#but that was in winter when the snow reflected even more light and there were no tree leaves to block it

[saekkas]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

summary: in which you need to wrestle your boyfriend, michael kaiser, out of his bed to fulfil a promise- re dye his hair.

notes: it's meant to be a continuation of this fic but you can read it as a standalone too! 2.1k words for my favorite german pomeranian <3

germany is beautiful. in all seasons and weather, even with rain and snow pelting down the windows. the bread and sausages make amazing breakfast items, the beer is pleasantly warm, and the sight of castles and palaces all around the country make you feel like a princess. your favorite though, is when spring comes around.

spring blows away the last dregs of winter. there are puddles from melted snow all over the station, sweaters are still needed because of the chilly air, and christmas decorations still litter around town square, ready to be replaced by the eggs of easter. it's when mother nature reappears, pushing winter away for another half year.

coincidentally, it's michael kaiser's least favorite time of the year.

"you don't love me anymore, do you?" he dramatically sobs into your neck, his hands holding onto your body for dear life. "you're moving away to break up with me, aren't you?"

his duvets feel like clouds. made out of the softest material, you find it hard to haul yourself out of the room every day. his sheets are made of silk, a beautiful rose gold in hue, and his bed is enormous, framed by mahogany wood on all sides. kaiser's bedroom is heaven on earth, and you've got your personal angel lying in the middle of it all.

"you've finally found someone better, haven't you?" he asks once more, his eyes peeking from your chest. his hair is a mess, the blue streaks already fading out to match the rest of his hair, there are dark circles surrounding his eyes, and he's got patches of drool in the corner of his lips. but you don't think he's ever looked more ethereal than this.

"who is it?" there's a pout on his lips, his eyes still drowsy from sleep. you watch with a smile of your own, taking in his fluttering eyelashes, your faces close enough to count every last one. "is it a guy from china that you met in hawaii? is he prettier than me? richer? is that why you're leaving me for him?"

"what are you even talking about, silly?" even when you roll your eyes, the smile stays, and you look at him with every bit of fondness in your body. "you're the only pretty boy for me. you know that."

his lips stretch out into a dopey smile, an uncontained giggle spilling from his lips. there's a certain giddiness in his motions, as if he couldn't contain his feelings inside his body. you watch with amusement as he kicks his feet, accidentally pushing pillows out of the bed.

"mhm. i know. just wanted to hear you say it," he hums, going back to nuzzling your tummy. he mumbles incoherently against your shirt before yanking the fabric up, burrowing his face onto your bare skin. "love you, pretty."

"were you out drinking last night?" you shake your head, squealing when he blows against your bare skin. "i thought i could trust ness to keep you out of trouble."

"i wasn't drinking." he's back to his whiny state, both of his hands tightening on your waist. there's a glare this time, his lips twisting back into a pout. "you shouldn't trust ness. trust me instead."

sunlight bleeds into the room, soft and serene as they bypass the curtains. a ray bounces off the mirror on kaiser's vanity, one he specifically added just for you, and makes its way to his face, bathing him in a dreamy glow. the reflection of light turns his eye into an icy blue, stealing your breath. he looks divine.

you take him in, as much as he does you. there's a muted sound from traffic, and the chatter of birds but in the moment, nothing else matters except you and him. his frown deepens after a moment of silence and you chuckle, relenting as you thread your hands into his hair.

"love you too, baby."

if there's anything you've learned from dating him through years, it's that your boyfriend absolutely loathes it when you fail to respond to his declarations of love. another thing, is that he becomes clingier and far more possessive when spring comes, dreading every moment he has to be away from you for matches.

it's seen in the way he's holding your body tighter, preventing you from moving an inch off the bed. he's pouty, lips twisted downward because it's the last day he has you to himself before he's called back to the field. it's on days like this that you smother him until he can't shake away the ghost of your lips around his body, even in the middle of a match.

"gonna let me move anytime soon?" the hand on his head moves to glide down his neck, stroking the sensitive skin around the back of his ear. you watch as he moans, his eyes snapping shut at the touch. "mein kaiser?"

"wenn du so weitermachst." his voice is low, his heart beating faster as he moves from his previous position to hover above you with half lidded eyes. "du wirst dich überhaupt nicht bewegen können, liebling."

translation: if you continue to be like this, you won't be able to move at all, darling.

you suppose there's a reason he's down on earth rather than above. michael kaiser may have the looks of an angel but he acts like the devil.

he's looking down at you with a dangerous glint in his eyes, as if ready to eat you alive. you gulp, eyes roaming down the expanse of his chest before they land on the necklace dangling by his neck. the ring it holds is 24 carats, gold, with roman numerals of your anniversary date engraved on the inside. it matches with the diamond encrusted promise ring on your finger, gleaming in the shade of his eyes.

you tug the necklace, pulling him until you're nose-to-nose. you shiver at the way his eyes darken even more, his lips quirking into a smirk. "who knew you were so naughty, liebling," he hums, pushing your knees apart to slot himself between your legs. "who taught you, hm?"

"you did," you say before lifting the ring to your lips, kissing it with a small smile. he shudders at the intimacy of the action. "you also taught me not to break my promises, right?"

kaiser raises an eyebrow at the direction you're taking this. he's got you on the bed, flushed, under him. to him, the only promise worth thinking about right now is the promise of intimacy and pleasure.

"i promised to dye your hair, remember?" you lean forward, this time pressing a kiss onto your beloved. "you can do whatever you want to me after we're done."

he groans, letting himself drop on your body. he giggles when you groan at his weight, his face flushing at your words. "whatever i want. that's a promise too, right?" the whisper of his voice against your ear is delightful, and you nod where you're pressed against his shoulder. "i hope you intend to keep that one too, liebling~"

he waits for a moment, savoring your warmth until you start to squirm. laughing, he hovers over you once more to press a kiss on your forehead before scooting over to make room for you to move. "gonna let me use your mask?" he grins widely when you nod, rushing over to the bathroom.

but not before stripping off his night tee and chucking it straight at your head, laughing like a mad man when you throw his beloved stuffed panda at his back in retaliation.

your boyfriend has always been restless. he's never shown much patience, and you should've known that re-dyeing his hair was going to be a hassle. "hold still, mikka." your tone is scolding but not stern, your eyebrows furrowed in concentration to make sure the dye doesn't spill. "i need to make sure you look pretty."

he stops squirming at the nickname, a mischievous smile spreading on his lips as he places a hand on your hip. "you should call me mikka more often, it's cute." he looks up from his position, seated on a chair and facing your front, and wiggles his eyebrows at you. "not only when you want something."

"yeah?" you hum, distracted by the strands of his hair in your hand. you grasp at it with gloves, sectioning to thinner pieces before using a brush to smear the color in. it comes out decently and you grin in satisfaction before moving onto another strand. "glad you like it. it suits you."

kaiser stays unmoving, not even answering back like he's supposed to. concerned with the sudden silence, you look down only to be greeted by a blinding his smile. you quirk an eyebrow, smiling at him in question. "what?"

"you're so cute." he tries to shake his head, stopping when you send him a glare. the hand on your hip squeezes at the fat in affection, his eyes shining even against the brightly lit bathroom. "ich liebe dich, liebling."

"very romantic of you," you say with a roll of your eyes. you store away the bowl of blue hair dye in your hand, leaning down to press a kiss. you feel him hum against your lips, his smile widening from the kiss as he pulls you closer. "i love you too, mikka. even when you won't sit still."

"are you done yet?" he asks with wide eyes, the sight of his puppy eyes looking at you from below sending butterflies to your stomach. "can i look?"

"mhm. go ahead." you step back, making room for him to face the mirror. you watch over his shoulder as he examines his newly re dyed hair, the blue strands at the bottom a contrast to his pale blond. you were getting used to the full head of blond, getting used to having mikka all to yourself. now you've got to share him with the world again as michael kaiser makes his comeback on the field.

"you like it?"

"i love it and i love you."

"maybe we should try another color next time. like purple or pink," you say before giggling at the way his face lights up at the suggestion. you eye him in curiosity when he turns to look at you with a proud grin.

he moves quicker than you expect, grabbing your waist and setting you on the bathroom vanity. he pushes you against the mirror, planting a searing kiss on your lips. you feel him smirk against your lips as his hands move to trail down your waist, settling on your thighs.

"there. a thank you kiss for my little genius," he says, breathless from the exchange, a wicked gleam in his eyes that you're wary of. he leans his forehead against yours, pressing a kiss to your nose. "one 'i'm sorry' kiss too."

"what for-" you're about to question him but a sigh interrupts your words, one that comes from the feeling of wet hair dye trickling down your neck and clothes.

you glare as he presses another kiss in apology. "i'm sorry."

"no, you're not," you snort at the teasing smile on his face. "now i have to go bathe."

he perks up, "want me to join-"

"no."

bonus:

"you really are pretty, mikka." glancing at the mirror from behind him, you watch with fascination as kaiser pushes a hello kitty hairband onto his head. it's yours, one you bought as a pair with his pink panther one. surprisingly, he likes this one more. "the prettiest."

you watch him nod to his own reflection, seemingly agreeing with your words. his newly dried hair bobs along with the motion, the strands fluffy and smooth. you'd run your hands through if you hadn't just spent the last half hour styling it.

"your prettiest-"

"-like a german pomeranian."

"...what?"

"nothing!" you laugh at the disgruntled expression he wears, shaking your head. hoping to appease him before the whining ensues, you hand him a small container filled with matcha facemask. his favorite to wear because it does wonders for his skin.

he looks at the thing as if it's offended his entire lineage. "you're seriously going to bribe me with this?" he pouts, crossing his hands against his chest.

such a big baby. your big baby, though.

"what's wrong? pomeranians are cute!"

"yeah but i'd be more of a husky," he grumbles as he pushes the pink panther hairband onto your head, clearing any hair away from your face. he uses a brush to smear the mask across, stopping every so often to peck your lips. "they're handsome, strong, and expensive."

"high maintenance, too," you mumble under your breath before shrugging. "i just like pomeranians better," you grin, scrunching your nose when he finishes with a kiss on it.

"...fine. german pomeranian it is then."

#blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser imagines #kaiser x reader #kaiser imagines #michael kaiser fluff #michael kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser x you #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock headcanons #kaiser fluff

[adoregojo]

he doesn't realise how lonely he is.

the birds nagging on the early morning was freaking annoying and made him wanted to block the window ten times more. he hated how his breakfast tasted, he added to much salt and now he keeps grimacing at every bite. the usual black stray cat on his doorstep keeps greeting him every morning, and all he could find to reply to it meowing was a frown. sunny days were nothing but a pain, the bright light hitting his face as if it was forcing him to like it. how vexing.

the difference shape of flowers peeking out from the next door store brings him nothing of a sense of joy, if anything he wanted to stay away from it due to it attracting the bugs. his coworkers never talk to him, not like he wants to talk to him. he never looked them in the eyes anyway.

he can clearly hear them, their whispers -that were too loud for him to hear- about him being likely an old grumpy grandpa in disguise, they even made bets on if he would smile one day. it didn't hurt him, he couldn't gave a good fuck for it, he just wanted this day to end so he could go home and never have to see anyone.

he doesn't take his shoes off when he's in the apartment, it was too much of a hassle and he doesn't get any visitors anyway. there's barely any food in his fridge, mostly leftovers. he just eats to survive another day. watching pointless tv shows that never truly entertained him, in fact he found them boring but as long as they kept him busy he didn't care.

winter was too cold, summer was too hot, autumn was stressful, and spring gets him a sick problems all the time.

he truly doesn't know where to enjoy anything in life.

well, until he met you.

all of a sudden, the birds melody doesn't sound so bad, so he opens the window for some fresh air. he stared to put afford in making breakfast, not his usual too slaty eggs it is now a fluffy pancakes with your guidance as you embraced him from behind. they weren't perfect, but the pleased noises you make after every bite made him proud. of course he doesn't forget to feed your cat, the same black cat that he claimed it was nothing but a bad luck.

he didn't realise of how much of a neighbours he had till he started coping how you greeted them, it was nice when they started sending you guys food. especially when you liked them and sometimes they'll send his favourite.

sunny days were welcomed now. especially when the bright light would hit on your skin causing a reflection that's making you a walking glowing star. maybe he liked the sun a bit now.

he made progress on talking back to him coworkers, instead of the silent treatment he actually looked at them knowledge them. he actually started looking at them when they speak to him because you told him it was rude not to. soon he was invited to lunch with them where he would show off his bento box you made for him, he was glad the whispers disappeared. he didn't get how much it bothered him till now.

the owner of the flower shop who was an old lady was now a common person he had to see every week, she remarked he was her most loyal client. he received a tones of advice and recommended flowers as well pinching his cheek as a farewell message. needless to say he always tried coming home -he stopped calling it an apartment- to you without an empty hand, having your favourite pair of flowers was a must now. as well taking off his shoes and putting it directly next to yours, this was it right place.

rethinking it now, winter may be still cold but at least he got the scarf you got for him warped up to his neck, if he buried his nose in the soft fur he could smell your cologne -a reason why it was his favourite one- summer was perfect for you two picnic dates, and every time he could kneel down and thank the sun for making you so blazing and sparkly.

autumn was where you would count the crunchy golden leaves, you sometimes warped yourself around it as if it was snow. it was his favourite memory since it made his heart beating fast. and in the end you were his spring, where his love would bloom for you again and again.

restaurants weren't a waste of money and time now. he has a prefers show and it was the one that made you laugh until the tears formed in your eyes, he honestly doesn't find them as funny but it makes you smile so he didn't care.

life stopped being meaningless afterwards, and he could finally say that he enjoyed living as long as it was beside you.

nagi, rin, sae, toji, choso, ushijima, kenma, diluc. kei, sakusa. you favs!

#nagi x reader #rin x reader #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x you #rin itoshi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #ushijima x reader #kenma x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #kei tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader #blue lock x reader #genshin x reader #jjk x reader #sakusa x reader

[moralesmilesanhour]

piece of cake

summary: meeting miles g at a bakery, and other happenings. wc: 3k+ warning: blood, grief (more at the periphery, not a major theme), and lightly implied mommy issues a/n: ngl i was hungry asf when i wrote this. why can't i ever write normal fluff fics anymore. first fic of 2024!!

Brooklyn Middle is closed for winter break. The basketball court where the snow-covered hoop no longer has a net is empty, save for the blinking Christmas lights strung across the chain-link fence.

In a few years, the pizza place across the street where students would linger after school will be demolished, replaced by a shiny new Oscorp building that reflects the sun from all angles of its glass exterior. But for now, the place is just closed early for the holidays, a few blocks away from a bakery.

The tall, bear-like frame of a father dressed in a long black overcoat can be seen entering with a wiry young boy in a red hoodie and bomber jacket tailing close behind. He has an afro as opposed to his father’s closely-cropped hair. The boy keeps trying to straighten his posture - as if his spine would suddenly lengthen and his shoulders would broaden from the act alone. He wants to make himself look important today, because he is on a top-secret mission: 

Operation: Get Mom a Cake.

“I think mom’ll like that one.”

The boy points at a slice of tres leches cake sitting behind a glass display. It’s not as flashy as the other decorative cakes drizzled with chocolate and strawberries or encased in pink frosting, but those wouldn’t melt on the tongue the way tres leches did. 

His father raised an eyebrow at the plain slice, but the boy looked at him with a certainty that he’d never seen before, through eyes nearly identical to his mother’s. The man knew then that he was getting an expert opinion.

“Alright, if you say so,” he chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “We’ll take that one, Val.”

The boy smiled proudly at the older woman as she handed him the pink box containing the cake. Mission accomplished.

Now, he looks up and frowns at the Oscorp building blocking the view of where his old school used to be as he picks at a slice of cake with a plastic fork.

The ‘Employees Only’ door behind the counter swings open, and Valeria Cruz hobbles out, removing her apron.

“It’s almost your shift, Miles, hurry up and finish that cake.”

Miles takes one more bite before rising from his seat near the entrance and pushing the paper plate and half-eaten slice into a small trash can.

“You got it, Miss V.”

“Did you take out the trash?”

He pauses, and his eyes widen.

“I’mma get that done right now, Miss V!”

The woman sighs, running a hand through gray and white-streaked curls as the teen sprints out the door and back outside.

A forest green puffer jacket rushes past you on the sidewalk. It’s the same one you had seen shuffling out of the back entrance of Val’s bakery the other morning, lugging two black garbage bags with a purple hoodie obscuring the stranger’s face. 

He probably works there, then, you think. Good. She could use the help.

The place had been packed the week before Officer Morales’ funeral, and for several weeks after. But over time, business began to slow down to a trickle. Hipster cafés and towering condos sprang up and choked out the little pizza shops and restaurants that took their owners’ last names, like when an invasive species of plant grows taller than the local varieties and smothers them, blocking out the sun.

You had been seeing Val’s face since you were in diapers. Families used to go there for birthdays, for elementary school graduations, middle school graduations - or sometimes just to grab something sweet to eat after church on Sundays. You continued the tradition–even if just to buy a tiny bag of cookies–in the hopes that the place might still be standing for your high school graduation. 

The bell above the door rings to signal your entrance. The once baby pink wallpaper has begun to fade, but the late-afternoon sun makes it feel as vibrant as it did when you were twelve. Valeria is standing in front of the display of freshly-baked pastries with her apron folded neatly over her arm.

“Oh, were you about to close up shop?” You begin to take backward steps. “I can come back later–”

“No, no, sweetie, it’s fine!” The woman waves her hand, beckoning you to stay. “I was just about to go on my lunch break. I have someone about to take over for me.”

“It’s cool, I can wait. I saw somebody taking out the trash, that him?”

She sighs wearily, “That’s him, alright. He’s a good kid, but he’s always–”

“Sorry I’m late!”

In rushes Mr. Green Jacket through a chilly gust of wind, who turns to nod in greeting towards you before weaving past Val and behind the counter, where he disappears through the ‘Employees Only’ door.

“That boy, I swear. Never on time!”

He reappears sans the jacket, wearing a white apron identical to the one Val is holding. The name tag on it reads ‘Miles’. 

Miles. Where have you heard that name before…?

The hood on his sweater is no longer pulled over his head, revealing two neat cornrows that cascade all the way down his neck. The surrounding hair has been shaved and faded at the nape of his neck and hairline. He’s the sort of brown-skinned that looks golden when the sunlight hits his face as he approaches the cash register. 

“You gonna be alright for the next half hour?” asked Val with an eyebrow raised.

Miles drummed his fingers on the counter and grinned. “Yup, I got it.”

“Don’t destroy anything while I’m gone!”

“I won’t, promise.”

She pushes the door open with a skeptical look and leaves.

With this new stranger temporarily in charge, you carefully approach the counter. He looks up at you with curious brown eyes.

“Whatchu want?”

“Um…” you blink before remembering what you were here for. “Just sugar cookies, please.”

“How many?”

“Five.”

He turns to grab a paper bag, then bends to drop the desired amount of cookies into it with the pair of tongs that sit on the inside of the display.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what school you go to? I haven’t seen you around here before, feel like I’d remember you if I had.”

Miles pops his head over the counter and tilts his head with a cheeky grin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You avoid eye contact, shifting from one foot to the other. Suddenly it’s not so cold anymore.

“I-I don’t know. You just seem memorable.”

He laughs a raspy, breathy laugh and hands you the bag of cookies over the counter. His hand is much larger than yours with slender fingers at the end of it, but still manages to appear almost clumsy-looking. Big enough to be a man’s, but with only half the dexterity.

“I go to Visions.”

“Fancy. You like it over there?”

“It’s aight. Kinda uptight, but my dad always said it was a ‘good opportunity’, so I stayed.”

You hum in consideration. 

“Can't do everything for your parents, though. They'll have you living their dreams before you know it.”

The smile fades a bit, and Miles averts his gaze.

“Well my dad passed, so I just figured I’d just do this one thing for him.”

You cover your mouth with your palm.

“I'm so sorry, I–”

“It's fine,” he snorts without any humor. “You might be the only one that doesn't know who my daddy is. Kind of a relief.”

Miles encloses the money you just gave him in the slot beneath the cash register with a loud snap. 

“You need anything else?”

You chew on your bottom lip in embarrassment and clutch your bag of cookies.

“No. Thank you.”

He doesn’t look up from the register.

“Have a nice day.”

Your mother is leaning on the window sill, nibbling on a granola bar when you get back home. She’s silent, which means she is observing. You’ll need to tread carefully. 

“I brought cookies.”

She gives you a sidelong glance.

“Val’s cookies?”

“Yup, same as always.”

“That lady still working there all by herself?”

“She hired somebody to help out, actually - I saw a boy working the register.”

She notices the upward inflection in your voice at the mention of a boy, which interests her more than the cookies.

“What’s he look like?”

“He’s got, um,” you make a gesture over your head. “Twin braids–cornrows–and a green jacket? Kinda tall, too.”

Your mother nods, thoughtful. The description rings a bell, but she needs to confirm.

“You catch his name?”

“Miles, I think.”

“Lord,” she gasps, fully turning to face you. “That’s that Morales boy! I used to work with his momma, bless her heart. Barely saw his face after the funeral.”

The image of Miles’ face at the mention of his dad makes you cringe at your comment earlier. How could you not recognize him? He practically stole his face from the mural that was plastered above the precinct. You had only heard the boy’s name uttered once by your mother over the phone at 2:00 A.M., whispered like a secret.

“I can’t imagine how it must be for Miles. Didn’t he just get into that nice school down there? Of course they’ll have to let him go home. He should be with his mother.”

“He was such a sweet little boy. Then I saw him the other day?” 

She shook her head, “Look like a different person. He had them flashy studs in his ears, nose pierced and everything.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he had tattoos under that coat as well. Damn shame.”

“He seemed nice when I saw him,” you remark quietly in a weak attempt to defend his character, despite having known him for all of five minutes. “Sweet, like you said.”

Your mother’s face hardens, all of her attention now focused on you as she folds the wrapping of the granola bar.

“That’s why you’re not bringing no boys home ‘till you’re eighteen,” she sharply reminds you. “‘Seems nice’ - How you know if he’s really nice or not?”

Again, Miles’ face appears in your mind’s eye. He didn’t seem to want your pity - rejected it, even. And what of his apparent chronic lateness? 

Still…

“You don’t know that, either,” you say despite yourself. “I spoke to him while I was there.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow. 

“Girl, I know that look. I better not see you runnin’ around with that boy, understand me?”

She looks set on not changing her mind now, so you only nod in defeat.

“Yes, ma’am.”

In your head, you’re already making plans to hit up the bakery tomorrow - both to apologize and to see the sun kissing Miles’ face again. Maybe tomorrow he’d even have the piercings in.

But when you get there the next day under the guise of ‘a trip to the corner store’, Miles isn’t at the register. 

The sky has turned a pale shade of gray, and it has begun to drizzle. Pulling your navy blue coat tightly around you, you consider turning back around when–

Boom!

The sound of something hitting a trash can from behind the establishment catches your attention. It could be him taking out the trash at the last minute again.

Your assumption is proven only halfway correct.

Stepping over discarded boxes and tin cans, you find Miles doubled over, clutching his side. “Are you okay?” 

Startled, bloodshot eyes glance at you before focusing on the ground.

“Fucking fantastic,” he grunts painfully.

As you get closer, you can see a dark stain blooming from where his hand is. A sick feeling swirls in your stomach.

“Oh my God, do you need me to call somebody?”

“Nah, I’m…I’m straight,” Miles says through labored breaths. “I just gotta…patch myself up before I get home.”

You whip out your phone and frantically unlock it.

“I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Hell no–”

“You are bleeding!”

He tilts his head towards a duffle bag lying near his feet. 

“I got First Aid in there…that’ll do me just fine.”

When he tries to reach for the bag, his knees give out, causing him to collapse right next to it.

-

Miles shivers as you gingerly wrap white bandages around his waist, the flat expanse of skin on his stomach partially exposed to the elements. He fades in and out of consciousness, between your face and black nothingness. When he’s awake, he stares up at you in disbelief.

“I didn’t call 9-1-1, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you tell him with a grin. “This should stop the bleeding, but I can’t help you beyond that.”

“Wusyaname?” he mumbles, head lolling towards you. He’s on the brink of passing out again.

“Call me (Y/N).”

“Wasn’t gon’ call you anything else.”

“Shut up, I just saved your life.”

“Mmmm-hm,” Miles hums with a lazy smile that makes you wonder if he’s becoming delirious.

“Eeeeverybody loves sayin’ that. Everybody always…”

His eyelids get heavy before he can finish the thought, and he finally blacks out again in your lap. 

-

There’s a short line inside the bakery that weekend, and you wonder if Miles has anything to do with it. 

Word seemed to get around mysteriously fast that the former teenaged recluse had come out of hiding after that conversation (if you could even call it that) with your mother. From where you’re sitting–by the window, nibbling on a sugar cookie, observing–Miles does not seem to enjoy the attention.

Or maybe you’re just imagining the strained smile on his face as the line of customers becomes a Greek chorus of gasps and squeals.

“You got so big!”

“What did you do to your hair?”

“Oh, you look just like Jeff.”

“How’s Rio?”

“Good to see you out and about again.”

The sparkling curiosity is nearly drained from his face by the time he joins you at the end of his shift with a slice of cake. He does not have the fabled nose piercing in, but two diamond studs sparkle when the light hits them every time he moves his head.

“So?”

“So…?”

“Are you alright after I found you the other day? I saw you limping back there.”

Miles rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine. My mom’s literally a nurse. She got me straight.”

“What’d you tell her? Looked like you broke a rib.”

“Far as she’s concerned, I fell off my bike.”

“I’ve never seen you on a bike.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”

You shrug. Touche.

“What did you have to say to me that was worth stalking me after my shift?”

“Stalking?”

“You buy the same thing every time, you think I ain’t notice?” Miles smirks, like a detective who’s just gotten a confession. “Who goes to a bakery and only gets cookies?”

“Lay off me, man, these are excellent,” you take another bite for emphasis. “Anyways, I actually came to apologize.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “For what?”

“For what I said the first time I saw you. I didn’t know you were that Miles.”

The corners of Miles’ lips pull downwards into a frown. 

“That’s it?”

“Mm, well…”

You bite your lip by force of habit.

“I also wanted to talk to you again. Under better circumstances. That your favorite type of cake?”

Miles looks down at his plate when you point to it with your fork, as if he’s seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah, tres leches. What about it?”

“I dunno, I just always see you eating that and nothing else. Is there a reason?”

You expect to say something about the sweetness, or the texture, but instead he answers:

“It always tastes the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like…” He puts down his fork and starts to construct an analogy in his head.

“It’s like when you see an ice cream truck. You run up to it before it drives off, and what do you ask for? First thing that pops into your head?”

“Vanilla?”

“Exactly. You could try one of the other ones, but what if it tastes like ass? Now you stuck eating something you don’t like–”

“And it’s a waste of money.”

“Exactly!” Miles laughs. “You get it. My mom makes fun of me because I’ve been eating the same thing since I was five. But it’s always good! And the same amount of good.”

“Can’t argue with that.” 

You tap your nails on the table, thinking. 

“But what if you find a new flavor that you really like?”

He shrugs, “Then lucky me, I guess. But that doesn’t tend to happen.”

“It could happen, though.”

He watches the strange way you eat. Slowly, teeth-first, as if you’re afraid to make a mess. It’s weirdly dainty, which makes him chuckle beneath his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh-uh, don’t do that. What’s so funny?”

Miles gives you that same head tilt again.

“It’s cute, the way you eat.”

Your hand freezes just as it’s about to lift another cookie to your mouth, and you stare at him blankly.

“That’s…”

He pauses too. 

“...Weird, yeah. Sorry. I dunno why I said that.”

A beat of silence passes that’s so heavy with awkwardness, that the two of you can’t help but burst into poorly-stifled laughter.

You lean forward with your chin resting in your hand. “That’s fine. I kept coming here just to spy on you, so I guess I’m weird, too.”

“Ah, so you admit it!”

“Hey, if I wasn’t bein’ a total creep, you might’ve bled out next to the garbage dump. Val can’t lose a valuable employee, right?”

“If you put it that way.”

You can see the white of some of Miles’ teeth peeking out as he smiles. One of his canines is charmingly crooked, and sharper than the others. When the smile fades, he suddenly looks uncertain.

“Can I ask you a question this time?” 

“Ask away.”

“Do you wanna make this,” he gestures between you, “like, a regular thing? Y’know, ‘meeting under better circumstances’.”

It’s your turn for a smile to spread across your face. 

“We should. Whatever you did to end up bleeding out in the rain, I guess I’d be a witness now.”

“M-hm. Can’t have you yappin’ about that to my customers,” He plays along, then winks. “I’mma need your number too, just in case.”

Just before you reach for your phone in your pocket, you hear your mother’s voice in your head, casting a shadow over the whole thing and giving you pause.

All jokes aside, Miles had never explained what had landed him in that predicament behind the bakery in the first place. He’s always late. He lies to his mother. You’re about to lie to your mother. 

But the sun is hitting his face again, and with the light bouncing off of his pupils, he looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly. The shadow remains at the corner of your eye. Just the corner.

You grin and hand him your phone.

“You got it. Just in case.”

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #prowler!miles #moralesanhour

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships - Epilogue

Summary: A glimpse into the rest of your life with Wanda Maximoff.

Word count: 2.3k+ | Warnings: None; Just Fluff | Ship: Wanda x Reader

Author's note: We officially come to a close! I'd like to take this opportunity to thank each and everyone of you who read, liked, commented, and reblogged this story. This is my first time completing a multi-chapter fic and I couldn't have done it without you. You guys will always have a special place in my heart. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I'll keep writing--my request box is open :)

Series Masterlist

-

Epilogue

Ten Months Later

Montauk, especially in winter, looks as if it's straight out of a postcard. 

For as long as you can remember, Montauk is the only place that's felt like home. And you've shared it with the woman who's known you even before you took your first breath in this world. But now, there are days when she doesn't recognize you, days when she cries out in fear thinking you're an intruder, when she tearfully calls for her own mother or searches anxiously for her late husband.

The merciless grip of Alzheimer's is steadily robbing her from you, and time seems to draw out the process in a cruel, agonizing manner.

Wanda is there for you though, through every difficult moment. She is your rock when you feel like crumbling, your light in the darkest moments. You are both staying in Montauk for some time now, taking care of your mother. Your mother sometimes recognizes her, and she’s remarkably warmer to your ex-wife more than you can remember. You think, perhaps, it has something to do with her memories that are slowly wilting away, and all that is left is the love she’s always held back for the other woman in your life.

One evening, as snowflakes start to gently fall from the sky, Wanda gets the sudden urge to take a walk. After some persuasion, you find yourself pulled out from the inviting warmth of the bed you've been sharing, grumbling while putting your layers of clothing back on to indulge Wanda in her whimsical idea.

Hand-in-hand, you set off just as the sun begins its descent, painting the horizon with streaks of indigo and pink. Snowflakes settle on Wanda's hair, turning her fiery locks into a winter wonderland. She smiles, her green eyes sparkling with the reflection of the dimming twilight. 

You soak in the sight of her, the love of your life, aglow in the beauty of the snowy evening, committing it to memory. 

An old park lies ahead, its swings and benches blanketed by the fresh snowfall. Wanda leads you to the swing set, her laughter carrying through the chilly air as she plops down on one of them. You take the swing beside her, the frosty metal biting through your clothing, but you don’t mind. The sight of Wanda, her face flushed with cold yet bright with joy, is worth braving the winter chill.

As the swing set gently comes to a halt, Wanda nudges you, pointing towards a row of trees in the distance. “Look over there,” she says, “Do you see that?”

You squint at the snow-laden branches, trying to decipher what she's referring to. While you're absorbed in your futile search, Wanda quietly slips off the swing, her heart pounding in her chest. She swallows hard, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. As you turn back to her with a puzzled look, ready to ask what you were supposed to see, you find her on her knees in the fresh snow, looking up at you with an earnest gaze.

She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small, velvet box. With a quick flick of her wrist, she pops it open to reveal a simple yet stunning ring nestled within. 

“Will you marry me?”

Your heart stutters at the sight of Wanda's hopeful gaze. For a moment, everything seems to stand still. Snowflakes suspend their descent, the air holds its breath. With a lump in your throat, you utter a word you never thought you'd say in this moment. 

“No.”

Shock registers on Wanda's face, her eyes wide and vulnerable. The world seems to crash around her, the word echoing ominously in her ears. But then, before she has a chance to fully comprehend what's happening, you're sinking to your knees in the snow beside her.

“Because,” you begin, laughter choking your words even as tears track down your cheeks. You fumble in your pocket, pulling out your own small box. You pry it open, revealing a gleaming ring nestled within. “Because I want you to marry me.”

The world, previously paused, starts up again in a rush of sound and color.

Laughter bubbles up from within you, filling the silence, mingling with the tears streaming down your face. Wanda stares at you, stunned into silence, her tears mirroring your own.

“Yes,” she breathes out finally, her voice choked with emotion. “Yes, yes, yes.”

In the stillness that follows, you gently take her hand, slipping the ring onto her trembling finger. 

You look up at her, your heart in your eyes. “Yes, Wanda, I'll marry you,” you whisper.

Wanda's fingers are ice-cold, trembling with adrenaline, when she reaches for your hand, your ring. Her focus is so intense as she slips it onto your finger that it feels as if everything else has fallen away.

Without wasting a moment, Wanda lurches forward, lips finding yours in a kiss, full of passion and relief. The chill of the snow around you seems to dissipate as your mouths move in a rhythm perfected by time and familiarity. Every small shift, every pressure, the way she tugs at your lower lip, the way you reciprocate by pulling her closer by the waist, it all stokes a warmth that radiates from your core, spreading outwards, rendering the winter air irrelevant.

The soft moan that escapes Wanda against your lips fills you with a satisfaction, an overwhelming sense of rightness that even the best of days prior to this moment had not quite achieved.

Like all beautiful things, the kiss comes to an end. She pulls away, her breath ghosting over your lips as she whispers, “Yes,” echoing your sentiment. “Yes, you will.”

Year 2

A year later, the smell of antiseptic and the sterile white walls of a hospital room are your surroundings. You lay exhausted on the hospital bed, swaddled in a light hospital gown, holding the newest addition to your family. 

A baby girl. 

Yours and Wanda’s. 

She is swathed in soft pink blankets, her tiny face peering curiously at the world she's just entered.

Overwhelmed, overjoyed, and slightly terrified, Wanda is darting around the room, fretting over everything and anything. Her brows are furrowed as she questions the nurses on the baby’s feeding, changing, swaddling. She's always been meticulous, but her anxiety seems to be on a whole new level today.

Meanwhile, she's constantly checking up on you too. A wet cloth to dab your sweaty forehead, a soft kiss to reassure you, a gentle squeeze of your hand. Each time she asks if you're okay, if you need anything, if you're feeling too tired or too overwhelmed.

Her voice is a touch higher than usual, her movements slightly rushed. It's all too adorable, you think. The endearing sight of Wanda fussing over you and the baby brings a soft smile to your tired face.

Wanda’s gaze alternates between you and the tiny bundle in your arms, as if she’s afraid that this is all some dream that she would wake from.

“You're doing great, love,” you reassure her in a voice hoarse with exhaustion, but filled with so much love and admiration for this woman. Your woman. You wouldn’t trade her frantic behavior for anything else.

“Do you want to hold her?” you ask Wanda, lifting the baby slightly from your chest.

Wanda freezes at your question, her eyes flickering from the tiny face peeking out from the swaddles and back to you. She seems to be calculating the risk of her holding something so precious and delicate. She bites her lip nervously, her hand absently wringing together.

“I'm... I'm afraid I might hurt her. She's so small,” Wanda murmurs, almost too softly to hear.

A soft laugh bubbles up from you, finding her concern endearing. With your free hand, you tenderly take hers, squeezing reassuringly.

“Wands, love, she's our daughter. She already knows you and she wants her mom. Come on,” you encourage her, your voice soft but confident.

With a deep breath, Wanda nods. She gingerly slips onto the bed beside you, her arm tentatively reaching out. Her hand hovers over the baby's tiny form, her fingers trembling slightly.

Seeing her hesitate, you gently place the baby into Wanda's waiting arms. The moment your daughter is cradled in her arms, Wanda's eyes fill with unshed tears. Her gaze is locked on the little face looking up at her.

She's silent for a moment, just looking down at the tiny, squirming bundle in her arms. You watch as she traces her finger lightly over your daughter's chubby cheek, her touch feather-light as though she's handling a priceless piece of art.

“She's... She's beautiful,” Wanda finally whispers, her voice choked with emotion. You watch as a single tear escapes, trailing down her cheek.

“She has your eyes,” you say softly, leaning against Wanda's shoulder.

Her response is a watery laugh, and she turns to press a kiss on your forehead. “And your nose,” she retorts, a teasing lilt to her voice. “I didn’t know it was possible to be even more in love with you,” she adds, looking into your heavy-lidded eyes.

As you look at Wanda holding your daughter, overwhelmed with love and emotion, you think that there can't be anything equally perfect as this moment. 

Year 4

Something equally as perfect comes two years later.

You and Wanda return to your new apartment in Manhattan, this time with a little more noise, a lot more love, and two new family members in tow. 

The eighteen arduous hours of Wanda's labor are still fresh in your mind. The anxiety and fear you felt, the helplessness, as you watched her endure the pain, fighting for every breath, are experiences you would never forget. For a moment, you feared for her life, but Wanda, as always, proved to be a force of nature. She battled through, delivering the twins normally. Your two-year-old daughter has just been promoted to big sister status, with the arrival of her twin brothers, William and Thomas.

Wanda, holding Billy, looks at you over the top of his little head. Her eyes are bright, tired but excited. You carry Tommy, his tiny hand gripping your finger, and his weight in your arms feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Despite being outnumbered by your kids, you and Wanda are no novices now. With one child already, you've learned the ropes of parenthood, even if juggling the needs of three young children is still quite the adventure. 

Looking back, you can't help but wonder. If things had been smoother, easier, would you still end up here? 

Sure, life has thrown you a few curveballs. But those curveballs brought you to this moment, to this feeling of complete and utter happiness. 

You wouldn't change a thing.

Because this is it. This is your perfect. This is the beautiful chaos of a big family you and Wanda have created together. And you wouldn't trade it for the world. 

This moment is everything you ever wanted.

Year 35

You both retire to a charming little town on the east coast, away from the relentless hum of city life. The house is a modest one, its size perfect for two people entering the golden years of their life.

It's a quiet evening when you find yourself sitting in the bathtub, the warm water soothing against your aging muscles. The bathroom door creaks open and in walks Wanda, unadorned and as beautiful as the day you met her. You watch as she undresses, each wrinkle and mark a testament to the years you've spent together. The sight of her, the raw display of strength, beauty, and age, leaves you breathless.

She eases herself into the tub, the water rising as she settles across from you. Your legs brush against each other, a touch that still sends warmth spreading through your veins. Her eyes, the same captivating pair you lost yourself in more than four decades ago, meet yours and your heart does a familiar dance.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a teasing smile. “You have that look again.”

“What look?” you feign innocence, though a mischievous glint gives you away.

“That look as if you're seeing a young woman, and not the one who's been trying to get a senior discount for the past few years,” she quips.

You chuckle, leaning closer, the water ripples between you two as you do. “Honestly, after all this time,” you whisper, fingers tracing the back of her hand submerged in the water, “I can't help myself.”

She playfully rolls her eyes, her cheeks tinted with a hint of a blush that reminds you of her younger self. “Ever the charmer,” she murmurs, her voice betraying the flutter of excitement she still feels from your compliments, even after all these years.

“You may have a few more lines here and there,” you whisper, your eyes taking in every beautiful detail of her face, “But to me, you're as breathtaking as the day we met. Time can't change the way I see you, Wanda.”

With deliberate slowness, you lean in, pressing a delicate kiss to her lips. As you pull back, you see the warmth in her eyes, the soft smile playing on her lips, and you feel an old, familiar urge.

Your next kiss is deeper, more insistent, and your hand finds its way to her waist, pressing her closer. Her laughter bubbles up, breaking the kiss momentarily as she playfully swats your wandering hand away.

“You really still find this,” she gestures to herself, “Desirable?”

You lean back slightly, taking in her form with a deliberate, exaggerated slowness, your gaze wandering from her face to her feet and back up again. “Every inch.”

She gives you a mock exasperated look, but the smile that's trying to break through belies her true feelings. “You and your words,” she mutters, pulling you closer by the nape of your neck, her fingers tangling in your damp hair. “Do they ever run out?”

“Not when it comes to you,” you reply earnestly, your lips hovering just above hers. “Never when it comes to you.”

Making love isn't as easy as it once was, with bodies grown old and not as supple. 

But your love for Wanda—if anything, is stuck in time.

Taglist: @canvascoloredin | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife| @justagurlwholikes | @lizziesplant | @cowxpoke | @sokovianbaby| @swiftie1-0-1 | @scarlettbitchx | @tercerspirit-22 | @hyper-fixated-delusions

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction

[primoredial-jade]

to you, 500 years from now.

" i wonder if you remember me as i was. sometimes, i think of those days. do you? " —dishonored

prompt: he wishes to see you again one day, in a world that is kinder for a soul as beautiful as yours.

pairing: neuvillette x gn!reader

cw: reincarnation alternate universe, heavy themes and depictions of death, neuvillette story quest spoilers, fontaine archon quest spoilers, a light-hearted scene sprinkled in, reader is an oceanid in their past life, reader is a geoscientist in their current life

as a part of @seraphiism's 2023 writing event 🤍 merry christmas!

500 years ago.

seldom did visitors grace the presence of the hydro dragon.

adorned with shimmering scales that reflected the hues of the deepest ocean, piercing violet eyes that sparkled like the shiniest amethysts, and hailed as one of the strongest sovereigns of the world– his reputation preceded him. thus, the hydro dragon chose to live in seclusion in the salacia plains.

time worked differently for a being such as him. in a momentary lapse, the hydro dragon had shut his eyes for what he thought was a brief respite, only to be roused by the gentle murmur of bubbling water. as his eyes fluttered open, he remained unaware that several years had slipped away during his tranquil slumber.

with seemingly no fear at being in the presence of the hydro dragon, a beautiful oceanid floated before him, blowing bubbles in his direction. twirling around him, the oceanid radiated a warmth that the hydro dragon could not resist. drawn by the mesmerizing glow of his scales, the oceanid came closer.

the hydro dragon sat up in his full form, extending his wings and towering over the oceanid, gauging its reaction. he knew he was terrifying like this. the oceanid did not flee in fear, rather, gazed up at him in amazement and wonder.

"what is your name?" the hydro dragon asks.

you offer it to him, easily.

days turned into nights into years as the hydro dragon finally had someone to call his companion. you followed him everywhere he went, offering him countless condessence crystals on your trips, "because it resembles your eyes."

with time, the hydro dragon had discovered a love that transcended ordinary within you.

fate, as cruel as it could be, had other plans. the heavenly principles had descended to wage war against the seven sovereigns. the hydro dragon urged you to stay away, to not get involved. yet, you refused, promising that you would never leave his side.

the heavenly principles, having sensed the unconventional bond between the hydro dragon and his oceanid, instantly killed you before the hydro dragon could even think to intervene. dying in his hands, you apologized.

"hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry," you murmur, placing one last condessence crystal in his palm.

filled with agony and rage, the hydro dragon unleashed his elemental fury upon the heavenly principles.

still, it wasn't enough. he couldn't save you, he couldn't avenge you, and now, he was to also perish by the hands of fate.

as he lay dying with the condessence crystal in his hand, he wishes to see you again one day. in a world that is kinder, and more forgiving for a soul as beautiful as yours.

500 years later.

the stars are keeping you up tonight.

ever since furina had given up her position as the hydro archon and the prophecy was deemed to be untrue, you had felt a shift within yourself that you could not really explain. when you had been enveloped by the water of the primordial sea, you had felt... at home. tranquil, even.

fontaine's winter festivities were in full swing, and the city's lights twinkle slow as children zip past you through the streets. red and green decorations are adorned on every wall and lamp post. you raise a hand to catch a delicate snowflake– rarely did snow ever reach fontaine, but it was a welcomed change for the season.

you shiver, pulling your coat closer to your neck. it was probably reckless to be out this late when the night was this chilly, but you just couldn't shake the feeling of having to be out here. something was pulling you here, but you didn't know what.

"good evening," a voice calls your name and you startle, hand over your heart. you turn to meet piercing violet eyes and an easygoing smile, one that you meet sheepishly.

"good evening, monsieur neuvillette," you answer, inadvertently straightening your posture.

"i thought it was you i saw..." neuvillette trails off, clearing his throat. he gestures up to the palais mermonia, quite a ways away. you tilt your head in bewilderment.

"you could see me from there?"

"well, not at first," he answers, lightly tapping his cane on the floor. "you could say it was instinct, perhaps. i cannot find the words to really explain it, but it had to be you."

you would be lying if you said that one of the reasons as to why you had felt so on edge since the flooding didn't have anything to do with neuvillette.

as a geoscientist investigator for the marechaussee phantom, most of your interactions in the past had been strictly professional in solving cases and exonerating or indicting those on stand. after the failed prophecy, neuvillette had begun to seek you out for casual conversation. of course, you welcomed it. you were easily drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

something about the way he had interacted with you since then with a longing gaze in his eyes had you feeling as if he knew something that you didn't.

it did not do any favors to your heart. he was a gorgeous man with a kind and respectful personality to boot.

you shouldn't get this excited about him finding you, but your blood thumping in your ears betrays you.

"ah- i see... it's funny you say that, because, well- likewise," you manage to say, flustered and feeling the urge to bolt on the spot.

neuvillette smiles at you, nodding toward the brightly lit street. "would you take a walk with me?"

speechless, you nod. what would fontaine think seeing you strolling around town with neuvillette this late at night, shoulders so close?

"there are a few stands around with festive goods and the likes. there's actually a..." you pause, a sudden memory making you laugh, "a water taste-testing booth made by your fanclub. would you want to check it out?"

neuvillette's eyebrows raise in amusement. "it would be my pleasure. i had not even been aware i harbored a fanclub."

you absentmindedly lean closer to his side, "well, you are quite popular among fontainians, monsieur neuvillette. many of them admire you for everything you have done for fontaine."

"and what about you?" his eyes meet yours expectantly.

you're caught off guard by his teasing. ears burning, you focus your attention on the path. "well, of course, i do too," you mumble. you can't see it, but he smiles.

a brightly lit booth in blue finally comes into view. its banner reads, "water around the world!" with a small, cute drawing of neuvillette's face in the corner.

"surely that's breaking a law in copyright infringement?" you joke.

"the oratrice would surely find them guilty," he nods, and you cannot suppress your laugh.

"hello, and welcome to- monsieur neuvillette?!" the teenager running the stand jumps out of her seat at the sight. she sputters, waving her hands around frantically. "it- it's so nice to see you, monsieur! are you interested in trying out some of the water we've collected?" her outburst spawns members of neuvillette's fanclub whispering excitedly behind her, to your amusement.

"i would be delighted to, along with my companion, if you would be so kind." he gestures to you, and it is only now that the fanclub seems to notice you. a few of them audibly gasp, and you already feel the dread of having your name front and center on the steambird come tomorrow morning. "monsieur neuvillette and the esteemed geoscientist: on a late-night excursion?"

they're quick to place multiple cups of water in front of you. respectively labeled cider lake, samudra coast, dadaupa gorge, sal terrae, and the suigetsu pool. neuvillette takes the one from cider lake, swirling it, and taking a leisurely sip not unlike wine. he hums, encouraging you to take your sip as well.

as you go down the line, truthfully you cannot tell much difference between them all. but, your heart warms seeing neuvillette take this very seriously, to the delight of his fanclub.

"did you like them?" you ask as you both depart from the booth, truly curious.

neuvillette nods, a smile on his face. "they all tasted quite fresh."

you cannot repress your own grin at his honesty. "i'm glad, monsieur neuvillette."

as the snow gets heavier and the night turns darker, booths begin to shut their lights down with people scurrying back to their abodes. you get the occasional double take at being with the chief justice, of course.

you watch neuvillette as he slows to a stop to stare up into the sky. delicate snowflakes fall into his long hair and eyelashes, and yet he seems completely unbothered by the cold. he's beautiful.

you heart suddenly aches in a way that feels like the breath has totally escaped you. the feeling is so unknown that you wonder if this moment is even real at all.

you'd had nightmares about it that you didn't dare tell a soul, of how you had died once. it was impossible- unfathomable.

but if it was, then how could you vividly remember in your last moments the feeling of being held by warm, protective hands?

neuvillette is already looking at you when you come to, like he knows.

"maybe we should call it a night." your voice is thinned.

neuvillette takes a step closer. "may i?"

you can only nod, breath hitching. he's standing closer than how he usually allows himself to be. you move, but one of his hands lift to gently cup your cheeks.

instantly, tears begin to well up in your eyes. his touch feels so familiar. "i'm sorry," you whisper.

with his free hand, neuvillette unclips the brooch at his neck and places it in your hand. seeing it up this close, your eyes widen.

"this is a condessence crystal."

neuvillette's eyes meet your own. he closes both of your hands around the crystal, and you see white.

"what is your name?"

"it resembles your eyes."

"i love you."

"i won't ever leave your side."

"don't leave me by myself."

"hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry."

your knees suddenly grow weak, but neuvillette is quick to catch you.

your mind is running at a thousand miles a minute, swirling with questions that repeat themselves in your head, what is wrong with you, what is wrong with him, what is wrong with fate.

"so it is real," he finally says, eyes so solemn yet relieved. his words, resolute and cutting, make you still.

"i– what is?"

"us."

you didn't realize that you needed to hear it from him to finally understand. his eyes are darting across your face, trying to get a read on your expression.

"ever since i was given my authority back on the day of the prophecy, i remembered everything of our past life together, traversing across the seas of the teyvat," he explains, thumbing a stray tear that escaped your eye.

“for a long time, i wondered why i had this when i was reborn into this form,” he squeezes your hand with the condessence crystal, “and then it all made sense.”

"i remember now too," you say, "neuvillette, i remember."

this world is much kinder for a soul that is as beautiful as yours.

"would you give it a chance?" he asks.

"why, neuvillette?"

"because i know," his beautiful eyes don't falter from your own. "i know of the one life i spent where i lost you."

the chill that runs up your spine is not from the cold.

"and now, i have finally found you again."

you don't know who moves first, but his lips are on yours in the next breath you take. you are anguished, confused, happy, at peace.

even in the snow and the pretty lights, all you can see is him.

#neuvillette x reader #reincarnation au #neuvillette reincarnation #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #fontaine story spoilers #fontaine spoilers #oceanid reader #past life au #neuvillette #seraphiism’23 #neuvillette | primoredial-jade

[hungwy]

We missed the last train of the night due to the snow. It was the first snow Tokyo had in a while, apparently. None of us seemed dressed for that kind of wet cold. No gloves, just jackets, hats. We were worried for a little bit about how we would get back to the dorms. We waited a long time for a taxi. A long time. The snow had built up on everything in thick layers. I was used to snow but could not ignore how the cold penetrated my pocketed hands to the bone. We stood outside some building, I cannot remember now what it was, but freezing puddles formed around our shoes, kept liquid by some unseen heat source. The puddles reflected all the reds and blues and golds of the city lights. It was quiet for a city. I was tired.

A taxi finally arrived after a while. Just long enough to make its arrival a celebratory affair. We hurried inside it. I sat in the back, on the left, behind the passenger seat. My friends took the front seat and the seat next to me. Someone showed the driver the university address on their phone. In broken Japanese my friends both attempted small talk with the driver, an older man, but he seemed reticent, probably tired. I can't remember if he even responded with real words--probably focused on not crashing the taxi in the fresh slick snow. I knew how to drive in snow. I wonder, in all his long years, if he ever got used to it. The snow had been falling for some time now. Everything was capped in that snow, diffusing the golden glow of the street lights. Were they gold, I wonder? Maybe some were silver. I can't remember any more. It reflected the colors of the night, the still, freezing night which churned under an endless dark grey cloud. I'd seen those clouds before, in the winters of home, and they made me feel comfortable, warm, like a great blanket stretched across the sky.

I remember how the taxi cruised through the thin residential alleys of Tokyo, lined with small one- or two-story houses, stone fences barely interjecting between the property and the street. Most houses did not have their lights on. Fence after gate after fence after wall flickered past. I fell asleep, or pretended to be asleep, or failed to fall asleep, for a long while. I love sleeping in cars. I always have, since I was a kid.

It was a very long drive. I don't remember how I ended up back in the dorm. Where were we even coming from, then, when we missed our train? Were we split from a larger group? By ourselves, us three? Did we go out to eat, go to see some place? I don't remember any more. I remember the night, the cold, the snow, the frozen world, and the pleasant doom of knowing something would become a memory. Something I would regurgitate and reconsume in my mind until all the realness had left. The snow made sure the memory would become imaginary, picturesque. My eyes engulfed the fluttering, transient frames of the lamp-lit snowy streets. Those pictures which with use would eventually smear and blur into puddles of soft form and color, as they do even now. I wish I had written anything at all then. None of it would've been good, but just to preserve the detail, to remind myself of real, solid things. It's all slowly melting away, now, so soft

#this is not fiction. it is very real. and i needed to relive this in my head #originally this was going to be a one sentencer about how i miss messaging my friends on wechat and line. oh well

[small-sinclair]

Little Lady

Young!Rusty Nail x college fem!reader

Rusty is the same age as reader (think 20-25).

I'll write a part 3 and that's going to be smutty/fluffy. Not profread!

Welcomed readers: @sketchy-rosewitch, @fluffy-little-demon, @poir0t-houck, @waxxl0ver, @crumb, @ninakuli, @whimsyvixen, @roadkillerx, @hope4rain19, @vicl0v3

Part 2 to Little Lady

He drove the through your college a couple times, and every time he saw you.

You would smile, wave, and he would pull over and hop out the cab to see you if he had time or if he didn’t have blood on his hands. Rusty would smile brightly and put out his cigarette so you didn’t smell like it. Someone as beautiful and young like you shouldn’t smell like smoke and dried blood. Mostly, he just liked seeing you, his little lady, and hearing how school was.

At first, he didn’t care about your schooling and your dreams, but he had a change of heart when you showed off your fashion designs in your sketch book one day. And the way you lit up about you passing a hard test? He want to bottle it up and put it in his pocket. Everything from your laughter to your smile made him want you more. But it was the way you said his name when you saw him and he slowed down; so nice and light… Rusty would run every red light to hear you whisper his name. Even on those cold and lonely nights, he hears your voice and sees your eyes in the stars.

When he looks down at the reflection of his victim’s blood, he could see you by his side with your eyes closed.

And you couldn’t help but look forward to seeing the young truck driver. He was always so nice to you, and he would bring you sweet treats from a place he’s been or a sweatshirt. His hands were rough and callous already for being in his young twenties, but you couldn’t help but ache to hold his hand. Whatever was in the glimmer of his eyes and light in his voice, you almost felt at home with him.

When he came to town and drove on the main road pass your class, he came in a different truck. A faded, one-seated, red pickup truck with rust around the rims. The back window had a large crack from the passenger side to the center, and there was a bumper sized dent on the tailgate on the driver side. He was parked on the side of the road as you came out of the building, snow gathering to the side of the walkway.

He was leaning against the side with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Smoke curled around his head like a broken halo as he blew up into the air. When his eyes landed on you, he quickly put the cigarette out with his boot and straightened himself up as if he was about to meet a queen.

“Afternoon, little lady,” he greeted with a big smile. His eyes sparkled in the fading sunlight. “It’s a bit late, ya know? With winter and all, sun goes down.”

You hugged your coat closer and your backpack, that hung from your hip with a star key chain he gave you, came tighter. “There’s supposed to be a winter storm tonight, too,” you hummed. You looked at him up and down. “Where’s your truck?”

He gave a soft grin and chuckled. “Got the next two weeks off, doll.” He looked down the road then back at you. “Decided to visit you for the weekend if that’s okay?”

He earned a little laugh from you as you stepped closer to him. “I don’t mind, Rusty. Besides, I feel better seeing you now; it wasn’t the best day.”

He lifted a brow. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No. Just want to go home, really,” you answered, a tried smile forming on your lips. “I’m tired, Rusty.”

Your defeated voice my his heart ache for a moment. He licked his lips quickly then asked, “Do you want me to drive you home?”

You thought for a moment. How well did you really know him? Sure, he would stop sometimes, pull over, and have you hop in for a drive or to take you to the diner off campus if it was really late. You yeah, he would hang out with you, talk to you, let you sleep on his should when you got sleepy, and listen to your week like you would for him. But he never really told you much about his life. He knows about your family and your golf fish, Larry, but you don’t even know if he has a house or a shed!

You didn’t know if you should let him take you home, but it is getting darker and colder…

You came from your thoughts when a sudden blast of cold wind hits your back. Before you could even bundle up, Rusty took you in his arms and hid your face in his chest as the wind picked up. He lowered his head and closed his eyes as snow hit his body, and he shivered as it went down his shirt. He remembered what his aching arms are for when he shields your from the blast of snow and wind as he tucked your head under his chin. He was cold, yes; but he felt your warmth and smelt your sweet cherry scent in the cold air. You are worth getting cold for.

When the wind died down for a moment, he already made his mind up. “I’m taking you home,” he says in the fabric of your winter hat. “It’s too damn cold for ya ta’walk.” Without you protesting or even thinking about having a say, he pushes you to his truck and got you in.

You slid from the driver side to the passenger side easily as he followed in. He started the engine and turned the heater up. He leaned back in his seat then glanced at you. The light snow in his hair and on his eye lashes made him look like a wolf hunting in the winter. If that’s the case, then you might as well be the rabbit.

As the heat circled the truck, he buckled up, looked both ways, and pulled out into the road. “Wanna get food first before I drop you off?”

You buckled yourself up at the stoplight. “I have food in the slow cooker,” you glanced at him then at the snow coming down. “Bet you hadn’t had a good home meal in a while, huh?”

Rusty’s thumb taped on the wheel in thought. “It’s been a while, yeah,” the truck moved forward, “you don’t mind, do you?”

“It’ll be nice not to eat by myself tonight,” you answered. “Besides, I have beef and noodles cooking. Larry can’t have that.”

“Gotta keep that fish happy,” he answered. “But if we fed him gold fish crackers…”

“Cannibalism.”

He snorted out a laugh. “It’s crackers!”

“In the shape of a fish, Rusty!” You protested, giving him an offended look before laughing to yourself.

The snow flakes were starting to fall fast and grew bigger. Rusty glances at you then the road. His smile was warm and serene. “Whatever you say, doll.”

***********

After a missed turn and a quick stop for gas and soda, he parked in front of your apartment. it wasn't too big, only being three stories tall, but it wasn't too small, either. It was close to campus, but it was still far from your college class rooms.

"I live in the basement," you said, pointed at a window that was ground level. "It's a studio, so it's small."

Rusty shrugged as he closed the car door. "Big enough for two people, right?"

"Big enough for two people plus a fish," you answered. "I live on the quiet side of college. Nothing happens around here besides hearing the train at night."

Rusty closed the door tight and followed you down the five steps to the basement. Across from your apartment was the laundry room; no neighbors to say hello or to bother you. As much as Rusty was glad that he got you all to himself, he didn't like that you were alone when you came back from a long day. Come to think of it, he doesn't remember you telling him about your friends. He only knew that your family was three hours away and hardly visit.

When you opened the door to your apartment, he could help but marvel at your room. You apartment was lit by soft yellow and white Christmas tree lights, giving it a warm feeling, and it was clean. You had a couch with pillows, a little coffee table, and a bookshelf in a corner by the kitchen. To the left, your bed was neatly made with stuffed animals and fluffy pillows, and his sweatshirt you stole laid with your p.j. pants. There was a desk with a photo of your family, and Larry's fish bowl was on the dresser. He had a little castle and a dragon skull in the tank and Larry was a fat fish that swam peacefully and carelessly around. When he looked up, he saw printed pictures of you and him taped to the wall, but one photo of him by his truck was in a little circle frame that said "Bless the 18 Wheeler" at the bottom. When he looked closer, he could make out faded lips on his face; your lips.

He looked back at you as you entered the kitchen and pulled down some bowls and cups. "You didn't have to put me in a frame, y/n."

"I know," you answered as you fixed him a bowl of noodles from your slow cooker. "But I did. You're the first person I see in the morning." You exited the kitchen and placed the bowls on the coffee table. "I think you look cute in that photo, too."

"Cute?" He asked. "I ain't cute."

You rolled your eyes as you patted the seat next to you on the couch for him to join you. "I know, I know. You're a big, strong, tough truck driver."

He hung his jacket on the back of your computer chair then sat next to you. His dark brown plaid he normally wears was warn and still dirty. Rusty took the bowl and started eating. "Don't you forget it," he said with a mouthful of noodles. His eyes rolled back at the taste and he started wolfing down his meal. It's been so long since Rusty had a good meal like this. He's so used to gas station food and microwaved food that he forgot was a home meal tasted like. Best of all, it was made by your hands and love.

You ate with him and felt happy. You and Larry weren't alone tonight during the snow storm. Some was with you to keep you warm for the weekend.

"Are you staying the night?" You asked as you brought him another bowl.

He looked out the window at the big snowflakes and watched how fast they were falling. "You sure? I don't wanna intrude."

"I don't mind. Besides," you nodded at his truck. "You're already snowed in, the motels are probly full with other travelers, and the roads were already covered in black ice when you came down," swallowed a spoonful of noodles. "I feel safer with you here than driving in this weather. I have plenty of blankets and pillows for you to use, too."

Rusty acted like he was thinking, but he already had his mind made up. he was going to stay no matter if you said no or didn't ask. He was going to have you for himself tonight even if you like it or not. This is what he was looking forward to ever since he laid eyes on you, but why did he feel disgusted with himself when he looked at your sweet smile? Why did he feel sick when his lustful desires took over and his mind raced with images of you pinned to the bed, begging him to stop fucking you so rough? His stomach turned when his own actions and sinful wishes took over; he couldn't do that to you. He realizes that now. All he want so do is hold his little lady tonight and keep her warm through the winter storm.

"Alright," he said in a low voice. "I'll stay with you, little lady."

#rusty nail fanfic #rusty nail x y/n #rusty nail x reader #rusty nail joyride #joyride fanfiction #joyride 2013 #joyride 2001 #joyride 2008 #slasher fics #slasher fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher fandom #slasher x s/o #slasher x reader #slasher x you

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

The Great War | Regulus Black

▹ Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

▹ Genre: Angst and Fluff

▹ Words: ~ 5K

▹ Summary: You'd swore not to cry anymore if you and Regulus managed to survive the great war.

▹ Notes: I'd like to personally thank the Anon that reminded me nearly a year ago about Sirius Black dying without knowing his brother wasn't like their parents. To alleviate the sadness of that fact, I wrote this fic :)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Your memories were plagued by cold winter nights and eyes as bright and bitter as a snow storm. 

Regulus' hands in yours, interlocked with a grip so tight it kept you from floating away. Stolen stares and clandestine meetings in the middle of the night at the top of the Astronomy tower became sacred, only for him to never look your way in the light of day. 

You knew every constellation, both in the sky and in his eyes. When snow fell, Regulus would carefully brush away the melted snow droplets on your cheeks. The air was biting and the wind unrelenting, a concoction that made for the perfect excuse to nuzzle into Regulus' side. You'd pretend it was for warmth when really you craved his touch. His lips would tilt into a half-smirk as you spoke, seeing through your flimsy excuse. Yet his arm would wrap around you all the same, pulling you impossibly close. 

The moments had been brief, gone within the blink of an eye. Reality would creep in, dampening the dreamy optimism you clung to in moments of doubt. No one could know; Regulus Black was consorting with a muggleborn, how scandalous. His family would eat him alive, a notion that made him keep you in the shadows, a place you happily stayed. You'd draw stars in the air with your fingertips, placating your fears with delusions that it wouldn't be forever. Each whispered word was an oath that you would carry to your grave. 

You'd never doubted that Regulus Black loved you; you could hear it in the easy silence and see it in the soft expression reserved just for you. Understanding and calm, he clung to the tranquility you brought to his turbulent life. So certain that everything would turn out fine, you never dared to ask for more. 

Then, it all turned into something bitter.

He slipped from your grasp like water, his feather light touches and sardonic smile only felt and seen in your dreams. The haze brought by the security of Hogwarts was muddied, reality much too bright to look at head-on. War gripped the wizarding world; Voldemort and his Death Eaters were the cause of the strife. Thrown into the trenches, you struggled to stay above water. With each mission and spell cast, any trace of innocence and youth that remained was ripped from you. All the bloodshed, death, and terror stained you dark red. Even if you survived, you'd never be the same.

You hadn't seen Regulus since the war started; even in your dreams, his face was a vague blur of what he used to be. You couldn't recall when the severing had happened; the letters came less frequently until they stopped coming at all. He used to drop by your apartment unannounced, a shy grin and flowers in hand. Regulus must've lost his way because he never made his way back. The love shared between the two of you turned bitter, and in the haze of it all, the betrayal stung harsher than any spell could. 

You damned him each time the phantom scent of his cologne lingered in your apartment. And you cried each time flashes of your best moments came back in the depth of night. Sucker punching walls and screaming into the sky never alleviated the pain; you cursed him while sleep talking. It was cognitive dissonance; you claimed to hate him all while wishing he would just come back and explain why.

"You good for this?" Sirius Black's voice echoed in the depths of your mind, breaking you from the reverie. Twin gray eyes, reflecting similar to his brother's. It was nearly enough to send you into a spiral. A simple nod was the only reply you gave him, but it was all he needed. 

Another mission, another attempt at stopping what was starting to feel inevitable. You didn't want to be so hopeless and desolate, but it couldn't be helped. The walls were closing in; you were losing the war.

"We all remember the plan, right?" A member of the order said. You couldn't remember their name, but you didn't care to. They may be dead in a week. There's no sense in getting to know them now. 

"Was there even much of a plan? We go in and minimize as much damage as we can, that's it," James Potter's voice stood out amongst the chatter. The rest of the members assigned to the mission solemnly nod, calling out various agreements. 

Numbness flooded your body, completely apathetic to the chaos you were charging headfirst into. This part used to be daunting, stabbing tiny needles in your body, but you'd desensitized yourself to it. Dissociated so far away that you weren't even sure anything was real. Healthy? No, but it was necessary; you couldn't afford to freeze up.

The people around you began to apparate and you followed suit. It felt as if you were being pulled apart and put back together. A thought flickered in your mind; perhaps if you were spliced, you wouldn't have to deal with the emotional turmoil that's been weighing you down. But all too soon, the feeling stopped; a wave of nausea hit and then vanished. 

You were there. 

It all became a blur; the exact moment the fight broke out was hard to pinpoint. All you could remember were the screams and the people pushing and pulling you like the tide. In the confusion of it all, masked figures around every corner, it was easy to forget you were fighting real people. They were skeletal visages you created, not living, breathing people. Bodies began to drop on both sides, curses and spells falling from the lips of everyone around. 

“Petrificus Totalus.” You flicked your wand, petrifying the Death Eater closest to you. With a thump, their body fell to the ground, and you were on to the next, adrenaline keeping your body upright. You turn the incantation to another spell on the tip of your lips. But your words fell short, your body locking up as you stared at the person in front of you. It was as if you'd been cursed, except you hadn't.

They wore a mask like all the other Death Eaters, but the icy gray eyes peering at you were hard to forget. 

Regulus. 

You froze, unable to move even as your mind screamed at you to act. The noise of the room was muffled, a sharp ringing nearly making your ears bleed. Regulus was a--

You'd suspected as much, what with his family's allegiance to the Dark Lord and all he stood for. Yet until now, there has been no confirmation that your worst nightmares have come to fruition. But as Regulus stood there in the garb of your enemy, it would seem war found you on different ends of the same battlefield. 

A bitter, smokey taste filled your mouth as everything the two of you shared turned to ash. He was here; there was no more denying what he'd done. Regulus was a Death Eater. Your stomach turned to knots as it threatened to empty its contents right then and there. Fighting for the blood purists, you guess he never really loved you then.

Regulus tore off his mask, allowing it to drop to the ground with a thud that wasn't heard over the noise. His dark hair was messy and tangled, the ends of it curling from the sweat on the nape of his neck. Heavy dark circles lined his eyes, worse than they'd ever been, skin pallid and sickly. Eyes that previously shone like a bright star were dim and threatening to burn out. Dry skin clung to his lips, and you could see the damage his teeth had caused to his bottom lip. 

He looked terrible. 

Regulus had talked in length about the stifling expectations his family had placed upon him. He both hated and feared his family, witnessing the abuse Sirius suffered before he ran away. It was never something spoken, but you knew the resentment he harbored for Sirius, both for leaving Regulus behind and having the courage to go against the grain. You did your best, encouraging him to leave as well, to make the hard choice of not getting swept into the current. Even when Regulus disappeared from your life, you hoped he would take the hard road. Yet he took the easy way out.

Pity turned your numb body cold, and the fury it caused turned you hot. How dare he? After everything he'd done, to have such a tight grip on you still. To make you feel sorry for him as if he'd been forced down this path. He'd made his decision; he decided to follow the road that led to this exact moment. Why should you weep for him? 

Even then, with all your turmoil and rage, you still couldn't lift your wand at him. Time seemed slow, the chaos melting away the longer you looked into his eyes. Five seconds extended to five years.

But Regulus didn't share your hesitation or paralysis. He lifted his wand, a spell falling from his lips as his wrist flicked. You didn't have time to react, magical energy pooling at the tip of his wand before it shot towards you. Your eyes widened, and your heart stopped, unable to do anything other than watch your own death. 

But the impact never came. Instead, the green light flew past your shoulder, grazing your hair. Square in the chest, it hit a Death Eater that had crept up behind you. A gasp left your mouth, the only sound you'd made since the battle started. 

Their body hit the ground, unmoving. Only then did you turn to face Regulus. His expression remained unchanged, yet yours portrayed all the confusion and surprise in your head. At the speed of light, your heartbeat rattling against your chest, the barest hints of hope tinged your pessimistic thoughts. Was there a chance? His gaze softened, and his wand hand hanging slack at his side. You didn't want to fight anymore. All your steeled nerves and empty declarations of no longer caring about him were voided in an instant. You took a step towards him, hand reaching for him, but he took a stiff step back. 

"Regulus--"

He was gone, apparating from the battle. 

Sharply, you inhaled, holding it for a few heartbeats, then let it out. Regulus was no longer in sight. You returned to the battle. You rushed forward, trampling over the Death Eater mask he'd left behind. The porcelain it'd been made from cracked under the weight of you as the dirt on your shoes muddied its intricate designs.

You hardly thought twice about it, flinging another spell at a Death Eater. 

Another mission completed; more casualties piling up. 

---

"I saw you, you know," Sirius Black said. You'd all returned from the mission about two hours ago and just finished debriefing what happened. You stayed silent, your mind too preoccupied to come up with a singular thought.

"Saw me what? Fighting Death Eaters? Yeah, I saw you too." You were deflecting; he knew that, and you knew that he knew. The glint in his eye was not at all as careless as it had once been. Yet you feigned ignorance all the same.

"Yeah. I also saw you and Regulus." 

Your movements stilled as your body turned rigid. You didn't meet his eyes, didn't even blink. What could you say? Nothing would stop him from going to Moody or Dumbledore; at best, you'd be kicked from the Order; at worst, thrown in Azkaban and branded a traitor. 

"I don't know what you mean." It was a weak defense, but it was all you had. 

"Oh, shove off. I'm not stupid. I saw the way you reacted when you saw him, but I also saw him kill that Death Eater." 

You turned to meet his eyes. There was a question hidden in his statement. His gray eyes, so similar to Regulus's, were pleading, a part of him begging that maybe his brother wasn't completely lost. That he wasn't exactly what their parents were. 

"I don't know why he did that." Confirmation that Regulus was a Death Eater should've cemented so many things. The world should be black and white; he was a Death Eater; therefore, he didn't love you anymore, if he ever even did. How could he claim to love a muggleborn while doing his best to ensure you were eradicated? But now you weren't so sure. He was a Death Eater, yes, but he'd also saved your life. 

The migraine you'd had since you met him on the battlefield threatened to explode. 

"Do you--" he hesitated, his words quiet and soft. So unlike the barking confidence he usually possessed. The armor he'd shielded himself with was cracking. "Do you think there's a chance for him?" 

You pursed your lips. 

"I don't know." 

Without another word, you stood from the chair and muttered a quick "goodbye" before returning home. Your apartment had been just as you'd left it as you stood in front of the door, illuminated by the dim light on the steps. Except when you went to unlock the door, you found it already slightly ajar. 

The hair on your body stood up, cold fear briefly washing over you. The Death Eaters were getting bolder with their attacks. Would you be the next victim? Would it be your name and picture covering the cover page of every newspaper? For a moment, you considered leaving or at least getting help, yet you did neither. Instead, you pushed open your door, the wand held tightly in your hand. 

The room was dark, the sun having long since set. The pale blue light of your wand cast shadows in every corner of the room. It only made your nerves worse, jumping at every corner and shadow. The entryway was empty, as was the living room, but as you turned into the dining area and kitchen, you noticed a figure sitting at your table. They were still as a statue as they sat at your table, jacket neatly folded and placed in front of them.

Regulus. 

His eyes were on you, arms slack at his sides, and he was wearing a grim expression. The dark circles you'd seen earlier that day seemed worse, so blackened they looked like bruises. You took a step back, the grip on your wand tightening as you held it up in a threatening manner.

"So this is it. You came here to kill me?" Your voice was like stone, cold and hard. There was a lump in your throat flecks of fear in your shining eyes, but you hardened your face. You wouldn't show any sign of weakness. If he would let the love you shared sink beneath the waves, then you'd drown the entire fucking world the two of you created. 

He took a step forward, dark, stormy eyes pleading. “No, Y/N, that’s not--”

Regulus fell silent as you moved your wand from his chest towards his face, eyes narrowed. There was a tremble to your body; lips pressed so tight as to stifle the sobs that came up your throat. 

"Stay back."

Regulus complied, raising his hands as a show of good faith. He wore that same disarming puppy dog face, like an abandoned dog alone in a shelter. Previously, you would've melted, running back to his embrace. But so many things were different, and it showed in the vacancy that made your eyes hollow.

"I would never hurt you." He asserted, hoping the sincerity of his words could penetrate the steel-enforced walls you'd encased yourself with. His placations had the opposite effect, the pain twisting into cold rage. 

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for it? You're a Death Eater, Regulus. That means you and all your other purist friends want people like me dead." The death grip you held your wand with seemed to tighten. All circulation in your hand has been cut off, but it was all you could do to stop the tears from falling from your eyes. 

"That is not true. I don't want you dead." 

A choked laughter fell from your lips. 

"Then I think you joined up with the wrong organization." Your words were sarcastic but not at all joking or light. 

"It wasn't my choice." There was no change in his expression, eyes holding your gaze captive.

"No, you had a choice," you snapped back, silencing whatever pathetic excuse he used to convince himself he was justified in his actions. "And you made the wrong one."

Regulus fell silent, chewing on his bottom lip and shifting nervously. Your breath came out in angry puffs, reminiscent of a dragon. The tears made everything unclear and watery, but you refused to move a single muscle, even if it was just to wipe away the tears. 

"I did what I had to do."

You felt your hand loosen, grip slackening enough that your wand almost fell from your fingertips. Thickly, you swallowed, cheeks damp from the tears that steadily fell from your eyes. This was it; your chance to finally tell Regulus everything you'd been screaming into your walls since he walked out of your life.

"You didn't have to do anything." Your voice was raw as you said the words you'd rehearsed time and time again. "Least of all, join the wrong side of the war. We had graduated; you could run away from all of that, and there was nothing your parents could've done." 

"It's not that simple--"

"But it is, or at least it was," you exclaimed, cutting him off, voice cracking with the desperation you've locked away all this time. "You could've run and never looked back after our last day--"

"It was too late then."

You narrowed your eyes, a silent cue for him to explain when it had been too late.

"The summer between 5th and 6th year. After everything that happened with Sirius, they wanted to ensure I would be the perfect son they wanted."

"You never said anything."

"I didn't want you to look at me differently. My fate had already been sealed, and it was selfish of me to keep it from you, but I--"

He fell silent, eyes meeting the floor as his tongue became tied.

"You what?"

In a crazy, fucked up way, you were hoping he'd say everything you dreamed of. That he would reassure you he loved you and he never meant to hurt you. You wanted him to scorn his family and all their expectations of him. For once, you wanted him to make the right choice and not take the easy way out. You'd never fight with him anymore if he'd just asked to stay. 

People always said love wasn't always enough, but you'd be willing to let Regulus ruin you time and time again. 

"It doesn't matter now." 

Disappointment was a feeling you were accustomed to by now, but that didn't make the bitter rejection sting any less. The tears on your cheeks were like acid, and you roughly wiped them away.

"I suppose it doesn't; you made your choice, and so have I."

Maybe now it would sink in. Your whirlwind romance with Regulus ended the moment you left Hogwarts for good. It wouldn't be some grand love like the books you'd read. He wouldn't push through any obstacle that stood between you and him. 

Regulus wasn't a passionate man; he was pragmatic and calculated. Any risk he'd taken was never a risk after analyzing every angle and way it may go wrong. It was how he'd ended up trapped in the cycle of his family, and Sirius was able to break free. They were two sides of the same coin, yet they couldn't have turned out any more differently. 

It was a hard pill to swallow; the man you loved was nothing like you imagined him to be. 

"Why are you even here?" Your tone was sharp and pointed.

One last opportunity for him to mend what he had ripped to shreds. Why did you keep giving him so many chances?

"I'm not sure."

You slowly nodded, hands lowering to rest at your side. He'd never say the words you needed to hear; Regulus Black could never be the man you wanted him to be. 

"I've missed you."

Maybe without realizing it, Regulus continued to twist the dagger he embedded in you. 

You should tell him to leave, but the words won't form. 

"I missed you too."

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, fighting a battle within his own mind. You stayed silent, watching with wide eyes as he stepped towards you. 

Your eyes stayed on him, afraid that if you even breathed, he'd change his mind. His hands were cold as he gently grabbed ahold of your face. The grip he held you with was careful and delicate, afraid to break you. 

As if no time had passed, you leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut and relishing in his presence. He still smelled of bergamot and smoke. 

You opened your eyes, meeting his unwavering gaze. A thousand words were said in the silence, both of you trying to convey what you were too cowardly to verbalize. 

A sharp breath, the flutter of your lashes as your eyes closed. The Regulus' lips were on yours. His kiss was nearly too light to feel, and it made all reason disappear. 

Your lips parted as you combed your hands through his hair, working through the tangles at the nape of his neck. His grip tightened as he kissed you like a man starved. 

Regulus pulled back first, his expression blank and unsure. Did he regret what he'd started? Hurt began to blossom, weighing down the high he gave you. It took so little effort to fade back into him. The reminder was like a sharp jab to the gut. 

His eyes wouldn't meet yours, yet his feet stayed planted in the ground. So close together, you could feel the heave of each intake of breathe and hurt radiating from his body.

This was dangerous territory to be in. Regulus was a Death Eater; you couldn't do this all over again.

Whatever love there was between the two of you had to die. You had to light the match and turn it to ash, even if that meant you went out in flames too.

"I think it's best if you go."

Regulus slowly nodded his head, his eyes moving from the floor to meet yours. Years of abuse and "discipline" led to him mastering the art of dissociation, to not let an ounce of emotion show on his face.

Despite the self soothing thoughts that reassured you it was the right choice, your bruised ego was desperate for a sign that your love affair had maimed him even an ounce as much as it did you.

Maybe in an alternate universe, the two of you were happy, but war was war, and its very nature was to take, take, take until there was nothing left in the aftermath.

Regulus didn't argue or fight, he simply dipped his head in a single, firm nod, mouth set in a thin line, nothing more spoken than a quiet "I see." In the blink of an eye, he disappeared, leaving you alone in your dark, depressing apartment.

A shuddered breath left your body shaking. That night, you didn't make it to your bed; that felt entirely too big and too lonely. You collapsed on the couch, allowing the weight of the world to fall off as you slipped into unconsciousness. And in your dreams, you saw nothing but the endless nothing that threatened to swallow you whole.

---

“I now go to my death with the hopes you’ll forgive me for all the pain I’ve inflicted upon you. I never intended to hurt you, but now I realize it was all I’ve ever done. I don’t expect forgiveness, I understand I’m no longer worthy of it, if I ever was. I love you, don’t forget that.”

- Yours truly,

Regulus

Your eyes were trained on the letter held by shaky hands, stained with tears that fell from your cheeks. It had arrived two days ago, the letter accompanied with a small bag holding a locket. The writing on the letter was illegible, but you’d memorized every crease and fold on the paper. Why was it when you’d finally begin to forget about him, something would always bring him back. Part of it was your fault, you’d always welcomed him with open arms, but you’d hoped this time you’d end a cycle that never seemed to end.

Stood on the cliff sides, the winter air biting at your skin. What could he have done to be so certain of his death? Regulus was too insignificant for the Order to focus entirely on, so maybe he’d done something to spurn his Dark Lord. You hoped that was the case.

Inhaling the frosty air, you tucked the note into your pocket and turned to return to your house. Hands shoved in your pocket, the snow crunched under the weight of your feet. Lost in thought, you hardly noticed the sun had begun to set. Before long, the old brick building you’d made your home came into view. Crunching snow was replaced with footsteps on wood stairs and you pushed open your front door. You shook the snow off your jacket, setting it on the coat hanger by the door. The fireplace was already crackling, casting a warm glow in the room. 

You moved towards the kitchen to put a kettle on before moving back towards your room to get ready for bed. The heavy winter clothes were replaced by fleece pajamas that were soft like a rabbit. You sat at your vanity table and began combing through your hair. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the small box on your side table. Within the iron enforced lead box was the locket Regulus had mailed with his letter. It seemed insignificant at first glance, but the longer you looked at it, the darker its aura felt. Regulus had written explicit instructions for you to hide the locket, both from yourself and the world. There hadn’t been time to think of a secure location, so before then, it would remain in the box, its magic suppressed for a time. 

You’d question Regulus on it at some point, but for now you would go against every instinct telling you to ignore his letter and send back the locket. For as many times Regulus disappointed yourself, you’d let yourself down tenfold for continuing to give him the chance to do so. 

The whistle of the kettle had you stand from your vanity and pad back into the kitchen. But as you moved into the kitchen, the wall opened so that you could see into the living room, you were no longer alone. Standing in the middle of the room was Regulus. He looked worse off than his last visit, his clothes wrinkled and hair greasy. 

He didn’t speak and neither did you;’ your eyes focused on one another. The air was awkward, all the questions you’d had for him melting away from the softness in the gray eyes. You were the first to break the impromptu staring contest, grabbing two mugs instead of one. Wordlessly you began to prepare cups of tea, making it in just the way you knew Regulus liked it. 

The wood floors creaked as Regulus moved to the couch in front of the fireplace, his jacket hanging beside yours. After a moment, you joined him, passing the warm mug to his open hand. Not a single word shared between the two of you. The only sound in the house was the crackle of the fire and the slurping of the two of you drinking from your mugs. 

“Is it over now?” You finally spoke, unable to look towards Regulus. 

A moment passed; you blew on your tea, steam flooding your face as you lowered your head. 

“Yes.” 

You leaned forward to set your mug on the table, the glass clinking as you did. You turned, finally looking at Regulus since taking a seat. His eyes were focused on you; broken and blue with the face of a man haunted by war. Yet beyond that was warm relief. War was finally over. 

The Dark Lord and his followers were still afoot, and they’d need to be dealt with. But the Great War that plagued you and Regulus was finally over. The worst had ended.

Tomorrow you'd have questions about the locket and it's evil aura, you'd want to know what exactly he did that made him believe his death was certain. There was also the matter of how they'd proceed in the war. Regulus could be a turn coat, to give insight on the Death Eaters. So many things to consider, it made you feel dizzy. But those were semantics better dealt with at a later time.

For now, you just wanted to be a girl, sitting with a boy who you've loved since you were fourteen.

Droplets of tears stained your couch dark, your cheeks dampened. It was like a weight had been lifted and for a moment you thought you might disappear.

One of your hands dropped from the mug, laying on the couch near Regulus' limp hand. The grim line his lips had been pressed into warped into a soft smile. He placed his hand over yours, intertwining his fingers with you.

Not much was spoken the rest of the night. The two of you sat in comfortable silence, occasionally making chatter here and there. Your drinks were drained and when your eyes were too heavy to keep open, you’d led Regulus back into your room and onto your bed. His arms tangled around your body and your head on his chest you fell into a peaceful slumber you’d been robbed of since leaving Hogwarts behind.

#regulus black imagine #the marauders imagines #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black #regulus black angst #hp marauders #marauders angst #marauders era #sirius black #marauders #the marauders

[justporo]

Twinkle, twinkle

Astarion and Tav take a walk late at night through one of the parks in Baldur's Gate and have a magical moment to themselves.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Written for the "Twinkling Lights" prompt for the BG3 Winter Holiday Challenge! We're back with the second prompt for the challenge. Don't know yet if I'll be able to do each one but I'm surely trying! I finally figured out which music gives me the right vibes for all of this at least - I really love to listen to Luna for this!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: none Wordcount: 1,2 k

~~~

Astarion and you spent a nice winter evening together walking through the city. You kept staring at the snowflakes in admiration as they kept drifting down and slowly and surely covered the world beneath them. And with that you discovered that you could actually enjoy the cold season for the first time in your life. Astarion kept quipping about how the weather wouldn’t allow anymore for you to walk about precariously clothed as you had done when the city had been hit by a heatwave. 

The vampire just very obviously was made for summer. But at least at one point he admitted how pretty the tiny specks of snow looked in your reddish-brown hair. And when you argued that in turn the winter season encouraged many more cuddles and just staying in your cosy, enormous bed together Astarion’s eyebrows lifted and a grin spread over his face: “Maybe I should hope then that we’ll be snowed in with no one but each other for company and the desperate need to hide under the covers to stay warm and escape the dreadful cold, my love?” He was looking at you with this dangerous sparkle in his eyes and a grin that was full of sinful promise. You could feel your heart take a leap and felt the heat of a blush spread across your cheeks. Your face was probably now twice as red from the combination of biting cold and once again getting flustered by your vampire.

With some effort you tried to play it down and sighed at his need to dramatise everything: “You know, Astarion my beloved, you can have that without the actual danger of freezing to death.” But about that the vampire just laughed and promised you that he wouldn’t let it come to this.

You had your joyful evening, enjoying a nice dinner then venturing further through the wintery town. Meanwhile the city had been covered in a thick, plush blanket of snow. Astarion still made a fuss about it while you couldn’t get enough of the views.

On your way home finally, you insisted on taking the way through one of the parks. Astarion rolled his eyes but agreed. The cold might not be an actual threat to your vampire but it was still unpleasant to him. In turn, he made you swear to make good on the cuddling once you would have returned to your joint home. A promise you were more than happy to give and fulfil later on.

By now it was deep in the night, the moon casting everything in pale silver light. In fact, the perfect illumination to make the snow everywhere sparkle and glint.

And the rest of the streets were illuminated by lots of mage lights all around the city that were primarily meant to keep everything lit well during the darker times of the year. But they also made for pretty and atmospheric decorations.

In the park you had just entered someone had surely focused more on the decorative part. Small glinting silvery lights glowed along the pathways and on the brushes and trees all around.

Besides the two of you the park was completely empty - of course, it was late at night or maybe pretty early morning. Astarion’s hand was relaxingly resting on the small of your back and he kept throwing you adoring glances as he watched you take in the scenery.

You walked slowly along the pathways and up some lazily bending staircases, taking in how the lights twinkled and the snow reflected them a thousand times over with smaller sparkles.

The snow crunched pleasantly under your boots and you realised there was almost no other sound to be heard other than your muffled footsteps and your breaths that manifested in the crispy winter air.

And then you came up on the central spot in the park. A gasp left your mouth when you saw it and you were sure even Astarion let out a smaller one behind you.

A giant weeping willow rose up before you. The leaves had long fallen from the many drooping branches. But the majestic, big tree was now frozen over and covered in the freshly fallen snow, each hanging tendril frosted white and glittering from the ice crystals on it. Around and all over it were many more of the small silvery mage lights. And behind the tree you saw the small pond that was now completely frozen over. The ice was peeking through some of the powdery snow and reflected some of the many lights up in the enormous tree. The rest of the mood was set by the moon bathing everything in gentle, pale light.

It truly looked magical. You threw Astarion beside you a glance and saw how he too seemed awestruck. His red eyes were wide and you saw the lights sparkle and reflect in them. The pale moonlight on his face intensified his sharp, beautiful features: the aristocratic nose, the high cheekbones, the soft white curls that were illuminated by the moon and made him look ethereal.

You didn’t know what was more bewitching now: the fairytale scene around you or the beautiful pale elf that for some reason had decided to spend the rest of his life with you. And at some point you noticed you had gotten carried away with staring at Astarion’s face because you saw that he was watching you out of the corner of his eyes and was smirking broadly.

“So, the snow and the lights aren't as beautiful in comparison anymore, eh?”, he teased. You huffed.

“Well, the lights and the snow are really putting in work to give you a nice backdrop to look even more beautiful, darling”, you answered just as sassily and softly elbowed him. The vampire softly laughed and shook his head so his curls flew around his head and a few snowflakes fell from his hair. A smile grew on your face seeing how effortlessly happy he seemed.

Then you looked back at the scenery in front of you and then grabbed Astarion’s hand and walked with him until you were standing under the long snow-coated and lit up branches of the weeping willow.

“You’re not going to propose now, are you, my dear?”, Astarion asked you with a mockingly lifted eyebrow as you turned towards him, grabbing hold of his other hand too.

“Would you want me to propose?”, you asked back, mirroring his facial expression. Your heart involuntarily made a few somersaults despite not having any plans of getting engaged this night.

Astarion cocked his head, he sounded genuine when he next spoke: “Maybe. Some time. Although I have to say - I would love to be the one proposing, pick out a ring for you, plan something that takes your breath away.” He pursed his lips and his gaze drifted away from yours as he undoubtedly was thinking about what dramatic surprise he could come up with. You silently smiled to yourself as your chest filled with warmth.

“Well, good thing then I wasn’t planning on putting a ring on your finger tonight then. You might get your chance, yet”, you replied with a grin. Astarion’s gaze went back to yours, he smiled lovingly at you.

“How about just a sappy little kiss then, my love?”, the vampire asked and already slowly leaned towards you while you were still holding hands.

You met him halfway with parted lips and then let yourself be wrapped in his arms when he let go of your hands to put his arms around you. And there you stood for long moments enjoying your own little fairytale happy ending: kissing your unlikely prince surrounded by twinkling lights in your very own winter wonderland scene.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess

#BG3HolidayFluffle23 #astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 companions #snow

[stellar-skyy]

Hellooo!! May I please request Зима as a lover? Just sweet fluff with how he caught feelings, how he expresses his love, silly things about him, headcanons, etc. I hope this wasn't too confusing and I'm super sorry if I broke one of the rules, you can just ignore this if I did. Thank you so much nevertheless!!

WINTER ADRIFT — Zima x reader.

i. SUMMARY: Zima as a lover. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: None! iii. NOTES: Fluff, so fluffy, headcanons, gn!reader, 0.7k words. iv. A/N: Hiii anon!! I was really happy to write this, I love this silly little man. Thank you for the request! ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ

Zima is a very serious looking person. He doesn’t smile often, his words are few and far between, and when he does speak it is quiet and under his breath.

Despite this somewhat intimidating appearance, Zima is a very soft person at heart. He adores his little bird, his notebooks filled with scribbled poetry and other writings, and of course you. 

You, who appeared in his life as quickly as rainfall, bringing a certain light that he’d never experienced before. You, who split his life into two: the Before, and the After.

Before, he was a lonely poet wandering the Far East, with no one but wild animals to keep him from complete isolation. There was only his bird, his poems. It was a quiet life, one that let loneliness seep in far too quickly for his liking, but it was predictable and calm.

And then came the After. Before, he didn’t mind the solitude. But After—After, he couldn’t bear it, because he’d finally gotten a taste of what it was like to not be alone.

Zima’s days turned from sitting still for hours, writing diligently in his notebook, to walking alongside you through trees, watching the snow fall against his windows together, and baking bread in a kitchen far too small for two.

He fell for you very quickly, even if it took a while for him to realize it. It was only when he reflected upon his notebook and its contents, and noticed the sheer amount of writings dedicated to you. He doesn’t quite focus on his work after he’s penned it, so it was easy enough for the poems to be composed and then tucked away into his mind without realizing how many of them were a reflection on his feelings towards you.

By the time the two of you were properly together, he had already written enough to spill the contents of his heart ten times over.

He’s a very early riser, so he always ends up waking up before you. When he wakes up, he likes to look over at you; to watch your chest rise and fall in a careful rhythm, and observe the way your lips slightly part with every puff of breath. He’ll brush a hand over your forehead first, moving any loose strands of hair out of the way, before pressing a quick kiss to it.

Physical affection isn’t easy for him—in fact, he’s rather shy about it. He would prefer to hold your hand or chastely kiss your cheek rather than be overly affectionate, but if you ask for a hug or kiss, he won’t refuse.

(He gives amazing hugs. Just tight enough to feel secure without being restricting, and warm enough to keep away the winter chill.)

Even if he wants to shower you in sweet words and compliments, he isn’t flawless in the language and sometimes his speech fails him. Talking out loud is more difficult than writing, so the loving compliments he does give you are to be treasured.

Instead of words, he leaves you with gifts. A poem, dedicated to you. Wildflowers, picked from the snow and tied together with a ribbon. Baked foods, each more delicious than the last.

He’ll spend hours with you, not talking, just existing in the same space as him. If you sit with him long enough, you’ll be able to hear quiet mumbles under his breath as he becomes fully absorbed in his writing.

He knew he loved you as soon as the animals became as comfortable around you as they were around him. It began with his bird, who despite being all but glued to his side ever since they had met, decided to land on top of your head and settle in your hair. Next came the rabbits, and the ferrets, and then all of the rest of the creatures.

Those animals were his companions, his friends. It was inevitable they would love you just as much as he did, and seeing them warm up to you so quickly was only further proof that you were the one for him.

Seeing you sitting there, with his bird nestled into the crook of your neck, a fox curled on your lap and an elk resting at your side…

He can’t think of a moment where he’s felt more content.

“Hmm? What are you smiling about?”

“Ah… it is nothing… you simply look… perfect."

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #st. pavlov foundation #reverse 1999 x reader #r1999 x reader #reverse 1999 x gender neutral reader #reverse 1999 x gn reader #r1999 x gn reader #r1999 x gender neutral reader #r1999 zima x reader #zima x reader #reverse 1999 zima x reader #r1999 fluff #reverse 1999 fluff

[breannasfluff]

“Mr. Hero! Come on!”

“Ravio, it’s freezing out. It’s winter! There’s snow!”

“Yes, but you need to see this!”

Legend stands, hands on his hips, and glares at the merchant. “I have to put on snow clothes.”

“Just boots!” Ravio has a full robe; he’s got no room to talk. 

“I’ll freeze.”

“I’ll walk close to you.”

With an exasperated sigh, the vet goes to pull on his boots. Why he gives into Ravio’s whims is a mystery. Certainly not because he likes him, or anything. 

The nighttime chill is enough to make him lunge for the safety of the house. 

“Oh no,” Ravio says, catching his hand. “Come on, buddy. We don’t have to go far.”

Legend is distracted from escape by the feel of his fingers twining in Ravio’s. If he rubbed his thumb, he could trace the merchant’s knuckle. He doesn’t. 

Ravio pulls him down the slope of the house and up the hill on the other side. He doesn’t let go of the vet’s hand, even when he slips. 

Panting, they both make it to the top. 

“Now look at this!” Ravio drops his hand and throws his arms wide, spinning in a circle. He’s a showman, through and through. 

Legend looks around. The faint moonlight sets the snow glittering. The air holds the unique smell of snow and winter; so hard to pin down. And overhead—

Oh. This is what Ravio wanted him to see. 

The sky is a blanket of stars; more than he normally sees. Maybe the cold of the air makes them more visible. Maybe he just appreciates them more when he’s freezing. 

The merchant moves right up behind him and wraps his arms around Legend, who stiffens. 

“Relax, you’re shivering.” Warm hands wrap over his chilled ones. “Look at it all. Isn’t it amazing?”

It is. Yet somehow, Legend finds himself focusing not on the sky, but on Ravio. His steady breaths against his back. The way his robe pools over their hands, keeping away the chill. 

The vet tilts his head back, resting it on Ravio’s shoulder. The merchant still stares at the stars. It could be a trick of the light, but they seem to reflect the sky. Constellations caught in his eyes, framed by long lashes. A world Legend could get lost in, if only he let himself. 

Ravio looks down, which isn’t very far with Legend’s head on his shoulder. “So? What do you think?” His breath is warm as it brushes the vet’s cheek. 

“It’s…beautiful.” Ravio is beautiful. And amazing, and caring, and charming. Annoying and stubborn in turns. Flawed, yet perfect in the imperfection. 

“I know some stories about the constellations. They were harder to see in Lorule, but we share some common ones. Did you know I chose my name from one of those tales?”

Only…Legend isn’t listening. He tuned out the words and focuses only on the merchant’s lips. Plush and full, pulled into a pretty pout as he realizes the vet isn't listening. 

Maybe it’s the stars glittering overhead. Maybe it’s the winter chill, pushing rational thought from his mind. Maybe Legend wanted this for a long time but never acted. 

Because when Ravio tilts his head closer to ask a question, Legend turns his head as well and captures his lips in a kiss. 

The merchant freezes. 

He’s not letting this stop him. Legend spins in his arms and grabs his shoulders. To keep him from fleeing? To pull him closer?

Then he presses their lips together again, gentler. 

Ravio…softens, molding his lips back. 

When Legend pulls back, the stars are caught in Ravio’s gaze. And maybe they’re caught in the vet’s too, because the merchant says, “I love you.”

This is what the stars must feel like to touch. Uncontainable, yet burning warm. Filled with magic and mystery. Beauty and home, all wrapped up in one. 

Legend leans in for another kiss and forgets about the cold. 

#ravioli propaganda continues #look it's not even wb #ravioli #loz ravio #albw ravio #ravio x link #raviolink #ravio zelda #lu ravio #ravio #linked universe ravio #ravio x legend #lu legend #linked universe legend #ravioli ship #albw #albw link #loz albw #breannasfluff #my writing #linkeduniverse #linked universe

[pennyellee]

CHAPTER IV - ustulation

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of God, blood, incision wound, fictive mafia clan traditions, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of death, overwhelming, violence, threats, intimate encounter, kissing

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 5,6K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III GAME OF GO CHAPTER V

ustulation (n.) a burning lust

In the hidden embrace of a secluded mountain valley, a village of hanoks stirred to life on a tranquil winter's morning. The air was crisp, a symphony of silence. The Song of the Dead toned down for some time.

The dawn’s gentle light bathed the valley, wisps of mist from the frost-kissed earth, adding an ethereal veil to the scenery she watched carefully from the closed window.

The majestic mountains, ancient pines and stoic rocks stood as sentinels of the valley's serenity. She could see them from this side of the house. Y/N sighed, holding a cup of tea in her two small hands, warming herself up on this chilly morning.

“Is something bothering you, my love?”

Yoongi had tried his hardest the past month to get under her skin. There were times when he thought perhaps, she would welcome him into her heart one day. However, her repeated escape attempts made him think otherwise. He was giving her the space she needed with carefulness in every action he took. The young leader knew well that she wouldn't be able to escape while they resided here, in the core of the village. That did not stop her though.

As if nature herself wished to bestow a gift upon him, the first snowflakes began to descend from the heavens just as they were returning from that unfortunate, eventful day in Seoul. The snowflakes floated gently, even now, like fragile dreams.

“Are you feeling well? You spent a lot of time in the snow yesterday.” He murmured after she didn’t grant him an answer to his previous question. They had to postpone the wedding as the snow and frost reigned, making it unsafe to pass through the tunnels. The passage was being cleared by workers for more than a week now. Time seemed to stand still as they absorbed the grace that enveloped their world.

“I feel fine,” she muttered back, not even looking his way at the table.

“I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?” He asked, demanding to speak to her.

“After all the stunts you pulled, you’re still free to roam around without anyone guarding you. Not speaking of the fact that I’m letting you sleep alone—” he was going on rumble.

The young leader is patient, but he longed for her more than ever. The fact that they’re still not newlyweds, and he cannot show love to every inch of her body, make her swell with his child, was frustrating him beyond repair. She had let her guard down once and allowed him to take the chance and kiss her on the cheek, startling her yet again.

“—you’re so blinded,” she said suddenly, turning back to face him.

“Excuse me?” said he, very surprised.

“You go on about how you’re good to me, how this is God’s doing, and that I should be grateful—” she threw her hands in the air, frustrated by his demanding nature.

While the leader thought he was granting her the time she needed, Y/N felt more and more anxious every day. Her heart is still itching to be free, yet she cannot stop thinking about what her selfishness would cause if she indeed managed to escape.

“Well maybe if you didn’t run every time, I tried to show you affection, I wouldn't have to remind you of all this.” He spat angrily, smashing the chopsticks on the table, standing up.

“I’m patient—” said he, getting closer to her standing form by the large windows. “—but I swear to God, you’ll disobey me again, and that’s where my hospitality ends, Y/N.”

“I just—” she stammered, making him stop in his attempt to close the distance between them. “I’m scared,” she whimpered. Y/N didn’t know why these words came out of her, nor why there were tears. All she felt was exhaustion.

The scarred leader’s expression softened. Is she finally confiding herself to him, opening up?

“My love…” He approached her, taking the cup from her shaking hands, putting it aside and lastly taking her face into his hands, his thumbs wiping her tears away.

“I can make you happy. You just have to let me in.” He whispered, moving his face closer to hers. Y/N knows they will cross the boundary sooner or later. The winter is making it impossible for her to both run away and survive. Should Y/N listen to her mother’s words and let him make her his queen? The older female’s proclamation circled her mind at night while listening to the cracking of wood in the fireplace.

“Please let me in, dove.” He pleaded again, his eyes filled with sincerity and longing.

And once she nodded her head in approval, he didn’t hesitate to press his lips softly against hers. Time stood still, and the world around them faded into a blur of insignificance. Their hearts pounded in sync for a brief moment. She felt a warmth she couldn't admit, even to herself. Y/N wanted to hate him so much. Despite her inner conflict, she could sense the unspoken longings from his side, his desire to deepen the kiss carefully without overwhelming her. He wished to never let her go and feared that she would vanish in his hold. His lips were tender and tentative, like the brush of a butterfly's wings upon a fragile petal. Y/N knows he is holding himself back. The kiss was addictive, momentarily lifting the burden from her chest.

As he went to slide his hands on the swell of her heart-shaped bottom, a sudden cough interrupted the intimate moment. Y/N quickly pulled away, feeling shame and embarrassment wash over her caused by the sudden intrusion. She stole a single glance at the man standing by the door, grinning mischievously. Her cheeks turned crimson as she felt shy and exposed, but the young leader kept holding her in his embrace, not letting her go so soon after their first shared kiss.

Smiling like a teenager, he said: “What’s going on Hoseok-shi.” Y/N could imagine he is smiling widely as she had observed when she apologised to him for hitting his head with the stone. He waved it off quickly stating ‘I would be a fool to not forgive my new sister.’ She pretended not to be affected by his words, but it made the man she was to marry smile even more mischievously.

“I need to speak to you, and Y/N should get ready for Hyung’s wedding,” Hoseok said, his eyes gleaming with some secret knowledge.

Y/N exchanged a puzzled glance with Hoseok before nodding and extracting herself from the young leader's embrace, her cheeks still flushed from the kiss. Uncertainty hung in the air as Yoongi let Y/N go and walk away, admiring her graceful figure.

“What?” Yoongi asked, turning his attention to his trusted friend, who wore a smirk that hinted at hidden amusement.

“Nothing,” Hoseok replied, still smiling under his nose.

“Shall we?” Yoongi said, collecting himself and walking towards his brother.

“You won’t fancy what news I bring, brother.”

Silk banners fluttered in the breeze, announcing the joyous union to all who ventured near. The bride, a vision of grace and elegance, is adorned in a hanbok of flowing silk and intricate embroidery.

The groom, dressed in the timeless attire of a traditional hanbok, stood tall and resolute. His eyes fixed unwaveringly upon his beloved, as though she embodied the very essence of his being — a force that fuelled his heart.

Amidst the enchanting spectacle of celebration, the weight of tradition resonated with each uttered word.

The outside picture portrayed the unbreakable bonds of family and the beauty of two souls finding solace in one another. Y/N, however, couldn’t help but have a feeling that the poor girl the doctor was marrying did not find herself at the altar because of true love but fearful coercion. It reminded her of her circumstances — a pawn in a larger scheme.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow upon the snow-covered land, Y/N sat beside her to-be husband, observing his unusual joy. Accordingly. Today, one of his brothers was finally taking a wife and his bride in a momentary vulnerability that had allowed him to share a tender kiss with her, amplifying his joy to an even greater extent.

Her ears perked up once she heard the celebration of the union before her. She couldn't resist side-eyeing the other brothers she had encountered over the past month, and her gaze locked with Kim Namjoon, Kkangpae’s right-hand man.

Y/N remembers Kim Namjoon. His piercing, cold gaze bore into her soul, especially so during one of her escape attempts, when he forcefully brought her back to the main house, reprimanding her for disobedience.

‘I can either give up my life to save you or I can be your enemy Y/N.’ Namjoon had warned her on a night when she sought solace near the fireplace in Yoongi's office, wrapped in blankets to warm herself even more. She was rarely allowed in this sacred room unless her actions demanded attention.

That night, Yoongi was dealing with business matters. He came back to the main house to her shivering and crying form. It is breaking his heart every time he sees her in such a state but simultaneously, he wishes she would cross the border of submissiveness and obey him.

Y/N ignored his warning just yesterday when she attempted to run away again. Hence, the gaze. If she was afraid of his next steps, she wouldn’t let him decipher that.

She snapped out of her mind as Yoongi rose from his seat, taking her hand to help her up. Y/N looked at him with a mixture of confusion and concern. He gently nudged her behind him, positioning himself as a protective shield. She looked around her, seeing that everyone else was still seated. Their looks show emotions —excitement, joy, and pride.

Her confusion heightened when Yoongi began unbuttoning her fur coat that was hiding her long red qipao, and panic swelled within her.

"What are you doing?!” She whispered in distress.

“Behave.” He whispered back to her, leaving the coat open revealing her breasts and tummy.

Leaving her standing close to him, he held her hand tightly, as if afraid she might flee at any moment. Y/N noticed that Namjoon's attention had shifted to Seokjin's new bride. The bride's trembling form approached them, and Y/N observed the gleaming knife in Seokjin's hand, quickly realizing what was about to happen.

It whispered promises of power, of secrets that could be revealed with a single stroke, but it also carried the weight of consequences and a toll on the bearer's conscience. As the girl's hand was carefully sliced with the knife, Y/N couldn't help but empathize with her pain. Her father had a similar tradition; however, women weren’t involved; she was still left in the dark about her role in all this.

The girl then knelt, extending her bloodied hand toward the leader, reciting her pledge of loyalty to Kkangpae Min. Yoongi covered her hand with his other one, acknowledging her devotion and signaling for her to continue with the moving tradition.

The leader then used his left hand to guide Y/N forward, leaving her yet again puzzled and bewildered. A moment later, she gasped with shock as she felt the girl's bloodied hand touch her lower belly. Yoongi held her firmly in place, preventing any instinctual step back.

"I, with my blood, pledge my loyalty to you, Min Buin. Blessed be the fruit of your future legacy, Kkangpae Min," the girl recited, her words carrying both reverence and a touch of melancholy. The significance of the moment and the responsibility it bestowed upon Y/N left her grappling with a maelstrom of emotions.

“Well you handled that well,” a voice came from behind her, and Y/N turned to find Namjoon standing there, watching her by the fireplace in Yoongi's office. She had been curious when he would approach her, knowing that Yoongi had gone to check if the tunnels were passable.

Y/N couldn't quite discern the tone of Namjoon's remark—whether it held irony or genuine praise. Such was the enigmatic nature of this man.

“I suppose,” she muttered, hugging herself for comfort.

“I personally thought you’d slap her hand off. Such an act would undoubtedly stir up trouble,” said he as he settled down in one of the armchairs.

Her mind replayed the events of the pledge, and she confessed truthfully, “I was too shocked to do so.” The new bride's pledge of loyalty to her and her empty womb had caught her off guard, leaving her uneasy.

“Your father is not demanding newcomers to pledge loyalty?” He asked, curious about their inner circle practices. She smirked, sensing his attempt to pry.

“Yes, but not to my mother,” she revealed.

“You hold an important position within our ranks,” the right-hand man noted. “And that, my dear, is why we are having this little conversation.” Y/N looked up, finding him extending a glass filled with what she presumed to be rice wine or soju.

“I genuinely want to be your friend Y/N—” he said while passing the glass to her. “But you’re very hard to please, princess,” he exclaimed.

“By ‘wanting to be my friend’, you mean the part when you threaten me again,” she retorted with a scoff, alluding to his past warnings.

“That is a necessary evil,” he conceded. “But on a serious note, Y/N,” he drew closer, taking a seat slightly further away to grant her personal space, “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” she asked, feeling dumbfounded by his question.

"Is life here truly so terrible that all you can think of is escape?" he sighed, genuinely curious about her state of mind.

“Not all I can think of—” she began, trying to defend herself.

"Oh, so you did not attempt to escape just a day ago, and two days before that, and so on," he interjected, pointing out her recent attempts.

“What do you want to hear from me Namjoon?” she countered, feeling the pressure of his questioning.

“Hoseok hyung overheard your conversation,” he finally gave away the one piece of information he sought to address “What are you afraid of?”

Y/N gazed into the dancing flames, his words echoing in her mind. Memories of the recent kiss with Yoongi and the ensuing events flooded her thoughts. She felt her spirit on the brink of collapse, her attempts to escape repeatedly thwarted, causing harm to others in the process. Y/N was exhausted.

“I suppose I expected my life to take a different trajectory than this,” she admitted, reflecting on her circumstances.

“I can assure you that this will be the best that ever happened to you—” Namjoon insisted, trying to be reassuring.

“And that, Namjoon, is where my disbelief lies,” she interrupted him, peering straight into his eyes. He sighed, running a hand across his face, expressing a sense of frustration mixed with genuine concern.

“You didn’t give it a chance!” He raised his voice, unable to hide his emotions. He wanted this clan to function as it did for countless years and what’s more, he wanted his hyung to be happy.

“I’m going to ask you once again, and I want the truth,” he implored, trying to get to the heart of the matter. “What are you so scared of?”

Y/N decided to remain silent, knowing that her response would likely incite further frustration from him. "Is it sex?" he suddenly asked, shocking her with his explicitness. "Are you scared to be punished for your sins?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she returned his rage, denying his accusation.

“Am I?” he continued probing.

“Yes, Namjoon! You are! You think I’m this shallow?!” she lashed out.

“No, but all you let us see is the shallow version of you. Apart from this morning,” he declared, referring to a rare moment of vulnerability she had shown.

“And it wasn’t meant for anybody to hear nor see that,” she snapped back at him.

“I understand your reasoning, Y/N. But we’re your family now, you don’t have to shield yourself against us,” he pleaded, hoping to break down her walls.

“He loves you, Y/N,” Namjoon continued, trying to make her see the sincerity in Yoongi's feelings.

“That’s very hard to believe too.” She remarked, still sceptical, looking right through his eyes. He took a deep breath, lifting his hand to touch his face.

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he proposed, catching her by surprise and piquing her interest.

“About?” She asked, curiously.

“Give it a year,” said the right-hand man. By making a deal with her, he is going behind the back of his leader and, even more importantly — his dearest friend. Nevertheless, he felt obligated to do this for him.

"If you're still 'scared' of whatever you say you are, and this is not the life you'll be comfortable living, I'll personally see to it that you'll be transported to America," he promised, leaving her momentarily speechless.

“What is the catch?” Y/N wasn't naive. She knew there must be some ulterior motive.

"You'll stop being a flight risk. If you attempt to run again, the deal is off, and I will personally eliminate each person foolish enough to aid you since your arrival—one by one, ending with your cousin," he stated, laying out the condition.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she absorbed his chilling words. Her mind raced as she contemplated her choices. "That's the only condition?" she asked, ensuring she understood the terms before giving her answer.

"Well, naturally, I expect you to genuinely give it a chance, meaning that you will accept Hyung as your husband, leader, and lover," he emphasized the last noun, urging her to take his words seriously. Y/N stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts together.

“This is a one time offer Y/N. I won’t be this generous again,” he added. She struggled to read him, but she couldn’t. Namjoon was well known for being unpredictable — a quality that made him a perfect fit as the right-hand man. No one could ever say with certainty what his next move would be.

“Fine,” she finally relented, her voice barely a whisper. Namjoon extended his hand, sealing the deal with a firm shake. He leaned in closer to Y/N.

“I trust that you’ll be on your best behaviour from now on.” He whispered to her. There were so many emotions in her eyes right now that she was working hard to process. She barely nodded and averted her gaze down. Y/N couldn’t bear to look into his intimidating eyes no more.

“Very well,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on her. “The tunnels have been cleared, and the wedding will take place this week." He told her.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the impending wedding. She was praying that perhaps she has more time to think of what to do with her situation. According to Seokjin, who came to visit and spent some time on occasion with her when his leader could not, the tunnels wouldn’t be cleared out until the end of December, giving her another month in total.

“Brother!” exclaimed Namjoon suddenly, breaking her train of thought. Y/N followed his gaze to the sliding door, where Yoongi stood, undoing the cufflinks of his shirt, the suit jacket already gone. "I was just telling Y/N the good news," Namjoon smiled at him.

Throughout this month, Y/N observed the strong brotherhood among Yoongi's most trusted and closest men. The deepest connection Yoongi shared was undoubtedly with Namjoon, which explained why he was the right-hand man.

Yoongi displayed a particularly protective nature towards his younger brothers. She had yet to meet Jungkook, the youngest, who had been recently assigned as captain of the front unit, as she overheard. On the other hand, Jimin was more involved in the open, managing the front business and whatever lay beneath it. The Chosen Hotel was highly popular among Koreans but was eagerly open to international guests too. Y/N suspected that the true core of the business was settled elsewhere, and she was eager to uncover it.

Seokjin, recently married, primarily served as the inner family's doctor. However, the Min clan also faced a shortage of actual medical staff like, so he had to run between the sanctuary, as she had learnt this place was called, and a front hospital.

Taehyung remained a mystery to her, despite seeing him in family pictures and hearing Yoongi mention him occasionally. He was supposed to represent the law in Yoongi's business dealings, ensuring the safety and legitimacy of their operations, including the handling of illegal earnings. Therefore, Taehyung is the safety pin of this organization. Whomever fucks up, he is there to defend them.

And lastly, Hoseok, a surprising contrast of joy and darkness. Y/N was taken aback that such a buoyant personality could be involved in such sinister activities. He was the arsonist who also took care of assassinations. Additionally, the clan engaged in money laundering, and Hoseok was responsible for collecting debts, often involuntarily.

Her eyes swelled with tears she was refusing to let out. Yoongi’s eyes met Y/N's, and she could see a mixture of concern and worry flicker across his face. A silent understanding passed between them, and they knew that they would need to have a private conversation later.

“Well, it seems you two need more privacy,” said Namjoon while he was collecting himself from the cushion he was sitting on.

“Did Tae call?” Yoongi asked before Namjoon could leave. “He did before Hyung’s wedding, to send his good wishes and—” he gazed over to Y/N who was carefully listening to their conversation, hanging on every word.

“—and?” Yoongi asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, a sight she had seen far too often for her liking. He was not shy with her; he could easily undress before her without a second thought. His attempts to walk in on her while she was changing didn't go unnoticed either, though she made sure to show her displeasure by throwing vases at him to keep him out.

Only now did Y/N remember the glass of alcoholic beverage that Namjoon had offered her, remaining untouched in her hands. She decided to take a sip, trying to ease her nerves before the conversation she was dreading.

“—and everything went well, as expected,” said Namjoon observing her as she downed the burning soju.

“Send telegraph to Wang and other families. We’re leaving for Chosen in two hours.” Y/N straightened herself, eyes wide open in disbelief.

“W-what do you mean in two hours?” She stammered. It was just past eight when she gazed at the clock on the wall. That would mean they'd depart at ten and arrive in Seoul around midnight.

"—I thought they just cleared the way. Why are we—" Yoongi cut her off abruptly. "I am waiting no more," he said firmly, locking his gaze with hers, leaving her in shock once again.

"On your way, please inform the maids to pack, and I want the cabin ready," Yoongi instructed Namjoon, who memorised every task with a sense of responsibility, seemingly disregarding Y/N's shattered spirit in the wake of this sudden rush.

“Can we at least talk about it?!” she raised her voice, causing the two men to stop in their tracks. They exchanged knowing looks, making it clear that this was non-negotiable. Yoongi clicked his tongue, biting his cheeks from inside, then turned to face his fiancée with a deceptive sweetness in his tone.

"Of course, my love," he said.

He nodded to Namjoon, who immediately took off, glancing at Y/N with a silent reminder to behave.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked nonchalantly as if this were a perfectly normal scenario.

“I don’t know, do you think this is right?” Y/N kept her tone tense, signalling her discontent.

“Nothing is more right than this,” he answered, pouring himself a drink while taking her empty glass and refilling it with soju.

"Yoongi—" she began to protest, but he didn't let her speak further, having heard her excuses countless times.

“No Y/N. I’m not negotiating this time. We’re getting married tomorrow afternoon and that’s final,” he stated sternly.

"You could at least wait a day! Do you think everyone will just jump because you said it's happening right now? And more importantly, let me mentally prepare for it?!” Her frustration grew, and she gestured wildly, almost knocking over the refilled glass that Yoongi handed her.

“They are already in town. The telegraph is just a confirmation that it will happen tomorrow.” Her distress and panic were understandable; she had believed she had more time than a few hours.

“And you didn’t think of telling me first?!” she raised her voice even higher. That she was in distress and panic was very understandable. Y/N thought she had more time than a few hours.

“No, because you were finally letting me in—” said he, downing the contents of his glass in one go.

“You knew this would happen for a month, and you would have had more time to prepare yourself if running away fifteen hundred times a day wouldn’t be on your mind,” he fired back, raising his voice at her, and immediately asserting dominance.

"I'm getting very tired of this. One step forward and ten million miles back, damn it!" he cursed, slamming the glass down on his desk in frustration. The tension in the room was palpable, and Y/N felt her heart sinking as she realized that her hopes of a slower pace for their relationship had been shattered.

“I have a very easy solution to that—” she said, raising herself to stand up to him.

“—Let me go,” she emphasized every single word, her frustration boiling over, and momentarily forgetting about her deal with Namjoon.

Her emotions were running high, and she went to pull the ring off to prove her point, but he forcefully grabbed her right hand, stopping her in her tracks. Anger filled his eyes as he crossed his other hand, grabbed her by the back of her neck, and crashed his lips onto hers, pressing their bodies against the nearest wall. He didn't give her a chance to catch her breath as he passionately bruised her lips.

He let go of her hand once he was sure she wouldn't resist. With his now free hand, he lifted her leg, wrapping it around his waist, squeezing her ass cheek, making her yelp and by that creating an opening to slip his tongue into her mouth. Y/N had no idea how long their intimate encounter lasted, but she could feel her head spinning from the lack of oxygen. Just as she managed to stop his other hand from slipping under her dress, aiming for her pulsing heat, he parted from her, both of them breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” he apologised, his eyes fixed on her now swollen lips. Y/N was taken aback, her head still spinning, and she couldn't think straight. He had such a powerful effect on her, and this aspect of life was entirely new to her, having been kept away from such experiences.

"I wish, —" he started, nibbling at her lower lip while he continued to speak, "—you would acknowledge my love for you." Yoongi kissed her again, not giving her a chance to recover or speak up, moaning softly into her lips.

"We are too close. I will never give you up.” he declared, wiping her tears away gently.

“I can’t have you running though—” he leaned into lavish attention on her neck, placing butterfly kisses up to her jaw and stopping at her lips again—

"I'll overlook this lapse of senses if you keep up this good behaviour, my love, but the next time you disobey me, I won't only discipline you; someone will lose their head.”

She trembled against him, feeling lost, scared, and vulnerable. Her breath hitched as she tried to speak up. Yoongi was beyond himself for getting her into this state where she didn’t dare to oppose his words and stopped fighting him. If she won’t let him in willingly, he will force her to open up to him.

“I told you to not take that ring off your finger ever again.” She remembers the words he uttered to her in the garden where he proposed to her. That she agreed still feels surreal to her. Running got her nowhere, but she still had a selfish feeling inside her that he was bluffing and wouldn’t dare to seriously hurt anybody.

“Now be a good girl and apologise for disobeying me.” He tightened his grip at her waist, finally staring right into her teary eyes. Y/N felt lost, scared and vulnerable. Her lips were trembling, and her breath hitched again once she opened her mouth to speak.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby, just say it.” He cooed, lifting his hand to caress her cheek gently.

“I-I am sorry,” she finally sobbed. If there was one thing the scarred boy excelled at, it was getting his way. He smiled at her, pleased with her response.

He smiled at her. “That’s more like it, baby.”

Y/N longed to curl up in her small apartment, where she resided while studying at college. She desperately wished she could turn back time.

“I have something for you,” he said suddenly, looking for any sign of curiosity from her. Yoongi stepped away to his desk, leaving her pressed against the wall, hesitant to move an inch. He opened one of his drawers and pulled out an envelope. Y/N couldn't make out the handwriting, but her eyes widened as she recognised it.

“Your aunt entrusted me with this letter when we came to the conclusion that you should be mine one day,” he said, holding the envelope in his hands. Y/N desperately wished that the answer and a solution to her fears would be contained in that envelope. She was mulling over the platform of this match-making her aunt orchestrated.

Wang Xiaoqing very much upheld the meaning of her name in the time she lived. Blessed with intelligence. And she was a fearless mafia wife who brought pride to her late husband. There are other intriguing things about Y/N’s beloved auntie. Xiaoqing is by far the only member in her large family tree that married for love. Y/N admired her aunt and, perhaps, seeing that it was possible to marry for love, made her blindly believe she could also have the freedom to choose her partner.

She dreamt of a little house in the woods, not far from a lake or a small town. Growing some goods in the garden, by night sitting near the fireplace, the love of her life holding her. She would work in a nearby hospital, or study overseas to become a doctor were all part of her fever dream. She knew it was unlikely to come true, given her family's ties to the syndicate.

But she could least dream about it. For a moment, when she was on the ferry to Jeju Island, she thought she would make it. Y/N knew the risk she was taking once she entrusted her well-being to Chan-yeol. She knew his role was insignificant and not a threat to any syndicate and it wouldn’t certainly attract Yakuza, but she was also aware that he could have been the only one to send her to the far land. She believed that God chose this path for her instead of being an arm jewel to some Yakuza brute.

Reality snapped her back from her swirling thoughts as he put the envelope back in the drawer.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked, taking a step forward.

“I will give it to you—” he promised “and tell you everything you want to know—” locking the drawer with a key.

“—After you’ll walk the aisle to me, without any of your misfits,” he finished his sentence.

"To strengthen your cooperation for tomorrow, I'm having your cousin and her husband at gunpoint during the ceremony," he added, making her scream in protest.

"I won't do anything stupid," she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Just let them be, please. They have little son, Yoongi.”

“I know, that’s why they are the perfect bargain to make you obedient. If this doesn't work, you still have other family members—," Y/N couldn't bear it any longer; she closed the distance between them, standing just inches away from him.

“If you would love me—” she started but before she could finish, he grabbed her waist and pulled her even closer, pressing his body against hers. She could feel his torso and lower body. He bowed down next to her ear.

“I’ll stop this necessary coercion when you’ll learn your place, my love.”

Yoongi loved making her squirm and overwhelm her. He was basking in the effect he had on her. The fact that she will be his wife in less than twelve hours was a source of satisfaction for him.

“You were my woman for a long time now, and you will be my woman till death do us apart.”

I N T E R L O G U E

“—And you’re certain that the man is on his way to Seoul.” The leader inquired of his trusted friend and partner, seated in the quiet confines of his home office.

“Yes,” Hoseok affirmed with a nod.

"Is there any additional information that I need to be aware of?” Yoongi's voice carried a hint of tension, his teeth gritted in anger.

"As of now, there's nothing more to report," the younger male replied, keeping the conversation concise.

“Do you want me to eliminate him?” Hoseok offered, waiting for his leader's command.

“Not just yet, I was hoping to have the pleasure myself.”

to be continued

author’s note: so here we are at chapter IV!! ♥ Thank you all so much for for sticking around chummers ♥ They kissed and much moreee!!! We'll see what we'll happen next. I hereby promise to post the chapter sooner than the end of Semptember, or I hope so xD Tho I have some wips to write and if I'll finish some then I'll post something new too ♥

Massive shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter!

Love you!!!!

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love,

𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

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#bts #bts fic #yandere yoongi #yandere bts #yandere namjoon #soft yandere #mafia au #yandere seokjin #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #hard yandere #yandere #yandere kpop #yandere taehyung #mafia bts #lacrimosa #myg angst #dark!yoongi #min yoongi x y/n #bts x you #yoongi smut #haegeum #suga x you #suga x y/n #suga x reader #historical au #bts historical au #bts yandere au #fic:lacrimosa

[falmerbrook]

Snow Elf culture?

*pulls up a chair*

Perhaps...

A wee disclaimer that I'm not particularly good or creative with developing cultures or societies, but my brain has just latched on to the snow elves in a way where I can't stop myself. But anyway

I developed a lot of this because of a big ass draft for a fic I've been writing on and off about Gelebor and Vyrthur, so a lot of my headcanons are religion heavy. I'll start there:

Gelebor seems to place Auri-El and the Chantry of Auri-El as having significant importance to the Snow Elves over the other gods/temples. He's probably got a bit of bias in that regard since he's devoted his life to Auri-El, but in order to differentiate their religion from the other elven ones I like to think that their religion in general worshipped Auri-El as not even just as the figure head of their pantheon, but almost monotheistical, while the other gods (Trinimac, Syrabane, Jephre and Phynaster according to Gelebor) were like minor divine figures or just legendary heroes even more than in Altmer myth, depending on the interpretation. My idea is that if their culture had been allowed to continue on, it would've eventually become monotheistic, but by the arrival of the Nords they were in a bit of an awkward transition period with it.

I also like to lean into the sun motif with Auri-El that they established in Dawnguard and with Auriel's Bow, partially because it's another thing to make their depiction of him more unique, and in part because it makes some very juicy irony for Vyrthur. Some ideas include:

- The more religious folk tend to pray at noon when the sun is at it's highest. - The two biggest snow elf festivals happen on the summer and winter solstices. As far north as they are, the summer solstice is during a time of year where the sun barely sets and the winter one is during a time of year where it barely rises. The summer one is more jovial and celebratory, with a grand feast. With almost 24 hours of daylight, the festivities last up to three days straight, with folks commonly staying awake for over 24 hours. Most of it is spent outside, with the celebration being focused on making the most of the weather and daylight hours to spend as much time in the sun and the light of Auri-El as possible. The winter festival is as large scale but lasts longer and is lower-key. It also involves a feast but features more winter foods and meat and alcohol. It is more pensive. At this point in the year, there is no full daylight, and so this season is seen as a test of one’s faith and mental fortitude. This festival acts as a break from this trying time, taking time to relax, build community (a strong community will allow them to make it through the winter and strengthen their minds), and bond with family and friends. It is about a weeklong break, where leading up to the festival everyone works harder to prepare for it and allow themselves to have the break. There are activities and festivities, but they remain indoors for the most part and are smaller. - I've referenced this before, but with long winters with little sunlight (due to harsh weather and short days), they see that time of year as a reflective test of will and faith.

Due to their proximity to dragons, it was hard to miss the connection between Auri-El (/Akatosh) and dragons, and so their depiction of Auri-El is either much more influenced by the iconography of dragons, or is a dragon (although their depiction of dragon Auri-El is much more benevolent than the Nord/Atmoran one). I got the idea for this one from this Reddit post (i know I dog on Reddit a lot but this one has got some fun stuff in it, even if it's a bit out there)

^On that note, later in the timeline (post Dragon War (the timeline is very fuzzy on when this and the Night of Tear happens. They are both sometime vaguely in the late Merethic Era I believe, but it's unclear which happens first or how long each conflict is)) some Snow Elves see a sort of unreturned, unofficial comradery with dragons, seeing themselves as both on the receiving end of the Nord's/Atmoran's brutality (disregarding whether it was warranted or not in the context of the Dragon War).

Ok here's some more general cultural ones:

I mentioned my reasoning for this in this post, but I like to think their general settlements were not as permanent, with a larger focus on wood and building into the sides of hills (good for warmth), while their temples tended to be made of stone and much more permanent. This is why there are so few identifiable Snow Elf ruins across Skyrim. Their cities and towns were easy to wipe out, scavenged for resources, or were in good places for Nordic cities (perhaps Bromjunaar was originally the site of a Snow Elf city?), and their temples were either very hidden (e.g. the Chantry of Auri-El) or eventually converted to Nordic temples.

I love this journal in general for gleaning ideas for Snow Elf headcanons for, but one interesting this is the use of "Old Ones" and "Young One". They're treated like established titles. From that I like to think they place a lot of emphasis on the respect of those older than you. The social hierarchy and whose opinions are most valued is heavily influenced by age. Folks call anyone older or more revered “Old Ones” as a term of respect, and anyone younger than them “Young Ones”. Old One is almost never used in a demeaning way, but Young One can be (not always). Typically, “Old Ones” is used in the third person (e.g. you wouldn’t refer to someone directly as “old one”) whole “Young One(s)” can be used as an epithet for someone directly or in third person.

When thinking about death/"burial" customs (needed for some scenes in the fic I'm planning), you have to consider that there probably wasn't a lot of land in a place like Skyrim where someone can be buried. Nords intern their dead in crypts or burn them to get around this, and I like to think Snow Elves participated in something akin to sky burials (at least sometimes). After preparation, the departed's body is left outside on a ledge, cliff, or the temple balcony to be scavenged by birds. This is seen as a metaphorical return to Aetherius, while their soul literally returns to it. They do this even in poor weather or deep winter. If it doesn’t thaw and rot/be scavenged until months later, so be it. The length it takes to rot is considered indicative of how long it takes for the spirit to let go and move on (not in a bad way though. It’s interpreted more in the way of the soul or body grieving). It's seen as if they may wish to wait until spring to finally rot if they want to experience one more warm, sunny day.

Food (I mostly wrote this in my notes in the context of the Forgotten Vale and Chantry of Auri-El, but I think it could work elsewhere as well to an extent): Plant-based food is grown in gardens in the spring and summer, and that that is able to be stored is carefully preserved through the fall and winter. Winter foods include some nuts, dried vegetables, and dried and preserved/fermented grains (like wheat, barely). These foods must be eaten slowly throughout the winter to last, and winter diets are more meat based. Summer foods include apples, cabbage/lettuce, leeks, tomatoes etc. Snowberries can be found in the wild out of season of most other fruits, and provide fruit in very early spring. Occasionally, fungus from caves is harvested, but this is seen as a delicacy (foreshadowing).

Ok, that's it for now. I gotta go to bed. Thanks for the ask!!!! :D

#charlie its always sunny in philadelphia voice 'can we talk about falmer please ive been dying to talk about falmer all day' #mine #ask #tes #skyrim #the elder scrolls #snow elf #snow elves #reading my notes doc while making this and i was really cooking on some things. didnt include them all becasue some are very specific for #that fic i keep referencing #like i had to try to elaborate on the religious hierarchies and duties of each position because that was obviously gonna be relevant #but its sorta half baked rn #also i want to have some more headcanons for later in case someone asks again :)

[violetpixiedust]

something angsty tonight for steve x sinclair!reader. no descriptions of hair, skin tone, or body type however. up to interpretation. season!one steve vibes.

part 02

౨ৎ

“this was a mistake..”

steve awoke from the sound of his own voice with a trembling start, shooting up from the frigid comfort of his bedsheets as he choked on his own gasp. salty tears began to burn within the corners of his twin black eyes, causing the sun kissed boy to wince painfully at the ache of his broken nose, wearily coming to in the dim outdoor pool lighting that seeped into his dark bedroom.

he hadn’t meant it. he really hadn’t.

he was such an idiot.

weighted flakes of ivory delicately fluttered down to the thin layer of snow currently blanketing the small town of hawkins. the warm, multi-coloured lights that decorated the outside of the sinclair home twinkled throughout the washed lavender night sky, contributing to the neighbourhood’s holiday cheer. inside, frank sinatra’s “merry little christmas” echoed throughout the home as the record spun along the glossy sage turn table in the downstairs den. mrs. sinclair was currently abusing the family video copy of dirty dancing for the fourth time that week while mr. sinclair was on a business trip in tokyo, a glass of white wine in her soft grasp. the crackle of lucas’s walkie talkie echoed throughout the upstairs hallway from his open bedroom, dustin’s lispy voice excitedly talking about their plans for christmas break that started the day after tomorrow. erica’s voice echoed from the study down the hall, gossiping with tina about the students in their fifth grade class.

you usually loved the romantic atmosphere of hawkins in the wintertime. each shop along downtown’s strip sparkled from the glow of their christmas lights, while each lamppost was decorated with a wreath or large red bows. the rush of skipping class to sled down the vast hills near the trailer park, the freezing satisfaction of seeing your snow angel’s reflection. drinking hot cocoa after skating across the icy lake, cuddling up by the fire as billie holiday soothingly serenaded you in her alto pitched voice. then, all of a sudden, george michael brought you to your feet, causing you to giggle and tumble to the floor with your friends as the lot of you tripped over your dance moves, landing in front of the half decorated christmas tree in heaps of tangled limbs and laughter.

however, you were currently cuddled in your soft cream coloured pyjama set, soaking into the small semblance of warmth that your light pink sheets and duvet provided. your makeup bled into your pillowcases as you thought about what steve had said to you earlier that day at school, a wave of embarrassment and nausea coursing through you once more, causing you to half-choke on the tears that dripped down your throat, straining to be silent.

you didn’t want anybody to hear you.

steve trembled on your door step, unbeknownst to you, clutching onto a bouquet of roses he had managed to snag from the mini mart on his way to your home just before the shop had closed. his light grey jacket did nothing to protect him from the icy chill of winter in hawkins, the tears by his eyes stinging with each whip of below zero air. shakily, his bruised fingers managed to ring the doorbell, gulping when he heard your mother’s slippered footsteps echo from the other side of the door. fuck, he should have expected this-

“steve? oh my- honey, what happened-?” steve felt more than embarrassed in front of your mother at that moment in time. you hadn’t even told her what happened. were you even home? he simply sniffled, pinching his nose unconsciously to prevent himself from sobbing, hissing once he remembered what had happened to it. “steve, my love, come in-“ steve avoided the elder woman’s kind eyes- so akin to yours, as she pulled his limp body into the doorway, a shiver crawling up his spine when the heat of the sinclair home hit his icy cheeks, causing them to flush a vibrant shade of red. “sweethea-?” your mother sounded confused, hesitant even, her kind voice tilted to the staircase. the elder boy at the door kept his sore gaze glued onto his nikes, noticing the speckles of blood there from when he had been punched.

“what are you doing here?” it wasn’t until he had heard your soprano voice that steve’s head unconsciously snapped up to look at you, stood at the middle of the staircase. his fail safe expression softened at the smudged mascara and messy lipstick stain that riddled your doll like features. your plush lips parted with a gasp, with concern, almost as if you had forgotten that you said you were done with him earlier this afternoon.

that you hated him.

to be fair, he hated himself too.

“m-mom, c-could you please grab the first-aid kit?” your usually bubbly and airy voice was now raspy, sore, as if you had been sobbing the whole afternoon, stuttering like you were scared of him now. steve quickly averted his gaze back to his shoes as your mother looked between you both, roses limp within his grasp as they practically kissed the floor. your mother cleared her throat lightly without a word, mumbling a “my gosh” under her breath as she quickly climbed up the stairs to retrieve the kit.

he followed your bunny slippers to the kitchen, wordlessly sitting down at the kitchen table as you prepared a wash cloth sacrifice. steve winced as your mother half-carelessly plopped the kit onto the wooden table top next to his cellophane wrapped apology, immediately giving you a kiss on the head as she murmured something into your ear that he couldn’t make out.

steve felt sick.

once your mother had left the kitchen, dirty dancing raised in volume as it played from the living room at the opposite end of the house. you carefully sat atop the table in front of him, and steve felt the blood pound through his ear drums, breath hitching as your manicured hand gently cupped his chin, as if he were made of glass, as if you didn’t hate him like you promised you did, tilting it up so he would look at you.

your doe eyes watched him carefully for a moment, studying him, almost reluctantly which caused the pit in his stomach to deepen, before you raised the worn washcloth to his face, pausing as if silently communicating “this will sting.”

and steve hoped that his expression whispered back. “i deserve it.”

unfortunately, the weighted silence between you two couldn’t have prepared him for the searing pain that bloomed from the middle of his face, grunting out a wince as you quickly pulled back, apologetic. as if any of this had been your fault.

jesus, what was wrong with him?

“i-i’m sorry.” steve finally broke, finally being able to look you in the eye. he hated the sight of crystal beginning to blur your wide pupils, sniffling as he grabbed your hand with both of his bruised ones before you could pull away, engulfing it as he held it to his chest, wheezing. “i’m so fucking sorry, angel. please-“ finally, the dam broke, his guilt finally bubbling over as he sobbed unabashedly, his long chestnut locks forming paint strokes over his eyes as he held your hand to his mouth, placing kiss after kiss onto your knuckles as he weeped. “i didn’t mean it-“

warm tears free fell from your waterline, burning against the soft skin of your cheeks that had been rubbed raw with denial after denial after denial, stinging on the way down as mascara clumped your lashes. you sniffle, an awful, wet sound filling the kitchen that you would have giggled embarrassedly at had you not been so hurt by the boy in front of you. how could he have done what he did today if he loved you? how could he have spoken to you that way?

“steve-“ you whimper, hoping that your family couldn’t hear you over their collective noise, hoping they wouldn’t walk in to see your resolve breaking beneath steve’s heartbreaking gaze. your voice fell into a pleading whisper. “steve, please let go-“

“no!” steve gasped, desperately falling to his knees along the tile with a screech of his chair, wrapping his strong arms around your calves, nearly skin to skin as his cheek pressed into your knees, staining your cream lounge pants with wet scarlet. “please, baby. i’ll do anything. please- please don’t let me go, please.” you realized then that your delicate fingers were threaded through steve’s silky strands, instinctive. you heard him sniffle, whispering heartbreakingly under his breath as he hugged your lower half tightly, as if you’d disappear beneath his fingertips. “please don’t leave, please don’t leave, please don’t leave..”

you bit your bottom lip harshly, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth as you watched the boy you love break in front of you. the sight of his beautiful face blotched with plum, burgundy, and olive made your heart weep. you pushed your trembling fingers through his hair, lightly scratching behind his ears as your thumbs rubbed his temples. instantly he shuddered, broad shoulders practically dropping to the floor as he relaxed under your touch, arms however only tightening around you. “stevie, baby,” he whimpered at the nickname, fearing the worst as your soprano voice sweetened, nearly replicating the tone you had used when you first met him all those months ago, kind and angelic. “you gotta get up for me. i need to clean you up-“

“no.” steve’s bambi gaze glimmered with tears, rubbed raw as shades of pink peaked through the whites of his eyes when he stared up at you. “no, please. i deserve it. baby, i deserve it, please just- just say you didn’t mean it when you said you hated me.” steve whimpered as he pleaded. “please.” his bass voice was two octaves higher as he begged without shame. as if impressing everyone at school today suddenly hadn’t mattered to him, as if he had taken a moment to consider whether or not he would undeservingly punish you when he did what he did. as long as he was protected, as long as he was respected, as long as he was king steve by the end of it.

you didn’t answer, instead swallowing the lump in your throat as you quietly pulled your fingers from his hair, holding your hands out of his reach as he fruitlessly attempted to grasp onto them. “say what carol said wasn’t true.” steve’s expression fell at your whisper, paling when he remembered carol’s cackling, her taunting, her tattling. steve turned his gaze to the kitchen stove, running a large hand over his mouth as he sighed helplessly, missing the way you bit back a sob. your mother stood in the doorway behind steve as she gazed at you with a type of sympathy only a woman who had lived it would, clenching her fists nervously but determinedly as she interrupted for both of your sake’s.

“i think you should go home now, steven.”

#was really sad today so i thought hey let’s write something that’ll make it worse 🥲 #part 2? #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x sinclair!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #steve x poc!reader #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #mean!steve harrington #season one steve harrington #joe keery #stranger things angst #stranger things fanfic #pixie’s works * ੈ✩‧₊˚

[touyazbbygirl]

you take the man out of the-

Warning! Bittersweet, angsty but fluff. this was written at the time of posting so 3am. Its not proof read nor super amazing I was half asleep. so bad writing has its own warning <3

And when Im back in Miyagi.. I feel it.  Tooru had left for Argentina not long after high school, breaking contact with the one he had loved. He wanted you to come with, but you had things you needed to accomplish first. Finishing school, you had friends and family in Miyagi. You couldnt just leave that behind like he wanted to. Like he could. 

When Tooru had returned to Miyagi for a visit, he saw you. You seemed happy. Lively. The winter air made your cheeks flushed, the heat from your breath creating small clouds as you spoke so kindly to the elderly lady you were helping. He couldnt help it. His feet moved faster than he could listen to his brain telling him to stop. The moonlight and the signs reflection creating colors against your skin. Pants fell from his lips, the air cooled his nerves, enough.  He stood there, looking at you with pleading eyes, begging you not to run off, not to tell him to leave you alone. Begging you to stay, just for a moment. He loved you, he hated being away from you. He hated being in Argentina without you.  “Y/n..” Tooru started as he felt his breath hitch in his throat. Seeing your expression. He knew, knew you felt the same as he did. Knew that the longing feeling of each other was so deeply embedded in your veins.  “Ya know, ive been waiting for a long time for you shittykawa” You spoke with a watery tone, eyes matching as they filled with tears. Just being able to see him, just to be able to hear his voice caused everything around you to stand still. To stop, to just be him. In this moment, not a single thing else mattered. Reaching out to reach for him, grasping his hand in his. “I love you.” the three words rolled off your tongue just as pretty as they used too.  “Im sick of waiting. You better be here to take me with you” Tooru felt his heart stop, the genuine smile tugging at the corners of his chapped lips. He did the only logical thing in that moment as the snow started falling, as delicate as the heart he held in his hands. He stepped closer, cupping your cheeks that warmed his icy fingertips, thumbs caressing the apples that became more prominent as you returned the smile he was giving.  Tooru rested his forehead against yours as he let out a sigh of relief. His heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest. He leaned down pressing a kiss against your lips, feeling the lip balm against his own. “I missed you” He whispered after he broke the kiss. “So much. Im not leaving without you. I dont care what id have to do. Im not.. Im not going home without you.” Tooru could careless about his pride. It seemed meaningless. Having you standing in from of him. His stupid senseless pride meant nothing to him. He would get on his knees and begged if it meant you would go with him.  You were home, his home. It had nothing to do with Miyagi.. You were the city lights. You were the moon tonight. You were the stars in the sky. You were cherry blossoms in early spring. You were all he ever needed. You were everything. Nothing else mattered to him. Not volleyball, hell not even his milk bread could compare to you.  He was glad he went home, just to visit family. He got his world back, and that was the one thing he was missing back in Argentina. 

#oikawa tōru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru #hq oikawa #oikawa fluff #oikawa toru #oikawa x reader angst #tooru oikawa #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #tooru oikawa x reader #toru oikawa #hq x reader #hq photos #hq smut #hq fanart #sakusa kiyoomi #kagehina #hinata shouyou #hq fluff #haikyuu smut #atsumu miya #kuroo testuro #hinata shoyo #iwaizumi #ushijima #kuroo #matsukawa issei #iwaizumi hajime

[scribiel]

thank you is also a form of saying i love you

Jujutsu Kaisen! Suguru Geto x fem! reader tags: Suguru Geto x fem! reader, fluff, established relationship, mentions of insecurities (suguru's feeling a little insecure), written in first person (reader's) point of view

Suguru, when you told me, “I have flaws, it’s weird you know … to know that you are okay with that.” 

I stopped folding my laundry and took a look at you. “We are human, Suguru. There’s no way we can be an all rounder, no sharp edges kind of thing, Suguru.”

You laughed; I heard the bitterness in the air. “I know, Love. But you understand that sometimes, even if it’s not possible, we want to be perfect for our loved ones?”

I nodded. “I understand, Suguru”—I looked up at the ceiling—”I remember you really loved the mirrorball at our senior prom.”

You answered, “I do recall.”

I shifted my gaze at you. “You said it was so beautiful.”

“I did. Indeed.”

“Mirrorball is a sphere-like object. It’s almost a round thing, but almost. It’s not smooth; it has sharp edges, but it’s beautiful. Whatever it reflects, it’s beautiful. It may not be a perfect thing, but to its surroundings, it’s beautiful.”

You stopped for a while, eyes widened a little, and then a chuckle slipped out and heard in the air. “You remember I love mirrorball. That’s so very sweet.”

And then, there was a wave of delightness washed over me. You smiled as you added, “I only love the mirrorball and thought it was pretty because I saw you in that dress, under the flashy light of mirrorball. You were looking for me. It was beautiful. You are beautiful.”

Suddenly, I felt like the air had escaped my lungs, I choked on my own saliva. Funny. But it caught me off guard. Oh Suguru, now you must know that. I can associate you with many beautiful things to ever exist on earth, but none of them can actually represent and match the beauty you bear; soul, physical, and mind. 

Maybe because beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but let me tell you something: that you are pretty like sunset. Not the bright sunset, but the soft orange that comes along with gray clouds. And I am only the surface of the sea; for what all I am, is only able to reflect the magnificent view of yours. 

You and loving you feel so phenomenal. 

Like the rain on a summer day; raindrops under the beaming golden sun. It’s captivating. And when with you, I never not want to dance in the rain. Spinning in my best dress. And later, the golden sunray is scattered from the raindrops, and then comes many colors. Rainbow. Sometimes more; it’s so colorful, that whenever I shift my gaze, the colors are there. All of them at once. Iridescent. 

Like seeing roses bloom upon the cold white snow. It’s so distinct that no one on earth can question what lies before their eyes. No one on earth will question the love I have for you. 

You were born in February, you are the beginning to the ending of the cold, harsh, and ruthless winter. You bring spring into my life. Melting my frozen heart. You are the beginning of spring. Then, as the ice melts,  you can hear the river flowing; you can walk with a light coat with flowers and greens before your eyes; you can feel something so close to home, and then all you know is you are home. 

Although I have put you on a pedestal, you put me on something higher, perhaps you put a present on my altar, perhaps you think of me as something so deity when you say, “But you are more beautiful. No, let me correct that”—you make your way to me, putting your arms around my body; making me feel so many things, but the only thing that comes up in my head is home, because I am home, somewhere safe and sound—”you are the most beautiful thing. And I could never thank you enough. So, Love, thank you.”

I kiss your cheek gently, then whisper into your ear, “I love you too.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #Suguru geto #geto suguru #geto fluff #just loving suguru #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #fluff