#like this silly little thing in my head that they’re my dream partner and maybe some day….

[anthousae]

is this what it’s like to really be in love?

[simpforrooster]

then why don’t you, hotchner.

aaron hotchner x reader

summary: reader is obsessed with their boss.

t/w: some cursing, alcohol consumption. i pictured a female as i wrote, but im pretty sure it can be read as gn!

aaron hotchner is your unit chief. your very hot unit chief.

you’re completely aware of how unethical this infatuation is. you’re also aware of the age difference.

not that you care.

nothing could come of this crush. no matter how much you dreamed something would.

jj, emily, and penelope knew about this silly little crush. i mean how couldn’t they. they’re profilers, and as much as you try not to let your gaze linger on him longer than normal, sometimes it couldn’t be helped.

you’re nestled in a corner booth of your local bar with the rest of the team, blowing off some steam after a case.

reid sits next to you, animatedly talking about his latest read.

hotch meets your eye across the table, feeding you a rare smile. as quick as it appeared, it was gone. the last thing you needed was for one of the girls to notice and try feeding you false hope.

jj was the worst about it. “y/n, he’s obsessed with you. haven’t you noticed he always pairs the two of you together on a case?”

of course, you have wondered about that.

reid lays his arm on the back of the booth, enveloping you. “you need to add this one to your list,” reid tells you, looking down at you. you crane your face to his, grinning at your friend.

what you missed was the way hotch’s jaw set as he watched the two of you. you miss the way his grip tightens on the handle of his mug.

hotch throws the rest of his beer back, setting the mug down a little too hard.

“let me get you another, boss,” derek says, eyeing the rest of the table.

“oh, this is our song, jj,” emily screams, pulling jj to the dance floor.

“spence, come tell me more about that book,” penelope says. reid’s brows knit together, and penelope jerks her head toward the bar. realization falls over his face and they’re the last to leave. leaving you and hotch alone.

“they’re not exactly subtle, are they?” he asks, a smirk on his face.

“i guess i could say the same about you,” you gestured toward his empty mug.

hotch shrugs his shoulder. “i’m not sure what came over me.” he held your gaze, leaning across the table.

“what was that about?” you ask.

“come on, y/l/n. you’re a better profiler than that.” those dark eyes bore into yours.

"were you jealous, hotchner?" you ask, calm and collected on the outside but dying on the inside. maybe jj was right.

“why would i be jealous of reid when i know i’m the one you want?”

your cheeks redden. hotch stands from his spot in the booth and slides in next to you. the man has shocked you into silence. there is no way your boss is flirting with you.

hotch’s jaw works back and forth, like he’s fighting an inner battle with himself.

“how do you know that?” you murmur.

“you think i don’t notice the glances you sneak at me? or the way your cheeks turn red when i have to be stern with someone?” his fingertips run across your cheeks. “give me some credit here.”

embarrassment fills your body, making your heart sink to your feet. of course he knew. he’s the damn unit chief. he’s the best profiler the fbi has.

“what’s confusing to me is how you never picked up on why i partner the two of us up. or how i sneak my own glances at you,” he says, low in your ear. “or how turned on i get when i watch you hand someone their ass.”

“hotch—“

“i know. i’m your boss and twice your age.”

your body falls back against the wall, all the air leaving your body as if you were punched. of course the unit chief has a moral compass.

“i-i- i don’t care about that,” you manage to say. hotch’s eyes close, another internal battle. he scoots closer to you, filling trapping you between him and the wall.

“dave told me you’d say that.”

“rossi? you’ve been talking to him about us?”

hotch smirks. “he’s been pushing me to make a move since you joined the unit.”

“then why don’t you, hotchner?” you ask.

“because the paperwork would kill me,” he murmurs, leaning closer to you.

“hmm, maybe i could help you fill it out?” you suggest, letting your eyes drop to his mouth.

hotch moves in, stopping a breath from your lips. “no paperwork would get completed if i had you in my office all to myself.” gripping the collar of his button down, you pull him the remainder of the way to you.

his lips mold around yours in a way you can only describe as perfection. like his lips were made for you, and you alone. he kisses you with an urgency, and you match it. raising up from the booth, you arch yourself into him. his hand cement to your waist, pulling you as close as he can.

when he pulls back, his face is flushed. the aaron hotchner is blushing.

because of you.

pride fills your gut knowing you affect him the same way he does you.

“you’re gonna submit that paperwork to strauss, right?” you ask, breathless.

“fuck yes,” he says, pulling you in for another kiss.

a/n: my first criminal minds fic! i’ve been writing for topgun maverick for a long time. since beginning to watch criminal minds again, i’ve been dying to write for hotch and reid. i hope yall liked this! 🫣

[tyunn1ngz]

hueningkai nsfw alphabet

cw: gn!reader i think ? to the best of my ability anyways and no gender is stated regardless

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

total softie!!!!!!:( wants to be held and wants to hold u and its just oh-so delicate and tender just two lovers in ur own little safety bubble— giggles w hushed pinky promises that u will meet in ur dreams that night

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on himself his lips and his fingers— his lips on urs, his fingers in u; his fingers in ur mouth, he’s obsessed w it all, he likes it so much

on u ur thighs and tummy!!! marking u up all over and squishing the skin under his fingertips, rubbing over ur tummy when hes inside u just to watch u squirm and gasp .. ( ；∀；)

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

his cock gets so wet when hes hard n he cums a lot its so cute really especially cuz he’d get so shy abt it <3

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

gets off to ur voice sometimes— like listens back to voice notes u’ll send him even if all u r doing is talking abt ur day and gets himself so hard out of nowhere he loves hearing u

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

a big virgin w no idea what hes doing before u but thats ok!!!!! thats what practice is all abt !!!!!!! more fun for u especially bc hes such an eager learner <3

f = favourite position (this goes without saying)

spooning or riding — spooning is so intimate and he can feel up ur thighs and tummy so nicely that way, or dip his hands to bring u more pleasure to ur sex; and u riding him means u can take the reins and he’s very into that! use him to get urself off honey!

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

silly for the most part, its more relaxing and comforting that way, sex isn’t some performance between u two. but sometimes it feels like his brain just melts and pours out his ears so thats when it’ll seem more serious, bc u’ll have just a soft big eager puppy on ur hands then :<

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

for my own personal bias. No shaving. all his body hair in tact. everyone listen to me bc that is SEXY. his happy trail ohhgod

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

very intimate, has to be touching u at all times it’d be like chopping a limb off if u told him he wasnt allowed to touch u. loves rubbing his cheeks against urs idk thats just a thing in my head

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

cracks knuckles what do u guys know abt PLUSHIE HUMPER kai who steals sprays of ur perfume or lets u cuddle a specific one so it’ll smell like u when he fucks it later and cries ur name softly … what do u KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

nipple play. make this boy cum from just playing w his nipples i swear to god. and when hes more on the dominant sides of things definitely dacryphilia imo

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

just the bedroom !!! but maybe a quickie in the bathroom at a party could be up his alley too whos the say ;p

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

watching u get changed or get ready in general, defo also gets so hard when u do smth as simple as sit in his lap and move a little too much hes just too easy !!!!!!!!!!

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

nothing too rough and violent, and not heavy on the degradation either. just a tiny bit sometimes but hes more abt praise!! dont b too mean to him he’ll get stuck in his head :( not too fond of too much degradation towards u for this reason too! just a little if its what ur into but he prefers being nice to u its just in his nature no matter how bratty u get w him </3

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

a giver, bc it means he can make u feel good and also be between ur thighs which make for great earmuffs! not very good at it sometimes but his eagerness makes up for it!!!! other times he’s absolutely expert w his tongue its insane

he does love receiving tho!!!!! as much as he won’t admit it bc he thinks it’ll make him selfish for some reason Σ('◉⌓◉’) loves when u take him especially deep— rly makes his thighs shake and u have to keep ur hands on his hips to keep him from practically fucking ur throat >_>

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

gentle but kinda fast ? he gets so desperate and pathetic that he needs it to be faster but he can’t hurt u so he’s gentle by nature. he’ll get a lil rougher when he’s closer to cumming tho or if u rly push for it<3

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

don’t happen often but when they do they’re the hottest thing in the world. he either goes so dumb hes basically melted into ur arms and pleading, almost in tears or! he’s finally treating u like u won’t break and just taking what he wants, whispering how good u feel and how a little part of him wants someone to walk in and see u breaking in his hold :3c

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

a little! nothing crazy but if theres a more tame fantasy u wanna try he’d defo be down, and he’s happy to tell u his own fantasies, even if his face burns up w embarrassment w every word. not too fond on risks, not big ones anyway but little thrills r always fun!!!! ฅ/ᐠ. ̫ .ᐟ\ฅ

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

doesnt last long the first round especially but he’ll go as many rounds as u want. obsessed w how u feel when u cum on his cock so if u orgasm once and its not w him inside u ur gonna be going again and even then it might not be enough he’ll be overstimulating the both of u to the heavens— just be aware of that !

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

lowk vibrator obsession, loves watching u use it, loves using it on himself, loves using it on u, u using it on him— u both using at the same time, pressed up against either side of it and crying into each others mouths .. could also see him loving the idea of having a fleshlight. Gulps. ＿|￣|○

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

teases u a lot when hes in charge just to see ur glassy eyes and pretty lips form a pout, but hes pretty hypocritical bc he doesnt like to be teased and he’ll get so pathetic when u do .. sigh

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

louder when hes closer to cumming, whimpers and gaspy moans that grow louder and higher in pitch the closer he gets, probably likes to stuff his face in a pillow or plushie to keep himself quiet bc he gets so embarrassed but he sounds so pretty :((((

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

never really puts u in ur place when u act bratty but one time he just snaps and ur legs were trembling for a good two days after; good thing he was back to his little angelic self and carried u everywhere

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

big hes hung asf. personally im a little more interested in the 50 pounds of ass he carries around but ig his cock is also important in this category

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HIGH! .. once he gets a taste of sex— of you, he is insatiable woooo boy

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

hes not conking out until ur asleep first!!!!!!! so however long ur awake for after all is done, he’s up too!!!! no matter how hard his eyelids try to droop closed ok and if ur not sleepy hes not either (he is but just keep talking ok he’ll keep fighting it off)

[srslyscary]

songs // mini series

a mini series on how I would associate a song to skz members!

headcanons + small rants incoming! This isn’t based off meanings or lyrics, just instrumentals!

bang chan | lee know | changbin | hyunjin | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin

Candy ; Doja Cat

not based on the ENTIRE SONG but like.. from the timestamp 2:04 - 2:34 .. GOSH HE LOOKS LIKE THAT SONG.

IMAGINE IF HIS PARTNER WAS WITH HIM IN LIKE A SHARED HOME OR JUST IN THE STUDIO.. THIS MF WALKS IN WITH A COMPRESSION SHIRT, NO MAKEUP, AND HIS BEANIE. GODDD BAREFACED CHAN IS SO SCRUMPTIOUS.

I actually feel like on any occasion he would look like this song bc of the many different types of chan’s you get from him. obviously there’s Chan, then there’s Chris, and Christopher.

it also gives off rockstar chan in the photoshoot where he was in the bathtub with the wires and had the metal things in his mouth.. yeah this is him.

Swang ; Rae Sremmurd

Lord give this man my heart I forever bow in his presence. If I find an edit with this sound I’ll be so happy. HE LOOKS LIKE HE WOULD LISTEN TO THIS SONG WHILE WORKING OUT LKE IM SORRY.

“Hey Stay… how ya doin’?” TYPE SHIT.

It’s giving “late night drives with the windows open”… am I right or wrong???

This song gives that one blonde chan from Super intern ep. 3 I think and also chan in the oddinary trailer. SORRY NOT SORRY.

Swoon ; Beach Weather

Idk if it’s just me but this instrumental gives off chan at the beach (it’s obviously by beach weather) but aside from the artist’ name I can sort of picture his partner hand in hand while they run to the beach water and splash each other until sunset.

I also like to picture park dates. HE JUST LOOKS LIKE HE WOULD POST SCENERY PICS WITH THIS SONG.

this is like happy and calming chan, giving off those soft moments.

Messages From The Stars ; The Rah Band

i’m foive. literally that’s it. I SWEAR it gives off youngest son chan.

I also play this song in my head anytime chan does his little excited fists or anything to show he’s happy.

It just gives off silly channie.. like that one interview with Lee know where he was messing with him.. “a fiveee! A fouurrr- a threee- a— I’m sorry.” Apologies spouted when he realized Lee know was threatening him.

Dream, Ivory ; Dream, Ivory

this gives off him being up really late at the studio, and his partner calls his phone to tell him they miss him. he’s like “I miss you too, maybe even more.”

he skedaddles right on home to lay with them in bed, he’s holding them tight and giving them kisses on their head while whispering sweet nothings (god I want this)

the song is literally the same as the artist (how ironic) but like I could picture chan having dreams of sunny days with his partner and the boys. they’re all out on a grassy field having a picnic and playing with water balloons and water guns. they’re laughing and having a good time, him and lee know are probably sitting down watching them (ugh get a load of these oldies..)

West Coast ; Lana Del Rey

his partner simply woke up first and was faced with Chan’s back towards them. just running their fingers along his back one time to get a reality that he was real. that might have tickled him a big.

he turns around in his sleep, facing the other way. and now his partner could see his sleeping face. they rearranged his hair and smiled, nothing was more precious than waking up to the face of the one you love the most.

Idk I feel like this only goes well with morning scenarios… anyhoo he’s a cutie to wake up to I’m telling you.

taglist: @sixxze

[revivemyreverie]

💔😘💛💚 for Winston and Lotsie if possible? uwu -pdorm

💔 = Has your muse ever been heartbroken? If so, explain what happened.

🤠.

Winston’s first and only heartbreak is a really silly story, actually! When he was little, he and his twin sister would watch this show called Dylan’s Ranch. It was about a cowboy helping townsfolk around his little western town. It was a small show, but Winston ended up hooked onto the idea of being a traditional cowboy hero. But in the end, the show got cancelled before the next season even began, and it left poor 12 year old Winston in shambles.

Although, its end marked Winston’s first steps into stardom!

🧸.

Without spoiling Toytoriya’s chapter too much, I’ll let it be known that Lotsie will be heartbroken 3 times in his life. The first two already happened! The first came from his parents, who thought his dream of creating children’s shows is ridiculous. The second comes from his childhood best friend, who thought it be necessary that Lotsie was told to grow up and that he’s too immature to be even associated with him anymore. But the 3rd heartbreak… that hasn’t come yet! Still, time is a precious thing, and Lotsie knows his time with his classmates is fading fast.

😘 = Does your muse like to flirt? Do they like to be flirted with?

🤠.

To flirt at someone? Most times no, mostly because he’s bad at it. To be flirted with? Yes, but you have to be very obvious about it because he’s bad at it!!!! Winston’s fan base is particularly sweet with him, so he doesn’t bat an eye if you call him cute, handsome or even give him a suggestive wink or two. In my head, I think flirting with someone as oblivious as Winston can be a challenge in itself.

🧸.

Lotsie doesn’t mind the idea of flirting, but is said to be uncomfortable whenever someone makes advances towards him, especially if they’re a friend! I’ve talked about it before somewhere, but Lotsie dislikes the idea of a friendship evolving into something more. It likely has to do with his opinion on change and the future. He doesn’t like needing those expectations all of a sudden!

💛 = In what ways does your muse express their love to their partner

🤠.

Winston likes to be extravagant with their feelings LOL. He’s someone who’s leave a giant bouquet of roses at their door in the morning and sing them a song by the afternoon, cute things like that! I’m sure that if his S/O complained about it, he’d quite the crazy gifts immediately, but I’m sure he’d still find a way to be over the top all the time with love. Maybe he’d find a way for you to wear some fancy jewelry you got him, or start calling you really cute nicknames.

🧸.

Unlike one of his favorite classmates, Lotsie is far more silent about expressing feelings towards his lover. To him, all that matters is that every second they spend together is a happy one. Still, he’s very private about being directly affectionate. He can do basic things like holding your hand in public or pecking you on the cheek, but for him to do stuff like cuddling or any kinds of PDA outside of a small kiss requires for the two of you to be alone!

💚 = Does your muse get jealous easy?

🤠.

Absolutely.

🧸.

Depends on what exactly he envies.

[charnelhouse]

darlin'

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Wordcount: 4k Warnings: rough smut. violence. almost sexual assault (but nothing in detail). me probably knowing nothing about this. Srs hurt/comfort. references to suicide. Summary: You are another means to an end. He needs a second pair of hands and you have the face to distract scavengers and the guts to kill people who need to be put down. A/N: not sure about the timeline between joel and tommy splitting post-outbreak. I’m really playing fast and loose with canon here since joel is on the move with the reader and not stuck in one place. Hopefully his characterization is somewhat on point.

It’s not like you fall into Joel’s lap. It’s a gradual process where you’re in separate packs of hunters that inevitably dwindle to a few lonely pairs. You’re maneuvering around each other in the same snuffed-out city. The only source of lights is in sewer tunnels. There are familiar faces in the dark. 

One night, both of your groups are cornered in an empty factory by a crowd of infected. It’s silly. A foolish way to lose, but you do. Everyone but you and Joel get bitten, and you feed your friends a bullet. Joel does the same.

Then it’s an awkward stare-off. You think of killing the silence with a dry remark, but nothing about the beefy, stern-looking man in front of you seems dry. 

You recognize him just as he recognizes you. You’ve seen each other during a few trade-offs. Now - you really fucking wish you’d said hi. 

"You need a partner,” you tell him bluntly. Your voice only wavers a little, but as soon as the words leave your mouth, his brows raise in what you think is incredulity. You change course. 

“I need a partner,” you clarify. “I need someone to watch my back. You can’t survive out here in a party of one.”

He frowns, scraping a calloused hand over his beard. You think he’s ready to say no, so you reach back into your coffers to grasp something else to offer him. We have guns.

Bingo.

He finally straightens. His eyes are clear and brown as espresso grounds. Long, girlish lashes. “Show me.”

It’s been five years since the outbreak. 

***

Joel has these dreams where all of his hair falls out. Sometimes it’s his teeth.

In the very corner of his brain, he recalls that there’s symbolism there.

You’ve forgotten something. You’re forgetting. 

He goes and goes and never stops. He does not stop because if he does, all he will have is quiet air and memories. Sarah. The greasy splatter of blood on his chin and beard and how he didn’t notice until days later. He scrubbed his skin until it hurt and turned pink as raw chicken.

What did you do? What did it cost?

Joel cannot find it in him to regret the things he’s done. He lives somewhere in his chest. Not his head - never his head. He doesn’t know what to do with all that emptiness. He wants to fill his nights with something other than the stars or a campfire or a popcorn ceiling in an abandoned house. 

I survived. I did what I had to do in a dead, dead world. 

You were right. He couldn’t do it on his own.

You are another means to an end. He needs a second pair of hands and you have the face to distract scavengers and the guts to kill people who need to be put down. 

He was gonna say yes even before you brought up the guns. 

***

You’ve become incredibly intimate with his back. He always walks ahead of you, so you trace the broad line of his shoulders and the molasses-dark curls that cover his scalp. You long to draw patterns in the suede of his sand-colored jacket. 

You familiarize yourself with his tells and what it means when he stiffens, hunches or relaxes. His knuckles turn white with how hard they wrap around his gun when he’s somewhere he can’t see all four corners.

He barely speaks. It’s like trying to squeeze water from a stone. Joel is a fucking boulder or maybe a bullet.

A month on the road, you spot a family wailing for help. They’re dragging something that looks suspiciously like a body, and Joel curses. “They’ll have a whole fuckin’ pack on our ass.” He checks his guns, and you think he’s going to shoot them because now their problem is his. 

“They have children,” you whisper.

“They’ll kill us,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Kill us or try and take what’s ours. It’s how it goes.”

“That’s it then?”

He remains silent, dragging his thumb along his chin before readjusting his pack. “You’re free to go play Mother Teresa, but I ain’t helping you. I’m headed North, and that’s the end of it.”

He does leave. He storms off, slipping between the trees that line the charred highway. You wait for a second out of spite before chasing after him. He hasn’t gone far. In fact, you think he deliberately slowed his steps so that you could catch up.

***

Joel asks you to play damsel. Supplies are running low. There aren’t many towns nearby, so when a small group of scavengers draws near, you go. 

You were never a good actress, but your grief is real. You’ve honed and carved it until it became a weapon. You run toward them with your eyes wide and wet with fear. You choke down sobs that churn from some lost place inside you. Your dead family. Your dead friends. Your dead future. RIP to all that. 

Of course, the hunters accept you, their beady little stares cataloging your body under layers of cotton and denim. They lead you into their temporary camp and start a fire. They wrap a blanket around your shoulders that smells like mildew and loam. Just as you suspected, their comforting words begin to have double meanings. 

We can’t just give you these things—shelter costs somethin’. 

Don’t worry, your pretty head, we’ll keep you safe. 

C’mere. 

Your palms are damp with sweat. You nod, swallowing a weight. You’ve done this before, but Joel usually turns up before they start getting familiar. Maybe he's unsure. Maybe, there are too many. 

Where’s Joel? 

It rings through your head. Your ears buzz. 

He’s there. You know it. He’s watching and waiting and - 

One of the men grips your knee before sliding it up further. He chuckles softly, and you dig your nails into your palm and chew the inside of your mouth. 

You remind yourself that this is all part of the plan. You have it down. Act helpless. Get them in a vulnerable spot. Joel enters stage left and makes quick work of them. He’s probably biding his time.

“Now - maybe we can come to -”

Where’s Joel?

Your heart is thudding in the cage of your ribs. It’s in your throat. 

“Did you hear what I said, girl? How about -”

The man grunts. There’s a handle sticking out of the top of his skull. He sputters before his eyes roll back and then Joel is there, ripping that blade free and giving you a quick jerk of his chin.

“Stay behind the trees,” he orders before descending on the rest of them. 

“Where the fuck is my gun?” the bald one roars as he digs through his pack. 

“Mine’s fuckin’ gone, too,” a lanky blonde yells. 

Smart Joel. He must have snatched what he could while they were distracted. 

As you slip behind a tree, you turn to watch the rest of the carnage. You think it’s in the bag up until the big bald fuck manages to knock Joel to the side so that his shot misses. 

Joel up again, which is something he had constantly branded into your head. Never stay down. You’re right fucked if you stay down. 

Joel keeps fighting. He’s broad and full of a rage that ripples out of him and shakes the air. The punches he deliver are devastating. The skill he has at killing is a privilege to watch. He is an exploding star hurtling to the earth. A bull barreling through concrete. He’s older than you, but it doesn’t slow him down. Not at all. 

You remain low in the trees just as he instructed. Your chest tightens when the lanky blonde socks Joel’s face so hard that his jaw audibly clicks. It doesn’t seem to break his stride because he disposes of him quickly, whipping out a switchblade that he plunges between the blonde’s ribs. Then he’s onto the next one. He’s barely using his guns.

Bullets attract infected. 

They’re also precious. Finite supplies.

Right. Good thinkin’, girl. 

The sounds coming from the fight are a sharp blend of sawed-off grunts and insults. Joel is the only silent one as he cleaves his way through the chaos. It’s intimidating. It’s unreal.

Something moves on the ground. 

The blonde he’d stabbed is still alive, wiggling like a snake. He’s crawling onto his knees, red-soaked fingers shakily grasping his discarded shiv from the dirt.

“Joel,” you yell, but not loud enough. He’s too busy with the bald shithead whose red face is straining as he tries to sloppily defend himself against your partner. The man on the floor rises, arm cocked to deliver a stab to Joel’s lower back and you move without thinking. You sprint forward and tackle him to the floor, arms snagging firmly around his throat. There’s a startling pain in your side before it dissipates. You rely on adrenaline to drive you to the second act.

Quickly, you yank your pocket knife from your jeans and pierce the man’s throat. He squeals before it turns wet. You draw the blade out and bring it down again. It’s not easy and requires all of your strength to break flesh.

It’s unnerving. You’ve killed before, but this disturbs you. He squeals again, but it’s muffled. He choked and snorts.

This little piggy…

Somewhere Joel’s voice sings in your head:

Don’t think. Just kill. 

The blonde shivers under your weight, palms slapping out at mud before he curls his fingers into trampled weeds. He takes one final rattling breath and goes still. 

You scramble back on your ass, heels kicking up dirt as Joel whirls around to stare at you. His expression is incredulous and it doesn’t fit his face. It’s alien and wrong. He’s usually far too confident and cautious. He knows all outcomes, but this? You saving him? No - he did not expect that. 

Joel blinks before carefully stepping over the dead man. He moves toward you, lowering himself so he can meet your eyes. He touches your cheek. “You ok?”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Fine - he-he was gonna -”

“I know,” he finishes and it almost sounds like a thank you. 

He grabs your wrist forcing you up. “Let’s do this quickly,” he instructs, gesturing to the backpack, tents, and assorted supplies. It’ll be a good haul. 

You nod, already forgetting about the pulsing cut beneath your ribs.

***

You must be getting sick. Your palms feel like weighted lead. Your steps are slow and clumsy. Your skin is screaming hot, and it takes Joel two full days to notice. You’ve stopped in a deserted garage on a lone suburban street. A stale, sweet smell comes from the door that leads into the house, and you don’t want to open it. 

Joel searches through boxes and plastic cases while you lean heavily against the cool garage door. He glances at you before doing a double-take. Perhaps, it’s obvious - even in the dark. Perhaps - this is the first time he has truly looked at you since they’ve stopped walking. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you mutter even though your head may topple off your neck. Fuck. 

Abruptly, he straightens and strides toward you. You catch him rolling his eyes before he stops short. He grasps your face with surprisingly gentle hands. He inhales sharply. “Jesus,” he hisses. “Goddamnit, girl, you're burning up.”

You blink at him, and even that is a chore. Your lids are so heavy, each individual lash stings. You lick your lips. “Mm’ok.”

Without another word, he wraps his arms under your thighs and picks you up bridal-style. “Joel,” you wheeze, your arm flying around his thick neck. The short hairs at the nape tickle your skin. “It’s fine.”

“Quiet.” He grunts before kicking the door open and hauling you into the raw darkness of this deserted house. 

“Fuck,” he mutters and places you on the counter. “I’m gonna secure the perimeter…should have done it before hauling ass in here.”

He seems on edge.  He doesn’t usually forget shit like that because that shit will get you killed.

You nod before leaning back into the wall. Your head bumps against a cabinet and Joel has the nerve to tell you to be careful. 

After a few minutes, he returns. 

The kitchen is surprisingly clean. His gaze darts around the space before he picks you up and takes you to the second level. You can hear his boots making soft thumps in carpet. You can see framed photos on the walls. Finally, he settles you on a dusty queen-sized bed. 

“Think it’s a cold? The flu?”

In the current world, it could be any number of things. Regardless, you’re beginning to realize what this is. You’d avoided checking it out. You’d buried its burning ache. The knife - the metal. It had to have been dirty. 

Had you cleaned it? Were you too busy wanting to help Joel sift through everything that you’d ignored it? How fucking stupid could you have been?

You shake your head. 

“You gotta work with me here,” he urges, a brush softer. “What hurts?”

Sighing, you roll onto your side and pull up your shirt. Joel sucks in a breath. Even now it’s throbbing insistently. Feels hot. It had been so small. 

You’d forgotten that small, open wounds can lead to fatal infections. 

Joel’s hand rests on your hip, a fingertip drags lightly under the puffy flesh and you flinch. It smells like something sick. 

“Guessing by your silence, it’s bad.” You try to laugh and it cracks like peanut shells. 

“It’s not good,” he replies carefully. “You need antibiotics.” 

You’re too scared to inspect the wound. You can imagine it: oozing pus, streaking, swelling, beating like it has its own heart.

“Did you get this during the fight?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, pressing your cheek into the cold blankets. 

“And you didn’t clean it?” Joel’s tone rises. You guess that he’s keeping a tight lid on his anger. 

“Forgot.”

When he says nothing, you glance at him over your shoulder. His nostrils flare. He’s flexing his jaw. His hands are fists at his sides, but his dark eyes remain on you. He’s thinking, perhaps trying to decide if it’s worth scolding you or ripping you a new one.

What would it matter if you’re already dying?

He takes a deep breath, shakes his head, and abruptly swings his backpack off his shoulder before crouching to the floor. He unzips it and rummages. “Alright, I can clean and bandage it, but you’ll need antibiotics - somethin’ like doxycycline or amoxicillin. May be able to barter with a few people up near Asheville, but that means I’ve gotta leave you for a day, possibly two.”

You freeze.

What?!

Frantically, you twist around to face him. “I’ll-I’ll be alone?”

He sits down on the bed, touches the back of his hand to your forehead. His mouth tenses at the level of heat, but he keeps it there. It’s the most intimate thing he’s ever done.

“This is your life on the line, darlin’.” He runs his other hand through his unruly hair. He keeps his eyes on the floor. “I’ll lock the house down.”

You snort. There is no such thing as locks anymore. Zero law. Break a window. It’s enough. 

“There’s no one around here,” he adds pointedly as if reading your mind. “Everything’s been picked clean. I’m sure you’re safe.”

He doesn’t promise it. You’re not sure he’s good at promises.   

Everything smells weird. Like old fruit. 

“Bye,” you mumble as he reaches for his gauze and tends to the cut.

“Haven’t left yet, hon.”

“But you will.”

He clears his throat.

***

Joel moves fast. He doesn’t stop. 

That wound had been festering for days. How did you even fucking walk that far with it? How could you not treat it or ask him to?

He wants to shake you for being so stupid. He wants to watch you wither and die from the injury so that you learn your lesson.

But I’d bring you back. I’d pull you out. 

Joel feels something hard lodge in his throat. The trees are green and full of shadows. The highway is marked by broken cars and a few scattered bones. 

You’d saved him. You’d gotten hurt saving him.

He really doesn’t enjoy the fact that you’ve slipped your way inside him. You’ve wrapped those nimble little fingers around his ribs and ripped them an inch. He’s creaking. He’s old and getting older and the world is fucking dead. It’s just a rotting corpse and Joel really likes when you sing. Sometimes, they’re just on the road and you’ll start murmuring a tune from the forties or the seventies. You have this soft, breathy tongue for old love songs. Ella Fitzgerald. Billie Holiday. Judy Garland. Dolly Parton. 

He can’t stop thinking about your expression when he left. Your eyes were wide with fear, your lower lip trembled as you called after him. You were too weak to sit up. You reached a hand out before dropping it as if it was too heavy. Inexplicably, he rushed back to your side. “I will come back,” he declared.

“Are you sure?” 

He stroked your hair just once. He lowered his face to yours. “I will.”

***

Joel kills for the antibiotics. He won’t tell you that even though he’s sure you already know his game. He’s ruthless. He has to be. He didn’t have time to barter. 

He returns to you as quickly as he can. He’s shocked at his timing. It’s only been twenty-five hours when he bursts back into the house and runs up the stairs. In the daylight, he realizes that there are bodies in the living room. Pill bottles on the antique coffee table. Stained carpet. The corpses are mummified. He’d left you in a tomb and that makes his stomach turn over. 

He’ll clean them up before you come downstairs. You will. You’ll be fine.

He’s almost relieved when he finds you still in bed, but when he gets closer, he blanches. You’re seemingly worse, drenched in sweat and shivering. He folds himself over you, hands on your face as he tilts it up. Your eyes can’t focus on him. 

“Hey,” he says, slapping you gently. “Sweetheart - I’m back. I’ve got the medicine.” He reaches around and presses his hand to the wound. It’s hot as an oven, sticky as a melted sweet on pavement. He can smell the infection and he grimaces. “Let’s turn you around.”

He manages to cradle you against his chest before dripping water into your mouth drop by drop. You lick at it, whimpering as the dry skin of your lips cracks. He wets an old towel and lays it on your forehead. He feeds you tylenol and antibiotics. He cleans the wound and worries when you don’t wrench yourself away from his touch. It should sting fiercely, but the pain is diluted beneath the fog of fever.   

He cares for you and then waits. It’s a little too similar to when he’d stay up with Sarah when she couldn’t breathe right due to bronchitis or unable to keep medicine down because of a stomach bug.

Let me save you. He thinks. Let me save you this once. He has to seal the memory of Sarah away because it’s too much. It’s agony. He shudders as if he’s placed his fingers on a screaming tea kettle. It wrecks him. He can’t fall apart when you’re already half-gone.

***

In the middle of the night, you touch his jaw, scrape your nails across his beard. “You called me darlin’,”  you slur. “Sweetheart.” 

“I did,” he confirms as he circles your wrist with his hand. He could squeeze it and it’d break. “Now - sleep.” 

You pull his arm down to your face, nuzzle your cheek against the cool metal of his watch. It startles him, but he doesn’t pull away. 

“Joel,” you repeat. 

“G’night, honey.”

He doesn’t know why he called you that the last few days. Darlin’. Honey. Sweetheart. He’s never done it before. 

***

That event changed things. It shifted the air between you. You’d saved Joel’s life and he’d saved yours in return. In all respects, it should have kept their relationship on equal ground. One action had canceled out the other. A debt repaid. 

But, it’s different. He is different. He’s always watching you. A bit more protective. A bit more anxious. Sure - he trusts you to handle yourself, but he wants you not to need to handle yourself. 

They’re on the road and it’s getting colder. He has people they could rely on for a few weeks of shelter, but it’s a trek. 

“I say we make it to California,” you grumble as your boots catch on half-melting frost. “Hawaii.”

“Let me build a boat real fast, then.”

It’s all so much of the same. Walking. Supplies. Ammo. Food. Laundy. River baths. Medicine. Holing up in deserted, dusty homes that still reek of family ghosts. 

Then there’s the tension between you. The knot of things unsaid tugging you closer. 

You think about him all the time. The shape of his face and the hook of his nose. The jawline. The big brown eyes and thick, umber hair. He’s so big and bulky and protective and, if you could, you’d huddle inside him. 

Let me bury myself there all winter. Let me seek your heat. 

It comes to a head because it’s inevitable. In a strange house on a strange street near North Carolina, Joel shares a bed with you. Nothing is different. Nothing at all. You roll toward him and place your hand on his chest. He jerks, but doesn’t remove it. His heart is pounding furiously beneath the cotton.

He utters your name gently. You watch his lips fold around the letters. 

“You almost died today.”

He snorts. “No - I didn’t.”

Alright - he didn’t. It was only a small scuffle. One gunshot for a backseat of supplies.

But you wanted a reason. Needed a reason to touch him like he had touched you when you nearly died. 

“You could’ve,” you reply stubbornly.

He huffs a laugh. “I ain’t dyin on you anytime soon.”

“I know.”

You dig your fingers into his chest, rub them deep until you feel his hand slide over your thigh. He squeezes the meat of it and you wriggle under the covers.

“You sure?” he asks, voice hoarse. He sounds nervous. Good.

Lazily, he turns on his side, his hand wanders up your leg. He hauls you closer so that you’re intertwined, tangled up in limbs. He presses his cheek to yours and curls his fingers behind the crotch of your panties before sinking two of them inside your cunt. 

“Oh,” you gasp, clawing at his hair. “Fuck.”

He moves deliberately, stroking your walls until it begins to smart like a bruise. His thumb finds your clit and he teases it, circles with a calloused trigger-happy fingertip.

“Is this what you want?” he murmurs despite it just being the two of you and there’s not a soul for miles except maybe the dead spirits in this house. A happy family. A dog. Gone. 

You grip some of his t-shirt and tug it, thighs opening around his hand. You rock down on him as he plays you like his six-string.

You push at his boxers, reach for his cock. It’s hot in your palm. Full and throbbing just like that wound on your side that sewed you both together. He grabs your chin and holds it still. “Tell me,” he demands. “Is this what you want?”

Do you want me?

You nod, chewing your lip as he adds a third finger. He stretches you open. He readies your sex. 

“You, Joel,” you reply to seal the truth of it. “You.”

He lowers his head and captures your mouth. Joel kisses you senseless, his tongue sweeping behind your teeth and making itself at home. He drinks, his beard scraping your chin raw. He tastes like leather and ammunition. Sweat. Wood. Generic shampoo. He lifts his head to catch his breath.

“Alright, darlin’.”

***

It is a smoother coupling than you expected. You didn’t think he’d kiss you. Before, you assumed that if this would happen, it would be a cold fuck in the form of stress relief. Not this. 

He groans against your teeth. You clasp the back of his head and his soft curls. His rests his forearm beside your face as he bears his weight above you. You watch the muscles in his jaw work with every thrust. The vein in his throat tenses. His chest hitches and you can’t help but lick a clean line up his sternum.

He likes it. His lungs rumble.

His hand slides between them, parting the lips of your cunt to press and tease your clit. Your pussy is wrapped around his length. He drives to the end of you before easing back until only the tip remains. He pushes in again so that you feel every ridge of him. Again. Again. You can hear your body take him. It echoes in the room.

You’re tearing me apart. You’re splitting me. You’re branding me. I can’t breathe. 

Do it again. 

“Wider,” he urges as his whole body trembles. “Lift your ass for me.”

You do and the angle allows him to plunge deeper.

You know he’s trying hard to fuck you like it doesn’t mean something. He’s rolling his hips and pinning your wrist to the mattress and it feels like the fat head of his cock is punching the bottom of your lungs. It hurts a little and meaningful sex shouldn’t hurt like this. Or maybe it should. Maybe, that's the damn point. You're close to tears because it feels so good and so much at the same time. You can’t help clenching around him, coming like a fountain as he punishes you with another harsh stroke. 

“Darlin,” he says in a voice that stings like gravel. It’s one sweet thing given between grunts and groans and the wet slap of skin. It’s all he can offer. He traces the cut along your ribs that hasn’t yet scarred over. He pets it with his thumb as he stares at you intently.

“Say it again,” You bring your knees to his waist, skate your nails down the muscles of his back. 

The corner of his lips twitch. “Darlin,” he offers before lowering his mouth a breath from your own. “Darlin.”

[workofheart]

jean kirstein relationship hcs

sorry for the inactivity lately y’all school is whooping my ass </3 in the mean time, have some modern jean relationship hcs bc i miss him

protective boyfriend #1 ♡ ♡ ♡ will not hesitate to yell at ppl if they’re mean or rude to you, he doesn’t want anyone coming near you like that. thinks his partner deserves the absolute best and will not tolerate people disrespecting you or even thinking of disrespecting you. he will defend you til the day he dies, even if it embarrasses you

asks the waiter for a new dinner when yours is undercooked and you’re too nervous to say something. if you’re a person w social anxiety or just don’t feel like doing something, he would do things for you no problem, whether its fetching you something, paying for you, ordering for you, etc. he’s not gonna tease you or make fun of you, he’s just happy to help

he’s a sappy drunk :’) when he’s hammered, he gets all clingy and drags you onto the couch to cuddle w you/hangs off of you while you walk home and tells you all about how he feels about you and how he wants to spend his life with you and have dogs and a cute home forever. has the cutest little giggle while literally pouring out his feelings for you 

and if you bring it up in the morning, you KNOW he’s gonna get so shy and red like “oh... i said that? haha...”

his biggest dream is just domesticity with you - like i mentioned, living somewhere beautiful in a nice house with a beautiful family or just you and him :( he really cherishes you and just dreams about spending his life with you. his “happy place” is very likely just the two of you sitting in a field by a river on a sunny day, maybe with some sandwiches and sparkling water, with all the time in the world watching ducks swim by

i imagine that you were previously friends before starting to date, but he’d been seriously pining for you since the beginning, just never wanted to make you uncomfortable and was too scared to say anything. he’d go home after hanging out w you and just sigh (probably yell into his pillow in frustration too but shh) bc he just felt like if it wasn’t you, then who else?

meanwhile you’re being so obvious that you like him back but he keeps reasoning that you’re just being nice and wouldn’t actually want him like that 

was ready to settle for friendship and just lock away his feelings when you just pulled him aside and confessed directly. he was a strangely confused yet happy daze for the following weeks

is a sucker for romance movies - likes imagining him and you in those scenarios, romanticizes your own relationship shamelessly. i feel like he’d enjoy 500 days of summer and... wait for it... clueless. I KNOW. it’s his guilty pleasure. also consider: he bawled his eyes out at the end of la la land.

loves beach dates! loves the beach, loves the boardwalk, loves everything about that summer atmosphere. waits in line to get you funnel cake and then you sit and eat, people watching and making up stories for everyone that passes by and just laughing while you enjoy the fresh summer air. in the arcades, totally the type to win himself a cute plushie but when ur like “omg!! is that for me?” he goes oh yeah haha.. but don’t think he doesn’t notice when you’ve been eyeing up a specific toy at the ring toss stand. he will not hesitate to play game after game until he gets it for you. 

lover of back hugs. he is so generous, literally towers over you no matter ur height, just wraps his arms around u and holds u <3 it makes you feel so safe and loved and that’s all he wants for you 

carries you wherever possible. up the stairs, down the stairs, from the kitchen to the living room and back. he always boasts about how easy it is to pick you up bc he’s strong and it boosts his confidence lol

constantly tells you how pretty he thinks you are. jean always thinks you look beautiful so he always compliments your outfits and your hair and your makeup, leans into ur ear to whisper it to u and make u giggle even when it’s just the two of you at home

on that note: always gets caught staring at you and he blushes so easily when you call him out for it. can’t stop looking at you over the top of his newspaper when you’re having breakfast in the morning, can’t stop looking at you while you’re making dinner for him, can’t stop looking at you while you work or study

for valentines/your birthday/holidays he always makes you cute handmade cards out of colored construction paper. he finds a new design every single time and spends so long on it, and finishes by writing out how he feels on the inside. can u just imagine him sitting at his desk, tongue poking out of his mouth with a glue stick in hand as he lays down different colored paper hearts :( 

teases you nonstop. always poking fun at you, probably make jokes about how “irresistible” he is and how you can’t keep away lol, thinks you look adorable when you’re flustered

u give him haircuts when it’s getting long, he sits on a stool in ur bathroom and u just give him a trim every once in a while. trusts you not to fuck it up (not that you ever would) and it always comes out so nice and it makes his heart swell just to have you there to do such intimate, sort of domestic things for him.

pet names! i know so many people have talked about this but it’s just so true. has tried everything in the book to see what you like, watches carefully to see how you respond so he knows, occasionally calls you something silly like “pookie” just to get a reaction out of you

needs verbal communication. jean always has so much on his plate and has a lot of insecurities, so he really needs that reassurance that you need him and love him every day until he can accept it for himself

favorite position to sleep in is him on his back with your head on that area between his neck and shoulder, holds you really close during the night. loves loves loves when you nestle into him and cling to him for warmth when you’re asleep. has trouble sleeping if you aren’t there

dotes on you so much seriously he is so sweet and caring, just so whipped for you. he is literally so weak and always gives into you just bc it makes you happy. you want to drive out for mcdonald’s at two in the morning for an apple pie and a shake? he’s getting his keys rn

nsfw below the cut (18+)

i think mostly everyone is in agreement that jean is a total pleasure dom - he spends all night getting you to cum again and again, always asking if you can give him one more

as mentioned earlier, teases. avoids giving you what you want at first, makes you use your words, and when when you do get it, you’re getting it. aka, overstim galore. he’s not stopping until you’re spent

so much dirty talk, asks so many questions to get you to talk. “louder for me, princess” type of guy. wants to reduce you to babbling with how good he makes you feel - the sounds you make get him so incredibly hard

he is also vocal bc he knows you like it. groans his name into your ear just to feel you clench, then laughs.

never forgets to mark you up, leaves hickeys all over your neck and chest and thighs. loves to look at them later on when you’re changing, and especially loves your reaction to seeing them for yourself

size kink!! this man is almost 6’3 so chances are he’s gonna be bigger than you regardless. likes being close to you, likes being in positions where he can see you, probably has an arm slung around your waist or back whenever the position allows for it so he can hold you close

pins your arms down, holds your hips to the bed so you just have to sink into the mattress and take it

every time he aims to fuck your brains out and make sure the only thing you’re thinking about is him and how good he makes you feel

his fingers are fucking magical, dear lord, he gets you so worked up and knows just how to touch you to make you squirm, loves seeing you go hazy and unravel on his fingers. his fingers are so long and gentle and stretch you out so nice + he knows exactly what to do, where to touch you, when to change his motions to get you there in minutes

needs to be kissing you when he makes you cum. swallows your moans, adores how you struggle to kiss him back with the pleasure he’s giving you

mirror sex is top tier for him, probably has one of those siding door closets w mirrors next to his bed so he can make you look at yourself and watch just what he’s doing to you

eye contact, will 100% grab your jaw to make you look at him, loves seeing you stare up at him through glassy eyes

literal KING of aftercare. takes such good care of you, gets you anything and everything you need, cleans up so well, gives you the world and more

[helpistolethesecharacters]

Down By The Docks

Bucky Barnes x Male Reader

Word Count: 1810

This is inspired by another request, from an anon this time.

The idea is a '40's AU. I wasn't totally sure if that meant they wanted a story totally set in the 1940's or something that just didn't reference the war, or pretended the war wasn't on/our characters aren't involved in the war, so I just picked one.

Hope this is what you wanted anon!

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

Bucky Barnes was one of the best looking fellas Y/n had ever laid eyes on, of that he was sure. It was only his second day working down on the docks, but he was sure he could happily spend the rest of his life working this menial job if the view never changed.

He was always quick with a smile for a pretty dame or even, Y/n had noticed, a particularly handsome fella.

Y/n had thought for sure he had imagined seeing his 'impressing a pretty dame' smile aimed at the bloke who had delivered a sack of letters to the area they were working in.

He would have written it off as the heat getting to him if not for that very same smile being directed his way later that day while they were all sitting around eating their lunches.

None of the other's seemed to have picked up Bucky's brazen flirting with both genders, or maybe they just didn't care. That last one seemed pretty unlikely though.

Y/n just hiked up a brow at Bucky the second time he shot him that pretty smile. He had no idea what to do with that. It couldn't be helped that it was illegal to be that way, that was just the way of the world.

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

Y/n was sure that Bucky was trying to kill him.

He had shown up to work wearing his standard work wear. Just the worn whites and browns of clothes that had been washed too many times but that you couldn't afford to throw out yet.

It just wasn't fair that the day was particularly warm, so everyone had ended up stripped down to their pants. All those half naked male bodies glimmering with sweat, the noises they made unconsciously as they lifted boxes full of cargo and moved them to where they needed to go.

And right there, in the middle of it all, Bucky Barnes. Poor Y/n had ended up being sent home from being 'affected by the sun'. It wasn't his fault dammit, Bucky had been parading around looking good enough to eat. Y/n was ashamed to find himself literally walking into poles and walls in his preoccupation with the half naked Bucky.

----------

Y/n sighed in relief. Tonight was going to be blessedly free of one Bucky Barnes, perpetual thorn in his gay side.

He was going out to a bar. It was an open secret that this particular bar was a gay bar. The cops in that area were happy to turn a blind eye to it largely because several of them were known regulars there.

That didn't mean you could just go about talking about it, or anything that went on inside it while you weren't there.

It was still illegal after all.

Y/n leaned back into his booth and sighed happily. A nice drink, some eye candy that wouldn't beat the crap out of him just for giving them the eye, and a little dancing ought to make his worries just float away.

Y/n had been looking forward to this all week.

Damn Barnes to hell and back.

Y/n moved over to the bar to order himself something silly. He was feeling the need for some ridiculousness tonight.

He had just taken his first sip of his drink when he spotted him. There he was, standing by the bar just a little ways down from Y/n, seemingly ordering a drink.

Y/n tried valiantly to not spit his mouthful of booze all over the bar. He had paid good money for that drink and he would be damned if he wasted it.

It didn't work very well. Some of it ended up coming out of his nose, and as he hacked up the parts of it that went down the wrong pipe to choke him, the rest dribbled down his chin.

'Well, that was attractive,' Y/n thought drily.

"Oh gosh, are you alright? Here, let me help."

Y/n turned watering eyes on the man addressing him.

He was met with a short blond who looked like a stiff wind could knock him over if he wasn't careful.

He was holding out a handkerchief and looking unsure of himself.

Y/n went to reassure the stranger that he was fine, but some small remaining part of the drink that hadn't been attempting to kill him before chose that moment to do so. Instead of words, he could only hack and cough, trying to get the liquid out of his lungs.

Y/n felt a hand on his back moving in firm circles, trying to help. He looked back over at the man to find him at his side frowning as he rubbed at Y/n's back.

When Y/n could finally speak properly he took the handkerchief, which had once again been offered, to clean his face of tears and spit and snot.

'Who'd have thought that alcohol burned so badly going into a person's nose and lungs?' Y/n thought disgustedly.

When he had cleaned himself up properly and turned back to his savior he suddenly realised he had no idea how to make this situation any less awkward.

The other man apparently had no such reservations.

"I'm Steve by the way. That looked pretty painful. Are you okay now?"

He was so earnest, and it didn't look like he was laughing at Y/n at all, so he could only nod vaguely.

"Yeah, I was just surprised by something. I'm Y/n, just so you know."

Y/n paused, feeling every bit as awkward as he ever had.

"Um, after that bit of excitement, I think I'm gonna call it a night. Murderous drinks aside it was nice meeting you. Can I clean this and bring it back here some time for you Steve?"

Y/n held up the thoroughly soaked handkerchief, cringing internally.

"Oh, don't worry about it, but are you sure you don't want to stay for a little bit longer? I'm here with my friend, but he's never very good company when there's dancing and alcohol involved."

Y/n mulled it over for a second, before manners kicked in.

"Yeah, no worries. I could stay for a bit longer, if only to save you from a lonely evening."

Steve's smile was sweet, but Y/n also couldn't detect anything else behind it. It didn't seem like he was trying to hit on Y/n, just that he didn't want to spend the night alone while his 'friend' danced the night away.

Y/n followed behind Steve as he led him over to the booth that Y/n had originally been sitting in.

Y/n stopped still at the sight of who was sitting across from Steve. Bucky dang-it-all-to-heck Barnes.

At their approach, Bucky turned away from the two women sitting with him in the booth. His handsome face lit up when he registered who it was standing in front of him.

"Stevie, there you are. I was starting to think you ditched me earlier than ever, but look what you found. I should bring you here more often."

Steve just gave Bucky a blank look.

Y/n couldn't blame him. If his 'good friend' had taken him out for a night of fun, he wouldn't have appreciated him looking at other guys that way either. He wasn't exactly backward in letting people know he was interested from the sounds of it.

Y/n stood awkwardly by the booth, not really sure if he should still be there. He had followed Steve to keep him company, but if it were him in Steve's shoes right now, he'd want him to leave.

"Um, I think I should probably head off actually."

Steve turned back to Y/n looking confused.

"Oh, well if you're sure. You don't have to stay if you don't want to of course."

Y/n refused to acknowledge the fact that Bucky was honest to goodness pouting. Was there anything in this world that was fair?

"Well, at least let me walk you out."

There would be no arguing apparently, as Bucky was already out of his seat and herding Y/n to the door.

"It was nice meeting you!" Y/n barely managed to turn to yell to Steve as he was pulled away by the ever insistent Bucky.

Once they made it outside Bucky paused and turned to face Y/n.

"Hey."

Y/n turned to face him.

"Gotta say, I'm gettin' a bit confused here."

Y/n frowned but stayed silent.

"When we met at work I thought you were pretty cute, but you don't hit on people down by the docks if you wanna live to see the next sunrise, you know? But then you were always starin' an I thought, maybe you mighta been interested. Then that day you kept walkin' into things happened and I was pretty dang sure you were."

Y/n was blushing by now.

'Great so he did notice.'

"But then I see you here."

Bucky had moved closer and lowered his voice, speaking softer.

"An, no offense to Stevie, but he's not exactly every guys dream-boat. You know, I don't even think he knows this is a gay bar."

He broke off here to chuckle quietly. He was standing so close, he was practically pressing Y/n up against the wall of the bar.

"But then you're actin' all stand-offish. Like you can't even bare to look at me. So, what's a guy to think?"

Bucky seems to realise how this might be coming across and pulls away to give Y/n some room.

"Do I got a shot with you Y/n?"

Y/n had been floating somewhere dreamy with Bucky pressed up so close to him, but when he pulled away, reality came crashing down. How dare he ask questions like that when Steve was in there waiting for him to get back?

"You got some nerve Barnes. You can't just ask anyone out. Not when you got a fantastic guy like that waiting for you in there!"

"Fantastic guy? What-"

Y/n cut him off before he could sweet talk his way out of this.

"Steve! He's sweet, and kind and probably way too good for someone who flirts with everyone on the block!"

Bucky was laughing, which Y/n thought was way out of line.

"Wha, Y/n, Steve's just a friend. He don't even swing that way."

Y/n's face lit up with the brightest blush he had ever felt. He was sure he was going to actually self-combust before long.

"Oh."

"Yeah. So is that why you looked at me like that?"

He moved closer again, and when he spoke that damned silver tongue was back.

"I would never. When I'm with someone, they're the most important person in the world to me. Besides, how could I ever look my ma in the face again if I treated my partner like that?"

Y/n blushed fiercely.

"So whaddya say? Give me a shot?"

Y/n could only nod, face still a brilliant red.

[milkiane]

lost time

pairings: colin zabel x reader

warnings: mentions of food, awkward mare lol

word count: 1834

note: because colin is alive and well, watching marvel movies with you and reggie <3

a soft graze upon your forehead caused you to stir a bit from the slumber you were in. eyes blurred and mind still disoriented, you let out a puzzled hum.

colin sighed, his hopes of not waking you up went down low as you rubbed the somnolence away with your hand.

“go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he whispered, caressing your hair.

“work?” you mumbled, forcing back a yawn.

colin hummed, making you frown. as much as you loved seeing your husband at the peak of his career, all of his hard work finally paying off- making him one of the infamous detectives in pennsylvania, it didn’t mean you never longed to have his presence around more.

“can’t you have a day off? just f’today?” you asked, words slurring with sleep, “reggie and i missed you, colin.”

colin’s heart sank. he knew he was spending too much time at work again, only seeing you and his son whenever he comes home late from work, reggie asleep in his bed and you passed out on the living room from waiting up for him, or in the early morning before he goes to work.

“i’ll see what i can do, alright? mare and i have had plenty of information now and we’re so close to solving this case,” colin said, he paused for a bit to think, “but hey, i promise i’ll be home early today for some dinner date with you and reggie, maybe watch some movies if we have some time, is that fine?”

you mustered up a small smile, “sounds perfect, detective,” you leaned up to kiss him on the lips, “now go to work, we’ll see you later.”

with one last kiss on the forehead, colin brought the blankets up to your shoulders and left the room, going into the next one to take a peek at his son.

“mumma, where’s dad?” reggie, your three-year-old son, asked for the umpteenth time. dinner was ready; table mats and plates arranged, the cooked food you spent hours upon making served in your delicate chinawares, and chosen movies fiddled in the hands of your son.

before you could even answer him, the front door jingled, alongside the voice of your husband. you grinned at reggie and exclaimed, “oh- hey, see, daddy’s home!”

you turned back around to make sure everything was in order as your son waddled across the room and into the arms of his father, “hi there, li’l buddy!”

although when you pivoted around, the sudden arrival of another guest surprised you to the limit. mare sheehan, colin’s partner, was standing beside him, taking in the sight of your humble abode.

“oh,”

colin turned his gaze away from his son and to you. usually, the sight of you in his clothes, dinner ready, and soft music playing would have made him more laid back than he was at work, but seeing your hurt expression, dinner ready, and his son still awake, he knew he messed up.

he carefully placed his son back down, letting him shuffle back towards you, “y/n, i- work just caught up, and chief- chief said we have to- and we needed to talk- talk about the case, and i forg-”

pushing aside his stuttering excuse, you forced out a smile and looked at mare, who was just standing there awkwardly, “mare, hey,”

“hey, y/n,” she sent you a tight-lipped smile.

you grabbed reggie and placed him up in his high chair, “c’mon, dinner.”

colin stepped forward and tried to make you look at him, “y/n, i-”

you looked at him with a blank face and replied sternly, “sit down and eat, zabel,”

dinner was awkward and tense, to say the least. colin and mare were exchanging information and questions about the case whilst you were glaring at your husband every once in a while, feeding your son amidst the clattering of utensils and chatter.

there was a moment where silence filled up the room, the discussion of the case long over.

“delicious dinner you made, y/n,” mare cleared her throat, trying to diminish the awkward silence.

“yeah, dinner’s amazing, sweetheart.” colin agreed, trying to get to your best side by complimenting your cooking skills. he wasn’t lying though, it did taste immaculate.

“thanks, mare,” you replied, looking up for a second to acknowledge her, and only giving colin a side-eye.

you were still upset.

“auntie mare, you have cool nerf guns at work?” reggie asked, shaping his mashed potato into a small mountain.

mare blinked, looking between your son and you, “uh, yeah.”

“that’s cool!” reggie’s eyes widened in stupefaction, “you catch bad people like dad, too, auntie?”

mare hummed, sipping on the half-empty beer in her hand.

he whispered a small wow, before talking once more, doing an excellent job of clearing the aura of the room, “like spiderman? spiderman catch bad people, too, auntie! like a superhero,”

“mommy doesn’t catch bad people but she’s my fav’rite superhero.” reggie bragged, beaming at you as you wiped the potato off the corner of his mouth.

as your look softened, you kissed the nose of your son, “thanks, baby. that’s very sweet of you,”

colin smiled, slightly feeling bad for spending less time with his family. he knew that the case they’re working on is important, but he vowed that family always goes first and disregarded that- resulting in you and reggie missing him and colin forgetting that he has a family that he goes back home to.

smiling once more, you stood up, “c’mon, now, say goodnight to auntie mare, alright? we’ll get ready for bed and i’ll read you your favorite bedtime story, ‘kay?”

“but you said we’ll watch spiderman with daddy tonight,” he pouted, arms crossing as he slouched back on his chair.

you sighed, “i know i did, reggie, but daddy has some work to do. he needs to talk about catching the bad guys with auntie mare.”

“okay…” he frowned, raising his arms so that you could get him out of his chair, “good night, auntie mare and daddy.” you nodded politely to mare as you prepared your son for bed.

once he and mare finished off their deliberation on the case, colin got ready for bed and walked into your shared bedroom. seeing you curled up on your side, and asleep, colin sighed.

he never liked sleeping when he knows that you’re both going to bed with a heavy heart. the both of you always fixed things through before heading to bed. ending the night with soft kisses and cuddles.

but that wasn’t the case this time, so he got in under the comforters and turned off the lamp, debating whether or not he should wrap his arm around you.

deciding against it, he kissed your forehead instead and turned to face the other side.

reggie’s eyes slowly fluttered open, it was still dark outside. you promised that the three of you will be spending time together to watch spiderman once his dad got home, but reggie was too avid.

rubbing his eyes, he grabbed his plushie and opened the door of his bedroom, slowly waddling his way to your bedroom, whispering to himself to be careful not to hit anything.

a careful shake on colin’s arm woke him up, he let out a confused groan before begrudgingly opening his eyes.

“reggie? what’cha doin’ up, buddy?” he croaked out, rubbing his face in disarray. his gaze fell onto the clock, 02:34 am.

reggie slowly climbed onto the bed and colin opened his arms to bring him in, “just missed you so much, dad,”

colin’s heart ached. he carefully brought his son in the middle of the bed and let him cuddle further into his hug.

“mommy and i watch superhero movies, but i miss when you copy them in silly voices,” reggie mumbled, slowly feeling the sleepiness take over once more.

“‘m sorry, reggie, i’ll make it up to you and mommy tomorrow, okay?” said colin, he kissed his forehead and rubbed soothing caresses on his head to lull him back to sleep.

the chirping of the birds and the blinding light of the sun seeping through the window served as your wake-up call.

slightly turning around in bed, you sighed as you didn’t see colin in bed anymore. you didn’t know what to expect, of course he’d go back to work.

when you fully turned, you were confused to see reggie sleeping peacefully beside you, arms securely wrapped around his spiderman plushie.

you were about to stand up and make some breakfast when the door suddenly opened. the sight you’re suddenly seeing made you double-take, making sure that you weren’t dreaming.

colin carefully kicked the door a little wider, trying to balance the tray in his hands. when he looked up, he saw that you’ve already woken up, a dazed look on your face.

he smiled, “hey, you’re up. just in time for some breakfast in bed,”

“i thought you were at work,” you sat up, leaning against the headboard.

“made some calls with the chief a while ago, gave me the rest of the week off,” he said, he lowered the food tray on the bedside table and made his way towards reggie.

“reggie?” colin whispered, shaking the little boy a bit to wake him up, “reggie, wake up, buddy,”

he stirred a bit, whining at the sudden disturbance of his sleep.

“reggie, wakey-wakey,” he cooed, running a hand through his son’s hair, “hey, look. i made breakfast, we can watch a movie while eating like i promised, remember?”

“daddy?” he whispered, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake up.

“yeah, c’mon, sit up,” colin raised him slowly, resting him beside your arms, “there we go, now…”

“for breakfast,” he grinned, grabbing the tray and placing it on your lap. he grabbed reggie’s sippy cup, containing his favorite hot chocolate.

“choc’late?” reggie beamed, placing a hold on the bottle to warm his hands up.

“yeah! now, scootch over, we’ll eat together.”

glancing over your husband, a ghost of a smile appeared on your lips. you watched as your two favorite boys interacted, making up for lost time.

as reggie munched on his pancakes, a marvel movie playing on the television, colin sipped on his coffee and turned to look at you.

feeling the weight of his stare, you shifted your gaze away from the movie and stared right back, “what is it?”

he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, “it’s just- i’m sorry, y/n. i know i haven’t been around much, spending too much time at work and little time with you guys. i just wanted to make it up to both of you.”

you smiled softly, placing your cup down, and leaned a bit to kiss his cheek, “s’alright, colin. you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

grinning widely, the both of you turned your attention back to your son who’s babbling about how pepper potts and tony stark are like his parents.

add yourself to my taglist!

general taglist: @daltonacademia @inks-and-jinx @silencioe @oldschoolkiddo @midnightgremlin @inglourious-imagines @peterssweetpea @iwritesiriusly @fives-cup-of-coffee @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @band--psycho @marswilson24 @miraclesoflove @chokemepansy @spideyspixies @lolooo22 @justfangirlthingies @mypainistemporary @remugoodgirl @tatestripedsweater @gryffindorgirl @hellounicorn @l0vely-lupin @undeadcortez @thatspookyagent @evanmybeloved

colin zabel taglist: @xmaximoffic @raincoffeeandfandoms @tatesrubbersuit

[bump1nthen1ght]

Pack Tactics (Werewolf x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Male!Werewolf

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Established Couple, Angst with a happy ending

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2896 words

Summary: You are in a wonderful relationship with your sweet partner, Gray. But this far into the relationship, you’ve yet to tell him you have no intentions ever of having kids. You can’t help but wonder, how will your child-loving werewolf boyfriend will react?

Request: I live for very specific comfort! No pressure if this doesn’t inspire you or if you just don’t want to write it obvi.... but could I have a f!reader x m!werewolf where the reader is 100% sure she doesn’t want to have kids ever never ever in any capacity and is worried about how her werewolf bf is going to react, worried she’ll be dumped or something (ya know cause idk I feel like werewolves are built with a breeding kink and like into the whole having a lot of pups) there can be smut if you want!! I love me some dramatic angst comfort :)))))))

A/N: Sorry this took so long y’all, school and stuff has been kicking my ass. But writing this sweet little fic has been a nice reprieve from my work. Hope you enjoy!

“Alright, I’ll get the chicken, the asparagus, and the pasta. You’ve got the wine and the dessert?”

“Sure thing.”

The two of you nod, Gray stepping away from the grocery cart before you call out to him.

“And not one of those huge tubs of ice cream.”

Gray emits a dramatic whine, pouting.

“But the big one is 25 cents cheaper than those little pints. It’s practically free!”

You furrow your brow and pat him on the shoulder.

“Not if we don’t finish them, they aren’t. Now go.” Gray rolls his eyes, clutching his heart and throwing his head back. You playfully push him, walking away with the grocery cart and towards the deli section. You can see the top of Gray’s wild brown hair as he moves into the next aisle, his 6’5” form towering over all the little old ladies who usually crowd the store.

You’re browsing the chicken, trying to decide between 2 breasts or a full rotisserie, when a familiar sound reaches you.

“Oh! If it isn’t ____.” You forcibly paint a smile, fingers automatically clenched around the stellafoam package as you turn to see your next door neighbor Mrs. Star. Her teased, bleached blonde hair teeters on top of her head, bobbing back and forth with the clack of her neon blue heels. While you can respect the 60-year old for digging her feet in and refusing to update her wardrobe from the 80’s, her pension for gossip is a little less admirable. “Shocked to see you out and about, what with that big ol boyfriend of yours.” She says, blue eyeshadow crinkling into a wink and nudging you with your elbow. You wheeze a bit, quickly covering it with a laugh. “Back in our honeymoon phase, Richard and I barely left the bedroom. And he was half-way balding back then, not the babe-a-rama you got going over there.” Mrs. Star’s laugh reaches a pitch almost too high for your human ears to pick up, maybe even giving Gray 2 aisles over a headache.

“Well, y’know, gotta keep our energy up.” You wince, immediately berating yourself for that comment. Mrs. Star throws her hand up in a “oh, you” gesture, letting out another half-whistle half-screeching chuckle.

“Oh I do, honey, I do.” She sends you another dramatic wink, which you return with a shaky smile. The corner of your cart bumps into hers as you begin walking along the meat aisle, trying to forcibly end this interaction. But Mrs. Star pulls off an impressive turn with her cart and strolls alongside you. She does little to hide her wandering eyes, trying to piece together any juicy info from your groceries. “So, are you two trying for kids yet?”

The wheels squeal to a sudden stop, forcing you to choke on your saliva as the shopping cart’s handle digs into your stomach. You keep your gaze locked on the frozen steaks  and turkeys, already way past the chicken you meant to grab.

“Uhhh, no. We’re not really in the phase of our relationship yet.”

Mrs. Star clicks her tongue, pressing her hand to her chest in a show of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, dearie. Old habits you see, whenever a new couple moves in together I assume they’re halfway to the wedding already. You young kids like to take it slow, huh?”

You nod, hastily grabbing a package of buffalo wings, hoping for an excuse to escape this conversation.

Mrs. Star continues to walk by you, her cart blocking off any convenient means to leave unless you significantly pick up her speed. Her eyes glance over the sweats sat in a display in the center of the aisle, humming a small tune.

The end of the aisle is approaching, you’re almost home free! You ready your feet to book it with an excuse, but Mrs. Star clears her throat and begins to speak.

“Now dearie, I don’t mean to pry-”

What do you call these last 3 minutes, Star?

“But I’d at least pop on a ring on that finger soon. Someday someone’s going to snatch that boy up like a piece of meat, saying all the right things. Men got all those suspicions about over-the-hill pregnancies, his eyes might start wandering. That’s how my first divorce went, so I should know.”

You pull your cart to a stop, breathe catching as you look at Mrs. Star, shocked. You can handle some inappropriate questions, but to question your boyfriend’s loyalty and insulting your relationship is crossing another line. Your brows furrow with a simmering anger, your cheeks heating up as you're ready to let loose.

“Well, Mrs. Star, if you must know I have the most wonderful boyfriend on this side of the planet, and unlike your deadbeat first husband, he’s as loyal as they can be.” Mrs. Star looks at you, eyes widened and right hand halfway to grab a pack of oreos. You huff, pushing your cart away from hers and towards the cash register. Right before you leave her sight, you turn back to her with a simpering smirk. “Have a great day, Mrs. Star!”

Your heart is heaving with anger, prepping a rant to Gray about the horrible interaction you just had. On the other side of the store, you spot Gray, his curly hair all tussled, holding a large Rosé and a package of ice cream sandwiches. Just the sight of his back calms you a bit, excited for some delicious food and late-night cuddles. You jog a little towards him, but slow down when you see him crouch down, looking at something hidden from your sight.

You turn your shopping cart slightly, trying to peer behind his massive form, and freeze.

Gray’s sticking out his tongue, pushing up his nose, and making many more silly gestures to a baby in a stroller. The baby laughs, it’s chubby cheeks bright red as Gray blows another raspberry, thrashing its arms up and down with joy. The dad is laughing at Gray’s antics, leaning down and patting his kid on the head.

Gray promptly stands up, sending another big smile to the kid, before waving goodbye. The six-month-old waves back, uncoordinated and decidedly adorable. Gray laughs, turning away and walking towards you.

Your feet feel cemented to the floor, heart down in your stomach.

He’s a natural, you think, nausea building up in your throat.

Gray was the oldest of eight, not a large number for a werewolf family. You adored them, and they you, but Gray had a way of dealing with his youngest siblings. Whether it was letting them climb all over him like a jungle gym, or attending imaginary tea parties, Gray was a pro. He was the guy to cram himself into a tiny chair at the kids table, eating tiny cookies and cracking jokes. ‘Dad’ seemed to be stamped into his very being, the cuddly werewolf with a love of children. He’s any mother-in-law’s dream.

But all those sweet things turn sour when you think about what Mrs. Star said. Gray, moving on without you.

Gray’s eyes light up when he sees your cart, jogging over and holding up the bottle of wine like a prize.

“Hey!” He says, quickly sliding an arm around your waist and giving you a peck on the cheek. “I got your favorite, and those delicious mint-chocolate sandwiches.”

His happy voice and comforting touch help abate whatever it is your feeling, but the way Gray’s brow furrows tells you your  discomfort is present in your eyes. “Is everything okay?” His large hand comes up and rubs your shoulder. You give him a shaky smile, fighting away negative thoughts with a bat.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

---------

Wet fur presses up against your bare neck as you lazily stir the boiling water, Gray’s shifted muzzle now snug in the crook of your shoulder, the white flecks across his dark fur peeking into your periphery. Your free hand instinctively goes back to scratch between his ears, causing him to let out a satisfied huff, hot air blowing across your chest.

“That smells good baby.”

“It’s just salt and water Gray. The pasta’s barely al dente.”

Gray laughs, turning his head  slightly so he can press a small kiss onto your cheek.

“You could make even that taste delicious, ____”

You dramatically roll your eyes, pushing away his chin as he continues to peck and nip at your neck. After showering Gray always made sure to rub in some cherry-blossom leave-in conditioner into his fur. The artificial perfumes just lightly touch your senses, but the mental connection they have to Gray make them smell that much sweeter. You turn and give him a quick kiss on the lips, patting his shoulder once more.

“Do you mind setting the table? Maybe get started on those messy dishes?”

“No problem.” Gray mumbles, reluctantly pulling away from you and tugging up the towel that hangs loose on his hips. He barely needs to reach for your fancy plates on the top shelf, his chest muscles flexing and bicep taut. Even with his thick fur, you can see the bone of his clavicle which accentuates his long neck.

God, he’s so hot.

You think, smirking a bit as you continue stirring.

And all mine.

You hum, but the cheery mood you’re in quickly sours once you remember your conversation with Mrs. Star. That small seed of doubt seems to grow and leech from your chest.

2 years into this relationship and the two of you have only danced around the conversation of the future. You of course had agreed on living together, what your career paths looked like, even the potential of getting married in a couple years, but never kids. As two 20-somethings, you felt like you had all the time in the world.

But the thing was, you didn’t really need all the time in the world.

You didn't want kids. Even with your family or your neighbors needing that your opinion “might change some day,” you were confident in that decision. Not that you hated them, you just could never picture yourself being a mom. A fun aunt, maybe, but never a mom. It wasn’t even a point of contention in your own mind; The picture of you, your partner, and maybe a couple of pets thriving into your elders was bliss enough.

You sneak a glance to Gray, now clothed and back turned to you as he sets the table. He’s diligently folding the napkins into  fun shapes, a ritual he does every date night. From the hole in his jeans you can see his tail wagging, content as he hums to the low radio playing on the window sill.

A smile crawls onto your face, a small giggle escaping you as you watch Gray’s hips bob to the beat, silently mouthing the words. You snort as he does a dramatic little shoulder shift, Gray’s head whipping back towards the kitchen as you throw your hand over your mouth.

“What, don't you like my moves?” Gray says, shimmering his shoulders again, a large grin across his face.

“They could use some work, Kevin Bacon.” Gray clutches his chest, throwing his head back in mock pain.

“You wound me. After all these years, you would cut me so deep?”

“Sure would.” You turn back towards the simmering pasta, setting the wooden spoon on the rim and brushing your hands on your jeans. “Oof!” You squeak as you yanked away, Gray wrapping his arms around your waist, twirling you in a stumbling circle.

“And how ‘bout now, m’lady?” Gray simpers, eyebrow cocked. Your hands slap his chest as you laugh. He lets your feet back down on the floor, but keeps his arms locked around your waist. The two of you slow dance to the beat, and when the chorus hits, Gray gives his worst rendition possible. You bemoan and feign plugging your ears, but find yourself singing along anyway.

Everything about Gray is warm and bright, from his goofy grin to his excitable tail to his two left feet. He adds that pep of energy to your daily routine, pulling you out of an exhausting cycle for a quick jog to the beach or an episode of your favorite drama. Gray fills out all of those little spaces, makes them a little less gray.

Your head rests against his chest, feeling the fur through the fabric of his t-shirt as the two of you sway back and forth.

You want it to stay this way.

But that pestering weed squeezes your heart again, forcing images of Gray with a kid on his shoulders. Showing up to little-league football games with a big cooler and a “#1 dad” T-shirt. All those little moments, all without you.

You can’t fight the deep sigh, pressing your face even deeper into Gray.

Just let me have this. Just this moment, just for now.

-------

“Ugh, I think my stomach is going to explode from excess-pasta.”

Gray huffs, laying his head on your lap as the two of you slump onto the couch. His tail wags lazily, flickering back and forth as his legs swing over the coach's side, his long torso bunched up as he curls into you. The fur of his head is soft as you twist your fingers into it. “But I gotta say, what a way to go out.”

You giggle, losing your thoughts in his soft fur. Gray lets out another deep breath, nuzzling his face into your hand. You brush over his cheek with your  thumb, admiring the cheekbone you feel just underneath.

But that burning question refuses to leave your mind, and you ask it without even thinking.

“Do you want kids, Gray?”

Gray’s eye’s stay closes, his posture relaxed as he sinks into your massaging fingers.

“Hmmm, maybe. Never really thought too much about it. Why?”

Your throat dries up, mind reeling. It wasn’t even a definitive yes, but your heart is still reeling. Your fingers pause and Gray's eyes open. He shifts his head when he sees the look on your face, concerned. “Babe?”

You nod, eyes still wide, trying to fight off the inklings of a panic attack. Gray pushes himself up on his elbows, paw quickly coming to caress your cheek. “Baby, is everything alright?”

You find the energy to breathe, and suck in deeply. Your heart begins to slow down as you look into Gray’s yellow wolf eyes. You dig your cheek into his large palm, smelling the perfume of his conditioner.

“Yes, sorry, I just-” You pause, taking another deep breath. “I ran into Mrs. Star in the grocery store, and-I’m sorry I’m overthinking things.” You mutter, patting yourself  on the cheek as to snap yourself out of your mood. Grays other hand rubs the back of your neck.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here. Did she say something?”

“No-Well, yes. It’s silly, typical Star things. She just brought up how ‘ought to get started having kids, and it just-” You let out a shaky sigh, pulling away Gray’s hand with your own and looking him straight in the eye. “I don’t want to have kids, ever.”

In Gray’s eyes, you expect to….something. Confusion, disappointment, maybe? But instead, all you see is relief. Gray rests his paw on your thigh, squeezing it.

“_____, is that what you’ve been worrying about?” You nod, throwing your eyes back down, but Gray tilts your chin towards him. “If you don’t want kids, we won’t have kids. Simple as that.”

Your eyes widen and you pull your face back.

“Seriously? But-what if-”

“____, I grew up with eight siblings. I’m going to have to deal with more nieces and nephews then I can count on my fingers and my toes, I think I can handle not having kids.”

A weight lifts off of your chest and you slump forward into Gray, pressing your forehead against his clavicles as you let out a long, relieved sigh. He laughs, patting your back and kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry you had to deal with this all day, I didn’t even realize you were so upset.”

You slap his chest, letting out another frustrated sigh. With him? No, but yourself, and Mrs. Star, for stirring up nightmares for no damn good reason.

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine for being so paranoid.” You press your chin up, pouty lips admiring your boyfriend's face. “I’m sorry for freaking out. She really got me into my own head.”

“No apologies needed baby.” Gray says, giving you a small peck. You send him a cheesy smile, chasing after his lips with a couple of small kisses. A low rumble growls out from his chest as you nip at his jawline. Behind him, you hear his tail begin to hump on the floor.

“Hmm, does that mean you feel better?” You nod, pressing another kiss into his pulse point.

“Yes, thank you for letting me get that out.” Another kiss, now on his Adam’s apple.

“Welp,” Gray says, quickly adjusting himself. In another second, you yelp as he picks you up by your butt, legs quickly wrapping around his waist, “Let’s give Mrs. Star something to talk about, hmm?”

You throw your head back with a laugh, clinging tight to his chest as Gray blows a raspberry into your neck. “That good with you, my lady?”

You nod, giving him another kiss on the lips as he carries you off into the bedroom.

Yeah, you have it good.

[desmondkane-of-ao3-fame]

Random idea- Skarlow in a soulmate au? Like the ‘initials of your soulmate are on your wrist’. How do you think that would play out?

That could be fun. I’ve had this one idea for a bit, actually, where each of the tracks have their own version of a soulmate finder thing. Someone destined for a Bard hears a beautiful melody whenever they’re near, those destined for a Plant soulmate grow flowers in their hair, that sort of thing. It’s not super well thought out or anything, but I like the idea of something where Skara has to constantly pick petals out of her hair, Willow tries to drown out a full-blown symphony, and they both walk past each other every day going “Who the heck could my soulmate be” without even considering the other until they realize the obvious.

As for like, how they’d act in a soulmmate world, hmmm.

Skara would be a full-blown romantic. Even as a little girl her favorite stories are those of hero’s saving beautiful maidens and handsome princess who turn out to be their soulmates. She memorizes all the different ways to spot a soulmate, for all the different Covens. She dreams of whisking her perfect dream to a magical castle together to live out their lives as royal partners! So imagine a young Skara’s thrill when one day at camp, out of nowhere, a flower blooms in her hair! The prettiest way of discovering her soulmate! And it mean’s she’s a member of the Plant track? But Skara’s still in Baby Classes. Where could the soulmate be? So she looks around: There’s not a whole lot of people around, but none of them are really plant-y. There’s Boscha, who’s super into Grudgby, not plants. There’s Amity, but she heard her parents say she’s a natural at Abominations. And then... there’s this weird girl. Kinda cute, but really weird. She’s playing in a makeshift tent with Amity. And it takes Skara a second to remember that it’s a girl Boscha told her about. Someone Boscha called a weakling. Half-a-Witch Willow?

Willow doesn’t really care much for romance or soulmates. To her, it’s all silly grown-up stuff. She just wants to play with Amity. She’s not her soulmate, but she’s still her best friend, and that’s all Willow cared about. Then, one day at camp, while playing with Amity, she hears a faint little song. It’s not really loud, and it’s very pretty, but Willow doesn’t know where it’s coming from. Maybe it’s a siren? She’s heard about those. After a minute, the sound is faded, and she just shrugs it off and keeps playing.

Years pass, and things change. For Skara, she’s grown a bit bitter over the idea of finding a soulmate. She still want’s to find them, her, him, whoever. But she can’t find them at all! Boscha’s in Potion, and both Amity and that girl she used to hang out with are both Abominations. Plus, Amity and Boscha never heard anything that day, so the only explanation was maybe it was someone who was hidden from sight. Or worse, it’s a stupid fluke, and this whole soulmate thing is dumb and stupid. So she just tries to forget her stupid fantasies of sweeping a wonderful partner off her feet and just moves on. But sometimes, when Skara scratches her hair at school, she finds a spare little flower. But it’s weird, cause that only really happens after Boscha insists on finding Willow...

Willow, meanwhile, has been going through a rough patch. For several years. She’s mostly tries to keep her head low, avoid Boscha and her former friend Amity, who now bully her for being 'Half-a-Witch.’ Meanwhile, her only friend is Augustus Porter, a cool kid she’s glad she’s friends with! But he also doesn’t really care much about soulmate stuff. It’ll just happen, he says, so there’s no reason to work himself up about it. But Willow is a bit less sure. She wouldn’t mind someone coming in to help her through all these tough battles. To care about her, hold her, comfort her, in a way Gus and her dads just can’t. Still, though, she’s not sure who it could be, or what to look out for. All she knows is she hears this weird song in her ear every once in a while. It’s lovely and all, but why does she only hear it whenever she see’s Boscha, Amity and... who’s that one friend always hanging around Boscha, scratching her hair? Skary?

Eventually, Willow meets an awesome, wonderful friend: Luz the Human! But she isn’t really sure if she could be her soulmate; nothing weird happens when she’s around her. But after Luz helps her change to the Plant track, things get so much better for Willow!

Skara realizes, meanwhile, that she is an absolute idiot. When she’s scratching a flower from her hair and see’s Willow striding down the hall with Gus wearing a green Hexside uniform, it clicks in her mind that she and Boscha have been bullying her soul mate for years! It wasn’t really something she tried to do or anything! It was always Boscha’s idea, she was the one who liked to do it and.. but Skara was involved. She always watched on, never said anything against it, sometimes even encouraged Boscha with compliments. She knew it wasn’t great but Boscha was her best friend so if she hated Willow she probably deserved it and... and Skara felt like crap. Not that it excused what she’d done.

Skara spent the first night after her realization wrestling with herself for being so stupid. The next day, she try’s to talk to Boscha. She tells her about her revelation, about being soulmates with Willow. She begs her to stop bullying her, to just leave her be and let Skara try and make things right with her. But Boscha just laughs at her. Skara’s either deluded or she’s just Half-a-Witch herself. And Skara’s hurt, but she asks again, only for Boscha to call her idea stupid. So, Skara, tired of Boscha’s crap, leaves. As she does, she starts feeling flowers growing in her hair, and she turns to see Willow coming down the hallway! She goes red, realizing that even if she tries to apologize, she doesn’t know what to say! ‘Hi, sorry my best friend and I used to bully you, but actually I realize were soulmates so wanna get dinner sometime?”

Willow comes across a Bard witch on the way down the school hall. She seems super flustered, her face is all red, and it takes a second for her to recognize it’s Skara. Ah. Willow prepares for an insult, but before anytihng comes she starts hearing a strange, beautiful sound. She tries to clean her ears, but she makes out Skara blurting out an apology and saying she’s not Boscha’s friend anymore before stepping away, confusing the heck out of Willow as she leaves a trail of... Petals?

Eventually, Willow starts to put things together for herself: her music, Skara’s flowers, everything. And it surprises her. Why Skara? Why would it be her, of all people, who was her soulmate? The idea confounded her! She didn’t know much about her other then she was Boscha’s friend and she’d used to hang around her when she bullied her but that was about- She’s stopped in her thoughts when she smacks into Boscha, who whips around in disgust. She just bemoans Willow, mocks her for being weak, but she’s angrier. She’s nastier with her insults, more aggressive in her mannersisms. Willow realizes it’s because she’s alone, and Skara’s left her. Willow attempts to interject but Boscha just get’s angrier. She shoves Willow, and she steps back. She’s about to summon a vine when she hears a familiar sound...

Skara hasn’t tried to see or think about Willow in a while. What’s there to say? After everything that’s happened, Skara and Willow couldn’t even be friends, much less soulmates! Could they be? Then, she spots Boscha shoving Willow, and she’s had enough. She has to intervene, has to stop her. She rushes in front of Boscha, holding her hands out. She won’t let her hurt Willow anymore. Boscha’s dumbfounded, floored by Skara’s move. She takes a step back, glares down at Skara, mumbles ‘Half-Witch’s,’ and steps off. 

Skara turns to Willow, asking if she’s ok. And she barely notices that her hair is now practically a garden of silver flowers in full bloom. Willow, meanwhile, hears a glorious symphony, but now she can make out everything Skara says without worry. She asks Willow if she’s alright, and she apologizes, and both girls, looking at the other, both staring into the others eyes without realizing it until Skara blinks and looks away, blushing.

Willow, blushing herself, thanks Skara, and asks her if she’d like to join the Plant witch and her friends for lunch. Skara, blushing, scratching at her flowers, say’s she’d like to. And Willow, smiling, holds out her hand. And Skara, blushing, accepts it. Soon, both girls were laughing, small petals trailing behind them as they both heard the most beautiful music in their entire lives.

[aliwritesss]

~ Labyrinth

Pairings: Eric x reader

Genre: fuckboy au!

Warnings: angst, slightly suggestive, slow burn, swearing

Based on this AU! Highly recommended to read it before you start the series, but can be read alone.

1/? Masterlist

-“… And remember! The deadline for the essay is in three weeks.”- You hear your History teacher’s voice but no one listens to him. The bell just ringed and that meant freedom.

-“ It’s Friday!!! Let’s do something fun.” You hear Kevin’s voice next to you. You thank the heavens and stars to have him in your life, you don’t know what you would have done without him all this time.

-“ What are you thinking?”

-“ Well… You know, everyone’s been on the edge these past months with the exams and all. So Juyeon thought I’d be fun to do a small gathering, only close friends.” He says with the smallest voice and you feel all your body tense up. If you knew one thing is that you couldn’t go to parties, not yet. Not when it’s been so long since you’ve seen him and you’re actually starting to move on. To wake up and not think of him.

-“ It sounds fun! But I think I’m gonna pass this time, I better start working on this assignment.”

-“ Cmon (Y/N), it’s been a month. You gotta go to your old self, I miss you. I miss us having fun.” It pains your heart to hear Kevin, you’d love to have the balls to go to their dorms and be yourself, to dance again till you can’t stand up, to laugh freely but you feel that the spark inside of you has died and you’re afraid that if you go, it won’t light up anymore.

-“ I promise you I’ll go back to my old self. You’ll get back your partner in crime, my little moon.” You say hugging him and exiting the class. -“ Just give me a little bit and you’ll get back your star.”

-“ The world better get ready once the moon and star duo comes back.” He says giving you one of his best smiles and you feel a little bit better. You’ve known him for so long and clicked since then. One day you two were in class and someone said you looked like the team rocket from Pokémon, always together being mischievous. And since then you baptized your friendship as the moon and star duo.

As you walk outside you feel his comment nag you in the back of your head. “Why do I have to feel so bad when he’s doing fine? Was everything a lie? Did he truly love me?” These thoughts have been bugging you lately and you’re starting to get annoyed. You thought you were doing fine but sometimes these dark clouds will come and shake you down. And it seems like today was one of these days.

“ So… Juyeon is doing a gathering huh? Do you realize that it means half of the campus is going, right?”

-“ Yeah… We told him only close people and Changmin said that meant around 50 friends.” He says, rolling his eyes. -“ Thank god we have Sangyeon and Jacob to keep him in check or else It’d be a nightmare.” And that makes you laugh because it’s true, you remember one night you were staying the night in their dorms and suddenly Sunwoo and Chanhee started arguing about the smallest thing. Sangyeon only needed to look at them to make them stop. It was so funny, you don’t want to mess with an angry Sangyeon to be honest.

-“ And… Here we go. I knew it.” You hear Kevin’s annoyed voice. -“ They’re asking me to buy drinks, it seems like more people are coming tonight. I have to go now bubs, but we should do something fun this weekend okay? Just the two of us.” He says while hugging you and you nod. Maybe that’s what you need, to start slowly coming out of your cave.

You start making your way to your dorm thinking about the million things you have to get done in these two weeks and you can feel your anxiety already coming. The pressure you’ve been feeling these past few days it’s getting worse everyday. And the worst of it, it’s that you don’t have anyone to talk about it. Unconsciously, you touch your necklace, feeling a little bit better. You look down to the tiny shiny star and remember the night he gave it to you.

-“ I’ll be your star, ready to guide you even in the darkest times, even when there’s no moon shining.” He said softly in your neck. You smiled at him and looked at the charm. It was a little star filled with crystals. Stunning.

-“ When you feel like giving up, remember that I’ll be here with you. Faintly.” Eric said, touching your necklace.

“Where are you now? Where are you now when I need you the most?” You think for yourself, It’s not like you weren’t starting to move on from him, which you are doing. But you were not forgetting him, and you wish you could.

You wish you could erase all these sweet moments, act like nothing happened. Act like him, cold and unbothered. Why did him have to play you? Was everything a lie? Everything he said, was just a trap to only have fun with you? You couldn’t trust your memories, it seems like you only could remember the good ones.

But what about that night you two had a fight on a party because he was with this girl, laughing and talking the whole night while you were alone? You still remember his words: “ Stop being a pain in the ass, if I wanted to hook up with her dont you think I would have already done it?”. And you being a silly naive girl in love, acted like it didn’t hurt you. Like he didnt had the power to destroy you in matter of seconds if he wanted.

And that was the reason you broke up with him.

Everyone knew you were his girl and god forbid anyone who dared to touch you. But that’s it, you were only that, his girl. He didn’t bother to put a label, you were there for him and that was enough.

-“ Eric what are we doing?”- You asked him the night you two broke up.

-“ What do you mean?”-

-“ What are we doing together? What is this? Are we exclusive? Are we truly in a relationship?”- You asked trembling, you weren’t ready to hear his answer.

-“ Not this again (Y/N). I told you I don’t want to talk about it and you keep bringing this up. I said you are my girl and that should be enough.”-

-“ But it isn’t. It isn’t when there’s a queue of girls waiting for you to get tired of me and drop me like a toy. And I had enough, I need to know what I am to you.” You said sitting in his bed.

-“ You are making me tired with all these questions. I said drop it, (Y/N). You know how I am and still chose to be here with me.”-

-“ I chose you bc you said that you couldn’t do this without me, Eric! You told me that I was special and-.”

-“ So? That gives you the right to be called my girlfriend?”- And that was the last straw. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, it’s like someone snapped you back to reality. Like you just woke up from a beautiful dream and got hit with the true world.

He loved you, but not in the right way.

He cared about you, but not enough.

You got dressed and started to pick yoiur things while crying. You needed to get out as soon as possible, even if it was 3 in the morning.

-“Cmon (Y/N) don’t be like this. I got mad and you know I say things I regret later. Please let’s talk in the morning when we are calm, okay? Babe please-“

-“ Don’t touch me, Eric. I’ve had enough. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep falling in love with you more and more when we are not in the same page. Not even in the same book.”- You said putting on your sweatshirt, well, his sweatshirt now yours.

-“ Are you serious? Are you going to be like this? After all we’ve been through?”-

-“ Exactly, after all we’ve been through you still think I don’t deserve to be your girlfriend. And let me correct you, you’re the one who doesn’t deserve to be my boyfriend. I’m tired of your shit.”

-“ I know you’re angry (Y/N) but I swear if you leave this room that’s it.”- He said staring at you. You gave him one last smile and closed the door. It was so late at night and you decided to bring this topic up… That was a stupid move of you to be honest, but it needed to be done.

You can feel your vision getting blurry with all the tears falling but you don’t care anymore.

-“ Star? Is everything ok?”- you feel Kevin’s sleepy voice coming from the other side of the hallway and you let out a sob. -“ Hey, Hey. What happened bubs? Why are you crying? Where’s Eric?”-

-“ I… I- I think we just broke up.” You said hugging him and starting to sob even harder.

- “ Oh gosh…” He said quietly while stroking your hair.

And after that everything was a blur, you only remember him and Haknyeon taking you to your dorm and sleeping there. Everyone knew what happened because they heard you two arguing but no one could bring the topic up. It was typical of you two to argue, but in a matter of hours everything was cleared. But this time was different and both of you knew it.

This time the damage was done and there was no going back now.

A/N: So it’s finally here!! The first chapter of this little series. Thanks to all of you for liking so much the AU and for telling me what you preferred to see on this series. It’ll be after the break up, but I thought it’d be nice to have a little context of why did the discussion happen and to see the dynamic of the relationship. Honestly speaking, I love Eric’s fuckboy vibes so much.. But still it pains me to see him acting this way :( I apologise for any typo or mistake! And remember you can ask in the comments or dms to be tagged and that requests are open!!

TAGLIST: @asherbl @fairycob @givememunjang

[flowercrown-bard]

Flora and –yikes! - Fauna

pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

word count: 3k

read on AO3

thank you @kitcatkim for letting me use your idea with the two flower crowns <3

summary: Jaskier is making flower crowns, naturally. Too bad no one warned him that bugs like to swarm around flowers

Content warnings: bugs, insects

--- "Geralt, wait!"

Jaskier didn't give Geralt the chance to protest or grab the scruff of Jaskier's neck to keep him in place. As Jaskier ran towards the wildflowers blossoming in a patch next to the road he could practically hear Geralt rolling his eyes in the way he grunted.

"Jaskier, we can't keep stopping every other minute just for you to gather flowers." Despite his words, Jaskier could hear him bring Roach to a halt. "What are you even going to do with them? Don't tell me you spent your last coin on a vase."

Jaskier huffed indignantly but didn't bother turning around to fix Geralt with a glare.

"Of course I didn't. If you please to remember, I used it to buy some more bandages because someone didn't bother to restock before rushing into a hunt."

"I remember," Geralt grumbled but there was something strange in his tone. Something that wasn’t gruff or dismissive at all. Something that might have even been the exact opposite of that. Jaskier couldn't name it but it made his heart skip a beat. "But fine. We can take a break. Roach could use it anyway."

She didn’t. She was stubborn enough to make it known when she wanted or needed to slow down and she had done no such thing since the last time Jaskier had made them stop.

"Make sure she doesn't eat my flowers," he called over his shoulder.

His smile widened as he plucked the most beautiful blue flower and added it to his already impressive collection. Maybe he had gathered too many flowers, but how was he to know how many he needed? He had never done this before. It wasn't as if he could just pluck flowers out of flower pots at Oxenfurt and he would rather not dismay a town's residents by raiding their gardens.

Besides, no garden could grow such beautiful flowers as blossomed on their own in the wild. At least that's what Jaskier hoped Geralt would think. He never seemed to appreciate the carefully cultivated beauty of cities when instead he could have the open road and woods.

Jaskier eyed his flowers critically. Though most of them had differently shaped and shaded blossoms, most of them were blue. Perfect to bring out his eyes. Hopefully. Surely.

Satisfied and a little giddy, Jaskier marched over to Geralt and thrust the flowers into his hand.

"Hold this," he said, fighting the unreasonable blush that crept up his cheeks.

Geralt's brows pinched together in confusion and he looked almost flustered. Still, he didn't hesitate to close his hand around the flower stems, perhaps a little too tightly, as if he was afraid of them falling if he didn't clutch them in a death grip.

"I-Jaskier, what are you-"

"I need both hands to do this," Jaskier explained and began searching for the best flower to begin with. Not that he had any idea what constituted as a perfect starter flower, but as long as he scrutinised the bouquet, he surely looked competent and there was nothing more attractive than a person who knew what they were doing.

Geralt frowned. "And what exactly is it you need both hands for?"

"Why, making a flower crown, of course." Jaskier beamed up at Geralt and randomly pulled a flower out of Geralt's grip to begin. "I mean, really, it's a shame that I haven't thought if this before. But a bard out there in the wilderness without flowers on his head? That's just wasted potential."

Geralt gave an amused hum. "Are you sure you want to put flowers on your head?"

"Absolutely." Jaskier's voice left no room for argument. "I am going to look beautiful with it."

Geralt is going to look at him and think him beautiful.

"What does it matter? There's no one here to impress."

Jaskier's hands faltered and just for a second his eyes darted up to glare Geralt.

"Who says I want to impress anyone?" His voice definitely didn't waver and there was no way to interpret his words as defensive. "Can't I just want to be pretty for the sake of being pretty?"

Geralt grumbled something dismissively. It was wishful thinking, but to Jaskier is almost sounded like "You don't need flower crowns for that."

More to hide his burning face than anything else, Jaskier turned his attention back to the flowers and started weaving - or rather chaotically knotting – them together.

Geralt let him work in silence, but whenever Jaskier glanced up to pull another flower out of the bouquet, he found Geralt's eyes on him. It made his neck feel hot and his chest tight.

Somehow, as if by some miracle, he finished the flower crown. It wasn't stunning by any means, but it was passable. Kind if pretty even. Actually, for a first try it was downright amazing.

Filled with excitement about his craft, Jaskier hopped the crown around his arm so he'd have both of his hands available again and made to work on Geralt's crown.

"Looks like you got too many flowers," Geralt said, lips twitching up.

"Don't be ridiculous." Jaskier rolled his eyes good naturedly and bound some more flowers together. "I'm making a second crown."

"You know Roach will eat the flowers before you'll be able to put them on her head.”

Jaskier's hands froze and his heart jumped into his throat. He had forgotten to ask Geralt if he even wanted a crown. Judging from how he didn't even think about wearing the crown himself, it was quite clear just how much he didn't want it.

Jaskier's eyes went to Roach, silently begging her for help, but the horse was just munching on some grass, giving him an unimpressed and perhaps slightly judgemental look.

"It's not for Roach." Jaskier blurted, thoughts stumbling over each other to find an excuse. "It's for me. They’re both for me. Obviously. Why would I wear just one crown if I could have two and be doubly pretty, am I right?"

He grinned at Geralt in a way that begged please kill me now and let this embarrassment be over. But Geralt didn't grant him that mercy but at least he didn't call him out in his nonsense either. Instead his lips quirked up and he handed Jaskier another flower, unprompted.

While working on the second crown, Jaskier started talking again. One might also say he was rambling. Anything to distract Geralt from the way Jaskier's cheeks were bright red and he was still cursing himself for his stupidity on the inside.

He told Geralt about how he had always wanted to wear flower crowns ever since he had read a story book about a princess with flowers in her hair as a child.

Occasionally, Geralt would grace his tale with a hum or a barely noticeable upwards quirk of his lips.

Jaskier took that as encouragement. He continued to talk about how his sisters used to wear flower crowns when they were young, about how Jaskier had always been envious about how pretty they looked with pink, blue and yellow flowers in on their heads. He reminisced about all the times he gifted flower crowns to his dance partners during Belleteyn and never got any in return.  

More than once it looked as if Geralt was going to open his mouth, but then he always thought better of it and contented himself with listening to Jaskier.

It was only when Jaskier eventually ran out of flower related things to talk about that Geralt spoke up again.

“You’re getting better,” he commented, nodding towards the now finished second crown.

Jaskier’s face lit up but he forced his voice to sound nonchalant and teasing. “Why Geralt, is that a compliment?”

Geralt’s lips twitched. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, that’s exactly where it’s going.” Jaskier winked and put both crowns on his head.

He felt a little stupid wearing both of them, but the sheepishness was quickly overshadowed by the giddy excitement of finally making his childhood dream come true.

A small giggle escaped Jaskier and he didn’t care how silly he probably looked; there was just too much joy bubbling up inside him that needed to be released somehow. He twirled and threw his head back laughing. Quickly he realised his mistake, when the crowns threatened to fall off. His hands flew to the flowers to hold them in place.

When he came to a stop, he found Geralt’s eyes fixed on him with an unexpected softness, though he quickly schooled his face into a neutral expression when he caught Jaskier’s eyes. It wasn't fast enough for Jaskier to miss and try how he might, Geralt would never be able to hide such a fond look from Jaskier.

"So?" Jaskier made a point of fiddling with the crowns as if he was righting a fancy little hat. "How do I look?"

Geralt contemplated him a long moment with a complicated expression. "Happy."

Jaskier's moth went dry. The way Geralt had said it made it sound like he meant so much more.

"Geralt-"

He let go of the crowns, but the universe saved – or damned - him from doing something stupid like take Geralt's face in his hands and kiss him. Now that he wasn't holding onto the flower crowns anymore, they immediately fell over his eyes.

Jaskier let out a little noise of surprise that very much wasn't an undignified squeak.

Geralt chuckled and had Jaskier not been squeezing his eyes shut to avoid having leaves poke them, he would have glared at Geralt.

As if was, he found that he couldn't be upset even when Geralt was making fun of his misfortune. Geralt's laugh was too beautiful a sound to ever want him to stop. Especially if Jaskier was the one making him laugh.

"Guess there were too many flowers after all," Geralt said and Jaskier could practically hear his smug smile.

Jaskier tried to lift the crowns, but he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began and he absolutely wasn't going to risk them falling apart because he tugged on the wrong one.

"I just miscalculated a little," Jaskier grumbled, but his own lips were stretched wide grin. "You know you could do the noble thing and save me from my predicament."

Almost immediately he felt the lightest touch on his cheek. For a second, Jaskier's heart sped up at how tenderly Geralt was touching him. But then it hit him.

Even if Geralt ever were to caress his cheek softly, he would not be able to do it that softly. In fact, the touch was so light it almost tickled.

Jaskier furrowed his brows and his heart began racing in earnest for a very different reason.

"Geralt?"

Something buzzed right next to his ear. Something that sounded very big and very crawly.

"Geralt!" Jaskier almost shrieked, but all the reply he got from Geralt the traitor was another laugh.

Another light touch as something landed on his skin, this time on his hands.

Immediately, he pulled them away from the flowers and clutched them protectively against his chest. He needed his hands. He couldn't let some insect sting his fingers.

He wanted to call out for Geralt again, demand that he help him, but the bug on his face chose that moment to crawl closer to his lips.

Jaskier snapped his mouth shut and held his breath.

"Now there's that blessed silence," Geralt teased as if he didn't even notice the danger Jaskier was in.

Mentally, Jaskier took back everything he had thought before. Right now he wanted to wipe away the smirk that undoubtedly was on Geralt's face. And if Geralt didn’t stop laughing, Jaskier was going to write the most scathing song about him, once he could open his mouth again.

Oh gods, but what if keeping his lips pressed together wasn't enough? What if one of those crawling things decided to go up his nose?

The buzzing around his head got louder. More insects landed on him and Jaskier could do nothing but keep his eyes and lips shut and pray none of the insects were dangerous.

He was tense as a bow string and his heart was thumping like a rabbit’s foot hitting the ground.

He could feel tiny legs all over him, could hear nothing but that horrible buzzing. He couldn't stop the whimper that escaped him.

"Jaskier?" All traces of humour were gone from Geralt's voice. In fact, he sounded concerned.

Oh. Oh no. If Geralt was worried, that could only mean that something truly bad was happening. Maybe one of the bugs had a venomous bite. Maybe one of the things on Jaskier's head was the larva of a giant centipede. Maybe one of them was a were-bug and Jaskier would get turned into a disgusting insect himself!

Jaskier wanted to leave. He just wanted to go back to civilisation where he was safe from those tiny monsters. Adventure be damned. Inspiration be damned. Flower crowns be damned. He would be happy if he'd never have to see another insect again. If being pestered by swarms of insects was the prize for walking the Path, Jaskier would not shed a single tear abandoning it. Good riddance.

If only that didn't mean that he'd also lose Geralt...

"Jaskier?" Geralt repeated, softer this time. He sounded closer.

Strangely enough, the touch if the insects disappeared and got replaced by another sense of tickling, but this was one warm and almost glowing. It washed over his skin and spread wider around him. Slowly, the buzzing grew more distant until it disappeared fully.

A warm hand brushed Jaskier's temple and the crowns were pushed back onto the top of his head where they belonged. Well, we're one of them belonged.

Carefully, Jaskier opened his eyes again. He let out a tiny gasp and then his breath got stuck again for a different reason. Geralt was standing surprisingly close to him, their chests almost touching. The hand not occupied with the flower crowns was twisted into an uncomfortable looking shape.

Quen.

A dome of warm golden light surrounded them. Jaskier hadn't known the sign could be used to keep bugs at bay, but as far as he was concerned insects did definitely count as fiendish enemies and he wasn't about to complain about the protection. Especially not since Geralt was looking at him with his brows knitted together in soft worry and his hand left the crowns to caress his cheek instead.

"I take it the story about the princess didn't warn you about the bugs?" Te corner of Geralt's lips twitched into a half-smile.

Jaskier shook his head and swallowed. "No, definitely not." He leaned into Geralt's touch. It was warm and comforting and Jaskier never wanted him to let go again.

Maybe... Maybe if this touch was the reward he got for bravely withstanding the terror of the insects, he could face the bugs again sometimes. Maybe. Perhaps being in nature wasn't too bad if he had Geralt with him.

"There's one thing the story did teach me, though."

"Oh?" Geralt's brows rose a little.

"At the end the hero gets a kiss." Before his bravery or foolishness could leave him, he leaned forward and pressed the softest kiss against Geralt's lips.

He expected the kiss to be over quickly, little more than a brush if lips, but Geralt's hand on his cheek travelled to the back of his head, holding him close.

Jaskier lifted his own hands, burying them into Geralt's hair. Geralt let out a soft sound and then a second hand found its place at the small of Jaskier's back.

Jaskier pulled back, just enough to speak, his lips nearly brushing against Geralt's with every word.

"Geralt, put the damn Quen back." His eyes narrowed. "I am not kissing you with bugs crawling all over me."

"Perhaps you could give one crown to me and share the burden?"

Jaskier drew back suspiciously. "You mean that?" he asked slowly, his insides twisting in excitement. "You would really wear my flower crown?"

Geralt shrugged. "I don't want you to complain about the bugs and the leaves in your hair," he grumbled, but his eyes shone with a fondness that made Jaskier's heart swell. The hand on Jaskier’s back gave a small squeeze and tugged him closer. "And I happen to like my hand right where it is."

Jaskier lifted his chin defiantly, mischief and another, softer emotion lighting up his eyes. "You can pretend not to like my voice all you want, but you just traded your blessed silence for my comfort. I know where your priorities lie."

Geralt hummed quietly, the smile on his lips getting wider and his thumb caressed Jaskier's cheek, coming to rest at the corner of his lips.

"Maybe I don't mind your voice too much when you're talking about something you like. Or when you're singing. Or laughing." He leaned forward, too fast for Jaskier to react and stole a quick peck. "And I prefer keeping you silent by kissing you."

Jaskier rolled his eyes and snorted. "Who knew you could be such a romantic," he deadpanned and shook his head fondly. "Truly, you know how to charm a man with your words."

"It's working isn't it?"

"Perhaps."

With a mental strength Jaskier didn't know he possessed, he let go of Geralt's hair and lifted one of his flower crowns off his head to put it on Geralt's instead.

For a long moment, he just stared at Geralt, admiring him. The colours of the blossoms contrasted beautifully with Geralt's hair. But that wasn't what took Jaskier's breath away. It was the fact that Geralt actually looked happy like this. Happy to be with Jaskier. Happy to make him happy.

"You know" Jaskier said with smug satisfaction as a bug with shimmering green wings landed on Geralt's forehead, "you're lucky I love you more than I hate bugs."

Geralt snorted. "Now who's the romantic?"

Jaskier could have answered with a quip if he wanted to. He most certainly had multiple quick-witted responses to that.

Too bad that he too liked kissing Geralt's words away.

And so that was what he did.

They only broke away again when Geralt's crown fell into his eyes. Jaskier burst out into a well-deserved laugh at Geralt's dumbfounded look. As much as Jaskier liked kissing him, he found that he also rather liked the way Geralt's eyes lit up when he joined the laughter.

He could get used to this. In fact, as he buried his face in Geralt's chest to stifle his giggles and could feel Geralt's heart beneath him, he knew that he could battle any creepy crawlies if it meant that he got to keep this.

---

tag list: @snowfea @diedfromembarrassmentlikeasim @thebloodletter7 @eleos-fawn @palefuckingmeme @irongal21 (sorry for tagging you unasked, but you seemed to like the idea when I posted it a while ago so I figured you might like this too)

[binnie-huaisang]

Silly Fight

Genre: angst, fluff(?

Pairing: Chan × reader

Words: 3.4 k

TW: Mental health issues, depression.

Also, this came out a little darker that I intended and by the end I didn’t have the heart to give it the final I was actually going to write, BUT if you wanna read the original ending I was planning, you can look for the “alternative” version in my blog where I added the original ending because apparently I like to make myself cry (:

Note: I'm sorry if there are some spelling or grammar mistakes, or if some expressions just don't make sense. English isn't my first language, but I promise I'm trying my best.

Chan and you started dating a few years ago, of course nobody knew that, except for your friends and his family.

At the beginning of the relationship you were really nervous all the time, always scared to make a bad movement or saying something that could maybe make him uncomfortable. That, and the fact that you didn’t even live in the same country, had you worried every moment of every day. You had always been an overthinker, and this certainly did no better to your condition.

However, things were going great, and it wasn’t too long for the little voices in your head to notice that. It was almost as if Chan and you were meant for eachother. It wasn’t like anything you had experienced before. Your relationship was one of those that you can only find in fairytales, and you knew that it was because both of you were so in love that every thing that could seem as a problem for other people, meant nothing to you.

Even with the distance, you would always be there for eachother. Every time he was getting frustrated over work or you were having a bad time because of college, you  would always be there to give support to the other.

Even if your personalities were very different, you barely fought, and it wasn’t because you weren’t able to see the other’s defects or mistakes, but because you knew that they were part of the person you loved and, in a certain way, you also had fallen for those things.

Yes, both of you were completely different worlds, but somehow, you made it work. Even after taking that big step that was making your relationship official, everything kept being the exact same way. Now, it wasn’t only your loved ones who would always tell you that you were basically soulmates, but also his fans and comrades.

Everything was just perfect, or at least it was until that afternoon…

You were visiting Chan after a few months of not seeing each other and, as usual, he took you to that coffee shop that was near his company building.

He was trying his best to act like everything was okay and that nothing was bothering him, but you knew him more than anyone in the world, and you could tell that something was off.

“Babe, is something bothering you?” you asked while caressing his hand over the table.

He saw the concern behind your eyes and that only made the guilt inside of him grow. He didn’t wanna do it, he knew it would end really bad for both of you, but he knew that if he didn’t tell you, someone else would, and that would be even worse.

“Everything’s alright angel” he lied. “Let’s eat, the food will get cold”, and there it was, that smile, the one that he uses every time something is bothering him but he doesn’t wanna tell you.

“Chan”, you called, making him look up to you. He could hardly look at you in the eye without getting nervous. He knew a fight was coming, and he was doing everything he could to hold it over. He was really trying, but he felt so guilty for being the reason for your concern.

Suddenly, the image of you crying in his bed popped into his mind. It was the first time he ever saw you cry, and no one could put in words how guilty and broken he felt for knowing that he was the reason behind it. Apparently you saw one of those mean comments people make on social media about him and you couldn’t resist it. 

You were the kind of person that never cared about what others said about you, but as soon as someone said something about your loved ones, it was on.

That was one of the hardest days for both of you. You were trying to give comfort words to each other, but it was useless. You could still not understand why would people be so mean towards the best person you’ve ever met, the one who was always there for anyone that needed some help. On the other hand, he would never forgive himself for making you cry. He knew it was because of him, and he was feeling so mad for making the one he loved suffer in that way. You were his whole world, his motivation on the hard days and his celebration partner on the best ones. 

You were everything he could’ve dreamed of, in his eyes you were just perfect, and the fact that he hurt you in some way was something that would never happen again. Or at least that was what he thought.

“Chan? Chan!” Your voice brought him back to reality. “Listen, I don’t know what’s happening, but you know you can tell me everything”.

“Well… Actually, there is something I need to tell you…” He finally said and you nodded. “I was talking with some people from the company the other day and… They asked me to talk to you about some things related to your podcast”.

Chan looked at you, examining every inch of your face, looking for any movement or expression that could let him know what you were thinking, but it was useless. Your expression was completely neutral.

However, in your head things were very different. You weren’t stupid, of course you knew what he was about to say. 

You and your best friend, Santiago, had a podcast where you would talk about random stuff, it could be mental health issues, cartoons, movies, or even political complains, it was basically two friends just talking to each other. This podcast had existed even before you knew Chan and it didn’t seem like there was a problem about it until some people of Chan’s company asked him to tell you that you should stop joking about your mental health online because it gave a “bad image”.

That happened just a couple months ago and you were still mad. Anyone who knew you knew that was your coping mechanism and they had the audacity to ask you to stop doing it. Of course you could just refuse to do it, but you didn’t want any problems, besides, after talking with Santiago, you both agreed that there were some comments that could actually be a trigger to some of your audience, so you ended up agreeing.

“What is it?” Your face could be inexpressive, but your voice revealed all the annoyance you were feeling.Of course, Chan noticed that and it only made him more nervous. He really didn't want to do it, he knew it was unfair, but he had to tell you.

“Well… It’s actually a very stupid thing, you will probably laugh when you hear it because it´s really stupid-”

“Just tell me” you said, cutting off  the babbling of the slightly scared boy that was sitting across from you.

“They say you should stop swearing so much”.

Chan was right, you did laugh, but it wasn’t for the reason he expected. You were so done with them. As much as you always hated the control they had over Chan, you could kind of understand it since he worked for them, but you didn’t, and the fact that they were trying to have control over you and your friend was unacceptable.

“You know what? I’m going to talk with them, I’m fucking done”. You said getting up from your seat. Even when you were keeping your voice in a low tone, some people turned because of the sudden move.

“Babe!” Chan took your wrist in his hand before you could start walking away. He didn’t say anything, but by the look in his eyes, you knew he wanted you to stay there and talk about it, and so you did.

“It’s just that… It’s so stupid!” You said a little more relaxed. 

“I know baby” Chan comforted you by caressing your left cheek.

“I mean, I would consider changing something if it made you uncomfortable, but I shouldn’t have to change because some people that don’t even know me think that I ‘swear’ a lot”.

“Well…” The panic showed on his face as soon as he realized what he had done.“

‘Well’?” You raised a brow. “So you think they’re right’“

“No! Of course not! I’m just saying that maybe you do swear in moments where it’s not completely necessary”. Despite his previous intent of calm you down, he was having some stressful days and he was beginning to feel tired.

“But that’s the way I talk!”

“Well, maybe the way you talk does give a bad image!”

“Oh, because I clearly care so much for my image! Why do you care anyways? You’re not even in the podcast!”

Chan let out a sarcastic laugh. “What did you say before? That you would consider changing something if it made me uncomfortable? Go ahead then, change it! Oh, wait. You won’t, because you are so used to people agreeing with you that whenever someone disagrees you just ignore it!”

You stared at him with a stunned look. Something inside you knew that none of you were thinking straight and that maybe you should stop, but you were so mad at him for agreeing with the people that were trying to control you, that you ignored that little voice.

“First of all, why do you all complain about it so much? Whenever I say a bad word or ‘swear’ or however you wanna call it, I do it in my first language, you don’t even understand what I’m saying so shut the fuck up! And second, it doesn’t even make sense that you are telling me that you are bothered because of my language! I never swear around you because I know that your holy ears bleed everytime someone says ‘fuck’. Why don’t you just tell me that you are so scared of them that you need to be a total jerk to me in order to make them happy?”

“Oh, so now I’m being a jerk? You know what? Maybe I am scared of them, but you are being selfish! You are not even thinking about how this can affect me!”

“Pleeease!” You said with a sarcastic laugh. “You’re no one to talk about it! You were the one who pushed me into revealing our relationship because ‘you didn’t want to hide anything from your fans’“ You mocked. “I wasn’t prepared and you still made me appear in front of a camera! You didn’t care what it would do to me, so don’t talk to me about being selfish!”

You could feel the tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You always tried to ignore the bad comments since they were minimum, but sometimes you couldn’t help being affected by them, especially when you were already having bad times.

“You know I’m sorry for that”. Chan said recovering from the sudden anger. He knew that he made a mistake by throwing you to the world like that and there wasn’t a day he didn’t regret it. 

“Well, that doesn’t make the death threats disappear”. As much as you tried to hold them, you felt the tears finally scape.

Chan was speechless, he wanted to say something, to hug you and say sorry for everything, but he couldn’t move. He was just there, sitting while he watched you fall apart. And the worst part was yet to come…

“I- I don’t care about this. I don’t care about those stupid coments and I wouldn’t care about  what your stupid bosses tell you if it wasn’t beacuse it’s always me who has to do or change something” Your voice was barely a whisper, but Chan could hear every single word. “My grades have been getting down, you know?” A sad smile painted your face. “I’ve been feeling bad for months and I cannot pay attention to my lessons. To be honest, I don’t even know if I like my career anymore, but I can’t quit, I don’t want to. I keep telling to myself ‘maybe it’s not the career, it’s just my depression, I’ll be fine in a few days’, but I’m not fine and I’ve been wanting to look for help but therapy is fucking expensive”.

Chan was looking at you completely devastated. He never knew you were feeling bad. Of course he knew about your depression, but you once told him that you’ve been feeling alright for more than a year now. How stupid he was for not noticing. He wanted to ask you why you didn’t say anything, why would you hide such important things, but, once again, he didn’t.

“The money I earn… I use everything to come here to see you because you are not allowed to visit me” You said in a more bitter tone than you intended. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not blaming you, I know this is your job but… It can be a little exhausting to be the one who always has to adapt, to be the strong one. I never say anything because I love you so much and I know I should support you because the path you chose is already hard enough but… I’m just… tired. I’m tired of everything”.

You didn’t even have time to react when your boyfriend got up from his seat and walked around the table to kneel in front of you and wrap his arms tightly around your waist. The initial shock fading as you heard his muffled crying on your chest. You were trying to comfort him by caressing his hair, but it was useless. After a few minutes, when both of you felt that the sobs of the other were fading, Chan finally looked up at you, sending a wave of guilt through your body as you saw his still teary eyes. 

Before you could say anything, he gave you a soft and long kiss on the forehead. The kiss was so full of love and emotions that it made you tear once again.

“I’m so sorry” He said with a raspy voice. “I’m such an asshole for not noticing. You’re always there for me and I just-”

“Shhh” You interrupted by caressing his cheek. “None of this is your fault. I shouldn’t have brought up the subject, this wasn’t the time to do it”.

“Hey, don’t say that!” Chan said as he lifted your chin to meet his eyes. “You’re right, I guess I’m taking more than what I’m giving, but this stops now. I will talk with my manager to see if he can fix something, and as for your therapy… I will pay for it”.

“Of course not!” You said with wide eyes. “I’m the one who has to handle this, I’ll find the way”.

“Angel, you don’t have to go through this by yourself, you have me now and I will not leave you alone… Not again”.

And with that said, he held you in his arms once again pulling you as closer as he could as if he feared you’d disappear at any moment. After a few seconds, you heard your boyfriend’s muffled voice again.

“Don’t say that again”.

“What?”

“That you are tired of everything, don’t say that. If you say that you’re tired of me, that you’re tired of college… I can take it, but please don’t say you’re tired of everything”. His words made you suddenly go pale. You didn't expect him to understand the meaning of your words, but he did. Even if you never told him the full story because you were so scared of him dismissing the matter, he knew you were struggling with something ever since you were a child. In fact, he knew more than you tought. 

As far as you knew, he was always very busy to listen to your podcast, but that was only partially true, since he did use to listen to some of the chapters. One of them was the one where you and Santiago were talking about the importance of mental health and how people should always ask for help if they feel like there’s something that’s not working as it should. In that chapter you talked a little bit about your experience with depression and you mentioned… Something. Something that you almost did in middle school. Of course, Santiago didn’t seem surprised, since he already knew about it and he only reassured you that you weren’t alone anymore, but for Chan, knowing about that situation really shocked him. Of course he never told you anything since he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but ever since he found out about this… Situation, he would find himself thinking about it in the most unexpected moments of the day. 

After thinking about what would be the best answer to the sudden request, you decided that a simple nod would be the only thing that wouldn’t make you burst into tears again, so that’s what you did.

“I still don’t want you to pay for my therapy tho” You said with a tired smile after your boyfriend had broken the hug just to start playing with your hands.

“We’ll talk about it later, angel” He said, smiling back at you, but this time it wasn’t a sarcastic or a nervous smile, it was a real one. “Now, why don’t we go back to the apartment? I will cook something delicious for you”.

“But we already have food here!” You said, letting out a little giggle at the ridiculous proposal.

You could see how the red color of his cheeks and ears became more intense before he leaned toward one of yours. “To be honest… I don’t know if I feel comfortable eating in a room full of people that saw me crying just a few instants ago”.

A sincere laugh escaped your lungs. You hadn’t thought about it until he pointed it out and he was right, it was kind of embarrassing. After a few more giggles from both of you because of the whole situation, you found yourselves walking towards the entrance while holding hands. It was weird, you knew that for most people, having that kind of discussion could've ended in so much pain, and even a breakup, but you weren’t like most people. Chan meant the world to you and you were the love of his life, which meant that he would not back down and he would not let anyone hurt you, even if that someone was you.

You were already walking down the street when you suddenly remembered something.

“Baby?” He looked at you with a sweet simile. “You don’t know how to cook”.

“Well, maybe by ‘cooking something for you’ I meant supervising the people who will actually cook for you”.

“Channie!” You whined, a little worried that his friends will get tired and refuse to keep cooking for you one of these days.

“It’s alright! Felix loves cooking for you! And Lino loves having you around, why would he refuse?” And there they were, the beautiful dimples you’ve been missing for so long. 

You stared at his face for a few moments and before he could ask why had you stopped walking, you planted a quick kiss on his right dimple, followed by a sweet peck on his lips.

You laughed at the flustered boy standing in front of you, your smile only getting wider as you felt him holding you by your waist and pulling you closer so he could hide his already red face in the curve of your neck.

“I love you _____“ He murmured, sending shivers down your spine and making you feel butterflies in your chest.

“And I love you, my angel“

“Hey! That’s my nickname for you“ He pouted.

“I know baby, but you truly are an angel to me“ “Stopthisatonceifyoudon’twantmetokissyoualloveryourbeautifulfaceohmygodIloveyoumuch“ You giggled again, barely being able to listen to his muffled words since his face had already found its way back to your neck.

“Channie… I’m sorry for starting that silly fight…”

“Hey, stop it! You had all the right to be mad! And it wasn’t a ‘silly fight‘. Actually, I’m kind of grateful that it happened, since it made me know how you were feeling”.

You were about to complain, but before you could, he planted a quick kiss on your hand and dragged you towards his body, making you get back to the pathway. “Let’s go angel! The faster we get there, the faster I will be able to start begging Minho to cook something for us”.

Hi! I’m sorry if this is too bad, this is my first time writing a short fic and it’s also the first time I write something this long only in english. If there are any grammar mistakes that you can find, feel free to send me a DM and correct me (:

©  binnie-huaisang 2021 All rights reserved. Translating or reposting is not allowed. 

[pseudofaux]

headcanons for comte, dazai, + your choice when they hear their s/o having a spicy dream next to them?

Oooooooh, I like this one a lot, and I liked it even more when I saw this follow up:

THANK YOU! 🥰 Ohohohoho, gonna have a field day with this one. This is a really great request, thanks for including my two favorites in there and letting me choose the third! 😚 Dazai’s gets a little dark/jealous and Mozart’s is... different... so if that’s not to your tastes, may wanna skip them (there are clear breaks between each character). I guess cw on all of these that I took the requester’s (A+) ask to heart. These situations are all in partnered relationships of great care and regard, but explicit consent is not here by the nature of the request. No one is in danger, these characters would never hurt each other, but these scenarios flirt and high-dive into >> dubcon << territory and two are a little dark. Please don’t read if that’s a fiction combo that makes you uncomfortable.

Comte takes her beauty rest seriously and takes great pride (and pleasure) in giving her the good sleep, so if she seems unsettled in her rest in his arms, he’s immediately alert and peering at her. He’ll brush any hair back from her brow and sniff-nuzzle at her temple like he can catch the scent of her dreams. He might be a bit of a fool generally but never in this: his woman is aroused in their bed, that’s not something a gentleman leaves be. Her rest is important, but her pleasure is paramount.

So he takes a middle path. There are things that he can do, as a pure blood, that lesser vampires cannot. And there are some things he, as himself, can do that others cannot, not even other pure bloods. They include whispering suggestions as he touches her (with so much gentleness and care), little scenes for her mind to make bloom in her dreaming. He thumbs one of her nipples through her nightdress and seeds the spring ground of her sleeping mind with erotic fantasies of being loved in front of a coliseum of people, public and shameless and loud. He brushes the lightest kiss imaginable against the top of her ear and whispers what he’d do to her underwater.

He’s very careful not to wake her. But he does continue to touch her as she relaxes into the dreams, and once she’s cum on his fingers, well. If her beautiful lashes and lips both part in blissful confusion, it’s his responsibility to make sure she closes them right up again, on his kiss, as he reminds her body what they can do in the waking world. Especially in the dark when their bodies are close and warm and she smells like bliss and he aches for her.

—|—

Dazai watches her without interacting. He doesn’t have Comte’s sureness of what’s going on inside her head, but he’s slept with more women so he has some sureness all the same. The tiny, unagonized moans in sleep... he knows what those mean. It makes him playfully, very lightly cruel, because petty jealousy simmers up fast. What’s she dreaming about, hmm? He can’t know it’s him, humans can never know each other’s minds so well. No matter what she’s say upon waking, he actually does try to wake her up, or at least test her wakefulness. He does it in soft ways: a whispered “Toshiko-san?”, a gentle drumming of his fingers on her shoulder. But when that makes her posture fall open in the bed next to him, his golden eyes narrow to see it, and his teeth come out. He puts a hand at either side of her head to hold him body over hers, does not bother to move her slip, and scrapes the top of her shoulder with his fangs, and when that has her whimpering and rubbing her thighs together— maybe one of her hands rubs dreamily as well— he puts just a little more pressure behind his teeth, enough to drag trails of heat over her chest. Whimpering becoming gasping makes him press his mouth to hers, firmly... it’s only the give of the pillows and the way they catch all the pressure that keeps her from waking then. He gets moody and kisses her with the intent of waking her up and fucking her, but her sleepy arms going around his back still him.

I was having the nicest dream, she confesses.

He hmphs.

You were nicer in the dream.

That melts him, and when his fingers touch her they’re mollified and apologetic, and he does what she likes best when he finds how wet she is. He gets her wide awake, so wide awake her eyes go wide for him, and his jealousy seems so silly and so small a thing.

But he keeps fucking her and keeps her awake until the sun rises. Just in case.

—|—

Mozart has zero idea what’s going on, he only knows that she’s not sleeping peacefully. Their hearts are intertwined but they don’t cling to one another in sleep, so he actually turns his back on her at first (!) and tries to go back to sleep himself... until she reaches out for him, hand slapping and then stroking his back when she finds him. Her touch is that way of hers, lingering and warm, and moving down the plane of his back and over his hip. It turns his brain to useless noise and he sputters and turns over before she can reach him. He grabs for her wrists with a frown but her sleeping face is so etched with need— he didn’t know, but now that he looks at her there’s no way not to— and her body is gently undulating on their sheets. He touches his forehead to hers and she’s warm, impassioned. He’s about to tut at her unconscious foolishness and figure out how not to hold this against her when his name comes out of her mouth, as though the breath hopes to travel to his own dreams.

“Wake up,” his whispers. She only sighs and her arm goes lax in his grip— she is somehow never doing as she is told! “Wake up,” he says again, now pleading and far from sure what to do with her.

“Bite,” she moans in her sleep. Never, ever does she do what she is told, what she should. “Please, please.”

Her hand surges forward and he is too stunned at the inhuman quickness to stop her. She throws the arm over him senselessly and seeks out his mouth as though it is some key she needs for an escape neither of them can really see. Her leg gets itself over his hip, unslow and fevered the way they only are with each other. His body goes hot like it must match hers degree for degree, and when she rocks against him he groans and grits out one more “Wake. Up.”

She hum-whines instead, ridiculous in her sleep, and he can stand that even less than her core grinding against him though the satin she wears to bed, all that she is arousing him beyond reason. So he puts his mouth on hers to stop her noise but her lips open and he falls into her mouth like always, seeking her as she sleeps and seeks him.

It doesn’t even work to shut her up, now there are whimpers studding their kisses, pinning all the world in place, especially the two of them tangled in one another. She slides her hand down her back and it is not done with the love she shows when she is awake, it is rapid, a wash of heat against the muscle that protects the side of his ribs. Her hand is already on him before he can do anything but choke out a cry that finishes just in time for her “touch me, too” to register in his useless brain.

What else is there to do? He touches her, fingers finding her sopping and trying to calm her as he arouses her. And he enjoys her touch, the precise feel of her hand a joy that he knows, the way it touches him foreign, proof she is not entirely herself.

She pulls him close, pushes herself closer to him, and uses his body as they continue to kiss, their tongues so much slower than their hands. She is sigh so sweetly and peacefully into his mouth as she fits herself around his fingers and uses the head of his cock against the needy—has he ever known such a need? even for sustenance, or for a perfect arrangement of notes?— crown of her sex and rubs him back and forth until they both begin to shudder. He spills in a mess, ground against her skin, one hand half tucked inside her and the other palming her bottom to keep her close. The stretch of his fingers should not be near as pleasant as he finds it.

Her sigh of his name is so satisfied it is as if some magic cast on her has fled the room and given her back to herself. She murmurs his name and shifts against him. He hates the squelch, sticky and unrefined, but something in the back of his brain itches to see it.

“Wake up or go to sleep,” he tells her. She does not answer, already well beyond him in dreams. Or so he must hope.

So he takes his time and looks his fill.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

True Love - George Weasley

Title: True Love Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Reader Summary: George may have married a girl his dead twin brother may have been in love with at some point but it’s really not what it looks like. A/N: this fic is born out of my hatred for a post I saw a few days ago that said George and Angelina only got together as a way to mourn Fred, and that they would eventually get divorced. Requests are open and feedback is always appreciated!

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George is tiptoeing past Roxanne’s partially opened door to get a glass of water when he hears the little girl call out to him.

“Daddy?”

George stops in his tracks and shuffles over to her door, peeking in the crack. The only light in the room comes from a pink everlasting fire Y/N had produced in a jar for their daughter to use as a night light a few weeks ago. Roxanne is curled up in a ball in her bed, drowning in her fluffy comforter. George and Y/N had tucked her in and kissed her goodnight a few hours ago, so he frowns when he notices that her deep brown eyes are open and blinking up at him.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” George asks as he pushes her door open.

Roxanne sits up a little, reaching out to him. “Can’t sleep.”

George smiles at her grumbly voice, sounding so much like her mother does when she’s tired. He enters her room with a small laugh and takes a seat on the edge of her bed. He strokes her mess of curls they call hair and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Well that’s no good, pumpkin. How can Daddy fix that?”

Roxanne, smiles up at him, leaning back into her pillows. “Can I get a story? Please?” she begs.

George lets out a chuckle. “Of course.” He starts to reach for the copy of The Tales of Beadle the Bard that Y/N had placed on Roxanne’s night stand a few hours ago after she had fallen asleep. But he stops in his tracks when Roxanne grabs his forearm.

“Noo,” she coos quietly. “A story from your head, Daddy.”

George raises his eyebrows and chuckles at her demanding tone. Yep, there is no denying that she is Y/N’s daughter.

“Of course, pumpkin, how silly of me.” He brings his hand that had been reaching for the book back and places it on her cheek. “Any requests, darling? I could always whip out the one about the brave knight who lost an ear in battle.” George winks at his daughter while gesturing towards his missing ear, causing her to giggle.

“No, not that one. You always tell that one,” she teases.

George laughs again, tapping Roxanne on her nose. “Well sorry,” he drawls. “How about the one where the three brave knights rescue the King from the dungeon using their flying stead?” George frowns slightly at the memory of his twin, a pang of sadness in his chest. George gives Roxanne a questioning look when she shakes her head. “What do you wanna hear then, pumpkin?”

“Tell me the story about how you and Mummy fell in love,” she asks, looking up at him hopefully.

George bites his lip, contemplating the idea. Y/N and George had never really told their kids the full story of how they met, considering that it was pretty questionable. All they had told Roxanne and Fred ii is that they had been friends while at school, and a few years after graduation they met again and fell in love. They never mentioned the fact that Y/N used to date Fred.

“Well sweetie you know that story. Mummy and I went to school at Hogwarts together, and went our separate ways after graduation and then we got together a few years after,” George explains, trying to dodge the question.

Roxanne rolls her eyes. “That’s the short version. I wanna hear the whole thing. Please Daddy?”

George sighs, he can’t resist her pleas. “Alright, pumpkin. I guess our story begins on the morning of May 3rd, 1998.”

-

George is sitting on the ground next to Fred’s body, mostly alone. There are groups of people scattered around the Great Hall, some mourning the loss of their loved ones, others waiting for Madam Pomfrey and the other Healers that arrived from St. Mungo’s to help them. Everyone seems to be leaving George alone, allowing him to spend a few more fleeting moments with his twin.

He’s looking down at his hands, tears streaming down his face, so he doesn’t realize that someone has joined him until she speaks.

“Hey, George,” Y/N speaks quietly, voice shaking.

George looks up at the sound of her voice. Y/N is sitting on the ground too, on Fred’s other side, tears streaming down her face. She’s covered in dirt and blood and George can’t imagine that he looks any better.

“Hey, Y/N,” he mutters after he clears his throat. His throat feels raw, probably from a mixture of the crying and the fact that he hadn’t spoken in a few hours.

George watches as Y/N stares intently at Fred’s face, her hand coming up to stroke his cheek. They’re quiet for so long that George jumps slightly when Y/N speaks up.

“It’s been years since anything has happened between us and yet I still feel,” she cuts off abruptly to let out a few sobs.

Y/N begins to cry harder and George places a hand over the one she has placed on Fred’s chest. He squeezes her hand tightly, wishing there was more he could do to make her feel better.

-

“Mummy used to be with Uncle Fred?” Roxanne asks, pulling George out of his thoughts. Roxanne and Fred ii had heard many stories about their dear Uncle Fred from both of their parents and various other family members throughout their lives. But George and Y/N made a point to make sure that no one ever mentioned her past with Fred. Not because she was ashamed at the fact that she had once been with Fred, but because she didn’t want to confuse them.

George nods, blinking away the tears in his eyes. “Many, many years ago, they were together. Back when we were at Hogwarts. Your Uncle Fred and I met your Mum when we were all in our first year at Hogwarts. You know we were all in the same house and played on the Quidditch team together. You’ve heard Uncle Harry talk about the Triwizard tournament, right?” George waits for Roxanne to nod before continuing. “We were all in our sixth year when that happened and there was this great huge ball on Christmas called the Yule Ball. Uncle Fred asked your Mum to be his date, and they dated for a few months afterwards.”

Roxanne purses her lips, thinking about what her father has just said. “And when Uncle Fred died, Mummy still loved him?”

“Not exactly,” he answers.

Roxanne groans and rolls her eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

George rolls his eyes playfully. “Maybe if you hadn’t interrupted my story you would know by now,” he teases.

Roxanne sticks out her tongue playfully but doesn’t say anything else.  

“So, I guess our story continues in June of 1999.”

-

“Hey George. The store looks great,” Y/N speaks, shocking George. He turns around from where he had been stocking a shelf, a smile appearing on his face when he sees the familiar girl standing in front of him.

George hasn’t seen Y/N since the day they cried together over Fred’s body. He heard that she came by his funeral briefly, but he hadn’t seen her himself. Now, a little over a year later here she is, and George can’t help but think how beautiful she is. Her hair frames her face perfectly, and she is smiling warmly at him.

“Hey, Y/N. Thanks, it’s definitely getting there. Not quite back at its prime but, it definitely will be soon,” he says wistfully, looking around the shop.

After Fred’s death he hadn’t been able to step back into the store he had started with his brother. It hurt too much, and it almost felt wrong to go back to work without his partner in crime. The store had always been their dream, and George didn’t think he could carry on without Fred. He spent the first six months after Fred’s death moping around The Burrow, spending most of his time in bed, alone.

Everyone in the family had been patient with him, all of them taking time to grieve as well. Until one night, Molly sat him down and with as much love as possible told him that enough was enough. She had reminded him that Fred wouldn’t want George to throw away their dream just because he couldn’t be there with him. That the best way to honor his brother would be to carry on making their dream a reality. George, realizing his mother was right, had started planning new products that very evening.

He spent the next 5 months after that developing new products and perfecting them. 2 months ago, he finally plucked up the courage to enter the abandoned shop for the first time and started to put it back together. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had officially been open again for 2 weeks and running the store has made George the happiest he’s been in months.

“Every time I would come to Diagon Alley I’d check to see if the store was open again, and I’m glad it is. If there’s anything people need these days it’s some Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes,” Y/N says with a laugh.

There had been mass celebrations after Voldemort’s defeat, but so many lives had been lost that they were short lived, and the wizarding community had needed to slowly heal. Things had been getting back to normal, Diagon Alley was just as busy as it had been before, and George could hear happy voices and laughter every time the door to the shop opened.

George chuckles. “A bit of mischief makes everyone feel better. Things have been crazy since I reopened, I can barely keep up on my own.” He gestures towards the shelf he had been restocking when she came in, and the other various shelves that were missing products. “I never realized how much work it was, it was way easier when there was two of us. Between selling the products, making them and stocking them I’m exhausted,” he admits with a small laugh.

“I didn’t want to say it but, you look exhausted,” she teases, smiling at him playfully. “That’s um, kinda why I came in. I mean I obviously came in so I could see you,” she admits, blushing. “But also, I was wondering if you were hiring? I’ve been working freelance for The Daily Prophet but it’s not enough to keep me busy.”

George tries not to let his surprise show on his face. Y/N had always been supportive of George and Fred’s antics, but had never wanted to actively participate. George scratches the back of his head like he’s thinking about her offer, not wanting to seem too eager. “Yeah actually, that would be great. I could really use the help. I’ll have to get some references of course. Make sure you’re not too difficult to work with,” he teases.

Y/N rolls her eyes, playfully shoving George’s shoulder. “We got paired together in potions one-time years ago and you’re still giving me shit about it, Weasley? Unbelievable.”

-

“Mummy used to work with you? Before Uncle Ron did?” Roxanne asks, interrupting the story again.

George hums as he nods. Once Ron quit the Aurors office and came to work with George Y/N had left. Her and George were beginning to start their family, and she wanted to be a stay at home mum. She started writing again as well and had become a pretty successful children’s book author in the wizarding world.

“Yup. Uncle Ron used to work with Uncle Harry at the ministry, before you and your brother were born. So, your Mummy helped out at the shop, and then me and Mummy got married and decided to have your brother, so Uncle Ron decided to quit his job and work with me,” George explains.

Roxanne has a bewildered look on her face, like she had never thought about the fact that all the people she loves had lives before she was born. “So how did you and Mummy get together then? Fall in love?”

George chuckles. “I’m getting there, missy, don’t you worry about it.”

-

Y/N had only been working for George for a few weeks when he realized he had a huge problem. He was developing feelings for her. He had always found her attractive, but when Fred expressed interest in her during their fourth year he pushed those thoughts away. He was always the more reserved twin and doubted that he would ever act on those feelings anyway.

But now that they’ve been spending so much time together and working together so closely he can’t help but feel those things again. She’s just as beautiful has she had been back at school but there was so many other things too.

Her smile was so bright that it could light up the whole shop. She was always there to offer him a warm smile and a helping hand, staying late into the night to help him restock shelves or coming in on the weekends to help make a new stock for the upcoming week. She was always sending him little winks too throughout the day as they worked. While she was upselling a product to someone, or when he just seemed down and needed a pick me up, all he had to do was look over to her and she’d give him a reassuring wink.

And it certainly didn’t help that she was so damn good at her job. She was always helping him to arrange the store in the best way possible, moving around displays and finding new, exciting ways to showcase their range of products. She was so good with the customers too, always able to help someone, their customers always raved to George about how amazing she was as they checked out.

And her touch, it sent electric waves shooting down his spine. Whether it was a reassuring squeeze on his shoulders as he stirred a new potion late at night, or a hand on his back as she passed behind him his brain seemed to short circuit whenever they came in contact with each other.

It didn’t help that her presence had begun to creep into other parts of his life as well. She had only been working there a few days when Molly popped in to see how things were going. His mum had been so excited to see Y/N and invited her to dinner at The Burrow that night; since then it has become a weekly occurrence. He’s bumped into her at The Burrow more than once during the weekends as well, her and Ginny flying around each other and passing a Quaffle back and forth.

“Morning, George!” Y/N calls as she pushes through the shop door.

George jumps at the sound of her voice, not expecting to see her. It’s early on a Sunday morning, and George figured he’d be alone in the shop all day to catch up on the things they hadn’t finished the night before.

George stands up from where he had been kneeling behind the counter, trying to count out the safe, but mostly thinking of the girl who just entered the store. He smiles as she bounds up to the counter.

“What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” he stutters, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “But you were here late last night, I didn’t think you’d come in today.”

Y/N smiles at George, taking off her bag and placing it on the counter. “Well we didn’t finish everything last night, did we? You’ll actually be able to go out and enjoy your day if we’re both here working.” George gives her a look, prompting her to continue. “Besides I don’t mind being here all the time. I like being here.”

George’s smile fades, figuring that Y/n likes being here so much because it reminds her of Fred. They haven’t talked about that morning, when she had practically declared her love for his dead brother as they both cried, and George doesn’t plan on bringing it up.

He’s brought out of his deep thoughts as she passes by him, her hand brushing his arm and sending electric shocks up to his neck. He clears his throat to try and get rid of the lump in it. “Well thanks, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem! What do you need me to do boss?”

George looks to the to-do list he had made after closing on Friday. Well the to-do list Y/N had made for him; she really was a huge help around the shop. Even if she did distract him from his work from time to time.

“Well looks like the next thing up on the list is,” he pauses, suddenly nervous. “Next thing up is to restock the love potions. But uh, I checked in the back earlier and we’re all out, so you’ll need to brew up a new batch.”

Y/N nods, heading towards the storeroom to grab the needed ingredients. “Yeah I can do that, no problem.” She pokes her head back through the door. “Or are you still hung up on that whole potions thing and don’t trust me?”

George laughs with her, his nervousness melting away at her playful tone. “Just get to work, yeah?”

With Y/N out of sight George is able to get back to work, and he had forgotten that she was there. That was until she interrupted him while he was stocking the shelves, causing him to shout and drop all of the Skiving Snackboxes he had in his arms.

“Bloody hell, Y/N. Forgot you were here,” he says with a nervous laugh, his cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment. He turns to face her, glancing at the cauldron in her hands. “What’s up?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you Georgie,” she says with a laugh, causing George’s knees to quiver at the nickname. “I haven’t made a potion in ages, let alone Amorentia. Just wanted to see if you could check it? Make sure I did it right.”

“Yea, ‘course,” George says quietly, leaning close to look at the potion. He stirs it with the silver spoon, checking to make sure the consistency is right. He’s a little nervous, leaning in so close to Y/N that he momentarily forgets what Amorentia does. “Forgot to mention, but that new perfume you’ve been wearing smells really good.” Y/N gasps, taking a small step back. George looks up at her. “What?”

“Thanks but um. I’m not wearing any perfume today,” she stutters out, refusing to meet George’s eyes.

George is about to question her, since he definitely just smelled her perfume, when it dawns on him. He wasn’t smelling her perse, but the Amorentia smelled like her to him. And he just admitted that.

“Look, Y/N I. I,” but he trails off, unsure of what to say. He opens his mouth to say something else but is stopped by Y/N stepping close to him and pressing a hard kiss to his lips. It lasts just long enough for George to grip her waist and for Y/N’s hands to tangle in his hair. Just as quickly as she had kissed him her lips were gone and they were just staring at each other.

She opens her mouth to speak, but when nothing comes out she closes it again. And before George knows it she’s rushing towards the counter to grab her bag. “I should go. Yeah I should go. I’ll see you later,” she rambles. And before George can blink again the door is shutting behind her.

-

“So, Mummy kissed you first!” Roxanne says excitedly when George stops talking.

“What? Like it’s surprising?” George scoffs with a chuckle.

Roxanne shrugs her shoulders, playfully smiling at him. “I mean have you seen how pretty Mummy is? And you’re, well you’re alright I guess.”

George can tell that she’s teasing him, and as payback he tickles her sides, causing her to shriek with laughter.

“Shhh,” he whispers, realizing just how late it is. “We don’t want to wake your brother up, or your Mummy.”

Roxanne nods, taking a few deep breaths to settle down. “So, what happens next? You and Mummy kiss and then what?”

-

George is still horrified about what happened the next morning as he opens the shop. He’s exhausted, having stayed up most of the night finishing everything on his list. It shouldn’t have taken him that long, but he kept getting distracted, thinking of how Y/N’s lips felt on his.

He’s about to grab the door handle so he can unlock it and officially open up when the door swings open and Y/N is walking through it. They collide, and George instinctively reaches out and grabs her around the waist so she doesn’t fall to the ground.

A moment later he realizes what he did and he lets go, stepping back. His cheeks are red and he rubs his neck sheepishly. “Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t think you’d come in today so I was just. Sorry, sorry.”

Once he finishes his rambling he turns on his heel and practically runs towards the counter, not even daring to glance at Y/N. But he can hear her footsteps following behind him and when he turns around she’s standing at the counter, an apologetic look on her face.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing to you, Georgie. I shouldn’t have ran out on you like that. And I shouldn’t have kissed you that was… well anyway, I’m sorry,” she says quickly.

George opens his mouth to respond, but the door to the shop swings open and Y/N is off to help the few customers who came in.

“You need help with anything?”

George looks up from the papers on his desk to see Y/N poking her head into his office. They haven’t spoken since their weird moment this morning, and after the afternoon rush George excused himself to his office to work on paperwork while Y/N stocked some shelves and made up a new display. But that must have been hours ago now, as the sliver of shop George can see over Y/N’s head looks dark.

“Just been going over the books. Well trying to at least,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. “I let Fred do it the last time. Well no, I didn’t let him, he insisted on it. Some crap about how he needed to know how to do it. But boy was listening to him a mistake,” he admits with a sad chuckle. “I can’t make out half of what he wrote and the half I can is completely wrong.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything, but gives him a sad look. George feels awkward in the silence, so he continues to ramble on.

“And I wanna be mad at him, for not taking it seriously but. Then I get mad at myself for feeling that way. And then I feel sad because he’s not here for me to just ask him what the hell it says and then I try and figure it out and get mad when I can’t and it’s just a vicious cycle.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything right away, trying to choose her words carefully. She comes into his office and takes a seat at one of the chairs across from George’s desk. George runs his hands through his hair again, silently pleading that she says something. A few more quiet moments pass before Y/N speaks.

“That sounds. Well frankly that sounds like hell. But it’s okay to feel like that, you know. It’s okay to be mad at Fred. It’s okay to feel whatever you want towards Fred, that’s a normal part of grieving, George,” she explains, leaning forward in her chair.

“So, years will go by and I’ll still feel,” George mumbles almost without thinking. He casts his eyes downward, not wanting to look Y/N in the eyes or see the expression on her face.

A pink blush flushes Y/N’s face. “You, um, remember that then? You never mentioned it, so I figured you forgot about it, or maybe never even heard it. I was kinda hoping that you never even heard it.”

George looks up at her then, staring deeply into her eyes. “Is that why you came into the shop that day? Why you started working here? So, you could feel closer to Fred? Is that why you kissed me?” His last question is quieter, practically a whisper. He feels ashamed as soon as he asks, he wants to take it back.

But then Y/N lets out a laugh, shocking George. He looks at her quizzically. “What? Are you laughing at me?”

Y/N shakes her head no, but continues to laugh, almost as if she can’t stop herself. It takes what feels like an eternity for her laughter to die down, and once it does she scoots closer to George, reaching out to touch his hand.

“That day, when we were sitting there in the Great Hall, I wasn’t talking about still feeling love for Fred. I never really loved Fred. Not in that way at least.”

George is taken aback by that. “What do you mean?”

“Georgie, Fred and I dated for like 4 months when we were 16. It was nice to have someone to go to Hogsmeade with or carry my books and it was fun spending time with Fred but I wasn’t in love with him. And Fred knew that, that’s why we broke things off.”

George looks at Y/N. He’s trying not to get his hopes up, but he’s still so confused about everything. “So, what the hell were you talking about that day? Because I sure as hell thought you were talking about still being in love with Fred.”

Y/N bites her lip, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I was talking about feeling guilty, George.”

George suddenly pushes away from his desk, beginning to pace back and forth. “Feeling guilty for what, then?”

“Feeling guilty for being in love with his twin brother!” Y/N admits suddenly, causing George to stop in his tracks.

“Come again?” he asks, looking down at Y/N. His eyes follow her as she stands up and walks over to him.

“I was never in love with Fred. And after we broke up I started to fall in love with you. But I never acted on it because I felt guilty. I knew Fred had strong feelings for me, so I never tried to act on my feelings for you. And that day, when I saw you in the Great Hall, even though it had been years all of those feelings came rushing back. How I felt for you, how guilty I felt for feeling those things. That’s why I came over there that day, because I wanted to see you, make sure you were okay. And I hoped that saying goodbye to Fred would make me feel okay to try and approach you.”

Suddenly it dawns on George. “That’s why you came to his funeral, then? To put those guilty feelings to rest once and for all.”

Y/N nods, taking one of George’s hands in hers. “That’s why I didn’t stay long. The second I saw you I wanted to run into your arms and kiss you. But I figured that was probably not the right time or place to fling myself at you.”

George laughs, trying to imagine what he would have done if Y/N had done that. He uses his free hand to reach up and cup Y/N’s cheek. “So that day you came into the shop, it was to see me?”

Y/N rolls her eyes but nods. “I said that, didn’t I dummy? That I came into the shop to see you. I would make excuses to head to Diagon Alley nearly every day to check to see if the shop was open. It took me two weeks to get the courage to actually walk in once you opened back up. And truth be told-“ she stops, letting her gaze drop to the floor. “I didn’t really need a job. I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.”

Suddenly so many things started making sense to George. “So that’s why you would stay in late? Come in on days off?”

Y/N nods. “And why I agreed to come to dinner at The Burrow every week, and why I agreed to help Ginny with her Quidditch training.”

“Not to keep the memory of my dead brother alive?” George asks, almost unable to believe everything he’s heard. Y/N shakes her head. “But to be close to me, because you’re in love with me?”

Instead of nodding Y/N grabs George’s face and brings their lips together in a heated kiss. George is frozen for a moment, his brain trying to catch up with what’s going on. Once it does he kisses Y/N back hungrily, his hands gripping her hips tightly. They kiss for a few moments before Y/N pulls away breathless.

-

“And that was that. Your Mum and I got together and the rest is history.”

George stops with his story, waiting for Roxanne to say something. When she doesn’t he looks down, a smile spreading across his face when he notices her eyes have fluttered closed and she’s breathing slowly. He presses a kiss to her forehead and tucks her blanket around her tighter.

He’s closing her door behind him quietly when he runs into his wife, nearly shouting at the scare she gave him.

“Bloody hell, how long have you been standing there, love?” he asks, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist.

“Long enough to hear you spill all of our dark secrets,” she responds with a quiet laugh.

George frowns. “Are you mad? I know we said we wouldn’t tell them, but you know I can’t resist her puppy eyes, just like how I can’t resist yours.”

Y/N doesn’t answer him, choosing to press a kiss to his lips instead. Y/N buries her hands in George’s hair as he deepens their kiss, his hands squeezing her hips tightly. They both can’t help but be reminded of the kiss they shared all those years ago that George had just finished recounting.

“Why did you get out of bed anyway, hm? You were sound asleep when I went to get my water,” George asks a few minutes later when they’re back in bed.

Y/N shrugs, snuggling up into George’s side. “You were gone for ages. Thought maybe you were sneaking some of those chocolate chip cookies I made, wanted to catch you in the act. ”George laughs, throwing an arm around his wife and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“So, you weren’t lying in bed awake, thinking of my dead brother?” he jokes with a chuckle.

Y/N smacks him on the chest lightly, laughing along with him. “You’re lucky I love you, Weasley.”

“You’re right, my love. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”