#she is like two trains of thought away from having some major realisations about herself at all times...

[maplemaplemaplemaplemaple]

coloured my doodles of @beebfreeb 's trans woman oleander design she is so canon to me,,,

[sarasapen]

Next To You

AN: When I first posted Little One, I had absolutely no intention to continue writing or creating a series out of it. That being said, here is the first official Plot Heavy fic, set before the events of the very first Little One post. And yes, there will be more :)

Warnings: Clone Wars mentions, getting close to some ROTS plot points, it’s more angst-heavy than anything else, so proceed with caution, this does not need to be read to understand the other parts of the Little One series! 

Summary: Shortly after her trials, Obi-Wan comes to a rather horrible realisation regarding his Padawan. Well... former Padawan, now.

Word count: 9.9k

I really liked the song ‘Next To You’ by SYML when writing this.

.. .-..---...-.-.-----..-

 They were seated on the new sofas in Obi-Wan’s new, private apartment, an hour to sundown. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it just yet, not that he’d ever voice out his complaints if he had any. The apartment itself was actually quite lovely, roomy enough that he could have his bookshelves and still have enough space to entertain company, but it was… empty.

 The shelves no longer displayed forgotten earring studs or stray hair ties in front of half-read books placed askew atop his meticulously organised rows. The coffee table in front of him didn’t have your favourite cup two inches away from its coaster. The rug wasn’t bent just slightly upwards from where you would wiggle your toes under. The sofa hadn’t been shifted from where you’d always bump into the armrest, and then apologise with a pat but never straighten.

 But here they were, seated on the new sofas in Obi-Wan’s new, private apartment. An invitation to try some new tea that Padmé had sent him had gone answered by Anakin and declined by you. You were “not feeling very well”. You apparently hadn’t been feeling well for the past two weeks.

 “Perhaps she’s finally gotten sick of you,” Anakin teases, but all traces of humour disappear from his face when Obi-Wan doesn’t even offer a raised brow in return, let alone anything lighthearted.

 “It- that was a joke,” The younger of the two clarifies, wanting to make it known that he in no way meant his previous words.

 “And yet there might be some truth in it,” Obi-Wan responds quietly, eyes trained on the drab landscape outside the window. It cuts him, and cuts him deep to think even for a fleeting moment that you might no longer enjoy his company.

 “She has been rather…quiet, lately. Withdrawn,” Obi-Wan continues steadily, although he feels anything but confident in that moment. “She can barely look me in the eye when we talk, and that’s only if I manage to catch her before she runs away.”

 “She has been shielding herself in the Force a lot, now that you mention it,” Anakin supplies, brows furrowing together. How easily changeable, his demeanour was, when it came down to someone he loved. “You always said that she hated doing it.”

 “She did,” Obi-Wan confirms. You did. You felt as though your energy was confined into a tiny little box, and doing it too much or too often was a cause of major annoyance and irritation for you. It was the driving factor behind you learning to regulate your feelings remarkably well, so that you didn’t have to hide them. It worried Obi-Wan to no end that perhaps you were going through something that had you not even wanting to risk a slight exposure of your true emotions.

 Obi-Wan lifts his cup to his lips. It’s good tea, this new flavour, he thinks distantly you would’ve liked this one, probably a lot, and he would have readily given you the entire box of teabags if you had shown up.

 “Have you tried talking to her?” Anakin probes, but immediately shuts down at the look his former Master gives him. Of course he had tried talking to you, Obi-Wan wouldn’t be here, talking about this to him in extreme confidence, unless he had exhausted all other routes that he could’ve thought of himself.

 “Every time I ask, she insists that she’s perfectly fine.”

 “With that reassuring smile of hers,” Anakin murmurs knowingly.

 “With that damned smile of hers,” Obi-Wan responds, downing half of his tea in one go.

 “You remember what I was like after my trials,” Anakin continues, lifting a shoulder. Obi-Wan did remember. It was a common enough experience amongst newly knighted Jedi, the sense of confusion and loneliness. To help with the disorientation, the Order usually sent the newly knighted Jedi on a mission, a simple one, but enough to give them a little ego boost and get them properly on their feet.

 That’s what they did with you; immediately after your trials you were sent on a diplomatic mission to Corellia. The details of the mission Obi-Wan had not been privy to- not for its confidential nature, but rather for it being so miniscule that the majority of the Council weren’t aware of the finer details either. After all, Jedi Masters could hardly concern themselves with learning the ins and outs of everything that passed through the doors of the Temple; they’d never get any work done otherwise. Regardless, Obi-Wan had been- perhaps foolishly, he thinks to himself- expecting you to tell him all about it. He has enough fingers and some to spare if he counted the number of words you had spoken to him since then.

 “Or maybe Dooku said something that got her a little shaken up.”

 What.

 Flashes of an old mentor and trusted friend. Flashes of a previous conversation; one that had cemented Dooku’s position as a Sith. Flashes of betrayal, a proposal that stood against so much of what Obi-Wan stood for.

 “Dooku?” Obi-Wan responds slowly, turning his gaze back onto his former Padawan. “What do you mean, Dooku?”

 Anakin falters then, there’s a brief moment of uncertainty that taints his signature, but he’s quick enough to put his shield up that if it was anyone but Obi-Wan, they probably wouldn’t have recognised it. In any other situation, Obi-Wan would have even felt a little pride at how well Anakin did. But you wouldn’t have done it like that.

 “Dooku was on Corellia the same time she was. She said she saw him, but didn’t say anything else.” Silence. And then, “I thought she would’ve mentioned it to you.”

 “She didn’t,” Obi-Wan confirms, trying not to get irrationally jealous and hurt that you talked to Anakin about the mission and not him.

 “She probably didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” Anakin tries to soothe. Obi-Wan appreciates him for it, for his attempts to make the situation appear better than it was. Because after all, it had just happened once, right?

 Nevermind that Dooku was, well, Dooku. And no matter that any involvement with a former high-ranking member of the Jedi Order, now turned Sith, would be a detail that any Jedi would deem worthy enough of a mention to the Council. Oh, and disregarding the fact that Dooku had ties to you, through Obi-Wan, as Obi-Wan had ties to Yoda through Qui-Gon and Dooku. It was, admittedly, a bit of a stretch. After all, it wasn’t as though Obi-Wan and Master Yoda were particularly friendly. Although perhaps it wasn’t the best comparison; Obi-Wan respected Master Yoda immensely, and looked up to him as a mentor and a leader, as most of the Order did. You and Dooku, on the other hand… why, you had met on no more than a few occasions, none of them long enough to form what Obi-Wan would consider to be a concerning bond of any kind.

 Oh, where was his head? He was overthinking it. So you met Dooku once when Obi-Wan hadn’t been there. You were a capable adult; young, yes, but a Knight now. And once is just chance.

.. .-..---...-.-.-----..-

 There are murmurs.

 Obi-Wan hates murmurs. Well, hate is a strong word. He dislikes them very strongly. He… he prefers if murmurs didn’t occur in the Temple. Yes- that’s it.

 Murmurs are a waste of time, in Obi-Wan’s opinion. And more often than not they were so very far from the truth. Small talk and stupid conversations about nothing were completely fine and normal, in Obi-Wan’s opinion, but oh, did he so dislike gossip.

 These murmurs however are worse than any he has had the absolute displeasure of being privy to. There are murmurs, murmurs of a known Sith Lord being on a planet at the same time as a newly-anointed Jedi Knight, and said Knight had not reported this to the Council. Once is just chance, Obi-Wan tells himself.

 Then he’s sitting at the Council and you’re standing in the middle of the floor, features a perfect mix of absolute coolness and polite respect. If he weren’t so worried for you, Obi-Wan would’ve been proud of how well you were doing. You don’t glance his way, not even once.

 “On Corellia, Count Dooku was, at the same time as you, hm?”

 “He was.”

 “With your own eyes, see him, you did?”

 “Yes, Master Yoda.”

 “You didn’t think it was worth reporting to the Council?” Obi-Wan finds himself stepping in. He burns his gaze into your eyes, getting more antsy by the second. The words to report to me left hanging in the air, unsaid, but understood by the both of you perfectly.

 You turn to face him, and to anyone else it would appear that you meet his gaze. But it’s clear to Obi-Wan that you’ve focused on a spot on the wall behind him- You don’t look at him.

 “I exercised my judgement, Master, and came to the fairly reasonable conclusion that Dooku buying a crate of Corellian wine was hardly anything to concern the council over.”

 “Agree with young Knight, I do,” Master Yoda chimes cheekily. “An advantage to us would be, Dooku getting drunk.”

 There are a few chuckles. Windu cracks a smile. You manage a shyly polite one.

 But again, you don’t raise your eyes to Obi-Wan’s. Why?

 Once is chance, he tells himself.

 That’s all. Mere chance.

 “Aware, were you, of Dooku’s presence on Corellia last week?”

 Hold on.

 “I did not run into Dooku on Corellia last week, no.”

 Hold on.

 “The Count did not try to contact you?”

 No, stop, hold on just a sec-

 “No, Master. He didn’t initiate anything.”

 Obi-Wan feels his mouth getting dry, his stomach turning uneasily as he scrutinises the features of his Padawan- his former Padawan’s face. You were on Corellia again? And Dooku was there, again?

 He is forced to bury his train of thought when you’re dismissed, leaving the Council to deal with far more important matters. You leave with a polite bow and without so much as a single glance his way.

 Once is chance, twice is coincidence.

 That’s all it was. Coincidence.

 After all, why would Dooku have any interest in you?

 Why, indeed.

.. .-..---...-.-.-----..-

 When he finally does manage to talk to you, Obi-Wan’s done something that he’s debated long and hard over.

 Showing up at your door uninvited was possibly one of the rudest things Obi-Wan could have done, one of the most inconsiderate of your feelings- save, perhaps, yelling your name across the Temple loud enough so that everyone would hear, and you’d be forced to confront him. The first option, of course, saved you from any public mortification, and ensured you were in what Obi-Wan hoped would be a safe space for you.

 For an added you can’t be mad at me factor, Obi-Wan made sure to, one, not arrive too early lest he wake you up, because Maker knows he would be embarking on an already doomed mission. And two, who could say no to a box of their favourite biscuits in the morning?

 When you open your door, it takes everything for Obi-Wan’s polite smile not to slip completely off his face.  

 You look- not that he’d ever say this to you, of course- like shit. You look pale and there are ghastly circles under your eyes, and speaking of your eyes, they’re lifeless and unseeing, and the only emotion Obi-Wan detects in them is the brief spout of panic when you register who he is.

 “M-Master,” You greet, bowing politely.

 “Knight,” Obi-Wan greets, hoping to convey a sense of playful teasing in the title. It strikes him even deeper just then that he won’t ever call you Padawan again.

 “I wasn’t expecting you,” You murmur, running a hand nervously through your hair to try to pat it into submission.

 “I suppose that’s what provides the surprise element of surprise visits,” Obi-Wan continues smoothly, acting oblivious to your obviously uncomfortable state. Acting oblivious also helps ignore the nagging thought at the back of his mind that screams out to discover just what has happened that you’re in so much discomfort around him.

 There’s a pause as you try to figure out what to say to him. You don’t want to invite him in, clearly, but it’s not like you can turn him away either.

 “I brought a housewarming gift,” Holding up the box of biscuits, he gives you another smile, pretty much making your decision for you.

 “Thank you. Do you- do you want to come in?” You open your door wider, and he sees you jerk your wrist slightly in what he assumes is an attempt to hide whatever mess you could. “I apologise for the mess.”

 “Nonsense,” Obi-Wan tuts good-naturedly. “You act as though we have not spent over a decade in the same living space.”

 You flush a little at that out of sheepish embarrassment, letting Obi-Wan glide past you into your apartment. It’s a little more bare than his, there’s still a box of old reports that Madame Jocasta made copies of for you once you checked a copy out more than twice. (It started after you had checked out the same report for the seventh time in half a year. Not that it stopped you from visiting the library every other day, but Madame Jocasta was always more than eager to aid with whatever old journals you were pouring through. She seemed to have a soft spot for you, and Obi-Wan knew better than to complain that his padawan spent most of her hours in the library.)

 There’s a few bits and bobs here and there, yet Obi-Wan would be lying if he said the apartment resembled anything homey. The room didn’t look lived in, just occupied, as if you hadn’t spent any time making it a place you’d like to stay in. It was as though the very walls of the room not only reflected but amplified your blatant discomfort.

 “Tea?” You offer weakly, gesturing for him to take a seat on the nice little settee that is so completely unlike you.

 “Tea would be lovely,” Obi-Wan smiles, sitting down and trying to look around in a pleasantly curious sort of way, so that you didn’t think he was watching you. Because he wasn’t. Watching you.

 A moment later, you’re setting down a tray of tea, along with a mound of sugar in a little bowl that Obi-Wan knows you won’t touch. If you wanted to add sugar, you would have done so before sitting in front of him. You never liked stirring the contents of your cup in another’s company, you got weird over the possibility of the spoon hitting the sides of the cup and making noise. It’s one of the seemingly insignificant details Obi-Wan just knows about you, the knowledge engraved into his very soul.

 Obi-Wan opens the box of biscuits and sets it enticingly on the middle of the coffee table while you pour the tea, and when his eyes meet yours, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt quite so out of place before. He takes the saucer and cup handed to him, and he pretends to be busy with blowing over the surface to cool the tea down a little. It’s only as he raises the cup to his lips does Obi-Wan remember that he hadn’t added any sugar, and to do so now would be incredibly awkward. It doesn’t help that you’re watching him through your eyelashes, trying to gauge his reaction.

 “It’s perfect,” He lies, taking another sip so as to drive his point home. You place your own cup back on its saucer, legs tucked primly beneath yourself. “You don’t have any pressing issues to attend to, today, do you?”

 “No, no, I… I’m free today,” You murmur, keeping your eyes on your cup.

 “Good, good,” Obi-Wan cringes at how stilted he sounds, and tries shooting you another warm smile that you do not see. There’s a pause as he flickers his gaze between his tea and the sugar.

 “How are you?” It hadn’t meant to come out as heavily and full of concern as it did, but Obi-Wan supposes there’s hardly any need to conceal his worry now that it’s out in the open. You glance up, eyes wide for a split second as if you hadn’t been expecting that question.

 “I’m alright.” Liar.

 “That’s good to hear.” You had never been able to lie to him, he thinks.

 “How were your missions to Corellia?” Obi-Wan continues casually. He leans forward and picks up the box of biscuits, holding it out for you to take one. He then sets it back down and takes one for himself, trying desperately not to show how calculated each of his movements were.

 “It was a courtesy call. To represent the Council’s goodwill,” You raise your eyes to his and shrug a shoulder, tired smile on your lips. “Nothing terribly exciting.”

 “No?” Obi-Wan murmurs, sensing a good segue into a little teasing that would, hopefully, ease your clear anxiety over the topic. “Was the Senator’s son not there? The one with the crush on you?”

 You fumble with your biscuit a little out of embarrassment, shooting him a look of desperate annoyance. He raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of his bitter tea, waving his hand as if to tell you to go on.

 “No,” You respond pointedly, rolling your eyes and muttering a quiet “Thank the Force,” under your breath.

 “Is Corellian not your type?” Obi-Wan continues, beginning to make himself amused as well.

 “Hilarious,” Pointing your biscuit at him, you narrow your eyes. “You should become a comedian.”

 “And have the Coruscanti crowd as an audience? I’d make no profit. Besides, those in the Temple boast far better company.”

 Then he sees it. Something he said, he isn’t sure what, but something suddenly changed your mood; your smile completely drops off your face and you’re sitting stiffly yet again. He had meant that last line as a compliment to you but you’re scarcely daring to breathe, and Obi-Wan hastily backpedals his thoughts to comb through what he had said.

 What did he say? What did he say?

 It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t have the time to sit there and stare dumbly at you, he must press on. He’s tried beating around the bush, now he supposes he might as well just get on with it.

 “So Count Dooku enjoys Corellian wine, hm?”

 He tries to sound off-hand.

 He sees from the way your face falls even more and your shoulders slump in utter exhaustion that you know it’s anything but.

 “Is this an interrogation?” You ask tiredly, setting your saucer down on the table. Your gaze finally returns to him, and Obi-Wan feels duly chastised by the look in your eyes alone.

 “Not at all,” Obi-Wan hastily tries to make assurances. “I’m simply inquiring about the unique nature of your mission-“

 “Well then, let me satisfy your inquiries,” You cut him off, standing as your voice turns cold.

 “I was sent to Corellia two and a half weeks ago on a courtesy call as a representative of the Jedi Order and by extension, the Galactic Republic,” You pick up the tray of tea, pointedly returning it back to the island next to the sink of your kitchen. “The journey lasted half a day, and when I arrived, I was greeted by Senator Dulani. From there, I was escorted to the Great Hall of Corellia.”

 “Knight-“

 “You needn’t worry, Master, I haven’t quite finished with my report.” You say as you empty the contents of the teapot into the sink. Obi-Wan sets his own cup down and stands, his own patience wearing thin not out of anger, but for fear. “There was a dinner, and later a meeting, with Senator Dulani and other members of the Corellian senate present. The minutes of the meeting were recorded and I have a copy that was submitted to the Council upon my first report, if you’d like to look through it.”

 Obi-Wan calls your name as he makes his way towards you, desperate now in his desire to beg for your forgiveness, to drop down onto his knees and plead for you to pardon whatever wrong he had committed that had been pushing you so far away from him.

 “It was after that meeting that Senator Dulani invited me to a little festival that was occurring in the main city. We only went for a few hours- that too, is in the report, for your reference- where we stumbled into Count Dooku-“

 “Stop.” Obi-Wan grips you by the elbow and turns you around to face him, leaving you trapped between him and the counter. You glare up at him, tears beginning to prick behind your eyes as he raises a hand up to touch your cheek. The violence at which you flinch away from his touch certainly does not go unnoticed by him.

 Obi-Wan blinks.

 “-He was, as I had mentioned in the council meeting, buying wine,” You grit out, trying to ignore the way tears were no longer gathering in your eyes, but falling freely.

 “Little one-“ Obi-Wan whispers softly, eyebrows drawing together as his gaze flits all over your face.

 “Did I answer your inquiries, or do you have any more?” You snap, pulling your arm out of his grasp and pressing back against the counter as if to get away from him.

 “What’s wrong?” He asks, trying once again to anchor you back with his hands resting on your arms. “What’s gotten you so upset?”

 It backfires spectacularly, resulting in you altogether sidestepping him and retreating away.

 “It seems that I have a previous engagement that I had overlooked,” With your back to him, you seem to take a moment to calm yourself before meeting his gaze headon. “Thank you for your company, Master Kenobi. I’m sure you have more important things to attend to.”

 A precisely diplomatic way of telling him to fuck off, if he’s ever heard one.

 And, oh, Obi-Wan doesn’t want to leave, he truly doesn’t, but what else can he say to you? How much more can he encroach into your personal space, how much more can he force you to have this conversation with him, when he doesn’t know what to ask and you refuse to give him any leads?

 It was his nature to fight, he was a blue saber. It came so easily to him, no matter how he suppressed it. And he would continue to fight for you, Obi-Wan decided resolutely. But not here, not now; not when he needed to show you that he respected your wishes-regardless of whatever they may be.

 You asked him to leave.

 So he left.

.. .-..---...-.-.-----..-

 It’s remarkably strange how time passes. Swamped with missions and treaties and Council duties, a month passes before Obi-Wan has a chance to breathe again. His tin of Naboo tea has barely been touched; the most obvious indicator of how much of his wakefulness he spent in his quarters.

 Obi-Wan is extremely guilty to admit that, between being bombarded with an ever-growing workload, he hardly had the time to spare you much thought. Out of sight out of mind, perhaps.

 That doesn’t explain the restlessness in his bones, however.

 He misses you.

 It’s been just about two full moon cycles since he’s had a proper conversation with you, and the silence of his apartment is more than Obi-Wan can bear. Perhaps his busy schedule served as a distraction, to give you both time before you faced each other again.

 Or maybe…

 There’s a nagging voice at the back of his head. You and your Padawan are close, Master Kenobi. Your time under his tutelage had come to an end. You had no obligations towards him now. He had no right to ask you to be more than coworkers. The desire to keep you close- all it was was a desire.

 One he should do away with.

 As if the Force understood, his comm buzzed with a new mission report. Obi-Wan takes a glance at it and grimaces, pouring his far-too-hot-to-drink tea down the sink. Now he supposed he could claim he had begun to make a dent in the tea tin.

 But as Obi-Wan’s eyes roved over the multitude of words, he recalled his previous praise of the Force’s all-knowingness. It seemed that he would be spending the next two weeks- at the least- with you by his side. More accurately, he would be at your side as you acted as a mediator for trade alliance discussions in both Mandalore and Corellia.

 The travelling itself would take two weeks, and knowing the characters of the courts in question led Obi-Wan to suspect that these discussions would not be easily won; a safe bet would be an additional week or two.

 And although a month by your side was all that he had been dreaming of since you had parted ways, now with his prize in front of him, Obi-Wan is filled with an overwhelming feeling of dread.

 What was he supposed to do?

 Was he supposed to bring up your previous conversation? Was he, as a Master with a place in the Council, supposed to chastise your lapse into overwhelming emotion, despite him being the one that pushed you to that point? Or was he supposed to remain silent, let you deal with your own problems now that you were no longer his Padawan? No longer his responsibility, no longer his-

 You do not greet him at the docking pad when he approaches. If not for the way your shoulders tensed, Obi-Wan might have thought you oblivious to his presence. He greets you, determined to put an end to the silence. He tries for small talk, but all he gets is clipped, detached answers. He hopes, perhaps foolishly, that being in the same ship would force some sort of conversation.

 You seem equally moved to avoid him as he is in trying to speak to you.

 The second you step onto Mandalorian soil, it is as though a flip has switched. You greet the Duchess with all the charm and grace anyone could ask for, knowing precisely what to say and when to say it. It is no wonder the Duchess barely spared Obi-Wan a second glance, as enthralled as they all were by you. Not that he would have noticed, with the way he refuses to let you out of his gaze.

 You handle the first round of discussions beautifully, and Obi-Wan scarcely needs to speak unless he was specifically called upon by a senator.

 “I have to say,” Satine murmurs to him on the way out of the meeting room that evening. “Your former Padawan is certainly doing your Order justice. You should be proud.”

 “I am,” Obi-Wan replies immediately, earnestly, gaze shifting to the side to seek you out, missing the knowing look Satine gives him.

 “You won’t mind if I steal her away from you for dinner, would you?” She hums, pausing the conversation to exchange pleasantries with Senator Dulani. “I’ve grown rather tired of the opinions of those in this court. Perhaps she would provide some fresh perspective.”

 Immediately Obi-Wan’s heart sinks, and it’s just then that he realises that he had been counting on being placed next to you during the meal. Satine notices, of course she does, damn her, and laughs.

 “Master Kenobi, you needn’t pout,” She moves away with the hint of a smile still lingering on her face, hand ghosting over your arm as she leads you back to where Obi-Wan was standing.

 “We were just speaking about you, my dear,” Satine is telling you, and you respond with a quiet “Oh?”

 “All good things,” Satine reassures you, placing her arm delicately in the crook of Obi-Wan’s elbow, now steering you both towards the dining hall.

 “I had wanted your opinion on the recent compulsory military act that was passed on Bar’leth.”

 “The Jedi refrain from having political opinions, Your Grace,” You respond automatically, and the corners of Obi-Wan’s lips quirk up.

 “Humour me,” Satine flicks her hand almost dismissively at Obi-Wan, gesturing to his seat beside yours. He rolls his eyes, moving to first pull out her seat and then yours.

 “I…” You glance at Obi-Wan, immediately looking away as you struggle to decide on an answer.

 And despite it all, despite every word of your argument? if he could even call it that- being engraved into his mind, despite the way you were trying desperately to avoid his gaze, despite the score of other people seated around you, Obi-Wan shifts his hand out to hold yours under the table.

 The result is instantaneous, the way the tension all but disappears from your shoulders as he gently flips your hand palm side up so that he could interlock his fingers with yours. And you’re letting him, stars above despite it all, you’re letting him rub little circles into your skin as he holds your hand firmly.

 “I think it is a necessity,” You finally settle on, exhaling slowly when Obi-Wan squeezes your hand.

 “They claim to be a peaceful planet,” the Duchess continues.

 “One cannot claim to be peaceful unless they are capable of great violence,” You refute, surprising not only Obi-Wan and the Duchess but yourself as well.

 “No?”

 “No. Otherwise they would just be harmless.”

 “Strength invites challenge, does it not?” The Duchess muses, taking a sip from her drink.

 “Certainly. But without strength, Bar’leth would not even be a civilization we could discuss, Your Grace.”

 “Hm,” Satine responds, glancing at Obi-Wan. “So you think violence is necessary for civilizations to thrive?”

 “I think it is an unsavoury reality of the galaxy we live in,” You respond, choosing your words carefully.

 And if the Duchess had a response to that, Obi-Wan did not hear it, for he was too busy re-memorising the lines on the palm of your hand. A clever move on his part, for moments later the entrées were served, and both of you had to abandon the other’s hand in favour of salad forks.

 Dinner with the senate of Mandalore was, well, dinner. And with each second dragging on longer than the last, Obi-Wan isn’t quite sure how to describe the relief he feels when Satine drains the last of her wine, setting the glass down with a clink that rings with finality.

 Obi-Wan offers you his hand, and you take it, allowing him to guide you out of the hall. When the doors shut behind you, the silence of the halls of the Sundari Palace overwhelm you. Hesitating, Obi-Wan tucks your hand into the crook of his arm, taking a tentative step and bracing himself for the inevitable feeling of you pulling your hand away.

 But it doesn’t come, and Obi-Wan takes a second step, and then a third, and then you’ve both walked the length of the hallway before Obi-Wan dares to breathe again. He walks you to your room, pausing outside your door to brush a stray strand of hair away from your bright eyes. A beat of silence passes between the two of you, and all Obi-Wan can do is look at you.

 And then you drop your gaze and murmur a quiet goodnight, then Obi-Wan is left looking at the door.

 So that’s how you spend the next few days.

 With no words passed between the two of you save for the basest necessities, with hands seeking each other out under dining tables, with silent walks back to your room filled with nothing more than an aching want.

 “I’ll always be here,” Obi-Wan says on the fourth night, finding himself overcome with startling desperation. Your door is nearly fully closed when you pause, only your hand visible from where it’s closed around the edge.

 “Should you ever need me, for anything,” Obi-Wan continues, taking this opportunity and sprinting with it, not knowing when he’d get a chance like this again. “If it’s aid with a mission, or should you need a confidante- stars, even if all you need is a tin of biscuits…”

 Taking a slow breath, Obi-Wan reaches his hand out and rests it above yours on the doorway. He isn’t prepared for the way your hand flinches away from him, and the door is gently shut (to avoid injuring him).

 “Nothing has changed,” Obi-Wan rests his forehead against the cool wood of the door, voice a mere whisper. “Nothing has to change.”

 And perhaps, if he hadn’t been so caught up in his quiet repetitions of “I’m right here,” then maybe, just maybe, he would’ve realised that you too were leaning against the door, ear pressed to the wood, listening to every one of his whispers.

 Right there beside him.

.. .-..---...-.-.-----..-

 It starts off, as most things do, seemingly innocent.

 The message from you to an unknown recipient,

 I want to meet you.

 Of course you do,-

 And Obi-Wan’s eyes narrow at the use of your name, your first name, a sure sign of intimacy if nothing else. He can count on one hand the number of people that call you by your first name.

 A lover, perhaps?

 No, no, surely not… but perhaps?

 But he shouldn’t… he shouldn’t betray your trust by reading the messages on your tablet, lover or not. And then he sees his name.

 I take it Obi-Wan is still in the dark?

In the dark? In the dark about what?

 That should be of no concern to you, is your next response, and Obi-Wan swallows.

 I apologise, my dear.

 My dear? My dear? Obi-Wan places the tablet on the armrest beside him lest he snaps it in half.

 And a message unread by you from your mystery penpal follows the apology, with a date, time, and place on Corellia.

 Obi-Wan doesn’t think twice about deleting that particular message, and tries to bury the rising guilt he feels the next time he sees your face.

.. .-..---...-.-.-----..-

 There’s absolutely no reason whatsoever that Obi-Wan insists on departing for Corellia a day before you, leaving you to “Wrap things up” in Mandalore. He pretends to ignore the look you give him, what with half the Mandalorian representatives already en route to Corellia, but you do not argue.

 There is simply no need for it, the discussions are not scheduled to take place for a while yet, and as far as you’re concerned, you have nowhere else to be.

 You’re certainly not going to be meeting your possible lover-

 Alright, perhaps there was a reason Obi-Wan had insisted on departing first. One could hardly fault him for wanting to ensure that whomever you were dallying with kept your honour in mind. Not that Obi-Wan wished to imagine you having…dalliances with anyone, but he would protect you, from scandal, heartbreak, or otherwise.

 Besides, this lover of yours could hardly be suitable to hold your affections, with how little they seemed to care about the lack of your response to their proposition.

 Obi-Wan arrives on Corellia precisely four hours before the supposed meeting time, and after two hours spent exchanging pleasantries with the Corellian dignitaries, followed by a rather long “quick” tour of the grounds he would be residing in, Obi-Wan gets in a shuttle and makes his way into the very heart of the city.

 It is only when he is standing in front of the supposed attraction that you were meant to have your rendezvous does Obi-Wan revise his previous statement about how this lover of yours did not seem to be suitable. No, standing in front of a large… wheel, of some sort, (a new attraction, as he is told by the man at the counter), attached to glass compartments, Obi-Wan comes to the conclusion that your beau is an absolute madman.

 Nevertheless, Obi-Wan steels himself before stepping into one of the compartments, trying not to be taken aback by the realisation that the wheel was in fact turning, albeit slowly. He is drawn away from his thoughts rather abruptly, however, when he hears the sound of someone stepping in, followed immediately by the closing of the compartment door.

 “Oh.” Comes the voice, disappointment evident. Obi-Wan closes his eyes and tries not to shatter his teeth with how hard they’re clenched. “Kenobi.”

 “Dooku.”

 Welllllll. Didn’t Obi-Wan feel rather silly.

 “Your former Padawan did not join you?”

 “No.”

 “What a shame.”

 The ground slowly but surely inches away, and Obi-Wan comes to another horrible realisation of the fact that he was now confined in this space with Dooku.

 It was fine. This was fine. He was fine.

 All Obi-Wan had to do was take some deep, calming breaths, enjoy the cool air around him, and remain calm. He’d be fine. He had no need to interact with Dooku at all. He was fine.

 “How is she?” Dooku breaks the silence as soon as Obi-Wan finishes his pep talk. The timing of it is wildly inconvenient, or, on the flip side of the coin, perfectly timed; as if Dooku knew precisely when to strike. Obi-Wan turns his head to stare blankly at the man. There’s a beat of silence before Dooku clarifies the subject of the conversation. “My great-grandpadawan.”

 “Don’t you speak of her,” Obi-Wan snaps before he can help himself, repulsed by the familiar term Dooku used, and he turns his gaze away to try to hide the little shame in failing to keep his cool. Dooku raises an eyebrow.

 “Touched a nerve, have I? I had thought there was something off with her when we met here the first time, and the second time too, but it had been a while since our last reunion, so I wasn’t sure. Thank you, for the confirmation.”

 Alarm bells are ringing in Obi-Wan’s head, loud and obnoxious and glaring. Dooku had noticed something off about you before Obi-Wan had- and the second time too- Dooku wanted to know about you, for possibly nefarious reasons that were currently unknown- and the second time too- Dooku had been disappointed that it was Obi-Wan, instead of you- and the second time too- Obi-Wan swallows and avoids the elder man’s gaze. Thrice is a pattern.

 “Don’t pretend you care about her well-being.”

 “She holds a lot of promise,” Rebuts Dooku sagely, almost as if he’s the one offended that Obi-Wan holds such an impression of him. “It’s a shame the Jedi Order seems to be so keen in disappointing her so. A shared trait amongst our line, although you seem to be the exception.”

 “I beg your pardon?” Snapping his head to the once so revered man, Obi-Wan tries to send a wave of calm over the rapidly spiking rage bubbling up inside him. It’s ugly and hot and red, but Obi-Wan is more preoccupied with refuting Dooku than keeping his cool.

 “My late Padawan disagreed with the Council on many things,” Dooku continues, watching Obi-Wan critically. Obi-Wan feels a sudden familiarity of being a youngling in his crèche, scrutinised by Masters as he performs the task set out in front of him. A circus monkey, Obi-Wan thinks. He’s toyed with her and now he’s making me his little circus monkey. Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t stop himself-

 “Oh, I’m well aware.”

 “Yes, you would be,” Dooku continues pleasantly, and Obi-Wan realises he just aced the test he was trying to fail.

 “Your first Padawan does too. Although your second Padawan seems to be a lot more open to considering…” Dooku drags the word out, his hand almost daintily flicking off a piece of lint on his sleeve before he leans back against the wall with an overwhelming amount of elegance that few others could match. “Other options.”

 “And by that I presume you mean the Dark Side?” Obi-Wan scoffs, now half-amused. He imagines you wearing all black, eyes golden and a red saber in your hand. It’s ridiculous. He almost snorts. Entertainment, indeed.

 “Things aren't simply Black or White, Kenobi,” Dooku snaps, having finally grown tired of Obi-Wan’s resistance to his ploy. “For someone with a reputation of being so quick-witted, you really can be quite daft at times.”

 “My former Padawan would never consider joining the Sith,” Obi-Wan responds coolly, reassured by the confidence of the sheer depth at which he knew your character- something Dooku could and would never match.

 And just like that, there’s a sudden twist in the air as Dooku smiles slowly. Obi-Wan regards him carefully, watching the look of ah, finally, flit across Dooku’s face, and Obi-Wan’s heart drops into his stomach. He hates that this was what Dooku had been baiting him into saying.

 Later on, much later on, Obi-Wan would reach the conclusion that Dooku had manipulated the entire conversation, that regardless of whatever Obi-Wan was trying to say or do, it would get twisted and bent to fit Dooku’s agenda. He would recognise it as such because it was a tactic he himself had used countless other times; there was a reason he was considered a great Negotiator. In other words, Obi-Wan was very nearly bested in a game he so often played himself.

 “No, she would not.” Dooku agrees with such a startling belief and conviction, as if he knew you, that it makes Obi-Wan a little sick to his stomach. “Leaving the Order however, is very much on her mind.”

 “She has never once considered disobeying the Order,” Obi-Wan gets onto his feet, turning his back to Dooku to try to put some distance, any distance between them.

 “You really don’t know her at all, do you?” Dooku hums, half amused, half exasperated.

 “I have known her for years.”

 “And yet you’re utterly blind to the most obvious things about her,” Dooku tuts. He looks disapprovingly at Obi-Wan, annoyed that he has to spell it out. “She won’t disobey the Order, no. But she would leave it. I thought that you of all people would know that she doesn’t follow things she doesn’t believe in.”

 Dooku is right. Obi-Wan knows he is. And yet-

 “You stand there and claim to know more of my former Padawan- the child that I selected and raised, the Padawan that I spent years traversing within the confines of her mind, the Padawan I know more intimately than any other being- you, who have barely crossed paths with her a mere three times, you claim to know her better than I?”

 “Intimately.” Dooku repeats, eyes narrowing and mouth curling into something sinisterly amused. “I must say, it's an interesting word choice. Yes, please, do go on, tell me how intimately you know this girl of yours.”

 “Quit being foul, Dooku,” Obi-Wan snaps, glaring at the smirking man.

 “Oh, but you understood what I implied, Master Kenobi. Surely you don’t think of her as your beloved Padawan anymore? What’s the endearment you use? Ah yes, little one-“

 “Enough with your games-“

 “Tell me, grandpadawan of mine, now that she’s grown, do you not imagine what’s been hiding under those robes all this time?” Dooku’s eyes drift over him, as if his next words were a simple throw away. “Or, well, not all this time.”

 And damn that last statement.

 Rubbing salt into hidden wounds was something Dooku was surprisingly good at. He always managed to know exactly which of Obi-Wan’s buttons to push.

 Not all this time.

 As if Obi-Wan needed another disgusting reminder of how horrific his affections towards you were. Because it couldn’t have been enough that he fell head over heels for a girl that he simply just couldn’t love, or that she’d never return his affections. No, he had to love a girl practically half his age, a girl he knew when she was all but a child and a girl he had a hand in raising. A girl he was supposed to protect from vile creatures that dared to look at her in the way he did and yet he-

 “Believe it or not, Kenobi, I’m not here to discuss the spectacular display of failure that is your pitiful love life. I’m saying this to help.”

 “Are you?” Obi-Wan snaps, trying to swallow the bile rising in his throat. Dooku levels him with not quite a glare, it’s much too dignified. He has a way of glaring at you without moving a muscle on his face, Qui-Gon had quipped once, years ago now.

 “Kenobi, if I wanted the girl to leave the Order, why would I be telling you her plans?” Dooku extends his arm as if to illustrate his point, fingers unfurling leisurely. “No, her place is to remain put.”

  “To remain in the Order?”

  “…If that’s how you choose to see it.” Dooku lifts a shoulder. “A more accurate phrasing would be to remain close to you. It would allow her to stay close to your other Padawan. The pair of them are two halves of a whole. They will be the catalyst that ends it all. Yet another thing I’m surprised you can’t see.”

 “They work well together.” Obi-Wan grits out. You don’t know, he wants to scream. You don’t know, he wanted to yell at the man he once respected- still respected. His Master’s Master, an old friend and confidant, someone Obi-Wan once cared for.

 You don’t know the sheer violence it took for them to become this gentle.

 “You hold judgement against me,” Dooku says, settling back against his corner of the compartment. Obi-Wan inhales slowly, exhaling with great measure as he shuts his eyes. In, out. In, out. In-

 “I taught him that,” Dooku speaks again, quieter now. Obi-Wan does not need to ask him to clarify what he means. He taught Qui-Gon this particular way of meditation; what is dubbed ‘battle meditation’ in highly stressful situations. Qui-Gon, obviously, taught him. Just as he taught Anakin, and you.

 “There is a war brewing, Kenobi.”

 Obi-Wan gives no response, settling for keeping his eyes closed and letting the seconds tick by. It is not so soon after that the movements of the compartment shift slightly, and it begins its descent, lowering slowly towards the ground, bit by bit. The approach is inevitable, he knows there is nothing he can do to stop it.

 There was a war brewing, lost between the shadows where the sinister remained hidden. Obi-Wan knew it. Dooku knew it. The Order knew it. The bomb had been set, now it was just a matter if waiting for the inevitable tragedy.

 “I… I do care for her well-being Kenobi,” Dooky speaks again, rising to his feet. After a moment, Obi-Wan does the same, if only to be able to get off this infernal ride. “With her wit, she puts even the conversations I held with my former Padawan to shame.”

 To that he has no response either, so he watches Dooku step off, before he himself exits and walks away.

.. .-..---...-.-.-----..-

 For the brief moment after you step into your shared accommodations, Obi-Wan remembers precisely nothing of Dooku, his focus concentrated solely on the brilliant smile on your face.

 And then he remembers.

 “You spoke with Dooku on your second trip to Corellia,” He says, more of a statement than a question. You pause from where you’re lowering your bag onto the table, steady hands unzipping and removing a book before you take the nearest seat.

 “Yes,” Comes your reply.

 “Then you lied to the council,” Obi-Wan continues, hating the way you open your book calmly as if the conversation was of no consequence to you.

 “I did no such thing.”

 “You said you didn’t run into- it was planned?”

 “…Yes.”

 “You also said he didn’t contact you.”

 Your gaze flickers up for a split second, and Obi-Wan feels his unease growing steadily.

 “You contacted him?”

 “We did not discuss any matters that the Council would have been concerned over-“ You murmur coolly.

 “And what of me? You mean to tell me the two of you did not discuss anything that I might concern myself over?”

 It's a cheap shot, and Obi-Wan knows it from the pained look that graces your features. You shut your book and place it gingerly on the table before looking up at him..

 “I… I needed to do this myself.”

 “I see,” Obi-Wan says heavily. He can’t blame you. If it’s what he thinks it’s about then he certainly can’t blame you for wanting to talk to someone outside the Order. But by Maker, that didn’t make it hurt any less. “And is it fair to conclude that the this in question is you considering leaving the Order?”

 “What? How- wh- how can you possibly-“ Understanding dawns on your features. “Dooku spoke to you.”

 “Why is it that you wish to leave?” Obi-Wan demands, unable to keep his voice from rising.

 “I should’ve known,” You whisper to yourself, tugging uncomfortably at your hair. “He wanted me to stay in the Order, I should’ve known-“

 “Why now? Why all of a sudden?”

 “It’s not just now! I’ve wanted to leave for years-“ You cut yourself off, and Obi-Wan takes a second to process what you said.

 “…What?”

 “Forget it.” You stand, moving to brush past him.

 “No, how long?”

 “Master, I-“

 “For how long have you wanted to leave-” me?

 “I’m sorry.” You sound meek, ashamed, and he swallows.

 “No- don’t apologise,” he soothes, reaching a hand out. The last thing he wants to make you feel further alienated, to give you a nudge in the wrong direction that’ll lead to you walking out the Temple and never returning. “Just… how long have you been struggling with this?”

 “Five years. Give or take a few months.”

 He sucks in a breath. Five years. Five years.

 So this wasn’t just…

 “Once you leave, you can’t come back.”

 “That’s kind of the point.”

 Okay, ouch.

 But it wasn't an impulse. Obi-Wan isn’t sure if he’s relieved it isn't some scheme planted in your mind by Dooku, or to be sick at the best years of his life were the same years you spent wanting everything to change.

 “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, gently guiding you to sit back down as he lowers down onto a knee in front of you.

 You smile, a bitter, twisted smile, looking at him through tears. “I did not want to disappoint you.”

 “Why do you wish to leave?” Obi-Wan prompts, taking your hands in his.

 “The Order… it does not do enough.”

 “We do the best we can-”

 “On the whims of politicians who wish to further their own positions of power!” You argue, frustrated.

 “Even- even these negotiations,” You gesture to the room you’re in. “They’re not helping people that really need to be helped.”

 Obi-Wan inhales slowly, considering your words.

 “I cannot, in good conscience, call myself a keeper of the peace when there are so many suffering.”

 “Who are these people you speak of?” He asks, not mocking, not out of ignorance, but out of the genuine desire to understand.

 “The poor, in the lower levels of Corellia that have to resort to awful things to feed their families-”

 “There are legislations in place to help those that need it-”

 “-slaves on Tatooine-”

 “Tatooine is located in the Outer Rim. The Republic has no jurisdiction there.”

 “The Jedi are not meant to be a part of the Republic!” You exclaim, your energy bursting from you and cracking the table leg in front of you. “We are meant to help people, and I can’t do that if I’m sitting here trying to ensure the dim-witted senator from Corellia does not offend the stubborn ruler of Mandalore!”

 Obi-Wan sighs. Careful. He stands, walks to the other side of the room, runs his hand over his face. He turns, regards you thoughtfully. Careful now, do not lose her.

 “How would leaving help?”

 “I would not be confined within so many rules, for one.”

 “Without these rules, it will be all that much easier to give in to temptation,” Obi-Wan reasons. For a brief moment, he thinks he has got you, that the way your voice calmed and the way you seem sure of what you’re about to say means that he’s gotten through. It doesn’t take him a full second for him to realise it is quite the opposite.

 “This has nothing to do with your teachings, Master. You have trained me, and taught me with more patience than I deserved , and I will forever be grateful to you,” Your gaze is ever so thankful when you look at him, and he knows that your mind has been made up. He reaches for you, strokes a thumb across your cheek. He doubts he will get the opportunity to hold you this close again.

 “Stay.”

 “I can’t,” You sound so pained that he wants to throw up. “I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, but I can’t, Master.”

 You stand, straighten your robes, and turn for the door. He says your name softly, but you do not hear it.

 “I can do more good away from the Order than if I stayed in it. I know it.”  

 He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand how you could have been going through so much till you were driven to considering leaving. He didn’t understand how you could have thought that you couldn’t tell him, that he’d look at you differently or think less of you. He didn’t understand how you could be willing to leave everything behind-

 He did understand.

 Obi-Wan was blatantly lying to himself, perhaps for a moment for self-pity. He was lying to himself because he understood perfectly. It wasn’t as though he had never considered leaving the Order himself. The life of a Jedi was by no means one that was easy.

 Several times, during his Padawan training, he thought of leaving all he knew behind. Maybe travel the galaxy. Find his family on Stewjon, if he had any. Maybe he’d settle down on a nice planet, have a life and family of his own. For a brief period he entertained, with a tinge of melancholy, staying with Satine on Mandalore. But even all those years ago, Obi-Wan was a practical man. And she, a practical woman. Love didn’t always mean things had to work out, or that they were meant to be.

 There was once he came dangerously close to leaving. Planned it, in fact. His bags were packed and his books and trinkets tucked away. A few letters, written to friends in the order, were tucked under his pillow back in his room on Coruscant. Another letter addressed to Qui-Gon, placed on the table in his room. After the negotiations with the Trade Federation about the blockade over Naboo, he would lead a life away from the Order that he had tried so hard to abide by.

 The universe has a funny way of working however, and within the span of no more than a week, Obi-Wan’s life priorities had shifted inordinately.

 So, yes, Obi-Wan understands, more than he’s willing to admit.

 But above understanding, he’s… scared.

 Not about you leaving, while that hurts, the notion of you leaving the Order isn’t what truly strikes him. It’s the thought of you leaving him, and beyond that, it’s the way that he’s already started planning how to leave the Order with you.

 You didn’t ask him to leave. He didn’t offer. He’s operating under the assumption that you’ll be completely alright with him staying by your side, even though he has no confirmation that it is indeed the case.

 But he’d leave the Order if you said the word. If you said any sort of variation of “I don’t want to leave you,” he’d throw it all behind and whisk you away to a pretty little planet and start a new life with you. One with plants and a view- something you’d like.

 It doesn’t matter that it won’t be the life he wants, he’s already accepted that you don’t feel the same way about him that he does you. But he’d be there for you, as a friend, as a mentor, as a companion. He’d be there as long as you needed, for whatever you needed.

 (That’s sort of the beautiful thing about love, and unrequited love especially. It doesn’t make you weak, no, it makes you strong, and brave. The power of unrequited love is wholly beyond any comparison. To love the person, you don’t have a need for the person themselves. It’s impossible to love someone beyond loving them so completely that their happiness is enough to sustain you. You can’t lose in a love like that, especially if you never had anything to begin with.)

 He’d love you. Completely, and fully, and without fear. He’d love you, and be completely content with your little smiles and the kisses you’d press to his cheek. He’d love you if you’d let him, and he would do it at a distance if you’d rather he didn’t. It doesn’t matter to him, not truly.

 Obi-Wan would have to speak to Anakin about it, first and foremost. He wouldn’t just leave without a goodbye, and he certainly wouldn’t let Anakin hear it from anyone else. It would hurt, the goodbye, but Anakin would be alright without him.

 With a wry smile, Obi-Wan thinks of how much he’d have to say to his former Padawan, the great man that he now was. About how proud he was of him, how honoured to have been a part of his life. He thinks of Ahsoka, somewhere out there traversing the galaxy, never one to stay too long in one spot if she could help it. He thinks of his friends, of his life, of everything he’s ever known.

 He sees you, walking steadily away from him, hand closing around the handle of the door.

 “If you truly believe that leaving the Order will make you happy…” Obi-Wan trails off, words dying in his throat. You’re still standing stiffly by the door, and all he can do is stare at the back of your head.

 Obi-Wan clears his throat and tries again.

 “If that is truly what you desire,I ask that you allow me to accompany you. If not,” Desire, desire, selfish desire, a small voice in the back of his head sings. And, well, let it never be said that he did not at least try. “When you leave, I shall ask for nothing more than your friendship, if that is all you wish to give.”

 It’s rather ironic, really, that Obi-Wan has spent so much of his life asking for nothing, hiding his emotions away for the sake of the Jedi, and the Code, when it is in fact his moments of vulnerable honesty that endears him to his Padawans.

 There is no other explanation for why his former Padawan saw it fit to turn around and hug him, tears in her eyes and sobs building up in her throat.

 Of course, Obi-Wan does not question her being in his apartment the next weekend when he invites his Padawans over for tea, nor does he question it when she goes on a mission the next month, nor does he question it when half a year has passed and she’s grumbling about needing a new lightsaber. He does not question it when she pours herself into research and is appointed a position in the Order that is not easily filled.

 He does not question it when she knocks on his door the night before his first official departure as a General of the Republic, and finds her way into his bed, face pressed into his neck.

 “What do you need?” He asks.

 And she answers, “You.”

.. .-..---...-.-.-----..-

the end

.. .-..---...-.-.-----..-

[shudderue]

ok. au thoughts that i'm putting on here because i'll either lose them in a google doc otherwise or just. never do anything with them and i need peer pressure to utilise them#

somewhere around the 1500s, the war begins. same premise as in canon: some cunts want he faceless ones back, some don't. it's messy.

china, having grown up in the church of the faceless, rises quickly to the head of the diablerie. bliss, after many failed attempts to get her away, leaves her be after deserting on his own.

mevolent is killed around 200 years into the action. china, as head of the diablerie, makes the controversial decision to step up as the leader of the faceless church. with serpine, known collector of magic, at her side, her own vast collection and family's relics, and the wealth of the faceless church at her hands, she quickly becomes unstoppable in a way mevolent could not.

the war effort switches: now, instead of trying to kill people, china is more than happy to let people die while she focuses on bringing the faceless ones into this world. so long as she has people - and she has many - as cannon fodder, she's happy.

meritorious' side realises that there's little they can do. ireland is a different place when china starts to near a century in power: the air is fraught with magic, crackling like electricity at your skin, blurring the edge of your vision. rifts crack open daily, spilling monsters on nobody's side but their own, horrifying creatures that you can't even imagine. the world is ready for the faceless ones: the people are not.

there's nothing for it,and with the impending arrival of the faceless ones, there is a final, last ditch effort - leave ireland. leave the cradles of magic, where sorcery is the foundation of everything, where the smell of witchcraft burns your nose if you pay too much attention to it. quarantine the magic of the world onto this little island, in australia, in a pocket in southern africa, and let them be. magic is no more, in the rest of the world, and that is a sacrifice that everyone who leaves must be willing to make.

few stay. few leave. many die. magic is no more, survived in only the near immortals who lived through the horrors of the war, their power locked away and unusable, their bodies kept strong and useful regardless, feeding on the remnants of magic never used. sorcery, for the most part, is no more, in the majority of the world.

two hundred years later, two men and a woman are arrested: a couple and their eldest child. black market smuggling is their crime - magical artefacts traded among thieves, crooks, assassins. these three are the latter, planning on using their wealth from the smuggled goods to buy their way into central london and kill the king - eachan meritorious, who stripped them of their "divine right", who stole away their children's right to magic, to long life, to a better world.

the youngest child, a baby of three weeks old, is raised by the state, trained to be the king's assassin in a cruel twist of fate. her parents and older brother spend the rest of their days in labour camps, toiling away to provide food and necessities for the population who toe the line, the former sorcerers and their descendants.

tanith, she calls herself when she is old enough to think about names and such. tanith low, raised among royalty and sent among rats, to kill any people who speak of bringing magic back to the world and to keep the peace, to keep the faceless ones from coming back.it is, almost, a happy existence.

there are rumours, however, to the west. the darklands, as they are called now, are their own little pockets of magic, uninterefered with. never did they quite manage to being back the faceless ones, but it's anyone's guess as to whether that was ever sorrows' actual intention. but there's something in the air, something coming, and sorrows needs to die.

tanith is sent to ireland, sneaking in and working her way closer to sorrows. her mission is simple - to kill sorrows - but unfathomably difficult, to kill the most powerful sorceress the world has ever seen, who can bring an army to their knees with a smile, will a man to cut off his own fingers with a smile, convince a mother to burn her child to ash without a word. but tanith, with no exposure to magic, is immune, and grows closer to her target every day, befriending china and, maybe, falling in love. because, of course, it's real, and she's the special one here, and, really, china would never hurt her, of course.

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE SEVENTEEN || KYOTO SISTER SCHOOL EXCHANGE EVENT - GROUP BATTLE 3

↳ featuring : basically everyone at this point from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of killing + mention of explosion + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 02 april

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.5k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : kyoto sister school exchange event - group battle 2

↳ next episode : sage

↳ barista’s notes : hehe you guys really don’t trust me anymore ʕ ꆤ ᴥ ꆤʔ...but here is the real episode everyone ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ i hope you enjoy it with all your hearts and don’t worry about anymore pranks, i am not that type of person unless it’s april 01 ʕ – ᴥ – ʔ

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5. for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique : hopefully this video is slightly better...

no cursed spells used this episode..

crescent moon shape cursed energy swing : here

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“You want to become the head of the Zenin clan?!” you questioned in a surprised tone before turning your head to the side to face the weapon specialist sorcerer, only for your upperclassmen to continue to take a swing from the water bottle that you had brought her.

“It’s to spite them. What? Don’t you believe in me?” Maki responded to you once she twisted the lid of the water bottle closed before turning to look at you with a small smile.

“No, it’s not that...it’s just the process is just a whole drag, you know the paperwork, the connections with the other clans as well as your own family, it’s draining,” you commented before slowly laying down on your back leading your head to land on your track top that you had placed as a pillow.

“I’m surprised that you didn’t mention anything about the criticism,” Maki mentioned, leading you to stare up to the sky for a second before shifting your eyes to her direction, only to peer at a face that didn’t show any hesitation nor worries but rather confidence.

“I don’t care about criticism at all, it’s just a whole drag ass of a process, especially when you have to deal with two other male clan leaders,” you muttered under your breath since you didn’t want to mess up by saying three since you were technically the head of the L/N clan unofficially.

“I guess so, but I can’t wait to see the look on my family’s face when I become a hotshot sorcerer though,” Maki mentioned as she took her glasses off to give you another smile causing you to fully turn your head to the side to gain a proper clear view of your upperclassmen before giving her a soft smile back.

“If it’s you, then I wouldn’t mind at all Maki-san,” you declared causing the sorcerer to giggle lightly at your comment leading you to follow on since the laughter of Maki became really contagious for some odd reason.

‘If it’s you, then I wouldn’t have to hide anymore…’

“By the way, where is that idiot taking you this week?” Maki suddenly questioned, causing you to look at her with a slightly perplexed expression on your face before you came to the sudden realisation that she was talking about the strongest sorcerer that became your adoptive father.

“He’s taking me somewhere this week?” you asked confusingly as you quickly sat straight up only to find the mentioned man wearing a pair of black tinted glasses with the classic outfit of a simple white button-up shirt with black suit-like pants waving at you.

“Looks like he is, have fun on your daddy-daughter date,” Maki teased before standing up to continue training with the other second years as well as your classmates that gave their teacher a glare since they wanted to train with you a little longer.

                                            ꕥ

“Why does Maki-san have to suffer because of that stupid clan?” Nobara shouted loudly causing you to jump slightly because you didn’t expect her to be yelling in the middle of Starbuck with her chocolate Frappuccino in hand before you started to look around to make sure no one was looking in your direction since people weren’t supposed to know about the existent of sorcerer as of right now.

“What’s wrong?” you asked in a concerned tone since you didn’t really want to cause a scene right now as you moved your vanilla cream Frappuccino straw away from your lips. 

“I don’t get why the Zenin clan are halting Maki-san’s promotion, it’s stupid!” Kugisaki declared as she waved her arms around to exaggerate her statement nearly making you giggle at the sight since she looked like a sea creature right now.

“Well, it is quite common for families to do that when one of their members do not have cursed energy within them, they don’t even take the Heavenly Restriction into consideration,” you answered before taking another sip of your sugary drink.

“But why, isn’t superhuman physical prowess a good thing?” Kugisaki asked, before beginning to scroll through her phone to look up other places that you and she needed to visit before you both left to go back to Jujutsu Tech.

“Well, once they reject someone, they won’t take someone back, it saves them from the embarrassment of taking someone back,” you answered before looking to the side where there was a window, showcasing the roaming crowd in the city of Shibuya as some students were roaming around with books in their hand to head off to the library and some office workers, who were rushing back to their workplace from their lunch break.

“To be honest, it’s quite pathetic, it’s better to have someone that has superhuman strength and speed than a pure jujutsu sorcerer sometimes,” you commented, causing your classmate to look at you with confusion on her face.

“Why do you think that?” Kugisaki questioned as she was becoming intrigued by what was going on in your mind right now.

“Sometimes they survive things that other sorcerers can’t, it’s like a cheat code from certain death,” you answered as you turned to look at your friend before taking another sip of the vanilla drink that was right in front of you. “Besides, the Zenin clan are just full of weak men that are scared that they have to bow down to a woman, it would be funny to see them shocked,” you stated with a smile on your face leading Kugisaki to look at you with a surprised expression before seeing the slight hint of amusement in your eyes once that statement left your mouth to which caused a small smirk to appear on her face as well.

“There’s a reason why the queen is the most important chess piece on the board,” you comment before taking another sip of your vanilla Frappuccino letting the sweet flavour fall onto the tip of your tongue as if you could already taste your victory if you ever went against the Zenin clan in your lifetime.

                                        ꕥ

“Do you get it?” 

Snapping out of her thoughts, Kugisaki quickly looked up to discover her opponent in an extremely irritated expression, who was currently in the air as she was sitting upon her broom that just minutes ago slammed across the face.

“They don’t demand strength from female jujutsu sorcerers, they demand perfection! And on top of that, Mai-chan is also fighting against even more outrageous demands,” Nishimiya declared as she stared down at Kugisaki while trying to explain the disadvantages of being a female within the sorcery world that they were both currently in while trying to make Kugisaki conscious about the situation of her lower classmen and somewhat make her feel some sympathy towards her.

“I get that you’re a pain in the ass!” Kugisaki declared as she used her cursed energy to raise up three nails before swinging towards them Nishmiya leading her to dodge with her broom effortlessly before using a huge gush of wind towards the first-year, only to her surprise that Kugisaki was still standing with a smirk on her face, just like the one she showed you back when you both went on that Starbucks date.

“I’m used to getting knocked around and that attack isn’t even enough to compare to what I’ve been through,” Kugisaki mentioned while lifting her bangs away from her face as she began to recall the amount of time you had made her lose her footing as well as violently hitting her to the point where Panda had to save her a few times before she could even hit the tree she was going to crash into during the two months of training that everyone had.

“All done with your lecture?!” Kugisaki rhetorically asked as she raised up more of her nails before violently smashing them with her hammer towards Nishimiya again leading the sorcerer to dodge them once again while continuing on with her speech.

“Perfection is easy compared to what’s demanded of Mai-chan! She’s from the Zenin-can, one of the three major clans of elite jujutsu sorcerers. Perfection is expected as a matter of course there,” Nishimiya commented as she continued to ride her broom before stabilising herself once the attack had finished. 

“‘Inherit the Zenin clan’s hereditary technique.’ Anywho don’t meet that demand, start their sorcerer lives as failures. Among those, women aren’t even allowed to stand at the starting line. Without the Zenin clan lineage, they’re not considered jujutsu sorcerers and if they’re not jujutsu sorcerers, they’re not considered people,” Nishimiya yelled out as if it was her own story that she was reciting to Kugisaki, leading to the first-year to somewhat zone out as she began to remember something that you had mentioned to her one time.

‘Gender should not matter at the end of the day, if you can beat or exorcise them...why should you care what gender they are? You won the chess game, right?’

“She’s lived her entire life with such scorn in a family without a shred of affection. Can you imagine how much Mai-chan and others suffered just to obtain what we enjoy as a matter of course? Why don’t you try thinking over with that brain of yours that confuses curses for friends?” the blonde-haired sorcerer questioned, before swiftly dodging a nail that was thrown at her suddenly.

“Shut up. Do you think misfortune is a free pass to do anything? What, then? You’re satisfied with those who are blessed getting trash-talked behind their back? That’s how Saori-chan…,” Kugisaki questioned in a low and threatening tone as she began to reminisce about her childhood friend that was run out of her countryside town just because she was from the city.

“I can’t stand her, regardless of her upbringing and I love Maki-san, who endured the same upbringing. Have you all even bothered to think about what kind of person the idiot you’re trying to curse is?” Kugisaki asked once again, only to get a silent and annoyed expression as her answer. “What makes us obligated to meet such perfection or such absurd demands? Gojo...she doesn’t even strive for perfection as a special-grade sorcerer. Is your entire life just a job?!” the first-year yelled out before lifting her hand as she angrily activated her curse technique leading to multitudes of large explosions of cursed energy to surround the entire forest, forcing Nishimiya to fly around the area in a panic towards getting hit by any of the blasts.

Suddenly, as Nishimiya tried to, once again, stabilise herself on her broom, another nail was thrown causing it to land on a tree trunk only for a sudden foot to make its way on top of it as a stepping platform leading Kugisaki to jump up with full strength to reach up towards her opponent. However, it only led her to grab a few bristles of the flying divide.

“You might have brought me down, but you still won’t reach me!” Nishimiya declared as she released another gust of wind to push Kugisaki back down to the ground only for your classmate to land roughly on her feet as she took out one of her straw dolls from her school jacket.

“No, I reached you. This is plenty,” Kugisaki mentioned as she stuck one of the straw bristles on the doll as she continued with “I don’t give a damn about ‘men’ this and ‘women’ that! You can keep that shit to yourselves! I love myself when I’m pretty and all dressed up! And I love myself when I’m being strong!”

“I am... Kugisaki Nobara!” Kugisaki proudly declared before slamming her hammer down on her doll letting her cursed energy flow into her equipment, suddenly causing Nishimiya’s broom to malfunction as she began to drop.

‘If I hit here with my hammer, I might kill her,’ Kugisaki thought as she remembered what you told her leading her to smirk, yet she knew she couldn’t break the rules causing her to reach behind her back to reveal a red and yellow hammer that suddenly expanded to which lead the Kyoto sorcerer to identify it as a squeaky hammer only to be violently smacked with it across her face.

“One more time!” Kugisaki yelled out. However, before the hammer could even connect to Nishimiya’s face again, a sudden small but large impact was felt on her temple causing Kugisaki’s body to be flung over to the side leading Nishimiya to look surprised before facing forward as she wondered who was the person responsible for saving her.

                                          ꕥ

“Hello? Momo?” Mai greeted as she placed her phone on her ear trying to communicate with her teammate. “Don’t worry, it was a rubber bullet,” she then reassured Nishimiya as she knew that the third-year already sympathised her and now she was worried that she might have killed someone during the Exchange Event.

“Most importantly, that light was Ultimate Cannon, right? But I can’t get in touch with Mechamaru. If he was cornered enough to use such a powerful technique, and now this, he most likely lost,” Mai informed her schoolmate as she was trying to relay information that she could assume since it was important to know the status of the Kyoto team right now.

“Panda will likely be returning, you should leave that spot and support everyone from the air. We’re all in trouble without you,” the Zenin member mentioned leading to the other person on the line to agree before she slowly uttered her name.

“It’s all right, Momo, I know,” Mai mentioned in a soft tone, trying to convey to her friend that it was alright before hanging up once Nishimiya got the message.

“What? Not going to call your friends?” someone yelled out as they stood on a branch, directly opposite to Mai at this current moment in time. “I don’t mind going two-on-one,” the second-year confidently stated with a smile on her face.

“There are many ways to enjoy this, right?” Mai asked before processing to stand up on her feet. “I could have everyone beat you together, but I’d like to enjoy you...by myself,” Mai declared as she raised her gun with a vexed expression displayed on her face as she faced her twin sister.

“Call me ‘Onee-chan,’ little sister,” Maki stated as she raised her katana.

However, before they could even start a fight another deafening explosion was heard causing them to turn in the direction to where it was heard, only to see a similar crescent-shaped wave of cursed energy flung into the air leading Mai to took at the scene with widening eyes as she slowly came to the realisation who was the cause of it.

“I think you should call Kamo and tell him to stop fighting with Gojo...it might lead him going to the hospital,” Maki mentioned before pushing herself forward to attack her sister.

‘If it’s you, then I wouldn’t mind at all Maki-san’

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[tteokdoroki]

hello! if you’re still doing these could i please request 7 with Bakugou?

if you’re not taking them pls delete !! 💕

katsuki bakugou x gn!reader.

tteokdoroki teaparty event masterpost!!

♡ prompt #7  —  reader has a secret admirer, character of choice doesn’t know how to confess.

♡ genre: everyone, fluff + slight angst.

♡ word count: 1.8K

♡ warnings: cursiing!

♡ author’s notes: thank you for requestiing my lovely !!

yet again, warmth spreads underneath your skin and across your chest at the sight of the chocolates displayed cutely across your desk. for the last week or so, you’d received a flurry of gifts from an unknown admirer— each attached to a sweet note, written with such deep feelings that every time you read one your heart thumped loudly in your chest.  

“let me guess, another one?” mina swoons from your right, joining you in the empty classroom for the day ahead. pink hair tickles at the junction between your head and your shoulder as she reaches for the box of sweets in your grip— you don’t bother putting up a fight, knowing she’d take it from you anyway. “that’s like the third time this week, yn.”

bowing your head shyly, you run your fingers over the small note that lays unfolded on your desk. ‘for you, i’d do anything.’ it reads and you wonder for the umpteenth time; you out of all of classmates is capable of writing such a thing. “i know, i really wish i knew who’s sending them— no ones ever quite done something like this for me before.” you voice is quiet and hopeful, a contrast to the bustling energetic babbles that come from your third year classmates as they filter in for the day ahead. you scan them all to look for a possible source, knowing that your heart could belong to anyone of them.

“it’s gotta be deku!” kaminari cuts through your train of thought like a knife through butter— throwing his arm around your shoulders as he plucks the box of chocolates from mina’s grip, much to her annoyance. “he’s like the sweetest dude in the class, there’s no way it could be anyone else. we’re not capable of cute shit like that.” you roll your eyes and allow your friend to tear open the box for a morning treat but let your gaze slip over to where izuku chats animatedly with ochako. not him.

jirou is next to speak, ripping the box from the blonde to take it to her desk beside yours. kaminari whines as the girl divides up the sweet snacks for, taking one for both herself and mina. chaos is ensuing and yet again, your friends are the centre of it. “nah, my bet’s on sato...how else would yn be getting so many sweet treats every day?”

the group falls silent, mulling over the choice as you finally take a seat and swipe one of the chocolates for yourself. popping it into your mouth, you huff in frustration.

“doesn’t make sense, everything gifted to me so far has been insanely exclusive or expensive...some are even my favourites from abroad and— i don’t speak to sato enough for him to know them...“ you admit, pawing your cheeks with embarrassment.

“maybe it’s kirishima then! you guys are always together and he kinda seems like the romantic type..?” your pink haired friend suggests and the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. it was true, you were both always together— even if it was in the presence of others like bakugou and kaminari— and had more than enough in common, from music tastes to gaming. you could see the hardening hero as someone you’d go for as well, eijirou was an obvious choice. “what do you think, bakugou?”

you peek up from the note ( neatly folded ) and box of chocolates ( now returned ) that sit on your desk, catching the arrival of your final three friends. bakugou, sero and kirishima himself. you feel body flush with warmth as you catch the latter’s ruby eyed gaze and give him a small wave accompanied by a smile; that kirishima quickly returns.  

the blonde however, tsks at mina’s question before making his way to his seat. you considered yourself and katsuki to be good friends; it was usually quiet whenever you too were around one another which was a nice change of pace from his usual rowdy personality— but the majority of your time with each other was spent with him teasing you for your quirk.

“‘m callin’ bullshit. whoever this is should hurry up and face how they feel. the candy shit is stupid.” bakugou growls out, throwing his backpack onto the desk; ready to begin class. in all three years of knowing him, he’d never showed any signs of romantic interest towards anyone in your class, especially you. meaning that your admirer, definitely bakugou.

you turn away from him and your group of friends to face the board, ignoring how they scold him for his harsh words. “right, stupid...” you sigh quietly, just as aizawa enters the room.

ever since your brief conversation with the explosive boy himself, bakugou had been increasingly rude to you throughout the day and it was starting to get on your last nerves. at first, it had been subtle— bumping you in the corridors between classes, pretending he didn’t have an extra pen for you when you knew that he carried spares for your friends who often forgot and then he’d straight up ignored your invitation to study during lunch like you usually did.

you figured that the blonde was having a bad day, bakugou was never usually this harsh to you and you could talk it out with him later. this behaviour was something you hadn’t seen from your friend since first year, and you almost believed that something else had been bothering him— until he almost blew you high into the sky during hero training that afternoon. of course you called him out on it, yelling at him in front of the entire class as your frustrations finally bubbled over but bakugou remained straight faced— leading to your current predicament.

aizawa thought it was best for the two of you to work things out over cleaning duties after school— something you thought you’d been well past seeing as you were third years now. mature, grown up third years who knew how to talk about their problems. apparently, katsuki bakugou was not one of them. even while you rearranged chairs and swept under desks, he still managed to crawl under your skin with petty remarks and hums of disapproval.

it’s only when you realised that katsuki had been actively trying to avoid your gaze or rather, your entire presence— that you snapped, dropping the broom you held in your hands and letting it clatter to the floor beside him, ultimately grabbing his attention.

“are you fucking insane—?”

“what the hell is your problem, bakugou?” you slice right through his words, a quiet rage flooding your bloodstream as you glare down at him. the boy himself looks dumbfounded, having never heard you talk to him in such away, before and stops shelving the books he had been holding. “did i do something to you?”

“like I’d let you do anythin’ to piss me off.”

god, he infuriates you. you step closer to the blonde, who stands at least half a head taller than you and shove at his chest as best you can— needing an outlet for your frustrations. “then why have you been acting like an asshole all day? first you blow me off and then you quite literally blow me up, and now? you’re avoiding me?” your fists curl in his untucked shirt, tugging at it as all of your emotions spill out into the space between you. “i don’t know what i did, but it doesn’t mean you get to treat your friend like shit, katsuki. you’ve been so mean to me today!”

bakugou looks away, avoiding your eyes that cloud with a sadness he can’t bare to face. you tell yourself not to cry, hating the way your bottom lip wobbles at his change in attitude. “’m mean to everyone, there’s nothin’ special about you.” he excuses himself, trying to step away from you.

“but not to me, you know that,” your voice shakes, everything you’d held back finally slipping through opened cracks. why was he treating you this way? what had you done to deserve this? you glance up, trying to find his vermillion eyes and the answers that may lie behind them. “you’ve been acting so...so off, since this morning, when mina asked about my admirer. you called it stupid. is it so hard to believe that someone, that kirishima might even like me?” the grip you had on bakugou’s shirt loosens but you remain leaning against him, neither of you daring to breathe. “why should i even care what you think? you’ve never been one for romance...u-unless you count the manga that you read but i don’t know how that would...”

and then your babbling stops, realisation washing over you in heavy waves. bakugou appears visibly tense before you, fist clenching and unclenching by his aides as you process your own train of thought. he hadn’t been mean to you for the sake of it, he had been because he didn’t know how else to express his feelings of jealously. it wasn’t kirishima that had been sending you notes, no— it had been bakugou all along. “how that would relate to me...” you think out loud, feeling him flinch beneath your grip. “k-katsuki...do you have a crush on me?”

“...don’t...” the blonde warns, heat rushing to his cheeks at your very accusation. a smile comes rushing to your cheeks, the familiar warmth finding its way back into your chest. “don’t look at me like that, fucker. i-i’m not good at this emotion shit, you know that and this was easier than talking— yn, stop fucking lookin’ at me like that.”

the almost whine that slips from between katsuki’s lips makes your tummy fill with affectionate butterflies, causing you to finally let go of his poor shirt and throw your arms around him in a tight hug. bakugou hesitates for a moment, trying to decode the situation and decide for himself if this was real— but you decide to do the talking and tell him foot yourself. “can’t help it, not when i feel the same way about you, katsuki.” you knew that no matter who was behind your little gifts and love notes, your heart would belong to your admirer and your admirer alone. with a rush of adrenaline after feeling katsuki return your embrace, you lean up to press a soft lingering kiss to his chapped lips.

he tastes like honey and smoke, feels warm like a soft summer breeze but as your lips love together and speak a thousand unspoken confessions, the pair of you realise that you never want the moment to end. “i meant what i said in that last note,” bakugou hums softly, pressing his forehead to yours and holding you close as if you’re going to disappear or suddenly realise your feelings for him aren’t true. “i’d do anything for you...”

“anything?” for the second time that day, you swoon at the blonde’s words and peck his nose gently.

he nods once, lost in thought before speaking again. “except for buy you those fucking chocolates again. they’re fucking expensive, cost a shitload.”

you snort at that, leaning up to lock lips him again— who needed chocolate when you could kiss katsuki bakugou instead.

[marvelfansince08love]

hi laurennnn. how about soft platonic!wandanat (like wanda and nat are in a relationship, reader isn't) taking care of the reader (who they've kinda taken under their wing) after she did something really stupid on a mission? i hope that makes sense

Happy WandaNat Wednesday!!! 

Title: Breathing Again

Word count: 3k 

Pairing: WandaNat x Platonic!Reader 

Warning: a little sad, some fluff 

A/N: Minimal editing so I do apologise! Mysh (mouse) Myshka (little mouse) 

Gif owner @diegclila <3

For Alexis x @canarypoint

Breathing Again 

The first thing you noticed was the pain, that sore aching pain that reached all over your body as you tried to adjust to the bright light as you awake, groaning at the sensitivity of your eyes that stare back at the white light. Your gaze flickers around the dark room trying to gather your senses, blurry outlines begin to focus as you notice a familiar figure curled up on the chair beside the bed you’re lying on. You swallow and lick at your dried lips. 

“Wanda,” your voice rasped and croaked as you gained the tired witch’s attention watching her rouse to the sound of your voice. She moves quickly from her position once she notices you awake, her hands tentatively brushing your hair from your face as green eyes take in the almost healed bruises and scrapes that scatter across your skin. 

“Shh sweetheart, here drink some water.” she instructs softly, her voice hushed as she moves to grab you a glass of water from the side table. She tilts the glass to your lips slowly allowing you to take in the cold liquid sighing in relief as you quench your dying thirst. Turning your head you watch her frantically move towards the door calling for someone as you frown still unsure of your whereabouts, she rushes back over to you and smiles reassuringly. 

“What happened to me?” you ask, the events still a blur as you try to remember pieces of the mission. It was supposed to be a simple rescue job until an old rival of Tony’s decided to show up and stir up trouble causing the mission to go sideways, a second explosion had gone off close to where you were helping civilians escape out of the wreckage from the first hit unaware of the possibility of a second wave of explosions.

Wanda sits on the edge of the bed, her hand rubbing soothing strokes across your bicep. Watery eyes lock onto your own as you see her struggle to gather her words, before her gaze drops to her lap. 

“You were almost out of the building when the second explosion went off, Nat tried to get to you she was screaming for you to retreat but you were too stubborn for your own good,” she pauses, as she raises a scolding eyebrow at you but her eyes remain soft and full of relief at seeing you awake and breathing; living. “There was a cry for help just south of the building and as you got them out the explosion hit and you- you tried to use your powers to deflect the force but you weren’t prepared for it and-” a sob escapes from her throat as you struggle to sit upright tilting your head to gain her attention again. 

“I’m okay Wanda,” your words make her look up almost instantly, a small sad smile gracing her lips. 

“Barely, we were told that your chances of coming around-” “Y/N!” Tony’s voice cuts off Wanda’s as he races in with a woman dressed in a white lab coat, her badge indicating her profession. She moves swiftly towards you shining a bright light in both of your eyes making you squint at the harshness, your body still coming around from what feels like a million years of slumber. 

“Nice to see that you’ve come around, Y/N. I’m Doctor Jones, I’ve been looking after you while you’ve been here. Do you know where you are?” she asks, as if routine. “I uh- yeah. The hospital right?” you mumble, not overly confident with your answer. She smiles kindly at you as she nods in confirmation. 

“That’s right and while we have been able to keep you stable, you’ve been through some major trauma alright so I need you to take it easy for me while we go through some routine check ups okay? Do you remember what happened to you?” she continues to ask questions as she checks over your vitals, moving with such ease and experience as Tony remains quiet next to her but still hovers close to the good doctor who seems to be irritated by his lack of personal space. From the expression on her face this isn’t the first time Tony’s been pestering her while you’ve been out, you frown at that thought. 

“How long have I been out for?” your question makes them freeze, as Doctor Jones for the first time pauses as she writes on your chart, eyes flicker from one another. Wanda licks her lips as she looks away seeming to struggle with answering your question making you turn your attention to Tony. His shoulders slack as he stands a few inches away biting at his thumb nail.

“Two months and three days,” his words make your eyes widen as the machine next to you begins to bleep loud and fast.

“Two months!” you exclaim, your breathing becoming more erratic as you feel your chest tighten. Wanda seems to finally snap out of her tortured daydream as she focuses on your anxious form, her lips shushing you, her hands cupping your jaw as her thumbs brush across your cheekbones. 

“Y/N. Listen to me, I need you to calm down okay?” she instructs, taking a deep breath in silently asking you to mimic her actions. A familiar routine that you’ve both done ever since your first anxiety attack after your first mission with the team. Her soothing efforts seem to work as Doctor Jones informs you that all your vitals seem to be all stable and that once you have been medically reviewed, you can be discharged home back to Avengers Tower. 

Once the Doctor had left, Tony finally joined you and Wanda by the bedside sitting at the foot of the hospital bed. The pair caught you up on the past two months reassuring you that not a lot had changed, the lack of Natasha’s name didn’t go unnoticed by yourself though. 

“Wait, what happened to Natasha?” the two share a look at the mention of the redhead assassin. Tony pats your leg and smiles softly. 

“She’s fine, Kid.” he reassures, but Wanda’s distant look does nothing to calm your worries.

Since joining the Avengers you have become close to the assassin and the witch that sits beside you. The two had been dating for a while before you joined the team and became somewhat like mother’s to you, your mentors. Peter has Tony and you, well you had the two most badass women on your side. Moving away from your parents to live with the Avenger’s had been difficult at first, still trying to control your powers as well finding a way to fit into an already established team was hard but Natasha had been nice and warm towards you, teaching you the basics in hand to hand combat as well as weapons training while Wanda had taken you under her wing in the power’s department, having some power over certain elements yourself made you bond instantly with the witch. You had never been close to your parents, your abilities instantly labelling you as an outsider to them and the rest of your family but since being with the Avengers and having Natasha and Wanda look out for you, you finally felt a sense of belonging. 

Biting your lip, you nod trying to convince yourself of his words.

***

Walking slowly into the shared common room, you allow Wanda to guide you gently into the living room space where some of the team wait impatiently for you. Peter spots you first, smiling brightly as he takes in your tired form. Jogging over to you, he gently takes you into his arms and squeezes lightly.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispers, you squeeze your eyes shut to hold back on the tears. The realisation of just how close you were to losing your life becoming more prominent as you squeeze him back ignoring the pain that creeps up around your body at the tight pressure. 

“Me too,” you whisper back, before pulling away and greeting the others. Your heart tightens as the emotions from the last two days start to surface as Thor is last to greet you, his gentleness surprising you at the usually strong and mighty God who doesn’t realise his own strength at times. As they step away to give you some room to settle down on the sofa, you can’t help but look around for the certain redhead. Wanda notices your search as she comes to sit next to you, the guys moving towards the kitchen to help prepare for dinner which only heightens your suspicions knowing that Steve is the only one allowed to cook in the kitchen after the last incident that involved the microwave, pop-tarts and Thor. 

“Wanda, is Nat okay with me? Doesn’t she want to see me?” your voice leaving her no room to dodge your questions. She brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear as she searches for the right words. 

“Nat is fine, Mysh. Of course she wants to see you, she just- after the doctor told us that you might not make it through, Nat kinda retreated into herself. She would sit for hours at your bedside, I was the only one besides Clint who could get her to eat and sleep. I only managed to convince her to come back here a few days before you woke to get some proper rest,” she pauses, as tears build in her eyes. “Y/N, you have to understand one thing about Natasha. She has always been taught that love is for children, that in itself closed her off to any kind of personal relationships with others even after leaving the red room. Since meeting Clint and then being here with us, she’s been able to let go of that old notion and genuinely open up to the possible idea of love and friendship, to me, to the team, including you, Little Mouse.” she grins as she calls you the familiar nickname that Nat gave you after you started training with her. 

“Is she here? I’d like to talk to her,” you murmur, suddenly feeling the need to apologize to her for not listening to her during that mission but most of all needing to reassure her and see her for yourself. Wanda nods as she leans forward pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“She’ll be in your room,” she informs you, a knowing look passes through her green eyes as you nod. You stand and head for the elevator that leads to the private quarters before pausing and quickly moving back to Wanda briefly wrapping your arms around her chest from behind leaning your head against hers for a moment. 

“Thank you for looking after me,” you mumble, she pats your arms and smiles. 

“Go and see Nat,” are her only words, making you salute her mockingly as she laughs. 

***

Taking a deep breath in you allow yourself a moment as you take in the familiar hallway to your bedroom, observing the picture frames on the wall. Frames showing yourself with the couple on your birthday, cooking with Wanda and Peter in the kitchen and one from your latest sleepover with the two, face masks in place as you pull silly faces. You notice your bedroom door ajar as you peek through the gap noticing Natasha’s figure curled up on your bed as her shoulders remain rigid and stiff as she faces away from you.

“Wan, I’m not in the mood-” 

“It’s me,” you cut in, watching her become tense at the sound of your voice. She quickly sits up from your bed and faces you, her face stoic as her blue eyes take in your form. Moving further into the room you decide to crouch in front of her placing your hands onto her knees. 

“It’s me Nat, I’m home.” you whisper, fidgeting in place as your nervousness begins to take over. Her hands tentatively reach your cheeks cupping your jaw as her eyes assess the fading bruises. 

“I am so angry with you,” she murmurs, her voice betraying her words as fear remains evident in her voice. Your lips twitch as tears begin to build in your eyes. 

“I know and I’m so sorry I should have listened to you-” 

“Damn straight you should have. Do you know how scared I was when I finally got to you? You were so pale and you wouldn’t wake-,” she trails off, as she continues to take in your face. 

“Natasha I know I scared you-” 

“Scared me?! I have never been so terrified in my life Y/N, do you understand how important you are to this team, to Wanda.. To me! I know how frightened your parents were when we told them, they threatened to have you transferred to the hospital back at home and for us to never see you again.” you try to interrupt to explain that you understood but she continues, the emotions from the last two months finally surfacing. 

“You may not realise this, but we care about you... so much, Y/N. At first I was so angry with you for being so darn stubborn and not listening to me,” she confesses, standing to her feet as she begins to pace. You stand as well stepping back to allow her room to let out her frustrations folding your arms across your stomach. 

“Nat, I understand how reckless I was okay? I’m sorry I don't know what else to say right now,” you murmur, suddenly regretting the decision to do this now as you begin to feel lightheaded. The day’s events slowly creep up on top of you as you close your eyes for a second trying to steady yourself. Natasha seems to notice your swaying state and reaches forward wrapping a protective arm around your waist, guiding you towards the bed.

“Are you okay, Myshka?” she asks, worry evident in her voice. “Lie down,” she instructs softly, making sure the pillows are plumped behind your head. You look up shyly at her feeling the dizzy spell surpass slightly. 

“Will you stay with me? Since I pretty much slept for two months I’m scared that when I close my eyes I’ll-” 

“I know, Kid. Scoot over then,” she bumps her elbow against your shoulder as she comes to lie next to you. Facing each other, you can see the conflict pass through her blue eyes as she brushes a thumb across your cheek, capturing an escaped tear. 

“If you need to sleep, you can. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” she promises, watching as your eyes slowly start to close on command. Natasha continues to watch as your lashes flutter, a small smile spreading across her lips. 

“How is she?” Wanda’s voice whispers from the doorway, Nat turns her head towards her girlfriend, her eyes softening. 

“She was feeling a little woozy but I think she just needed some rest,” she explains, Wanda moves forwards and kisses Natasha briefly keeping her head close to the redhead for a moment. 

“And how are you, my darling?” Natasha shrugs, turning to face you again as Wanda moves to lie on your other side smiling warmly as you seek her out even in your sleep, cuddling into her side. 

“I’m doing okay, just knowing she’s here and safe it’s like I can suddenly breath again you know.” Wanda nods understanding her brief sense of loss and grief for you, the uncertainty of whether you would wake again still lingering. Natasha’s eyes rest upon your sleeping form as she continues to open up to the witch. 

“I may not have the privilege of carrying a child but she gives me hope, that I can be that mother figure and not screw it up with my own past traumas,” Wanda smiles, as she glances down at you. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” 

“Just so you know she is grounded for the next three years,” Natasha’s vows, although the teasing glint in her eyes shows she only half means it, making Wanda chuckle. 

“I think you’ll have to get in line because her parents are on their way here,” Wanda informs, squealing as you suddenly sit upright, eyes wide at the mention of your parents.

“Shit! My parents!” you exclaims, groaning as you hold the side of your head feeling a sudden headache coming on, Wanda pats your back in sympathy.

 “Don’t worry, Mysh. We’ve got your back,” 

“Speak for yourself,” Nat mutters, grumpily. You turn your head to face her, a pout in place knowing it’s never a good sign when Natasha sides with your parents. 

“Have already told you how sorry I am?” you ask, innocently making Nat grin mischievously. 

Two weeks later

“One large pizza for the still grounded teenager,” Wanda teases, as she enters her shared living room with Natasha holding two boxes of pizza.

You turn your head from your sitting position on the floor as the smell hits your nose, wiggling your fingers towards them as you reach out for the top box. Sticking your tongue out at the avenger for her comment, you open up the lid and take a big sniff humming in delight at the greasy goodness. 

“I’m going to forgive you for that comment. The pizza saved you this time, Maximoff,” you warn jokingly at the brunette as Natasha comes to sit next to you on the floor, her back leaning against the sofa. Wanda places a few slices onto her plate before curling up onto the single seat, her eyes full of fondness as she takes you both in, watching as you slap Nat’s hand away from your pizza slices. 

“You guys know we have a couch you can sit on, right?” she teases, as you and Nat shrug stuffing the slice into your mouths eyes focused on the television. 

“Come on, babe. Don’t be boring and join us,” Natasha entices, her eyes full of mischief as Wanda scoffs shaking her head. 

“You both eat like animals. I’ll stay over here with my half of the pizza thank you very much,” she huffs but the glint in her eyes shows her amusement. 

You all continue to munch happily on the cheesy slices as you and Natasha make ridiculous comments about the reality TV show that plays on the flat screen making you both laugh. Wanda smiles fondly enjoying the peace and the very normal atmosphere;  being a well known superhero with many enemies makes moments like this rare so she remains quiet, that small smile playing on her lips as she observes her two favourite people in this rare domestic bliss knowing there’s no other place she’d rather be. 

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @natasharomanoffswife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

[jamaisjoons]

love alive ⤑ jjk | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 a year after you and jungkook break up, the two of you meet at your brother’s party. 〞post break up au. exes to lovers au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: jungkook x reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 17k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: mentions of alcohol, swearing, so much angst, pining? i guess, they’re both broken up but still love each other so there’s that lmao, reader emotionally cheats a fair amount, dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, sub!reader, pussy eating, hair pulling, fingering, dirty talk, this was supposed to be soft sex but idk what happened, okay it’s kinda soft but also feral, tender feral sex, aka the seraphjoon vibe, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, multiple orgasms

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: YEEEHAW LOOK I DID SOMETHING !! i had sudden inspo for this fic and while it HURTS it doesn’t hurt too bad i dont think. anyway, i hope you enjoy it but its like 3am so i’m going to bed now hawyeet

⇥ part of the mixtape series

⏤ edited by my wonderful beta @shadowsremedy​

One late Friday evening, Jungkook finds himself in his apartment. He’s currently sat on the sofa, simply staring off into space as he waits for his date to return. Jungkook doesn’t really remember much about her, they’d just been to dinner and try as he might, he just hadn’t been able to focus on the conversation. One reason being none other than it had been a completely stilted conversation - first dates were always awkward - but paired with the fact he barely knows her, and that he’d been on about seventeen different first dates in the last three months, he’d found himself unable to really keep the conversation going.

Of course, the second - and more major - reason, would be that she’s not you.

But Jungkook would rather not think about that right now.

“Do you have any wine?” Jungkook’s date calls out. Breaking out of his daze, Jungkook’s eyes come back into focus as he trains his attention back onto her. Eyebrows slightly furrowed, he scrambles for her name. Jiha? Jihyo? Jihye! That’s it. Jihye looks at him expectantly, waiting for his answer.

“Uh, maybe. I don’t know,” comes Jungkook’s distracted answer, “there may be some in the bottom cupboard on the left-hand side,” he continues nonchalantly - not really thinking about it. He thinks he remembers seeing an open bottle there, but again, he doesn’t drink wine all that often so he doesn’t really care. He watches Jihye rummage around in his kitchen, her short black dress riding further up the backs of her thighs - and Jungkook knows he should feel some sort of attraction towards her - she’s incredibly beautiful - not to mention her body’s practically perfect - and yet, he feels… nothing.

Why is he on a date with her again? Oh yes, because she frequented the same gym as he did and had asked him out randomly earlier in the week. Jungkook lets out a little sigh, his head falls back onto the back of the sofa. Staring up at the ceiling, his mind casts back to all the dates he’s had recently. Most of them approach him and he doesn’t really know why he keeps saying yes - but he has an inkling it’s to do with the fact that he’s still not over you. Though, that doesn’t really matter.

You’re long gone, and the last Jungkook had heard about you, was that you’d met someone else - someone willing to give you more than he could - someone willing to give you what you want. His heart constraints at the thought of you, but he shakes the thoughts out of his head. He needs to move on - it’s been long enough. Almost a year. Well, it’s been exactly seven months, twenty-three days and nine hours since you walked out on him, but who’s keeping count? Certainly not him.

“Oh! I found some. It’s already open - do you mind if I have some?” Jihye asks, and reflexively, Jungkook finds himself rolling his eyes. If he hadn’t wanted her to have some, he wouldn’t have told her where the wine was. Biting his tongue, however, Jungkook just lets out a non-committal hum. Once done pouring herself a glass of wine, Jihye returns to him while taking a sip of her wine. Suddenly, she stops, her face twisting in disgusting as she spits her wine back into her glass. Own features twisting in disgust, Jungkook regards her through guarded eyes, wondering what was going on.

“Gross! Why does this wine have pieces of cork in it? Also, I think it’s gone off - it tastes weird,” Jihye gripes as she takes her glass back into his kitchen. Barely paying attention to her words, Jungkook stares in unsettlement at the bottle. The dark green glass glints under the warm kitchen lights, his heart lurching as he recognises the bottle.

With unfocused eyes, he stares at the bottle, unmoving as his mind buzzes with what feels like static. Hazily, he registers that Jihye is speaking, but through the thick fog of his memories, Jungkook’s mind barely notices what she’s saying. Nonetheless, the exact moment Jihye begins tilting the bottle over the sink, attempting to flush its contents, Jungkook jumps to his feet.

“No! Don’t throw it out,” Jungkook’s voice thunders, his long legs carrying him into the kitchen swiftly. Jihye startles, looking at him in dumbfounded incredulity.

“What? Why? It’s got pieces of cork in it, and it tastes funny,” Jihye replies, turning back and beginning to pour the wine again. Abruptly, Jungkook snatches the bottle out of her hand, causing Jihye to jump.

“It’s not off, it just tastes like that. It’s bad wine,” Jungkook mutters as he puts the stopper back in the neck of the bottle.

“All the more reason to throw it out?” Jihye suggests, Jungkook’s jaw flexing at her words.

“I’m not throwing it out,” Jungkook replies, his voice hardened. Jihye cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Come on Jungkook, I think you should throw it out,” Jihye says coyly, a smile crawling onto her face. Imperceptibly, Jungkook’s eyes narrow. The flirtatiousness in her demeanour isn’t lost on him, nor is the fact that she likely thinks he’s joking. But Jungkook isn’t joking. He’s not throwing the wine out - whether it has pieces of cork in it, whether it tastes bad, or even if it had been off, he’s not throwing it out.

“No,” Jungkook says, his voice full of resolve. Jihye startles as she realises he’s not being playful. She raises her eyebrow once again, cocking her hip to the side.

“What’s so special about it? It’s just a bottle of wine,” Jihye points out. Of course, to anyone, it would be just a bottle of wine - but to him, it’s so much more.

It’s the last thing he has left of you.

When you’d broken up with him, ending your five-year relationship, you’d moved everything out of his apartment. The stupid cushions Jungkook hated - really, they only took up more space on the sofa, meaning he couldn’t lounge about properly - your hundred and one towels, even the sheets: the ones that had smelled like you. They’re all gone, along with all your clothes and belongings, leaving a half-empty apartment, and a hole in Jungkook’s heart. Every and any trace of you had slowly been removed from his flat and consequently his life. And now, he’s left with just this bottle of wine. - the one you’d forgotten about because it’d been hidden at the back of the cupboard.

“Jungkook? Are you listening to me? What’s so great about this bottle?” Jihye asks. Once again, however, Jungkook’s mind wanders to you. Unable to pull away from the bottle, Jihye fades from the world, her voice becoming distant and hazy as he recedes back into his memories.

Flashback - three years ago

A knock resounding at Jungkook’s door, he takes a deep breath. Looking at himself in the mirror one last time, he brushes the non-existent lint off his blazer. Then, running his fingers through his hair, he nods at himself and leaves his bedroom. Approaching the door, he swings it open, a large smile painted on his face as he spots you.

“Hello, beautiful,” Jungkook greets the moment he spots you. However, the moment he actually sees you, he finds himself stopping. Dressed in a flowing sundress, a dazzling smile on your face and bright, twinkling eyes - you look positively radiant. A loud whoosh of air escapes his nose, his eyes softening at you, “you look gorgeous,” he breathlessly says, his voice low.

Your smile brightening, you grin up at him, “Happy third anniversary!” you call out cheerily. Jungkook bites his lip, and unable to stop himself, swoops down and presses a kiss to your lips.

“Happy anniversary,” he mutters back, his lips brushing yours with every movement. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you chew on it while giving him a smile. Even three years into your relationship, Jungkook still managed to set butterflies aflutter in the pits of your stomach with the slightest touch.

Swiftly, you step into his apartment, easily navigating your way towards his kitchen as you place the bags of food and wine onto his counter. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” you ask curiously, peering at your boyfriend through the corner of your eyes.

However, Jungkook only steps up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Nope!” he happily replies, popping the ‘p’ sound, “you said you’d rather just have a quiet night in. Besides, we went out for the cruise-ship dinner thing last year,” Jungkook continues, humming in thought at the memory. A smile curls on your own lips and you twist in his arms, winding your own around his waist as you place your head on his chest.

“Mmm, that was a good anniversary. But if I remember correctly, someone ended up being seasick from drinking too much,” you say pointedly, tilting your head to look up at him, your chin resting on his sternum. Despite his cheeks flushing a rosy shade, Jungkook scowls.

“It’s not my fault… the alcohol was stronger than I thought it was,” he mumbles under his breath. You shake your head in fondness, but then, your lips curl into a slight frown. Every anniversary, Jungkook had taken you somewhere - your first, he’d taken you on a ski trip, your second, he’d taken you on a weekend break to Jeju island, and of course, your third had been a cruise-ship dinner. This year, however, you’d been recently promoted to the department head of your company, but that had meant additional stress and weight to an already heavy workload. As a result, you’d asked Jungkook if he was okay with just a quiet night in - because there was nothing you wanted more than to just spend some time with your loving boyfriend.

“Are you sure this is okay? If you want to go out or something, we still can,” you ask. However, Jungkook only shakes his head once again while pulling you closer into him.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. Honestly. I just want to spend some time with you. Whether that’s here in my apartment, or in yours, or on an expensive date, or even in a garbage dump, it doesn’t matter. I just want to be with you,” Jungkook grins before smacking a sloppy kiss on your forehead. Face twisting in disgust, your earlier doubt about Jungkook being happy with your choice of date fades away, and you playfully smack him before pushing him away.

“Ew gross! You just slobbered all over me,” you gripe, rubbing the wet spot on your forehead.

Waggling his eyebrows, “and there’s more where that came from,” Jungkook playfully teases. A light snort escapes your lips as you shake your head before turning around.

“Yeah, whatever. I bought wine and steak for dinner. It’s not much but I don’t know, I felt like being classy,” you casually shrug while turning to the bag of groceries Jungkook hadn’t noticed. Head cocked to the side, he grimaces at the bottle of wine. Suddenly, you stop, your lips curling in a frown, “Although… in hindsight, I should have bought more food - knowing your bottomless stomach,” you sigh, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“Yeah, you probably should have,” Jungkook deadpans. Lips twisting into a pout, your shoulders deflate at his words. Jungkook sees your disappointment, his heart dropping in his chest at the thought of upsetting you. He’d meant it as a joke - really, he had - but you’d clearly taken it seriously. Stepping up to you, Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist once again, his chin resting on your shoulder and hands clasps around your belly.

“I was only joking, sweetheart,” Jungkook says lowly, his face nuzzling into your hair while he presses a kiss to the outer shell of your ear. “Wine and steak sound good. Very classy,” he continues, pressing another kiss to your flesh - this time the column of your throat.

Instantly, your lips curl into a victorious smirk, “Okay, great!” you say, your shoulders immediately perking up. Jungkook blinks at your sudden change in demeanour, his nose scrunching when he realises what’s just happened.

“Hey! Did you do that on purpose?” he asks, his eyes narrowing into slits, his gaze full of accusation. Face twisting into a picture of innocence, you smile at him coyly - and if he didn’t know you as well as he did, he’d buy it - but Jungkook sees the sparkle of mischief in your eyes.

Before he can open his mouth, however, you’re already cutting him off, “Where’s your corkscrew?” you ask, rummaging through his drawers. Jungkook watches you search through the utensils, your lips curling downwards in concentration.

His own lips twisting, Jungkook approaches you, helping you look for the corkscrew. However, after a few moments, “Oh. I don’t think I have one,” Jungkook finally says. Eyebrows furrowing slightly, Jungkook wonders if he ever even bought one, but he doesn’t think he has.

“Kook! How are we supposed to drink this now?” you whine, a pout forming on your face again. Shrugging, Jungkook whips out his phone.

“I’m sure we can like, find another way,” Jungkook replies, already googling a way to open the wine bottle. Curiously, you peer over his shoulder, Jungkook’s arm instinctively wrapping around you as he scrolls with one hand. Head tilting upwards, you smile at your boyfriend, his features slightly scrunched in concentration. Unable to help yourself, you lean up and press a kiss to the bottom of his jaw. The moment your lips brush his skin, the corners of Jungkook’s lips twitch before he twists his head and presses a kiss to the temple of your head.

Arms wrapping around his waist, you lean your head on his bicep, “find anything yet?” you ask, Jungkook humming in response.

“We could use a blowtorch,” he replies casually.

“Do you have a blowtorch?”

“Fair enough. We could smack it against the wall using something to cushion it.”

“And risk breaking the bottle? No thanks.” Like that, Jungkook continues reading out suggestions: from pumping it out using a bicycle tire pump, all the way to slapping it out with a shoe, only for you to refute them. Eventually, however, with no other option, you and Jungkook eventually try using a screwdriver. Which brings you to now, almost fifteen minutes later.

“Oh my god, I think I’ve got it,” Jungkook yells in triumph. You’re currently sat on the kitchen island, your legs dangling as you watch your boyfriend struggle with the bottle. About five minutes after attempting to open the bottle, you’d conceded defeat. Your boyfriend, however, is much more competitive than you are, and he’d downright refused to let the bottle win. Thus, for the last ten minutes, you’d watched your boyfriend futilely dig, and twist, the screwdriver into the cork.

Quirking your eyebrow at your boyfriend, your eyes rove over him. He’s currently stood with a victorious grin, the apples of his cheeks bunched up around his eyes. He’s holding out the wine bottle, the metal head of the screwdriver stuck into the neck of the bottle. Hell, the cork isn’t even in one piece anymore - bits and pieces of it littered on the floor around him from where Jungkook had dug it out in an attempt to bury the screwdriver into the wood stopper.

“Have you now?” you drawl sarcastically. It certainly doesn’t look like he’s got it. For one, the cork is still in the bottle.

Sneering at your snide tone, “Watch this!” Jungkook calls out, and then, grabbing the handle of the tool, he pulls as hard as he can. A loud pop resounds through the air and you startle slightly, watching as Jungkook holds the screwdriver - with half the cork attached to it - in the air.

“Oh my god! You did it!” you call in surprise, jumping off the table and walking towards him.

Puffing out his chest, “and you didn’t believe in me! But I did it anyway,” Jungkook says proudly.

You roll your eyes before gesturing to the half-broken cork, “yeah barely.”

“Tomato, tomato. Potato, potato. The point is, I did it, and we can have wine now” Jungkook replies. With another roll of your eyes, you cross his kitchen and pull two wine glasses out of his cupboard.

“Yeah, yeah. My knight in shining suit. Now come on! I’ve literally been waiting twenty-five minutes to drink this,” you say, holding out the glasses towards him. Nodding, Jungkook pours the wine, filling the tumblers halfway before placing the bottle back on the island.

He takes the glasses from your hand, placing them on the dining table and you follow him, placing the plates of food onto the table. The two of you take seats opposite each other, Jungkook raising his glass towards you in a salute. For a few moments, the two of you tuck into your food, the muffled sounds of your joint chewing filling the air.

Then, “this steak is cold,” you grumble, a grimace settling on your face. In hindsight, after spending all that time trying to open the wine, the two of you should have heated your food - but in the triumph of actually opening the wine, you’d both forgotten.

“Yeah, and this wine is fucking gross,” Jungkook gripes, his own features twisting in disgust. Blinking owlishly, you reach for your own glass, sipping the burgundy liquid. The minute it washes over your tastebuds, you find yourself gagging. It’s sour - the acrid stench of it only burning your nasal cavity and intensifying the bitterness of the wine.

Forcibly, you swallow it down before spitting and sputtering into your hand, “yeah, and it’s got pieces of cork in it. Gross, what a waste of a hundred and fifty thousand won,” you scowl. Immediately, Jungkook baulks.

“A hundred and fifty thousand won? For that trash?” Jungkook yells in incredulity. You look at him in surprise, the two of you simply staring at each other. Then, all of a sudden, the two of you burst out laughing. Neither of you has any real reason for why you’re both laughing. Perhaps it was the ridiculous price of the incredibly poortasting wine, perhaps it was that Jungkook had spent a good fifteen minutes struggling with said wine or perhaps it was because even after all that struggle, neither of you could stomach the taste. Either way, the absurdity of the situation isn’t lost on either of you, and you both can’t help but laugh hysterically.

“Man, I can’t believe you spent that much money on that shit,” Jungkook giggles, wiping away at his tears.

Lower lip pulled between your teeth, you grin at Jungkook, “I can’t believe you spent so much time trying to open it,” you quip. Shaking your heads, you both resume eating your food, forgoing the wine.

Once the two of you are done, you help Jungkook clear the table. Jungkook watches you throw out the leftovers before placing the plates into the sink. The kitchen lights are dimmed low, the amber light reflecting off of your skin and silhouetting you in its glow. The bright walls off his kitchen only help to highlight your body, the hem of your dress swishing around your thighs with every movement. His darkened, lust-filled gaze rakes over you and he can’t help but swallow thickly when his eyes rest on the smooth curve of your ass.

Helpless against his desire for you, you feel Jungkook’s arms wrap around your body. Loosely, his hands rest on your hips, the pads of his fingertips gently digging into your flesh. “Do you wanna head to bed?” Jungkook asks, his voice breathy as he begins peppering kisses along the column of your neck. You raise your eyebrow at his sudden change in demeanour. Nevertheless, you’d be lying if you said his light, attentive touch wasn’t clouding your head in hazy lust.

“All of a sudden?” you ask, your tone light and teasing. Jungkook responds by digging his fingers harder into your hips, pulling them back so your ass is flush against his crotch.

“If I’m being honest, I’ve wanted to get you out of this dress as soon as I saw you in it. You look beautiful. I love you so much,” Jungkook rasps in response, lightly nipping at the sensitive flesh just below your earlobe. Twisting in his hold, you wind your hands around his neck, carding your fingers through his hair at the back of his nape before lightly playing with the locks.

“I love you too,” you breathe out, “take me to bed and I’ll show you how much,” you breathlessly whisper back. A shuddering exhale escaping his lips, Jungkook’s mouth descends onto yours. Instantly, the two of you lose yourselves into each other; the wine bottle long forgotten.

“Jungkook? Are you even paying attention to me?” Jihye suddenly calls out, her hands waving in front of his face. Blinking blankly, Jungkook’s vision comes back into focus. He looks around his apartment - it’s still the same as it was two years ago. The kitchen lights are still low, and his walls are bright, and that same bottle of wine sits on his marble counter - practically mocking him - but you’re not here. It’s not you standing in his kitchen.

“I- you need to leave,” Jungkook chokes out, his voice hoarse and his throat thick with emotion. Jihye looks at him in dumbfounded bewilderment. She opens her mouth to argue, but then stops, her words dying on her lips. Taking in Jungkook’s distant gaze, Jihye notices his attention is once again on the bottle. With a scoff, she rolls her eyes before snorting. Then, grabbing her purse, she stalks out of his apartment - but not before slamming the door.

Jungkook doesn’t care.

Instead, he stares at the dark bottle of wine. His reflection glints back at him, his distorted face mirroring the despair and sadness etched onto his face. Once again, he loses himself into his memories. Memories of when the two of you were still together, memories of you smiling at him, of you kissing him, memories of the two of you, when you were both happy - and together. But not anymore. Now, those memories that he’d once cherished - once taken for granted - are tainted: bruised and tarnished with the restless memories of you leaving; of you walking out of this very same apartment and leaving him all alone.

The warm memories that had once been his saving grace, now leave him cold, with a deep ache in his chest.

With one final glance at the bottle, Jungkook buries his head in his hands, and then lets out a heartwrenching sob.

In the comfort of your own home, you lie in your bed, staring up into nothingness. The bedroom is completely bathed in darkness, not even a single sliver of moonlight peeking in through the blackout-blinds you had installed. After your third anniversary with Jungkook, you’d moved in with him, and your ex-boyfriend had hated any and every inkling of light while he was trying to sleep. He simply couldn’t sleep unless he was in complete darkness. Of course, after two years of living with him, you’d also gotten used to it - and now, you aren’t able to sleep without complete darkness either.

Yet, you still aren’t able to sleep. There are many reasons for your lack of sleep. Many of them are to do with your ex-boyfriend. It’s been just over half a year since you and Jungkook broke up. Almost eight months now since you walked out of his life. Eight months since you reluctantly broke off your five-year relationships. But you had no choice. You and Jungkook had wanted different things in life and though heartbreaking, you knew it was best for the two of you to go your separate ways then and there.

Of course, knowing that didn’t make it any easier. Nor does it help qualm the crushing bitterness, nor the misery, you feel at Jungkook’s absence in your life.

Though, you figure, those feelings are a given. After all, the two of you had been together for five whole years. Five years is a long time to spend with someone - and for the entirety of those years, Jungkook had been your one and only - the man you had loved with your entire heart. The man you still love with all your heart. It’s not like you could just forget five years of love in a day - nor in eight months. Hell, you don’t think you could forget him, nor the love you feel for him, in your entire lifetime.

Thus, in the absolute dark of your bedroom, you stare up at the ceiling. Though, you don’t really see it. No, all you see is darkness. A low sigh escapes your lips and you shift on your bed, trying to find a comfortable position. But try as you might, you simply can’t find one. And it has every reason to do with the man occupying your bed - if you remove your residual feelings for Jungkook out of the picture. Tilting your head slightly, you turn to your side. Even in the darkness, you can make out the obscure outline of your current boyfriend’s - though you use that term loosely, because really, he’s a family friend you’ve known a while and your mother had set you up with - face as he snores lightly. With another sigh, you turn your head back to stare at the ceiling.

Other than thoughts of Jungkook, one of the main reasons you can’t sleep is: you’re on the wrong side of the bed. For as long as you’d been with Jungkook, even before you lived together, Jungkook had always slept on the left, and you’d slept on the right. It wasn’t like you’d purposely decided on that, it’s just how it had worked out. Jungkook always slept on the left, and you on the right - before the two of you had even met. And after you’d met? Well, it had just clicked - as if the two of you were made for each other.

But now, you’re on the left.

And Minhyuk is on the right.

And it’s not right. Nor does it feel right. In more than one sense of the word.

Shifting once again, you lowly groan when a sting of pain shoots through your lower abdomen, bringing you to another reason you can’t sleep. You’re on your period, and with your period, comes the cursed cramps. No matter how much you try, you simply can’t seem to find a comfortable position to lie in. That, paired with the fact that you’re on the wrong side of the bed, and the plaguing thoughts of Jungkook, has insomnia gripping at your head. Momentarily, you’d considered getting up and heating up a hot water bottle to soothe your pain, but you simply can’t find it in yourself to get out of bed - not when moving only seemed to fuel the fire in the pits of your uterus.

Once again, you turn to Minhyuk. Briefly, you consider waking him up and asking him to bring you the hot water bottle, and you even open your mouth to call him. But then, you pause, the words dying on your lips as your throat constricts. This scene is almost too familiar to you, and in the dark of your bedroom, you can’t stop your mind from wandering to the past.

Flashback - two years ago

Shifting uncomfortably, you’re woken from your sleep by the searing pain in your lower abdomen. Through the haze of your sleep, you let out quiet whimpers and continue shuffling in bed, trying to find a comfortable position to fall back asleep in. However, try as you might, you simply can’t seem to find one. This time, when you shift again, you feel Jungkook’s arm lazily wrap around you.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Jungkook asks while shuffling closer towards him. His words cause you to still, your shoulders relaxing as you feel his warm presence surround you. Your boyfriend moves his head to just over your shoulder, his hand sluggishly rubbing circles over your stomach. He nudges your t-shirt to the side - really, it’s his - and presses a tender kiss to the skin of your shoulder that he’s just exposed. Before you can even say anything, or alert him to exactly what is wrong, “do you have bad cramps again?” he sighs out. Despite your pain, you find your face softening, a soft smile curling on your lips at the sleepy tone of his voice.

“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t wanna wake you up,” you reply lowly. Jungkook only shakes his head, his long hair tickling the flesh of your collarbone.

“Tis okay,” Jungkook slurs sleepily. Then, before you can tell him to go back to sleep, Jungkook is already crawling out of bed. You hear a loud thud, followed by a pained groan, “I’m okay. I just- didn’t see the end of the bed,” Jungkook mumbles through the haziness of his sleep. Instantly, his words cause concern to well up in your chest, however, before you can ask him if he’s okay, he’s leaving your bedroom.

Left alone, you flick the lamp on your bedside table on and sit up in bed with a wince. You take in short, deep breath, trying your best to soothe the vengeful cramps in the pit of your stomach. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think your uterus was tying itself into knots. Another sharp sting and you let out a low whimper, doubling over in pain as you clutch your stomach.

Moments later, you feel a hand soothingly rub your lower back as your boyfriend - now more awake - crouches down beside your side of the bed. Large, doe eyes stare at you in concern as he passes you your hot water bottle. “Here you go, baby,” Jungkook says softly, placing the fuzzy bottle on your lower stomach. The warm heat instantly soothes your cramps, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you feel the pain begin to subside.

“Thank you,” you rasp out, but Jungkook only shakes his head. Then, he thrusts his hand and a glass in front of your face.

When you quirk your eyebrow at him, “painkillers,” Jungkook merely responds. Your face crumples, your heart speeding up in your chest. Gratefully, you accept the pills from him, popping them in your mouth before chugging down the glass of water. When you’re done, Jungkook takes the glass from your hand and places it back onto your bedside table. Once done, he helps you shift back down into a laying position as he tucks you into bed. Then, he crawls under the sheets himself.

You feel the left side of the bed shift before Jungkook slides in. Rolling closer to you, he presses his chest against your back while throwing an arm to rest loosely over your waist. Lazily, he rubs his hand over your hips, soothingly massaging the skin while pressing tender kisses to the back of your shoulder. “Are you feeling better?” Jungkook mumbles. His voice is low, heavy with sleep, and you can’t help but shudder as it reverberates through your eardrum.

“Mmm. Much better. Thank you,” you whisper back, more than grateful at his thoughtful gestures. If there was one thing you absolutely adored about Jungkook, it would be his utter thoughtfulness. More often than not, you just wouldn’t need to tell him what was wrong; after almost four years together, he could simply read you like a book. He knew what you wanted and when you wanted it. He knew when to leave you alone, or when to help you. He could read your moods as if he was well versed in all things that surrounded you. More than anything, however, Jungkook was simply empathetic towards you - and it made you fall for him all the more.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words easily falling from your lips. You feel Jungkook’s lips curl against your shoulder, an indolent smile playing at his lips.

Without even a moment of hesitation, “I love you too,” he mumbles back. Then, the two of you fall back into silence: with you clutching the hot water bottle to your uterus, and Jungkook genially rubbing circles into the flesh of your hips.

Another sharp pain ricochets through your uterus, pulling you out of your reverie. A low whimper escapes your throat and you shift in bed again. However, unlike Jungkook, Minhyuk stays fast asleep. Once again, you contemplate waking him up and you don’t want to, but the pain is almost too much. Before you can stop yourself, “Minhyuk?” you whimper out while gently shaking him.

Minhyuk lets out a groggy groan before, “what’s wrong, ____?” he asks, his voice heavily laden with sleep.

“C-can you go into the kitchen and get me my hot water bottle, please? I’ve got really bad cramps,” you whisper hoarsely. Minhyuk only groans in response.

“____… I’ve got to wake up for work in three hours. Can you not get it yourself?” Minhyuk asks sleepily. There’s no malice in his tone, nor upset or anger, just drowsy question - and you know he doesn’t mean anything by it - but still, you can’t help the way your stomach drops at his words. Biting your lip, you suck in a sharp breath, the movement making you whimper in pain again. Clearly, Minhyuk hears the sound escape your lips, because he’s sliding out of bed - albeit begrudgingly - and leaving your bedroom.

Five minutes later, he walks back and passes you the hot water bottle. With a small voice, you thank him, Minhyuk grunting in response. The right side of the mattress tilts and you feel Minhyuk slide back into bed. “Goodnight,” Minhyuk mumbles, though you can tell he’s already falling asleep again. Briefly, he pecks your cheek before turning his back towards you. Short moments later, his light snores fill the quiet air of the night, leaving you alone once again.

Chewing your lip, you place the hot water bottle onto your stomach, allowing the warm, soothing sensation to assuage the pain of your cramps. Your mind casts back to Jungkook, and the way he took care of you on nights like this, and then you turn to Minhyuk once again. You can still feel his lips on your cheek - from where he’d kissed you - but it’s not the same. Minhyuk is nice, and though reluctantly, he still got out of bed to get you your water bottle.

But it’s not the same.

It’s not the same when he kisses you on the cheek, or brings you your water bottle. It’s not the same when he buys you flowers, or takes you out to dinner. It’s not the same when he kisses you, or when you sleep together. It’s not the same, because while nice, all of his gestures are empty. There’s no love in them, no thoughtfulness, no passion. Minhyuk is nice - and he does things out of nicety - but he also does them out of obligation.

And it’s not the same.

Because there is no love in them.

Because he’s not Jungkook.

Because he won’t ever be.

A month and a half later, you find yourself nervously staring at the brass-gold number plates of your brother’s apartment. You haven’t seen Hoseok in a few months - well, nine months to be exact. Nine months on this day. Wow. It’s really been nine months since you broke up with Jungkook, huh? It definitely feels like it’s been longer. If anything, it feels like an eternity. Though, you suppose, it must, since you’d gone from spending almost every day with him to suddenly not seeing him. It had been hard, and multiple times, you’ve wondered if you should just go back - but you know you can’t. You’d broken up for reasons - serious reasons - reasons that had meant a lot to you.

All these months, you’ve tried avoiding him as best as you could. Anything and everything that was within your power, you had done: from avoiding all of your friends because they reminded you too much of him, to moving to a different part of the city just to avoid running into him by chance. It had been hard, and god had it hurt - stillhurts - but you knew you had to do it. But now, standing in front of your brother’s apartment, you know you can no longer run from him anymore. Today is Hoseok’s birthday - and you know he’d be heartbroken if you didn’t turn up.

But you also know Jungkook will be here - because there’s no way Hoseok hadn’t invited him.

Funnily enough, you’d met Jungkook because of Hoseok. The two of them had met at the swimming club in your university, and the two had gotten along well. At first, you’d been fearful of admitting to Hoseok that you were seeing Jungkook - but to your utter surprise, your older brother just hadn’t cared. He liked Jungkook and he trusted Jungkook to treat you right - and he had. For five years, Jungkook had been the best, sweetest, most perfect boyfriend anyone could have asked for. Until that day. That fateful day, nine months ago, when you’d walked out of his apartment - and consequently his life.

“____? You okay?” Minhyuk asks, waving his hand in front of your space. Pulled out of your thoughts, you stare at your boyfriend - though once again, you use the term loosely. Minhyuk stares at you in confusion before gesturing to the door. The very same door you’d been blankly staring at while reminiscing about your brother and boyfriend. Looking at Minhyuk, you can’t help the way your stomach tosses at the sight of him.

Momentarily, you wonder what Hoseok would say. Hoseok absolutely adored Jungkook - to the point where you’d find your brother cuddling with your boyfriend, or kissing his forehead. You shudder just thinking about it. That had been a funny day. One day, you’d decided to surprise your boyfriend by spontaneously turning up at his apartment. However, to your utter surprise, you’d turned up just to see your boyfriend and your brother snuggling while watching Netflix. Sure, it was a cute sight, and ordinarily, you would have been touched. If it weren’t for the fact that your brother was cuddling your boyfriend.

So yes, suffice to say the least, Hoseok absolutely loved Jungkook - and throughout your entire relationship, he’d completely rooted and supported the two of you. Even when you and Jungkook would fight, even when you’d drive each other crazy, Hoseok would speak to the both of you and calm you down and make you see reason. Reason being that you both loved each other. Which is why, dread settles in your stomach as you stare blankly at Minhyuk. Once again, you wonder what Hoseok would say. You know he knows that you’re seeing Minhyuk - your mother has to have told him.

But knowing and seeing are two different things and you have no idea how he’ll react to Minhyuk. You love your brother, you really, really do - but Hoseok has a bad habit of not being able to bite his tongue - and that paired with the fact that he absolutely loved Jungkook - and still does - has trepidation settling deep within your stomach. It doesn’t help that it’s so soon after you and Jungkook broke up either. Nor does it help that Hoseok already knows Minhyuk - he is the son of your mother’s friend after all. But you’re twenty-seven now and you’re not getting any younger and you have to move on with your life. Whether that be with Jungkook or not. Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely distraught that it turned out to be without your sweet boyfriend. Or well, ex-boyfriend, you remind yourself.

Once again, Minhyuk looks at you expectantly. Drawing in every ounce of courage you can muster, you take in a deep breath and then knock on your brother’s door. You don’t know how long it takes Hoseok to answer. Realistically, you know it’s only mere moments - but that doesn’t stop it feeling like an excruciating eternity.

The moment Hoseok’s door swings open, you’re met with the sight of your brother. Smiling shyly at him, you awkwardly wave, “Hey Hobi,” you greet. However, Hoseok isn’t looking at you. No, he’s looking at the taller man stood next to you. Shuffling from foot to foot, your gaze flits back and forth from your brother to Minhyuk. Minhyuk for the most of it, looks a little lost and unsure of himself or what to say. Oppositely, your brother simply stares at Minhyuk, looking him up and down, his face a picture of passiveness and his usually warm gaze completely guarded.

“H-Hobi?” you choke out, clearing your throat as you try to get your brother’s attention. Hoseok blinks for a minute and then turns to you.

Momentarily, he regards you with his passive gaze before his lips quirk, and then suddenly, he’s beaming and pulling you into a hug. “____! I’ve missed you!” you brother practically screams, and despite the slight wince as he almost bursts your eardrums, you find yourself letting out a breath of air you hadn’t even known you’d been holding. The minute your brother envelops you in his arms, you feel yourself getting choked up - you’d missed his warmth. You’d desperately craved his affection when you’d broken up with Jungkook, but you had no idea what to say to him - or even how to approach him.

“Come on in. It’s a pretty quiet thing. There’s booze and snacks in the kitchen just help yourself to it, music’s mainly in the living room if you just wanna chill but if you need somewhere more quiet, the balcony or spare bedroom are available. ____ will tell you where to hang up your coats,” Hoseok says, smiling at Minhyuk. You bite your lip at Hoseok’s tone - it may not be obvious to others, but you know your brother like the back of your hand, and you can see the stiffness in his smile, and the chilled politeness in his tone. “Let’s catch up later on, yeah?” Hoseok says, turning back to you. Stiffly, you nod at him, already knowing he wants to talk about Jungkook.

Both you and Minhyuk enter Hoseok’s apartment and you can’t help the dismay that streaks through you. Hoseok wasn’t kidding when he said it’s a pretty quiet affair. About twenty people are milling about, the low thrumming bass of Hoseok’s music vibrating through the air. It’s loud enough to be heard throughout the apartment; not enough to cause the neighbours to complain, but more than enough to not really be able to have a decent conversation with someone.

Scattered about the crowd are a few people you recognise - Namjoon: Hoseok’s best friend from high school, and of course, Seokjin and Yoongi - his other best friends from college. Momentarily, you spot Jimin and you find yourself reeling at the familiar face. He’d been Hoseok’s friend from dance school when your brother was still in middle school. Your eyes continue scanning over the crowd before you find yourself stopping.

A rush of heat courses through your veins, the rushing of blood resounding through your eardrums when you spot Kim Taehyung - Hoseok and Jungkook’s other friend from swim team. But it’s not Taehyung that has you stopping. No, it’s who he’s speaking to.

Jungkook.

Knees buckling at the mere sight of him, your face crumples with the weight of your emotions. It’s only been nine months, and yet he looks so different from the last day you’d seen him. His hair is much longer now - so long that it falls into his eyes and you watch how he flicks the soft strands of hair out of his face. The motion of his hair practically mesmerises you and you can’t find it in yourself to look away from him. With his smooth caramel skin, soft features and gently sloping lips, he has your heart constricting between your ribcage.

Then you spot it. The black leather jacket. The same one you’d gotten him as a birthday gift four years ago. It’s still preserved beautifully, not a single piece out of place. The leather still shines like it’s brand new, and it still sits on his body as well as it did the first time you gifted it to him. Taehyung says something and Jungkook laughs in response, and the moment that he does, you let out an inaudible gasp. His head falls back, his features twisting into an expression of pure joy while his bunny-esque teeth are put on display. He looks happy - carefree - and you can’t help the sting of nostalgia that spikes through you. The music is loud, and you can barely hear anything. But somehow, his laugh resounds in your ear: ingrained in the memory of your eardrums as it plays like a record, over and over, while you watch him.

“You wanna get a drink?” Minhyuk asks. Instantly, your world comes crashing around you, and you turn to your current paramour. Blinking owlishly, you stare at him in confusion. He’s awfully close to you - a mere hair’s breadth away from you and instinctively, you find yourself backing away. Minhyuk looks at you oddly, and with a sheepish look, you nod to him. You’d gladly accept something to drink - you know you’ll need it if you wanted to survive the night.

An hour later, you find yourself standing over the Seoul city skyline. Leant up against the glass railing of Hoseok’s balcony, you simply stare at the sunset painted across Seoul. The large skyscraper buildings obscure most of it, the artificial bright lights dimming the dusky colours of twilight - but you don’t mind so much. Even obscured by the towering modern glass buildings, the dark shades of amaranth, copper and violet vividly paint the sky enough for you to take it all in.

“You okay out here?” comes a soft voice but you don’t need to turn around to see who it is. You could recognise your brother’s voice in a heartbeat.

Humming non-committally, “fine. I just... needed some space, I guess,” you mumble out with a sigh. If you’re being completely honest, you wanted space from Minhyuk. The minute he noticed your gaze on Jungkook, something in him changed - he’d become a tad overbearing, not to mention that he hasn’t left you alone all night. His sudden attachment wouldn’t have been a problem - if it weren’t the fact that you’d been maudlin about seeing Jungkook again. Thus, while he was busy entertaining a small crowd of Hoseok’s friends, you’d slipped out from under his nose and isolated yourself onto the balcony.

A loud chorus of laughs rolls across the quiet balcony and you let out another sigh. Hoseok leans against the railing next to you as he faces his apartment. “Minhyuk seems to be doing well,” comes Hoseok’s casual voice.

Another sigh, “please don’t,” you whisper. You already know where Hoseok’s going with this. Turning his back to his apartment, Hoseok joins you in basking under the quickly setting sun.

“What happened? You never told me, and Jungkook… well, Jungkook refuses to talk about it. To talk about you,” Hoseok sighs. Through your peripheral vision, you note the almost defeated look in Hoseok’s eyes. Heart clenching at his words, you grip your beer can tighter while staring dully into the distance. You don’t blame Jungkook for not talking about you - you haven’t spoken about him either. Sure, you think about him. Every. Single. Day. But thinking about him and speaking about him are two different things - the latter of which is far too painful.

When you don’t respond to his question, Hoseok simply sighs. “Okay fine, we don’t have to talk about that. But-” he begins.

Before he can continue, however, you turn and look at him, “Hobi, can we just not speak about this?” you ask quietly. Your brother looks at you pointedly, his eyes scrutinising you. With your slumped shoulders and the desperation in your eyes, Hoseok finds his eyes softening. Instantly, he wraps his arms around you, pressing your head to his chest. Automatically, you own arms wrap around him and you bask in your brother’s comforting embrace.

“You still love him,” Hoseok breathes out. There’s not a single hint of accusation in his tone, just plain understanding. More than that, it’s not a question; it’s a statement. One that has your fists curling tighter into his shirt, your shoulders tensing. You wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t say anything else. Rather, he just holds you, letting you seek as much solace as you need from his hold. Frozen in his hug, you breathe deeply as you try to hold yourself together.

Eventually, you find the strength to pull away. Hoseok looks at you with gentle eyes. “Are you happy, at least? With Minhyuk?” Hoseok asks. Opening your mouth, you move to reply, but find yourself stopping. Eyebrows furrowed, your face contorts marginally as you consider Hoseok’s question. Are you happy? Honestly? You have no idea. You haven’t felt any real happiness since you walked out on Jungkook - but you’d chalked it up to the fact that you were still getting over him.

Hesitancy evident in every fibre of your being, Hoseok looks at you pointedly. “Alright. You don’t have to reply because I already know the answer to that,” Hoseok  sighs. He pauses for a moment, and you can see the uncertainty in his eyes. Yet, he continues anyway, “I know mom pushed you towards Minhyuk,” Hoseok begins, causing your eyes to widen. You open your mouth to reply, however, he cuts you off once again, “But I trust you to do the right thing. Not for anyone, but for yourself. You’re strong, ____, but you’re also smart. Smart enough to know what you want,” Hoseok finishes. Before you can reply to him, however, you hear the balcony doors sliding open.

The two of you turn around to the newcomer, your heart fluttering when you see Jungkook. “Oh. Sorry, I’ll leave,” Jungkook quickly says, already turning around. Abruptly, however, Hoseok walks up to Jungkook before clapping him on the back.

“Nah it’s okay. I was just heading inside. You can keep ____ company if you want,” Hoseok says brightly. Internally, you despair at your brother’s words. What the fuck was he thinking? Nonetheless, before either of you can say anything, Hoseok disappears back into his apartment, consequently leaving you and Jungkook alone.

Jungkook turns to you nervously, and you can practically feel the hesitancy exuding off of him in thick waves. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you send him an awkward smile before gesturing for him to join you. Jungkook looks at you in a mix of worry and trepidation, but ultimately, takes Hoseok’s space beside you. The two of you stand in silence, facing the Seoul city skyline as you stare at nothing. Frazzled by his presence, you internally grasp for something to say, anything to break the thick awkward tension that surrounds the two of you.

Then, all of a sudden: “How have you been?”, “So, what’s up?”, you and Jungkook ask at the same time. You stare at each other in surprise for a couple of moments. Then, all of a sudden, you both burst out laughing.

“God, this is so weird,” Jungkook says, running a hand through his hair. Biting your lip, you nod in agreement before turning back to look at the cityscape.

With the tension broken, “so, how have you been?” you find yourself asking. From the corner of your eye, you notice Jungkook shrug listlessly.

“I’ve been… okay, I guess. How about you?”

“Fine. Alright. I guess,” you reply, mirroring his previous sentiment. They’re simple niceties - and you both know there’s a hint of deception in both your words - but neither of you says anything about it. Once again, the two of you fall into silence. Though, this time, the atmosphere isn’t thick with floundering awkwardness. Rather, it’s thick with confusion and uncertainty. Where do you go from here? What do you even say to your ex-boyfriend - one you still have feelings for?

Deciding to take a chance, “how’s work? I saw that your company released a new game,” you finally say. Jungkook’s head snaps towards you, his eyebrow rising at your question.

“You keep up to date with my company?” he asks. The incredulity in his voice surprises you and you look at him pointedly.

“Of course I do. That company means a big deal to you,” you reply easily. Despite the situation, Jungkook finds himself chuckling, even as his heart constraints at the thought of you checking up on him - even if it’s from afar.

“Yeah. It’s doing really well. Made me a lot of money. How about you? Dohyun from your department still being an ass because you’re the one who got promoted or?” Jungkook questions casually, causing you to laugh.

“Ah, man. Gotta love Dohyun. No, yeah. He’s still being an ass - but at least he doesn’t openly question my authority anymore,” you reply with an easy smile. Then, “actually, I have you to thank for that,” you softly say.

Jungkook looks at you in surprise, “me?”

Nodding, “yeah. I took your advice and threatened to fire him if he ever publicly undermined me again. That shut him up pretty quickly,” you chuckle. Jungkook snorts, the two of you laughing.

“Good! He deserves it. I know he has a problem working under a woman, but man, you deserved that promotion. You were far better qualified than him,” Jungkook compliments. Ducking shyly, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears before smiling gently at him.

“Thanks. It means a lot,” you mumble under your breath, making Jungkook shake his head.

“No. ____, I’m serious. No one deserved it more than you. You worked so hard for it. There were days I was even worried about the stress you were under because you’d forget to eat, or you wouldn’t sleep. But I guess it was worth it in the end, because you got the promotion,” Jungkook responds. Then, he pauses, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips, “even if it meant there were days you’d ignore me,” Jungkook sighs dramatically. That causes you to snort, and before you can stop yourself, you playfully smack his arm.

“Hey! I gave you lots of attention. Or did you forget that time when I skipped work just so we could play hooky and go snowboarding?” you ask. Jungkook bites his lips, a tinkling giggle escaping his lips at the memory.

“Oh, that was good. You were terrible, and you fell so much I was worried you’d break something,” Jungkook reminisces, a soft sigh following his words.

Giggling to yourself, “Yeah, well we can’t all just pick up a sport and instinctively be good at them,” you snort in response.

“You’re right. Really, it’s a curse being perfect at everything,” Jungkook nods sagely in agreement. Jaw dropping, you look at him in amazement before the two of you burst out laughing.

Suddenly, a new voice breaks “What’s going on here?”

Turning around, you freeze at the sight of Minhyuk. Alternating between looking at you and Jungkook, Minhyuk’s face is a picture of passiveness, his lips set in a thin, grim line. At the sight of Minhyuk, you sense Jungkook deflate, the easy atmosphere once again thickening with tension.

“Minhyuk… this is-” you begin, ready to introduce the two. However, Minhyuk snorts.

“Yes. This is Jungkook, your ex-boyfriend. I know. Which begs the question, why are you alone out here with your ex while I’m inside?” Minhyuk asks. You reel at the accusatory tone in his voice as you double-take.

“Excuse me? We’re just out here speaking,” you exclaim and once again, Minhyuk snorts.

“It looked a little more than that,” he points out. Jaw dropping in bewilderment, you scoff at him, your eyes narrowing into thin slits.

“Uh, I think I should leave the two of you alone,” Jungkook says quietly as he begins making his way towards the balcony door.

Seeing him walk away breaks your heart, and you want to tell him to stay. Nevertheless, you know you have no right to. Not now anyway, when you have bigger problems at hand. Bigger problems namely being Minhyuk. “What’s your problem?” you ask, directing your attention to your boyfriend.

“My problem is that despite the fact that you’re going to be marrying me, you’re out here with the ex that you were seeing for five years. How do you think that makes me look?” Minhyuk argues back. At Minhyuk’s words, Jungkook finds his blood freezing as he’s brought to an abrupt halt - just before he can escape the balcony. You, yourself, are at a loss of something to say.

“We’ve barely been seeing each other for two months! Why are you bringing that up now?” you cry in astonishment. Really, where had the come from?

“But isn’t that why our mother’s set us up? Because we’re both looking to get married? Isn’t that where this is supposed to be going? Yet, here you are. With your ex-boyfriend. Who you’ve paid more attention to than me this entire night, by the way,” Minhyuk points out. Spluttering at his words, your cheeks heat as you know you’ve been caught. The hairs on your arms stand erect, and immediately, you know that Jungkook is staring at you - but you refuse to look at him. You don’t want to see the expression on his face right now.

Instead, you decide to keep your attention directly on Minhyuk, “yes, this is where it’s supposed to be going, but-” you reply, only for Minhyuk to cut you off once again.

“But nothing. I like you, a lot. And I know we’ve only known each other two months, but I can see us having a life together. Is that not what you want? Isn’t that the reason we’re together in the first place? Do you not want to marry me? Say you’ll marry me and I’ll drop this right now,” Minhyuk finally says, his previous anger and insecurity at seeing you and Jungkook together dissipating. He levels you with his sincere gaze, the unanswered ultimatum heavy in the air.

Unable to help yourself any longer, you momentarily shift your gaze to Jungkook. It’s brief - barely a second - but it’s all you need. The utter look of despair is clearly evident on his face, a mixture of heartbreak and anguish painted so very clearly across his features. It reminds you of the day you’d broken up with him; reminds you of how he’d looked when you’d walked out on him.

Flashback - nine months ago

One lazy Sunday, you find yourself in the apartment you share with your boyfriend. The two of you are sprawled on the couch, barely dressed: Jungkook with only his boxers and socks, and you in his large t-shirt and panties. You’d both considered getting dressed, but had decided against it - especially since neither of you had any plans to leave the house. Hence, you find yourself pressed against Jungkook, your back comfortably flush against his strong chest, your head easily finding the perfect resting spot in the crook where his collarbone meets his neck.

Absentmindedly, Jungkook plays with the hem of your underwear, fiddling with elasticated lace as you scroll through Netflix. The film titles pass in a blur as you look for something to watch. Catching the attention of one title, you can't help but fixate on it for a bit. "Kook?" you call out to your boyfriend softly. You angle your head to look up at him while shifting your head onto his shoulder, so you can see him clearly. Jungkook hums non-committally as he glances at you from the corner of his eyes.

"What's up, sweetheart? Wait- if this is just to ask me if we can watch Zootropolis again, you know my answer is always yes," Jungkook says, his eyes twinkling in excitement. A light giggle escapes your lips but you shake your head.

"No. I just- we've been together five years now, yes?" you ask, turning your head back to stare at the TV. Jungkook's eyebrows furrow slightly, and he moves his head so he can better look at you.

"Yes? What about it?"

"Well-" you begin. Briefly you pause, worrying your lower lip, "do you think we'll get married?" you breathe out. Jungkook stills, the hand that had been mindlessly playing with the lace material of your underwear coming to a halt.

"What?" he asks, his chest rumbling under you.

"Well, have you thought about us getting married? Like, we've been together a while now, but I don't think we've ever really spoken about it," you sigh out. Ideally, you wanted to marry Jungkook - because, after five years, you're sure he's the one for you.

"Honestly?" Jungkook asks. Anxiousness pools in the pits of your stomach as you hear the slight trepidation in his voice. It's barely there - but you know Jungkook well enough to spot the tell-tale sign of his worriment.

"Honestly," you reiterate his statement, letting him know you want nothing but the truth.

Jungkook sighs, "honestly, I've never really thought about it," he breathes out. Immediately, you jerk, sitting up as you twist to look at him. Shifting so you're in a more comfortable position, you sit on his stomach, your thighs straddling his waist. Instinctively, Jungkook's hands fall onto your thighs. You look at him in a mixture of shock and disbelief, Jungkook returning his own expectant gaze.

"You've never thought about us getting married?" you sputter out, completely baffled by his words. How has he not thought about it? You've been together five years now. That's an awfully long time - surely, he's thought about it at some point. Not to mention, you're both twenty-seven now, almost thirty. So how has he not thought about it? You know you have. In fact, you dream about the day you walk down the aisle, Jungkook on the other side. Hell, you dream about a life with him; a family - because you know he's all you want.

"Sweetheart-" Jungkook starts, and you look pointedly at him, "listen- it's nothing to do with you. It's just, we're still young. I do love you, you know that, but I just never really thought about it," he continues. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you cock your head in question.

"Never?" you enquire. Jungkook simply shrugging.

"Not really," comes his simple reply.

“How?” you question, looking at him in confusion. Distinctly, you remember having light conversations with Jungkook. Conversations where you’d joke about being married, conversations about your wedding or your future together.

“What do you mean how?” Jungkook asks dumbly, causing you to frown.

“I mean- I know we’ve joked about it before. I’ve mentioned wanting to get married before, I know I have,” you point out.

“Yeah… but I thought you were joking and other than that, I’ve never seriously thought about it,” Jungkook says casually. You suck in a sharp breath at his words. He hadn’t ever seriously considered it? Fear settles in your stomach at his words. You’d always just assumed you and Jungkook would eventually get married - but he hadn’t ever seriously thought about it?

"Well... do you want to get married?" you ask plainly. Jungkook smirks at you, the corners of his lips twisting into a teasing, lop-sided smile.

"Are you asking?" he jokes. However, you're in no mood to play games. This is important to you - because your boyfriend of five years just admitted that he hadn't ever considered a future with the two of you together.

"Jungkook, I'm being serious," you say - your voice is soft, yet firm. Sensing the seriousness to your tone, the smile on Jungkook's face falls and he sits up. His movement displaces you from his stomach, and you find yourself moving to sit on the couch while looking at him expressionlessly.

"____, I don't know. As I said, I've never really thought about it," Jungkook reiterates.

"Well think about it now! Do you want to get married or no?" you ask, anxiousness bubbling in your veins. This conversation certainly hasn't gone the way you had expected it to. When you'd first asked Jungkook, it had just been an off-handed question, because really, why wouldn't he have thought about getting married. Now? You're not so sure.

"I- I don't know," Jungkook mutters. Face falling in despair, you get up off of the couch and walk into your bedroom. What did he mean he didn't know? Five years. You've been together five years, and he still doesn't know? Without a second thought, Jungkook follows you into your bedroom, watching in confusion as you begin getting dressed.

"Sweetheart? Are you mad at me?" he asks, causing you to snort derisively.

"Are you really asking me that right now?" you snap in response. Jungkook reels back at the irritation in your voice.

"Why? Because I said I don't know if I want to get married? Why is that a problem? I still love you- you know that," your boyfriend argues.

"The problem isn't that you love me Jungkook. It's that you just admitted you haven't thought about our future together," you cry back. Sensing your upset, Jungkook quickly walks up to you. He places his hands on your arms, gently rubbing up and down as he cooes gently at you.

"Baby, that's not what I meant. It's just, we're still young you know? And it's not like we have to get married to each other to prove anything. I love you, and you love me, isn't that enough?" Jungkook asks softly, trying his best to placate you. Tears forming in your eyes, you shake your head and push his hands away.

"But I want to get married Jungkook. But you don't even know if you want to get married," you reply back, your bottom lip quivering. You take in a deep breath in an attempt to hold yourself together.

"But I could... maybe," Jungkook replies. Though, you both hear the clear uncertainty in his voice. His words, paired with his tone, only has your heart breaking.

"Do you? It doesn't have to be now, but do you see us getting married? A simple yes or no. That's all I'm asking for," you breathe out.

Through tear-filled eyes, you watch your boyfriend contemplate your question. One minute passes. Then two. But he's no closer to giving you your answer. With every second that passes, your anguish grows into grief-stricken distress. Multiple times, Jungkook opens and closes his mouth, and each time, hope blooms in your chest, only to die when he closes his mouth. Long, excruciating moments pass, and you all but abandon hope, when finally he says something.

"I don't know," Jungkook replies. The very moment his words ring in your ears, that small inkling of hope within your chest in crushes. A sob escapes your lips and you feel your knees buckle. Distress painted on Jungkook's face, he reaches out to comfort you, but you back away from him, causing your boyfriend to flinch.

"Will you ever know?" you whisper hopelessly.

"I don't know," comes Jungkook's answer once again.

"Then I don't know if I can do this," you whisper back. Jungkook's head snaps up to you, his eyes wide as he looks at you in disbelief.

"What? What do you mean?" he chokes out, barely able to get the words out. Throat constricting, you swallow thickly as you choke back a sob.

"I don't know if I can still do this. Jungkook, I want to get married. I want to marry you. I dream about walking down the aisle to you, I dream about children - our children. I dream about a life with you. But you-" you stop as your voice cracks with emotion. Taking a deep breath, you pull yourself together once again, "but you don't know if you even want to get married and that... that just tells me you haven't thought about our future together," you finally manage to say, your voice strained.

"We're still young. We have so much time to think about that," Jungkook argues, causing you to shake your head.

"We're twenty-seven Jungkook. We've been together for five years. That's a long time, so why haven't you ever considered us getting married? Not even moments ago you admitted that you've never thought about it. How do you think that makes me feel?" you cry.

"I don't know! It wasn't on my mind. I think about you but I- I just don't know if I want to get married. Why is that a big deal?" Jungkook asks, even as anguish colours his veins at the sight of your heartbreak.

"It's a big deal to me! It's a big deal because like I said, that's what I want!" you practically yell. Taking another deep breath, you sniffle, "I don't think I can do this," you repeat once again. Again, your voice cracks, but Jungkook despairs at the resolution in it.

"What are you saying?" he chokes out, not wanting to believe it. You can't mean it. You can't be saying what he thinks you're saying.

"I'm saying- I'm saying we should break up," you finally say. You practically have to force the words out of your mouth - because, despite everything, every fibre of your being is still in love with Jungkook - still wants to be with Jungkook. But this isn't something you think you can compromise on.

"No," Jungkook blurts out. "N-no. Please, no," he practically begs. Once again he steps up to you, and once again, you step away from him - desperately needing the distance between you. "W-why? Why can't we wait until I know? Please, why can't we wait until I'm ready?" Jungkook pleads. Sucking in a deep breath, you shake your head as you look away. You want to. You desperately want to take his word for it, want to fall into his arms and forget this conversation. But you just can't.

"I c-can't," you express, "because what if we continue for another two, or three or five years, only for you to tell me you still don't want to get married? I don't want to start all over again in my thirties, Jungkook. I don't want to be in love with your a few more years, only for you to eventually decide you still don't want to get married," you reply softly.

"But we don't know if that'll happen!" Jungkook tries arguing and this time, you turn to him. Jungkook freezes at your face, the resolute sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. His heart constricts in his chest as he sees unwavering stubbornness, mixed with heartache and sorrow, in your eyes.

"Exactly Jungkook. We don't know. If you don't know now, after five years of being together, I don't know if you'll know in another few years. And I can't take that chance," you finally utter.

"____, please don't do this. I love you," Jungkook sobs brokenly. Unable to look him in the eyes anymore - unable to stand the utter devastation written on his face - you look away.

"I'm sorry," you whisper softly.

And then, you walk away.

By the time you’re drawn out of your reverie, Jungkook is long gone. In his stead, stands Minhyuk, who looks at you expectantly. ‘Say you’ll marry me.’ Minhyuk’s voice once again rings through your head and you can’t help but feel queasy at the statement. You had broken up with Jungkook because you wanted to get married - and you do. But, is Minhyuk who you want to marry? As harsh as it is, marrying Minhyuk feels like… you’re settling - and that doesn’t sit well with you. But what do you do now? What if this was your only chance? You’re twenty-seven now and you hadn’t lied to Jungkook when you said you didn’t want to wait another five years only for things to fall apart if he decided he still didn’t want to get married.

But this doesn’t feel right.

You and Minhyuk stare at each other, Minhyuk patiently waiting for your answer. Except, you have no idea what you want to say. Your skin flushes with heat and you feel panic set into your bones while your stomach flips. Blood rushes through your ears, the sound drowning out everything else as you simply stare at Minhyuk. Though, you’re not really looking at him. No, because even now, with Minhyuk standing in front of you and Jungkook long gone, there’s only one person on your mind.

The same person who’s been on your mind the entire night.

Abruptly, Hoseok’s words ring through your head. ‘You’re strong - but you’re also smart. Smart enough to know what you want.’ Your brother’s voice plays over and over in your head - like a broken vinyl - until it’s all you can hear. Then, a spark of epiphany courses through your head, and the dawning of revelation washes over you.

You do know what you want - more than anything.

And you know what you have to do now.

It's almost two in the morning when Jungkook finds himself outside of your apartment. He doesn't know how long he's sat there, back against the wall and knees up to his chest as he stares at your flat door. After he'd left Hoseok's apartment, he found his feet walking to a bar, and after about an hour of drinking, he'd walked home. Well, he'd meant to walk home. But, somehow, in his tipsy-fogged mind, he'd automatically walked to your building and then up to your flat. A while after that, he'd just sat outside your door, contemplating whether he should knock or not. The largest part of him desperately wanted to knock - and multiple times, fueled by the courage of the alcohol - he almost had. However, each time, the smaller part of him would stop himself, unable to actually follow through. What if you'd said yes to Minhyuk? What if you didn't want to see him? What if you're with Minhyuk? Jungkook doesn't know what he'd do if he knocks, only to find Minhyuk on the other side of the door.

Head repeatedly banging against the wall behind him, Jungkook stares at the gold plated numbers of your door. With every second that passes, the alcohol in his system slowly fades away and Jungkook finds himself sobering. But still, he doesn't leave. He can't bring himself to get up and walk away. It's late enough that sleep should begin fogging his mind, but again, not knowing whether you said yes or no to Minhyuk would eat away at him - and he knows he'd be restless and unable to sleep until he finds out. Yet, he just cannot bring himself to knock. So, instead, he just sits outside your apartment. Waiting for something. Anything.

For you.

Another hour passes and you still don't come. Jungkook lets out a shuddering breath, his head falling into his hands. Mentally, he draws up a pros and cons list of knocking - and yet, each time, he scraps them all. Even with all the cons: you could be engaged to Minhyuk, you could be with Minhyuk, you could be moving on with Minhyuk; Jungkook can't help but consider the pros: you could have said no, you could be alone, you could be waiting for him. It's that last one that he dreads. There's a small chance you couldbe waiting for him and that has hope flaring in his chest. But in this situation, hope is the most crushing thing in existence - because it's only a small chance - and his hope could be crushed the minute you answer the door.

A part of him believes you had to have said to yes - you just had to have - because that's what you wanted, wasn't it? You wanted to get married. So, what reason would you have to say no? But that small, niggling voice in Jungkook head won't stop speaking - won't stop telling him that he's a reason you would have said no. Nevertheless, Jungkook knows that voice comes from his hope - and as he's mentioned - hope is the worst thing he has right now.

"You can't keep doing this, Jungkook. It's been nine months. You should move on- like she is," Jungkook mutters to himself out loud. He has no doubt that if anyone sees him, they'd think he was some sort of crazy person, but Jungkook also doesn't care. Over and over, he repeats the sentences to himself and eventually, he gets up, ready to leave.

But then he stops.

Turning back to your door, he takes in a shuddering breath, and before he can stop himself - or even rethink his spontaneous decision - he finds himself knocking. Because he desperately needs to know if he's lost you once and for all. Then, he waits again.

And still waits.

Time moves excruciatingly slowly - the seconds agonisingly passing away. Momentarily, Jungkook considers knocking again - maybe you're asleep, maybe you didn't hear him. But the adrenaline-induced courage has long since faded after he knocked, and once again he finds himself turning away.

However, then, he hears it: the clinking of a chain.

The door creaks open slowly, Jungkook sucking in a sharp breath as he spots you. You're dressed in a large hoodie - and hope flares in his chest as he recognises it. It's hishoodie. He thought he'd misplaced it a while ago - but no, apparently it was just with you. But why? Why hadn't you returned it to him?

As soon as the door is wide open, you stare in disbelief at the sight in front of you. Rubbing your blood-shot eyes, your mouth drops slightly as you realise you're not imagining it. Jungkook is standing in front of you. Why is Jungkook standing in front of you?

"J-Jungkook?" you stutter out, bewilderment heavy in your voice.

"I'm sorry," Jungkook blurts out. Taken aback by his sudden apology, your eyebrow furrows.

"W-What? Why are you sorry?" you ask, unsure of what's happening. You'd just been crying in bed - desperately wishing for Jungkook - so, when you'd opened your door only to see him, you'd thought you were dreaming. And now? Well, now you're just confused. What does he have to be sorry about?

"I made a mistake. You were right- I didn't- I never thought about our future together. I never considered getting married, or whether we'd have a family together and it's because I was comfortable. I grew comfortable in our relationship and I took it for granted. I took you for granted," Jungkook breathes out. His words fall so quickly from his lips, he practically rambles, and you really have to strain to understand his words. "After five years together, I just got so used to us. I thought I'd always have you, and so, marriage or a family didn't even cross my mind - but it should have. I should have thought about our future together. I'm sorry that I didn't, and I'm sorry that I thought about it too late," Jungkook continues. Once again, he pauses, taking a deep breath as he thinks about what to say next. But if he's being honest, he doesn't really know what else to say.

Shoulders deflating, Jungkook runs a weary hand through his hair, and suddenly, he looks more harried than you've seen him in a long time. "I'm just- I'm sorry I didn't think about it back then. I'm just sorry," Jungkook finishes lamely. There's more on the tip of his tongue: I miss you, I want you, I love you; but he can't bring himself to say them. Not when you could be happy with Minhyuk. He can't do that to you - he'd broken your heart that day - when he'd openly admitted he'd never thought about a future with you - and now, you have a chance with someone else. And he can't take that away from you, even if it breaks his heart to let you go. Left reeling by his words, they play over and over in your mind, and it takes all your brainpower to reallyunderstand them - but in your stunned daze, you don't say anything - and Jungkook doesn't know what to make of it.

So, instead, "I guess, that's what I wanted to say. I- I hope you're happy with Minhyuk," he chokes out. Sluggishly, you realise that Jungkook is walking away - and that's all it takes to restart your brain.

"W-what if I'm not happy? What would you do if I wasn't happy?" you rasp, your voice straining. Jungkook freezes at your words, his blood running cold. Then, he whips around so quickly, you fear he'd get whiplash. However, Jungkook doesn't care. Rather, his eyes swiftly rake over your face, searching for something, anything to confirm what'd he'd just heard. He finds it in your eyes; in the way they silently beg him to continue, plead with him to say everything on his mind.

Helpless under your imploring gaze, Jungkook finds his tongue unravelling as he lays his feelings at your feet. "I'd ask for a second chance. A chance to make you happy and give you what you want," Jungkook breathes out. Your eyes widen in the slightest at his proclamation.

Is he saying what you think he is?

Incredulity painted as clear as day on your face and sliver of hope evident in your eyes, Jungkook's face softens slightly. He wasn't lying - when Minhyuk had proposed the ultimatum, Jungkook had felt his heartbreak - and when he'd sat in the bar, all he could think about was you. More importantly, all he could think about was the missed opportunity. He imagined what you'd look like on your wedding day. How happy would you be? Would you look as radiantly beautiful as he imaged you to be? Would you smile in that carefree, captivating way that you did? But then, he grew maudlin - because he realised that if you did, it wouldn't be for him - and that broke his heart. It broke his heart to imagine you marrying someone that wasn't him, smiling for someone who wasn't him, creating a family with someone that wasn't him.

Nothing but sincerity in his voice, Jungkook continues, "I'd ask for you to take me back and to marry you. Because that's what I want - as long as it's with you," Jungkook finishes.

Throat clogged up with the heavy weight of your emotions, you swallow thickly, "then ask," you choke out. Your words are simple - and practically inaudible - but in the stillness of the empty corridor, and the quiet of the night, Jungkook hears it as clear as day.

"But- But what about Minhyuk?" Jungkook asks, unsure about whether he should or not. Hope flares in his chest at your words - but he doesn't want to believe them. Not yet, at least.

"Ask anyway," you simply say.

"Will you-" Jungkook begins, but the instant he opens his mouth, you're cutting him off.

"Yes," you reply - not even waiting for him to finish. It doesn't matter what he said. It doesn't matter if the words to follow are 'give me a second chance' or 'marry me' because all that matters is that he's back. All that matters is that he's willing to think about your future together - and right now, that's enough for you.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say-mpf," Jungkook begins, only to be stopped short when you pull him in for a kiss.

The instant his lips touch yours, you feel your entire body become electrified. Your veins are set afire with love, Jungkook's soft lips pressed against yours in a sweet kiss. Instinctively, Jungkook's arms wrap around your waist, his hands pulling your body flush against his as he feels you for the first time in months. You taste the same as you always have - temptingly sweet - and your body against his feels exquisite: your curves and contours fitting perfectly against his body. Sinking into this kiss, and consequently Jungkook, you sigh against his lips while you let your hands wander across his broad shoulder, before carding them into his hair.

Brief moments later, Jungkook breaks off your kiss; his forehead falling to rest against yours as he stares deeply into your eyes. His hands move to cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek tenderly as he lazily peppers soft kisses against your lips. Despite the softness of the moment, Jungkook can't stop wondering about Minhyuk - a sentiment he expresses to you in concern.

"I couldn't do it. I couldn't say yes," you reply, your eyes holding nothing but the truth. Jungkook's eyebrows knit together, and you find yourself giggling at the adorable expression. After a light peck against his lips, you move to rest your head against his chest, your eyes slipping shut as you feel his steady heartbeat under your ear. "I couldn't do it, because even then, you were all I could think about. I thought I wanted to get married, and I did - I do - but I realised, I didn't want to marry just anyone. I wanted to marry you," you confess. Jungkook's heart soars in his chest and helpless under your spell, he finds himself pulling you in for another kiss.

However, this time, it's different. This time, your kiss isn't slow, or soft. No, it's needier - Jungkook’s pouring out his entire heart into your kiss as he bruises his lips against you. Gasping against his lips, your fists clench around Jungkook’s leather jacket - using the material to pull him closer into you. You pull away from Jungkook’s lips, breathing heavily against his lips as you stare up at him through the thick of your eyelashes.

“Do you want to come in?” you breathily ask. Jungkook pauses for a moment.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to-” he begins refuting. However, you’re already pressing kisses against his jaw - lightly nipping the sensitive spot just above his Adam’s apple.

“I’m sure. I’ve missed you,” you rasp out, your voice coming out breathier than you anticipated. Jungkook’s eyes dilate at your words, and before you know what’s happening, he’s leading you into your apartment.

The both of you barely make it into your apartment, before Jungkook is slamming the door shut and pushing you up against the hard wood. Caging you between his arms, Jungkook’s lips fall upon yours again, his lips moving in a frenzied fashion this time. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer into you. Jungkook lets out a soft growl against your lips before pulling away. Peppering kisses along your jaw, he trails down the column of your throat before nuzzling his face into the juncture of your shoulder.

“God- I’ve missed you,” Jungkook whispers as he breathes in your calming scent. Own hands threading into his hair, you lazily play with the locks at the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too. A lot,” you moan out as Jungkook begins to suckle bruises onto the tender flesh of your throat.

“Is that why you’re wearing my hoodie?” Jungkook asks, curiosity winning out on him. Not that you don’t look good in it - in fact, seeing you dressed in his clothing is one of Jungkook’s favourite things.

“Maybe,” you reply coyly, “what are you going to do about it?” you continue. Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath at the teasing lilt to your voice and immediately, drops to his knees. You jerk at the sudden movement, your eyes widening marginally at the sight of Jungkook on his knees.

“If this was any other time, I’d teach you a lesson. But right now, I’ve missed you too much, and you look good enough to eat,” Jungkook groans out as he runs his nose along the exposed flesh of your inner thigh. Your breath hitches at his words, Jungkook’s large hands slowly wrapping around your thighs before he parts your legs. Tenderly, his hands run up the back of your thighs, and gripping the flesh of your ass, he pulls your hips further into him.

Running his nose against the cotton of your panties, Jungkook takes in a deep breath before groaning as the heady scent of your arousal runs through his nose. He pushes his hoodie further up your hips, his lips gently tracing his way up the length of your thigh. Positioned just over your hip, Jungkook places a tender kiss above where your bone is. Then, he bites down on the waistband of your panties before slowly sliding it down your legs. When he gets to the crooks of your thighs, he lets go of it, letting the material drop to the floor.

You step out of your underwear and spread your legs - making more room for Jungkook. Gripping one of your thighs, he pulls it to rest over his shoulder, exposing your pussy to his gaze. Dark, lust-filled eyes rove over your folds, Jungkook shuddering as the scent of your arousal deepens. Your sex is slightly dewy, glistening in the low lighting of your living room. Biting his lip, Jungkook edges closer to your folds before tentatively licking a line: all the way from your core to your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you groan out, your head lolling back while one of your hands shoots out to tangle into his thick hair. Hearing your low groan, Jungkook smirks against your pussy before repeating the action. Spikes of pleasure run up and down your spine, your eyelids fluttering as you lose yourself into the pleasure he brings upon your body.

Moving one hand, Jungkook presses two fingers against the petals of your sex before parting his digits in a ‘V’ shape and consequently your folds. With your pussy exposed, Jungkook once again licks a thick line from your dripping, honeyed entrance, all the way to your engorged bud. He licks harder this time, his tongue lapping in a broad line as he gathers your heady essence onto his tongue. Your arousal bathes his tastebuds, and with his nose pressed against the hood of your clit - all he can taste, all he can breathe is you.

Soft lips wrap around your clit, Jungkook pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth before lightly suckling on it. His ministrations cause you to gasp - the sound quickly morphing into a heavy moan when his nips your throbbing clit. Tangling your fingers further into his hair, you slowly undulate your hips, pushing them further into Jungkook as you tug on his hair, trying to get him to move fast.

Sensing the urgency in your movements, Jungkook rakes his teeth over your clit in warning once again. Then, breaking away with a pop, “Be patient, darling,” Jungkook breathes out. The lusty fog of your desire rolls thickly into your head, clouding your mind and setting your flesh aflame with want and through your wanton need, you barely hear Jungkook’s words. Instead, the feel of Jungkook’s warm breath wafting over your wet folds has you shuddering in pleasure.

“Kook,” you whine needily, desperation heavy in the high pitch of your voice.

With his face buried between your thighs, you can’t see his face. But you don’t have to. You can feel the smirk on his lips. Not that you really care - because he’s currently swirling his tongue around your clit tantalisingly and subsequently driving you to the brink of insanity. Lightly, he moves the two fingers that have you spread open. You shudder at the featherlight touch, feeling him softly ghost his fingertips over the outline of your folds before circling your entrance. His touch has your core clenching, your pussy walls fluttering around his fingertips.

“Fuck- I forgot how fucking sensitive your pussy is,” Jungkook moans against your clit. His words are slightly muffled, and the vibration of his voice shoots straight from your clit to the pits of your belly. Loins heating with pleasure, you feel your stomach twist and knot as Jungkook laps kittenish licks against your clit. Teasingly, Jungkook continues circling his fingertip against your entrance, feeling the way strings of your sticky wetness drip out of you before they cling to his digit.

Drawing away from your clit, Jungkook slowly pulls his finger away; his throat drying as he watches the thin, filmy strings of your arousal drip from your pussy and onto his finger. The thick rivulets stretch as he pulls away - and the moment one of them snaps - Jungkook is unable to stop himself from pressing his head back between your thighs. Tongue plunging into your core, his swirls his wet appendage around your cunt, groaning as thick streams of arousal drip onto his tongue.

“Oh fuck- Kook,” you mewl, your head falling back and hitting the door with a light thud. The pain barely registers in your mind, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as your pussy flutters around his tongue. Helpless against your needy whine, Jungkook pushes two fingers into your depths, your body jerking at the sudden intrusion as you tug at his hair reflexively. Twisting his fingers into you, Jungkook pumps his digits in and out, relishing in the feel of your silken, pulsating walls around his appendages as he continues eating you out - almost ravenously.

Gripping his locks tightly, you gyrate harder into his mouth. Waves of pleasure flit over your skin, your blood boiling with ecstasy as you feel the warmth in your belly begin to heat up. When Jungkook spreads your entrance using his fingers, his tongue plunging deeper into you, you let out a cry of pleasure. God, you’d forgotten just howgood Jungkook’s mouth was. Mouth and throat running dry, you swallow thickly before panting out his name over and over again. The once dull warmth begins burning your loins; searing, white-hot pleasure running up and down your flesh, your skin prickling with goosebumps as you feel your orgasm approaching.

“Please-” you groan out, the guttural sound intermingling with the wet, sloppy sounds of Jungkook eating you out. Thighs quivering against his ears, Jungkook pushes his fingers deeper into you. Expertly, he finds the sweet spot inside you, his fingers crooking at the knuckle as he strokes the spongy spot. Reflexively, your hand tugs his hair harshly while your knees buckle under the euphoria of your approaching orgasm.

“Are you cumming, baby? You wanna cum on my tongue?” Jungkook taunts, a teasing lilt to his voice. Swallowing thickly, it’s all you can do to simply rasp out his name. Knowing he has you on the verge of ecstasy, Jungkook doubles his efforts - his fingers pistoning inside you quicker as he wraps his wet lips around your clit.

“God, your pussy tastes so fucking good. I missed you - missed the way your pretty little pussy feels around my tongue,” Jungkook grunts out. Another whine of pleasure escapes your lips, your hips jolting into his face when the pads of his finger stroke your g-spot.

“Cumming-” you gasp out, your voice cracking under the pleasure.

“Then cum baby- cum all over my tongue. I wanna taste you- wanna drink you up,” Jungkook urges. The filthiness of his words, paired with the way he harshly sucks your clit, instantly has you cumming.

A loud mewl escaping your lip, you whine out his name. Your eyes roll back into your skull, your visions filled with white spots as your orgasm ricochets through you. Feeling you come undone above him, Jungkook rips his fingers out of you, his hands gripping your flesh and fingers digging into your skin as he holds your violently trembling thighs. The scent of your arousal thickens deeply, and Jungkook watches with dilated eyes as thick ropes of cum drip out of your cunt and down your thighs.

Placing his lips against your entrance, Jungkook slurps at your cum, swallowing it thickly and relishing in your taste. You whine out his name, your knees buckling from the power of your orgasm - and if it weren’t for Jungkook’s strong grip, you’re sure you’d drop to the floor. Gasping for air, you slowly come down from the high of your orgasm, Jungkook patiently waiting for you to descend down to reality.

Tenderly, your boyfriend places affectionate kisses along the length of your thigh, softly cooing at you while he whispers sweet nothings against your flesh. A soft smile tugs at your lips and you untangle your fingers from their vice-like grip on his locks. Instead, you softly play with the strands, marvelling at their silk-like texture. Jungkook always had beautiful hair, but with how long it is currently, you can reallyadmire it.

“Kook- want you,” you mew. Jungkook chuckles at the soft neediness in your voice.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Jungkook says before he gathers you in his arms. Gently, he brings you to the floor with him. Still swimming in the haziness of your orgasm, you feel Jungkook swiftly divest himself off his clothing, until he’s left naked. Once done, Jungkook gathers you into his arms once again. He shifts you so your thighs are straddling his, your body propped against his strong chest as his back rests against the door to your apartment.

Unable to help yourself, you rest your head against his shoulder, your hands indolently running over his skin as you finally feel him under your touch. You trace every muscle of his upper body - from the corded flesh of his biceps, to the taut skin of his abdomen; and then towards his broad, defined shoulders. Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist, his hands running up the hem of his hoodie and flitting up your skin before he divests you off the article of clothing - leaving you both naked.

Shuddering at the feel of the night’s crisp air against your skin, you snuggle closer into Jungkook’s warmth, letting his presence wash over you. “I missed you,” you mumble against his skin. Jungkook’s face softens and he nods, his head dropping so he can press a kiss to your shoulder. His long hair tickles your skin and you relish in the featherlight touch.

Not wanting to wait any longer - and more than desperate to feel him inside of you - you flex your thighs, picking yourself up. One hand feels out for Jungkook’s cock, and easily finding the shaft, you grip the base before pressing it against your entrance. Feeling the bulbous head push against your entrance, you let out a soft whine before slowly descending down onto him. Slowly, he spreads out your walls, his thick girth stretching you out for the first time in months. It’s been a while since you’ve had Jungkook and the sheer size of him has a dull pain stinging at your pussy walls - but you don’t mind so much. No, in fact, you cherish it - because you’d sorely missed how transcendent he’d felt stretching out your pussy to its brim.

“Oh fuck- God, you’re so fucking tight. You feel so good,” Jungkook groans out, his cock twitching with every inch he sinks into you. Jungkook’s arms wrap around you, holding your naked chest flush against his as you continue your descent onto his cock. When he finally bottoms out, his balls resting just under your ass, you let out a little whimper, your fingers clawing into his shoulder.

“You good, baby?” Jungkook asks, his lips skimming the outline of your collarbone.

“Yeah- you feel- so good,” you gasp out. Jungkook gives you a couple of moments to adjust to the feel of him - and then, he’s gripping your hips before lifting them up for you. You cry out in pleasure as you feel his cock retreat out of you, only for Jungkook to thrust upwards, plunging the entire length of his shaft.

The two of you begin moving in tandem with each other: Jungkook helping you move on top of him while simultaneously impaling his cock into you. With every one of his movements, you feel pleasure run through your veins. Every time he plunges the entirety of his cock inside of you, you let out short gasps, your toes curling in pleasure. Moving slowly, you take the time to simply feel each other - the ardent fire of your lust and love burning bright in the pits of both your bellies as you sink into unadulterated pleasure.

Your slow, sensual pace continues for a little while longer - but you can slowly feel Jungkook’s desperation increasing with each thrust. His hands begin wandering over your hips and around to hold your ass. Fingers digging into the soft flesh, he grips your ass tightly before bouncing you harder ontop of him. Need fills his every movement - Jungkook’s thrusts becoming rougher. You bounce on top of him, your entire body shaking as Jungkook thrusts harder and harder into you. Changing the angle of his hips, Jungkook plunges his cock against your sweet spot, the head of his cock brushing it with every impalement of his hips.

“I’m cumming, baby,” Jungkook warns. Not that he really needs to, you can feel his cock throb erratically inside you, twitching every now and then as your walls clench rhythmically around his shaft - massaging his entire length.

“Cum, baby. Cum in me. Wanna feel you deep in me,” you say softly, your hands softly massaging his shoulders. Jungkook lets out a little groan, pulling your hips harder down onto him as he tries to push his cock as deep as he can into you.

“Cum with me. Play with yourself. Wanna feel you cum around my cock,” Jungkook urgers, and you find yourself growing wetter at the authority present in his voice. Unable to deny him anything, you twist one arm between your body and begin expertly playing with your clit. The additional pleasure has you crying out in ecstasy. All of a sudden, you feel heat rush through your veins, your lips parting in a silent scream as you cum for a second time.

Feeling your walls clamp around him tightly, paired with the gushing of your cum around his cock, Jungkook let’s out a little groan. “Oh fuck,” he moans. Then with two stilted thrusts, he plunges his cock as deep as he can into you before cumming with a soft roar. His cock twitches inside your walls before he shoots rope after rope of hot cum inside you. You groan at the feel of his warmth, your toes curling in pleasure as the base of your spine tingles.

Jungkook holds you to him tightly, clutching your body to his as you both gasp and pant for air. The haziness of your euphoric high slowly abates, until you’re both left clinging to each other. Eventually, the white spots in your vision clear and you slowly pull away from him. You take in the sight of Jungkook, completely spent and sweat-soaked locks clinging to his forehead. Hearing you giggle, Jungkook opens one eye to peek at you.

“Stop laughing at me,” he pouts. Once again, you giggle at him, and then let yourself fall against him. Exhaustion weighs down your muscles and you find yourself snuggling into Jungkook’s chest, sleep already replacing the lust-filled fog that clouds your head.

“I can’t help it if you’re so cute,” you mumble sleepily. Jungkook bites his lips, lightly snorting through his nose. However, he simply doesn’t have the energy to argue with you. Instead, he sits quietly while attempting to catch his breath.

Eventually, he decides he’s had enough of a rest - but when he turns to you, you’re already deeply asleep, a small smile on your lips. Tenderly, Jungkook tuts, but there’s no real ire in it. Gathering you in his arms, he picks you up, wincing when his muscles protest the movement. Ignoring the pain, he carries you into your bedroom before gently depositing under the cover.

Fatigue quickly overcomes him, and it’s all Jungkook can do to not collapse beside you. Holding off, however, he manages to sluggishly pull himself under the cover. Once under the thick sheets, Jungkook shifts closer to you before he pulls you into his arms. You’re both sticky - your skin covered in a light sheen of perspiration - and it’s slightly uncomfortable, but Jungkook doesn’t care.

He’d be damned if he spent one more night without you in his arms.

a/n: owo i hope you enjoyed it! please don’t forget to tell me what you thought 🥺

⇥ Masterlist

[starshipsofstarlord]

Online dating

darcy lewis x reader / masterlist

summary; darcy decides to try a dating app, least to say, the guy isn’t anything like his picture. and thus she ditches him, and finds someone else in a hot second / warnings; the oc guys in this fic are dicks, homophobia, darcy being bae, swearing, mentions of sex and cheating, mentions of joy x reader.

he was a polar opposite to what he had portrayed his online self to be, screw the internet! this date was truly tragic, darcy had plenty of things that she could be better using her time for, rather than sitting opposite this oaf, that was licking his unappealing lips, and staring at the waitress when he thought that she didn’t notice.

“huh?” the scientific doctor pulled her phone out, ushering a puzzled expression on her face as she stared at the blank screen. she of course recognised that no one was making any attempts to contact her, but he didn’t know that. “one second.” she held her finger up, bringing the phone to her ear as she blabbered into the speaker that was inherently catching nothing that she was saying.

“slow down jane.” darcy falsely ushered, using her hands to exaggerate the conversation in her head. she put the phone down, a facade of panic elaborating behind her spectacle adorned eyes as she grabbed her belongings in a frenzy, standing upright and out of her seat. “im so sorry, my friend has just hit some guy with her car and she needs some moral support. tonight is going to have to be cut extremely short.”

short was a relief, but the hopeful expression on this dude’s face wasn’t. perhaps it was cruel to leave this guy hanging, and well, she couldn’t blame him for wanting more, she sent him an awkward smile as he began to speak. “we should do this again some time - properly.” darcy wasn’t dumb, she noticed how his eyes sped to the side as the curvy waitress walked by.

“sure...” no, definitely not. darcy was well aware that she was wasting her time with this moron, she didn’t need a man, let alone a dweeb of one. a quick wave was all she bade him as she exited the coffee shop, only to become engrossed in a scene erupting on the local streets. there was a woman, flinging shirts, and a bra within the bundle that looked as though it was not her size, what was she thinking, clearly it wasn’t, at said example of figurative masculinity.

“screw you durkus!” any guy named ‘durkus’ was basically a label confirming that he was a dick. “i don’t need you, nor the next man! i am a well established woman who has done more for this country than you could ever know, you’re dust beneath my feet, a pathetic layer of residue that i want nothing more to brush off.” perhaps she was being harsh, but it sounded like he deserved it.

from the red lipstick, that the woman was not at all sporting, from the random bra that she had flung at her partner, it was a safe bet to assume that he had cheated on her. darcy plodded closer, listening whimsically in, and realising that her life was pretty calm, there were no longer asguardians or dark elves infiltrating her life, nor the work that she had attained to field in.

she had only recently earned herself the title of doctor, and it was frustrating that people would assume that she opted for a profession in a hospital room, or they would forget the professional endorsement all together, and address her as ‘miss lewis’. she was no one’s puppet, she had scaled herself up the ladder of her career to be where she was now, but another thing that she was alongside such a wave of potential was a feminist.

this dick was shouting in the streets, calling her inexplicable names such as a ‘whore’, and a ‘two faced bitch’. having the ability to hear the insults brew anger in her stomach, she couldn’t just stand there. “what are you going to do, turn into a complete lesbian?” now that was the last straw, it had darcy marching over, and promptly she shoved the guy, making him drop all the items that were grasped in the basket of his arms.

a flabbergasted ‘huh’ was riveted from him, and it made darcy smirk as she attuned his attention towards her; the stranger that had gotten involved in his public display of disrespect and homophobia. “how about you watch your damned mouth before i make sure you can’t open it again. and whilst you’re at it, get some new shirts, you’re not a model, unless you’re the kind that are put on prison pamphlets.”

“who the fuck are you?” he spat his saliva on the ground by darcy’s feet, establishing her with the information that her first impression of this dick had been correct. women just knew with this kind of thing, they could sense trouble from a mile away. “you know what, keep that crazy bitch. maybe you can help her store her katanas, and go on double dates with danny rand and his plus one. rather you than me.”

“don’t ask.” the woman shook her head, tired of the drama that durkus always seemed to bring. she had enough trouble, involving work and extracurricular night time activities, without him adding to them. darcy presented her with a sweet smile, picking up the box of random bits and bobs that was on the floor. “that’s just work stuff, i’m moving offices and as i came to collect some things from our apartment, and i found him- well let’s just say he wasn’t alone.”

“that was pretty easy to pick up on. how’d you not realise that you were dating a total sleaze?” she was blunt with her enquiry, though the woman shrugged, a guilty expression cowering upon your features, like an ashamed shadow. a small, attractive smile graced her lips, secrets hidden beneath the span of the expression.

“oh, i knew. i just had to pretend to be happy, so that my ex, or well now, my other ex joy would stop chastising me, claiming that i haven’t got over her. she’s so up her own ass sometimes and it drives me- shit, i’m sorry, you don’t know me, nor do you need to hear about my problems.” the y/h/c haired woman shook her head, stretching her hand out to miss lewis. “i’m y/n, thanks a bunch for helping me out back there.”

darcy accepted her handshake, completing the action as she smiled. “i’m darcy.” this woman didn’t need to know about her doctor title, in fact, darcy was keen on knowing everything about her instead. “so’d how you meet him?” referring to the person that had most recently became y/n’s ex. y/n was relieved that darcy had shown up, she was sure she’d have used her martial art training for more than composition; she’d have kicked durkus’ flat ass.

“on a dating app.” it was a normal answer, she wouldn’t share the intel that before that she had saved his ass whilst wearing a black hood, stopping him from getting mugged in the dead of night. perhaps she should have saved someone else that particular late evening. darcy couldn’t help but let a small laugh out, finding both their circumstances quite amusing. she was sure a similar situation would have unfolded if she had decided to regularly see the date that she ditched.

“online dating man, it sucks, am i right?” it had quite the reputation, for the two of them especially. “maybe we should just date each other.” she joked, though she was being partially serious. it felt right, they had bumped randomly into one another’s faulted situations on the same day, it almost felt like fate, though that subject was too cheesy to say aloud.

“well doctor lewis, i would not at all mind going on a date with you.” darcy frowned at the title that she had been called, pointing at the side of the woman’s jacket, that had a recyclable label stuck upon the material. “so you majored in science, if i am correct?” finally, someone got it! she could get used to that.

y/n did not appear as a deity nor a creature from another realm, she was normal. or so as far as the eye could tell, in fact, she did not suspect a thing from this woman, much less to be a defender of the earth that worked in a small and less know league than the avengers, yet still roamed the us to protect its people.

darcy though had won this battle for her though, giving her a moment of peace from fighting, and had idly sent durkus on his route far away. y/n could get used to not being the hero all the time, more so if this doctor was her knight in shining armour.

[nyx-aira]

Heal my Wounds, Break my Heart

Requested by anon

Summary: You and Natasha get close after the snap, friendship turns into more but will your happiness last?

A/N: I am so terribly sorry, have some tissues. Seriously, I got the request and then my brain just went ANGST. I hope you still like it though ( I need to write some fluff soon)

TW: mention of death, blood, mention of suicidal thoughts, major character death

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

PSA c/@ynscrazylife

It had been tough. No one knew what to do now. Three of Earth's Mightiest Defenders were gone, half the population came back with the snap of a finger and the whole world was sunken into chaos again.

Sometimes Nat wasn't sure if she should be alive because of it. She had lost three of her best friends and had been separated from even more of them for five years. She couldn't just simply get back to life like nothing happened.

She still lived in the compound. There were more people now but it was still empty. The only highlights of her week were your visits. The two of you had grown closer in the years after the snap and had become inseparable.

After the battle had ended the first thing Natasha did was to search for you, she didn't know what would have happened if you hadn't survived. She had always been worried about you but your powers gave her some sort of peace, knowing that you could defend yourself against almost everything.

When Nat first met you she thought you were a healer. She saw you whisk away bullet wounds like they were nothing with a simple touch or wave of your hand, defeating enemies so much stronger than you.

White whisps on the battle field became something Natasha would start to look for, an indicator that you were still alive. Your magic protecting you as you protected others.

A healer, a gift she could only dream she had.

But Natasha realised that that wasn't the case when you saved her on a mission two years ago. She had been shot in the stomach and you had rushed to her side, looking at the wound and the empty warehouse, touching her hand gently.

She should have known by your pale face that something was wrong.

You sank to the floor clutching your abdomen. That's when it dawned on her, you didn't heal people, you took their pain away, quite literally.

You somehow made it back to the base, switching the wound between the two of you until you found a bird to pass it on. You were sorry for the bird but Natasha was just glad you were alive.

The moment in the warehouse, when you crumbled right before her feet, she had realised something.

You weren't just a friend or partner, no, you had become someone more than that. Someone she could trust fully, someone that understood her and someone that made her blush whenever she was in your presence.

At first she said it was the isolation, then she told herself this was just a different kind of friendship, she even though she had lost it for a second. But no. It was very simple.

Natasha Romanoff was in love.

Now that everyone was back you started to visit the compound more often. From twice a month to once a week, from once a week to every second day until you finally moved in.

You started spending every minute together. Training together, cooking together or simply just reading a book while Natasha practiced ballet.

It became sort of a routine. Nat would get up early in the morning, practice her dancing and after her first hour or so you would walk into the studio, nose always in some sort of book or article, carying a tray of food.

This morning was no exception. She had just finishing a form as you walked through the door, gorgeous as ever, even though she would never admit that.

Setting the tray down on the bench you took a croissant as you continued to read, Nat walking over to you, grabbing something as well and sitting down on the floor, leaning against your leg.

You didn't say anything but you could communicate without words. It had been a tough time for all of you so you were happy just enjoying the others presence without having to be on high alert for yet another crisis.

Finishing her food Nat looked up to see your piercing eyes staring at her, a small smile on your lips as you watched her. Natasha took your offered hand and sat down besides you, legs brushing.

In all the years she had been alive she had always known what to say but right now? Right now she was behaving like a teenager with their first crush.

She could have sworn she blushed as you took her hand and toyed with her fingers. No, she said to herself, this would only cause problems.

"Oh Nat", you said as you looked up from what you were doing, "if only you'd realise that you're not alone with your feelings."

The redhead abruptly looked up and could see your nervous smile as you pulled her in for a short kiss.

It was over as soon as it had begun but to her it felt like it never ended and she didn't want it to, at least her subconscious didn't.

Her mind was shouting at her that this was a bad idea but for the first time in her life Natasha ignored her mind and followed her heart.

Although she was very hesitant at first she soon grew comfortable with the idea of having a partner and soon there was nothing she'd rather do than sit by your side and hold you close.

She had finally found peace.

It had been yet another mission and Nat was exhausted, she looked over to you where you were sitting, putting your weapons away.

With a few steps she was by your side, pressing a short kiss to your temple as you flew home.

Finally able to get into more comfortable clothes you spent the day on the couch, watching TV and just enjoying your free time.

Deciding that you didn't want to order take out again and as it was shortly after midnight you decided to cook something together.

Nat went to get some ingredients from the garden and you started preparing the kitchen. She was exited to try out this recipe with you, it had been one of her childhood. Even though her youth wasn't anything near good she still though of this recipe as one of her best memories.

A safe haven in dark times, just like you were.

She just walked around the corner to see you laying on the floor, a puddle of blood forming around you.

Natasha dropped everything and rushed to your side, looking at the wound and dropping to her knees right beside you. She instantly recognised what it was. You had been shot in the stomach.

You had been shot and didn't say anything.

She desperately looked for the white whisps but they were gone and so were you.

Tears blurred her vision and a scream tore itself from her throat, a scream filled with heartbreak and loss.

There she knelt, the mighty Black Widow, blood staining her hands red as she cradled the face of her lover, begging for them to come back. Pleading with them to come back, come back to her.

But they didn't.

Natasha Romanoff died that day.

They said the circumstances were unknown but to those who knew her it was clear.

Natasha Romanoff died of a broken heart.

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

Taglist: @escapetodreamworld @midnight-lestrange @ynscrazylife @procrastinatingsapphictrash @ineffablebean @comic-cliint @wlwlovesreading @satxnsupreme @ycfwmalise14 @yelenabelovasgf

[somnambulants]

see where you’ve been

summary: Natasha is a tease and she likes to see you flustered. 18+ word count: 1.6K.

Spending time with Natasha is the best and worst thing in the entire world. 

The best because she’s the single most interesting person you’ve ever met and any time you spend in her presence feels like the ultimate gift. 

(You may be slightly biased, considering your overwhelmingly large and borderline schoolgirl-esque crush on her but that was another matter entirely and one you’d firmly decided you were not going to be addressing any time soon)

But, while you coveted every second spent with her like a kid would covet candy, it could also be the worst at certain times. 

Times like now.

With her pressed up so close to you that there’s not not even an inch of space between you.

Usually you’d be face down on the mat as she dug a knee into your spine by now. 

This is the first time you’ve been able to pin her down and it was almost entirely by accident.

So it’s probably not surprising that you freeze up but it doesn’t make it any less mortifying.

“Okay good….You would probably make a move on the target now, though,” she teases lightly after a second of you just gaping down at her. “Not just grope them.”

Letting her go, you swallow roughly, heat crawling up your neck as you realise your hands are on her chest. God. “R-right. Sorry.”

She winks at you playfully. “Not that I mind.”

You squeak, lips moving soundlessly as you try desperately to think of something to say and come up empty.

The only other occupant of the room -- thank god, you don’t know what you’d do if all the avengers had witnessed this -- Clint makes no attempt to hide his snicker as he does a set of pull-ups in the corner. 

As you scramble off her, she gives you a small, slightly amused smile and accepts the hand you hold out to help her up.

You make your excuses and book it out of there the second trainings over.

And If you take a longer than normal shower that night, definitely not doing what you’d normally do in the shower well, then, no one else has to know about it but you. 

Still, you know you’re going to have a hard time meeting Natasha’s eyes tomorrow. 

--

And you definitely do. Have a hard time meeting her eyes, that is.

You don’t know how but you somehow make it through your whole workout without once looking her in the eyes.

If you had looked though, you would have seen the speculative, knowing look in her eyes as she watched you fumble your way through training.

And then throughout the rest of the week, too.

And the week after that too.

Of course, you’re no expert in body language, but if you had just looked properly, you would have clearly been able to tell that she was planning something. 

And something devious, at that.

--

The universe hates you. So hates you. Thats all you can think.

You really must have accumulated some major karma to have deserved this.

It’s like Natasha’s taken your normal workouts and upped them by three hundred in their intensity. 

You’d thought you’d been a pretty decent fighter before this but you’re quickly realising she’s been going easy on you this entire time. 

And it’s also like she knows how much her touch affects you because all of a sudden she’s always touching you. 

Every-time she takes you down, her hands are on you. Lingering.

Every. single. time. 

You’ve had so many cold showers over the last month, you’re surprised you haven’t picked up hypothermia. 

In short, as time passes it just gets worse and worse until eventually you’re just a human ball of tension.

Like an elastic band that’s been pulled too far.

And even though you don’t realise it yet, it’s about to snap.

--

You yelp as she throws you down again, shoving you onto the floor and leaning down, pinning you there so you’re forced to just look straight up at her.

No matter how hard you struggle, she’s firm, holding you down, and pressing her knee against your stomach as she leans in closer. 

Your heart picks up even more, rabbit fast.

“I thought I taught you better than that,” she teases you, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up as you feel her lips brush slightly against the curve of your ear.

You then let out an audible squeak as she lets you go, pulling away with this look on her face you can’t quite decipher.

You must imagine it but for a second you swear that as she goes to move off you, she grinds her hips down against your own ever so slightly. 

And all of a sudden, all you can think about is her doing that. All the time. Sans the workout gear she’s currently wearing and on a much nicer, softer surface.

Like a bed.

She’s going to be the death of you. You just know it. 

You feel flushed, trembling a little. If you looked at yourself in the mirror right now you’re sure you wouldn't even be able to see your irises from how dilated your pupils must be.

There are times you swear she must know how she affects you. She’s literally trained to pick up on every single thing; there’s no way she couldn’t see your pathetically obvious attraction to her.

Sometimes you’ve thought that maybe she’s just being nice and politely ignoring it, others you’re not so sure.

Other times you think she knows and she likes it.

“Damn,” Natasha is chuckling, taunting you as she throws you down again less than five minutes later, her knees on either side of your waist as she holds you down, her eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re really off your game today, aren’t you?”

The elastic band snaps.

Looking up at her infuriatingly attractive face as she hovers on top of you, victorious smirk on her lips -- god, it’s so attractive, she’s so attractive -- you just stop ...thinking. 

You crash your lips to hers before you can stop yourself. 

Surprisingly you don’t get punched in the face. No. What happens is much weirder. 

She’s kissing you back.

"Finally,” she breathes against your lips. She’s smirking as she says it. You can feel it. 

Why is she smirking?

What she says is confusing enough that it sticks in your head, even with the confused state of mess that your own mind is right now. 

“I -- what?” 

Natasha jerks your head toward her, pulling you into her as she kisses you again, more roughly this time.

“It took you long enough,” she pants, pulling away to breathe and ripping your shirt off you. She pulls it over your head and throws it on the floor. “I’m a little insulted, actually.”

You stare at her, hands freezing where you’d been fumbling with the zip on her jeans. “You...knew?”

“Obviously.” Natasha smirks down at you as you dig your nails into the flesh of her hips harder in response to her mocking tone. “You’re kind of slow, you know that?”

She lets out a surprised sound as you abruptly flip your positions. 

Unconsciously, you must have picked something other than frustration from all these practices because she looks genuinely taken aback with you hovering over her all of a sudden. 

“You could’ve said something.”

The look on her face fades away into amusement at your words. She hums a little. “I could’ve. But watching you squirm was more fun.”

With a growl, you pull back a little, forcing yourself between her thighs that she gladly parts for you, wrapping them around your waist loosely as you settle your hands on her hips, jerking her towards you as you kiss her again, nails digging into her skin.

This is where what little control you have ends.

In the next breath, she’s manoeuvred you both so that youre now flat on your back beneath her, gazing up at her as she looks down at you, chest heaving a little.

Not even bothering to pull your panties down, she just shoves them to the side as she enters you quickly with one, then two fingers.

You inhale sharply and then whine out loud as she removes her fingers completely after a couple of thrusts, snickering at your clear disappointment.

She brings them up to her mouth and you watch as she laves them with her tongue before pulling them out with a pop, moaning quietly to herself.

“Nat,” you plead, breathing heavily. “Please.”

Natasha smirks. “Well since you asked so nicely.”

Your hips buck up against her as she enters you again. Rougher than before.

With her free hand, she presses down on your throat ever so slightly: not enough that you can’t breathe but enough that it’s harder for you to suck air in between your moans.

“Oh my god,” you pant heavily, your eyes rolling back a little as you adjust to her pace, which is sharp and unrelenting and already dangerously close making you fall apart with the first few thrusts.

Her hand on your throat tightens ever so slightly as you close your eyes.

“Look at me,” she demands. “Look at me or I’ll stop.”

Struggling to obey, you train your suddenly blurry vision on her face and watch as Natasha’s lips curl in a slow, satisfied grin in response.

“Good.”

[wizkiddx]

unusable faces

i have exams hence why i needed to write something exceptionally cringe :)

PSA: this is completely inspired from one of my fave writers own blurb @blissfulparker​ --> completely recommend u go read hers its much better than anything i could ever write!!!! (and just her whole account) = link

Summary: pure exhaustion and mutual pining, Tom Holland x actress!reader

^(just thought this was cute, doesn't really fit aha but full credit to op!!)

A scheduling nightmare would be putting it lightly. Perhaps almost unavoidable but that didn’t make it any less of a hellish form a torture. Harry had very helpfully said it actually was a form of torture, that is sleep deprivation. Y/n loved her job - it was all she’d ever really wanted - yet that thought was quickly becoming not enough to get her through the day. Not when it felt like an interrogation tactic used by the CIA. 

To give a quick timeline of the past few days may give a little context:

Thursday - filming the fight scene all day plus an evening-turned-half-the-night-shoot due to some technically difficulties delaying the process.

Friday - flying to New York while doing read throughs of scenes for the next few days; followed immediately by getting glammed and filming the tonight show with Fallon; then a dash across town to the late late show with James Corden; then straight back on a flight to Atlanta that landed at stupid o’clock in the morning

Saturday - a full day of shooting in a mock grand central station set

The press trip to NY had been unplanned… to say the least. But the star of their studios other new release had taken ill - meaning they had slots booked on some of the biggest talk shows in America that would just be abandoned (angering the shows bookers too). It was a waste of perfectly good promo time and since the studio had their two other stars together doing a block of reshoots - it wasn’t a conversation. Much more a call demanding the two of them to be on the plane.

Normally this wouldn’t be such an unmanageable ask either, except the reshoot block was really rather time pressured. You see, the promo tour wasn’t far from beginning meaning they really needed the final film in the can. So really it was a bit of a mess. Just to free up that single day the two were in New York the whole schedule had had to be rejigged - in doing so they’d lost a rare day off too. It was just typical.  

The joys of success hey?

Well, that’s at least what Y/n was making herself think whilst her incredibly talented SFX artist was in the process of crafting a deep wound onto her upper arm. The reason why she would be ‘dripping with blood’ whilst at a train station was beyond Y/n to be honest - she hadn’t been allowed to read a lot of the script so even now as filming was drawing to a close, the story arc of the movie she was headlining was still a little ‘fuzzy’.

“So I watched your ‘spill your guts’ thing on YouTube” Ellie giggled whilst reaching over for more prosthetic putty- a technical term apparently

“I’m glad one of us enjoyed the experience” Y/n replied with a sigh, rolling her eyes at the mischievous smirk on her face - no doubt Ellie took great joy out of seeing her suffer through eating a thousand year old egg. Which Y/n swore the taste of was still in her mouth… and it seemed as though it’d never leave. 

“Oh don’t worry darling I did too” Nelli called over from the next chair along, where she was doing Tom’s makeup for the day of shoots. “Between that and the animals on Fallon, you made a hell of a lot of people laugh last night” Tom’s artist was referencing the fact one of Jimmys other guests was a zookeeper, so at the end of the interview he had you and Tom join in trying not to scream at the snakes and spiders.

“You mean laugh at us?” 

“Well of course darling!” Nelli exclaimed back in an overdramatic bronx accent making all three of the women burst out laughing, Ellie’s unceremonious snorts echoing through the trailer only egged them all on more.

Tom in response, who had otherwise been absent from conversation for the majority of the morning, exclaimed a curse and jumped up in his chair. While you and Ellie collected yourself, Nelli apologised to him.

“Oh sorry love, I’m interrupting your snooze with my uncontrollable comedic gift” She spoke sweetly, even if still taking the moment to flaunt to the other women, as she squeezed his shoulder compassionately.

“No no” Tom waved off her apology, attempting to rub his eye before Nelli swatted his arm away - a stern look for the risk of ruining all her hard work she’d put into making his face look half presentable. 

“I’m impressed you can sleep while they poke you with all these er instruments” Y/n added in, having only just realised Tom had been in a light sleep for god knows how long they’d been in that chair. It did seem a bit unlikely, being able to fall asleep as you were dabbed, prodded and brushed. 

“Maybe you should try though Y/n… your purple eye bags are proving a struggle even for me” Ellie quipped back, now it was Y/n’s turn to give the stern look. Tom took the explain though, shutting her off from whatever kindly meant insult she was about to throw back at her friend. 

“No normally never, I just….” He was cut off by an ear splitting yawn, appearing almost powerful enough to crack his jaw - which would be a disaster, for no one should ruin such a beautiful and sharp jaw line. “…uh-sorry. I just think I ended up taking my NyQuil and DayQuil the wrong way round in the madness of yesterday.” Only Tom, the poor kid often seemed to lacking in any form of common sense - even if those closest to him knew just how intellectual and passionate he could be about the right topic. Affectionately, Nelli scalded his idiocy by jokingly swatting his head with a little tut.

“I can’t believe your still standing then! I’m barely alive and I don’t have any sedatives in my system.” It was true, Y/n was at that stage where every part of her body felt ridiculously heavy… eyes included … eyes especially. 

“But I did sleep on the jet back while your stupid self was studying the script!” Tom replied with a pretty inarguable point - at the time he knew her actions were stupid;  when their flight took off at 11 PM he was certain that the most valuable asset to his ability to act in the reshoots today would be sleep - rather than character development. And he’d tried to convince Y/n that briefly, but gave up. She was bloody stubborn when she wanted to be. 

“Stop competing about who has it worse cos I think it’s me and Nell”Ellie announced - making Nelli agree empathically with her coworker, nodding her head as she looked first to Y/n in her chair then back at Tom.

“Yeh because we have to deal with your unusable faces!!”

After much sarcasm thrown back and fourth, the trailer slowly ebbed it’s way back into serenity and peace as both artists focused on their work. Once Nelli was done she excused herself, Tom staying in the chair in favour of studying (more like staring blankly) at the dialogue for this mornings scenes. His pretence didn’t last long though and while Ellie was busy adding the final touches of fake blood to the now almost completely believable gash that she’d crafted on Y/n’s arm - Y/n had her attention focused the opposite way.

At poor little Tom. He looked so childlike, his slightly puffy eyes looked as if they had weights tied to them - they way he was having fight against gravity to flutter his eyes open, before loosing the next second only for the process to repeat as they dragged downwards. The broad muscles of his neck occasionally seemed to occasionally let up a little, letting his head tilt slowly at first until it gathered enough momentum to throw him off balance. The then sudden movement of his head unconsciously pulling itself back in line caused his eyes to bolt open prior to the whole cycle repeating again. All Y/n wanted to do was let him lay down someone, her heart feeling a tug in her chest just seeing him like that. 

Ellie proclaimed her completion of the wound, leaning back to admire her work before looking to get an affirming nod from Y/n. Yet instead, she was too preoccupied gazing at the boy slouched across from them. “Someone seems a little distracted.” Ellie smirked, finally garnering Y/n’s attention, only feeling more and more smug watching a light tint appear on the actors cheeks. 

“I-well-no… we need to go.” Y/n ignored her words as though nothing had happened, instead rushing off the chair to get Tom out the chair and onto the awaiting set. They had places to be.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (bcos im lazy)

Honestly when the director, Ed, called for lunch break, it was pretty apparent to be purely as a compassionate gesture to Y/n and Tom. Both of them had tried so hard this morning to fully commit, even so they’d both been almost completely useless. Y/n kept missing cues whilst all Tom’s actions and lines where slow, dragged out and at times completely prompted from someone behind the cameras. 

So when the lunch break was called there was only one thing on Y/n’s mind and what sandwich was available in the mess tent was not it. Still standing on the set next to her fake holdall bag she looked toward Tom, who was pulling himself up to standing from the train station bench - the pace of his movement making him look more like an old man. 

“You good?” His answer was predictable. 

“I’m so fucking shattered”

Tom swore he’d never heard anything sweeter come out of Y/n’s pink lips than her next statement.

“C’mon I know somewhere we can lie down.”

Without any sort of thought Tom blindly agreed, nodding as he took her outstretched hand in his. The gesture in itself brought a fresh wave of comfort to his aching limbs and as his feet stumbled to catchup with her slight head start he leant the majority of his weight into their connected hands. 

Neither would admit it but they were ‘a thing’… whatever the hell that meant. It was clear as day to everyone and anyone that worked closely to the two but neither of them had ever broached the topic with each other. They’d worked on a few films together over the years; each time they got closer and closer to the point any job without the other simply wasn’t as good. It was scary though, especially for two actors in the prime of their careers. If they weren’t working the same film they’d likely be the opposite side of the world to each other most of the time - quality time together would be few and far between, Really their jobs didn’t suit dating at all, yet it would be perhaps easier if one half of it worked a ‘normal’ job. Something with consistency, a regular structure. A level of dependability that neither Y/n nor Tom could offer to the other. 

So it was terrifying, acknowledging the growth in their magnetic attraction to each other. Both were acutely aware that doing that, confronting their feelings, would most likely signal the beginning of the end. 

Although none of this stoped Y/n from returning the gesture, tilting her shoulder into Tom’s left side as they took slow steps through and then out the set building. She steered the two past the hair and makeup trailer and round into a store and extra equipment trailer. Tom tilted his head as she climbed the stairs whilst beckoning for him to follow - it didn’t seem like the most obvious choice. Rolling her eyes, Y/n explained.

“It’s where all the blankets and coats and kept for the raining scenes plusssss no one will disturb us in here.” Again Tom was not in a position to disagree, eyes drooping as his shoulders sagged to the floor. Right now he’d take anything. 

So he climbed up the stairs and shut the door behind him, just as Y/n flipped the light on. She was right, it was well equipped and with an almost mountainous supply of red blankets that normally the crew and extra would all be wrapped up in after the freezing rain scenes with all the ‘waterfall machines’ as Y/n called them. However it was also um…. It was cosy. “Oh I don’t think I realised how small it was” She chuckled lightly, since now the door was closed her back was pressed up against the far wall of cabinets and still her front was mere millimetres from Tom.

“I…I don’t mind… if-if you don’t?”

“I’m too tired to care” She giggled in response, and Tom , now with her seal of approval, immediately started ransacking the piled shelves for all their worth creating a floor carpeted in the pale red of the blankets, in an attempt to make it more cosy. Joining in, it was almost remarkable how quickly their bodies suddenly agreed to move, with the new promise of rest mere moments away. 

Once the trailer was fully drowned, Tom kicked off his costume shoes and threw his jacket off - it haphazardly landing by the doorway. Y/n copied him, leaving her stood up whilst he had the advantaged of already settling down on the floor, her standing and looking down at him.

The space between the two opposing shelving units was not close spacious enough for two people to lie down whilst keeping a respectable level of personal space. Suddenly feeling a wave of awkwardness, Y/n stayed standing, wringing her hands slightly - whilst fairly certain Tom could hear her heart running at 100 mph. 

“You er… gonna stay there or?” Tom, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t a complete idiot - he could see she was suddenly self conscious. He got it too - they’d never crossed this boundary of choosing to cuddle into each other. It had happened once of twice accidentally over there 2 years of knowing each other. Both of those times it was completely accidental, falling asleep watching a movie with a safe distance of space b between the two, only to find hours later their bodies almost completely intwined. Tom would be lying if he said that his heart didnt skip a beat when he had awoken to Y/n’s soft and gently breath fanning into his neck. He’d loved it, but understood that was unconsciously breaking down part of the wall they’d both been the constructors of.

For fear of getting hurt. 

So now, as Y/n awkwardly bent down and lay on her side, he thought it was imperative to make her feel comfortable. Naturally then, his arm slid round her shoulders and pulled her down toward his chest, releasing a little breath as he felt her relax, her legs slowly wrapping round one of his. 

“This okay?” He murmured, now into the crown of her head as she lay half on her side half on his chest. In reply she nodded into him and Tom couldn’t help but grin- unbeknownst to him but Y/n was doing the exact same thing. 

The peace lasted all of 3 seconds until she groaned again.

“What?” Tom enquired as she wriggled out his hold and stood up. Instead of replying though she just leant over and flicked the one harsh light bulb off making Tom chuckle as she fumbled her way back onto the padded floor in the darkness, earning a few grunts from both as she accidentally kicked Tom’s thighs or banged her head on one of the now empty shelves. Fumbling her way back into a comfortable position, occasionally cursing when she stubbed her toe- or Tom did when she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Comfy?” Tom asked a little sarkily as he squeezed her a little more into his side.

“Mhmmmm… I’m gonna sleep for 100 years”

“Yeh me… me too”

And with that they both almost instantly and in complete unison sagged into each other and the blankets - the pent up stress and tension of the past few days ebbing away.

What the pair had neglected to remember was that sleeping for 100 years wasn’t really an option. The whole crew of 50 people, who wanted to restart filming after 45 minutes, had not been told about Y/n’s little hiding place. The pair were so completely safe in their own little cocoon of comfort they were completely oblivious to their teams calling there names more and more frantically. Completely oblivious to the game of hide and seek the situation had descended into, completely oblivious to Harrys natural annoyance as the director asked him for the whereabouts of the two stars - as though Harry was childminder to the pair of them.

It was Nelli who found them first. She’d and Ellie and Tom’s manager had all been recruited by Harry as part of the man hunt. Both girls, having seen first hand the state of the two this morning, were fairly certain they’d both crashed out somewhere. So Nelli, already with a sneaking suspicion, opened the door gently, her figure blocking the majority of the light from seeping through to the dimly lit inside. The sight she was met with had her actually pouting at the cuteness - and yes its a cringey word but also the only one appropriate.

Between bedding down and barely an hour later the two had managed to become impossibly tighter pressed to each other. Y/n’s face was pressed into the crook of Tom’s neck and his arms seemed to have pulled her on-top of him almost completely. Her left leg was hooked under his right, which was then sandwiched by his left too. They both looked so pure and innocent and god did Nelli know they both needed any extra time they could get.

Nelli cared a lot about Tom, she’d been working with him from the beginning, from the child star days to now. She cared about him like her very annoying surrogate son and she wanted to see him looked after. She also so completely wanted the two stars to stop pining after each other. Because frankly it was getting a little frustrating for everyone else. 

So she chose to tactically forget about her discovery, sneaking a photo on the sly before silently pulling the door closed and leaving them to their sleep. 

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

Silva Lining (Saul Silva x reader) Chapter 2

Warnings: Swearing?

Word count : 2.1k 

This chapter was a little longer, I really get hooked on all of the details and before long the chapter keeps getting bigger and bigger. It’s gonna be a whole story so bare with <3 

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

The night before starting at a new school you thought was supposed to be exciting, or you were meant to feel nervous, it was not supposed to be spent crying in Tara’s arms after explaining to her what had happened between you and the man you now believed to be your soulmate. You don’t know how long it had taken you to get to sleep in the end, all you knew is that you woke up as heartbroken as you were the night before. However, today is the first day to the rest of your fairy life, so brave face, and deal with the pain after hours.

Technically you didn’t have to go down to the courtyard to see everybody coming in, part of you was just interested, nosy, sick of being surrounded by only like 3 people for the last two months? Let’s just say you had your reasons. So there you were standing by yourself like an idiot, Tara was helping some of her friends move their things in, you noticed a girl with bright blonde hair, stunning, popular no doubt, she had the heir about her, not to mention there was already a group of Fairies crowded around her. Then you noticed another girl, flaming red hair, looking a little lost, part of you wanted to walk over to her, say hi or whatever, then you realised Sky had already clocked her too and was making his way over. Sometimes it was good to fade into the background, it just meant you could see everything happening without seeming too nosy. Like when you notice Blondie shoot daggers towards Sky and the girl he was speaking to, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Dramaaaaa. The conversation ended quickly when another guy, dressed in dark clothing with brown hair snuck up behind Sky interrupting. From the way they messed around you knew they were good friends. Maybe it was the guy River… no.. Riven, Sky had told you about. You looked away, starting to feel a little lonely as you watched friends re connect after time away. You only had one friend so far, and no doubt she had friends already here too, it was only a matter of time before you were on your own again. 

It wasn’t long before the final students had come through the gates and they began to close, you were one of the last ones outside, some stragglers lingering, when you felt someone come up behind you. You could tell instantly who it was, you wanted to be pissed off, but you couldn’t, his presence making you feel more at home than ever. He was close enough that you could feel his breath fanning the back of you neck, but far enough away so that if anyone saw you both it would just look like a private conversation. 

“You should be mingling with others, not standing here on your own.” You could tell by the tone of his voice he was frowning. It angered you. He was the one that decided what you felt for each other ‘wouldn’t work’ and now he thought he had an opinion when it came to your social life? 

“Saul, I mean, Mr Silva, you made it pretty clear yesterday that what we have.. had, wouldn’t work, so why are you concerned about what I do.” You moved away from him as you heard him sigh. You could tell he was frustrated, you didn’t care. In the two months you’d got to know Silva, you realised that he was a pretty dominant figure, he wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted, or having someone talk back to him. 

“Listen Y/N, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He gritted out, it was paining him that he couldn’t touch you. You rolled your eyes and scoffed, turning to look at him, raising your eyebrow in a kind of ‘are you done?’ attitude. His jaw clenched. “Just stay out of the woods, there was another sighting of a burned one, it’s not safe to be out there at the moment.” With that he brushed past you, his skin brushing yours lightly enough to leave your whole body tingling, he faltered as he felt it too but carried on walking away. You headed off the the Fairy hall, looking back watching his re treating figure, you thought you had been the only two out there, but just before you rounded the corner you caught a glimpse of Headmistress Dowling, staring at the both of you from the top window of her office. 

The hallways were bustling, students squealing and hugging friends, luggage being hauled through the crowds, you had to push your way past, noticing on the way, a lot of people staring at you. You could hear people chattering, whispering, getting bits and pieces of sentences here and there like “Changeling” ‘Burned one” “multiple powers”.. You rolled your eyes, how the fuck did the news spread so quickly. You were grateful when you reached the door to your halls. You pushed the double doors open wide and took in your surroundings. Tara was there, sorting out all of her plants, she looked up and gave you a wide smile. 

“Oh Y/N there you are! I was just telling the girls all about you.” She rushed out and came to stand next to you. The noise attracted a few girls from the rooms off of the main dorm. Blondie from earlier sauntered out, you don’t know why it hadn’t clicked before that she was obviously the princess. Then followed a girl with headphones, a girl with funky looking hair, bits of blue were braided through it, and then the girl with the flaming red hair you’d seen in the courtyard. You stood awkwardly, your Doc Martens kicking the tiled floor. It was easy to see you all had different styles, you were no exception. There seemed to be a colour theme going on. 

“You don’t have to be so worried you know, we don’t bite.” The voice came from the girl with the headphones dressed in purple. “I’m Musa, i’m a mind fairy, that’s how I know what you’re feeling, also the reason you’ll see me with these almost every single minute of the day” she said while holding up the bulky headphones that were around her neck. 

The girl with the braided hair was next to introduce herself as Aisha, Water Fairy, explained why she had the blue theme going on. Next was Bloom, the girl from the courtyard with the Fire like red hair, which was suiting considering she was a Fire fairy. She was the other girl from earth. 

Lastly was Princess Stella. A light fairy, her hair funnily enough as you mentioned earlier, a bright shade of blonde, her clothes weren’t yellow, matching the whole light theme, but you did clock that the majority of her room and clothing choices were shiny. She gave you a smug smile, you knew girls like her back home, you’d been friends with a girl like her back home, she gave off a vibe of “I’m better than everyone else” but it’s probably just so she can hide her own insecurities. There was hope for her yet so you gave Stella a smile, which shocked her. You looked down at yourself, taking in your appearance, heavy Doc Martin boots, black ripped skinny jeans, plain white top and black leather jacket, okay so if they all had colour themes yours would definitely be black. 

“You’ve obviously met Tara, she didn’t shut up about you since we all got here, interesting that you’re from earth too like Bloom, two earthlings in one year, how exciting, and you killed a burned one on your arrival, isn’t that something.” You glared a little at the girl dressed in Green as it seemed she had already spilled some details to the girls in your dorm. Stella mocked surprise, oopsing at the fact that she’d brought up what Tara had obviously babbled out. 

Tara mouthed a sorry from across the room, the earth fairy was harmless and you knew that anything she had said would have been accidental or came out in excitement. “Yup well, I’m Y/N as Tara has probably already told you, born in England, Silva found me, killed a burned one at the barrier in the woods, apparently I have multiple abilities andddd i’m a changeling. Any more questions? I thought not.” 

You laughed and walked over to your room. You shared the space with Musa, just like her mezzanine, you had one directly above, sort of like a bunk bed but it was more like a bunk room. You’d mastered the art of not falling over the railing when getting up in the night to pee which you were happy about. You heard the girls below all talking about what a changeling was, how you’d killed a burned one, what a burned one was, all riveting stuff. The only thing you could think about, the only person you could think about, Silva. Musa looked at you and gave you a side smile. You were going to have to get used to someone around you knowing how you felt all the time. 

“So Y/N, are you going to the party?” Your head peaked up, a party? You didn’t know there was going to be a party but you were sooo going. You needed to let off some steam, do some flirty flirting with the boys and for once be a normal teenager. “I say party, it’s not gonna be some total rave but it’s like a welcome party.” It surprised you that Stella asked. You flopped onto your stomach on your bed. 

“Count me in, i’m gonna go for a walk first though, clear my mind and get some air before. Anyone want to join?” You watched as 4 of the 5 girls shook their heads no, it was yet again Stella who surprised you saying yes. Maybe she wasn’t going to be awful after all. 

Stella was surprisingly easy to get along with and you could already tell she liked you, maybe you’d already become friends even, you didn’t want to push your luck. You found yourself walking by the pond near where the specialists train. You hadn’t realised that that’s where your feet had led you until Stella tugged on your arm a little. “See that guy there, the one with the blonde hair, that’s Sky, we used to date.” Stella linked arms with you. You nod your head and explained how you’d met Sky when you first arrived here. You tensed as you heard his voice, you heard him before you saw him. 

“So, after your classes, you’re all mine.” It made you choke on nothing but air and your cheeks flushed. A few heads turned to look at the interruption and you ducked before Silva saw your red face. He’d seen you though, hiding beside the Princess, he tried to conceal his grin of amusement and then went back to teaching. You looked to Stella, the awkward moment hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. Before you could explain you heard shouting, you and Stella sat down on a near by bench and watched as Silva roasted the living daylights out of a first year specialist for being disrespectful. You could pick up pieces of their conversation, Stella filling in the blanks you didn’t catch. 

“The shield is to protect us from the burned ones”….

“Have you ever seen a burned one.” Silva was pointing his sword at the students face. 

“That’s the thing no one my age has, isn’t that all over now?” The first year specialist didn’t seem so confident now and you scoffed. Wrong, you’d KILLED a burned one, without even knowing what a burned one was at the time. You still don’t remember how you did it, that moment blanked out completely in your mind, the only thing you remember, Silva finding you haunched over the body.

“That’s where you’re wrong, one of the fairies here, was attacked by one on the way in, luckily, something was in her powerful enough to kill it before it could kill her, so no, it’s not all over now.” You could tell Silva was gritting his teeth, stopping from going any further, sometimes his anger slipped away from him. A few people that had obviously heard the rumours turned and looked at you, shock crossing their faces as if they were all thinking the same thing… so it was true, not a rumour after all. You’d finally had enough of the stares, you jumped up, catching the attention of Silva, Stella following behind you as you walked away and towards the woods. 

The very place Saul had told you not to go to. 

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

PART 3 ---- CLICK HERE 

Tag list :

@kingunder221b

@anreeixcobra

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Buxom beauty

Oneshot summary; You struggle, as an overweight and taller than average woman, to find the beauty in yourself. However, Loki there to make you understood just how worthy and magnificent you truly are.

Pairing: Loki x reader  

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Oneshot

Word; 2.900

Warnings; will say triggering themes ( e.x serious self-doubt) even if it may not be the case, maybe som angst

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: So a little mid-week surprise everyone! This fic is per request from a user on my AO3 account following their lines of: “Could you possibly do one where reader is tall for a woman but also overweight? She struggles with seeing herself as worthy or beautiful but Loki is tryna make her see herself the way he sees her in his own special way?? Please can you do this?” It started out as a drabble and an hour later it was all of a sudden a whole ass fic. Tbh I’m not even gonna apologise this time.

Your eyes were levelled with the upper edge of the mirror. Although you didn't concentrate on how the top of your head didn't really fit into the reflected image unless you took a few steps back. Instead, your eyes followed the soft curves running along the sharp edges of the mirror.

It was soft. No, you were soft in places which the majority of women perhaps not were. Rather than resemble the figure of the mirror before you, which was slim and narrow. Your body was an even curve all the way from your busts to thighs. Though depending on how you shifted your weight, it could also become uneven. Despite how it looked, some places were more generous than others in exceeding the public image of how you should look.

When you turned to the side, your head stayed twisted towards your figure. Your outline wasn't straight. Nor descending into a slender point of which your feet was the tip. It was like a wave, rising in places and lowering in others. And much like that movement of water, your body didn't have any sharp edges. It was simply soft and natural-looking.

You closed your eyes, turning back to fully face the mirror. However, as you started to walk backwards, you didn't re-open them. Purely because you didn't need to look to know there was no gap between your thighs. Neither how no trained illusion of abs existed as an outline under the shirt you wore. Nor how the fabric covering you followed the curve of your chest rather than fell in drapes.

Not until you had shuffled about a foot and a half backwards, enough so that you knew all of you fit in the length of the mirror, did you open your eyes.

You saw the tiredness in the eyes staring back at you. It was a tiredness of trying to make yourself look another way, tiredness to view yourself as enough. Only if you realised and found yourself in the fact that you wouldn't look any other way and that you didn't always need to be enough, maybe that exhaustion would disappear.

A sigh left you while you closed the dresser door to hide the cursed mirror. It was with the same force as you'd done earlier today when you had shut the locker door in the gym without even putting anything in there, choosing to just head back home instead.

You'd wanted to be there at first. But, discouraged by the little mirror in the changing room and the glances received from the already remarkably trained people working out, you suddenly didn't.

You still contemplated the choice. Because you shouldn't have chickened out so quickly. However, home meant that you only were aware of your own intrusive thought, rather than everyone else's judgement too.

Since this morning, your head had felt heavy with thoughts. Throughout the day, though, it had only gotten worse.

It felt like even though you rested, the little voice telling you you should do something was there. Yet, every time you did something, the other voice, the one telling you to stop trying, also whispered in your ear. This was a day you listened to the second, exemplified by your action of fleeing the gym.

So, ever since returning from the short trip outside, you hadn't done much more than lounge around in the apartment you shared with Loki.

The raven god was, for the moment, on yet another mission with the team. Though he'd told you that he wouldn't be gone for more than three days, you hadn't gotten to know much else of the mission. And despite you felt worried every now or then about the lack of information, it was fine. Because early on in your relationship, Loki said he never would hide anything from you if you asked, but he preferred to keep his work and private life as separate as possible.

You respected and understood that. So most times, you settled with the little pieces of information he willingly gave you. Primarily because you could sense his nerves anyway and know how serious the mission was from that. This time around, however, Loki hadn't been worried about the mission, so neither did you feel like you had a reason you should.

Although now, worried or not, you wished he wasn't away on a mission at all. Instead, at home with you.

You would've made the most out of the day, despite how you felt, if Loki was here. Maybe you would've watched some movies, gone out on a walk, or perhaps cook together. It was mundane activities but still things both of you enjoyed. Now though, the only representation of your mischievous partner was his shirt.

You'd nabbed it from Loki's side of the closet in an attempt to calm yourself down from the scent still lingering in the fabric. Only that it resulted in a critical try.

Because not only did it remind you too much of the warmth and presence of him, which made you miss him even more. It had also become the cause of you suddenly staring in the dresser mirror and becoming ever more conscious about yourself.

You hadn't only thought back on the day while standing there, but also the way his shirt fits you. It didn't hang down to your knees, not even the middle of your thighs. It ended halfway over your bottom, like your own shirt with an inch or two added. Thus, if you hadn't worn any tights, you would've walked around just as exposed as if you had worn one of your own shirts.

Even now, when heading from the living room to the kitchen, you looked down at where the shirt ended. The edge brushed along the very top of your thighs. You tried pulling it down a bit, but the fabric simply inched upwards again, making your brows furrow and lips purse.

That was until you heard something.

Your expression changed so that your eyebrows raised and eyes sought out the front-door from which the sound of a lock opening came from. You hadn't made plans with any friends today. Even if you had, they should've knocked, seeing how none of them had a key to your place.

The second you started to worry that it was a break-in, you saw a silhouette you recognised all too well. It was clad in green and gold. The raven hair that touched the tops of his shoulders, nearly blended in with the darker details of the clothing. You started to move before even registering anything more of Loki.

It was with mere moments to spare you noticed the emerald shimmer surround him and remove the armoured parts of his attire before you crashed into his chest.

A little ouf left the god, as he didn't expect the welcoming he got. But that didn't matter, as your arms encircled his neck instinctively. Unable to do anything else than simply stay put a few steps into the foyer, Loki encircled your waist with his arms, face boring into your neck as yours already had done in his.

"You said you wouldn't be home until tomorrow", you mumbled. Knowing he'd heard what you said from the little kiss he gave the side of your neck.

"Well, you know how my brother is, ever as impatient. Sometimes for the better and other times worse, thankfully this time was not the latter", Loki pulled his head out of the crook in your neck to look at you, consequently making you do the same. "Hopefully, you do not mind?"

"Definitely not", you thought you'd said it casually, but the way the raven-haired god tipped his head inclined you hadn't.

"Something wrong, darling?" You gave him a smile and shook your head as you said 'no' while stepping out of his arms. If you would've guessed, you supposed it was the way you retracted from Loki's touch that gave him more than a feeling that you'd lied.

"If there's something wrong, you can tell me", that he even said this made you understand he was aware that you weren't ok. Nevertheless, you saw the exhaustion in his eyes by being away on a mission with the team. He may have been recruited to the Avengers by his brother, rather unwillingly one may add, on the basis that the god of thunder could keep a watchful eye over his brother that way, though he by now had accepted the fact he wouldn't leave. 

Yet simply because of this, or that he was a god, didn't mean Loki didn't get tired from the countless missions he was assigned. And it was because of this, you didn't want to burden him with what had weighed you down this whole day.

"I know, Loki", you turned then, starting to head towards your shared bedroom and the bathroom that connected to it to run a bath. However, you weren't even able to suggest that before a hand shot out and wrapped itself around your wrist.

It was enough to make you glance over your shoulder with a raised brow, but not enough to hurt.

"I can see something isn't right and that you feel like you can't tell me", your lip caught between your teeth at the pleading way the raven-haired god looked at you. Still, you didn't say anything, now concerned he would find your worry silly. "Darling, please".

"I-I... why do you want to know? You must be exhausted, go take a shower, or I can tap up a bath for us", you tried smiling to convince him he should think about himself before considering you. Yet, it seemed Loki was as persistent as you at the moment.

"Not until you tell me what's on your mind", he took a step closer, now tugging lightly at where he held your arm so you would turn to him.

"It's n...".

"Do not tell me it is nothing. If not because I am the god of lies, then because I am your lover", he cut off the half-ass excuse you'd tried to use and continued to look at you with the intent of not letting you escape with anything but the truth said. Despite he didn't know you knew you wouldn't have tried anything again, the last part of his sentence striking a nerve that made you sigh.

"This day has just been bad", you finally said. "I-I... it feels like I just need a break from my thoughts. And I know you probably need one too, regarding how messy those missions can get", the god of mischief's lip tugged upwards slightly at this.

"You, my dear, are a break from everything that ever could weigh me down".

"How can I be that", you snapped, hand tearing away from Loki's grip. You didn't know why you reacted like that all of a sudden, probably because what he said rubbed so wrong against everything you thought about yourself today. But it got even worse when you saw the slightly shocked look painting Loki's features. "There's so many more that could fulfil that", you mumbled under your breath, feeling the burn of embarrassment in your chest as you turned to head down the hall and not face him after your little outburst.

Yet you were stopped, once again, by the god when he spun you around to face him. The previous shock had now turned into a furrow between his brows.

"But I do not want more, darling, I simply want you", on good days, you may have smiled and kissed him for those words. Now you just cringed at them while trying to escape the grasp he still had on your hips.

"How could you?" You finally said when realising he wouldn't let go of you, head falling forwards to look down on the floor. "Just...just look at me compared to every other woman you meet. What do I have that they don't?"

There was a silence then, one that made you shut your eyes. You prepared to feel Loki's hands leave you where they still rested on your body, hot and anchoring, though that was not what happened. He did move, but not to take his hands off of you, nor away from you. Instead, his finger hooked under your chin.

Even though you followed his gentle encouragement to tip your head upwards, you didn't open your eyes despite feeling his gaze on you.

"Please darling, open your eyes", he didn't need to coax you any further. "There those pretty gems are", you hadn't even opened them entirely before Loki said this, instantly making you smile. Nevertheless, as if your thoughts today really didn't want you to feel happy, worthy, of his love, the corners of your mouth tipped downwards when remembering he still hadn't answered your question.

As if sensing, if not plainly seeing, the change, Loki's brows furrowed. You tried holding his gaze but felt you were unable to do so, which in the end, made you avert your eyes.

What you couldn't know was that your display had made Loki realise something did really bother you today and that the topic of the conversation held moments earlier, maybe a reflection of that.

Suddenly you felt how the touch at your left hip disappeared, to be sensed once more when it rested against your cheek. You were unable not turn towards the god of mischief with wide eyes at his gesture. However, as you once more looked at him, you saw nothing of the playfulness that often accompanied him, just a seriousness as he looked at you.

"You asked what you have compared to what others don't", he began, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. "You have the ability to calm me like no other. You have a beauty incomparable to anyone else. You have my hearth", you felt a flutter in your chest as Loki's hand trailed from your face down to your waist, only to there pull you close to him, simply waiting for your answer.

Yet, for the moment, you were at a loss of words. Not only by what the god of mischief said. But what you realised and was constantly reminded of when being pressed against him. You'd never needed to crane your neck, nor did Loki need to bend down for the matter, to look each other in the eye.

"B-but how can I have all that?" Your voice was small as the question nearly trembled from your lips.

"Midgard is so harsh and stale that it does not care about anything more than looks. One needs to find softness and in order to do that, one needs to look further than the surface. If people simply choose to do that, they would find so many more like you", the flutter travelled further and further from your chest. Slowly like molasses, the doubt dripped off of your bones for butterflies to instead settle on them. But the dark and sticky liquid stubbornly didn't want to withdraw completely.

"Earth may be like that, Loki, but you aren't from here", you began, fingers twitching against the Asgardian attire, his signum, that he still wore. "You've told me how beautiful the eternal world is, so I know your standard of beauty, like so many other things, are so much higher than mine and everyone else's".

"Asgard is filled with beauty", the raven-haired god nodded, a smirk tugging the side of his mouth. For some reason, it made those butterflies feel like they drowned in the molasses. Because what else than far greater memories than what he's created with you could accompany such a gesture? Apparently, something entirely else, you realised as he continued. "Yet you, my darling, wouldn't fit there because your beauty out-shines all of what already exists. And do you know why none can see this? Because no-one can watch the sun for too long before getting burned".

"But you still do you", you stated incredulously. Thus why, if using Loki's own words, would he do something that hurt him. However, being ever the observant person he was, he caught your doubt. Which made him shake his head and chuckle.

"You seem to forget I am a god, no mere human or simple Asgardian", directly after he stated thus, Loki did something that made you squeal, in both surprise and worry.

His arms tightened around your waist and lifted you, high enough your feet dangled off the floor and your face was a few inches above his. You almost panicked, imagining you were too heavy for him, but you didn't find anything that displayed such strain in his face. And then any caution disappeared as he twirled you around.

A giggle fell from your lips as you felt the air around you shift with Loki's action. You felt light when nearly all thoughts from earlier seemingly were flung out of your mind and even stayed away when he gently set you down again. His firm chest still pressed into your soft one.

"Just think about it, darling, you need a god to love you for someone to find your true beauty. Does not that show how worthy of love you are if no other person can stand beside you and call you theirs", your smile didn't die down this time as you gazed at him.

"I suppose I must agree with said god", you didn't get more time to witness his smirk turn into a smile before his head tilted forward and his forehead came to rest against yours.

"You never must, but oh how honoured I would be if you did".

[peralta-guaranteed]

i randomly remembered when enzo broke his arm around a year ago, i know it sounds mean but could you possibly do one of mac/maya doing the same (nothing major to cause it)

"It's okay." Amy hears herself repeat the phrase for probably the hundredth time now. "It's okay." It's probably supposed to calm them all down, all three adults and one little crying, screaming boy in the car, but it's barely working.

"It's not!" Jake hisses into her direction, the fear and panic and worry in his eyes more than obvious as he clutches Mac's head against his shoulder some more, tightens the grip around his back.

"It's gonna be, though." Rosa says from the driver's seat in front - she was clearly the calmest of all of them after what happened, so she'd grabbed Amy's purse, pulled their car keys out of it, and then pushed all three of them into the backseat before starting the car. And now she was making her way to the emergency wing of the hospital at about 15mp/h higher than allowed in the inner city. "The arm's broken, but not in a bad way. It's gonna heal."

"How can a bone break in a good way?" Asks the man who once stated that as long as his blood was still inside him, things were obviously good. Mac starts wailing a little louder in his arms.

"You're stressing him out." Rosa states, matter-of-fact, before slowing down just a little before a right turn so the kid in Jake's arms doesn't get jostled too much.

"It hurt." Mac sniffles and looks over at Amy with the reddest, most tear-filled eyes she's ever seen, and it takes a lot not to cry with him.

"It's gonna be okay, peanut. The doctors like uncle Jorge are going to fix it." She tries to calm him, and maybe Jake a little bit, who nods and scratches through Mac's hair like he does when he's trying to lull him into sleep.

-*-

They make it to the emergency room in record time, frankly, and if Rosa's rushed past some traffic lights and speed radars, Amy's not going to complain once the tickets come in the mail.

A bored-looking nurse informs them that there’s only enough space for one parent in the room during the x-ray and the cast and treatment, and Jake wants to debate for the first time in his life, because that’s obviously bullshit, but Amy puts a hand on his arm and then lifts Mac out of them.

“Sit with Rosa”, she says in that voice she’s started using after Mac, that mom-voice that’s always right, “Calm down, and we’ll be back before you know it. And it’s all going to be fine.”

She’s off with the crying toddler and nurse before Jake can really protest, and Rosa is already sitting in a corner of the waiting area, so he drops down next to her instead and buries his head in his hands.

“Dude, you’re blowing this out of proportion. Kids hurt themselves all the time. He’s gonna bounce back like always.”

“I broke his arm, Rosa.”

There’s a beat of silence between them as the weight of that statement settles. Rosa gives up her nonchalant pose to lean forward as well, trying to get into Jake’s field of vision, but it’s kinda hard when he’s staring down onto the floor.

“You did not.” She hisses. “Jake, you didn’t. He fell. He was climbing. It happens.”

“I helped him up on that tower, he’s too little for it-”

“It’s on the playground, he was gonna go for it eventually-”

“I was right next to him-”

“So were Amy and I-”

“You were talking-”

“So at least you were paying better attention-”

“I coulda grabbed him, I shoulda-”

“You did what you could, immediately and without question. It’s not your fault the kid drops faster than a cannonball.” Rosa ends their little squabble, and the old lady across them lets out a little harrumph, but Rosa shoots her the deadliest glare she can muster, which means a lot. “You were over there in a flash, Jake, I’ve never seen you move so fast.”

“Wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t good enough.” He mumbles into his hands, rubbing across his face and his hair that’s already a mess. Rosa watches him for a moment, and calculates. Pieces together the evidence, like she does as a detective, and comes to a solution that most people probably won’t like, but those usually get her results.

“Do you want to leave?” She asks, and he looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “Amy’s got it under control, she told you. It’s probably gonna take a while, anyway, we can dip out for a drink to calm down and come back and they’ll be none the wiser.”

“Are you insane?!” Jake hisses back now, giving her exactly the reaction she’d expected. “I’m not going to leave my son in the hospital to go to a bar-”

He stops and stares at her, and it seems like his own detective brain is finally catching up with his panicked dad brain, because he sees what she’s doing. So she nods.

“You’re still good. You’re still better.” She says, and they don’t need to mention who he’s better than. It was the first of his stories that he told her, after he hurt something in his wrist at the academy - how that wrist never really healed right anyway, not since he was 5 and Bobby Linder drove over it with his tricycle by accident and his mom had to rush him to the hospital and his dad asked ‘what is that?’ with beer on his breath when he showed him the cast later. They’d known each other for barely a month back then, and Rosa was still refusing to think of anyone as her friend, but the way he’d looked at his wrist in its bandage and smiled the most broken smile she’d ever seen had set something off in her head. Something that yelled Protect at her every time he mentioned his dad later, something that made her threaten Roger Peralta with one of her knives after their graduation when Jake was in the bathroom ‘real quick’, but she knew he was hiding in there so no one could see his hands shake. Good thing Rosa never gave a damn about going into the men’s toilets anyway, because she sure as hell went after him when Roger had dipped out as usual.

She watches Jake’s tense shoulders drop with another sigh.

“Being better doesn’t make me good. That bar is set so fucking low.”

“I’m not having this entire discussion with you again, Peralta. We’ve been through this way too many times anyway. You. are. a. good. dad. One accident doesn’t change that.”

“Okay.” He nods, and she can tell he’s trying to imprint her words into his brain, so she continues.

“Mac’s going to hurt himself, and others are going to hurt him, and things are gonna go bad sometimes. You’ll probably be back here in the hospital a few times, considering how much he seems to love danger. And it’s going to be okay, just like Amy said, because you’re going to be there, and you’ll help him through it, and take care of him while he heals.”

“Yeah.” He nods again, and Rosa leans closer to him some more, and finally gets into his field of vision.

“And you’re not going to even think, for one second, that you could be anywhere as bad of a father as that piece of shit. And you’re not going to believe, whatever anyone says, that Mac doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you as a dad.”

He nods a third time, and she remembers how he jokingly told her once, after a few drinks, that the little screaming voice of conscience in his head always alternates between either Amy’s voice or her voice. She hopes she’s given him some new tracks to replay if he needs to.

“Thank you, Rosa.” He says, and leans back in the most uncomfortable chair either of them have sat in, and they’ve both been to prison. He tilts over when she leans back too, lands his head on her shoulder, and she doesn’t shrug him off for once. She can have a soft spot for the Santiago-Peraltas when no one else is there to see, she supposes.

“You looked like you wanted to punch out that nurse.” She says with a quick grin, and hears him snort.

“Was thinking about it. Not enough space for two parents, what kind of bullshit is that?!”

“You couldn’t throw a proper punch anyway.”

“Hey, I know how to hit people. I trained to do it just as much as you.”

They share a giggle as the exhaustion and stress of the last hour flows out of them, and the old lady across them seems mildly shocked rather than annoyed by now, but who cares.

-*-

Amy comes back with Mac in her arms an hour later, and they’re both all smiles. Mac sports an impressive new sticker collection on his shirt, and a lollipop that’s painting his lips orange. (Amy’s have a slight tint to them as well.)

The cast on his arm is bright green, and he carefully lifts it to show Jake as he switches from his Mama’s arms into his. (Jake had jumped up from his chair so fast he almost threw Rosa, who was also getting up, to the ground.)

“Like ninja!” he says around the lollipop, and Amy wipes a bit of spit away before it can drop on Jake’s shirt.

“Yeah, just like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, buddy.” Jake nods because of course he understands his kid’s train of thought better than anyone else, and kisses Mac’s temple, stays there a second longer for that perfect toddler scent, even as it’s mixed with hospital disinfectant and playground mud.

“Look, RoRo!” Mac yells into his ear and leans over to show Rosa as well. “Turtle shell!”

“That’s pretty cool, dude.” Aunt RoRo answers as she inspects the cast to see if it’s well done or if she has to go back there and punch out a nurse herself. “Let’s get you three home.” She says after concluding that the cast is acceptable enough to let the poor hospital workers alone.

-*-

She was planning to drop them off, park their car and then head for the precinct where her bike is waiting for her, but Amy invited her up for some coffee for ‘her nerves’, and Jake offered dinner as a thanks, and Mac absolutely needed to show her the new toy he got in that package from abuela, and then suddenly she’s on a playmat on the floor for an hour after Chinese takeout and pretending to be a Ninja Tortoise or whatever. That soft spot is gonna be more trouble than it’s worth, she thinks for a second before Mac smiles at her as his Jedi figure shoots lasers at her turtle doll, and immediately realises it’s worth so much more than any trouble. Mac looks at his cast a little worried, whenever he thinks no one is watching him, and god, could he be any more like his dad? At least she and Amy already have a good instructions booklet on how to handle him, in that case.

“That green cast is pretty cool.” She says when she catches him look once more. “But you know what would make it even cooler? Drawings.”

“Drawies? On my arm?”

“Yeah, buddy. We can draw on it with a sharpie.”

He’s up and running to Amy, asking for a sharpie, in no time at all and yep, he is just as easily distracted as his dad. Mac grins wide and unworried now as he climbs on Jake’s lap on the couch, asks Amy to draw something when she returns with a set of markers, calls Rosa over to draw something too.

Amy does a little bear, his favourite animal at the moment. Rosa does a rocket ship and a pirate ship, the two best ships in the world, as they both agree. Jake does a Ninja Turtle cartoon face yelling PIZZA!, which is obviously Mac’s absolute favourite the moment it’s done.

When Jake wants to cap the Sharpie after his work of art, Mac grabs his hand and pulls it back down. “Steady, peanut. Don’t wanna scribble over Aunt RoRo’s cool ship, right?” He says with a grin over to her as she rolls her eyes. Mac’s already tried to cover several walls, most of his storytime books, and the kitchen table with his drawings as soon as he’s handed any sort of writing tool, so Jake won’t let go of the marker just to be safe, but he does let Mac’s little hand guide his big one as he makes him draw a wonky heart, right on the cast over the back of his hand, and then places a kiss on the same place on Jake’s hand.

You’re not going to believe, whatever anyone says, that Mac doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you as a dad the little Rosa voice in Jake’s head repeats as he smiles at her, and she actually smiles back.

[aprilsrant]

Honey Honey! | Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

PAIRING: oliver wood x slytherin!fem!reader.

SUMMARY: (Y/N)’s friend takes his plan one step further, determined to get the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and the overthinker slytherin together. 

WORD COUNT: 2,032.

PREVIOUS PART: Lay all your love on me.

NEXT PART: When I kissed the teacher. 

REQUEST: literally one person asked for a part two and I had to do it. I have in mind another part, and possibly last one, so if anyone is interested let me know!

WARNINGS: I don’t think so.

A/N: Please remember English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes, you can always correct me and I’ll fix it. And yes, the title is another ABBA song because why not? 

I still can’t believe the first part got like 150 notes. Thank you so much! 

Masterlist.

Gif below it’s not mind, credits to the person who made it.

Three days after the party in the Ravenclaw Common Room, that same one in which she almost killed one of her best friends, the unexpected happened.

His mouth lifted in a grin, white teeth showing, eyes sparkling with excitement and, at the same time, craziness; Dorian, the one who barely escaped his early death, sat beside them, leaning his body on the big root of a tree near the Black Lake, orange and brown leafs beneath him. The other tree exchanged glances. 

The afternoon was about to take an interesting turn. It’s not like he was never happy, but this particular kind of happiness came with blaring red lights, screaming and alerting everyone close enough.

Silently agreeing to ignore the boy’s strange, but not new, behaviour, (Y/N), Isla and Ethan kept working on their assignments. Before any of them could write something on the pieces of parchment, Dorian fakely cleared his throat. None of them looked at him, suppressed smiles on their faces.

(Y/N) had finished writing a sentence for her Charms essay when he tried to catch his friend’s attention again. But now using a different strategy. After the third long sigh that left his mouth, Isla, with lips pressed in a thin line, finally turned her head in his direction.

“Yes, Dorian?,” she said. Her harsh tone rivaling Professor McGonagall’s. 

In an impossible way, his grin grew larger, resembling the Cheshire Cat from the classic Alice in Wonderland. Dorian fixed his position, making himself more comfortable against the root, legs stretching (a few inches away from Ethan’s ink bottle), eyes closed and fingers gently hitting each other, taking that typical stance of someone who’s planning something. 

“What is it?,” asked Ethan impatiently.

“I come here bearing good news, no, excellent news and you treat me like this?” Always the exaggerated, Dorian feigned a hurt expression, right hand going to his chest and grabbing the part where his heart was placed.

Having enough of his games, (Y/N), who wanted nothing more to finish her paper and take a nap before dinner, decided to step into the conversation. “What excellent news?”

Dorian dropped the wounded act and smiled at her, glaring at the others as if he was saying ‘this is what good friends are supposed to be like’. He changed his posture once more —he really couldn’t stay still—, now sitting closer to them with his legs crossed, hands playing with one of the chocolate sweets Ethan had been trying to transform. The corner of his mouth never lowered. 

“Nice to hear you’re interested, my dearest (Y/N), because this concerns you directly.” She regretted ever asking him the minute that answer rolled from his mouth and his dark brown, almost black, eyes shined with mischief. Ethan’s and Isla’s confusion showed through their faces. “I just, like just, saw you know who and he,” Dorian stopped talking when he saw his friend’s disturbed expression. Rolling his eyes —how could they be that dumb?—, he explained. “Not that You-Know-Who, the other one… Ugh, I’m talking about Oliver Wood.” 

Their mouths took the shape of an O, realisation finally coming to them.

“He asked me what day you would be free to tutor him, so now, thanks to me, you have a date with Oliver this Saturday morning.”

(Y/N) and the other two stared at him. While Isla and Ethan broke into a fit of thrilled laughs and big smiles, high-fiving Dorian for his “work”, she was trying to control her anger and the words —the majority of them being insults— ready to leave her throat.  

Why was he so keen on her and Oliver being together? Why couldn’t they understand that she was not the kind of person who would act on her feelings? 

Yes, she had made it obvious that she liked the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, but that didn’t mean she wanted to do something about it. She had always been awkward and, of course, situations with strangers (did she consider him one?) tended to go that way. The girl knew that if something, anything, went wrong with him she would overthink nonstop.  

Saying nothing, (Y/N) quickly grabbed her things —a dark blue bag with white dots forming the constellations, the parchment on top of it and the quill on her hand—, stood up and left with a quick step carrying her body, ignoring her friends screaming her name to come back from near the Black Lake’s shore. 

Entering the castle, bustling with cheerful students making their way outside to enjoy the warm and sunny afternoon, she decided this was the perfect moment to take that much needed nap, even if she hadn’t finished her assignment yet. 

The Slytherin was walking down one of the corridors, this one less transitaded, when she saw the particular crimson fabric of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team’s robes. She lowered her head, hoping it was one of the Chasers or any other member that wasn’t him.

Noticing the person wearing the uniform passed right beside her and didn’t say anything, she sighed in relief.

“(Y/N)?” said a disembodied and sweet voice from behind her. Even if she couldn’t actually see the person calling her name, she knew perfectly who it belonged to. 

Bloody hell.

Before turning around to face him, she closed her eyes, preparing herself. She’d never mind his presence, or him calling for her —hell, (Y/N) dreamed of that happening every now and then—, but now was definitely the wrong time for this. She was angry with Dorian for trying to set her up, exhausted from not being able to get used to the routine again and annoyed because of the amount of homework. 

Finding his black shoes extremely interesting and intriguing, she murmured a small response.

“Fancy to see you here, I’ve been trying to talk to you since the party but I didn’t want to bother you in class, you always look so focused on the lessons, and with Quidditch practices I couldn’t find you in your free time,” Oliver continued. He had been trying to reach her? Her? “I found Dorian instead and he said you were free to tutor me on Saturday morning. If you can’t or don’t want to or whatever, you don’t have to. I know I should have talked to you first, but I didn’t see you anywhere and I was getting desperate because I can’t lose this opportunity and… and I’m rambling a lot, sorry.” He stopped tapping his thumb against his broomstick’s handle.

All at once, the feeling, more like an intuition, that he could be nervous around her engulfed (Y/N), spreading a warm sensation through her body. 

She wanted to say no, even when this was the chance she’d wanted for too long but (Y/N) knew herself. The endless overthinking that she’ll have to endure before, during and after their “study date” —what if she was a horrible tutor?; what if he didn’t understand anything she’d said?; what if she wasn’t good enough?; what if he never wanted to speak to her again after it?; what if he failed and blamed it on her?; what if all this was a big and cruel joke?, would he do that to her, to anyone?—.

She really did want to say no, but how could she when he looked like that? Upper lip biting nervously on the bottom one, his cheeks of a rosy colour, constantly shifting his body’s weight, fingers fidgeting. 

“I, um, of course, no problem,” she assured. 

Why did she have to be such a people pleaser? 

And why did she have to like him so much that when he smiled, relieved because of the answer, her heart stopped for a second and her stomach turned upside down?

|||

(Y/N) was sure Oliver had never wanted to revise Transformation so early on a Saturday, especially when his team was just a few hours away from playing their first Quidditch match of the season. She wasn’t so thrilled either, weekends were the only days she had to sleep till lunch, her roommates knowing that waking her up before one in the afternoon would lead to a pissed (Y/N) and no one liked that version of herself.

“Look, we can reschedule if you want,” she said after watching him fail once more at conjuring birds from the tip of his wand, “you are worried about the match and that’s making it impossible for you to focus on this.”

The Gryffindor glanced at her through his eyelashes, a frustrated look in his eyes —(Y/N) couldn’t figure out if it was because he was losing his time here with her while he could be training with his team one last time or because the only thing coming out of his wand were yellow feathers—. 

Running both hands across his face, he replied, “I-I don’t want you to waste your time, but I suck at Transfiguration and we haven’t even started with Potions, which is worse, and you make it seem so easy because you’re amazing at this. But I’m not and Professor MgGonagall said that if…”.

For someone who had a brave and confident exterior, Oliver Wood did ramble quite a lot.

“I know what MgGonagall said,” (Y/N) interrupted, choosing to ignore the part where he complimented her, “and you are not wasting my time, Oliver. I agreed to help you, remember?” He nodded his head slowly, watching his hands. (Y/N) thought he looked like a kid getting reprimanded. “Now, try one more time.”

And one more time he failed, yellow canary feathers falling down to the floor,  joining Oliver’s past attempts at mastering the Bird-Conjuring Charm. 

She saw him scratch his forehead with his eyes closed and lips barely visible because of the way he was biting on them. 

“You’re not doing the correct hand movement, I think that’s why it isn’t working,” (Y/N) noticed, “look, give me your hand.” She grabbed his right hand, the one holding his wand, delicately, fingers barely touching the skin. Taking his wrist and positioning herself on Oliver’s side, she showed him how to do accurate motion. “And you just say Avis.”

The next time he did the incantation, a loud blast, pretty much like the sound of a gun being fired, resonated throughout the place. Once the smoke dissipated, several yellow birds flew from the tip of his wand to the empty classroom they were practising in. Twittering and chirping filled the room, but as quickly as they did, they became background noise when Oliver let out a loud laugh at his achievement. 

He turned around, a big grin on his face and brightness in his eyes, now a completely different person. She smiled at him, his excitement starting to feel contagious.

“See, you don’t have to be so hard on yourself,” (Y/N) murmured. If only she’d take her own advice. “I think you’re good to go and-and do whatever you do before a Quidditch match.”

“Thank you, for agreeing to this.”

She shook her head, the corners of her mouth slightly going up. “No problem.”

Oliver walked towards the door and before he opened it, the boy asked, “will I see you at the match?”

“Maybe.”

“Nice, it’ll be good to see you there,” he’d smiled at her one last time and left the unused classroom. 

Biting down the nail on her thumb, (Y/N) let out a silly giggle, one of those that only escape people’s mouth when they are drunk or can’t get that one person out of their minds. Perhaps she was reading into this situation the wrong way, but for just a tiny moment she didn’t care. She enjoyed the warm feeling on her stomach, as if a ton of thestrals had suddenly decided to fly across it, and the erratic pace of her heart every time Oliver would glance at her or say anything remotely kind. 

Then the realisation came and with it, tangled like some kind of broken and dark creature, her severely damaged pride. She had to admit to Dorian’s face that he was, in fact, correct and that his ridiculous plan may actually work.

TAGS: @peeves-a-legend​ (amazing person and writer, read all of her work!).

[haileyyanneupton]

fairytale 🧚‍♂️ 🪄

in which Hailey realises that maybe — just maybe — love isn’t a complete scam after all. 

upstead oneshot (hailey upton x jay halstead)

warnings: mention of sexual assault

masterlist | series masterlist 

Hailey had always found it disgustingly cheesy when the books she would read would describe falling in love as something that happened "hard and fast." She just didn't believe in it. Maybe it was because she had never really been in love — at least not in the way that the fairytales made it out to be — or maybe it was just some ploy to set every little girl's expectations far, far too high.

They were sitting in his car one day, checking out a suspect that looked good for a double homicide when it happened. He had made some stupid joke and of course, Jay being Jay had cracked up laughing at his own sense of humor. It wasn't the joke that made her fall, but the way his eyes lit up in amusement and happiness — genuine happiness too, not that knock off shit. It was the way his head turned to face Hailey without any hesitation to see if she was laughing too; the way to him, she was the only person that mattered. It left her a feeling little winded and a little bit like she was floating, but she didn't mind. Right there, in the passenger seat of his car with binoculars in her hand is where she realised that sometimes, with the right person, you could indeed fall hard, and you could fall fast. The first time she met him, it was no secret to anybody that she wasn't too fond or Mr Jay Halstead to say the least. He had that cocky smile that could piss her off to no end, but what bothered her most was just how hard it was to hate him. She'd be lying if she said she didn't have a vendetta against attractive detectives in the CPD — every time she had allowed herself to like them, even if it were just platonically, she'd always wind up getting hurt. That was why she tried to keep her distance from Jay to begin with — but alas, just as fate would have it, Erin's unexpected departure had left Hailey partnered with the detective she had told herself she would stay away from at all costs. Her painted hatred didn't last long. After even just their first proper shift together, Hailey found herself bending over backwards to make her new partner's life a little bit easier after a case they had been working had gone sideways, Jay's 9mm behind the death of a young girl that had hit him pretty hard. She managed to get a read on him right away — he was so scared, so broken — even Hailey knew that the unfortunate ending to a case had to be just the tip of the iceberg. She wasn't going to fix him — that wasn't her job — but she was going to fight like hell until he could do it himself. She knew what it was like to be there, she remembered how awful it felt; she wouldn't wish it upon anybody, much less her partner who she was becoming strangely fond of with each passing moment. Their first few months working together flew by, but that didn't mean that it had been uneventful. Hailey and Jay had grown close relatively quickly, their personalities gelling together like no other. It was nice to know that someone had your back, but for Hailey, who had somewhat left an entire life behind her when she joined intelligence, their first major challenge as partners came when Ronald Booth inserted himself back into the scene. Really, she knew that she should have expected Jay to do what he had and dig up all that he could find on Booth the second he got a whiff that something had gone on between him and Hailey, but alas; all she wanted was to be seen as who she had worked her entire life to become. Someone who was strong, independent — not someone who allowed themselves to be taken advantage of, someone who ended up in the hospital because she couldn't fight off some old guy. When her stubbornness had reared its head and landed both her and Jay back in Booth's warehouse for a last ditch attempt at undermining him, things turned ugly — and fast. It all happened so fast. One moment, they were about to make the exchange — the next, she was being shoved into a car door while being checked for a wire. His hands against her — god, she could still feel his dirty, disgusting touch from that New Years Eve party like it was yesterday. She had gotten so close to forgetting, so close to pushing it down just far enough so that she wouldn't have to think about it, but when he ran his hands up and down her legs and groped her with such a hunger that her breath hitched in her throat and bile rose, burning her oesophagus and leaving a bad taste in her mouth, she simply couldn't forget. She almost let herself slip back to that night — him on top of her, his weight enough to keep her from moving — but the sound of Jay's voice behind her kept her anchored right where she was as she breathed through it. One more second, and it's over. That's all. Just one more second. "Come on, man. You don't gotta do it like that." There was silence for a moment. You know the kind. The kind that fills the air in the eye of a storm, right before everything goes from bad to worse. Still, no matter how prepared you are for everything to turn to shit again — it's never really ever enough. "Gun! He's got a gun!" "I don't have a gun, man —" she could hear the panic in Jay's voice. "Take it easy! I don't have a gun!" "Back it up!" "I don't have a gun!" Booth was distracted. His hands were still on her, but his grip had loosened. His hand was resting on her hip now rather than grabbing it, and with his attention diverted to the situation unfolding behind them, she took her chance and ran with it. Her elbow collided with his nose as she twisted his arm back in a shape that arms were definitely not meant to go in, a distinct crack echoing through the air for a split second before the sound of two much louder pops overpowered it. She had pulled the trigger faster than she had been able to process, and before she knew it, Tyler had hit the ground and was gasping for air he wouldn't get no matter how hard he tried. Hailey couldn't even turn around before Booth was gone — but she wasn't about to let him get away that easy. He found her before she found him, which was definitely not the way she wanted it to go. Her back hit the wall first, followed by her head hitting the railing of a staircase as he threw her around like a ragdoll. What infuriated her more than anything was how easy it was for him to do it, her body hitting different corners of each stair as she fell down them. Hailey's legs were flailing around methodically, aiming for all of the weak spots as she tried everything she had been taught (and a bit more) to get the upper hand. Finally, she regained her footing, but it wasn't long before he had her by the shoulders and was slamming her up against every wall he could find yet again. Bang. "I knew you were a cop!" Booth growled dangerously, his tone venomous with fury. "I just didn't want to believe it!" Bang.

"Believe it!" With a quick and smooth movement, she finally had some kind of control as she took the position of the slammer, and not the slammee. She was so angry, the adrenaline rushing through her veins so quickly that she threw punch after punch without feeling a thing, a small smirk curling the corners of her lips upwards as it was Booth's turn for a little trip down the stairs. He was halfway unconscious by this point, but she didn't care — he was right where she wanted him now. "Admit you killed Garrett!" Booth smiled a sick grin as he let out a hearty laugh that made Hailey nauseous. "You'll never find him." She felt the anger and white hot, blinding rage bubbling up inside of her, choking her, clawing at her throat as she held the gun to Booth's face. She would never forget the feeling of her finger brushing up against the temptation of the trigger over and over and over again, or the myriad of thoughts rushing through her head. One squeeze of the trigger, and he's gone, Hailey. You could end this right here, right now. Garrett. What about Garrett? Booth is the only one who knows where Garrett is, Hailey — don't kill him! But he's right here, and the gun. . . it's right here in my hands and —

"Hailey!" Jay's voice started out loud, but faded into a whisper. "Hailey. Hailey." Her breathing was heavy, and even though his voice had snapped her out of whatever rage she was in, part of her wanted to jump right back into it and finish the job. Hailey's blue eyes were trained on Booth like it was life or death, never flicking away from the man for even a second. "Hailey —" Jay tried to coax his partner this time; he knew if this continued on the way it looked like it was going to, things wouldn't end well.  "He wins if you do it. This is not how you beat this." His hand was on her shoulder, following the rapid rising and falling of her chest as she held the gun firmly in place. her fingers were trembling but she showed no fear, a ferocious, burning flame in her eyes. She was not done yet. She wasn't. "Please, Hailey, please." He was desperate now; she could tell by the way his grip tightened ever so slightly at the same time that his voice changed. "Please. This is not the way. You — You gotta trust me." It was the pleading that struck her hard enough to really realise what she was doing. It was the pleading that gave her the strength to fight against the rage and finally swing her right leg off of the scum beneath her and growl at him to get up, the sight of him struggling providing her with a secret, visceral pleasure that she would never be able to explain. But when he sat up a bit too quickly for Hailey's liking, the woman deciding that the awful man hadn't suffered quite enough yet, her boot collided with his face one last time before walking her right out of the stairwell. If she stayed, she knew one person would be coming out in a body bag and the other in handcuffs.  She had a feeling she knew which she would be in.

Jay and Hailey's relationship shifted after that night, but neither of them viewed it as a bad thing. There was something about trauma and tragedy that tends to bring people together in some bittersweet way, and despite the fact that they each had their own perspective of what had happened in that warehouse, both of them knew that without the other, things could have ended much worse. It was soon after that that their 'thing' started. Drinks at whichever bar was closest quickly became a regular occurrence, but during the summertime when the crowds got a bit too crowded for either of their liking, they found themselves more and more often bypassing the bar all together by picking up a 6 pack of beer and retiring back to one of their apartments instead. 

After a few times, Jay had compiled a bunch of clothes that he either did wear anymore or that no longer fit him and had left them folded up in the dresser of the guest bedroom for Hailey, who frequently would crash in her partner's guest room after a long night. She secretly loved the scent of his cologne on the neckline of his hoodies that she'd sleep in, though she'd never admit it to her or anybody else — especially once she noticed how much better she slept when she had one on.  

Fast forward a few months, and that's when it happened. That was when her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach from the realisation of what had just happened in a matter of seconds as she sunk back down in her seat ever so slightly, her brain screaming with a million different emotions. She had been quick to mask it, turning her head to look out the window until before she knew it, she was looking back at the dark haired man so intensely that she thought if she looked away for even a second, he'd disappear. Looking turned into kissing, and kissing turned into a personal hour which lead to a little bit more. The whole time though, in amongst everything else, one thought stuck out more than the rest. 

This is your fairytale, Hailey, she thought. This right here is your happy ending. It's him.

a/n: sorry it’s not very long, and that the ending reads kind of rushed, but i’m actually sorta proud of this one aaaa???? i hope you all like it!! might do a part two 👀 

tagging: @ruzek-halstead @detective-buttercup @lissethsrojas @justanotheronechicagofan​ did y’all ask to get tagged? no but i’m tagging y’all anyway bc i value each and every one of u and my tags are reserved for awesome ppl only so 🥰