#i thought it was a given that he starts today since balde is still not available

[messfcbi]

what’s flick’s issue with hector fort 😭😭 how is he not starting instead of martin

[theyumeeighth]

“ᴡᴏᴀʜ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛᴏᴏ?”

Minoru Mineta x Black!Reader

SONG:

Synopsis: The reader and Mineta are best friends with 3 things in common. They're both in love with each other, they both play guitar, and neither of them know that abt the other.

Pronouns: Fem

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: None, just fluff

A/N: Making this bc I can't find ANY on tumblr and I'm OBSESSED with Minoru

My fanfics are not bald friendly

3RD PERSON POV:

It was a bright and sunny saturday morning, birds happily chirping outside of your window.

You were lying in your bed reading a book to unwind, you so desperately needing a break from the shit Class 1-A ends up getting into damn near daily. You loved UA, don't get me wrong, but you didn't expect to be saving the world at 16. You thought you'd at least get a 10 year head start! The book you were reading was extremely interesting, which was surprising given the fact that you had stole borrowed it from Bakugou. It was a story about AI taking over the world, and a group of kids banding together to put a stop to the terror. Just as the story was really getting good, you feel your phone start to vibrate, pausing your music in the process. With a groan, you glance at your phone, the contact picture making your face heat up. It's your best friend, Mineta, which was weird because he usually spent his saturdays sleeping in or hanging out with Kaminari. You smile to yourself as you answer the phone, "Helloo?" You say, dragging out the last syllable. "Oh! Hey- Hey [name]! Shit, sorry, didn't actually expect you to pick up heh, figured you'd be busy" he stammered out, tripping over his words. You laugh at his reaction, the heat in your face picking up. God, he's just the cutest you think to yourself as you clear your throat, "Well I WAS kinda busy, but I'll always pick up if it's you Noru. You're up earlier than usual tho, what's up? Denki broke up with you?" You giggled as you teased him. Mineta's laughter echoed through you headphones, making you heart skip a beat. "I'm offended by that, I'm WAY out of Denki's league," he joked back, still laughing. His voice suddenly softened as he cleared his throat, "No no uhm.. I was actually calling to ask if you'd wanna hang out? Just us? Been a bit since we've had some time to ourselves, y'know? BUT NOT LIKE A DATE OR ANYTHING Y'KNOW JUST CUZ YOU'RE LIKE MY BEST FRIEND HAHA JUST TWO FRIENDS... hanging out..." his voice went up an octave at the end as he began rambling about how he "wasn't being weird" and just "really missed being around you." You smile softly at this, letting a small chuckle escape your lips. "I'd love to hang out man, no worries. Though is it cool if we just stay in? Don't really feel like walking today, yesterday absolutely KILLED my legs." You gently reply, recalling yesterday's intense training session. "Yeah!! Yeah yeah uhm totally yeah that's awesome bro haha we can definitely stay in," he stuttered out, clearly surprised that you agreed and also very flustered. He sucked his teeth before letting out a deep breath, his voice shaky as he asked, "Wanna come to my dorm? Since we always hang out in yours..." You stopped for a minute and started to think. You can't recall ever seeing his dorm actually, as he was right about yours being the hangout hotspot. "Sure! Better have all your porn mags away before I get there tho ya freakazoid." You heard a very quiet 'yes!' Come from his end before he cleared his throat again, nervously laughing as he spoke, "Alright then! Just uhm... come over whenever you're ready! And unlike YOU i actually keep my dorm clean." You scoff at his remark, "My dorm is spotless, thank you very much. Cya soon Noru." "Yeah right, cya [nickname]."

You stood up from your bed, tossing your bonnet on it as you searched through your 'very efficient clothes pile', which was your excuse to never put clothes up. After throwing on a band tee and some joggers, you made your way to your vanity to get ready.

HIS POV:

Ho. Ly. SHIT. SHE ACTUALLY SAID YES. SHE'S GONNA COME OVER TO MY DORM. I quickly look around, making sure my room is infact spotless like I had told her over the phone. I smiled at the fact that the only messy part was my desk, which was just covered in my homework, and my dresser. "Phew, good thing I don't gotta clean up! Tho i probably should atleast make myself look decent..." I made my way over to my mirror as I took a moment to look at myself. My hair was a mess, my face had dried up drool on it, i was still in my pajamas, and I hadn't brushed my teeth yet. I looked like i had just rolled out of bed, which i had but still! She didn't need to see me like this, that's so embarrassing for me. All i could think about as i got ready was how excited i was to see her, but I quickly felt a wave of anxiety rush over me.

Fuck fuck fuck what if she thinks my room is silly, what if it's not up to her standards, what if i accidentally make her uncomfortable fuckkkk what if I-

3RD PERSON POV:

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Am I allowed... to look at her like that?" He began, his voice soft and sweet, "Could it be wrong, when she's just so nice to look at?" Ah, so he was writing a love song, you didn't expect that from Mineta to be honest

The sound of you knocking broke Mineta from his spiraling, his face heating up as it hit him just who exactly was at the door. "C-COMING!! BE RIGHT THERE!" He shouted, sounds of shuffling heard through the door. You shifted from one foot to the other, nervousness slowly infecting your body. You looked down at your outfit, feeling a tad underdressed. You don't know why, you were just gonna hang out in his room, but you felt like you should've put a little more effort into your look. You were brought back to reality by the sound of Mineta opening his door. He looked up at you, meeting your gaze and smiling widely, "H-hey [name]! Sorry for not opening the door sooner, you caught me at a bad time hehe," he said, his voice small and awkward. You took notice of his forehead, it was slightly covered in water, letting you know he had just finished showering. The imagery of him showering made it's way into your head, causing you to blush and avoid eye contact with the boy, "Nah nah no worries man, you all good. Uh, can I come in or am i just gonna stand here...?" He blushed at that and laughed, "Yeah, of course! Sorry, here," he opened the door wider and moved to the side, allowing you to enter. As you made your way into his room, you felt your jaw drop in awe. His room was... normal? It was spotless just like he said it'd be, and he had a desk littered in homework and figurines, a nice bed with a fluffy green blankey, posters on his wall, and... oh my god is that "A guitar? You play guitar?" You asked him, your eyes lit up. He blushed harder at your expression as he scratched the back of his neck, "Yeah, I'm working on a song right now actually! Denki wanted to get one for Jirou, and I tagged along, and ended up with her." He said as he carefully picked up the guitar. It was a beautiful [favorite color] acoustic guitar, complete with a lavender strap on the back. "You wanna hold her? She's tough, so I know you won't damage her." You laughed as you happily accepted his offer and took the guitar into your hands, gently lifting the strap over your head, "So... her? It's a girl?" He blushed and started fidgeting with his hands, "Uh, yeah, just feels right to let it be a girl, y'know?" even though he knew the real reason he thought of it as a girl was because it was your favorite color and reminded him of you. He watched as you fiddled with the strings for a bit before playing a little tune. He didn't recognize it, but he also made no effort to as he looked at you in astonishment. "Woah... you play too?" He asked, staring at you absolutely starstruck. "Yeah, you're not the only one with a secret rockstar career man! I've been playing since I was young actually, it was my mom and i's favorite bonding activity... can I hear the song you're working on?" You asked, your voice quiet. You saw a look of panic rush over his features before leaving just as quickly as it appeared. "Uhm... fine. But you can't laugh, okay?" You giggled and held out your pinky, "Promise i won't laugh." He interlocked your pinkies and smiled, taking the guitar back from you and making his way to his bed. As he put the guitar into his lap and messed with the tuning a bit, he looked up and patted the spot next to him. "Sit." Was all he said, and you happily accepted, climbing into his bed. He cleared his throat and sighed, his fingers beginning to pluck at the strings.

You felt a pang in your chest, anxiety telling you that you wasted your time and that you'd never be able to have him now. You brushed it off as he continued, "And she smells like lemongrass and sleep, she tastes like apple juice and peach. Oh, you would find her in a Polaroid picture. And she... means everything to me, oh.." his voice sang out, and you felt tears sting the corners of your eyes. You couldn't tell if it was because of you enjoying the song, or the jealousy brewing inside of you. "I'd never tell...No, I'd never say a word" he scrunched his eyes up as he began the next part, almost as if to prevent tears, "And oh, it aches...but it feels oddly good to hurt." You smiled, taking in the raw emotion he was displaying. "And she smells like lemongrass and sleep..she tastes like apple juice and peach. Oh, you would find her in a polaroid picture...and she means everything to me, oh.." He suddenly looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours as you noticed tears threatening to fall, "And I'll be okay admiring from afar, cause even when she's next to me, we could not be more far apart..." You swore your heart stopped as you two stared into each other's eyes, sharing the same teary eyed look with one another, "And she tastes like birthday cake, and storytime, and fall...But to her...I taste of nothing at all" as he finished off the verse he broke his stare, looking at his legs as tears silently fell. With a shaky voice he continued on, "And she smells like lemongrass and sleep. She tastes like apple juice and peach. Oh, you would find her in a polaroid picture..." as he repeated the chorus one last time, you remembered the fact that he did in fact keep a polaroid picture of a girl in his phone case, "And she means everything to me...Yes, she means everything to me! She... means everything to...me..." he finished, sighing as he brought his hand to his face to wipe his tears away. You felt your heartbeat speed up, because the polaroid he kept in his phone case was of you. You both had matching polaroids of each other that you kept. This song was about

"Me?" He sniffled as he looked up at you, "wh-what?" You laughed, tears escaping your eyes, "The song. You wrote that about me, didn't you?" You saw his expression change from confusion to one of heartbreak and embarrassment, blush covering his face. "Oh... yeah... I-I did... you probably think I'm super weird huh? I get if you don't wanna be friends anymo-" his sentence was cut off as you brought your lips on to his. His eyes widened as he processed what was happening. You were kissing him. He wasn't dreaming. YOU were kissing HIM. his eyes softened as he returned the kiss, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. You took a mental note of the fact he was a sloppy kisser, probably due to lack of experience, but you didn't mind at all. You found it sweet, you were his first kiss. He pulled away, a goofy smile plastered on his face, "So... you're not mad?" You threw your head back as you let out a loud laugh, "OF COURSE I'M NOT MAD DUMMY, I KISSED YOU!" He blushed and crossed his arms, "HEY YOU CANT BLAME ME YOU'D ASK THE SAME IF YOU WERE ME" He shouted back in defense. You wiped the tears from your face as your laugh shrunk into a giggle, "Jesus you're an idiot, I love you, Mineta. A lot. I have for a while now." You watched as he covered his face with his hands, blood slowly trickling down from his nose, "I-I-I don't know what to say [name] I- holy shit. You love me... YOU LOVE ME. I LOVE YOU TOO." You smiled and kissed the back of his hand. "Guess that makes us a thing now..?" He simply nodded in response, too flustered to form any more words. It was a good enough answer for you as you rested your head on his shoulder. You sat like that for a bit, before his voice cut through the silence.

"Denki owes me soooo much money."

[ghuleh-witch]

And We Are Tied As One Eternally-IV

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explicit Warnings: (For Future Chapters) NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex, mentions of past abuse and domestic violence, references to suicide Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x OFC Additional Tags: soft!dom Copia, eventual smut, developing relationship, kind of a slow burn, no beta reader Chapter Word Count: 2112 Summary: Ellie Moran just wanted to make a new life for herself. Running to escape the people in her past, she ends up in a small town in the middle of nowhere that happens to be home to a Satanic church. She never expected her life to change again after she started attending the public masses at said church.

Ao3

Chapters: 4/?

Tag list: @sodoswitchimage

Chapter Four

Oh, my Elenor, look what you’ve become: A blasphemous heathen! Hanging around those devil worshippers? They’ll drag you to Hell!

Ellie could hear her mother’s voice in her ear as she looked over the schedule of activities and events Gemma sent her. Throughout the week the Ministry hosted everything from cooking classes to group therapy. Ellie was interested in going to one of the support groups; a group for people like her who came from religious backgrounds and were struggling with those former beliefs and indoctrinations. Since Ellie began studying Satanism and the Ministry’s beliefs, she’d been hearing her mother’s voice more and more. The woman whispered the same thing in Ellie’s ear every time. Melissa Moran loved to remind her that she was going to hell and wasn’t worthy of God’s glory and the eternity of Heaven. 

It’s been nearly ten years since Ellie last saw or spoke to her mother. As soon as Ellie could get away, she did. She could still remember the last words she said to the woman: God isn’t real and if He was, He’d be ashamed of you. 

But despite the certainty that God wasn’t real, Ellie still doubted herself every day. What if she died and found out she was wrong? What if she was going to spend an eternity in Hell suffering? Was she even loved by God?

Ellie found herself pulling up to the Ministry gates ten minutes before the support group started. She punched in the gate code that was given to her and parked in the lot. She made her way inside and down one of the corridors on the first floor that led to a small classroom. Inside were five Siblings who were mingling around a table with snacks and drinks. One of them looked up as Ellie came in.

“Oh, you’re Sister Gemma’s charge,” they said. “Welcome! Papa Secondo will be here soon and then we’ll get started.”

Ellie nodded. So she’d be meeting Secondo today? She hadn’t seen the former Papa since that very first time at mass. Gemma said no one was really sure what he was up to these days. 

“We ready to get started?”

Ellie looked up to see a bald man with sunglasses and a thin mustache walk into the room. He took off the sunglasses and folded them up into his breast pocket. He had the same white and green eyes as Copia. He scanned the room and nodded to each of the Siblings as they took a seat. Then his eyes landed on Ellie. He looked her up and down. “You’re a new face,” he said.

“Ellie,” Ellie introduced herself. “I-um-Sister Gemma said I was allowed to come to these.”

“Ah Sister Gemma,” Secondo smiled fondly. “You’re the new potential. She’s right, you are welcome here.”

Ellie smiled and relaxed back into her chair as the meeting began. 

She was glad she wasn’t the only one who felt the way she did. After hearing some of the Siblings talk about how they were raised and their fears and doubts, Ellie had enough courage to talk about her own upbringing. 

“We didn’t start going to church until after my dad was killed in Afghanistan,” Ellie said. “My mother thought it would help us heal. That church sucked her in and therefore me. When I left for college, my mother had my whole life planned out for me. She and that church were sending me to a Christian university where I could find a good God-fearing husband and have an education to fall back on in the event my husband was not around to provide for me and our children.” She let out a snort and looked around at the group. “I was 17. I didn’t want to get married or have kids. I just wanted to get a degree in something I was interested in and get a good job.”

“Christians love to have complete control over women,” Secondo said, looking over to her. “Their men think they hold all the power. They’re afraid of strong women and fear the power women hold. Without women, their way of life would never continue. There’s nothing I can say that will erase the pain and damage inflicted on you, Ellie, or any of you for that matter. But in time you will see just how strong and powerful you are. For what it’s worth, I believe you made the right steps in that direction just by coming here.” 

Ellie chewed on the inside of her cheek as she thought about what he said. 

“And we’ll end that there this week,” Secondo said. “Same time next week?”

“Sounds good,” one of the Siblings said as everyone began to rise.

“We’ll see you again?” Secondo asked Ellie as she stood.

Ellie nodded. “Yea…thanks.”

“No thanks necessary.” He replied before slipping his sunglasses back on and leaving the classroom. 

Ellie left the room a minute later, her mind on what everyone said during the meeting. She wasn’t paying attention as she turned the corner and ran right into…a tricycle. She didn’t have time to process what she was seeing as her shin collided with the front wheel and she went down to the floor. 

“Cazzo! I am so sorry!”

Ellie blinked and refocused. She saw Copia standing up straight from a red tricycle complete with a little brass bell. Copia was kneeling next to her as she sat up and winced. 

“Ellie I am so sorry,” Copia said again. “I should have looked before coming around the corner.”

“I’m okay,” Ellie reassured her wincing again. She pulled up the leg of her jeans and looked at her shin. It was already turning into a bruise and a small scrap was leaking blood. “Just a scratch. I’ll be fine.”

“Let me clean that up,” Copia said looking at her leg. “It’s the least I can do.” 

He stood, extending a hand to help her up. Ellie grabbed his leather-clad hand and pulled herself back to standing, the ache her in leg throbbing. “What were you doing riding a tricycle around anyway?” She asked, taking a step forward and wincing when she put pressure on her leg. 

“Oh, eh, it’s a thing I just enjoy,” Copia said, looking embarrassed as he picked the tricycle up in one hand and held out his other arm for her to take. Ellie took his arm and he slowly led her back down the corridor. “There’s a small infirmary just down here. We have a doctor and a nurse who live and work here in the Ministry.”

“It’s really not that bad,” Ellie insisted. “I don’t want to cause any hassle.”

“It’s not a hassle,” Copia responded looking at her. “You’re injured and should be attended to.”

Ellie didn’t argue as she limped down the hall with him. When they got to the infirmary, the door was closed and the lights were off inside. “Must be on their breaks,” Copia muttered looking at his watch. “I have some bandaids and some ointment in my rooms. I could clean your leg up there. If you are okay with that, that is.” 

“It’s fine,” Ellie said. “As long as I’m not interrupting anything. It’s just a scratch, Papa.” 

“Eh, I was just fucking around. I’m done with all my Papa duties for the day,” Copia said guiding them towards an exit. “And call me Copia. It’s just the two of us right now.” 

“Sure,” Ellie said as they walked outside and towards the house that stood behind the abbey. She looked over the house. It was a charming stone house with flowers surrounding the outside. “It’s a really nice house,” she said. “Was it part of the abbey when you all bought the place?” 

“Si, we think it was the priest’s home before. It was remodeled and all the Papas live here now. We all have our own rooms and bathrooms and we share a kitchen and living room.” Copia said pulling out a set of keys from his pocket and unlocking the door. 

“Are you sure this is okay?” Ellie asked. “I really don’t want to be a bother.” She knew Copia was just trying to help, but she had gotten so used to taking care of herself that the idea of someone else looking after her was foreign and slightly terrifying. She always felt like a burden. Her mother always made her feel like she was a hassle, and then there was her ex-

“Tesoro, you are not a bother,” Copia said turning to her and interrupting her train of thought. “Please let me do this for you. It’s my fault you got hurt.”

Ellie bit her lips and nodded. “Okay,” she said softly, giving in to his offer.

He smiled and led her inside. Ellie stepped into a small foyer where a coat rack stood filled with coats and hats. To her left was a living room with a leather sofa and a couple of armchairs. A large screen TV was mounted to the wall above a fireplace. The large bay window filled the room with natural light and made the dark wooden floors gleam. To her right was a kitchen with stainless steel appliances, granite counters, dark-colored cabinets, and a smooth tiled floor. Straight ahead was a staircase that led to the second floor. Passed the staircase were two doors at the end of a small hallway. 

“It’s not a lot, but it’s home,” Copia said as he watched her look around. 

“It’s lovely,” Ellie said. “Cozy.”

Copia smiled and led her up the stairs, taking each step slow as Ellie gingerly put weight on her hurt leg. The top of the stairs led them into a hallway with four doors—two on each side of the staircase. “My rooms over here,” Copia said, leading Ellie to the left and then to a door on the right side of the hall. He unlocked the door and pushed the door open.

Copia’s room was small but comfortable. He had a queen-sized bed covered in red linens and quilts. A loveseat sat at the end of the bed and faced an entertainment stand with a small tv and retro game systems. There were two doors along one of the walls that Ellie guessed were a closet and a bathroom. On the opposite side was a large window that overlooked the gardens and the forest that boarded the Ministry’s land. In the corner of the room was a large metal cage with—

“Rats!” Ellie exclaimed, limping her way over to the cage. “Oh my god, they’re so cute!” She looked over the four rats who scurried to the bars of the cage, curious about their new visitor. Ellie looked over her shoulder at Copia. “Do they have names?”

“O-oh? Si, yes,” Copia stammered as though stunned by her interest in the animals. “The white one in Alfredo. The black and white one is Pepper. The big gray one is Meatball, and the small gray one is Rigatoni.” 

“They’re so cute” Ellie giggled as she held a finger up to the bars for the rats to sniff. “Could I hold one?”

“How about after I patch you up?” Copia agreed, opening one of the two doors on the opposite wall. It led to a small white tiled bathroom. Ellie could hear him opening a cabinet and routing around before stepping back into the bathroom with a small first aid box. “Sit down on the bed for me, cara.”

Ellie nodded and stepped over to the bed, sitting on the plush linens and mattress. She watched Copia walk over to her and kneel before her. She watched as he gently took her leg and pushed up her jeans to reveal the red and purpling bruise and dried blood of the scraps. “It looks like it hurts,” he said. 

“A little,” Ellie confessed as Copia opened the first aid kit and took out a prepackaged wipe to clean the dried blood. “But it’s not so bad.”

He hummed in response as he gently cleaned the area. He reached for a small tube of antibiotic cream and dabbed a little on before opening a bandage. “It’ll be sore for a couple of days,” he said before applying the bandage. 

“I’ve had worse,” Ellie said, playing with the sleeve of her sweater, remembering the scars it hid from view. “Nothing a couple of ibuprofen can’t handle.”

He nodded and looked up at her, his hands lingering on her leg for a second before gently pulling the leg of her jeans back down. “All patched up. Now, you wanted to hold the babies?”

Ellie grinned and nodded. 

[legacyshenanigans]

I've been fairly busy since I woke up today, but now that i'm settled I've got another one of my lucid dreams which I had today. To (mildly) entertain you all with 🤣

Just incase anyone doesn't know what Lucid dreaming means, it means KNOWING you're dreaming which happens to me pretty regularly. Weirdly sometimes I can control the whole dream, but sometimes I can't, like this one, things have to play out as they are, but I'm just fully aware it's a dream and can control myself but not my surroundings. Also, usually, to wake myself up from these dreams, I tend to just tell a person in my dream that I know I'm dreaming, some crazy, creepy shit will happen, then I wake up. Anyway, onto the dream haha.

So, I was at an airport with my partners parents and his sister, and weirdly, my partner wasn't there. We sat at an airport bar, and his sister hands me a 5-pound note and says, "Can you go and buy me a can of sweetcorn?" I said yeah and took the money and wandered off. The airport was massive and there was plenty of shops, but I thought to myself "Where the fuck am I gonna get a can of sweetcorn? Do you they even sell cans of sweetcorn in airports?" So I was going in every shop, just looking around.

Then I came to an area that had a bunch of massage chairs in it, and saw my Nanna on one of them, and I thought "Oh cool, my Nannas in this dream" so I wandered over to her and said Hi, she asked me what I was doing there? And I told her "I can only assume I'm going on holiday with me being in an airport" then I asked her if she was going on holiday too, and she said "airport? We're at my house"

I turned around to look and I was indeed suddenly at my Nannas house, I turned back towards her and she was just sat at her dining room table, I then asked her if she had a can sweetcorn 🤣 and she looked at me like I was a weirdo, then I thought to myself "Oh wait a minute, this is a new dream segment, I don't need to worry about the fuckin sweetcorn anymore." But I felt in my pocket that I still had the money my fellas sister had given me, so I pulled it out and looked at it, and it turned from a 5 pound note to hundreds of pounds worth of notes. And my Nanna said, "That's a lot of money," and I was like "Yeah" and shoved it back into my pocket, and she said, "Give it to me?" So I was like,"Nah, this is mine, " and my Nanna casually whacked out a knife and threatened me, saying, "Give. Me. The money." So I was like "the fuck?" And ran out of her house and was in the local town, I saw a Morrisons (UK supermarket) and ran over to it and went inside.

There was NOBODY in there, it was just me, and I remember thinking "Where are all the people? Why is nobody in here?" Then I turned down an aisle, and saw my Nanna again at the other end, with the knife, and she yet again said "Give me that money!" And she started running towards me fast as fuck and I was like "Nanna what the fuck are you doing?!" So I started running away from her as she chased me around the supermarket, but everytime I looked back at her she was changing into something else. In the end I looked back and she'd turned into this REALLY tall, bald man, who kinda looked like Withers from BG3 🤣.

I kept running, but my feet were getting tired and I was out of breath, then I thought "I don't even need this fuckin money, I'm in a fuckin dream" so I turned around to this freaky bald man and I was like "Take it!!" And threw the money at him, but he just laughed and carried on chasing me. So I started running again, but got fuckin sick of it and thought to myself "I'm gonna have to put an end to this dream" so I turned and I did the thing that I knew usually woke up form these dreams, and I said to the dude "I know I'm dreaming right now, this ain't real" and he froze on the spot and didn't move again, but I didn't wake up! So I was like "For fuck sake." So I headed towards the exit to leave the supermarket and the doors were gone, then I was like "Great, I'm stuck in this dream, in an empty fuckin Morrisons" So I was wandering around and I went down the chilled goods aisle looking for this yogurt I really wanted and wondered if I'd be able to eat it in my dream 🤣 then a fucking HAND darted out of one of the fridges and grabbed me and I was like "The fuck?!" I turned to look and it was my Nanna again, but normal and herself, and she said "Come into the fridge and you'll wake up" and I remember thinking "Anything to get out of this fucking dream" so I entered the fridge which turned into a long, dark, cold hallway, I was freezing and turned to look at where my Nanna was, but she was gone, and so was the door to the fridge, I was just in the middle of a dark, cold everlasting hallway, and I said, "Nan?"

....Nothing....

So I shouted really loudly and angrily

"Nanna?! Where you at?!"

And I woke up.

So there you go, another weird ass dream from me. 🤣🤣🤣

[softholand]

Congrats on 1k‘🥰 So for the sleepover can I request this for Harry Holland “You weren’t there…why weren’t you there? I needed you! I needed you! And you weren’t there!”

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬

⤷ mob!harry holland x reader, stabilized relationship, cursing, assault (!)

prompt: “you weren’t there… why weren’t you there? i needed you! i needed you! and you weren’t there!”

words: 1.3k

You knew you shouldn’t have left the house on your own. With your boyfriend’s line of “work”, you knew you’d be an easy target for whoever wanted to mess with him. Harry had warned you about the dangers of his lifestyle before you started dating, but you assure him you were okay with that, and that you’d take all the precautions he thought necessary for you to be safe.

One of those precautions was never going anywhere alone, that’s why you had your bodyguard follow you around wherever you went. Today, you had made plans with your boyfriend to go shopping, so you had given Jake, your bodyguard, the day off, seeing as you’d be with Harry when you left the house.

Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned and as the clock reached 3 pm, an hour after what you and Harry had planned, and he still hadn’t shown up, you gave up on trying to call and text him, deciding to get into a cab and go by yourself.

That didn’t seem to be a problem as you made your way through the stores, looking and trying everything that caught your eye, but as you made your way out of one of them, carrying two bags on each arm, you felt the presence of two men behind you, which at first, didn’t bother you that much, but as they kept following you around, no matter how far you went, you started to feel like maybe you were in danger.

Taking your phone out of your purse, you tried to call Harry again, but it went straight to voicemail, just like the other times. As you rounded a corner, trying to get away from the two men behind you, you felt a third one cover your mouth, grabbing your body and dragging it to an alleyway nearby, before slamming it against the wall, holding your hands. “Fuck!” You screeched, as you felt your head hit the concrete.

As you opened your eyes, you saw a bald man staring at you with hungry eyes, “So you're the new Holland’s princess. I gotta say, those kids know how to choose their girls.” He smirked, showing off his yellow teeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, let me go!” You tried to fight them off but he was, obviously, stronger so it ended up being pointless. “Uh, she’s a feisty one, I like it!” The man said, trying to lean in to kiss you but you spat on his face instead. “Bitch!” The bald man growled, before leaving a harsh slap on your face.

You felt the skin of your cheek burn, the tears that had brimmed your eyes since the attack started, now ran freely through your face. “Hey, go easy! Boss said he just wanted us to send a message.” Another one of them said, his thick accent making your stomach turn. “He didn’t say we couldn’t have some fun, though.” The man that had slapped you said, trying once again to kiss you. You gave him a kick on the crotch this time, earning a harsh punch on your stomach in retaliation. “Oh,” you moaned in pain, feeling dizzy for a few seconds. “Let me show you how I treat whores like you.” Said the bald man, before hitting you one more time.

The same thing kept happening, again and again, the man would try to harass you, only for you to fight back and get beaten up for it. You had no idea how long the attack lasted, all you knew was that, when they finally went away, you were left on the ground, crying in a mixture of pain and fear, the tears blurring your eyes, making it hard for you to see who you were calling to.

Turns out, it was Harrison, one of Harry’s friends, and at that moment, you couldn’t be more thankful for hearing him pick up the phone.

Ten minutes later, a car stopped in front of you, a blond figure getting out of the car. You felt so weak, you didn’t even have the strength to check who it was. “Hey y/n, it’s me.” You heard Harrison’s voice, your sobs growing in size upon realizing someone was there to help you. “C’mon, let’s take you out of here,” Harrison exclaimed, carefully lifting your body, helping you get inside his car.

Harrison must've told everyone what happened, ‘cause when you got home, the Holland’s came rushing to your side, wanting to know how you were feeling, all except one, your boyfriend, who still hadn’t shown up. Tom’s girlfriend, Maria, helped you to a bath she had prepared, helping you undress and get into the tub since you still felt like you had been run over by a truck.

Half an hour later, you were tucked in bed, your hair still wet from the bath, feeling a tiny bit better after taking a few painkillers Maria had offered, as well as a bottle of water that you chugged all in one go. After taking care of you, Maria left, ushering you to get some rest. That turned out to be a difficult task to be done though, since every time you closed your eyes, images of the man hitting you came rushing back into memory.

It was much later when you heard the bedroom door open, the sound waking you from your light slumber. Thinking it was Maria checking up on you yet again, you mumbled a little “I’m fine, Mar!”, not even bothering to turn around. “It’s me, baby!” You felt your whole body tense upon hearing Harry’s voice, the sound of his footsteps growing louder as he approached you.

Taking a seat on the bed, Harry tried touching you, only for you to crawl deeper under the covers. “Hey, it’s me, love. Are you okay?” Your boyfriend asked, trying once again to reach for you. “y/n, talk to me, please! Are you hurt?” He seemed genuinely concerned but you were just too angry to care. “Am I hurt? I don’t know, Harry! What do you think? Do I look like I’m hurt?” You snapped, finally showing your face to him. Harry’s eyes immediately widened upon seeing your bruised face, “Baby…” he mumbled, tears brimming his waterlines.

You avoided his touch once again, “Where the fuck were you, Harry?” You asked, feeling a new batch of tears. “Baby, I’m sorry! I was at a meeting and I left my phone at the office. I’m so sorry, darling.” Harry let it out, trying his best to explain himself. “You weren’t there…why weren’t you there? I needed you! I needed you! And you weren’t there!” You cried, tears blurring your vision. “I’m sorry, y/n! I’m sorry, I should’ve been there with you. I’m so sorry!” Harry reached for you, caging yourself in his arms while you tried to fight him off. “I needed you, Harry! I needed you.” You kept mumbling, finally letting yourself sob in his arms. “You’re okay! I’m here now, baby!” Your boyfriend assured you, leaving kisses on the top of your head.

It took a solid fifteen minutes for you to calm down, finally taking your head from your boyfriend’s chest and looking at him. “I’m sorry they did this to you, darling!” Harry whispered, taking your face in his hands. “I was so scared, Harry!” You cried, Harry quickly dabbing your tears away. “I know, baby! I’m sorry! I promise you they’ll pay for that.” Your boyfriend said, leaving kisses all over your face. “Just pick up the phone next time I call you.” You let it out, a small smile appearing on Harry’s lips. “I will! I’m never letting anything happen to you again, y/n. I promise!” You felt a sense of safety in Harry’s words, making you lean in and leave a small kiss on his lips. “I love you, y/n!” He mumbled against your lips, “I love you too!” You said, burying your face back into your boyfriend’s chest, where you stayed for the rest of the night.

—don’t forget to reblog and leave your feedback ♡

[turtle-steverogers]

i was thinking but do you know the unsent project? it is this website where you can write a message to your first love that you never sent to them. now imagine steve writing one (or multiple) to bucky after he came out of the ice after nat told him about it... yeah

hello hi anon this broke me and it was too perfect not to turn into a ficlet klafjldskjfalskf thank you

-

Unsent Letters

To:

Steve’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at him. It feels like it’s taunting him-- teasing him with the burden of choking out a name. What should he even say? The sender is anonymous, but how many people are named Bucky out there? Would anyone even care?

To: Bu

Steve huffs and backspaces, his hands trembling as he curls them into fists. He isn’t sure what provoked Natasha to tell him about this website. It’s a cruel tease to everything he wishes he could say-- wished he could say before Bucky slipped through his fingers. And now his only option is yelling into an abyss. The text box is black and daunting. He turns it yellow. No, too happy. Green. Yes, that’s fine. Bucky’s favorite color was always green.

His gaze wanders away from the screen of his hefty Dell laptop and out the window of his apartment. DC’s low rising buildings span out in front of him. His gut aches; he misses New York already. But he knows being there would only mangle his soul further, seeing his already alien home torn to shreds by literal space whales. He huffs, thinking of Bucky’s comics. His stories came to life after all. Bucky would have probably vibrated out of his skin if he knew there was other life out there.

To: My astronaut

How’s space treating you? It’s treating me pretty badly, if I’m being honest. If only you could see what it’s done to Brooklyn. I think you’d be pretty mad at it if you knew…

Steve hesitates, reading back over what he’s typed. It’s stupid as hell, and he cringes, but he doesn’t backspace. His fingers find the keys again.

I miss you something awful. I don’t think that even encompasses how much I’m hurting without you. I feel so lost right now-- space is much bigger and scarier than you’d think. I know you’d love it. I wish you could see bits of it, but god, I just want to go home. I want you to come home.

Steve freezes again and finds the screen blurry where tears have welled in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he pictures the way Bucky would laugh at him-- teasing him for his dramatics and ruffling his hair. He wishes he could be there now, rolling his eyes and nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“What’re you upsetting yourself for?” He’d say, gently closing the laptop and coaxing Steve into his arms. “I’m right here, pal.”

And if Steve closes his eyes, he can almost feel Bucky’s warmth enveloping him. But he’s not there. He’s dead, and Steve’s a goddamn ghost, drifting through a future that doesn’t know him.

He opens his eyes and stares at the text box, then clicks submit.

The screen loads, and his message is gone, his pain forever documented in the abyss.

-

For someone who fought aliens two weeks after waking up from his impromptu seventy year sleep, Steve’s life is pretty monotonous. He contemplates this unfortunate fact as he stands in front of his toaster, hair sticking up on the back of his head as he nurses a mug of coffee and waits for his toast to pop.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and he tries to remember a time when he didn’t rise this early. Before the war, perhaps. Though, he’s always been a bit of an early bird. His home life was sporadic to put it lightly and he’d learned from an early age that the sooner he was awake, the better it was for everyone. Vigilance is not a new concept for Steve.

He hasn’t always stayed up late, though. That’s certainly new, and he feels this fact viscerally as he catches sight of his reflection in the microwave. There are bags under his eyes that will be gone by mid-morning thanks to the serum. Dermatologists hate him, Natasha says. Steve thinks he’s pretty lucky that the serum more or less equipped him with a built-in anti-aging agent. His father had started balding by thirty.

His toast pops and he starts a little, blinking blearily at the slightly burnt bread as he pulls it out of the toaster with his thumb and forefinger. He spreads on the same raspberry jam and butter that he uses every morning and tries not to think of how bland it tastes in his mouth as he eats it standing at the counter. Another routine.

He tries not to look at last night’s dishes in the sink as he stacks his plate and silverware on top and doesn’t bother sorting out his hair before pulling on his sneakers and slipping out of his apartment. The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, only the beginning tendrils of light sneaking over the low tops of the DC buildings, and Steve vaguely regrets not grabbing a sweatshirt before he left. It’s not quite Summer yet and the mornings could still get pretty cool.

He’s about to take off down the street when he freezes. Natasha is sitting on the steps of his complex, wearing a pair of pink tinted sunglasses and tossing up and down the keys to her car. Steve blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. Nope. She’s still there.

“Nat?”

Natasha looks up at him and smiles. “Hello.”

Steve shifts, uncomfortable. “Hi. You need something? Is there a mission?”

“No,” Natasha says lightly, standing. “You’re not running this morning, though. Come on, I’m taking you to Starbucks.”

“What?”

“Starbucks. You’re going to try it.”

“I don’t want--”

“Steve, you do the same thing every day. Step out of your comfort zone a little.”

Steve frowns, but Natasha’s right-- he really doesn’t ever stray from his routine.

“Fine,” he says, and twenty minutes later, they’re strolling into the nearest Starbucks.

He’s only been in one before, and that was to use the restroom while on a run. He’d bought a water bottle in an attempt to not be rude and use their facilities without giving them any business, but he hadn’t even considered the expansive menu. All the fancy names were too daunting.

They’re just as daunting now as he stares up at the board, heart hammering out of his chest as he’s faced with indecision. Natasha takes one look at his face, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll order something for you,” she says. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Steve gives her a pained look. “Um… just coffee?”

Natasha quirks a smile and orders him something called a caramel macchiato. He’ll take it, he guesses.

The drink is too damn sweet and sugary and he almost gags. Still, he was always told to finish what he was given, so he drinks the whole thing.

-

To: Mr. Sweet Tooth

You’d fucking love it here. Everything is packed with sugar and sweetness-- enough to make even my teeth rot. I had something called a caramel macchiato today and it tasted like someone took your ma’s caramels and condensed them into a cup. I couldn’t stand it, but I know if you were here, you’d want at least twelve. I hope you’re enjoying all the sweets you can up in space.

Love, Mr. Boring

-

Steve’s fingers are stiff and frozen as he works at the straps of his stealth suit. The tangy taste of saltwater still sits heavy on his tongue, and he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too harshly as he finally peels off his suit. It’s not much better, being naked, but at least the wet fabric isn’t clinging to him anymore.

The mission had been pretty straightforward until some alien tech managed to blast the quinjet to kingdom come, and they all free-fell straight into the freezing Atlantic.

Steve had managed to keep it together as they took down the goddamn mad scientist that fucked them over, but now that he’s home and alone, he can feel the adrenaline crashing.

He’s shaking from more than just the cold as he draws himself a warm bath, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic that wants to engulf his entire being.

He loses time for a bit, and comes back to himself lying in his bed, burrowed under several thick layers. He feels so cold, down to his very soul-- a chill that he can never seem to truly shake, even when he’s warm.

Not for the first time, he wishes Bucky were there to hold him. He slips off to sleep thinking old, comforting thoughts of Bucky rubbing his hands between his own, coaxing his head under his chin to engulf him in that natural warmth of his. He always was a fucking furnace.

But when Steve wakes an hour later, shaking hard enough to move the bed with the force of the nightmare he’d dropped into, Bucky is not there to soothe away the ice.

-

To: JB

im so cold and i cant breathe ever and nothing feels right. I dont know what to do, u were always the problem solver between us and i cant think straight right now and i just want you here please. I cant do this anymore, im so tired please come back. I need you please

-

The Winter Soldier file sits in front of Steve-- a horrifying nightmare wrapped up in a neat brown folder. Residual nausea swirls around in his gut as he comes down from the horrible high of reading through the contents. His hands shake where they grasp the thick paper. His heart clenches hard in his chest.

Bucky is alive. Bucky is alive, and he’s been unmade.

Steve doesn’t know where he is-- if he’s escaped, or if Hydra found him again. It’s been three weeks now since the helicarriers, and he’s only just gotten the courage to sit down and wade through the shit that is Bucky’s reality.

He just hopes he’s safe. God, he hopes.

Sam says he’ll help him look, and Steve needs to know he’s at least out of danger, but he barely knows where to start.

And he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

Blinking out of his reverie, Steve looks at his laptop. He feels strange and detached as he reaches for it and logs in.

To: Bucky

And yes, that feels right. He should use his name, since he suspects no one has for a long, long time.

I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting so quietly for so long. I understand if you’re not ready to come home-- I understand if you never are. I just hope that you know that there will always be a place with me that is safe. I love you so much and I’m here, forever and always.

Love, Steve.

He’s not naive. He knows it would be dangerous to submit that particular message, so he doesn’t. But that’s okay. That one’s just for him-- for them.

-

“Steve? What is the… Unsent Project?”

Steve frowns and pokes his head out of the kitchen. Bucky is sitting on the couch in the living room, using his laptop, because his own is having storage issues.

Bucky looks at him. “It’s one of your saved tabs. What is it?”

And oh, fuck. Steve had forgotten to remove that from his homepage-- it really wasn’t needed anymore. He blushes all the way to his ears.

“Oh, it’s-- nothing. Not anything important--”

But Bucky has already clicked on the tab.

“The Unsent Project,” he reads aloud. “A collection of unsent text messages to… first… loves…”

He trails off as he processes what he’s looking at, and Steve can’t quite read his expression when he looks at him again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at Steve like he’s some sort of kicked puppy. Steve shifts, uncomfortable.

“Were you sending me… messages? While I was dead?”

Steve swallows. “Um…” and now that Bucky says it out loud, it really does sound quite sad. He shrugs. “It’s Natasha’s fault?”

Bucky shakes his head, clicking on the search bar. He starts to type his name, but Steve shakes his head.

“I didn’t use your name.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then frowns at him again. “What did you use?”

Steve blushes harder, sitting next to Bucky and taking the laptop from him.

“Um…” he hesitates, then types what he was sure he used as his first alias.

My astronaut

The screen buffers and loads, then fifty or so messages pop up. Steve scrolls down-- it doesn’t take long to find his.

They’re both quiet as they read, and Steve cringes. Jeez, he really had been pretty dramatic. Next to him, Bucky makes a hurt noise.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, taking the laptop back from Steve. He reads the message again, then once more, and reaches out for Steve. “Aw, I’m here now.”

Steve huffs, embarrassed. “I know,” he says. “That was way back, like, three weeks after I woke up.”

Bucky stills. “You fought aliens three weeks after you woke up?”

“... More like two.”

Bucky hums. “Are there others?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to type on Bucky’s lap, because Bucky is holding him now and he’s quite reluctant to move. He thinks for a moment, then types in the next one he remembers.

Mr. Sweet Tooth

Bucky laughs, and Steve finds himself smiling.

“I find this funny,” Bucky says. “Because caramel macchiatos are definitely one of my favorites now.”

Steve laughs, too, and butts his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“If only I could tell that to myself back then-- he’d be thrilled.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. “Any more?”

Steve hesitates, thinking of the one he’d sent after that nightmare-- when he was low and hurting. Incoherent. He isn’t sure he wants Bucky to see that particular side of his soul, but Bucky has been more than generous in letting him in on his pains nowaday, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t witnessed Steve’s own current nightmares.

He bites his lip and types in JB. That seems to yield a lot more results, and it takes a while for Steve to find the message.

He hides his face in Bucky’s neck as he reads. Bucky’s arms gradually tighten around him, and a moment later, he feels him kiss the top of his head.

“Honey, I hate that you were hurting so bad,” Bucky mutters against his hair.

Steve shrugs. “We both were,” he says, and it’s true. There’s something to be said about the guilt they both feel for not being able to save the other person at their lowest, but life hasn’t been kind to them. The vitriol, Steve thinks, should be directed at the goddamn universe for keeping them apart, not themselves for fucking dying. They’re working on it.

Bucky’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says. “Is that it?”

Steve shakes his head. “But I never sent the last one.”

“Why not?”

“I wrote it after DC.”

He feels Bucky squeeze him again, and he squeezes back.

“Oh.”

“I just-- I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to come home. That I just wanted you to be safe; needed to know you were safe, but it was up to you. I just needed you to know I was here, if you needed me.”

Bucky pulls back then and cups his face, kissing him soundly. Steve’s surprised for only a moment before he’s kissing back.

“I did know that,” Bucky says against his lips. “I needed time-- I was lost-- but the first thing I knew when I remembered who you were was that you were a safe person, because you’d never force me anywhere.”

Steve kisses him again, then pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you knew that.” It’s warm, where their chests meet, and Bucky is solid beneath him. Real. He isn’t speaking into an abyss anymore.

-

There’s a sticky note on Bucky’s pillow next to his head when he wakes up the next morning. Steve’s side of the bed is already vacant, and he can’t hear him downstairs. He must have already left for a run.

Propping himself on an elbow, Bucky plucks up the sticky note.

To: My Bucky

Thank you for choosing me to be your home, and thank you forever, for being mine.

I love you with everything I have.

Love, your Steve

Bucky smiles, heart light as he folds the notes. He’ll keep that one with him, he thinks. A little bit of home to bring wherever he goes.

-

anyway yeah fslkjflaskjfls i-- ouch. anything to do with letters w these two hurts me immensely

[thedamageofherdays]

This week's [23-08-2021 - 29-08-2021] reading log is here! I read a lot again this week and I feel like it's a lovely variety of fics. Most fics are Stucky like usual, but there's at least one other ship. I am constantly amazed by the talent people have in this fandom! There was one fic I read on Tumblr that I can't seem to find unfortunately, but when I do I'll make sure to reblog and rec it 💕

Favourites are marked with a 🌻

When life gives you lemons by moonthejedi394 @moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 40k words, Mature] (12/15 chapters available)

Or 13 Terrible Things to Do With Lemons Other Than Making Lemonade

Steve Rogers is a home health nurse. He works for an agency, which assigned him to the aging Winifred Barnes, the one and only Silent Era Hollywood darling. As her needs increased, she requested the agency assign Steve to her full-time. She could pay for it, so she got it. Steve then moved in with her, becoming her caregiver; he cooked, he cleaned, he managed her medications, he made sure she was comfortable.

Winifred's children treated him less than ideally. He was the help, after all. And then Steve had the audacity to go and turn out to be eldest son James Barnes's soulmate. No one saw that coming.

The Masseur and the Assassin by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 17k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes needed a vacation from his job. What he found was a happy ending.

The Words Breathe by buckbarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

All Steve has to do is keep his promise. When he doesn’t, Bucky gets mouthy.

Soft by this_wayward_life @wayward-lives [Stucky, 2k words, Explicit]

The last time he'd seen Bucky he'd looked unhealthy, with pallid skin and greasy, lanky hair. Now, Bucky shone; his hair was thick and silky, his skin a deep bronze from spending so much time outside. He was softer, too; the hard muscle that used to cover him was now replaced by soft fat, his body still strong, but in a more mundane way. His thighs were thicker, his ass plumper, and when he'd pulled Steve into the river Steve had noticed the pudge on his stomach.

Seeing Bucky so happy, well-fed and shining, was a bit of a kick in the face. For all the years they'd known each other, he'd never seen Bucky so... care-free. Now that Bucky was putting on weight, his middle soft and his body malleable, it sent a bolt of arousal through Steve every time he noticed the curves of Bucky's body.

Or: Bucky put on a bit of weight in Wakanda, and Steve is Not Coping.

🌻 Revive Another Side of Me by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Steve’s never lived in a world without Bucky, and he’s not living now. It takes them a while, much too long, to get that awaited rest, a little slice of peace after the dust has settled.Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are inseparable, history remembers. But they’re not men of the past quite yet.

🌻 imagine being loved by me by spacebuck @spacebuck [Stucky, 20k words, Explicit]

Just after 1am - a few hours after he posted today’s photo - he hears the tell-tale sound of a twitter message. Bucky grabs his phone, not checking who it’s from as he opens it because it’s probably one of his mutuals yelling at him as per usual. When he actually looks at his phone, though, it’s not Natasha

The ‘verified’ check stares back at him for a long moment before he can even bring himself to process the name on his screen. Steve Rogers is messaging him. Or, he reasons, a very good fake. The handle looks right though, not that Bucky knows. Not that Bucky has Captain’s America’s tweets set up as notifications, or that Bucky’s own display name is set to captain america’s bitch. Not at all.

Hey, the first message says. It’s Steve.

🌻 JB’s Complete Lube Services by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

People just didn’t approach Captain America and proposition him. Although, sometimes Steve wished they would; even the pinnacle of virtue and justice needed to get dicked down from time to time.

Or, the one where Steve has the hots for a mechanic and decides to be proactive in getting that dick.

If it had to be someone by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky had known since he was a child that he didn’t have a choice in who he married, but he’d thought he had more time before the day arrived.

Miscalculations by christywantspizza @christywantspizza [Ransom Drysdale/Reader, 6k words, Explicit]

Ransom tries to get you to sleep with him by less than honorable means. You give him what he wants, just not how he wants it.

How to Seduce a Writer by obsessivereader [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

What's a determined master strategist going to do when the oblivious writer he's trying to woo keeps missing all the clues?

He doesn’t think it’s because he hadn’t signaled his own interest to Bucky. He’s pretty much done everything short of hitting Bucky over the head with semaphore flags by this point. There’s no way Bucky could’ve missed them. Unless… There’d been that one link he’d stumbled upon when he’d googled ‘how to talk to a writer’. It’d been written by a writer, who’d been candid about how oblivious writers could be, and how someone could go about seducing one. An idea starts to form. It’s ridiculous, but at this point, he’s willing to go with ridiculous, since subtle wasn’t getting him anywhere.

🌻 Pod Bless America by Deisderium @deisderium [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

Bucky can't believe his favorite podficcer recorded his newest fanfic AU of the show Commandos. He's even more surprised when the customer who busts him listening to fic while he's working in the office supply store turns out to be that podficcer.

* The guy—maybe bi_shield?—took his phone, looked down at the screen, and smiled. "Yeah, that one's mine," he said with no evidence of embarrassment. "It was a good one." He handed the phone back to Bucky.

"I wrote it," Bucky croaked.

take a bite by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 7k words, Mature]

"I’d never let anyone freeze to death.” Steve gives a big sigh and flutters his lashes. “All that blood gone to waste.”

Bucky’s lips turn down and his nose scrunches up a little. “I want to be grossed out, but…”

“But you get it.” Steve gives him a pointed look. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can appreciate how juicy blood is.”

*

Or: Vampire Steve saves newly-turned werewolf Bucky from a snowstorm.

Leaving the Shield Behind by BuckyAboveEverything [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

“So, on one hand, we have Steve Rogers - hunk, genius, animal lover. Buys you waffles and overpriced coffee. 100% wholesome all-American boy.”

“And, on the other hand, we have Capsicle – twink, smart-ass, fanboy. Reads your stories and sends you fanart. Possibly a pervert or a serial killer.”

Bucky groaned.

“I am 100% certain I am 0% sure of what to do."

Bucky Barnes, full-time copywriter and free-time fanfic writer, struggles to choose between two equally-attractive suitors, only to find that he doesn’t have to after all.

* Based on a true story *

Cap's Book Corner by Neche [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

Recluse Author Bucky Barns stumbles into fanboy Steve Rogers bookstore one day...

Cat Nap by galwednesday @galwednesday [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Objectively, losing the Bucharest safehouse and its contents was the least of Bucky’s problems. The balding agent he’d seen directing the raid was apparently affiliated with SHIELD, which was a shadowy government agency that made representatives from other shadowy government agencies suddenly remember urgent appointments when Bucky tried to bribe, threaten, and otherwise shake them down for information on what the hell SHIELD might want with a former brainwashed assassin. Dodging SHIELD should be his number one priority.

Subjectively, he wanted his fucking cat back.

at any given moment by honeypuffed [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

Steve and Bucky find out that everyone thinks they're sleeping together.

Brought to Brightness by eyres [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

🌻 Nokken Wood by leveragehunters @leveragehunters [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

When Sam's friend needs a house-sitter for his place in the country, Steve jumps at the chance. Six months rent-free to do nothing but draw and paint and wander the countryside, looking for inspiration? It was like a dream. But when he gets lost in a storm and nearly falls into a pond he starts to rethink the whole like a dream aspect of life in the country. And when a red-eyed, sharp-clawed, silver-fanged creature rises out of the darkness, Steve is one hundred percent certain the dream's morphed into a nightmare.

...until it gives him a cup of tea.

(Inspired partly by this prompt a supernatural creature is supposed to scare you but instead it gives you a cup of tea and a blanket because you're having a bad day and you keep coming back and partly by this painting.)

Professional Pride by galwednesday [Stucky, 700 words, Teen]

Bucky is having a very good day, until he turns around and finds himself face-to-face with Captain America.

“Oh shit,” he blurts before he can stop himself, and Captain America blinks at him. “Hey, hi, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Here, at New York’s Pride parade, surrounded by thousands of happy screaming people wearing rainbows and sometimes not much else. What is he doing here? Is he on guard duty or something? Was he just on a mission and happened to be passing by on his way back?

He’s in uniform but with the cowl loose around his neck, so when he rubs the back of his head it fluffs up his matted hair. “I, uh. I saw one of your–temporary tattoos?” Captain fucking America says, like it’s a question.

The A-bridged Guide to Trolling by galwednesday [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I don’t have any money.”

Oh no, now the girl looked upset. Her eyes were huge and her lip was wobbling. Bucky tried to think fast despite the oh shit oh shit oh shit looping through his head.

“That’s okay,” Bucky said gently. “I don’t need money. We can figure out another kind of toll.”

The girl frowned at him. “Like what?”

Bucky scratched his head, trying to think of something a kid was certain to have on hand. “Do you know any jokes?”

(Fantasy AU in which Steve is a hedge witch with a green thumb, Bucky is a bridge troll who's new in town, and knock-knock jokes are a viable form of currency.)

It's a bittersweet ending (if you know what I mean) by relenafanel [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I’ll see you around, Steve,” Bucky answers with a smirk, moving away from the counter with a wink.

Steve watches him go. Bucky’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans coated in something to give the appearance of leather. It’s impossible to not watch him go.

stuck on you by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

Decision-Making in Relationships (Paid Research Opportunity!) by castiowl [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Clint looked thoughtfully at the flyer. “I guess your actual roommate wouldn’t be down with it?”

Bucky frowned. “Have you met Steve Rogers?”

no way out but through by hollimichele [Stucky, 9k words, Teen]

Steve never sees it coming.

you got blood on your hands (and i know it's mine) by nighimpossible [Stucky, 3k words, Teen]

Bucky refuses to see Steve after his deprogramming.

Like What You See by daisymondays [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

For all the time Bucky’s spent fantasizing about meeting Captain America, he’d never imagined it would be while posing nude in front of a drawing class.

🌻 A Real Boy by itsnotbleak [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

It took the Winter Soldier three weeks to remember that human beings needed to sleep and eat.

It took Steve far too long to realise the Winter Soldier was sleeping in his bed.

Amapola by chaya [Stucky, 830 words, Teen]

Total fluff. Bucky's recovering nicely. Steve's oblivious. Sometimes it's best to set aside subtlety for action.

Knocking Boots With Sugar by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 4k words, Explicit]

In between summers at college, Steve Rogers wants a new adventure beyond his lonely life in Brooklyn. He ends up in West Texas working on a dude ranch where Bucky Barnes is a long-time employee. When Bucky offers to buy Steve a drink, they end up drunk on tequila and making out in public. For the rest of the summer, they're inseparable. As the summer draws to a close, Steve realizes he doesn't want to leave.

Rogers and Associate by roe87 @jro616 [Stucky, 7k words, Teen]

When they first meet, Bucky is a hooker and Steve is a cop. She's been arrested, but Steve lets her off.

Years pass and they maintain a casual friendship, seeing each other out on the streets most nights.

Though he later makes detective, Steve loses faith in the system and quits his job.

He wants to set up as a private investigator, and he asks Bucky if she'd be his assistant.

Just in time by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky knew the apartment he was renting was old fashioned, but walking in the front door and finding himself transported back to 1938 was not on the list of things he had prepared himself for.

🌻 You Like What's in My Head by dontcallmebree [Stucky, 15k words, Explicit] (with art by @kocuria)

Bucky can’t decide if Steve’s a tough nut to crack or incredibly easy. The timbre of his voice, a low and almost amused, “Sure, kid,” when Bucky asks for a drink feels like something gripping him on the back of his neck.

He thinks this might be one of those moments in life he’ll pinpoint in the future and either curse at for dooming himself, or remember fondly with pride.

He’s right. Bucky Barnes blunders through falling in love with Commander Rogers and tries to find a deeper meaning behind the expensive gifts and thorough fucking.

Can I Sit Here? by BuckyFrickenBarnes [Stucky, 962 words, General]

Bucky has unusual methods for getting rid of his writer's block.

Or, Bucky needs that table.

Workplace Romance by BuckyFricken Barnes [Stucky, 1k words, General]

Bucky is under the impression that his boss hates him.

Or,

Steve needs to get better at dealing with his feelings.

🌻 1-800-MAYTAG by Miss Plum @misspluckyplum [Stucky, 1k words, Explicit]

Bucky just wants to get some housework done. It gets out of hand fast. Silly little fluff and smut romp with snarky stucky boys.

Eyes of the Forest by Lordelannette [Stucky, 7k words, Explicit] (2/8 chapters available)

When Omega Bucky Barnes comes to Eagle Lake, it was in search of wolves, a creature that had not been seen in the area for decades.

What he finds instead is Steve Rogers, a handsome, though quiet Alpha who seems to be everywhere in the forest.

[dreamescapeswriting]

One Summer In Paris ~ Is She Mine? ~ JJK

WORD COUNT: 3.4 K 

GENRE: Fluffy, romance, ex-lovers to lovers, smut at a later date

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

DESCRIPTION: Jeon Jungkook had always loved Paris with its amazing views, incredible museums and the small Bookshop right across from the Effiel Tower. It was were he spent a lot of his summer breaks as a kid so he loved it well into his adulthood. There was one bookshop he rented a room in the summer that changed his life. It was a place where he felt happy and at peace whenever he had the chance to stay there. Where he fell in love for the first time and had his first heartbreak, a lot of firsts for him were in Paris. But what happens when he goes back to the same book shop four years later and finds the love of his life in the arms of another with a daughter who looks suspiciously like him…

THEMES: Single Parent, Jungkook x Fem!Reader, self insert, Smut will be included in a later chapter

MASTERLIST || NEXT

As soon as the plane touched the floor Jungkook instantly felt at home even if his home wasn't Paris it was still felt like home to him. Everything about Paris made him feel at peace and in a place, he couldn't help but fall in love with more and more every time they came here. Pulling his bag through the airport calling Namjoon to let him know that he'd arrived in Paris safely like the leader had requested but he had to have been sleeping because there was no answer from him so he just put his baseball cap on paired with some sunglasses and walked out, keeping his head down as he walked.

The joys of the break coming like this meant that no one knew where he was heading, not even his manager knew that Jungkook had flown to France he didn't want everyone following him around he wanted it to be just like his old times there when he was a kid and the last summer he was there. This break was about spending time alone and just having some time to breathe, no paparazzi, no fans. He adored all of ARMY but sometimes he just needed some time to himself.

It was almost four years to the date when the boys all took a break from their idol life to spend some time off and away from everything and just like today he flew to Paris. One of the places he'd loved as a kid since he would always come here on his summer breaks,

"Bonjour," He greeted one of the cab drivers who nodded at him through the rearview mirror with no response, waiting for the address to be given to him. Jungkook could recite the address as if it was his own home address, it had never left his brain even in the four years he'd been away from it.

"234 Louvre Road please," It was the address of an apartment above a book shop, one that he'd spent most of his inside of when he came to Paris with his grandmother, and the one he'd been in four summers ago the last time he was alone in the city without the boys around. Of course, they'd been there many times since but Jungkook could never break away from them or the paparazzi long enough to go and visit the small shop.

"Right away Sir, what brings you to the city of love?" Jungkook assumed he was trying to make some conversation to help pass the time so he just decided to speak back to him. The man was balding and had a thick black beard, he couldn't have been any older than his 50's.

"I've missed coming here, so I decided it was time for a visit." He chuckled to himself even though what he was saying wasn't funny. It was the nervous chuckle he did whenever he didn't know what to say, he turned and began staring out of the window as he passed by everything. Nothing had changed, the views were still spectacular no matter the angle you looked from, everything was still just as beautiful as ever. The sun was already starting to set in the city and it made everything look more impressive than it already did, the fairy lights were just starting to twinkle on the Effiel Tower. 

"No story of a long lost love living here? I've heard them all kid and I can read you like a book," The man laughed softly as he pulled onto the main road, Jungkook's heart sank at the thought of you even still being in Paris, you would have been long gone by now there was no way of knowing. 

"No. Not for me." He lied, laughing it off as though it wasn't weighing him down so he kept his attention on the view out of the window, looking at all the different people that were around him. All of the couples running along together, families huddled together as they toured the city of love. 

This was supposed to be a creative break for him, Namjoon told him that he thought Jungkook could have a breakthrough with some lyrics he'd been struggling on so he was hoping Namjoon was right about that. Paris was always one of the places Jungkook felt most creative, the art and the people all inspiring him. It was where he'd written a lot of the love songs that were on his mixtape...That wasn't released yet, Jungkook didn't think it was ready but he was sure after this break it would be. He just needed something...More.

"Here you go sir," Jungkook tipped the taxi driver and got out at the small book shop. 

It was just the way he remembered it from his childhood and the summer he'd spent there. The small shop nestled right between the river and across from the Effiel tower, the view from the apartments above it was honestly breathtaking and made him wonder how the place was still just a book shop instead of a B&B but he didn't mind, the place was still there, still his private little nesting place. He wondered if the inside had changed all over the last four years of him being gone, Grace was always crazy about changing everything inside. Going on about how the decor was wrong, or the shelves needed rearranging whenever she didn't like something in its place. He was about to head inside of the shop when he froze in place, his hand on the handle of his suitcase tensing while his knuckles turned when he saw you standing there. 

Reaching across the counter probably speaking French to one of the customers since it was practically your native tongue the way you spoke it, your hair was longer than it was Four summers ago and you seemed happier somehow. The corners of your lips were turned up in a smile and it made his stomach flip and kick the longer he watched you engaging with someone. Although he had no idea what you were saying he was making it up in his head, imagining what you would say to someone who was asking for a book recommendation. It had been one of your favourite things to do in the shop, you'd read so many different books Jungkook always wondered how you kept it all in your head.

"Excusez-Moi monsieur, Allez-Vous à l'intérieur?" Excuse me, sir, are you going in?" Jungkook was pulled from his daydream about you and turned to see a small elderly lady holding a stack of books in her hand, he'd hardly heard her and he doubted that he would if she hadn't have tapped his shoulder to gain his attention. She frowned at him as she watched him, Jungkook could have sworn she looked an awful lot like Grace but he couldn't be sure.

"Oh, Oh...Sorry. No." He stepped out of the way darting to hide down the side of the shop when you looked up. There was a bell above the door that alerted whoever was working that someone had entered so you glanced up, right as Grace walked through the door with a stack of books in her hand.

"Bonjour!" He heard your voice and it was just as sweet as he remembered it from before, you still sounded like you which was good since you were you and not some alien that was disguised to look like you...He knew it was impossible. But his flight over here had been cramped full of dreams about you...Nightmares rather. One stemming from an Alien abduction to the next one of you flipping out at him when you see him.

"There was an odd boy outside, I'm sure I know him." That was his cue to leave that meant that the woman had been Grace. Grace was like a mother to you so he knew you would have told her all about him and why he'd left you, he dragged his suitcase down the cobbled road trying to find another taxi service. He couldn't stay in the apartment above the bookshop you were working in. It would feel too weird but his heart was aching to go and see you one last time. To get one last glance at you before he disappeared, his heart yearned for it but he shook his head, keeping his eyes downcast as he tried to find a cab.

"An odd boy? Madame Grace, you think everyone is odd," You laughed softly at the elderly lady taking her in the direction of the back of the shop to settle her down with a pot of tea and one of the books she'd brought along with her. It was her own store but she'd never read anything from inside of it. 'It's all junk' She said to you one day as she settled down with books in different languages you could never understand. 

"He was really odd, just watching you through the window. I thought he was going to come in but then I startled him," She continued ranting about how he shouldn't have been standing in the doorway like that how it would only deter people from coming into the charming little bookshop she owned. You poured her a cup of tea into the small teacup and shook your head at her,

"I'm sure he was just lost Madame Grace," Your voice came out softly and she patted the top of your hand, she always knew you were nice to everyone. 

"Where is your handsome boyfriend?" She meant David, of course, she loved him since she was the one to set you up with him and he was..."One of a kind." There was one thing about him, you hadn't worked out what it was going on between you, you knew he liked you a lot and he and Arehum - your daughter - got along perfectly well but you weren't sure how you felt about him. There was nothing wrong with him of course, he was a great guy but there just wasn't something there that made you feel connected to him.

"He's out with Arehum." You spoke to her, she sighed happily going back to her books as you left to go and answer the bell that had been ringing, it was the latest delivery of books that had been ordered in. Josh was standing there with a clipboard and a box that looked relatively heavy.

"Has the person renting the apartment been by yet?" The delivery boy - Josh - asked as he handed you a box full of books, you grunted putting them down behind the counter. Everyone you were close with knew the ins and outs of the shop and were interested to see who you'd finally decided to rent the apartment out to.

"Not yet, I'm sure they'll turn up soon though. I can't believe someone wants that place, no one's been up there in years." You said as you began singing on the small pad he was holding out for you. The bookshop you worked in had two apartments above it, the bookshop was the bottom and basement floor - the basement was mostly used for storage. Then the apartments were on the second and third floors both of them relatively big to say they were just some small apartments. 

The third floor was one that an ex-boyfriend of yours had stayed in over the summer four years ago since then no one had rented the apartment out. Mostly because you never advertised it anymore, the thought of someone going up there...Being there where your memories were didn't sit right with you but when someone called to book it you couldn't say no. So you had to venture up there the other day when you had to clean it out since Grace was far too old to come to the shop and do it herself. She struggled walking around alone nevermind climbing up all those stairs and cleaning.

"I hope so anyway, I didn't clean that place out for nothing." You joked as Josh bean walking out of the door and left you to deal with the boxes in front of you. Most of them were on the History of Paris and some were old cliche romances that Grace had clearly snuck onto the order, she was a sucker for the cliches and as much as it pained you to admit it...So were you. The cliche romances where there are two people one bed or enemies to lovers...They were always a favourite of yours.

This was not how Jungkook wanted to spend his holiday, he'd been longing to stay in that apartment since it was where all of his memories were but seeing you there sent him into a wave of emotions, mostly guilt for what he'd done to you. How things had ended between you both wasn't the best of ways. 

The Hotel Antoniette was the hotel he'd found the quickest, it was close to the bookshop in case he found himself brave enough to head inside at a later date. The hotel was huge and elaborate, probably since it had been a palace belonging to a French Aristocracy. It was close to the Tuileries Garden and the Louvre which he adored, he could remember all of the times he'd spent roaming around the museum and the garden with you hand in hand as you spoke about your day in the shop and his time in Paris. Back then you had no idea who he was, to you he was just Jungkook who'd been travelling on his break from college to come and see Paris and decided to stay a little longer for the ''view'.' Which of course, the view was you. He wished he'd been honest with you about who he really was. Maybe none of it would have happened. Maybe you would have somehow made it all work out, he could still be happy with you.  

His suite was right on the top floor - the best that money could buy him, he figured it would bring more privacy if he could just hide out in the hotel room most of the days. He was sure he could find something to occupy his mind if he did end up stuck here. The room had french-style windows that opened up onto a balcony giving him the most magnificent view of Paris he pushed the doors open to look at the fairy lights on the Effiel Tower in the pitch-black night. He kept his eyes on the structure, watching the way all the lights changed somehow making them look like stars. It was stunning to look at but his mind was going back to you in that book shop. He wondered how you were, How you'd been doing over the last four years and if you'd even remember him but, of course, you would. How could you after what you went through together? That kind of love couldn't have been one-sided and he doubted you could forget it so easily. 

Trying to distract himself he went back into his suite to go and unpack his bag, the whole place was like a huge apartment all decorated in white with marble counters. The bedding was a pale-peach kind of colour stacked high with pillows that he had no idea how he was going to get back onto the bed the next morning when he got up. He slid his bag over to the dressing room and almost dropped the case on the spot, it was only half of the size of the bedroom and it was lined wall to wall with mirrors all doubling as wardrobes he could see himself in every square inch of the room so he began unpacking as quickly as he could, making a promise to himself not to go in there at night time because it scared him. The thought of walking into a dark room and catching his own reflection...He'd seen enough horror movies to know better than that.

By the time he got back out of the hotel it was getting close to 10:30 pm and he wanted to stop by the shop one last time, just to see you and maybe try to speak to you. He had his hat on, hoodie pulled around his body with some shorts on since it was summer and quite warm at night, most of the shops were already closing up but he noticed the lights inside the book store were all on. 

"Grace I can lock up alone," Your voice came out smooth as you spoke the small old lady who'd been outside of the shop earlier when Jungkook had been there confirming it to be Grace. You slid a cup of what looked like something hot into her hand it was steaming and Jungkook scoffed. Who could drink hot drinks in this weather? It was far too hot for that. It was much better to have a cold drink on a night like this.

"How was your day?" Grace questioned you sitting back against an armchair that was inside of the shop, Jungkook remembered picking the chair out with you at a car boot sale you both went to. He remembered taking it back to the shop in a struggle before the both of you curled up to sleep in it. The chair wasn't huge but it was comfy enough to take a nap together there for an hour or two until he woke up and had a dead arm from the position you'd fallen asleep in. Jungkook felt like such a creep for watching through the giant glass window but there was something about you that was different that he couldn't put his finger on. 

"It was okay, Josh came by with a new delivery. How was your day Areum?" You called out behind Grace, Jungkook wondered who Areum was who you seemed to change your tone for. Your tone went from soft to even softer as you looked down at someone. Jungkook remembered you mentioning the name a lot around him but he knew it wasn't one of your friends. All of your friends had french snotty names which were one of the reasons he never wanted to meet them, that and he couldn't risk them knowing who he was and blabbing it to the press that he was in Paris with a girl.

"Areum, how was your day?!" Grace asked politely and a small girl came out from one of the bookshelves dressed in a Princess dress twirling around and waving a wand in the air, Jungkook's mouth fell open as his eyes landed on the small girl. Her hair was long to the lower of her back it was curled at the ends and she had the biggest smiles he'd ever seen on her face as she twirled around and around in one spot. 

As he finally got a good look at her his heart sank to the floor as he realised she was the spitting image of him, she had his smile, his eyes and hair colour even the little dimple that he had on his left cheek. He stumbled into a metal table knocking it over and knocking the sign to the shop over, you laughed looking up to see which drunken idiot had knocked it over this time but the smile faded from your lips as soon as you locked eyes with him outside of the window. Your heart began to pound as you stared at one another, your mouth falling into an 'O' shape the longer you watched him. Part of you was praying it was just your eyes playing tricks on you. 

"Y/n?" Everyone was in the background as you stared at Jungkook through the window swallowing the huge lump in your throat. No one else in the room mattered now that your eyes were on him. Grace followed your gaze wondering what the big deal was when she saw the same boy from before standing there. Both of you having a stare off as you looked at one another through the giant window. 

"He was outside earlier! I told you he was a creep, I'll ring the police." You shook your head rapidly, taking her hand away from the shop phone and telling her to take Areum up the staircase instead. Grace nodded rushing your very confused daughter up the stairs in the back of the shop while Jungkook made his way into the shop, red in the face as he looked at the small girl. All of the dots in his head connecting to get a different image but one still remained as he watched the small girl. Her eyes locking with his as it hit him, 

"Y/n...Is she mine?"

MASTERLIST || NEXT

A/N: Just an introduction chapter but what do you guys think so far? 💞✨ If you’d like to be added to a tagline for it let me know 

@taestannie @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @rjsmochii​ @innersooya​

[panda-noosh]

taste test {kaz brekker x reader}

   there are guests today.

    little information was given to you, but you don’t mind; you’re not here to entertain anyone. you’re here to do your job and move on. who the king associates with is honestly none of your concern. 

   you’ll leave the assassins to the royal guards.

    you wake on the day to witness the palace in hysterics. chefs bustle around like headless chickens, maids and butlers ironing uniforms that have not had a crinkle in them since the war. the scent of food - a cacophany of it - rises to the surface, making you crinkle your nose at the onslaught of different options. all you want is a slice of toast to prepare you for the day, but the thought of walking into that kitchen has you cuddling up in bed for a few minutes longer.

    you’ll have to eat that food pretty soon. just a small bite, just enough to get a taste. a hint. 

   you close your eyes.

    the peace doesn’t last long, because it never does. a knock sounds at your door, startling you from your reverie. you roll over, not even bothering to cover yourself when you call out, “come in!”

    a palace guard - rico - peaks his bald head round the door and raises a brow. “still sleeping?”

   “clearly not.”

    “good. you need to be up and at your post in thirty minutes; we have guests today.”

   you pull the quilt over your head. “don’t remind me.” you peak an eye over the top, raising a brow. “who are the guests?”

   rico narrows his eyes. “you haven’t been told?”

   “well, no. i never really asked.”

    “then i’ll leave it as a surprise.” he claps his hands, like you’re some kind of dog. “get ready. i don’t want to come back up here again.”

   “then don’t,” you reply, but he’s already disappeared.

    you drag yourself from bed to do as he ordered. there’s no point arguing with the palace guards - they seem to think they own the place, even though they live basically under the thumb of every other individual walking the grounds. even you, the lowest of the low, can manipulate them into doing what you want if you just try hard enough. a few sweet words and a confident tone, and they’re like putty in your hands.

    but the truth is, you don’t care enough about todays events to put on that confident tone. you pull your clothes on, fiddle with your bow tie, and head downstairs to see what the day has in store for you.

    breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

    a risky day ahead.

    you’re required to be at the kings side long before the guests arrive. you’ve never questioned it. the rules of the palace have never made any sense to you, but you go along with them, because you don’t want to get into any more trouble than you already have. that’s why you find yourself stood by the kings side in silence, hands clasped in front of you, trays of delicious breakfast foods being delivered by hasty, sweaty porters.

    the dining room is swathed in beautiful decor. banners hang from the ceiling, red and gold colours matching the grand wallpaper all around. the fancy carpet has been rolled out, tucked beneath the long, mahogany dining table and stretching all the way to the double doors ready to greet the guests. 

   even the king is dressed well for the occasion, which is another surprise. though the king hardly looks like a peasant, he makes a point to put in as little effort with his appearance as possible, just to show people that he can get anyone to fear him from personality alone. his riches and fancy fabrics have nothing to do with his power.

    but today he wears his finest silk coat, the buttons straining against his round stomach. his beard has been freshly trimmed, and you watch his hand rock back and forth amongst the hairs. a few stray ones float from his chin to the table, and you quickly swipe them away. the king doesn’t even notice; he continues staring at the doors, one dark skinned knuckle tight around the arms of his throne-like chair. 

     finally, after what feels like forever, the double doors up ahead are pushed open. two palace guards dressed in red hold them in place, and a man is ushered in.

    a man you recognise immediately.

    he’s got a cane now, which is different. there’s those gloves on his hands, the sides of his head still shaved, with that shaggy, dark mess still perched on top, a school boys haircut that looks most out of place on someone with blood on his hands. he’s frowning, because that’s what kaz brekker does - the king shows his power through his booming voice and cruel choices. kaz brekker shows his power through his expressions. 

    you don’t meet his eyes, though you don’t look away. kaz has his gaze on the king, not even noticing you standing at his side, and for that you are thankful; you don’t think you want to look into those blue eyes again. you promised yourself you wouldn’t, not before the nightmares disappear.

    the king slowly stands. he rubs his beard one final time for good measure before saying, “you’re late, kaz.”

    “call me mr brekker,” kaz replies, before gesturing to an empty seat at the end of the table - the seat farthest from the king. “shall we sit?”

    you swallow; you’re familiar with this attitude from him, but you’ve been in the kings presence too long now to pretend kaz isn’t on thin ice. 

    the king, however, is clearly in a docile mood, as he nods and sits down. the food in the centre of the table goes unnoticed for a while as the two stare at each other, waiting for the other to crack and begin the conversation. you fiddle with your fingers, uncertain whether kaz has seen you, whether he recognises you, whether he’s just keeping a straight face because he’s kaz, and he’s a professional.

    finally, the king clicks his fingers at you. “stack my plate. you know the drill.”

   you burst into action, bustling round the table, scooping up different assortments of breakfast foods you know the king enjoys; he’s got his bacon, and his eggs, and the bread, pancakes on the side. you slather beans along the rim of his plate and place a single hash brown in the residue, just as he likes it.

   and then you sit down, and pick apart the entire thing.

    you can feel kaz’s eyes burning into you as you work, but you pay him no attention. you have to focus, because this is kind of a life or death situation. you sniff the food first, though this very rarely shows you anything you might need to worry about. it’s too fresh, still warm in your fingers when you lift it to your nose. you can smell only the warmth of it all, but you take the precaution anyway, just to show the king you know what you’re doing.

    and then you nibble the edges, heart thumping with nerves rather than poison entering your body. that’s what you’re looking for - poison, an assassination attempt. even in his own palace, the king is paranoid. his own staff have turned against him before. you’re not entirely surprised.

    you chew, swallow, pause, repeat.

    “all clear.”

   you hand the plate back, tuck your hands in your lap and look down at the table at kaz. he’s staring at you, an eyebrow raised, and you understand immediately that he recognises you, probably knew you worked here before he even entered the premise.

   was he here for you?

   you banish the thought and look away. you wait until the king has started digging in before excusing yourself and exiting, your job for the morning complete. at lunch, you will have to repeat the process, and again at dinner, but until then, you have the morning to yourself.

    you walk through the gardens, because fresh air is all you need right now. your heart is hammering, and you curse yourself for it - kaz brekker has not been in your life for months. he shouldn’t have a grip on you. he shouldn’t even know you are here, and yet he does, because of course he does. kaz doesn’t step foot anywhere until he knows the ins-and-outs of the entire place. he keeps his ducks all in a neat row, and you were a fool to believe you had escaped it.

    it’s not like kaz is a bad man. he’s evil, certainly, with horrible actions under his belt, but you can understand his reasoning. he kills a man, and maybe that’s an overexaggeration, but the man was also seconds away from traumatising a poor woman walking home from work. kaz takes a life, saving the day in the process. it’s how he works, how he’s always worked for as long as you’ve known him.

   and you’ve known him for a while.

   you haven’t been by his side in months, but someone like kaz brekker is someone you never forget. once you know kaz, you never stop knowing him, which is a curse more than anything else. oh, how you wish you could wipe the slate clean, pretend you never got involved with him and his gang in the first place. but that was your decision - your stupid, careless decision - and you need to face the consequences.

    having him here, at your place of work, was a consequence.

    you sit down by the stream just outside the palace grounds. a duckling struts past, paying you no attention whatsoever. a stray lilipad floats gently through the water, spurred on by the tiny breeze ketterdam has for you today.

     you like to come here sometimes, just to clear your head a little bit. nobody else bothers with the nice scenery and the nature; they think it’s a waste of time. if it wasn’t for the gardener, this place would be a wasteland, left to shrivel and disappear into shadow. you’re thankful it’s been kept pleasant, though - it’s a good place for someone who wants to have no thoughts for a little while.

    you lean down and run your fingertips along the water. it’s cold, and a weed gets tangled between your fingers. you lift it from the water with a wince, flicking your wrist to get it off-

    a cane clamps down on your fingers, shoving your hand into the grass.

   you inhale sharply, straightening up but not turning around.

    “so easy to startle,” kaz hums. “you’re losing your touch, y/n.”

    you twist your hand and catch the bottom of his cane, using it to pull yourself to your feet. kaz doesn’t stumble, but you never expected him to; kaz doesn’t stumble. he’s much too stubborn for that.

    you whirl around, and there he is, that frown on his face, his head tilted like he’s analysing you even before you’ve said two words. a heat festers in your belly. you don’t know if you want to hug him or slam your fist into his nose. 

    “so this is where you ended up, is it?” he glances at the grand gardens, the glistening lake, the ducklings swimming past. “you’ve surprised me, i gotta say. i never thought you’d be into such grandeur.”

   you fold your arms over your chest, cheeks heating up. you will admit, the palace is certainly not the place you thought to find yourself, either; after living in the barrel your entire life, you had grown used to dirt stained clothes, weeks without washing, hunger pains. this was different. this was a different type of hell, a hell in fancy clothes.

    “cat got your tongue?” kaz continues, swinging that stupid cane back and forth. “shame. i think we have a lot to talk about.”

   “why are you here?”

   “ah, asking the right questions now!”

   “just tell me, kaz. tell me, and then we can go our separate ways - just like you wanted.”

    his expression falters for a moment, so quick that it’s clear he doesn’t want you noticing the power you still have over him, even just a little. 

    “fine,” he says. “let’s walk.”

   you do just that, hands tucked into pockets, head tilted down. it’s easier to talk to him when you’re not subject to his facial expressions, too - handling both of them is too much. 

    “you want to know why i’m here,” he begins. “i’m here looking for you.”

    your stomach drops, even though that was kind of what you were expecting. 

    he pauses, giving you a chance to fill in the silence with your own thoughts, but you don’t even look up.

    he barrels on. “we had a tip-off from someone that you were working here now. no one else believed it, but me? i know you a little better than them. i was surprised, but i could picture it. you’ve always been irrational when you’re desperate.”

   you wince. “you don’t know me at all, kaz.”

    he smiled at the sky in response, like you had walked into his trap.

    “i hope you didn’t come here thinking you can coax me back to the barrel,” you continue. “that’s not going to happen.”

    his jaw clenches, head still tilted towards the sun. his skin is a little darker now, a little more tan. he’s probably been out and about, you think, causing havok in the sunshine, ruining people’s holidays because he can.

    “i thought you would say that,” he says. “so i’m bringing the problem to you.”

   you nearly stumble. “what?” freezing in the middle of the path, you grab his arm and whirl him around, forcing him to look at you. “what have you done, kaz? what problem?”

    “she asked for you.”

    “kaz-”

   “inej is sick.”

    your breath falters. those words, so simple, yet so . . . unexpected. inej ghafa - the wraith, your best friend, the girl designed to be indestructible. that’s why kaz picked her. that’s why she worked alongside you. that’s what made you the best damn crew in ketterdam.

    “sick.” 

    kaz nods, shrugging his arm from your grip. “sick. ill. not well. poorly. whatever you want to call it. she’s not doing good, and the only person she’s asking for is you.”

    “so where is she?” you whirl around. “is she here?”

   “not walking alongside us, no.”

   you scowl. “i mean at the palace, kaz. is she at the palace?”

   “she will be.” kaz pulls a golden watch from his pocket. “in about three hours. that should give your employer plenty of time to set my room up and make some space in the hospital wing, don’t you think?”

   you close your eyes, trying desperately to steady the thumping of your heart. he could be lying, and you know that, but what if he isn’t? what is inej really is on her death bed, and you never even got to say goodbye?

    the thought terrifies you to the point your hands begin to tremble. when you open your eyes, kaz is staring at them, and you’re almost certain there is something close to pity sparking there.

   you quickly snap your arms behind your back and nod. “fine. okay. i’ll see her. but once i’ve done what i can, you leave. both of you.”

    kaz studies your face. the fire in your stomach burns even brighter, forcing you to look away and keep walking.

    kaz follows, all soft footsteps. “i’m not here to bring up the past, y/n. i hope you know that.”

    “you can understand why i find that hard to believe.”

   “well, yes. but i’m serious. what we had, it means nothing now. you’re a different person, and so am i. we can let it go.”

    you swallow the lump in your throat, trying to pretend those words are exactly what you wanted to hear. but a knot twists in your heart, almost to the point of pain.

   you take a deep breath and glance at him over your shoulder. he’s only a few steps behind, but his presence is so large, so there that you nearly trip. 

   and then you say, “we never had anything, kaz. remember that.”

----

   it’s like you’re trying to hurt each other.

   that’s how it’s always been between you and kaz, but at one point, it felt natural. it was a bit of fun. a few snide remarks here and there, followed by kaz confessing he thinks your eyes are a very pretty colour. a bit of sparring, followed by you telling kaz he’s the most important person in your life. 

   this time, however, the mere sight of him is a torment, one you don’t find fun in the slightest.

    the king tasks you with leading kaz through the palace. this was a job you fully expected to be given, but it doesn’t make it any easier. kaz stops to examine every little thing, tracing his fingers along artefacts you would be murdered for touching.     

   you swat his hand away when he reaches for a bust of the kings father. “stop it. if you knock that over, he’ll have you hanged.”

    kaz raises a brow before touching a gloved fingertip to the stone. you groan and march off, trying to ignore the butterflies at the sound of his soft, hidden chuckle echoing behind you.   

   you show him his room, a beautifully decorated space much grander than any room the king has ever given you. kaz whistles when he walks in, looking at the wine bucket on his chest of drawers, and the freshly made bed with the thick linens, and a view to die for.

    “spoiled,” he says.

   you roll your eyes. “i’ll leave you to get comfortable.”

    “or.” he whirls, catching your arm. his fingers slot in the crook of your elbow, the leather of his gloves sparking unwanted familiarity within you. “you can stay, and we can talk some more.”

   “i have things to do, kaz.” you rip your arm from his grip. “the king will be having lunch soon, and i need to be there.”

    kaz scoffs, slowly sliding the knot out of his tie and slipping it from beneath his collar, like undressing in front of you is no big deal. “so you can do what? potentially die? you know, y/n, i once thought you were a tough son of a bitch, but the longer i’m here, the more i’m realising just how weak you are.”

    ouch.

   “we’ve all got to make a living somehow,” you reply. “you murder people, i keep the king safe.”

    “the same king you wanted to assassinate a few months ago?” he tilts his head, pursing his lips. “what a drastic change of heart.”

   “go to hell, kaz.”

    he raises a hand. “wait for me outside; i’ll come to lunch with you and your king.”

   you pause. “has he invited you?”

   “i don’t need an invite.”

    “you’re not permitted to be there-”

   “i’ll be there.” he starts unbuttoning his shirt. “i want to watch you in action. you’ve always been very good in action.” he smirks, and you know he’s just teasing you, trying to get a reaction. your cheeks heat up, but you quickly turn on your heel and scurry out before he can notice. 

    you don’t wait on him outside. instead, you hurry to the dining hall, where the king is already seated. he looks up when you enter, fingers already tangled in his beard. his wife sits beside him, grand and tall and everything a queen should be. she scowls when you enter, but you ignore her, immediately taking your seat by the king and fanning a napkin over your lap.

    “sorry,” you say. “kaz brekker kept me.”

    “it’s mr brekker,” the queen snaps. “have some respect for our guests.”

   “y/n can call me kaz.”

   you close your eyes, listening to the thump of his feet and cane against the carpet. 

   “y/n can call me kaz,” he repeats, lowering himself in the chair at the head of the table. “mr brekker is a little too formal for them.”

     “mr brekker,” the queen exclaims, fanning her reddening face. “i wasn’t aware you would be joining us for lunch!” 

   you nearly roll your eyes at her flustered state - okay, so kaz is attractive. he’s also half her age.

    kaz leans back in his seat, tapping his fingertips together. “oh, no, i’m not eating. i’m just here to observe.” at the confused silence, he shrugs. “i have nothing better to do, and i’ve always been fascinated with the hobbies y/n takes on. such a talented soul they are.”

    you’ve never heard kaz speak so formal before, and you have half a mind to laugh. instead, you glance over to see his own lips trembling in his attempts to keep a straight face - he finds this just as amusing as you do. messing with the royals, it’s all a game to him. they are the fools. 

    “do you two know each other?” the king asks, handing you his stacked plate.

   “no,” you snap. kaz grins behind his glove, staring at you over his fingers as you hasten to add, “no, we don’t. i just met him today.”

    the king nods slowly, not quite sure whether to believe you or not. you don’t give him a chance to doubt any further before picking up your knife and fork and cutting a small chunk from a slice of tofu. you go through the usual routine with everything on his plate, but all the while, kaz stares. you feel his eyes like a fire sinking into the side of your face, putting you off from paying proper attention. you pop the cut-off’s in your mouth and chew, turning to meet his gaze, as if making eye contact with him is some kind of power move. however, he actually looks a bit. . . worried? concerned? you’ve never seen that expression on his face before, and it makes your stomach flip as you swallow the food.

    you give a final nod, handing the plate back to the king. you repeat the process with the queen before standing, straightening your trousers and excusing yourself.

    kaz’s chair screeches as he stands.

    “mr brekker, would you not care for some lunch?” the queen asks.

    “no.” he turns and follows you out the dining room, catching your arm when you try and run. “what the hell?”

    you spin, snatching your arm away. “can you stop grabbing me?”

    “what happens if their food actually has been poisoned?”

    “then i get poisoned.”

   he raises a brow, skin paling. “and do they have someone on hand for if that happens?”

   “on hand to do what?”

   “don’t play stupid, y/n. on hand to save your fucking life.”

   you scowl; it’s been a long time since you’ve heard kaz curse, and it shames you to feel the same thrill run over you. 

    “i get sent to the infirmary,” you reply. “but it’s never happened before.”

    “never happened-” he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “this is the kind of life you want to live? you left the barrel for this?”

    “no life is as bad as the barrel.”

    kaz’s lips tighten, eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment before he opens them again and says, “you left the place where people loved you, cared about you, and you came here. to this shit hole. you’re risking your life for them, and you have the nerve to tell me this life isn’t as bad as the barrel?”

    even to you it sounds ridiculous, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. 

    “the barrel wasn’t a life,” you say. “the barrel was a beginning for me, but i’ve moved on.”

    “you don’t move on from that.”

   “maybe not mentally, but i can damn well get away physically.” you lean in, lowering your voice. “i just wish you’d let me.”

    his eyes scan your face, drawing attention to just how close you are to him. his breath fans your cheeks. you can make out every line on his lips, every crease in his face. you could lean forward if you wanted to, close that distance.

    you step back, once again straightening your trousers. “tell me when inej arrives and i’ll come meet her in the infirmary.”

    kaz doesn’t say anything. he watches you leave, and part of you - a retched, traitorous part - is disappointed he doesn’t follow. 

   ----

    inej really is sick.

   “so it’s true,” you say, sauntering into the infirmary. “the wraith has been beaten.”

    you’re trying to jest, but there’s little humour to be felt when she looks like that. her dark skin is pale and sickly, warm drops of sweat clinging to her forehead and rolling down her neck. she’s dressed in only a thin night gown, revealing collar bones and stretched skin where her muscles once were. 

   she looks up, bloodshot eyes meeting your own, and even in sickness, she manages a smile when she sees you. that’s enough to have you breaking. you rush to her bedside and bundle her in your arms, nearly sobbing with relief at the feel of her pressed against you, her hands in your hair, her mouth inches from your ear.

   she whispers, “it’s you.”

   you pull away, nodding. “yes. it’s me.”

    “what are you doing here?”

    you pull a chair over and sit down. “that’s not important.”

    “yes, it is.”

   “i’ll explain later.” you lean forward, pushing a strand of hair away from her face. “you talk first; what’s going on?”

   inej coughs into her elbow; something rattles in your throat, and you try desperately to hide your wince. “i just got sick. i fell in the brig a few days ago, and i don’t think the water was very healthy.”

   “of course it wasn’t,” you grumble. “it’s the barrel, you stupid girl. what did you expect?”

    “i cleaned myself pretty well afterwards,” she defends. 

   “clearly not well enough.” you place a hand to her cheek. “has anyone come to see you?”

   “some man in a coat,” she replies, nuzzling down in the pillows. “he checked my temperature and my blood pressure and all that stuff. said he’d be back soon.”

   “and he didn’t seem . . . concerned?”

   inej shrugs. “i didn’t look him in the eye. men like him don’t sit right with me, y/n. i let him do his job, but i’m not looking at him. i’m not giving him ideas.”

   you nod. there is a silence, but those are okay between you and inej. 

    finally, you reach over and take her hand. her palms are clammy, cold, but her grip is strong. 

    “i’m sorry i wasn’t there to help you.”

    her head snaps around, eyes widening. “y/n-”

   “i know you always say you understand why i left, but it’s just. . . i don’t know. i feel guilty about it. i feel selfish sometimes, and you’ve had to travel all the way here whilst you’re in this state all because i wasn’t there to-”

    “has kaz been making you feel guilty?”

   your mouth snaps closed. “i don’t. . . i don’t think so?”

    inej sighs, head dropping back into the pillows. “don’t listen to him. i understand why you left; i always have. kaz just. . . i don’t think he ever got over it when you disappeared. it was like a part of him went with you.” she shrugs. “a part of him did go - you.”

    silence again, because you have no idea how to respond to that. kaz was hurt when you left, and you know that, but he’s kaz. he’s tough. he’s been through everything a person should never have to go through. the thought of his final straw being you is almost laughable to think about.

    “he loved you,” inej continues, even though you don’t want her to. “he really, really loved you.”

    “past tense,” you whisper. “not any more.”

    inej smiles sadly, and that’s all you need to see to understand you’re right - he’s moved on. he’s here with you now, but that means nothing in the grand scheme of things. he’s here on business. he doesn’t care about you, and he said it himself - whatever the two of you had is gone, non-existent. you thought you had come to terms with that, but seeing the confirmation on inej’s face makes you feel suddenly exhausted.

    “well this isn’t about kaz and i,” you say, pulling your shoulders back. “come on. tell me what’s been going on since i left.”

   ---

    you’re trying to sleep when you hear the bang.

    trying being the key word. always. every night, you put your best efforts into drifting to sleep, but it never seems to work how you want it to. you toss and turn for hours on end, drifting in and out of your associative state, but not really falling asleep. time just passes, and then it’s day time, and you’re working again.

   tonight is no different.

   the bang is loud, just next door to your room. your ears immediately prick - the palace guards aren’t moving towards it. you’re already awake, so you may as well see to it yourself.

   you swing your legs out of bed, grab your dressing gown and walk into the hallway. glancing back and forth, you see nothing out of the ordinary.

   the bang sounds again.

   you narrow your eyes, walking further down the hallway. turning a corner, the bang sounds one final time before a pair of shoes flies at the wall and crashes to the floor in a heap.

   you rush forward, eyes wide. “what the-”

   kaz spins, another pair of expensive shoes already in his hand. “oh. did i wake you?”

    dazed, you snatch the shoes into your possession and toss them to the floor. “what the fuck are you doing, kaz? people are trying to sleep!”

    “i was also trying to sleep,” kaz replies. “i am one of those people, so why are you yelling at me?”

   you rub your eyes in frustration - sometimes talking to him is like pulling teeth.

   “oh, come on,” kaz says. “i was just doing a bit of late night cleaning. this room is a fucking shit hole.”

    you raise a brow, sighing. “what are you on about? this room was pristine when you came.”

    “yeah, well, i thought so too. and then i found this.” he motions for you to enter the room, and though you know it’s a bad idea, you do so. he hooks his foot around something beneath his bed, and pulls out a box overflowing with expensive shoes.

   you narrow your eyes. “what’s the problem?”

   “rich men shoes,” he says, like that explains everything. after knowing kaz as deeply as you do, it kind of does make sense.

   you sigh again, kicking the box back beneath the bed. “go to sleep, kaz.”

    “i can’t.”

    “try.”

   “you know i can’t.”

   you pause, overcome with a sudden chill. you wrap the dressing gown tighter around your body, trying to refrain from looking at him - he’s still dressed in the fancy clothes he wore this morning, but the top button is pulled loose, and his hair is a mess. his eyes droop a little, evidence that he really wants to sleep, but genuinely just can’t.

   and you know why.

   “i’m not asking you to stay with me,” he continues, grabbing a pair of socks from the floor. “i’m just saying - you have no right telling me to sleep when you know what it’s like.”

    “are they bad again?”

    kaz purses his lips. “they’ve been bad for a while.”

   a while. that’s how he always phrases it. when he says it’s been a while, he means it’s been a while since you left the crows, left him. 

    you swallow, looking to the ceiling like the intricate design will give you clarity. “i can get you tea or something. a fresh blanket. whiskey.”

    “trying to get me drunk?”

   “kaz, i’m serious.” you meet his eyes. “you look terrible.”

    he laughs, a sly sound that reeks more of danger than amusement. “thank you.”

    “let me get you something.” you turn, but he catches your elbow. you glance back just as he drops his hand like your flesh has burned him, an uncharacteristic redness adorning his cheeks.

   “didn’t mean to touch you,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “but i’m serious; i don’t need anything. it’s useless anyway.”

    everything is useless. every remedy he’s ever been given has never worked. the only remedy for insomnia that has worked for kaz brekker is you.

   but you can’t do that to him. you can’t do that to yourself. 

    “okay,” you mumble. “just. . . stop making so much noise, alright?”

   “did i really wake you?”

    “i couldn’t sleep either.”

    you stare at each other. it’s like you’re waiting for the other to break. you hate that you kind of want him to break.

    his adams apple bobs. “make yourself some tea, then. i’ll be a bit quieter.”

    you nod. “thanks.”

   “how’s inej, by the way? did you see her?”

    “i did. she seems. . . okay.” you shrug. “the doctors are going to do everything they can to help her get back to normal. then you can go back to the barrel.”

    kaz nods, though his movements are slower this time around, shoulders a little more slumped. neither of you say anything else as you walk out, tugging your dressing gown a little tighter around your body. 

   you don’t take his advice. you don’t need tea, or whiskey, or a fresh blanket; with kaz’s words and his expressions and him, you know there is no way you’re getting to sleep any time soon, no matter what remedy you use.

    ----

     “good morning, royalty.”

    the king looks up from his breakfast, the very breakfast you have just tested for poison. it sits weirdly in your stomach this morning; after a sleepless night, your appetite has deserted you, but you have no choice besides eating.

   kaz strolls into the room, dressed in a suit. his white shirt sits against his chest, and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal the crow tattoo on his arm. you awkwardly rub your own crow tattoo, suddenly very aware of how permanent it is.

    “good morning, mr brekker,” the king says. “again, you surprise me with your presence. we weren’t expecting you for breakfast.”

    “i am just full of surprises.” he sits down in his usual seat and meets your eyes. “how are you this morning, y/n?”

    “y/n was just about to leave,” the king replies, as you knew he would; he likes hearing your voice as little as possible. 

    kaz, however, keeps his eyes on you. “i asked y/n. not you.”

    you stare straight at him, a silent warning. “i’m good, mr brekker. well-rested.”

    “you can call me kaz.” he leans back, grinning. “i’m glad to hear it. maybe you and i can take a walk amongst the duck pond again later on.”

   there he goes, putting on that god awful formal accent that he thinks is so funny. 

    you scowl. “i’m a bit busy today, mr brekker.”

   “kaz.”

   “he asked you to call him kaz, y/n,” the king snaps.

   kaz nods. “i asked you to call me kaz, y/n.”

   you bite your lip, pushing back the retort that so desperately wants to rise. he’s just sat there, grinning with no shame. the king is looking straight at him, and he doesn’t even care.

    “any duties you’ve been given today can be postponed until later,” the king says. “mr brekker is our guest, and if he wants your company, your company he shall receive.”

    kaz’s grin gets wider, and oh, you want so desperately to punch him square in the face. instead, you force a smile, turning to the king to tell him just how honoured you would be to give kaz brekker your company on this fine morning.

   and that’s how you find yourself strolling through the gardens with kaz, yet again.

    “you’re unbelieable,” you mumble, arms folded over your chest like a school kid having a tantrum. 

    “i’m good,” he replies. “you know i’m good, y/n. i don’t know why you act surprised.”

    “he’s the king, kaz,” you hiss. “can you not tone it down a little?”

   “tone what down?”

   “the-” you gesture vaguely, though the only word you can conjure is flirting, and there’s no way in hell you’re letting that slip into the conversation. “the shit. tone down the shit!”

   “i’m not scared of him. i know you want me to be, but i’m not.”

    “oh yes. how could i forget? kaz brekker isn’t scared of anything.”

    kaz scoffs. “kaz brekker is scared of plenty of things - men aren’t one of them.”

   such a kaz thing to say. the most frustrating bit about it was that he was telling the truth.

    “i told inej what your job is here,” he continues after a moment of tense silence.  

   “oh?”

   “she understands. says you’ve always been one to do anything to survive.”

   you shrug. she’s right. 

    “that worries me, you know.”

    “nothing worries you, kaz.”

   “the thought of you in danger does.”

   you shake your head. “don’t start this now. you said it yourself; what we had was nothing.”

    “why can’t i worry about you without it having to mean something bigger?”

    “because everything you say means something bigger.”

   kaz falls silent. he knows it’s true, and so do you. kaz has never been able to speak his full extent, always letting people think less of him so he can take them by surprise when the time is right. you have learned first hand how frustrating that can be, but it was also a part of him you grew to love. it was what made him so intelligent, so cunning. it was what made him kaz. 

 “are you not ever worried you’re going to get unlucky one day?”

   you glance over. he keeps his head ducked down, one hand curled around the head of his cane, the other tucked into his pocket. “i know what i signed up for. getting poisoned was kind of part of the risk.”

    “since when did you even know how to identify poisons?”

   your lips twitch. “jesper taught me.”

   kaz rolls his eyes skyward, running a hand through his hair; the sun glows against his tan skin. “of course he did. honestly, the shit you two got up to when i wasn’t around-”

    “we had fun,” you say. “we could only do that when you weren’t hovering over our shoulders.”

   kaz glares. 

   you look to the floor, afraid to smile at him, afraid to open this conversation into something even mildly pleasant; if you can get through this entire visit without thinking of kaz fondly, maybe it will make all of it a bit easier. maybe you’ll be able to trick yourself into thinking you’ve moved on, grown stronger since your time in the barrel.

        “how is jesper?” you ask, because you suddenly feel like you can’t help it.

   kaz shrugs. “how jesper always is.”

    “worse?”

    “for a while. he didn’t take you leaving very well, but he straightened himself out.” kaz tugs on his lapels. “he always does.”

    “yeah. he does.”    

    you wonder about jesper sometimes. it hurts to know he took your leave badly, though you should have known; jesper has never been one to handle his feelings well. that was your job on his behalf. you would often sit with him at night, just to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. you once handcuffed him to his bed post to stop him heading out into the gambling hall of the hotel you were staying in.

    he was the only one you could ever really properly speak to about what was going on between you and kaz. inej understood kaz, but jesper was kaz’s right-hand man. he was the one kaz would go to about things like that.

    “does jesper know how to make your brew?”

    there is no moment of confusion, like he was expecting the question. “i’m sure he does. i never ask him to make it, though.”

    your nostrils flare. “kaz-”

   “listen, the nightmares aren’t going to disappear,” he says, raising a silencing hand that you swat away before he can think it works. “i don’t need some special brew helping me sleep.”

   “no, you’ll just stay awake until you drop dead.”

   kaz grins, sharp as knives. “that’ll be the way to go, won’t it?”

   you shove his shoulder, suddenly furious. he looks over, still grinning, because kaz has always found your frustration amusing. he used to say you looked like a chipmunk who just got their nuts stolen.

    “for someone so smart,” you hiss, “you’re pretty stupid.”

   “because i won’t indulge in your famous sleep remedy?”

   “because you’ll let yourself suffer before asking for help.”

    his smile fades. “i only ask certain people for help, y/n. it’s not my fault those people keep leaving.”

    your heart drops; there he goes again with the impersonal little jabs, knowing he’s cutting you so, so deep. you don’t even humour him with a response, instead quickening your pace until you begin to feel like he isn’t even there.

    but that’s impossible, because he’s kaz brekker. he’s yours. even when he truly isn’t there, it’s like he’s walking right beside you, and you’re beginning to get very annoyed by the attachment. it’s not fair on you, and it’s not fair on kaz, but neither of you seem able to help it.

   you continue walking until the cold gets a little too much. then you head back to the palace in silence. 

----

    final meal of the day. you will make sure it’s not poisoned, and then you will go to bed.

    kaz is there, as per usual. the king and queen don’t even act shocked any more, simply welcoming him into the dining hall. oftentimes, he’ll stroll in by your side, his cane clicking against the marble and that smug little smile playing on his face. you always ignore him, even though the king says it’s disrespectful to do so. 

   tonight, you do just that. you take your seat beside the king, gather up his food and start the process. the beef is smothered in gravy, making the scent test a little difficult, but you give it a go anyway, because it’s protocol by now. 

   kaz watches from afar, one finger pressed to his lips. he’s lounging back like he’s comfortable, like sitting in a palace is what he does every day. his eyes are narrowed, focused.

    you pop the beef into your mouth and chew; nothing.

   you move onto the potatoes. nothing.

    finally, you dip your fork into the sweetcorn and raise it to your lips.

    kaz slaps the fork from your hand. he makes no noise. one minute he is sat at the head of the table, and the next he is by your side, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you from your seat.

   the queen shrieks as the fork flies directly at her, sweetcorn and all. a glass of wine tips over when kaz pulls you to your feet, your knee slamming against the underside of the table. palace guards run inside, but none of them know what to do - nobody in the room shouldn’t be there, and so they stand by the door, glancing at each other.

   your eyes, however, are trained on kaz.

   “what. the. fuck?” you hiss under your breath as the king tends to his startled wife.

   kaz meets your eyes dead on. “you really need to get better at your job.” he grabs your arm and starts for the door. the king hollers after him, demanding to know what is going on, but kaz pays him no attention, and you have no idea why you’re not fighting any of this. your heart is hammering in your chest at a million miles per hour, and you have so many questions, but it’s just reflex by now to trust kaz. 

    he drags you through the halls until reaching his room, where he pushes open the door and leads you inside. it is only then, when it is just the two of you, that you come to your senses, replaying that scene over and over in your head.

   you whirl around, yanking your arm from his grip so harshly that you stumble back. “what the hell was that, kaz?”

    “how much training did they actually give you before throwing you in to risk your life everyday?”

   “why do you care?”

   he starts pulling his tie loose, not even looking at you. “just tell me.”

   you fold your arms over your chest, trying desperately to keep your attention away from the way his gloved fingers tug and pull at the knot on his tie. “i did a course at the start where i could identify all the different types of poisons.”

   he quirks an eyebrow. “that all?”

   “it was enough.”

   “if it was enough, y/n, you would have noticed the soft spots in the sweetcorn.”

    your head snaps up. soft spots?

   he hums, despite you saying nothing in response. “wilde yolk makes food go soft in certain places. it also kills people in about ten seconds if consumed in even the tiniest amount.” he looks up, flicking his tie off completely. “did you not learn that in your course?”

   you bite your lip and look away. you were so distracted at that dinner table these days, focusing mostly on kaz brekker at the end of the table. you had no idea he was examining your food just as much as you should have been. you had no idea he was keeping an eye out for you.

    “so is this experience enough to get you to move back to the barrel?”

   your eyes snap up. he’s staring right at you. he doesn’t even look fazed by his question.

   and that makes you so, so angry. in seconds, you have gone from grateful to furious; only kaz can elicit that response from you.

   you step back, glaring. “so that’s what this is then? you came all the way here to drag me back to the barrel?”

     “well, no. i came here to get inej help, but she seems to be healing up pretty well with all the goods your people are giving her.” he shrugs, bottom lip protruding. “so i thought i’d try my hand at this.”

     “you are unbelievable.”

   kaz raises a brow. “are you getting mad at me?”

   “you are unbelievable!” you want to throw something at him. you want to break down and cry. you kind of want to go with him. “it’s like you haven’t listened to a word i’ve said. are you that self-centred, kaz?”

    “you know i am.”

    you close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. maybe you’re overreacting. maybe you really are better off in the barrel, where you were born and raised, where you learned everything you ever knew. but here, with kaz being the one to drag you back - it reminds you so harshly that you’re his. you are his, and that is all anyone will ever see you as, and that thought. . . you don’t know how to feel about that thought.

     “this isn’t the life for you, y/n,” he continues. “you know it isn’t. once the barrel has you, it doesn’t let you go. we’ve all learned that the hard way.”

   “is that what you are?” you spit. “the hard way?”

   he shrugs. “you should be grateful it’s me and not someone worse.”

   “there is no one worse, kaz.”

   his lips twitch, the only sign that your words have actually struck a nerve. “you mean that, do you?”

   “don’t act like you’re the good guy. you know you’re evil. you’re proud of it! that’s why i had to leave. that’s why i’m in here risking my life every single fucking day! i wanted to get away from you!”

   and oh, saints, this isn’t going how you wanted it to go. the words are spilling from your mouth before you can stop them, mind racing too quick for your mouth to catch up. his face continues falling with every word, but you don’t stop. 

    “saints, kaz, when are you ever going to grow the fuck up? you walk around pretending you have everything under control, that you own the place, but you’re nothing - nothing - without the rest of us. you would be dead twenty times over if it wasn’t for that little crew of yours, the people you have under your god damn thumb.” you step forward, teeth gritted. “kaz dirtyhands brekker can’t even take his own fucking gloves off.”

    “is that what you want?” he steps closer, so close your chests are almost touching. his face is red, a line of sweat glittering upon his upper lip that only ever shows itself when he’s furious, out of his mind with anger. “you want the gloves to come off? fine.”

   and then he plucks the gloves from his hands and throws them on the floor.

    his hands. the hands you have seen only twice in the years you have known him, the hands that have never touched your bare skin. suddenly they are in full view, free reign to do whatever you want with them, but all you can do is step back, one hand covering your mouth as you try and process what you’ve said, what kaz has done, how the situation could have taken such a harsh, grim turn.

    but kaz isn’t finished. kaz is never finished. 

    “is this what you want, y/n?” he demands. “you need me to bear myself completely for you to believe i’m in love with you? or is this not enough?”

   “kaz-”

    “what else is it going to take, huh? tell me.”

   “kaz, i’m-”

   “what about this?”

   he’s crazy. he’s crazy, and making mistakes, and you know this because he reaches forward and cups your face in his bare hands, flesh against flesh. shock ricochets through you, eyes widening as kaz lets out an anguished groan, his own eyes slipping closed. you feel his fingers trembling upon your skin.

   you wrench away from him, gasping.

    he immediately spins around, clutching his hands to his chest. he groans low in his throat, pressing his head against the wall. sweat trickles down the back of his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. you catch a single tear run down his cheek that he can’t wipe away because then his fingers will be touching his skin, and he hates that. it kills him. you know it does.

    you rush forward, placing a hand safely on his jacket-covered shoulder. his breathing is ragged and shaky.

   “kaz,” you pant. “oh god, kaz, i’m so sorry. i’m so, so sorry. why did you do that?” you whirl around frantically. “your gloves. where are your gloves?”

   he doesn’t reply. you’re talking to yourself at this point. you spot his gloves on the floor and grab them, immediately handing them back without so much as a brush of your fingertips against his. he’s hurried and distressed when he tugs them back on, clenching his fist over and over again, as if to ensure his hands are safely hidden beneath the leather.

   he doesn’t turn around. you stand behind him, one hand pressed to your chest, eyes swimming in tears you didn’t even feel rising to the surface.

   “kaz,” you whisper. “i’m. . . i didn’t mean. . .”

   “you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he mumbles, straightening up. “i’m not asking you to return to the barrel with me so you can serve me, or whatever you think this is. i’m asking you to return so i can have you there. so we can be together again.” he glances over his shoulder. “as it should be.”

   you stare at him, wanting to respond, wanting to tell him to go to hell, but you can’t lie. never before have you been able to look kaz in the eye and lie, and maybe that’s why you say nothing. he’s right in every sense - you and him are meant to be by each other’s side, no matter what. barrel born and raised, nobody understands you quite like he does.

   but admitting that, throwing away every barrier you have worked so hard to put up . . . you can’t do it.

    kaz waits a moment longer before laughing half-heartedly, sounding more exhausted than anything else. he lowers his head, black hair falling in his face before he swipes it out of the way, looks at you and says, “get out.”

     “kaz-”

   “stop saying my name.” he turns, tossing his tie onto the bed. “get. out. inej and i will be gone tomorrow.”

    you swallow thickly, pushing away the tears. and then you do as he said, because standing in his presence for much longer is going to send you into a spiral you don’t think you’ll be able to crawl out of again. you’ve been down that road before, and it took everything in you not to be consumed.

    ----

    “why do you look like you’ve been crying?” inej asks. she’s sat up now, a tray of soup perched on her lap. the colouring has come back to her skin, and she stands up whenever she wants to. whatever the palace medics did for her is working wonders, which you suppose is one thing you should be grateful for.

    you lean over and dip a slice of bread in her soup. 

   “are you checking if it’s been poisoned?” inej jokes, and when you don’t respond, she sighs. “you and kaz have a fight?”

    you wince, which is answer enough.

   “what about this time?”

   “he wants me to go back to the barrel with you.”

    inej pauses, eyes still cast to her soup. you look at her, stomach curling in sudden realisation.

   “wait,” you say. “did you know that was his plan this entire time?”

   “no,” she replies, though she looks sheepish. “i genuinely was sick. kaz just. . . came along for the ride when he heard you were here.” she looks up and groans. “you can’t act surprised, y/n. what were you expecting? for him to just walk out and leave you here?”

   “that would have been the right thing to do, yes.”

   “well,  you know kaz better than that. use your brain.” she waves a hand in your direction. “pass me another slice of bread and tell me about this argument.”

   you don’t want to. all day you have been thinking about the feel of his hands on your face, his flesh against your own, the anguished groan ripped from his throat. he put himself through that to prove - what? that he loves you? that’s what he said, but it was only a few days prior he was claiming what you and him had was nothing. it was forgotten, and you were happy about that for the briefest moment. if kaz moved on, you could too. 

    but then he took the gloves off, and it was just. . . messed up again. you were left confused and guilty and pining, and you hated yourself for it. it was as if all that hard work you had put in to forget about kaz had been thrown out the window - trust kaz to come in and ruin everything.

    “i can see what you’re thinking, you know,” says inej suddenly.

   “can you?”

     “take it from me,” she says. “kaz is never going to get over you. he’s never going to let you go. he’s never going to stop trying for you. he’s a stubborn bastard, and a stubborn bastard is even worse when they’re in love - which kaz is. disastrously, madly in love.”

    “he said we were nothing.”

    “he’s a stubborn and prideful bastard.”

    you close your eyes, heart thumping. “i don’t know what to do, inej.”

   “well, do you love him back?”

   your eyes fly open. “what kind of question is that?”

   she shrugs. “an obvious one, but i want to know the answer.”

    you know the answer. your brain screams it at you. you have felt the answer in your bones every day since you left the barrel, and yet speaking it aloud feels like a betrayal of yourself from yourself.

    so you look away, and as inej always claims, she can see exactly what you’re thinking.

    a soft chuckle slips past her lips. “the barrel never leaves a person, y/n. and apparently, neither does kaz brekker.”

    “what are you suggesting?”

   inej shrugs. “kaz and i are leaving for ketterdam in the morning. there’s definitely room for a third person.”

----

   you don’t sleep that night. neither does kaz.

   you can hear him pacing back and forth in his room, no doubt replaying the days events over and over in his mind in the same way you are. his hands against your skin, his eyes piercing your own, those words he spoke that left you tingling all over.

    even now, laying in bed, you can’t get over what he said. i love you. that was the jidst of it, and though you had heard that confession from him a few times in the past, it was different this time around. it was kaz trying to prove himself, which he never did before. if someone didn’t take kaz at face value, he wouldn’t bother. 

    and you have to admit, hearing him say those words was like a shot to the chest. they are the very words that have been on the tip of your tongue for months now, spoken only in dreams when you finally allow yourself to sleep. you can say them to no one else - just kaz. always, always just kaz.

   and maybe this realisation is the reason you find yourself getting dressed at six in the morning. maybe this realisation is the reason you pack all your things into the ruck sack you came to the palace with. maybe this realisation is the reason you tip-toe to the courtyard, avoiding the eyes of the staff who all look at you like you’re some kind of prisoner escaping your cell.

    it’s still dark. the grass is wet beneath your thin shoes, the jacket you have pulled on doing little to protect you from the icy winds coming from the ocean just feet away from the palace’s front door. hovering on the banks is a boat, a boat you recognise as The Mast, one of the many boats kaz has won from different people around ketterdam.

   you nearly cry at the sight of it.

   you don’t waste time waiting on kaz and inej - you don’t want to have this discussion with either of them until you’re safely on the water, until you can’t change your mind. 

   you clamber onto the boat, giving a sheepish smile to the stunned crew member - Daryl, you think he’s called - as he stares at you approaching. he offers you a hand when you finally reach the deck, his eyes never leaving your own.

    “morning,” you say. “i’m y/n.”

   “i know,” daryl replies, before tipping his hat. “it’s wonderful to have you back on board.”

    you smile awkwardly, unsure how to respond; how much do the crew actually know about what happened between you and the crows? how many people bore witness to that god awful aftermath?

   you decide not to wait around to hear the answer. instead, you tell daryl you’re going down to the cabins, and he doesn’t argue. you disappear beneath the deck, finding the first room with a bed and immediately claiming it as your own; despite the lack of sleep, you are not tired in the slightest. you can’t get kaz out of your head, how he is going to react when the boat eventually docks and he sees you strolling off of it, greeted by that rancid ketterdam air. back in the barrel.

    you lay down on the bed and stare at the ceiling. you will fall asleep eventually. you’ll trick yourself into it.

    and then the door opens.

    your eyes snap open with it; you must have fallen asleep eventually. groggily, you lift your head and look at the intruder - and your heart immediately falls.

   “kaz.”

    he looks crazed, hair stuck up, eyes wild. behind him stands inej, grinning from ear to ear, though the minute kaz steps into the room, she disappears into the shadows, leaving you and dirtyhands alone.

    his eyes never leave yours as he approaches. he marches to your bedside, grabs your hand and pulls you up.

   “kaz-”

    he shoves you against the wall, gun pressed to your temple. you inhale sharply, though you can’t claim to be surprised or scared. you stare into his eyes, watching his own trace your features, looking for any sign that you are here in bad company.

    “kaz,” you whisper, because it’s always his name that fights past your lips. “it’s me. i’m going home.”

    his grip slackens. the gun crashes to the floor, and before you can say anything, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him. you are careful to rest your head upon his shoulder, not touching his flesh, but feeling him nonetheless. tears spring to your eyes, dribbling down the bridge of your nose and soaking the shoulder of his fancy suede jacket - one he stole from the kings wardrobe, you notice.

    but you don’t pull away, afraid to go without his touch for another second.

    “is this what you want?” he asks, voice muffled by your hair. “is this really what you’ve decided?”

    “yes.” you pull away, hands sliding down his arms. “you’re right, kaz. the barrel is . . . it’s a shit hole, but it’s where i belong. it’s all i know. and you and me. . . we have to do this thing together.”

    he narrows his eyes. “what thing?”

   “everything.”

   the corners of his mouth twitch. you can imagine kissing those lips, drawing him close and embracing in that way lovers often do. however, you’re content, happy even, with the way things are. you hold his gloved hands, and he says he loves you. you confide in him, and he confides in you, and sometimes you fight like children, but in the end, he will have your back no matter what.

    “everything,” he repeats. “yeah.” he slips his gloved hands into the sleeve of your jacket, tracing his fingers along your crow tattoo, the one he matched, the one everyone matched when they decided to let the barrel take them over. you shiver, biting your lower lip. “you still have it.”

    “i could hardly get rid of it,” you reply. kaz looks up, and you sigh. “i would never get rid of it, kaz. no matter what.”

     he nods, rolling your sleeve back down. he pulls it over your wrist, covering your fingers before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the soft, rain soaked fabric. 

    he looks up at you again. “yes. no matter what.” 

[teddy06writes]

Free (The Much Needed Part Two of Locked Away)

okay so this was requested by @5ugarcan3 who asked: “ PLEEEASE if its not 2 much trouble i’d love to see pt 2 to the sam x reader prison fic where its fluffy n stuff :( u broke my heart with the ending “

As well as @unalive-mee who left this reply on the first part: “ damnnn that was so good, would love to see a part two where they respawn and that was one of their canon lives because this broke me”

So I have been forced to see that I cannot just leave it there unfortunately so check out Part One if you haven’t already, just so you know what's been going on {low key I’m doing this begrudgingly, can you tell?}

{I mean can you blame me? I was so proud of the way I broke people}

{Alright enough stalling, here we go...}

Awesamdude x fem!reader

trigger warnings: a few swears, mentions of previous character death, slight panic attack

premise: Though you’d long since respawned after the incident at the prison, and you were sure Dream was out of your head, Sapnap, BBH and a few others still thought it was a good idea to keep you mostly isolated, until one day...

{Also the Bloodvines aren’t a thing here}

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

You sighed, blinking sleep out of your eyes as sunlight filtered through the half closed window. 

Slowly you sat up, looking around the tiny bedroom you’d been given, tucked up into the corner of Bad and Skeppy’s mansion. You’d been given relative run of this corridor, but you were still stuck inside. 

At least, you reminded yourself, it’s not prison. 

You went to the window, looking out over the wood, absently tracing one of the many scars that had appeared after you’d respawned, they had always told you that it was from what Dream had made you do, and all the people you’d fought. 

The day had barley begun, and you had only just finished getting dressed properly when a loud explosion echoed over the hills. 

“What the hell was that?” You demanded, already starting toward the stairs at a run. 

On the main floor you could hear Bad yell, “Stay with (y/n)! Keep her in here!” 

Moments later you crashed into Skeppy on the stairs, both of you quickly springing back up in a panic you yelling, “What’s happening?!” 

“Go back upstairs- it’s being sorted!” He said quickly, trying to shove you back up the stairs. 

“At lease tell me what's going on!” You cried desperately. 

The diamond man sighed, “Its Dream-”  

“He’s back?” You immediately went to shove by him. 

“Stop!” Skeppy yelled, latching onto your arm and starting to pull you back to the stairs, “You can’t help them! We don’t know if he’s still in your head or not! If your in the middle of helping them take him down and he takes over again-”

You hung your head in defeat, “There's no telling what would happen.” 

He nodded, and together you slowly climbed the stairs, reaching your room in a matter of minutes, “I’m going to have to lock you in here.” 

“Probably for the best.” You murmured, shuffling inside and sitting down on the bed, watching as Skeppy closed the door, the lock clicking into place, followed by the telltale sound of him blocking the door up. 

~~

Sam watched as Dream staggered to his feet, facing the entirety of he army that had amassed, his expression seeming unfazed, “That all you got?” 

“Not even close bitch.” Tommy said, staring back as he drew his sword. 

Dream sighed, looking around before hefting his axe, using his other hand to bite off another piece of golden apple, downing a strength potion as well, “When will you ever learn?” 

In a flash he was lunging at the boy, who barley had time to throw up his shield to block the attack, shoving Dream back, following him into the middle of the field, “I think I’ve had my share of lessons.” 

From the side, several people drew there bows, knocking arrows and letting them rain around Dream, who began to struggle to dodge them.

Tubbo motioned for a momentary cease in fire and Tommy lunged forward, the tip of hiss bald connecting with Dreams arm. In retaliation the man nearly screamed, practically tripping over himself to slash at Tommy, who barley dodged enough, a shallow cut now lining his leg. 

Technoblade handed Sam a splash potion, murmuring, “healing.” in the moments before Sam lobbed the bottle Tommy’s direction. 

“’is ones harmin.” 

Sam took it from the piglin, using the gap between Tommy and Dream, the archers now firing around Dream again, to throw the potion, grinning as it splashed just at Dream’s feet. 

The man nearly fell to the ground, quickly twisting out of the way of another arrow, concentration clear on his face, though yet again it was clear his focus was on nothing near the battle. 

Tommy grinned, taking the time to push forward, shoving Dream the rest of the way to the ground, preparing to run him through, “Any last words Green bitch?” 

“Go to hell,” Dream spat, reaching up to grab Tommy’s hands, shoving the sword down, into his chest, “I’ll see you there.” 

Tommy looked up, a slight gasp escaping as he turned to the army, grin spreading, “We did it! Tubbo we did it!” 

There were cheers all around, people hugging and laughing and crying. 

Techno and Sam stood to the side, the former looking at the latter warily, “If you try to hug me I will literally kill you, no hesitation.” 

Sam nearly laughed, “No- there's someone else I’d rather be hugging.” 

As if on cue, Bad came running toward them, “Sam! Sam we need to talk!” 

“About what?” 

A smile crept onto the demons face, “(y/n)- she’s- well I figured it was best to tell you now, and not before cause you know, we didn’t know if he- but never mind that! (Y/n)s alive, come on!” 

The Next thing Sam knew he was being dragged off to Bad’s house, yelling, “But you said that was her last life!” 

20 minutes later they made it up to your room as Skeppy finished removing the last of the obsidian, Bad reassuring, “It was a temporary percuasion, just because of what was going on today.” 

Slowly, Sam opened the door, looking around to find you, looking battered and bruised from your attempts at throwing yourself at the door to escape, curled in the corner, hands tightly gripping your hair, eyes squeezed shut. 

The (y/n) he could last remember, cold and cruel, unforgiving and harsh now seemed broken. 

He slowly knelt in front of you, “(y/n)?” 

Your head jerked up at Sam’s voice, and he could see the wide smile on your face as you rushed forward, grabbing his hands, “Sam! I’m- I’m free!” 

His arms were quick to wrap around you, a smile now on his face upon seeing that you were no longer the monster he could remember, just the person you once were, repeating, “Free.” 

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars • 06

Pairings: Sirius Black x [F]Reader, Remus Lupin x [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors, music snob!Remus,  Author’s notes: song used: Come Together by The Beatles

BTW: I always try to use little to no physical descriptions for the reader insert but I did add that the reader has some sort of hair. I didn't mention hair texture or length (Sorry if ur bald). My taller readers, I only mentioned that you were shorter than Remus (no height was given)

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 6: ABBA vs. The Beatles 

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

“Merlin’s beard! Binns is a sadist; torturing students must be his only pastime,” James yawned, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes.

Nothing could ever compare to the History of Magic. Today, lessons were dreadful and muddy. Professor Binns’ monotone voice filtered throughout the class, rambling on and on about various dates in history. Hardly anyone paid attention before he started calling on students. Annoyed, Binns would continue to reiterate his inquiry until the student(s) got the correct answer, no matter how long it took.

A sadist indeed.

Although Binns wasn’t the sole reason why the class was pathetic, but rather the lack of any practical work was simply a joke. The class only reminded Y/N of her short time in public school. Geometry? Utterly useless for any daily life interactions. To make matters worse, Binns surprised the class with a pop-quiz and two chapters of reading. Luckily, he had an ounce of mercy in his ghostly body and dismissed the class early for lunch.

James continued, “I would rather fight a dragon than — Woah! Your hair! “

She glanced to look at herself through the reflection in James’ glasses. Her hair, which originally was emerald green, was now turning into a golden yellow. The different colours clashed together boldly.

“You look like the banner for the Holyhead Harpies,” Peter said, striding up to James’ side.

“The Holyhead Harpies,” James said dreamily, “They’re probably one of my favourite teams.

Remus, who had been trailing behind Peter jumps in, “You only like them because they’re all women, you wanker.” He turns to Peter, his hand shooting up to the side of his head, massaging small circles into his temples, “Why’d you get him going?”

James became insufferable whenever someone or something mentioned Quidditch. Not only would he boast about his abilities as a Chaser, but he seemingly was a never-ending encyclopedia about Quidditch. It only worsened as November neared, the start of the new Quidditch season was approaching.

One time Y/N found herself stuck listening to him babble about Ireland winning the world cup for about thirty minutes. She didn’t have the heart to stop him, though. Nobody listened to his rants and he could hardly contain his excitement. How could she tell him she wasn’t interested?    

A monstrous smirk etched its way onto his face, “Caught me.”

“Be anymore of a predator would ya, Prongs?”

“Hey! That’s not the only reason why I like them. Did you forget their victory in 1953 against the Heidelberg Harriers? Their strategy was blood-fucking-brilliant. They’re legendary! My father was there to see it in person. Lucky bastard. He told me…”

His voice fades into the background as Y/N catches Remus’ eyes. A glint of mischief shined through them before he forced a fake pitiful smile. He mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ to her before looping his arm around Peter’s shoulder, discreetly leaving James’ side and out of the classroom.

That sly, slippery bastard.  

"— and did I mention that their seeker was one of the most sought out —”

“Wait, James.”

He abruptly pauses, waiting patiently for her to continue. She leads them out into the corridor and towards the great hall. “Sorry, didn’t mean to cut you off like that, but when is my hair going back to normal?”

Y/N instantly regretted mentioning her hair. There was no trace of a smile on James. His shoulders slumped a bit and his walking even staggered. “Godric, I know, I know and I’m sorry. I thought it would have returned back to normal by now. I’ve been creating reversal spells — even started asking Moony to help.”

“Moony?”

“Remus.”

“Another one of your nicknames?”

“It’s not a nickname! It’s a brotherhood — a pack!”

“Oh, sorry Prongs,” she drawled, a sarcastic smile on her face, “If I didn’t know you I would assume you were an asshole.”

“What? How?!”

“You go around calling yourself a marauder, the king of Quidditch and now Prongs. Seems pretty assholely.”

James’ mouth opens before closing again, repeating the process several times.

“Plus, you pull silly pranks every day.”

He chuckles, “Oi! You helped us with that itching idea!”

Her eyebrows raised in acknowledgement, “Touché.”

To this, James shakes his head, directing the conversation back to the Holyhead Harpies. Inwardly, Y/N wanted to whack him with a broomstick.

They were among the first students to reach the Great Hall, aside from students who had a free or were excused early by Professor Binns. None of the girls were there yet. Unfortunately, Marlene was held back by Binns, so Y/N was left to sit beside James who sat opposite to Remus, Peter and Sirius.

She had been trying her best to avoid Sirius whenever she could. It was clear he didn’t like her. He never laughed whenever she made a joke, he hardly noticed her, he never praised her, even if she tried to compliment him. He was just rude for no apparent reason. The rest of the marauders and girls knew this, although they preferred not to comment about the obvious, strained relationship (which they didn’t even know the reason for. Granted, Y/N wasn't quite sure herself. Was it the rejection, he just didn't like her or is just an ass?).

Although, ignoring and avoiding him proved to be extremely challenging. Y/N was glued to Lily’s hip ever since the Sorting Ceremony. It also didn’t help that if you were with one marauder, another one was sure to follow. She and James started to spend more time with each other, and by extension, she was obligated to be around at least one other marauder. With the addition of study sessions with Remus, it was inevitable.

Surprisingly, Sirius hadn’t made any snarky remarks, excluding dirty looks, he was being… nice — nicer to her. The action was a stark contrast from his previous behaviour and she speculated a few reasons why:

Most likely, James or Lily, she assumed the former, said something to him. Since his little spat with James at breakfast a few weeks ago, Sirius was tight-lipped ever since.

Maybe he was done being a prick, deciding to stop by himself after realizing he was a prick.

Went through something personal, it stopped, and his behaviour improved.

Minutes after the bell rang, students began to trickle in for lunch. The comfortable chatter rose as Y/N finished eating an apple. Everyone seemed pleased when James’ Quidditch lecture was interrupted as hundreds of owls streamed in, packages and letters dropping into the laps of students. She hadn’t expected anything considering her owl, Celeste, didn’t drop anything off since the first week of October. However, today she fluttered down between the bread and fruit bowls, dropping off several letters and a small parcel onto Y/N’s plate, pecking at the bread crumbs on the table. She tore the letter open, inside it said:

Dear Y/N,  

Are you still having a hard time with Charms? If so, perhaps I find some textbooks and send them over.  

Don’t slack off this year. Send me a letter whenever you have the chance. (Make sure to tell Celeste to be quieter next time. You know I can, and never will get used to the owls.)  

Mom  

Her mother finally wrote to her. A sense of joy flooded her body as she placed the letter back down on the oak table. A part of her wondered if Celeste was dropping off her letters to the wrong house, the one back in Toronto as her mother never wrote back. She opened the next letter, immediately recognizing the messy scrawl:

October 19, 1975  

Y/N! I thought you replaced me with one of your brits, but a false alarm, your letters just take a while to arrive. Must be tiring for Celeste to travel to and from Scotland then America and back. You know, whenever people see her fly in, they still recognize her.  

Are you doing anything for Halloween? We’re throwing another dance. Going to be alone this year now that I can’t force you to come. I guess I’ll just watch half the school dry hump each other while I smuggle in firewhiskey.

How’s it going over there? I heard from a few students, even read in the papers about the war. It’s getting pretty crazy over here. Teachers have been meeting and trying to prevent students and parents from losing their shit. My mom has been worried too, writing to me like a lunatic and I’m not even in the UK. The MACUSA have been keeping quiet but they were caught having meetings with counsellors from the Ministry of Magic. Even heard that Jenkins is stepping down. If it keeps getting out of hand here, I can’t imagine what it must be like at Hogwarts. I truly thought the war was dying down, I was wrong. Keep your wand close. Surely, you’ll get away with a hex or two.

Until next time

Matthew G.  

So engrossed in her new environment, her old life slipped to the back of her mind. There was a detachment from her reality compared to the one at home. A pang of guilt hit her, swallowing her up from the inside out until another pang hit, loneliness. If she easily forgot everyone, would anyone remember her? None of her old friends, apart from Matthew, had made a move to contact her since she left.

Often thinking about writing them first, she had to remind herself if they wanted to, they would. Especially with the knowledge that people still recognized Celeste.

Was she forgettable and if so, was it karma for forgetting too?

It put a mechanical vice grip on her heart, applying just enough pressure to be a constant reminder. With every beat, it tightened more and more.

Looking around the table, she saw her peers huddle in groups, familiar laughter ringing throughout. So noisy, so taunting. She may have been friends with Lily, Dorcas, James or even Marlene, but they had their own friends. Friendships that had years to develop before she came. She had only known them for less than two months.

Forgettable.

How hilarious, she thought.

“Hey,” a gentle voice cooed into her ear, “Are you okay?”

She hummed back absentmindedly.

James wore a concerned expression, his eyes knitted together, one raised higher than the other like it always does when he was worried. The look he shot her suggested he wasn’t convinced, although he didn’t press; instead opting to stir the conversation. “So, who wrote to you?”

“A friend and my mom —”

A snort so loud that it caused the rest of the marauders, random onlookers and even Lily (who had a look of pure disgust on her face) turned towards them. “What did you say?”

“I got a few letters?”

“No!” He bellowed, “Who sent you them?”

“My friend and my mom —”

Nearly choking on his sandwich, James clutched his stomach laughing. Laughing so hard he has to grip the table to prevent falling off the hall bench. "Haha! Mom?! MOM?” He mocked in a poor American accent, “What the fuck is mom? It’s MUM. Bollocks!”

“We say vitamin.”

“It’s VIT-A-MIN! Who says VIGHT-A-MIN?” Without a pause, James presses his entire body onto her shoulder, smushing her before grabbing the letter her mother sent her. His eyes scanned across the pages before hitting a certain word. “Back home? Maple trees? Where did you use to live exactly?”

“Canada.”

“Canada?! You don’t mean those snowy gits?” At this, Peter and Remus snort under their breaths. Even Lily had to force down a smile.

Staring deadpanned at him, in an unamused voice, “Really?”

“You are a bundle of surprises! I thought you lived… I’m not sure. I assumed somewhere like New Hork.”

“York,” Lily corrects.

“Tomato, tomato,” he jokes, playfully batting his eyes at Lily before biting into his sandwich, “You do live in London, right?”

“Right.”

James takes a moment, letting the conversation die down before he quickly glances at Y/N again. An undecipherable expression crosses his face before it’s promptly replaced with elation, “I take back anything negative I’ve said about Canada. They have an amazing Quidditch rooster. Have you gone to any of their games?”

A low grumble of sighs follows at the mention of Quidditch from James. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus shake his head and sighed dejectedly.

“Nah, I’m a New-Maj, remember? My mom — “

“Mum —”

“ — sorry, Mum — hardly understands the wizarding world, let alone what Quidditch is.”

His eyes were wide, whimsical, as a hand flew to his chest dramatically, “Rubbish! Bloody ridiculous! You’ve never seen a real Quidditch game? One day, I swear I’ll bring you to one! Or you can bring me to Canada one day and we can watch a home game!”

As James continued to rant, Y/N’s mind slowly drifted back to the bitterness in her chest. Trying to distract herself, she borrowed Lily’s quill and a few sheets of parchment, scribbling down letters in response.

Mom,  

I’m fine with Charms, you don’t need to send anything. And don’t worry, I’ve been studying for my OWLs.  

Love you, write soon.

The next letter was addressed to Matthew:

Matty Matt,

Of course, I didn’t replace you… yet. 

Another dance? You would think the students’ protest last year would have influenced the professors this time. I guess it’s time for you to get wasted. I didn’t tell you last time but I think I’m going to a party. A friend of mine is throwing it and I know he’s going to force me to come no matter what. He briefly mentioned costumes and drinks. Plus, there’s going to be some kind of prank that I may or may have not been a part of? Sounds cool right?  

Yeah, I’d say it’s been bad up here. I don’t know much about what's going on outside of school, though. The professors are hiding it well. I didn’t even hear about Jenkins stepping down. Keep me updated.  

Until next time  

She sealed the letters before sending Celeste off again, “Be quieter when you drop off the letters, yeah?”

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

It must be her lucky day.

The ringing of the bell went off, signalling the end of class. Professor Flitwick asked the students to stay behind so he could hand out quizzes the students completed on Monday in preparation for their upcoming test on Growth and Reductor charms the following Tuesday.

It was never a good sign when a professor flips your test over to prevent other students from seeing their mark. Flipping it over at a downwards angle, Flitwick handed Y/N her quiz.

Turning it over nervously, a tight coil formed in the pit of her stomach. A large P was plastered on the top right corner in bold red ink. She studied hard for this too. Angrily, she shoved her work into her bag and left the class. This was the third poor she'd gotten in a row. She should have told her mother she needed those Charm books.

“I swear I’m going mad! Her brother is a complete cow! He even — are you listening?”

She looks at the girl beside her, Marlene. Her glossed over, doe eyes must have served as an answer before the blonde shook her head.

“Sorry, distracted,” she mumbles, before forcing out a fake-happy tone, “Continue your story! I wanna hear!”

“Hey,” Marlene says in a softer voice, “If something’s bothering you, you can talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay,” she replies instinctively. She felt bad spacing out during Marlene’s story but her mind was running through and under hoops. The last thing any fifth year student needed was to fall behind in their classes, let alone feeling like nobody cared about them.

At that moment, she wished she was wrapped away in red and gold blankets to wallow in her self-pity party, away from prying eyes. She could feel the burning sensations of tears building up.

Dammit.

Y/N looked out the window to her left. The sky was melting with the warm hues of reds and yellows while the other half was being slowly engulfed into a cloak of twilight. Even from here, she could feel the cool air seeping in from the windows making her tug on the sleeves of her robes.

She continued, “I’m just tired — been a long day. I’m going to take a nap before dinner. See you.”

Judging by the look on Marlene and Lily’s face, guilt riddles her body. They both look sympathetic. The pity only made Y/N feel disgusting. In all honesty, Y/N will care later. Right now wasn’t the time and she desperately needed some shut-eye.

Before she left the room, she overheard them talking.

“What’s up with her?”

“Dunno.”

Great.

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

Sleep did little to ease her thoughts.

The same uneasiness she felt on the train ride to Hogwarts settled deep into her bones again. She thought she was past this. The worrying about friends, missing home, feeling alone, failing class, stressing about her future. The rational part of her brain knew it was just one silly quiz (and old shitty friends), but knowing herself, if she were to continue to have this mindset, she would only fail in the end.

Dinner ended and Y/N belligerently climbed up the stairs towards the library to attend today’s study session. The Charms quiz threw her into a loop and it was better not to dwell on it, opting to rather use her time for something useful.

Her marks improved significantly since she attended her first session two weeks ago. The last couple of assignments and quizzes she handed in that she worked on during the groups were some of her best work, ever. Additionally, her ability to retain information was improving at astonishing rates and she found herself participating in lessons more often. Unfortunately, she started to doubt her abilities again.

There weren’t as many students as usual. Perhaps it was because of the Quidditch meeting for all teams tonight, or because nobody wanted to spend their time in a library Friday night. She assumed it was the latter.

Although, the same student with black hair from Slytherin was there; tucked away in his usual corner. He was always there. Whether it was the study sessions, another OWL or NEWT student or he simply just enjoyed the library, Y/N could always rely on him sitting there in his little nook.

In the far back, surrounded by tall bookshelves sat Remus. Another student, a first or second year, judging by their height, seemed to be asking him a question, rapidly writing down something on a piece of parchment whilst they walked away. Remus leaned back in the brown chair, his right leg was folded over the other as he stretched.

She spent over twelve hours minimum with Remus directly since the first session, minus the time he was around James and the girls. Perhaps she only started to notice afterwards but she swore Remus wasn’t around this much before. Now, he was everywhere.

In the past couple of weeks she’d gotten to know him, she made a mental list in her head of him:

1. Remus loves sweaters. They weren’t flashy, seemingly preferring to wear ones with small designs, stripes or a solid colour. He wore green the most. He also wore cardigans. Two, in particular, he wore the most; one was white and the other was a muted brown. They were big and hung off his loose frame, the pockets were often stuffed with books, rumpled parchment and his wand.

2. He’s a coffee addict. He drank it in the morning, the afternoon, at the study session and sometimes with meals at dinner. He loved to dump pounds of sugar, so if he only drank black coffee, it usually meant he was in a bad mood. James even joked that he became Sirius whenever he drank black coffee, because haha! Get it? It’s BLACK coffee!

3. He frequented the library whenever he wasn’t with the rest of the marauders. He enjoyed poetry, wrote post-it notes after post-it notes to annotate his favourite parts. He even slept there from time to time, not without having to persuade Pince to not give him detention.

As if Remus magically sensed her, he took a large inhale before he stopped stretching, opening his eyes to look at her. A small smile was plastered on each other’s faces. He stuck up a few fingers to wave at her, motioning her to come over.

“Hi Y/N. I thought you didn’t come on Fridays?”

“I don’t but I have a test, Charms, Tuesday.”

“Oh, well I’m happy to help.”

“Thanks for the offer, Professor Lupin, but just being down here will help me focus.”

A scarlet blush settled on his face at the mention of his tutoring. “Well come sit with me then.”

Pushing the chair out of the way, she sat down beside him, pulling out her cassette player and earbuds along with her notes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus staring at the player curiously.

“Do you want to listen?”

“If you don't mind. I didn’t know you could use these here.” Picking it up, he turned the rectangular device.

“If record players work here, why not this?”

She hands him an earbud, alongside a small collection of other tapes she had on hand.

“Choose whatever you want to listen to.”

Without much thought, he pressed the play button. The upbeat tune of Waterloo by ABBA trickled into their ears. Y/N bobbed her head up and down before the song was suddenly stopped.

A sour grimace sat on Remus’ face before their eyes met, his nose upturned slightly.

“Why’d you stop it?”

“I hate ABBA.”

“What!?”

“I just don’t like their cheesy disco-pop-esk sound. They sound generic and random words are thrown in when they don’t add to the song.”

“Jeez— never met anyone who hated them that much.”

A ghost of a smile appeared before he flicked through her collection of tapes. He picked up Abbey Road by The Beatles. Opening the player up, he slid out Waterloo. With a click and the press of a button, Come Together played.

“So you hate ABBA but not The Beatles? Benny and Bjorn said they were influenced by them!”

“Keyword: Influenced; which is just another word for a shitty knock-off version.”  

4. Remus Lupin is apparently a music snob.

“Well, I think both are good.”

“Respectfully, I disagree with you.”

“Whatever you say, professor.”  

"I've been thinking a bit, why did you come to Hogwarts? Why not just stay at your old school?"

The sudden switch of topics threw her into a loop. “Wasn’t by choice. My mom’s a doctor and got a position here. It was too good to turn down. But it’s not bad. There’s less wizarding laws.”

He nods his head, "I'm assuming you have dual citizenship?"

"Mhm."

About a half an hour passed as she sighed for the umpteenth time before putting down her quill. Her chair scraped back noisily as Y/N’s hand balled up into a tight fist, feeling her fingernails bite into her palm. She’d been flicking through her notes, the words all blended.

At this rate, if History of Magic didn’t exist, Charms would surely be her least favourite class.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

She was at a loss, this was the third time Remus had offered to help and he was persistent. She felt horrible that she was taking up his time to help her on a stupid Charms test.

He continued, “If you think bothering me is an issue, it’s not. I run the sessions on Friday. It’s my job.”

“Fine, but there has to be something I can do in return.”

“Hmm,” Remus pondered for a second, “How about this, I tutor you in Charms and in return you give me your Potions notes? I'm dreadful at it.”

“Deal.”

“Great. Before we start, is there anything in particular that you have questions on?”

Silently tapping on the quiz she received today, Remus snatched it and quickly scanned over her answers and Professor Flitwick’s notes.

“I see what happened. You know, the curriculum taught at Ilvermorny is different. That’s probably why you can’t understand some of this shit.” He cleared his throat, “So as we know, the growth charm increases the size of your intended target…”

His voice, like a light switch, changed instantly. Instead of his softer deep, raspier voice, it became commanding and steady. He never stumbled over his words and articulated his points elegantly. She found herself enraptured by him, understanding why he was in charge of the study groups.

Eventually, Remus takes a pause, “Does that make sense?”

“Yes. You know, you’re really good at this. No matter how much I asked Flitwick or even Lily I could never get it.”

A large blush bloomed on the apples of his cheeks before he shyly rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “I’m not that good.”

“No time for modesty, Professor Lupin!”

“Okay, okay! So here, do you see what went wrong? There would be a reaction with those two spells if —”

A boy, small, most likely a second year, stood at the foot of the shared table holding a large red and gold book. His hair, dark ginger, similar to Lily’s, was cut short. He fiddled with his fingers as he continued to stare at the two.

“... Um, hi. You're Remus — right?”

“Yup. Did you need help with something?”

“Yes! I’m having trouble with the Transfiguration spell, beetle into button.”

A look of understanding passed through his face before Remus turns to look at her, “Duty calls. It’ll be quick.”

“Of course, take your time.”

It was not quick. Understandably, very few were successful at the ginger’s age to perform the spell, but thirty minutes passed and the second year still didn’t understand the basic concepts. No matter how many times Remus had reiterated his point differently, the boy couldn’t retain it.

“I just don’t get it.”

“You learned this last year, it's a quick revision. I’m not sure what part you’re talking about. Look, do not wiggle or twirl your wand left, direct it towards the right. You have to picture the spell in your head before saying the incantation.”

He guided the boy's hand steadily before performing the spell himself.

“I don’t understand!” The boy whined.

He sighed, “Then we keep trying —”

“It’s too hard. Why are they teaching this crap anyway?”

“Could you stop complaining?” He snapped, closing his eyes before he realized what he’d just done. “I’m sorry about that. I’m… just tired. I can’t help you anymore, though. You should ask someone else,” Remus said brusquely, his eyes unnerving as he stared at the child. As a result, he yelped out a ‘thank you,’ rushing off in the opposite direction.

The muscles in his jaw tensed under the soft glow of the table lamps. There was a pale red tint rimming his eyes and he looked visibly paler than normal. Irritated, he bounced his knee rapidly, up and down, before looking out the large window beside them. The sky was mostly cloudy. Only the peak of the silvery moon appeared. A sliver was missing before it was fully complete.

He closed his eyes, before breathing in. His posture once stiffened, completely relaxed before a flimsy smile reappeared on his face, returning his attention to Y/N.

“Let’s continue, shall we?”

“If you’re tired we can stop.”

“No, s’okay. I’m fine — really.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, adding to her list:

5. Remus was always so hard to read.

[writingwithacupoftea]

The Unexpected Visitor in Small Heath

Summary: Y/N Shelby was a nurse during the war. What happens when a ghost from that past comes looking for her? A ghost with definite intentions...

Word Count: 3683

Trigger Warnings: a slightly handsy dude

A/N: *peeks out from my hiding place* hi guys, I’m back!! Hope you’re all good - to me it feels so amazing to be posting some writing again! As you can probably tell by the word count, I got a bit carried away with this one and so it’s basically unedited, so apologies for any mistakes 😂 Hope you enjoy it! 😘

"About fucking time, Y/N, I've been waiting here for almost a quarter of an hour."

"You've knocked on my door five minutes ago, Tommy, stop being such a dramatic shit!"

To any passers-by outside of Y/N Shelby's house, for a moment it would have looked like the two siblings were about to get into another argument. But any anxieties about that were washed away when they observed the teasing glint in the younger girl's eye and the playful shove given by the man, as they made their way down the cobbled streets of Birmingham.

Tommy and Y/N Shelby were as thick as thieves, there was no doubt about that. The brother and sister loved each other fiercely, and where one of them was found, it was almost certain that the other wouldn't be too far behind. But when they rowed, oh boy, did they row.

It was only a few days ago that the occupants of the Garrison were subjected to their shouting, after Tommy had scared off yet another one of Y/N's dates. As usual, however, the argument had soon blown over.

***

Y/N loved living in Small Heath. It was a shithole, but it was her shithole, so she didn't mind it as much.  

To Tommy's surprise, she had turned down the offer of either living with him in Warwickshire or buying her a place of her own in the country. Instead, she had asked her brother if she could move into his old house on Watery Lane, to which he had agreed.  

His swaying factor had been that someone would always be close-by if anything happened at the office, and the rest of the family had a place to crash if they needed to.  

Y/N, on the other hand, had more emotional reasons for wanting to stay where she grew up. Since training as a nurse for the war, the Shelby girl had got to know the children of Small Heath very well: she had somehow become the go-to person whenever one of them got into a scuffle or had an accident, and always fixed them up with a smile on her face as she listened to their innocent voices babble away. Y/N wanted to see them grow up, and didn't want to abandon them. She also didn't want to leave behind some of the poorer families in Small Heath, who she paid a visit to once a week to check that everyone was as well as could be.

Tommy had had one condition for Y/N's staying in Small Heath by herself – that he walked her to and from work or the Garrison (wherever they were the latest) every day, and the days that he couldn't make it that she would let him get one of the blinders to do the job instead. The Shelby name and his sister's capabilities alone were not enough to settle his worries about her wellbeing.

And this job was what had brought Tommy to Y/N’s house that morning. It had come to Y/N’s attention that her brother seemed to be at his happiest during these walks - and when she said ‘happiest’ she meant that there was often just a slight glimmer of a smile on his face and his eyes looked a touch softer. Sometimes the indicators were bigger, but more often than not this was where the happiness would stop. It was in these moments that Tommy seemed to be at his most human, and they were the favourite part of Y/N’s day.

Apart from today.

The pair navigated the streets with ease, speaking quietly to each other, just as on every other day of the year. Suddenly, however, Y/N stopped still, lips parted slightly in shock. Tommy examined her expression carefully, and after realising (with a sigh of relief) that his sister wasn't scared shitless, followed her line of sight. It landed on a man. A rather scruffy man, who appeared to have done an awful job at trying to make himself look respectable, Tommy thought. The Shelby man knew that this was a stranger to Small Heath, not only by the fact that he had never seen such a distinct person before, but also by the way that he looked at the buildings and the people in the street. Yes, Tommy concluded, that was definitely a look with purpose.

Breaking Tommy away from his thoughts was the delicate hand that grabbed his wrist tightly, causing him to look down at his sister. "Tommy, how do you fancy taking the scenic route to the office today, hmm?" Whilst her voice was light, as if she were simply commenting on the day's weather, the forced smile that was plastered on her face was the one that she used at parties when she wanted to get away from someone (usually when she was being annoyed or bored to death).

Amused by Y/N's desperate desire to get away, he resisted her impatient pull on his arm towards a side street. "What's wrong with this way, Y/N/N? This is the route we take every day, I'm not going about changing it now." Tommy's voice was teasing as he casually lit a cigarette.

"Yes, yes, Tom, I know you're a stickler for routine – but for once in your fucking life can you do as I say?"

"Ah, well I was considering it, but since you've been so rude to me..."

The man was getting closer.

"Please, Tommy, I'll do anything." Y/N hated that she was having to practically beg her brother, but the situation was one that she definitely wanted to avoid. She even slipped her hand down to grasp his tightly for emotional effect, something that she hadn't done for years (but, oh, how she relished that warm and safe feeling that it brought with it).

Surprised at his sister's actions and looking into her wide eyes, he was about to relent and let her drag him down the side streets to the office. But it was too late.

"NURSE SHELBY!" The man's deep voice bellowed down the street, causing a few people to look towards them.

"Fucking hell," Y/N mumbled under her breath, giving Tommy's hand a tight squeeze and then letting go, before addressing the man. "Henry. What a surprise! What brings you to Birmingham?"

"Well, you, of course!"

Y/N cringed internally as she saw Tommy's eyebrows shoot up at this statement. Tommy cleared his throat. "Aren't you going to introduce us, Y/N?"

Sending a quick death glare up to her brother out of the corner of her eye, the woman replied with strained politeness: "My apologies. Henry, this is my brother, Thomas Shelby. Tommy, this is Henry Mathers, one of my former patients."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir." Henry shook Tommy's hand, the latter trying his hardest not to grimace at the thick layer of sweat coating the other man's palm.

"Likewise, Mr Mathers. You met my sister in France, then?"

"Yes, sir. We said that if we both made it out of there alive, we'd go for a drink. Ever since I got back I've been searching for her and here I am! And, oh, it was worth the wait to see that face again."

Tommy could no longer suppress the smirk threatening to escape as he looked between Henry's longing gaze and Y/N's very clearly faked happiness crossed with panic.

"Well, my sister is a woman of her word, Mr Mathers, and I'm sure she'd be delighted to be able to catch up with you after all these years." Tommy decided to pause for dramatic effect. "Perhaps you can go to the Garrison tonight, Y/N? We've had it done up recently, it's just around this corner here" Tommy added, pointing in the direction of the pub.

"Oh, that sounds perfect! I shall meet you there at eight o'clock, Miss Shelby." Before Y/N could get a word in edgeways, Henry was removing his bowler hat and bowing his balding head. "Good day to you, Miss Shelby, Mr Shelby." The man continued to walk down the street, a definite spring now in his step.

As soon as he was far enough away, Y/N sent a firm punch to her brother’s stomach. “What the actual fuck, Tommy?” She started to storm down the street quickly, leaving Tommy hurrying after her. “One minute you’re chasing men away from me, and next you’re setting me up on dates with people you don’t know the first thing about!”

“You’re the one who agreed to go for a drink with him in the first place, don’t go blaming me.”

“He had a lot of drugs in his system when he asked, I didn’t think he’d actually remember it.” Catching her brother’s amused smile at her excuse, she continued. “He was on the verge of death, I wasn’t exactly going to say no, was I?”

“Oh, so he fought to stay alive just for you then, eh? Sounds like a keeper to me, Y/N/N.”

“You’re an arse, Thomas Shelby. A complete and utter arse.”

***

Y/N remained in a foul mood with Tommy for the rest of the day, not that this surprised him.

When the hands of the clock hit ten to eight exactly, however, he still knocked on his sister's door to take her to the Garrison himself.

Tommy couldn't help the chuckle that fell from his lips at the sight of Y/N, clad in a beaded black dress, scowling as she stepped out of the house.

"You do know that you're not going to a funeral tonight?"

"Oh, it's my bloody funeral, alright. Might be his too, if he reverts back to his old ways." Y/N started playing with her hands as they made their way towards the pub, something that she'd done since she was little when she was nervous.  

Tommy noticed it immediately, eyebrows furrowing slightly in concern as he recalled Y/N's desperation to avoid Henry. It hadn’t really hit him properly in the moment how desperate she had been. But before he could begin to question what the man's 'old ways' were, his sister spoke again.

"But you were right about one thing earlier, Tommy. I did still agree to go out with Henry, no matter what state he was in when he asked. It would be rude of me not to go through with it and at least act like I'm having a nice time, seeing as he's come all this way for it. So," her voice became sterner, "I'm going to smile my way through the evening, and you'd better not start any fights - do you understand me?"

The older of the two Shelbys sighed, a feeling of dread beginning to build up inside of him. "I can get you out of this if you -"

"No, Tommy." An angry fire was dancing in the young woman's eyes. "You don't get to land me in this situation and then try to snap your fingers and revert it. That's not how this works. This is happening, no thanks to you..." The last part was mumbled under her breath as she pushed the heavy pub doors open.

Tommy hadn't wanted to lose his sister in the same way that he had lost Ada at the beginning – not giving her enough freedom, especially given their argument the other day. So, when a man came along who she had agreed to go for a drink with previously, he had decided (for once) to take the light-hearted and supportive approach, a far cry from the overprotective older brother that he had been since the moment that Y/N had been born.

He was starting to regret even considering changing his ways, and the night had barely begun...

***

From his seat at an ordinary table at the Garrison, Tommy looked at the occupants at the bar once again, probably for about the fifth time in the past two minutes. He had decided not to retreat into the snug, as he usually did, wanting to keep a close eye on Y/N and Henry.

So far, the evening had gone surprisingly well - it was far better than any of Tommy’s imaginings after his discussion with his sister previously. He had heard his sister’s gentle laugh ringing across the room on multiple occasions (and he could tell that it was genuine), and the pair had barely stopped talking.

Maybe this would prove to be a success, Tommy had mused.

One thing that the man’s careful eye had picked up on, however, was how many whiskeys Henry had thrown back. Tommy had concluded that no matter how well things appeared to be going now, he wasn't leaving just yet.

And he was glad he didn't – for just 15 minutes later, as the alcohol began to kick in to Henry's system, things began to go downhill.

It started with the occasional nervous laugh, or a smile that didn’t quite reach his sister's eyes as she avoided Henry's intense gaze. This grew more frequent as Henry continued to drink, and Y/N began playing with her hands once again as well.  

The head of the Shelby family was an inch away from leaping out of his seat when he saw Henry leaning over to whisper in Y/N's ear, and her nose crinkled in disgust at the stench of alcohol on his breath. After a few subtle attempts, she finally managed to push him away from her, and Tommy relaxed slightly as he heard her state a firm "No." His sister was always a lot tougher than he thought.  

But her efforts were undermined as Henry grabbed her left hand, holding it as if he were about to kiss her knuckles. However his grip was far too firm for that. Ripping her hand out of his, Y/N grabbed her bag hurriedly and started to get off her seat, and Tommy stood up himself.

The final straw for the protective brother was when he witnessed Y/N freeze completely as Henry rested a hand on her knee to stop her from leaving. Fists clenched as he tried to contain his anger, remembering his sister's warning about not starting any fights, Tommy marched over to the bar, his lie for getting her out of there already prepared.  

"Y/N, something urgent has come up, we need to call a family meeting – now." Tommy extended a hand to his sister, which she gratefully took as he helped her get down off the barstool and pulled her safely to his side. "Would you get my things from the back room, I've just got something to sort out quickly before we go. I'll see you outside."

Y/N nodded, knowing exactly what Tommy was doing. Shooting her brother a grateful glance, Y/N mumbled a quick "Goodbye" to Henry, and walked off quickly, not wanting to be in the man's company for any longer than necessary.  

***

She slipped out of the back door and into the cold night air, relief washing over her. Lighting a cigarette, Y/N waited for her brother, wondering how he had got to her so quickly – she hadn't seen him once after meeting up with Henry.

A few minutes later, Tommy emerged and went straight to Y/N. "You alright?" His thick Brummie accent comforting her as he, too, lit a cigarette.

Y/N sent him a soft smile as she replied, "I'm fine, Tom. I'm assuming there isn't actually an emergency?" Her voice was laced with amusement.

"Nope."

The siblings stayed there for a while, smoking and listening to the sounds of the pub behind them. Y/N vaguely wondered whether Henry would find them, but looking up at her brother's solid presence beside her, she felt any worries lift off her shoulders.

Out of the blue, Tommy threw his cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out, turning to Y/N. "Come on. Do you fancy going for a walk?"

"Yeah, I need to clear my head." Tommy started to move towards the street. "Oi! I'm finishing this first, you know I hate smoking and walking at the same time!"

***

"You gonna tell me what happened tonight then, eh?"

The pair didn't know how long they had been wandering the streets of Small Heath for, but Tommy's curiosity had finally gotten the better of him.

Y/N sighed, her eyes focused on the cobblestones beneath her. "When Henry first came to us, back in France, he'd been caught up in an explosion. After the doctors had seen him, he was still very drugged up and the chances of him surviving were about fifty-fifty. We had to keep administering him the drugs for a few days, because he was in so much pain. He kept calling me over, wanting to talk to me no matter how busy I was – said that he needed a 'pretty girl' like me to keep him company. I humoured him. But then he started saying things like we were 'meant to be together', 'soulmates' even."  

Y/N paused, thinking hard. "He lied when he showed up today: he said that he asked me out for a drink, but he didn't. What Henry actually said was, and I quote, 'If we both survive this fucking war, I'm going to find you and marry you.' I had no clue what to say. His chances of making it out of the hospital alive, never mind the war, weren't improving. So I said something like 'Well, I hope you buy me a drink first.' I ran off after that, and another one of the nurses took over his care. I had no clue that he was still alive until today.  

"At the pub tonight, I will admit that I did enjoy catching up with him. For someone who I believed to be a lost cause all those years ago, it was nice to hear that he'd actually done something with his life. But then he brought up getting married again, insisting that I was still 'the one' for him and that it was the thought of me that kept him going until the end of the war. He just kept repeating over and over again that he was going to marry me and that we'd be so happy together.

"But just before you came over, he was getting rather forceful about it. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see your stupid face." She laughed a little, noticing her brother's annoyed (yet secretly amused) glare as they sat down next to the Cut.

"It wasn't him that freaked me out, necessarily - it was the thought of marriage. I'm not ready yet, Tom, and to be honest I don't know if I ever will be, no matter how many boys I try and date. I'm terrified of being tied down to someone and losing my independence. I enjoy being by myself too much – and with you lot, I suppose." Y/N nudged her brother's arm.

A comfortable silence settled between the siblings, and Y/N let it sit there, wanting to give Tommy the time to process everything that she had said in her little monologue.

Happiness was one emotion that the elder Shelby didn't expect to feel after hearing his sister's answer to his question. And yet it coursed through his every vein, accompanied by a sort of relief. Tommy wanted his sister to find contentment and peace more than anything; even though he hated the thought of her marrying, of her having someone else to turn to that wasn't him, a few years ago Tommy had come to accept that one day Y/N would want to move on from him and the family. Maybe even start her own family. This acceptance, however, hadn't been able to stop him from deterring nearly any man who came her way. In his mind, anyone that couldn't stand up to Tommy definitely wouldn't be able to deal with his youngest sister, and that they simply weren't good enough for her.

To hear, though, that Y/N had no intention of leaving him yet, was music to his ears. It was also a comfort to know that she was waiting for the right person to get serious with – Tommy felt as though he wouldn't have to spend as much time hunting down every single potential suitor. Instead, he could spend the time with his beloved, if annoying, little sister.

But this was Tommy Shelby, and he would never communicate such vast amounts of emotion verbally. "So I'm stuck with you for a bit longer then?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Y/N couldn't help the grin that spread across her face, understanding the exact meaning behind her brother's words. It widened as she heard Tommy chuckling slightly in response, a sound that she had nearly forgotten. "What did you do with Henry? After I left the pub?"

Tommy cleared his throat, uncomfortably. "He won't be proposing to you again any time soon, don't you worry, sweetheart."

"Tommy, I thought I said - "

"No fighting, I know. And I did as you said, I didn't start any tonight." He looked, almost sheepishly, over at Y/N, who had adopted Polly's stern expression. "I told him that if I saw him again in our city, I'd cut him myself, and the same applies for if he tries to contact you again."

The younger Shelby sighed and rolled her eyes, fondly. "Well, I can't complain about that, can I?" Y/N heard the bells of the church chime, telling her that it was midnight. She turned to Tommy. "Home?"

He nodded. "Home," and he knew exactly where that was tonight. Tommy stood up and brushed the dirt off of his trousers, whilst Y/N got up too. They were about to set off when Tommy held his hand out to his sister, just like he used to when they were younger. Y/N instinctively took it, a feeling of warmth spreading throughout her body. She felt loved, and knew for certain that this love was the only one that she needed at the moment.

Tommy didn't let go until they reached the front door, comforted in the knowledge that Y/N was going to remain his little girl for a while longer yet.

[qianinterprises]

Lies {Ten x Reader}

Author's Note: I wrote this in a few days and it has not been beta read so I'm more than a little sure it will have grammatical and spelling errors. I still hope you enjoy though!

Synopsis: You are hiding a big secret. A secret that, to keep hidden, you continuously lie to your boyfriend about.

Pairing: Ten x Reader

Word Count: 3600 words

Brisk, polluted air washed over the city, bringing the soft, fresh scent of morning to the land. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but the city was awake, shop owners unlocking their doors, cars stuck at traffic lights, half dressed and hung over men and women doing the walk of shame. It was the same every morning. Except, this morning, there was a slight difference.

You tugged your boyfriend's jacket tighter as a soft breeze breathed across your body. You weren’t usually awake at this hour, preferring to sleep well into the morning, but today, there was too much to think about. Too much on your mind. You’d slept as long as you could, but, for once, your boyfriend's embrace was unable to lull your racing thoughts.

Life could be complicated. Just when you were starting to enjoy it, it threw you a curveball. Typically, those curveballs somehow made everything fall into place, somehow kickstarted your life in some new, better direction. This time, life had done more than throw you a curveball. It kicked you in the crotch and spit in your cereal.

Your fingers wrapped around the cool rail of the balcony and sighed. Worries and fears rushed through your mind. How were you going to tell Ten? How were you going to tell your family and his? How did you even feel about all of this?

A hand dropped down to your stomach, still aching and cramping from the early morning sickness. Your eyes shut. This was the last thing you needed. Yet here you were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure? You could just be late this time,” your best friend had asked.

You weren’t. All you were certain of was it had been two weeks since you were supposed to get your period and it still hadn’t shown up. Now, you didn’t like bleeding from your lady bits, but it was always a sure sign that your uterus was perfectly unhappy without a fertilized egg nestled inside its warm walls. Without a bloody hissy fit producing a murder scene in your pants and with some sort of stomach virus churning up your guts, you were beginning to get worried.

“Have you been to the doctor?” she asked.

“Yeah right, they’d call here and Ten would somehow end up answering and find out the truth from some middle-aged balding guy instead of me!”

She raised her hands in surrender.

“Then… a drugstore test?” she asked.

“How? I’d end up using my credit card and when he pays the bill, he’d see a weird charge and ask me about it, then I’d have to tell him after he’d backed me into a corner!”

She sighed, clearly getting annoyed.

“Do you want me to get it for you?”

You paused a moment to think, a smile blossoming across your face.

“That’d be great!”

She let out a groan and slid up off the couch, grabbing her purse.

“If you are, I get to name it,” she declared before marching out of your apartment.

As her car started and back out of the driveway, you grabbed your favorite blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around you, burrowing yourself deeper into the fuzzy softness as your stomach twisted in knots. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath, praying for a good answer, but the issue was, you had no idea what answer you truly wanted.

On one hand, you loved Ten with all your heart and would jump at the chance of having a family with him. On the other, he was an idol. He was an idol in NCT no less that was constantly traveling back and forth between South Korea and China for promotions. He was busy. His career was just getting good. Something like this could, not only change your life, but alter his forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It hadn’t taken long for your best friend to get back from the pharmacy. It was only right down the road after all. Still, as soon as she stepped in the door, holding up a bag filled with packages of sticks that could show your future and alter your life, you tightened the blanket around you. Did you even want to know?

She sat down on the edge of the couch seeming to read your mind as she brought a hand up to softly stroke over your shoulder. Her gaze softened. You knew she understood. It wasn’t long ago that she’d also had a pregnancy scare which had resulted in simply being food poisoning.

You doubted that was the case this time.

“It’ll be better once you know. Then, there’s no longer the lingering curiosity and fear,” she encouraged softly.

She was right. You knew that, but nothing could stop the anxiety from pooling in your stomach as you cast your eyes at the shopping bag.

“How many did you get?” you asked.

“Five. Just to be certain,” she said softly.

With a nod and a deep breath, you reached for the bag still resting in her hand. You carried it to the bathroom, locking the door. You knew she wouldn’t barge in on you, but as shuddered breaths fell from your lips, you knew you needed to do this next part completely alone.

You unpackaged each of the tests and lined them up in an easily accessible row.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eight minutes later, you sat on the bathroom floor, back pressed against the door as your eyes sharply watched the timer on your phone count down. Your chest clenched at the last few seconds before it dinged in your hand, signaling time was up. The tests were ready and, once you looked at the results, you would finally have answers, answers you possibly didn’t want.

“Deep breaths, (y/n),” you whispered to yourself.

You shut your timer off and eased yourself off the floor, hands trembling as you reached for the closest plastic stick. What were you even hoping for?

Your fingers closed around the plastic and your eyes closed, breath becoming shallow. Just a few more seconds. Few more seconds of ignorant bliss before you would be forced to learn the truth.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and opened your eyes, two pink lines on the stick greeting you.

The test fell from your hands as your body crumpled to the ground, tears spilling from your eyes and cascading down your face.

“(y/n)?” your best friend asked.

You didn’t respond. Your body shuddered as silent sobs racked through your body. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy or that you’d never dreamed of having a family, you just never expected it to happen like this, especially when you could not only ruin your life, but the life of a child and your boyfriends.

It was a few extra minutes before you were finally able to pull yourself off the floor and unlock the door. Your best friend gaped at your teary eyes, face etched with worry, but she opened her arms and you dropped into them, wrapping your arms around her tightly and clinging to her.

“It… It was… p-positive,” you stammered.

She squeezed you tightly, hands rubbing up and down your back.

“I’m pregnant…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By sheer luck, Ten hadn’t come home that night, choosing to stay at the WayV dorm with Hendery and Xiaojun who, according to Ten, were distraught and upset that they didn’t get to see Ten every day anymore.

His absence had allowed you time to dispose of the tests, all of which read positive, burying them in the trash and making a mental note to take the trash out the next day. You’d also had time to calm yourself down enough to make a decision.

Getting rid of the baby wasn’t an option. You loved children. You’d always loved the prospects of having a child. Even if Ten wanted nothing to do with you or the child, you were not going to simply get rid of it. If he left and you decided you couldn’t do it on your own, you would check yourself into a facility that would help you and give the baby up for adoption. If you thought you could handle it, you would raise your own child. Because no matter what Ten said, you still had your own choices to make.

That night, you had settled down with a sappy romance movie and a bowl of ice cream, curled up in one of Ten’s shirts in bed, preparing to tell him the next day.

However, that day would never come.

As the next day rolled around, you had put off telling him and, as the days ticked by, you kept making excuses not to. Pretty soon, you’d hit the three month mark with a healthy baby and your flat stomach was starting to expand. You’d always worn baggier shirts so, covering up wasn’t a big deal, but the constant sickness and cravings were getting harder to hide.

Arms wrapped around your waist, causing you to jump, thoughts evaporating into the chilly air.

“What are you doing up so early?” he whispered sleepily against your ear, a chill running down your spine.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you calmly responded.

He hummed against your ear and squeezed you a little closer. You winced as his arms tightened around your stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head.

“I’m still getting over this virus, I guess,” you lied.

Ten was an attentive man, so when he noticed how often you were getting sick, in the mornings specifically, he had immediately asked you about it. Being on the spot and not quite ready to tell him the truth, you’d lied that you’d been hanging around a friend with the stomach virus and they must have given it to you. He had bought it, insisting that you go to the doctor if it got worse, but you had declined. Now, weeks after you’d first lied, as your sickness continued, Ten was becoming more freaked out, begging you to go to the hospital, convinced that you were dying.

Not wanting to admit that you’d been lying, and slightly concerned that, even three months into your pregnancy, you were still getting sick, you had waited until Ten was doing promotions before going to your doctor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s nice to see you again, Ms. (y/l/n), how have you been feeling?” your doctor, Dr. Byun asked, taking a seat on the plush stool by the laptop.

“I’ve been alright. Just concerned. I know I’m around three months, but I would have thought the morning sickness would have ceased by now…”

He let out a hum and pulled your chart up on your laptop.

“Your last check-up was two weeks ago. Did they do an ultrasound? I’m not seeing it in here.”

You shook your head.

“Alright, so that’s the first step. I will tell you that morning sickness at three months usually goes away, but it is completely common and natural for some women to experience sickness well after that,” he responded.

You let out a sigh. Ten would never buy it if you told him your throwing up was completely normal. But you nodded and he stepped from the room to get a nurse to set up an ultrasound.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the ultrasound, Dr. Byun came back, holding his notes.

“It looks like everything is normal. It’s possible that the baby is simply rejecting some of the nutrients given. I know oftentimes during pregnancy, the baby craves sweets, junk-food, or other things, but I would recommend trying to eat as many fruits and vegetables as possible. This will help give the baby nutrients and hopefully quell the sickness. However, I am going to send your blood-work to the labs and see if there is anything else going on.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That had been a week ago and still, even with extra vegetables and well-balanced meals, the sickness persisted, and with it, grew Ten’s worry.

“Maybe I should take you to the hospital if it keeps getting worse,” he suggested, mumbling against your ear.

You shook your head.

“I trust Dr. Byun. He says it can be normal when the ba- I mean, when the immune system needs a little extra nutrients,” you answered.

He didn’t respond for a long moment, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Did Dr. Byun ever call you back with your bloodwork results?” he asked.

You shook your head. It was the truth. Sort of.

You really did feel bad for lying to him. It never was your intention, but the longer you kept your secret, the harder it got to tell him. Part of you wished you’d just come clean the day he’d gotten home so, you’d at least know how he felt and whether or not you’d be doing it alone. The other part of you was terrified the moment you told him that you’d be giving him up.

He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, lips touching your skin in a soft kiss that made you shudder in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered against your skin.

Your heart melted. If he truly loved you, would he stay? Would he understand why you lied? Would he accept you and the baby as his?

Suddenly, you felt brave enough to come clean. No matter what, you were confident that love would prevail.

“Ten I-”

You were cut off as his phone began to ring.

He sighed, letting his head drop onto your shoulder before reaching into his pajamas pants to retrieve his phone.

“Hello?”

You couldn’t hear who was on the other end, but it was definitely Kun or their manager.

“Now?” he asked.

His nose crinkled in annoyance.

“But (y/n)’s still sick!”

A huff fell from his lips.

“Fine,” he growled into the receiver, hanging up the phone and shoving it back into his pocket, eyes fixing hard on the railing.

“I have to go. Some stupid radio show decided last minute they want us there and we can’t get out of it now,” he grumbled.

You turned around, your courage disappearing as you placed a soft hand on his cheek.

“It’s alright baby. Go, I’ll be here when you get back,” you spoke softly.

He leaned his cheek against your hand, leaning his face closer to press a gentle kiss to your wrist. Butterflies erupted in your stomach.

“I’ll be home after lunch,” he promised.

With that, he hurried back inside.

You watched him disappear into your shared bedroom before facing the city again. The sun was now almost all the way over the horizon.

Would Ten still kiss you like that if he knew?

Your heart clinched heavily in your chest.

Would you be able to live without him if he left?

Ten’s POV

Something wasn’t right. Ten knew that. What he didn’t know was what. (Y/n) had been sick for several weeks and, despite her reassurance that everything was “normal” and “fine,” he couldn’t shake the notion that you were lying about something.

As his car pulled up to the WayV dorm where their manager would be picking them up, he glanced down at his phone. He had been expecting to see you in his background, smiling blissfully, looking as radiant and beautiful as ever by the lake they’d visited over the summer, right before you’d gotten sick. What he saw instead was himself, grinning and holding a small cupcake with purple icing, a single lit candle waiting to be blown out. The picture you’d taken on his birthday.

Confused, he turned the phone over in his hand and shook his head in minor annoyance at the cute little stickers of Ten and the other members of WayV stuck on the clear phone case. Your phone case.

He must have accidentally taken your phone rather than his own in his rush to get dressed and get to the dorm.

A small laugh bubbled to his throat. He knew getting matching phones and phone cases would end up being a bad idea, but you had insisted.

The phone vibrated in his hand and he laughed as his own name popped onto the screen.

From Ten<3: Babe, you took my phone instead :D

Ten shook his head.

To Ten<3: guess you’ll have to forward me updates from everyone today!

From Ten<3: Or I could keep them all to myself and “forget” to tell you

He sent back a laughing emoji and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. He stepped out of his car as the large van meant to take them to the radio show pulled up. He waved to the manager driving and laughed to himself as YangYang led the way sprinting from the building, Lucas and Hendery hot on his heels.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was in the middle of the show that Ten felt the phone buzzing in his pocket. As Lucas energetically retold the story of how he’d managed to pull off a prank on Kun and WinWin, Ten discreetly pulled the phone from his pocket. Dr. Byun flashed across the screen and Ten’s heart quickened. On one hand, he wanted to respect your privacy and not answer the call. On the other, he desperately wanted some answers.

“We’re going to take a quick break! We’ll be right back!” the host said over the speaker.

That was all the answer Ten needed to hear.

He clicked the green answer button and pressed his phone to his ear, quickly making his way out of the room before anyone could question him.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Byun, is Ms. (y/l/n) nearby?” he asked.

“She isn’t but I’m her boyfriend. I can take a message.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ten knew he shouldn’t have said them, but part of him couldn’t help being curious, his gut too filled with worry to think rationally.

“I’m calling to let her know we got her results back. Her sickness is being caused by an anemia that sometimes has the effect on women carrying children. The fetus isn’t getting enough protein nutrients. We’d recommend she eat more red meat and add anemia vitamins to her prenatal vitamins. If the sickness doesn’t stop in two weeks, she should come back in for another visit,” he said.

The phone dropped from Ten’s hand, hitting the floor hard. His eyes were wide, hands shaking. His left knee gave out first, buckling beneath his weight. He clutched the wall for support.

“Ten!”

Kun’s voice barely reached his ears as his heart pounded.

The leaders arms wrapped around Ten’s middle, leading him to lean against him as Kun held him up.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok? Are you feeling faint?”

Ten didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall.

Pregnant. That’s why you kept throwing up…

Your POV

The moment you’d noticed you were left with Ten’s phone, anxiety pooled in your stomach. You had no idea when Dr. Byun was going to call or whether Ten would answer. Dr. Byun telling Ten the truth was not exactly the best way for him to find out. Especially since you’d been lying to him.

The minute the door to your shared apartment flew open, slamming hard against the wall, your hands began to shake.

“Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me?!” he snapped as soon as he rounded the corner.

His face was red with anger, a sight you weren’t used to seeing. Ten didn’t get angry a lot. And when he did, he often had good outlets, like dance, to vent his anger.

He yanked your phone out of his pocket and threw it on the couch, making you flinch.

“You lied to me! For months! Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” he seethed.

Yours eyes glazed as they met his, tears gathering, but you blinked, refusing to let them fall when his anger was your fault to begin with.

“I-I… I was afraid… I didn’t want to lose you…”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you wanted to take them back. His face fell. His arms tumbled precariously to his side. Tears gathered in his own eyes, escaping and cascading slowly down his face.

Ten didn’t cry often. His pride prevented it. Watching his shoulders begin to tremble and shake had guilt gripping at your heart tightly.

“Did I not prove my love to you enough?” he asked, voice stammering.

You stared at him for a moment before sliding yourself off the couch and wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders.

“I know you love me baby. But… your career… I was afraid you’d leave me… leave us… because I was holding you back from this…”

It was a long moment before he responded.

His hands cupped your face gently, brushing away the tears you hadn’t realized were beginning to fall.

“My career is important. I love being in WayV, but you always come first. And now, you and the baby come first,” he spoke softly.

He trailed his hand down to softly rest it on your stomach. A water smile spread across your face.

“You’re going to have to do a lot of the parenting alone. So I’ll understand if you want to leave me to find the baby a father that will be there to help you. Otherwise, I’m with you all the way.”

You brought your gaze to his, searching his eyes for jokes or laughter. Finding none, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close to you.

“Our baby could have no better father than you,” you whispered softly.

He pressed his lips delicately to yours, drawing you in closer and holding you against him.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Both of you.”

[kagedaddy]

you meet again - haikyuu!

Warnings: none

boyfriend scenarios [2] [masterlist]

daichi sawamura

You were regretting your decision, why did you think it was a great idea to bring a bento for Daichi Sawamura.

Oh yeah it was your apology gift.

Your captain had given you a lecture and because you felt really bad when you saw him a few days after, where a large bruise had formed on his cheek.

You sighed before straightening yourself out, what’s so scary about apologising.

Trying to quietly slide the door open, you peek your head in scanning the room until you meet eyes with the men’s volleyball captain, he looks at you in question and you enter the room.

“Uh hi.”you greet and the two males seated next to him turns to him in amusement,”(last name), what are you doing here, can I help you?”he smiles brightly, how can he be so happy to see me when I’ve rammed a door to his face.

“I’ve brought you a bento as an apology for the bruise on your face.”you move the bento in his view, his friends beside him whisper to each other glancing between you and their friend.

A deep blush tints your face and all the more his friends smile with widened eyes,”oh thank you, (last name).”his cheeks burn the same shade as yours he takes the neatly made bento and a grateful smile graces his lips, you can’t help but swoon at it.

“Do you want to join us for lunch?”he stammers which makes his friends snicker at the poor blushing male,”I’ve already had lunch.”you shake your head and politely bowed before you leave.

Your movements are halted when you feel his hand take yours, you turn to face him quirking your eyebrow in question.”Let me walk you back to your classroom.”he smiles awkwardly but you found it charming.

You just nod your head and let him walk you to your classroom.

sugawara koushi

It had been a week since you had started in Karasuno High, it definitely had been an interesting week and it wasn’t as bad as you thought. Though it was difficult at first to settle into the classes but you had a few people help you out.

You were a little bit bummed, you weren’t seeing your grey haired as often because of his club activities, he was the first friend you made in your new school.

The class before lunch had just finished and you couldn’t be more happier, you had skipped breakfast this morning and your stomach was surely grinding itself, to simply put it you could eat a horse.

“(last name), do you wanna have lunch together?”the familiar soft voice of your grey haired friend pulls you out of your thoughts, you turn to the male flashing him a smile,”sure,”you happily agree before getting up and following wherever he was leading you, he pushes open the roof access of your school.

You both sit crossed leg across each other and unbinded your bento boxes, pulling out the compartments,”いただきます。(thank you for the food)”you clap your hands and quickly taking a bite of your lunch, swaying around and almost moaning in satisfaction.

“You’re so cute, (last name)”Sugawara softly chuckles as he takes a bite from his lunch, your cheeks heat up and you quickly swallowed your food.

You stare up at the male before you, hazel eyes boring into yours, you both look away with flushed cheeks,”uh do you wanna try some?”you move your bento closer to his, he nods before plucking a pork cutlet out.

He moans as he takes a bite,”wow! It’s really good!”he gushes, as gentle smile resting on his lips,”thanks, I made them!”you say proudly and his eyes shine impressed with your product.

“Nee (last name), make me some next time,”he playfully winks but next time you were definitely gonna make more to share with him.

asahi azumane

“Asahi and (last name) can you please collect the activity form from all the third years, thank you”Shinra sensei pulls you out of your thoughts as you heard your name be called, oh no you were partnered with Asahi.

He was scary.

You nod your head to the sensei and he continued on with the last announcements for homeroom. Once he finished you walked over to Asahi, still hesitant to face the intimidating male especially from the last encounter when you bumped into him.

“Asahi, when’s a good time for you to collect the activity sheets?”you asked the long haired male, he looks down at you his height towering you by a lot. 

“We can do it now.”his voice was gentle very different from his appearance which takes you aback, you shyly nod and follow his lead on collecting the activity sheets.

You observe the male before you, with his towering frame you would think he has a scary personality but how wrong you were.

The male was practically so nervous to speak to his peers that you had to step in, stifling a tiny giggle as you continue to watch him.

“Asahi are you alright?”the male looked like he was having an anxiety attack, you put a comforting hand on his arm and help him with his breathing,”breathe in, breathe out,”you set a pace for him and he relaxes.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that (last name), I’m not too good with dealing with people,”he lowers his head in embarrassment cheeks flushed.

“It’s okay Asahi, it happens to the best of us,”you flash him a reassuring smile and he returns one though it looked uncomfortable.

nishinoya yuu

“(last name), wait up! Let’s walk to class together!”you whirl around to meet the source of the sound only to be met by the rolling thunder male, you slowed your pace and waited for him.

“You actually waited for me.”he says excitedly as you now both walked side by side, bumping into you slightly you couldn’t help but giggle at the energetic male,”Why wouldn’t I? You asked nicely.”you turn to him in confusion and he just shakes his head,”Everyone says I’m annoying.”

“I think you’re just full of energy.”you giggle as you both enter the gates of Karasuno High, people staring at you both as Nishinoya continues to bounce around beside you.

“Oi Nishinoya is she your girlfriend now?”the baldy called out, you face turns red and so does Nishinoya’s, you remembered him he was the guy Nishinoya trampled over,”Baka Tanaka, she’s just my friend. We’re walking to class together.”he sticks his tongue out at the bald male and laughs loudly earning odd looks from our peers.

“Sorry about him, he’s always like that.”Nishinoya turns to you shyly pink peppering his skin, you wave it off,”its okay!”

You arrived at your classroom and like a gentlemen he opens the door for you, bending over as if he was a butler,”oh thank you dear sir.”you play along and his smiled widens.

Taking your seat at the second row, Nishinoya pulls out the chair beside your seat and brings it to your table,”I was wondering you’d wanna catch lunch together?”

“sure but is it okay if (friend name) joins, we always have lunch together”

“yeah, I’ll bring Tanaka too and I can show you more of my rolling thunder.”

tanaka ryuunosuke

The cafe was empty today except for the usual customers who studied here until closing time which were still few, since it was not busy this evening you take a seat in one of the booth and pulled out your homework, working on them so you didn’t have to do it later.

The soft jingle of the bell pulls you out from your work and you’re surprised to see the bald male from the other day. You walk over to the counter to take his order.

“Hi, what would you like this evening?”you smile at him and his face flushes a bright shade of pink,”I’d like your number!”he blurts out, blushing more and you giggle at him amused by his antics.

“Uh, I’ll have a latte please.”he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, quickly paying and leaves to find a seat, he smacks his head and you silently giggle more.

Once you finishing making his drink you serve it to his table,”one latte for the MVP of the game,”you had recalled the name of his cup last time and a smile graces his lips before accepting the coffee from you.

You return to the booth you had been studying at and immersed yourself in your homework once again.

A looming figure casts a shadow on your work and you look up to meet the bald male,”uh hi, can I keep you company?”he gestures to the free seat across you and you nod your head, a wide smile plasters on his face.

“What school do you go to?”he looks at the papers spread out on the table,”Shiratorizawa Academy.”you answered as you continued to scribble on the sheets,”oh! I heard it’s a tough school to get into, I’m from Karasuno High.”

“I can tell from your jacket the other day.”you smile at him and he blushes and laughs awkwardly,”oh yeah!”

You both continue to talk back and forth, just enjoying a light conversation,”Oh shoot, I have go! I’ll see you around.”he looks at his phone and begins to stand.

“Yeah, I’ll see you around”,you scribble on the paper before ripping it,“here you go, since you asked for it”you hand him the paper with your number written down on it, his eyes widen in surprise before jumping up from his seat.

“Yes!!”

You can only  laugh as you watch his giddy figure leave the cafe.

kageyama tobio

You groan as your phone sounds for the millionth time, finally deciding to reach for the device on your night stand, popping any eye open you scroll through the different notifications and you stop at the message from Kageyama Tobio.

‘(last name)-san sorry practice was running late. I’ll drop by my place and then I’ll head straight to yours.’

Your eyes widen as you read the message, sent 15 minutes ago. You jump out of your bed and rush towards the bathroom to quickly make yourself look presentable, brushing out the tangles of your hair and applying light makeup to make your face less ‘I literally just woke up’ look.

Just as you slip on comfortable shorts the doorbell goes off. You run to the front door before straightening out your clothes before opening it, he’s dressed in casual clothes, he’s in a dark plain tee and possibly volleyball shorts with his Karasuno Volleyball Club jacket.

“Kageyama, please come in.”you move out of the way to make space for your guest and he quietly enters removing his outdoor shoes and slipping into the house slippers.

He stands awkwardly at the foyer,”uh let’s work in my room?”it comes out more of a question and your face heats up looking away at the towering male, you’ve never invited a guy into your room before.

You lead him in your room and settle on the floor table,”what should we start on?”you ask flipping through the pages of the material given,”wait what exactly are we meant to do?”he asks face full of confusion and you stare at him before blushing a the fact that you also did not know what to do.

You giggle at his confused face and his turns a shade of red before looking at the material given again,”we’re meant to be watch a film every week to discuss and make a report about it.”you explain pointing at the section where there’s a list of movies.”oh okay”

“Let watch the first movie,”pulling up your laptop and finding the film on some random website, once you found the movie.

You and Kageyama squeeze beside each other, the male blushing madly at the proximity and your face mirroring his, shoulder brushing with each other as your try to watch in the screen of your computer.

With both of your faces flushed red, you click to start the movie.

hinata shouyo

“(last name), I’m ready to start the tutoring session,”the orange haired male looks at you with determination, popping his head through your club room door.

You look up from your paperwork and beckon your classmate to join you,”that’s good to hear Hinata,”you say cheerfully and he takes a seat right beside you.

“Alright, let’s review on the lesson today so it’s still fresh!”you pull out your notes from today,”do you have any questions from today’s discussion?”

“Yeah I have a question, what did we discuss about?”he scratches his head in confusion and you can’t help but laugh at his cluelessness,”don’t worry, that’s why I’m here to help,”you reassure the male as his shoulders slump in discouragement.

You both slowly try to go through the discussion today, the orange male trying his hardest to pay attention.

After half an hour of trying to pronounce the English words and still not getting it quite right,he was so close but he gives up.

“I can’t do it,”he slams his head on the desk, wailing about his failure, you watch him amused, he was easily disheartened.

You rub his back gently as he continues to wail in sadness,”Hinata, it’s still the first tutoring session.”he pull his head from the table and you guys begin again.

Doing better in the second half of the hour but he was still down in the dumps.

“I don’t want to not play volleyball,”his eyes widens in realisation, you ruffle is orange head smiling at the male.

“Then we’ll work hard to study Hinata!”

tsukishima kei

“(first name), dear. We’re having visitors over for dinner.”you hear your mother’s soft voice through the loud music blaring from your room,”okay, who’s coming over?”you ask turning the volume down of your music,”our neighbours two houses down, the Tsukishimas.”

“Oh!”you had wondered why all of a sudden your mom had invited them but that was how she was, always inviting people over. You weren’t too bothered to see the blonde male, he was mean but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

After awhile you hear your mom answer the door and you fully turn down the volume of your music and changing into a more presentable outfit for the guests. 

You exit your room to politely greet your guests.

You see three sets of blonde hair and your mom ushering them to the living room,”(first na)-”your mom cuts herself off as she sees you in the hallway,”Good evening,”you bow your head respectfully making Mrs. Tsukishima gushes over you and you flush from her sweet words.

“(last name)-chan, do you know my son Kei.”she pulls on the lanky male whose face is set with a scowl,”yes, he helps me reach my books in the library, Tsukishima-san.”you smile nicely at the woman who looks too sweet to know her son’s snake tongue.

“Awwe my Kei is too sweet. This is my other older son Akiteru.”she pulls the shorter blonde male who in turn flashes you a smile which makes blush more.

“Let’s have dinner before the food gets cold,”your mom ushers all of you to the dinning table where a spread of food had been prepared, you take a seat by your mom,”Kei, sit beside (last name)-chan so her mom and I can chat, the younger blonde just grunts in response and awkwardly sits beside you.

“いただきます。(thank you for the food),”you all thank your mom for the food before digging in the meal before you. 

Dinner was silent except for the occasional chats from both your moms and form Akiteru asking you about school, which you were polite to answer. 

While the younger Tsukishima just kept giving you side glares to which you stared back to, not backing down.

“Kei, why don’t you walk (last name)-chan to school everyday.”his mother says, you flush pink in embarrassment.

“Fine.”

yamaguchi tadashi

“Hey! I’m Tanaka, you’re a cute first year.”an intimidating bald male approaches, you step to create some distance between you two as he started to make you feel a little bit uncomfortable.

“Hi, Tanaka-senpai.”you say bowing to your head slightly in respect, the male lights up,”she called me senpai,”he takes your hand and swoons over you, awkwardly trying to remove his hands from yours.

“(last name), shall we get going?”Yamaguchi waves you over and you sigh in relief before politely excusing yourself from the second year. 

“Nee Yamaguchi, she your girlfriend?”the second year turns his attention to the both of you and blush in embarrassment,”No, I’m just tutoring her Tanaka-san,”Yamaguchi stammers but the more his face burns red, the bald male looks doubtful but drops the topic.

You walk side by side with Yamaguchi towards the library, you both take a seat at the farthest part of the library, where there were barely any students,”alright, let’s get started.”he pulls out his notes and you lean close to him so you can see what he was explaining.

After an hour of studying, you guys were in the same position but both of you seated very close to each other as you had completely leaned your body on the male.

The green haired male becomes very flustered and blushes madly,”Yamaguchi, are you alright? Your face looks like its burning up.”you tilt your head in worry, reaching over to touch his forehead his eyes widen and moves away blushing even more.

“You look feverish Yamaguchi, we can call it a night.”you smiled at the male as you decide to pack for the both of you,”uh yeah.”he quickly shoves everything into his bag and you both walk out the library.

Before Yamaguchi could open his mouth you cut him off,”don’t worry, you don’t have to walk me home. Get home safe!”you waved as you walked to the opposite direction as him.

“Hope you’ll feel better Yamaguchi-kun”

//

heyya! finally on the second boyfriend scenarios and i know it’s late hehe. if you guys enjoyed today’s post please leave a like and comment, thanks and have a great day! 

all the love xx

[shotofire]

bonjour,how are you ? well a oneshot for levi with a kind and shy cadet s/o, who respect everybody but when she gets mad, she'll answer with sarcasm cuz she's dumbass without being afraid or caring about the punishment(even if it's keith or another chef, no body have the right to treat her like a shit) merçi beaucoup ^^✨

Hi friend :p i’m great and I hope you are as well ! Thank you for the request <3

LEVI ACKERMAN x F!READER

Warnings: cursing, age gap (legal of course)

Season: not specified

-

Becoming apart of the Survey Corps was everything but glamorous. Not that anyone would think that, but things definitely were on the ugly side most of the time. To be a scout required discipline and a huge amount of focus. To lay down your life without a second thought would be hard for just about anyone. For some reason, you found it rather easy.

Not a single person believed when you’d say it wasn’t that complicated. Of course knowing you’re going to die isn’t the most exciting thing to come to terms with, but every scout needs to. When your mind is set like that you only excel from there, and that’s exactly what you did. Many of your peers found you admirable, and only wished they could think they way you do.

Levi Ackerman especially found interest in you. At first to find a girl younger than him was controversial, only to him, and he worried that others would accuse you of trying to climb up in the ranks. Soon everyone knew Levi was not the reason you excelled. Sure he’d help you train and push you to your limits, but your natural inner strength is what has kept you alive.

The two of you never classified your relationship, but it was obvious it was closer than an ordinary friendship. There has been several occasions where a group of cadets have spotted you sneaking out of his office. One time Erwin saw you go in without even knocking, that’s the day he knew Levi Ackerman was definitely whipped.

Many couldn’t imagine how you two even came together. Levi was quiet, and only really spoke when giving orders. Then there was you, the quietest girl that had ever entered the Survey Corps. Nobody was being dramatic when they said to hear you speak was rare. You tried to keep to yourself, getting close to others was a weakness. Then Levi entered your life and screwed up that little plan, and now you were perfectly smitten with the captain.

The relationship, or whatever you’d call it, was kept at a minimum to the eyes of others. The furthest it had gone to give others a clue were the office visits, and the way you’d smile at him in the halls or during training.

Before the two of you became a thing you’d given him a few sarcastic remarks. Initially he saw you as someone who needed remediation, but that soon changed. The man saw so much of himself in you it was ridiculous, and he soon started to understand you. On the occasions you’d been a urchin he realized that you were simply sticking up for yourself.

It shocked many to hear the quiet girl stand up for herself, especially to someone as scary as Levi. Unlike everyone else, you didn’t find him intimidating. In all honestly, you didn’t find any of the commanders, chiefs, or captains worth cowering over. You’d experienced titans break down the wall to your home village and devour people in your late teenage years. A couple of humans were the least of your fears, especially men.

Those sarcastic remarks and dramatic eye rolls is what drew the captain in. Not to mention your strength was something they hadn’t seen in years. Some would go as far to say you were worth a hundred soldiers. The raven-haired man made it his mission to get closer with you. This feeling had never been within Levi, that’s how he knew you were special.

He knew you so well after years of watching you become stronger and more skilled. You may be young but you were better than half the soldiers who’d been fighting for a decade longer.

Levi was worried about today, it had been on his mind for weeks. It was time for commander Keith to do his annual checkup. Levi found it rather pointless but it had to be done. The sunkened eyed man always came when he brought a new batch of soldiers. Levi had managed to steer you clear of him year after year, but it still worried him. Keith was a loud and rude man most of the time, and that was your biggest pet peeves. To come face to face with a walking version of the things you hated wouldn’t end well. He knew if the man pushed your buttons in the wrong place you’d have plenty to say.

He spent majority of the day convincing you to train with him away from everyone else. It was his usual solution for this day, to have you separated. As the years went by you started to pick up on it, it’s not like you were dumb. Around the same time every year Levi did this and it started to become obvious and you knew something was happening.

Right now you were trying to take the wooden knife from his hand and pin him down, which was something you hadn’t done since the earlier years. It had been round after round of outsmarting him and throwing him to the ground that you finally spoke your mind, “Levi what’s going on? Everyone is gathered out front and we’re here, I want to get the experience that the others are.” He could see the frustration running through you, and the annoyed on your face expression was prominent.

You didn’t like when Levi took you to do things one on one when everyone else was together. There was a fear of judgment, what if they thought you were getting special treatment? This is what that was to you. Levi was much more skilled than anyone else out there and you were getting to do combat with him, which is unfair in your eyes. “I just wanted to have some alone time with you, is that okay?” The man may have a face that mainly consists of one expression, but you knew he was lying.

He knew you saw right through him once you scoffed. “I’m going to join everyone else, feel free to come with.” There was no stopping you now, even if he tried it’d be more obvious that something was going on. Your eyes scanned the groups of your fellow cadets, and a few you didn’t recognize. Did we get a new group today? You asked yourself.

Before you can really process what’s going on, a bald man with weird eyes is making his way towards you. You recognized his face from past expeditions, but didn’t care enough to remember his name. “Late to meet new fellow cadets?” He asked baffled, a bit dramatic in your opinion. Getting new cadets was nothing special or new, so who cares if you were late? Half of them would be titan food in the next month.

He was quick to talk before letting you answer, but you weren’t sure if you were even going to say anything. For a second you considered just walking away. Someone coming up to you and raising there voice for no reason was enough to irritate anyone. “You’ve been here for years but have never bothered to show up to one of these, maybe you should learn some respect cadet.”

Levi watched from afar with wide eyes. Of course Keith was already talking to you, the man had it out for you. He’s complain that you kept to yourself too much and it was suspicious, and hated that you never showed up to these. Half of that was obviously Levi’s fault. Keith wasn’t aware of that and also wasn’t aware of your relationship with the captain.

Keith’s eyes become staggered when you let out a light snicker, cheeks upturning into a smile. “What the hell is funny?” He asks with his arms crossed, still trying to be intimidating. “The fact that you think i’d ever be afraid of someone like you.” Your words made his mouth fall, no one had ever said something like that to him. He’s pretty much convinced himself at this point that everyone feared him in some way. Then there was you, showing him he was completely wrong.

“You should have some respect!” The man says, stepping closer to you. “So coming up to me without introducing yourself and yelling in my face earns you respect? I don’t know where the fuck you came from, but we say hello first here.” He was down right astonished by you. The smirk on your face made his blood boil, you had zero alarm of him. Before he could come back at you, which he was struggling to think of something, Levi’s hands were on your waist. “Oh well okay, i’m gonna take her away from you now.”

Levi nervously laughs as he pulls you away from Keith. You didn’t want to be around him any longer so Levi taking you away was perfectly fine with you. “What’s that guys deal?” You asked with your lips pushed up and you eyebrows knitted. “As you can tell, he’s not a fan of you.” Well duh, you could tell. You look over Levi’s shoulder to see the man was still looking at you with his same crossed arms. “What a freak,” you mumbled and Levi huffed.

“That freak is pretty important to the scouts, he could have you removed if he really wanted to.” That statement didn’t scare you one bit. Everyone would raise hell if you got taken away, Levi even knew it. “He said I never show up to these, do you know why?” Your brow is quirked and your hand is on you hip, fingers tapping against it. It had become evident that Levi had kept you away from the man, but that seemed to have made things worse over the years.

“I’m sorry,” he said while scratching the back of his head. He knew you had already figured it out by the way you were looking at him. You laughed a bit at his mannerism, the guy really had you isolated from someone like Keith. “It’s fine, you just need to understand I can handle myself.” You smile and Levi ruffles your hair. “I’m well aware you can handle yourself. I experienced the (y/n) attitude when you first got here, don’t think I forgot.” You chuckle thinking of the hard times you used to give him.

“Oh you loved it, didn’t you? I mean look at us now.”He rolls his eyes at you and you can’t help but let out another laugh. “Yeah yeah, whatever you brat,” he says playfully, “Just avoid Keith till he leaves. I don’t feel like listening to him complain about you, I may use choice words with him myself.” You scan to make sure no ones looking, Mainly Keith, before you smack a kiss on his cheek. His cheeks heat up at the gesture, which you’d never done in public before. “You sound like an old man, I may use some choice words,” you voice deepens as you restate what he had just said.

Before he can say anything your giving him another kiss on the cheek and walking off, “I want to meet some cadets this year, unlike all the times before this.” He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and narrows his eyes at you playfully. You walk off with a smile and wave, getting ready to greet the cadets. This would probably be the only time the new comers heard you speak to them directly.

Levi’s eyes watch you, then they widen when he sees Keith headed straight for you.

Shit, not again.

[godofplumsandthunder]

Twisted Fate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cancer, both Bucky and reader have cancer, Major Character death, brief hospital terms mainly reffering to cancer treatment. References to amputation.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @eurynome827​ 2k celebration. I got a lovely quote of lyrics from Hadestown, which I wanted to do something that was based off of the musical, but I couldn’t figure anything out. Then I had a big anniversary come up and this was came out instead. It’s very angsty, I cried a lot, and well I hope you like it.

The low, steady hum of the fan fills the awkward silence. The psychiatrist, newly assigned to the case, still doesn’t feel comfortable. “Case number 32557038” was widely known in the health care center. The whispers and rumors floated their way down the hall, past the copy machine, filling the office with this chilling tale. Some regarded it as a terrible series of bad luck, others thought it was an act of some benevolent God, pouring his rage on this poor couple. Dr. Breynord, after reading the notes on the file, Breynord knew that this case was perhaps the worst case of bad luck she ever saw in her career, and, maybe it was her stubbornness or naive belief in medicine, but Dr. Breynord was going to help this poor man get the peace he so desperately needs.

“James,” Dr. Breynord’s voice breaks the silence of the office, “I’ve read what my colleagues had to say about your case, but, I’d like you to tell me what has happened if you feel comfortable.”

Shifting in his seat, James sighs, with a small nod of the head, he starts at the beginning.

Bucky Barnes was used to change. Granted, it was other people’s change, but it was still change nonetheless. The poor folks that sat next to him each clinic visit changed, his caretakers changed, it seemed as if the whole world changed around him, while he was stuck in some perpetual hell. Every day dragged out in the same dull, and nauseating feeling, and at times, Bucky felt he was in an endless loop, forsaken by some deity he didn’t believe in. But, for however long Bucky has left in this fallen and cruel world, he’ll remember when you walked in, shattering the miserable purgatory he was banished to, he’ll always remember the day you changed his life.

It happened during his first transfusion session after his surgery. His arm, still wrapped in bandage, IV tubing leading straight to his heart, pumped his body full of liquids, as he waited for the toxic poison to enter his body. He always found it ironic, the “medicine” that was supposed to save his life, that was too dangerous for the nurses to touch with their bare hands, was willingly flushed into his body. Hair loss, mouth sores, and muscle aches were the better side effects. He can’t help but think about what is coming, especially as he sees his nurse, Thor, come over with the freshly made batch of poison [STRIKE THROUGH], chemotherapy as his doctor would want him to call it. Hanging the bag on his IV pole, Thor looks over at Bucky, giving him the “I’m going to go on a rant about something you should care about” look. 

“Now James, we’re getting a new patient today. It’s their first transfusion. They’re going to be sitting in the pod next to you. I swear to the gods, I best not hear another complaint about your attitude.”

“Me? An attitude? No, I think you got me confused with someone else. I’m the brightest little ball of sunshine here!” Bucky can’t help but chuckle. It’s not his fault he wasn’t a “warrior”, blasting “Fight Song” 24/7, as he sips on a kale smoothie with coffee suppositories shoved up his ass. T

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Barnes,” Thor shakes his head as he cleans up his station, “don’t think I won’t throw your bald ass out of here. That cancer sob story, won’t work on me.” 

Bucky goes back to his phone, already feeling the effects of the chemo. No matter how many anti-nausea meds they fed him, Cisplatin always makes him sick. So, he had the right to act like a grumpy old grandpa. While he scrolls through his social media feed, seeing all the accomplishments, brags, and just shit of his friends, Bucky hears your sniffles, as you make your way down to the end of the Oncology clinic, taking a seat next to Bucky. Even if Thor hadn’t given him the heads up, he would have known you were fresh meat. One infusion, his mom asked him how he could tell. It was easy for Bucky, it all had to do with the eyes. A cancer diagnosis shatters you. It kills all hope, light, and goodness that’s in you. You turn completely numb to the world, to the point where your own wailing and sobs feel muted. Bucky saw all of that in your eyes. Behind the puffy, redness, saw the shards of hope, the fear of the unknown. Before you could reach your seat, you stumble, spilling your possessions that you carried all over the floor. Bucky watches quietly as you quickly pick up your items, collapsing into the chair next to him. 

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a hand, only have the one,” he wiggles his stump, and he's met with silence. Talk about a rough crowd, he thinks, his nephews love his stumpy jokes. “So,” Bucky continues, “what are you in for? I’m a sarcoma, in the arm.” You sniffle as you turn your body to look at this new man.

“Leukemia,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper. It takes a real effort to say it out loud because then it makes all of this real.

“That’s good then,” the “sarcoma” man says to you, and Bucky can see the confusion, and pain on your face.

“How is that good? How is cancer good?”

Using his arm, Bucky points around the room, giving you a tour of the room.

“See him, that’s Riley, he has an inoperable brain tumor. That young kid, with the Switch? His name is Peter, his body is chemo resistant. So yeah, leukemia is good. If you haven’t learned it yet, not all cancers are made equal.”

“Oh,” you barely make out. What were you supposed to say to that? 

=====

Much to Bucky’s surprise, he actually enjoyed having your company. Your treatments lined up and so you both got to know each other well. Bucky enjoyed having someone close to his age that understood his problems. And it also didn’t hurt that you had such a great personality, you got Bucky’s dark humor (and it went without saying that you understood it was his way of coping), and you looked great. Not many people can rock a bald head. And Bucky has seen his fair share, and he can say with confidence, you rocked it. Not covering it up with caps, scarves, or wigs. Because why should you hide away? For the first time since his diagnosis, Bucky had a purpose. So, while his immune system allowed him to leave the house, he picked up a bouquet of fake flowers (neutropenia life, am I right?) and a box of chocolates to take with him to the next transfusion. When he got to the clinic, Bucky was a bit worried to see that you weren’t next to him. Instead, there sat Barb, 75 years old with breast cancer. 

“Oh sweetie, are those for me?” Barb looks at the flowers in Bucky’s hand. 

“No!” He snaps, as closes the curtain that surrounds his chair. He hears some huffs and complaints from Barb, but frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. Bucky only has one thing on his mind: you. 

“Are you alright? You’re not here at Club Med” Bucky texts as quickly as his one hand would let him. Dropping his phone, Bucky stares at it all while the nurses prep him. And because of damn, HIPAA, none of the nurses can tell him where you’re at. Minutes turn into hours, and by the time Bucky’s infusion ends, you still haven’t responded to him or shown up at the clinic. 

“Hope you’re okay. Call or text me. I'm worried” Bucky sighs, realizing how much you made his chemo treatments more bearable. How your laugh could make him forget of the poison he had to take, or how the light in your eyes could make him forget, even just for a bit, how much his arm stump was hurting. You were a drug, more potent than any he’s had before, and Bucky was becoming addicted. He’s picking at the hamburger he got for dinner, not having much of an appetite when his phone goes off. Seeing it’s from you, he rushes to answer. 

“Y/N! I… Where were you? I missed you today. I had to sit by Barb and…” The sounds of your cries cut Bucky off. 

“Are you okay?”

“No, Buck. I… Got some bad news today.” 

“Where are you?” He asks. He knows you’re alone, and speaking from experience, you never want to be alone when you get bad news. He knows from experience.

“Buck…” you sigh, “It’s fine. Really.” 

“Please, Y/N, I know what it’s like to be alone after getting this kind of news. Please, let me be there for you.” Breaking further down into tears, you cry at Bucky’s actions, actions of love. 

“I’ll send you my address,” Bucky gathers the flowers and chocolates as he rushes to your apartment, breaking a few traffic laws to get there faster. When he gets there, the image of you, opening the door, eyes swollen from crying breaks his heart. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Bucky sweeps you into his arm, as he closes the door behind, “tell me what’s going on hun.” 

You both sit on the couch, the bag with the flowers and chocolate lay at your feet, as you stay in Bucky’s embrace. 

“I’m… I’m dying Buck!” You manage to say in-between odds. “Dr. Fair... gave me three months to live. There’s nothing else they can do.” You break down in his arms, that last straw finally breaking, as you tell your newfound best friend, the person you were supposed to beat cancer with. Bucky tries his best to remain strong, to be the rock, the foundation you need, but you’re not the only one that is losing a friend. You sit in each other's embrace, as you mourn. You cry for all the missed opportunities, laughs, and memories that won’t be made. 

“What am I going to do,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying. 

Kissing your head, Bucky pulls you in closer, “we, are going to make these three months, the best three months you’ve ever had.”

Bucky lives up to his promise, spending every hour he isn’t in the hospital with you. The time you spent together changed your relationship. Neither had to officially say the words to make your relationship official. It was just you, and Bucky. Holding each other close, as the tempest waged on, trying to beat you into submission. You go on walks in the park, picnics, and one night when you both had the energy, went skinny dipping. Your logic being, what are the cops going to do? Arrest two cancer patients, with one of them being terminal? You threw caution to the wind and simply lived. Lived, breathed, and loved. Things seemed to be perfect until reality hit.

Your body wasn’t keeping up. Your cancer was spreading faster than they predicted. The doctors couldn’t give you an explanation as to why the cancer was spreading so fast. It shouldn’t have been. Soon, home hospice came, to try to make you more comfortable. And like the good partner he was, Bucky spent every minute by your side. That’s why, when you felt the inevitable coming, you felt your body give in to the tiredness of fighting, you grab Bucky’s hand. 

“I love you, James Bucky Barnes,” you weakly say, giving him one last affirmation, as you went to sleep, for one last time. 

As Bucky wakes up from his nap, feeling your cold body, he tries to ruse you back awake. Once he realizes what has happened, the last bit of humanity inside of Bucky snapped. He lets out a blood-curdling scream, as tears stream down his face. He strikes your face, pleas escape his mouth. Pleas to you, to a God he has long stopped believing in. His body shakes, his tears wetting your hair, as he holds you for one last time. 

=====

“Oh James,” Dr. Breynord grabs herself a tissue before handing Bucky the box of tissues. “I truly am so sorry to hear that. I want you to know that I am here to help you get happy again, and to heal.”

Bucky sighs and turns away from the doctor as he wipes his eyes. “You’re just like the rest of them. You didn’t listen to me.” 

Breynord was surprised that this was Bucky’s complaint. The other doctors had warned her that Bucky could be sarcastic, standoff-ish, and even flat-out rude to them. Breynord thought she did a good job listening to his story, what did she miss.

“I… I don’t think I understand what you mean, James.”

Bucky lets out a heartless, empty laugh, “you want me to be happy again. I’m never going to be. Not only do I have to live with the guilt of surviving, when she died, in my arms, but I’ll also never find another soul like hers. We had a connection, you know. It felt like we met before. When I held her in my arm, and her arms would wrap around me, it felt like I had the whole world in my arms. I didn’t need anything else when I had Y/N.” 

“So tell me doc, what’s the point of carrying on?”