#but once my energy returns i’m really excited to do some drawing

[thatonebluedog]

Sorry I’ve been gone for a bit, I just got back from a road trip with my dad. Gonna try and post some more art soon, but in the meantime here are some photos I took in Victoria

[pandorafallz]

Ashes in her wake | C10

Kìoetey felt a familiar relief at the sight of the Hollows. So little time since she had last been here but it felt far longer now. The last time she had been here… it was when Cortez had shown her the truth of their clan. Had she really not been back after that?

Katir landed, chuckling a little softly at an excited child who stared in awe at the Ikran, mouth open.

“<Careful, my son.>” The child’s mother said, pulling him back. “<Ikran are proud creatures. Do not look in their eye.>”

Kìoetey patted Katir’s neck as she slipped off her harness, nudging her onwards and heading into the clan’s home.

It was filled with people, even Zeswa and a few Aranahe were still about, some still looking hung-over or tired and some happily chattering away. New connections still forming. Still pleasing to see.

“<Sarentu?>

Kìoetey turned swiftly before she smiled at the familiar form of Okul who was down by the cooking station but filling a small canteen with some sort of broth. “<Okul. It’s good to see you.>”

Okul came out, though smiling there was an odd look in their eye which dimmed her relief in seeing them. “<You’re here, Sarentu. I didn’t expect that.>”

“<Is… everything alright?>”

Okul’s head tilted a fraction. “<I am very tired. Anufi has allowed me time away from the Hollows unbothered to regain my mental energy. I was about to go once I had made myself some food for the journey. I will be going north to Herbalist’s Keep which rests beside the yavä.>”

“<Did something happen?>” Kìoetey asked.

“<Yes, but I’m sure you’re very aware of It>,” Okul said very causally, setting the stopper into their canteen and setting it onto a hip bag. “<Are you looking for Anufi?>”

They seemed very… well, skittish wasn’t the right word but they lacked a clear opening to talk for much longer. Not disinterested either. It was… an odd energy they had. “<Er.. Yes. I’ve recently recovered my sister’s remains. I wish her aid in returning her to Eywa.>”

Okul’s head straightened up. “<Anufi is with Eywa in the Circle of Ancestors. Meditating. I’m certain you can draw her out to discuss matters with her.>”

Kìoetey spared a glance towards the way before she nodded. “<Thank you.>”

Okul nodded. “<If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be making my way.>” They gestured their goodbye from their forehead and departed with a hop in their step before Kìoetey just watched them go for a moment then sighed heavily.

She could talk to them later once they were back. Okul didn’t seem like someone who’d tire out; she had seen them with almost boundless energy even after yavä exposure and being chased by a Feral. Maybe the amount of new people was overwhelming.

Kìoetey didn’t linger but entered the cavern where the Whispering Greatcaps stood with long tendrils hanging down to seated people. Anufi wasn’t alone, others were also connected to Eywa but the Tsahìk looked very content with her eyes closed in her connection.

Kìoetey pondered for a moment if she should speak up and draw her out but it wasn’t for more than a few moments before the Tsahìk sighed deeply and pulled her kuru free, her head tilting toward her.

“<Sarentu.>”

“<I hope I’m not disturbing you.>” Kìoetey started, leaning forward and helping her to her feet as Anufi held her hand out for the silent request up.

Anufi stretched out a little, letting go of her hand before she straightened out her waistcloth. “<Nothing that can’t wait. I was wondering when you would come down.>”

Kìoetey relaxed a little. “<I should have come sooner. I… I was recently able to retrieve my sister’s ashes.>”

That certainly caught the Tsahìk’s attention, her eyes turning soft in understanding. “<You wish to return her to Eywa.>”

“<Yes, after twenty-two years, she deserves to rest with the Great Mother. Would you be able to assist?>”

Anufi eyed her for a moment in clear contemplation before she nodded. “<I can. Have you found a suitable container or shroud to wrap her in?>”

“<Both myself and Ri’nela are working on creating a shroud to wrap her ashes in.” They were still in the mists of creating the threads for it but did not have a design but they could sort that out quickly.

Anufi nodded approvingly. “<I can gather some herbs and once your sister’s shroud is complete and she’s wrapped inside, then we can return her to Eywa here.” She gestured down to the roots in front of her. “<For her return to Eywa from ashes, she will need a strong connection. The Circle of Ancestors will be suitable>”

“<We can try and get the shroud done by tomorrow.>”

“<No.>” Anufi shook her head, her soft voice sharpening a little. “<You do not rush a burial shroud for the sake of a quick funeral. You must put care and dignity into the fabric’s creation. It is an extension of your love and grief, not just their dress for their burial.>”

Kìoetey’s jaw snapped shut a little. She hadn’t considered that… she just wanted her sister to be buried. A little tactless, in hindsight. Anufi was right. “<Oh, of course.>”

Anufi gave her a soft look. “<Your sister will be returned to Eywa. There is no right or wrong way. Each clan has different means of catering to their dead but there must be respect given. Fortunately, I know the Sarentu’s way of the rite. Before they left the Kame’tire to the Circle of Songs, I aided the burial of one who passed from overexposure to txumtem venom. I can teach you.>”

Kìoetey’s eyes widened before she felt a swell of relief form in her heart. Aha’ri would get a Sarentu Burial. “<Thank you.>”

“<I would like Ri’nela to come down before then and meditate with me within Eywa. As she becomes Tsahìk, it will be her duty to tend to the dead but to listen to Eywa’s will.>”

“<I can talk to her. She does wish to learn from the Tsahìks teachings. You, Etuwa and Minang.>”

Anufi nodded approvingly. “<Then she had many pools of knowledge to draw from which I find important given your clan’s circumstances and… that does remind me of a concern, especially as Ri’nela is training to be Tsahìk for your people.>”

“<Oh?>” Kìoetey’s head tilted, her relief deflating a little but she had a fair idea of what it was. Of course, Anufi would see it and wish to address it too. “<Is it about her anger? So’lek’s spoken to her this morning to seek council from a Tsahìk.>”

Anufi nodded. “<He is a wise man. Yes, I have seen myself that Ri’nela has the potential to be a great Tsahìk but she will be hampered severely by allowing herself to be consumed by her ire like a Sky person. If the actions towards the Dreamwalker were any indication when she was last here.”

Kìoetey’s shoulder slumped a little. “<She had just learned of the truth of our people from Cortez. She has a right to take her distance to reconcile.>”

Anufi shook her head. “<I do not mean when Ri’nela was last here. I speak of when Almacortez was last here.>”

Kìoetey backpedalled a little in surprise. “<You’ve spoken to her? Did she come here?>” It… made sense actually why she went for the field lab; easier to go to from the Hollows at night. Still, it seemed odd she’d take the trip. Why leave the Resistance to just go to a neighbouring clan?

Anufi stared at her for a moment then nodded. “<She came during the celebrations to see me. She informed me of what you asked of her and asked for a place among our clan. Given she was Mokasa’s mouthpiece to the Sky people, I turned her request down and she went on her way to her metal home. I am aware she has since left. To where, I do not know.>”

The tone in her voice was… marginally remorseful but it was laced with a deep sense of… disappointment. It was even softly directed as well. Not in her people but… them. Her. Sarentu.

“<You disapprove of what we said?>”

Anufi nodded. “<I do not say this to shame you but what was asked of her was unnecessarily harsh. Pushing another away in anger will not resolve the emotion. She may have been able to help your clan move on.>”

Kìoetey’s head bowed a little. “<I’m sorry.>”

“<That apology is not for me, Sarentu.>” Anufi placed her hand on her chest. “<Now a woman wanders without a home and without a clan.>”

Kìoetey sucked in a deep breath. “<How can I make this right?>” She still has a chance to make things right and look for her. Even if Cortez did leave willingly, she believed a lot of bad things she didn’t refute and should have. If she couldn’t convince her to come back, an apology was deserved at the very least. They were by no means even but still, an apology had to be made.

Anufi took a shallow breath, turning her gaze up to the Greatcaps. “<I do not know. Not yet.>” Anufi admitted, “<Mokasa’s exile carries significantly more weight to my clan than hers to yours. I would not consider his return so soon. My people are still healing and must be a Tsahìk to them first.>”

Kìoetey said nothing, not quite meeting her stare.

“<As disappointed as I am with your people’s choices regarding the Dreamwalker, it will not change my view of your clan. Of you. You are young and reclaiming your people’s places among the clans. It is not an easy journey. You are learning.>”

Some relief but it didn’t feel all too brilliant either. She didn’t like disappointing Anufi… but it wasn’t that bad. Anufi had exiled Mokasa for a reason so why draw comparisons? Cortez walked away. It wasn’t like they had exiled Cortez.

 “<I’ll speak to Ri’nela now.>”

-

Alma sat cross-legged on the lab floor, her hands mostly caked in mud but her heart ached at the rusted box was still in one piece in front of her. It was where she had left it 30 years ago; buried under a tree, scored with a cross so it was far easier to find once she had found the traces of the dried-out stream.

The colour of the case was more or less gone and the rust had eaten most of its outside. She could feel as she had pulled it out the weakness the thirty years of burial had given its lid and sides was bent inwards, caved from the weight but not collapsed and sat innocently on a large leaf, the noon sun leaching any moister from the mud by the time she felt ready to face it. A tray for each.

Alma took a breath, trying to steady her heart as she used a spare tool to cut the latch and slowly forced the case out. A pungent smell made her gag before she released the lid, turning her away to breathe…

“You can do this…” Alma whispered to herself, “You put them in. You can take them out.”

She forced herself to turn back, her throat tightening at the mixture of soggy, decayed fabric nestling tiny little baby bones, and the dense brick of wet ashes within the plastic bag. Her hands shook as she retrieved the ashes first, settling it quickly onto the first tray and setting that into the sun before she used a small twig to help push through the dregs of rotten fabric.

Amanda’s bones were scattered inside, small tooth-sized vertebra, the tiny little femur bones… her skull in several fragments which wasn’t a surprise given newborn skulls weren’t fused to allow for easy passage out in birth. Not that she had been able to pass her out the traditional way. Big head for starters, transverse and tangled in the umbilical cord for second and third.

In her big blue hands, Amanda’s bones were so small. Smaller than expected. The… distortion of size was jarring. She had forgotten how small she had truly been. If she held the true Amanda as an infant in this body, she’d fit so easily in a single hand. So small and delicate.

So deserving of life.

Her fingers traced over the deformation of her little top jaw. Her cleft lip. Alma swallowed down the rise of grief, placing the last bones onto the tray and fished out the last item inside the box and discarded it away; someone else’s problem. The engagement ring was as expectedly filthy. Small and useless in this body but she got to her feet and hurried to the stream to clean herself down, her fingers rubbing the metal ring underneath the water until most of the grime was off. Her little finger was barely able to clean the inside but she got it good enough. Her hands washed over her feet as well before she trudged up the bank towards the field lab. She grabbed a spare rag, drying her hands and feet swiftly.

She didn’t want to get rid of the ring… but it was made of metal. Na’vi wouldn’t like it at all, as small as it was. She could disguise it. Wrap it with string and maybe make it into a bracelet of sorts. Anklet maybe?

Alma considered that option, setting the ring onto her late fiancé’s tray then picked both up and set them on the desk. She tripped the bag into the tray, turned on the heat lamp and shone it downwards; she needed them to be dry. No surprise the bag eventually leaked but if she wrapped wet ashes it’d soak the shroud. Possibly leak. She didn’t want that sort of mess.

With Amanda’s bones, Alma slowly took her time to wipe down her bones and set them carefully into the shroud. The shroud was done yesterday but she had added a simple embroidery of a plant and with Amanda’s name and date of birth since to personalise it this morning. With the reality of how small her bones were, the shroud was comparatively massive as she gently folded it around with delicacy and carefulness as she secured it with twine. She added the same Na’vi symbol that her own human remains had onto a piece of hide and tucked it in. She held it for a moment longer, stroking over the bundle sadly and then tucked it into her little coffin box beside her human remains.

Only Michael’s remains were left.

His shroud, she hadn’t taken off the loom, in part it wasn’t complete; she had yet to embroider it (and in all honestly, she had stabbed herself a lot in the fingers with Amanda’s one.)

Leyapay rose abruptly from the grass, stretching out before padding off towards the river. Alma watched her go before she picked up her needle; might as well start. She could be done by tomorrow and be on her way.

-

Kìoetey returned back to base with a weight in her gut and weaved through the few people and slipped into the airlock in search of Ri’nela. She found her shortly with both So’lek and Alex in deep discussion.

Alex looked both angry and confused. “What do you mean that Cortez left?” his voice echoed in mild disbelief, his hands on his hips.

So’lek didn’t look surprised at his response and answered swiftly. “Kìoetey found a note of her farewell. The station was emptied and the Dreamwalker has been absent for several days.”

“Why would she leave? Did Jason talk to her?” Alex fired swiftly, setting down his tools entirely and peeling off his gloves.. “Look, he told me he wanted her gone. Maybe he said something to get her to go?”

The warrior’s head tilted, “I do not know. I have not seen them cross paths but I was not about often. I was occupied a few times.”

“I have not seen them together either. Cortez spent most of her time inside on her own. She left once according to Priya to aid some structural testing outside with Jax given her height.” Ri’nela said, “Priya wouldn’t lie.”

Alex didn’t look convinced before he noticed her. “Kìoetey, please tell me you have some good news.” He almost begged.

“Yes, but not about Cortez.” Kìoetey admitted, “Sorry, Alex. Anufi said she appeared briefly at the party for refuge but was refused. She left for the lab and must have gone sometime after that.” She added to So’lek and Ri’nela. “She… didn’t approve of us wanting her to live at the labs it seems. She’s disappointed we’d push her away. She thinks she could have helped us heal.”

Ri’nela frowned softly. “That’s it?”

“In terms of Cortez, Yes. Anufi does wish for you to go down and listen to her teachings. She’ll help us with a Sarentu funeral for Aha’ri.” Kìoetey summarised.

“Did she say anything about where Cortez went… or planning to go?”

“No. I’ll do a sweep of the Clouded Forest later. She can’t have gone too far.”

Alex didn’t look convinced. “I don’t think she left so willingly. Why aren’t you concerned about that?”

“There’s no proof that she was forced away.” Kìoetey reasoned softly, “I’m sorry, but Anufi didn’t say anything like that. Not even Cortez mentions it in her letter. If she was forced away, she would have said so in some form or another.”

“Can I have the letter?” Alex said, almost demanding it. So’lek pulled it from his pouch and handed it over.

Alex opened it up eagerly and his eyes flickered over the text before he frowned. “It’s vague. It holds the implication.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Ri’nela answered. “You’re reading too much of what you want to.”

Alex’s jaw tightened. “Ri’nela, while I don’t agree with what Alma did at all, to you and to the resistance… it shouldn’t be left like this. It’s not fair.”

Ri’nela gave him a tired look. “I know but I’m too tired to expend myself onto her and where she’s gone. I need to focus on who is here now. Teylan and Kìoetey. I can’t even allow myself to worry about Nor, Alex. He has fewer survival skills than Cortez. At least she left prepared.” Ri’nela drew herself up. “I’m sorry. But this is where we will leave it. Look for her in your own time if you want but this is not a Resistance group project.”

Kìoetey sighed softly, reaching a supportive have to Alex’s shoulder but he turned and stormed away out of sight. “Alex…”

Ri’nela touched her elbow. “Please, let them go. We have more important things to do. I’ve got thread spun for Aha’ri’s shroud and I’ve got some designs I wish to talk with you about.”

Kìoetey turned her gaze towards Ri’nela with a ball of discontent in her stomach but… she could still look for her later. She knew it would help cool Alex’s nerves about this plus… he was right that this was the wrong way about it with Cortez.

Masterlist

[agaypanic]

can you do a james x reader where the girls forget your birthday but he comes around at night with cake and a present and ends up confessing his feelings and it’s just super cute 🥺 also I really love the fella series!!

Birthday Surprise (James Maguire X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: You thought your seventeenth birthday was going to be special, but your friends act like it’s just another day. Luckily, there’s always an English lad who knows how to make you feel special.

A/N: F/C means favorite color

***

You had woken up that morning with delight. You were finally 17. Although nothing really changed besides your age, you still skipped down the stairs with a pep in your step. You couldn’t wait to spend the day with your friends and celebrate.

You all had planned to meet at Erin’s house and go to the chip shop. The ban on you lot was lifted a while after the whole stealing and drapes on fire incident. James wasn’t entirely thrilled to go, but after some begging from you and light bullying from Michelle, he agreed to come.

It seemed you were the last to show up at the Quinns’ house, as the rest of your friends were huddled in the living room. You wondered what they could’ve been talking about, but they all broke away after hearing you walk in.

“Hey, girls!” You enthusiastically hugged each of them, leaving James last. “Hi, James.” You noticed that James was the only one to return the affection with the same energy. Everyone else seemed confused by the action.

“What are you so happy about?” Michelle asked. You let go of James and turned around to face them.

“What do you mean? I thought we were celebrating today.” The girls laughed as you all exited the house.

“We’re going to the chippy, Y/n. Yeah, it’s great that Fionnula lifted the ban, but there’s nothing to get that excited about.”

“Let her be excited, Michelle.” Erin playfully hit the girl’s shoulder, glancing back at you. “She loves their chicken sandwiches. It’s like the only thing she gets there.”

As the group walked on, you started to slow down, trailing behind. James, looking back to see you a bit behind, slowed his pace so he could walk next to you.

“You okay?” He asked, trying not to draw attention from the others.

“Yeah.” You answered quickly. “Just looking forward to that chicken sandwich, you know?” He nodded but didn’t seem convinced by your answer. But you didn’t focus on that. You had bigger things to think about.

Your friends had forgotten your birthday.

***

It was safe to say that you were in a bit of a sour mood by the time you had made it to the shop. Everyone lined up to give their orders, you and James in the back of the line. When you became second in line, James leaned down to you.

“What would you like?”

“Huh?” You looked at him, confused.

“What did you want to get?” He asked as if it was simple. It was. You just weren’t expecting it. You two hadn’t really talked much since you made your way down the hill.

“Same as always, chicken sandwich with chips, heavy salt. Might get extra chips. I’m a bit hungrier than usual.” James nodded as Clare paid and walked toward the group. You and James walked up to the counter as Fionnula grabbed her notepad.

“What do you want?” She asked, somewhat aggressively. You went to speak, but James beat you to it.

“Chicken sandwich and extra chips with heavy salt, please, Fionnula.” James smiled as she wrote down the order.

“Anything else?”

“Nope.”

“Five pounds.” You reached into your pocket to pull out the money, but James had beaten you to the punch once again. He gave the money to Fionnula, who took it and walked towards the back with her notepad.

“Twenty minutes!” She yelled, and you and James went to the group.

“Here.” You held the money in your pocket out for James to take. Now it was his turn to be confused.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Paying you back.” You said as if it was obvious. Which it was. He laughed.

“Don’t be silly, Y/n. It’s my treat.”

“Why?” You asked. He couldn’t have remembered what today was; he didn’t say anything about it. So why else would he pay for you?

“Just felt like it.” He squeezed your shoulder with a smile.

“Oh. Well, thank you, James.” You put the money back in your pocket, returning the smile. Strange how such a small gesture could change your mood that swiftly.

“Trying to get in Y/n’s pants, James? Paying for her food isn’t gonna do that.” Michelle snickered.

And just like that, your mood was dampened again.

“Shut up, Michelle.” James rolled his eyes.

***

The day was over. You enjoyed your sandwich and chips, but that seemed to be the only thing you enjoyed. It felt like any other day with the girls and James.

And that was the problem. It’s not like you were expecting them to kiss the ground you walked on for the day; just a simple ‘Happy Birthday!’ would have sufficed. But instead, you got nothing but the same thing you got every day.

“How could they all forget my birthday?” You huffed, burying your face into your pillow. “I’d never do that to them.” 

You were so busy throwing yourself a pity party that you didn’t hear the knock on your bedroom window. It was quick and timid. But the second time, it was much louder. You gasped in fright as you looked at the window.

“James?” You pushed yourself off the bed and opened the window. “What are you doing here?”

James stood in your yard in front of your window, giving you a shy smile. He was wearing joggers and a sweater, like he had suddenly decided to roll out of bed and visit.

“Can I come in?” He asked. You hesitantly nodded and moved away from the window so he could climb in. He seemed to struggle a bit, holding something behind his back.

“You’re lucky my house is one floor, Maguire.” You remarked, closing the window and sitting on your bed. You patted the spot next to you, and he sat down as well, hand still behind his back.

“Listen, I know it’s late. But I realized, when we were out, that I forgot to bring your gift. And I didn’t want to bring it up because the girls seemed to have forgotten, which you didn’t deserve, by the way, so I thought I’d bring your present now.” He finally showed what he was hiding. A small wrapped box, and on top of the box was a cupcake with a single candle in it. He grinned at you.

“Happy birthday, Y/n.”

You were speechless. You had thought that everyone had forgotten. But James had remembered.

James took out of lighter and lit the candle, handing the cupcake to you.

“I know you probably had cake or something already. But I saw it at that bakery you like, and I thought you’d like it.”

“I love it, James.”

“Make a wish.”

Let him stay longer, you wished. I don’t want him to leave. Not yet. You blew out the tiny flame, and he clapped while you took out the candle to break the cupcake in half. You gave half to James, which he accepted gratefully. 

After you both finished the small dessert, James grabbed the small box.

“Open your present.”

“James, you didn’t have to get me anything.” You took it anyways.

“Yeah, but I wanted to. So open it.” He urged. You unwrapped the paper and opened the box. Inside was a beautiful necklace with your initial and a small F/C gem.

“James-”

“I saw you looking at it a lot when we all went out the other day. So when you girls went to find a place to eat, I went back to that shop and got it.” 

“Thank you so much, James.” As you tried to clip the necklace on, all you could do was wonder how you got so lucky to get James as a friend.

“Here, let me help.” He reached around and took the ends of the necklace from you. He had gotten closer to you while clasping the chain, but you didn’t say anything until he moved away.

“It’s so beautiful, James.” You whispered as you fiddled with the initial. “God, You’re so sweet. I could kiss you right now.”

“You can if you want.” He said quickly. You looked up, shocked at the response, and he seemed to have the same expression. But he didn’t take it back.

“Really?” You asked quietly. He just nodded, allowing you to make the next move.

What the hell, you thought, you only live once. 

You brought a hand to his cheek and started to lean in. James threaded a hand through your hair at the back of your head and closed the gap. Although you’d only kissed a few people in your life, mainly from truth or dare or spin the bottle, this was by far the best kiss you’ve had. And you hoped to whoever was out there that it wouldn’t be the last you’d get from James Maguire.

“That’s one way to make a birthday memorable.” You whispered as you pulled apart. You both smiled fondly at each other.

“I really like you, Y/n,” James said. “In case it wasn’t obvious.” You laughed, giving him a small peck on the lips.

“I really like you too, James. A lot.”

A few minutes passed, and the two of you were now lying on your bed, both on your sides facing each other.

“Wanna stay the night?” You asked. “My parents are leaving early for a business trip, so they won’t notice.”

“I’d love to.” The smile on your face was very noticeable, even after turning off the lights.

“This is definitely my best birthday.” You said as you laid your head on James’ chest. He brought an arm around you and skimmed his fingers over you.

“I’m glad I could help.” James kissed the top of your head, and you both slowly drifted off into sleep. 

In the morning, you would get frantic calls from the girls who had realized that they had forgotten your birthday. And Michelle would ask you if you knew where her cousin was. But for now, being with James was all that you cared about.

[primofate]

im feeling kinda akward since its my first time requesting,i really really really like your writings and im wondering if you could do some angst for albedo, anything you feel like tbh, but if may i be a little selfish i was thinking on something like he hurt you, so you break up with him or maybe he break up with you and regret later, im in love with the genius and your writings so why not lol, hope you are doing well, xoxoxooxox

Thanks for the request anon. <3 Sorry it took so long, but I’m feeling angst today so here goes. Let me know what you think <3

QUEUED POST

Scenario: Breaking up

Characters: gn! reader x Albedo

Warnings: angst, break ups, regrets, did I say angst?

Categories: angst in Part 1, comfort in Part 2 (It was getting too long so split it into two parts)

Read: (Part 2) (Part 3 - Final)

Albedo

Alone.

These days you found yourself alone in your shared home. It had been nearly a year since the two of you decided to live together. Maybe that was a bad idea.

You were smitten. He was such an intelligent man, and truth be told you loved how his mind worked. He was silent and mostly kept to himself at first, but with you, there were subtle touches, fleeting kisses. Oh and his eyes, the way his eyes brightened or the way his lips turned up at the sight of you. The way he held you close at nights, up until the morning.

Gone were those days. 

He was hardly home. The intelligent man you had fallen in love with, was also a workaholic. Perhaps you should’ve seen it coming. There were so many signs.

Maybe he changed. Maybe you changed. But the little things weren’t enough anymore. He came home just to sleep and wake up, and he was off again. 

“Bedo, have you got some time off on the weekend? We haven’t been up to Starsnatch Cliff in a while,” you had prodded him a few days ago, wondering if the problem would be solved if you made the first move. 

“Sorry, Y/N, we’re just about to discover more about the properties of electro crystals... It’ll be useful if we want to sustain higher energy concentrations on...” and just like that he had gone off a tangent explaining the whole thing. You smiled a little, it was still endearing how excited he got discussing those things. 

But you couldn’t help but be lonely at how he seemed to love his research more than you. 

‘Maybe I just need to be more proactive. That’s it! I’ll go and visit him at the lab today!’ Surprising him was one of the things that you had always wanted to do. But not a lot of things got past Albedo. He was observant like that. You made a quick run to the bakery, getting him some croissants and welcomed yourself into the Favonius Headquarters. 

You looked up at the sign on his laboratory door. That sign was always there though, Klee had told you about it, and Sucrose had also talked about it once or twice before, telling you that it wouldn’t be a good idea to go in if the sign was up. But when was it ever down? So, you shrugged, and pushed the door open with a wide smile.

“What are you doing here?!” There’s a wild look in Albedo’s eyes the moment you step in. He didn’t appreciate being disturbed. You tilted your head a little at his reaction, you weren’t expecting that.

“Oh, since you’ve been so busy these days I just thought I’d drop by and give you something to--”

“Y/N, did you not see the sign on the door? No disturbances, even from you,”

“I’ll just be quick, I’m just dropping this off,” you lift the paper bag from the bakery and lay it down on the nearest table. Albedo closes his eyes with a sigh. 

“...We’re working on something dangerous right now, I don’t have time to eat. Please take it back,”

Surprisingly, you obey quite quickly, and take the paper bag back into your hands. Annoyance start to pulse in your veins. “Anything else you want me to do? Maybe disappear so I don’t bother you or your research so much?”

Sucrose had been standing there the whole time, and you can see the slight wince on her face at your cold statement... But Albedo had returned it ten fold, snapping an answer back. “Yes, Y/N, that would be excellent, don’t get in the way. Stop being irritating at the wrong moment,”

You didn’t expect how much it would sting. Your shoulders slump downwards at the realization that this... had gone too far. You couldn’t take it anymore. Sucrose opens her mouth, but doesn’t know what to say looking back and forth between you and Albedo. 

The Kreideprinz had continued with his task as if nothing had happened at all, but he knew what he said. He didn’t want any interferences nor accidents happening in the lab and that was the only thing he cared about at the moment. 

Your foot moves to step back, but your eyes are glued to Albedo. You can only see his back. His hair tied up neatly, the shoulders that you loved to wrap your arms around and his hands that were always gentle. You took a good look, drinking the whole scene in like you hadn’t had a drop of water in days. 

This was the last time you would lay eyes on him and it broke you into so many pieces. You turned away without another word, Sucrose staring at the door, before she decided that she needed to follow you. “I-I’ll be back, Master Albedo,” she rarely ever abandoned an experiment, but she knew that you needed a friend right now. 

Ironic, because it should have been Albedo running after you, but instead the green-haired girl caught up to you just as you reached the fountain in the middle of Mondstadt. “Y/N!” she jogs, and stops when you do as you hear your name.

Tears prickled your cheeks, but they were more of frustration than sadness. You stand there for a moment, drying your tears and turning around towards Sucrose, gaze on the pavement. “Y/N...” Sucrose approaches carefully, hand resting on your shoulder.

“...I don’t know anything other than Albedo, Sucrose,” you start, a curtain of memories flashing through your mind. “...Without him, there isn’t much reason for me to stay in Mondstadt,” Sucrose shakes her head rather hastily. “H-He’s just... a little occupied right now, Y/N, I’m sure he doesn’t mean what he said,” You close your eyes, the scene repeating in your head.

“Anything else you want me to do? Maybe disappear so I don’t bother you or your research so much?”

“Yes, Y/N, that would be excellent, don’t get in the way. Stop being irritating at the wrong moment,”

A hard lump forms on your throat at how hard you try not to sob. How hard you try to keep yourself together and Sucrose sees it from the way your lips tremble. “Sucrose, please watch over him,” and that is also the last that Sucrose sees of you. 

That night, Albedo arrives home exhausted, just as he always does. But now that he was home, he could at least expect a warm meal and a warm hug. A soft smile tugs on his lips at the thought.

When he turned the lights on, he was met with a strange stillness instead. His hand stays on the switch as his eyes scan the living room. It was...quiet. There were no plates on the table, and there were no sounds from the kitchen.

Deep in the pits of his stomach there’s an anxiety that starts bubbling up. He brushes it off, opting instead to check the kitchen. “Y/N?”

Empty. 

His footsteps hasten as he opens the bedroom door, expecting you to be curled up there, asleep. 

Empty.

Albedo takes in a shaky breath. You were probably just out in town, doing some late night shopping. Yeah, that’s it, perhaps you just didn’t have enough ingredients for dinner today and--his eyes land on the bedside table.

The photo frame is gone. The photo of the two of you standing side by side together with comfortable smiles on your faces, his hand on your waist, and the house on the background. 

He throws open the closet doors. Your clothes are gone. Your shoes are gone. Even your scent seemed to have disappeared. The anxiety that was once a small bubble in his stomach had started to claw it’s way out, wrenching his heart in places that he didn’t know could hurt. The tears pooling in his eyes were so foreign that he didn’t even know what was happening until he hears himself gasp back a sob.

You’re gone. 

Suddenly it was so hard to breathe, but he pulls himself up and out the door. There’s no way. Where would you go? Perhaps you were just around Mondstadt, trying to get a breath of fresh air to calm your nerves. He searches everywhere. The church, the tavern, the Good Hunter and even atop the rooftop of the Favonius Headquarters. There was a decent view of the city there, and his eyes roam the streets, just to get a glimpse of you.

“...Please...” There’s another lump in his throat, his eyes dart around looking for any small sign of you. 

“Albedo? Tired?” you ask as he returns home one day. He merely lets out a small “Mm,” and pulls a chair out from the dining table to sit on. You walk into the kitchen to fetch him a cup of tea, and he snatches your hand to press a soft kiss on the back of it. “Thank you, love,” 

“...Please!” his grip on the stone walls of the rooftop tighten. His vision blurs.

“Al! Don’t do that!” you try to swat his hand away from the pot, a short laugh coming off of your lips at how mischievous he could be sometimes, trying to dip his finger into the sauce. He has a grin on his face as he successfully tastes the sauce off his finger, making a sound of approval as he draws you in for a light kiss on your forehead, “It’s good, as always,” 

His legs buckle, and he finds himself on his knees, hands fisted upon the cold stone wall. “At least tell me where you've gone! I can’t--” he doesn’t know when the last time he cried was, but whenever it was, he doesn’t remember it to be this bad. The pain was unlike any injury he had, it grasped so tightly at his heart.

“Anything else you want me to do? Maybe disappear so I don’t bother you or your research so much?”

“Yes, Y/N, that would be excellent, don’t get in the way. Stop being irritating at the wrong moment,”

He furiously shakes his head because he knows that it was his fault. “I didn’t mean it, please give them back,” as if there was someone else who took you away. As if there was a God listening to him right now. 

He realizes that the worst of it was not that you had left, but that you had left no traces of you behind. No photo. Not a piece of clothing. Not a trace of your existence.

Nothing for him to hold on to.

That night, he dragged himself back home. Face flushed and hot from the tears he had shed and the ones he was attempting to hold back.

That night, he painfully got into bed.

Alone.

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[matthewtkachuk]

if it's not you - kevin hayes

When a promotion at work calls for you to transfer back to Philadelphia, your ex-fiancé offers you the guest room of the home you used to share. What could possibly go wrong?

pairing: kevin hayes x reader

warnings: angst angst angst, relationship breakdown, talk of marriage and babies, low key plus size reader (and mention of exercise as an unhealthy coping mechanism), travis konecny sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, the over romanticization of spaghetti bolognese, smut

word count: 11k

a/n: here's the first half of a fic i've been working on for months, sorry not sorry for what i've done. in loving memory of my dearest k @danglesnipecelly who wanted either roommate kevin or ex kevin and instead i murdered her with both

Everyone you knew said it was a terrible idea.

Your mom, your best friends, the coworkers you were leaving behind, even Jimmy and Brady said it was a terrible idea. Jimmy and Brady, who share a single brain cell.

Deep down you recognize for yourself just how bad of an idea it was, but that knowledge was locked deep down beside the residual hurt and the love that you pretended had died long ago.

Maybe you were a masochist, deriving a sick sense of pleasure from torturing yourself like this. Or maybe you were just fucking stupid, naive and ignorant, unable to conceptualize all the ways things could go wrong.

Or maybe you just really missed him.

No matter the reasoning, and no matter how many people in your life tried to convince you otherwise, you were transferring to your company’s Philadelphia office, and the spare bedroom you were moving into was in the house you’d once lived in with your ex fiancé.

-

It was nothing, really, you tried to convince yourself. Just Kev being Kev, lonely what with his buddy and roommate Nolan shipped off to Vegas, and it’s not like you would find a place with cheaper rent than “free, as long as you promise to make dinner now and then.”

You can’t really explain why you reached out in the first place, with only a handful of conversations occurring in the months since you called off your engagement. Part of it was the excitement of it all, you’d gotten so caught up in it all that the second you left your boss’ office your thumb was hovering over his contact in your phone. That hadn’t been the moment you’d called him, though.

No, you’d celebrated the way you’d been forced to grow accustomed to without Kevin in your life - a drink with a few select coworkers and a phone call to your mom.

Maybe some part of you thought you owed it to him, to give him a heads up that you were returning to his city once again, a warning of sorts. Maybe you expected hesitance in his tone, a lack of warmth in his reply.

Kevin’s never really been that predictable though, and his response is nothing short of pure excitement. It’s here that he suggests you move in, at least temporarily, much to your surprise. You tell him you’ll think about it because it’s a big decision, but you’re certain you’ll tell him ‘thanks for the offer, but I have to decline.’

Certain, that is, until he ends the call uncharacteristically soft, nothing but sincerity on the tip of his tongue as he speaks, “I’m really proud of you, you know.”

You call him back the next morning and tell him you’ll do it.

-

Philly’s got an edge to it that you’ve felt drawn to since the first time you set foot in the city. You were sixteen, at some pop punk concert at the Mann your best friend had convinced you to sneak out of the house for. There was something in the air then, and for a moment, in the midst of a high energy show, with everyone around you screaming in unison, you’d felt it. A draw and a pull and a sense of belonging that you didn’t feel again in your hometown.

Not until you were a freshman at Boston College, stumbling into a cute guy with a loud laugh and a thick accent at a house party after a big hockey win.

You feel it again, pulling into the driveway of a very expensive house in a very rich neighborhood of Philly. Your house. Or at least it was, once. You remember the excitement of flying down to Philly twice, touring a dozen different houses before settling on this one. It was the bright and open kitchen that had stolen your heart the minute you’d stepped foot in it. He’d asked his teammates' opinions, but you know that even if they hadn’t all mostly agreed, he would have bought this one for you.

There was a time when Kevin would have done anything for you, if you only asked.

Your SUV is full to the brim with your clothes and the few personal effects you had kept - the majority of your things had been sold or donated when you’d committed to the transfer. It’s weird, to be parking this car in this driveway, as if you’d never taken Kevin’s grandmother’s ring off your finger, as if you’d later slipped on the wedding band to match.

Your ring finger is as bare as it has been for more than a year, though, as you flex your fingers against the steering wheel, willing yourself to move on from your thoughts. They’re not productive, they only serve to further break your own heart. You can’t let it go, though. Not here, not in front of this house. No, you need to sit in it for a moment, collect yourself, take it all in and let yourself wallow in it before you face what was once your dream home.

Kevin comes outside as you’re pulling bags from the trunk, wrapping you up in a hug that feels too real, too genuine, too meaningful. You lean into it against your better judgement, squeezing your arms around him tightly, as if you could put both of your broken pieces back together with a single hug. You have to stop yourself from telling him you missed him, certain he doesn’t want to hear about how you’ve been wallowing your way through life without him.

He has to stop himself from welcoming you home.

“You don’t have to help,” you tell him as he starts grabbing some of your bags. The look he sends you tells it all and you shrug sheepishly, “Thanks.”

With your former fiance’s help, your things are taken inside in only a few trips despite your attempts to prolong the feat. Without the distraction of hauling your things in and then scurrying back to your car, you’re forced to look around at what had once been your home. You’re not surprised to see not much has changed. Between the interior designer he’d hired and your own input, Kev had remarkably little to do with the design of the house.

As you shift side to side on your feet, feeling incredibly awkward and out of place, you spot a frame on the mantle, nestled in beside photos of his siblings and parents and nieces and nephews. The frame blends in perfectly, the exact same metal as the others around it, but you really didn’t think the subject belonged anymore.

Because the photograph contains your and Kevin’s smiling faces, his arms wrapped around your shoulders with your hands settled on his forearms, the sparkling ring glinting on your ring finger, with a beautiful sun setting over Cape Cod.

“It was my favorite,” he says simply and something inside of you breaks. It all kind of hits you then, not for the first time certainly, but it hits you all the same. That photo shouldn’t be the only one that contained you in this living room; there should be beautiful pictures of a wedding day, of you in white and Kevin in his best suit. Of his nieces and nephews in flower girl dresses and little ring bearer suits. Of a little baby boy or girl of your own.

It’s too much and you can’t keep the facade up any longer.

“I’m gonna go start putting things away,” you lie, quickly turning and rushing past him before he can see the telltale look of despair on your face.

“Do you want me to order take out tonight? I can get from that Italian place you like.” It’s an olive branch and a peace offering and an honest to goodness suggestion all rolled into one and you know you shouldn’t be acting like this. You know that if you couldn’t handle it, can’t handle it, you shouldn’t be here at all.

And so you pause in the doorway, still unable to look back at him. “Sure Kev, you know what I like.” It slips out, the easy casualness of it all because it’s how you used to answer when he’d posit the question of what you wanted from whatever restaurant you were ordering from. It was a comfort, really, that he knew you so well he didn’t have to think twice about getting you something you’d enjoy.

It makes the moment feel even heavier than it needs to, even heavier than it had a moment ago when you’d spotted that old familiar photo on the mantel. You don’t know how to take it back, though, don’t know how to explain that you didn’t mean it that way. The silence stretches between the two of you awkwardly in ways it hadn’t ever really in the entirety of your relationship. Even when things were falling apart it hadn’t ever really felt like this.

Like you were two strangers and not people with a long and drawn out history.

You won’t look at him, but he can’t stop the way his eyes track your every move, your words rattling around in his brain. Did he know what you liked? Or did you change your favorite pasta dish like you’d changed the address on your driver's license? Was it still penne alla vodka or did you prefer alfredo now? Did you still take sugar and cream in your coffee or had you kicked the caffeine habit entirely?

For a long time he’d thought about what it would be like for you to step foot back in this house, your presence filling the empty rooms in a way no one had been able to since you’d left. He’d tried, letting Patty move in, and then the girls who’d treated his front door like it was revolving rather than made of wood.

With the door to the spare bedroom clicking behind you softly, you toss yourself onto the unmade bed and cry. You cry for the past, you cry for the present, but most of all you cry for the future that you’d both robbed yourselves of.

When he knocks later to let you know the food has arrived - as if you hadn’t heard the doorbell and the subsequent booming nature of his voice - you’ve stopped crying but your face feels puffy. Kevin has the good sense to not mention it as you move with practiced ease around each other. The silverware is in the same spot it always has been, and so are the glasses. Even the Brita water filter is in the same spot in the refrigerator and it all makes your heart ache more.

Not for the first time, as you sit across from the man you thought you would get to love forever, you wonder what the fuck you’re doing here.

Kevin notices. Of course he fucking notices, what with the way he can’t tear his eyes off of you and the way he used to know you better than the back of his hand. He knew what you looked like first thing in the morning and he knew what you looked like with happy tears streaming down your face the night he’d proposed and he knew what you looked like with your bags packed, shutting the door behind you for the last time.

He notices but he doesn’t do anything because it’s not his place. It’s not his job to anticipate your feelings when you aren’t capable of verbalizing them or to reassure you that your fears are unfounded. Not anymore and it hasn’t been for a long time. He hates that it’s no longer his job or his place and he hates that you’re both in this position and more than anything he hates that you left him and this is what it’s all come to. You home but not really home, only here because of the very job that had torn you apart to begin with.

His heart is heavy and yours is too as you stare at each other from across the too large dining table, both wondering if you were making a mistake as large as the one you’d made when you’d let each other go.

-

Really, living with Kevin in a totally platonic, non-romantic way is both harder and easier than you thought.

It’s harder because you had grossly underestimated how badly being near him would make you want him. You should have known the dull ache in not being his anything anymore would only grow and multiply when the temptation to touch him increased with every interaction. Once a throbbing pain you could ignore by throwing yourself into the job you had chosen over him, now it was constant, unyielding and unforgiving - sharp reminders of what choosing yourself had cost you.

In some ways, it’s so similar to before, the feelings still bubbling under the surface but never boiling over. In the early days after your breakup you’d wondered if you would love him forever despite it all. In a cold and bare apartment in the middle of New York City you knew you would, heart aching and face tear stained. You’re reminded of the hurt in those moments as the weeks pass. Truthfully you don’t remember how to be his friend. For the majority of your adult life he’d been your best friend, sure, but he’d been your best friend in the way only a romantic partner can be.

And yet it’s not the same because in those quiet moments where once you would have leaned into the comfort of his embrace, you find yourself violently ripping away. Because even though your brain is well aware of all the hurt and the need for things like boundaries and space, your body is several steps and many years behind.

It feels wrong to see him soft and warm in the morning light of the kitchen without slipping in behind him and wrapping your arms around his body, your body nearly giving into the urge of its own accord before you can shake the feeling off and head for the coffee pot instead. It’s downright torture to walk past the back of the couch without slipping a hand into his hair and pressing your lips to his cheek.

The feeling is mutual, even if you don’t know it, as he has to resist the urge to press his body against yours while you reach on your tip toes for something in the cupboard or stand at the sink, washing dishes.

It’s easier in that you breathe a little easier in his presence, sleep a little better too. Being around him is as natural as breathing, probably too natural if you were honest with yourself. You catch yourself leaning in a little too much to his innocent touches, slipping up and almost telling him you love him when you say goodnight or he leaves for a string of away games, nearly curling up against his side when he puts a movie on in the living room.

Although sometimes sleep doesn’t come that easy. Not when you spend half the night tossing and turning, micro analyzing every interaction with the man asleep only feet away from you. From the smallest touches to the accidental slip ups that have you stuttering out an apology neither of you are sure you mean, you go through every second of it and wonder how you could have done things differently. On nights like this the guilt threatens to eat you up from the inside out. You run through hundreds of scenarios in your head, from the sweetest reunions to the harshest endings, ones where you sever the ties so completely you can never come back from it.

These nights are the worst when you have to haul your ass out of bed early in the morning to get to the office for eight.

Several months into calling what used to be your spare room home, luckily for you, isn’t one of those nights, but it doesn’t mean the exhaustion seeping into your bones is lessened any as the clock reads several minutes past two a.m. You toss onto your left side, then your right, then on your back, huffing and puffing with the energy of each turn. The pillow is fluffed and turned to the cold side multiple times as the minutes pass and pass. You count sheep, recite the alphabet backwards and forwards, even put on ambient music and then a sleep podcast.

Nothing helps, and you grow more and more exhausted. Until your sleep addled brain decides the best course of action is to slip into the bed that used to be yours.

The house is quiet and dark as you sneak down the hallway, feet cold and silent against the hardwood floor that you’d hated when you’d first moved in. “I like carpet,” you’d grumbled. Kev had only laughed, pressing his lips to yours and promising you that he’d buy you all the area rugs you could possibly want.

Kev doesn’t say anything now as you slip into the master bedroom, not until you’re pausing a few steps away from the bed with so many memories attached to it. Of you moaning and writhing beneath the sheets, of midnight kisses when he got back from a game at home, of lazy Sundays and breakfast in bed - even if the toast had been burnt and the coffee cold.

The comforter is different, but you should have expected that. There’s less pillows, but you should have expected that too. You were the pillow monster after all, adamant that you needed more than the customary two.

He wakes with a fright, and you’re reminded of when he made you sleep with the lights on after watching the first Paranormal Activity in theaters. “I don’t care how much I love you, if you were ever just standing at the foot of the bed watching me sleep I’d kick you in the face.”

“S’wrong?” he slurs, voice heavy with sleep the way you remember it being in the morning, warm and soft, gooey like honey.

You feel so foolish then, you had no business waltzing into this bedroom. What were you expecting, really? It wasn’t his job to make sure you had a good night’s rest. Not that he had when you were dating, more often keeping you up late into the early hours of the morning with his head between your thighs.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admit, before shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come in here. I-” You move to leave the room and pretend you’d never opened that door, but his large hand comes up to encircle your wrist.

“C’mere,” he says, using that grip to pull you in closer. You go willingly, slipping into bed beside him and letting him pull you into his chest. You fall asleep seconds after closing your eyes, drifting even closer in your slumber.

You wake up first, comfortable and warm and secure, but you sneak out before he even has a chance to wake.

He thinks he dreamt the whole thing.

-

Though your relationship with Kevin had been born out of a chance encounter at a house party, it had really developed around food. Your early dates had been dinners after hockey games, you in his jersey and he always wearing a backwards BC hat, legs linked under the table. Sometimes his teammates wouldn’t pick up on his very obvious social cues that it wasn’t an open invitation, and you’d have to squish between Kev and Johnny on one side of a faded booth.

Later, the venue became the kitchen. That’s not to say the two of you didn’t enjoy a nice night out together, or didn’t indulge in more than your fair share of take out, because you certainly did.

It’s just, you’d grown up with your parents cooking together in the kitchen, witnessed many sweet moments of adoration and love - even if things weren’t always perfect with their marriage, they never missed cooking Sunday dinner together. It was one of the things you were most grateful for in your childhood, and something you’d always vowed to make part of your future relationships.

Of course with his hockey career, Sunday wasn’t always feasible, and neither was a strict once a week schedule, but you’d always leaned into the moments you could.

Kevin wasn’t ever really the best cook, absolutely spoiled by his mom’s skills in the kitchen and then the dining plan at BC and then you’d taken it upon yourself to make sure he was always well fed. What he lacked in skill though he absolutely made up for in enthusiasm and willingness to be bossed around by you.

“I like when you tell me what to do,” he’d smirked at you once during the first years in New York together, dutifully cutting vegetables for your casserole.

And then you’d fallen in love with this very kitchen, with its marble detailing and offwhite cabinetry and gold handles. The built in butcher block and the sink in the island, the stainless steel, french-door refrigerator and matching stove. Enough space for you and Kevin to cook together in harmony while your own children could look on in awe at how much their parents loved each other.

You’d envisioned all those moments here in that kitchen and then you’d watched them disappear like smoke.

Now you were half a year into living with Kevin, still dancing around the feelings you never let go of, picturing some other woman cooking with him at the kitchen island, their children watching them the way you always thought yours would.

-

It was an accident, you repeat to yourself over and over again. That mantra on a loop as you sit on your bed in Kevin’s guest room, trying and failing to keep your breathing even. The problem is you can still taste his lips on your tongue, can feel his stubble beneath your hand and the ghost of his touch on your hips.

It was an accident, the way his hands found the skin just above your jeans as he attempted to move past you in the kitchen. The way your body lit up under his touch, the way you leaned into it all. Muscle memory, really, as your lips met his right around the time your hands slid up his shoulders to cup his face.

It was an accident, how you stepped even closer, pressing the entire length of your body against his. The growl deep in his chest as he held you tightly to him. The slip of his tongue inside your mouth, the scrape of your teeth against his lips.

And then nothing, as you’d stepped back in a panic with eyes wide and chest heaving.

You’d turned and ran back to the sanctity of this bedroom, your untouched plate of food entirely forgotten.

The sound of the front door is not easily mistaken, and soon you realize you’re all alone in the house. Suddenly there’s only one person you want to hear from.

Grabbing your phone, you slump to the ground with your back against the closet door, knees pulled to your chest while you hear the familiar sound of the dial tone.

“Hello?”

You sigh, the familiar voice of one of your oldest friends like music to your ears. “Jimmy?”

The background noise fades as you can only assume he’s separated himself from whoever he was with. He says your name softly, an edge of confusion laced within it, “Are you okay?”

You sigh again. The truth is, you’re not even sure if you’re okay or not. Being near Kevin is as good for your soul as it is harmful to your heart. Unadulterated pleasure at being witness to his bedhead in the morning once again, sweatpants hung low on his hips as he leaves the bedroom you’d once shared, yet the sharpest pain as you try to exist together in this house, yet so, so apart. Every day you break your heart, yet every day you heal a bit of it too.

“I’m not going to say I told you so,” he says minutes later after you’ve gotten everything you needed to say off your chest.

You groan a little, Jimmy’s always been a bit of a know-it-all. “Stupid Harvard,” you grumble under your breath. He laughs, not at all offended and very used to the chirps.

“You know I love you, but...”

“But you told me so,” you sigh again. “I don’t know what to do Jimmy.”

“Talk to him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Truthfully, there’s a long list of worst case scenarios, and you’ve already run them in your head a hundred times.

Kevin doesn’t come home until darkness has descended on Philly. In the meantime you’ve had two mental breakdowns and ten imaginary arguments with him in your head. You’ve written down every important point you want to say four times, the four pieces of paper crumpled in the garbage can more than enough proof of that.

You’re sitting on the couch when he comes in, your entire body freezing as you brace for a fight. It never comes, though. Kevin acts like nothing’s wrong, like he didn't have his tongue down your throat only a few hours ago. He’s picture perfect normal, asking you if you want to order take out tonight or if you’d already taken something out for supper. You stumble through your responses but he never breaks.

It hurts more than you thought it would, certainly far more than it would have if he had yelled and screamed the minute he walked through the door. He even sits down on the other end of the couch, arm outstretched and entire body looking so welcoming, so enticing. As if you could just curl up against him like you used to do so many nights before.

You don’t, though. You stay scrunched up on your little corner of the couch, body rigid and face emotionless until you give in and go to bed alone, with far more questions than answers.

-

Right when things started going wrong, you’d taken up running. Truthfully it was more of a brisk walk interspersed with moments of sprinting that usually left you out of breath and cursing yourself for not being more in shape. It had been silly, a way for you to attempt to fit into the mold of the stereotypical WAG. Part of you thought if you were just able to get in shape, shed a few pounds, that you would be able to save your relationship.

It’s stupid, now that you look back on it, but you’d been so convinced that your size was going to be the downfall of your relationship. If you could only push past your hurt and your ego, you’d realize it was a breakdown in communication above anything else.

Regardless, you’d kept up with it, slowly turning into more of a runner and less of a walker. It hadn’t done much for slimming you down, but you felt healthier, didn’t feel like your heart was going to burst out of your chest or like you’d never pull enough air into your lungs ever again after a short jaunt.

You find yourself running again, a strange sense of nostalgia and heartbreak washing over you as you make the same old, familiar trail around the neighborhood. More houses have come up, some have come down, new cars and new families all around reminding you that while your world may have ended in the brick house four blocks away, it had continued to spin for everyone else.

When you return, Kevin’s just leaving for practice. The air is thick with tension and awkward energy as you carefully dance around one another. The desire to shower is so strong, but as he steps into his shoes you can’t help but blurt out, “Are we not going to talk about it?”

He looks alarmed, face frozen in the expression it had been before you spoke, but his eyes told the wildest tale all on their own. You’re sure your eyes match his own - wild, crazy, disbelieving. Where he had been unable to believe you’d just asked that, you’d been just as bewildered that the words had actually left your mouth.

“What?” he says stupidly.

You gulp and run a hand over your forehead, before repeating yourself. “Are we really not going to talk about it?”

His jaw clicks as he ponders your words, eyes sliding to the box under the television that reads the time. “I’m sorry, I-” he pauses, words perched at the very tip of his tongue, “I have to get to practice.”

“Right,” you nod slowly, “Well have fun with that.” You turn on your heel and head in the direction of the guest bathroom, determined to wash off not only the sweat of your run, but the awkward tension of the conversation from your skin.

-

Weeks pass without any more slip ups, but without any more explanation, either.

Somehow, you get better at shoving your feelings down, even as Kevin does nothing to help quell them. You gain more comfort in your position at work, you grow and learn and thrive, even as the little voice in the back of your head reminds you the only reason you’ve made it this far is because you let Kevin go.

Slowly, Kevin’s life reintegrates with yours. It starts with a few of the boys lingering in the doorway when picking Kev up for the bus or the plane, new eyes curious and old stares hardened against you. An errant happy hour after work sees Kevin meeting your new subordinates and coworkers as well as your friend Emily who you referred to jokingly as your ‘work wife’ when the two of you had been dating. He waves off all your apologies, far more concerned with getting you home safely than anything else, and when he tells Em it was good to see her, you think he means it.

From there, the boys start to make more frequent appearances at the house, as you imagine they’ve been doing in the time you’ve been gone. Their hesitancy gives you pause, makes you feel like maybe you’re interfering with Kev’s life - a brick wall where there used to be a doorway.

Soon, it’s not uncommon for at least one Flyer or two to be hanging around in some capacity. They’re all polite enough, offering you a smile and a greeting. Of them all, G is probably the most genuine, telling you a bit about his kids and always reminding you Ryanne would love to see you.

You can’t step back into that world though, certainly not when you are neither wife nor girlfriend, but rather the pathetic ex being shown more kindness than you think you deserve. And so you always smile, but decline any efforts to include you and hide in your room until they leave.

Travis isn’t so friendly.

From the first time he sets his eyes on you once again, there’s nothing but contempt behind them. It’s such a startling difference from how he existed in your memory - friendly, kind, excitable. Now his stare is burning and unsettling.

You do your best to ignore it, hiding away in your room and only coming out when necessary.

It’s like Travis is lying in wait as he all but pounces on you when you leave the sanctity of the guest room an hour or two after getting home. “Travis,” you state politely while trying to edge around him toward the kitchen and a glass of water. He replies with your name in a tone far less cordial. Something about it all has the hair on the back of your neck standing up and your body moving into a defensive position; you’re pretty sure you’re in for a fight whether you want one or not.

“What do you want Teeks?” you ask after a minute long staredown that feels like an eternity. There’s no mistaking the way his jaw clenches as his nickname leaves your lips.

“You can’t keep hurting him like this,” he says simply. Your posture relaxes when you realize you’re not in for a verbal lashing, but then you’re confused. Hurting him? By simply existing?

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act so surprised or confused. You know exactly what you’re doing,” he replies, but doesn’t elaborate further, shouting that he’s coming when someone calls for him. Travis walks backwards a few steps, his eyes never leaving yours before he’s shaking his head and rejoining the others.

You can’t stop thinking about it though, the conversation replaying over and over in your mind. What exactly did Travis think you were doing, and why was it hurting Kevin? Was your presence really that toxic, your existence here, in this house, that painful? You can read between the lines, fluent in the art of never saying what you mean, and so you know that Travis (and likely everyone else) thinks you have ulterior motives, like it’s fun for you or some sort of game the way you dance around Kevin, lost in the memory of what it’s like to have him and lose him.

And so you pull away even further. Gone are the nights spent separately but together on the couch. Conveniently, work picks up around the same time, giving you the out of late nights in the office where you return so exhausted you do nothing but shower and fall into bed.

You start looking for apartments to rent once again.

It works for a time. Kevin’s busy being a superstar, you’re busy avoiding him - the perfect scenario, really. But he’s not stupid, he knows something is going on, that there’s something you’re not telling him.

“You’re not holding up your end of the bargain, you know,” he states offhandedly on one of the rare occasions he has to speak with you before you flee in the morning. You pause with your hand on the coffee pot and turn to him with your eyebrows raised. “Home cooked dinner, remember?”

Gulping, you turn back to the task at hand, fixing up your travel mug of coffee just the way you like it. With a tone that feels clipped and forced, you reply, “Right, how about tomorrow night?”

“It’s a date.”

-

“Something smells good,” Kevin’s loud voice breaks the silence you’d been cooking in.

You shrug, stirring the sauce briefly before pulling a noodle from the pot to test. He can’t help the smile that breaks out upon watching your face scrunch up thoughtfully before you sigh, “Needs another minute. Think you can set the table?”

He does as he’s told; he always was the type to ask ‘how high’ when you told him to jump.

“Tastes good, too,” he states later while sitting across from you at the dining table the two of you only ever used when his mom was in town. There’s an open bottle of wine on the table between you, but you can’t help but shift your eyes toward the wine rack behind him, thinking you’ll likely need another soon.

“It’s just spaghetti bolognese,” you shrug self-deprecatingly. It’s not like it took a whole lot of effort, or like you’d slaved away all day at it.

He appreciates it all the same though, smiling genuinely at you before softly speaking, “It always reminds me of sophomore year.”

Though the memory of being so in love during your college years is a painful one now, what with how it all ended, it still brings a thoughtful smile to your face. You had hated living on campus, your freshman year roommate was a total snob and you despised the lack of privacy, and so you’d rented an apartment nearby sophomore year with a few friends you’d met in an intro econ class. Kev had spent all his free time at your apartment rather than his own space, not that you had minded.

To celebrate your first anniversary, you’d sexiled your roommates and made him the very meal you were now eating.

For a moment you’re embarrassed, it’s not that you’d exactly forgotten the memory, but it hadn’t been on your mind as you’d started cooking. It was just quick and easy, and in all honesty, you’d probably be able to make it in your sleep by now. He doesn’t bug you, though, doesn’t say anything stupid or make you feel like you were in the wrong.

It’s quiet then, the only sound being your playlist quietly playing through the speaker in the kitchen from where you’d forgotten to stop it. Quiet, that is until he opens his mouth.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” It’s a statement, not a question, but you freeze with your fork midair just the same.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply, prim and proper, hoping he lets it go. That wasn’t really Kevin’s style, though, not until the last few months before the end of your relationship. When he’d let you speak in half truths and responded in kind, if either of you spoke at all. Before then, he was a straight-to-the-point, never go to sleep angry kind of guy, and so you knew your hopes were unfounded.

“Cut the shit.” His body language mirrors his tone of voice, shoulders slumped and expression melancholy.

“Nothing, work’s just picked up and I’m a little stressed about some deadlines. No big deal.” You avoid his eyes, carefully twirling some spaghetti around your fork.

He says your name with such conviction that you almost break, bottom lip twitching with the desire to pout. You swallow down whatever you might have said alongside a bite of your food. A low growl leaves his throat then, alongside the slamming of his fist on the dinner table, the silverware rattling in response. You flinch, but finally meet his eyes and is that not what he had wanted? “What’s. Going. On?” His words are short, and his temper is too, but beneath it all is a desire to know that you’re okay.

Part of you wonders if it would be better to double down. To insist that he’s crazy, that nothing’s wrong. It calls back a bit too strongly to the last set of fights between the two of you right before you left with your bags backed and an empty ring finger. When you danced around the truth, hinting and implying and speaking in tongues rather than admit your insecurities. There were many nights in the time since where you wondered if you’d just dug in a little deeper, let him in a little closer, if things wouldn’t have ended up the way they did.

Another part of you kind of wants to hash it all out, right here, right now. Inside of you is that sweet eighteen year old who fell in love with a gentle giant at a house party and she’s practically begging on her knees for you to let her speak. To let her carve out the heart that still beats for him and place it neatly on the table for him to take. You can’t though. Not while the you with her bags packed and the shattered pieces of her heart stuck together with a shoddy bandaid stands in front screaming to get out of here.

And then there’s you, as you are, sitting at this dinner table that holds so many memories - the first night in the new house, birthdays, anniversaries, the laughter of his nieces and nephews. You are sad that it’s come to this, broken at the idea of the distance between you expanding far past the length of the dining room table, confused that now he’s choosing to talk about it when it was fine for months to skirt around the issues.

“Now you wanna talk about it?” you can’t help but snap. Kevin reacts like you’ve slapped him, flinching and grimacing and you know you haven’t been wrong that it was purposeful the way he’s avoided it all.

It doesn’t temper his attitude though, his grip on his fork only tightening as he speaks through a tense jaw, “Yeah, I do. So talk.” And you really want to latch onto the anger and the hurt you feel licking up your spine and wield words like a knife. But what right do you have to do that? To throw things back at him. He’s not your fiance, not even your boyfriend anymore. Just an ex with a big heart, letting you stay in the house you picked out until you find your own brick house with a bright open concept kitchen and someone new to cook dinner with in it.

And so you decide to be a little vulnerable. Sighing, you ask, “Do you regret letting me stay?”

Though the syllables are anything but complex, the question is not an easy one and neither is the answer. He’s silent for long enough that you start to wonder if you’ve said something wrong. He lets a hand run down his face, squeezing his chin for a second. “Why are you asking me that?” Kevin might not be the man warming your bed every night anymore, but he still knows you better than anyone else and he’s sure there’s something more going on here than a little doubt and insecurity.

“Can you please just answer the question?” you snap again. You’d feel bad about it, but you can’t feel anything beyond the anxiety that’s causing your heart to race in your chest.

“No, I don’t,” he says finally and you really don’t know if the emotion you feel is relief or grief. They’re so similar, sisters not twins in the way they both cause your jaw to unclench, your shoulders to drop.

“Why don’t you regret it?”

His expression falls just the tiniest amount further, and if you didn’t know every line of his face so intimately, you probably wouldn’t notice. “I’m only going to ask you one more time,” he speaks through a clenched jaw, “Why are you asking me all this?”

You swallow hard then, the image of Travis with a snarled mouth just outside your door so clear in your mind. “Travis said something,” you admit softly. He curses softly under his breath, rising from his chair and crossing the space between you quickly before pulling you up along with him. The weight of your hands in his is as comforting and grounding as you remember, though you focus your gaze on where your limbs are linked. He squeezes your fingers, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you look up into his eyes.

“His heart’s in the right place,” he says and you can’t find it in yours to disagree. You know that Kev was as broken by the break up as you were and you know that you left the mess for the likes of Trav and Nolan and everyone else to clean. The thing is, you know this and you’ve already been feeling guilty about this, but to have such a harsh reminder thrown in your face hit you that much harder. “None of this has been easy for me, you know. Nothing has, not since... well...” Not since you left. “But I will always want what is best for you and that’s why I invited you to stay and that’s why I want you to keep staying here.”

You feel it, all the words unspoken between you, all the hurt and the anguish and the yearning. You feel it, and yet you allow him to pull you in for a heavy hug, one where his every emotion pours out of every inch of his skin. Squeezing him tightly right back, you listen to the steady rhythm of his heart, inhale the heady scent of his aftershave, memorize the feel of him all around you, invading every single one of your senses.

“We’re okay right? You still mean a lot to me and I don’t ever want us to feel like strangers.” You may not have Kevin in the way you used to, but you can’t ever go back to watching his life from the sidelines. It’s another sliver of vulnerability and he swallows it up greedily. One hand slides to the underside of your jaw, cradling your face in his large hand as he tilts your head backwards just a smidge. He presses his lips to your forehead in a motion that you feel all the way down to the tips of your toes.

“We’re okay, baby. We’re okay.” The pet name slips out without much thought from him, but he doesn’t take it back and you don’t make a big deal out of it.

And you are okay. You resume watching tv on the couch separately but together, the inches between you slowly fading until you find yourself resting your head on his shoulder while some terrible action flick plays on. The home cooked dinners ramp up too, a mix of old and new favorites enjoyed at the dining table, with good conversation and even better laughter. Somehow, Ryanne even convinces you to come to a few home games, and it doesn’t even make you feel that strange or that much of an outsider - especially not after a cold beer during warmups and a cuddly Gav on your lap for most of the game.

You’re okay but you’re not okay because you do all these things as a side character in his life. No longer are you a starring cast member of the Kevin Hayes Show, the smarter half of the A plotline. You’re a C plot at best, a minor background character who delivers the punchline that is your new relationship or lack thereof. There are no hands on thighs or asses or breasts when you sit on the couch together, no pretext or motive behind watching the film like there once was. When you cook those dinners, you don’t have to ward off wandering hands and stolen kisses that distract you long enough for the smoke detector to start beeping. Ryanne is a friend but so is Kevin and the family box doesn’t hold the same comfort it once did.

It’s still hard and it still hurts, but you’re navigating a life with Kevin that isn’t a life with Kevin. Not the kind you’d always imagined and dreamed of, that is.

-

It’s an old habit, the way you pull your favorite navy suit of his from his closet, hanging it carefully on the hook on the back of his door. You used to do this, before; set out a suit for him to wear for his game while he was at morning skate. There’s no real explanation for why you do it now, except, maybe, that it feels right to do so. Like maybe you could lean into it for a moment and pretend that nothing had ever gone wrong, that you’d never been hurt.

That feeling doesn’t last long, not as you return to the living room and curl up on the couch, old reruns of some sitcom playing on tv while you pretend you’re not waiting for him to come home.

Home.

What a strange word, with an even stranger connotation. Once this house had been your home, the bedroom he now sleeps alone in had once contained your shared bed, his closet that is no longer full once held your work clothes alongside his suits, his ensuite once boasted your toothbrush alongside his. And then it had been cruelly taken from you, the very rug you now stand on had been pulled from beneath your feet. It had been your doing as much as it had been his, of course, but the point remains the same. This was no longer your house, so when did it become home to you once again?

Although, was it the brick and mortar that felt like home or was it the person?

You don’t have much time to dwell on it before he’s back, time fading as he grabs a bite to eat and then heads to his room for a nap. Once upon a time, he would have begged you to join him, probably copping a feel in the process. Once upon a time, you used to fall asleep with your head on his chest.

When he emerges a while later, you have to pretend like you’re not caught up in the memory of it all by the sight of him in that suit. Like you don’t remember the press of that belt buckle into your stomach, or the slide of those lapels under your fingertips. He thanks you with that big dumb grin of his, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he leaves for the arena.

You don’t go to the game; he’d never invited you to and you were still too stuck on how to co-exist within this space without crossing boundaries that it never even occurred to you to ask instead, but that doesn’t stop you from watching from the couch. The sweater you wear is old, nearly a decade old in fact, a souvenir from the first year you’d known Kevin. It’s a Boston College hoodie, the maroon and gold lettering long since faded, something you’d borrowed from him when you were still ‘just friends’ and hadn’t ever given back. Not even when you left him.

The game is a good one, you think, even though you’ve only got eyes for number thirteen. Some time between the first and second periods, you’d cracked a bottle of wine, and by the time Kevin comes home, you’re well on your way to downing a second bottle. It’s late, and if you’d been sleeping you’re certain you would have woken up from the sound of him bustling through the door.

“Jesus, you didn’t drive here did you?” you snap as he trips over his own discarded loafers.

“Ubered,” he shrugs, before he’s lighting up with a grin. “You really do care.”

“Of course I care, Kev,” you reply earnestly, and all traces of laughter are gone immediately from his face. There’s a tension then, and you’re not sure if it rests in the weight of your words and their implication, or if the tension has existed here all along. Truthfully it’s likely a mix of the two, but you don’t dwell on it as you lift from your spot on the couch and approach him. There’s no mistaking the look in his eyes as he takes in the sweater you’re wearing, his old number on the sleeve.

The stubble on his cheek looks so inviting to your tipsy mind, your fingertips flexing with your desire to cup his jaw. You come together, then, unsure of who exactly took the first step forward. It doesn’t really matter though, not with your entire being caged within his arms. It’s gentler than you can remember ever being with Kevin before, almost as if you’re both parcels stamped ‘fragile, handle with care’ and one wrong move will result in pieces of shattered glass on the hardwood floor. It’s intimate and warm and comforting, your head pressed against his chest, like not a single other thing matters in the world.

As you pull apart you press a chaste kiss to his adams apple where the top button of his shirt has been undone. It’s like something is set off within you from just that simple touch, as you suddenly feel the urge to kiss every inch of his skin. Slowly and methodically, you unbutton the rest of the way down, kissing the newly revealed flesh after every one comes undone. It’s gentle and reverent, the way you practically worship at the altar of his body.

He lets you do it without any sort of protest or movement, hands awkwardly dropped at his sides until you reach the last button and pull the bottom of his shirt to untuck it. It’s like something has awoken in him too, as he reaches for you, pulling you up to him where he’s leaned in as well. One hand cups your cheek, thumb gently rubbing at your cheekbone, while the other tangles in your hair as your lips meet. He tastes like beer and honey, and on anyone else it would be a strange combination, but you can’t get enough of it even as your hands slide his shirt off his shoulders.

As the garment drops to the floor, Kevin’s reaching for your sweatshirt, calloused fingertips brushing against your skin as he helps you take it off, the kiss breaking for only the time it takes for the offending item to leave your body. From there he walks you to his bedroom with practiced ease, and if his tongue hadn’t been down your throat, you might have allowed yourself to wallow in the hurt that comes with the knowledge of how he’d gotten all that practice.

As it stands, you can barely remember your own name, so caught up in the feel of his bare chest and the gentle roll of his hips against your own.

You’re overcome with emotion when he lays you down so gently, so carefully, against the sheets of his unmade bed. His kiss is soft and sweet, but yet still so inexplicably heavy you feel it all over your body. He’s gentle still as he makes his way down your body, ridding you of your leggings and underwear and settling between your thighs.

There’s a reverent look on his eyes as he presses gentle kisses from your knee to your inner thigh, and you can’t help the way his name falls from your lips, pleading. He smiles up at you then, a tender grin on his face as he says, “Yeah, baby, I know what you need.” And he does, finally pressing his mouth to the ache between your thighs. You sigh contently, the feeling one you’d sorely missed all these months, curling one hand into the hair atop his head and lacing the other with his fingers on your hip.

He coaxes you through one gentle orgasm and then another, humming and moaning against you in clear pleasure, asking and pleading for you to ‘give him one more’.

When he pulls back from your body, chin gleaming and chest heaving, you instinctively begin to turn onto your stomach, into his favorite position to have you in. He stops you, one hand sliding to cup your chin as he presses his lips to yours solidly, “Wanna see you.”

It sends a rush of longing through you, and so you settle further into his pillows, wrapping your arms around him and reeling him in. It’s a stretch as he fills you, little whines escaping your lips until he’s fully sheathed within you. You’d be content to lie here forever like this with him, but moments later he’s pulling your leg to wrap around his waist while he slowly begins to move.

There’s a moment, though, of almost full clarity as your hands tangle in his hair while your head is thrown back. He pauses, eyes boring into your very soul, open mouths doing nothing but passing air into each other’s lungs. He’s not moving but you feel him, every inch of his body and mind and love and it’s everything you could never say, every word you likely never would. It’s everything and he’s everything and you never want the moment to end.

It does, with a flex of his hips and your nails scratching at his scalp, his chain hovering and dragging over your breasts as you find salvation together. “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he groans into the skin of your neck, kissing and sucking and biting.

You fall asleep in his arms, sweaty and tired and content in a way you’ve been a thousand times before, the way it should always be.

-

The harsh morning rays of the sun tell a different story. You come into consciousness with the feeling of being completely encapsulated by another’s warmth. On instinct, you press back against his still naked body, preening as his arm tightens around your waist in return.

Until you remember this isn’t your bed or your home and the man asleep next to you isn’t your fiancé anymore. Guilt and shame and self-loathing bubble in your gut as the harsh realization settles in. It descends into panic as you try to plot your way out of the hole you dug with your bare hands.

It all only worsens as Kevin begins to stir, a mumbled ‘morning’ in your ear that you feel like a buzz of electricity down your spine. It would be so easy to lean back into the warmth of his body, the comforting weight of his hands, the soft press of his lips to your skin.

But none of that is yours to want anymore.

Kevin’s more than a little disoriented, as sleep lets him shake free of her clutches, he comes to a few realizations of his own. You’re here, in this bed you’d once shared. Your naked frame is pressed to his own and the scent of your shampoo is everywhere. For the briefest of moments he lets himself hope, lets himself believe that this is the moment he’s been waiting for, the one where you come home to him and you stay. In this bed, in these sheets, in this home. But you’re not replying to his morning greeting, and then you’re pulling from his embrace, movements jilted and awkward and hurried. “What-”

“This was a mistake,” you blurt out, hopping back into your pants and eyes frantically searching for your shirt. The memory of your sweatshirt hitting the ground in the kitchen has you squeezing your eyes shut for a moment before you’re slipping on a hoodie of his that was lying on the chair.

He sits up in bed, the sheet falling to pool at his waist and you have to force your eyes to remain above his shoulders. Truthfully, it’s not that difficult considering your eyes are focused on the wall behind him. He’s a little defensive, and a lot indignant as he all but asks you to repeat yourself. “A mistake? You’re gonna call this a mistake?”

“Yes, a mistake. You were just lonely and horny and that’s my fault because I've just been hanging around here like your shadow.” It’s the best you can come up with, some half-cocked explanation with more holes in it than a screen door. It’s flimsy like one too, rattling in the wind that is Kevin’s anger.

He gets up, slipping on a pair of underwear and stalking towards you with an unreadable look in his eye. “Horny and lonely? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Horny and lonely, Kevin. And- And if you need me to leave the house so you can pick up, I can do that or- or I’ll stay in my room and-“

“What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t want to ‘pick up’.” He sounds disgusted with the idea, disgusted with the way you’re talking right now but you can’t stop yourself.

“Well clearly you should be, there’s no other explanation for last night.” You’re doubling down on your bullshit, unwilling and unable to listen to the voice inside of you that is screaming your love for him. It had been long buried, tucked beneath the hurt and the sadness and the anger, but last night had brought it to the surface. Everything about Kevin is so drawing to you, from the soft warmth of his body to the hard expression on his face, but you swallow it down.

“No other explanation?” He shakes his head in disbelief, the image of you in bed next to him quickly lighting up in flames, pooling into ash at his feet. “Tell me the fucking truth.”

You inhale sharply and he knows he’s hit his mark. It’s satisfying, the way he cuts through your bullshit, but the satisfaction doesn’t last. Because while he’s thinking about everything that could go right, you’re still hung up on everything that went wrong. On the last few months of your relationship, but especially on that final fight that nailed the very last nail in the coffin.

For a minute you’re back in this house, a few rooms over, a little younger.

“I don’t know what I want to do!” you shout, dragging your hands down your face. The argument isn’t a new one, in fact it’s been a recurring disagreement, ever since you were first put forward for the promotion. It’s kind of a big deal - a leadership position at your age is almost unheard of, but it was your name put forward, and your position to accept.

“I think you do, I think you’re just too much of a coward to say it out loud. There’s two choices here, baby,” the way the pet name leaves his lips is a mockery of the syllables, the frustration and the anger that’s been building for months finally coming to a head, “either you stay with me, or you take the job and go. We both know what you’re going to choose.”

You can’t help the way you go immediately on the attack, the fear of losing everything before you so great, it’s got you completely and wholly irrational. “I can’t just sit around here and raise your babies and post on instagram and have a stupid lifestyle blog. I’m sorry that I can’t be the perfect wife and go to all of your home games and decorate stupid jean jackets.”

It’s not what he’s asking you to do, not really. He’s asking for you to finally make a decision and stick to it. He knows and you know and everyone else around you knows that this is the fork in the road of your relationship. His schedule is insane enough, there’s no way you’ll be able to handle a long distance relationship. It’s less than 100 miles between your front door and New York, but it might as well be oceans away with how little you’ll see each other. And he knows, he knows this is an amazing opportunity for you, a once in a lifetime shot, and though he wants to beg you to stay, he knows he needs to let you go. He loves you more than he cares for himself and he wants your every dream to come true. Above everything, he knows you need to go to New York and you need to take this opportunity and you need to leave him behind.

He knows all this, and yet it still stings as you all but tell him you don’t want to have his children. Kev’s wanted to be a dad for as long as he can remember, and he’s wanted you to be their mom for as long as he’s known you. For the better part of a decade, he’s pictured babies, and he’s pictured you loving them and holding them and raising them. He’s pictured half of you and all the best parts of himself together. It’s a dream he’s slowly been letting go of in the time that’s passed since you first brought up the promotion, but to have it so neatly and completely taken from him is staggering.

“I never asked you for any of those things,” he argues, one hand gripping at the curls at the top of his head. “I know you’re driven and I know you’re smarter than me or anyone I know. And that’s why I know you’re going to take this job and you’re going to leave me. I want you to have everything that you want.”

“But what if what I want is you?” You’re hysterical now, though this is not a new argument, it’s never reached these levels before. You feel it, deep in your bones that this is it, that this is the end of something beautiful and magical. The relationship is slipping through your fingers, grains of sand falling and falling and falling until your hourglass is tipped over and empty.

“It’s not,” he says simply. “It’s not enough.”

There’s a final note in his voice and you know he’s not going to change his mind and you know you’re not either. Because truthfully, you were probably always going to pick the job and the future. You’d just hoped that the two of you could find compromise along the way. Although a large part of you always knew it wasn’t meant to last, that you would never be the kind of girl who was good enough to marry the likes of Kevin Hayes. No matter how much you loved him, nothing would ever change the fact that you didn’t have the look or the lifestyle or the wealthy family to fall back on. You knew that he would grow to resent all the things that once made him fall in love with you, that your contrarian ways and your ego and your goals and aspirations made you incompatible with the WAG life. You knew that when he said it wasn’t enough, he really meant you.

You don’t compromise; you accept the position and move out two weeks later.

And then you’re back here, a little older, a little wiser. And so you shake your head, backing away slowly. “It doesn’t fucking matter, Kevin. Okay? It doesn’t fucking matter because I’m still me and you’re still you and you told me that it wasn’t enough. Okay? So it doesn’t matter.” He goes to follow you but you put your hand out in an attempt to keep the distance, “Don’t. Okay? Don’t. I’ll give you your sweater back, I promise, but I need some space.”

“Okay,” his voice shakes as he speaks, “Have your space, but please come home.”

[storiesofsvu]

A Redemption Earned Ch 23

Heather Dunbar x reader Warnings: language, tricky conversations, you know the drill by now. Rob & Heather acting like an old married couple.

After a very full and exciting day of third grade, you were out on the playground supervising pick ups, making sure everyone was going home with an approved adult. You’d had a bit of a free period that afternoon that you were thankful for, able to get some projects on the go while your class had joined up with the other third graders for a special art period. You weren’t sure what they’d been working on, but Cody had been psyched to show you his before the sudden distraction of monkey bars pulled him away.

You said a brief goodbye to a couple of your kids, reminding their parents to make sure the school library books were in their bags on Monday so they weren’t late returns and let out a little sigh, turning your gaze back to the playground. You caught her out of the corner of your eye as she came up to you,

“Hey.” You greeted with a warm smile, “Cody’s mom, right?”

“Yeah.” She smiled back, extending a hand, “Lily. I guess we never really got a proper introduction, it’s Ms Summers, right?”

“Yeah, but y/n’s fine.” You felt your heart rate pick up at the first sign Heather’s hunch was right and immediately started calculating how to get around all of this and not let anything slip.

“How’s he been doing?”

“He’s great! Seems to be having a good time, he’s picking things up quickly, I don’t have any worries.”

“Good.” She let out a little sigh, “he likes you a lot more than his old teacher, I think that’s really helping.”

“Mom!” A very excited Cody called out, nearly dumping his backpack on the ground as he tugged a piece of construction paper out of it, “Ms Summers!” He couldn’t really decide which of you he was more excited to show it off to but ended up leaping onto his mom who caught him with the skill only a parent could posses.

“Hey buddy.” She greeted him with a laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “how was your day?”

“Good! But look!” He gestured wildly to the paper, making sure he had your attention to as he showed it off, “we made family trees for Mrs. Henderson.”

“That’s awesome.”

“Very well done.” You complimented with a smile and he gave you very toothy grin back.

“See, there’s me and you.” He turned back to his mom, pointing at the drawings on the paper, “and gramma and grampa.” He looked up at you, “they’re by the sun cause they live where it’s real hot.”

“My parents retired to Florida.” Lily informed you with a grin and you laughed.

“And I drew this for daddy.” He pointed back to the picture and your heart leapt in your throat at the sight of a gravestone with a scribbly ‘JD’ on it.

“How very thoughtful.” She kissed him on the cheek and in an instant he was struggling to get down on the ground, art shown off, attention back on burning off energy.

“Can I keep playing with Carter til his mom comes?”

“Course buddy.” She took the paper from him and scooped up his backpack, “when she gets here why don’t you see if he wants to come over for dinner? Pizza and Pixar night?”

“Yay!” Cody squealed before racing back over to the playground to his friend.

“That’s nice.” You commented, “I don’t know a lot of parents who would do that last minute.”

“Meh,” she shrugged, “she’s a single mom too, I’m sure she could use a break for a night. It does really suck to not be able to just drop them at their grandparents, ya know?” She looked down at Cody’s art project once more before sticking it into his backpack and glancing back up at you, “I…uh… I hope you don’t think it’s like… gruesome, that Cody drew a gravestone for his dad.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.” You laughed lightly, “each family has their own dynamic. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You don’t need to be.” She let out a little sigh, “he didn’t even know about Cody. It was one of those one time situations; I was planning on terminating originally but changed my mind. We’d already cut contact, and honestly I think he would’ve been a terrible father. The reason Cody doesn’t even know what he looks like is cause when I went through his Facebook to find a picture there wasn’t a single one of him not partying. Cody was two when he died, so it wouldn’t have been much anyways.” She stopped suddenly and looked up at you, “wow. Sorry. That’s an overshare much?” You both laughed, “I just haven’t had a real conversation with an adult in like a week.”

“That… I understand.” You laughed in return, not saying anything else out of fear that you were going to let it slip. Thankfully you were saved by Carter’s mom walking up and Lily getting distracted with her right before turning back to you.

“It was nice to officially meet you.”

“You too.” You smiled back to her, relieved even more when another teacher came to swap out with you and you were able to head back to your classroom to pack up your things. You grabbed your cell phone and opened the text chain with Heather.

‘I’m not even sure if I should be telling you this, but you’re the lawyer so do with it what you will. Cody’s mom’s name is Lily, it was a one night stand. His dad died about six years ago, his initials are JD and he was a pretty big partier’

The three little writing bubbles popped up almost instantly,

‘All things considered I’m going to be rather late tonight. Feel free to eat without me.’

‘Let me know if I can do anything.’

‘I will, thank you. I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

**

Rob almost missed the sound of knocking on the door all the way from the kitchen, only realizing someone was there when Steve started barking. He made sure the timer was set and moved through the house, pulling open the door.

“Hey Heat.”

“I need to tell you something.” She blurted out, not giving herself the chance to back out from a potentially hard conversation. Rob let out a little chuckle, leaning against the doorframe.

“I already know about y/n. It’s not an affair if we’re divorced.” He teased and she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “What’s up?”

“Well…while we’re on the topic of terrible things I did in the past…” He stepped back, letting her into the house, “we have a grandson.”

“What?” That stalled Rob, his eyes shooting up to Heather’s and he noticed the brimming of tears in her eyes.

“He looks exactly like him Rob… our sweet baby boy.” She was doing her best not to get choked up about it but it was honestly too late for that. Rob reached out, tugging her into a tight bear hug as the news sunk through him and he felt the same surge of emotion Heather was experiencing. He was beginning to nearly daydream about spending time with the boy when Heather’s previous statement began to alarm him and he grabbed at her shoulders, pulling her out of the embrace.

“Wait. What was the terrible thing you did? Please don’t tell me you threw this girl a giant sum of money to never be seen again.”

“No.” Heather rolled her eyes as she wiped at them, crossing the room to Rob’s liquor cart she helped herself and dropped down onto the couch. After a moment, Rob followed suit, sitting in the chair opposite of her.

“You gonna tell me or are we playing twenty questions?”

“You know that Jordan was always a momma’s boy, even when he was a degenerate.” Rob nodded, “he came to me about nine years ago, said he’d knocked a girl up and that she wanted to abort. I don’t think she asked for anything, Jordan just wanted to cover bases so I gave him a wad of cash and didn’t ask any questions.”

“Except she changed her mind?”

“It would appear so. I don’t think Jordan ever found out.” She leant forward, running a hand over her face, “god I really failed as a parent.”

“Don’t say that.” He assured, hand reaching out to squeeze at her arm.

“My kid knocked someone up at twenty two, I think I qualify.”

“I knocked you up at twenty-one.”

“We were married.”

“And look at how that turned out.” Rob smirked and she rolled her eyes again, “every family dynamic is different. And we did everything we could to cover our bases, both kids got the sex talk from each of us and Maria, Becca got it again from Jackie when she came out to cover the lesbian side of things. Jordan had condoms, any longer term girlfriend of his I always made sure had options for birth control and I kept a stock of the morning after pill at the house that they both had free access to for dates or friends. We did way more than most parents do.”

Heather hummed, taking a sip of her drink as she started to get lost in thought, “what if she doesn’t let us meet him?” She glanced up with the misting of tears in her eyes again and Rob cocked a brow.

“What’d’you mean? How… did you find out about all this? I kinda figured she’d come to you for money or something.”

“He’s in y/n’s class.” She sighed wearily, “I went to pick her up last week and she’s got these little collages, pictures of the kids and little self biographies. The kid looks just like Jordan did at that age, I honestly thought she had a picture of Jordan on the wall before I realized it was a recent picture.”

“And you’re sure he’s Jordan’s?”

“What, do you need me to run DNA?” She asked dryly and he chuckled.

“You would’ve demanded it in the past.”

“Y/n texted me today, I’m not sure how she found out but she was talking to the mom after school, her name’s Lily and I know that was the girl’s name. She also said Cody’s dad is dead, passed about six years ago and was a huge partier…and that his initials are JD. Combine all that together…”

“And it’s no coincidence.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re the family law lawyer… what are our options?”

“I… don’t want to force myself into this girl’s life if she doesn’t want us involved. And I really don’t want to force y/n’s hand into something unethical and get her in trouble at work.”

“Does Becca know?” He asked and she shook her head, “she’s always good with sleuthing, and they’re probably around the same age. They might even have some mutual friends, could start off with a Facebook message, or find an email through social media to start out with. Lily doesn’t have to reply if she doesn’t want to.” Heather looked up across at him a bit bewildered,

“You know, sometimes I hate that you’re smarter than me.”

“Oh I wouldn’t go that far.” He chuckled, “never in a million years could I do any of the jobs you’ve done.”

“That’s because you hate arguing.” She teased back with a grin before letting out a heavy sigh, “why am I already more invested in a kid I haven’t even met when I could barely be bothered with my own? Does that make me a terrible human being?”

“No.” Rob smiled softly at her, “I’d say it means you’re moving in the right direction. You’ve already dealt with your parenting issues in therapy, and you’ve repaired your relationship with Becca.”

“I never got the chance with Jordan.”

“Your brain is giving you the thought that this would be your second chance with Jordan. Except instead of mom this one’s gonna call you gramma.”

“Stop.”

“Grammie?”

“Rob. I swear.”

“Granny has a particularly nice ring to it.”

“Robert! Do you want to live to see tomorrow!?”

“Ohoho! I got full named.” He chuckled, leaning back in his chair as he took a sip of his drink.

“Oh god…” Heather’s brow furrowed, “what is the kid gonna call me?”

“I just gave you three wonderful options.” Rob teased and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, and what’re you going by then?”

“Pops.” He grinned over the rim of his glass and she let out a huff of a laugh.

“Glad to know one of us has it all figured out.”

“I never thought the day would come, I just hoped.”

“I mean you could always remarry someone whose kids want or have kids.”

“Nah.” He waved her off and she raised a brow.

“Why aren’t you dating? I mean you are a catch.” She fumbled slightly, “sorry, I don’t know if that’s any of my business.”

“It’s fine Heat.” He laughed, “I’m perfectly happy with my life and I’m content on being alone. Me and Steve have a great time together, don’t we bud?” He scratched at the dogs ears and he gave a little bark in agreement.

“As long as I didn’t fuck you up too much and make you not believe in love anymore, we’re good.” She muttered with a small laugh.

“You did nothing of the sort and you know it. You also know that I believe there’s one big love out there for everybody, and you were mine.”

“Aaand I feel like a terrible human being again. Thank you.” She replied with a groan and he let out a laugh.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You were my big love and you gave me twenty nine years of a relatively stable marriage, two kids that I love with all my heart, and now, hopefully a grandson. I’m not upset that I wasn’t your big love. In high school we were each other’s big love, we both changed and evolved into different people on different paths.”

“Might’ve had something to do with me not realizing I was gay.” Heather muttered over the rim of her glass as she took another sip.

“Ah, you’ve figured the label out now?”

“I think so.” Her head tilted, “there’s almost too many to keep up with nowadays, I’ll discover a new one and get confused all over again. Becca said to just go with gay or queer for now and if I want to tighten it up later I can. And remember when I say that it doesn’t mean I didn’t love you, because I did, and still do.”

“I know.” He smiled, “might have something to do with the fact that we rarely had sex though. Especially considering everything I’ve heard; your sex drive is…” he whistled and gestured towards the ceiling twice with his thumb and Heather covered her face with her hands as she blushed.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Have you started menopause yet, cause that could make it go either way.”

“That’s it.” She pushed up off the couch, “I’m leaving.” Rob chuckled, following her to the doorway as she slipped back into her coat.

“I’m so glad we can still banter like an old married couple.” He beamed at her when she turned back to him at the door.

“I hate you.” She deadpanned.

“I love you too.” He leant in, kissing her forehead gently, “have a good session. I’ll talk to Becca; I was going over there to help her put together a dresser tonight anyways. You’re at y/n’s this week?”

“Yes. And thank you.” She stepped back toward him, hugging him briefly, “and I love you too.” She turned away with a small smile on her face as she pulled open the door and started down the stairs.

“See! I got you smiling didn’t I?” He called after her.

Heather glanced over her shoulder, smile on her cheeks but shaking her head at his playfulness before she flipped him off and made her way back into the car. While there was still a lot of things to try and figure out, she knew one thing; she was eternally grateful for Rob and the fact that he was always willing to be her sounding board. He understood her in a way that she sometimes didn’t even understand herself and in times like this, that was exactly what she needed.

_______ @ms-calhoun @naturalxselection @yesterdaysgone @hbkpop @giftedchildturns40 @anya-casablanca @svulife-rl  @swimmingstudentchaos891 @alexusonfire @jamiethetrans @natasha-danvers @oliviaswifey @mysticfalls01 @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @svushots @yourtaletotell @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @addictedtodinosaurs @imaginaryoperagloves @multifandomlesbianic @annegilletteslostwh0r3 @bookpillows @drduckthief @whimsicallymad @mmmmokdok @ladysc @momlifebehard @mmemalwa @holycrapraewth @poisonedcrowns @wannabe-fic-reader @when-wolves-howl @dead-of-niight @fighterkimburgess @lannister-slings-and-arrows @borg-queerr @godard-muse  @itisdoctortoyousir @brooklynmhm @nobody-important1212 @emilyprentiss4life

[fatal-error-blog]

FATAL_ERROR COMIC AND CONTENT WILL RETURN JANUARY 2022!

TL;DR at the end~ Hey folks! I’m so sorry I’ve been absent from the blog and from the discord for such a long time. I mentioned that I was taking a break back in…oh geez, May? And that break has gone on for much longer than I expected XD Long story short, I am very okay! This has just been an exceptionally busy year, and I’ve had to rearrange my priorities a bit to navigate it all.

To be absolutely honest, I’ve just been burnt out. Not from just the comic, but from a lot of things outside the blog. And if you’ve ever been burnt out, then you know that it kinda doesn’t matter how passionate or excited you are to work on your projects - you just keep hitting a wall that doesn’t really let you progress. Unfortunately I hit that wall, haha. So I’ve been taking the time to recover from it. Legitimately, this blog post took several weeks longer than I wanted it to, just because I was trying to gather enough will to draw a cute little drawing to go along with it. Eventually I figured that it needed to go up without it.

It sucks to have to admit that I needed to step away from the comic, the blog, and the discord. It’s hard to admit to myself that I was having a hard time balancing everything and that despite being excited about where the comic was headed, I just physically and mentally had to take a break. It feels really bad to have a lot of fun ideas about what I want next for the story, for all the side comics and the graphic novel and just not be able to act on them because something within me is just tired and needs a minute before continuing. It sucks to disappoint everyone who’s come to love this story and is also just as excited to see what happens next.

I think deep down I’ve always been scared that I’d give up on the Fatal_Error comic, which is why I was hesitant to step away from it to take care of other things that had to be taken care of. But I think I know now that completing this story is so important to me that I could never give up on it. But I do know that I need to give myself time to get some other things in my life in order, so that I can get through the block and come back to the comic ready to keep moving forward. So I hope you’ll be patient with me and rejoin me when the comic starts back up in January 2022. I don’t want to bore ya’ll with details, but probably the biggest thing I’ve got going on outside of this blog is trying to advance my career. I work in game development (QA Tester, been that way for a few years) and I’m more than ready to move up in the development pipeline. So I’ve been dedicating a lot lot lot of my time trying to work on those skills and apply for jobs. It’s very time consuming, haha. And mentally taxing. So I’ve been using this time (and I’ll be using the rest of the year) to work on some indie projects, beef up my portfolio, and hopefully get hired for a better job than I have now. I can’t express how much that’s gonna relieve a lot of stress for me, and less stress = more energy to spend on the Fatal_Error comic.

I do still plan to stream working on these projects, it’s (probably) not gonna involve Fatal haha but there is a lot of art involved and me bumbling around trying to program which should be entertaining to some extent, so if that’s something you’re interested in I’ll mention whenever I’m planning on streaming and you’re more than welcome to pop in and see what all the fuss is about.

As for discord, I’m never really far ^_^ I keep discord open all the time, and even if I don’t post or do much in the discord, I’m always nearby to check in and available to talk if ya’ll need me. I’ll try to be more involved though <3

I think that’s the major stuff? I really am looking forward to hopping back into Fatal’s story once things calm down on my end. It’s been a really wonderful source of comfort and expression for me and I love where the story is going, and I love getting to share it with ya’ll. I’m sorry for making you all wait so long for what comes next, but as always, I sincerely hope that once we get there, it’ll be worth the wait. Thank you for your patience, your kindness, and your enthusiasm. I’ll be around (and catching up on the inbox, messages, etc haha), but in terms of the comic, I’ll see ya’ll in January 2022 <3

Stay determined! I know I will be ^_^ <3 Xedra

TL;DR:

Is the comic over?/Is the blog dead? Nope! Just on pause until January 2022. What about the volume 2 of the graphic novel? Also on pause! I’m hoping to open preorders in March/April 2022. Are you okay? Yup! Thank you for asking, and I’m sorry for making you worry. What are you going to be doing in the meantime? I’m going to be working on some game development projects. I’m working on applying for jobs and I need stuff for my portfolio, and I also want to make sure I have something to do after Fatal_Error is finished ^_^ Are you still gonna stream? Yup! It’ll probably be non-Fatal_Error stuff but you’re more than welcome to watch me work! I’ll make a post about it when I have the times and stuff sorted out. Are you gonna be back on discord? Slowly, but yup. I’ll kinda chill in the background if you need me. You gonna play Deltarune Chapter 2? HEcK YEAH MY DUDE

[knifefather]

Mmmm you gotta do a scenario on helping Riz with those poor heavy breeder balls 🥴 I bet he'd appreciate you laving your tongue all over them and sucking his balls and his cock so thoroughly his legs turn to jelly

dI meannn Ris does have the biggest, juiciest balls of Passione so 👀 It is my duty to write about them! And I apologize that it took so long for me to fill this request. I hope that the wait was worth it!

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: messy blowjobs, size kink, established relationship. 18+ only 

Risotto hasn't gotten a nut in weeks.

He recently returned back to Napoli after carrying out a particularly difficult assassination. The capo had a difficult time tracking the target due to their powerful stand and an even tougher time getting the blood stains out of his clothes after he was done with them. Oh well. Wearing all black has its perks.

Risotto was gone for approximately 21 days. The bastard really gave him a run for his money, because Risotto hasn't had a chase like that in a very long time. It was challenging for sure, but nothing he couldn't handle. What he couldn't handle, though, was going so long getting a nut. He was on high alert for several days on end, and you just don't have time for that kind of stuff when you're stalking a drug lord Stand user.

Risotto did nothing but sleep after he got back. He was excited to see you, his partner, once again, but his excitement was overpowered by exhaustion. After reuniting with you, he stumbled into the bedroom and crawled into bed. And that is where he stayed, asleep. You woke him up periodically to feed him, but otherwise, you watched over him while he rested. After a few days, Risotto seemed to wake for good. You were coincidentally in the bedroom at that time, quietly putting away laundry. He groaned and slowly sat up in the bed, one of his huge hands coming up to run the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Hey, baby,” you greet, finishing hanging up a shirt in the closet. 

“Hey,” he croaks back. 

“You feeling okay?” you ask. You come to sit with him in the bed, your side still mostly made. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you to rest on his shoulder. 

“I’m alright,” he responds. “Wanna lay down for awhile?”

“You’ve been laying down for like... three days,” you say, snickering at him. 

“You know what I mean. I’ve missed being close to you.” 

Pulling up the sheets, you crawl into bed with him despite being in your day clothes. You lay on your side and he snuggles against your back, holding you securely. He inhales deeply, not doubt smelling the sweet scent of your shampoo. The two of your are still for a moment, holding each other and listening to the sound of your synchronized breathing. It’s so peaceful and comfortable in the room that your eyes begin to slip shut. Though, you’re disturbed by something poking you in the back. You adjust yourself, hoping it would go away, but instead Risotto grunts while you move. 

“Morning wood?” you question, craning your head over your shoulder to smile at him. His black and red eyes are squinted as he fights off sleep once again. 

“You could say that,” Risotto says. “It’s been almost a month since I’ve gotten any. Couldn’t even touch myself.”

“You could get some right now, you know,” you say mischievously. His eyes open wider now, red irises shifting to look at you. 

“I’m too tired to fuck you properly.” He sounds disappointed. 

“Don’t worry about this. Let me take the reigns,” you assure him. You carefully untangle yourself from his arms and push the blanket off of you. At your direction, Risotto makes himself comfortable against the pillows and slides off his boxer shorts. You position yourself between his legs, laying on your stomach between his thighs. He parts them for you, looking down at you eagerly. The expression on his face is making you feel some feel hot on the inside. 

You gingerly grab his weighty cock and gave it a couple pumps with your fist. It’s as hard as a rock in your hand and stood intimidatingly tall. You can never get Risotto to fit in your mouth all of the way, but you’ll be damned if you don’t try. You grab it by the base and guide it towards your lips, giving it a few broad licks. Looking up at him, his black and red eyes met yours. His lids are heavy, his breaths deep as you handle his cock. You mouth his tip, getting it nice and wet before taking more into your mouth. Risotto lets out a pleased sigh as you work your way down, taking more and more of him with every little bob of your head. 

“Merde,” he moans, his head rolling back on his shoulders before straightening. “I missed you so much,” he speaks, his hand coming down to cup the back of your head lovingly. You bat your lashes at him and smile as well as you can around his member. You swallow down more of him until you can’t stand it. Gagging yourself on his dick, you pump the remaining few inches that you can’t reach. Your saliva is dripping down his shaft as your mouth struggles to accommodate his pulsating length.  Risotto was never particularly vocal. He didn’t usually speak or moan very much. Though, this time, he’s breathless, grunting and groaning as you suck him with all you’ve got. You feel triumphant, and with a bit more confidence, you begin to bob your head more fervidly on his cock. Risotto’s thighs start to twitch on either side of you, his muscles growing restless and you try to suck the cum from him. “How are you doing that with your tongue?” he moans, running a hand through his short, white hair. You smugly continue to tease the underside of his cock with your tongue, all while your cheeks are hollowed. Cheekily, you use your other hand to cup his balls, squeezing him just tight enough to send jolts of pleasure up his spine. A loud moan escapes him, followed by him biting his lip to silence himself. Risotto’s cheeks are red with embarrassment, but you think that it’s adorable. His sweet, pleasured noise travels right to your pussy, causing you to tingle and throb as you suck him off. 

You can tell that your boyfriend is close because he’s beginning to buck up into your mouth. Usually he has enough control not to, because he is aware that his member is...bigger than average. But when he gets lost in the pleasure, on the edge and needing to cum, he will buck into your tight throat. Risotto only needs a little more to cum, just a bit. Tears are streaming steadily from your eyes, sloppy sounds coming from your throat with every bob of your head. Risotto grips your hair, pushing your head down slightly. “Gonna cum, cara,” he warns. But you’re prepared for it. You breathe in deeply through your nose and focuse all of your energy on relaxing your throat. Risotto lets out a long groan as he shoots his load down your throat. You sputter on his seed, some of it spilling out the sides of your mouth. Though, he’s relentless, and continues shooting ribbon after ribbon of his spunk. Drool, cum, and tears drip down your face and onto the sheets. The sight of you was truly beautiful. 

Risotto’s eyelashes are fluttering in bliss as he gets his fill. It felt like an eternity since he got to have your hands and mouth on him, and he’s so happy. You only pull back from his cock when you physically cannot take having in him your throat anymore. The capo relaxes his hand as you pull off his cock, sputtering and coughing as more cum drips down your chin. You swallow what you can, drawing in deep breaths in an effort to gather yourself. “Easy, easy,” Risotto speaks softly to you, loosening his grip on your hair and petting the back of your head gently instead. As you gaze up at him, you can’t help but smile. He returns the gesture, giving you a small smirk. His hand moves from the back of your head to your chin, tilting your face up at him. “I love you so much,” he professes. “Thank you for doing that for me.” 

“If you thought that this was just for you, then you are mistaken,” you reply wittily, still trying to regain your breath. “But you are welcome. I love you too, Ris.” 

Risotto strokes your chin with his thumb lovingly. “Likewise. Why don’t you let me get a towel for your face?” he says, the smooth bass of his voice vibrating in your ears. You nod enthusiastically. He plants a kiss on the top of your head before he crawls out of bed. 

[gladerscake]

Hungry Eyes

(Gally x Reader)

Requested by the incredible @ultraintrovertedgryffindor 💯 This is a little more heated than all the other imagines I’ve written so far. No smut though! So if you’re not into that kind of stuff, don’t worry, it isn’t actually in there. Enjoy!

For the life of you, you could not focus on your work. As hard you as you tried to keep your attention on what you were supposed to be doing, it was proving to be an immensely difficult task. The surplus of weeds at your feet with their urgent need to be plucked didn’t stand a chance against something much, much more interesting, just across the glade…

You leaned against your shovel as your gaze, for the umpteenth time in the past twenty minutes, traveled all the way to the builders. Well… one builder, in particular. Your builder.

A familiar warmth encompassed your abdomen with an unsurprising quickness as your eyes landed on Gally.

It has been an especially hot day, the blazing sun making more than a few gladers positively miserable as it made trudging through their workload that much more challenging. The builders seemed to be affected most of all. At some point Gally had slipped out of his shirt, and now, all you could do was watch, with bated breath and skipping heartbeat, as he lugged around massive hunks of wood like they weighed nothing to him.

Gally’s strength never ceased to amaze you. It was something you were sure you would marvel at until the end of time. Of course, his job as the Keeper of the builders demanded a certain amount of physical superiority, but holy shuck, was it something to leave your jaw hanging.

You stared, rather indiscreetly, as Gally’s mouth-watering torso glistened in the sunlight, damp beads illuminating his skin and making it appear as though he was sweating diamond dust. His impressive muscles were on full display, tensing and flexing, the prominent indents of his abs pulling your gaze in like magnets. His burly arms were also nearly impossible to look away from. A small grin crawled onto your lips as you recalled the way those same arms encompassed you in the bed of your shared hut, just earlier that morning. Your boyfriend looked absolutely breath-taking, and the exquisite sight you were currently being gifted with left you frozen, longing, and maybe just a little dazed. If you were to suddenly feel dizzy, it definitely wouldn’t be from the sun. The heat was notable, sure, but it was easy to ignore as your body was pervaded with a heat of a different kind.

“Oh, pick it up, would you?”

Newt’s slightly annoyed British lilt momentarily brought you out of your trance as you snapped your head towards him, returning back to earth. Although, you couldn’t deny, a part of you was somewhat discontent with being returned.

“Pick what up?” Your forehead scrunched in confusion as you peered at your friend.

“Your jaw. And your bloody dignity, for that matter.” Newt scoffed, a thoroughly amused grin dancing on his lips as he had clearly caught you gawking at Gally.

Just a few weeks ago, you would’ve been so embarrassed by that, you’d turn redder than the tomatoes growing in the garden, but ever since you and Gally got together, you have been feeling increasingly less bothered by these things. Why should you feel embarrassed for looking at what was rightfully yours?

You merely gave a small shrug at Newt’s teasing comment, an unapologetic grin tugging at the corner of your mouth “It’s my boyfriend. And I’ll stare if I want to.”

Newt released a hoot of laughter, seemingly not having expected you so casually brushing it off “Oh, alright! And what happens if he catches you?”

Your grin only widened, your stomach bubbling with an involuntary spark of excitement at the thought “I’m sure he’ll be nothing short of thrilled.”

Your twinkling gaze darted towards Gally once again… Only this time, your eyes met.

Your heart jumped up to your throat, your breath halting in your airways as your boyfriend stood tall, hands propped up on his hips while he looked right back at you from his working area, his piercing bluish-green eyes narrowed with palpable interest.

Clearly he had noticed you blatantly checking him out as a borderline cocky smirk etched his lips. Now, that has always been effective in bringing a blush to your cheeks. You bit your bottom lip as you accepted the wordless challenge and didn’t look away, instead responding with a playful grin of your own.

Gally chuckled, purposely flexing his abdomen and sending you a tantalizing wink, causing your cheeks to burn hotter. He knew what he was doing to you, and he was enjoying every second. He loved getting you all flustered, and you, with your pounding heart and pink-tinged skin, made it so easy for him.

Your gaze trailed over his chiseled bare chest, the heat swarming your body beginning to feel more like an ache. The urge to stride right over to Gally, throw your arms around him, pull him close and kiss him senseless, was beginning to cloud your mind… However, it was at that moment that Newt deliberately cleared his throat, forcing you to tear your eyes away from your boyfriend.

Okay, okay, enough of that, for now. You needed to get at least some work done. As yummy as your keeper looked at the moment, you didn’t want your friend getting mad at you for being too distracted.

“Sorry, Newt. I’m back. Promise!” You chuckled, internally commanding your flushed state to simmer down, the blush on your cheeks gradually dispersing, along with the foggy feeling over your head.

“You better be.” Newt shook his head “As fascinating as it is to watch Gally get you riled up from across the glade, I’m not doing all the work by myself.” He stated with an underlying scold, making you feel just a tiny bit of remorse.

“Well, I can’t always help it…” You muttered under your breath, returning your focus to the weeds you needed to pull. The thought of seeing Gally at lunch, in about an hour, graced your lips with a smile. Knowing him, he would have plenty to say to you, after what had just transpired…

-later-

The Lunch bell had rung, calling all the gladers to come grab something to eat, and you were about to make your way over to Frypan’s shack. You were finally done with this one row of carrots, falling slightly behind Newt, who had already left a few minutes prior.

You pulled yourself up from your crouching position, stretching your back and brushing the dirt off of your hands, when you suddenly squeaked, a pair of muscular arms, strong like tree trunks, wrapped themselves around your waist.

“Hey!!” Your surprised cry melted into melodic laughter as you turned your head to your captor.

Gally was grinning from ear-to-ear as he pulled you close from behind, your back pressing fully against his still bare torso, making you feel the heat radiating off of his skin.

“Hey yourself!” He chuckled, promptly dipping his head into your sensitive neck and peppering it with multiple kisses. It tickled a bit, but the feeling absolutely delighted you, as you slightly tilted your head back against his shoulder. You could feel his lips grinning against your delicate skin as he pressed a final peck to your pulse point and drew back, catching your gaze with his “Did you enjoy the show earlier?”

Of course he would lead with that. You hadn’t had a single doubt. Nonetheless, you pursed your lips, feigning confusion and batting your eyes at him. A picture of innocent cluelessness.

“Hmm? What show, my keeper? I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Gally playfully rolled his eyes, giving your waist a mischievous squeeze “You sure about that? Because I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You hummed, furrowing yours brows as you imitated deep thought before shaking your head “Nope. I’m totally stumped. Not a clue.”

Gally huffed, his openly flirtatious grin unfaltering “Really? So you weren’t staring at me while I was working my ass off under the scorching sun?”

You swallowed a giggle, your clueless expression paving to a little smirk, a fiery glint flickering in your eyes. Fine, you could admit to it. But that didn’t mean you would succumb to his teasing. He’d seen enough of your blushing cheeks for one day.

You feigned a dramatic gasp, pretending to be shocked and mortified “Oh no! You saw that? I thought I had been so subtle…”

Gally squeezed you tighter, holding you so close that you could feel his heart thumping against your back “Didn’t really look like you were trying to be.”

You grinned at him, his captivating eyes nearly making you forget that anything else existed around you “On second thought, maybe I wasn’t.”

Gally hummed in satisfaction. Good answer. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe your were his, and the fact that you were made him feel like the luckiest shank in the glade. His heart leapt every time you melted into him, every time you responded to his teasing with matching energy, every time you showcased that you were just as happy to be his as he was to be yours. Each loving and yearning gaze you sent his way, each brush of your fingers over his skin, each hypnotising kiss you two shared… all of it was electrifying to him, addictive, like sugar.

He cupped your chin in between his two fingers, gently pulling your face closer to his and capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

You softly moaned against his mouth as you readily kissed him back, just like you had been waiting to do all morning. Your arm reached up and wound itself behind his neck, drawing him in more and being rewarded with an approving grunt from his throat. Gally’s kisses never failed to leave you breathless, he was fantastic at it. You didn’t care that you didn’t have anyone to compare to. You didn’t need to try anyone else to know that he tasted the best.

You whimpered as Gally’s teeth temptingly grazed your bottom lip before he pulled back, licking his lips as he gazed down at you with a near-predatory glow in his eyes. You felt a shiver crawl up your spine at the sight of his dilated pupils and slightly reddened parted lips. He looked so mesmerising…

Despite your body screaming at you not to, you attempted to wriggle out of his tight grasp, the sound of other gladers chattering in the distance reminding you that it was lunch time.

“Don’t get me wrong, I could do this all day, but we really should be heading over to Frypan’s. Aren’t you hungry?” You smiled, tracing your fingers down his jaw, the loving touch doing the opposite of making him want to pull away from you.

With an irresistible smirk, Gally finally whipped you around in his arms, so that you were facing him, his large hands latching onto your hips as he whispered against your lips “Oh, I’m hungry alright… Just not for lunch.”

You yelped as your feet suddenly left the ground, Gally’s strong arms engulfing you and leaving you no choice but to wrap your arms and legs around his glorious half-exposed body and hold on tight.

“Gally!” You halfheartedly tried to object, biting back your excited grin “What are you doing?”

The builder snickered, deeply, already turning in the direction of the Deadheads as he held you impossibly close, a devious spark flashing in his eyes.

“Staring like that can get you in trouble, baby. Guess you’re about to find out…”

Tags: @seldomabsent @obsessivelycapricious @ultraintrovertedgryffindor @maraudersimp @lattsgocaps @magnoliabloomfield @sherbertscarrothead-2 @moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom @abundantxadorations @izzymultifan @willseyebrows @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @anniemylennox @crazysheeplyca @isaacswhore

[watevermelon]

✧ MSBY Soulmate!Atsumu x Reader

➳ Summary: You knew all about his personality, whether through the rumor vine or the numerous warnings your friends gave you. But there was no avoiding it - he was your soulmate after all.

➳ fluff; mutual pining; small jealousy; slight angst with a happy ending ➳ Navigation

—-xXxXxXxXxXx—–

When he first met you, Atsumu hadn’t wanted to hear it.

This was in the prime of his life, being scouted for a Division 1 volleyball team was his life-goal and the only thing standing in his way was the upcoming Olympics. Which, of course, he was rumored to be included on as well.

Even back in high school, there were tons of fans and girls alike who would willingly fall to his feet. Regardless of his reputation, they were eager to share a single night despite knowing it would probably be their last. And Atsumu reveled in the excitement of the attention, feeding off the cheers and shallow admiration many threw at him both on the court and in the bedroom.

Atsumu didn’t want a soulmate, someone whom he was shackled to for the rest of his life.

No, initially he didn’t want you.

As for you, the feeling was mutual to a degree. Soulmates were a touchy topic for many, conversations about colors and contrast was something you could not personally relate to. The moment you met your soulmate, it was described to you as suddenly bathing your entire life in color.

A part of you was curious about your soulmate, where he was in the world, what was he doing and who he was with. But never had you centered your life around it, more like a passive curiosity that you hoped would one day be satiated.

You were a student of Inarizaki during its prime, the members of the volleyball team very popular among the student body. You had made acquaintances with Osamu and Suna through one or two classes, but never were you particularly close to them.

Your close friends often warned you about the leader of their trio anyway - Atsumu Miya and his drove of fuckboy energy. 

There was no doubt that the twin had multiple fan-clubs and obsessive flings surrounding him. You remembered once feeling sympathetic for his soulmate - thinking about how hard it would be to get him to saddle down to a single person. Especially, with the way he lived his life, it seemed the setter could care less about the concept of soulmates to begin with.

No, Atsumu would be a terrible soulmate for whoever was unfortunately linked to him by the red string of fate.

And while he was admittedly very handsome, you did not particularly care about the setter to actively reach out to him.

Besides, it was not like he even knew who you were to begin with.

The years went by and any thoughts you had about the setter were filed away in the quiet recesses of your mind, only appearing once in a while when Miya  Atsumu showed up on some article or newspaper cover for something regarding volleyball. You were silently proud of his accomplishments and representing your school and perfecture, achieving his dream and all, but hadn’t particularly cared about him in the first place.

That was all until one day, you walked into Onigiri Miya years later.

Even though Osamu was the quieter twin, he either had a good memory or was oddly sentimental, since he remembered your name immediately when you took a seat at the bar.

“I see the years have treated ya well.” Osamu started casually, almost making you blush at how the twin could say something like that as if totally normal between old friends. “How’ve ya been doin’?”

“I’ve been working in the city, just something temporary while I finish grad school.”

“Ah, you’ve always been smart.” He complimented.

“Nothing compared to you though.” You countered, “You look really happy doing this. And you have a few branches opening, I heard.”

“Keepin’ tabs on me?” He baited.

“Just like hearing about the success of our classmates.” You shrugged.

You were sure Osamu had something sassy to say back to you before he got called away by another customer. He motioned for you to stay as he walked to the other side. 

Your eyes followed him for a few seconds, watching how despite working around food constantly, he still had an athletic build after all these years. 

(Really, the dude was built like a dorito chip.)

And while you would have liked to stay and flirt with the pretty onigiri twin, a similar voice started from the door. A light chime signaling the front door opening, you heard a greeting toward Osamu, making you turn in your seat in interest.

Only to double-over in surprise as your world was suddenly too bright.

You had no time, not even seconds to get your bearings. Your life of white and black tones was suddenly full - the table covers were black and red, the plants at the windowsill were green with different arrangements of orange. You took in your surroundings quickly, soaking up colors for the first time in your life.

It seemed the other man was just as surprised, cursing as he went before you lifted your eyes simultaneously to look each other in the eyes once more.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Atsumu asked under his breath, but you heard it all the same.

What on earth could you possibly say to that?

Within seconds, the situation was whirling around in your brain that this was possibly the worst possible moment of your life.

You were soulmates that didn’t want each other - for opposite reasons, surely. You did not want to be with Atsumu since he was too much of a player to take the concept seriously and attempting anything with him would only result in heartache. And Atsumu didn’t want you because he surely had an endless amount of women he would rather be with.

“That’s what a girl wants to hear.” You countered as you crossed your arms.

You hadn't expected your first meeting with your soulmate to be met with expletives and it seemed Atsumu finally remembered a semblance of his manners.

“Sorry, ya caught me off-guard.” He started, “Now ain’t the greatest time for me.”

“Oh boy.” You murmured as you turned back in your seat at the bar, Atsumu taking the open one next to you.

“Wait, (L/N)? From Inarizaki?” Atsumu asked after he motioned toward Osamu in greeting.

“That’s me.” You formally introduced yourself, extending a hand out to him. He regarded you quietly before taking his phone out for you to take and put your number in.

“I knew it, I don’t forget a pretty face like yers after all.” Atsumu smoothly said. This was your soulmate and all you felt in response was resentment, thinking about all the women he probably used that line with. You handed him back his phone as he continued, “Wow, look at ya all grown up.”

“And look at you, a professional volleyball player.”

Atsumu looked at you with a critical eye, not one that you could really decipher, but it was clear he was looking at you very thoroughly. “Been to one’ve my games before?”

“Only a few times in high school.” You replied, facing his stare head-on as his smirk only widened. You weren’t sure what this was, but with a player like Atsumu, you were sure he was already sizing you up in a way you didn’t want.

Something told you that if you looked away, you would lose.

And so you held your ground, matching his intense stare as your onigiri meal waited for you at the bar-side.

Thankfully, his name was called out by his twin and Atsumu’s attention was grabbed away before you could break. 

“I didn’t know ya knew each other?” Osamu started as he returned, a glass in hand as he wiped it dry with a towel.

“We don’t.” You said instead.

Atsumu’s smirk tightened as he answered, “Just found out we’re soulmates, actually.”

Osamu put the glass down and turned to you, “'Tsumu fucking with me?”

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered.

“Unfortunately?” Atsumu emphasized as he turned to you more fully, the infuriating smirk still on his face for some reason, “I’ll have ya know that Imma great catch.”

“Debatable.” Osamu countered.

You laughed at his quip before looking at Atsumu, “Yeah, but I’m sure you don’t even want to be ‘caught,’ right?” You shot-back at the setter, “Unless you’re going to try to convince me that you still don’t want to entertain the droves of women at your feet?”

“Think ya have me all figured out?” Atsumu asked as he leaned closer to you, a quirked brow on his face. You looked toward Osamu who looked strangely amused, eyes going between you and Atsumu.

“I think I know enough to know why ‘now ain’t the greatest time’ for you.” You replied sassily as you shot back his first words to you, pushing at his chest to give back your personal space.

Atsumu just took your hand and put it in his own, calling your bluff. “Oh? Like how my time and attention are on Olympics while I’d rather treat my baby properly?”

“Oh god.” You said as you laughed.

You laughed.

To his face?

All the setter could think about was how interesting you were.

He had expected his soulmate to ‘fall at his feet’ as many had in the past. To cling to him for attention and to demand an exclusive shackle to them. But here you were: beautiful and independent and even physically pushing him away.

You grabbed your hand out of his light embrace and turned back to your food, smiling at what you thought was just another line he would feed to his other one-night stands. Atsumu bit his lip in frustration and looked briefly at Osamu, who was watching the two of you like his own personal source of humor.

If you were any other girl, Atsumu would wave you off. Say that he didn’t have time for one girl who didn’t care, he had dozens who would willingly take the spot instead. 

But you weren’t just any other girl, you were his soulmate.

And he could already feel the strange draw towards you.

Not even a few months ago he would scoff at the supposed soulmate bond. All the other members of the Black Jackals had found their other half and what they ranted on and on about made him sick. Bokuto somehow found a way to insert something about Akaashi at almost every conversation and Atsumu would constantly catch Hinata, even during midgame, staring at Kageyama.

They sickened him.

And yet somehow he now understood.

Seeing his soulmate before him, you were one of the first few people in a while that he felt like he had to prove himself to. There was probably an endless amount of expectation against him, he was sure. Being old classmates and seeing his name on a tabloid almost every other month would definitely do that.

And somehow only minutes into speaking to his soulmate, Atsumu wanted something different.

“I could always prove it to ya.” He shot toward you, making you laugh again. 

Alright, this shit ain’t gonna cut it.

Atsumu licked at his bottom lip before pulling your bar stool closer to his, relishing in the way your eyes widened in surprise as he did so. “Come on, ya lookin’ at yer soulmate. Just say what we both want and we can leave here together right now.”

You shot him back an incredulous expression, a challenging look in your eye as he put the ball in your court. It was strange to feed off the provocation of someone else; a new type of adrenaline in him as he wanted to get to know you.

“Sorry, but I’d rather not leave with a man who has hickies down his neck from some other woman.”

Atsumu almost felt himself click his tongue in frustration, but you were not exactly wrong. Just a few hours ago he was inside someone he couldn’t even name with a gun to his head, but that was a world before you.

A world before color and the sassy soulmate who seemed to want nothing to do with him. 

And while Atsumu wanted to prod a bit more, or at least get you to concede that he was the greatest option in the world, his phone rang out with Sakusa’s icon flashing on the screen.

Your eyes were drawn to the noise and you commented, “I’m sure you already have plans today anyway.”

Dashing that thought away, he lifted his phone to your eyes and showcased the proof to you. “Think again, my teammate is on the other line ready to chew my ass out.”

“Oh.” That shut you up, before shrugging and turning back to your food, “Well, I’ll see you around Atsumu.”

He leaned toward you, lips dropping beside your ear and lightly stating, “Keep ya schedule open this week.”

You hesitated for a second before saying, “Maybe.”

Atsumu answered the call and started gathering his things, his thoughts only half on Sakusa as the spiker complained about his cleaning habits in the locker room.

“We should probably exchange numbers again.” Osamu took out his phone, motioning it in your direction. 

You took it with a smile, to which Atsumu scowled and made a point of reminding his twin. “Yer better know she’s my soulmate.”

Osamu sighed outwardly and you just laughed adding, “And he’s the better twin afterall.”

Atsumu’s eyes darkened, phone completely forgotten as he took a step toward you, “I’ll remind you later who really is the better twin.”

He made it so easy to tease him, to challenge the world Atsumu built-up around him. You wanted to break it for some reason, to knock him down a peg for being stuck with a player as a soulmate.

And so you shot back, “I’d like to see you try.”

Atsumu smirked as his hand casually grazed up your thigh and squeezed at the skin there. “That’s a promise.”

He shot both of you goodbye’s before returning to his phone call and walking out the door. Atsumu had the last word for now, but you weren’t going to fall to his feet so easily. Turning back to Osamu was no help either, his expression amused as he watched the entire moment play-out.

“An here I was wantin’ to ask ya out.” Osamu stated plainly before shrugging as you sat still in your chair at the irony.

You expected that to be the last you’d see of Atsumu for a while - weeks or months or maybe even years as he entertained the long list of women that would be much easier to maintain than a soulmate.

He called you the next day, inviting you over for dinner and a movie before the weekend started.

You steeled your spine, telling yourself that the gorgeous setter was not going to get to you in a single night. He lived on the better side of Tokyo, just his zip-code alone was a flex of his wallet. And so when you reached his penthouse floor, you took a deep breath in the elevator before you entered his domain.

Again, you expected him to make good on his promise before, to make a move and prove to you that he was a playboy, asshole that you knew from high-school, but instead you had a pleasant first night.

Atsumu Miya entertained you with a home-cooked meal of all things, the two of you sat across from each other at his mahogany dining table.

“Who would’ve thought you would know how to cook well?”

“Ya know who my brother is?” Atsumu joked, “As if 'Samu will me live if I was an ass in the kitchen.”

“Of course, you’re just an ass in other places then.” You shot back, receiving a playful look of offense from the setter, before continuing. “But this tasted amazing, so thank you.”

Atsumu had that smirking expression on his face, like he was carefully watching you, picking you apart in his mind as he thought about the next ten moves in this strange game.

The setter put a hand on your knee under the table and you expected that to be the move, for it to slide up the rest of the way. But instead he tapped the area twice before he stood, grabbing your empty plates and motioning for you to go to the living room. 

“Why dont’cha get comfortable for the movie while I wash these?”

You weren’t disappointed, per se. 

Just surprised, if anything.

And the night continued on just as tamely, playful and even flirty banter between the two of you over the action movie that played out. At one point he draped a casual arm across the back of the couch, resting his hand on your shoulder and pulling you to lean against him.

You had witty banter back and forth and when the movie finally ended, Atsumu commented how it was getting late. Surprised again, you took the out and allowed him to call a car for you. Atsumu walked you down to the street and only when he was opening the door for you, did he lightly pull you at the waist to chastely move your lips together.

Lasting only seconds, he pulled away just as quickly and ushered you into the car and whispered in your ear, “See you soon, (F/N).

Everything you had expected of the playboy you thought you knew was shattered, no sudden move to get you on your back on his bedsheets. Yes, he still said plenty of flirty things to you, but he had yet to actually act on it. Was that simply a bluff before? Or was he playing a longer game to get you off the defensive?

“Yer so cute, (F/N).” Atsumu complimented you once as you lounged on his couch another day, “There are days I can barely keep my hands off ya.”

And before you could recognize how quickly your life was changing, that first initial date snowballed into more dates and somehow you had gotten to the point where you would visit his place fairly often. Whether for dinner or a simple hangout, it seemed Atsumu was keen on inserting himself into your life little by little.

And somewhere along the way, you started to doubt your earlier musings of a fuck boy with no regard for a soulmate. Maybe he had changed from high school? Or maybe, he had changed when he met you?

Or at least, that’s what you wanted to believe.

He had convinced you one night, when you came over for dinner or whatever it must have been, when it started to absolutely downpour outside. He insisted that he did not feel safe sending you home in this weather, to which you countered that you had travelled in worse.

That did little to subdue his worries and instead you found yourself in an oversized jersey getting tucked into his bed that night.

“What’s that face about?” He asked as you laid there together, bed sheets up to your shoulders as he placed an arm beneath your head.

“Nothing, just thinking.”

You thought the first time you’d ever see his bedsheets would be when he was inside of you, not tamely laying beside you and kissing your forehead goodnight. And when he pulled you closer to him, cuddling you to sleep that night, that was one of the safest times you had ever felt.

If this was just a game, if you were just another one of his girls, he would have made a move that night, right?

And so you believed that Atsumu was honestly as earnest in his actions as he said, trying to get to know you for you. Not because you were just another woman to put as a notch on his bedpost, but because he was genuinely interested in you.

That was until you saw the first dating scandal since you had met the setter.

He had plenty of other scandals before this, many women had been attached to his name before, but never had you cared in the past because that was simply his reputation and you barely knew him. But now you had an active role in his life, how could you not know about some woman he was apparently also spending time with?

You did not want to believe some random tabloids over the trust of your soulmate. At least, that was until one day you overheard Atsumu on the phone with his twin.

“Listen, I took out (F/N) that first time cause ya told me to.”

That shit hurted.

The entire foundation of your relationship was based on the fact that his twin pressured him into getting to know you? Did Atsumu even want to get to know you in the first place? Was he really playing with your feelings this whole time?

You turned and went back to his living room, filing this away in your mind as you took a seat. If Atsumu didn’t actually want you in his life, then you would surely give him the space he wanted to begin with.

But you had missed the rest of that phone conversation.

“But I feel like I’ve already fallen for her. I don’t know, she’s different. Ya, ya. I know, I won’t fuck it up this time.”

And so you resolved to put between each other the space he wanted initially.

When you first met, he was pretty vocal about not wanting a soulmate at the time. But he had convinced you along the way, that maybe this was something the both of you wanted.

You were wrong.

Phone calls went ignored and you stopped replying to texts after a few curt replies. You needed distance if you were going to get over Miya Atsumu and his inevitable line of one-night stands.

Your soulmate was supposed to be the one person in the world who completed you, who understood you whole and made you feel loved. And while you were on the precipice of those feelings, it all quickly came crashing down with reality.

Atsumu Miya did not want you.

One night, as you were studying for grad-school, you were working on your part of the group project and were expecting a call any moment now from your other partners. 

When the phone rang out, you picked it up without regard to the name on the screen until it was too late.

“Hey, (F/N)? Haven’t heard from you in a while.” Atsumu’s voice started immediately and it was not like you could hang-up on him now.

“Sorry, I’ve been busy trying to make rent, y’know. Not everyone can be a world-renowned professional athlete.”

There was a small pause on his end before, “... you could always stay with me if you have financial problems.”

What?

Why would he offer that? Just to make you suffer when he brought other women home?

“Don’t say things you’ll regret, haha.” You try to put back that earlier distance, “I’m sure you have a laundry list of girls who are eager to hear back from you after all.”

“What? (F/N), that’s not--”

You cut him off there, “Listen, I’m waiting on a couple people for a school thing. I’ll see you around, Miya-san.”

Miya-san.

Miya-san.

Where had he fucked up?

In the weeks Atsumu had gotten to know you, it was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that he hadn’t felt for anyone. It was like the unspoken bond crap that Kita had explained to him in high school or that Suna, who recently found his own soulmate, raved about was actually real.

For the first time in his life he wanted to spend time with a woman for longer than a single night. He wanted to bring you home, kiss you good morning, and possibly have a home with both your names on the mailbox.

And while not even a few months ago he would have scoffed at shit like that, Atsumu wanted it and felt that for the first time it was in his grasp.

So where did he go wrong?

The last thing he ever wanted to do was actually make you feel unwanted and he feared that his initial words might have sparked something within you.

It was no surprise when Atsumu showed up at your apartment unannounced the next day.

Not expecting any company, you waltzed over to the door, thinking it might be a package delivery, and opened it in your pajamas.

Atsumu walked right past you and into the living room, words striking with the specificity of a cobra. “Are you just fucking with me?”

You sputtered before closing the door, “What? 

He ran a stressed hand through his hair, but maintained eye-contact with you. “Yer my soulmate and I wanna get to know you. Am I alone in wantin’ this?”

“Shouldn’t I ask that of you?” You shot back, “You made it clear as day that you didn't want me as your soulmate to begin with!”

Atsumu sighed and took a step closer to you, closing the distance to lightly grab at your elbows. “For fucks sake, that was months ago. Don’t tell me that all that time together meant nothin’ to you?”

“Of course it meant something to me!” You exclaimed back, before pushing at his chest while he did not budge a single inch away. “Don’t act like I’m the one half-assed in this.”

He scowled back, “What is that suppos’ed to mean?”

You did not hesitate, "I know you only spent time with me because Osamu told you to.”

Atsumu recoiled in surprise and you took that as your escape, pushing his lingering hands away as you made for the kitchen. But the setter was out of his stupor quickly, trailing behind you.

“Fuck, what did ‘Samu tell you?”

“He didn’t have to tell me anything, I found out the truth myself.”

You could tell Atsumu’s stress level was skyrocketing, from the way his hair was mused without care and angled strangely in certain ways.

“Ya got it all wrong, it was just that first time!” Atsumu replied right behind you.

“What do you mean?”

“‘Samu was the one who told me to call ya the next day, but I was going to eventually ‘cause I wanted to get to know ya myself.”

You slowly took in his words, but it was hard to make any sort of decision with the setter right in front of you. A part of you, one that attributed it to the soulmate bond, was basically begging you to forgive him and wrap yourself in his embrace. That part wanted to feel those muscular arms around you once again, to feel safe in the arms of the one person in the universe meant for you.

But, afraid of getting hurt and without much argue left within you, you tossed back. “Yeah, eventually.”

Atsumu put a strong grip on your waist, holding you there in place before you could run away again.“‘Samu told me to, but I could’ave easily not done nothin’ that first night or any time after.”

You bit your lip at his words, Atsumu was laying all his cards on the table and he wanted a response from you. 

And he wanted it now.

“Please, ya know me better by now.” Atsumu turned you in place to face him, leaning down to whisper his words against your forehead. “I know Imma bad deal - I can’t imagine what ya thought of me back in high school and even earlier this year. I have a bad history and an even worse reputation.”

“But after just a few weeks, I don’t want ya out of my life ever again. Just hearin’ ya call me by my last name yesterday nearly killed me.” Atsumu continued, trailing his lips further down until your foreheads were touching, “Lets give this a try - a real one. Give me the chance to make you happy for the rest of our lives.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the insistent inner tug on your heart and how the setter was encompassing all your thoughts. “Atsumu… I--”

“Stop overthinkin’.” He interrupted, “I don’t want to bombard you. But I promise I won’t ever purposely hurt you.”

You took in a harsh breath, wondering how on earth this could be the same Miya Atsumu who plagued your high school. He had changed, not just from then but from the short amount of time you had already shared together. Opening your eyes slowly, Atsumu was still clutching you around the waist, but his eyes were carefully scanning your expression.

“Okay.” 

You replied, leaning into his touch more as the smile on the setter’s face widened.

He did not waste a single moment, leaning down to capture your lips with his. You stood surprised for a second, before pushing up to meet his gentle touches. There was no sudden epiphany, no instant speech of undying love after. But there was no denying the harsh flutter intensifying after every inflamed touch. 

Your heart pounded hard in your chest as you leaned more into the setter, knees going weak as his tongue roamed your open mouth. Your only focus was on how soft he felt against your mouth, how addictive it was to have Atsumu invaded all your senses. From the intense smell of his cologne to the light tickle of his blond hair against your head, Atsumu was dominating your every feeling.

And so it was quite a surprise when Atsumu gave you one final peck, before moving to your forehead and placing a light butterfly kiss there and backing off entirely.

“Fuck, just look at you.” He commented as he leaned back, looking at you up and down. There was no doubt the sight that greeted him, you messy with drool, tousled hair, and rumpled clothing. “Even in your sheep pajamas, it’s hard for me to keep my hands off ya.”

Your blush intensified at his words, putting a playful hand on his chest and muttering a small, “Shut up.”

“Never.” He quipped back, putting another kiss on your forehead before pulling away, only your hands still joined. “Now let’s get your apartment packed.”

“What?” You asked, confused. Your mind was still nothing more than a cup of spilled milk after Atsumu had all but ravaged your senses.

He smiled before pulling you back to your living room. You followed wordlessly, his previous statements slowly pouring into your brain after the intense liplock. It was hard to focus on anything when the attractive setter was making a point to kiss you at an open chance.

“As in packed to move in with me.”

[recurring-polynya]

Do I mind if I ask how you approach writing longer fic? I've always struggled to write anything more than maybe two chapters long and I'm curious if you have a particular method to how you approach such stories.

Thank you so much for this ask! I absolutely love it when people ask me for writing advice because it makes me feel like a Smart Person Who Knows Things.

Before we start, here is one grain of salt to take all of this with: I have a naturally long-form brain. It is very hard for me to write something less than 1k. Short fiction is great, and there is nothing wrong with sticking to short things if that's what your brain likes to do.

So. You have decided to write a story. This is going to focus on "stories". Some people write fic that's more freeform or whatever, I am not going to cover that. What I mean by a story is this:

It starts

Some stuff happens

It ends

It is highly probable that your story contains a change of state, which could be that a villain is defeated, or a goal is reached, but it could also be that character falls in love with another, or someone learns to like broccoli.

I like to start out by completing the sentence, "This is a story where _______". This is basically like coming up with a summary for an ao3 post, except that it doesn't need to be catchy. Lots of different kinds of things could go in that blank! It could literally be what happens: This is a story where Ichigo goes back in time and punches young Aizen in the nose. It could be about what you want to explore: This is a story where Hitsugaya gets a better understanding of his zanpakutou. It could be about the vibe you want to achieve: This is an AU where everyone is in a punk rock band and has cool hair and outfits. The idea of this is to clearly define what you, the author, is interested in writing. Make sure it feels right! Maybe you pick the first one, but when you say it out loud, you say, "You know, I really just want Ichigo to go back in time so he can horse around with young Renji and Rukia and punching Aizen in the nose is just an excuse for that." That may sound dumb, but it's fine, actually! Most people don't read stories strictly for the plot, they read stories for the implications of those plots! Will my favorite two characters kiss? Will there be funny interactions between these two groups of characters? Will there be sick fights? Stories are excuses to have scenes. Sometimes, you will have a story where the interesting sequence of events is the draw, but the point is to know what you're about.

Once you feel happy with your "mission statement", you need to decide the bounds of your story: where it starts and where it ends. It may be easier to start with the end. In some cases, it may be obvious from your mission statement: everyone gets home, a villain is defeated, Kenpachi realizes the meaning of friendship. On the other hand, let's look at that punk rock AU. You've picked a vibe, but you don't really have a natural story arc. It has to have a destination, though, otherwise, it's not really a story, it's a recipe for 3 chapters of an abandoned fanfic. So brainstorm a little: Maybe they get a record deal? Maybe they win a Battle of the Bands? Maybe Byakuya accepts that the band is actually good and tells Rukia he is proud of her. Do not settle for a plot just because it works. Pick something that makes you excited! You're the one who is gonna have to write it!

I said that we needed to pick a beginning point, too, but I'm actually going to skip that for now. The next thing I do is think of all the Big Scenes I want to write, the ones you are hype to write, the ones that pop in your head as you think about the premise. Make a bullet list. They don't need to be in order. The descriptions don't need to be super detailed, but write down anything about it that is important to you. If there's a mood or a snippet of dialogue or a joke you want to make, go ahead and jot that down so you don't forget it later. What you're doing now is putting broad blotches of color on a canvas, filling in space and leaving the detail for later.

Once you are pretty happy with what you have down, try to arrange it in chronological order. Put your end at the end (if it wasn't one of your big scenes, add it now). The next task is figuring out how to traverse your scenes. You've already picked out where you want to spend the majority of your energy. The rest, I regret to tell you, is your slog writing. Now, it often happens that you will find joy in some of these scenes and your best writing may occur there, but that's serendipity. These are the scenes that you are gonna have to make yourself sit down and write, so you honestly want to limit them to just the ones you need.

So how do we do this? Look at the first thing on the list. Can you start there? If so, congrats, that's your beginning. If you can't, what needs to happen to get to there? Where can you start so that you can get to your first fun scene as soon as possible? There. That’s it. You’ve picked your beginning, good job! Now, go through the rest of your list, and add in things that must happen, even if you don’t particularly look forward to writing them. The characters need to travel from geographic point A to point B. Shuuhei needs to say something that Izuru hears and misinterprets. The Central 46 makes a new law. If you have a good idea of how these things happen, go ahead and write them down, but it’s okay if you don’t know yet. Fill in all the blanks so that if you think of each bullet list as a scene, you could read it as a story, start to end. Once you get writing, you might add more scenes, or move things around or whatever, but you should have a thing that functions as a story.

If you struggle with this, an alternative is a story with a very strong structure that is going to guide you though what you have to write.Here are two examples from my own stories Hold On, Hold On (which is only one chapter, but the principle is the same) is structured around the 5 stages of grief. Not Broken, Just Bent takes place over roughly a week, and I just decided what happened every day of the week. See You on the Other Side takes place in the middle of a bunch of canon events, which worked at mile markers.

Congratulations. You’ve just made a rough outline!

Special note for avoiding burnout!: I am a slogger. I will drag myself through the broken glass of an interminable plot to get to a single thirsty scene. That's why, at this stage, I try to look at the ratio of what I want to write to what I must write. It's gonna vary for everyone, but this is a hobby, and if looking at this proto-outline makes you feel deeply tired, maybe this isn't a good story to be devoting your time to! Can you carve it down? Can you chuck two scenes you really want to write and get rid of 80% of the slog? Or maybe you can't! In that case, just write that thirsty scene as a standalone drabble! Or just go work on something else! Maybe in the future, this one will come back to you and you’ll have a fresh idea or a renewed enthusiasm for it.

Another thing I sometimes like to do at this point is to write out some notes about my characters and their motivations and moods. Character A is homesick. Character B is so determined to defeat the enemy that they are having a hard time being sympathetic to Character A. Character C cares for both A and B and is trying to support them both. This is sort of background info that you want to keep in your head as you are writing. Depending on the type of story you are writing, this might actually be the main plot, or it might be happening subtly, but adding to the emotional impact of the story. It’s very easy for me to write these sorts of emotional arcs, but if you struggle with that, you may wish to go ahead and made a more detailed outline for that, too.

Now, it’s time to start writing! I am great at beginnings-- it is very often the case for me that the opening scene was one of my Big Tentpole Scenes. (Before you hate me too much, I make up for this by being double horrible at endings; just let me have this) Usually, I will start at the beginning and write linearly for as long as I can until I get stuck. Then, I will look forward on my outline and do the next chronological scene that I feel like writing. In general, if I sit down to write and there is something I have an urge to write, that trumps everything else. Inspiration is a precious commodity, and you should embrace it when it hits! You can slog any day. I will occasionally hold off writing a scene that I really want to, because I am saving it, like a prize for myself for getting that far. This is a very personal process of figuring out what motivates your brain and then giving your brain what it needs to be its most productive.

Eventually, you will run out of things you are excited to write, but the good news is, you’ve got a bunch of story now! Odds are that what’s left is going to be a lot of those connective tissue scenes, and you’re just going to have to do them, except that now, because you’re connecting two concrete points instead of two abstract points, it will be a lot easier. You can continue running jokes you’ve started. Maybe you invented a cafe in an earlier scene where your characters hang out and you can have them return there. Try to think of ways to make these scenes more fun, both for yourself to write and for your reader to read. 

Around this time, I like to start refining that rough strokes outline into what I will call an “as-built” outline. (This is an engineering term where you update your plans or models for something to reflect any changes that had to be made along the way). This is a great activity to do at times when you feel like you have writers block. I write down every scene I have written as a 2-3 word blurb, in order. I break the scenes into what I think makes logical chapters, and I will do a word count on those prospective chapters and write it down. As you do this, you will realize that maybe you can move a scene from here to there, which will make it 1000% easier to write. Things may be happening too much, or you’ve got the characters eating three times in the same chapter. If you have subplots and dangling threads, this is where you make sure they get closure. I know this sounds very headache-y, but you are so far along in the story at this point that it’s really not-- it’s a way to look at the problems you have left. Use some sort of formatting (I like to bold things I haven’t done and sometimes I put them in red) and it gives you a very visual to-do list.

You specifically mentioned multi-chapter fanfics and I admit that I don’t tend to think in chapters, I tend to think of the story as a whole and just break it up where it feels natural. The as-built outlining I described is very helpful in making sure that my chapters feel balanced. They don’t necessarily need to be the same length, but I like them to have the same amount of stuff in them. One chapter may basically contain one long scene, and other may contain many short ones. I don’t tend to, but you can certainly have a fanfic that varies between short and long chapters, that can actually be an interesting effect. But like I said, I always like to know what I am doing, and so having it mapped out, you can say “welp, this is what I’ve done, how do I feel about that?”

Polynya, you may be saying at this point, do you write the whole fanfic before you post any of it? and I regret to inform you, the answer is yes. A lot of people write as they go, and I have made one attempt at this and I didn’t like it. I don’t like locking myself in, I just need to be able write out of order and go back and change things. Here is the story of a little in love: someone gave me an AU prompt and I got mildly obsessed with it, and wrote 5 snapshots drabbles in that universe, ending with a slight cliffhanger ending. I probably should have stopped there, but I decided to keep going. I wrote out an outline of 5 acts where the first act was detailed to the degree of each chapter being specified. The chapters here were much smaller than I usually make chapters: 1-2k. I wrote act i and ii and it was actually great, and then I hit act iii which required a lot of set up for misunderstandings and a mini romance arc. I couldn’t wing it, but nor could I figure it all out with outlining. I write dialogue in almost sort of an improv “Yes, and...?” style, so until I do it, I don’t know what’s going to happen. So, what I did was treat the second half of act iii as a complete story in the process I describe above, wrote the entire rest of it, and then posted it. One might notice that the chapter lengths grew to 3-5k each. I have two more acts to go, and I haven’t decided how I am going to do them yet, but I suspect I will treat each of them as their own mini-stories.

(I will admit that in Heart is a Muscle, I tend toward chapters that are about 10k long, and this is honestly too long, someone should smack me. If you like punchy chapters, 1-2k is good. I think 3-6k is probably an ideal chapter length. Is this how long the chapters are in my latest fanfic? Absolutely not.)

Okay, so there’s one more step, which is quality control. I am habitual re-reader-- I read my fanfics-in-progress over and over and over while I am working on them. I understand that not everyone does this, but I am usually the primary audience for my own writing, and this is the actual fun part for me. Nevertheless, you should re-read your work at least once, to make sure it hangs together.

This is purely optional, but I recommend it: get a writing friend (if you don’t like re-reading your work, I recommend this even more strongly). If you can get a full-service beta reader, that’s great, but if you can’t find someone, or if receiving that level of critique stresses you out, it’s perfectly valid to just find a friend who will read your stuff and a) shower you with compliments, b) reassure you about parts you aren’t sure about (or suggest ways to help) and c) point out any huge problems you missed. When I am writing a long fanfic, it is a huge motivational factor for me to be able to send my beta chapters as I finish them. If you are already an established writer, and you have people who consistently comment on your fic, they might be overjoyed to get a sneak peak at your work.

And that’s it! That’s the way I do it, anyway! Some people are able to sit down and write a very detailed outline and the write it start-to-finish. Good for them, I say! I have tried this and it doesn’t work great for me. I will admit that some of my fics (especially my early ones) I just sat down and banged out whole-cloth like an insane person and they are generally better than the ones I actually plan out, but that’s not a reproducible process.

As one final mechanical note, I usually write in Google Docs, which I can access on multiple devices (I used to write a lot on my phone), has convenient sharing functionality, and I use the ao3 html formatting script add-in. I generally have two documents for a single story-- one is the outline, and any other notes I want to have handy. I’ll usually put a trashcan space at the bottom for scenes that got cut but I don’t want to lose. The other is the fanfic itself.

I hope this is helpful! Please feel free to follow up with other questions and good luck with your writing!

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Nemesis: Retribution (2)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: MENTIONS OF SMUT FOR THIS CHAPTER. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOURS. (18+ ONLY), polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, mentions of illnesses, momentary fluff, bit of angst care of Bucky, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, rejection, bullying, heartbreak, character death

A/N: I couldn’t resist not posting this early. Here you go. Next ones will probably take a while coz I have to be an actual adult for a bit. 

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

1:2 Dark Chocolate

A few days of rest was required to recover from a super soldier's punch. The doctors had said that you were lucky Steve hadn't punched you with full strength or else you would probably have a whole cracked rib cage. You were anxious to jump back in to training, not used to being idle for very long.

You were given some painkillers at the clinic and ordered to stay there for the rest of the afternoon for monitoring. When you woke up, it was early evening and a blonde super soldier was napping on a steel chair next to your bed. He jumped when you moved to sit up, his heightened senses alarmed and disoriented for a second before he quickly switched to repeatedly apologizing to you. You laughed out loud. It was just a little ridiculous to you to see such a commanding presence in the field so charmingly boyish and adorably embarrassed.

Steve was a comforting presence but to be honest you were hoping to see Bucky. You didn't get a chance to thank him since he left immediately after the doctors had ushered you into the examination room. Once you were cleared to return to training, you caught sight of his long brunette hair and the bright smile on your face couldn't be stopped. It was the glare he pinned you with that made you halt your approach.

He was back to his disapproval of your very existence.

You had to admit that it stung. You thought that you were getting somewhere with him after he helped you. At least somewhere outside of the realm of outward disdain. And maybe you were hoping just a little bit that it could lead down the road to him feeling the same about you.

The timing was perfect when you were assigned to your first official mission with the Avengers. It was a chance to prove your worth to the team and to Bucky in particular. A chance to maybe make him see you as more than just a troublesome recruit.

You came back from the mission with your head held high and absolutely glowing with confidence at the kudos from Sam and Natasha. The great Natasha Romanoff had complimented your sniping skills, picking off enemies in her area even before she could aim her own gun at them.

The first thing you wanted to do after getting back to the Compound was to tell Bucky. You wanted to brag a little bit and maybe even thank him for the mentoring. If he hadn’t been so hard on you then you wouldn’t have pushed yourself to be at this level. You were skipping down the halls of the Compound in search for him, clutching the bullet casing from your first official Avenger kill.

FRIDAY had informed you that he was in the training area and you were bouncing on your feet with excitement. As you entered though the place was empty, the rest of the agents having retired to the mess halls. You ventured further in, trusting FRIDAY’s intel until you heard some noises coming from the adjacent armory. You smiled, he must be cleaning his guns again.

As you got closer, the noise began to get louder until you could make out what was undeniably pleasured moaning, one low and gravelly while the other more high pitched. You should have turned away, if only for the privacy of the couple who was wrapped up in their passion, but your curiosity pushed you to come closer and peak through the small crack in the door.

The brief image that you saw made you instantly draw back, a shaking hand pressed to your mouth to silence the shocked gasp. You backed away slowly, your mind struggling to process what you had just seen, then your flight response kicked in and you ran like hell out of there. The scene was burning a hole in your brain and caused your skin to grow cold. Sergeant Barnes rutting hard against a woman wrapped around his waist, his glinting eyes locked with yours, and a cocky sneer on his face.

You didn’t go to dinner that night or to the team celebration for a successful first mission. You chose instead to lay in your bunk with tears burning in your eyes and trying to erase the memory of your discovery. Of course he was already dating someone. A man of his caliber was sure to have a line-up of gorgeous eager women at his disposal. He probably had no interest in boring recruits like yourself. The woman he was throwing into bliss must be some supermodel or high ranking spy. How did you even end up deluding yourself that you could possibly catch his eye?

The rest of your roommates filtered in after a few hours, chatting away noisily about the party. Anna had come to sit on the edge of your bed and ran a comforting hand along your arm, concern clearly etched on her face.

“I’m fine. Just tired. The mission really wore me out,” you muttered with a small smile. You weren't ready to talk about it yet.

“Personally I think I had better success today than all of you,” Kim’s shrill voice cut through the good natured conversations in the room.

She wasn’t part of the group taken on the mission, claiming beforehand that she was ill. A chorus of curious why’s rang out through the group and she preened at once again being the center of attention.

“Well I just had the fuck of a lifetime from none other than Sergeant James Barnes.”

The room of women burst into chaos; squeals of disbelief, rapid fire questions on how big he was and how good of a lay was he, were they dating now or was this a fuck buddy situation. Of course Kim was more than happy to entertain each question.

You tuned all of it out, the noise turning into an annoying ringing in your ear. You turned around to face the wall as the silent tears that refused to be contained any longer fell to wet your pillow. You barely registered Anna squeezing your shoulder or the words that Kim threw your way.

“Sorry, Y/N. I guess I was just more Bucky’s type.”

You curled yourself into a tighter ball as the pain in your chest radiated across your whole body. You had assumed wrong about Bucky. It seemed that he wasn’t opposed to dating new recruits.

He was just opposed to you.

The taunting from Kim continued on and you just couldn't take it any longer. You brushed the tears away, grabbed your sweater, and marched yourself to the door. You needed to get some air. You needed to get away. Anywhere but there. You wrenched open the door and almost came crashing straight toward a solid chest. Your eyes travelled up to lock with the kind blue gaze of Captain America. You wondered why Steve was standing at the doors of your bunkers holding a pack of beer in his hand.

"Good evening, ladies," he said to the room of now suddenly speechless females. "I'm just going to borrow Y/N for a bit."

The crowd remained in shocked silence while you stared at him in confusion as he smiled sweetly down at you. He had gone looking for you when he didn't see you at the celebration after Natasha and Sam had sang your praises to him at your performance. He wanted to congratulate you and bring you a drink for a job well done.

"Come on. I know a good spot," he said, placing a hand on your back and guiding you out.

Steve brought you to the top of an observatory in the Compound. It was quiet, peaceful, and offered a great view. He cracked open a bottle for you and the conversation just flowed naturally. He kept making you laugh until your sides hurt with stories about his time as a performer in the military and all the unfortunate videos that came with it. You were crying with pure joy when he relented and re-enacted his buy military bonds act, your earlier darkened mood forgotten for the moment.

Steve felt like he did something right when your glassy eyes and defeated expression was replaced with clear amusement. Even if it was at his expense. He wouldn't ask what the reason was, but he felt happy he made you feel better.

"Thank you, Steve," you muttered before you parted ways. Somehow both of you understood that it was more than just for the drink.

You promised yourself then that you would give yourself tonight to weep over your unfortunate romantic feelings. Only for tonight. Come morning you would focus all your energy on what you actually came here to do; become an Avenger. You slept fitfully that night, the shell casing from your first mission still gripped in your hand.

You made a conscious effort after that day to limit your interactions with Bucky and Kim to polite clipped conversations. At first Bucky had been surprised at your change in attitude, your blank expression and sparse words causing a momentary guilt to flash in his eyes. You had chosen instead to spend more time with Steve and the twins, your mood obviously brighter around them.

You were sitting now in a large conference room for a briefing on the next mission with a handful of other recruits when Sam Wilson sent you out to fetch the rest of the Avengers who were running late and not responding.

"Can you get them for me, sweetheart?" he chuckled, knowing that you blushed uncontrollably each time he used a nickname on you.

FRIDAY had directed you to the private common room exclusive for their use. You were about to knock on the door when you heard your name in the middle of what sounded like a heated argument. Against your better judgement, you leaned in closer.

"I don't think Y/N's cut out to be part of this team."

Your heart dropped. The conviction in Bucky's voice was clear. It was one thing for your infatuation with him to be forcefully thrown back at your face, but for him to explicitly state to a set of people that you held at such high esteem that you were not good enough was a whole other vicious heartbreak.

Lily was wrong. This time you should have known when to quit.

You forced yourself to crack the door wider and step inside, clearing your throat to announce your presence. You didn't see the startled look on their faces or the guilty one that followed when they realized that you had heard. One look at your sad glistening eyes that refused to look up confirmed it. Natasha and Steve both threw Bucky a deadly glare.

"Sam wants you all at a briefing. I was sent to come get you."

Your voice was so small and unsteady, none of the easy happiness and optimistic determination that it usually carried. Bucky felt the shame burn through him, the guilt drowning him in an instant. You weren't supposed to hear that. He took a step towards you, instinct driving him to do anything to wipe that defeated look off your face, but a threatening look from the twins pinned him in place.

"We'll walk back with you, little star," Pietro said softly, appearing beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Wanda came on the other side, looping your arm with hers.

For the rest of the briefing, you strained with the effort of focusing on Sam while blatantly ignoring Bucky. You knew he was staring a hole at the back of your head, but you couldn't allow yourself to give him any satisfaction by looking back. You were soon assigned your tasks, you being placed on sniper duty again having performed well the last time.

It was supposed to be a run of the mill mission for intel and taking out a criminal base, but with the expectation of more hostiles so a slightly bigger team was necessary. You practically flew out of the room when you were dismissed, not giving anyone a chance to talk to you. A decision was solid in your mind now for when you got back.

This would be your last mission.

The ride on the jet to the location was spent with you cleaning your gear and checking your weapons. You were sliding a few knives in place when Bucky came in front of you holding out another set of knives for you to take.

"You know if you tilt the hilt to the left you can fit more in one holster," he said.

It was odd hearing him with almost warmth in his tone toward you. If it had happened yesterday, you probably would be celebrating this fact. You nodded at him, but didn't say a word.

"Remember to keep your head low and stay on your post. Okay, doll?"

You nodded wordlessly again. Because you made a point not to look at his face, you missed the way he was struggling to say more to you and the disheartened look when you obviously weren't going to answer him. You ignored him for the rest of the ride, choosing to focus on reviewing the intel.

As far as bad intel could go, this had to be the worst. You were perched up on a densely covered hill a good distance away from the base that the rest of the team were storming. You were picking off as many hostiles coming out of the base as quick as your hands would allow. Your fingers were starting to ache from the constant reloading, your eyes stung from the gunpowder, and your lip was already bleeding from biting down on it.

The noise in the comms was pure mayhem. Each team member trying to ask for help, for backup, for a plan. You had all come expecting a fight but not an army prepared to defend. You were certainly not expecting HYDRA.

"They have Bucky."

Three words spoken that sent a cold dread to wash over all of you. HYDRA couldn't be allowed to take Bucky. You abandoned your post without a second thought and sprinted down toward the base, pistols at the ready for anyone coming your way.

"Last location," you asked urgently as you slipped into the building shooting down two agents immediately.

"West wing. Near the last corridor," Steve grunted, clearly having a hard time on his end. "Y/N, do not engage!"

"I'm the closest one, Cap."

"I'm close too. Just a little busy," Natasha huffed. "I'll follow, Y/N. Steve, we need to get the hell out of here."

Steve had reluctantly agreed, seeing that there was no other choice. He quickly barked orders and commanded you to keep safe. You nodded although he couldn't see it as you wove through the corridors at full speed in search of your teammate. The moment you barged into that last room, your eyes found an unconscious Bucky immediately.

Seeing him in that chair horrified you; shirt ripped, bleeding in several areas, skin pale and cold with sweat, chest rising and falling far too rapidly, and eyes that were unresponsive. You were so distracted by the jarring image that you failed to notice the operatives across the room until the bullets were burning through your soft flesh.

You screamed from the pain, but raised your gun and fired back until you heard their bodies thud heavily on the floor. You clutched at your side, the amount of wet blood pouring out was alarming. You pushed your own welfare aside and hurriedly undid Bucky's restraints. It was a struggle to sit up a semi-conscious super soldier and when you took his weight on your shoulders, you collapsed to the floor at the intense pain in your arm. You hadn't realized that you had multiple shots there too.

You gritted your teeth and groaned at the effort of lifting you both up, your blood soaking through your gear as well as Bucky's. You huffed painfully with each step but you just had to get him out of there. You could have kissed Natasha square in the mouth when you saw her come barreling towards you.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N!" she winced at your state before taking Bucky's other side. Apparently you looked as bad as you felt. "We gotta move fast. I hear more of them coming up this way. This path is clear."

Having Natasha's help in carrying Bucky alleviated some of the burden from you and made you all move faster, but the blood loss was already starting to make your vision blurry and the adrenaline was wearing off. Through the haze, you could also hear the rapidly approaching footsteps. Soon you would be basically useless and you knew there was no way Natasha could carry you both out while fighting off a hoard of enemies.

"Natasha," you said quietly, your steps faltering.

"No. Keep going goddamn it!" Natasha cried.

She knew what you were thinking. She had assessed the situation too and come to the same miserable conclusion. You smiled sadly at her angry eyes and shaking head as you let go of your hold on Bucky. Her eyes widened further as you limped toward the doors behind you and locked them tight before raising your guns to aim right at anyone who would come through them.

She didn't miss how your hands were shaking and your shot arm could barely hold up, the way you scowled deeper in pain with each movement, or how your uniform was soaked in your own blood and slowly forming a pool at your feet. Ghastly as you looked, you turned your head and tossed her another gentle smile. You were basically going to use yourself as a human shield for them and yet you were comforting her. You were reassuring her.

"Check on my sister for me, yeah?"

Natasha wanted to insist on another plan. Anything other than leave you behind to hold off the nearing enemy units. Shouting and gunfire from the other side of the door forced her to make a decision. She cursed sharply under her breath and dragged Bucky away with her, the regret heavy on her heart for having to leave you behind.

You stepped further back and supported your weak body against the wall after Natasha had thankfully left. The enemy was trying their hardest to barge through the door, ramming into it and shooting their guns at the locks. It wouldn't be long now before they manage to breach it.

You took a moment to spare a thought for your sister. A part of you was saddened to think of her grief after she finds out that you had done the most heroic thing anyone could ever do.

Sacrifice.

Another part of you was relieved knowing that she had Jill and she wouldn't be alone in that grief. When you decided this morning that this would be your last mission, you didn't necessarily expect it to be in this way.

"I'm sorry, Lily."

Natasha managed to get Bucky back to the jet where the rest of the team were all converging, still fighting off operatives chasing after them. There just didn't seem to be any end to them.

"I'm going back for Y/N!" she yelled to the team as she dropped Bucky on the floor of the jet. There was no time to be gentle, she had to hurry back to help you out.

"What do you mean? Where the hell is Y/N, Nat?" Steve shouted as he grabbed her arm.

"She stayed behind to hold off the ones chasing us so we could get out. I have to go back!"

"I will go. I can get her out," Pietro volunteered at once but he doubled over immediately from the extensive wounds on his torso.

Natasha was already sprinting back into the compound, not willing to waste another minute. She made it only a few feet before the entire facility exploded into a fiery inferno that quickly ravaged it and threw her farther back.

The entire team watched in horror as the explosions continued on several parts of the structure. The area was quickly getting engulfed by the flames and smoke. Steve had to force everyone onto the jet and bodily carry a shell shocked Natasha.

No one could have possibly survived that.

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

Natasha steadied her breath as she quietly landed on a perch high above in the rafters of a seedy warehouse. Wanda joined her seconds later, weaving her magic to better cloak them. The other twin was running a lap around the perimeter and would join them later.

She was assigned weird missions all the time. Missions that had very little to doubtful intel was common. This mission though was by far the strangest she's ever gotten. There was a very small list of vague things that were told to them; the time and location, not to intervene, to remain unseen until the target was ready, bring the target to the Compound.

She was slightly annoyed, but she complied anyway. She was curious too as the mission was given in secret to only the three of them. A million questions was speeding through her mind as she observed the activity below. It looked like a regular run of the mill drug den filled with busy workers and roving guards.

"How many, Wanda?" Natasha whispered.

"I sense more than 25 of them. All armed, but with much fear."

A gust of wind signaled the return of the other twin. He had a frown on his face and a concerned look in his eyes. "There is another one, but this one does not seem to be with them."

Natasha was starting to sincerely doubt this mission when a fast movement from the shadows caught her eye. By the way the twins perked up too, they surely had seen it. They followed the figure as it slipped through the darkness, almost losing track if they hadn't noticed that the guards were quickly dwindling in number. Natasha was growing worried, this was surely a highly skilled group of assassins. Pietro must have been mistaken. They were clean and efficient too.

All of a sudden a gunfight broke out below them. A figure completely clad in black, strolled casually out from the shadows with a pistol in each hand firing precisely at their targets. They confidently charged closer, unfazed as they greeted the gunfire. They continued to tear viciously through the crowd with a deadly mix of combat, bullets, and blades. 

The workers had drawn their weapons by now as well, but they were quickly killed off with barbaric aggression. It did not take long for the floor below to become a sea of blood and lifeless bodies. One person remained barely alive, hanging on to his middle to keep his internal organs from spilling out from the wide gash. The attacker came to him, nonchalantly stepping over decimated bodies. They couldn't hear what was exchanged from this distance, only the choked scream that followed as he was stabbed straight through the throat. His blood spurting out like a broken faucet.

Natasha had been in this profession for a while, but she has never seen this level of unrestrained violence.

One person.

One single person had cleared out a base of approximately 30 people. Natasha was growing more and more worried. Clearly this person was at the very least an enhanced and even with the twins with her, they were not prepared to face someone powered.

What kind of bloodthirsty lunatic does this?

"You can come down now."

All three of them froze in place. Looking down, the attacker was staring right at them with cloaked eyes. Reluctantly and very slowly, Wanda used her powers to float them down carefully keeping a good distance from this murderer.

From this close they could now see that they were in full military tactical gear in what was originally all matte black, but now had an explosion of dripping red. Combat boots, fitted cargo pants, a long sleeved shirt underneath a tight bulletproof vest, gloves, a loose hood over their head, and a cloth mask around the lower half of their face.

"Should have known something was up when my team mentioned seeing a really fast man."

The shivers that travelled through every expanse of skin on Natasha, was a reaction to that voice. It sounded strangely familiar yet unknown, but something in her mind was denying her from piecing it together. The moment the hood was dropped to reveal their eyes was when she spiraled into a complete icy shock. They were eyes that had haunted her for the past ten years. Haunted all of them. The only difference was that the eyes in her memories were smiling warmly.

The bloodied face mask was lowered to reveal a face they mourned, unmistakable and yet completely different. White raised scars branched out like weaving vines from the right side of the neck to just above the jaw and the ears. They were obviously old and healed but still raised and prominent, adding an even more dangerous edge to the menacing look on their face.

Your face.

"Hello, Natasha. Pietro. Wanda."

10 years after they had watched you tragically perish in a burning HYDRA facility, you stood before three of a group of people you had unknowingly tormented all these years.

The earpiece you wore crackled to life. "Blackbird to Hedwig. I have a visual. Should I shoot them?"

You smirked. There was no need for that. At least not right now.

"Hey, Blackbird. Tell Raven I'll be late for dinner. I have a reunion to get to."

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

A/N: Tell me which pairing or combination in this harem you’re most looking forward to. Smut or otherwise. I’m still rearranging scenes and working out smut. There is a long list of kinks. I need help.

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[seriouslysnape]

To the Limit

__

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Slight smut. Use of safeword. Language.

Request: Hi! Can u make Severus × Reader when the reader use the safe words for the first time because idk maybe it's too much for the reader that day or smth else you like..Thankyouu 💕💕 love ur writings btw ❤❤

A/N: Here we gooooooo. Reminder, everything is consensual.

Word Count: 2,947

“Okay, darling. Whatever you want.”

__

Severus has always been flexible in the bedroom. Yes, Severus Snape is versatile in the sheets and has more love making skills than you originally would’ve given him credit for. Sex with Severus can range anywhere from slow and careful where praising your body is his main objective, to fucking you so mercilessly that stars are dotting the back of your eyelids with each hard thrust.

Sometimes, you don’t have to establish what kind of theme your sessions will take on. If Severus comes home angry from a long, obnoxious day then you very well know that a rough fucking will get it out of his system. When you’ve just watched one of your favorite romantic drama Muggle movies that have sent you into tears, he knows that something more unhurried is in order so you are reminded of how much he loves you.

Other times though, there isn’t really anything that determines the kind of sex you’ll be having. If the mood is right for both of you, then you often will just figure it out from there. 

Severus’ return on Friday night from a long week of classes was coated with his desire for you. You could practically feel the hard sexual tension radiating off of his whole being. From the moment he walked in the door, you knew what tonight would hold for the both of you. More than likely, it’d be a whole lot of rutted fucking and orgasms until neither of you had any stamina left to give. Normally, a seed of excitement would be planted and begin to grow in your core at the thought of being touched by him, but you didn’t feel it this time. 

It had been a bad week to put it simply. Work was weighing you down and you had taken more hits than you were used to in a five day time period. Exhaustion had riddled you, and stress has gotten the best of you. Emotional breakdown was the only way you could describe how you were feeling. You really weren’t feeling up to what Severus wanted to do. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him when his hands and lips were on you, moving to all his favorite places on you.

His voice was silky smooth in your ears as he uplifted you with how he had been thinking about you all day, and how he wanted to be with you when you weren’t around. It wasn’t Severus’ fault that you had a bad week, and it surely wasn’t all his fault that he was this turned on. The way he gripped your legs with his strong hands was an indicator that he wanted to go well into the night, which your tired state wasn’t a fan of. But you loved Severus, and you always wanted him to be happy and well pleased. So you figured you could handle a couple of coarse rounds to satisfy him.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Once access was granted, Severus leapt onto you without hesitation. A tornado of clothes being removed whirled around the room, your shirt and pants ended up on complete opposite sides of the room. Hot and unruly kisses were shared, marks were left on your necks, and no part of you went unattended. 

Admittedly, the first orgasm was actually enjoyable. Severus’ fingers were knuckle deep in your needy cunt and pumping vigorously as he found all the best spots. The strenuous activity melted some of the week’s stress from your conscience, your mind being stripped of all your worry as it clouded with ecstasy. Severus thrived off of the moans and noises of delight that he was drawing out of your throat, perfecting his movements to give you an even stronger release. Severus worked you to your finish as you came around his fingers, slicking them with arousal and relief. 

He left lazy kisses over your breasts while you took a moment to recover, preparing yourself for the next round that was undoubtedly on its way. Tiredness had plagued you long before Severus had even walked through the door, and you had suddenly been robbed of even more energy, so you were confident that you might not get a proper orgasm this second time. But the moment Severus slid you onto his dick and stretched your walls the way only he knew how to, you knew that you were going to cum whether you felt like you could handle it or not.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You loved seeing Severus so enraptured in waves of pleasure and gratification, but you were beyond fatigued. Still, you bounced up and down on his lap over and over again, your already sensitive clit throbbing with each rub of his fingers. Severus’ other hand guided your hip movements to meet the way he thrusted up into you, hitting your g-spot just right.

When you came this time, your sound of release was more of a strained cry than a content sound. Severus didn’t seem to notice, since he was too focused on the intoxicating feeling of filling you with his own finish. You popped off of him before he was even emptied out, the rest of his fluids landing on your inner thighs. You fell onto the bed next to him, your breathing much heavier than usual. 

You were totally tuckered out with absolutely no hope of another round. Your muscles ached and your bones were wiped out. Although, you felt a queasy feeling of despair when you saw that familiar look of lust in Severus’ eyes. He spoke lowly, his voice echoing in your ringing ears.

“I’m not through with you yet, love.” He purred.

Usually that would’ve sent a whole mess of arousal through you, but you were too worn out. But Severus usually didn’t last more than three rounds, so this would for sure be the last one. You thought you could push through so he could at least get his release, but this third go round wasn’t a good feeling for you at all.

With your arms above your head and the pillowcase below your head in your fingers’ death grip, you turned your head to the side to fight through his persistent hard fucking into you. On a better day, you’d be all over this and relishing every moment. But now your eyes were screwed tightly shut in discomfort, for each time you opened them Severus would only be able to see the whites of your eyes. The thumping heartbeat in your ears was deafening and your entire body was stiff and rigid, but not in a good way. You wanted to tough it out so at least Severus could finish, but it was just too much for you tonight. 

You had to tap out.

“Polyjuice!” You squeaked out, your voice raspy.

In an instant, you saw any expression of lust wiped straight from his face. He pulled out the millisecond that the word registered in his head, his face stricken with worry and concern at the first time use of your agreed safe word. Severus’ heart dropped at your whimpers of displeasure, his brain reeling and raking over what had gone wrong. 

“[Y/N], what’s wrong? What happened?” He asked frantically.

“I-I just...”

Shaky breaths and uncomfortable whines were the only noises you could seem to make. You sat up from where you were laying down, bringing your knees to your chest and hiding your face as you began to cry. Your emotions were all over the place, and it didn’t help that you were overstimulated and overworked. Severus went to pull you to him, but withdrew his hand. Upsetting you further would absolutely crush him, but he needed to know that you were okay.

“Can I touch you, darling?” He whispered out.

The yowl of approval was enough for him to feel fine with carefully wrapping his hand under your arm and dragging you across the mattress to where he was kneeling on the middle of the bed. He pulled the covers over your skin to keep you from getting cold from the loss of heat from being active. You buried your head into his bare chest, your tears leaking and falling down his skin. 

“I’m sorry, Sev. I’m really sorry.” You sobbed, your hair sticking to your sweaty skin.

“No, no, no. Don’t ever be sorry for telling me to stop when you’re not comfortable,” He reassured; “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

The shake of your head brought relief upon him, but he was still worried. He rocked you in his arms until your sobs died down enough to where you were coherent. Severus was getting ready to ask you once more what was wrong, shifting you so he could see your face. When moving you, his hand accidentally brushed against your swollen, sensitive clit and you wailed out pathetically. Severus’ pale face went even whiter.

“Oh, my love...I worked you too hard, didn’t I?” He queried.

Severus would always admit that sometimes he’d get into the zone and completely drown everything else out. He wouldn’t really be able to tell how hard he was pulling in and out. It was rare, but from time to time you’d have to ask him to soften his thrusts or slow his pace when he got too rowdy. But you had never asked him to stop completely until now. He feared that he had seriously pushed you over the edge this time.

“It’s not just that.” You confessed with a sniff.

Severus had drawn your head back to gaze into your bleary eyes. The tear tracks being swiped away with his thumbs as he cradled your face. 

“What is it then, sweetheart?” He asked with wonder.

A fresh set of salty tears pooled and fell down your cheeks, but for a different reason.

“I’ve had a horrible week. Nothing has gone right,” You explained croakily; “I wanted to make you feel good and I thought it might make me feel better...but I’m just exhausted and I couldn’t handle it tonight.”

You fell apart into another set of choking sobs and gut wrenching cries, prompting Severus to bring you back into his chest. He stroked your skin and left kisses so light that they were ghostly. 

“It’s alright, angel. I wish you had told me before that you weren’t feeling up to it,” He consoled; “You’re worth so much more than sex. I want you to tell me sooner next time if you’re uncomfortable.”

Your nod of understanding offered a wash of comfort over him that you were calming down steadily. He hated that this happened. He knew that was the whole reason for your established safe word for when things went south or things got dicey. He just never thought you’d ever have to use it. He felt absolutely terrible. 

“I’m sorry, Sevvy. I really wanted you to get off, I just-”

“Please don’t apologize for this. This is my fault. I should’ve seen how tired you were and how I was being overly hard,” He said; “I’m the one that should be sorry.”

The sniffles from your nose had increased as you tried to flush down all the drainage from your crying. Your tears had stopped as you sat up from his body, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. The red blotches in your puffy eyes were pinging at Severus’ already guilty conscience. He saw the littered hickeys across your neck and breasts, and how your lips were swollen from his severe kisses. He had rocked your burnt out body to the max.

“I’ll tell you what. How about we go get cleaned up, and then we can get into bed. Then you can tell me about your week if so wish.” He suggested, cautiously guiding you off of the bed.

“I think I just want to get a bath and get some sleep.” You said, barely able to stand on your wobbly legs.

“Okay, darling. Whatever you want.” He smiled softly, hoping it’d offer you some kind of solace. 

Severus ran you a hot bath, filling it with all of your favorite scents and smells. Your stance was still despite your shaking legs, and you seemed to be staring off into an endless trance. You slipped into the tub when it was ready, sinking down just below your nose under the bubbles. Normally, Severus would be sitting across from you or you’d be snuggled up on his lap, but he wanted you to have some space for a bit. You were honestly too tired to object. 

He simply casted a charm to freshen himself up, finding and selecting his favorite pair of sweatpants and soft shirt for you to change into. Your eyes were closed, and you had just begun to drift off to sleep when he re-entered the bathroom, changed into some casual day time wear, despite how late it was.

“Here are some clean clothes for you, pretty girl.” He remarked, setting the folded sweats and shirt on the end of the tub for you to get when you got out.

You only gave a light nod as a response, your eyes following him as he stood awkwardly. He was unsure of what to do for you now. He thought that you might want the bedroom to yourself for the night, which was fine because he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing he had pushed you so hard anyway. He placed himself on the floor by the tub, sitting with his legs criss crossed over one another. It was quiet in the room, the only sounds were the occasional gentle splash when you moved your leg or arm. His eyes were still full of worry, and he was kicking himself big time now.

“I’m so sorry...” He breathed out, running his fingertips dragging leisurely your damp arm that you had resting on the ledge of the bathtub; “I never meant to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, Sev. I promise.” You responded, wishing he wouldn’t take this so hard.

When it came to you, Severus took everything to heart. There weren’t many things in the world that made his heart beat with a purpose. You were the single person that allowed him to want to get up in the mornings. The thought of hurting you was enough to break him down. If he could have it his way, you would be indescribably happy with every passing moment of every day. He never wanted you to feel anything other than joy. 

But he knew that life would never allow it.

Your eyebrows dipped when you noticed his attire, wondering why he wasn’t in his own sleepwear. It was much too late for him to go anywhere.

“Where are you going?” You questioned, your voice thick with weary.

“I’m going to go back to the school. I have some grading to do.” He half-lied.

It was true that he did indeed have a stack of papers to be assessed, but that wasn’t the real reason why he felt like he wanted to leave. Severus Snape grading on a Friday night when he had the opportunity to be cuddled up with his lover? He’d choose you every time.

Now you felt bad for causing him to scurry off. You wanted him there with you regardless of what had happened.

“Severus,” You called out tenderly, reaching for his face; “I don’t want you to leave.” 

A genuine look of doubt flashed over his features as his head lulled into your hand.

“I think it would be best if you got some good sleep tonight. I’ll just be in my office so if-”

“Stay with me. Please?” You requested, the thought of sleeping without him was disheartening.

A sigh of awe expelled from his chest. He couldn’t say no to your puppy eyes and slightly pouting lower lip.

“Okay, okay.” He agreed.

“I think that some boyfriend snuggles will make me feel a whole lot better.” You spoke rather cheekily.

He hummed affirmatively. The sound of nestling up with you was impossible to turn down. He took your hand from his face and kissed your palm gingerly, holding the warm skin to his lips for a brief moment. He eventually stood from the floor, but stopped when you held your arms up.

“Help me up?” You asked with the first genuine smile of the evening.

He chuckled, obliging and lifting you effortlessly from the tub. The warm towel was heavenly as you dried off, changing into the clothes that Severus had left for you. Severus went and changed as well, laughing to himself when he exited the closet to see you already curled up. 

The sheets draped over him easily when he laid next to you, waiting for you to nuzzle up to him. He held you close and flush to him, thanking his lucky stars that you were okay.

“My sweet girl...” He hushed out, noting that you were just seconds away from falling asleep; “I love you.” 

You mumbled out a sleepy “I love you” in return before drifting into a deep slumber to snooze off the night’s drama. Severus, as expected, didn’t sleep much that night to ensure that you were sleeping soundly and comfortably. He still felt dreadful, even after you had told him over and over that he didn’t hurt you. The weekend to follow was filled with Severus doting and cherishing over you every chance that he had, trying to make up for what had happened. You were the light of his life after all.

And he prayed that he’d never see that flame go out.

[aminiatureworld]

Return to Me

Characters: Albedo, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,538

Warnings: Violence, Minor villain death

Premise: What is it like when the one you most adore becomes a stranger? And how’re you supposed to pick up the pieces?

In which the reader loses their memory.

Author’s Note: Just a note that this is not how actual amnesia works, and if you’re experiencing memory loss please contact your doctor.

That being said the amnesia is really good for angst and pining so how could I resist? It’s one of those guilty pleasure tropes I like to read and think of so I hope I did it justice.

Albedo

Albedo loved two things in this world, alchemy and you. They were what kept him centered, what kept him sharp and curious and full of life. So how could it be that one of those things should cause him such great unhappiness, and that said unhappiness should be the other’s suffering?

It had been a dangerous experiment, from the beginning Albedo was well aware of that. Testing whether or not elemental energy contained traces of elements via water could yield incredibly useful results about magic’s interaction with the ordinary world. But it could also backfire massively. Noxious gases, explosions, anything was possible.

But he’d thought he was prepared. After all you two had hiked all the way to the edges of Windrise specifically so no one would be around, and Albedo had even put up a barrier with the express intention of keeping anyone from getting hurt. It should’ve been fine, everything should’ve been fine, and yet when the Electro Slime condensate hit the water and the explosion knocked you both off your feet, slamming into the ground three meters from where you’d originated, he could only wonder how things had gone so wrong.

Picking himself up after a few agonizing seconds, every bone and muscle in his body stiff and aching from the sudden impact, Albedo crawled over to where you lay. To his horror you appeared to have hit a rock, and your head was bleeding slightly. Cupping your face in his hands the alchemist rasped out your name. The relief he felt when you opened your eyes was only momentary, replaced by shock and a sense of utter emptiness when you made out a groggy: “Who are you?”

Electro slime elements appear to contain no small amount of Chlorine, which, combined with only the hydrogen as a result of the electricity splitting the water molecules apart, caused an explosion. Although normally Albedo might’ve been thrilled by the discovery of an element only found mixed in the natural world, now he could only look upon that experiment with a raw sort of hatred that he hadn’t known he’d possessed. The ice around the alchemist’s heart had been burned away, and now all that remained was a burnt and shriveled up little thing, determined to make up for the lack of emotions by throwing its owner into the pits of despair.

Albedo spent all his time at first in the hospital and then in the apartment you two shared. You’d made an offhanded remark about how empty it looked, and Albedo had smiled awkwardly, not having the heart to tell you he could barely look at a piece of science equipment without a deep sense of loss. The doctors had said the effects should fade with time, but Albedo knew that there had been magic in the air, and a sick, twisted part of himself jeered that he was holding onto false hope.

It didn’t help that Albedo had been absolutely unprepared for the reality in which you couldn’t remember a thing about him, or your relationship. Never again would you rush up to him as you had before, excitement in your eyes and questions in your head. Memories of gathering crystal flies in the sunset and staying up all night, notes on old ruins swapped with sweet kisses and phrases that meant nothing at all, the beach where Albedo had sketched you for the first time and you had given him your first gift, all that was nothing to you, the stories of a stranger told by another.

“The first gift you gave me was a flower preserved in a solution of Cryo.” You said, words awkward and unsure in your mouth. Albedo knew that you weren’t really remembering it.

“That’s right,” he replied, voice light and calm, trying desperately to keep the despair from showing on his face. “It was a Cecilia. You said that it looked as if it was made of snow.”

“It sounds beautiful,” you replied, speaking more to yourself than to him, “I wish I could remember it.”

“You will someday, I’m sure of it.” He smiled, but the movement felt like too much effort to keep up and soon his face collapsed once more into an expression of melancholy. As if noticing this you smiled slightly in turn.

“Does it still exist?”

“Yes,” Albedo gazed out the window that faced you two. Beyond the buildings, only a few streets away lay his laboratory, locked away and gathering dust, “it does, but I cannot get it right now.”

“Oh,” you seemed at a loss for words, glancing down towards your hands, “that’s alright. I’d rather remember it on my own anyways.”

Albedo said nothing to this. Moving to place his hand on yours he paused. He was a stranger to you. This little act of comfort, all the little gestures he’d gotten so used to were now impossible. Dropping his hand to his side he moved to get you a glass of water, desperately trying to ignore the pain burning in his chest and in his heart.

_____

“Are these yours?”

Albedo placed the bag of groceries he’d just gotten on the floor. Moving over to where you were sitting, you were taking a break from adventuring until you remembered more, a decision made by the doctors for fear you’d forgotten how to control your vision. You had recently moved on from mostly sleeping to exploring your once familiar home, and now you sat curled on the couch; in your lap was a familiar book. Leaning over Albedo glanced at the page you were on.

“Yes, they’re mine. I like to sketch in my free time.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, running your hand reverently over the slightly stained page, “I can see the different shades in the mountain, even if it’s only a pencil drawing.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Albedo smiled to himself, the memory of that day offering him some solace, “it was quite a difficult thing to draw.”

“It had an odd name.” You scrunched your nose slightly in concentration, an expression so cute Albedo could help but let out a huff of bittersweet laughter.

“Dragonspine. That’s the name of the mountain.” Turning to put the groceries away he paused when you spoke once more.

“No. That wasn’t it. It was something else. V-Vida something.” Albedo watched, incoherent thoughts and emotions clouding his mind as you retraced the circles you’d been making on the page beforehand. Suddenly your fingers stopped and you looked up. “Vindagnyr, yes that’s it! There’s a fortress up there, a, what did you tell me they were called, a domain. And that’s the name of it.” You closed your eyes once more. “Something happened there, something to do with you. I can’t remember it, if I was there or if you told me about it before, but something’s there. Something important.”

Albedo felt as if he must’ve been dreaming. The same sort of emptiness that had filled him at the beginning of this catastrophe was there, but this time there was something else, the bitter feeling of a hope that he couldn’t be sure of filling his lungs and his mouth. He turned back towards you, teetering forward as he tried to grasp the situation.

“Yes. That’s right. Vindagnyr. The name it had before it was essentially destroyed by Durin. I met the Traveler there, a week before I met you.” He sat down on the chair adjacent to where you were sitting, memories filling his mind. “It was also the first place we performed an experiment together.”

“I’d like to go there again then.” Your face was one of open triumph and excitement, and there was something in your eyes that Albedo thought he might never see again, a sort of recognition that he thought had been lost, “I know you haven’t been to your work once. I suppose it would make sense, considering what happened, but would you take me there?”

“Of course.” Albedo’s voice was sure and solid.

“Even though I might not remember more.”

“Even then.”

You reached your hand out to the alchemist, and after a second Albedo took it. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand slightly, and you made no move to withdraw, instead squeezing his palm slightly.

You had remembered something. It wasn’t everything of course, and there was no guarantee that there wouldn’t be heartbreak up ahead, wouldn’t be frustration and sorrow and moments when hope seemed very far away. But as long as moments like this existed, Albedo could hang on. The anger and despair that had burned inside him remained, but now something stronger resided there.

And that was hope.

 Scaramouche

“Do you see them?” You whispered, raising your head slightly above the rock you were hiding under. Scowling Scaramouche made a cutting gesture with his hand.

“Yes I see them. And get back down!”

Although his tone of voice was harsher than usual you smiled a smile of understanding as you lowered yourself once more out of sight. Scarmouche took a deep breath in response, trying to control the coiling tension that sat in his stomach. Today’s mission was an unenviable one, made only worse by your presence, for Scaramouche knew these were no ordinary enemies, and though you could take care of yourself just fine there was a nagging in his head that refused to be silenced.

Your targets sat encamped up ahead, completely nondescript in appearance, although that was hardly surprising of deserters of the Fatui, especially ones of such high caliber as them.

Scaramouche’s expression twisted into a scowl of concentration once more as he thought about the moment when you two had received your orders to get rid of those who knew of the dealings of the army of the Tsaritsa, and who were certainly willing to dispose of said secrets for the right price. Although they were no doubt traitors of the worst sort and worth less than dirt, there was still something unpleasant about fighting people who had once been comrades. You’d mused it was because of the bonds of mutual struggle and culture, but Scaramouche suspected for himself it was more the annoyance of fighting people who were at least somewhat trained.

Scaramouche gave the signal and you crept once more out from behind your hiding spot. Manifesting your polearm Scaramouche could already see the well worn metal steaming. This battle was going to be bloody.

At first everything had gone well enough, being hidden on a ledge about the camp you’d managed to do a great deal of damage, made easier by their surprise and ill planned position. However things quickly began to turn sour. The ex-Fatui might not’ve had the equipment of their army days, but they retained the ruthlessness that had once made them so efficient and now made them so dangerous.

There was an odd smell running through the valley, the smell of electricity and something burning. Scaramouche stood in front of a man who had certainly once been a vanguard and a woman who appeared to have been a Cryo mage. Sweat coated their faces but Scarmouche felt cold with the thrill of battle. Electricity crackled to life in his hands and already bits of electricity were dancing on the charred and dinky armor of his enemies. What were they thinking sending a Harbinger against a pathetic group such as this? It was laughable, really.

“Such a pity that members of such an elite force are going to die like dogs.” He drawled. The woman in front of him gritted her teeth, summoning a trail of icicles which Scaramouche easily leapt over. “Is that truly your worth?” He laughed, before the calm that always came with killing washed over him. “Your best is hardly worth my worst.” Gathering electricity, Scaramouche prepared for the final, searing strike.

The man in front of him smiled a sickening sort of smile, the kind that one made only when they knew that it was the end, and then it all went wrong.

The sound of your voice was muffled by the energy approaching Scaramouche from behind, as the outline of a transparent sort of figure clipped his vision. Quickly whirling around Scaramouche was unprepared for the third ex-Fatui member, an agent who had apparently learned his skills well, bearing down on him. Raising his hands, the Harbinger was suddenly thrown aside by an unknown force. Fire made contact with lightning and the ground exploded.

Fighting to retain consciousness Scaramouche was aware of the sickly smell of burning flesh. Blinking away the confusion he glanced at the carnage around him. The agent lay haphazardly, face half obscured by a mass of flesh that must’ve once made him up but now seemed out of place. Behind him the other agents had hardly feared better, and the charred visage of mangled flesh replace what had once been arms, legs, necks. It was an unsettling view, and though Scaramouche couldn’t say it was the worst thing he’d ever seen it still left a vile taste in his mouth. How quickly a fragile little human could come undone, made into that which was unrecognizable.

Finally he fixed his gaze towards you, relieved to find that there was no apparent wounds, although that perspective shifted slightly when viewing your hands, which were covered with welts. Your fire must’ve mixed with his electricity, causing an overload of energy, and you two lying in the eye of the storm. Scaramouche looked at his own hands, and realized they were similarly reddened. Ignoring the pain he shook your shoulder. “Get up.” He let out when you finally opened your eyes.

However it was apparent very quickly that something was wrong. You eyes held no recognition in them, instead they seemed as blank and transparent as a mirror. Looking at him you furrowed your brow slightly.

“Where…” your gaze drifted towards the scraps of humanity around you and then there was nothing but screaming and a wetness on Scaramouche’s cheeks that felt suspiciously like tears.

“You need to get back to work.” Signora’s voice betrayed no sense of pity. Scaramouche was glad for it, he wouldn’t’ve been able to forgive her if there had been.

“I doubt those imbeciles need me for something as simple as the daily regime. If they do it’s their fault, not mine. I owe them nothing.”

“You owe them your work, it’s your duty as a Harbinger,” Signora’s eyes narrowed, “or have you forgotten that in your folly.”

“I’ve forgotten nothing!” Scaramouche snapped, eyes boring into those across from him. “I am well aware of what my obligations are and what they aren’t. As I said there is nothing of importance fir me right now, and I don’t wish to waste away my time with trivial matters.”

“What would our dear Tsarina think of such words,” Signora let out a dramatic sigh. Raising the glass she was drinking from to your lips she paused, “you best be careful. I cannot shelter you from your folly forever. Either you learn how to deal with this… unfortunate incident and your work, or I shall have that person thrown out into the snow.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Scaramouche’s tone was like acid and he felt for the moment as if letting go of himself wasn’t such a crime, for now there was no one to chastise him about it anymore.

“I’m warning you. Don’t forget what happens to those who cannot fulfill their duty to the Tsarina,” Signora paused, a cruel smile gracing her face, “or have you forgotten who caused this in the first place.”

It was all Scaramouche could do not to set the tent ablaze.

“Get. Out.” He commanded. Signora sighed, shaking her head and downing her drink in one go before walking out and leaving Scaramouche with the feeling of falling apart.

_______

“Do you sing?”

Scaramouche lifted his head at the sound of your voice, surprised by the question. You hadn’t said much since the aftermath of the incident, and Scaramouche hadn’t forced you to. After all it was one of the things he’d first appreciated in regards to you, you’d never forced him to talk when he didn’t want to. Now he felt the need to afford you the same courtesy, knowing that intelligence still lay behind those eyes even if recognition had disappeared. Now he put down the document he was reading, smiling wryly and shaking his head.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s what you’re called isn’t it? Your name, one of your names. The… the Balladeer?” You said it as if it was a question, and perhaps it was. Scaramouche couldn’t think however, couldn’t think over the rushing in his ears.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I don’t know. I just heard it. Or I remembered it. But that’s who you are, isn’t it?” You smiled, and for a moment Scaramouche could almost imagine life was as it was before. “Can you sing for me?”

“No.” This conversation had happened before.

“Fine,” you shook your head, “but one day I want you to sing for me, when I remember everything, then I want you to sing for me.”

“Fine.” Scaramouche managed to get out, afraid of the rising emotions he felt, afraid they might break through his voice.

“You’re missing work, aren’t you.” You continued on, gaze piercing through him. “I can tell, I can hear people whispering about it when I go out. I’m not supposed to be here, and you’re supposed to be working. If what you told me really is what happened, you should work.”

“Ridiculous,” Scaramouche scoffed, “I can manage my own affairs. Besides,” his voice grew softer, as if he didn’t want to reveal himself to you. You were too familiar, but still a stranger, and a part of him hid behind the walls he built up around everyone else, the walls only you could climb over. “Besides, who would look after you.”

“I can look after myself.” Your answer was as confident as it had always been. “I have to, since I trust what you’ve told me about myself, about this work, this world.”

“It was you not looking after yourself that lost you your memory!” He was shouting by now, he was shouting but he couldn’t stop because if he stopped shouting he’d be crying.

“Perhaps. But it’s not looking after me to end up like the people we fought. So go to your work. And maybe one day when you come back, I’ll remember.”

He couldn’t say no to you, eventually you won. It had been that way since the beginning, you tearing down his bluffing and his empty promises. Perhaps it was what he appreciated most about you.

Every moment Scaramouche was away from you felt like he was betraying a part of himself, a part he had hid for so long. But you were right, just like before, and just like before you’d won him over with your honesty, your refusal to back down, and your view of the Harbinger for what he truly was, someone who was deep down truly afraid. That part of you remained, somehow without memory and without certainty it remained.

And if that part of you remained, well maybe some day the rest would return.

 Xiao

“Xiao look!” You let out a cry of delight as you threw yourself off the tall stone mountain, glider unfurling in a vibrant waves of color as you began circling in the air. Xiao scowled from the tree in which he was perched, unwilling to humor you in your folly.

“You’re going to be injured.” Although he hadn’t meant for you to hear that you still laughed at the comment, shaking your head as you once more carved shapes into the sky.

“It’s a lovely day for gliding! The air is so fresh and the breeze is just enough to keep you upright!”

“It’s too windy.” Xiao’s voice was flat. This was foolish, what you were doing was foolish. He could feel the currents, feel their laughter, their excitement. They were surely up to no good.

But you weren’t paying attention to that, instead you were gliding about as if you were born to fly. It was a beautiful sight, Xiao had to admit. The beauty of those immersed in what they loved. And what Xiao loved was you.

“Come on Xiao!” You called out. “Come fly with me!”

“No.”

“Oh c’mon, I know you can do it!” Screwing your face into a pout when the adeptus once more shook his head you shrugged. “Your loss.”

Xiao knew you were disappointed, but he couldn’t help it. It seemed somehow out of place for him to join you in whatever you were doing. Besides, he needed to keep track of the currents, just in case.

You dove down for a moment, and Xiao felt his stomach clench, knowing full well what you were doing, but unable to keep the worry out of his mind. And yet then you were flying up, up, up, up and though Xiao wanted to scold you, wanted to tell you to come down once more, he was rapt, in awe. You were too beautiful, and it stole his breath away.

A gust of wind came blowing through the stone monoliths and as your wings buckled and you plummeted towards the ground Xiao found that he was truly unable to breathe at all.

Perhaps it was a blessing that you were unconscious. Then you didn’t have to feel the way Xiao held onto your shoulders as if he’d never let you go, the way he gasped for the air he was supposed to be in charge of, the way his eyes were devoid of everything but fear. You hadn’t fallen so far, he told himself, you hadn’t fallen so far it was fatal. You were breathing, you were going to be fine. But he found himself unable to believe those words. If you had said them he would’ve, but there you were, a crumpled mess and he barely able to process the world around him.

Crashing onto the Inn balcony, not caring about the odd looks thrown his way, Xiao made his way upstairs. You were going to be fine. You were.

If only he could believe himself.

“They’re out of danger now.” Verr Goldet’s voice was calm, unnaturally so, and Xiao only softened a little at the knowledge, sure something had gone wrong. “But…” the innkeeper continued, confirming all of the fears Xiao had been secretly nursing.

“But.”

“But there seems to be a problem with their memory. They were very confused at first, unable to remember things such as Liyue, their duty as adventurer, this place, things like that. At first we thought it would clear, but now it seems that isn’t so. Their memory might be affected for quite a while.”

“I want to see them.” Xiao brushed past Goldet, determined to help you if this was to be your fate. But Goldet’s next words stopped him in his tracks.

“Xiao, they can’t remember you.”

At first there was the feeling of falling. And then, as Xiao vanished, there was nothing.

______

At first Xiao was determined to stay away completely. It hurt too much, hurt to think about what had happened. At first he’d managed to survive on anger, anger at the world, at you not listening to him, at himself for letting it happen. But quickly the anger faded and what replaced it was a loneliness so vast he couldn’t believe that he had managed to survive in such a way before he met you.

Still he didn’t want to go, didn’t want to see you as you were now, unaware of him and perhaps destined to remain so. How cruel fate was. It took everything he knew from him and just when he began to live again it took that to. It took away your memory, your livelihood, and for what? To punish him? It seemed unfair, so unfair.

So he’d stayed away, afraid that something would happened again to you if he were to show himself again. But the knowledge of such emotions as love is something that doesn’t fade, and Xiao found himself unable to continue on as before, finding the pain too great. He had to see you. At least to say goodbye, he had to see you. It would be unfair not to do so.

The moon was full, casting a silvery light on the landscape. Xiao drifted over towards the roof of the Inn, thankful that he was invisible, so as to not have to experience the moment your eyes reached him but you didn’t.

Your silhouette appeared quickly enough in the darkness. You seemed somewhat preoccupied, and yet there was a purpose to your step, made all the more evident by the Qingxin grasped firmly in your hand, a brethren of the other flowers which lay scattered on the railing.

“I know you’re there.” At first Xiao jumped, thinking perhaps you’d somehow managed to sense him. However he calmed down once you continued, it appeared you weren’t truly talking to him.

“I know you’re there. And I wish you’d come back,” You continued, gazing out on the landscape around you. “I don’t remember your name you see. They told me your name of course, but I wish they hadn’t, I wanted to remember it myself. It must be why you left, of course you didn’t want to see me like this. If what they said was true…” you shook your head, “I know it was true. I know that it had to have been true, that I cared for you, that you cared for me. I know because I miss you.” Xiao felt his heart pound in his chest, so loud he could barely hear you.

“I miss you so much. Isn’t that odd? I don’t know you anymore and yet I miss you. It’s as if something is missing. I mean, of course something is missing but it’s more than just the memories themselves. It’s the feeling. Like going outside without a coat on. I miss you, even if I can’t miss you because I can’t remember you I do, I miss you dearly.”

You paused, placing the flower on the railing next to the rest.

“I hope you see the flowers before they fade,” you called out softly to the dark, “and I hope one day I can look at you again. I remember you had such lovely eyes. I’d like to see them again to be sure.”

For a moment Xiao didn’t move, frozen by all he’d heard. But the minute you turned to leave he was already there, bound by the feelings he had for you, by the knowledge that continuing as he had been would kill him, would only hurt you.

“Do you remember me?” It was a silly question to ask, but he had nothing else to say. You turned towards him and smiled softly. It was true, your eyes didn’t recognize him. But there was something in your gaze nonetheless.

“Xiao.” You whispered, and the yaksha knew that he’d never be able to leave again.

[heavenbarnes]

PLEASE STAND BY: Love is strange

Wanda Maximoff x female reader

Warning/Contains: spoilers for “WandaVision”, aspects of mind-control meaning reader isn’t truly consenting, parts of this don’t make sense and are designed to make you feel strange, alcohol, arguments, cheating, kissing, oral sex (f!receiving), some good old fashioned 1950s gender rolls

Word Count: 3.8k

it was a given that i would be writing for wanda, but i never expected to get to do something so exciting, i really hope you all enjoy! it’s going to get sexy, get retro, and get creepy x

MASTERLIST

The day you met Mr. Vision at the end of your driveway, he was on his way to work in the early morning, you’d only spoken to him for a second but he seemed to draw a feeling from you that you hadn’t ever seen around here. He had to be the first man you’d spoken to in a while who wasn’t two-dimensional, he had to be the first neighbor you’d ever actually spoken to.

“We’ve only just moved in, how long have you been here?” He lent against your letterbox where you’d just been checking for mail, you’d seen the postman hanging around but he’d never dropped anything off for you.

“Well,” You thought on it for a moment, face going thoughtful as you tried to draw on the memory of first arriving in this town. “You know sometimes it feels like a lifetime and others it feels like barely any time has passed!”

He shared a chuckle with you, nodding in agreement at how strange a thing like time can be. “You live with your husband?”

“Yes, my husband James, we moved here once he’d returned from service.”

“Ah, and what does he do now?”

Again, your eyes narrowed and lips turned down slightly as you thought over what your husband did in a day. “Well he, you see-”

Thinking of it, your husband wakes in the morning and goes to work, he returns to your home cooked meal and you never really discuss it past that. “I’m not really too sure, he goes to his office and then he comes home.”

Mr. Vision reassures you with a shared chuckle, nodding at how strange a thing like work can be. “Sometimes I feel the same, and I’m the one doing the job!”

“Yes, I’m not too convinced that he doesn’t cease to exist once he leaves our home, at least till he comes back looking for food!”

Your laughter tapered off into sighs of agreement slowly, nodding quietly but both still overcome with even the slightest expressions of confusion, unable to shake that there just might be something you’re both missing.

It seemed to break quickly enough, smiles both back on your faces as you gave Mr. Vision the chance to continue his way to work. He called over his shoulder as he was leaving, “I’m sure my wife would like a new friend, you must go introduce yourself.”

Now, didn’t that sound like a dream.

Every day for you was like the one before and the next, you woke and you tidied and you cooked and went to bed. Sometimes it felt like you were a background character in someone’s life, like they were out doing the fun things you longed for whilst you milled about tending to a rosebush and kissing your husband on the cheek on your front porch.

There were also the, well simply the things you couldn’t explain. The way there was always food in your fridge despite the fact you’d never bought a single grocery, and the way-

The way that- the what? What were you talking about?

You shook your head with a smile, turning back into the house to freshen yourself for a moment. Your hair was perfectly set but you had the urge to tuck a piece behind your ear, straightening the skirt of your dress before going to the kitchen.

Taking some of the biscuits you’d made maybe a day ago, you lay them on a plate, before draping a tea towel across them. Carrying them down the street, you made your way to the Vision residence, gingerly bringing your hand to the door to wrap your knuckles against.

Mrs. Vision would be the first neighbor you really spoke to your whole time being here, what if she was like the others, didn’t wish to make pleasant conversation and enjoy company together. The fear seemed to break quickly enough as the door swung open.

Seeing her, it was like you were on stage and had forgotten your lines, she took all the breath out of your lungs. Round eyes that seemed to sparkle even in a town with the dullest hue, her cheeks drew up as she smiled at you. She looked like, well, a Vision.

“Good morning, can I help?”

Brought back to reality, you offered your plate of biscuits forward as you spoke. “Good morning, I live just down the street and met your husband this morning on his way to work this morning,” You smiled kindly to match her own expression. “So I thought I’d come say hello, Mrs. Vision.”

She stepped aside to allow you the chance to step into her beautiful home. “What a lovely surprise, and please, call me Wanda.”

Wanda was a wonderful host, dipping into the kitchen for a moment before returning with a tray of coffee. “Wow,” You remarked, taking the steaming cup from her hand. “It’s almost like you knew I was coming.”

She dropped an eye into a wink as she made her own cup. “A good housewife is always prepared.”

Wanda made things seem perfect, she made you laugh and she made you feel like you were truly a part of things. This town was lovely, you were very lucky to be where you are but everything did seem to be so black-and-white, like your whole life was written out before you with no chance to change.

You didn’t feel that way around this woman, it was like she was made from that wonderful energy that ran through this town, like she was capable of the change and excitement that you needed.

“Tell me about yourself, you have a husband?”

“Yes, James!” You smiled as you thought of him and all his loveliness. “He provides for us and is a real whizz at fixing the Television set when it gives me jiff.”

Wanda laughed as you took a sip from your coffee, it was the most perfect temperature and so rich as it ran across your tongue. You were beginning to think Wanda held a secret, the secret to being the most perfect housewife.

“And Mr. Vision, he seems really nice?”

She smiled fondly as she thought of her husband. “He is, a really great man, the kind you just couldn’t live without.”

A somewhat strange thing to say but you agreed with her nonetheless, you loved your James with the whole of your heart, you weren’t sure what you’d do if he was plucked from your grasp. Wanda continued, “But even then he does do some very “man” things.”

You gave her a small confused chuckle as she laughed along with you, shrugging her shoulders. “You know how they can be? So oblivious to things!”

Still not quite catching on, eyebrows furrowing just a tad as you implored her to elaborate a bit more. She threw one of her hands in the air, the other still holding her coffee as she spoke, “We could lay across the table in nothing but our shoes and they would still ask if we were putting dinner on it later!”

Your cheeks ran hot at her words, a hand coming to cover your mouth in shock as Wanda just laughed. She had to have been a truly modern woman to come up with things such as those, you couldn’t believe how she spoke, it was so...exciting?

“You know what I mean?” She asked, tilting her head gently.

You shook yours, thinking of your husband fondly. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt, uh, neglected by him-”

Wanda was gently tapping a finger on her coffee cup, the sound being lost at the back of your mind as a thought suddenly overcame you. You most certainly wished your husband was more attentive, it was almost as if he didn’t notice you sometimes. Your tongue moved before you could control it.

“Some nights I think James is more interested in the sports section than he is in me, and I’m right beside him in our bed!” 

You couldn’t believe your own words, how you seemed to forget yourself in that moment. Beginning to apologize profusely, Wanda laid a hand against your own to calm you down. It worked like a treat, the embarrassment fading from you in an instant.

“Men have a way of doing that, don’t they?” She took your coffee and placed it with her own on the table. “Sometimes, we just need a bit of attention.”

Like you had no control over your own mind, you were nodding in agreement. Plucking up the courage to look Wanda in the eye, that heat that had settled in your cheeks had spread across your whole being. She looked so kind, so interested in you, like the only person to really see you this whole time.

The feelings that came over you were unexplainable, you’d felt this way but only looking at your husband, somehow those feelings were rearing their heads every time Wanda moved beside you. It became clear to you that she still hadn’t moved that hand that was resting on your skin, she was still gently holding you and you weren’t doing a thing to stop it.

“Look at us,” Wanda sighed, thumb gently rubbing against your skin. “All this free time on our hands, enough time for attention.”

Your eyes flickered from her touch, to her lips as she spoke. Drawing them up to her eyes, without her saying a word you just knew what she was implying.

“Mr. Vision, he wouldn’t mind?”

“He’s a good man, he wants me happy, I know he wouldn’t mind.”

“My James-”

“He loves you doesn’t he? Wouldn’t want you feeling lonely?”

The feeling of reassurance was warm as it cast over you, wrapped around your shoulders and held you tightly. James would want you happy, making friends, feeling cared for. Something told you that he’d want this for you, he’d be pleased for you.

Nodding gently, Wanda slowly bridged the gap as she lent in towards you. Her lips were so soft as they pressed to the plush of your own. Such a gentle kiss, unrushed with all the time in the world, just perfect. Her tongue nearly moved inside your mouth, but drew back at the last minute, another gentle kiss lay against your lips before she drew back.

“It’s getting late, we should carry this on another time.”

Looking at the clock on her wall, it was already the afternoon, your husband would be home soon and dinner wasn’t even on! You’d sworn you had only been here an hour, but you must’ve let time get away on you.

Wanda showed you to the door, a sweet kiss pressed against your cheek as she said her goodbyes. “I hope I get to see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course you can.” You quietly looked forward to tomorrow already, you didn’t have to say a thing but from the look in her eyes, Wanda knew.

As you placed the meatloaf on the table before James, you sat before him, knife and fork in hand as you felt the urge to tell him about your day. “I made friends with our new neighbors today.”

“I’m really happy for you, doll.” He smiled back at you, taking a single bite of his dinner.

“She really gets me, understands me,” You too took a single bite of the food. “She even gave me quite a lovely kiss.”

James didn’t really react, he placed his cutlery down and smiled kindly. “Did you enjoy it?”

Dabbing your lips with a napkin and pushing your plate forward you nodded. “I really did, I cannot wait to see her tomorrow.”

“That’s great news, my love,” He stood from the table, collecting your plates. “How about we hit the hay, it’s been a long day.”

You were about to nod in agreement before you furrowed your brow for a moment. “Has it?”

James stopped for a second, looking at your almost full plates before back to you. “I- yes, I think it has been.”

You stood from the table and came to press a kiss on your cheek. “Good idea, I’ll go draw back the bed covers.”

-

Sitting in the sunshine with Wanda, they had the most glorious outdoor area, beautiful roses surrounding the space with a cobbled courtyard. You both sipped at the lemonade she’d made earlier as you simply enjoyed each others company. 

That feeling of freedom was back to wash over you, the way she made you feel the most like yourself that you’d felt in some time. Sitting beside her on the lounger, you rolled your head towards her as she spoke, the cat eye sunglasses resting gentle on her button rose making her look like something out of a dream.

Your heart swelled as she spoke of nothing in particular, just happy to be around her and in good company, as she finished her sentence she let out a long draw of breath. Quietly, she took you in for a moment before tilting her glasses down a tad.

“Have you ever been with a woman before?”

“Never, James was my first,” You answered rather quickly before pausing. “I think.”

“Would you like me to show you what it’s like? How lovely it can be?”

You felt no hesitation, no doubt in your mind, you felt the words leaving your lips before Wanda had even finished her question. “Yes, please.”

Joining you on your lounger, she rested between your legs as her lips came to gently press to your own. She tasted of the lemonade and her own sweet taste, the way she moved against your mouth was enough to make you gasp into her mouth.

Her hands moved against your sides, gently tickling you and making just about every hair stand up on end. Wanda’s touch was nearly electric, so tantalizing and so new, unlike anything you’d felt. It was still so gentle and so loving, but there was something about what she knew, like it’d take you years to ever learn to do what she could. Like she was before her time.

Your head swirled with everything surrounding you, the pleasure, the excitement, the unknown. It was such a vulnerable position, laying beneath her as she moved down your body, pushing your skirt up your hips - yet it was almost as if you forgot to feel shame.

Maybe it was Wanda, when you were around her you were unable to feel embarrassment, she made everything feel so easy and so right, like you were always meant to end up here with her. She ran her touch along the skin of your thighs, making your breath jump as she brought her fingers to the high waistband of your underwear.

You allowed her to go wherever you wanted, you felt like you needed her all over you. Wanda was magnetic, pulled you in and captivated every one of your senses until you couldn’t stand it. You ran your hand along the side of her face as she smiled up at you, leaning into your touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” She bared her teeth as she spoke. “I’m so glad to have you here.”

The comment got lost in the air as her mouth lay against your most sensitive area, lips pursing against you as her tongue ran a long line along you. Your head pressed back into the cushions, a quite whimper escaping your lips as her tongue dove between your legs quickly.

Now this was nothing like you’d ever felt, the feeling was consuming, heat rising over your body and not just from the stream of sun that cast over the both of you. Wanda’s mouth worked expertly over you as your whole body tensed against her. She was magic, her mouth was magic, her touch was magic. 

You cooed her name, fingers slotting into her perfectly done hair, seemingly not even messing it a bit as you gently pulled. Wanda moaned against you, tongue diving further into you, trying ardently to pull all sounds and reactions out of you. 

Her hands ran up beneath your clothes, splaying across your belly and moving to the wire of your brassiere. You couldn’t remember the last time James touched you in this way, let alone a time ever where a woman had held you like this.

A woman’s touch was so gentle, it was so careful and so considered that it was enough to make your head spin. Wanda pulled you back in, mouth closing around that sensitive little bud that made your eyes roll back in your head. She suckled just enough to make you mewl, your chest rising so quickly with every ministration.

The feeling took over you so quickly, body locking up tight as she was sure to draw you straight to the edge and drive you crazy on the way there. Your eyes squeezed tight and you gripped Wanda’s shoulders, your mouth opening with a cry as you felt the tight band in your core snap.

She gently worked you down from your high, the flush of heat that had consumed you slowly dissipating as she sat up in front of you. Another sweet kiss against your mouth, gently and lovingly working against your lips.

“We should probably get ready, our men will be home soon.” She winked at you, the both of you giggling quietly to yourselves.

Sitting around the Vision’s dining table, the Steak Diane that Wanda had prepared looked incredibly inviting. James turned to Mr. Vision with a smile, “It’s very kind of you both to invite us to dinner.”

“We had to, after all our wives are getting along swimmingly.” He gestured to yourself and to Wanda, raising his wine glass without taking a sip.

You shared a coy look with Wanda, smiling and raising your brows as she chuckled, before the four of you picked up your cutlery to take a bite of the food. James finished his mouthful, turning to the lady of the house to make polite conversation as he placed his cutlery on his plate. “This was delicious, thank you.”

Agreeing as you finished your own mouthful, laying your napkin on the table, “Truly, Wanda, you are talented!”

She shrugged her shoulders, smiling bashfully as she turned to her husband who hadn’t touched his. “Ah, just one of my little tricks.”

James turned to Mr. Vision with a smile, nodding towards their plates. “What is it with wives and being so talented in the kitchen?”

“You’re absolutely right,” He laughed in agreement before looking to you. “You like to cook?”

“I do rather, I’m forever at the stove making something new.” It was your turn to sport a bashful grin.

“What’s your favorite meal to make? Wanda is always whipping up some incredible creations.”

“I quite like meatloaf, I-” You stopped for a moment, turning slowly to your husband. “I make it every night.”

Unsure of why you’d expressed your love for making “something new”, it dawned on you that you made the same meal every evening without fail. James’ expression seemed to match yours, remembering the dinner that you’d had the night before, and the one before that.

A strange feeling tightened in your chest, unease, a feeling that you weren’t able to shake. You looked to Wanda, and the feeling only grew. You’d never seen her look like that before, it wasn’t a look of anger, but one of discontent.

Quickly turning away from her, you looked between her husband and your own. “I make the same dinner every night.” You repeated, shaking your head slightly.

Mr. Vision looked confused, turning to his wife and furrowing his brow at the look she was casting over the table. He darted back to you, before crossing his gaze to James. Wanda spoke up finally, “Well if that’s your favorite meal, you tend to do that, completely normal.”

She pushed her plate back, lifting her wine glass to her lips as she locked eyes with her husband. “Completely normal.”

“But every night?” Mr. Vision spoke up, eyes flickering back to your visible unease. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m just not feeling my self this moment.” You explained, fiddling with your napkin as your chest still felt just as heavy.

“It’s really okay, nothing to get upset over,” Wanda nearly snapped, just enough control over her voice. “Don’t fuss it, Vis.”

“We do have it every night,” James joined, looking to you with wide eyes. “The same meatloaf, the same sides-”

Wanda cut him off with a curt laugh, “It is just meatloaf, it really doesn’t need this much issue.”

“But, my love, it seems to be affecting them a bit more than-”

“Well, that is only because you won’t leave it alone!”

In the heat of the conversation, you tried to readjust your plate but the action cause your wine glass to tip, the red wine falling and spraying across James’ crisp white shirt.

“Oh my word, I am so sorry, I really have forgotten myself.” You rushed up to dab your napkin against his shirt but it was no use, it was only setting.

“What is going on here, Wanda?” Mr. Vision seemed less fazed about the spill and more about the previous conversation.

“Oh, Vision! Would you please just drop it and get Bucky a damp cloth!”

Your frantic hands stopped in an instant, eyes snapping open wide as your husband’s hand came to wrap around your wrist. Eyes darting up to his, you both shared a look of sudden and unbridled fear.

Slowly turning to look at Wanda, her expression had fallen and that same look of discontent was taking over her. You felt a pressure in your head, right behind your eyes as you looked from her and back to your husband. Realization set in as he gripped tighter onto you.

It was as if you couldn’t move, shouldn’t move. Everything had changed in that moment, this thread of perfect that ran through the whole town had unraveled right in front of you, right across the dinner table.

“Wanda,” You began, voice shaking only slightly despite yourself. “I think you need-”

“No,” She spoke once and it held the air of being final. “No, thank you.” 

James finished his mouthful, turning to the lady of the house to make polite conversation as he placed his cutlery on his plate. “This was delicious, thank you.”

Agreeing as you finished your own mouthful, laying your napkin on the table, “Truly, Wanda, you are talented!”

She shrugged her shoulders, smiling bashfully as she turned to her husband who hadn’t touched his. “Ah, just one of my little tricks.”

-

“Did we get anything?”

“They were close, very close, but the scene seemed to reset itself and now all we have is this.”

The TV glowed bright with a slight crackle against it, the technicolor strips took over the space with a single black strip for the only words on screen. 

“PLEASE STAND BY.”

[hufflepuffsthunderdome]

Hopelessly Devoted to You | R.L

Pairing: Marauders!Remus Lupin x Female Reader

Warnings: None :)

Words: 3,200

Request: @risingtripletaurus​ hi lovey! may i pretty please request a fic with the reader very much in the halloween spirit, celebrating halloween the marauders.. remus and the reader also lowkey have a crush on eachother rEMUS HOPES HE GETS ALL THE CHOCOLATE WHEN TRICK OR TREATING over all just a very fluffy time!

A/N: sorry this is so late, a lot has been happening in my personal life. I hope you enjoy! I took it in a slightly different direction that I hope you like anyway, it’s still a fluffy spooky time so I hope you enjoy. I really like this one :). I also have an idea for a part two so keep an eye out... also I know that Grease technically came out after the Marauders were at Hogwarts, I just thought it was cute anyway.

Summary: Reader and Remus are crushing hard, and what better way than an accidental couples costume and a Halloween party to get the pair together

Y/N and Sirius came bounding through the doors to the Gryffindor common room with so much force Peter grimaced as the walls shook around them. Their hands were loaded with boxes, overflowing with black and orange decorations, cheap spiders and what seems like an insane match of costumes and clothes. It wasn’t even the start of October, but whenever the season rolled around even slight, Y/N and Sirius went all out! For the pair, it seemed that they were built for the season, putting care and thought into their costumes and the treats they would make everyone; their energy infections, getting everyone else in the school hyped for the spooky season months in advance. 

Even Remus let himself loose around the Halloween season, knowing how happy it made Y/N when he would join in on the corny games that she and Sirius worked so hard to make. And he lived to make Y/N happy; to see that goofy smile that she would give him as she looked up at the lanky boy, melting his heart even more around Halloween when she would be dressed in an adorable hand made costume. 

His friends all knew, about Remus’s crush on Y/N. Honestly, it seemed that everyone in the whole school knew that the boy was smitten except Y/N, they just strolled around the castle, unaware of the boys lingering stares and wistful glances. He had a plan though, to change that. Well, Sirius and James had a plan. A plan that he wasn’t privy to despite being a leading role in it. 

Sirius dumped the box onto the couch next to James, who was prying the lid open before it even landed, to pear inside. He pulled out all sorts of different costumes, Y/N’s box joining next to it, Gryffindor written in scratchy writing on the side, full of decorations and gags to put up around the common room. 

“Sirius,” James laughs, pulling out a tight black off the shoulder top, “you’d look great in this mate but it’s a stretch to think it’ll fit you.”

Y/N rolls their eyes, taking it out of James’s hand and holding it up to their smaller frame, “it’s mine you nit.” 

Sirius comes up behind Y/N and slings an arm over her shoulder, “we’re doing a couple’s costume this year.” The pair struck a cheesy Charlie’s angels style pose as they giggle. Remus knows it’s stupid but he can’t help the hot feeling boiling in his stomach at how close Sirius and Y/N are. He knows it’s stupid, he has no reason to be jealous; Sirius knows that Remus likes Y/N, and he knows they’re just friends, but he can’t help it. He wants to be the one to make Y/N laugh, to be able to sling an arm around her without making a fool of himself, to be able to do cute couple costumes that Y/N is excited to make. 

“What are you going as?” Peter’s voice breaks Remus’s train of thought, the shorter boy hanging over the back of the couch to rummage through the box himself. He pulls out a pirate hat and an eyepatch, laughing slightly as he puts them next to him. 

“We’re going as Sandy and Danny from Grease,” Sirius says, shooting James a look that he just returns with a nod, sending me a glance as he smirks slightly. 

“I’m so excited to do it,” Y/N chimes, reaching a hand up to grab onto Sirius’s arm slightly before turning back to us with a wide smile on her face, “It’s that muggle musical I was telling you about, the one set in the 50s. We’re going as the two main characters!”

James gets up from his seat on the couch behind Y/N, walking over to the pair and placing his arms around them, “I thought you were gonna do a costume with me this year Black? We’ve been working on it for months.”

With an exaggerated hand to the forehead, Sirius lets out an exasperated sigh, “shit that’s right James, fuck I’m sorry mate. We’re gonna have to save our amazing surprise costume for next year, I promised Y/N.”

“You guys were working on a costume?” Y/N asks, looking at the boys on either side of her as they nod. Remus can tell she’s slightly upset at the thought of not doing her costume she had planned but is hiding it with her excitement at her friends getting into the holiday. “That’s so cool guys, please do it! I want to see what you guys have planned.”

“But what about your costume?”

“That’s ok,” she smiles warmly back, “I have plenty of other ideas.”

“I feel super bad now,” Sirius brings Y/N into a hug to which the girl giggles and assures him it’s ok. Over Y/N shoulder he shoots Remus a wink, the boys' eyes going wide at the thought of what his friends are up to, “say, Remus is around my size isn’t he?”

All eyes in the room turn to Remus, and he feels his face heat up at the attention, glancing down at his book, “not happening.”

“Come on mate,” Sirius and James chorus, James throwing an arm around Y/N and sarcastically patting their head, adding “you don’t wanna make little Y/N sad do you?”

“Come on guys,” Y/N chuckles, slinking away under James grasp and looking over to Remus, “he doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to.” James and Sirius's glare daggers over Y/N’s shoulder at the boy sitting on the couch, Peter going to say something James shutting him down with a stern look before he can even get a sound out. It seems that the boys are able to have a conversation without saying a single word, ‘dude come on don't be a baby,’ James’s look taunts, Sirius’s glare telling him to not lose his chance. 

“I-I’d love to d-do the costume with you Y/N.” Remus grimaces slightly at his nervous stuttering, grinning at Y/N as they bound over to him excitedly, thanking him as she pulls him into a hug. The boy freezes for a moment, before relaxing in the shorter girls grasp and returning the hug. The pair stood there, enjoying the small moment, for slightly longer than they probably should have; as their friends just looked on smirking and chuckling to themselves as the two teens were so obliviously in love with each other. James coughed obnoxiously, breaking the pair out of their hug as they pulled apart, faces red as they smiled shyly at each other.

“Well I think I need to get going,” Y/N smiled up at the boys, ruffling Peter’s hair slightly as she walked past him, grabbing a box labelled Hufflepuff that she had placed on the floor earlier, “those Hufflepuff’s won't help themselves.” She turns and walks towards the door to the common room, turning back to Remus to smile at him and thank him one last time before she was out the door, and once again on a mission about the castle.

The instant she was gone the common room erupted into cheers, as Sirius and James loudly hollered in excitement for Remus; Peter joining in soon after, confused as to what was happening but feeling left out that he wasn’t involved. Remus however was unamused, arms crossed in front of his chest as he glared at his friends, eyebrow raised as if daring them to speak.

The cheering stopped when Sirius and James noticed Remus’ upset attitude, Peter once again joining in and stopping, mumbling a small what’s happening to Sirius who brushed him off. “Oh come on mate,” James argued, mimicking Remus’ posture but with a smirk plastered on his face, “how are you possibly upset with us?”

Remus was gobsmacked at James’ question, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water as he looked at his friends trying to find the words to convey how stupid they were, “you lied to her that’s how! You got her hopes up when you knew you weren’t going to go with her. And you dragged me into your bullshit once again.”

“Oh come on mate, it’s not like that,” Sirius chimed in, trying to calm the tension forming. Leading Remus over to the couch he sat both of them down, slinging an arm over his shoulder, “besides, she was way more excited at you saying you’d go with her than she was when she brought it up to me in the first place.”

“That’s not true.”

“It so is,” Sirius argued back, “now stop being a fucking baby and grow some balls. It’ll be a great night.”

“If you’ll excuse me, lads,” James mutters, standing up from the seat he was on and heading towards the door, “but I need to catch Lily before she makes it to the library. Anyone joining?”

Sirius gets up and follows James, the pair out the door in an instant; and Peter, who is lagging behind, gets up to follow them, turning to Remus before he leaves, “don’t worry, it’s gonna be a wicked night.”

Remus can't help but chuckle slightly at Peter’s excitement, his head still swirling and his heart still racing, even after his friends leave.

The month was trekking on, October drawing to a close, much slower than Remus and Y/N would have liked. The closer it got to Halloween the more nervous excitement the two teens felt bubbling away. It was noticeable to their friends, as they would talk during break and pass each other in the hallway; both unbelievably ~excited and hopeful that the night would go how they want, and yet nervous. But that didn’t stop Y/N from getting in the festive spirit. She went all out this year, dragging along anyone and everyone that she could convince to help with her preparation. The whole school seemed to know that she was in a particularly festive mood this year, everyone in her year helping where they could, all the first years unbelievably excited over how amazing the castle looked.

As the talented young witch, she was, it was no surprise that Y/N was able to make some pretty amazing decorations. Pumpkins that would follow students around, glasses that made the teachers look like they were dressed up, the orange streamers and plastic spiders that would come to life when you walked past. Everyone was shocked by how all out Y/N was going this year, they knew she was talented, but not this talented. In the back of her mind though, Y/N knew she had to make this year perfect. 

Remus was confused when he walked down the corridors to potions one day, and the school seemed to be buzzing with excitement more than usual. Students everywhere were glancing around in excitement, peering over each other's shoulders to get a glimpse at the parchment they were all holding. As he walked up to potions class, surprisingly early for once, he heard a commotion behind him, and turned and saw Y/N and Sirius walking towards him, students around them clapping and patting them on the back in excitement. They made their way over to Remus, who was stood there seemingly entranced by Y/N. It was like she was glowing with excitement, and he couldn't help the dopy smile on his face at seeing her so happy. 

When the pair got to him Sirius pulled him into a headlock, rustling his hair slightly as he laughed, “we’re superstars we are,” he gleamed, letting go of the boy and putting an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, “everyone loves us.”

“Y/N I can understand people liking, but you?” Remus says, glancing at Y/N quickly to see her face going slightly pink, as he is doing too, at his bold comment. ‘haha lover boy,’ Sirius shoots back, but Remus isn’t listening as Y/N passes him a piece of parchment, notes from last potions class. They both go to say something when the door swings open and they are being summoned inside for class. 

The boys are back in their dorms, late in the evening now, Sirius and James gasbagging about Severus while Peter listens attentively, chewing on a sweet Y/N brought to the common room earlier. Remus is trying to read his herbology textbook, trying to take notes from class today, but his mind continues to wonder. To Y/N, to Halloween, to Sirius and Y/N's friendship, he’s all over the place. As his mind is racing he feels the heat in his shirt pocket start to warm up, shocking him out of his trance as he pulls out the bit of parchment Y/N handed him earlier. He never got a chance to ask her about it, she was being pulled in every direction that day, but as he looks down at the piece of paper, no longer homework but rather an invitation now. He feels his heart start to beat harder in his chest as he turns the sheet over, Y/N’s handwriting littering the page, 

“I’m so glad you decided to come, Remus, I was hoping you would. I can’t wait to see you, I’m really glad we’re doing a costume together.”

That night Remus goes to bed with a huge grin on his face, the happiest he’s felt in ages.

Halloween day comes and goes, much slower than the school would like. The teachers drone on in their usual lessons, their patience running thin at their student's erratic excitement. No one was more excited than Y/N. The second her last class finished she was off, grabbing her friends as she went and dragging everyone to the Ravenclaw common room, where she had made it clear would be open to anyone in dire need of a last-minute costume. In came students of every house and year and out walked clowns, mimes, zombies, princesses, anything and everything they could think of, hidden from the teachers by some simple spells. 

The boys were down at the room of requirements, decorating for the party to come; the room had transformed itself into a huge dance hall, and the boys were doing everything in their power to make it a spooky extravaganza. And they were succeeding. There were jack o'lantern, punch, sweets of every size and shape, every corner of the room decorated with spooky charmed decorations, and every ceiling adorning some spider or streamers. Peter had even thought of the idea to set up a trick or treating scavenger hunt for the younger students (and some of the older students too), so there were plenty of people already coming in and out collecting clues and sweets before they weren’t allowed to be wandering the halls anymore. 

It was immaculate, seeing the room come together because of his friend's hard work, but nothing could describe the awe he felt when Y/N walked in the room. By now there were people flooding in at a regular pace, but when he heard that soft voice call his name and turned to see her, his world seemed to stop. All he could do was stare, she looked gorgeous. Not that he didn't always think she looked gorgeous, but he couldn't help but think how happy she looked, completely encompassed by the holiday spirit. She looked beautiful in her costume, her hair big and curly, and the tight leather trousers and off the shoulder top complimenting her figure perfectly. She held her self with a confidence he had never seen in the girl before, and he was amazed. 

“This is brilliant Remus,” Y/N smiles up at him, grabbing his hand as she looks around, “you guys did an amazing job.”

Remus barely processes her words as his brain is already trying to put together his next sentence, “you look incredible.”

It caught Y/N off guard his compliment, he had never been so earnest and bold with her before, and the sentiment made her blush furiously, “you look great yourself.” The teens stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, when Sirius and James sauntered over to the pair, already on the verge of drunk, and started chiding them “there’s my favourite greaser couple.”

“Don't tell me this is your incredible costume?” 

Sirius was shirtless, a studded leather jacket and black glove the only attempt at a costume, giving him a Billy Idol vibe that both Y/N and Remus didn’t even know was intentional. James was more obviously dressed up, the mouse ears on his head giving him a very distinct, albeit lazy Micky Mouse appearance. They both just shrugged at the girl, going into a tirade of drunken excuses to which Y/N just rolled her eyes, “if it makes you feel better I only did this to match with Lily,” James slurs, “turns out they were lying to me and she's wearing some bloody antlers.”

“Dear god James you’re so thick sometimes,” Y/N shook her head, turning towards Remus, “wanna go dance?”

The pair made their way into the crowds of other people dancing, ignoring James’ shouts of questions. 

The night went on, and the people kept dancing, chatting and spinning and laughing at how much fun they were having; all through the night people would come up and compliment Y/N on the party, and never once did she take full credit, always saying how much other people helped her. As the pair stood there, laughing with their friends as they danced to the ending of the monster mash, it slowly faded and didn't pick up again. A slow song began to play, and Remus looked over to see Sirius playing with the music, James giving him a thumbs up. 

Before Remus can say anything, Y/N is placing his hand on his arm, “wanna dance?” Despite both of their nerves, the pair danced together slowly, Remus’s arms around her waist, and Y/N’s around his shoulders. Both of them wanted to look at each other, to bask in how lovely they each looked but neither wanted to ruin the moment. 

Remus moved his head from where it was resting against Y/Ns, and she moved her head to look up at him, meeting that soft, goofy smile that sent her stomach tingling with butterflies. “you really do look lovely tonight, I’m so glad you asked me to come with you.”

Y/N barely knew what to say to him, it seemed that her body was moving on its own as their heads were slowly moving towards each other. “I’m glad you came with me,” she mumbled back before their lips finally connected. 

What seemed to be years in the making was finally happening, both teens dream coming true as their lips pressed softly together. All at once, Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest, her mind racing at yet somehow, all she could focus on was Remus, and his lips pressed against hers. It seems that the world disappeared around them, as they stood there with each other. Nothing mattered right now except them.

They pulled apart sooner than they wanted to, both could've stayed there for eternity if they had the chance. They looked into each other's eyes, hoping their shared glance could give them all the words they failed to be able to say. It was a nice moment until James’s, Sirius’s and Peter’s hollers broke through the soft ambience of the crowd, everyone looking around confused, some even joining in as Remus and Y/N just laughed slightly at their friends' antics. 

“Do you wanna do Hogsmead with me this weekend?” Y/N asked softly, grinning up at the boy. 

He leaned down to connect their lips again softly, grinning when they pulled apart, “I would love to.”