#so she just stands there in the dark kitchen. feeling utterly alone in the world
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What a shame⊠you always had such beautiful hair
#my art#artists on tumblr#the legend of korra#seeds of the red lotus#original character#sotrl haya#found this about 90% finished in one of my Procreate folders and decided to finish it off#apparently weâre on a RL siblings roll lately#oh Haya. Haya Haya HayaâŠ#what can I even say about her?#sheâs very high on the list of the worst OCs we have ever created. sheâs truly a vile human being with 0 redeeming qualities#and yet.. here sheâs just fourteen. lost and confused and grieving#a little brother on her hands and no one to turn to. to lean on. no one to take care of her#sheâs a child. she isnât supposed to have to be the adult because thereâs no one else to take up the mantle#sheâs a victim of awful circumstances who nevertheless had the CHOICE not to perpetuate them. but she did#and thatâs why what she did is unforgivable#but thatâs a talk for future Haya. how about we focus on this Haya for now?#I imagine this takes place at some point not long after her parents die#she looks more like Siamak than Afarin but she did inherit Afarinâs hair. it reminds her of her every time she looks in the mirror#and after a while she canât take it any longer#so she stumbles into the kitchen late at night. pulls scissors out of the drawer and goes wild#but it doesnât bring any relief. she looks at her curls scattered all over the floor and she just feels worse#the scissors fall out of her hand and it takes everything in her not to cry because Ghazan might wake up and hear her#so she just stands there in the dark kitchen. feeling utterly alone in the world#and she truly. truly is. isnât she? sheâs alone. an orphaned girl no one will ever care about again. how awfully sad is that?#anyway. moving in before I start crying. you know what I just noticed?#the way I drew this implies the scissors fell out of her left hand. meaning likely she was using her left hand. meaning sheâs left handed#just like Suiren is. does that mean Suiren inherited that FROM Haya? that itâs yet another similarity they share? well it wasnât intentional#but now that Iâve though of it⊠yes. yes that is exactly the case. and Iâm close to biting into a wall because of it#did I ever mention that Suiren is left handed before? I canât remember. but I decided she was +- five years ago. so itâs always been canon
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Pour Some Sugar
1,334 words || AU, Bakerverse timeline, Thinly Veiled Threat, Patriot is her own warning, Baking, Fluff, Sex Mentioned, Patriot/The Deep, Patriot & Reader, Homelander/Reader, Homelander/Baker ||
A little gift for @hom3landr & her Baker - this fits in with her Bakerverse.
Border by Saradika
âWell, donât you smell sweeter than brown sugar.â
You still the second you hear that distinctive voice, quaking as you slowly begin to turn around, coming face to face with her.
Patriot.
Long blonde tresses cascade over her shoulders, a wolfish grin on her cherry red lips and a fierce look in her captivating blue eyes; sheâs the last woman in the world youâd want to be alone with. Homelander hasnât held back his feelings about the Sevenâs newest addition.
âCan I help you?â You ask, trying to stand your ground but shrinking when she steps closer.
âYou can. Homelander raves about your baking; Iâve even had a chance to taste your pastries. They were utterly divine, to die for.â
The way her eyes run over you - youâre not sure if sheâs here for any other reason than to eat you alive. Either way, youâre terrified of her and, more specifically, her intentions.
âIâm glad you liked them,â your voice shakes, not fully believing the sincerity of the compliment.
âConvinced me that youâd be the perfect person to help me with this little task,â she steps closer.
âYou see, I have this âfamily recipeâ from my âgrandmaâ,â she says with air quotes. âItâs for sugar cookies, and I want to make them for my Sugar Cookie, but Iâm having a problem getting them right.â
Sugar Cookie - her pet name for The Deep.
Another thing Homelander has been incredibly vocal to you about. At Vought Tower, theyâve been very open about their relationship, and from what youâve heard, it wonât be long until itâs made public, with Voughtâs marketing team has been working on the âexclusiveâ.
You notice she starts pouting, and suddenly, you become aware that youâve not said anything for a while. Whether itâs from fear or because your mind has wandered, you donât know.
âYou will help me, wonât you? Itâll mean so much to him. And Iâm sure Prince Charming would be happy to hear that youâve been so accommodating.â
You nod despite your inner terror, nervously taking the recipe from her hand and reading it carefully. Itâs an old recipe from the late 1950s or early 1960s, a period of baking youâre not fluent in, but youâre not a novice either. Yet thereâs something about it that bothers you.
Itâs her grandmaâs recipe? But she was born in a lab?
âIt should be easy to make; I can have them ready for you by-â
âAh, ah, ah.â She waggles a finger in your face. âYouâre not making them for me; youâre helping me make them. I want him to know I made them for him especially.â
The idea of spending the afternoon helping her bake in your kitchen fills you with nothing but pure dread. This is your safe space, a little paradise where you make delicious baked goods for Homelander. She tilts her head, those unhinged eyes tinged with curiosity.
âHow do you feel about flying?â
Patriotâs penthouse is imposing.
The dark green walls and hardwood floors are complimented by tasteful furniture, the exact opposite of what you expected. Despite her earlier question about flying, she didnât carry you here; youâd been very forthcoming with your fear.
And sheâd just⊠accepted it.
She was more than happy to let you make your own way to Vought Tower, which further exacerbated the unsettling feeling currently taking up residency in your gut.
âThere you are! I almost thought you wouldnât make it.â
She appears almost from nowhere, no longer dressed in her suit but in civilian clothes: checkered pyjama bottoms, a Deep Thought with The Deep tank top, and no bra.
Sheâs very well endowed.
âFollow me; Iâll show you the kitchen.â
Her kitchen is lavish, the kind of kitchen youâve dreamed about, fitted with the latest appliances. It would be perfect for opening a bakery, but you know everything here costs more than what you make in a year.
âDonât be shy,â she coos gently, carefully grabbing your arm and tugging you closer. âYou can stand next to me. I donât bite, well, I wonât bite you.â
She gives you a toothy grin - flashing her teeth nearly threateningly.
All the ingredients are already laid out, and you spy a bin brimming with burnt and malformed cookies. At least she wasnât lying about her motives to get you here.
âNow, how do we proceed?â
Baking with Patriot has been an eye-opening experience.
Youâve gone from terrified to cordial, something dancing along the border of friendly. Clearly, there is more to Patriot than meets the eye and some vulnerability lingering just below the surface, but that has been kept out of your reach.
âThey are perfect!â She squeals, pulling the cookies out of the oven.
You hover behind her, directing her towards the kitchen island and, more importantly, the cooling rack.Â
âTheyâll need to cool for a little while,â you say, doing your best to hang back and watch while she carefully moves the baking paper from the tray to the rack.
Sheâs giddy with excitement and very pleased with her work, and her reaction makes your chest swell with pride. Youâve never considered teaching someone else to bake, but from what youâve seen today, it might be an avenue worth exploring.Â
âWhile they cool, we can start making the-â
You stop midsentence when you see Homelander saunter into the kitchen, his eyes shifting between you and Patriot. He must have smelt the baking or you and come to investigate. He stands there, hands behind his back and a slight hint of disappointment in his eyes.
âI didnât know you were going to be in the tower today,â he nearly huffs. âI thought youâd give me a heads up.â
You swallow, preparing your answer, only for Patriot to interject before you begin.
âShe didnât know she was going to be here either,â she rolls her eyes. âI needed some help baking, and seeing as youâre constantly raving about her, I thought Iâd ask for expert help.â
âExpert helpâ - that makes you stand straight and proud, still avoiding Homelanderâs gaze.
She scoffs, âDrop the betrayed act. She would have told you she was coming but probably didnât want to worry you. After all, sheâs been spending the afternoon with this âunhinged, big-titted, airheaded bitch.ââ
Now that makes Homelander falter and makes you cringe - itâs probably one of the kinder things heâs called her.
âLook,â she continues, turning her body and looking between you and Homelander. âOnce sheâs finished here, Iâm sure sheâll be happy to spend the evening with you.â
Homelander nods, shooting you a look of concern just as he leaves, glancing at you cautiously while he leaves. He obviously came here not only out of disappointment but also of worry for your safety.
âNow, you were talking about making icing.â
Warily, you enter Homelanderâs penthouse with a box full of iced sugar cookies as a peace offering.
Youâd usually send him a message when you were heading to the tower, but youâd been so preoccupied with your fear that Patriot was luring you into a dangerous situation that the notion had bypassed you completely. Immediately, youâre pulled into a tight hug, the box hitting the ground.
âI was so worried about you,â Homelander mumbles into your hair. âWhat possessed you to help her?â
âShe came by my apartment and asked⊠nicely. I was apprehensive about baking with her in my kitchen because thatâs where I bake for you.â
He releases you from the hug, only to take your face in his hands and look deep into your eyes. âJust⊠next time, please let me know. I donât want anything to happen to you.â
A kiss on your forehead has you closing your eyes and smiling. His protectiveness warms your heart, and itâs one of the many reasons why you love Homelander.
The little heartfelt moment, however, is ruined by the sounds of animalistic sex coming through the shared wall of Homelanderâs penthouse, making you both cringe.
âHe liked the cookies then.â
#homelander x reader#patriot x the deep#this is an AU#into the bakerverse#patriot & reader#homelander fanfic
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Sakura clicks the front door shut behind her, pulling off her shoes and tossing her coat on the back of the nearest chair. Thereâs the telltale sounds of someone cooking, banging pots and pans andâ the smell of freshly washed fruit wafts towards her, and she sniffs in appreciation.
No doubt itâs Sasukeâs latest foray into the culinary world. He had been utterly and completely appalled to find out that Sakura couldnât cook, and then was deeply offended that she had no interest in learning.
âItâs a survival skill,â heâd hissed. âYouâre a field medic. How the hell have you not needed it before?â
âYamato,â she said, voice very collectedly flat, hands clasped demurely in front of her. âAnd Iâm not a field medic anymore. Iâm Head Medic of the village.â Something dark in her had relished in his wince.
Truthfully, she hadnât wanted Sasuke to move in with her. But the councilâ and Kakashi himselfâ had decided that Sasuke couldnât be trusted to live alone. Sakura agreed with that. But him and Naruto together were just going to cause chaos, and he couldnât stand Sai, and everyone else and him were on frosty terms at best. So the problem, much like most problems, was tossed into Sakuraâs lap with nary a second thought by most involved.
Except, of course, for Naruto, who pouted for a full afternoon, because heâd gotten it into his head that heâd be able to see Sasuke every day, Sakura! Heâd perked right up when Sakura reminded him that he could always just⊠come to their house and see him. And then he didnât think about it again. But Sakura did. Sakura always does.
She steps through the kitchen doorway, rubbing at her sore arms. Pulling a double shift wasnât exactly her idea of fun, but it did leave her tired in a loose, relaxed sort of way. The kind of tired where your body feels floaty and yet gentle.
Her calm evaporates when she sees him. Thereâs something about him thatâsâ off. Heâs holding a knife and slicing a pomegranate open, and the juice is spilling onto the counter. It coats his fingers, drips thickly down the glinting metal of the blade. The insides of the fruit are spilling out, seeds bulging from it. Itâs so red, she observes, such a deep red. Much like blood. A lot likeâ
Thereâs something about him thatâs sending her back in time, back, back, until sheâs clutching Narutoâs heart in her hands and jerking it back and forth, back and forth. Pumping blood through his veins with nothing but her hands, covered in his life, hot and thick. Itâs covering her hands like the juice is covering his, so very red.
Heâs got the sharingan trained on her. Itâs red, so much like her hands, like the fruit. Spinning gently, almost lazily, watching her. She tenses, ready forâ she doesnât know, a fight? Thereâs a kunai on her belt and she reaches for it, all her senses sharp like blades, cutting through the cool evening air. He looks like he did then, hair framing his eyes that are so, so red. Red like fire, red like organs spilling onto the coarse dirt of a freshly christened battlefield. Organs she needs to sew together, attached to a person she needs to save.
He looks like Itachi, she realizes breathlessly. His eyes are sunken and his hair is long and he has never looked so much like his brother, tall and yet small. Like heâs curled in on himself. His shoulders are bowed, but his back is straight, hands delicate and yet confident.
He blinks, and suddenly his eyes are black again. She pulls her hand from the grip of the kunai.
âYou use it to cook?â Is what she says.
He studies her for a moment, then shrugs. âI need to be precise,â he jerks his chin towards his left side, where his sleeve is, noticeably, drifting freely.
Naruto got an arm, specially tailor-made by Tsunade. Crafted from wood and chakra and bound to his stump, itâs both moved and fueled by his chakra. An undeniable feat of medical engineering, and an unprecedented accomplishment in chakra manipulation.
It was decided, by the council and Kakashi both, that it would be better to not give Sasuke such a prosthetic. Lest he become able to form two-handed jutsus.
âYouâre making him into a prisoner,â sheâd snarled at Kakashi in the dim hallway beyond the Hokageâs office.
âI love Sasuke,â Kakashi had told her, eyes deathly serious. No hint of a joke in sight. âBut I donât trust him.â
Sasuke waves his hand disinterestedly, still holding the knife. Some of the juice has dripped down to his wrist, staining his soft, pale skin. âItâs not like itâs going to hurt me.â
Thereâs something in his voice, at that. Something that says once it did, something in the flat planes of concrete that is his tone that implies something she canât fathom. It must be about Itachi, she thinks, seeing his shoulders tense and then relax, in that very deliberate sort of way of someone trying to shake the emotion off.
âUnless I piss you off,â he adds, muttering.
She rushes to say, âI wouldnât haveââ
âYes, you would have.â He snaps, punctuated with a sharp thunk of the knife blade hitting the cutting board. Heâs chopping lemons, now. âItâs useless of you to lie, at least to me. Iâve seen what you can do.â
Itâs almost a compliment. The part of her that never grew up is preening, a little, warmth pooling in her belly. The part of her that did is curious, and a little irritated. âI would not have actually hurt you, not unless you gave me a reason to.â
âIâve given you more than enough reason to.â
âThe war is over.â She elects to say.
Sasuke stills. He tips his face upwards, as if facing the sun. But the only thing he must be able to see is the wooden ceiling. The only light that hits his face is that of the lamp, making the planes of his expression glow.
âSo you all keep telling me,â he whispers. His hair is obscuring his face, hiding all expression, hiding anything she could possibly glean about how heâs feeling. What heâs thinking.
She leans her arms on the nearest kitchen chair, bracing them. Her fingers are digging into the wood, and before she can reign in her strength they leave little dents, half-moon marks in the surface. âIt doesnât feel like itâs over for me, either.â
They stand in silence for a long moment. Sasuke begins cutting fruit again, tossing them into a salad bowl as he goes. Sakura watches him.
âDo you miss it?â
âMiss what?â
âThe war.â
He sighs through his nose. âI miss being able to go wherever I want. Do whatever I please.â He gestures vaguely with the knife. âBut no, I donât miss the war.â
He sets the knife down. Turns to look at her. His eyes are opaque, as black as theyâve always been. Theyâre still, like stone. As if heâs staring through her.
âDo you?â
She clenches her jaw. Debates lying. She knows it would be useless to, with the way heâs looking at her. âYes.â
He tilts his head. âWhy?â
âIt was simple.â Sakura voices her inner thoughts. She isnât sure why sheâs telling him, daring to impart this to him when sheâs trusted no one else. Maybe itâs because she thinks heâll understand. Maybe itâs precisely because he wonât.
âWe fought. We followed orders. I didnât have to⊠think. I didnât have time to wonder about what we were doing. If it was the right thing to do.â
A muscle in his cheek jumps. âSo youâve finally figured it out.â
Thereâs a spark of something in his eyes, something like pride. Something like regret. It tastes bitter in Sakuraâs mouth, like rotten food. Yes, sheâs figured it out. Itâs all sheâs been able to think about, hands deep in the innards of the nin they send to her hospital, because the other villagesâ arenât as good as herâs. At twenty fucking years old. Itâs all sheâs been able to think about, breaking into Kakashiâs office and reading documents sheâs not supposed to see, kunai poised at the door. Itâs all sheâs been able to think about, remembering those golden years of youth, when they all laughed a little bit more.
âI wish that things had gone differently,â and itâs the closest she can get to saying what she means.
He smiles. Small, warm, relieved. Just the slightest quirk of lips. The warmth of the expression cracks through his stone mask, spears through the ice heâd met her with just minutes earlier. It lights up his entire expression, crinkles his eyes, raises his cheeks. He looks younger. He looks brighter. She wonders if he had ever thought about that. Wondered about it the same way Naruto wondered about him, pining listlessly for companionship that they couldnât find a way to have except through their fists.
His eyes are still heavy, though, when he says, âI often think⊠that if you had come with me⊠it wouldnât have ended the way it did.â
There is so much she could say. Thereâs apologies in her throat. Thereâs part of her thatâs still angry. It all builds behind her teeth and her tongue until she canât part her lips anymore. All there is is the sound of her breath.
Once, Tsunade had told her that she had a gentle breathing. Like merely the sound of it could soothe a patient. Sheâd said it to assure her, to tell her that for all she may be abrasive, she is a good doctor. That for all she could never stand on the same stage as Sasuke and Naruto, she outclasses them all by a mile in healing.
âYouâre right,â her voice cracks. âIt would have. But you burned that bridge before we could cross it.â And he had, with his cruel words spat at them from across a battlefield, with the danger in his hands, humming with lightning. Sakura had nearly killed him once and once she regretted not going through with it. Now it all just tastes rotten, like vomit.
The smile melts from his face. Part of her relishes on it. Part of her mourns, grieves that smile. Mourns it like she mourns every day when she wakes up, stares out her window and knows that nothing has changed.
He shrugs, seemingly indifferent. âI did. Thatâs my cross to bear.â
He doesnât apologize. Thereâs no point. All the apologies in the world have already fallen from his lips, and Sakura has already accepted them all. Has already told herself to forgive him. Sheâs already heard all the explanations, all the context. Sheâs listened to Sasuke pour his heart out on their living room floor and sheâs shed tears for him on those very wooden planks. She tells herself that she forgives him, because the part of her that never grew up thinks that if you love someone, you have to forgive them. She doesnât have the heart to tell that little girl that sheâs wrong, yet.
She thinks he sees through it. Heâs always been able to see straight through to all the ugly parts of her, the ones she labors to hide. All the pretty distractions do nothing to draw his attention away from those dark parts of her. Like to him, sheâs clear glass. When they were on the battlefield, covered in each otherâs blood, he knew her better than anyone else ever did, and she, him. Maybe they still do.
âDo you regret it?â
He quirks a sardonic little smile. Thereâs humor in his voice when he says, âI also wish things had gone differently, Sakura.â
These days, heâs clear as glass to her, too.
#my writing*#please excuse any innacutiacies I have not watched naruto in full in about 5 years#innacuracies*#except for the changes that are obviously deliberate#like the prosthetic thing#naruto#sasuke uchiha#sakura haruno#idk i think that sakura and sasuke can have a really fascinating dynamic if you lean into it#lean into how sasuke became a manifestation of her self hatred at his worst#attacking her for the things he KNEW she hated about herself in order to push her away#and how it both worked and didnt#but this kind of dynamic necessitates that he like. a) didnt mean it and b) apologizes and shit#but ive just always imagined this kind of ending for them#so i decided to write it idk#that is what i do i suppose#this is not meant to be shippy at all by the way#i. do not ship them. to put it lightly
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Cupcakes and Therapy-Meeting
A/N: I'm so sorry this is late, I had it queued up for the wrong day, but it's finally here. This is just the first part, I plan on continuing this with little blurbs after. I hope you enjoy!
Word Count: 2.15k
Warnings: Some language, a panic attack and talks of panic attacks, falcon and the winter soldier spoilers
He woke up in a cold sweat, the last of his nightmare still fresh on his mind. For the third time that night heâd been jolted awake, the idea of sleep slowly slipping away. The sun was just starting to rise, a few rays slipping through the cracks in the blinds. He hadnât slept through the night since his time in Wakanda. After Steve left him and the fighting stopped, there was nothing keeping his mind occupied anymore.
Slowly, he rose from his makeshift bed on the floor, every inch of his body aching from lack of sleep. He made his way over to the window, looking out at the street below. A new hobby heâd found was people watching, as creepy as it is for an ex-assassin to do, but it calmed him. It brought him back to reality when he felt like he was slipping into a dark place.
He doesnât realize how long heâs stood there until Alpine starts rubbing up against his leg, meowing loudly. Alpine never fails to remind him just how utterly starving he is after sleeping for 22 hours a day. Bucky makes his way to the kitchen to fill his bowl, making note of all the things heâs running out of, a trip to the market after therapy becoming his plans for the day.
He throws a jacket on over his t-shirt and slips on a pair of gloves before leaving the apartment and making his way to the small coffee shop just around the corner. His routine had started consisting of coming here at ungodly hours of the morning for breakfast before making his way to his weekly therapy sessions.
He walked in and sat at his usual table, the barista on shift coming over with his usual coffee and muffin. Bucky hands her a crumpled 5 with a small smile, before grabbing a newspaper. He doesnât really read it, heâs not one for politics before noon, but he does it to keep him occupied. It also helps to make it not look like heâs scoping the place out when he sits there for hours a day.
He sits there sipping his coffee and nibbling on his muffin, still too shaken from his nightmare to stomach much. He looks up from the newspaper every now and then to watch the people around him. Sunday mornings make the cafe crowded, couples and groups of friends line the one wall, families taking up space at the tables, and a few solos floating through.
Thereâs a feeling in his chest that hits him hard as he watches a mom trying to wrangle her daughter as the dad laughs. It hits again as he sees a woman curled into the side of the man beside her, giggling at something heâs whispering in her ear. His eyes shift from person to person, the ache growing strong as his breathing becomes difficult. He stands up abruptly, his knee hitting the table causing his coffee to spill, the few people around him shooting him strange looks. He rushes for the door, barely having time to apologize for bumping into someone.
The heat hits him hard when he steps outside, the feeling of being suffocated only worsening. He canât think straight, the lack of air in his lungs making him dizzy. He turns into an alleyway, leans against the wall and tries to ground himself. A woman spots him as she walks by, coming over to check on him. She rests her hands on his arms, shaking him gently to get him to focus on her.
âSir, sir youâve got to breathe. In, out. Easy, easy. There you go.â
Her voice is smooth, almost melodic, and it does the trick to help calm him. Bucky attempts to follow her breathing, gasps of air slowly turning into steady breaths.
He manages to say a small âThanks,â between breaths. The girl smiles and lingers a little longer to make sure heâs okay before heading on her way. Buckyâs stuck momentarily, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Suddenly much more tired and willing to go back to bed, he wishes he could head back home and hide for the rest of the day, but he doesnât want to deal with whatâll happen if he doesnât show up to therapy.
***
He keeps zoning out as his therapist talks, his mind wandering to what had happened that morning. He was no stranger to panic attacks, but they usually came after a nightmare, not sitting in a coffee shop. And the woman, no ones ever been that quick to help him, not when he looks the way he does. He couldnât stop thinking about her, her face stuck in his mind.
âJames, at least pretend to pay attention.â His therapist's voice knocked him out of his thoughts.
âIâm listening.â
âNo youâre not, youâve got that look on your face that means youâre thinking about your nightmare while telling me youâre not having any.â Her voice is calm, but he knows sheâs getting annoyed with him.
âI can assure you, Iâm not thinking about a nightmare. I, uh, had a panic attack this morning.â He looks away from her, the confession more than heâs ever shared.
âJames, thatâs normal. PTSD has a lot of symptoms.â
âNo, no this was different. This wasnât because of a memory or a nightmare. I was sitting drinking coffee, just looking around, and it hit me. I had to leave, spent a while trying to calm myself in an alley. And this woman, she came over and tried to help me. I mean, it worked, but I just, I donât know. Itâs stupid.â
âItâs not stupid, youâve got to stop downplaying these things.â Sheâs really starting to get annoyed now, her voice now having a slight edge to it.
Bucky canât quite figure out what pisses him off more, knowing sheâs right, or how she doesnât sugar coat things.
âTell me exactly how it started, what were you doing?â
He groans, not feeling up for a heart to heart at the moment.
âListen, I told you. I was drinking coffee and looking around. People watching, I guess. Keeps me occupied.â
âAh,â she sighs. âI think whatâs happening is your minds telling you that youâre lonely. Seeing all those people being happy together, itâs something you havenât had in a while. You need people, James.â
He doesnât want to hear it and she knows it. Itâs all heâs been told for months now. But heâs fine, really. He has weekly lunches with Yori, and Alpine is plenty of company when heâs at home.
âListen doc, Iâm fine.â
âBullshit. After everything thatâs happened to you, being alone is the quietest, most personal hell. And, James, it is very hard to escape it.â
***
The market was crowded today. The mid-summer heat enticing people to spend their days in the sun. Bucky made his way through the rows of stands, stopping to grab various items he thought his fridge was lacking. This had become a weekend routine for him, spending Sunday afternoons trying to create some sort of normality in his life.
He gets distracted momentarily by the sound of a high pitched laugh, forgetting about the bag of fruit being handed to him. Itâs then that he spots you, the same girl who helped him in the alley. Youâve traded your hoodie for a tank top and youâve got a little yellow apron covering you now. Thereâs a basket of pastries in your hand and youâre laughing with a group of people.
That small ache in his chest makes an appearance again, thoughts racing through his mind. Bucky doesnât believe in fate, heâs far too old and seen too many things to think itâs real. But in this moment as he watches you, the girl who took time to care for him in a dark alleyway, looking like the world belonged to her, he canât help thinking that maybe it does exist.
He doesn't know what comes over him, but before he knows it, heâs shoving everything into his bags and heading towards the shop. He doesnât know what heâll say, blinded by the need to just be near her. Before he can reach you, youâve already headed back into the building and stationed yourself behind the counter.
He walks in and is hit with the smell of fresh pastries and heâs brought back to spending weekend mornings baking with his mom and sister. Youâre just finishing up with the group, turning your attention to Bucky, âHi! Welcome to Honey, what can I get for ya?â
Bucky blinks a few times, suddenly losing every ounce of confidence heâd had. âDo you need a few more minutes? Or would you like a suggestion?â
He takes a second to compose himself before replying, âYeah, um. A suggestion, please?â
He doesnât understand where his shyness has come from, but you seem to find it endearing. You motion to the display case and start rambling on about each treat, âThe orange zest cookies seem to be a fan favourite, personally I like the neapolitan ones the best. Weâve also got every flavour of scone you could imagine if youâre feeling more classy. And oh, this one's new, bourbon pecan nut bars, a little midday pick me up. Weâve also got some fresh sandwiches if youâre looking for lunch. Or if youâre still not sure I can do a sampler box?â
âYea, Iâll just get one of those, and maybe a sandwich too?â
âSure thing!â
Bucky watches you fill up a little basket for him, noticing how you add multiples of your favourites. When you head into the back for a moment, he starts figuring out how to bring up this morning without being creepy. He doesnât want to sound like he stalked you, that would really mess up his shot with you. You finish it up with a fresh sandwich from the back and hand him a neatly wrapped basket. âAlright, is that everything?â
Bucky realizes that this is his last moment to say anything, âYes, and no. I donât know if you remember, but Iâm the guy who you stopped to help in the alley this morning. I didnât stalk you or anything, I swear, I was just shopping in the market when I saw you and I thought Iâd come over and say thank you.â By this point heâs wishing the ground would open up and swallow him, his face turning extremely red.
âI thought it was you. Donât worry, Iâm not freaked out. Itâs no big deal, Iâm glad youâre okay. I know how scary panic attacks can be when youâre alone, Iâve had far too many.â You offer him some sympathy, knowing how awful these things can be.
âYeah, yeah Iâm good. Thank you again for the help. Iâm Bucky by the way.â He reaches his hand out towards you, and when you take you swear you feel something, âY/N, nice to meet you.â You reply with a smile.
The both of you stand there for a moment, lost in each other, only shaken out of it by the ringing of the door as someone enters. âI should go, Iâm still on the clock.â You reluctantly let go of his hand.
âCan I get your number before I leave?â The question takes you by surprise, but youâre quick to put your number in his phone, and he makes a promise to call you later that night.
***
When you arrive home that evening youâve completely forgotten about the promised phone call, too eager to make dinner and then climb into bed. Youâre in the middle of cooking when your phone goes off with an unknown number on the screen. âHello?â
âHey, itâs Bucky.â
That voice fills your ears and your heart stops for a moment. He sounds tired, the raspiness sending a warm shiver throughout your body.
âHey, yea, how are you?â
The both of you fall into comfortable small talk. He asks you about work and you tell him about all of your favourite moments from the day. You ask him about the pastries you sent him home with and he confesses that his favorite were the oatmeal lemon cookies, they remind him of the ones his mom used to make.
You end up still on the phone with him by the time youâre curled up in bed, barely able to keep your eyes open. âYou should go to bed doll, I can hear how tired you are.â
âBut whereâs the fun in that?â
Bucky laughs, a small little chuckle, and all you want is to be able to hear that sound forever. âWhy donât you come over tomorrow after Iâve closed up the bakery and Iâll teach you to make something?â
âIâd like that. Iâll see you tomorrow doll.â
âSee you tomorrow Bucky.â
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes fluff#marvel#marvel one shot#bucky barnes one shot#marvel fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfiction
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Secret Brother Pt2
Continuing Ian and Mikhail gonna keep the same tws unless someone's asked for changes
TW: mentions of abandonment. Later parts will have mentions of a borrower being treated like a pet this is entirely painted in how fuckin wrong it is and how it added to the trauma.
Part 1 Part 3 (Final)
Secret Brother Part 2
Mikhail started living a double life after that. He was making good progress with Ian. He wasnât sure how Ian had made any kind of home before, he seemed to struggle with basic bits of borrowing. It was becoming the highlight of most days to go home and sneak in to his own house the size of a borrower. Ian seemed almost nervous to be left in a house with a human alone, it didnât make a ton of sense. The thing that started his move before must have been pretty bad.
The last few months had been a bit stressful too. At least one of his students seemed aware that the dorm âghostâ had left with him. She claimed it was discussing her thesis, but it seemed to be highly focused on borrowers. Although she kept calling it a hypothetical idea of small beings. A study on the folklore of creatures like that which pop up in a lot of cultures. Finding ways to push her to new topics was becoming hard. Mikhail was looking forward to his afternoon with Ian.
âIan, you around bud?â he called out. Ian rushed at him, covering his mouth. Mikhail looked at him curiously. Ian slowly slid his hand off him, seemingly happy with the silence. âWhat was that about?â
âI, uh, I thought I heard the human before,â he said nervously. Mikhail had been quiet, he hadnât even opened his door. âI figured we should be extra quiet today, or just stay here, I have enough supplies for at least a week.â
Mikhail studied him, this wasnât normal. Even if he made noise on his way, he canât hear the noise in the walls as a human. Well he couldnât hear them this far in, he made Ian move to make sure of that. Ian was jumpy, looking around like something would show up out of nowhere. Heâd go with it for now, theyâd hang out in the walls. He could teach him better sewing and they could work out the paths a little more.
âAll right bud,â he said, hoping the smile would calm him. âWe can stay in the walls just get some chores done in here, set up some extra paths you may need.â
Ian visibly calmed hearing that. He grabbed Mikhailâs arm and dragged him to the makeshift table. He had plenty of projects he started and needed guidance on. Mikhail was happy to oblige. They worked in a casual silence, Ian showing the parts he struggled with and Mikhail guiding him. It was a pretty normal day as far as life for a borrower is concerned, but Mikhail couldnât ignore how terrified Ian was. It couldnât just be that he thought he heard Mikhail, or well the human sized Mikhail, in the house. He was trying to think of how to bring it up when Ian dropped his project.
âMik,â he started. âYouâve been coming to this house for a long time right?â
âYeah itâs a normal stop,â he answered. He didnât think he wanted to know where this was going.
âWhat do you think of this human?â Ian looked at him, his eyes had something in them he couldnât read.
âIâm not sure what you mean bud,â he knew the right responses, but didnât want to give them. He didnât want to encourage Ian to be afraid of him.
âL-letâs say, there was a human you knew was bad, like really bad. If you had to pick between them and the human here, which would you pick?â
âI mean, as far as I can tell with this human, they wouldnât do anything bad,â he started slowly. âI donât know how bad the bad human would be in this scenario, but Iâd pick the human who lives here. Iâve known them for an extremely long time, they donât seem the type to do anything cruel.â
Ian nodded solemnly. Something was going on and he wasnât telling him. Mikhail was tempted to push, but there wasnât a good way to ask. He didnât like leaving like this, but he had some work to get done this weekend, he couldnât stay. He ruffled Ianâs hair standing to stretch, then started gathering the few things of his he brought with him. Ian grabbed his shoulder tightly.
âMik, can you stay? For a few days?â his voice was small. Mikhail wanted to stay, to help him with what he wasnât saying, but he couldnât. He had to grade assignments and review thesis topics. He turned with a sad smile to Ian.
âIâm sorry Ian, I canât. Honestly I may be gone for about a week this time. I canât put off this work much longer. It wonât f-â
âCan I come?â
Mikhail sighed, âIan I canât take you with me for these trips. It wonât feel that long promise.â
Ian let go of him. Mikhail turned and saw he looked close to tears. He pulled Ian into a hug, holding tightly. Ian melted into it, seeming to need some sort of reassurance. Mikhail was more reluctant to leave, but he had to work so they could keep this up anyway. He let go and moved towards the exit, relieved to see Ian sitting back down at the table. Heâd tell Ian the truth next time, he had to know he wasnât as alone as he thought when âMikâ wasnât around.
âWeâll talk about some important stuff when I come back too all right?â he asked. Ian perked up, nodding with a look of relief. Things like that seemed to calm him, promises that meant heâd return without that being the promise. Once outside the house Mikhail waited a few minutes before shifting back. He needed to make sure Ian wasnât planning to follow him. Once sure he focused and the world returned to its usual view. He took slow steps toward his car, climbing in to move it. Next time he saw Ian wasnât going to be easy. He pulled the car off to the side, hidden completely from view for the weekend.
He sighed as he walked in, far from excited to deal with the guilt heâd be feeling. He went straight to his desk, if he could make it through the papers fast enough he could talk with Ian sooner. He pulled out the first and got to reading, blocking out the world around him. Ian wouldnât come out for a while based on how he was acting. Hours passed as he worked through the assignments, a number of which would need to be completely redone. The black ink on white paper getting to him, he walked out to get a drink. The house was dark, he never bothered to turn on any lights when he came in. He reached the kitchen and flicked the light on, nearly screaming.
Sitting at the center of the table was Ian, his hook placed clearly out of reach. Mikhail couldnât believe his eyes. He decided to act like he saw nothing, continuing on to get his water. He would go back to his desk and then Ian could keep up whatever crazy thing he was planning. Unless this had to do with the question earlier about trusting the human here. Did he know it was Mikhail who lived here? Ian must have figured it out. He turned to leave, trying so hard not to let his concern show.
âH-human!â Ian called out. There went any hope of pretending not to see him. Mikhail locked his eyes on Ian, the boy flinching as he gained the attention he wanted. Mikhail crouched down, getting himself eye level with the borrower. He was barely ready for whatever this meant.
âHi?â he said. He had no idea how to do this. Wait he called out human, does Ian not know?
âI-I want to make a deal with you.â Ian was trying to be confident. Mikhail felt a lot of pride at that. He was so much more confident than he was a few months ago.
âWhat do you need?â
âI-if youâll keep the bad human from me and my friend Iâll stay with you.â
âWait what? What bad human? What do you mean stay with me?â Mikhail was utterly lost. Ian was here in front of him when he was human. Offering to stay with him in exchange for protection from the bad human. Now he really needed to know what was going on. He leaned down on the table, arms as a pillow, to be a little closer.
âI-I ran away from a human. They were keeping me as a,â he paused a mixture of fear and disgust on his face, âas a pet. Iâll stay with you as one if youâll keep the bad one from me and my friend.â
âFirst no to that whole pet thing, youâre clearly a person. Second, I need to know about this bad human to help.â
âI-I can be good. I wonât run from you. Iâll be the project thingy for you they were talking about. I can-â
âWhoa slow down buddy, I just need information.â Mikhail was trying hard to stay calm. This is what scared him so much. Some human kept him as a pet and brought him to the school. Mikhail was going to deal with this, later though for now Ian had to calm down.
âI can do tricks, I wonât complain really. You can go get a cage now and Iâll wait right here. I wonât move at all. I wonât fight if you try to show me off either. Iâll be a good pet just as long as you protect us.â
âKiddo, I just said the pet thing isnât happening. Iâll just help you if you talk to me about this bad human.â
âIâm not stupid. I know youâll want something eventually. Iâm giving you something. I know you spend time at the place the bad human had brought me. Iâll be obedient for anything you need just keep the bad one away. I put the only way I can get down far enough away. Just admit you like this idea and-â
âIan, knock it off! Iâm not entertaining you talking about yourself like thatâs all youâre good for. Youâre a person, damn it!â Mikhail shouted. He hadnât meant to, but hearing Ian thought heâd like this idea hurt. Over the last few months Ian felt like a younger brother, heâd do anything for him.
âH-How do you know my name?â Ianâs eyes were wide. Mikhail didnât realize he used his name, heâd gotten lucky until now. Ian seemed far more scared than before hearing the human knew his name, starting to back away. Mikhail stood up and backed off. This wasnât what he wanted to happen. He was going to have to show him as much as he hated it. He made his way back over to the table gripping the edge with both hands. He focused on them as he willed himself smaller. He pulled himself onto the table then sped up how fast he shifted. Focusing his gaze on Ian once he was done.
âThis,â Mikhail gestured to himself, âwould be why you couldnât come with me.â
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Jurdan Fanfic: Highschool AU Part 1
Summary: Much to Jude's annoyance and surprise, she and Cardan have been paired for a school project. Cardan's feelings, on the other hand, continue to blossom when he arrives at Jude's apartment only to witness something beyond his comprehension.
Warnings: Mild cursing
This will be an alternative between Cardan and Jude POV just to get a good look at how their feelings develop.
Cardan POV:
She keeps staring at the ring enclosing her finger, her gaze never shifting to the notes scattered on her dressing, her walnut eyes intense with emotion. She kept humming the same tune over and over, her voice as smooth and soft as butter as she traced invisible patterns on her ruby studded ring, its bright red colour magnifying the beauty of her hand.
I had never seen her like this: bursting with emotions. Standing before me was the same girl who lived in impenetrable walls, walls that I had been trying to overcome only to lead us down a path of hatred. She was the girl of steel, no titanium, and yet she melted away like snow in early spring when no one was around.
Her voice echoes in the room which-surprise, surprise- is a mess of pillows and papers. This girl had been haunting my dreams since sophomore year but my foolish imaginations were nothing compared to the beauty that stood before me and when she starts vocalizing, I swear my heart skips a beat.
As she turns to pick up her phone, her eyes find mine and I am robbed of the melodious voice that had filled this room a few seconds ago. I am pretty sure I see her eyes swimming in tears but she immediately blinks them away. She has trained herself well.
I hadn't even realized she was in her bathrobe until she stopped singing and am left with her perfectly masked yet startled cuteness when she becomes aware of her current state.
"Why'd you stop?" I say clearly disappointed, "your voice is beautiful"
"Weren't you supposed to be here at 11 30?", she says completely ignoring what I just said, tightening her robe around her.
"I clearly said I'd be at your place by 11", my eyes skim over her robe and am pleased to see her cheeks flush with colour as I say, "maybe I'll make a habit of coming early"
"How'd you even get in?"
"Your roommate let me in and, oh, she told me to inform you that she will be staying with her boyfriend for a while"
"Wow. She and Van are really speeding things up", there a short pause that feels like eternity before she says, "Okay, now could you go wait in the lounge while I get ready?", she says and something tells me she is not asking. Though I would very much prefer to stay, I obey her orders for she is The Queen of my heart.
Jude POV:
I walk out of the room, no longer dripping, and am utterly surprised to find Cardan lounging on the white sofa, one of his legs draped over the arm rest. He looks...comfy.
I think about the way he was looking at me in awe when I found him leaning against my door, his dark black eyes peering into mine. I had never seen him so captivated. How long had he been standing there?
Your voice is beautiful...
His words ring in my ears and I can't help the faint pink rising on my neck. Cardan Greenbriar had complimented me; that was a first. I was surprised he didn't make fun of me just like he has been since the day I set foot into school. He didn't mock me as he usually would, seeing my emotional outburst. This was Cardan Greenbriar, the most spoiled rich kid who never gave a fuck about anyone.
I had never once let anyone past my defenses, not even my family, foster or not. No one knew about this small world of mine and I liked to keep it that way. That is, until today when I saw a pair of iridescent coal black eyes bewitching me into wanting to tell him everything about this tiny world I had created where I would doze off to whenever I wished. That was when reality hit me and I was reminded of why I had lived in an armour for so long, why I had never let anyone get close to me.
I snap out of my thoughts when Cardan interrupts, "Like what you see, huh?". I scoff and I didn't realize I had been staring at him as he further added, "Should we get on with the project or are you gonna stand there all day, thinking about me?"
"Asshole. You wish", I snap right back at him and he lets out a soft laugh as I go through his notes.
We had agreed on double-checking each other's notes before we started the project, and by the looks of it, we had a lot of work to do. Surprisingly, Cardan's notes were not only correct and authentic, they were thorough and much more organized than mine. He had even used fancy words like serendipity- I mean what does that even mean?
"Jude, I think some of your notes are missing", he says raising his black brows and a book with torn pages.
"Oh, yeah. The torn notes are in a green file right over there", I gesture to the stack of books behind him as he leans over to find it only to frustrate me further when he says, "Uh, Jude. There is no file here".
"It should be there. It cannot go anywhere", I stand up and walk towards the mountain of books.
That was when I realized my foot is asleep and I stumble over a book, covering my face with my hands, ready for impact. Only I don't hit the ground; instead I feel arms slide around my waist and when I remove my hands from my face, the first thing I see are Cardan's eyes partially covered by his black locks.
I almost get lost in the moment. The world stops when he runs his hand through his hair as if he is nervous and he stares back at me. That is, until I remember who he is.
Ughhh....
"Looks like you're falling for me, Jude", he teases.
I abruptly push him off of me and start looking for the notes. Despite my foot still being asleep, I try to walk as if nothing happened but the bastard still notices.
"Here. Let me help you", he reaches for my hand but I stop him with a gesture and he does.
Looks like my defiance all these years really did have an effect on him.
"If you want to help, start by looking for a green file. It is unlabeled, no fancy decorations what so ever"
"What else to expect from the boring Jude Duarte"
"Well, at least I am not like one of those stupid girls who are so easily charmed by you"
"Did you just say I am charming?"
"Fuck off"
"Okay, okay", he raises his arms in defeat and I go to my room to look for the file. My eyes shift to the scattered notes over my bed and my dressing and my carpet.
Shit.
This is going to take longer than I thought.
Cardan POV
As I search through her notes, my thoughts keep drifting to the moment I had her in my arms, her body fitting right into my hands. I battled with the urge to get lost in her deep brown eyes or to drop a kiss on her cute nose.
No, no, no. Stop.
Wine. I needed wine. I needed wine right now.
Jude hated me and I should hate her. She was the one person who had refused to let me get my way and would continue to do so. She could never want someone like me, let alone love. This was just a project and as soon as it would finish, we would go our separate ways.
And yet, I cannot help but think about her all the time.
Jude POV
I return to the lounge drenched in sweat, panting and gasping for air. I had been rummaging in my room for the past hour and had finally found that file.
I slam the file onto Cardan's face and he doesn't dare reply when he sees my tired state. I sink into the sofa, one hand covering my eyes the other blindly searching for the glass of water on the front table.
"What happened to you?", Cardan asks as I open my eyes to find him completely shocked but instead of answering him, I gesture towards the file while gulping down my third glass of water.
"Let's continue. I don't want to waste any more time", my voice is dry as I open my laptop to start typing in the outline and he continues to examine my notes.
"God, your handwriting is horrible", his voice is filled with surprise as he brings one of the papers closer to those haunting, dazzling eyes to get a better look but gives in and throws it back onto the table.
"If you can't read it, why don't you make me something to eat instead?", I say robotically while looking at my screen and had not expected him to actually go to the kitchen in search for food.
My eyebrows furrow together as I walk up to him and say, "I was joking! Come on, we gotta get this done"
"I know you were joking and I know we have to this done but I am hungry and if you are not going to ask me then I am going to make myself", he complains as he looks around, opening cabinets and drawers.
"I didn't know you could cook", I say clearly perplexed by his actions.
"There are many things you do not know about me, Duarte", he continues his search and when I have had enough of his noise I say, "Stop! Okay, stop making noise! God, it's like raising a child or something", I grab the spatula from his hands but he takes it back saying, "Well, I am hungry and I can't work when I am hungry and by looking at you, you should be too"
As much as I would hate to admit it, I was hungry and I felt like I hadn't eaten in ages.
"Fine, you cook and I am going to take a break and watch some Netflix", I say right before telling him about where I keep the food and where the utensils are.
"One more question. Should I make sandwiches or hotdogs?"
"Lilliver usually does the cooking so, whatever you want", I turn on the television and continue to watch Shadow and Bone, each episode more intriguing than the last.
I hadn't realized an hour had passed when Cardan came with sandwiches.
The room is suddenly filled with the smell of freshly made sandwiches and that does nothing to satiate my hunger as I reach out for the dish set in front of me but Cardan quickly grabs the dish before I can get my hands on a sandwich.
"Patience is a virtue, dear Jude", Cardan says raising a long slender finger in the air.
"First of all, never and I mean NEVER call me dear", I glare at him as I grab the dish back, careful not to break it, "And you took so long making sandwiches that I got hungry"
I take a bite of the sandwich and if I am being honest, I had never tasted such sandwiches in my life and Cardan must have noticed me and my increasing craving for his delicious sandwiches that only seemed to make my hunger more insatiable when he said, "Either you like them", he gestured towards the half-bitten sandwich and its cheese dripping from the side of my mouth, "or you haven't eaten all day"
"Hmm. Yeah, I think it is the latter", I lie through my teeth with ease as I take a second one into my mouth.
I would never compliment him to his face, especially since I don't want him spreading the story in school.
"Why are you acting like this?", I ask out of nowhere before I can even process what I just said out loud.
"Like what?", he asks dumfounded
"I don't know, you seem a bit more... tolerable, I guess", my voice almost drops to a whisper as I stare at my third sandwich, suddenly looking for something more interesting in a piece of food that would soon be in my mouth.
He doesn't answer but I am able to see his mood shift as his body language completely changes and his muscles become more stiff. His pupils become dilated and he looks every bit as horrifying as he did when he once threw dust into my food after I had punched him.
All of a sudden, I regret what I had said and cursed my stupid mouth for opening itself.
We don't speak to each other for the rest of the night and though I hated Cardan with all that I had, one small part of me felt that there was more to this person, that he was more than just a bully and that I had missed an opportunity to get to know the real him.
Let me know if you wanna be tagged! Also, I will now on follow a policy of following back those who follow me, just to spread a bit of kindness!!
Taglist: @wanderingpagesâ @thatrandomfangirlllâ @slightlyrebelliouswriter23â @acourtofhearts @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @aesthetics-11 @angelpaulene @annihliation @anyaskywalker23 @ashlightgrayson @augustintodarkness @awkward-avacado-s @babycardan @beholdyourqueen1 @booklover-sleeplover @booksandothersecrets @booksofthemoon @b00kworm @cabeswater-and-camaros @cardaans @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @cardanslittletail @cardanstrickytail @courtofjurdan @feysand-babies @firestarsandseneschals @fizziefaerie  @highladyofthefangirlcourt @highqueenjudeduarte @hizqueen4life @hoegreenbrair @hopefullyanauthor @hurema @iammissstark  @im-wintermelody @iminsanenotobsessed @ireallyshouldsleeprn @jessacarstairs @judiecardan @junipersuns@jurdanhell @justtryintolivemybestlife @jyoti96 @katexrenee @katsemkitgostadetog @kevin-day-is-bi @kingandfireheart @kittkatandbooboo @knifewifejude @lady-thea-of-narnia @larrysaturn @leaff-life @lemon-check @life-in-black-lines @lifeminuspickles @livelovereading123 @localgoof @lordoftermites @greenbriarxrose @queenofbunnies13 @fanficreader435 @nightspeckle @thewickedkings @the-cruel-prince-cardan @myqueenjudeduarte @florafey
#jurdan#jude x cardan#jude duarte#cardan greenbriar#high king cardan#cardans tail#cardan's letters#jude greenbriar#judecardan#cardan x jude#high king of elfhame#high queen of elfhame#high queen jude#cardan and jude#the cruel prince#the wicked king#the queen of nothing#the folk of the air#shadow and bone#jurdan fanfic
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â â đđđđźđđąđđźđ„ đđ§đ đđ„; (tyrion lannister x f!reader)
@multifandomfixââ requested:Â Hey, for your start of the year event, could I get #44 with Tyrion Lannister, please? Thanks in advance if you end up choosing it. I hope 2021 will be a great year for you. đ
song: bazzi - beautiful |Â đ
summary: How could he tell you it was all his fault - that he had loved you to pieces since the stars had taken their first breath, and that Tywinâs revenge on him was to make you suffer while he was powerless?
author notes: I ainât never seen a fluffy one-shot written by me, always half of it gotta be depressing
word count: 2.7k (what the HELL)
warnings: language + the typical stuff thatâs commonplace in GoT
đđđđ đđđ đđđđ younger, young enough to hear her speak freely around you, youâd often heard the illustrious Cersei Lannister, blessed may her reign be, mutter her implacable adage through slit eyes and arrogant teeth; in Westeros, when one played the game of thrones, they were either crowned or buried. Some win and some die, sheâd state with a smug grin, ignoring Jaime rolling his eyes right by her. You would always nod in silence; partly because you, lesser Lady of Kingâs Landing, certainly did not dare to contradict your most redoubtable playmate; but also because, deep down, you believed in her truths. Youâd seen it when your father came back from his battles, commanding the Crownâs armies across the Southern seas, or when you heard the whispers at Court of yet another fallen Lord who believed he could play with fire like the Targaryens; there was little more than victors and vanquished, and you, as a lady-in-waiting to the future Queen, could sleep easy at night knowing you were on the right side of the world.
Yet when the rebellion led by your fatherâs army of mutineers was crushed by the Kingâs forces, when your brothers all fled into exile across the continent; when your title, name, and lands became those of a traitor to the Crown; you understood that in the game of thrones, death was the only blessing the powerful bestowed when they were clement; for there was far crueler and harrowing a punishment than torture: humiliation and servitude.
King Robert Baratheon, his mercy guided by Tywin Lannisterâs murmurs, decided against sending you to death as he would have any of your brothers, despite the abject crimes your name now carried. In all his bonhomie, he had made you a servant of his wife instead, perpetually condemned to following the Lannisters around and never quite catching up to them.
âWhy did the King spare my life?â you had asked Jaime one time, in hushed tones, aware that a servant caught talking to the Kingslayer with such familiarity would cause quite the scandal.
âProbably because he knows you were always a dear friend to Cersei and me.â
That was Jaime, as always; believing what he wanted to believe, and damned would be the one whoâd change his mind. And to think he still thought, with a disconcerting assurance, that Cersei and you were still dear friends...
You hadnât asked her why you were still alive. You knew sheâd eye you for a moment, then order you to fetch her some water. She savored the sight of you in rugged clothes and immensely exhausted.
The only one who knew was Tyrion.
He always knew everything.
Even more so when it was about you.
âWhy did the King spare my life?â you had asked him one evening, in the quiet banquet hall, only illuminated by flickering candles. He had looked up from his chalice of wine and at you, clearing the last dishes from the grand supper, and he swore his heart ruptured. He loved nothing more than staying absurdly late after dinner so he could catch you alone, but when your misty eyes, still too pure and bright for a world so cold, asked such unfathomable questions...
âI donât know,â he had muttered casually.
Neither of you believed it. There was nothing Tyrion didnât know.
But how could he tell you it was Tywinâs sick little pleasure, to keep you in chains at an armâs length from him, from his embarrassment of a son? How could he tell you it was all his fault - that he had loved you to pieces since the stars had taken their first breath, and that Tywinâs revenge on him was to make you suffer while he was powerless?
âSometimes I wish he had not,â you had confessed with this outrageous beauty of yours, chin up and prosody of a dame despite the greasy plates in your elegant hands.
Tyrion had bitten his tongue hard enough to draw blood. You were not the Kingâs prisoner, nor the castleâs, nor your family nameâs; you were his, and he loved you so ardently, beyond all the words he knew, that he was utterly paralyzed.
The wine and hall were long cold by the time he went to sleep that night.
The following days, inexplicably, Tyrion was the first of the family to retire to his quarters after dinner. A pang of sullenness stung your throat when you brought the usual wine cup to an empty chair. Never before had he gone to bed without wishing you goodnight. Not since the night, so many years before, when you had run out on Cersei and Jaime to stay with their boring and lame little brother and talk the night away with his electric soul...
âWhy didnât Tyrion wait for you?â Jaime had whispered into your ear as you leaned over to pour him more wine.
You froze, almost long enough for Cersei to flair your discomfort. That was Jaime, as always; surprisingly perceptive when he allowed himself to be...
âI donât know.â
You and Tyrion were so alike. You had the same inflection in the voice when you admitted to not knowing something... frustration and defeat.
âMaybe heâs not feeling well. You should check on him.â
âIâm certain he is fââ
âY/N, go tend to my brother, please,â he cut, his voice a little louder.
You stopped, looking at Jaime, strong and tall and almost imperturbable. You were a servant of the Lannisters, but Jaime rarely bossed you around. You looked deep into his eyes, looking for a hint, a glimpse... and found it; a remnant of the boy you once knew, the childhood friend you sparred with wooden swords with. The boy with mischief and connivance.
âYes, of course, my Lord.â
Your footsteps already echoed in the somber halls when you remembered you hadnât even brought the wine pitcher back to the kitchens.
Before you knew it, you were standing in front of Tyrionâs closed door. Years before, you had run up and down all the castle halls in search of passageways and hiding spots with a giggling Cersei on tow; yet you had never felt as lost and out of place as you did then, knuckles hovering over the wooden panel.
âLord Tyrion, your brother asks to see you,â you called in one breath after knocking sharply. Calling the twins by their titles was disturbing enough to you; but Tyrion, brilliant and dedicated Tyrion, Tyrion you'd find reading hidden in the library and who'd blush when you asked him what his book was aboutâTyrion, a Lord of Casterly Rock?
âNo, he does not.â
There was nothing he didn't know. Especially when it came to his brother... and you.
âI...,â you sighed, at a loss for words. So many untold truths jostled in your throat, none eloquent enough for his bright soul. âHe insisted I check up on you, sir.â
âWell I'm fine, am I not? You can go now.â
His words echoed in your skull with the strength of a thousand storms. Taking a shaky breath, you prepared to turn around and leave him... but a sudden force rumbled deep in you like a menacing earthquake. You might have been stripped of your lands and rights, you might bear the name of a traitor and a criminal, but he had been a general before he was a corpse and you had been an eldest daughter before you were a plaything. Your foot grazed the door, almost with too much violence, when you turned to face it.
âTruth be told, IÂ wanted to check up on you as well, and to tell you that Iâm bewildered at your recent behavior towards me, and that I donât think I have done anything to deserve this shift in your attitude, and that I esteem you dearly and dared to hope that it was the same for you, and that I am frankly hurt by your sudden coldness, and that if you will not deign to tell me whatever is happening, then I will merely wish you a pleasant night and disturb you no further. Sir.â
Catching your breath, you turned on your heels before you could regret any of the words youâd just said. It would be a miracle if Tyrion managed to catch any of them clearly with how fast you had hammered them; let alone answer to them... yet as you were about to leave, the door was unbolted, and there stood a seemingly somber and preoccupied Tyrion.
âCome on in. And please, weâre alone. Donât give me any of that âsirâ crap, I know you hate it.â
And like so many times, so many years before, you stepped into Tyrionâs quarters like inside a forbidden dungeon, but it all seemed twice as small and dark as it did when you were reckless children.
The both of you remained silent for long moments, even after he had motioned for you to take a seat on the ottoman at the foot of his bed; the shadows from the fireplace projected onto his face made Tyrionâs unmoving silhouette all the more unreadable.
âIs it something Iâve done?â
âDo you wish to know why the King didnât have your head when your father rebelled? Well â why my father didnât?â
Your eyes widened for a split second, but your irritation barely subsided. For some reason, despite your never-ending quest for answers, the subject of your familyâs treason and fate always prompted you to defensiveness when it was mentioned by others... especially by your best friend. The one who knew too much.
âWhat does this have to do with anything, Tyrion?â
âEverything, Y/N. It has to do with everything.â
âEnlighten me, then. You always know better than everyone else.â
Tyrion took a deep, interminable breath before continuing. It was only then that you noticed how shaky his hands were; for the first time, you read a disconcerting uncertainty on his face.
âMy father knows humiliation is far worse than death, especially among Lords... and he knows how to take the most pleasant acts of revenge on his enemies. Your last name... and myself.â
You kept quiet. The puzzle was starting to piece itself together, spurred by Tyrionâs voice, low and even, albeit a little unsteady â as though the charred logs and crackling fire were confiding in you themselves...
âHeâs known you since you were an infant. You were always proud and righteous, a proper Lady and a treasure to your name, but still pure and kind... all the traits I adored in you when I first met you. He knew nothing would hurt you more than stripping you of everything you had - status, respect, poise, and dignity... and your friends. Heâs burying your familyâs legacy under grime and filth and savoring every second of it...â
His words became progressively spaced, as though he was choosing them carefully. You hadnât yet noticed your own hands were shaking now, too.
âAnd he can screw me over as well. Any chance he gets, he takes.â
His shoulders were solid and unmoving, but his words came in ragged breaths and laborious swallowing. He took a step forward, finally breaking free from the backlighting of the fireplace; his eyes were fixated on you, resolute and, despite the nervousness, more tender than ever. You remembered the expression all too well; it was the one he had worn all through the night you had talked until daylight about anything and everything... and seeing the enamored child in the man before you, you started to understand it all.
âHeâs always known how much I care about you. How your presence never fails to lighten my mood and ease my worries, or how Iâve always looked for excuses to talk to you alone and catch your eye at supper. Most of all, how youâve always given me exactly what I wanted... a chance. And he always thought it was the ultimate example of my weakness. To kick you around like an animal when I canât do anything about it and know itâs all partly because of me is his favorite game...â
You clasped your hands together on your lap to curb your agitation. He had taken another step towards you, and you couldnât break away from his gaze. Each of his features held more love than youâd ever known; more than when your father would ruffle your hair, or when youâd share your family tart with your brothers and smeared all the jam on their cheeks; and you couldnât fathom how long it had taken you to discover this warm and fuzzy feeling you got whenever Tyrion was around had a simple name: home.
âTyrion,â you spoke before the tears invaded your eyes. âAre you saying you fancy me?â
âAh, to hell with it.â
Eyes entirely bathed in light now, he responded almost immediately and clearer than before.
âIâm saying I love you, Y/N, and that I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I first thought that I only liked your company, and admired your grace â that you were just the sister I wish Iâd had, but Iâve had to face the fact that your face and voice set me afire in a way that nothing else can. Iâm light and naive when youâre around... and you make me believe I have the strength they all wonât stop blabbering about. But I thought that if I could convince my father I saw nothing more in you than a whore like all the others, he would maybe let you go... maybe set you free.â
And the last confession seemed to hurt him more than everything else he had admitted that night, because it cut him right in his pride.
âI was wrong.â
An impossible soreness had taken over your throat during Tyrion's tirade, leaving you struck and mute. For a few seconds, all you could hear was the gentle hooting of the wind outside and the rapid and disjointed thumping of your heart... when you spoke eventually, it was but a hoarse whisper.
âAll these years...â
âYes.â
âAnd all those girls I had to see you with...â
âNone of them mattered. None of them were you.â
âWhy didn't you tell me, Tyrion?â
âWhy would I?â he puffed with an acerbic laugh, gesturing at his frame, his scars, his cynicism and selfishness, and his wit and brilliant mind and feverish eloquence and golden eyes...
And suddenly your father's voice echoed in your head, unmistakable yet so distant, as he had spoken to you one day when you were little; he had said that angels existed in this world, closer than one might expect, and more often than not they took on unexpected forms, but once could always recognize them as they were the shiniest forces in the world around when everything was grim and black.
Maybe it was the dim lighting of the fire and moonlight that cast abstract shadows on the walls, or maybe your eyes and heart playing tricks on you, but you swore Tyrion was veiled by a pulsating halo, gold and black, that got even more radiant as he half-smiled.
When you leaned over and kissed him, you did not doubt that he truly was the angel your family tales had told you about, and maybe the only remaining angel in Westeros â because kissing him was like every star in the sky falling into place and forming new constellations, and when he grabbed your face to deepen the kiss, you were certain you felt his wings rustle.
âYou have the most beautiful soul in this damn city, Tyrion,â you breathed when you finally pulled back.
Had he always looked at you with this unshakeable air of triumph and delight, or was it another trick of the light?
âIf you knew how long I've waited to tell you how beautiful you are...â
âTell me. Over and over.â
There was a smile on his face, the first genuine and devilishly charming one you'd seen in weeks when he stepped back and closed the velvet curtains.
He told you all night.
tagging; @fives-cup-of-coffee â @softeninglooks â(all my writing)
#writing in formal english is so hard? when it's not your first language? you're just like 'does this mean something or am i making this up'#mywriting#game of thrones#got#tyrion lannister#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones fanfic#game of thrones one-shot#got imagine#got fanfic#got one-shot#tyrion lannister imagine#tyrion lannister fanfic#tyrion lannister one-shot#tyrion lannister x reader#will spellcheck this tomorrow morning so for now have this#multifandomfix
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Foreverland
â Words: 15.2k
â Genres: 95% Fluff, 5% Angst, Peter Pan!AU
â Summary: Just because you're nineteen doesn't mean you aren't still a CHILD! So why does everyone want you to grow up so badly?! Is it so wrong to not want to work? To get married?! And for heaven's sake, you'll wed anyone but boring Namjoon! Little do you know, a certain fairy boy's about to grant your wish and whisk you far away from this nightmare.
cr.
You flip the page of the storybook.  It sits on your lap, the two covers spread over your thighs, the page corners crisp against your fingertips. The colours seem to jump out at you â raspberry, periwinkle and kelly vibrant against the white. And youâre completely enthralled with the adventurous storyline, studying the sentences before your eyes follow the illustration of the garden gnome climbing the mountain.  âY/N!â  A sharp shriek interrupts your concentration and you look to the house porch. Your mother has her hands on her hips, apron tied around her waist and ladle in hand. âHeavens to Betsy! What did I say about climbing trees again! Are you tryinâ to break your neck?! Get down here this instant, young lady!â  You sigh, jumping down from the thick branch much to her horror. But your landings are always perfect. This spotâs perfect. You donât know why she has such a bone to pick with your favourite reading place.  Not only was the tree branch comfortable, but you got the biggest and brightest view of the grassy field and can feel the wind whisking through your hair. Not like sheâd understand.  She never liked heights.  âLook at yourself,â your mother chastises and starts to brush off the skirt of your dress. âYou got so dirty. You canât be looking like this when Namjoonâs coming by.â  âAgain?â Your exaggerated exhale gains the lift of her brow. But you canât help it. Itâs not like your walks with Namjoon are something you enjoy. âI donât like him, mom. You know that.â  âThen who do you like?â  You recoil. âNo one.â  âYouâre not a child anymore, Y/N. Youâre already nineteen and youâre turninâ twenty soon. And what happened to your friends? Sarahâs already gotten married and so did Irene.â  âThatâs because they had no dreams,â you tell her. âTheyâve always wanted a boring life.â  âWell, itâs time for you to grow up,â she huffs, holding you by the shoulders and looking at you one last time. âIf you donât want to get married, then move out and get a job.â  Heck no. You donât want any of that.  The last thing you want is to be like Sarah or Irene who only knows how to gossip over tea and plan how many babies theyâre gonna have. Or be like your parents. Your fatherâs a war veteran and always working long hours while your motherâs a homemaker â sheâs so bored in the neighbourhood that she frets over every detail about you and drives herself nuts.  You donât know when it became like this but all the adults are so utterly boring.  It seems like everyoneâs grown up to live a monotonous life in the suburbs and you refuse to follow.  âY/N?â  Your train of thought comes to a crashing halt by a tall dark-haired gentleman with rounded glasses. Namjoonâs always been polite and well-mannered but his talking can get you fast asleep. âAre you okay?â  âIâm fine. Thanks.â You muster a smile, looking away from the kids crowding around the trees and climbing them, giggling, hooting and hollering at each other.  As Namjoon walks past them, he shakes his head in disapproval. âTheyâre so noisy.â  âWhen was the last time you climbed a tree?â you suddenly ask.  âI never really did. I always preferred to build train sets and reading.â  Immediately, your eyes light up. âReading?â  âEncyclopedias.â  Your eyes dim just as quick. âOh.â  //  The pastel mint thatâs engulfed the dining room â walls, chairs, tablecloth â is washed out, especially with the dim yellow ceiling lamp hanging over the rectangular table. But you donât comment when the pastel pink kitchen looks much worse. Your parentsâ decorating choices have always been questionable to you.  âI heard Namjoon came by,â your father says at dinner. âHow was it?â  âSame as always.â  It goes silent. The air is awkward and your mother clears her throat noisily. The mashed potatoes taste bland on your palette.  âYou know, he came by the other day to have a chat with me. It seems like heâs quite serious.â  You have an inkling of what your fatherâs trying to get at and you put your fork down, allowing it to clank against your dinner plate. âNamjoonâs terribly dull.â  âHeâs a respectable businessman,â your father asserts.  Your mother agrees and chimes, âNamjoon isnât boorish.â  âHe has no life in him,â you retort back. âWatching paint dry is more fun.â  Your fatherâs brow jumps and he raises his voice, âHe will be a fantastic family man.â  âHe has a great background, dear,â your mother offers in a softer tone.  You abruptly stand, chair legs squeaking against the linoleum, not wanting to hear anymore of their reasons. No matter what you say, they have hundreds of defenses. No oneâs actually listening to you. They donât understand!  âI wonât marry him, never ever. I wonât get a job either! I hated working as a secretary!â  âSit down, Y/N,â your father deadpans, looking back at his dinner plate as if youâre just a dog barking. You donât faze him whatsoever. âYouâre not a child who can throw a temper tantrum anymore.â  âI am a child!â  âYouâre nineteen,â he reprimands. âItâs time to grow. up.â  âUgh!â You whirl around and stomp up the stairs, abandoning your dinner on the table. Your mom calls after you, demanding to know where youâre going, but you get to your room, slam the door shut and lock it.  You dive into your bed, face flat into your pillow.  A moment later, you hear a knock but when you donât respond, the steps fade away.  Itâs always like this. You donât know why so many kids want to grow up quickly to be adults when thereâs nothing fun about it whatsoever. You donât want to marry Namjoon. You donât want to be a housewife for the rest of your life. You donât want to work for someone else either.  You just want to be free â is that so much to ask?  All you want is to read, to go on an adventure, to escape to somewhere else, be someone else.  You move your face to the side and out of the pillow to finally breathe and your eyes incidentally stray out your windows. Itâs a starry night tonight, pinpricks of milky light glittering over the dark horizon. You find yourself standing up and walking over to open the latch. Immediately, fresh air whisks inside your suffocating room and you inhale a deep breath.  You lean on the window sill with your arms, pupils flickering up to the bright North Star in the sky.  Itâs silly and naive, but with how dismayed you are, you shut your eyes and wish upon that glimmering star. You wish that someone could take you away from here. Far, far away. To a place where there wonât be any expectations for you. A place where you wonât have to work. Where you wonât have to marry Namjoon.  A place where your dreams could be granted.  But not for a second do you expect for your wish to actually come true.  You become sleepy while resting at the sill, lids heavy as you begin to drift off. But then, thereâs a tickle at your nose and a light tap of your shoulder.  âMamaâŠ.stop it,â you groan, âIâll talk to you laterâŠâ  Yet, thereâs a harder tap and a deeper voiceâ âHello?â  Your eyes shoot open at the unfamiliar timbre and your eyes narrow in on a man-boy floating in front of you. Dark hair. Twinkling irises. A mischievous smile. You stumble back on your butt and scream.  No one hears you, not your parents who are heavy sleepers or the noisy neighbours who somehow have taken a day off from snooping around. So, youâre left alone to face the stranger whoâs seemingly not standing on anything. Heâs just outside your bedroom window, floating mid-air.  âW-Who are you?!â  You have to blink thrice to make sure youâre really seeing turquoise fairy-like wings.  âNameâs Seokjin.â A sparkly red vest with golden trousers and a blue hat with a green feather on the side â he looks like heâs come straight out of one of your storybooks. âBut you can call me Jin.â  âWhat are you doing here?â your words stutter out.  âI heard a wish being made and came to grant it.â  Jin floats down and steps onto your window ledge, peering curiously inside your room.  âItâs quite pink,â he notes and the corners of his mouth upturn into a perfectly rounded smile. âIâm guessing thatâs your favourite colour.â  Without warning, the stranger comes in. An uninvited guest whoâs all too meddlesome with the trinkets on top of your dresser. Your eyes bulge, brought speechless in the meanwhile. You wouldnât know how to explain if your parents were to come in and see this stranger walking around your room.  You donât even know if heâs a man or a boy in the first place. Itâs almost like heâs both â one second, he looks young and the next, he looks to be around your age. But one thingâs certain. Heâs tall, height overcoming yours, and he has light blue translucent wings on his back.  âWhat are you?â  The question stumbles out without much thought and you realize a little too late once itâs said.  He whirls around with a frown and lolls his head to the side. âIâm a human.â  âHow does a human have wings?!â  He laughs, a bubbling sound emitting from his mouth, and he looks behind him. âOh this? Itâs magic. I guess that kind of makes me a fairy.â  You wonder if by fairy, itâs the fairies in the books youâve read and you wonder what exactly he means by magic. More importantly, you wonder if this is all a dream in the first place.  Jin holds out his hand, palm lifted upwards and after a beat of hesitation, you take it. He helps you stand up on your feet again and smiles. âWhatâs your name?â  âItâs Y/N.â  âThatâs a nice name. Okay, letâs go.â  âExcuse me?â You blink hard, questioning if heâs even from this world. âGo where?â  âForeverland, silly.â Jin smiles, plump lips pulled, cheeks puffed out like loaves of bread, brown irises twinkling. âDonât you want to escape from here? Go on an adventure? Come on!â  He takes your hand, leading you to the window, but your steps are slow. âWhereâs Foreverland?â  âBoy, you ask a lot of questions, donât you?â He looks back at you with a boyish grin. âJust come see for yourself.â  You wonder if this is a dream. If it is, then thereâs no point in staying in your room.  So you simply nod and his smile widens.  Jin gets onto the window ledge and pulls you up with him. But before he can go any further, you blurt out, âWait!â And he promptly halts, looking at you to see if thereâs anything wrong. âD-Do I need to bring anything with me?â  He laughs at your question.  âNo.â  Then, before you can even blink, Jin jumps. With your hands held, you fall out the window after him and scream at the top of your lungs. Yet, thereâs no fall in the pit of your stomach. There isnât a rush, the wind tearing through your hair, or the impending splat on the ground.  You peel open your eyes to discover Jin carrying you. An arm around your back and the other behind your knees. Immediately, you loop your arms around his neck and find your house becoming smaller and smaller as he flies away.  âDid you really think I was just going to let you fall?â the strange boy asks with a cheeky smile.  âYou shouldâve warned me,â you murmur, not putting up much of a fight or complaining when you were too busy looking at the view. You were flying over the entire city, watching the way the lights of the buildings glimmer into a mosaic of colours, your house now a mere dot in the distance.  Itâs a breathtaking sight, reminding you of stars in the distance. Except they were the buildings you entered on afternoon shopping trips with your mother or streets you biked through. You could see the diner and the record shop and even the drive-in theater!  Jin smiles as he looks at you. âIf youâre impressed now, wait till we get to Foreverland.â  You turn your attention to him, eyes running from his lashes to the slope of his nose and the dip of his cupidâs bow. The breeze makes your cheeks warm and you take the opportunity to pinch yourself on the arm.  It hurts, which only means one thing. This isnât a dream.  âHow are you doing this?!â  âI said it before!â he exclaims in a pitched voice. âMagic!â  It canât be real. But at the exact same time, it is.  And with that realization, you start hollering at the top of your lungs, momentarily startling the boy carrying you. âI canât believe this is happening! This is amazing!â  Jin grins. âI know!â  You cheer as if youâre on top of the highest mountain, as if youâre facing the endless ocean and screaming your name, as if the entire world could hear the howls coming from the pit of your stomach. Exhilaration bleeds through your veins and you laugh aloud, finally feeling alive.  Instead of feeling fearful, cautious, or burdened with an apprehension you know anyone in your position would have, youâre elated. For the first time, you were finally going on an adventure.  The two of you fly a bit more, soaring beyond the wispy clouds and blue oceans, until the golden sun starts to rise over the horizon. As soothing as it is, to where you could fall asleep, you make sure to keep your eyes open to catch it all. And soon enough, Jinâs swooping downwards towards an oblong-shaped island in the middle of nowhere.  âWelcome to Foreverland.â  A sandy beach, an open field, a forest nearby. Jin lands and sets you down onto your feet. The grass is pliant beneath your toes and you look around with your lips parted.  âWhat is this place?â  âAnything you want it to be,â he says. âForeverland grants magic, so anyone can escape to it. Here, you can make your dreams come true. Anything in your imagination can be real.â  If what heâs telling you is true, then the possibilities are limitless. But you donât know what to do, where to start.  âWhere do you live?â  âIn that treehouse.â Jin points a few paces away to where the forest and the meadow meet. You see an enormous tree that looks centuries old with winding branches that act as a staircase and a tiny fort fit at the top. Cute windows, warm lighting spilling from inside and a string of bulbs wrapped around the green foliage make up his cozy home and youâre put in awe.  âThereâs magic all around us,â Jin says with a small smile after watching your reaction. âYou can do whatever you want. Try it.â  âHow?â  âJust imagine whatever you want!â  It sounds too easy, but even though youâre not quite sure what you want to do, you shut your eyes anyway. Somehow, your mind strays to how you always wanted to be a princess when you were younger and then to the castle dollhouse your aunt got you for your sixth birthday.  Lilac walls, three towers, trim wrapped in pink, a brown gate, teal roof, the ribbon flag.  And then you open your eyes again.  A gasp befalls your lips. The castle you used to play with as a child is built right in front of you, manifested from thin air right to the last detail from your memory. The flourishing bed of flowers and winding cobblestone path welcomes you inside as the castleâs majestic ruler.  âLooks like you have a natural talent for this,â Jin laughs with an enormous grin.  âThis is incredible!â You donât know what you want to do first. If you want to run inside the castle and look into all the rooms, if you want to fall back on the meadow floor and imagine pools of chocolate, or if you want to feel that buzz of magic again, those vibrations in the air that still tingle on your skin. âWhy arenât there more people here?â  âThereâs a lot of visitors, but no one stays for long,â Jin says, his expression unrecognizable in the split-second that it changes. He smiles again before you can decipher it. âBut you can stay here for as long as youâd like.â  You decide that you want to go inside the castle first.  You run around the halls, up and down the stairs, flinging bedroom doors open and sprinting across the massive ballroom with the hanging chandelier. There are three levels in total, ten rooms, a dining hall and the top of the highest tower gives you the best view of the forest and the mountains in the back.  Jin follows you in the meanwhile, infected by your excitement and answering the numerous questions you have. He seems happy to share Foreverland with you, and your mindâs already racing with countless ideas of what to do, build and create. Or at least until your stomach grumbles.  âHungry?â  You sheepishly smile. âI guess.â  Jin grins as if itâs a problem easily solvable, but youâre not sure what he has in mind when he leads you through the thicket of the forest. Itâs an uphill climb, the lush canopies letting through the rays of sparkling morning light while the chickadees and blue jays chirp, wings fluttering overhead.  The tree trunks eventually open up to a cleared riverside with enormous rocks scattered around.  But what takes your attention is the long, white table and rounded chairs all around. Thereâs cake stands filled with buttered pastries, frosted cakes, teacups and teapots discarded and a radio on top of a rock.  âWhat is this?â  âItâs where we have our tea parties,â Jin informs with a smile as he pulls out a chair for you and you plop down with a fork materializing in your hand.  Instantaneously, magic thumps the air and the teapots start to dance. Fuzzy folk music plays from the static radio. And the appliances start to swirl to the cheery rhythm, tilting back and forth as teacups start to levitate in front of you. Itâs like something straight out of a book and you laugh as you watch them.  The teapot pours a cupful until it spills over and you quickly take it.  âThank you very much.â  Itâs the best earl grey tea youâve ever had and your eyes widen before youâre sipping it again. If possible, the teapot seems to blush and pours you another cup.  âHave some cake,â Jin suggests, sitting on the other side and watching you with a grin. The fork flies out of your hand to cut into the slice and the silver utensil feeds you itself. The sweetness explodes on your tongue.  âThis is amazing, Jin!â Youâve never been allowed to eat so many sweets, not when your mother was constantly nagging and telling you to watch your weight. But thereâs no one here to tell you otherwise, so you fill your stomach until it aches. The plates and utensils also settle down after they accidentally dribble frosting on Jinâs hair, much to the boyâs dismay.  The tea party concludes after youâve had your full and you bid them goodbye.  âDid you like it?â The both of you are strolling back into the forest, Jin matching your steps.  âDid I ever!â You laugh. âIt was spectacular. Foreverland is spectacular!â  âIâm glad.â He smiles to himself at the same time your eyes stray over to a majestic tree sitting in the middle of the magical forest. Large trunk, enormous branches, your steps speed towards it.  Jinâs brow raises but he follows after you, watching you hoist yourself up on the first branch.  âYou gotta be able to see all of Foreverland up here.â  The boyâs amused and his wings start fluttering. âI could always fly you up if you want.â  âThatâs cheating,â you argue, grappling with another before pulling yourself up. âMy dadâs always told me that the effort makes the result sweeter. Plus, thereâs nothing quite like climbing trees. You should try it.â  Jin observes the way youâre already sweating and out of breath, and opts not to. âIâll stick to flying.â  âSuit yourself.â You dust your hands before jumping to grab another branch.  You can tell Jinâs impressed at how youâre maneuvered yourself but itâs all thanks to your childhood in the countryside. This is nothing. And in just a few minutes, youâve made it to the top of the ginormous tree, overlooking the entirety of Foreverland. Jinâs wings stop flitting as he sits down on the branch beside you and you both soak in the scenery.  The wind tears through your hair and youâre left breathless, gazing upon the painting-like island. You can spot his treehouse from afar, the castle youâve built, and the beaches near where you first landed. The greenery and blue horizon seems to stretch on for miles, and itâs all laid out in front of you for your eyes only.  You donât notice how Seokjinâs turned his head to look at you.  âThis is so unbelievable,â you exhale.  None of you see the green leaf beside you that withers away.  âIâm glad you love it so much.â Jin smiles. âYou can stay for as long as youâd like.â  The sun is hanging high in the sky, signaling itâs already afternoon and you realize that in your excitement, you havenât had a wink of sleep. Up here, itâs quickly catching up to you. Youâre too comfortable against the tree trunk, unable to stifle your yawns, and your lids become heavier.  The second time Jin glances at you, he finds your head bobbing and he smiles.  He carries you back to your castle, through the window into one of the rooms and he places you on the soft bed. In your deep slumber, you hear a soft voiceâ âSleep tight, princess.â â and for some reason, you rest easy.  //  In your dreams, thereâs a man-boy with wings wearing a ridiculous outfit, red vest and golden trousers with a blue hat and a feather on it. But somehow, he seems to sparkle and so does the place he takes you to. Magic thrums the air, vibrating on your skin and anything you wish for can be real. Itâs a fantasy world straight out of the many storybooks youâve held tightly ontoâŠ.  In your dreams, you want to stay forevâ  FWOOP.  Thereâs a deafening noise in your ear. A violent rush of wind smacking your face. You open your eyes with a shriek already tearing from your raw throat.  Onyx eyes sit high on the creatureâs narrow skull and they stare into yours, mere inches away. There are horns on top of its head, body crimson and scaly with a row of larger scales running down its spine. Its black talons are sharp, gripping against the edges of the shattered shingles.  Dragon.  Itâs a colossal dragon. And itâs ripped off the roof of your castle.  The creatureâs shadow looms over you and every exhale from its nostrils whisks your hair back.  This isnât a dream. It isnât. âJin!â  You scream at the top of your lungs, scurrying back in a cold sweat, blood curdling at the back of your throat. âJin! Jin!â Thereâs only one person who can rescue youâ âSeokjin!â  The dragon leans down and it nabs the hem of your white nightgown with its pointed teeth. Youâre immediately lifted into the air with another screech violently ripping through your vocal cords. The dragonâs wings flap aggressively and youâre practically dangling diagonally in mid-air.  Oh shit. Shit!  In the midst of your panic, you scramble for a way to save yourself and then you remember. This is Foreverland. Anything you want can become a reality. You can grant any wish you desire.  So with that in mind, you quickly think of a witchâs broomstick. Something you can easily fly away on. And just like that, it manifests itself beside you, parking next to your dangling body.  A smile stretches into your features and your arm lifts toâ  The dragon bats it away. As swiftly as it appears, the broom is being flung downwards.  The creature increases its speed, beginning to circle the island and you resort back to screamingâ âJin!â  Youâre shivering as the dragon soars through wispy clouds, heading towards the mountains past the forest. When the creature starts to sweep downwards, your shrieks only increase in volume and pitch.  Then, the dragon drops you.  Youâre flailing for ten seconds, mind-blank, the pit of your stomach falling up into your throat, your screams becoming soundless. But before you slam into the ground, your body is plunged into light green.  It absorbs your speed. Cushions your landing.  And you open your eyes to figure out that youâve been dropped into a humongous plate of jelly. Unable to breathe, you start eating your way out towards the light. Your hands shove backwards as if youâre digging yourself out of dirt and your mouth chomps down until youâve broken free.  Gasping, you pull the rest of your limbs out of the green jelly and stumble to the ground.  The taste of green grapes linger on your tongue.  But more importantly, your attention is stolen by a figure standing on top of a gray rock. Ruby cape, golden crown lopsided on a black head of hair. The stranger suddenly turns around and youâre faced with a rabbit-like boy â doe eyes, a big nose, pouty lips.  âWelcome to Jelly Mountain.â His voice is smooth and he hops down to hover over you. âYouâre my new hostage.â  Suddenly, thereâs rope bounding your entire body.  Youâre utterly confused and you realize youâre quivering uncontrollably. âW-Whereâs Jin?â  The corner of the strangerâs mouth tugs.  âSeokjin?â He barks out into deep, sinister laughter. âDead, of course.â  Blood drains from your face.  The turmoil slams into your frame. You burst out into tears.  The stranger goes completely silent, eyes widened as he watches sobs choke out of your chest and he flinches back. âWait. A-Are you okay? Is everything alright?â  Dead. Jinâs dead. Devastation wrecks you entirely and you lose strength fighting, flopping over to weep into the ground. Just like that. Heâs. Dead.  Your captor cautiously approaches you while you blink past your hazy vision, teardrops hanging off your lashes. And once he gets close enough, you lift your foot to kick him in the knee. Hard enough that you can hear a crack in his joint.  âOof!â  The boy doubles over and you get to your knees, rage replacing grief. âWhy would you kill Jin?!â  âWho killed me?â A familiar voice sounds overhead and you knock your head back to see a dignified silhouette standing at a higher cliff. Jin flies down in front of you and points a wooden sword at the king.  But the boy wheezes and lifts his palms up. âI give, I give.â  The ropes around you instantaneously vanish and the second it does, you rush upwards, launching yourself at Jin. Your arms open and your bodies collide against each other. Heâs surprised and stumbles back before he smiles modestly. Jin pats your back as you mumble into his shoulder, âOh god, a dragon took me from my bed and I thought you were dead for real and I was so scared.â  The wind ceases for a moment, the sky losing its blue vibrancy for a sheer second.  A soft laugh emits from Jinâs lips and after you let go and he whirls around to the other boy. âLook at what you did, Jungkook.â  Jungkook scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. âIâm sorry. I was just kidding, I didnât know you would take me so seriously. This is how we usually play.â He melts into a timid sort of smile and approaches you again to properly introduce himself. âIâm Jinâs imaginary friend.â  Before you can think too much, Jungkook eagerly shakes your hand. âI was really excited when I heard there was someone new in Foreverland.â  âWell, itâs nice to meet you too. But itâs very rude to take your dragon and steal me out of bed,â you huff out, almost sounding like your mother. At the same time, said dragon pops up from behind a rocky boulder with sad eyes and a whimpering noise.  You recoil and dart to hide behind Jin. But he laughs and steps aside. âItâs alright. Everyoneâs friendly here.â  The dragon is clumsy as it tottles towards you and it bends over to dip its head down. You hesitate, but with Jinâs encouragement and his reassuring nod, your hand lifts and you pet its mound. Youâre shocked to find the scaly texture softer than expected, though your caresses are cut short when it nudges you with a puff from its nose. The dragonâs tail is wagging.  You step away after a held breath, turning to glare at Jungkook and he ducks his head.  Jin laughs and takes your hand before another argument or fight can take place. âAre you hungry? Letâs go have some cake and tea.â  You allow him to lead the way and Jungkook strolls along with his arms folded comfortably behind his head. âI want earl grey!â  Youâre not sure how imaginary friends work in Foreverland. But you donât know how Jungkook is so life-like. If you were told he was someone like you and Jin, then you would believe it.  Jungkook readily drinks up all the tea until the teapots are tired of pouring. âUgh, scones?!â He tosses the scones over his shoulder and indulges in cake just as much as Jin does.  There are still so many things about the power of Foreverland you have yet to learn.  âWhat do you want to do now?â Jin asks as the four of you tread through the meadow. It was a new day and a day full of endless possibilities.  You hum, considering it for a moment. âHave you ever read Jack and the Beanstalk?â  âWhat?â  A seed materializes in your hand and you lean down to plant it into the soft dirt. Both Jin and Jungkook have inquisitive expressions, but you simply step back and let magic do its work. It takes an anticipated second of bated breath held in throats. Then, thereâs a splitting noise.  The ground shakes beneath your feet and a thick, green stalk blasts from the ground. It sprouts, twining and twirling upwards, growing past your eyes and the cotton clouds.  You turn around to Jin with a cheeky grin. âWhat are you waiting for?â  You start to climb the soft vines of the huge beanstalk, hoisting yourself upwards while Jinâs wings begin to flutter and he takes flight beside you. Jungkook, in the meanwhile, stays rooted to the ground and you look down at him, asking if heâs coming along.  âIâm fine,â he declines politely. âIâm not one for heights.â  âAlright.â  You continue onwards while Jungkook waves with the dragon beside him. Seokjin, on the other hand, is eager to see whatâs awaiting him at the top.  âWhat is this?â  âItâs the beanstalk from Jack in the Beanstalk. You know, the story about the boy who traded in his cow for magical beans and it grew the next morning.â When Jinâs expression remains blank, you elaborate, âHe fought the giant, took the goose that laid golden eggs and became rich. Have you never heard of it?!â  Jin merely shakes his head and youâre absolutely appalled.  âItâs a fairly famous fairy tale.â  âI was never allowed to read much of them,â he says passingly and notices how youâre starting to break into a sweat. âI can fly you up.â  âNo.â As tiring as it isâ âI love climbing.â  Within minutes, your fingertips can grasp the white clouds and your castleâs diminished into a mere smudge. You heave your body upwards with one last surge and collapse onto the clouds.  Foreverland has become the size of your thumb, surrounded in the abyss blue ocean. But you donât look down for long when thereâs so much to see around you. Itâs just how you envisioned â a kingdom above the clouds, mist thin at the horizon, pastel blue overhead.  Jin lands on the plush surface and seems to be even more amazed than you are. He stares at the cotton clouds that stretch beyond the sky and after a beat, starts to jump. He bends his knees, springs upwards and bounces off the clouds.  âLook!â He laughs and you giggle, mimicking him. Itâs soft beneath your feet, dipping when you land and pushing back as you hop from place to place. You twirl around when you capture air time while Jin seems to be having the time of his life, jumping as high as possible.  âThis is so much fun!â  âWhat did I tell you?â  For once, youâre glad you can finally be the one to show him something new.  âI can jump higher than you can!â  âNot for long!â  But the bouncing session is cut short when you leap towards him and he drifts to the side in mid-air. Your heads bump into one another, skulls knocking â and you both fall back with groans and sharp inhales.  âOuch!â â âUgh!â  You pout, rubbing at your pulsating forehead while Jinâs cowered over and scratching his crown.  âCanât you watch where youâre going?â  âItâs not my fault,â you retort. âIâm not the one with wings.â  He snorts and to get back at him for the injury already fading away, you collect an armful of the clouds. They remind you of the soap bubbles in a bubble bath, foamy and fluffy, and you fling it at Jin. The majority hits his face and some floats down on top of his head.  You burst out laughing at his wincing expression and how the clouds have clung to his hair and the area around his mouth like he has a beard. âYou look like Santa Claus!â  âOh, youâre gonna get it now.â He wipes his eyes and you giggle, staggering back to your feet to run. Jin regains his own footing and starts chasing you with an even bigger armful. âGet back here, coward!â  âHey! No flying! Thatâs cheating!â  âWe never made up any rules!â He grins as you struggle to run on the bouncy surface, restoring to leaping away. The pair of you are laughing incessantly until your stomach aches, but then youâre interrupted by a deafening roar.  Harsh wind swoops your figure back and youâre startled, falling onto your butt again. The red dragon soars past the clouds with its wings expanded. It circles over your head before landing a few steps away. Yet, instead of being frightened like earlier, you laugh this time.  Jin slows down and smiles. âThe dragonâs name is Lady.â  âLady?â  You look around from Jin to her, noticing how long her lashes are. She stares at you as if anticipating something.  âSit,â you command on a hunch and surprisingly, she listens. Lady plops down on her behind and her tail begins to swing from side to side. You ease and step closer towards her. âRoll over!â  Lady rolls on top of the plush clouds.  Your thumb and forefinger shoot out. âBang!â  Lady flops to her side as dead weight and you burst out laughing, coming up to pet her, scratching right under her chin. âGood girl. Youâre such a good girl, arenât you? Yes, you are!â She practically melts in your hand, nuzzling into your palm.  At the same time, Jin watches you with a softened smile. The horizon loses its bright hue.  //  âHave you ever heard of the Little Mermaid?â  âTell me about it.â  âWell, itâs a story about a mermaid who falls in love with a prince she rescues. She trades her tail for legs in exchange for her voice to be with him. But he thinks someone else saved him and marries that girl instead.â  Jinâs brows are deeply furrowed, taken aback by the fairy tale. âThen what happened?â  âSheâs given the choice of killing him to get her tail back, but in the end, she canât do it. So she throws herself into the ocean and becomes sea foam.â  âThatâs sad,â he says on an exhale, genuinely saddened by the story and you suppose the first time hearing it is always the most emotional.  But you agree with him. Part of you finds it hard to understand why someone would give up their family and home, but your friends always said love makes you do crazy things â whatever thatâs supposed to mean.  Your hand tightens on Jinâs as the both of you swim deeper into the oceanâs trenches. The only way youâre able to breathe comfortably is through the water-breathing seaweed you thought of, and you were pleasantly surprised to find that something doesnât need to exist in the real world to materialize in Foreverland.  The waters are perfectly still, a vivid cyan with the golden sunshine from above cascading through. It shimmers all around you and once the soft sand floor comes to view, so does the rocky towers and arches.  All from your imagination, youâve constructed a whole water kingdom. Now, colourful schools of fish glide past you, anemone and seaweed practically wave, seahorses swim by and the corals decorating the structures are vibrant against the stony shades.  Jin smiles, swimming closer with you hand-in-hand so none of you can drift away. âI never thought about doing this.â  âHave you ever heard about Atlantis? Itâs apparently a city underwater thatâs sort of like this too. I read it in a book once.â  âYou really like to read,â Jin muses and you nod.  âItâs the only time when I can be somewhere else without having to really be there.â  Jin stops at the center of the cityâs square, surrounded by the many towers and buildings youâve created in the middle of the sea. âYou can make all those stories come true in Foreverland.â  As sincere as his words may be, they spur on your curiosity. âHow long have you been in Foreverland for?â  âI donât remember.â He looks to the distance. âA long, long time.â  Before you can dwell on what he says or decipher the expression on his face, youâre swept up by a school of rainbow fishes that tickle your skin. A giggle emits from your lips and air bubbles float upwards as the water sparkles around your frame. With the distraction, you donât notice the way Seokjinâs gazing at you.  Or the way the sunshine shimmer dims.  //  Itâs a busy day â from being woken up by a dragon quite literally stealing you out of bed, having a tea party, climbing a beanstalk to jump on bouncy clouds, and exploring an underwater kingdom, you and Jin are equally winded when night arrives.  So the pair of you opt to gaze at the stars instead of going on another adventure. You lay next to each other on the meadow floor. On top of a bed of soft grass with daisies surrounding you.  âDid you know the North Star always stays in the same spot?â  âReally?â Jin shifts his head, looking at your profile instead of the glimmering pinpricks of light. A daisy near him droops.  âAll the constellations move except for that one. Itâs pretty easy to see too. Itâs right there.â You point upwards. âIf you can find the Big Dipper, you can find the North Star.â  Jin smiles to himself as you chat about all the things you know. Heâs always been the one showing others, guiding them around, teaching them about Foreverland. Itâs nice to be the one who listens for a change. But eventually, heâs lulled by the sound of your voice and your own lids begin to droop before youâve realized that youâve dozed off.  Itâs a bit later on that in your sleepy haze, you feel the brush of a blanket.  Jungkook sneaks by, draping the cotton over your forms before he lays down too with his arms behind his head. Lady, on the other hand, curls around your frame to further keep you warm.  And the four of you fall asleep like that, out in the open of the most magical place.  //  Time passes quickly in Foreverland. You suppose itâs like that when youâre busy having tea parties with Lady, Jungkook and Jin. When youâre going on adventures together. When youâre exploring the entire island. Telling each other stories. Manifesting all kinds of creations.  But every so often, your mind strays and you wonder what your family at home thinks.  Youâve been at Foreverland for more days than you can count on both your hands and you donât want to leave. But you wonder if you should. You wonder if theyâre worried. If theyâre searching for you.  The last conversation you had with your parents was an argument. You didnât mean to stomp off, to disappear completely. You just didnât want to marry Namjoon, but itâs not right to end things that way.  And all of it weighs on your mind.  It lingers. Even when youâre laughing, giggling, having so much fun that you want to stay forever.  âJin.â  âHmm?â  âShould I go back?â  He turns to you abruptly, like he already knows the meaning of those four words, as if you donât need to explain any further. And his brows furrow deeply, boyish visage ruined by the hurt.  âWhy?â  âIâŠ.just donât want my family to worry about me.â You fiddle with the long strands of grass spilling past the gaps of your fingers. âIâve been here for a long time.â  âTime works differently here than it does where the others live,â he says and your eyes connect. âYou donât need to be worried that theyâre worried. Theyâll barely know youâre gone.â  Itâs comforting to be assured by him, but it still doesnât solve the unrest stowed in your heart.  Itâs not right to abandon them. To leave your family behind. Even if they, themselves, donât knowâ  âWhat do you want to do?â Jin suddenly asks, interrupting your thoughts with his gleaming irises.  You hum, tapping your chin.  He smiles. âDo you want to go on a pirate adventure again? Or go slay the giant.â  âI have a better idea.â A grin swells into your cheeks as a suggestion forms in your mind. âHave you ever heard of Cinderella?â  He shakes his head.  âOnce upon a time, there was a girl named Cinderella born, and she grew up being mistreated by her stepmother and stepsisters. One day, there was a ball in the kingdom and everyone went, except for her. But then her fairy godmother came and gave her a beautiful dress. She went to the ball and danced with the prince.â  âThereâs a lot of princes in these fairy tales,â Seokjin interjects and you laugh.  âYes, there are.â You chide, âDonât interrupt! I havenât finished.â  âSorry. Keep going.â  Night sets and stars paint across the sky like silver glitter spilled onto black paper. A full golden moon sits high up to accompany the stars. The weather is warm and the breeze caresses against your cheeks, a perfect cuddle against your form. The light from inside your splendid castle spills out on the horizon of the otherwise tranquil Foreverland.  âThe spell wore off at midnight, so right before the clock struck the twelfth hour, the girl ran away and she only left a glass slipper behind. The prince tried to find her and once her foot fit the slipper, they got married and lived happily ever after.â  Jin hums, less amused than he was with the other fairy tales you told. âWhat do you want to do with this story?â  âHave a ball, of course! It would be a lot of fun.â  âIâm not really the dancing type.â  âThen Iâll just have to teach you!â  The rounded carriage pulls up to the stone steps of the castle and you get out, kitten heels hitting against the cobblestone. Youâre a bit more clumsy walking in them than you expected, but Lady grunts happily and helps you up the stone stairs by nudging you with her head. You pet and praise her when you get to the top and her lashes flutter as she lays back down at the bottom.  Youâre not one for dressing up when your motherâs always nagging and fretting over every single detail. But itâs fun to do it yourself and envision that youâre an actual princess of Foreverland. It feels like youâve completed another one of your dreams â purple ball gown, flowers sewn into the skirt, sparkling tulle overwhelming, and a crown of daisies in your hair.  For once, you feel less like the tomboy climbing trees and more like a princess from a storybook.  âWelcome.â Jungkook smiles boyishly, dressed in his own costume. White shirt with ruffled sleeves, long blue coat, breeches and stockings â he looks silly, like heâs from two centuries ago, but you donât laugh in case he gets embarrassed.  Tonight, Jungkookâs playing the role of the squire after all. And he stands near the entrance, happily allowing the grand doors to open. He grins before announcing your name, âY/N!â  Once the crack of the door parts, your eyes fall directly to Jin in the center of the golden ballroom.  There are funny puppets youâve made filling the room â paper figurines you used to cut out as a child now full size and flapping to the breeze, stumbling around as a poor excuse of dancing. They make you laugh, the sound traveling mellifluously above the violins and trumpets playing by themselves in the corner. Itâs the good kind of classical music that adds to the elegant atmosphere.  But you donât dwell, not when Jin holds out his hand and you walk to him before taking it.  You slide his one hand on the small of your waist while your hand is placed on his shoulder and you hold his other. Jinâs dressed in princely attire, black jacket with a golden sash across and dark trousers. His hair is pushed to the side, revealing his forehead and you muse how it makes him lean to the older side of his usual appearance.  âYouâre very handsome,â you admit with a smile, realizing his shoulders are broader than you ever considered. âHow do I look?â  âPretty,â Jin exhales and the way he says it makes you embarrassed as well. Youâve never been complimented excessively in your lifetime, but enough times that they easily roll off your shoulders. Yet, somehow, with the way heâs staring at you, with the way the syllables stutter out of his lips, a single word you know that is genuinely spoken, you feel your face heating.  âThank you.â You divert your eyes towards your shoes and guide him with your steps. âStep back once and then to the side. One, two, three. Like that. See? You got it already! Who said you couldnât dance?â  Jin hums, naturally falling into a rhythm. Heâs a fast learner.  âDo you feel like a princess now?â  A cheeky grin swells your cheeks. âI do with you around.â  âThis is surprisingly fun.â  âOf course, it is.â Your eyes flicker to the chandelier hanging off of the rounded, high ceiling. Then to the polished marble floor thatâs ornate with flowers and swirls. The entire room is a warm, yellow hue and it seems to sparkle. âThe pictures of balls were always pretty in storybooks. I liked them as much as the adventure stories.â  As the music swells, Jin spins you around and you twirl across the floor with a hand held.  But as you land back into his arms, his left foot smashes on yours. âS-Sorry!â  Laughter bubbles out of you. âItâs okay.â  You look into Jinâs eyes, soaking in just how brown his irises are. They resemble the warmth of the sun, a cup of coffee your dad would brew on cold mornings. Theyâre deep and comforting. And for a mere moment, it feels like youâre just two people who met at a dance hall one magical evening â same-aged strangers who couldâve run into each other serendipitously.  âHow old are you, Jin?â  âWhatever you want me to be.â  Suddenly, you realize your feet are not on the ground anymore. Youâre levitating, floating mid-air, gliding upwards. Immediately, you gasp and grip Jin closer, pressing your body onto his.  He smiles tenderly.  âJin!â  âItâs alright. Just trust me.â  The music crescendos as you dance while drifting around the ballroom in his arms. The skirt of your gown sweeps with you and magic thrums the air, vibrating on your skin. You feel enchanted, swept up in the moment, in his eyes and embrace.  The corner of Jinâs mouth tugs and a quiet giggle befalls your lips as he twirls you around again.  When the both of you become tired, you get back to the floor and stumble out onto the castle terrace laughing.  Youâre still catching your breaths, his cheeks rosy and yours warm. The violins are muffled behind the glass doors.  âLook at the stars, Jin!â you tap his shoulder twice, pointing upwards to the boundless horizon.  You donât notice how heâs turned to gaze at you. How his eyes have become tender. âIâm looking.â  You rest against the balcony railings with a quiet sigh. âWe shouldâve done this sooner.â  âWe could always do it again.â  Your head swivels over and youâre caught off guard to see Seokjin staring at you intently, as if he has something to say but doesnât quite know how to. Your breath hitches in your throat and you gaze back at him, eyes met, tension overwhelming. Itâs a moment that reminds you of when you were younger, when you used to peek into the kitchen at night and see your mom and dad at the counter speaking in low tones â intimate. The word you were searching for: intimate.  Ding Dong. You snap back to your senses when the clock strikes midnight. The bell chime resonates through Foreverland and you grin.  âGuess thatâs my cue to leave.â  Staying true to the tale of Cinderella, you slip away from his side.  Yet, youâre immediately pulled back. Seokjin takes your hand before you can fully walk away, cradling your palm gently in his. âY/N,â he calls you quietly and you spin around. âStay with me.â  Youâre not sure why he has that expression on his face. Why he looks anxious. Why his wings become transparent.  âIâm joking,â you say with a smile to ease him. âI donât need to run off at midnight like actual Cinderella.â  âNo. I mean...stay with me in Foreverland.â A pause. His deep timbre is heartrending. âYou donât need to go back.â  âJin.â You step closer to him, brows furrowed deep enough to hurt. You donât know what to tell him. You donât know how to utter the words that are restrained in your throat. âI have to go back eventually. I canât just leave my family behind forever and I can always come back. Itâs not like youâll be alone anyhow. You have Jungkookââ  âYouâre different,â he instantly blurts and you frown, not sure you quite understand.  âWhat do you mean?â  Jin opens his mouth but closes it a second later. âIâm not sure. Youâre just...different.â  Youâre utterly confused, but unable to dawdle on the subject when he smiles and squeezes your held hands, pulling you back into the ballroom. âLetâs dance some more.â  //  Itâs seldom that you awake peacefully â without Lady ripping off the roof of your castle to pick you up by her teeth, without Jungkook bouncing on your bed and pretending heâs a knight in the middle of battle, or Seokjin trying to tickle you to consciousness to start the day of adventures.  But today, itâs quiet. Unusually so.  When you step out of your castle, youâre horrified to find the ground split. The land across Foreverland is cracked several inches wide and deep enough that all you see is darkness when you peek in. Itâs as if there was an earthquake or a storm that caused an earth fissure.  The flowers have lost their colour â petals and leaves monochrome. The trees donât sway. And when you look up at the sky, in between the azure horizon is a streak of the black galaxy.  Itâs as if Foreverland itself is starting to crack.  Panic overcomes you.  âJin! Jin!â  You run, avoiding the split of the ground, sprinting across the gray meadow and towards Jinâs treehouse on the edge of the forest. You call his name at the top of your lungs, alarmed and frightened at whatâs happening. But the figure you see in the distance isnât him.  Itâs Jungkook and youâre relieved to find someone in reach.  âW-Whatâs going on?â you pant, catching your breath and slowing down. âJungkook?â  The boyâs frowning, lips lopsided, eyes diverted from you.  Heâs not panicking â he knows something.  âIâmâŠ..Iâm not allowed to tell you.â  âWhat? What is it?!â  He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, scratching the back of his neck, fidgeting on spot. He doesnât utter a single word and anger swells inside of you. âJungkook!â  The boy groans loudly and leans over to take your hand. âAs long as you promise not to tell. Iâm only doing this because youâre so special, okay?â Jungkook starts walking frantically towards the treehouse and you struggle to catch up to him.  âW-Where are you taking me?â  âYouâll see.â  The both of you climb the stairs of the treehouse and enter. Youâve come here enough times, glanced out the window, laid on the wooden framed bed, sat at the oak table, admired the strung lights and cozy atmosphere. But Jungkook comes to the bookcase on the back wall and pulls out the spine of a blue book.  You step back in surprise when it trembles and starts descending into the floor, revealing a concealed area. In moments, the top of the bookcase is snug against the floorboards like two seams never even there.  Jungkook looks back at you and you follow after him.  Itâs a darkened space that consists of a downwards spiraling staircase and you begin to descend down. You figure that youâre inside the tree and that alone amazes you.  Jungkook materializes a lantern in hand to give luminescence and the two of you come to a wooden door at the bottom of the staircase. He hangs back and looks at you. âOpen it.â  Your hand wraps around the golden knob and you push it open.  Wind sweeps through your hair, making you shut your eyes. But once it subsides and you look again, youâre met with a hidden room of secrets â a small space with towering piles of briefcases on desks and scattered across the floor. Thereâs metal filing cabinets, picture frames, books, soaring stacks of papers. It clutters the room, giving off a suffocating feeling.  You step in slowly. âWhat...is all this?â  âItâs where Jin stores away his subconscious,â Jungkook murmurs and you pick up a photo frame of Jin tensely standing next to what you suppose is his father â a stern-looking man whoâs similar to his son but with more wrinkles. Theyâre both expressionless in the fuzzy photograph. âHe comes from a long line of salesmen. His dad was a salesman and so was his grandfather and his great-grandfather.â  You set the picture down and look upon the heaps of briefcases, almost scared theyâll topple over you and smother you to death.  âIf Jin talks about his reality, his creations will shatter, so he stowed everything away,â Jungkook says and you turn around to look at him. âYou still have a connection to reality, so it doesnât affect you as much, but the longer you stay here, the more you have to detach yourself from the real world.â  âHow do you know all this? How...do you know Jinâs secrets?â  The boy smiles gingerly. âIâm not just Jinâs imaginary friend or best friend, Y/N. Iâm his voice of reason and self-awareness. He stowed those parts away too, just in me, so he wouldnât have to feel so sad all the time. You could say Iâm the adult in him. Or at least, I have all the adult parts of him.â  âThe adult parts of him?â  Jungkook nods. âForeverland is a place for kids who donât want to grow up. It grants magic so people can escape to it, but you can only stay if you retain your innocence. Or if you donât regret it and choose to leave. Kids always end up growing up and choosing to leave, and Jin recognized that. So he decided to put away any part of himself that would ever grow to regret it.â  You wonder how many children came and went. How many stepped in Foreverland, spent their time here and chose to leave in the end in spite of everything he did to get them to stay. You wonder how many times Jin was left alone. Abandoned.  You wonder if thatâs why he begged you to stay with him forever.  Your voice is a cracked whisperâ âHow long has he been in Foreverland for?â  âTime works differently in Foreverland, so Iâm not sure how much it is in the real world.â Jungkook is as solemn as you are. âHeâs probably been gone for a lot less. But he came here when he was your age and heâs been here for twenty eight years. Five of which he spent without anyone outside.â  Youâre stunned, made speechless, trying to fathom that length of time.  âTwenty eight years?â More importantly, you donât know why you feel so heartbroken. âWhat has he been doing in that time?â  âHeâs been looking for a partner to stay in Foreverland with him for...forever.â Jungkook musters another smile and he shrugs with melancholy faded in his doe eyes. âThe dream world Seokjin built is lonely by himself and Iâm just an imaginary friend. Iâm the only other person who can take a human shape. You canât create humans in Foreverland â I was just already in his mind when he arrived here, so it worked.â  Itâs a lot to understand, to wrap your mind around. All the secrets of this magical place are being spilled into your lap and youâre not sure what to do. All youâre certain about is that Jinâs stored away parts of himself, that heâs been deserted over and over again, and that heâs been yearning for someone permanent.  Heâs been suffering.  âY/N?â  âThen why is Foreverland breaking apart?â you quickly ask. âIs it because his subconscious is leaking back into him? Is it because of this room?!â  Jungkook smiles softly. âItâs because Seokjinâs falling in love with you.â  A beat. A pause.  Your heart swells up to the bottom of your throat and it aches.  âThatâs whatâs distorting his reality and everything heâs built in Foreverland. Falling in love means abandoning innocence since children canât fall in love the same way adults can,â Jungkook murmurs. âItâs been happening for a while, Y/N. You just havenât noticed. The flowers and leaves withering, the sky losing its colour, the breeze stopping, the sun becoming less brightâŠâ  Jinâs falling in love with you?  He loves you?  You donât know why that discovery has you so joyful and sorrowful at the same time. His emotions are reaching out for the part of him that he tucked away. Yet, at the same time, youâre the one ruining all of Seokjinâs dreams. Youâre destroying everything heâs ever created.  âThatâs not a bad thing,â Jungkook interrupts and your eyes meet his. âItâs not a bad thing to be in love, Y/N.â  âWhat...what will happen to you if Foreverland breaks?â  The corner of the boyâs mouth tugs timidly. âDonât worry. Foreverland will always be a place and Iâll always exist here, even if Seokjin leaves and forgets about me.â  Jungkook takes your hand and guides you away from the room. âI think you deserve to hear all of this since youâre becoming someone important to Jin too. But you should keep it a secret or else he might throw me overboard during the next pirate game.â  âJungkook.â  He turns around, simply smiling at you. The boy leads you up the stairs and seals the space with the bookcase again. You step out of the treehouse and knowing the secrets of Foreverland, everything looks different to you now.  Itâs less like a paradise of infinite dreams. More like a fragile flower about to wither.  Jungkook comes beside you and waves his hand. He repairs Seokjinâs Foreverland.  The ground stitches back together, the sky painted blue again, the flowers becoming vibrant. But you know itâs just a temporary fix. Underlying the polished layer are cracks.  //  Itâs never the same again. Tea parties, dragon rides, adventures and explorations of Foreverland â Seokjin doesnât once notice the way the colour in his flowers are losing their hue or the way the branches of his treehouse are withering, losing leaves like itâs the autumn season.  Your naivetĂ© has been casted away.  You canât ignore it once youâve seen it, canât revert the enlightenment, and you canât stay with him.  Not when itâs ruining the world heâs made. Not when he has no choice in the matter. Not when heâs not even aware that this is happening.  âJin.â  He shifts to you.  The pair of you are sitting on the branch of the tallest tree in Foreverland again, reminiscent of the first time you came here. You climbed while he flew, and together, the both of you look out at the sun, sitting next to one another. And you savour this moment, knowing itâs the last.  Your breath is heavy in your lungs. âIâve decided to go back.â  âGo back to where?â  âHome.â  âThe castle?â  âNo.â You canât look at him. Your voice drops down to a quiet murmur, âHome where my family is.âŠ..where my parents are. Home as in where you took me away from.â  Silence.  It threads through the spaces between your bodies that seems to be growing as the seconds pass. The weight of tension lies on your shoulders and a lump forms at the bottom of your throat, clogging the overwhelming emotions bubbling in the pit of your stomach.  You finally gather the courage to look at him and he utters a single wordâ  âWhen?â  âA-As soon as possible.â  âWhy?â  You muster a small smile. âIt looks like I canât leave them behind after all. Itâs...not your fault, Jin.â  For the first time and for one last moment, you reach out. Both you and Seokjin are looking forward towards the sky, but your hand hesitantly slips on top of his. A beat later, he turns your palm to lace his fingers through yours, squeezing your hand tightly.  âDo you really have to?â he asks.  âI do.â  âWhen will you be back?â  âI donât think I will come back.â You swallow hard, eyes stinging painfully. âThis is goodbye forever.â  Suddenly, Seokjin lets go of your hand and he launches himself forward, flying away. You stand up from the branch, stunned by his cold reaction. âWait!â you scream after him. You donât want this to be the last moment. You donât want it to end like this. âTake me back! Jinâ!â  In the midst of your panic, your foot slips. You lose balance and teeter backwards. Itâs too late. A shriek tears from your throat as you fall. Stomach dropping. Eyes shut tight. But before you can conjure something up to save yourself or cushion the landing, the blow is softened by warm arms.  Your lids flutter open to find that Jinâs caught you. Heâs carrying you with one arm behind your knees and the other around your back. You loop your arms around his neck, gasping for air and he swoops to the ground.  Jin sets you down on the soft grass. âWeâll leave tonight.â  His turquoise, translucent wings rapidly beat and he takes flight again. You watch his backside fade into the golden sunset until itâs a black silhouette too difficult to look at. And you know thereâs not much of an hour left.  //  Never once had you dreaded when night came to Foreverland.  You always looked forward to the starry horizon, watching the constellations move overhead and laid in the grass with your close friends by your side. You liked to count the specks of glitter, admire the shine of the moon, allow the breeze to caress your cheeks. Yet, it feels bittersweet tonight.  Youâre not sure if itâs because you yearn to stay in Foreverland. Or if itâs because youâre afraid of leaving the people behind.  The red dragon curls up to your frame and you smile while running your hand down her scaly muzzle. She whimpers, cuddling up to your touch. âIâll miss you a lot, but youâll be a good girl, right, Lady?â  She grunts and the sound of crunching grass beneath feet has you whirling around. Jungkook approaches with his arms behind his back and your smile widens. âSo youâre going?â  âUh-huh. Get in here, Kook.â You come over, opening your arms to hug him.  Jungkook squeezes you back and he mumbles in your ear, âAre you sure this is the right decision?â  âNo.â You part from him, taking a good look at the boy who kidnapped you for a game, who led expeditions and adventures through Foreverland, who let you know the secrets of this magical place. âI wish I could be sure when I make a choice.â  The corner of Jungkookâs mouth curls. âEven adults are never sure.â  That alone comforts you, resonating inside your mind.  Seokjin arrives at that moment, flying towards you and landing smoothly. He doesnât look you in the eye. âItâs time to leave.â  You nod and he carries you the same way he brought you to Foreverland, his arm placed around the back of your knees and the other behind your back while yours are looped around his neck. He lifts you up like you donât weigh a feather and he soars into the sky.  You look down to see Jungkook waving with a boyish grin, Lady roaring out. You watch how your castle, the last traces of your time spent on the island, becomes a mere dot in the distance. The sandy beaches, open meadows, Seokjinâs treehouse, forest and mountains, they fade into the clouds. You blink back the tears that have accumulated, that threaten on your lash line and you look ahead to allow them to flow without Jin being able to see.  The two of you soar beyond the wispy clouds and blue oceans until the silver moon is high over the horizon. The wind brushes through your hair and you allow yourself to lean onto Seokjinâs chest, savouring the warmth of his embrace.  As soothing as it is, you focus on the view to subside your sobs. And itâs still a breathtaking sight, even when your vision is hazy by tears. Eventually, the pair of you fly over a familiar city, watching the way the lights of the buildings glimmer into a mosaic of colours.  Your house comes into sight.  Jin didnât even need reminders of the direction, as if he memorized the house you came from.  âYou can set me down in front of the house,â you mumble, hoping he canât hear how clogged your voice is from silently crying the entire way.  He nods and descends swiftly. Jin sets you down on the grass and you hold onto him, hoping he wonât leave so soon, hoping you can have another moment. But you know this is goodbye.  This is it.  You turn to face him.  Heâs the first one to say something. âAre you sure?â  You nod. âIâm sorryââ  âYou shouldnât be.â He slips your grip off of him and you flinch, hurt. But then he takes your hands in his and your eyes meet. âI wonât force anyone to stay with me if they donât want to.â  No. Itâs not like that! Yet the declaration lays on your tongue, threatening to spill, but never coming out. He has it wrong. Itâs not like you donât want to stay. But if you told him that, in the last seconds of your final farewell, what would he say? What would he ask you?  âIâŠ.I loved every second I spent with you, Jin! Iââ  The lights inside the house suddenly flicker on and you whirl around, wondering if they woke up from your loud voices. Youâre running out of time.  âGo inside,â Jin says gently with a wistful smile.  He lets go of you. About to take off.  But before the time runs out completely, before midnight has struck, you rush forward and plant a kiss on his cheek. Itâs soft. Chaste. Your lips press against his rosy skin, hesitant and timid.  Jinâs stunned, eyes as big as saucer and he looks at you.  You muster a smile, trying your best not to cry and leave that as his last memory of you.  âThank you.â  Before tears can spring from your eyes in the form of heavy April rain, you spin around and hurry to the door of your house. Your motherâs bad habit of leaving the door unlocked makes it easy to turn the knob and you step inside. But when temptation is at its highest, you peek over your shoulder.  But Jinâs already gone.  As quick as he came into your life.  âOh Heavens to Betsy! Oh my goodness!â The cry of your mother gives no room for you to grieve. She stumbles down the stairs, unable to believe her eyes. âHarold! Y/Nâs come home!â  Your mother scurries and even though sheâs upset, she immediately embraces you with a fervour that has you shifting back. You can feel her entire frame shaking and you hug her back, pressing your face to her shoulder to dispel away the tears collecting in your eyes.  Your father comes at the commotion, slippers clunking on his feet down the stairs. Once you come into sight, heâs shocked frozen in his spot. âY/N?â  Your mother lets go and you smile at your father. âIâm home.â  âWhere did you go?â  âI thought you did something foolish,â your mother gripes. âYou were gone for three days! I wanted to go down to the station but your dad decided to wait! I couldnât sleep a wink at allââ  âWait. I was gone for three days?â Youâre taken aback. You were in Foreverland for three whole months. But you suppose Jungkook really wasnât lying when he told you time works differently there. âI-Iâm sorry. I was staying with a friend farther away. I shouldâve said something before I left. IâmâŠ.sorry.â  âNo.â Your dad shakes his head. âIâm sorry.â  In your entire life, your fatherâs never apologized to you. Heâs not the kind to, always disciplining with a firm mindset, never to give any leeway. So youâre even more astounded.  âWhat for?â  âIâm sorry for forcing you to do things that you didnât want to do. I was just worried. But I wonât push you to marry Namjoon if thatâs not what you want.â  âHeâs been doing a lot of thinking lately, sweetheart.â Your mother smiles, coming to his side.  You shake your head. âNo, I understand. Iâm justâŠ..Iâm just really happy to be home.â  Your momâs brows furrow. âThen why are you crying, Y/N?â  You donât realize you are until she says it. Until your hand lifts and youâre wiping at your wet cheeks. Then the sobs surge and you cry harder, choked whimpers spilling from your aching chest, your throat constricting your emotions. Your mom quickly comes to embrace you and you lean into her while looking past your hazy vision, out the kitchen window, to the starry sky above.
Memories of Foreverland begin to fade against your will as time goes on.  You wonder if it has anything to do with what Jungkook told you and how your connection to the place is weak. But you begin to forget the scent of the flower meadow, the taste of the special earl grey on your palate, the heat of the sun beating on your cheeks.  Then, itâs the feeling of loneliness when you climb the tree in the field to read while your mom looks on from the kitchen window. Sitting on the branch and gazing out at the view, you wonder why it feels so lonely when youâre used to doing it by yourself.  A haunting nostalgia lingers uncomfortably as well. Most often when you see kids doing play pretend on the streets, when you listen to their bubbling laughter, soak in their carefree nature.  After that, you begin to forget doe eyes, soft yet scaly texture against your hands, and dark hair. Twinkling irises. A mischievous smile. Brown eyes that resembled the warmth of the sun to you.  A rotten sense of discomfort overcomes your very being.  Like there was something you shouldâve never forgotten. Like youâre missing something, or rather, someone. Itâs a crazed desperation of yearning that aches your chest. And you canât shake that pain off.  All you know is that you often wake up in the middle of the night with a tear-stained pillow and thereâs the word Foreverland written on a page at your desk that you have no idea what it means, even when you know itâs your writing.  You slip inside the house quietly, dress ruined from tree climbing. You wonder if youâll be scoldedâ  â...just looks so sad these days.â Instead, you overhear your motherâs voice coming from the kitchen. âHeavens, ever since she came back from her trip a week ago.â  âDid she ever say who she visited? Maybe that has something to do with it.â  âNo, she hasnât said a single word. Maybe she should go see a doctor, Harold. Our little girlâs not speaking much either and itâs startinâ to worry me. Sheâs not usually like thisâŠâ  You step into the pastel pink kitchen. They straighten their posture and seal their lips as if to pretend you werenât the topic of discussion a moment ago and you muster a smile.  âAfternoon.â You go to pour a cup of the orange juice from the pitcher and pause. âActually, I was just thinking about something.â  Your mother places down the kitchen towel, anticipation clear in her face. âWhat is it, dear?â  âWellâŠâ You turn around, leaning against the counter. âI was thinking about everything, what I want to do from now on, how Irene and Sarah are, all my friends and all that, and I think itâs time for me to get married.â  Theyâre shocked.  Your motherâs mouth draws open while your father promptly puts down his newspaper, folding it back up.  âThis...this is great news, honey!â A grin draws on your motherâs features and she comes to hug you. Youâre nearly squeezed to death. âI canât believe youâve finally come around and changed your mind!â  But your father seems less enthused. âAre you sure?â  You nod. âSure as Iâll ever be.â  Youâre fairly certain the only way to shake off this painful discomfort is by moving on. Itâs not like you want to worry your parents anymore either. Like they said, itâs time to be an adult.  And just like that, youâre thrusted forward quicker than you can imagine.  The next time you meet with Namjoon, he gets down on one knee and presents his grandmotherâs gawky heirloom to you in a box. He ends up sliding it on your ring finger before you even get a chance to respond properly.  âHow do you feel in this dress?â your mother asks.  One blink later, youâre placed in front of a mirror, drowning in a white, wedding dress.  The skirt is overwhelming your frame and itâs oddly tight around your midsection, making it hard to breathe. Not to mention, the sleeves are cut off awkwardly, not quite at your wrist or at your elbow. The lace sweetheart neckline is scratchy at your skin too, making you itch at it.  Itâs ugly.  âItâs beautiful,â Irene squeals.  Sarah nods her head, pulling another tissue out to dab at her eyes. âYou look gorgeous, Y/N. I think this is the one.â  You muster a smile.  Even if you go this far, for some reason, you donât think youâll ever forget about those brown eyes.
In the real world, itâs been days. In Foreverland, itâs been months.  Seokjin sits by himself in the meadow, downcast head and reddened eyes.  Foreverland is falling apart around him. The ground continues to splinter with each moment that passes, deepening the trenches that echo silence. The sky has split, no longer azure during the day or filled with stars during the night. Itâs become blackened and every so often, pinpricks of light rain down and hit the land as if the stars themselves are falling.  There isnât a breeze. The ocean does not move. The trees do not sway.  What hasnât withered has lost their colour â flowers, petals, leaves monochrome like newspaper print. Jinâs own wings flicker between being tangible and a hallucination.  Itâs as if Foreverland itself is crumbling and Jin makes no effort to save it.  Whatâs the point?  In the meanwhile, Jungkook sighs to himself, looking onward. He doesnât think you ever expected that Seokjin would still be very much in love with you even after youâve left and removed yourself from this place.  Jungkook approaches his best friend and sits himself down. âWhatâs wrong?â  Jin picks at the grass. âNothing.â  The former holds back a snort, staring out at the horizon. âYou know I always know how you feel, right?â  âItâs just Y/N,â Jin discloses in a half-hearted mumble. âIt feels empty now that sheâs gone.â  âA lot of people have left before.â  âIt feels different this time.â  âYou love her,â Jungkook says in a quiet yet firm voice. It isnât a question, answer, or suggestion.  Itâs factual.  Their eyes meet. Itâs silent.  Seokjinâs Foreverland is collapsing, breaking apart at the seams â the treehouse, the flowers, the sky shattering into a darker, less star-full horizon. The proof is all around them and one that cannot be ignored any longer. It screams to be acknowledged, aches to be heard.  The corners of Jungkookâs mouth curl. âGo where you need to be, Seokjin. Itâs a better place for newer dreams that you can fulfill. This isnât where you should be anymore.â  âWhat about you?â  Jungkookâs boyish smile turns into a grin. âIâll always be here. Plus, Iâm right here too.â He pokes Jinâs chest, right where his heart should be and the latter scoffs with a soft smile. âI wonât miss you too much. Weâve already been together for so long.â  Jin exhales in exasperation and Jungkook leans back, putting more weight into his hands behind him. âForeverland is a place for visitors. Itâs not a place to make a home.â  âThen whereâs home?â  Jungkook looks at the sky. âWith the people you love most.â
The lace is itchy.  For some reason, scratching doesnât seem to alleviate the itch, even when youâve scratched enough to make your skin raw and your fingernails hurt. The dress is really white too. To the point where itâs blinding to your own eyes. Youâre starting to think you shouldâve gone for the other dress with the feathers even though it was fifteen pounds heavy.  Your mother shrieks and it nearly startles you to death. âOh my goodness! My daughterâs never looked more beautiful! Now hurry along before weâre late!â  You nod, mustering a smile.  A part of you wonders if this is the right choice, but you remember someone told you that even adults are never sure of their own choices. You wonder who told you thaâ  âAre you alright?â your dad interrupts your train of thought.  âOf course, I am.â You nod to reassure him and turn away before his perceptiveness can flourish the doubt thatâs long overcome the discomfort that still lingers. You take his arm and inhale a deep breath to brace yourself.  The grand, wooden doors of the church hall open.  It parts and youâre allowed a peek inside. The hundred people seated on the brown benches turn around with smiles. The organ deafeningly plays the beginning discordant chords of the bridal march before it crescendos melodically and echos down into your eardrums. The bridesmaids and groomsmen grip their bouquet of flowers and begin filing down the aisle.  Oh my god. You can do this. You can do thâ  âYou can always walk away from this.â Your dadâs quiet voice breaks your inner mantra and your eyes find his wrinkled ones. He looks concerned, brows furrowed, lips lopsided and reading the look on your face. âIâm on your side until the end, sweetheart.â  The corner of your mouth pulls into a soft smile. âThanks, dad.â  Itâs your turn. The doors are wide open. The music beckons you to meet your destiny.  And you step inside the church hall. Namjoon is on the other end of the aisle, prim and proper in his traditional suit and bow tie, wearing an amiable smile that could only belong to a businessman. You try to match said expression, but itâs hard to feel your cheeks.  Everyoneâs eyes are on you, some dabbing their cheeks with tissue. Irene and Sarah are on the side in their brown bridesmaid dresses, swooning at the sight. And your dad lets go all too soon.  Before youâve even realized, youâve made it to the end and heâs passed you to Namjoon, taking his place beside your already sobbing mother in the front rows. The music tapers off as well.  âWelcome, family, friends and loved ones. We gather here today to witness and celebrate the union of Namjoon and Y/N in marriage.â  Namjoonâs holding your gloved hands, his smile picture perfect. You face one another as the officiant drones on.  âMarriage is a joyous occasion. It is the promise between two people who love each other, and who trust in that love. It is truth, honesty, and hardships shouldered among a pairââ  Itâs hard to focus when all you can think about is how itchy your lace dress is. And itâs everywhere. From the neckline to your armpits to where the sleeves end. Itâs driving you crazy and you wish you could rip your hands away from Namjoonâs to scratch.  ââthat are prepared to begin their new life together. Marriage is the most sacred unity in humanityââ  Christ. This is so boring. You canât wait till this is over and done with. If JÍ ÒÌÍÍiÍąÍnÌ·ÍÍąÍÌ” was here, he wouldâve snapped his fingers and put the almost senile, croaking officiant into a pirate costume.  You smile to yourself at the idea, muffling a quiet snicker.  But then you freeze.  Wait. Whoâs .ÍÌÒÌ·Ì.Í Í ÍĄ?  ââand should not be entered into lightly, but rather, reverently, lovingly, solemnly. Thus, if anyone has just cause to object to the forming of this union, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.â  Suddenly, the doors bang open.  The doors crash against the church walls, startling you to death and nearly causing you to stumble back onto your butt and scream. Everyone instantly whips their head over with widened eyes.  A stranger interrupts, shouting from the pit of his stomach, âWait!â  Thereâs a man, perhaps your age or a year or two older, standing at the end of the hall. Dark hair pushed to the side, revealing his forehead. Irises twinkling. And past the crowd, the shocked expressions, the scandalized whispers, the stranger looks right at you.  Namjoon immediately steps forward, covering your sights on the stranger. âWho are you?!â he bellows.  But you place your hand on Namjoonâs shoulder and he stops, looking back at you. You stagger forward with a frown, steps slow down the aisle. Your parents call for you, but you donât hear them. Not when youâre so transfixed on this man. Thereâs something strangelyâŠ..familiar.  A tap on your shoulder. A boy outside your window.
    âDonât you want to escape from here? Go on an adventure? Come on!âÂ
An island. Faraway. With a castle and a treehouse. AâŠ.flower field. A dragon. A doe-eyed companion.
    âThereâs magic all around us.â
A beanstalk â an underwater kingdom â a magical ball.
    âStay with me.â
The man gazes at you and you stare back at him, looking into his brown eyes that somehow resembles the warmth of the sun to you. Like a cup of coffee your dad would brew on cold mornings. Theyâre deep and comforting, and a murmur befalls your trembling lips, âSeokjin?â
Before your brain can catch up, youâre sprinting towards him. Â Seokjin grins, plump lips pulled into a mischievous smile, cheeks puffed out like loaves of bread. Â You launch yourself at him. Your arms open and your bodies collide against each other. He stumbles back with a laugh and embraces you tightly in his arms. You hug his broad shoulders, eyes fluttering closed, savouring the moment. Â He doesnât have his sparkly red vest, his golden pants, the blue hat with the green feather. Jin doesnât have his wing either. Thereâs nothing remotely magical about him, not when heâs just in a plain, white dress shirt tucked into black trousers. But him being here is already the most magical thing thatâs happened to you. Â âI-I canât believe itâs you. What are you doing here?â Â âI had to come see you,â he murmurs. âI went to your house but no one was there. I heard from the neighbour you were getting married today.â Â You pull apart from him, inches away from his face. âNo. I mean what are you doing here, Jin?â Â He doesnât hesitate. There isnât uncertainty in his expression. No moment to waver. Â Heâs as certain as the stars are real and answers within a beatâ Â âI love you.â Â A fact you had known, that creeped up on you and made you feel bittersweet. But something you thought you would never have the chance to hear from his own lips. Â You search his expression. âW-What about Foreverland?â Â âIt doesnât matter where I am. I just want to be with you.â Â Youâre crying. You can feel the tears streaking down your cheeks and for once, itâs not from tender longing or a nostalgic sadness. A smile tugs on your lips and you pull him closer. Â âWhat took you so long?â Â Seokjin smiles against you. âI needed to get my things in order, but Iâm here now and Iâll stay with you if youâll take me.â Â âYes. Of course, I will, silly.â Â You heartbeat pitter patters fervently in your chest and he leans down, brushing his soft lips against yours in a sweet kiss. Your arms come to loop around his neck while his palms cradle your waist. The warmth of Jinâs skin heats your cheeks and your lashes flutter shut while his eyes open just a little to watch you. He kisses you long enough that he can inhale your breath and you feel his smile against your own. Â Your heart soars. Everything you had longed for is right here. And it feels like magic.Â
[Epilogue]  Growing up and becoming an adult doesnât mean needing to abandon fun â and your life with Seokjin proves it.  The pair of you go on plenty of adventures and explorations, more than your parents would like. Youâre always packing your bags to discover something new. And when you visit, your parents are adamant that sometimes it feels like there are two children at the dinner table.  But you know theyâve never been happier to see how overjoyed you are and what a great fit Seokjin is. They assume heâs someone you met when you disappeared and while thatâs technically true, you donât add more to the story. They donât question it either.  Youâre sure your parents are a lot more worried when they see you teaching Jin how to climb the enormous tree out by the field.  The whole church fiasco ends up as a scandal. Itâs the talk of the neighbourhood for months on end. Itâs not like you particularly mind â although, you still get glares from Namjoon and his family when you run into them. Youâre sure he doesnât want to hear any more apologies from you, but youâre also certain that this experience will make him less boring as a person.  Your nose twitches.  You sniff the air and before it even registers, you groan.  âJin! Why is there something burning?!â  You come into the kitchen and call him again, but silence answers. With a sigh, you check the oven and take out the cake thatâs practically burnt to ash and push it onto the counter. The smoke is dispersed after you waft the air.  Youâre already busy picking up after school children as a teacher, you donât really need to pick up after your husband too when you get home.  You look out the door and step onto the porch. From a distance, you can see him and a hopeless smile slips onto your visage.  You cross the field, the meadow soft beneath your feet, wind whisking through your hair. The golden sun is sinking over the horizon, turning the sky into shades of tangerine and your figure a black silhouette against the light.  Seokjinâs seated beneath the canopy of the tree. The two covers of the storybook spread over his thighs, page corner crisp against his fingertips. The colours seem to jump out â raspberry, periwinkle and kelly vibrant against the white. He doesnât notice you approaching, completely enthralled by the adventurous storyline.  While you were gone for three days, Seokjin was gone for two years. It was a mess to sort out with his family too, his father even stricter than yours and angered while his mother was devastated and resentful that her son had chosen to leave without a single word. It was hard for him to adjust to the real world as well. It took time. But youâd like to think Jin made it out okay.  âYou left the cake burning in the oven.â  His attention is brought back and he looks up, smiling at you. âSorry.â  Much to your dismay, Jin pulls you down and plants an affectionate kiss on your cheek.  You scoff lightly and unknowingly pout while your husband grins, already aware heâs gotten away with it.  You plop down next to him and lean your head to lay on his shoulder, staring at the pages of his storybook. âWhat are you doing?â  âIâm thinking of writing another storybook,â Jin hums. âA sequel to Jungkookâs Adventures. What do you think if I called it Foreverland?â  âI think itâll be wonderful.â  The two of you share tender smiles, gazing at one another while the tree above you sways, leaves rustling to the warm breeze.  You donât need magic to live in your dreams forever.
#bts fanfic#bts scenario#jin fanfic#jin fluff#seokjin fanfic#jin scenario#seokjin fluff#bts peter pan!AU#hope you guys enjoy this one!#actually it's been a long time since I've written a story I'm THIS satisfied with tbh#also fun fact - while not directly mentioned this takes place in 1954!
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Could i possible request a jj imagine from that one scene where they trap the girls on the boat, and reader gets left with them, reader is dating jj, but they have really bad anxiety so she is upset with him when they go to pick the m up from the boat
Left Behind - JJ Maybank
Words: 1.6k+
Type: Angst & Fluff
Warnings: English is not my first language, sorry for any typos. Fear of the sea/being left in a boat.
A/N: Gifâs not mine :)
Itâs been around 6 hours since JJ, John B and Pope left you, Sarah and Kie alone in a boat with no way back home.
You had agreed to making Sarah and Kie have a conversation and sort out their issues, but the idea of you being the one that has to be with them just to make sure they donât kill each other... Now thatâs some bullshit, but it was decided. Without you knowing a word of it.
And just to make matters worse, you have anxiety problems. Everyone knows this, especially your boyfriend, JJ.
And we all know that anxiety has the power to make a small issue or fear into a whole trauma-like experience.
But the motherfucker didnât even think twice in leaving you in the boat.
It was just like you all had planned, everyone steps into the boat and then runs out but you were utterly pissed when noticing that they were escaping without even looking back at you.
Oh and the way they all laughed... Anger boiled your blood.
You are definitely not okay with any of this.
Kie and Sarah have been talking on one side of the boat since you told them to, and you are sitting in the other side, leaving them to have their privacy.
And now, your mind is at 500 miles an hour, since anxiety has gotten a way with it - thinking of all the possible horrible endings this evening could have.
You couldnât swim back to the island, you couldnât row this kind of boat back home, and also canât call for help, if anything bad happens.
This is just a disaster waiting to occur. And your mind is hating it. Your hands are slightly sweaty, heart is pumping rapidly, breathing seems difficult and seeing the skies become dark is just making everything worse.
Youâre not a boat kind of person. You like the idea of being in one but not for too long.
And these 6 hours... are long enough for anyone to pull up next to this boat and try to steal something, kidnap you or even, I donât you, something worse.
Outer banks is safe, yes, but anybody who has seen any crime documentaries knows that even the safest towns in the world have god damn someone that fucks it all up. It can even be an outsider.
But that, in a strange way, is not what is worrying you the most.
And anybody with anxiety will understand when you say that you donât exactly know whatâs bothering you but it god damn is fucking you up inside.
You just have to find out now to try to fix it.
âYou okay?â Sarah asks, making you look away from the water and look up at her.
âYeah, I was just thinking about what else I could be doing if it werenât for this situationâ You comment in a low tone as she takes a seat next to you. âHave you and Kie talked it all through?â
âYeah, I guess weâre friends againâ
You smile a bit at her and she leans her head on your shoulder.
âHow long do you think weâre going to be in here for?â She asks in a whisper and you sigh, tears filling your eyes, but you blink them away.
âFor a few more hoursâ
(...)
Itâs been some hours, and the girls have noticed that something is off about you ever since Kie took a seat next to you, just like Sarah. And they havenât left your side ever since.
You had told them that it was just your anxiety and they tried their best to make you feel better.
Sarah tried to play a game and Kie tried to tell a story, anything to distract your mind.
It had worked, in some way. But only for a few minutes.
You even cried a little when they asked you to tell them whatâs wrong. Mostly out of frustration, you did not mean to cry.
As you shared your frustrations with the girls and tears ended up rolling down your face, they both hugged you close to them, trying to comfort you not only with their affection but with their words as well, as they said: âwe got youâ and âwe wonât ever let anything happen to youâ.
As the three of you stared into the dark sky, looking at the stars, you hear a motor of a boat.
âTheyâre hereâ Sarah whispers to you and Kie.
The sound of the motor of the boat gets closer and pure anger just boiled in your veins. Mainly towards JJ over any other of the guys.
You three get up from the front of the boat and walk over to the John Bâs boat, now floating right next to yours, at the back.
âHow did it go?â Pope asks but none of you answers.
Sarah steps in the boat with John Bâs help and when he did the same thing to you, JJ also tried to help, which you just ignored.
He leaves his hand in the air as you took John Bâs hand for help and then quickly taking a seat next to Sarah, who already sat down comfortably in the smaller boat.
As Kiara goes sit next to Pope, JJ sits down with you.
âSo, how did it go?â John B repeats Popeâs words and Sarah looks up from her hands to him.
âAmazingâ She answers sarcastically.
You ignore their conversation as John B starts taking all of you back to the island and you finally feel your body starting to relax.
âHey. You okay?â JJ asks you and you look at him with a serious expression, not even saying a word. âIâll take that as a ânoââ
You look away from him while rolling your eyes and stare into the water, in silence. And that lasted the whole way back to JBâs house.
You all got up in your feet and started to get off the boat. You, Kie and Sarah almost kissed the ground as your feet felt the dirt under your shoes.
As everyone decides to stay under the tree and watch the sky change colors, you decide to go in JBâs house and sit at the porch with a glass of water - as any other normal human being would do.
âCan we talk?â JJ asks from behind you as you grab a glass cup from the cabinet of the kitchen.
âDepends on what you want to sayâ
âYouâre mad at me-â
âNo shitâ You interrupt while filling the cup with water.
âIs it because we left you in the boat with them?â
âWhat do you think?â You ask with the driest of tones.
âWe didnât mean to make you upset, we just thought it was fu-â
âYou know that Iâm scared of the water, and you still fucking left me there, JJ. That. Is. Not. Funnyâ
âI honestly didnât know you were that scaredâ
âWell, you couldâve at least taken a guessâ You spit the words and he looks at you with a softer expression now.
You two stay silent for a few seconds and donât try to meet each otherâs gaze. JJ doesnât really know what to say to you.Â
He wants to make things right, but he just doesnât know how.
He takes a few steps forward to get closer to you and you look up from the floor at him.
âIâm sorryâ He starts, âI really didnât know you were that scared of water. Really. If I knew, I would never let the guys even think of doing something close to thatâ
You stay silent.
âI donât know what I can do to make you forgive me. What I did was fucked up and I didnât even acknowledge it until nowâÂ
Kieâs laughter from outside fills the air but it doesnât stop the boy standing next to you.
âWill you ever forgive me?â
Well that took a dramatic turn, You thought.
You look back at him with a serious expression and he almost flinches at the sight of it.
âOf course Iâm going to forgive you, ass hatâ You say and relief reaches his face, âJust not nowâ
âWhat can I do to make you forgive me faster?â
You start to think for a second and JJ starts naming actions.
âWhat about cleaning your room? Not that Iâm saying that itâs dirty, I just can do that for you, you know? And, taking you out for ice cream? Maybe bake you a cake?â
âJJ, you donât know how to bakeâ
âI can learn. Iâm sure that thereâs millions of videos on easy cake recipesâ
You look away as you fight a smile over JJâs desperation and that slightly relaxes the boy, who is internally freaking the heck out.
âYou have a lot of baking to doâ You say and a huge smile grows on the blonde boy as he wraps his arms around you as a celebration. âLike, a lotâ
JJ lets you go and looks down at you.
âI donât care, Iâll work hard enoughâ He says, âWhat do you want? A cake with like 5 layers? Cupcakes with hearts made out of that pink shit? Maybe, cinnamon rolls?â
You laugh at his ideas and choice of words and JJ canât help but smile as well.
âIâm not kidding, you might need to start listing what you want now. Iâm a hard worker but I donât have the time-stopping power so I can work 7 hours in 1âł He says with his smile as you continue to laugh, âPick pick woman, I need to workâ
- - - - - - -
đžâšSorry, but Iâm not writing in this account anymore. Go check out my new one @twinklelilstarkey âšđž
#jj x reader#jj maybank imagines#jj outer banks#jj maybank#JJ Imagine#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank imagine#rudy pankow#rudy pankow x reader#outer banks netlfix#outer banks netflix#Outer Banks
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IX: aparecium; an incantation to always remember.
â you finally read all the other pages of his diary.
+pairing: miya atsumu x reader.
+genre: crossover(hq x hp); fluff; angst; frenemies to lovers.
+word count: 2.9k.
+warnings: FLUFF!! pls, if i donât put fluff, some of my moots would cry(*cough* ray).
+usual customers(taglist): @babyworld @renee1414 @anotherhydrangea @seita @tobiosnoelle @weebslxt @tsukkiwaifu16 @loveusandoor @kozumebri @sarawrz @crackheadsara @kyuudere @cultsax @supernovaa-a @akaashikeijisan @b3llo-there @sugasloverr @kagebunshiin @tetsurolls @velvetfireworks @kritiiiii @1wai@seijohlogyâ @sweetrosemilktea @bellesowl @ems1desâ @akaashi-todorki @sakuricâ @irishhbambâ @sweetsamusâ @cherriechurros @mxshimoo @bluebirdandcomrades @zukuroo @denki-core @sarahvvictoriaâ @littlevoxine
+authorâs notes: this is the last chapter(im def not sad) BUT i will be writing bonus parts!!
+navigation: previous, masterlist,.
You stand in front of your apartment, sighing as you close your eyes, making your way inside your bedroom and begin to pick up the cardboard boxes with the help of your wand, moving them outside into the living room for someone(who is quite late, yet again) to take to your new home.
You tie your hair up, fixing your overcoat a little as you sigh, making your way to the smallest box, placed in the corner of the room. Just by looking at the stamp on top of it, you smile.Â
The memories of your time at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry.Â
You carefully sit on your knees, your plaid skirt riding up just a smidge, as you open the carton in front of you.Â
To say that it was filled up completely was an understatement because right now, a few books and photographs fell out onto your lap, making you chuckle. You picked up the photographs, settling with your back against the wall and your legs stretching out, as you looked through them one by one.Â
The first oneâone of your graduation ceremony, standing next to Shimizu Kiyoko(the current owner of the most popular Quidditch shop in London) who was beaming vividly at the camera with you, holding up your wands as a gesture that you had finally done it. Something that seemed almost insurmountable when you first started school, and now? You all were content, happy with your lives.Â
The second photograph was one from the third year, your first time in Hogsmeade. You were in The Three Broomsticks, and a mustache of the froth from the butterbeer had formed atop your lips. Behind you, a certain fox pointed and laughed his guts out.Â
The next picture was from the Shrieking Shackâwhere all of your friends had ditched the second last day of school and spent the whole day drinking and reminiscing the past seven years of nostalgic happiness. A boy held your hand with the fondest look in his carob orbs, and you returned it.Â
You gingerly took the three photos, storing them in the photo album that had also fallen out of the box in the process of you opening it. Smiling, you took out some more mementos.Â
Your broomstick, the Nimbus 2001, sat at the bottom, but you excitedly removed it and placed it on the ground, saying, "Up!"
It almost made it to your hand but fell down upon grazing your fingertips. You pouted, blaming the number of years it had passed since you had played Quidditch. Peering into the box as you placed the broomstick aside, you found something even funnier.Â
Cheap, piss colored hair-dye that was almost ten-years-old.Â
You chuckled, looking at it playfully as you opened the top of the bottle. The disgusting odor that came from it made you grunt as you immediately placed the cap back on top, never desiring to touch that thing ever again. And once more, you placed the item in your hand to the side, looking into the box to find more things that reminded you of your happiest years.Â
You couldn't believe your eyes at what sat at the bottom of the carton.Â
An empty notebook with a soft leather cover, with a grey quill by its side, sitting there and ridiculing you.Â
You blinked twice, making sure what you were seeing was real. Hell, you even rubbed your eyes until you could see mindless patterns in the dark. You opened your eyes, the patterns making themselves sort of visible in plain sight, disappearing after a few milliseconds when you grabbed the brown book in front of you and whispered with your wand in hand, "Aparecium."
September 2, 20**.
I donât know what Iâm doing at this point. Itâs been 3 years since I started loving her. When I saw her walk into the train today, umm, yesterday cause itâs past 2 AM now⊠I felt so happy?? I mean, I know I tease her and all, sheâs quite amazing. Sheâs got the brains for it all and insults me back even when I say something stupid. I really dunno. 3 years and Iâve made 0 progress. I seriously need to re-think my decision about my love for this girl 'cause 'Samu says thereâs no chance she loves me back. Dunno if Iâll be able to stop my feelings, though. Iâve liked her since my second year. Damn me, for being such a lovesick puppy. And to think I colored my hair for her too. [Y/N] called it piss-colored. Out of all things, why the fuck would ya compare somebodyâs hair to piss? Thatâs utterly disgusting. I wonder where [L/N] gets these dumb ideas. Damn her, that slug. Anyways, I have class in a couple hours. G'night.Â
'Tsumu.Â
You immediately let out a hearty laugh, flipping to the next page when you remembered a certain encounter with the boy who wrote the diary. The day he told you he loved you, by the infamous Black Lake, he spoke of this particular page. He said that he addressed the nightly trips around Hogwarts, about how much he longs to be yours, about his happiness when he sees you, and your snarky comments that are just as, if not more, witty than his.Â
September 4, 20**
Today was the third day of school. Also my first trip around Hogwarts with [Y/N] under my invisibility cloak. We snuck into the kitchens and got ourselves steak pies and treacle tarts, and then went to the Astronomy Tower where we ate them while laughing about nothing in particular. I love these little trips. They make me all warm and fuzzy inside. Dunno how to put it into words, but I really like spending time with her alone. It makes me really really really happy. I wish that someday, maybe when I'm all grown up and play for a known Quidditch Team and she's a DADA professor, we are still like this. Going around to aimless places, eating food, and laughing about the old times(or anything really, I just want to be with her even when I'm older). And just like always, she doesn't fail to throw dumb comebacks at me. I can't help but chuckle at them, because sometimes they really are offensive. Well, looks like it's time to hit the hay now, so g'night.Â
'Tsumu.
You gasp as the page comes to an end, a hand on your mouth. He wasn't wrong when he said he wrote about you. You smile as a tear runs down your cheek as you flip to a random page this time, and you realize that it's written in his sixth year of Hogwarts.Â
December 23, 20**
I stayed back for Christmas break this year and my dorm is all empty. So is hers, because she says she didn't want to go back home at all until the summer. I feel bad for her gran, that woman must feel lonely.Â
You giggled at the line, grinning because you remember your grandma sending you a Howler, which yelled at you in the empty dorm-room for not coming home for the holidays. She said she missed you, and that your grandfather's health was deteriorating. She had also said that she knew why you didn't come back, and that it was okay, because she understood that you couldn't see another loved one go. The Howler ended on a sorrowful note, but everything eased back into its place because you remember the writer of the diary in your hands being there to comfort you when a dreaded letter came in after the holidays. You continued reading where you left off, wiping away the new wave of tears that had emerged from the memories.
Yesterday, me and [Y/N] went around the castle under the invisibility cloak I gave her. It was fun because I always get to see this little smile on her face that only shows up during these trips. We also went to the forbidden section of the library just because we wanted to look at a few spells that are probably illegal. I did accidentally kill a rat practicing the second unforgivable curse, and [Y/N] helped me hide all the evidence by feeding the dead rat to the Hippogriff she had found in the Forbidden Forest. I swear, if someone saw the way I did the spell and couldn't stop until [Y/N] threw Expelliarmus at me, they would throw me in the deepest pin in Azkaban and I'd probably never be able to see [Y/N] again. Anyway, I have to go back out for dinner now. G'night.
'Tsumu.
You, again, laughed at the man's childishness. You recollect distinctly how scared he was, that he had almost pissed his pants in the Courtyard that night. You had assured him that nothing would go wrong and that your lips were completely sealed, because he was your friend of course, so you had quickly formulated a plan to help him. And yet again, you flip to a new page, one from the fifth year this time.Â
July 15, 20**
 I hate this part every year. Ever since my third year, it sickens me to come back home for summer. I can't see her because she lives in Lambeth while I'm in Westminster with my posh family. It makes me a little angry sometimes that my family is well-known in the wizarding world because this means my summers are filled with whatever my parents want me to do. The train ride back home was definitely not quiet. It was so chaotic(mostly because of the constant bickering between me and [Y/N]) and Kita-san yelled at us at the end. That was the first time I've ever seen him get angry, so he was either really fed up or we were being too dumb. Anyway, I'm gonna miss Hogwarts a lot for the next month or so, because after that I get to see her again. Honestly? Can't wait for the sixth year. I hope she grows taller, because right now, she's quite the midget. I'll write her a letter or two, but I probably won't send all of them. G'night for now.Â
'Tsumu.
You continue reading it all. Page by page, parchment by parchment, word by word, letter by letter until you finally get to the last page. The one he wrote on the graduation day, where he says that he wants to marry you someday. But you don't get to read it just yet, because he walks into the room with his booming voice and boyish grin.
"[Y/N]! Sorry I'm late, sweetheart! I apparated back home as fast as I could 'cause Coach saw me slack off a lil-"
"So ya actually read it all, huh?" he smirks, walking up to you and crouching down next to you, "Ah, the last page, have ya read it yet?"
"Not the last one," you smile, "âif only I'd read these sooner, we wouldn't have gone through all that mindless drama in seventh year, right?"
"Eh, 'twas kinda worth it in the end," he shrugs, sitting down next to you and placing his thumb on your chin, "Love, you've been crying?"
You shook your head lightly, letting out a small chuckle which to him sounded like the sweetest melody on the face on the planet, "Tears of joy, 'Tsumu. You were a cute teenager in love."
He smiles with his teeth on display, his fading blonde hair falling on his face with perfection as he whispers, "Only for you, darling."
"I'm glad," you mutter, closing in and placing a ghost of a kiss on his lips when you realize, "Wait, shit! We have to take all of this to the House! I'm supposed to leave for Hogwarts tonight!"
"Kiss me first, then we'll talk."
"'Tsumu, you really didn't have to come all the way to Hogwarts to drop me off," you giggle, as the yellow-haired man intertwines his fingers with yours quietly, giggling along with you as he says, "Hey, now yer students get to see yer hot boyfriend that you've been with for the past eight years."
"My stupid boyfriend that did a lot of illegal things in school. You're not exactly a good influence, you know," you mumble, earning a little offended open-mouth Atsumu walking alongside you to your quarters. He continues faking the vexed expression, a hand on his heart as he says, "How could ya wound me like this, baby?"Â
"I love you though, so it's justified," you say, opening the door and placing your trunk by the bed. He closes the door, leaning on it with his arms crossed over his chest as you set up your things in the room. When you turned around, you saw Atsumu looking at you with the most enamored look in his clove-infused eyes. You sighed, your shoulders immediately relaxing when your orbs land on him by the door. You step towards him, your beige trench coat trailing behind as you wrap your arms around his very muscular figure(now that he's a part of Nottingham Jackals as a Beater).Â
"You're going to leave, aren't you?" you mumble against his chest softly, as he chuckles out, "Yer lucky ya get to stay in Hogwarts when I'm gone. Everything's gonna remind ya of me."
Before you open your mouth to retort, your boyfriend says, "Don't worry, slug. I'll send ya letters everyday. And I'll come to meet ya twice a month. Maybe you can even let me meet yer students."
"'Tsumu, no-"
"Imagine! Children and teenagers, all of 'em love me to death. They'll love yer class, even more, when you make me meet 'em!" he exclaims, his eyes filled with curiosity, "Also, also! What about the third years? I wanna be there when the boggart lesson goes on-"
"'Tsumu, no. The school won't allow it. Although, my students do come and ask about you a lot because they like your Quidditch playing skills. They're not idiots like me, they won't fall in love with your stupid personality," you chuckle, pulling away from the hug, but still holding his arms with yours. He pouts, pulling you into a soft kiss, but immediately pulling away and winking at you, "I'm gonna see ya in a few weeks. Maybe I'll take ya on a date to Hogsmeade again, we can sneak into the Shrieking Shack again under that invisibility cloak."
"'Tsumu, I'm a teacher, not a student!" you laugh, but he simply says, "If anything, that gives us an excuse!"
Miya Atsumu never expected you to be agitatedly running around in your green-room, trying to find things for your hair and make-up. He chuckles lightly because all the other people in the room can do is shake their heads and sigh at your frantic state. Your maid-of-honor, Kiyoko, tried to calm you down about half an hour ago, but it was to no avail.Â
Atsumu sent Kiyoko a knowing glance, to which she and all the other bridesmaids stepped outside for just a minute.Â
"[Y/N]," he says, his voice low but still soothing. You stop in your tracks, turning around and gasping as you looked at himâclad in sweatpants and a white shirtâand widened your eyes.Â
"Dummy, you aren't supposed to see me just yet! Go away and wait at the altar!" you yell, walking over to him and attempting to shove him outside the room.Â
Emphasis on the word, 'attempting'.Â
"You look exactly like what you are right now, a slug. So listen to me, love. I need to give ya something before you start stressin' out all over again," Atsumu murmurs, placing his hands on your shoulders tenderly as he pulls out a book with a leather cover and hands it to you.Â
You sigh, picking it up as you sit down by the vanity. Atsumu looms behind you, crouching down to whisper next to your ears, "Love, open the last page, will ya?"
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, turning your head to look at him with exasperation. He places a peck to your cheek, humming indulgently as an indicator for you to continue as he instructed. You sigh again, shoulders drooping low as you turn over the book and open it, and muttering, "Aparecium."
July 2, 20**.
I want to marry [L/N] [Y/N] someday.Â
Miya Atsumu.Â
From the last day of the seventh year, and Atsumu continues to explain to you that during the train ride back home when all of you were sleeping, was when he wrote the last entry of his diary, and never opened it again. Because he knew, that he meant every word scribbled on every page.Â
You sat there, listening to the man with the messy faded blonde hair, losing yourself in his perfect brown eyes all over again. You felt as if you were diving deep into an ocean of pure chocolate, the sweetness and the slight bitterness getting the best of you as you drownâbut voluntarily, because drowning was your intention.Â
"I love you, Atsumu," you say out of nowhere, cutting him off. He stops abruptly, his eyes growing wide and his mouth forming into a pout. His lips form into the brightest smile ever, as if the rays of a thousand suns meeting at one point. His boyish grin melts your heart, as he presses his lips to your forehead and says, "I love you more, darling. Now, take a breather, will ya?"
"Oh, and before I go. Don't disappoint me today, slug. I've been waiting to do this for the past eleven years."
© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.
iâm not crying. yes.Â
#atsumu miya x reader#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu#atsumu miya#atsumu miya fanfiction#miya atsumu angst#atsumu x reader#atsumu angst#atsumu miya x you#miya atsumu x female reader#miya atsumu fluff#miya atsumu fanfiction#atsumu miya fic#miya atsumu x you#atsumu miya x y/n#hq!! atsumu#hq atsumu#haikyuu atsumu#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu angst#hq#hq!!#haikyuu!!#haikyu#haikyuu#haikyƫ!!#haikyuu kiyoko#hq kiyoko
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Chapter Three - You Said Forever
Another Love Series Masterlist
Pairing(s): Regulus Black x Fem!Reader, Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader
Song: driverâs license - Olivia Rodrigo
Warnings: Angst, shoddy timeline, swearing, (I think thatâs it??).
Word Count:Â 2.8k
Masterlist
Authorâs Note: I made an angst series using sad songs, ofc I had to use driverâs license eventually! Also, although the characters have gotten a bit older, Iâm still using Andrew Garfield and Timmy Chalamet as the face claims! I hope yâall enjoy this chapter, itâs a big one!!
(Neither gif is mine, all credit to the creators!)
If the decrepit walls of 12 Grimmauld Place could talk, they would tell the tales of misery and anguish. The house had not seen much happiness since itâs construction, especially during the period Walburga, Orion, and their children inhabited it. It was only following the deaths of all of Siriusâ family that he took up residence there with you when the anguish was displaced with joy, if only for a short period. Itâs no wonder that you moved to a cabin in the middle of nowhere with Remus following the events of October 31st.
Standing in the front entry once more, the ghosts haunting the dwelling seemed to be whispering unintelligible warnings against proceeding further into the house. You could hear the shrieking of Walburgaâs painting upstairs, a familiar nuisance that had your blood boiling in an instant. Your husbandâs arm draped protectively across shoulders as he rubbed soothing circles with his thumb was the only thing keeping you sane at that moment in time.Â
Through the open door at the end of the hall you could see the face of Sirius Black, the light in his eyes slowly returning as he spots two of his favourite people in the world. He quickly stood, rushing out the door to embrace you both in a warm hug as you dropped your trunks to the floor. He held the both of you close and tight, afraid that should he let go, he would wake up alone in his cell once more.Â
The Order reuniting was the perfect distraction for both you and your husband, your recent unemployment resulting in a sense of unease in both your minds. Luckily, both Sirius and yourself had inherited enough money that you neednât worry about working, but the void that your children left when they returned to Hogwarts the following year was certainly hard to fill. Summer break couldnât come soon enough for any of you.Â
Towards the end of that summer the Weasleys came to stay, Molly and Arthur bringing their four youngest, meaning that mischief lay just around every corner. About a week after their arrival was when Hermione showed up, the same day that Moody had taken a small group to retrieve Harry from the Dursleys.
Hearing the opening door, you rushed from the kitchen where the meeting had been taking place to see that Arthur had returned with the young girl who heâd picked up from her muggle household.
â Professor (Y/L/N)!â She smiled, lugging her cart behind her with one hand while the other cradled her ginger cat.Â
âOh please, Hermione, Iâm not your teacher anymore.â You said. â(Y/N) is fine.â You knew the girl had seen you as a role model, both academically as a skilled teacher but also following the story Harry had detailed to her about how youâd worked for the Order to relay Death Eater secrets to them. You can still remember the slap across the head sheâd given Ron after he let her secret slip during class, the young girl embarrassed that you knew how she idolized you.
âThe rest of the kids are just upstairs if you want to join them, Ginny will show you to the room youâre sharing. Harry should be getting here in about half an hour, and dinner will be at six-thirty!â You explained, the girl smiling as she carefully let Crookshanks down to the floor before she dragged her case up the stairs behind her.
Returning to the table, you sat in the seat across from your husband as you shared a tight-lipped smile. The two of you had decided that it was probably best to maintain a level of professionalism around your fellow Order members, the pair of you keeping all talk of your relationship outside of the meetings. These gatherings, however, continued to consist of endless bickering over the topics of Harry and Voldemort, the only subtle comfort youâd found during the evening had been Crookshanks crawling upon your lap for a snooze.
âIâm just saying that we canât risk telling Harry about this, itâll just be putting him in more danger and we never know whoâs listening.â You said. âI mean, look at Pettigrew! He hid in your house for years without anyone knowing! Who knows what heâs shared with âYou Know Whoâ!â
âYes, but there arenât exactly unregistered animagi running around everywhere, (Y/N).â Sirius remarked.Â
âSays the unregistered animagus to the other unregistered animagus.â You snapped, glaring at your in-law from across the table.
You forced your mouth shut after that, not wanting to continue bickering with your friends, letting your thoughts wander until Siriusâ comment forced itâs way back to the front of your mind. You werenât exactly sure as to why it was bothering you so much. Even after the meeting had concluded and you were the last one in the kitchen, baking cookies for the teens to snack on the following days, you couldnât shake an odd feeling. As if there was something that your subconscious had registered that your conscious mind hadnât yet comprehended.Â
It was only when you turned to grab the tinfoil from the cupboard behind you that a cold sweat found your body, your mind finally registering what youâd missed when something caught the corner of your eye. Maybe you hadnât noticed it because you didnât want to believe it, or maybe it was that part of you realized just how long it would take for this shock to fully register.
âYou must think Iâm stupid,â You began, refusing to turn away from the dough you were scooping onto the cookie sheet, âor maybe youâre still just as arrogant as you were in school.â
You didnât receive a response right away, causing both a wave of relief and disappointment to wash over you at your incorrect suspicion. But that all went away when you heard a shifting sound and the screeching of a chair.
âWhat gave me away?â A voice called from behind you in a smug tone youâd heard countless times many years ago.
âOh please, Regulus.â You said, finally working up the courage to turn around as you fought desperately to conceal your emotions. He was older now, crinkles reaching the corners of his eyes, and his previously neat clothes were now battered, torn, and bloodstained, but apart from that he looked just as he did when he walked out the door years ago. âWe were married - I know you better than you know yourself.â
He gave a silent chuckle as his smirk became a tiny smile and he looked towards the floor. An uncomfortable silence filled the room as a strong, unnamable tension continued to grow between you. While you expected an explanation, Regulus seemed to have anticipated a much happier reaction from you.Â
âWhat, youâre not happy to see me?â Regulus commented, his confusion continuing to build at your indifference to his sudden appearance. âIâm still your husband, you canât spare me a smile, at the very least?â
Thatâs when it hit you - he doesnât know. Regulus, or Crookshanks, rather, hadnât heard anybody mention that youâd moved on. It must have been some luck or twisted fate that heâd never been in the room when your relationship had been mentioned, which means he also doesnât know about Teddy. But does he know about Archie and Cassie? Surely he wouldâve asked about them immediately if he was aware.
âYouâve been gone for a very long time.â You said, your bitter tone contrasting the quietness of your voice, yet your volume grew with each word until you were shouting. âYou abandoned me, how dare you show up now and expect me to welcome you back into my life with open arms. Do you have any idea what I have been through the past sixteen years?! You have no fucking clue exactly what you left me to deal with! And now you sit here with that smug expression, daring to call yourself my husband and expecting me to forgive you for the hell you put me through?!â
Regulus sat there with his mouth opening and closing, the first time youâd ever seen the quick-witted boy speechless. You could see the hurt in his emerald eyes as his mind desperately searching for something, anything to say. But you never got the chance, as the door opening as a third voice filled the room.
âHoney, itâs starting to get late, I think you should come to - dear god.âÂ
Both your and Regulusâ heads snapped towards the over of the voice, only for your eyes to meet your other husband. It didnât take long for Regulus to process why Lupin was calling you âhoneyâ and exactly where his comment was going, his eyes darting between the two of you over and over again, before a sigh escaped him.
âSo thatâs why.â He said, leaning further back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. âHow long was I gone before you and the werewolf started -â
âDonât!â You bit, probably a bit too loud because that was what finally caught the attention of two sets of ears upstairs. In the long, dark hall, two doors opened and two sets of eyes stared at each other from across the way. The eldest and youngest of the Black men eventually made their way down the stairs together, careful to be quiet as they attempted to discern what the voices in the kitchen were arguing about.
âThere is a lot more going on than you realize, you canât just expect everything to go back to normal after so long. Now if the two of you would stop bickering like children we can discuss everything like adults.â They could hear Remus say, presumably attempting to diffuse the situation considering how level-headed the man typically is.Â
There was no sound as Sirius slowly peeked his head through the already open door, utterly disbelieving the sight before his eyes as his shocked exclamation broke the eerie silence.
âHoly shit!âÂ
âWhat?!â Archie gasped from behind him, squeezing into the room behind Sirius and peering over his shoulder to see a face that heâd only ever seen in photos before.
Regulusâ eyes widened at the sight of the young Black, clearly seeing so much of himself in the fifteen year-old boy. You being pregnant when he left definitely wasnât outside the realm of possibilities, you were married after all, and suddenly a lot of your anger towards him seemed justified.Â
âIs that my⊠Were youâŠâ He trailed off, unable to find the words he wanted to say as his mind still processed this new information.
Remus suddenly covered his shaking head with the palm of his hand, quickly exiting the room and heading out the front door to get some air. He didnât want to watch Regulus steal his wife and his kids away from him - he just couldnât.
âFuck.â You cursed under your breath, holding your own head in your hands as you attempted to make sense of the insanity around you. âArchie, go back upstairs, Iâll be up in just a minute.â
âBut-â Your son didnât get to finish his protest, the look in your eyes when your head shot up to look at him scared him into compliance. In his entire life, heâs never seen that look of utter fury, especially not from you. He quickly left the room, anxious to fill his sister in on everything that had just gone down.
âSirius, please deal with your brother while I go find my husband.â You breathed, not sticking around to hear a response as you made your way down the hall.
âNow where,â Sirius began, pulling out the chair at the head of the table and quickly sinking into it, âhave you been?â
âI was the cat.â Regulus stated simply, the smirk he typically wore working its way back onto his face.
âYou were Hermioneâs cat?!â Sirius laughed, finding the irony of another âdeadâ person in his life winding up as being one of the trioâs pets. âMaybe we need to take a look at Harryâs owl.â
But the humour of the situation didnât last very long, both their faces quickly falling as reality gained their attention once more.Â
âI canât believe I have a sonâŠâ Regulus trailed off, still in utter disbelief about the existence of the boy who looks exactly like him.
âAnd a daughter.â Sirius added, his brotherâs eyes widening to saucers once more. âTwins, to be exact. Arcturus and Cassiopeia.â
âWhatâre they like?â He asked, desperate to learn more about the children heâd never known existed. Of all the things Harry, Ron, and Hermione talked about around him, they couldnât have mentioned his children at least once?
âTheyâre perfect - donât know where they get it from, probably somewhere on (Y/N)âs side.â Sirius said, a small smile forming as he talked about the kids he adored so much. âTheyâre both in Slytherin, just about to go into their sixth year. Archie is the quieter one, just like you were, while Cassie is a lot more extroverted and even joined the quidditch team her first year.â
âAnd (Y/N)...â Regulus suddenly grew solemn again, letting out a disappointed breath as he looked away to a random point in the room. âI need to win her back.â
âRegulus, I- I donât think you can.â Sirius said, causing his brotherâs head to whip back around to him, fury written all over his face. âRemus and her have been together for years, thatâs not something thatâll just go away. He raised your children with her and they also have another son together, Teddy.â
âThen what am I supposed to do? Just give up?!â He snapped, a sinking feeling beginning to set in as he began to realize just how difficult getting you back to himself will end up being.Â
âWhatâre you supposed to do? Youâre supposed to get to know and form a relationship with the children whoâve thought you were dead their entire lives!â Sirius said. âAnd maybe youâll establish a new relationship with (Y/N) again, one as co-parents. But her and Remus have both been to hell and back, so please, just promise me you wonât go about trying to sabotage their marriage.â
âBut what about our marriage?â
Remus couldnât hear any of the typical sounds of busy London that night, he was too anxious and all that he could pick up were the sounds of his heavy breathing. He was so distracted, in fact, that he didnât notice you quietly slipping through the front door or sitting down beside him until you leaned your head on his shoulder.Â
âHowâd he come back?â Remus asked, wondering just what had happened to tear his life apart.Â
âHe was Hermioneâs cat.â You said, your voice soft and sorrowful. âTurns out the Marauders werenât the only unregistered animagi at Hogwarts. Iâm just embarrassed it took me so long to figure it out, I knew it was his patronus but I guess I just didnât want it to be true.â
âWhat does this mean for us?â Remus asked the dreaded question looming in his mind.
âWhat do you mean âwhat does this mean for us?â Why would this change anything?â You asked in disbelief, raising your head from his shoulder to look at him.
âBut heâs Archieâs and Cassieâs father-â
âSo are you! Youâre also Teddyâs dad.â
âAnd you were married. He was your husband first.â Remus added, gazing at you with a look of nothing but misery. âWe were at Hogwarts together, I saw how utterly obsessed the both of you were with each other for years. You never even spared me a second glance, the only reason you even knew I existed was because I was friends with his brother⊠Iâm not even mad about it, you should be with whoever you want to be with, and thatâs Regulus. Youâve always deserved someone better than me-â
âNow you listen to me Remus John Lupin.â You began, your husband flinching at the use of his full name, something that you only did when you were angry. âYou are who I want to be with, not Regulus; thereâs no one better than you. If anything, Iâm the one who doesnât deserve you. Yes, we were married first, but that was for less than a year and happened seventeen years ago! Weâve been together for fourteen years, Remus, youâre my life now. I loved him in the past but he abandoned his family, youâre my life now and the one I want to grow old with. He might be Archie and Cassieâs father, but youâll always be their dad.â
None of your eyes were dry by the end of your confession and you both spent the next several minutes just holding each other, relishing in the fact that the both of you were going to be okay.Â
âLetâs go to bed, yeah?â You said, Remus nodding in response as the pair of you stood up. âWe can deal with the rest tomorrow, Sirius can handle it for now.â
A/N: Okay, so I donât personally believe the theory that Regulus never died and was actually Crookshanks, but it was what worked for this story so thatâs what weâre going with! Iâm so grateful for all the support this series has gotten, you guys are the best!
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Ghost of you - Part 5
Summary: When your answers doesnât fill in the blanks properly, the only option is to move forward. A/N: Two in a row, âcause Iâm nice like that. Thanks for those who left comments and likes, reblogged and gave me any kind of support. Youâre amazing! I mentioned that this would be slow burn, right? Trigger Warnings: Violence, language, mentions of death⊠If you find others, let me know.
âAnd all the things that you never ever told me.â
My encounter with Fury left me felling scarred and open. I knew a name; I knew who I used to be. I knew things about me, but they felt so foreign, like they belonged to someone else. Maybe, because it did. I wasnât Lara, but was I Ghost? Later that night, I was assaulted with the womanâs⊠no, Carolâs crash, Carol going away scenes once again. My head was an utterly turmoil.  It became obvious that my memory from Carol leaving, our brake-up, came after the accident and not in the sequence that Hydra played in my mind. Bastards. They led me to believe that I was useless. That all I was authorized to feel was void, emptiness. What did I feel, now? Besides this rage masquerade as fire, what was left to feel? What was permitted?
I looked at the door as soon as I heard the locks. Romanoff enters my accommodation and I get up, not too fast to not startle her. âMiss Romanoff, fancy seeing you here without bodyguards.â She glares at me. âThought didnât worth the effort to protect them.â Sheâs flashes me a tide smile. âIt came to my attention that youâve met Fury.â I nod. âSo, how should I call you now?â Â She takes two steps closer and leans at the table. âLara? Or do you still prefer Ghost? I shrug âAll of them makes me uneasy. None of them seem to fit.â âHm. Maverick then.â âI never said that this one was good either.â âWell, we need to call you somehow.â Â A grin is scaping her lips. âWe?â Â I blinked and she was looking at me from the door frame. âCome. Iâm afraid that youâre starting to rust.â
Agent Romanoff didnât want revenge, but she definitely wanted payback. And God, that woman is almost too fast for me to keep up. Almost. After being in my accommodation for so long, I was indeed a bit rusted. However, my muscles loved the exercise, and it did wonders to my brain. Fighting against such good opponent kept me focused on our spar. First time in days that I stop to think and overthink about my misery. Romanoff came with one of those Widowâs combos that I menage to dodge and block a few, but one kick reached my shoulder while her elbow found my temples.
All of a sudden, Iâm standing in a bar. My mindâs eye was caught in something like a foggy screen and oh my, is this a memory? I had a drink in my hand while the other one was resting in a sling. I was feeling like shit, so much sorrow coursing through me, all I could⊠I feel a slap in my good shoulder. I look up to see a tall man offering me a pool cue. âCome, the winner gets free beers.â  I look at my drink while I say. âThanks, Iâm good. Iâm not in the mood.â He nudges me. What part of mood, he didnât catch? He speaks. âOh câmon, Mav. Danversâs accident is tragic and all, but câmon⊠or are you just sad about your injured arm?â Fire starts to spread throughout my chest. âExcuse me?â He leans in the counter. âLook, all Iâm saying is that you guys werenât even friends, none of us were. She was too cocky. Guess Miss goody two shoes couldnât even drive a car, let alone fly a jet.â The fire was consuming, was bursting out of me until it reached its peak. Complete forgetting about the sling, my hand moved to the back of his head so, so fast. Next thing I knew, I was knocking his head in the counter. He looks up with his nose covered in blood. âBitch!â He charged at me. He knocked me down and my head hit the floor, but I needed to put this fire out, I wouldnât stop now, I needed to vent my rage. I failed in protecting her from dying, but I sure wonât fail in protecting her memory from this scum. After exchanging punches and kicks, I held him in a chokehold. âNever, and I do mean never talk about her like this, Specht.â I looked up to see an audience. âIâll kill anyone of you who dares to speak of her.â I let go of him and left the bar. When reality finds me again, the first thing to reach my ears is Romanoffâs voice. âMaverick, are you alright?â âYeah, Iâm good. Why?â  She scoffs. âI hit your head and then you stop fighting, kept looking nowhere, like in a trance.â âOh. I⊠Iâm sorry.â Her voice is softer when she speaks again. âWhat happened? Do you need me to call, Bruce or Dr. Cho?â âWhat? No, no. Iâm fine. Itâs just⊠I had a vision, I donât know.â I rub my temples to ease the pain in my head. âI think that I saw a memory, after you hit me, in a moment I was here sparing with you and the next I was in a bar having a bar fight with a man.â âYou were a fighter even before, huh?â She joked and I shrugged. âAre this visions or memories assaults a common thing?â I frown trying to make it simpler. âIâve never had another memory except being left behind and the Crash in a loop. Guess Iâm just confused. Do I need specific triggers to remember things or is this my brain fighting Hydraâs brainwashing?â She gives me a look that I canât decipher. âIâm sorry all of this happened to you. Let us help you.â âHelp? With what? Will you guys erase my memory again?â âHow long will take for you to start to trust us? We wonât hurt you.â Trust? Her question caught me off guard. How can I trust, when I donât know what trust is? âI want to believe in you but all that I know is Hydra. Guess Iâm afraid of this being just smoke and mirrors.â Her brows were so furrowed that probably hurts. âItâs not. And Iâm here to help.â I narrow my eyes at her âWhy are you being nice to me?â I open my arms to show the sparing room âBringing me here, offering help⊠Iâm the enemy, Miss Romanoff.â She shakes her head. âNo. You were a victim who were weaponized, yes. Nothing, but another casualty.â Iâm still not convinced, and she knows. âLook, Fury trusts you and I trust Fury. Remember all those Hydraâs bases and facilities that you gave us?â I nodded. âWe paid a visit to a few of them, the intel you gave us matched so far.â âDoes this mean youâll let me go?â I asked. âDo you really think that you would be safe out there?â Her green orbs are boring into mine. I sign, looking away. âStarkâs Tower is one of the safest buildings in this world.â âThen, what are we?â What am I, prisoner with benefits? A smirk makes its way to her lips. âThe enemy of my enemyâŠâ
 Surprisingly enough, Romanoff led me to the towerâs kitchen and offered me a sandwich for lunch. Iâm a bit uneasy with this interaction, donât know how to act, donât know what to expect. I take my surroundings to mentally calculate an escape route, she knows the place, but I believe that I could fight with her if she tries to kill me with a butterknife. She doesnât try to make small talk and Iâm glad. To fight, survive and punishments are the only interactions that Iâm used to. I donât know how to function in a normal life, if that exists.
I recognize a newcomer, Captain America in all his glory. Romanoff puts a plate in front of me while speaks. âHi, Cap. Joining us for lunch?â âWhat is she doing here, Natasha?â âEverything she told us matched so far, Fury trusts her. Since sheâs helping us against Hydra, Iâm willing to give her the benefit of doubt.â âIf Black Widow is willing to trust you...â He offered his hand for me to shake. âIâm Steve Rogers. Captain America if you will.â I took his hand in mine. âItâs a pleasure, Sir. Iâm⊠hm.â I let go of his hand, suddenly I donât know what Iâm supposed to do. âI donât know how to introduce myself.â A humorless smile grace my lips. âGuess Hydra never taught me that part.â âI think we should call her by her call sign. Maverick.â  Widow supplies With a shrug, Rogers says. âItâs catchy. And if I called you Major, youâd outrank me.â He whispers the last part âI wouldnât like that; Tony could use you against me.â The Redhead sitting next to me let out a heartly laugh which is soon joined by Rogersâs and Iâm mesmerized. So, this is how people function in daily basis. I always wondered if being caged in a dark room waiting to be called for missions was only my reality or everyoneâs. Guess that seeing them here, so relaxed having a meal in a wide kitchen with a meaningless conversation was answer enough. Iâm amazed how light, how comfortable they seemed to be with each other. I wonderâŠ
âMav?â Iâm brought out of my reverie by Romanoffâs voice. âSorry, what?â âI said that your intel about anti-aircraft weapons were crucial to help us reach Hydraâs bases unscathedâ Rogers says. âDidnât thought they would have so many.â âAs I told miss Romanoff before, everyone was paranoid. Even with all the guns, defenses, and secret locations. Nothing could ease their fear. Now I know that they were afraid of you.â I chewed a bit. âHave you guys closed all the ones I gave you, already?â âNot yet. Weâre looking for something. So, weâre choosing our targets according with your intel and ours.â I looked at him. âWhat are you looking for?â This was a sensitive subject, if his subtle shift was any indication. He was uneasy to share this with me. Couldnât blame him, though, I was still enemy. An acquaintance enemy, but still. âItâs a high-tech device. Extremely dangerous, especially in their hands.â I didnât miss the way he chose the word âtheirâ indicating that I wasnât part of âthemâ and I appreciated the gesture. This device tough⊠âThere is a lot of facilities build for experiments. Those were the ones always exchanging data, research, personnelâŠâ I was deep in thought. âBut there was this one in Sokovia. They were always asking for more subjects, or volunteers as they called.â I wet my lips. âI was ordered to be the stealthier that I could, my hole unit stayed there. I was the only one to come back.â I looked up to him.  âHave you guys tried that one, yet?â âSokovia?â He repeated. âNo, thereâs little to none about Sokovia in our files. Isnât an old building with ancient, abandoned equipment and vehicles?â âThereâs nothing old and abandoned in Sokovia, mister Rogers.â I rest my fork in my empty plate. âOn the contrary, they are the busiest. Theyâre just keeping an incredible low profile.â He turns to Romanoff. âNat, contact the team. Weâre going on a trip.â âDonât forget your jacket.â
---------------Â
Apparently, Sokovia was a huge success with a very big H, because I was invited to a party, by Tony Stark himself. Now, my dilemma was increased, if I didnât know how to act in a simple conversation. How do they expect me to function in a party, with their friends and a lot of them knows who I am. Plus, Iâve never been in a party. This is bound to be a disaster.
Yep. I was right. There was a crazy robot giving a speech about Avengers being nothing more than killers. Then, all hell broke loose. Iâm fighting killer robots in a fancy party room. Without thinking, miss Hill handled me a gun. Guess that âthe enemy of my enemyâ is really a thing around here. In the end, my metal arm did more damage. As soon as Thorâs hammer crashed the last robot, the party was over.
#cap marvel#captain marvel#carol danvers#carol danvers x original character#carol danvers x reader#carol danvers x fem!reader#captain marvel x reader#age of ultron#ghost of you#infinity stones#natasha romanoff#Ghost#original female character#original character#marvel fanfic series#marvel x reader
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lurking
spencer reid x readerÂ
summary: reader longs for spencerÂ
warnings: fluff? longing.. no real conclusion. mentions of alcohol..its based off of a day dream i have all the time so... beware...ummm.. thats itÂ
***
Dreams are things made out of hope.Â
Dreams are made out of emotions you collect as a child, emotions that you store in your back pocket for a rainy day. For the future. Dreams are made out of all the things that you once saw as reality. Things that escape you as you age, as you fade away from the bright-eyed child you were. Once were.Â
Dreams are made out of things that fall out of your pocket.Â
Dreams are invasions, popping into your head at any moment, any second, awake or asleep. They crawl around your insides, looking for your weakest spot, the very place that will hurt you most.
They lurk. Climbing over walls and tip-toeing through corridors. They lurk and they don't leave. No, for them, there is no exit, no signs directing the way out.Â
There is no escaping from the dreams that sneak their way into your body.  Â
They search in the dark, not alerting you to their presence until they find it, that one spot, that one place that hurts the most, in the darkest corner, in the farthest place.Â
Dreams are invasions that know how to hurt you the most.Â
They sting, and they burn, and they sear at your skin, they create their own passages, burning you in the process. They go through flesh and bones, and all the things your body has to work to repair. They destroy your insides, looking, searching, lurking, for that one thing.Â
The one thing that hurts the most. The one thing that you try to keep locked away. Keep away from the prying eyes of other people, and monsters that lurk in the dark. Monsters that like the tear dreams away from people. It's the one thing that can be taken by anything, people, places, things.Â
It's the thing that will always, inevitably, hurt the most.Â
The very one thing that you don't think about.Â
You don't think about it.Â
You aren't supposed to think about it. Because it hurts. Because thinking about it can only hurt you in the long run. Because you can't trust yourself to believe something that isn't there, might never be there.Â
Dreams are monsters that people pretend save them.Â
***Â
Her dream wasn't any different.Â
It wasn't hopeful, was a dream she ever planned to follow through with, her dream was just a secret she wouldn't keep, deep down, for as long as she could.Â
You see, her dream wasn't something obtainable. Wasn't something sheâd ever hoped to dream.Â
She loathed this dream of hers.Â
Because it wasn't realistic, because she wasn't a child anymore, she wasn't bright eyes or naive, or full of hope for the world. She was older, and she understood that dreams are just made up things. She understood that you didn't get everything you hoped for.Â
And this dream, this dream, in particular, was especially made up.Â
This dream wasn't about becoming a princess like she had dreamed of as a kid. This dream wasn't winning the lottery, or opening up her own business, or having kids, or traveling the world.Â
No, those things were all obtainable, were all possible to some extent. If anyone tried enough, they could make any one of those dreams come true.Â
Her dream. Her only dream. Was impossible. Utterly impossible. Something that would never come true.Â
And for that reason, she hated her mind for coming up with it.Â
She hated her subconscious for allowing this dream to dance around her head while she was powerless, while she could do nothing to stop it, nothing to avoid it. She hated that she could ever come up with something, something so far away from her, something she could barely reach.Â
Something lovely, something perfect.Â
No.Â
This dream, this far away dream of hers, it started in her house.Â
Not the apartment she lived in, but the house she used to live in, the house sheâd lived in for most of her life.Â
It started, with her on the couch.Â
And she was staring at the wall.Â
There was this feeling in her heart, in her chest. This unmistakeable, indescribable feeling.Â
Sheâd never felt it before, never quite felt the same panging in her chest, the banging of her heart. Not in all the years sheâd lived, through all the emotions sheâd felt. No, sheâd never felt something like this.Â
There was no word she could put on it.Â
She wondered for a brief moment if there was something wrong. If there was something wrong with her heart, with her lungs, if that was why she was feeling this strange new emotion in her body.Â
But, then her eyes moved around the room.Â
They moved and they saw him.Â
And, even though sheâd never felt like this before, her mind understood.Â
Spencer was sitting in a chair across from her, his legs crossed, almost uncomfortably in the tiny chair, and he looked at her.Â
And she was used to that. He looked at her all the time.Â
But this was different.Â
There was a small smile on his face. Not like a grin, not like a smirk, this smile was completely different, so so different.Â
And this look, this look he was giving her, it was new, it was brand new, straight out of the box and shiny. It was a look she hadn't seen before.Â
But it filled her stomach with butterflies, her heart with hope, and that feeling was stuck in her chest.Â
She could feel herself get flustered under his gaze.Â
Her body was moving away, her eyes leaving Spencer and heading toward the kitchen, as she looked around she didn't wonder why she was there, her mind already seemed to know.Â
She was moving around the kitchen, trying to ignore the burning gaze of Spencer, trying to remember what she was doing in the kitchen, why she went there in the first place.Â
She hated that he could still see her from the living room. She turned her back towards him, staring at the cabinets above her head. Trying to get her mind together, her thoughts in a straight line.Â
She tried to control the pounding of her heart that wouldn't stop, wouldn't stop as long as she could feel the burn on her back.Â
And when she turned back around, he was still staring at her. With the same look in his eyes, the same smile on his face.Â
Her body almost crumbled under his gaze.Â
âWhy are you staring at me?â she asked, her laughing surprising herself.Â
Spencer only smiled wider, amused, well aware of her reaction to him.Â
The two of them were alone in this house,Â
âIâm not staring,â he said, laughing with her.Â
She rolled her eyes. Placing a hand on her hip, her heart beating loudly in her ears.Â
âThen what are you doing?â she questioned, her eyes were scowling at him, but her smile proved otherwise.Â
Spencer idly looked up, fiddling with his hands in his lap, teasing her with no answer.Â
âSpencer,â she warned with her voice, the threat clear in the air.Â
âIâm watching you. Youâre hard not to look at.âÂ
Her heart skipped a beat.Â
A moment passed, two.Â
âSo you are staring at me?âÂ
Spencer laughed.Â
She laughed with him.Â
He motioned for her to come closer, speaking all the words she needed to hear with just his expression.Â
And then she was sitting in the chair with him, sitting on his lap, and they were alone.Â
And they kissed.Â
His lips were soft, and inviting, and completely mesmerizing.Â
It felt like a first kiss. All over again,Â
And there was this thing. This thing between them. A feeling in the air. It was just a feeling. But they were looking at each other, and the adoration could be seen from a mile away, miles away and anyone could tell just how much love was in their eyes.Â
Love.Â
Love was the feeling.Â
âŠ
She hated it.
She hated that dream.Â
She hated it with a blinding, scorching, fire.Â
She hated that it existed.Â
She hated that it was the first clue. She hated that it was her realization, that waking up from that dream had changed her. Forever.Â
She hated that the dream had found her opening, in the deepest darkest place of her body. She hated it.Â
She hated that sheâd so thoroughly enjoyed it while it was going on. She hated that there was a part of her that wished it wasn't a dream. She hated that she loved it. She shouldn't, she couldn't, love it.Â
She hated it.Â
So much.Â
She hated it.Â
***Â
Dreams were nothing but ideas, fantasies.Â
Dreams were only there to hurt you.Â
***Â
She couldn't stop staring at him.Â
Couldn't stop thinking of that dream.Â
Couldn't stop searching his eyes for that same look.Â
She knew she knew, that it would never work out. That he didn't like her like that, that her dreams had fooled her, that she was just making things up.Â
She knew that. She did.Â
But she couldn't stop thinking about that moment.Â
That moment she had woken herself up to. That moment when they were both staring at each other, lovestruck.Â
She couldn't stop thinking about the look in his eyes, the smile on his face.Â
His lips on hers.Â
She couldn't stop thinking about that feeling.Â
That feeling that she had never felt before. That feeling that seemed to be stuck in her chest, glued to her ribs, to her heart, to all the veins that ran through her body. That feeling was everywhere, far too intense, far too much.Â
Stuck.Â
And maybe she was making it up, maybe he didn't actually make her feel that maybe it was some false reality her mind had created to give her a moment of peace while she slept. Maybe maybe maybe.Â
But, even if it wasn't true, she couldn't get rid of the urge to find out. To know, to discover how she really felt. That annoying urge to know.Â
And that dream kept appearing behind her eyes.Â
Even a month later.Â
It hadn't faded even an inch.Â
And she was standing in front of him, watching him laugh with all of their friends.Â
He was laughing, talking to Hotch about a case theyâd been on when heâd first joined the BAU. And she was laughing with them, partly listening. But she was thinking. She was too preoccupied to pay all of her attention to the conversation. She was looking around, noticing things.Â
And sheâd noticed. Sheâd noticed the way he was looking at everyone else.Â
Sheâd noticed how he looked at JJ the exact same way he looked at her, how he looked at Emily, and Garcia, all the same. He looked at them like he loved them like he cared.Â
But it wasn't that look. It wasn't the same look.Â
She couldn't stop staring at him. Couldn't stop thinking, wondering. She hoped no one had noticed. Hoped that it wasn't obvious.Â
She wondered how long she had felt this way. How long she had been hidden under the fog, the fog that kept her away from these feelings, this staring. How long she had been trapped without the realization of her dream?Â
Her stupid stupid dream.Â
She watched him laugh.Â
âHey Pretty Girl!â she heard from across the bar. The lights on the ceiling blinded her as she looked over to Derek, her hand in front of her face, trying to notice him in the crowd. âAnother drink?â he shouted when her eyes had finally found him.Â
And she looked down to her glass, almost empty.Â
She thought about how she felt. How she would feel later.Â
She thought about how Spencer wasn't looking at her, the feel of his lips, the way he had grabbed her thighs in her dream, the lovestruck look in his eyes, she thought and she thought andÂ
She nodded.Â
Her head was already spinning a little, getting heavier to hold up. But, she thought, another drink won't hurt. Just one more.Â
Just to get this feeling out of her chest, to get this image out of her head. To get this hurt away from her body.Â
Because it hurt too. While she was curious, and mad, and hoping. It still hurt.Â
It hurt because she didn't like dreaming. She didn't like expecting, she didn't like that feeling, that crushing feeling that always made her way eventually, that feeling when everything fell out of her body, when all her excitement, her nerves, vanished, and she was just alone with disappointment.Â
The disappointment was almost worse than anything else. Because disappointment didn't leave, no matter how much you begged it to.Â
And for that reason. It hurt. It hurt to dream, to hope, to know that nothing was coming, that nothing was there.Â
âY/N?â she heard, and her heart jumped, and the glass in her hand almost fell.Â
She turned to look at Spencer, her body moving slower than it was five minutes ago.Â
âYes?â she asked, her voice almost too soft for the music playing in the background.Â
But who could blame her? She was distracted by his eyes on her, his lips, his smile, the mess of his hair.Â
âWhat's the craziest case youâve been on? Everyone else has shared theirsâŠâ he said it soft, almost as if he was talking to a child. She enjoyed it, enjoyed that moment when he was looking at just her.Â
And then that moment was over.Â
And the funny feeling in her stomach was gone.Â
And Derek handed her a drink.Â
And she was talking.Â
*
And even hours later, when they were all blinded by the lights, and dizzy, her dream was still there, sinking in her chest.Â
And she couldn't stop staring at him.Â
It was ridiculous.Â
It had been like this for a month. A complete month of staring at him, waiting for something, anything to happen.Â
She hated it. She hated this hope, she hated this dream, she hated everything about this situation.Â
Spencer was her friend. Spencer was just her friend. He had always been her friend, always been extra support when she needed it, had always been nothing more than a person she loved. He was like all of her other friends, there was no difference, there was nothing different about him.Â
So why did she feel this burning, this terrifying passion whenever she looked at him? Why did she feel like she was never going to breathe again if he was in the room? Why did she feel like nothing would be complete unless she got to feel his lips against hers, just once, just once for real?Â
Why did she feel this way for someone who had always been her friend?Â
It was ridiculous. It was completely stupid, and it didn't make any sense, and she wished she could go back to a month ago and will herself to never dream, to never have this dream, filling her heart with empty promises, and expectations.Â
And she was staring at him.Â
She really needed to stop staring at him.Â
She needed to stop thinking, to stop hoping.Â
She needed this dream to stop.Â
And they needed to leave.Â
It was already three in the morning, already later than she ever went to bed, already pitch black outside. All of them knew that if they left the bar it would be completely quiet, their city dead with all its people asleep.Â
All of them knew it was time to leave.Â
They walked out the doors together, the cold air outside filling all of them with relief after being inside, after walking around all the body heat all night.Â
It was wonderful outside.Â
The stars were up, lit, it seemed just for them. The sky was quiet, not a thing going on. It was peaceful, wonderful, it almost felt like a completely different dream.Â
One that wasn't hopeless.Â
âBeautiful.â She breathed under her breath, the words filling their air with something content, and all her friends turned to look at her.Â
âIt isn't it?â Spencer whispered from beside her. And for a moment, it felt like he was just talking to her like this was meant to be a moment for just them. Like this was just for them. Like it was a dream.Â
But then Spencer looked away from the sky, to their friends, their friends who were waving goodbye.Â
And the moment was almost broken. Almost. Almost. But.Â
Then he turned to look at her again. Turned back to her now that all of their friends were gone.Â
And she thought of him, she thought of nothing but him, nothing but his voice, the kind way he always seemed to talk to her. She thought of nothing but his lips, but his eyes, but his mouth, but the way his hands would feel on her. She thought and she thought, and she could think of nothing, her brain was so full, so filled to the brim of just him that it was almost impossible to think-Â
But.
His lips.Â
His soft-looking, right there, lips.Â
She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to stop closer, to take that step, to be close to him under the beautiful sky, to feel his lips against hers in a moment that wasn't a dream, she wanted to move, she wanted to move miles with him, move miles away so it would be just them. And she just wanted, she just wanted, she just wanted to kiss him. She wanted nothing more, but to kiss him, to live her dream.Â
Her dream that was almost as close as he was, her dream which was only a reach away. Only one movement, one movement, one tiny little step away, her dream her dream her dream.Â
His lips. His lips were everything, this moment, this moment was everything. He was everything. Dream dream dream dream. She wanted to kiss him, to step closer, to just-Â
No.Â
No, she muttered to herself.Â
Her brain might be fogged with alcohol, and dreams, and desires.
But, she won't, she doesn't.Â
She won't kiss him.Â
Sheâll just walk away. Walk far away. So far.Â
***
Because, the thing about dreams, is that theyâre not real.Â
Theyâre just not real.Â
Dreams can come true. They can shape themselves into reality.Â
But, dreams are just ideas you keep stored in your pocket, hopes that you hope won't fall out. A different world that you must carry in your own arms.Â
And sometimes, the weight simply gets too heavy.Â
Sometimes you can't carry the weight of the world by yourself.Â
Sometimes, dreams fall out of your pockets, hope goes with them, and sometimes you drop the world, the world that you were supposed to be carrying.Â
It's just too heavy.Â
Dreams are monsters that lurk in the dark of your body, searching, lurking, for the places, the spots that will hurt the most.Â
Because, pain, deep-burning pain, is all dreams are.Â
They used to be good.Â
They used to be full of innocence, and hope, and desire, and nothing but lovely thoughts.Â
But they lurk too long.Â
And never come true.Â
***Â
She would sleep again that night.Â
She would know that it would come back, that her dream would be back to haunt her another night.Â
She would fall asleep in hopes that she could dream again.Â
Just once more.Â
***
my masterlist here
#spencer reid smut#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds rp#criminal minds headcanons#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fan#spencer reid fanfic#mgg#mgg x reader#mgg blurb#mgg fanfiction
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The Girl in the Bakery (Part 1)
It was another one of those days where Adrien Agreste just wanted to be someone else. Even with the glamorous lifestyle that came with his last name, there wasnât anything that could outweigh Adrienâs craving of freedom. His entire life had been presented to him on a silver platter, except for the fateful day he received a black and red box. With Chat Noir, his superhero alter-ego, nothing stood in the way of being able to go wherever he wanted.
Maybe with the exception of Ladybugânot that he minded the hold that his partner-in-crime had on him. It was hard not to follow Ladybug anywhere she went, as her confident energy and natural leadership made her addicting to be around.Â
She truly was the perfect woman in Adrienâs eyes. Beautiful, courageous, selfless, determined, yet stubborn, strict, and utterly irresistible. Ladybug was also a good kisser, not that Adrien would remember. The heroine in red had completely captured the heart of Paris, as well as her second in command.Â
Rarely had Adrien been let out of the prison he called his home; however, with the powers of his miraculous, it was easy for him to escape out his window and into the world. He didnât enjoy having to transform anytime he wanted fresh air, but it was the only way he wasnât followed by his bodyguard or his fatherâs assistant, Nathalie. All he had to do was leave the record player on, echoing out the sound of Chopin or Beethoven, and he would get away with a few hours of free time.Â
Usually, once Chat Noirâs feet hit the concrete of a deserted alleyway, he would turn back into Adrien and carry on his merry way--maybe take a walk through the park, get some ice cream, and avoid paparazzi as much as he could. But on this particular day, his leather suited counterpart seemed more appealing. Perhaps he was hoping to catch Ladybug on a daytime patrol or wanted to scale the Eiffel Tower, but something about staying Chat Noir just felt right.
He launched himself from roof to roof, occasionally waving at those who spotted him. His black ensemble made it harder for him to be seen due to the sky growing dark, but his green eyes and small yelps of joy made it very obvious to citizens which hero was out. Perched on the Louvre, Chat Noir hummed softly to himself. âLittle kitty on the roof, all alone without his ladyâŠâ
âChaton?â a voice spoke, ringing into the air with a sweet tone. Chatâs eyes darted up, settling on the blue eyed beauty standing behind him. A genuine grin stretched across his face, before replacing it with a smirk. Standing up quickly, Chatâs hand engulfed Ladybugâs and he pressed his lips to her knuckles in a playful kiss.
âGood evening Bugaboo,â Chat said, bowing slightly in a joking manner. âNice of you to join me on this beautiful night.â
Ladybug rolled her eyes before taking a seat and gesturing for Chat to sit back down next to her. âItâs nice to see you too, kitty. But I canât stay for long.â
Chat Noirâs smile fell before plopping himself next to his lady and clearing his throat. âAre you busy tonight?â he asked, realizing the disappointment in his voice. âNot that I canât handle patrol by myself! And if thereâs something you need to do, you can totally go do that.â
A light-hearted giggled escaped Ladybugâs mouth. âAs much as I appreciate your concern, you know I canât tell you to pro-â
â-tect our identities. I know. But you know that I care about you even without the mask. Whoeverâs behind there, I still lo-â he cut himself off. âAll Iâm trying to say is that itâs not the end of the world if I know one detail about you. The real you.â
Ladybug stared at Chat for a few silent seconds, her lips pressed together in contemplation. She sighed, choosing her words carefully. Even though she knew it was a bad idea, something about his tone made her give in. âYou know the bakery over on 12 Rue Gotlib?â
Chat nodded. His mom used to love their stuff. It was a rare treat he received, usually after more draining photoshoots, coming home to a box of chocolate croissants from Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie. After his motherâs passing, he hadnât even thought of the small business. A sudden craving for sweets came over him.
âWell, sometimes I help out over there. Iâm not an employee or anything, but the owners let me take care of the smaller tasks. Like delivering cakes or working the register,â she said, her voice turning less professional and more care-free. A soft expression blossomed on her face, making Chatâs heart melt.Â
Finally. He knew something about the woman he was so helplessly in love with. It wasnât much, but it was a start. It was enough. Chat smiled. âThank you for telling me. You can go if you need. I can handle it if Mr.Pigeon gets akumatized again.â
Ladybug laughed. He loved her laugh. âSee you later kitty! Bug out!â And then she was gone.
Chat found himself staring after her with a lovesick smile. âBye mâlady.âÂ
Clearing his throat, Chat turned around and once again started jumping from roof to roof. Landing on top of his own manor, he was about to swing back into his room, but a sudden hunger stopped him. He knew Nathalie would call him to supper soon, but if he was going to end up eating alone, he was at least going to eat something he wanted.Â
Not that he disliked the meals provided to him by his chef, but the diets and cleanses got a little overwhelming at times. And heâd be lying if he said he didnât miss the taste of a certain flaky, delicious pastry.Â
Before he could even process what he was doing, Chat felt himself making his way to 12 Rue Gotlib. Staring at the lit up windows and catching a whiff of the sweet aroma, he suddenly dropped down and was standing in front of the cute building. Peeking inside through the glass door, Chat caught a glimpse of a girl sitting at the counter, idly doodling in a notebook.Â
Something about her--her eyes, her dreamy intensity she had aimed at whatever she was drawing, or the way she looked like she needed someone to talk to-- drew him in. Chatâs breath got caught in his throat as she glanced up, causing him to dart into the dark shadows beside the building. He thought for a moment.
âPlagg, claws in.â
The small kwami that was just in his ring shot out. âAdrien? What are you doing?âÂ
âI just wanted to go in for something to eat. I promise Iâll be quick,â Adrien entreated, looking at his supernatural friend with pleading eyes.
Plagg sighed. âFine. But once we get home, I want cheese,â he said before going to hide in Adrienâs overshirt.
Adrien took a deep breath and smiled--and in he went.Â
The girl in the bakery looked up from her notebook, immediately closing the book in front of her and smiling politely. âHi! How can I help you?â Her voice was as sweet as the atmosphere around them. The way her eyes sparkled made it impossible to look away. She was gorgeous.
Adrien smiled back at her, taking extra careful steps. She looked so delicate that the blond couldnât help but put extra effort into being as gentle with every movement. âHello,â he finally said. His tone was soft, and made his voice sound more silky.
Adrienâs eyes wandered around the small bakery, everything looking delectable. His mouth watered with every new item he noticed.Then he saw the chocolate croissants. His finger pressed against the glass directly in front of them. âTwo please.â
The girl nodded. She grabbed a box and a bag and began packing Adrienâs order. Meanwhile, Adrien racked his brain trying to think of something to say. But before he could even come up with a coherent thought, the girl was already handing him the bag. âItâs on me. You look like youâve had a rough day. I hope it gets better.â
Adrien stared wordlessly at her. âOh, thank you. I just havenât been here in years, so itâs a little strange being back.â
The girl hummed in response before speaking. âWhyâd you stop coming?â
âMy mom died.â
Adrien mentally slapped himself in the face. The slightly taken back expression on the girl made him feel even worse.
But then she returned to the kind smile she had before. âIâm sorry for your loss. Feel free to come in anytime, okay? Iâll have a warm croissant ready for you every time.â
He stared at her. âI...never got your name.â
âMarinette. Yours?â She looked back at him expectedly.
âAdrien. Adrien Agreste,â he replied a smile finally painting itself back on his face.Â
âAdrien? Like from that one ad?â she asked, giggling.
Adrien laughed along with her. âYeah, exactly like the one from the ad.â
Then a woman walked in from the other room, looking like an older version of Marinette. Probably her mother, Adrien thought.
âWell, it was nice to meet you Adrien. Hopefully Iâll see you again, goodnight.â Marinette waved, before disappearing behind the wall guarding what seemed to be the kitchen. Adrien waved back, not that she could see him do so. Without another word, Adrien left.
He walked back to his home while the sun set behind him. Plagg floated alongside his companion with a knowing smile. He knew who Adrien just met, and it killed Plag that he couldnât tell anyone.
 It was maybe 7 P.M. and Adrien knew someone would probably check on him soon. The bag of boxed croissants hung around his wrist, tempting him to eat one right there. But he waited.
âPlagg, claws out.âÂ
The small black cat had a look of dread before he was sucked back into the silver ring. Once Adrien was back as Chat noir, he jumped to his room just in time to hear a knock on his bedroom door. âAdrien? Time for dinner.â
âIâll be right out!â he yelled before transforming back and heaving out a held breath. The croissants were set on his desk and he readjusted himself. Plagg flew out, his intentioned set on the mini-fridge filled with camembert.
Well heâs all set, Adrien thought as he opened his door and started downstairs. His thoughts were filled with celebrations. Today was a good day.
(Quick Authorâs Note: Hi! Okay, this took me hours to write but I think I;m okay with it. Sorry for no Marichat in this part, but I wanted to set up a relationship between Marinette and Adrien first so he has a reason to visit her in the first place. Hope you enjoyed!)
#miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir#miraculous fanfic#miraculous ladybug#miraculous fandom#ladynoir#adrienette#marichat
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The great book of sayings
PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader
SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) heâll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.
Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.
WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroesâ abuse of power, smut.
A/N: Iâm trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so iâm trying Helen.
As always, let me know what you think!
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Chapter 11Â / Chapter 12
Out of sight, out of mind (interlude)
I
They disappear one night the same way they appeared.
Without a word.
It feels like waking up after a long dream. The way the sunrays enter your little kitchen, splashing your space in golden light looks almost ethereal, no longer their figures staining your white walls, standing out of place in the middle of your living room.
It feels a lot like the mornings after some heavy rainstorm.
Itâs over. You think, breathing heavy and tired.
The apartment is quiet and cold, foreign to you. It reminds you a little they way you feel in hospitals. Places without personality, places without any personal touch. Even when everything is in place; the blankets are neatly folded in the closet and your toothbrush is the only one in the bathroom (Toga surely took her time tiding everything up) but you cannot feel at ease in it.
Maybe you are no longer the same person that use to live alone in this place, because it doesnât feel like you belong inside the four walls that began to close too tight around you now, and even when you know you should run to the next police station and ask for help and protection because youâve been hostage in your own home for weeks, you canât get yourself to do it. It feels like a betrayal, somehow. Even when they held you captive, even when theyâve threat you and berated you. Even when there is no guarantee they would not be back to end the job after what you did to Dabi, after what happen with Shigaraki.
He looked like he wanted to hurt you last time.
Sorrow soft and silent start to rise, your heart breaking slowly with realization, smothering you, drowning you gently as you stand alone in the middle of your home, because they will never be back.
He will never be back.
Itâs fineâŠIâmâŠsafe. Iâm safe.
You feel the jarring stab of grief, your heart cracking open under the pressure and the loneliness youâve been trying to keep under control all this time, so you let out a shaking sob, finally admitting to yourself the ugly truth.
This is more than a little crush.
More like falling in love.
And your sweetheart has red eyes like jewels and a starved need for ruin.
So, you curl in a corner of your couch, hugging a pillow that smells way too much like soap and leather, finally allowing yourself to cry because this is painful, the kind of infatuation that can get you killed, that can destroy your life and ruin you. Him never coming back is a gift made of grief and poison, but youâll take it because you know this is what you get in exchange of an attachment like this for a man who does nothing but harbor resentment inside the dark pit that is his chest.
You cry your eyes out, you cry desperate and lonely, holding tight to the pillow that still smells like him, no longer trying to suppress the nasty wound his gaze carved into your heart the moment his eyes met yours.
You cry because you think he hates you, because he didnât just decide to go. Shigaraki choose to run away from this just to spite you and your infatuation because he wanted to stab you back. Because thatâs the kind of man he is, thatâs the kind of man that you allowed to hold grip onto your heart.
So, you stay curled in the corner of your little couch, sobbing and weeping over the painful mess youâve made, wishing for the kiss you didnât get the chance to steal and swearing that if you ever see him again, youâll squeeze that devious grin out of his sharp face with your bare hands because if he wanted to hurt you by leaving without a word, then he should be fucking proud.
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II
He wasnât joking when he asked her if she could handle rough.
âOh my godâ she sobs, inked tears staining her cheeks.
She looks like a mess, but he prefers it that way. He favors that sheâs different, a complete opposite with her heavy makeup and revealing clothes, her smudged lipstick painting her chin and her breasts bouncing heavy, scaping her torn little dress. A perfect depiction of ruined and lewd.Â
She gags when he squeezes her neck hard, his index fingers curled as he yanks her body against the brick wall, too angry to care for his companion. No. He just wants to thrust into her as fast and rough as he can so he can get off the soon.
âOh my-â she pants trying to hold herself against the wall, but he pulls her neck to him, pressing her back to his chest and then he yanks forward and bites her hard in the shoulder, his teeth leaving a purple mark on her skin.
âShut up.â He grunts maddened when she sobs and squirms against his body, her smell entering his nostrils, making him gag instantly because he cannot stand the cheap perfume mixed with cigarettes, sweat and sex.
He cannot stand the smell of her hair, nor the shape of her body, or the height difference.
He cannot stand her lewd screaming.
So, he covers her mouth with his hand and shut his eyes tightly closed before resuming his brutal animalistic pacing, trying not to think in the salty flavor of her skin in his mouth. He just needs his release; itâs been a while since he gave himself to this kind of pleasure and for all things heâs ever done, he never fucked this angry before.
Tomura thinks heâs not particularly sexual on a daily basis. He doesnât go walking around thinking about the next time he gets laid, not when heâs never been that interested in girls anyway, because he justâŠdoesnât like things nor people. So, his approach on sex is more like a task to be filled if anything else (like eating), rarely relying on another body since he doesnât want to be touched at all. Now, of course heâs done it now and then, sometimes paying for it, sometimes a nightstand after some vodka in a seedy bar, but always quick to dispatch the person involved.
For Tomura, sex is about him wanting something and obtaining it the easiest way possible to just keep on with his life.
Or at least thatâs how it was, but some reason heâs been feeling incredibly starved for it lately, and after being in a heck of a terrible mood and some heated lash out at his crew out of nowhere, he decided to pick his anger and put it somewhere else before killing one of his comrades.
Now, the woman is drooling all over his hand with all the choking, making him feel nauseous so he lets go of her and just digs his fingers on her hip keeping his index up, his long nails clawing at her skin, making her whine, squeezing him tight in reflex.
She tries to catch his wrist to move one of his hands to her breast, but he yanks away to pull her hair, growling a curse against her ear, swallowing hard.
This feels so wrong.
Itâs not the right cup size.
Itâs not the right smell.
Itâs not the right height.
Itâs not the right woman.
The mechanic friction is finally working its wonders because Tomura feels his low abdomen tighten before finally getting off.
No, he doesnât see stars, nor grunts in feverish pleasure. He doesnât taste her neck nor smiles when he cums. As soon as he releases, he shoves the woman as far away from him, removing the condom with disgust and decaying it (the thought of feeling her bare wet cunt against his naked skin revolving his guts).
He adjusts his clothes before throwing the woman some cash and just walks away, concluding that this was the most unsatisfying fuck in worldâs history.
Tomura looks at his hands, feeling the sticky sensation of her saliva and her sweat, troubled because his face itâs super itchy but he feels so disgustingly dirty, that he doesnât even need to smell them to know that her musky tacky perfume now lingers on his palms.
Maybe if I rub my hands, I can decay it away. He thinks, trying his hypothesis to no avail. âkay, that was pointless.
He manages to rub the fabric of his sleeve against his brow until the skin begins to show red dots of blood as he thinks seriously that he could kill for a hot shower, even when heâs not the cleanest guy around (he showers when he can. If he canât do it, then he just doesnât think about it), but he canât stand the way the prostituteâs scent remains on him like a sin, and the thought is so ridiculous, because heâs done plenty of horrible disturbing shit in his life to now feel all guilty and nasty for a âless-than-mediocreâ fuck.
So, he walks away, utterly unsatisfied. His anger dragging behind him, leaving a bloodied mess of chaos and longing for something far brighter than a rough fuck behind some lost alley, because he wants more than that. He wants the name, the body and the holy spirit that inhabits the girl with dangerous gaze and healer hands. He wants her violence, her anger and wild bravado, all for him to feaster and be consumed by it.
A violent delight that he canât afford, not when heâs busy surviving until he finds the doctor or his masterâs weapon, so he repeats himself that his infatuation, this sickness will disappear eventually, he just needs to get his priorities straight and focus.
Heâll do it, time will get everything in place again.
Cold creeps into him, the city lights filling the streets between car noises and people returning their homes. All of them busy minding their own lives, completely unaware of the hooded serial killer walking by, quietly sneaking into the fire escape of some old building. Â
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III
Internal medicine is one of those courses that drains every bit of life out of you. Arguably the hardest in a career full of hards, you now live under the constant threat of failure because this shit is a monster, and you know the statistics too well to not being aware that this course has the highest rate of reps in all the damn faculty.
So, you enter your uni mode; sugar-rush based diet and coffee like the world is ending to keep your brain functioning like is a nuclear reactor, sleeping four hours at nights and barely dreaming. Of course, itâs not just that class, is that you have three more besides that one, all of them of high difficulty for you to rejoice in your misery, so yeah. You live like a zombie.
Iâm going to be rich; Iâm going to be rich; Iâm going to be rich⊠You repeat to yourself every morning after showering, watching your body in front of the mirror, admiring the sharp angles and purple eyebags that already began to claim your face.
Oh, and the hair loss due to stress is just the cherry on top of the cake, really.
Yes, your brain is at the brim of collapse right now, but classes start again, and your friends are there to suffer with you and it makes you feel accompanied and secure. Is just another semester of tears, panic, pizza and everything that implies to be a twenty something student, so you are thankful nonetheless, because you donât have the time to think about the other thingâŠ
You donât think about it.
You donât really think about it.
You donât even think about it.
And you donât say the name either, you refuse because youâll do anything to forget about him, anything to erase the memory of his dark figure like a shadow against your white kitchen, too clever and insolent for your own good.
But itâs okay, you donât think of him, or his slender fingers taking the bishop to strike down your king, and the way his dry lips curve upward before some smartass remark. You donât think of his lean body towering over you, touching yours in so many places but none at the same time.
No, you donât think of him while awake, but sometimes he visits your dreams to terrify you with his cadaveric hands and his face hidden by his hair. Ready to strike you down, a hand extended in motion to decay you into oblivion.
Sometimes he hovers over you, kissing your neck while ravaging you, incredibly close and raw and intimate, his mouth snarling dirty words youâll never dare to say out loud. Dreams where his warm chest press against your naked body and your lips sings lewd lullabies just for him, welcome him to feaster on your skin with your face nuzzling against his scarred cheek, covering your face with his silver hair.
Sometimes he just sits in your kitchen as the sunlight reflects over his milky locks. His hand holding his cheek over the table in serene expression, calling your name to play again as the black king spins between his delicate fingers.
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IV
Tomura has a meeting with this new allied Twice found, like three days from now.
Heâs not particularly excited about it, surely, itâs just another capo wannabe with grandeur delusions, but it could be worth it. Maybe he could get some money out of it since the league is completely broken after his senseiâs incarceration. They are in desperate need of a hideout, now more than ever since Kurogiri vanished and heâs sure the heroes must have captured him. (Thinking about this is pointless anyway because he doesnât have the means to get him back)
Minding his own business, he walks with his hoodie on, passing between civilians like heâs one of them, completely invisible when he sees her.
It catches him by surprise. His heart stopping dead on its tracks, wide eyes and tight lips, uncertainty filling him all of the sudden, but heâs accustomed to make hiding spots out of nowhere, so he gets behind some store sign where he can watch her safely.
She stands outside a coffee shop, animatedly talking with some guy who wears the same clinic uniform that she has on. A school mate maybe? Sheâs an intern in a hospital so, they are probably on shift. Another doctor like her.
She looks tired and paler, but beautiful, nonetheless. The way her lips move give away sheâs talking about something clinic, because her face has that firm expression she always does when sheâs being professional.
She already looks like a doctor and God knows heâd gladly be sick every day of his life if sheâs the one to treat him.
His feelings betray him. He was sure after a month she would be completely out of his system by now, this stupid illness already cured, but shit just doesnât go away. Â It pisses him off to no end because sheâs not worth the aggravation. Câmon, sheâs just another boring normal civilian, she doesnât do anything important or interesting. Sheâs not remarkable in any way that serves him, because not even her quirk is truly useful. Not when it threatens to kill her every time she uses it.
And looking her objectively, sheâs not even that pretty, but somehow, heâs torn between his desire to make her see him and get as far away from her he can.
Searing jealousy pierces him, hate raw and jarring dripping from between his ribs when the man leans over and whisper something that makes her laugh and for a moment, he seriously thinks heâs going to kill him right there, no quirk needed because he would just love to gut him out in plain view for her to see what he thinks of her stupid friend.
He hates the man, but he hates her more because she dares to laugh, she dares to enjoy life and people meanwhile he crawls hungry and cold between ruined places.
Like sensing his glare, she suddenly turns her head with her eyes directed to the spot where he hides, her expression changing from joyful to confused in seconds, making him laugh because even when heâs sure she cannot see him, she knows heâs there and it feels like sheâs tied to him somehow.
Her face gives away disappoint when she fails to catch him and the thought of her grieving after he left delights him, but heâs sworn to let her behind, so he rejoices for a moment in this little victory of his pettiness over her charms, before turning away from her, fully believing that this is the last time he thinks of her.
Chapter 13
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Hey lovely readers! since English is not my native language and writing Shigaraki is kinda hard because he changes and grows, and because he usually says many things about himself, but then he goes and do completely different things (like when he says he hates everything, but CLEARLY heâs fond of twice and stuff like that) so much in manga, it would be lovely to know what you think of this! I think itâs the only way to be better at something really, So, any questions, comments and concerns, please feel free to comment!
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geralt and roachie
@avrupasyaâ asked for a fic/continuation of this post of mine, where modern au geraltâs roach is a stuffed animal. sortve told in, like, vignettes, i suppose?
[read on ao3 if you like!]
The one constant in Geralt's short, stressful life, is Roachie. The little brown stuffed horse, named after a fish with similarly colored eyes("I'm gonna' study animals when I'm big!"Â he proclaims to anyone who will listen, which isn't many, so he whispers it into his horse's mane instead) has been with him long enough that he has no memories without her in some peripheral corner-- clenched in his fist, sitting on his blanket, overflowing from a fit-to-bursting pocket of his shorts. She's been with him through two houses now. He likes to think that she was given to him the day he was born, that they'd never been separated, but he can hardly ask anyone for confirmation. It's just one of those certainties you hold in your heart as a child.
So of course, for his seventh birthday, a dog eats her.
(The kicker is that it isn't even his birthday. It's a government assigned day that may or may not be in the vicinity of the actual day of his birth. It's not like he was dropped off at the fire station with paperwork or anything. He is vaguely, sort of, aware of this, just enough that it feels like an extra kick while he's down.)
She is utterly and completely beyond repair. Her shape isn't even recognizable, and for all his inconsolable tears, she's gathered up and unceremoniously dumped in the trash.
He cries when he finds her, cries through dinner, cries late into the night, cries until he is informed by one of his caretakers through what seems to be a rather impressive headache that if he doesn't stop crying, he would be "given something to cry about," which...
He already had something to cry about. Hence the crying.
He chews on his fist, however, startled into silence by the shouting, and hiccups softly into his pillow. Even as he's left alone, in the dark, he can't settle-- the thought of Roach thrown away like garbage is one that just doesn't sit right with him. He waits until the house is silent, into the wee hours of the morning, then sneaks on silent feet to the kitchen. He rustles through the trash as quietly as he can, pulling out pieces of his old friend, now not simply in tatters but also covered in what was left of dinner.
He nearly loses it at the sight of her, destroyed and filthy. Tears well in his eyes, blurring the world around him, and he sniffles once, weakly, but he doesn't want to wake anyone, and who knows what they'd do if they found him rooting through the trash, so he steels his resolve. Stomps down on the urge to give into another round of crying fits.
The night air is cold against his hot, sticky face. It's refreshing, but he barely notices it as he shuffles into a far corner of the yard. He digs a shallow hole with his hands and reverently lays her body inside. He covers her back up, tamps the earth back down with his palms, and then sits back on his heels. He's a little too young to fully understand what goes on in a funeral-- he's never seen one before, after all-- but he's seen TV, and he knows you're supposed to say something nice, so he says something to the effect of "Roachie was the bestest friend, an' the prettiest horse, there ever was in the whole entire world," and then sits in silence for a few moments longer, sniffling in the cold night air.
He suddenly recalls headstones, and he doesn't have any rocks-- doesn't know how to carve words into one-- but he does see a stick nearby. He shoves it in the ground like a stake and looks over his work. About as good as any grave dug by a seven-year-old could hope to be. He stays there until the cold starts making the tip of his nose and the joints of his fingers hurt, and then he stumbles back inside and curls up in bed.
He's moved to a new house a week later.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He starts skipping lunches. He goes to school hungry, and comes home hungrier, and devours his dinners in this new house voraciously.
Every penny that would be spent on school lunches gets shoved in his pocket, then consolidated and shoved in his sock drawer when he gets home. Once he's gotten a decently-sized pile, he gathers it all up in his tiny little fists, shoves it in his pockets, and walks all the way to the local thrift store.
He'd gotten it into his head, somehow, that Roach still existed. Some childish idea that'd popped into his head as a comfort, and that got ingrained in his mind as he repeated it to himself over and over at night. He'd seen the rags, of course, what'd become of her after the dog had had it's way, he knew she was buried in the dirt a state away... but the core "soul" of his Roachie, that'd been with him and loved him and cared for him, was out there, in some other brown stuffed horse, waiting to be found again.
He marches into the toy section in the back of the thrift store with the determination of a soldier on a rescue mission.
And at the bottom of the bin, underneath all the teddy bears and off-brand babydolls, is one single brown stuffed horse.
Logic would dictate a coincidence-- but to his little eyes it looks a lot like magic.
He snatches her up instantly and runs to the front of the store, lest anything come and rip her from his arms again. He has to stand on his tip-toes, but he pushes her up on the counter, then pushes over the pile of money and asks if it's enough. The old lady looks at his pile, then pushes her glasses down the bridge of her nose to get a better look at the tag on the horse's ear. She squints, then glances at his wide, desperate eyes. "Well!" She announces. "Would you look at that. That's the exact right amount. Must be fate." Then winks down at him.
He gasps loudly, eyes getting impossibly wider. Fate-- Roach really had been waiting for him! He reaches up and makes a grabbing motion with his hands. "Can, can I... can I hold her, then?"
"She's all yours." The woman says gently, and places it in his waiting arms.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Roach stays with him all the way to the doorstep of the Kaer Morhen Home for Wayward Boys. He's thirteen, and she has a few weak seams, a few patches where the fur's been worn away. She's heavily loved, and he hasn't spent a night without her since they were "reunited". He's worn as well-- tired of the constant cycle of new places, new "families".
A few months later, with no prospect of leaving in sight, he takes back his wish for someplace permanent.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He rooms with a boy named Eskel, who is about the only bright spot in Kaer Morhen, as far as Geralt is concerned. He is only mildly mocking of a thirteen year old sleeping with a stuffed animal every night, and it's mostly companionable ribbing, so even though the thought of anyone mocking Roachie gets under his skin, he lets it go. Eskel is his friend, after all. Of course, though, because that's the way of the world, some older boys overhear Eskel's teasing.
He comes back to his and Eskel's room that night, expecting to find Roach under his pillow-- he's too old to carry her everywhere, now, so that's where she lives-- and instead she's strewn across his bed.
He's old enough, now, to know that it maybe looks a little ridiculous from the outside, but he's too upset to be self-conscious, and Eskel is nothing if not understanding as Geralt sobs into his shoulder that night, quiet except for the occasional little soothing noise as he strokes a hand up and down Geralt's trembling back.
It's unsalvageable, at least for their inexperienced hands. Neither of them is a seamstress. After lights out, Geralt sneaks out-- this time with Eskel in tow-- and creeps into the backyard. Just like last time, he silently digs a hole and places her inside. That's what you do with Roaches, after all-- you bury them, then you find her all over again. The idea of Roach not existing out there, somewhere, is inconceivable.
He curls up next to Eskel that night, and it isn't the same, and he doesn't quite sleep... but it helps.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
His first Roach had been about the side of a Beanie Baby, and had been a light, palomino sort of color. His second had been more the size of a Build-A-Bear, with slightly stiff limbs and brown fur so dark it was nearly black. The third time he finds Roach, she's a reddish sort of Bay, peeking out at him from behind a large Lego set on the thrift store shelf.
He'd already searched the bins three times and had come up empty-handed, not even a miscolored unicorn, or something else close-but-wrong to show for his efforts, and... there she is, sitting right there, like it's some sort of game. He gasps, and Eskel turns away from the slightly melted Barbies he'd been toying with at the sound. Geralt shoves the box aside and grabs at her, cradling her carefully in his hands. She's already a little on the worn side this time around-- one eye's a bit loose-- and she's right in the middle, size-wise, compared to her other two incarnations.
He loves her instantly.
It must show on his face, because Eskel laughs a little and throws an arm around his shoulders. "So, is this the fated horse, then?" He asks, teasing.
"Yeah," Geralt replies breathlessly, too excited to meet the teasing tone back, "I think so."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Lambert shows up when he's thirteen and they're both sixteen.
He's loud, and violent, and instantly hones in on Geralt's preternaturally graying hair and the shock of white growing out of the back of his head(poliosis, born from stress, though none of them know that term). He's inhumanly annoying, a real pain in the ass, and somehow, against all odds, Geralt and Eskel both instantly adore him.
Maybe it's the way he talks back to their "caregivers", or the way he sometimes gets into fights on smaller kids' behalf, who knows, but the three of them form a little clique fairly quickly. Lambert pretends it's begrudging, but it's not hard to see that it's mostly a front. He's a brat, through and through, but he's their brat.
Which is why he's even in their room-- they're all hanging out, Geralt flipping through a book and Eskel attempting to study, while Lambert fiddles with Roach. He turns her over in his hands, examines the spot where the loose eye had fallen off a year back, picks at one of her loose seams. "I just don't get it," he says, scrunching up his nose, "like. What does it do?" He asks.
"Be careful with her." Geralt says, flicking a glance over at Lambert before returning to his book. "And she doesn't do anything. She's a stuffed animal, she just sits there."
"Well, yeah, no duh." Lambert replies, rolling his eyes. "I'm not stupid." Eskel mumbles 'Could've fooled me,' from his own bed, and Lambert hisses back 'Watch it,' and kicks his leg as he snickers. "I mean, what do you do with it? Give it wots and wots of hugs and kissews?" He asks mockingly. He's holding her by the front legs, wiggling them up and down like some sort of dance and shoving her in Geralt's direction. He's about to tell Lambert to knock it off, trying to bat him out of the way to continue reading when, one of her legs just... pops off. There's a stunned moment where Lambert just stares at the two pieces in his hands.
A strangled noise works its way out of Geralt's throat, and he snatches Roach out of Lambert's hands.
"I-- I didn't mean..." He tries, looking between Geralt and Eskel helplessly, but the tears are already welling up as Geralt clutches her closer to his chest.
"Oh, shit," Eskel mutters and scrambles to his side drawer, which hides in the bottom a small sewing kit. Lambert slips out of the room in between Geralt sobbing and Eskel rushing to reattach the limb.
The fabric is weak enough around the seam, and Eskel is inexperienced enough at sewing, that the limb is noticeably shorter than the rest, but she's whole and in one piece by the end of the night.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Lambert awkwardly shuffles in place in their doorway the next day. "I-- fuck, man, I really didn't mean to..." He mutters, rubbing at the back of his neck.
Geralt holds Roach a little closer. "It's fine," he says tersely, "but no one's allowed to touch Roach anymore. Ever." He says firmly.
"Yeah, no, that works." Lambert tentatively steps into the room and then, when he isn't shooed out and no one starts crying, grows a bit bolder, sitting down on the edge of Eskel's bed. "I mean, except for nursemaid Eskel over here, right?" He says jokingly, and earns himself a punch on the shoulder from Eskel.
"Piss off, ya' little brat." He mutters fondly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Years pass and Geralt and Eskel age out of Kaer Morhen. They get an apartment, split the costs, because they've basically never not shared a room, and they need all the shoulders to lean on they can get. All they really get is each other, so they settle for that. A few more years and Lambert is shoved out at the healthy age of eighteen-- just like they were. He's invited to their little apartment, and he's loud, and complains that he went from one roommate to two, bitches about how they're both sticks-in-the-mud who don't know how to have fun, and that they snore, and that he'll never get a good night's rest.
It's exactly what they were missing, and Roach watches all of it from her spot on the shelf near Geralt's bed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Then, Geralt meets Jaskier.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The first time Jaskier comes over, Eskel and Lambert are both at work, so they have the apartment to themselves. Geralt opens the fridge to pull out two beers, and Jaskier flounces past him towards the shared bedroom. "I'm gonna' go root through your stuff without permission." He announces teasingly as he opens the door and slips inside.
Geralt snorts and rolls his eyes, taking his time popping open both bottles. He hears an exaggerated 'oooohh, interesting,' from the other room and carries the beers to his room. "There's really not much here to see." He says as he bumps the door open with his hip.
"Oh, I don't know about that." Jaskier replies from his place on Geralt's bed. "Who's this little cutie, huh?" His tone is light, teasing, and he's got Roach in his lap, playing with her ears.
Panic crawls up Geralt's throat-- she's old, now, and her ears were always a weak point. It's been years since he was sixteen, and her leg had come off so easily back then, so now... he shouts something strangled at Jaskier, maybe 'no' or 'stop', he isn't really sure, and Jaskier looks up with wide, startled eyes. He rushes over and drops the bottles on his night stand before scooping Roach out of Jaskier's hands. He doesn't yank-- terrified of what might happen to her stitching if he did-- but he isn't nice about it either.
He ignores Jaskier's stammering entirely, swiping his hand across her shelf to make sure there isn't any dust, before carefully sitting her precisely where she'd been. His hands tremble a little as they hover in the air in front of her, waiting to make sure she didn't fall, glancing over her to make sure nothing was out of place, that she still had all her limbs. After a moment, he lets out a shaky breath and steps back from the shelf.
"No one touches Roach." He says firmly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Jaskier starts, and Geralt whirls on his heel, grabs Jaskier's wrist.
"Swear it." He says, squeezes Jaskier's wrist tight. "Swear you won't touch her."
"I won't." He sounds a little mystified at the afternoon's sudden turn, but he gently places his other hand over Geralt's. "I promise."
Geralt deflates a little with relief, loosens his grip and lets Jaskier's wrist slip from between his fingers. "She's..." he starts quietly, eyes averted, guilt and embarrassment creeping in over his sudden outburst. "She's really fragile. I... I didn't mean to... just, please don't touch her." He finishes weakly.
Jaskier agrees once more, reaches out and squeezes Geralt's hand reassuringly. They drink their beer in the living room.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Months pass and his friendship with Jaskier deepens.
Then, he meets Yen.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Hmm." She says thoughtfully, arms crossed over her chest. "I like your stupid little horse."
Her tone is light, teasing, and it strikes him right through the heart all the same. But, at least she isn't trying to touch Roach. He pulls her down into his bed, and the conversation is forgotten.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They dance around each other like that for far longer than either reasonably should. Fuck, then fight, then silent treatment, only to fall back into bed and start the cycle anew.
He cares, really he does, and he knows Yen cares back, in her own way, but it's just all so... much. It's a little hard to take, most nights. As he lays there, unable to sleep, he catches sight of Roach out of the corner of his eye. His bed is cold and lonely, and thoughts of Yen won't stop swirling around his mind, and he just... he just wants to feel settled. Before he can talk himself out of it, he's carrying Roach down off her perch and curling around her to sleep with his old friend for the first time in a long time.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A few months later, Jaskier uses his spare key to open the door to Geralt's apartment after a few rounds of knocking goes ignored.
He's got snacks, and a six-pack of beer that he deposits in the fridge, before calling out into the apartment, announcing his presence. He gets back a muffled 'in here,' and opens the door to the bedroom to find Geralt planted on the middle of his bed, Roach cradled carefully to his chest. "Sorry," he says weakly, sniffling into his palm, "I- I guess I forgot we were supposed to hang out."
Jaskier's by his side in a moment, kneeling in front of him on the bed, gently brushing his hair out of his face. "Oh, Geralt, what happened?"
He shrugs a little, helplessly. "Yen and I broke up." He pauses for a moment, rubbing little circles into the back of Roach's head, and then adds, "For good this time."
Jaskier reaches out and gathers Geralt up in his arms, lets him tuck his face in the crook of his neck. "I'm so sorry..." He mumbles, nosing into Geralt's hair.
"It's fine," Geralt replies weakly, voice cracking, "it was bound to happen sooner or later. We're kinda'... volatile."
Jaskier huffs out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, that you were..." The past-tense on Jaskier's tongue hits Geralt like a bolt to the chest, and he chokes out a sob. "Oh," Jaskier croons back, reaching up to cradle the back of his head, "oh, it's alright... it'll be alright..."
As he collapses forward into Jaskier's arms, he lets himself be soothed by Jaskier's voice, his arms enveloping him, and the softness of Roach's fur beneath his fingers.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A few months later they kiss for the first time there, on his bed, in full view of Roach, which doesn't occur to him until later, but once it does it makes some small part of him wish he'd turned her around. She's seen enough of him, she doesn't need front-row seats to... that.
Then he realizes that she was also there for Yennefer, and he feels a sudden surge of guilt mixed with a healthy dose of shame.
His poor little Roachie.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The first time they fuck in his room, Geralt pauses with his hands on Jaskier's hips, blushing faintly. "Do... do you mind if I...?" He asks nervously.
"What is it, dearest?" Jaskier asks lowly, smoothing his hands up and down Geralt's bare chest, eyes all want and smoldering heat.
Geralt clears his throat awkwardly and lets go of Jaskier for a moment to reach up and carefully turn Roach so she was facing the wall. It's deeply embarrassing, but he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it ever since he had the realization about his time with Yen. He turns back around, expecting to be mocked, but Jaskier looks nothing except fond.
He laughs a little, but not meanly, and wraps his arms around Geralt's neck. "Good call," he says, pressing a kiss into Geralt's cheek, "don't want to subject poor Roachie to anything she didn't sign up for."
The complete lack of judgement, paired with the nickname, has a surge of affection swelling in Geralt's chest. He grabs Jaskier by the hips once more, and gently tosses him onto the bed. Jaskier laughs again, delighted, and opens his arms to grab at Geralt, who happily follows after him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Geralt, look at this!" Jaskier announces from the couch, tilting his phone screen to the side as Geralt scoots closer and hooks an arm around his shoulders for easier viewing. "It's a stuffed animal repair service, but she runs a blog with pictures of the process and calls herself Doctor Beth. Isn't that the cutest thing?"
"Hmm." Geralt hums back. He glances at the screen, scrolls a little, but he quickly abandons it in favor of burying his face in Jaskier's neck and depositing kisses along its length.
Jaskier laughs and snuggles closer, but holds out his phone screen more insistently. "C'mon, Geraaalt," he whines, "you have to actually look. It's cute! You have to say it's cute."
Geralt flicks his eyes towards the screen once more, then away just as quickly as he deadpans the word "Adorable." right into the curve of Jaskier's jaw.
"You are the worst!" He announces, but he's grinning like a fool, and he turns his head into Geralt's affection all the same.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Once the kissing has died down, and Jaskier is seated side-saddle in Geralt's lap, he pulls his phone back out. "In all seriousness," he says, tucked up comfortably against Geralt's chest, "it's actually very interesting. She's really good at her job-- look at this, the bear's practically rags before she reconstructs it."
Instead of trying to distract Jaskier again, Geralt dutifully listens, watching the pictures as Jaskier flips through them. She is rather good, he has to admit, and there is something interesting in watching the stuffed animal go from rags to repaired, in the same way it's relaxing to watch an episode of How It's Made. He 'hmm's again, though it's a more thoughtfully, agreeing sort of âhmmâ this time.
"I've actually been following her blog for a little while now, and... I was just thinking..." Jaskier fiddles with the edge of his phone case, "maybe you could... send Roach to her, and--"
"No." He says, swift and firm. The playfulness has left his tone entirely, just the thought of sending Roach anywhere enough to make anxiety race through his chest and his palms turn clammy.
Jaskier's mouth twists into a frown. "Oh... sorry. I just... I know she's fragile and I thought this might help, so I--"
Geralt slides a hand up and down Jaskier's back soothingly. "It's alright. Thank you, for thinking of her, just... I... I can't."
He nods in return and straightens up to press a kiss to Geralt's cheek. "Alright, love, whatever you're comfortable with."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Now that Jaskier's said it, though, the thought won't leave Geralt's head. He scrolls through Doctor Beth's blog when he's alone, gets a feel for her track record.
Roachie is fragile now. Close to ten years with him, and she was already thin in some places before he got to her.
On the other hand, does he really trust some stranger on the internet to treat her right? What if she comes back wrong? What if, somehow, she doesn't come back Roach? He reaches out to run his thumb gently across her snout, looking to soothe himself, and watches as little tufts of fur come away under his feather-light touch.
He's already buried two Roaches. He really doesn't want to do again.
"Well, Roachie," he murmurs into the empty room, "third time's the charm, right?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He is the closest to a nervous wreck that Jaskier's ever seen him in the intervening weeks. He'd packed the box with Roach so delicately, gently surrounding her with bubble wrap so she didn't get knocked around and somehow lose pieces in shipping, and as soon as the box was shipped he took to pacing the apartment and checking his phone every twenty minutes. Jaskier thought it was endearing, if a bit worrying.
It drove Eskel and Lambert up a wall.
There were a lot of movie nights in those weeks in an effort to keep Geralt's mind off of things, but inevitably about halfway through the movie he'd get a bit of a distant look in his eyes and he'd reach down to feel his phone in his pocket, make sure it was where he'd be able to feel it if he got an email.
Waiting to confirm materials, what color cloth to use and what eye matched best with her other in his opinion, what to do about her now rather sparse tail and mane.
Jaskier would touch his arm gently, bring him back to the present, and he'd turn his attention back to the movie, maybe sling his arm around Jaskier's shoulders. It was nice, and very sweet to see him so very concerned, but Jaskier did wish he could do a little more to ease some of Geralt's worries.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
There are, as Jaskier recalls, a few posts where people had sent in video of the results, of them opening the box and seeing their little stuffed animal friend all fixed up. And he knows for a fact Geralt's going to be excited to see Roach again, so when the box finally arrives and Geralt sits down on the couch with it, Jaskier opens up the camera on his phone without much thought.
And then has to set it down almost immediately.
As soon as the box opens, before he could even get his hands on her, big, fat tears start rolling down Geralt's cheeks. Jaskier drops his phone on the table without even bothering to turn off the recording, rushing forward to envelop Geralt in a hug.
Geralt's hands grip the edge of the box so tightly his knuckles turn white, and Jaskier holds him closer, runs his fingers through Geralt's hair soothingly. "What is it, what's wrong?" He asks softly. Geralt shakes his head.
"She just-- she didn't even look this good when I first got her and I--" He's cut off by another sob, and Jaskier holds him a little tighter. "I just can't stop thinking about e- every time she... she broke and I couldn't fix her and I h- had to just... just buy a new one and I... I..."
"Shh, shhh..." Jaskier quiets him gently, pressing a kiss to his temple. "It's alright..."
"I know, I know, she just... she's like new, you know?" He says weakly into Jaskier's shoulder.
That gives Jaskier pause. "Love... are you," he asks incredulously, "are you crying because you're happy?" Geralt nods, and Jaskier can't help the little laugh that escapes him. "Oh, my dear heart..." He murmurs, almost sickeningly fond as he nuzzles into Geralt's hair. "Why don't you pick her up, then? I'm sure she missed you."
Geralt reluctantly pulls back from Jaskier's embrace to look down into the box.
She really does look good as new, and Geralt's almost afraid to touch her. Maybe the new stitching isn't as sturdy as it looks, maybe she'll fall apart in his hands, or maybe she just won't feel right... He sucks in a breath and carefully curls his hands around her. All his breath leaves him in a whoosh.
He holds her in his hands, and something he didn't even know was unsettled, settles in his chest.
As he presses her close to his chest, she still feels like Roach.
Except now she looks like herself again. Whole and complete and strong.
"Thank you," he turns to Jaskier and wraps an arm around him, tugging him in close while the other keeps a hold of Roach, "I never would've done this if you hadn't brought it up. I... Jask... thank you so much."
"Of course, love," he says gently, carding his fingers through Geralt's hair, "got to look out for dear Roachie... where would you be without her, hmm?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"You know, she's so much sturdier now that she's all fixed up." Jaskier points out gently, after a few quiet moments have passed. "She could handle... well. Being handled more, again. She doesn't have to live up on that shelf anymore."
Which, kind of had been the whole point, but Geralt hadn't thought it through in so many words. The tears come back with a vengeance and he sniffles into Jaskier's shoulder, clutches her to his chest firmer than he's dared to in years.
That night, he falls asleep with Jaskier behind him, and his old friend clutched in his arms, and it's maybe a little silly, a little childish, but it's the best sleep he's had in his life.
#witcher tag#writing tag#ogc tag#uh!!! hope u like it#also jaskier definitely gets to cuddle roach at some point now that she's all fixed up#also also. sorry if geralt seems like a crybaby here. i swear he's not its just that we only see him during the few times in his life#that he does cry#pinky promise lol
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