#I love Rosie so dearly. A few days ago I thought so hard about him that I got dizzy. Not in a joking way btw I actually started feeling

[hodiedodie]

Hey, reblog this and tell me in the tags the oc you're currently most focused on and in love with ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

#oc #I love hearing ppl talk about their ocs. If you're interestes mine rn is Rosetta Stone McGuffin. Goes by any pronouns #I love Rosie so dearly. A few days ago I thought so hard about him that I got dizzy. Not in a joking way btw I actually started feeling #so dizzy that I had to take a break to sit and then lay down

[iwaisuke]

confessions; but not remembering it

ft. kita shinsuke, sakusa kiyoomi x sick fem!reader

genre: fluff

masterlist

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and then i rushed bc i was getting tired 🙃 also. sakusa's is a little ooc. sorry ab that

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» the clean yet musty smell of rain filled the gym as the boys practiced. it was a surprisingly humid and rainy spring day today here in the country side of hyogo

» "achoo" you had been sneezing and coughing all day. you also had a terrible headache but took some medicine to see if it would help. the spring allergies really getting to you

» you didnt reay have the time to be worrying about yourself. As a 2nd year manager of the inarizaki team, (recommend by suna) and the boys working so hard practicing for nationals there was no way you'd let this little cold get in the way. you had to work just as hard as everyone else!

» "hold on, im about to hang up your jerseys to dry"

» "i got you guys some fresh towels!"

» "i can run and grab that coach. im headed that way anyways"

» the coach called for a short break to rest up for a bit. everyone was sore and exhausted from practicing every day. "here. i filled your water bottles up!" handing them to all the boys. "y/n you're all wet" akagi sounded concerned.

» "hm? oh its alright. I'll dry off in a minute. i took the shortcut to the drinking fountain to refill your waterbottles instead of taking the long way" you nonchalantly said. "so you ran through the rain like an idiot?" suna threw a clean towel over your damp hair and ruffled it. "suna!! stop!! you're gonna ruin my hair"

» "like i said. its alright" you reassured the boys.

» kita, on the other hand had noticed your fatigue. although he wasnt as perceptive on peoples feeling and thoughts as well as others, he could easily pick up signs like yours. he admired you dearly for how hard you always work for the team. how you willingly did anything to make them smile. how you always put others first before yours. needless to say, he had a bit of a crush on you.

» "l/n san. i think you should take a break too. there's no need for you to be running around for us while we're resting" kita assured you. "i still have a few things left on my list to do.. but afterwards I'll take a break!" kita let out a sigh. you were stubborn sometimes and kita knew you were the kind of person to not stop until you're finished.

» "I'll be right back. i gotta grab the laundry"

» making an excuse to leave, your heart was beating fast. you knew kita's words were the kind he'd say to anyone, but it made your heart feel fuzzy when he'd look out for you.

» the stone cold captain who you thought he was, actually was so kind. he was just a little awkward like you, and a little blunt with what he said sometimes. but you learned the great qualities he carries and how much he actually cares about others well being. he was a hard worker and you couldnt help but absentmindedly fall for the captain.

» running up the stairs to the second floor of the gym, you felt a shift in your step. head becoming dizzier than it was just 5 minutes ago. legs trembling, you started falling before feeling a presence behind.

» kita's arm wrapped around your waist, supporting you in efforts to not letting you fall over. "i told you to rest l/n san" kita said sternly. "you wont benefit anyone if you keep overworking like this."

» you knew kita was right, but you really didnt want to rest knowing you'll be letting the team down by not working hard.

» "i promise I'll rest as soon as im done with this one thing" pleading with kita. he let out a sigh, knowing you really wouldnt until you did finish so he allowed you to do so.

» finishing grabbing all of the dry jerseys and bringing them downstairs to pass out to everyone, you didnt really notice atsumu and osamu spiking volleyballs at each other until aran yelled

» "y/n! watch out!" honestly, you were too tired to move out of the way so you figured, it do be like that sometimes, and allowed the ball to hit you.

» or... so you had planned the ball to hit you.

» kita stood in front, blocking the impact of the spike that you had prepared yourself for. there was agitation in kita's eyes. more than you usually noticed when then twins were miss behaving. concern washing over, he looked you straight in the eyes

» "... is there something wrong kita san?" lifting up his hand to your forehead, he let out a sigh. "why didnt you tell me earlier you had a fever", then walking over to the coach meanwhile atsumu and osamu come over to apologise for being reckless.

» "get your stuff. we're going home" kita said bluntly.

» "huh? but practice is-"

» "please l/n san. for me"

» kita would only take yes for an answer this time. no if's ands or buts. so here you were, walking home with kita. only the sound of raindrops hitting your shared umbrella being heard.

» muscles starting to ache a little more and your legs becoming more tired than they were when you left the gym, you began to walk a little slower every step

» "get on my back l/n" "its ok kita san, i can walk. its already enough that you're walking me home" "i didnt ask if you wanted to. im telling you to"

» you couldnt tell if it was the fever that made your face warmer or if it was kita's words. nonetheless, you got on kita's back. he was a lot stronger than he looked and you couldnt help but stifen at being so close to your own crush like this.

» "relax. I'll make sure you get home." he reassured. you leaned into his back, warmth seeping in, your eyes began to feel heavy.

» "kita san" "yes?" "thank you for always watching out for me"

» a comfortable silence was met as the sound of rain filled your ears.

» "kita san" "hm?" "did you know..." your voice softened "i like you a lot kita san"

» did he hear you correctly? if he wasnt paying attention he wouldve missed what you had said, being drowed out through the pitter patter of water. now his heart thumping louder than ever before.

» "l/n san-" he was about to go on but was met with the gentle rise and fall of your chest and the soft snores of you on his back, knocked out from exertion. kita let out a light chuckle, finally relieved you were resting.

» you had missed the next day of school, but when you came back the whole volleyball team bombarded you with love.

» "WE'RE A FAILURE TO NOT NOTICE YOU FEELING SICK" atsumu cried. "how could we let our one and only precious manager get ill for taking care of us" akagi, clearly dissapointed in himself. "please let us know when we can take care of you too y/n" aran said.

» "its no big deal. really!" waving your hands in defense. "it was just a small cold. but i do have a question though"

» all the boys gathered around to hear what you had to say

» "how did i get home?? i really dont remember what happened after i almost got hit by atsumu"

» it shocked the guys honestly. you genuinely didnt remember a single thing due to your fever. "wait? you don't remember kita taking you home?" suna replied, your face becoming red. "k-kita san took me home-?" "yah. he left in the middle of practice to do so" osamu added.

» immediately, you got up to find the captain that apparently took you home the other day. he was in the storage closet cleaning and grabbing the equipment for todays practice.

» "kita san" "oh. l/n. glad you're feeling better" his smile brightened the musty closet. "about that, im sorry for troubling you and having you take me home the other day. i honestly dont remember what happened after i almost got hit by atsumu. my mind was really fuzzy that day, but im truly thankful for you going out of your way for me. it really means a lot"

» kita was dumbfounded. you really dont remember? "no need to apologize l/n. it was my responsibility as a captain. and afterall, what good would i be if i couldnt even take care of the person who means the most to me"

» your heart raced. 'person who means the most to me' ? cheeks blushing a rosy pink, you were internally thanking the musty store room from being dim.

» with arms full of equipment, kita walked by you and stopped.

» "by the way l/n san. did you know?"

» ears perking up at the vague yet familiar line

» "i like you a lot too l/n san"

» now we all know sakusa HATES germs and for the past week and a half, he's been telling you to keep up with washing your hands, wearing a mask at all times even when you eat omi it doesnt work like that. pls especially since you are prone to getting sick easily no matter how hygenic you are. your immune system just hated you. PERIODT

» you remembered sakusa scolding you for running out of hand sanitizer and then the next day you were out of commission. bed ridden with laryngitis, cough, slight fever, the whole works. it was like your body was making fun of you or something

» you texted komori, asking him to take notes in class for you and relay homework information while you were at home resting up. but there was one request you had and made komori PROMISE.

» DO NOT TELL SAKUSA YOU GOT SICK

» "he's probably gonna notice your absence y/n. he'll find out about it either way"

» "well if you dont tell him then he wont know. its not like he even cares about where i am like that"

» "thats what you might think. but i know he's gonna say something i can garuntee it"

» the next day at school, sakusa did notice your presence missing. it was quieter not having a 3rd person in the group of friends. not having you around to talk to him when komori was gone.

» pulling out his phone to text you, he asked where you were that day.

» "on a family trip :D !!! forgot to tell you, but I'll tell you all about it when i come back!" you wrote, attaching an old selfie of a different trip you went on to make it more believable.

» you had hoped this silly cold would get better in a day, but soon that day turned into 2 and then 3 and then 4... you pretty much missed the whole week of school at that point

» Friday rolled around and komori was on his phone all day. sakusa noticed his cousin fidget in his chair more than usual and it irked him to see him like that

» "what's with you today?" one eye raised, sakusa finally asked. "uhhh nothing really" komori wasnt very good at keeping secrets lets just start off with that, but he was trying his best.

» "well clearly somethings wrong. you're fidgeting." "well haven't you noticed somethings been different all week?" komori hinted

» sakusa sat there in thought. nothing's been different? he ate the same breakfast he usually does every morning. all his studies have been well. there were no tests this week so there was no reason to be anxious like komori was and even if there was, he would've done well anyways.

» "just tell me what it is." sakusa was starting to get annoyed. "y/n..." komori started. "y/n?" "do you know where she's been this week?"

» did you not tell komori about your family trip? you usually told komori everything, but then again you didn't tell him either until he asked you about it.

» "she said shes on a trip?" he nonchalantly said. komori's eyes started watering. "A TRIP TO THE HOSPITAL THATS WHAT IT IS" he blurted out. komori didnt mean to let it slip , he was just so worried about your well being.

» "hospital?? what are you talking about. did she get injured on her trip?" "no omi. shes been sick all week and her mom just texted me saying she went to the hospital today because shes had a fever for 3 days straight. there is no family trip"

» sakusa's heart shattered. you were sick and didnt even tell him?

» before both he and komori knew it, his legs were running faster to get to the hospital than he had ever imagined he could ever run.

» and there you were. fast asleep in a bed with an IV drip. your face flushed, forehead sweaty and shallow breaths escaping your chapped lips. you were a hot mess but sakusa didnt care. stepping to your bedside to greet your mother she explained to him that she had to go to work and asked if he could watch over you until she gets back.

» sakusa said yes without even hearing the whole thing. his heart and mind saying yes to whatever it took to get you to feel better.

» gosh how he hated hospitals, but what he hated even more was the fact that you were in the hospital and he didnt even know.

» the doctor came in for their evening round and ensured sakusa that you were indeed getting better! your fever had broken not too long ago and your body was working extra hard to heal itself up!

» "is there anything i can do to help?" sakusa asked. he felt helpless in this situation just watching your face distort in uncomfort every now and then, and coughing your lungs out.

» patting sakusa's shoulder, the doctor told him that just being here for you is enough. "you gotta be a strong boyfriend for her alright son? she'll be able to go home tomorrow first thing in the morning if her fever doesnt come back"

» sakusa slumped in his chair at your bedside, the doctors words ringing through his head. 'boyfriend huh?' he thought to himself. "if i was her boyfriend..." he whispered to himself, "i would be a failure for not even knowing my girl was sick..."

» to kiyoomi, you were beautiful. even now in this sad state you were in. deep down he locked these growing feelings he had for you inside of him because he always felt like you were a better match with someone else and after this stunt you pulled of lying to him about going on a family trip, it only made him feel worse.

» it was now night time and you finally began to stir in your sleep, the fever finally gone. sakusa reached out to move some hair that was stuck to your face, fingers tracing the outline of your jaw. your eyes slowly opened and met with his dark orbs.

» "y/n?" "saku- wait this is just a dream. omi wouldn't be here. he hates hospitals" you let out a forced laugh and then a sigh through your sore throat.

» you reached out to sakusa's hands that were resting on the side of your bed. "omi would never let me hold his hand because he'd say im passing germs to him so hopefully dream omi wont be the same" you were aimlessly talking to yourself, not even realizing that this really wasnt a dream.

» he squeezed your hand in return. hoping that you wouldnt let go any time soon. a funny smile appeared on your face just at the thought of him. "even if you're stupid for not realizing how much i like you... i cant wait to see you again omi" you whispered before falling asleep again.

» sakusa didnt know what to do. he sat there frozen in his chair. it was his first time hearing you call him omi. heck. you literally just confessed to the boy. his brain was running wild. groaning in distress he let go of your hand to step out for a breath of fresh air now that you were back asleep.

» it was 5am and your mother came back to the hospital and thanked sakusa for staying by your side. He left in a hurry to make sure you didnt see him there.

» Monday rolled around and sakusa was waiting outside of the school gates for you. he had planned on asking you about your "trip"

» "good morning sakusa!!" your bright and cheery voice rang through his ears. honestly he was trembling inside. the memory of you confessing to him still fresh in his mind.

» "how was your trip?" you stopped dead in your tracks. "haha... it was good !! sorry i forgot to get you a souvenir" you were trying to play it cool but sakusa could tell you were forcing yourself. "i wouldnt want a souvenir from where you came from so its fine" sakusa's words threw you off. "i - im not sure im understanding what you're saying sakusa?"

» you felt a tug on your hand. "dont you mean omi?" his voice husky as he whispered into your ear. cheeks flushed, your brain felt like it short circuted. you've always tried your hardest to not let it slip that you want to call him omi since he hated when people called him that.

» sakusa smirked at your cute reaction he got out of you. letting go of your hand he began to walk into the school leaving you at the gate dumbfounded. "and by the way. you're just as stupid for not realizing how long ive liked you too"

-» ˚⸙͎۪۫⋆

thank you for your order! enjoy~!

#haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #yinny!drabbles #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa fluff #kita shinsuke #kita x reader #kita fluff

[gryffindors-weasley]

Enamored

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: The day Ron tells you he loves you.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: loss of a home, Fred is alive, mild angst, fluff, requited love, kissing

A/N: This fic is inspired by Pretty Boy by The Neighbourhood!

The last traces of summer had rapidly faded as the season changed to autumn, the once warm weather now chilled and brisk. It had been a whirlwind of a year thus far, one that was exceedingly more undesirable than most with the war having transpired. It brought with it a myriad of losses and misfortune for all that had been involved to fight against the Dark Lord.

The most noticeable loss for the Weasley family was the destruction of their family home. It was near ash and ruins but a few months ago, devastating and left in tatters as it no longer stood tall lopsidedly wonderful. While it was life altering and an act of complete and utter cruelty, they remained grateful that each and every member of their tight knit family remained alive and well. That’s what always mattered most to them, what will always matter.

Now that fall has rolled around after three months of hard work and effort put in from you and the beloved family, the Burrow was officially rebuilt. It didn’t house the same memories as it once had, it couldn’t have, but it stood tall and beautifully imperfect once more. It was a home that could only possibly be held up by magic otherwise it just might topple over with the number of floors it had. The pots and pans had scrubbed themselves once more, the chimney puffed out smoke yet again, the home was now bustling with a familiar boisterous energy once again in a way only they could manage to create.

Spending that time with them was time you were grateful to have, though you found yourself to be with Ron more so than anyone else. No matter what the instance may have been, you always seem to seek each other out as if it were a subconscious act. It was a wordless fact seemingly known to just about everyone but the very two people who’d been doing it, but that didn’t come as a surprise to anyone at all.

It’d been three years in the making of watching their lovestruck brother and equally lovestruck best friend pine for each other, of watching you both be so oblivious it was almost painful. Three years of catching him gaze at you with the softest of smiles when you weren’t looking, one so adoring Molly nearly cries every time, and of you doing just the same when his attentions were focused elsewhere. Three years of watching you two brush hands when you walk side by side followed by the promise of blushing cheeks when you realized the electrifying encounter. It had been frustrating years in the making of watching two people they loved so dearly be so blissfully unaware of just how in love they truly were with each other.

They were ready to take matters into their own hands and make it known themselves.

Currently, Mrs. Weasley has assigned both you and Ron the task of stopping by the bakery in town. She’d wanted an assortment of pastries as a part of a way to celebrate the finishing of their new home. She had made more than enough of her own in her newly remodeled kitchen of course, but she had her mind set on blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies made from none other than Hazel’s Bakery.

She most certainly did not send the two of you in particular in an effort to get you to spend some alone time. No, definitely not.

“Are you warm enough?” Ron asks as you leave through the front door, stepping out into the brisk weather.

You nod, cheeks staining a soft pink at the gentle caring he had for you, the question falling from his lips like it’d been second nature. Caring for you, being protective of you, it was second nature by that point. He doesn’t believe he could help it even if he tried, but he doesn’t want to. Despite the fluttering of your heart you couldn’t help your teasing smile. “Yes. But I suppose it’d be far warmer if we drove there.”

He caught onto your teasing and rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth nonetheless. “Are you ever going to stop teasing me for that, Y/n/n?”

You pretend to give his question some serious thought, puckering your lips as you squint your gaze and tap your finger against your cheek. His laughter broke you from your actions. “No, I don’t think I will, Ronnie.”

Your own laughter was immediate at the scrunch of his nose upon hearing the nickname he loathed so much, more so at the playful narrowing of his blue stare. Maybe he didn’t hate it when it fell from your lips. However, you quickly appeased his obvious displeasure of the name as you brushed the pad of your thumb over his chin, his blushing smile soon to return as he looked at his feet to steady his racing heart. He knew his cheeks had to have matched the leaves on the trees by now. They always had been when in your presence.

You shook your head with a smile as you focused your attention on anywhere but him to avoid worsening the heat in your cheeks. Rather, you focused on the graying of the sky and the way the grass rippled beneath the wind. You listened to the leaves crunching under both your footfalls and the sound they made as the breeze washed over them. For lack of a better word, this time of year had been the most magical, and it seemed as though Ron fit right in with the hues of his hair and equally his attire. Equally his flushed cheeks.

A single wildflower had caught your stare, standing tall amongst the fading green grass. You slowed your stride to bend down and pluck it from the ground, turning to look at Ron who’d now stood paces from you with a curious brow raised.

“What is it?”

You held up the yellow flower, the stem pinched between your fingers as you beamed. In a matter of seconds you ran to him the short distance he was from you, his smile now apparent.

“What are you doing?” He asks with a laugh, one to stave off the way his breath hitched as you leaned up to tuck it within the red hair just above his ear.

It appeared golden amongst the rosy ginger shade and he smiled down at you fondly for a brief moment before shaking his head, not making a move to take it out. You smiled up at him, biting the inside of your cheek to hide just how giddy he’d made you feel in that very moment. You suppose there wasn’t even a reason to feel as such, but that hadn’t mattered; the feeling occurred whenever it so pleased, and it was more often than not it seemed.

You reached the end of the long driveway and took his hand without a second thought, sharing a smile before apparating from the property.

In mere dizzying seconds you had appeared in the ever familiar and unfrequented alleyway, taking a moment to adjust before stepping into foot traffic along with everyone else in the town. It wasn’t as busy as some days it could be, but regardless it was always a fun trip to walk about, it was cozy.

Almost in the very same moment did the two of you realize you’d still been holding hands, releasing the other as you looked your separate ways for just a second. He’d wanted to reach out and hold it once more, to interlock his fingers with yours. He hadn’t really wanted to let go. You risked a glance and he risked his and it wasn’t hard to tell when Ron Weasley has been fighting a smile. Perhaps what was more obvious was the little yellow flower that somehow still remained in his hair. You decided then and there not to mention it.

The denim of your jacket proved to be far less warm than you had thought it to be, or maybe it’d just gotten colder. Either way, as you walked down that sidewalk, you weren’t ready to let Ron know he’d been right in telling you to wear something heavier before you left the house. He always seemed to be right about those kinds of things.

Ron grabbed your wrist to keep you from walking past the bakery, his grin teasing as he held open the green painted door. You were far too distracted by him for your own good.

The smell of coffee and sweets had been instant upon entering, a little bell overhead signaling your entrance into the small yet cozy shop. The showcase had been filled with fresh pastries and baked goods, the line not yet as lengthy it surely would be now that Hazel had switched the sign to ‘open’.

The kind older woman had greeted you as warmly as she did each and every time she’d seen you, making a point to pinch Ron’s cheeks much like his own mother had.

“Hazel! We’ve talked about this,” Ron whines, rubbing his newly reddened cheeks.

“Oh hush, my dear boy,” she says, turning to you. “How do you put up with him?”

You laugh at that, shrugging your shoulders. “I must admit, it is but a wonder indeed, Hazel.”

You look to Ron who’d furrowed his brows at you, lips pursed in faux offense as you smile beamingly up at him. One that dissolved any look to displeasure. One that caused the woman behind the counter to nearly gush about what a wonderful couple you’d be, something that was also very much like his mother.

You placed your order and asked for extra, knowing if you hadn’t that surely Ron would have eaten far too many for Molly not to notice. Though you knew for a fact she’d be able to tell either way. She talked you into staying for just a little bit longer, the promise of hot cocoa far too enticing to turn down as you still felt the shivering effects of the chilly fall weather.

—

“You really thought I’d eat three muffins?” Ron scoffs, mouth full as a few crumbs fall past his lips.

You roll your eyes and shake your head as you walk down the cracked sidewalk, the steaming paper bag clutched in your hand. “You’ve eaten two already.”

“Did I?” He asks, brows furrowed as he halts momentarily to recall it. The genuine shock and confusion painted on his expression had you laughing as you grabbed his hand, tugging him along the walkway before any more passers by all but run into you with looks of annoyance.

“Yes, you did,” you giggle, releasing his hand to link your arm with his once more.

“Well, they’re really good,” he defends as you continue walking. “Really good.”

You look up at him then, a soft smile on your lips as you do so. His cheeks were stained a soft pink from the chilly weather, accentuating the freckles dancing across them and the very bridge of his nose. At the curve of his smile and the dimples that formed when he did just that. Or perhaps it was the near unruly ginger hair that dipped over his forehead and covered his ears; he had yet to get a haircut much to his mother’s dismay. He was starting to resemble his fourth year self, a hair length he’d claimed he hated so very much but you were beginning to think otherwise.

“Are you staring?” He asks a short while later, a more than knowing grin on his lips that sent your stomach into a fit of butterflies and knots.

“You’ve got food on your face, how could I not?” You counter, though the scarlet in your cheeks is far too obvious. It was true, there were crumbs in the corner of his mouth that needed to be swept away, but you were not ready in the slightest to admit your admiring. “Plus you’ve still got that flower in your hair.”

His hand is quick to fly up and pluck it out, looking at the delicate little thing as his cheeks burned once more. So that was what Hazel was talking about. He smiles then with a soft laugh, stopping your stride once more to tuck it behind your ear.

“There, looks much better on you,” he mumbles, smile soft and adoring, one that lingered long after he’d looked away.

“I beg to differ.”

You’d noticed just how gloomy the sky had been, clouds puffy and gray as the breeze intensified just the slightest bit. It wasn’t something you minded, for it was rather scenic amongst the rapidly dwindling buildings the closer you got to the Burrow. You both had decided a walk back would be best given the bag of sweets you now have, not to mention the hot chocolates you each had provided just enough warmth for you to do so.

A sigh left your lips, one of contentment as you walked back in a comfortable silence and you rest your head on his shoulder. Your arm still hooked with his as he slowed his pace for you to keep up with him, and he’d since taken the bag from your hand so you wouldn’t have to carry it. It was the little things that you noticed that others might not; the little things that meant the most to you, that made your heart flutter. Like the way he will always wait for you when something catches your eye in a shop, not an ounce of impatience in him like he may have had with his siblings. Or how he’d save a plate of breakfast for you when you stay at his home because you’d woken up later than his brothers. It left your heart full.

He hadn’t been aware that you’d noticed those kinds of things; he finds he isn’t even aware of it sometimes. Living you had become second nature at this point, it was expressed in nearly everything he did. You were woven into his very heart and hadn’t even known as such. He doesn’t know how he made it quite this far without going absolutely mad, without his heart bursting in his chest every time you look at him the way you do. Every time you smile at him the way you do. It was his hopes that you’d reserved those kinds of looks, those kinds of smiles for just him. It had been his hope that somehow, someway, you had felt the same way.

He knew with all the certainty in the world that he needed to tell you. He doesn’t think he can go another day without telling you as such. He knows he can’t; he loved you from afar for nearly four years. If you don’t feel the same, if it’s all over after his confession, he can take this moment with him. Of your head on his shoulder, of the way you held his hand that day, of the way you looked at him. It needed to be spoken no matter how much it made his hands shake. He almost lost you in that war and he decided he couldn’t risk not telling you.

You reached the familiar stretch of trees lining the vacant road, the breeze having intensified more noticeably. The walk had been quiet save for the chirping of the birds and the crinkle if the bag Ron held, or the crunch of leaves and gravel under your feet. You couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend your afternoon, especially with the knowledge of the warm meal Molly had been preparing for dinner that night. The whole Weasley family would be there, Harry would be there, Hermione would be there. It was plans that made your stomach flip with excitement.

It wasn’t until then, at the very opening of the near dauntingly long dirt driveway that the rain had started to drizzle steadily. You suppose you expected it at that point, with the puffy gray clouds that rapidly blew over any and all sunlight, it had become more than evident that that would be the case.

You gasped upon the weathers sudden change in plans regardless, the icy downpour taking you by surprise. A jovial laugh soon sounded from your lips as you threw your hands up, looking around as it came down and rolled off the tri-colored leaves. They too fluttered down in a flurry of reds and oranges, and you were certain you’d never seen something quite so beautiful, quite so enchanting.

Spotting a nearby shelter beneath the branches of one of the large trees, you grabbed Ron’s hand, ready to pull him along with you though you quickly noticed he hasn’t budged any more than just a few steps. You turned to him then, rather confused in that moment and the more you stood exposed to the sudden storm the less useful it became to seek shelter from it. None of it seemed to matter as he stood there and gazed at you, ginger hair darkened a few shades as it stuck to his forehead and flushed cheeks. The smile on his face was quite possibly the softest you’d ever seen it be, and it held something different, remarkably different and you couldn’t put your finger on what it was. Though it seemed to be far too much as he looked away from you momentarily as if to gather himself, a soft laugh leaving his lips.

Everything felt that much more intense in that moment, and he felt as though his breath was caught in his throat as he stood before you. You were confused, that much was clear. You were still holding his hand in yours, still smiling at him with that smile. That had also been very clear. You were doused in the downpour and his heart beat wildly with each passing second, and if he opened and closed his mouth one more time he felt as though he just might look like an absolute fool.

“What are you doing?” You asked, taking a step closer as you look at him quizzically, “We’re just about soaked and you hate the rain—”

“I love you.”

The three words were spoken then, almost unheard against the heavy rain. They were soft and they were true, how could you not have heard them? Yet even though they clearly were, very clearly, it still hadn’t quite registered to you just exactly what he had just said. You couldn’t believe what you had heard.

“What?” You ask, a soft laugh leaving your lips. Not one of mocking, more of giddy surprise.

“I said I love you,” He repeats louder as he swallowed thickly, accompanied by a nervous laugh of his own as he wipes the wet strands of his hair out of his eyes.

The more time that had gone by, no matter how fleeting it made have been, the butterflies in his stomach were relentless. By this point the rain was of no importance, trying to stay dry was of no importance anymore. What was important was the way you grasped his flannel jacket and leaned on your toes, and the way you pressed your lips on his. Or the way you smiled against his lips as he pulled you close to him, as close as possible, dropping the soaked paper bag of pastries to the ground in favor of settling his hand on your cheek and tangling his fingertips in your hair.

You couldn’t help the quiet giggle that was threatening to break your moment; maybe it was the sheer loving intensity of it, or the fact that this was real and this was happening. But the way he kissed you, the way your heart beat so loudly you thought he could hear it, that’s what had kept you in that very real moment.

When you parted you hadn’t strayed more than a few inches as you looked up at him, beamed, his smile equally so as the two of you laughed softly. It was one of giddy love, of an unexpected moment of bliss. The feeling that the person you loved so wholly loved you back just as much. It was that kind of laugh.

“I love you,” you say, laughing once more as your foreheads touched in the fond moment. The tip of his nose had been flushed from the cold nipping at his skin, his smile brilliant and adoring and entirely telling of his love. “I love you.”

You kiss him again, soft and quick as you grabbed his hand before you spoke up after a short while to relish in your moment. “We’d better go inside!”

“Yeah,” he laughs, nodding in agreement even if he was perfectly content to stay there and kiss you. “I think we better.”

You pulled him along the muddy path as he laughed behind you at your antics. The two of you were breathless and soaked and still in a daze from the kiss you’d just shared mere moments ago as you rushed through the door. The look on Molly’s face changed from startled to quizzical as she took note of the sheer nothingness in either of your hands, her lips pursing and her arms crossing.

“Just where are the muffins? And the cookies?”

Ron looks to you with a smile and you the same, laughing softly amongst yourselves at the realization of just where they had been. The sight of your kiss swollen lips and flushed cheeks was telling enough of the reasoning such a blunder occurred. Not to mention the way the tips of his fingers still grasped yours. She knew. “We must’ve forgotten.”

He hadn’t broken his gaze from you quite yet as he spoke, far too lovestruck to do so. Far too enamored.

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @ch0colatefr0gs @vogueweasley @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @awritingtree @lupinsclassroom @harrysweasleys @theweasleysredhair @writeroutoftime

#ron weasley #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x you #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley headcanon #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley angst #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley fic

[s4ijoh]

meet me halfway (across the globe). suna rintarou

SUNA RINTAROU X GN! READER

GENRE: slice of life; facetime call; fluff

WORD COUNT: 1.4k+

WARNINGS: established relationship; mentions of stress

in which suna is somewhere far away…

[10:22] rin: “you up?”

[10:23] rin: “big game tomorrow morning.”

[10:23] rin: “cant’ sleep. need to see u.”

the phone buzzing on the bedside table startles you out of your morning somnolence. the empty spot in bed next to you feels a weird type of unfamiliar. you drowsily stretch your arms out, reaching for the ringing device while dragging out a loud yawn.

you are taken aback by surprise once you take a look at the numbers displayed on your phones lock screen: 10:25am. its already past midnight in his timezone. he shouldn’t be up this late.

swiping through your phone's screen, you waste no time in dialling his number once you come across the green facetime icon and luckily, it is only a brief moment until he is picking up and oh boy are you met with a sight to behold. if it werent for your concern, you could’ve just stayed there, marvelling in awe at your boyfriend, sitting shirtless against the headboard in all his glory. his pale skin is gleaming a beautiful shade of orange under the dim light of the table lamp thus reminiscing a statue made of gold; his tousled, black feathery hair sticking in all different directions yet with just a few loose strands cascading down the sides of his temple and framing his face in such way that made him look effortlessly handsome.

he looked as beautiful as ever. however, despite the apparent picture perfect scenario, you would be a fool not to notice the clear signs of restlessness showcased on his features nonetheless.

“sorry, did i wake you?” suna apologizes tenderly with a doting frown on his face once he notices your lids still heavy with vestiges of somnolence just barely peeking from the bottom of the screen. your phone is propped up on your chest, the lower half of your face hidden away from him as you refuse to get up from your comfortable position laying under the warm blankets.

“dont worry about it, baby.” you hurriedly push his apologies aside whilst rubbing the sleep off your eyes to try and not make him feel too bad about it “you know you can call me anytime. im always waiting for you on the other end whenever you need me”

he offers you a subtle smile, although its odd — its weak, not sincere. it is not the usual signature smirk with a teasing remark on the side you earn whenever you say something cheesy. it is also hard to miss the darkening spots growing under his tired eyes, his usual sparkly green orbs now nearing dull, heavy with underlying frustration. it made it all crystal clear.

rintarou is not an outwardly emotional person and definitely not one to voice his concerns. his pleas for help were often left unspoken and it takes a sharp eye to see through his unwavering surface. for the most part, the blank expression he's seen wearing most of the time did a pretty good job at shielding his feelings yet his eyes often betrayed him.

he had taken off a couple days ago to somewhere foreign for an important match. you know how sometimes, before a decisive match takes place, he lets pressure get to that pretty head of his and relies on you to keep him grounded and soothe his racing mind. for the longest time, he had been capable of keeping his emotions at bay and deal with his troubles on his own but ever since you came around, rintarou found himself growing selfish and craving your comfort, finding solace in your reassuring words and warm embrace.

you miss the old days when your lover was just at an arm's length and all it took was for him to say the word for you to drop everything and come running to his house, to hold him in your arms and make it all feel better. you remember people in highschool claiming suna was bound to fade into the background given his lazy tendencies and lack of enthusiasm. (what a waste of potential, they would say) suna would shrug. he never payed any mind to it — you praised him on his unshakable nature. it should be a major ego boost for rintarou to know that, not that many years later and against the spiteful tongues of some of your classmates, he made a name for himself as a first division professional volleyball player, thus proving them wrong.

however, he still has quite a few demons to tame inside his head. one of which was self-doubt.

you let your eyes roam his tired features for a moment. “you need to get out of your head, rin”

suna knew you could read him like an open book. you made him feel vulnerable under your scrutinizing gaze. he felt exposed. to have you stare directly into his naked soul was intimidating, more so than to have you stare at his nude body, like you have done dozens of times before. but just like you did with his body, you had taken your time to get to know every corner of his soul. you knew him like the palm of your hand — both mind and body.

“i know.” he tears his gaze away from yours, looking down while running a hand through his disheveled hair and down to scratch his neck in frustration. “tell me how have your days been?”

the silence of his hotel room was eating him whole and he needed you to distract him. most of the time, suna was fond of the silence. after a rough day he found comfort in laying down in his bed and basking in the quiet. he found peace in it. sometimes it was in the quietness of his own little world that he found the solution to his problems. but upon your arrival to that mysterious world of his, your voice soon became his favorite sound. he craved you to fill in the silence that he once treasured.

and so he listens. suna listens as you talk throughout the night (who would’ve guessed you had just woken up), rambling on about your days as other trivial things — namely how you could never get used to starting the day without his morning cuddles. he found it endearing how you seemed to speak enough for the two of you. he was a man of few words so he was lucky to have found someone to fill in the silence for him. and so he listens until his eyes start progressively feeling heavy, your voice lulling him to sleep.

“hey, baby” he calls in a barely audible raspy voice. suna lays down on his side under the cold unwelcoming bed sheets, holding his phone next to his face on the pillow “put your pretty face on the phone”

a soft smile crawls its way up to your flushed face at his sugar coated words, his voice although drowsy sounding sweeter than saccharin. you were so lost in the lovely image of him that you failed to notice that your face was barely on the frame, just your eyes peeking shyly from the bottom of the screen.

you shuffle in bed, turning on your side to mirror his position. its almost as if you’re not a hundred miles apart and he's lying right next to you, if you squint hard enough.

“there you are” he mumbles weakly under his breath, a loving smile on his pillowy rosy lips that you miss dearly.

his eyes appear weary through the screen yet he never fails to look at you with the utmost love. dumbfounded, you wordlessly stare at each other as you fall into a comfortable silence that is however, filled with a hundred unspoken words.

his love is quiet, hesitant at times but never shallow. he felt deeply and feared he wasn't the best to put it into words so sometimes, his love, it hides beyond lingering stares and shy touches. it remained unuttered most of the time but words are futile when he has shown his devotion to you countless times before.

“hey rin. you think you can go to sleep, now?” you notice him fighting the urge to let his eyes close shut, battling to stay awake for a little longer to try and memorize your face for later so he can dream of you tonight.

he simply nods with his eyes shut, too sleepy to pronounce a single word.

“call me tomorrow after the game, alright?” he nods yet again, noticeably starting to drift away at last but not before muttering a quiet i love you before the last hint of consciousness leaves his body, eliciting a tender smile from you.

“i love you, rin. ill meet you in your dreams tonight.”

[a/n]: so! writing this fic made me realize that im undeniably in love with suna and he now owns a 51% share of my heart. (oikawa. ill never forget you. its not you its me (suna) maybe its time i move on. 🤒 jk jk ill have both pls and ty 🥰)

anyways ye i guess im back from my mini hiatus (as a full suna whore) :))

this is honestly a word dump, initially this was supposed to be like... what.. 500 words long? i just thought of the prompt “put your pretty face on the phone” and the rest is just me pouring my love for him into words ah-ha. (you probably noticed how it is unnecessarily cheesy 🙄)

just for the record!! i havent finished season 4 just yet 🐸 lmao. i took inspiration off of nooras (@/inarzki) characterization of suna because she was the one who made me fall in love with him in the first place.

#suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna fluff #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou fluff #haikyuu x reader

[elizabeethan]

Where The Love Light Gleams

Killian visits his brother and sister-in-law in Storybrooke, Maine for the holidays and runs into the woman who broke his heart three years ago.

Rated T for language

~9700 words

Read on Ao3

A/N: Merry almost Christmas! I was feeling a little angsty the other day and finally sat down to watch the Dust Storm, then had an idea for a CS AU. This isn’t based strictly on the film and a lot of it’s plot points are different, but it is somewhat similar! With a Christmas twist, of course.

With that being said, there are mentions and brief descriptions of alcohol consumption, abuse, and withdrawal in this fic (although not nearly as heavily used as in the film) so please be aware of that.

Also, the worlds largest snowman (and snowwoman), as described here, is a real thing!! It was built in 2008 in Maine, and fun fact, I was there! I think the record was recently broken in Austria, but whatever. Olympia will always be number one in my heart.

Finally, thank you to @donteattheappleshook​ for your beta services!!

Tagging: @courtorderedcake​ @kmomof4​ @stahlop​ @klynn-stormz​ @laschatzi​ @emelizabeth88​ @lfh1226-linda​ @kday426​ @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story​ @captain-emmajones​ @gingerpolyglot​ @ebcaver​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @teamhook​ @superchocovian​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @tiganasummertree​ @gingerchangeling​ @jrob64​ @onceratheart18​ @xhookswenchx​ @winterbaby89​ @swampmedusa​ @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy​​ @love-with-you-i-have-everything​ @shireness-says​​ @snowbellewells​​ @hollyethecurious​​ @ouatpost​​ @daxx04​​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @donteattheappleshook​

To say that Killian is miserable is a bit dramatic. Sure, he’s in this strange little town with only his brother to keep him entertained, but it’s a blessing to be spending the holidays with him and his new bride. Certainly better than being alone in Boston now that Liam has moved from England, he tries to remind himself. But the fact remains that he hasn’t been in much of a Christmas mood over the past few years, and he would almost rather be back at home getting some work done.

He isn’t a workaholic, honest. And he definitely isn't a scrooge, despite what his brother thinks. Really, he just hasn’t been in the mood to celebrate for a while.

Well, a few years, he supposes.

And it’s not because of a woman. No, it most definitely isn’t because of the fiery blonde who stole his heart and ran as far and as fast as she could once things started to feel real.

(She didn’t steal it; he gave it willingly.)

As the snow falls upon an overly-picturesque Main Street, Killian gets about as close as he possibly can to grumbling without any sound actually coming out. It’s freezing here— although not much colder than Boston— and if he has to spend any more time outdoors this weekend, he may very well lose a toe. It’s as he’s making his way down the slushy streets, avoiding the overly cheerful townsfolk and keeping his head down to avoid getting snow in his eyes, that he suddenly feels the warmth he’s been craving for three years.

It can’t possibly be true. The woman he’s just crashed into, the one with golden hair that smells like mint, fruity shampoo, couldn't possibly be her.

But when he looks up, he sees her.

The woman who ripped his heart out of his chest three years ago and ran off to Phoenix with it.

Bloody Hell.

“Oh my… god,” she says slowly, dumbfounded. “Killian?”

She looks stunning. Even more beautiful than he could ever imagine her becoming. Her hair is longer, a whiter shade of blonde under her gray beanie, her eyes perhaps an even more intense shade of emerald, cheeks just as round and rosy as ever, and he can tell even under the large puffer jacket that her body is even more perfect than he remembers.

This can’t actually be happening to him, can it?

He clears his throat, his hand drifting up to the spot behind his ear as he nods. “Hi.”

She laughs lightly and his entire world starts spinning at the sound he’s missed so dearly. She grounds him, though, the spinning coming to a halt when she springs on him and hugs him tight. “Oh my god,” she whispers against his neck.  

He can’t stop himself from hugging her back, the scent of her shampoo back in his nose and conjuring up memories he didn’t even know he had. “Aye,” he chuckles against her hair, taking in another breath. “Long time.”

“How are you?” she asks as she pulls away, a bright smile on her face.

“I’m… fine, I guess,” he says, screwing up his face and making her laugh.

“I mean, what are you doing here in Maine? What the hell? What a coincidence that we’re both here!”

“Aye, it is. I’m visiting with my brother and sister-in-law for the holidays.”

“Liam?” He nods. “He moved here? He’s married?”

He nods once more. “He did. He and Elsa moved here after the wedding two years ago. My, uh…” he clears his throat. “My dad finally passed away, so nothing was holding him there.”

How he’s allowing himself to do this is beyond him. His willingness and ease in opening right back up to her without thought is maddening to him, but somehow so natural. Bloody hell, has he missed her. “I’m so sorry,” she consoles, lightly touching his shoulder. “Would you… would you want to grab a drink with me?”

“Yes,” he says, before he can even consider how stupid his answer is. But it’s snowing hard and it’s freezing and—

And the love of his life just crashed back into it. He sure as hell isn’t letting her go so easily this time around.

~~~~

He doesn’t tell her that he stopped drinking soon after she left. Doesn’t tell her how badly he reacted to her fleeing, turning to rum in hopes of numbing the gash in his chest that she left wide open. He doesn’t tell her that one of their favorite things to do together became the thing that almost killed him.

He ignores two phone calls from Liam.

When she takes him to the Rabbit Hole, a dive, but the only option in this horribly quaint town, she orders what used to be his favorite shot. It sends a pang of nostalgia so strongly through him that he can’t deny her anything, couldn’t possibly say no to a second when she asks. After he’s had three, his lips are so loose that he should probably staple them shut.

“So,” she says, leaning drunkenly towards him as he does the same to her. “Tell me about your life now. What else has changed?”

He laughs, as if anything since she left is the same, and holds up his left arm. “I got this,” he says, sloppily pointing towards the prosthetic.

Her mouth gapes open and she drops the glass to the table with a bit too much force as realization hits her. “Is that,” she starts, but it seems like she’s unable to get any words out.

“A fake,” he tells her, knocking it against the table. “Lost it in the Navy.”

“Oh, Killian…”

He feels nauseous at her pity because he knows exactly what she’s thinking. He always knows what she’s thinking.

“Not your fault,” he shrugs. He doesn’t have to elaborate because he knows that she knows that he joined the Navy full time because she left him. “You tell me something now,” he insists.

She clears her throat and shakes her head, glancing away from him and smiling as she thinks of the thing she wants to tell him. “I’m here because my brother is having a baby. Well, his wife is.”

“David?” he asks. Although she was adopted by David’s mother as a teenager, she still struggled to consider him a brother when the two of them were together, so to hear her label him as such was strange.

“Yes,” she giggles. “My only brother, David.”

“Ha ha,” he chortles sarcastically, bumping into her and laughing for real as he takes another sip from the drink she ordered from memory. “That’s lovely news.”

“Maybe you can come meet him once he’s born.”

“Maybe.”

“Now, what about good news?” she requests.

Good news, he thinks. Since you left?

“I don’t know,” he says with a sad shrug. “My brother got married.”

“Yes, I heard,” she laughs, always able to make any situation feel light despite how miserable he may be. “I meant for you, though. Tell me something good that’s happened to you.”

He laughs, but it comes out more like a scoff. How can he tell her that, since she left him, his life has been shit? How can he still be so hung up on this bloody woman? “I don’t know,” he says again.

She shifts, and he can tell that she understands his meaning. Liam texts him again and he locks his phone without reading it.

She laughs lightly to fill the silence between them, taking another sip from her drink before saying, “dance with me.”

It isn’t a request. It reminds him of how many times he asked her to do just that in the sleazy clubs in Boston, and how many times she was too insecure to say yes. But now here she is, asking him, and he wonders what else has changed about her.

He says yes.

They’re on the dance floor, almost completely alone, dancing to shitty old music because apparently good songs haven’t found their way to Maine yet. And she looks so wild and so free as she swings her hair from side to side, slides her back up to his front, and lifts her arms until they’re reaching behind her to the back of his head and she’s pulling him close. His mouth is so close to her ear that he could nibble on it easily— she likes that. But he doesn’t, because he knows she’ll run.

But then she’s spinning around to face him, dangerously close as she continues to swing her hips with her hands in his hair, and he leans down and kisses her.

He knows it’s a bad idea the second he does it. He’s a fool for doing this, but he hasn’t had a drink in almost two years and he isn’t thinking clearly. All he can think about is the fact that she just started kissing him back.

He’s heartbroken when she pulls away just as quickly, looking confused and torn and broken as she turns away from him. He tries to call after her that he’s sorry, he knows he fucked up, he shouldn’t have done that, but just like three years ago when she left him, she’s gone once more without a word.

As confused as he was when he ran into her, he’s far more confused now.

~~~~

When he wakes the next morning in the room he rented because Liam and Elsa were renovating their house, he’s feeling worse than he has in years. There were many reasons he quit drinking, and the hangovers were certainly one of them. The throbbing in his brain sends it slamming against the front of his skull with each move he makes, and the bright light streaming in through the blinds isn't helping. What he needs is an aspirin and a greasy breakfast sandwich, plus about a gallon of water, but he’s got to get out of bed to get any of those things, and he thinks he may be sick if he tries to stand.

He also needs to stop thinking about the fact that he saw Emma Swan last night. Maybe if he got any drunker he could’ve convinced himself that it was some sort of fever dream. Seeing her nearly killed him because he knows that he would take her back without a second thought despite how badly things ended the last time. The fact is, their relationship needed work, and instead of putting in the effort and communication necessary, Emma simply ran.

What he really, really needs is for his phone to stop ringing and that knocking to go the hell away.

“What?” He calls out, his voice groggy and thick from the dry air and his dehydration.

“Open the door,” she demands, and his heart begins racing at the sound of her voice. What the bloody hell is Emma doing here?

He tries really hard to stand up. He’s barely got his eyes open, the movements sending a rush of blood to his head with each step he takes, but he’s a damn fool and he can’t let an opportunity to speak with her pass him by. When he reaches the door, he leans his blunted, naked arm against the frame and rests his head against it as he opens the door.

She’s bright eyed and bushy tailed when he first opens it, but when she sees the state he’s in, her face falls immediately. She drops her arms to her side, coffee and to-go bags hitting against her thighs as she takes in his appearance. “Oh no,” she says. “You look like you could use some breakfast.”

He couldn’t stay away from her if he tried, truly. He can smell the bagel inside the bag already, and it’s making his mouth water. All he needs is some water and he’ll be as good as new, right?

He moves slightly out of her way so that she can brush past him, sliding gracefully into the room and placing her offerings on the small table by the bed, just beside the prosthetic he doesn’t remember removing and the half-empty bottle of rum he bought on his way back here. He should throw that away.

Once everything is settled, she takes her coffee and seats herself on his bed. Bloody hell. If the sheets smell like her tonight…

“How'd you know where my room was?”

She shrugs. “There's only three rooms here. I took a lucky guess and followed the stench of day-old rum.”

He tries to laugh but nearly falls to the ground, a wave of nausea pulsing through him once more.  

“Oh,” she says, moving towards her large bag and pulling out a bottle of water to toss at him. He catches it one-handed, as he does everything, and opens it up effortlessly, gulping the entire bottle down almost instantly.

“Thank you, love,” he says, then wonders if he can still call her that. He still loves her.

“You look awful,” she remarks playfully, giving him a smirk.

“Thanks,” he grumbles. He moves across the room and takes a bagel out of the bag she brought, his stomach singing in anticipation as he takes the first bite.

“I’m only teasing,” she tells him with the soft smile he recognizes. The one he’s yearned for for years.

“Aye, I know when you're teasing. I’m just a bit hungover. It’s been a while since I’ve indulged that much.”

“Really?” she asks, turning towards him once he sits on the edge of the bed as far from her as possible. “How long?”

He clears his throat, buying time by taking another bite and practically groaning at the feeling of his body coming back to life. “Little over two years.”

She stills, her face falling, her shoulders sagging as she clearly and effortlessly puts together the timeline in her mind. “Oh.”

He says nothing in response, taking a hefty swig of his coffee made just the way he likes it.

“I’m sorry, Killian—,” she starts, but he raises his short arm to cut her off.

“No, I shouldn’t have said yes, it’s my own fault.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” she says awkwardly.

“No, not like I shouldn't have said yes, just…” he sighs, dropping his head slightly in defeat. “I wanted to catch up, I just shouldn't have drank, that’s all.”

“You're almost three years sober and I pushed you to drink within fifteen minutes of seeing you,” she says, her tone filled with self-defeat and disappointment.

He attempts to laugh and lighten the mood by saying, “it’s not the first time you've driven me to the bottle, love,” but he can see how bad of an idea that was the minute the words leave his lips.

“I’m sorry,” she nearly whispers. “I should go. I shouldn't have come.” She’s standing, getting herself ready to leave because he’s driving her away again. It’s his fault, again.

“Emma, no,” he tries.

“No, I just… I came to apologize for running off last night. I should've stayed and talked to you and dealt with that, and I'm sorry that I didn’t. So I've said my piece, and now I should go.”

He’s thrown by her words, her statement of wanting to discuss the events that transpired, because that was always the last thing she wanted to do when they were together. All they really did was drink and fuck each other and argue, falling in love somehow despite never having a conversation of substance. Each time he tried, she distracted him with a drink or her body. And because of that, things ended the moment it became difficult between them. The moment he tried to make it real. “You want to… talk?” he asks, his shock clear in his voice.

She laughs, dejected, and responds, “is that so surprising?”

“Yes.”

She clears her throat awkwardly, wrapping her arms around her middle before moving back towards the bed to sit down again. “I just wanted to come here to say I’m sorry and that I shouldn't have run off. Or left you with the bill. That’s why I brought you breakfast, to try and make up for it.”

“You never want to talk.”

“I’m not the same person you knew three years ago.”

“Then what’s changed? Aside from the fact that you suddenly seem open to having a conversation with me?”

“Killian,” she sighs, running her fingers through her perfectly messy hair. “I didn't think I would be having this conversation with you in this ass-backwards town after not seeing you for three years.”

“Well, I didn't think I would be having any conversation with you, ever.” She sighs again, and he knows he’s being unfair. He probably can’t blame her for everything that went wrong.

“I get it, okay? I fucked up. I was fucked up. I still am fucked up. I fucked you up, obviously. I shouldn't have done most of the shit I did when we were together. But right now, I'm feeling nostalgic, and I've missed you terribly and seeing you yesterday… Well, I just missed you, okay?”

He huffs out a breath, taking another generous swig from the to-go cup then running his fingers through his hair. “You think I haven’t missed you just as terribly?”

“So can’t we just enjoy this time we have together? Come to town with me and we can go to that holiday festival they have going on. Something brought us together and I don't want to waste this opportunity to catch up with you.”

And that is how Emma Swan convinced Killian Jones to forget all of the heartbreak she put him through three years ago. Not by offering him a drink, not by using sex as a bargaining chip, but by talking to him. He isn’t sure if this is a horrible idea or a brilliant one.

His phone rings again, and he knows Liam will chastise him if he answers the call.

It isn't as if they talk about anything meaningful. Their conversations throughout most of the day are rather bland and lack any quintessence whatsoever, but that doesn't mean he enjoys her company any less. They were always good at this, the banter and the jokes and the lighthearted conversations. Her sarcasm is infectious, as is her laugh, and he does whatever he can to hear it ringing through his ears again and again.

The winter festival is lackluster, the small and sleepy town providing all that it can but not holding a candle to anything he’s seen in Boston. There’s supposed to be some snowman building event soon, followed by a tree lighting ceremony, but he doesn’t get his hopes up. It’s still snowing lightly somehow, and the flakes that settle on Emma’s lashes are begging to be kissed away, although he holds back. Emma said she missed him, but in what capacity, he isn't sure.

“What about your nephew?” he finally asks as they walk through the overly cheerful crowd watching a couple of children sledding.

“Not here yet,” she responds. “I’ve just been waiting and waiting. I’m glad I ran into you, otherwise I’d have to be sitting with the lovebirds all this time.”

“Ah,” he says with a falsely somber tone. “So I'm simply a means to an end?”

She knows he’s joking and looks up at him with a bright smile that could probably melt some of the snow surrounding them. “You caught me,” she laughs. “I’m using you for your company alone.”

“I am rather good company, I must admit. Who else would buy you a bloody four dollar hot chocolate?”

She laughs again, bumping his shoulder with her own, and says, “no one.”

“Precisely.”

When she starts shivering, he wraps an arm around her shoulder and pulls her close to him. She doesn’t flinch or pull away, only turning her body slightly so that she fits perfectly under his arm, then wrapping her own around his waist as they continue strolling.

The winter festival doesn’t offer them much by means of entertainment, but apparently, Storybrooke, Maine is breaking a record for the world’s largest snowman, around which the festival is built. Once they reach the center of the park, Emma enjoying her caramel corn and occasionally sharing with Killian, they’re able to watch as the townsfolk put the finishing touches on the stories-high structure. She laughs when the crane carries a giant truck tire to use as the coal eyes and mouth.

“Look at that!” she shouts, pointing at the two trees they plan to use as arms. The thing is at least 100 feet high, and it doesn’t seem like the 30 foot spruce will be big enough. She nearly collapses from laughter, apparently in utter disbelief that this is happening before her. It truly is magnificent to watch, the record-breaking snowman coming together before their very eyes. Apparently, the entire process has taken close to a month, and the festival celebrates the end of construction.

“Quite astonishing, aye?”

“Aye,” she laughs, resting her head on his shoulder as the people around them begin to applaud the final product. The thing is massive, and somewhat horrifying, but it was fun to be there to witness it’s completion. With her.

An announcement is made that the tree lighting ceremony will begin soon and Emma makes a comment about wanting to make this day as cheesy as they can by doing all of the small-town winter activities, so they head that way.

Again, Storybrooke has nothing on Boston in any capacity, but the small and homey feel of a town where everyone knows each other and welcomes the newcomers makes him feel quite at home. Though he isn't sure if it’s the town or the woman on his arm who seems more than comfortable to be there.

Everyone lets out an ooh and an aah as the lights are plugged in once the sun goes down, and Emma lets out a gentle, contented laugh, her smile beaming and blinding him. She glances to him quickly, her grin softening. He knows it must be because he’s unable to hide the look of wonderment on his face as he gazes at her. “It’s really something,” she says softly.

His smile grows and his eyes flutter, and he truly can't believe that he’s here again. He can’t believe that he’s letting himself fall so hard for this woman once more. But things feel so different. Better. When she turns so that she’s facing him completely, no longer paying any attention to the twenty-foot tree before them, he knows there isn't anything in the world that could stop him from falling back into the maelstrom that is loving Emma Swan.

She steps up onto her toes, her nose close to touching his, and threads her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. His own hand and prosthetic find purchase on her hips over her large puffy parka as he tilts his head forward until their foreheads are touching. “I’ve really missed you,” she says, her breath warming his lips as it escapes her mouth.

“Aye,” he whispers back. “Me too.”

“You’ve missed yourself?” she jests. He laughs, although he thinks she has no idea how true her words are.

“Perhaps.”

She doesn’t answer verbally, choosing instead to lean a bit further onto her toes and press her lips gently to his.

This kiss is unlike any they’ve ever shared. It’s unlike the last one because neither of their minds are altered by anything other than the presence of the other. It’s unlike all of the ones they shared during the year and a half they spent together, but he isn't sure why.

She deepens the kiss and he lets her, her tongue sliding against his as she tilts her head. Her lips are soft and sweet like the hot chocolate she was drinking. Her teeth nip lightly on his bottom lip and he sighs into her mouth. Despite the fact that he knows this could very well destroy him, he feels at home.

They kiss for several minutes, or perhaps it’s hours, before she pulls away from him and presses her forehead to his again, breathing heavily as her smile nearly touches his. To say he’s conflicted would be an understatement; every part of him wants to be with her in this moment, to forget the past and make things right with her. But the logical part, the part that his brother practically beat into him, tells him to run.

But when she says, “do you want to get out of here?” there isn't a single part of him that wants to say no.

“As it turns out, I have a lovely room that’s currently unoccupied.”

She hums as she laughs, rubbing her nose against his. “Isn’t that convenient?”

They walk hand in hand to the inn, Emma standing behind him and melting effortlessly against his back  as she wraps her arms around his middle. When they get inside, she walks to the small bedside table, picking up the half-empty bottle of rum, and he thinks the worst.

It’s as if she hasn't heard a word he’s said all day. He quite literally quit drinking because of her, and if she offers him rum right now, he knows it will have to be over between them. He knows he would have to leave her now for his own good.

He thinks of Liam's words telling him how bad they were together. How the fact that they never communicated was completely unhealthy, how their excessive alcohol consumption prevented them from having an adult relationship, how their reliance on physical expression made it impossible for them to have any sort of meaningful conversation. He thinks about how close he came to death because of how excessively he drank when she left him. He thinks these things and nearly says them. “Emma, I can’t.”

But she interrupts. “I was just gonna throw this out. We don’t need it if you're sober, right? Is that okay? I don’t want to overstep.”

He feels his shoulders sagging and drops his head back with a smile, relief washing over him. “Yes,” he finally breathes out. “Yes, please get rid of that.” His heart rate starts to go back to normal almost immediately.

She smiles at him as she carries it to the adjoined bathroom, popping open the cork and ceremoniously pouring it into the toilet. She grins at him as she does so, and he smiles back, leaning on the jamb of the door and crossing his arms as he watches. She places the now empty bottle on the counter and turns to him, wiping her hands together three times as if to indicate that all is said and done. “There,” she says.

“Thank you,” he tells her softly, still leaning against the doorframe. She steps towards him, getting close enough to where he can smell the mint of the candy cane she ate earlier, and wraps her arms around him.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

“You don’t need to apologize again, Swan. It was my decision.”

“Would you have bought that bottle if I hadn’t asked you to get drinks? Would you have ordered shots if I hadn’t ordered them for you?”

He wants to lift his hand and scratch behind his ear, but she knows that’s his tell, so he wraps his arms around her in a hug and she lets him. “Probably not,” he murmurs sadly.

“Then I apologize.”

“You didn’t know.”

She giggles against his chest, the air puffing from her nose stirring the hair she leans against. “You could’ve told me.”

He shrugs. She sighs against him, squeezing once more before letting go and moving towards the bed to take a seat, patting a spot beside her.

“We never could talk about things that mattered, could we?” he asks boldly.

Her laugh is sad as she hugs her legs up to her chest, and he thinks she’s probably wishing she had a drink right about now. He wonders if she’s holding onto her legs to stop herself from running. “We weren’t all bad.”

“No,” he agrees. “But we weren’t all good either. What we had, Emma, it wasn’t healthy. I see that now.”

“Then why would you want to see me? Why would you say yes when I asked you to get a drink?” Her tone isn’t necessarily accusatory, per se, but he can see that she’s hurt by him saying that they weren’t right for each other.

“I don’t know,” he answers with a dejected tone.

Emma scoffs, shaking her head as she stands from the bed enthusiastically enough to send Killian bouncing. “So it was a bad relationship because I never communicated, but I ask you one question and you don’t have an answer.”

“Don’t do that,” he starts, though he isn’t sure where he’s going.

“Do what?! Try to actually have a conversation with you? Killian, you told me that you wanted to work on things because we never communicated.You told me you were serious about us, and instead of putting in the work, I left. I’m sorry for that. But now I’m here and I’m trying and you just don’t see that!”

“I do see that!” It’s true. It may not have been long since he ran into her, but he can see the changes in her from a mile away.

“Then talk to me! There’s a reason you said yes to drinks with me even though you’re sober, just tell me what it is. Why would you do that if you knew you would be hurting yourself?”

“I didn’t want to lose the chance to see you!”

“That’s ridiculous,” she chastises, rolling her eyes, and he stands now too.

“It’s because I never got over you. I saw you randomly in the streets after you basically destroyed me and I knew instantly that if I had the chance to be with you again I would take it.” Her face has fallen and she looks so sad and lost that it pains him. “When I saw you last night, I knew I never stopped loving you, no matter how fucked up we were. If I’d said no, I’d never have forgiven myself.”

She’s frozen. He is too. “You love me?” she asks.

“Aye.”

She’s crying. He is too. She wipes at a tear trailing down her cheek and sniffles hard. “After all this time?”

“I didn’t realize how bad we were while I was in it. After you left me, I basically got my ass handed to me by my brother and he helped me to see how toxic we were.”

“Toxic,” she repeats.

“Yes, Emma. All we did was drink and fuck and argue. We never talked. Not about the stuff that mattered.”

“I tried,” she says. “I really did try for you, Killian. You were always just so… so connected and you were always saying these profound things to me and about me, and I couldn’t handle it.”

“Why didn’t you just say that, then?”

“I didn’t know how!”

“So instead you left? Just up and leave one morning without a word? One fight and we were  done?”

“There was a lot more than one fight.”

“None of the others mattered. They were over stupid, meaningless shit. The one time I tried to get you to work on us you ran off to Phoenix.”

“That was a bad move,” she admits.

“Then why did you do it?! Why would you do that to me?”

She chokes out a soft sob, dropping onto the bed and letting her face fall into her hands. He feels regretful for making her so upset, but he must admit that there’s a certain catharsis in letting this out three years later.

“I didn’t know how to handle how much I loved you. No one has ever talked to me like that, not before or since. And I thought, if my own parents couldn’t love me enough to even keep me, then you couldn’t possibly either. So a part of me never really believed you. Every time you would say that you loved me, I could tell myself you didn’t mean it.” She sniffles again, blowing her nose into a tissue before continuing. He takes the opportunity to sit beside her once more. “Then that night, you were so honest. You just kept saying how badly you wanted a future with me and how desperately you wanted to make things work between us. And I thought I had done a good job of keeping you at arm's length so that that wouldn’t happen, but I guess I didn’t. And I couldn’t believe I had done that to you. I thought you couldn’t possibly have had a happy future with me.”

“Emma,” he says, hoping to argue with her but desperately unsure of what to say. “How can you say that?”

She shakes her head, still crying although he’s managed to stop his own tears. “I tried, Killian, really. I tried so hard to let you love me the way you wanted to, but I just thought you deserved so much better.”

“You deserve to be loved, Emma.”

She sighs, hugging herself around the waist. “It’s been really hard for me to see that,” she says softly, almost weakly.

“I love you,” he says. “Every part of you. I know it’s hard for you to accept, but it’s true. I only wanted to help you see that.”

“All I did was push you away,” she chokes.

“Aye, that made things rather difficult for me,” he laughs. “And I’ll admit that I ran out of patience and had to insist that we open up to each other. And I’m sorry that you weren’t ready then, but I don’t regret it. I regret losing you, every day, but I don’t regret saying what I did.”

She looks up at him through long, tear-filled lashes and barely smiles. “I know.”

They sit in a soft silence for a moment, the remnants of what was exchanged between them comfortably heavy in the air. Finally she turns to him, still holding a scrunched up tissue covered in her black makeup, and says, “can I tell you about Phoenix?”

He scratches behind his ear, unsure if he wants to hear about the things she got up to after leaving him behind, but says, “sure, Swan.”

Her breath catches in her throat and she smiles at him. “No one has called me that in three years.” He chuckles back at her, smiling and unsure of what to say. He likes this, him sitting here beside her while she talks to him. It’s different, and exactly what he needed all those years ago. “It was miserable. I was so unhappy, I don’t even know why I went. I got a shitty job as a waitress, I barely made enough to support myself, and I missed you so much it hurt.”

“I missed you too.”

She takes his hand and continues on. “Eventually I met this asshole who I thought was good for me, but I kept comparing him to you and I couldn’t get over it. A couple weeks ago he did something really stupid, stole some watches, and I got the hell out of there.”

“So where have you been for the last few weeks?”

“Here,” she shrugs. “Waiting for the baby, using that as an excuse to avoid my problems.”

He chuckles, unfortunately understanding what she means. “Well, I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you there. Never did get that job as a cop you wanted, did you?”

“No,” she hums sadly. “I guess there’s still time.”

“Aye.”

“Can you tell me about Boston? While I was gone?”

“Ah,” he starts, scratching behind his ear and earning a smile from her. “Wasn’t all that great. I started drinking more after you left. I joined the navy full time, then dad finally died, and even though I hated the bastard, I started drinking even more. Then I got to the point where I had to have something in me to even make it to work, and one day I crushed my hand so badly they couldn’t save it. Basically went through withdrawal while I was in the hospital. Liam moved here with Elsa, I got discharged, and then rest is history.”

She’s silent for a moment, taking in a deep breath before she says, “Christ.”

“Aye.”

“I guess neither of us really got our shit together, huh?”

He laughs again. “At one point I thought I had, but then I ran into this woman in the street and suddenly things just started going mad again.”

“Hmm,” she hums lightly, scooting over towards him on the bed. “What a bitch.”

He shrugs. “She’s not so bad now that I’ve had a chance to talk to her.”

“Ha ha,” she fakes. But before she can say anything more to him, she’s perching herself close to him and taking his left arm in her hands, gently stroking up and down the remaining flesh under his shirt. “Are you okay?”

He knows she’s referring to the hand he lost, probably to all the other things he went through as well. He nods, taking the opportunity to lean towards her and meet her forehead with his. “It was a while ago. Over two years now. I’m alright.”

“I’m sorry that it happened to you. And that you lost your dad.”

“Thank you.”

Before he knows what hit him, she’s kissing him. She presses one soft kiss to his mouth and pulls back, as if asking permission to go on, as if he could ever resist her. He’s kissing her back, placing a hand on her hips once she gets into his lap and running his arm up and down along her spine, wishing he could feel her against his fingertips again.

They remain in that position, her hips atop his and her fingers in his hair, for more time than he can keep track of. It doesn’t go any further, they simply enjoy each other as they get to know one another’s mouths again. If he thought he missed her before, he was a fool.

Once they break apart, he moves his arms so his hand slides up into her hair, pulling her into a tight hug and pressing their chests together until he can breathe again. They’re silent for another few minutes as they hold each other, trying to catch their breath. Her nose is pressed into his neck and he can feel the warmth of her breath against his skin. His nose is tucked into her hair and he can smell her familiar shampoo, fruit and mint mixed together.

“I’m tired,” she finally says. “I know it’s not that late, but can we go to bed?”

“I have rather missed sleeping beside you.”

“I haven’t really slept in three years.”

“Well,” he starts, moving to remove his shoes and grab his pajamas from his suitcase. “Lie down, Swan, and we’ll make sure you sleep soundly tonight. Do you want to borrow a t-shirt?”

“Yes please,” she smiles. “Did you bring face wash?”

“Of course, it’s in the bathroom.”

As they get ready for bed together, easily slipping back into the routine, he tries not to stare at her ass in his t-shirt, covered only by her cotton underwear. Once they’ve slid into bed, she slots herself up against him, one leg hitching over his hips as her arm hugs around his waist. He isn’t sure about her, but he sleeps like a rock for the first time in ages.

~~~~

When he wakes to her still clinging to him, he grins. At first, he can’t believe that she’s still here, but when he remembers their conversation, it makes sense. As much as he wants to tell himself that she could still take his heart again and run with it, he doesn’t believe it.

He detangles himself from her grasp, careful not to wake her, and stands to stretch. Once he gets out of the shower, he changes into a shirt and jeans and leaves her a note, telling her that he has to check in with Liam and asking her to meet him at the diner after.

When he finally gets to Liam's house, his brother exits his front door in a rage, marching down the front steps and grabbing him by the collar of his jacket. “Where the bloody hell have you been?”

“Good morning to you, too, brother,” Killian jests lightly, removing his hand from his coat. “I came to apologize.”

He scoffs. “You haven’t answered a single call or text, you don’t show up for the festival like we planned, what were you thinking?”

“I was busy.”

“And you could have told me you wouldn’t be home for dinner. Elsa made extra just for you!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Wait… did you say you were busy?”

Killian smirks, stepping aside from Liam towards the house to let himself in. “Aye.”

“Tell me it’s not her, little brother.”

“Younger.”

“Killian.”

“You mean you knew she was here?” he asks as he turns from the door, releasing the handle before he can get inside.

Liam sighs and moves Killian out of his way so that he can slip inside first. “Yes, I thought it may have been her when she arrived. As you know, she never wanted to meet me, so it was hard to determine from the pictures alone. But I remembered you saying she had a brother, and I knew David’s sister was in town.”

“Bloody hell,” he says as he follows his brother into the kitchen. He’s offered a coffee but he refuses. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Because, brother, think of who you were when you were with her. I didn’t want you going back to that place.”

“That’s not your concern.”

“You nearly died when she left you! How is that not my concern?”

Killian sighs, taking a seat on the stool at the countertop. He knows his brother is right, and that they still have more that they need to address, but he feels good about their conversation last night. He especially feels good about the fact that it was Emma who initiated it. “We’re both in a better place,” he starts.

“Well, you’re down one hand. What has she lost?”

“Liam,” he warns. “My reaction to her leaving is not her fault. I was the foolish one.”

“And I’m sure she agrees that it’s all your fault?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’ve had a conversation about this already.”

Liam laughs condescendingly and says, “really? Emma Swan had a conversation with you.”

“She initiated it.”

He’s quiet. A quiet Liam is almost never good… it means he’s thinking.

“I know you love her,” he starts. “But watching you the last time… well, it nearly ended me to see you go through that.”

“I know, brother.”

“I don't want to see you go through that again.”

“I don’t want to go through it again.”

They speak a bit more, mostly Liam talking at Killian about how concerned he is.But finding out that Emma was the one to reach out and take the first steps must have been encouraging to him. It was to Killian.

Almost an hour later, Killian finally leaves, just before he’d asked Emma to meet him at the diner, and makes his way down Main Street. It’s finally stopped snowing, and now that it’s Sunday morning and the fame-garnering festivities have ended, the town seems a bit quieter. He takes the gentle calm as a good sign. If nothing else, it’s finally showing him that perhaps this sleepy village isn’t as bad as he’d once thought.

He sees Emma sitting at the counter when he arrives, happy to see that she’s taken him up on his offer. But when he begins to walk over to her, something is off. The man seated beside her is sitting a bit too close, and he doesn't just think that because he’s fallen back into his tendency to be protective of her. When he takes hold of her arm forcefully and she tries to back away, Killian rushes towards her.

“Neal, I said stop! Get off me!”

He thinks of nothing but getting to her, grabbing the man by the shoulder and throwing him off the stool he’d occupied. She shouts when he does so, and he rushes to her to take her cheek in his hand and brush his prosthetic over her tousled hair. “Are you alright?” he asks, brushing a tear from her cheek.

“I’m fine,” she says shakily, letting out a breath in a sob. “I’m okay.”

He can only console her for so long before the man, Neal, grabs him by his own shoulder and yanks him away from Emma. He swings towards Killian and strikes his cheek, so he shoves his shoulder into the man’s gut until he falls and collides his own fist to his jaw.

He hears Emma shout his name, but whatever happens next is a blur to him. He doesn't stay on top of the man who attacked her, rising quickly to get away from him and standing in front of her in hopes of protecting her.

He forgets that her brother is the damn sheriff. It’s a small town, of course someone calls.

When he arrives, Emma tells him what's happened, blaming it on Neal and explaining that Killian was protecting her. David takes a statement from the both of them, then arrests Neal, leaving Killian with only a threatening look that he assumes means watch yourself around my sister. It’s not unlike the looks he gave him almost five years ago when he and Emma first began their relationship.

After all is said and done, Emma gets him ice from the kitchen and tenderly places it on his throbbing cheek. She apologizes relentlessly for getting him involved, as if he wouldn’t choose to do the same thing again and again. “It’s fine, love,” he tells her. “I’m alright.”

“This is all my fault.”

“No, Swan,” he insists, placing his hand on her cheek and brushing some hair behind her ear. “Don’t say that.”

She leans into his hand, soothed by his touch, and says, “let me bring you to your room. You don’t want to be out here with everyone watching.”

He finally gets his bearings back on his way up the stairs, the stars behind his eyes fading away and the feeling of her hand in his grounding him. She takes the keys from his pocket, struggling slightly to open the door with her shaky hands, so he rests his chin on her shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to her check and neck.

Once they’re inside, she pulls him to the bed and sits him down beside her. “That was my ex,” she tells him, pressing the glove filled with ice back against his cheek. He flinches away from the cold against his flaming skin and she apologizes once more. “He found me, I don’t know how. But he’s mad that I left him while he was fencing the watches he stole. He was scared I was gonna turn him in.”

“Well, he did a nice job of getting himself arrested, then.”

She chuckles, leaning close to him and pressing a soft kiss to the uninjured cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“Thank you. For just… I mean, we were in a public place and I know nothing could've happened, but… I don’t know. As messed up as it sounds, it felt good knowing you were there for me.”

“‘Course I am. Always.”

She runs her long fingers through his hair lightly, soothingly, and he leans his head against her hand.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” He opens his eyes to look at her once again, urging her to go on. “I’m in therapy.”

He smiles brightly at her and she returns it. “Are you?” It explains enough, her willingness to be open with him especially.

“Yeah. I started about a year after we… after I left you. It’s been going really well.”

“That’s wonderful, darling.”

“Yeah. And, uh, it’s made me realize some things. Like… like how you’re right, I pushed you away because I didn’t think I was worthy of love. And how being abandoned affected, like, every aspect of my life. But mostly my ability to… be vulnerable with the people I love.”

He nods his head, leaning back so that he can sit against the headboard. It’s only around 10, but he’s exhausted. “That makes sense, Swan. I’m glad it’s working out for you.”

“My point is,” she continues as if she didn’t hear him, likely because she desperately wants to get her point across. “My point is that… you’re one of those people. Just like you said everything changed when you saw me, it was the same for me. The second I saw you I knew that I— that I never stopped...”

She’s practically spitting the words out, but it’s so much more than she was willing to do three years ago. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you. I always have, I think I always will. And you were right. We weren’t good for each other back then because I was horribly closed off and you deserved someone who would open up to you. But I’ve worked on myself and now, well, now I want to work on us, if you still want that.” He grins at her admission and leans forward to press a kiss to her lips. “And one other thing.”

He backs away just slightly so that she can speak, but isn’t willing to go far. “What’s that?” he whispers.

“I have an interview after Christmas for a position on a police force. I’d just be beat cop but… I’m gonna go for it.”

He laughs and backs away some more because it’s all he can do. He’s happy for her, of course. She’s following her dreams. But he’s also heartbroken to hear that she plans to plant roots in Phoenix.

“That’s fantastic news, love. I’m glad to hear you’ll be following the path you set for yourself.”

“Yeah,” she says. “But you missed the best part.”

“What’s that?”

“The job is in Quincy.”

He’s frozen. “Quincy? That’s—”

“Like, 20 minutes outside of Boston.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I checked a map myself.”

He breaks out of his stupor to laugh, suddenly appreciative of her ability to make light of their situation now that she’s shown her willingness to be open with him. He’s in awe of the steps she says she’s taking. Of course there’s still more to discuss, but her admission has given him something he hasn't had in quite some time: hope.

“I know we haven’t talked about this,” she says in almost a whisper. “But I haven't been happy in Phoenix. I was hoping to move back to Boston soon anyway. And then when I ran into you… Killian, I'm…” she inhales deeply, smiling at him softly before saying, “I want to try again. Really try.”

Every time he thought of her over the last three years, he felt broken and saddened, and yet he still had love for her. Whenever he thought about their relationship and how bad it really was, there was still always a part of him that would have taken her back. Each time he had these thoughts, he knew they were outrageous because he would have needed her to tell him that that’s what she wanted too, that she was willing to work with him to make their relationship something good.

He never dreamed he would actually hear those words from her mouth.

“You’re serious?” he asks, completely dumbfounded by her once more.

“Yeah, I mean… if that’s something you would want.”

Without a second thought, he says, “yes. Yes, Emma,” he laughs. “I always would have taken you back. I always would have and I always thought that would be a horrible idea because I didn't think it would work, but now you’re…”

“I want to make it work.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, standing and moving towards her so that he can scoop her into his arms and hug her so tightly that he lifts her from the mattress. Her laughter rings through his ears joyously, a sound of which he thinks he’ll never tire. “Bloody hell, woman,” he says against her neck. “You've really put me through the ringer this weekend.”

She giggles again, tucking her nose against his pulse and planting a kiss there. “We all need a little drama around the holidays.”

“You’ve certainly delivered.” He releases her a bit so he can look into her eyes, brushing some fallen hair from her face and planting a kiss to the tip of her nose. “You're really moving back to Boston?”

She nods. “The only thing keeping me in Phoenix was my therapist,” she tells him with a laugh. “I can get a new one of those.”

He breathes out in disbelief once more. “I’m very proud of you, you know. All this time I wanted you back but I never thought you would want to put in the work. Not just for us, but for yourself. I’m glad you started seeing someone, love. You deserve to love yourself the way I love you.”

With a smile that seems to never fade, she touches her fingers to his cheek, the one with the bruise forming, and nods her head. “I’m glad I ran into you this weekend. Pretty life-altering.”

“One might consider it a Christmas miracle.”

With a laugh, she takes his hand and says, “yeah. Now come on, I need breakfast.”

They spend the day together again, this time neither of them timid around the other and freely touching and kissing one another. He can’t get enough of her. He’s sure the patrons of the small diner are sick of them reaching across the table to hold hands throughout their entire meal. Well, Emma holds his prosthetic, but the concept is the same, and she doesn't seem to mind. They talk about Christmas and New Years and life when they go back to Boston. They talk about their schedules and when they'll have time to see one another. She tells him she plans to start looking for apartments as soon as she can. She’ll stay with her brother and help with the baby until she finds one.

She gets a call from the sheriff after they've finished their breakfast, more like lunch given the time, and is informed that her nephew is on his way. She tells him that she’s going to meet him at the hospital and asks if her boyfriend can come, too.

The baby is quite cute, as newborn babies go, but what’s cuter is the look on her face when she holds him for the first time.

Killian sits in the waiting room to call Liam while she sits with her brother and sister-in-law, and he asks him to come by for Christmas Eve dinner. He also tells him that he should bring Emma along, and he hopes that she’ll agree. When they were last together, she was too afraid to meet his family. But when he brings it up to her once she’s finished visiting, she happily agrees.

Emma gets along beautifully with Elsa, and Killian can see that Liam really does try to give her a chance. Christmas Eve is special not only because he gets to spend it with the people he loves, but also because Elsa surprises all of them by revealing her pregnancy. When Liam finds out he’s to be a father, he cries.

With a promise to return for Christmas morning, they head out and back to his room at the inn, Emma claiming that the only gift she wants for Christmas is to spend the morning with him.

“So,” he says once they’re seated in the lobby with a fire roaring before them. “I’m your boyfriend?”

She hums, as if considering this, and nonchalantly says, “I guess so,” as she takes his hand and pressed a kiss to his bruised knuckles.

They sleep with her back against his chest, her hips wiggling into his every so often driving him mad with desire. But there’s an unspoken agreement between them to wait before being physical with each other again. The last time, sex was something they used to distract themselves from the things that were going wrong in their relationship. This time around, he wants it to be something more. He wants it to be about them and how much they mean to each other.

He can tell that she’s sleeping as her breathing shallows, and he reaches his hand onto her hip to hold her a bit tighter. When he does, she takes his hand and pulls him over her so that every part of them is touching. It’s perfect.

~~~~

When he wakes on Christmas morning, he’s alone. She’s tossed the sheets away so that they were folded over on top of him, and when he reaches for her pillow, it’s gone cold.

A part of him panics. Could she really leave him again? The last time, he woke and she was gone, leaving only a note that said ‘I can’t, I’m so sorry’. This time, there’s no note, and he isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not.

The difference now is that he isn’t as worried as he could be. Sure, she isn’t here, but he trusts her more now after just two days than he thinks he did for much of their relationship three years ago. So when he collapses back onto the bed, slightly worried, he finds himself also embraced by a sense of unexpected calm.

She’s opening the door just a few moments later, and he knows his face brightens by several shades once he sees her carrying a tray of drinks and pastries. A bear claw for her and a donut for him, plus a coffee and what he’s sure is a hot chocolate. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to convince Granny to sell these to me.”

He sits up in bed slightly, reaching his arm behind his head as he grins at her. “Happy Christmas, Swan.”

She places the tray on the table beside the bed and tosses her shoes off before climbing into bed and onto his lap, her legs straddling his. “Merry Christmas.”

“There are some things you just won’t be able to change, my love.”

“That’s alright,” she laughs, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I like you the way you are.”

It’s enough, he thinks. It’s perfect.  

#tw alcohol #Captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #captain swan AU #cs au #once upon a time #once upon a time fanfic #ouat ff #ouat au #dust storm au #angst #fluff #angst with a happy ending

[cotncandyboifics]

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 6

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 1,987

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: food, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: I hated writing this chapter because I love Logince and I'm intentionally writing this story so that Logince doesn't work and I just- my heart and my creativity have a conflict of interests here :')

...

Roman was left alone in his room, staring at the door where Virgil had slipped out silently a few minutes ago. He'd turned off his music, and was sitting up, staring, thinking.

What was even the point of asking Logan out? I didn't have any interest in him before, he was just a nerd who i never bothered, and he never bothered me... perhaps for the challenge? when I saw him in class today something just sparked, and i felt the need to pursue him. I didn't think he'd entertain it, especially so quickly. And what of Virgil?

What of Virgil?

Roman shook his head and stood, leaving his room to see what his parents were doing, and if he could help with dinner. He needed a distraction, and he knew homework wasn't going to do it.

...

The next few days at school were strange, to say the least.

Patton was the same, as far as the others could see. He tried figuring out some of the routes Logan took to different classes, just a few so as not to seem suspicious, but Roman was more often than not already there and bombarding Logan with his charms. Patton still caught him alone sometimes though, and did his best to make conversation about little things, just wanting to get to know Logan. They had an engaging conversation about Logan's surprisingly extensive knowledge about drug abuse, and Patton was thankful for the bits of advice he could get. They'd also run through proper methods for caring for various species of turtles.

Logan continued to hound himself about why he had accepted Roman's courting after such a short time knowing him, let alone that they were very... different people, to say the least. He'd told his father that one of his friends had requested an outing to a cafe to study for an upcoming calculus quiz. His father was reluctant but upon Logan's presentation of evidence of such atmospheres increasing the effectiveness of studying and concentration, his father granted him permission to go. Logan knew his father would never permit any,, frivolous activities, when Logan had so much academic potential. And Logan made himself feel the same way, acquiring knowledge and more importantly incredible accolades was all that mattered until he was out of school. And yet, here he was, about to go on a date behind his parents' back with a jock, very stereotypical of a teen and yet very atypical for him. He couldn't explain to himself why he'd allowed himself to get into this situation, but it wasn't causing any immediate problems, so he decided to try and let the topic rest.

Virgil was acting stranger than ever, at least from Roman's perspective. He seemed even more cold and distant, except on occasion he'd strike up a conversation. Sometimes they got rather lively, debating about which were the best Disney movies, even if they had very... differing perspectives on what messages they portrayed. Roman was baffled, Because he didn't think someone who was previously unconcerned with Roman for the most part could become so black-and-white, switching between completely ignoring and/or glaring at him, and coming into a room and immediately proposing a topic of conversation.

Roman had his hands full with courting his new love interest, and trying to figure out what was going on with Virgil. Virgil himself was very conflicted. Any time he saw Roman, his feelings became intense and he never knew how to act.

The group's dynamic had shifted accordingly whenever they were in class together. In Biology, Logan was usually hard at work on their report, Patton doing his best to help. Roman often attempting to fluster Logan in any possible way he could, and Virgil, ever unpredictable.

...

Finally Thursday came, and Roman got into his mustang to pick up his date. He drove quietly up to a large white house, with a very systematic garden laid out in the front. He got out and leaned against the closed passenger door, and messaged Logan, letting him know he was there to pick him up.

Logan had hoped Roman would have the sense to pick him up around the block, but upon exiting his house and seeing him directly in front of the house leaning against his red mustang with a single red rose in his hand, Logan brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and massaged it, trying to keep from getting aggravated before their date even began. He walked over slowly, trying to keep an open mind instead of letting his logical self shut everything about Roman's love language down.

Roman had to keep himself from staring. Logan was dressed... well, typically his own style, but... he had gelled his hair back so it became one big dark tuft instead of it's usual gentle messiness, and he had on a silk navy button up and a black bowtie instead of his trademark necktie. He had on Black corduroy pants that accentuated his slender legs, and white and blue converse that complemented his shirt and pale skin. Roman was impressed at the attention to detail yet the simplicity of his date's outfit, and was indeed that much more attracted to him.

"Well hello there," Roman said as Logan neared, looking him up and down, "don't you look ravishing."

Logan's cheeks glazed a bit. "As do you," was all he could think to reply. Roman had on a dark red v neck and a black and gold baseball jacket, dark grey ripped skinny jeans with a silver chain, and red checkered vans. Logan realized he'd let his eyes linger on Roman's exposed collarbone a moment too long. God, why am i acting like this?

Roman just smirked and stood aside, opening the passenger door he'd been leaning on and making way for Logan. Logan sat, his knees nearly touching the dash. Roman got on one knee and dramatically presented Logan with the flower. Logan smiled gently and took it, examining it. Roman shut the door and made his way around to the driver's side and got in.

"Will you relay the whereabouts of our destination or will it remain a mystery to me?" Logan asked as Roman opened his door, not looking up from the flower.

Roman smiled with a glint in his eyes. "Well it would be no fun if i were to spoil the surprise, now would it?" He put the key in the ignition and started the car, and the engine hummed smoothly to life. "Completely unrelated to said surprise, but have you had dinner?" Roman rolled down his window and rested his forearm on it.

"Yes, unfortunately I follow a strict meal plan." He adjusted his glasses.

"Well, i wont question that, but that works for me." Roman left it at that and pulled out his phone.

"Would you happen to have a music preference?" Roman asked as Logan smelled the rose, and finally set it down in his lap.

After a moment of thought, Logan replied, "Well I suppose not. I don't listen to much music other than classical on occasion, and at this point i find it rather..."

"Boring?" Roman mused.

"Insufferable," Logan smiled.

"Alright, I'll enlighten you to something other than Beethoven and Bach," Roman reached for the aux chord, plugged his phone into it, and picked a particular song he felt was... fitting for the moment. The song intro began, and Roman pulled the e-break down and shifted into first gear, pulling out onto the road.

he said "let's get out of this town,

Drive out of the city, away from the crowds..."

I thought "heaven can't help me now,"

Nothing lasts forever...

Logan watched things pass on the road, absentmindedly tapping his ankle to the beat. He didn't recognize the area of town they were heading to, but he didn't expect Roman to kidnap him or anything, so he just observed.

But this is gonna take me down

He's so tall, and handsome as hell

He's so bad, but he does it so well.

I can see the end as it begins

My one condition is

Logan looked straight ahead at the road now, wondering if Roman had selected this specific song for any reason.

Say youll remember me,

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your

Wildest dreams, ah, hah...

They were driving up a hill now, and the road was getting steeper. Logan was beginning to wonder if he should have just rejected Roman from the beginning.

Roman sensed his unease, and turned the music down so that it was just background noise. "I promise I'm not about to murder you in the woods," he said with a small laugh, "There's just a nice spot up here to... observe," he assured vaguely, glancing at Logan.

He nodded with a small smile from the passenger seat, returning to looking around as they passed sloping driveways and mossy-trunked trees.

Just moments later, they emerged into something of a clearing, with a cul-de-sac and a large meadow. There were clusters of small flowers and clovers all over, and the trees cleared perfectly to display the sun was crawling toward the horizon.

They parked and Logan got out, and turned to realize Roman was still in the car, seemingly reaching behind his seat awkwardly and rummaging around. He emerged with a plastic bag and a rolled up plaid blanket. Roman locked the car and led them to the meadow, where he dramatically unrolled the blanket and laid it out, after ruffling it in the wind. Logan sat cross-legged facing what would soon become the sunset, the bottom of the sun's visible sphere nearly dipping itself below the horizon.

Roman sat as well, beginning to dig through the mystery bag, Logan now paying him attention. Roman pulled out two large paper cups, with plastic tops and straws in them. He handed Logan one of the cups, and Logan began inspecting it. It appeared to be a milkshake, likely chocolate flavored due to the brown hue... It looked rather delightful. Logan took a sip and was not disappointed; he'd never actually had a milkshake, at least not since he was very young, so he had to attempt to hide his enjoyment.

"That is quite tasteful," He looked back to Roman, who was tasting his own milkshake.

"Yeah, you struck me as a chocolate type," he leaned back on one hand. "Hope you like the view. I thought it would be nice as a first date to watch the sunset and talk."

Logan gazed out at the sky that faded from blue to purple to red to orange and a bit of yellow, clouds peppered around and absorbing the hues. He certainly did appreciate the view.

"Alright, let's talk then."

...

A few hours later, it had gotten dark and stars were spattered across the sky. Logan was laying with his hands behind his head, watching the sky, and Roman was laid next to him, leaning up on his side and watching Logan's eyes. They'd talked about anything, from childhood memories to opinions and briefly about their home lives. Roman felt very... usual. Everything was going perfectly, and he could feel that fact slamming against his chest. Do I actually like him or is this all just a game to me? Am i being fake, or completely real?

Soon Logan checked his wristwatch and informed Roman it was time he be heading home. They stood, and Logan shivered as Roman collected the blanket. He sighed upon seeing Logan's arms loosely held around himself, trying to keep warm.

Roman rustled his baseball jacket off and draped it over Logan's shoulders.

They made their way back to the car, and as Roman drove them, all Logan could do was lean his head on the window and stare up at the hazy white moon.

Roman dropped him off, walking him up to his door. Logan thanked him for the evening, and tried to return Roman's jacket, but Roman insisted he hold onto it. They shared a small kiss on the doorstep, and bid each other goodnight. Roman drove off into the night, pondering heavily.

#ts logan #logan sanders #virgil sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #roman sanders #patton sanders #ts patton #sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #high school au #slow burn #prinxiety #logicality #patton x logan #roman x virgil

[vasoula]

The Peepshow

Summary: Two months after his redemption journey, Sasuke is back to Konoha and Sakura couldn’t be more happy about them spending a lot of time together. However, things take a hard turn when Sakura is assigned a special mission and she has to hide it from the rest of Team 7. Everything comes spiraling down when Sasuke finds out exactly what she has to do.

Tags: hard rated m, blank period, kinda AU-ish

Author’s notes: Please read, thank you!

Hello sasusaku fandom, it’s me ya girl, back after so many years to join the fandom once more. I have been missing this couple dearly and after going through a lot of fanarts, I stumbled upon my favorite girl and biggest inspiration strawberrycreampiefluff. She had made a mini doujinshi years ago, and I wanted to create a story about it so badly. So, I contracted her, got her blessings and created this mini monster fic you will read below (which she will hopefully recreate into a full fanart comic when she finds time - love you girl! - please support my friend’s art, it’s amazing!). This is a collab between us sort of. The first chapter is like a prologue - introduction to get the gist of things. This takes place after the last, but before sasusaku travels, kind of an alternate way of how sasusaku got together. I tried to keep the characters as close to canon as possible and this my first official full chaptered fic, so please be kind and leave comments and likes to show your opinion and support.

You can also read it on fanfiction and Ao3.

Next chapter

“Act one: Different mission objectives”

Haruno Sakura walks briskly towards the Hokage tower, her high-heeled shinobi sandals clanking against the pavement as she makes her presence known to the people who pass by. A few heads turn around, mostly males, to stare at her. She is known as one of the most beautiful women – if not the most – in Konoha. As the Fifth’s apprentice, she is working at the hospital as the top chief and she is well respected by shinobi villages all around the world for her talent in medical jutsu.

Sakura is currently dressed her hospital clothes, because her shift at the hospital just ended. She is wearing a button up white shirt that’s left slightly unbuttoned when it reaches her chest, a short black skirt and her white medical robe on top. She is heading to meet Tsunade who just asked for her to be present at her office immediately. The pink haired girl already knows what that means and what it entails.

It is a new mission.

That has to be it. It has been months since the last one, and her working hard as a medical ninja limited her chances of being sent into one. She is more than ready for it. However, she has a feeling this is only the start of bad news. Knowing her teacher, it has to be a special kind of mission. Being called so suddenly like that also gives her the heads up to guess the genre of it.

It must be a flower mission.

Yes, flower, Sakura thinks and nods to herself after waving at some people who greet her.

Flower mission is a term for female ninjas only. It is a code for a seduction mission.

Going and especially accepting a seduction mission is a big step for shinobi women. It is a very sensitive topic and it needs to be handled delicately and in secrecy. It is a powerful weapon which when used correctly, the mission will be done easily or quickly depending on the execution.

The three-man team pattern has most young girls create bonds or worse falling in love and it makes them attached in one way or another to their male teammates. That is why most ninja women have a difficulty seducing another man. The life of a ninja is usually short; you never know what could happen and the kunoichis value the idea of love. Still though, a woman’s power is strong and every kunoichi succeeds efficiently in their own little style.

The moment Sakura comes into the office, Tsunade’s head snaps up. The two women hold eye-contact for a few seconds before the younger medic closes the door behind her with a soft thud.

No one else is in the room, so Sakura guesses that whatever the fifth Hokage is about to tell her must be something of importance. She makes her way into the room and with elegant movements sits down on the chair that is positioned right in front of the desk. There are no formalities between apprentice and teacher when no one is around to watch, and since Tsunade made no sign to stop her, she also speaks first.

“Tsunade-sama, you called me.” It is not a question, but it is not a mere observation either.

The older woman sighs and puts her folded hands beneath her chin. Her eyes close for a moment and then she lifts her head upwards, giving Sakura a fond and soft look like a proud mother would give to her grown up child. A blonde strand escapes from her well-made and low ponytail and her red manicured fingers come forth to tag it back to place. An elegant move, and there is no wonder where Sakura took her beautiful ways from.

“Yes, I did,” Tsunade pauses for a second and then hastily continues, going straight to the point. There is no time for pleasantries. “I have a new mission for you.”

There is no surprise on Sakura’s face and Tsunade cannot tell if she already knew what her intentions are or she has simply masked her face with a facade of indifference. A true kunoichi right there, but then again…it could be the influence of a certain brooding male.

Before Sakura could ask more, Tsunade beat her into it and answers to her unspoken question. “It is a seduction mission.”

This time the girl reacts instantly and she blinks profusely, pink eyelashes fanning rosy cheeks repeatedly. “A-ah,” Sakura lets out a squeaky response, knowing the consequences of such mission.  

So I was right! It is a flower mission, she thinks and curses mentally. Here come the arising problems and she has not even started yet.

“I know, but believe me, I have no choice,” Tsunade put her palms atop of the desk and she pushes her chair back slightly, “This mission is specifically made for you.”

The woman knows what she is doing to her student right now, but seriously the girl is one of the best out there. Her exotic looks and endless beauty draws men like magnets to her. Besides, with her alluring ways and witty personality, she can bend even iron willed males, for example, Sasuke Uchiha.

Sakura has already made a list of problems at the back of her mind and her inner self screams in horror.

This is her first official seduction mission. How the hell is she supposed to break the news to rest of Team 7? She cannot straight go up to them and tell them. Naruto will surely react instantly and whine about it until the next decade. She has a feeling Kakashi, being trained under Tsunade, might already know something about this mission and that leaves her with one last important person to tell.

The man her heart yearns for.

After coming back from his redemption journey, Sasuke was a changed man. He was everything she had hoped for. Some parts of his character still remained the same that go back to his genin days, but she saw a new side of him that has been hidden for years, buried deep within all the hatred he harbored for most of his life. The last Uchiha has always been a cool character with a calculating thought process. The difference now was that he was free from the hatred and sins that plagued most of his life.

That is where the healing took place – right at this heart.

While he was away he helped many people during his journey across all the lands. That in return helped him find himself. He learned to love himself again and he stopped being angry at the world. He saw life from a different perspective and by the time he returned the storm inside his mind was calm once more.

Sakura’s heart flourished when he came back two months ago.

The two have been spending time together more than ever. They hang out after Sakura’s shifts at the hospital during the day either alone or with the rest of Team 7, sometimes including Sai. Other days, when their schedules are not so busy, Naruto comes and collects each one of them so they can have dinner at Ichiraku just the three of them. On special occasions, when the Hokage in training feels extra giddy, he will bring Hinata along and they will have something akin to double dates as he likes to call them.

It is an unspoken secret that the relationship between Sasuke and Sakura is a complicated one. They are at the stage where sometimes they act like they are together or other times they are on the verge of being in a relationship. Sakura knows what she is feeling that is for sure. The pure, unwavering love she feels for him is rooted deep within her and grows everyday as she watches him be happier and calmer before her eyes. They have had their moments of intimacy together before. Instances where they became close -  she remembers those intense feelings they shared through eye contact and hushed whispers when they were left alone.

The first one was after the war when Sasuke was in prison. The first time he expressed his feelings towards what had happened between them all those years. All the wrong and the ugly parts of himself he wanted to distinguish himself from.

In those quiet moments in the dark where he could not see, his eyes sealed like the criminal he was, he told her the truth. He trusted her now to reveal the ugly truth of Konoha and its elders. He divulged all the hardships his brother, Itachi Uchiha, had to endure to bring peace to the world. In a whisper, he confessed all about his clan like a dirty secret -like he was the sinner and she was the priest. And like the true healer she was, Sakura helped him see the good in him that she knew was still there and gave him disclosure. He accepted her kind words once more with a simple nod and a quiet thank you. But for Sakura, at the current time, it was more than enough. She saw the change in him. It was a small start but she would accept it. The young woman had endured harder things in the past after all.

Later that night, when she cried angry tears at the unfairness of the world, because now she knew finally about the Uchiha massacre, she knew all of them had to endure something hard in their lives and learn to live with it. But god if it did not hurt her that he was the one left suffering the most. And she just wished, she hoped, her love was enough to heal that part of himself that was trying to recover.

The second one was when he left for his redemption journey. While they had spend a few moments together before he left, nothing compares to that single experience. She knew she had to wait for him again, but this time it was not a tear jerking moment with her heart lurching in her throat. No, this time, it was her mind buzzing with all the implications his fingers left on her forehead and the fond look he was giving her.

The third one was when the Konoha 12 had their first night all together again. Of course Naruto had a hand in organizing once again. That little rascal, Sakura had thought then fondly. This guy was always trying his best to bring people together and he was doing a damn good job at it. The fact that he was able to persuade Sasuke into an outing like that was a feat itself.

Everything was going smoothly until the drinks started pouring in. Shots after shots of sake had Sakura feeling pleasantly tipsy that night, but she was not the only with that effect of alcohol on her. Somehow everyone had more than a little in their system and that did not exclude the moody male of Team 7. He was acting normal alright, Sakura would have told you, she was sure of it. But then, Ino Yamanaka, her notorious best friend was dragging her along the dance floor and she could not help but feel a hot stare at the back of her head. Goosebumps arising on her skin had her on edge. She knew then he was blatantly staring at her and he was not trying to hide it in the slightest. It was like then everyone knew what going on and her axis had sifted on its head. She could not fathom this would be the place where Sasuke would lose all his inhibitions, much less with everyone watching in anticipation his next moves. Naruto on the other hand, unbeknownst to her, was throwing just the right comments here and there, making Sasuke see Sakura from a different perspective. About time, if you had asked Naruto; he watched Sasuke analyze Sakura dancing as if she was a riddle ready to be solved.

Sasuke, at the hot age of twenty, was now a young man and finding a woman attractive was the natural course of life. However, for him these new profound feelings confused him. He did not know what he was feeling and all he wanted to do now was stare at Sakura until his eyes tired themselves out. He was ready to activate his sharingan just so he could commit that image to his memory.

That feeling in his chest was starting to bother him though and suddenly he felt all the stares on him from the intense chakra he was producing. Looking around he felt second hand embarrassment for himself, his ears getting red. Getting a shot of sake from the nearby table, Sasuke gulped down its contents and got ready to leave his position at the bar. He could not handle to keep his emotions in check any longer and this was bad. He was not ready to admit to himself what he was feeling and trying to suppress it any longer could do more harm than good. Better he left the situation right now before he put him and Sakura in a compromising position he was not ready to handle yet.

Right at that moment, Sakura decided to turn around, her dress sticking to her like a vice from all the sweat her intense dancing had caused. One look at Sasuke had time freezing. They held an intense eye contact for a few seconds, and her heart fluttered in her chest. She saw the change in him, she has seen that look before when other men had stared her way in the past. It was then she knew, tonight had been something more to him even though nothing has transpired between them yet. Maybe Sasuke was not ready to acknowledge these feelings yet, but Sakura had hope that this was the start of something new between them.

Feeling bold she started to approach him, confident in herself and brave enough thanks to the alcohol she had consumed. The moment she moved, she saw him flatter in his steps. He was about to leave and escape. The fearless Sasuke Uchiha was scared of what was transpiring between them, but she was not about to let him have his chance to escape this time. Sakura saw his jaw clenching and his hand flattering at his side from its place at the bar stool. He stared at her unblinkingly, waiting for her next move like they were about to have a fight at the training grounds.

Sakura then approached the bar like she owned the place and opened her mouth to say the most simple words known to existence.

“Hey, Sasuke”, she greeted in a whoosh, a breathless exclamation. She leaned against the bar stool and waited for the inevitable dismissal of denial.

Sakura found herself surprised however when he went rigid and leaned forward his towering body over her like he was about to whisper a dirty secret in her ear.

“You are different from the last time I remember you,” He confessed hotly, his mouth near her neck. If it was not for the obvious fact that she knew him well, any other person would have thought he was drunkenly leaning on her, but Sakura is not anybody and she understands this the way of him hiding his emotions from showing on his face in the shadows her neck provides.

What a weird way of seeking comfort from his own shyness, Sakura thought.

She idly recalled then that they were not in fact alone and Naruto was right behind them. When he started making obscene signs with his hands Sakura felt herself flush from head to toe, but the murderous glint in her eyes was apparently enough to stop Naruto’s crudeness.

“Eh, Sasuke-kun, what do you mean?”, she asked hesitantly, her hand raising and resting on Sasuke’s back in a sense of comfort. The soft material of his black shirt damp against her palm.

They were almost approaching the stage of hugging right in front of everybody.

Before they could complete the hug though, Sasuke’s head turned to the left, his cheek almost brushing against Sakura’s. The pink haired girl shyly turned her head slightly towards his direction, their faces almost touching. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the effect he still had on her and damn him if he he did not thrive on it.

He could think of all the nice things he could say to her, now it was the perfect time to take a step closer to approaching the inevitable connection they have. But his mind had other plans when the words slipped out of his mouth. In a teasing manner he was only capable of, he smirked and said, “More annoying than ever.”

He was sure she must have caught on his teasing by now. Using bitter words of the past to heal their wounds by putting another meaning to it. She was a smart woman and she could understand his actions better than anyone.

Sasuke knew she had caught on when he felt her fist punch lightly his stomach as if to punish him for insulting her.

“That is not a very nice way of complimenting someone, Sasuke-kun,” she whispered angrily, facing him completely. Any traces of wonder were gone from her emerald eyes replaced with mirth and she continued, smiling menacingly at him, “I thought I taught you better than that.”

“Hm,” Sasuke hummed in response and stood straight once again, looking down at her.

By now they had become a spectacle to their friends, the black haired male could feel Naruto almost bristling with excitement from behind him and he was not about to disappoint his friend who has been pestering him to get on with his feelings already.

“I guess we should spend more time together so I can get better at it.”

The double meaning behind his words was evident.

Sasuke Uchiha then patted Sakura Haruno’s head like it was the most natural thing in the world to do and smiled down at her gently.

His female teammate took a big breath through her nose, rosy cheeks glowing, and crossed her arms across her chest. She had him where she wanted him.

“Damn right we should!”

That was one week ago from her current position at the Hokage office. Just when she was making a great progress with seducing Sasuke, she has to go and approach another man for a mission. Talk about making matters weird between them. The worst part is the fact that she has to tell him. She wonders what his reaction is going to be considering they are not together yet. Is he going to act jealous or indifferent?

Who is she kidding? He is just going to glare her with this stupid scary look he gives in assassination missions to terrify people off the moment the words come out of her mouth and that is it.

“I haven’t finished yet,” Tsunade literally saw the thoughts displayed across Sakura’s face. It is like her life passed before her eyes, and her skin got a tad paler.

“Of course there is more,” the pink haired girl mumbles sadly while looking down, but the Hokage lets it slide.

“You will have back-up,” Tsunade says and sees with the corner of her eye Sakura sucking in a breath, “the rest of Team 7 will be with you,” and then next thing she knows the girl is chocking on air.

“W-what?” Sakura coughed out, giving her teacher a desperate look.

She feels like she is the center of the world and it is slowly closing up on her. Life suddenly looks less appealing, because good old Team 7 is back on track again with Sakura’s first seduction mission as a head start.

“Tsunade-sama, please tell me you are joking.” The pink haired medic grabs the sides of the armchair and hopes it does not break and crumble along with her composure.

The young woman also hopes her teacher is having some kind of twisted pleasure out of this because she is certainly not feeling happy with the news.

Tsunade wants to reprimand her student for losing her temper, but she understands what the girl is going through and also knows she in no better position to talk when it comes to matters like this. Still though, ears and eyes are everywhere and they must keep a low profile when in the Hokage’s office.

“Sakura,” The curvy female looks at her seriously, “Team 7 will be the back-up of this mission and that’s final.”

I am doing it for your sake, Tsunade wants to say but keeps quiet instead.

Somehow, Sakura understands where her teacher is coming from. This will be a test for both sides. It is a test for her that is for sure. A test for patience, a test for her relationship, a test for her seduction abilities both on the target and Sasuke, because let’s be honest, who is going to calm down the last Uchiha other than her?

Sakura closes her eyes, takes a calming breath through her mouth and then controls the pattern as taught by Ino’s yoga lessons. She could do it this.

The young female opens her pretty green eyes once again and then stares at Tsunade straight in eye, a determined expression on her face. The will of fire is practically seeping through her and her fiery temper is burning up again but for another cause.

“That’s the spirit,” Tsunade says proudly and hands her the scroll that has been lying on the wooden desk the whole time. “This is your target, Misty Jade.”

The first thing Sakura does when she steps into the house is to check for a specific chakra signature around the area. Sasuke pays frequent visits to her house nowadays you would think he lived in there, having keys and all, but alas.

She lets out a long sigh of relief, glad that she did not detect Sasuke’s compelling presence. Thank heavens, cost is clear. The twenty year old girl suspects that the males of Team 7 had already been called to Tsunade’s office, the second she was out of the vicinity. She mentally praises her teacher and then she decides to prepare for battle. The kunoichi briefly wonders how the hell she is supposed to deal with this. She has no clue how to handle this.

Sakura runs upstairs, heading straight to the bedroom. She slams the door open, scroll still in hand, and starts rummaging through her things in order to pack. After a few minutes of checking everything, she put all the necessary items in her mission bag. From medical supplies to energy pills to scrolls to clothes to a sleeping bag and lastly to the money she will need for the seduction necessities she has to buy. Finally finished, she sits down on the bed, crumpling the blue silky sheets in the process. Then, Sakura unrolls the scroll and reads.

Mission #B039                     Type: B-rank               Specialist: F (female)  

Stage: Pre                             Place: Village hidden in the Waterfalls

Target: Misao Takashi

Gender: Male

Age: 25 years old

Characteristics: Red hair, blue eyes and relatively tall.

Efficiency: Messenger

Information: Misao Takashi is an important messenger between two feud lords that control and lead illegal product transportations. Your mission is to seduce said messenger that has in his possession a folder with contract papers which contain info for the next meet up and also a pair of keys. This is the part one of the main ANBU mission that will follow after you succeed. Mission includes back-up. Good luck.

The kunoichi falls back on the bed with a flop, thinking how she should approach the mission. She idly scratches her scalp and tosses her body around from side to side, her long pink locks sprawled across the bed sheets moving along with her. Sakura knows what the village hidden in the Waterfalls is known for.  And if her guesses are right, a guy like him would go to a special kind of place. The men of Team 7 will also go there.

“This is just great!” Sakura shouts even though no one is in the room.

She stares up at ceiling, her mind thinking of all the possibilities and scenarios. The pink haired girl knows what to do to succeed in this mission, however hiding from Sasuke is the main problem.

With huff she stands up and starts pacing around the room while babbling nonsense and muttering profanities out loud, until the idea hits her.

“Of course,” Sakura jumps on the bed, “Tsunade-shishou is the solution!”

She lies down, calm once again, and grabs a nearby pillow, squeezing it close to her chest. The warmth it provides calms her for a second, but she resists the urge to snuggle it closer. The girl can already imagine the Uchiha’s frown when she will tell him that she will be staying at Tsunade’s for a few days in order to work on some papers that have to do with the hospital.

Sakura just hopes he will believe it for her sake and for the sake of this mission.

                                                        ❤︎    

“It’s dirty and disgusting in here,” Sasuke mutters angrily, sitting uncomfortably on the animal print armchair, “Why do we even have to do this?”

The hot pink, soft and furry material irritates him even more as his elbow barely glides on it, making it difficult for him to nurse his drink. It is too warm, too velvety.

The last Uchiha almost growls out of sheer annoyance. This mission is far too low for his standards. He cannot believe he allowed himself to be dragged in here. His pride is hurt goddammit. Yes, he may be a man, but he has never set foot in a pleasure house. Or as his best friend and ex-sensei like to call it: a strip club.

The atmosphere is suffocating him, the lights are too dim. All kinds of different and hypnotizing aromas assault his senses, making his clear mind drunk and hazy. He cannot tell if it is his alcoholic beverage that is making him feel this way or it is the misty cloud of seduction and pleasure filled nights that surround this place.

The men of Team 7 have been assigned on a mission just yesterday as a backup to an ANBU specialist. Sasuke was definitely not pleased with the news, but he could not go against the fifth Hokage’s orders as much he wanted to, so he mildly complained until he was shushed by Tsunade. So, here they are today, in the place that their target and the other shinobi are supposed to be. Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki and Kakashi Hatake, being expert ninjas, have already detected the target sitting in the middle of the area, near the front. And now they have to wait. If something goes wrong, only then they are allowed to interfere.

“Focus, Sasuke.” Kakashi says calmly, a white hospital mask covering his face instead of his usual ninja attire. “A mission is a mission.”

The grey haired shinobi is collected as always, and Sasuke cannot help but scowl.

As if the ridiculous place is not enough problems, they were also forced to wear formal clothes. Supposedly, they are ordinary men looking for some fun and not ninjas who are capable of killing anyone in the room within seconds. Thus, the men of Team 7 have to make it believable by dressing up fancily to blend in with crowd and to stay undistinguished.

“Well, it’s not that bad in here.” Naruto tells them with a foxy grin on his face, clearly excited to be in a place like this. A slight blush is covering his cheeks since he has been consuming a few portions of alcohol for an hour now. The blond is pleasantly tipsy and happier than usual.

“Shut up Naruto,” Sasuke turns to his left and addresses his best friend, “If Hinata found out you’re here, she would dump you.”

Sasuke is very irritated, and that results to more insults and jibs than normal. He crosses his legs, right ankle meeting left knee, just to move and do something out of spite.

“T-That’s not true!” The man immediately tries to explain, “I told her it was a mission and she was okay with it!”

Naruto’s face visibly falls, and he looks at Sasuke with his puppy dog eyes. However, before the blonde could set off, being an emotional drunk and all, Sasuke just looks at other side, ready to ignore the impending whining.

Is he even allowed to be drinking on such mission? Kakashi better do something, Sasuke thinks, complaining inside his head instead.

“Don’t fight.” Their teacher interrupts, knowing how those two are and how bad they can get when Sakura is not around to stop them.

He has even given them just enough freedom, permitting them to drink, because he knows they are the back-up of this mission and not the main person. Kakashi strongly believes that intervention will not be needed, considering this an efficient ANBU specialist sent by the Hokage herself.

So, Kakashi just sits relaxed, waits and enjoys the show.

The oldest member of Team 7 is wearing a dark grey button-up shirt, the collar slightly open and a pair of black trousers. Naruto has a similar style, except he sports a nice pair of jeans with a light blue button-up shirt that makes his gorgeous eyes stand out more. Sasuke opts for a more classic style though, completing his look with black trousers, a white button-up shirt (with the first button undone) and an onyx suit jacket to top it off.

It is an extraordinary night today since the place is filled to the brim with men of all ages and from different villages, plus, the interior design of the club is full of pretty decorations. As the shining neon letters say outside on the wooden board above the club’s name, Hustler’s Ho, it promises a night of busty tricks and naughty chicks, and of course a special guest. Sasuke didn’t pay attention to the name, it is useless information anyways.

The waitresses are all beautiful women holding silver trays with glitter and fruity scented oils applied on their bodies and every time they move under the low dimmed lights to serve the customers, their smooth skins sparkle teasingly. The atmosphere is thick with cigarette smoke, but despite that, the room somehow smells good because of the enticing scents that come off from all the perfume the females of the club have put on.

Red velvet curtains hang from the ceiling at the left side of the club and make up for entrances to the changing rooms, while the bar and the bathrooms are at the right side of it. In the center of the room is the stage where the lights shine the most since the ceiling has a lot of spotlights in all kinds of colors there. The rest of the huge area is only provided with low dimmed lights and that makes the dancers at the stage stand out more. The walls are painted a dark pink color and it gives the room a sense of obscurity and raw sexuality.

Great amount of money gets thrown at the stage as the ladies entertain the crowd with their dancing skills either on the poles or on the floor. Excited shouts of more can be heard even from where the members of Team 7 are seated at the back of the club. The dancers are barely dressed in Sasuke’s opinion; too much skin is bared for the eyes to feast. He averts his eyes, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

A dark blonde girl is currently dancing, her back turned to the pole, her hands up in the air touching the steel above her head. She is moving her lower half sexily in fluid left and right motions, her hips rolling expertly. The girl is wearing purple lingerie with her hair up in a high ponytail, and money is stuck in all kind of places from the men who put it there. She keeps it professional, but her face still expresses the hidden erotic feelings she wants to convey.

Then, all of a sudden, the music slowly quiets down and a deep male voice comes from the speakers. “Thank you dear, you were amazing as always! Please, grab your money and clear the stage.”

Sasuke silently scoffs and rolls his eyes at this. He should really stop drinking, the alcohol is making him show his irritation and that is not a good thing when on a mission. He has to keep his face impassive, bring forth a cold facade. Especially when in that said mission, Sakura is not there to calm him down and Naruto only breathes to make it worse for him with his antics. Of course, Kakashi is nonchalant as always.

The crowd gets almost completely silent, only a few murmurs can be heard now, and the unknown voice continues. “Only today, we have a special guest dancing…”

Without warning, a swift sound gains the attention of everyone inside the room. It is a whoosh of air fluttering against hard yet soft and velvet material that signals that the curtains have just been opened. The whispers get a tad bit louder at this, but get lost when the raspy voice resonates through the room once again. “Now, gentlemen, prepare to meet tonight’s special guest, a beauty and an exotic flower among the ladies…”

The sound came from the left side of the club, near the back. Heels clanking against the floor in a steady rhythm and elegant manner are the only thing that can be heard. The steps are light and slow paced. It has a nice ring to it, the continuous clicking is pleasant to the ears and everyone is holding their breath in anticipation. The males of Team 7 hear loud gasps, watching as men are getting blown away by the mere sight of this special guest. Heads are turned, all the attention clearly diverted behind. The pace has a unique air of confidence that no one can quite put their finger on. The woman has a stealthy and powerful walking. A soft tune starts playing as an intro while the woman comes closer and closer to the stage.

The dancer narrows the distance between her and the stage as she takes painfully slow steps towards it or so it seems to the eager men. The shadow that still hovers near the area where Team 7 is –thanks to the somber and tricky lighting– hides her, until finally, a curvy form starts to appear as she comes forth to where the light is. Her silver, almost dark gray, stilettos are the first things that show. A few agonizingly and torturous seconds later, long legs and fair smooth skin come into view.

Naruto reacts first, an exclamation leaving his lips. It is not a sharp inhalation of amazement, but it is a loud gasp of shock. His blue eyes widen and there are hazy no more. Cold sweat forms on his forehead, and he is feeling like someone threw cold water on him to wake him up and bring him back to the harsh reality. It is definitely not an easy feat to astound the ninja who is known as the best at surprising people.

The voice resonates through the room once again and the male starts praising the newcomer dancer, “An exotic babe, outstanding with high class skills.” The announcement is over, and the music gets steadily louder while the special guest is one step away from the stage.

She just stands still with her back on the cheering crowd for a few seconds as if to bewitch the already elated men with her beauty. The young woman is posing sensually and it compliments her already perfect body. She is captivating in every sense. Her legs are long and toned while her tights are voluptuous and her rear is curvy. Her waist is slight bent and it makes her behind stand out even more. Her back sparkles teasingly thanks to the glittery substance that has been applied on her skin everywhere on her body. She lifts her left hand up to course it through her silky long locks while her right one is resting on her inner tight in a provocative pose.

That unmistakable pink hair belongs only to one person.

Kakashi feels his mouth hanging open inside his mask. This event took a very fast turn for the worst and he does not like the ending result at all. She is the last person he could think of going up there if you had asked him about it. He closes his eyes and hums quietly awaiting for the impeding doom waiting to happen.

Sasuke reacts not a second too late and his breath hitches. A flash of light blinds him and he blinks his eyes twice in response. The lighting must be playing tricks on him, because there is no fucking way this is Sakura ready to go up there. He freezes and his face goes rigid. His calculating yet beautiful onyx eyes widen and his naturally pouty lips part slightly in shock. A wave of cool air passes by him –probably someone activated a fan to create more special effects for such a unique guest– and it makes his soft black hair flutter in the wind. An intoxicating scent fills his senses and clouds every ounce of rationality within him.

The special guest goes up the stage, turns around and Sasuke can breathe no more.

“Please welcome, Misty Jade!”

Sasuke Uchiha, for the first time in years, sees red.

#sasusaku #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #ssfanfiction #ssfanfic #ssfic #sasusaku fanfiction #depending on the response i am going to get i am going to post the next chapter #this is a tease fic yall #my baby strawberrycreampiefluff is the bessst #my first after yeaaaars boi #yes i am 4everxd #vasoula writes

[ficsnroses]

Prompt Fic #8

❧ Prompt : First time seeing each other naked. fluff/angst. slight nsfw. Requested by anon 🖤

☒ Pairing : John Wick x Reader.

☒ Summary : John falls insecure when you make love for the first time.

☒ Word Count : 900

Two months ago when she’d first met John, she’d never thought she’d end up falling this deep for him, this quick. Mysterious at first, she’d passed him a few times in the park during her 6:30AM morning jogs. He’d be there each day, with a beautifully matted, gray pitbull. He’d finally spoke to her one morning, striking up a conversation about the New York City weather as of late.

That afternoon, she met him for coffee, and the rest was history.  

John was a man of few words, few emotions portrayed; yet that didn’t mean he doesn’t feel. John feels- perhaps deeper than most do. After the anguishes of his life, John never thought he’d find love again, yet he did. And this, perhaps, was the deepest love he’d ever felt.

Tonight, John would finally be able to show her how much exactly he loves her, and how much she means to each piece of his being, each and every part of his entirety.

With the bedroom lights dimmed to a mere bronze bedside glow, John sighs in complete, and utter, complacency. On the silken sheets of his bed lays the woman he loves truly, so dearly, completely unwound, urging him for the taking. She’s precious, delicate; as if a porcelain doll he’d fear he’d break. She was truly perfect, in each form.

And she was his. All his.

“Is this still what you want?” John whispers, cautious against her rosy lips, hands moving to cup her tantalising cheeks. His voice proves low, discreet with care, attentiveness. He’d never harm her; even if on accident.

“Yes.” She whispers, smooth hands taking hold of his calloused, gently guiding them to the hem of her top, slowly, gently, guiding them up to cup her voluptuous breasts. With a sharp breath, John lets out a laxed moan, feeling the lace of her bra to his palms. “Make love to me, John.”

He nods, a tender kiss placed to her lips before he pulls back, sturdy fingers peeling off the fabric of her top, as she works in removing his. Thereafter, she tugs at the buckle of his belt, removing the strap before pulling at his jeans. She sees him through his boxers, full and thriving; a small gulp at the way he already looked so pleasing. John’s hands delicately unhook her bra, allowing the lace straps to fall off her shoulders, removing the barrier that keeps her modesty from him. Lightly, he allows the fabric to drop off her breasts, leaving her beauty exposed for him completely.

“Beautiful, baby.” John coos, lips leaving adorned kisses embellished across the satin skin, sensitive to his touch as her nipples perk. Silently, John indulges in her, his deep voice quiet into the valley of her breasts. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.” Trailing lower, the digit of his index slips into her waistband, silently asking permission, which she ceaselessly grants, quietly moaning at the way his hand cups her breast, kneading gently. Within the next few moments, Y/N’s bottoms have been peeled off by John, her underwear long forgotten on the lonely bedroom floor as John takes her in, completely unadorned, bare and exposed for him.

To say she took his breath away, would be an understatement. Each inch of her exquisiteness is soft, silky, delicate to the touch, a dire contrast to his rough, bruised and battered skin. He feels ashamed almost, that he, a cruel shadow of sin had been given her, this soft, pure angel, so valuable. His eyes fall downcast, doleful as with his arms on either side of her, his body still on top. When his eyes close wound, she notices the slight change of mood, suddenly cautious of what had crossed his mind.

Did he not want her anymore?

With her hands slow, she cups his face, whispering. “John? Baby?” When he doesn’t respond, she sits up slightly, desperately attempting to meet his gaze. “Is everything alright?” To the sound of the bedroom clock ticking, John connects his chocolate eyes with hers, sincerely expressing.

“I don’t deserve you, Y/N.”

And with that, her heart breaks for him, knowing well how his demons haunt him day and day out. Moving from under him, allowing herself to shift on top of him as she gently lays him back on the bed, her lips leave small, loving kisses to his bare chest, making sure to pay extra attention to the purple bruises that pepper his skin, each piece of him that makes him,

him.

She’d seen the bruises before, seen the way he ignores them, refusing to acknowledge that he does wound. Today, as she takes in all of him, in his entirety, she pays special attention to those parts of him, the parts that don’t feel love.

“Jonathan, you deserve so much. I promise.” And with her movement slow, she looks up at him, reassuring. “Do you trust me?”

“More than anything.” He replies, genuinely as she continues the removal of his clothes, pushing his boxers off his body in a swift motion. To the release, his booming cock springs out, erect hard to the sight of her body on display. It surrounds in a dark mane of hair, bigger than she’d anticipated; the rosy tip on top seeping a few drops of pre cum down his shaft. A thick vein runs up the generous length, and she blushes at the thought of seeing him this way, knowing he’s all hers.

Only hers.

“Then let me show you, just how much I love you.” She murmurs, taking hold of his hand in hers, lips meeting his in a honey seared kiss, scorching as they indulge, appreciating each other, in anticipation of how divine it would finally feel,

when their bodies would melt together as one, immortalizing what they had,

Forever.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

#john wick x reader #keanu reeves x reader

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

What if (Construction worker/ high school sweetheart AU)

Summary: Life leads Y/N and Grayson in different directions after high school and they meet years later, rehashing the past. But life has its own plans for old lovers who just wanted one another.

Warnings: angst, fluff, death

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N - This was in my drafts for a long time, so if you guys like it and want more, let me know.

*           ***               *              ***               *

Two hearts, one valve, pumpin' the blood, we were the flood, we were the body. Two lives, one life, stickin' it out, lettin' you down and makin' it right.

Seasons, they will change, life will make you grow, dreams will make you cry because everything is temporary, everything will slide, our love will never die.

I know that birds fly in different directions, but I hope to see you again.

Sunsets, sunrises, livin' the dream, watchin' the leaves, changin' the seasons. Some nights I think of you, relivin' the past, wishing it'd last, wishing and dreaming.

Imagine Dragons - Birds

*           ***               *              ***               *

There are few big moments that make a person. Moments that bear the weight of a thousand suns that claim pieces of your soul. Some are love, a goodbye or a tragedy. For me, it was all three, all at the same time.

I left New Jersey six years ago soon after a tragedy claimed the lives of both my parents. I was only seventeen at the time, still a stupid teenager with a conviction everything my parents say is useless and only there as punishment. We were on our way home from my grandparents, arguing about a party I wanted to attend when a car swerved into our lane and dad had no chance of avoiding it.

I remember every detail of the crash, every single moment in slow motion, including the moment I realized I would be an orphan before darkness took me too.

After that, my life changed irrevocably. The only comfort I had was my high school sweetheart, Grayson Dolan and his big bear hugs I melted into.

We meet very few people who can shake up your world and still keep you steady. Grayson Dolan was all that and more. My heart always felt comfortable and safe in his hands. I believe we all encounter three different loves in our lives – your soulmate, the love of your life and eventually the one you settle for. Some people get to meet only one, some two, while others meet all three.

I don’t know which one of these is Grayson, after all, our story had an abrupt ending.

The funeral came and went. My grandparents moved to our house to take care of me, but I felt suffocated. Every inch of that house represented them and it haunted me. Survival guilt ruined me. The guilt was like gasoline in my guts. My insides died slowly in the toxicity, needing no more than a spark to set it ablaze. The fire burnt me out so badly there was nothing left but a shell, an outline of a person. Staying in New Jersey would have killed me, I just knew it.

The moment I turned eighteen, I set off to a new beginning.

I begged him to come with me. He begged me to stay. Things were said and that night I had to say goodbye to the only person that anchored me.

Alas, I said goodbye to Grayson Dolan too.

So here I am, six years later in the big city with my very own company. I never self-medicated with alcohol or drugs, rather worked harder to reach my goals. More work you put in, less time you have to think about what hurts you.

And this distance hurt me. Leaving Grayson destroyed me.

I never stopped thinking about what I left behind, about what could have been. But I learned to live with my choices. I had to.

Some people are meant to leave a mark in your life, but they don’t have to stay. No one ever does. People always leave, some willingly and some are forced to, but the end result is the same – you can only ever count on yourself.

"Your meeting at 2 is pushed back. Now you have the time to meet with the construction team that's gonna stand in for Fred." Lily, my assistant informed and I nod, sipping on my tea before rushing out the door. My company deals with architecture, building and interior designing and my usual construction crew bailed in the last minute, forcing me to look for another.

"You also have to meet the new architect. It took me two weeks to find him and we will not cancel!" Lily ordered, making me giggle. “I mean it. He comes highly recommended and his work so far matches your vision so perfectly.”

"I'll do it. Just point me in the right direction." Hands raised in mock surrender, I follow her index finger to the conference room and I nearly gasp at the beautiful man waiting inside.

With my head held high and back straight, I walk into the room, ready to meet this exquisite specimen.

"Sorry for the wait." I start with an apology, immediately offering a hand to shake which he gladly accepts.

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N, the owner and acting CEO of this company." I finish the introduction, noticing the man's smile growing which only accentuates his naturally handsome features.

"Pleasure is all mine." Bowing his head, angling my hand up ever so slightly, he presses his lips to the back of it like a proper gentleman. It’s almost impossible not to swoon over the gesture or the British accent I noted immediately when he spoke.

"Although, I must say I'm disappointed you do not remember me." He feigns hurt, letting my hand go slowly, reluctantly.

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, wetting my lips and take a second look at the man. “Pardon?”

His dark blonde hair is perfectly curly, long enough for them to form but not to fall to his forehead as it would make it seem unkempt. His large, deep-set blue eyes bore into mine almost as if he’s looking for something he cared for dearly but lost along the way. A spark hiding behind his heavy look reminds me of a flame I once lost myself. The color is different, but the emotion remains the same.

His lips are set in a confident smirk, aware of my hungry, shameless gaze. His lips are rosy instead of pink, small instead of plush. His cheekbones are set high and defined, just as is his sharp jawline that could cut glass like a diamond.

He's tall. Much taller than I am. The broad shoulders give enough definition to his muscles so one can easily conclude he works out, but doesn't kill himself in the gym.

He is the epitome of beauty. Perfection. I can't deny that.

"I'm sorry. I don't believe we've met." I apologize again, wanting to keep this man around. For business purposes.

"It's Troy Lahey. We met when I was just an assistant. I suppose I didn't leave a lasting impression." Quirking an eyebrow, Troy brushes the awkwardness away as he helps me take my seat like a gentleman would.

Grayson used to do that for me as well. Opening the door, taking out the chair, even carrying my bag no matter how pink or flowery it is. A rare quality in men these days. Even after all these years, I compare everyone to Grayson. It’s involuntary, almost like a compulsive need.

"I'll make sure I remember you now." I muss, steering the conversation business wise. It didn't take long for us to reach an agreement as he is an agreeable man, very open minded and open to adventure.

"Have you ever hear about Rosie's?" He stops to ask just as I stand to take my leave. I turn around with lips part, possibly some worry passing my features. No matter how hard I’ve worked on my poker face, I still can’t hide my surprise. I can’t remember the last time a man as attractive like him paid any attention to me. More likely, I can’t remember the last time I paid any attention to a man, any man.

"Please don't tell me they're closing. It's my favorite restaurant." I frown, seeing his face light up as he stands as well.

"Nothing like that. I was just wondering if I could buy you dinner this Friday. Or any day you please?" He proposes and I nearly choke on my saliva. He's handsome. He's intelligent. He's everything I searched for and everything I avoided to find.

My heart is still bleeding. My heart still needs time. Six years isn't enough. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.

"Since we've just agreed to work together on a project, I cannot in good conscience agree to that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to." I say politely, noting his smile grow as if he took my rejection as a challenge and although I'm sure it bruised his ego, he won't just stop. He knows I like him and he seems like a man who fights for what he wants.

"I'm a determined man and I think you know that."

"Arrogant." I challenge, fueling the fire.

"Mhmm...I'd say confident." His charming accent can stop a women's heart and while I'd usually find the persistence annoying, he doesn't annoy me. If anything, he amuses me.

But I walk out the door regardless, waving over my shoulder.

Rushing halfway across town, I manage to get to my second meeting just in time. Still in a frenzy, I walk into the meeting only to find someone I never thought I'd see again.

Dropping my files, I feel my legs wobble as I stumble forward and lose footing.

Strong arms wrap around me, catching me in the nick of time and I open my eyes to find myself in a warm embrace of my first love.

"Grayson?" I breathe out his name, my hand instinctively cupping his cheek like I did all those years ago.

"It's really you." He says slowly, his eyes taking me in like I'm a mirage. His earthly hues glaze over with tears as I swallow my own.

Six years of distance between us. Six years of silence, of thinking what he must be doing and how he’s doing. Six years of picking up the phone to call him just to hear his voice. Six years and now he's here with me, holding me tightly like his life depends on it.

"Hi." I smile, feeling him slowly steady my body, but on the inside I'm fireworks and tsunamis, hurricanes catching on fire.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, not meaning to be rude, just curious. Leaning back on the desk as his hold relents, I interlock my fingers to stop my hands from shaking.

Grayson rubs the back of his neck nervously as he always did, shyly looking to his feet first before allowing himself to truly look at me.

He's scanning my body, looking for something that remained the same, something to cling to. I find myself doing the same.

His hair is no longer floppy nor falling in his eyes, making it seem darker, cropped almost. His eyebrows are a little less bushy and I can't help but wonder if he has someone plucking the extra hair like I used to do whenever I managed to overpower him long enough or bribe him with a tasty treat...or myself. His lips are the same plushy pink, perfectly smooth and kissable.

Instead of smooth skin, he bears a stubble, adding age onto his once young looks. His eyes remain the same, the understanding, and kind, gentle soul shining through and he still has the wing shaped earring I bought him. It was a gift for our first month anniversary where I promised I'd be his angel, one to keep him safe as long as the earring remains in its place.

Holding my breath at that realization, I swallow thickly, allowing the need for tears to wither away.

He's grown wider, there are more muscles and definitely more tattoos. I wonder if he had our matching tattoo removed.

“It’s going to be fine.” Grayson speaks slowly, his hands clutching mine as a grin replaces his smirk. “I’ll hold your hand and everything.”

Rolling my eyes at him, I raise an eyebrow. “My parents will kill me. This isn’t even legal, Gray.” Biting my lower lip, I cast my gaze down to his thigh and the unmistakable ink etched into his skin.

“I won’t force you, but I really think it would be cute, ya know? Couple goals and all that? Imagine telling this story to our kids!” The excitement in his eyes is overpowering, entirely enchanting and I’m not sure if he’s even aware of the effect he has on people. His smile, his happiness is positively infectious. He’s incredibly charismatic and charming, turning heads without even trying.

Sighing, I nod. “As long as I get a kiss every time it hurts.”

Pecking my lips, Grayson nods too. “You have yourself a deal, my angel.”

I look at him and still see my Grayson, just a little bigger and stronger, teensy bit older but incredibly beautiful.

Does he still see me as me? Have I changed? Does he find me attractive now? Did I ever even cross his mind?

"I, uh...I was just supposed to deliver some papers. I didn't know I was delivering them to you." He puts his hands on his hips, licking his lips. His gaze wanders, scared to make eye contact.

"Construction crew?" I inquire, unsure what to do when all I want is for him to hold me like we're teenagers again and tell me all he's done or seen since we parted.

"Yeah. Ethan and I started our own little business. This was actually his idea." Grayson frowns, suspecting Ethan had organized this meeting behind his back, but I don't think so. I would have known, would I not?

"It’s really good to see you." He focuses on me once more and my heart jumps. "I missed you." He adds and I know it's over for me. All my what ifs are standing before me, incorporated into one man I had never stopped loving and no matter how hard I fight it, I want to be around him longer.

"And I you. Is it possible for you to stay? Have dinner with me while you're here?" I offer courageously, terrified he might say no.

"I'd love that!" He claps his hands together, a wide smile taking over his face and I see his eyes light up.

Smiling too, I let my heart guide me for the night. If nothing else, I should at the very least have the courage to spend a few more hours with him. After all this time, it will either offer us a second chance or give me closure.

“I have a car waiting for me, it can take us to Rosie’s.” Without thinking, I take his hand only to pause, questioning if it’s alright.

In my moment of doubt, Grayson interlocks our fingers and I let out a relieved sigh. “Rosie’s? Is it your favorite restaurant?”

Giggling, I nod. “Yeah. I always have my faves, but you knew that already.”

Once outside, Grayson steps before me, releasing my hand and just as I’m about to protest, I find he did it so he’d open the car door for me. Fighting the urge to smile, I pray my cheeks aren’t blushing at the gesture, but my eyes are flooded with emotions regardless.

“Are you okay?” Grayson’s hand rests on my hip and I hold my breath, nodding vehemently.

“Yeah, the wind is cold.” I point at my eyes, forcing a smile. “Cold winds are ruthless to my eyes.” Sniffling, I sit inside and send Lily a quick text to get me a seat at Rosie’s. Leaving my phone aside, I tuck my shaky hands under my thighs.

“It’s been so long since I came to New York. I didn’t even know you’re here now.” Grayson moves a little closer, his hand nearly brushing my thigh and I couldn’t help but glance at it every so often.

“I moved back last year. Los Angeles was beautiful and I loved the climate, but New York…It’s the closest to home.” Licking my lips, I shrug. “I guess I needed a change of scenery.”

“Miss, Lily wanted you to know Rosie’s closed for the day, but she made a reservation down in that new restaurant she mentioned. She said you’d know which.” The driver explains and I nod, grateful for the interruption. The last thing I need now is to overwhelm Grayson with all the reasons why I wanted to be in New York.

“That’s fine. Take us there.” Glancing at Grayson, I swallow thickly. His eyes never left me. Though I could sense he wanted to ask me something more, something that would likely bring up the past, Grayson remains quiet for the next few minutes. Luckily the restaurant isn’t far.

“Wait up.” Grayson runs out, circling the car before opening the door, offering his hand.

Reluctant, I look up only to meet his gaze. He’s uneasy, just as I am. So, I place my hand in his and let him help me out.

Sitting, ordering, it all happened so quickly, clouded with awkward silence neither of us could break. But he does. After all, he was always the outgoing one, speaking his mind with no restrain.

“Why didn’t you come back?” The uncertainty in his voice grips me as does my guilt, my heart sinking. “I always thought you’d come back after you finished college and I…I really thought you’d come back to me.”

Rubbing my forehead, I break eye contact. He’s pulling on my heartstrings, each of them breaking as he insists on answers I can’t be sure of.

“I can’t go home. I can’t be there. I don’t feel sane in New Jersey. It’s too much.” I sigh, hating the tears rimming my eyes. “I always thought you’d come after me”, I chuckle with a slight shake of my head. “Every day, for years, I expected you to show up on my doorstep and tell me you never meant to let me go.”

“I’m here now.” Reaching out, Grayson places his hand upon mine and I tense up. I don’t know why.

“But you’ll be gone by tomorrow. You said you’d never leave New Jersey. You said that and I hoped you’d change your mind, but you didn’t.” Cocking my head to the right, I glance at his quivering bottom lip. “Did you?”

“No.” Grayson draws a deep breath before leaning back, taking his hand with him. “I didn’t. I didn’t even know you’d want me to after that night.”

“I can’t breathe here! Everywhere I look, I see them! How can you not understand that?!” My voice is raw from all the shouting, the argument seemingly never-ending.

“Why can’t you stay for me? Am I not important enough? You know my family is here! My twin, my mother and father! My whole damn family, it’s not my fault”, I interject, stopping his thought.

“That I don’t have a family anymore? Is that it? You’re really going that route?” I croak, shaking my head. Running my hands through my hair, I turn away from him.

“You know that’s now what I meant.” Grayson sighs loudly, annoyed. “You’re making me out to be a monster because you need a reason to leave and not look back, but I’m not going to make it easy on you. I won’t.” He steps closer, his presence undeniable. “I will not be a punching bag for you. I love you. I want to marry you some day. I want to have kids with you. But I don’t want to leave my life here. I don’t want to follow you across the country just for you to look at me the way you just did.” Exhaling, his hand rests on my shoulder and I step away, needing my space.

“I’m not pushing you away.” I turn back, wrapping my arms around me. I feel cold, not on the outside but the inside of my body. I’m freezing and I’m burning, just the air here is toxic and I can’t live here. I can’t spend my whole life constantly being reminded of the worst thing that ever happened to me. If I stay, I’ll be trapped in misery.

“It sure as hell feels like it.” Grayson spat and I understand. I understand he doesn’t know how to handle this, because we never had to deal with this before. It’s new and strange and scary and it changed me in ways we can’t still fully smooth over.

“I’m not pushing you away, I’m holding on for dear life!” I choke up, shaking my head as I struggle to inhale. The pressure in my chest is crushing my heart and lungs and I can’t breathe, I can’t think. It’s too much. “I’m asking you to come with me. I’m begging you to, but you won’t.” Wiping my tears I step away from him once again as I notice him reach for me. “You’re giving up on us. You. Not me.”

I walked away that night, left New Jersey the next day as planned.

“Of course I wanted you.” A small smile appears on my lips as I notice his eyes are swimming in unshed tears as well. “I’ve always wanted you.” I add, letting out a heavy sigh. “But I couldn’t stay there. It would have killed me.”

“I could have helped you. I could have been there for you.” Grayson insists, his tone sharp and yet it’s laced with regret.

Does he wish he went with me?

“No one could have helped me back then. The only cure was to leave and I did it to protect my sanity.”

“I could have tried.” Slamming his fist on the table, Grayson stood abruptly, walking toward the exit.

Putting a hundred on the table, I rush after him, my purse in hand. “Wait!” I shout after him, catching him on the street as he tried to hail a cab. “Grayson.” I breathe out, taking his hand in mine.

“Go back to your perfect life, Y/N.” He remarks, hurt written in every line of his tearstained face. He’s crying. Is that why he left?

“It’s not perfect,” I croak. “Not nearly as perfect as it could have been.”  

Cupping my left cheek, Grayson’s thumb runs from the corner of my lips to my cheek and back, drawing a gentle smile on my behalf. Leaning down, his forehead rests upon mine, his nose brushing against the tip of mine. His warm breath is tickling my skin, my lips parting and eyes closing in anticipation of his.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He whispers and I open my eyes. His brown hues are closed, his lips are quivering. Tears are still running down his cheeks.

Letting go of his hand, I cup his face too, breathing heavily. “So kiss me.”

He licks his lips, hesitantly brushing my cold ones. We have feelings that are not visible, we do things to prevent ourselves from being miserable. Being honest is all we have left. Our need to have a taste of the comfort the other one offers is undeniable.

Grayson is the first to end the wait. He kissed me and the world fell away. It’s slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rests below my ear, his thumb caressing my left cheek as our breaths mingle. Running my fingers down his back, I pull him closer until there is no space left between us and I could feel the beating of his heart against my chest.

It’s perfect. It’s mind-blowing and sensual, forming worlds where we weren’t torn apart six years ago, where we could have made it. There’s no tears in those worlds, no aching desire and longing for one last look.

I never want it to end. But it does. It has to. Everything ends eventually. For us, the end began with a phone ringing.

“Fuck.” He grunts under his breath, looking at me with newfound uncertainty as he picks up his phone, taking a few steps away for privacy.

Wordless, I stand to the side, breathless even now. All I thought I lost before is right before me and it feels like a dream. I’ve been in pieces and with a single kiss, Grayson made me feel whole.

“I, uh, I’m so sorry.” Grayson mumbles, typing something on his phone. “I really have to go. It was really great seeing you again.” He manages a smile as he hails a cab, successfully so.

“Oh.” It’s all I can say, feeling dejected by the sudden change in atmosphere. A part of me expected for him to come home with me, for us to take tomorrow off and stay in bed, talking and making love. I wanted more time. Is it wrong I hoped we’d get back together too?

“I’ll tell Ethan you said hi.” He adds before pecking my cheek. In a moment, he was gone once more.

I couldn’t sleep that night. The moments we spent together kept replaying in my head over and over again and I tried to figure out where I went wrong. Did I do something to make him leave?

Dragging myself out of bed, I arrive at work looking like a hot mess.

“You look like a hot mess.” Lily reminds me and I groan, ignoring her as I enter my office.

“Oh, good morning.” Troy’s chipper tone makes me flinch and I stop, wide-eyed as I realize he’s standing in my office, a cup of coffee in hand and a dazzling smile to go with it.

“I didn’t realize we have a meeting.” I admit, looking around to make sure I didn’t walk into someone else’s office.

“We don’t, but I like to be proactive. I’ve made the initial sketches and left them on your desk.” With a smile as bright as the sun, he passes by me only to stop right next to me. “You look beautiful.”

Glancing his way, all I catch is his back as he leaves me alone in the room. Just me, the coffee he bought me, a stack of papers and…a bouquet?

Wild flowers bring some color to my rather old-fashioned office, breathing some life into the room. I smile, stepping closer only to find a single rose in the center of the bouquet as well as a note. It’s typed, not handwritten and there’s no signature.

“Lily?” I call out for her while opening the note with a hint of a smile adorning my lips.

She appreciated the beauty of a rose, the symbolism. But she never liked roses. No. Her love was always reserved for lilacs, violets and other wild flowers that painted the very essence of her soul.

“Yes?” Lily enters and I turn to her with a wide smile.

“Who sent this?” Was it Grayson? Did he want to tell me something? The words are so beautiful, and just right. I’ve never liked to receive roses, but wild flowers made my heart go crazy. Who else could know this but him?

“I don’t know. I didn’t see them delivered.” Lily frowns, stepping closer. “Must have been delivered when I was in the bathroom or something.” She shrugs, still a little troubled.

“Oh.” I furrow my eyebrows, biting my lower lip.

“Why, what does the note say?” Lily narrows her eyes as I smile. “What’s that smile for?”

“Lily, book me a ticked.” I decide right then and there. My what if’s will no longer dictate my future. Whether these came from Grayson or not, I have to see him again. “I’m going home.”

*           ***               *              ***               *

A/N - If you’ve made it this far, let me know if you like it and want more. It’s an old draft I polished a little which is why it’s written in the reader’s POV, something I haven’t done in quite some time.

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan fanfiction #dolan twins

[my-oh-my]

silver bullets and red roses: chapter one

hi! this is my first post, i started writing this series literally months ago and i forgot about it. i read it over again and got the cringe sweats but i edited it so its not overly horrific. dunkirk! harry was my late sexual awakening. so be kind!

Alex! Harry x Female OC

Warnings: PTSD (in a sense), war scenes - please, please, please don't read if anything makes you uncomfortable! its not worth it!

Summary: Rose Harrington joins her father in an attempt to save the men trapped at Dunkirk

Word Count: 1.73k

next chapter

masterlist

It was not difficult to spot Rose Harrington in a crowd of people. Her luminous smile was easy to find in room of others, her smile lit up the entire room – it was near impossible for her expression of happiness to catch onto your own. Though it seemed more challenging to find her than it originally seemed in the eyes of the Nazis situated in Dunkirk.

Rose Harrington was an exceptional young lady. Fluent in four different languages; Italian, French, German and English, the top of her school in academics, nurse and a British spy under the orders of the S.O.E to pose as a German Nazi nurse on the wretched battlefield in Dunkirk.

Though here she sat, on a dreary June day, listening cautiously to the radio cracking out words to keep the Nation up to date on the war situation. She watched as they steady rain tapped against the windowpane, the droplets racing each other to the bottom of the window. It had been a month since she returned from her deathly mission in Dunkirk, scenes which she had seen, endured, flashing through her mind every now and again causing her to inhale sharply or pinch her arm. She had seen death beyond belief, she had escaped death too many times to count on her polished fingers, but she would do it all again to know that she had helped a multitude of people by her actions.

A sudden noise awoke her from her unconscious daydreaming, the entrance door opening, causing her to jolt in her spot on the armchair. Rose gently rose to her feet, chasing the sound of the door and rattling. Her father’s figure came into view, making Rose ease her mind. She furrowed her brows as she noticed him search through doors of the cabinet, throwing keys onto the dark wooden surface on top.

“What’s happening?” Rose questioned, walking closer towards her father, who looked up at her in light shock, “They’ve called for little boats to rescue the men at Dunkirk, I’m going” He muttered, inspecting a key before placing it in his pocket and turning around in a hurry to the cupboard on the other side of the entrance. Rose studied him, determination beginning to course through her veins, “Ok, I am coming too” she pronounced softly, slipping on her black oxfords, “No. No you are not. You have done more than enough with this war. Plenty” He ordered, pointing his finger towards Rose sternly to which she returned with a shake of her head, “No. I want to do more. I can do more. It is for my country. You need help anyhow.” She insisted, clearly not straying from her decision by shrugging on her coat.

Joseph Harrington was a Captain in World War I. He suffered, he had to make several hard decisions which would haunt him in his later years. He loved his family dearly, but the weight of war on his shoulders sometimes became too heavy for him. On some occasions, when fireworks would boom through the neighbourhood on New Year’s Eve or he would read a newspaper recalling the events in the war, he would burst into fits of rage. Chairs, glassware and the delicate skin of the ones he loved would break when he came into these fits, leaving tears stained on everyone’s cheeks as they began to clean the mess made, Joseph sitting in his arm chair; a glass of bourbon resting in his trembling hands. The Harringtons knew that it was just shell shock, that he did not mean to do such things and they still loved him, but that did not stop them from pits of fear overwhelming their stomachs. Joseph was positive that letting Rose come with him was one of those decisions which would leave him overcome with distraught in the future, but he also knew his daughter. She was determined, she never gave up.

“You’re just like your Mother” he sighed, grabbing a bundle of ropes out of the cupboard and opening the front door, Rose smiled graciously before walking swiftly out the door.

“Diese britischen Bastarde werden keine Woche länger durchhalten (These British bastards won’t last a week)” a man spat, blood pouring out of his arm, a sizable gun shot wound evident in his bicep, “Wir töten sie wie nichts (We’re killing them like its nothing)” he continued. Rose sat him down on a stretcher, tying a bandage around the wound tightly whilst trying to not listen to the Nazi’s gross bragging. “Was passiert da draußen? (What’s happening out there?)” Rose asked innocently, looking up at the man’s wicked blue eyes curiously.

“Sie schicken sie nur unvorbereitet ab (They’re just sending them off unprepared)” he replied glancing at the other men in the open area, “Wir greifen sie heute Abend an, ein offenes Gebiet entlang der Küste des Strandes, wo sie sitzen (We're attacking them tonight, an open area along the coast of the beach where they're sitting)” he smirked proudly as Rose returned it with one of her own (of course it was fake, unbeknownst to him). “Ich weiß, dass du einen guten Job machst, das machst du immer, was mir den Job als Krankenschwester erleichtert (I know that you do a good job, you always do that, which makes my job as a nurse easier)” She smiled, beginning to clear the blood made by the man, who chuckled lightly at her joke.

“Heil Hitler (Hail Hitler)” he proclaimed, to which Rose strained a smile of pride. The man rushed away, laughing along with a bunch of men in their Nazi uniforms a few metres away from her. She made a mental note to ensure she did not leave any details out in her telegraph back home, these details meaning life or death for many men.

Rose could not see home. Nor could she see the blood-stained beaches of Dunkirk. She could only see the unforgiving deep blue waters of the ocean which stretched for kilometres, and boats. There were boats of all different sizes and colours littered along the water, all come together to save their men. She inhaled deeply, smelling the saltiness on the sea breeze and the petrol fumes expelling from her boat’s engine.

“It’s quite amazing, isn’t it?” Rose spoke out against the apprehensive silence which clouded the boat, “What is” her father muttered, eyes on the water in front of him as he steered the boat, “The number of people, number of boats” she replied looking around them at them all, a sense of patriotism filling her insides. The flag of the union jack whipped around behind them, cracking with the pride of the British.

The boat was a moderate size, with a timber finish and a deck below. It had become slightly rusty from the lack of use, blue paint beginning to crack and chip off on the sides. Nevertheless, she was still the Harrington’s beauty, Pegasus was her name. Before the war, before Rose had grown up, it was a family boat. On warm summer Saturdays, the Harringtons would take Pegasus for a dip into the Iris Canal, with packed ham sandwiches and a treat of a biscuit, courtesy of Doreen Harrington. Doreen and Joseph would sit back in the boat, Doreen perhaps reading a book whilst Joseph nostalgically smoked cigarettes. They seemed so calm in comparison to Charles and Rose, who were playfully splashing the cool water of the river at each other, laughter floating down the canal.

If you had met Charles and Rose, you would be surprised to hear that they were not Siamese twins separated. They were each other’s best friend, they never fought, they simply enjoyed one another’s company. Charles was a year older than his sister, a shy young man with outstanding engineering talents. As the war began to unfold, the unspeakable idea arose in the Harrington household brought up by Charles. “I must go, it would be cowardly if I didn’t” he spoke calmly to Rose who stared down into her lap, tears rolling unconsciously down her rosy cheeks. 

“Its not cowardly at all Charles. It is ok to not go, to say no to being killed.” She choked out, looking up at Charles who was standing in the doorway of her bedroom. “I’m not going to be killed, Rose. I will survive.” He breathed, walking towards Rose and kneeling in front of where she sat on her bed. Rose looked back down into her lap, fiddling with her perfectly polished hands. “Rose” he whispered, wrapping his hands around Rose’s little ones to stop her anxious fiddling. Rose stared deeply into her brother’s, the calming blue matching her own. “I promise, I will survive” he continued, a small sympathetic smile growing on his face. Rose breathed deeply, the thought of losing her brother becoming a little less overwhelming at his promise. “Even if you do survive, you’ll turn out like Dad” she muttered, a single tear falling. Charles sighed shakily, wiping the tear away with the back of his hand. “Not if I can help it” he smiled sympathetically, “I don’t think I’ll ever be as bald as him” he joked, grinning largely. Rose chuckled, sniffling up her last bits of sadness and pulling her broken parts back together.

The faint outline of the grey shores of Dunkirk beach began to appear as Rose and her father drew closer to the men. Rose inhaled, looking out towards the shore. She began to feel a slight pull at her stomach, and she hated herself for it. These men had been sitting ducks for months, a multitude dying in the meantime, she had merely spent a month in Dunkirk. Now was not the time to be fussed about her own apprehension, but rather saving heartbreak from families.

The dreadful smell of smoke and burning oil filled her nostrils, making her become suddenly alert. She studied along the surface of water, noticing a large ship beginning to capsize – smoke puffing from the wreck. “Dad” she walked over to the port side of Pegasus, trying to catch a closer glance. Joseph looked over to his daughter, staring past her shoulder at the mess of ships and smoke on the water. He remained focused on the sight, turning the boat around and accelerating her to the fastest she could go with a great roar from the engine.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #dunkirk alex #alex! harry #harry styles imagines #please give feedback! #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff

[probably-eating-poptarts]

New  Blood | Chapter 2

Tensions rise and plans are made

Universe: Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt x OC

Word count: 1,980

| Chapter 1 |

A/N: This chapter was honestly so hard to write considering the fact that, like… nothing interesting happens 😂 But I felt it ended where it needed to end, and I have ideas already set for where I want this story to go, so stay tuned! (@tentacles-and-coffee, would you like sum tag? 👀)

Chapter song: Bad Moon Rising - Creedence Clearwater Revival

✧༝┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉༝✧

That night was chaos at the Hewitt house.

“What the hell were you thinkin’, Ma? That bitch should be on Tommy’s choppin’ block, not off runnin’ your damn errands!”

“Now Charlie, you oughta know by now we can’t just kill off every single person that comes through; someone’s gonna catch on eventually–”

“It’s Hoyt, goddammit! Hoyt!”

A bony, long-fingered fist slammed into the worn butcher block table with enough force to topple one of the cloudy old mason jars spaced around at each place setting, and spittle flew from pooched, cracked lips. Luda Mae threw her hands up in exasperation before stomping into the kitchen, fed up with her son’s tantrums.

She returned a moment later, setting down a casserole dish fresh out of the stove. “That was a good girl, I just know it. She was just passin’ through and there wasn’t no reason at all to do away with her! Besides, her granddaddy is old John Elwood and you know he and his kin would come snoopin’ around if she up and disappeared!”

Hoyt spat carelessly onto the scuffed hardwood and curled his lip in a mockery of a smile. “You just jealous, Mama?” he wheedled. “Sad that you ain’t had no little bitch to gussy up, huh? Is that it?”

“That’s enough, now!” She snapped, her tone booking no room for further argument. “You won’t lay a single finger on that girl if I have anything to say about it, so just hush up and eat your supper.”

The old woman sat herself in her chair with a sense of finality, staring down her eldest child as if daring him to open his mouth again. Luda Mae had given her boy a lot of slack after his return from the war, and she loved him dearly despite the attitude he liked to give her these days, but at some point a mother just has to put her foot down.

The two locked eyes for several tense moments before Hoyt sucked sourly at his teeth and called over his shoulder, “C’mon in here, Tommy, and let’s eat.”

From the shadows of the hallway a looming shape moved; dim light from the dining room spilling over the burly, hulking form of the youngest Hewitt as he ducked under the doorway to enter the room. He had been patiently awaiting his adopted brother’s permission to join the rest of the family as always, but he found his thoughts distracted from his meal tonight with the topic of their discussion. Who was this girl, and why was Mama so taken up with her? Would she just end up like everyone else who found themselves on the receiving end of the infamous Hewitt hospitality?

He could tell that Mama was none at all happy with that prospect, and he found himself struggling with the uncomfortable possibility of having to choose between the wishes of his mother and the demands of his sibling. Cross as he could be sometimes, Charlie (Hoyt, Tommy reminded himself) had always been the one to give Thomas direction in his days following the collapse of the slaughterhouse; who to kill, who to detain, who to hobble for his… ‘personal enjoyment’.

But if his brother commanded him to kill this stranger, and then Mama told him not to… What would he do?

Shaking off the unanswerable conundrum for now, Thomas tucked into his meal with his usual gusto and decided he would just cross that bridge if or when he ever came to it. For now, supper was hot and the evening was still young yet…

*

“Thanks again, Bobby. I’ll tell Opa you said hello!”

Addie waved farewell to the bearded man and folded the small stack of paperwork he’d just finished filling out neatly as she made her way back towards her truck and now-empty trailer, hauling herself into the driver’s seat before cranking the engine and pulling out of the livestock pavilion.

Just a ways down the road - right where Luda Mae said it would be - a tiny little tea shop sat tucked away on the downtown strip between a record store and a newly refurbished post office. Addie had to drive almost half a mile more to find parking that accommodated the size of her rig, but she enjoyed the walk nonetheless as she made her way back past quaint storefronts and other folks out for a morning stroll.

The shop itself was cozy, if not slightly disorganized on the inside, but the rather eccentric older woman behind the desk knew exactly where everything was when Addie explained what she was after. When she finally left the store nearly a half hour later - the small silver bells above the door tinkling a merry goodbye over her head - she had two boxes of green tea and a little novelty tea strainer she’d been… somewhat coerced into buying all tucked away in a little paper bag under her arm.

From there it was just one quick stop by Luda Mae’s place, and then she’d be on her way home. The trek out always took much longer since she made extra stops at other farms to pick up livestock, but if she played her cards right, she’d probably make it back to Elwood Dairy by suppertime.

Someone at the pavilion had even managed to fix her radio, so with the windows cranked down and CCR blasting over the speakers, it was only just before noon when she found the little turnoff and rolled into the diner’s parking lot.

Roiling thunderclouds were gathering as Addie made her way across the asphalt towards the rickety front steps, and she paused for just a moment to study the looming darkness reaching out across the restless treetops in the distance.

“Looks like we’ll be in for a pretty nasty summer storm,” came Luda Mae’s voice from just behind the porch door. She pushed the screen open with her elbow and waved Addie inside, ushering her towards one of the antique tables where a porcelain teapot and mismatched teacups sat waiting.

The two women chatted amicably for a while as the tea Addie had acquired steeped; watching the broiling noon sun slowly and mercifully fade away beneath the creeping shadows of the oncoming storm cell.

“So do you stay with Old John up there at the dairy?” Luda inquired.

“Yes ma’am,” Addie replied, “Ever since I was a kid.”

“What about your folks? Do y’all all live on the property together?”

The younger girl pursed her lips and looked down into her cup, swirling the dark contents within.

“M’not really sure where my biological father is,” she finally confessed. “And my mom signed over custody to my grandparents when I was about six, so I’ve been with them almost my whole life. She comes around now and again, but we don’t really see her all that often.”

Her shoulders lifted and fell in a quick, nonchalant shrug. “Besides, growing up on the farm was really nice; and with Oma being sick lately, I came back from college to help out more.”

Luda Mae perked up. Sweet, well-spoken, and educated? “What were you schoolin’ for, then?”

“Well I finished my degree a couple years ago, actually.” The hint of pride in her tone was hard to hide. “I was really just taking extra courses during the fall before I left campus.”

Before she could elaborate the screen flew open with a sharp thwack, accompanied by a growling roll of thunder. Well-worn snakeskin boots thumped heavily against the dusty hardwood floor, announcing the arrival of the scowling sheriff Addie had seen briefly during her previous visit.

“Mama,” he nodded in greeting to the older woman, his sharp, beady gaze boring into Addie so coarsely that an instinctive shiver of apprehension tumbled down her spine.

“Hoyt! Come on in, honey; let me get you something to drink and introduce you to Miss Adeline Elwood, old John’s grandbaby.” As she spoke, Luda Mae tottered up from the table and pulled out a glass coke bottle from the old cooler by the register, popping the cap off on the attached bottle jack before passing it to her son.

The seemingly permanent frown he sported turned a fraction more sour, just for a moment, before breaking into a fractured grin - as if he had forgotten the art of smiling properly. “Pleasure’s all mine, ma’am.”

Both Hewitts joined Addie at the table, chair legs scraping as bodies settled into comfortable positions.

“So you mean to tell me ain’t nobody out here drivin’ that rig of yours?” Hoyt asked her with an air of haughty surprise. “We ain’t used to seein’ decent womenfolk around these parts all by themselves, y’know.”

Addie hid her clenched teeth behind a sociable smile. “Yep, it’s just me. Been hauling cattle by myself for a few years now since my Opa is staying home more often.”

The sheriff whistled low and reclined comfortably against the back of his chair. “Yeah, word spread fast when miz Rosie got sick. How’s she been holding up these days, hm?”

“About as well as can be expected,” Addie replied with a cock of her left shoulder. “We’re all just taking things one day at a time.”

He nodded sagely and took a swig of his drink, still watching her every move like a hawk zeroing in on an unsuspecting mouse.

“Now, you never got around to tellin’ me what you were upstate studying,” Luda Mae interjected with a gentle pat on the younger woman’s arm. “Such a bright young thing, aren’t ya dear?”

Clearing her throat, Addie fiddled with the excess of her ponytail before taking a brief sip of tea long since gone tepid. The wiry old coot was starting to make her rather tense. “I got my degree in animal science over at TAMU two years ago, and I’d been taking some agricultural classes right before I came back home to help around the farm.”

“Sciences, huh?” Hoyt sucked on the dip between his teeth. “Awful high aspirations for such, ah… lovely young lady such as yerself, dontcha think?”

Addie leveled him with a rather icy stare.

“Well that may be so, but since veterinary options tend to be rather limited around these parts, I figured I may as well learn how to do it myself.” She hit him then with her coyest, most femininely charming smile. “Sometimes a lady’s gotta help herself if there’s no man around to do it for her.”

With a sly wink to seal the deal, she pushed off from the table and tipped her head to both Hewitts in turn. “The tea was lovely Miss Mae, but I really ought to be headed on home, now.”

“Oh please, sweetheart, don’t go botherin’ with all that ‘Miss’ stuff.” The older woman began to gather their empty china. “Luda Mae will do just fine now.”

Nodding her understanding, Addie swapped final goodbyes and stepped back into the oppressive Texas heat, barely deterred by the flagging breeze pulling the surging storm cell ever closer.

“You drive careful now, y’hear?” Luda Mae called from beyond the screen. Hoyt stood at her shoulder - an ominous figure looming within his mother’s shadow - and he crooked his fingers at her in a little wave as he smiled that rusted out grin around the wad of tobacco always present within the rotting crease of his lips.

Ingrained southern manners had the young woman returning that broken-doll gesture with the barest tilt of her head in acknowledgment, and she clambered quickly into the confines of her truck cab where she felt a modicum of safety behind thick glass and sturdy American steel. She wasn’t going to outrun this beast of a downpour, but she was ready to get as much of a headstart as she could.

Things were looking to get nasty very quickly.

#the texas chainsaw massacre #TCM #Tommy Hewitt x OC #uh ohhh #that's what we call FORESHADOWING ppl #dun dun duuuuun #also i'm BACK #bay-BEE #Thomas Hewitt #New Blood #NB TCM

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 3

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo begins preparing for university, and has an unexpected run-in with another magic user.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

“See, there, now you look like a respectable young man, and not a hoodlum,” Even said. They’d gone clothes shopping, mostly because nearly all of Ienzo’s things were worn, and he needed clothes for school.

School. He looked at himself in the mirror, the gray sweater vest, dark slacks. This was all so surreal. He felt, again, guilty about the money that was being spent, though Even always assured him they were “provided for” and did not need to worry. “It is nice, to pick what I want to wear, rather than costumes or castaways.” Or illusions.

“I agree wholeheartedly--I never want to wear denim again if I can avoid it.” The way he snarled out the word made Ienzo smile. “Come now. Buck up. Lots to do still, and we don’t want to be late, do we?”

His heart skipped a little. “...I suppose not.”

It was odd to move in daylight, uncomfortable. Ienzo had to consciously remind himself not to cast an illusion, to get used to the world seeing his face. To save his energy. Pedestrians’ eyes slid off of him like he was nothing remarkable, and he hoped dearly he wasn’t. After all, if anyone was looking, likely they’d be looking for a princess . He couldn’t even be sure Saϊx had gotten a good enough look at him in his baggy clothes and hat to really discern the… changes. Even seemed to sense his anxiety and patted him on the small of his back.

They took a streetcar across town to the university. The smell of salt and the sea was stronger here, and when they got off at the station, Ienzo could see it, the thin blue band in the distance. The sight of it evoked memories ( playing with Braig in the waves as Father watched nearby, as Even fretted for his safety ) that Ienzo had to swallow down. “They can truly get wards all the way down to the sea?” he asked instead.

Even adjusted his glasses. “Just to fifty kilometers outside the water--then it becomes a legal issue.” He rolled his eyes.

“I should like to meet that magician.”

“More like a team, I assume, but quite. It’s nothing to be underestimated. You know.” Lowering his voice. “You’re capable of such things on your own.”

“...I’m painfully aware.” He exhaled. “It’s a shame I cannot make myself useful without starting international conflict.”

It was meant to be a joke, but Even’s smile seemed fake.

The university was old, one of the oldest in their country, the rolling lawns well-manicured. Ivy climbed up the stern brick buildings, curling in the dully-colored shingles. There was a fountain in the main courtyard, and pre-season students gathered here, drinking coffee, playing frisbee, flirting. Ienzo felt as though he were observing wild animals in their natural habitat; Even granted him a moment. Finally, he turned away.

Some of the buildings were modern, architecturally impractical with their metal and glass. “Is this giving you nostalgia for your own time at university?” Ienzo asked drolly.

Even wrinkled his nose. “Ah--not quite. Moreso… reminding me of that time.”

Ienzo knew Even had met his father at university--the man hadn’t even known Ansem (then only a noble, not a king) was royal. Apparently he was the only one willing to challenge Ansem’s ideas--hence, the pull between the two. “I’m sorry.”

Even smiled tiredly. “No matter.”

In the cramped registrar, Ienzo used his forged papers to enroll, took a rather unflattering photo for his student ID. Signed up for some classes--slim pickings at this point, he ended up with a rather more eclectic schedule than he would have wished--and this settled, they went to buy books, passing a building labeled as the library on the way. Ienzo had not been to a proper library since-- It almost felt as though his heart were crying out.

Even must have noticed this desire. “I suppose we could take a few moments,” he said instead. “I should like to see the resources here for myself. Text me when you’re ready to move on.”

He was being set free. Unreal. Then again, it wasn’t exactly realistic for Even and Aeleus to hover over everything he did. In an emergency… Ienzo was more than capable of defending himself. So Ienzo wandered.

The library was four floors built into a hill, the first of which had a cafe in the lobby, and a checkout and research desk. Pleather armchairs and small tables were scattered across the space, along with banks of computers. Large, long windows let in a lot of the rosy daylight, with chandeliers compensating the difference. He thought he felt the hairs on his arms rise with a sort of pleasure.

Ienzo took one of the staircases down to the second floor, which comprised of nonfiction. He ran his fingers along the spines absently, just to feel them. Aisles and aisles and aisles of books, which for the majority of his childhood had been his only companions. The thrill of being able to read voraciously again had him near tears.

The next floor had more study space, along with study pods and conference rooms for student gatherings, and a small display for so-called “Zines.” Ienzo was less interested in these at the moment. He went down to the last floor, the only one partially belowground, and there it was.

Fiction.

How else had he gotten through what he did without some kind of escape? Without someone else’s story to comfort him? Even before all this desolation, he’d loved stories.

Then the memories, without  warning-- let her enjoy her book, Even. Fiction instills a sense of empathy.

But she’ll fall behind--

Did you spend your childhood days hovering over calculations?

I… suppose not.

Really, Even, sometimes I think you should invest yourself more in stories.

Ienzo was startled from this reverie by a loud bang , which immediately sent a fizz of adrenaline through him, his magic waking up and prickling under his skin.

Another bang, then a growl, and a man’s voice-- “fucking shit. ”

A growl?

Ienzo moved cautiously towards the noise, gripping the small knife in his pocket. He poked his head around one of the shelving units.

A student had been backed into a corner and was flailing wildly with their bag, attempting to drive away the creature aiming for their chest. A creature black as ink, darkness boiling off of it--

A Heartless? But wasn’t this place supposed to be warded against--

“Help me! Oh god--”

Ienzo couldn’t be sure if the student had seen him or was just crying out. Even would tell him to leave well enough alone. But Ienzo could not in good conscience do that--besides, there was nobody else down in this forgotten corner of the library. He pulled at his magic, letting it warm his skin, and then launched a volley of hard light blades through the Heartless’s back. It was a weak one; it vanished instantly.

The student was still crouched against the wall, breathing heavily. Ienzo could see him more clearly now; his blonde hair must’ve been eclectically styled before all this, but in the ensuing scuffle had gotten mussed. The knee of his jeans was torn, and bloody, and he moved his left arm flinchingly, like it hurt. The terror in his sea-green eyes hadn’t faded, however. “Your hair,” he said breathlessly. “It--it’s glowing.”

Ienzo touched it. Stupid. Now he was going to have to wipe this poor man’s memories. “Are you alright?” he asked instead. “Your knee…”

He looked at it, as though startled to discover the blood. “I’m more worried about my hand. I caught myself with it when that thing threw me.”

He’d already come this far. “Let me take a look at it.”

The boy winced when he took a step forward. “You’re a… magician,” he said.

“Obviously.” He had to fight to stop scowling, reminding himself the man was likely in some kind of shock. He took another few steps forward and offered his hand.

Shakily, he placed his injured one in Ienzo’s. Even without a spell Ienzo could tell it was broken, the blood vessels broken and starting to swell.

“Of course it was my fucking left hand,” the man said, and his voice broke a little. “It’ll probably never be the same--oh mother fucker !” His voice hitched in pain as Ienzo set the bone and healed it with another spell.

“I should’ve warned you that it hurts. Sorry.”

The boy flexed his hand. “Huh.”

“A simple “thank you” would suffice.” Ienzo moved to fix his knee while he was at it.

He blinked, smoothing the hair out of his eyes. “No, I… yeah, totally, thanks, I’m just--” He took a quick breath. “You saved my bacon, man. I’d have been…”

“One with the darkness,” Ienzo said dryly.

He furrowed his brows. “Is that what that thing was? A Heartless?”

“Quite.”

“I thought they were… old wives’ tales.”

“I’m confused too.” He began picking up the boy’s papers, which were spread everywhere, to delay the inevitable. He hated doing this; it always made him feel dirty. The papers weren’t essays, but rather compositions. Music. He stared at it, dazed.

“Oh… I’m a musician,” the boy offered shyly. “I’m a Music Ed major. Which is why I was so freaked out when that thing broke my left hand.”

“A stringed instrument, then?”

He nodded. “Not sure if you’ve ever heard of it--sitar. One way to stand out, I guess.”

Ienzo handed over the papers. “I wasn’t sure how to order them.”

A laugh. “I’m sure I can figure it out.” He offered his now-unbroken hand. “Demyx.”

“What’s that?”

“My name?”

Ienzo blinked. He really should wipe the last fifteen minutes from this man’s memory right now. He seemed the chatty type, which was so not good for this situation. “I’m… Ienzo.” Demyx’s hand was warm, the fingertips rough and callused. “I should… get going. I still have to go buy books and whatnot, and I’m sure you’re busy.” He could still do the spell once he’d turned his back. Simple.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hey.” He frowned. “You just saved my life, dude. At least let me buy you a coffee, or something. Or show you around. You’re new here, right?”

“Well--”

“Please? I’ll feel guilty otherwise.”

He wavered. He’d let go of Demyx’s hand, but he could still feel it in his, the magic under his skin prickling in a way he did not know how to read. Accepting this offer would just make him feel worse about the inevitable oblivion, and would be all the more jarring for this man. “I’m not--”

Demyx sighed. “It’s because of the magic, isn’t it?” he asked. “You’re scared I’ll go blabbing all about your secret.”

Ienzo blinked.

He reached into the collar of his t-shirt and brought out a small pendant on a strip of black twine. It was the exact color of his eyes, the shape of a teardrop, curving slightly to the left, as though it had been a circle once, halved now. In this poor lighting, Ienzo could barely see a rune. He wasn’t sure what the character meant, but he didn’t need to know, exactly.

Demyx had magic blood too. “But if you have magic, why didn’t you--?”

His expression hardened a little, and he tucked the charm back under his shirt. “It’s a story for another day,” he said simply. “But I won’t tell anyone, Ienzo.”

“I suppose I should say--thank you.” He swallowed. He was feeling something, but he wasn’t sure what. He hadn’t thought he would ever run into another person like him, however faint and dilute Demyx’s bloodline was, for his hair to still be blonde. Most magicians were… if not in hiding, then snatched up by local governments for use, or… depending on where they were… worse.

He chuckled weakly. “So, coffee?”

“...Sure.” He and Demyx walked in silence back up to the cafe. Demyx got them both matcha lattes, and for a moment they just sat drinking. “...So,” Demyx began at last. “You’re a… freshman, or what?”

“Freshman, technically.” Ienzo wrinkled his nose.

“You don’t look like a naive eighteen-year-old.”

He smiled despite himself. “Not quite. Ah--some family trouble derailed my studies for a while.” “Trouble” was putting it lightly.

Demyx nodded. “Do you know what you want to major in?”

“...You think I would.” He shook his head. “My father wants me to go for the sciences. My heart has always been with literature, or library science, but… likely I’ll just eat my table of crow and go for international relations.” He sipped.

Demyx cocked his head. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why go for something you don’t care about?”

“It’s… not always that simple,” Ienzo said.

“Why not?”

He smothered a flicker of irritation and, he suspected, despair. “My family has… certain expectations of me.”

“So? It’s your life.”

He smiled a little. “It is, but…” He trailed off vaguely, hoping Demyx would draw his own conclusions.

“The pressure?” He nodded. “Yeah, I… know what you mean.” For a second, his expression became pinched, morose, before it resumed its previous cheer. “So what do you do for fun?”

Ienzo laughed despite himself. He’d never had much time for fun. “I suppose this sounds rather pathetic… but mostly I read .”

“What do you like to read?”

Ienzo looked into the mouth of his coffee cup. “Fantasy. Science fiction. Anything with good enough worldbuilding to… spirit me away. Though of course I do love the classics in their turn.”

“So you don’t exactly get out much.”

Ienzo felt vaguely naked. He realized this was one of the first times he was having a conversation with someone his age, and felt a blush heat his cheeks. Before he could brush it away with an illusion, Demyx added,

“Hey, no, I get it. Stuffy strict parents. Bet they’ve been keeping you on a short leash. You look so tense .”

He felt another small laugh leave him. ““Short leash” does not even begin to cover it.”

Demyx smiled. Ienzo felt that unnameable feeling again, prickling in his magic. He was fairly sure Demyx wasn’t spellcasting on him, to cause it. Perhaps he was simply reacting to the magic in the man’s blood? Or else… the way this warm light was hitting his green eyes. Perhaps--

“But you’re in college now,” Demyx asserted. “You get to cut loose, have some fun. Really find yourself, and all that crap, you know?” He leaned forward a little. “Listen, if you need some help, I’m happy to be of assistance.”

“What, you’re a party animal?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not really , but… well. I’ve got friends who’d be more than happy to show you how to have a good time.”

Friends. Plural. Ienzo again felt that flash of despair, but kept his face neutral. Would Even ever allow him to go to a party, a nightclub? Would it be too dangerous?

He was here to live a normal life.

Ienzo nodded once. “I’d be willing to give it a try.”

Demyx’s smile sent another current through him. “Awesome.”

---

After this Demyx insisted on showing Ienzo around campus. Ienzo could have easily gotten a campus map, but it was a somewhat useful experience. “Do not ever eat at the Caf if you can avoid it,” he whispered theatrically. “The only edible thing they’ve got there are the chicken fingers, and that’s ‘cause they come frozen in big bags. None of the people there can pass a ServSafe test. My friend Lea worked there for all of ten minutes. Disaster. ”

“Where should I eat, then?” Ienzo asked, amused.

“Most of the cafes have decent soup and sandwiches and shit. The only good place that has anything hot is the Mount.” He gestured vaguely towards some building in the distance. “Every other Thursday they have salmon. Though if you want it you have to be prepared to wait a while. It is to die for.”

“That, or you’re starved of a good meal,” Ienzo said.

“Same diff,” Demyx said, with a shrug. “Anyone who’s smart just buys groceries and cooks for themselves.”

“Sounds like you’ve been here a while.”

Again, that pang of pain on his face, quickly covered up. “This is my last year. After this… I mean, who fucking knows.”

“You said you’re Music Ed. Can’t you follow it up with a Master’s?”

A wry chuckle. “I’m not made of money. Gotta pay the first one off first, you know?”

“...Indeed,” Ienzo said, because he did not know how else to follow that up.

Demyx brought him back to the library. “Hey, give me your phone,” he said.

“What for?”

His expression became a little sly. “You know, Ienzo, when someone tries to give you their number, you’re supposed to just roll with it.”

His heart started a little, and thoughtlessly, he complied.

“...Sweet. Hey, text me any time, alright? I still kind of owe you one.” He winked.

“...Sure,” Ienzo said dazedly.

Before he could really comprehend this, though, he saw Even striding towards him, looking as though he had smelled something sour. “ There you are,” he said. “Why haven’t you answered my calls?” Then he saw Demyx, taking him in with something like disappointment.

“He offered to show me around campus, and I took the invitation,” Ienzo said. “Demyx, this is my father, Even.” It had once felt unnatural to refer to the man as such; in the beginning it had functioned as a cover story. Now, given that he’d raised Ienzo far longer than Ansem had, it was simply truth.

“Nice to meet you,” Demyx said, sticking out his hand.

“...Pleasure,” Even said coolly. “Well, Ienzo, it’s going to be dark soon. We should finish our affairs here and get going.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Demyx said. “Later.” He saluted once and ran off.

Even scoffed. “Well, I suppose it was nice of him to do that for you. Though that hair is… something.”

“You said yourself “college students do torrid things to their hair.””

“...I know.” He wrinkled his nose. Then, lowering his voice. “Just… be careful who you become friends with, yes?”

“...Quite.”

#heartlines #ienzo #demyx #zemyx #even (kingdom hearts) #au #modern fantasy au #soulmate au #ienzo is trans

[justauthoring]

only just a little // jon snow

request(s): Hello! Can you write a Jon Snow X Reader here she was tortured by Ramsey when he took winterfell and when Jon takes it back the reader has this really bad nightmares about Ramsey and Jon is there for her and just a lot of fluff

can u do one where the reader is in love with jon and he loves her and he saves her from someone bad (lol) and they confess that they love each other? thank you💗💗 

Hi hi omfg I love your writing and Jon Snow is awesome so here we go :))) For the Jon Snow x Reader requests, could you do one where the reader was Jon's best friend way beck when he lived in Winterfell but now she is being held captive by Ramsay Bolton (kinda like Sansa was) so Jon comes to rescue her but she's really badly injured and there's tonnes of angst but fluff at the end???? Again, love your writing, hope you are having a noice day :)

Can you do a Jon x Reader where you have been kind of a prisonner of Ramsay Bolton and you have a hard time trusting people after that, and Jon is the first to help you out

requested by: @mdgrdians

please don’t plagiarize my work!

word count: 2,181

“You’re really leaving?”

“Yes, I am.”

His words are spoken with a heavy exhale, displaying how torn Jon truly feels. In the dead of the night, the two of you seemingly the only ones still awake, Jon wonders if this is the right decision. If leaving you is the right decision.

Deep down, he knows it is. It’s the right decision for him, specifically, because he knows that he will never be accepted here in the way he wants. He may have a home, and those who love him, but he’ll never be consider a Stark by certain people, even though he so desperately wishes to be one.

Taking the black will give him purpose. Will give him something to fight for. And, it will give Jon the family, in some ways, that he needs. 

But it will mean leaving you.

You look so sad, stood there before him. Your eyes were watering, but you seemed to refuse to let them fall. Keeping a brave face, Jon assumed -- for his sake. You curled into yourself, pulling the furs wrapped around your shoulders tighter around yourself to hide your body from the sheer cold of the late nights in Winterfell. Yet, it did nothing to stop the winds from smacking you in the cheeks and turning them a rosy red though.

Jon, despite everything, had never thought you so beautiful as he did in that moment. 

“I leave in the morning.”

The words seemed to smack you the same way the wind did. Instead, in the heart. It felt like to opposing ends were taking your heart and playing tug-of-war with it, ripping it half without a care in the world.

Yet, you couldn’t argue. Couldn’t find, not even one, word to argue against Jon’s choice. Sure, you loved him. Sure, his father and his brother Robb, and his younger sister, Arya and his younger brother’s, Rickon and Bran, loved him. And maybe even a small part of Sansa loved her bastard brother as well. But they were not enough to keep him here, and you knew you weren’t either. Jon needed to do this for himself, and as much as it hurt you so, you would not stop from doing so.

You need to sacrifice your own love for him, so that he might find some peace.

“I will say farewells to you now then.”

The words puzzled Jon, and you were quick to elaborate, finally raised your bowed head to meet his eyes. “I will not watch you walk out those gates, Jon,” you explain, the words almost forced, as if they’d become choked up in your throat. “I cannot bare the sight of you walking away from me.”

Jon understood. And as much as it pained him, to say his goodbyes now, he would not argue. For his sake, like you were not arguing for his.

He took a small step forward, and that was all that you needed. In the next second, your arms were bounding around him fast and tightly, pulling him flush against yourself as you buried your head into the crook of his neck. Jon eased into the embrace almost instantly, loving the feeling of you so close and in his arms. He knew it was a feeling he would dearly miss.

Then, you leaned back, just slightly, pressing a kiss against his cheek. You moved your lips to his ears, touching them just slightly as you whispered; “I will miss you dearly.”

Jon’s grip on you tightened, even for just a moment, giving you the confirmation you needed that he, would indeed, miss you too. He’d never been great with words, and you seemed to understand him through his actions perfectly. It was one of the reasons why he loved you, even if he’d yet to admit it.

“I hope to see you again one day, Jon Snow.”

-

The bruises on your body ached to point you felt you could not move. The touch of him still lingered disgustingly across your skin, and no amount of baths could wash the feeling of him away.

You hated that he had this hold of you. That such a man like him could make you feel so powerless, so vulnerable with just a simple look. He controlled you in every aspect through fear, and commanded you in just the same way. You wanted to fight, but found you could not. Your chance at fighting for your dignity and happiness had long been lost, since the moment he first touched you.

Instead, you spent your days wasting away in your room until he visited you at night and defiled you all over again.

And now, with Sansa, his wife, and Theon, his toy, gone and having escaped, all his torment fell upon your shoulders. Relentlessly. You would’ve never wished this kind of torture upon anyone, especially Sansa who’d been like a younger sister to you, but now that it was only you, you’d rather be dead.

Even then, you didn’t have enough courage to kill yourself.

Ramsay was cruel. Beyond cruel. He was tormented, sick, and he seemed to take pleasure in the hell he created for others. When he raped you, he smiled in glee. When he beat you, he laughed in your face. And when he’d torment you mentally, use your own fears against you, he would do as if he truly did love you. It was one of the few times he was gentle, stroking your cheek as he used your own personal hell to his favour.

You had never met a men as sick as Ramsay Bolton.

Today was different though. Usually, when you were not sleeping, there was handmaidens at your side, keeping watch of you. If you left your room, Ramsay would place guards at your side. Today felt absent. Barren. No one was around, and Ramsay hadn’t spoke a word of warning towards you.

Your door was locked though, keeping you on the inside.

So you sat, by yourself, still and alone, on your bed, tracing the bruises that lined your skin and shivering in disgust when your mind poisoned the thought of your touch being his. Defiling you. Using you.

It was quiet. You were alone.

Until suddenly, you were not. In the span of only a second, footsteps ran rapid in what sounded like everywhere. You couldn’t pinpoint an exact position or direction, no matter how hard you tried, and even pressing your ear up against your door did nothing to help you understand what was happening beyond the wooden plank that blocked your view.

Then, a moment later, over all the other footsteps, you heard ones approaching your door. Quick, confident strides and it caused you to gasp out in fright, stumbling back, as far away from the door as possible. You knew who it was. No one else other than Ramsay himself visited you, and you feared what kind of torture he’d inflict upon you this time.

In nothing but a sheer nightdress, you had a inclination of what it would be.

The footsteps stopped, there was a click, signifying the door had been unlocked, and then you saw the doorknob turn. It wasn’t as if this was anything knew. By now, there was a countless amount of times you’ve been defiled and used. Yet, you still found yourself petrified every time it threatened to begin.

The door slid open, light bleeding into the darken room that caused you to remind blind for a few moments. You blink, holding up a hand in front of your eyes to shield yourself from the light, before a figure became clear in front of you. 

It wasn’t Ramsay.

It was a man you’d thought, long ago given up on, ever seeing again.

Curled into yourself, probably looking nothing but a shell of your old self in eyes, you stared up at Jon. A man you once knew well beyond belief, but now almost felt like a stranger and a relief.

You could hardly believe your eyes.

Jon took a step towards you, his name leaving your lips in a whisper, but you shuffled back, cowering. Your arms moved faster than your mind, and you fell back slightly, a gasp leaving your lips.

Jon’s hand came up, his palm towards you. “I won’t hurt you.”

His voice sounded the same, albeit deeper. When you took a good look at him, you realized that his face had toned, grown. He looked like his father the way his hair was tied back, and there was blood caked to his skin. It all clicked in that one moment. Why Winterfell had seemed to absent was because there had been a battle, one you hadn’t been informed of, and apparently, Jon had been Ramsay’s enemy.

And it seemed he’d won.

“You remember me, yes?”

How could you forget him?

“Jon,” his name left your lips in a rasped, broken voice. But it was his name all the same. “Jon Snow. I remember you.”

“Y/N,” Jon called, more confident know that he knew you knew who you were. “Ramsay is dead. He can’t hurt you anymore. I promise you.”

He can always hurt you, you thought. The man wouldn’t leave your mind.

Jon took another step forward, and his knees hit the edge of the bed. His hand was still held out before him, but he moved it slightly, letting his palm face upward, holding his hand out towards you for you to take.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

You didn’t cry. You wondered if you’d cried all the tears in your body all ready. 

But after only a moment of hesitance, you set your hand in Jon’s. The familiar touch was nice, refreshing and warm, opposed to the cold, lingering touched of Ramsay that never left you. 

You were in his arms in a second, his support helping you stay on your feet. 

Jon held you close as if he was afraid to let you go.

-

A scream pierced the silence of the dead of the night.

It startled Jon, his body snapping upright, alert with attention. His reflexes and past experiences told him that there was an attack Winterfell, that they were under siege. But after a moment, he realized the scream had come from beside him, piercing his ears as you twisted and turned, kicking your legs out wildly from beneath the sheets.

Once again, Jon snapped into attention, for a different reason all together.

With practiced routine, one of Jon’s hand fell on your shoulder, the other cupping your cheek. He spoke softly, but with purpose as he called for your name to bring you out of your tormented sleep. You fought relentlessly against his grip, your dream having you believe his touch to be of someone else’s.

“Y/N,” Jon called, “it’s Jon. You’re safe. You’re safe. I promise you that you are safe. No harm can come to you here.”

Eventually, your eyes begin to flicker, and your struggling seized. Your tense body eased in Jon’s grip, and your E/C eyes fluttered open to meet his.

Your chest rose and fell with exhaustion, your throat burning from the screams that had pierced through the silence only seconds ago. But when you met Jon’s eyes, and the eyes of Ramsay left your mind, you felt a sense of calm and warmth flood through your entire being as you lay limp in his grip, completely trusting.

Jon’s thumb softly stroked your clammy cheek, your forehead beading with sweat and causing your hair to stick to it.

“It’s okay,” Jon whispers, his voice barely audible.

“I’m sorry,” you pant, shaking your head. “He won’t leave my mind.”

“I know.”

“Every time I close my eyes, Jon, he... he’s there.”

Your voice breaks Jon’s heart.

Months later, after everything, and yet the pain inflicted upon you from that disgusting man would not leave you.

“Sometimes,” you continue, your voice shaky as you meet Jon’s gaze, finding solace within them. “I can still feel his touch. His hand... p-pushing me forwards...”

“Shh,” Jon soothes, brushing away the hair that sticks to your forehead. “He’s not here. He never will touch you again, Y/N. I promise you.”

You reach out for his hand, Jon quickly abiding as you grip onto it tightly.

“We don’t have to sleep,” Jon offers, hoping to calm. “We can just lay here. I can hold you until you feel safe again.”

You sigh, shaking your head; “I don’t want to keep you awake-”

“You’re not keeping me awake,” Jon cuts off gently. “I want to be here, with you, right now, with you in my arms.”

A moment of silence passes, and then, reluctantly, you nod, shifting slightly to fall into his embrace easier. True to his word, Jon just holds you. Neither of you speak, but he keeps you close, reassuring you that no longer can Ramsay touch or hurt or defile you in anyway.

It doesn’t erase the memory of him, but it does ease your racing heart. Even if only a little bit.

-

let me know what you thought? remember, reblogging always helps!

requests are open for jon snow and robb stark!

#game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #got #got imagine #jon #snow #jon snow #jon snow imagine #jon snow x reader #jon imagine #jon x reader #kit harington #kit harington imagine #kit harington x reader #imagine #imagines #drabble #drabbles #prompt #prompts #request #requested

[bangtantannie]

Breaking The Rose

Word Count: 6K

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader, featuring BTS

Genre: Soulmate! AU, Angst, Romance, implied smut I’m sorry it’s probably not the best

Rating: Mature

Warning: Use of swear words and some implied smut

A/N: HELLO HELLO I’VE CRAWLED OUT OF MY CAVE ONCE AGAIN! This is a gift for the lovely @minstrivia​ for the KWRITERSWOLD Spring Fic exchange!! I’m cutting it real close to the deadline I’m living life on the edge sorry about that!! The keyword was La Vie en Rose. I hope you enjoyyy~~~~

Summary: Lost in a world of rose and pink, what does one do when the one that abandoned them finally returns. 

Also!! I’d like to thank @chaotikeh and @nambewb for helping meee!! I wouldn’t have been able to writ this without youuuu!

Pink. Blushing shades of rose and rouge permanently tinted her vision – that is, until she finds her soulmate. Twenty-four years of the pink haze didn’t disturb Y/n at all. As a matter of fact, it gave her rather monotonous life some color. That goes to say, she would be lying if she didn’t wonder what it was like to see other colors. Were bananas blue? Are trees black? What color is an orange? The curiosity was always there, but she always kept herself from getting too curious. After all her soulmate might not even be out there.

Y/n moaned, feeling his fingers grope sensually at her supple flesh. His deep groans reverberated in her ear as his large hand slid upwards between her legs. She sighed as he caressed her inner thigh, not quite where she wanted them to be. Her eyes opened in a lidded haze, barely able see past the lust and make out the shape of their figures in the mirror in front of her.

The base of the music at the club was muffled by the bathroom walls, but Y/n could clearly hear the song that was playing. She watched as the man’s hand mapped out her body, giving areas that made her sigh in appreciation extra attention. His lips gently ran over her neck, always leaving her breathless at the precisely placed pecks. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember his name. But it doesn’t matter, once their business was done, they would eventually be going their separate ways.

Y/n closed her eyes, honing-in on the feeling of his hands on her soft body. She let out a loud groan in appreciation, finally feeling the rough friction of the pads of his fingers just where she wanted them. His smooth skin was a soft rosy color, his hair and eyes a deep magenta. The sight in the mirror practically too much to bear, Y/n turned in his arms to pull him in for a sloppy kiss. She ran her hand up his torso, relishing in the indentations of his abdominals and the divots of his collarbones.

It had been a long time since Y/n found the time to loosen up. The company of another man had become quite a regular occurrence, but an upcoming deadline required her undivided attention. Now that the final design had been sent to corporate, she was free – and she was going to make sure she had her fill.

============

Y/n giggled as another man pulled her close to him. This time he was much taller, practically towering over her in her heels. His shoulders were much broader, she was practically swimming in his large jacket. Her smile was etched onto her face as he whispered unspeakable things into her ear, her imagination doing nothing to quell the heat that had only grown over the course of the night.

“Y/n?”

Her head turned instinctively, not bothering to identify the owner of the voice. Not that it would really matter, she had already seen some of her coworkers getting more than close on the dance floor tonight. It seems this was a popular place to release some stress for the company. Oh, how she had wished that it was her manager instead of the man standing two feet away from her.

Y/n had never wanted the ground to swallow her whole as much as she did now. It was like the person she was now had been erased, only be filled in with the naïve woman she was four years ago. The alcohol in her system had evaporated, the man wrapped around her long forgotten. So many emotions hit her all at once. Dread, curiosity, heartbreak, longing, and above all else – utter joy. She didn’t think she would hear his voice ever again, look into his dark magenta eyes ever again. She thought he was gone. He had left, and she didn’t think he was ever going to come back.

“Yoongi.” She whispered. The name was just as sweet on her tongue as it was four years ago. His name was just as bitter in her heart as it was four years ago.

================

Y/n sat in a daze at the café. The steam from her cup swirled gracefully as she stared out the window. A couple cuddled closely together as they went about their day in the chilly weather. Another couple laughed as their child jumped playfully between them. A younger couple awkwardly held hands as the passed the window, both of their faces flushed, and the big smiles hidden from each other.

The café was quaint, quite cute and reasonably priced. Light bulbs were strung along the walls, providing adequate lighting for the decently sized space. The menu was drawn in cute handwriting with adorable little doodles on a chalk board hoisted on the wall behind the barista’s counter. Everything in the café from the walls to the welcome mat were a mix of soft pinks and rose colors blending together to soothe the eyes from the dull office buildings and harsh lighting of city life. If Y/n had normal vision, she was sure the café would be even cuter.

The chair across from Y/n scraped against the floor, stealing her attention from the happy couples outside.

“Took you long en-“Her eyes met with a deep magenta – a shade she couldn’t quite find anywhere else, and a shade she never wanted to see again. She had forgotten. This was a café she and Yoongi absolutely adored.

“I guess some things just don’t change, do they?” Yoongi’s sickeningly soothing voice slithered into her ears as he raised his small espresso cup in acknowledgement to her cappuccino.

Y/n frowned as she basked in Yoongi’s presence. Nothing about him had changed. His eyes drooped ever so slightly like they always did, his jawline was just as defined as it had been, he smacked is lips after every sip just as he always had. He still wore a dark camelot shirt with a lipstick colored flannel, she was sure if she looked under the table she would find the usual pair of worn sneakers he usually wore.  Nothing about his physical appearance had changed at all, but everything else about him did.

His cold stare had melted into something more reserved rather than unapproachable. The way he scanned the room was more methodical, as if he were really considering the surroundings around him rather than glaring at every potential threat. Even the air around him seemed warmer, and she couldn’t even bare to look into his eyes. Something about the way he sat seemed awkward. As if he were a child guilty of breaking something they shouldn’t have been touching in the first place.

His eyebrow raised. “Nothing to say?” Normally, she would’ve replied with a sassy remark.

“Not to you.” Yoongi wasn’t worth it, he couldn’t be anymore.

He sighed, staring into Y/n’s eyes. His mouth opened slightly, his eyebrows were furrowed. “Listen, I wanted to – “

“Y/N!” Seokjin rushed to the table, his tunnel vision focused on Y/n and only Y/n. “You’ll never guess who’s – oh.” Seokjin finally noticed Yoongi. “Yoongi.”

“Hi, Jin hyung,” Yoongi said. He scratched the back of his neck. Yoongi slightly curled into himself at the tone Seokjin had taken when his name was called. It was hard, like that of a scolding parent. “I guess I’ll see you around then,” Yoongi muttered then left as suddenly as he arrived.

Once Yoongi was gone, Seokjin took the seat Yoongi just abandoned. “Are you okay?”

Y/n simply smiled wryly, staring at the small steaming cup of espresso.

The man that was once sitting across from her scared her. She was used to the unpredictable man that the area knew to be a wildcard. One day he would be helping a lady cross the street, the next he’ll be caught up in a bar fight. Her eyes tell her she’s looking at that very same man. Her heart tells her this is someone completely different. She hated that the sight of him practically frozen in time nearly deceived her into dropping her defenses. It was as if she had finally gotten the picture perfect moment she dreamed of four years ago. Yoongi had become the man she saw in him long ago. She would have no trouble fooling herself into believing that she was twenty, naïve and hopelessly in love with the quiet man. If she wanted to delve deeper into her delusion, she could believe that Yoongi had just proposed, that they were going to get married and settle down – maybe have a family.

But Y/n refused to give in. The damage had been done, and she refuses to be the one to hurt herself even more. Where was the man that selfishly stole her heart with a flash of stupid gummy smile and hidden heart of gold? Where was the bastard that lived freely, the one that did whatever the fuck he wanted whenever the fuck he wanted? Where had the asshole that up and disappeared while she was asleep gone?

===============

“I heard from Jin.” Namjoon said, sitting beside Y/n on the park bench. A teenage girl was walking a small dog with pink curls. A few mothers sat together on a bench as they watched their children play on the playground. A group of students were playing some ball game on the field nearby.

“Are you here to reprimand me?” She had to admit, she had been acting a bit childish for the last few months. Yoongi was everywhere. It was the four years he was gone had never happened – their friends welcomed him back immediately. She soon found him moving back into the apartment Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon shared next door. Before she knew it, he was sitting on his couch every day just as he had been before, only this time he was usually here for Hoseok or Taehyung. The only one that seemed to sympathize with her was Seokjin. Even then she could tell he missed Yoongi’s presence dearly. Every time Yoongi saw her he attempted to speak with her, but she hightailed the hell out of the room at every single utterance from Yoongi’s mouth.

“No. You have every right to be doing what you’re doing.” Y/n nodded.

“It’s just..” She looked back at Namjoon. His skin was rouge, his lips were a shade of hot pink. His hair was a pale taffy color. He says his hair is turquoise – some shade of blue, but Y/n wouldn’t even be able to tell nonetheless so he gave up saying “one day you’ll understand.” “Are you okay with this? Aren’t you hurting yourself even more by avoiding him?”

“Talking to him, not talking to him. Both will hurt either way.” Y/n shrugged.

“Don’t you want to know why he left? Why he came back?” Namjoon inquired further.

“You could easily tell me those things right now. I know you two are close, and that you’ve kept in touch the entire time he was gone.” Namjoon bit his lips sadly.

“He told me not to tell you.”

“That you kept in touch? Why he left or why he’s back?”

“All of it.”

“Why?”

“That’s something that you should hear from Yoongi.”

“I don’t want to talk to Yoongi.”

“Why not.”

“Because.”

“He clearly wants to talk to you.”

“Let’s drop it Namjoon.”

“No. You’ve kept your mouth shut tight for four years and I think it’s time that you finally talked about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Y/n please just – “

“CAN WE JUST –“ Y/n burst. Namjoon’s pleas fell silent. “Can we just drop it. Please.” Y/n whispered.

Namjoon sighed exasperatedly. He didn’t even need to look at her to know she was fighting back tears. He had pushed her enough. “If not with me. Please talk about it with others. We’ve let this go on for too goddamn long.”

“Maybe one day.”

“It’s been four years Y/n. Yoongi’s already back.”

“I’m just not ready.”

“You’re so close, and you say you’re not ready.”

Y/n didn’t know what Namjoon meant. All she could do was focus on the pain deep within her. It felt like someone was tearing into the old wounds in her soul. Any more pain, and she was afraid her soul would just shatter.

===============

The base of the club boomed in her ears. Jimin had decided that he wanted try out a new club for his birthday. Once everyone had gotten in Y/n and the boys made a beeline for the bar for Jimin’s birthday shots. Let’s just say their bodies were no longer made up of 70 percent water.

Once everyone had gotten some alcohol in their system, everyone practically dispersed. Jimin and Hoseok were on the dance floor dancing with anyone and everyone that was consensual. Yoongi and Namjoon were by the wall, probably discussing what the DJ was doing and why it works or what they could do better. Seokjin, the social butterfly he was started talking to a girl about what she had done with her makeup and how she got her curls to be so bouncy. Taehyung and Jungkook, the alcohol bringing out the casanovas buried deep inside, were talking up girls left and right. With the deep voices, fit bodies, charming smiles, and sultry eyes – no one was safe. Y/n had run into some friends at the club, opting to catch up with them a bit before she joined Hoseok and Jimin on the dance floor.

“Is that Yoongi?”

“Yeah, yeah he’s back.” Y/n brushed off, her body slightly moving to the beat.

“I see he’s moved on just fine.” Y/n flashed her friend a confused look, turning to glance at the wall behind her.

Namjoon had left Yoongi at the wall, probably dragged by Jin for a dance. Just beside him was a girl. Y/n knew the signs of a girl trying to seduce a man. The slight twirling of the hair and subtle arch of the back practically killed her buzz. Y/n was practically grinding her teeth as imagination accommodated for what her eyes couldn’t see – eyes just a bit wider than usual, occasional bites of the lip, breasts pushed together the whole package – all for Yoongi.

“I see you have not moved on just fine.” Y/n’s friend’s voice broke through the wave of rage that came over her. The sick swirl of jealousy the only remnants of her anger. Y/n wanted to turn back, but it was as if some sadistic force kept her vision glued to Yoongi and the faceless woman. When the girl reached out to touch Yoongi’s arm, she had half a mind to go there and gouge out her eyes for even thinking of laying a hand on Yoongi.

“Let’s not forget he isn’t your’s anymore.” Her friend called out, this time reaching out and turning Y/n back to her. Just as Yoongi’s eyes met Y/n.

Y/n pushed passed her friend, hand gripping her hand to pull her along. “Come on, I need a drink.”

Y/n’s friend smirked, “That’s my girl.”

——————-

Y/n’s body swayed to the music, keeping up with the rolling bodies of everyone around her. With the flip of her hair and a few bites to her lip, she had plenty of dance partners to go around. Lots of nights in the club came with a lot of practice for what works and what doesn’t.

Hoseok and Jimin, despite having partners of their own, kept a close eye on Y/n. Any indication of discomfort would result in at least two very protective men. Y/n on the other hand had grown used to random men pulling her in by the waist to have his little share of fun. Although sometimes annoyed that she had been pulled away from her friends, she entertained them nonetheless.

There wasn’t a problem, until a man grabbed her a bit too tightly. Y/n winced as he held her too close. She wouldn’t have minded if it weren’t for the concern of being held a bit tighter would just result in her breaking in half altogether. Just when the alcohol of all the shots she took finally started to really kick in. Her vision swirled as she weakly tried to pull away. Almost as soon as she was sucked into the large man’s arms, she was just as quickly yanked out. Her head bobbed as she turned to thank her savior. Meeting the rose-colored chin, her blurry vision made eye contact with what she thought was a pair of magenta eyes that drooped slightly.

“Yoongi?” She asked drunkenly.

After blinking a few times, her vision cleared to form the hard face of Jimin. He was focused on the man that forced her to dance. His plush lips straightened into a hard line; his strong arms kept her steady on her feet. There were instances where Jimin held her tighter – maybe the man had started making his way toward them or something. Only when Jimin hand to physically turn around to put himself between her and her dance partner did she start to feel some sense of concern. The intoxication however quelled the slight alarm, making her opt to simply rest her head on Jimin’s chest as he decided to remove her from the situation all together and start exiting the dance floor.

The concern at the pit of her stomach returned full force when Jimin was pulled away from her. The drunken man was quite persistent. The little altercation had Y/n stumbling around a bit, almost falling over completely if someone hadn’t caught her. Y/n never forgot the feeling of the arms that had caught her. This time she was sure, and she didn’t need to check to make sure it was Yoongi.

Freezing up in his arms, Y/n was hit with an overwhelming wave of emotions. His arms felt strong, and safe. She knew Yoongi would take care of the insistent man, Yoongi always had in the past. Her insides were practically melting when his soothing voice reverberated in her ears. What he was saying, she was too drunk to tell but she was coherent enough to know she just didn’t want him to shut up.

Yoongi’s secure grip on her didn’t relent until security had escorted the man out of the club. Then, he took the chance to really look at her.

“Are you okay?” Y/n simply smiled, happy that she had finally gotten the courage to get another look at his face. Months of trying to ignore his existence was really hard, especially when she never failed to secretly listen to him when he was talking. “I’m going to take that as a no.” Yoongi muttered to himself. He turned to Jimin, yelling something into his ear. Once Jimin nodded, he gently grabbed Y/n’s hand, leading her toward the exit.

The crisp air was a nice break from the stuffy club. Y/n couldn’t resist taking a deep breath of the fresh air, only adding on to the euphoric intoxication. Yoongi and Y/n stood, holding hands as they waited for their ride to come pick them up.

Feeling a bit chilly, Y/n cuddled up to the arm attached to the hand holding her own. Yoongi looked at her, briefly pulling away to place his jacket on her shoulders. He sighed, “What am I gonna do with you?” Y/n only giggled in response, quickly cuddling back up to his arm. She wasn’t nearly as drunk as she was before. Just for tonight, she wanted to play along with the fantasy that he had never up and left her in her sleep. Just for one night, she wanted to give into every desire of her soul that arose the second her eyes were laid upon Yoongi.

The next time her eyes opened, Yoongi was carrying her up their apartment complex. Seeing that she was awake, he got her to hand him the keys of the apartment she shared with Seokjin, Hoseok, and Taehyung. Asking her if she wanted anything to eat or drink, he carried her to her room once she had rejected his offer. Making sure her dress was comfortable enough to sleep in seeing as it would be difficult to help her change if she had wanted to, he simply removed her shoes and placed it in her closet along with the rest of the heels she reserves just for nights out. As he laid her on her plush pink bed, she instinctively wrapped her hands around his neck, holding him hostage as he awkwardly leaned over her.

“Stay.”

Yoongi’s dark magnta eyes bore deeply into her own. Once the fight within himself had finished, he pulled the blankets back taking his place beside her in her bed. They laid, satisfied with simply looking at each other. When Y/n’s eyes started to droop, she cuddled up to Yoongi. Like a missing puzzle, their bodies molded perfectly to each other. Yoongi placed his chin on the crown of Y/n’s head, her face was buried in his neck. He gently ran his fingers through her hair, just how she liked it four years ago.

“Don’t leave me again. Please.” Y/n’s voice cracked sleepily. She clutched tightly to his shirt, tears sliding down her face and Yoongi’s neck. Her shoulders quaked with silent sobs. He was here… he was finally here.

“I won’t. Never again, I promise.”

===============

Y/n woke up to an empty bed. She smiled bitterly to herself, maybe her dream was too good to be true. She took the painkillers someone – probably Hoseok – placed on her bedside table. Once her head started to pound less, she brushed her teeth to rid herself of the strange taste of lingering alcohol and sleep. Afterward, she went back to sleep, knowing she’d wake up a bit more coherent. A knock on the door woke up Y/n.

“We’re gonna go out for food. If you need anything, I think Jungkook’s gonna be home. I’ll bring you something back.” Seokjin called through the door. Y/n groaned, deciding that it was time to really get up.

The shower worked wonders on washing away any lingering grogginess. Her head still hurt slightly, but much more tolerable compared to earlier. Decked out in a pair of shorts and one of Taehyung’s hoodies, Y/n left her apartment, making sure she had the key and locked the door behind her as she made her way to Jungkook next door. This was their routine. The boys would go out for a meal, bringing back something for her and Jungkook while they nursed their hangovers with video games.

Using the spare key cleverly placed under their doormat, Y/n let herself in. Hearing shuffling from the living room, she assumed Jungkook had also just woken up and started to set up. Making her way to the common room, Y/n could feel the competitiveness rise inside her.

It wasn’t Jungkook in the living room.

Yoongi was lying on the couch, propped up on his elbows with some girl lying on top of him. The dress looks vaguely familiar, but Y/n could remember for the life of her. Yoongi’s head snapped to the doorway, the look on his face would’ve been comical had Y/n didn’t feel the remnants of her soul literally rip itself into dust.

“Y/n-“

Y/n felt numb as her body acted on instinct. She practically flew out of the apartment, hastily throwing herself against the apartment door to unlock it and let herself in before anyone else. She could practically feel Yoongi hot on her heels. As if the world was on her side, she managed to open the door almost instantly. As if the world decided to flip her the biggest bird in the history of the world, Yoongi was there before she could even close the door.

“Y/n! Please it’s not what you think.”

“Oh shut the hell up EVERYONE always says that you son of a bitch.” Y/n pushed harder against the door but even she knew it was useless. The only reason she wasn’t flying against the wall was because Yoongi wasn’t pushing as hard as he could.

“If you let me explain, then you’ll understand.” Yoongi urged. It was a pathertic sight to see actually. Y/n was pushing with all her might, the only reason the door was quivering was because Y/n was incredibly weak compared to Yoongi. Yoongi on the other hand was quite relaxed.

“Explain? You were the one that left me.” Y/n hissed, tears blurring her rosy vision. Her stomach churned at the heartache she felt all those years ago. The pain in her chest reminded her so much of the past she couldn’t help but recall the sight of Yoongi’s back as he walked out of her life – her last memory of him before she woke up and he was long gone.

“I left because I wasn’t good for you.” Yoongi responded heatedly, quickly catching on that it wasn’t about the girl he just threw out of his apartment.

“You had no right to make that decision for me. I was ready to leave everything for you.” Y/n replied fiercely, angry at his excuse.

“That’s exactly why I left.”

“That doesn’t explain anything Yoongi.”

“You go around preaching that I can’t make decision for you. But what about my feelings? How did you think I would feel if I let you drop everything you had planned in your life for me? I was content with just being with you, knowing that you were going to have a good life but suddenly you started talking about tying the knot? Hitting the road with me? You had a good future ahead of you. A good home, a well-paying job, a supportive family – I couldn’t even dream of having any of those things. Did you think I was going to let you sacrifice your future? That I was going to let you add on to the long list of things that you had already sacrificed to be with me? I couldn’t bear to be the reason why you dropped your life for some loser with no plan for the future.”

“I didn’t care about any of that back then. I thought it was you and me against the world Yoongi. You made me feel like I could do anything, that anything was possible. You made me feel free – that living was more than just surviving.” Y/n choked, her voice thick with heartbreak.

“You can still feel that way now Y/n. We could face the world together. Just give me a chance to show you.” Yoongi was practically begging.

“It’s all different now. You can’t just come back and expect to pick up where we left off four years ago. I’m not the same girl I was before Yoongi, don’t think that just because you’re back I’m going to-“

“I LOVE YOU.” Yoongi blurted out, unable to hold back the phrase he was too afraid to say four years ago.

“What?” Y/n said in a daze, the world swirling in a rosy haze. Y/n had dreamed of hearing those words back then. She hated that the stupid phrase had her stomach flipping as if it were an Olympic gymnast. Her body went slack against the door, giving Yoongi the chance to enter the apartment.

After locking the front door, Yoongi closed in on Y/n. She hastily stepped back until her back was met with a wall. “I love you. I loved you then, and I still love you now.” Yoongi said softly, looking deeply into Y/n’s eyes. He brought a hand up to delicately caress Y/n’s cheek, as if she were going to disappear if he touched her too roughly.

His magenta hues were deep, desperate, and longing.  The raw emotion in his eyes reignited a feeling buried deep down inside Y/n, a feeling she thought died the day Namjoon told her Yoongi was gone. She almost forgot what that feeling was like. Like a pull from deep within her, she was almost convinced if the man before her died, a large part of her would die along with him.

“Y-you can’t just suddenly–“

“Please. Give me – give us one more chance.” Yoongi’s voice was thick with emotion. His magenta eyes were filled with tears.

“I- I can’t. I can’t take that risk again.” Y/n shook her head desperately, even though everything within her ached to give into him – to give into what her heart had ached for all this time. Never again did she want the deepest depths of her soul to feel empty. Never again did she want to see her heart crushed – this time beyond repair.

“I wasn’t thinking straight when I left. Hell, I never should’ve thought of leaving in the first place.” Yoongi shut his eyes as if the memory physically pained him.

“Then why did you?” Y/n asked. Maybe she was finally she was going to the answers she couldn’t help but imagine over the years they had been separated.

“You scared me. The way you made me feel scared me. You stumbled into my life so suddenly, and completely changed it. You made me want to settle down, have a family, hell even get a job in a stupid office. I thought I had the rest of my life planned out before I met you. But then you came along, and everything changed, But I knew I wasn’t enough for what you needed and that hurt me. I didn’t know how to deal those feelings then.” Y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes. “But what scared me even more was the emptiness I felt after I left you. It was like I was suddenly lost in this endless void. After I lost you, I lost my purpose in life.” Yoongi’s voice cracked as tears fell steadily down his face.

The sight broke Y/n’s heart. It was a rare occurrence to see Yoongi so vulnerable, so open and willing to let her in. “How do I know you won’t leave me again?” She asked quietly, afraid of hearing an answer she couldn’t bear to receive. She could feel herself on the verge of caving.

“I’m not going anywhere this time. Not without you.” Yoongi said, pushing a lock of hair behind Y/n’s ear.

“You shattered my heart four years ago Yoongi.” Y/n lost herself in a blur of magenta. Yoongi’s eyes zeroed in on her plush pink lips.

“I’ll spend the rest of our lives putting your heart back together.” Yoongi murmured, his eyes shut as he his lips against Y/n’s. They were soft, silky even as they smoothly slid against hers. His kisses were even sweeter than Y/n remembered, his lips softer than her memory could even hope to recall.

Y/n pulled away before she could get drunk on the feeling of his lips against hers. “What if I don’t want to be with you like that?”

“Then I’ll have to live with being just friends.”

“What if I don’t want you in my life.”

“Then I’ll keep my distance.”

“What if I don’t want that?”

“Then what do you want?” Yoongi asked, his lips but a hair away from her own. His warm breath fanned her warm face, his eyes bore deeply into Y/n, ready to engulf her

The pull within Y/n was so strong, it was as if a band was stretched just before its limit. Just a bit further and the band within her soul would snap. Tears continued to slide down Y/n’s cheeks. This was it. She could feel it, and she was sure Yoongi could feel it too. Once the decision was made, there would be no turning back. She searched his eyes one more time. What it was she was looking for, she wasn’t sure, but she could feel it. Whatever she wanted, she knew it was worth risking her soul. Life without Yoongi was like drowning without water.

“You. I want you,” Y/n whispered, pulling Yoongi closer.

Their lips clashed in a heated dance, molding as perfectly as they had four years ago. She sighed as the slightest touch of his strong hands set a trail of fire on her body. The stumbled through the white door, Yoongi somehow managing to kick it shut behind him. He eased her onto the white sheets, soothing the heat of their skin.

His rosy hands held her close as he connected their lips again. Their groans and sighs mixed in a feverish symphony. The light of the sun made their expressions clearer, making their dance much more enticing and intimate. Her pink hands eased the checkered flannel off his shoulders, she couldn’t resist tasting the skin of the pink collarbones peeking out from under his t-shirt. Yoongi groaned as Y/n’s body molded to his, creating a friction that had his mind going blank. Unable to withstand the barriers between them, Y/n did away with Yoongi’s shirt and pants while Yoongi took care of her hoodie and shorts.

The skin-on skin contact made their souls sigh in relief, and they couldn’t get enough of each other. Y/n gasped as Yoongi bit into the swell of her chest through her blue bra. She squirmed in pleasure as he took her back to their younger days four years ago, all she could do is hold tightly to his hair as the memories that once suffocated her had her drowning in ecstasy.

“You’re beautiful,” Yoongi murmured as he kissed his way down her abdomen and between her legs. Y/n moaned loudly as Yoongi had her seeing stars. The sight of him was almost too much to bear. Yoongi had her body branded into her memory. He knew every spot that had her sighing, which places had her groaning and which ones screaming. He didn’t fail to use that to his advantage. Like an ocean wave that only teases with the push and the pull, Yoongi had her dancing dangerously on the edge before dragging her far from it.

“Yoongi, don’t tease me. Not today.” Y/n begged, unable to bear his games for any longer. Complying to her request, Yoongi gave Y/n what she desperately needed. Her vision swirled in a mess of pinks and foreign lights. Yoongi smiled softly, twirling her hair as he patiently waited for her to catch her breath. Y/n smiled widely as she stared into his eyes. She pushed him to lie on the bed to return the favor he did for her. Before she could even pass his belly button, he pulled her back up.

“Maybe another time.” Yoongi said, softly caressing Y/n’s curious face. “Right now, I just want to be with you.’ Grabbing his hand to softly kiss his fingertips, Y/n nodded. She straddled his body, hovering just over him. She dipped her head to softly kiss Yoongi. Y/n’s mind swirled in joy and pleasure almost as much as their tongues twisted in an intimate dance.

Once they were finally connected, both Yoongi and Y/n gasped, both in pleasure and in awe. Like an explosion, their vision burst with lights they hadn’t seen before. Vibrant hues of colors they couldn’t identify filled their vision. With every movement from Yoongi or Y/n, more colors bled into their line of sight. Gently yet all at the same time, the hues of pinks, rose, and magentas faded only to be replaced with an alien hue that one of the boys needed to educate them on.

Y/n stared into Yoongi’s obsidian eyes. She already knew this was going to be her favorite color. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They lost themselves in the brilliance of their bond. The hues of their past, the saturation of their present, and the brilliant tint of their love. Together, they had broken the rose.

#kwritersworldnet #kwspringexchange #yoonkooknetwork #armyofwriters #hyunglinenetwork #yoongi.net #bangtanarmynet #thebtstown #bts #bts imagine #bts scenario #yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenario #yoongi angst #bts soulmate au #bts angst #bts smut #yoongi smut #min yoongi #bts fanfiction #suga #btsprotectnet

[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 9: Girl Talk

(Click here for chapter 8!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

“Hermione, would you mind if Ron and I go now? Not to be rude, but we have Quidditch practice and … you know,” Harry said sheepishly.

Hermione couldn’t help but smile. For her birthday, Ginny and the boys had surprised her with a truly lovely evening. They had caught her after Transfiguration class and brought her to her private chambers which had been decorated using a seemingly completely random assortment of silly and rather tacky Muggle party supplies. As a result, the four of them were now sitting in her small bedroom amidst an explosion of colourful balloons, gigantic honeycomb balls made of flimsy tissue paper as well as lots and lots of cheap, glittering plastic streamers.  There was even a cheesy banner hanging on one of the walls that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY HERMIONE! XOXO in big, bold letters. How her friends had orchestrated all of this, she did not know. Even after some intense questioning on her part, they had refused to disclose how exactly they had managed to gain access to the password-protected Head Girl Tower without her knowledge; however, Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that a certain free elf may or may not have had something to do with it.

Naturally, the trio also hadn’t forgotten to shower her in gifts, all of which were now neatly stacked on her dresser, right next to all of the other presents she had already received earlier during the day: a beautiful bouquet of fragrant wildflowers from Neville, a rather peculiar-looking necklace and a handmade card from Luna, and a parcel filled with an abundance of merchandise from the newest Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes product range, courtesy of Fred and George. Needless to say, Hermione wasn’t planning on touching or especially using any of the joke items, but she still greatly appreciated the thought.

The newest additions to this small collection were a small, round bottle of fairly pricey perfume from Ginny, a fluffy scarf made of thick, mulberry-coloured wool with a matching beanie and half-mittens from Ron (though Hermione thought it likely that he hadn’t actually bought them but rather had them made by his warm-hearted mother) as well as an expensive quill set from her favourite stationary store in Diagon Alley and an interesting book about wizarding tattoos – which were permanently charmed upon application and therefore moved across sections of the body similar to the way magical photos or paintings did on canvas – from Harry. The Muggle-born had almost let out a little laugh when realising that it was the exact same volume that she herself had purchased from Tomes and Scrolls only a few months prior and that was now sitting on one of her shelves in this very room. Not that she would ever tell him – it was the gesture that counted, after all!

“No worries,” Hermione said. “Of course you can go! I know how important this last season is for the both of you.”

“And besides,” the youngest Weasley chimed in. “Hermione and I need some time to ourselves for a long overdue girl talk anyway! With all this school work and stressing out about Quidditch, we really haven’t had the chance to chat in like forever. I’m sure you won’t mind me missing out on one training session, right?” she asked, as if they hadn’t already hashed all of this out beforehand.

“Not at all,” Harry answered lovingly before moving in to give her a quick peck on the lips, with Ron demonstratively looking the other way. After having the weight of constant threats and fear for the lives of his loved ones lifted from his shoulders following the end of the war, it seemed as though the young wizard with the famous lightening scar was finally feeling comfortable enough to have a normal and out-in-the-open relationship with his redheaded sweetheart.

The two boys then hugged the birthday girl goodbye before making a swift exit. As soon as the door shut behind them, Ginny turned to Hermione with the biggest grin on her face; it almost made the freckles on her rosy cheeks look like they were dancing.

“We finally did it, Hermione!” she exclaimed excitedly.

Absentmindedly picking at the remaining crumbs of a cake that had once read Sweet Eighteen, the older girl frowned in confusion. “Who did what?” she asked.

“Harry and I! You know …” Her expression turned cheeky.

“Oh … OH!” The nature of the topic instantly made the witch feel awkward. “Um, well, that’s great for you, Gin!”

“Thank you! Oh Hermione, it was absolutely wonderful! We sneaked out late night on Saturday and met up in the Room of Requirements. I don’t know what Harry asked for exactly, but he definitely aced it! The whole room was decorated with rose petals and floating candles; and there was a huge canopy bed and even a fireplace! I can’t even begin to tell you how long I’d been waiting for this moment and it turned out just perfect! Harry was so gentle and …”

Hermione listened to her babble on with only half an ear. She was happy for her best friend, of course; but at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel a little sullen. With the majority of her teenage years having been spent cramming for exams while trying to keep Harry alive and out of trouble, she had never had the time for any romantic escapades. In her juvenile blindness, Gilderoy Lockhart had been her first heartthrob and she had even harboured a small crush on Sirius Black for a while. A quick snog with Viktor Krum underneath the Quidditch Pitch bleachers during the night of the Yule Ball, however, had been the most action she’d ever had. While most people – including Harry, Ginny and probably even Ron himself – still seemed to think that she and the Gryffindor Keeper would someday end up together, Hermione had ruled out that scenario a long time ago. She loved the boy dearly, but he would never be more than a good friend to her; they were just too different. She needed someone more mature – someone who put as much emphasise on intellect and academics as her. But did someone like that even exist in the first place?

“… And I’m just so happy right now! I really feel like our relationship has been taken to a whole new level.” Ginny paused for a second. “Anyway, enough of me. Now tell me what’s been going on in the life of Hogwarts’ smartest smartass.”

“Hey!” Hermione proclaimed exasperatedly, but she did have to giggle when she saw the redhead’s smug expression – her friends had all figured out a long time ago how to rile her up using foul language. “Well, not much really. I’ve just been studying, fulfilling my duties as Head Girl, doing my lessons with Professor Snape and –“

“Galloping gargoyles! I’d totally forgotten about you and that slimy bastard!” the younger girl shouted, ignoring her shocked and appalled look. “You know, I still can’t believe that you chose him as your tutor! I mean, I’m already having a hard time with how strict McGonagall is being with me, and she can’t be even half as bad as that minger. How are you holding up?”

“It’s really not that bad. I mean, yes, he does make me work hard, but I knew that going in. And quite frankly, a big workload is not the worst thing – I do want to improve my brewing skills, after all. Plus, I do think that all of you have a completely wrong impression of Professor Snape. It’s true that he’s quite stern and almost cold sometimes, but he was a true hero during the war; you know that as well as I do. And after allowing me to work in his private lab and giving me that amazing birthday gift, I really don’t believe that –“

“WHAT?” Ginny’s outcry was so intense that her hazel eyes bulged to an abnormal extent. “Private lab? Birthday gift?! What the hell? You haven’t even been working with that plonker for a month and you already seem to be talking about a completely different Snape than me!”

Hermione was more than a little irritated at being interrupted yet again, but she decided to let it slide. “Merlin’s beard, Ginny, calm down! Yes, we are both talking about the same Professor Snape; and yes, he still is the same snarky and spiteful wizard as always. More importantly, however, it wasn’t like he invited me into his laboratory voluntarily. The Hospital Wing was in desperate need of medicine, but the Potions classroom was occupied – so he didn’t really have a choice but to have us use his personal workspace to brew.”

“Hmm, I guess that makes sense. It’s still a bit weird, though.” There was a brief moment of silence. “Wait … Wouldn’t his private lab be inside his personal quarters?”

When she didn’t answer immediately, the ginger-haired adolescent started jumping up and down excitedly on the bed. “By Salazar’s balls, Hermione! I cannot believe you entered the Dungeon Bat’s private chambers and lived to tell the tale! How does it look down there? Is it true that he has every single mirror covered with a piece of cloth so that he doesn’t have to see his own ugliness, just like Charlie used to want me to believe? Oh, you have to tell me everything!”

She rolled her eyes. “Just stop it. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. I had to promise him not to tell a soul anyway. So don’t even try to squeeze any specifics out of me!”

“Oh, come on! You can’t lure me with such a scandalous story and then leave out all the juicy details! You will tell me, even if I have to force you!” And with those words, she dropped to her knees, grabbed one of the bed’s many pillows and started hitting her friend with it ruthlessly.

“OUCH! Hey, Ginny, stop it! AH!” Hermione tried dodging the cushioned weapon, but it was to no avail. “Okay, okay, stop bothering me already! You really are something, Ginevra Weasley – it’s quite mean of you to treat me in such a way on my birthday, you know!” she exclaimed before hastily fixing her now messed-up ponytail. “I will tell you, but not before you promise me not to tell anyone, not even Harry! Professor Snape would kill me if he found out that I dared to blab.”

The redhead was beaming following her victory. “Pinky promise!”

Hermione audibly sighed before proceeding. “Well, his rooms are definitely not what you would expect. I didn’t view them in their entirety, of course; but from what I could see, there wasn’t a speck of Slytherin colours anywhere. It didn’t feel like a dark and gloomy dungeon space either. His sitting room is filled with hundreds upon hundreds of books, some of which I have never even heard of, Gin! Oh, how I wish I could just go back and browse for a few hours! A few of the books seem to be centuries-old originals that were written by hand and –“ She stopped herself when she noticed the annoyed look on the other girl’s face. “Anyway, it’s actually quite cosy down there; he even has a fireplace. And yes, there was a mirror, without any cloth in sight. That’s about it, really. There were some doors leading to other rooms, but he understandably directed me into the laboratory rather quickly. I know that you’re not that into brewing, but let me tell you that even you would be amazed by that place. So much amazing machinery and such rare ingredients! Oh, I could go on forever!”

“Yeah, yeah, please spare me the details. I couldn’t care less about his silly collection –“ Ginny skilfully overlooked her friend’s glare. “The interesting part is that you’ve actually been inside his private chambers. That’s absolutely insane! Just wait until Harry and Ron find out, we’ll be able to play so many awesome pranks on that git! Next time you go –“

“No, Ginny! I told you, you cannot tell anybody!”

“But –“

“NO! No ifs, ands or buts – just stop! You promised me, remember? I don’t think I’ll ever have the chance to go back anyway. Besides, after receiving that terrific gift from him yesterday, I really ought to be thankful rather than play any mean tricks on him.”

To beat her to another overemotional outburst, Hermione quickly recounted Dumbledore’s surprise visit and explained the tradition of giving gifts to one’s apprentice to celebrate them becoming another year older.

“So McGonagall will give me a birthday gift, too?” Ginny asked eagerly. The Head Girl confirmed with a brief bob of her head. “Sweet! But what did the old bugger get you anyhow?”

Hermione furled her eyebrows in distaste before using the Summoning Charm on her new most prized possession and handing it to the girl.

“Huh? It just looks like some old book that’s about to fall apart,” Ginny said, clearly disappointed by the worn object laying on her lap.

“I know that it may not look like much, but it’s the exact opposite. This here,” Hermione lifted the book so that it was on eye-level. “– is one of the most infamous wizarding works ever created. It’s so rare that not even the Ministry possesses a copy of it. Gin, this book is priceless – it’s easily worth more than the net worth of all current and past Quidditch players in the entire world combined!”

Finally understanding the severity of the situation, Ginny gasped. “And Snape still gave it to you?! Why in Merlin’s name would he do something like that?”

“I honestly don’t know. Such a gift would already be considered excessive even if we were friends, so I don’t understand at all why he would give it to me despite his obvious hatred towards me.” She heaved a sigh. “I’ve been racking my brain all day trying to come up with a way to properly thank him, but I don’t think I would even know what to say. I mean, this is the most amazing thing that anyone’s ever done for me!”

(Click here for chapter 10!)

#Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #severus snape #severus snape x hermione granger #Hermione Granger #slytherinknowitall #Slytherin Know-It-All #potion fumes and cauldron leaks #PFACL #PFACL chapter 9 #chapter 9 #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfictionbyusignolo #fanfiction by usignolo masterlist #usignolo masterlist #fanfiction by usignolo #masterlist #snape lives au #pro severus snape #snanger #secret crush #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #slow burn #apprenticeship #romance

[minijenn]

Memoriam

Gravity Falls Cemetery 12:00 PM

It had only been a week since the group’s return to Earth and when they informed the others of Steven’s demise, everyone reacted differently: Greg and Andy were wrecks, Stan and Ford weren’t any better, Lapis and Peridot had grown very distant from the others out of shame, and Pacifica was sad and primarily comforted her husband during this crisis. The Pines’ kids comforted their parents over this event as well, but they all paled in comparison to what happened when they told Connie, Rosie, and Rebecca the news.

During their absence, the group noticed that Connie put on some weight, but when they remembered that she slept with Steven the night before they left Earth to bring Comet back, it wasn’t too hard to figure out: she was pregnant again. The joyous news turned bittersweet after she learned of her husband’s fate, with the group promising to help Connie get through this, even without Steven. Still, in the aftermath of this tragedy, Connie hadn’t bothered leaving the house, Rosie grew angrier out of grief and sadness, and Rebecca locked herself in her room, crying her eyes out.

Despite Steven’s surviving family’s feelings, it couldn’t be helped when they had to have a memorial service for him. It was originally intended to involve Steven’s surviving family, Greg, the Gems, Andy, Dipper, Mabel, Stan, Ford, Lapis, Peridot, Lion, Soos, Wendy, Pacifica, and the Pines’ kids. However, when the news got out, everyone in Gravity Falls intended to come and pay their respects to one of the Heroes of Weridmageddon, a moniker bestowed upon Steven, Connie, Dipper, and Mabel years ago. As expected, the whole cemetery was crowded with the entire population of Gravity Falls in attendance, a feat unprecedented in the town’s history.

Everyone was dressed in black and unaware that in the wilderness of Gravity Falls, the inhabitants shared in mourning the loss of Steven, a boy—now man—that helped save them all those years ago. The ceremony began with Garnet, mostly because she was the only member of Steven’s immediate family that could handle the event without breaking down.

“Dearly beloved, we are all here to mourn the loss of Steven Quartz Universe, someone we’ve all known since his childhood in one way or another,” Garnet said shakily, doing her best not to cry again. “We…cannot forget all that he has done nor, can we allow ourselves to wallow in grief. Steven was a happy boy who became a loving and devoted father and husband…and I know he would want to be with them again more than anything.”

Connie and her kids nodded in agreement, unable to even speak out of the grief they all shared. Everyone else important in Steven’s life weren’t better off, which only reminded Garnet why she needed to be strong now.

“Steven always felt obligated to live up to his mother’s legacy, but in the end…he became better than she ever was,” Garnet said with a bittersweet smile. “Steven grew into an incredible man with a devoted family, lifelong friends, and even though it was only half of what he was…he reminded us all what it meant to be human.”

Garnet then stared forlornly at Steven’s now-closed casket, briefly succumbing to grief before she recollected herself.

“Steven remained selfless, honorable, brave, and true, right until the very end and even though he is no longer with us, perhaps we can learn from his example and better ourselves,” Garnet said as she unconsciously cried with tears running down her cheeks. “Steven was…Steven was…a wonderful man and I’m sure that Rose would be proud of him. Please…I-I-I can’t…”

Unable to hold her feelings in any longer, Garnet collapsed from grief, her physical form briefly coming undone before she pulled herself together. When she stood up, she was surprised when everyone in Steven’s immediate life came onto the podium, even with her future vision. They all had bittersweet smiles and hugged the Gem leader, united by their shared grief. The moment lasted for a few minutes but when it ended, they were unable to add anything more to Garnet’s speech.

When it was time for Steven’s casket to be buried, they all remained in revered silence over his loss while the inhabitants of the wilderness and Gravity Falls mourned him in their own ways. Miraculously, Connie managed to find her voice long enough to ask for a moment of privacy with her deceased husband, which they unanimously agreed to let her have.

“Hey, Steven,” Connie said in a hoarse voice due to how heavily she was mourning him. “I don’t know if you’re looking down at us, but I wanted you to know that…we’re going to have another kid.”

There was an obvious moment of silence between them, which only made Connie chuckle bittersweetly as tears absentmindedly ran down her face. “Yeah, I can guess that would be your response. I don’t know if the kid will be a boy or another girl, but something tells me you’d be rooting for a boy; God, I wish the girls and I didn’t take up so much time in the morning.”

Eventually, she lost any semblance of levity as she formed a morose expression and said with a cracking voice, “I…I really wish you were here, Steven. We woke up together every day, we never went to bed angry, we never let a day pass by where we didn’t say, ‘I love you’ and we did the same for our kids, you…rocked my world every night if you know what I mean, and you were the greatest person I’ve ever known or will know. I love you, Steven…please, don’t forget that.”

Connie reluctantly left and one by one, Steven’s family and friends came to pay their respects before the remaining inhabitants of Gravity Falls did the same. Once the ceremony was over, they all slowly left, with Steven’s surviving family, the Gems, and Lion remaining the longest before they followed suit. Unbeknownst to any of them, Steven watched the entire ceremony from a safe distance away and was in a state of despair. It wasn’t until he felt an oddly familiar hand on his shoulder that he turned and saw his mother, Rose Quartz, in an identical spiritual state as him.

“Mom?” Steven asked anxiously.

“It’s time, son,” Rose said with a bittersweet expression as she held her son’s hand for the first time.

“Can you…can you please, show me who you really are?” Steven hesitantly requested, with Rose obliging as she shapeshifted back into her original form: Pink Diamond.

“Yeah, it’s me. I didn’t want you to… but, that was wrong,” Rose admitted as she hugged her son, still utilizing her new voice over her old one. “I put so much pressure on you without even realizing it and I put everyone in danger because I was so selfish.”

“Mom, you made a lot of mistakes, but you did care about the Earth,” Steven admitted with a bittersweet expression. “You cared about the Gems, my dad, and Lion and…whatever you did in the past doesn’t really matter now.”

The two remained in a comfortable silence before Steven asked, “So, what’s it like over there? Is it…nice?”

“It’s…okay enough. There’s a lot of good people and Gems there, so that’s comforting,” Rose replied as she tightened her grip on her son. “I don’t know if this means anything because of what I’ve done, but…I’m so proud of what you’ve become Steven. Oh, and don’t worry; we can pop in from time to time to check up on them.”

After a few moments, Rose and Steven ended their embrace and after a few moments, Rose sang, “If I could begin to be, half of what you think of me, I could do about anything. I could even learn how to love.”

Unable to pass on this opportunity, Steven joined her in a duet and both started to sing, “When I see the way you act, wondering when I’m coming back, I could do about anything. I could even learn how to love like you. Love like you.”

Rose then reembraced her son, but both continued to sing as their bodies started to glow pink. “I always thought I might be bad, now I’m sure that its true, ‘cause I think you’re so good and I’m nothing like you.”

She then stared deeply into Steven’s eyes and motioned for him to briefly stop singing, fully intending for this part to be towards him. “Look at you, go. I just adore you. I wish that I knew what makes you think I’m so special.”

Steven soon did the same, which stunned his mother to her core, immensely flattered by his gesture. “If I could begin to do, something that does right by you. I would do about anything. I would even learn how to love.”

For the finale, Steven and Rose united in a crescendo of heartfelt singing as their spirits began to fade from the Earth for now. “When I see the way you look, shaken by how long it took. I could do about anything. I could even learn how to love like you. Love like you. Love me like you.”

When their singing ended, the Gem mother and her child disappeared in two flashes of pink light, hopeful that their family and friends would one day come to terms with this tragedy.

#universe falls #sumbission #submission #Augh what a tearjerker wow #uf fan fics