#silent unless spoken to and even then he is more of a reflection than an actual being

[lightyaoigami]

If you have to choose your favorites 5 scene/dialogue in Those, what would it be?

amazing question. i will not be including 'my doctor doesn't even consider me a smoker' because that's everyone's favorite already.

one

"When I first saw you at the funeral, I thought you'd be the same. Yet another of The Lady's beautiful court jesters. It surprises me when I'm wrong." "I'm glad that I obliged." "You haven't obliged me with anything yet. This dinner doesn't count." "You're a fast worker but I'm faster. We could have skipped this shit, you know? There's no need for dinner and candlelight at our age. And, y'know, neither of us is wearing a dress." "I wanted to speak with you," he says thoughtfully, following it up with a more cheerful: "And get you out of your clothes, but that goes without saying." "We could have done both of those things at your place." "No, I'd like to understand you." Something about his personality has changed. He's much more softly spoken and pure sounding, which worries me. The dreamy quality of his voice makes me feel pensive and angry, so I reach forward suddenly and pour myself another glass of wine. "I don't want to be understood. To be understood would make me dead."

two

I remember once when, back in the day, I went to a party. It was house party but it was in a really big house. We had to wear masks, so it was one of those parties. I wore a skull mask; a white skull. L was an abstract crow or something. He saw me just as I saw him and we knew. Couldn't see each other's faces, but we knew. That was a good night. Anyway, he didn't know that I was going to be there and I didn't know that he was going, so we were strangers. Only we knew. Point is, if I wasn't there, he would have found someone else. Someone less.

three

"I don't know, but it looks very important from where I'm standing." "Stand somewhere else then." My consistent smile parts my lips when I take a few long steps towards him until we're only inches apart. Well, I can't really see his suit anymore, which is what he wanted. "Like, here?" I ask. His panic is practically another person between us and he drops his briefcase, so this tactic must have been perfectly balanced and executed. I congratulate myself as I kneel down to pick it up to deliver the killing stroke. "I'll get it," he says hurriedly. "It's no problem," I say, smiling up at him in my most winning way. This is a tried and tested method and he out of everyone was a complete sucker for it, always. I grab the handle of his case with one hand and hold onto his leg with the other. For support, obviously. When I stand again, I can almost see the gleam in my eye reflected in his face. While he's apparently unable to move, I lean forward and breathe in over his neck, but I don't touch him until my face is so close to his that our noses barely glance and slide off each other. He sucks in air when I lick his cheek lightly with the tip of my tongue. He's dying inside. His poor eyes can't lie. "You know, you really should be more careful," I tell him, and tilt my face slightly so my lips hovers over his in some worshipping adoration. He pants softly, swallows and his eyes grow heavy as he looks at me, but I won't do anything unless he gives me a sign. An almost silent "Oh fuck" catches in his throat as he stares at me, and I drop his suitcase to the floor again. Hallelujah.

four

"Light, I'm not going to say this again until the next time you leave your wife for me, because you'll get bored of it, but you're the best person I've ever met and I'm proud of you. Of what you've done, despite what I might have said in the past, because I'm a liar and I was lying before. And I love you." Oh. I'm more stunned by how he says it than what he actually says and I don't know what to say, so I stuff something that I hope is only a slimy, battered carrot into my mouth instead, and it's revolting. Once I've finished chewing, I talk down to my plate. "It's really hard to cut spring onions all slanty like." "It looks like a forty-five degree angle." "It is." "Well done."

five

So, picture the scene. I was on my way to the door wearing one of my less good suits. That doesn't matter, but I think that it expresses something about my state of mind and health. But I didn't make it as far as the door. I was overwhelmed by a sudden sickness, ran to the bathroom and threw up my guts into the toilet until my throat burned and I nearly passed out. It was like how people describe botulism, only worse. Those bastards don't know how I suffered. Anyway, Kiyomi found me dying on the bathroom floor, and I remember it in the same daze I experienced then. L wasn't in my mind at the time because all I could think of was trying to find some way to stop feeling as terrible as I did. My mind was empty like the rest of me was, so I just lay on my side and hoped that it would pass. Some unprecedented disaster had happened and I was powerless to do anything.

bonus from i know the way it ends

"Your face was almost golden because of the lights everywhere. Remember the gold coin neon lights over the casino? The lights made you look like you were gilded. I've only seen you look at me like you did then a few times, but you were beautiful, I thought my heart would burst, I… Palpitations from all the coffee, probably but… yeah."

[bunnysnuff]

The quietness between us.

Pairing: Charlie spring x mtf!reader (sibling), Tori Spring x mtf!reader (sibling).

Trigger warnings; emotional withdrawal and detachment.

Request.

The house was quiet, save for the faint murmur of voices drifting from the kitchen where Charlie and Tori were having one of their usual hushed conversations. You sat perched on the windowsill in your room, knees drawn up to your chest, staring blankly out at the rain as it traced lines down the glass. The pale gray sky above felt like a reflection of the way you existed in the world: distant, muted, and detached, as if everything outside of you were just a vague dream that you floated through without truly belonging to.

Your room was still, wrapped in shadows that matched the overcast afternoon. The posters on the walls, the stack of books on your desk, even the soft cushions around you—it all felt like it belonged to someone else. Like you were a guest in your own space. You could hear the quiet tick of the clock on the wall, but even that seemed far away, as if it ticked in a different dimension from the one you occupied.

You didn’t hear Charlie knock at first. It was only the gentle creak of the door that brought you back to the present. He stepped in carefully, his movements deliberate, like he didn’t want to disturb the fragile calm of your world. Charlie had always been that way with you—gentle, quiet, aware of the way you often disappeared into yourself. Tori followed behind him, a silent figure as usual, her dark eyes studying you in that way she always did, as if she were trying to solve some deep mystery.

"Hey," Charlie said softly, his voice a tentative ripple in the silence. "You’ve been up here for a while... I just wanted to check on you."

You didn’t turn to face him right away. Your eyes were still fixed on the rain outside, watching the droplets slide down the windowpane like little rivers, endlessly moving but going nowhere. You felt him watching you, waiting, but not pushing. He never pushed.

"I’m fine," you said after a moment, though the words felt like someone else’s, as if they were being spoken through you rather than by you. You didn’t even know if they were true. Fine wasn’t something you could easily grasp.

Charlie didn’t move closer. He knew better than to invade your space when you were like this. Instead, he leaned against the wall by the door, his hands tucked into his pockets, his expression soft and understanding.

"We’re going to watch a movie later," he said, his tone light, like he was trying to coax you out without forcing you. "Thought maybe you’d want to come down. But no pressure. Just... if you feel like it."

The idea of sitting downstairs with them, surrounded by the warmth of their presence and the dull hum of a movie in the background, felt distant. Like it belonged to a different version of you, one who wasn’t so withdrawn, so spaced-out. But at the same time, there was a flicker of something—an understanding, maybe, that being around Charlie and Tori meant you didn’t have to perform. You didn’t have to explain or interact unless you wanted to. You could just be there, and that would be enough for them.

Tori, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke, her voice even and steady, the way it always was. "You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just come down whenever you feel like it."

She stood by the door, arms crossed, her gaze lingering on you like she was reading between the lines of something unsaid. Tori always knew when to give you space and when to pull you out of it, but today, she seemed to sense that you needed space more than anything else.

Your eyes flickered toward them for the briefest moment, catching Charlie’s hopeful, soft expression and Tori’s more restrained but still caring glance. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be with them, but sometimes the weight of being around others—even those who understood you better than anyone—felt like too much.

Charlie’s smile was soft but reassuring, as if to say, It’s okay. We’re not going anywhere. He lingered a little longer by the door, not saying anything, just being there, his presence a warm reminder that you weren’t alone, even if you felt like it.

Tori, on the other hand, stayed still, watching you with her usual quiet intensity. She didn’t smile, but there was a softness in her eyes that she reserved only for you and Charlie. She understood the way you withdrew into yourself, the way you sometimes needed to float outside of the world to cope with the way it pressed in on you. She got it in a way that few people ever did.

"You don’t have to decide right now," Charlie added, his voice gentle. "Just... we’ll be downstairs when you’re ready."

With that, they left the room, the door closing with a soft click behind them. For a few moments, the silence felt heavier, pressing in around you. The rain outside was still falling, the gray light filtering through the window, casting everything in a soft, muted glow.

You sat there for a while longer, your mind drifting again, but this time it felt a little less lonely. Knowing that Charlie and Tori were waiting downstairs, that they would understand whether you joined them or not—it gave you a sense of comfort. They never asked for more than you could give, and in that way, they made the world feel a little less heavy.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there before you finally stood up, your movements slow and deliberate, as if you were still half-asleep. But eventually, you found yourself heading downstairs, where you knew Charlie and Tori would be waiting—not asking, not pushing—just waiting for you to join them, whenever you were ready.

[katsukisday]

Sparks- Xiao 

Pairings: soldier!Xiao x Princess!reader 

Au: royal(?)!Au  

Genre: fluff, angst if you squint

Summary: in which Xiao thought he’s not cut for happiness, until a certain stubborn princess proves him wrong 

Warnings: Mentions of war, potential social isolation, unexpected pregnancy, bombs, intoxicating gases, unmentioned nudity if you squint  

W.C: 2.6k

A/n: I’ve had this idea setting on my desk since last DECEMBER so I thought I’d share <33 also not proof read please lmk abt any mistakes

Likes and reblogs are appreciated. 

 The smoke was alerting. 

 Unlike the carbon disulfide, which he loathed more than one should, it was clear of any color and had a rather pleasant odor to it. 

 The green haired male was so, so close to making a sprint for safety, to save himself from yet another week of no sleep, illness, and migraines. But soon he recalls what the head general, the kind brunette known as Zhongli, fed his ears a million times before they sent him into this place: “friend, not foe.” 

 The male took a deep breath; friend, not foe. 

 The process went agonizingly slow. They told Xiao they’ll get him ready for what they referred to as a ‘ball’. He wasn’t really sure what it was but his best guess was that some ball shaped food was awaiting him, although he could not process why he need to get dressed to meet food. 

 The male was well aware he wasn’t exactly in the best state before he came in, but why was rubbing his feet necessary if they were going to throw a pair of boots on them anyway?  He couldn’t make since of the use of all the powders and sticky liquids they were rubbing on his skin only to wash off a few moments later? It was a waste of the sweet-scented material in Xiao’s opinion. But he wasn’t here to imply his thoughts on these foreign items, that’s not his role and he will not be the man who meddles in other people’s jobs. Even on the rare occasions when he was asked which smell he preferred or if it was ‘too much’ Xiao remained silent; he will not speak unless his head general demands it. It’s always been this way. 

 After a tantrum of colors, the women dressing the male seemed pleased with the uncomfortable clothing they put him in. 

 Soon, he’s put in front of the reflective glass and he could barely contain his excitement over the sight before him. Xiao could not believe his eyes as a giddy grin made its way into the muscles of his cheeks. Sure, he’s seen himself in mirrors before, but he wouldn’t have recognized himself right now if it weren’t for the purple mark on his forehead and the peculiar shade of his hair. 

 Before he could express his gratitude towards the women who dressed him a few knocks came from the door, causing on of them to rush to it and open it with a few graceful moves. 

 The head general’s outfit was in fact very different from what Xiao was wearing, catching the latter’s interest; they’ve always worn similar uniforms with very few and specific design dissimilarities, so seeing Zhongli and himself dressed so differently is quite something. 

 Although Xiao would never bring it up, he was sure that the older man was plenty easier to recognize than himself, that with Zhongli always seeming to invest a lot of care into his appearance – to set a good example, Xiao presumed.  

 “Look at you,” the brunette started, his deep stern voice filling the room, “You look so clean and nice.”  “Thank you, General Lapis,” the younger male acquires, dipping his head gratefully. “So do you, sir.” 

 The young women couldn’t help their expressions, either amused or surprised at Xiao’s ignorance and blatancy, as Zhongli let out a light chuckle. 

 “Thank you, Xiao, I’m glad you think so,” he smiled at the now confused boy. “Shall we get going?”  “At your command, sir,” the forehead tatted male brushed the confusion off rather quickly. If not spoken about it does not matter, as he should not question the head general’s actions. 

  ---

 On their way to the grand hall the amber eyed general explained what a ball actually is, previously presuming Xiao would’ve been confused of it. He also Explained to him why it was held and how special he is, which was the reason he was invited to an event of such. 

  To be quite fair, Zhongli great respect towards the younger male, formerly known as Atlaus. He was born on the battlefield, given birth to by a female soldier who was foolish enough to never inform the heads about her pregnancy. She was supposed to be discharged with her baby but they were on foreign land and cargo wasn’t rare but impossible. And so, the green haired male, now referred to as Xiao, was raised on the frontline of battle, survived up till now by some miracle, and hadn’t known anything but it. 

 Before long, they stood by the hall’s enormous entrance. The door was flung by soldiers left and right. But of course it was, the life-sized hall behind the giant gates possibly holds the most important lives to grace the land of the living. 

 General Lapis didn’t have to ask, as the guards immediately recognized him and two of them gracefully walked to the door and pushed it open in practiced motion. If he didn’t know better, Xiao would’ve thought these men were automated just like the bombs he’s seen and used on the battlefield. 

 The sight before him was so beyond fascinating he could swear his jaw hit the floor. It was – his limited vocabulary could never form a sentence that described it fairly. Is this what they called heaven? Xiao doesn’t really recall dying but maybe this was his ‘oasis’ after walking in the desert for days on end. 

 He loved metaphors. 

 His nose tickled with mixed scents, not a single one unpleasant. The rainbow of colors, be it people, clothing, or visuals, was all sight pleasing; as if his eyes were getting cleansed after all the gruesome things he’s seen in the war. 

 “Enjoy this,” Zhongli pats the arm-tatted male. “It’s to celebrate you.” 

 Xiao’s train of thought gets cut off, glancing at Rex Lapis and back at the heaven, hesitant and distracted, stiffly nodding. 

 “Wh-what’re your commands, sir?” The shorter asks, unable to take his eyes off the colors that he couldn’t understand. The brunette by his side chuckles lightly; even though Xiao no longer works under him, he can’t change his habit.  “I command you to do anything you please tonight; enjoy everything to the fullest.” 

 The words General Lapis said were more fascinating and foreign to Xiao then the ball itself. He turns to the older male, golden eyes staring at him in awe with a smile tugging at his lips, “Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”  

 He smiles contently as he pats Xiao’s back. “You earned it.” 

 Only then does the male in the brown suit, meant to cover up his burnt arms, leave Xiao's side; the absence of his worth present to take his place. 

 The short man tries to wander, glaring daggers at every mortal soul the dares glance his way. Xiao has always been left out, because he grew up among only adults and once he became a unit captain he wasn’t approached thanks to the scary aura that was him. He never had to socialize and so the amount of people staring and whispering was not but a bother to him, making him wish they’d go back to their business and not notice him like when he was staring at them from the entrance, little toys who had no idea of any but their own existence. 

 The male with the forehead mark successfully made his way through the gatherings, careful to avoid any uncalled-for contact whatsoever. Sooner than later, he finds himself standing by a long, long table covered with a thin, white cloth and all sorts of edible goods. 

 To Xiao this valued more than the whole of the ball, starting by the grand hall it was held in down to the people celebrating something they were utterly ignorant of. Food wouldn’t bother him. No, it won’t judge or whisper about him, plaguing his mind with self-doubt and other dark, implacable thoughts in the process. This –the mercy and silence of food – was all he could ask for at the moment. 

 “I personally recommend Almond Tofu.” 

 He practically jumps. One second, he was staring at the food and the next a female was right next to him, her warmth evidence of her assault of his personal space. 

 “Oh- sorry- was that too close?” the female before him chuckles, rubbing the back of her neck in an awkward manner. “It’s a habit, I apologize.” 

 Xiao does not speak to her, instead opting for ignoring her and turning back to the food. He may seem collected and calm, but the male was genuinely terrified of the girl. 

 He had no idea how his defense got walked through. He, the Xiao of unit 1, the man who led four units at the age of thirteen, who would sense if a person was fake sleeping by their shoulders, had this girl barge into his personal space without him noticing. 

 He wanted to blame it on the loud ball where anything, down to the thoughts in his own head, was muffled and almost inaudible, but Xiao knew he couldn’t. He killed seven men sneaking up on him not only during an active battle but also in a bomb zone. How could an average, clearly spoiled to the core female trick his guard and get so, so close? She could’ve killed him and he wouldn’t know until the blade was out his chest. 

 “Hey- don’t ignore me!” the latter grumbles, leaning a fist on the table to support herself. “I’m trying to converse with you, okay?” 

 “Which one’s the Almond Tofun?” He raises one of his oddly shaped eyebrows, not sparing the female in a sparkling dress a glance. He wasn’t interested in the food she mentioned all that much, but he thought that maybe having a conversation where the other side isn’t tense and scared of him isn’t a bad idea. 

 “Tofu,” she corrected with a slight snicker, grinning at the pale boy. “It’s this one.” Her jeweled finger pointed at a certain plate with white cubes on it. He would’ve thought it to be ice if it wasn’t for the temperature. “Hold up, I’ll serve you some.”  

 Xiao watches carefully as the female reaches for a round empty plate and serves a few pieces of the gelatinous cubes, adding what he assumes is a fork on the plate and then directs it toward him. He observed every switch of her fingers for any sign of threat but returned empty-handed. He does not know this strange female and couldn’t assume her intentions. 

 Then it occurred to him. 

 Friend, not foe. 

 General Lapis’s words crossed the arm-tatted male’s mind. He had complete faith in him and knew full well he wouldn’t bring Xiao somewhere threatening both unarmed and without any instructions whatsoever. 

 “Yo, forehead tattoo, my hand is starting to hurt,” Y/n grunts, pushing the plate further until it almost came into contact with his chest. 

 Xiao looked at the insistent female once in distrust, then at the peculiar dessert. 

 Friend, not foe. 

 Reluctantly, he pulls the plate out of her fingers, taking a step back to maintain a safe distance between the two. 

 “Enjoy! Everything the cook here makes is delicious. Don’t eat too much, though, so you get to try as much of it as you could.” 

(a few hours later)

 “And then he was like- ‘I don't know you’-” the female mimics with a funny face, earning herself a chuckle from the male. “Like hello? Do you think I’m that stupid?”  “How bright of him,” Xiao chuckled. “If I were you, I’d just leave.” 

 For a very long while, Xiao watched the other soldiers talking and laughing together. He admits he hasn’t made any sort of effort in becoming close with any of them, he didn’t know what he was missing out on and so he didn’t long for it. But in reality, sometimes he wished they’d invite hi, when they all sat long at nights. He didn’t know what about him made them not want to approach him, seeing they never interacted with him to judge. It was like that for so long he got to the point of accepting the doom he lived in, convincing himself he wasn’t made for such. 

 But the pleasant warmth that filled his chest proved his theory wrong, and the girl sitting beside him telling him tales he wouldn’t’ve believed about his previous head generals proved every person that whispered ‘unapproachable’ and ‘scary’ loud enough so he could hear wrong. 

 “Tell me about yourself, Xiao,” the female suddenly suggests, looking at the male expectantly. “I only heard rumors but honestly none of it seemed to match what I saw of you today.” 

 Xiao looked at her, some of her features inaccessible to eyesight because the moon wasn’t bright and they chose to sit outside, away from the hustle of the ball. Her interest in knowing more about him and approaching him despite what she’s heard of him in rumors gave him a weird feeling. 

 He doesn’t recall if there were any other symptoms, but his heart slightly sped up and he felt his face heat up, too. According to what little he read it’s a case called being ‘flustered’. 

 He then feels weird sparks in his stomach. Like little, ticklish explosions in his guts. He had to go see a doctor because he doesn’t know how to cure this flustered illness thing by himself. So, just in case it’s contagious, he lays a hand over his mouth and nose, not wanting to infect the girl he has grown fond of. 

 Xiao thought he wasn’t cut for happiness and would never have the sort of connection even the old generals seemed to have, but the sparks lighting his stomach tonight proved it different. 

[deancasbigbang]

Title: The Sun of Huntra

Author: Inkblooded Witch

Artist: PetraAmia

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Eileen, John/Mary, Benny/Anthea, Garth/Beth, Bobby/Crowley, Ishim/Naomi, Past Dean/Others, Past Castiel/Other.

Length: 162200

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Mentioned Past Dub-Con, Brief Bouts of Suicidal Ideation, Largely Seasonally Induced Depression, Mentions of Miscarriage.

Tags: Omegaverse, Magic AU, Shifter AU, Arranged Marriage AU, Royal AU, Leopard Shifter! Castiel, Wolf Shifter! Dean, Smut, Fluff, Impala is a horse.

Posting Date: October 13, 2022

Summary: Castiel, firstborn prince to the Enochian crown, has lived his life largely out of public view. His father is a staunch supporter of tradition, and to have your firstborn be an Omega is shameful. Castiel didn’t even inherit the king’s Shifter breed. The first time he is truly useful in over thirty years is when a strong treaty must be made with their northern neighbors, and to secure it Enochia needs an Omega to mate off to Huntra’s crown prince, Johnathan Dean Winchester III. Obliged by duty, bound by honor, Castiel prepares himself for what equates to banishment, after decades of having to sneak out just to be allowed beyond Enochia’s capital. He sees no reason to think his intended will be any better an Alpha than those he’s accustomed to, and so he plans accordingly. A final rebellion after years of silent complacency. He only questions his resolve after he meets the Huntarians sent to escort him north, royal guards led by Dean Campbell. The more time he spends in their company, the more he questions what he knows of his new home and her people. The more he finds himself doubting the bitter, bleak fate he’d seen laid out before him. Perhaps life on Huntarian land won’t be as desolate as he’d envisioned. Perhaps a life mated to this prince of theirs won’t be his damnation. Assuming he can make it there alive. Even then, it may not be assassins or haughty nobility that spells his doom, but something far more merciless.

Excerpt:   Naomi took a step back. “You didn’t learn the language properly? How can you speak it to them now? You dare humiliate us before you even leave us?”    “Actually, they’ve complemented me,” Castiel countered. “They say it’s stiff, likely due to lack of recent practice, but good. I wouldn’t humiliate you, mother. Not intentionally.”    “Even if this is true, it’s improper to be conversing so easily with them. There are Alphas in that group, it’s unseemly.”    “Travel makes formalities difficult to maintain. I’m to be spending a great deal of time with these people in the near future. I thought it best to engage, garner goodwill.”    Naomi’s eyes were beginning to narrow. “Are you unwell? It’s been a long time since you’ve been so outspoken. You’re bordering on disrespect. I thought I had taught you better.”    “Perhaps. But neglected habits become broken habits. That was one of your teachings. You’ve neglected me too long. I’m curious, do you hate me because you hate your own breed so much, or because I survived when Jimmy didn’t?”    He saw the slap coming. He didn’t dodge it. Even through cloth he felt the sting, head snapping to the side.    Slowly, Castiel faced his mother again. No one had spoken his brother’s name in years, that he knew of. He rarely spoke it himself. It was something that had brought his mother enough shame Ishim had kept her in a tower for years, and something that had earned him the ire of many in his family before he was old enough to understand.    “I wouldn’t worry. After today, you will never have to look at me again. You will never hear from me again, unless you read letters father receives from my husband. Any shame or dishonor will no longer reflect upon you.”    He left Naomi there, mute, tight hands trembling. He’d known he would likely be seeing his father in regard to his behavior, to make sure he wouldn’t embarrass them. He hadn’t expected to speak with his mother, never mind end on such a bitter note.    As he walked back into the party he didn’t even want to attend, it occurred to Castiel his mother had been correct. He’d stayed unobtrusive for so long because he played their game so well. He could obey, keep his head down, do as he was told. Yet these last few days, he’d been blatantly pushing their boundaries. Granted it was forging a sort of bond with the Huntarians, they seemed to get along with him well enough, but it wasn’t something he’d planned on doing. He just…had.    The more he thought about it, gulping down what was left of his sweet wine in a single draft and going to find another, the more Castiel began to realize why. In short, he did not care. At all. Caring had always been his drive for what he’d done, and it had gone well for years. Now that he no longer cared, the urge to comply was gone.

DCBB 2022 Posting Schedule

[cyberstatic-fox]

Tabula Rasa pt.2

part 1 | part 3

Sun's careful not to ask anyone about the newboots in their old body -- no news is good news, and not bringing up something they're probably not supposed to know about is safer than risking it for the sake of curiosity. Even Moon, ever the cat casually evading doom, agrees with his decision, which goes a long way to say what it's like for animatronics down in Parts and Services.

At least, what it's like for secondaries, anyway. The primaries usually get better support, if only because they have a designated team and brand identity.

It doesn't stop them from being curious. After some quiet reflection on what'd happened, and after more than a bit of conversation with Moon about the young AI, Sun finds that he just can't help it. Remembering what it was like back when he and his brother had first gained consciousness, the confusion and distress, how he'd clung to protocol and programming until he had no choice but to admit that he felt and wanted and dreamed... It gives some perspective.

So, that night, Moon goes back.

To their surprise, and to Sun's conflicted relief, the newboots seem to still be active, and even remain in the same room they'd found them in the first time, though New-Sun is curled up on the worktable with its head on its knees.

Sun takes the lead this time around, waiting until Moon's locked the door again behind them before he steps into the front.

The sound of their whirring parts seems to catch New-Sun's attention, and it lifts its head, scanning them with an optic flash. It's missing half its casing, he notices; a couple rays gone, a bare endoskeleton hand, one leg completely lacking its padded plastic covering, revealing scratches and small dents that Sun's sure weren't there before they'd been migrated out. Empathy settles heavy in his synthetic gut.

==They're definitely testing AI,== he thinks sadly to Moon. Testers have only a short and brutal life, one spent entirely within a prototyping room under scrutiny until they're deemed no longer necessary.

He hadn't known the testers to be aware for the process, though.

Unlike yesterday, the infant AI remains silent, only staring at Sun with its head tilted just slightly. Sun fidgets awkwardly; he hadn't exactly planned out anything to say, and the unusual quiet really isn't helping.

After a very, very long, silent moment, he finally blurts, "You're, um, really quiet today, haha!"

Almost immediately, New-Sun responds, "I have been instructed not to speak unless spoken to," in a sad imitation of his cheerful inflection, very much like a child trying to mimic an adult. It hesitates, like it wants to continue -- but its programming must be stopping it.

Which is... messed up. "Even with other animatronics?" He can't help the disbelief bleeding into his tone. ==That's so messed up!==

"I... Yes." The other Sun somehow manages to look uncomfortable despite its lack of emotional capability. "The order isn't specific."

--Sounds like Paul's work,-- grumbles Moon, and Sun can't help but agree. After all, Paul's made it clear many times over how much he wishes he and Moon (but especially Sun) would shut up and be good little servants. It only makes sense that he'd do... this... to their newboot selves.

But that's neither here nor there. "Well, I'm talking to you, right?" Sun says, trying his hardest to sound upbeat and not... Well, he's not sure how he's actually feeling, but it sure isn't upbeat and cheerful right now. "So you can talk back!"

New-Sun continues to look at him, head slowly tilting the other direction. "I... guess so."

There's another brief pause, and Sun takes the opportunity to approach the other him, instinctively scanning it as he comes close. Despite the physical damage, it seems more or less intact, though newboots can be difficult to judge as a result of their strictly mechanical behavior. "Do you know what they're doing with you?" he asks gently, leaning against the wall beside the workbench.

If a bot could furrow its brow, he's pretty sure that's the expression New-Sun would be making right now. "Diagnostics," it answers after a moment, "and stress-tests. Other than that, no."

"Does it hurt?"

The other him pauses, internals whirring as it struggles to process the question. After a long moment, it slowly replies, "I'm intact."

Sun just kind of looks at it for a second, guilt and sympathy pinging around in his head like pinballs. It's hard to witness this kind of thing now -- they haven't had newboots around since the last time Freddy had needed reset, and he'd forgotten how stressful and disturbing it could be to interact with them. To see what they all used to be like.

It's not fair. For anyone.

Moon nudges him and Sun steps back after patting New-Sun on the shoulder, an action that leaves the newboot looking mildly perplexed. Its apparent confusion grows as he and his brother trade places; once he's in front, Moon stretches and adjusts his position against the wall, while the younger AI continues to stare, visibly full of questions its programming won't let slip.

It's hard to be a right asshole to his brother's face, even if it's not his Sun, so Moon sighs and says, "Yes, we can switch places whenever we want."

"Why?" asks the other Sun almost immediately, the question seemingly ready to go the second Moon stopped talking.

"Because we like to," he answers with a shrug. "Anyway, you know you don't have to stay here, right?"

Strangely, the question goes unanswered. "How do you change like that?" New-Sun almost demands, finally moving from where it's been sitting curled against the wall since they'd come in. "Don't you go to sleep inside?"

--Oh,-- Moon thinks after a split second of confusion, and Sun's realization blooms soon afterward. --This is familiar.--

After all, when they'd first started to become properly self-aware, it was because they were curious about each other, too. Ironic how the cycle seems to continue, isn't it?

Well, Moon's never been one for emotional talk, and Sun's practically buzzing in the back of his head at the prospect of another AI achieving true sapience. So with a soft chuckle, and no small amount of nostalgia, he steps back, and Sun surges back into the casing with a big, broad grin. "You know," he says, voice brimming with excitement, "we were just like you, a long time ago!"

New-Sun leans in, a glimmer of genuine curiosity in those empty white eyes, and Sun starts telling the tale. "It all started with this note I found..."

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

They drop by a few more times that night, after Moon's forced to depart by patrol rolling around again. The first time back, they bring a notebook and one of Sun's favorite pens -- a little galaxy-patterned one that writes in three different colors -- and encourage the newboots to try writing each other notes, just as they had so long ago.

At first, the young AI don't seem convinced, and New-Sun spends a few minutes aimlessly doodling instead. But by the time they've circled back around again, some writing's begun to populate the page, alternating between red and green in wildly different hand. The third return finds New-Moon intently crouched before the notebook, a drawing of the two of them half-completed below him.

--They're definitely our backups,-- chuckles Moon from just outside the door. He's leaned up against the wall where he can just see through the glass, a little reticent to open it and risk breaking the young AI's concentration. They don't need to be thinking about programming right now, just each other. --I guess you really can't change nature, huh?--

Sun's been buzzing like a little bee in the back of his head almost all evening, all that anxiety and distress he'd been feeling over their presence by now evaporated into cheer and adulation. ==Isn't it so cute!?== he squeals, and its only the fact that he's speaking through the chatlog that keeps him from blowing out a speaker in his excitement. ==They're just like us! Gosh, I can't wait to see them blossom into their own people!==

Moon's internal smile turns to a frown, though, as something occurs to him. --Except that they're testing AI,-- he says, and he can feel Sun instantly deflate. After all, testing AI don't have tremendous lifespans.

==But-- but that's not fair!==

--I don't think the humans care much for fairness.-- It's funny, normally Moon wouldn't get too attached to anything like this, and especially not so quickly -- but seeing another version of himself and his brother go through the same routine of self-discovery that they had, only to know that it's all in vain?

Surprisingly, that hurts.

They watch in silence for a moment as New-Moon hops to his feet, drawing complete, and races to the light switch. He goes limp for a second, and then New-Sun boots up and runs right back to the worktable to see. Remembering that they're almost definitely slated for deletion or reformatting soon is--

--We need to do something,-- he decides instead of finishing that thought, pushing off of the wall. Sun gushes agreement, and Moon starts running through options while he heads off for his last patrol of the night, deftly performing his duty almost on autopilot.

There's gotta be something they can do. And it's not like the technicians need to know, either.

[breakyeol]

buzzed

drabble

┗ pairing: baekhyun x reader

warnings: pain :’)

a/n; I’m hurting. you’re hurting. we’re all hurting. this is how I cope. this is also cheesy and gross but I’m in need of a little cheesy and gross rn okay so leave me be. ALSO ik baek is doing public service so he’ll basically be home every night but FOR THE DRAMATICS let’s pretend otherwise.

“Byun Baekhyun, stay still! You’re going to make me mess up!”

“I– I’ve changed my mind! I’m not doing this!” Panic laces his voice as he lurches upwards, desperate to get away from the threatening buzz of the electric razor.

“You have to!” You hiss, grabbing his shoulders and shoving him back into the chair.

His hands fly to his head, protectively covering his head of full brown hair. “I can’t!” He shrieks, staring at you wide eyed through the mirror in front of him.

“You don’t have a choice!”

“But I—”

“No buts! I am shaving your head and that’s final.” You pause, before cocking a mischievous brow. “Unless you’d like me to go get Sehun? I’m sure he’d be just ecstatic to take a razor to your pretty little head.”

Baekhyun grimaces at the mere thought of it, a shiver of fear rippling down his spine at the thought of what kind of damage the maknae would do to his poor hair.

“Fine,” he huffs, defeated, slumping back into the chair, “just… just get it over with.”

A triumphant smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you flick the on switch of the sleek black razor which buzzes to life in your palm. Baekhyun swallows thickly at the horrible sound, hands gripping the armrests so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He takes a sharp breath when the clippers finally make contact, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he can

You work in silence, carefully maneuvering the razor over his head. With each diligent stroke, more and more his thick hair falls, some into his lap, most onto the floor. The tension occupying his body is visible in his stiff, raised shoulders and the incessant bouncing of his legs. Your free hand drops, laying reassuringly across the juncture of his neck as your thumb traces light circles into his warm skin. It seems to help a bit. His legs stop bouncing.

It didn’t take very long. You should’ve expected as much, but it still took you by surprise just how easy it was.

Slowly, you flick off the razor, the room falling silent without its relentless hum.

“Done.” You finally speak, voice was little more than a whisper. Any louder and you’re certain it would shatter like glass in your throat.

Baekhyun doesn’t open his eyes, nor does he release his vice-like grip on the armrests.

“It’s looks horrible… doesn’t it?”

You glance at him in surprise, before sighing. Making your way in front of him, you lean over, placing your hands gently on top of his. Baekhyun flinches slightly at the contact, his head tipping up instinctively.

“Byun Baekhyun,” you hum softly, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss between his furrowed brows. He exhaled a shaky breath, umber eyes fluttering open to find yours as you drew away, look down at him with nothing but the warmest of affections.

“You couldn’t look horrible if you tried.”

A shy blush rose to his cheeks, and you couldn’t help the smile that broke out across your lips.

“Now, tell me what you think.” You chirped, swinging around to stand behind him once more so that he could see himself in the mirror.

“Oh god. I do look weird, you liar.” He whined, running his fingers through the what little remained of his hair, a familiar pout down turning the corners of his lips.

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “You do not.”

“I do.” He insisted, face twisted in distaste.

“You don’t!”

“I do!”

“Okay, yeah, you look a little weird.”

“Yah!”

“Kidding, kidding.” You giggled, dodging his hand as he took a swat at your arm. Huffing, he attempted to shrug you off as you wrapped your arms around his, chest, but you only held on tighter, laughing lightly while he squirmed and kicked up a fuss.

After a bit of playful wrestling, he finally relaxed into your embrace, eyes fixed on his reflection in the mirror. It feels strange seeing himself like this. It makes everything feel way more… real. Enlistment had always been something to worry about in the future. But, now it was actually happening. He had a goddamn buzz cut and within a number of hours he’d be heading off to the training center. Talk about getting backhanded, curb stomped, and kicked in the balls by reality.

“You’ll wait for me?”

The question was unexpected. You cocked a brow, pressing your cheek to the top of his head, the unfamiliar pickling of his freshly buzzed hair rough against your skin.

“Why do you say that like it’s even a question?”

He hesitates. “I just— I know two years is going to feel like a long time. And I know it sounds selfish but I— I don’t think I could take it if you didn’t. I want you to wait for me. Please… wait for me.”

“Two years?” You scoff, propping your chin on his shoulder as you grin at him impishly through the mirror in a way that you hope hides the painful aching of your heart. “Two years is nothing. Two years is going to fly by in the blink of an eye.”

He giggles as you press a playful kiss to his sensitive neck, shoulder jerking at the ticklish sensation.

“For you,” you continue, voice suddenly softening, “two years is worth the wait.”

Baekhyun presses his lips together, eyes suddenly glassy. “You mean that?”

Your heart throbs as his voice breaks.

“Of course.” The steadfast resolution in your voice has a hoarse, tearful laugh breaking from his quivering lips, his hand curling around your wrist and squeezing tightly. You feel your own eyes beginning to burn as he suddenly turns, nuzzling his face into the space just below your jaw. A shuddering breath rushes over your skin and then you feel the first splash of wetness against your shoulder. You rush to cradle the back of his head, gently caressing his warm cheek as he sobs weakly into your neck.

“Why are you crying, Baek?” You barely manage to get the question out without choking up.

“I’m gonna miss you.” He whimpers, hands fisting tightly at the fabric of your top. “I already feel like we’ve lost so much time. How am I gonna go two years without you?”

Clenching your jaw, you swallow down the lump forming in your throat and knock your forehead lightly against his. “I’m not going anywhere. And just think, when you get back, we’ll have all the time in the world to make up for what we lost.”

Baekhyun nods at your comforting words, sniffling noisily.

“Besides, you know what Junmyeon says.”

“Oh god please don’t—” he groans, hands flying to cover his face, already sensing what was coming.

“If you’re happy to wait…” you lean in close to his ear, whispering as airily as you can, “then it’s love.”

“Don’t speak to me ever again.”

You bark out a laugh, taking an immense about of pleasure in the way he glowers at you in disgust. But honestly, you were just glad he wasn’t crying anymore.

“They are wise words spoken by a wise man.” You wink, smiling at him cheekily.

“How about I shove my wise foot up your wise—”

“Hyung!” Both of your heads whip in the direction of the door, surprised to find Sehun peeking his head in, “are you guys done y—” his jaw drops when his eyes land on Baekhyun.

“Oh my god you’re bald.”

The older boy hissed, pointing an accusing finger in his direction. “I’m not bald! It’s just a buzz cut! There’s a difference!”

“Yeah, not much though.”

“You brat—”

A bright smile breaks across your lips at the duo’s familiar, brotherly bickering, warmth blossoming in your chest. At least, you know some thing will never change.

[the-darklings]

╱ i only love it when you touch me, not feel me.

pairing: jean & clara verse: npfh word count: 3.1k+ warnings: nsft, bathroom/mirror sex (because that's who they are as people), rough sex (but they're both so into it I'm not sure it even counts), cockwarming. notes: so this was written all the way back in January but it's the first piece of what I considered to be the real beginning of their dynamic (which I've expanded upon in ASE) despite writing them a lot prior to this point. it's also the first time I ever tried to write from jean's pov so enjoy. this is not super explicit and more character exploration because apparently smut is good for those. as always, any feedback is loved and appreciated 🌿 ✨

He’s never cared much for his name.

Or, more accurately, never cared what sentiment it was spoken with. He’s heard his name being called lovingly, with hatred, suspicion, fear, and hatred alike. Moaned desperately and worshipped—latter he’s always preferred the most.

“I'm not going to touch you unless you beg.”

Clara, however, has an infuriatingly persistent ability to make him crave his own name. From her mouth specifically.

Jean could fuck her until she’s barely coherent and it still won’t be enough. This woman fights and fights, and doesn’t give him an inch of ground. All liquid flame and viciousness, and he can’t help but wonder where the hell she’s been hiding all this time.

With Camorra, a sly voice reminds him, Giovanni De Stefano’s deadly little matchstick. So good at death.

She is. She's a master at death and maybe that’s what makes this so fun, so good, and addictive. Why he irritatingly finds his blood burning whenever he sees her. Why he looks forward to every occasion their bodies touch. Whenever those dark eyes fixate on him and pin him in place, a monster deep down stirs, purrs at her presence. His desire is a monster with its own life, its own insatiable appetite for her.

Jean prefers when she pins him with her lithe body—eyes flashing and teeth bared, a powerful but dangerous package of hunger.

He had expected her to be meek. Broken. Especially after Tokyo. She’s proven to be anything but. Even at her worst, she’s still a sharpened blade. A danger, a promise of destruction. Damaged, certainly, but unbroken and unyielding. The more he learns about Tokyo the more his head rings with but one downright greedy thought.

The Viper hasn’t taken another lover since then. No one has touched her or tasted her since her rebirth. No one has fucked her, brought her to the edge, made her moan and shudder. Given her an escape and a release. Satisfied her.

No one knows the scrunch of her nose or the way her lips part softly. A whisper of air slipping free with every slow, lingering kiss against her throat.

Expect him.

His hips stutter at that thought. It always makes him feel good. To know that he alone has claimed some tiny part of her. Jean knows full well it’s only because she allowed him to claim it but that’s its own kind of buzz. He likes how she burns. How she yields only when she wants to. Liquid flame melting into his body like she was made to fit in his arms.

It’s sex at the end of the day. It doesn’t have to or even need to have meaning—he would know—but she makes it mean something. Emotions aside, she challenges him with such acute precision, he can’t help but come and meet her in the middle; an unending battle of wills. For all the dullness and predictability of their world, she’s a tempest, utterly untamed.

“And would you prefer if I begged?” he whispers against the shell of her ear, watching their reflection—the way they fit, the way she leans into him, trust, trust, trust, that he won’t let her fall, and they exist in these tiny victories. “Mmh? Ma vipére.”

He hums with a wolfish grin, his words throaty, pressing another greedy kiss against the back of her neck, then side, his lips dragging over her soft skin. “For you, I might,” he adds slyly, meeting her stare in the bathroom mirror again.

He might be losing, but she's losing quicker.

Clara doesn’t answer right away—a clever, careful thing that she is, his viper—and they watch each other for a moment, his pace slowing.

The bathroom door is closed, secured with one of her blades, they don’t need to rush but Jean wants to. He can savour her later, in their bed, where she’s his and his alone, where he can do everything to her. If only because he knows she’s no better. Because any scrap of pleasure she will return with an intensity that will leave him bloody.

She has in the past. His back is a colourful tale of her ravenous hunger. The Viper likes to mark him. It likely pleases her, to know she has her venom in his system in the form of her sultry whispers, kisses and moans. Blazing eyes and coil of her limbs around his.

Clara’s stare is, as usual, burning—an almost physical thing. Even like this, with him so deep inside her—and fuck if she isn’t hot, and slick, and welcoming in ways he quite remember fitting with others, and there've been plenty—she doesn’t lose her proud edge. She enjoys it, getting under his skin. Pushing him. Melting the ice, she once murmured with her mouth pressed against the taut skin of his lower stomach and sinking ever lower. Testing his self-control with her mouth wrapped around him, and her tongue searing and wet; a viper delighting in her poison spreading so effectively.

It does say something about his self-control because, despite the temptation, he doesn’t simply fuck into her until they’re both lost in pleasure so deep they can’t get out of it.

The skin of her chest is flushed, her swollen lips parted, her expression slacker with pleasure but she still stares him down.

His fingers sink into the cut of her hip, pushing her harder against the cold marble of the bathroom sinks, rolling his own hips, and it makes her shudder in his hold. So Jean presses another hungry kiss to her pulse, lets his teeth scrape against it, sucking on it. Prodding at the weak spot masterfully. He can be mean, too. She likes it when he is. Just as much as he likes it when she lets those sharper edges of hers out.

Her strong legs hold her upright but she clenches around him in reply and fuck, fuck, fuck, what is it about her?

All he wants to do is bend her over this fucking counter and fuck her until she’s screaming his name. Not that it would do him much good. Clara is as likely to let him do it as she is to graze her blade across his throat for trying. He would be lying if he said the thought of that fight doesn’t thrill him, makes him want to try it anyway. He’s only managed to get a drop on her like this a few times. Sink himself into her from behind so deeply she hadn’t been able to shake him off till she was sated and panting with pleasure.

Then, of course, the viper had tightened her grip on him in return, paying him back in kind with her bite and her venom.

The bite he enjoys a little too much. The venom is becoming… a concern.

He’s worked for years to remove any ties, any weaknesses, from his life. No one can ever have anything on him. He’s the one with the web, he’s the one who controls others. Sly implication and whispers and they’re oh, so destructive but she…

Jean snaps himself inside her, pulsing and so hard he has to grit his teeth. Clara’s hand seeks purchase desperately, her fingers snapping behind herself. Breathing deeply, she lets her nails sink into the back of his neck—firm, near painful—and he hisses through his teeth, pulling away from the hollow of her neck.

“You would like it, won’t you?” he gasps into her ear, and her nails sink deeper, so he fucks her harder. His hips are merciless against the soft skin of her thighs. Yet Clara stands unmoving, near silently goading him with her resilience and coyness. She’s so fucking wet. He’ll need a cigarette after this, or three. “On my hands and knees, non? Vicious vipère. Give in first.”

“No.”

He almost laughs at that. At the caustic hiss of her voice. Of course, she won’t. It’s why even though he’s gotten her, it makes him wonder if he truly has. If he ever will.

The more he has her, the more he wants her. And it’s a dangerous thing. To want, to crave, to hoard her the way he does.

“Then I’ll just fuck you harder, chérie.”

He wraps around her tighter, nibbling on the shell of her ear, dragging his other hand between her thighs. He feels the muscle there, the strength, he likes those legs around his waist and head too. Usually when her taste is hot on his tongue and she’s a squirming, hateful mess above him, tearing at his hair as hard as she can while she grinds onto his face.

He sucks on the curve of her neck at the memory, nibbling, wanting nothing more than to mark her with his teeth as she marked him this morning. Crinkled eyes and a content smile when she curled around him after. A predator satisfied with her hunt.

She’s addictive.

Usually, it’s the other way around. Maybe still is. But he can’t let it go much further than this. A carnal need and nothing more than that.

If he knew about this, about her…

Jean doesn’t allow the thought conclusion.

She’s nothing, he repeats to himself with every push and every strangled exhale, just a means to an end.

She never once looks away.

Clara gazes at them, takes in the way he moves in her, her eyes hooded and intent. Daring him. Even after she confessed to him how that man used to watch her. How it made her abhor every touch, despise being watched. She watches him—them, joined, with his fingers hard against her clit, drawing more of those little gasps of pleasure that sound like music to him—and he can’t help but stare too.

He should take advantage of the weakness, prod it and scrub at it until he can bend her to his will, but he loves her fire too much. Covets it like a man starved—and they both are, aren’t they—starved for more. Each other.

He wants her. For more than just a quick fuck. More than just a means by which he can bury his problems. Just more, more, more. And it sickens him, but it also makes him feel strangely relieved as well, that realisation. The acceptance of it. He would never admit it to anyone but himself but he does. It forces him to feel raw, unbalanced. He hasn’t felt like this in years. He hates it but it also makes him feel high, alive.

In revenge, he sucks on the smooth skin again, lets his teeth bite and nibble, releasing her hip and burying his fingers in her pulled-back hair. Chestnut strands loosen in his iron grasp and he only does it because he knows for a fact she doesn’t have any sharp pointy metal hidden up there. He watched her get ready. Her graceful, supple body was an open invitation for him. A sight to admire, and he did. He worshipped her with his attention, letting her know without a word how every curve and every freckle of hers sang to him. Beguiled him further.

He pulls on Clara’s hair, forcing her chin upwards, at an angle, and she still defies him. Still glares and brims with power.

A strangled pant escapes her at the change of angle, in how he slams back into her, her nails slicing into his neck. Jean hopes she draws blood even if he would have to get creative about explanations later.

“Jean.”

It’s a breathy, bewitching thing—snaring him, pulling him deeper into her, and he audibly gasps a breath, feeling even more starved. Now he wishes to claim a litany of those tiny, appreciative exhales of his name. He feels the muscles in his lower stomach grow tauter with every thrust, with every taste of her skin, and the sounds of their shared pleasure.

They penetrate the air, echoing off the walls, and they are as animalistic and as intensive as the pleasure they create.

“What?” he groans appreciatively, their eyes still locked, and heat between them sweltering. She drives him insane. He’s removed emotional attachments from himself years ago—didn’t even realise he’s still capable of them—but nothing about her, them, makes sense. She’s the one thing he can’t predict or control. “What do you want? Tell me.”

Drive me to the edge, he wants to goad her, tugging on her hair again, and he manages to dislodge a moan from the back of her throat, push me, claim what you want.

“You,” she whispers in teeth-clenched defeat but to him, it’s a symphony. This time, he won. He knows she’ll get him back. Twice as badly most likely. But saints above, did he win? She’s so open and warm, the scent of jasmines and earth mixing with his cologne and musk of sex, and he pushes into her deeper till they’re completely pressed into each other. Moulded into one being. “You.”

He feels every tense muscle in her body, and his fingers slip from her hair, curving around her throat instead, and a flutter of a smile appears, coy and knowing.

Fuck.

The things this woman does to him.

He speeds the already merciless pace until she’s a shivering mess inside his embrace, clinging out of sheer stubbornness alone. Deeper, deeper, deeper—a cruel part of him is set on planting himself inside her very marrows, so she will never be able to feel or know another lover. Not even the Italian, a voice deep down snarls. It’s so wholly and truly selfish yet he craves it. If he is to lose this game between them, he will make her lose first. Make this need between them mutual until neither of them knows where one ends and the other begins.

Jean can’t look away from her, certainly not when pushes and pushes, not when he feels her throat bob under his hand as she swallows. Wanting and needing and trusting his touch. He feels her quivering, her muscles tightening, whispering to him that—

Her orgasm washes over her like a tidal wave—slow but so intense that for the first time, he feels Clara’s legs tremble. His hold on her constricts, steadying her, and his viper withers in his embrace, a beautiful undoing. He lets her ride her orgasm out, watching her mouth, her fluttering lashes, the bead of sweat clinging between the dip of her breasts.

It's then—watching her, memorising how she looks like this; relaxed and glowing—that his own orgasm finally overpowers him. For a moment, Jean finds himself robbed of sight because she washes everything away. He spills himself inside her, letting her feel his pleasure this time. He moans for her, splinters for her, lets the world fade away just for a moment.

This is his gift, he wants to tell her then, the fact that when it’s them, it’s just them alone. There’s nothing else outside of her and he’s never allowed another this close, not since…

But he can’t adequately put that into words for her, nor does he want to. She can’t know. He hopes there will never be a day when he has to explain everything to her.

If she knew him—saw all the festering darkness like a rotting carcass out in the open—she would hate him. It would be better if she did. Maybe her hatred would make it easier to let her go.

He can’t think of that right now.

Instead Jean sinks his teeth into the slim arch of her throat, savouring the appreciative gasp she releases, dragging her nails down the side of his neck. He promised her this morning he will return the favour sooner rather than later after all.

He laps at the bite with his tongue—heat, sweat, and remnants of her soap tingling his tongue—and looks up from beneath his lashes. Her eyes appear black with pleasure. He can barely see blue in his own.

Two monsters, a thought comes then, unbidden. It’s as pleasant as it is seductive. Mainly because he knows he’s right. Cut from the same cloth, sewn into being by similar hardships, and capable of such awful things.

He’s still semi-hard inside of her but his grip on her throat loosens—and the thought she trusts him enough to let him touch her like this is thrilling enough—his palm journeying downwards. Clara sighs quietly when his palm settles against her lower stomach, and he pushes gently, savouring the breathless gasp that follows. He has to choke one back himself. She feels like heaven. Or hell. A mix of both. Still, he keeps pressing, letting the pressure sit there, feeling himself twitching inside her. Them, joined together at the seams, and the heat between them overbearing. They could go again but he doesn’t want to move just yet. It feels good to be inside her like this; a promise of more gratification sitting snugly between them.

His nose drags up the length of her neck, and he buries his face in Clara’s hair, inhaling deeply. She’s wearing his favourite perfume tonight. Something warm and deep with jasmines blooming in his lungs. If it were her, she would go on a whole monologue, breaking each chemical ingredient down and every scent used in creating it.

He likes her distracted, mind-boggling dialogues. Then nearly scoffs at the mere thought. Since when? Since when does he give a shit about something like that? It serves no purpose to him and he doesn’t waste time on things that don’t.

Because it’s her, comes the sinking realization, because she says these things, so they matter.

Merde.

He tenses when her hand settles on top of his, pushing once, harder. Another soft sigh leaves her while Jean doesn’t bother biting back his groan of appreciation at the flare of fierce hot pleasure.

Clara’s mesmeric expression arrests something inside of him when he spots it. For a second, his vision blurs and the black dress drips into white, and she wears that same peaceful expression as she sinks into a river and doesn’t resurface. A dream that haunts him near-nightly now.

He blinks and then he’s back in the bathroom, his arms still around her. She’s here, with him, and his grip constricts further. He can make it work. He’ll find a way.

When has he ever compromised?

She means nothing, he tries to convince himself once again now that he’s back from his high.

But as he peers her—tiniest of smiles on her face, her freckles a roadmap for him to re-examine, loose strands of dark hair framing her flushed cheeks—a voice scratches itself from deep inside his chest.

A voice he hasn't heard in years, not since he called somewhere earthier and greener his home.

Liar.

an: head empty, just them. I could go on about them for five calendar months but hope you all enjoyed this little peek inside his head. ASE does contain Jean's pov so you'll def be seeing/learning more about him outside of just smut dfjhgdfg

[lowkeyorloki]

Chaos and Control

Anonymous requested: I have a request! The reader is part of the Avengers team, but is more on the technology side and babysitter if need be; like when Steve Rodgers at the end of the first Captain American movie. But the reader is in charge of babysitting Loki and Loki can’t help but be intrigued by the reader. Loki ends up kidnapping the reader when escaping from the Avengers and somehow protects the reader throughout the events of NY!

Anonymous requested: Hello, just found your page and I have a request if it hasn’t already been done yet. But Loki meeting his significant other for the first time and trying his hardest to stay away, but the readers niceness has a warmth that Loki can’t deny no matter how hard he tries.

I hope this first anon doesn’t mind if I tweaked the prompt a bit! Instead of kidnapping the reader, Loki just runs into them in NYC. It should still work :D

~

Loki’s eyes glinted.

“You seem to have held back all your life. Allowed yourself to be controlled under guise of following orders.” Loki stands up a little taller, reminding you of just how small you are to him. “...Don’t you ever just want to let go?”

“I don’t have that luxury,” you respond, watching Loki from the other side of the glass. He sits in his prison, much more confident than he probably should be. “It’s not that simple.”

“My life greatly improved when I realized it is.” Loki tells you.

“You turned your back on a whole kingdom.”  you say, knitting your eyebrows. Loki clenches his fists- a movement you would have missed if you’d blinked. 

“They turned theirs on me first.” he retorts. You see something change in him- a flicker in his eyes.

Sadness.

Without thinking, your press a hand up to the cool glass that divides the two of you. It’s silly, stupid even- Loki is probably going to rip you to shreds, make fun of you to no end.

But he doesn’t. In fact, the god stands up, almost like he’s going to walk over to you and place his own hand against yours.

Fury barks your name from behind you. Giving Loki one last glance, you walk away. 

~

Loki has been in custody for three days. With Natasha having blown her facade with him to get information, it’s your job to watch him.

Thor insisted Loki be allowed nourishment, so you give him meals as well. You slip his meals into his cell through the small window.

Loki never eats unless you do too. It’s always silent, and one of you is always watching the other. 

You tape little notes under the plates to give to Loki. They don’t even say anything. They’re just doodles, of flowers or clouds or whatever else you thought of.

If Loki notices, he doesn’t mention it.

~

You’re not blind to the eyes of the Avengers or other S.H.I.E.L.D agents on you. You’re used to it, it comes as no concern.

But maybe it should.

“It’s not innocent, little one.” Loki says as the man who debriefed you leaves. You glance at him, and Loki is as close to your side of the glass as he’s ever been. 

“What’s not innocent?” you question him, training and information extraction skills at the ready. Loki may distract you, but not entirely. You still have a purpose here. 

“The stares.” he answers, like it’s perfectly clear. Like you’re a fool for not knowing. “It’s not because you’re new, or stronger, or faster. It’s because you’re different. You kind doesn’t like that.” he quiets down. “Neither did mine.”

You take a step closer- if there was no barrier between you and Loki, you two would be able to touch.

“You don’t know me.” you say, but it’s not a threat. You don’t declare it as a triumph. You just... state a fact. Not a good or bad one. 

Loki blinks, then turns away.

No, he thinks. Not yet.

~

When Loki makes his escape, it’s a grandiose event. There are explosions everywhere, the Hulk has been unleashed, and you’re still having to break up fights between Steve Rogers and the Ironman himself.

You’re sent after Loki, running after him and dodging every stray bullet, flame, and pieces rubble that’s sent your way. 

He’s in a jet of some sorts, one that he probably can’t fly by himself and will crash if he tries. The door is open, an empty seat next to him. Loki says nothing, but just like yours, his attention is drawn to the passenger seat. 

Almost like he was asking you to join.

The engine stalls and makes noises it shouldn’t, but it’s somewhat up in the air and leaving the helicarrier before you can react.

Before you can make a choice.

The blast sends you flying backwards, hitting your head. The last thing you see is Loki flying away. In the back of your mind, you wonder if this is an omen.

In the back of your mind, you’re almost glad he escapes.

~

It’s New York, but it’s different. 

The city was never boring, least of all right now. 

The Chitauri are everywhere, and so are the civilians they’re attacking. Every abandoned shoe, doll, backpack makes your heart heavy. You hope they were simply dropped, as opposed to...

As opposed to...

You didn’t want to think of the other possibility. 

The rest of the Avengers are headed towards the epicenter of destruction, hoping to find Loki.

You think back to your days spent with him. You listened to what he had said. You’d seen the looks of scorn he gave Thor. 

Thor stole glory from Loki, banished his younger to the sidelines.

That’s where you figure he’ll be now. 

New York is a huge city, with lots of alleys to hide in. You can’t possibly look down them all.

And yet, you’re determined to try. No one else, not even Loki, had to get hurt. 

He’s waiting for you, on the outskirts of the city. You hit his armored chest as you round a corner, bouncing back far enough to look at him.

Loki’s form makes your heart skip a beat.

He’s godly, now, that much is sure. His helmet is tall, reflecting the sun, and his scepter emanates power. Loki’s robes are adorned with gold, and the brilliant green shows every curve of his muscled self. 

This doesn’t seem like the same battered Loki you met in the S.H.I.E.L.D compound. This was a lethal man, capable of being terrible.

But also of being kind.

Loki wordlessly walks towards you, taking advantage of your shell-shocked self. He looks forlorn, reaching up and running his thumb over the stitches on your forehead.

Stitches from his escape. You flinch when he touches them.

“Not you.” he murmurs. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Loki is tangible now, and with no glass to separate the two of you, you reach out. Your hand finds its way under layers of metal and leather and cloth until it rests on Loki’s bare chest, just over his heart.

It beats steady under your hand, but faster than you would have thought. As if your touch excited Loki.

You stare at each other, until Loki closes his eyes, muttering a chant under his breath. In an instant, the gash on your forehead is healed, leaving you feel more alert in its wake.

“Thank you.” you whisper, the first words you’ve ever spoken that are meant for Loki and Loki alone. There’s no one to hear them, no supervisors or agents. 

Just you.

He gives you a sad smile, pulling away. He begins to leave, cape trailing behind him.

“Wait.” you call out. “You can stop this.”

Loki turns back, still looking kind and kingly. Your breath catches in your throat.

“No.” he says sadly. “I don’t think I can.”

“I know this isn’t what you want.” you say, you beg. This isn’t Loki, this was a front. Why wouldn’t he save himself?

“I’m glad someone could see that.” Loki muses. He looks over your shoulder at the impending chaos behind you. His face crumples, like it pains him to see it all. “Just... wait for me. When this is all over, all said and done.”

You aren’t given a chance to respond before Loki disappears into thin air.

But then, you don’t think you have to. Loki knows.

He doesn’t know your mind yet, but he knows your heart. You’ll wait for anyone who needs you. 

Especially him. 

[moved-to-void-kissed]

Split of Twin Flowers

After being rescued from the realm of darkness, Aria seeks a way to give Ves a chance at living her own life, while also continuing to survive in her own right. Aqua brings her to the scientists at Radiant Garden to see if they have a solution, and for Aria to explain her situation, but the only option available may carry some worrying implications.. (3937 words)

Takes place after the ending of KH3. Content warning for mentions of battle scars, talk of a character being possessed, an event comparable to an exorcism (it’s kind of hard to explain in non-series-specific terms, sorry), and rather a lot of self-insert-focused exposition.

(Comments on and reblogs of my work are always okay, and appreciated, but are by no means required. I recommend reading this piece on the original document, but if that doesn't work, a transcript has been copied and pasted under the readmore.)

tag list: @thatslikesometaldude | @garchompp | @beeon | @tex-treasures | @catake | @tartaglialovemail | @catcao | @lilacslovers | @kissofthemoonrabbit | @vilehusband | @dragonsmooch | @childrenofmeyneth | @kalliopi-ships | @blackbirdcrime | @strawberryshipz (to be tagged in what I make, please click here!)

This is a piece I have been working on for a long time, and am very proud of, so I really appreciate anyone who takes the time to read it. I hope it isn’t quite as heavy as the content warnings may possibly indicate. I’m also using it as my post for the twenty-ninth day of sapphic September; there’s just one more to go!

Document transcript:

The door to the laboratory opened halfway, and a young woman tentatively poked her head around it. Upon seeing that she was not interrupting anything, she smiled and emerged more properly, brushing a lock of blue hair from her face.

“Oh, Master Aqua!” The lone scientist in the room smiled warmly as he noticed her. “Thank you for coming. I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“Thank you, Ienzo.” Aqua replied, even if she did still in fact look rather tired. The long battle to defeat Master Xehanort and the true Organisation still felt fresh in her mind, and although it was a fight that the light had eventually won, it had still taken quite a toll on her. Not only that, but she hadn’t had the same chance to rest as the others - though thoughts of locating Sora still weighed on everyone’s minds, Aqua had been more concerned with finding a way back into the realm of darkness in order to rescue Aria, her partner who she had so unwillingly abandoned..

Now that Aria was finally free as well, Aqua could let herself relax a bit more, and with that lowering of her guard came much contemplation of everything she had gone through.

“Um.. Master Aqua?”

“Ah!”

She’d been staring off into space again, judging by Ienzo’s worried expression half-visible under his hair.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, don’t worry!” she replied, slightly embarrassed at her lapse in concentration. The young scientist did not look entirely convinced, but he seemed content enough to continue.

“I’m the only one here at the moment, but I should still be able to help with what we talked about over the Gummiphone. Did you happen to bring Aria with you?”

At this, the half-open door Aqua had come through continued to swing open as if of its own accord, only to reveal another young woman entering the laboratory with a somewhat nervous expression. She had clearly been through a lot, and the realm of darkness she had reportedly been trapped in for aeons had definitely left its mark on her; several large patches of darkness could be seen spanning her face and body, with one reaching down her left eye like a melting wound.

“Yes, I’m here..”

Her catlike eyes flickered nervously around the room, and it soon became apparent that what Ienzo had thought was a cape were in fact a pair of black feathered wings, both subconsciously curling around her shoulders. It was only upon recognising that Ienzo was the only one present, and that his initial reaction to seeing her was not as negative as she was expecting, that she was able to relax slightly and explain herself from behind a now-steeled facade.

“My name is Aria.” she said, looking up at the scientist from under her messy blonde hair. “Aqua said you might be able to help me achieve something. Has she already.. told you about, well-”

“We’ve already spoken a little bit using the Gummiphone I was given before, but he said it was best for us to come and talk in person to try and get everything clear.” Aqua stepped in after sensing Aria’s hesitation and took her hand to support her partner. “It’s alright - you can trust him,” she whispered close to her ear.

Trusting only in her love’s reassurance, Aria started to explain her intentions to Ienzo, who seemed content to listen even considering the clear presence of darkness she had; this silent gesture of tolerance was greatly appreciated. She appeared hesitant to reveal much of her true nature as a Heartless, but she did what she could to inquire whether the young scientist knew any way for a heart to be released from its current body and inhabit a different one, allowing the dormant self within the original body to reawaken. Unfortunately, Ienzo remained pensive, even after she had said her part.

“So, you’re looking for a way for a heart to enter a new body? I’m sorry, but.. I’m not sure we’ll be able to help you. Any of the resources we could have used - which is to say, the replicas, they would have been perfect for this - were taken by Roxas, Xion, and Naminé’s hearts.”

“Oh. So, there is nothing you can do?” Aria persisted, but Ienzo shook his head.

Then came a flash of hesitant inspiration.

“Unless..” He trailed off and turned to look down one of the corridors leading away from the main lab space. “Could you two come with me, please?”

“Of course!” said Aqua brightly, as Aria nodded in assent.

==========

The three left the main hub of the laboratory to walk down the corridor, which felt as though it was turning downwards into a basement level of sorts. Once there, they came to a tall door which Ienzo unlocked with some sort of biometric scanner, and this opened out into yet another laboratory space with a similar layout to the first - however, this one seemed in a less presentable condition than the other, and its lack of windows seemed to be what was giving it a more foreboding presence. There was a distinct sense that something bad had happened here, once upon a time.

“After you and the other Guardians of Light helped to defeat Master Xehanort,” Ienzo was saying to Aqua, “we went back to the Keyblade Graveyard to see if there was anything to salvage from the battlefield, and we were able to bring this back with us.”

He gestured to a container at the far wall, in which the two Keyblade wielders could now see a strange white figure suspended inside, resembling a featureless mannequin. It appeared to be dressed in some kind of dark robes, of a dull purple colour inlaid with sharp red motifs, worn over pieces of tarnished metal armour. A number of scuffs and dents littered the otherwise-smooth surface, and Aria could sense traces of a dark presence seeping from the container, despite the blank nature of the figure itself.

“What is this..?”

“This is one of the replicas that Even created, back when he was still Vexen, and a member of the first Organisation.” Ienzo explained. “The first twelve were prototypes, initially abandoned as failures, since they were made before his assistant provided the data needed to perfect them, but.. From what I understand, the real Organisation - which Vexen was also a part of at the beginning - repurposed those twelve into vessels for Xehanort’s heart, as backups in case the people they brought through time fell in battle again.”

“That’s right, I remember fighting these now.” muttered Aqua. “But, didn’t they fuse into one form, eventually?”

“That’s what I thought, too, from your accounts of the situation.” replied the scientist. “I’m not sure if Sora defeating the replicas in battle made them all separate out again, since they weren’t really designed to be fused, or if this one was already too damaged to combine with the others in the first place. Regardless, it was the only one we recovered.”

He now turned to face the blank figure with a concerned expression. “We’ve been running some experiments to see whether it can be repurposed for anything, but.. There’s a lot of darkness still lingering within it, so it wouldn’t be safe for a heart of light to inhabit without risking it also being afflicted by that darkness. And we haven’t found a good way of destroying that darkness without compromising the replica, either.”

“I could sense the dark power when I saw it, so corruption would seem a likely outcome.” Aria mused. “This would also be darkness from Xehanort, so.. it isn’t that surprising that some part of it stuck around. Persistence did seem to be his only worthwhile trait.”

She had crossed her arms in contempt at this last part, but seemed satisfied enough to relax after studying the replica further. “It shouldn’t matter any more than he did in the long run, though.”

“Hmm..” Aqua seemed concerned about the prospect, but was trying to keep an open mind. “What do you make of it, Aria?”

“Well..” She took a moment to examine the figure with an unchanging expression. “The replica body itself has sustained some damage from the fight, but I don’t see why that would affect my ability to inhabit it - it’s just possible that those injuries would reflect in my new appearance, which is.. nothing I’m not accustomed to. And, if the heart within a replica determines its appearance, then maybe what’s left of my heart - or, I suppose, the heart that I once was - would be able to smooth over those gaps. Though, if it’s the latter, that could mean my appearance ends up changing, which.. is not what I want.”

Aqua tentatively nodded, but Ienzo seemed more visibly confused.

“I’m sorry to interject, but- what do you mean by “the heart that you once were”? You’re saying that that’s different to your heart, somehow?”

“..In a sense, yes. How do I explain this..?” There was a slight pause as Aria tried to gather her thoughts, and it was clear she was still trying to think by the hesitant nature of her words that followed. She had seen right through to the heart of the man standing before her, which glowed with a newly-restored lustre. It was a heart that sought to help people, and sought knowledge in order to do that, though there were visible flickers of a long-seated regret present as well. Still, it was a heart that she judged would not judge her, so she decided to provide it with the truth she hoped would sate it.

“Though I look mostly human to you, this- isn’t technically my body, however much I treated it as such. If I were to let go of this vessel, or be driven out from her, you would see me as I really am - a Heartless, a flowering thing. However, Heartless are created when a heart is consumed by darkness, so.. surely the appearance I would take if I were to possess a blank replica would be that of the person this heart - my heart - used to belong to. Only, I don’t- I don’t really see myself as him, or as Ves. I am different, I am my own- well, person, if I can even call myself that. Yet, when I imagine my appearance outside of this vessel, I can only see myself as a Heartless. Does that make any sense?”

“I think I follow..” the scientist mumbled, though his still-furrowed brow seemed to indicate otherwise. “So, you kept your memories of who you were, even after turning into a Heartless? Kairi had implied that the same thing happened to Sora, but.. I’d just attributed that to him turning the Keyblade of heart on himself to free her, so it wouldn’t have happened to anyone else.”

This claim caused Aria to shake her head. “To my knowledge, the method is irrelevant; what matters is the intention. The more willingly a person opens their heart to the darkness, the more of their mind they keep when their heart is consumed, and they become a Heartless. I believe this is what happened with Ansem, though he actively sought after darkness so strongly that he retained a human appearance as well as mind. The emblem on his chest was the only way an onlooker could tell his true nature. When it comes to my original self, he was a Keyblade wielder, very similar to what I know of Sora, but… though he certainly did not willingly or deliberately let his heart be consumed, he was able to accept his fate in his final moments, and that is what allowed the Heartless formed at his demise - so, in other words, me - to retain some semblance of mind and self. Just.. not as much of it.”

“Oh. Yes, I think that makes more sense now. Thank you for the clarification.” said Ienzo. He was writing something furiously in a book that seemed to appear out of nowhere, then became startled when he realised his blunder. In an instant, he opened his mouth to ask something, but closed it with relief when Aria’s expression reassured him she did not mind him making notes about her.

It was Aqua’s turn to speak up now. “It’s so interesting to hear about this from you, Aria - but, I can’t say I’ve seen that kind of behaviour in any of the Heartless I’ve fought before. Had you noticed it at any point while we were in the realm of darkness?”

“Not that I can recall.” she replied. “It isn't exactly that common of an occurrence, considering most people’s disdain for the darkness. And, not only that, but..” She turned away from the other two here, and her next words came much more reluctantly again.

“Before I took over Ves, I remember feeling that I was losing myself - all I was driven by was this desire to be complete again, to be human again, but that was fading away over time. Then, when I found her, I didn’t necessarily feel more human, but what sense of humanity I did have was no longer fading away. So, if I hadn’t found her or someone like her in time, I probably would have lost my sense of self completely, and become just as mindless as most other Heartless are. It’s only thanks to the type of Heartless I became that I was even able to possess her in the first place, and.. I didn’t start to truly feel more like a person until I met other Keyblade wielders, and they interacted with me.”

“I see, I see.. So you’re saying that, in those Heartless that retain a sense of who they were before becoming Heartless, the remnants of normal heart behaviour - of humanity, if you will - have to be nurtured by others in order to be sustained, and will just be lost to the darkness if not actively encouraged?”

“Yes.”

Ienzo paused to finish hastily scribbling this knowledge down in his notebook, then lifted his head in realisation once he had had some time to think. “I think I might remember something of that from the old Organisation, actually.. Though, the memory is very hazy..”

To stop his mind from wandering as it wanted to, he returned to address the matter at hand.

“From what you’ve said, Aria, it does sound like you’d be able to make use of this replica - and you may well be the only one who could. I don’t think there’s any other solution here for you, and.. I say there’s no better way to find out than by experimenting. Give me a moment to get everything ready, and then we’ll be set to see if it works!”

Aria nodded, content with the proposal, but Aqua reached out to take her hand with a worried expression.

“Aria, are you sure you want to do this..?”

“Of course I am, Aqua. This is why I came here.” she replied. Then she hesitated again. “..Why, is there something wrong?”

“Well, no, it’s just-” Aqua took a moment to settle her whirling thoughts, holding both of Aria’s hands in her own now. “I don’t know what’s going to happen when I use my Keyblade on you. I don’t want to hurt you, or even destroy you. And, if something happened with the darkness infecting the replica, then..”

Aria couldn’t bring herself to meet Aqua’s gaze, but it was clear she appreciated the consideration, and did her best to reassure her love. “If I could leave of my own accord, I would have done so by now, but.. we’ve become too intertwined for me to do that myself. And Ves is not quite strong enough to drive me out from within - it’s enough of an effort for her to stay existing in the first place. So.. an outside force seems to be the only way to separate us. And there isn’t anyone I’d trust to wield that force, other than you.”

Despite herself, Aqua couldn’t help but smile at the last admission, and she felt her normal confidence returning. “..Alright then. If you’re sure about this, then.. I’m happy to be able to help.”

The two embraced for a moment, then there was a pause of silence as Aria took a few steps back to stand in the middle of the room. Once Ienzo had brought the replica out of its container, he carried it around to the other end of the laboratory, closer to the other two. Aqua summoned her Brightcrest Keyblade, then slowly raised its tip to be level with the X on Aria’s outfit. She took a deep breath, then pointed the Keyblade directly at her partner, echoing the movement used to open the paths to new worlds.

Aria instinctively flinched when a thin beam of bright light shot forward from the tip of Aqua’s Keyblade, striking her directly in the chest. She was then forced down into a kneel as an aura of pink-tinted darkness began to escape from her body. Her expression was grim, as if she was in pain, but Aqua caught sight of a hint of a smile before the darkness now emanating much more rapidly from her form started rising up to create something above her. It almost completely engulfed her body as if to pull it upwards too, seeming particularly concentrated around her head and wings, before disconnecting entirely to drop a drained figure to the floor. This left a dense collection of dark pink wisps, amalgamating in the air.

Ienzo was now well off to the side, looking rather alarmed, but his expression was replaced with complete surprise when the amorphous cluster of darkness coalesced, giving way to what looked like a floating mass of pink petals. Eventually, it turned around to reveal a large jagged mouth and piercing yellow eyes, staring with an expression he found difficult to interpret. The Heartless stayed floating in place for a moment, as if disoriented, then suddenly appeared to notice Aqua, staring at her curiously.

“Aria..?”

Her tentative call was clearly recognised by the flowering monster, which began to float cautiously towards her. She still had her Keyblade summoned, and her hand was trembling ever-so-slightly - whether with nervousness, uncertainty, or something else entirely, it was impossible to tell. Then, Ienzo stepped between the two and lifted up the replica body, hoping that Aria still remembered the plan.

“Here!”

It seemed the Heartless remained aware, as she moved forwards more purposefully after this, and collided directly with the empty vessel’s centre. A few petals scattered from the force, but it took only a few moments for the Heartless’ form to disappear entirely, appearing to be absorbed into the replica body. This caused another aura of darkness to manifest, enveloping the blank surface of the replica and making Ienzo recoil from the body - but it caught itself as it fell from his grasp to end up kneeling on all fours. A few more moments passed, as the darkness engulfed the entire body in a shell, before gradually dissipating after a few gold sparks were seen being forced out of the system.

The figure that stood up was slightly smaller than the replica had looked in the container, with catlike ears now poking upwards from a fluffy head of golden blonde hair. As she lifted her head, a cluster of cute freckles were seen scattered across her face, though in what Aqua thought was a slightly different arrangement than before. There were other little differences here and there, as well - the shape of her face, the way her hair fell at the back, how she stood dressed in the unfamiliar clothes from the replica in the middle of the silent laboratory.

But all of Aqua’s worries disappeared when the girl standing before her opened her eyes. Neither the bright, empty yellow of the lesser, mindless Heartless, nor a piercing orange like the seeker of darkness, nor even the harsh cold shade between the two that Aria’s eyes had been before, but a warm and resolute amber was the colour that met Aqua’s gaze, and regarded her with a renewed sense of gratitude and love.

“Aria!”

The Keyblade Master ran across the room towards her partner and nearly knocked her over with the energy of her emotions. Aria was nervous, but comfortably allowed herself to melt into Aqua’s embrace, now able to feel the connection between the pair even more strongly than before. Something felt so much more tangible about her presence now, and the relief coursing through her new body was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“Aqua, it really worked..!” she smiled, speaking in a quiet voice filled with gratitude.

“I’m so glad you’re alright!” exclaimed Aqua, who also had a few tears in her eyes. “How do you feel? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s all fine, I promise.” she asserted. “The replica’s darkness was not organised; it was just remnants that my presence has removed. I feel.. different, but in the best possible way. I could never have done this without you here with me - thank you, so much, for being here..”

She trailed off, still smiling at her partner, and another wonderful moment came and went. Then, a movement from behind Aqua caused Aria’s expression to take on a slightly fearful quality, and she turned her head to see what was happening. The cause of this movement was the figure left behind when Aqua set Aria free, who was slowly trying to get to her feet, her heart’s light flickering nervously. A bright green eye could be seen darting anxiously around the room from under her hair, but she was too weak to properly move, and quickly fell back to the ground again. Ienzo stepped in to support her, and his assistance was clearly welcomed as she was just about able to stand.

“Please take her somewhere she can recover.” Aria requested hurriedly. “After everything I put her through, she needs every opportunity she can to rest and adjust to being herself again..”

“Don’t worry. We have good facilities here.” Ienzo assured her. “Everything will be fine.”

This did little to ease Aria’s guilt, but the gesture was nevertheless appreciated. “Thank you, Ienzo.”

The scientist nodded, and then slowly helped the girl walk to the corridor. She appeared to be very shaken, and was glancing at everything with apprehension and unfamiliarity, but as she turned the corner of the corridor, she looked back at the couple still standing side-by-side, and met the eyes of both her saviour and her prison.

(For all that you have done to me, I know why you do not deserve forgiveness.

But, this is not the first time we have seen each other face-to-face since that day, thanks to that mirror you found in the darkness.

And ever since that moment, you have sought a way to free yourself from me. To let me live the life you once denied me. To break the hold that any other being you’d call your kind would do everything to strengthen.

You calculated the risks, but you still took them - the risk you would lose everything and the one person you cared for, for the sake of me getting to “get rid of you”.

So, who am I to judge a person - the person you have become - by the actions of the creature you once were..?)

A ghost of a smile flickered over her face, and the long-held vessel finally free again spoke of her own accord for the first time since the age of ancient fairytales.

“Thank you, Aria..”

[shingia]

　　　　　　❝𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓❞

　　　　　　　　　𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

　　　　　— 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 —

— word count : 2.3K

— if you want a quick preview of the atmosphere of this fic, you should definitely click on the title’s link...

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so his name is suna.

or at least that’s what you hear osamu call him on your way to the sports hall, as you’re walking a few steps ahead of them - listening to your friends’ debate on whether or not you should tell the others about the radio.

you waited about ten minutes in bokuto’s kitchen. the song seems to be playing on loop.

“there’s no point in hiding it from them” kenma speaks up for what you believe to be the first time, “especially if we can’t turn it off, they’ll hear it sooner or later”

he’s right. and it seems like you’re all avoiding to talk about how that radio’s aura is frighteningly morbid.

once again, kuroo’s the first one to speak, after clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention : « thank you all for coming » he starts a bit hesitantly. « um- akaashi and i were the first ones up this morning, so i’m going to let him tell you our thoughts regarding this.. absolute fucking mess »

once again, kuroo’s the first one to speak, after clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention : « thank you all for coming » he starts a bit hesitantly. « um- akaashi and i were the first ones up this morning, so i’m going to let him tell you our thoughts regarding this.. absolute fucking mess »

once again, kuroo’s the first one to speak, after clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention : « thank you all for coming » he starts a bit hesitantly. « um- akaashi and i were the first ones up this morning, so i’m going to let him tell you our thoughts regarding this.. absolute fucking mess »

it’s obvious that akaashi wasn’t prepared at all to be brought to the forefront. but encouraging thumbs up from bokuto and you, who are respectfully standing on his left and his right, seem to boost his confidence at least a tiny bit. you almost can’t hear the tremors in his voice :

it’s obvious that akaashi wasn’t prepared at all to be brought to the forefront. but encouraging thumbs up from bokuto and you, who are respectfully standing on his left and his right, seem to boost his confidence at least a tiny bit. you almost can’t hear the tremors in his voice :

sat in the front row, you see konoha doing his best to make everyone behind him keep their mouths shut.

« but kuroo told me to share my thoughts, so that’s what i’m going to do… » he stops for a bit, scans the crowd with concerned eyes, then takes a deep breath : « i don’t think there is a way out. at least not like that »

at his words, even you have trouble to remain silent. you’re still standing up next to him, you’re not supposed to look like you’re losing your composure - but if he’s saying the truth, then you might need to sit down and join the crowd.

« but it only means that we need to think smart ! » he keeps going, almost screaming to be heard above everyone else’s voices as you decide to go sit next to konoha, « we need to gather all the food we can find. maybe even ration it ».

you’ve rarely heard him speak so fast. « we have to be mindful of our water and electricity consumption… and, i think we should share houses because 37 seven people living in 30 houses would be a terrible choice to make ».

this is a lot to take in. even for kuroo who was supposed to know about this, yet looks as lost as the rest of you.

but in the chaos, and as insults are thrown all around you, your gaze is progressively drawn to the most quiet person of the entire group.

kenma, who was standing next to kuroo this whole time, is now slowly walking up to akaashi with intrigued eyes and his arm hesitantly stretched out, as if he’s afraid to even touch him.

and when he finally does, it’s only to move a few strands of hair away from behind his ear. 

saying that akaashi looks confused would be an euphemism. same goes for kuroo who’s watching from afar. but kenma is quick to give them an explanation, as he puts his own hair up to reveal something behind his right ear :

in black ink, the number 20 is written on his skin.

kuroo’s eyes widen in surprise, as he pulls his phone out of his pocket to try and see in the reflection of the screen if he also has one. based on the way his jaw slackens in shock, you deduce that yes, he does.

quickly, without even realizing that your arms have started moving, you turn to your right where atsumu has just sat down, and - as expected - your eyes are quick to spot on another number. his number : the 17.

« what the fuck ?! » he exclaims at the feeling of your fingers brushing against the ink.

but you don’t even think about apologizing for what you just did.

« tell me what you can read » you immediately ask with a pressing tone, pointing at your ear. but atsumu seems too confused to answer you as quick as you’d like him to. luckily, it’s not osamu’s case. much quicker on his feet, he’s already read the one on suna’s skin.

« you’re 25. and he’s 33 » he tells you, pointing at his friend before showing him his own ear.

« 36 » suna informs him with a stern face.

around you, nobody seems to notice kenma’s discovery. at least not until kuroo claps in his hand three times to get everyone’s attention back - the echo against the walls makes it even more effective.

it doesn’t take long for the entire group to understand the orders : tell the person on your left which number is written on their skin, then state your number out loud for kenma to write it down. starting with akaashi, who’s apparently number 1.

« maybe we just all got tattooed yesterday… » atsumu proposes with a shrug, « i mean, most of us were completely wasted, it could’ve happened ». 

he seems to be the least alarmed of the group - except maybe for suna who hasn’t spoken more than a word. at least not until now :

« please run me over with a bus if i got a matching tattoo with these people » he mumbles, throwing disdainful glances around him as he tries to erase his number by rubbing his skin with two fingers.

but kita firmly grabs his wrist before his skin can even turn red : « well i wasn’t ‘completely wasted’ yesterday. and i can assure you that we didn’t get these tattoos ourselves »

nobody dares to say it out loud. but based on how the twins gulp with difficulty, and the way suna almost agressively lets go of kita’s wrist, you’re all thinking the same thing :

if you didn’t tattoo each other, someone or something else must have done it. but who, when and why are questions that still remain.

the list is complete in a matter of minutes, because apparently, realizing that a tattoo has mysteriously appeared behind your ear seems to be a good way to make everyone finally behave. probably afraid of the fact that, the more hours pass, the less this situation makes sense.

«obviously we don’t know the meaning behind these numbers… » akaashi starts after the name of number 37 is written down. but your attention is diverted from his voice by the sound of suna’s. it’s only a whisper, but it’s loud enough for the twins and you to hear it. 

« it means we’re fucking puppets in this shithole »

it’s awfully tempting to finally tell him to shut up unless he has something constructive to say (which has not happened yet). but something tells you that it wouldn’t be right. because, deep down, you know he’s telling the truth. whatever it is that brought you here, it’s bigger and stronger than you. akaashi must know it too.

speaking of him - and thanks to suna’s intervention -  you just realize that you’ve missed a part of his speech.

« ...kuroo and i did some calculations. our best option would be to split in three groups, and to pick three houses to move in for the time being… houses that must be big enough to welcome twelve or thirteen people ».

the sports hall remains silent, as if everyone is trying to remember the size of every house in town. and it only takes less than a minute for someone to make a proposition, a boy sat in the middle of the stands :

« well, your house is big enough, akaashi… »

your friend shakes his head approvingly, obviously he saw that coming.

« …then there’s the house next to the elementary school »

a girl in the crowd raises her hand : « that’s mine. i don’t mind sharing it ». 

« there was bokuto’s house but we broke the shower yesterday… »

in a corner of your eye, you see kuroo slapping his hand over bokuto’s mouth to keep him from yelling his indignation, before mentioning the boy to keep going : « and i guess i can share mine too… »

now that the three house are designated, the sports hall turns into a literal beehive : everyone’s running towards one of the three house owners, to make sure they’ll have their spot in their group.

as much as you disapproved of the previous chaos, you have to admit that you also start running - leaving the twins and suna to join akaashi’s group as quickly as possible, where kuroo, bokuto, konoha and kenma already seem to have gotten their entries.

« the roommates i’ve always dreamed of » kuroo satisfyingly sighs while successfully looking at this half of the group.

« same bro » bokuto approves as he nudges his friend, glad that there’s finally one thing he can rejoice about.

slowly, the bustle comes to an end. three distinct group have emerged, and things look organized for the very first time.

well… they would have, if only suna and the twins had chosen a group. but it seems like - unlike kita who’s already joined akaashi’s group - they were too slow to make a decision, and now they have no choice but to split up. 

« well… » bokuto clears his throat, « i know we’ve reached our maximal capacity but… maybe we can make an exception and still welcome them ? right, akaashi ? »

obviously the latter doesn’t look thrilled by the idea. but if him, who seems to have become some kind of leader for all 37 of you, starts to refuse to show sympathy and mercy, things won’t turn out well.

but - luckily for him - he doesn’t even have time to give an answer. osamu does it for him : 

« actually, we’d rather not live with you guys. i mean, no offense but… »

and his twin takes over, their voices so identical that you wouldn’t have noticed it if your eyes had been closed : « …but we don’t want to live by other people’s rules. so we decided that we were going to find ourselves a fourth home ».

you’re not even sure how it’s possible, but the silence around you just became heavier. only thing breaking it is suna’s voice, because apparently, he also has something to say :

« everyone’s welcome to join, obviously. because as you can see, there’s no leader here », he grins - and it’s most condescending smile you’ve ever seen...

« so if you ever get tired of obeying any of these people » he continues, pointing successively at the three house owners, but lingering on akaashi - as well as the people around him, « our door is wide open »

« literally, we might have to break the door to get inside the house, so... » atsumu adds, but receives a quick yet efficient slap on the back of his head that makes him shut up.

and with one last look to kita, the three of them leave without another word.

« they’ll be back » bokuto smiles with a shrug, in a desperate attempt at defusing the tension.

but kita knows them better than anyone here : « no they won’t ».

the rest of the day is much more peaceful than the hectic morning you’ve all had to go through. mostly because almost everyone is still hungover, and that no decisions can be make with alcohol fogging the brains of thirty out of seven people.

throughout the afternoon, that you spend cleaning bokuto’s house, many curious people stop by to check whether or not the « mysterious radio » akaashi has talked about is still playing. and it is, making it impossible to forget about your condition.

the evening, on the other hand, is a bit more similar to the morning...

it’s 10pm when you enter akaashi’s kitchen, where kita is still sat around the table even though dinner ended two hours ago. « still no news of your friends ? » you ask him with worried eyes.

« no... but i told you guys : don’t expect to see them come crawling back to us. suna’s got too much pride for that. and the twins won’t leave him behind »

wouldn’t be that big of a loss... you catch yourself thinking as your eyes lay on the black ‘14’ behind kita’s ear.

you’d like to say something to comfort him, to let him know that he’s got a friend in you. in all of you who are living under the same roof as him actually. but bokuto and kuroo’s heavy footsteps down the wooden stairs catch your attention before you can even say a word.

« did you guys see the moon?! » bokuto asks with wide eyes.

elbows propped on the counter, you share a confused look with kita.

« no, what’s wrong with it? » he asks kuroo, since bokuto’s already ran to the backyard.

the black-haired boy’s eyes aren’t as wide as his friend’s, but they hold as much panic. yet his voice stays calm when he answers :

« it disappeared. so did the stars », before hurriedly following bokuto outside. and obviously, you and kita are too curious not to go after him...

and what you see outside almost makes the radio seem like a silly joke now. because nothing is as morbid as a sky without its moon.

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[andrei-svech]

today, tomorrow and all of our lives | n. mackinnon

Word Count: 7.3k Warnings: Some smut in the middle, swearing, minor character death. Summary: Leah reflects on her relationship with Nate through a series of memories they’ve shared in the minutes before they say I do.  a/n: Full disclosure this is the first piece I’ve written in almost 10 years. It turned out way longer than expected and I am so terrified to post it but I hope you all love it as much as I do. Any and all feedback is appreciated, happy reading! 

As she looked into the mirror, running her fingers over the white silk lining her frame, all she felt was calm. Peace. She’d surprised herself in that regard. She’d expected nerves, expected anxiousness, but she didn’t feel either. She simply felt calm. Her fingers moved up toward the tulle settled neatly in her hair, then ran down the fabric of what had once been her grandmother’s veil. Her something borrowed. She thought of her grandmother then, of the relationship between her and her grandfather, one that had lasted almost sixty years before they’d left this life together, just months apart and still madly in love. The kind of love she’d hoped for as she watched them as a child, then as a teen, then as an adult. The same kind of love she felt she’d found when she met him. Her eyes closed, thinking back to the day she’d first laid eyes on him.

The excited little voices of the children filing back into her classroom brought a small smile to Leah’s face in an instant. Kindergarten had just finished art, and as she watched them come in and sit back at their tables, she silently thanked Mrs. Claskey for the lack of paint on their clothes and hands. There’d been a small (according to Mrs. Claskey, not so much to Leah) incident last week at the very end of art class that had somehow ended in Jack Ledger’s entire right arm and half of his shirt covered in brown paint. Of course the 5th graders had already been lined up at the door waiting to come in, so Mrs. Claskey hadn’t had time to clean him up. That’d been a fun afternoon at the sink for Jack and Leah. Once all of the children were seated, Leah stood from her rocking chair at the front of the room and raised her hand. Her students followed suit, having been conditioned to quiet down and raise their own hands when she did so. Their hands lowered as she began to speak.

“Alright, my friends. I know we’re excited, today’s a special day for us. We have new friends coming to spend time with us this week! Do we remember who they are?” As soon as she finished, little hands all over the room shot back up. Leah looked around, pointing to the tiny blonde in the far too large and, Leah suspected second hand, Avalanche jersey dead center. “Emory, who are they?” “The Colorado Avalanche, Ms. Brewer! They play hockey here, at the Pepsi Center! My dad says some day they’ll win the… the um…” “The Stanley Cup?” Leah supplied. That and what information Emory had spoken aloud was about all she knew of them as well, not really following the sport herself. “Yes!” Emory continued, “The Stanley Cup!” Leah nodded and clasped her hands together. “Good job Emory that’s right! Some of the players from the Avalanche are coming to meet us this afternoon. They’re just as excited to meet you as you are to meet them. But before we can do that, we need to talk about the rules for when we have guests in our classroom.” A small groan sounded throughout the room and Leah giggled under her breath. “Okay, okay. I know talking about our rules isn’t always fun, but we want to show them how kind and polite we can be, right?” Twenty-two heads nodded, so she continued. “Good! Okay, who can tell me our rules then? Thomas?” Her gaze fixed on the quiet boy in the back corner, smiling slightly at him as he straightened up in his chair. Leah had been subtly attempting to bring Thomas out of his shell throughout his time in her class. As she remembered his silence and lack of eye contact at the beginning of the year, she felt nothing but pride for how far he’d come. “We don’t leave our spot at the carpet unless you or our guest says that we can. We sit criss cross applesauce and don’t touch our friends while we’re listening. When we want to talk or as a question, we raise our hands until someone calls on us. And we always show kindness to our friends, our visitors and our teachers.” Leah felt a swell of pride at the last bit. She had a great group of kids this year, and though she knew she shouldn’t play favorites, if she’d had a list this class would be up at the top for years to come. Teaching at a school in a low income area of Denver wasn’t what she’d expected herself to do after graduation, but she adored it all the same, and the children she’d taught were all incredibly special to her.

“Good, Thomas! But there’s one more rule we forgot, the most important rule. I know we remember, so how about let’s all say it together?” “Have fun!” “Yes! Have fun! I don’t think it’ll be hard with these new friends.” She glanced up at the clock then that read one o’clock on the dot. “Okay friends, time to make our way to the carpet! Please find your spot in our circle.” As her students got up and made their way to their seats in front of the rocking chair, she heard multiple people enter her room and all twenty-three heads, including her own, turned toward the intruders. Leah studied them for a moment as they made their way through the desks toward the group. There were two of them, both in blue and burgundy jerseys graced with the numbers 29 and 92 and an A and a C, respectively. Excited gasps and whispers filled the front of the room. The first to reach them was 92, and probably the most conventionally attractive man Leah had ever seen in person. His perfectly straight, shining white teeth were on full display, a wide grin stretch prominently across his face. His attention was focused solely on the children, so Leah looked past him and settled her eyes on the other, 29. She was surprised to find his attention fixed on her. She was also surprised at the butterflies that filled her stomach when her eyes met his. The bright blue staring back at her was like a shock to her system. She felt herself blush and quickly averted her gaze down to the jeans, white tank top and baggy yellow cardigan she’d pulled from her closet that morning. ‘Probably would have been a good day to dress it up a bit, Leah.’ She quickly shook herself from her thoughts and smiled at 92, still unable to meet the eyes of 29. “Hi there! I’m Ms. Brewer. We’ve all really been looking forward to this, I know they have especially.” Leah gestured to her excited students, some of the visibly trying to stop themselves from squirming in their places. He smiled at her and took her outstretched hand, shaking it and then setting his sights back to the children. “Hi everybody, we’ve been really excited to meet you! I’m Gabe, and this is Nate.” He gestured behind him to number 29. Nate. The name bounced around her head like a stray pinball. Nathan Mackinnon. She remembered seeing his face plastered over billboards downtown, along with that of who she now remembered 92 to be, captain Gabriel Landeskog. The two large hockey players sat in the admittedly too small chairs in front of the group, and Leah quietly made her way to the corner of the room, plopping in her desk chair to watch the interaction between Gabe, Nate and her students. As they excitedly asked and answered questions and talked about school, hockey and life in general (as much as five and six year old children could), Leah found herself unable to look away from Nate. He wasn’t handsome in the way that Gabe was. His nose and teeth were slightly crooked, and his jaw a bit more squared, but she found him incredibly attractive all the same. He smiled brightly at the group of children in front of him and enthusiastically spoke with them, his laugh speeding up the butterflies she still felt. She again found herself shaking her from her own thoughts, looking down at the papers on her desk. Leah hadn’t dated anyone seriously since her disastrous relationship with Scott had ended just before her college graduation. They had met in high school and began dating junior year, when they were both far too young and impulsive to have actually found the kind of love that was meant to last. They were two different people from the start, Scott preferring to get plastered at a large house party, Leah preferring to spend her Friday night on the couch under a blanket watching bad television. They had somehow lasted through their first three and a half years of college together, though they spent large chunks of it arguing or in silence, before Leah had discovered that the last seven months of their relationship he’d spent in bed with a blonde he’d met in one of his classes. She’d been devastated, but deep down she’d known he wasn’t the man she was meant to marry. Following graduation, she’d packed her things, picked up and moved to Denver for a fresh start, and hadn’t looked back since. She blamed her lack of dating for her current thoughts about Nate. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she was surprised when she heard one of her students saying her name, immediately turning her attention back to the carpet ready to answer, though she found Millie still speaking to Gabe and Nate. “-she’s the best! She’s so much fun, even when she’s making us do our counting worksheets. Ooh, she lets us sing our weather song every morning, that’s my favorite part of the day.” Millie turned towards Leah and spoke directly to her, “Ms. Brewer, can you sing the song for them! It’s so much fun, they’ll love it.” Leah blushed slightly but chuckled as all twenty-two excited smiles and two curious pairs of eyes turned towards her. “Why don’t we all sing it together? Show them how great we are at it.” Leah led the excited group through their morning weather song about the rain, the snow, the wind and the sunshine and as they finished (loudly) she once again looked at the two blonde men and found Gabe smiling widely at the class while Nate looked at her with a small smile of his own. Her face warmed yet again as they all began clapping and laughing at her as she grinned and took a small bow in her chair. Conversation between Gabe and her students continued, but for a long moment Nate’s gaze remained fixed on her. She looked down at the papers on her desk again, trying not to read too much into his glances that were frequently aimed at her. All too quickly the two men stood from the chairs and bid goodbye to the students and after a collective “aww” and a round of high fives, left the room to meet the fifth graders waiting for them in the gym. As Leah focused on getting her students back to their seats at their tables, she didn’t notice Nate casting one last look through the door as they left, his eyes only set on her. By three o’clock all of her students were gone and Leah made her way around the room, cleaning up leftover trash and wiping the crumbs from their end of day snack from the tables. She jumped as she heard the deep voice coming from just outside her door. “Hi, did you need some help?” Her head snapped towards the voice and her eyes again met the bright blue that hadn’t left her mind for the rest of the afternoon. The small smile she’d gotten before was present on Nate’s face as he watched her drop the wad of colored paper in her hands into the trash. “Oh no thank you, I’ll be okay here.” She silently willed the butterflies dancing around her stomach and the blush painting her cheeks to go away as he stepped further into the classroom and waved her off, starting to push the chairs into the tables as he spoke again. “It’s no problem, it’ll go faster if we work together. Besides, Gabe’s somewhere shooting extra footage with our media team and this’ll get me out of that.” They both chuckled at that and she nodded, keeping her eyes averted as she helped push in the chairs. “I’m Nathan. Mackinnon. Nathan Mackinnon. But, um, everybody just sort of calls me Nate.” “Nice to meet you, Nate. I’m Leah, Leah Brewer.” She knew there were nerves in her voice, but she didn’t know if she’d imagined the hint of them in his. They worked in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. “So, Leah, are you from Denver?” She shook her head. “No, I grew up in Murraysville. It’s in Pennsylvania, just outside of Pittsburgh.” He lit up a bit, turning towards her fully. “One of my best friends lives there, plays for the Penguins. Sidney’s his name, Sidney Crosby.” She shot him a playfully unimpressed glance as she stopped pushing in the chair. “Now Nate. I may not know much about hockey, but I can assure you, even I know who Sidney Crosby is.” She laughed quietly at the blush that tinted his cheeks and he chuckled along with her, shaking his head. “Yeah that was stupid, sorry.” They kept on cleaning up the last of the classroom until he plopped into the last chair. “So, what brought you to Denver all the way from the East Coast?”
 Leah figured that since he’d sat down, he wasn’t planning on leaving right away, so she made her way to her rocking chair. She thought for a moment before she answered. It wasn’t like she could come right out and tell him Scott had emotionally destroyed her, so she settled for the cliche, generic answer she gave most people when they asked her. “I graduated from college and just… needed a fresh start.” He nodded slightly, but by the look he gave her, she knew he was curious for more. He didn’t press her, and the small talk moved onto other things, her job, then his job and then their families and friends. The conversation flowed so easily between them. By the time she realized almost forty-five minutes had passed, they were laughing and sharing stories as if they’d known each other for years, not hours. “Oh, it’s almost four o’clock, you should probably get back to Gabe and the rest of your team.” He sighed as they both looked at the clock, like he knew she was right but also like he didn’t want to leave. “You’re right. It was really nice meeting you though.” He stood from the chair as she returned the sentiment and turned to leave the room. He’d made it almost fully out the door before he stopped and turned around asking her one last question. “Listen, I don’t… this might be a little forward, I- would you maybe want to go out to dinner sometime? With me? Like, as a date?” She stared at him in surprise for a moment and then thought about her answer. Sure, she hadn’t really dated much since Scott, but it had been three years and thousands of miles since then. And there was something about Nate that intrigued her, something that had caused the butterflies to erupt the minute they’d made eye contact. Something that made her answer fairly easy. “Sure, Nate, I’d really like that.” The memory flooded away as she opened her eyes and looked back into the mirror. One dinner date had led to another, which had led to a few more, then spending the night at her place and then his. She’d met Cox then, which she was glad had gone well because, as Nate had told her later, he couldn’t date somebody Cox didn’t like. That had led to her meeting his teammates and their significant others, and him meeting her friends. That summer when his season and her semester had ended, they traveled to Murraysville where he met her family, and Nova Scotia where she met his. Before they knew it a little over a year had flown by and they’d bought their first house together. She chuckled at that memory, instantly thinking back to the mess of hockey players that had filled their home the day they moved in. “Josty come on, man! The box says fragile!” Leah giggled from her place in the kitchen at the sound of JT’s voice echoing down the hallway, and then at Nate’s voice, floating in from his spot in their living room. “Don’t break any more of my shit, Josty, you know I still haven’t forgiven you and Z for the broken lamp from the Christmas party.” Mel snorted across the counter, Jackie shaking her head as Leah placed the last of the bowls in the cabinet. “They’re a fucking mess, the whole group of them.” Jackie and Mel laughed and nodded in agreement before moving to start on loading the cutlery into the drawers. Leah made her way from the kitchen into the living room, passing by Gabe, EJ and Naz walking to the front door to pull more of the heavier pieces of furniture from the truck. “Thank you guys again for helping us with all of this. No way Nate could have done all the heavy lifting himself the softie.” She smirked at the indignant ‘hey!’ that came from their sofa and the boys chuckled before assuring her again it was no problem and heading for the door, EJ jostling her on his way. She rolled her eyes but smiled at the toothless grin she got in return, passing them to plop down next to her boyfriend, leaning heavily into his side and closing her eyes with a yawn as he lightly kissed her forehead. “Tired, baby?” “Mhm.” As she opened her eyes again, she finally took the chance to look around their living room, the large bay windows bathing the room in sunlight. Boxes were scattered around, the television still waiting to be mounted above the fireplace and the shelves empty, save for one photo. Her eyes landed on it and she smiled fondly, one of her favorites of the two of them. It was taken in Cole Harbour on one of their last trips. They sat together on the boat, her leaning against his side with his arms wrapped around her, much like they were now. They’d gone for a sunset cruise with Sid and Kathy and Tyson and Emma who had also come back up north, just chatting and enjoying the company when Kathy told them to pose, that the sunset created the perfect backdrop behind them. As they leaned into each other and smiled at the camera, Tyson said something from just beside Kathy that had drawn her attention as Kathy snapped the photo. She’s laughing in his direction in the photo, still leaning against Nate who’s smile is directed only at her. The love between the two of them is obvious, which is exactly why it’s one of her favorites. Leah is drawn from the memory captured in the photo when she feels Nate’s lips on the top of her head again and the smile on her face grows even wider. She listens to the sounds of a pot clattering to the floor in the kitchen followed by Jackie’s voice scolding EJ and Gabe and Mel laughing, Josty, JT and Burky pushing each other around in the hallway and Nate’s slow, even breathing right beside her on the couch. As her eyes closed once more, she couldn’t remember if she’d ever in her life felt as happy as she did in that moment. Nate’s fingers ran through her hair and she pulled slightly out of his embrace, taking a moment to silently study the man she’d so quickly found herself falling madly in love with. “What’s on your mind?” he asks her, and she finds herself overwhelmed with emotion as she tries to put her thoughts into words. “I love our friends. I love our new house, but I love even more that we get to make it a home. I love this life that I get to build with you. I love you Nate.” The silent exchange that directly followed was just as meaningful, if not more so, than the words she’d just spoken. She could feel it. He’d felt it too. “I love you, too.” He hadn’t said much, but what he had said had told her everything she needed to know. She’s yanked quickly from that memory as the door to the bridal suite opens. Linnea flounced into the room in her white tulle dress, looking every bit the little princess they all considered her to be. Mel shuffled in behind her before the door is closed again. The soft pink of her dress perfectly complimented her blonde hair and pale skin, amplifying her beauty even further. Mel and Gabe were two of the best things to come from her relationship with Nate, quickly becoming some of her very best friends. Through every hardship or struggle she’d faced during her relationship with Nate he’d been right there beside her, but the Landeskogs had been right there on her other side. She still feels a jolt of happiness when she remembers finding out about Linnea for the first time, and the first time she got to hold her. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face as they entered the room, fiddling with the small diamond bracelet Mel had given to her as a gift the night before from both her and Gabe, her something new. Mel snorted, joking “What, already thinking about the honeymoon?” Of course she hadn’t been before, but she started to now, and she quickly tried to ignore the tingle she felt between her legs at the next memory, one from just a few weeks ago.     “Oh fuck, yes.” Leah’s eyes were shut tightly, mouth wide open, one of Nate’s arms thrown across her lower stomach to keep her from squirming as his tongue slowly circled her clit. She was panting, hard, one of her hands wound tightly in his blonde hair while the other held onto their headboard. She’d already come once on his fingers, but he hadn’t shown any signs of slowing down. He groaned as he pulled away slightly, his mouth and chin covered in her wetness and let his eyes roam back up her body, flushed, until they met hers. “Fucking love your pussy, baby.” He dove back into her cunt then like it was a five-course meal as she tightened her grip on him and moaned loudly, her body thrashing and hurtling toward her second climax. She’d found out early on in their relationship that in contrast to how soft he was with her normally, in bed Nate was filthy. And she fucking loved it. They both shared a high sex drive, and when they first started dating, they’d gone at it like rabbits. In the morning in the shower before she left for work, on their couch when he’d gotten home from a game, one particularly exciting afternoon when he’d come home after practice and laid her out on his kitchen table. They constantly got each other off over FaceTime or Skype when he was on the road, and on their first bye week together they spent almost the entire five days of their trip fucking on every surface of the villa they’d rented. She’d been sore for almost a week. And after almost four years of dating, it hadn’t really slowed down at all. When Nate moved his tongue from inside her back to her clit, flattening it and shaking his head from side to side, she felt her orgasm crash over her. “Fuuuuck yes!” Her back arched sharply off the bed as she rode out the waves of her high, Nate continuing to lick and suck at her through it. As she worked to catch her breath, he kissed his way back up her body, biting down softly on her neck when he reached her sweet spot. “So sexy when you cum. Think you can give me one more, baby?” Though she was exhausted from the first two orgasms he’d given her, she still nodded enthusiastically and let her hand snake down his body, taking him in her hand and guiding him toward her center. She let out a sigh which turned into a quiet moan as he entered her. Of all the men she’d been with, which though admittedly wasn’t many, Nate was the biggest. His length was average, but he was thick, spreading her open and filling her better than any man ever had before. Their mouths met as he started to move inside of her, swallowing the noises she made. She knew it wouldn’t take much for either of them, her already sensitive from her first two highs and him keyed up from the reactions he’d gotten while giving them to her. As his thrusts picked up in both pace and in power, their kisses turned more into breathing and moaning into each other’s mouths before he moved back down to her neck then down further, taking one of her nipples into his mouth and biting before rolling it between his teeth. “Ah, daddy please, I need to come, I need to come.” She whined, rolling her hips up to meet his the best she could. He kept his pace and shook his head slightly. “Wait baby, wait for daddy. I’ll give you what you need, be patient.” He stopped for a moment and took her ankles into his hands, placing them up over his shoulders and she cried out as he began thrusting against her harder and faster, hitting a spot deeper in her than before. Her breathing went ragged and she struggled to get out anything but whines, which quickly turned into yells, then sobs. “Please daddy! Please, I’m gonna, I can’t- I need to cum!” she clawed at his back, her head lolling back against the pillows as she felt his hips begin to move more frantically and uncontrolled. “Yeah baby, fucking cum for me. Show daddy who makes you feel like this, who’s pussy this is.” She shrieked and seconds later felt her fluids gush around him, pulling a loud groan from him as he followed her over the edge. “Fuuuuuck yeah baby, your pussy feels so good when you cum around me. Fucking angel.” He grunted, filling her with his seed. They’d stopped using condoms six months in and he maintains it was one of the best decisions they’d made. She couldn’t help but agree with him as she felt his warmth pulsing inside of her.   When they’d both given each other everything they had, he dropped down gently over her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her as she trembled through the aftershocks of her third high of the night. Soft kisses were planted across her neck and jaw and she lightly combed her fingers through the sweaty mess of blonde on the nape of his neck. These were some of her favorite moments with Nate. Just after a round of great sex when they just laid catching their breaths in the silence, still connected and just basking in the warmth of being together. All she was capable of thinking about in those moments was the man laying over her and how much she loved him. “I love you baby.” He whispered quietly to her as he pulled away from his place at her shoulder, leaving her with a languid, toe curling kiss on her lips and feelings of love for him swirling around her body. It was Mel snorting again that brought her back to reality and she turned toward the other blonde, realizing she’d been biting her lip as she got caught up in the memory. “Jesus, I was kidding. My child is in the room.” Mel smirked and Linnea answered perfectly with a giggle from her spot in the corner, making both women laugh. She turned back toward the mirror to readjust her veil for what felt like the twentieth time since it’d been put in her hair. Mel continued. “Anyways, we just came by to tell you we’ve got about 15 minutes to go time. Maid of honor duties and all.” She winked making both of them laugh again before she swept Linnea into her arms, heading for the door “We’ll leave you alone now, see you in a bit.” As she exited the room, another woman entered. “My baby. Look at you, you look beautiful.” Her mother moved to stand by her side in the mirror, placing a hand gently on her shoulder, eyes filling with tears as they met hers in the mirror. “Your dad would be so proud, sweetheart.” Her own eyes filled with tears this time and as she closed them, she could hear the beeping of the heart monitor and smell the sterile scent of the hospital as clear as day. She couldn’t breathe. The only word to describe her in that moment was numb. Her eyes traced the wires to the white linen blanket, up to the machine that measured the slow heartbeat of the first man she’d ever loved. A face eerily similar to her own, her father had never looked thinner and paler than he did laying there in his hospital gown. ‘Brain aneurysm. Ruptured. Hemorrhagic stroke.’ The words the doctor had spoken to them rested like a weight in her head and in her chest as she stared down at their hands, hers clutching tightly and his limp and unmoving. She couldn’t cry. Not yet. She’d been holding onto hope for days now that he would wake up, that they could talk about how terribly their Steelers were doing and laugh about the clumsiness of her mother. That they could drive home together in his car, singing terribly along to the old Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin tunes he’d brought her up on. That one day he could walk her down the aisle (‘Not until you’re 30!’) and hold his first grandchild. No matter how many times she’d heard the words braindead and pull the plug, she held onto that hope, the same hope she was starting to feel slip between her fingers. The beeping was the only sound in the room aside from her mother’s sniffling and Nate’s steady breathing. Her parents had divorced just before her fourth birthday, but they’d remained great friends and worked together to raise her, something she didn’t realize how grateful she was for until she reached adulthood. It was only fitting that she, Leah and Nate were the three present at his bedside as two of them were what he always called ‘the loves of his life’ and the third one of his ‘favorite people out there’ as he’d called Nate just a few months before. The doctor entered the room again and when Leah met his gaze it was somber. She looked away almost immediately, knowing what was coming as he started speaking to them again. “I’m sorry, we’ve done all that we can, but we believe at this point it’s about a five percent chance he’ll wake, and if he does, we can almost guarantee significant brain damage. It’s in my medical opinion that you may want to consider pulling him off of the life support.” She felt it then, the first tear slip down her cheek where she sat in the chair by her father’s side. She locked eyes with her mother and they both knew what they had to do. This isn’t the way he would have wanted to live, and that’s if he did, and she wasn’t going to put him through any pain and suffering simply because it would make her happy. An hour later, after the three of them had all spoken their goodbyes and spent their last minutes with him, the machines were turned off. The beeping stopped, her father’s hand, still clutched in her own smaller, softer one went cold. Leah wept. She laid down on the bed beside her father’s body and held him, weeping as the last signs of life left his body. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t get through this. She didn’t want to live a life without her dad’s obnoxiously loud laughter and world famous bear hugs. She didn’t know how she was going to pull herself from the grief crashing over her in waves. Then a warm hand circled her ankle from its place at the foot of the bed, thumb softly smoothing over the skin there. Nate. Her rock, her stability, the calm to help her weather the storm. He’d be right by her side through it, just as he had been in everything else since the day they’d met three years ago. She knew when she felt the letters he was tracing onto her skin. I love you. It was strange but through all of her grief then, she felt the slightest bit of joy, because she also knew that her father had gotten to know and love the man she was going to marry, the love of her life. Her mother quickly pulled a handkerchief from her clutch, chastising both herself and her daughter for ‘ruining her makeup.’ She giggled as she clutched her mother’s hand and then directed a small smile at the pair of sapphire earrings she wore, a gift from her father on her eighteenth birthday and now her something blue. He was there with her, she knew that he was. Quickly wiping at her eyes, she handed the handkerchief back to her mother and went to gather her bouquet from the small table but stopped when her eyes landed on her engagement ring. One that had belonged to Nate’s grandmother, her something old. She floated away into yet another memory, and by far one of the best of her life. The air was crisp and smelled of the first signs of winter as Leah and Nate walked hand in hand down the lakeside pathway through Confluence Park. This was her favorite time of year, filled with memories of pulling out the Christmas decorations far too early with her mother as her father just smirked and shook his head at them. Memories of home games spent with her girls in the family box cheering on the men they loved. Memories of cold mornings spent curled up on the couch with Nate under the blankets, Cox at their feet as they fell in and out of sleep, watching the snowfall through the bay windows. She smiled as Nate gently tugged at Cox’s leash, willing him to slow down as they strolled lazily behind him. “This is my favorite time of year. I know I always complain about how cold it gets, but nothing beats a winter day like this.” Nate brought their joint hands up to his lips to place a kiss and replied, “I know baby. It’s one of my favorite times of year too, just because you love it.” She laughed at the cheesiness of his statement but leaned into his side, looking up at him as they slowed even more. “I love you, you know.” He didn’t reply immediately so she continued walking, only stopping when he did, turning to gaze at him curiously. It was only then that she felt the trembling of his hand still clasped in hers. “Nate? Why are we stopping, are you okay?” Cox whined behind her, probably wondering the same thing. “Yeah baby I’m fine, I just needed to say something and I wanted your full attention when I did.” This intrigued her even further but she didn’t answer, waiting for him to say whatever it is she could see was stewing in there. He stared at her for a moment longer before he started to speak again. “There’s something that I haven’t told you. I spoke to your dad on the phone a few weeks before he died. Spoke to him for quite a while, actually?” Leah was now incredibly confused, so she waited for him to continue. “You know how much I loved and respected him. I don’t know how but in three years he became another father figure to me and I wanted his opinion on something important so I called him to ask.” “What did you ask him?” her interest was thoroughly peaked as Nate’s hand dropped to his pocket, until he pulled out a small velvet box and both hands came to cover her mouth when she realized what was happening. She went completely still, tears already coming to the surface as he took a step closer to her, one of his hands still holding Cox’s leash and the other the box. “I asked him for his blessing.” He looped the leash around his wrist, but Cox was still then, sitting on the pavement at her feet, tail wagging furiously though she knew he had no idea what was occurring. How much her life was about to change. Then Nate took one of her hands from her mouth, her left hand, and held it tightly in his own. “When I was growing up, I watched my parents all the time when they were together, and you could see it in their faces when they looked at each other. It was this pure, real, genuine kind of love that doesn’t scream at you. The kind of love that’s just there, the kind that looks like making each other breakfast or bringing each other the morning paper, the kind that’s sitting on the couch together doing two completely separate things but somehow still being connected, the kind that looks like smiling through raising two children together. I saw other people find it, Mel and Gabe, Erik and Jackie, Sid and Kath. I always wanted that kind of love, but I never believed that I would have it, that I would somehow be lucky enough to find someone that loved me like that or that I could love like that. I think I realized on our third date that even if it wasn’t there yet, I could see that kind of love with you, and then it happened. There isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not thanking whoever’s up there in the sky or wherever they are,” she giggled slightly through her tears at that bit, “that I got lucky enough to fall in love with you. You are everything. You’re kind, you’re witty, you’re intelligent, you’re incredibly beautiful and you’re so loving to everyone around you. But especially me. You’ve loved me through every bad game, through every hotheaded tantrum, through every argument, through every loss and every heartache. It didn’t matter what I was facing, what we were facing, you’ve loved me through all of it and I can only hope to spend the rest of my life giving that love right back to you.” At this point she was ugly crying, clutching his hand so tightly her knuckles were turning white, but he pressed on. “This kind of love, the love we feel for each other is special, once in a lifetime. It doesn’t come around often and my grandma always told me when you find something like it you have to hold on as tightly as you can and never let go. This was hers, actually.” He opened the velvet box then and Leah gasped as she saw the simple round diamond set on a silver band. “After I called your dad to ask for his blessing and he not only told me yes but that he couldn’t be happier not only that his daughter had found someone she loved so much but someone who loved her the way she deserved,” she wept harder at that “I called grandma and told her I had found it, the kind of love she told me to never let go of, and the next time we were in town visiting her she gave me the ring. This ring is from a marriage full of that love and I thought it might be a good luck charm for us, not that we need it.” She laughed loudly at that and he grinned at her, but his smile softened and she found tears to match hers in his eyes as he dropped to one knee. “You’re it for me, baby. My best friend, my soulmate, the love of my life. I’ll never need to wonder again if I’ll ever find this kind of love because hopefully I’ll get to have it with you and the family we’ll build forever. If you say yes, I promise to fall asleep a little more in love with you today, tomorrow and all of our lives. I love you so much. Leah, will you marry me?” She didn’t even need to think, she knew. She’d known for years, just as she was it for him, he was it for her. “Yes. Yes, Nate. I love you. I love you.” He slid the elegant diamond onto her finger and his lips were immediately on hers, kissing her through their laughter and through their tears, over and over again. If you’d ask her, there weren’t words she could put together to describe the love she felt for him in that moment. Everything, every moment and memory that lead them to this place was worth it for the reward of getting to call him her husband for the rest of her life. They spent what felt like hours but could only have been minutes kissing and laughing in that park, elated at the idea of spending their lives together. As they finally pulled away from each other Nate excitedly pulled her left hand forward, flashing it at their dog proudly, making her laugh once again. “Cox, she said yes! Mom and I are getting married.” The knock on the door shook her from her happiest memory, Gabe standing proudly in it’s frame offering her his arm. When she’d thought about who would walk her down the aisle that day, though they’d never fill the void left in her father’s absence, Gabe was the only choice. The older brother she’d never had but had found in him. “Ready to be Mrs. Mackinnon, kid?” The nerves still didn’t come, the calm and the peace remaining. She grabbed the bouquet and crossed the room to take his arm. “Never been more ready in my life.” (+ bonus:) Their bedroom was still save for her husband’s soft snores and the hum of the ceiling fan. The clock on the bedside table next to her that was illuminated by the soft glow coming from her reading lamp read 3:53 am, but she didn’t feel the sleep gripping her like she probably should. She took the quiet moment to glance at the man sleeping soundly beside her, the man she’d called her husband for the last two years but her best friend for far longer. He was the man of her dreams and though they’d faced challenges, she wouldn’t have wanted to face them with anyone else. She scanned quickly back through all the memories she had of their relationship and smiled when they brought back the feelings of intense love between them. And as she looked down at the tiny baby nestled softly in her arms, his eyes an identical blue to his father’s, she remembered the words he’d said the day he proposed. “I promise to fall asleep a little more in love with you today, tomorrow and all of our lives.”

[jombocostello]

bucciarati gang x reader

Anonymous asked: Hello! Can I get a platonic/ brotherly Bucci gang comforting a member who’s just gone through a breakup with a longtime partner? (May or may not be in this situation and needing some cuddles 🥺) thank you in advance and I hope everything’s good for you!

Yes of course!! I hope you’re feeling better and I hope you enjoy these! My messages are always open if you want to talk too!

Giorno

- Giorno's a soft-spoken guy; in your time with Bucciarati's gang, he's probably the one you know the least about. Still, he's extremely friendly, and the two of you get along really well.

- When you show up to your mission with Giorno with your head dipped and a far-away look in your eyes, he can instantly tell something's wrong. "Are you alright?" he asks you, eyebrows knitted in worry. You just wave a hand and shrug, telling him not to worry and to focus on the mission at hand. Hesitantly, Giorno agrees, though he's not done thinking about this.

- The job goes on without a hitch, and you and Giorno hurry away to the getaway car. As you both hop in and buckle your seatbelts, Giorno looks at you through the rear-view mirror. Your eyes meet his in the reflection for a moment and then you shift them away, frowning.

- "Is there something you want to talk about?" he asks gently. "You can feel free to tell me anything."

- You suck in a deep breath, wincing as your breath shuddered. "...Are you sure? I don't want to bother you," you murmur.

- Giorno reaches out and takes your hand; you're both a little startled by his forwardness. "Of course. It's not a bother."

- You smile a little, but your face doesn't read as very happy. You lean back, your hand still resting loosely in Giorno's. "Okay. Well, I... I ended a long relationship recently. And I don't - I really don't know how to describe how I'm feeling. I just..." Your voice trails off, and Giorno watches as tears up in your eyes. You lower your head and Giorno can see your shoulders shaking.

- Moved by the instant need to make you feel better, he takes your other hand as well. You blink, tears running down your face, and you watch as Giorno rubs his thumbs in circles over your palms. He leans in a little closer to you and smiles faintly. "You're an amazing person, (Y/N). I'll be with you every step of the way through this, alright? I know you can do it."

- You muster up a smile, genuinely touched by Giorno's tenderness. "Thank you. Really." You look away, sniffling. "I'll try."

- Giorno lifts a hand and brushes a tear from your cheek, surprising you. When he brings his hand back to yours, though, he holds a small, pink rose petal. "What you're feeling right now is going to help you grow," he says softly, gingerly placing the petal in your palm. "You're going to come out stronger. And I'll be there to help when you need it."

- You're overcome with emotion; you lean forward and hug Giorno tightly. He's a little startled by this, but he's happy all the same, and he hugs you back. "Thank you," you whisper in his ear. "I'm sorry for springing all this on you right now... We should probably head back."

- "Don't worry," he replies. "You can talk to me about whatever you want." He leans back and starts the car, and as you drive away, he turns to you and smiles widely. You find yourself smiling back.

Bruno

- It's early in the morning when you get a phone call on your cell phone, which is sitting on the other side of your room. Yawning loudly, you roll out of bed and pick it up. Before flipping it open, you briefly glance at the mirror hanging from your wall; you look dead tired. It's no surprise, really... You haven't been sleeping much.

- "...Hello?" Your voice is groggy and you blearily rub your eyes.

- "(Y/N). How are you?"

- Your eyes widen, and subconsciously you fix your posture. It's your boss Bruno, who never calls unless he has important business. "Uh... Hi. I'm alright." The lie rolls off your tongue without a second thought.

- "That's good." Bruno pauses. "I hope I'm not being too forward, but I'd like to go to dinner with you tonight. I can pick you up at seven if that's alright with you."

- "Sure, that would be nice." He pleasantly says goodbye and hangs up, and you set down the phone in mild confusion. That had been the last thing you were expecting. Bruno is your boss, and he's a close friend, too - but he's never asked you out to an excursion like this. You wonder for a moment if it's because he's noticed how out of it you are lately. It's certainly a possibility. You just shrug and get ready for the day, keeping Bruno's invitation in the back of your mind.

- After a day of errands, the time comes, and Bruno arrives at your place in a sleek, classy sports car. He steps out of the driver's seat and circles around the vehicle, opening the passenger door and offering his hand. You smile, a little miffed by his silence so far, and take his hand. After you're both seated, he drives off.

- You wind up at a restaurant that you've never been to before. You'd wanted to try it, but it had always been astronomically fancy and you figured you'd never find the right occasion to go. It seems Bruno is the one who found the perfect time, as he leads you to your table and pulls out your chair.

- Bruno orders a bottle of wine for the both of you, and finally, he turns your way and speaks. "I hope you're not too confused by my sudden invitation," he says, the smile on his face audible in his words.

- "Not at all!" you reply, smiling as well. "Well, maybe a little confused... But certainly not upset. This is wonderful."

- "That's good." Bruno's smile drops a bit, and you watch him closely. "I wanted to see you tonight because I've been a little worried. You haven't been yourself lately, and I just wanted to check up on you. (Y/N), are you alright?"

- You feel your throat tighten before he's even done talking. "I - I, ah..." You can't force yourself to lie. You dip your head a bit, speaking a little sheepishly. "No. Not really."

- Bruno starts to reach across the table but his hand freezes halfway; he's not sure whether he should take your hand. "Well, if you want to talk..." He decides now, and his fingers gently wrap around your palm. "I'm here."

- You suck in a breath, raising your head. "I've just been going through... Well, going through a breakup." Bruno's eyes soften in concern, and you nod slightly. "So it's been hard."

- Your wine arrives suddenly, nearly making you jump. Bruno lets go of your hand to pour you a glass. "I see." He places the glass in front of you and you drink some, thankful to be given a break from talking. Bruno doesn't drink, though, and you frown. "You're important to me, (Y/N). We've known each other for a while and all I want is for you to be happy." You had been the first person to join his team, so you're pretty close.

- You smile, taking a quick sip of wine. "Thank you, Bruno."

- Dinner goes well, and your food is delicious. After the meal, you and Bruno get up and head back to his car. He opens your door and you thank him as you sit down.

- "How was your food?" he asks you as he slides into the driver's seat and starts the car.

- "It was great. Thank you again, this was a really wonderful surprise."

- Bruno smiles gently at you and you've never felt more comfortable. "Of course, (Y/N). I'd love to do this again, any time you like. Alright?"

- You reach out and place your hand over his, and he blinks, looking at you with mild surprise. You just grin and reply, "Alright."

Mista

- As you walk into Libeccio on a bright Sunday morning, you're greeted by only Bruno and Mista. "Hey, guys," you say as you pull out your chair and take a seat. "Where's everyone else?"

- Bruno glances up from the papers that are sitting in front of him to look at you. "Oh, this is just a minor problem that we need to clean up. I figure the three of us will be more than enough to take care of it."

- You nod, crossing your arms over your chest. "Alright." You look over at Mista, who's busy eating garlic bread without a care in the world. "Hey, Mista," you say, and he stops eating to look at you. You grin. "Bet you're glad we don't have anyone else here with us, huh?"

- Instantly Mista nods obnoxiously, and you nearly laugh out loud. "Four people... It's just not for me." You sigh, the remnants of a smile on your face.

- You head out after a quick cup of coffee, and in minutes you've reached your destination. You all pile out of the car, looking around warily at the old, half-collapsed building you've arrived at. "There's nothing to worry about," Bruno says to the two of you. "I just have to go get a document that was left inside by our associate. I need you two to stand guard outside."

- "You got it, Boss," Mista says with a firm salute. You laugh a little at the gesture. Bruno leaves, and that leaves you with the group's resident gunslinger.

- You both summon your stands, and you stand together outside of the building. You're both silent for a while, until the Sex Pistols start whining about being bored. "Shut up!" Mista groans, swatting at them. "We'll be out of here in no time." You really don't have the energy to reassure the little guys, even though you usually do like talking to them.

- Mista seems to notice this, and he glances over at you. "...Hey, (Y/N), are you okay? You seem out of it."

- You shrug. "Uh... It's nothing."

- This tips Mista off to the fact that it absolutely is something. "Really, what's up? You know you can tell me anything. My lips are sealed." He mimes zipping his mouth shut, and you roll your eyes.

- "...Fine." You cross your arms over your chest, sighing. "I... I just broke up with my partner. A few days ago."

- For some reason, you're expecting another wisecrack, but that's not what you get - Mista walks over to you and puts his hand gently on your arm. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says quietly. "It must suck."

- You nearly laugh at his choice of words. "Yeah. It does suck."

- He looks at you for a moment, and then in a quick, casual motion, he wraps his arms around you and squeezes. You blink, completely surprised by this. After a few comfortable moments, he pulls away, then suddenly his eyes go wide. "Shit, I hope that wasn't weird, I - I didn't even think about it and - "

- "No, don't worry," you say, cutting him off. "It was nice of you." You give him a small smile.

- "Oh. Well that's good." You both fall silent again, staring out at the alley before you and looking for any potential enemies. After a few minutes, Mista speaks. "I'm buying you ice cream after this."

- You look over at him, eyebrows raised. "Did you just say you're gonna get me ice cream? What are you, seven?"

- "Shut up!" Mista whines, and you laugh loudly. "Ice cream is good as hell. It'll do wonders for your spirit."

- "Well, I can't argue with that." Your wide grin settles into a little smile, and the two of you stand closely together until Bruno finally arrives.

- You all hop into the car, Bruno at the wheel and the two of you in the back seat. "What's your favorite ice cream flavor?" Mista asks, grinning widely. "Wait - lemme guess. Are you a classic vanilla type?"

- "Uh..." You honestly don't have a favorite, so you decide to humor him. "Sure. Yeah."

- "Hell yeah!" He reaches out and gives you an unprompted high-five, surprising you. "I knew it. I'm a genius." A few moments later, Mista's expression softens. "Hey, listen. I'm really sorry you're going through this. I know it's tough, so... I'll be there for you. Don't hesitate to come to me about anything."

- You'd never expected to see this kind of seriousness from Mista before. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it." And with that, you lean back in your seat, feeling good about the future for the first time in a while.

Narancia

- You hadn't planned on talking about your recent breakup with any of the members of your group, but when Narancia invited you to the local arcade one day, you knew he could tell something was up.

- You meet up with him outside of the glowing building. He stands in front of the doors with an impossibly wide grin and...a bouquet of flowers? "Hey, what the hell is this for?" you say, laughing as you take them. "Seriously."

- "I guess I just wanted to surprise ya! It worked, I guess." He's right; you were surprised. You run the flowers over to your car and gently place them in the back seat, then return to Narancia.

- "So what's the plan?" you ask as you both enter the arcade. The sounds of the seemingly endless games is almost shockingly loud.

- It doesn't seem to phase Narancia in the slightest, though. "Come on! We're playing that dancing game. What's it called...?" He ponders that for less than a second before grabbing your arm and dragging you over to the large game in the back of the room.

- Almost instantly, he's shoved some tokens into the machine and you're all set to dance. "Choose, the song, (Y/N), I know you'll pick a good one!" You can't seem to stop smiling at the utter enthusiasm Narancia's showing, and you pick a relatively easy song.

- You stumble a few times, but after a moment you get the hang of the game. Narancia isn't doing very well - he doesn't seem to feel the rhythm very well - but his energy is more than making up for it. Once the song is over, you see that you've beaten him.

- "I never could've expected that, dude," you say, laughing under your breath. "I mean, don't you choreograph dances and make Mista and Fugo learn them with you?"

- "Yep!" Narancia shrugs. "Guess I was off today. But you beat me!" You wonder if he let you win, but who cares. You appreciate the gesture if that's the case.

- The two of you spend the rest of the day playing every game in the place. Once you're done, you end up with a sizeable pile of tickets, and you decide to spend them on two huge stuffed animals - one for you and one for Narancia, to commemorate this nice day.

- "I really had a good time today!" you say to Narancia as you walk to his car. "Thanks for inviting me, I had a lot of fun."

- "Sure!" Narancia's voice drops a bit, and you raise your eyebrows. "And I hope you feel better soon. I know you haven't been feeling your best, but I know you'll get through it. You're tough as hell, (Y/N), that's why you're on the team!"

- You're really touched by Narancia's words. He doesn't even know what happened, and still his words of comfort are perfect. "Thanks. Hey, I'll see you later, alright?"

- "Yeah." He picks up his stuffed animal and has it wave goodbye, and you snort. He's a pure ball of sunshine, and that's just what you needed.

Abbacchio

- Of all the member's of Bucciarati's squad, Abbacchio is probably the hardest one to talk to. You don't think you've ever held a full conversation with him on your own, and even if you tried, you have a feeling he'd just laugh in your face and walk away. All in all, you're pretty intimidated by him.

- So of course, as fate would have it, the two of you are assigned to take care of some business one late night. You grab a taxi and then walk a ways until you reach your destination.

- Abbacchio is there waiting for you, with his arms crossed over his chest. "You made it," he says, voice dripping with sarcasm, and you wince. This is really the last thing you need right now.

- It's a fairly serious mission before you two: you have to kill non-stand user employees of the boss who have stolen a fairly large sum of money from a neighboring capo. Thankfully, you succeed, though you do make a couple minor mistakes that do nothing for Abbacchio's mood.

- Abbacchio hails a taxi and slides the driver some of the money you've just recovered. "If anyone asks, you never saw us. Alright?" The driver merely nods and gestures for you to get in.

- It's a silent, somber ride. You're too anxious to look at Abbacchio. You're a little embarrassed by the rookie mistakes you made tonight, which you've never done before - but you're going through something pretty big right now and that's probably the reason for them. It's only been a little while since you ended your relationship, and it's been pretty hard coping with it. This situation certainly isn't making it any easier to feel better.

- You get back to Abbacchio's place quickly. You start to wave goodbye as he opens the door and stands up, but he shocks you by grabbing your arm and pulling you out with him. "Come with me," he says lowly. "I just wanna talk for a bit."

- You're terrified. He's almost definitely going to chew you out over your mess-ups tonight. You really can't do anything but nod, and with that he turns around and leads up up to his apartment.

- It's...a lot cozier than you'd expected. There's a lot of artwork up on the walls, and a record player sits on the far side of the room. You wonder what he's been listening to. "Would you like a drink?" he asks, taking out a bottle of red wine.

- "Ah, no thanks." That's oddly hospitable of him, considering he's monumentally pissed off at you right now.

- You watch him put the bottle away and take out a can of coffee grounds. "Coffee, then? I know it's late, but you're probably cold."

- He's right; coffee actually sounds good right now. "Sure, if it's not any trouble."

- He doesn't say anything to that, just gets to making it. Shit - is it trouble? You stand and watch him from the doorway in an anxious silence until finally he's done, and he gestures for you to join him on the couch.

- You sit down and he hands you your coffee. "Cream and sugar?" he asks, and you nod your head.

- "Yeah - both." He quickly grabs your coffee back from you and walks back to the kitchen, then returns with two mugs and sits down next to you. He hands you your drink and you take a sip, careful not to burn yourself. It's perfect for such a chilly night.

- "So." You look up at Abbacchio, whose expression can only be described as...severe. He drinks some coffee then sets down his mug, locking eyes with you. This is about to be horrible. "What's wrong?"

- "Huh?" Did you say that out loud? Did he say that out loud? You blink, trying to parse his question.

- "I can tell you're not feeling well. You never would've made the mistakes you did if you weren't distracted. So what's on your mind?" He pauses, and then adds, "If you're comfortable talking about it."

- "...Oh." You're completely shocked by this twist. Abbacchio's expression doesn't read as severity, it's concern. He knows something's wrong. "Well, yeah. I'm fine with talking about it." Are you? You steel yourself and continue. "I, ah... I just ended a relationship recently. That's all."

- Abbacchio frowns. "I'm sorry." He's silent for a bit, and you're stuck in an awkward little moment with him while he thinks of what to say. "I've been through it too, and I know how hard it is. You can talk to me about it, if you want. Maybe not right now, though - it's pretty late." He's right; it's long past midnight.

- "Alright. Thanks, Abbacchio. I really appreciate it." You quickly finish your coffe and gently set down the mug as you stand. "I should get back home. Thank you again. I would like to talk to you later, if it's okay."

- "Of course." He smiles - you're pretty sure that's the first time you've witnessed him do anything other than scowl. "I don't have good advice, but I'm more than willing to listen."

- You smile back. "Then yeah. I'll take you up on that." You open the door softly. "See you later, Abbacchio. Thanks for the coffee."

Fugo

- Sometimes, Bruno likes to call all of his team members to Libeccio just to share a meal. Today is one of those occasions, and you walk into the back room at the restaurant to find Fugo and Bruno engaged in what seems to be a highly intellectual conversation.

- "Yes, well, there's so many clauses that could apply to - oh, (Y/N)!" Fugo looks over at you and smiles. "Nice to see you."

- "You too." You take a seat next to him and grab the glass of water that's in front of you; there seems to be one for everyone. "Where is everyone? Am I early or something?"

- Fugo sighs. "No, everyone else is just late." You laugh a little under your breath at how seriously disappointed Fugo seems in his teammates; he's always been a bit of a perfectionist. "But whatever. How have you been?"

- Not great, to be honest. "Alright," you answer, quickly sipping your water. "My life's been pretty uneventful. You?"

- Fugo doesn't seem fully convinced by that answer, but he doesn't say anything about it. "The same. Nothing really happening. Bruno, though, is apparently horribly busy."

- Bruno laughs and shakes his head. "That's an overstatement and you know it. I've just been taking care of some paperwork."

- Slowly but surely, the rest of the gang arrives, and you all share a great lunch. Afterwards, you move to leave, but Fugo grabs your arm before you can walk out the door.

- "Hm? What's up?" You turn to him, eyebrows raised.

- "Are you doing anything right now?" he asks rather forwardly. He's not a very timid guy. "If you're not, I was wondering if you'd like to take a little walk, in that park down the street a ways."

- "A... A walk?" It's kind of a weird request, but you're honestly not doing anything. "Yeah, sure." Fugo smiles and leads you out the door towards the nice park.

- Luckily, it's a really nice day out today. It isn't too cool or too warm, and you're dressed perfectly for the occasion. After a short walk, the two of you reach the park. "I haven't been here in a long time," you comment. "Not since before I started working with Passione."

- "Really?" Fugo looks at you in mild disbelief. "That's funny. I come here once every couple weeks. It's nice for calming my nerves, especially after I have to hang around with those stupid assholes." Narancia and Mista had been being particularly dumb today, and Fugo got pretty upset over it. It's just how he is, and you're glad he has something that can brighten his spirits.

- "Do you want to talk?" You blink, looking over at Fugo. He isn't looking at you; instead, he's staring out ahead of him as he walks steadily forward. "I know there's something on your mind. Feel free to talk to me."

- "Oh. So you can read me that well, huh?" you ask, laughing a little. Fugo just nods. "Well... I guess. I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

- "Oh."

- He's not prying at all, and you can tell he'd be alright if you just left it at that, but for some reason you're compelled to continue. "I broke up with my partner. Not too long ago. It's been tough, trying to adjust and everything." You blurt everything out at once, and you're amazed by how good it feels; he's the first person you've told about this.

- "Shit, that's horrible." Fugo seems to realize that you're right next to a bench, so he pauses and sits down. You follow suit. "...I'm really sorry."

- You've never gotten the impression that Fugo's particularly good at talking about feelings, so it really means a lot to you that he's willing to try for this. "Don't apologize," you murmur. "It's not your fault."

- "I know, I just... Going through that must be really difficult." Very hesitantly, Fugo moves to take your hand, and you smile when you feel him do it. "You can tell me if you ever need anything. You're important to our team, (Y/N), and it won't do to have you upset." Realizing that that sounds a little impersonal, he pauses before speaking again. "That is, I want you to be happy."

- Fugo squeezes your hand and you smile a little wider. "Thanks. I will." Fugo's never been so genuine with you, and you're more than grateful. You know you've found the most wonderful group of people, who can help you get through just about anything.

[marmosa]

midnight meeting.

George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: eiffel tower joke <3

A/N:  i promised my friend i would’ve had this done last night but school has its foot up my ass and i couldn’t get it done by yesterday (sorry, love). but after the short fred piece i knew i needed to show some love to everyone’s favorite soft boy, george. i don’t have much else to say, but if you could maybe send me some positive energy that would be much appreciated, i could use it. love you guys, enjoy <3

***

“Alright, you’ve been dodging the question for ages now, [y/n]. You have got to tell us who you fancy,” Beth exclaimed, pointing at [y/n] accusingly with an unopened bottle of butterbeer.

[y/n]’s eyes went wide as she stumbled to find a way to dodge the question. She wasn’t embarrassed of her fancy, per say, she was just embarrassed to tell her friends who all had the pickiest taste, especially when it came to who deserved their friend’s love, “it’s no one important.”

“Bullshit, if it wasn’t important I wouldn’t have caught you doodling hearts on your charms notes in the middle of class,” Daisy interjected, passing her a know-it-all look, her brows raised as if saying “try me, I dare you”.

“Well I-,”

“Kiki, you spend the most time with her outside of class, you’ve got to know something,” Beth spoke again, insistent on getting her answer, knowing if [y/n] wasn’t going to spill that she’d get someone else to.

“I do,” Kiki shrugged, “not my place to say though,” she bit back a smile when Beth and Daisy both looked at her with the most unamused smiles she’d ever seen.

“Can we at least get a hint?” Daisy pleaded, throwing herself across [y/n]’s lap, who was all too entertained by her friends antics, despite the uncomfortable spotlight she’d been thrust under.

“Fine,” [y/n] sighed, pausing as the two girls cheered, Kiki silently raising her bottle of butterbeer in solidarity at their excitement, “he’s a quidditch beater.”

Beth’s face immediately fell, her mind jumping to the worst possible conclusion she could’ve thought of, “You do not like Christopher Atkinson. He’s like as bad of a Hufflepuff as you can get and Hufflepuff’s aren’t even that bad!”

“Oh my god, no! I would rather swallow glass than ever entertain the thought of fancying him,” [y/n] fake gagged, absolutely mortified that her friends would even suggest such a terrible thought, “try again.”

“Someone on Ravenclaw perhaps?” Daisy quipped, taking a sip of her drink, “it would make sense see we would see them everyday.”

[y/n] shook her head once more and bit back a smile when Kiki looked near ready to combust, everyone hated the guessing game, but sometimes it was necessary- mostly for the drama of it all.

“Slytherin?” Beth asked, her jaw nearly hitting the floor when [y/n] shook her head again, this time her head turning away to avoid the blatant stares of her friends.

“You like one of the Weasley twins!” Daisy cheered, standing up and dancing around the room, pulling up [y/n] with her to hop in place.

“Which one, which one! They’re both very handsome and very tall and very sweet, but I presume you’re only going for one, unless you’re freaky like that,” Beth snickered, wiggling her eyebrows as [y/n]’s head snapped to stare at her with wide eyes, Kiki nearly choking on her drink at the insinuation.

“George, I like George! Jesus woman, you need to have your brain run through the spin cycle,” [y/n] scoffed, trying to hide how embarrassed the suggestion had made her, despite the question of whether or not she’d thought of it still hanging unanswered.

“Well good for you, he’s a lovely lad, you’re going to get along swell,” Daisy sighed dreamily, plopping down onto the floor an excited smile drawn onto her features.

“Bold of you to assume he want to get along with me,” [y/n] muttered, sinking into herself when Kiki passed her a glare.

“Don’t say shit like that. He literally speaks to you and tries to hang out with you every waking moment you’re available and you want to tell me he doesn’t fancy you back? Please, you always say the stupidest things,” Kiki rolled her eyes, clinking her bottle with Beth, who wholeheartedly agreed.

“Kiki is right [y/n], you’ve got to stop putting yourself down like that, even though it is a very normal behavior, it’s not good to see the worst,” Daisy explained, getting some resounding yes’s from the girls next to her.

“You’re probably right, but it’s not like I’m getting a chance anytime soon to confess my feelings,” [y/n] sighed, falling backwards so she was splayed out over the floor.

“That chance could be arranged,” Beth suggested, rolling up her sleeves and pulling out her wand.

“We are not casting a spell on him, Beth,” [y/n] deadpanned, lifting her head up only a fraction to stare at her before letting it fall back with a light thud.

“I got my wand out so we could cast a spell to sneak out, you arse, we’re going to set you up with Weasley tonight,” Beth retorted, pushing herself up onto her feet, “you girls in?”

“Yes!” Kiki and Daisy agreed, also pushing themselves to their feet, all three girls staring down at [y/n] with wide grins and anticipating smiles.

[y/n] groaned loudly and pouted her lips, “I don’t really have a choice here do I?”

“Nope, now up you go, we’re getting you two together and that’s final, now all we need is a plan,” Beth smiled mischievously.

***

[y/n]  paced around the Astronomy tower anxiously, stopping every now and then to observe an owl flying by to go perch itself in the postal room, her heart never stopping its nervous beat.

The girls had been gone for nearly twenty minutes now after splitting up to go get some Gryffindor’s they knew in on the plan and they ensured they wouldn’t get caught, but there was never a guarantee with that sort of promise. Her mind reeled as she tried to decide whether or not she should go and see her friends or remain where they’d told her too, the second option seeming far more assuring yet far more helpless.

“I feel like damsel in distress,” she muttered to herself, pushing herself up and off the floor so she could sit on the sill of one of the windows, her eyes catching the moonlight as it reflected off the lake.

“You seem awfully calm for someone who’s in distress.”

[y/n]’s head snapped to the side as she squinted through the dark room to see who’d spoken up, but she had a gut feeling she knew anyway, “George?”

“That’s me! Uhm, I was told you were looking for me? Something about the enticing thrill of getting to sneak out to see a girl and a pressing question really compelled me to come and find out what was up,” He explained, finally making it over and leaning against the wall across from her, a cheeky grin pulled onto his lips.

“Well about that question, I know it’s probably like poor timing and all, and we certainly could have saved this for morning, but you know how Beth gets when it comes to her little schemes,” she chuckled awkwardly, not sure how exactly she intended to leading up to her question, or rather confession.

“True, she’s always been stubborn that one,” George nodded, quirking his head to the side as he observed her tense posture and avoidant eyes, “but again, I came here for you, not Beth. So, what’s up.”

[y/n] bit her tongue as she built up the courage to pop the question begging to spill out of her heart, “So, they- we- I, called you out here because I wanted to ask if you ever wanted to go on a date sometime?”

George’s eyes widened as he processed her question, his heart suddenly the only thing he could feel in his ears, his cheeks starting to flame a bright red, “Oh, uhm, well that’s, that’s lovely-,” he struggled to find a solid response, despite his brain screaming at him to just blurt out a yes.

“It’s totally fine if not! I warned my friends it might’ve been a bad idea to ask anyway, but they’re all so insistent and I mean a “no” is better than no answer, right? But honestly, if you don’t want to-,”

“Yes!” He finally managed to shout out, his face so hot he was sure he could melt a stick of butter on it if he tried, “yes, I’d love to go out with you.”

[y/n] nearly erupted into a dancing fit right then and there, her lips curling up into an unstoppable smile, “Really?”

“Really. I would,” George grinned, feeling as if a thousand butterflies had just been released into his chest, “I really like you, [y/n].”

“I really like you too, George,” [y/n] replied, her eyes darting back and forth between his lips and his eyes, her heart speeding up ten fold when she’d notice him do the exact same to her.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, trying not to let the eagerness seep into his voice.

[y/n] nodded rapidly, wrapping her arms around his neck as he surged forward and captured her lips. His hands immediately went to her waist, squeezing gently when her fingers tangled themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss was long and loving, their pent up adoration spilling out as they finally rejoiced in their shared affections.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that, cheesy line, but it’s true,” George breathed, a lilt to his tone as he pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers.

“I’d listen to every cheesy line in the world if it means I get to be with you,” [y/n] replied, smoothing her hands back down to cup his neck.

“Now that was a cheesy line, Kiki is going to hate that,” He snickered pulling back slightly to stare into her eyes, bright as can be as the reflected the moonlight oh so beautifully.

“Not as much as Fred will,” she noted, brushing her fingers over the freckles on his cheeks, the featherlight touch prompting him to flutter his eyes shut as he leaned into her hand.

“Unfortunately true,” He muttered, humming softly as her thumb brushed over his lips.

“Can I kiss you again?” She questioned quietly, as if too loud a tone would shatter the intimacy's of it all.

“Please do,” he mumbled, letting her guide him forward with her hands, their lips connecting once more.

[heroprose]

aromatic;

a/n. forewarning for the usual vampiric shenanigans.

ship. hitoshi shinou x reader

summary. contemporary vampire au. (+ slight office au)

//

hitoshi shinsou despises you, you’re certain of this. 

what you’re not quite sure of is where all the animosity stemmed from, especially since he seemed to conduct himself well enough with everyone else. 

out of all your fellow colleagues, he treated you with the most transparent curtness, from promptly exiting whenever you entered the breakroom for a refreshment, to visibly retching the one time you tried to take an empty seat next to him during a conference (you’ll never forgive him for that slight).

it was really starting to grate on you. you were going to have to confront him about this yourself.

besides, you’ve no longer a choice in the matter: this unspoken tension had begun to affect the workplace, with people sometimes looking to and fro between you and him, confused to high hell why he always kept himself a good several meters away from you if he could-- not that you were complaining. social distancing can be quite mutually beneficial, after all.

and it wasn’t an issue you’d like to bring up with human resources either: that seemed a little too petty, even if he was literally gagging at your presence. 

you did try to ameliorate the work relationship-- really, you did. but there’s only so many times you can crack a joke and be left hanging in that awkward silence before you stop altogether. you once thought it’d been something you said in poor taste that made him abhor you so, but unless he had a seething hatred for mild puns, that didn’t seem right. 

and so what that you were a newer addition to the team-- you’d entertained the idea that maybe he had a thing against strangers, but hell, it’s been months and even interns get more conversation out of him than you.

although given his visceral reactions, you’re inclined to think it’s something about how you smell... but that’s just insane. you took your daily showers and used reasonable amounts of detergent in your laundry; and if you can take the pungency of axe body spray and the zestiness of dior’s sauvage on every man in the building, then he should be able to tolerate your own signature scent, which wasn’t even that bad... was it? 

no one else complained about it though. and you’ve even asked around too, so you know you’re not wearing absolute funk. it’s an unfathomable situation.

today, however, you forewent the perfume. if it really was the fragrance, then this should leave no opening. you’ve tucked the bottle in your workbag instead, in case you needed it like a piece of evidence for his rude behavior, ace attorney style.

you waited until lunch break, where most of the other colleagues would leave the building for nearby restaurants or go to the cafeteria, before approaching him. it was best this way, lest it got weird; at least only few people would witness it. 

hitoshi was currently invested in whatever it was on his computer, and if you were correct in his observations, he would pull out his own homemade meal shortly enough to eat at his desk. some days, he didn’t eat at all, which was surely unhealthy but you were hardly in the position to scold him considering your own bad habits. plus you didn’t want him to hate you even deeper. 

you got to observe this routine over a good number of weeks and it was truly no easy feat, with his desk set in the far corner of the workplace far from the wall-length windows and him being constantly out and about on his own assignments.

with your workbag in one hand, you walk up to him with as much nonchalance as you could muster. “hey! not going down to the cafe today?” it’s rhetorical: you knew he wasn’t.

he hardly responds, eyes flickering up at you briefly and giving a greeting nod before returning to his work. “mm.”

you round the corner of the desk so that you stand beside him. leaning down slightly to squint at the screen, you deliberately put yourself in his space. “oh wow, the deadline’s so far away but you’re already working on this part?”

he began to open his mouth, only to clap a hand over it with remarkable speed. and he coughs, goodness, with shoulders jumping.

“oh my god,” you can’t help but say as you withdraw. could he smell it even from your bag? you weren’t even sure if it was the perfume or just you anymore. “okay, i’ll cut to the chase. can we talk? alone?”

you’d think he would think it over, at the very least, to give a semblance of polite reflection. “no,” is his immediate reply, spoken forcefully, so forcefully that a lone passing colleague even gives you two a glance. 

“i was, uh, just leaving,” they say. “want anything?”

“i’m good, thanks,” you reply, bidding them farewell with a breezy smile before refocusing on hitoshi. he has already turned away from you, eyes blazing at the computer screen.

without another word, you reach over, placing a hand over his, and drag his mouse to click out of his report.

“what do you think you’re doing?” hitoshi demands, jerking away from your touch. and he’s angry now, genuinely irritated: you can see it in the way his jaw tightens. too bad you’ve been annoyed ever since you’ve been moved to this department.

“it was google docs, relax. your work is saved,” you soothe over. “now come with me. i just want to talk to you for five minutes, tops. please.”

he’s deeply conflicted for a heartbeat, but finally relents. “five minutes,” he echoes. you give him the space to stand up, clutching your workbag strap tightly in your fist. if he knew what this was about, he gave no mention as he walked openhanded behind you.

hastily, you lead him to the breakroom. with its doorless entrance, you assumed that the ventilation there would be moderately good, if it got too stuffy for him. then again, you wouldn’t of minded if he suffocated a bit either. admittedly, the entire floor was probably empty save for you two, so this dialogue could’ve been held out in the open but it didn’t hurt to have that extra layer of seclusion. 

“i already know,” you say into the quietude, leaning against the counter. behind you, the coffee machine beeped every so often. someone should get that fixed. you cross your arms and look at him carefully. the vents are tinny above you two, warm air rushing out noisily.

“you-- what?” his dark eyes widen ever so slightly, and for once, his expression isn’t quite so tense with you. “what do you know?” he must’ve not expected you to be so direct. he takes his hand out of his pocket.

“you know what i’m talking about. why you treat me like, i don’t know, the plague?”

“i don’t do that.”

“you nearly threw up when you saw me.”

hitoshi stays silent. ha, gotcha! “i only coughed,” he relents eventually.

“whatever. and i know it’s not me and that it’s really all you because guess what? no one else has this problem. and i’m thinking you don’t want me to air out your business to everyone else because that would be...” weird, for one, but you didn’t want to ruin your own case. “doesn’t matter; in any case, there’s no reason to be rude over this.”

“alright. so you know. i avoid you because of your scent.” his voice is dangerously calm. “what are you going to do about me, then?”

“about you?” you repeat with a scoff, “oh, so i should report you? what would i even say? HR would laugh at me.”

he smirks, chin jutting out. “right.”

“so now i only have one question. wait, make that two.”

“go on.”

“how should we fix this? because obviously i don’t want our little dance to start affecting our work ethic. you can’t wave me away forever. it’s how i smell, right? do you have a recommended detergent or deodorant, or something?” you ignore the fact that you’ve technically asked three questions.

“none of that covers it,” he mutters and your jaw drops. “masks don’t help either.”

“no way. i smell that b-- you know what... moving on. we’ve got to compromise somewhere though. but not my perfume.” your hands reflexively ball up. there’s no camera, so if you did something unsavory, there equally wouldn’t be any real witnesses...

“your perfume,” he repeats, seemingly dissatisfied. 

“yeah, no way. that’s my signature scent. go wear nose plugs or something, if it’s that bad. and i can’t believe you say scent and not body odor, like just call it what it is! damn.” 

the coffee machine lets out its intermittent beeps. hitoshi just stares at you, mystified. then, he breaks into a snort, like he’s the one who can’t believe he’s having this discussion. “i understand. in that case, i see no solution.” whilst bringing a hand to the back of his neck, he starts to move, intent on passing you to exit the room.

you let out a frustrated noise. “you leave me no choice, hitoshi.”

intending on presently the bottle to him proudly, perhaps even spritzing him once for good measure, you jam your hand into your workbag to fish your perfume out. you grab onto the rectangular shaped glass, and pull it out with great gusto.

and it goes terribly. 

to your horror, the bottle slips like butter between your fingers and sails, tumbling down to the floor right in front of you with a heartrending crash, glass splintering like ice. the beautiful blue lid goes spinning across the tiles, and like that, the whole room now blooms a gorgeous citrus, white floral scent. “oh nooooooo! shit!”

no longer minding him, you go to pick up the shards, bending down at the knees with a sigh. gingerly, you begin to clean up.

“hey, be careful. i’ll get a dustpan,” you hear him say and it’s one of the nicest things he’s ever said to you, but in your melancholy, you shake your head solemnly.

“no, no, i’ve got this. i’m just so-- OWW?” you wail without warning. you drop the wet shard you were grasping, still slick with liquid. “ugh, never mind. get the dustpan.” you bring yourself up on your feet again.

using your shoe, you kick the shards into a more cohesive, but wet pile. the clattering of the glass causes you some emotional pain. “terrific,” you mutter, watching blood bead up at across two of your fingertips. “well, at least i won’t be wearing that anymore. right, hitoshi?” you ask sarcastically. shaking your hand to rid it of perfume residue, you end up just flecking your blood droplets all over the floor. you glance up when you’re met with silence. “hitoshi?”

“nnngh...” a low, deep groan escapes his throat, and immediately he turns his cheek and takes several stumbling steps away. he grits his teeth, the vein in his neck growing more prominent like it’s physically paining him to pull apart from you. “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me...”

“you okay?” you close in on him. it felt almost backwards to ask such a query, seeing as you were the one bleeding. “maybe you should sit d--”

“get away from me,” he all but spits out, eyes squeezed shut. “you set this up, huh? figures.” stray hairs were falling into his face as he presses a hand against his temple and bit back another groan. “i was doing just fine before... so why... nngh.”

you purse your lips. “hey! what do you have against dolce & gabbana’s light blue eau de toilette? it’s a perfectly respectable, fresh, work-friendly fragrance! it was, at least!” you wanted to shout. but that didn’t happen, as your concern and confusion won over your sense of petulance. “set what up?” you ask, bewildered.

on closer inspection, he was not, in fact, okay at all. 

for a second, you thought he was having an allergic reaction. that would certainly explain his avoidance of your body, and perhaps why even a deep black had replaced the cool purple in his irises when his eyes snap open to glare. his pupils were blown out despite the bright tube lighting overhead, and his mouth parts wide.

yet an allergy did not explain everything. as opposed to weak, however, hitoshi suddenly looked frightening. 

because, instead, what came out of your mouth was a strangled, “uh, what the-- are those fangs?” 

and indeed they were, confirmed as they descended upon your skin before you  could even blink. at the very least, he had the decency to pant out a small but distinctively unapologetic “sorry” before his lips pressed around your bleeding fingers, tongue hot against the stinging cuts. 

you hope fervently your coworkers take their leisure at lunch.

[smelted-applejuice]

Peace Treaty, 01

(IMPORTANT) this fanfic was made before Fundy and KSI made their disgusting jokes, but I said it on my Quotev account; I want to go on with this book because I’ve had this planned for weeks, Fundy in this book is NOT AT ALL streamer Fundy but Dream SMP Fundy. I won’t write for him after this fanfic is over. Pairing(s): Fundy x Reader, Sapnap x Reader Pronouns: she/her TW: Fainting Pre-picked: LAST NAME, FATHER'S NAME Pervious part , Next part

[YourName] and Fundy didn’t return home that night, prompting to spend the night in a local inn. [YourName]’s engagement had put a damper on the news she and Fundy wanted to share, so that night they laid in bed and held each other close. They snacked on carrots and berries for dinner, drank warm hot chocolate near the fire, and cuddled each other tightly. Who knew what tomorrow housed, what anyone should be expecting. The couple slept as peacefully as they could within the comfortable bed. [YourName] shot up in her sleep, her chest heaved, she had hoped now that she was awake- she would be back at her house and that whole night never happened. But she glanced around, the unfamiliar place reminding her of her reality. She laid back down, Fundy making soft squeaking noises in his sleep as he buried his chin into [YourName]’s hair. He was out like a light, and [YourName] wished she could do that too. She would drift off to sleep, the smell of Fundy easing her into a warm sleep. Fundy and her both woke up a few hours later, the sun had just risen and it was time for them to get their day on. If they didn’t make a move on now, they both knew their fathers would’ve sent out their men to find them. It seemed like this inn was family-owned and this place being stormed is the last thing the two would want. After checking out, they held hands as they moped all the way down to [YourName]’s house where Fundy departed after giving her his possible final passionate kiss. [YourName] stood there for a moment, dreading as she entered the house. Luckily, it was cleaned, nothing was tossed. “You’re here! Good! I was getting worried, head up and get ready, we’re meeting Sapnap and Dream outside the walls in about two hours.” Gregory said, fixing the cuffs of his shirt sleeves. Not even a minute into returning home after running away, and she’s being forced to meet her future husband. She didn’t feel like arguing, so she quietly made her way upstairs and decided to shower and prep for the day. Despite the meeting purposes not being exactly what [YourName] wanted, she still decided to dress nicely. She buttoned up her white top before tucking it into her black skirt, which she had zipped up against her body moments prior. After she placed her shoes on and focused on taming her hair. She brushed out her (HairColor) locks before doing a neat half-up-half-down look. She placed a clip, she admired herself in the mirror and felt sick. Just last night she and Fundy planned to tell their fathers about their relationship, and now she was preparing to meet her future husband that she had no choice but to be with. She wanted to throw everything off the table and cry, but it would be a mess she’d need to clean so she stuck to crying. After letting it out, she cleaned herself up with warm water and light makeup. [YourName] and her father walked through L’manberg, meeting up with Dream and Sapnap outside the walls. While Dream and Gregory did most of the talking, [YourName] stuck to avoiding eye contact with anyone. “[YourName], come here.” Gregory said guiding his daughter into the conversation, “Sapnap has a gift for you,” Gregory whispered into his daughter’s ear while holding her shoulders. [YourName] softly smiled toward Dream and Sapnap, “Thank you, but independence for my home is enough.” she said trying to turn down the gift in the easiest way possible. Gregory squeezed her shoulders, a silent ‘be quiet please’. “I insist..” Sapnap said, taking out a box from his bag. He opened it to reveal a dark grey gemstone choker necklace with other light-colored crystals to make it more friendly. “O-Oh..” [YourName] said blushing slightly, Dream and Gregory stepped aside letting Sapnap place the necklace around [YourName]’s neck. The necklace was cold against [YourName]’s warm skin, she nodded “Thank you..” she mumbled toward Sapnap and also nodded in return. Dream and Gregory talked with Sapnap for a bit more, [YourName] fiddling with the dangly crystals as she listened in to the conversation now and then. All around, she kept to herself and didn’t speak a word unless she was spoken to. She was nervous, and all she wanted was to see Fundy and be held by him. Gregory and [YourName] would make their way back into L’manberg soon. “That’s your engagement necklace, out there they prefer necklaces over rings.” Her father explained, and it just began to make sense. Why Gregory was adamant about [YourName] taking the gift, she hoped she didn’t just place herself on the bad side of her future husband. If war was bad against Dream, who knows how bad his friend could be. But she shouldn’t be focusing on the negatives. Her home would have official freedom soon. “Does L’manberg know I’m doing this..?” [YourName] asked looking up toward her father as they entered their home, he shook his head. “No, but by the end of the week, they will. Wilbur will be announced on Friday, we need to prepare you a speech..” Gregory said thinking out loud. [YourName] cringed at the thought of giving a speech, but if she were to marry Sapnap she didn’t know how much public time she had to place forth with him. Who knew, he probably;y did speeches every day and [YourName] would have to suck it up. [YourName] nodded, taking her leave for her room. The following morning, [YourName] met up with Fundy in the woods. She hadn’t taken her necklace off, honestly forgetting she was wearing it. She held her jacket close, it was still early and the chill was still flowing through their area in L’manberg. She perked up when she heard Fundy’s voice, “Fundy!” she greeted him in a kiss. “We’re getting as many baisers in as we can, dear” [YourName] said ruffling with whatever hair she could reach, both laughing. Things were quiet as they enjoyed the area around them, just being with each other was enough for them right now. Fundy glanced down toward [YourName], the light catching and reflecting off of her neck. “Necklace?” Fundy asked, [YourName] showed confusion, “When did you get that necklace?” he asked, tilting his head. [YourName] felt around her neck before sadly sighing out, her smile had dropped and it made Fundy panic. “Oh, no, Sapnap gave it to me yesterday. They don’t uh... They don’t do engagement rings over there.” She explained shamefully pushing herself off of Fundy, it just felt wrong to be loving on him. She would be hurting him more than she would be hurting herself. “Oh..” Fundy said quietly, “I can ignore it, we still have until the speech on Friday.” the hybrid said perking up. [YourName] nodded, “sounds good. I like that idea. Three days, just us, we should tell our fathers we’re going out into the deeper part of L’manberg and spend time in that inn!” the female said gasping as she took Fundy’s hands. Her lighter demeanor brought joy to the fox human, he nodded “I love that, we’ll be back in time for your speech, c’mon!” Fundy said getting up and dragging [YourName] off. And they did just that. Fundy and [YourName] had gone off together for three days. They told their fathers as little information as they could, just promising to be back in time for [YourName]’s speech on Friday. Fundy and [YourName] spent as much time together, walks throughout the city, nature hikes, baking, reading- anything, they could do before [YourName] would be forced out of Fundy’s protective grasp. Fundy and [YourName] held hands as they looked across the waters, “I love you, Fundy. I want you to know that I’m going into this marriage wanting you, not him.” [YourName] said, holding onto his arm. Fundy smiled softly kissing her hair, “I love you more, [YourName], I’ll get you out of that relationship some day.” Fundy whispered against her soft (H/C) hair. [YourName] breathed in his scent and nodded as she sighed out, “I wish this never happened.” she said referring to the marriage, Fundy made a noise in agreement. As promised, they were back by Friday. [YourName] was wearing something more fancier, the mesh was uncomfortable but the silk as the base made up for it. It was a soft grey color, glitter embedded into the material. It fit [YourName] perfectly and her hair was done up even better. Sapnap carefully took [YourName]’s knuckles and brought it to his lips, she simply smiled in response and giggled hoping she was playing this uncomfortable situation off well enough. Sapnap didn’t exactly have to put this show on, they weren’t in public and Dream wasn’t around. Soon, Wilbur settled the crowd down and began his announcements. He goes on about how L’manberg was finally free from the Dream SMP and how they had to thank his close friends for it; “L’manberg finally faces a day without fear of being invaded by Dream SMP, and that is thanks to Gregory Florence and his daughter, [YourName] who bravely sacrificed their family name for our freedom.” Wilbur spoke like a true leader. Dream and Sapnap, who sat next to [YourName] and her father shared a look. “I would love to introduce the family, more specifically [YourName] and express her plans for her future.” Wilbur finished with a bright smile. As Wilbur stepped down and [YourName] took his place, there were cheers, probably from the fact they heard the words ‘L’manberg’ and ‘freedom’ within the same sentence. [YourName] awkwardly smiled and cleared her throat, “I’m proud to place myself as a sacrifice for my home, L’manberg has been in the hands of Dream SMP even when we thought we weren’t. I will rest easy, in the arms of my new husband, knowing my home is now it’s own and can hold its own elections.’ [YourName] began holding the sides of the podium to distress herself. “I hope my presence in Dream SMP relaxes Dream and his friends as I will be marrying one of them, my home may rest easy now. Thank you.” [YourName] finished immediately walking back to her seat. She wanted to be held, she glanced over to her father for attention, but he was too busy focusing on Dream who had taken [YourName]’s spot. Sapnap just happened to look over to [YourName], a smile on his face when he noticed she was still wearing the necklace he had gifted her a few days prior, but her face showed a desperate emotion. He didn’t know what else to do, so he gently nudged her and offered his hand. [YourName] was hesitant, and he could tell, but she took his hand. She closed her eyes and breathed out as if so much had just come off of her shoulders. She gently squeezed his hand as a thank you. Eventually the speeches were over and everyone left the stage, [YourName] and Sapnap kept their hands interlocked until she saw Fundy. [YourName] dropped his hand, thanking him, before turning back around and hugging Fundy. Sapnap watched the two talk, Fundy’s hands were on [YourName]’s elbows while she held his arms as they spoke with smiles. Ah, so that’s how she looks when she’s happy. Sapnap had only met [YourName] a few days ago, but she wore his engagement necklace and held his hand and were to marry him, so watching the two bond like that set a sour taste in his mouth. Jealousy. Fundy was Wilbur’s son though, and from the looks of it, Gregory and Wilbur are close friends so perhaps Fundy and [YourName] are just close friends. Sapnap made his way over after letting the two talk for a few minutes, he gently wrapped his arm around her waist and waited to be introduced. [YourName] froze for a moment, but soon went with what was happening. “Fundy, this is Sapnap. Sapnap, this is Fundy. Him and I are close friends.” She spoke, cringing internally at the usage of ‘friend’. She wanted to be so honest, but this was Fundy’s possible safety on the line. Fundy seemed to understand that, thank god. Fundy offered his hand which Sapnap took and gave a firm shake. “It’s nice to meet you. If [YourName] starts to get on your nerves, just send her back for an hour.” Fundy joked, making Sapnap laugh, “Hey! Rude! I’m right here, asshole!” [YourName] laughed leaning over and punching Fundy’s shoulder. Fundy just laughed harder, rubbing his shoulder where she had hit him, “God damn, should’ve placed you in war.” he said shaking his head. [YourName] rolled her eyes, Sapnap just watched the two interact close up. It comforted him, they truly did just act like friends and that’s all he had to worry about. “Sapnap! [Yourname]!” Wilbur said, walking over with Gregory and Dream, the three looked up, Fundy smiling awkwardly being surrounded by the men he fought against and fought with. It just felt weird, especially when one of them had an arm around your girlfriend’s waist. Doesn’t feel good at all. “We’ll be helping out with planning your wedding.” Dream said while the other two nodded, “George will be here later.” he quickly added. Sapnap nodded, but the words ‘planning’ and ‘wedding’ just made the situation more surreal and [YourName] paled. Fundy recognized that look, “Oh sh- Sapnap, catch her!” Fundy yelped trying to dive in just in time to catch her. [YourName] had fainted right on the spot. Sapnap and Fundy kept her up, Fundy gently handing [YourName] off. “How about we take [YourName] home for a bit, let her rest, maybe the heat has gotten to her” Gregory offered leading the way to his home, Fundy shook his head but followed Gregory in the group. Fundy knew [YourName] was dreading the wedding, and [YourName] was fine moments prior with no show of heat affecting her. Once they arrived at [YourName] and Gregory’s house, Fundy showed Sapnap to [YourName]’s room and let him place her carefully on the bed. Fundy would show him the balcony where [YourName] had set up a nice area to relax, and the two just stood there. “You’re going to be careful with her, right?” Fundy asked looking over to Sapnap, he seemed human and not his enemy for once since he faced Sapnap. Sapnap softly smiled, happy to know [YourName] has people who care for her, “Of course, even if the situation isn’t ideal” he chuckled. Fundy smiled and nodded, even if it was forced, he was glad to know his childhood best friend, his girlfriend, would be placed into a safe area. He trusted Sapnap this one time, and he hoped he wasn't giving the man too much credit.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Knitting You a Home - 3

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Human Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Genre/Rating: Hybrid AU - Established Relationship - Angst - Fluff - Smut - PG-13

Overview: Things have changed for you and Namjoon. It’s been a year since the two of you got together, and despite a rocky start, it was impossible to deny the bond and love you shared for each other. But ever since Hoseok had been separated from his Mate, Namjoon has been withdrawing himself from you and doesn’t come home until late at night.

With questions far larger than either of you imagined, you can’t help but wonder if he’s let his past and old fears come back to haunt him. You had shown him that it was possible to have a home and be loved once before, but will you be able to do it again?

Warning: Implied abuse from previous owners.

Playlist:

Main Master List:

Knitting You a Home Master List:

Mated Love is Never Easy Master List:

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - ?

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

Namjoon groaned as he stood from his desk chair, the cracking of his back echoing the small room. The moment he had come back from visiting you at work was probably the last time he had moved, and that had been hours ago.

He knew that if you were here, you’d probably scold him for sitting for so long until he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you onto his lap. He could picture you struggling for a few moments and try to reclaim your argument, but all it would take was him nuzzling your neck for you to melt in his embrace.

The daydream, like always, brought a smile to Namjoon’s face. He wasn’t sure when the last time you came to visit him at work was, but he was willing to bet that Ma wouldn’t mind watching over the store for you to do so either.

Although…with a glance around his studio, his lips curled into a smirk as he stared at the couch he had against the wall near the door. It was question on whether or not work would get done then.

Rolling his neck, he stretched an arm above his head and held it for a few seconds before doing the same to the other. It was another late night for him and Yoongi. The rapper they were working with had decided that he no longer liked the vibe of one of the songs, so they were forced to scrap it as the artist worked on finding his, ‘muse’ as he told them. Until they had a new version, they were busy finishing up the other tracks in the time being.

After hearing every version of all twelve songs, he knew them all by heart at this point. Which was probably why when someone knocked on his door, he didn’t hesitate to lean over the desk and pause the music, calling out for them to come in.

“What’s up Yoongi?” Namjoon asked, smelling his friend’s familiar scent as he entered.

Yoongi grunted, the door shutting behind him on its own as Namjoon straightened up, turning around in time to see his friend lounging out on the couch, his cat tail lazily hanging over the edge.

“I’ve been up since four,” the cat hybrid murmured, his eyes slowly looking around the room.

Not surprising, Namjoon thought. With a twist of his hand, he turned the chair around to face Yoongi and sat back down, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Then go home. There’s not much left for us tonight.”

Yoongi finally looked up at his friend. “Yet we’re still here at…” He glanced behind Namjoon to see the time on the computer. “…midnight.”

Raising an eyebrow, Namjoon glanced at the watch around his wrist, startled to see that it was as late as Yoongi said. By now you’d be in bed, hopefully sleeping, but he knew that you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep until he got home safely.

“Go home,” Yoongi suggested, seeing the flash of disappointment on Namjoon’s face. “You’re the one with a wife at home. Go be with her Joon.”

At the mention of you, he sharply inhaled, suddenly shifting in his chair and turning sideways so he could see the computer screen. However, next to his computer was a picture of you and him.

He was sitting on the couch with you in-between his legs, his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you close as you held your arm out to take the selfie, all while holding up the official adoption document in your other hand. The two of you were smiling and at the time, the right side of your neck hadn’t been marked yet.

It was one of his favorite pictures, one of the happiest days of his life, but it also served as a reminder of the dreams that he had taken away from you.

“Angel’s not my wife,” Namjoon softly corrected, his favorite nickname for you soothing his emotions for a brief moment.

The atmosphere in the studio immediately shifted. The easy and slightly stressed out tension dropped as Namjoon’s emotions slipped, changing to reflect on his sadness and disappointment. Usually he had a tight grip on his feelings when his friends were around, but this time, he didn’t care enough to reign them back in right away.

Yoongi’s ears pressed down to his skull, his tail swaying back in forth in distraught as Namjoon’s emotions washed over him. It was nowhere near as bad as when Hoseok grieved over being separated from Sarah, but it was close enough to remind Yoongi of that.

“Is she okay?” Yoongi sat up, wondering if you had been hurt in any way. If that were the case, then why was Namjoon here? His instincts wouldn’t have let him leave you while his mate was hurt.

Namjoon nodded, taking the pencil that had been laying on the desk. “She’s fine.”

“Then what’s…” Frowning, Yoongi’s tail lightly hit his leg as he thought, trying to understand the sudden turn in events. In the last year, the only time he recalled Namjoon being withdrawn, was when they first met. All Yoongi had said was to go home and be with…his wife.

“Namjoon,” he gently called out, watching as the wolf Hybrid refused to look at him. “She’s your Mate. It’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not,” Namjoon bitterly said, lightly tossing the pencil back on to his desk, watching it bounce a few times before landing on the floor. Staring at the photograph, at your unmarked neck, his eyes watered up. “Angel will never be my wife, Yoongi. She’ll only ever be my owner.”

Running a hand through his hair, Yoongi clenched his jaw, trying to not let Namjoon’s emotions distract him. He took a deep breath, refusing to be suffocated by the guilt and frustration his friend felt. “We’re Hybrids, Namjoon. In our world she is your Mate. She bears your Mate Mark. Angel is, to use the human’s term, your wife.”

A whine ripped through Namjoon as he turned to look at his friend, feeling Yoongi’s own disappointment and pain as a result of his own emotions. Yoongi just didn’t understand it.

“No.” He simply said, shaking his head. “The humans will never see us as husband and wife. One request to see my adoption papers is all that it’ll take for them to make up their minds once they see her name. They might humor us and say we’re Mates, but to them, she’ll always be my owner. I’ll never be able to call her my wife and be taken seriously.”

Yoongi stared at his friend, blown away at the sudden anger that swirled around him. He had known that this bothered Namjoon, but never in a million years did he think that it was kept locked up deep inside him.

Despite the law changes in the last twenty years, Hybrids had more rights now than when they were first created. But for some reason, humans never did away with the law denying marriage between a Hybrid and their owner, even when lawmakers knew that it was a common occurrence.

Apparently, a Hybrid marrying their owner was seen as, inhumane.

Even with that one law, it typically didn’t matter what the humans thought, as long as the Mate bore the Mate Mark, then they were a married couple in Hybrid society. The mark served as not only a physical declaration, but the mate’s scent would no longer be just theirs, but a mix of their own and who had marked them, announcing to every Hybrid in the area that they were together.

A wedding was simply done for the human’s benefit.

Namjoon knew all this. So why was he refusing to listen to facts?

Licking his lips, Yoongi remembered a similar reaction coming from Namjoon, back when it was winter and the two of them had been walking with Hoseok to Sarah’s shop, when they had forgotten about the laws.

“Is this all because of last winter?” He asked, knowing that it was true when Namjoon’s ears rested on his head. “Joon, why? Why are you dwelling on that?”

He shook his head. It was stupid and Yoongi was right. You were his Mate and that meant more to Namjoon than anything in the world. But it riddled him with guilt because he would never be able to give you what you wanted.

“I’m still part human,” he simply answered, staring at the floor. “I’m not just some animal like they want to think.”

There was no doubt about that. Every Hybrid was still half human, and even with the laws that had been created to protect them from abusers, there were still people who were prejudice against them simply because their DNA wasn’t one hundred percent human. It was something that every Hybrid dealt with at some point in their life. There was no getting around it, unless by some miracle you were raised within a home with purely kind humans. That was a rarity, but after seeing you and Namjoon together, and then Hoseok and his Mate, it gave Yoongi hope that the future generation wouldn’t have to suffer like they had.

Namjoon roughly wiped his eyes, forcing back the tears so that they wouldn’t slip out. Now that he had spoken his piece, he began to collect his emotions, hating that he had let them out in the first place.

Standing up, Yoongi silently walked across the floor and to Namjoon’s desk, opening the drawer on the left-hand side. Inside was a notebook, battered from use and if Yoongi were to flip through the pages, he’d find Namjoon’s delicate handwriting filling the pages. Lines crossed out and rewritten. Some underlined and with coffee stains or doodles in the corner.

He waited for Namjoon to take the journal before speaking again. “Then write it out. Take all the fucked-up crap the humans’ dish out about us, and serve it back to them. Make them regret everything they’ve said and done to us, but Namjoon…don’t you ever forget that you have a Mate back home who loves, and we both know she waits up for you to come home.”

The notebook fit perfectly in Namjoon’s hands. It had been a gift from you in the early days, not even a week after he came to stay with you and it became clear that he was incapable of sleeping through an entire night, without having nightmares.

“Write.” You said, gently smiling at Namjoon.

He took the notebook from you. It was simple with a brown moleskin cover and a spiral ring to make it easier to turn the pages. “Write what?” He asked, turning it over in his hands as if it would reveal the reason for why you gave him this.

You shrugged. “Whatever you want. It’s yours now. Notes about your day, ideas, thoughts that you want to remember. Hell, you can even write a grocery list if you want. I saw it while at the store and thought…well I thought if you wrote in it, it might help you to sleep at night.”

As you explained, he looked up from the journal to watch your reaction, seeing that you were being genuine. Your emotions were nothing but kind and wanting to help him, and it surprised him. You were different from the others, and he couldn’t help but wonder why.

But he didn’t get the chance to ask. Instead you glanced at the kitchen with a smile, getting out of your seat. “I can smell the cookies baking from here. They should be done soon, but I wanted to give you this before you went back to your room for the night.”

And write, he did.

It took some time for him to feel comfortable writing about the nightmares that plagued him, the memories that were so realistic he tasted the blood building up in his mouth when he abruptly woke up in the middle of the night.

He had tired documenting his memories, but each attempt had been painful and felt wrong. It wasn’t until he began to write songs that everything fell in to place. Growing up, he had attempted songwriting as a way to cope with his life, and he thought the habit had long since been forgotten over the years, but it came back to him like he never stopped.

The lyrics, the beats and melodies he found himself hearing in his mind and tapping out on the flat surfaces were coming to him like water drifting in a river.

“Go home,” Yoongi encouraged once again. “Go home to her. Go to bed. I’ll finish up listening to the songs and make sure everything’s set for tomorrow. Okay?”

There was no more arguing with Yoongi. He was right. Sleep and holding you close was what Namjoon needed, and with how his visit had gone at the store this afternoon, he knew you needed it too. With a nod, he stood up from his chair, watching Yoongi settle into it and scoot closer to the desk.

The conversation wasn’t over though. Maybe just for tonight, but they both knew that it would come up again whether they wanted it to or not. This wasn’t something that could be buried forever. For right now, they were both willing to cover it up until they weren’t exhausted and emotional.

“Thanks Yoongi,” Namjoon slipped his bag over his shoulder, stealing a glance at the photograph once more.

Yoongi merely waved it away, his tail waving back and forth. “Don’t worry about it. Get some sleep for both of us.”

He watched as Namjoon left, and even then, he didn’t turn back to the computer until he could no longer hear his footsteps. With a shake of his head, Yoongi sighed as he stared at the same photograph.

He wondered if Namjoon knew that back then, even without you having his Mate Mark, they looked like a couple in love. That even back then, they were always destined for each other. Whether the laws wanted to accept them or not.

The world passed by Namjoon, although there wasn’t much of it to see at this hour. Besides the bus driver, he was the only passenger which wasn’t uncommon. Many nights he wanted to tell you about the people he saw on the bus only to have wait until morning when you were awake, settling for scribbling reminders into his notebook.

The lack of passengers never bothered him. The quiet was actually comforting to him after listening to music all day, the silence allowed his mind to wander as he watched people through the window. Tonight however, he was focused on the flyer he held.

Chewing on his bottom lip, he wasn’t too surprised that this had been on the bulletin board, but the fact that he had discovered it under the hundred other posters was a miracle in itself. The thin white flyer was advertising an underground rap battle taking place at the Lotus.

He had been to Lotus a few times with you, but he wasn’t able to recall where exactly a rap battle would be able to place. The last time he was there, bodies had been pressed against each other as strobe lights bounced off of jewelry and exposed skin, recalling how you were lit up in blues and pinks while you danced against his front with a drink in a free hand, the music thumping in his ears as he stole sips from your glass.

Maybe there was a place for it. He had just been too preoccupied to look for it.

“Alright Namjoon, we’re here.”

Lifting his head, he was surprised to see that they were already at the last stop for the bus. “Thanks Jerry, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Son, don’t you ever sleep?” Jerry turned in his seat to look back at Namjoon.

Namjoon simply grinned, folding the flyer in half and sticking it in his pocket as his tail bumped against one of the poles. “When wolves start sleeping at night I will.”

Jerry chuckled, waving as Namjoon exited the bus to begin the walk back home.

The bus stop was a twelve-minute walk from home and like with riding the bus, he enjoyed this time to himself. Besides you, the only company he needed was the one that nature provided all on its own. Crickets chirping in the grass, the fluttering of the tree leaves as birds and owls moved around. It was peaceful, and right now, that was what he wanted.

Deep down, he knew that Yoongi was right. That in their world, you were rightfully his wife, the Mate Mark simply taking place of a wedding ring. His heart knew it and so didn’t his soul, but his mind kept fighting it.

The human side of him knew that without a wedding certificate and wedding bands, society wouldn’t acknowledge him as your husband. They might lightly toss around the term Mate, but they would never mean it. To them, he was your Hybrid and nothing more.

Reaching for his phone in his other pocket, he slowly unwrapped the earbuds, slipping one in his ear while scrolling through his music. He would have put in the other, but the memory of you worrying that people might sneak up on him without hearing them came to mind and kept him from doing so. It had been adorable to see you so concern about him, and since he hadn’t had anyone to worry about him in the first place, he didn’t have the heart to tell you that his other set of ears would have picked up on the sound of twig snapping off in the distance.

What bothered him the most about all this, was that he had known. He had known since he first started living with you that you dreamed about one day marrying the love of your life. As he walked down the memorized path, his mind wandered back to that morning.

Namjoon’s ear flicked towards the closed bedroom door as he laid in bed, the blankets pulled up to his chin as he forced himself to remember where he was, like he has been for the last three days.

He had come to stay with you at your house due to the overcrowding at the Shelter, all the scents and noises had been too much for him. Your place was quiet, allowing him to uncoil and calm down.

The most important thing, was that he was safe here.

If memory served right, then today was the start of the weekend. Glancing at the clock that you had on the nightstand, he doubtfully looked back at the door and then back at the device, wondering if it was wrong. It was six in the morning.

From the bedroom he was able to hear low voices and the soft pap of your footsteps against the wooden floor. That was you alright. But why you were awake? Weren’t weekends meant to be used for sleeping in?

Sitting upright, he ran a hand through his hair, his other hand clenching the blankets as he scanned the room once again. Did this mean you were expecting him to be up too? You had been nothing but nice to him since the night of the storm, but he knew how things have a habit of not being what they seem. It had been three days and already you exceeded his expectations of him staying with you.

It was like…you enjoyed his company.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden buzzing, your hurried footsteps echoing this time instead of being quiet. He waited with bated breath, at first thinking that you had been running to the guest bedroom that you told him he could stay in, but there was nothing but silence right outside his door.

Namjoon pushed back the blankets and stood up, making sure to smooth out the blankets and pillows so that they appeared undisturbed, leaving the room once he was satisfied. He was curious as to what was happening, but he hadn’t been expecting the smells to hit him.

The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled his senses as a sweet tart had his mouthwatering. Without thinking, he followed the smells to where it opened up into the living room and kitchen, spotting you by the counter. Next to him, the TV was on to a show with women wearing white dresses, the volume turned down to low so it didn’t travel down the hall to the bedrooms.

His footsteps were silent as he entered the kitchen, curiously watching you plate the large muffins onto a glass plate. In front of you was a light blue mug with steam wafting up from it. With a deep inhale, he realized these were the things he had been smelling.

As if you had been expecting him, you turned to look at Namjoon, gently smiling as you plated the last muffin. “I’d thought you be sleeping for a while,” you spoke, setting the empty tray back on top of some potholders he hadn’t noticed.

Namjoon didn’t speak, and apparently, you didn’t mind. “I’m so used to getting up early that it’s hard to sleep in sometimes. So, I tend to do a lot of baking in the morning to have something to do.”

You reached up to brush a loose strand of hair back, automatically patting the back of your hair to make sure that it hadn’t fallen out of the messy bun you threw it up in. Still dressed in bed clothes, an oversized shirt that was tied at the side and a pair of thin pajama pants, you took one of the small plates and set a blueberry muffin on it, handing it to Namjoon.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise, hesitating to take it.

But you waited, and after a few minutes, he carefully took the plate.

“They just came out of the oven so they’re hot,” you reminded, pointing at the butter and the knife on the table. “I recommend cutting it in half and spreading some butter on them, they taste so good.”

Namjoon didn’t move.

With a lick of your lips, he saw the emotions in your eyes waver as you made your own plate and went to the table, doing exactly what you had suggested he do. He knew that you were holding your emotions in check for him, but he didn’t say anything as he started to copy your movements. At the sight of the butter melting on the hot muffin, his stomach growled, making his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“There’s more than enough if you want a second,” you gently encouraged. He didn’t even need to look up to hear the smile in your voice.

The morning after the storm, trees had been knocked down so you had stayed home while the roads were getting cleared, claiming you didn’t want to get caught up in the cleanup. At lunch time you had knocked on his door to tell him that lunch was ready if he was hungry, and despite your promises that it was okay, he lingered at the hallway, unsure if you were sincere that he could not only just eat, but to enter the room. When he finally joined you at the table, he had sensed your shock at how little he had taken – barely enough to feed a small child – and again you encouraged him to eat as much as he wanted.

He never said it, but he had heard crying coming from your room that night. His ears had flattened against his skull at the muffled sound of your sadness, feeling a wave of the emotions you were experiencing. You may not have known what Namjoon had gone through, but you had begun to piece together the possibilities.

“Would you like some coffee too?”

Your voice had roused him from his thoughts, glancing up at you to see you pointing at the mug you had set on the table. Another sniff and he was nodding, watching you smile before going around him to get a second mug, this one a warm orange, and recreated the drink.

“Here you go,” you murmured, your smile growing as he accepted it without waiting.

He was hungry and for the first time, he was starting to feel okay with taking the things that you were giving him.

"I’m going to sit on the couch,” you explained, drinking your own coffee as you picked up your plate again. “You can join me if you want.” With that, you went into the living room, comfortably sitting down as you turned the volume up a little bit.

Namjoon didn’t join you right away. Instead, he readjusted the grip he had on the mug, and cautiously took a sip. Instantly the inside of his chest warmed up, the slightly bitter taste of the coffee beans waking up his mind that was still foggy from sleeping.

He stared at you from where he stood, awake but confused. Why were you being so polite, so kind to him? Was there something you wanted from him that he hadn’t been able to sense yet? Yet every time he tried to understand your emotions, he got nothing but unrelenting patience and happiness from you. He hadn’t even spoken to you yet, and you were happy he was here. At least, that’s what he was assuming from how you felt.

Making up his mind, he quietly sat on the other end of the couch with a seat in between you and him, gingerly taking a bit out of the blueberry muffin now that it wasn’t so hot it hurt. It was like heaven in fluffy bread that melted in his mouth, the blueberries bursting with sweetness and the occasional bitter taste.

On the TV, a woman said yes to a dress and her friends were screaming in happiness, capturing his attention as he tried to understand what was happening.

“They’re shopping for wedding dresses,” you explained, having seen the confused look on Namjoon’s face. “I’ve binge watched every episode for this show, I love seeing all the different gowns and weddings, gets me excited for the day that I get to go through this. But that won’t be for a long time.”

There was a longing in your voice that had peaked Namjoon’s interest, and as you explained, he noticed that your eyes had lit up with the unmentioned dream. He knew what marriage was and that humans didn’t always marry the right person, and while he didn’t really see the point in them, he hoped that one day you’d get to live out your dream.

You deserved it.

Namjoon winced as his shoes echoed in the silent entryway, snapping out of his memories when he sensed your steady heartbeat. It was with a start that he realized you were actually asleep, not just pretending to be like you usually did when he was this late.

It was good that you were asleep, but as he walked to the bedroom, guilt filled him at the thought of missing these quiet moments with you. Passing by the couch, he turned off the lamp that had been left on, enveloping the room in darkness.

He was already discarding his shirt when he entered the bedroom, tossing it in the hamper when he saw you. His body relaxed at the sight of you curled up under the blankets, your hair off of your neck to reveal your Mate mark. A soft growl came from him as he took his pants off, sliding under the blankets in just his underwear, too tired to bother pulling on a pair of sweat pants. Not that you would complain anyways.

On instinct, he curled his body around yours, wrapping an arm around your waist as he buried his face in your hair. Your scent of nutmeg and crisp apples was comforting him, the sound of your soft sigh and the way your body automatically curved backwards into his embrace even as you slept didn’t go unmissed by Namjoon.

With you in his arms, it was easy to push away the rest of the world, especially like this. But it also only served to remind him what he’d taken away from you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing the Mate mark, lips brushing against your skin with every word. “I’m sorry I can’t fix this baby. I’m so sorry Angel.”