#i’m so sad i didn’t pay as much attention to them at first in favour of the mafia and ada but now i’m obsessed. like i love tjem so much

[jounosparticles]

suegiku posting again sorry (i’m not sorry) but this is genuine love to me. they won’t say it but the fact that tetchou put aside saving the world from the vampire pandemic when he could have easily went after bram in favour of attempting to save jouno shows how much he loves him. i really hope we see more on this and that the two share a moment where they talk about it and how much they actually care. i need tetchou to assure jouno that he isn’t a bad person, and that being selected for evil isn’t his true self. the potential for character building here is so good.

asagiri said he wants to focus on their rivalry in the future, i hope this does not make them enemies but instead just work partners that argue sometimes. tetchou is the only one who understands jouno, i really hope they get to have moments where they connect and jouno slowly breaks away from his tough exterior around tetchou. two people who just care for each other and want to help the world.

[yes-divine-ruler]

Bright Star - Peter Maximoff

x gn!reader

Summary: Peter and reader are working on a group assignment together and have a secret crush on one another.

CW: heavy petting, kissing, no gender dominant body parts or pet names or compliments

wc: 1.64k

You weren’t ever too sure about Peter Maximoff. He always seemed like a troubled kid, loud, interruptive, and he never took things seriously. But when he wanted to be, he was kind, and knew the answer to almost everything in your shared classes. So when you were partnered up with him for your final group assignment for Literature, you didn’t know what to expect, or how to feel. At first you thought he might try to run the shop by not letting you contribute any of your ideas to the analysis paper. But as time went on, and you got to know each-other better, you found out that he was deeply misunderstood. And actually really cute and charming.

“Peter? Will you read that to me again?” You sat cross legged on the carpeted floor of Peter’s basement, chewing on the end of your click pen. Peter was too busy playing table tennis with himself to notice you’d called out to him. Dropping the pencil down on your notebook, you let out a frustrated sigh, standing to get his attention.

“Peter!”

Startled, he stopped short, turning towards you with his eyes wide in surprise.

“Yeah? You alright?” He asked, putting down the paddle and appearing in front of you.

“Yes Peter, I just wanted to get this part done,” you explained, rolling your eyes in annoyance. Peter was always thinking of the next fun thing to do after working on your project got boring, and that left you quite often pleading with him to pay attention.

“Yeah I know, I’m sorry,” he lets out a small sigh, running a hand through his silver hair before you both sat back on the ground.

“What will it take for you to work on this with me for an hour? Do we have to make a deal?” You joke with a light chuckle. Peter jumped at the opportunity to compromise, knowing that he could work if he really wanted to, and that the deal would then be in his favour.

“A deal hey?” He asks, resting his chin in his hands, looking up at you with sparkling eyes.

“Yes, whatever you want for 1 hour of your precious time,” you scoff, picking up your pen again to work. As a person without a mutation, you knew you’d never fully understand him, and it was best to just be patient. It was your final year, and the final assignment you ever had to do. The end was in sight, meaning you wouldn’t have to deal with him for much longer - you struggled to admit to yourself that it would actually make you sad not hanging out with Peter almost every day after school.

“I’m not gonna tell you until the hour is up,” Peter teases, retrieving the book for your paper from the couch and opening it to a dog-eared page.

“Okay read it again for me, and this time slowly,” you emphasise on the word “slowly”, watching him let out a small laugh, shifting on the floor to get comfortable.

“Okay, ready?”

“Yes, Peter.”

“Okay,” Peter takes a deep breath before beginning the poem, “Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art— Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,” he looks up at you, before continuing.

“And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,” Peter reads clearly, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to decipher the words. You’re skimming over your notes, making sure all of them make sense. Peter memorises the poem in an instant, wanting rather to watch you work than have his eyes glued to the book.

“The moving waters at their priestlike task, Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,” Peter rests his hands in his lap, noticing the way your lips part and your tongue juts out only slightly when you concentrate. He notices you fiddling with the edge of your notebook, your fingertips grazing the spiral as it winds to bound the book. He notices how effortlessly pretty you are, and how committed you’ve been to this assignment. He thought it was so funny that you were so oblivious to his blatant staring. He suddenly lets out the breath he didn’t notice he was holding in.

“Peter?” You ask, the same annoyance bubbling inside you from when he didn’t pay attention before.

“Right,” Peter shakes his head from his thoughts and returns to reciting the poem, “Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask, Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—”

You hadn’t noticed you’d leaned slightly into Peter, your shoulders brushing. Peter suddenly feels warm, his shoulder tingling where you were touching him. His heartbeat hammered in his ears as he licked his lips, readying himself to read the next part.

“No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,” he thought of how cunning his side of the deal was, and how much more tempting it got the longer you touched him. It was a gamble, but it was one he was willing to take.

Peter rested his hand on his thigh, inching his fingers closer to your joined knees.

“To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,”

You look up at Peter, finally noticing how close the two of you had gotten, but doing nothing about the close proximity. Something felt different, the air was harder to breathe, and your stomach felt like it was housed by a million butterflies. His eyes shun as they looked into yours, your faces inching closer and closer.

“And so live ever—or else swoon to death.”

When silence filled the room, accompanied by the small pants of your breathing, you pulled your body away, sitting up straighter and looking more alert.

“Good reading Peter,” you let out a small cough to cover the awkwardness that had just washed over you. Fuck, you were so close to kissing him, and you didn’t know why. Maybe it was because the poem was so romantic, and you were sitting so close - it just felt like the right thing to do. You scowled at yourself for being so cliche, and put down your notebook. Peter bit his lip in a smile as your cheeks blushed red because he knew you’d felt that too.

“Okay, deal time?”

You know you asked for an hour, but a break right now didn’t seem so bad.

“Okay,” you say, as he scoots his bottom across the floor to face you.

“One kiss,” he says finally, your jaw swinging open in shock. A kiss? Was he serious? Did you hear that right?

“Peter, a kiss?” You repeat, confused. You hadn’t read that Peter felt anything for you, the same way you hid having a big fat crush on him by being sort of mean.

“Can be just on the cheek?” He says with a small, hopeful smile, tapping his cheek with his forefinger.

Your lips form a tight straight line as you contemplate your choices. Give up the tough guy act now and cave to your feelings, or don’t. It was like Peter was giving you the perfect opportunity to do what you always thought of doing.

“Okay, only one,” you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a curt nod.

“Of course, I mean, only if you want to,” he gives you the option, but his eyes are pleading with you to go through with it.

You lean forward, securing a small kiss on his cheek, almost too close to the corner of his mouth as it curled into a small smile. Your lips linger there for a moment, before you pull away, just slightly, your face still so close to Peter’s. You contemplate whether you should just go for it, regardless of whether your inexperience reveals itself, since after all he was the one that suggested it,. But before you could decide what you wanted to do, Peter does it for you, connecting your lips in a soft, passionate kiss.

It takes you aback, but you compose yourself quickly, cupping his cheeks in your hands, as his secure to your hips. He pulls you closer, until you’re practically in his lap, straddling his hips with your thighs. His tongue prods at your lower lip, and without another thought, you open your mouth, letting his tongue explore where no one else has. The feeling was magical, and after all those nights you lay awake thinking of this moment, it finally came in full force.

You had to pull away with a gasp when Peter’s hand started to cup your bare ass under your shorts, your hands resting comfortably on his shoulders as you stared at each other.

“Fuck I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have-”

“No! It’s fine, I just, I’ve never been that like- intimate with someone before,” you let out a nervous laugh, wanting so badly to crawl into a hole and die from your confession. Peter only lets out a small laugh, the back of his hand coming up to caress your cheek.

“It’s fine- I’m not super experienced either,” he reveals, breaking eye contact for a second to look down, “but I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Really?” You ask him, your voice only just louder than a whisper.

“Yeah! I mean- you’re so smart and pretty, and we’ve spent a lot of time together, I’ve enjoyed getting to know you,” he blushes bright red and it’s your turn to reassure him.

“I’ve felt the same way,” you reply, pulling Peter in for a hug, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He holds you close, before you sit back down on the floor across from him.

“So… you think I’m pretty?” He asks, shooting you a cheeky wink. You roll your eyes again, letting out a small laugh - Peter always knew how to break the ice.

“Yeah I guess you’re pretty too.”

[theflowergothic]

even tho I would absolutely support Max pulling a Kvyat x2, I don't think he will ever leave his baby. In my opinion, he had wanted to break up with Kelly many times, but the thought of P has stopped him. Now that he is having _his_ baby (which is kinda sad to see it this way) he would never leave the relationship, especially based on what he went through as a child. // well p obviously didn’t react in favour of them having a baby. She got a whole kitten as damage control. She is clinging to max worse now than ever. Watch her hitting, biting, in general hurting the new baby at home. Or watch out for animal cruelty. She already doesn’t get enough attention from her parents. Max doesn’t see it as his role to parent his gfs daughter. Remember she posted the whole “I’m a single mother and I’m suffering so bad” when p started school. Max didn’t attend Julia’s wedding or the birthday of p. And he had the time for both. It was during his break. And Kelly never hesitated to throw ps birthday party early so max could attend. So why not 3 days later? I think max will realise a lot of how much of a terrible parent she is when he sees his dna taken care of by Nannie’s or him only. Should p intend to harm his baby he will reevaluate his and his baby’s situation. P is severely neglected by her mother and doesn’t get close to enough attention at home. She is not civilised enough with children. She doesn’t know how to behave. She will react extremely to another person being brought into her home that she runs as she has never heard no, and if she has heard the word no she throws a tantrum and in the end got what she originally wanted and getting all the attention. P will be absolutely forgotten by both max and Kelly. Max has made it clear that he will pay more attention to his dna the dna part is a direct quote from him “as it’s always different when it’s your dna”. Kelly hasn’t disciplined her daughter once in the 5 years she has been alive. She can’t start now. Children have already learned their behaviour. And disciplining a child is serious work. You have to start immediately. Starting at 5/6 years old only? Impossible. Kelly is too lazy for that and she won’t allow Daniil around her daughter as she won’t get his money without p in her care. And max will start to question her if Kelly starts to ignore p or when p will be forced upon Daniil. Max saw how hurt his sister was for rarely seeing her father. He knows how it feels to miss one of his parents himself. He knows what it’s like when your parent gives up on you. Or how a child sees this situation: when a parent loses interest in you and doesn’t want to see you again. That you are unworthy of love from that parent.

The day Kelly starts pushing her first child away or when that first child who is not maxs child will hurt his dna, is the day he will break up with her and will start the process of sole custody. Because his dna will not go through the same things he did as a child. And sole custody of a loving and caring parent is a better option than a parent who throws you away when they get a shiny new toy.

Or maybe we all have a wrong opinion of max and his believes and he won’t care that p is going to be a nobody in his house, that the mother of his child is neglectful to his dna and only cares about the size of her partners wallet 🤷🏼‍♀️

It's gonna be a rude awakening for Max.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Merlin accidentally becomes Legolas/Katniss/Merida… you know the type;

He may be shitty at sword fighting, but Merlin begins to use a traditional bow and arrow and… actually becomes very good at it??

I imagine the first time he does it, it’s a complete fluke.

The five knights, The King, and Merlin are on their way back from yet another (frankly, ridiculous) quest.

They have been, of course, ambushed by a group of bandits, twenty to their six (six plus Merlin, though no one bar Lancelot knows about his magic, so he isn’t counted as a fighter). Though the knights outweigh them in skill, their sheer numbers makes it a… challenging, fight (meaning that they are winning, but far too slowly for their liking, and no one wants to admit it).

Now normally, Merlin hides behind a tree or in a ditch, and performs his spells quietly without being noticed, slowly helping and speeding up the fight. Except this time, the Gang was in the middle of a barren, open field, the bandits had disguised themselves with magic until the moment they attacked, and Merlin was right in the middle of all the action.

Everyone worried for his safety. There was nowhere for him to hide here, so they had to keep an eye on him, lest he get hurt (and Arthur sulked, or kicked off, depending on how badly he was hurt).

With nowhere to hide (and no branches to drop, or roots to trip people with), and one of the knights throwing a glance his way every ten seconds, he couldn’t use his magic.

He was currently on his hands and knees, Leon directly in front of him, Percival to his left, holding off four attackers between them (Merlin would marvel at how impressive that was if he weren’t otherwise preoccupied).

He keeps trying to get to Arthur, crawling between legs and over the groaning, injured bodies of bandits (he made a point to land sharp elbows and harsh knees into the more… sensitive areas), but with everyone moving around so rapidly, and the vicious swinging of swords and axes and maces inches above his head, he kept getting side-tracked and blocked and almost knocked out.

With a frustrated huff, he notices yet another bandit rounding on The King. Said huff turns into a pained gasp when he realises that Arthur hasn’t seen him yet.

The bandit raises his weapon in the air, seconds from bringing it down on Arthur’s back, but Leon is right there, and there are no branches to drop on him, and Arthur still hasn’t noticed!

The noise is too loud, grunts and yells and clashes of metal drowning out any sort of warning yell that Merlin could throw Arthur’s way, and he scrabbles around on the floor desperately; hands raking through sharp grass and over bloodied bodies as he stares in horror at the triumphant smirk on the future-King-killer’s face.

Time seems to slow (no magic, just adrenaline) as Merlin’s hands find purchase on a smooth, curved piece of wood. He picks it up without looking, at first intending to throw whatever it is as hard as he can in the bandits direction, before something (magic, instincts, periphery vision, who knows) tells him to look down.

He obeys, and widens his eyes as he sees the longbow gripped tightly in his right hand, and a stray arrow on the floor next to his left.

Merlin is no expert, only having actually hunted once or twice back home in Ealdor, when he was younger, but that was just enough knowledge for him to know roughly how to notch the arrow and fire. He pulls the two up quickly, a plan formulating in his head:

Step 1) Notch arrow.

Step 2) Close eyes.

Step 3) Magic? Hope?

Step 4) Come up with some sort of lie that explains how he managed to make the shot from sixty yards away, through a crowd.

Thankfully, it would appear that Merlin’s bad luck has given him a rest today; the first three steps go off without a hitch (the fourth will come a little later, when the battle is over), but he doesn’t have time to congratulate himself before he’s thrown into the fray, the bandits now obviously seeing him as some sort of threat.

Arthur finally defeats his own attackers, looking behind him in shock to see his unknown enemy lying on the floor, gurgling up blood and grasping weakly at the arrow through his neck. His head whips to the side, trying to find whoever had made the shot; his bewildered gaze meets Merlin’s for only a second before the servant is dragged to his feet, and promptly punched in the face.

He stumbles back and can just about hear Leon yell something from beside him but he pays it no mind, righting his balance once again and swinging his arm back, before bringing it down harshly on his newest attackers head. The resounding crack echoes over the field as the wood of the longbow splits in two on the bandit’s skull, and he drops like a sack of potatoes.

The fight doesn’t last much longer, each knight taking advantage of their enemies' fatigue, and Merlin using his now broken longbow to whack them in the shins or trip them up when they weren’t paying attention.

He was sad to see it broken, but two of his closest friends literally owned a blacksmith's, and he had easy access to the Castle’s armoury; he could get a hold of another one easily enough, as long as he survived the journey back home.

The battle finally came to a close. Everyone was exhausted, and each of them was sporting more than one hefty bruise, but they were all alive and there were no serious injuries, so they could be grateful for that. After Arthur had counted his men, and generally taken stock of things, he traipsed tiredly over to Merlin, who had abandoned his broken bow in favour of cleaning a still weeping cut on Elyan’s temple.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Merlin.”

The servant ignores him at first, biting his lip in concentration as he carefully wipes the grime away from the wound. It was small, so an infection wouldn’t be too worrying, but it wouldn’t be comfortable and would make the scarring worse, so best to avoid it if at all possible. He hums in satisfaction as he leans back on his heels, Elyan gives him a grateful smile, and Merlin finally throws a glance Arthur’s way, before focusing back on threading the needle in his hands; it would only need two or three stitches, thankfully:

“Hmm. I'm not fond of hunting, but we had to for food back in Ealdor. Except we didn’t have fancy crossbows or hunting dogs, so we had to make do with hand-whittled longbows.”

Arthur nods, frowning slightly:

“Still, if I’d known you were that good, I would’ve demanded you had a bow of your own; that way us lot wouldn’t have to spend so much time making sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

Merlin smirked and quirked an eyebrow, but doesn’t look away from Elyan’s stitches, whispering an apology at the man’s wince before he speaks slowly, concentrating:

“Careful Sire, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

Elyan snorts out a laugh, but Merlin tuts and lightly slaps his leg disapprovingly, and he stills again. Arthur rolls his eyes with a huff:

“As if. Hurry up, I want to get moving as soon as possible.”

~

Arthur wasn’t the only one that noticed Merlin’s outstanding shot, and over the course of the next few day’s journey home, he received a multitude of compliments from the other knights. 

Including an hour long excited infodump about the history and use of longbows from Leon, which Merlin eagerly hung onto every word of, a fond smile on his face (Leon was a noble, and had it practically beaten into him to not ramble, so Merlin always did his best not to discourage the man. That, and the fact that it was actually very interesting, and useful, if he were to keep up this charade that he was an expert marksman).

When Merlin finally had a moment alone with Lancelot, a few days after they had gotten back, he burst:

“Please please tell me you know how to use a longbow??”

Lancelot raises his eyebrow from where he was sat on the bed in Merlin’s room. Merlin was staring at him with unconcealed desperation, and the knight chuckled as he answered:

“Why? It’s not like you need any more training, that was a cracking shot.”

Merlin huffed loudly, running his hands through his hair as he looked back at the knight:

“I used magic!! I closed my eyes so no one would see and I guided the arrow with magic! Now everyone thinks I’m some master marksman! This is bad. What if next time I can’t use magic, or what if someone notices that I have my eyes closed when I fire?”

Lancelot clamps a hand over his mouth in a poor attempt to stop himself from giggling, but he gives up quickly, bursting into laughter at the younger man’s panic. Said younger man fumes, sputtering as he picks up one of the knight’s discarded boots and throws it at him:

“It’s not funny, Lance! I’m being serious, this is an actual issue!”

Lancelot calms himself, rubbing the mirth from his eyes as he takes a deep breath:

“Ok ok, sorry. Yes, I can teach you to use a longbow properly. Have you ever actually used one before, or was the hunting thing a cover?”

The red fades from Merlin’s face slightly as he realises the other man is intending to help him, his panic lessening:

“Sort of. Yeah, I went hunting with a bow a couple times, but not enough to be that good at it.”

Lancelot sighs fondly and nods his head:

“Well, that’s a start at least. Come on, I’ve not got patrol until after dinner, and Arthur thinks you’re busy helping Gaius, so we’ve got a few hours.”

~

So I imagine that’s how it goes for a while.

After their last big adventure, Arthur was reluctant to head out as a group again, wanting to give everyone time to recuperate and get back into the swing of things.

Merlin’s skills with a bow were bought up constantly by everyone, news had even reached Gwen (who gave him a proud smile and a cute little dance to congratulate him) and Gaius (who raised an eyebrow, and had much better skill than Lancelot at holding in his laughter). 

Gwaine, Elyan, and even Percival were desperate to set up targets and watch him shoot shit (their words), Leon wanted to talk about the specifics of technique and crafting, and Arthur... well. Arthur sounded like he was taking the piss, but there was something else in his tone that Merlin couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

Affection? Pride?

Probably not, probably jealousy and annoyance that Merlin is so effortlessly good at something that Arthur himself was average at at best.

Merlin manages to avoid it for a while, showing his “skills” off, but he and Lancelot are running out of excuses, and Arthur is starting to accuse him of being a fake who got lucky. Normally, things like that didn’t bother Merlin, and technically Arthur wasn’t wrong... he had got lucky, and cheated with magic, but that wasn’t the point. It was nice for Merlin, to be good at something, really good.

He was good at plenty of other things. Magic for starters, though not even Lancelot knew the full extent of his power in that area. But he cooked well (shown by the fact that the knights always scoffed the lot), he was a good physician (shown by the fact that the knights trusted him just as much as Gaius when it came to treating injuries and sickness), and he was a BRILLIANT servant, if he did say so himself.

But he never got any actual praise for that. Merlin hated to think badly of the knights, his friends, but they only complained when Merlin wasn’t there, never praised him when he was. Well, apart from Lancelot. And that had just started a bunch of rumours that they were... uh... boinking. 

(False. Anyone with more than two braincells could see that Sir Lancelot was head over heals in love with the newly-promoted Housekeeper, Guinevere, and that The King’s Manservant had an affinity for certain a blond prat-King.)

ANYWAY

It was nice for Merlin to have a skill that others thought worth complimenting, and with Lancelot monitoring his practice sessions, correcting any mistakes and offering congratulations whenever he did well, he hoped it wouldn’t be too long before he no longer had to come up with excuses.

Luckily, Merlin picked it up very quickly. 

Despite being clumsy by nature (though Lancelot is starting to suspect more and more that it’s all for show), the dark haired servant can consistently hit bullseyes from fifty yards within a month. The further away from the target he got, the less astounding his aim was, but that was to be expected, and another month later he could successfully hit a moving target from seventy feet.

A training session, around three months after he started properly practicing, he finally “gave in” to Gwaine’s begging. Lancelot helped him set up a bunch of targets, and fetched a bag of apples to throw.

Merlin put on quite the show, grinning at the uproarious applause he got from the knights when he hit every single bullseye, and every single thrown target. Thankfully the knowing, proud smiles between the servant and Sir Lancelot went unnoticed, and even Arthur gave him a clap on the back and an impressed nod.

~

The first time Merlin met the knights in the courtyard to find Leon holding a longbow and quiver of arrows out to him, he panicked slightly, but one reassuring smile from Lancelot boosted his confidence, and he took them with a quiet thank you.

(After the fifth time, Arthur huffed, and told him to just keep them. He was the only one that regularly signed them out of the armoury anyway, so it would just be easier if he just took possession of them.)

It settled everyone’s stomachs, knowing that not only did the group have a master marksmen, hiding in the trees and taking out enemies that they didn’t see coming, but that Merlin personally now had more than his frankly horrifying (or... horrifying as far as they were concerned) stealth skills to keep him safe.

And that (a master marksmen in the trees) is exactly what happened. 

In the early days, it involved a lot of bruises; Merlin could fire well, but firing and balancing at the same time? Took some getting used to, and involved a lot of falling out of trees at inopportune times.

The knights, Gwaine and Arthur especially, laughed endlessly at that, but quickly stopped after a particularly tired and irate and bruised Merlin fired an arrow so close by Gwaine’s crotch, that it stuck his trousers fast into the tree just behind him.

At first, it was meant to be just as back-up; Merlin was no knight. He still refused to wear armour, and Arthur didn’t want his manservant to make himself a target... at least that was his excuse.

Really, it was because (as far as Arthur was aware) Merlin had never deliberately killed before. Even now, years into his Kingship, and even longer into his knighthood, Arthur hated killing; it made him sick, and took a lot of practice at compartmentalization before it no longer bothered him as much.

Merlin was his manservant, his (best) friend, the love of his life (secretly). He was not a warrior, he was not meant to kill, he was meant to be protected from that.

But alas, Merlin did not get the memo, and the first patrol he went on with his bow and quiver slung over his shoulder, he killed at least five bandits.

After the fight, it was Leon who approached him first, a concerned look on his face despite Merlin’s nonchalant expression as he checked over the string for wear and tear:

“Are you feeling alright, Merlin? You got a few good shots in there, you’re not feeling sick?”

Merlin looked up at the hand on his shoulder and the soft words, a confused look on his face:

“Why would being good make me feel sick?”

Leon tilts his head in sympathy, which just makes Merlin even more confused:

“The man you killed the other month was spur of the moment, protecting your King. But you... you killed a fair few men today, Merlin. I know that can be incredibly difficult at first, I just wanted to check in.”

The others had finally walked over to join them; Percival, Elyan, Gwaine, and Arthur looking equally concerned, whilst Lancelot hid his proud smile. Merlin just raised an eyebrow at them:

“You seem to be under the impression that I’ve never killed anyone before?”

Everyone (bar Lancelot) looks taken aback at that, and Arthur frowns whilst Leon drops his hand in shock. The King speaks slowly:

“Merlin, are you telling us you’ve killed people before?”

The manservant clenches his jaw at that and looks back down at his bow, resuming his checking of the string and its knots. He speaks lowly, and the knights can tell it’s not a topic he’s fond of:

“Hmm. It’s a tough world, Sire. I’ve done what I had to, to keep myself and the people I care about safe.”

At his dark reply, conversation stopped, and didn’t resume for the rest of the day as everyone contemplated Merlin’s words.

That is, until he was the first one to successfully catch dinner later that evening. At which he got an incredulous look from Arthur when he made it back to camp with his half of the patrol:

“I thought you despised hunting??”

Merlin didn’t look up from the hares he was skinning, and the rest of the knights tuned in, curious:

“No. I hate hunting for sport; it shows hubris and cruelty. Hunting for food is not only necessary and natural, but humbling, if you do it right and honour every part of the creature.”

Arthur, ever the eloquent one, stared at him blankly, and said, rather dumbly:

“...What?”

Merlin huffed, finally looking up:

“Going after helpless animals on horseback with crossbows and hunting dogs is like giving yourself a huge pat on the back for winning a tournament against an unarmoured, unarmed, unconscious opponent, and then calling yourself strong and brave for daring to fight in the first place. It’s an egotistical act of violence for no other reason than cruelty for the sake of cruelty.-”

The knights looks on him with shock, Percival and Leon at least having the decency to look a little ashamed. Merlin looks back down to the hares, and everyone notices the careful way he cuts at the fur:

“I’ve taken these lives to feed us as a necessity. The meat will be eaten, but that isn’t all. I’ll take the bones home for Gaius, the marrow is useful in a lot of medicine. The fur can be repurposed for winter gloves or socks. The organs and other bits that we won’t eat: I’ll take for the pigs in the farms, or the dogs up at the castle. In using every part of them we are... honouring them, in a way. As a thank-you for their... sacrifice.”

Arthur looks a little dumbfounded. As royalty, he of course had never really considered the waste that comes about with hunting, but Merlin, a farm-boy from a rural village who barely scraped by every winter? Of course he saw a deeper meaning in hunting. He would have to.

Elyan is the first to break the silence:

“You almost sound religious, Merlin.”

Merlin looks up at him, a strained smile on his face. As magic incarnate, he has a particularly strong, temperamental relationship with nature and her creatures, a bond that some might call faith. To be wasteful or cruel in any way hurts him in more ways than one:

“Not really, I just have respect for nature, is all.”

No one mentions the thinly-veiled insult, but everyone creeps closer, wanting to see the way he disassembles the creatures for future reference.

~

It’s been eight months since that first, perfect shot.

Merlin’s skills with a longbow had become a normal, expected part of The Gang’s experiences, but the knights never stopped praising and thanking him when he saved their lives (something that Merlin still hadn’t quite gotten used), and The King had apparently not stopped thinking about it for barely more than a second. 

Yule was approaching quickly: Merlin, Gwen, and the Steward being constantly busy with preparations in the castle, the knights being run off their feet escorting emergency aid to the border villages for the harsh winter, and Arthur himself having every minute of the day taken up with speech writing, invite sending, and his other general King-during-Yule duties.

That however, was all to be expected, and of course did nothing to keep Arthur and Merlin from their annual traditions.

It wasn’t official, it wasn’t even spoken of, but the last evening of Yule, the night before the new year, the two of them always spent together.

The last feast of the year would finish, Arthur would stay to see his guests off, thank the staff for all of their hard work, and finally retire to his chambers, his tired manservant barely a hair’s breadth behind him. They would sit in front of the lit hearth (in comfy chairs that only they used), work their way through a jug or two of wine, exchange small gifts, and fall asleep in front of the fire. Their hands, dangling over the side of their chairs, seem to be creeping closer and closer with each passing year; though have yet to become entangled by morning.

This year was somehow no different, and very different, at the same time.

The King and his Manservant settled in their chairs, tired and already a little more than tipsy from the wine drunk during the feast. Arthur looked up at Merlin, the fond smile dropping from his face when he sees the other man’s features pulled into a contemplative frown:

“What’s on your mind, Merls? I don’t think I’ve seen you this serious since the start of the celebrations.”

Merlin looked up at him suddenly, his eyes wide, but he smiles and shakes his head:

“Nothing, nothing. Just thinking is all.”

Normally, Arthur would raise an eyebrow and let a scathing tease on the state of Merlin’s intelligence fall from his lips, but not tonight. This is the only night of the year that The King allows himself to entertain the idea that perhaps he and Merlin were more than friends, or at least could be. So instead he resumes his smiling, and looks back to the fire, taking another sip of his wine before responding softly:

“What about?”

Merlin hums, copying Arthur’s wine-sipping, before taking a deep breath:

“The future, mostly. You, me, Camelot. Secrets and truths, and when one might turn into the other. Soon, I think... yeah. Soon.”

Arthur huffs slightly in amusement. He knows that Merlin hides a great deal of himself, but he always becomes more cryptic after a few glasses of wine, like he desperately wants to say something and doesn’t have the power to stop himself from hinting at whatever it may be.

He asks his next question good-naturedly, a smile sweetened by wine gracing his face:

“The hell does that mean?”

Merlin lets out a short laugh, looking up at the other man:

“Oh, you know. Thinking about spilling all my deepest darkest secrets to you, at some point soon.”

Arthur snorts, saying, only for the sake of keeping up the charade they’ve built:

“You don’t have any secrets, Merlin. Certainly not any that are deep or dark.”

Once, Arthur would have believed that. Then, when he stopped believing it, he was angry about it, and now? Now, he finds he doesn’t mind so much. He is confident, he has faith, in both himself and in Merlin. He knows that those secrets are there, and Merlin knows that he knows, but that’s ok. Nothing either of them could reveal would tear them apart, at least not for long, so Arthur was happy to wait until Merlin was happy to share.

Merlin chuckled at Arthur’s response, shaking his head slightly before reaching down and picking up a small wrapped parcel that he’d stowed away before the feast:

“Come on, I’m a little nervous about your gift this year, so let’s get it over and done with.”

Arthur nodded, accepting the change in subject, and set his wine down so he could pick up the (much bigger) parcel by his own chair.

Merlin raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. After the first gift-exchange happened, Merlin had put his foot down and made Arthur swear to not go overboard on the expense side of things. Arthur may have been a prince, and now a King, but Merlin was still just a servant/physician; he could hardly afford anything worthy of a King. 

He had a feeling that Arthur might’ve broken his word this year, but where Arthur had likely gone overboard with expense, Merlin had definitely gone overboard with sentimentality.

They swapped parcels, Merlin placing the large, heavy box carefully at his feet as he gestured Arthur to open his first. Arthur got to it, tearing the paper off without a second of hesitation, and Merlin allowed himself to smile fondly at the child-like excitement on the blonde’s face.

Arthur’s brow creased as he dropped the paper to the floor, stroking soft fingers over the worn leather of an old, well-loved book. Merlin took deep, fortifying breaths as Arthur carefully opened the first few pages, butterflies in his stomach as Arthur’s eyes wandered the yellowed paper in curiosity.

The King looked up at him, amused confusion on his face as he asked:

“Is this yours? I didn’t know you could draw, Merlin.”

Merlin gulped, and shook his head as memories of the exquisite sketches filled his mind; detail-perfect renditions of the castle, the town square, waterfalls and knights in action and people that Merlin didn’t recognise (for the most part. Arthur evidently hadn’t gotten to any of the pages with young Uther on them).

“No, not mine. This one requires a little explanation-”

Arthur nodded, carefully closing the book and holding it protectively in his lap as he gave Merlin his undivided attention:

“-I mentioned off-handedly to Leon a few months ago that I thought the lack of... of paintings of the late Queen in the castle was odd.-”

Arthur gulped at the mention of his mother, but nodded with a small smile when Merlin paused:

“-He said that when she passed, The King had everything to do with her moved to the vaults. He couldn’t force himself to destroy any of it, but looking at it, day in and day out, was too painful. We found the keys, with the help of Geoffrey, and went down to have a look, see what we could find. We didn’t tell you about it because we didn’t want to disappoint you, in case we couldn’t find anything.-”

Merlin once again looked a little nervous at this, and reached a hand out towards Arthur. When the man didn’t flinch away (if anything, he leaned into it), he moved to grip his shoulder blade, running his thumb over the exposed skin at the base of The King’s neck.

“-We found... a lot. Old clothes and paintings mainly, some jewellery. But then I found that;-”

He nodded at the book in Arthur’s lap, and tightened his grip on his shoulder. Merlin spoke his next words so quietly that Arthur almost doesn’t hear him, a soft smile on his face:

“-your mother was quite the artist, Arthur. I knew you had to have it.”

Arthur gasped softly, his eyes widening as he looked down at the book:

“You... you think my mother drew these?”

Merlin smiled at him, moving his hand to squeeze Arthur’s wrist slightly, before dropping it entirely:

“Check the back page.”

Arthur took a deep breath before doing what Merlin said, handling the book with even more care than he had before now that he knows who it belonged to. He turned to the very last page, to see an inscription written in beautiful cursive. Merlin recited it aloud, having memorised the words weeks ago:

“My dearest son, my silly sketches are able to hold only a fraction of our Kingdom’s beauty. I know one day that you will see what I see, treasure it just as much, and make it your own. You have my support, forever and always, your loving Mother.”

Arthur bites his lip harshly, lifting the book to press his forehead against the words as he shuts his eyes tightly, though that does nothing to stop the tears. Merlin replaces his hand on The King’s shoulder as the man shakes. He sniffles slightly, putting the book back in his lap, though keeping his hands wrapped around it securely, as he looks to Merlin:

“Merlin, I... I don’t even know what to say. This is... amazing. I... Thank you.”

Merlin smiles, shaking his head slightly:

“Technically, it wasn’t even mine to give, it’s always been yours. But I thought it might make a nice surprise. There’s plenty of other stuff down there, I’ll show you in the morning.”

Arthur nods his head, wiping his tears as he carefully places the book on his side table and gestures to the box at Merlin’s feet. He was itching to scour through the book, dedicating every single line to memory, but whilst Merlin had been nervous about Arthur’s gift, Arthur was buzzing about Merlin’s, and he was desperate to see the man’s reaction.

Merlin huffs out a laugh, but picks the box up, noting once again how heavy it is. He sets about removing the paper, much calmer and more methodical than Arthur had been, with his face pinched in concentration.

He frowns in curiosity as he sets eyes on the wooden box. It had a hinged lid, and a logo that he’s certain he recognises burned like a brand into the corner. He can feel Arthur bouncing in his chair slightly, and looks up at him in amusement, laughing once again when he nods excitedly back down at the box.

He lifts the lid, and takes in a shocked breath.

Inside was a beautifully crafted long bow; the wood smooth and varnished and carved, and a leather quiver. The patterns embossed in the leather and carved in to the metal at the base, match those carved into the wood of the bow, and Merlin traces soft fingers over the intricate swirls, stopping with a teary smile at the Pendragon crest, carved just next to a Merlin bird.

He lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding as he looks up at the excited King:

“Arthur this is beautiful. Gods I almost don’t want to touch it, I feel like it should be on display behind glass.”

Arthur lets out a laugh, obviously pleased with Merlin’s reaction:

“Nope. It will be going with you every time you leave the city, and considering how much trouble we always seem to attract, I have no doubt that it will see a lot of use.”

Merlin laughs, closing the lid carefully and setting the box back on the floor, before launching himself bodily at Arthur. The blonde laughs, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s middle with no hesitation as the other man mutters endless thank-yous in his ear.

The servant finally pulls back, settling in his own chair again, and the two of them hope that the other puts the flush on their face down to the wine, and nothing else. They look to each other with wide grins on their faces, and Arthur breaks the stare first, taking another gulp of his wine before laughing jovially and speaking:

“Well. Here’s to an amazing year, and hopefully an even better one, starting in a few minutes.”

Merlin nods, lifting his own goblet to tap it against Arthur’s:

“Here’s to the past, that guides us-”

He gestures to the book on Arthur’s table:

“-and the future, that calls to us.”

He gestures to his new bow, and they both finish their wine off, a healthy flush to their cheeks and fond smiles on their faces.

They fall asleep in their respective chairs, the same as every year. 

In the morning, they wake with pounding headaches, a promise of a golden future, and hands intertwined.

~

THE END!!

We love a cutesy/hopeful ending😌

Like always lads, you wanna write it out in full, go for it, credit and tag me✌️

Head over to This List to see what I’m working on next, and cast your vote!

[fivelakesinwriting]

Fire Pit (JJ Maybank)

Author's Notes: JJ MAYBANK'S FRIENDS ARE COCKBLOCKS. JJ just wanted to be alone with his girl.

Warnings: Drinking, swearing, sexual innuendos - sexual references (JJ gets his hands on her for a little bit. so maybe a lil' smutty...)

Requested? NOPE, but OBX requests are open.

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

JJ Maybank had invited her to a fire on the beach in the hopes of getting her alone. When the Pogues caught wind of a fire on the beach, they were all in.

So, there he sat. Across the fire from the object of his affection watching as Pope chatted her ear off about some class he was taking, or some book he was reading. JJ wasn't paying attention. He could only think about how she looked in his sweater and those tiny shorts.

This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go.

JJ wanted to bring her down to the beach, light a fire, maybe the two of them would pass a bottle of wine back of forth and get a little drunk. After that, he didn't care. Maybe they would have sex on the beach. Sure, that might have been his endgame. But, if they just ended up on the beach getting drunk and talking, he was fine with that. He just wanted to be with her.

"If you keep frowning like that, your face is going to stay that way." Kiara stated as she sat down next to JJ and handed him a beer.

"I'm not frowning." JJ replied as he took the beer from her, then gently rubbed the bridge of his nose to erase his frown line.

"You are, because we crashed your date." Kiara grinned as she sipped at her beer, her eyes flickered from JJ to the girl across the fire.

JJ grunted in response as he took a large swig of his beer then, against his better judgement, frowned again. Kiara gave her friend a pat on the back before she got up from beside and made her way around the fire pit to where the girl sat, still chatting with Pope.

JJ watched Kie bend over a little to whisper in her ear, their eyes meeting across the flames. She stood up, his sweater like a dress on her. She made her way around the fire and over to JJ, taking up space on his lap.

"Are you sad, JJ?" She smiled as she sat on his lap, an arm around his neck.

"It was supposed to be just the two of us." JJ muttered while he pressed his forehead to the side of her face.

"You aren't having fun?" She laughed as her free hand played with the soft hair at the back of his head.

"Not the fun I intended on having tonight." JJ grumbled with a swig of his beer, finishing it. He crunched the can, then dropped it to his feet before he placed his hand on her bare thigh.

"JJ." She scoffed as she bumped his chest with her shoulder before she brought her own drink back up to her lips.

JJ wanted to kiss her so badly, but he knew that if he started he might like the taste of alcohol on her tongue too much to stop. Instead of kissing her like he wanted, he took his hand of her thigh and reached into his own bag and pulled out another beer and cracked it open with one hand.

"Hey, kids. We're going to get more firewood. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." John B stated as he flashed a small light at JJ's face as him, Pope and Kie stood up from the fire and began to walk towards the clearing around the pit.

"What exactly does that rule out?" JJ scoffed with a sip of his beer as he watched his friends leave.

JJ released a sigh of relief to finally be alone with her for the first time all night. The arm he had around her waist tightened to keep her snug in his lap as he placed his beer in the sand beside him and placed his hand back on her thigh.

"Your hand is cold, JJ!" She squealed as she grabbed his fingers from her skin.

JJ smirked as he took his hand out of her grip, wiggled his fingers and reached beneath her shirt to press his fingertips to her bare stomach. She squealed and gripped at his neck as she squirmed on top of him to get away from him.

"C'mere." JJ grinned as he took his hand from under her shirt and cupped her face to pull her close to him. He pressed his lips to hers and and breathed a sigh through his nostrils while she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I missed you, JJ." She stated while her fingers twirled his hair around at the nape of his neck. She turned her body so she straddled his lap, her feet pressed into the sand on either side of him.

"I missed you, too. I'm sorry these guys are here. It was supposed to be just the two of us tonight." JJ replied as he held her hips tightly while he pressed kisses to her chin.

"Well, I'm still having fun. But maybe next time, don't tell your friends your plan to get me naked on the beach?" She smiled while she extended her neck for his trail of kisses.

JJ laughed as he nestled his face in her neck and pressed kisses along her neck, his fingers pulling the hood of her sweater away to reach her collarbone. He pulled his hands off her hips to press them to her bare thighs again, hopefully his palms had warmed up now, and slid his hands to the hem of her shorts.

"I got us a bottle of wine from the country club..." JJ trailed between small bites of her collarbone.

"You stole an expensive bottle of wine from your job?" She laughed as she pulled his hair to make him look at her.

"I took one of the cheaper ones that no one orders." JJ grinned as he licked his lips.

She shook her head, a smile on her face, before she leaned in to kiss him again. JJ groaned against her lips while his hands slid up the back of her oversized sweater and pulled her close against him. JJ used his abdominal muscles to knock her over into the sand, his hand cradling her head for impact as they fell.

"JJ!" She laughed against his lips, her legs wrapped around his waist.

"You look so cute in my sweater." JJ muttered while he pressed kisses down her neck again, pulling his hand from under the oversized sweater in favour of pushing it up around her stomach.

"Whoa, guys! We walked away for like, five minutes for fire wood. I hope you brought protection!" John B yelled as three sets of feet shuffled through the sand towards the fire pit again.

"Why would I? I have you guys." JJ groaned as he pulled himself off of her and extended his hand to pull her up. JJ sat back down and pulled her onto lap, taking a brief moment to help her brush the sand off her backside.

JJ tossed a playful glare at Kie across the fire, who mouthed an "I'm sorry" at him. JJ shook his head with a smile as he wrapped his arm around his girl and kept her close, silently vowing he would never tell his friends about a fire on the beach again.

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you! xoxo

Requests for OBX are open!

[liberty-barnes]

My Everything

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Request: I was wondering if you could do something with Kaz and the reader as a sister to Aleksander, and that they are fighting in the fold when Zoya and Alina get them out that the reader jumps off the ship to kill the darkling so that he won't escape, and everyone is sad and standing and waiting, and then she comes limping out from the fold. (If you can, I would love it if she, Alina, and Mal were best friends from before.)

Warnings: mentions of Kaz’s touch aversion, fight scenes (aww my first fight scenes!), description of murder, minor spoilers for SoC (mainly Inej’s knives and that one secret we learn about Jesper), language

Word Count: 4.3k words

Estimated Reading Time: 17 minutes

A/N: I’m gonna be honest, this deserved to be a series and I’m very sad to not have the energy to make it into one but to make up for that, I turned it into a proper one-shot cause screw my sleepover’s rules, I made them anyway, I’ll break them if I want to.

Masterlist | Miah’s Comeback Sleepover

You pawed at the shackles bounding your wrists. You knew you were on a skiff, you could feel its movement. You knew that your brother was somewhere on the upper deck since you could hear his voice, powerful and commanding even this far away. You hated it.

Yet even after decades upon decades spent dealing with the consequences of his foolish actions, you still couldn’t find a way to best him. You had ignored your mother’s requests to train harder, be stronger, prepare yourself for when the time came for you two to battle it out in the most rudimentary way of all. Deep down, you knew she was right, but that didn’t sway your decision.

Instead, while your brother moved his way up the ranks until he commanded an army, you hid out in little villages, away from most civilisation. You found a place, stole an amplifier that would allow you to heal and tailor yourself if need be, worked whatever job you could, then left before you could get too attached, disappearing into the shadows, as was your place.

How foolish of you, to believe that you could hide out forever.

You waited until no noise came from above you to melt away from the shadows surrounding you. That was one good thing about being a Shadow Summoner: no one could see you if you didn’t want to be seen.

You didn’t know where you docked exactly. The sailors were Shu, travelling to this place, instead of returning, as you were accustomed to. For once, you had no bearings in this new place.

You left the boat and walked the streets, paying close attention to the people and places. A word here, a flash of money there, and you were once again in full control of your destiny.

You slinked away from the many gambling halls, houses of pleasure, and other such idiotic places and went further into the shadows. Your home. The further you went, the safer you felt, although something told you you shouldn’t.

You looked up at the rooftops from your peripheral. A girl. Impressively soundless, most likely invisible to any other person. It reminded you of a cat you used to have when you were younger, happier, and naive. She used the shadows in her favour. Unfortunately for her, you were the shadows.

You weighed your options and turned onto an empty street, stopping and crouching down as if to tie your shoe. Above you, the girl stopped and observed.

“Hello, little cat.”

You said, in perfect kerch. If you live this long, you learn to pick up a few languages. The girl stilled, and you turned towards her.

“Come on, hop on down, I’m not gonna hurt you or anything.”

She seemed to hesitate for a second but eventually did, landing soundlessly on her feet. Your heightened vision allowed you to see her perfectly. She was Suli.

“That was impressive. I suppose most people don’t even notice you’re there, much less call you out on it.”

Her eyes widened, most likely surprised to hear her mother tongue spoken back at her.

“You’re Suli?”

You shook your head.

“Ravkan. Close enough. Mind telling me why you were following me?”

She shifted on her feet. Apparently, once you took away her greatest strength, she had a hard time bouncing back. It was understandable. You wanted to fix it.

“My boss has me stake out everyone that he deems necessary. One of those is newcomers that don’t fit the usual pattern. You came into my sights.”

You nodded.

“Understood. Lead the way, I wanna have a talk with that boss of yours.”

Now, you’d give anything to be back on the streets of Ketterdam.

You cursed yourself as your fingers yet again failed to touch. All you needed was one measly touch of your hands to activate the magic, get it flowing, then you could get out of here. Your movements were still sluggish from the brief Heartrender-induced coma. You suspected that Aleksander wanted you to be at the centre of his victory, so close, yet unable to stop him. Not for the first time, you cursed yourself for your actions.

A letter was waiting for you on top of your bed. You briefly wondered if one of the Dregs had mistakenly put it there since you had no one to send letters to you, but once you got closer you knew it wasn’t a mistake.

“No…”

You gasped out, staring at your name, proudly scrawled in your mother’s handwriting.

This can’t be possible. No one knows where you are.

Hurried words, some stood out, need you here, not much time, imminent disaster.

You made your way up the stairs and to Kaz’s office.

Need you here.

Need you here.

Need you here need you here need you here.

“Come in.”

You closed the door behind you and Kaz immediately abandoned his plans, most likely expecting another night of healing. Although you were powerful, healing was an acquired gift, not a born one. It’d take a few more sessions to fully rid him of his touch aversion. Although you’d managed to stop him from recoiling at your touch, others were still a challenge.

He noted your posture and a frown crossed his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to leave.”

The way his face dropped haunted you all the way out of the Slat, to the boat, through the Fold, into the Little Palace, in the woods when you were trying to keep Alina and Mal safe, during you and your brother’s first showdown, and was still with you now, bound in some skiff to witness your brother’s cruel plan come to fruition.

“(Y/n)?”

You snapped your head towards the voice, eyes filling with newfound hope at the sight of your newest friend.

“Mal!”

He rushed towards you, looking for anything he could use to break your bonds while you inspected him for injuries. Aleksander could take away the amplifier, but your Healer instincts were not something you could just shake off.

“How did you end up here?”

He looked at you as if it was obvious.

“I couldn’t let Alina face him alone. Even less when I saw them drag you here. Unconscious, nonetheless. I would’ve come by sooner but I had to make sure no one would come to look down here.”

You nodded. What Mal and Alina had wasn’t something you could break. Wherever he goes, she goes, and vice-versa. There’s no doubt in your mind they’d follow each other to the grave without a second thought.

“Ugh, I can’t get these off!”

You made your way to the pair, soundless as ever. They were hiding from Aleksander and his Grisha, but you knew they would be caught.

“Don’t panic, it’s just me.”

Mal turned around, surely ready for a fight, but Alina stopped him.

“Mal, it’s okay, she’s a friend.”

You quickly assessed your surroundings, figuring out the best path to get away from the search party.

“Over here, come on, we have to hurry.”

They followed you, eager to get out of danger, and within minutes you had them safely stowed away and out of your brother’s reach.

You reached for Alina.

“Come, let me heal you.”

It still surprised you how she trusted you so easily, even after knowing the man Aleksander was. The man you were related to. You supposed your mother had a hand in that.

Once she was fully recovered, you turned to Mal.

“I know you don’t know me, and you have no reason to trust me, but if you allowed me I’d like to take care of those cuts of yours, get you back into peak condition.”

He looked towards his friend.

“If Alina trusts you, then so do I.”

It was that simple.

“I can.”

You thought you were hallucinating. Kaz? On the East side of the Fold? Not possible.

Yet, when you lifted your head, there he was: in flesh, bones, and leather gloves. You almost sobbed.

“Kaz…”

He pushed Mal away with his cane, then knelt behind you, cradling your bound wrists with gentle hands. You couldn’t see him work, as your hands were behind your back, but you could feel the shift of his wrists, the heat emanating from him, his breath on your neck.

One barely-there brush of his arm against your fingertips and your hands were free. You turned around and he brought his hand to your face, inspecting it for any injuries that might have occurred. Fortunately, your brother had been kind enough to allow a Healer to tend to you after your fight.

“What are you doing here?”

“We came here on a job. Get Alina, get a million kruge. It didn’t go so well.”

You laughed wetly, throat tight from holding back tears.

“I’m really glad you’re okay, and I’m happy to see you but I wish you weren’t here.”

Another voice piped up.

“You know, it’s really unfair that he gets all the sentimental reunion shit and we don’t even get a hug. Like come on, are we not friends?”

You rose on unsteady feet and brought Jesper into your arms, repeating the action with Inej right after. How you’d missed them.

A scuffle broke out from above you and you knew that you had to act now. You were going to stop your brother. Once and for all, like you should have done all those years ago.

Kaz squeezed your hand as you repeated the familiar words.

“No mourners.”

“No funerals.”

“(Y/n)!”

Your mother’s voice rang out as you stared at the door outside her bedroom. Soldiers stood, Aleksander was widely outnumbered.

“I have to help him.”

She shook her head.

“No. You have to stop him. He’s about to do something terrible.”

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t just leave him to die. He was your big brother, your family. You couldn’t leave him. With a flick of your wrist, the shadows had risen to hold their feet to the ground. Destabilising them. Scaring them. You thought you had evened the odds.

Turns out the scales had started to tip in Aleksander’s favour long ago, and the sudden surge of Grisha power in the air was all he needed.

In a split second, he’d siphoned the little bit of your power that was in those shadow traps. It looked so insignificant given how much you had. But a little power goes a long way. It went long enough for him to create the Fold.

Your mother begged you to stop him, fight him, put an end to what would ruin millions of lives. You felt fear take hold of you, shame, doubt. You knew you’d never be good enough for that. Brave enough.

When he came back inside looking for Baghra, you were gone, hidden in the shadows like the coward you were. Hidden in the shadows like you’d remain from then on.

It all happened so fast. Too fast. One minute you were fighting, Alina was setting herself free, Aleksander went overboard, you rescued Mal. You saw your brother disappear into the shadows but he was still there, fighting them, and he’d win. These shadows were a part of him. He’d created them. They’d obey their creator. They wouldn’t harm him. They couldn’t harm him. But you could.

Zoya got the sails to work again, propelling the skiff out of the Fold just as you jumped out, drowning out your friends’ voices. You saw them all get out safely. That’s good. You took a determined step forward.

You stood face to face with your brother. Alina and Mal were further North, still trying to locate the stag. You stayed behind. You had to protect them. You had to fight him, make up for all the suffering you could have prevented.

“(Y/n). So you did return.”

He rose his hand up to stop his men from moving.

“This needs to end, Aleksander, you’ve caused enough suffering as is.”

He scoffed.

“Suffering? Only to our enemies. They wanted us shackled, weak, dead. I’m doing this for the good of our people, why won’t you understand that?”

You rose a brow.

“That sounds a lot like what the Fjerda say before they burn Grisha at the pyre instead of learning to live in harmony.”

His eyes lit up in anger.

“Do not compare me to those beasts. I am a living Saint, the saviour of our kind!”

You let a tear fall from your eyes, finally seeing just how far gone your brother was. But this wasn’t him. Your brother was dead. He died along with Luda all those centuries ago. This was the Darkling, the Black Hester. Aleksander was dead.

“You are no saviour.”

Shadows formed around you just as they did around him.

“Fine, make me your villain.”

It was a gruesome fight. Shadow against shadow, punch against punch, blade against blade. You had the same power, but not the same strength. He had a purpose, a will, a goal that had festered for over a century. You were slower, less trained, mourning the brother you just realised you lost.

It was a lost cause from the very beginning.

He plunged his blade into your gut. You thought it fitting, that you’d spent so long hiding in the shadows only for them to be the reason for your demise.

The amplifier, the one thing that gave you power, that allowed you to heal instead of destroying as your family seemed to constantly do, was pulled from your body and you felt yourself weaken, hitting the snow with a dull thud.

The last thing you registered was a Healer tending to your wounds before your pulse was dropped and you were welcomed by the unforgiving helplessness of unconsciousness.

“Come to join me, little sister? Finally came to your senses?”

You stood in front of him, nothing but twenty feet of air between you. You felt the darkness everywhere. In the ground, in the dust floating, in the creatures flying around. This was pure darkness. You were in your element, but so was he.

“You know I’m not, Darkling.”

“It’s Aleksander, call me by my name.”

You shook your head.

“Aleksander died along with his lover. You are not my brother. You’re an abomination, and I’ll rid the world of you if it’s my last action on this Earth.”

He drew his hands in front of him and a blade formed.

“As you wish. If you’re no longer my sister, I’ll have no qualms about killing you.”

You evaded expertly as he swung down his blade. He was expecting an easy fight, and yet he’d have anything but. He saw you as the defenceless little girl he had to protect in his youth, the coward that ran out on her family, the unworthy opponent he bested once already.

But that was not you anymore. You’d changed, quickly and drastically. You had a goal now, a single-minded type of focus: beat him, end him, undo your wrongdoings.

You channelled all your knowledge, your instincts. The years spent defending yourself against soldiers with bows and arrows, the days evading Fjerdans, Examiners, and any of the like, the months spent fighting for and beside the Dregs. You were a different person.

In that moment, you weren’t (Y/n), you were the personification of his doom, you were karma coming back for retribution, you were the wrecking ball that would destroy everything he’d created.

He relied too much on his blade, you didn’t make that same mistake. With a flick, shadows encompassed his feet, as you had once done for his enemies. Your shadows, uncontrollable to him. He swung his blade down to cut them off, but you kicked it away. Punching him in the face felt better than you’d imagined.

Drawing your own shadows was complicated here, where everything was his creation. They could be easily destroyed by a momentary loss of focus. He thought that was a slip-up. He was terribly wrong.

He brought his knee up to hurt you but you caught it, dropping to the floor with practised ease and watching him fly over you, hitting the ground with a groan. And then it was hit. After hit. After hit. A block here and there, but they got rarer the more you moved along. His body sagged on the floor, face beaten beyond recognition, body drained of all its energy from the previous fight and now this one.

You formed a dagger, just as your brother had taught you all those years ago. Fitting that he'd be the one teaching you the skill that would kill him.

“Goodbye, Darkling.”

You plunged the dagger into his heart, watching the light fade from his eyes. His body started to sag and fade, turning to shadows and being absorbed into your being. He might have been a Shadow Summoner, but he was also an Amplifier. His body’s power went to the one that killed him. When his body was gone, now forever a part of you, you allowed yourself to lay back down.

With him dead, the Fold was no longer able to expand. It had no creator to draw its power from, it was at a standstill, waiting to either fade or be blown away. The Darkling was powerful, you’d expect it to take a few more centuries to fade on its own. But that wouldn’t be a problem. Alina would destroy it.

You looked down at your arms, the black magic of the Amplifier not yet settled within you. In a sense, it was comforting. Aleksander had been an Amplifier long before his soul had rotten. It felt like having a part of him with you forever.

You closed your eyes, body weak, and let yourself sink further into the dirt.

You thought of what you’d be living behind. Alina. Mal. Inej. Jesper. The Dregs. Your little room in the Slat. That cat that always came around begging for food.

Kaz.

Oh, Kaz…

You’d never gotten to say goodbye. It was a split-second decision to jump off that skiff. You’d never said goodbye to him. Worked through the remainder of his touch aversion.

Would he be mad? Would he mourn you? Would he cry?

You’d never seen him cry before, but surely this was a good reason to.

You’d never get to kiss him.

You’d gotten so close too.

But all that hard work was in vain now.

“Alright, do you wanna try now?”

He opened his eyes and nodded. You’ve done a lot of progress over the last few weeks. From taking off his gloves when you were in the room, to touching your bare hand with his, to laying on the bed, side by side.

It was a daily job, first getting through those walls enough that he didn’t recoil at your touch for the sole purpose of healing his leg. It was a weakness he didn’t like to have. Now that his leg was fully healed up, you could focus entirely on him.

At first, you felt hurt that he still insisted on carrying his cane around everywhere, until you noticed it was more for deceit and practicality’s sake than for actual necessity.

You laid on the bed beside him, as you’ve done multiple times. You always make sure to let him make the first move, let him have control. He needed control and you were more than happy to give up some of it.

He started by moving his hand towards yours and linking your pinkie, breathing for a moment and sighing in relief when no feeling of nausea arose.

You hadn’t done much, really, it was all him. Your work involved calling up the memories and offering him better coping mechanisms but he had to accept those mechanisms and put them in place. He was the one that made peace with Jordie’s death and what he had to do to survive. He did all the heavy lifting, your only job was to keep him sane while he processed those emotions, and then help him get reacquainted with touch.

He took a deep breath, holding it in his lungs. You’d seen that expression before. It was the expression he wore when he was about to take a gamble, get into a fight, jump off some building to escape whatever hole he’d fallen into. A deep breath before that sudden leap of faith, if he even had any.

He quickly pulled you to his chest, hugging you tightly with an arm around your shoulder and another around your waist.

A second passed. Then two. Three. He let out the breath he was holding and sighed.

“All good?”

“All good.”

You smiled and hugged him back, taking in the unique scent that could belong to no one but him. His body safely cocooned yours and you let yourself relax. The day had been long, healing much needed and tailoring required for a job. You started to feel the heavy toll of exhaustion weighing you down and fought against the drooping of your lashes. But you were fighting a losing battle.

When you woke up the next morning, Kaz was still in bed with you. You could feel his eyes on your face, hands caressing your cheeks, bodies still pressed up against one another. When your eyelids fluttered open, he didn’t look away.

His eyes were gorgeous, you hadn’t actually noticed that before. Up until now, they were just blue. How foolish you had been to think that such beautiful things could be categorised as “just” anything. They were the diamonds in Queens’ necklaces, they were the sky in late Fjerdan winter, they were the water you’d travelled on to get here. They were a perfect mirror to him.

No part of Kaz Brekker should ever be described as “just” anything because Kaz Brekker was everything.

Carefully, he leaned in. This was nothing like yesterday, no sudden movement to test a theory, find out if he was ready, if the treatment was working. He was doing this because he wanted to. Because he wanted to kiss you.

You felt his breath on your lips and gently closed your eyes. His mouth barely brushed yours, no more than wind on a cold day, when a knock suddenly reverberated and he was jumping away to sit at his desk, sparing you one last glance as you straightened yourself up before inviting in whoever it was.

“Get us back in there, Squaller, I am not leaving her behind!”

Zoya shook her head while behind him, Alina wept in Mal’s arms.

“If she jumped out, she’s as good as gone. The Fold is ruthless, and she has to deal with the Darkling as well. She couldn’t have survived.”

He shook his head in blatant refusal.

“No. No, you don’t know (Y/n). She wouldn’t die, she wouldn’t die! She’s alive and she needs us to go looking for her!”

Jesper paced back and forth, examining the skiff, most likely trying to figure out if he could manipulate the material of it enough that they’d be on the move. But skiffs weren’t made to be worked by Fabrikators, they were made to be worked by Squallers.

Inej was oddly silent. Clutching a knife to her chest, one of the two new ones she’d bought for her thigh holsters. The one on the right thigh was named Sankta Alina, the left one, the one she held now, was still unnamed.

He paced. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when he had yet to tell her he-

Tell her he…

Not when I haven’t told her I love her.

He thought and forced himself to really think those words. To think them over, and over, and over again, so that when he saw her again, they’d be the first ones tumbling out of his lips.

Before I miss you.

Before I thought you died.

Before I’m glad you’re alive.

“Oh, Sankta (Y/n).”

Inej whispered, and pointed at the Fold, where they’d come out of what felt like hours ago. A figure in a black outfit stumbled out. He knew that outfit. He knew that figure. He’d know her even when he didn’t know himself. When the rest of the world was a blank slate and he didn’t recognise the man staring back at him in the mirror, he’d know her, and he’d know he loved her.

He jumped off the skiff, cane, hat, everything left behind and sprinted towards her. Faster, he thought, you’re moving too slow, get to her faster.

He was a mere sixty feet from her when she lifted her head, saw him, and smiled. She stopped then, knowing he’d come to her, knowing he’d save her, knowing he’d hold her up when she couldn’t hold herself, protect her and heal her like she’d done him.

He pulled her into his arms as soon as she was close enough to. His grip was unyielding, strong, desperate. He pulled away just enough to look into her eyes.

“I love you.”

His voice didn’t waver, despite the tears. It didn’t break, there was no tell that he was lying because for once in his life, he wasn’t. For once, he was telling the truth, the purest, most honest truth, with no regards for how bad that could end.

“I love you, too.”

But of course, it wouldn’t end badly, because this is (Y/n) we’re talking about. Soft, gentle (Y/n) that could heal him with a look and destroy anyone with a flick of her hand. She was hard, she was dangerous, she was powerful, she should be feared, she was his equal, she was his love, she was his life, she was his everything.

When they finally kissed, it felt like coming home.

Are you guys as soft as I am right now? Cause I just read this over and I am in a pile of tears, so either my sleep deprivation has finally caught up to me or this is genuinely the best thing I’ve ever written.

Anyway, if you liked it don’t forget to like/reblog/comment/send me an ask or dm ranting about it, I really love hearing from you guys.

-Love, Miah <3

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you)

PERMA TAG

@adriannajackson123 @evermoreholland @inlovewithmobtom @andycanbeemotional @officiallyunofficialperson @lost-in-the-stars03 @jeezkiddo @a-singleboat @parkersbliss @highlydisfunctional1 @inthecornerchair @harishaanne @anjalika03 @peterspideyy @lozzypoz321 @mendes-marvel @sovereignparker @sofyluv17 @dracoswhore007

SHADOW AND BONE

@thegirlwiththeimpala @olkathechaoticfox @iloveinej

[jaskiersvalley]

🌼~BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you’re supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you’re beautiful inside and out.~🌼 xoxo toss a coin to your bard

You are far too sweet to send this, and my apologies for sitting on this so long without replying! I will definitely be continuing the game and appearing as a loving anon in ask boxes soon. In the meantime, here's a little ficlet of thank you.

As a bit of background, I've been watching Centaurworld recently and this song (Rider's Lullaby) has been stuck in my head for days. So I thought I'd give it a bit of a twist and let the horses of Kaer Morhen have it.

Lullaby of the Wolf

Winters weren't a time of rest for just Witchers. Their trusted companions on the perilous Path were also granted some much needed rest. Roach and Scorpion went years back, familiar enough with each other that Roach's disdain and Scorpion's less desirable personality traits no longer caused problems. They could even be housed in neighbouring stalls which was a major breakthrough on an especially cold winter. All the same, it was a welcome surprise when a bay gelding separated them.

"You're not the prickly bastard's," Roach sniffed daintily.

"My rider travels with him. They call me Nettle. Because I'm a pain in the butt."

There was a snort from Roach and Scorpion laughed heartily at that.

"Bossman called me Scorpion because I stung his pride. He really hoped for a nice juicy steak as his surprise."

Roach dryly cut in, "He should have eaten you anyway, probably would if he could understand you."

Nettle, rather wisely, decided not to comment on that. Or the colourful swearing Scorpion went off on about how a full blooded stallion like him was...actually, Nettle tuned it out in favour of watching a goat trot into the stable and give him a hard stare.

"Prickly's mate is staying, teach him."

Which was how Nettle spent the rest of winter learning the way of a Wolf Witcher's horse. Though he was a Cat Witcher's steed, he was deemed worthy of being brought into the fold. Namely, the lullaby. While horses' singing wasn't audible to humans, Witcher or not, it still seemed to help. Not only did it seem to soothe the Witchers, it helped the horses too, gave them something to focus on outside the wild panic of the situation at hand.

Despite none of them being exceptionally gifted in the way of singing, they all joined in, their soft voices joining to make a chorus.

"Where did the song come from?"

"The old one's mule taught us. Who was taught by the mule before," Roach explained.

The goat, Lil Bleater, chipped in. "It's been passed down generations. Sometimes the old one still hums it. Especially when he's been left by his pups each spring."

That wasn't something Nettle ever heard. But he dutifully memorised the song and even sang it softly under his breath on the way down the mountain, where his human and his mate were tense, as worried as they were on the way up. The others had been right, though they couldn't hear the song, they both relaxed whenever Nettle sang.

It was pure luck that the prickly one's payment for a contract was a horse. She was black, had a tendency to be lame when she didn't want to do something and was, inevitably, named Bitch. Even if she was the nicest horse Nettle had ever met.

"You're a Wolf Witcher's horse now," he told her in the evening as they were left to graze on the sparse grass. "There's some things you need to learn."

Travelling together, Nettle taught Bitch the song. She was definitely suspicious at first.

"Just go lame, they won't pull you in the direction of danger. It's much easier."

Nettle laughed at that. "Their job is to go into danger. And ours is to follow. This is what we can do for them. Carry them, be there for them when nobody else wants to be. It's not much but sometimes we're the only thing they have. It's an honour."

So together they sang and Bitch learned to be brave. She appreciated not being coerced into things, no forceful shoving, no smacks. A lot of cursing and name calling, even a threat of being eaten if she didn't get with the programme but it was all empty words. The underlying impression she got from her prickly owner was that he cared and that was his problem. Because his fragile heart couldn't bear the idea of more senseless loss. Everyone knew the fate of those who got close to a Witcher, human, horse, goat, they all eventually died. But Bitch grew fond of him, she sang the song Nettle had taught her the first night they were alone. Nettle and his Witcher had to head off, she didn't pay much attention to the reason, her main concern was her prickly one and his sudden sullen coldness. It seemed Nettle had been right, Witcher sometimes only had their horses.

They'd been alone together for weeks. Human settlements came and went, monsters too. Her job was to make sure her human got from one place to the next and, sometimes, she kicked up a fuss still, limping in an effort to get him to rest. Despite her best efforts he was still miserable, obviously missing the company of his mate even when he vehemently denied the need for anything but solitude.

Trust was an easy thing to earn. Bitch was content to follow her new owner, following after him obediently. Though his job was as odds with her nature, he had yet to lead her wrong. And she no longer gave him grief either, only insisting on breaks when he needed them too. At least, that was what she told herself until she heard a soft baritone shakily singing.

"You're okay, you're alright, I'll never ever leave your side."

The voice buckled, a soft "I'm sorry" that most certainly wasn't part of the song whispered before continuing, "I will stay and I will fight with you."

Stomping her feet, Bitch pulled at her reins. It had her prickly owner cursing and pulling back, trying to get her to follow along. However, they weren't moving towards the song and Bitch wasn't going to let this go. Rearing up, the yanked her reins free and started off at a canter towards the voice. She ignored the cursing and yelling from behind, trusting her Witcher to follow. Off the path, she crashed into a clearing where a dark horse was curled around a large body. As she clattered to a halt, the horse snorted defensively, ears pinned back.

"If you know what's good for you, you fuck off right now," he snarled. The smell of blood made Bitch shift uncomfortably.

"The song! I know it!" As she approached, the other horse snorted in warning and slowly got to his feet, standing protectively over the barely conscious Witcher.

Though Bitch tried to sing the song, the other horse pawed at the ground. He would have no trouble running her down, they both knew it. Before he could charge though, Bitch's Witcher tumbled into the clearing and blinked once.

"Fucking hell Eskel, what the bloody tits have you done?" There was no hesitation as he barged up to the body and gave the large horse a two handed shove with a growled "move it".

"He's mine," Bitch said, plain and simple. "I've not had him long but he's a good man."

"I know, Prickly is part of Bossman's herd. Didn't think Prickly ever really wanted a steed."

"He didn't. But he got me anyway. Calls me Bitch."

"Nice. I go by Scorpion." The dark horse trotted closer, turning to look at his human with sadness. "I wouldn't do anything to help. I'm glad you brought Prickly here."

They watched together as a camp was quickly set up, potions poured in the fallen Witcher's mouth and wounds tended to with gruff efficiency.

"We might as well settle in," Scorpion announced. "It'll be a couple of days at least before we get moving. And knowing these two, we'll stay in close quarters for a while yet. Welcome to the herd."

[bts-hyperfixation]

Soulmates

JJK X Reader soulmate AU

Warnings: Minor character death(car crash, only mentioned nothing graphic), Drinking

I don’t know if this is what you (the requester) were going for? this is somehow where I ended up

Everyone in this world has a soulmate. Someone that is meant to complete them and make them feel whole.

Your other half can be identified by the matching birthmark hidden somewhere on their body. There are also a lot of people whose marks are so close to matching that it almost feels like the real thing… almost. Sadly, many don’t ever get to experience the love of their true soulmate, so they settle for the closest they can get.

Jungkook was convinced he was one of the lucky few. Looking at her made his heart feel like it was going to burst. Every time he saw her the world got brighter, the birds started singing a little louder, and his stress nearly melted away entirely … nearly. But at 17 no one is going to pay attention to nearly.

Their birthmark’s matched so closely, each sporting a small puzzle piece on opposite wrists. You wouldn’t even bat an eyelid at the loved-up pair as they walked together hand in hand. And he loved her so completely, and her him, that they never thought to question it. Madly in love until the day she died.

Jungkook spent weeks almost comatose when the news of her car crash reached him. Couldn’t move, eat, sleep. To lose your soulmate so young was said to be a fate worse than never finding them at all. Even after coming through the other side people could tell he wasn’t the same carefree young boy he had been, most likely never would be again. His eyes’ looked far older than his years now, his soft features much more angular.

Three months after her death he resolve to never fall in love again, happy in the knowledge that he got to know her even for such a short amount of time.

….

You met Jungkook at a party. Someone from Uni decided that 24 was the right age for a big birthday bash. They hired out an entire club and set up a series of activities for people to enjoy. A mechanical ball on the main floor, a ball pit to the side, a BBQ in the smoking area, and a bouncy castle in the downstairs 90’s themed area. It really was an amazing event. You however spent most of your time watching the quiet Korean boy in the corner, every time his eyes met yours you felt compelled to move to him, talk to him, dance with him, anything that would get his attention on you. At the time you put it down to the alcohol. It took you exactly 3 and a half drinks to pick up the courage and interrupt his current conversation.

He was very sweet, really sweet considering he clearly didn’t want to be talking to you. It was evident in the way his eyes shifted and the nervous playing with his sleeves, still you persevered. Something about him wouldn’t let you give up, not yet at least. Your saving grace came when your favourite band came blaring over the speakers. “PRETTYMUCH” aren’t an underrated band per say but it’s difficult to find someone who knows them in your circle, so when Jungkook’s face lit up at the same time as yours you knew you had your in. So with the Phases remix blaring through the club you took your opportunity.

“I love this song!” You took his hand and pulled him on to the dance floor before you really realised that’s what you are doing. To start with he was frozen, a little shocked by your boldness, but as you gave it your all he joined in, loosening up for the first time that entire night. After that it was a lot easier to talk to him, you actually went into the smoking area to talk more about shared music interests.

After you went to get a drink you got caught up with some others and he came to find you. It felt like an electric shock when he’d grabbed your hand to get your attention, but there were a lot of balloons around so that would explain the residual electricity. By the time the party was over, and the club was closing, you didn’t want to leave him, not just now but ever. You found yourselves wandering around aimlessly, talking about nothing until the sun came up. Looking back it was then you decided Jungkook was it for you. You had never really believed in the soulmate tradition until you met him.

Weeks go by of you texting back and forth. You found out the reason he was so into music was because he was a musician himself, he even promised to perform for you sometime. A lot of promises were made in those messages.

‘There’s this amazing Restaurant in the city’ you claimed promising to take him with you next time.

‘I really want to see this movie’ he said promising to pay for tickets when it came out.

‘We should go see this band together’ The number one promise between the two of you, quickly racking up a lot of different acts to see together.

So when one of those bands turned up on the roster for the local you’d bought tickets immediately sending him the confirmation. Your stomach had fluttered thinking about seeing him in person again. And so you counted down the days as they passed. Picked and repicked your outfit. Talked yourself in and out of going. Eventually the day arrived. The doorbell signalling his arrival was deafening, ringing out through your small studio apartment. You took a few deep breaths before opening the door.

He was flawless, your tipsy memory hadn’t done him justice. A broad chest draped in a white long sleeve tee, ripped skinnies straining against his thighs, his hair swept into a James Dean quiff. You might’ve laughed at the way your outfits had accidently matched (a black crop with white skinnies) had you been capable of making a noise.

“Ready to go?” He asked nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. You’d nodded, blushing when you realised you had been staring.

It was a short bus ride into the town centre. Spent in relatively comfortable silence arms brushing against one another in the limited space on the crowded vehicle. The club was packed wall to wall when you got inside, no hope of getting to the front of the crowd, or so you’d thought. Jungkook grabbed your hand winked at you and began heading in the opposite direction of the stage. He led you up some back stairs and on to a balcony you hadn’t ever noticed before.

“I’ve played here before, almost no one knows this is here, but it will give us the perfect view.” He dropped your hand in favour of leaning over the railing. You couldn’t help but feel cold at the loss. The performance was great, you found yourselves screaming lyrics back and forth at one another. Some people had cottoned on to your little hiding spot and soon it became as packed as the rest of the club. Whether he was trying to protect you from the others or he was pushed there you will never know, but Jungkook ended up caging you to the railing, head resting on your shoulder.

After the show you’d decided it was time to ask him how he felt. The club was still busy, but the two of you had been in a quiet corner on your own nursing drinks and chatting aimlessly.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” You asked, broaching the topic carefully. You watched closely for his reaction, but he gave nothing away. Instead he just shrugged.

“I did once.” It was too blunt, you knew you should’ve stopped but you couldn’t, now you’d decided to tell him it was like verbal diarrhoea.

“I didn’t think I did, I mean I’ve never seen any ‘matching birthmarks’ and every couple I know is perfectly happy… but then I met you and I keep thinking about it, and you, and how I feel about you.” You watched as his face goes from pensive to a deer caught in the headlights.

“I… I have to leave now.” He got up and ran into the crowd before you even had a chance to reach for him. He dipped through a back entrance of the club and into the night before you could even push through the first layer of people.

The ride home had seemed a lot longer. Holding back tears had proved extremely difficult. Of all the reactions he could’ve given you that might’ve been the worst one. Somehow you found yourself thinking even him laughing in your face might’ve been better. You left the lights in your studio switched off that night. Made a beeline for your bed and passed out face down.

It would’ve felt like a bad dream when you woke up… if it hadn’t been for the crusty mascara tracking down your cheeks. You’d picked up your phone from where it lay abandoned next to you. Battery on 12%. You’d decided then it’d be best to run damage control, at least save the friendship.

Y/N: I’m sorry about last night…

You hadn’t expected his reply to be quick, so it’d surprised you when the typing bubbles appeared immediately; and furthered your sadness when they disappeared moments later without a message.

For days you spiralled. Going over the moment again and again in your head. Each replay turning the memory into something worse than the original.

Eventually you plucked yourself out of bed, deciding to face the problem head on and talk to the friend that invited you both to their birthday in the first place.

She met you at a café downtown during her lunch break. It was obvious by your red rimed eyes and sniffling nose that you had been crying but she was nice enough to ignore it for the most part. You caught up on her life for a little while until you physically couldn’t hold back anymore.

You told her exactly what had happened between you and JK, watching as her expression got both more understanding and pitying as you got closer to the end. Whatever you thought she was going to tell you was no where close to the story you got. You sat mouth wide open as she told you about the accident, and the way it affected Jungkook. It made you want to cry all over again. You didn’t know what to say once she had finished, stewing in your own thoughts for a while. The main thought that kept coming to the front of your mind was one that made you feel so evil. But you had to get it out

“What if she wasn’t really his soulmate. What if he was never meant for her” Its barely above a whisper but your friend heard it.

“He truly believes that she was” She replied squinting at you. Her break ended shortly after that leaving you alone with your thoughts.

…

It’s almost a month later when you see Jungkook again. Hadn’t heard a single thing from him since the concert but at least you knew why.

This time it was someone pool party. You honestly hadn’t been expecting to see him there. Didn’t even know you had mutual friends past that one girl. You didn’t think twice about your birthmark when you stripped down to your two piece. Why would you? Everyone has one. You were lay out on a sun-lounger with a drink when you spotted him. Tucked away in a corner once again, the only difference this time was his attention was already on you. He looked as good as ever, hair damp and slicked back, Long-sleeved neoprene shit covering his torso but trunks showing off his amazing thighs. You’d forced yourself to look away form him but could still feel the intensity of his gaze on you.

Eventually you couldn’t take it anymore, too hot under the sun and his stare you decided to change out of your swimsuit into a sundress for the evening. Heading inside you found your way into someone’s bedroom to get changed. Perhaps you should’ve checked to see if the door the locked though, because just as you had wiggled out of the bikini top Jungkook burst into the room.

“Ah shit… Sorry… I um.” His hand had flown in front of his eyes as he’d slammed the door shut behind him and you’d immediately reached for the flimsy dress pulling it over you torso so he could reopen his eyes.

“What in the actual fuck Jungkook?” you whisper screamed not wanting to draw attention to the two of you hidden away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t think… I just needed to see…”

“See what?! My boobs? I think you managed that one perv. You haven’t spoken to me in weeks and now all of a sudden you can’t wait long enough to knock.” You came across a lot meaner than you had meant, you just hadn’t been prepared for him to want to speak to you again.

“No I’m sorry I’ll go, this was a bad idea, I was probably seeing things anyway.” He mumbled looking sheepishly at the floor/

“No wait it’s okay, I really want to apologise don’t leave.” You took a deep breath and waited for his eyes to meet yours properly. When they did you could see the shock behind them.

“Why do you need to apologise? I’m the one that ran off, I never even told you why and I fucked up and I’m sorry I just…” You reached for him then, wanting nothing more than to comfort him and then realised it wasn’t your place, arm dropping heavily back to your side. “I felt so guilty with you, not because of you, because of me.” You nodded in understanding.

“I found about your soulmate after I confessed to you. I’m so sorry I didn’t know. I never would’ve brought it up if I had known you had already found yours.” You’d broken eye contact with him then unable to watch the sadness in his eyes and not be able to do anything about it.

“That’s why I felt so guilty though because the way I feel about you is so similar to the way I felt about her, how I still feel about her deep down. I was so confused because you’re only supposed to get one soulmate, and if I could feel the same way about you in such a short time… it just feels like I’m betraying her by loving you.” He stepped forward reaching for your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. “The today when I saw your birthmark on your thigh I could’ve cried.” He uses his free hand to unzip the shirt he’d been wearing. He pulled his left arm from the sleeve exposing his birthmark to you. A puzzle piece to fit perfectly into your own.

You’d gasped at the revelation you were right. He was meant to be yours. And yet it didn’t feel right. The anguish on his face was clear, the internal fight he had obviously been having with himself ever since the concert.

“Letting yourself love me now doesn’t mean you loved her any less” you whispered, allowing yourself to move even closer to him, wrapping him in your arms. He’d nuzzled into your neck allowing tears to stream down his cheeks and onto your shoulder. You’d felt every bit of stress leave his body as he cried. Emotions he hadn’t even know he had been holding onto, finally letting himself really breath since he had lost her all those years ago.

You’d lost track of the time, just stood with him, holding him until the final few sniffles came. His cheeks had been puffy by and red when he pulled away, wiping his face on the sleeve still on his right arm.

“Do you want to leave? We can go back to mine” You’d asked carefully, not willing to let him go home alone after feeling like that. He’d nodded weakly, sliding his arm back into the shirt before taking your hand in his. You’d headed for the door only to be brought back by the hand he had on yours. He’d pulled you so close you could see the flecks of gold in his irises, watched your reaction before leaning in and kissing you. It was salty with left over tears, but you wouldn’t change you first kiss for the world. Everything felt like it clicked into place in that moment, the world tilted on its axis. The exchange was short lived, a chaste peck followed by a few smaller pecks before he let you lead him all the way home.

Masterlist

[triptuckers]

Second chance - Jesper Fahey

Request: yes “Would you please be willing to write a fic with Jesper from Shadow & Bone where he is so busy gambling that he forgets your anniversary and stands you up at the restaurant where you agreed to meet which turns into a fight and he wants to make it up to you. So a lil’ angsty that ends in fluff?? 🥰🥰” Pairing:  Jesper Fahey x reader Summary:  after waiting for jesper at your favorite restaurant for an hour, you finally leave the place, only to run into jesper, who was just about to enter Warnings: angst, language Word count:  2.2K A/N: oooh I like this !! thanks for requesting and enjoy reading! :) TAG LIST (grishaverse): @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15 @dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha @story-scribbler @romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @itsnotquimey @sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone @aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 @marlenaisnthappy  TAG LIST (jesper fahey): @mufnasa add yourself to my tag lists here

You play with the cherry in your empty glass. You’d already bought yourself two drinks, drinking them as slowly as you could, waiting. The people who are working tonight had sent you sympathetic glances at first, since it was clear you were waiting for someone.  

But the longer you waited, the more angry looks they gave you. The restaurant is very popular among locals as well as tourists. It’s not good for business if one girl kept one table for herself, waiting for someone who still hadn’t shown up.

Just as you want to signal to one of the waitresses to order another drink, someone already approaches you.

You smile briefly and want to order another drink, but she’s the one who talks first.

‘Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to give up the table.’ she says.

You feel your heart sink to your stomach. 

‘Can’t I wait a little longer?’ you say. ‘I’m sure he’ll be here soon.’

‘You’ve already sat here for an hour. We can’t give you any more time, I’m sorry.’ she says.

You sigh softly and get up, smoothing out your dress. You follow her to the bar and pay for your drinks. As you walk toward the door, you start to think where you could go. You don’t feel like going to the Slat.

Inej and Nina would probably be waiting up for you, ready to hear all about your dinner with Jesper, and you didn’t feel like going down there only to tell them he didn’t even show up. You might just take a walk around the city, or go to a nearby park to sit down.

Just as you walk through the door, you bump into Jesper. 

Normally, you’d be delighted to see him. But now you can’t even bring yourself to smile at him. His face looks flushed, as if he ran here. 

‘I can explain.’ he begins, but you push past him and step out onto the street. 

You ignore Jesper calling your name and start to walk away from him. You don’t even register which direction you’re going, you just want to be away from Jesper. 

‘Y/N, wait!’ says Jesper, running after you and catching up with you. 

You start walking faster and curse yourself for wearing such high heels. Then again, they’re Jesper’s favourites, he loves them. Right now you wanted to take them off and throw them in the nearest canal.

‘Look, I can explain.’ he says again.

‘Do me a favour, Jesper. Don’t.’ you say as you keep on walking, refusing to look at him. 

‘Sweetheart-’

‘Don’t you fucking call me that!’ you say loudly.

You stop walking to get in front of him. Jesper looks hurt at your loud voice but in the moment, you couldn’t care less. Anger rises up in your body as you look up at Jesper.

‘You fucking forgot our anniversary dinner, Jesper!’ you say loudly. ‘We don’t get to celebrate a lot around here, and you knew how much I was looking forward to it. I picked out the best restaurant, I got a new dress which I look really good in, and I had something else planned for us after dinner.’ 

Jesper doesn’t say anything, merely looks at you as you catch your breath and continue.

‘I told you time and time again to please remember it, and then you fucking didn’t! This was important to me, I thought it was important to you too.’ you say.

‘Look, I know I stood you up, and I’m sorry for that, I really am. But I knew you had some things to handle for Kaz, so I decided to kill the time and went to the gambling hall-’

You cut him off by a groan and throw your hands up in frustration. ‘Of course you did, because gambling is all you care about!’ you say.

Jesper frowns. ‘That’s not true.’ he says. ‘I care about you.’

You step closer and jab a finger in his chest. ‘If you cared about me, you would have remembered instead of wasting time and money gambling.’ you say.

Shaking your head, you step back from him. Jesper looks hurt at your words. You tear your eyes away from his face and bend down to take off your heels. 

‘These are fucking killing machines.’ you mutter as you take them off, choosing to walk barefoot instead. 

You look at Jesper once you’re standing up straight again, and can tell he wants to say something, but you don’t give him a chance. You turn around and start walking away, blinking furiously to stop the tears from falling. 

Part of you expects Jesper to chase after you, and you have to force yourself not to look over your shoulder. He screwed up and he knows it. And you aren’t ready to forgive him just yet. 

But when he doesn’t follow you, you’re still upset. You walk until your feet hurt. Eventually, you can’t ignore the aching feeling in your chest any longer, and you sink to the ground.

You let the sadness take over and the tears stream down your cheeks. You had told Jesper multiple times a day to remember it, that it was important to you. And yet he still forgot. Because he decided to go to the gambling hall. You really thought you meant more to him. 

When the tears have stopped falling and you’re noticing how tired you actually are, you push yourself to your feet and start walking back to the Slat. 

It takes longer than you thought it would, you must have wandered off further from the restaurant than you’d initially thought. You briefly close your eyes and sigh in relief when you finally see the crooked building of the Slat in the distance. 

Your shoes feel exceptionally heavy in your hands as you push the door open. There are a few people sitting downstairs, including Inej, Nina and of course, Jesper.

He hopefully looks up when he sees you, opening his mouth to speak to you, but you turn your attention to Inej.

‘Can I stay in your room tonight?’ you ask her.

She looks from you to Jesper. You didn’t know how much he had told them. Even if he didn’t tell them anything, your puffy and red eyes told them enough. 

‘Please?’ you say. 

Inej nods at you.

‘Thanks.’ you say, turning around to go to her room. You hear how someone gets up behind you, and immediately assume it was Jesper.

‘Don’t.’ you say without turning around. 

You climb the stairs to Inej’ room and let yourself in. After preparing a bath, you let your aching feet soak in the water. You lean your head back and close your eyes, letting your thoughts take over. 

After a while, you hear Inej knocking on the bathroom door. 

‘You alright in there?’ she says.

‘No.’ you say truthfully. ‘I’ll be out in a second.’

Inej opens the door a bit and you see her hand as she flings you one of her shirts to wear to bed. You put it on after drying yourself and comb your hair.

She’s sitting on the bed when you leave the bathroom. Thankfully, your eyes aren’t as red as they were. But Inej still gives you a comforting smile.

‘Jesper said he forgot.’ she says.

‘Did he tell you why he forgot?’ you say as you climb onto the bed and lay down underneath the covers. 

‘He only told us he forgot, and kept saying how much of an idiot he was.’ says Inej. ‘But that’s all.’

‘He forgot because he was too busy gambling.’ you say. 

Inej frowns. ‘He was? But you told him so many times not to forget. And he went to a gambling hall?’ she says.

‘Hence why I ignored him.’ you say. 

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ says Inej.

‘No.’

‘Do you want me to shut up so you can go to sleep?’

‘Yes.’

Inej doesn’t reply anymore, instead she lays down as well. It takes a while for you to get comfortable. You’re used to sleeping next to Jesper. Inej is one of your best friends, but of course it’s still different. After what feels like hours, you finally fall asleep.

For some reason you feel even more tired than the night before when you wake up. It’s like your entire body feels heavier for some reason. Inej must’ve already went downstairs for breakfast, because she’s not in the room with you.

You get up and briefly stop by the room you share with Jesper - after checking he’s not there - to put on a clean outfit. You’d hoped Jesper would be away, but he’s sitting downstairs with the rest of the crows when you enter the room.

You want to turn around and get breakfast at a cafe, but Jesper is faster. He’s quick to walk toward you with just a few steps. You want to walk out the door, but Jesper reaches out and grabs your arm. 

‘Just hear me out, okay?’ he says.

You ignore him and keep your eyes fixed on the floor, determined not to look at him. 

‘Look, I was an idiot. I can’t apologise to you because me forgetting our anniversary dinner because I went gambling is unforgivable. Especially since you told me so many times not to forget. It was fucking stupid, and I promise you it won’t happen again.’ says Jesper. 

You have to physically hold yourself back not to throw yourself into his arms. Because yes, Jesper was an idiot last night, but at the end of every day, you still love him. He’s still yours and you are his.

‘What do you say, love, do you want to give this handsome face a second chance?’ says Jesper. 

You finally look up at him. You missed looking up into his eyes. He’s searching your face for a reaction.

‘Promise me next time you won’t forget.’ you say softly. 

As a response, Jesper holds out his pinky finger to you. You chuckle and raise your hand to hook your pinky finger around his.

‘I promise.’ says Jesper. ‘I’ll make it up to you. Let me make you breakfast, since I missed dinner last night.’ 

You look over his shoulder. ‘Everyone’s still there.’ you point out.

‘Consider it taken care of.’ says Jesper with a wink.

Before you can ask him what he meant, Jesper has already turned around.

‘Ladies, gentlemen, I’m going to need you to clear the room.’ says Jesper. 

Almost everyone gets up, except for Matthias and Kaz. Matthias seems confused, Kaz just seems like he doesn’t care.

‘Right. I have to address all of you.’ says Jesper. ‘Ladies, gentleman, drüskelle and Kaz, please clear the room.’ 

Nina has to drag Matthias away and Kaz only gets up after Inej raises her eyebrows at him, but they do clear the room. 

‘I can’t believe they listen to you.’ you say, watching all of the crows leave. 

‘No one can say no to someone as gorgeous as me.’ says Jesper.

You laugh at his words. ‘Good to have you back, Jes.’ you say. 

You follow him to the small kitchen and hop onto the counter. As Jesper starts to move around, getting ingredients for a nice breakfast, you can’t help but to smile.

When he walks past you, you reach out and grab his arm. 

‘Thank you.’ you say. ‘For making it up to me.’

He leans in and kisses your forehead. ‘Thank you for putting up with my idiotic and annoying ass.’ he says.

‘Hey!’ you say and you playfully slap his arm. ‘You forgot ‘forgetful’.’ you say.

Jesper pouts and you laugh. ‘Forgetting anniversary dinner because you went gambling, I’m going to hold that against you for the rest of your life.’ you say. ‘It’s a perfect summary for your personality.’ 

‘Wrong.’ says Jesper, moving closer to you so he can wrap his arms around your waist. ‘The biggest part of my personality consists of my undying love for you.’ 

‘You’re so cheesy.’ you say.

‘You’re the one who knew what they were getting themselves into when you agreed to be my girlfriend, so that one’s on you.’ he says.

‘Alright, I’ll give you that.’ you say. 

‘I’ll take you out for dinner as well, but for now you’ll have to settle for breakfast.’ says Jesper, letting you go and continuing to make you breakfast.

‘That’s alright.’ you say. ‘It’s been a while since we had the kitchen to ourselves. So, what’s for breakfast?’

‘Well, Inej taught me how to make waffles, but I do have to confess I forgot half of the recipe already.’ says Jesper, looking at the ingredients he gathered. 

You chuckle and hop off the counter. You walk around it and nudge Jesper’s side. 

‘Move over, I know her recipe.’ you say.

‘I was going to make you breakfast, love.’ says Jesper.

‘Perfect, you can help me then.’ you say. 

‘Deal.’ says Jesper.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[ladyeliot]

PS I LOVE YOU

This One-shot is for @mostly-marvel-musings’s “600 follower challenge.” Thank you for doing this! 

Pairing: Tony Stark x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Tony's death he decides to create a "plan" to say goodbye to you.

Warnings: Fluff and Extremely Sad.

Word count: 2593

A/N: I cried a little bit writing it. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

This is perhaps the saddest, as well as the most romantic, story you will ever read. Yours. The fantastic, like the quotidian, was in your day to day life. You made the most important decision of your life, to give your heart to the one you loved, even though you knew there would come a day when he would break it. Tony Stark was not an ordinary man, in any sense, but he was the man you wanted to share your life with, the man who drove you crazy in every way, but also the man who made you smile every morning when you woke up next to him.

Like other married couples you had your ups and downs, his work at Stark Industries took up a lot of his time, but what really bothered you was his second job as Iron Man. Every time he put on that suit, your heart would crack, and it wasn't until he returned to your side that it would be forged again. Fear took over as the years went by, but all you could do was support him 100%, because it was his choice.

After the snap, you realised the opportunity that had presented in front of you, an opportunity among millions that the vast majority did not have, you were together, to move on and to have a new beginning. But still a wide guilt rolled around you, “why us?” The years passed and though you chose to drastically change your life, to move away from the big city and find a nest of love and peace, you knew that Tony's mind was still working, searching for an answer and a solution, realising it when the group of avengers came to ask for his help.

A considerable period of time has passed since all these events, but you know that it was this that triggered you to find yourself standing in front of the lake with one of Tony's closest friends right now.

"Before he left for his mission," Happy began, "he asked me to give this to you if anything happened to him.

You wiped away a tear that slid down your left cheek before you looked at him. Tony had made his choice and you supported him all the way, but you never believed that the pain could consume you like that. You focused your gaze on a small device Happy held in his hands, it was tiny, metal and had a small button. 

"What is it?" you asked, taking it between your fingers.

"I'm sorry, I have no idea Y/N."

You took a deep breath and pressed the button lightly. Instantly a hologram of Tony appeared before the two of you. You almost lost your balance in surprise, you didn't expect to find him in front of your eyes, sitting in a chair, in his Tom Ford suit.

"Hi honey!" said little hologram Tony waving his hand. "I hope you're not watching this, but in case you are, that means Happy has delivered it to you and I'm not with you right now."

You put a hand to your face trying to hide the pain you were feeling as you listened to him speak again. Little Tony was also silent for a moment.

"Anyway," he got up from the armchair he was sitting in. "I have a plan! I couldn't leave for the mission without saying goodbye to you, well in fact I just did and quite well, right now you're in the bedroom trying to pull yourself together— " Tony flashed a half smile and shook his head.

You couldn't help but smile at those words.

"Well, on to what we're going.Honey, I hope this doesn't get into your hands, but if it does, I have a thousand things to tell you and it's impossible for me to do it right now. I was hoping to have enough time to tell you for the rest of our lives, but it's not going to be possible," he sat back down and clasped his hands together. "Listen, ever since the guys came to pay me that visit and we realised we could turn things around, I couldn't get the idea out of my head that something might go wrong with the mission, and you know how I am when I get an idea in my head."  Tony laughed and it brought a smile to your face.  Tony laughed and it brought a smile to your face. "I've been planning this ever since, I've thought about all the things I'd want to tell you that I haven't told you and all those special dates I'd love to spend with you that I won't be able to. So I have a plan! And I need you, honey, to help me," the little hologram got up from the couch again and put his hands in his pocket and approached the camera. "First of all I need you to wipe the tears off your face and show that beautiful smile to the world, and Happy too, but except for the smile thing," you both let out a small laugh between tears. "Secondly, I hope you're wearing that black dress I like so much, the one with the back slit, you know," you rolled your eyes and nodded, you were wearing it."And thirdly, I wish I didn't have to ask you this, but I need you to go to the lab, in the safe you'll find a letter, it's the first of several that will be coming to you."  Tony lowered his gaze. "I can't tell you when you'll get more, but I promise they'll arrive when you least expect them.By the way, the password you already know what it is, on our wedding day— " 

In the background, your voice could be heard, urging Tony to return to the room.  

"I'm coming honey!" after he responds he turned his attention back to the camera. "Sorry, my beautiful wife claims me," you smiled and sighed approaching the camera, meeting Tony's face in its fullness. "Honey, you know you're my only weakness. I love you."

Just as he had appeared the hologram disappeared and a void formed again in your heart. You took a deep breath trying to undo the lump in your throat and taking in every word he had said. You looked at Happy who looked as puzzled as you were.

"Did you know about this?" you asked with mixed feelings.

"I promise I didn't," Happy held up his hands in innocence. 

You quickly walked away from the lake and headed towards your cabin, people had left a couple of hours ago, but Happy had chosen to stay with you. You opened the door quickly, followed by your friend and you both walked down to Tony's lab. His things were just as he had left them a couple of weeks ago, as no one had gone in there. You made your way to the safe, hidden behind one of the works of art, and entered the password.

Just as Tony had said, there it was, a white envelope with your name on it, next to a set of clothes, waiting for you to take it in your hands and open it.  Before you did so, you looked at Happy who seemed to be anxious to discover the contents as well. You didn't know what Tony's "Plan" was, nor if it would be beneficial or painful for you, but that mattered little at that moment, because all you needed was to see him, to hear him, or in this case to read what he had written.

You opened the envelope and read it:

"Hello honey, 

I guess if you are reading this envelope you will have seen the holography and I guess it is the "day", so I have a surprise prepared for you, read carefully. What I need you to do is to get everyone out of the house, Happy can stay, take off that dress, Happy won't be there when you do that, and put on the clothes I've left with the letter. 

When you're ready, just tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. to brief you on the use of your armour. I know, I know you've never been in favour of it, but you need it. F.R.I.D.A.Y will explain everything you need to know, you just let go, trust me. Go out and free yourself, eat the world.

PS I LOVE YOU"

That was one of the first letters Tony had planned for you. As time went on, they came to you once a month, as well as on special days, such as your birthday, his birthday, your anniversary, etc. He had planned every minute of those days. Tony knew you so well that he knew what you might be thinking, or how you were feeling. On the one hand, he covered the loneliness you felt without him, but on the other hand he made you feel even emptier and reminded you that he would never be with you again and you could never spend those moments together.

At first it was rewarding, but as time went on you realised that it was impossible to evolve, you had entered a loop from which it was impossible to get out. You spent your days waiting for a letter that might not arrive, and wondering when his "plan" would come to an end and if you were ready for it. Happy was supportive in that sense and tried to keep you grounded, as you both knew Tony best.

One evening you were doing what Tony had instructed you to do in the last letter you had received, the one for your fifth wedding anniversary. Along with it Tony had sent you a black dress along with a pair of high heels, informing you that you were not to leave the house before 8.00 p.m. and to head for the lakeshore when you were ready.

Happy was sitting on the couch trying to hide his concern about the situation that had dragged on for two years. After finishing your touch-ups you said goodbye to him and complied with Tony's details. You had no idea what you were going to find, but as you left, you could see a small square table in the distance, decorated with candles, waiting for you. As you arrived you noticed that a faint song began to play through a small speaker hidden behind some flowers, your song.

"I guess thanks for that, F.R.I.D.A.Y," you said looking at the diamond bracelet Tony had given you when you got engaged that was connected to his AI.

"It was me," you turned around to find Happy's voice behind you.

You frowned and looked at him, realising that he was holding a pair of white envelopes in his hands. A state of nervousness and confusion took over your body, and without being able to say a word you pointed to his hands.

"These are the last of them," he whispered, stepping in front of you and handing them to you.

You smiled, finding tears gathering in your eyes, and nodded, taking them in your hands.

"I'm sorry Y/N," Happy said with a shake of his face. "He made me promise not to tell you anything, and I couldn't refuse to help him either. Even if I wasn't totally on board with this crazy plan. You know how he is."

"I know," you bit your lower lip smiling and wiping the tears from your eyes.

"They're the last ones," he repeated again. "After today, you'll have to move on without them."

After those words Happy went back the way he had come, and instead of taking a seat at the table you approached the edge of the lake. You had before you the last words Tony had written to you. One of the letters read "To the love of my life", while the other read "To that person". Puzzled, you opened the one that said "To the love of my life" first.

"Hello again honey.

How is everything going, is Happy still keeping his nerves under control in this situation? I hope he is and that he has delivered this letter to you.By the way I don't know how the situation has developed, but don't be angry with him, I made him promise not to tell you anything until it's all over, and as you can see that's the point.

The thing is, I'm not going to be able to write any more, today is the last day before I leave for the mission, and if you've finally been getting all the letters, this has to be the last one. I just made you the recording that Happy will give you if things don't go as planned, and you are begging me to come back to our bedroom with you. 

I guess everything I needed to tell you I haven't been able to do, you know there are a lot of things I'm good at, but in expressing my feelings in words I've never really excelled.

I'd love to know what you're thinking right now, or how you feel about the "plan" I've created. Although I also don't know if you've been able to make it this far, or if you've decided not to go through with it anymore. Happy has orders that the moment you say "enough" it's all over, I don't want you to suffer. 

I just want you to be happy, I want you to be as happy as I have been by your side, I want you to show your beautiful smile to the world, I want you to get everything you want.

My honey, I'm going to dedicate these last words to tell you how you changed my life, how you offered me everything I was missing, without even knowing it. You agreed to marry me, you made us a family. And that's what I want for you.

Even though you may feel sad and insecure right now, I need you to show that you are the strongest woman I know and move forward. May you live that wonderful life you wished you had, may you do crazy things, may you meet people and fall in love. May you feel love again, may you rediscover it with someone who makes you happy and may you start a family again. 

Please don't be afraid, I am well and I will be well. Don't think of me, think of yourself, and if you think of me, know that I will be watching you and taking care of you every day. I want you to know that I couldn't leave our house without thinking that you will never feel that way about anyone again, in case I don't come back.

Having said that, honey, it only remains for me to leave you a new letter, a letter for that person who restores your faith in love, who I know you will find one day. I just want you to give it to him or her when you are sure.

So sweetheart,

PS I LOVE YOU"

Requests/Taglist Open (DM)

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[mystic-deep]

“Whipped Cream” - Part 2 | Nanami Kento fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Taking cooking classes seemed like a nice way to relax and sharpen your skills, too bad the teacher hates you.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: explicit content not suitable for minors, nothing graphic but please be advised, light swearing

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: Here's part 2! Things are starting to move in the right direction. Nothing too explicit though, part 3 will be the first real reason. Hope you enjoy and as always, please forgive any errors and mistakes.

♡ ♡ ♡ previous parts: Part 1

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 3.4k

The second the doors of the elevator opened you dashed out, your eyes glancing nervously at your hand watch. Your weekly meeting had lasted longer than expected and now you were running late for your cooking class. You couldn’t wait to add another reason for that jerk to pick on you.

As you hurried through the lobby, the receptionist that you met on Monday noticed you and offered a sympathetic smile.

“Good afternoon! Nanami-sensei forgot some documents so he went back to fetch them from his car, you should hurry up before he returns.”

“Thank you!” You grinned at her and quickened your pace towards your classroom. It was good to know that not every staff member here was a devil in disguise.

You practically barged inside the room and for a second everyone looked at you with hopeful eyes, only to shift into disappointment when they realized it wasn’t Nanami. Or was it perhaps the fact that they all hoped you’d quit and they wouldn’t be forced to deal with you anymore.

Ignore them, this time around you wouldn’t lose your temper and become another subject for them to gossip about when the class was over.

With that thought in mind, and hopeless positivity, you scanned the room and realized that your previous working space had been occupied already. The only free space was at the very front row, near Nanami’s desk. Strange, you were sure that was probably the most sought out station, seeing how close you’d be to the chef.

You pushed your worries to the side and took out your apron from the bag before putting it on. Only a few seconds later the door opened again and Nanami stepped inside.

“Good afternoon and sorry for being late.” He offered a small apologetic smile and deep inside you thought that he was actually really pleasant to look at when he wasn’t criticizing your existence.

The smile vanished quickly when his eyes landed on you and you kicked yourself for finding him attractive just a few second earlier.

“Miss Y/n, as you probably noticed, I’ve moved your seat in front of my desk. After the events from last time, I need to supervise you attentively.”

You fought back the urge to argue, knowing full well that this is what he was looking for. Obviously today was a test of patience, to see how much he could push your buttons until you’d explode.

“Oh I don’t mind, Nanami-san.”

“I would like you to address me as Nanami-sensei or chef Nanami during classes.”

“Of course, Nanami-san.”

He shot you and angry look but you beamed at him innocently. You had told your friend that it would me a miracle if he didn’t kill by the end of the week but now your execution seemed right around the corner.

“Let’s start today’s lesson.” Everyone took out their phones and placed them on their working station.

“Today we’ll be making Paris Brest, it’s a very popular French desert. I’ve sent you the list of ingredients and instructions on the group chat, make sure you read them carefully and if there’s something you don’t understand you have 20 minutes to ask your questions. After that we’ll get started.”

Everyone gave a short nod in reply, well everyone except you. Your hand rose up causing Nanami to arch his brow in annoyance. “Yes, what is it.”

“I’m sorry but I’m not part of the group chat so I don’t have the list of ingredients or instructions.”

“That is, unfortunately for you, not my fault. Yamamoto-san is the admin, it was her idea to stop the waste of paper that we usually printed on in favour of sending everything via chat. You’ll have to talk to her.”

He made a short hand gesture towards one of the older women and you realized with distress that it was the old hag that questioned you during the previous lesson. She didn’t even bother to look up from her phone, like you didn’t even exist.

Fine, no point in begging to be added to some group you didn’t even want to be part of. You were sure you could find some recipes on youtube or something.

As the 20 minutes passed and Nanami began to take questions, your hand went up again but this time he ignored you. You frowned and went back to study the recipe you found. You were going to make this work, you were going to nail this desert and bask in the glory of your achievement.

About an hour and a half later all deserts had been finished and they were now presented to the chef for inspection. Nanami had moved from station to station giving advices to everyone and correcting mistakes here and there. He of course never spared you a glance and you had to admit it was starting to hurt. You didn’t know you craved so much for his approval or was it maybe the fact that it pissed you off to be pushed aside in such a way. At the end of the day you were paying for this course, it seemed unfair to be treated in such a manner.

“Right, let’s see what we have here.” He studied your Paris Brest, probably looking for any mistakes that he could judge. “A bit underdone, the bottom is somewhat soggy.” You bit your tongue and looked at him as he cut a small piece from the desert but didn’t taste it like he did with the rest. “I’ve asked for crème praline but instead you filled it with crème patissiere. Are you perhaps unable to follow instructions?”

“I didn’t have the list of ingredients and I didn’t have your instructions so I had to search for the recipe myself.”

“And I told you to ask Yamamoto-san to add you-”

“No, you said to talk to her as though this wasn’t your responsibility at all! Meanwhile you didn’t bother once to stop by my station and correct me even though you saw I was making custard crème.” Your cheeks turned red from frustration and you clutched your hands in small fists.

“If you don’t plan on teaching me anything then at least have the decency to say so! If I wanted to learn recipes from youtube I would have stayed in the comfort of my home without having to pay a dime for this joke of a class.” So much for keeping a cool head and not letting him get to you.

Nanami was a tall man, you noticed the second he first set foot in the classroom and back in the parking lot when you dropped your key. Yet you didn’t realize just how tall he was, at least compared you, until he was looming over you. His blue eyes had turned icy and his lips had tightened in a small, sharp line, a sign that he was barely keeping his anger in check.

“You will stay after class.” Despite not raising his voice even an octave, he said it in such a strong manner, like a divine command. When your mouth opened he sent you the most chilling glare. “You.will.stay.” With that he returned to his desk and you were left to boil in your frustration.

Class ended in what seemed to be mere seconds and everyone hurried out after saying their good byes, probably not wanting to delay you imminent death.

“Now, let’s talk in my office.” He gestured towards a door just a few feet away from his desk and you followed him as he opened it and stepped inside.

His office was quite impressive and you wondered just how much this school was making for him to afford such luxury. The room had large windows with a nice view of the office buildings in the distance, a solid wooden desk with a black leather chair as well as a couch with a modern looking coffee table. On the walls you could see several certificates and degrees that were framed, probably from all the cooking classes he had taken.

“Please take a seat.” He sat in the leather chair and you sat in from of him, legs crossed and eyes narrowed. Whatever the hell he wanted to discuss it had better be quick, you just wanted to go home and take a hot bath and forget about this miserable day.

“It seems that you are not adjusting well to this course so I will speak to management in order to return your money. No point to continue this if you don’t want to be here.”

“Oh no, you will not make this look like it’s my fault.” You sat up so quickly you thought you sat down on a spring. “You have treated me horrible since the very beginning and now you’re angry that I don’t sit quietly and take your abuse.”

“If you think that not praising you for the disastrous bake you did on Monday, a bake that I might add you half assed the whole time and then proceeded to blame everything except yourself, was too harsh for your sensitive self then it just further proves how unsuited you are for my class.” He sat up as well, his expression mirroring your own. “The class is a joke, the students are a joke, I am a joke. It’s all a big joke to you, the successful business woman who has no time to waste on such a silly course.”

You felt waves of anger washing over you but deep down inside what you felt more was sadness. Sure he was part right about what he said, you did look down on your classmates and you did insult him back then in the parking lot. Still, it wasn’t that you thought so highly of yourself, it was the opposite actually. Your self-doubt sky rocketed when he pointed all the flaws of your cookies and you couldn’t stand the way those women had chuckled gleefully in the background. Of course, you’d rather eat your fist than to admit to all of that.

“I don’t think this class is a joke and I have nothing against my classmates, it’s just that some of them don’t want me here. As for yourself, you’ve treating me differently than the rest of the class so the problem here is you not me.” You crossed your arms and looked at him in a defiant way. “Rather than returning my money, I want to be moved to a different course where someone else will properly teach me.”

He couldn’t have looked more shocked or upset if you had punched him in the face. This must had been for him the ultimate insult, for you to suggest that his teaching was bad and that someone else could do a better job. Truthfully, you weren’t questioning his skill as a teacher, just that you two obviously couldn’t get along. You weren’t sure that the point came across though.

“You insolent little-” He stopped himself and took a deep breath, clearly fighting the urge to strangle you. “You are absolutely impossible to deal with.”

“No, it’s you who just doesn’t know how to deal with me and I have had enough. There is nothing you can teach me.” With that you grabbed your bag in which you had previously stuffed your apron and hurried towards the door. As your hand reached for the knob, you felt his presence behind you and his left hand slammed against the door while his right quickly turned the key to lock it.

You turned to glare at him but as your eyes met his, your words got stuck in your throat. He looked at you with such intensity that it made your body temperature rise.

“I could teach you a lot of things if only you’d learn to keep that little mouth of yours shut.” The way he said things made you think he wasn’t necessarily referring to cooking.

His right hand suddenly reached for the back of your head and he pushed you forward, taking your lips in a hungry kiss. At first you didn’t move, you were too shocked to fully process what was happening. As his tongue slowly began to push against your lips you parted them and gave him full access to your mouth. Your hands reached for his broad shoulders and you instinctively stood on your toes in order to kiss him back.

The kiss only lasted for a few seconds but it felt like a life time when you finally parted. The anger from his eyes had been replaced with what seemed like hunger and he licked his lips making your knees to tremble.

“You could actually pass as cute when you’re not trying to push all my buttons.”

His words were like a wakeup call and your eyes widened at what had just transpired inside his office. He kissed you, but more importantly, you kissed him back! Not only that but you did it with such desire that no amount of denial would get you out of this one.

“Why-Why did you-”

“Because I wanted to.” Just like that, because he wanted to. He trapped you in his office and kissed you just because he wanted to.

He grabbed your wrist, quite gently to your surprise, and began to pull you away from the door.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to fuck you silly on the desk, what else.” Your eyes practically popped out of their sockets and you froze in place.

“I’m joking, obviously.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Your fist aimed for his shoulder but he dodged the punch without a problem. He then sat down on the couch and pulled your body so that you would seat next to him.

“Now then, let’s discuss a few rules if this is to continue.” What exactly was he talking about? What did he think was going to continue?

“Whatever happens in this room stays in this room. Once we’re out the door we’re back to teacher-student relationship and nothing more. You’ll give me your phone number so I can send you further recipes and set up meetings but we’ll never discuss anything that goes on here via messages or calls.”

“And what’s going to happen here?” You asked feelings a mixture or excitement and curiosity wash over you.

“That depends a lot on you.” He gave a little shrug as his hand landed on your thigh and began to smoothly move upward. “Depends on how obedient you are, show me that you want to learn.” You almost found it impossible to breath as his hand began to massage your flesh through the fabric of your pants. Why, why in the world didn’t you wear a skirt today?

“First, I think it’s fair to ask if I should be worried about you seeing someone. I don’t want to ruin a relationship or marriage.”

“I’m not seeing anyone.” After your promotion from last year it had been nearly impossible with your work schedule to form any kind of meaningful relationship and truth be told it was starting to show. God knows how much time had passed since you shared such a deep kiss and you wanted more of that. Even though there was a part of you that worried about what you were getting yourself into, you absolutely needed to feel that light headed again. Also, you knew that what he had offered was just a taste, just a fraction of what he could do to you.

“What about you? Is this something that you do often?” His hand on your thigh tightened and you let out a little whimper.

“I know you have the tendency to always believe the worse of me, but no, I’ve never done this with anyone. All the more reasons to set up clear rules. Obviously I’m also not in a relationship.”

You didn’t question him- he indeed didn’t seem the type to just sleep around with his students. If anything those women from your class would give and arm and a leg just to be here, in his office, sitting on the couch with his hand on their thigh. Yet for some reason, he chose you. The annoying, opinionated one that always rubbed him the wrong. Or maybe, you were actually rubbing the right way.

“I came to the conclusion that the only way for you to behave during my class is if we can take care of some of that pent up frustration you have.” You cheeks coloured red and you hated to admit it but he was right.

“What about you?” Your fingers began to travel provocatively to the growing bulge in his pants but he grabbed you by the wrist before you had the chance to reach your destination. You whined a little but he just chuckled and kissed the inside of your palm.

“Obviously, I’m not immune or I wouldn’t be here, offering to give you extra lessons.” He let go of your hand, his expression turning seriously.

“Before we continue, I need you to agree that you will behave accordingly.” You nodded in agreement, a bit too quick for your liking.

“I want to make it clear that we’ll not be dating. The second your course ends, so will this arrangement. We won’t meet anywhere else except here and once that door is locked you will be obedient. I won’t do anything that you’re uncomfortable with, but I want you to be opened to try new things, do you think you can do that?”

You nodded again finding it almost impossible so seat still. You were both nervous and excited for this little arrangement and you couldn’t wait to get started.

“Good, one last thing that we need to set straight.” He grabbed your waist and manoeuvred your body until you were sitting in his lap, his hand gripping your chin so he could look straight in your eyes.

“Inside this room you’ll address me as sensei or sir, none of that Nanami-san bullshit you pulled earlier. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes...sir.”

“Good girl.” He offered you a low chuckle and a light smack on your ass. You were absolutely desperate for more of his touch and seeing the need in your eyes, he pulled you in for another deep kiss.

As his tongue explored your mouth, your hips moved against his and his hands gripped your waist in order to stop the friction. He pulled away and looked at you in a threatening way.

“Don’t be greedy, your lessons haven’t started yet.” You wanted to protest but you were also afraid that he would end this before it even had the chance to start.

His slowly unbuttoned the first two buttons of your shirt and let his mouth fall on the swelling of your breast. He licked the flesh and nibbled, making your head fall back in pleasure.

“N-Nanami-sensei.” You mewled his name and he smiled against your breast. After a few more seconds he pulled away, admiring his work. The first mark he had left on your body and the promise of many more.

“Up you go.” He gave you another light smack on your bottom and with trembling legs you moved away from his lap.

“The next meeting will be and Saturday, to make up for the time you wasted today.” You frowned slightly, wondering how you’ll be able to resists until the weekend.

“Don’t make that face, I promise to give you and extra reward if you do well during Friday’s lesson.”

Your expression turned into an excited one and he laughed whole heartedly. “You’re so easy to read.”

With that, your little discussion had come to an end. He unlocked the door of his office and you stepped outside, practically waltzing through the classroom, down the hallway and through the lobby. The nice receptionist asked you something but you couldn’t register anything that she was saying so you just smiled like an idiot and waved her goodbye.

As the elevator door closed, a part of you began to worry about what you were getting yourself into. You weren’t a reckless person and you knew what scandal this could cause if you were caught. Still, it was even more dangerous for Nanami who could risk getting fired, so you had to trust that he knew what he was doing. All worries aside, on Saturday you were going to wear a damn skirt.

[storiesforallfandoms]

too rough ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1714

request?: yes!

@colsonbakerxxxxxx​ “Can you do a smuttty af one with the reader x MGK, like really smutty lol but Kells was extra rough and the reader was trying to hold on but at the end she couldn’t take it so she called out the safe word? Then Kells feels really bad and does the proper aftercare (bath, massage) and him just feeling like crap for hurting her x”

description: after a stressful day of trying to finish his album, colson decides to try and let off some steam, but is a little rougher than he means to be

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (fem receiving), choking, being a little too rough during sex

masterlist

He had had an off day at the studio. Things just weren’t working out to his liking and the album was taking longer than he wanted. The studio was breathing down his neck to get it done in time for the launch, just a month away. Lately, it was beginning to feel like each studio session only completed part of a song, and it was taking a week to try and finish even two songs.

When he got home, he was seething with frustration. He just wanted to go to bed and sleep for a whole day and hope that when he woke up next everything would be fine and finally would work in his favour. That was, until he say you laying on the couch in just a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top, minding your own business and watching TV. He had a better idea for getting his frustration out then.

You turned your head to look at him and smiled a little before noticing his look of frustration. “What’s up, honey?”

“Shitty day at the studio,” he responded as he eyed your body up and down. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He was beginning to pull his shirt off, and you immediately knew where this was going. You sat up and began to pull your own shirt off, a smirk on your face. “Okay, then we won’t talk.”

It wasn’t unusual for one of you to come home frustrated and for the other to help relieve that stress and frustration. In fact, anger sex was probably some of the best sex you had ever had. Some days you were even excited when Colson got home and was stressed and frustrated, or when you were having a shitty day and Colson would send you teasing text messages to tell you how he’d help you relax.

You were about to get up so that you could both go up to the bedroom, but was pleasantly shocked when Colson pushed you back down onto the couch. The living room was one of few places in the house that you ever had sex, mainly because there was always a fear of Casie coming unexpectedly and catching the two of you. But Colson was so frustrated and ready to get rid of that feeling that he really didn’t care where you did it at the moment. He would’ve taken you on the floor if he had to.

He pulled off his pants and pulled your shorts down your legs, kissing over your stomach and thighs as he did so. You giggled as he kissed his way up your stomach, pausing to pay special attention to each of your boobs, before attacking your neck and definitely leaving marks, and finally placing a rough kiss on your lips. You gasped against his lips as he pushed himself fully into you, filling you up in no time.

The rough thrusts and manhandling that Colson did when he was frustrated was also nothing new to you. You had almost grown accustom to them, and some days would rather feel him fucking and handling you more rough than he usually did. But this time was something different. It was as though something else had taken over Colson all together. He was rougher than he usually was with his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin ringing out through the otherwise quiet house.

At first, you thought it was really hot. Your brain could barley form a coherent thought as moans and cruse words fell freely from your mouth and your eyes rolled back in your head in ecstasy. You even couldn’t help the gasp and moan of pleasure when Colson wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed just a little. However, his grip on your throat suddenly became tighter and the once pleasurable thrusts were beginning to hurt and make you feel sore.

You tapped on Colson’s arm, hoping he would get the hint to ease up on his grip. When he didn’t, you managed to wheeze out, “Pomegranate!”, the safe word you and Colson had made up back when you first began dating and having sex.

The word snapped Colson out of his funk. Quickly, he released your throat and pulled out of you. His face was filled with concern as you took a deep breath, finally able to breathe properly.

“I’m so sorry babe,” he said. “Did I hurt you bad?”

You shook your head. “Not bad, no. It was just getting hard to breathe, and you were fucking me a little rough there. I’m feeling a little sore now.”

“I’m so sorry,” he sighed again, sitting at the other end of the couch.

You sat up and ran your fingers through your hair. There was still a pulsing pain between your legs and you couldn’t help but wince when you moved your legs and accidentally put pressure on it.

Colson watched you with sad eyes. He lowered himself onto the floor in front of you, gently guiding you to the edge. He placed a gentle kiss on your sore clit before licking it slowly. Your head lulled back in pleasure as you let out another moan, encouraging Colson to continue pleasuring you. Your hand found its way to his hair, taking a handful of it and holding it tightly as he continued his work. Before you knew it, you were calling out his name as your climax hit you, covering his mouth and chin in your juices.

Colson stood, wiping his mouth with his thumb before sticking it in his mouth, which was an incredible turn on to you. He began to walk away, but you quickly stopped him by asking, “Wait, don’t you want me to finish you off, too, babe?”

He shook his head. “It’s alright, babe. Sit back and relax for a second, but don’t put your clothes back on.”

You giggled, figuring Colson had some other idea for sex. While you still felt a little sore and sensitive, especially after an orgasm, you still felt ready to continue going with the sex. Colson hadn't hurt you as bad as he thought he had, and you really hoped he wouldn’t worry about it that much.

You heard the water begin to run in the bathroom. You stood from the couch and hobbled down the hallway (literally hobble, you were feeling too sore to walk). When you finally got to the bathroom, you saw that Colson was running a bath, completed with your favourite bubble bath peaking over the edge as he continued to fill the tub. His beautiful blue eyes caught you in the doorway, watching him work.

“I told you to relax,” he said, although there was a slight smile on his face and a light tone in his voice.

“I was curious as to what you were doing,” you told him. “This for me?” He nodded. “And are you gonna join me in the bath?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

When the bath was full, Colson helped you in first before getting in behind you. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed over whatever exposed skin he could reach as you rested your back against his chest.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, baby,” he said once again.

You shook your head. “Don’t be sorry, babe. I used the safe word when it got too much, and you stopped immediately. I’m not upset or anything, and I’m already feeling a little better from it.”

He was tracing circles with his thumb around your collarbone, leaving goosebumps that were starting to spread to your neck and arm as he did so. “I was just really frustrated. The record label keeps hounding me to finish this album so they don’t have to push the release date. They keep threatening to cancel it all together if it’s not finished within the next week.”

“Why would they cancel it? So many people are excited for this album, if they cancelled it they’d be losing more money than they are if the album is a little late.”

Colson shrugged. “The label doesn’t have too much faith in me. I’ve been making rap and hip-hop for as long as I can remember, and I’ve been insanely successful doing that. When we went to pitch the album and play them the first few songs, they kept saying they weren’t sure because a change in genre doesn’t always work out for someone. Even when we provided Why Are You Here as an example of how I could make good punk rock music and it could be well received they weren’t sure. I think they just think this album is gonna crash and burn and they’ll have wasted time and money on agreeing to let me do it.”

You put your head back against Colson’s shoulder and turned to kiss his neck as much as you could reach. “Baby, you know that’s not true. Even if that’s what the record label thinks, you know your fans will love the album no matter when it comes out. They’re already begging for more songs that sound like Why Are You Here, imagine how excited they’re gonna be when you drop a whole album that sounds like it.”

Colson smiled and held you tightly. “I guess you’re right. I just can’t help but feed into that negative vibe sometimes.”

“I know, but you have to remember the positives when you start letting that stuff get to you. You have to target those negative thoughts and replace them with positive ones.”

Colson kissed behind your ear. “You’re the best positive thought I have.”

You giggled and turned so you could plant an actual kiss on his lips. “I’m glad I can be a positive thought in your life.”

“I’m glad to have you as a positive thought in my life.”

You smiled and kissed him once more before settling against him again. The two of you sat in the hot bath for some time, not speaking but just enjoying each other’s company. In that moment, Colson decided that this would be one of his new de-stressing techniques in the future; a nice bath with the love of his life.

[fanfickittycat]

Time After Time

TITLE: Time After Time

CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: One Shot

AUTHOR: fanfickittycat

FANDOM: Haikyuu!!

CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

GENRE: Hurt/Comfort

FIC SUMMARY: The lack of a response after confessing your feelings to Ushijima leaves you heartbroken, but all it took was some time

RATING: T 

AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: My stupid sad brain and my desire to write about Ushijima combined to make this. If you’d like to read it on AO3 you can find it here

The words hung in the air as soon as they left your mouth. After the months of pining, and dreaming, and trying to get him to confess first, you had finally decided to bite the bullet and admit that you were hopelessly in love with the Ace of the Schweiden Adlers. The silence that followed was painful. You avoided his gaze, instead looking at your shoes, a pair of dark heels that you were hoping would bolster your confidence. In fairness to them, they had made you feel powerful and poised, but now it felt like balancing on stilts.

“Oh” his deep voice rumbled, breaking through your thoughts and sending the butterflies in your stomach fluttering all at once. You peeked up to look at him. He was so handsome. Tall and solid, with his bag slung over his shoulder from practise earlier in an effortless way that you admired. He always looked so cool without even meaning to. He was looking up at the pinks and oranges of the sky, letting the light of the setting sun cast his face in gold. Your heart somersaulted in your chest as you waited for something to follow. Anything. But he remained quiet, as the spring breeze ruffled his hair.

Dread began to set in. The flush of embarrassment and the chill of rejection created a cocktail of emotion inside of you, but you pressed your lips together and forced the sob in your throat to stay still. You knew you were going to cry and there was no stopping it, you just wanted to make sure you were away from him before the tears spilled.

“I-it’s okay” you said, your throat felt hoarse even though you hadn’t said much. You attempted to straighten up, to show him that you accepted his refusal of your affection. You tilted your head up, feeling the threat of tears in your eyes. Your lip quivered but you stayed rigid in your stance.

“I’m sorry I bothered you” you managed to say before a hot tear streamed down your face. You turned, letting go of a breath you had been holding for what felt like weeks. You marched away, willing your legs to take steps even though it felt like you suddenly forgot how to walk. You rounded a corner and stepped back so that the cool exterior of one of the buildings pressed against your back. You had half hoped to hear footsteps following after you; a cry of your name or something. Nothing. Dizziness filled your mind and you slid down the wall, hugging your legs to your chest as you wept into your knees. You knew you were being pathetic but really, you had believed that there was something there. Ushijima was always standoffish, but you had felt something kindled between you, a soft warmth that emitted every time his lips tugged into a small smile for you, or the way he’d listen to you and offer his advice sagely. Last week you had gone to a practise game of his and you’d cheered loudly enough to catch his attention. He had waved to you and even though the action was small it made you mindlessly happy for days. His cold demeanour meant that he didn’t do things like that for just anyone… But perhaps his tiny gestures were just that, insignificant. Maybe he was humouring you? Perhaps he smiled just because it was the basic kind thing to do; and he listened and offered advice because he wanted you to stop going on about your problems; maybe he just waved because he was being polite. The realisation sunk deep into you, seeping into your bones. You felt heavy and tired by the revelation. You stood up shakily, grasping at the brick wall behind you for support. You ended up grazing your hand a little, but the soreness felt good in a weird way. It brought your attention away from the turmoil in your heart. You made yourself walk home, wanting to take your time because you were afraid of having to confront the emotional maelstrom in you again. You felt like hell when you woke up the next morning. Your eyes burned, and when you rubbed them, you winced at the soreness. They felt swollen. Your nose hurt too from the constant blowing, and your mouth felt dry and stale. Pathetic was the first word in your mind. Followed quickly by sad, tragic, and pitiable. You had things to do today, places to be that weren’t your bedroom. You ran through the list of chores in your head: it was Saturday so you should change your sheets today, and clean the bathroom, and you needed to make a grocery list and go out to buy the stuff, and then you should get a head start on some work that would make Monday easier. You closed your eyes again and when you opened them two hours had gone by. You groaned into your pillow. Not only were you unfortunate, but you were also now behind on everything. A true mess. You pushed yourself to go take a shower, making the water colder than you usually liked in an attempt to shock you back to life.

You completed your tasks at home, but you felt lifeless doing it, like a zombie. The satisfaction that came with completing the chores didn’t come. You hoped the fresh air would help, and looked over your grocery list, feeling listless. You didn’t want to put any effort into the way you looked today, opting to throw on a pair of jeans that were ripped at the knee not because they came like that, but because they were old. Your hoodie was huge on you, but you had bought it with the deluded intention that this is what it would feel like to wear Ushijima’s. You looked at his clothes so fondly sometimes, jealous of the way they got to be so close to him. One night he had lent you his jacket because it was colder than the weather reports had predicted and you almost swooned. His jacket was sturdy and warm like him, and it smelt vaguely minty and clean like him. You had ended up falling asleep in his jacket, liking the way it felt like he was holding you.

The memory flooded back into your mind when you browsed the soap section, prompting your heart to race as you looked for his brand. When your eyes landed on it felt like a relief. A painful one, perhaps, but a relief all the same. Your hands hovered near the bottle. This was a way to stay close to him even when you couldn’t physically be with him. A link to the stoic man who had your heart. It was a little more expensive than the one you usually bought, and it stung that your normal brand was on sale, but you wanted to allow yourself one indulgence.

Outside the air was colder than last night. You’d heard something this morning about a cold spell hitting Tokyo as you folded your laundry, and you wished that you brought a scarf with you. Your arms ached from the weight of the bag in your hands. In the process of psyching yourself up to face the world you had forgotten your own bags and had to pay for some in the supermarket. The plastic, though biodegradable, felt thin in your cold hand. You gripped it tightly and turned to go home but your determination was interrupted by the thump of items hitting the ground.

“Fuck” you cursed under your breath, looking down at your groceries strewn about on the pavement. You could’ve cried there and then.

“I didn’t know you favoured this brand too” your blood turned to ice as your eyes snapped to the figure before you. He regarded the bottle calmly before starting to pick up the pack of spaghetti, and the bag of apples.

“U-Ushijima?” You hated that you stuttered but your mind was completely blank at this point. You couldn’t even fathom how you were able to form that many syllables.

“Here” he started to pile your things into his own empty bag.

“W-wait.” You put a handout to stop him, but he ignored you, continuing to put the rest of your things in his own grocery bag.

“It’s cold. Didn’t you hear the weather report?” He asked, finally standing to his full height. He looked down at you, head cocking to the side slightly like a spaniel. He began to unwind his scarf and placed it around your neck instead. The brush of his fingers against your bare neck made you shiver.

“What’re you doing?” you mumbled, looking down again. The sense of déjà vu was not lost on you as you regarded your everyday sneakers.

“I came to buy groceries” he said bluntly, and despite all the pain and anxiety coursing through you, you smiled. He was always so reliable.

“I was hoping I would run into you” he said after a beat, his hand held your chin making you gasp. He tilted it up, so you were no longer looking down, and this time he was meeting your gaze. His dark olive eyes bore into your own with an intensity that was difficult to hold.

“You don’t need to apologise or anything.”

“You’re wrong” he said “I do. I’m sorry.” You nodded at his words, disappointed once again that you were still holding out for him.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not, I…” he stopped himself, and pressed his lips into a firm line. You blinked a couple of times to make sure you were seeing things right. Ushijima was so candid all the time that the sight of him hesitating was new. He looked away momentarily.

“I return your affections” he said, and you stared in awe as a faint pink blush blossomed in his cheeks.

“You don’t have to say that.” He looked you in the eyes again, softer this time. His thumb absentmindedly began to stroke itself across your heated cheeks.

“Yes I do. I love you and I’m sorry I couldn’t say it yesterday.”

“Ushi…” you practically melted despite the chill in the air. He leaned down and pressed a kiss onto your forehead, making your head swim.

“Come” he said, letting go of your face in exchange for your hand “I’ll make dinner.” You made no attempt to protest against his wishes, instead letting him lead you in the direction of his own apartment.

“I love you too.”

[hes-writer]

If I Could Fly

Summary: y/n wants harry to come home

Warnings: angst and a bit of fluff

Word Count: 3522 words

Based on: Harry being really busy all of the time, like hardly coming home or spending time with the reader and one night the reader is at home listening to ‘If I Could Fly’ and she’s just wishing the words he sang in the song were true 

____

“I can’t believe you’re leaving before you even get here,” Y/N remarked, a hint of dismay enveloping her voice at Harry’s statement. Her fingers gripped the phone tightly, almost as if the device was the only connection between her and Harry.

He was miles and miles away from her, somewhere where the sun rose while the moon adamantly plastered itself on the night sky where she was. She wished countless times that maybe one day he would surprise her by coming home unexpectedly, his arms in an open gesture, bags laying heavy on his feet beside his worn Vans with the brightest smile on his face. His clothes would reek of the airport and travelling and his tired face drooping where the eyebags lay underneath his lashes. Harry would release a quiet breath of relief when his girlfriend trudged down the stairs with the same loving arms that he comes home to every time he returns, legs peeking out from an oversized hoodie that he left for her and an equally happy yet worn-out face that would glimmer once she saw him. 

But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, and it hasn’t happened in months.

“I just need some time alone, Y/N,” He replied with a soft tone, fatigue was taking over his every limb and was seeping his throat. The thought of passing out in a dreamless sleep in his plush hotel bed was too tempting. “Please understand,”

“I do understand that you need time alone. But I don’t get how you can go so long without seeing me,” She dug her fingertips into her bare thighs, limbs folded beneath their shared bed. The lamp on her bedside table was switched on to dimly cover the room in an orange-yellow hue. She eyed the shadows on the wall with a sad stare, chest slowly deflating at the thought that maybe he didn’t miss her at all. 

Harry sighed through the speakers, his lashes weighing heavy on his lids as another wave of tiredness washed over him. “I do miss you and I do want to see you,”

“Then why don’t you?”

Harry’s first world tour was a global success. Millions of his fans saw him from all around the world and it made Y/N very proud of him. The endless joy and happiness he brought to peoples’ faces made her admire his caring nature more and more each day. Sometimes she felt as though their relationship was in the back burner of his mind, but he proved time and time again that that wasn’t the case. Until now, that is. 

His tour had ended in September. Usually, he would be on the first plane back home to celebrate his achievements with Y/N, but work commitments smothered him and he never got the chance to visit her. And she did try her best to take time off work, but her studies didn’t agree with what she wanted. School was becoming increasingly difficult with the upper-division requirements being thrown at her, to be finished in the four-year timeframe it took to finish her degree. Y/N just couldn’t find the time to drop everything and spend a few days in a rented hotel just to see him--no matter how much she wanted to. 

Y/N thought to herself that she could handle a few more weeks without Harry, choosing to focus on essays and research papers that needed to be read and written. However, a few weeks turned into months, and soon the holidays passed by without as much as a glimpse of his face showering her. She didn’t want to throw him under the bus, but it was clear that Harry didn’t bear the same weight as she did. His excuses built every time they shared a call, the disconnection between them was obvious in the sense that their calls lasted only a few minutes--nothing like the hours they shared, drunk on wine, talking about anything and everything. 

The couple didn’t spend the holidays together as Harry was stuck, unable to find a flight back home and Y/N forgave him because it wasn't like he promised to spend it with her. It was okay until she caught the pictures swirling on social media. A massive grin plastered on his face as he partied on a yacht with Kendall--- a slap to the face, a shot of reality. Whatever it was, it broke Y/N down on Christmas day where she walked down the living room alone. The Christmas decorations mocking her lonely festivity, the tree decored with red and green ornaments and presents stuffed at the base. All invitations to spend the day were rejected in favour of spending it with Harry, hopelessly hoping that he would open the door with an apologetic face and a present in his hand. She was stupid to even let her fantasies take over reality. 

“Y/N,” Harry’s gruff remark of her name brought her back to the present. “I’m heading to bed now,”

“O-okay,” She stuttered out a response, not having much in her to argue more about why* they needed to see each other. “I love you,”

“Love ya’too,” The ringer clicked shut, signifying that he had hung up. The receiver emitted a dull tone as Y/N took the time to press the end button on her screen. 

______

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to play a playlist full of sad songs but Y/N was way past questioning her decisions when she was drunk on white wine and sadness. The dejection that floated in her lungs made it difficult to breathe--or maybe it was the heaving sobs she was about to release when the first few piano keys of If I Could Fly reverberated in the cold bedroom. The vinyl player that Y/N bought Harry added a sense of nostalgia to the record spinning continuously. A symbolism that Y/N couldn’t move on from ever-changing times and wavering discomfort that the world threw at her. She wasn’t able to adapt to his needs of having time for himself. At the same time, she wondered if he understood her apprehension--if her sense of abandonment was discernible in the way she practically begged him to come home. 

If I could fly, I'd be coming right back home to you I think I might give up everything, just ask me to

It hurt more to recall that Harry had written this song for her as a way to commemorate the same despondency he felt while he was away. The relentless urgency to drop everything and come home to her used to be something that laid all cards on the table and left no questions to be asked. Their actions were enough to show much they truly loved each other.  

Pay attention, I hope that you listen 'cause I let my guard down

Right now I'm completely defenceless

And when they were smothered with each other scents, legs tangling underneath the sheets as his strong arms wrapped around her waist like a taut bowtie did they see each other at their most vulnerable. It seemed as though Harry was drained from everything, having given his all to the fans, his everything to the ever-prying lenses of the media. His whole being to be extracted by questions and criticisms yet nothing could refill the void in his chest like Y/N did. Her love was powerful enough to have him addicted to the feeling. 

For your eyes only, I'll show you my heart

For when you're lonely and forget who you are

She reminisced their conversation on the blank wall in front of her, the flute of wine held by her unsteady fingers as she gulped another swallow of the burning liquid. The feeling of Harry’s soft palms draped over the expanse of her eyes, covering her sight even more so than her closed lids. His excited giggles tickling her ears as he directed her body in front of his, encouraging her to walk wherever he needed her to be. 

I'm missing half of me when we're apart

Now you know me, for your eyes only

Y/N could remember his words clearly; how he confessed his deepest desires for a love that only she could give, how he uttered the three words she longed to hear ever since she watched him flip a pancake on the pan, chin jutting over his shoulder when he heard a soft giggle after seeing the pancake fold on itself in a failed execution. He didn’t know who he was without her by his side, a piece of him seemingly swimming in a sea of the unknown when he failed to hear her voice on the daily. 

I've got scars even though they can't always be seen

And pain gets hard, but now you're here and I don't feel a thing

And when he opened up to her for the first time; about his past and the pain, he endured with previous relationships that left him with nothing but a reminder that most people only liked him because he was Harry Styles. Handsome, rich and a branch of connections; a mere business transaction to be stepped on to move up in the industry. 

I can feel your heart inside of mine, I feel it

I've been going out of my mind, I feel it

His hand grabbed her dainty wrists, lips puckering to press a gentle kiss at the crown of her head. Their chests faced against each other, his head ducking down to meet her eyes as he continued to place the flat of her hand against where hist heart lay. The hammering of his heart felt as though it would beat right out of his chest and Harry wondered if she could feel it through his thick skin, the layers of vulnerability being peeled back in a moment of openness and complete trust between the two of them. Y/N looked up at him with a confused face, brows quirking in a silent question until she felt it--the dull throb of his heart against her palm. 

You’ve got my heart in the palm of your hand, he admitted. 

Know that I'm just wasting time

And I hope that you don't run from me

The music drifted to silent background noise, Harry’s voice coming stronger with more emphasis on the words that meant the most to him. Y/N’s heart clenched; how could she run away when all she thought about was him? When all she needed was his figure beside her, warming her up when the morning breeze developed goosebumps on her skin? She thought about the times she relied heavily on him that her happiness didn’t exist without him; what a sad conclusion to her dumpster day. She didn’t want to flounder her brain with doubts, not when she could call Harry and get a direct answer from the source. 

Y/N shakily dialled his number, thumb drifting past the screen to see his profile pop up right before the keypad signalled that it was ringing.

And it rang until she got sent to voicemail. She tried again, hoping that he was too far away to hear the ringing of his phone and that he would answer soon before she deteriorated in on herself from overwhelming emotions of missing him and ruminating what this meant for their relationship. 

The dial tone screeched her ears, making Y/N want to throw the device across the room in frustration. Beep.

_____

Harry rested in his bed for the next few weeks, dizziness dissolving into thin air once his bum hit the soft mattress, instantly relaxing his tense muscles from the activities of the day. His face mask lay folded on the nightstand, his pink beanie crumpled from being stuffed in his coat pocket. He sighed softly as he was met with silence; the city was sleeping, the roads were empty with an odd couple of cars. The only thing running was his mind taking him to his last conversation with Y/N--the irritation they held for each other coupled with fatigue surely wasn’t the way he preferred to have ended the call before he left for Japan.

He wanted complete isolation from the outside world--as outside as it gets. No phones, no social media, no paparazzi following him to and fro his dinner to a restaurant. Living as a normal person even if it was only temporary. 

Still, he couldn’t help but eye his phone planted screen-down on the table. The lifeless device seeming odd when it wasn’t buzzing incessantly. 

“Fuck it,” Harry muttered, reaching over to press the power button for a few seconds, watching a bitten apple appear on the dark screen. “Come on,”

His breath got caught in his throat when his lock screen popped up; a picture of Y/N and him in their backyard. His face was scrunched in a smile while her pink lips pressed a chaste kiss on his skin, her hands squishing his cheeks as he jokingly tried to getaway. His arm was outstretched in a selfie pose, ending in teasing jokes about Harry’s inability to take such photos on his own. The phone buzzed in his hand, the tag of missed calls making Harry sit up straighter on the bed, followed by a line of “Voicemail(s)”.

Harry used his fingerprint to unlock the device, clicking on the green phone app to check out his messages. He rolled his eyes slightly at the automated machine instructing him to press whatever buttons until the keypad appeared and a message from Y/N started playing. 

“Why won’t you come home?” She wailed through the receiver, stuttered breaths muffling her words but still discernible. “Why won’t you come home to me, Harry?”

He clicked on the volume button, increasing the painful cries that Y/N released. The shakiness of her voice caused a chill to crawl up his spine; he couldn’t believe that she even thought of saying that to him. Of course, he wanted to come to see her. 

But not right now. 

“Don’t you want to come home anymore?” 

She sniffled a bit, ceasing her dry sobs as she tried to control her breaths. In the background, he could hear the piano chords of a special song that made the ache in his chest much more prominent. 

“I understand. I get it,” Her quiet confession caused him to strain his ears further, almost too quiet to hear. “But I miss you and it hurts,’

“It hurts too much and I’m not sure if I can take much more,” The pain in her voice was too much to bear for Harry, “I haven’t seen you in so long. It’s all my fault,”

Harry shook his head, curls catching his temples as he desperately tried to deny her words as if it would do anything. “No, no it’s not, Y/N”

“I should’ve flown out to see you. I should’ve tried harder to understand. I should’ve been more prepa--,” Beep.

He hurriedly tapped on the next message, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He had barely unpacked his items, his toiletries scattered in the bathroom but everything else was otherwise intact. 

“Remember this song?” 

He nodded, hearing the melody in the background. 

“Do you s-still feel the same?”

Harry nodded once again, cradling the phone between his neck and shoulder. His large hand shoved his electric toothbrush and toothpaste in his toiletries bag. He sheathed his head in the pink beanie, face mask elastically going around his head. He slipped on some socks and his black Vans. He made a quick conversation with his friend who had generously let him stay in his home, for the time being, informing him that he would be leaving earlier than planned. 

The ride from the house to the airport seemed like the slowest time he had ever experienced, his body itching to hold Y/N’s frail and pliant body in his arms. The taxicab made great headway for him to book the next flight home, his small amount of baggage making it easier to go through security and the checkpoint. He felt a couple of stares on him as he sat near the boarding gate, but the people kept a respectful distance from him, giving him shy smiles and timid waves to which he returned despite the turmoil in his heart building with each passing second that he spent away from Y/N, 

The next announcement informed him that his flight would be boarding soon, making him stand up and stretch his limbs, passport and boarding pass on hand for a breezy exchange. He walked the tunnel with a heavy heart, his duffel bag feeling denser on his shoulder. Harry greeted the flight attendant with a small smile before plopping on his designated seat. He sighed heavily watching the runway blink with various lights. 

His mind was dizzy with words to say to Y/N when he came home but he knew that there was only one thing that Y/N wanted; honesty. 

_____

His driver welcomed him with a polite nod and tired smile, the early hours of the morning paired with the unforeseen circumstance causing a pang of slight guilt on Harry’s part but he couldn’t quite focus on that when he was practically the closest he had ever been to Y/N for the first time in months. His jaw twitched as he refrained from clenching it at the thought. 

The car slowed down to a stop, his thoughts distracting him from the drive to the airport and to his home. “Thank you, James,”

The man nodded in appreciation, “Welcome home, sir. Been a long time, huh?”

Harry felt his eyes gloss over at the emphasis, “Yeah,”

He exited the vehicle, breathing in deeply as he took in the sight of his home where Y/N would be. His feet couldn’t take him to the door fast enough, tripping over the gravel a few times before eventually reaching the front door. 

The house was eerily silent, a blanket of coldness lapping at him when it would usually scorch him with comforting warmth and the scent of vanilla cookies. He toed off his sneakers, curling his toes from being confined for hours. He ascended their staircase where their bedroom was, noting the way the Christmas tree was still up, yet the presents remained unopened.

“Y/N?” He whispered, his timbre hesitant yet excited with building anticipation of seeing his love for the first time in quite some time. He found her curled up in their bed, dressed in his frequently worn ‘donuts’ hoodie, her feet clad in his black Nike socks. Y/N even had one of his basketball shorts draped over her waist, his red patterned bandana clutched between her small hands. 

Her cheeks were pink with dry tears staining the skin, lashes curled with exhaustion. Harry mirrored the frown on her lips, the crease between her brows deepening until her mouth choked on a sob. She was crying in her sleep. 

He dropped his bag softly on the ground, slippery socks causing him to fall by her side, barely catching his weight before it crushed her and jerked her awake. Tears cascaded from her closed lids, silently muttering his name.

“Shhh, I’m here,” He caressed her hair, pressing kisses on her temple. He laid against the headboard, pulling her pliant body closer until her head met his chest. “Don’t cry. ‘M home,”

Her chest rattled with a breath, lurching her body awake. She awoke with a gasp, frantically looking around to take in her surroundings, realizing that she was still where she drifted off last night. 

“Hey,” Harry quipped, watching Y/N with glazed eyes, catching salty liquid on his waterline.

Her head snapped upwards, seeing Harry’s face staring down at her. Y/N opened her mouth to speak but no words escaped. She fought against his grip, almost melting at his arms wrapped around her body. Her knees straddled his waist, burying her face against the junction of his neck and shoulder, smearing the skin with wet tears. Her hands enclosed his thin waist into a compact hug, pulling him as close as he could go to hers. She was afraid that he might disappear if she let go.

“You’re here,” Y/N sobbed, hauling back to press her palms against his wet cheeks, green eyes gazing back at her. “You’re home. With me,”

She leaned in for a heated kiss, whimpering at the touch of his soft lips on hers. Their mouths moulding in a searing act of love that relieved both of their chests in silent agreement that they were okay. 

Harry pulled away, knocking his head gently against the towering headboard, his breathing heavily from the passionate kiss, “I’m here. I’m home. With you,” 

________

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[writesowhatnext]

crush: a noun and a verb // fred weasley

Summary: The reader works at The Three Broomsticks and has a bit of a crush on Fred. Well, more than a bit. Worse still, he knows it and he is one cocky bastard.

Request: Hi I’m not sure if you’re taking requests rn, but if you are, then I have an idea for a Fred Weasley x reader where the reader works at the three broomsticks and has a crush on Fred. He knows this already and purposely goes there (sometimes with George and Lee) to tease and annoy her. Ty, I love your writings x

A/N: this was such a cute request

Reader: unspecified

Warnings: swearing :) and also idk playful hitting I guess? The word abuse + bit of a steamy make out (not too steamy)

Fred Weasley was a menace to society, The Three Broomsticks, and, on a personal note, your entire existence.

You remembered the first time you met him all too well. You were behind the bar, somewhat overprepared for the influx of Hogwarts students you’d been warned about when two boys in robes sauntered in. They were obviously twins, handsome too and around your age with red hair and freckled skin and a distinct air of trouble. They laughed to each other as they walked over; one of them leaning on the bar to get your attention. What you didn’t realise until you got closer to the boy at the bar was how tall he was, or how lovely his dark eyes were.

“You alright there?” he asked, a charming smile on his face. You could feel your face heat up and whether he could see it or not, something about your bashful side-eye or immediate swallow to dislodge the lump in your throat gave away how nervous you were.

“What? Fine, yeah. Yes. You?” you blurted out. His eyebrows rose in amused surprise and you had to blink a few times before you remembered what you were being paid for. “Sorry, what can I get you today?”

His grin only widened when he saw how flustered you were, clearly enjoying that it was all because of him.

That was only the start of Fred’s monopoly on your attention. The second time he came into the pub, it was a sunny day and most students had gone elsewhere – the cosy atmosphere of The Three Broomsticks not a big seller in the sunshine. Not Fred and George though, they didn’t seem to care.

When they walked in, you couldn’t help but consider how attractive they were. Even after meeting them only once, though, you could tell them apart. You could tell which one had gotten you flustered at the bar and as you sat by the kitchens, ready for table service, it was hard to deny how attracted you were to him. Something about his confidence and the easy way he leant across the bar and the way he’d looked at you stirred something inside of you and whilst it wasn’t unpleasant, per se, you did not enjoy having a crush. You sighed, dropping your head into your hands and groaning in frustration. You had to curse yourself really: you get a new job and the first thing you do is go weak at the knees for a boy? Shameful, you thought.

“Y/N,” your boss said, handing you a plate of chips through the kitchen window. “I don’t pay you to sit there and think about how hard it is to be a teenager. Table twelve.”

Your expression turned dry at his words, but you didn’t say anything, only rolling your eyes when he couldn’t see as you picked up the plate and headed over to table twelve: a table crowded by two red-headed gentlemen with matching coats, butterbeer pints and, well, faces.

“Chips?”

You stood next to them; acutely aware of their eyes on you. The one that you’d spoken to before stared at you for a moment before a spark of recognition lit up his eyes and a smile lifted his features.

“That’s us,” they both said at the same time, moving their pint glasses out of the way. You placed the plate down gently, very much eager to leave without making a fool out of yourself by doing something stupid like throwing chips everywhere.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?”

Somehow, hearing him speak the second time only worsened your reaction. Your face felt like it was on fire and as you opened your mouth, every single word you’d ever known died on your tongue. You nodded. He noticed your stiff jaw and your avoidance of eye contact and he wet his lips, smirking.

“Well, we’re regulars so I think we better introduce ourselves; don’t you?” he stuck his hand out and for a moment, you just stared at his outstretched palm and debated whether it was good for you financially to leg it out of the pub. “I’m Fred.”

With a gulp, you wiped your palm quickly on your apron, hoping he didn’t notice, before you shakily grabbed his hand. His smile widened and you tried not to concentrate on it too much, already far too aware of his warm fingers surrounding yours. When he let go, the colder air of the pub was nice. It would be a lie, though, to say you didn’t miss the contact.

“And I’m George,” his brother said, folding his arms and looking at you with what could only be described as a shit-eating grin, a very different vibe to his brother. He made no movement to shake your hand and you were grateful. Given how completely nervous you were, you were sure it would’ve clammed up again instantly, had he offered.

“Y/N,” you nodded, smiling a little. Your nervous stuttering and sweating were starting to get on your nerves and you were keen to get a grip.

“You look a bit nervous there, Y/N,” Fred said, feigning mock concern. “Are you alright?”

In that second, you’d never been simultaneously more pissed off and attracted to someone. That cheeky bugger, you thought, teasing you for your crush on him. Annoyingly, his brashness only worked in his favour as you found yourself all the more attracted to him for it.

“Of course,” you tried to keep your voice level. You were failing if George’s amused smile was anything to go by. “Nothing to be nervous about, is there?”

You pursed your lips slightly, focusing on Fred for a fraction too long. If you’d looked any longer, though, you would’ve seen interest flicker in his eyes.

“If you’ll excuse me, gents, I’ve got to get back to work.”

As soon as you began to walk back to the kitchen, Fred whipped his head around to watch you with ardent curiosity. When he turned back, George was sending him a very deadpan, very knowing look.

After that, Fred came in every single weekend. Mostly, he came with George, but occasionally he would come alone. Sometimes he brought others with him. Many times, he bustled into the pub with a whole gang of students; one you recognised as Harry Potter, the boy from the papers. One very chilly day in December was no different. The pub was full of students trying to get in from the cold and Fred, one of them, as full of energy, as usual, steered a younger girl to the bar by her shoulders. She was much shorter than him but she had the same red hair and freckles. She was a great deal prettier too, mind you.

“Hello, my dear, dear Y/N,” he said, leaning on the bar as you cleaned a pint glass with a rag.

“Fred, what a pleasure.”

Your tone may have been sarcastic but you couldn’t hide the fondness that leaked through. It had been so long and yet you still couldn’t shake your crush. Of course, it didn’t help, though, that Fred never let you forget it.

“Y/N, this is my sister, Ginny,” Fred pointed at the girl vaguely, barely taking his eyes off of you as his elbows settled on the sticky wood beneath them. “Ginny, this is Y/N – the most beautiful barkeep in the world.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, used to his teasing. He always did this. He always complimented you to try to get a rise and, despite yourself, you couldn’t help your reaction to him. He thrived off your awkwardly shy expressions and shaky movements and your responses to his compliments spurred him on the most.

“I’m so sorry he’s your brother,” you said to Ginny, shooting Fred a dull glance. Her eyebrows, which had been tightly knitted together in a frown, lifted immediately and a smile spread across her lips.

“Me too, don’t worry. You get used to it,” she said. Her voice was surprisingly hardy for such a small girl and you wondered, for a second, what horrors Fred and George had put her through. You both rolled your eyes as Fred mocked hurt and with an awkward but sweet wave, she left the bar, probably in search of her friends.

“How about a free butterbeer for your favourite customer?” Fred asked, smiling cheekily. You bit the inside of your cheek, rolling your eyes again. You played along though, knowing that he enjoyed messing with you and you enjoyed, well, any time you could spend with him. You leant on the opposite side of the bar; eyebrows furrowed as you pretended to look around. You tried to ignore the close proximity between your upper arms.

“I don’t see Hermione Granger anywhere?”

He choked a laugh, unable to contain his toothy grin, obviously pleased at your answer.

“Now that’s just plain cruel.”

“And you deserve it.”

“Here I was, thinking you liked me.”

You narrowed your eyes at his sad puppy dog expression, barely noticing George approach. “And why would I like you?” you replied far too quickly. There was an edge to your voice, but you hoped he didn’t hear it.

“Very defensive. Did you hear that, George?”

“I did indeed, Fred.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Y/N fancied me or something.”

You rolled your eyes, pouring a pint of butterbeer and pushing it over to Fred.

“It’s on the house if you piss off.”

Fred stood up dramatically straight, saluting you and shooting you a wink before walking over to where his sister had disappeared to, somewhere by Harry Potter and an assortment of other faces you recognised. The wink sent your mind into overdrive and with a marginally annoyed huff, you shook your head to try to dispel the heat from your cheeks; you hoped no one noticed it in the warmth of the pub.

“You know he fancies you too, right?” George asked, reminding you he was still there. He leant away from the bar on one of the beams holding the ceiling up.

“Pfft,” you reach for a glass, pouring George a pint. “Yeah, and I’m the seeker for the Holyhead Harpies.”

“Y/N, Fred’s dragged me in here nearly every bloody Hogsmeade trip for the last three years. Do you honestly think he’d do that only for a laugh?”

You shot him a dry look as you placed the pint on the counter.

“Fine, maybe he would. But not for you.”

You watched George fish through his pockets for some coins before offering them to you. You just shook your head, folding his fingers towards him and pushing the money away.

“He really does like you; he’s just a muppet that doesn’t know how to stop taking the piss. Think about it, yeah?”

Your nod as he left was absentminded, and you couldn’t help but stew a little on his words.

It wasn’t until you were ending your shift about a week later that you saw Fred again. He was wearing his Hogwarts uniform when he barrelled through the door and you nearly didn’t recognise him. You couldn’t deny he looked good and even as he stalked towards you, his snow-covered shoes ruining the floor you had just mopped, you had to admire him a little. Something about the rolled-up sleeves of his jumper and the red and gold of his tie was a good look for him and you could barely focus until he stopped right in front of you, almost trampling the mop in your hand.

“You know it’s not just a joke, right?”

It was then that you realised how serious he looked, and – wait, shouldn’t he be wearing a robe?

“Are you not cold?”

“Blood freezing, actually, but let’s not avoid the question, sweetheart.”

Too concerned about the weather and his lack of appropriate attire, you didn’t even register his words. You just grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him over to a seat by the fireplace. Without another word, grateful that everyone else had left for the day, you fetched him a blanket, tossing it around his shoulders before sitting down opposite him.

“What are you doing here? Are you even allowed here? Won’t you get in trouble?”

With the blanket huddled around his head, a boyish grin shaped his features and your insides twisted at how cute he looked.

“So, you care if I’m I get into trouble?”

You rolled your eyes, thumping him with the back of your hand. He rubbed his arm but his smile didn’t budge.

“I wanted to see you,” he admitted, an uncharacteristically shy look on his face.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Blimey, is there an echo in here?”

You went to hit him again but he moved away before you could. He tilted his head from side to side as if debating something.

“We were packing to go back home for the holidays and George told me that you think it’s all just a joke.”

“What’s all just a joke?”

You knew you were probably being dim but you didn’t understand what he was talking about in the slightest – you hadn’t expected to see him again until January and whilst that didn’t particularly fill you with joy, you’d made your peace with it.

“Christ, you are being thick today,” he said, barking a laugh. “Us. You think we’re just a joke. Me and you.”

Us? Your stomach turned inside out at the word. You hadn’t realised Fred thought there was a ‘you and him’. When you didn’t say anything, Fred looked down, messing with hte edges of the blanket between his fingers.

“And I couldn’t have you thinking that could I? So, I came down here-“

“Without a coat.”

“Without a coat,” he rolled his eyes. “Because I had to make sure you knew.”

“Knew what?”

You could feel your heartbeat in your ears and whilst you were partly sure of what he meant, you needed him to say it. Knowing your luck, you’d end up connecting the dots wrong and making a thunderbird out of a bowtruckle.

“That all those jokes and stuff-“ he looked at you then, letting out a humourless laugh. “I fancy you, Y/N, okay. In an actually quite big and honestly quite inconvenient way.  And I realised, thanks to George actually, that you didn’t know that.”

You didn’t speak for a moment, mouth dropping open.

“You what?”

Your voice was much louder and much more incredulous than you’d intended. “You’ve been teasing me for bloody years and what? You actually feel the same?”

“Well,” he said with a small grin. “I wouldn’t say the same, you do have very strong-“

You moved to hit him with the back of your hand again when he caught your wrist and pulled you toward him. The blanket shrugged off his back as you were pulled over him, your faces dangerously close together.

“That’s practically domestic abuse.”

You could feel his breath on your lips.

“You know,” he wet his lips slowly, eyes flicking down to yours. “I’m quite glad I came,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with his free hand as you hovered over him. “Means I get to do this.”

His hand moved from behind your ear to your cheek and then he was kissing you. You would’ve been embarrassed at how loudly you sighed into his mouth had he not smiled, his hand abandoning your wrist to grab your waist, pulling you toward him so you were straddling his lap. Then his hands were everywhere, skimming up and down from your waist to your back to your hips; you could barely keep track as he stole your breath. The warmth of it all was perfect. His tongue lapped at your lips and your hands disappeared into his hair, pulling him closer. Against all that’s sane and good in the world, you both pulled away, breathing heavily. His hands settled on your waist as he stared up at you, eyes blown wide.

“Careful now,” he said, a smirk lifting the corner of his swollen lips. “Carry on like that, and I might think you fancy me or something.”

“You’re so fucking lucky I like you.”

And then you kissed him again.

[liberty-barnes]

The Swear Jar

Part 1 of The Jar Series

Mob Boss!Tom Holland x Single Mom!Reader

Prompt: “I've never said a single fucking swear word in my whole damn life”

Warnings: swearing obviously, Tom’s a mob boss so there’s that, there’s like, one sexual innuendo but also ??? not really??? idk

Word Count: 4k (i really need to learn to write short things)

Estimated Reading Time: 16 minutes

A/N: It’s the pic guys, I can’t help it.

Edit: Wow, you guys actually liked this! So since many of you asked, a part will be coming out soon, maybe more, we’ll see. So if you wanna be added to my “The Swear Jar” Taglist, just ask me or add yourself directly through the link in my bio!

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

The bell above the door to the diner chimed and you perked up, smiling brightly at the young teenage couple.

“Gracie! Stella! It’s so good to see you again!”

The girls greeted you with the same amount of enthusiasm and proceeded to order their usual meal.

“Your hair’s really pretty Stella! You look like a mermaid now!”

“Thanks, Millie! I took your advice and went with blue instead of purple.”

The young girl smiled and captured the couple’s attention by showcasing her current work in progress.

Millicent Rose (Y/l/n) was your five-year-old daughter. She had brown hair, falling on her shoulders in nice large curls, and big (y/e/c) eyes, a perfect match to yours. She loved drawing (the diner walls were crawling with her masterpieces) and pretty hair, especially if it was soft. 

Her bubbly and fearless personality sometimes frightened you, but you mostly came to terms with the fact that your daughter was a social butterfly and took full advantage of the small diner to interact with as many people as she could.

You watched with a fond smile as Millie explained what she had been drawing to the girls, mentioning every little detail while they praised her good work. The young brunette had a gift to make anyone love her.

Soon enough, their large milkshake to share was finished and Lou, the owner and cook, was all done with the food so the girls sat down at a booth and Millie went back to drawing, little feet dangling off the chair and little brows furrowed in concentration. 

As you were refiling Mr and Mrs Lee’s drinks, the bell chimed once more and four men walked in dressed in stylish suits, much too fancy for this place. They sat down at a booth and started talking while you took a deep calming breath.

Oh, fuck me.

You took your notepad and walked over to them, a much too fake smile on your face.

“Good morning gentlemen, what can I get you?”

The table quieted down and you made eye contact with who you knew to be the leader.

“I’ll have a burger with fries and a strawberry milkshake.”

One of the twins said.

“I’ll have the same but with a chocolate milkshake instead.”

The other one added.

“Vegi burger and a coke, please.”

At least the blonde one had some manners. 

Your eyes lifted from the notepad to the leader once again.

“And for you?”

You did your best to ignore the slight tremble in your voice.

“Bacon cheeseburger, fries and a coke, darling.”

“Right away.”

You got out of there as soon as possible, sparing a glance at your daughter to make sure she was still sitting at the counter before entering the kitchen with a panicked expression on your face.

“Lou…”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You’ve got an order… for the Hollands…”

“Well, shit.”

The Holland family was the oldest and most successful mob in London, extremely rich, dangerous, and seemingly untouchable.

Harry and Sam Holland, the twins, were rumoured to have been behind the Burtons’ death, another famous family known for drug trafficking and other crimes.

Harrison Osterfield, the second in command, was a close family friend, accused of drug trafficking, illegal weapons selling, and other such crimes, though the charges all dropped before the first hearing even took place.

And finally, Thomas Holland, the leader. Arrested for multiple murders, arson, extortion, and a long list of other felonies, but never convicted.

Everyone was scared of them, and the fact that they were eating here was not good for business. 

You ignored the tightness in your chest in favour of helping Lou prepare their food, hoping to do it as fast as possible so the group could leave.

Meanwhile, at the booth, Tom was rolling his eyes at his brothers and friend’s stupidity. 

“Okay, we get it, she’s hot, but you don’t have to talk about it all the fucking time.”

Millie turned her head in their direction and scowled. She stretched a bit to the other side of the counter to take the transparent jar and got down from her chair, making her way to their booth, stomping a bit, which made her Sketchers light up.

The diner watched with curious (and slightly frightened, for the Lees) eyes as the little girl climbed onto the booth next to Harrison, one leg after the other, and kneeled next to the blonde, setting her elbow on the table and stretching so the transparent jar was now sitting in front of Tom.

He looked at it: a lid-less mason jar with a pink bow and right in the front, in a child’s handwriting and pink glittery letters were the words 'Swear Jar’.

“You owe a pound.”

He lifted his head to look at the girl.

“I beg your pardon?”

“When someone says a bad word they have to put a pound in the jar. You said a bad word so you owe a pound.”

“I’ve never said a single fucking swear word in my whole damn life!”

“That’s two more so you have to put three pounds in.”

“Yeah, Tom, put the money in.”

Harrison had his arms around the girl and a smug smile on his face, evidently taking a liking to the young brunette.

“Shut the fuck up Haz, you curse more than I do!”

“Four.”

“Shit.”

That one was not on purpose.

“Five.”

“Okay, okay, jeez, hold on.”

He took out his wallet and took his only five-dollar bill amid all the hundreds.

“Just gonna put the money in this stupid jar.”

“Six.”

“Wha- stupid’s not a swear word!”

“I’m not allowed to say it so yes, it is.”

Tom rummaged around his wallet for a stray pound, reluctantly putting a hundred in after finding nothing.

“Does that mean I’m allowed to say ninety-nine swear words?”

“No paying in advance, everything that’s not the money you owe is a donation.”

“To what foundation?”

“The ‘get Millie new glitter pens’ foundation”

She answered with a smirk and everyone -bar Tom- was pretty much crying at seeing their boss be told what to do by a five-year-old.

“Man, you are so screwed!”

“That’s one pound for you, Mister!”

“Oh shit, right!”

“Two…”

Harry took out his wallet (still laughing his arse off, mind you) and didn’t even try to look for the two pounds, simply putting in a hundred.

Millie’s eyes were focused solely on Tom’s hair. She climbed on top of Harrison, her pink tulle skirt flying behind her and stood on the seat next to the brunette, her hands immediately flying to his hair.

“You have very pretty hair. It’s really soft.”

“Thank you, darling.”

She hummed and kept playing with the soft strands.

“My name’s Tom, and these are my twin brothers Harry and Sam, and my best friend, Haz.”

She looked around for a while, not answering, seemingly lost in thought until she looked back at him and her sparkling (y/e/c) eyes focused on his brown ones.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy. I’m Millie.”

“T-Tommy?”

Sam stuttered out between peels of laughter.

“I don’t like Tom, Tommy’s better. Why are you so shocked Twin Nice?”

Harry looked appalled.

“Why's he Twin Nice?”

“Because you said a bad word and he didn’t, so he’s Twin Nice and you’re Twin Naughty.”

Sam did a little victory dance, bragging about his new nickname to his twin.

The little girl sat down on Tom’s lap and started to play with the black ring on his finger.

“What am I, then?”

She looked up to Harrison from in between Tom’s fingers, still playing with the thick band.

“You’re Thor cause you have pretty eyes and you look really strong.”

To say that the blonde was pleased would be an understatement.

“You, little lady, are my new best friend. We need to come here more often.”

Millie smiled and went back to observing the ring.

“Does this mean you’re married?”

Tom chuckled and shook his head slightly.

“No, it means that I’m a part of the Holland family, like them.”

Everyone around the table showed theirs, a symbol of their high status in the mob.

“So you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Do you live with your mommy?”

“No, I live with these dumbasses in a big house.”

She pushed the swear jar towards him and gave him what could only be described as the 'Disappointed Mom’ look.

“Do you like it?”

“Kind of, sometimes they get on my nerves and I wish they’d rot in Hell, but yeah, it’s not too bad.”

She slapped his hand in reprimand and he internally cursed himself.

“Don’t you miss your mommy?”

“A little, but I see my parents every Sunday for family dinner.”

He answered after placing yet another bill in the jar.

“Parents?”

“Yeah, my mum and dad.”

She hummed.

“I wish I had a dad.”

The boys all stiffened. 

Well, that escalated quickly.

Tom cleared his throat, measuring his words before speaking, for once in his life.

“Do you know what happened to your dad?”

“Mommy says he left cause he wasn’t good like her. She says it’s okay, though, cause we only need each other but my friend Lilly has a mommy and a daddy and she told me that sometimes when her mommy’s sad or tired he’ll do all the grown-up stuff like cook and read her a story while her mommy rests and she’s happier that way. I want my mommy to be happy like that too.”

For Tom, it felt like his cold, dead heart was starting to beat again. This little angel sitting on his lap was asking for something most children already had, not for herself, but for her mother.

“You’re a really good person, Millie.”

“If you stopped saying so many bad words you’d be one too, Tommy.”

The boys laughed yet again and they continued talking for a little while, refraining from any work-related issues for the sake of their newest addition, choosing instead to discuss sports and fighting over who’d be on cleaning duty that Sunday. Three more bills made their way to the jar during that particular discussion, one from each boy (bar Sam because he was on cooking duty, as always), and for once they allowed themselves to relax and simply be, instead of always worrying.

You got out of the kitchen with the men’s orders ready and looked at the end of the counter, planning to check on Millie before walking over to the mobsters’ table. Your brows furrowed when you didn’t find her and you immediately looked towards the girls’ table or the Lees’, finding she wasn’t there either.

“Mommy, over here!”

You followed your child’s voice and your eyes widened once you saw her sitting on the leader’s lap. The smiling leader’s lap.

You quickly made your way to their booth, placing their orders in front of them without even taking your eyes off your daughter.

“Millicent Rose! What have I told you about bothering people when they’re in their booths?”

She looked guilty for half a second but immediately perked up again, ready to defend herself.

“Not to, but Mommy, he said a bad word so I had to take the swear jar to him.”

“And why, pray tell, are you sitting in the gentleman’s lap?”

“His name’s Tommy and he said he didn’t mind and this way I can talk to Thor, Twin Nice and Twin Naughty better.”

Tommy, Thor, Twin Nice, and Twin Naughty?

“Oh, fuck me.”

Millie’s jaw dropped open. She’d never heard you swear before.

“You owe a pound, Mommy.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.”

You pulled a pound from your pocket and put it in, eyes widening at the amount of money in the jar.

“How in the world?”

“I didn’t have singles so I just put hundreds in. Apparently, it’s a donation to the 'Get Millie new glitter pens’ foundation.”

You set the jar down and shook your head in disbelief.

“I am never letting Harley babysit you ever again.”

She pouted and slumped down, arms crossed adorably in front of her.

“Now come on, let the gentlemen eat their lunch in peace and come get yours.”

She cuddled up to Tom more than before, burying her head in his chest and fisting his shirt, and shaking her head in protest.

“Millie, come on, let’s go. I’m so sorry for the bother sir.”

“It’s no problem, she’s welcome to say for however long she wants.”

The brunette smiled at your daughter and then at you, before the man on his right interrupted.

“Besides, she’s very entertaining. It’s nice to see someone else call Tom out on his bullshit.”

You and Millie threw the blonde matching glares while Tom just pushed the jar towards him.

“You owe a pound, Haz”

“Excuse you Tommy, my name’s Thor.”

He then turned to you with a smug smile and attitude.

“Cause I have pretty eyes like him and look very strong. Don’t you agree with your daughter… (Y/n)?”

He read your name tag and smiled charmingly while you pursed your lips, looking him up and down. You then looked at your little girl.

“You sure?”

“Well, who else has pretty blue eyes?”

“Captain America.”

She light up right away and straightened herself.

“Right! And he looks like Captain America when he was tiny! Thanks, Mommy!”

She then turned to Harrison with a gigantic smile on her face.

“You’re Tiny America now.”

The whole table -bar Haz- laughed and you had to bite your lip not to laugh too, instead linking your hands and looking at the clock.

“Come on Millie, it’s time to eat.”

“Can I eat here with Tommy, please?”

“If you eat here with Tommy I won’t be able to make sure you eat your veggies.”

The man’s heart stuttered when you used his nickname, a strange sense of happiness overcoming him.

“Tommy can check.”

“Mm… I’m not sure if he can check you ate them. He’s not used to your sneakiness.”

“What if I pinky promise to eat my veggies and eat a banana for dessert instead of ice cream?”

It was a struggle to get her to eat fruits and veggies. You usually had to settle for one or the other, so when she spontaneously decided to eat both, you jumped at the opportunity, mob be damned.

“Deal! But no annoying the boys.”

She smiled and nodded, settling comfortably on Tom’s lap, waiting for her food. You took out her plate of chicken nuggets, fries, and green beans, chocolate milkshake to wash it down.

You tried not to let the butterflies in your stomach distract you from your job but the way Tom smiled at your daughter and praised her when she ate all her veggies in a row, wanting to get it over with, made your heart ache, the longing for someone still very much present.

“Have a nice meal.”

You made eye contact with the brunette and blushed at the smile he sent you before waving goodbye at the Lees. The teenage couple had left a bit earlier so the mobsters were now your last customers of the day.

You wiped the kitchen counters and said goodbye to Lou, assuring him that you’d close up by yourself. As soon as he left, you took a deep breath and sighed, unable to stop your smile when you heard your daughter’s laugh carrying through the wall separating you from the group.

“Mommy, we’re done!”

You straightened up and schooled your features before walking over to them, taking away their plates while asking if Millie behaved and if they wanted dessert. The answer to both questions was a yes and so you came back a little while later with chocolate pudding for the twins, caramel ice cream for Harrison, a banana split for Tom, and a miniature one for Millie.

“Since you behaved so nicely you get a little sweetness with your banana.”

Her eyes sparkled and she smiled brightly at you.

“You’re the best mommy ever! I love you!”

“Love you too, baby.”

You turned around, ready to leave, when a voice stopped you.

“Why don’t you sit down with us for a bit? I’m pretty sure that if you wipe that table down one more time you’ll remove the paint.”

You blushed but complied, sitting down next to Harrison and watching as your daughter ate her dessert quickly and quietly, wincing from time to time because of brain freezes. As soon as she was done, she reached for Tom’s right hand. He switched the hand that held the spoon, eating with his left so that Millie could play with the ring on his finger.

Unfortunately for him, he had a bit of trouble eating with his non-dominant hand while holding a child on his lap, leading to a bit of ice cream falling on his shirt.

“Ah, fu-”

You shot him a glare that made him change courses immediately.

“-dge. Fudge.”

Millie clapped and gave him a big, approving smile.

“See, Mommy? He’s making progress!”

“Indeed he is, darling.”

“Oh, this is fucking hilarious!”

The young girl gasped, mouth open comically wide and utter betrayal swimming in her eyes.

“I thought you were nice.”

Sam realized his mistake as soon as she spoke, covering his mouth with his hand as if to stop any more of the offending words from leaving it.

“You owe five pounds.”

“What? Why? I only said one swear word!”

She shook her head in disapproval, arms crossed in front of her chest, and pushed the jar towards him.

“You made me believe you were nice so your trickster-y will cost you four extra pounds.”

You shook your head, smile firmly plastered on your face as you watched Sam pull out a hundred dollar bill with a pout on his lips. It was quite endearing, really.

“So, (Y/n), tell us about you.”

You locked eyes with the brunette once again, piercing gaze seemingly looking through you.

“I’m afraid there’s not much to tell, Mr Holland. I’m not a very interesting person.”

Your voice was soft, your words calculated. You knew that these men could kill you in the blink of an eye.

“No uninteresting person could have raised such a perfect little angel.”

He smirked and Millie looked at you with a smug smile.

“See, he said I was an angel.”

Life be damned, it’s not worth living if your daughter has an ego the size of Russia. That would most definitely come back to bite you in the ass.

“Yeah, that’s cause he hasn’t had to deal with you in all your nightly glory.”

She put her tongue out and snuggled deeper into Tom’s chest.

“Well, for one, how did you find yourself working here?”

He got the conversation back on you and you felt slightly intimidated with the whole table’s eyes on little old you.

“Customers are nice, I earn enough money for us to get by, owner’s nice, the school’s at the end of the street, and Millie gets to stay with me when she’s not there.”

Even though he was focused on you, you noticed the way he held your daughter close to his chest, his bigger frame completely enveloping her smaller one. She still hadn’t let go of his hand and kept playing with the ring on his finger. Seeing how calm and caring he was being with your daughter calmed you down and the more questions you answered, the more comfortable you became.

“How can you work at a dinner and not like vanilla milkshakes?”

Sam looked horrified at that, and you just shrugged dismissively.

“I never really liked when vanilla was too present. Like, if you used it to just enhance everything else you know, make it taste better, then sure, but just vanilla isn’t really my style.”

Tom took a sharp breath in and tried to stop his mind from wandering at the possible double meaning of your words. Instead, he chose to focus on the little girl on his lap.

Until he noticed she was asleep, that is.

He smiled a little and shifted her so she was resting more comfortably on his lap. Unfortunately for him, that caught your attention.

“Oh my, is she asleep? I’m really sorry.”

“No worries, though we should probably get her to bed so she doesn’t wake up with a stiff neck.”

For the umpteenth time, you pushed down the butterflies upon hearing him say 'we’ and being so careful with your daughter.

You took the remaining dishes and went to the kitchen, putting them in the wash and turning on the machine, leaving it to run so tomorrow morning you’d be able to put everything away. You went back in to clean the booth and Tom practically shoved a hundred dollar bill in your hand, ignoring your protests.

He waited for you by the door while you finished closing up, and you extended your arms towards him when you finished.

“Thank you for everything today, but you must be getting tired, I can take her from here.”

He gently pushed your arms down.

“Let me take you home, please, I don’t like the idea of you having to carry her all on your own.”

You hesitantly nodded and he guided you to his car. It’s only then that you noticed the other three had left. You settled on the passenger side of his black Audi and he handed you Millie, closing the door softly as to not startle her. He then entered the driver’s side and started the car. You gave him directions to your apartment building and within five minutes, he parked the car right out front.

Ever the gentleman, he insisted on carrying the little girl. Knowing by now that there wasn’t much you could do to protest, you agreed and led him up the four flights of stairs to your door.

“Sorry 'bout the mess.”

“It’s no problem, darling, I quite like it.”

You turned your head for a brief second, as if asking him to elaborate while still leading him to your daughter’s room.

“The fact that it’s messy means that someone lives here, that this isn’t just some house, it’s a home. My house is always pristine but that’s because no one’s ever there to actually use it as something other than a glorified B&B.”

He laid Millie down on the bed and you pulled the covers over her. You both stood side to side for a little while, just watching her breathe.

“That sounds really lonely.”

“Yeah…”

Another minute passed by with no words coming from either of you.

“You raised an amazing daughter, (Y/n).”

“You’re a good man, Tom.”

Hearing those unfamiliar words coming out of your mouth almost brought tears to his eyes. He was always used to being called a ruthless mobster, cold-blooded killer, or many other names that all meant the same thing: monster. But you called him a good man, and the sincerity in your voice was almost overwhelming.

He cleared his throat and straightened up, making you turn towards him.

“I should probably go… You should get some rest as well.”

You nodded and walked him to the door. In a split-second decision, you leaned up and kissed his cheek, locking eyes with him afterwards.

“If you ever need an escape, or just wanna hang out somewhere different, our door’s always open.”

That made a smile take over his face and he kissed your forehead.

“Thank you, darling.”

And as you watched him round the corner, only your back visible to you, you couldn’t help but feel like this wouldn’t be the last time you ever saw Tom Holland.

i have mixed feelings concerning this story but at least i have ideas for a part two (if i ever decide to make one)

don’t forget to reblog, comment or like if you feel like it <3