#I AM PHYSICALLY TURNING INTO A SHRIMP | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lyn31 · 5 days ago

Note

Hi! Your writing is amazing and wholesome! I have a request if you don’t mind.

Can you write one where MC is visually paired/blind and feels guilty for relying on Zayne to take care of her? Like she’s no longer employed as a hunter and needs a lot of help with day to day things. MC feels like she’s burdening Zayne but he’s happy she trusts him to rely on him.

This could be amazing as a hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending piece. Thank you for your time! 🩵

Thank youuuuu 💕 I'm glad you're enjoying my writing but also how are you guys saying my writing is so wholesome and then asking just the saddest thing 🥹 and here I am enabling you guys ahahahaha

But anyway, what a request, from someone with such a shit eyes and cannot do anything without my glasses, losing my sight is one of the thing I'm afraid the most... So this was really hitting me... Although it wouldn't be the same, I try my best! Hope you like it! 🥹🫶🏻 Let me know what you think! 💕

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Seeing You

Summary

After a mission leaves you in the dark, with only the sound of your own breath to anchor you, Zayne is there—steady, patient, and always present—even when you can’t see him. You’re learning to navigate the silence, the hesitation in your steps, and the quiet adjustments he makes to help you find your way, but the weight of needing him still feels too heavy.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader CW: Losing eyesight, adjusting emotional and physically, hurt/comfort, establish relationship, sad and sweet!

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It’s been three months since that mission. Three months since the blast knocked you backward. It went dark—and stayed dark.

No light. No outlines. No vague movement. Just the memory of color and the sound of your own breath in the void it left behind.

You’re curled up on the couch now, knees tucked under your chin, your fingers absently worrying at the hem of your sweater. You’re still not used to the silence—not the real kind, but the kind that comes when you can’t anchor yourself to anything. You can’t scan your surroundings. You can’t gauge the time by the position of the sun through the windows. You can’t even see Zayne, though you know he’s there.

You hear the soft click of the stove turning off. The scent of shrimps and roasted vegetables still hangs in the air, rich and warm and a little bit sweet—he made your favorite again, not that you��d asked. You don’t really ask for anything these days.

A gentle scrape of a spoon against ceramic, the low thud of a cabinet closing. He moves around the kitchen quietly, but not in a way that hides him. You can always tell where he is now—by the soft brush of his clothes when he passes, the steadiness of his breathing, the tiny pauses he makes when he’s about to speak but lets you take the lead instead.

You shift, reaching out for the coffee table you know is just a foot or so away, fingertips hovering in the air like you’re afraid of touching wrong. You’ve done that more than once—brushed too hard, bumped too fast, knocked over whatever he’d set down for you.

You pull your hand back and curl into yourself instead.

You used to be a Hunter. You used to walk into danger without flinching, shout orders without second-guessing. Now you hesitate before every step, memorize the number of paces from the couch to the kitchen, trace the edges of every wall and object like they’re foreign terrain.

And Zayne—he just keeps showing up. Cooking meals. Leaving your mug always in the same spot. Letting you listen to the news through his holoscreen instead of reading reports. Helping you dress without saying a word about it, even though you know he notices when you pause—fingers lingering over the curve of your waist or the scar near your collarbone, trying to remember what you look like now.

You hate needing this much. You hate how fragile it makes you feel.

You sink deeper into the cushions and let out a breath that feels too heavy for your chest.

Zayne doesn’t say anything. Just sets a bowl on the coffee table—gently, like he knows you’re listening—and walks around to sit beside you. The couch dips under his weight. His presence radiates calm, a low thrum of quiet strength, and part of you wants to lean into it. But you don’t.

Because he’s still whole. And you… you don’t know what you are anymore.

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The kitchen still smells like the meal Zayne made earlier. You’d insisted on rinsing the dishes yourself, even after your hand brushed the edge of a plate too fast and sent it clattering. That one hadn’t broken. This one does.

You’re trying to find the sink. Your fingers skim the counter, the edge of the drying rack, too fast, too eager to prove you still can. And then—

Glass hits tile.

It shatters loud, sharp, immediate.

Somewhere beneath your ribs, your breath catches. You freeze.

And then the tears start. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just this slow, helpless stream that slips out before you can pull yourself together. You press your palm flat to the countertop, jaw trembling, but the pressure doesn’t ground you like it’s supposed to.

You don’t even hear Zayne coming.

One moment you’re alone, holding your breath like you can rewind time if you just stay still. The next, he’s there.

You feel the air shift before you hear the soft rustle of his sleeves, the quiet clink as he picks up the larger pieces, careful and methodical.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, though your voice cracks. “I didn’t cut myself.”

But he doesn’t take your word for it. His hands find yours gently, his cool touch steady against your skin—unmistakably him. His thumbs brush across your knuckles as he turns them over, checking for blood. You feel his breath when he exhales, low and steady, like he’s trying to pass the calm into you.

And maybe that’s what undoes you.

“I hate this,” you manage, your voice tight, hoarse with the effort not to break further. “I can’t do anything, Zayne. You’re always cleaning up after me. I can’t fight. I can’t even walk across the room without bumping into something.”

You expect silence. Or worse—reassurance that sounds like pity. But when Zayne answers, his voice is low and even, every word weighted with quiet conviction.

“You don’t have to fight for anyone right now,” he says. “You just have to let yourself heal.”

You open your mouth—to argue, maybe. But he’s not finished.

“And I’m not cleaning up after you,” he adds, his hands still around yours. “I’m just… here. With you.”

His tone doesn’t shift, doesn’t soften with sympathy or hesitation. It’s not a line he practiced, or a comfort he thinks you want. It’s just truth. Plain and steady.

You don’t know what to say to that. Not yet. But you lean forward, forehead pressing into his shoulder, and he lets you stay there as long as you need.

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You’ve stopped asking.

Not just for the little things, but for the bigger ones, too. Not like before, when the silence came from grief. Now it’s sharper—calculated. You tell yourself if you just manage on your own, even a little, you’ll stop feeling so heavy in the space between you and Zayne.

It’s not that you don’t need help—god, you do—but there’s something in you that can’t bear the sound of your own voice when you ask for it. When you ask where something is, when you hear the pause in Zayne’s breathing because he knows you’re trying to do it alone again.

You’ve memorized every corner of the apartment now. Counted the steps between walls. Traced the edges of cabinets and drawers like braille. And still, you trip. You reach too far. You knock things down.

You never say anything when it happens. Just sweep up what you can and pretend nothing’s wrong.

Until tonight.

Zayne’s shift ran late. You told him not to worry, that you’d be fine, that you might even be asleep when he got back. But sleep doesn’t come. Only noise—quiet and sharp—the kind glass makes when it slips from trembling fingers and meets tile.

You’re on the floor when he walks in. Knees tucked underneath you, hands moving gently over the broken dish like you could will it back together by touch alone. Your fingers skim each shard carefully, as if mapping it with memory might fix the cracks.

You don’t even look up when the door opens.

You whisper, like you’ve been holding the words in for hours.

“I thought if I just tried harder…” Your voice is barely audible. “Maybe I wouldn’t need you so much.”

Zayne doesn’t speak right away. No gasp, no rush to fix it. Just the soft thud of his coat sliding off, the quiet tap of shoes being set aside, and then—

He kneels beside you. Not in front of you, not across—just next to you.

His hands find yours gently. Thumb brushing the back of your wrist, then his fingers closing around yours to ease the shards from your grip. You feel the sting now—tiny cuts you didn’t notice in your panic, dull and blooming with heat.

Still, he doesn’t scold. Doesn’t even sigh.

He just wraps his arms around you, slowly, like he’s giving you time to lean in if you want to. You do.

“You’re not weak for needing someone,” he says, voice low against your ear. “You’re brave for letting me in. For trusting me with this part of you.”

You press your face into his shoulder and breathe—finally, deeply, like your chest had been locked shut for days.

“You are never a burden,” Zayne murmurs. “If anything, I’m grateful you let me be here.”

He holds you tighter—not caging, just certain.

“You’re still you,” he adds. “You always will be.”

You don’t answer right away. Your throat aches too much to speak, and your hands are still trembling. But you nod, barely, and he feels it.

He stays with you on the floor until the shaking stops. Until your breathing slows. Until you’re ready to let him help you up—not because you can’t, but because you don’t have to do it alone.

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It’s been weeks since that night on the floor. Weeks since you let Zayne pull you close and whisper the words you needed to hear, the words you didn’t know you were waiting for.

Things don’t always feel easier, but they feel different now—less like the weight of your injury is pulling you under, and more like you’re learning how to breathe again. Zayne’s been a constant, never pushing, always there with quiet reassurance and those small adjustments that mean more than you ever expected.

He’s marked the apartment with subtle cues—soft fabric along the edge of the counter so you can feel it with your fingertips, a slight texture on the edge of the hallway wall that helps guide you without needing to ask. He’s arranged things so you can always find what you need without fumbling too long. The light switch for the bathroom has a tiny bump on it, and the door to the bedroom has a narrow line of tape so you know where it opens.

It’s not about making you reliant on him—it’s about helping you find a new way to move, to navigate.

And then there’s the audio device. You don’t know exactly when he got it, but one day he’s setting it up on the desk, programming it with your Hunter files. You can still help with missions, still offer advice, analyze strategy—all with just your voice. He never calls it retirement. Always, it’s a new way to fight.

It’s not the same as holding a blade or charging into the field, but your voice still cuts through static, still steadies others when they’re lost. Maybe it was never about the way you fought—maybe it was always about why.

You’ll never get used to how much he sees you, even when you can’t see yourself.

Today, you’re standing in the living room, fingers tracing the edge of the couch. The room is quiet, but it’s a good quiet. The kind that means you’re not trying to force yourself into something you’re not anymore. You’re just… moving forward.

You reach out instinctively. You know the kitchen is just a few steps away, and you trust the path Zayne’s mapped for you. One step, two steps, and then—

The edge of the doorway. Your shoulder brushes the frame but doesn’t slam into it. Not this time.

You stop. A soft laugh escapes you, more of a breath than anything, and you take another step, slowly, just to test it. And then you do laugh, quietly, like it’s a secret you’re finally letting go of.

“That’s the first time I didn’t smack into the doorway,” you say, almost in disbelief.

You pause, listening. Zayne’s footsteps are familiar now—the soft tap of his sandals against the floor, the subtle shift in the air when he’s near. And then, you feel him there, close enough that his warmth almost brushes against you.

Without a word, his lips find your temple, pressing gently, a quiet reassurance that you don’t need to see to feel. His presence wraps around you, steady and constant.

“Proud of you,” he murmurs, voice low and sure. “Told you—you’ve never stopped moving forward.”

You let the words settle, his touch grounding you in a way that’s become as familiar as his voice. You can’t see him, but you can feel him in everything—his pride, his belief in you, the quiet patience that’s helped you find your footing again.

And maybe, just maybe, in this moment, you’re starting to believe in yourself again too.

The days are different now. The apartment feels smaller somehow, not in a suffocating way, but like it’s been rearranged, reorganized—not just by Zayne, but by the new rhythm of your life. You’re adjusting, one step at a time. And it doesn’t hurt as much anymore to ask for help, to trust that you’re not a burden. You’ve found a way to move with it, to move with him.

But today, Zayne’s quiet about something.

It’s only when you’re halfway through the process of organizing some files on the desk that you hear his footsteps shift on the floor, the faint sound of him standing still just to your side. His voice breaks the quiet, steady and calm. “Pack a bag. We’re going somewhere.”

You pause, fingers stilling on the papers. “Where?”

“Just trust me.”

The bags are packed without much question. A couple of hours later, you’re in the back of the car, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the air between you. You don’t ask more questions. You just let him drive, let him take you wherever it is he’s planned for you. When you reach the cottage, the quiet of the countryside surrounds you like a soft blanket.

It’s peaceful. Still.

And when you step out of the car, the air smells different—fresher, richer, filled with the scent of trees and earth. Your fingers brush through the grass as you step forward, the slight give beneath your feet grounding you in a way the city never could.

Zayne’s there to guide you, his hand just a breath away, his touch cool and steady as it always is. He doesn’t say much, letting the place speak for itself.

He leads you slowly, guiding you toward the water. You hear it before you feel it—the soft, rhythmic lapping just ahead—and that’s when you stop, sinking to the ground. Not falling this time—just grounding yourself, steady on your own feet. Zayne follows, settling beside you in the grass.

The air is warmer here, touched by the water’s presence. You can’t see it, but you feel it—the subtle pull of the surface, the gentle ripple that hums through the space like a heartbeat. You reach out beside you, and his hand finds yours without hesitation. Cool, steady, familiar. His fingers wrap around yours like an answer.

“You don’t have to see to know you’re in the right place,” Zayne says quietly, his voice like the rest of the world—calm, patient, and full of certainty.

You nod, letting your fingers drift out to feel the warmth of the air on your skin, then moving up to trace the curve of his jaw. His face is familiar beneath your touch, every line etched in a way that’s become a part of you. Your breath catches for just a moment, the weight of everything you’ve been through settling over you.

“As long as you’re here, I already know,” you whisper, feeling the words more than speaking them.

Zayne’s other hand moves to yours, stilling it for a moment, then pulling you gently against him. His lips brush your temple, light and soft like a promise.

“I’ll always be here,” he murmurs, his voice deep, steady. “Always.”

You don’t need to see it to know it’s true. The world is full of so much more than what you can see. The warmth, the trust, the unspoken bond between you—it’s all here. In this moment. And for the first time in a long while, it feels like everything is exactly where it’s supposed to be.

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Notes

Before I got teary eyes, this one is water work 😭 I cannot even imagine... too scary man, and I know I'm the one writing their exact reaction and dialogue but man... Zayne... where do I find this man??? He's not outside that's for damn sure 😦 I say it before but I really am my biggest fans, I like my joke, I like my story first so yk 😩🤣 Alright serious now, hopefully y'all enjoy this 💕

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elliesbelle · 1 year ago

Text

nobody compares to you

chapter 14

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, dealer!ellie, some setting is in a hospital, mentions of catheters and needles, descriptions and talk of anaphylaxis, mentions of financial difficulties, mentions of alcohol, mentions of toxic parents, mentions of death and suicide, minors do not interact

word count: 7.9k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

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i have a ko-if if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

palestine will be free

The first thing you feel is something plastic poking the inside of your nose. It smelled of chilly, medicinal air conditioning.

The next thing you feel is a massive, unpleasant weight on your chest. Then at the crown of your head. Then some weird pressure squeezing your calves every few seconds. Then an entirely full bladder.

“I need to fucking pee.” You mutter, voice dry and raspy.

“I think you can just go, dude.” A familiar voice replies.

You fight against the crustiness of your eyes but immediately regret it. All you can see through the slits of your eyelids is a harsh, white light.

“Am I… Am I fucking blind?” You whine.

“I’m pretty sure that your eyeballs are still inside your head. So hopefully not.” You hear the voice chuckle.

You fight against the unforgiving glare from above, forcing your eyes open. It takes a few moments to gain control of your body, but you’re eventually able to crane your neck towards where the voice had previously echoed from.

“J-Jesse?” You croak.

“Yeah. I’m here, bud.” Your raven-haired friend smiles.

You spot him to your left, sitting in, what appears to be, an uncomfortable armchair. He wore a blue disposable mask over his nose and mouth, his hair looking unkempt and unshowered, and you notice how his clothes look wrinkled and slept in.

“What happened? Are you alright? What’s going on?” You groggily inquire.

“You’re the one all strapped to a hospital bed, but you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

Jesse takes your hand and squeezes it appreciatively. He flashes you a soft, warm smile.

“How are you feeling?” He asks.

“I-I’m not sure…” You admit. “What… what the hell happened?”

“Well,” Jesse starts slowly. “You went on a date with Anderson to Orchards yesterday. At the end of it, you were being a total dummy and made out with her after she ate a whole plate of shrimp.”

“N-no, no,” You interrupt, scrunching your face up as you try to recall the previous day’s events. “She ate this whole soup thing for dinner. Some weird French dish with some weird-sounding name.”

“Bouillabaisse,” Jesse clarifies. “It’s a fish soup. It doesn’t always have shellfish in it, but hers apparently did.”

You groan.

“Oh, I am such a dumbass.”

“Please explain to me exactly how you were being a dumbass in this situation.”

“You literally just said that I was a dummy!”

“That was Jesse of the past. I’m a much more mature man now in my old age.”

You attempt to smack his arm, but he’s saved by the many coils of IVs attached to you, pulling your hand back.

As he playfully rebukes you for attempted physical abuse, another person enters the room. A kind-looking nurse walks in with a clipboard in hand. Wearing dark blue scrubs, a low ponytail, and a surgical mask, she greets you with a friendly wave. She approaches your bedside opposite Jesse, and her glasses-covered eyes indicate a friendly smile.

“Hi there,” She nods. “My name is Yoojin. I’m your nurse today. I’m so sorry for not being here when you woke up. I had to step out for a few seconds, but your brother here assured me that you were in capable hands.”

You turn to Jesse and mouth in amusement, “Brother?”

He suppresses a laugh.

“Later.” He whispers through his mask.

You turn to Yoojin with a small grin.

“No worries. I only just woke up now.” You assure.

She gives you, what you assume, is another smile under her mask.

“So how are you feeling?”

Jesse remained by your side the entire time, only leaving briefly when he needed to use the bathroom or take a call. He sympathized with your gripes about being bedridden, making lighthearted jokes about your catheter, messing around with the IPC devices off your legs over and over until a nurse came in and kindly asked him to stop.

The TV in your room wasn’t working, so he kept you entertained, cracking his usual dad jokes and telling some old stories of Jackson you hadn’t heard yet. You pretended not to notice that the anecdotes he’d recall always excluded an essential person in his childhood, and you tried your best not to remark on it.

After a couple of hours, Dina finally came around to visit. She walks in as you’re berating Jesse for stealing a fruit cup you knew you weren’t going to eat. The sight of her immediately warms your heart.

“Dina!” You exclaim. “Oh, I missed you.”

Dina sets her bag down next to Jesse, lowers her face mask for a moment to give him a quick peck on the cheek, and pulls up a chair next to him. She takes your hand and beams at you graciously. You notice that her eyes are slightly glassy.

“Oh, babe,” She sighs. “I missed you too. Sorry that I’m just getting here. Had to deal with a few things before I came over.”

“Don’t apologize, D. I’m just glad to see you.”

She squeezes your hand softly.

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” She gulps. “You worried us so much.”

“Sorry about that,” You grin sheepishly. “I was being a bit of a dummy.”

Dina blinks for a moment before giving Jesse a smack on the back of his head at this.

“Oy vey. You asshole.” She chides knowingly.

“Hey! No need to abuse me! I’m delicate.”

He caresses the spot where she hit him as you laugh heartily.

The couple recounts the events of last night for you, explaining in detail as much as they know. You listen without interruption until they reach the topic of your EpiPen.

“But how’d you guys get to my EpiPen so quickly? Did you pass by my apartment?” You ask them curiously. “I don’t mind if you guys did! It’s just not that close to the restaurant. Wouldn’t have made much sense to book it back to my apartment, honestly.”

Dina and Jesse share a look you don’t understand. Your eyebrows furrow, confused by their hesitation. Eventually, Dina responds.

“Uh, well…” She begins slowly. “Jesse actually happened to have a spare EpiPen at his place. Thank god, right?”

“You did?” You turn your head towards Jesse. “I didn’t even know you had one, Jesse.”

“Y-yeah,” Dina continues cautiously as you notice Jesse’s expression shift to a poker face. “He used to have an, uh, egg allergy growing up.”

“What?” You ask incredulously.

“Yup,” Jesse chimes in. “I grew out of it when I was in high school. But my mom still insists that I have an EpiPen on me. Just in case.”

You continue to look completely discombobulated. You don’t fully buy their story, especially since neither were looking you directly in the face. But you’ve always trusted Dina as a sister and Jesse like a brother, so you half-heartedly accept the tale they’ve decided to present you with.

“Oh, okay,” You say, slightly unconvinced. “Well, thank god for that, I guess. Is it okay that you used it on me, though? What if you suddenly need it again?”

“No worries,” Jesse assures you. “I’ll call my mom and ask her to send me a new one.”

His poker face improves, so you concede for now.

The couple continue to recount the previous day’s events until they eventually catch up to the present.

“Only family is technically allowed to visit you in the ICU,” Dina confesses at one point. “Jesse had to say he’s your brother to get past the nurses' station. The nurse manning the desk at the time could definitely tell we were lying, but she was really nice and allowed it anyway.”

“Oh, gotcha,” You say. “Well, you’re basically my brother, anyway.”

“You should feel so lucky to share the same genes as me.” He boasts, stealthily avoiding yet another smack from Dina.

“What about you, D?” You ask, turning towards her. “What did you say you were? My sister?”

“Nah, I didn’t wanna be siblings with Jesse, even just as pretend.” She grimaces.

“Okay, yeah, didn’t think of that,” You realize, scrunching up your nose in total disgust at the thought. “Gross.”

“Wouldn’t be able to get that image out of my head.” Dina shudders. “Anyway, I told them that I’m your life partner.”

“My what?” You giggle.

“Hey, it counts!” Dina defends. “Well, kind of. The nurse had to list me as your ‘spouse’ instead, which feels like a hate crime.”

“Oh, shut up.” You laugh as Jesse chuckles.

“What? You don’t wanna be married to me?” Dina asks in mocking shock and offense.

“I am absolutely honoured to be married to you,” You assure her. “I’m just worried about poor Jesse. How in the world are we supposed to break it to him that we’ve actually been married for over ten years?”

“Oh, please, Jesse’s known from the start that he’s always just been a side piece.”

“Hey!” Jesse interjects in indignance. “I’m right here.”

“Be quiet, side piece. The wife and I are speaking.” Dina waves him off.

You burst out into laughter at Jesse’s playfully hurt expression.

The three of you discuss what the doctors have told you, and you eventually bring up the conditions required of you to be discharged.

“I know that the doctors and nurses saved my life and whatever. And of course, I’m very grateful. And I truly do not mean any disrespect,” You say. “But I want to get the fuck out of here, uhh, right fucking now.”

Dina smiles and Jesse chuckles.

“I know, babe.” Dina sympathizes.

“You’ll be out sooner than you know, bud,” Jesse adds. “Don’t stress over it. We’ll get you out as soon as possible.”

“Oh!” Dina suddenly pipes up and reaches into her bag. “I can’t believe I forgot. I brought your phone. I was able to grab your purse for you before the paramedics took you away. I turned it off and charged it at home, so it should have some juice.”

She places your phone in your hand, and you flash her a grateful smile.

“D, you need to be canonized for your good deeds, I swear. With a statue and everything.”

“Oh, I know,” Dina smirks. “Brought your wallet too. Not sure if you wanna keep it here or bring it back to your apartment, though.”

“I’ll ask them if I can keep it here with me.”

A thought suddenly hits you.

“I’ll… I’ll have to figure out how to pay for all this when I get out.” You sigh.

“Oh, babe,” Dina says reassuringly. “Don’t worry about any of that right now. Just focus on resting, okay?”

“Your insurance will hopefully take care of a huge chunk of it,” Jesse contemplates. “It’s through your dad, right?”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” You say as your hands begin to fidget anxiously. “Something as big as this, they’ll probably contact my parents. I… I can’t let them know I’m in here. I know it’ll start shit and… I just know it won’t be good.”

The couple give you identical, concerned looks.

“D-do they know? Th-that I’m in here?” You ask timidly.

“Not that we know,” Jesse replies. “Neither of them is on your emergency contact list. And you know that Dina and I would never speak to either of them. Unless it’s to tell them to shove a stick up their respective asses.”

You and Dina giggle.

“Speaking of which,” Dina adds. “You can ask your uncle. I called him yesterday while you were still out. I hope that’s alright.”

“Oh, that was so thoughtful of you,” You say gratefully. “What did he say? I hope he didn’t worry too much.”

“Honey, you almost died. Of course, he’s worried. He loves you.” She checks the time on her phone. “He should be arriving sometime later today, actually.”

“Shit,” You groan. “He didn’t have to do that. He gets so busy with work during this time of the year. This must have been so inconvenient—”

Jesse suddenly takes his thumb and middle finger and flicks you on the forehead.

“What the fuck!” You exclaim in indignance, rubbing the spot you were hit, as Dina gives him another hard smack on the head. Jesse ignores you both.

“You are more important than any goddamn job that exists in the world, in the whole motherfucking galaxy. Your uncle loves you, just as we do. So no more complaining about it, dumbass.”

You give him a pouty look, but his words fill your heart.

Your best friends stay the rest of the time until your uncle arrives around midday. Relief and affection overwhelm you when he enters the room. You squeeze him with the tightest embrace you can possibly give for someone essentially strapped to their hospital bed. You ignore the loud beeping resulting from the tangling of your many IV wires.

After your friends help you unravel all the cords, they gather their things and get up from their chairs.

“We’ll let you guys talk.” Jesse says, offering his seat to your uncle.

“Oh, you don’t have to leave.” Your uncle graciously assures them.

“It’s alright; have some family time,” Jesse insists kindly. “I’m pretty sure she can only have two visitors at a time, anyway.”

The couple make their way towards the sliding glass door.

“I cannot express how grateful I am for you two,” Your uncle says before they exit. “Thank you for saving her life. And thank you for keeping me in the loop.”

“Please, no need to thank us, really.” Dina nods kindly. “She’s family. We would do absolutely anything for her.”

“That means you’re both family to me too.” Your uncle concludes. “Thank you.”

You hold back tears of vast emotion from three of the most important people in your life exchanging such caring sentiments. You’ve never felt luckier.

“We’ll be in the waiting room,” Jesse promises. “Let us know if either of you needs anything, okay?”

Jesse and Dina take their leave, and your uncle subsequently takes a seat next to you.

“Oh, Uncle,” You start before he can speak. “I’m so, so sorry. You shouldn’t have flown all this way. I can’t believe I was so stupid to have—”

“Hey, hey,” Your uncle interjects. “None of that. You have no reason to be sorry. You needed me, so I’m here. I’m not mad, and this is not your fault.”

Tears form in the corners of your eyes.

“I just feel like I’ve inconvenienced so many people. If I could have just paid attention…” You lament. “And now I’ve totally made you drop everything to be here. I know you’ve still got work—”

“You are a thousand times more important than my job, sweetheart.” He shakes his head and squeezes your hand, echoing Jesse’s previous words.

“But…”

“You are my family. Nothing is more important than that.”

You smile at his adamancy.

“And especially since losing Rafael,” He continues. “I think of you as my own.”

“I know, Uncle.”

You squeeze his hand back in affection.

“D-did…” You suddenly say. “Did you tell—”

“No, your mother and father don’t know a thing about this.” He answers insightfully.

“Thank god.”

“Did you want me to tell them?”

You grimace. Your uncle chuckles.

“I figured as much.” He surmises.

“I just don’t know how to keep this from them forever, though,” You continue. “They’ll see it through the insurance company. I…”

“Don’t worry about that. I can talk to the nurses later today before I leave, see if I can pay it in full myself without needing to use your father’s insurance.”

“Uncle, please. Please don’t do that. This is going to be so costly, and you’ve still got your mortgage and Raf’s leftover student debt—”

“I just want you to focus on getting better, alright? I don’t want anything else on your plate right now.”

“Uncle, promise me. Please. Please promise me. Do not spend a single cent on this. I want to do this on my own. I’ll figure it out. Please promise me.”

He gives you nothing more than a smile in response.

Your friends and uncle take turns rotating as your company for the rest of the day. They’d only leave your side when the doctors and nurses needed to conduct extensive tests to ensure that you were still stable. You were never on your own for more than a few seconds, your loved ones determined that you not feel alone.

You’d turned your phone on almost immediately after Dina’d handed it to you. But as a small, gracious gesture of appreciation, you had set it aside to give your visitors your undivided attention for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t until the evening, when your friends and uncle waved you goodbye as visiting hours ended, that you allowed yourself to finally glance at your notifications.

Anxiously picking your phone up, the first thought you have is to call Abby. Jesse and Dina had mentioned she was with them in the waiting room the night before. But, like your friends, she was informed that she wasn’t permitted to see you in the ICU as she wasn’t family. Dina and Jesse sent her home with the promise to let her know as soon as possible when you finally woke up and that you were alright.

You notice that she’d messaged you earlier in the day. But much too embarrassed to face her just yet, you decide instead to first call your old freshman roommate.

Tara picks up after only two rings, almost as if she’d been waiting by the phone for your call. She greets you with a happy shriek of your full name, an amused giggle escaping your lips as a response to her sudden enthusiasm.

“Thank fucking god!!! I’ve been waiting all fucking day to hear the sound of your voice!”

“Umm, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” You reply, smirking. “This is actually Satan, here to leave a message. I’m calling to let you know that I will be collecting your mortal soul sometime during the next 24 hours.”

“Oh nooooo,” Tara plays along. “What on earth have I done to warrant eternal damnation, Miss Satan?”

“Not sure if you know, but homosexuality is actually a cardinal sin. And unfortunately, you seem to be a notorious, flaming homosexual. I know, I know; it’s quite disappointing. But alas, I do not make the rules.”

“But Miss Satan, are you not a homosexual too?”

“Well, that’s exactly how I know it’s a sin.”

The two of you crackle at each other’s banter, and you make plans in your head to spend more time with Tara and the rest of the girls after you’re released from the hospital.

You and Tara chat for a little while about the most mundane things, like her classes the day before and her plans for the weekend. She apologizes for not having more to say and for “being so boring,” but you’re genuinely happy to just hear her prattle off about anything.

At some point, she hands her phone over to Astrid, who greets you with a similarly delighted shriek that her girlfriend had received you with prior. She gushes over you with love and concern, insisting that she and all the Wilson girls come to visit you as soon as you’re out and adjusted.

“Tara just about broke down when I told her about it.” She reveals. “She was about to leave for her shift at Ruston’s when Dina called, and I’m pretty sure the whole dorm could hear her sobbing.”

“What?! I did not!” You hear Tara shout from a short distance.

“You had so much snot running down from your nose that I just about hosed your face down before you left!” Astrid yells back.

“Stop telling her that! She doesn’t need to hear all that!!”

You giggle at the couple’s repartee.

“Anyway,” Astrid continues. “Kris, Sid, and I tried to come down for a visit, but they apparently only let family in. Jesse and Dina seemed to have monopolized the fake roles of being your family already.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Addy.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry,” She brushes off. “I’m just glad that you haven’t been alone there. Those two really care about you, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Dina started to make a whole fuss when they wouldn’t let us past,” Astrid continues. “Threatened to sue the nurses, all the doctors, the entire hospital. The receptionist nurse didn’t even get a chance to kick her out ‘cause Jesse himself forced her to go leave and take a walk to calm down. I don’t think she came back until a couple of hours later.”

“Yeah, that sounds like our Dina.” You snort.

The two of you discuss what you’d like to do whenever you finally get released, Astrid swearing to get you out of your apartment nearly every day after your discharge.

“I don’t think I have all the stamina for all that, babe.” You chuckle.

“Then you better get yourself to the gym with Jesse, and build that stamina the fuck up! I want your sexy self at parties and clubs, living your best 20s life with us!”

You chuckle warily at this, simultaneously pushing away the reminder of who Jesse’s daily workout partner is.

After saying your goodbyes to Tara and Astrid, you make brief calls to the rest of the girls of the Wilson Crew. They all answer your calls with an assortment of jubilant greetings, each girl expressing their elation and gratefulness that you’re finally awake and safe.

You send individual texts of love to Dina, Jesse, and your uncle, thanking them extensively for coming to your aid and expressing your excitement to see them again very soon.

Having done your rounds of gratitude, you finally acknowledge that you can no longer ignore the unread texts of the blonde-braided woman you’d had your near-fatal dinner with. You open up your message thread with Abby to see that she’d sent you only three texts earlier in the day.

You stare at her text.

Oh. Huh.

No part of you blamed Abby for the incident; in fact, you’d been feeling a tremendous amount of remorse for putting her through such a traumatizing and jarring ordeal. It had been plaguing you so much since you woke up that you were far too embarrassed to ask Jesse and Dina more about her.

But something about her texts bothers you. There was very little warmth and familiarity in her messages. Her words didn’t seem that of the woman who had been walking you to your classes every day, who showed you off to her friends at the Bow and the Arrow, who treated you to a lavish restaurant on a fancy date. Who kissed you with so much passion on the sidewalk of that same restaurant the evening before.

Is… Is she angry with me?

You continue to stare at her strange messages for several more minutes, unable to process the situation you’re somehow in now. You can’t think of an appropriate response that would lead to something honest, so you decide to put your response off.

A-at least until after they release me… At least until I get home…

The doctors only began to discuss the possibility of your discharge early Sunday morning. Though it hadn’t even been a full two days since your admittance, it took everything in you not to practically beg them to let you go. You’d been insisting to anyone who’d listen that you were completely fine, that you’d walk right out yourself if you weren’t strapped to your bed with a million wires.

It wasn’t until midday, as you were mercilessly beating Jesse’s Shy Guy as Pink Gold Peach in Mario Kart, that Yoojin walked into your room with good news. You don’t notice her at first, too busy taunting Jesse for landing in 7th place while you scored 1st.

“You only won because I got Lakitu’d in the second lap! Fuckin’ Isabelle was sending red shells at me nonstop…” Jesse gripes.

“Sucks. Sounds like a personal problem, man.” You shrug.

“Alright, I want a rematch, but on the Egg course this time.”

“You’re such a sore fucking loser!”

“There’s a shortcut on Yoshi’s circuit close to where the finish line is, by the way,” Yoojin interjects, eyes smiling. “If you use a mushroom and drift to the hidden waterfall on the right, it’ll get you pretty far ahead.”

You and Jesse look up, a bit sheepish at her witnessing your juvenile behaviour. The nurse looks completely unbothered by it, however, and she approaches your bed as you place your controller down.

“Aww, come on, Yoojin,” You whine. “Don’t tell him that! I’m on a winning streak!”

“Shh,” Jesse shushes you, attempting to cover your face with one hand. “Don’t listen to her, Yoojin. She’s delirious from all the drugs you’ve been pumping her with. I must know all your secrets, ‘cause I swear, this one is cheating.”

“Maybe later,” Yoojin laughs as you flick Jesse’s forehead. “Because you might want to hear what your doctor just told me.”

Your ears perk up at this.

“I can go home?”

“Your most recent labs just came back, and everything looks good.” Yoojin nods. “And your vitals have been stable for the last 24 hours. So unless you plan on wolfing down ten pounds of shrimp sometime before leaving, we can get started on getting you released sometime later today.”

Your face breaks out in a huge smile, and you turn to grasp Jesse’s arm.

“Dude! I can go home!” You exclaim.

“Yes, I heard,” Jesse says. You can feel his smirk through his face mask. “Finally.”

You turn back to Yoojin.

“I can go right now?” You ask.

“It’ll take a couple of hours to make sure everything’s set for your discharge,” Yoojin says, chuckling at your eagerness. “But just hang tight, and you’ll be out of here in no time.”

“Why don’t you guys settle things here while I go tell your uncle?” Jesse offers.

Your uncle had stepped out to get some lunch at the hospital’s food court not too long ago. He and Jesse had arrived on the dot when visiting hours began earlier in the day. Dina had accompanied them but left shortly after to take care of other obligations, promising to be right back the second she was done.

“Oh, that’d be great,” You say. “Thanks, Jess.”

“No worries, bud. I’ll be right back.”

He gives you a pat on the head before leaving you alone with the nurse.

“So before you leave, we’ll go over a few things to make sure you don’t suddenly relapse during the next few days,” Yoojin begins. “And we’ll make sure you go home with a couple of new, unexpired EpiPens, just in case.”

You nod as she goes on to explain the plans for your discharge. You listen attentively, determined not to end up back in the hospital like this again. As Yoojin wraps up, you work yourself up to ask her a question that’s been at the tip of your tongue since the beginning of the conversation.

“Hey, umm, before you go,” You mutter nervously. “I wanted to ask about how much all of this will cost me. I-I know it’ll be pricey and all, especially with two brand new EpiPens, so I just want to be prepared.”

“That’s not really something I can help you with,” Yoojin replies apologetically. “That’s the jurisdiction of the hospital’s billing department. But I’m sure you can get it all settled with your insurance after you’ve been released. Depending on what you have, they should cover most of it.”

You give her a tentative smile as you wring your blanket between your fingers.

“A-alright then.” You sigh defeatedly.

It takes about two hours for you to finally be released from all your restraints and another hour until you’re finally walking out of the hospital and into the sunny parking lot. Yoojin allowed you a quick embrace before you left, insisting that you promise to be much more careful from here on out.

You lean against your uncle and Jesse for support as you exit the hospital’s automatic sliding doors, legs still a little shaky after being bedridden for so long. Dina pulls up next to you in her car and gets out to open the passenger door.

“M’lady.” She says with a bow, gesturing to the seat.

“Shut up, D.” You laugh, rolling your eyes.

“You sure you’ve got everything?” Your uncle inquires.

“I think so,” You reply. “Didn’t really bring anything with me.”

“Alright, well, I’ll head to my hotel room first so I can take care of a few things. I’ll meet the three of you at your apartment sometime later today. Sound good?”

You, Jesse, and Dina all nod in unison. Before he walks away, you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug.

“Thank you so much, Uncle,” You murmur. “It means so much to me that you came.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. Anything at all.”

He gives you a quick squeeze before releasing you, promising he won’t take very long before walking away towards his rental car.

“So,” Dina chimes. “Wanna grab some gross, greasy non-hospital food on the way home?”

When you finally cross the threshold of your apartment, you’d already wolfed down the majority of your fries along with half a chocolate milkshake. You collapse onto your couch with a relieved sigh, your best friends falling next to you on either side. You lean your head onto Dina’s shoulder as you take her hand between both of yours.

“I think I’m about to go into the world’s longest food coma.” You decree.

“I’m right alongside you, dude.” Jesse agrees, having devoured one and a half burgers himself on the way.

“No comas, please, or we’re gonna have to turn right back around and readmit you into that hospital.” Dina says.

“Never again, please,” You beg. “If I have to hear the nonstop beeping of a heart monitor for one more second, I’m going into straight-up fight-or-flight mode.”

Your friends chuckle.

“Alright,” Jesse eventually says as he sits up straighter. “Now that you’ve been freed, what do you want to do first?”

You hum as you ponder his question.

“Get so blackout drunk that I totally forget this entire experience ever even happened in the first place?” You offer.

“Right, well, perhaps we can do something that isn’t completely stupid and detrimental to your health. Especially after you were just in the hospital after almost dying.” Dina retorts.

You boo her as Jesse chuckles.

“Well,” You continue. “I guess I should tell the girls I’m finally out. I promised them I would. Or did you guys say anything to them already?”

“Not yet,” Dina says. “They’ll probably want to hear it from you.”

You groan.

“You’re right. Ugh. I don’t think I can handle the sheer amount of screaming and excitement that’ll come with it, though. Kris sounded like she was going to smother me with so much love that I’d suffocate from it.”

“You can always put it off, at least until tomorrow.” Jesse counters.

“I guess so. You think they’ll be mad?”

“Babe,” Dina says, squeezing your hands and rolling her eyes. “You almost died. I think they’ll survive a day.”

“Alright, alright,” You giggle. “I probably should focus on getting work done before class tomorrow, anyway.”

“Ma’am, I know you are not thinking of going to your classes right after you were just in the hospital all weekend.” Jesse scolds sternly.

“I’m fine!”

“Dear lord.” Jesse sighs, exasperated.

“Like I said,” Dina repeats. “You almost died. School is not a priority right now. You need to be resting, not writing essays and doing homework.”

“I don’t want to fall behind!”

“Didn’t your doctor give you a school note before we left earlier? She said you can give it to your professors to excuse you from your classes this week.”

“Yeah, but it’s not mandatory or anything. I’m fully recovered now, so it just seems totally unnecessary.”

“Like hell it is!” Dina bellows before releasing your hands to stand up from the couch. You fall flat on your face onto her spot when her shoulder disappears from under your head, and you muffle irritated curses into the couch cushion. You look up to see she’s disappeared momentarily into your bedroom.

“D… What are you doing?”

Dina reemerges after a few seconds, your laptop in her hands.

“Babe. What’d you get that for?” You ask suspiciously.

“I’m emailing all of your professors myself to tell them that you will not be attending any of your classes this week. Especially since it seems that you want to be such a stubborn dumbass about it…” Dina says matter-of-factly, shoving your head away from her spot on the couch to sit beside you once more.

“Never should have given you my password.” You grumble as Dina opens up your laptop and easily bypasses your lockscreen.

“Alright, who are all your professors again?” She asks, opening up your browser to access your email.

“I’m not telling you!” You reply stubbornly, crossing your arms.

“Hmm… I know she’s got Olinick’s double class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Mulligan at least on Mondays—” Jesse lists, counting your professors on one hand.

“No, no, no, I don’t!” You turn towards him, shoving your hands in his face.

“—I think Joslin from the English department too, but I can’t remember if that was last year or this year.”

“Jesse!”

By the time your uncle arrives at your apartment, you’d conceded to your best friends and allowed them to draft an excuse email to all of your professors. Dina opens the door for him after he knocks while you make final edits to your letters, and he settles into the ratty, secondhand armchair right next to the couch.

Your uncle chuckles at the scene before him: you with a focused look on your face typing rapidly on your laptop, Jesse leaning back into the couch while gently patting the top of your head as he continued to make suggestions to your email, and DIna taking her seat right back next to you before kicking her feet onto your lap as you lift and place your laptop on top of her legs. It had been a while since your uncle had seen you so relaxed around other people, the last time being right before your freshman year of college. His fondness for your best friends quickly grows by the second.

You look up from your work for a moment to smile warmly at your uncle, and he returns it with one of his own.

“Hi, Uncle! Sorry, I’m just finishing up this email to my professors.”

“No need to apologize, sweetheart. You telling them you won’t be attending any classes this week?”

“Yup,” Jesse answers for you. “Took a lot of bullying on our part to convince her not to overwork herself with school right now.”

“This dummy wanted to go back to classes right away as if nothing happened.” Dina rolls her eyes as she extracts a foot from underneath your laptop to kick you softly, earning her a stern “Hey, hey, hey!” from you.

“Well, thank goodness she has you two to set her straight.” Your uncle chuckles.

“Oh, she’s absolutely lost without us.” Jesse says, continuing to pat the top of your head.

Your uncle smiles. He can tell that Jesse’s joking around, but he knows that the couple have both been selflessly keeping you alive for the past few years.

“So how are you feeling?” Your uncle continues with concern etched on his face.

“Not so bad,” You admit. “Just so glad to be among civilians once again.”

You feel Jesse rub your upper back kindly.

“I’m sure,” Your uncle smiles kindly. “How about we talk about what you’re going to do now that you’re out?”

The four of you discuss what the next, post-hospital visit steps would be. They remind you of the check-up appointment you have later in the week, caution you once more about what foods you need to constantly be looking out for, and double-check that you have your new EpiPens handy and within constant reach.

“I still have my current EpiPen in the bathroom,” You say. “It hasn’t lapsed yet. So maybe I can give you each of the ones they sent me home with, if that isn’t too much of an inconvenience to either of you guys?”

You turn towards Dina then Jesse.

“You sure?” Jesse asks.

“Yeah, I mean, I obviously don’t want something like this to happen again. But if, by some hideous trick of fate, I end up in a repeat situation, it might be smart to just have one in multiple places. Just to cover my bases, I guess.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Dina nods. “As long as you have easy access to one at all times.”

“Yeah, that was my thinking too,” You agree. “Plus, I don’t want to have to use one of yours again, Jess.”

“Mm, I guess.” Jesse hums.

Your eyes meet his and you once again recognize his poker face.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Your uncle agrees. “Let’s try not to rely on just luck next time around.”

You give him an apologetic smile.

The sun had been set for at least an hour when Dina and Jesse finally took their leave. Both offer to stay the night, in case you suddenly need either of them, but you assure them that you’ll survive one night alone just fine. You embrace each of them tightly, putting every ounce of gratitude you have into your hugs.

You settle back onto the couch after you see them both out the door, and you turn towards your uncle still sitting in the armchair.

“I know I’ve said this probably a hundred times the past day or so,” You begin. “But thank you for coming, Uncle.”

“I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t come,” He replies. “Neither would Raf if he was still around.”

You both share a sad smile.

“I miss him, Uncle…” You whisper suddenly.

“I know. I do too.”

You sigh before continuing.

“I wish he was still here. I feel… I feel so incomplete without him around. Like this has all been an awful nightmare that I have yet to wake up from.”

“I know just what you mean,” Your uncle laments. “But our lives still go on, sweetheart. I think it’d make him sad to see us grieving him for the rest of our lives.”

“But… it just feels so wrong. It feels so wrong to stop grieving for him, to move on from him.”

“It’s not exactly moving on from him,” Your uncle ponders. “It’s more like… We make a place for him in our hearts. It’s sort of like he becomes a part of us. He’ll always be in everything we do.”

Your eyes well up as a childhood memory floods your thoughts.

When you were eleven years old, you had your first anaphylactic experience. You and Rafael were hanging out at his house, your uncle at work all day. You were making a mess in the kitchen, developing concoctions with half the contents of the pantry. As you were dumping a bag of marshmallows into a blender full of graham crackers and banana slices, Rafael fished an old bag of chips out of one of the cabinets.

The writing on the bag was all in a language you couldn’t understand, but the superheroes on the front seemed to be enjoying the crunchy snack. Raf was tearing the bag open before your greasy fingers started grabbing at its contents.

It didn’t even take two minutes until Rafael realized something was wrong. You were annoyed and taken aback when he slapped the chips out of your hand. It wasn’t until he was hauling you to the garage and strapping you into the passenger seat that you began to feel dizzy. By the time Rafael had driven to the emergency room, your skin had broken out into hives and your throat felt completely swollen. The last thing that you remembered before blacking out was your faithful cousin scooping you up and sprinting to the emergency room’s entrance.

You didn’t hear the end of it from your parents when you’d woken up from being unconscious after a couple of hours. Your mother spared no shame in relentlessly admonishing you, regardless of who was in the room, for your “stupidity.” The doctors and nurses offered you continuous looks of pity as they had to witness your many verbal lashings, though none stepped in to interfere. You were blamed for inconveniencing the family, for forgetting your EpiPen at home, for “forcing” Rafael to drive a car when he didn’t have his driver’s license yet, for obligating your parents to pay for your medical bills.

From that day on, your fear of your parents’ wrath was far greater than the fear of possibly falling prey to your fatal allergy.

All that gave you hope was your uncle and cousin coming to your defense. Unlike your parents, they showered you with care and love, especially Rafael who felt guilty and responsible for your admission. They nursed you back to health after you were released, Rafael promising you that he’d never let it happen to you again.

“Can I tell you something, Uncle?” You ask. “I didn’t even tell Jesse or Dina this. And I don’t think I ever could.”

“You never even have to ask, sweetheart. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I…” You gulp. “There was a point… while I was in the ICU that I was a little lucid for a few moments…”

You wring your fingers together in uneasiness as you stare down at your lap, unable to meet your uncle’s eyes.

“I… I didn’t know what was happening to me. I didn’t know I was going through anaphylaxis again. But I just knew… I felt that something was wrong with me.”

Your uncle listens to you intently, his chin on his hands folded as if he were praying.

“Something inside me… Somehow, I knew that I was dying,” You continue. “Or I knew that at that moment, I could die. I could keep going… or I could choose to let my body give out completely.”

You finally meet your uncle’s gaze.

“And I wanted to. I wanted to just… go,” You confess. “Not in a s-suicidal way. Not exactly, at least.”

Your eyes fill with thick tears.

“But… I wanted to be with him again. I knew that if I gave in, if I succumbed to whatever was killing me, I would see him again.”

Your bottom lip shakes as you continue.

“I miss him so f-fucking much, Uncle. I don’t know how to go on without him around. I’m so l-lost and confused, and all I want to do is talk to h-him about it. But I can’t. There’s n-nobody else in this world that I’ve ever felt as close to as him. Maybe except—”

You break off before you can finish, shaking off the memory of ocean green eyes and a constellation of freckles. The look on your uncle’s face tells you that he already knows how your sentence was going to end, but he says nothing.

“He told me he’d never let anything happen to me. He was always supposed to be here with me,” You sob. “I know that’s selfish. I know that his life didn’t revolve around me. But so much of mine did. I planned… I built my life to always include him. Now what the hell am I supposed to do?”

Your uncle’s sad eyes watch as you roughly wipe your cheeks of the tears uncontrollably streaming down.

“Sweetheart…” Your uncle begins as he stands up from the armchair to sit next to you on the couch. “You are not selfish. I know how much he meant to you. How much he still means to you.”

He takes your hands between his.

“I just…” You sniffle. “It’s been years. I thought I’d healed from it already. I thought I’d moved past all the pain.”

“It’s not a continuous thing, dealing with your grief.” Your uncle smiles softly. “You’ll have moments, hard ones where it’ll all feel raw and fresh again. It doesn’t mean you’re weak or selfish. You just have your own way of handling your sadness.”

You nod in acknowledgement of his words.

“But I think we both owe it to Raf to live our lives, to be happy without him around,” He continues. “His gift to us was time. Time with him and great memories. Even if he’s no longer with us, we’ll continue to carry that gift with us wherever we go.”

Your uncle smiles and you return it, though wistfully.

“I’m very grateful that you trusted me to share this with me,” Your uncle begins. “But don’t be afraid to talk about this with your friends. Especially those two.”

“Jesse and Dina?”

He nods.

“I see just how much they love you,” Your uncle says. “They seem like they would do absolutely anything for you. And I am so grateful that you have people like that in your life.”

“Yeah, they… mean so much to me.”

“I’m glad. So, please. If I’m not around, don’t be afraid to confide in those two. I’m sure if the roles were reversed, you’d do the same for them.”

“I’d do absolutely anything for them.”

“Exactly. So don’t be afraid to embrace the love in your life. You deserve that. And that’s exactly what Rafael would want for you.”

You throw your arms around your uncle and sob into his shoulder.

You and your uncle continue to talk for a while until you realize that it’s nearly midnight. Like your friends, he offers to stay the night in case you need him. But you know his flight home was only in a few short hours, so you insist that he go back to his hotel to get a bit of sleep before he needs to leave for the airport.

It took everything in you not to beg him to stay, but you couldn’t bear troubling him further. And you longed to finally have some time to yourself, so you put on a brave face.

After your many assurances that you would take care of yourself better, you walk him to your front door. When you open it up, you both notice a simple brown box with a thin bow placed on top of your doormat. You pick it up, noticing how light it feels in your hands.

“What is this?” You mutter.

“You got a package?” Your uncle asks, looking at the box.

“No… I didn’t order anything.”

“Strange. Maybe your friends Dina and Jesse left it for you.” He offers.

“I… I guess,” You frown. “Although, I don’t really know why they wouldn’t just give it to me when they were here earlier.”

“Hmm, that’s true,” He hums, squinting his eyes at it. “A secret admirer, perhaps?”

“Ha ha, Uncle. Very funny.”

You give him an amused grimace before untying the bow and removing the lid. You gasp as you recognize what it contains.

“Oh…”

You drop the box and embrace its previous contents.

“My Barbie Bear…”

author's notes:

thank y'all so much for you patience waiting for this new chapter to come out. i literally wrote like, half of this while in the psych ward, and that was all the way in decemeber sldkfjlsdk

tbh i meant this chapter to be a lot shorter than it turned out to be but lskdjfs more content for y'all ig!

reader's first words after waking up is inspired by me saying, "i need to poop so bad" when the doctors were busy working on me in the emergency room lmaoooo

silver lining of me being in the icu back in december is being able to describe it in detail in this chapter hehe. being in the icu suuuuucked but mostly cause it was boring and cold and i wasn't allowed to get up to pee!!!

the nurse yoojin is named after one of my nurses while i was in the hospital. i loveddddd her, she was such a sweetheart and it made me so happy whenever she was assigned to me. i was rewatching arcane while i was in the hospital, and she saw and asked me about it, and then we gabbed about the show and league of legends (cause she religiously plays the game but hasn't watched arcane yet), and i eventually convinced her to actually watch the show heeeheee

reader’s uncle saying he sees reader as his own is what uncle iroh says to zuko in atla, fun little easter egg heehee (you know me and my love for easter eggs)

reader greeting tara on the phone as satan was how i first greeted my best friend when i was finally able to call her through the public phone in the psych ward (hi rhi LOL)

pink gold peach is my main in mario kart lol

reader's professors mentioned are all named after old professors from my former college's theatre department (rip dennis, miss you always ❤️)

reader’s uncle telling her “we make a place for him in our hearts” in regards to rafael is what tara in buffy the vampire slayer says to dawn when their mom dies (can you tell i love btvs)

working on the next chapter asap, lmk what you think of this chapter in the meantime!

also i made an ao3, so if you wanna read on there too, check it out!

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#nobody compares to you series #ellie williams #dealer!ellie #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #ellie fanfiction #belle speaks #belle writes #Spotify

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cipherstarling · 15 days ago

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Love Language Headcanons [Stanford Pines x Reader]

I stayed up til 3 am thinking about this man. I will be finding a way to integrate these HCs in To Sonder

Ford loved you so reverently, so deeply that it often left you speechless. This man thrives off acts of service and he loves showering you with gifts.

*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──✧*

💙 He wasn't clueless to your affections, but he does have trouble comprehending why you liked him back.

💙 He looks forward to the way your eyes would brighten when you see him. It’s like seeing a comet fly in the night sky, rare and reserved only for him.

💙 Your cheeks would turn an adorable rosy color because of him, and he doesn’t really understand why at first. He does NOT know how much of a catch he is, damn.

💙 He thinks of you whenever he finds a pink flower out in the wild. Whenever the skies turn pink on a hot summer afternoon, it’s you who occupies his mind.

💙 He'd leave you dried flowers in your favorite spots in the shack. At first, you chalked it up to his forgetfulness. He tends to leave unfinished notes and contraptions all around the house.

💙 Whenever you'd bring his supposedly unfinished projects back to him, he merely smiles at you and tells you to keep them.

💙 Eventually, you had enough flowers to fill an album. He'd be really happy if you collected them and stored them carefully.

💙 Stanford's talents weren't limited to science and invention- he was also an artist.

💙 Admittedly, he does sketch you- a lot. Some of these drawings do slip out of his journals or he simply forgets to put them away- they'll fall out of his pocket.

💙 He will wake you up at 4 in the morning to show you a goddamn cryptid- or anomaly, as he refers to it- he plucked off the forest floor from one of his excursions.

💙 It would be something marvelous and beautiful. He sometimes forgets people need sleep, though eventually, he'll learn to wait til next morning to show you pictures or take you where he found the new creature.

💙 He'll make you trinkets!

💙 He can't really sit still for too long. So whenever you tell him to relax and lock him out of the lab and his study, he'll have an impromptu arts and crafts session.

💙 He's made you a tiny terrarium filled with pretty, bioluminescent moss.

💙 He made you a locket! What's so special about it? Well, it may look normal but he engraved it himself with his homemade laser! He nearly lost a few fingers in the process, but hey, he reasoned that had an extra two if it did happen!,

💙 He gave you things that had the color spectrum only shrimps could see.

💙 Sometimes, you'll catch him staring at a blue flower he kept on his desk. A dreamy, wistful expression rested on his face before a huff resembling a laugh would escape him.

💙 One day, he'll tell you that he could see one of those special colors the human eye can't quite comprehend. One day, he'll tell you about the being who named an impossible color after him, the closest he's ever been to having a love letter written to him by an equally impossible being.

💙 This man is so unbelievably touch starved, that he'll never initiate physical contact. You may have to take the lead on this one.

💙 Or maybe, he wouldn't even realize he initiated contact until after it happened.

💙 Maybe that invisible wall Ford built around himself would crumble one rainy day.

💙 You'd be shivering. His Ma raised a gentleman, so he gives you his coat. He holds a small umbrella over you- he didn't really account for being out in the forest with someone else today. So he leans it over your side, making sure you're dry and soaking his shirt to keep you mostly warm.

💙 He frowned at the way you rubbed your hands together and shook under the weather.

💙 He cups a warm hand around your smaller ones. He reassures you you're almost back home as he rubbed smooth, calming circles over the back of your hand.

💙 But in a blink, he'll realize how close he got. He turns into an absolute tomato and starts stuttering. You giggle as he pulls his hand away and shoves them deep into his pocket.

💙 You keep your hand over his, gently guiding the umbrella so that it covers him too. The poor man's gonna catch a cold at this rate.

💙 Eventually, he'll learn to be more forward and show you more affection.

💙 He'll intentionally stand as close to you as he can, hoping you'd hug him or hold his hand.

💙 He'll melt if you reach out and adjust his glasses for him. Leaning his face into the palm of your hand while fixing you with the softest look ever.

💙 Out of the blue, he'd sometimes catch you off guard and hug you from behind. He forgets how quiet his footsteps are, after years of learning to sneak around skittish creatures for his work.

💙 Even when he's distracted by note taking and reading, he'll grope around blindly for your hand. Resting it around yours as he mumbled and crunched numbers for his latest invention.

💙 At night, he definitely is a big spoon. The man's a furnace, and if you're cold, he'll actually enjoy that. It balances him out. Insert nerdy scientific joke about how opposites attract, here!

💙 More to come~

#stanford pines x reader #ford pines x reader #stanford pines headcanon #gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines x you #stanford pines #ford pines

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mellowwillowy · 1 year ago

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Let's talk about Yan! TWST!

The Yan that enjoys inflicting pain on you would be...

Riddle doesn't see the charm of hurting you and so are his card soldiers. But, that doesn't mean Riddle will not hurt you dear, oh noooo, do you remember the time your guardian punished you with something that hurt physically? A pinch on your forearm or a smack by the ruler? Take that double-fold.

"Now now, what did I say about standing straight?" Riddle fixes your posture with his staff before eyeing you from head to toe, "I assume you've been good today, you are safe from the... unsavory punishment, I'd say."

Cater can understand the charm of it, I mean, he enjoys biting you every now and then playfully! Now Imagine what if he does it with a different intention, hm?

Trey is, hm, 50/50. Just like Riddle except that part of him secretly loathes the fact that he wishes he could do more for you but that won't do good. He is not supposed to act like this.

The ADeuce duo? They are wholesome babies who just sometimes enjoy bullying you, just sometimes! Maybe a poke and prod here until it suddenly escalates into something that actually hurts you. Will immediately realize that and apologize to you nonstop.

Leona? You bet you got lots of bite marks and scratch marks! He treats you like his chewing toy and he loves it! Well, part of his sadistic side will sometimes take over and turn this into a much darker turn.

"Hey, come now, don't trouble me from having to find you, herbivore. Stop hiding unless you want me to drag you out with my fangs."

Ruggie and Jack don't really get it. Aren't they supposed to treasure and protect those who they love? Sure, the animalistic sides of marking might come every now and then but that's as far as it goes.

Alright, the Tweels are right off the bat. Any kind of pain honestly, physically and mentally. You get the drill. "What do you say if we turn you into a literal shrimp? Maybe... bend your back until you look like one, shrimpy?" "Kukuku, that is a great idea though I am worried about the aftereffects."

And the person who would be opposed to this would be the Octopus, Azul.

He prefers his angelfish to be unscratched unlike those brutes after all (Though he understands why they love seeing your fear-stricken expression, it truly has its own charm.) "You two! Stop playing around and go back to work if you have the time to bother them! ... Hey, are you alright?" Azul will check on you and tend to any bruises they leave after they are gone.

put that chain down! Real talk here though? Both Kalim and Jamil are on the same flavour but they leave different aftertaste.

Now I know Kalim is such a sunshine baby that is soooo sooo, free of threat and won't even have the thought of hurting you for fun. But what if he has no other choice but to do this...? Now he doesn't take any form of pleasure from this but what I'm trying to say is that he is not below from hurting you indirectly.

Take it when he feels the need to chain you down, should he let the others do this dirty deed or should he do this himself? The idea of someone else hurting you makes him sick but so does the idea of him having to immobilize you!

"I'm really sorry but I just, have no choice! I'll make it up to you, name anything you want and I'll give it to you in a blink! Everything... but leaving me... then I will grant it to you like a magic lamp..."

In Jamil's case though he just resorted to this method should his paranoia reach a certain extent. What if you leave him even though he hasn't done anything much for you at all? Should he charm you with his UM or... should he just straight up immobilize you and lock you away in the dorm, away from privy eyes? Or maybe should he shamelessly ask for Kalim's assistance in sending you to Scalding Sands for the time being?

"Rest assured, Najma will be there for you."

The Hunter, Rook. Now listen to me, no he doesn't find any pleasure in the same way the Tweels do. Take him as a hunter, only wounding you to keep you immobile and that's all, he'd prefer to not wound you at all to ensure your beauty unscratched like a taxidermized animal!

The people who would go against this would be Vil and Epel! Come on now, really? He'd rather inflict emotional and mental pain than this! How is he supposed to cover the bruises, let alone if it remains as a scar?

"Rook! What did I tell you about not leaving any mark on them? Can't you just ever listen?" "Aha, I'm so sorry~! It's just that they have been hopping around like a rabbit so I had no choice but to treat them as one."

As for Epel, he just doesn't see the charm in causing any pain to his dearest darling at all. He prefers seeing you smiling and laughing rather than crying. Oh gosh, these sick fucks are questionable!

"Even so, you shouldn't retort to this method! Oh no... it hurts so much, right...?"

Do not touch Ortho in the wrong way but damn this murder bot is on the loose. He will most definitely be doing the dirty job here for Idia like dude, he will stun you right on the spot should his system detect any suspicious movements and signs of doing something dumb.

Idia on the other hand is pretty neutral about this. Yeah, comatose, knocked out cold. Cool. You shouldn't have done that, noob, can't you at least make a plan that will allow you to evade Ortho's sight of view? Not like the phone he gave you will not save him from this trouble though.

"You thought you could sneak out of an enemy base camp that easily? You gotta at least watch the walkthrough from start to finish, anyway, off we go... to the enemy's underground chamber."

He'd prefer things to be as solace as possible so I think he doesn't enjoy partaking in this trope with these sadistic bitches. (He's just a silly meow meow after all)

Lilia has a kink in marking you with his fangs and it shows~ That, is on the playful note, what about the much darker note? Moments when the fistfight you two share turns into an uncontrollable fight that allows him to cut you with his nails and punch you right in your guts, hard, until you choke out.

"Ah~? Sorry, did I go too hard? I forgot that your body is now just as fragile as a stuffed doll!" He'll shrug it off playfully while relishing in your state for a moment before helping you ^^ (Ah, he misses those good' ol days so dearly!)

Malleus, Silver, and Sebek though? They are shaking their heads at Lilia but can't say anything about it.

Malleus sees this as a way to keep you still next to him, maybe by spraining your ankle or slamming your head so that you are knocked out.

Silver on the other hand does not lay a single finger on you with the intention of hurting you, at all! Cinnamon baby! huhuhu.

Sebek? After watching Lilia and Malleus, he deems this to be some sort of disciplinary action! He takes pride in it while secretly pushing away the guilt of hurting you and the fact that he was enchanted by the teary sight of you.

Divider Credit: @edith-is-a-cat

I have favorites and it shows. (Lilia)

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nat-20s · 3 months ago

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i know it's a little late, but everyone please enjoy this soft and sappy new year's fourteendonna fic!!! Also on ao3, if you prefer!

~~~~

As per New Year’s tradition, The Doctor and Donna were the only two members of the household that were awake past midnight. This year had been different than last, because at least this year Shaun had given a rather sleepy “woo!” and kiss to Donna at midnight, before promptly once again passing out on the couch. Sylvia and Rose had made no attempt to make it that late, the two of them staunchly morning people. Donna had to assume that that particular quality skipped a generation, as she had never once gotten out of bed before 10am of her own volition. Granddad had tried, bless his heart, but it was barely 9:30 before he gave a little wave and apology, heading to his room.

She would take it to her grave, but she sort of adored these quiet moments where it was just her and The Doctor. There was a sense of guilt about it, wanting to bogart his time for herself. However, this was both a: the only time that The Doctor would actually talk and b: something that Donna was about 78% sure he enjoyed just as much as her. It didn’t hurt that they were currently leaned up against the kitchen counter, pressed shoulder to shoulder, slowly nursing their sparkling apple cider. Donna would swear that she had a pleasant buzz in the back of her head going on, despite no one even bothering to buy champagne this year. Half of them couldn’t have it, and the other half didn’t actually want it. What a ridiculous, brilliant family she had.

Maybe it was the fact that it was one am, or that it was New Year’s, or just that she felt remarkably loose-limbed, but she simply had to break the silence. “So, spaceman, this is your second new year’s day with us. How’re you feelin about it?”

The Doctor turns to face her directly, pointing the gold sparkle 2025 glasses (that were physically incapable of looking anything other than deeply silly) he was wearing straight at her. There’s a moment, so brief she almost misses it, of contemplation, before it’s replaced by a too big goofy grin. “Oh, I’m just dandy.”

For that, she nudges him with her elbow. “Come off it, it’s only us. How do you actually feel about all...this?”

She waves in the general direction of the house, and makes the assumption that he gets she’s not talking about the furniture. His smile decreases to something more honest and his eyes, well, she hates to say that they twinkle, but they sort of do. “Good. Mostly. Yeah.”

Reasonably, she shouldn’t needle. Reasonably, she should leave it at that, enjoy finishing her cup of sugar that claims to have vitamins, and get them both to bed. Behaving reasonably wasn’t what made her and The Doctor best friends, though. Instead, she decides to change tactics. “When’s the last time we went stargazing?”

The Doctor’s expression morphs to the kind of concern that’s usually reserved for life-threatening situations. Or when she says she’s going grocery shopping without him. “Donna, we went out with Granddad last night? You’re not having memory-”

“-No, dummy, I mean proper stargazing. TARDIS, open sky, no atmosphere type of star gazing. ”

The crow’s feet around the corners of The Doctor’s eyes curl up, prominent enough that Donna can see them even with the obstruction of the glasses. If they weren’t in the middle of a conversation, she’d probably stroke them with her thumb. As it is, she simply listens as he lights up, saying, “Oh! Not since we had the run-in with the giant Artemisians.”

“God, that’s right. It was nice to have a breather, you know, after a giant shrimp tries to drown you.”

“I keep telling you that they didn’t understand the concept of not having gills, there truly was no ill will there.”

“And I keep telling you, a lack of ill will is worth sod all when a giant shrimp is trying to drown you. Unconventional methods of saying ‘hello’ are significantly less friendly when they almost kill you.”

The Doctor has the gall to roll his eyes at her, and she wet willies him. “Ey!,” is all he gets out before she sets down her drink down behind her, grabs a thermos, and sets out for the backyard. The Doctor scrambles behind her, even willing to take off his little party hat and absurd glasses before he goes.

Perhaps more confident than she should be, considering the TARDIS’s temperamental nature, she struts in, fills the thermos from the hot cocoa tap that appeared one day, and starts inputting coordinates. The Doctor quickly catches up, putting his head on her shoulder to watch what she’s doing. “Shouldn’t I take over from here?”

“Nah, she likes me better anyway.”

A gasp of hurt comes out of The Doctor. “She does not!”

“Really? Because the TARDIS has always taken me where I want to go. If that’s not a sign that I’m her favorite, I don’t know what is. Isn’t that right, ol’ gal?”

The lights of the TARDIS walls flash brighter, and Donna can feel a slight hum in the base of her skull. She can see The Doctor pouting in her peripheral vision, but nevertheless he hugs his arms around her waist and says, “’Spose it’s only fair, considering you’re my favorite too.”

Donna wrinkles her nose at that, but can’t quite hide her smile as she fiddles with a few knobs. “Sap.”

“Only for you.”

“Okay, first off, that’s not even true, second, double sap! At this rate you’re going to become a whole damn tree.”

The Doctor only responds with a little “mmm,” and snuggling even closer. All of which is very sweet, but reaching for the last lever she needs is a bit difficult with a 6 foot alien doing his best octopus impression. If this had been their first go around, she would’ve shoved him off. In this incarnation of, well, whatever they are, she simply does her best stretch while having a hyper-intelligent limpet attached to her.

Donna expects the typical moan and groan of the TARDIS, but apparently “Up” is a fairly simple task for her to complete. It’s mere seconds before they’re between the moon and Earth, and Donna’s ready to step out. She half walks, half drags The Doctor all the way to the TARDIS doors before he lets go. There’s a slight shiver that goes through her at the sudden lack of warmth, but the contents of the thermos will quickly amend that.

Pushing the doors to the side, she reveals exactly the view she had hoped they would get; the Earth at night, lit up in the intricate networks of humanity, and stars surrounding them. As The Doctor comes to stand next to her and look, she fondly thinks of their first night together having shared this exact same view a few billion years removed.

Quickly, she sits down, and pours herself some cocoa. She hesitates for a moment, thinking about how she’ll have to piss like a racehorse if she drinks too much, and then immediately decides she doesn’t actually care.

The Doctor immediately follows suit, and they simply watch the world for a few minutes, passing a cheap plastic cup between the two of them. After the cocoa needs refilling, she takes in The Doctor’s full body contentment, and almost, almost doesn’t interrupt it. Nevertheless, she asks, “Mostly?”

“Hmm?”

“You said things were good, mostly. What’s the not good?”

The Doctor turns to stare at her for a moment, then teasingly says, “The stargazing is a trap, isn’t it?”

Donna scoffs. “Of course not! The stargazing is because it’s a great view. The hot cocoa, on the other hand.”

The Doctor gives a bit of a laugh, then sets aside the empty cup in his left hand. He uses his right hand to take hers, then goes back to staring at the universe surrounding them. “It really is good, Donna. I didn’t lie to you when I said I’ve never been so happy, and that hasn’t changed. If anything, it becomes even more true with each passing day. I just,” The Doctor lets out a breath of a sigh, “I’m a bit worried is all. Not...not about anything major. Logically, I know that other me is doing his best for the universe, and who better to hand the keys off to? But. Well. I fear I’m losing myself. And worse, I fear that I don’t know if that’s a bad thing.”

Donna gives The Doctor’s hand a quick squeeze, a reassurance as she asks, “How do you mean?”

The Doctor give his her full force attention then, somewhat to her surprise. She had expected him to look anywhere but her. Instead, his pupils are darting back and forth, scanning her as if her face holds the answer to her own question. “Donna, I don’t feel like a time lord anymore.”

He turns away again then, taking a slow, deep breath before continuing, “I know that I am one. I know, fundamentally, that I am not a member of the human race, and that being a time lord isn’t about fulfilling a role, it’s more a state of existence. But it feels like a role, and one that I’ve quit. Retired from. Passed on to the next generation.

Even without whatever Tecteun did to me, the centuries, the lives I lived before I found you again, they seem distant. Like everything happened to someone else. Only the past year and half feel…”

The Doctor trailed off, and Donna found it shockingly easy to finish his thought. “-real?”

“Yeah.”

Donna places her head on the door frame, the forever night sky twinkling in front of her, and tells him, “I think I know what you’re getting at. It’s as if, I dunno, for fifteen years there was a woman named Donna Noble who got married and raised a child and bought a house and scrapped together a decent life for herself. She was strong, but she was also so sad, missing someone who didn’t exist. I’m grateful to that incredible, heart-broken person. She did a lot of things right, and some things wrong, and she dug up the space for the roots I’ve now placed down. But she doesn’t feel like me. It’s..it’s as if I suddenly woke up, when I got my memories back. I know it’s not true, I know that those actions, those memories are all mine, that I was never truly asleep. I don’t know her mind, though. I don’t thinkin the same way she does, I don’t act like her, I don’t even entirely sound like her. Maybe that’s how it feels for you, too?”

Donna thought she was sharing in a mutual understanding, but when she looked at The Doctor, he was devastated. “Donna, I am so sorry-”

“-Leave off! We’ve hashed that out a good ten times already, and that is not what this conversation is about.”

Everything about The Doctor was tense, but she watched him slowly force the stiffness from his body. “Yes, yes, I know. I am, but. I think that’s...pretty much exactly how I feel. Funny how that works. Same wavelength, for the two of us.”

“Sure, though, me feeling like a different person than the one in my memories isn’t quite as literal for me.”

The Doctor gives a “what can you do?” shrug, and goes quiet. There’s an..expectation in the air, at least she thinks there is, that if this conversation is to resolve, she has to be the one to do it. “The psychic paper says ‘John Noble’ by the way.”

“Huh?”

“When you flash your near universal fake badge. It used to list your name as ‘John Smith’, dumb fake name by the way, but now it says ‘John Noble.’”

He immediately looks down, poorly attempting to hide his face and his honest-to-god blush, and ohhh Donna wants to tease him about it so very badly. “Well, I, that’s as such. The psychic paper responds to the minds around it, so, that’s just. Yep.”

She grins, mostly sincerely, and shifts to lean on him. “I like it. Suits you. And, in light of it all, would it be so bad? You don’t have to, obviously, but. What if you didn’t have to be capital ‘T’ capital ‘D’ The Doctor, last of the time lords, the oncoming storm, whatever? Would you like to just be him, John Noble, regular bloke?”

“Regular? Eugh, makes me sound like a digestive system.”

He gets an elbow for that, and she amends, “Fine. Human then. Wanna join us down there on big blue ball in front of us?”

“It’d be wrong. Wouldn’t it? Yes. Right?”

It’s her turn to shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m admittedly biased, but I think being human is rather nice, actually.”

“In that case. I think I’ve already joined you, haven’t I?”

“I think you have, Dr. Noble.”

“Oh, that does have a ring to it!”

Donna removes her hand from The Doctor’s so that she can hug his arm and watch the world continue. In a bit, she’ll have to get up, input the coordinates back home, and get some sleep. For now, though, she simply whispers, “Happy New Year, Doctor.”

“Happy New Year, Donna.”

#my fic #:3 #doctor who #fourteendonna #fourteenth doctor #donna noble #tennant doctor #tomorrow (technically today whoops) i'll do some basic edits and cross post to ao3!#tonight though. tonight i just wanted to get it into Da World #also 1000 words my ass it was literally twice that WHOOPS

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apocalyp-tech-a · 1 year ago

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Remember in Season 1, Episode 1 Aftermath, Tech says "I am merely stating a theoretical hypothesis based on factual data?" Well, that's what I did, I made a "logical conclusion." From Lama Su coming back when we thought he was dead to the infamous "domicile," it was all factual evidence that was meant to push us in a direction of hoping that Tech would return and that CX-2 could be the way he does it. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. There's an underlying reason that I love Tech not based on just his handsome looks. I don't claim to have an exceptional mind like him and I don't intend to convince anyone that CX-2 was Tech, but I do want to explain how it could be construed through the way that character was presented as well as the possibility of Tech's return in general, that he could have been and none of us were wrong or "losers" to think so.

45 70 Reasons and more well on the way, lol...

General reasons:

*Tech is never seen actually dying.

*Hemlock being untrustworthy source of death certificate.

*The return of many thought to be dead characters in past Star Wars from Darth Maul who was sliced in half to Lama Su - the door closed on him and we thought he was getting shot by troopers only to show up alive later and this happened in The Bad Batch itself.

*CX-2 is shown walking toward the 'light' after dropping off Omega, symbolically toward a future redemption. @astrovoidy

*Height change on starwars.com

*The word 'dead' danced around on official sites and by BB employees

*the similarities to Winter soldier @on-a-quest

*the cryptic tweets that showcased reborn characters like Gandalf

*The official poster of CX-2 shows him in 'good' light. @eriexplosion AND CX-2 is shown looking up and to the side the way the original CF99 members are positioned and facing in their poster as if CX-2 is also a CF99 member

*other people in professional settings like New Rock Stars on youtube thought the same exact thing as well as casual viewers

*the large focus on CX-2, over multiple episodes

*misleading title of last episode "The Cavalry Has Arrived"

*Tech being smart enough to find a solution

*If Season 2 could be compared to Empire Strikes Back, Tech was taken from us the way Han Solo was, but Han Solo was returned so surely Tech would be as well

*no one expected a main ensemble character permadeath

*the fight with Crosshair music had hints of "Plan 99" in it

*Tech’s whole big conversation with Romar was about culture and memory, and he helped Romar restoring a data repository. Between the implication that Tech would have lost his memories and Phee saying, “Tech’s brain was the databank, not mine,” you could easily see that as foreshadowing for Tech getting his memories back. @heyclickadee

*All the little one line reminders and goggles shots up through episode twelve only serve to make the audience want Tech back. They aren’t closure, they’re reminders of his absence. [Tech never being quite mourned.] @heyclickadee

*The goggles are lit, or look like they’re lit, in every scene they’re in except the last one, which sure makes all those earlier shots deliberate. @heyclickadee *CX-2 could have killed all of them at different moments, but chose not to (shooting pilot instead of Hunter for example)

Physical and character similarities:

*the shrimp posture

*the kick in the fight similar to droid kick in S1E1

*the similar hand to hand combat style

*the shooting accuracy- ipsium cave/ plan 99

*the elegant deliberate movement especially of hands and fingers

*the animated head and body when speaking

*the helmet – even has his hairline @jorolle

*the viewfinder similar to Tech's and utilized just as often

*the pouches(!!!)

*the limberness and agility

*the confident capability

*the crouching/getting on one knee - Tech is an infamous croucher!

*the deviant nature – ignoring orders

*the technology know how

*the flying – some say the turn on Teth was a Tech Turn

*the extraness of tool/weapon twirl

*armpad like Tech's datapad @wolveria

*CX-2's ship has similarities to the Marauder @wolveria

*Tech CC-9902 / CX-2 - both end in 2 @wolveria

*We are reminded this season that Tech was especially good at decryption. What do we see CX-2 doing on Phee’s ship? Yeah. @heyclickadee

*Season two went out of its way to establish that Tech has a high pain tolerance, is a good close range fighter (he won a life-or-death fight with a guy when he had that broken femur), quick processing speed, and is an excellent shot. All skills we see CX-2 exhibit. @heyclickadee

The 'British' accent, speech inflection, pronunciation. and vocabulary (this alone is enough to convince anyone...):

'You better get back HERE." - "I know the girl is HERE."

"The fifth IS Omega." - "The girl IS alive."

"Who are you?" - "Who are you?"

"Naveecomputah." - "Neveecomputah."

"DOMICILE." - "DOMICLE."

Cinematic framing similarities:

*the limping

*the coming out of the water @lilacjunimo

*hooking the rappel hook rappelling down was like dangling off the rail car

*the boulder moving

*helmet viewpoint from CX-2 in finale, only BB members ever had that

Conjectural situations of suspicion:

*the beef with Crosshair

*the constant surviving

*the pausing when choking Crosshair

*the pausing to look at Phee

*The implications that Crosshair seems to know something about CX-2 (he wants to get out of dodge when he knows CX-2 is coming), and the intense lingering guilt Crosshair feels—and which is never dealt with! It’s still there through the finale—implying he knows or suspects it’s Tech. @heyclickadee

*“Whatever they did to you, whatever you’ve done, you’re still one of us,” offered by Rex towards the CXs @heyclickadee

*Crosshair’s character arc this season being partly about realizing that anyone can change and that no one is really beyond saving, which would have continued going somewhere if he thought CX-2 was Tech and considered him beyond saving, but then changed his mind and realized he needed to try. Notice that he does not engage CX-2 in 11 like he did in 7, and that this comes after his revelation about giving people a chance in 9. @heyclickadee

*CX-2 is even more Tech like in 11 than he was in 6 and 7. This implies that he could be starting to wake up, and that almost killing Crosshair triggered that. He doesn’t kill anyone except one of his own guys on Pabu (or Phee) even though it would make his job much easier. He even has Hunter and Wrecker in his sights and moves his aim to not shoot them directly. @heyclickadee

*Crosshair has no way to know that the CX’d clones come out different and that their identities are erased unless it happened to someone we know. In fact, there’s not reason for the CX plot to exist unless that horrific thing happens to someone we know. @heyclickadee

*The first episode of the show starts out with Hunter covering for someone who supposedly died in a fall. In fact, there are direct parallels in the lines: “Where’s the Jedi?” “I stunned him when he jumped. He didn’t make it.” vs “Where’s Tech?” “Omega…Tech didn’t make it.” I’m not saying Hunter was covering for Tech; I am saying that is the only place in the script where we see those phrases matched up. @heyclickadee

*Tech being CX-2 would have fit in perfectly with each member of the batch experiencing a traumatic loss (and regaining) of agency that correlated directly to who and how they are as people. @heyclickadee

Foreshadowing lines:

*More machine than man, percentage wise at least.

*Better late than dead.

*See you around, Brown Eyes.

*Tech's not gone.

*The operative's gone rogue.

*Romar saying he's a survivor and Tech's look at him.

*Don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers. @heyclickadee

Abandoned storyline reasons:

*The romance with Phee, surely it wouldn't be abandoned!? 🙄😡

*CX-2's death being anticlimactic

*The finale seeming rushed and incomplete

*Actors saying there were script changes

*CX-2's accent in the finale was not only not like Tech's as it was in previous episodes, it wasn't even a clone accent (wtf was that) signaling a script change

@wolveria made a great analysis here with her Tech-Genda !

@heyclickadee gave a great analysis here and also great evidence, more in comments!

@vivaislenska has a list as well with some of these points!

@eriexplosion has a great analysis here!

Having said that, here are some reasons it may not have been him:

*Too many characters coming back from the dead.

*The way he says 'clones' in Infiltration was more reg accent.

*Tech's line in the cave to Omega which "was a big one to me” in retrospect: "I am aware that you miss him, but we have to adapt and move on."

As for the intentions of the writers to either have been forced to change the script, but can't admit it due to NDAs or if they truly meant for CX-2 to be Crosshair's foil which to me was unclear, especially with all of the evidence above, I don't know. At least they could have made CX-2 talk and move like a reg. Making him talk and walk like Tech was kind of cruel on top of a cruel we already experienced in Plan 99. I am not personally attacking the writers, I still love Season 1 and 2 and most of Season 3, but I wish I knew what happened behind the scenes with this and I know I'm not the only one. I think this is the last time I'll personally address Season 3 or the finale unless to support other commentators/creators and for my own fix-it and art and writing. And I look forward to seeing everyone else's works as well and hope no one gives up this beautiful Batch or fandom as I almost did. Canon seems done with him, he belongs to us now. 💜

And if anyone has anything I missed (I'm sure I'll think of more myself), feel free to comment or reblog with that addition or a link to your own post and/or I can edit the OP to include it and tag you. Also, don't feel like you can't make your own post about this subject! But I do hope this maybe helped anyone still dealing with the 'aftermath' like me, to know you're not alone, and you did not read too much into it.

(In retrospect, I can't believe they killed him though, lol. What the kriff were they thinking!?! #too handsome to die #too awesome to die)

#tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #star wars #the bad batch #cx-2 #tech the bad batch #tech tbb #tbb #analysis #the bad batch season 3 #TECH LIVES!#DOMICILE y'all!!! what the kriff...

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annarobszombies · 7 days ago

Note

Hello! This is 🦐 annon here!

I have made this request before for another writer but I wanted to see different visions on this.

Imagine a witch reader that has a connection with nature and uses it to help the Kos while not caring about keeping her nature a secret. In the meanwhile, senku notices this but tries to get a logic explaining every time because for him there is no damn way witches existed all the time and no one really notices. So one day while Perseus is almost finished, reader asks to borrow the ship for just one night, and when Ryusui asks why, reader just says: "oh, I want to make a protection spell so your journey won't be hard in the sea!". Senku hears that and ALMOST says it's illogical, but this idea pop in his mind that he just waits until the night and follows reader to the ship, trying to figure out this magic witch thing. Just to get completely shocked when he saw the true nature of a witch in her action, the power that floats around reader while she cast the protection spell on the Perseus.

Don't know how to flow after that, it's up to you! Hope you have a great day!

Hello shrimp anon!

This fits so well with my horror/fantasy AU because magic would totally be more effective in the stone world

Old spirits and creatures from folklore he could accept. This was the stone world after all. Once humans were no longer an issue, anything that had been hiding from them was sure to start coming back around.

But magic? That was harder to believe.

Physical beings could be studied. If they were intelligent, they could be interviewed. But magic was little more than a concept. Something that was just science mixing with superstition. There was no evidence that it was-or ever had been-real. But it made you happy to believe that you could do it, so he just let it go.

“Ryusui!” Senku’s head turns at the sound of your voice. It was getting late, everyone needed to get some sleep so that tomorrow could go smoother. He watches from where he was sitting a short distance away as you walk with a little extra pep in your step right up to the captain of the Perseus.

He doesn’t hear what’s said between the two of you, but whatever it is has Ryusui’s eyebrows rising, one of his big, slow grins spreading over his face.

“Of course!” Ryusui yells. “I want it!” You laugh, your head nodding in agreement. Then you turn, and walk off.

“What was that all about?” Senku asks as he approaches the other man.

“They’re going to put a magical barrier on the ship!” Ryusui says. “I’m not totally sure I believe in all that, but when we’re on the open sea, we’re going to need all the help we can get. Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong,” Senku says. It was just something you were doing to make yourself feel better about the long journey ahead, and nothing more.

Wishing Ryusui a good night, Senku wanders the direction you’d gone off in. If you were going to mess around the ship in the middle of the night, you should at least have someone nearby in case something happened. Besides, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit curious. He’d never actually seen you cast your spells before, so he wondered just what went into something like this- whether it was real or not.

He trails after you quietly, and you either don’t notice him or don’t care, as you never once look back or try to speak to him. Maybe you were mentally preparing yourself, reciting your spell in your head so you didn’t stumble over it. You could be making a list of things you had to do, or what you needed in order to accomplish whatever it was you were planning.

He appreciated your meticulous nature.

When you reach the Perseus, you sigh out a soft ‘okay!’ and start up the ramp, hands digging through the little bag you always kept on your hip for your ”spellwork”. He follows you up onto the deck, and finally speaks up.

“So, what’s the plan here?” He asks, watching you stoop down to draw something on the wood with a piece of chalk.

“Protection spells are usually really easy for me, but this one has to be big, so I’ve gotta make sure I do it right,” You say, not fully answering his question.

“Anything I can do to help?” He may not be a believer, but you two were on the same team. He had no issue helping set up candles or tying herbs together for you.

“Um,” You pause, standing back to your full height and putting your hands on your hips. “Actually, yes. Can you come hold something for me real fast?”

“Sure, alright,” He says, following where you point him to. Once in position, you pull that something out of your bag. The one thing you don’t let anyone look at too closely.

Your spellbook is heavier than he’d expected, and he nearly drops it when you dump it in his hands to hold for you while you open and flip through it quickly. It takes everything he has not to stare at the pages of formulas and try to work them out.

Magic sure looked a lot like math in several places. But you turn the pages too quickly for him to gather much information. He makes a mental note to try to convince you to let him see it again another day.

“Oh- this one!” You stop at a page within the first quarter of the book. Smoothing your hands over the page, your eyes dart across the stone age paper, muttering under your breath as you read your own scrawled notes. Once satisfied, you take the book from him, slapping it shut and shoving it back into your bag.

So, it was more of a reference book than anything else. Interesting.

“Okay, so,” You take a breath, stepping into the middle of your lines of chalk. “This should be super fast.”

“Anything I need to do?” He asks. You shake your head.

“You can just stand there and watch.”

Fair enough, he supposed. Though, it wasn’t like anything was going to happ-

You close your eyes and inhale a long, slow breath. The air around the two of you changes, the breeze whipping around you and tugging at clothes and hair. It wasn’t anything crazy, but it was enough to get his attention.

His heart beats hard in his chest. Even though there were no bright flashing lights or words spoken, he could feel the shift in the world around him. The way the wind swirled around you, how the water calmed to near perfect stillness, and how the trees seemed to stretch their branches towards you, reaching for you as if to give you their power.

When you exhale and open your eyes, he’s not even sure he’s looking at you anymore. Your gaze held something in it he’d never seen in another human being. Hell, even the spirits he’d been having to shoo away from everything for the past few years didn’t look like that.

His mind races, trying to find a reason for everything. Maybe the weather was having a sudden turn, or maybe he was exhausted. Maybe he’s even inhaled something and is massively hallucinating.

But something in him, something deep in his blood and under his bones, told him that it wasn’t that simple. That what he was looking at had no logical explanation. That magic had no logical explanation.

He’s still reeling from the experience when you put a hand on his shoulder, startling him.

“Hey, you okay?” You ask, worried.

“What just…” He doesn’t know what to say, or what to do. A smile creeps onto your face, slow and knowing. You pat him on the shoulder before reaching to take one of his hands and start pulling him along with you back off the ship.

He looks back over his shoulder, eyes catching sight of the lines of chalk you’d just been standing in. He watches as they fade into little sparkles of dim light, each speck sinking into the Perseus and strengthening it.

“We aren’t going to make sure it worked?” He finally manages to ask once his feet hit the dirt.

“It worked,” You say with a soft hum.

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

#dr stone #doctor stone #senku ishigami #ishigami senku #dr stone senku #senku x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader

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softonstyles · 1 month ago

Text

Part Six

Part Five

A/N: part six is here! i can't wait for everything i have planned to unfold for you all :) thank you so much for reading - as always, i love to hear from you, so feel free to reach out with your thoughts <3

Word Count: 2.3K

The restaurant was just as Charlotte had described — refined, intimate, and undeniably alluring.

Soft candle light flickered on every table, casting warm golden hues over polished wood and plush velvet seating. In the far corner, a live band played Cumbia; the rhythmic beat of the percussion weaving seamlessly with the low murmur of conversation. The music pulled at something deep in Aurora’s chest, pulling her back to vibrant childhood summers in Cartagena.

Aurora’s parents hadn’t been able to afford childcare during school breaks, so she and her brother were sent to the northern coast of Colombia to stay with their grandparents. Those summers were etched into her memory — the thick coastal air, the sun-drenched streets bursting with color, the unshakable sense of belonging she felt there.

Something she could never quite guarantee in the States.

The host led them to a corner table tucked near the back of the dining room. He pulled out Charlotte’s chair, while Harry, ever the gentleman, did the same for Aurora. She murmured a quiet thank you, her voice barely audible beneath the gentle hum of the restaurant, before taking a seat.

Aurora and Charlotte sat next to one another, and Harry directly across from them.

Or rather, directly across from Aurora.

“Camarones al ajillo,” Harry read aloud, his tone thoughtful. “I know camarones are shrimp, but what’s ajillo?”

“Right?” Charlotte added. “Some of these don’t have descriptions. What if I end up ordering something I don’t like?”

Aurora lifted her gaze from the menu. “Ajillo means garlic. It’s shrimp cooked in a garlic sauce, usually served with rice or plantains.” She turned to Charlotte, voice softening. “Need help with anything else on the menu?”

Charlotte shook her head, but Harry’s attention stayed on Aurora. “Do you speak Spanish?”

“I do,” she nodded. “My family’s from Colombia.”

“Cool, right?” Charlotte beamed.

“Very,” Harry agreed. “Colombia is beautiful. Do you visit often?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” Aurora admitted. “But I spent every summer there as a kid.”

Harry leaned back slightly, as if picturing it. The weight of his gaze made Aurora reach for her glass of water, an unspoken need to break the moment.

The waiter arrived then, ready for their drink orders. Charlotte chose the house sangria, while Aurora ordered an Aperol Spritz.

“And for you, sir?” the waiter asked Harry.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Harry responded without hesitation, his eyes never leaving Aurora’s.

A simple gesture, yet it resonated deeply with Aurora — a feeling that Harry had given her something just for them, a private connection in the midst of all the noise. She could have been reading too much into it, but the way his eyes had been following her all night made Aurora think otherwise.

“So,” Harry began, “Charlotte tells me you’re starting a doctorate program.”

“I am,” Aurora nodded. “I start on Monday, the same day as Charlotte.”

“A doctorate,” Harry echoed, clearly impressed. “That’s incredible. You should be proud.”

A blush warmed Aurora’s cheeks. “Thank you, but it’s nothing big — just in physical therapy, which isn’t, like, medical school or anything.”

“Oh, stop,” Charlotte interjected with a dramatic wave of her hand. “She’s going to be a doctor of osteotherapy. Don’t let her fool you, Dad — Aurora’s insanely smart.”

“She hasn’t fooled me. I can see that.”

Wow.

Aurora let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “You’re both being too nice. Honestly, anyone could have gotten into the program.”

“Anyone isn’t you, Aurora.”

Before she could respond to his firm statement, the waiter returned with their drinks. “To Aurora,” Harry said, lifting his glass, “for starting her doctorate.”

Then he turned to Charlotte, a look of adoration on his face. “And to my darling Charlotte, for starting her MBA. I’m proud of you both.”

Charlotte clinked her glass against theirs, her smile wide and full of life. “Cheers to us!”

They raised their glasses and took a sip — Charlotte’s head back toward the ceiling, Aurora’s eyes shifting toward Harry, and Harry’s staying firmly on hers.

————— ୨୧ —————

An hour later, their plates were nearly clean, only crumbs and smears of sauce marking the remnants of meals that had been savored. Aurora reclined in her chair, a pleasant warmth flowing through her body — a mixture of expertly made cocktails and the surprising ease of the evening. The night had turned out far better than she had expected sitting across from Harry, and the tension from earlier now seemed almost laughable.

But the truth was, with Harry, relaxation never came easily. There was something about him — an unspoken authority, a calm confidence that made every moment more intense. His presence made her second-guess everything, each thought measured, every word scrutinized. And when she finally did speak, a nagging doubt would remain, wondering if her words had been wrong or misplaced. It was frustrating, the way his opinion held such weight.

Yet, every time they conversed, her nerves unraveled beneath the weight of his sincerity. His composure wasn’t just natural; it was paired with an attentiveness that made every exchange feel significant. There was no escaping its weight, and the worst part? He probably had no idea how much it affected her.

The cocktails certainly helped smooth the edges of that awareness.

Aurora swirled the last sip of Aperol Spritz in her glass, its citrusy aroma mingling with the muted symphony of voices drifting through the room. Beside her, Charlotte’s chair pushed back from the table as she stood, voice light with tipsiness.

“Bathroom break,” she announced. “Don’t talk about anything fun while I’m gone!”

As Charlotte disappeared into the crowd, silence settled between Aurora and Harry. Awareness sharpened. For the first time all evening, they were alone.

“How was dinner?” The question came in that relaxed, steady way of his.

Aurora finished the last bite of rice and reached for a napkin before answering. “The chicken stew was incredible. Easily one of the best I’ve had in years.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Harry said, a pleased smile on his face.

“What about yours?” She nodded toward his plate. “The shrimp looked delicious.”

“It was,” he answered. Then, without hesitation, he leaned forward, offering a piece on his fork. “Want to try?”

She felt a brief flare of nerves, but the heat of her second drink helped Aurora relax and let go.

Why not?

Leaning in, Aurora’s lips brushed the edge of the fork as she took a bite. Tender shrimp, buttery and rich with garlic, melted on her tongue. Across the table, Harry’s movements stilled.

“Mm,” she murmured, savoring the flavor. “You were right. Delicious.”

A decision settled in her mind at that moment.

If Harry wanted to play, she was game.

He parted his lips as if to reply, but no words came. For the first time, it felt like she had caught him off guard, just as he so often did to her.

The realization was tantalizing.

With deliberate care, Aurora reached for a napkin, dabbing at her lips. “Sorry,” she said lightly, allowing the moment to linger. “That was a little messy.” To punctuate her point, she retrieved a lipstick and compact mirror from her purse. The case clicked open, and she took her time, reapplying with slow, precise strokes.

Aurora didn’t need to look up to know Harry was watching.

Before the moment could stretch any further, Charlotte returned, her voice bright and bubbling with excitement. “Ugh, I love this beat!” She grabbed Aurora’s hand, practically bouncing in place. “C’mon, let’s dance.”

Charlotte tugged Aurora toward the small dance floor near the live band, laughter spilling from them as the lively rhythm of Cumbia filled the space. The music was a time machine, transporting Aurora back to childhood nights spent at family parties, where older relatives had taught her everything from salsa to merengue. Muscle memory took over, the steps returning with ease.

Taking the lead, she guided Charlotte through the steps, her movements fluid, effortless. Charlotte, always quick on her feet, followed with surprising grace. They spun, twirled, their laughter blending with the music until nothing else existed but the beat beneath their feet.

It had been so long since Aurora had let herself enjoy a moment like this. The past two years had been a blur of long hours and sacrifice, every spare dollar funneled into her doctorate program. Nights out had been rare, indulgence kept at arm’s length. But here, under the glow of candlelight, surrounded by music and the easy joy of movement, she felt something stir — something that had been buried beneath responsibility and restraint.

This wasn’t just a night out. It was a glimpse of the person she used to be. Someone who danced. Someone who laughed. Someone who allowed herself to simply feel.

The shift happened so quickly, she barely had time to register it. One moment, she was spinning Charlotte, their laughter cutting through the din of the restaurant. The next, Charlotte was whisked away by a stranger bold enough to step in.

Instinct sent Aurora’s gaze to her friend, searching for any sign of discomfort, but Charlotte was already flashing a mischievous grin — equal parts approval and amusement — before turning her attention to the newcomer. Aurora smirked, rolling her eyes as she drifted toward the edge of the floor, still moving with the beat.

The band transitioned into a vibrant salsa, one of her favorites. The music took hold, guiding her movements, hips swaying with flowing rhythm. Each step was fluid, curls bouncing as she spun, lost in the pure exhilaration of it all. But on one particular turn, her gaze landed on their table.

Harry was watching.

The expression on his face wasn’t just appreciative — it was transfixed. Admiration flickered behind his gaze, but beneath it lay something deeper, something that sent a slow wave of heat coursing through her. The soft pull of a smile at the corner of his mouth was enough to make her breath hitch, but it was the way his green eyes held her — sharp, intent — that truly unraveled Aurora.

So she leaned into it.

The next turn came with deliberate precision, hips moving with a touch more purpose, hands grazing the curve of her waist before sliding up into the wild mess of curls. It was playful, teasing — meant for no one but herself.

And if Harry happened to enjoy the view?

Well, that was just a fortunate side effect.

The song ended, and Charlotte was back at Aurora’s side before she could catch her breath. “Wasn’t that fun?”

A little too much, but Aurora only smiled. “Very.”

“Guess what? That guy asked for my number.”

Aurora laughed, tilting her head. “And?”

“Did you see his face?” Charlotte wiggled her brows.

A knowing look passed between them before Aurora arched hers. “And what about Ben? I thought you liked him.”

“I do, I do!” Charlotte insisted. “But it’s not official. At least not yet. Besides, this guy works nearby.”

“Charlotte!” Aurora gasped, feigning scandal. “Don’t be a cad. You have a good thing going with Ben.”

“Don’t start.” Charlotte stuck out her tongue.

As they reached the table, Harry looked up, eyes flickering between them. “You two seemed to be having a good time out there.”

Charlotte grinned, brushing a stray hair from her face. “That was nothing compared to our college days. Aurora can be a total party animal when she lets loose —”

“Charlotte,” Aurora warned. “That’s not true. She’s exaggerating.”

“Am I?” Charlotte teased, lifting her empty glass and frowning. “Shoot. I need another drink.”

Before she could flag the waiter, Harry cut in smoothly. “I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight,” he said, then turned to Aurora with a pointed look. “Both of you.”

The car ride back to the apartment was quieter, yet the tension between them remained in the air. Aurora rested her head against the cool window, glancing over at Harry each time he shifted in his seat. His profile was captivating — impossibly handsome, with a calm steadiness in the way his hands gripped the wheel. The soft glow from the dashboard lights highlighted his sharp features, and she found herself wondering what it would feel like to reach out and trace her fingers along his jaw.

She didn’t bother hiding the way she watched him; two drinks in, her inhibitions had all but vanished.

When they arrived at their apartment, Charlotte practically jumped out of the car, mumbling something about needing the bathroom again. Aurora lingered behind, struggling to unfasten her seat belt.

“Thank you for dinner, Mr. Styles,” Aurora said softly, her voice carrying a feeling she hoped wasn’t too noticeable.

“I’m glad you came,” Harry turned slightly, meeting her gaze. “Did you have fun?”

“I did,” Aurora replied, a slow smile spreading across her face. “A lot.”

She tried again to unbuckle her seat belt, but the latch refused to cooperate. Aurora kept her eyes on Harry as she laughed nervously. “Is this seat belt always this tricky?”

Harry leaned over, his arm brushing against hers as he easily released the buckle. The warm, woodsy scent of his cologne filled the space between them, and her breath caught. Their eyes locked, the distance between them suddenly both too small and yet impossibly large.

“There you go,” he said, voice low and almost teasing.

His gaze stilled, and for a beat, it felt like time itself had slowed.

“Come on, Aurora!” Charlotte’s voice broke the spell, and Aurora blinked, reluctantly pulling her eyes away as she reached for the door handle.

“Drive safe,” she murmured, heart still racing.

Harry smiled faintly. “Have a good night, Aurora.”

As she stepped out of the car, the fresh night air hit her, but it did little to cool the heat pooling in her chest. She glanced back one last time, meeting Harry’s curious green eyes through the window.

Aurora was, without a doubt, in way over her head.

And heart.

Part Seven

————— ୨୧ —————

Tag List: (thank you all for tuning in - please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from this list): @fangirl509east @saraxoxo12567 @kyle-xian @mellamolayla @gem1712 @br3akfestattiffanys @amazinglystyles @harryyloverrr @batmanwoman8 @cherrywinerare @hannah9921 @xoxmatilda @femalestyles @boom-shaka-la @mrswidowjohansson @gigglingstyles @tobegoodisgood

#best friends dad harry #bfd!harry #dad harry #dadrry #forbidden romance #harry styles story #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles romance #older!harry #romance #slow burn romance #softonstyles

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