#so i once again begin to grow attached to a blanket. this always happens and then i feel betrayed when they need to go to war

[keeps-ache]

okay, cool cool cool

[mygloviesme]

cool about it. || myg

no. 6: we don’t have to talk about it

predebut/debut!yoongi x female idol

summary: kanako is an established idol with a growing career and a secret relationship with a producer from her label, haneul. when she’s asked to work with yoongi and rm to create a track for her, she gains unexpected feelings for a certain upcoming rapper. with her increasing fame, her controlling boyfriend, a set of six boys who seem to have grown an attachment to her, and a new boy who’d give her the world, how will she figure out a way to balance it all?

(definitely inspired by boygenius)

word count: 3.0k

genre: ANGST, friends(?) to lovers, slow burn, lots of pining, slight fluff

chapter warnings: toxic relationship (not w/myg), mentions of mental health, mentions of grooming (not w/myg)

inspo song: anything by adrianne lenker.

"i dont wanna be the owner of your fantasy, i just wanna be a part of your family"

FEBRUARY 15TH, 2012, 11:51PM

Once the games and conversations have settled, I sit in Yoongi’s bed once again, scrolling on my phone as the rest of them do. It was an eventful night with lots of screaming and jokes and fun. Something I’ve forgotten about these past ten months. I feel like I’ve been wrapped in a heated, weighted blanket and put to bed. That’s how this night has made me feel. I wonder if they know how much this has meant to me, I think to myself. 

If they did, would it scare them? 

I use that thought to my advantage and choose to not express those feelings, not for a while at least. They can’t know how lonely I've been these past couple years. How drained, isolated, and unhappy I’ve been. I want to enjoy this non-complicated bliss for a while longer. They don’t have to know just yet. 

I see a notification pop up on the top of my screen, causing me to freeze. I click to see the full message, It’s from Bang-PD. 

Bang: Hello Kanako, sorry to bother you so late at night. I’ve been informed by a colleague who knows someone that works at K-Station, that the story of you and Haneul will drop tomorrow. I’m unsure of how the story got out to begin with, but that will be discussed later. I know this is a big worry for you as much as it is for everyone here at BigHit, but I negotiated with him as much as I could. Unfortunately, all I was able to do was convince him not to release Haneul’s name, though he’s still releasing other information about him that still connects him to BigHit. I’m sorry for this, Kanako. The least I can do is cancel any sort of promotion that’s been previously booked for you this year. Please let me know however I, or any of the staff here, can further support you during this troubling time. There’ll be a meeting to cover more at 8AM tomorrow. 

My hands shake as I grasp my phone tightly, rereading the text over and over again. Over and over and over again. This can’t be real, right? How could this situation get any worse? Why does this always happen? What’s so wrong with me that I’m always hurting?

I click the call button and PD-nim answers almost immediately. 

“Yes, Kanako.” He says, knowing what I’ve called about. 

“One moment,” I mutter, rushing over Yoongi’s laying body and to the balcony door. It doesn’t occur to me at the moment how frantic I must seem to the boys. But I don't care. All I’m thinking about is what’s going to happen. To me, to the company, to the boy’s success. If they don’t succeed, it’s my fault isn’t it? This scandal is going to burn this company down to its core. It’s my fault, it’s my fault, it's my fault. 

I step onto the balcony, feeling the fresh hair hit my face and I close the door behind me. I bring the phone back up to my face and start to cry, “T-This is all my fault, isn’t it? I’m going to ruin the company’s name?” I choke.

“Kanako please calm down-”

“I CAN’T calm down! It’s my fault, it’s all my fault…” My cries turn into sobs. 

“We’re going to handle it, I promise you. We won’t go down without a fight.” 

I clutch my hair with one hand, shutting my eyes tightly. “What about the boys? The group? Will they still debut?” I whisper. 

His answer is delayed, and I can feel the hesitation that stalls his voice. Stop feeling. Stop feeling. 

“W-We will cover that tomorrow, they’ll be attending the meeting as well.” 

I shake my head uncontrollably, “No, Bang. They have to debut. You have to promise me that will still happen. I don’t care, let me go, I-I’ll give up my career. I’ll stop performing, just promise me.” 

I can hear him sigh through the phone, “It won’t have to come to that, Kanako. There is just some things we need to discuss. Tomorrow. Everything will be handled. Our priority is you at this moment, okay?” He aims to comfort me, but that doesn’t comfort me whatsoever. 

I don’t want to be the main priority, I feel like nothing compared to those boys. They have so much hope, so many dreams, and I’m fading away. I’m withering into the background and I’ve accepted it. I don’t matter. 

I swallow the growing lump in my throat with a wince. 

“O-Okay. See you tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow, Kanako.”

The phone call ends and I place my phone in my sweatpants, Jungkook's sweatpants. 

I walk over to the balcony railing, placing my hands along it softly. I sniffle my tears away and stare up to the night sky. It’s so quiet. I wonder, will the streets be rioting tomorrow? Will there be people at my doorstep, telling me I’m a horrible person? Will there be anyone left after everything’s been taken from me? It seems the universe isn't satisfied with my misery, not just yet.

I hear the door crack open behind me, looking to see who it is. I see all seven boys piling onto the balcony, knowing they won’t fit. So they all just stand amid themselves, some with hands in their pockets, some looking at me directly. Yoongi stands behind them, almost hiding. 

“Hi guys.” I laugh through my tears painfully. Jungkook, the lanky sixteen year old, snakes his way in my direction. He stands next to me, placing his arm around me. It catches me off guard but I don’t reject it. Just this once, I’ll soothe into someone’s consolation. Just this once. 

“You heard that, huh?” I say, knowing this situation brings déjà vu for the both of us. He’s always here, isn’t he? Coming to my rescue. He shouldn’t have to be. He’s so young, just like I was. 

“We, uh, all did.” He speaks with a gentle grip on my shoulder. Although being younger than me, he’s still much taller than me. But this time it doesn’t scare me that I have to look up to him, to someone. There’s a glimmer in his doe-eyes that makes me smile. 

I peak behind to the boys who stand there, all looking at the night sky with us. 

Yoongi steps forward through what seems to be a crowd, standing on the other side of me. 

“We’re here for you.” Is all he says, locking his eyes into mine. The care that rests in his demeanor is enough for my heart to glow shiny, bright red. But in this moment all I want is to be held, consoled. So I set those feelings aside and rest my head on Yoongi’s shoulder. Like he’s an old friend, someone who’s done this with me many times before. That’s how it feels anyway. 

I feel the rest of the boys surround us closer, and we extend to a group hug. It’s vulnerable, unexpected, but wanted. I feel wanted. Not in a lustful, wrong way. But in a grounding way. 

Is this how it feels to be loved truly, hopefully, madly, properly?

FEBRUARY 16TH, 2012, 8:00PM

I sit in the same conference room, but this time with the boys. Bang has no idea we had all just come from the same room, which I know is another stupid decision I made. But this one isn’t something I’d like to feel bad about, not yet. 

“First I’d like to say, this meeting will be met with zero judgment. We’re treading on very thin ice and I’d like this meeting to be beneficial. Is that understood?” PD-nim says, and we all agree unanimously. 

“Great, moving on. Kanako, how do you feel about canceling the rest of your previously booked events? This means,” He shuffles through his stack of stapled paper, “-Interviews, promotions, performances, and award shows.” He clears his throat and focuses on me. 

I lick my lips slowly, thinking of his question. I knew he asked that last night, but I was unsure even then. This means losing money. Lots and lots of money, from both ends. 

“What will it mean for my career?” I question honestly. 

“We still have an ongoing contract for you that we intend on fulfilling. It’ll be up to you if you’d like to renew it, as it ends on November 18th later this year. We are still wanting you to be an idol under this company, though. Your renewal will be met with zero hesitation from us, if you do decide to do so.” He says. 

I nod, “I’ll take a break, then.” 

He gives a half smile and writes something down, before looking at the group of boys. 

“There will be a stallment to your debut, as me and the team have discussed. The set date was,” He looks down to his papers again, “April 12th, 2013. Now it will be June 12th, 2013. Just to get everything back in order so we’re well organized for that time.” He concludes. 

I sink into my chair just a little and glance at the boys who nod, unexpressive. 

“How does that make you all feel?” I hear myself mutter. Didn’t know I’d be speaking like this. 

Namjoon sits up from his chair, setting his arms on the table, “We’re ready whenever the company is. We, uhm, are in full support of Kanako.” He expresses, which meets agreements from the other members. PD-nim’s mouth parts slightly, nodding slowly. 

“That’s…good to know. Anyway,” He slides us all a piece of paper, “This is an NDA. All of the staff have signed it and we need you all to sign as well. We need utter privacy at this time, nothing that you hear or know in this building leaves it, is that understood?” Before Bang finishes speaking, Yoongi has already reached for a pen and gives a hurried signature. 

He lays back in his seat and his expression still hasn’t moved. The rest follow, the sound of signatures after the other. I grip the pen and give mine as well, with a little hesitation. Maybe it’s the embarrassment of having dragged everyone in this mess with me. 

“Before we wrap up this meeting, there are some notable mentions. The trainees we had here have been moved to various entertainments, just as an added precaution. We as a team expect there will be press covering all grounds of this building and there isn’t any need to have more information leak. As for questions you may get asked, we have asked our publicists to ensure that all will be avoided in future interviews. If there happens to be a time when you do get asked,” He looks over to the boys, “The answer is to not answer. We will handle it.” He purses his lips to create something of a smile. 

He gets up to collect our papers, stuffing them in his folder and placing it on top of his binder. He stays standing, “Since we’ve moved the trainees, there are more dorms available. You boys will be moved to the same unit Kanako resides in. The rooms are more spacious and we’ve decided to split it up in two, so who is staying in who’s dorm is up to you seven. As for you all in total,” 

His gaze travels to mine, “I urge you all to stick together during this time, including Kanako. It might be helpful for you to have peers to talk to. There may be other meetings as the situation develops, but for right now I encourage everyone to rest.” Ah, the calm before the storm. 

He gives one last bow before leaving the conference room. Once the door has closed and the dust settles, I hear a small voice. 

“Does this mean I can move in with Kanako?” Jungkook whispers. 

FEBRUARY 16TH, 2012, 12:00PM

I hear loud footsteps and the voices of the same boys I was with just outside my dorm. This has been happening for two hours now, and I assumed they were moving into their new dorms. I took these few hours to ease my mind, turning off my phone semi-permanently. I thought it was best I avoid any news outlets or messages from people I went to school with. I’m sure my phone is about to implode with how many texts and missed calls I’m getting. 

Besides, there’s no family members that I need to contact. A painful reminder as I stuff my phone in my junk drawer. I take a deep breath before stepping outside my room, seeing a box toppled over with clothes and various objects pooling the floor. Taehyung and Jimin are bickering in the other dorm, and Jungkook runs outside to see me when he hears my door open. 

“Kanako! Help us!” He begs, and I tilt my head in confusion. He grabs my wrist to lead me inside the dorm, but when I feel his grip I back away aggressively, jerking my hand from his. The notion was too familiar, my spine being sent chills when I remembered his name. Haneul. I know Jungkook didn’t mean any harm, but when I saw, felt, his long fingers on my wrist I went into fight or flight. 

“D-Don’t do that.” I say assertively, rubbing my wrist with my other hand. His expression falls, and I sense he’s at a loss for words. 

The edges of his mouth turn into a gentle smile, “Of course, I’m sorry. Do you-would you like to come in and help us move in?” He asks, gesturing to me to come in. He’s not upset with me? 

I accept his request and caress his arm in reassurance as I step inside. The place is mostly empty, with boxes and tubs on top of each other. Yoongi is on his back, underneath the bunk bed. Jungkook follows and stands next to me, sighing, “He thinks the creaking noise it’s making means it’s broken. He’s been at this for thirty minutes.” 

I laugh and walk over to Yoongi, leaning down so I’m on my hands and knees. I lean my head down to meet with him, looking at him with curiosity. “You know these beds are very, very old. Actually, the one in my dorm is 10 years old, I’ve been told. And it has not collapsed once.” I say. He plops his head down on the carpet, “That’s not a problem when your bed isn’t being slept on by two people.” His voice is slightly muffled. 

I hum, “That’s true. But listen,” I scooch under the small space so we’re lying side by side. The space between us is minimal to none, and if we turn our faces we’d only be inches away from each other. I realize this closeness and in turn, my cheeks flush. “Nothing is going to happen.” I assure him.

He licks his lips and closes his eyes, “It’s better hearing it from your mouth instead of Jungkook’s.” He says, which makes my palms embarrassingly clammy. It also makes me feel like I need to go to the bathroom, badly. But you did not hear that from me. My eyes are hesitant to look at him, but with a leap of faith, I do so anyway. And it feels freeing. I feel like this is how these things are supposed to go. Natural, awkward. 

These feelings are okay to have. As long as you don’t go any further. 

But I think back to last night, when he let me rest my head on his shoulder for what felt like hours. When he saw me after my horrible dinner, mascara down my face and snot dribbling above my upper lip. He’s already seen me. He knows me, he knows what I look like when I’m broken down, vulnerable. Then why is it that I still need a wall between us? Why is it that I feel like I’ve failed when he looks at me the way he’s looking at me right now? 

His almond eyes are almost blurred from the darkness of being underneath this bed, but I can still see him, and he sees me. X-ray vision. He looks down to my lips in a quick motion, and I feel my breath hitch. But I’m leaning over, and so is he. We’re so close to each other, I can feel his breath on my face. It has a hint of mint and something else I assume to be his breakfast.

And I want to be his next meal, in the most wholesome sense of the phrase. 

“Kanako..”

“I love when you say my name.” I confess in the form of a whisper. 

His lips brush mine, before I’m grabbed and dragged from my ankles. I bonk my head on the edge of the bed and look at Taehyung who’s looking at me like a lost puppy. I rub my forehead and close my eyes, unable to process what just happened this past minute. 

“What the fuck..” I groan. My head throbbing. 

Yoongi scooches from under the bed so he’s sitting up next to me, staring at Taehyung with a look I can’t read but it seems like Taehyung can. He stutters, “I-uh, we just…sorry about that, Kanako.” Tae hangs his head low. I try to shake my head but I’m too busy soothing the pain that’s building up in my frontal lobe, surely damaging it. “Uh, it's fine. What is it?”

Taehyung pouts, “Is it true Jungkook is staying with you? And if so, can we all take turns spending the night because I think it’s very unfair that he gets to-”

I interrupt him, “No, he’s not staying with me.” I sigh, “Jungkook!” I call out his name in annoyance. I hear small thuds that turn into louder ones, Jungkook peering from the dorm door. His head peaks in slightly, afraid of being scolded. “I’m sorry but you can’t stay in my dorm, there’s just not enough room! It’s a single.” I say while placing my hand over my heart playfully, emphasizing my pity.

He pouts just like Taehyung, “But maybe you could sleep over here sometimes? Now there’s no excuse for you not to, it’s not like you’re doing anyth-”

“Jungkook.” Yoongi snaps. 

The young boy nods in apology, “Just a couple nights a week?”

I roll my eyes, “A couple nights a week, sure.”

click here to read more of this story!

[highdramas]

the world’s a little blurry | b.b.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: none

word count: 2107

summary: bucky is home, and he is yours

note: this is a one shot for now, but i definitely have more ideas for these two <3 this’ll be heavily inspired by tfatws so this is a spoiler warning for anything mentioned! also this is my first time writing bucky so pleaseeeeee give me some mercy lol

enjoy! <3

it’s nearly three in the morning, and you’re lucky if you stay up past midnight, so bucky makes a point to be quiet as he tiptoes into the apartment. after a mission gone awry in the apartment building where you had been neighbors, you’ve been staying with the superhero. something about not losing you and you’re safest here. bucky’s not stupid— caring about someone is a gamble, and it had become clear to his enemies who exactly it was that he cared about.

living with you came lots of things that bucky was not expecting. first off, you’re very cluttered. you call it controlled chaos, he calls it a mess. he’s fascinated by the state of your night stand, mostly. a dying plant and one loose airpod, two half empty water bottles, an empty starbucks cup.

second off, you have a cat. her name is katherine, but you call her kitty, occasionally kiki. and while bucky had been determined not to get attached, after awhile, it was difficult not to. she rubbed up on his legs, cuddled in his lap on the couch, slept on his chest in the middle of the night. she’s fucking adorable, and not even the winter soldier can deny that.

third off… you. you as a whole. he’s sure that it would’ve been a shock living with anyone, but the care that you give him… he’s not used to having someone making sure he’s eating. he’s not used to someone checking up on him throughout the day. he’s not used to having someone to come home to.

it’s nice.

it feels safe.

and he’ll kill anyone who tries to take this peace away from him.

bucky groans as he shucks his jacket off, feeling exactly where his muscles ache. he tries to keep his volume minimal. finally, he opens the door to the bedroom. the bedroom that you share.

this was the biggest adjustment of all.

he’d barely slept in a bed at all before you came along. too soft, too comfortable. he told you as much that first night, and what you had said shocked him.

“well, i’ll just sleep on the floor with you.”

no, oh, just get in bed. no, c’mon, it’s nice. none of those things. just understanding.

but it was more than understanding. it was meeting him exactly where he was.

that was three months ago, and you had kept your word. if you weren’t sleeping on the floor with him, you were on the couch with your hand tangling down, brushing along his hair, his shoulder. every time he felt you bucky swore that he could cry.

it was two months ago that he suggested you both sleep in the bed. and while it wasn’t every night, and some nights he padded out to the living room with a blanket and pillow… it was progress.

and he would wake up to find that you had joined him on the floor.

the nightmares weren’t gone. he’s not sure if they ever would be. but they were growing few and farer between, and the ones he did have were growing more manageable.

things were getting better.

of course, they were not perfect. and he knew that you didn’t expect them to be. he has therapy once a week, sometimes twice during the particularly hard weeks. he’s grown close with sam and his family. and… you.

his girl.

as the door creaks open, he almost chuckles at the sight of you. you’re laying horizontally across the bed, taking up both your side and bucky’s. katherine is curled in at your chest, her nose nearly touching yours. your mouth is open and he can see that there’s a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth, and that does make him laugh. it stirs you and he freezes.

bucky watches as you slowly wake, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and then rubbing the drool from your mouth. “ew,” you mumble, still half asleep, and bucky leans in the doorway wearing a smirk.

“go back to sleep, doll.”

you hum and stretch, and so does katherine, giving a wide yawn. “you’re home.”

home.

had he ever had a home before? 

he did once, as a child. a time that feels so distant, so separate from the life that he leads now. sometimes, it’s hard to even picture the faces of his family members.

he had this apartment, but it never felt like home. not until you waltzed into it with your clutter and your laughter and your vibrancy. not until you cooked dinner hip to hip, not until you listened to music that he had never heard of, not until you watched some movie that was your favorite.

you’re home.

bucky smiles and he nods, sitting on the edge of the bed, pushing your hair back. “i’m home,” he says quietly. “i’m sorry i’m so late.”

you shake your head, your hand taking his. he still wears the gloves. you raise your eyebrows at him. “can i?”

he nods. you make quick work of removing each of his gloves, tossing them across the room, which makes bucky smile. he knows he’ll be picking those up in the morning. you press a kiss to his palm, the one that is flesh and bone. and then you take the other and do the same. “missed you, buck.”

something in his heart constricts as he watches you-- washed in moonlight that comes in through the window, sleepy smile on your face, eyes fixed on him. he knows that look, and he knows what it means. he doesn’t know if he deserves it, but he tries. he’ll always try for you.

“i wasn’t even gone twenty four hours,” the smirk is evident in his tone even if you can’t see it, but you scoff and roll your eyes. “i think you’re needy.”

“needy!” you repeat and laugh, falling back onto the pillow. kitty stirs and looks up at bucky, letting out a loud meow. “she’s the needy one. look at her.”

“both of you.” he scratches kitty’s head and then kisses the top of yours before he stands again. “i’m gonna shower.”

sleep is escaping you and you push yourself up onto your palms. “can i join you?”

he chews on the inside of his cheek and shrugs his shoulders innocently. “better pick up the pace then, soldier.”

with a laugh, you kick the sheets off of you. “yes sir.”

he rolls his eyes and you both shuffle into the bathroom. now, in the light, you’re able to get a good look at him. and your jaw drops slightly at what you see. “bucky,” you say and he already knows what’s coming. you touch the side of his face where a bruise is blossoming. “how the hell does this even happen?”

“part of the gig.”

you groan and he smiles and he does so because he loves you. he loves your mess and he loves your doting, he loves your cat and he loves coming home to see that you’ve taken up the entire bed. “you’re an old man. one of these days you’re gonna have to retire.”

“got unfinished business first.”

you know of his past. of course you do. although, you’re a firm believer that it’s not his past, rather than a past that was decided for him against his will. you’ve made a point of making your stance in that clear. you have heard stories of what bucky has done, but you have tutted and shaken your head. “what hydra did.”

these are the things that bucky tells himself, but it is different to hear it from someone else. someone who is not steve, or sam, or another avenger who has also committed morally grey acts. because, yes, they are all good and trustworthy and worth listening to-- but you. you are his girl. you are his girl who laughs at his jokes and teases him and never once babies him for what happened to him, but you’re also the girl who has woken him from nightmares, who has tended to his wounds, who has been held back from a fight just to defend his honor. you have seen him in his entirety, and you have never balked.

“alright, well--” it’s not lost on you how his eyes trail down your body as you undress, turning on the water and checking the temperature. “as soon of this business of yours is finished…”

“i know.”

the two of you share a look and he gives a crooked grin. “you look nice.”

“there’s dried drool on my face.”

“yeah, i know.”

it’s been nearly a year since you met james buchanan barnes and yet he still gets you to blush. he practically lights up at the sight of the color on your cheeks. “are you--”

“shut up and get in the shower,” you retort, pulling back the curtain and stepping into the steaming water.

“yes, ma’am.” you hear the shuffling of his clothes falling to the floor and then he is behind you, hands going up and down your arms. you let out a sigh and tilt your head back, peering up at him. water trails down his nose, dripping off and onto your forehead.

you don’t tell bucky, but you do worry. you worry every second that he’s gone on a mission. you know that you don’t have to say it, that he knows. and you trust that he will come home to you. bucky turns you and he holds your face in his hands and he presses his lips to yours and you know that he feels the same way.

i’ll always come back is spelled out in the way that he kissed you, the way that he holds the back of your head. we have forever is heaved from your lungs as he sucks the air from you.

when you part, you smile at his lips-- slightly swollen, pinker than normal. you rub your thumb along the bottom one and he catches your hand. he presses it on his chest, right where his heart hides beneath skin and bone. “you don’t have to do all of this to make up for what they did to you,” you say over the sound of water. “you’re allowed to have a normal life, if you want it.”

“i know.” he pushes a piece of wet hair from your face. “i just don’t--” he shakes his head and you know this all too well-- he doesn’t quite know what to say, he starts closing up and off and away, the high walls that guard his heart and mind beginning to take shape. “i feel like if i don’t… what was it all for?”

delicate hands move across his torso. you lather up a loofah and begin washing away blood and grime. “bucky,” you say and he looks at you, steely blue eyes staring right into yours. “you make people happy. you have people who love you, who care for you. you don’t owe the world reparations.”

he winces as you go over a particular bruise and you slow your movements, make them featherlight. “all i know is,” you begin. “whatever it is you want, whatever it is that fulfills your life… make sure it’s for you.”

a smile curls on his face and he stills your hands. “thank you.” he takes the loofah from you. “let me get you.”

“but i’m not done--”

“please. let me.”

you surrender and he begins to wash you, and your forehead falls to his shoulder, calm washing over your body. you could’ve been standing there for minutes or hours, you’re unsure. he pushes your hair back and at some point you realize that he is washing your hair, and you press gently open mouthed kisses against his chest and you hear his breath catch and you fall in love with him all over again.

“let me get yours--” you mumble around a yawn and you watch as he smirks down at you. “really, let me.”

bucky shakes his head and he turns the water off. “tomorrow,” he says.

you towel off and when you clamber into bed, you feel the weight of him beside you, your cat nestled between the both of you. you feel him pull you into him, his breath against your neck and his lips against your pulse point, and your eyes flutter shut. before sleep captures you, you murmur, “i love you, james bucky barnes.”

the feeling of his smile against your skin is imprinted on your heart, and his words coax you into sleep-- “i love you too, doll.”

bucky barnes sleeps through the night and doesn’t wake once.

[etherealeeknow]

the fwb rules

• rated m for mature

• pairing: fwb!hyunjin x fem!reader

• wc: 4.559

• tw: explicit language, light characterization of an insecure reader, unprotected piv sex (stay safe, lovelies!), fingering & oral (f), nipple play, cream pie— i think that’s all, please do tell me if you find more c:

• note: last time i said long fic isn’t my forte and this time i’ll still say the same hahahahaha. but still, i hope i don’t disappoint 🥺 please kindly note that english isn’t my first language. therefore, i apologize for any mistakes. feedbacks are always appreciated because i’d love to grow! thank you for waiting and enjoy 💞 pretty banner made by my bestie!! ilysm 😽😽😽

• tag list: @charlieshelves @es-kay-zee @formidxble @oh-my-sparkle @bobateastay @http-hyxnjxn @lyralurexrattle @hyunsluvv @healinghyunjin @sailorhyunjinz

—

what happened to the rules?

it didn’t start off like this. you can’t remember when exactly you started wondering about the five word question. all you know is that you were one bite away from gobbling a spoonful of jisung’s ice cream when it struck you: since when did you and hyunjin stop going by the rules? he’s been occasionally texting you out of the blue lately just to know what you’re up to, and today he even asked you to stay the night at his, and as much as you want to believe they’re all normal, again, it didn’t start off like this. from the beginning, you and hyunjin have come up with three rules so your relationship can work: one, be very casual. two, no strings attached. three, no fucks given outside of the, well, literal fucking. but look at you now, lying naked and out of breath under his blanket while facing his ceiling, driving yourself insane over the haunted question. you have to get it off your chest somehow, but how? 

“hey, why so serious?” asks the culprit behind your overthinking, causing you to jump slightly over his sudden appearance and your hands instinctively pull up the blanket to cover your naked chest, which as a result, makes him chuckle. cute. “here. it’s my cousin���s,” adds the topless man as he sits on the edge of the bed and hands you a white shirt that even under the dim light, you can already tell won’t fit you.

“your cousin? the model? hyunjin, she’s tiny,” you utter, hands still gripping onto the blanket. “i’m—“

“you,” he cuts you off, placing a hand on top of yours while carefully glancing at you to make sure you there aren’t any signs of discomfort. “are fine, y/n. now hurry up. i’m sleepy,” he adds before letting go, leaving behind a lingering warmth on your knuckles.

nodding, you turn your back on him to change, and the room falls silent, causing you to hear how fast your heart is thumping even more than it should have. is it because you had too much coffee this morning? or it can probably be because the shirt is too tight that it’s cutting off your air circulation, right? right, of course. you tell yourself because as much as you dislike both reasons, they are still far better than having hyunjin as the cause.

once you’re done, hyunjin already has his back lying against the bedhead, his head tilting slightly to the side, avoiding the light coming from the night lamp on the bedside table, while his eyes bore deeply into yours. unbothered that he’s been caught staring, he averts his gaze downwards till they reach your chest and spot how your nipples are sticking out through the thin fabric.

“see? it fits you just fine,” he says, turning his vision back to your face as he opens his arms and motions them at you, only to have you remain in the same position with your increasing heartbeat.

“aren’t you gonna, uh, wear something?”

instead of a proper answer, all you get is his laugh—hyunjin’s contagious laugh that usually always succeeds in making you laugh too. but today hits differently. has his laugh always sounded this lighthearted before? no matter what the answer is, one thing for sure is that despite how sweet hwang hyunjin and his laugh are, they have never made your cheeks burn like this before, and this is forbidden. it’s against the rules.

“an hour ago we were naked while sucking each other’s face, y/n,” he finally answers after a while. “besides, i always sleep like this. now, come on,” he adds, repeating the same gesture, except this time his hands are open wider, eager to have you near him again because the space around him is starting to make him feel lonely.

complying with him, you fall into his embrace and hyunjin immediately lets his hands travel to the exact places of where they want to be—one around your head and the other around your waist. despite the room turning less cold with his warmth directly passing onto you, your heart and cheeks conditions remain the same especially since you can hear how hyunjin’s heartbeats are beating just as fast as yours when he lets you lay your head on his chest.

“hyunjin,” you call out, hands fiddling with the collar of your shirt.

“y/n,” he replies, replacing the collar with his fingers instead, intertwining them with yours.

what happened to the rules?

“do... do fwb do these?” you ask, the bravery in you finally decide to show up, even just for a little.

“do this?” he asks back while squeezing your hand with all his might, as if he’s nervous.

no. not ‘this’, but ‘these��. not only the hand grabbing, but also the fact that he asked you to stay the night, that he’s cuddling you to sleep, and that you’ve been getting unusual symptoms over them until this very moment.

“yes, this,” you nod and hyunjin becomes muted, but his heartbeats are growing louder, and his grip on you has become tighter.

after what feels like forever, he whispers, voice slightly cracking, and hands getting a little colder, “yes. yes, they do.”

then the two of you become muted, but both heartbeats keep growing louder, and everything stays that way until sleep eventually takes over.

—

as a homebody, you’ve always against the idea of sleepovers. you believe home is the sweetest place and your own bed is the comfiest even when your mattress is older than a decade and your favorite plushie has had too many holes here and there. but waking up in hyunjin’s bed has broken your stigma—never in your whole life that you’d have thought someone else’s bed can provide you twice the comfort.

“looks like someone had a good sleep,” chirps jisung as he sits beside you, causing you to wipe off the smile on your face before going back to your laptop.

“wow suddenly my best friend’s a psychic?”

“hey, that’d actually make a great drama title!” he exclaims and you roll your eyes. “please do spill the tea though. what happened?” he adds.

“what happened?” you ask back, eyes still on the screen, but the corner of your lips are on the verge of breaking into the smile, knowing full well he’ll complain—which he does by lamely calling you a meanie.

laughing, you tell him nothing happened, but the way he rolls his eyes is a sign he’s not taking any of your bullshit. you are telling the truth though. besides spending the night with each other, nothing really happened, right? it was just another casual fucking session. yes, it was amazing, but that’s no news for jisung. the guy’s practically your wingman—setting you up with hyunjin was his idea because he believes you should, “live your life. have that dreamy college sex orelse you’ll regret it like my old man changbin!”

right on cue, a notification popped out on your big screen, and the sender’s name makes your heart pop too.

“aha, see!” jisung points at it. “y/n, where are you?” he reads out loud, earning yourselves all the eyes from every other student in class.

“oh my god, jisung. shut up!” right when you’re about to log out from the chat app, hyunjin sends another one.

“can i call you?” jisung reads once more and you’re only one second away from smacking his head, but your vibrating phone holds you back.

shooting jisung a glare, you make sure to close your laptop before leaving the class, answering hyunjin’s call even when you’re still half way through the door. right when you’re about to greet him hello, hyunjin beats you to it—his voice a bit raspy, but the softness in his tone still lies within, and it creates endless questions in your mind.

has he just woken up? so is this how he sounds in the morning? why is he calling?

and the list goes on because this isn’t like hyunjin at all. sure, he’s not validating the rules, but he’s breaking his character despite already alarming you to anticipate morning booty calls from him at times. he’s never actually done that though. 

“hi,” you reply, startling yourself with how small your voice came out.

“you left,” says hyunjin and you can hear him sighing from the other line, which somehow causes a slight pang in your heart, wondering if perhaps he is disappointed. “can you come back? wait, actually, let me go to you instead.” he says and you can hear the rustling sounds coming from his side.

“hyunjin, i have class. that’s why i left. i—” should you apologize? but why should you? casual, no strings attached, and no fucks given, remember? “i’m sorry.”

“oh.” hyunjin stops on his track before plopping back down onto the bed, smiling. “i’ll pick you up after class then. when will you finish?”

unconsciously, a smile creeps up your face too, but the realization hits you right after, then followed by the five word question, and you know—you know this is your guts telling you that now’s the time to ask him about it, but your heart hates confrontation. plus, wouldn’t it be rude to reply to someone else’s question with a question? “hyunjin, are you, uh, horny?”

just like yesterday, hyunjin laughs, and with the raspiness in his voice still present, he doesn’t fail to make you laugh along, but at the same time waking the butterflies in your stomach and makes you rethink your decision. mayhaps, you should’ve left him a note or told him that you’ll leave early in the morning; or even, you should’ve ditched classes today and stayed so when he wakes up, you can get him a glass of water, not leaving the boy uncared for like this. but who are you to do so? 

“isn’t it normal for a guy to have a morning wood?” he jokes before quickly adding that he’s not horny. “i just want to see you so let me go get you.”

pressing your lips together, you contemplate on whether you should let him. if you do, won’t you be turning whatever the two of you have right now into something far more complicated? but it’s only until hyunjin adds a desperate “please?” that all of your dilemma disappears, as if you’re being cast into his spell—“okay.”

—

while heading to the gate, you have the biggest urge to book a massage appointment. dodging jisung’s questions and running away from him after the first period was draining, but having to spend the day running back and forth between two buildings because thinking that volunteering as the lecturers’ teaching assistant was draining on a whole new level. other than feeling like your legs are gonna come off, your mind also feels like it’s gonna blow off—you can’t stop recalling all the things you need to start working on as soon as possible, but stepping into hyunjin’s car turns everything to 180 degrees.

you’d like to think that it’s because of the faint lavender aroma coming from his car freshener along with the heavenly cool air conditioner, but no. you know full well it’s because of the way hyunjin’s smile lit up, his eyes disappear into two small crescent moons, and his blonde hair which is becoming one with the warm orange sky that brings peace to your heart.

“hi,” he breathes out the moment you close the door, and you do the same except for looking at him, which causes hyunjin to furrow his eyebrows while speeding away.

the way home is silent, just the way you like it, but you know full well that it’s not hyunjin’s cup of tea. he doesn’t need to say it, his action is showing it all as he’s been fidgeting non stop, wiping his sweaty palm along his jeans while occasionally licking his plump lips. hyunjin’s a very vocal person. he’s talkative and loud—including in bed. you press your warm cheeks over the realization of your own thoughts, embarrassed. you can’t possibly suspect hyunjin for being horny in the morning when you yourself are being like this in the afternoon. it’s uncalled for.

noticing you from the corner of his eye, hyunjin calls out, asking you if there’s anything wrong, totally catching you off guard. what should you say? lying is not your forte, but being honest clearly isn’t the best option right now, at least, not before you shower and appear presentable in front of him—but wait, since when did that matter so much? a few months ago, you even fucked after you ran a marathon.

“y/n?” calls hyunjin for the second time.

“look, hyunjin, really, it’s okay if you’re horny. you can pull over and i can, uh, relieve you and i can just take the bus home after,” you spit out shamelessly while looking at him straight in the eyes, eager to get far away from hyunjin as fast as possible before you go out of your mind.

just like the night before, hyunjin laughs. and just like the night before, his laugh hits differently and it does nothing other than burning your already burnt cheeks for the worse.

“i swear to god, y/n, i’m not horny. i genuinely want to take you home. nothing more,” explains hyunjin, head straight at the road but eyes repeatedly stealing glances at you. “and nothing less,” he adds, voice barely audible but you caught it.

“o— oh.” is all you manage to respond before the ride quickly turns quiet and hyunjin’s hands begin fidgeting again, all the while you’re trying to decode what he has just said—what does he mean by genuinely wanting to take you home? do fwb do this too? what happened to no fucks given?—and it goes on until hyunjin hits the break in front of your old apartment building.

“we’re here,” says hyunjin, breaking the silence by unlocking the car door.

“we’re here,” you repeat after him, already opening the door and setting a foot out. “uh, thank you.”

“don’t mention it.” hyunjin shoots you his signature smile the moment you lower yourself to meet his eye level from outside the car; this time, you have no choice but to fall under his spell.

“hey, uh, you wanna come in?” you ask, biting your lower lip as a way to punish yourself for being so indecisive. one second you want to run away from him and the next second you want to be near him. come on, get a grip.

as if the punishment isn’t enough, hyunjin declines your offer, all while chuckling with his head thrown back. “for the third time, y/n. i’m not horny. go in and rest up.” 

“if you say so.” you shrug, giving him a small smile before turning around, making sure not to look back, only to fail when you hear the engine driving away.

—

you can’t quite tell—no, you can’t tell. you don’t get it. there’s an unexplainable empty space in your heart that is caused by hyunjin’s rejection. is it because you’re just not used to see him without having to fuck him? or is it because you’re hurt over the fact that he’s not in the mood to touch you? is it because of last night? is he finally sick of your flaws? things would probably be different if you had retouched your makeup or at least combed your hair before seeing him, would they? either way, you’re fully aware you shouldn’t be torn over your friend with benefits, yet your aching heart says otherwise.

and so when the doorbell rings only a few seconds after you get in and the figure you see through the peephole is no other than the man in question, you spare no time to swing the door open. hyunjin, in return, spares no time to lock his lips with yours right after he utters a brief apology. just like the way hyunjin sneaks his playful hands down your ass, you sneak your tongue in his mouth, and your action makes him smile into the kiss as he leads you back into the room and kicks the door shut with his long legs.

the way to your bedroom is actually pretty short, but with your tongues moving in sync, bodies pressing—glued, even, and eyes continuously closing in pleasure, the short way to your bedroom consists of endless stumbling, tripping, and bumping the door. once inside, you break the kiss and are about to undress yourself when hyunjin beats you to it, settling you down on the bed as he begins taking off your attire one by one ever so effortlessly. and in just a matter of seconds, his lips are back on yours again, floral scented hair falling and brushing against your cheeks, leaving you no time to wonder over the fact that it’s the first time hyunjin has ever undressed you. 

as the kiss continues, you can feel yourself gushing more and more that you start grinding on him mindlessly, needing to feel more than just his bulge poking you. your hands leave his blonde strands to tug on his hoodie, only to have him stop you—one hand around your grip and the other rests on your hip.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

“need you. need to feel you,” you mumble, desperation so visible through your cracked voice. 

“what happened to the girl who was all flustered to sleep with me last night just because i was shirtless?”

autumn nights aren’t supposed to be hot, but hyunjin has proven he has the power to make the impossible happen just with his words and mocking smirk. but the rising heat on your cheeks is nothing compared to the emptiness you feel below, clenching around nothing surely isn’t the best feeling.

“please, jinnie,” you whine, tugging on his hoodie once more, hips moving against his hold.

“fuck.” is all he manages to say before getting off the bed to disrobe himself—hoodie and track pants thrown across the room, now showcasing his toned body and thighs altogether as he hovers over you.

“please take this off too. it looks suffocating,” you say, index finger running faintly through the bulge forming from his tight boxer, making it stand up even more and hyunjin has no choice but to obey you. “put your hair up too please,” you add just when he’s about to dive right back in, and again, your wish is his command.

biting to pull off his hair tie from his wrist, hyunjin smoothly ties his hair back and you’re only given a few seconds to admire his feature before his plump lips coming in contact with your hardened nipple while he toys with the other using his fingers—rubbing and pinching, making your breath hitch over the sensation, fingers digging into his bare shoulders because you don’t want to mess up his hair, and hyunjin’s low grunts pretty much indicate he’s loving it.

“more, please. give me m—”

hyunjin retreats his hand and tongue away from your breast, moving them to your naked pussy,  drawing circles on your outer labia with his middle finger. he teases you just enough and quickly slides in his digit and at the same time sucks on your clit right before you’re about to complain, making you tingle from head to toe.

“you hear that?” he asks, voice muffled, the effect of being too tongue tied from licking every part of your heat, but finger working its magic perfectly, creating loud wet noises from your fluid. “drenched. my pretty y/n is drenched,” says hyunjin, and as much as you want to comment on him for the pet name, you’re too caught up on how his lips vibrate against you the moment he starts palming himself with his unoccupied hand. if he keeps it up, you know you would come undone there and then, and you don’t want that—not yet. so you ask him to stop and he instantly does as told.

“what’s wrong? did i hurt you?” there’s fear written across his expression and heard from his tone, but you’d like to believe your eyes and lips are just playing tricks on you.

“n— no. i just,” you pause to avoid his gazes, but something within you pulls your attention back on him. “i wanna cum with you inside me,” you confess, voice barely audible due to embarrassment; all this time, it’s always been hyunjin to say such things, but perhaps, all the strange tension lately has finally gotten the best of you. you hear him mutter a low “fuck” while his pupils shakes for a brief moment before they somehow appear a shade darker. licking his lower lip, hyunjin pulls you by your legs and rests them on his shoulders, and proceeds to align his tip with your entrance, once again teasing your throbbing core.

the moment you whine is the moment hyunjin pushes himself inside ever so gently, but the stretching still has you throwing your head back, while hyunjin letting our airy moans upon your walls clenching around him. none of you can tell how it’s possible for your vagina to remain so tight after all the countless fucking session for the past half year, but hyunjin doesn’t find that troubling. in fact, he lives for that and it shows from the way his eyes roll to the back of his head as he begins thrusting in and out of you—slowly but steady, veiny hands secured on your hips, vision goes back and forth from your half-lidded eyes to your parted lips.

hyunjin leans down to kiss you for a couple of seconds, and when he lets go, he quickens his pace—leaning down once more so his length can go deeper in you, hitting your g-spot. at that very moment, you mentally praise yourself for placing the bedroom mirror right across the bed. it presents you with the magnificent view of hyunjin’s rounded, firm ass bouncing rhythmically whenever he snaps his hips, and placing your hands around them, squeezing them, nearly makes you drool over the sight. with hyunjin constant thrusts, the familiar knot in your abdomen starts to bubble up.

“oh my god,” the two of you whimper in unison as hyunjin begins to lose his tempo, moves also grow sloppy, but never once misses your spot.

“y/n, i— ah— i’m so close. fuck,” he breathes out, sweat forming on his forehead, wetting his baby hair down to his neck and chest, and you can only drool helplessly at the sight.

“me too. please cum inside me, cum with me, hyunjin, please, please,” you beg, voice a pitch higher, almost sounds like you strain your throat, and it stays the same. when you feel hyunjin twitch inside you, your hands automatically reach for the bed sheet again, but it only lasts for a second before they’re being taken by hyunjin’s own hands—he has never done this. while intertwining your fingers, his cock twitches again and his eyes roll to the back of his head, jaw falls open as he calls out your name—you naturally do the same, fingers pressing flat against his white knuckles

“hyu—”

“cum, baby,” he cuts you off, averting his hazy eyes on you, and that’s all it takes for you to break—your orgasm washes over you like waves and you cum undone around hyunjin, shaking and mewling altogether while feel the wet coldness around your inner thigh. hyunjin follows right after, shooting his hot cement inside of you; the man can no longer keep his eyes open as he buries his face on the crook of your neck, his choked moans bring music right to your ear all a while his hot breaths bring goosebumps to your unrecovered body.

after riding out your highs, none of you move. hyunjin stays on top of you, his chest rises and falls according to your hard breathing. somehow, it’s calming you down, but it shouldn’t.

“hyunjin, you’re heavy.”

“oh, sorry,” he chuckles and even without looking, you can tell his eyes are smiling too. with his remaining strength, hyunjin pushes himself up and rests on your thighs to pull his dick out of you, momentarily admiring the mixture of his juice and yours dripping down your cunt before fixing his eyes on you to study your face—also something he has never done before. 

“i’m sorry,” he mutters a few moments later, eyes now on you.

tilting your head, you sit up, resting your upper body with your hands on the bed. “all of a sudden? i came? you always make me feel good.”

“that’s what i’m sorry about. i— i didn’t mean to— i mean, i—”

you reach out to him, gently patting his thigh. “hyunjin, calm down. this isn’t like you,” you whisper the last sentence, knowing that perhaps, now’s the time to talk things out, to stop whatever is going on, and go back to how things are used to be, maybe? your heart’s just been restless for too long and apparently, hyunjin seems to be in a similar situation too.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to keep using you like this. i genuinely meant what i said. i only wanted to take you home, but we ended up here and—”

“isn’t that what fwb do?” you pull your hand off his thigh, and a frown painted across his face as if he’s questioning your question. “that’s what we agreed on. we have our fwb rules, remember?”

“one, be very casual. two, no strings attached. three, no fucks given outside of the, well, literal fucking,” says hyunjin, proving he has memorized every words to the back of his mind.

nodding, you carefully bring back your hand to his thigh, repeating the same movement you did before. “exactly. so you don’t have to be sorry. don’t worry, i’m not feeling used at all.” you end it with a smile.

hyunjin mirrors you, he smiles too; his eyes fall to where your hand is. “but what if i’m breaking them? the rules,” asks the boy whose cold hand is now on top of your warm one. “what if i like you?” his eyes find their way back to you, and that’s when you know. the difference between your temperatures; the difference between your smile and his—the sadness that lies within.

that’s when you understand. everything finally makes sense; every one of hyunjin’s unusual acts. the constant texts and calls, the undressing, the pet names, the facial expression, the hand holding.

what happened to the rules? feelings. that’s what happened. to hyunjin, it’s his feelings over the rules.

but you, what about you? the butterflies, the irregular increasing heartbeats, the flushing cheeks, the overthinking, the disappointment at some point.

“y/n,” hyunjin calls out and you don’t get to get back to him because he’s already an inch away from you, momentarily eyeing your lips before he closes the distance. once again, his blonde hair falls down, brushing against his cheek before meeting yours and it tickles you, but not in the same way as how his kiss tickles your heart; giddy.

what happened to the rules? unwanted feelings. that’s what happened. to you, it’s the unwanted feelings against the rules. and for now, the unwanted feelings are too strong for you to push him away, so you pull him close instead. for now.

—

gen’s masterlist

repeating this!! special note: HUGE THANK YOU for my awesome bestie for the banner 🥺💞💞 ily, bish!! thank you for being my beta reader too 😽😽😽

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Prompt idea: Geralt gets a contract for a monster that has been sighted nearby. When he tracks it down, he is surprised to find mothman!Jaskier who (much like actual mothman) has an ass that won’t quit.

?

I just want you to know that Mothskier now lives in my head rent free 24/7. I love him. I would die for him. This is my new favorite emotional support au.

2k-ish words - please feel free to shove comments through the bars of my enclosure, I would really like that

art by the ever-wonderful @mawbwehownets, whose drawing of Mothskier made me legit cry.

tw: mild injury, brief blood mention, strangers to lovers

---

“So what you’re saying,” Geralt raises an eyebrow slowly, curious, “Is that you need me to catch a monster that’s half man and half moth?”

“Yup.”

“Alright,” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. The frustrated Witcher takes a slow breath to calm and center himself, before he ends up botching the entire contract-writing process. Humans tend to grow attached to the strangest monsters sometimes, and apparently this mysterious local being was no different. “Let me get this totally straight, so there are no mistakes or misunderstandings. You want me to capture this man-moth and get it out of your woods, but you don’t want me to kill it?”

“He’s called the Mothman, and he’s pretty damn stubborn about sticking around,” the aging farmer corrects Geralt with a little frown. Then his expression shifts and he smiles in a way that seems almost apologetic. “We were hoping you could find a way to relocate him without hurting or killing him, Master Witcher.”

“That’s completely possible, if he isn’t attached to this specific patch trees by any magical or biological means. You said his natural habitat is just… the forest?”

“As long as there's an abundance of pine around he seems pretty happy. Before he came to live with us, Mothman lived in a heavily forested area up the coast; or at least that’s what the historical records and local mythology seem to indicate.”

“That’s actually pretty helpful information to have on hand, I’m impressed,” Geralt nods. “Alright, Mr. Stevens. I promise to relocate the poor thing without killing or maiming him, and I’ll be sure to take him somewhere far enough away that your crops won’t be in danger. Thanks for calling me first instead of just going straight to an extermination service.”

“Honestly, Master Witcher,” the farmer sighs and readjusts his dirty baseball hat, “If it weren’t for the mischief he’s been getting into lately, we would have let him stick around until spring. I hate to admit it to a man as strong and stern-faced as yourself, but the poor creature is almost… adorable at times.”

“Well that’s a first,” Geralt chuckles, honestly amused by the situation he’s found himself in. “A monster being referred to as ‘adorable’ rather than ‘terrifying’. I’ve never heard such a thing in my many years of life.”

“Then you’d better prepare yourself, Sir Geralt. He’s got a pair of big blue puppy-dog eyes that’ll knock you on your ass if you aren’t careful. And that’s coming from a man who raised three daughters with dimples.”

“Hmm. Fuck.”

---

Geralt knows enough about moths to come up with a plan he thinks will work.

Before he heads into the woods to find and capture the poor wandering creature, the Witcher takes a detour through the lighting section of the nearest Lowe’s.

---

Unfortunately for Geralt, the farmer was right about the power of Mothman’s puppy dog eyes, which are big and blue and begin to water as soon as the Witcher’s net knocks him to the ground. The creature lies in a whimpering tangle of limbs beneath the heavy, magically enhanced restraints. Geralt takes an opportunity to look at what the locals called "a cryptid".

Mothman has a long, lithe body that's covered in a light layer of grey-brown fur, but his hair resembles that of a human’s, falling over those enormous blue eyes in a lovely chestnut fringe. When Mothman sees the swords on Geralt’s back he cries out in panicked recognition and tries to pull his arms up far enough to shield his face. The lamp Geralt used to lure him into the clearing is still bathing him in a pool of yellow light; it’s almost pretty for a monster, Geralt notes.

As the Witcher takes a step forward, the cryptid squeaks and buries his face against his own shoulder. His entire frame is trembling.

“Hey there, shhhhh,” the Witcher murmurs quietly. He drops into a squat and holds both hands up to show Mothman that they’re weapon free. Tears are now falling freely down the creature’s surprisingly human face; whoever or whatever this is, they are likely some kind of Fae. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to get you back through the veil.”

“Liar,” Mothman huffs. His voice has a surprisingly musical quality to it and Geralt is now sure of his Fae parentage (or grand-parentage).

“I promise I’m not lying,” Geralt reassures him, slowly crawling forward. When he reaches for the nearest corner of the net, he feels all of Mothman’s muscles go tense. “I’m going to lift this up and I am going to restrain you, but I swear that I’m not going to kill you. I wish to cause as little distress as possible. Is that alright, Mothman?”

The creature hisses and yanks his foot back away from where Geralt’s hand had nearly touched it. “Jaskier.”

“Hmm?” Geralt glances up, raising an eyebrow.

“My name is Jaskier,” the Fae repeats, glaring up from between the sections of woven rope that make up the heavy net. “Not Mothman.”

“My apologies, Jaskier,” Geralt bows his head. He words his introduction carefully, in case this thing can manipulate his name like others of his kind: “You may refer to me as Geralt.”

“That’s your real name,” Jaskier states. The Witcher’s head snaps up.

“How did you know?”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sticks his tongue out as he mimics the sound Geralt made earlier. “Not telli-AH! Stop! Oh go- gods, stop! Please!”

Geralt drops the short section of rope he’s trying untangle from around Jaskier’s ankle and snaps his eyes upwards, already searching for damage. “What’s wrong!?”

“My wing!” Jaskier bawls. His scent spikes out through the clearing, sharp with panic and pain. The creature’s chest begins to shake more violently than before, his shoulders shuddering with the rising force of his sobs, “It’s t-t-torn! Oh gods, my wing! Sir Witcher, p-please!”

Geralt freezes, his gaze settling on the torn section of Jaskier’s large, furry wing. It’s a nasty wound near one of the joints, a faint trickle of barely-luminescent blood has already dried around the edges. Jaskier tries to flutter it a little and screams in agony when the muscles shift too suddenly, shrilly enough that Geralt needs to cover his hypersensitive ears. The Witcher's heart crashes down into his boots; based on the way the shivering Fae has gone pale and silent, the pain is too much for him to process. He’s gone into shock.

A torn wing is exactly the kind of thing Geralt had promised the farmer (and the collective of townspeople he represented) wouldn’t happen to the peaceful moth creature if they hired a Witcher instead of an exterminator. He sighs and gives the strange being another once-over. “Everything's alright, Jaskier. You’re going to be alright. I’m so, so sorry that you've been wounded. We’ll get you out of this net and get you something for the pain, but it’s going to hurt a little to untangle you. Stay still, don’t struggle, and it’ll be over soon.”

“J-Just kill me,” Jaskier pants. He’s continuing to hyperventilate and Geralt needs him to calm down before he passes out. The Fae reaches a hand for the dagger at Geralt's waist and the Witcher twists out of reach with a frown. Jaskier sobs again, fingers still seeking, “I might n-n-never fly a-again so just k-kill me!”

“Breathe with me, Jaskier,” the Witcher instructs, forgoing patience and cutting through the net with that same dagger. He scoops Jaskier up into his arms, ignoring the keening sound at the back of Jaskier’s throat when his wing is jostled, and rushes the Fae to his truck, tucking him into the passenger’s seat and wrapping him in a large, fluffy blanket. “I’m taking you to my friend. She’s an expert at healing magical creatures and I'm certain that she'll get your wing fixed in no time.”

Jaskier doesn’t give an answer. When Geralt looks up into the creature’s face again, the injured Fae has already passed out.

---

Jaskier moves with all the grace of a newborn foal as he explores the room Geralt has provided for him. His wing has been inspected, treated, and bandaged by a rather scary sorceress named Yennefer, who glared at the Witcher the entire time she was caring for him. She had also taken one of Geralt’s old t-shirts and cut an enormous hole in the back for Jaskier’s wings to fit through. The shirt’s bottom hem falls to the middle of his thighs and the thick black material is softer than anything he’d ever felt before.

He hears a knock on the door and calls out, “It’s open!”

Geralt enters slowly, bearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a mug of tea. “I brought you some last minute supplies and - uh… I brought you some tea. Yen always likes some before she goes to sleep and I figured since this was a new place and new places can be scary that I should-”

“Thank you,” Jaskier interrupts, smiling shyly. His antennae twitch happily as he takes the offerings from Geralt's hands and the Witcher watches them with wide eyes. Jaskier carefully sets the pajamas and the tea on the nightstand before turning back to look at Geralt. “I will… see you tomorrow?”

Geralt gives one sharp nod. “Hmm.”

“Goodnight,” Jaskier sing-songs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as Geralt exits.

From the other side of the closed door, Jaskier’s superior hearing picks up the Witcher’s final whisper: “Goodnight, Jaskier. I will always be sorry for causing you pain.”

The next morning he meets Geralt at the breakfast table, refreshed and ready to learn about the human world. He’s summoned a glamour in order to hide his more Moth-like traits, the only things that remain of his true nature are his wings and antennae; his fur is gone and he’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants and that same old shirt. The Witcher offers him a bowl of fruit and mug of something sweet-smelling. Jaskier glares into the mug with a slight pout to his lips before finally asking, “What is this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

Jaskier takes a sip and his antennae flutter, twitching happily as he swallows the best drink he’s ever had in his long life. He eats a strawberry from the bowl and slowly works his way through the hot chocolate, eyeing Geralt warily as the Witcher moves through the familiar kitchen to make his own breakfast.

“Where is Yennefer?”

“She went home,” Geralt shrugs.

“She isn’t your mate?”

“N-No,” Geralt sputters, turning to stare at the nervous young Fae. “Why would you think that?”

“You smell like each other.”

“We spend a lot of time together,” Geralt shrugs again. “Good friends, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier mimics his host for a second time. Rather effectively by the annoyed twitch at the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Just wondering.”

“Anything else you’re curious about?”

“Why don’t you have more lights?”

“Huh?”

“Lights,” Jaskier gestures around the minimalistic layout of Geralt’s open-concept kitchen/living room and its distinctive lack of lamps. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans forward against the dark marble countertop. The pout has gone from 'slight' to 'full-bore' and Geralt is clinging desperately to his braincell with how cute it looks. “It’s no fun.”

“You really like lamps, don’t you?” the Witcher replies, mouth dry. Jaskier huffs and takes another sip of his hot chocolate, antennae flickering back and forth in irritation. Geralt bites his lip to hide a smile; it’s too fucking cute, which is an odd thought for a Witcher to have.

“So what if I do enjoy a nice lamp or five in my living space?” Jaskier argues. "I'm a Moth of taste."

“No matter,” Geralt laughs quietly. “Finish your drink before it gets cold.”

---

Jaskier stays with Geralt for a few weeks while his wing heals, and for a creature whose sole interest seems to be fancy light fixtures, the Fae becomes a source of light in Geralt's own world. They go to a nonhuman friendly second-hand store to find Jaskier some more clothes and Geralt discovers the cryptid's love for oddly patterned shirts in bright colors. Jaskier chooses several to fill out his closet, as well as a sweater two-sizes too large in deep black (Geralt tries his best not to attach any meaning to this choice), a few pairs of pants, and a jean jacket that he declares, "Can be altered."

They watch movies together and make food together - Jaskier is always incredibly impressed by the way the automatic coffee maker works, and how easily Geralt can control the flames of the stove. Jaskier also follows the Witcher along on less dangerous hunts and helps bandage him up after worse ones, always there with a smile and a little kiss over the cleaned-up wound.

“It really is magic,” Jaskier always insists, lips pink and shining from licking them as he concentrates. "It makes you heal faster."

Geralt realizes one night - two weeks into Jaskier’s stay, as he leans against the doorframe and watches the strange creature’s even breathing - that he has gone and done the stupidest thing a Witcher can do: fall in love with a pretty, temperamental young Fae. Head over fuckin’ heels, actually.

So he makes a decision.

---

The next evening, after the dinner dishes have been cleaned and put away, Geralt herds Jaskier down the hall to the guest room. Those entrancing blue eyes blink up at him in obvious confusion. “Bedtime already?”

“No, not quite. I just- I made you… uh…”

“Do you have a surprise for me?” Jaskier asks, used to the Witcher's issues with verbalizing.

Geralt nods, relieved and thankful for the Fae’s steadfast understanding. “Do you want to cover your eyes or should I just open the door and show you?”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Jaskier smiles, covering his eyes with both hands. Geralt finds it adorable, as Jaskier always is, and allows himself a matching grin as he swings the door open. The ceiling light is off but Geralt has built a blanket fort at the center of the room and surrounded it with fairy lights of all colors and sizes. Inside the blanket fort is a mass of blankets and pillows; Jaskier has the odd habit of building nests - Geralt jokingly calls them cocoons - and sleeping in those on the floor instead of on the very comfortable mattress the Witcher has provided.

“Open them,” Geralt urges.

Jaskier pulls his hands away and Geralt watches as his pupils go huge and wide. Jaskier's face breaks out in the sunniest, most blindingly happy smile Geralt has ever seen. He turns and throws his arms around the Witcher, his wings fluttering behind him and his antennae twitching and flicking above his head. He tries desperately to speak but only manages a half-snuffled little “I’m-” before bursting into tears of joy.

Geralt just holds him, letting his arms fold carefully around Jaskier’s waist, just beneath his wings.

"I just wanted you to know that, if you wanted to stay, there would be room for you. Your room, if you want it."

"I do," Jaskier smiles, burying his face in the Witcher's neck. "I'd love to stay. I'd love nothing more than to spend my days going on adventures with you."

"Well then," Geralt gathers all of his courage and presses a soft kiss to the crown of Jaskier's head. He's met with happy spasms from the antennae so he does it again. And again. Moving from the top of the Fae's head to his cheeks and then his mouth - pretty and pink and pouting and so worth the trouble. "I suppose we can get started on our next adventure tomorrow."

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

checkmate

summary: where y/n and spencer live in a world of soulmates; but how magical can it really be when the last words of your lover are the only indication of their existence.

word count: 7,054                                                                                               reading time aprox: 26 mins

warnings: character death, angst

a/n: this is my comeback fic, I hope you like it. I made sure to make it extra angsty to compensate for my disappearance :) also this fic can be read by anyone!

masterlist

Chess is a meticulous endeavor, not only in its cold and calculated nature, but also in the player’s ability to detect insecurity flash across their opponents' eyes, the unconscious idiosyncrasies that foretell future moves, and the slow descent into hopelessness that disintegrates the former’s conviction. Most will point out the cruelty of the game, how callous it must be knowing your end eight moves before it happens. However, others will oppose this notion as it is the game; one must lose to win.

It’s all a matter of who plays their pieces right.  

Before that pivotal moment, players can only maneuver through a black and white arena. Fingertips would drum in anticipation while the other would hover over their pieces, striding across the board with purpose. Regardless of the disparity between the players’ experience or skill, there is always one factor, unmoved by player attributes, that is not a disadvantage nor luxury for either party: time.  

Even in the checkered plane, nothing will matter. The players will cease to move, forced to end the game by the lack of time. This mechanism in nature acts as a failsafe if either individual is unable to conclude the game. In other words, there are only two outcomes: winning the game by will or letting time take that will away from you.  

However, what is not noticed is the growing ache in the winner’s chest, disappointment beginning to fester inside of them because of their loss in deciding. In that split realization, the winner is placed on an equal plane as the loser, wondering if they ever really won at all.  

This middle plane is beautiful and tragic simultaneously—maybe the beauty is in the tragedy. But as my palm leaves a bloodied handprint pressed against Spencer’s chest, all I can see is the world around me turning red.  

Please be okay, please be okay for me

My mouth would silently mutter in tandem with his desperate and reaching touches, a mantra I convinced myself could surpass time, all while knowing my will was seized from me the moment Spencer uttered the words imprinted at my hip.  

-

October 27th

2 days before  

Water vapor collected around the coffee mug pressed to my lips. Although it’s ironic to call it a ‘coffee’ mug considering it was filled to the brim with scalding tea. The tips of my fingers and the skin of my palms tingled at the heat given off. My thoughts drifted to the explanation of the first law of thermodynamics that Spencer had kindly explained during the walk home from the night before.

  An unconscious smile brushed over my lips briefly, reminiscing the blissful moments of the team gathered around a bar table after finishing up a briefing about a local case. A warm cloud of content passed through my chest while a lightness traveled from the bottoms of my feet to the summit of my forehead. The herbal tea traveling down my esophagus countered the cold nipping of the autumn air, bringing a welcome equilibrium to my wellbeing.  

I shrugged the knitted blanket over my shoulders further, staring into the calming view that the apartment window provided. Across from the building was a small, abandoned park. Most of the neighbors had steered clear of the area as it didn’t meet anyone’s aesthetic standards—well, except for mine. 

 Half of the trees have lost their leaves, counting down the days to winter. The park benches were covered with tangled vines, even some lacking required wood boards. In summary, the place was an overgrown jungle that no one was willing to inhabit. In result, the once communal area was condemned by the normal folk for being ‘too dead.’ However, I would oppose those who claim the lack of life in the park considering life is not only just living, but it is to invite death.  

In my observation of the park, a soft reflection suddenly appeared beside the yellow oak trees. In my peripheral, I can see my roommate creeping up behind me with his limbs moving catlike. I bit my bottom lip to conceal the amused huff threatening to escape me, instead settling to blowing over the steam rising from my cup.  

Just before I saw his head bobble over my shoulder, arms stretched out above me, I whipped around his lanky figure and ducked under his arm. “You know for an agent; I expected a better performance.” An inaudible yelp interrupted the fit of giggles I was in as some of the tea spilled onto my blanket. “Now look what you’ve done! Do you know how hard it is to get dark liquids off cotton?”  

“Just some hydrogen peroxide will do the trick,” Spencer shrugged, insisting to pull off the semi-damp blanket off my shoulders. “Plus, you messed up my bit!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I was living with a five-year-old,” I teased, nudging him.

  Spencer craned his neck to the side, letting the sore tendons and muscles stretch out from just waking up. All without forgetting to let out an obnoxious yawn in addition to his exaggeratedly extended arms. “I’ll have you know that this five-year-old has three PhDs and three bachelors,” he boasted.  

“...and daddy issues.”  

Before I can find a way to defend myself, the same blanket that brought me solace previously was transformed into an unmerciful whip. Spencer chased me around the couch until I slipped and toppled over the cushions, landing on the throw pillows. I buried my head into the leather arm, shutting my eyes, while I replicated the nature of Spencer’s antics by emitting ridiculous snores. 

 “You can’t touch me while I’m sleeping,” I murmured, feigning my slow lull to slumber. “It’s socially unacceptable.” During my spiel, Spencer had playfully grabbed my ankles and dragged me to a sitting position.  

“SPENCER!” I gasped, clutching one of the pillows in hand and smacking him over the head with it. “You do not handle people like that! No wonder why you also have momm-”  

Spencer’s palm gently nudged me back onto the couch mid-sentence, leaving my frame to hit the cushions with a loud thud. A boom of laughter filled the empty space of my chest, my breath thinning as dopamine jumped from my brain’s synapses. An enchanted smile caressed the corners of my mouth mirroring the one Spencer was sporting.  

In these insignificant interactions, I would think back to the times where our comfortability was limited and reveled on how much our friendship grew over the years. There was a sense of solace that overwhelmed me knowing that introducing—and working on his—humor brought an auspicious light to the darkness that often clouded his mind.  

My lungs deflated with a hefty exhale, my arm slinging across my eyes in relaxation. Clamored feet and the rug shifting against the wood floor caught my attention. Freeing my line of vision, I was met with a raggedy-haired genius with barely a foot between us. I reached out to comb through his locks, the webbing of my hands catching the tangled curls. “You need to shower greasehead.”  

“Actually, the buildup of sebum and laloin in the gland of the hair follicles—coined as the sebaceous gland—offers moisture and protection, given that it is regulated upon its natural equilibrium.” Spencer leaned into the soft touch of my fingers, like how a kitten purrs against their owner’s affection.  

“Well, I don’t know about you almost-birthday-boy, but I don’t think you want to go into the next chapter of your life smelling like you just changed out of your first diaper.” I pushed myself up the couch, gesturing Spencer to the hallway bathroom. “This is the big 31!”  

“Y/N, we had a party for my 30th. I think I’m good to last for the decade,” he huffed, walking towards his bedroom to grab a change of clothes.  

“That’s not the spirit, Dr. Reid!” I yelled across the room. “I swear Spence, you’re the only person who’d turn down a party... And, you even turned down Rossi’s invitation to go all out in his backyard.”

“Another year to celebrate the ever-closing gap between my time on earth and my imminent demise—oh, and how can I forget celebrating it in an open space full of ticks and pollen,” Spencer sarcastically jested, his voice bouncing off the thin white walls.  

“At least you’d know your soulmate, right? Then I wouldn’t be the only one to deal with your ‘Debby Downer’ ass,” I added on, rolling my eyes at his usual pessimistic rulings.  

“I would prefer nihilistic, but if that vernacular serves you then to each their own.”

“Hey, maybe after you die, I and your soulmate can mourn over you—bond and all that—and then I can steal them away,” I teased.  

I looked to the lightning bolts etched into the crevices of my thighs, my fingertips tracing each design until it fell onto the carved words at my hip. In a way, the stretch marks made beautiful vines attached to the faded letters, covering the obvious red scratch marks that had resurfaced from my bad habits.  

I kissed my fingertips before planting them back onto the markings, chuckling to myself of the intimate gesture. Unconsciously, I began to rub at the tattooed words once again, hating how their protrusion made my skin crawl.  

“I mean I’m dead, what can I really do?” Spencer called out, stopping in his tracks when he reached the bathroom door. He faced me as he spoke, going on about his birthday celebration tomorrow—half of his speech unheard to me—until he requested my immediate attention. “You have to stop picking at the words, Y/N. You’re going to end up hurting yourself.”  

“I know, I know,” I sighed, letting my dominant hand fall to my side. A pout fell on my lips at the loss of the small satisfaction scratching granted me. “But the words are just so uncomfortable sometimes. I mean you got lucky with the whole soulmate placement.”  

Spencer brought his free hand to his chest, thumb tracing over the small words typed on the skin. “Yeah, I guess I did get lucky huh.” A soft smile grazed over his lips while his eyes were still trained on the unknowing figure resting against the couch.  

“What does your marking read aga-”  

“Spence, what’s it say on your che-”  

I groaned in playful disbelief at the coincidental timing. “You know at this point I’m starting to think we’re telepathic, Spencer.”  

“That’s actually what my tattoo is,” he laughed. “It’s my name.”  

“Oh yeah,” I nodded, remembering the first time we brought it up in the early days of meeting one another. “Must’ve saved a lot of name tags in elementary school” I teased.  

Spencer shook his head, shuffling into the bathroom with a lightness in his steps. With the closing of the door, my gaze fell onto the marking once again. 

 Regardless of the mechanics of soulmates, I was never worried about the possibility of not meeting them. I was already at my happiest knowing shared moments like these were good enough. However, unbeknownst to my ideal wishes, an irking desire still lingered in the back of my head while fingers hovered over the imperfect skin.  

October 28th

1 day before

“Kid, you can’t sit there and tell me that finding your soulmate can be ‘scientifically extrapolated.’ That’s not the point,” Morgan amusingly shook his head at Spencer, ruffling the top of his head as he brushed past him.  

“Okay,” Spencer tutted, “tell me. What ‘is’ the point then?”

“Well, all I’m saying is that finding your soulmate—if you have one—is supposed to come supernaturally.”

“Morgan, did you just try to win over boy genius here by talking about the supernatural?” With a tilted smirk, I nursed the half-filled flute between my fingertips. My gaze flickered over to a pleased brainiac sharing the same mischievous glint found in my eyes. I let my head fall back against the couch cushions, my eyes fluttering close to the sound of grown children bickering. 

 “Alright,” Morgan raised his hands up in defense. “All I was pointing out was that things like these can’t be solved by numbers and science.”  

“The same can be said about Newtonian physics, but look where we a-”  

Morgan flung a ball of crinkled wrapping paper Spencer’s way, aiming for his head. Spencer attempted to dodge the projectile—emphasis on attempted—only to have it hit him square in the face.  

“So much for those Newtonian physics, huh?” I teased while getting up to open another bottle of champagne. Spencer slouched in his chair, the paper cone hat on his head shifting to the side. A grimace replaced the smirk he initially wore, muttering about how he was going to get Morgan back.  

“Y/N! Bring that bottle over here when you’re done.” Morgan called out as I walked into the kitchen, pausing the ongoing discussion of the case we planned to tackle. “Also, bring another juice box for Reid here!”  

A chorus of laughter followed my ears which each step, a grin finding the corners of my lips. I rose to the tips of my toes to reach for the unopened bottle in the alcohol cabinet. I made my way to the freezer, taking out the bucket of ice I stored away hours ago. When closing the appliance door, my eyes landed on a picture magnetized to the surface.  

It was a physical reminder of the time that Spencer convinced me to dress up as Amy Pond, the eleventh doctor’s sidekick, for comic con. He too was dressed up in the doctor’s attire: a brown corduroy suit, a bowtie, and a sonic screwdriver. We both had silly grins planted on our faces, it seemed like nothing could tear down the joyous bubble we were in. Upon reflecting on the memory, the kitchen door swung open revealing a merry Spencer.  

“Hey, I was supposed to be getting you that juice box,” I joked.  

Spencer shook his head, pushing past me to get to the cupboard. “Very funny,” he droned, sarcasm dripping off his words. I leaned against the counter, setting the bucket of ice to the side. I analyzed his movements, noticing how often he fidgeted with his fingers or how his legs would clumsily turn inward at times.  

“You know,” he paused, turning around to face me, “In some countries ruled by military dictatorship, staring could be deemed as a call for execution.”  

I crossed my arms, challenging him. “Well last time I checked; we aren’t in any of those countries. Is that right, Dr. Reid?”  

“Unfortunately,” he chuckled. “Did you need anything?”  

“No, why do you ask?”  

“Well, by the way you were checking me out, I would think you needed something.” He sauntered over to the opposite counter across the kitchen, hoisting himself up on the granite. I watched as the casual smirk fell off his face after failing his initial attempt to sit. The second attempt proved to be better, although that didn’t stop me from rolling my eyes at his impotence.  

“You know,” I repeated his words, grabbing the champagne and ice bucket as I began to stroll out of the room. “I’m really starting to think you have a better chance at ‘extrapolating’ your soulmate rather than finding them.”  

“Wait!”  

I whipped around to face him with furrowed eyebrows. I nodded for him to continue, watching as a sly expression reappeared on his face. “You forgot my juice.”  

I sighed, setting the items back down on the counter before reaching for the fridge. “You are a grown man, Spence,” I gesticulated at the boy. I grabbed Spencer’s favorite sparkling water and left it aside. “You couldn’t get your own?” I raised my eyebrows at him, ducking out of the refrigerator door.  

He crossed his legs, still propped up on the counter. “Well, you did call me a five-year-old and it is my birthday,” he argued, shrugging his shoulders tauntingly.  

“I said that the other day, and considering it’s your birthday, that would mean you’d be old enough to conduct yourself,” I countered.  

“Actually, it’s grammatically inappropriate to say, ‘the other day’ when the event in question occurred yesterday,” he began to ramble. With an unimpressed nod, I began to slowly back away from the scene until I was abruptly stopped once again.  

“Wait!”  

“What!”

“You forgot to put it in a cup,” he meekly suggested, his face evident of mischief.  

“You’re clearly enjoying this aren’t you?” I groaned, shuffling towards where he was. “I’ll give you something to enjoy...” I whispered to myself.  

With a plan set in motion, I sauntered over to where Spencer sat. Once I was in front of him, I made sure to give no indication that I was moving beside him. Instead, I leaned forward, letting our chests press together as I reached up for a mug. I would be lying if I denied the faint blush warming up the apples of my cheeks or the tightness of my throat from this proximity. In a nervous hash, I could’ve sworn hearing Spencer’s breath hitch as my chin brushed against his neck.  

Feigning a confident disposition, I dropped back to the heels of my feet, finding myself to be inches away from the enamored and naive genius. “You need this?” I murmured, trying to maintain a collected tone of voice. However, Spencer did make it difficult with the intensity of his penetrating gaze or the way his breath fanned over my sensitive skin.  

For a lasting moment, I began to dissect the small specks of hazel hues in his eyes and how a dark pool of brown surrounded his irises. The tip of his nose was flushed in crimson and his mouth hung in what seemed like anticipation and hesitation battling it out. “Uh, yeah... thank you.” His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, linking his fingers with mine to take the mug.  

Without breaking eye contact, he set the mug aside and away from view. I opened my mouth to say something, but I soon discovered a dessert residing in the back of my throat. Slowly my composure unraveled, leaving me and Spencer in a purgatory of uncertainty and elation. I heard my heart thump against the walls of my ribcage as my eyes traveled to the parting of his lips, his tongue ever so often swiping against the skin.  

I shook my head out of the trance we were in, popping the hypnotic bubble forming around us. With a trepidatious smile, I gestured to the living room, suggesting going back out there. “Do you want to...” I tied my hands behind my back, stepping away from him slowly. He nodded in response; his mouth tightly pressed into an awkward line.  

With less than obvious movements, we both tiptoed our way back to the liveliness of the other room, soon forgetting about the juice and cup all together.  

-

“Bye guys, thank you for coming! See you tomorrow.” I politely bid everyone a farewell, sending them safe wishes home as they excited through the front door. “Pen, are you coming with us tomorrow?” I received a tipsy nod and a few stumbling feet, but nonetheless confirmation for the case. Spencer was to the left of me doing the same, enduring some last-minute birthday teasing from Morgan before he made his exit.  

With the slow creaking of the door, I leaned against the wood, letting my legs slowly slip down the floor until I was sitting. I tilted my head up, staring at an exhausted Spencer before making grabby hands at him. He snorted at the childlike request, aggressively pulling at my wrists until I landed into his chest.  

“Alright birthday boy, just because you’re older doesn't mean you can get all strong on me,” I warned, nuzzling my heavy head onto his shoulder. A pleasant silence surrounded us, our bodies maintaining an equal balance as we leaned onto each other. On another note, it reminded me of Newton’s principle of force that Spencer explained to me a few months back. How Newton’s cradle, a simple office trinket, exemplified conservation of momentum and energy. In this fragment of space, it felt like that with Spencer—it always felt like that: a comfortable momentum.  

“Hey Spence?”  

The quiet continued to spread throughout the atmosphere.

“Spencer?” I pressed my chin against his chest, feeling his arms find their way to my lower back. He hummed in response, his eyelids resting at a closed position. “I’m sorry about that thing in the kitchen... I was just messing around.”

  He took a while to react before sighing and pressing a tired kiss to the side of my head; with that, I knew things were okay. “Oh! I didn’t give you your present yet.”  

I melted away from his arms, scurrying off to the couch. In an exaggerated reveal, I pulled a small parcel from beneath the cushions, glee filling my eyes as I watched the bow on top spring out. I extended my arms towards Spencer, eager to have him open it.  

He walked tentatively towards me, taking purposefully leisurely strides. At one point he began to act like he was in a slow-motion sequence, causing me to threaten the integrity of his present. With raised hands, he sat next to me on the couch and gently pried the gift from my hands. “What did you get me this time? Let me guess. From the size and shape of his package here,” he turned the box around in his hands, shaking it up, “and the sound to force ratio-”  

“Just open the damn thing, Spence.”

He smiled at my usual impatience, letting his fingers glide against the edge of the parcel. Finally, with gentle hands, he picked apart the wrapping paper, careful not to rip the heart sticker that held the presentation together. He gathered the bow in his palm, and gently pressed the sticky side of the accessory to my cheek.  

I cringed at the feeling, but that soon dissipated hearing the mollified chuckle escape Spencer’s mouth. With a determined huff, Spencer pulled the last pieces of wrapping paper from the box and was left with a frayed book in his palm.  

“The Parliment of Foweles...” he whispered; an unreadable expression crossed his features.  

I curled into my own body, anticipating some form of reaction. “I... I remember you told me the first time we really sat down and got to know each other that your mom used to read that to you when you were younger.” I picked at the stitches on the couch, a lump forming in my esophagus as my tongue swelled. “It’s first edition...” I smiled, insecurity beginning to conquer my excitement from before.  

“Sorry, if you don’t like it... I was just-”  

A pair of arms pulled me into a secure embrace while a tender hand came around to cup the back of my head. An inaudible expression of gratitude was lost in between babbles of endearment and soft caresses. Spencer pulled away with pools of adoration, he clutched the book in hand as he pulled me under his arm. He ran his thumb along the deckles that adorned the sides of the pages, his palm tenderly feeling the roughness of the old woven spine.

To open the book, he singled out a random page and lightly flicked a few pages to the side before I halted his movements completely. “Wait!” I requested. “I want you to read it after the case so we can do it together,” I sheepishly tucked a hair behind his ear, hiding the careful blush on my cheeks. “If that’s okay with you.”  

“Yeah...that’s fine with me,” he breathed, his eyes locked onto the soft curves of my face. I pulled my hand away, tugging my sleeve further down my arm. “Oh! That reminds me.” Spencer places the book behind him and headed over the coat rack next to the front door. Sliding his hands through various pockets, he finally pulled a small box from one of the compartments.  

He tentatively approached me, turning the object in hand. “I know it’s my birthday, but... I wanted to do something because you’ve made everything better in these past years,” he confessed, fidgeting as he came closer. “Being with my mother always felt like home, and I just... you became that for me, so thank you.”  

My fingers reached over to his open palm, approaching the velvet box as if it was fragile. I glazed over its general shape, turning it a few times between my hands. “Spencer...I don’t even know what to say.”  

“Well, you can start by opening it,” he smiled.  

I shook my head, gently prying the box open. Inside laid a beautiful heart-shaped necklace with words etched into the metal. Once I read the words, a heavy breath escaped my lungs, and my shoulders lost all tension. “Spencer...”

  “I thought that it would be easier to have the words of your soulmate above your heart rather than you tracing over your hip,” he professed. “I also know that even if you deny not having any connection to this soulmate thing, it often brings you comfort when needed.”  

My attention went to him the second he uttered those words. “How did you know,” I mumbled with an enamored chuckle.  

“Well, whenever we’re in the field, I could tell the times you get nervous or need reassurance by the way you subtly touch your hip.”  

“I thought staring was punishable by death,” I joked, referring to his argument earlier today.  

He brushed it off with a wide smile, combing his hands through his hair. “I know we have a hefty case tomorrow based on what Penelope showed us last briefing, so I hoped that this would make you feel better,” he confessed, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back into the arm of the couch.  

“Thank you, Spencer...really,” I wrapped my arms above my head, trying to attach the unlocked chain around my neck. “Can you...?”  

With gracious hands, he lifted the chain from my fingertips and wrapped it around my neck. The skin of his fingers would occasionally brush the back of my neck, sending euphoric chills down my spine. I felt myself squirm under his touch slightly, although it wasn’t enough to be obvious. Lifting my hair to the side with his wrist, he clasped the necklace together, letting the cold metal kiss the skin.  

I turned around, appreciating the trinket in my hands. I shook my head in disbelief, watching as some of the moonlight that seeped through the window reflected off the metal. “Thank you, again, Spencer.” I nodded, bringing him into a meaningful embrace. My head rested in the crook of his neck, an aroma of pine, vanilla, and old books surrounding us. “This really is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever possessed.”  

He scoffed, gently wrapping his hands around the small of my back. “Everything pales in comparison to you.”  

-

October 29th

...

I twirled the metal heart in between my fingers as Hotch’s words failed to reach my ears. I would look up occasionally to see the pictures, but we’ve been dealing with an unsub who showed no mercy to anything morally reprehensible. I sighed, swinging my feet under me as I pretended to be enveloped by the case file in my other hand.  

“Since we’re dealing with a L.D.S.K-”  

“A long-distance serial killer,” Emily intercepted, nodding towards the team.  

“We’ll have SWAT patrol the surrounding rooftops. Emily and I will stay with the defense team here.” Hotch pointed to the house of the unsub’s target. “Morgan, Y/N, and Reid will go through the floors of the apartment building with the strike team—witnesses stated that he was located on the 5th floor, but we have to be ready for anything.”  

I looked over to Morgan with a determined expression. His face hardened at the words and his lips was pressed into a tight line. In my peripheral, I could see the way his veins would constrict against the skin as he clenched his fists.  

This case hit him particularly hard considering we couldn’t save the unsub’s last victim. It was a 4-year-old little girl, and we were misinformed about her possible location. By the time we got to her, she was faced down into a park well with a single bullet hole above her heart. I watched the slow diffusion of her blood, and how the water turned to a murky black. I couldn’t imagine Morgan’s guilt considering he was so sure of himself when reaching a breakthrough with the unsub’s whereabouts. The parents of the child would soon blame Morgan for his ignorance, spewing derogatory slurs in their distress.  

“We’ll get him Hotch,” Morgan assured, “This time, we’ll get him.”  

Spencer noticed the certitude in his voice, sharing a look with me to give extra attention to Morgan out in the field. I smiled at him, warmed at the concern that the genius had over his friend.  

“I’ll be working with local PD to hold a press conference to keep the public on the lookout,” JJ expressed, crossing her arms.

“Since...last time, we figured that unsub finds enjoyment in toying with us or singling us out. So, keep each other in check and make sure to report back in your earpieces every five minutes.” Hotch himself seemed perturbed by the unsub’s earlier actions considering he had his own toddler to deal with. “Penelope has sent the coordinates to everyone. Remember the profile, and don’t leave yourselves vulnerable. We’re dealing with an elusive unsub that won’t stop at nothing to satisfy himself,” Hotch spoke with a quiver in his voice.

  I bit the inside of my cheek and breathed heavily through my mouth. My hands began to drift to my hip but momentarily stopped as I remembered the chain around my neck. I slumped into the chair as Hotch dismissed the team, sending them out for their respective assignments.  

“You, okay?” I whipped around to the sound of JJ’s voice. She leaned against the doorframe with an expression full of concern. Looking behind her, she noticed Spencer noticeably pacing through the bullpen waiting for a specific someone. He attempted to disguise his eagerness by counting tiles on the floor or squares on the ceiling, but to JJ he was easily discernable.  

I let a dry laugh, shaking my head. “After what happened, I’m a bit worried—not about me—but Morgan and Spence.” I swiveled around in the office chair a few times until I landed in front of JJ.  

“You know you fidget the same way as Spence,” she pointed out, grinning at the similarity. I shook off the oncoming warmth that flooded the skin and looked elsewhere. “You’re right to worry about both of them though. But you know how stubborn and determined they are.” As she began to walk out, she left a lingering message that soothed my nerves. “Plus, Spencer may have that IQ of his, but we all know runs things between you all.”  

She wasn’t wrong. I’ve always kept a watchful eye over the both of them—maybe Spencer a little more—but nonetheless, I deeply cared about both of them. It was relieving to know that Spencer’s circle of trust exponentially grew from Morgan to JJ to me. It symbolized the growth that Spencer was mostly oblivious to, but it meant more to me than I can explain, seeing how he opened himself up to happier possibilities.  

A sharp exhale left my lungs while my lips formed into a sly smirk. Without another minute to wait, I left the round table behind JJ, leaving Spencer to stop dawdling. “You ready genius?” I walked out into the hall, not sparing a glance at the figure trailing behind me.

“With you? Always.”  

-

“Nothing here,” a voice confirmed in my earpiece. My gun hung low in my hands while I tiptoed through the floor of the apartment building. “You know Y/N, if I knew that the unsub was going to the pick a building in the area we resided in, maybe I would’ve considered having the party at Rossi’s instead,” Spencer joked.  

I bit the smile growing on my lips, focusing on the assignment on hand.  

“Maybe after the case, instead of reading that book in our apartment we can go over to that small library/cafe we’ve been meaning to go to,” he continued to drone, forgetting about the connection of everyone’s channels.  

“Reid, if all you’re gonna do is flirt with Y/N, leave the damn channel,” Morgan warned. Hearing the worry in his tone, Spencer straightened up, coughing to cover up his soft apology. Being separated didn’t help the irrational thoughts that built up in the back of my conscience; I can’t even comprehend what’s probably going through Morgan’s head.  

“You good?” I mumbled into the com; my eyes straightforward while I advanced towards the hall. Morgan didn’t respond, an inaudible huff coming through the speakers.  

“I’m moving up to the top floor. Y/N and Reid, go back down to the basement and see if we missed anything,” Morgan broke the awkward silence with an austerity in his words. The silent hum that came afterwards was worse than earlier. I turned off my earpiece, sensing a conversation about to ensue between the two gentlemen.

The thickness in the atmosphere was similar to the air that surrounded me and Spencer when competing in recreational chess. Whenever I attempted to put his king in check, he would block the move by maneuvering another piece in front of it. This would lead to a game of cat and mouse until I would figure out that the entire time, Spencer had been deluding me into false security while checking my king piece. Ultimately, I would lose to Spencer. However, there were games where I’d outmaneuver him or win by dumb luck.  

I’d like to think that I developed some sort of intuition for his behavior from playing against him, but he’s deemed unpredictable every game. He was always sharp, eight steps ahead and aware of all possibilities. I guess that’s what make him an effective profiler, always thinking in the future.

I ran down the stairs, still armed, when Penelope’s voice ran through the earpiece. “Updates! Updates people.” The joy in her voice always relived me of the gloom that usually surrounded me in the field; hopefully she has the same effect on Morgan.  

“Hey, Pen.” An invisible grin was evident in my words, knowing she’d pick up on it.  

“Hello, my love, seems like at least one person is happy to see me,” she verbally jabbed at the lack of response from Spence and Morgan.  

Still no response.  

“Sorry, they’re working out their marriage at the moment,” I teased, hoping for the usual distasteful comment I usually get from Morgan.  

Still nothing.  

An unnerving feeling crept up the back of my neck. “Penelope, can you check if their coms are still workin—shit.” Before I could finish, a long buzz of static came through the speakers. The only comprehensible words that were picked up was the beginning of my name before cutting off.  

I bit my lip, pulling out the small piece of technology and tapping it a few times. “Come on... dammit.” After playing around with the earpiece, I grew frustrated with it and stuffed it into my pocket.  

I paced in the small landing between the stairs, thinking of a new gameplan. I ran my fingers through the ends of my hair, feeling the split ends prick at the skin. I felt a mountain growing in at the bottom of my stomach, leaving my esophagus constricted without air. “What would Spencer do,” I mumbled to myself, gripping onto my necklace.  

“Spencer...Spencer...”  

Before I could finish the mantra, a shot rang out from above me, and the crashing off glass followed. In the split moment, my legs grew a mind of its own and sprinted to higher ground. Suddenly, the sweat perspiring off me turned cold, and my heartbeat slammed itself into my spinal cord as I ran. My feet forgot its exhaustion while my mind devoured every irrational thought, and combined it with adrenaline.  

The single thing that drove me over my limits was knowing that the person who fabricated and would shoo away these thoughts was somewhere I didn’t know I could get to in time.  

-

Spencer’s POV

I tiptoed into a vacant suite of the building, still antsy about the scolding I received from Morgan. The conversation after didn’t help considering it was all a reminder to be aware and focused on the task at hand. I knew Morgan was filled with the need for redemption despite the team forgiving him of his ignorance. So, I shook off the creeping feeling and abided by his instructions.  

Deciding to update Y/N and Morgan about my whereabouts, I spoke into the coms only to have static come out of it. I tried once again but failed to reach anyone. The room around me shrank as a sharp exhale left my lungs. I swallowed the buildup of saliva in the back of my throat, feeling uneasy about not knowing what’s to come.  

Seeing at the area was clear, I looked out of one of the windows. Initially I cringed at the accumulated dirt and grime in the glass panes, but that all dissipated when I spotted the quaint park that Y/N loved. No one else had any interest in the community lot, seeing as people would coin it—or what Y/N would tell me—the park of death. But to her, she saw the opposite as she always does.  

The light feeling of reminiscing my interactions with Y/N soothed the disconcerting atmosphere, keeping me grounded. Although the sentiment ended as soon as it started when I spotted one of the apartment walls was spray-painted with black letters.  

Zugzwang

A blaring shot rang out and glass shattered into the room. I ducked into the floor, shutting my eyes. My head spun as the boom impaired my hearing. The window was forcibly open, the shards resting beside me. Left disoriented, I groaned, only feeling the after wave of vibrations on the ground. However, I soon found out that the quake of the floor wasn’t from the initial shot, but the rapid clobbering of feet inching closer to the suite and a shadowy figure preceding it.  

Y/N emerged from the doorframe, panting. Eyes were laced in fear while they bore into my own. My stomach twisted into knots from previous events while I contemplated what had occurred. The presence of Y/N wasn’t even strong enough to relinquish the egging feeling crawling in my skin. I anticipated Morgan to appear, considering he was closer to the scene.

Where was he?

Another thing I didn’t anticipate, a second shot.  

“Spencer?”  

-

January 3rd

Three months after

My thoughts antagonized one another while I stared out into the world from the eerily quiet apartment. The living room was cold and empty despite the array of furniture scattered about and the broken picture frames lining the walls. The vapor rising from the cup of tea drifted into the air, vanishing into nonexistence. It’s funny how that could happen in a matter of milliseconds.  

The pain the lived inside the chambers of my heart was no match for the burning of skin I felt when holding onto the steaming cup. The only worthy adversary would be the rush of self-resentment that coursed through me when picking up the book. I deserved it though. I deserved the spikes through my stomach while my fingers trailed the deckled pages, reminding me of the first time I held the book, its previous owner present with me.

I would remember our time together.  

I would remember the promise shared between us.  

I would remember the bloodied handprint pressed against my chest.

Now all I had was the physical manifestation of what’s left: the necklace. As cruel as it was for me, I kept it in the book, using it as a bookmark while I lost myself into poems. After a while, the inked words lost their meaning to me, becoming an empty cacophony that encased the jewelry.

Every time I grasped the chain in my clutches, a numbed ache would make itself known at the pit of my stomach. It clawed at my intestines and made the entirety of my body system obsolete. With that, I was abandoned with the sinister hauntings of my own mind—a part of me that I was once praised for. 

 A genius. A prodigy. Hidden behind the real mess of a guilty man.  

I ignored the smashed chess board and pieces that laid still at my feet, concentrating on the snowflakes that littered the park across from the building. The grounds looked beautiful, covered in layers of pure white. I sipped at the tea once more letting my mind deteriorate with a sophisticated nonchalance. 

 What a tragedy it was to know my soulmate, especially right under the tip of my nose. What a cruel joke life had played.  

I wished I had more time.  

It was easier to let the guilt consume me rather than pondering on what I lost—who I lost. Had I lost myself too? Maybe, it didn’t matter. In some masochistic way, I enjoyed the guilt because it was a way to remember that at one point someone made for me existed. I used it to relive the moments I could never get back.  

All that remained was an empty shell of a man, staring out into a dull world, wondering how time took everything away from him.  

-

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[extremelyblackandwhite]

into the woods

PAIRING: alpha!bucky barnes x innocent omega!reader

WARNINGS: age gap (reader in her 20′s, bucky in his mid to late 30′s), smut, a/b/o dynamics

A/N: this has some acotar vibes because i was reading it while writing this but i hope you enjoy it. have fun xx

The High Lady of the North, is what they called her, or at least what they refered her. to whenever they spoke of her as seeing the daughter of one of the most powerful men in all the land was a rare sight. Those who knew her, knew her from her time at school and those who didn’t merely gossiped about her. They knew what she was, an omega, the first omega born in a family of alphas who had ruled over the land for centuries. Her birth had been celebrated as a gift to fertility yet, the most desired omega in all of the land was yet to participate in one of the Spring Celebrations where omegas going through their first heat would be chased by eager alphas into the woods. Y/N absolutely hated the mere idea of being thrown around like a piece of meat for alphas to go after and she was thankful that as years went by no sign of a heat was yet to come. Servants at the mansion would comment maybe she was an infertile omega while some commented she was merely buying her time. However, despite all those comments and all those titles thrown at her by people who did not know her, one person did know the reason why the omega High Lady was kept apart from everyone else. That person was James Barnes, Bucky for short. He, like everyone who surrounded her was an Alpha yet his task was merely to look after her whenever she wanted to venture around, not that she enjoyed to be out of her little walls for long.

He was quiet, a far cry from how loud every Alpha she knew was yet in his quietness and lonely demeanor, he had a power that kept everyone else at arms’ length. He wasn’t a brashy young Alpha who couldn’t control his nature, no, his inner wolf was always restrained with just enough of a facade that kekpt everyone else away. No one dared defy James Barnes unless they wanted to be beat to a pulp. That reputation had earned him a reputation which led to the job he had occupied for the past 3 years, starting during her 20th birthday. It hadn’t taken him too long to grow attached to her and her little quirks. Yet again, he was an alpha and she was an omega so he guessed biology played a role in it. 

She herself wasn’t much of a outgoing omega, instead keeping to herself with her piles of books and flowers. However, recently, she was even more hidden from everybody, staying in her room covered by her blankets and vanilla candles and god blessed anyone who attempted to bother her. As the days went by, it became perfectly clear to everyone what was happening; the 23 year old omega was starting her heat. 

     - I don’t need to be coddled! - she snapped at Bucky as he stood by her side. He wasn’t closer than he usually was, actually, he was even trying to keep his distance. Despite his control, he knew how strong first heats were and he knew how easily they could trigger a rut even in the most experienced Alpha. However, he couldn’t help but find it amusing how irritableshe was. 

     - I’m sorry, m’lady. - he chuckled. 

     - You find it funny? - she crossed her arms, cocking her head to the side in a menancing manner; yet, she merely looked like an upset child in that ridiculous periwinkle dress. - I’m to be bait for horny alphas and you think it’s funny. 

    - You’re being overdramatic, you’re not going to be bait. Everybody does it.

    - You didn’t do it.

    - I’m not an Omega. 

    - You didn’t join the other alphas either. - she noted, continuing her distance from him. - It’s sexist!

    - No one is going to touch you if you don’t allow it. You can’t force a mating bond onto someone, m’lady.

    - Call me m’lady one more time. - she rolled her eyes. 

    - Sorry, Y/N. - he smiled and she couldn’t help but forgive him and he couldn’t help but not take it seriously. He knew she wasn’t sleeping, way too overwealmed by pre-heat and preparations for it. Just last night he’d seen her carrying more pillows into her bedroom along with a full supply of food. - You still remember how to mask your scent?

    - Yes. 

    - Then they won’t even be able to detect you. They’re young alphas and will go for the omegas whose scent is stronger, you’ll most likely spend the night by yourself. 

The two continued to walk past the meadows, her eyes never leaving the woods close to her childhood home where she was certain to be thrown into the next night. She wondered if Bucky was right and that would be enough. Maybe he was right about forcing mating bonds but she knew they could force something else ... she wasn’t naive. 

    - You’ll be okay. - he reassured, noticing how lost in thought she was. - I’d never let them harm you.

    - You think I’ll smell bad? - she changed the topic.

    - No. - he chuckled at her question. - Omegas always smell sweet. Haven’t meet an Omega who didn’t. 

    - Even the one you brought to your room last week? - he had unbelievable control but he was still an Alpha and a very desirable one. While he’d gotten used to having a few ruts every year, lately it appeared as every month he was going into ruts and after an Alpha goes into rut, well, they need to mate. He expected her not to have noticed, her room was very far removed from everyone else’s, standing in the highest floor, far removed from every Alpha and Beta in the house. Yet, he should’ve known how attentive she was, how observant, how no detail went unnoticed. 

   - I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble.

   - You didn’t. - she didn’t look at him, continuing her walk around the gardens of the grounds she had grown up with. Roses of various colours were starting to bloom once again, creating a palette of soft hues which reminded her of soft spring paintings which hanged in the big halls of the old house. - They’re expecting me to find one, you know, a mate. They say they’re not but I know they are. 

   - Y/N ...

   - You could go. - she argued, the same thing she’d been trying to convince him for the past days. - If you go, no other Alpha will try to even go after me.

   - I’m too old for even participate in those things, besides you can take care off yourself. 

She decided not to rattle him, childish crushes set aside, she knew he could be the one to keep every other young and power hungry Alpha away from her but Bucky was a hard one to convice. He was in his mid thirties and despite his good looks, he remained unmated, mostly hanging around with Omegas and Betas whenever his ruts were particularly bad. Staff would tell her he probably had no mate due to his actions in the war years ago, but Y/N didn’t really believe them. Nevertheles, he remained set in stone in the idea of not even attending the event, always saying “An Omega’s first heat close is way too dangerous”. She’d always retort if it was dangerous then he should be the one to protect her, yet he shrugged it off. So, she was once again back in her own and as the hours passed faster and faster, she found herself staring at her own reflection dressed in white. The same features as her mother’s stared back at her, yet she was no Alpha woman and her own biology reminded her. Her skin was starting to boil hot, a reminder of what was yet to come. She hoped it wasn’t as bad, she hoped she could bathe in the river coursing through the woods for the evening.

She emerged from her house, walking up hill just to beginning of the the woods. Several other new omegas were around, much younger than her, eager to take this new step and find their omega. Y/N, on the other hand, felt like this was merely another joke from the world yelling in her face that she was an omega. She, the daughter of an Alpha leader, the lady who’d inherit all the estate including the woods, the High Lady of the North, was an omega. There was only one reason why they were excited about a heat, it meant she could produce children, alpha children to continue the bloodline. She was merely a dark weak branch in the tapestry of her family. Her eyes scanned the Alphas who were about to participate, no Bucky in sight. She didn’t know why she had hope he’d come. Part of her understood it was dangerous, after all Bucky was fresh out a rut, his rut having started around the time her pre heat started so it was no good to have him around. Nevertheless, she wanted him here. Her hands clutched the lotion Bucky had given him as she ran into the woods with the other omegas, their white dresses disappearing into the dark green. 

Bucky watched her from the crowd which had gathered to see the High Lady’s first attempt of a Spring cerimony. They clearly had nothing better to do, he thought to himself. How come her heat was that important? She was still a bright, intelligent woman who no question would well suceed her father as leader of the North court. 

     - You think she’ll come out mated? - one of the maids who’d come to see the spring cerimony asked.

     - Don’t think she wants to. - he commented, mostly out of politeness. The last thing he wanted was a rookie Alpha laying a claim on his omega. 

     - I surely hope so. We were so blessed when her pre-heat started so sudden 5 nights ago.

    - I thought it didn’t start up to 3 days ago. 

    - No, it was definetely 5 nights ago.

Shit.

Y/N continued to run through the woods, rubbing the lotion onto her scent glands in her wrists and junctures between the neck and shoulders. However, no matter how much her mind wanted to keep running, the heat was starting to overtake her and her legs were growing weaker and weaker until she tumbled onto the ground. Her head hit the ground, her eyes looking onto the stary sky as she heard the sounds of mating and footsteps. She just knew it was only a mere of time til someone found her and took her, but they only never be her alpha. No, it wasn’t the alpha she wanted. 

She clenched onto the locket which was the only relief against her own skin, praying she could gain some strength to get up and continue to run. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want any of the alphas she’d seen. They weren’t her alpha. They’re not alpha, her mind yelled at her. They’re not Bucky. 

The footsteps got louder and she reached for a sharp rock, preparing herself for whoever attempted to go after her. However, the person who emerged was someone who she had not expected. Standing away from her was Bucky, breath ragged and sweat covered forehead. Once his eyes set on her, his nostrils flared and he took a step back, faltering in his movements. 

    - Yo...you scared me. - she hiccuped, trying to move from the floor. 

    - Why aren’t you wearing the lotion, omega? - he’d never called her omega, he’d never dare to call his lady anything other than what she wished, yet Y/N couldn’t complain about being called omega by him.

    - I am. - ever the argumentative, she showed him the empty tin of lotion yet Bucky could still smell her, and how fucking sweet did she smell. - Bucky, I don’t feel good. 

     - Shit ... - he shut his eyes. Control yourself, he told himself over and over again, but her scent was just intoxicating. It filled every single sense, every crock of his brain, telling him to take her, to take his omega, the same omega that was laying on the ground. The omega whose mere pre-heat had trigged his rut.   

    - Bucky ... - she clenched her stomach. It was bad, very bad. Her skin felt like it was burning and her inner thighs were starting to get wet due to the slick which just kept appearing. She didn’t kknow what to do, no one had told her what a heat felt like, no one had told her how to calm down. Looking at Bucky only made it worse, her mind yelling at her to be near him but his eyes were clear, don’t get close. - Alpha, please. 

That name. Being called by his title by her of all people made him want to take her right there. No matter how hard he tried that’s all he could see in his head, making her feel better, knot her. 

    - It hurts. - she cried out. - I don’t know what to do.

She had heard from other maids who were omegas what to expect but she didn’t exactly know what to do. She was an omega in a family of Alphas; her father was an alpha, her mother was an alpha and so had their parents. She was the first omega to be born and it wasn’t her parents didn’t care about her they just didn’t know how to exactly raise an omega. It didn’t particularly help that she didn’t act like a stereotypical omega, or what an alpha family expected, so she was treated no different. Bucky also didn’t think her family talked much about mating; she was a high lady after all, the one who’d continue the family line. He wanted to help her, he really did but everytime he looked her, his inner wolf wanted nothing to but to lay his claim on her. 

His mind was overwhelmed with thoughts of helping her clashing with doing what’s best for her. Bucky, an old alpha, definetely was not the best for her and he wasn’t fit to be the mate of the high lady, he wasn’t fit to be anyone’s alpha much less someone’s mate. 

    - I want it to stop. - she took him of his thoughts. In the absence of his attention, she’d managed to lean against a tree, her hands pulling at her dress, attempting to get some cold air.

    - Not gonna stop for three days. - his voice was lower and she couldn’t help but feel entranced by him. She’d never seen him like this, acting like a pure alpha whose voice dripped dominance. His eyes shut again as her smell surrounded him once more. God, why did she smell so good? 

    - Make it stop. - she begged him. Him, out of all alphas, some sons of high lords themselves and here he was, the lower of the lowest born alphas. - Alpha.

    - Don’t call me alpha. - he would lose it if she called him alpha even just one more time. He was barely keeping himself away from her, despite how much he wanted her. God, he wanted her. He’d always wanted her. The other alphas weren’t enough, no one would ever be enough for her. 

His mind race with ways to help her. He could always try to lead her out the woods through the other side and sneak her back into her nest so she could go through her heat away from any eager alphas; yet, he doubted she could walk much at this moment and carrying her was not an option, not when she’d be so close to him, her skin touching his would end it for him. Yet again, he’d rather be damned than not help his Y/N. He couldn’t bare having her go through this when she didn’t want to. She deserved better than this, she deserved all the choices that were offered to her ancestors, no matter what biology dictated. Bucky would rather watch the world burn than to let her go through this a second longer. 

With his mind set on taking her back to his bedroom, he told himself he could control himself. He was in his thirties, he’d had ruts before and he could conttrol himself. He took a deep breathe in before getting up and walking up to her. Her scent got stronger and stronger but his mind wanted her well, wanted her to be completely and fully happy. The alpha put his arms around her and picked her up, her legs dangling from the his arms. Intuitively, her nose rubbed against the scent gland on his neck. Her body slightly cooled down and she cuddled against him, happily surrounded by the scent of pinewood and ash dust. Despite her being much calmer, he himself could feel his blood boil. Her scent was starting to morph with his and all he could think about was her being absolutely owned by him. Yet, he had to keep those thoughts quiet. This was his lady after all and he owned her vasalage. 

The night had dawned in and the once familiar woods were dark, filled with noises he knew too well and the sound of the creek passing by. He held her close to him, attempting to make his way through the darkness and out of the woods. A sudden noise had him stopping in his tracks. She looked up at him, with those eyes which just screamed trust within him, and a feeling of overwhelming possesiveness took control of him. He held her tight against his chest as his eyes zoomed onto the figure which made their way straight at them. He knew him. He was the son of a lord ruling over the south and Bucky absolutely hated him. He’d heard way too much about the young alpha to want him to stay away from his omega. 

   - Evening, m’lady. - he looked at Y/N, completely ignoring Bucky. She rolled her eyes, gripping Bucky’s shirt as much she could. - Bought Barnes with you?

   - Move along, Michael. She’s not interested. 

   - I didn’t know you spoke for her now. - he took slow steps towards them, stalking them like a predator to a prey. - Unless you’re thinking about taking her just for yourself. 

   - Go away. - Y/N managed to speak through her heat, although even speaking made her uncomfortable. 

   - You stink, Barnes. - he snickered. - Yet again an omega in heat and an alpha in rut is never a good match is it?

   - It’s none of your business. 

   - If you change your mind m’lady, just let me know. - he winked at Y/N before disappearing into the greenery. 

Bucky’s eyes grew darker, his insticts taking more and more of his thought process. He wanted to hurt him for even daring looking into his omega’s way but her mewling had him back on his mission to take her back to her bedroom, back to her nest.

Y/N, however, had her eyes set on Bucky. Was he on his rut? He didn’t look like he was on a rut and she had grown up in an house of alphas. She knew what a rut looked like and she knew no omega wanted to be near an alpha in rut. But Bucky wasn’t acting domineering, he wasn’t angry, he wasn’t making advances, he was just stoic. Maybe she wasn’t enough of an omega for him, people always told her she wasn’t enough of an omega. She wasn’t enough for him. He probably looked at her like a silly rich omega and the mere thought of it made her heart ache.

   - What’s wrong? - he stepped outside the dense greenery, seeing her house in the horizon. 

   - Is Michael right? Are you on your rut? - Bucky was pensive for a while. He didn’t want to scare her but he also didn’t want to lie to her. - I thought your rut was finished.

   - Got triggered. - he replied. - I’m not gonna hurt you, I’d never hurt you.

   - Does it hurt? 

   - Not my first rut, sweetheart. 

   - Is it because I’m not a good omega? - he snapped his head towards her harshly. No, his mind yelled out, you’re my omega how could you not be the only thing in this whole world which was good and bright. - Am I just not enough?

   - What are you talking about, sweetheart? You’re being delirious.

   - I know how alphas act around omegas, any omega. - he grip grew loose on his shirt as she looked down, unable to look at him. - Am I just ... not enough?

   - Y/N ...

   - You don’t need to sugar coat it for me. Nobody wants me. My parents didn’t want an omega, no one wants me to rule and not even the type of person biology dictated would want me wants me. 

   - You think I don’t want you? - his eyes grew dark, the baby blues replaced by dark blue all consuming. - You’re all I fucking think about ever since I met you. Ruts without you are a fucking nightmare because all I keep thinking is to find you and mate you. You’re my only omega. 

   - Then why won’t you mate me?

   - I’m not good enough for you. 

   - You’re my alpha. It hurts whenever you bring another omega to your room because all I want to do is be your omega and now, now you’re pushing me away. You don’t want me just like everybody else.

   - Don’t you dare say that. - ever. - Don’t you dare ever tell me I don’t want you.

   - Then do something about it.

She was just being defiant now, a sparky little omega. One of the many qualities which he adored about her; yet again he loved everything about her. He knew she was his omega, she had triggered his rut way too easily and based on the timing of his last rut and her pre-heat it wasn’t stupid to assume he’d triggered hers. Nevertheless, he was not the right person for her. She already had a tough time trying to get people to take her seriously as high lady, if she sported his mark on her lovely neck, it’d only make it harder. He wasn’t a particularly good partner to have, much less for a high lady. Nevertheless, those words stroke a chord on him. How dare she think she was not enough? Looking back at her, he could see it clear as day, the heartbreak scetched onto her lovely features. His instincts finally got the upper hand over his better consciousness and suddenly his lips were on hers. Strawberry laced flavours had him growling for more, for her body yearning for him and then the innocent kiss started to descend as he tasted her skin. 

His touch was soft and rough at the same time yet all she could think of was of him, having him. Her alpha. Her skin grew hot and cold in waves, his touch alone making slick run down her legs. 

   - You want this, omega? - he nipped at her scent gland in her neck. - You gotta tell me.

   - Please, Alpha. 

She leet out a small moan as he pushed her dress up, his fingers wandering close to her core as his lips kissed her skin leisurely. She wanted him, she wanted him so badly. His knee lodged between her legs, close to her pulsating core as he laid her down on the grass. She looked tempting, like a gift wrapped in white tafeta. How could he say no to her? How could he say no to his omega? He looked at her with lust filled eyes, head cocked to the side before leaning down to place a slow kiss on her lips, his hand massaging her breast, thumb teasingly rubbing her pebbled nipple.

His other hand replaced the pressure from his knee against her core, finger separating her folds as he started to circle her clit, his kiss silencing all her slow and earning moans. Her nails digged on his shoulders as she attempted to mutter a faster between his long kisses.

   - Shush princess, alpha is going to make you feel all better. - his voice was low, almost mocking how yearning she was. 

   - I want you inside of me, please.

   - You don’t need to beg, omega mine. I’m all yours. 

His hand moved to hold her waist as he aligned his cock with her entrance. His eyes searched for hers, wanting to look at her before he did it yet as he looked into her eyes all he found was love and trust. Someone loved and trusted him. His omega loved and trust him and that was all he could ever want. He leaned in to kiss her again before fully slipping inside of her. He went slowly, watching the way her face contorted with pleasure just for him, listening to her little moans before he was fully sheathed inside of her. The two moaned in unison and he stilled, looking for any sign of discomfort in her face.

   - Move, alpha. Move. - she begged, nails dragging up and down his shoulders. 

   - Whatever you want, sweetheart. - he leaned to kiss her again as he started to move in and out of her. She moaned out a breathy moan, hands holding onto him as he moved to kiss her neck, her scent making him drunk with pleasure. 

She was filled with him and all that yearning only seemed to heighten everytime he moved. He was her alpha and she was happy being filled by him, being his. He nipped at her neck, continuing his movements so he could hear all those lovely moans. God, he was drunk on it, her scent and her moans. He moved his hand to feel himself against her stomach. God, she looked pretty, so owned. Those waves of heat were back again as she started to clench around his cock. His movements quickened as he let out a groan against her skin, his thrusts were no longer controlled and merely looking for release until she let out a high pitched moan. 

   - Fuck, omega. - he growled, before biting her skin as ropes and ropes of white painted her walls. His knot inflated, keeping them connected. He didn’t think he’d be able to ever leave her. - Fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry.

   - You marked me. - she looked at him playfully, kissing down his jaw. - You’re stuck with me. 

   - I think it’s the other way around, m’lady.

   - High Lord James Barnes, it has a ring to it. 

   - Don’t say that. - he hide in the space between her neck and shoulder, licking the fresh mark on her neck. - I should take you back to your nest, sweetheart.

   - You’re joining me right?

   - A heat is three days, omega. We’re going to have fun. 

taglist: @kitty4860​

[enhypenandpaper]

rewriting fate (to get the ending we deserve) | yang jungwon

pairing: Yang Jungwon x gn!reader

genre: soulmate!au, angst (with a happy ending), some fluff

warnings: blood, self-inflicted wounds (in an unconventional sense), mentions of scars, self-doubt

word count: 2.3k

summary: in a world where the universe designates two people as soulmates with matching tattoos, you were raised to trust and respect the universe’s will to no end. however, when the boy you love turns out not to be the other half of your fated pair, you begin to question how much the universe can really be trusted. are you and Jungwon actually making a mistake? Or has the universe?

-

You were laying on your back next to your boyfriend, the blanket he always kept in his car for moments like this protecting your clothes from the wet grass. With the stars shining above you and the boy you loved beside you, you felt like you could conquer the world.

You turned your head so you could look at Jungwon; his big, sparkling eyes, his soft hair resting on his forehead. Your eyes travel down his long neck and pause at the collarbones peeking out from his t-shirt. You watch as his chest rises and falls, it takes a moment for you to realize that yours is moving at the same pace. Your breathing was linked.

Jungwon, having felt your stare, moved his head to confront you. He raised his eyebrows and started to smirk, obviously about to make a joke about how whipped you were for him until you interrupted.

“You’re so beautiful,” you tell him.

Now it’s your turn to smirk, watching Jungwon try and fail to hide the way your words affected him, pressing his lips together to hide his smile and turning to face the night sky again so you can’t see how pink his cheeks are.

Your boyfriend unlaces your hands and, before you can whine, configures the two of you so that you can rest on his chest with his now free arm around you.

You snuggle closer into him, feeling his heartbeat pulse through your body.

“My parents had a talk with me,” you blurt out, unable to keep it a secret like you originally planned.

“…About?” Jungwon asks tentatively. 

“They think we’re too old to be dating someone who isn’t our soulmate.”

God, you hated that word. 

In this world, everyone was born with a mark, sort of like a tattoo, somewhere on their body. The placement changed with each generation and growing up, you and your peers walked around with dark blue drawings right above your hearts, courtesy of the universe. There were only two of each mark per generation, a matching pair indicating that those two people were soulmates.

Soulmate, perfect match, life-long confidante, a person who complemented you in every way and was worth any sacrifice, a person fated for you and you, them. 

If you didn’t think it was total bullshit, you would’ve found it romantic.

You weren’t usually one to question the universe or think up complicated conspiracies to refute how the world worked, but this was something you wouldn’t budge on.

Because how could the universe always be right when you and Jungwon didn’t have the same mark?

Yang Jungwon, the boy with the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen and a smile to match. The person who could make you laugh at the most inappropriate of times, smile at the darkest, relax at the most stressful. The boy whose side you would never leave, the boy you would let the world burn for, the boy for whom you would do anything because anything that brought him happiness brought it to you by default. 

Your best friend-turned-boyfriend, Jungwon has been by your side through it all. But now that you two were becoming adults, you were expected to leave your little “crushes” behind and start looking for your respective soulmates. People in your world still dated, even if they knew their significant other wasn’t their soulmate, but it was mostly seen as a way to gain experience for later. It was a given that if the person you were dating found their soulmate (or wanted to start looking), you would let them go with no questions asked.

That was sort of the plan when you and Jungwon started liking each other back in your last year of middle school, giggling and looking away whenever you held hands or made eye contact for long enough, but the young relationship that everyone cooed at easily developed into a strong bond between you and the boy lying next to you, an unbreakable bond that nobody could seem to understand.

So, to everyone else, you and Jungwon were just wasting time.

“Do you agree with them?”

“What?”

“Do you agree with what they said?” Jungwon repeated quietly. “Do you think we’re wasting time?”

“No,” you answered immediately, feeling your boyfriend exhale. “Do you?”

“Y/N, if I ever thought that this wasn’t worth it, I would’ve ended it right away. I would never hold you back like that.”

He always thought in terms of you, not him.

“But what if I’m holding you back? I want you to be happy, the happiest you can be, and if that means you have to be with someone else-”

“It doesn’t,” he assured you. 

Your hand that was resting on his stomach fiddled with the fabric of his shirt.

“I told them that I had already found my soulmate, that I haven’t needed to look for anything since you moved in down the street.” You smile, thinking of how chubby Jungwon’s cheeks were when you first met as children.

He huffed out a laugh, raising his head to kiss the top of yours.

“You make me feel unstoppable,” Jungwon told you, “like the two of us could take on the universe when we’re together.”

“We kind of already are,” you joke, referring to how you’ve been ignoring the universe’s will for years now, “even the universe has failed at keeping us apart.”

You hesitated, unable to force something to the back of your mind.

“What about them, Jungwon? Are we horrible people for leaving them alone?”

He knew who you were talking about.

“I hope that they both have someone in their life who chooses them,” he told you, “instead of letting some glorified drawings control their happiness. I mean, if they really are supposed to be exactly what we need, maybe they aren’t looking for us either. Maybe they’ve found what we have.”

You sat up suddenly, Jungwon’s arm falling off your shoulders and flopping down beside his own body.

“What happens when you’re running errands one day or you’re out with your family and you see someone with the same mark as you?” You ask softly, staring ahead at the ground as your fingers tangled themselves in the grass, tugging and breaking the weak strands. “What if you meet them one day? What if someone’s shirt slips and it’s like you’re standing in front of a mirror or someone taps you on the shoulder because they could’ve sworn that-”

“Y/N,” Jungwon stops you, pleading. 

You hear him sit up to join you.

You looked at him and physically felt all the anxiety leave your body in waves once your eyes met his. His sparkling eyes held so much love that it would be painful for anyone who didn’t share his feelings to look directly at them. 

“There is nothing that anyone could say or do to ever make me rethink my decision, make me rethink you. We’ve never needed something to tell us how to feel, this relationship is entirely our own. Nothing can take away what we feel for each other… what we’ve built together.”

That was when you smiled, overwhelmed by the sweetness and the realness of the boy sitting next to you. 

He was right, of course, your love wasn’t sketched out in the blueprint of the universe. It was grown and cultivated by two pairs of gentle hands, like a flower blooming in the box outside someone’s window or a blazing fire heating a home.

You had never needed the universe’s help to find true love.

Your boyfriend reached toward you, cradling your tear-stained cheeks with his hands. 

“Do you feel that, Y/N? Do you feel like you’re on top of the world? Because that’s how I feel whenever I’m with you. You give me strength, strength that has defied the universe. How could a stranger pull my attention away from all of this? From you.”

“If they see them, how do we explain to them that there was some mistake?” You whispered.

You and Jungwon may be set on ignoring the curses inked on your chests, but the ones who shared your marks may not be.

 One would think Jungwon was going to kiss you with the way he was staring at you, but his gaze was much too serious for that. It looked like he was searching for something, searching for a solution, an answer to your question.

But, instead of kissing you, he moved away and toward the picnic basket you had packed and brought for your little stargazing date.

He dug around for a few seconds before finding what he was looking for. The moonlight flashed across the silver knife as Jungwon moved back to where you were sitting with it in his hand. 

“Jungwon…?”

He pushed his shirt off one of his shoulders. Your eyes grazed over his bare upper chest and sharp collarbones before settling on the blue ink resting above his heart. 

The skin around his soulmate mark was a little lighter than the rest of his body, because of how often he covered it, which made it stand out even more. 

It was the thing you hated most, permanently attached to the thing you loved most, so you couldn’t stop staring.

The glint of the knife tore you from your daze. Jungwon had raised it to his chest.

“Jungwon, what are you doing?”

He paused. “Choosing my own path.”

You placed your hand on top of his that was clutched around the hilt of the knife. You weren’t really sure what he was trying to do, you had never been so in the dark when it came to him before, but you knew that you didn’t like the idea of something dangerous being so close to your boyfriend.

“We should be free to be with whoever we want, Y/N, and for me, that’s you. Mark or not,” he told you.

You stared into each other’s eyes, a silent conversation passing between your gazes. You let go of his hand and watched, torn, as he brought the edge of the knife up to his chest and began to slice a clean line through his soulmate mark. He hesitated before drawing another line in the opposite direction, ending up with an “x” over this tattoo. 

The blood dripping from the cut exposed how deep it really was. It would definitely leave a scar, as you knew was his goal.

You grabbed napkins from the picnic basket, carefully wiping the blood away from Jungwon’s skin before it all traveled far enough to stain his clothes. He sat there quietly, watching you, trying to gauge your reaction to what he had done.

You dabbed at his skin gently. With the blood gone you could really see what the knife had done. A red “x”—the blood was already coming back—had marred the small stain of the universe. He had made sure that nobody, not even his soulmate, would be able to see it, let alone recognize it as a copy of their own.

All those years of being told that the universe’s will was absolute and that a splotch of blue ink was the highest law that could be adhered to had been rendered invalid with two swipes of a knife. Jungwon had freed himself from the heavy, groundless expectations set by an invisible force and upheld by your friends, family, society. 

The one thing that kept Jungwon from being completely yours (at least, in the eyes of everyone else), was now gone.

The knife lay discarded next to the two of you, blottings of Jungwon’s blood staining the blade and the picnic blanket beneath it.

“Y/N, if you’ll still have me-”

You picked up the knife, already brushing your shirt to the side with your other hand.

“Wait, I never expected you to-” he tried to stop you.

“I want to.”

His hands reached out toward you but stopped halfway, watching, confused, as your fingers traced the mark that, while completely different from his, was in the same exact spot on your chest.

You could feel your heart beating beneath your soulmate mark. It was pumping hard, as if to force the mark off your body from the inside. You thought of how much time you had spent hating the tattoo, wishing you would wake up one day and it would be gone or would have somehow morphed into something that resembled Jungwon’s. 

You recalled the night when you realized that you loved Jungwon, no matter how much your own skin was telling you you didn’t, and you had tried to scratch the ink off. Of course, it was much too deep to take off like that, and the resulting redness just made it stand out even more like Jungwon’s had, results of the contempt for your marks.

You mirrored your boyfriend’s movements from before, crossing out your tattoo with the knife and ignoring the bleeding. Jungwon went to clean up the wound with napkins, like you had done for him, but you stalled him, wanting every last remnant of ink to bleed out of your body.

Once the bleeding had slowed down, Jungwon placed a hand over your heart that beat solely for him. His thumb rubbed the tender skin gently, marveling at the new look of it while still being careful around the fresh cuts.

“Look, Wonnie.” you point a finger at his hand on your chest and another at his own. “We match.”

The two of you had overridden the universe and created your own matching pair. A soulmate pair. 

Jungwon smiled warmly, a giggle escaping past his lips as you shared this moment of disbelief and freedom and love.

He cradled your face in his hands once again, pressing his lips to yours and making you question how something so obviously perfect could ever be a mistake.

-

A/N: i hope that this isn’t… too much, the idea of two people making this choice for themselves, in this way, knowing that they were defying a fundamental law… i thought it was so romantic! drama is a little necessary when it comes to love, you know?

mwah <3

[wandsandwheezes]

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH4

one // two // three

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff, cheating

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London’s best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

A/N // im so sorry to the vanilla beans for this one xxxx

Green was definitely your colour. At least that’s what George thought as you ran down the stairs, the dress you were wearing was elegant and sophisticated but still casual, George thought you looked absolutely ravishing in everything you wore. You smiled lovingly at him when you caught him staring. You hadn't spoke to Fred since the incident when he tried to kiss you, having well and truly avoided the topic for at least 3 days. you were not looking forward to having to feign your love for each other. 

Despite the fact that Fred had already apologised, it didn't make things any easier. "You look beautiful." he stated, as you straightened his tie and flattened down his hair, "And you look a mess, Fred". His tired eyes looked at you pleadingly, as his hands came up to button his suit jacket. George and his heavy stride came barrelling down the stairs, when you spotted him, he looked like a work of art, his features were glowing and he was clean shaven, perfect hair hanging and framing his face, a request from you that he should grow it out a little more than usual. He didn't look stressed or worried like Fred did, and in this moment you realised the toll that days like this took on Fred and George did too. 

The shop was perfectly pristine, the new massive display fully stocked and the centre of attention, Fred had briefed the employees this morning, making sure that they knew the drill. Crowds and the press were all gathered outside in anticipation, the volume growing so much that you began to hear it from within the confines of the shop. 

When the doors swung open, it well and truly became show time. You hung delicately off of Fred's arm, as you stepped out of the opening doors, huge flashes of cameras, as well as cheers of excitement all bombarded your senses, however it was nothing compared to the thrill of the stadium. 

Fred began to deliver the speech about the new line of products, taking a moment to thank the investors and patrons of the shop, George followed on by unveiling the collection of items from the new line, the gorgeous green packaging complimenting your dress perfectly. Your eyes were fixated on the man of your dreams as he talked with such passion and vigour. You had to remind yourself that there were hundreds if not, thousands of eyes on you and that you probably shouldn't have been staring at George the way you were but you just couldn't help it. Fred once again takes to the stage to begin the personal thank yous before the store opens. 

"we want to thank the family for their continued support in our endeavours, also, Cheryl, our press manager and last but very not least my gorgeous girl, who has been with us every step of the way." he beckoned you onto the stage, as he continued, "Even though she has quidditch practice out of her ears for the big game next week, she always finds the time to brighten my day." His hand snuck around your waist before travelling down to firmly grab your ass. 

Fred's mind was racing, he thought that here would be the perfect opportunity to finally have his lips on yours, crashing them down onto you without even a second thought. There was absolutely no way you could pull away in front of everyone, you were conflicted. The frantic flashing, as well as cheers and woos from the crowd were distraction enough. It was stopping you from hurling sick directly into his mouth at the thought of George being subjected to this bullshit. 

George watched the events unfold before him, stopping himself from ripping you away protectively. He wanted to cut off Fred's hand more than ever, disgusted that he had the balls to grab your perfect ass so candidly in public - an ass that didn't even belong to him. George was absolutely livid, he could tell your discomfort a mile away. His heart shattering at how hopeless and weak you were to the situation. 

The doors of the shop finally opened and shoppers began to swarm in, ready to grab the latest products and creating a comforting blanket of noise. Cherry was smiling happily at you, sending a wink and a thumbs up your way. Your eyes however were searching for your Lover, disappointed he was nowhere to be seen, you pull out your phone to see a text from less than a minute ago.

>> Toilets, Now. Don't make me wait x

This was not good, but your heart raced faster with every step you took towards the bathroom, the door was slightly ajar when you got there, slipping into the cosy room you noticed George there and waiting, you shut the door behind you, flicking the lock before you heard him cast a silencing charm on the room, you heard the sounds of the bustling shop slowly fade, leaving the only audible sound as your staggered breath. 

George's strong hand was on your cheek as he kissed you passionately. This kiss felt right, a thousand sparks of electricity coursing through you the very second your lips touched and you felt as if the whole world was spinning. His lips were the perfect warmth against yours, the sticky saliva rolling off both of your tongues as he parted your lips with his, taking the opportunity to swipe his tongue over yours, letting you know who you belonged to. He was moaning into your mouth, an action that made your cunt throb with anticipation. He pulled away only enough to spit directly into your mouth before feverishly shoving you down to your knees. "Use that wet mouth of yours, now Princess."

Your needy hands were unbuckling his belt, metal clinking against itself as you pulled his hard on out from his trousers, you obliged immediately, lips wrapping around his cock as you sucked, taking him deep down your throat. The sounds you made as you gagged on his thick shaft were sending him to heaven, his hand was firmly gripping your jaw as he coaxed nearly his whole length down your throat. You pulled away for air, moaning as he slipped out of your mouth, your hand came up to stroke him quickly before taking him past your lips again. This time however, George took no solace as his hand gripped into your hair, making it the perfect leverage to hold your face in place as he rocked his hips, cock fucking every flicker of anger directly down your throat. Hearing you choke and splutter with every thrust was only egging him on more, it was one of his favourite sounds and he couldn't get enough. 

"I hope he fuckling likes how my cock tastes." he growled as he locked eyes with you. "That's it take it all, my good little cockwhore." he was still fucking your mouth, chasing his own release, your hands gripped the back of his thighs as he pushed himself fully into your mouth, hot streams of his cum hitting the back of your throat, spilling out of your mouth as he pulled himself free. His thumb swiped from the corner of your mouth, "Swallow like a good little girl." he marvelled at you eagerly taking his thumb into your mouth. He smiled proudly when you opened your mouth, seeing every last drop gone. 

You loved it when George used your mouth like a fuck toy, it didn't happen often, but when it did, he was often angry like now or stressed and desperate for a release. "Up. get up on the sink." he commanded, you immediately pulled yourself to your feet, sitting up on the sink, his hands coming up to spread your legs apart as he found himself on his knees before you. "Tell me who you belong to." you sighed as his finger hooked quickly into your underwear pulling it to the side, you felt his breath fanning over your exposed pussy. "You, George, only you."

"Good, let's see if Daddy can help his pretty girl then, hm?" His sinful lips had attached to your clit, sucking slowly as his tongue lapped over it, the pleasure of being touched pulled a long desperate moan from you, you thanked that he had at least silenced the room, because with every motion and movement of his skilled tongue, you were moaning and spluttering, desperate to have a release. "Georgie, your tongue is so good!" he hummed in appreciation, thumb running through your sticky sweetness before coming up to circle over your clit at an antagonising rate. "I wanna cum daddy, please, feels too good." he chuckled, lips pressing dainty kisses along your inner thighs and right over your tight hole, before blowing a gentle cool breeze over your whole wet and glistening cunt. 

His hands found your thighs, hooking them into his arms to move and press your back against the wall. "I don't even care if we get caught or if I'm taking too long anymore, you're mine and I fuck you when I want." he pulled your hips down onto him, making you bounce against him a little, you knew it wouldn't take you long to be coming all over him, you were already a blubbering mess for him, pulling every moan from your lips as he kissed you feverishly. He knew he'd hit the right spot when you clenched all around him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He pulled out of you, leaving you sat on the counter as your legs still shook from the orgasm running through your muscles. 

He used the mirror to make himself presentable once again, smirking as he left you blissed out on the counter, pressing a simple kiss to your lips. "Such a good girl, I love you, baby." He was out of the door before you knew it and you were left with your own juices running down your legs. You looked in the mirror, taken back by just how fucked out you looked, making yourself smile, George really did do a good job with his girl. You pulled yourself together, quickly, using a spell to fix up your hair and makeup, thankfully in time for Cherry to burst through the door. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you."

The small clip of her heels against the hardwood floor as you followed her to find Fred, was enough to pull you back down to earth, still high off the rush of ecstasy. It was no doubt she was wrangling you and Fred together for a picture opportunity, spotting George smirking as he clocked just how distracted you were. Smiling and posing for the cameras was second nature, Fred was watching just how happy you looked, his heart beating faster at the thought that you were smiling because of him. 

"Simply another perfect kiss from a star couple!" Cherry beamed before parading off to talk to the reporters. Fred's brow furrowed, "Another?" he queried, you'd realised now that he hadn't yet seen the paper with yourself and George caught on the cover. "She's probably comparing us to someone else, Freddie." you shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "Yeah, Probably." sadness falling to the pit of his stomach, the girl he was crazy for wouldn't even look at him, and he wanted nothing more than the electricity of his lips against hers once more, he needed it, no - he craved it. 

>>>>> Chapter 5

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[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts

Part 5:

When you wake up the next morning, your blankets are folded. They’re folded and piled neatly next to rearranged pillows, not even a crease left in your couch cushions from where he’d slept. It’s like he was never even there in the first place, but then you walk into your kitchen. There’s a muffin sitting on your counter, a note attached on top of it’s plastic container. 

Your couch is fucking shitty, but thanks I guess. I only bought you this so you don’t complain. I don’t owe you shit, leech.

It’s a strange sort of fondness that eclispes you then, so faint that you almost don’t even catch it. You never thought you’d have a soft spot for anything Bakugou did- but you figure leech isn’t so bad. Way better than witch or any of the other names he’d called you anyway.

You remove the note, popping open the plastic lid. The muffin’s long gone cold, but you figured that was about right; Bakugou did seem the type to be fussy about rising early. Still, you tear away the paper, smiling while you take a bite, chewing and-

Bran.

Bakugou bought you a bran muffin.

Suddenly, and you’re sure it must be brain damage, but you feel a little warmer than before. You spit out the disgusting muffin with an exasperated laugh, wondering just where the hell he even managed to buy such an abomination.

—//—

A few weeks later, you’re locking the back door behind you, once again stepping into the street. You see him the second you turn around, clad in costume and leaning against the wall. You can’t really see his face well in the low light, but no shadows could hide those red eyes you’d come to know.

There’s that weird sensation again, a subtle warmth settling in your chest at the sight of him. You’d been feeling it for weeks now, this strange pride overcoming you every time you’d seen him succeed. Whether it was on the news or on magazines, or even in commericials, you felt a strange peace at seeing his face. You try to convince yourself that it’s just the same happiness you feel at seeing anybody you healed- but it’s more than that.

You’d come to realize you thought of Bakugou as more than just a patient. He was nearing more of a strange sort of friend. Albeit one that frequently made you want to tear your hair out.

He shifts, standing straighter while you look at him, and you’re not sure what you were expecting, but his costume looks intimidating. The only time you’d seen it before, that very first night you’d met him, he hadn’t had his gauntlets or his headpiece. Now he’s standing in front of you, arms entrapped by giants grenades and sharp spikes behind his ears. He looks larger than life- so loud and proud that you almost can’t match the tired and injured Bakugou you knew to the seemingly invincible Dynamite he was now.

“I got your gift.” You break the ice with a small smile, stepping away from the door.

“You did, huh? You like it?”

“Oh my god, wipe the smirk off your face. I can hear it, you asshole.” You roll your eyes at his tone. “I didn’t like it. It was disgusting! Where the hell did you even get it?”

“Bakery down the street. Not that it matters since you’re fuckin’ ungrateful. Apparently.”

“Bakugou- you invited yourself into my house, and then left me a war-crime for breakfast! You try being grateful when that happens- trust me, it’s hard.”

He just shrugs, falling into step with you as you continue down the alley.

“Oh, okay, so is this just, like, a thing you’re doing now? Stalking me home-“

“Walking.” He interrupts sternly, clearly not finding humor in your joke. “Stupid shit like this is my fuckin’ job, okay- so don’t go thinking you’re special.”

“Oh I don’t. Believe me, you’ve made it very clear that you don’t even like- oh my god, are you bleeding?”

When he finally steps into the light of the street lamps, you can see blood glisten something sickly as it drips from his nose. It hardly reaches his lip before Bakugou is grunting, smearing it away on the back of his hand. There’s a strange torpidity to his  movements, and it’s not until you meet his eyes that you realize it- he’s tired again, sleepless and ghostly just like every other time you’d ever seen him.

“What’s with the nose? I thought you said you didn’t get hurt often. What happened to that, huh?”

“You try fighting on less than 3 hours of sleep a night. Shit fuckin’ adds up. Makes you sloppy.” He defends, grumbling under his breath as he wipes away more blood. “I doubt you’d do any fuckin’ better.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t. I’m sure I wouldn’t.” You stop, staring him down until he spins to face you. “Can I see it? I think it’s broken.”

“No fuckin’ shit.”

“Bakugou, c’mon. I’m trying to help.” You roll your eyes at him. “Drop the attitude please.”

“Why the hell do you even care? Hah?”

“Because, contrary to your very disrespectful insults, I’m actually a pretty good nurse, alright? And that means I try my best to help injured people when I see them. Even when they’re rude to me.”

“Who the fuck said I’m rude?”

“Me. I’m saying it.” You insist, stepping closer to him. He smells like blood and smoke, still clad in his hero costume, but you approach anyway. “But, really, can I see? If it’s broken then it’s just going to keep bleeding unless you do something about it.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, but seems to relent without much fight. He removes his mask, revealing the now familiar purpling under his eyes. You briefly wonder if he has a make-up artist- he never looked nearly that tired when he was doing interviews for the media. 

You shake off the musing, reaching for his face and gently running your thumbs along his nose. Bakugou sucks a breath, and when you meet his eyes they’re guarded. He looks nervous, almost unsure under your touch, but you try your best to reassure him with a confident smile. Over the bridge of his nose you can feel swelling and aged scarring, but there cartilage feels intact. You breathe a sigh of relief. 

“I think you might just be stuck with the swelling, but otherwise you’re good. Nothing’s broken.” You say easily, dropping your hands from his face as you take a step back. “Although, must’ve been some hit- you’ve already got a bit of bruising under your eyes.” 

“Wow, thanks for the report- of all the baseline shit I already fuckin’ knew.” 

“Don’t you ever get tired? You know, of being so mean all the time?” You level him with an unimpressed look, before digging in your purse for your pack of tissues. You fish a few out, pressing them into his hand. “Listen, you don’t deserve these, especially after that last remark, but take them anyways. And do me a favor and chill out, alright? I wasn’t trying to waste your time. I was just checking to see that the bleeding was from the impact and not anything else.”

“Yeah. Whatever, leech. I just don’t understand why you had to fuckin’ manhandle me to do it.”

“Please, I touched your nose, drama queen. And, even if I actually wanted to, I’m pretty sure you’d blow me up way before I even got that far.”

“Damn right.”

“Yep, and there he is.” You tease, turning down a side street. “Was hoping I’d get to experience another blatant display of your egotism sometime soon. Totally glad I don’t have to wait any longer.”

Bakugou scoffs, turning away, but you don’t miss it: his lip twitches. Just a bit, it hardly even counts, but you see it.

“You know, we really have to stop meeting like this.” You smile.

“Hell does that mean? Hah?”

“I mean, you need to stop running yourself ragged. You look terrible, and you’re getting yourself hurt. It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what’s fuckin’ healthy.”

“Well if thought you knew, I wouldn’t have to tell you.”

“Don’t act like you’re so fuckin’ smart. You’re not.”

“Hey- no insults. You agreed, remember?”

“Because you fuckin’ made me, you bitch.” He grumbles, pressing another tissue into his nose. “And it’s not an insult if it’s a fact.”

“Hey, genuine question- have you ever tried just, like, I don’t know, being nice to people? Just asking out of curiosity.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Oh, that wasn’t a joke. I’m genuinely curious.” You say, your grin only growing wider at the sight of his grimace. “Like, if it was a life or death situation, and someone told you that you had to give a genuine compliment or be burned to death, you’d be an absolute crisp, right? Right?”

“Wrong. Fuckin’ idiot.”

“Oh. Okay. I mean I don’t believe you at all, but that’s okay.”

“Hell does that mean?”

“It means I don’t think you could do it.”

“I could.”

“You absolutely couldn’t.” 

“I fuckin’ could, you leech.”

“See now that just proves my point.” You smile easily. “Feel free to prove me wrong though.” 

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, but you see his pinched expression and that says enough. He knows he couldn’t do it just as much as you did.

From then on you walk in relative silence, and after a few more tissues from your purse, he finally stops bleeding all over the pavement. It’s a weird sort of stillness that ensuses but you find you don’t mind much.

“Aren’t you on patrol?” You ask.

“Obviously. What, the costume wasn’t enough to tell ya that? You seriously telling me your dumbass couldn’t figure that out?”

“You’re so difficult, I swear.” You roll your eyes. “What I meant, is don’t you have a job to get to? Instead of just walking me home.”

“What the hell do you think patrol is?”

“I don’t know, you tell me, hero.”

“It’s walking the streets. For fuckin’ hours and being bored as shit. That’s what it is.”

“Oh. Okay, so basically this, huh.” You sigh. “How do you always end up so hurt then?”

“I fuckin’ don’t. Or didn’t used to.” He grits, kicking at a rock in the road with his boot. “But there’s lots of fuckin’ idiots with surprise quirks. It’s absolute bullshit some of the powers people end up with.” 

“So you’re telling me even the great Dynamite loses sometimes?”

“No. Never.” 

“What about that first night then? When you landed on my balcony?” You ask quietly, pulling your keycard out as you begin to near your apartment complex. “You were unconscious.”

“It wasn’t- I didn’t lose, you fuckin’ idiot. That was different.”

There’s something in his voice- an unusual tension that’s only amplified by the way he clenches his jaw and shakes his head. Bakugou looks strange, his forehead split by a crease you’d never seen on him before. It hardly lasts a second though, and then he’s blinking it away, eyes hardening like it was never even there in the first place.

“Yeah?” You’re swiping your keycard, turning back to face him with your hand on the door handle. You try to keep your tone light. “Tell me how.”

“It’s none of your fuckin’ business.” 

“Is that your default answer for everything? C’mon, I’ve always been curious about it.”

“You shouldn’t be. It’s not your problem.”

“Yeah, maybe not, but I’m sure if I wound up half-dead on your doorstep you’d be curious too. So, c’mon, indulge me.” 

“No.” He grits.

“Seriously?” You huff, trying to keep the slight frustration out of your voice. You just didn’t understand him. “Why not?”

“Because.”

“Bakugou, seriously, it’s just a question and I don’t understand why-” 

“Stop fuckin’ pushing!” He suddenly roars, spitting as he seethes. His palms are crackling, gauntlets glinting dangerously under the street lamps. “Jesus fucking christ, you never shut the hell up! Don’t you get it? We’re not fucking friends! Stop asking me shit and digging in my fuckin’ business like you’re special!”

You shrink back, a little taken aback by his tone. You hadn’t realized just how used to his normal grumbling you’d become, but the outright venom in his voice shocked you. His eyes were blazing, red and fiery and harsh against the black of his mask. It wasn’t like before. He wasn’t joking and it wasn’t an empty threat, he wanted to scare you off this time. 

You quickly realized you’d become way too comfortable. Somehow you’d forgotten just how much he truly didn’t like you. And how short his fuse was.

“Yeah. I- uh, I’m sorry.” You fumble over your words, unable to hold his gaze. “It’s not my business. Sorry.” 

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, just sneering before turning his back and stomping off. You think there’s blood rushing in your ears, but his heavy boots are louder, striking against the pavement like thunder. He’s off in a cacophony of metallic clanking and heavy breathing, leaving a strange vacuum of silence behind him. You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of your uneasiness. He’d blown up and left so quickly you’d hardly even processed it. Left you standing in the street, blinking away the whiplash, and scrunching your nose at the smell of gunpowder and nitroglycerin.

With shaking hands, you pull open the door, head reeling as you step into the elevator. There’s guilt settling in your stomach by the time you reach your floor, practically suffocating you when you step into your apartment.

You shouldn’t have pried. You shouldn’t have, because he didn’t technically owe you anything, especially not if it was a bad memory for him- and you didn’t need your quirk to tell you that’s what it was for him. 

Bakugou was right. You weren’t friends. You hardly knew him; even if sometimes it felt like you saw vulnerable parts of him nobody else did.

Ridding yourself of the thought, you decide to settle in for a calm night. You’d originally planned to make a trip to the store for some food, but now you just weren’t feeling up to it. What you were feeling up to was some take-out, so you pulled out a menu and ordered your usual.

You showered, changing into pajamas and throwing your hair up before your food arrived, trying not to stew over your latest disastrous interaction with Bakugou. 

A part of you wondered what was up with him, especially because the longer you thought about it, the more his voice seemed to sound vulnerable. When he’d yelled it was like the sound was eating away at his throat, like it had been sitting there for a while and building. There was no emphasis to any of his words, all of them tumbling out with the same rage. Like the words were less important than the expression itself. You’d love to just throw the interaction away as nothing more than anger at your prying, but it didn’t read like that to you. You’d been reading secondhand emotions your entire life, you knew them like an entirely separate language, and something about Bakugou’s outburst felt layered to you- like his rage was something opportunistic that had just been searching for an outlet.

You wonder again about what happened all those months ago, wonder just what must happen in his day-to-day life to make him that angry. You’ve learned your lesson though- you won’t let yourself mistakenly feel comfortable enough to ask him again. 

Something about that thought makes you a little sad, as this wasn’t the first time you’d ran into this problem. You weren’t sure if it was a byproduct of your quirk or if it was just you, but you’d sort of always cared about people disproportionately. Somehow always came on too strong. Your heart was big enough to bleed for just about anybody. 

There’s a knock on your door, and you rise to get your food. It’s hot in your hands, the smell wafting deliciously, but you hardly even recognize it, caught off-guard by another knock. This one’s at your back door, and it’s softer. Tentative and light against the glass. You set your food down, spinning to face the noise. 

You can hardly hide your surprise, and he must see it too. He’s rolling his eyes then, knuckles rapping against the glass once more. He’s clad in sweats, devoid of his hero costume from earlier, and there’s a bag in his hands. He’s shuffling it impatiently as you near the door.

“Bakugou? I-” You start, sliding the door open for him to step in. 

“Save it. Apologies are wimp shit.” He growls, stepping past you with large strides. “We both know why I’m here so just shut the fuck up and get on with it already.” 

There’s a lot of things you want to ask him in that moment- why he’s showing up so late, how he even knew which balcony was yours, why there’s a bruise on his jaw that you’re sure wasn’t there before, but mostly, why he even came back at all. With how angry he was, you were sure you’d run him off for a while. 

“It’s- no. I have to apologize, I do.” You tell him, trying to catch his gaze. Bakugou doesn’t let you, but you continue trying anyway. “Really. Your business is your business and I shouldn’t have pried. I wasn’t trying to be rude, I really was just curious. Still though, if you don’t want to say you absolutely don’t have to, and I shouldn’t have pushed it.” 

“Why do you even care?”

“You asked me that earlier.” You note softly, taking a deep breath before talking again. “And I meant it, what I said, about being a nurse. But I’m also just me, and that means I care about everyone. Everyone and everything. All the time.” 

“That’s fuckin’ stupid.”

“I mean, for my mental health? Yeah. Absolutely.” You laugh sardonically, fiddling with a piece of your hair as you continue. “But I don’t regret it, and there’s pretty much nothing I can do to stop it. Caring about everyone is like, my biggest character trait-”

“Character flaw.”

“No. I think it’s a good thing. But I get how it could be uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of it. And that maybe, I sometimes come off as invasive when really I’m just concerned. Sorry if I got too comfortable with you. I’ll try not to let it happen again. “

“That’s not-” Bakugou curses under his breath, before whipping around to face you. He’s blushing slightly, fist clenching the paper bag he’s holding. “I was just mad. Not every goddamn thing is about you. So don’t be a fuckin’ idiot and go reading into it like that.” 

Truly, you’re not sure how to take his comment. You felt like you were definitely in the wrong, but Bakugou seemed serious. His eyes were full of a new sincerity you’d hardly seen in him before. 

“Yeah. Okay. I can do that.” You smile unsurely. Then you’re walking past him, returning back to your food in the kitchen. “So, you planning to sleep on my couch again?” 

“Fuckin’ obviously. Gonna eat first though.”

“Oh I’m sure. That’s what’s in the bag, right?” You ask, beginning to unpack your own food. At his nod, you begin speaking once more. “Makes sense. I’m sure you’ve gotta be hungry after lugging those gauntlets around. Those are massive, you know?” 

“Yep. I know.”

When you look up at him, he’s got that signature smirk pulled across his face. You let the sarcasm seep thickly into your words. “If I didn’t know any better, that’d sound a lot like pride.”

“It might be.”

“Oh, so you’re proud of dragging those huge weapons around? You know, why doesn’t that surprise me? Of course you are.” 

Bakugou just shrugs, making himself a home of your kitchen table, grunting slightly as he tears the plastic lid off his container of food. Almost immediately something spicy and nearly choking permeates the air. You scrunch your nose up with a shiver.

“What the hell is that?” You ask him incredulously, picking at your food while standing at the counter. You’d briefly thought about joining him at the table, but the option looks absolutely unappealing now. “That smells lethal, Bakugou! Who needs something that spicy? Are you trying to kill yourself?” 

“Oi, chill the hell out, it’s not even bad. You’re just a fuckin’ wimp.”

“Hey, no insults, remember?” 

“God, you’re gonna kill me with that shit.” He grumbles, but he’s stabbing at his noodles with a tiny, barely-there tilt to his lips. “You should abandon that.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that.” 

“Why the hell not?”

“Because you’d have way too much fun with it.” You smile, taking another bite. “And because it’d be like when I stitched you up all over again. You were so mean.”

“I was not. Fuckin’ baby.”

“You were. Do you not remember telling me to shut the fuck up? To my face? Like, minutes after I started fixing you up!” 

“Because you were being fucking annoying!” He challenges, that same hint of amusement in his eyes. “How in the hell is that my fault?”

“It’s your fault because everything seems to annoy you.”

“Yeah, well everything is fucking bullshit. Again, how is that my fault.” 

“God, you’re impossible.” You groan, setting your fork down. You open your fridge, hand grasping at a water bottle before you turn back to him. “You want a drink? Pretty much all I have is water, but you’re welcome to that.”

Bakugou nods, but then he’s tilting his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. “You’re a shitty host. Only offering me a drink when I’m already half-way through my meal. That shit’s embarrassing as hell.” 

“Bakugou. Open your mouth again and I swear I’ll chuck this at you.” 

“Do it, leech.” 

“Is that a challenge?”

“Are you fucking braindead? Of course it is.” 

Then Bakugou’s leaning forward in his seat, eyes tracking you intensely. There’s that same life in them from the last time you saw him- that same look that’s all softly-licking flames and absolutely no inferno. It makes you smile.

“Actually, no, you know what? I absolutely will not be stooping to your aggressive level.” You near him, making a point to press the water bottle gently into his waiting hand. “Not tonight, you absolute madman.” 

“Boring.”

“No. Not boring. It’s responsible.”

“Those are fuckin’ synonyms, leech.” 

“Wow, I didn’t think you even knew what synonyms were.” 

“You think I’m stupid? Fat fuckin’ chance.” He sneers, shoveling another forkful of noodles into his mouth. “Or did you just forget when I figured out how your shitty quirk worked before you did?” 

"No. I didn’t forget. And I’m still mad at you for that so let’s not bring it up, please.”

“Hell are you mad for, woman? Did you a fuckin’ favor.” 

“Hm, maybe because you figured it out within like, basically moments of meeting me?” You glare at him, but it’s half-hearted and the look on his face tells you Bakugou knows it is too. “Oh, and how, maybe I’ve always kind of had these weird symptoms my entire life, and you figured them out before I did?”

“Who cares who figured it out? Just fix your shit now and stop fuckin’ complaining.” 

“Fix my shit? Fix my shit? Bakugou!” You throw your fork down, sighing in frustration. “My shit is literally not being able to touch anybody without getting drained! My shit is basically not being able to function properly in every day life!”

“Yeah? So? Just quit being a bitch and figure out how to build up your stamina then.” He shrugs, sliding his empty container away as he sips at his water. “Easy fuckin’ solution.” 

“It’s not that easy. I can’t control it, it just happens.” 

“Really? You sure you’re not trying anything with it?”

“No?”

Bakugou just squints at you funny, something confused flitting across his features for a moment. “Really? Fuckin’ sure? Nothing at all?”

“No? Why’re you- what are you asking?” 

“When you brought me back, the first time, you were like, in my fuckin’ brain or something.” He grumbles, looking away. “It’s not gonna make sense, but I didn’t know it was you until you said shit. But then you opened your mouth and I could tell it was you pushing all the bad shit away.”

“Was it green?”

“Hah?”

“Green.” You worry at your hands, trying to gather your thoughts in a way that made sense. “My whole life, people have told me that it’s green when I help them. Not like, a color they can see, but that it’s just something they know. That somehow I’m green. In their head, I mean.”

“Yeah. Actually.” He mumbles, clearing his throat. “Freaked me the hell out.”

“Sorry. It’s- I normally try to warn people about that before I do it, you know? But obviously that wasn’t an option for you.”

“Yeah.” He agrees, then Bakugou is zoning out, leg bouncing under the table. He blinks, suddenly whipping his head around to you. “You ever try doing it till you pass out?”

“No? Well- I mean, no, not like, formally. Sometimes it just happens though. Why?”

“Because you need a fuckin’ threshold, idiot. A limit. How the hell else are you supposed to know if you’re getting stronger?” 

“I don’t- I don’t think my quirk is really a thing you can strengthen. Not like that at least.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Not your quirk, dumbass. You. You need to get stronger. Learn to work around your quirk.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” 

He turns away another moment, and the silence he leaves behind him baffles you. Bakugou’s got his eyebrows drawn inward, hand in his palm as he idly rubs at the bruise on his chin. You gather up his empty container from him, throwing it in the garbage with your own, but he doesn’t spare you a glance. Whatever he was thinking about, almost seemed to hold him captive. 

“Oi- Leech.” He says calmly, red eyes sliding over to yours lazily. “Touch a shit-load of people and fight though it. That’s how you do it.” 

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” 

When you look at him, Bakugou’s mouth is set in a straight line, determined and steady as he crosses his arms over his chest. He really isn’t kidding.

“That’s not gonna work, I’ve been doing that practically my whole life and look where I am.”

“No, you’re not fucking listening, you moron.” He grumbles, rolling his eyes again. “I said just touch them. Not use your fuckin’ quirk. That’ll wipe you way too quick. You just have to touch a bunch of people all in a row, and suck it the hell up. Keep pushing. Eventually you’ll be able to touch way more people in the test setting than you’ll ever have to in a normal day. Problem fuckin’ solved.” 

“That’s-” You breathe out, beginning to wrap your head around it. “I’ve never done that. On purpose I mean. I wonder- I mean, I think that could work. Maybe.” 

“Of course it’ll fuckin’ work.” 

“Yeah, hypothetically, maybe. But where am I gonna get that many people? And for days in a row?” 

“Fuck should I know? That’s not my problem.”

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously.” He shrugs, standing up as he stretches his arms over his head. He yawns widely into his hand, regarding you with tired eyes. “You figure that one out. I already did all the other fuckin’ work.” 

“You thought of one solution.”

“One solution your dumbass didn’t fuckin’ think up.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Thank you very much.” You mutter in mock-offense, following behind him as he walks out into your living room. “You ready to sleep?”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ hate listening to you run your mouth.”

You feel something hot and irritated rise in your throat. Then you’re looking over at him, at his smile and the way it crinkles his eyes. There’s no malice to his insult, and if anything he only seems thrilled when you rise to the challenge.

“And I hate having to clean up your blood pretty much every time I see you. Guess we’re both miserable.” You joke, curling your lips into a sneer to match his own. “And I won’t forget, asshole, you owe me a new packet of tissues.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just put me to sleep already.” 

Then he’s collapsing onto your couch, settling into the pillows and grabbing the blanket off the back in one fell-swoop. There’s a fluidness to his movements that has you rolling your eyes, hardly even able to believe it was only the second time he’d been there.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure, do whatever you want. Make yourself totally at home, Bakugou! My living room is obviously for you and you only.”

“Fuckin’ knew it.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“And? I’ll decide to take it however the hell I want.”

“You’re really irritating, you know that?” You half-laugh, pulling one of your gloves from your fingers. “Now, c’mon gimme your hand- wait, actually, I’ve got something else to say first.” 

“Jesus christ, what?” 

“I want you to come around more often.” 

He just shrinks back into the cushions, mouth twisting up comically. “What the hell? That a joke or some shit?”

“No. I’m serious. If you being tired is why you’re always getting hurt, then you need to come around more often. I promise I won’t give you shit for it.” You reassure him. “I’d just- I’d much rather see you here than in the hospital, you know?” 

He seems to just balk even more at your words, tilting his head to the side. “Why the fuck would ya go and volunteer for that?”

“Because, I care about everybody and everything. All the time, remember?”

Something must click for him then, because then he’s nodding, extending a hand towards yours. He won’t meet your eyes, but there’s something a little different about his expression. It’s softer, the tension in his eyebrows almost seeming to melt away entirely.

You grasp his hand, veins once again filling with subtle fire. You wonder suddenly, if using your quirk would afford him sleep for longer, but when you look down at him, you decide against asking. Bakugou’s already got his eyes closed, hand slipping out of yours as he goes completely lax against the cushions. It takes hardly minutes, but then his breath is slowing, and his eyelids are fluttering, but suddenly he jolts. His eyes are half-lidded and his voice sleep-drunk when he speaks.

“Your shitty quirk’s good at fuckin’ puttin’ people to sleep.” He grumbles suddenly, pressing his face further into the pillow. “There. ‘s a compliment. ‘m not burnin’ today. Eat shit, leech.” 

You can hardly hold in your giggle, but it doesn’t matter. Bakugou is snoring almost the second he finishes his thought, limbs stilling almost entirely except for subtle twitches. 

When you turn the lights out, walking back to your room, you feel it again. 

A faint fondness. A slow-burning warmth just barely settling in your chest. 

-//-

pls bc i havent edited this at all i was just excited to post lmaooo

taglist:  @fluffyviciousbunny @definitelynottrin @imsuperawkward @i-need-air @ahbeautifulexistence @brennabooz @jazzylove @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @katsuki-bakubabe @sorrythatspussynal @bakugouswh0r3 @cloudsgathering @un-limit-edd @thekatsukisimp @pollayra21 @the2ndl @officialtrashbusiness @waffleareniceandfluffy @monempathieetmoi @koiwoshinai @christianagrace9

[heavywithourbabies]

Ten pounds, One week

She couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned (well as best as she could) and tried everything she could think of to put her mind at ease but she just couldn’t sleep. It was too much. All of it was too much. Her whole body was aching and sore, the slightest movement causing more discomfort. Even in their bed, the place she loved most, the mattress was an unforgiving rock to her body. The pillows far too soft without any support. Even the body pillow felt stiff and rigid against her. “10 pounds” she thought, over and over again. “10 pounds”. Then the other thought came. The one she was trying so hard to keep away. The one that caused her the most frightful heart racing anxiety she had ever felt. One more week. The baby kicked slightly and she whimpered. Rubbing her aching belly to try and sooth him, but it only prompted more movement under her taut flesh. Her husband snored next to her and she was on the verge of tears. Her whole body felt like a prison at this point. Completely trapped in this cumbersome and awkwardly huge body, she couldn’t find any relief. It all was too much. It hurt too much. She took a deep breath in and told herself it would be over soon. That this would all be worth it. She closed her eyes and tried to drift off but then the baby kicked again. Hard. She couldn’t help but moan in pain as the thought struck her again. “10 pounds. One week.” The baby kicked her again almost in her cervix and she cried out, unable to hold back the tears which had been building almost all night.

           He woke up next to her, hearing her sobs. He was still half asleep but knew the sound of his wife in pain, and it broke his heart. He turned to her back in bed and started rubbing it. “Baby” he said “What’s wrong?”

           She buried her face deeper in the pillow and cried harder. He kept rubbing her back and cuddled up close to her, her bare skin hot to the touch. “Honey, please. Tell me.” He said with genuine concern and love for her.

           “It’s everything” she said between cries. “It’s everything that’s happened to me, it’s what’s going to happen, it’s what’s happening…” He gently put his hand on her shoulder. “Baby, please, I don’t understand what you’re saying – “he began before she looked at him with tears running down her face. She swallowed and started to say “it’s the – “but then the baby kicked her again, or perhaps punch was the better word since he was upside down. She yelped and threw the blankets back to expose herself.

           “It’s THIS!!” She cried, looking at her body.

            She had always had a bit of an hourglass figure with well-rounded curves and even with a few extra pounds she was attractive but the pregnancy had taken that from her. In her mind she felt altered. Helpless in this state. Almost mutated……into this. Her hips flared in pain as she turned on her back and tried to sit up against the pillows. They had separated a bit and the awful weight of it all wore down on her pelvis. She felt as if a bowling ball was sitting right atop of her vagina. Which was also aching and taken from her in the pregnancy. In her mind it used to be a small cute thing with pretty floral lips that she could spread and play with. Now it was thick and fatty. Meaty and big. Her lips bulged out, deep and dark, and she couldn’t stand to wear underwear anymore as the hamburger that was her crotch would constantly leak and ruin everything. It was obscene to her. Her most private feminine parts exaggerated into cartoonish proportions. Her thighs ached from carrying all the extra weight and her ass…. she had always been proud of it being big and she knew her husband loved it but now it was huge and plump. Something anyone could notice and stare at. Her breasts once a double d had swollen twice their size. Small stretch marks adorned the underside of them and veins could be seen under the thick flesh. They became heavy and hurt. Aching with milk for the baby. Her areolas were dinner plates now, dark and huge. Her nipples stood painfully erect as drops of milk throbbed out of their ducts. All of her womanly curves distorted and blown up. But the worst…. The worst was her belly. It hung low as the baby dropped recently and was almost hanging off her wide hips. The belly dominated her, huge and unforgivingly heavy. It was dense and packed so full with her huge 10-pound baby in her swollen womb. The skin was pulled painfully taut and hurt all the time, while the heavy weight made it throb. In the beginning and middle of pregnancy she had loved her “bump” but now…. It was like she was just arms legs and tits attached to a giant sphere. Angry red stretch marks laid claim to her belly flesh and her belly button jutted out. That even hurt. Her belly button hurt.

           “Look at me” she wailed. “look what’s happened to me!” Her husband could tell by her tone she had obviously let herself spiral out in her thoughts. He would need to do something.” I’m a huge circus freak now!” she cried.

           “Well you are a bit bigger than a house” he said with a smile hoping to get her to laugh.

She wasn’t having it.

           “I’m bigger than a house.” She started up again with fresh tears in her eyes. “I’m bigger than a beached whale. Look at my body. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand being inside of all…. THIS!” She patted her belly for emphasis and as she did her breasts began to openly leak. “Oh God…… even my tits…. it hurts….” She heaved her heavy body to the side with her back to her husband and cried big salty tears that blurred her vision.

           He had been staring at her as she went on. In fact, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. It was slightly embarrassing for him. Here she was in pain and he was- well- he was getting hard. The sight of his wife carrying his baby turned him on like nothing else. All of her beautiful curves were only womanlier and more feminine to him. She was radiant. She was beautiful. She was a fertility goddess made real. He rubbed her back softly as she cried while the sight of her big heart shaped ass made him ache for her.

           “The baby is 10 pounds.” She sniffled. “10 pounds. How am I supposed to push that out in a week? What will I look like after that? Even worse? Feel even worse? I’ll just be hanging skin and a floppy belly with ugly stretch marks and- “

           She stopped as she felt his big warm hands go from her back to her aching breasts. He was fondling them gently. But it hurt. He grazed a leaking nipple and tugged on it slightly and she let out a hiss of pain. “Don’t” She said. He returned his fingers to her nipples and lightly grazed them, playing with them slowly in circular motions. They felt raw to his touch. “Don’t, please – “She began again and then felt him pressing his hardness against her soft ass.

           “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he asked as he started to grind himself against her backside. “Do you have any clue how sexy you are like this?”

           “Please, I know you’re lying – “She was about to let defeat wash over her and then her husband pulled open her thighs and without checking with her, drove himself in. She couldn’t help but cry out. Her fat, swollen pussy was already wet from being so pregnant and he took full advantage.

           “I want you to stop thinking about yourself like that.” He said “in fact, I don’t ever want to hear those words come out of your mouth again.” His grip on her breast tightened forcing her to spurt out milk and then his hand was climbing up her slender neck. The strong fingers wrapping around her throat. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?” he asked as he slowly thrusted into her. His grip around her neck tightened. “Don’t ever talk like that.”

            Despite her misery, she felt herself opening up to him. Felt herself grow slicker to his driving in and out. “yes” she said in a small voice.

            He thrusted in as deep and as hard as could and just kept himself rigid there, impaling her on his thick cock. His grip was like iron on her throat. “Say it again” he demanded.

“Yes” She said as best as she could with his hand clamped on her neck and felt herself almost gushing on his cock. The baby kept moving, searching for any spare space inside her belly. “You are the sexiest fucking thing I have ever seen carrying this baby.” Her husband said as he started to thrust in faster. Her big ass pressing against him, trying to keep him at bay. “you have never looked sexier than you do right now, big and ripe with my baby.” Despite her large behind, he kept plowing deep in her. There was pain as he went and her body still ached but a warm feeling kept building in her belly. She felt her nipples straining hard as trails of pre-milk made their way down her swollen chest. “You are my fucking fertile sex goddess.”  He said with dominance and she could hear how wet she was stretching around his cock. “I am your- “she tried to speak but the warm feeling was becoming a fire inside her now, rising through her massive swollen belly and to her chest. She felt wave after wave of it hitting her deep in her core. She ached. She hurt. But she also knew he wasn’t lying. His need and desire for her were overwhelming. She felt light again. Almost her old self. If wasn’t lying –

           Her husband started drilling into her faster. His balls hitting her clit as he went.

“If he wasn’t lying -”

           “Tell me what you are!” He whispered hotly in her ear. His lower arm wrapped around her belly protectively.

           “If he wasn’t lying” she thought and felt herself nearing the crest of something good and wonderful. “I am YOUR sex goddess” She gasped. She took his hand on her belly and pressed it tighter so he could feel his baby kicking. The sheets under her chest were soaked now and she felt herself almost drooling between her legs.  “Feel me” She said as she rubbed her belly with her husband. “Feel how big and swollen I am for you.”

           Her husband grunted and she knew he was close. So was she.

“Feel how heavy I am.” She purred. “how heavy I am with him.”

           “Heavy with who” he demanded again in between sharp inhales of breath.

“Heavy with YOUR baby.” She answered in. a husky voice and she felt him go rigid inside of her. Her soft swollen walls could feel his cock throb and twitch deep inside her hot cunt. She felt herself tip over the edge as the first spurt of his warm cum hit her walls. She moaned in ecstasy as her husband, the man she loved, the man who found her sexy no matter what, shot rope after rope of hot cum deep in her core.

           The two stayed locked into place like that for what felt like a long time. Neither of them talking. She almost thought he was asleep when the baby kicked again and she felt his big hand rub the spot of movement, trying to soothe his son. She still worried. She still had the anxiety. Her body still ached and felt wretched. But for the moment, she could take it. And in a week she would meet her baby boy. She thought about the labor and the feeling of finally giving him to her husband to hold and she smiled. “10 pounds. One week” she thought and closed her eyes.

[abluescarfonwaston]

The wolves all go out of there way to bring home a few books every winter. Just whatever they can find and fit in their bags. They won't ever be able to replace the library they lost during the sacking but the slowly growing collection does give then something else to do during the long winter nights.

It also becomes a bit of a competition- as it always does between them - to bring the best book, the book with the most interesting story of how they acquired it, and the most Valuable book (the definition of which changes every year).

Lambert makes it his goal every year to bring the most indecent romance novels he can. I'm talking novels labeled Erotic. I'm talking Porn with just enough plot to get published. Sometimes the others will try to one up him by bringing something even steamier. No one has ever beaten Lambert though.

Much to Vesemir horror the new library is a majority erotic novels (which they do try to hide from Ciri when she arrives).

One year Lambert brings home a story about a wandering knight and his faithful squire. He likes to read excepts to the wolves to get back at them for insulting his cooking, ripping the fancy blanket he won last year, beating him at qwent. Any opportunity really.

And the first few chapters are them going to brothels and wooing ladies. the standard stuff.

But then. Then they start sharing beds and brothels and the other partners just. fall away and they're Only with each other.

Lambert LOVES reading this to Geralt especially cause it can Actually make Geralt blush and run from the room. He's NEVER managed that with Geralt. Fuck YEAH.

And Geralts Dying. Because he recognized the prose during the First Chapter. and the pen name the writer used.

Dandelion.

Jaskier had written a gay romance novel about the two of them. Chocked full of the squires effusive praise for the ‘knight’.

And then one day Lambert stops reading it. Seems even shorter than normal with everyone.

"Lambert you wanna stop being a prick and read your dumb gay romance novel to us? Promise to only throw food at you this time." Eskel said.

"No. that was a shitty Fucking book and I hate it."

"Oh did the gays die again? Lambert you know they won't get published if they have a happy ending. Just rip the last pages out like always."

"No! The knight went and rode off into he Fucking sunset with that damn princess! Left the squire behind without a Fucking word!!!! I hate that Fucking knight and wanna rip his Fucking dick off!"

"Oh. Huh. Well they didn't die for once. happy ending."

"It's not a happy ending Eskel how -

"The knight and the princess were Fated to be together Lambert! all the foreshadowing was there!"

"The princess treated him like a moron! The squire Actually knew him and cared about him!"

"The squire caused him nothing but problems Lambert! Of Course he went with the princess who loved him and could give him the peaceful life he craved! Not every damn bi man has to end up with the guy Lambert!"

Eskel and Lambert continued their Screaming match. Vesemir appear to be regretting his every life decision. Ciri popped in the earplugs and continued reading her book. Geralt stared into his ale, frozen.

"What happens to the squire Lambert?" Geralt asked his drink quietly.

"THATS THE WORST PART. HE SMILES AND SENDS THEM OFF. LIKE HE ALWAYS KNEW IT WOULD HAPPEN AND WAS HAPPY FOR THEM. AND YOU CAN JUST TELL HOW HEARTBROKEN THE MOTHERFUCKER IS AND WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPY WITH THAT."

"This is why we told you not to bring gay novels Lambert. You always get upset with how they end."

"It's not Fucking fair."

Geralt’s chair screeches against the stone as he stands up - an oddity since they all Hate that noise and actively avoid making it.

"Where are you going?" Eskel questioned as he stroad to the door.

"I need to talk to Jaskier."   

"And how do you intend to do that? Gonna ride down the mountain in a Fucking blizzard Geralt?"

"I." The door slammed closed behind him.

"Should." Ciri started. "One of us check on him?"

"No." They all said in unison.

(They did all at some point check on him)

Ciri was first. with a timid and then assertive knock on his door before she entered. Crawling into his arms and burrowing into his chest.

"We can go find him as soon as the snow melts. Okay?"

"I don't think he'd be very excited to see me." He mourned tucking her closer and burying his nose in her hair.

"It's Jaskier." She said simply about a man she only knew from their stories. "He's always excited to see you."

"You going to Brood all winter or do you actually want to figure out how to apologize wolf?" Eskel asked dragging him to the courtyard for a spar.

"There's nothing I can do. He'll never forgive me."

"Oh like he'd Never forgive you for the Djinn? Or for ripping his favorite doublet? Or telling him his singing sucked?" Eskel landed a hard jab. "And what happened every one of those times he'd Never forgive you?"

"That's different." He said returning the blow.

"Uh huh. Guess we'd better make sure you've got a damn good apology ready then?" Eskel smiled easily like he knew the punchline to a very funny joke. "Tell me what happened."

So he did.

Vesemir eased into the spring water across from him with a groan. He wondered how long he had before Vesemir started making fun of how long he spent in the bath again. Longer than if it was Eskel or Lambert at least.

They sat there and a question curdled in his belly until it forced its way out.

"How are we supposed to not get attached?"

"I think we're well past that point lad."

"But How? I can't. All these years and I still can't." He buried his head in his hands so he couldn't see how he'd failed Vesemir yet again.

"If I knew I'd tell you Geralt." Vesemir said, exhausted.

He glanced up and was Viscerally reminded how much Vesemir had lost over the long centuries of his life.

How he'd seen the school founded and fall. How he'd known every child who'd walked these halls and died in them.

How he knew exactly how many had died in the raid.

He remembered how Vesemir had fallen to pieces when the last Witcher he'd ever teach, Leo, had died.

And he remembered how Vesemir put himself back together for them.

"I can't. I can't Vesemir." If Ciri or Eksel or Lambert or Vesemir or Jaskier died. "I'm not as strong as you. I Can't."

"You will. You are." Vesemir squeezed his shoulder as he stood. "Make it worth the loss Geralt."

He sunk into the hot water and wondered how it could be.

He was half asleep when the door Slammed open and only had half a second before Lambert was cannon-balling into his chest.

"FIXED IT!"

He breathed through the pain. "Fix my ribs ass."

"You're fine whiny old man." Lambert shoved a book under his nose. the scent of barely dried ink filling his nostrils. "Read it!"

"Just tell me what happened. I'm not reading your handwriting in the dark." He said shoving it back.

"It's better than yours!" It wasn't. "The knight gets his head out of his ass and tells the squire he loves him and they go on countless more adventures." he puffed up proudly.

"And the princess? what happens to her?"

Lambert scowled at him. "Who gives a fuck about the princess?"

‘I do.’ He thought. "The knight does." He said.

"Ugh. uh. she meets another princess and they go ride off into there own sunset. okay? Happy you ungrateful prick?"

He smiled in a way that made Lambert gag. "I think that's a much better ending Lambert."

"Of course it is!" He preened from atop Geralt. Toes digging into his abdomen painfully.

"Now get out of my room or I'll throw you into the snow bank Lambert."

Lambert tried to call him on the threat so he made to make good on it. Lambert dashed from the room with a crass gesture.

That did sound like a better ending. He gripped his medallion and hoped that in the spring they'd get that ending.

An ending that lead into a very very happy beginning of something new.

[1a-imagines]

Forget me not

Fairy!Izuku x reader

A/n: It’s here!! The post I've been making every one worry about for the past week, I hope you all enjoy. :) 

This is Day 3 of the Izumonth collab!! You can find the announcement post here. 

If you squint there is angst.

Word count: 5500+ words.

Overview: You've waited years for him to come back, when you find him again; what secrets will you share under the moonlit sky?

Laughter echoed in the open air, the sun peeking up over the horizon signalling the start of morning. Most of the world was asleep, but this back garden was as lively as ever. Little feet raced around the garden with purpose. A child, no older than 10, chased a ball of green light around the grassy terrain.

You jumped over toys, crawled under the slide, hid behind trees and bushes to trick your opponent into a false sense of security. Anything to win this game he had challenged you to.

You stood as still as you could from behind the tree trunk, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Finally, a green glow entered your peripheral vision and you jumped for it.

Your chubby fingers outstretched, both hands clasping around the light as you captured the target.

"Gotcha Izu'!" You laughed, opening your hands as you brought them up to your face. The glow from his wings bounced off your skin, accentuating your cute, childish, features.

The fairy rubbed his head sitting in the middle of your palms, giggling,  "I was going easy on you!"

He flew up, getting level with your face. You hummed in a mocking tone, not believing him. He pressed his lips together, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Well, if that was so easy for you then how about you try catching all of us!" He exclaimed.

More glowing lights emerged from beyond the bushes in your garden. Each one a different colour, red, blue, yellow, white. Only when they got up close could you see the outlines of their bodies. You had expected fairies to be smaller than they were. They were about the size of your palms and according to them, they were still growing. You wonder how they would compare to you when you got older.

You huffed, stomping your foot on the floor with a pout. "Fine! I'll do it! But after we're paying hide and seek, ok? We only have one hour until my family wakes up!"  

Izuku nodded, flying over to his friends with a grin. "I promise! Now come catch us!"

You smiled at the memory. Remembering how that night was filled with laughter and games. Even as a ten year old staying awake all night, you never got sleepy. Whenever the moon was up, you and your friends went out to play. It was the only time they came to visit you. All night you would be awake, laughing, singing and playing with them in your secret garden.

It surprised you, the memory was so vivid in your mind, like it had happened merely a day ago. As time went by, childhood memories started to fade, making them feel more like dreams than reality.

You bent down, your eye peering through the door of the little mushroom house. Just as you had expected, it was empty. You sat back on your knees, letting out a hefty sigh.

The handcrafted house brought back so many childhood memories. Memories that in one way made you happy, and in another way stung your heart like a thousand wasps.

You used to see the fairies everyday, hiding around your garden, in bushes, behind mushrooms. They particularly liked your flower beds and vegetable patches. It was where you often found them sneaking around, as if playing a never ending game of hide and seek.

Eventually, they approach you, and they become your mystical secrets. There was one in particular, your little forest haired fairy. Even before you became friends he would smile and wave at you from behind flowers and leaves.

He was too shy to talk to you at first but with time he made his way to you. His friends soon followed his suit and began talking and playing with you. As much as you adored all of them, there was just something about Izuku that made you feel more attached to him. He came to visit you almost every night, sometimes flying through your bedroom window, where you would read him stories or vise versa, until you fell asleep.

There were so many fond memories he had left you with.

You reached out a hand, caressing the petals of a nearby snowdrop, more memories flashing through your mind.  

They always adored your garden, how it was filled with different flowers and vegetables. In honour of them you continued to upkeep it. Never a day went by that you weren't in your garden, pulling out weeds, watering the colourful array of flowers, tending the vegetable patches. You wished to create the perfect human-made fairy garden in the world, for them to come play and relax, laugh and dance just as you used to in your childhood days. You even went as far as making houses for them, each one filled with miniature furniture you had hand crafted yourself.

You had dedicated so much time to them. Put your heart and soul into everything you made, not a leaf out of place in your perfect garden.

So why haven't they come back? It has been six years and you haven't received so much as a goodbye from them. They just stopped coming to see you.

Your family had always brushed off your claims of fairies visiting the garden as just your childish imagination running wild, but you were much older now. Your obsession was starting to worry them. You mother thought it was nice you had such a big imagination, the rest of them called you crazy and childish.

Despite their words, you couldn't bring yourself to believe that it was all just mere imagination. They were real, you talked to them, you played and danced with them, and you were going to prove them all wrong!

Your beliefs had stood strong for six whole years, but after reciting the same old routine of tending your fairy garden and checking the small mushroom houses, everyday single day. Your beliefs were dwindling.

Where had they gone? The more days that went by, days without signs of your magical friends, days that consisted of you being mocked and ridiculed by your family. You couldn't help but lose a little faith. Fears starting to invade the cracks left in your heart, fears of never seeing them again, fears of them never having existed in the first place.

Despite the ever growing shadow on your face, you continued your weekly routine of cleaning the mushroom houses. Even if they never came back, it would be a waste to let all your hard work catch dust. You couldn't even begin to guess how many hours you had spent on this project.

You grabbed a cloth and unclipped the roof from the walls so you could clean all the nooks and crannies, Beginning with the first house you had ever crafted. It was rounded like a fat mushroom, the roof was a dark green with lighter green polka dots decorating it. It was your favourite design, Made carefully and with a little green haired friend of yours in mind.  

It had taken you months to finish this house alone, your face scrunched up remembering all the cuts, bruises and burns you had gotten in the process. It hadn't been easy, and a few times you almost gave up completely. However, seeing the fairy-sized bed, with small sewn duvets on top of it, an actual working fireplace, a kitchen with running water and a stove. It was all worth it. Who else could say they had tiny, fully functional, homes in their back garden?

You wrapped the cloth around your index finger, it was slightly damp, you used it to clean the floor first. Removing some of the furniture so it would be out of your way.

You picked up the couch, but once it was out of the way you noticed the floor was shining. Not from your careful cleaning but it looked like tiny green glitter had fallen to the ground.

Your heart stopped.

Tiny green glitter? Could it be? You used your finger to poke at the glitter, it clung to your skin and you brought it up to your eyes. How could something so small feel so familiar? They were like tiny green sparkles of hope.

Had he been here recently?

Your head shot up and you looked around for any more signs of life, rummaging through the other houses, the flower beds, the vegetable patches, anything you could think of.

As usual, you didn't find anything, yet you stood, grinning from ear to ear at the thought of not being crazy after all. Maybe they had been coming back and you hadn't noticed!?

You placed all the furniture back and put the roof on top of the house. If he had been coming back, then you had to find him! Just like when you were younger, you were going to play a game of hide and seek, but this time you were serious.

You were going to prove to everyone that you weren't crazy. You were going to prove that fairies are real! Most importantly, you might get to see your old friends again!

That very night you sat, curled up, by the window. The log fire offered a dim glow across the room, you didn’t want the lights to be on, fearing it could dissuade them from coming back. You draped a blanket over your shoulders, watching the mushroom house, your eyes not daring to move away in fear you would miss something.

Your family had tried to talk you out of this, telling you it was unhealthy to be so obsessed over this after you shared your findings over dinner. You still remembered the twisted frowns on their faces, even your mother looked worried for you. You sighed, head dipping down. Maybe they had a point, but after dedicating years to these fairies how could you just give up on them? Especially not now that you had a sign of their existence.

Hours went by, the log fire burning out along your hope, leaving behind nothing but a pile of  blackened ash.

The moon was high into the sky, illuminating your garden. It looked exactly like it used to when you would stay away with the fairies all night. Except now, instead of toys, there were more vegetable patches and flower beds scattering the grass floor. As you looked out at it, ghosted memories flooded back to you. You could almost see your childhood self running around with them again.

You felt your eyes droop. What time was it? You weren't sure, all you could do was battle with your body for the ability to stay awake.

Your head was snug in the crease of your arm, the blanket falling from your shoulder. When the blanket finally fell off and hit your feet, it startled you awake. You gasped, your body jolting up as you slapped yourself awake. How could you almost doze off?! What if you had missed something!? You pulled the blanket back around you and leaned onto the window. The cold glass against your skin made you shiver, but it helped keep you awake.

The moon disappeared above your house, but your garden stayed illuminated by its light. It looked enchanting, like there was a spotlight on your garden and the audience was the universe. Through the beam of light your eyes caught sight of something, you rubbed your eye, wondering if it was just your imagination.

You gasped, diving behind the couch, your eyes the only part of you peeking out behind your cover, like an animal waiting to pounce on its prey. A trail of green dust danced in the wind, enticing you to follow it. You shot up from your seat and walked to the back door, as you pulled it open you prayed it wouldn’t creak too loudly and alert your visitor. You bit your lip, creating a gap just big enough for you to slip out of and walked across the garden, the grass tickling at your bare feet.

Your eyes widened, seeing the lights in the house on, you knelt down. Your legs were shaking so you steadied yourself with your hands. The door was shut, you knew this was your only chance to know the truth, to prove you weren’t crazy, and if it really was him, you could finally get some answers as to why he left. your hands were shaking as you were overcome with emotion, you hesitated to move, what if the answers weren’t going to be what you were looking for. Ignorance is bliss as they say.

You sat there, unmoving, knees tucked under your body and the chill of the night air caressing your skin. You could hear the sounds of pot’s clanking from behind the door. Had you any courage you would have peered in already, but your anxieties were holding you back.

After taking a shaky breath and mentally hyping yourself up, you curled your index finger, it hovered above the doors surface as you pushed against an invisible barrier. You closed your eyes and knocked on the door. Everything went silent. The feeling of wanting to slap yourself grew as the seconds ticked by and not a movement was made. The pit of your stomach churned, it felt like you had been sat there for an eternity.

Much to your delight, the door was pulled open and out poked a familiar face. “Izu..” You breathed out, tears pricking at your eyes. You hand flew up to your mouth as you choked back a sob. He hadn’t changed much, he was bigger now, but still only around the size of your palm. His jade curls fell around his face, sticking up in all directions as if he had just rolled out of bed, his rounded eyes filled with inner conflict. The door wasn’t opened fully but you could still see his wings peeking out from behind him, glowing brighter than ever.. Leaves were sewn together to create clothes on his body. A creative yet uncomfortable way to avoid nudity. His eyes were staring up at you like you were a three headed monster, come to end his life. He was frozen in place.

Your lips parted, words threatened to spill from them. You weren’t sure what to say, you had thought about this moment so many times, about what you would say, and yet your mind was blank. As you wrecked your brain to form a sentence a slam brought you from your thoughts. You blinked, the door was shut before you even got to say anything. It felt like a giant slap to your face. After years of imagining the moment you would see your friends again, this was never an outcome you expected. Your hands slipped from your face, trembling in front of you.

You didn’t understand, didn’t he remember you? You still lived in the same house, your looks hadn't changed that much apart from getting taller and your chubby child features melting away, you were practically the same! Maybe he hated you? Maybe that's why he stayed away from you all these years. Thoughts swirled around your head like a whirlpool, your bottom lip quivered, tears rolling down your face.

No matter how much you were hurting, you were insistent on having a conversation with him. You finally had him back, the least he could do was give you some answers. You lifted your hand to knock again, but before your finger could tap on the wood it opened, revealing a much more bashful looking fairy than before. Instead of his usual green glow, he was now glowing pink. How strange...

“Sorry, I panicked.” He chose to look at his feet instead of your face, he couldn’t see. You let out a dry laugh, you tried to relax now he was in front of you again, but you could barely hold back the sobs. “Do you remember me?”

He nodded, his curls bouncing as he did so. You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It felt like a dream but you knew it was real. The cold night air on your exposed skin, the sound of his voice as he admitted to panicking; Not even your imagination could be this vivid, he was here, in front of you.

“How could I ever forget you Y/n?” He rubbed his arm, holding himself for comfort. The blanket fell from your shoulders when your body finally relaxed. “You are real.” you breathed, gaze fixed on him.

Your outspoken confirmation had sent yet another slap to your face. You felt like you were being thrown into a frenzy. You swirling thoughts were making you dizzy. They were real, if your family could see him they would finally believe you! All those jokes about you being crazy would be put to an end! You’d be free from ridicule! All you would have to do is take him inside, “I- I have to show you to my family! They think i'm insane! But you’re real! You were all real, and-” You shot up from the ground, stumbling in the process from the erratic movement. “Please! You have to come with me-”

“No!” He panicked and flew up from the stone steps on the mushroom house to be face level with you. It had been so long since you were able to see him up close. “No one can know about us!”

“But-” You wanted to argue but one look in his eyes and you saw how scared he was. You looked down, biting your tongue from saying anything else. His eyes had always reminded you of the forest on a sunny day, peaceful, filled with warmth. So seeing them filled with sorrow had, theoretically, stabbed your heart. “Why did you show yourselves to me then?”

He expected you’d have many questions.. He sighed and slowly fluttered forward so he was closer to your face. It felt like you two were in your own personal bubble, the rest of the world trapped outside of your secret space.

“When we were children, my friends and I found you playing alone in your garden. Our parents never found out about it, we were interested in humans and didn’t see the harm in approaching you. We watched you for weeks, you were always alone but you seemed so nice. We were only going to do it once but, eventually, one day turned into everyday but what we did was stupid and very forbidden by our people. We had to stop before our parents found out if they had, they would have erased your memory using their magic. I didn’t-.. We didn’t want you to forget us.” He corrected, mentally kicking himself for the slip up

You hadn’t caught his slip up, your brain was trying to process the new information. At least you finally had the answers you had been looking for. It finally made sense, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You sat back down on the grass, pulling your legs to your chest. They felt like jelly, and you didn’t trust them to support the rest of your body right now. Izuku flew down with you, hovering just above your legs. He took the break of silence to study your features. You looked a lot more mature now, as he assumed he did to you. You were both only 10 last time he saw you, now it had been about 6 years, a lot had changed yet you were still just as beautiful as he remembered you to be.

You remained silent, did you really have nothing to say to him? Or perhaps you were mad? The look on your face said otherwise, your features were relaxed yet your eyes seemed so distant. As if you were in another world to his. You weren’t sure how to feel, you had more questions now than ever before.

“Did you make these?” He finally found a way to break the silence, he gracefully glided down to the mushroom houses you had hidden amongst the blooming flowers. It was the perfect height for him, which was surprising. It was a beautifully designed house, he noted all the little details you had, each carved design was a pattern of passion. The fact you placed them into your flower beds made it even more perfect, it kept them surrounded by nature and beauty just like fairies loved to be. He wasn’t sure how you were able to know all of this, but it was the perfect fairy home, he really wished he would stay and live here in your garden. Not only for the beautiful environment you had created for them, but to see you everyday, to play and dance just like you used to do.

Your head lifted, a smile gracing your lips. “Yeah, I made them for you guys in case you ever came back.”

Your words struck him through the heart without the intent. He was facing away, his hand placed onto the frame of the door, caressing the hand carved design. He was guilt ridden, he had been for years but seeing this, how you waited for them to come back, it tore him up inside. He knew he should’ve said something before leaving you, he really tried to. His friends convinced him that he should be the one to deliver the message, you two had always had this unspoken bond as children.

However, when the time came, he couldn’t do it. He was nothing more than a coward. The words wouldn’t come out no matter how hard he tried to force them, like there was an invisible force squeezing at his neck, trapping the words in his throat. He didn’t want his last image of you to be a sad one. He didn’t want to have to fly away to the sounds of your cries. The thought crushed him, so he ran away from it, and now he was stuck regretting it for the rest of his life, he knew he couldn’t make up for what he did to you.“You have to leave again don’t you?”

Your voice ripped him from his thoughts, he dared not turn around. The sorrow in your voice was enough to make him wince. Just like the day he had left without warning, his voice failed him. He could barely manage a nod but you caught it. “For good?” Another nod, his head hung low, shoulder trembling. Suddenly feeling grateful for being sat down you hunched over. Your hair covering your eyes as you breathed out. Perhaps you would’ve been better off if this was a dream after all.

Another silence hung between you two, it was painful. The air felt heavy, a pressure weighing down on both of your shoulders that had built up over the last six years. Izuku shook his head, he couldn’t let things end like this. He couldn’t do it to you again. He may not be able to stay but there was something else he could do.

Tear’s silently escaped your eyes, falling onto the grass floor beneath you like sorrowful raindrops. You kept your eyes and mouth shut tight, you didn’t want him to see you crying before he left, but how could you not be upset by such a cruel fate? He had always taken up such a big part of your heart, and now he was telling you he was going to leave and you’d most likely never see each other again.

A pair of smaller hands cupped your cheeks, lifting your face up. Your tears soaked his hands but he didn’t mind. He smiled, rubbing at the wet trails on your cheeks with his forearm. Without a word between you, he flew down and grabbed one of your hands with both of his. He tugged at it and you stood up, allowing him to silently guide you.  He took you out of your back garden and into the forest that resided on the other side of your fence. The thought of going into a forest at night scared you, even with a trusted friend guiding you. The further you strayed from home the darker it got, trees obstructing the moon's light as you stepped into the forest. Izuku's green glow acted as a torch, keeping you safe from darkness.

After 5 minutes of walking in silence, your lips pulled into a frown, “Where are we going?” You finally asked with a bit of hesitance, one of his hands held onto your index finger, pulling you through the maze of trees with expertise. You stumbled and winced as stones and twigs poked at your bare feet like tiny needles. You had to rely on the glowing of your friend and what little of the moon's rays peaked through the trees to light your surroundings.

He didn’t reply to your question, but he didn’t need to. He guided you around a giant oak tree, and once you did your jaw dropped.

Fireflies danced around the open space between the trees, gathering together to create a soft golden glow in the cloud of darkness, like a million little lanterns floating in the sky. Flowers and vines decorated the trees wrapping around like snakes. There were no more stones and twigs for you to worry about as your feet hit the grass. It felt like a soft blanket under your sore feet. It was a grassy stage, the moon hit down on the open area like a spotlight, much like it had back in your garden. There were no overhanging branches that blocked it's path with shadows. It was enchanting, like something right out of a fairy tale.

Subconsciously you stepped forward into the light, your breath knocked out of you. You were so entranced by what you were seeing that you didn’t get to see the way Izuku was staring at you. It was something that you would never be able to see again. The way his lips curled up, eyes sparkling with fondness for you. The moon's light hit you perfectly, giving you a white glow, like an angel. Maybe you were an angel in disguise, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“It’s… amazing.” That was an understatement, but how were you supposed to put this into words? It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. He smiled and flew in front of you so he could take in your expression, your lips were parted and slightly curled at the edges. He could see the reflection of dancing fireflies in your doe eyes.

He couldn’t care less about the fireflies behind him. In his eyes, you were way more breathtaking, and to see your smile again after so many years, it made his heart melt.

"There's something else." He brushed past you, making you  finally snap from your trance. He flew over to a particularly large tree, there was a small circular hole in it, showing its hollowed out insides. He disappeared into, and when he came back he carried a vial with a strange blue liquid inside. "I was saving it for something special and I suppose there's nothing more special than being here, with you, right now." He pulled the cork out and drank the strange liquid.

You watched silently as a blue light circled around him soon engulfing him in a blinding light. You turned your head away and closed your away in fear of being permanently blinded. You didn’t know when it would be safe to turn back, so you waited until a hand cupped your face.

A much... larger hand. You opened your eyes, gasping when you saw your fairy was human sized, he was just a touch taller than you. The increase in his size made his features more prominent, you could finally see how handsome he really was. You could admire his freckles, the way his hair brushes against the top of his eyes, you even got a closer look at this leaf clothing. They were skilfully stitched to fit his body, you wondered if he did it himself.

He smiled, watching you lean into his hand, nuzzling into his hold.. "Care to dance?" He asked softly, the pad of his thumb brushing over your cheek. Such a simple action, yet it held so much love, you felt breathless. Your heart was beating too fast for your lungs to keep up with.

You nodded and stepped forward. His hands placed themselves on your waist as your hands went up to his shoulders. His hands trembled, his touch feather-like, as if he was scared to break you.

The lack of music didn't bother either of you, with the orange glow of the fireflies, the moon's lights shining down on you, and the blissful sounds of nature, it was perfect the way it was. You followed his lead as you swayed back and forth together, this offer to dance had been nothing more than an excuse to hold you close one last time. It didn't matter that neither of you knew how to slow dance, or that you were in your nightgown, barefooted. You were in each other's arms and that was all that mattered.

Before he knew it, your head was resting against his shoulder, a melodic light humming filled his left ear. It sent shivers down his spine, his wings fluttering behind him as you hummed a secret song. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against yours, your hair tickled his nose as he tried to memorise your scent. He wanted this moment to be engraved into his brain forever.

You slow danced for so long, he had lost track of time. Neither of you were willing to let go, it was too hard to do this again. Everything felt so perfect, so tranquil. like you were the only two people in the world.

He finally got the willpower to peek his eye open, the sun's rays peeking over the horizon and disturbing the moon's glow. The stars, that were witness to your dance, were disappearing from the sky. It was time to go, yet you were blissfully unaware of this as you continued to hum into his ear. You hadn’t opened your eyes a single time since you’ve been in his arms, you were too scared to open them and have to face reality.

With every ounce of strength he had in his body his hands trailed up to your shoulders, memorising the feeling of your skin, he hesitantly pushed you away. He held you at arm length, your eyes opening and staring into his.

You looked scared.

He smiled at you, moving forward to rest his forehead against yours. "Close your eyes." He whispered, and without hesitation your eyes fluttered close. Your hand gripped onto his, as a way to make sure he wasn't going to disappear.

He released a shaky breath as he took your hand into both of his. Cupping it protectively. After a few seconds of nothing but shuffling, you felt something being placed into your palm. It was thin and light, you almost peaked an eye open but one hand came up to cover your eyes.

You patiently stood there, not daring to question what he was up to. A few seconds went by before you felt a feather-like kiss being placed onto your lips. You sharply inhaled through your nose. His kiss lingered for a long time, silently telling you he loved you. His hand squeezed yours when you kissed back, eagerly leaning into the affection. Lips moulded together, with no haste to pull away anytime soon.

When his lips reluctantly left yours, the hand covering your eyes didn't move. You smiled, your heart racing at the sweet gesture. His hand fell away, but your eyes remained closed, you felt another kiss be placed on top of your head, his nose bumping against your skin.

“I love you.” He whispered, a quiet confession confined to your shared bubble.

He pulled away, his hand releasing yours. You waited for him to do something else, to tell you to open your eyes now, but there was nothing…You figured he was done and so you opened your eyes. You gasped for breath, placing a hand over your heart. It felt like a knife had stabbed through your chest.

He was gone.

The fireflies had disappeared, the moon had disappeared, and so had your beloved fairy. The only sign that he had really been here was the lingering feeling of his lips on yours, they tingled with leftover electricity.  

Looking down to the gift he had left you, you found a flower, a forget-me-not to be exact.

You swallowed, eyes stinging as pools of tears gathered in the corners. You used your fingers to gently caress the petals. It figures that he would choose to leave you with this of all flowers.

You held it close to your chest, staring up at the newly lit sky, the sun cast orange hues over the forest, it was beautiful, but you couldn’t admire it, too bitter at the star for ruining your night. You wanted to see the moon again, to dance under the stars for hours more,

"As if I could forget you." You let out a breathy laugh, closing your eyes so you could pretend it was still night. "I love you too."

[prose-for-hire]

Right on time

Pairing: Spike x reader; Faith x reader [reader dates men & women]

Request: Not requested. I’m trying to write whatever’s coming into my head even if it isn’t my best so that I can be inspired to write something potentially better for a fic someone’s requested lolll. Requests will still be written but they may be a little slower than normal sorry 💖

Desc: Reader was in a relationship with Faith but since she was in a coma the reader turned to Spike for comfort and feelings begin to grow.

Warning: Sex references; set in hospital; mention or discussion of a kind of loss. swearing.

The walls appeared to be closing in again. The noise around you lulled every so often with a sombre silence. The hollowed eyes of loss surrounded you but had no reason to look your way. They were all stuck in their own minds. A funeral march in the making.

The occasional laughter bubbled up, from those that clutched hope so desperately their knuckles were perpetually white. It didn’t feel right in this place though, it was a surreal room that held both the impending horror and delight depending on what the doctor said next. You could nearly taste it in the air it was that strong. The mixture of such strong emotions blanketed the room in a thick tension. A kind of purgatory.

You were sitting in the adjoined café to the hospital coaxing your mug to give you some answers when you didn’t even know what questions to ask. You stared into your mug, wishing it could offer you come kind of comfort. The human touch you craved just couldn’t be replicated. Her touch. It had been so long now that you had almost given up.

Faith was in a coma. The only woman you had ever fallen in love with couldn’t open her eyes. Could barely breathe on her own. She shouldn’t be lying there. She didn’t deserve that, no matter the choices she made. She didn’t deserve to end her days this way. Or any way, in your opinion.

When you had been together, just the two of you it had been so good. You redefined the meaning of love together. You were unapologetically each other’s. You promised forever and she had been taken away from you.

She had confided in you in a way that she couldn’t with anyone else. You shared hushed whispers, swapping your pasts beneath the sheets together. You had loved her when she lived out of a motel and you had loved her just the same when she lived in her apartment that the Mayor had bought for her.

She could be so soft when she wanted to be. Holding you into her and not letting the cruel world touch either of you. You were completely embraced by her adoration and you just hope that she felt the same.

That she knew that you would rather be in her place. That you loved her just as much now as you did the first day you whispered those words to her. Your skin on hers, wrapped in a sheet as the afternoon stretched out before you. It had been such bliss.

You still visited every Friday. Held her hand and told her that you love her. Spoke to her, told her everything about your life. Everything except…

Spike. He appeared before you just as your mind turned to him. As it often did, recently. You squinted, thinking he must have followed you.

This was unlike him anymore. He would usually wait around the crypt or in the alley around the back of the Bronze for you to decide the inevitable. That you would spend the night with him. Losing yourself in his touch. Fucking him until you could almost forget her. But you never did, of course.

You both knew the arrangement, don’t get attached. Don’t stay for breakfast (or dinner, should it be that way around). It suited you both. It was for comfort, you had both found yourselves increasingly isolated. On the peripheries of the Scoobies whilst still being hauled back in to help when they remembered you both existed. Still, there was no warmth from them. None of them trusted either of you.

You turned to each other, shielding from the cold. The loneliness that seeped in no matter how you tried to protect yourselves. The reality was that you needed each other. These nights were necessary. The sex was good, you both knew you couldn’t get better anywhere else.

Admittedly though, more recently you became more and more present in those moments. Where you wouldn’t leave as soon as you finished. You had been shuffling away without a word passing between you. Not so much as a thank you, come again.

No, you now didn’t even put up the pretence of going to the Bronze first. You found your way to him as soon as you could. You found yourself increasingly enjoying his presence. Which was something you hadn’t consciously found yourself feeling since Faith got hurt. Enjoyment. Maybe even happiness. In a strange way, Spike made you feel more than you could remember feeling.

One evening, you stayed up the entire night. Talking. His mind spoke to you. A connection that was fast becoming unbreakable since. Neither of you even suggested more and you hadn’t realised this until the morning came and you woke up with his arms draped around you. It was a soft intimacy that you hadn’t found yourself expecting but now it was happening you only wanted more of it.

More of him.

You hadn’t realised but Spike had been falling even before that night. He had a taste of you. Your body and mind. He saw the ugliest parts of you, the guilt and the sadness that you tried to conceal and loved you wholly.

He wanted to comfort you. Wanted to protect you from your sadness. From the guilt you held for even having a single moment of happiness when Faith no longer could.

He couldn’t help loving you, the way you spoke even in your sadness was appealing to him. You were a strong person although it was a task for him trying to get you to reveal how you truly felt.

It started to upset him, when you were upset. He found his mood lifted and fell depending on how you felt. On how you spoke about yourself. He was in love with you. All in. He was a fool for love. Or, more, a fool for you.

He so wanted you to see what he did. How he adored you so. That you were truly a gift to the world. That you were the reason he got up in the evening. On the promise of being close to you.

You kept things bottled up, held tightly to your chest. You didn’t tell him but you felt guilty, what with Faith still breathing and being involved with Spike. The doctors had told you multiple times that it would take a miracle for her to recover. That you should move on. But it was too hard letting go.

That was how you ended up here, psyching yourself up to go and join her by her bedside. Visiting hours started in less than an hour and you were still trying to convince yourself that there was still hope.

Her face, it looked almost peaceful lying in that bed but it brought you anything but peace. You knew she would rather be where the action was. Fighting and fucking in that way that only she could marry together perfectly. You could hold her hand in yours but it was often cold to match the room. You could bend it to curl around you but it never stayed.

You just wanted her to reach for you again, clasp her hand to yours and tell you that it would be okay. That she would make it out. That she could make it out of anything. Her confidence, you had loved it. She was so sure of herself and she had the same confidence in you. she was devoted to you in every way. Had near fought the Mayor over some of the comments he had made about you.

Spike spotted you immediately where you were sat hunched over your seat in the café. He stalked straight towards you, not moving out of anyone’s way. He sat down in front of you, characteristically throwing himself down and smirking as if this had all been planned. He took the mug from you and downed the remainder of the lukewarm liquid, grimacing at your choice of beverage. He slammed the mug back down, almost cracking it before sniffing and looking back at you expectantly.

“Did you follow me? You know you really shouldn’t do that to people-” You warned. You had this conversation more than once and he had mostly learned from what you had said. Or so you hoped anyway.

“I know. I wasn’t, I swear it” He said and when you raised an eyebrow he continued, “Stocking up wasn’t I?”

He pulled one half of his duster as if trying to sell you something but it revealed several concealed pockets that held blood bags. Human blood. He had come to get lunch.

This type of thing was what you had come to expect of Spike and so you just nodded and accepted it. In fact, you had begun to warm up his blood for him in the mornings when you both woke up together. He liked that you didn’t look at him in disgust for surviving. That rather you understood. He smiled at you before patting himself down again.

He took a cigarette from his pack and started to light up, forgetting where he was. You reached and took the object from him, dropping it in your cup. The dregs put the lit end out with a disappointing sizzle.

When you had leaned in, his eyes had widened. Your proximity was something he wanted more of. Those soft, familiar gestures of comfort. They meant a lot to him. Although, it wouldn’t stop him testing just how familiar he could be back to you.

“Question is, why are you? Doc said she’s gone, pet. No point making it harder on yourself” he said slowly, knowing not to push too hard. Last time he had started to press you to talk about it more you hadn’t spoken to him for a week. 

You knew what the doctor had said. But you couldn’t stop coming. You couldn’t let her go. You couldn’t leave her behind.

“I love her” You said sadly. The words stung Spike and he lowered his gaze to the table between you. His jaw tensed and he tried to blink the water from his eyes before you saw it. Your love meant too much to him. Sometimes, you wished it wasn’t true. You wish you could move on and just forget. But she had meant everything to you, even after she had joined up with the Mayor you stuck by her. You had fallen so deeply.

The way she always held you close. Kissed you until you were breathless as soon as she saw you. That smile that could light up a room. She would have died rather than see you hurt in any way. Faith loved you, you had never doubted it.

But as soon as you thought this your mind moved to Spike. In the same way, he clung to you protectively. Gave you all of his time. Would rather give up anything so that you could have even a second of happiness.

“But… I think… I think I feel the same about you” Your sentence exploded from your mouth before you could brace yourself. You hadn’t even thought them properly before you expressed these words. But, you knew that you meant it. That you adored every part of him.

You were scared though, that he may suffer the same fate as the only other person you loved. You didn’t need to explain this though, he understood.

He had gasped. Audibly. Spike was looking at you as if you had hung the stars in the sky. He reached for you from across the table, his features crudely carved out of the fluorescent lighting. Yet he still managed to keep this soft expression on his face. The one that was only yours.

“I have loved you since the first I saw you. Couldn’t even begin to deny these feelings inside. I need you, near crave you at times. Nothing compares to you, pet. Nothing even comes close”

He took your hand in his from over the table as he began to offer his feelings to you. This love that he had harboured in secret for too long. This soft adoration that he could now allow to flow freely. He assured you that he was yours, in any way you wanted him.

His hand caressed yours in such a way that you could no longer imagine him letting go. This intimacy meant more than you could even begin to describe. He slowly rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand as he spoke so earnestly.

You could have cried. Could have thrown the table aside and urgently pressed your lips against his. Instead, you clasped your hand tighter, wove your fingers firmly between his. You needed this. You needed him.

He squeezed your hand tighter as you spoke, trying to shuffle your thoughts into some type of cohesion. You wanted to explain. Wanted to match the beautiful way he expressed his own emotions to you. But something had stopped you. Or, someone. It felt as if someone had a hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing your throat until no words could form.

Your eyesight began to blur. The corners of your vision turning to static. But there was something, a flicker that caught your attention.

Her. Standing there in someone else’s clothes. Paler than you remembered but still completely her.

“Faith you’re…”

“Right on time” She nodded, smiling at you. Although her eye was almost twitching as she looked at the way you were both intimately sprawled across the table. Leaning in towards each other closer as the other spoke.

You couldn’t help but get up, dropping Spike’s hand in your shock. Your vision completely enraptured by her. You were so excited you didn’t hear a British accent muttering ‘Bloody brilliant’ as he contemplated that his relationship with you had just completely changed. Again.

To have everything he had ever wanted from you now potentially ripped away in almost the same breath hurt. Deeply. And so he blamed Faith for it. 

You launched yourself at her, wrapping your arms around her so enthusiastically. She hissed a little and you moved but you were unable to part from her. You pressed a chaste kiss against her lips before laughing at how amazing it was to have her standing before you after all of this time.

They scowled at each other while your back was turned, hugging Faith more gently again. They knew exactly how the other felt about you. Because they themselves felt it.

You opened your mouth to say something but then it dawned on you. You remembered what you had just said to Spike. Suddenly this reunion was bittersweet. You loved her completely and couldn’t leave her side now. But life had moved on and you had found yourself a spirit that spoke to yours. You also loved him.

You looked between them both and time stopped. There was no choice here. You knew who your heart belonged to. It was split in two, in equal parts. Your heart - it was theirs.

[nostalgiahan]

Perfect

word count: 1.7k

genre: fluff, smut, a bit of angst

content/warnings: slight mentions of a mental breakdown, unprotected sex, literally the fluffiest smut ever i’m a loser

pairing: han jisung/afab!reader

You stumbled through the door of your boyfriend’s apartment, hands shaking and tear tracks still visible on your face from the massive breakdown you’d had less than an hour ago. Hearing your small sniffles and the jingling of keys, Jisung emerges from the kitchen, two mugs of tea in hand.

“Oh, no, baby, what’s wrong? Here, I made some tea for you.”

You accept the mug, wobbly grip causing some of the liquid to spill onto Jisung’s floor. That alone is enough to make you burst into tears again, and before you know it, the mug is being removed from your hands and Jisung is plopping you down on the couch and hugging you close to his chest.

“Shh, hey, baby, it’s okay. Just let it out, yeah?”

The feeling of Jisung’s gentle scratching on your scalp and the soft patterns he’s tracing on your back help bring you back to reality, and as you begin to calm down, Jisung lifts your head up by your chin and looks you in the eye, concern heavy in his own.

“What happened?”

You look to the side, trying to focus on the apparently very interesting plant that sits on your boyfriend’s side table.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s alright. Here, do you want your tea?”

A thought passes through the back of your mind. That’s strange. He always tries to figure out what’s going on whenever I’m sad. It quickly passes by, however, and you grasp the mug, taking tentative sips as you feel the warmth seep through your hands.

When the two of you finish your tea, Jisung wraps you in one of the blankets from his couch and sweeps you up in his arms, carrying you in the direction of his bedroom. On the way, he peppers your face with tiny kisses, trying to elicit even the tiniest giggle out of you. Eventually, he succeeds, and you try to bat his face away, only to find your hands are tightly wrapped up in the blanket burrito he’s made for you. When the two of you get to his bed, he climbs on top of you and kisses wherever he can reach until you’re screaming with laughter, trying and failing to swat him off of you. Eventually he loses steam and just plops on top of you, his nose bumping your own as he gives you a bright smile.

“Did that help any?”

You giggle again, nodding. Jisung’s smile grows wider before he rests his hand on the side of your face and leans in, kissing you much gentler than the feverish pecks he was peppering your face with just moments before.

“Good. I just wanna make you feel good, you know?”

A smirk spreads across your face and Jisung leans back, covering his face and whining after he realizes the implications of what he just said.

“Oh, do you now?”

“That’s not what I meant! I mean, I just wanna make you laugh and stuff, not-”

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind if that was what you meant.”

Jisung freezes in the middle of his sentence, slowly dropping his hands from his face and resting them on your ribcage. The pads of his thumbs absentmindedly explore the valleys and ridges of the bone as he ponders what to say next. He doesn’t end up saying anything, though, because before he can put the words together, you’re pulling him down into another kiss. Luckily for you, he seems to get the message, and before long his hips are pressing down into yours, and you can feel the outline of his dick pressing into your leg through his sweatpants.

Without realizing, you let out a tiny whine into the kiss, and Jisung picks up on it immediately, pulling away briefly to lick at the shell of your ear.

“God, you’re so hot. Just let me take care of you, okay?”

You nod just as he moves to your neck, blooming spots of purple and red almost like footsteps, marking where his mouth has been.

Jisung’s hand moves in between the two of you and ghosts over your core, making you shudder and buck up into him. Jisung groans.

“So needy, huh? I guess there’s no need to drag this out.”

Jisung sits up, pulling down your pants and underwear in one go, not even hesitating before lifting up your shirt to expose your chest. As he does, he runs his hands up and down your sides, and the slight callousness of his fingertips skirting over your skin is enough to make you shiver. He takes it completely off, throwing it to the side before attaching his mouth to one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around it and grazing his teeth over the bud.

His other hand travels down, first to rub circles into your hip, then pressing gently on your clit and running his fingers in between your folds, gathering the slick on his fingers before sitting up and bringing them to his mouth. You groan softly and gently tug at the hem of his t-shirt, silently asking for him to take it off. He obliges, soon moving down so his head is resting on one of your thighs. He sucks a few light marks into the skin there before licking a stripe up your cunt and sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Fuck, I forgot how good you taste, baby.”

You let out another groan as he continues gently sucking and licking, eventually threading your fingers through the hair at the back of his head and pushing him closer. Jisung lets out an audible moan between your legs and the vibration feels heavenly. It’s almost enough to make you cum. Almost.

You stutter out something equivalent to “c-close…” to Jisung, and he seems to get the message, flicking his tongue through your folds with renewed vigor. You don’t even notice he put two fingers in you until he’s relentlessly hitting your G-spot, and the stimulation of both his mouth and fingers at once sends you over the edge.

“A-ah, fuck, need you in me, Sung, fuck…”

Jisung just hums and takes his cum-coated fingers into his mouth again before pulling down his sweatpants and wrapping your legs around his waist. He leans down to give you another sickly-sweet kiss before slowly easing into you, watching for any signs of pain. ONce you give him the okay to move, his thrusts are slow and deep, hands exploring every part of your skin as he sucks more love marks into your collar bone.

It takes you a while to process that Jisung asked you something until he stops thrusting. You unconsciously whine, and Jisung smiles.

“Did my baby feel so good that they didn’t hear me?”

You nod weakly, and Jisung giggles, gently cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“That’s okay. I just wanted you to tell me why you were crying earlier.”

You look up at Jisung in confusion, but he just smiles and laughs softly.

“I mean, my dick is literally inside of you. You can’t get away from me this time.”

You huff out an exasperated “fine,” rolling your eyes in mock disgust.

“I’m just having a lot of - ah - trouble with school lately. It feels like - shit, sung - like my professors don’t care about the issues I have.”

Jisung’s thrusts remain slow and steady as he listens.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I just - fuck - I just feel like a failure most of the time.”

Jisung stills inside you and moves your head up so you’re looking him in the eye.

“You’re not a failure, my love. I know it might feel that way, but I’ll never see you as a failure. You’re so perfect. Holy shit, you’re perfect.”

You smile, whispering out a soft “thank you” in between choked moans. Jisung starts moving again, this time with more urgency. 

“You’re so perfect, just for me, yeah?”

“fuck - yeah.”

Jisung leans down again, one hand cupping your cheek and the other holding your thigh up as he pounds into you even faster. He gives you a short but searing kiss before whipping his head back and moaning louder than you’ve heard him all night. You can feel your second orgasm coming on, and Jisung seems to be close too, given that his thrusts aren’t as sharp or deep as they were before. They still do the job, though, and with a few more brushes against your G-spot you cum for the second time, hands grabbing blindly at the sheets and eyes screwed shut in pleasure as you scream out a string of curses mixed with Jisung’s name. Your boyfriend is soon to follow, riding out the both of your orgasms with a few hard, deep thrusts before pulling out and collapsing on top of you.

“Was that good, baby?”

You’re still a bit dazed, and all you can do is nod, but Jisung just smiles and scoops you up in his arms again, walking over to the washroom where he starts to run a bath for the two of you. And as you sat with your back to his chest, strong hands massaging your shoulders and gentle kisses being placed on your ears and neck, you felt an indescribable sense of peace wash over you. Just the thought that Jisung loved and cared about you was enough to relax you into sleep.

Jisung only notices you’ve fallen asleep after the water’s gone cold and you haven’t made a move to get out of the tub. He just smiles to himself and tries his best to get the both of you out without disturbing you, draining the tub and drying you off in it before carrying you out. You sleepily blink your eyes open a couple of times but never stay awake for long, only just enough to let Jisung dress you in one of his hoodies and his favorite pair of sweatpants. And well, if he stays up much longer than you just playing with your hair, unable to stop thinking about how much he loves you, well, that’s his business.

[actually-writing]

Terushima Yuuji x male!Reader

Requested

Content warning: cursing, sick character, Yuuji didn’t take care of himself, like,,, one sex joke technically (in which the reader is implied to be a top but- yeah anyway), if I missed anything let me know

To set the scene real quick (because I’m just like this I’m sorry)- Yuuji is in an extra room that they have, but really don’t use (they don’t have a lot of stuff, what can I say?) unless one of them feels bad (physically, mentally, whatever) but since neither of them get sick a whole lot, and when they do they kinda just collapse where they have their dizzy spell and spend the next couple days living there. Therefor this room has been dubbed the ‘Breakdown Room’ and they absolutely spent money buying a plaque engraved with that name and attached it (and they will 100% be bringing it when they move out) Anyway it’s just a mostly empty bedroom, it’s got a couch and a small table, and a couple boxes in the corner of stuff they had when they moved it (they’re gonna get rid of it because they don’t need it but like,,, busy, executive dysfunction, all sorts of stuff… Anyway onto the story!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re a hypocrite.” “No, I’m Yuuji.”

Y/n gave him an unamused look while he exited the room.

“To be fair, I didn’t nearly pass out in the kitchen,” Yuuji pointed out, giving his boyfriend a goofy grin. Y/n scowled as he walked back into the room with a tray in his hands. “Getting your dizzy spell at work is not better than getting it at home,” Y/n scolded. He looked frustrated but as soon as his eyes landed on Yuuji his gaze softened. It always did.

Y/n set the tray down and knelt next to the couch, reaching to Yuuji’s face and brushing some hair out of his eyes. Yuuji leaned into his touch, letting out a small sigh at the warmth of Y/n’s touch.

“The audacity,” Y/n whispered. Yuuji snickered, flinching slightly as a flare of pain shot through his abdomen. He opened his his eyes and looking at Y/n curiously, wondering if he’d noticed, but the man wasn’t looking at him, instead scanning over the contents of the tray once more. “Me? What audacity?” Now Y/n turned to him with a playful glare. “You just have the audacity to be so adorable all the time. You’re such a pain in the ass,” Y/n grumbled. His voice was annoyed, but the way he very gently ran his hand through Yuuji’s hair spoke more for his feelings than his words ever did. Yuuji chuckled at him again.

“Really? I kind of think it’s the other way around,” he joked, smirking a little and raising an eyebrow. Y/n sucked in a breath and sent him a sharp glare, leaving Yuuji quietly laughing, then cringing as his head throbbed and his torso ached. Y/n took notice of the change immediately.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re gonna be alright, love,” he cooed, once again running a soothing hand through Yuuji’s hair.

“It hurts though…” Yuuji mumbled, pulling his blanket tighter around himself. “I know it does. But you’ll be alright. I promise,” Y/n soothed, leaning forward and gently kissing his temple. “In the meantime though. I brought soup, orange juice, and medicine,” he said, turning to the tray.

Yuuji followed his gaze and moved to sit up, cringing again at the pain and trying to ignore the tiredness in his body.

Y/n quickly set a hand on his shoulder, urging him to lay back down and Yuuji really just didn’t have much fight in him.

“You don’t have to take it now, hon. Go slow with it, alright? Eat first, then medicine, then orange juice.” “Seems specific,” Yuuji murmured. “Well, medicine on an empty stomach would just make you feel worse, so eat first. And medicine also happens to taste bad, and orange juice happens to not taste as bad so…. Anyways what I said was just a suggestion, but you’re definitely eating before taking medicine.” “Aye, aye, captain.” Yuuji grumbled into his pillow, letting his eyes shut again.

Y/n let out a fond sigh and continued carefully brushing his hands through Yuuji’s hair, smiling softly at his boyfriend.

He leaned in and kissed the top of his head, then sat back, adjusting his blanket, smiling a little as he remembered what Yuuji had said to him last time he was sick.

“Just so you know, I will kiss you when you’re sick, so get healthy or else you’ll have to deal with sick me again,” he playfully threatened. Yuuji hummed in response, giving a tired smile. “I know.”

Y/n couldn’t help but remember hearing how after so long couples begin to act alike. Was that happening between him and Yuuji?

Neither of them were very good at taking care of themselves, but they were good at taking care of each other. Maybe the co-dependency wasn’t exactly healthy but no matter the situation, Y/n knew that he would have Yuuji’s back, and take care of him when he needed to, just like Yuuji does for him. Unhealthy or not they were happy with each other, and that’s really all that mattered in that moment. They could learn and grow later, but for now Yuuji lay on the couch with a blanket and a pillow and Y/n curled up next to the couch, leaning his head back into the cushion, taking hold of one of Yuuji’s hands and getting comfortable as both of them drifted on the edge of consciousness.

Yeah, they would be just fine.