#sitting in the grass mid-run trying to catch my breath

[tramontane-fire]

food/diet/weight/bodytalk bullshit

[debonairprincesposts]

BEHOLD BABES! THE SCRUMPTIOUS ANGST I PROMISED.

My heart hurt while writing this idk man. I love him but I wanna see him hurt then comfort him. Am I a sadist for that? Don’t matter either way.

Enjoy the angst (☞ ͡ ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡ ͡°)☞

Tw: Panic, blood, severed limb, difficulty breathing. Don’t like, don’t read.

Proceed at your own discretion.

Takes place in the 8th episode

Saying that Lucifer was worried is an understatement. Heaven had basically declared war against his daughter and her hotel. As much as he wants to be there, he cannot act unless Charlie herself gets hurt. And if they’re planning on hurting her, there’s no guarantee that they won’t come to his home to hurt his 15 year old son as well.

“I’ll be fine, Dad,” Says (Name) as he tries to comfort Lucifer. “Charlie is the one that needs your help right now.”

“I know that,” Lucifer sighs. “I just want to make sure that you’ll be alright.” He looks up at his son with concern swirling in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, Dad.” Says (Name) as he flexes his arm muscles, “I’m a big boy! I can handle myself. Besides- I’ve been taking combat lessons from uncle Ozzie, I’ll be okay.” He smiles trying to reassure Lucifer.

Lucifer smiles at the silliness of his boy. “Alright then- You better be alive when I come back, kiddo.” He says as his smile drops to a concerned frown.

“Promise ” (Name) smiles. “Now, get going- Don’t want to be late now, do you? Don’t forget to give me a call when you’re done.”

Lucifer hugs (Name) as he says, “Of course! I’ll call you right after everything is taken care of.” He lets go as he steps back.

“Good luck, Dad.” (Name) waves with a smile.

Lucifer salutes him before he takes off with a grin.

——————————————-

After the fight, Lucifer helps rebuild the hotel. He tries to call (Name) to tell him about the events that partook a few minutes prior, but (Name) is not answering any of his calls. Panic begins to well in his chest. (Name) always answers his calls. He’s never not picked up, ever. In a hurry, he tells Charlie he’s leaving as he quickly makes a portal back to his castle.

As he steps out of the portal, he’s met with destruction all over the place, the castle doesn’t seem to be harmed much but the gardens and fountains surrounding it are in complete shambles. As he follows the path of destruction, he spots (Name)’s phone on the ground, screen all cracked, and is that blood? His breath catches in his throat as he summons his wings and swiftly makes his way to the supposed scene of the fight, now fully panicking.

No- no no no- Please let him be okay. I cannot lose anyone else.

As he continues his flight to the other side of the castle, he spots something in the peripheral of his vision that makes him immediately halt in mid air in absolute terror, a wing that looks frighteningly similar to his son’s, golden blood gushing from the severed limb. His breaths are shaky as he slowly goes down on one knee, mind racing, emotions spiraling, gently cradling the black and red, now mostly gold from the blood, bleeding wing in his arms, staring at it for a couple seconds processing that the appendage he currently has cradled in his arms belongs to his son. He snaps out of it with a gasping breath as he bolts towards the scene of the fight.

Please please please- Please be alive- Please!

Several bodies of dead angels litter the ground of his garden, blood staining the grass that once was a lovely shade of green with gold. He searches frantically, eyes bolting all around the place with bated breath.

“(Name)!” He calls out, voice trembling, filled with absolute dread, clutching the wing in his arms even tighter, still with a gentle hold.

Once he finally finds who he’s looking for, his blood runs cold, eyes widening, breath stopping as he struggles to breathe, air completely escaping his lungs.

No-

The sight of his son laying in the remains of the destroyed fountain, golden blood leaking from where his severed wing used to sit, sends anxiety through his chest, tears obscuring his vision.

No no no NO NO!!!

Eyes wide in fear, breaths coming out in gasps as more panic begins to well in his chest. (Name) does not seem to be moving at all, much less breathing. Concerningly still as he lays on his side, his back facing Lucifer showing the place where his wing got cut off from. (Name)’s shirt is cut up, stained with golden blood that seems to be flowing from his side, more blood gushing from the area his wing used to be. At least his other five seem to be intact.

Lucifer lets the wing drop from his grip as he practically trips over his feet, making his way over, then drops to his knees near (Name), and cradles his upper body towards himself.

He perches (Name)’s head on his shoulder. “(Name)?” Lucifer gently slaps (Name)’s face as he hopes for a reaction, any kind of reaction. He just needs to know that he’s still alive. However, he’s starting to doubt that as more time goes by.

More injuries span across his front, with a gash from the bottom of his left jaw all the way down to his collarbone. Blood trailing down the side of his mouth. Another scratch on his cheek, and his side seems to have been stabbed. Golden blood mixed with the water around them as the water seemed to glisten with angelic blood and Lucifer’s tears. As he holds (Name) tight, attempting to heal him with his angelic magic, he hopes that all this is just a really vivid nightmare. He cannot lose anyone else in his life. Not his son. He would gladly sacrifice himself if it meant his son and daughter would get to live. He gently slaps (Name)’s cheek again in hopes of him opening his eyes.

"Come on, (Name)..." he says, tears streaming down his cheeks, voice cracking as he chokes back a sob. "Open your eyes for me, buddy."

Blood smears all over his hands and clothes, but he has half a mind to pay those any attention.

Damnit! How much is heaven going to take from him before they are satisfied with his suffering? Are the thousands of years of being stuck in his own mistake not enough?

His angelic healing appears to have a positive effect on (Name)’s wounds. They’re healing, he’s breathing, no matter how shallow. That’s a relief. Lucifer got there on time. He made it on time. He couldn’t imagine what would’ve happened if he was even just a second late.

His worries are set aside for now as he lets his fury consume his mind for the moment.

If a war is what heaven wants,

Putting his arms underneath (Name)’s knees and upper back while being careful of his wings, as he carries him, making his way inside his somewhat unscathed castle.

A war is what heaven will get.

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[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

A yeosang x reader smut fanfic where she's taking photos in a field and Yeosang runs into her knocking her over mid handstand pose, so she ends up hurt and he carries her away and books a hotel room. Gets her in a bath and checks over the wounds etc?

This one was cute. Enjoy

Unprotected sex, mature, MDNI

Yeosang accidently hurts the reader (M)

You were trying to snap a few quick photos. The weather was perfect, and you lived near a stunning field bursting with flowers. You had wanted to capture something cute and coquette to showcase the new outfits you ordered from a small online store. The day felt magical, and your excitement was through the roof. The outfit looked just as you had envisioned, and the lighting was ideal, making your photos turn out adorable. You were so thrilled that you couldn’t resist doing a cartwheel in the grass.

But just before your feet hit the ground, you felt a sudden impact.

You let out a grunt of pain and tumbled, scraping your elbows as you faceplanted into the soft grass.

What. The. Fuck.

Gritting your teeth, you tried to sit up. You were adjusting your clothes when you managed to stand, A sharp pain shot through your ankle, making you wince—it felt sprained. Annoyed, you turned to find the source of the chaos and saw a guy struggling to get up from beneath his fallen bike. Anger welled up inside you.

How in the hell do you hit someone with a bike in the middle of an open field?

“I’m so sorry! My bike was out of control. Are you okay?” the guy asks, noticing your scrapes.

You take a deep breath to calm down, pushing back tears. “No, I’m not okay. I can hardly walk,” you reply, frowning.

He searches for the right words but can’t seem to find them.

“Umm, how can I help?” He asks, uncertainty lacing his voice.

“I need to get home,” you reply coolly, taking deliberate steps despite the pain. You know it was probably an accident, but this whole situation has ruined your mood.

“I live close by!” he insists, hurriedly walking beside you as you try to hobble away. “I can get you cleaned up. I just feel really bad,” he concludes, guilt etched across his face. It’s clear he can’t let you go like this without trying to make amends.

You pause, glancing up at him. His sincerity catches you off guard. “Fine,” you say, resigned. “Lead the way.” 

As you both start moving, you notice him constantly glancing at you, concern flickering in his eyes. “What’s your name?” he asks, trying to break the tension.

“Y/N,” you reply, keeping your tone neutral.

“Pretty… I’m Yeosang. Really sorry again for this. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

The pain in your leg pulses with every step, but his earnestness softens the edges of your irritation. “I know it was an accident,” you say, “but it’s just... not the kind of day I needed.”

“I could carry you, if you want,” he offers, his voice a mix of hesitation and warmth.

Normally, you would have turned him down, pride holding you back. But as you take another step, the sharp pang in your leg makes you reconsider. The warm summer day suddenly feels stifling, and the thought of hobbling home feels overwhelming.

You glance at him, weighing your options. “You know what? I think I’d appreciate that,” you admit, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.

With a swift but gentle motion, Yeosang bends down, giving you a nod of reassurance. He scoops you up carefully, his hands steady under your legs and back. Surprised by his ease, you relax a little as he stands tall.

“See? Not so bad, right?” He teases, a playful smile breaking through the tension.

“Yeah, okay, this is definitely better than walking,” you concede, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. The heat of embarrassment washes over you, but there’s comfort in his strength and the way he carries you effortlessly.

As he strides forward, you find yourself appreciating the view from this new perspective. Maybe this day wouldn't end up being so bad after all.

When you arrive at his place, Yeosang keeps his word and helps you clean your wounds. As he disinfects the scrape on your face, you can't help but feel shy at his gentle touch. His brow is slightly furrowed in concentration, and you appreciate how careful he is, treating each scrape as if it were fragile.

“You’re all good now,” he says after a moment, his voice softening. You manage a small nod, trying to keep your composure. There’s something intimate about this moment, the way he’s dedicating his attention to you, and it makes you feel both shy and cared for.

He gestures to the bathroom, offering you a pair of spare clothes while he takes your dirty ones to wash. They had gotten covered in dirt and grass from the fall. “They might be too big on you, but it’s better than wearing those,” he chuckles, holding out a comfortable-looking t-shirt and sweatpants.

“Thanks; I’ll take anything right now,” you reply, grateful for the kindness.

Once you emerge, you find Yeosang waiting for you, a welcoming smile on his face. “Looks good on you,” he remarks playfully, and you feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment.

“Thanks,” you mumble, trying to hide your bashfulness. The atmosphere is light

You had to wait for your clothes to finish washing, so you both decided to sit on his couch and talk while you waited.

At first, it felt pretty awkward; you were in a stranger's house wearing nothing but a baggy t-shirt. But as the minutes passed, the tension began to dissipate, and you found yourself settling in.

“So is this how you get girls alone in your apartment? You just hit them with your bike and hope for the best?” You joked, hugging one of his throw pillows as you lounged on the couch.

He rolled his eyes, a playful smirk on his face. “Haha, you’re not going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Hmm, maybe once my ankle feels better, I’ll consider it,” you teased back. “But for now, I have free reign to bring it up whenever I want.”

“Alright, let me make it up to you,” he said with a teasing smile.

“And how will you do that?” You quirk a brow, intrigued.

“Come here if you want to find out,” he replied playfully, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You scoot closer, your knees brushing against his, and tilt your head curiously. He leans in, the space between you shrinking, and pauses just a breath away from your lips. The air is thick with anticipation, and for a moment, time seems to stand still.

“Can I?” he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, heart racing, and in an instant, he closes the distance between you. His lips are soft against yours, and you feel his hand gently caress your face. The kiss is sweet and tentative at first, but it quickly morphs into something more heated. His hands tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and the sweetness shifts to an urgency that ignites a fire within you. 

You lose track of everything around you; the distant hum of the dryer singing its lullaby fades into oblivion.

He pushes you back against the sofa cushions before kissing down your body. He kisses over your cotton panties before he pulls them away from your body. He takes his time before giving you what you want. Your heart races as he softly takes your ankle in his grasp and places a tender kiss against the swell that formed there. 

“So sorry baby” He mumbles against the skin. “I'm gonna make it all better”

He kisses down your calf and leaves a few love bites on the inside of your thigh before finally kissing your clit. He draws a lazy circle around it before laying another kiss against it. He's building up the tension, making you needy. Then suddenly he's sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it sloppily. He lets it go with a pop and looks up at you for approval. 

“Feeling better?”

“Not yet,” you sigh dreamily. 

He shoots you a smirk and sinks back into you, this time prodding his tongue at your hole, collecting your juices and dragging it back up, lathering you in his spit. He brings his focus back to your clit pulling it back between his lips and sucking gently while rough hands knead and massage your hips and thighs.

His eyes are closed in bliss, savoring every taste of you, getting lost between your folds.

He's practically making out with your cunt and you can't help the permenant arch your back is in.

He dips down again and plunges his tongue deep inside you as far as it’ll go and he hums in delight, satisfied with the juices that spill out onto his tongue.

Your fingers find their way into his hair again and he pulls out to flatten his tongue against your clit, letting you roll your hips up against his face. You were slowly losing it; you could feel the subtle shake of your thighs and knew you were close. Yeosang slips two fingers in and lets you ride his face pumping leisurely, allowing you to take most of the control.

“Almost! Please!” you whine.

Yeosang shakes his head back and forth, the movement adding extra pleasure to your already blissed-out state of mind and you finally cum. He helps you ride it out and finally pulls away from you with a finally peck to your clit.

“Better now?”

“Yeah…yes” You breathe out heavily with a smile.

“good”

[funky-fox-fics]

Prompt: prank

So let's set the scene:

Beautiful autumn day. Skizz logs onto the server, says hello to Joe and Cub and a few others who happen to be on. Sun's shining, birds are singing and chirping in the boughs of trees, bobbing up and down with their cheery little tunes. A breeze races through the trees, winding around each trunk and frightening the leaves, which tremble at its speed. It whistles past him, darting into the starter base, and he smiles.

For a moment all is calm--normal and typical of a day on the server (except for Zedaph dying in various ways, which--well, he supposes, in some odd way, is also normal and typical of a day on the server). He's ready to get some building done, probably get distracted halfway through, and then--

There's an odd structure near his pyramid.

It catches his eye. He pauses as he walks to his own pyramid, sets down the shulkers, studies it with a scrutinizing eye. It's... a circle made of what must be coarse dirt, filled with all sorts of flowers--poppies and peonies, azaleas and azure bluets. Atop an azalea bush sits a bright blue parrot, which makes a soft squawk as he stares at it.

"Alright," he says, very carefully. "This is either a prank, or someone left their pet and a bunch of flowers at my base, which--definitely a prank." Must be sculk-triggered too--there's no chests, pressure plates, or tripwires in sight.

Well. He's not one to pass up a good prank. Whatever this bright blue parrot has in store, he's probably ready for it.

Skizz drops his armor in the nearest half-full shulker and marches over to the parrot, ready to--die or something, he's not sure. He's never sure with this server, because typical days on the server include Zedaph dying a lot.

Finally, he stops near the parrot, close enough to pat its head, close enough to speak the Naming Charm aloud and glimpse its name in his mind. Loud Jessica reads the Nametag. The parrot looks up at him, eyes peering into his soul.

For a moment he thinks: maybe this was just a kind-hearted gesture--a parrot, for me? With all these flowers and things? That's--

And then the ground shrieks.

It's a horrible thing, a multi-layered sound rising up from beneath his feet and shaking the grass he stands on. The flowers quiver at the sound of it. It's deafening, drowning out anything else, and it sounds agonizing, like a shriek of death, like someone screaming for anyone--anyone--there's no words, just one noise, just one awful shriek--

It trembles through his bones, vibrating, and the hair on the back of his neck stands up and his wings flare out and he steps back and then suddenly he's running, purely on instinct, mind still full of that awful, awful shriek, and before he's aware of what he's even doing he's in the air and flapping wildly away from the shriek and--

He's panting.

Void. What was that.

He pulls up sharply, hovering instead, and twists around mid-air. Distantly, he can see the speck of the parrot, sitting placidly on its little azalea bush. His heart is still pounding. He takes a few deep breaths, still keeping himself aloft, before deciding that he's calm now and that he's going to go see what in void's name just happened.

Slowly, wings spread wide, he glides down to the ground and carefully lands, soundless, in the patch of flowers. He looks at Loud Jessica. Loud Jessica looks back.

He braces himself. He digs his shovel into a block.

The scream rises again, and he grits his teeth, trying to keep himself from fleeing. Void, it's loud. He digs again, straight underneath himself, and then mines the stone underneath that. He falls onto stone floor right next to a wall of shriekers.

They pulse and wriggle where they're rooted, constantly sensing the air, listening for soundwaves to set off their shriek response. There's so many of them--Skizz begins to count. Three-wide walls, five shriekers high, four walls--

60 shriekers?

Good Void. No wonder it had been so loud--one shrieker was loud enough. Which of the madlads on the server was responsible for this?

There's footsteps up above, and the shriekers, true to their name, shriek.

This time he's definitely not prepared for it, and fight-or-flight takes over, sending him flapping straight into the wall--away from the shriekers, away from the screams, away from the way it rumbles in his bones and sets his ears ringing--

Someone slips down into the cave as the shriekers are recovering from the scream, quick and swift, and--

they grab his hand--

He flinches away, still on edge, heart still racing, clutching his hand to his chest. His wings flare. The other person says nothing. Just stands there. Places a few wool blocks as a wall between them and the sculk, white, and Skizz leans against them, looks at the person--

Oh. It's Impulse there. There's a hint of worry in his eyes, like maybe he's gone too far, maybe he'd hurt Skizz--

Skizz takes another breath to steady himself and his voice, and then he says, "How many shriekers was that?"

"Sixty-four," Impulse says quietly. "A whole stack. May or may not have bribed Tango a little bit."

Skizz begins to laugh, half terrified, half shocked. This breaks the silence, comforting as it might be--Impulse begins to laugh, and then they're both doubled over, gasping for breath as the fact that he'd gotten a stack of shriekers for one prank sinks in.

"Nether's skulls," Skizz manages, voice warm with laughs. "Sixty-four, dippledop. You really went all out for this!"

"They did this last season," Impulse says, composing himself, drying away all the laughter that had taken him over before. "Scar and Grian. It was hilarious. I thought--I mean, for a second I thought I'd crossed a line or something--"

"No, you're all good, man," Skizz says, offering Impulse a grin. "Just--you know. Dove instincts and all that. My wings aren't used to being the top predator!" He flexes them subconsciously.

For a moment all is silent--the good kind of silence, not the terrifying, comfort-only-in-being-quiet silence from before. Then, Skizz says, "You know, you really should laugh more. I like your laugh."

"Thanks. I try," Impulse says with a sort of sharp chuckle. Not like before--something terse and short, not full-bodied and bright like before. The one he usually uses. And it's--it serves its purpose, but Impulse doesn't really laugh like he'd just done, and Skizz just--

Impulse is so guarded, nowadays. It's rare to catch him so off-guard that he laughs like that. Skizz likes it.

(Together, they clean up the prank, and Skizz even gets to keep the parrot.)

[alicesought]

♡♠♢♣ ⁀ He wanted to touch things. That was his immediate thought, he wanted to feel the mushroom's stalk, the curling overgrowth, the grass beneath his boots, even just the fresh air away from smog and dust. His dreams were vivid, but never this vivid. A rational mind might try to justify all this-- but he's never been more certain. He's found a way home. Or home finally found him. And isn't that like a fairy tale? To just be-- whisked away!

" Bat-- Jabberwock, more like. Something like one. " He huffs over his shoulder mid skip, in far too good a mood to really express the vitriol he had for the flying rat. " I'm certain that's why I can't slay him! A Jabberwocky requires the right sword-- but, Wonderland, i-it hardly seems changed at all! Why, I-- " He stops. The sight of the table nearly took his breath. There was the change he dreaded in his absence. He continues forward, slowly creeping near, shoulders falling slack. " So... Hare is... he isn't here? " He couldn't hide the heartbreak in his tone. That was his best friend, after all, and he always did want a best friend, more than anything. At first all he can do is look to them with saddened eyes as they approach, but the hug caught him by surprise. It flooded his poor, mangled heart with shock, warmth, sadness. He nearly forgot to raise his arms and hug them back tight. Tetch gave very warm hugs, always, like he thought he might never get another. " I shall not stand to see you anything but grinning, dear cat.... you aren't alone now, neither of us are! It'll be okay, we'll make things right. I'll think of something, find a way, I-I promise! " What was already an obsession was now reinvigorated-- Wonderland must be saved, no cost too great. Cross his heart and hope to die, his madness will be like a steam train in its stubbornness. He always felt it was his responsibility, but it was one thing to hear the pleading cries of Wonderland as a distant echo, another to hear it from them wrapped in their very arms. But in an instant, he yanked from thought as he can't help but follow their feline eyes before they dissipate. And what does he see but a familiar cat at his table. And as though brought to life by the sight of a proper guest at the long dust steeped table, he grins wide with all his long teeth, runs up to its edge, tosses back his coat tails, and sits in his proper chair. He shuts his eyes as he sits, he sighs... and he laughs. " Hee hee! Right-o! For lack of warm tea, I suppose one ought to make polite conversation! We've much catching up to do and quite a ways to run, my friend. "

"The face I love to see on you old friend. Much has changed without you. So many unhappy faces. Insane people. And are we not the normal ones here? No I've been hearing so much about this man bat causing trouble." The skinnier male hummed as he walked into the forest with his arms spread out. His green eyes pinned on the man he was full of glee. Who wouldn't? Haven't seen your home in so long of course you'd be happy. A tea party table placed directly before them beyond the forest line. The classic house for the forever birthday party. The only difference was that it wasn't as colorful and light as it used to be.

"Wonderland missed you my old friend. It shows at the table. The tea is cold..everyone is gone.." he whispered with a pained tone. Losing his Cheshire smile before taking his friend by the shoulders and pulling him close into a tight hug." I thought I lost you to until I found you..our time together was what always made me happy. But now it's like how it used to be! I can help you find alice! Bring her back home. Brighten up wonderland!"

Placing his forehead against his he frowned deeply before shaking it off. Even with so many voices in your head. No matter how many. Your still lonely. You can hear them but not interact with them. His eyes were far from eyeing the teapot. But instantly. Snapped his attention to it. His body poofing before appearing at the table. A hot tea cup in his hand and a tea pot with another tea cup sitting at Hatter's end of the table. Though he didn't appear as a human now.

But his classic green self. A cat with long hair. Unique eyes. And a row of teeth moving back to the jawline. Using his paws like fingers he poured the tea without effort. Body floating lightly above the table as he held his tea cup in paw and drank it sparingly." Come. We have much to talk about!"

[comfortwriting]

Short Fuses - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

About/Requested: The reader has a short temper and anger issues, her boyfriend Fred is the only one who knows how to calm her down.

Warnings: Swearing, panic attack, little bouts of violence.

You scrunched up the parchment in your fists, biting the inside of your cheeks, standing up and you slammed your chair against the desk and stormed off, tears pricking at your eyes.

Calm down, the stress isn't good for you, breathe, you can get through this.

Anger and stress weren't little parts of your life, they were rather big - you were stressed most days, crying yourself to sleep, headaches so painful you couldn't concentrate on your work, and your fuse so short you would feel guilty most days for snapping at your friends, and your boyfriend, Fred.

Breaking out into the fresh, cool air, you tried to catch your breath, slow down your pulse, and stop your heart from trying to leap out of your chest.

Deep breaths Y/N, one... two... three... inhale...

"You alright, love?" Freddie's voice called out, catching you mid-inhale.

Breathing out, you shook your head, sighing and sitting down on the grass.

"Stressed again?" Fred asked, sitting down with you.

You nodded "Yeah, I don't know what's wrong with me, it never stops-"

Fred wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into him, the scent of fresh-baked bread and cinnamon engulfing you... you missed the burrow... you missed home.

"Whatever is going on, you can get through it, and you won't have to go through it alone." Fred pushed the stray hairs out of your face, pressing his lips against your cheek.

You couldn't hold back the tears, the lump in your throat expanded and you just wanted to scream at the top of your lungs.

Fred stood up, pulling his wand out from his trouser pocket.

"Stand up," he said softly, "you should know the drill by now, baby."

Whenever you got angry and needed to release some tension, you and Fred would often duel - whenever your professors came sprinting from the castle, screaming for you to stop, you and Fred would laugh; making them realise that the duelling was for practice only.

"Okay," you sighed, standing up, retrieving your wand "Hit me with your best shot, Freddie."

Jets of light, sparks, and loud yells spread through the school grounds, many first years started to panic, running inside to get help, other years assumed you were settling an agreement, a fair fight - but everyone else knew this routine just as well as you did - and many of the girls swooned over you and Fred battling for power.

"You've improved," Fred panted, wiping the sweat from his brow.

You couldn't help but break out into a smile but you still rolled your eyes "I could say the same to you," you panted back, smoothing out your stained and creased clothes.

On other days when you were too drained to duel, Fred often sneaked you into the prefect's bathroom to run you a hot bath, full of bubbles that smelled like fresh roses and jasmine.

Once you were soaking, Fred would massage your back, undoing knots and smoothing your skin, peppering your neck in soft kisses, and finally brushing your hair before you were ready to get out and be engulfed in a warm, cosy towel.

"It could be plenty of things, Y/N," Fred yawned, the lack of sleep catching up to him "the workload Snape gives you, your extra classes, the exams, your time of the month, the moon..."

You giggled and slapped Fred's arm but it made sense, you couldn't remember being this stressed when you were in black robes and a pointy hat, unable to stand straight with the books you were dragging from one class to another.

"Perhaps, but that doesn't explain my anger." you frowned, pulling apart the threading on the bottom of your shirt.

"Probably not," Fred frowned too, mirroring you "but you're going to get through this, even if it means you dropping classes-"

"Freddie, I can't - you know I can't-"

Fred shook his head, pulling your hand away from the loose threads, taking your hand in his.

"You need to put you and your mental health first," he said softly, "your health matters more than those N.E.W.Ts..."

Taglist: @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @xmalfoyweasleyx @onlyfreds @inglourious-imagines @youralternantpersonality @supermassiveblackhope @potters-heart @snivellouss @livvysnaps @holyheadharpies99 @sebby-staan

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Got no shame [Oliver Wood x Reader] - Challenge

Title: Got no shame Pairing: Oliver Wood x Female!Reader Word count: 2.5k Published: 27 May, 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: [x] Being the daughter of the coach of Puddlemere United gives you the opportunity to get close to the players, some even more than others. When Oliver gets injured, you don’t even care about being friends or less or more, you just need to know if he is okay. Challenge: [x] [x] This is part of @iliveiloveiwrite 's writing challenge

Song inspiration: No shame by 5 Seconds of Summer

Bingo: [x] [x] This is part of my Band--Psychos 1.5k Followers Bingo Card by @band--psycho and my Make me feel Bingo Card by @girl-next-door-writes​​

Square filled: Rain [ @band--psycho ]

Square filled: Temporary amnesia [ @girl-next-door-writes ]

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

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You have always been a big fan of quidditch, but unfortunately your abilities were never enough to become a professional. Luckily however, your father was the coach of the Puddlemere quidditch team. It was a daily occurrence for you to appear on their practice, overtime even becoming friends with some of the team members.

Benjy, the seeker of the team and Jocelind, one of the chasers quickly grew fond of you. Although your friendship started off on a rocky road. The two of them had a mission to tease you about their keeper, Oliver Wood’s crush on you. They thought his tries to catch your attention would be obvious to everyone, but it seemed you were the only one who couldn’t see it. Benjy and Jo made it their duty to remind you every single day how badly Oliver had fallen for you. Just like on that particular day, before one of their most important matches.

“Can you just stop?” You exhaled, pleading with the pair, the same subject repeating itself daily. Falling back onto one of the benches of the changing room, you heaved a heavy sigh, tired of their constant nagging.

“Sure, will you accept that Wood has a crush on you?” Benjy asked, teasingly wiggling his brows as he took a seat beside you, nudging your shoulder playfully.

“No! I will not! When he joined the team, he was this shy little boy, trying to adjust. He always talked to me, he always came to me for advice. If back then you said he had a crush on me, I might have believed you. But since then, he has become popular, girls and boys falling on their knees in front of him. I just can’t see it and I doubt out of all his choices I would be a contender,” you explained, sighing deeply.

“For Merlin’s sake,” Jo exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air, “each time he gives an autograph he is looking for your eyes, hoping for you to notice him. When the papers are taking photos of us, he looks like a meerkat trying to get your attention. How dumb can you be, woman?” She groaned as she folded her arms in front of her chest, shaking her head disapprovingly.

“You have had a crush on him for years, do something already,” Benjy added quickly before you could have replied. “Wood is my friend and I know him, he is mad for you.”

“Guys, please,” you pleaded, wanting to close the subject finally. “I would like nothing more than to believe you, but there’s no way Wood—,” before you could have continued, the entrance door of the changing room opened, a tall figure entering, his head covered under a hoodie, his clothes soaked, raindrops dripping to the floor.

“Oh, hi,” he lifted his head, revealing his identity. Pushing back his hoodie, you caught his dark eyes as he ran his hand across his short-cut, brown hair, his mere presence causing your cheeks to warm up. “You are early,” he added as none of you replied.

“Yeah, wanted to beat some sense into this woman,” Jo replied with a groan, clearly still annoyed by your blindness for Oliver’s feelings.

“Maybe I should beat some into you,” huffing, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, turning away from your friend’s gaze.

“Okay, why don’t we just take a deep breath and calm down?” Benjy interrupted.

“You clearly have something to discuss, should I leave?” Oliver asked as he looked around the three of you with a confused expression painted across his handsome face.

“Yes,” Jo replied, but you couldn’t handle another lecture.

“No,” you added, wanting to just stop them from nagging you any further.

“Well, that was helpful,” Oliver scoffed, trying to stop the little smirk from appearing in the corner of his lips. “So, which is it then?”

“No, because if you stay, it means they will quiet down finally and I need them to stop nagging me,” you replied as you stood up from the bench and headed towards the door. “Instead of getting on my nerves, you should start getting ready for the match,” you huffed in annoyance.

“As far as I’m concerned your father is our coach, not you,” Jo replied with gritted teeth.

“Indeed. But guess what, he would say the same,” you offered her a smug grin as you stepped out of the changing room, loudly shutting the door behind yourself.

As you headed to your father’s office, you heard loud footsteps following you. Turning around, you saw Oliver run after you, his clothes still drenched in water, but it didn’t stop him from coming after you. A soft smile appeared on your face as you patiently waited for him.

“Are you doing ground exercises?” You asked playfully as the boy finally halted beside you, trying to adjust his breathing.

“Very funny,” he scoffed, but you caught a tiny smile appearing in the corner of his lips. “I couldn’t stand the mood in the changing room. I have no idea what you have done, but Jo is quite pissed off,” he added, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“Did they tell you what we argued about?” You asked, panic settling deep inside you as you realised Oliver might just know of your crush on him.

“Nah, they didn’t say anything, other than that you are being stubborn and blind for whatever reason,” he furrowed, the words without context making no sense to him.

“So, I’ve heard,” you grimaced as you started walking towards your father’s office once again.

“Wait, can I ask you what the argument was about?” He reached for your arm, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. You turned back to look at him over your shoulder, his eyes holding curiosity.

“The person I like,” you replied, hoping for some sort of reaction from him.

“O— oh,” he breathed, somewhat disappointed as he let go of your wrist. The way he acted was certainly not what you expected and for a mere second you could see what Jo and Benjy were talking about. But a reasonable part of your brain quickly adjusted and decided to send you signals that reassured you it was probably just an involuntary reaction with no meaning behind it.

“Anyways, I will go and see my father. Maybe you should get ready,” you offered him a soft smile as you patted his shoulder and wished him good luck for the game.

As the match started, the rain was still pouring heavily, a batch of lightning struck on the ground, the players barely able to avoid them in time. You hid under your soaked hoodie as you cheered for the team, but deep down your stomach was in a knot, hoping for everyone to leave the game unscraped.

“Come on, Wood!” You shouted as the opponent flew towards his hoops, but luckily, he kicked the quaffle out of the way. His eyes looked for you for a good few seconds, before he caught sight of you and offered you a cheerful grin that you couldn’t stop from mirroring.

The match was rather aggressive, and the weather didn’t help the situation. Whilst you watched your friends fly around the pitch, their blue and yellow cloak following them in their route, a nervous feeling settled in you as a heavy rumble shook the area.

You stood up from the spectator stand and started heading down the stairs, wanting to feel closer to your friends. However, as you looked up, the next thing you saw was a blinding lighting that struck straight into the ground, sending none other than Oliver Wood off his position straight into the wall of the spectator stand across the pitch. A loud scream left your lungs, your heart beating in a dangerous pace as you watched his unconscious body fall towards the ground before someone slowed him down mid-air. Looking down at the benches, you saw your father with his wand in his hand pointing towards Oliver’s limp body, slowly placing him down on the fake grass.

As you started running down the stairs, you never felt more determined. You needed to see him, feel his pulse, check his body for injuries. It was driving you crazy how slowly your body moved before you finally caught sight of him surrounded by a couple of healers as they placed him on a stretcher. Almost feeling him in your grasp, you started running towards the injured boy, but before you could have caught up with the healers, two arms wrapped around you, pulling you back against a strong chest.

“He is going to be okay,” you heard your father’s voice, trying to sooth your worries away.

“Let me see him. Please, dad,” you replied, your voice weak and shaky. He turned you around and pulled you into a fatherly hug, just like the ones you received when you were little. As you finally started calming down, he leaned back and cupped your cheeks, removing the tear stains from your face that you didn’t even realise you had under the heavy rain.

“The healers will help him, but they will not let you in just yet, so take a deep breath, sit down with me on the bench and as soon as they signal for me, I will let you go. Sounds like a good plan?” He asked, hoping you would be able to think reasonably. After a heavy sigh you nodded, knowing that you couldn’t possibly do anything for him. You headed back towards the benches with your father and as they blew the whistle again, you listened to the game, but your mind was somewhere else, to be exact on the boy that the healers rushed away from you before you could even check on him.

It felt like eternity before your father placed a hand on your shoulder and nodded towards the exit of the pitch. Without a word or a thankful look, you started running after the healer that stood at the gate. When you arrived you greeted him and followed him diligently to the medical wing. The path felt like you’ve been walking for hours, even though it was only a couple of minutes. You were impatient, you wanted to see Oliver for yourself, making sure he was okay.

As you reached the medical wing and the large wooden doors opened, your eyes frantically searching for Oliver. As you caught his figure at the back of the room, you rushed up to him and sat down on the small stool beside his bed and took his hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly. Although it was you who needed to be reassured that he was alright. His eyes started slowly flattering before he finally opened them, looking around the room in confusion, groaning as he turned his head.

“Stay put, Wood,” you instructed him as you pulled your stool closer. “How are you feeling? Are you in a lot of pain?” You bombarded him with questions.

“I’m fine. My head and my back hurts, but I’m okay,” a small smile spread across his face as he squeezed your hand.

“You scared me,” you scolded him as you slapped the back of his hand gently, making him chuckle lightly.

“I didn’t mean to,” he replied with an innocent expression, but a hidden smile in the corner of his lips. “What happened exactly? I’m kind of blurry on the details.”

“A lightning struck beside you and it sent you straight into one of the spectator walls. When you started falling dad slowed you down to stop you from getting any further injuries,” you explained with a deep frown across your brows and concern lacing your eyes. “It was horrible,” you added with a shaky breath as you played with his hand in yours.

“Hey,” he called out to you in a soft tone, lifting his other hand to cup your cheek. “I’m perfectly fine, just a few little bruises,” he tried to reassure you, but your worry was still clear across your face. “Hey, did I ever tell you that I love the way you're screaming my name?” He chuckled softly as you felt your face burn under his intense gaze. He knew he needed to avert your attention, wanting to sooth your worries.

“What?” You asked, stunned.

“The last thing I remember is your loud cheer as you screamed my name,” he smirked proudly, enjoying as you played with his hand in your embarrassed state.

“I cheer for everyone,” you added in a silent tone, trying to avert his suspicions.

“I wish you would cheer only for me,” he sighed as he looked away from you, his gaze now fixed on the ceiling. A confused expression sat across your face as you lifted your gaze and looked at him.

“What do you mean?” You asked, completely baffled by his reply. For a single moment you believed he meant more than he let on, but a reasonable part of your brain quickly shooed those thoughts away.

“I meant what I said,” he replied nonchalantly.

“I can’t just cheer for you. I have to cheer for the whole team so we can all win,” you explained with a confused frown across your brows.

“I know. And I know it’s wrong of me, but it makes me jealous,” he spoke with a soft grimace, earning a surprised gasp from you. “I honestly don’t know what else to do to get your attention. At this point I just got no shame. I shamelessly try to catch your eyes, but every time I feel like you are looking at me, you go and distance yourself,” he scoffed. Heaving a heavy sigh, he turned back to you. “Do you think you could ever look at me like a man and not someone who is part of your father’s quidditch team or a simple friend? Do you think you would be able to like me at one point?” He asked, his eyes desperately searching for confirmation, starting your heart off in a quick pace.

A tiny smile started spreading across your face before it grew into a large grin and a loud laughter erupted from your lungs, throwing your head back in the process. Oliver sat beside you, having mixed feelings about your reaction. “You fool,” you chuckled as your laughter started dying down. “You dumb man” you continued shaking your head as you stood up from your stool and leaned above his bed, cupping his face. “How could I not look at you as a man when I already do?” You giggled happily as you closed the gap between the two of you, capturing his lips with yours. For a moment both of you forgot where you were, you just enjoyed being closer to each other, before a healer appeared and loudly scolded you for your behaviour, forcing you to part as though you were still children.

“Well, that’s certainly not what I expected,” he chuckled playfully. “A couple more of these and I will feel brand new,” he grinned.

“I guess you will have to wait for that otherwise the healers will kick me out,” you giggled in content.

“Not happening,” he shook his head as he grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him, attaching his lips to yours halfway, earning a shaky moan from you. Luckily this time the healers didn’t catch you and within a couple of hours you were helping Oliver getting back to his flat.

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[luxekook]

when fire meets frost | kth

as part of the christmas with bangtan: secret santa collab

❅ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

❅ genre: second chance romance, exes to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

❅ summary: just like a bad holiday song, you gave taehyung your heart last christmas. only in this scenario, he broke it eight months later. now you’re both back at that same damn holiday party where you first met one year ago and you’re just praying for you and your heart to leave in one piece.

❅ word count: 5.8k

❅ warnings: 18+, cursing, suggestive comments, drinking, DIY mistletoe, light violence, random ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ references, drunk tae (TM), break-up flashbacks, weird humor, hella tension, hella groveling, making out, smut [oral (m to f)], the fluffiest of fluff (borderline cheese...actually...full-on cheese)

❅ banner by: the almighty and powerful maggie @kimtaehyunq​ - who also is the collab host!

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 8:00PM

Taehyung is staring at you. Again. Though you're facing slightly away from him, you know that if you give even the slightest glance over, your suspicions will all but be confirmed. The heated gaze you feel skimming over your body continues as you take a much needed sip of your mulled wine and pray that you get out of his line of vision soon with your dignity still intact.

Seokjin, your best friend and current partner in conversation, notices your predicament and scoffs, “You really should just put that boy out of his misery, (y/n). Scrooge himself would be down to have a foursome with the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future if he was around all this pent-up sexual tension.”

Your red-painted lips curl in a surely unattractive manner that resembles something between a grimace and a grin. You’ve heard variations of this argument about a dozen times from just as many sources, but Seokjin’s might just be the most absurd.

“I don’t know how or why your brain went right to a ghost-fucking analogy, but I’ve long since given up trying to understand your thought processes.”

Seokjin’s chest puffs up at your words like they incite something he should feel proud of. You sigh and shake your head at him, feeling a mix of exasperation and endearment - a constant haze of comfort you feel around your best friend.

“I’m just saying,” Seokjin continues, completely undeterred by your attempts to divert the conversation onto him, “He’s hot. You’re hot. He’s still into you. You’re still into him. I don’t see the problem.”

“I never said–!” You cut yourself off. He’s baiting you. “You son of a nutcracker. You know full well what the problem is. I’ve told you more times than Yoongi has yelled at someone for getting too close to his precious sound system.

At your words, you both look over to your left where Yoongi is currently chewing out a sheepish Namjoon with a death-grip on his expensive ass speakers.

“And I’ve told you that your reasons are shaky at best, (y/n),” Seokjin sighs, placing his chin in his palm and leaning over to you. He continues with a conspiring whisper, “Just because you’re scared you’ll get hurt again doesn’t mean you should never put yourself back out there.”

“Oh yeah,” You scowl, “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve never been dumped by the boy you love because he ‘wants to explore other options’. And then have to keep being around said-boy because you’re in the same friend group. And then fast forward a few months to when that same boy shows up drunk at your doorstep asking for you to take him back because you’re ‘the only one for him’. Spoiler alert: that’s fucking bullshit. And then–”

Seokjin slaps a palm over your mouth, effectively cutting you off mid-rant. “Babe, you have to stop rehashing this. Taehyung clearly is still in love with you. He looks at you like he wants to fucking eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Besides, Tae hasn’t even hooked up with anyone since he asked for another chance.”

“That we know of,” You mumble darkly behind Seokjin’s palm - your words only a barely audible jumble of syllables.

“Are you accosting my date, Jin?” The voice of your co-worker and close friend Felix meets your ears as you shove Seokjin’s hand off of you. When you invited Felix to come to Jimin’s annual holiday party, you briefed him on the situation - like any good friend would. You needed him there as an extra buffer. While you love Seokjin, he definitely can get swept up into petty drama - namely baseless arguments with Jungkook.

As your closest work friend, Felix knows all about you and Taehyung, and therefore he agreed to be your “date” in exchange for your help in getting him a date with Alicia, the new accountant in your office. You’ve spent countless hours sitting next to each other as desk neighbors and coworkers. Felix is quiet, cute and respectful - not to mention his voice is to die for.

Felix’s hand settles on the middle of your back in completely friendly territory, but you can’t help but feel the eyes on you have ramped up in intensity. You wonder if Felix can feel his hand burning from the heat and almost think he does when Felix drops his hand a second later.

It’s one thing to make you uncomfortable. You’ve learned to stomach that. But it’s another thing to make your friends uncomfortable. And for that you turn and level a glare at that beautiful asshole, sitting at a nearby table with Jimin and still looking at you with those goddamn eyes.

Taehyung shamelessly stares back at you as Jimin prattles on about something in his ear before noticing Tae’s mind is elsewhere. Following his gaze to you, Jimin groans and shoves Taehyung’s shoulder before strutting away towards the kitchen. You watch as Jimin saunters by and roll your eyes when he winks at you when your eyes meet. That one has always been trouble.

When you turn back around, Taehyung is still staring at you. No, this time he’s staring at your body - namely, your ass. You ignore the burst of heat that runs through you and make a face somewhere between a scowl and a glare. He looks up at you without the least bit of remorse.

Your eyes narrow. Your ass isn’t even out! Your green ugly Christmas sweater adorned with real ornaments basically falls to your knees. But then again, Taehyung has always had a vivid imagination - and an even better memory. His mind is like a goddamn vault.

You tug your attention away from your ex and back to the current conversation. But your thoughts wander. You still feel that pull towards Taehyung - that same damn pull that’s been there since you first met him. And that scares the shit out of you.

Flashback: The First Meeting, Last Christmas

You’re perched on the arm of Namjoon’s black pleather sofa (“It doesn’t stain! Can you believe that?” “Namjoon, it’s ripped in seven places.”). Surveying the flurry of friends scattered throughout the cozy apartment, you only see a few people that you don’t know. But something feels different tonight, and you just can’t figure out why.

Did Namjoon rearrange his plants? Did Jimin part his hair differently? Did Hoseok change his outfit - again?  

“A-yo, (y/n)!” Seokjin yells over to you from clear across the room. You’re always baffled at how clueless that boy is to social cues. “Come meet Taehyung!” Your friend continues to yell, practically pinwheeling his arms to beckon you over to his side of the room. You can vaguely make out an unknown figure standing with their back to you, facing Seokjin in conversation.

You sigh. Might as well get this over with before Seokjin decides to start pretending to lasso you over to his side of the room. Or worse - get his actual lasso that he has for some unknown reason. A natural performer that boy is. Getting to your feet, you cross the room. Your heartbeat thuds in your chest and you rub a hand over your heart absentmindedly.

What is wrong with you? Meeting new people always brings nerves, but you never usually feel this out of sorts. You step into Seokjin’s outstretched arm and into the embrace of your best friend. And then you look up at the newcomer.

Hooded dark eyes. Curly black hair. Perfect pink lips. Jawline chiseled by the gods.

Your breath catches in your throat. Words buzz in the air around you but you can't distinguish one from the next. You’re pretty sure Seokjin is making some sort of joke because his sides start to shake and the beautiful stranger looks exasperatedly amused. Yet, his eyes never stray from yours.

His lips part like his breath is caught in his throat.

“Taehyung-ie, don’t be rude! Say hi!” Seokjin shoves Taehyung, jolting you both out of your little staring contest.

“Hi,” Taehyung repeats. Your stomach flips at the depth of his voice. “I’m Taehyung. Kim Taehyung. You can call me Tae. Or V. Or just Taehyung.”

Your smile widens at his ramblings and the rising color of his cheeks. “Hi, Tae,” You can't help but grin up at the adorable, beautiful boy. He really looks angelic under the kitchen lights. His halo of curls frames his face in such a way that makes you want to curl your finger around one and tug.

Vaguely, you can tell that Seokjin is shooting rapid looks between you and Taehyung, looking like some sort of bobblehead in 100mph winds. Suddenly, a Grinch-like grin takes over his face. “Why don’t you crazy kids get some more wine? I need to talk to Yoongi...” Seokjin slips away.

In hindsight, you should have immediately been tipped off that Seokjin was up to no good. Seokjin seeking out Yoongi? Nothing good ever comes from that.

And you were right. Not twenty minutes later, you and Taehyung are both stuttering messes underneath a hastily tapped up branch of mistletoe - at least that’s what Seokjin’s calling it. You think it looks like a clump of grass with a grape thrown in there.

Just as you start to tell Taehyung that he doesn’t have to feel pressured by your lame friends, he cups your face in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.

Fucking magic.

There aren’t fireworks or sparks. There’s a whole blazing inferno between the two of you.

Your hands slide up his back, tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. Taehyung lets out a small gasp as your fingers tug on his locks, and you slowly slide your tongue across his lower lip.

“Uh, okay… Hello? Hey, guys!”

Finally, Yoongi slams together two pans from the kitchen, jolting you both away from each other in fright.

“Break that shit up,” Yoongi shoots a glare at a grinning Seokjin. “I did not sign up for that level of PDA, Jin.”

“I can’t predict love, Yoongi-ah. I can only bring lovers together,” Jin sighs, clasping his hands over his heart dramatically. Yoongi pinches Seokjin in the side, immediately instigating a fight.

Taehyung reclaims your attention, shyly intertwining his pinky with yours. In the midst of all the chaos around you, he just looks at you like you are the only thing that matters.

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 9:02PM

“I don’t know how you survive when he looks at you like that. I’m practically melting just being in proximity of the two of you.”

Your friend Ciana’s comment pulls your attention away from your demon of an ex as he strides by, leveling you with a calculated smolder.

It’s a look that says he’s going to fuck you up in the best way - the way that used to leave you weak in the knees and covered in hickies. Taehyung’s fuck me eyes are your kryptonite. He knows it. You know it. The whole party knows it. Hence, it makes sense how he’s shamelessly using them any fucking chance he can just to mess with you.

It’s practically a fulltime job pretending it doesn't affect you. And it's a job you are failing at miserably.

You sigh and take a big sip of your drink. “Oh, I'm not surviving,” You confess, “This is just a hologram image of me. I’m practically clear across the country by now.”

Ciana laughs, “Girl, I don't blame you, but I have to say… He looks like he would follow you anywhere.”

You scoff. There was a time where you would wholeheartedly agree. Since your first meeting, Tae made you feel like you were the center of his universe.

After talking all night at Seokjin’s party, you exchanged numbers and within a few days Tae asked you out.

Your first date was to an art gallery. The two of you spent hours there, studying art and exchanging soft murmured interpretations. You would often catch Taehyung staring at you instead of at the paintings decorating the walls, and it made you feel all warm and fuzzy.

The dates continued until Taehyung managed to gather up the courage to ask you to be exclusive - his words, not yours. You hadn’t believed that he could ever have doubted your answer. But in hindsight, you probably should have doubted him.

Things were great for a while. No - they were better than great. They were the best eight months of your fucking life. Until they weren’t.

“Why did y’all break up again?” Ciana asks, pulling your attention to her once more.

You let a bitter laugh escape. “You’ll have to ask him that.”

Flashback: The Break-Up, August

“I want to see other people.”

The words strike you like a serrated blade. The plate you’re washing falls into the sink with a clatter. Your heart stills in your chest.

“What?” For a second you believe that you must have misheard him. Only he crushes that hope into dust within seconds.

“I said I want to see other people.” Taehyung repeats, a bit louder.

“You mean like taking a break?” You refuse to turn around and face him. You refuse to believe that your relationship is crumbling down. Your mind tries to grasp at straws. “Or trying ethical non-monogamy?”

“No, (y/n),” Taehyung sighs, “I mean that I want to break up.”

“But why? I don’t understand.” The tears begin to sting your eyes as you blink rapidly, trying to make sense of the blindside that Taehyung just threw at you. “What did I do? How can I fix this?”

“You can’t, okay?” The exasperation in his voice is palpable. “I’m bored here. I feel tied down. We’re both so young... How can we know we’re right for each other when there’s so many other people out there?”

“Where the hell is this coming from?” You seethe, finally whirling to face him. Taehyung flinches when he sees your tearstained face but you persevere and continue, “I bore you? That’s sure not what it seemed like two days ago when you were fucking me against the wall of that club bathroom.”

“Things change,” Taehyung scowls, “I need to explore other options, (y/n), and I think you should, too.”

Your heart is breaking, a fissure splitting it right down the middle. “You want to explore other options,” You repeat, in a deadpan voice. “Do you already have someone in mind?”

The split second pause Taehyung takes is all you need to know the answer to that.

“Get out.”

“(Y/n), it wasn’t the only reason!” Taehyung scrambles to explain. “We haven’t even done anything yet!”

“Oh, you’re a ‘we’ already? Fuck you, Kim Taehyung.”

“No! That’s not what I meant!”

“Well, I hope you’re happy with them. I hope they don’t bore you or tie you down. I hope you’re right for each other. I hope youre fucking happy with yourself and your decision.”

“Can’t we still be friends?”

You don’t deem that question worthy enough of an answer and slam your front door in the face of the person who ten minutes ago had been the love of your life.

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 10:21PM

The amount of love in the room is making your stomach turn. You watch as your coupled up friends exchange presents and kisses. You’re so happy for each and every one of them, don’t get you wrong. You just can’t help but feel increasingly alone with each passing minute.

Felix notices the dip in your mood and nudges you, “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah,” You snuggle deeper into his side. Thank god for Felix. “Thanks for coming with me to this shindig. It would have been hard to be alone this year.”

“No worries, babe. Besides, how else am I gonna get Alicia to go out with me?”

You laugh at Felix’s words. The boy was oblivious to the fact that Alicia had already approached you to ask if he was single. Sometimes you enjoy your diabolical mind. “Oh, she’ll definitely go out with you,” You reply, pinching his cheek, “Who could resist this face?”

“You did. Three years ago,” Felix whines, shoving your hand away from him playfully.

“Sadly you’re not my type, pretty boy,” You sigh. It truly was sad. Felix is the nicest human you know - besides Seokjin. The fact that you're not interested just reinforces the idea that you have terrible taste in men.

“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know who you could possibly be referring to,” You sniff, turning away.

“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe the guy that hasn’t stopped circling you like a fucking shark in water since we got here?”

“He has not,” You retort, rolling your eyes.

“A-ha! So you do know exactly who I’m referring to, you little liar!”

“Goddamnit,” You laugh. “I need another drink to put up with you. You want a refill?” You gesture towards his cup.

“Nah, I’m good,” Felix shakes his head. You nod and head over to the kitchen, thankfully seeing no sign of ‘Shark Boy’.

But you spoke too soon, because just as you’re reaching up for a new mug you feel him.

“Is that little boy out there your boyfriend? I didn’t think you were dating anyone,” A rough voice growls from entirely too close to your ear.

You turn your head and shoot your best side-eye at the asshole who’s heated stare is aimed straight down at you. You internally curse at the unfortunate fact that Kim Taehyung somehow still can manage to look gorgeous in a bright red sweater with a whole-ass Santa beard stitched to its collar. You have never hated him more given that you look like a hot mess of a Christmas tree that no one wants to climb.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business, Kim,” You retort, turning around again and grabbing a glass from the cabinet. You can feel his warmth surrounding you as he grabs the mug for you instead, his body pushed up against yours.

“Move,” You order, your voice shaking slightly. But instead of listening, Tae grabs your hips and turns you around, caging you in between his arms.

“See, you’re wrong, (y/n),” His eyes dart from your own to your lips, “Everything that concerns you is my business. It has since the moment I met you, and it hasn’t stopped since.”

The incredulous snort escapes you before you can attempt to rein it in, “Taehyung, you broke up with me! I’m pretty sure that means you consider me old news and - above all - none of your fucking business.”

“And I told you I made a mistake!” Taehyung leans closer, his jaw ticking.

“You were drunk!” You stab a finger into his admittedly toned chest that you can feel even through that abominable Santa beard, “And it took you two fucking months to say that, only to never bring it up again. So excuse me if I find your argument lacking.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung curses softly, running a hand through his mess of curls, “I miss that smart mouth.”

“Yeah?” Your response flies out too fast for your brain to check your words, “Well I miss being enough for you.”

Taehyung looks stricken. “Baby…” He reaches for you but you duck past him and beeline straight for Jimin’s bathroom. Locking yourself inside, you slide to the floor and contemplate your chances of sneaking out the tiny bathroom window just like you did that night some months ago.

Flashback: A Streetcar Named WTF, October

A harsh banging sound jolts you awake. “What the fuck,” You mumble, fumbling around blindly trying to find your phone amidst the blankets and pillows surrounding you.

Finally, your hand locates the small metal device and you switch your screen on. Your eyes immediately shut at the brightness and you muster up the will to peek at the time.

3:12AM.

Who the hell dares to pound on your door at this hour? What is this - A Streetcar Named Desire? Well, slap your ass and call you Blanche because this asshole is about to feel your wrath.

Stomping over to your door, you swing it open and say, “There’s no Stella here, Stanley. Fuck off.”

While you don’t find a drunk Marlon Brando on your doorstep, you do find a drunk Taehyung.

“Who the fuck’s Stanley?” Tae glares, trying to cross his arms but failing somehow.

“Good lord, Taehyung,” You groan, grabbing his arm and dragging him inside your apartment, “You smell like a whole goddamn brewery. How did you even end up here?”

“Walked,” He says proudly while smiling down at your hand on his arm like an idiot. “Who’s Stamplee? I mean, Stangfree.”

You pinch your nose with your free hand. This boy… Ignoring his idiocy completely, you question, “You walked?” You push him down onto your couch and head into your kitchen to grab him some water.

“Yup! All by myself! Are you proud of me? Sandflea could never!”

You jump. Somehow Tae still managed to sneak up behind you while drunk out of his mind.

“Kim Taehyung, sit your drunk ass down.” You jab a finger in the direction of the couch he just vacated.

“But you’re so far away when I sit all the way over there, baby,” He pouts, giving you puppy dog eyes. “And I’m not drunk!”

You don’t dignify his words with a response. Handing the glass of water to the problem currently sprawled out on your couch, you sigh. What are you going to do with him? He can’t stay here… But he’s in no shape to walk back to wherever the fuck he came from.

“Tell me, Kim, why did you think that walking to my apartment of all places was a good idea? I could have moved!” Disdain drips from every syllable, “Is anything going on in that brain of yours? If so, it’s clearly not making any sense.”

“I beg to differ,” Taehyung has the audacity to grin up at you as he continues, “My brain makes perfect sense, baby. You plus me equals three.” His eyebrows wiggle up and down as he swings his hands out, showering you with the glass of water you just handed him.

“Maybe I’ll call you a math tutor along with your Uber,” You mumble as you fight the urge to laugh at the mess of a boy staring up at you from your couch. Grabbing a kitchen towel, you dab the water off of you as best you can. Glancing back down at Tae, you notice his attention has fallen to your chest, where the water he practically threw at you has plastered your tanktop to your skin.

“Hey, eyes up here,” You slap his arm with the damp towel, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“One more minute,” He says, absentmindedly rubbing his arm.

His attention gives you butterflies for a split second before you lock that shit down. You aren’t a fool; you’re fully aware that Taehyung’s the farthest thing from available, but he’s still hot as hell with his muscular stature, his wicked brown eyes, and his full pink lips. And that deep voice… it has shamefully been the fuel of your fantasies for the past few weeks. But that is neither here nor there.

So while his undivided attention always did make you feel fucking incredible, now he’s just a drunk boy who’s acting like he’s never seen nipples before.

“I’m calling you an Uber, okay?” You finally say, grabbing your phone and pulling up the app.

“Can’t I stay here?” Taehyung pouts, “Or will Surley get mad?”

“His name is Stanley,” You automatically reply and then curse as Taehyung lurches to his feet.

“I knew it! Where is he? Where is my replacement? I challenge him to a duel!”

“A duel?” You can’t help but laugh, “On what grounds?”

“For your hand, of course!” Taehyung rapidly glances around your apartment before his eyes land on the broom tucked in the corner of your kitchen. “There’s my sword!”

Before he can take a step towards his ‘sword’, you grab his arm and push him back down onto your couch.

“Wow, you’re strong!” Tae stares up at you adoringly, “And so-o cute. Wanna date?”

“You’re drunk, Tae. Don’t say things like that.” God, he’s going to give you a complex. You had just started getting over him and now he does this? Why is life deadset on fucking you over?

“But I do wanna date you!” Taehyung insists, “Don’t you miss me? Miss us? I still love you. I never stopped.”

“Tae, please stop.”

“I made a mistake, baby, and I wanna fix it. Can you give me a chance? Please?” His brown eyes blink up at you slowly. His lids practically fight to stay open as his words slur together.

The boy is falling asleep. Sighing, you close the Uber app. Looks like you’re housing your ex for the evening.

“I wanna marry you,” He mumbles, “Bought the ring last week. If you can just love me again I’ll be the luckiest…” His words get more and more inaudible. Mumbles about Stanley and revenge and kisses and altars filter through as you place a blanket over his form.

“Goodnight, Tae.” You can’t resist brushing your fingers through his hair. Your heart stutters as he practically leans into your touch like a cat, smiling contentedly.

“We’ll see if you remember this in the morning,” You mutter, setting another glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen on the coffee table for him when he wakes up.

After making sure Taehyung’s on his side with a bucket for potential incidents, you head back to bed.

When you wake up, he’s nowhere to be found.

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 10:23PM

“(y/n)... baby, please let me in.”

The underlying meaning of those six words is not lost on you. Could you let him in again? Taehyung once held your heart and then he basically smashed it on concrete and backed over it with his car - twice.

“Go away.” Your words sound weak even to your own ears.

“No, I need to talk to you… Please.” His voice breaks on the last word and you cave. Standing you unlock the door and back up. You could have a logical and reasonable discussion with Tae and get some closure, leaving all feelings out of it. Maybe...

“Two minutes,” You declare, “Nothing more.”

“But–”

You cut him off, “1:55…” You tap your foot and smile as Taehyung shoots you a look.

“Fine,” He rubs the back of his neck, peeking up at you under his lashes. “I got scared, okay?”

Your disbelief must show all over your face because he continues.

“Yeah, I was scared - fucking terrified of how much I feel for you. How in love with you I am. How can it be that easy to find your soulmate? It didn’t make any sense to me. And then Pia began to show an interest in me and I convinced myself it was a good idea to distance myself from you. To see other people. To try to make sense of my feelings.”

You hold up a hand. “So, you’re saying that you broke up with me because you were ‘too in love with me?’ What the fuck kind of selfish bullshit is that, Taehyung? You broke my fucking heart for someone you didn’t even like because you were scared I was your soulmate? Don’t you see how that just makes me feel like shit?”

Taehyung sinks to his knees. “(Y/n), baby, please. I am so sorry. I fucked up in the worst, most selfish way possible. It kills me that I broke your heart.”

“Ugh, get up, you drama king.” You pull him to his feet, continuing, “Why did you leave after that night? You said all those things when you were drunk and then just left.”

“Yeah, I kind of don’t remember what I said or how I even ended up at your place.” A blush takes over his face, “It’s so embarrassing you had to see me like that and I kind of just wanted to forget it happened. And I really hoped that you forgot it did, too. I didn’t expect you to just keep acting like you forgot my existence altogether.”

“What does that mean? I see you all the time, Tae! We’re in the same friend group for god’s sakes. We’re around each other all the time… Maybe even too much.” You mumble the last few words, but he catches them.

“Too much? You avoid me at all costs! You don’t smile at me anymore. You don’t even look at me most times! It kills me that all I get from you now is ice, when I know you have so much fire.”

His words confuse you. So he does want you back? Your friends weren’t exaggerating? A small burst of hope swells inside you, but the memory of the break-up outweighs it. “You don’t even know me though, Taehyung. Not anymore.”

“No. You’re wrong,” Taehyung leans closer to you, and you take a step back. Your back bumps up against the sink, your plastic ornaments adorning your sweater clinking awkwardly.

Tae brushes a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes begging you to listen, “I do know you. I know that you still take your coffee black with caramel. I know that you started doing yoga but are too proud to admit you hate it. I know that you came to my art show last month but left before I could talk to you alone. I know that you–”

“Stop,” Your voice trembles, “Please, I can’t. Taehyung, you hurt me so fucking much. Don’t you get that? I just started feeling whole again. So if I let you back in and you hurt me, I might shatter completely.”

His hands cup your face gently, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I won’t ever hurt you again, baby. Please give me one more chance. That’s all I need. I want to keep you forever, (y/n)... I bought you a ring, did I tell you that when I was drunk? I think I did. I still have it. It’s yours - just like my heart.”

“God, you’re still so fucking cheesy,” You can’t hold back your smile even though more tears are falling down your cheeks.

And then his lips are on yours.

Taehyung kisses you like you're the most precious thing in the universe. Like you might break in the palm of his hand if he’s not careful enough. And maybe you will. But for right now, you melt into him.

He tastes like home.

Taehyung’s touch is tentative at first. His hands slide into your hair, tugging you even closer. You feel like you might burst, feeling so many emotions. Love. Fear. Confusion. Hope. You hook your leg around him, wanting him pressed against you everywhere.

Taehyung groans and one of his hands drops down to grab your thigh, wrapping it more securely around his waist. “Jump, baby,” He mumbles into your lips, and you listen automatically.

He perches you on the edge of the sink, kisses you deeply, and then sinks back down to his knees.

“Tae–” You protest, as he runs his hands slowly up your calves.

“I haven’t tasted you in so long, baby,” His dark eyes burn into yours, “Please don’t let me go another minute without you on my tongue.”

Fuck. Well, you can’t argue with that. When Tae sees you open your legs a bit more, he grins up at you and places a quick kiss on the inside of your knee.

His touch becomes more frantic as he moves up, his mouth placing hot kisses higher and higher.

When he sees the lacy red panties you have on, he snaps, lunging forward and hitching your thigh over his shoulder. Pushing your underwear to the side, his hot mouth is on you, closing over your clit without warning. You gasp as he sucks your bud into his mouth, lapping at it with his tongue.

Your hand winds its way into his curls, pushing him harder against you. He moans into your pussy. “So fucking wet for me, baby. God, I love you.”

Taehyung places a soft kiss on your inner thigh before his tongue returns to lick at your pussy, up and down. His tongue sinks into you, making your hips buck against his face. His hand shoots up to steady you as his tongue continues to flick in and out of you.

The sight of the boy you never stopped loving tongue deep in your pussy almost pushes you over the edge already. “Ta-ae,” You moan, hand tugging at his hair, “Harder, baby, please.”

Your words have their desired effect as he replaces his tongue with two of his fingers and places his mouth back on your clit. You moan as his fingers curl inside you, brushing your walls.

The first few strokes of his fingers are slow. Too slow for your liking, “Taehyung, fuck me with your fingers.”

A rumble moves up his chest as he obeys, pushing another finger deep inside of you. “Fuck, baby,” He curses and begins to thrust his fingers in and out of your pussy, “You feel even better than I remember, so goddamn wet.”

His mouth finally returns to your clit, his tongue flicking over it every so often. You’re hurtling towards your orgasm as his long fingers continue to pound into you and his mouth continues to lick at your pussy.

You feel the heat building up and you come with a gasp. Taehyung continues to fuck you with his fingers and his mouth, carrying you through your orgasm until you slump back against the mirror above the sink.

Taehyung grins up at you, licking up everything you gave him. Finally, you gently push him off you. Still licking his fingers clean, Taehyung’s eyes sparkle up at you, “Well? Wanna get married?”

“Oh my god,” You burst out laughing, hopping off the sink onto shaky legs. “Why don’t you start by wooing me? We’ll go from there.”

“Challenge accepted.”

You blink.

Taehyung smiles. His wild dark curls are sticking up in random places - courtesy of your hands. His eyes are full of their usual sinful promises, but this time they also hold excitement and a tiny spark of hope. “Prepare to be wooed, wifey.”

“Fuck off,” You laugh, quickly fixing your hair in the mirror before smoothing down your sweater dress.

Nodding at your semi-acceptable reflection, you swing the door open to reveal just about every person from the party collectively gathered just outside.

“I knew it!” Seokjin shrieks. “Where’s my mistletoe?”

“My poor bathroom!” Jimin cries, “Defiled! Desecrated!”

“Why am I friends with you all?” Yoongi asks no one in particular.

“Well,” Tae whispers in your ear, “At least we won’t have to tell them, right?”

You smile despite the embarrassing situation and nod. This Christmas might just be your best yet.

a/n: sorry that this is late and severely unedited LOL plz be kind, this is my first fic back and YA GIRL IS RUSTY

© luxekook do not repost, edit or translate as protected under this license

[sdv-mostly-shane]

not sure if this has been asked or written before, but what a about a 'sort of cryptid like farmer' and shane? a farmer that's just a little bit more on the non human side kinda thing, if thats alright

A special Spooktember treat for you guys- I hope you enjoy. Been saving this one until it was appropriately close enough to spooky season. Also- TIL that goblincore is a quite delightful aesthetic-read til the end to get the full ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:* vibes *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ they’re feral AND charming.

Just Goblin Things

Summary: There’s something sinister in Cindersnap Forest, and Shane is the one to come face to face with the creature. What he finds is a more than just a little magical, and he can’t wait to discover more.

Trigger warning : very brief, vague insinuations of alcohol; general spookyness.

“Seb, how many more until we can go back to my house?’

“Just a minute, Sam. I can hear one croaking just over there…“

“Yoba, what was that!-look, there in the bush!” A flash of green had caught Abigails eye, followed by a loud scrambling noise. She pushed herself off the ground, using Sam’s shoulder as a boost, and leaped toward the sound, searching for its maker.

“What kind of frog was that?”

“I didn’t even see anything. Probably just some raccoon or something.” They watched Abby crawl around a small thicket of bushes, peeking in between branches as she went. “Leave it alone, Abby, you don’t want to catch rabies.”

“Raccoons don’t have green eyes, Seb,” she said, as she perked her head up to listen to a faint crinkling of leaves. “Listen, do you hear that? It almost sounds like.. hissing?”

“What, like a snake?”

“No, like a-AH!” Abby shrieked, and fell back. The two boys ran towards her. “No, get back, it might see you!” She was referencing the massive pair of green speckled eyes that were now accompanied with a gnarly, toothy grimace emerging from the bush. From it, came an ungodly snarling and hissing.

“Alright, time to go,” Seb yanked the two teenagers away from the creature, and they started to run. Once they had made it inside Sam’s house, the trio slammed his bedroom door and jumped on the bed. They sat for a moment in silence, listening to each other’s panting breath. Abby began to say something, but Sebastian interrupted, “we’re not gonna talk about it. Just don’t-nothing happened. We didn’t see anything. Got it?” Abby huffed in frustration, and protested with him, arguing that they needed to get back out there and figure it out. All Sam could do was stare at his floor, stunned at what had just happened.

The next day, Sam went to start his shift at the Joja Mart on edge from the night before. Shane was working the freezer when he spotted him-he had picked up a packaged of individually sealed pancakes seven minutes ago and was still staring at it, unmoving. “Uh, you alright, bud?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it…” His voice seemed far away, but he managed to finally move, making to put away the product. He turned to him, “Shane, you live in Cindersnap Forest. Have you ever seen anything… weird… there?”

“You mean besides Mayor Lewis sneaking out the back window and crawling around the house, thinking I can’t see him?”

“What?”

“No, never seen anything.”

“Well we did, Abby, Seb, and I, last night.”

“And?”

“Well, nothing really actually happened-it just scared us, really. Made a really ugly sound and showed it’s teeth to us. It must have just been some animal… but the thing is… gah, I can’t even say it.”

Shane tossed a bag of multipurpose detergent at him, demanding, “C’mon, say it.”

“Ouch, Yoba, alright. I didn’t tell the others, but when we were running away, I looked back and.. and well, I saw it run away and it was on two legs like a person.”

“Hah, okay you got me. There’s nothing in that forest, kid, don’t think about it too much.” Shane slapped the back of Sam’s shoulder, bidding him to just do his work, and went about finishing the stocking. He’d look over, occasionally, to see the golden-haired teen zoned into space again, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to really care at that point; he just needed to get through his shift.

______________________________________________

Shane looked at his phone-11:26 PM. He’d gone out, not able to sleep, and forced himself to take a cold walk through the woods to avoid the saloon. Shivering, not just from the cold, he made his way over to the edge of the lake. He enjoyed watching the little sparkling fish swim, their silver scales glisten underneath the shallow water… Swishing and splashing and crashing-crashing? He flipped his body around to see the source of the crash-in front of the big tree, in a disheveled pile, sat the farmer. They were brushing the leaves out of their hair and dusting off their knees.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh! Goodness, Shane, you scared me.”

“You’re the one who fell out of the tree.”

The farmer finger-gunned, “You got me there,” and stood up, gathering the belongings that tumbled from their satchel.

Shane watched them, and smirked at seeing them covered in Earth matter-leaves, moss, dirt-it all seemed to have managed to stick to them as they tumbled down the tree. “You’re covered in dirt.”

“Oh, yeah I am.” The farmer brushed off their apron and body. Dirt, rocks, and leaves fell from their arms, but the moss stayed firmly attached.

Now with a clear view, Shane could see that their skin wasn’t quite right. It looked jaundiced from their shoulders down, where the color faded to a sickly vibrant green down to their finger tips. The moss had attached itself to their elbows and seemed to grow down to their fingertips. As the farmer moved about, their arms coming in and out of scattered streaks of moonlight, he could almost see it blinking at him. Was it growing on their arm? He blinked trying to make sense of it, “No, no I meant your arms have-“

“Oh, Hey Franklin.”

Shane’s jaw hung open on his words. Emerging from the Farmers.. arm moss?.. emerged a little frog. It opened and closed its mouth a few times before letting out a tiny ‘ribbit’.

“Yeah, I found this little guy a few weeks ago and he just didn’t want to leave. He likes to come with me on our nightly mushroom hunts.” Franklin went cross eyed as he focus on a little bug flittering past before catching it with a satisfying crunch. “Oh, that was a good one, Frankie.”

“Okay I’m gonna go now,” Shane regained control of his jaw, resolutely shoved his hands in his pockets, and started to turn away.

“Wait! You’re not gonna tell anyone my secret are you?”

“Tell them what, that you keep a secret frog hidden somewhere in your arm?”

“No, everyone should know about Franklin, he’s precious. I meant-you know what, can I just show you?” The farmer reached out their hand in an offer for Shane to grab.

He hesitated-he only barely knew the farmer, having really only seen them run past him at full speed with a pick axe held high above their head-but he was in desperate need of a distraction tonight.

The farmer, seeing his reservation, offered up, “come sit down with me, I’ll make us some tea.”

“I don’t drink tea.”

“Well I’ll tell you some of my other secrets?”

He was in too deep now, his curiosity overtaking his tentativeness, “Alright.” He accepted their hand; his fingertips flexed atop their hand, cushioned by the lush, damp covering of green.

Holding his hand, they led him to their crash-landing zone under the tree, where they sat down. As the farmer sat, legs tucked into each other, Shane thought he saw their body hesitate mid-air for half a second. He then was sure that he saw a little fairy ring of mushrooms pop out of the ground with a glimmering puff of orange dust as the farmers body finally made contact with the ground.

“Please, sit.” Shane pretended to not be concerned, but the farmer smiled to themselves as they spotted him cautiously glancing down to the ground as he gingerly lowered himself to sit. Satisfied, the farmer opened up their satchel and pulled out their trinkets for tea-two wooden cups, a shiny silver teapot with a mismatched spoon, and a box of vials and jars. Opening, smelling, taking, and closing the little jars, they began to make the tea. The beautiful earthy colors of the roots, grasses, and leaves peeled out over the edge of the cups. Craning their body, they reached over to the other circle of mushrooms where they crashed, and plucked a purple one.

As they filled the teacups, Shane watched in horror as the they grasped a moth straight out of the air, ripped a wing off, and shredded it into the two cups. He hoped to Yoba the ‘tea’ was done, but they pulled out one final vial. Swallowing, he asked, “Who’s hair is that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” The farmer pick up the teapot, cradling it in their palms. As the silver started to glow red hot, the farmers hair flew up, standing straight when the teapot began to steam. They poured the hot water into the cups.

“Okay, I get it, I know what this is.”

“What is?”

“I just had a few too many today, and I’m actually just super hammered right now and it’s making me see things. I’m gonna go to bed, now”

“But I didn’t see you at the saloon today?”

“Well, no, but if I think about it too much I’m gonna freak out a little bit,” he pushed his hands off to stand, “so I’m just gonna say that this isn’t real and-“

The farmer reached out their hand to him once more. He stood, frozen, as he watched twigs emerge from their fingertips, growing into branches, followed by leaves, and finishing with a delicate flower unfurling inches away from where he stood.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Take it.”

“Take it? But it’s.. attached.”

“Just take it,” the farmer smiled.

He picked it, cupping it in his palms, and brought it to his chest. He watched in awe as the flower petals began to sway, and tiny white fairies sprouted from the pollen. Transfixed, he stood holding his breath as the hazy creatures danced around the petals.

While he watched, eyes big and lit up, the farmer quietly pulled out from their satchel a little carved wooden chair. While Franklin hopped down and plopped onto the chair, the farmer plucked another tiny mushroom, removing the stalk, and tipped a mini-portion of tea from their cup into the cap. They handed it to Franklin who busied himself with dunking his head in and out of the tea and screaming into it.

Shane, remembering his need to breathe, finally gasped and attempted to sputter something intelligible out, but just as he thought of a semi-formed sentence, the dancing fairies suddenly burst into a frenzy of colorful fire. They continued their elaborate dance until the last of them fizzled out, and there was nothing left of the dancing flower except misty smoke and white ash.

“You can keep that-here, pour it into here,” they handed an empty vial to Shane, “sprinkle it on your doorstep and it’ll protect you and your loved ones.”

He did as he was told, not even questioning it at this point-he wanted to know more and how and why and what. Finished, he sat back down, facing the farmer, watching them lift the teacup to their lips. “So uh, does the tree thing happen a lot, or just at night, because I’ve seen you during the day and it doesn’t look like that.”

“No, you’re right, see the thing is, it’s when I- HHREEEEEEEEEK!”

Shane tumbled back in shock, catching himself with his elbows and hands. The farmer had let out an awful screech, showing their (formerly enchanting smile) now fanged row of gnarly teeth. In an instant, their eyes grew and melted into dinner plate-sized puddles of green. Shane yanked his head to match the direction of the farmers leer, where he saw a scruffy-looking opossum attempting to sneak their grubby hands around Franklin. The caught-and foiled-thief returned the farmers screech with a feral ‘hiss’ of its own, before it clambered back into dark bushes.

As quickly as the transformation happened, the farmer returned to normal just the same, meeting Shane’s stunned eyes with their own-now regular sized-smiling eyes. “Can’t be letting Franklin become someone’s snack, now can we?” They laughed and smiled to themselves, giving Franklin a little finger pat.

He was stunned, again. He blinked his way around the farmers face and body, searching for something that would make sense of his feelings. Was it repulsion? Fascination? Perhaps even a little attraction? The farmers little twinkling laugh would normally be very charming to him, but the circumstances of it were overwhelmingly frightening… if not still partially alluring. He settled his searching to focus on their smile-they offered it up so freely to him.

The farmer had waited for him to get settled back into a relaxed position before they continued, “Now what was it you were asking me, dear?”

“I was asking about your arms, that they normally aren’t literal trees,” he stoped, “dear?”

“Well, yeah. We’re friends now, aren’t we? Would you prefer me to call you something else?”

“… no, that’s fine.”

They sat together for a few moments in silence while the farmer drank their tea, and Shane gathered the courage to at least sip the leafy moth water. (It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad. He swished his tongue around his mouth to feel for any fuzzy winged remains, but couldn’t find any. It was smooth, and still hot. While he pondered, Franklin made a few flighty hops over to where his foot was resting, and jumped up onto his sneaker-he was trying to bite the laced up shoestrings.

He let out a little laugh-what a strange little animal. He looked up at the farmer and thought ‘what a strange little.. goblin.’ He let himself stare a bit-they didn’t seem to mind. They had taken off their hat by now, and revealed a pair of little pronged antlers that were hidden underneath. They were encrusted with clusters of crystals, which glittered with every turn and tilt of the farmers head. He continued to drink his tea, getting more accustomed to it with each sip, and watched the scattered moonlight refract off the crystals onto the ground. There, where the prismatic light met earth, a misting of teeny white flowers sprouted and bloomed. Shane had always been appreciative of the wonders of nature, but he had never seen it this beautiful. The farmer seemed connected to the earth, each breathing life into the other. It was humbling. And it-they-were beautiful.

The farmer finally caught his eye, and looked down, now a bit embarrassed. They didn’t mind the scrutiny-it wasn’t out of judgement, they knew, just curiosity. Truth be told, the feeling was more of self consciousness than anything. It was always daunting to show anyone their true selves, but to Shane? His gaze was so honest and searching that it was intimidating. Still feeling his eyes on them, the farmer briefly looked up through their lashes to give him a shy smile, and then turned their attention to the lake.

Shane broke the silence, “Any other goblins in their you wanna tell me about,” he motioned to the lake.

“Nah, that lake is occupied already.”

“Ah, I was just playing. Of course, it’s occupied with fish.”

The farmer was silent

He turned to them, only slightly panicky, “With fish right?”

“Mmhmm yeah fish, lots of fish.” They pursed their lips tight and took a nervous sip of their already empty tea.

Shane squinted to the water, studying it, and caught a glimpse of some bubbles rupturing on the distant surface. He scooted closer to the farmer.

With the shoulders pressed up against each other, the farmer reassured him, “Don’t worry, I got you,” and took hold of his hand.

Shane eased his body deeper against their shoulder with a sigh. He took a peek at the farmer’s face just in time to see an attractive blush warm their cheeks. He smiled, and rubbed his thumb over the tops of their knuckles. They sat together, watching the lake, while the moon rose higher in the sky.

“Did you call me a goblin?” The farmer broke the trance.

Shane let out a hearty laugh, “What other kind of magical creature sneaks around in the dark and scares neighborhood children?”

The farmer returned the laugh, and finger gunned once more, “you know what, you got me there again, Shane.” The pair filled the foggy air with the sound of their laughter, pushing their bodies still even closer together.

“If you don’t want your cover blown, you should probably stop doing that, you know, screeching at teenagers.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” the farmer said with a small growl and a wink.

It was Shane’s turn to blush, now. He looked down at their hands, still cupped together, and smiled. “What other magic secrets do you have?”

“ ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:* Let me show you.*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ “

[halfagonyandhope]

when the skies catch fire │ch. 16

first chapter (x); previous chapter (x)

A fortnight later, Satine and Obi-Wan venture into the foothills below the mountains in search of soil samples in anticipation of the arrival of the botanist who Bail has recruited, likely after the monsoon season. As the afternoon rains make travel impossible, they keep a close eye on the morning sun as they pass through the waist-high lavender grasses.

By mid-morning, they stop to rest, climbing on top of a large boulder. Obi-Wan ascends first, then he offers his hand to Satine to pull her up beside him.

He prattles on about terraces and soil acidity as they sit and look out across the fields, drawing on his experience in the AgriCorps before he was chosen as a padawan. Satine smiles at the sound of his voice and rests her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes.

It feels like a second later when he murmurs, “Satine, we need to head to higher ground.”

Her eyes flash open. She’s curled up against Obi-Wan’s side, still atop the boulder, but the sun has disappeared behind clouds that she swore were not there a minute ago.

He smiles at her. “I let you sleep,” he explains. “You’ve seemed tired lately.”

That, she thinks, is being kind. She’s exhausted, so much so that she cannot try to hide it from him. In fairness, she tells herself, she has been dealing with a fair amount, from the attempt on her life to her newfound refugee status, and from lessons from Obi-Wan to the Force visions that now haunt her dreams nightly.

Satine scrubs a hand over her face. “I apologize,” she says, sitting up. Obi-Wan pulls her to her feet.

“I do not accept the apology - on the grounds that none is necessary,” he says, helping her down the boulder. They set off for the entrance to the Temple, Obi-Wan carrying the samples in his pack. Satine smiles at his words, but she runs a hand through her hair, trying to tame it. Obi-Wan shoots a glance at her. “Are you sure you’re alright, my dear?”

There’s nothing to do but tell him.

“Last night’s vision was…not pleasant,” she eventually admits.

“How so?” says Obi-Wan, falling into step beside her.

“I saw only flashes,” says Satine. “I have no way of knowing anything about the context.”

He nods, understanding from her caveats that the vision must be worrying her a great deal. “Please tell me.”

Satine stops. “You were unconscious, burn marks down the entirety of one side of your body.” She takes a breath as he freezes and turns to her. “The next flash was of you in a bacta tank, thrashing about so intensely that some of the bacta spilled over the sides.” He had clearly been in agony, but she leaves that part out. Satine gestures to Obi-Wan’s head. “Your hair was longer, and perhaps also more gray - I can’t say for sure; it was difficult to see.”

Obi-Wan folds his arms across his chest. A beat later, he moves a hand to his beard reflexively, as he often does when pondering a conundrum.

“All but one of your visions so far seem to depict scenes from what has not yet taken place,” he says, deep in thought. “Is it possible that the vision of the crèche you saw in the Temple was not from the past?”

Lightning flashes overhead, but Satine barely registers this.

She’s more concentrated on the wave of realization crashing through her.

“Yes,” she breathes as the thunder catches up to them. And suddenly she’s not tired any longer; suddenly she’s terrified.

Because now she knows where she’s seen the wise eyes of the young girl in the vision.

They’re looking back at her.

Satine reaches out to steady herself, hand grasping at air until Obi-Wan pulls her to him. “Satine?”

“Is it possible that an unborn, Force-sensitive child could pass midi-chlorians to the mother carrying that child?”

Another flash of lightning. Obi-Wan’s face drains of color.

“Satine?” he asks weakly.

“Is it possible?” says Satine again, but she needn’t have wasted her words. His reaction confirms it.

Then the downpour commences.

Obi-Wan swears and pulls Satine forward.

And then they’re running, slipping in mud and trying to remain upright. She lets Obi-Wan navigate as she does everything in her power to keep up with him.

They are close to the entrance but far enough away that by the time they reach it, they are both completely drenched from the monsoon. They’re also both covered in mud.

But that doesn’t stop Obi-Wan from reaching for Satine as soon as they’re inside the Temple, pulling her into his arms.

“Are you sure?” he asks, and she thinks she hears terror and joy wrapped up in his voice.

She nods against his chest. “The timeline fits,” she manages to say. “That night, on the transport to Dantooine…”

He just holds her tighter.

Then he pulls back, framing her face between his hands. “Are you…okay?” he asks urgently, eyes searching her face for answers. “Are you alright?” In any other moment, she would laugh at his ineloquence. But here, now, she doesn’t have time to notice, and her answer is immediate. 

“I’m fine, Ben,” Satine says, and she thinks might be crying but there’s so much water everywhere that she can’t be sure. 

Obi-Wan lets himself grin. “You saw our daughter?” he asks weakly.

Satine nods, pulling her hands up to rest on his. “She is perfect, Obi. Your eyes. My nose and mouth. Copper hair. A tad lighter than your own.”

He kisses her, deep, soft, tender.

Then he wraps an arm around the small of her back, and the other cradles the back of her head. Satine buries her face in the crook of his neck. Obi-Wan kisses her temple.

“She is going to be formidable,” he whispers in awe, and Satine smiles into his skin.

[s-serendipit-y]

weak s/o almost killed - gundham, kazuichi, korekiyo, mondo

anonymous asked: Hello there! I'm wondering if you could do Mondo, Gundham, Korekiyo and Kazuichi rescuing their shy/weak s/o from being killed by one of the other students. I love your work, btw!

a/n: thank you so much! i’m happy you like what i write :))

also i left the attacker unnamed so it’s up to your imagination who it can be :)

mentions of violence with weapons

——— gundham tanaka

it was almost bedtime when you decided to go to rocketpunch market before meeting with gundham

during your time on the island you and gundham had grown close. very close.

and now you were staying the night at gundham’s cottage since he claims that “mortals like you shouldn’t be alone.”

you open the door to the market walking towards your favorite snacks.

as you started grabbing the last few things you wanted you heard the door open

“hello...?” you called out, hoping for an answer

soft footsteps echoed throughout the building stopping at the aisle before yours

you could hear your heartbeat in your ears too scared to even move.

then the person came into view holding a sharpened piece of wood

“…please, you don’t have to do this-“ you muttered

“i want to leave, s/o.” they said stepping closer, “and you’re the easiest target.”

you dropped the contents in your hand attempting to run past them but they grabbed your wrist tossing you on the ground

you back slammed into one of the shelves, tears filling your eyes as you looked up seeing them standing over for you.

“what the hell are you doing?”

you recognized that voice, relief washed over you as your attacker runs off in the opposite direction

gundham kneels down next to you, “where were you? i swear, making an overlord wait...”

you pull gundham into a hug stopping him mid sentence, “thank you for finding me, there’s no telling what would’ve happened if-“

“there's no point in saying that” gundham pulls himself out of your hug, helping you stand up.

you both leave the market not saying another word about what could’ve happened

——— kazuichi soda

you were alone in your cottage, waiting for kazuichi to arrive

you two had grown pretty close and you invited him to come to your cottage after bedtime which he quickly agreed to

you were setting up the snacks you got earlier on your bed when you heard a knock on your door

“kazuichi you’re here early.” you chuckle opening the door

but it wasn’t the pink haired mechanic, but one of the other students standing at your door.

they were hiding something behind their back a blank expression on their face

“oh! um, did you need something?” you ask hiding part of your body behind the door

“i heard you were meeting with kazuichi today.” they said, you nod

“umm yeah… but he’s not here yet.” you admit.

“can i come in?” they request

“sorry but i’m actually busy right now-“ you go to close the door but they stop it with their foot.

they forced themselves into your cottage revealing the knife they had behind their back

“i’m gonna kill you s/o, and blame it on kazuichi.” they say

they raise the knife at you slightly cutting your arm as the knife came down quickly

you run towards the bathroom trying to lock yourself in the there but they start pushing on that door too

you try to match their strength to keep it closed but to no avail. the door flies open and you fall on the ground.

they say nothing as they raise the knife once more

“hey! leave s/o alone!” you hear the pink hair male yell at the entrance of the bathroom door.

you attacker turns around the color draining from their face. they push past kazuichi running out of the cottage.

“s/o! are you okay, i’m so sorry!” he says quickly sitting down next to you. “you’re bleeding, i’ll go get mikan!”

you grab his wrist, stopping him, “no please just stay here with me. i don’t want to be alone.”

“well what about your arm?” he mutters

you grab a towel wrapping it around the cut, “thank you for saving me,” you say quietly

kazuichi smiles, “well it’s not like i want you to die s/o! maybe we should tell the others and have them tied up.”

——— korekiyo shinguji

you were going to korekiyo’s ultimate lab, it was already past bedtime so the grass filled school was dark

you were coming close to the last set of stairs when an arrow went right past your head.

you spun around and saw a silhouette of one of the other students holding an weapon from a ultimate lab.

“w-what are you doing…?” you stuttered your back hitting the wall.

the staircase was right next to you, if you were fast enough you could probably run but they would most likely catch you.

“my family is waiting for me, i need to know if they’re okay.” they loaded another arrow aiming it at you, “i truly hope you’ll forgive me.”

before they hit the trigger you take off up the stairs, dragging your hand across the wall so you don’t fall. however before you reach the top, you’re attacker grabs your ankle pulling you down the stairs the loud thumping of your body echoing throughout the stair case.

they stood above you pressing the weapon your forehead.

“i’ll try to make it a quick as possible,” they mutter

“if you do that, i’ll tear out your nerves.”

they drop the weapon right by your head taking off down the dark hallway

korekiyo walks down the stairs helping you stand up, “my love are you alright?”

“i don’t- i don-“ korekiyo pulls you into a hug pressing a masked kiss to your forehead.

“it’ll be alright, i’m here to protect you.”

“can i stay in your room tonight, please.” you say in his shirt.

he laughs, “of course my dear.”

——— mondo owada

just like how celestia requested, everyone was in their rooms after the bedtime announcement.

yet you couldn’t fall asleep

monokuma has handed out everyone’s deepest darkest secrets and seeing yours made your blood turn cold

you opened the door to your room, hoping that mondo wasn’t asleep yet.

just like him and kiyotaka, you two grew close and if there was one person you could trust, it was definitely him.

the hallway was dark as you made your way down to his but as you got closer you heard a door open behind you.

“what are you doing out here s/o?” they asked.

you smile, “oh um- i’m just gonna go see someone real quick. why are you out here?” you asked back hesitantly

the shrug, “the new motive has put a lot on my mind.” you silently agree with their statement

“well i’ll be heading off now,” you turn around to go to your destination but a hand on your shoulder stops you.

“i never wanted anything to come to this.” they mutter their grip tightening

“c-come to what?” you ask even though you dreaded the answer

they say nothing pushing you against the wall between two dorm doors, their hands wrap around your neck cutting off your breathing

your hands grip theirs trying to pry them off you but you weren’t strong enough, you tried to gasp for air but to no avail.

right before your vision was filled with darkness your attacker was punched in the face falling onto the ground as you fell too.

you rubbed your neck looking up to see mondo, his entire face red out of anger as he looks as you attacker.

“i should kill you,” he hissed bring his fist to hit them again.

“n-no... stop…” you weakly get out reaching out towards the male.

he looks back at you, his expression softening. the attacker takes off back to their dorm. “you alright?” he asks kneeling down to look at you.

you shrug, saying nothing continuing to run your throat.

mondo sighs, “what were you doing out of your dorm anyways?”

“to see you, i couldn’t sleep.” you say quietly

he turns away from you to cover his flustered face, “just be more careful next time, i might not always be here to protect you. alright?”

you nod and he helps you up going into his dorm room, helping you sit on his bed.

“get some sleep,” he says, “i’ll be right here if you need me.”

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Part 2 Word Count: 3.5k

Read Part 1; Read Part 3

Autumn

A few days passed and the temperature had started dropping to one appropriate to fall. Each morning, Bucky had gotten up to exercise. And each morning, he opened his curtains to see that the house across from him remained unchanged. Lights that never turned off. No noise whatsoever. If it weren’t for your car in the driveway, he would’ve thought that no one lived there.

On his runs, he was able to see various things that needed fixing, like a fallen tree that was slightly in the way of a path or a pothole in the driveway he could patch. This morning though, instead of his run, he decided he was going to look around the back of the house, which was fenced off into a yard. From the gate, Bucky could see an old in-ground fire pit in the middle of the yard, closer to the screened in patio of the house than the far end of the yard, where the grass was overgrown- he would have to get on that.

The sound of a vehicle crunching on the gravel driveway caught Bucky’s attention. He walked from the side gate to the front porch where a man in a postal worker’s uniform was straining to get a large box out of the truck. Jogging over, he helped the older man set it down on the ground.

“Phew, thank you kindly sir,” the older man huffed as he took his hat off and wiped the sweat off of his forehead.

After taking a few moments to catch his breath, he walked around the side of the mail truck to grab a tablet from the front seat.

“Can you sign for this package?” He asked as he handed the tablet over to Bucky.

“Uh, sure.”

As he was signing, you came out the front door with a bottle of water in your hand. Bounding down the steps, you handed the cold water to the postal worker.

“Sorry, I would’ve been out earlier but I saw that you were working so hard, so I went back to grab a water for you.”

Bucky handed the tablet back as the older man thanked you.

“I appreciate it, ma’am. Do ya'll need help getting this inside?”

You looked at Bucky who shook his head.

“I think we’ve got it from here.” He said.

“Okay folks. Have a nice day.”

The postal worker turned around and got back in his truck. As the car started to roll forward, he lowered the window and waved while saying,

“It’s nice to see a kind young couple move into this area!”

With the truck halfway down the driveway, there was no chance to correct him. You looked at Bucky, mouth slightly ajar before shrugging it off with a small laugh. He chuckled as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

“He seems like a sweet guy.” You said as you watched the truck disappear behind the trees.

“Yeah.”

You stood there for a moment in silence before you spoke.

“So…”

“I’ll help you bring this in.”

“Okay, great, because there was no chance I was going to get this in by myself.”

You watched as Bucky lifted the large box with ease. As he went up the porch steps, you quickly passed him to hold the door open for him.

“I’m pretty sure that’s my bed frame, so you can set it in the room at the end of the hall.”

He turned to head down the hall, being careful to not bump into any walls. Entering the open room, he saw a room with plain white walls and a light sand-colored hardwood floor. Delicate sage green curtains moved ever so slightly as the breeze brought fresh air into the room. There was a mirrored closet with clothes that was cracked open, a small white table close to the ground, some boxes stacked in the corner of the room, and in the middle of the floor was a mattress covered in sheets, blankets, pillows and a laptop paired to some over ear headphones. He set the box down leaning against the wall.

“Ah, sorry about the mess, I haven’t had a chance to really get anything set up.” You say as you pass him to open the curtains wider.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry you had to sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I still had the mattress so it wasn’t bad.”

Another pause. Bucky cleared his throat.

“Do you want help putting it together?” He asked, gesturing towards the box.

You sighed in response.

“Yeah, actually, I could. I’m sorry to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble.” He replied, seeing you smile tiredly from the corner of his eye.

You grabbed a pair of scissors sitting on the vanity and started opening the box. Once it was open, Bucky pulled out a large fabric cream colored headboard. You tried not to be too impressed at the fact that he pulled it out with one arm, flexing the muscles in ripples. It felt wrong to ogle so you shook your face slightly and dug into the box.

The material of the headboard was similar to canvas, reminiscent of the old cloth bags that flour used to come in when he was a child. As he set it down against the wall, he ran his right hand over the cloth one more time before letting his hand fall off.

The sound of you pulling out the metal parts to the actual bed frame snaps him out of his lull. Setting them down gently on the floor one by one, you attempt to make conversation.

“So, how’s the apartment? Is it okay? Do you need anything?” You asked, trying to hide how slightly out of breath that you were. Bucky walked over to grab the rest of the metal bars out of the box before you could try.

“Yeah, everything’s great. Thanks…”

There’s a lull as you fish the bag of screws and the instructions from the bottom of the box.

“Great. I couldn’t get down here soon enough to check everything myself. The real estate agent took pictures but it’s definitely not the same as laying your eyes on it in person.”

You open up the instructions and Bucky stands awkwardly before deciding to sit on the floor across from you. He leaned back onto his hands and enjoyed the fresh air circulating in the room. The slight chill was nothing compared to all the cold he had faced in his lifetime. That meant he could get by in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans. You, however, were bundled up slightly more. Bucky’s eyes trailed over you slowly as you focused on the instructions. Your hair was tucked back behind your ears in an attempt to keep it out of your eyes as you read, forest green shirt was layered with a cozy open cardigan. The black slim-cut joggers had fuzzy mid-calf socks layered over them to keep any warmth from escaping. Bucky wondered how much more you could possibly layer when the Winter comes and the true cold settles in the area. Before he could think about that, you flip back to the front page of instructions and tentatively spoke.

“Okay, so I think I get it…”

---

The next hour or so consisted of you telling him what parts went together and him screwing them together. It settled into a good flow, with scattered conversation sprinkled in between.

“So, how’re you enjoying Louisiana?” you asked casually as you skimmed over the next set of instructions.

“I haven’t been here long. It’s… different than New York,” he said as he twisted the screw in. At his prompting, you handed him another one. “Everyone’s friendly. It seems like a tight-knit community.”

“They definitely are,” you mused. “Brooklyn, right?”

He looked up at you, causing you to blink and then avert your gaze.

“Sorry,” you started to explain. “I saw the Smithsonian gallery during my last visit to New York… Do you ever have people recognize you?”

“Sometimes,” he said quietly, pausing for a moment before continuing on. “When I do get recognized, it’s not usually the kind of people I’d want to recognize me.”

Bucky thought back to shortly ago in Madripoor. Definitely not the kind of people that he wanted to recognize him. He shook the thought out of his head and continued.

“It’s strange to think that all those people who pass by the exhibit just know me now.”

You reflected on when you saw the exhibit. Right in the middle was a cutout of Bucky Barnes: Captain America’s Right Hand Man. The few paragraphs that were featured at the exhibit did not seem to fully encapsulate the man sitting in front of you, carefully screwing the metal pieces together.

“I think they know about you, but they don’t know you. There has to be more to James Buchanan Barnes than three paragraphs written by someone who’s never actually met you.” You say, meeting his eyes and raising your eyebrows comically.

For some reason, hearing his full name unnerved him. It made him antsy. He didn’t have any experience with being the center of any positive attention, and all of a sudden, your focus on him was scorching. He looked away and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I suppose so.” He said gruffly.

You smiled gently before looking back down at the instructions to try to put him back at ease. It was funny, watching someone with such a hardened exterior be flustered so easily. There was definitely more to Bucky Barnes than meets the eye.

---

Bucky sat by himself, screwing the last piece in. You had left a few minutes ago to grab refreshments and hadn’t come back yet. He stood, dusting off his hands and pants before stretching his back and looking at the completed project. Picking up the mattress and all the blankets piled on it, he gently set it on the frame. Now it looked like you actually lived here. It was simple, but cozy.

The smell of butter and cheese wafted into the room, grabbing his attention. Looking up at the clock, Bucky realized it was almost noon. He followed the familiar smell to the kitchen where you were cooking, hair tied back and light-yellow apron. The delayed drinks were gathering condensation on the counter behind you. You looked over at him and slipped the apron over your head.

“Ah, sorry. I figured you could handle the last few screws so I started making lunch as well.” You said sheepishly.

“No, it’s fine. Thank you. It’s all done.”

He watched as you took the spatula and lifted a sandwich onto a plate, golden brown from toasting in the butter, matching the plate next to it. You had made the both of you lunch. Taking a knife, you cut the sandwiches in half and hand him the plate with the warm one that had just come out of the pan.

“It’s a grilled ham and cheese. I hope it’s okay.”

“You didn’t have to.” He responded, watching the melted cheese drip down the sides.

You shrugged. “I wanted to. Thanks for the help.”

“Thanks for the food. Do you need help assembling anything else?”

Your gaze flicked to the boxes leaning against the hallway. He looked behind at them and back, raising an eyebrow. Sighing in defeat, you spoke.

“… Yeah. But Sam is actually coming over later to help so you don’t have to do it now. If you do still want to help, you could come over then. I’ll be ordering dinner so you don’t have to worry about cooking. Though, please don’t feel like you have to. You’ve already done so much today.”

Bucky hesitated. He didn’t want to invade your life too much. After all, you were a woman living alone in a new area, the last thing you probably wanted was a strange man turning a contract into a forced friendship because you were polite. But then again, you had just moved down here. Of course, you needed a lot of help in the beginning. Soon, things will settle back to normal and then you’ll be back to just being neighbors who see each other outside occasionally.

“Sure. I’ll be back later when I hear Sam pull up. He doesn’t follow directions anyway so you probably need someone to supervise him.” He joked.

You smiled up at him.

“Great. You must be tired. You can take lunch to go and bring the plate back later.”

You didn’t want to keep him. He wouldn’t have minded staying. But he was still new to being an actual person again. His social battery was a little drained, and he appreciated the easy out.

“Okay, I’ll see you later.” He said, giving his classic low-key three finger salute.

“Bye,” you replied softly as you watched him open the screen door and walk down the porch steps. Lightly padding down the hallway, you peaked into your room, seeing the final product. It was sweet that he put the mattress down and you noticed he had also straightened out the blankets just a little. What a sweet gesture. He was a gentleman. Despite the gruff. You padded back down to the kitchen and sat at the counter to eat. It always felt wrong to make so much noise. You were just one person. One tiny insignificant useless person.

---

Bucky sat at his kitchen table, finishing the sandwich that he had started to eat on the way in. His attempt to eat it while it was still hot was so worth it, the bread still warm and comforting. As he took his last bite, he traced his finger on the little pattern of flowers and leaves on the border of the sage green ceramic plate. All of the little homey, slightly old-fashioned details were very reminiscent of home. Not his previous apartment in Brooklyn. But home back in the 1930’s when he was growing up. It was comforting. He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes, dreaming of a world that no longer existed.

---

Later, Sam knocked on the door way and shouted up the stairs through the screen door.

“Hey, anybody home?”

You bounded down the stairs and unlocked the screen door to let him in, giving him a hug in greeting.

“Woah, woah, don’t make me spill the goods,” he said with a laugh, holding the two cases of beer up.

“Good to see you too,” You joked.

Bucky saw the interaction from the garage window that faced your porch. He wondered if there was something between you two and quickly shook the thought from his head. He wasn’t jealous, just curious. It didn’t matter. After all, you were Sam’s friend first.

People can have friends, idiot. What does it matter to you? He thought to himself as he walked down the stairs to the garage.

Walking across the gravel to your front door, he knocked on the screen door as well.

“Come in!” You yelled from upstairs.

He opened the front door and walked up the stairs into the living room.

“Hey, Buck! How’re you settling in?” Sam said, giving him a hug as well.

“Good, it’s really nice out here.” He replied after they had separated.

“Good. I’m glad. You look like you finally got some rest.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, he was over early this morning, hauling around a bunch of heavy stuff and putting furniture together.” You interjected, bringing the bottle opener in from the kitchen.

“Let me guess, he completely messed it up? Turned your table into a chair or something like that?” Sam teased. Bucky slapped him upside his arm.

“Despite the picture you painted of him, he was extremely competent.” You said while trying not to laugh at Sam’s face of fake hurt. “Now come on, there’s a beer fee, you get one beer for every piece of furniture you put together.”

“I’m the one who brought the drinks though!” Sam protested, following you down the hall to the room where the boxes were.

Bucky smiled a bit as he listened to you both squabble. Friends or not, it was nice to have someone else to annoy Sam with.

---

“You sure you’re okay to go pick up the food?”

You looked up at Bucky from where you sitting on the floor, reading directions while Sam, who was ever so slightly tipsy, was trying to get a leg of a night stand to fit straight.

“Yeah, I’m good. He looks… busy. And it’s probably better for me to go out this late. You know, ‘cuz you’re a woman... lady.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Not to say that you��re not perfectly capable of handling yourself, I just mean… uh…”

“Pff-”

The laugh that Sam had been trying to hold back escaped from between his lips loudly as he covered his mouth. You rolled your eyes but regardless, a smile crept up on your face.

“Ignore him. I was just giving you a hard time. It’s very chivalrous.”

You paused thoughtfully.

“On a serious note, that’s very sweet of you. I appreciate it. You can just charge it to the card I gave you.”

He nodded and started walking down the stairs to the porch.

“Be safe!” He heard you call softly down the stairs.

“Will do.” Bucky instinctively responded.

The screen door shut behind him as he made his way across the driveway to where his own motorcycle was parked. A sleek modern black sports bike. Something he’d bought when he wasn’t ready to look at Steve’s old cruiser. He’d put the cruiser in the garage to work on and keep safe.

He mounted the bike and started it, the engine coming to life. He went to check what time it was on his phone when he realized he had left it inside. Swinging his leg over, he started to walk back up to the front door when he heard your conversation with Sam from the open living room window.

“Feeling at home?” Sam asked. There was a short silence before you answered hesitantly.

“Something like that.”

“How you holding up?”

“It’s been okay… lonely… I just can’t believe I let it go on for so long.”

Bucky hadn’t realized he had stopped in his tracks, eyebrows furrowed as he listened.

“The people who are trapped in the abusive relationship themselves always have a harder time seeing it than anyone else.”

Bucky blinked in surprise as Sam continued.

“It’s like that thing they say when you’re cooking with frogs. If the water’s boiling when you first put them in, they’ll hop right out the pot. But if you put the frog in cool water and slowly heat it up, they’ll stay, no matter how hot it gets. The more gradual the process is, the less likely they are to realize that they’re in trouble before it’s too late.”

“Yeah…” Your voice sounded heavy. Burdened.

“He was nice at first, wasn’t he?” You asked rhetorically.

“He was.”

“Fooled me…”

“Fooled me too. I never would’ve introduced him to you if I had known that’s what he was like. I should’ve known there was something off about him. I should’ve sensed it during the support group he came to at the VA.” Sam said regretfully.

“Hey, it’s not your fault, Sam.” You said, chastising him. “At some point, I knew that things were heading in the wrong direction. He got so angry. So spiteful. I knew I had stopped loving him and started being afraid of him. But then everyone was dusted, and I didn’t have anywhere else to be, anyone else to be with besides him. Being somewhere new by myself would bring struggles I couldn’t prepare for. At least with him, I knew what to be afraid of. Then everyone came back and he almost killed me. I guess I was just a poor little froggy.”

You tried to ease the heaviness of the conversation by being lighthearted with the last sentence. But there was still a sadness in your voice.

“Still. I wish I could’ve helped you when you broke your shoulder.”

“Don’t feel bad, Sammy. I ended up just fine. I’m here now. The only thing I regret is letting him trash my piano. It was old, but I grew up playing that thing.”

“I know how much it meant to you.”

“It’s okay, it's a new start. Besides, you were off fighting to be Captain America! Rightfully so. If this was the sacrifice I had to make for the right man to be able to take up the shield, I would’ve broken my other shoulder too!”

Sam must have given you a death glare because you laughed suddenly and your tone changed to defensive.

“Kidding! Kidding. Yeesh. But seriously, I’m proud of you. And thank you, for helping me start over.”

Bucky unclenched his hands. He hadn’t realized that he had gotten tense. Turning around, he headed back to the bike. He didn’t need his phone. He didn't want to let on that he overheard. Getting back on the bike, he waited until he heard laughter to sneak down the driveway, masking the fact that he was just now leaving.

Once he got out on the road, he sped up- letting the wind sting against his face and cool it down. The thought of a man using his own strength to hurt what was supposed to be his other half- it made him so mad. No wonder you were scrambling to get out here. He hoped that you never had to go through anything like that again.

Rest assured, if he can do anything to prevent that from happening, he will.

[thepremedthatwrites]

Isolated (pt. 2)

summary:  You had married Peter as an arrangement.  There was no love involved.  At least that’s what you thought but things can change.  While you may have been unsure of your feelings for the High King, you were certain of one thing: your loneliness.

I’m planning to make a third part as there are things I want to include for the conclusion that I couldn’t fit here.  Thank you for all the love the first part has received! 

part 1 | part 3

I woke up to a cold and empty bed.  I slowly lifted myself up, looking around the room to see that I was alone.  I got out of bed, last night’s events flashing through my mind.  Stupid.  Why did I think our relationship would differ after last night?  All that happened was me crying like a baby in front of the man I had married.  If anything, Peter must have pitied me.  I grimaced at the thought.

I took my time getting dressed, wanting to waste as much time as possible.  If I was lucky enough, the others would be gone by the time I went to get breakfast.  As I brushed my hair, a knock was heard from the door.  I slowly opened the door to reveal Lucy standing in the hall, a tray of fruits and pastries in her hand.  I hated that I had held my breath, hoping it would be Peter.  “Mind if I come in?”  she asked.

“Of course not,” I replied, trying to hide the disappointment from my face.  I watched in curiosity as the young Queen placed the tray of food onto my nightstand.

“I brought you some breakfast,” Lucy said, sensing my confusion.  “I had noticed you hadn’t been eating that much and I thought perhaps it may be easier if you ate here away from all of them.”  

“Thank you.”  I struggled to think of anything else to say.  We stood in silence for a moment before Lucy began to speak again.

“Peter talked to us this morning.”

“Did he?”

“Yes, he was practically fuming as he spoke.  He informed us that we should be ashamed of the way we had been treating you and that we had done nothing to make you feel welcome here.  I’m pretty sure he said we did the complete opposite actually.”  Dread filled me as I felt my heart drop to my stomach.  I never wanted Peter to confront the others.  I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as I picked at a strawberry.  

“I didn’t,” I started.

“It’s alright (y/n),” Lucy said, cutting me off.  “He’s right.  We’ve been absolutely awful to you.”  I felt the warmth spread to my neck, my heart racing as I started to feel light-headed.  Lucy had continued to talk but I wasn’t listening anymore.  Were the others angry at me?  Did they think I sent Peter to tell them?  Or worse, what if they felt bad for me?  I felt my stomach turn at the thought.

“I think I may need to be alone right now,” I said, cutting Lucy off mid-sentence.  Lucy’s mouth snapped shut before she nodded.

“Of course.  I do hope to see you again soon.  Susan and I are going to the meadows to pick flowers at around noon if you would like to join.”

“Thank you,” I said.  Even to my own ears, my gratitude sounded forced.  Lucy nodded before scurrying to the door, softly closing it behind her.  I let out a groan before laying down on the bed.  Just when I thought things couldn’t get much worse.  First, Peter saw me at my lowest and now the entire castle knew.  My eyes opened to the sound of the door moving.  

Peter smiled at me as he entered the room.  I felt my chest become tight at the sight, although I was unsure of whether it was admiration or anger.  “Why did you do it,” I asked, my voice barely making it across the room.  The smile Peter had been wearing slowly fell.

“They had to know,” he said, sitting down next to me on the bed.  I propped myself up against the headboard.

“No, they didn’t.  I was perfectly fine with side glances and whispers about me behind my back.  But I can’t handle them knowing it gets to me.”

“If I didn’t tell them, they wouldn’t stop.”

“At least they wouldn’t pity me as well.”

“So you would rather they continued to harass you until your health deteriorated to the point we lose the baby?”

“Yes, Peter!” I said, my voice much louder than before.  “Now they’re going to hate me even more than before!”  Tears had started to well in my eyes.  I furiously blinked them away.

“They aren’t going to hate you,” he said, taking my hand into his.

“Just because you’re the High King doesn’t mean you can control how they feel about me.”

“But you can.”  I looked up, my (e/c) eyes meeting his blue ones.

“Talk to them.  Make them see what an amazing person you are.”

“What if they don’t want to.”

“I’m sure they will.”  My mind flashed back to Lucy’s offer.  Peter wiped away the single tear that rolled down my cheek.  “I believe in you (y/n).”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice a whisper.

“Now,” Peter said, his voice softer than I had ever heard it.  “Why don’t you eat your breakfast and I’ll tell you of the insane dream I had.”  I let out a small giggle as Peter leaned forward, grabbing the tray of food and propping it in front of me.  That morning was the first time I had felt like I belonged since I had entered the castle.  Peter and I conversed, laughed, and bonded more in those few hours than we had for the two years we had been married.  

A knock at the door made my story about my brothers and I sneaking into the kitchen come to a halt.  “Your Majesty?” a loud voice called from the other side of the wood.

“Yes?” Peter replied.  His soft and cheerful voice had been replaced with his lower and commanding voice.  The voice he used in diplomatic meetings and the throne room.

“Your meeting with Telmar is scheduled to start soon.”  Peter jumped out of bed as if just remembering.

“I’ll be right there!”  He turned to me, a small smile on his face.  “I hope we can continue this conversation later on.  It looks like my Kingly duties are calling me.”

“Of course,” I replied, getting up myself.  “I’m pretty sure I have plans with your sisters anyway.”  Peter’s smile grew at my words.  I almost didn’t realize what was happening until my lips were on his.  My surprise soon melted away and was replaced with pure joy.  I let my eyes close as I wrapped my arms around his neck.  Peter’s grip on me was strong but not overpowering, his lips softer than I could have imagined.  The last time we had kissed was at our wedding.     

We slowly pulled away from each other, a toothy grin on Peter’s face.  His face was slightly flushed, his blue eyes looking deeply into mine.  I knew I must have looked just as starstruck as I placed a hand on his cheek.  At that moment, I believed that perhaps we could have the perfect-picture marriage, filled with love and happiness.  “We should probably get going,” Peter whispered, his face only inches from mine.

“Yes,” I agreed.  I reluctantly left Peter’s arms.  He held the door open for me before we went our separate ways.  Him to his meeting and me to Susan and Lucy.

Lucy’s face lit up as she saw me approaching the garden.  “(Y/n)!” she exclaimed, almost running to meet me halfway.  “I’m so happy you made it!”

“Me too,” I replied, smiling back at her.  “I’m sorry about this morning.  I wasn’t in the best of moods.”

“It’s alright,” Lucy said as we made our way to Susan who was waiting near the gate.  “Peter’s the same way in the morning.”

“(Y/n),” Susan said, nodding at me.  

“Susan.”

“Look, I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you.”  Her words seemed scripted, the flow a bit awkward and her posture stiff.

“It’s alright,” I replied, just as awkwardly.  

“C’mon, let’s go!”  Lucy said, grabbing both of our hands as we left the garden and made our way towards the meadow that sat behind the castle.  The meadow was absolutely gorgeous, a wide array of wildflowers decorating the grass, a small pond to the left of us.  The forest sat watching on the right, the sound of nature filling the air.

“Oh, these are absolutely beautiful!” I exclaimed as I picked a bright red flower.  Lucy and I searched for more red flowers together, Susan keeping more to herself by the pond.  I couldn’t help but watch her, wishing that we could get along as easily as Lucy and I.  Lucy must have noticed this.

“You know, purple flowers are Susan’s favorite.”  I looked at Lucy, her eyes glimmering as if telling me to do with that information as I will.  “I’m going to go talk to her.”  I nodded as I watched Lucy make her way to Susan.  My eyes scanned the grass before finding a patch of purple wildflowers.  I picked them before looking for some white ones to go with them.  Soon enough, I had a bouquet of purple and white flowers.  Lucy had wandered away from Susan, catching interest in something near the edge of the pond.

“Susan,” I said softly as I made my way to her side.  She turned to see me.  She flashed a small smile as I sat down next to her.  We were both facing the pond, watching Lucy.  “I picked these for you,”  I revealed the bouquet.  Her smile seemed to grow slightly at this as she took the flowers from my hand.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice softer than before.

“I know you aren’t the biggest fan of me,” I said, not daring to look directly at Susan and instead watched Lucy as she had started to dip her toes into the water. 

“It’s not that,” Susan said.  “Maria is my closest friend aside from my siblings.  She loved Peter with all that she was.”  I felt the familiar heavy feeling in my chest.  

“I know.  I feel horrible for taking Peter from Maria.”  Susan shook her head, turning to face me.

“That’s the thing.  It isn’t your fault.  It isn’t Peter’s fault.  It’s just the reality of being a royal I guess.  And that’s what infuriates me.”  She paused, twirling a purple flower.  “And I guess I took that anger out on you.”  I turned my head to her.  She was now studying the ground.  “It wasn’t right and when Peter scolded us this morning, it made me realize that.  And seeing you and Lucy getting along so well.  I guess I just let my frustration get the best of me.  And I’m sorry.”

I studied the girl next to me.  Her perfect posture, flawless hair, and beautiful features announced to the world that she was a queen.  But underneath that perfection lay another layer.  The layer that nervously played with the bouquet of flowers, that caused her eyebrows to net together in discomfort, that caused her eyes to dart nervously around, afraid to make direct eye contact with me.  That layer was the human part of her.  The part that made mistakes, the part that distinguished her from the gods above.  “I forgive you,” I said, my voice calmer than I had expected it to be.

The feeling of cold water being splashed onto my legs caused me to turn my attention to the pond.  Lucy let out a laugh before going to splash Susan.  “Lucy!” Susan exclaimed, getting up.

Lucy splashed at us again, causing both of us to shriek.  I turned to Susan who was already looking at me.  “Susan, I think the only proper response to this is to fight back.”  A smile tugged at the corners of Susan’s lips.  It was the first genuine smile I had seen on her and it made her entire face glow with beauty.

“I agree.”  And with that, Susan and I rushed into the pond, a war of water and laughter ensuing.

[4stars-uswnt]

Through Sickness and Health [USWNT x Reader]

requested by anon: Could you write something with baby reader getting sick/hurt and the rest of the team taking care of them, preferably with Christen & Tobin being the “team moms” to them.

A/N: yay for t & c scoring today!!!

You stare at the plate of breakfast in front of you, massaging your temples, as if you could somehow rub the pounding headache away.

“Woah, (Y/N), you don’t look too good.” Emily observes, pausing mid bite of her eggs.

“Wow, thanks, Em.” You roll your eyes sarcastically.

“No, she’s right, (Y/N).” Mal rubs your back, examining you closely. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, guys, I’m fine. It’s just a little headache, probably because I din’t sleep that well.” You mumble, leaning your hooded head onto Mal’s shoulder.

“Alright well, drink up, we gotta go to the field.” Mal pushes your glass of water in front of you.  

You gulp down the water, slamming the cup on the table, as you get up and follow your teammates onto the bus.

—————

It was almost the end of practice, and you felt like you were either going to throw up or collapse, or both. Your head was pounding, your throat was dry, and your stomach was doing somersaults.

As soon as Vlatko blew the whistle, you rest your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath, exorbitant amounts of sweat dripping off of you.

“Kiddo, you okay?” Tobin comes up from behind you, resting her hand on your back.

You huff out a sigh and stand up right. “Yeah, I’m good.” You nod, sighing.

“Alright,” The older forward hums, squinting her eyes skeptically, “let’s get you on the bus.”

She wraps her arm around your shoulders, guiding you off the field. As you’re walking, your legs wobble like jelly, and you can feel them start to weaken.

“Tobes… I don’t feel so good.” You softly groan, before you completely faint, collapsing in Tobin’s arms.

“(Y/N)!” Tobin exclaims, gently laying you down on the grass. “(Y/N)? You with me?”

“Tobin!” Christen calls, frantically running up to the two of you, followed by the rest of the USWNT. “What happened?”

“I don’t know! She just fainted.”

Christen kneels down next to you and feels your forehead with the back of her hand. “She’s burning up.”

“She wasn’t looking too good this morning at breakfast.” Mal interjects, frowning worriedly.

“Yeah, she’d said she had a little headache.” Emily adds.

“Well why didn’t anybody say anything?!” Christen snaps at the younger defender, who just shrinks. An angry Christen Press was definitely a sight to fear.

When you first joined the national team a couple of years ago, at the age of 18, Christen and Tobin immediately took you under their wings, crowning themselves your official team moms. The two helped you both on and off the pitch, whether it be watching game film with you or discussing your decision to play professional. They were also particularly protective of you, especially Christen, who was also your Royals teammate.

“Chris, they didn’t know.” Tobin calms down the upset woman, reminding her the task at hand.

“Right.” Christen sighs, nodding her head.

Vlatko approaches the group, followed by the medical staff. “Guys, give (Y/N) some space.”

The women back up, making some room for the trainers and the stretcher, while Tobin and Christen stay close to you.

As they load you onto the stretcher, Tobin furrows her brows. “Where are you taking her?”

“We’re just gonna take her into the med room back in the locker room to check up on her. I don’t think it’s anything too too serious, but we want her to wake up before we make any diagnosis and take her back to the hotel.” One of the trainers explains.

“Can we come with you?” Christen asks, nervously biting her lip.

“If you’d like.” He nods, and the two forwards follow the medical staff.

Back in the med room, the trainers put you onto the bed and get a cool towel to put on your head. While you were not awake yet, they had a feeling it was a case of the stomach flu, so they got a cup of water and thermometer ready for you.

About five minutes later, you slowly opened your eyes and grumbled. “Whaaa…what happened?” You groggily rubbed your eyes, as you try to sit up.

“Woah, sweetie, how about you lie back down.” Christen gently pushes you back down to the med table. “You fainted, (Y/N). They say it’s the stomach flu.”

“Ugh… just great.” You mumbled under your breath, groaning in frustration and discomfort.

The head trainer, who’d noticed you were awake, reentered the room. “Hey, (Y/N), how are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a bus.” You mutter.

He picks up the thermometer and hands you a cup of water, which you sip, soothing your dry throat.

“I’m just gonna quickly take your temperature.” He motions for you to open your mouth.

A couple of moments pass before a beep sounds. “102.4” The trainer reads, before turning to Christen and Tobin. “Make sure she gets plenty of rest and drinks lots of water. I recommend taking her temperature every two hours or so, and when her fever breaks, then come talk to me.”

“You know I’m right here? I can take care of myself.” You protest.

Tom and Christen share a look, exchanging a silent conversation.

“Sounds good, Tom. Thank you.” The curly-haired forward smiles, and the trainer nods, making his exit.

Once the three of you are alone, Tobin starts, “(Y/N),” she brushes your hair out of your face, “Em and Mal said that you weren’t feeling too well earlier this morning. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think it was that bad, and I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it or worry you guys.” You shrug, avoiding eye contact with both women. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, honey.” Christen reassures. “We were just extremely worried when you fainted, especially since we didn’t know what was wrong.”

“Yeah, we care about you, kid.” Tobin coos.

“I love you, guys.” You mumble tiredly.

“We love you too, (Y/N/N).” Christen softly smile, reaching for your hand. “Now, c’mon, let’s get you back to the hotel, so you can rest.”

“Can one of you carry me?” You plead, giving them your best puppy eyes.

Tobin rolls her eyes at your childish behavior. “Sure, kiddo, hop on.” She squats down, so you can climb onto her back. The three of you make your way to one of the team vans, the bus having already left, and you head back to the hotel.

—————

As you’d fallen asleep on the ride over, Tobin carries you up to your room, takes your shoes off, and tucks you into bed.

After about an hour and a half of sleeping, you wake up, feeling a little better, but still quite uncomfortable.

“Hey, how you feeling?” Christen puts her book down, noticing you’re up.

“Eh, a little better.”

“Here, let me take your temperature.” She reaches for the thermometer and approaches you. “100.6. Not as bad, but not good. You’re still burning up.” She feels your forehead. “How about I draw you a warm bath? It might help cool you down, and you still stink from training.”

You stick out your tongue at her. “Chrissss, I don’t wanna move.” You whine.

“C’mon, you big baby. I’ll get it started.” She heads into the bathroom and starts the water, ignoring your grumbling and protests.

You throw the blanket off your body and begrudgingly enter the bathroom, where Christen’s sitting on the edge of the bath full of warm water and bubbles.

“Here, I’ll turn around, so you can get in.” The older woman stands up and turns to face the door.

You strip off your clothes and toss them to the side before sinking into the bath.

“You can turn around now.” You announce to Christen, as you close your eyes, relaxing in the warm water.

“Feel good?” She asks, returning to sit on the edge of the bath.

“Mhmm.” You hum, before opening your eyes. “Where’s Tobin?”

“She went to get you some snacks, medicine, and some more water.” Christen answers, as she reaches for the shampoo. “Wet your hair for me?”

You lean back, letting your hair fall in the water while keeping your face drying. You sit back up, and Christen begins to wash your hair. As she massages your scalp, you feel your eyes droop. You hear the door open and close, and Tobin peeks her head in the door.

“Hey, (Y/N/N), you’re up? You good?”

“Mhmm.” You blissfully hum.

“I see the bath is helping.” Tobin smirks, winking at Christen. “Well, I got you some snacks and meds.” She holds up a bag.

Your eyes fly open at the mention of food. “Oooo, what kind?!” You sit up so fast that water and bubbles splash onto the brunette forward.

Christen glares at you, and you shrink back into the water. “Wash.” She points.

You dunk your entire head in the water, squeezing your eyes shut, and you scrub the soap out of your hair. Emerging from the water, you wipe the water from your face and see Tobin has joined Christen, sitting on the edge of the tub.

“So what kinda snacks did you get?” You eagerly ask.

Tobin chuckles and leans down, reaching into the bag. “I got some cheddar popcorn, Oreos, pita chips, and some banana and peanut butter.”

You grin at the thought of all your favorite snacks. But before you could reach out for one, Christen cuts in.

“Wait, (Y/N/N), you sure you up to eating something? Is your stomach feeling better? I don’t want you to throw up again.” She gives you a worried glance. You wince, as you remember the throw up incidences in the car as well as when you arrived to the hotel.

“My stomach is feeling a little better.” You assure the older woman, who’s still looking at you wearily. “How about I start with a banana?” You propose, trying to rest Christen’s qualms.

“Okay.” She nods, giving in, and Tobin breaks off a banana from the bunch, peeling it and handing it to you.

“Thanks, Tobes.” You grab it and take a bite.

After you finish half the banana, your stomach not wanting any more, and after your bath, you find yourself back in bed, sandwiched between the two forwards.

The three of you start to make some light conversation, when there’s a knock on the door.

Tobin slides off the bed and opens the door, and the rest of your teammates flood into your hotel room, climbing either on your bed or the bed across from you.

Mal, who took Tobin’s spot next to you, much to her displeasure, cuddled into your side. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Mhm.” You nod, snuggling into her body.

“Good. I was really worried.” She mumbles into your shoulder.

Your heart swells, and you grin. “Don’t worry. I’m good.”

“(Y/N), open up.” Christen interrupts, holding out the thermometer. “98.7” She reads, smiling.

“Thank goodness!” Kelley calls from the table, as she puts an Oreo in her mouth and plops at the foot of your bed. “We thought you died.” She exaggerates.

“Shut up, Kel.” You roll your eyes. “And stop eating my snacks.” You kick up your foot, trying to nudge the defender.

“No, but in all seriousness, (Y/N), we’re all really glad you’re okay.” Megan insists.

“Yeah, when you collapsed, we kinda all freaked out.” Julie adds, several of the other women nodding along.

“I think the scariest part was that we didn’t know what was wrong.” Alex says, and Christen hums in agreement.

“We want you to know that you can come to us with anything because we’re always here for you.” She softly grins down at you.

“Thanks you guys. It really does mean a lot. I’ve never really had people like you guys in my life.” You confess, smiling at your team.

“Well, you better get use to it because we’re not going anywhere!” Ashlyn exclaims, as she jumps on the bed, encouraging the other women to dog pile on you as well.

You look around you and can’t help but feel warmth spread throughout your body, and this time not from your fever but from love. You were extremely grateful that you had this team of women, especially Tobin and Christen, in your life, who’d be there for you through sickness and health.

[lee-aveyourmark]

excerpts of a mingyu work.

playlist: 

> ‘sunkissed’ by khai dreams > ‘nervous’ by shawn mendes  > ‘like me’ by pH-1 > ‘you’re the reason why i love’ by redpestbeats

wordcount: 2.7k+

“Heads up!” 

The words are shouted all too late as a football makes contact with your head, leaving you momentarily shaken as your vision flashes white. You stop in your tracks, hands immediately dropping the stack of notebooks and loose-leaf papers and flying up to clutch at the zone of impact. A wince forms on your face as you will yourself not to cry, fingers digging at your scalp. 

“Shit, I’m so so sorry.” 

The voice is laced with worry as a larger, sweatier pair of hands cover yours. Looking up, you make eye contact with a tall muscular boy adorned in sweaty football gear. His eyebrows are furrowed and is biting his lower lip in nervousness at your state of distress: injured in a messy sea of probably very important papers. The athlete quickly lets go of your head to bend down and pick up the excerpts of research papers you had printed out for your new assignment, apologising profusely all the while. 

“I really am sorry, I didn’t think it would hit you that hard. Or on the head for that matter.” 

You blink, trying to smooth your unkempt hair. 

“Wait, what?” 

The tree of a male stands back up and hands back your papers that he recollected into a neat pile with both hands and bashful eyes that are unwilling to linger on yours for too long. 

“You...hit me on purpose?” 

He scratches the back of his head, now definitely too afraid to look at you. 

“Um, yeah...I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you though!” 

You fold your arms across your chest, raising an eyebrow in bewilderment. 

“Then what exactly were you trying to do?” 

He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up, sticking out a hand. 

“I’m Mingyu. Kim Mingyu. Arts major. Star of the college football team.”

- - - 

The next time you bump into the attacking midfielder, he’s still a little sweaty. Only now, it’s just his hands that are perspiring out of anticipation. 

You’re relaxing on the couch when he catches sight of you: hair splayed out on the back pillows, hands resting comfortably on top of your stomach and eyes tracing the imaginary lines of your apartment ceiling. Mingyu takes a moment to quietly appreciate the lilac of your sundress, the glow of your collarbones and cheekbones in the dim lighting of your apartment and the pink peach painted upon your lips. 

His breath hitches in his throat when you look at him after he calls out your name, the Arts student quickly feeling himself blush under your gaze and perspire even more in his subsequent efforts to look presentable. He doesn’t think he could feel any warmer than at that very moment, holding himself back from reaching up to wipe possible beads of sweat forming on his forehead, until he hears his name escape from your lips. 

“Mingyu.” 

Your tone is soft, albeit surprised - so soft that he’s certain his heart is melting inside its chest. Mingyu wants nothing more than to run out of your apartment screaming in joy at how adorable every part of you is, arriving at his own dorm before violently shaking Seungcheol by the shoulders and furiously - but very gently, rubbing noses with his older friend’s blue British shorthair kitten Mia. Oh, and he definitely has to thank Seokmin profusely for inviting him to the party with his treat to barbecue at the grill house doted by college students placed on a week-long waiting list. 

That fantasy will just have to wait until he finishes this conversation with you. 

“I wanted to talk to you.” 

That is, if he even manages to make it out alive. 

- - -

Warm. That’s the only thing your mind can comprehend when he’s around you. Every detail of him, from his golden skin to his saccharine smooth talk, sends heat coursing throughout your body. The scene is so new yet so familiar: Mingyu dressed in charcoal slacks and a Prussian blue short-sleeve button up sitting opposite of you at a small round table for two in a cozy Italian restaurant nearby campus, delicately sipping on a glass of cheap, bright red wine with one hand and softly holding yours with the other. 

You hang onto his every word as he admires the mellow spring breeze and the bright starry night sky, stopping yourself from telling him how you think that they couldn’t compare to his wide and curious eyes. However, the glint in his eyes as he shifts his gaze back to you from the restaurant balcony that is fenced by chipping wood coated in a messy layer of white paint tells you that he’s already picked up on your thoughts. Embarrassment rises to your cheeks as you look down at your bowl and continue to eat your pasta, being careful to not let the sauce smear to prevent the dream of Mingyu touching your lips being fulfilled. 

Although, when Mingyu tries his best to not whine about you not giving him a chance to be romantic while walking back to your dorm but ends his complaint with a pout and the swinging of his arms, you stutter to him out of sheer amazement at his brazenness that you’ll try to be more open next time. Excitement lights up Mingyu’s face at the thought of going on another date with you, prompting him to hold you firmly by the shoulders and swoop in for a kiss on your temple. His uncontrollable giggles afterwards is like music to your ears, and you wish you didn’t reciprocate the gesture of affection so quickly that you might’ve been able to listen to his audible enjoyment just a little longer. But his agape jaw and clasping of his left cheek with both hands is more than gratifying enough. 

He scoffs with a roll of his eyes, tongue poking his cheek, and your heart stops. 

“Wow, I really I can’t believe that I like you this much.”

- - -

One of your many other meet-ups with Mingyu later is at one of his football training sessions. His face is gleaming and his team jersey is clinging to his defined body like a second skin, the neon green of his bib fluttering against the wind as he dribbles the ball with ease across the vast green field. You’re waiting on the benches, watching him finish up the last of his practice. The mock match ends with campus heartthrob Jeonghan kicking the final goal before shooting finger guns and winks at a group of girls seated at the adjacent section, the shrill blowing of the whistle bringing some players to collapse onto the soft grass beneath in relief. You rise to your feet and send a few claps the team’s way in acknowledgement of their hard work, eyes immediately locking with Mingyu’s at your show of support. 

Despite the strenuous exercise, you still manage to pick on up his cologne - the same one at the party and during dinner, when he runs over and greets you with a kiss on your cheek that lingers. His action brings on a cacophony of cheers from his teammates, the captain Seungcheol patting him on the back with a dimply smile while jogging by.

“Let me get washed up, and then we can go to that new dog cafe on the corner.” The suggestion is mumbled in a smile against the warmth of your cheek, ending with another kiss before Mingyu pulls away and rushes off to take the quickest shower of his life.

As the two of you walk in the spring breeze, you can’t help but think that the world is on your side when watching the cherry blossoms fall. The feeling of his calloused hand tightly holding yours and his attempts to close as much distance between as possible by pressing his side to yours brings butterflies to your stomach, the nervousness and excitement persisting whenever you’re with Mingyu. 

And when he leans in to plant a sweet kiss on your cheek just before taking a picture of you two crouched on the floor of a dog cafe cuddling a lovable Samoyed smothering kisses on your other cheek, you hope that the butterflies never leave.

- - - 

“I think Wonwoo likes you.” 

Your head snaps up from your notebook towards your study partner with wide eyes, your pen stopping its writing mid-word. 

“Wonwoo? My Wonwoo?” 

Mingyu doesn’t reply, just stares at you with an unknown expression clouding his face. 

“Come on Mingyu, if you’re jealous, you can just tell me. And besides, you know that there isn’t anything between us.” You laugh, refocusing on your notes with a light shake of your head. 

“That’s want I want to believe as well, but I don’t think that’s true. I think he does have feelings for you.” 

Mingyu thinks back to all those times he’s seen you with your best friend, the way that Wonwoo looked at you, his eyes all too similar to how his own shone when catching sight of you. He thinks of Wonwoo, the best friend who doesn’t bat an eyelash when insulting any person on earth but doesn’t make a single judgmental comment about you, even when you do need the discipline. Wonwoo, who tries so hard to be physically and intimately close to you as possible without being rejected, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder during lectures and sharing his drink without a second thought. Wonwoo, who Mingyu has made attempts to befriend, but can never find himself to be successful at doing so for vague reasons. Vague reasons that he now has come to understand. 

You notice Mingyu being caught up in a trance, thoughts plaguing his mind as he chews on his bottom lip. With a stroke of his cheek and a mention of his name, you bring him back. 

“What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“How do you feel?” 

He breaks gaze with you to look at the chipping of the table, the chewing of his lip highlighting the distress that whirls inside his mind. 

“I...I don’t know. I want you. But, I don’t want to take you away from your best friend.” 

- - - 

You see him everywhere. 

Running across the football pitch, hanging out with Seungcheol and Jeonghan at the campus cafe, in deep conversation with Minghao at the library. You don’t look for very long, afraid of what might happen if he caught you staring, but your memory captures his figure quite vividly. His slowly growing fringe covering his eyes that still manage to shine through, his golden cheeks that radiate the early sunset glow, his lips that trapped between his teeth when he stumbles across an obstacle. The details appear in your dreams. 

Your subconscious thinks back to how you used to run your fingers through his hair, sweeping that fringe back so that you could gaze into his loving eyes better, how you used to place lip gloss stained marks on those cheeks which would shine on summer nights as he smiled in contentment, how you used to catch his bottom lip between your teeth on a slow Friday night. Even when you close your eyes, you still remember the darkness of his hair and the tan of skin as clear as day. 

But as you continue to walk past the football team in practice, as you decide to hang out with Seokmin at a cafe off campus, as you choose to move your Thursday study session to your dorm, the fear of forgetting such beauties grows within. 

Slugging back to the dorm after a long day of classes and grueling part-time work, the cycle continues as you toss your bag to one side of the couch and meet Seokmin’s arms at the other where he places slow, comforting pats on your head and back.

“Mingyu, huh?”

- - -

The coolness of the window does little to alleviate the blazing heat flaming your entire body as the taxi drives you to the campus dorms. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and try to relax yourself against the oddly slippery seat of the car, your mind drifting to the events which occurred just before. 

“Fuck, I can’t give you the love you want from me. You know I can’t.” 

You stare at the blue ocean breeze candle decorating the console table in the entrance of your dorm, it’s flickering flame barely illuminating the eyebags sunken into both yours and Wonwoo’s faces. 

Your best friend doesn’t respond, instead he just fixes his gaze on the same light.

You wish he would say something. Anything. Anything to help let you know where his mind is right now, because you’ve grown weary of trying to read Wonwoo over the past few weeks. You can’t seem to understand Wonwoo anymore, especially when he refrains from sharing his feelings with you. 

The thought of the change in your relationship with him brings tears to slip out, streaming down your cheeks. Your hands quickly lift to wipe away the hot streams, nose sniffling from what you wish was the cold of winter season. 

Wonwoo doesn’t move. Just stares. His fingers tremble slightly, and his eyes glisten, but he doesn’t reach out towards you. 

So you take a deep breath. 

“You should go back to Hayoung. She’s probably waiting for you.” 

Wonwoo clenches his jaw, then unhinges. Closes his eyes, then opens them. Takes a slow breath. In and out. 

Seokmin comes around the corner, the couple of drinks in his system bringing rose to tint his caramel visage. He catches you slipping on your shoes and putting on your coat, and moves forward past Wonwoo to wraps his arms around you. 

“Where are you going?” His question is muffled into your neck. 

You return the auburn-haired boy’s hug, planting a firm kiss on his cheek before stepping back to take hold of his hands. 

“I’ll be back, okay? Don’t wait up. And make sure that Woozi eats something, he can’t drink on a handful of Flamin Hot Cheetos.” 

Seokmin nods with a pout, embracing you tightly once more. Walking back to the party in the living room, he stops to give a consoling pat on Wonwoo’s shoulder then continues on towards the said Music major reaching for his fourth shot of soju for the night. 

You clear your throat, partially due to the lack of liquid consumed in the past half hour, and also in attempt to rid the fear lurking in the pit of your stomach. With your eyes trained on the floorboards beneath, you step closer to Wonwoo and reach out to grab his forearm. 

With another clear of your throat, you look up at him. Tears gloss over his eyes, threatening to spill, but never falling. You see the miniscule quiver of his chin, a sight only beheld when being at such a proximity; a sight that you don’t think you will really ever be able to see again in all its vulnerability. 

“Goodbye Wonwoo.” 

- - -

He looks so out of place, sitting in the small retro diner wearing a grey taupe two-piece and shiny black dress shoes with his hair slicked back accessorised with a pair of tired eyes as he stuffs four fries into his mouth and sighs. You hear parts of the conversation they’re having, mainly of Seungcheol trying to cheer him up by praising him for doing well in the interview, but the arch of his spine renders the older friend’s attempts obsolete.

“Mingyu.” 

Your voice is quiet but he catches on, blinking in bewilderment before sighing loudly once more. 

“Hyung, I think I’m going-” 

“Mingyu.” 

You’re moving towards him this time, the sound of your shoes against the tiled floor bringing him to perk his head up and look around the diner with frantic eyes. 

His gaze falls on you, and your feet stop its movement. 

As he stands up and walks over, you notice that attached to his navy tie is the silver tie clip engraved with the initials kmg that you bought for his birthday, and that as he wraps his arms around your beneath your coat to sweep you off your feet, he still wears the cologne you bought as an accompanying gift. 

You also notice, as you bury your head in his neck, that tears are dampening the shoulder of your thin wool coat and his body is shaking with each sob that he racks out. 

"Oh, Mingyu.”

Thank you for reading this! I hope you’ve enjoyed it, even though it’s at its bare bones. I don’t think I ever will rewrite this the future to fill in the gaps, so I’ll leave it to your imagination. Thank you again. 

Also, stay tuned for the version of this more focused on Wonwoo’s relationship. 

[comfortwriting]

Ashtray Part 2 - D.M

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Draco Malfoy x Fem Gryffindor Reader

Part 1 , Part 3

Warnings: swearing, smoking.

Your first kiss in the hallway blossomed into a beautiful yet secret relationship with Draco, you got to see the side of him no one else knew existed. The two of you met up every evening whilst the whole of Hogwarts slept, going for the longest walks - hand in hand, sharing laughs and kissing. 

Part of you wanted to express your happiness out loud to the world - but you and Draco made an agreement to date in private, if either house found out, the two of you would be stuck in more mess than a spilt cauldron. 

Unfortunately, no matter how well you tried to hide your feelings for Draco and your relationship - your two best friends Ron and Harry already knew, and Hermione would find out sooner than later. 

Walking into Trelawney's class Hermione, Harry and Ron were already sat down, talking amongst themselves with sour expressions on their faces. 

‘okay...’ you sighed to yourself ‘stop overthinking, they don’t know, they just hate this class’ 

“Hey” you smiled, pulling out the spare chair and sitting down next to them.

“Hello Y/N” Hermione smiled 

Okay, good, she doesn’t know 

 “We missed you at lunch, where were you?” she asked, the whole class talking amongst themselves. 

Ron and Harry looked at one another, raising there eyebrows and looking annoyed.

“Detention with Mr Filch” you lied, fast on your feet. 

“With Malfoy?” sneered Harry, running his finger over the crystal ball, still not making eye contact with you. 

Draco wasn’t at lunch either, of course the two of you went for a picnic, you knew going for dates mid week in the middle of the day was cutting it close - but you didn’t realise people were catching on that fast.

“Well yeah” you replied “did you not hear about him sneaking around after lights out?” 

Ron went to speak but Harry shook his head at him, Ron shut his mouth and huffed - Miss Trelawney coming over and bothering Harry with this weeks predictions. 

“you will face great betray” her voice called out to Harry rather wavily “by someone you hold close” 

You swallowed hard and shuffled in your seat ‘she’s full of shit’ you thought to yourself ‘anyway, she’s probably got someone else in mind, I haven’t betrayed anyone’.

Once the class had finished, Harry wasted no time hurrying away from you, dragging Ron with him and telling Hermione to hurry up. Hermione stayed behind and pulled you aside whilst other students walked out and pushed past.

“Has something happened between you, Harry, and Ron?” she asked softly.

You looked at your shiny shoes, debating whether you should come clean about dating Draco - but there was no way Harry and Ron could know. 

“I’m not sure” you replied “they’ve been off with me for a few weeks now”

Hermione pursed her lips, thinking to herself and nodding “I’ll speak to them after I’ve done some studying.” 

Hermione left the library after hours of reading, writing and researching, bursting into the common room you collapsed on the sofa next to Ron and dumped her heavy  bag on the floor next to her feet. 

“Why have you both been off with Y/N?” she asked them, staring at Ron and then Harry, who was messing with his wand, staring into the fire. 

They didn’t answer. 

“She’s really upset and you owe her an explanation-”

“We owe her bloody nothing” Ron hissed, staring at his finger nails “she’s done the worst thing imaginable and doesn’t even have the heart to tell us.”

Hermione knitted her eyebrows together “what are you talking about?” she looked over to Harry, his jaw clenched and nostrils flared “Harry, tell me!” 

Hermione knew this had to be serious, Harry had been crushing on you for months after the two of you shared a dance at the Yule Ball, the way you comforted him after Cedric’s death. 

“Y/N is seeing Malfoy, the two of them have been together for a few weeks now” 

Hermione opened her mouth and let out an airy laugh “don’t be stupid, she hates Malfoy-” 

“Is that right?” Ron cut her off “show her, Harry”

Harry turned to face them, his back against the fire, reaching into his pocket he pulled out the Marauders Map. 

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good” Harry mumbled, tapping the map it opened up and red spread across the paper. 

Hermione got off the sofa and crawled over to Harry, peering over his shoulder and looking at your footsteps along side Draco’s walking together outside school grounds - she looked at Harry and mirrored the painful expression on his face. 

Hermione pulled out her wand “Mischief Managed” she croaked, tapping the map, turning it blank. 

“Harry I’m so sorry” she pulled him into a hug but he didn’t hug back, no matter what, he would always feel empty, betrayed knowing that the girl of his dreams fell for his enemy. 

Holding onto Draco’s hand, the two of you laid down on the cold grass and stared up at the night sky, watching the stars twinkle above you, some brighter than others. 

“It may sound silly but I think Harry and Ron are onto us” you said quietly.

Draco’s happy expression wilted and his face turned as hard as stone “and if they are?” 

You swallowed hard and pulled your gaze away from the stars, focusing on your boyfriends face “can you just all get along?” 

Draco looked as if vomit had come up through his throat and pooled into his mouth “you know that can never happen, don’t even suggest it again” 

You nodded, after all what did you expect?

The chill in the air attacked your neck and face, you sat up and hugged your knees, pulling them into your chest.  “I don’t want to lose you Draco, but I don’t want to lose my friends either.”

Draco sat up and stared into your eyes “as long as we’re a secret, you won’t have to make that choice” he stood up and out stretched his hand, you took it and he helped you get to your feet.

“Thank you for today” you said softly, the two of you walking back to the castle. 

Draco ignored you trying to change the subject, his insecurities whispering in his ears “if you do have to choose, will it be me?” 

You stopped in your tracks and stared at him, your heart weeping and your head pounding “it won’t come to that, Draco-” 

“it might” he stressed “and if you aren’t sure that you’ll stay with me, there's no point in us being together” Draco stormed off in front of you, his black sleek suit hiding him in the night. 

Tears pricked your eyes and you felt nauseas at the thought of being with Draco, although you had known this side of him for a small amount of time, you didn’t want to miss a second of that part of him - the Draco that enjoyed to slow dance under the moonlight, the Draco that spent time picking flowers making them into the perfect bouquet, the Draco who gave you his house scarf when you were freezing cold.  

You didn’t want to go back to hating him, you didn’t want to go back to knowing the Draco who hated you, who called you Ashtray, who made it his job to make your life at Hogwarts miserable. 

Running inside the castle, pushing past the nosy prefects and spitting the password at the fat lady, you hurried through the portrait hole, your group of friends already waiting for you - you were hoping they would open their arms and welcome you in, for Ron and Harry to be understanding and comforting - but they were the complete opposite. 

“Enjoy your date?” Hermione glared at you, her arms crossed over her chest. 

they know, it’s too late

“how could you do this to us? to Ron, to Harry, to me!” Hermione shrieked “after what he’s done to Harry, to all of us, he’s a death eater Y/N!” 

Your hot tears streamed down your face, your lips red and puffy. 

“Draco isn’t like that with me, you wouldn’t understand, if I told you, you would hate me-”

“better for us to find out from you than to see you kissing him in the middle of the night” Harry snapped “I trusted you, my feelings for you were... pure” 

Your breath hitched in your throat, Harry.. in love.. with me? 

“You’re not one of us” Ron butted in “not anymore, you may as well just go and pledge allegiance to-”

“I’m not a fucking death eater!” you yelled, everyone had come down from their dorms all in their pyjamas, staring at you. 

You pushed past the people you called your friends, trying to go to your dorm but the dorm mates stopped you, pushing you away from the stairs. 

Everyone was against you, everyone knew and there was nothing you could do; Draco wouldn’t have you back, not your moment of hesitation. 

“Fine” you cried “have it your way” 

Storming out of the dorm, you wails filled the halls, breaking out into the cold and harsh night, you pulled out your last cigarette, shoving it in-between your lips and setting it alight.

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