#after almost three years I finally found the courage to read it again for the first time!!!

[fluffyblue-artnwriting]

Hi please look at this fic I wrote a couple years ago :3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Centaurworld (Cartoon 2021) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Horse/Rider (Centaurworld) Characters: Horse (Centaurworld), Rider (Centaurworld) Additional Tags: Centaur!Horse, Getting Together, Kissing, Post-Canon, Transformation, Bodily Changes Summary:

Rider has been able to handle all the weird, and occasionally comically horrifying, shit that Centaurworld has thrown at her. But the thing to finally break her brain is that Horse has boobs now.

[mountainsandmayhem]

Right Person, Wrong Time

Joel Miler x Female Reader

AN: This is for @undercoverpena 's April Showers Challenge. And for once, I did not write smut. I know, who am I? This is not beta'd or really proof read. I'm basically having imposter syndrome over the whole thing soooo...Love you, say it back, bye!

You know that famous saying, “Right Person, Wrong Time”? Well, that was Joel Miller. He had the potential to be the absolute love of your life, but as a single father to a teenage girl and a small business owner, he just didn’t have the time right now. You were about to turn thirty, him thirty six in just a few days time. So, the night before his birthday you made the gut wrenching decision to end things with him. 

“What do you mean we should see other people? There’s no other people.” He proclaimed, eyes filling with tears, mirroring yours.

“It’s just not the right time. I want to get married and have a baby, Joel. Do you really want that?” You have to remain strong, it had only been three months, you hadn’t met Sarah or any of his family. Same with your side, he knew about your sisters but no one else was at risk of being hurt by this break up outside of the two of you. This was the right thing to do before you both got in too deep.

Right Person, Wrong Time.

Almost twenty five years later and you still find yourself replaying that conversation. Every September, Joel flashes behind your eyelids - still perfectly clear, almost like it had just happened yesterday. Dark curly hair, patchy scruff, big brown eyes and furrowed brows; one day he’s going to have a permanent crease between them from all his sexy scowling. If you focus hard enough, you can feel his rough and calloused fingers on your skin. You can still hear his deep and silky voice, almost managing to make you feel lighter every time he said your name or called you darlin’ or sweetheart.

“That feel good, Darlin’?”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go for me.”

The outbreak happened not even 24 hours after you broke up with him. Had he survived? There’s no way you survived and he didn’t. Your suspicions were confirmed the day Tommy Miller showed up.

For the most part you liked to keep to yourself, running the community garden. You’re thankful for the small and safe community, but word gets around. And when you hear that Tommy’s brother has come to town you shrink even further back into the shadows, unsure if you want to see him again. Would it hurt more if he remembered you, or if he had no memory of you and that conversation that has imprinted itself upon you? Joel Miller is your last memory, both happy and sad, before the world fell apart. 

Him, and the little girl he showed up with, left before you found the courage to approach him and soon winter took over Jackson, leaving you without the garden. Without the distraction from your thoughts of Joel.

The winter is long and brutal. April finally rolls around, and you trudge out into the rain and head to the dining hall for dinner. The gates open in the distance, but you’re lost in your own thoughts. This is more rain than you have seen in months. The garden is going to love it, you think. Just as you’re about to step up the creaky wooden steps you hear your name. It floats across the commune in a deep, gravelly, and oh so familiar voice.

You stop, tears flooding your lash line and the mud squeaking under your rubber boots as you turn to look at him through glassy eyes. Your lips part and your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. The world around you melts away. All you can see and hear is Joel Miller. He’s aged, grey peppers his temples and facial hair, he has those lines that you knew he would permanently etched between his brows, but those big brown eyes are like they’ve been frozen in time as they dance around your face.

“It’s you,” he says softly, voice shaking in a mix of sadness and relief, as he takes a few steps towards you. “I-I can’t believe it. I’ve, well…” He rakes his fingers through his soaked curls as you stare at him. The rain is coming down in a steady sheet, the ground becoming a muddy mess, and both of your clothes completely soaked through. You haven’t taken a breath in what feels like hours. 

It’s you.

“I have thought about you almost every day since the world fell apart,” he continues, his warm voice washing over you like molasses. “When I was at my lowest I would think of that little dimple you get when you smile, or that time wine came out of your nose from when you laughed at that stupid joke I made. I don’t remember the joke, but I remember how happy you looked as the sun set and the orange glow lit your skin. I’d remember the way your face scrunched up when you tried whiskey for the first time. I would remember where all your freckles are, and how soft you were against my lips as I kissed every single one. I’d think of that first time we made love, how I’d never felt that overwhelmed with emotion for another person before, how in that moment I realized that I was truly fucked when it came to you. It was anything you wanted, sweetheart. Even if it meant you wanted to break up. I never should have let you go, darin’. I’m so sorry. I tried to find you before we fled for Boston.”

By the time he’s done talking you’re right in front of him, chest grazing his, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. You have no idea how you got that close to him. You don’t remember moving your feet. Joel Miller, your Joel Miller. Greyer, lines around his eyes, but yours.

As the rain pelts down you waste no time, reaching up around his neck as he lifts you up and into his embrace. Your noses graze as you whisper a quiet ‘I missed you so much’ into his lips. 

“I’m never letting you go, baby. Never again.” He says and then you press your lips into his in a searing kiss. It lights your whole body on fire, you feel like you’ve been hit by a defibrillator. 

You’re alive again.

====================

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi i @pedritoferg @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey @iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81

[yummyuta]

four sides to every heart | n.y, j.j, l.m

♡ genre: polyamory | smut - mndi! fluff | word count: 2,333

♡ pairing: yuta, jaehyun, mark x f. reader

♡ warnings: multiple sex scenes, oral (m & f receiving), semi-public sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampies, overstimulation, petnames (princess, angel, kitten)

♡ summary: you had always considered yourself to be a rational and organized person, meticulously planning every detail of your life. that was until your emotions had become a tangled mess, involving four crucial people - your boyfriend yuta, your roommate jaehyun, and your childhood best friend mark.

♡ authors note: this is the final part of the series! read the preview, part 1, and part 2 here. i am very pleased with how this all turned out. i have never written before, so i really challenged myself, and i hope you all enjoyed this series!

♡ song recommendation:

the smell of saltwater, the chill breeze, the flowy silk sheets under you, and the sound of jaehyun breathing were all you could focus on when you woke up. it had been a year since you went from one lover to three, and you all decided that a vacation was needed. the boys wanted to celebrate in their own ways and found that scheduling separate time with you would be the best ways to express their love and gratitude for all the memories shared over the past 12 months.

the recollection of the previous events from the night before with jaehyun flooded back to you as you hid your now blushing face underneath the blankets. his strong arm found its way draped across your bare chest, as he nuzzled into your neck. "good morning love" he murmured, placing a chaste kiss there. you turned around in his embrace, wanting to face the handsome man before you. he traced soothing patterns along your spine, his lips finding yours in a sentimental kiss. jaehyun's kisses were one of the many ways you knew he deeply cared for you. he spared no effort in slipping his tongue past, leaving you breathless almost instantly. you recalled the first time he touched you like this, how nervous and unsure those feelings were. you can't believe you made it here now, so self-assured and courageous. if it wasn't for you developing those feelings and going through that door, you dont think you would have made it here now.

your touch became more daring as you slipped your hands from his chiseled chest to his defined stomach and lower. jaehyun always was pleasing you first, knowing your body like the back of his hand. he deserved to be taken care of, too. "what are you doing" he groaned in your mouth when you started pumping his length. "just trust me, and lay back. you took more than enough care of me last night. let me do the same for you." you said sweetly, placing your other hand back on his chest to push him on his back. you started slowly, placing your lips softly around his pink tip, kitten licking before taking more of him in your mouth. you felt him flexing around you, trying to contain his excitement. he was big, but you wanted to prove yourself. you had only ever done this a few times with him and were determined to make this a moment to remember. he hit the back of your throat, you lightly gagged, eyes welling up with tears, but you bobbed your head, moving steadily. hearing jaehyuns deep moans made it all worth it to you, he didnt make sounds all the often so whenever you got the chance to hear it, it was like listening to your favorite song over and over again.

he was getting close, one hand gripping the headboard above him, the other found a hold in your hair. the second you looked up at him with your doe eyes, lashes fluttering, he could have lost it all on the spot. he fought his urges, pulling you off him and placing his thumb on your pouted lips. you held eye contact, parting your lips, sucking lightly. "god, you are perfect," he groaned before taking a grasp of your hips and placing you into his lap. "i need to cum inside of you princess." he pleaded with you, he sounded so needy, something new to the both of you. you nodded, putting your arms around his strong shoulders, lifting your knees that straddled him and lowering yourself inch by inch on his cock. he threw his head back, whimpering "baby relax, im not going to last long if you keep clenching around me like that". you tried your best, but every time he filled you up, it was like that first time all over again. you began rocking back and forth at first, grinding in his lap before you gathered enough strength to start riding him properly.

you were so lost in the feeling of him, your eyes closed and moans slipping past your lips, with every thrust. when you went down, he moved up, setting a lovely pace that worked harmoniously. jaehyun was mesmerized by you, the way your features were highlighted by the morning glow shining through the windows. in that moment, he realized he was irrevocably in love with you. from the time you agreed to live with him, he knew his life had changed in an instant. you not only walked into the door of the apartment you now shared, but into his heart as well. from that point, onwards he began to effortlessly imagine a future with you. he could see you both slow dancing in the living room, whiskey glasses half-drank on the coffee table as his favorite jazz record you bought him for his birthday played in the background. he thought of walking through the door after a long day of work and seeing you playing the piano, your child giggling and smiling on your lap.

the more he thought of how beautiful you would look with a baby bump and the pregnancy glow the closer he got to releasing his seed inside of you. "you are my one and only forever love" he declared, sealing his lips with yours in a passionate promise. his hips stuttered, painting your walls white and securing his fate that he had been manifesting with you this entire time. you were meant to live your lives, building a happy home together.

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

the following day, you felt refreshed, and mark picked you up for a romantic adventure. you took a private yacht to a secluded cove, where the water was clear you could admire the sealife from below. there was a picnic already set up for you, as mark put his hand on the small of your back leading you to it. he was affectionate as ever, feeding you chocolate covered strawberries, and making sure your glass of champagne was never left empty. there was something about mark that was extremely captivating. his graceful composure, humble mind, and compassionate heart made him all the more attractive to you. he was a kindhearted friend and an even more dedicated lover.

as you lay together on the blanket, watching the sun dip low into the sky, painting the horizon shades of pink and orange, mark decided to softly sing in your ear as he held you. "a million different stars but you're the one," you blushed at the line from the song he wrote as you gift he prepared for your anniversary. he dipped his head into your neck, leaving wet traces behind as he shifted his body to hover above you, his elbows on either side of your head, staring into your eyes. "i hope i find you in every universe," he announced as he brushed stray hairs out of your face.

the following hours were spent with him proclimating his everlasting love for you over and over again, with the moon and stars as your witness. he lowered his head between your thighs as he drank up every drop of your sweet nectar. your hands grabbing a fistful of his hair, forcing him to disappear further into you, the hem of your dress covering his face. he looked up at you with his puppy dog eyes, and you saw the entire world in them. your vision became blurry, as your mind further slipped as you thought back to how you have grown up with this man alongside you. you had always loved mark, but falling in love with him was a completely different chapter. tears springing in your eyes as your emotions and upcoming orgasm washed over you.

you moaned his name like a mantra, as you released on his face, but that didn't stop him. his hands wrapped around your legs, holding you closer to him as he continued his menstruations, alternating from sucking your bundle of nerves to laying his tongue flat between your folds licking up and down. "its...too...much" you sighed, becoming overstimulated, your entire body vibrating. "give me one more angel, you can do it" he encouraged against your core, nose bumping into your clit.

when mark was in the zone, there was no stopping him, he could go rounds. the man's biggest vice was you. he went to sleep constantly dreaming about moments like the one you are currently in. waking up sweaty and his hand wrapped tightly around his cock. he was happy to share you, most of the time but there was a part of him that was underlyingingly possessive. after your first time together, he became obsessed with the way you said his name, with how you reacted to him. when he had you to himself is when his true nature could come forward.

you needed something to ground you, grabbing his hands that were forcing your legs apart, interlocking them with yours as your body thrashed with the waves crashing into the rocks surrounding you. it was like you and nature were synced. you had never felt so connected to the world around you, reaching a higher plane as you climaxed. you fell into a trancelike state from the immense pleasure you had succumbed to.

mark finally revealed his face to you, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt before taking both sides of his shirt and throwing it up and over his head. you knew then as you layed in the sand, and he continued to undress himself that your evening with mark as well as your story with him was far from over. you thought of the two of you growing old together, reminiscing on the love that kept you young, carefree, and alive all of these years. after all, it was like time didn't exist when you were around each other. even though you have known him your entire life, you still felt like you had an infinite amount of memories to make with the man you wholeheartedly loved.

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

on the final evening of your vacation, you walked into yuta's private villa that he transformed into a sanctuary. as you walked in, you stumbled across a path of rose petals leading to the bedroom. you continued tiptoeing, making your way to the window, you saw that he had prepared a candle-lit dinner just outside on the terrace. he stood there dressed in an all black suit and boquet in hand, looking as dashing as ever.

you enjoyed a delictable meal together, always enjoying the warmth of his company and the love that he shows you through his acts of service. once you had finished your meal, he cleared the table as you stared out into the abyss of the night. yuta came back out, "wow look at this view" he said behind you, and he raked his eyes over your figure. "i know right, its beautiful out," you responded in awe. "not as beautiful as you...kitten" he whispered in your ear, as he began to undress you slowly, wanting to take his time and savor the moment with the women that he loves and cherishes the most. although he never imagined your relationship coming to these heights, he wouldn't turn back the clock for anything. making you happy was his main goal in life, he realized that the day he met you.

as your dress dropped to the floor, you stepped out of it, turning around and meeting his lustful gaze. you never shyed away from him. the man in front of you seeing you at the most vulnerable and transformitive stages in your life, accepting you with arms wide open. his hands and lips began exploring your body in a way they have countless moments before, with a sense of reverence and desire. the air became filled with soft moans and whispers of undying love. you were standing, pressed up against the cold metal of the balcony. your knees buckling as your hands fumbled around yuta's neck. he showed no mercy, pounding into you with such intensity you swear you thought the ground was shaking. very little words needed to be exchanged, as his actions proved his devotion to you.

your entire sense of self was a torch that only yuta could light. you owed him your life. he was the first real boyfriend you ever had, the first man to show you what real love and intimacy was. if it wasn't for him, you wouldn't have found the other pieces that completed you. while mark and jaehyun were equally as important to you, yuta was the first man you ever bared your soul to. thats a love that nobody comes back from, the type of love that you find once in a great lifetime, that you would be willing to go through the pits of hell for. you had met your match and yuta was it.

you clawed your nails, down his backside, as you stood on your tiptoes, one leg wrapped around his waist and he showed no mercy, hitting that spot that made you explode like gold dust. you opened your mouth to speak but couldn't form any thoughts, not when yuta was making love to you like the sky was about to start falling around you. you wanted to tell him you loved him, to thank him for giving you life and meaning to the world you existed in.

in that instant, it was like he knew exactly what you were thinking. he brushed his lips against yours, hips begining to falter, as he lost any ounce of power he had over himself. "i know everything... I love you too," he said breathlessly with his lips curled up into a smile. the one that made everything peaceful around you. lost in the aftermath of the passion, your breathing mingled into the hue of the rising sun, bringing in the dawn of a new day and the continuation of your everlasting love.

♡ ending authors note: for this part, i wanted to do something a bit different and focus on the feeling of each relationship more than the acts themselves as a way to wrap everything up. i enjoyed diving into each individual scene, and i hope you enjoyed this series!

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤAs cold as your heart ･:*:｡𓏲ּ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤDr. ishida uryu x f! reader

Chapter 2: sorrow. what happened three days prior their encounter?

❄ a/n: yep, I created a loop. But believe me it is worth reading to understand a little more about Uryu's inner turmoil. I know the cliffhanger is basically the same, but don't panic! you'll have the update before the year ends (haha) ❄ tw: not much, VERY angsty for now. I am taking my sweet time because I really wanna explore Uryu's feelings. He is a very complex character that deserves all the love. I want this to be a sweet love story that will -of course- contain smut as we go further into it. btw: Ichihime mentioned, they are getting married soon. I must warn you, there will be a "wedding chapter" so if you don't like the ship (i am just playing with the canon) you've been noticed. ❄ next chapter? ➡ masterlist

Tossing and turning, that’s how his old bed found the young doctor. Uryu’s deep blue orbs fixed into the ceiling of his room, long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, blurry vision as his glasses had been left aside. 

Coming back feels painful; from memories of his mother kissing his forehead goodnight, from the day she was gone… and then, your smile. That beam he hurt; he broke. 

“She hasn’t left?”  “Hm… how could she? You idiot”

Ryuuken’s words torment Uryu’s mind; why didn’t she move on? Why did she have to stay? 

He clenches his fist, hitting the wall next to his bed. His eyes, shifting to the dance of falling snow on the window above, fill with tears of immense sorrow. 

Sudden images of the past arrive, to make it all even worse… a teenager's love, the thrill of the first kiss, the pain of the last.

“Name…” the current king of the Quincy exhales, wishing he hadn’t come back. 

A sudden sting hits his body; something far from auto control takes over, making him stand up and grab his glasses. 

Uryu flops down his bed back; “I can’t… I can’t go after her, there is no need to turn her life to shambles again…” 

Like that, fighting against selfishness, he fell to the side. No emotion showing on his pale façade, but inside, for the very first time, he damned the Quincy cross burned in between his pecs… 

The scent of sweet bread, freshly baked, wakes Uryu up. “Young master, breakfast is ready” the soft voice of a woman eases the sleepiness away. 

Right, back at home there is domestic service. How could he forget? Especially him?

“I’ll be ready in a moment” he comments, with raspy voice, and sleepy lids. Taking his glasses, he is able to see around, it’s painful to remember he is back in town. 

As the young doctor goes down the stairs, he can tell the atmosphere feels different. More than one reiatsu waits for him at the dining room; in fact, he is able to tell who those spiritual pressures belong to. 

“ISHIDA-KUN!!!”  “Ishida… you are back” 

A blast of love surrounds his thin frame, as the burnt orange princess weaves her arms around him. 

It’s always comforting, almost like healing, to feel Orihime’s hug. It is also comforting to see Ichigo’s deep eyes; a friend whose blood hides the same powers as his own, a friend who never gave up on him. 

“Hi…” Ishida stutters, with hints of shame and guilt. 

“We’ve missed you so much! And, you are just back in time! We’ve come to bring you something special” Inoue chimes, showing him a little envelope in between his pastry knitting hands. 

Uryu smiles, knowing exactly the content of such envelope. “Finally, Kurosaki. I’m glad you took the courage to propose” 

For a moment, and after a couple of -typical- discussions between Ichigo and him, the morning felt like everything was ok. This, until the inevitable question arrives… 

“Have you seen (Name), yet?” 

“No… and I don’t think I should. In fact, I won’t”

Orihime felt taken aback, how come after all this time? She knows more than anyone how much you’ve been waiting, patiently, for him to come back. 

“But… but she…”

“I am sorry Inoue. Those are my last words… I won’t”  

The ginger couple finally leaves. Inoue’s eyes still sad, Ichigo’s telling Uryu that the conversation isn’t over just yet. 

Uryu comes back inside; the freezing cold outside makes his nose a little red and runny. He fixes his glasses still thinking of you, of how less of a man he feels. 

He drags himself back to his room, remembering the little box he kept under his bed. It took a lot for him to leave it there and not take it with him when he left, but he decided to forget about those old memories. 

With little hopes of finding the box after so long, he kneels down and probes under the bed. The tip of his fingers reaches for something, and almost like regretting it, he takes the box. 

Dust flies around as he opens it to find a picture of both; still young, two high schoolers. Your arms surround him from behind, a smile as big and bright as the sun. His body, tense… oh, but his eyes… so full of love. 

Behind the old polaroid, something written by you:

Quincy boy, I have a crush on you. 

(Name) 💖 ~

Uryu sighs, and all those tears he couldn’t shed up until now, were now sprouting like waterfalls. He couldn’t notice, but the day went by with him crying, with him feeling miserable, with him carving the Quincy cross into the flesh of his palm… 

Two days passed by almost flying. Uryu didn’t notice, though. He only focused on two things; being miserable and ultimately fighting his father as he insisted on him working on his hospital from then on. A word that should describe Uryu the best could be “stubborn”

Kurosaki: pick you up at 10.

Uryu: for what? 

Kurosaki: bar. Chad coming after training. 

Uryu: k-

“I’m amazed you aren’t wearing a white coat” Ichigo jokes about Uryu’s clothing. He hasn’t stopped loving white, but he still thinks wearing white around his friends might make them uncomfortable. 

“Thank you, I’ve been well” Uryu answers, as sarcastic as always when it comes to his friend -and probably more like a brother- Ichigo. 

“I’m glad, because we need to talk” the substitute Shinigami fights back. “Inoue has been eating my brain with that, and I frankly think the same… what the fuck is going on with you and (Name)?” 

Uryu sighs, his forehead plastered against the cold window of the passenger’s seat. “Nothing. It’s been six years. I haven’t spoken to her in all that time, what is supposed to happen?” 

Despite trying to sound serious, those words only came as miserable to Ichigo. And he remembered how dyed-in-the-wool his friend can be… perhaps a couple of beers will make him speak, that or a fight. It isn’t new, they have been fighting since the day both met. 

Chad arrives once both have found a table on a very crowded bar near Urahara’s shop; they soon start to chat about their current lives, leaving at least for now, the “women” topic. 

However, a couple of minutes past midnight, Ichigo’s phone screen lights up. 

“INOUE 🍩 calling” 

Ichigo immediately picks up; it kinda startles Uryu, when he left Ichigo still acted a little immature towards Orihime. However, now, he showed a soon to be husband attitude. 

“Babe, are you ok?” Ichigo asks, his eyes shining when the voice of his soon to be wife let him know she was ok. “Now? yes, sure. Don’t worry, I’m going. Yep- no alcohol. Mhh, yes, Chad and Ishida” 

In a way, deep inside, Ishida feels absolutely jealous. The fact that his friend is able to talk to the woman he loves so freely, so sure. The fact that he is able to protect her, the fact that he is able to hug her to sleep every night. 

“Inoue asked me to pick her up. She went to have dinner before new year’s with the “Bakers Club”” he lets them know, and both Chad and him stand up. Uryu blinks a couple of times before following them, his friends have grown up and now he feels like he is an immature kid. Of course he would run to help Orihime, but she isn’t in danger, this is just the “daily living” of an adult couple who is about to marry. 

Chad and Ichigo chat about the following boxing matches as they walk to the car, while Uryu stays silent. He feels like an outsider, and wonders if he will be able to keep up with the speed of this new world. 

“Guys, I’m walking home” the Quincy mumbles.

“You sure?” Chad asks, noticing Ichigo already frowning at his friend’s decision. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. I need some fresh air” Uryu waves them goodbye, he doesn’t really want to give further reasons nor discuss his actions with them. 

Both friends look at each other with a worried expression but ultimately let him go. 

“He is not ok…”

“Nor he will until he sees her” 

Winter creeps through Uryu’s hands, he hates the fact he didn’t bring gloves. But he hates having come back the most. 

Closer, the blueish lights of the Karakura General Hospital shine. He takes a swift look at his father’s hospital, the one he is being pushed to attend as a doctor. Full of questions, he asks himself whether it would be good or not to become a pediatrician there knowing that would mean staying in Karakura to live. Is he ready to live there again? to potentially prescribe meds to your future children? 

The image of you having babies only made him more depressed. It is true Ryuken told him you haven’t moved on, but what exactly he meant with that he didn’t know. 

The sudden vibration of his phone breaks his attention from his miserable thoughts. A text from his father letting him know he is about to finish his shift. 

Ryuken > “I’m about to head home, did you eat?” 

Him > yep, walking home rn 

Uryu sighs; it seems as if Ryuken wanted to act more like a father than before, though he is still a little hesitant to engage in such mental energy drawing activities. 

A cold drop hits his pointy nose; a little snowflake melts on his pale skin competing for which one is whiter. 

“Ah… I’m gonna catch a cold, definitely” Uryu grunts, looking up at the blackest sky. 

“Shit, shit, shit” you swear, running under the falling snow, learning that your Karakura General Hospital nurse uniform isn’t warm enough. The shift is over, and you insisted on going home walking instead of letting Ryuken take you… now, you are actually regretting it. 

You bump into a man’s silhouette, falling back on your ass into the sidewalk. 

He turns around quickly.  The time freezes, as both word “sorry”

Those blue orbs; his black hair; the shine of his silver glasses. His handsome features, his hands, everything you’ve always loved, right in front of you. Again. After so long. 

“You- You are back. Uryu you are back” you whisper, standing up in a matter of seconds and running towards him. Like attacking him, you hug him with such strength that could crush his bones. “six years, six years… I’m so happy to see you, I’m so happy to- to-“ 

He pushes you away, detaching your body from his in an unfriendly manner. 

You are out of words; why would he…? 

“(Name), don’t do this” he spits; the venom in his words reminds you of the time he sided with Yhwach. 

You remain silent, searching for words everywhere inside you with no positive outcome. 

“Move out of the way, please” he continues, trying to pass by you, avoiding eye contact. His hair falls on his side, covering -conveniently- the incipient tears flooding his eyes. 

You watch him walk by, walking away from you… your legs fail you, letting your weight hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. 

“Stop, stop please… stop ignoring me! This is hurting me!” you plead, knees hitting the ground, drawing blood out of them, allowing the cold cement underneath to soak into that crimson fluid of life…

next chapter

[lupinmoonlight]

Could you do smth like they meet again after years??? She's a professor and he too so she saw him at the first day in the great hall and after that they run into each other in the teachers' room. They were friends when they went to school and they were always attractedby each other.

Thank you and btw I love your writing:)

Lost and Found

Masterlist AO3

Summary - You and Remus Lupin had a crush on each other ever since you were students at Hogwarts but never had the courage to even speak. You spend the next 20 years living your separate lives, you as an Auror, and he, just surviving. Unable to live under the stress of your profession anymore, you retire and start teaching at Hogwarts, still hoping to fill the void Remus had left behind. In September 1993, everything changes. (3,190 words)

Warnings - Fluff, cheesy, angst, a bit of hurt/comfort, a bit of self-hatred, kissing, mention of wizarding war and lost of loved ones, my grammar (english is not my first language), not proof read.

Notes - I am almost ashamed of posting this considering I received this request over a month ago. I am so sorry anon, I have been traveling all of August. Thank you so much for your request and kind comment. I hope you like this one! (sorry if it's too cheesy I got carried away lol)

June 1978

One last glance, that's all you wanted. You pulled your hair back, looking discreetly across the Great Hall. As always, Remus was there, just a few seats away. He looked sad, just as sad as you, but it couldn't be for the same reason. The warm, golden rays of the sun reached through the windows and danced across his face, as if the sky itself was trying to comfort him. It graced his scars, making them glow a beautiful shade of gold. You were doomed. Absolutely doomed. And sad. And in love. And doomed. 

You would always sit close, steal glances, exchange the occasional smile in the library. You had become experts at unsaid conversations, your hearts screaming out words that your lips never uttered. 7 years of unspoken love, of quick glances, of butterflies in your stomach, of hoping he would sit next to you in potions, of worrying when he would disappear for a few days. You knew why, it was easy enough to figure out for anyone who paid close attention. But you didn't care. You loved him for 7 years. 7 years that were about to be ripped away from you. 

Remus felt your gaze and looked up. Your eyes met, and for a split second, time seemed to stop. You wanted to say something. I love you. But the lump in your throat held your words hostage. The weight of the impending silent goodbye threatened to shatter the fragile world you had created. 

As breakfast came to an end, you all began your journey towards Hogwarts Express. The station was alive with chatter, laughter, and tearful goodbyes. But amidst the chaos, there were two souls whose worlds had never been more silent. 

You found yourself in a compartment and gazed out the window, lost in thoughts, watching what had become your second home for 7 years slowly disappear in the distance. Every time the train jolted, you wished it would be Remus entering your compartment, as if he would be braver than you. Why didn't you go to his compartment? You were a coward that's why. Because being rejected would hurt more than saying goodbye. 

Remus sat a few compartments away, his heart pounding in his chest. Despite the presence of his three best friends, he felt alone. The knowledge that this journey might be his last with you was gnawing at his soul. 

The train finally pulled into King's Cross, and students disembarked, eagerly searching for their families. You made your way through the crowd, hoping, stupidly praying for one last moment with Remus. As you approached the barrier between the platform and the muggle world, you took a deep breath and looked back. And there he was, Remus, looking just as lost as you felt. Your eyes met across the platform, and everything went quiet, blurry. 

You crossed the barrier and found yourself on the muggle side of the platform and looked back once more, catching a fleeting glimpse of Remus, who seemed to be vanishing amidst the crowd. You felt a visceral ache. A lump formed in your throat, stubborn and solid, just as you had been during those 7 years, refusing to admit your feelings. You hated yourself. Coward, you kept telling yourself. But you loved him. Was teenage love supposed to be this painful? Because if yes, you were done with it. Never again, you thought. You wiped away the unshed tears from your eyes, put on your most determined face on, and went to your parents waiting in the crowd. You had a career to build, and Aurors were not made of lovesick teenagers. 

1981 - 1991

After graduating, the world outside Hogwarts proved to be colder and crueler than you had imagined. The First Wizarding War was a brutal, heart-wrenching time. As planned, you took the path of an Auror, but not for the same reasons you had wanted. Rather, it was in a desperate attempt to right the world's wrongs, to lose yourself, to numb yourself. It was your refuge, but it was also a painful reminder of the war's cost, a daily confrontation with terror and death. Was Remus alive? The question gnawed at you the moment you opened your eyes every morning. It consumed you. You had not seen each other in over 10 years, but the mere thought of him losing his life felt like someone was ripping you open with their bare hands, no magic. Maybe that's what drove you, in the end, to be an Auror. Stupid teenage love. 

The horrors of your profession haunted you every night. You had been dishonest with yourself. Sure, you wanted to "right the world's wrongs". But really, every time you were out on a mission, you were looking for him, the boy, now man, with sandy hair, with golden scars, with the softest voice, kindest eyes, shyest smile. But he was never there. So you gave up and did everything you could to bury every memory of him as deep as possible, unreachable, and decided to try and go teach other lovesick teenagers. At least then, you would feel at home. 

And home, you were. The old headmaster was still there, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. Professor McGonagall, head of your house years ago, welcomed you back with the expression of a proud mother. In her eyes, you had made it. You had been successful. An Auror retiring to teach young witches and wizards. But you didn't feel successful, you felt broken, empty. And the only other colleague who seemed to reflect that void was Severus. You had been surprised to see him as a teacher. The man had always been isolated, grim-looking, sad. He reminded you of a dementor, and maybe that's why you enjoyed sharing a cup of tea with this old classmate in the staff room, to torture yourself and forget about your lost love. Had he really been a dementor, you don't even think you would have been affected because all that was left was nothing. Longing. Hurt. Despair. 

Yet, in your first term as a teacher, you had this stupid hope. Maybe. Maybe Remus would walk through the Great Hall. Of all four troublemakers, he was the prefect, after all. Of course he would be a teacher. You had been so obsessed with this idea that you started losing sleep months before the term started. You surveyed the staff table like a hawk, looking for him. You were going mad. Here you were, grown, accomplished, yet still obsessing over your teenage love, retracing your steps through the halls like you used to 20 years ago to catch only a glimpse of him. Except now you knew he wouldn't be there. 

September 1993

You sat at the long staff table, your eyes idly scanning the crowd of eager young faces gathered in the Great Hall. You were numb. Not even waiting for anything anymore. Just going through the motions. Professor McGonagall had just finished calling out the names of the first-year students when the staff entrance at the side of the Hall creaked open. 

You turned your head reflexively, expecting another late-arriving student or perhaps a staff member who'd lost track of time. What you did not expect was the sight that greeted you, freezing you in your seat. 

A man stepped into the Great Hall, pausing for a moment to soak in the ambiance as if he too were revisiting old memories. Older and more weathered than you remembered, his sandy hair was now tinged with grey, and his face bore scars that were definitely not there during your Hogwarts years. His robes, though neat, were faded and had seen better days. But it was his eyes- those gentle blue eyes, filled with a unique blend of sorrow and kindness- that told you everything you needed to know. 

Remus. 

Your heart was pounding so loud in your chest that you were sure the entire Hall could hear it. The moment his eyes met yours, he too froze in place, as if the mere sight of you had rooted him to the ground. A mixture of emotions swirled in his gaze- surprise, confusion, and something softer, more intimate, that you hadn't seen in anyone's eyes for a long time. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, unbidden but not unwelcome, as you shared a look so intense, it was as if no one else existed. A look that whispered of years lost, of what could have been, and- perhaps- of what still might be. Not a word was spoken, but in that moment, volumes were said, a dialogue only you could understand. 

The gravity of the moment was so strong that you barely registered Remus moving again, navigating his way through the Hall to join the staff at the table. As he sat down beside you, the familiar scent of him struck you like a freight train- parchment, coffee, and a hint of pine trees. It was intoxicating, transporting you back to a simpler time, back to late-night study sessions and furtive glances. Your cheeks flushed as you realized that the empty chair next to you would be his for the entire year. There you were, a lovesick teenager again. 

You found yourself struggling to maintain your composure as Dumbledore rose to his feet to introduce the new staff member. 

"Before we continue, I'm pleased to welcome Professor R.J Lupin, who's kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," he announced, his eyes twinkling as he gestured towards Remus. 

The students erupted into applause as Remus stood up awkwardly, a sheepish smile on his face. You found yourself unable to clap, your hands trembling in your lap as you watched him. It was surreal to see him here, after all these years. 

As soon as the ceremony ended, before the feast even began, Remus got up from his seat and made his way out of the Great Hall almost immediately, without saying a word. He looked almost...flustered? Impossible, you thought. YOU were flustered. How could he be? 

For days after your wordless reunion, you and Remus moved in parallel orbits, close yet never intersecting. The tension between you was palpable; an emotional undercurrent that resonated through every stolen glance and momentary brush of your eyes. You would catch him staring at you across the Great Hall during meals, only for him to look away, flustered, when you met his gaze. He would spot you in the corridors, seemingly engrossed in conversation with Professor McGonagall, but he knew you were acutely aware of his presence. 

You both longed to talk, to share the feelings that had overwhelmed you during that first eye contact, yet you were both paralyzed by a mix of fear, vulnerability, and the weight of years that had gone by. Remus, scarred by the war, lost everyone he loved most, was terribly afraid of loving again. And you, scarred by years of void, searching, numbing, were terribly afraid of being rejected. 

The tension reached its peak one fateful evening when you found yourselves alone in the staff room. You had come to fetch some papers you had left behind, while Remus had sought the space for its quiet ambiance to prepare for his next lesson. As you entered, you were met by the aroma of ancient books, polished wood, and a hint of brewing tea. Remus was standing there, looking startled but then quickly regaining his composure. 

"Ah, good evening," he stuttered, his voice tinged with the nervousness he felt. It was the first time you heard his voice in 20 years. It was deeper, but just as rich, just as soft, making you feel just as weak. 

You felt your cheeks flush as you stepped further into the room. "Good evening," you responded, your voice a half-octave higher than you intended. 

It was awkward, the air was thick with unspoken sentiments and unanswered questions. Remus cleared his throat and offered a formal, almost painfully awkward introduction. 

"You might not remember me, I'm R-" 

Might not remember him? Was he dumb? Clueless? Blind? No. He was just a man, you thought. 

"I know," you cut him off gently, trying to act as if he had not consumed 99% of your brain capacity for the last 20 years. "I do know, Remus." 

The air lightened a little at your words, as if acknowledging your shared history made it easier to breathe. Almost easier. 

"I was just about to make myself a cup of tea. Would you like one?" he offered, trying to navigate the awkwardness that hung in the room. 

"Yes, thank you", you agreed, grateful for a way to break the emotional deadlock. 

As Remus moved to pour the boiling water into the cups, his hands were less steady than he'd have liked. You watched him, your heart pounding in your chest as if it wanted to leap out and bridge the gap that had opened up between you over the years. He handed you the cup, your fingers brushed ever so slightly. The contact, though fleeting, sent a rush of warmth surging through you both. 

From that day on, you became inseparable- or as inseparable as two Hogwarts professors could be. You found excuses to bump into each other in the hallways, 'accidentally' coinciding your evening strolls by the lake or the Forbidden Forest's edge. You began to steal moments wherever you could- sitting together at meals when you could manage it, pausing in empty classrooms for brief, whispered conversations. 

Yet, for all your newfound closeness, you both tiptoed around the deeper emotions and unspoken confessions that hovered in the background. You would catch yourself about to say something too revealing and would quickly pivot the conversation to safer topics. Remus, too, would often find himself on the verge of saying something he feared could ruin everything but would pull back at the last moment, as though treading on dangerous ground. 

The late-night strolls became your sanctuary, where the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you and your carefully guarded feelings. 

"You've changed the curriculum quite a bit," you would say, your eyes sparkling as you discussed his innovative teaching methods. 

"And you've managed to make Arithmancy popular. I've never seen so many students signing up for it," he would reply, his eyes lingering on your face as if trying to decipher the mysteries hidden behind your eyes. 

You would both laugh, the tension easing for a moment, yet neither of you would take that final, daunting step to acknowledge the flame that had been rekindled and now burned almost painfully. 

It was a dance you both had perfected, a dangerous game you played. And though you circled around your feelings, it was clear to you both that this delicate balance couldn't last forever. It was as if you were students again. Desperate, lovesick, terrified teenagers. 

And you couldn't take it anymore. You wouldn't. That night, the air was particularly cold, the air crisp, and the half-moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the grounds. 

"It's been weeks, Remus. Weeks since you came back into my life," you began, your voice shaky. "We keep circling around each other like we're afraid of something." 

"Afraid?" Remus responded, trying to maintain his composure. "There's nothing to be afraid of." 

"Isn't there?" You looked up, your eyes meeting his. "Then why haven't you touched me? Why haven't we talked about what's really going on between us? Why haven't you invited me out for a coffee?" 

Remus looked away, visibly wrestling with himself. "I can't. I can't give you what you want." 

The raw pain in his voice struck you, and you felt your own eyes brimming with tears. "And what do you think I want, Remus? Is it so wrong to want to be with you? Or am I not good enough for you?" 

He took a deep breath, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You deserve someone better, someone who can be there for you in all the ways I can't."

That was it. The dam of emotions you'd been holding back for years finally burst. "Better? Do you have any idea how many nights I've lain awake wondering if you were even alive? Do you know how terrifying it is to love someone and not know if they're dead or alive, Remus?" 

Your words struck him to his core. Of course, he knew what it felt like. He had lived it for 20 years. 

Your voice had risen to almost a scream, your body shaking as you confronted him, assaulted him with your words. "All those years, I never had the courage to approach you, to tell you how I felt. We lost all that time, and now here you are, yet you've never felt so out of reach." 

Remus couldn't look at you. His gaze was fixed on the ground, and he seemed to be shrinking into himself. "You don't understand. I'm not good for you." 

"Why? Because you're a werewolf?" you snapped, the words tumbling out of you before you could stop them. 

Remus's head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. 

"I've known since Hogwarts, Remus. And I never cared. Are you blind? All I've wanted for the past 20 years was to be with you, to even just see you, to-" 

Before you could say another word, Remus closed the distance between you in two quick strides, his hands gripping your waist as he pushed you against a tree. Your eyes met for a split second- a second filled with anger, surprise, confusion, but above all, an overwhelming love- and his lips crashed into yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. His hand snaked up to your neck, feeling your pulse, as if he was trying to convince himself that this was real. You pressed your body against him, the heat radiating from him was intoxicating, dizzying. 

But then the kiss slowed, its intensity giving way to a slow, loving gentleness, one that you associated with him so much. Remus's hands moved from your neck to cup your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that had spilled onto your cheeks. Your hands found their way to his chest, gripping his robes like they were a lifeline, like he would vanish any second. 

Finally, you broke the kiss, a little out of breath, but remained close, your foreheads touching. "I'm sorry," Remus whispered, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry for all the years we lost, for all the pain I've caused you." 

You shook your head, your eyes searching his. "We can't get back the years we've lost, but we have now, Remus. That has to count for something." 

He looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time since the war, he allowed himself to believe in the possibility for a future- a future filled with love, warmth, and a happiness he had never thought he'd deserve. 

"Okay," he said softly, the word heavy with the weight of the promise it carried. 

"Okay," you repeated. 

[blueraineshadows]

Hey I have a Garreth fic idea if youre down for it?

So I was thinking about Garreth being absolutely infatuated with MC, and it drives him mad when she keeps being whisked away to defeat poachers and dark wizards.

Then she gets severely hurt and taken to hospital, where Garreth had a sudden outburst of frustration when she's in the hospital bed and he storms off.

After MC gets better she decides to confront Garreth where he spills out his feelings about loving her and being afraid of seeing her badly hurt (or dead if one of the raids goes wrong).

MC also has strong feelings for him and she admits it too, then they make out hard and then things escalate from there if you know what I mean ���

I hope the idea is good enough as I've never made a fic request before 😅

I love a Garreth request! ❤️

Have some Weasley Wednesday content!

Garreth Weasley x F!MC - fluff, injury, angst, smut NSFW 🔞

He just couldn't help it. He just had to shuffle a little closer and peer over MC's shoulder as she stirred her cauldron. Her potion was looking fairly decent he noticed, the colour almost perfect. He dared to lean a little closer, the scent of her perfume teasing his nose. "Not bad, MC," he said.

She gave him a little sideways look, her lips curving up into that cute little smirk she did. His heart did a little flip. Why was she so damn cute? It was killing him.

"I guess all the pointers you've been giving me are paying off," she said.

He beamed at her praise, shifting to lean casually against the work table in an effort to look cool. Unfortunately, his elbow caught against a pot of dittany leaves and it tumbled over, the leaves scattering everywhere. "Oh, shit," he muttered. He quickly scrambled to gather up said pot and leaves, a blush colouring his cheeks.

MC bit back a giggle. "What are you doing?" She hissed under her breath, turning to keep an eye out for Sharp. Garreth didn't need any more detentions.

Garreth was scooping the leaves frantically into the pot. "It's fine, no problem," he muttered. He put the pot back where it had been, dusting off his hands and throwing her a sheepish grin. "See? As if it never happened."

Her smile did things to him, fluttering, chaotic things, but he was finding it to be quite addictive. If she was nearby, he had to have an excuse to be next to her. If he got to accidently brush up against her, or, even better, if she put her hand on him, (which she had done, three times now!), then it was enough to make his day.

After following her with his eyes for two years, he might finally pluck up the courage to do something about it. Maybe.

When class was over, Natty leant close to speak into his ear as they packed up their things. "Why don't you just ask her out?"

"Who?" He asked.

Natty gave him a look. "You couldn't be more obvious. She isn't seeing anyone, you know. Just ask!"

Garreth chewed his bottom lip as he watched MC walk out of class. If only it was that easy.

....*....

"Psst!"

Garreth looked up from his book, glancing around the courtyard. He had found a quiet spot to study, catching up on some reading ready for mock exams that were fast approaching. He frowned. Who had made that noise?

"Psst, Garreth!"

He looked up again, a smile brightening his face as he saw MC beckoning him over. She was peering around a column, clearly not wanting to be seen. Curious, he closed his book and headed over.

As soon as he was close, her hand whipped out and clutched his sleeve, she yanked him behind the column and led him towards a shadowed corner. "Ooop, what's this then?" He asked, a little surprised.

She double checked nobody was looking before pulling out a wooden box from her enchanted pocket. "I have a gift for you, but it's er...how shall I put this...hot property? Black Market stuff?"

He looked at the box, his eyes shooting back to hers at her choice of words. "You mean...stolen?"

She cringed. "Shhh!" She pulled him further into the corner. "Not so loud. But, yes...I acquired them, so to speak. I raided an Ashwinder camp, and when I was having a rummage through their supplies I saw this, and I immediately thought of you."

He frowned. "Another Ashwinder camp? Merlin, MC, I thought you were done with all that these days."

Her smile was rueful. "I stumbled across it," she said. She gave a little shrug. "What can I say? I'm addicted to the adrenaline I guess."

"You could get seriously hurt," he grumbled. The very thought made his stomach twist up into knots.

"I'm fine," she insisted. She gestured to herself as proof and smiled. "Perfectly well."

She was most certainly perfect. And too good at winning him over. His gaze dropped to the box. "So, what is it?"

"Open it," she said, excitedly.

It was a fully stocked potion kit, and some of the ingredients were very rare. He gasped as he inspected some of the vials. "These are amazing!"

She was practically bouncing with joy. "I knew you would love it."

He smiled at her, all forgiven. She smiled back. Gods, he could just fucking kiss her right now!

But he didn't. He just gave her a hug instead. And when her arms squeezed him right back, he knew he would be replaying this moment over and over before he went to sleep tonight.

....*....

Garreth had been lounging back on the sofa in the Gryffindor common room, reading up about some of the ways his new ingredients could be used, when he heard some 6th year students come in, gossiping.

"Did you see all the blood?" One of them said.

"Yeah, she didn't look good," the other replied. "I've seen her in Crossed Wands, she is bloody good at duelling, whatever this was it must have been bad."

"It was Sallow's face that got me," the first one said. "I always thought he was scared of nothing, but he looked scared as he carried her in."

Garreth sat up, an unsettling feeling washing over him. "What's that you said? Why was Sallow looking scared?"

They both paused and gave each other a look. The boy gave Garreth a grave face. "We just saw him carrying MC to the hospital wing. She was cut up pretty bad."

"Not moving either," the other one said.

Garreth shot up from the sofa, panic gripping him. "When was this?"

"Just now."

Garreth ran.

....*....

Sebastian was sitting just inside the entrance of the hospital wing, a cut on his forehead and lashes on his arms. Garreth gaped at him. "What happened?"

"Ashwinders," Sebastian sighed. His face was tight with worry and he looked towards where curtains had been drawn around a bed. "I only just managed to get MC out of there. It was bad."

Garreth sighed in fear and annoyance. "Why do you two do this shit?"

Sebastian scowled. "Don't start, Weasley. I've just had Ominis chewing my ear off, I don't need you at it as well."

Garreth was struggling to get a full breath in his lungs. "How bad is she?"

Sebastian paled. He stared at Garreth. "I know you like her..." He trailed off. He swallowed and looked back towards MC. "Just...prepare yourself. She got hit with a pretty powerful Diffindo."

It was a while before Garreth was even allowed to see MC. Sebastian sat with him for a while, but Nurse Blainey sent him away with strict orders to get some sleep. Sebastian promised to be back first thing.

Finally, Garreth was allowed to see her. As he peered around the curtains, Garreth winced, his eyes burning with tears at the sight of her asleep in that bed. Her skin was awfully pale, and the wounds...gods! How was she still alive?

He sat on the chair beside her bed and took her hand into his. He had always imagined what it would be like to hold her hand, he never expected the first time to be like this. It hurt. It made him angry. He could have lost her.

Who was he kidding? He didn't even have the nuts to ask her to be his. And look at her, running around fighting dark wizards and facing death on the regular. He didnt even deserve her.

But he would still sit at her bedside. There was nowhere else he would rather be.

....*....

It took a week for the worst of the wounds to close, and she was weak. But she still had a smile for him when Garreth visited, bringing treats from Honeydukes, and telling her about the exciting new ideas he had for the box of ingredients she had given him.

"You will have them all used up in no time," she said. She smiled. "I'm glad you like them."

"Even if I do use them all up, you won't go out looking for more trouble to find more, will you?" Garreth felt his stomach clench at the thought of her out there again, risking her life.

"I don't look for trouble, Garreth," she frowned. "But, I also won't stand by and watch others cause pain and trouble either. Innocent people get hurt!"

"Like you, you mean?" Garreth bit out. "And why is that your problem? You should be here, studying, preparing for your exams, not running around catching dark wizards."

She stared at him. "If I want to be an Auror then it's all experience," she said. "I have a unique gift, Garreth. Of course I am going to use it for the greater good."

He knew he was being a git, but his fear was clawing up his throat. He couldn't get the image of those wounds out of his mind. They were almost faded now, but he would always remember the red, angry slices on her beautiful skin.

"You almost died! If Sebastian hadn't been there, you would have!"

"But he was there," she said. She reached for his hand. "I'm alright. I will be out of here in no time."

"And then you will be running off to get yourself killed properly, I suppose."

She pulled her hand back. "I'm not going to let this stop me from doing what is right," she said, firmly.

"Then I guess you'd better hope that Sebastian will always be there to catch you when you fall," he said, bitterly. He shunted the chair back and stood, his hands clenched into fists. He had to get out of here.

"Garreth..." She sounded hurt, sad.

He paused at the curtains edge and turned to look back at her. She was utterly beautiful, pale and tired, but so perfect. He thought he might cry. "I just...I just can't lose you. I'm sorry."

He rushed from the hospital wing, regretting those last words out of his lips and the rawness with which he had spoken. The truth of them rung in his ears and he blinked back tears.

....*....

He couldn't face going back to the hospital wing to see her. He felt like an idiot, and he was pretty sure he had annoyed her. None of it seemed fair, and he had been in a foul mood for the last two days. The only time he bit back his frustration was when he asked Sebastian how she was doing.

Sebastian clapped him on the shoulder. "She will be out tomorrow, mate," he said. "You two need to talk. Not only am I sick of seeing your miserable mug, but I am getting rather tired of listening to her worrying over you."

Garreth frowned. "Worrying over me?"

Sebastian sighed. "You haven't been to see her, and she's noticed."

....*....

"So, this is where you've been hiding."

Garreth looked up from his notes, the parchments spread out on the bench in front of him covered in scribbled notes, some crossed out, some underlined. Beside him, his potion box was open and there were vials scattered around the cauldron that was simmering away nicely.

Working on his passion was always a good distraction, and he had begged to use the classroom after hours. Lately, he had been rather well behaved in class, and his assignments had been receiving good grades. Somehow, he was in Sharp's good books.

The reason for the need of distraction had just walked into the room. He had set himself up around the corner, hidden from the door for maximum peace and quiet. But, MC had found him. He put down his quill and slid his hands into his pockets. "Hi," he said.

She moved closer, her wounds healed, her face looking much healthier than the last time he had seen her. His mouth couldn't help but curve up a little. He had missed her.

"What are you working on?" She leant onto the table, picking up a parchment to see his notes. She grinned. "How can you even read these? Your scribbles are barely legible."

"I know what it says, and this way nobody can steal my ideas," he said. He tapped his temple and gave her a wink.

Her cheeks turned a little pink and she slid the parchment back towards him. She cleared her throat and peered into the cauldron. "So, tell me, what genuis are you brewing up this time?"

He pinched his lower lip between thumb and forefinger, eyeing her carefully. Was she going to be cross with him? He'd had to do something. The fear and worry was driving him crazy.

She met his gaze, curious. "Garreth, what is it?"

"It's..." He sighed, cringing a little. "It's an advanced healing potion. I figured that if you really were that determined to go off fighting every bad wizard that dares step foot in your vicinity, then I would rather you went prepared."

He rubbed his hand through his hair, feeling like a first class prick. It sounded like he didn't believe in her capabilities, but he did.

She stared at him, lips parted in surprise. "Why would you do all of this for me? I thought you were mad at me."

"I wasn't exactly mad at you," he said.

"Then what was it?" She asked.

He couldn't meet her eyes. She would see the truth. He was a rubbish poker player.

He startled as she grabbed his hand. His eyes flew to hers. "Tell me the truth," she begged. "I know you sat by my bedside, and you told me you couldn't lose me. Now you're trying to make a potion for me, to stop me getting hurt. What I want to know is why you can't even look at me? Why are you avoiding me? Please, Garreth...I can't lose you either!"

He sucked in a breath. For the life of him, he couldn't tear his gaze from hers now. She was close enough that he could see the little flecks of colour in her eyes, each eyelash curling up to frame those beautiful eyes that he could drown in. He was up to his neck in it with her, it was quite possible he would drown.

"I think I love you," he admitted. "You're beautiful, and you drive me fucking nuts. You're brave, you're brilliant, you make me smile...fuck, I think about you all the time."

The words just kept spilling from his lips, and her eyes were getting wider and wider, but now that he had started he just couldn't stop.

"When you run off to fight Merlin know's what, I'm scared shitless that you won't come back. I couldn't bear it if I never saw you again. Seeing you lying in that hospital bed damn near floored me, MC. I wasn't angry...I was scared."

He put a hand to his mouth. He had to stop this spouting off, she was going to run right back out of this room at any moment, shouting to whomever cared to listen that Weasley had lost his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away. Exposed was too mild a word for how he felt right then. He felt his cheeks growing hot and he wanted to disappear through the floor.

"Garreth," she whispered. He felt the gentle tug of her fingers on his shirt sleeve. "Garreth, please, look at me..."

His breath shook. What an idiot! But he dropped his hand and braced himself to turn back to her. He gaped. She was crying!

"Er...shit...what?" He was confused, his hands flapped uselessly as he thought about touching her, offering her some kind of comfort, but then thought maybe it was best not to. "You're upset...oh, shit. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say all that. Ignore me, I'm an idiot. Fuck, me and my big mouth..."

He grunted as she pressed her hand against his mouth, then she huffed a laugh through her tears and now he was really fucking confused. What was happening?!

"If you would just shut that big mouth of yours for a minute, then I just might be able to get a word in!"

He didn't dare move. His lips were tingling under the touch of her fingers. "Sorry," he mumbled. The word muffled against her restraint.

She smiled, her eyes all shiny with tears. He hated that he had made her cry. But, that thought soon vanished as she shifted the fingers that were pressed to his mouth. She slid them slowly along to trace the line of his jaw. He swallowed so hard it was almost a gulp.

Then, bloody hell, she was leaning in, her face getting ever closer. His heart quickened to a gallop. He might have even made a strange, whining noise, he wasn't entirely sure. Her lips touched his and every fibre of his being was screaming. She's kissing me!

He stared as her eyes fluttered closed, honestly her cuteness just went up another notch, and her lips were so soft. Not one, or two, but three soft kisses before she stopped to look up at him.

"Wow," he croaked. Nice one, Weasley, that will charm her.

She giggled. And then she booped him on the nose. "You're so cute," she said.

Cute? He didn't want her to think he was cute! He wanted her to be breathless, flushed and swooning in his arms.

He kissed her, his lips sealing firmly over hers, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head. He tilted her slightly, leaning forward to dip her backwards a little. Her hands gripped at the front of his shirt, and a small sound came from the back of her throat. Yes, this was much better.

Gods, she felt so good in his arms. His other hand moved to her waist, the delicious curve of it a delight under his gentle caress. She arched against him, her softness a tantalising tease, and he felt the blood rush immediately to his pants.

He kissed at her bottom lip, his tongue swirling for a taste, and when she parted her lips, he didn't hesitate, months of yearning driving him to kiss her deeper. He moaned into her mouth, his hand moving to pull her hips in closer. His blood thrummed through his veins, a haze of desire, thick and heady, was wrapping around him, driven by her little sounds and gasping breaths.

He felt her hands tugging at his shirt, pulling it out of his waistband, and then she was sliding warm palms over his stomach and back. His cock twitched eagerly, the feel of her touch making him sigh, making him want her all the more fiercely.

He needed to taste more, hungry and desperate to bury himself against her softness, drown in her scent, his lips grazed against her throat, the skin there delicate and sweet. Animalistic need made him bite, his teeth gentle but possessive, his mouth drawing her flesh upwards into a heady suck. Her moan almost made him come undone.

As natural as breathing, their hands explored, he was tugging at her tie, loosening the buttons on her shirt, his mouth devouring the skin over her collar bones. Her fingers were in his hair, tugging sharply, raising goosebumps along his flesh.

It wasn't enough. He would always want more. But, he should stop, before this got too far, before he began to play out the naughty fantasy of taking her over the potions table. His face warmed at the thought.

Reluctantly, he pulled back a little, staring down at her flushed face. It was deeply satisfying to see the damp plumpness of her lips, the darkened look in her dazed eyes. Red blemishes marred her pretty neck, and the rumpled state of her clothing was incredibly sexy. He almost groaned with the effort of restraint.

"Why did you stop?" She panted.

He smiled. "Not exactly the most private of spots to ravish you."

Her smirk was utter sin. "Exciting though, right?"

His eyes flared at her naughtiness. "MC!"

Her giggle was very naughty, her hand smoothing over his stomach before tugging at his waistband. She looked up at him through her lashes. "I want you," she whispered.

Garreth sucked in a breath, the ache for her sharpening into a pain. He pressed his forehead to hers, his hands moulding her hips and around to cup her arse. Fuck, she was so soft and round and he wanted to bury himself in it.

"Do you want me?" The breathless moan in her words had him panting.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned.

She arched, grinding against him, slow, teasing rocks of her hips. Garreth could hardly breathe, staring at the movement she made, transfixed. His cock was straining in his pants, dripping and desperate.

Fuck the fact they were in a classroom, he couldn't quite care when she was writhing up against him like this. His hand had a life of its own, sliding up her skirt to reveal the tops of those high socks she wore, the silky skin of her bare thigh was utter bliss, and then he had a handful of peachy soft arse, his fingers hunting greedily under the fabric of her knickers. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, through gritted teeth.

He moulded the shape of her, his fingers tracing the sexy curve of her cheeks, the tips grazing dangerously close to her heat. She moaned, writhing against him. "Touch me," she begged.

He slid a hand a little lower, squeezing her cheek, before dipping his fingers below. She was hot and wet and he groaned as his fingers slid against the slick. She panted desperately, her finger nails beginning to bite into his skin.

He sucked at her neck, nibbled her ear. "More?" He asked. She nodded, whimpering.

He slid a hand around to tug open her knickers at the front, sliding a tentative finger in that way. He felt her thighs part eagerly, his breaths hot against her ear as he slowly circled the pad of his finger over her slippery folds. Fuck, she felt good.

He went for it, finding the hot throb of her opening and slid his finger inwards, her walls immediately clenching around him. "Fucking hell," he groaned.

"Yes," she panted. Her hips rocked. "Garreth..."

Now, he would happily admit that he was inexperienced, a few cheeky snogs did not prepare you for the full blown raging horniness of this moment. He was fucking loving it, in his element, but he was 100% winging it. He had no idea how experienced she was, but she was bold, he would give her that.

Despite the burning need to explode in his pants, Garreth was gentle as he touched her, his finger probing, sliding in and out in a slow rhythm as she moaned and clutched at him. "Good?" He asked.

"Yes," she whined. Her hand gripped his wrist, her fingers fumbling to hold his. She moved his finger a little, pressing against her and rubbing, an incredibly sexy sound spilled from her mouth. It was fucking filthy, and her hips rolled. "Oh, gods, yes...there, Garreth. Right there."

His eyebrows raised so high in arousal and wonder, he rubbed where she had put him, and watched as she became an absolute mess. He forgot about himself for now, he was transfixed, getting the hang of a rhythm as he swirled and rubbed against her clit. Her face and neck flushed crimson, and the sounds she made, fuck!

She pulled him in for a kiss, and he obliged, their tongues fighting for dominance as she panted and moaned into his mouth. He felt the bite of his own arousal hovering at the edge of his awareness, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to hold it off. He just worked his finger faster, concentrating on that.

And then, she was gasping, her hand slapping down onto the table top, and he felt her clench madly, juices throbbing out over his hand. She sagged and her held her about the waist. "Are you alright?" He asked.

She sighed, nodding, brushing her hair back from her flushed, sweaty face. "Never better," she gasped.

....*....

The bite of early winter chill stung his cheeks, turning them pink. He adjusted his scarf and held MC closer against him, savouring her warmth. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She rested her head against his chest, her arms wrapped about his waist.

He thought he might be the happiest bloke in the world.

The rush and snap of Quidditch players rushed past and they both looked up. The match was in full swing, Gryffindor winning against Hufflepuff currently. Usually, he would be jumping up and down, hollering his head off, but today he was utterly content to stand and hold the girl he loved.

Leander had mocked him for going soft in the head, but he didn't care. One day, he was going to turn the teasing on him. He would take his mate's mocking quite happily, because this was quite possibly the best feeling in the world.

Well, almost. No, the best, was when they were both naked and holding each other close like this. Since that evening in the potions classroom, he had been unable to keep his hands to himself, addicted to making her fall apart like she had.

And when she returned the favour, or they timed it to jointly release their desire for each other, well...that was just fucking perfect in his eyes.

[whore-era]

clockwork

joel miller x fem!reader

smut, angst, slight fluff

summary: in which you open up about your trauma to joel. in turn, he shows you how much he cares for you, in more ways than one.

warnings: discussion of abandonment issues/trauma, minor discussion of familial death, mentions malnutrition/hypothermia, reader experiences a panic attack

contains smut: kissing, fingering

minors, those under 18, do not interact/read this fanfic. 18+ only.

(let me know if i miss any more necessary warnings ty baes)

a/n: hiii so this is my first time in a very long time writing fanfiction, especially smut! so im very open to constructive criticism and feedback :))) please let me know if u enjoy this and would like more from me!! also i got this idea from my boyfriend (bless his heart) so LOL the plot might be weird but anyways enjoy <3

word count: 2,185

clockwork. it was like clockwork the way your body forced you awake every night.

every night, you woke up from your sleep and turned around to face joel. you placed your hand on his chest, on his heart, and counted his heartbeat for a full minute. after then, you would be reassured that he’s okay. he’s alive. he’s with you. 

of course, he’s never woken up when you did this. and you wanted to keep it that way. it would be embarrassing if he found out what you did, and it’d be too much to explain why you needed to do it in the first place. 

this routine began when you first landed in jackson. 

covered in thick grime and muck, you passed out on the soft snow in front of the town’s gates. maria told you that the guards thought you were one of the infected and almost took you down. she was the one who approached your unconscious body first.

your skin was pallor, and you were thin and weak. they didn’t even know if you’d make it through the night, as malnourishment and hypothermia had overtaken you severely. it took you almost three weeks to fully recover, well, in the physical sense. 

the horrors of what you experienced outside those gates stuck with you. you developed a fear of being alone. of course, being alone for almost a year would do that to someone. the uneasy silence, the feeling of nothingness, and the thought of being abandoned again is what distresses you.

pushing those fears to the side, you imagined they could be conquered if you just put yourself out there again. 

this was how you fell in love with the infamous joel miller.

known as jackson’s dedicated grump, you’ve always had an eye for the older, reserved miller brother. it wasn’t until he strolled into the town’s clinic with a scratched-up face and a bruised shoulder that you realized he was not as bad as everyone sought him out to be.

on a weekly basis, he came in with a gash or a mark that needed tending to, which always led to a small, conversation as you intently fixed him up. joel finally mustered up the courage to ask you on a proper date on one of those days, which led you right to this moment. 

staring at the clock. 

the red glow of the number ‘3:00’ luminesced against your face. uneasiness settled into your stomach. 

it was like your body could sense something was off. there wasn’t usually a silence, you could always hear the soft breaths of sleep coming from joel, even when you’re facing away from him. but there was nothing.

with apprehension, you turned over. to your terror, joel’s spot beside you was vacant. the outline of his figure dented into the soft mattress beneath you. 

the air sucked out of your lungs. “j-joel?”, you called out. nothing. “jo-joel? are you in there?”

your body acted before your mind did, and you got up. you walked over to the bathroom to check if he was in there. empty.

you struggled to breathe and your eyes shot around the room, frantically checking signs of his presence in the space around you. 

“joel!”, you cried out, “joel!”

was joel okay? where was he? did he leave? did he need you? what if he needed help?

you didn’t know when the room began spinning, or when your heart began to beat faster, all you cared about was knowing if joel was okay.

you needed to know.

tears flooded your eyes. you didn’t know if he was in danger, or if he needed your help, and you felt useless. 

“sorry, lovebug, tommy came knockin’ on the door to cancel tomorrow’s patrol-”, joel made eye contact, concern immediately veiling his face. “hey, baby, what’s wrong?” 

he rushed over to where you were standing, his hands cupping your cheeks and searching your face for any signs of injury. your glossy eyes looked up at him, and your hands went over to cup his neck, slowly trailing down to his chest. even beneath the soft fabric of his shirt, you could feel joel’s heart.

one, two, three, four, five, si-

“baby? what are you doin’?”

“i-i need to check,” your voice came out shaky, tears rolling down your cheeks, “i need to check i-if you’re o-okay, that you’re actually a-alive.”

joel’s eyes softened, and his arms wrapped around your frame. your face buried into him, ear against his chest, and you could hear it. his heart. beating rhythmically. beating for you.

and finally, that was when you felt the air enter back into your lungs. you let out a choked sob that you were holding in. the tears came flooding. the sounds of your cries muffled against his warm body and you held him tight, afraid that he would slip away from you. 

leading you both towards the edge of the bed, joel sat you both down and he held you into him tighter, gently rocking you back and forth as you cried.

joel had an idea that you were holding some things back from him. he knew that there were some wounds that had yet to heal. 

it was evident in the way you hesitated and held your tongue whenever the topic of your family came up or when people asked how you ended up all alone in the first place. joel could tell you saw some things out there, things that visited you in your nightmares. but he never wanted to pry, he knew eventually that you would open up to him, as he did when you asked about sarah. 

joel pulled away, looking down at your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “i’m okay, darlin’,” he cooed, “i’m right here. always will be.”

you nodded, “i k-know, i just had to check.”

his eyes met yours, “is that why you been doin’ that thing every night?”

you closed your eyes in embarrassment. unbeknownst to you, joel had in fact been awake to know that you check his heartbeat every night. you wanted nothing more than to burrow into the earth’s darkness and never come out, but you know you had to eventually tell joel. you just didn’t think it’d be so soon. 

calm and relaxed, you nodded, “yes.”

“why, baby?” 

fiddling with your fingers and taking a deep breath, you looked up into his brown eyes. “because…i used to be scared of being alone. a year before i ended up here, in jackson, i was with my mom and my older sister.”

your voice began to shake and you felt your eyes brimming with tears. joel’s hands held onto yours as you spoke. “we ran away from the QZ in utah. it was a terrible place. so my mom took me and my sister and we left in the middle of the night. while we were camped out in the forest, they went to go hunting for food, and told me to wait,” you started crying again, “i waited for 8 days.”

joel’s heart sank. the realization hit him, you were alone for a year before showing up here. 

“i ended up trying to go back to the QZ in utah, but i saw them. they were both gone. i guess soldiers from the QZ were sent to find my mom. she was the only doctor there, and she was valuable. but instead they just..killed them,” you whispered the last part, closing your eyes, “my mom and my sister died so we could escape. so, i just continued on by myself until i ended up here.”

joel, heartbroken, took you in his arms once again, holding onto you tight. it made sense to him now. all the times he saw you, you were always with someone. you just needed to physically be present and with another person, to make you forget the horrors of what happened.

“i’m so sorry, angel,” joel spoke into your hair, giving your head a small kiss, “but you’ll never be alone again, not as long as you’re here with me.”

you pulled away and looked up at him, “joel,” you hesitated, “ever since i met you, my fear of being alone turned into fear of losing you.”

your confession made joel’s heart skip a beat. “i love you, joel.”

your lips gently made their way toward his and your arms encircled his neck. you both kiss each other with softness and sweetness until a whimper escapes the back of your throat, craving more. craving him. 

joel pulls away, afraid he might be going too fast with you especially after you just opened up about something so personal and traumatic, “maybe we can continue this tomorrow, sweetheart. should get some sleep.”

“i don’t want to sleep just yet,” your eyes searching his face, “i want to just..i want to feel you. i want to be with you. i want to be here with you.” 

you both look at each other for a second, before your lips crash into each others again. your tongue rubbed against his, gaining a deep moan from joel. his hands went to your hips, where he hoisted you up onto his lap and stood up, your legs wrapping around his waist. your lips made their way towards his neck, peppering soft kisses down his jawline and sucking softly above his collarbone. 

“let me make you feel good. i just want to feel you,” you kissed down his chest as your feet untangled from around his waist, your legs standing up. your hands went down to the waistband of his pajama pants and you went to kneel down before him, before he stopped you.

“no, darlin’. let me make you feel good,” joel pushed you against the bed, your back landing on the soft blankets, "tonight is gonna be about you."

he laid next to you, his lips meeting yours with one hand going over the curves of your body. his hand hovered over your breast, his fingers rubbing and pinching at your nipple. you whimpered against his lips, wetness pooling in your panties.

“god, you’re ’s gorgeous,” he whispered against your lips. his hands trailed down to the edge of your panties. you bucked your hips up, your body needing release. “please, joel.” you begged, spreading your legs apart. 

“please, what?” 

“please touch me.”

“touch you where?” 

“please, touch my pussy.”

“atta girl.” joel’s hands went inside your panties, his fingers rubbing at the entrance of your slit, soaking them up. “look at you. soaking wet, all for me.” you nodded, “all for you.”

joel’s fingers spread your pussy, and he used one to rub on your clit, eliciting a soft moan from you. he smirked, and rubbed your soaking clit in soft circles, the slick sound of the wetness echoing throughout the room. 

he added a second finger, building the pressure on your pussy. “let me hear you, sweet girl,” he cooed as his fingers did figure 8’s against your clit. a moan escaped your lips as your eyes closed and your head fell back in pleasure. 

“that’s my sweet girl.”

joel added a third finger, massaging your sopping, wet pussy. “yes, joel, god yes.”

his fingers went down to your entrance, your juices leaking out from you. joel inserted two fingers, gently pumping them in and out of you. they were sliding in and out so easily, lubricated with your sweet, sweet wetness. 

“fuck, baby, you feel so good,” joel murmured, curling his fingers inside of you. oh god, you could pass out any second. you felt lightheaded, drowning in immense pleasure. 

as joel’s thick fingers were sliding in and out of your pussy, the pad of his thumb began slow and soft circles against your swollen clit. you felt the orgasm begin to build in your stomach. 

“oh my god, joel, i’m gonna-“ his pace began to go a little faster, “yes, baby, stay like that.” you breathed out.

“go ‘head, sweet girl,” joel whispered softly, “cum for me.” your pussy tightened around his fingers, and a wave of ecstasy washed over you as your juices poured over his hand.

joel’s hand came up to his mouth and he sucked his fingers clean, making your face heat up. he quickly got up and told you to stay put, and he left and came back with a towel, cleaning you up.

getting into bed, joel put the duvet over both of your bodies. you laid down on his chest, with him wrapping his arm around you and his hand stroking your hair. 

“angel?”

“hm?”, you hummed, looking up at him. his eyes were already on you with a look of adoration. 

“i love you, more than you know,” joel whispered, “and you’ll never lose me, as long as you’ll have me.” 

and with that, he kissed you on top of your head and laid his head back, closing his eyes to fall back into slumber. 

you, in turn, closed your eyes to sleep. finally feeling at peace and confidence, knowing that you’ll always have joel miller with you, at your side. 

[sugarsfics]

Crushing On The Babysitter

Summary: Eddie finally has the courage to ask out his crush. What happens when she is babysitting? Not just babysitting anyone, he little sheep. Those same sheep he just told that having a crush is force conformity.  

A/N: Hiiii I'm Sugar this is my first fic and so many more to come so enjoy;)

Warnings: Use of Y/N, fluff, horrible writing.

Word count: 1.0k

Eddie fake gags as he watches Lucas stare at Max with the biggest heart eyes ever. As he looks around the table, he sees that almost all the boys have their eyes on someone, except for Mike and Dustin who are arguing on who's girlfriends are better. “Boys!” he says as he slams his lunch box on the table. “ Have you all been taken in my the dark side of the female gaze” he continues “Yes they are nice to look at but would they really want to be with us, us freaks it is all just force conformity” Dustin pipes in “Well Mike and I do have girlfriends” “ Still not believing till I see them, but as I was saying before they want you to look to fall in love for you to buy them stupid crap and that money that you are spending to make your “lover” happy goes straight to the big man’s pocket, that is way I never had or never will have a crush” oh boy was that a lie. 

Eddie has been hung up on the same girl since 8th grade. Y/N L/N. Just like him you were an outcast, a nerd. Your older brother was the founder of Hellfire and was very welcoming to Eddie. Sophomore year, your brother graduated and passed on the torch to you. Eddie was head over heels for you but was too scared that you did not like him. Oh boy was he wrong. After having many talks with Uncle Wayne, he was ready to ask you out. He asks you to meet him in the Hellfire room but then he got the worst news of his life, he failed senior year. He spent the rest of the day in his van smoking and fell asleep. When he woke up it was 5 pm and ran out and the parking lot was empty, your car was nowhere to been found. He apologized the next day and asked to talk to you again tonight, but you were busy. He never got the courage again then you graduated leaving him behind.  

He got home we you on his mind, as if Uncle Wayne were reading his mind “You would never believe who I saw at the store today” “Who” “Y/N L/N” Eddie’s heart skipped a beat hearing your name “Really?” “Yeah, she said she has been in town for about a month-” “Do you know how long she is staying” “Boy I did not ask her 21 questions” Eddie got a ran to his room “What are you doing” Eddie comes out with a nicer shirt on, his wallet, and a letter “Doing something I should have done a long time ago.  

You have watched the boys every Friday and Saturday since they were 5. It was always Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Will and you at your house or the wheeler’s basement playing D&D and watching movies. Even though you would have thought that you would stop watching the boys since they were now in high school but nope here there are. You plated the food for Mike, Dustin, and Lucas you almost grabbed a four plate out of habit for will, oh how you missed Will. Then the doorbell rang followed by rapid knocking. “Boys come eat” the three boys ran to the dining room. You open the door not excepting the person who was on the other side 

“Eddie?” he was frozen, how could you get more beautiful he thought. “Earth to Eddie” as you wave your hand in front of him. “Oh, sorry hi hey how are you” “I am doing great you?” “I am doing good oh oh these are for you” he brings beautiful boutique of red roses to your face. “Oh, wow thank you Eddie” “No problem I heard that they are the symbol of love so-” “EDDIE?” You both look behind you to see the boys staring at you guys. “Eddie what are you doing here with roses?" says mike Eddie’s face flushed a bright red “I- um – I – Well you see- I was-” “Boys go eat your dinner” “But-” “Now” they walk into the dining room but stay near the wall to hear you guys. “ I didn’t know you knew the freshman” “Yes those are my boys remember the littles one I used to babysit” “ Oh my god those are them” “Yeah isn't it crazy, but why did you stop by” “Oh yea well um listen so the night I stood you up I wanted to tell you something but then something happened, you the whole not graduating thing, then you got busy so um-” he spins and fishes something out of his pocket “ Here!” He gave you a letter. “What is this” “Read it, it will they you everything that I was going to tell you and so much more” he starts walking away until you pull his jacket “Stay, let me read it with you here with me” “Oh um yeah sure” he nervously laughs.

Dear Y/N I haven't got you out of my mind since the first day we met. I have been wanting to tell you this for so long but scared that your brother will banish me, or you just plain out would like me so here I goes. I really really really I could write so many really and it still would express how much I like you. You are funny, smart, beautiful, and so many more things and I really like you so much so will you give me a chance and go on a date with me? -Eddie M 

“Wow Eddie why didn’t you tell me this before” “I was too scared really” “Well that suck” “Sucks?” “Yeah because if you would have told me before you would have had yourself a girlfriend maybe now if you ask so kindly” “Wait really you like me too” “Duh” “Oh wow in that case Y/N L/N will you please let me, Eddie Munson, take you on a date and have the best night of your night” “ Yes” You make arrangements then kiss him on the cheek. The boys run to their seats as they are here the door closed “What” you look that the boys “Nothing” they say in unison. Oh boy were they going to tease Eddie Monday at school.  

[a-crumb-of-whump]

A New Beginning #21: Positive Affirmations

Masterlist | Read on AO3

Content: Self esteem issues, [mentioned] past child whump, recovery, pet whumpee, vampire whumpee, human caretaker, [past] parental whumpers.

I have been in such a slump recently, I'm so sorry for the lack of content </3 either the next chapter or the chapter after is when shit gets real.

-

“What’cha doin’?” Adam asked one morning as he sat down on the couch with his second cup of coffee. Carlos immediately glanced up from his new diary, a smile coming to his face when he realised that it was a genuine question rather than one asked out of politeness. 

“I’m practicing positive affirmations with myself,” he told him. “Trying to write down three things I like about myself, or three things I think I’m good at, or… really, just three positive things. It’s… uh, harder than the people in the video I watched made it seem. I only have one thing so far.” 

It was almost sad that he’d only been able to think of one thing in the hour that he’d been sitting here. Despite his humans’ constant flow of compliments and reassurances, his opinion of himself was still rather low, and it felt like there was something physically stopping him from seeing himself in any other light. Himself, perhaps?

Adam hummed, still looking half-asleep despite his attempts to wake himself up.  “Can I see what you got so far?” 

Obediently, Carlos rotated his book and pushed it towards the human, allowing him to see what he’d written. A single dot point, written in messy cursive that even Carlos found hard to read at times. He hoped that, with time, it would look better.

I’m good at being good. 

“You are,” Adam reassured him. “You’re always good to us. What about your art, as well? You’re getting pretty damn good at that.” 

The vampire considered that for a moment, thinking back to the last few things he’d scribbled down as of late. He’d certainly been getting better, but in comparison to the few pieces of art Rebel had been kind enough to show him, his was an embarrassment. 

He sighed, setting his hands down in his lap as he slouched a little. “But what if I think I’m good at something, and it turns out that I’m really not?” he asked quietly. “I was gonna put down that I’m okay at cooking, or that I’m getting better at remembering social cues, but I don’t wanna do that if I’m really not. I’m scared that if someone sees that I think of myself like that, they’ll get upset with me for… lying? or thinking too highly of myself?”

“Buddy, if you judge your skills by how the people around you perceive them, then you’ll never get anything down. The exercise is to write down things you like about yourself, right?” Carlos nodded, eyes directed at the table rather than at Adam. “Then, if you like that you can cook or do art or pick up on social cues, it counts. Nobody has any right to tell you you can’t like a certain aspect of yourself.” 

Huh. He’d never seen it that way. For so many years, any sign of self confidence was promptly beaten out of him, to the point where his entire life revolved around how the people around him viewed him rather than what he thought of himself. It was hard to imagine a world where he could be content with who he was without at least a little concern for the opinions of others.

He reached forward to pull the book back towards him again, idly tapping his pen against the open page a few times as he struggled to work up the courage to write down the things he wanted to be there. For a moment he looked up at Adam for some reassurance, and the man silently encouraged him with a warm smile and a nod. 

“I’m… I’m good at cooking,” he murmured to himself as he wrote it down. “I’m good at my art, and I’m getting better at reading social cues. There… those are my three things.” 

“Congratulations, man. Are you happy with it? Do you agree with what you’ve written?” 

There was a small hesitation before Carlos finally nodded. “Yes, I think so. At least, I know that one day I’ll mean it, right? If I say it enough times?” 

It made his heart warm to see Adam nod enthusiastically along with what he was saying. “For sure. You’ll get there eventually. Like most things, it just takes practice. Sort of a… ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ kinda concept. That’s how I did it, anyway.” 

“You had to do this, too?” 

The man shrugged. “Yeah. Both Ryker and I had to, in our own ways. I grew up being beaten horrendously for liking who I was. My mom and dad saw me as a burden and they hated when I didn’t see myself in the same way. You already know how Ryker was treated. That obviously had major effects on his self esteem, too, which… paired with his ADHD, put it at rock bottom for ages."

He took a sip from his cup of coffee, now staring down at his knees with them brought to his chest and his back against the arm of the couch. “We worked hard to build ourselves back up again, ‘n’ I’m so sorry that you’ve gotta go through that same journey. It fucking sucks.” 

“The world isn’t so great,” Carlos whispered after some time spent in silence. His chest felt heavy now, sorrow and guilt having made itself more comfortable there with each word that left Adam’s lips. Humans lived such short lives. Why did so many of them have to spend it recovering from things they had no control over? It didn’t seem fair. “Sometimes I wish that I could create another one, just for Ryker. One where he could have all the friends and family he wanted but never get hurt. He’d have those guardian angels that I read about in a book once watching over him and people to keep him company when he felt alone.” 

He adjusted his weight a little before finally glancing up at his human again. “You deserve to know that I would do the same for you, if I could. You protected Ryker throughout the years that I could not and gave me a real home to feel safe in. I owe you more than I can give.” 

It surprised him to see a dampness to Adam’s eyes as he smiled over at him. Unlike the ones of reassurance or comfort that he usually gave, this one seemed to be caused by what he’d said. Something that indicated he was happy with his words. That made Carlos happy, too. 

“You’re good at making the people around you happy,” he said after another sip of his drink. “Write that down on my behalf.”

Carlos instantly lit up, already pulling his book close again. “Yes, sir.” 

-

@choppedflowermuffinchild @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @emcscared-whumps @espresso-depresso-system @inkkswhumpandstuff @pigeonwhumps @pumpkin-spice-whump @roblingoblin285 @sacredwrath @some-thrilling-heroics @stabby-nunchucks @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @trans-writes @whump-blog @whumpsday @whumpshaped @paniatheweirdone @whumpycries @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thekittyburger @whumpdreamz

[roadtogracelandx45]

Unexpected|1| Webgott

This was originally supposed to be a one-shot but the more I started getting into the more I realized it needed to be a two-shot. This is the first time I am really writing Webster, so forgive me if anything is too wrong with him. I am still learning his character. (and reading his book.)

This is also going to be a part of Courage Under Fire.

Crossposted on wattpad, and ao3

3 months after Easy Company

 returns to the States

San Francisco, California 

Liebgott Residence 

David Webster didn't know how he ended up in San Francisco or how he ended up with Joe Liebgott's address but here he was standing on the porch that wrapped around the house. A porch that had a porch swing with pillows on it and planted flowers on either side of the door. 

 Olivia's touch, he assumed, the Joe, he knew would never do anything like this. Her family must have funded the house and their lifestyle. 

Joe was a barber who sometimes moonlighted as a cab driver and Olivia from what he understood from the clipped answers he got from Bill Guarnere was working with the VA.

  No way they could afford all this. 

 He swayed back and forth raising his fist to knock on the door causing a dog to bark and lights to flip on. 

Shit, they had a dog. Of course, they had a dog, they were on the path of having the whole goddamn American Dream. 

The war hero who fought in the European theater and his sweet-as-pie Southern Belle wife. And not to mention a baby. 

A baby that they found out about right after Olivia was attacked and Grant was shot. An almost final nail in the coffin of hope that Webster had built up since he returned from the hospital. 

The door swung up and the familiar click of the hammer of a gun being pulled down shook him out of his bitter thoughts. 

Standing on the other side of the door was a sleepy, shirtless Joe Liebgott with a handgun in his hand pointed right at him. His visibly pregnant wife appeared at the top of the stairs rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Joe? Who is it?"

"Webster! What the fuck are you doing here?" His voice was hard and cold like it had been when he first put his barracks bag in the back of the truck after returning from the hospital after missing 3 months of action.

David didn't answer him, instead, he just swayed on the spot, his eyes going from the man to the pregnant woman who had come down the steps, pulling a cotton robe closed over her nightgown, hiding the swollen belly from sight. Something he was thankful for, he hated that he got so jealous that Joe and Olivia were both getting the life that he wanted. He had come to a startling realization the night that Chuck Grant and Olivia both got hurt, that he wanted to be the one with Joe and the feelings he thought were mutual between them, and then the night after they spent together after VE day things changed.

Joe gravitate more towards Olivia again.

"Olivia." He hiccupped up.

"It's Mrs. Liebgott." She sniffed, her own bitter anger showing through, 'Let him in the house love, we don't want the neighbors talking.'

 Flicking the hammer of the gun back up Joe stepped aside and motioned for him to step into the house. 

Through the blurry vision,  he saw framed pictures in the hallway, the most recent one being taken in France after the war was officially over was of the couple at Izzy, Olivia's step-sister's quick wedding to John Egan, one of the bomber pilots from the infamous Bloody 100th. Even then, he could see the ghost of the dopey love-sick creatures they had been even with everything tearing them apart and spitting them back out.

"What're you doing here?" Joe repeated, his free hand winding around his wife's waist pulling her close to his side. 

"Fuck if I even know." He returned as he stumbled towards the armchair and flopped down onto it like he hadn't been a pretentious asshole throughout the three years they all served together. "Well for starters you can start by saying you are sorry for letting Olivia get into that Jeep with Grant." Joe's voice gradually got louder causing Webster to flinch, he had regretted letting Olivia, who had been sick and fighting a severe case of shell shock go outside and then climb into the jeep with Grant and the two replacements.

 Grant had been shot in the head and Olivia suffered an attack that almost cost her life and the life of their unborn child.

"Joe." Olivia soothed turning into him, her nose nudging against his jaw, her hand fisting into the band of his pajama bottoms, soft words being exchanged. The guilt that Webster had built up suddenly turned violent and the whiskey he had drunk started working its way back up his throat.

The love between the two was undeniable, he saw it that night when they were sent out to find the guy and Olivia and the way that Joe pulled her into his arms and how she clung to him and cried. Repeating her nightmarish attack. Joe and Bobby, Olivia's twin brother, had left her with a

 murderous Lewis Nixon and Dick Winters to go after Mac and Webster out of guilt and not wanting to see the damage that was done to her followed them and stood outside of the door watching Talbert and Luz play cards.

"I am sorry." He finally said, raising his blue eyes to look at them. "I shouldn't have let her go out with Chuck, I should have stopped her from going outside." "You are god damn right you should have." Joe bit out. "Why did you let me go if you knew that women were being targeted by the replacements and by the Krauts?" Olivia questioned at the same time.

"Because."

"That's not a good enough answer David." She snapped, "You do realize that I could have died! My baby could have died! Joe's baby could have died. Come up with an answer, or get the fuck out of my house.' 

"Because I was jealous." He raised his glassy eyes to look at the couple, he could tell that Joe was going to back his wife up and decided to just come out with it, “I was jealous because I am in love with you, Joe and you chose the social norm and her over me.” 

Surprised Joe led his wife to the couch to sit down, he was thankful that Olivia insisted on getting up when Webster knocked instead of staying in bed like the doctors wanted her to.

Too much excitement wasn't good, Joe blamed the attack and the fact that their mother had been running around in active shellings and patrols to save the men and he tried to enforce it but it was hard.

 She couldn't even take it easy after she got hurt, they had to sedate her to make her rest. He hated to do it but it was the only way that she was going to rest and in turn the nightmares were horrible. 

She woke up in cold sweats or screaming.

If she hadn't insisted on coming downstairs to see what was going on he would have laid David out. The anger outweighed that fleeting crush he had. 

The more time Joe had spent around Webster, the more he understood why Olivia spent so much time with Lewis or even Dick. It was a different kind of relationship than what they had and sometimes they craved it. 

"You are what?" She questioned with a surprised laugh, her hand gripping his hand in hers, honestly, she wasn't surprised by it. She had spent a better part of two years in close quarters with Nixon and Winters and saw how they were with each other and understood, "You know what," Olivia started as she squeezed her husband's hand and started to stand up, "You two need to talk and I don't need to be present.' Joe tightened his grip on her hand to make her stay seated next to him.

"Babe, you need to work this out, I will be upstairs with Peaches." Peaches was their beagle, a pup from her grandfather's dog Addee. "You know that it's going to take forever for me to go back to sleep."

David felt even more guilty, he should have thought this through all the way. But when it came to Joe Liebgott, he never seemed to think properly.

[amplifyme]

An excerpt from another BaTB fanfic I wrote back in 2012 that tells the story of twenty-three year old Vincent, and the first time he kills.

@randomfoggytiger This should be safe to read, if you'd like. No S3 spoilers, though the first section includes a conversation between Vincent and Diana.

The Sticking Place

“Did’ya ever get soda down here, when you were a kid? You know, Coca-Cola, root beer, anything like that?”

Pulled from his somber memories of a lithe, beautiful creature dancing across the vast expanse of the Great Hall and into his arms, all softness and warmth and wrapped in spicy, enticing aromas, and the moment suddenly turning nightmarish as she twisted away in alarm and pain, Vincent found himself staring dumbly at Cullen and his nonsensical question.

“You ever shake it up before you opened it? Don’t tell me you didn’t, ‘cause I won’t believe you. All kids do it. And more than a few adults, especially around holidays or weddings and the like, when you got a built-in excuse to spray beer or champagne all over somebody. Get drenched with it, eyes burning, laughing to beat all.” Cullen’s face softened and he smiled at what were clearly fond memories before turning his attention back to Vincent. “You’re that bottle of soda. The one that’s been shook up real good. All that pressure that’s building? It’s gonna pop eventually. It’s got to: it’s pure physics.”

Vincent had no response. Instead, he found himself waiting expectantly for whatever Cullen might say next.

“I’ve seen it. Selling door-to-door you start to get real good at reading people. And you learn to do it fast. Got to where I could see it in under thirty seconds, just as plain as I could read indifference or interest in their faces… the way they held themselves. All that shit building up inside, filling up all the nooks and crannies, nowhere left to go. Just about boiling over with it. It took me longer with you. And not just,” Cullen gave a sharp head-to-toe sweep of his hand down Vincent’s length, acknowledging the obvious without any sort of politeness as he continued, “because of the way you look. Most folks, they get loud with it. Yelling, threatening to call the cops, raising a fist in my face. All because I had the nerve to come knock on their door. But there’s some, and I’ve only seen a few myself, who get quiet instead. You’re one of the quiet ones, my friend. You’re real quiet. And that scares me.”

He had, while listening to Cullen, slowly retreated from his spot at the worktable, unaware he was even doing so. His back was at the edge of the doorway when Cullen’s eyes shifted and pinned him against the wall just as surely as an iron spike would have. “So tell me,” he asked, circling back to his earlier question. “Am I wrong, or am I right?”

Vincent hung his head, unwilling to challenge the look in Cullen’s eyes. He lifted his hands and saw that they were fisted. And now he could feel the sharp bite of his claws against his palms.

“It has,” he finally began haltingly, despairingly, “become… more difficult… of late.” He forced himself to raise his eyes and look steadily at the older man. “I am of no danger to you, Cullen, nor to anyone Below. You are my family, this is my home, and no harm will come to anyone here so long as I can prevent it. But I fear –”

He couldn’t finish the thought. He was ashamed and deeply perturbed at himself for almost admitting something aloud he’d hardly even found the courage to express in his journals. And he could still remember so vividly those dark nights, and the dreams, after Lisa had been sent Above. After he’d hurt her. The harness, with its hated straps and chains; the struggles to break free; the unearthly howls that’d scoured his throat and rung in merciless echoes in his head. And that mustn’t ever happen again.

[candy-floss-crazy]

I used to read how suicide was a major killer of men. That's something you don't really take notice of until it happens to your friends. Since hitting 45 I have lost a number of friends. Some to illness, an accident or two and one acquaintance with a drugs overdose. Recently an old friend from my childhood took his own life. Now, usually the death of a friend brings a feeling of profound sadness. In this case it was a mixture of sad, and anger. Some days the anger drowning out the sadness. Growing up on the fairground, there was a real tight gang of us. Hitting our mid twenties, most of us found love and some of us moved away from the North East, losing touch in the process. JJ and I had been friends up until we both moved. We didn't see each other for probably 20 years, then we met up at a mutual friends funeral. We ended up sat talking that long, that both of our spouses rang to see if we were ok, as they had expected us back hours before. Catching up on things we made a commitment to get together again. He was particularly impressed that I had acquired my pilots licence and we agreed to take a flight together. In the run up to Christmas we had been texting each other to try and arrange a night out, but our respective diary's stopped this. On our last text we agreed to pick it back up after Christmas That was the last contact I had with him. A few days into the new year, my dad rang to tell me that JJ had killed himself. There aren't many funerals I cry at, its just not in my nature, but I did at that one. All the old gang were there, except Cliff, who is in prison. I was struck by how everyone had turned into a hugger. That wasn't the macho gang I remember from my youth. But is that part of the problem. Men are expected to be macho, not to cry, to be inscrutable with their feelings. It Can Be Frightening Deciding to talk about this with my circle of friends, what I discovered was frightening. Probably 90% of them were on antidepressants. A couple admitted that they had seriously taken steps towards ending their lives. One described how he had sat there with a gun to his head trying to pluck the courage up to pull the trigger. Something snapped him out of it thankfully, and he threw the gun down, only to have it go off and narrowly miss shooting himself in the head! I didn't know whether to laugh or cry with him. If you read the government statistics then it shows that the so called Generation X, basically my age group are most at risk of dying from either suicide or drugs overdose. Killer Bulls So whats this got to do with the headline. Well, one of the funfairs we used to operate at when I was a kid, was in a little market town on the Yorkshire Dales called Leyburn. One day me, JJ and Cliff, the one in prison now, had gone fishing. Three of us sat there with one rod, when JJ suddenly jumped up and ran away. As I sat staring at his back, Cliff suddenly jumped up and ran the other way. Still puzzled I set off after him, catching him quite quickly due to my longer legs I asked between gasps what was up. "They are coming to kill us he screamed". ???? Looking over my shoulder I suddenly notices a herd of young bullocks stampeding towards us. Now I don't know if they intended harm, or they had just set off at a gallop because we were running. And to be honest I didn't care at that point. We reached a tree, which thankfully was climbable and both shimmied up as far as we could get. The herd of bloody cows, formed a circle around the tree, then all promptly laid down looking up at us. WTF. Eventually they slowly dispersed, probably bored waiting for their meals to come down. In the event we were up their almost 8 sodding hours. And what of JJ, the one who got away. He went home watched some morning TV, had his lunch, played with some of the other kids, then near teatime decided to tell what had happened. We ran into the rescue party as we finally managed to come down out of the tree and were making our way home. Suicide is so bloody final! And truly frightening when you look at how it seems to be increasing. Read the full article

[leomonwell]

The Heart of a Fighter: Michele’s Journey of Health and Hope

On the latest episode of the Leo MonWell podcast, I had an incredibly inspiring guest: Michele (with one L), haha.

Watch the FULL EPISODE or keep reading after the preview:

Michele has survived challenges that would have most people calling it quits—and she's still here, radiating positivity, warmth, and that fighter's spirit that leaves you in absolute awe. This woman is a true testament to resilience. Michele has faced down health issues that most of us can only imagine, and she's outperformed all the odds like it was a personal mission. She doesn’t just survive—she thrives.

So, let me set the scene. Michele's daily routine involves a lot more than the usual hustle many of us know. She goes through dialysis—a life-saving process that purifies her blood three times a week because her kidneys are no longer functioning. And though this process leaves her drained physically, she doesn't let it steal her joy or hope. Michele has her routines, her home life, and her daily rhythms, proving that her determination is what drives her, not her diagnosis. “It keeps me here so I can talk with you,” she says with gratitude, reframing something most people would dread as an opportunity to connect.

Dialysis, grafts, and fistulas in her arms? They’re just part of her story. Michele is upfront about the reality—she knows the risks, she knows the toll it takes, but she also knows that as long as she’s breathing, she’s fighting. And she’s been fighting for a while now. Her journey began in 1998 when her two sons were young. She had her first major hospitalization and almost lost her life, yet she was back out soon, continuing her mission of raising her boys. As a single mom, she did it all, and the beauty of her strength is that she didn’t give up, even when she was barely holding on financially. “I did what I could,” she told me, recalling how grilled cheese sandwiches became a meal to make it through to payday.

Michele shared the story of raising her two active boys on a tight budget—how they learned to make the best of what they had. And while those days were challenging, they were also filled with love and laughter.

Over the years, her health continued to test her. From TTP to multiple strokes and the loss of her ability to walk, Michele has had to re-learn basics like sitting up and moving her body again. But she made it, step by step, with her faith holding her up. There was a moment when she described the days after a stroke when she had to lie down to eat, unable to even sit upright without vertigo taking her down. She didn’t sugarcoat it—those were hard days, but in her words, “God carried me.” And Michele, in her unique way, has this fire that keeps her not only pushing forward but lifting up those around her, as she did for her sons and her grandson, who she raised for six years.

She’s a proud grandma now, and despite it all, she talks about life with such genuine love and positivity. We laughed when she described how she's now “petite” from all the weight she lost—finally fitting into a petite dress she’d long wanted. But trust me, that petite frame holds a super-sized spirit!

In a world that’s often caught up in convenience and comfort, Michele reminds us all about the strength found in struggle. As a medical social worker, I’ve seen plenty of people facing life-changing diagnoses, but Michele stands out. She hasn’t just fought—she’s shown that you can live, love, and lead a life filled with purpose no matter what the odds are. And it’s not about feeling sorry for herself or wanting anyone’s pity. She’s here to show the world that strength is possible, even on the toughest days.

So, to Michele with one L, I’m honored to have you as a guest. Your story is a beacon for anyone facing challenges, and I hope that everyone reading this takes a little piece of your courage and keeps it close. You’re here, and you’re living proof that resilience, faith, and a fighting spirit can carry us through anything. Thank you for being that light on the Leo MonWell podcast.

[zaceouiswriting]

The Truth: A last resort

Character: Reggie Mantle x male reader, Sweet Pea x male reader

Universe: Riverdale

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and a try. Major sadness. Reading on your own risk.

The pouring rain, which completely wet you trough and trough, prevented you from seeing anything in front of you. But the way back home, was engraved in your brain. Still you choose the completely opposite direction.

Your feet carried you without any hesitation. Thoughts were a past mistake, that did not to seem to appear again.

Even minutes later, the hard rain, did not stop. It seemed to get even worse. But you were almost at the place where everything would come to a close.

In the distance, you could see the roofed wooden bridge, that lead outside of the small town you called your home. As soon as the roof protected you from the rain, you breathed in. Finally be able to do it without getting water in your lungs.

You leaned against the wooden barrier. Fishing your phone out of your pocket. Which was wet too. But still worked just fine. Opening it, you immediately got confronted with a picture of you and Reggie, after one of his games. He was completely sweaty and still in his gear. You kissed him, after he had won and to rub salt in the wound. Veronica had made this picture of you two without your knowledge. When you found it, you made it your background.

The next thing were your messages. Reading trough them, ripped your heart in a million pieces. The „I love you“ and the messages that were full of „I miss you“, even when you two just had parted ways.

Everything seemed fake now. But the worst of all was the knowledge that you friends were aware of it happening. And did nothing. As if you were unimportant and could be easily replaced.

And you begin to think. With your body half over the barrier. Until you finally came to the conclusion, that the time finally came. You fought against these things in your head for years. Always finding a new reason to fight on. But now after everything, you finally lost all hope. Now standing over the river that began to fill up trough the immense rainfall. You had finally the courage to do it. One last time, you looked trough your picture roll. Seeing all the „happy“ moments you had. Now just like then, really feeling nothing about them.

You thought that you finally had it. But apparently, it was all a just imagination. At least no one, would see your final breath. Maybe your body would even never be discovered or far away from this place. 

As you put your phone back in your pocket. You stepped up to the bring of the outer side of the bride. Breathing in and out. Slowly counting to three. On the last number, you opened your eyes again, to look at the beautiful sight of the forest one last time, before closing them again.

Slowly you let yourself fall forward. A feeling of freedom and relief washed over you, as you finally realized that this was truly the end. You arms away from your body. Your feet began to loose the gravitation feeling that hold you in place of the bridge.

Just as you finally was gone trough all of your memories inside of your head, something unexpected happened. The gravitation became stronger again. Your feet got their hold back and the falling feeling began to dwindle.

Until you fully stood on the side of the bridge again. Just this time with two long, strong arms around you. Slowly lifting you over the barrier on the bridge itself. Confused and slightly angry, you turned to the person around.

As you looked him in the eyes, you world began to fall apart again. His jet black hair and mysterious dark eyes, reminded you so much of Reggie. But he was taller and a serpent tattoo was prominent on his neck.

You could see the concern in his most likely otherwise cold face. Just as he began to ask you a question, you suddenly bolted away. Running as fast as your legs could carry you, back home.

Coming trough the door. Your parents, immediately came to you. Concerned on their own, trying to help you. But you brushed past them, with an expressionless face as always. 

Finally back in your bedroom, you let yourself fall onto you bed. Letting everything that had happened reminisce once more. It stopped at the kind stranger, saving you. His eyes asking so many questions. And you running away from him and your problems, once again. You could only hope, to never see him again.

[gatheringbones]

["At the end of August in 1981, I found myself in a small town in Arkansas, where I knew no Lesbians other than my new lover, Lynn. I wanted it that way. We were living in hiding from my armed and vengeful ex-lover who had abused me for four years and had threatened both of us with deadly harm. This was five years before the publication of Kerry Lobel's ground-breaking book, Naming the Violence: Speaking Out About Lesbian Battering. I knew I had been battered, but I did not understand how deeply I had been injured.

I only knew that I seemed to have saved my life at the cost of my sanity. I jumped at loud and not-so-loud noises. A frown from a stranger could reduce me to tears. I was afraid to bathe if I was alone in the apartment. I relived every word of every fight in relentless flashbacks. I had blocked much of the unbearable pain of the previous four years out of my consciousness at the time, in order to cope with immediate danger. Now that I was "safe" it all came flooding back. To escape, I watched TV compulsively, avoiding anything violent—nature shows were my favorites—and I read science fiction. Having lost faith in women as well as men, I was a serious candidate for a species-change operation.

Luckily, at some point in that bleak winter, I read a magazine article on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) in Vietnam Vets, and I recognized all my symptoms. I had a name for my suffering, and 1 knew I was not "crazy." I'd felt so much guilt and anger towards myself for not being okay, that is, my old self, since I was "free." Now I knew healing would take time and effort, and I gave myself permission to not be normal right away. Also, seeing how much my condition resembled that of war survivors helped break down some of my denial about the hell I'd been through.

Still, I had no guidance on how to recover from PTSD. I followed only the dimmest instincts. First, I began to read accounts by survivors of any serious trauma. These people became my invisible support group. I found myself drawn especially to stories of political prisoners and concentration camp survivors. Although my experience was not like theirs, these were the people I felt would understand how my will had been sapped and my strengths twisted, how the smallest acts of resistance and mere endurance had needed all my wits and courage. Bruno Bettleheim in his chapters called "Behavior in Extreme Situations" (The Informed Heart) finally answered the question I'd put to myself every 44 hour since my escape: "How could I have been so stupid?" He made me realize that under abuse, especially the combination of intermittent threats, unpredictable violence and constant psychological torture, everyone responds differently, but everyone changes fundamentally, and everyone has their breaking point.

One day as I sat reading at the kitchen table, I looked out the window at the small yard beside our duplex apartment, and I began to imagine growing a garden there in the spring. It seemed like a highly improbable idea: the area was very small, steep, bare of everything but gray shale and orange clay, and the house shaded it part of the day. But the notion of a garden took root strongly. For the first time in several years I had something pleasant to anticipate.

I wrangled my landlady's permission to put in a garden. Then I mailed off postcards for seed catalogs. I persuaded an acquaintance who owned a truck to bring me a load of cedar slabs discarded by a local sawmill, and I used these to construct two frames, about four feet by six feet, and two even smaller ones, just three feet by four feet. By this time Lynn and I had saved enough money to buy a very old VW bug, so we drove to a nearby creekbank and filled bushel baskets with rich bottom dirt, which we dumped into the frames to make raised beds about four inches deep.

To supplement the tiny growing space, Lynn scavenged large cans from the cafeteria of the hospital where she worked. I painted them a hopeful green, filled them with soil and placed them along the sidewalk below our porch. Old-timey "Corn-row Beans," originally bred to tolerate the shade of cornfields, grew up strings tied to the roof and bore prolifically.

I didn't have much money from my SSI income to spend on garden gadgets, so I made do. I wove a trellis for my peas from six-pack rings liberated from a liquor store trash bin. (I can testify that this plastic never biodegrades—the pea fence survives to this day.) I got some more bushel baskets from the local grocery, painted them with non-toxic preservative and lined them with garbage bags after snipping a few drainage holes in the bottom. Placed around a small stone patio above the garden, these became containers for large plants.

The garden rewarded me before the first mouthful of early spinach was harvested. It moved me out of the gloomy apartment and into the sunshine, watering can in hand. It motivated me to interact with people and to occasionally risk asking for help. I found out they would usually say yes. My attention was now focused on the future, not the bitter, unchangeable past. At night when the flashbacks threatened to roll, when I dreaded the dreams I might have, I put myself to sleep with 45 detailed plans of my next crop rotation. I found out I could learn a major new skill, a little at a time. I could do things right, even come up with ingenious solutions to seemingly impossible difficulties. And when I did things wrong, plants were most often forgiving. The plants themselves were a tremendous source of inspiration. Talk about survivors! They defied every book written about their needs, often thriving with too little sun, too little water, and too little soil. At the end of a year, I could easily stick my shovel in the dirt up to the hilt, where only four inches of top soil had previously existed; compost and the action of the roots had created friable loam out of shale and clay.

When I experienced failure with gardening, it was never the kind of disaster I'd grown to associate with mistakes. We didn't go hungry, because other crops outstripped our expectations. My lover didn't beat or berate me, but sympathized and helped. The garden was important to us economically, because we'd both lost almost everything we owned in our escape. Luckily, in southern Arkansas, it's possible to garden yearround. The garden gave me precious, desperately needed tastes of success. Disabled, unemployed, I still felt like an important contributor to the household. I even had food to give away sometimes, and that was a delicious feeling.

Gardening was not the only factor in my recovery, but it was an important one. I didn't grow up with abuse, but battering and similar traumas can expand minutes into hours, years into decades, until four years feel like most of a lifetime. At the end of a year and a half of gardening, I no longer felt as if I'd spent the majority of my life in a battering situation. Healing had acquired a new definition for me: I didn't insist on having the old me back; I'd mourned her long and well. I accepted the fact that some injuries are too severe to be made whole, that I might never be the same again. But I began to actually like and trust the me I am now, scars and all. As my garden taught me, I must make do with what I am. I have discovered that my flaws are not fatal and my successes are greater than I'd hoped for. So far I have not gone hungry, and I even have something to offer."]

Amy Edgington, Gaining Ground, from Garden Variety Dykes: Lesbian Traditions In Gardening, Herbooks, 1994

[ladyartemesia]

TEASER: Kim Seokjin and the Mean Omega

Pairing: Nerd Alpha Kim Seokjin x Popular Omega Reader

Genre: A/B/O • Enemies to Lovers • (Sorta) College AU • Best Friend's Brother AU (Who is surprised? No one?)

Teaser Word Count: 3.6K

Teaser Warnings: A/B/O sexual dynamics • suggestive content

Rating: Explicit (18+) (Teaser is PG-13)

Summary: In the modern world, alphas are almost unheard of so why even bother learning about them? After all, as a spoiled (but reasonably kind-hearted) omega who is used to getting whatever she wants, you have better things to do. However, when unexpected circumstances throw you in the path of (extremely) nerdy and (probably?) shy Kim Seokjin, you're shocked to discover that he won't be wrapped around your little finger as easily as all the rest. Bringing that infuriating geek to his knees quickly becomes your personal mission in life... But it turns out that Kim Seokjin is not what he appears to be and the mean omega who eats beta boys for breakfast is about to get way more than she bargained for...

Author’s Note: This story would not be here without the love, support and friendship of my incredible support system. You talk with me, you laugh with me, you listen when I’m crying, and you read my chaotic drafts when I am ready to pull my hair out of my head in frustration. I love you all. @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen @lemonjoonah. ALSO thank you to each and every one of you who encouraged me to post this story. This fic is dedicated to all of you as a token of my love and appreciation. Your support keeps me writing. Never doubt that for a second.

“...due to discriminatory anti-alpha policies in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, alphas were nearly eliminated from the general population…”

You heaved a weary sigh and rolled your shoulders—stretching the buttons of your high-end Oxford shirt to their limit. The beta sophomore to your right whined audibly and you smirked.

“...despite efforts to restore the genetic balance of designations, alphas currently comprise less than one percent of the population…”

Your back arched slightly as you crossed your legs, letting the absurdly short hem of your skirt ride up even higher. The poor boy you were tormenting shifted miserably in his seat.

How was he supposed to focus on a Human Biology and Designation Studies lecture when the living breathing embodiment of every sweaty undergrad’s fantasies was twisting her fingers in her hair and wrapping her pretty pink tongue around a strawberry lollipop right there in the middle of class?

“...unlike betas and omegas, alphas possess enhanced strength and the ability to compel other designations with their voice. Unmated alphas especially were often baselessly feared and distrusted...”

You knew exactly how you affected boys like him. You were a shameless tease who relished their attention and the power it brought you. Who needed drugs when driving a man mad with desire was a rush more potent than any high?

“...and that’s all for today so please read pages 450-466 in the text over break and remember to turn in your essay on scent and consent in intimacy—”

That poor sophomore looked like he had finally worked up the courage to speak to you, but you were already out the door and tearing down the hall toward your beautiful (and entirely platonic) counterpart, Kim Taehyung.

“Do you think Professor Moore is unaware that class is over at 3:25 or is he just torturing us for science?”

Taehyung shrugged, falling into step beside you with practiced ease.

“I mean I would torture you for free so it’s hard to say.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up at his characteristic dry humor, but the irritation at being held in that sweltering lecture hall for an extra ten minutes had frayed your temper.

“It’s the last class before spring break, I’m sure he was on some sort of twisted power trip.” You dug around in your purse for some chapstick, ignoring Tae’s amused snorting, “Alphas barely exist anymore and none of us are likely to meet one. Why bother learning what they can do?”

Taehyung tilted his head in amusement.

“You might be surprised.”

The final party before the beginning of spring break was always a laid back affair.

Many people had already caught planes to their various destinations, but your flight was scheduled for early tomorrow morning—leaving you with some time to kill.

Taehyung pressed his newest experimental concoction into your hand within minutes of entering the house (a surprisingly neat bachelor pad owned by two seniors, Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi) and then darted back to the kitchen to craft more questionable alcohol potions like a deranged party warlock.

You had just found a comfortable place on the couch and were contemplating whether sampling your best friend’s mad scientist elixir would be worth the probable damage to your body when—

“H-Hello...”

It was that sophomore from your Designations Studies class. What was his name again? Jungwoo? Jinwook?

“Jungkook,” you smiled, delighted to have remembered before it became awkward. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You motioned to the empty cushion next to you and the man in question scrambled over like he’d won the lottery.

“I—I know we don’t know each other well, but I noticed you were absent during Professor Moore’s lecture on intimacy and scent consent so I—” he blushed deeply, “I wrote the essay for you—and I brought a copy on my flash drive if-if you want it.”

Your heart melted immediately.

“Oh my gosh Jungkook, that is so sweet of you!”

Your gaze darted over his muscular form and thick brown curls.

Sweet indeed.

“I don’t want to miss out on the learning though,” you pouted, placing a hand on his tattooed bicep. “Can you explain it to me?”

Jungkook nodded vigorously even as his wide eyes fell to where your fingers were sliding slowly over his chest.

Scent consent was a pretty basic and universally known concept, but you really were touched by the handsome sophomore's consideration.

Why not give him (and yourself) a little reward?

“Um so basically if two people are involved in...intimate activities—”

You leaned forward to nip his ear lightly and he whimpered.

“Like this?” you asked innocently.

“Y-Yes. Like that.” He gulped. “In an intimate situation consent or refusal can be smelled. The scent of refusal or reluctance in intimacy is strong, unmistakable, and has a high chemical potency.”

“Is that so?” you drawled, sliding over onto his lap. Jungkook’s eyes rolled back into his head and you bit back a grin.

He was adorable.

“Uh-huh—it—oh my gawd,” (you were nibbling on his ear again) “it can immediately block sexual arousal and performance in the other partner. Meaning, if consent is not present, then it becomes difficult or—ahh” (his voice began to waver under your continued attention) “—or even impossible to continue with intimate acts.”

Your hand slid up to his cheek, bringing him closer till your lips were almost touching.

“Then what does it mean if I’m still so turned on right now?”

“It means,” Jungkook shuddered—nearly delirious with your scent, “that I really really want you.”

Across the room, Park Jimin chuckled as he watched you seduce his enthusiastic friend.

Jeon Jungkook was such a sweet kid.

Hopefully he wouldn’t get too attached.

“Wow... Some people are genuinely born blessed I suppose.”

Jimin turned to see Jung Hoseok eyeing the dimly lit corner where you and the eager young sophomore were exploring each other.

It was a rather...provocative spectacle. Not quite raunchy (you weren’t truly an exhibitionist)—just insanely sexy.

Jimin’s gaze lingered on the smooth curve of your thigh where Jeon Jungkook was currently holding on for dear life.

Lucky bastard.

“Ah you know how she is,” he sighed. “That boy isn’t going to get any farther than anyone else.”

It was relatively common knowledge that you liked to mess around but rarely—if ever— fully hooked up with anyone.

Jimin asked you about it once during a drunken game of truth or dare and you had just shrugged, mumbling something along the lines of avoiding STDs (which—to be fair—was at least part of your motivation), but the truth was a little more complicated than that.

In terms of experience, you weren’t a virgin, but... you hadn’t actually had sex in years.

You loved the chase, the foreplay, the build-up—the game of cat-and-mouse between two people who were attracted to one another.

But the final consummation was always so…

Wildly unfulfilling.

Every encounter left you frustrated. Empty.

Grumpy—even.

So you stopped bothering with it all together. (That was what sex toys were for after all.)

At the end of the day you were perfectly content being labeled a tease—it meant that people tended to know what they were (or rather weren’t) getting into when they rolled the dice with you.

Besides…it hadn’t even put a dent in your throng of admirers.

You were sunny, spoiled, indulgent, almost universally adored—

And you loved every minute of it.

“You know…” Hoseok took a long sip of his drink. “I always thought she would end up with Taehyung, but it’s been three years.”

Like you, Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat and it was only natural that two beautiful and absurdly privileged people would gravitate to one another. You met at a freshman pledge party and had been an inseparable (and formidable) dynamic duo ever since.

The undisputed king and queen of campus.

Yes—maybe the two of you were a little self-absorbed at times, but it was hardly your fault that people tended to instinctively cater to the force of your combined looks, wealth, and charisma.

And it didn’t hurt that neither of you were ever intentionally cruel or unkind.

Just... habitually thoughtless.

(Though not when it came to each other. If anything your friendship was one area where you were both a little more human.)

Jimin shook his head.

“Nah that’s never gonna happen.” He tapped his nose. “They’re scent-crossed.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

Scent-crossed pairs didn’t smell sexually attractive to each other.

Like. At all.

No matter how physically or visually appealing an individual might be, it would be near impossible to form a sexual or romantic attachment to them if you were scent-crossed. Alphas, betas, and omegas were all subject to their noses first and foremost in the realm of attraction.

You and Taehyung smelled like comfort and home to one another...

But you were more turned on by a crisp cup of apple juice than you were his scent and the feeling was quite mutual.

He might as well have been your actual brother.

“That explains so much.” Hoseok snorted as he watched a drunken Taehyung do a flying leap on top of both you and Jungkook.

“Why is sunlight so offensive?” you croaked, dragging yourself and your luggage toward the boarding ramp next to an equally miserable Taehyung.

“The next time I book a flight before 9 AM, please shoot me,” he grunted.

Your parents were celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with a month-long European cruise so your best friend had graciously invited you to spend two glorious weeks of spring vacation at his family estate.

The invitation had actually come as somewhat of a surprise because—for all your closeness—Taehyung was uncharacteristically tight-lipped about his family.

Not that he was deliberately withholding information per se… It was just that he never really brought them up beyond an occasional passing comment.

The one time you did ask him about them directly he sighed and said—

“We’re very close, but… I suppose we’ve just gotten used to being very private.”

There was clearly more to the story, but you were confident that Tae would share it if and when he was ready.

“My parents are in Seoul opening a new branch of the company. They took my little sister with them and my older brother has his own house so it will be just us.” He snuggled deeper into the first class seat directly next to yours. “We’ll hang out by the pool and chill during the day, then hit up some of the new clubs or whatever at night.”

“So… No one from your family will be there?”

Perhaps the invitation was not so surprising after all.

“Nope. Just you and me and thirty acres of ocean front property.”

You grinned.

“Perfect.”

“Whose room is that?”

The two of you were lugging your bags down the main hall of Taehyung’s expansive mansion when a strange hint of...something caught you right by the nose.

Your friend turned to find you frozen and staring curiously at a familiar door near the balcony.

His eyes widened, but you were too preoccupied to notice his momentary concern.

“That’s just Jin’s room.”

A firm hand wrapped around your wrist and dragged you away, but your eyes stayed glued to the source of the mysterious scent until you were around the corner and out of sight.

Your suite for the next two weeks was right across the hall from Taehyung’s. There was a whirlpool, a full bath, a balcony, and an ocean view that would rival the cover spread of any travel magazine.

Tae headed for the shower (to ‘wash the airplane off’) immediately after showing you the room and you were thinking of doing the same except…

Your mind kept going back to that door and the hint of scent you detected.

There was something… different about it.

It was faint—and far from fresh (which made sense considering that one of the few things you did know about Kim Seokjin was that he hadn’t lived in this house for years).

But still…

The need to smell it again pressed insistently at the back of your mind.

Suddenly the sound of Taehyung singing raunchy lyrics in the shower carried over through the walls and you found your feet moving almost of their own accord.

What Tae doesn’t know won’t hurt him, you rationalized, making your way down the hall toward Jin’s door. Besides—it’s not as if I’m going to steal anything…

You just needed to find that scent again.

By the time your fingers closed over the knob every one of your nerves was strangely—acutely—alert but nothing could have prepared you for what was waiting behind the door.

Oh. My. Gosh.

“What a colossal nerd.”

The room was covered floor to ceiling in Nintendo memorabilia.

Bright primary colors assaulted your eyes from all directions in the form of action figures, posters, pillows, and every other conceivable merch variety known to man.

In the center of the suite stood a large king-sized bed covered in a custom black couture toile-style Mario-verse bed set (that looked every bit as expensive as it was geeky) and a mountain of high quality Nintendo character plush toys.

Everything was simultaneously luxe and nostalgic—a rare combination of sophisticated aesthetic balance and childlike indulgence.

And the scent was there.

It was faint and covered under layers of cleaner and air fresheners, but still lingering just below the surface—too weak for you to get a really good whiff, yet potent enough to torment you.

You moved forward unconsciously toward the strongest source of the hypnotic smell—the strangely inviting expanse of Kim Seokjin’s mattress.

Suddenly the urge to climb—no crawl—across the bed itself and roll around in it like a kitten in catnip gripped you out of nowhere.

“What the hell?” you muttered, rubbing absently over the mating gland at the base of your neck.

Something very odd was going on with your body.

Your restless gaze zeroed in on one of the stuffed toys piled atop his pillows. It was a cute little mushroom man your brain recognized as a Mario character named ‘Toad’.

Take it.

Your mouth dropped open in shock.

You need it.

“Am I going insane?” you wondered aloud.

You have to take it.

Muscles in your hand began to twitch involuntarily. You bit your lip.

Bring it back with you.

Several minutes later a freshly washed Taehyung wandered over to your room and found you sitting perfectly still on your bed while staring off into space.

His head tilted in curious concern.

“Everything ok?”

You started a bit at the sound of his voice, but recovered quickly.

“Never better!” you chirped—almost too brightly. “Let’s go get some dinner, I’m starving.”

Then you grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall toward the kitchen—shutting the door before he could catch a glimpse of his brother’s stuffed Toad doll stashed underneath your pillow

“...a critical water main rupture in the city’s New Market district early this morning has forced several residents out of their homes as flood water swelled up to nearly two feet. The governor declared a state of emergency and ordered hotels around the city to accommodate the displaced citizens. Crews are still clearing the water and assessing damages. We expect—

“Hey!” you shouted through a mouthful of cereal, after Your best friend switched off the television, “I was watching that!”

“And what you should be doing is getting ready for the pool.” Tae snatched your cereal bowl and dragged you by your shirt collar toward the stairs. “It is the first morning of our vacation. I’m not trying to waste any time. Now go.” He shoved you forward, smacking your ass for good measure.

You swatted back at him half-heartedly as jogged back up to the room where you enjoyed a surprisingly restful sleep last night.

Kim Seokjin’s door glared at you accusingly as you shuffled past—unable to let you forget that you had kidnapped it’s little mushroom man in an unexplained fit of kleptomania, but that was a problem for your future self.

The you of right now was going to zen out in the Kim family's premium glass-enclosed indoor pool (it was still a little chilly for the outdoor pool) with her best friend and bask in the simple joys of good company and no responsibility.

...Or not.

A few minutes later you bounced into the living room wearing a simple black tankini with a cute floral cover only to find Taehyung on the phone with his head in his hands.

“Yes, sir. I understand… I...I know this is my responsibility...”

That didn’t sound good.

After a few more tense moments, Tae hung up and collapsed backward into the couch with a heavy sigh.

“That water main break you heard about on TV this morning was the last straw between the province and its current contractor. They called an emergency meeting for new bids.”

Your heart dropped as you sank down beside him.

“Your dad wants you to go...doesn’t he.”

Taehyung nodded miserably.

“He can’t leave the Seoul opening on such short notice and managing government construction contracts is part of what I’ve been training for. This could be huge for our company.”

“Well...why doesn’t your brother go?”

“Jin is the brains behind most of our patented gaming and tech innovations. He wouldn’t even know where to begin with this sort of thing. Besides,” his lips quirked up in a rueful grin, “my brother doesn’t have the patience to stroke entitled geriatric egos for hours on end—which is likely what I’m going to have to do.”

The two of you headed back to Taehyung’s room where you helped him pack some suits and toiletries for his trip.

Naturally you were disappointed but...this was a great opportunity for your best friend to prove himself in his chosen field and you both knew it. In fact, he was already starting to brighten a bit.

“The meeting is about a hundred miles north of here. My dad’s secretary already handled the flight and hotel room.” His eyes darted around the suite to see if he was forgetting anything.

It was clear he was nervous, though you were sure he didn’t need to be. Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat, but he was also talented and deeply passionate about his family’s company.

Someday this would be the norm. The two of you were stealing time in college, determined to live a little before the expectations of your powerful families transferred fully onto your shoulders.

It was becoming more and more clear, however, that your carefree time was slowly running out.

Mother had already spoken to you about potential marriage alliances and your father expected you to intern with his Vice President this summer just as your elder sister had...

Taehyung’s voice suddenly interrupted your bittersweet introspection and you couldn’t help but smile at how grown-up he looked in his suit and briefcase ensemble.

Everything was going to change, but not quite yet.

“They estimate negotiations should take around a week or so…” He walked over and pulled you into a tight hug. “There should still be some vacation left for us when I get back.”

“Hurry back then,” you mumbled grumpily into his chest and he chuckled.

“I will.”

Taehyung had been gone for less than twenty minutes when you decided that the best use of your time would be to eat more snacks.

The last thing you expected when you skipped merrily into the kitchen was to find it occupied by a shaggy-haired homeless man in glasses.

Your first instinct was to scream which caused the homeless man to drop the apple he was biting right onto the floor where it rolled around for a small eternity before coming to rest at his ankles.

Your second instinct was to grab a butcher’s cleaver from the nearby knife block and wave it chaotically at the intruder while shouting something along the lines of—

“You’ve made a huge mistake! My boyfriend is the biggest, meanest mafia boss in Seoul! Leave now and he might let you live!”

The homeless man continued to stare at you with a mixture of confusion and shock, but made no move to run away in terror like you were hoping.

So you tried again.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?! The last man who touched me drinks his steak through a straw now! Do the smart thing and leave before my boyfriend comes down those stairs and it’s too late!”

Infuriatingly, the homeless man was still not fleeing for his life and frankly you were starting to get frustrated. You drew in a deep cleansing breath and were prepared to issue another grandiose threat when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, miss. I... think there’s been some sort of mistake. Who is your boyfriend?”

There was no rational explanation for what came out of your mouth next, but it rolled off your tongue so smoothly and you didn’t even flinch.

“Kim Seokjin.”

For the first time in your entire exchange, the intruder looked truly alarmed.

Now that’s more like it.

“You’ve heard of him I see. He’s a dangerous man and my body belongs to him.” You slammed the cleaver down onto the countertop with a (hopefully) menacing slash. “Kim Seokjin doesn’t like when other men put their hands on what belongs to him.”

There was a long, unpardonably tense moment of silence…Then the stranger slowly reached forward and picked up a mobile phone from the table in front of him.

His eyes remained locked with yours as he pressed a quick series of buttons, brought the phone to his ear, waited a few seconds and said—

“Taehyung… Would you mind telling me why there is a half-naked, knife-wielding omega in our kitchen claiming to be my girlfriend?”

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