#writing is so exciting to me it feels more alive than breathing

[wsoc-gay]

World Cup Results II

Part 1

Ona Batlle x Reader

Summary: The beginning of Ona's Pregnancy

A/N: At least one more part to this of the pregnancy, might continue it after the baby too. But if anyone has a request please feel free to put it in my asks! I work much better and faster with ideas. I'm open to writing anything, smut, fluff, angst, kid fics, just let me know what you want to read!

You and Ona couldn’t be more excited on the drive home from the clinic. Neither of you could wipe the smiles off your faces as your hands were held together and rested in your girlfriend’s lap. The entire ride home was full of loving sentiments exchanged to one another and plenty of blushes being spread across faces. 

Arriving home began your new train in following the advice from the doctor as closely as possible as well as going a bit overboard. Your girlfriend was starting to get annoyed with you, but even she would admit it was sweet how caring you were. Ona never opened her car door, never lifted anything too heavy, didn’t carry her bags to training, and you hardly let her do household chores. Every night for dinner you cooked a meal full of all the proper nutrients the doctors had advised eating and made sure to buy Ona only the best prenatal vitamins.

You both had agreed to not tell your teammates until you reached the 15-week mark, until then Ona didn’t have to alter her trainings and could still play in games. You had let the coaching staff and medical staff know as soon as you found out so they could monitor the Spaniard closer, but as of now you wanted to keep it on a need-to-know basis.  

It was around the 8-week mark, right after the first ultrasound, that some of your teammates began to catch on that something was happening. Any slight bump or tackle Ona took during training led to you sprinting to be by her side checking up on her. The brunette found it sweet but needed you to let up a little bit before they had to tell your team sooner than expected. 

Your worries weren’t without their reason, the chance of miscarriage was drastically higher through IVF and until Ona was outside her first trimester you had every right to worry. The days leading up to your 8-week scan were some of the most stressful days in your recent memory. You and Ona both were worried sick about having the scan show that you had lost your baby.

Ona was more stressed than you were due to her late-night research of her symptoms which often times resulted in her reading many horror stories of parents going to the first ultrasound and finding no heartbeat. The internet on top of her raging hormones led to many tearful nights where you tried to alleviate her fears but knew that the only thing to help the brunette’s anxiety would be seeing your baby. 

Thankfully one day after training the two of you were able to go to the clinic for the scan and see your baby for the first time. Tears immediately came to both of your eyes as the doctor told you your baby was not only alive, but healthy and thriving inside your girlfriend. You weren’t one to cry, but Ona made a comment that she thinks you’ll be a mess at every ultrasound, and you couldn’t help, but agree. There was something about seeing your baby on that screen that made everything seem more real. Therefore, the attentiveness only got worse.

Your English teammates were the first to confront you about your recent behavior. The pair was sat alone at a table during lunch when Lucy pulled you into a seat, “What’s wrong with you?”

You gave the older woman a confused look, “What the hell do you mean?”

Kiera slapped Lucy’s arm and muttered something you couldn’t quite make out under her breath. She looked over to you, “What Lucy meant to say,” She sent the brunette defender a glare, “Is that you’ve been acting a bit different during training recently.”

You truly hadn’t caught onto what they were referring to yet and raised an eyebrow at the pair, “Is this your guy’s subtle way of telling me I’ve been playing badly?”

Lucy slapped the back of your head and groaned, “No you idiot,” You slapped her right back, “Every time someone so much as touches Ona you act like she got shot.” Lucy slapped you again, “And you’re always watching her like a hawk,” You slapped her back.

Kiera grabbed her arm before she could retaliate, “Would you two stop acting like children already.”

This wasn’t surprising behavior for you and the outside back, ever since you arrived at Barcelona the two of you grew much closer. Lucy helped you a lot to settle into the team and lifestyle of Spain, so overtime you grew a lot closer. Hence, why she was one of the first ones to notice a change in your behavior.

You suddenly realized what they were referring too and tried to hide it best you could, “I’m not acting any different, I always worry about her.”

Lucy gave you a dumbfounded look, “Yeah, but this is even pushing it for you,” She began to dramatically mimic you, “Oh my love, Ona, someone leaned on you during our full contact sport, and job, are you sure you’re going to survive this,” She leaned back with an arm laid against her forehead dramatically. 

You started slapping the older brunette again, “Oh shut up, I am not acting like that.”

Kiera sighed and pushed the two of you apart, “Would you two seriously stop it,” she looked at Lucy, “Luce stop being dramatic,” and then turned to face you, “You’re not acting like whatever the hell that display was, but you are acting extra protective over her.”

You ultimately made up some excuse about Ona having reinflamed her ankle and that you wanted to make sure she didn’t seriously injure it again. The pair of English women didn’t seem to believe your excuse, but let you go on your way.

On the ride home you had told you told Ona about the confrontation with Lucy and Kiera which she followed up by agreeing that you needed to tone down the protectiveness and worrying. She had begun to notice it too and believed it was sweet but agreed that it was about to get out of hand and was only a matter of time before more of your teammates began to catch on. 

---

It was a couple weeks later, around the 12-week mark, when Ona was quieter than usual after training. The car ride home was nearly silent, but you didn’t mention it and assumed she was just tired. As the pregnancy progressed Ona was starting to become increasingly more tired throughout the day, so you assumed that alongside the hard training today was the cause for her quietness. 

It wasn’t until a little later when you walked into the living room and found the Spaniard sitting on the couch with her head in her hands that you finally asked, “Is something wrong babe? Are you not feeling well?”

Her head remained in her hands as she softly muttered out, “I need to tell you something.”

You quickly sat down next to her with you hand on her thigh and concern lacing your voice, “Is it the baby? Do we need to call the doctor?”

She quickly sat back and leaned against the couch quickly alleviating your worries, “No, no the baby is fine. It’s just, es posible que accidentalmente le haya contado a Aitana sobre el bebé.” She had rushed out the last sentence in Spanish making it difficult for you to understand.

“Slower, por favor, you know my Spanish isn’t good when you talk fast.”

“I accidentally told Aitana about the baby today,” Feeling increasingly guilty she began to ramble, “I know we didn’t want to tell people about the baby this early, but she cornered me and you know I’m bad at keeping things to myself when someone asks and it just slipped out. I am so sorry mi amor.”

You chuckled at her rambling but let out a sigh of relief knowing this was the cause to Ona’s mood shift and not something more serious. Ona and Aitana had always been close, growing up playing for the academy together and since Ona returned to Barca they became even closer, so part of you was more surprised it took this long for her to find out. The outside back also was known for being bad at keeping secrets. Anytime someone would ask her about something she wasn’t supposed to talk about she would begin rambling making it obvious that she was hiding something and would usually end up saying it anyways.

You dropped back to lean against the couch and moved your hand from her knee onto her, hardly noticeable, bump, “Oh thank god, you had me worried, love.”

Ona covered your hand with hers, “There is nothing to worry about, I’m sorry she found out.”

The outside back when onto explain that Aitana had cornered her in the locker room after training when the rest of the team had already filed out. Instead of the usual comments which were about how protective you had become, Aitana had brought up how happy the two of you had seemed and that you were touchier than usual. She also had picked up on Ona subtly rubbing her stomach and your hand grazing over it after you would hug. She had straight up asked Ona if she was pregnant, and there was no escaping it from there, your girlfriend didn’t know how to lie.

“And you know I can’t lie, amor, she caught me so off guard and I must’ve taken too long to try and come up with an excuse, but she just pulled me into a hug saying how happy she was for us.”

You laughed again, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull the smaller girl into your side, “I’m more surprised you lasted this long without everyone finding out.”

Ona rubbed a hand over her stomach instinctively, “As long as everyone keeps bringing it up to you instead of me, we should be okay, there’s only three weeks until I can’t play in matches anymore and then we’ll have to tell them.”

You looked down to her face as you smoke softly, “We can tell the team now if you want, you’re out of the first trimester, we just saw the baby, and everything is healthy, there’s no big reason to keep it from them anymore.”

“No, no, I like just keeping it to ourselves. Our own little bubble outside of football for now,” she leaned up to connect your lips softly and full of love.

---

Aitana did much better of a job keeping the secret to herself than you originally expected. The midfielder took her job as being the best friend and only teammate who knew very seriously. Anytime your teammates would begin on the topic when she was around, she would quickly shush their comments and would back any lie you made up to cover your secret. 

You and Ona were grateful for her efforts, but in a way, it only increased your other teammates suspicions. You also were now partially convinced much of the team actually already knew what was going on. As the last two weeks have gone by Mapi, Ingrid, and Alexia had completely stopped asking anything about the topic. Originally Mapi had been one of the most vocal players about finding out what was going on, but now had completely stopped in her efforts. 

The truth was Ingrid, being the observant and caring teammate and friend that she was, had picked up on the same signals Aitana had. She obviously told Mapi about her suspicions who then confided in Alexia about them. Therefore, they came up with a plan to get the two of you to admit it to them. 

It was after the last game of the season before the Christmas break that Alexia decided the team would go to a club to celebrate before everyone left to their respective homes. You and Ona were going to see your family in England for the break, so you tried to get the two of you out of going by saying that you had to finish packing before your flight. Alexia wasn’t taking this as an answer and needed the both of you there to try and get an admittance from you, therefore, said it was required team bonding and you had to be there. The original plan was for Alexia and Mapi to call Ona out on not drinking and essentially for her to expose the pregnancy, but this plan was quickly stopped when the two of you entered the bar, keys in Ona’s hands, clearly having drove the two of you there. Anytime she was asked about a drink it was easy for her to say she was driving that night, plus she didn’t have to lie so there was no worries about her slipping up.

Alexia and Mapi were still trying to come up with a new plan when, surprisingly, you were the one to let it slip.

You were sitting at a table with many of your teammates while Ona was dancing with Aitana, Patri, Claudia, and Cata when a guy walked up behind Ona and placed his hands on her hips. You were on your feet and dragging the man off her before she had the chance to pull away.

The man turned around to be face to face with the hands that had just pulled him off the girl he was obviously interested in, “What the fuck do you want?”

You stood tall with your chest puffed and harshly spoke, “I want you to get your hands off my girlfriend.”

He scoffed, “Girlfriend? Sorry bud, I don’t think she’s the girlfriend type.”

You laughed, “Sorry, bud, but I’m the one she’s woken up next to for the past 8 years so I think I might know her a bit better than you.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t see you anywhere until after I came over so looks like I’ve beat you to it.”

“Oh, fuck no,” You tried to shove past him to get to Ona, but he moved to block your path.

“Why don’t you prove it to me then?” By now a decent amount of your teammates had noticed what was going on and began to come over to help deal with the man.

This sent you over the edge, it might’ve partially been at fault to the alcohol you had that night, and you being a little more than drunk already. But with one big push to his shoulder you announced, “I think the fact that she’s pregnant with my baby proves enough,” this left him shocked and gave you enough time to walk over to Ona with your back turned to the man and place a hand on the side of her face, “Are you alright, love?” Most of your teammates were now standing around you with their jaws hanging open clearly in shock.

The man clearly wasn’t over the embarrassment yet, as he pulled your shoulder back to face him and landed a hook across your cheek, you threw one right back getting him across the nose before security was dragging him away just as Lucy was doing the same to you. You looked back to find Ona and saw Alexia standing in front of her having clearly dragged her back and away from you and the man, likely assuming the altercation may escalate and after your confirmation didn’t want the Spaniard anywhere near the potential of a fight.

After clearing some things with the security guards, they let you stay and Lucy was dragging you over to the table many of your teammates had gone to sit at, the rest following close behind you. 

Ona slid into the booth next to you with a bag of ice in her hand, and reaching up with her free hand to grab your chin and turn your head to assess the damage, “Are you okay? You know I hate it when you do that.”

You were waving your arm dramatically, clearly still affected by the alcohol in your system, “He wanted to take you home I was protecting you both.”

She had a soft smile and pressed the bag of ice to your cheek, which you took over holding against your face, “I know you were, but you could’ve gotten hurt a lot worse.”

“I don’t care,” You leaned closer to whisper in her ear, clearly having forgotten you had already spilled your secret, “You’re carrying precious cargo, Baby Mami.”

Ona chuckled and patted your thigh, “No point in whispering now, amor, you already announced it.”

You turned to see the rest of your team giving you both dumbfounded and shocked looks, but Alexia, Aitana, Mapi, and Ingrid just smirking to themselves.

Alexia was the first to speak up from across the table, “So, you two are having a baby?”

You moved your free hand to rest on your girlfriend’s stomach and smiled as Ona replied, “Yep, baby y/l/n-Batlle is due in May. We were going to tell you all after the break, but tonight was my last match for the season, I’m about to be fifteen weeks, so no more matches.”

You were met with a lot of congratulations from your teammates when Lucy finally connected the dots and pointed at you, “So this is why you’ve been so unbearably protective over her recently.”

You defended yourself, “She’s carrying precious cargo, that’s the future best player in the world in there,” You patted her small bump, and the brunette covered your hand with hers.

This caused a smile to breakout on Ona’s face and laughs spread around the table. Ona had decided you had enough to drink, and she was exhausted having played 70 minutes today, so announced that you would be heading home. It took a few minutes before you were finally out the door, having to go through and hug every one of your teammates and being told congratulations by each one of them. 

The next day the two of you flew to England for the first half of break, you would spend Christmas with your family before coming back to Spain to spend the rest with Ona’s family who you saw more often. 

Since the secret was already out to your teammates and your families had already known for weeks while home in England you and Ona were able to tell a few of your England and former Arsenal teammates you were closest with. 

While in London and met up with Leah, Lia, Lotte, Alessia, Beth, and Viv for lunch to share the news with them. Leah was especially moved when you told her, having been much like a big sister to you during your time at Arsenal. She couldn’t get past how grown up you were and that now were having a baby. Alessia did a lot of claiming that this all happened because of her setting you two up. While you’ll go to your grave denying her you can’t help but thank her slightly.

---

Thanks for reading everyone, I hope you enjoyed! Again, please leave any requests or prompts in my asks!

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso #woso imagine #ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine

[cal-writes]

train au snippet number 2! this time it's namis pov. it takes place after chapter 3 and i think that wraps up train au for now! that's all she wrote™ thanks so much everyone for your love and excitement for this story it was a joy to write and share. if you have questions about the universe that i didnt get into in the main story feel free to shoot me an ask bc i probably thought about it. here is the other snippet and heres the full fic!

-

Nami turns on the bed. Despite sharing it, she and Zoro are miles apart on the king sized mattress. It doesn't even creak in the slightest, only the fabric rustles softly. She loves staying over at Kaya's. Everything is lush and extravagant, like staying at a hotel for free and without strangers. A vacation from real life which is what they sorely needed after tonight. Her dress is draped over one of the chairs next to the bed. In the dim light of the night the wine stain at the hem looks black. She'll have to remember to take it to a different dry cleaners than the one she stole it from. 

She looks over, pulling her hair out from under her head. With the moonlight falling in from the window she can see Zoro's profile in the dark. His eyes are closed, chest falling and rising slowly. 

"You okay?" Nami asks, loud enough to wake Zoro up should he already be asleep. He shuffles around with his eyes closed.

"Yeah. Didn't even hit me." He replies, nonchalant. Wide awake. 

She scowls at him. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

Zoro sighs and moves his arms until he can cross them behind his head. He opens his eyes and glares at the ceiling. He shrugs half heartedly with one shoulder. "Was only a matter of time, so."

Nami sits up in bed so she can put her hands on her hips. "What's that supposed to mean?" She demands.

Zoro narrows his eye at her. “We both know what.”

“You’re a catch.” She tells him and gives her a look. 

“Right." He huffs, angrily adjusting the duvet around him. "I’ve been sleeping on my friends’ couches for months when I’m not sleeping on a train.”

"So what?" She says petulantly.

"Not to mention 'a hopeless wreck and pathetic child'." He tells her pointedly and Nami scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I said that when I was mad at you, you can't hold that against me." She says and Zoro shakes his head, closing his eyes to deem the conversation over with. Nami pouts. "Even if-," She says and Zoro opens one eye, the vein on his forehead announcing his irritation. "He's a much bigger loser than you. You're perfect for each other."

Zoro groans. "You hate him, what do you care?" One of his hands pinches the bridge of his nose. 

"I don't hate him. He doesn't deserve you. There's a difference."

Zoro sits up, throwing the blanket off of him and his hands into the air. "Yes, of course. The accomplished doctor with his own apartment, obviously the teenage dropout criminal is much too good for him." Zoro's voice says, dripping in sarcasm so she stabs him in the ribs with her nails.

He lets her, rubbing his side afterwards. "This guy paid me 50 bucks to know if you're still alive. He's a mess." She tells him. 

Zoro gets off the bed in a huff. "Doesn't matter who's more pathetic. It's not up to me."

"So you're not even gonna fight?" She says and he glares at her.

Something builds up in him, a tidal wave sweeping in, but it crashes against the shore before he can let it lose. She sees it in the rise and fall of his shoulders. His breath leaves him in a short and violent burst. He shakes his head, shrugging. 

"What's there to fight for?" He asks, letting himself fall on the couch underneath the giant window. The sheer curtains are open, bathing the entire room in the light of the full moon. He pulls his legs up and pops his elbow on the back of the couch, gaze through the glass. "As you said, he got something out of it. I had a good time. Whatever." 

Nami sighs deeply. "Zoro-" 

"Wouldn't have lasted anyway." He tells her sharply. "Nothing ever does." He mutters into his hand and exhales heavily. The brief stint in the holding cell making him all melodramatic. Nami purses her lips. Zoro had been looking forward to tonight, even if he hadn’t said it in so many words. 

The blanket rustles as Nami gets up and her feet pad softly over the carpeted floors. "Come on now." She says, softly chiding. He folds his legs to make room for her on the couch as she joins him, grabbing a pillow to put on her lap in lieu of a blanket. 

Zoro glances over. "Let's be honest. He can do better." He says with misplaced humor, avoiding Nami's indignant gaze. 

She exhales loudly. "Okay, you want to feel sorry for yourself tonight. Fine. I'll let it slide." She tells him before reaching out to grab his chin with her sharp fingers and turn it to face her. "But he would be so lucky to have you. And if he doesn't see that he's an idiot. Don't argue with me, we both know I'm always right." 

Zoro sighs softly, resignation on his face. He knows she won't take any rebuttal so he stays silent, cheeks squished in her hold. She releases him. Shuffling closer until he has to put his legs over her lap. 

She lets her hands fall on his knees. "I know things suck right now." 

"Not more than usual." Zoro says, looking out into the dark. Their view stretches out across the gardens. Out here where Kaya's mansion sits, there are even a few stars visible at night. "Been way worse." He adds. 

Nami sighs again and sinks further down until the upholstery. "True." She admits. 

"I miss Luffy." Zoro mutters into the night. A rare admission. The ache and weight of the night has crushed him underfoot and revealed his mushy center. Nami puts her chin on his propped up knee and wraps her arms around his legs. 

"Me too." She says miserably. Only a little while longer now. She should check when Luffy’s flight is scheduled for again. "He's gonna be so mad at you that you didn't tell him." She says with a small smirk. 

Zoro huffs. "He would have come back early if he knew." And Zoro has been doing just about everything to avoid that. Luffy had been excited about this trip for months. One of the reasons Zoro hadn't wanted to tell Chopper about his situation was because Chopper wouldn't have been able to keep a secret. They both knew Luffy would have dropped everything, helped him, maybe even fought for him against that stupid parent and the police. Zoro would only have to ask but he never would have done that. It had taken weeks for him to even consider crashing at Nami's place. She probably wouldn't even know about it if Franky hadn't told Robin who had told her. And Franky only knew because he had nagged Zoro on the train for days until he spilled the beans. 

It was infuriating, the way he insisted he didn't need help. He was going to figure his own shit out. He always did. 

If she weren't wired exactly the same, she would have throttled him already. 

Nami hums. "Heard back from Kidd yet?" She asks. 

"No. Next week they said." Zoro mutters. She clicks her tongue grumbling under her breath. How long did Kidd need to decide to hire someone when he was desperate for any help in the bar? Bastard. 

Zoro sighs, looking up at the moon above. "Let's go to sleep." 

Nami blows out a breath. "Yeah." She says and neither of them move. Outside the moon makes its way across the sky.

#train au #moi #op #one piece #roronoa zoro #nami #op nami

[psalmsofpsychosis]

writing!!!! is amazing!!!!! like the way you set a plot and then you start writing and your writing shoves a whole fuck you up your ass and says "okay now here is MY plot"!!!!!

#like the discoveries!!!! your story talking to you like a little alive and ferocious and untamed wild animal!!!! #writing is so exciting to me it feels more alive than breathing #Anyway i'm writing a sorcerer!luke and merman!din AU and i love loving my own ideas and being invested in them #fellas out there apologizing about writing ''self indulgent'' pieces while i'm in this corner like #yep i have a case of narcissism but it's hyperspecifically about my stories i take pride in how much they reflect my apeshit mind

[tim-shii]

a/n: im pretty sure this is my first work for haikyuu IM EXCITED I WANNA WATCH THE MOVIE ☹️ accept this offering 🫂 pspsps not beta 🤗 also the word pretty is overused .. i mean suna is pretty so 🧍‍♀️

“babe, i’m home— woah! i didn’t know we were at this stage in our relationship. finally admitting you’re obsessed with me?”

“shut up, rin.” coming home after a practice match to you lazing around on the couch, wearing his shirt? a jaw dropping view. suna admires the way his band t-shirt hangs loosely around your figure. your hair is a wet mess, you must’ve just taken a shower, and your eyes are practically begging to be closed. yet, suna thinks you look as beautiful as ever. fuck. if you guys weren’t already married, he would’ve proposed to you right there and then because you just look so perfect right now.

the light from your phone illuminates your facial features. his eyes rake from your lashes down to your lips. that brings a smile to his face. he drops his bag by the door and stalks over to where you are, dropping his whole weight on you.

“rin! get off— you’re heavy and sweaty!” try as you might but an over six foot tall athlete boyfriend is not easy to push off. “but you love me!” he buries his head in your neck with a groan.

“if i didn’t, i wouldn’t have a ring with your name engraved on the inside.” you sighed in defeat. to say that suna rintaro is a stubborn man would be an understatement. he’s pettier than a five-year-old and throws tantrums when his affections are rejected or not reciprocated.

he pushes himself up with his arms beside your head and looks down at you with a grin that only means mischief. “you are so in love and obsessed with me that you steal shirts from my closet. aren’t you a cutie?” he squeezes your cheeks with a calloused hand and makes kissing noises. he’s so stupid, you think. you just wanna stupidly shut him up.

and so you did, pulling down his chin with a hand of your own. capturing his lips in a fervor kiss comes easy as breathing. you feel his breath hitch for a second before he returns the favor.

suna pulls away first, slapping a palm over your mouth after. (“mmph?!” you glared)

“you are a menace. taking advantage of a man like me? evil!” he pulls his palm away and bit your cheek.

“i married a drama queen.” you rolled your eyes.

“you love this drama queen!”

“you sure about that? what if i married you for your money? or i married you for your— i don’t know, looks.” suna narrows his eyes at you before a mischievous grin spreads across his pretty face.

“i don’t know, babe. your vows said otherwise. what was it again? i am the luckiest person alive to be standing with you today and to be facing life with you everyday—”

“liar! those weren’t my vows!” you shove a throw pillow on his pretty face. “that is so cringe, i would never say that.”

“you are cringe. you would a hundred percent say that. hell, you’ll say something even more cringe than that.”

“you’re the cringe one. running to the stands and kissing me in front of everybody right after a game that you lost!”

“hey! i’m sensitive about that.” of course, he pouts at you. a frown on his pretty face resembling a kicked puppy.

“you insulted my vows.”

“i did not insult your vows. i was just.. recalling and rephrasing them.”

“that wasn’t anything near my vows. how dare you. i didn’t sleep for three nights writing those.” suna attacks your face again. littering kisses all over your pretty face.

“rin, stop it— your fucking saliva—”

“i love you, too.” he murmurs, plopping a kiss tied with passion and adoration on your lips.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

#tim writes. #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyū!! #suna rintarou #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarō #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro x y/n #suna x reader #suna x you #haikyuu suna #hq #hq x reader #hq suna #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou x you #suna rintaro x you

[togrowoldinv]

Sexiest Woman Alive

Milf!Actress!Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

Wanda is a renowned actress that you’ve been seeing for a while. She gets named the Sexiest Woman Alive and you show her just how much she deserves it

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, mommy kink, oral (W receiving)

Note: I know way back someone sent me an ask saying Wanda should be named the sexiest woman alive, so this is for you anon lol. Enjoy this!

Milf Wanda Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You have heard rumors that the woman you’ve been sleeping with is going to be named the sexiest woman alive, but you really haven’t put much stock in them.

The gossip blogs love to write about Wanda. who could blame them? Wanda is quite a sight to see. She hit it big after being in a few Oscar-nominated movies.

You met her on the set of her last movie where you worked as a producer. She didn’t seem like the type to be with someone like you, but there was an undeniable connection. Wanda suggested you two keep things casual, as being with someone like her is no easy task.

She didn’t want you to fall under the scrutiny of the media or for anyone to think less of her new movie just because she was sleeping with the producer. But things with her always felt more than casual.

Wanda brought you home this week to meet her kids and brother. She doesn’t get to spend near as much time with them as she wants to, so you felt honored that she invited you to join her.

You met the kids, Billy and Tommy, and immediately it felt like a family unit. Wanda didn’t say anything, but she could feel it too. Her brother, Pietro, felt the same way. It felt like home.

Wanda wakes up with a peaceful smile on her face. She rolls over and wraps her arms around you. You feel her breasts pressed against your back. Wanda drops a kiss to your shoulder.

“Good morning,” Wanda says, her accent she usually hides slipping through.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” you reply.

You turn in her arms to rest on your back. Wanda rests a hand over your heart and gazes into your eyes. It’s truly the perfect way to wake up.

She leans down and kisses you softly. You deepen the kiss until Wanda’s phone rings.

“Ugh,” she groans out, a pout forming on her perfect face.

“Ignore it,” you mumble. You pull her by the back of her neck closer to you again. She grins at that.

“It’s my agent,” she says.

She places a soft kiss to your cheek before she grabs her phone. She answers it. You can’t hear what the person is saying, but the smile on Wanda’s face tells you it’s good news. She hangs up the phone.

Wanda takes a deep breath and turns back to you.

“It sounds weird to say this,” she begins. You nod to encourage her to keep going. “That was my agent telling me that I’ve been named the Sexiest Woman Alive.”

“Wanda! That’s so cool! Are you excited?” You ask.

“I don’t know,” Wanda admits. “I mean am I really-”

“Let me stop you right there,” you interrupt her. “You are 100% without a doubt the sexiest woman alive.”

You kiss her to accentuate your point. Wanda happily obliges and kisses you back.

“You’re the sexiest woman alive,” you say between kisses. “And the sexiest mother alive. And the sexiest actress alive.”

“Mmm, you’re too good to me, baby,” Wanda says.

You grab her by the waist and flip her over onto the bed. You move your hands over her body as you kiss her. Wanda’s tongue brushes against yours. She lets out the sweetest moans.

“Let me show you just how sexy you are,” you say to her.

“Please baby. Show mommy how sexy I am,” Wanda replies.

You love when she gets like this. You lift Wanda’s nightgown over her head and throw it to the side. Your lips immediately go to her nipples.

“Yeah, just like that,” Wanda encourages you. She holds the back of your head to keep your lips sucking on her breasts.

Your hand sneaks down her abdomen to land between her legs. She wears lacy panties that you can feel her wetness through. You feel the way her hips stutter at your touch. You press harder against her core.

“Y/n, baby,” she moans out. “I need you.”

“Where do you need me, Mommy?” You lift your head from her breasts to ask her.

Wanda pushes on your head to direct you further down her body. You drop kisses to her abdomen and thighs before you dive into her center. You lick a stripe up her pussy. She moans at the feeling. Your tongue works against her as she continues to soak up the feeling.

“Please, I’m going to come,” Wanda says.

“Come for me, Wands. You’re so perfect,” you say.

She cries out and comes hard against your tongue. You clean her up and move back up her body. You kiss her deeply and Wanda moans into it.

When you pull away, Wanda still has a lustful look in her eye. You move against her to relieve some of your own tension between your legs. Wanda pulls you on top of her further. You get the message. You align your own pussy with hers and move slowly.

“Fuck,” Wanda says. “Baby, you’re so good.”

You pick up the pace at her words. Wanda loves watching you move against her like this. Just your two bodies working together to feel so good. Soon, you come together, and you fall onto the bed next to her.

Wanda kisses you softly and you rest your head on her shoulder.

“This is more than just casual, isn’t it?” Wanda asks.

“I think so,” you admit. “But for now, can I just ask you one question?”

“Sure,” she says.

“Can I go with you to your Sexiest Woman Alive photoshoot?” You ask. Wanda chuckles and you can’t help but laugh too.

To you, Wanda is the most beautiful, funny, and intelligent person you know. The magazine made the right choice.

You’re luckier than anyone in the entire world that you get to be with her.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #milf!wanda #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff comfort #wanda maximoff fluff #actress!wanda

[svltzmans]

lipstick - c.h.

warnings: 18+ smut, fem! reader, hickeys/marks, nipple play, top!reader, edging, many other dirty things <3 cassie is in love with reader's lipstick <3 i wanted to finish this bc i'm excited to post it so i didn't proofread 😬

a/n: i'm obsessed with cassie y'all... also i feel like this is a little smuttier than what i would normally write? do we like this or is it too much? let a gal know

y/n stares at herself in her bathroom mirror, focused on the deep red lipstick she was applying.

her girlfriend, cassie, had reserved them a table at one of the most lavish restaurants in the area. it was what cassie liked to call a "surprise date," although y/n was made aware beforehand.

as much as y/n likes to dress up for this type of occasion, she has never gone this far with her appearance.

she had picked out a princess-esque gown that flowed behind her as she walked, paired with black stilettos and her best batch of jewelry.

cassie is beyond obsessed with the way her girlfriend dresses herself up. her heart skips a beat seeing y/n look as angelic as she does.

"baby, are you ready to g- oh wow," cassie fails to form words when she sees y/n in front of the mirror.

the way y/n is leaning into the mirror over the sink makes cassie's legs feel weaker. she stares for a moment, not even noticing that y/n had responded to her.

"cass, you in there?" y/n brings her out of the fantasies she had already started dreaming of involving y/n and the sink.

"yeah, i just... you look beautiful."

cassie is absolutely in awe of the woman in front of her, almost struggling to believe that they were really dating.

"you're not so bad yourself, howard," y/n quips, sending a wink cassie's way.

cassie struggles to stand, and the feeling only worsens when she sees the dark red stain on her girlfriend's lips.

something about the way y/n looked wearing lipstick made cassie shiver. there was something so seductive about it that made something as simple as y/n talking especially attractive.

"i, uh, i really like that lipstick on you," cassie says shyly, trying to hide the fact that she is staring deeply at her girlfriend's lips.

"new shade i'm trying out," y/n simply replies. "wanna try some?"

the thought of y/n putting lipstick on her makes cassie feel like she has ascended directly to heaven.

"sure, yeah, i'd like that."

cassie is still somewhat shy; she still hadn't fully adjusted to the sight in front of her.

y/n pulls cassie closer and kisses her gently, resting her hands on her cheeks.

"there you go, now you can wear it too," y/n says nonchalantly, smirking at her awestruck partner.

without even thinking, cassie pulls y/n in again, much more intensely this time. her body feels like it's on fire, never quite feeling close enough to the woman in front of her.

"cassie, what are you do-"

y/n is interrupted by cassie unzipping her own dress, desperately trying to get it off her body.

"our reservation is in a little while, baby," y/n attempts to reason with cassie, to no avail. she tries to hide her stares, which is impossible with her girlfriend's body in full view.

"fuck the reservation."

cassie rests her body against the sink, the back of her head resting against the mirror.

she feels alive being exposed in front of y/n, as if it was her favorite drug.

and when y/n attaches her lips to cassie's neck, she can't help but let out an anguished whine.

y/n is both gentle and sloppy, kissing and sucking on cassie's pulse point.

"god, y/n..."

when cassie looks down, she sees the maroon color of y/n's lipstick smeared on her neck, and she swears she has never needed anyone so badly.

"mark me," cassie mutters, desperation evident in her voice.

without warning, y/n plants a kiss on cassie's nipple, leaving behind the shape of her lips.

"more," cassie breathes, barely keeping her composure.

the encouragement is all y/n needs, swirling her tongue around cassie's nipple and obscenely spreading the red pigment.

y/n bites and sucks on cassie's boobs in a way that is almost animalistic, a combination of lipstick and broken vessels creating a masterpiece on cassie's chest.

cassie is unapologetically a mess, running her fingers through her girlfriend's hair and throwing her head back against the mirror. at that moment, she didn't care if she broke it.

the noises she makes are both obscene and heavenly, a mix of gentle whines and almost-screams.

cassie can't help but start to push y/n's head down, wordlessly begging her for more.

y/n looks up at cassie, ceasing the contact between her mouth and her girlfriend's body.

"gotta use your words, cass," she teases, resting her chin on cassie's thigh.

"need you, y/n," cassie manages, already breathing heavy.

"need me for what, baby?"

"fuck me. need it so bad. please pretty, i'll be good, i promise..."

cassie is blabbering at that point, doing everything she can to get y/n's touch once again.

eventually, she wins.

y/n tantalizingly plants kisses on her thighs, dropping to her knees to be at eye level.

cassie practically melts into a puddle seeing her girlfriend on her knees in front of her. she's mesmerized, feeling like she was on a high she'd never come down from.

"stop teasing, y/n. need your mouth baby," cassie slurs, bucking her hips up from the sink.

y/n finally dives into cassie, roughly and swiftly sucking on her clit.

"fuck, y/n," cassie practically screams, simultaneously feeling the strongest form of desire and relief.

y/n briefly pulls away, lewdly licking her lips.

"you taste as good as you look, pretty girl," she mutters before continuing without skipping a beat.

cassie whines at her girlfriend's comment, already feeling the coil in her stomach growing at a rapid pace.

"god, y/n. gonna make me cum."

cassie relishes in the pleasure, her legs vibrating as she gets closer and closer to her orgasm.

as she's about to fall over her peak, y/n pulls her mouth away.

"what- what're you doing?" cassie whines, the loss of contact almost painful.

"not done with you yet, cass. can you hold on for a little longer for me?"

cassie could never object. as badly as she needed to cum, she needed more of y/n just as badly.

when y/n starts again, cassie is already close, gripping the porcelain below her.

when y/n slowly pushes a finger into cassie, she absolutely loses it.

"oh my god, just like that. feels so good, fuck. can't take much more."

cassie's words sound like a cocktail of nonsense, her brain seeming to give out on her the longer y/n fucks her.

"gonna cum on my face, aren't you, cass? i know, baby. let it out princess, you can do it."

cassie is practically crying out of pure ecstasy, her body giving out from under her.

"i, i'm gonna, can i?"

"cum for me, cassie."

cassie's vision completely blacks out, her head once again thrown back against the mirror. she grips y/n's hair, still seeing stars after several seconds.

cassie feels like her orgasm will never end, not fully used to the intensity of the feeling.

when she comes down from her high, she stares down at her girlfriend, who finally stands up from her knees.

y/n's lipstick is entirely smudged, and her dress was half off her body.

"fuck," cassie giggles, pulling y/n in for a kiss.

y/n's eyes widen in realization when she remembers they had entirely forgotten about their dinner plans.

"the reservation!" y/n says, exasperated.

"as i said," cassie replies. "fuck the reservation."

#cassie howard x fem reader #cassie howard x reader #cassie howard #cassie howard imagine #euphoria x fem reader #euphoria x reader #euphoria #euphoria imagine #wlw #cassie howard smut #cassie euphoria

[hoseoksluna]

BERRIES | jjk ft. jhs

pairing: ex-boyfriend!jungkook x oc (feat. hobi)

genre: angst, tiny fluff, itty bitty smut

word count: 6.0k

summary: your ex-boyfriend shouldn't have this much influence over you when you have a new man, should he?

playlist: berries / pinterest board: berries

warnings: depression, daddy issues, use of titles, oc has dirty thoughts about hobi (do we blame her? no, we do not), slowburn, implied sex, dd/lg, soft argument

note: this took every last bit of my strength, so i had to split it up. i'm sorry if this is a piece of absolute shit, but as you all know work this week squeezed everything out of me and i'm so exhausted that i'm not even sure if this is worth posting. i struggled a lot with this fic, rewrote it multiple times, and i'm so very happy that it's finished. i hope you all enjoy the start of a new series, this time a slowburn that will have more parts, more depth and everything. and surprise! it features hobi, my beautiful husband. it was my first time writing about him and he's missing so terribly from my soul that it was one of the reasons why i struggled so much. i wish it weren't like this for my first time with him, but oh well. i hope you, guys, enjoy. please, let me know what you think. <3

The satiny material of your cream-colored dress must be the one and the same that these sculptures had worn centuries ago. You can almost imagine the softness kissing your fingerprint instead of the cool stone as you graze your touch against each and every immortalized angel of loveliness. You’re stirred by a sense of poignancy—that you’re alive and they’re not and yet you believe that as you stare at them, feel what they’ve been through the more you study their eternal expressions, they stare right back with their eternally tender eyes, see right through you, through your heart, know its contents. You wish you were in their place instead; you’re sure they would’ve handled your cursed life better than you can. 

Or you wish you were as stony as them. 

But you’re an opulent fountain of emotions that are anything but gentle. 

This thought distracts your attention from the way your feet ache in the boots you chose to wear to impress your date. Thigh high, with black knee socks underneath to keep you warm from the cruel breath of autumn. Hoseok is carrying your trenchcoat as you’re adventuring on your own in this art museum and that’s the only sliver of kindness he’s shown you this very morning. 

The only compliment you’ve received from him was a nonverbal one. An up and down look with a smirk creeping in when he picked you up at your apartment. No hug, no caress. You felt so small—and awkward a little bit, comparison rushing in. Not in the form of a wave of the sea, but in the form of a snake, its thick body tightening around your throat. An ouroboros, which made you regret going out on a date so soon. 

It hasn’t even been a month since you’ve become a single girl again, learning how to walk in this new, harsh reality, your legs wobbly, weak and too, too heavy. And the lack of comfortable physical contact made you see your ex-boyfriend before your own eyes, the memory of how he acted at the beginning of your first date. The way he picked you up into his arms due to his excitement of being with you and carried you inside his car. He put on your seatbelt for you. Drove carefully. Held your hand as he led you to the restaurant he picked for you. Even during the walk after while you talked about the stars and you couldn’t help but tell him that his eyes were filled with them. 

Hoseok did neither of those things. He had asked you where you wanted to go and you’ve wanted to visit the museum for quite a while, so you suggested it. He had agreed, no sort of enthusiasm evident in his voice muffled by the phone call. And you’ve barely exchanged a few words during the half an hour of your time spent here, let alone led an entire conversation. You should’ve heeded the warning when it was right in front of you.

Hoseok is certainly not of the artistic kind. 

Looks quite bored as you turn your head to look at him, your coat dangling from his arm so terribly devastatingly. And when you focus your gaze to your right, where a dark wine-tinged room, with golden frames of paintings, awaits you and where you’ve longed to go the moment you stepped a foot inside this grand building, a distaste pools on your tongue, your former aesthetic elation ruined. 

You’re surprised he didn’t stand you up. 

You don’t even want to take pictures. As a matter of fact, you want to go home. But you can’t. Can’t ravage your only possibility and means of forgetting the person you still love. Can’t really encourage Hoseok to leave your life, not when you’re the type of person that doesn’t find love upon every corner you turn to. 

This is your only chance. And he’s the only man you’ll conceivably have in your life for quite some time. 

You walk up to him and take your coat from his arm. His eyes deepen on you, in fact they haven’t strayed from you during the entire half an hour—and that bothers you. If your ex-boyfriend were here, he’d share the beauty with you. Make you laugh so hard that the sound would echo around the vast room. Perhaps give life to the sculptures and they would laugh along, too. 

Your heart hangs heavy in your chest, sinks ever so slowly and you can’t bear it. You need to leave. Take this date elsewhere, hope for betterment to grace you—to have but a fragment of pity for you. 

“You hungry?” you ask, softly, willing your voice to be smooth and not divulge the brassy storm of your emotions to him. Hoseok doesn’t know anything about you. Doesn’t know that you yearn for another person to be standing in his place. “Did you have breakfast?” 

Hoseok needed the date to be in the early hours. Said he had a meeting in the afternoon. Would be working on a project with his colleagues until the late hours. You didn’t mind, not really, in fact it animated you—brought briskness into the sadness of your headspace, knowing it was rainy and cloudy outside. Perfect weather for the influence of the arts. That is, until you realized that it was a grave mistake to take a businessman to a museum; that you dragged a heathen to a church.

Hoseok shifts his weight on each foot, his shoulders swaying with the movement, and he licks his lip, bringing your attention to them. Small, but full—you wonder what they would feel like against yours. Wonder if he’d be gentle with you or violent. If he’d stroke your hair or grip it; fondle the ribbon you’re wearing in a half up do or untie it, entirely. Use it for another means like your ex-boyfriend invariably did. 

Your distaste grows, but not for Hoseok. It grows like poison ivy for yourself and your tendency to compare him with someone he doesn’t deserve to be juxtaposed with. 

Guilt blossoms in your sternum, the leaves of that poison ivy. Pretty to the eye, but deadly for the body. Just like you. You’re too baneful for such a pretty man like Hoseok. You’d do well to respect his boundaries and abstain from physical contact, prevent red rashes from marring his skin.

“I haven’t eaten yet,” Hoseok says, just as softly, rubbing the nape of his neck, the black cloth of his dress shirt taut over his arms—a pretty sight, one that could be hanging in the wine-tinged room for generations to gawk upon. “Truth be told, I was too nervous.” 

A brief smile adorns his slender face and you melt, the poison ivy scratching you raw. Your heart picks up its rhythm, flattery clothing it in a protective layer and you pout, your hand itching to graze his forearm. But a hidden fight rises in you, an army of darkness ready with their bows, their arrows shooting thoughts into your brain about how little you’re worthy of such kindness and favor. 

Though when Hoseok blushes upon seeing your tender expression, it gives you some sort of strength to stand tall against those demons. Despite the fact you don’t understand it, you don’t question it either and you cling to it, sensing its freedom speaking to you in a foreign language. A yearning forms in you, one you haven’t yet had the possibility of meeting. A yearning to learn its syntax and vocabulary. And when you give in to it, the poison ivy in you lessens. 

This is good. 

You reciprocate his smile and you coo. Find it the easiest thing in the world. And because you’re so grateful for what he’s unwittingly done for you, you decide to share your truth with him as well. 

“Let’s go eat, then.” Your eyes crinkle and you’d bet light flickers in them, for your whole body does, you sense it. A warm light enlarges on its axis, taking a hold of the heaviness you felt. “There’s no need to be nervous. It’s what I told myself when I was getting ready. My stomach hurt and believe it or not when I told myself these words, it stopped.” 

Hoseok chuckles, his arm slapping back to his side, but you notice that it trembles. You’re so touched by it that you become angry at yourself, self-hatred clashing with that warmth. You misinterpreted him so unfairly and what’s more, you wallowed in your brokenness and your heartbreak, when Hoseok had been nervous and timid the whole time, which now sheds light on his lack of closeness with you. 

You’re despicable. And the awareness of it transforms into that snake tightening around your throat again. Only this time, you welcome it. Long for it to take your life. It’s the least you deserve. 

But you’re not letting yourself loll in the bed of your horrendous emotions. No, you lift your hand and you caress his arm, the one that quakes. And amidst the sepulchral attention of the sculptures, you’re a witness to that trembling’s halt, to Hoseok’s visible tranquility, and you want to weep. 

You know if you were to gaze at the eternal angels of beauty, you’d see stony tears appear on their ivory cheeks, too. 

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok mumbles and you curl your brows in confusion, not knowing what he’s apologizing for. Hoseok opens his mouth again to speak, but he pauses, sloshing the words in his mouth. You feel so bad that a craving to better yourself overcomes your entire being. “I’m sorry for being such a buzzkill. If you wanna explore this place more, we can. I saw you looking at the room with the paintings.” 

He tilts his head in the direction of the aforementioned room, but you care very little about it as of now. You’d much rather take this elsewhere and get to know him better, so you don’t make the mistake of distorting him again. You’re not very keen on forcing a heathen to pray, either, however you do appreciate his willingness and attentiveness. Carry those things into your jarred heart, fold them inside its chambers, the edge pieces to the puzzle of his personality. 

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, taking it one step further and hooking your arm around his. Hoseok sighs, his shyness slowly breaking apart as he clasps his hand over yours and if you could dissolve any more, now would be the perfect time for it. His hold is strong and steady—and it creates something stable within you, an orchard of fruit trees, pink and green, and bushes of berries, a safe place you want to rest in; lay down your brokenness and woes in. “You’re good. No need to apologize.”

His blush deepens at the reassurance and he smiles, softly, running his thumb over your knuckles. And the gratefulness you feel due to the fact he’s touching you, it is the rain that freshens up the apples and cherries hanging on the twigs of those trees, guiding it into full bloom. You focus on it—focus on the thick, cottony material of his dress shirt as you rub his forearm in response. You want to acknowledge yourself with the unspoken parts of him like these, remember them, allow them to heal you and crack the plaster over your heart. 

And there you hear it. The crumble as Hoseok leans in and presses a chaste peck onto your cheek, lingering there for a second more, inhaling your sandalwood scent. And his smile widens as he looks down on you at such close proximity, erasing your touch-starvation once and for all. It’s your turn to blush now and you feel an inkling to shy away from his gaze, but you stifle it back. Curl your mouth in a smile—your heart thumping louder amidst the orchard now that it has more space to function in. 

“No, I really want to apologize. It’s been too long since I’ve been on a date and you’re so stunning that I’ve forgotten my game, so I can’t help but to be nervous. I don’t know how to act around you,” he says, mutedly, punctuating his sentence with a breathy laugh, glimmering eyes flicking to the lining of your silky neckline just below your collarbones, tracing the miniature cherub hung up on your dainty necklace plated in gold, motionless against your dress. Your own heart grows wings and momentum in its place, fluttering in haste to move closer to him. He bores his gaze back into yours, letting it stay there. “Art isn’t really my thing, but you look like you belong here. Look like all those angels around.” He nods at your necklace. “And like that angel, too. Can I take a picture of you?”

You’re so taken aback that you don’t have time to respond. Pulling out his phone from the pocket of his dress pants, he withdraws from you and gently ushers you in the direction of the closest angel, your trenchcoat slung over his arm again, vibrating with life. He positions you how he likes—right in front of the immense sculpture, your head turned slightly to the side so the wisps of your white ribbon in your hair can be seen. His touch grounds you, tells your bloodstream, your organs that everything is okay, repeats it a little louder to your headspace—all before war could be declared with you. 

Hoseok, the prince of peace. 

The prince that crouches to the dirty floor so the vastness of the angel’s wings can fit in the shot. Yours, too. You think you’ve grown a pair of your own, alongside your heart, now that your shared honesty brought you closer.

You struggle to hold back your sob, to stop the corners of your mouth from rounding, your chin from quivering—all because the lightness that you sense wrapping over your heart is one you haven’t felt in a really long time. You feel taken care of, feel like you can depend on him, and while you can’t explain why you feel that way, you consider that such an immense blessing, regardless. So much that your eyes wet for the camera, but you don’t mind. Let that be captured in the memory—the mending that occurred. And let that be safe with him. 

You smile and the flash goes off, which causes you to burst into giggles, your liquid softness forgotten, and run to him, your palm covering his phone camera so nobody sees his defiance. You look around to make sure no employee is in sight before you face him, cheeks warm, heart warm, wings warm, body warm. Hoseok quirks a brow, confused, gaping up at you from his position, and you take a deep breath to halt another inrush of laughter.

“You can’t take pictures with flash here. They’ll throw us out,” you whisper-shout, your giggles escaping your tightened mouth. His own forms into an ‘O’, fingers clicking on his screen, presumably turning off the automatic flash.

“I didn’t know,” he whisper-shouts back, mouth stretched in a lopsided grin. “I haven’t been here since I was a kid.” You shake your head, shoulders still shaking with the last of your giggles. He probably didn’t have a phone back then, which makes it even funnier. He inspects his settings again to make sure it’s all good before his hand finds your thigh and pushes you back. “Okay, I turned it off. Go back to the angel.” 

It’s your whole body that flutters now, not just your heart, both pairs of wings unfurling, and when you retrace your steps, you still feel the heat of his touch—half on the fabric of your dress, half on your bare skin. And as you smile more naturally for the picture this time, greed kisses your core. A greed for more of his touch; on the same place as well as elsewhere. 

A twinkle of where he could possibly touch you flashes before your eyes and it’s all your focal point consists of when you turn your head to your former position the way he wanted it and he praises you for it: “Good, good.” 

Your muscles clench as you imagine his hand going underneath the fabric, exploring what’s hidden in there for him. The words of praise he would utter at the discovery of your private flesh. Your ears must be red. Such a twist of events you didn’t expect. A meek form of demureness creeps in, enveloping you in a feminine sensuality and you’ve missed feeling this way. Missed feeling pretty and alluring for yourself first, then for a man second. Missed being the center of your attention like this, of someone else’s as well. 

You’ve always loved it. Perhaps due to the fact that you very seldom have it—so when it does come, it changes your life and you attach your being to it. 

You didn’t anticipate going home with Hoseok, especially not on the first date. But because you’re being fed, you don’t really care about being proper. You want to go home with him and so you simply shall. 

Can’t let the opportunity run away from you. 

And so you arch your back a little bit more, look up at the angel and give her your silent thanks, your hair flowing around your form when you flick your gaze back to Hoseok to see him concentrated on the task, his smooth features gravely serious. Your stomach flips. 

“Now from the back,” he instructs without lifting his eyes off of the screen of his phone. “Just like you were.” 

A breath lodges in your throat, the double meaning burning the poison ivy down to ashes and you swallow it, let your stomach acid consume it until there’s nothing left of it, until all that your body carries is nothing but the lightness and the seductiveness that Hoseok gracefully gave you, the comfortable heft of the wings that grew because of him. 

It’s those things that drive forth your following words with the world’s ease, unabashedly. 

“You want it from the back?” 

Hoseok’s mouth parts and the look he exchanges with you should chill your blood, but it doesn’t. If anything, it boils it. The heat that wafts off it pools in your core before ascending to your imaginary wings, leaving them dripping with sweat and the dew of titillation. Hoseok’s eyes narrow, shadowed by the furrow of his brows, encouraging it all the more. 

There is it—the heady energy shift, permeated with the sweetest of berry juices, stemming from lust, from the orchard he planted in you. Strengthening your allure, steeling you from head to toe. You submit to it; kneel into it, notionally. Your elation raises from the dead—and you grin. 

“Behave.”

A pulse in your private parts. The lengthening of your expression of delight. Your wings, your muscles clench and the same winged creatures soar to your heart from your stomach, squeezing the beating flesh. You swivel on your heels, the hem of your dress rippling, exposing more of your tender skin, the ribbon in your hair following suit. 

Hoseok sucks in a breath. Your cheeks ache from the joy’s strain and it is utterly exhilarating to you. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Hoseok coos his approval and you can’t take it anymore. You let him take a few more pictures as you move around, dancing in your own way, running your fingers through your hair, trying to distract yourself from the throbbing between your legs, but to no avail. And when you sigh and face him head-on, Hoseok is already on his feet, walking towards you with a reappearing lopsided grin that forces the butterflies gnawing at your heart to go absolutely rampant. 

You’re done for. You need to take him home. You’re not even curious about how the pictures came out—you can always look at them later. 

Hoseok seems to know about your neediness because when he crosses the distance, he cups your chin. Makes you look up at him. And his smirk deepens while your heart increases in size, wings flitting at the special attention. 

“Such a pretty girl,” he murmurs, caressing your skin with his thumb. Your eyes round and the heat you feel is sweltering underneath your clothes. All the more reason for him to take them off. “The pictures are great. Wanna see?” 

Biting your lip, you shake your head, briefly. “What I want is to make you breakfast,” you say, mirroring his tone, hoping he gets the hint. 

Hoseok waggles your chin, humming. “Oh, yeah?” 

Fuck. If his scolding already didn’t make you submissive, then his response and his actions have. You wet your mouth, teeth instinctively sinking back in, and only nod. Hoseok opens your coat and covers your shoulders in its warmth, pressing the cotton twill fabric against your sternum. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

A fond sound pours out of him and the fact that he likes to be called by that title heightens the pulse between your legs. “Let’s go.” 

He leads you towards the exit with a hand on the small of your back and you’re so happy to be touched at last that with a final look at the angels, you send out your silent love and goodbye to them, thank them one last time for the kindness you received because of them, one that you so ferociously sought after and longed for. 

They seem to bow to you, happy to be of service, and you smile so profoundly that you feel as though nothing could stain your joy and mar it all over again. They wouldn’t allow that to happen—and a tendril of hope burst open within you like sunlight tearing through clouds, one that is suffused with the notion that Hoseok would stand in the way, side by side with those sculptures, too.

And he does when you swivel your head back and catch a glance of someone you know. 

A piercing on the side of his brow, unchanged from the last time you saw him. Round eyes, murky. Ashen complexion that used to bloom with vibrant tints. Full, soft-toned mouth, ever so stuck in that pout, one you used to kiss until it bruised. 

Your bloodstream doesn’t cease its flow. Not until you notice the person beside him. 

A girl with an aura so cataclysmic that it forces you to stop dead in your tracks. An August night storm personified, obnoxiously sweet-smelling of the past summer that you spent with her companion. The hollow, funereal scent of a meadow doused in petrichor—she walks with it, her hands intertwined before her in a clasp. 

You wished for him to be in Hoseok’s place so ardently that he appeared. And now that you contemplate him, the lack of distance between him and the girl, it makes you regret that you ever did. 

Because, unknowingly, it drenched you in gasoline and his presence is a lighter, hers the hand that has flicked it to life and now serenely holds it against your skin, waiting until the flames, little by little, devour you whole. 

And the job is finished when both of their heads whirl, meeting your livid stare. 

And Jungkook, too, stops dead in his tracks. 

“Do you know him?” Hoseok asks and you find it strange that you can hear him when all you can see is red. 

And the red fades into the matching black shirt that Jungkook is wearing, into his bluntly pained mien; into the strands of his date’s short hair and her scrunched up brows as she regards you with a strong aversion that makes you scoff. And the same red weakens when Hoseok turns your attention to him by playing with the ends of your ribbon, grazing them before twirling them around his finger. 

A breath of fresh air, he is. 

You don’t know what to say. Don’t know whether to tell him the truth or come up with something that won’t devastate what you have currently going on with him. But if you lie to him, you’ll stumble into a dead end you’d much rather stay clear of. You’d see it before your eyes once you do take him home and it would ruin the newness he brought up with you, preventing it from taking root in you. 

Devastation awaits you in either case. Both you and Hoseok. 

Cursed, your life is. Doomed, absolutely fucking doomed. 

What would the angels do in your place? 

Seeking their wisdom behind you, it is not in them that you find your answer, but in the passing pair dressed in black, making their way over to the dark-wined room. He’s pretending he didn’t see you at all, walking away from you without saying a word, despite the fact you broke up on good terms. 

You worshiped him in this very building almost on your knees and he dismissed you as if you meant nothing to him, caring for the feelings of his date, instead. 

Peculiarly, the sentiments Hoseok installed in you, both of the passionate and the soft kind, turn that fire blue and it becomes the driving force that guides you to act without a single thought spared. 

“Yeah, I do know him. Do you mind if I quickly say hi to him?”

The corner of Hoseok’s mouth curls and he caresses your hair down your back one last time.  “Go, I’ll get the car ready.” 

Such a confident, strong man, broken out of the confines of his former timidness. Not possessive, nor insecure—letting you do what you want. Respectful of your personal life that doesn’t include him just yet. And for that very reason it will—as soon as you’re done putting out that fire in you. 

It’s not only you that has gone through a change upon this hour and it strikes your awe, enough for you to lean in and peck his cheek, just like he did to you. 

Hoseok makes a sound of endearment, pivots on his feet to leave you to it, but you grab a hold of his hand. Have a need to say something to him. 

His brows rise at the attention and you brush your hand across his knuckles, mimicking his previous actions, having learned them, intimately. 

“Thank you, Hoseok. Really,” you say with a smile that could magnetically pull the sunlight out of its hiding place behind the clouds and bathe this bizarre room in light. You squeeze his hand. 

A swirl of shyness flushes his face in rose pink and he shakes his head. “No need to thank me,” he assures, reciprocating the smile. “And call me Hobi. You can save Hoseok for later.” 

Your jaw falls open and Hoseok chuckles, warmly, deepening the pulse between your legs until a wet spot adorns your panties beneath your dress, one that you look forward to showing him at the aforementioned time. 

He pivots again and you watch his tall, lean figure leave. Back muscles clothed in black, straining against the fabric. He must’ve undergone his military service. 

A beautiful man. You can’t wait to taste him. Taste that manliness. 

Loosening a breath, you turn around to search for your ex-boyfriend. And much to your dismay, he’s appreciating the angel sculpture—the very one and only Hoseok took your pictures with. Fire licks at your every nerve ending, but then you notice that his date is nowhere in sight. 

A perfect opportunity to do what you want to do. 

Pulling out your phone out of your little purse, you look for his name in the history of your calls and tap on it, placing the device against your ear, your hoop earrings clashing against the screen. You watch him palm his pocket as the vibration disturbs his aesthetic pleasure and he casts a long glance at your name filling up his screen. Doesn’t comb his gaze through his surroundings. No, he seems to be transfixed by the twist of events and when he swipes his finger to accept the call, his stare begins to dig a hole into the dirty, marble floor. 

Doesn’t say anything. 

You scoff, fury grazing your fire. “You’re pretending not to know me? That’s low.” His pout rounds and the tip of his shoe traces the edges of the ruination he’s caused. Remains silent. “Who’s your little girlfriend? I thought you’d introduce me. Where is she, anyways?” 

It’s him who scoffs now and he flicks his gaze towards the face of the angel. It’s like he’s staring right at you. “You shouldn’t be doing this, little one.” 

The too familiar pet name brings agony to your heart and you would break had Hoseok not given you his strength, if the dependability of him waiting for you outside wasn’t real. And the allure and the lightness in you, perhaps the very love of the sculptures encompassing you—all of those things only vivify your solidity. You have no reason to break, you’re safe. 

“Well, I think you should be a good Daddy and meet me right there in the red room,” you seethe, glad for the anger to be lingering in you, for the utterance of the title leaving you unscathed. You’re just giving him a taste of his own poison, nothing else. 

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair and sighs, clenching his jaw. “Don’t call me that.” 

You chuckle, enlivened by the provocation. “I can do whatever I want. Besides, you started it.” 

He grits his teeth. “Not when you’re talking to me, you can’t.” 

Your fire rises in overwhelming waves, your curt response ready on your tongue, but Jungkook hangs up, making you shut your mouth, instantly. 

You hate him for that; hate him with the entirety of your being. 

What has happened to your friendship? To the sweet, weeping Jungkook who broke up with you because he didn’t want to cause you any more pain with the state of his mental health, who has been dealing with depression for so long that he’s reached a point of no return, a lightless room with no windows, where all he saw was you, and he didn’t want you to be a victim of such unhealthy attachment. So he bid you goodbye, hugged you until you couldn’t breathe and let you go. 

Three weeks ago. 

You haven’t seen him or heard from him since until now. Until you’ve found someone else and moved on with your life. That’s just your luck. 

And now the person you’re gazing at, it’s not the same one that wept against your chest. Yes, he might have been strict with you during intimate times, teased you with his fatherliness during the day even—but that invariably was imbued with the mellowness of love. 

Try as you may while his words ring in your headspace, you cannot unearth any trace of that same mellowness in it. Only bitterness, coldness and a profound darkness. 

Jungkook pockets his phone and, leaving both of his hands there, sunk deeply, he walks over to the wine-tinged room, his frown obscuring the place in gloom. Murky clouds, personified. A perfect match to the storm of his companion. Bile lodges inside your throat. 

You follow after him, your feet aching terribly in your boots, but it serves as some kind of alleviation to the tautness of your emotions, of your confusion, disgust and offence. Makes you feel better—because once you see Jungkook ogling a certain painting of a woman beaming at him softly, dressed in flowers, blues and greens as the redness akin to your fire burns in her background, the agony tries to slither its way inside your heart, but fails.

You’re a locked orchard. 

Jungkook senses your presence and he swivels, biting the inside of his cheek, pierced brow quirking. There’s a strain to his shoulders and his Adam’s apple bobbles as he takes in your appearance. The creaminess of your short, silky dress, the darker shade of the same color of your trenchcoat slung loosely over your shoulders, exposing your brown, leather, high-heeled boots, your matching purse clutched in both of your hands as you strut towards him. Calm, all of a sudden. It does nothing to you, nothing whatsoever—your heart momentarily attached to Hoseok.

“I thought you’d already left,” he murmurs, tipping up his chin. Begins to sway back and forth on the balls of his feet, the carmine hues of the room swathing him in a deeper shade of darkness. “Isn’t your boyfriend waiting for you?” 

You don’t bother to correct him. It’s none of his business who Hobi is to you, not when he treated you like a stranger.

“We were about to leave, but then I saw your actions,” you say, quite monotonously, your calmness as disturbing as it is triumphant. You yourself even wonder at it. “What the fuck was that?” 

A smirk. “Glad to know I still have some kind of effect on you.” 

You scrunch up your brows, distaste once again pooling in your mouth. “Trust me, I would’ve done this with anyone I know. You’re not special.” 

His smirk widens. “So, you’re not jealous?” He rubs the side of his jaw, staring at you, intently, and disgust comes over you like a splash of a wave, soaking you in cold sweat. 

He did it for that very reason—to make you jealous. Walked right past you, just to get a rise out of you. As much as you loved him half an hour ago, that affection turns into dust within you, sprinkling the fruit trees and the berry brushes with its gray smithereens, poisoning them. 

Ouroboros, all over again. Full circle. Anger covers your disgust. 

A voice echoes within the room. Airy and light, as feminine as it is otherworldly, and you know, without a doubt, who it belongs to. It doesn’t suit her, not in the slightest. 

“There you are,” your ex-boyfriend’s companion trails off, the clapping of her flat shoes halting. “Who are you?” 

You only turn your head to the side, signaling to her that you’ve heard her question, because you fix your stare back at Jungkook as you answer it. “It’s not something you should trouble yourself with. Can you give us a minute?” 

You don’t hear any movement, so she must be stubbornly staying where she is. All right, she can join the conversation for all you care. 

When you turn your head back around, you catch stars oozing from Jungkook’s eyes, a conveyance of adornment painting his face in gentle colors that could never be associated with this room. There it is, the face you know, so resplendent of the one you last saw. And it grazes your anger, whispers to it that it was a mistake, a game of pretense, because you’re reverently acknowledged with his soul—you know who he is. While it may explain his fucked-up behavior, you don’t soften. Not at the hint of familiarity. Not even at the hushed hint of your deduction telling you that the reason why he unmasked himself was because you chose him and didn’t run away when his companion spoiled your short time together. 

You don’t soften because you simply don’t want to. 

You don’t want to give in to any means of getting close to him. 

The chapter is finished. You shouldn’t have called him. You should’ve left with Hobi. 

You don’t wish to keep him waiting long, nor do you wish to keep sprawling in your mistake. You pivot, ready to leave, but Jungkook captures your hand. Desirousness palpitates in his eyes as if he, too, needed to tell you something of urgency. 

You’ll hear him out, but that’s the end of it. 

“Can I see you later?” he asks, pupils growing in size until they absorb his chocolate irises, his grip over your hand tight and heated. A wind blows in your orchard, sweeping away all the darkened smithereens left by the bane, freshening you up. 

You don’t really think that’s a good idea. 

“I won’t have time for you later, I’ll be with Hoseok.” 

To Hobi, you won’t lie, but the same can’t be applied to Jungkook. 

His breath hitches in his throat, disappointment weighing him down, the thought of you being intimate with someone who is not him causing his posture to slouch even more. 

But he surprises you with the words he says next. 

“I’ll wait, then. Let me know when you’re alone.” 

And you surprise yourself even more when you nod, turning on your heel and scurrying off to meet Hobi outside. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot #hoseok x oc #hoseok x yn #hoseok x y/n #hoseok smut #hobi smut #jhope smut #jhope x reader #jung hoseok

[ghostchems]

hello my darling. i see your requests are back open… 👀 i've got a prompt for you if you so wish to write it… reader has been dead for decades, aimlessly wandering the halls of the ministry where no one has ever seen her, heard her or even felt her… until one day, she's walking (or y'know… floating…) through the halls and someone is walking towards her. He stops in his tracks and stares straight ahead. Then she realises…

he's staring at her… Choose a papa, any papa! Whoever you would like to write, if you choose to write it! 😘

a/n: almost 1k words of some sweetness. after reading the prompt i KNEW i had to pick Cardinal Copia 🥹 bee. thank you SO much for sending this in. hit me right in the dang feels

Loneliness has driven you to the busy corridors of the Abbey. Despite the clergy members quite literally seeing right through you, their presence around you is enough to alleviate the void inside you. You’ve had to make do over the decades but even after all of the disappointment there is still an unwavering flicker of hope that you’ll make some sort of contact. Who knew it would be impossible for a ghost to be noticed in a Satanic Ministry? Many attempts have been made, ranging from morose to macabre (floating candles vs. severed limbs) but to no avail. Perhaps there’s something wrong with you. Is your spirit not dark enough to be seen? You remember how you died and decide that can’t be the case.

You gave everything for The Olde One. The Ministry was a very different place back then.

You’re lost in the endless abyss of your thoughts until there’s a shift in energy around you. Something new. Someone new. The wisps of your ghostly train curl towards the ceiling behind you and gust of warm air blows your hair out of your face.

Oooh. A Cardinal. It’s been ages since there’s been one here, the last one being in 19—

Is he looking at you?

There’s no way but… his gaze is fixated on the space you occupy, eyes wide. He bears the Mark of The Olde One — just like the Papas, but even with the Eye no one has ever seen you. He picks up his pace, walking to you with such purpose. You feel an excitement you haven’t felt since you were alive but it’s quickly replaced with crippling anxiety. In a fit of panic you poof out of the corridor and reappear deep into the underground archives, far far away from any person. But the new Cardinal saw you. He really did. After vying for this for so long… you aren’t ready for it.

***

You’ve meandered further into more densely populated areas of the Abbey over the last two weeks after taking some time for yourself to come to grips with the fact that he saw you. Problem is now the Cardinal is nowhere to be found. The longer the week stretched the more you began to believe it was over — he must have only been visiting for the day and thus your chance at talking to someone other than yourself for the first time in 55 years has slipped through your fingers. But that same hope you’ve clung to keeps you pacing and wandering day after day, hoping to catch of glimpse of his black cassock.

One late night you find yourself perusing the library, hovering around the new releases aisle (you like to see how ridiculous the names of romance novels have gotten). The further you get down the aisle the thicker the air becomes around you, the familiar buzzing in your ear from the first time you saw him. There’s a dim light coming from one of the nooks. You steel yourself, you’re going to make yourself known like you planned. Glowing brighter than you ever have before, you float toward the light. How can a ghost have anxiety? You’d think all of those feelings would be gone but somehow you feel like you’d throw up if that were even possible. You reach the outside of the nook and suck in a sharp breath before peering around the corner.

His duochromatic eyes are on you instantly.

“Per favore — please, do not run away again.” He sounds quiet, sleepy but polite and he extends a hand out to you. “I was worried I would not see you.” You blink at him as you reveal yourself fully to him, his gaze taking you in.

“You… you really see me?” Your voice cracks, your ghost trail wiggling with how charged you are emotionally.

“Yes. I do.” The Cardinal stands, his hand still out to you. “I, ehh… I’m the new Cardinal, Cardinal Copia. What is your name?”

My name?

“You’re… you’re the only person who’s ever seen me.” Not an answer to his question at all but your brain is broken. All that time you spent hoping for this…

“Oh. Oh, poverino.” His fingertips graze your hand and you jump — he could feel you too? “Ah! I am sorry! Ehhh… what can I do? How can I help you?” Copia shuffles on his feet anxiously, making sure to keep a safe distance so that he doesn’t startle you again. Your guise is crackling, vibrating with energy, more than you’ve ever felt before. He seems… delighted by your prescience and it makes you feel warm.

“H-how? Cardinal, how?” You push in closer to him, wisps brushing against his cassock.

“Non lo so. I’ve… I’ve just always been able to.” He gives you a sad smile. “I eh… had some weird “imaginary friends” growing up. But please, you must… you must have a lot to say after spending so long only listening.” Copia may have the gentlest voice you’ve ever heard. You want to hug him especially since something about this feels deeply personal to him…but you compose yourself and instead take him by the hand as you sit on the corner of his desk.

“What do I even say now?” You laugh to yourself. “I’ve been so worried about ever being heard that I haven’t thought about what to say. What do you… want to know, Cardinal?” Even now you’re feeling shy.

He gingerly rests his hand on top of yours, a warmth spreading through you that you’ve never experienced before.

“I’ve wanted to get to know you since I saw you, fantasmina. Please, tell me about you.” Copia squeezes your hand with a kind smile. Speechless. You take a deep breath and nod.

You’ll tell him.

You’ll tell him everything.

#guys i am on a plane right now #forgot to add the damn pic #Cardinal Copia #Cardinal Copia x reader #Copia request #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus reader #Copia x reader #papa emeritus iv #ghost band fabric

[creativeashproductions]

Constellations // Wally Clark

IN WHICH: reader is a secret ghost at Split River High School attached to the roof where Wally stumbles onto for solitude. With the new arrival of Maddie Nears a year later a secret comes out.

Warnings: Swearing, talk of a undisclosed medical condition, divorce, angst, and fluff

Words: 2.4k

A/N: Of course it’s a ghost show that revives this blog of writing. Am I surprised? No. Is Julie? Definitely not.

Masterlist

You’d have never anticipated the sound of Luke Bryan’s Country Girl being an okay soundtrack to watching the stars. But you’d also never expected discovering the afterlife so soon. Occasionally, you would hear a mixture of the living and the dead on the ground or through an open window, but you typically stayed on the roof.

It had been the hangout spot for the volleyball team when you were alive. The championship game had been the last time a living foot, other than maintenance, had stepped on this roof.

Most of the team had graduated, and the broken doors that couldn’t hold up against the wind were changed. So now it was only you. Reliving the excitement and stupid teenage decisions. And avoiding Mr. Martin and his afterlife support group because he was unsettling, to say the least.

 “This spot taken?” Your head lolled to the side, finding a fellow dead jock standing above you.

Wally Clark had discovered you on the fifteenth anniversary of his father’s not coming to the Homecoming game. He’d wanted a quiet place and one where Janet wouldn’t follow.

2022 Day After Homecoming Game

The door slammed from the stairwell slammed open, and the muffled sound of sniffling could be heard. Then, the shuffling of sneakers came to an abrupt stop.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Your eyes left the book in your hands to the tall teen towering over you. One of the longer-term ghosts residing at Split River High School.

 “I-I didn’t know anyone used the roof. Are you new?” 

“Nope. Been residing in the afterlife awhile now.” You responded, leaning against the roof’s edge, “Proceed for whatever you were here for.”

Whatever emotional breakdown he was about to have ceased in favour of plopping right down beside you. His head shifting more in your peripheral. He froze when your fingers stopped moving in page-turning.

“Oh, sorry.” He leaned away sheepishly, “Am I annoying you?”

Your brows furrowed, “I’ve read the book a few times. So what brings you to my humble death place.”

“You died up here? Wouldn’t we have heard about-?”

“I didn’t die up here.” You interrupted him to shift to face him fully, “You’re the guy the stadium is named after, right?”

“Wally Clark.” The ghost said, holding his hand out. You exchanged your name in response. Wally slowly repeated your name as if savouring it.

“So seriously, are you okay? You were crying-“

“I died on the football field in 1984. Last night was the first time my dad wasn’t there.” Wally breathed, tilting his head to stare at the sky, “It really hits home that time is going by, and I’m standing still.”

You nudged his knee with your own, “I’m sorry about that. You’re welcome to hang out here to get away.”

“That’d be nice. I feel like all the ghosts expect me to be the outgoing, always happy guy.”

“How was the dance?” You asked as Wally settled on the ground beside you. The ends of his white bowtie hung loosely, and his suit jacket draped across his lap.

“It’s alright. Could have been better.” He spoke, dropping his arm around your shoulders to tug you into his side, “Simon persuaded the DJ to play a couple real hits. One day I’m gonna convince you to go with me.”

Your lips twitched. It was a pastime of Wally’s trying to get you to join in with everyone, especially with the whole drama with the new girl. Thankfully he understood and respected your decision to keep away.

You hadn’t spent years in secret from the support group for no reason. Instead, you existed peacefully in their obliviousness on the roof.

“Nah, I much prefer spending time up here.” You grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Maddie settling in?”

“She’s adjusting as well as she can. Rhonda’s warming up to her. The whole thing she had with Simon is nuts still.”

Maddie Nears, aka the newbie, had shown up suddenly in the afterlife with no memory of her death. Or the events leading up. The pool of suspects is deep, and the desperation to be found alive is strong. 

As he relayed the new development, you tried to think of anything but what you had done today. How do you tell your dead boyfriend something that makes Maddie and Simon’s communication seems like child’s play?

“-What about your day?” Wally questioned, moving so you’re leaning your back against his chest. 

You sighed happily when his arms came to wrap around your shoulders and press his lips to your head. 

“I snuck down to the lost and found for a new book. Mina left a couple things for me too.” 

The friendship you had with the ghost of the stagehand mind boggled Wally. Mina hadn’t left the theatre since the stage light fell on her in the late ’80s. She was eccentric, to say the least, but the only ghost other than Wally that knew about you.

“How? She always screams at us.” Wally chuckled, “Maddie’s the first that cracked through.”

“I got her a script for a production she loves and let her direct me on her birthday.” You hummed, crossing your ankles. Your eyes flinched open in perfect sync with Wally’s tensing up.

“How did you get a script-“Wally trailed off, staring at the stars twinkling under the night sky, “Whoa, wait.”

Wally’s mind flickered to the conversation with Maddie after talking with Mina.

“There’s another ghost. Mina mentioned something about me not being the first ghost outlier. That me talking to Simon isn’t earth shattering.”

Wally’s eyes swept from Ursa Major to your e/c eyes, refusing to lock with his dark brown.

“Can you talk to the living?” Wally demanded, shifting away. The space he created cracks your heart more.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Maddie’s the only one. I can just…sorta leave the school grounds?” You trailed off with a wince. The betrayal is a wicked shattering force to your bubble with the former football player.

“…you can leave the school? And not be slammed back to where you died?!” Wally’s fists went straight into his dark strands. The hair being tugged under his stress.

“Because I didn’t technically die here. I had a health condition and was declared clinically dead a few times. So, wherever my heart stopped, and I escaped, that death destination is a place where I could go. It hurts.”

Wally scoffed, blinking, “We spent the last year, and you kept that a secret. You never told me anything about how you died or this huge thing for over a year. I’ve told you everything.”

Your lips parted to respond, but the door was already slamming behind Wally on his descent back into the building. His long legs eating up half the stairwell by the time you’d opened the door.

“Wally! Wally, wait!” You shouted, sprinting down the stairs, “I swear I was going to tell you!”

The expression on his face was enough to freeze you on the last step, “Don’t you have another place to haunt.”

Your mouth dropped open, watching him disappear in the sea of living students still on school grounds. Your eyes find the blue irises of Maddie Nears. Surprise lighting up in her gaze. Your expression twisted before turning on your heel to flee the area.

The last thing you wanted was to talk with the girl you were assigned to show around on her first day. Stupid school tradition pairing a senior with a freshman.

“Hey!”

Maddie popped around the corner to a dead end where you were nowhere to be found. Instead, you’d slipped into a space where you popped up in a different area of Split River with a sheer scream at the pain.

The fight with Wally kept you from returning to the school grounds. You didn’t know a particular ghost was spending hours on the roof anxiously waiting for you. Instead, you were watching your half-sister playing with her Barbie doll in the backyard of your childhood home.

Your arms tugged your legs to your chest. You rarely visited your family home since you watched the paramedics had arrived at 3am four years ago to remove your corpse from the house. 

“Ava!” 

Your head watched the little girl with piggy tails perk up, hearing your shared father’s voice. Your eyes take in the person you miss most in the world. It always hurt seeing the dimness your death had caused in his eyes.

The streaks of grey in his hair and beard showed the grief of losing you had caused. The guilt he barely masked from your sister. 

“Daddy!” Ava beamed, diving into his arms, “Are we taking Sissy flowers?”

Your lip quivered, hearing the adoration coating each word Ava spoke with that lisp. Speech therapy and growing up making the lisp less pronounced. Ava had barely been two when you died. 

The product of your father finding love again with a wonderful person who loved you and happily stepped into a parent role. You’d lucked out with getting a really great step-parent and a half-sister but a shitty hand for health.

“Absolutely. Do you think Sissy would like daisies this time?” Your grin grew, listening to Ava burst into excitement. 

You watched as the car disappeared around the corner before entering the house. Your room barely had any dust from Riley’s insistence on keeping it clean. Sometimes Ava would toddle in with a toy and curl in your bed to sleep.

Your clothing is still hung in the closet, your computer on your desk and all your pictures on the corkboard. Your phone was already safely tucked in your pocket with the charging cord in your backpack from the first visit back to the house.

The last time you visited your home was Ava’s birthday a few months ago. Long enough, the air freshener in your room had changed to the scent you loved during springtime. So it was time to rotate out a few items of clothing you wore. 

Your eyes lingered on the picture of your volleyball team wearing matching homemade t-shirts. A year after you died, they got together for a volleyball charity event in your name. Last you heard, two of them had become nurses, and one was on the career path to research your condition.

The following photo was of your mom holding you in her arms with a beaming grin matching yours. You hoped the move to Hawaii brought that smile back. You hoped Matthew was everything she deserved. You hoped she learnt how to live life again. 

“I miss you.” You murmured, pressing your fingers against her smiling face. 

The tears obscured your vision and the pacing form of your boyfriend when you opened the rooftop door. Your breathing gasping when his arms wrapped tight around your body.

“I am so sorry.” Wally mumbled in the crook of your neck, “Where were you? I’ve been up here for the last three days.”

“I went home.” You whispered, pressing your forehead to his chest, “I-I don’t leave often. It hurts when I leave a place I died, like the universe or some bullshit forgets this isn’t the only place I died. So it’s like I’m gonna be spit out back in my death place here before I’m in my destination.”

You barely noticed when Wally tugged you to sit in the same spot he first met and talked to you. The roof’s gravel gives the feeling of digging in your jeans; you gave up trying to explain the metaphysical world a year after your death. Instead, Wally listened as you opened up the pieces of yourself you had kept to yourself.

“I was born healthy and lived healthily for a few years before I started getting sick. It broke my parents’ hearts. By the time I was sixteen, I had spent half my life in hospitals and doctors’ offices. Promises of working treatments and possibly experimental trials.” Your gaze stared off into the distance, “It was just noise by the time I graduated. I knew my body had a couple more miles before it would give out.”

“How are you….”

“I collapsed in the gym. I was clinically dead for a minute, but it was enough for this school to be a death destination. The mall once, the hospital twice, and the talk of transplants came around. Finally, I died in my backyard. It was late, and I was alone outside.”

You vividly remembered screaming beside your corpse. Sobbing when you heard your dad break down, cradling you in his arms. Him calling you your childhood nickname and the one you heard in home videos of ‘baby girl’.

“That’s why you love the roof so much. You died watching the stars.” Wally whispered, tilting his head to kiss your temple. His fingers toying with the sweater with the volleyball team logo.

“I did.” You chuckled, “I have a little sister named Ava. She’s five now. She has minimal memories of me, but her favourite thing is bringing flowers to my grave. This past visit was daisies. My dad remarried when I was in middle school, and my mom a couple years before I died.”

“Your parents still live in Split River?”

“My dad and Riley live in my childhood home with Ava. I think they’re talking about maybe having another baby. My mom took my death the worst. Her older brother died in 1995 with his band members. My mom moved to Hawaii with her husband. Split River had too many memories for her. So when Matt was offered a job there, they left.”

“Ava.” Wally hummed, “I like that name.”

“Maddie knew me.” You offered after laying with Wally for a while in comfortable silence. His fingers draw shapes on your bare back under the sweater. His fingers briefly halted before moving again, “When you were alive, did Split River do this thing where a senior was paired with a freshman?”

“Oh yeah. I got paired up with this insanely smart guy. He went on to found this hugely popular website like that Facebook you showed me.”

“Myspace? You got paired with one of the founders?” You spoke, blinking at his grin, “Well, when I was a senior, I got paired with Maddie. Before her dad died, he worked with mine. So, I knew her at work BBQs.”

“Speaking about Maddie…do you want to re-meet her and meet my friends?”

Your eyes narrowed, “This is dues for keeping the secret.”

“Oh, 100%. Secret stays between us, but yeah, you’re definitely meeting my friends. You should check out the support group, Mr. M isn't too bad.”

Tag List:

@websterssrss

#wally clark x reader #wally clark imagines #school spirits imagines #milo manheim #school spirits 2023 #caitsy and ash productions

[alloftheimaginesblog]

an old friend, a new start {remus lupin}

plot: Fourteen years after graduating Hogwarts, you're offered a job to be the new Muggle Music Professor. Funnily enough, your old friend, Remus Lupin, is also offered a new job at Hogwarts that year.

character: remus lupin x female reader

note: this has potential to be multiple parts, if anyone's interested let me know cause i'd like to write more of it xx

You took a deep breath as you stepped out of the carriage to look up at the large, looming castle in front of you. Hogwarts. The castle really hadn't changed at all. It was still strikingly beautiful and so intricately built. Dumbledore took a lot of care to maintain Hogwarts and its grounds and it showed. You lifted your trunk off of the ground and made your way through the grounds to the Great Hall.

The last time you were here was fourteen years ago, the day you graduated. How times had changed. When you were last here, you and your friends were carefree and wild, excited to see what life had in store for you. When there had once been six of you, now only half survived. You hadn't spoken to the other surviving members of the Marauders in years, well Sirius had been sent to Azkaban for the murder of Peter Pettigrew (and you believed it was also for betraying James and Lily too. You and Remus fell out of contact a year or two after Peter's supposed death and Sirius's imprisonment. Life got in the way and it was too hard. There were too many memories and it was too painful so the two of you lost contact.

You often wondered about Remus. He had been your closest friend once upon a time and at one point, you had been head over heels for him but he never knew that. You would wonder about his life, how he was dealing with his condition, if he ever settled down...

Little did you know you'd be finding out sooner rather than later.

Professor McGonagall welcomed you as you walked into the Great Hall, "Ah, (y/n), dear, how lovely to see you after all these years." She greeted with a warm smile. She remained the same, a few more wrinkles around her warm eyes but she was the same, "Or should I say Professor." She had a twinkle in her eye, "I always did like seeing our students come back to be Professors."

You smiled, "Thank you, Professor," you said gratefully, glad that your first interaction was with a friendly familiar face.

"Oh," she said with a sweep of her hand, "call me Minerva... How does it feel to be back?"

"It feels good to be back actually... A little strange and bittersweet." You told her, looking around, "Their memories haunt me every single day but it's more intense here." Minerva looked around the Great Hall, agreeing, "I remember my first day getting sorted into Gryffindor and sitting beside Lily... She was my first friend here before I met the rest."

Her smile was wide and her eyes were a dazzling bright green colour, clashing yet complimenting her orange hair perfectly, "Here," she said, patting the space on the bench beside her, "sit with me, will you?" You gladly sat beside her as you introduced yourselves to the other, "It's all so exciting isn't it? Overwhelming but it's exciting to be somewhere we all belong."

You shook yourself out of the memory and apologised to Minerva but she tutted and gave you a warm smile, "Don't apologise, dear. Keep those happy memories of them alive, all of them." Even Sirius. Even though he betrayed the Potters' ending up getting them and Peter killed, "Speaking of the past, I do have some potentially upsetting news to tell you. Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban recently," you nodded, you'd read all about it. You'd seen his face plastered everywhere, crazed and wild, "James and Lily's son, Harry, he's a third year at Hogwarts... As you know Sirius is the godfather of Harry Potter and we fear that Sirius may try and come to kill the last surviving member of the Potter family."

You nodded as she explained the precautions Hogwarts was taking, "Dementors from Azkaban will be guarding Hogwarts. My honest advice is to stay out of their way, the scary buggers." You laughed slightly, "Just... Be on your highest guard. I've warned Remus too. You two know Sirius better than anyone."

You frowned, "Remus?" You asked, "He's here?"

Minerva looked at you puzzled, "Yes. Sorry, dear, forgive me, I just assumed the two of you would still be in contact."

"No... We haven't seen each other for about a decade actually. It was too painful. Too many painful memories."

Minerva nodded, "Well I hope that him being here and with Sirius on the loose, it may rekindle your friendship once again. The two of you were always the best of friends." You were. You and Remus did everything together, "I don't usually like to gossip on students but seeing as you graduated fourteen years ago, I always did think the two of you would be good together." She smiled, a twinkle in her eye, as you blushed furiously, "Anyway, he's our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Do you want me to show you where your classroom is?"

"Still fifth floor, right?" You asked her to which she nodded, "I think I should be able to find it myself but thank you, Minerva." It would take a while to get used to calling her that, "Once I'm settled, we should catch up some more." Minerva smiled and agreed and then you walked away.

"Professor Lupin's classroom is on the third floor," she called after you. You didn't have to turn around to know that she would be smirking.

Hogwarts was huge with lots of winding staircases that ended up going to different places but it was like muscle memory. Your legs just knew which route to take. Instead of taking the quickest route to your new classroom, you took a bit of a scenic tour, just wanting to soak up everything old and everything new.

The silliest of memories resurfaced as you walked around.

"Look, Moony!" James grinned as Remus approached the two of you, "Padfoot's going to jump down this staircase. He believes he can do it without hurting himself."

Remus looked to you and you just shrugged, "I tried to stop him but it's Sirius, Rem. We'll never be able to control him." (It ended with Sirius spending a night in the hospital).

You turned a corner, finding yourself in front of a painting that you remembered.

You'd just happened across her standing looking at the painting. It was only your second day so you stopped to see if she was okay. "It's crazy," a first year Lily Evans said with a wide smile, "I'm Muggleborn so this is still all quite new to me but it still amazes me that paintings move."

"My dad's a Muggle," you said to Lily, "I kind of had the best of both worlds. I knew about magic but also knew and grew up with a lot of Muggle stuff like Muggle music, I love Muggle music."

"Oh my goodness," Lily grinned, "me too! Who's your favourite?"

"I love The Beatles-"

"No way!" Her smile was contagious, bright and so happy, "Oh (y/n), we're going to be such good friends."

Then you went through a rarely used shortcut through a painting and through a narrow staircase.

Remus coughed, "I suspect this is seldom used given how dusty it is... How did you find out about this secret passageway?"

You laughed, "Rem, I quite genuinely fell through the painting and landed on the stairs. I went up them and they got me to the fourth floor much quicker! Trust the process. Maybe next time we should bring a brush and do a bit of housekeeping?"

After leaving the passageway you wiped your robes down, they had gathered a lot of dust. You wondered whether or not all the other secret passageways and secret rooms you had once hidden in were still accessible and hidden. You'd need to investigate soon. You headed up a spiral staircase and then after a short walk through a hallway, you were standing in front of a classroom which said in large golden painted letters: MUGGLE MUSIC. You smiled and slowly pushed the door open.

"Oh it's brilliant," you said to yourself, clapping with glee after putting your trunk down. It was quite run down, maybe not loved as well as it should've been but getting it back up and running shouldn't be too much of a challenge. You wandered around the classroom, a fresh lick of paint on the walls, some newer instruments and maybe some plants and the classroom would look a lot better. The instruments you had were in relatively good condition but luckily for you, you had plenty of instruments in much better condition in your trunk.

"I learned a new charm!" Sirius grinned, "Check this out." He swung his bag off of his shoulder and began pulling out various textbooks and things alike.

Peter glanced at you, "What's the charm?" He asked sheepishly, "So far you've just made a mess."

Sirius rolled his eyes, "Use your head, Wormtail! Look at the size of my bag and look at the amount of books I just pulled out! That's not all-" he stopped talking and then pulled out, "made sure to pack my handy dandy hat stand."

"You stole a bloody hat stand?!" Remus hissed but even he couldn't hide the smile from his face, "Where's it from?"

Sirius winked, "Just borrowing it, Moony... from Slughorn's office. Anyway... who wants to learn the charm?"

That charm was your second favourite thing you learned at Hogwarts, the first was the charm that Lily taught you afterwards to keep your luggage or bag or whatever you were carrying light, never weighing more than a pound. You lay your trunk on one of the tables, opening it taking out the various instruments you'd carefully packed away. You put them in the instruments cupboard, you'd sort it another day, but just now you wanted to go to your room.

Your office was in the room adjacent to the classroom and then in the room attached to that was your living area. A small bedroom complete with a double bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and then attached was a small kitchen and a bathroom. Your living space was small but more than enough. Your office was a desk, a chair and a few potted plants. There was a bookshelf with various books, a couch and a couple of tables and empty units. You would put your personal record player in here and also have one in the classroom but you would unpack your personal belongings soon. You sat on the bed as you looked around. You could hardly believe that this was your life now, that you were here once again... not only could you not believe that you were here again but so was Remus.

Remus.

You sat upright. He was already here, you knew he'd be in his classroom unpacking and getting ready for the term ahead. A bubble of nervousness suddenly appeared in your stomach as you stood and looked in the mirror that was on the wall. You looked tired but that was to be expected after a five hour journey. You smoothed out your hair and robes before leaving your classroom.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was on the third floor, you remembered exactly what it had once looked like. It was one of your favourite classes when you were a student, it was just fun learning new things and getting to practice magic.

It was then that you noticed someone familiar walking towards you. Inwardly you groaned but you plastered a smile on your face, "Fancy meeting you here, Severus."

Snape sneered at you, "(y/n)... How delightful." He had aged horribly. The same greasy hair, the same large pointed nose, the same dark beady eyes and the same scowl. It seemed he permanently scowled judging by the wrinkles on his forehead. In school, Snape was awful. He was rude, judgemental, bigoted and a bully. And yes, you would then agree that James and Sirius bullied him too but Severus had called his old best friend, Lily Evans, a mudblood and then acted as though he hated her whilst still pining over her. You just didn't like him and Snape, well, Snape didn't like anybody, "I just ran into the werewolf. Already asking me to concoct potions for his... time of the month." Always a cheap shot to make a joke about Remus's time of the month. It was Sirius's favourite thing to do once upon a time.

You nodded, "That's good of you to do that for him. I'm sure he appreciates it."

Snape looked at you displeased, "Obviously."

"Okay, great seeing you, Sev," you said quickly, needing away from him, "let's catch up soon?"

Snape scoffed, "No thank you."

"Ah," you said, patting his shoulder as you moved past him, "you've not changed at all, Sev. Always a pleasure!" Snape looked pissed off as you scampered past him but let's face it, he always looked pissed. You shuddered as you walked away. Fourteen years later and he still creeped you out.

You could hear chatter approaching and you realised that it was the students returning from their summer holidays, coming back to school. You straightened your robes one final time as you walked down the staircase to meet handfuls of older students who were walking up the stairs. You greeted them happily and most of them gave you at least a smile back. As you continued down the steps you saw-

"James?"

Your heart was in your throat, beating hard, as your stomach dropped. You stopped in the middle of the staircase as a young boy, third or fourth year, walked towards you. At the mention of his father's name, his head snapped to you. It was like looking through a window into the past. His hair was just as dark and just as messy. His grin was just as cheeky. He wore the same full moon glasses but his eyes... those were Lily Evans's eyes. You caught a glimpse of the lightening bolt scar on his forehead.

"Sorry, Harry, right?" You asked forcing yourself to smile, "I'm sorry, you just look so much like your father but-"

"I have my mother's eyes," Harry said with a nod and a smile, "Did you know them Professor...?"

"Oh (y/n). (y/n) (y/l/n). I'm the new Muggle Music Professor," you introduced yourself to him and his two, what you assumed to be, friends, "I was really good friends with your mother and father actually."

Harry's eyes lit up. All that poor boy wanted was to know about his parents, "You were? Professor do you think you could tell me about them?"

You stepped aside to let some other students pass, "Of course. Any time at all. My class is on the fifth floor, feel free to drop by whenever. How about we get settled in today and later this week you could come by? Bring your friends too if you wish," you gave a polite smile to Ron and Hermione, "Professor Lupin was also good friends with your parents, that's where I'm off to just now. To say hello to an old friend." Old friends and new starts.

The girl stuck out her hand which you shook gladly, "Hermione. Hermione Granger and this is Ronald Weasley."

The red haired boy rolled his eyes, "No one calls me Ronald, it's Ron, Hermione."

"All of us are taking Muggle Music actually so we'll be in your class." Hermione told you ignoring Ron.

"Yeah after you forced us to take your boring class-" Ron stopped realising that he was insulting your subject to your face, "I'm sorry, I'm sure it's not boring-" His cheeks turned bright pink, as did the tips of his ears.

You laughed, "That's alright. I assume it probably was boring but that'll change now that I'm here, I assure you, Ron. Anyway, I best let you three go to your Common Room and settle in. Come see me whenever you wish, all of you."

"Professor?" Harry said as you went to walk away, "You said Professor Lupin was a friend of my parents?" You nodded, explaining that you'd all been best friends at their age, "Do you think he would come too and tell me about my parents?"

You smiled, "I think that he'd love that, Harry. I'll say to him and we'll arrange something, alright?" You nodded at them once more before disappearing down the stairs and along the corridor. You hadn't seen Harry since he was a baby and goodness he was James's double just with Lily's eyes. Lily's lovely kind eyes. They'd be so proud. You had been so preoccupied you hadn't realised your feet had already taken you to the DADA classroom until you had stopped outside it and there he was. He was unpacking a box of trinkets onto his desk.

"Rem," you said quietly but his keen ears heard your voice and he stopped.

He raised his head and a wide smile grew on his face, "(y/n)," he said back, just as soft, "What are you doing here?"

"Gone and got myself a job. I'm the new Muggle Music Professor." Remus smiled. He knew about your love for Muggle music. It was something the two of you bonded over since Remus's mother was a Muggle too.

All the nerves you'd had about seeing him again vanished as he welcomed you into his arms. You forgot how tall he was, how he still towered over you. Your head was on his chest as you breathed deeply. He smelled the same; coffee and chocolate. A scent that was so comforting to you, so warm and friendly; he smelled like home. You liked that no matter how much time passed, he was still the same dorky Remus you once knew.

He pulled back, holding you at arms length to drink you in, "You look incredible."

You grinned, thanking him as your cheeks burned furiously. Life had not been kind to him, you could tell from the tattered clothes and the beaten up trunk in the corner. He looked in dire need of a sleep but he was still handsome, a little wearier and gaunt with a few extra wrinkles but those warm, honey brown eyes were the same. His scars were more silvery now, like his hair which was still light brown but had greys scattered amongst. He was still as handsome as you remembered but your heart panged knowing that life hadn't been as kind to him.

"So do you," you said with a smile.

Remus rolled his eyes, "Oh, hush," he laughed, "How have you been?"

You nodded, "Uh, yeah, good... Yeah. You?" Now it was time for the awkwardness to come.

Remus shrugged, "Can't complain now that I'm here."

"I met Snape," you told him after a moment of pregnant pause. You recounted the whole encounter, making Remus laugh loudly at how you ended the conversation.

"Bet he's gone off to dip his cloaks in detergent now that you've touched him."

"Still won't wash his hair though, will he?" You teased making Remus laugh again. That booming loud laughter that you loved to hear when you were sixteen.

When the laughter died down, you said, "Have you seen him yet? Harry, I mean." You sat on one of the tables and Remus sat on the one across from you.

He nodded, "Uncanny, isn't it?"

"I called him James. It was like looking into the past but with-"

"Lily's eyes."

You smiled, "They'd be so proud, wouldn't they?"

Remus sighed fondly, a ghost of a smile on his lips, "Oh you know that wherever they are Prongs is bragging all about their Chosen One of a son." You laughed and Remus's smile grew upon hearing your laughter. He'd missed hearing that sound.

"I missed you," he murmured, "I apologise for not being a very good friend."

You shook your head, "I'm sorry too... It was just too painful, Rem. It hurt to see you after... after losing everyone else, after Sirius." Remus nodded, "It still hurts even twelve years later. To see you was to not see them; a constant reminder that they're gone and that we're still here..."

"Survivor's guilt," Remus spoke quietly, "I'd went to therapy when I could afford it... That's what she called it." The two of you were silent for a while before he spoke, "And apparently Sirius is back to kill the last of the Potters'..."

"What happened?" You sighed, "How could he?"

Remus shook his head, "I've been asking myself that since it happened."

You sat up straighter, nudging his knee with your foot, "When I ran into Harry I'd told him that I was close with his parents, said that you were too... He's asked if we could both sit with him and tell him about his parents. The poor boy just wants to know who they were. Would you?"

"Course," Remus said, "Just let me know when and where."

You looked around the classroom. It was still pretty much the same as you remembered it to be just with added decoration on the ceiling, "It's not changed much," your voice was quiet, "it's nice to be back."

Remus stood and extended his hand to you, "Would you like to go do some exploring?"

You took his hand as you grinned, jumping down from the desk, "Oh, I'd love nothing more. Lead the way, Moony!"

And all of a sudden the two of you were sixteen again running around the corridors of Hogwarts keeping your friends in line.

"You're my best friend," Remus said, words slurred from the firewhisky. You were all laying on the floor in the Room of Requirement. James and Sirius were snoring loudly, Peter was hiccupping in a corner and you and Rem were on the floor facing each other, "I fancy you but you're my best friend first and forever." You giggled as he continued, "Don't ever leave me, I'd miss you too much, (y/n)."

As you walked with him, with the memory repeating in your mind, you couldn't help but latch onto his arm, head on his shoulder. His cheeks tinged pink as you did this so casually. Maybe things hadn't changed that much. Maybe things would be like how they once were. "I missed you, Remus... I think good things are in store for us both this year."

Oh please be right.

#one shot #os #reader #reader insert #hp #harry potter imagine #harry potter one shot #prompt #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin #imagine #moony #hogwarts #sirius black #lily evans #james potter

[lesbianpepsi]

Hi can you write about taking care of Sam when she sick and just fluff

hello honey, of course i can write a lil sick fic, especially if it's for Sam

I adore you, can't you see you're meant for me?

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Fem!reader

Request: Taking care of Sam whiles she's sick

Words: 1.863k

Warnings: sam having the cold? bad writing

—————————————————————

"I can't come over, I'm sick." Sam grumbled through the phone along with a few coughs.

You giggled at her words. "Boo, you whore." You replied thinking Sam was only trying to quote the iconic line from the iconic film, Mean Girls.

More harsh coughs were heard through the phone which slightly alarmed you since- no offence to your girlfriend- she wasn't the best at acting.

"What? Why are you calling me a whore?" Your eyes widened as you noticed Sam was in fact not quoting Mean Girls. "Wait, you're actually sick?"

"Why else would I say I'm sick?" The nasally sounding Carpenter sister questioned sounding confused.

"Oh shit I'm so sorry, Sam. I thought you were- you know what never mind. I'm coming over now." You said briskly as you put the call on speaker mode, rushing to put your converses on.

"You don't have to come over, it's fine." Sam said to which you shook your head at, as if she could see you. "I'll be over in ten." You told her as you finished tying your shoes, running over to grab your phone, wallet and keys before walking out of the door.

"You live thirty minutes away."

"I'll be there in ten."

—————————————————————

You somehow managed to arrive at Sam's and Tara's apartment in ten minutes and with a bag full of items.

Knocking on the door three times to announce your arrival you opened the door and walked in.

Tara was sat on the couch with the Babadook playing on the Tv, she turned her head to look at you, giving you a smile. You gave Tara a little wave with your free hand as you swiftly closed the door.

"Hey Y/n, Sam's in her room." She told you to which you smiled appreciatively at. "Hey Tara. How've you been?" You asked as you walked over to stand behind the couch, looking down at Tara.

She shrugged her shoulders weakly. "Alright, thanks for asking. I'm feeling much better than I was a few days ago."

"You were sick too?" You asked her. She nodded her head. "Unfortunately. Mindy had a bad cold and she gave it to me, and every time I get sick Sam also gets sick. So now she's rotting away in her bed."

You chucked at the thought of Mindy passing her cold to everyone in the group, thankfully you hadn't gotten it yet.

"Sibling connection." You teased before you glanced towards Sam's door. Tara giggled nodding her head, it was truly an annoying connection.

You began to walk over to Sam's room before you abruptly stopped and shoved your hand into the bag, pulling out a bottle of Cherry Coke and a small box of Nerds as you turned back to look at Tara.

"I almost forgot." You said making Tara turn to look back at you. Her eyes glanced at your hands and her eyes widened with excitement. You tossed over the drink and sweets that Tara horribly failed to catch.

"Thank you!" She yelled out in a sing song voice already opening the Nerds to get a handful. You laughed as you continued your original plan to walk towards Sam's door.

You gave it a gentle knock before walking inside. The room was utterly void of any light other than some of the light peeking through her curtains.

"Sammy, you alive?" You joked lightly as you walked over to the curtained window, pulling them apart only a bit to allow more light inside so you could actually see your girlfriend.

Sam grumbled as she shuffled around in her bed. "Barley." She said in a raspy nasally voice that made you sigh, she sounded really sick.

Kicking off your shoes you moved to sit by Sam on the bed. The sick girl turned away from you hiding her face in the pillows.

"I don't want you also getting sick." She mumbled as she let out a heavy breath. You pushed yourself closer to Sam as you placed the bag on your lap, searching through it for specific items.

"Well I'm here now and I'm not leaving until you're back to your non-sick self." Sam grudgingly rolled over with her face landing softly against your elbow.

You shuffled further down until Sam could lay her head on your shoulder. Turning your head to look at her you noticed she looked really ill.

Darker bags than usual were laying under her eyes, the end of her nose and the skin around her nose red from having to use a tissue so often, she was also boiling. Even through your hoodie you could feel the heat radiating off of Sam.

"Oh baby." You whispered with sympathy, Sam groaned next to you. "Don't pity me."

You rolled your eyes at her stubbornness. From the bag you pulled out a myriad of items: a packet of Ibuprofen, a box including sachets of cinnamon tea (Sam's favourite), a packet of tissues, a bottle of cold water and of course some soup.

"Have you taken any pills today?" You asked her to which Sam shook her head 'no'. You passed over the pack of Ibuprofen along with the bottle of water. "Take two now and then in a few hours if you've still got sore thighs you can have another two."

"How'd you even know my thighs hurt?" Sam asked pulling away from you to sit up on the bed, her back now against the headboard.

You copied her movement as you watched her take out two pills from the packet.

"Every time you're sick your thighs always hurt, I remember you telling me." You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sam's eyes gazed at you as she popped the pills in her mouth before taking a large sip of the water. She swallowed it after a few seconds and kept the bottle on the bedside table.

She coughed once as she nodded her head, giving you a smile. "Thank you." You smiled sweetly at her as you grabbed her hand, interlocking your fingers with a gentle squeeze.

"How about I go make you some soup and some cinnamon tea then we can watch anything you want." You suggested as you picked up the tomato soup can with your free hand, a bit basic but it was Sam's favourite.

She nodded her head slowly at your words, smiling weakly. "Yes please." She croaked out in a nasally voice.

You gave a curt nod before getting out of the bed, Sam let out a low groan as you dropped your interlocked hands.

"I'll be quick, you pick a show or movie while I make you your soup okay?" You said as you manoeuvred your hoodie off your body, dropping it in the floor.

"Fine." Sam exaggerated. You smiled at her once more before grabbing the box full of sachets and tin once again before leaving the room.

It didn't take long until you were back by Sam's side with a bowl of tomato soup, a small plate of toast and one cinnamon tea for Sam.

(While you were gone Sam had put on your hoodie which made your heart soar at the sight)

"You're the best." Sam thanked as she took the bowl from your hands, taking a small spoonful to which me moaned in satisfaction at the taste.

You beamed with pride as you moved closer to Sam's side until your shoulders and thighs were touching.

"Did you choose what you want to watch?" You asked her as you stole a toast off the plate on her lap. "Don't you dare get crumbs in my bed." Sam threatened as she turned to give you a serious look.

You sighed leaving the bed to stand up as you ate your toast. "What movie or show?" You repeated with a mouthful of toast.

"What's that tv show you keep watching when I'm at yours?" Sam questioned back as she took another spoonful of the soup.

"Brooklyn Nine Nine?"

"No I don't think so."

"Schitts Creek?" You guessed again.

Sam shook her head 'no.' "Derry Girls?" You asked in a more hopeful tone as you took one final bite of your toast.

"No, it's not a sitcom."

Dusting off the crumbs on your shirt you went to sit next to Sam again. "The End Of The Fucking World? Hannibal?" You tried again.

"Is the main character a Russian blonde woman?"

Your eyes widened as you finally figured out what show Sam was talking about. "Killing Eve?"

"Killing Eve, that's the name. Yeah Killing Eve." Sam confirmed as she took her own slice of toast dipping it into the soup. You grinned with satisfaction as you grabbed the TV remote, logging into Netflix to find Killing Eve.

"You know if you just said that in the beginning I would've guessed it a lot faster." Sam rolled her eyes as she took a bite of the toast.

As the opening scene to the first episode played Sam had enough of her food for now and placed them on top of the bed side table. Replacing the bowl and plate with her cup of tea.

You felt Sam move closer to you as she leaned her head on your shoulder, one hand holding the hot cup of tea and the other laying on your leg.

Wrapping an around her waist Sam relaxed even further into the touch. Sam was usually the one wrapping an arm around you, or usually being the big spoon, but when she's sick she settles for allowing you to be the bigger spoon.

"You're the best girlfriend ever." Sam said as she took another slow sip of her cinnamon tea, the smell wavered into your nose.

You chuckled at the compliment. "I know right." Sam rolled her eyes playfully as she took another careful sip of her tea.

"I take back my statement." She threatens with seriousness, you gasped dramatically as you placed a hand on your chest. "Oh how you wound me, my love." You say playing into the dramatics.

Sam laughed in a dry tone which still managed to make your heart skip a beat at the sound.

"Fine I'll take it back, just because I love you."

"I knew our love would conquer all."

The two of you stayed in comfortable silence till the end of the first episode of Killing Eve.

Sam had finished her tea and was fully cuddling into you at that point, making you pass her the bottle of water every now and again.

As you pressed play for the next episode Sam spoke up. "Thank you for coming over and taking care of me."

You smiled warmly as you kissed Sam's forehead, the skin cooled down a bit compared to how hot it was earlier.

"It's my duty as your girlfriend, Sam. You don't need to thank me." You reassured her as she let out a hum.

"Still, thank you." She said as you felt her press a featherlight kiss to your neck. You beamed with love at the contact, your smile somehow widening.

"I love you so much, Sammy."

Sam rolled her eyes at the nickname as a smile of her own played on her lips. "I love you so much more, Y/n."

#lesbianpepsi 200 followers celebration #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter #scream six #my fic writing #sick fic

[tinykonig]

König x Reader Headcanons

this is my first post!!!! im so excited!! i have had an extremely annoying day and just wanted to write these down to cheer me up a bit- hope you guys like them as well :) some of these are self indulgent so forgive me. im writing my könig fic but its taking a while since finals are upon me :/ Warnings: NSFW at the bottom, I put an indicator before :)

He is an extremely active listener. If he’s standing and you are talking to him, he has his feet pointed towards you and his head ducked down a bit so he can hear you better since he’s so tall. Nods along to whatever you say and generally has attentive body language

Remembers the smallest details from any conversation. You tell him a story about your childhood pet and months later he will casually say the pet’s name in another conversation. It always takes you off guard a little

When he realizes he likes you, he panics. Writes frantically in his journal for about 3 hours about it.

You catch on to his little crush pretty quickly, given how he lingers near you more than anyone else and gets shy at the smallest interactions

When you finally confess to him that you feel similarly he is so incredibly happy but flustered. Had to take a cold shower that night to calm himself down

Gives you little gifts all the time (one of his love languages for sure). A drawing he did, a flower he saw on the side of the road, some candy he brought from home, etc

Also collects anything you may gift him. Hoards them and protects them like they are living and breathing

Goes through them on nights when you two have to be apart. He can be extremely sentimental

If you are an artist in anyway, he is your HYPE MAN. Hangs up your drawings/poems/photographs, whatever it may be, in his little dorm room

He melts if you cook/bake him something homemade. Like seriously might get choked up. He loves the smell of baked goods, it always makes him feel right at home. You always try to bake him something on his birthday and he is over the moon about it

Protective but knows you can handle yourself most of the time. Despite his introverted nature he will defend you loudly and aggressively if he senses that it’s necessary

He loves any little weird quirks you may have. You love the smell of clean laundry? He thought it was so cute when you would sniff the shirts coming out of the dryer

OH OH OH LOVES THE THING WHERE YOU HAVE ONE HEADPHONE AND HE HAS THE OTHER AND YOU LISTEN TO THE SAME MUSIC AND JUST HANG OUT. oh man

Accidentally bumps into/knocks you with his hands or arms soooo often. He’s a big boy who doesnt quite have spatial awareness sometimes

He feels so bad everytime it happens and just cradles your face in his hands and apologizing so rapidly (it never really hurts but you like the attention so)

If you dont know german he will give you a “german word of the day” and will say it to you the entire day in context until you guess what it means

Is so excited when you guess right

Not gonna be into PDA it’s too much for him. He’s just constantly your shadow 24/7 in public. The most is having a hand on your back or shoulder so you don’t get lost in a crowd

In private however. Clingiest boy alive (his other love language is physical touch)

Lives for you laying your head on his lap. Plays with your hair or traces your features while he talks to you about his day or a book he started reading

Has the most expressive eyes in the world

I headcannon him as ginger, his hair slightly shaggy (haircuts give him anxiety so he does it himself when it starts to get in his eyes) and wavy

light freckles on his cheeks and across his nose!!!

With his blue eyes he is truly such a picture of beauty

He isn’t super weird about showing his face to you. When you start hanging out outside of work duties he doesn’t wear it, and appreciates that you dont bring attention to it

Sometimes you make a little comment about him being pretty and his face is on FIRE but he just quietly says thank you and has a little smile on his face

Compliments you shyly but often, will not make eye contact with you when he says it

Writes you super heartfelt notes that he will leave you to find because he can better express himself that way

Don’t get me wrong though he has his moments where he can be very very cocky!!

For example: right after a successful mission when he is still riding the adrenaline rush, he is much touchier with you even in front of others

If you need him to reach something he loves that and gets a little power trip. Teases you and makes you jump to get it from him a bit

If he notices that he made YOU blush, wooo boy he loves to tease you. “Did you like that, hmm?”, with a sickly sweet smile

NSFW BELOW

The first time was extremely soft and slow and sweet. He was very eager but very unsure of himself. Didn’t know where to put his hands. You had to guide him and reassure him and he didn’t last very long but it was sweet

He whimpered the entire time

After that, he slowly gains confidence and learns what works for you two

Still likes for you to be in control mostly, with rare soft dom moments

Will try almost anything once!!

Loves praise. Too insecure for degradation and absolutely can’t degrade you either

Loves to eat pussy sooooo much… You have a bad day? He’s on his knees in the shower with one of you thighs on his shoulder. Its your birthday? He got you like 9 presents but the finale is cumming on his tongue 4 times

He fucking growls sometimes when he’s overstimulated and its the greatest thing to grace your ears

Says “I love you” like a chant when he’s cumming in you

Wants to see your face the whole time

Ironically he is great at making eye contact in the bedroom

He has the sexiest thighs in the world

#konig #konig x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #send me YOUR hcs i would love to hear #könig #könig x reader

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. xi

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter |

chapter summary: I'm not even gonna be poetic about this: Joel and reader lie to themselves and others about their feelings for 5.6k words. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 5.6k chapter warnings: ANGST. Description of panic attacks/anxiety. Referenced death of family members/romantic partners. Implied bisexual reader. Alcohol consumption, hangovers. smoking. Canon-typical suffering. As always please dm if you have questions. a/n: Wanted to give game Joel a little love with the gif choice, ya feel me? I've been excited to write this chapter for months and I ultimately feel like it flopped so hard, it just did not come together the way I envisioned. It's also my last week of work for awhile I'm honestly feeling very burnt out so I'm in a 'fuck it, i don't have the energy to make it perfect' mood, BUT - It’s a lot of backstory/development that I do think is necessary. Next chapter shit will go down tho so get ready.

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

-April 10, 2024-

Joel reaches out to clutch the patio railing. His chest is tight, like someone’s stitched his ribs together so they won’t expand fully every time he tries to inhale. Each breath wheezes in and out of him, and his head spins. 

None of this feels real. It can’t be real. And if he’s asleep, he can’t decide if he’s in a dream or a nightmare.

That’s until he hears his name. 

“Joel!” 

Her voice is like a jolt of electricity, shocking his body back into equilibrium. He finds Ellie standing behind him when he looks over his shoulder, Tommy walking up the pathway to the front door, brow furrowed. 

“We literally only got here like one week ago, you can’t die already,” Ellie scolds him, and he knows that the jab is meant to be playful. “Woah, are you okay?” she asks when they lock eyes. 

Joel straightens, squaring up with Tommy, fully prepared to give him a piece of his mind, for throwing him into the deep end with nothing to stay afloat. 

“Who was that?” Ellie is completely oblivious. 

Even if he wanted to answer the question, he still probably couldn’t. It had taken him a moment to even recognize who you were, that’s how long it’s been. And he hadn’t even really gotten a good look. It only clicked when you’d taken off your glasses, and when it’d registered, and then he’d seen the kid next to you, he’d panicked. Joel brushes past Ellie, shoving his brother with one hand in the center of his chest.

“What the hell were you thinking?” 

Tommy recoils at the contact, something pained and confused crossing his expression. “I…. I thought you’d be happy to see that she’s still alive.” 

Joel doesn’t answer, just glowers at him. He’s still unable to make sense of the questions swirling around in his mind, each one seemingly more important than the last. 

Of course it’s good that you're alive. At one point, he had tried to find you. It was after Sarah, after he’d tried to- he can’t even think about how foolish that had been. At the time, the thought of seeing you again was the only thing that provided him with even the slightest bit of hope for the future. But the search had been fruitless. 

After a while, Joel decided that you were dead. It didn’t matter whether or not you were. He’d seen the unspeakable pain humans were capable of inflicting on each other and then when he’d gotten involved with some hunters, became the cause of all that pain. If you were alive…it meant those horrible things were happening to you. You were better off dead. 

It also kept his conscience clear. After he’d done what he had done, he knew if he ever saw you again, he wouldn’t even be able to look you in the eyes. And he was right. You knew a version of him that no longer existed. 

“Joel,” Ellie interjects. He’d nearly forgotten she was there, still lost in his shock and rage. 

“Ellie, go inside,” he quips. 

“Can’t I just-”

“Inside. Right now. ” Joel hasn’t used such an aggressive snarl with her since they first left for the Boston QZ, and he turns to look at her just in time to see her face crumple, before she turns and marches up the stairs. He immediately feels bad, but unfortunately, this is just how things go with every person he cares about these days. He hurts them, then they hurt him, and it equals out, only ending when one of them decides to leave. 

“Jesus, Joel,” Tommy scolds, but he doesn’t care. 

“How long?” 

“What?”

“How long have you known she’s alive? That she has a fuckin’.....” Joel feels something get caught in his throat. “...a fuckin’ kid.”

“That’s her nephew,” Tommy says matter-of-factly, as if it was supposed to be obvious. As if Joel wasn’t just grappling with the idea that he had a twenty year old son he’d never known about, and feeling guilty that you’d been alone with him this whole time. “But I guess I can see where you’d think that.” 

Now that you’re on Joel’s mind, he does recall you mentioning your nephew a few times. Maybe you even had a picture of him hanging on your fridge, and he had pegged how you had the same smile. He’s a little embarrassed for jumping to conclusions, but it doesn’t mean he’s done being angry. 

“Shit,” Tommy rubs his beard. “They’ve been here for like three years. It’s been awhile.”

“Three years?” Joel asks, a whole new wave of anger reappearing. “And you didn’t think to fuckin’ tell me all this time?”

“You know the rules. We aren’t allowed to use the radio.” 

“What about when I was here in the winter?” Joel asks stiffly. 

“I just…figured it’d be a shock-

“And why would you think that, Tommy?” Joel raises his voice. 

Tommy holds out his hands, lowering them slightly as if to tell Joel to settle down. Then he nods towards the house. Ellie. “You had a lot going on with that whole situation. I didn’t want to distract you.”

Joel would never admit it, but that was probably a smart decision for Tommy to make. He remembers how uncertain and scared he’d been when he first stopped in Jackson. But Joel still tries to think of a way to keep the argument going, because he doesn’t want to give Tommy any sort of props for how he’s chosen to break this news to him.

“I thought you’d be happy she’s alive, really, I mean you both-”

Joel holds up his hand. “Enough, Tommy. It was so long ago…I barely remember.”

Tommy frowns, gives him a knowing look. “Really?” 

Joel sniffs, crosses his arms. 

“Well, I remember,” Tommy says. “And she was always good to you.”

Joel doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t have anything else to say, and at this point, he just wants Tommy to leave.

“Work through whatever you have to,” Tommy says. “But don’t be an asshole. You should work on that, in general. Or else I’ll have to keep explaining your behavior.”

“Glad I’ve got you looking out for me,” Joel says dryly.  “Don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Fine.” Tommy shakes his head, backs away.

His brother doesn’t say goodbye as he stuffs his hands in his coat pocket and walks down the street. Joel stays in place, alone on the front porch, until his hands relax from the fists they are clenched in and his anger turns to shame. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 19, 2024-

You close the locket and place it back inside the old lunch pail full of tchotchkes and other memorabilia. It’s a fairly empty box, over the years you’ve found that the things you hold onto are either lost or left behind, not unlike the people you’ve met. You swipe away the tears in your eyes. 

Bea had always said it was important to give yourself the space to grieve, to let yourself feel whatever it was that you needed to. It’s advice that you don’t want to take from her right now because you’re pissed at her for being gone. Not that it had been her fault. And also because you know if you don’t stick to a routine it’s very easy to backslide. 

In the bathroom, you hurry to splash cold water on your face, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. Before the outbreak, there was nothing more terrifying than getting old. Now, as you study the new lines and wrinkles on your face, the scar on your bottom lip, the gray strands in your hair, it doesn’t scare you at all. It seemed frivolous that looks were something you’d been so concerned about when you were younger. But you suppose you didn’t have much else to worry about. There was something pretty freeing about being older, that you can be content without being concerned about whether or not someone will find you attractive. And really, getting old means you’re still alive. That’s all that matters. 

You are concerned with the red in the whites of your eyes, but hope they’ll fade by the time you get to Maria’s. 

Grappling with the fact that Joel is still alive has dredged up a lot. Since it had been about a week since your reunion – if you could even call it that – on your front porch, and you’d seen him one other time. The first time, you’d sort of understood why he’d ran off. But you guessed you kind of expected him to come around eventually. He didn’t. 

Just a few days earlier you’d been walking through the town square, and he’d been headed your direction with that teenage girl who Tommy has since told you is named Ellie. She was giggling at something, and Joel even had a slight smile on his face, but when he saw you, it disappeared, and he pulled Ellie to the opposite side of the street. It was clear now that he was intentionally trying to avoid you, which….didn’t feel great. 

That was an understatement. Having Joel back made you realize just how lonely you were. It had taken some time after arriving in Jackson for you to grieve your partner of nearly ten years, so it hadn’t really dawned on you that at some point you might crave a deeper level of intimacy that your friendships couldn’t offer. But you had already had it twice, so you supposed that was better than nothing at all. Plus, your number one priority had been, and always would be making sure Ethan was provided for. 

So what exactly were you expecting from Joel? Not that, of course. But maybe some kind of closure after all those years spent apart. Some kind of acknowledgement of your time spent together. 

When the outbreak first happened, you had spent a lot of time being angry. With Joel and Sarah, the possibility of being normal had been dangled in front of you. You realized you had wanted to be loved after being convinced by your father – and yourself – that you didn’t deserve it. Then, the second you acknowledged that you wanted it anyways, the world had literally ended. It was a little egocentric, but it sort of felt like a sign that your dad had been right all along. Some women aren’t meant to be part of a family.

Of course, Bea had proved that wrong. But losing the people you loved became a pattern. And you even to this day, you alternated between believing that it was the unfortunate reality of life, or that it was your destiny to never get what you wanted. 

Regardless, even if the way Joel is acting has caused you more turmoil than you are willing to admit, you’re not going to follow him around and beg to get back into his good graces. That’s never been your style. 

You’re tidying up the kitchen, getting ready to leave, when Ethan shuffles into the room. It’s nearly noon. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you say to him as drags his socked feet across the hardwood.

He grumbles his greeting and tilts his head at the bag you’re adjusting over your shoulder, as if to ask where you’re headed.

“I’m going to Maria’s,” you say. “Then I have to meet with Eugene.” 

He makes a noise of affirmation, still half-asleep, and slumps into a kitchen chair. When you look at him closely, you see the dark circles beneath his glassy eyes, his face pale. 

“You alright, honey?” you ask, putting your bag back on the countertop and approaching him. “Do you have a fever?” when you reach to press the back of your hand to his cheek he swats it away weakly. He doesn’t feel warm.

“I’m fine,” he says, crossing his arms on the countertop and burying his face in them. “I just have a headache.”

“Yeah?” you say. “You were out late last night.”

“Derek and I went to the Tipsy Bison,” his voice is muffled. 

Everything clicks into place. “Oh. Were you overserved?” 

He turns his head, but doesn’t lift it. With how long his hair has gotten, most of his face is obscured. “Maybe. But before I get a lecture, don’t worry – I’m never drinking again.”

“I’m not gonna lecture you,” you’re almost offended. “Is this really your first hangover?”

“I mean….probably not. But it’s definitely the worst.” 

“Well now you know your limits,” you say, crossing the room to pour him a glass of water and get some ibuprofen from the long-expired bottle you keep in a cabinet.

“Maybe if we were allowed to drink when we were with Bea, I would’ve learned that sooner.”

You let Ethan’s get his dig in at the last community you’d lived with before Jackson. The more time you’d spent here, the more time he’d had to convince himself that what you’d gotten yourselves into was terrible. Because you had more of a complex perspective on it, it was the one subject you avoided speaking to each other about. 

Ethan is similar to Vincent in that while he’s very sensitive, he also seems to enjoy being an instigator. Of course, spending all of his life fighting to survive in a world that wants him dead has only intensified that. Bea had been good at helping him manage his temper when he was a teenager and it became too much for you to handle. But besides that, he doesn't get into much trouble, so you aren’t going to chastise him. 

“Drink this, and take these.”

He groans, but reaches out for the aspirin and water, nursing it down with small sips. You bite back a smile. The both of you have endured much worse than a hangover, but there’s something cathartic about seeing him experience the plights of a normal twenty-something. 

“Are you hungry?”

“If I eat anything, I think I will vomit,” he lays his head back down. 

You consider asking him if he wants you to stay so you can look after him, but decide that you don’t want to encourage the habit too much. Instead, you reach out and brush a strand of hair off his cheek so you can see him more clearly, and he closes his eyes. “I bet you’ll feel better in a couple hours. Drink water. It’ll help.”

He blinks up at you, seemingly unconvinced. “I saw that guy yesterday. The weird one.” 

“What guy?”

“Tommy’s brother. What’s his name?”

“Joel?” you ask, and pretend that saying his name doesn’t almost make you shiver. 

“Yeah,” he says. “He was with Tommy at the stables. Guess they’re making him a ranger.”

“Hm.”

“I know you knew him before or whatever, but he’s definitely a weirdo. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better.”

The whatever in his sentence is doing a lot of heavy lifting. You roll your eyes, but not maliciously. “Well, he did just get here.” You definitely don’t owe Joel anything, so you surprise yourself by defending him. 

Ethan almost ignores your response, winces, turns his head back into his arms and grumbles something to the effect of I’m dying. 

“Rest up,” you ruffle his hair and kiss the top of his head, like you’ve been doing since before he could walk, and it’s hard to stop even though sometimes it annoys him. Right now, he doesn’t protest. “I’ll bring you home some soup from the mess hall. Take it easy.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s Tommy who lets you in once you arrive at Maria’s. She’s upstairs with the baby, he says, and tells you to wait in the living room, before you hear her frantic voice calling out for him to come help her. 

His footsteps retreat up the stairs, and you hover in the entrance to the living room, your eyes inexplicably drawn to the chalkboard with 

You glance at the little memorial that Tommy had made for Sarah and Kevin, Maria’s son. Even though you’ve seen it a million times at this point, the sight of her name, the date of her passing – the same day as Joel’s birthday – makes your stomach sink. 

That’s when you notice that you’re not alone. Sitting in a chair in the corner is the girl that you’d seen accompanying Joel. You hadn’t actually been properly introduced, you realized, and she’s staring at you like she doesn’t know what to do. She’s a cute kid, a teenager if you had to guess, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. 

Based on how he’s been acting, you can’t imagine what Joel has told her about you. Probably nothing good. So you give her a nod and a small smile, before crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. 

Surprisingly, the bit of sincerity seems to warm her up a little. “I’m Ellie,” she says.

You nod again, and give her your first name. “It’s nice to meet you, Ellie. Sorry I didn’t get the chance the other day.”

She shrugs. “It didn’t seem like that was your fault.”

You let your arms drop to your sides, straighten up. “Did you uh…come to see the baby or something?” 

Ellie shakes her head no. “I’m waiting for Tommy. He’s gonna take me to see the school.” 

“Oh, that’s nice.” 

“Not really,” she says. “I think school is fucking stupid. But everyone says I have to go, because all the other kids in town do, too.”

Ethan was grown when you arrived in Jackson, and you didn’t have children of your own, so it was the one place you didn’t really frequent. “Well, you probably should but….I hear you.”

There’s an almost imperceptible smile that crosses her features. You turn your head back to stare at the staircase, waiting for the sound of Maria’s footsteps, but all you can hear is her and Tommy whispering with frantic energy as they try to put their son down for a nap. 

“You know Joel won’t tell me anything about you,” Ellie’s voice cuts in, and you turn back towards her. “But you knew him before, didn’t you?”

You’re not sure how to take this information, or…how to respond to it. So you keep your response simple. “I mean, we were neighbors.” But even that feels like a lie, and a useless one to tell. Maybe it’s a little petty, but you don’t owe it to Joel to keep his secrets, especially not after he’s treated you so poorly. So you tell her the truth. “I guess he was also…my boyfriend for a little while.”

Ellie seems taken aback by this. “What happened? Did you break his heart or something?”

“No,” you snort. “We got separated before the outbreak.” 

“Oh.” She ponders for a moment. “So then why is he so mad?”

You shrug. “I’ll let you know if I find out.” 

“Well, he’s an asshole. But I bet you already know that,” Ellie says. 

Based on the time you actually spent with Joel, you would’ve never described him that way. So if that’s really how he’s perceived, even by the people who care about him, it makes you a little sad. Losing Sarah must have changed him more than you could imagine. 

You’re already sick of thinking about him so much, so you change the subject to something that’s at least a little lighter. “How did the two of you end up together, anyways?” 

“Long story,” she answers, and you get the sense there’s something she’s holding back. Because you just met, you don’t press her any further. 

“As I’d imagine.” 

You hear boots coming down the stairs, and Tommy rounds the corner, holding a stack of photos. “I’ve been meaning to show these to you, I went home a couple years back…to Joel’s old place and mine. There wasn’t much left, but I found these.”

He passes the pictures to you, and you look down at them. You don’t think much about your old house at all. It was another thing you lost, but almost everyone did, so it didn’t really make you feel special. Still, sometimes you thought of your cozy back patio and your old friend Martini, and had accepted you’d never see them again.

The first photo in the stack is a photo of Joel and Sarah at one of his soccer games. As sweet as the gesture is, you are pretty sure you can only confront so much of your past at once, and with Joel being back in town it’s starting to get suffocating. Also, when you study the picture and realize that your memory has gotten some of Sarah’s features wrong, you’re overwhelmed with guilt. 

Hesitantly, you place the pictures down on the coffee table, and Ellie reaches for them immediately, flipping through him. “Woah,” she says. “He looks so different without all the grey hair,” she flips to a photo of him and Tommy, and glances up at him. “You look pretty much the same.” 

When you agree with her, Tommy grins, playfully tucking a piece of hair behind his ear bashfully before growing serious. “You better not tell him I showed you these.” 

“I won’t,” Ellie assures him. 

“Look at this one.” Tommy pushes another photo across the table towards you, and you peer down to look at it. “He fucking adored you.”

You remember taking the picture vividly while on vacation with Joel and Sarah, and at one point you’d had your own copy framed on your dresser. There are flowers peppered in his hair, and you both look so young, and so happy, and so oblivious, his arms around you, his lips pressed against your cheek. At the time, you really had no idea that everything you knew was about to be destroyed. 

“Nice,” you say flatly, and in an effort to keep from getting emotional, push it back across the table, and retreat to sit in a chair across the room. 

After some time, and some convincing, Tommy and Ellie leave to go on their tour of the school. When the door closes behind them, you swipe the photo from you and Joel off the table and slide it into your back pocket. You tell yourself it’s so Tommy can’t show it to Joel, but really it’s because it’s one of the only memories you have of yourself before the outbreak, when everything felt perfect. 

Just as you back away from the pictures, Maria appears at the bottom of the steps. She looks exhausted, and before either of you can speak, you wrap her in a hug. Partly because it looks like she needs it, but also because you just want to feel close to someone you trust, even if it’s only for a few seconds. “How are you holding up?” you ask. 

“I finally get some peace and I’m using it to work,” she says, leading you into the dining room, where all the paperwork is spread out. Your plan had been to write a new amendment to the town’s constitution, which then had to be approved by the council. 

Maria hadn’t stayed away from her job as the leader of the community for very long after having their son, despite your encouragement for her to take it easy. She had experience with her previous son, Kevin, but you imagined it didn’t make life with a newborn any easier. So you tried to help her out with any chance you got, especially because you knew she’d do the same for you. it was just how things between you worked. She knew even more about you than Tommy did, and you told each other everything. Well, almost everything….

“You should take a nap or something.” 

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “I can write a draft while you sleep and then you and I can do the revisions together. 

She seems reluctant, but after making you swear you’d wake her if the baby starts fussing, she lies down on the couch and you begin working. 

Like your old job, you don’t really like doing this. The only job you have in Jackson that actually excites you is the work you do with Eugene, and going on patrol. But this work makes you feel the most useful. And despite the fact that you had always been skeptical of authority – you believed in her ability to keep things in Jackson running smoothly. 

About an hour later, you’d drawn up the draft and Maria stirs from her nap. The revisions don’t take very long, since you both are usually on the same page, but when you start packing your things up to go, she seems surprised. 

“Are you hanging around until dinner?” 

“No, I have to meet up with Eugene,” you say. “Plus, Ethan’s at home hungover so I told him I’d make him soup. 

“Do you think he’ll be up for dinner tomorrow night?” she asks. “Tommy keeps pestering me.”

“Well he’s still too young for his hangovers to last two days,” you smirk. “So yeah, I think he will.”

“He invited…..Joel, and Ellie,” Maria says hesitantly, watching your face. “Is that okay?”

“I mean….it’s not my dinner party.”

“You can say no. Or not come,” she offers. She hadn’t been there the day you’d seen Joel again for the first time, but it sounds like Tommy has given her the rundown. 

You shrug. As much as you don’t want to admit it, being forced into the same room as Joel is a little exciting. “I’ll go.” 

“Are you doing okay with that?” she asks. “I told Tommy not to surprise you, but he didn’t listen.”

“It’s all fine,” you say, which isn’t entirely a lie. At the end of the day, everything would be fine. The stakes weren’t life and death. When Maria seems unconvinced, you continue. “I mean, it feels like he’s being a little rude…but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Maria lowers her eyes, pauses. “Has Tommy’s ever told you about any of the stuff Joel got him into when they were on their own?”

“Not really,” you say. “But I know they were on bad terms.” 

“I didn’t know you back then,” Maria begins. “So I don’t know what you saw in him, or what he was like. But….I don’t think he’s….I don’t know if it’s worth getting emotionally invested again.”

“Oh, bummer. As you know, reconnecting with an ex is my main priority right now.” you deflect with a smirk, but Maria doesn’t seem as amused.

“Fair,” she says. “But be careful. I saw what he did to his own brother. I don’t want it to happen to you.” 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you assure her. “Whatever he’s done, I’ve dealt with worse.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 20, 2024-

When Joel and Ellie arrive at Tommy’s, it’s clear immediately they aren’t the only people that were invited. 

Seeing the life that Tommy had built for himself here – a thriving community, a wife, a son – fills him with a certain level of envy. But mostly….he’s ashamed. Back when they were hunters, Joel was adamant that it was the only way they could survive, despite the horrible things they were doing. The worst part was, Joel really believed it. Now, the nightmares still chasing both of them, he realizes he was wrong. Even if Tommy won’t say it out loud, Joel knows he resents him for those days, how he’d been forced to trade away so much of his humanity. For Joel, violence came easily – shockingly so – an outlet for all his anger after losing Sarah.  But Tommy had always struggled. And even though there will always be love between them, the tension was still there. 

He’s still adjusting to life in Jackson, only leaving the house when Ellie drags him out, and when Tommy trains him to go out on patrol. It’s hard to accept that he’s not on the run anymore after the chaotic nature of the last year. Only Tommy knows his darkest secret, and he intends to keep it that way. 

While Ellie does seem somewhat hesitant to leave him alone, she does seem a lot more enthusiastic about life in Jackson. Joel knows it’s a good thing, and once again, he feels like he’s let her down by not leading by example. 

Tommy greets them both once they step inside, and Joel is polite — something he’s been trying to do more of lately. Maria gives him a tight-lipped smile, one that tells him she’s trying to be civil despite her reservations. God only knows what Tommy has told her about their time together. At least he can understand where she’s coming from. Had they met twenty years ago in Austin, they probably would’ve gotten along. Nowadays, he’s not surprised when people don’t like him, because he hates himself, too. 

But Maria still entertains them with general pleasantries and questions about how they are settling in, despite looking incredibly flustered. Ellie is more apt to answer them then he is, Joel standing by with his thumbs in his belt loops. 

Over their shoulder, Joel sees you, standing in the corner of the front room with your back turned to him, deep in conversation with your nephew. He’s smiling and telling a very animated story, at one point clapping his palms on your shoulders and shaking them violently while you giggle. It makes him think of you and Sarah. Therein lies the problem. He’s become a little more comfortable discussing his past with Ellie, but there’s a limit to what he’s capable of, especially after repressing so much for so long. 

The oven goes off, and Maria excuses herself to the kitchen, inviting Ellie to follow along. Joel and Tommy are left standing in the entryway together.

“You invited her?” Joel asks, not bothering to hide the venom in his voice. 

Tommy steps back, giving him incredulous once-over. “It’s my house, isn’t it?” 

“I don’t know what game you’re trying to-“

Tommy shoves Joel into the dining room before he can finish his thought, out of eyesight from the rest of the people in the house. “I’m not playing games, Joel. She’s family. Maybe not to you, but definitely to Maria and I. And she’s never shown you anything but kindness. So grow the fuck up.” 

Before Joel can think of another objection, the sound of a baby crying cuts through the air. Tommy freezes at the sound, until you call out from the other room. “I got him.” 

“Come on,” he says. “Maybe you can muster up the courage to hold your nephew.” 

He wants to tell Tommy that he’s trying, even if it doesn’t look like it. But it almost feels better to allow himself to be the black sheep. It makes things easier. If he keeps that door closed, he’ll never need to worry about the problems that lie on the other side. Still, he begrudgingly follows his brother in the other room. 

When he enters the front room, you’re holding Maria and Tommy’s son in your arms.  

After Joel had learned that Ethan was your nephew, he was unsurprisingly relieved. What did surprise him, however, is that some small part of himself was disappointed. Sure, if you actually had his child while you were separated it would have been devastating. But before all this, all he had wanted was a future with you, would’ve gladly given you children….really, anything you wanted.

He tries not to let his eyes linger on you too long, lost in the daydream of what could’ve been, but you meet his eyes and give him such a sterile, polite nod that it’s almost painful.

Dinner is uneventful. Joel ends up seated directly across from you, Tommy’s doing, no doubt, but you do a good enough job of engaging in conversation that you don’t spend much time looking in Joel’s direction, and when you do, he doesn’t recognize your expression. It does give him the chance to study you up close, which he hadn’t done yet, and immediately regrets. 

He’s still just as attracted to you as he’d always been. Sure, you’ve aged, but so has he – although you wear it much more gracefully. When Tommy offers to pour some bourbon into Ethan’s glass, he refuses, and for whatever reason, you stifle a laugh, the wrinkles around your eyes more prominent than they used to be. 

After dinner, when the plates have been cleared, you disappear. He can feel himself growing overwhelmed, so he steps outside onto the back patio for some air. You’re sitting on a porch step looking out at the yard, but when he steps outside, you turn.

When you register that it’s him, you return your eyes forward again, and Joel remains silent, even considers walking back inside without a word. But he stays there so long, contemplating, that you’re the first to speak up. 

“You know, if you stay here….at some point, you are gonna have to acknowledge me.” 

Joel knows he’s the antagonist right now. He’s well aware. But he can’t help himself. Despite that, there’s no malice, and no bitterness in your voice. But you are direct. 

And, because he’s never been good at refusing you, he gives you something in return. “I guess I’m just surprised to see you here….” He recalls a conversation you’d had long ago, curled against his chest, staring up at the stars together. “Being a city girl and everything.” 

You turn to look over your shoulder, gaze making him feel warm, a small smile on your face. For a split second, you’re looking at him how you used to, and then it’s gone. “It is sort of a miracle, isn’t it?” 

He ponders this, and you continue. 

“It’s good to see you, Joel,” you say softly. He wonders how you can make general pleasantries sound so sweet, and is surprised at how easily you betray yourself with the words. Though he had noticed a pattern at dinner. You weren’t nearly as guarded as you used to be. He wonders how that’s possible, if you’ve made it this far. 

“You too.”

-

-

-

#they are getting there #eventually #anyways #but strap in #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller series #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #the last of us #the last of us writing #tlou #tlou writing #pedro pascal #troy baker #tommy miller #pre-outbreak! joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #ellie williams

[xiaosonlybeloved]

Hi! Saw your requests were open and I wanted to ask for Heizou and the Hanahaki prompt, please? 🙏🏼 you try your best to hide it from him but being the genius detective he is, he figures it out. I’d love to see how you write it!

Melancholy -Heizou

featuring:- Shikanoin Heizou, fem!reader, brief mentions of Kujou Sara tags:- Hanahaki AU, angst, hurt/no comfort, brief mentions of blood a/n:- im so so sorry anon for writing this so late! But here you go, and i hope you like it :) thank u for requesting! (i think it would kill me to actually write fluff for once)(also if i made a taglist, would you guys sign up?) wc:- 2.5k

masterlist

∼⟪◍⟫∼

‘He knew.’ You realised with a sinking heart as his firm eyes searched yours for answers, a hint of disbelief and concern in them. He’d figured it out.

∼⟪◍⟫∼

Everything started out small. It always does.

For you, it started the very day you two met, little by little. You’d needed someone to help you find and retrieve some books from your treasured collection that had gone missing, and good old Detective Heizou was the one assigned to help you.

He didn’t take long to draw you in. The charisma and confidence in his voice, the intelligence and wit sparkling in his eyes with a hint of mischief, the amusement dancing subtly across his face. Everything about him pulled you deeper in. Not to mention, you were incredibly impressed at how efficient he was at his job, despite his carefree, playful attitude- within 24 hours, each and every one of the missing books had been neatly stacked in a pile along with an apology letter from the thief, and Heizou had returned them to you, with that charmingly cocky grin of his. You’d thanked him profusely then, and he’d waved it off as just helping out a bit. He even refused to take payment, insisting that if you really wanted, you could repay him with a nice lunch or dinner.

Since then, your ‘friendship’ with Heizou only grew.with time.The next time you met, it was an accidental encounter in the streets of Inazuma, and then you’d repaid him with that promised lunch. After that, you two just seemed to bump into each other more often, or perhaps you both just noticed each other both. More than a year passed, and you two were fast friends.

Just friends.

You didn’t know when those pesky feelings started to develop, but they did, taking root in your heart like a bug. And your poor heart cracked a bit more everytime Heizou called you his best friend with a grin, or when he casually flirted with random people, your emotions covered with an airy smile that betrayed none of what you felt, unfortunately for you. If only he knew…

∼⟪◍⟫∼

“[Y/NNNN]!” Heizou called over to you with a grin as you stood talking to the owner of one of the flower shops in Inazuma, running over as if to give you some great news. Your heart jumped a bit to see him again, even if it had only been less than a day since you last saw him. “What is it now, ‘Zou?” you chuckled. “Which uncrackable case have you cracked now?” He stopped right in front of you, breathless. “Guess what? Kujou Sara confessed to me! Can you believe it? The high and mighty, proud general Sara?” He was laughing. 

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask your surprise and disappointment. She got there first, huh? “Well? What did you say?” “I said yes, of course. Now boom, we’re dating.” Heizou replied easily.

You took in a deep breath, feeling like a hundred knives had been stabbed into you. But you needed to hide it, because Heizou was still looking at you expectantly, awaiting your response.

You’d always be his best friend. Not his lover.

This cold truth seemed to sink into your heart, as you controlled your facial expressions, making an excited smile that probably seemed very fake to the sharp eyes of someone like Heizou. You quickly followed it up. “Dang, I never thought I’d live to see the day when you actually dated someone! Man alive, am I surprised.” Heizou laughed again, his eyes crinkling, driving the wedge deeper into your heart. “Never thought I would too.” Then looking at his phone, he apparently remembered something as he quickly said, “Oh darn, I totally forgot I had to meet up with a client right now. See ya around, [Y/N]!”

You smiled sadly as he ran away, your heartbreak now visible on your face. You return your attention to the store owner who looks at you curiously. “Sorry, Ma’am, but I won’t be needing the flowers anymore. Could you please cancel my order?” The lady looked at you in sympathy as she nodded, probably having figured out who you were planning to confess to.

Back at home, you suddenly doubled over in a coughing fit, your lungs hurting.

∼⟪◍⟫∼

You’d stayed holed up at home for the next few days. Believe it or not, it actually wasn’t because of your broken heart. You’d fallen ill, and it greatly annoyed you. You kept coughing your throat out, and it wasn’t stopping. You did go about your normal routine for the first few days after Heizou told you, but then it got bad and you started staying home. Your friends often visited you, keeping you company. With their presence, you did seem to get a bit better.

So why was it that Heizou coming over out of concern for you always made you cough more?

One evening, he’d come over like always, with some medicines this time for bad coughs. Looking at his worried face at your deteriorating health, you wondered just how cruel it was for him to be always looking out for you, never knowing what you felt for him or what being with him did to you. 

Unfortunately, it was in front of him that your illness grew worse- you started coughing out blood, him panicked and trying to help you. 

Once you were temporarily better, he was insistent on staying the night with you to make sure that you didn’t get worse, but you made him leave reluctantly to get some rest. Immediately, you seemed to breathe a bit easier, even though your throat felt like there were vines practically growing in it. With that came an inkling suspicion of why you weren’t getting better. But it couldn’t be that, right? 

Then, a week later, you coughed out your first petal, confirming your worst fears.

∼⟪◍⟫∼

Purple hyacinths were known to mean sorrow, longing, etc. 'How fitting.' You thought bitterly as you ruminated upon your less-than-ideal situation. You’d known for a while now that you held strong feelings for Heizou, but you never thought it would actually develop into Hanahaki. Damn it… What do you do now? You had to at least confess to Heizou for a chance at surviving, no matter how slim. But that would be very hard to do, considering he’s literally dating. That thought brought a bitter taste in your mouth. The other option would be to get the surgery, but it would mean removing Heizou from your life for good, but you weren’t quite keen on doing that. If not… You’d die.

No. You would most certainly not allow yourself to die for a failed love. Sure, you really loved him, but there was no point in throwing away your life for someone. 

As you were thinking about this, there came a series of soft but strong knocks at your door. With a sigh, you dragged yourself down the stairs to see the visitor, noting that the knocks didn’t sound like Heizou’s or anyone else. 

When you see the person at your doorstep, your eyes light up after a long while. “Kokomi!” You exclaim as you run to hug your old friend. You’d been forced to part with her after you shifted from Watatsumi Island to Narukami Island, but you’d regularly kept in touch. Kokomi frowned as you led her into your home. “You’re ill, aren’t you?” “Yes indeed, Doctor Kokomi.” You tried to joke. Kokomi narrowed her eyes at you. “You smell of blood. What sickness do you have? I can heal you.”

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of whether to tell her or not. Not because you don’t trust her- she’s probably your most trusted confidante apart from Heizou, but because you’re a bit afraid of her reaction. With a sigh, you say, “Hanahaki.”

You could see it in the way her eyes fell. “Who is it? Heizou?” She asked, immediately understanding. You sighed in affirmation. “Can you heal me?” This time, it was Kokomi who was hesitant as she responded, “... I do know how to conduct the surgery, but there’s no other way out unless you confess and he accepts.” You grimaced. “Can you please keep this a secret from Heizou for now? I’m still thinking on what to do.” She nodded, looking resigned, but said, ”Alright, but you need to decide fast. To me, it looks like your illness is already quite severe. There is a certain stage beyond which the surgery cannot be conducted and the only option is to confess or die.” You nodded. “Thank you so much, Kokomi.” A while later, after you two had caught up with other topics, she left to go to the hotel she was staying at, giving you her address and telling her to come see you immediately if anything happened, along with some medicines for delaying the growth of the hanahaki.

∼⟪◍⟫∼ 

While you were chatting with Kokomi, Heizou was flipping through books on diseases and illnesses. Needless to say, he was worried sick on seeing that it had been weeks and your condition had only grown worse. 

On a different note, he had just broken up with Kujou Sara that morning. Things just weren’t working out, and he wasn’t interested anyways- he just wanted to try things out. So now, he had more time to find something to cure you. 

He groaned as he went through the list of symptoms. He had a feeling that he knew what was wrong with her, but he was too afraid to admit it. ‘Heavy persistent coughs that slowly deteriorate to frequent bloody coughs, along with a feeling of being unable to breathe. In the last stage, which is almost certainly fatal during the later phase, the victim coughs out flower petals symbolic of their situation, along with blood. When the flower petals change into full blooms, the surgery cannot be conducted anymore, and the disease becomes fatal.’

His heart sank- his worst fear had been confirmed. You had hanahaki. He hadn’t yet seen you cough out flower petals though- so there was still time. He’d talk to you about it today, unsure of whether you knew about Hanahaki or not. 

He also wondered who it was who was dumb enough to not accept or return your feelings. He would, in a jiffy.

∼⟪◍⟫∼

You sigh a little, enjoying the cool breeze hitting your face after so long. You were going over to pay Kokomi a visit, taking this as an excuse to get out of your house, which had started to feel cramped and stuffy. But of course, your moment of pleasure just had to be interrupted by another bout of flowery coughs as you hurried into some street corner to ensure that no one sees it. As you hurriedly stuff the purple flower petals with red, bloody edges into a bag you were carrying, a voice calls out to you that made dread settle in your heart.

Heizou stands there, staring directly at you and the bloody purple petals in your hands. 

‘He knew.’ You realised with a sinking heart as his firm eyes searched yours for answers, a hint of disbelief and concern in them. He’d figured it out.

“You didn’t tell me it had gotten this bad.” Heizou said quietly, stepping closer to you. “I didn’t want you to know.” You murmured a response, looking down at your feet to avoid his stare, his eyes still looking at you in disbelief. “Why? Why, [Y/N], why? Who is this person?” 

You gulp under his stare as you debate whether to tell him or not. Yes, you knew he was dating Sara but still… You were on your way to Kokomi’s anyways. The opportunity had presented itself, you should take it. 

“It’s you, Heizou. You’re the one I love.” you whisper as you look up to meet his gaze.

You wish you hadn’t. Then you wouldn’t have seen the way the disbelief in his eyes changed into shock, surprise, and denial.

It was clear as day to you- Heizou didn’t return your feelings, you were dumb for thinking you had a chance.

You ran past him straight to Kokomi’s, wanting to escape. On the way, you could feel another round of flowers coming up your throat, but you held them down till you reached your destination.

Meanwhile Heizou stood still, shocked at what had transpired, a hand outstretched in the direction you had ran.

It was him.

As his brain finally processed things, he was still in disbelief and shock. He had been smart enough to figure out that you had hanahaki, but much too dumb to realise who it was directed towards. It was then that he forced his body to run, to search for you.

Late into the night, he still had no idea where you went, as he stood in the desolate streets of Inazuma, hands clenched.

∼⟪◍⟫∼

More than a year had passed since then, and he had no clue of your whereabouts, or if you were even alive or dead. Everytime he thought of you, regret and guilt filled him as he cursed himself out.. If only he’d told her his feelings instead of hiding them like an idiot. If only he’d run after her immediately. If only he’d figured out your feelings faster. If only, if only…

He was in Watatsumi Island for a new case, although his efficiency at work had decreased over the last year. He thought he might as well take some time off for himself, give himself some time to recuperate quietly. 

But it seemed fate had other plans for him, as his eyes fell upon a figure in the woods of Watatsumi Island, one more than familiar to him.

His heart jumped into his throat as the figure straightened, then turned to look at him. “...[Y/N]?” He ran towards you to engulf you in a hug, but stopped short on seeing the expression on your face. There was curiosity, but not an inkling of recognition.

Ah. So that’s why he didn’t see you anymore. You’d taken the surgery and moved out.

“Oh, do I know you? May I help you? I see you are new here.” You said with a kind, polite smile, the one that you usually reserved for strangers.

His heart and fists clenched as he realised that you had no idea who he was anymore. As he realised that once again, he was too late.

[requests are open for now (please check requests page) ] tags and comments are very much appreciated!

#skylia's works #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic #genshin angst #genshin #genshin drabbles #genshin oneshots #genshin hurt/no comfort #heizou #shikanoin heizou #shekinoin heizou angst #heizou angst #heizou hurt/no comfort #genshin hanahaki #shikanoing heizou x reader #heizou x reader

[ever-eilish]

hi! I'd love to see how you'd write chishiya. :)

If you don't have many ideas--maybe a simple scenario where the reader has night terrors and sleeps better with someone. So, she kinda just knocks on Chishiya's door, fully expecting him to dismiss her but he actually agrees.

If you want to turn it into smut, you do you!

Good night

chishiya x fem!reader

when sleepless nights are more common than usual, a very familiar face helps with the terror that comes when the sun goes down

author's notes: so, this is the very first imagine that l post on tumblr! I'm excited to know what you guys think about it :) thank you so much for requesting, I hope this is what you wanted!!! english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes, enjoy❤️‍🩹

warnings: none! just fluff ;)

Sweat dripped from my forehead and I could feel my heart pounding in my ribcage. Tears were forming in my eyes and my breathing was. heavy. The feeling of exhaustion gnawed at me more and more, but now it was impossible to close my eyes and rest again. Ever since I arrived in this place, I have had dreams - or rather, nightmares - every night. At first, I was able to go back to sleep; but the nightmares are getting worse. What was once just a distant image of all the horrors I've experienced here, are now people screaming and running after me.

"Murderer! Murderer!" They scream as they run towards me, with disfigured faces and bloody bodies.

I can't run, it's almost like my feet betray me and refuse to move. I get up from my bed and walk towards the door. I don't have time to think straight when I stand in front of Chishiya's bedroom door; again feeling betrayed by my own feet.

My relationship with Chishiya is complicated, we don't really like each other. It all started with a stupid game, in which only he and I made it out alive. However, what should be a reason for rapprochement, has become a reason for repulsion.

I don't know exactly why, maybe he just didn't really liked me, but I know that since then we've gone into a strange spiral of competition. In which every time I come back from a game he looks at me with that look of superiority that I hate so much, and acts as if the fact that I survived another game was a surprise; obviously, I do the same to him.

I can't quite figure it out, maybe for a subconscious reason, or maybe because he's the only familiar face on the beach, but now I'm knocking on his door.

I regret my decision the moment I put it into action, after all, it was obvious that he would not open the door.

Or maybe he'd even open the door and when he looked at my face, he'd give another one of his smirks and close the door. Or maybe he would even insult me for waking him up in the middle of the night just because I needed comfort. Maybe I should just go back to my room and spend another sleepless night trapped in my own thoughts. I was going back to my room when I hear the door open.

I turn around again and see the blond-haired man's face staring at me intensely, with a questioning look. An awkward silence ensues as I stare at him wide-eyed.

"I-I..." I can't finish my sentence.

Idiot, idiot, idiot! Why the fuck did I think it would be a good idea to show up at the door of the last person who would want to be woken up by me?

"You...?" he says, raising an eyebrow and looking in my direction. His eyes showed no judgment, but rather pure confusion.

"I had a nightmare, and..." onde again, I was not able to finish my sentence "I'll just go back to my room! Sorry if I bothered you!"

I and turn to go to my room again when I feel a warm hand touch my arm.

Something about that simple touch was different, it was almost as if with just one touch, he could soothe all my demons.

"Come in" he says in an indifferent tone, giving me room to enter his room. With a little hesitation I walk towards the room.

The place smelled of cinnamon, with a slight touch of sweetness. It was organized, and somehow I felt that Chishiya's room was a good representation of his personality; cold and not so cozy, but at that moment, that was all I needed.

"Are you going to stand there, or are you going to lie down?" he says, walking over to his king-size bed in the middle of the room. It was only at that moment that I noticed that he wasn't wearing his usual sweatshirt, but just a black t-shirt and sweatpants of the same a color.

I walk towards his bed and sit on the right side, suddenly feeling that my fingers were much more interesting than staring at the piercing brown eyes that were looking at me curiously.

"I don't bite" he says, again in an indifferent tone, and I look in his direction, noticing that he was now lying on his back "you can lie down, you look tired"

So I do as he says and lie on my back as well, staring at the dull white ceiling. The situation should be uncomfortable, and I should be wishing I could get out of here as soon as possible, but instead, I felt comforted by the warmth emanating from the body of the man lying just inches from me, and I wondered how long it had been since I felt such comfort.

"So, nightmares, right?" he asks and turns his head in my direction

"Yes, I guess"

"And may I know why you chose to come here?" he asks me.

His tone was not accusatory, but curious. What am I supposed to answer, anyway? I'm not even sure what I'm doing here.

"I have no idea" I answer honestly, and hear a faint laugh from my side, still refusing to look into his eyes. The room is silent again and I feel him moving on the bed to turn off a simple lamp with yellowish light arranged on the small table next to him, a lamp that I didn't even notice was on.

Now, with the total darkness, I can't help but feel more comfortable, my eyes heavy. It was suddenly, so suddenly that I almost couldn't believe it, that I felt Chisiya's arm go over my shoulders and pulling me slightly closer; Now, my head is millimeters away from his chest, and his arms are clinging to me, with his hand making small circular motions on my forearm. I don't dare say anything, I just let myself relax, snuggle into his embrace and focus on the circular drawings he made with his fingers on my skin, as I feel my eyes close and my body fall into a much-needed sleep.

Maybe it's the only time l've really been able to sleep well since I've been here.

Little did I know, that this was also the only time Chishiya had been able to sleep well since arriving in this hell.

#fanfic #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #chishiya x reader #write #aib chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya x you #chishiya x y/n #chishiya x fem!reader #chishiya fanfic #nijiro murakami #alice in borderland #alice in boderland x reader

[myhairpintrigger]

HII IM DEEPLY AMAZED BY UR WRITINGS CUZ U GOT ME GIGGLING LIKE A SCHOOLGIRL AND KICKING MY LEGS. ANYWAYS!!

I would like to request angst to fluff for Aleksander where they were past lovers but reader was killed just like what happened to Luda. Eventually on the present time (Alina's timeline ig), during the winter fete, Aleksander saw reader's face as Alina was doing her magic showcase ig and Aleksander followed reader outside (maybe for fresh air) and then thats when reader started getting flash backs maybe a headache (DO UR MAGIC HERE LOVE) and maybe when whe wakes up, he's asleep by her side and she just says "Sasha?" in that sweet tone and ALL FLUFF

(SORRY IF THIS WAS A BIT LONG, IM KINDA HAVING AN ENERGY OUTBURST)

hi my anon baby <3 i worked on this for a couple of days. sorry it’s so late!!! i feel as if i’ve seen a couple fics like this and i tried to make it as different as i could while still staying within the margins of your request… i hope it’s okay.

warnings: canon typical violence, character death (kind of?) blood, angst, fluff, all of it. just all of it.

word count: 4.7k

of Wildflowers & Damnation

(aleksander morozova x fem!reader)

-

Some days were easier than others. Just as on the other side of the coin, some days were harder. Inconveniently, today happened to be one of the harder days for Aleksander. He tried to reason with himself often that after nearly five hundred years of living, that he shouldn’t be so affected by loss anymore. 

That didn’t make it any easier, unfortunately. He’d lost so much in his life, that he didn’t mourn so heavily, and then he’d lost you. 

He’d met you nearly two hundred years after the creation of the fold, and to say he loved you would be to say it was only a bit cold in the arctic, which is to say, it was a gross understatement. He loved you more deeply than he ever knew was possible, and perhaps that’s why it was so terribly hard to accept even all these years later, that you just weren’t alive any longer, while he lived on. 

He had tried to bring you back, he really did. Much to his mother’s dismay, for the second time in his life, he resorted to the use of merzost to heal you. But you never woke. 

Aleksander stood silently near his door. It was nearly time for him to find Alina, to join the festivities at the Winter Fete, to show the country’s most influential just how powerful the Sun Saint really was. He knew it was time to go, but his mind wouldn’t rest.  It wouldn’t stop replaying your last day with him. 

-

The two of you walked hand in hand through the forest that was just behind your small home. Aleksander wasn’t normally one for such plain and domestic types of endeavors, but the wildflowers were blooming in the valley at this time of year, and he wanted nothing more but to see you smile at them, as you did every year before that. 

“Do you have a favorite flower, Sasha?” You had asked him softly and looked up at him with a big grin. You better than anyone knew that he wasn’t much of a flower person, but the question was still on your mind as you walked together. 

He thought to himself for a moment as he peered down at your excited face and then he shrugged, “Oh, there’s too many to choose from, my lovely. Perhaps a dandelion.”

“Dandelions are weeds, Aleksander.” You pointed out and he shook his head and nudged your side. 

“They still bloom, do they not?”

You didn’t seem to like this answer, because you simply huffed under your breath and gave his hand a little squeeze, “Okay but I meant a real flower. Not a little yellow weed.” You insisted. 

He thought for a moment longer and then he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline, “Alright. Poppies.” He finally conceded and you seemed to like this answer much more than the last, because you hummed and sidled up to him sweetly, your head resting against the side of his arm. 

“Poppies. I would’ve taken you for a rose person.” You mused. 

“And why roses?” He asked, curious to hear your response. 

“Because. They’re terribly beautiful, but you wouldn’t dare just grab one recklessly. They’re covered in thorns. You have to be gentle with them, work around the thorns. Then it’s yours to have. Kinda like you. Just gotta work around your thorns.” You replied and then let out a tiny giggle, “At least, that’s what I did. Seemed to work out just fine for me.” 

Your words made his chest feel as if it was flooding with impossible new amounts of affection for you and he stopped the two of you where you walked and he leaned down to delicately wrap both of his arms around your waist. You eagerly wrapped your tiny arms around his shoulders and he moved down a bit more, closer to your level. 

To Aleksander, you were the sweetest thing in the world. Everything from your kind smile to your fiery attitude made him swell with love for you. To love and be loved in return was such a strange concept for him to grasp. Especially when the returned love was given by such a gentle soul such as yourself. He often found himself unworthy of such a love, unworthy of your kindness, your care, your acceptance. You knew of his past transgressions, yet you loved him anyways, always insisting that mistakes get made. Everyone messes up. To the world, he was The Darkling. The Black Heretic. A wicked man with a soul as dark as his eyes. That version of himself even existed in his own mother’s eyes. But to you, he was simply Aleksander. 

He held you even tighter now and he buried his face in your hair for a long time before he slowly pulled away from you and brought his hands up to delicately cup your face. He held your face so gently as if he was convinced it would shatter between his fingers and he watched your eyes, fascinated by you. 

“What a sweet little thing, you are. What did I ever do in this life to have been blessed with such a love?” He asked softly, leaning down to nudge his nose against yours a few times. 

“If I had to guess, it might have had something to do with your sympathy for weeds. I suppose they need love too.” You teased, and he didn’t even bother rolling his eyes at your teasing before he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. You kissed him back and placed your hands on top of his, letting out another little giggle into his mouth. He pulled back and watched you in amusement, a smile spreading across his own face. 

“What could you possibly be laughing at during a moment like this?” He asked and you scrunched your nose up and patted the backs of his hands a few times. 

“Your beard tickled my lip.” You replied gleefully, your eyes meeting his in a mirthful gaze. 

He slowly pulled away from you and took your hand again, pulling you into his side as the two of you started to walk once more, “Shall I cut it then?” He asked and chuckled. 

You practically skipped alongside him as the two of you walked and you shook your head, “No. I think you look handsome. But you might need a haircut soon. You’ve got bangs nearly.” You pointed out and reached up with your free hand to push a strand of hair away from his eyes, “Don’t worry. I can do it for you.” You added and laid your head against the side of his arm once again. 

He laced his fingers in between yours and gave your hand an affectionate squeeze as he led you down along the dirt path, “How have your lessons with my mother been going?” He asked. 

It was your turn to nearly roll your eyes now and you took a quick glance up at Aleksander, “Well. She doesn’t like me much, and I’m still not very good at controlling my fire so… to be continued. Maybe. I don’t know. Perhaps I just don’t want to learn anymore. I have no use for these powers.” You replied and tapped the side of his hand with your pinky finger. 

You were an Inferni, a poor one at that. Normally Aleksander would protest and tell you to embrace your gift but he didn’t this time, resigning to let you speak your mind. If you didn’t want to pursue your abilities, he wouldn’t force you, “I don’t think she dislikes you.” He replied down at you finally. 

“Oh, I think she does. She’s always got a backhanded comment locked and loaded just for me.” You argued with a little sigh. 

Aleksander knew it wasn’t you that she disliked in specific. It was just the fact that his mother disliked the fact that he was selfish enough to let himself love you. She always insisted that he’d ruin you, just like the girl he loved before you. She insisted that he wasn’t meant for you, always telling him to set you free before he inadvertently broke your wings. Deep down, he knew his mother was right. She usually was. But he couldn’t bring himself to ever make you leave. Not now. He was too far in. 

He shook his head a couple of times and sighed, “She’s not exactly inviting. But that’s not to say she dislikes you. Don’t pay her any mind, my love.” He replied and then brought your intertwined hands up to his lips so that he could place a few light kisses to your knuckles.

He lowered your hands back down between the two of you once again and he glanced up over the hill in the distance. You two were nearly to the small valley and he could tell your excitement was growing, because your steps got more hurried and you occasionally would let out giddy squeals and hums. 

A snap of a stick on the path behind you had Aleksander sweeping you in front of him as he turned around to survey the area. The two of you had stopped walking now and he looked around behind both of you, finding nothing. 

“What was that?” You asked quietly and glanced up at your lover, feeling a bit uneasy. 

“I’m not sure, darling.” He replied cautiously and turned back around to glance down at you. 

Your eyes were already fixed up on his face. You didn’t look scared, but you didn’t look like you felt too secure either, and he didn’t blame you. Something had shifted in the forest around you two, there was a strange feeling. You grabbed onto his arm tightly and you gave it a little tug. 

“Sasha, we don’t have to go any farther. We can head back home now.” You whispered, but he shushed you softly and turned back around slowly to check the path behind the pair of you. 

A small snapping sound came again, but this time it was now in front of the two of you. There was a little shuffle and another snap and he felt you yank his arm again.

“Aleksander.” 

He turned around as your grip on his arm loosened and he looked down at your face, which was now drained of color. You wobbled a bit and fell forward onto him, and he swiftly caught you with a shocked exclamation of your name. 

He held you upright and that’s when he saw the arrow that had lodged itself in your back and stuck out through your chest. He wildly looked around and had spotted two men in thick furs darting out from behind a tree. Drüskelle. He had barely a second to move the two of you before they let loose another arrow and he retaliated quickly. 

One of the men let out a yell in their native tongue and Aleksander wasted no time in quickly diving down to the ground with you as another arrow flew. He gently sat you up against one of the small trees on the edge of the path and turned around, and with zero hesitation, finished the two men off easily with The Cut. As they fell to the ground, he looked around for more. When none came, he turned to you and scooped you up into his arms as quickly as he could, not daring to pull the arrow from your chest quite yet. 

“Hey, hey. Y/n. You’re going to be alright.” He insisted. 

But the way your head lolled to the side weakly made him think otherwise. You didn’t respond to him, but you looked up into his eyes, tears beading in the corners of yours. 

“We’re going home. I’m taking you to my mother, we can fix this.” He promised and didn’t wait a single second more before he was dashing off down the path with you hanging all but limply in his arms. He could feel the warmth of your blood seeping through the sleeve of his shirt and he grit his teeth, refusing to let himself panic. You were going to be okay. You had to be. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Aleksander was going to let you go now that he had finally found you after years upon years of being alone. He didn’t notice the tears gathering in his own eyes until they were falling down his cheeks and you let out a distressed sound.

“No, Sasha. Don’t cry. It’ll be okay.” You whispered hoarsely, and the sound of your voice only made it worse.

He ran straight out of the forest and through the field behind your home before he finally ran through the back door. He laid you down on your side atop the round wooden table in the middle of the room and he yelled for his mother, who came shortly after he called. 

“Mother. We need to do something. Drüskelle, in the forest attacked us, and they-“ he started frantically, only to be cut off by the older woman.

“There is nothing you can do, Aleksander.” She said shortly and then shook her head, “We don’t have a healer nearby. We aren’t healers ourselves.”

He looked over at you, and you seemed so much smaller than usual now, curled up on the table with an arrow still protruding from your back, “Mother, there has to be a way. I will not let my lover die.” 

“There is no way. There is no natural way for us to save lives. You know this. Bid her goodbye.” She said sternly. 

His head perked up a bit and he reached out to make sure you were still alive by touching your pulse. 

Weak, but still there. Just barely. 

“But I can. I can do it, I’ve practi-“ 

“You cannot!” She protested and held her hand up to her son, “You will not! You will take whatever time you have left and say goodbye, for it is only the way of life. We see life come and go and we remain. Not even you can change that. I’ll give you space. That is final.” Baghra said sharply and turned on her heel to leave the two of you alone. 

Aleksander was at your side in half a second, and he crouched down to be level with your face. Tears were rolling across your face and your lip trembled fearfully. 

“It doesn’t hurt, Sasha. Don’t worry about me please.” You whispered and he reached out to brush tears from your eyes. 

“I’m going to fix this. Okay? You aren’t going to die today. I swear it.” He promised, but his faith was running thin. He reached out and he grabbed your arm gently and held you in place, “I’m going to remove the arrow, okay? And then we’re going to heal you.”

“You are not a healer, Aleksander. Don’t do this.” You begged softly and he looked down into your eyes again. He pursed his lips and shook his head a few times. 

“I won’t lose you. I won’t walk this earth without you by my side, do you understand?”

“No, Aleksander, no.” You protested, trying your best to sound stern like Baghra had, but your voice faltered and he knew you didn’t have much time left. 

He ignored your protests and grabbed hold of the arrow and quickly pulled it out of your back, and whatever voice you had left was spent on the wail you let out as your blood began to freely spill out over the table. He quickly threw himself over you, only to find you shaking. He looked down at your face to learn that your shaking was from your silent sobs and he frowned deeply. 

He was going to save you. It was going to be alright. 

He closed his eyes and placed his hand over the bleeding hole in your back, wracking his brain for the strength to use the magic so forbidden that had been abused by his ancestor, to heal you. To save you. 

He let out an agonized yell and finally felt the same cold, pricking sensation spread through his veins that had occurred the day he created The Fold. He felt stinging in his fingertips as he pushed out everything he could from his hand into your wound. Into you. 

At long last, the stinging stopped and subsided, and Aleksander realized you’d gone still under his touch. He felt a little splash of relief and he turned you around onto your back, only to find your eyes closed. He felt his face drain of all color and he shakily reached up to feel your pulse against your throat. 

Nothing. 

To say the days following were that of pure anguish was to put it lightly. He’d taken you to the valley of millions and millions wildflowers and laid you to rest there. At least he knew you’d be somewhere you loved. 

For weeks after your death, Baghra was full of warnings and disappointment for him, chastising him for using merzost once more. 

“You don’t know what you’ve done, Aleksander. You may have very well not healed your lover, but you don’t know what you’ve done. This will come back to you one day. You will regret it. There will be punishment.” She warned.

Not that he cared. 

“Let me regret it. Let it haunt me for the rest of my days, woman. It’s not the only ghost that hangs above my head, now.”

-

You didn’t recall much. At all. All you knew is that one day you suddenly did recall, as if it was the beginning of your life. 

Amnesia the doctor called it. You’d likely had a head injury and forgotten things, that’s all. 

Whatever you were before, whatever life you led, it was erased from your mind without a single clue as to what it had been prior. In the last few years that you started recalling, you’d worked as a dress maker in the city of Ketterdam. When one of your clients had graciously invited you to come to Ravka’s Winter Fete with her and her daughter in trade of two elegant gowns for them, you’d accepted her offer immediately. 

So there you stood, in the hallway of the crowded Ravkan palace, eyes traveling the faces of everyone who passed by. The two girls you’d attended with had gone off to greet the royal family, and you’d stayed back, opting to survey the crowd instead. You’d heard word that the Sun Summoner was going to be putting on a display in only a few short moments, and just as the thought crossed your mind, it all began. It started with a whirlwind of activity, and you watched the Grisha throughout the room showcase their abilities skillfully, and the sight invoked a strange feeling deep within your chest. You had the sudden urge to bring your hands together just as they did, feeling as if you could perform alongside them. You fought the urge back and flexed your hands a bit at your sides, shaking off the strange feeling.

Your eyes travelled to the front of the room and they fell upon a girl and a man, standing shoulder to shoulder, both wearing black. You assumed it was the Sun Summoner and who you had heard to be General Kirigan, the fierce Ravkan general who also happened to be Grisha. As the pair began their display of power, you felt your head begin to ache dully, and once the Sun Summoner’s light lit up the entire room, the pain in your head only grew sharper. 

Everyone in the room seemed to be filled with excitement, and as the display was done, the volume seemed to increase tenfold, making you clutch your head between your palms. 

The pair at the front of the room turned around and when you saw The General’s face, you blinked a few times. A thought clawed at the inside of your mind, begging to be let free. But you didn’t know how. You didn’t even know what it was. He seemed to notice you shortly after you noticed him, and you could’ve sworn you saw a look of complete astonishment cross his face as quick as a flash of lightning.  

Suddenly the room seemed to blur out as if in your periphery and you gasped as little flickers of imagery flashed behind your eyes. 

A field of flowers, the darkest eyes you’d ever seen, and fire. You furrowed your brow together and you leaned your hand up against the nearest wall, your chest rapidly rising and falling with short, quick breaths. Disorientation fell upon you and you found yourself stumbling through the crowd of partygoers and out of the room. The bustling hallway was a struggle for you to navigate, but you eventually prevailed and found the door to the courtyard. You all but went falling out the door and you stumbled clumsily until you reached grass and you held your hand to your chest as you stopped running. You felt sick to your stomach and your hands began to feel clammy and you swore that you heard someone calling your name- though you were unsure how you knew the name was yours- because you hadn’t been called by it before. You couldn’t even respond in anyway before your eyes rolled back into your head, and you were collapsing backwards towards the ground. 

-

Aleksander felt insane when he followed you out of the palace. He’d had days where all he could do was think of you, but never once had he seen your face anywhere but his mind. He called after you, but you didn’t seem to notice, and if you did, you didn’t respond. He walked briskly up to you just in time to watch you collapse, and he lunged forward to catch your falling body in his arms awkwardly. The strange angle at which he held you up at made you look so small and fragile, and he hoisted you up into his arms. It couldn’t be you. There was no possible way it could have been. He didn’t dare look down at your face for a few moments, standing there in the courtyard with his jaw set firmly. 

Finally, he did dare to look down, and when he did, he almost found himself collapsing with you. Sure, you were unconscious and your hair had become a bit tousled, but there was no mistaking the face that he saw. It was yours. His y/n. 

He looked around wildly, trying to come up with an explanation for the mere fact that his very dead lover was here. How you were here. He buried you. He reached up with one hand and he brushed the backs of his fingers across your cheeks. He refused to let himself feel relieved or happy or excited. If this was the punishment his mother had promised him years ago, he wouldn’t give in. But he couldn’t just leave you. Not out here, not like this. He stood with you in his arms for a while longer in contemplation before ultimately deciding he’d take you back to his chambers and wait for you to wake. If you woke. Then he’d proceed to ask who you were, to figure out what was happening. 

He carried you off through the night towards the nearly deserted Little Palace, and once inside, he made a beeline for his bedroom. Once he reached the shelter of his room, he closed the door fast and locked it, looking around to make sure no one was inside. He promptly walked you to his bed and laid you out on it, staring down at you. The urge to lay at your side was consuming his every thought and he ground his teeth together, fighting back a round of tears. 

Yours was the face he saw when he fell asleep. Every night. Some dreams were pleasant. You and him in the flowers, or even in bed together, happily. He’d hear your laugh, your hums, your sweet voice… all of it. Some dreams were not so kind, and these were the ones where he relived your last moments over and over again. 

His endless patience had seemed to run out and his will to remain complacent broke. He’d take the pain of having to lose you again if this wasn’t real, he’d be damned all over again to feel the emptiness of your loss if only just a moment of his time could be spent by your side one last time. 

So he kicked off his boots and removed his black decadent kefta, and he slid down into the bed next to you, his eyes not leaving your face once. He reached out across the minimal space he gave between the two of you and he grazed his fingertips across your cheekbones, up into your hair, down the side of your neck and along your jaw. Everywhere. He traced the outline of your lips and he swiped the pad of his thumb across your chin. Not a single thing had differed from his memory. If you’d told him he’d plucked you out from behind his eyes and laid you out in front of him, he would’ve believed it. 

Oh yes, if he was to be damned with the consequences of trying to save you, then he’d take them. He’d take them graciously if it meant one last night at your side. 

-

He was unsure of when he fell asleep, but he didn’t ever realize that he had until he felt hands on his face. His eyes shot open and he expected sunlight to light up his room, but instead it was dark, with only a glimmer of silver light filtering through the window. He frantically looked across from him on his bed and he reached up to push the hands away from his face, but once his eyes focused in the moonlit room, he dropped his hands and found himself lost in your eyes instead. 

Your hands stayed against his cheeks and you seemed to be at a loss for words. He knew the feeling well. It was mutual. 

The state of unconsciousness you had fallen into had been one of unrest. Memories upon memories began to flood your head all at once. Still, you were unaware of how you were alive and how you had come to be unearthed, but you assumed it must have had something to do with the merzost that you so vehemently opposed him using. 

He reached out to touch your face so gently, as if he thought you were only a figment of the moonlight and would disappear underneath his touch. When you didn’t, he let out a sigh, one that sounded terrified and relieved all at the same time. You couldn’t find your voice while you stared at him, your mouth wanting to form a thousand words all at once. 

Until it settled on just one.  

“Sasha?”

To Aleksander, this was the sweetest sound he’d heard in his entire long life, and he couldn’t help the tears that loosed themselves from his eyes. He could only nod in response as he wrapped his arms around your small form and he pulled you against his chest. 

If this was damnation, then he’d embrace it with open arms, and if this was a second chance to save you from the consequences of his past, then he’d do better this time. Whatever the case may be, he wasn’t going to leave this room until he was sure you wouldn’t evaporate into nothing. He laid his hand ever so protectively against the back of your head and he leaned his own head down until his lips touched your hairline. He could’ve whispered a million things to you at that moment, promised you everything, sung you praises and profess his love until he ran out of the breath to do so with, but he’d never been one for that many words all at once. So he leaned down to press his lips against yours, and it said everything he couldn’t all at once. He pulled back slowly and he tipped your head back a bit so that he could gaze down at your face, unchanged by all this time. 

And so he uttered out a promise, one that he intended to keep this time, no matter the cost.

“Yes, my sweet girl. It’s me, and I will never lose you again.” 

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