#a journey of reflection and healing n all that

[dazesanddoodles]

i don't even go here but like everyone i too have "tommy's abysmal relationship with his parents" thoughts that i am choosing to express through some baby tees i saw online

with mom:

with dad:

[marvel-spidey]

We’ve Still Got Time

Summary: After receiving some life-altering news, you try to make Bucky understand that it's time to let the past go. Inspired by the song “Falling Slowly” (in my mind it was written just for Bucky ok 🥺) Pairing: Bucky x reader Word count: 3.1k Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, lots of tears, extreme fluff. A/n: English is not my first language, so sorry in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Enjoy! also, happy 2025 for us bucky girlies!!! our man is coming back soon! ✨

Bucky woke up to the sound of running water and a toothbrush being used. The white light from the bathroom spilled into the bedroom you both shared. The clock on his nightstand read 4:07 a.m. He slowly opened his eyes and turned to the side, realizing your side of the bed was empty. Furrowing his eyebrows, he wondered why you were up at this hour brushing your teeth. Unable to think of a reason fast enough, he decided to get up and check on you.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked in a confused tone, his hoarse voice carrying the weight of sleep. His hair was a little messy, and his metal arm reflected the soft light from the bathroom. He was shirtless, and his gray sweatpants hung just above his hips.

“I’m sorry I woke you, Buck,” you replied, drying your face with a small towel. “I don’t know. I think I must have eaten something that didn’t sit well with my stomach. I just woke up feeling really nauseous. I threw up, but at least I feel a little better now.”

Bucky closed the distance between you, moving toward you slowly and giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. His expression was serious, his lips almost forming a pout.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I feel bad knowing you were sick all by yourself.”

He held your face softly, and you looked up at him, scanning his features and silently admiring how concerned he always was for you. You couldn’t understand how someone so caring could think such terrible things about himself and carry so much guilt when this was the man he really was: calm, reliable, attentive. You prayed he could see it someday, too.

“I wouldn’t wake you,” you replied, caressing his cheek gently. “I know those nightmares have been coming back these past few weeks, haven’t they?”

He looked down, ashamed he hadn’t been able to hide them from you. You always knew.

He sighed and nodded, reluctantly admitting the unpleasant truth. His nightmares came in phases. Sometimes, they haunted him almost every night with terrible flashes from his past – people he had killed, accidents he had caused, futures he had destroyed. Or worse, scenarios in which you would get hurt. Sometimes, by him. Those were the worst ones. Other times they would come less frequently, almost letting him believe that he was making progress in his “healing journey”, as you liked to call it. But they eventually came back. To him, they were proof he would never truly be at peace, never able to leave the past behind.

“Yes, as usual,” he admitted. “But it’s okay. You don’t need to worry.”

“That’s impossible,” you replied, already recognizing his habit of downplaying things and subtly pushing you away, retreating into his world of self-loathing. “I’ll always worry. I just wish you would have talked to me about it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said while engulfing you in a warm hug. He had a defeated expression in his features that made you even more worried. God knows what kind of thoughts he was having about himself. You wish you could take them away.

“Let’s just go back to sleep, so you’re rested and feeling better in the morning. Deal?” You smiled weakly and decided to let the matter go, for now. “Deal,” you agreed, letting him take your hand and guide you back to bed. For the next few weeks, you continued to have moments where you felt unwell.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but your body started to feel different. Your stomach was more sensitive than usual, leaving you with the now-familiar waves of nausea. You felt sleepier at random moments during the day, and your stamina during training sessions at the compound suddenly diminished. You felt more out of breath during workouts and sparring. And food began to smell and taste different. One morning, the pancakes Bucky made you almost daily for breakfast smelled “eggier” than usual—you could smell the eggs in the batter from what felt like miles away.

After weeks of feeling like this, you thought it was probably due to low vitamin levels and decided you should schedule a routine doctor’s appointment soon.

But in one of your weekly sparring sessions with Natasha, you started to feel a slight dizziness, so you asked her for a time-out.

“Are you okay?” she asked, raising one of her eyebrows.

“Yeah, I just—I don’t know. I’ve been feeling kind of weak for a while now,” you admitted, closing your eyes and resting a hand on your forehead in an attempt to steady yourself. “I think I just need to get some blood work done. It’s been a while since my last check-up.” “Weak how, exactly?”

“I feel like I’m always tired lately. More worn out. And my appetite is all over the place.”

Natasha looked at you with a suspicious expression before asking an unexpected question.

“Hmm, feeling weak, huh? Have you taken a pregnancy test?”

Your eyes shot open, and you stared at her, trying to process what she had just said. “What?”

“Yes, have you?” Nat repeated, crossing her arms and leaning into one hip with a slight smirk as if she knew something you didn’t.

“I- No, I- I didn’t… My period is only two days late, which is sort of normal for me. Do you think I should?” you questioned her, not knowing if you were talking more to yourself or to her.

“(Y/n) yes, you should! Have you talked to Barnes about it?”

“Not really. I didn’t pay much attention to this. I didn’t have time to.”

The truth was, you and the whole team had been preparing for an important mission in a few months, one that had been weighing heavily on Bucky’s mind especially, since it involved Hydra. The team was set to infiltrate a secret Hydra base in Hungary in order to retrieve intel on potential undercover Hydra agents within S.H.I.E.L.D.

You were almost sure this was the reason Bucky’s nightmares had gotten worse. He tensed up every time you or someone else mentioned the mission, or during training, probably dreading the feeling of going back to a place so connected to everything that he wanted to forget. He tried so hard to hide it but for you, it was so easy to sense his anxiety. The way his blue eyes grew distant, drifting to the floor as if trying to escape his own thoughts. Or how his fists clenched, fingers pressing into his palms almost to the point of pain, while he tried to take deep breaths every time Steve went over the mission details with the group.

“Then take the test,” Natasha urged, stepping closer and putting a reassuring hand on yours when she noticed the frightened look on your face. “If you’re pregnant, you need to know before the mission. And you need to tell Barnes. You both need to decide if going on this mission is still an option.”

“But Nat” you began, squeezing her hand, feeling so scared and unprepared for the scenario she just mentioned.  “I- I don’t know if Bucky is in a good headspace for this now. He’s been so off lately. The Hydra stuff has been really getting to him.”

Natasha offered you a comforting smile, her confidence and support unwavering.

“You’ll both be fine. I’m here if you need me. And Steve is, too.” Later that same day, you found yourself in a situation you never imagined you’d be in right now.

Trembling hands, tears streaming down your face, and your heartbeat drumming loudly in your ears. A white and blue pregnancy test sat on the marble counter of your bathroom. You stared at the word that appeared on the small screen.

+ Pregnant

You froze. You looked at yourself in the mirror and blinked a few times to make sure you weren’t dreaming. You weren’t. A wave of happiness washed over you. So much happiness. It was unexpected, yes, but you had always told Bucky he would be a wonderful dad. Yet every time you brought up the subject, he’d say he would like to be a father someday, but that it probably wasn’t a good idea. According to him, he could never be a good role model for a child.

Your first thought was running to Nat or Steve. You wanted to tell one of them and hear that everything would be alright, that Bucky would be alright with all of this. But it was already kind of late. They’re probably asleep by now, you thought to yourself. At the same time, you knew the person who really needed to know about this was in the living room, watching a random reality TV show with Sam.

You couldn’t bear to be alone another minute. The anxiety was overwhelming.

You decided to text Bucky and ask him to come to your room. If you went to the living room, there was no way Sam wouldn’t notice something was up, and you didn’t need another situation right now.

���Can you please come to our room, it’s urgent.” You texted and hoped he would check his phone as soon as possible.

Not even five minutes later you heard the door of your room open, followed by anxious footsteps entering the room.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay? I just got your text.” Bucky asked, his voice filled with concern.

“Hi, love” you said, stepping out of the bathroom and faking a half smile, searching for his hand and guiding him to the bed. You were terrified but at the same time you didn’t wanna scare him. “Come with me, I need to talk to you.”

“What happened?” Bucky questioned, his eyes quickly searching your face for any clues of what might have happened. You could see the worry creeping into his expression.

You sat next to him on the bed and held his hands tightly. The cold touch of his metal hand on yours offered a brief distraction from what you were about to tell him. You took a deep breath, still unsure how to begin. You decided that starting with some context might be easier.

“So, basically, for the past few weeks, I’ve started to feel a little… off. Do you remember the night you woke up because I felt sick in the middle of the night?”

“Yes, I do” Bucky answered calmly, trying to figure out where you were going with this.

“Well, besides that, I’ve been feeling different. My stomach has been constantly upset, my appetite has been strange, I’ve been feeling more tired than usual, and I–”

“(Y/n), are you sick?” Bucky interrupted, already imagining all the worst scenarios in his head.

“Buck, no” you replied quickly, closing your eyes and trying to breathe to calm yourself down. “Listen. As I was saying, I talked about these symptoms with Nat today and she… she asked... if I had already taken a pregnancy test.”

You paused, watching his face closely for a reaction. He seemed to freeze, taking a few seconds to process your words. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath – a breath that felt heavy with sadness. It broke your heart.

He opened his eyes again and they were glistening with tears. His eyes looked even more blue than they already were.

For a moment, you considered not saying anything more, but you knew he needed to hear it – all of it.

“So, I… I took a test just now,” you continued, your voice trembling as tears began to run down your face. “And it’s… it’s positive.” You wiped your nose with the sleeve of your sweater, struggling to keep your composure.

“I’m sorry” you said crying, heartbroken because this was the reaction you had been dreading. You felt like you had ruined his life.

Now, he was the one silently crying. He still held your hands, his thumb softly tracing circles over your palm, his gaze fixed on your intertwined fingers.

“Please, say something, Bucky,” you pleaded, the silence only giving your mind space to imagine horrible possibilities.

“No, I’m the one who should be saying sorry, (Y/n),” he finally said, his voice breaking as tears slowly streamed down his face. “This baby deserves someone better. You deserve someone better.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, reaching out to hold his cheek, your heart breaking at the words that he had just spoken. “What do you mean, ‘we deserve someone better’?”

“Yes! Yes, you do!” he exclaimed, his voice rising as he finally let the storm inside him surface. “How is this baby going to grow up knowing all the awful things I’ve done?”

He got up from the bed, putting some distance between the two of you. He was still crying quietly, and it felt like he had been keeping this inside for so long. His body was facing the window. He couldn’t even look at you.

“You didn’t do those things, Buck. The Winter Soldier did,” you spoke clearly, hoping that he would somehow believe it.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I still did it.”

“Of course it matters! You didn’t have a choice!” you raised your voice, frustrated at how he could still blame himself so much.

“Everyone tells me that, but it doesn’t help, you know?” he replied, turning his body back toward you. His voice was low. “When I lie down to sleep, I keep seeing their faces. I can still hear their cries, begging for help, for mercy.”

“Buck, I—I’m so sorry,” you told him, holding your tears back again. You’d give anything to take his sadness away.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be free from what they did to me,” he stated, his face showing a defeated expression. “I know Ayo got the Hydra programming out of my mind in Wakanda, but still… it’s all here,” he said, pressing his index finger to his temple. “I remember all of them, and I always will.”

You got up and decided to close the distance between you. You raised both of your hands to his cheeks and held his face gently, making him look at you. You needed him to hear every word you were about to say.

“Honey, look at me,” you began, your voice serious but soft. “I can’t even begin to imagine how you must feel. And I want you to know I’d do anything – anything – if I could to make this suffering go away. It breaks my heart to see you in so much pain and not be able to do anything-”

“No, sweetheart, but you do,” he interrupted you, wiping the tears from your face. “You have no idea how many ways you’ve saved me.”

He closed his eyes and kissed your forehead. Both of you were crying again, and you could feel all his gratitude in that one kiss.

“You save me every day. It would be impossible for me to survive those nightmares if I didn’t have your face to look at every time I wake from one of them.” He gave you a sad smile while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand resting on your cheek afterward.

You leaned into his metal hand and kissed his palm. Your eyes were once again glistening with tears.

“Do you see this, James?” you asked, hoping that he would understand what you were trying to show him.

“This is you,” you continued, placing one hand on his heart. “This is Bucky Barnes. The man who has a metal arm and touches me like I’m the most fragile thing in the world. The man who makes pancakes for me every morning. The man who’s afraid of punching me too hard in our sparring sessions, even though he knows I’m a kick-ass agent.”

“That you are,” he agreed, both of you crying and laughing at the same time. You quickly wiped his tears away.

“The man who watches trashy reality TV shows with his friend on a Thursday night. This is you. And this is the man who is going to be the father of my child,” you finished, placing his flesh hand on your belly.

He continued to cry. You just prayed that your words would finally make their way into his heart.

“So tell me, how could you say I deserve better? That this baby deserves better?”

He was still looking at his hand on your belly, trying to understand how he could still be worthy of having a family after he had destroyed so many others.

“Look at me, Buck,” you called, guiding his gaze back to you. “You suffered enough. More than enough. You’ve warred with yourself for so long. It’s time that you won.”

He closed his eyes and tried to absorb the words he had just heard. It was so hard for him to accept that he deserved happiness, but he was so grateful that you have never stopped trying.

“You made it. We’re here, and you made it. Now we’ve still got time. We’ve still got all the time in the world for you to finally live. Your life, how you want it,” you continued, kissing the palm of his metal hand again. It was your way of showing him that you loved all of him, even the part that brought him the most pain.

“This baby is so lucky to have you as a dad. And to be honest, this kid is going to brag so much to the other children about how his dad’s got a metal arm.” For the first time, you heard an honest laugh escape from his lips. The sound was wonderful.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but it must have been something really good,” he replied, finally pulling you close and giving you a warm kiss.

“I love you- we love you.”

“I’m so scared. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to… be a role model for someone.” You could see the worry in his eyes. He was genuinely scared.

“Bucky, yes, you do. You just have to be you. I don’t need you to be perfect,  I just need you to be here. Can you do that for us, Sergeant?”

He gave you a warm smile, filled with gratitude and hope - the hope you had just given him. He looked at your lips and kissed you once more, holding your belly delicately.

“Yes, I can, ma’am. Yes, I can.” he agreed easily “but.. speaking of sergeant, now there’s no way you’re going on that mission.”

“Excuse me? I’m still in the first few weeks of this pregnancy. And how about you? This baby will need both parents.”

“Okay okay, so we’ll let Uncle Steve decide who's going and who’s not. Deal?”

“Okay, sir. Deal.”

Well, you have suffered enough And warred with yourself It's time that you won Take this sinking boat and point it home We've still got time Raise your hopeful voice, you had a choice You've made it now ~~ Falling Slowly (from the musical Once)

Feedback is always welcome, feel free to comment, like and reblog! Hope you enjoyed 🤍

[starshipsofstarlord]

lap girl (2)

summary. daryl needs comfort at the greene farm after he fails to find sophia again. luckily his girl is willing to give him exactly what he needs; her in his lap

warnings. fluff, angst mentions of daryl’s childhood abuse, mentions of death, swearing

divider credits. @cafekitsune

greene farm

It was a new place, and they didn’t belong, and were only welcome due to the miss-aim of Otis. If he had hadn’t ricocheted a bullet into Carl, then their group that had travelled from Atalanta to the CDC and then some, would never have found this little piece of solace. Daryl’s eyes squinted beneath the glaring sun as he sought out the figure that had brazen themself to be absorbed in the daylight, feeling safe since there were barbed fences separating them from the wilderness in which the dead freely roamed. Y/n was enjoying the quiet that surrounded her, sitting upon the blades of grass that handed no threat in her direction.

It was pleasant to see her so peaceful, she wasn’t running for her life, or scavenging for scraps to replenish her hunger, she was instead still, and content in being so. But feeling secure wasn’t enough; it wouldn’t last, it never did. They’d eventually be sent on their way back to the trailing lands that had lead them here in the first place. The road was cruel, and it would only get worse when winter devoured them with the hardships of its crisp air.

And Daryl resented the foreshadowed thought, as they would need more supplies and warm food, and a fire big enough to bring heat to them all. The embers would only attract the undead and threaten them with even more loss, and whilst Daryl wasn’t particularly fond of many people in the group, he had somehow integrated within its ties after Merle’s absence.

Merle had left him before, in the worst possible way - alone with their father William Dixon. He understood that his elder brother had wanted to escape from the abusive entrapment, and thus he had allowed Daryl to be single-handedly foreseen by their parent as a punching bag; and worse. He still had the scars that were far too prominent over his body, they were askew like lines in a map, permanent and hadn’t faded since the sharp indents that had once been bloody had healed.

He resonated in a ying and yang parallel with Carol, the mother of Carol. She was distraught with Sophia’s fleet, already grieving her loss when there was nothing sufficed to state that she was either dead or alive, and Daryl felt responsible to uncover the reality that encased the child, to bring comfort to not only her mourning mother, but the rest of the group. It was an unsure journey that he had already been scathed from, a bullet that only with luck grazed his temple, and an arrow that was plunged from the long fall into his side, but he needed to do this.

Daryl knew what it felt like to be alone when he had been of the same age as Sophia, however he had discovered a loophole through the tormenting years prior to the contagion that infected the human vessel; there was a girl. He had been instantaneously drawn to her, although at first he had wanted to keep his distance, he’d never allowed anyone close. But she made him see the sun shine in every smile that composed itself upon her face and each glimmer that reflected in her eyes.

She made him feel safe. And so here he was, seeking her out as the gauze remained attached to his head, and if anyone saw him he was sure he would look like a fool. The normally obscure and grouchy Daryl appeared giddy as he stepped towards his human lifeline, his footsteps uncoordinated as he felt the ache in his side brew.

At the sound of shuffling fabric behind her, y/n’s head whipped around, she knew better than to just assume that there was no danger that could appear out of nowhere. Even with the serene tranquility that was deranging her viewpoint from the world that had began feasting on itself, there was always the risk that getting too comfortable would end in death. And Daryl smirked at the sight of the blade that shone from the sun in her hand.

“Thought you were a walker you ass!” She exclaimed, her mouth widening in a teeth baring smile. Her blade was placed back in its hiding spot as she felt the need to aid Daryl in seating himself next to her, her palm remaining against his bare arm. “I kicked Andrea’s ass after her shit shot, told her to get Herschel check her eyesight.” Daryl shook his head lightly as to not cause any more disturbance to his injury, promptly nudging her with his shoulder as he allowed himself to laugh at her protective demeanour towards the blonde.

“Yer real funny sunshine.” His rare smile was prominent as he endearingly looked at his girl, wrapping his arm around the back of her relaxed shoulder blades as he brought her closer. But close was still not close enough. “C’mere.” Daryl agilely helped her climb onto his lap, the place he reserved solely for her, his rough yet tender hands remaining on her hips as he brought his face near to y/n’s, rubbing their noses together in a sweet eskimo kiss.

He was exhausted, and he felt like a failure, but she was the only comfort that he needed. Her form was facing his own, and she brushed her featherlight fingertips against his cheekbones, sparing a glare to the dressing. “We’ll find her.” She whispered gently, shutting her eyelids as she melted into him. “But for now you need to rest honey, I’m not having you wear yourself into the ground.” His head rested against her collarbone, inhaling her presence as he tried not to be frustrated with himself.

It wasn’t his fault that Sophia had ran for her life off of the highway, and he wasn’t guilt for being unable to find anything other than her stuffed toy. His hands ran up and down y/n’s back as he buried his head in the crook of her neck, finally taking a break from his daily searching. He just needed his girl planted in his lap, and all his qualms and insecurities became minor.

[lilmisssona]

꥟˚｡Love Unexpected ꥟˚｡

꥟˚｡Pairing - Lee Know × Fem Reader

꥟˚｡Plot - Two years after a horrible accident, YN is left paralyzed but secretly finds purpose in a quiet job. The stranger who saved her life reappears unexpectedly at her workplace, stirring emotions and memories she thought were buried. Their fateful encounter raises questions about second chances and unspoken connections.

꥟˚｡Genre - Angst, Trauma, Hurt, Comfort, Fluff

꥟˚｡Warnings - Mention of accident, blood, trauma, paralysis, anxiety, insecurities of yn, mention of the word gore, hurt to comfort, au, non idol au, Strangers to lovers au

꥟˚｡Word Count - 10.8 K ꥟˚｡Screenshot Count - 4

꥟˚｡A/N - Staymas Episode 2 is here! Dive into Y/N’s emotional journey of healing and rediscovery after life-altering events, and witness how Minho’s unwavering love and support become her guiding light. A story of resilience, love, and finding hope again. ( Inspired by Japan's Dawn Robo Cafe for disabled workers ) It's just slightly proofread so apologies for any mistakes 🙂‍↕️

꥟˚｡SKZ Masterlist ꥟˚｡Staymas Masterlist

The neon lights of Tokyo stretched endlessly, their vibrant colors blending together in the misty evening air. As you hurried down the crowded sidewalk, your breath formed small clouds, visible in the crisp chill of early winter. The rain from earlier had left the pavement slick, creating mirrors that reflected the glow of countless shop signs, vending machines, and the steady stream of passing cars. The city felt alive, buzzing with energy, but all you could focus on was the time ticking away. You were late…again.

“They’re going to kill me,” you muttered under your breath, gripping the straps of your bag like a lifeline. You had promised to be on time for the movie night, yet here you were, rushing through the streets twenty minutes after it had already started. The culprit? A last-minute customer at the café, who wanted all of the last stock left for the puddings.

Your phone vibrated incessantly in your pocket, no doubt another flurry of teasing texts from your friends. They loved to give you a hard time for always being late, and this would only add to their ammunition. You didn’t dare check the messages yet; it would only slow you down.

The crosswalk ahead blinked green just as you reached it. A small blessing. Without hesitation, you broke into a jog, your footsteps echoing faintly against the damp asphalt. The weight of guilt pressed heavily on your chest as your mind scrambled to come up with a plan.

"Should I bring snacks to make up for it?" you thought, already considering a detour to the nearest convenience store. "Maybe that’ll soften the blow. But what if they’re already too annoyed to let me in?"

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you quickly typed out a message to your friends, asking if they wanted anything specific. Your thumb hovered over the send button when a sharp, blaring horn shattered your concentration.

The world seemed to freeze.

Your head snapped up, and your eyes locked onto a truck barreling toward you, its headlights glaring like twin suns cutting through the darkness. Time moved in slow motion as panic gripped your entire body. Instinctively, your legs pushed you forward, trying desperately to cross the street, but it was too late.

This can’t be happening.

The impact came like a thunderclap, a brutal force that knocked the air from your lungs. Pain exploded through your body as you were flung backward. The world spun wildly,a chaotic blur of neon lights, muffled screams, and the distant screech of tires. When your body finally hit the ground, the cold, unforgiving pavement sent a jolt through you.

You tried to breathe, but each inhale was shallow and sharp, like your ribs were made of glass. Every part of you ached, your arms, your chest, your head. But what terrified you most was the eerie numbness in your lower body.

Your legs.

You tried to move them, but they wouldn’t respond. Panic clawed at your throat as the realization sank in. Something was horribly wrong.

Before your mind could spiral further, you felt a pair of strong arms scoop you up from the pavement. Warmth flooded over you as your cheek pressed against someone’s chest.

His scent-woodsy, clean, and faintly familiar,calmed you in a way you couldn’t explain.

“Stay with me,” he said, his voice deep and steady, cutting through the haze of pain and confusion.

You squinted, trying to focus on his face, but the pounding in your skull blurred your vision. All you could make out was the faint outline of his jaw and the shadows of his features against the streetlights. It seemed like you've seen him before, but where ?

“Who… who are you?” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling with pain and fear.

“Can you hear me? Are you okay?” he asked, his tone gentle but urgent. He shifted you slightly in his arms, cradling you as if you were made of glass.

“My… my legs,” you stammered, tears spilling over as you struggled to get the words out. “I can’t… feel them.”

His grip on you tightened just slightly, a quiet curse escaping under his breath. “Don’t worry about that right now,” he said, his voice firm yet soothing. “We’re almost there. Just hold on.”

The sound of approaching sirens grew louder, mingling with the distant hum of the city. Each step he took was deliberate and steady, as if he was determined to keep you safe no matter what.

Your vision blurred as the voices of the paramedics grew louder, their words a distant hum against the roaring chaos of your mind. The relentless pain and exhaustion finally overwhelmed you, lulling you into a deep, heavy sleep. The darkness took hold, pulling you further away from reality.

The last sensation you felt before slipping into unconsciousness was his hand,warm, firm, and undeniably reassuring, gently squeezing yours. His voice followed, low and steady, like a lifeline in the storm.

"You're going to be okay."

------------------------------------------------------

Two years had passed since that fateful evening.

Minho stepped off the bustling train platform in Tokyo, the city’s vibrant energy hitting him like a wave. It was a stark contrast to the quieter streets of Seoul, where he'd spent the last couple of years, working tirelessly to climb the ranks at his job. And now, he was back in Tokyo, taking on a new position. Not even two weeks into the job, and already, he found himself buried in meetings and overwhelmed by tight deadlines, leaving him exhausted.

One evening, with no work to occupy his mind, Minho decided to take a stroll around the city to clear his thoughts. The cold December air hit him sharply as he stepped out of his apartment, but there was something in the atmosphere that urged him to walk. Whistling a soft tune, he wandered through his neighborhood, which, to his surprise, was unusually quiet even in the early evening hues of 6 pm. Of course, people were likely busy, either shopping for the holidays, nestled in the warmth of their homes, or working, just as he had done for most of his days.

After hours of aimless walking, he found himself on a street that seemed strangely familiar. At first, he couldn’t place the memory, but as the traffic light turned green and he crossed the street, it hit him like a truck. This was the same street where the accident had occurred,the one where he had saved that woman….

-------------------------------------------------------

Two years ago, Minho's friends were having a get-together, and he had one simple task: bring dessert. Yet, as always, he had forgotten. Panic set in as he rushed through the streets, desperately searching for any café or restaurant still open that evening. Unfortunately, the city seemed to have shut down after 8 PM. He ran through neighborhood after neighborhood, street after street, but every café he passed was dark and locked up tight.

Finally, in the last neighborhood, feeling defeated, he was about to turn back when a soft glow from an establishment caught the corner of his eye. It looked like a café from a distance. His legs moved automatically in that direction, hoping, praying they still had any desserts left. Huffing and puffing, he pushed through the door, the sudden entrance startling the woman who was packing up some boxes for closing.

"Sorry," Minho said, breathless as he approached the counter.

"We’re about to close, sir," she replied, her voice distant, her attention still on the boxes.

"I’m so sorry for barging in last minute," he blurted out in a rush. "I completely forgot to bring dessert to a get-together with my friends, and every café in the neighborhood seems to be closed. If it’s possible, could you sell me any puddings you have left? I’ll take them all and be on my way."

He spoke so quickly that he almost didn’t pause for a breath, but still, she didn’t look up. The sincerity in his voice, however, seemed to reach her, and she paused her work, glancing up at him. She walked over to the counter, her gaze softening as she met his eyes.

"We’re closing, sir. I don’t think it’s possible," she said gently, though there was a hint of regret in her voice.

Minho felt a pang of disappointment but couldn’t help but notice how sweet her voice was, like honey. He blushed, and the warmth spread across his cheeks as he looked back at her. "I’m so sorry, I humbly request just a couple. I’ll pay, and I’ll be out of your way, I promise. It won’t take long."

------------------------------------------------------

From the woman’s perspective:

The man in front of her looked to be about the same age, his face a perfect mix of soft features and a sharp jawline. Even in a basic hoodie, sweat dripping from his face from his rush, there was an undeniable handsomeness about him. She felt a sudden catch in her throat, and for a moment, she was at a loss for words.

"Is that okay?" he asked again, his voice pulling her out of her daze.

"Y... yeah," she stammered, shaking herself from the shock. "We have a couple of puddings left. How many do you need?"

"Thank you," Minho replied, a grateful smile lighting up his face. "Could you pack 20, please?"

She nodded, quickly starting to pack a box full of puddings. Under her breath, she cursed as she glanced at the clock, she was running late.

End of her POV.

-------------------------------------------------------

Half an hour had since passed and Minho was rushing back to his friend's apartment when the scene unfolded in front of him. A truck barreled down the street, and there she was-the same woman from the café-standing frozen in its path. His heart dropped as he realized what was about to happen. Panic set in as he scrambled to help her, dropping the box of puddings he was carrying. But it was already too late. The truck struck her with full force, throwing her into the air. Her body slammed into the cold pavement with a sickening thud, and a pool of blood began to spread from beneath her head.

Minho didn't hesitate. He ran to her side, desperately trying to scoop her up. His phone was in his hand, but when he tried to call an ambulance, no one picked up. The nearest hospital was ten minutes away, and he knew carrying her was the only chance he had to save her. Adrenaline surged through him as he lifted her into his arms and began running, each step feeling like a race against time.

He spoke soothingly to her, trying to keep her awake. " Stay with me! She stirred beneath his touch, murmuring softly, "Who are you?"

Minho felt a rush of relief when he saw that she was still conscious. His voice, though gentle, carried a trace of urgency as he asked, “Are you okay? Can you hear me?” His words, meant to comfort, felt hollow, as if they couldn’t reach the depth of his fear. Panic surged through him once more when she whispered that she couldn’t feel her legs.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he said, his voice steady but laced with an underlying tension. “We’re almost there. Just hold on.”

Even as fear twisted in his chest, Minho forced himself to believe in the calm he was trying to project. He spoke with more confidence, hoping that the reassurance would reach her, and that it would somehow settle his own racing heart.

When Minho reached the hospital, the building seemed eerily quiet, almost deserted. Panic clung to him like a second skin as he rushed inside. Before he could make it to the emergency room, the paramedics arrived and took over. They moved quickly, whisking her through the double doors, their voices urgent but steady. Minho stood frozen at the entrance, unable to do more than hold her hand one last time. Giving it a soft squeeze, he whispered, “You’re going to be okay,” his voice trembling with determination, even as fear gnawed at him.

As the paramedics disappeared into the depths of the hospital with her, Minho finally released a shaky breath. His hands were still trembling, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he stared at the now-empty hallway. Moments later, the quiet was shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps and frantic voices. A group of people burst through the hospital doors, their faces etched with panic and fear.

“Y/N! Y/N, please wake up! You’re going to be okay! Just stay with us!” a young woman cried, her voice breaking as she rushed toward the direction the stretcher had gone. Her desperation was palpable, raw, and it hit Minho like a wave.

Minho, still standing at the door, desperate to be of any help, quickly picked up on her name. Y/N. It echoed in his mind, anchoring him in the chaos. “Y/N, hang in there,” he whispered softly, as if somehow his words could reach her through the walls.

Turning to the young woman, her sister, he realized.Minho tried to offer what little comfort he could. “I was there,” he said gently, his voice low but steady. “I saw the truck coming. It swerved out of nowhere. I… I got her out of the way just in time.” His voice faltered as the memory replayed in his mind. “But the impact… I’m so sorry.”

Her sister’s tears streamed freely as she listened, clinging to every word. She nodded, her voice trembling as she whispered, “You saved her. You saved my sister.”

When Y/N was finally wheeled into the operating theater, her sister turned to Minho, her face streaked with tears, her eyes glistening with gratitude and heartbreak. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re her guardian angel. I don’t even want to imagine what could’ve happened if you hadn’t been there.”

Minho nodded mutely, overwhelmed by the weight of her words. He couldn’t find the right response, couldn’t process the mix of emotions swirling inside him,the relief of knowing he’d done what he could, the fear of what might come next, and the raw ache of seeing a family on the verge of losing someone they loved.

As the night stretched on, Minho stood outside the hospital, his figure silhouetted against the dim glow of the streetlights. A strange mixture of hope and helplessness washed over him. Her name, Y/N, echoed in his mind, repeated like a lifeline, tethering him to the present moment

Even after the chaos subsided and he returned home...

-------------------------------------------------------

Minho's throat ran dry as he recalled the scene unfolding in front of him that day.Her face remained etched in his mind. He often wondered if she had fully recovered, if her life had returned to normal after the tragedy…

"Focus," Minho murmured to himself. The past was just that, the past. He couldn’t change it, and now, his craving for something sweet tugged at him. Even though he had tried to forget her, a persistent voice in his head urged him to seek out the café she once worked at. He never had the chance to taste her desserts after he’d accidentally dropped them to save her. The memory lingered, but he couldn’t quite shake the need to return to that place, to experience what he missed.

As he wandered through the winding backstreets, he found himself standing at the corner where the café had stood two years ago. But instead of the familiar cozy spot, there was only a pharmacy now. The café was gone,nothing more than a distant memory. His heart sank in disappointment, and he sighed, deciding to head home. The chill in the air was becoming sharper by the minute.

Taking a shortcut through a narrow alley, he walked into a quieter street, the contrast to the bustling lanes he had passed earlier striking. It was much calmer here, with the glow of a few lit shops casting soft, warm lights onto the pavement. As he neared the corner, a café sign caught his attention. The bold letters “Open” gleamed back at him, and curiosity bubbled inside him.

He approached and stepped inside, greeted by a rush of warmth. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and pastries filled the air, the soft hum of machinery a backdrop to the quiet atmosphere. A curious name adorned the café’s front: Twilight Robo Café. Minho raised an eyebrow. The name intrigued him.

The interior of the café was unlike any he had seen before. Robots, sleek and small, glided around with surprising grace. They served drinks, delivered snacks, and interacted with customers in a way that blurred the lines between technology and humanity. Their screens displayed animated avatars, mimicking emotions with perfect accuracy. It was futuristic, yet oddly comforting.

Minho chose a seat by the window, gazing out at the winter landscape as snowflakes began to fall, casting a soft veil over the world outside. He could feel the warmth of the café against the chill creeping into his bones. He exhaled, content for the moment.

Moments later, a small robot wheeled up to his table and stopped in front of him.

"Welcome to Twilight Robo Café!" the voice chirped brightly, warm and inviting. "What can I get for you today?"

Minho froze. There was something about the voice, something unnervingly familiar. His mind raced, but he couldn’t place where he had heard it before.

"Sir?" The robot’s voice broke his train of thought.

Minho blinked, shaking himself from his stupor. "Uh, I’ll take a pudding... and a black coffee, please."

“May I know whose name it’s going for?” the robot voice asked.

“Minho,” he replied.

“A pudding and a black coffee for Minho, coming right up!” The screen flashed a wide smile before the robot zipped away.

Minho stared at the empty space where the robot had been, confusion clouding his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the voice belonged to someone he knew, or at least someone he had once met.

Minutes passed, and soon enough, the robot returned, carefully placing his coffee and pudding on the table. "There you go! Anything else I can do for you?" it asked, the screen flashing another bright, animated grin.

Minho leaned forward slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Um, this might sound strange, but your voice... do you choose it yourself?”

The robot's head tilted in a quizzical way, that made it seem almost human. Behind the screen, you were controlling it, your fingers hesitating on the joystick as your heart skipped a beat. There he was, he was here. The man who had rushed to your aid that night, the one you had tried to forget, yet never could. The same man who had been by your side when everything had fallen apart. You hadn’t expected to see him again, let alone hear his voice now.

Sitting in your dimly lit apartment, you blinked twice, your eyes wide in disbelief. Was this really happening? It couldn’t be him... but it was. The man from that day. The one you had barely spoken to but had thought about constantly since then. How was it possible that he remembered your voice? That day, your words had been barely audible, lost in the chaos of the accident. Your voice had been raw and broken. You had been a mess…scattered emotions and fear. And after everything, after your accident, your life had changed so drastically.

You had become a shadow of the person you once were, paralyzed from the waist down, the scars marking your body and face a constant reminder of everything you had lost. The woman you once were, vibrant, full of life, running the café you owned, with ease and a warm smile, was no longer. Now, you hid behind the screen of a robot, controlling its every movement, its every expression from the confines of your small apartment. It was the only way you could still interact with the world, without the fear of frightening people with your appearance. The very face that had once greeted customers with warmth now carried the weight of painful memories, and you couldn't bear to see the looks of pity or fear in the eyes of those who might recognize you. So, you stayed behind the safety of the screen, crafting your persona through the robotic avatar, a small semblance of the woman you used to be, but never fully seen.

But there he was, still as handsome as you remembered. His smile hadn’t changed, and it made your heart ache. You hadn’t expected him to recognize your voice, yet here he was, doing just that.

Minho knocked gently on the screen, as though checking if the robot was malfunctioning. The action snapped you back to the present, your palms suddenly clammy. You quickly moved the controls, realizing you’d left the robot on idle for too long.

"I certainly do," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, keeping your voice light. "It just... your voice sounds oddly familiar. Like I’ve heard it before."

Minho’s brows furrowed as he tried to place the voice. "Maybe I just have one of those voices," you deflected, not wanting to reveal too much.

"Maybe?" Minho murmured, taking a sip of his coffee and watching the world outside with a contemplative look on his face.

For the next several minutes, Minho continued asking questions, trying to get to know the person behind the robot. Each answer you gave was carefully measured, trying your best to keep your emotions in check. You couldn’t risk revealing your identity, not yet.

"So," Minho asked, setting his coffee down and leaning forward, "how does this work? Are you controlling it remotely?"

"Yes," you replied, trying to keep your tone even. "I control it from home. Everything you see, the movements, the voice, the expressions, it’s all me, just through a robot."

"That’s amazing," Minho said, his lips curling into an impressed smile. "Does it feel weird... interacting with customers like this?"

"Not really," you answered. "At first, it was awkward. But after a while, you get used to it. And maybe it’s a nice way to interact with people in ways I couldn’t before."

Minho nodded, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table. "Do customers ever forget there’s a person behind the robot?"

You laughed softly, a genuine chuckle that escaped without you meaning to.

"Of course! You’d be surprised how many people forget and just say things like, ‘This robot has great customer service.’ Like it’s some kind of AI program," you giggled. "It’s fun, though."

"Yeah, seems like you enjoy your workplace," Minho replied with a grin, taking a bite of the pudding. His eyes lit up as the sweetness of the caramel and the creamy texture hit him. It was the perfect balance of flavors, nothing too overwhelming. He closed his eyes for a moment in pure satisfaction. Behind the screen, you couldn’t help but smile, warmed by his enjoyment.

"Miss, may I know who made this?" he asked eagerly.

You smiled, pride swelling in your chest. "It’s my family’s recipe. I just control the robot to make it perfect here. After a couple of trial and errors, we finally got it just right."

"It’s delicious!" Minho exclaimed, his smile widening.

"Thank you," you said, pleased to see him enjoying it.

The conversation continued to flow naturally, the lighthearted exchanges easing some of the tension you’d felt earlier. But then Minho asked a question that made your heart stutter.

"Did your family own a café?"

Your breath caught in your throat. You had almost said too much. You froze, but then tried to cover up the slip.

"Yes... they did, but I did, too. It was just around the... " You stopped yourself mid-sentence. The words you almost let out were too dangerous.

Minho looked at you, confused. You quickly recovered, the warmth on your face barely hiding the panic you felt. "I mean, yes, it was a family recipe turned into a business... but not anymore," you added awkwardly, forcing a smile.

Minho nodded, his attention returning to the pudding. "That explains the taste."

Minho leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on the robot, as though he were studying it for answers. "So, do you get a lot of people like me? The ones who ask too many questions?"

You laughed more genuinely this time, the sound like music in the quiet café. "You’d be surprised. So many of them treat me like a therapist, venting about their day and asking for advice. Others just make small talk about the weather."

Minho chuckled at one of your stories, the conversation feeling more relaxed. It almost felt like you could breathe again.

But then he asked something that made your heart race once more.

"Do you think we’ve met before? I can’t help but think your voice reminds me of someone."

Your heart skipped a beat. You froze, not sure how to respond.

"Maybe I just have one of those voices?" you said, your voice light and carefully measured.

"Maybe?" Minho replied, though his tone carried a hint of doubt. "But I can't shake the feeling that that's not it... The way you talk, it's just too personal."

Minho tilted his head slightly, studying the robot as though the answer might be hidden there, etched into its smooth surface.

Your grip on the controls tightened, and your pulse raced in your ears. A wave of heat flushed over you, making it feel like you were trapped in a sauna. Every part of you screamed to deny it all, to retreat, but your heart, oh, your heart, yearned for him to remember you.

"Well," you said, forcing a light smile, "It's a small world. Maybe we've crossed paths before?"

Minho’s gaze narrowed, his expression thoughtful. "You think so? Tokyo's a big city. Anything's possible."

Your voice softened as you responded, "Maybe."

Minho’s next question caught you completely off guard. "Do you ever wish you could meet the person you're talking to? In person, I mean?"

You hesitated, fingers trembling slightly as you processed his words. "Sometimes," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "But it's complicated."

Minho didn’t interrupt. He just kept looking at you with that same, unwavering curiosity, as though he could see beyond the surface, searching for the truth that you had buried deep within.

"I believe it's easier for people to connect when they don’t see the messier parts of someone's life," you said quietly. "The robots, they make things simple. No judgment. No awkwardness. And I'd like to keep it that way."

Minho frowned. "That's not fair, though. Everyone has a messy past. That's what makes us human."

You were left at a loss for words once again. How could he say such things so easily? The very reason you applied for this job was to avoid letting anyone see who you really were. They couldn’t see you like this, not when you were too broke to even afford to hide the scars on your face. Not when going outside felt more like a monumental task. It was exhausting, living without the use of your legs.

A tear slipped down your cheek, but you wiped it away quickly. You had no answer for him. The silence between you felt deafening.

"It’s just..." you finally managed to croak, "Not everyone thinks like you."

Minho tilted his head, his gaze thoughtful. "Maybe they should..."

He smiled gently. "I’d like to meet the wonderful lady behind this voice as well."

-------------------------------------------------------

It was almost 10 p.m., closing time for the café. Minho was disappointed when another robot politely told him it was time to leave. The robot he'd spent so much time talking to was now busy attending to another customer. Maybe it was his questions. Maybe he had overstepped or overwhelmed her.

She had excused herself to tend to others, and Minho was left standing there, contemplating the conversation. As the clock ticked closer to 10, a thought struck him,one that seemed silly but lingered in his mind. He wasn’t sure if anything would come of it, but he wanted to know more. It had felt nice talking to her.

Before he left, he handed the next robot worker a note addressed to the wonderful robo Missy.

‘It was nice talking to you. I’m really sorry if I overstepped. Call or text me if you ever need to vent.”

-------------------------------------------------------

"It was nice talking to you. I'm really sorry if I overstepped. Call or text me if you ever need someone to talk to or vent."

You stared at the note for what seemed like an eternity, the words dancing in front of your eyes but never quite sinking in. Weeks had passed since your last encounter with Minho, yet you couldn’t stop replaying that moment over and over. He had wanted to meet you, to know you, but you had been frozen in place, unable to say a word. You had scrambled for an exit, seizing the first opportunity; A last-minute customer ordering takeout. You had apologized to him, your voice a strained whisper, as you quickly steered your robot towards the new customer. You avoided his gaze, his eyes, still burning into your back, full of something you couldn’t quite read.

And now, you were holding this in your hand, a simple note with his number scrawled across the bottom, an apology for something Minho didn’t even know he had done. He had respected your boundaries, your silence, even when everything in you had screamed for him to see you, to understand you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to speak up, to make it clear that you were not just the voice behind the screen.

Yesterday had been one of those days, the kind that chipped away at you slowly, piece by piece, until you were left wondering how much more you could take. The café was bustling as usual, but the warmth that typically filled the air had been replaced with an unsettling, tense energy.

A group of rude customers had strolled in, their voices cutting through the usual hum of the café like a razor. At first, it was subtle. They made snide remarks about the novelty of the robot café, their laughter sharp and mocking. But soon, their jabs became more pointed, their words carrying an edge that sliced deeper than you wanted to admit.

One of them leaned in close to your screen, his sneer almost palpable. "Oh, how lucky you are to be working from home," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as if your reality were some kind of twisted privilege.

Another chimed in, her tone laced with venom. "Really? Don’t you think you’re being ungrateful? Life handed you a golden opportunity, and you’re complaining?"

Their words stung far more than they should have. Because they didn’t see you. Not truly. They didn’t know the reality behind the screen. The daily battles you fought, the pain of waking up in a body that no longer obeyed your will. They didn’t know how exhausting it was to perform even the smallest tasks, how something as simple as getting dressed could feel like scaling a mountain. They didn’t know the humiliation of needing help for the most basic functions, or the way the world seemed so much larger, harsher, and more inaccessible now.

They didn’t know about your sister, your fiercely loyal, stubborn sister, who had taken on the role of caregiver without hesitation, even when you begged her not to. You had pleaded with her to chase her dreams, to live her life without the shadow of your limitations hanging over her. But she refused. And every time you saw her push her own happiness aside for your sake, guilt gnawed at you, sharp and unrelenting.

Life before the accident felt like another lifetime, a fleeting memory of who you used to be. Back when you were independent, whole, and full of possibilities. That person felt like a stranger now, someone you’d never quite find your way back to. And days like today only widened the chasm between who you were and who you had become.

Their cruel words echoed long after they had left, bouncing around in your head like a relentless reminder of everything you had lost. You had kept your voice steady, your responses professional, but inside, you were crumbling. The mask you wore was cracking, and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold it together.

Later that night, as the silence of your apartment pressed down on you, your eyes landed on the letter Minho had left at the café. His handwriting was neat and careful, but the words… they were like a lifeline thrown to you in the middle of a storm. An invitation, a chance to connect, to be seen. You had read it over and over, the lines blurring as doubt crept in.

What if he didn’t mean it? What if he had only written it out of politeness or guilt? The idea clawed at you, feeding the insecurities that always lingered just below the surface. But another thought followed, quieter and far more dangerous. What if he truly meant it? What if he actually wanted to know you, not out of pity, but because he cared? Because he saw something in you worth knowing?

That thought scared you more than anything. Because you weren’t the same person he had saved two years ago. That version of you had been whole, bright, and full of potential. Now, you were a patchwork of scars and insecurities, trying desperately to hold yourself together. Would he even recognize you? Would he still care if he knew how much you had changed?

You stared at the letter for what felt like hours, caught between fear and hope. The weight of the day pressed heavily on your chest, and the idea of reaching out felt impossibly daunting. But something in Minho’s words lingered, a warmth, a sincerity that made you want to believe, even just for a moment, that someone might see you for who you were now, not who you used to be.

Finally, you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room,

"What if?”

You wiped a tear from your cheek, your hand trembling as you stared at the number Minho had written at the bottom of the page. It had been days of battling conflicting thoughts, of wondering whether you should even try to reach out.

Part of you wanted to hear his voice again, to feel that connection, but another part of you warned against it. What if you burdened him with your pain? What if he thought you were just being dramatic, that you were too much to handle?

The weight of yesterday pressed down on you, suffocating and relentless. Every word, every sneer from the café replayed in your mind like a broken record. Tonight, the walls of your apartment felt closer than ever, the silence too loud to bear.

With trembling fingers, you found yourself reaching for your phone. You hadn’t planned this, hadn’t even allowed yourself to consider it. But now, your hand moved as if it had a will of its own. You scrolled through your contacts until you found his name. For a moment, your thumb hovered over the call button, doubt creeping in. What if this was a mistake? But before you could overthink it, you pressed down, the ringing filling the void.

It felt endless. Each tone seemed to stretch on for an eternity, echoing in your ears and amplifying the pounding of your heart. With every ring, a fresh wave of nerves rolled over you, making you question what you’d even say if he picked up.

And then…voicemail.

A deep sigh escaped your lips, a mix of disappointment and relief. The automated message played, his voice absent, replaced by a mechanical tone inviting you to leave a message. You hesitated, the silence on the other end daring you to speak. But the words you wanted to say felt caught in your throat, tangled with fear and uncertainty

"Of course," you whispered to yourself. "He’s probably busy. Why would he want to hear from me?"

You set the phone down, shaking your head at your foolishness. He had saved your life that day, yes, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear about the mess your life had become. Slowly, you changed into your pajamas, ready to crawl into bed and let the darkness of sleep take over.

Just as you settled beneath the covers, your phone buzzed in your hand. The soft vibration startled you, and when you glanced at the screen, your heart skipped a beat. Minho. His name, glowing in the dim light of your room, sent a wave of panic and excitement through you.

For a moment, you froze, staring at the screen as if it might disappear. Should you answer? Could you? What if he didn’t remember you? What if this was just a courtesy call, and he’d forgotten everything? Doubts swirled in your mind, threatening to paralyze you. But before you could overthink any further, your fingers moved on their own, and you pressed the green button.

“H-Hello?” you stammered, your voice shaky with nerves.

There was a pause on the other end, one that felt like an eternity, before a familiar voice filled the line. “Who is this?”

The breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. “I… I’m the robot voice you talked to the other day,” you finally managed to say.

“Oh, yes, Robo Café Missy!” he said with a soft chuckle, the warmth in his tone instantly melting some of your anxiety. “You really rushed off that day. I barely got a chance to say goodbye.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “My manager was giving me this concerned look for talking to a customer so long.”

“Sorry about that,” Minho said, a note of humor in his voice. “Didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

“It’s alright,” you said quickly, your nerves easing slightly. “I just… I got your letter, and I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, but I was having a bad day, and… I thought I’d call. I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

His tone softened immediately. “You’re not bothering me, Robo Missy,” he said gently. “But before we dive into your day, how about we properly introduce ourselves?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. Sharing more of yourself felt terrifying, like peeling back a layer of armor you’d grown so used to. But there was something about Minho’s voice, its warmth, its sincerity,that made you want to take the leap.

“I’m… Y/N L/N,” you whispered, barely audible.

There was a brief silence on the other end, as if he was processing the name. Then, he let out a soft laugh, tinged with disbelief. “Y/N? That’s a crazy coincidence. Someone I used to know had the same name as you.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the phone.

This was it

“Minho… it’s not a coincidence.”

The silence that followed was heavier this time, charged with anticipation. You could almost feel the shock on the other end of the line.

“I… I’m Y/N,” you said, your voice trembling. “It’s me.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by a stunned, “Wait… what? Y/N? That Y/N?”

“Yes,” you confirmed with a hesitant laugh. “That’s me.”

The line went quiet for a beat, and then Minho exclaimed, “Oh my God, Y/N! It’s you! I can’t believe this!”

You chuckled nervously, the sound more of a release of tension than amusement. “Yeah, it’s me. Thank you for saving me that day, Minho. I never got the chance to properly thank you.”

“I’m just relieved you’re alright,” he said earnestly. “You made a full recovery, right? Everything’s fine now?”

Your smile faltered, and you took a shaky breath. “Umm… about that…”

Minho’s voice softened instantly, his concern palpable. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. But then, with a deep breath, you began telling him everything. You told him about the accident, the surgeries, the endless therapy, and the long, grueling days of learning to live in a body that no longer worked the way it once did. You told him about the guilt you felt watching your sister sacrifice so much to help you, about the nights spent crying in frustration and pain, and about the fear that you’d never be seen as anything but broken.

Through it all, Minho listened silently, not once interrupting. His quiet attention was steady, grounding, as though every word you said mattered deeply to him.

When you finally finished, your voice cracked, tears threatening to spill. “I… I didn’t want to tell you all this. I didn’t want to bother you or make you feel sorry for me. But today was just….”

“Y/N,” Minho cut in, his voice firm yet impossibly gentle. “You’re not bothering me. And I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m just… I’m glad you called. I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from sadness. They were from something warmer, something that felt a lot like hope.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

“No, thank you,” Minho said softly. “For calling me. And for being honest. You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”

You smiled faintly, clutching the phone tightly to your ear. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to.

And thus began your connection with Minho...

----------------------------------------------------

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Your fingers hovered over the video call button, trembling slightly. Since that phone call last Christmas eve, Minho had become an undeniable presence in your life. Whether it was his casual phone calls, random texts checking in on you, or the silly messages that always made you laugh, he was there, ensuring you never felt completely alone.

But last week, something changed.

“Why don’t we have a movie night?” he had texted casually. “We can video call while watching.”

You froze at the suggestion, your immediate response a firm, resounding no.

"Come on,” he coaxed gently. “It’ll be fun. I want to see you.”

And that was the problem. You didn’t want him to see you.

The thought of showing your face made your stomach churn. What if he was disappointed? What if he looked at you differently after seeing what the accident had done? You tried every excuse you could think of, but Minho’s quiet persistence was hard to ignore.

“I won’t push you,” he finally said, his tone soft yet resolute. “But I don’t care what you think you look like. You’re Y/N, and nothing will ever change that for me.”

His words lingered all week, pulling at the corners of your mind whenever your insecurities screamed louder than your hope.

And now, here you were, sitting in front of your phone, staring at the glowing call notification. Your heart raced, your palms damp as you adjusted your hair for the fifth time. Every buried doubt clawed its way to the surface.

Don’t do this. He’ll regret staying in touch, your mind hissed.

But another voice, softer yet stronger, whispered, He cares. He won’t leave.

With a shaky breath, you pressed the button. The camera flickered on, and you quickly angled it so only the top of your head was visible.

“Y/N?” Minho’s voice came through, soft and cheerful.

“Y-Yeah, it’s me,” you stammered, still too afraid to tilt the camera lower.

“I can’t see you,” he teased lightly. “What, are you hiding from me?”

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the "end call" button. But something in his tone....so patient, so warm...nudged you forward. Slowly, you lowered the camera, revealing your face.

“There you are,” Minho said softly, a smile spreading across his face.

You braced yourself for disgust, disappointment, anything that would confirm your worst fears. But his reaction wasn’t what you expected. His expression didn’t falter, his smile didn’t waver, and his eyes held nothing but warmth.

“You look beautiful,” he said simply, as if it were a fact, not a compliment.

Tears stung your eyes as you looked away. “Don’t say that,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I mean it,” he replied firmly. “I’m not just saying it to make you feel better. You’re Y/N, and you’re beautiful to me. Always have been, always will be.”

His words chipped away at the walls you had built around yourself. He wasn’t looking at you with pity or discomfort, he was just looking at you.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself a small smile. “Thank you, Minho,” you murmured.

“Now,” he said, his tone shifting to playful. “Are we watching this movie, or are you going to keep hiding from me?”

You chuckled softly, wiping a tear from your cheek. “Alright, alright. Let’s watch.”

As the movie began, the tension in your chest slowly eased. Minho’s occasional sarcastic comments or soft laughter warmed you in ways you didn’t fully understand. The awkwardness that had gripped you at the start of the call melted away, replaced by a rhythm that felt natural.

During a quieter part of the movie, Minho spoke, his voice cutting through the momentary silence. “This feels nice.”

“What does?” you asked, glancing at the screen.

“Being able to see you while we talk. It feels... more real.”

His honesty caught you off guard, and you fiddled with the edge of your blanket. “I guess,” you mumbled.

“Don’t downplay it,” he chided gently. “You don’t realize how much I’ve missed this, just spending time with you.”

Your heart thudded at his words. “Minho, you barely knew me before the accident…”

“And yet,” he interrupted, his tone soft but unwavering, “I’ve always felt like I knew you. The way you smiled at the hospital, even through the pain. The way your sister shared pieces of your life with me that day, the struggles you faced, in the hospital. You left an impression, Y/N. And no matter how much time passed, I couldn’t forget you.”

His confession left you speechless. You opened your mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words.

Minho smiled faintly. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

The movie ended, but neither of you hung up. The conversation drifted to lighter topics, your favorite foods, places you’d love to visit, funny childhood stories. You found yourself laughing, surprised at how easy it was to talk to him, how intently he listened to every little thing you said.

When the clock struck midnight, you yawned, trying to stifle it.

“Am I keeping you up?” Minho teased.

“No, I’m fine,” you lied, but your sleepy tone betrayed you.

“You need to rest,” he said with a soft laugh. “But… can I call you again tomorrow? Or, you know, whenever you’re free?”

The warmth in his voice made your chest ache in the best way. “I’d like that,” you admitted quietly.

“Good,” he said, his smile evident even through the screen. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Minho,” you replied, ending the call and setting your phone aside.

As you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the events of the night replayed in your mind. For the first time in years, you felt a little lighter. A little less alone.

You didn’t know where this connection with Minho would lead, but tonight, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he saw you, not just your struggles, but you.

And for the first time, that felt like enough.

-------------------------------------------------------

Over the next few months, Minho became your lifeline. What started as casual conversations and video calls grew into something deeper. He was patient, funny, and warm,someone who made you feel seen, heard, and cherished. For the first time in years, you felt like you could breathe again. It wasn’t something you could pinpoint, a singular moment where your feelings for Minho shifted from gratitude to something deeper. It happened slowly, quietly, like the way the first hints of dawn creep into the night sky.

At first, you told yourself it was nothing more than admiration. Minho had saved your life, after all. When you woke up in the hospital, groggy and disoriented, the nurses told you about the stranger who stayed by your side, ensuring you received the care you needed. That alone had been enough to etch his name into your mind.

Months later, when you heard his voice again at the robot café, your heart stumbled. It was almost embarrassing how much his presence, even through the robot’s camera and speakers, stirred something inside you. He spoke to you with such warmth, such genuine interest, that it felt like you were more than just a disembodied voice behind a screen.

But it wasn’t until the letter he left for you that the walls you’d so carefully built around your heart began to crack.

You read it so many times that the edges were worn from your fingertips. His words weren’t overly flowery or poetic, but they were sincere, making you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt in years. He didn’t just write about how thankful he was bout the customer service, he wrote about you. That you can call or text him anytime you wanted to vent.

From that point on, every phone call, every text, chipped away at the fears you’d held so tightly. At first, you were careful, guarded. You kept your responses light, your conversations surface-level. But Minho had a way of disarming you without even trying. He’d slip in questions about your favorite childhood memories or tease you until you laughed. And before you realized it, you were sharing pieces of yourself you hadn’t shown anyone in years.

And then came the video call.

You almost didn’t do it. The idea of letting him see your face, the scars that made you feel like a stranger every time you looked in the mirror, was too much. But Minho had been gentle in his persistence, assuring you that he just wanted to watch a movie with you, nothing more.

When you finally turned on the camera, your hands were trembling, and you could barely meet his eyes on the screen. You braced yourself for the shift, for the flicker of discomfort or pity that you were so used to seeing.

But it never came.

Instead, Minho smiled, his gaze soft as if he were looking at something beautiful. “Hi,” he said, his tone light and full of warmth, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

And in that moment, something inside you shifted. The fear that had kept you isolated for so long began to loosen its grip, replaced by something warmer, brighter.

He made you feel normal. He made you feel seen. And over time, you realized it wasn’t just gratitude or admiration anymore.

You were falling for him.

You tried to fight it at first, convincing yourself it was foolish. Someone like Minho...a man who could light up a room with just his presence....could have anyone. Why would he choose someone like you, with your scars and limitations?

But then he’d call you late at night, just to ask how your day went. Or he’d send you pictures of stray cats he’d found, knowing how much you loved them, just like he did. Or he’d make you laugh so hard you’d forget, even for a moment, about all the things you thought made you unworthy.

And then, over the course of the next few weeks, something unexpected started to take root inside you. At first, you brushed it off as fleeting, an echo of loneliness mistaken for something else. But it grew, steady and undeniable, a strange, fluttering feeling in your chest every time Minho’s name lit up your phone.

You found yourself lingering on his texts longer than you should, re-reading them late at night when the world was silent. His words, simple and casual, had a way of making your heart race. And those calls? They were becoming the best part of your day. It wasn’t just his voice....it was the way he laughed, the way he said your name, like it held a special place in his vocabulary.

He looked different to you now, too. Or maybe you were just seeing him for the first time. Handsome didn’t even begin to describe it. There was something magnetic about the way he carried himself, a quiet confidence that made him seem untouchable, yet he was so real with you. So patient, so kind.

And that’s when the panic set in.

Because how could you fall for him?

It wasn’t fair. Not to him. Minho was everything you weren’t: free, whole, untethered. He could have anyone he wanted, someone who could walk beside him in the park without needing a wheelchair, someone who could dance with him instead of watching from the sidelines.

You hadn’t left the house in years. The thought of facing the world outside, with its prying eyes and unspoken judgments, made your stomach churn. How could you expect someone like Minho to accept that? To accept you, when even you struggled to accept yourself?

Your scars felt like barriers, visible proof of the life you used to have and the one you were forced to live now. You’d lost the power in your legs, and sometimes it felt like you’d lost the power to dream, to hope for something better.

And yet, Minho made you hope.

It terrified you, this fragile thing blooming in your chest. Because if you allowed yourself to fall for him, truly fall, what would happen if he didn’t catch you? Could you handle the heartbreak? Could you bear to see pity in his eyes where kindness now shone?

You tried to push the feelings down, bury them beneath the weight of your fears. But they wouldn’t stay hidden. Every text, every call, every laugh chipped away at your resolve until you were left raw and vulnerable, clinging to a question you were too afraid to answer. Will Minho even accept you?

------------------------------------------------------

-------------------------------------------------------

That evening during the video call, Minho dropped a bombshell.

“Y/N, let’s meet,” he said casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You froze, blinking at the screen. “What?”

“I want to see you,” he repeated, smiling. “In person. How about a café date and a stroll in the park? I know a quiet spot, not too crowded.”

Panic surged through you. You hadn’t left your house in years....not since the accident. The thought of people staring at you, noticing your scars, filled you with dread. You opened your mouth to protest, but Minho’s gentle expression stopped you.

“Take your time,” he said softly. “You don’t have to decide now. But I’d really like to spend time with you, Y/N. No pressure.”

Minho ended the call with a hopeful smile on his end when you told him you'd think about it.

For the next few days, you agonized over his request. Part of you wanted to see him, to feel the sun on your face and experience the world outside your walls again. But the fear of judgment and rejection was overwhelming. Finally, with a shaky breath, you agreed.

------------------------------------------------------

Minho had never been the type to hesitate when it came to the people he cared about. But with Y/N, everything felt different....delicate, like holding something precious in his hands that could shatter if he pushed too hard. The past month of video calls and late-night texts had been like a breath of fresh air for him. He loved how she spoke, how her voice softened when she was relaxed or brightened when she talked about something that brought her joy. But he could also sense the walls she’d built around herself, her hesitations woven into every interaction. It didn’t matter to him, though. He’d seen enough in her to know she was worth the patience. The idea to meet her in person had been bubbling in his mind for weeks. He missed being able to see her face beyond the tiny camera frame, to hear her laugh without the digital lag of a call. And more than anything, he wanted her to know she didn’t have to hide anymore...not from him, not from anyone.

When she’d finally agreed, he’d been careful not to show just how thrilled he was. He knew it wasn’t an easy decision for her, and he didn’t want to add to the weight she was carrying. Instead, he spent the days leading up to their meeting planning every detail, choosing a quiet café and a serene park where she wouldn’t feel overwhelmed.

The day of the date, he arrived early, checking his reflection in the café window to make sure he looked okay. Not that it mattered much to him, he just wanted Y/N to feel comfortable.

---------------------------------------------------

Whereas you, on the other hand, were on a completely different wavelength altogether.

The days leading up to this moment had been an emotional tug-of-war within yourself. A part of you longed to experience something new, something outside the prison of your four walls. But the other part...the one that whispered cruel reminders of your scars, your limitations, and the judgment of others...fought to hold you back.

The night before the date, you barely slept. You paced your room, questioning everything. Why would Minho even want to be seen with me? He’s kind, patient, and could easily find someone who isn’t a mess like me. What if people stare? What if I embarrass him?

You looked at yourself in the mirror that morning, pulling your favourite hoodie over your head and adjusting it. The scars that stretched across your temple and cheekbone felt like they screamed at the world, a constant reminder of the accident and how different you were now. You sighed deeply, pushing down the lump in your throat. You can’t back out now. He’ll think you don’t trust him.

When your sister wheeled you to the café and you saw Minho waiting, his face lighting up the second he spotted you, something in your chest softened. You weren’t used to people looking at you like that...as if you weren’t just enough, but more than enough.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice full of warmth, “you look beautiful.”

Beautiful? The word echoed in your mind, foreign and almost laughable. You glanced away, unable to accept the compliment, but his sincerity made it impossible to dismiss.

The café was quiet, the conversation light and easy. Yet, no matter how much you tried to relax, the anxiety simmered under your skin. Every time someone walked by or glanced your way, your fingers twitched, wanting to pull your hood further down. They’re staring. They’re judging. They’re wondering why someone like him would bother with someone like me. Minho noticed the anxiety in your face. He squeezed your trembling hand, comforting you. Nodding silently, as if to tell you it’s okay.

You calmed down a little and asked him if you could leave early. He agreed and suggested a walk in the park. You hesitated but eventually agreed. The park was peaceful, the fresh air soothing, but the nagging voice in your head wouldn’t let you rest. You kept your hood pulled tight, your eyes darting to every person who passed. They’re all looking. They can see right through me.

And then, it happened.

A strong gust of wind swept through the park, catching your hood and pulling it back. You gasped, immediately reaching to fix it, but your trembling hands froze as you noticed the stares. Strangers’ eyes lingered, their expressions unreadable, but in your mind, you could hear their judgment loud and clear.

Hide. Cover your face. Run. You don’t belong here.

Your breathing quickened, panic rising in your chest. Your vision blurred as tears welled up, and you wanted nothing more than to disappear.

“I....I can’t do this,” you choked out, barely able to form the words.

Before you could spiral further, Minho was by your side. His hands rested gently on your shoulders, grounding you.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the noise in your head. “Look at me.”

You hesitated, but his calm, steady presence drew your eyes to his. The world seemed to fade, leaving only his warm gaze and the reassurance in his expression.

“You’re okay,” he said, his voice firm yet soothing. “I’m here. Forget about them. Just focus on me.”

“But they’re staring,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks. “They’re looking at my face… at my scars…”

“Let them stare,” Minho said firmly, his hands squeezing your shoulders gently. “What they think doesn’t matter. What matters is you. And you’re perfect just the way you are.”

His words pierced through the storm in your mind, and for a moment, you could breathe again. He guided you to a nearby bench, sitting beside you and giving you time to calm down.

As your breathing steadied, Minho knelt in front of you, his gaze unwavering.

“Y/N,” he began, taking your hands in his. His touch was warm, steady, and grounding. “I know this is hard for you. I know you’re scared, and I know you think you’re not enough. But you need to hear this.”

His eyes searched yours, filled with an unshakable sincerity that made your chest tighten.

“It’s always been you,” he said softly. “From the moment I met you, I knew you were someone special.”

“Min, what are you...?” you began, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

“Let me finish, Ynnie,” he interrupted, a small smile tugging at his lips. The tenderness in his tone silenced your protest, and your breath hitched as he continued, his voice heavy with emotion.

“Your strength, your kindness, your heart....those are the things that matter to me. Not your scars, not your disability. Just you. And I still can’t believe it… how someone so intelligent, so beautiful, and so powerful came into my life. I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

He paused, his grip on your hands tightening just slightly as if grounding himself.

“You brought color to my mundane life, Ynnie,” he said, his voice trembling now. “And I love you. I love you so much.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as his words settled into your heart, breaking through every wall you had built. But once again, a part of you wanted to retreat from this. Minho deserved someone better. Not you.

And so, with a heavy heart, you asked, “Why me?” Your voice barely above a whisper. “You could have someone better. Someone who isn’t… disabled or disfigured. Someone who could give you more.”

His grip on your hands tightened as he shook his head. “No one could ever be better than you. No one else is you. And I don’t want anyone else. I want you. Scars, fears, everything. You’ve been through so much, and you’re still here. That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You were at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice and the love in his eyes.

“So, Y/N,” he said, his voice softening, “will you let me stay by your side? Will you be my girlfriend?”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the insecurities tried to creep back in. But then you looked at him...truly looked...and saw nothing but love and acceptance.

With a shaky breath, you nodded. “Yes.”

“I love you too, Min!”

“So much!” Happy tears spilled down your cheeks.

A bright, almost boyish smile spread across his face as he leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with affection. He kissed you softly, a tender, lingering touch that made your heart flutter. The moment was quiet, but it felt like the world had paused, leaving only the two of you in this space of peace and understanding. As he pulled you into a gentle hug, his arms wrapped around you, warm and steady...like a shield that protected you from everything outside of this moment.

For the first time in years, you let go of the fears and doubts that had held you captive. You allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were worthy of love. His embrace was a reminder that you didn’t have to hide or be afraid anymore. In Minho’s arms, the weight of the world seemed to lift, leaving only the soft warmth of his love surrounding you, filling you with hope that, no matter what, you were never alone again.

As he held you, you realized that this moment was everything you had been longing for. It wasn’t just the comfort of his touch, but the genuine care in his heart, the way he made you feel beautiful...scars and all. It was a love that didn’t ask for perfection, only for you to be yourself. And in that truth, you found the strength to believe in the future, to believe in the love that was growing between you.

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꥟˚｡ENDNOTE - Everything Here is a work of fiction and my own imagination. This does not represent the real life characteristics of Stray Kids. Make sure to like, reblog comment, and follow me for new updates!

[brainrotbabe24]

Ways Thorin’s company will remember you while they are on an adventure!

Balin: In the art books, it said Balin has a lectern he would write on while traveling. So in keeping with that idea, I would say his quill pens would remind him of you. I imagine he has a busy life and tends to forget about the little things. So when he is on a journey, he will curse himself for forgetting quill pens. But lo and behold in his bag would be a new set. He would chuckle to himself knowing that you always looked out for him. 

Dwalin: Dwalin seems like the type of guy who would get a tattoo for you. Not your face or a heart saying “I love y/n” but something small and sentimental. For example, if you were into gardening or the outdoors, he would have a tree sapling on his leg. If you were into baking, he would have a bread knife on his forearm. If you were a singer, he would get lyrics across his chest. Each night he would take some time to look at the tattoo, and images of you would flutter in his mind. 

Óin: You know his skills of healing are important on any adventure. So in the months leading up to it, you see him gathering herbs and other medicinal supplies to bring. To help him out, you would’ve bought a pouch to hold his supplies in. Oin loves it and regularly puts his most precious herbs in there. He doesn’t let anyone touch it and makes sure it’s secure to his body at all times. Oin loves feeling the material and will unconsciously run his fingers over it when thinking about you. 

Glóin: Isn’t it obvious he will have a picture of you in his pocket lol. He can’t stand not seeing your lovely face while on the road and basically demanded a portrait of you made. He made sure on the day of the portrait he adorned you with the most beautiful jewelry, beads, and braids. You loved it! So when he looks at the picture, he sees all his work/love was being worn proudly by you. He likes having your face be the last thing he sees at night and the first thing he sees in the morning. 

Bifur: Such a sweetie! He would’ve kept a wooden toy you tried to carve… and failed at. Back before he left, you would’ve tried making a toy. You had seen him do it a hundred times, so you didn’t think it would be that hard. A little surprise for him would be perfect. Welp, you messed it up and got so frustrated you threw it out. He found it of course and kept it. He carries it everywhere and takes it out when there is free time. He would never tell you he kept it, knowing you would be embarrassed but loves you for trying his craft. He is beyond proud! 

Bofur: Bofur knows you long for adventure and would feel bad when he couldn’t take you on trips. So to help you “see” the world, he makes sure to learn a song from the area. You guys have a tradition: he leaves, learns a song, comes home, and sings to you. I imagine when he is out in the wild he will keep the song stuck in his head thinking of your reaction to it. 

Bombur: Oh, you spoil him!!! Once you heard he was going on a journey, you would instantly go out and buy him new cooking utensils. He would cherish it, though. He would delicately bring them out every evening and refuse to let anyone else touch them. He would clean the utensils until he could see his reflection thinking of you all the while!

Ori: Before he leaves on a journey, He will set up a knitting date with you. You will both make each other socks, a hat, a scarf—whatever comes to mind! Before you give each other the gift, you make sure that your initials are sewn into them. In times when he is uncertain of his journey, he will look to your initials and think of you. 

Dori: I would imagine since he prides himself on appearance he would have jewelry, and one ring (lol) would stick out to him. You can find him fidgeting with it and even staring at it for long times. It was your present to him, and even if he is covered in mud and his appearance is less than perfect, he will make sure to clean his hand/that finger with the ring first.

Nori: He stole something of yours, but you have to guess. It’s less about the object and more of the joke/tradition that reminds him of you. He will look at whatever trinket he stole and think about you looking all over the house for it. He will chuckle at the thought and will smile, knowing that once he returns and shows you the missing object, you both will giggle. 

Thorin: In the book, Thorin had a harp. I feel the rough and tumble adventure would occasionally get the strings to snap. So when he sees a neat bundle of wire in his bag, he would be thinking of you. His face would get red and a small smile would appear on his face. He loves knowing you think of him! I guarantee when he gets home he will play the harp for you, as a thank you.

Fíli: While I want to say a knife... because it fits him perfectly. I would have to say pipe weed. Fili would be the type to enjoy a smoke while by the fire, and since his trips are always long and filled with danger, he savors the nights he can relax. He would sit back, relax, watch the fire, and “inhale you." The pipe weed would remind him of you, the smell bringing back memories of your hands, hair—anything really. And if he was able to share this precious weed with everyone, he would thank you secretly for helping everyone relax. 

Kíli: Kili seems like the type of dwarf that brushes his hair. It’s less in braids, so it probably gets knotted up more. So having a small comb/brush gifted by you to help detangle after a long day is exactly what he needs. Kili uses it so much and will ask Fili to help brush his hair. He will then close his eyes and imagine you are brushing his hair…His dream would be interrupted, of course, by Fili saying, “Brother, please tell me why you have mud in your hair…”lol

Bilbo: He will keep a book! Maybe one of your favorites that you wrote your notes in. He loves looking over your scribbles, ideas, and thoughts you wrote in the margins! His favorite lines are ones he isn’t supposed to know. For example, he once found a note saying, "Bilbo’s birthday surprise will be on Tuesday. Get Cake!” He would blush and think about how much he loves you. 

Gandalf: He was a tough one to think about....Out of everyone, I feel like he will be gone the most. So, he would love it if you helped him sew up any holes in his outfit. When he is out in the world the stitching will remind him of you and how much you care for him.

[mika-mp3]

The treasure is all mine

-chapter three-

(Prologe, chapter one, chapter two, chapter four)

Genshin Impact x Creator!reader

warnings: no y/n used, slight yandere behavior, possible spelling errors, rain lol

summary: Tighnari leads you to his home; Gandharva Village, where you meet Collei. However.. they are starting to take note of the strange things happening around you and suspect there is more to who you are then what meets the eye....

characters: you, Tighnari, Collei

word count: 2159

wattpad story here

https://pin.it/1dI84VVUB

As the fire crackles and the rain continues to fall outside, you close your eyes, allowing yourself to drift into a restful sleep, your heart filled with hope and determination. The journey to uncover your past and discover your true identity has only just begun, and you are ready to embrace it, one step at a time.

The journey through the forest was both arduous and enlightening. Days melded into one another as Tighnari led you through the vast, dense woodland. The sun filtered through the towering trees, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor, while the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves provided a serene backdrop. Along the way, Tighnari shared his knowledge of the flora and fauna, teaching you about the medicinal properties of various plants and the habits of the forest's creatures.

One morning, as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the leafs above, Tighnari turned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and relief. "We're nearing Gandharva Village. It's a place of respite and learning for the Forest Rangers, often referred to as 'The City Above the Forest.' It's an important outpost, frequented by travelers, merchants, and adventurers."

Your heart quickened at the prospect of finally reaching a place of relative civilization. The forest had been beautiful, but the constant uncertainty of your situation had left you yearning for some stability.

"City Above the Forest?" you echoed, curiosity piqued.

Tighnari nodded. "Yes. Gandharva Village is built on a series of platforms and walkways suspended above the forest floor. It's designed to blend harmoniously with the natural environment, minimizing our footprint and maintaining the delicate balance of the ecosystem."

As you walked, the forest began to change subtly. The trees grew even taller, their trunks thicker and more ancient. The air felt different, fresher somehow, as if you were ascending into a different realm. You passed by shimmering waterfalls and crossed crystal-clear streams, each sight more breathtaking than the last.

Tighnari paused occasionally to point out interesting plants or animal tracks, his passion for the natural world evident in every word. "This is a varuna tree," he explained at one point, gesturing to an enormous tree with roots that seemed to span across the forest. "Its sap is highly prized for its healing properties. The rangers often collect it for medical use."

You nodded, absorbing the information. "It's incredible how everything in the forest seems to have a purpose."

"Indeed," Tighnari agreed. "Nature is a masterful teacher, if only we take the time to listen."

As the sun climbed higher, you finally caught sight of Gandharva Village. True to Tighnari's description, it was a marvel of engineering and nature. Wooden platforms connected by rope bridges and ladders formed a network high above the ground, blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. Lush greenery draped over the structures, and colorful flowers added vibrant splashes of color.

"Welcome to Gandharva Village," Tighnari said with a smile. "Let's head to my house. I want to conduct a thorough medical checkup to ensure you're alright."

You followed him across the swaying bridges, marveling at the ingenuity of the village's design. The air was filled with the scents of blooming flowers and the earthy aroma of the forest. Villagers greeted Tighnari warmly as you passed, their smiles reflecting the close-knit community spirit.

Arriving at Tighnari's house, you found it to be a cozy, well-kept dwelling, filled with books, herbs, and various scientific instruments. He gestured for you to sit on a comfortable chair by a large window that offered a stunning view of the forest canopy.

"Let's see," Tighnari began, retrieving a medical kit. "I'll check your vitals first."

You nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and nervousness. As he worked, his touch was gentle but precise, his eyes focused and attentive. The sense of care he exuded was reassuring.

As he examined you, Tighnari continued to share more about the village. "Gandharva Village serves as the main hub for the Forest Rangers. We monitor the forest, ensuring its health and safety. It's also a place where travelers can rest and resupply. The community here is diverse, with people from all walks of life coming together to protect and learn from the forest."

You listened intently, feeling a growing sense of connection to this place. "It sounds like a wonderful community. I can see why you love it here."

Tighnari smiled warmly. "It is. The forest is our lifeblood, and we do our best to live in harmony with it. Speaking of which, your readings are normal, but you need to stay warm and dry to avoid falling ill."

Before you could respond, the door to the house burst open, and a young girl with green hair and a sturdy looking bow rushed in. "Master Tighnari! You're back!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with relief. "I was so worried..."

Tighnari looked up, a mixture of surprise and warmth in his eyes. He fixes his clothing and walked over to her "Collei, it's good to see you. I didn't mean to worry you. We had an unexpected journey."

Collei's gaze shifted to you, her curiosity evident. "Who's this? Are you alright?"

You offered a small smile. "I'm fine, thank you. Tighnari has been taking good care of me."

Tighnari placed a reassuring hand on Collei's shoulder. "This is our guest. They've had a rough time but are safe now. Collei, can you help prepare some hot tea? It'll help them warm up."

Collei nodded eagerly. "Of course, Master." She hurried to the kitchen area, her movements quick and efficient.

As you sat there, enveloped in the warmth of the blanket and the kindness of your new companions, a sense of belonging began to take root. The journey ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time since you woke up in the forest, you felt a glimmer of hope.

Tighnari's house, with its mix of natural elements and scientific tools, seemed to reflect his dual nature as both a guardian of the forest and a seeker of knowledge. The walls were adorned with botanical drawings, and shelves were lined with jars of herbs and curious specimens.

"Tighnari," you began, feeling a need to understand more, "It must be incredible to live in a world where such beings as gods and elements exist."

"It is," Tighnari agreed. "But it's also a responsibility. Those who receive visions often feel a duty to use their powers for the greater good."

Before you could ask more, Collei returned with a steaming pot of tea and cups. She poured the tea with practiced ease, and the fragrant steam filled the room, adding to the cozy atmosphere.

"Here you go," she said, handing you a cup. "This should help warm you up."

You took the cup gratefully, feeling the warmth spread through your hands. "Thank you, Collei."

As you sipped the tea, its soothing warmth spreading through you, you realized that despite the mysteries surrounding your past, you had found a place where you could begin to seek answers. Gandharva Village, with its unique blend of nature and community, felt like a stepping stone on your journey of self-discovery.

Tighnari leaned back, his gaze thoughtful. "Rest for now. We can talk more in the morning. There’s much for you to learn about Teyvat, and perhaps we can uncover more about your past as we go."

You nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude and anticipation. "Thank you, Tighnari. And you too, Collei. I don't know what lies ahead, but I'm glad to have met you both."

With that, you settled into the warmth of the blanket, the fire crackling softly nearby, and the gentle murmur of the forest outside. The rain continued to fall, but within Tighnari's home, you felt safe and hopeful. The journey to uncover your true identity had begun in earnest, and with the support of your new friends, you felt ready to face whatever lay ahead.

As you drift into a deep, much-needed sleep, Tighnari and Collei moved to a corner of the room, their voices hushed but urgent. Tighnari’s sharp ears twitched slightly, always alert even in the safety of his home. He glanced over at the sleeping figure, then turned his attention back to Collei.

"Master, what happened out there? Who is this person?" Collei asked, her green eyes wide with curiosity and concern.

Tighnari sighed, running a hand through his dark green hair, his fennec ears flicking with agitation. "It's a long story, Collei. I found them wandering in the forest, disoriented and with no memory of who they are or how they got there. But there's more to it than just amnesia."

Collei tilted her head, her fox-like ears twitching in interest. "More? Like what?"

Tighnari leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. "The forest itself seemed to react to them. Flowers bloomed in their presence, and the trees seemed to bend to offer protection. It's as if the forest was… welcoming them."

Collei's eyes widened even further. "Welcoming them? But that's… I've never heard of such a thing happening."

"Neither have I," Tighnari admitted. "But that's not all. They don't smell like a normal human. In fact, they don't have any scent at all, which is highly unusual. Every living being has a scent, but they don't. It's like they exist outside the natural order of things."

Collei frowned, trying to process the information. "Do you think they could be… a god? Or some other non-human creature?"

Tighnari sighed again, his expression thoughtful. "It's possible. Their presence feels different, almost otherworldly. There's a calmness and a sense of belonging that I can't quite explain. It's like they are part of the forest in a way that goes beyond mere human understanding."

Collei hesitated, then spoke up. "I remember an old tale I heard as a child, a legend about the Creator. It was said that the Creator would one day return to Teyvat, bringing harmony and balance to the world. Could it be possible that…"

Tighnari's eyes widened slightly. "The Creator? It's a tale I've heard too, but always dismissed as myth. Yet, the signs… they can't be ignored."

Collei nodded slowly, her mind racing. "If they truly are the Creator, or even something close to that, it could explain why the forest reacted the way it did. The forest, the plants, even the animals – they all recognized them."

Tighnari looked back at the sleeping figure, his expression softening. "If that's true, then their presence here could have far-reaching implications. We need to keep them safe and help them recover their memories. Only then can we understand their true purpose and what it means for Teyvat."

Collei agreed, her determination matching Tighnari's. "We'll do everything we can to protect them and help them find out who they are. This could be the start of something incredible."

Tighnari smiled, careful not to touch her, knowing how much she disliked physical contact. "Thank you, Collei. Your support means a lot. For now, let's focus on keeping them safe and comfortable. We'll figure out the rest as we go."

They both turned their attention back to the sleeping figure, their minds filled with questions and possibilities. The journey ahead was uncertain, but with the bond they shared and the resolve they held, they felt ready to face whatever challenges lay in wait.

Tighnari then spoke again, a new idea forming in his mind. "Collei, there is someone who might be able to help us. The Dendro Archon, the God of Wisdom. She has knowledge beyond our understanding. If anyone can provide answers, it's her."

Collei's eyes lit up with hope. "The Dendro Archon? Yes, she would surely know what to do. We should take them to her."

Tighnari nodded. "It's settled then. Tomorrow, we'll prepare for the journey to meet the Dendro Archon. Let's hope she can shed some light on this mystery."

---

The sun rose gently over Gandharva Village, casting a warm glow over the intricate network of platforms and bridges. The village was already bustling with activity as Forest Rangers went about their duties, preparing for another day of safeguarding the forest.

Inside Tighnari's home the air was filled with the scent of fresh herbs and flowers. You stirred from your sleep, blinking slowly as you adjusted to the morning light streaming through the windows.

Tighnari and Collei were already up, speaking quietly near the door. They turned as the reader awoke, their expressions softening with concern.

"Good morning," Tighnari greeted with a warm smile. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit better," you reply, still feeling the lingering warmth of the blankets. "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome," Collei said, her voice gentle. "We're here to help you."

As they prepared for the day, you couldn't shake the feeling of being part of something much larger. The forest, the village, and the people around them all seemed to resonate with a sense of purpose and connection.

Tighnari's words from the previous night echoed in your mind. The journey to uncover your true identity was just beginning, and with the support of your new friends, they felt ready to face whatever lay ahead. The path forward was uncertain, but it was also filled with hope and the promise of discovery.

https://www.pinterest.de/pin/126311964540912532/

Thank you so much for reading! Fell free to give me feedback and ideas how to continue this!

P.S. I fixed the pov in the end!!

Mika

Taglist:

- @wutap - @saternsky - @vianitry - @fantasyhopperhea

[moonchildstyles]

vervain

rosemary part six: harry goes home for the first time.

wordcount: 14.9k+

—————

The green sign advertising the city limits glinted in the sunlight. Thirty-six hours of driving with two overnight stops had finally brought them home. 

Over the center console, Harry had his arm stretched out with his hand in (Y/N)'s lap, their hands tangled together. 

A sense of deja-vu washed over him at the familiar sight despite the unfamiliar circumstances. The first time he saw this sign, Harry was numb. This was just another stop on the endless journey he had embarked on before he even really knew what it would mean to run away. He'd shut every meaningful part of himself away, ensuring the pain and guilt and sorrow wouldn't have a chance to strike him. 

This time around, despite the same sign in front of him, the same sun shining over him, the same town welcoming him in, everything was different. That solid facade now held irreparable cracks.

The soft parts of him that held happiness and healing, vulnerability and contentedness, were finally being exposed after so long of being hidden away from the light. In trying his best to keep everything from hurting so much, he eliminated every chance of happiness or redemption. 

While the cracks were raw and sore, the fact he could feel them was enough for Harry to find the bright side of the pain. More and more of the positives began to seep in even if he had to dig through the tunnel of hurt still. 

(Y/N) squeezed his hand as the view of the town came over the horizon. It was odd seeing it look so normal; nothing had changed since they left, despite the fact everything had changed. Even the way he saw the small village had changed. This was no longer a single stop on the way to another hiding place. There was no reason to run any more if he didn't want to. This could be his home. 

Harry's house was the first stop they made. It was quick and quiet, Harry only stopping off to see if he even still had a home here. 

(Y/N) followed him through the apartment, their hands entwined with her behind. Everything was just as Harry had left it. His sheets were still a mess, his closet doors thrown open, and his kitchen sparsely stocked with canned food. He never thought he'd see this place again; no matter what had happened on the road, he never saw himself coming back here for any other reason than to return (Y/N) to her life before he was gone again. Now, this place held a small sense of permanence as he made plans on how he was going to have to fix up certain areas he messed up in his quick escape and what kind of fixtures he would add to his limited furniture. 

But all of that could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, he would be at (Y/N)'s—at her request. She had wanted to take a shower in her own bathroom and sleep in her own bed, but she wanted Harry to be there as well. He had no qualms about that plan. (He wouldn't be able to admit it, but he didn't think he would have been able to drop her off and go their separate ways anyway. Not after everything). 

Other than the key he plucked from the door jamb and the clothes he dropped off to be washed later, nothing was changed in his apartment in their wake. 

Harry drove slowly through the town, as if becoming familiar for the first time with the place he had called home for almost nine months. Her gingerbread neighbourhood was just as perfect as when he left it last, though things looked that much sweeter now without the veil of panic and lies. 

With their bags packed over his shoulder, (Y/N) led him inside with her. Everything felt pleasantly mundane as they shed their shoes just like they did the night they kissed, their bags being deposited in her bedroom after. Her kitchen was the exact same, his memories being refreshed instead of being reflected through the photographs he still needed to burn. 

They were settled for less than two minutes before a frantic knocking on the front door sent his heart rattling behind his ribs. He could hear (Y/N) gasp from the kitchen, her steps stilling. A moment passed before he saw her creep down the hallway from the corner of his eye. He figured he looked a lot like her then: wide eyes, tense muscles, and too many memories filling in the background. 

Another round of pounding knocks along with muffled voices started again, Harry wincing as he was transported back to the motel for a split second. He rose to his feet from where he sat on the couch, those lingering protective instincts awakening. His imagination ran too wild as it filled in the gaps of who could be waiting on the other side of the door. 

(Y/N) recovered faster than him, her gaze turning to him. It was the sight of her, eyes softened, muscles relaxing, that had him remembering that there wasn't anything for him to fear on the other side. 

Everything was over. It was done. He was safe now. 

A careful smile spread across her lips when he met her gaze. That was all he needed to relax, his shoulders falling as he stayed on his feet. 

He watched as she approached the door, another batch of frantic knocking being cut off when she turned the bolt. Pulling the knob, (Y/N) had her free hand bundled into a fist at her side; no matter how calm she tried to portray herself, he knew she felt some of the same tremors he did. Harry kept his eyes trained onto the widening gap of the door, readying himself despite the mantra he tried to remind himself. 

Standing in a pair on the porch were friends of (Y/N)'s Harry recognized from the bakery. They were restless, hands shaking and feet rocking. Her hand was raised to knock once more on the door, but the limb was dropped when she caught sight of (Y/N). Their faces broke into bubbling grins and sparkling eyes the second the door opened. 

In a blink, the pair was climbing all over (Y/N), exclaiming her name with wavering voices. 

"Where were you?" one of them called, voice muffled by their embrace. 

"Everyone has been so worried. People started searching for you," the other bubbled off, just as teary as the first. 

The moment melted into a teary reunion full of tangled limbs and bubbling joy. Through the chatter, Harry was able to suss out that one of (Y/N)'s neighbours had spotted their return and a single text had started a chain reaction. Half the town was now apparently making plans to stop by and see them. That's what happened when someone like (Y/N) worked at one of the most popular spots in a small town; it was hard not to get attached to her, Harry could attest. 

Rising over the noise, he could hear the dips and curves of (Y/N)'s laugh. She was being covered in love and affection, small tears of joy highlighting the round of her cheek as her friends wiped them away. Harry could only stand back and watch, a cautious smile tipping his lips. 

This was what he had pictured every time he didn't see an end to the motels and the hours on the road. This was the moment he had been working towards the second he stole her away in the middle of the night. 

He'd kept her safe. He returned her to her home and to the people who loved her. 

Harry kept his promise. 

A head of long, dark hair popped up over the teary puppy pile, watery eyes looking right at him. It was Sabrina, her familiar features glimmering in tears with a bright smile stretching her lips. 

"Harry!" Breaking from the group, Sabrina barreled towards him with open arms. 

Taken aback, Harry hesitated with his arms hovering around her while her own looped around his middle. From the corner of his eye, he saw (Y/N) looking to him with a beaming smile. He relaxed at the sight, reciprocating Sabrina's hold. 

"We were all so worried," she told him, voice muffled against his chest, "When you didn't show at the grocery store and no one had heard from (Y/N), we all panicked." 

"I—uh—," Harry stumbled around his tongue, unable to find the words. He didn't know how to respond to a reaction like this. He knew (Y/N) would have been missed, but this was unexpected. He never thought it would matter if returned to this town or not. "'M sorry, Sabrina. We—uh—We didn't really have a chance to talk to anyone," he settled on, sounding just as overwhelmed as he felt. 

Sabrina pulled away first, giving Harry a joyous smile. Before much else could be said, another light knock sounded from the front door. 

(Y/N) answered it once more, having barely made it out of the front hallway before being attacked in clinging embraces. This time waiting on the other side was a face much more familiar to Harry: Ms. Klarke from the library. 

Instead of her usual librarian attire, she had a pair of dirty, ripped jeans on with a button-up top in yellow gingham. The high points of her face were highlighted with a warm flush, her hair tied back in a twisting braid. Her eyes lit up once she spotted who was waiting inside (Y/N)'s home. 

"You really are back!" she beamed, "When I got the phone call, I was scared to believe it." 

"Ms. Klarke!" (Y/N) greeted her, sweeping an arm to her side in a gesture to let her in. The bakery girls joined Harry in the living room while the new addition entered. "We didn't mean to worry you, I'm sorry." 

Waving them off, Ms. Klarke shook her head. "I'm just happy you're alright," she started, her gaze landing on Harry, "And, you. I've been saving all these books in the back for you—you can't leave me waiting like that!" 

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Harry bit back a smile while his eyes began to warm. He didn't know what to say, his voice feeling lost in his throat at the kind of attention he was earning. 

Talking for them, (Y/N) piped up as she stepped into the living room, "Harry had a family emergency a few hours away and we didn't have any time to tell anyone before we had to leave, then my charger broke, and it was a whole mess. We're sorry we scared you guys—I wish I had been able to reach out." 

Harry couldn't tune into the chatter that erupted then, his heart too big for his chest. He felt as if he were floating in this room, weightless as he tried to anchor himself to the moment. More and more faces appeared as more people came through to celebrate their return. 

Patrons he remembered from the bakery came by ("We left your table free for you, where did you go?"), coworkers from the grocery store ("We tried to beat your stocking times, but it's not as fun when you're not there to give us a grumpy look!"), and people Harry didn't even know were there to rejoice in seeing he and (Y/N) again. A scene he could only recognize out of a movie scene or a passage in a book began to form in (Y/N)'s living room.

Standing in the middle of it all, bruised and overwhelmed, Harry couldn't think of any time he'd been happier,

Meeting (Y/N)'s smiling eyes across the room, he knew today was always going to be one of the best days of his life.

—————

"Are you not tired?" 

(Y/N) looked at him through the fan of her lashes, eyes exhausted after the night they'd had. Her home had become a revolving door of townsfolk coming in and out to greet them upon their return. More than a handful of times, (Y/N) had to reiterate their cover story, doling out extra details only when asked—more than once, she shared a look with him across the room as if to ensure he was on board with their story. After a dinner of pizza that was brought over by one of Harry's coworkers had been shared, the groups began to filter out. The house had been quiet since the last friend—one of (Y/N)'s old managers at the bakery—had said their final goodbyes before they were left alone. 

As much as he appreciated seeing all of these people, those who he didn't even know he could have an impact on, now that he'd had a chance to shower and nestle into a real bed, he was finally able to decompress. It was overwhelming to be around so many people at once, lingering instincts trying to bubble to the surface and urge him into keeping an eye on everything with every exit assessed. More than once, he had to remind himself that no one was lurking in the shadows anymore, which only overwhelmed him more; the freedom hadn't sunk in yet and he wasn't sure when it would. 

(Y/N) looked just as exhausted as he felt. It was a familiar sight to see her with damp hair and tired eyes, but everything was just a shade different. Now, he shared the bed with her, those self-appointed boundaries he put in place now dissolving to leave them sharing a pillow. They laid close enough to one another for body heat to be shared under the frills of her swirling, peach colored comforter; if he wanted, Harry could tangle their legs together with just a stretch of his knee. At this proximity, despite the fatigue on her features, he could see in her eyes she was just as relieved and happy as he was. 

Harry couldn't help the smile that tipped his lips the longer he looked at her. It was an interesting feeling, the want to smile and share his happiness like that; it was the first thing he wanted to do when he looked at her. 

Dimples denting his cheeks, he allowed his gaze to wander down her features. "Yeah, but I want y'to be able to sleep." 

A pout tugged at (Y/N)'s own features, her bottom lip puffing out more than he was sure she was even aware. "Why can't we sleep together?" 

The lighthearted air in his chest deflated some at her question. "I jus'... I don't want to wake y'up if I have a dream," he murmured, his explanation coming easier now that she knew things about him he never imagined he would have the courage to share. What more was the admittance of a nightmare to her after everything else? 

"I don't care," she told him, inching the much closer to him with the sheets shifting around them, "If you do have a bad dream, I'll be right here." 

Maybe it was the fact he was still recovering from the last week and a half, or the impromptu party they had tonight, or just the realization that his life had changed so much in the last few days, but (Y/N)'s words plucked at his heart just right in the dark of her room. Everything soft in him had been poked and prodded, enough to cause a pool of tears to spring into his eyes. He didn't know when he started getting so emotional, but it was as if all those years of suppressing it had only caused a build up that he was draining now. 

It was (Y/N) that reached out to him first, closing that small distance between them until she had him bundled in her arms. Harry didn't hesitate to cuddle her to his chest, face buried in the crown of her head. He held her with his arms looped around her shoulders, her cheek smushed against his neck while her own arms were wrapped around his middle. 

"Thank you," he murmured into her hair. (Y/N) only hugged him tighter in response. 

He wasn't sure if (Y/N) would ever understand how therapeutic it was to just be had the way she did for him. After years of bare minimum contact with others, to be received with open arms and free affection, it put him all out of sorts knowing that he could be included in that kind of kindness. He still didn't believe he truly deserved her trust and care, but he wasn't going to be the one to stop it. She knew who he was and still wanted him to feel her touch and hear her soft words. 

"(Y/N)?" he whispered, pulling away from their snuggle though he didn't go far. 

Peeling herself away from her hiding place in his neck, she gazed up at him with forgiving eyes. "Hm?" 

Harry couldn't help but to allow his gaze to shift over her features, noting the slope of her nose and the height of her cheekbones. Her lashes were a gentle fan, brushing her brow bone with every blink. Her skin was dewy and scented after her luxuriously long shower, drawing him in like a moth to a glimmering flame. The pillows of her lips were the main draw, his eyes struggling to stay away for long before he was mapping the curve of her cupid's bow and the dips of her mouth. 

Forcing himself to draw his eyes back to hers, Harry blinked with his throat bobbing in a heavy swallow. "Can I—... I-I want to kiss you," he crooned to her, his voice falling among the folds of the sheets. 

He watched as (Y/N)'s face broke out into a grin, soft and just for him. He got to bask in the sight just before she closed the distance herself and pressed her lips to his with a tilt of her chin. 

Her kiss was just as gentle as he remembered, the contact kind and giving. This time, though, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that this moment was for them alone. No one could take this from him. That made the slotting of their lips that much sweeter. The kisses he placed upon her top lip and the taste of her minty toothpaste that much more special. (Y/N) melted into his hold, giving herself into their kiss with his bottom lip between her two. Sliding his hands over her shoulders, he was able to cradle her cheeks in his palms, thumbs brushing the length of her bottom lashes. Every tip of their heads had the tips of their noses brushing, a small smile touching at (Y/N)'s lips every time. 

The kiss was lazy. It was long and lingering. No implications were implied other than the need Harry had to know her in this sense—how much he wanted her to know him. He could still be gentle for her. 

It was with the way she had pulled back just enough to get a good breath, brushing her nose against his in a minute puppy's kiss that had a stray thought entering Harry's head by the time another kiss was smeared upon his lips: he was kissing the love of his life. 

This was where he was supposed to be. There had to be a reason why he was pulled to this town, and (Y/N) had to be that reason. There were plenty of things in the past years that he wished he could take back, that he wished he could change, but if everything led to making this possible—making him into the kind of man that (Y/N) was able to love—he wasn't able to argue with the road that took him here. 

Before long, (Y/N) pulled away with a smattering of kisses pressed against his mouth. He couldn't help the smile on his face when she drew away to look at him. 

He was sure his pupils were seconds away from turning into hearts or just welling up from the amount of devotion swimming in his heart for her. 

"Wake me up if you need me, okay? I don't care what time, or anything," she told him, shifting on the sheets to get comfortable. 

"I will," he promised her, allowing her to cling to him until they were wrapped in a similar cuddle like the one they had the last night in the motel. 

Harry fell asleep with her head on his chest, their even breathing syncing up like the bass of a heartbeat. He doesn't wake again until the sun is shining in the sky, only pleasant dreams left behind. 

—————

Lips thinning, Harry re-read the building instructions for the side table he was building for his apartment. (Y/N) had joked it would take him hours to piece together, but he hadn't thought it would really be this hard. 

But, she'd probably laugh if she found out how hard he was struggling with the directions, and he always liked to see her happy.

As much as he may have wanted to bother her, she was too busy doing her part of trying to cozy up his apartment. He had told her it wasn't necessary, that it wasn't any of her responsibility, but that didn't stop her from insisting she tag along with him. While he was busy putting together more permanent items to fill the space (including the stupid end table), she was in the process of making his bed something pleasant to sleep in.

Tucking the corners of a fitted sheet around the dimensions of his mattress, (Y/N) piped up, "What's next then, H?" 

"Hm?" he hummed, his attention primarily on the fold out of instructions on the tall box beside him, "Um—I think I need to change the bulb in the kitchen, but I jus' want to finish this first." 

A peal of laughter left her lips, drawing Harry's own lips into a small smile. "No," she sang, "I mean, what's the next adventure for you? You have all this freedom now, do you have any kind of plan?"

Harry's brows cinched together in the middle, his hands slowing as he worked. "I—um—I don't know," he mumbled, "I jus'... I don't think I plan on leaving." 

A pause sounded in the room, just the sound of (Y/N) rustling the sheet over his bed. "Oh?" she said after a beat. 

Giving a small nod, Harry drew his attention away from the nonsense table and trailed his gaze to where (Y/N) was stretched over his bed. She was looking at him over her shoulder, her eyes tender. 

"I want to stay here," he told her quietly. 

Her own task at hand was pushed to the wayside as she settled to sit down on his bed, sheet free of any other dressing as the folds and creases pulled towards her like waves. "You do?" she pressed, a small smile itching at the corners of her lips, "No big town or anything in the works?" 

"No," he said simply, "I want to be here." 

(Y/N) seemed especially content to hear from him about this with the way she lent towards him, her elbows being planted on her knees. "Any plans for what you want to do here then?" 

Lifting his shoulders, he gave her a shrug. "Not sure, but I should probably get a better job; I don't really need to keep being paid under the table for an overnight position," he laughed off, realizing the amount of roots he could actually put down here if he wanted. 

"Not if you like it, thought," (Y/N) quipped, ever positive in the wake of Harry's evolving attitude, "But, I bet you'd do really good at the library or something like that." 

That was a train of thought Harry had never allowed himself to go down. It would be rather nice to spend his days around books, he thought. Ms. Klarke would be good company too. Maybe, he'd look into something like that. 

Before he could think better of it, more ideas rolled off of Harry's tongue, possibilities he'd never let himself consider before now taking shape in reality. "I-I think I want to get a cat, too." 

Perking up at his words, (Y/N) broke into a bright grin as she looked at him. "Really?!" she bubbled, "That would be perfect, Harry! You'd be the best cat dad, I can definitely see that." 

Harry crossed his arms across his chest to hide the shaking of his hands as he considered the next plan in his list of possibilities. From the corner of his eye, he could see the photo of his family set up on the brand-new coffee table decorating the room. He kept his eyes facing his feet as he spoke, "I think... I want to try to find my mum and sister, too." 

Silence filled his apartment for a moment, (Y/N) having paused before the gentle sound of her voice floated between them, "Harry, that's a wonderful idea." He could hear the creaks of his mattress as she assumedly hopped from her position. His sense of her presence shifted as she came closer to him though he still didn't know if he had the willpower to meet her eyes and not break down. "I can help if you want?" she offered, "I don't really know how to find anyone, but I'll help any way I can.

"I think they'd love to hear from you; I'm sure your mom misses you so much." 

Her final statement hit him just right, every newly revealed tender bit inside him feeling the effect. Choking up with a lump in his throat, Harry whispered, "I miss her, too." 

(Y/N) didn't wait to cradle him in her arms, the embrace something Harry was now familiar with. She gave affection so freely, always there for him the second she felt she was needed or even when she was the one in need of his touch. Every day her arms felt more and more like a home. 

With her arms looped around him tightly, (Y/N) spoke into his chest, "You're a good person, Harry, I know that." 

An argument was ready on his tongue, the same one that he and (Y/N) had gone back and forth on since they returned home. Before he could get anything out, he was cut off by a muffled voice. 

"I know you don't agree with me," she rushed out, not wanting to hear a syllable of his protests, "but, I don't care. That's how I feel, and I'm right." 

A breathy laugh fell from Harry's lips, the sound of his joy fanning across the crown of her head where he had his face nuzzled into. The sound caught in his throat the longer he let it process. 

The way she talked to him was always with such great care. Even before she knew the truth, there wasn't a time he could remember her being any harsher than a tease with him—and when she would play with him as such, she only made him feel normal. He knew what it was like to be looked at as if there was nothing to him, that he wasn't a person worth knowing; Trevor had looked at him like that every time he offered him a job, every time he had effectively pushed someone away they had given him those eyes. (Y/N), despite his best efforts, was there for him. 

He knew she meant every word she'd just said to him. She truly believed he was a good person—someone that deserved her touch and to stand beside. No matter what he put her through, at her core, she believed he was a good person whether or not he could make a case otherwise. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry allowed his mouth to move before he could shut himself down: "I love you." 

Her nose buried in his shoulder, Harry felt her voice as much as he heard it when she said, "What?" Pulling away from their embrace just enough to look up at him, (Y/N) reached up with soft hands and pushed his hair back, gaining a look at his eyes. "What did you say?" she repeated.

A pinch of fear plucked at the raw edges of his heart. "I said I love you," he murmured, his gaze dropping down her features, too afraid to see what swam in her eyes at his declaration, "Y'don't have to say it back, or anything. You jus'... I feel better with you." 

Harry saw her smile first, the way it broke across her features and had her lips pressing into her cheeks and lines appearing by her eyes. Her hands settled on his jaw, palms following the line with her fingers dipping into the baby hairs of his hairline. 

Pulling him in for a kiss, Harry barely had time to register before his lips were smeared across (Y/N)'s. There was an intensity behind the contact, as if this were her way of clinging to him without climbing all over him in the middle of his apartment. Before long, she could hold the kiss against the smile that was inching back over her features. 

Drawing away, Harry was rewarded with the sight of her bubbling smile, the same one he tasted in her kiss. "I love you too, Harry. So much," she crooned, her voice a song as if floated to his ears, "You're the strongest, smartest person I know, and I'm lucky to have you in my life." 

That genuine intensity in her eyes didn't allow a single doubt to creep into his mind. 

Over the last few days, Harry had become a bit accustomed to bursting into tears every time something overwhelmed him or a realization pinged in his head. But, now, looking at her and knowing she felt the same way he did, Harry could only smile. He was so happy he could laugh, and smile, and scream, and hold her. No tears were on his mind, no lump in his throat, no pressure behind his eyes. 

Only joy. 

When he found his mom, he couldn't wait to tell her all about (Y/N). 

—————

Gasping, running, Harry knew someone was behind him. He couldn't turn around to be sure, but he knew that if he slowed down for even a second, he would be caught in a grasp he wouldn't make it out of. The gun in his hand was heavy, but there wasn't a single shot of ammunition left. He hadn't been such a bad shot since he was first commissioned for this lifestyle. Now, he would have to pay for that. 

Over the horizon, a sunbleached motel appeared the longer he ran. (Y/N) was there—he didn't know how he knew that, but it was a fact he couldn't let go of. He needed to get to her in time, tell her to run. She wasn't supposed to still be here; she had promised him that she would leave if he didn't come back last night. She wasn't supposed to wait for him. 

They were going to kill her next if he didn't get to her in time. After they took care of him, she would end up collateral in a war she didn't sign up for. 

But, Harry was running out of time. He knew that in the way his lungs burned and legs ached. He couldn't outrun them. 

As if he conjured her himself, (Y/N) chose that moment to step out of the motel. Underneath the blinking sign, he could see her spot him in the distance. She opened her mouth to say something. 

She didn't know someone was behind him—she didn't know she couldn't be here anymore. 

Just before the sound of a gunshot could ring out in his dream, Harry jolted awake. 

That burn in his lungs he felt in his dream was very much real with the way he sucked in air as if he couldn't get enough, inflating his lungs past capacity before he deflated too fast. Coming back to the surface with every labored blink of his eyes, Harry pieced together his surroundings. 

A peach bedspread was tucked around his chest, the fluff suddenly feeling too warm around him, with a grey bed frame behind him. A green, fuzzy pillow was pushed to his feet, the extra cushion taking up too much space for two people to fit in one bed. 

His heart rate slowed as he remembered. This was (Y/N)'s bed. He was in her room, in her gingerbread house, with her snuggled into his side. 

"Harry?" 

Hints of the peach bedspread reminded him a bit too much of the motel in his dream. He cringed at the reminder, his hands stilling where they had been about to push the fabric away from him. 

"Harry?" (Y/N) chirped again, her sleepy voice growing firm. 

Blinking the nightmare out of his gaze, Harry turned to face her with a slew of messy curls draping themselves over his forehead. Reality came back to him in pieces, her room feeling more and more real with his dream fading to the background. 

(Y/N) laid beside him, propped up on her elbow as she looked at him with concern in her eyes. Her hair was sleep-mussed with puffy under eyes. Every blink she gave was slow and lingering, fighting back the urge to sleep. 

She saw him, that much he knew. Even in the wake of the ticking in his head, Harry knew that. (Y/N) loved him, that was true. That was one of the only things he could keep track of through the muddy waters he was still attempting to shake off. 

She had promised him that he wouldn't have to fend off his nightmares by himself, and there she was. At his side. 

Reaching out, (Y/N) grazed a hand across his chest, a grounding touch. "Harry, can you hear me?" 

Nodding frantically, Harry clutched her hand in his. His breathing was beginning to shudder in his lungs, coming in uneven paces. Using his hold on her hand, he tugged her down to him, laying her form against his chest. (Y/N) moved wherever she was needed, happy to give him any kind of comfort he was seeking. 

"You-You were trying to help me," he told her, swallowing around his dry throat, "But, we-we were back at the motel, and y’didn't know that they were—" 

(Y/N) didn't wait for him to finish before she was reaffirming her hold on his hand, lacing their fingers together with her other hand tangling in the fabric of his shirt. It wasn't a new dream, this scenario. Most of his older nightmares of his days on the job had been left on the back burner while these memories played like a reel of the worst moments of his life on replay. Every time, they started like a real memory from the days in the motels, but this time Harry wasn't strong enough or smart enough to save them. She knew how to talk him down from these at this point. 

"I know," she told him in a gentle croon, "But, it's not real. It was just a dream. We're here. You kept me safe the whole time." 

"Y'were so scared, (Y/N)," he told her, his voice thin. 

Blinking at him, she pulsed her hand around his. "I was, but I knew you wouldn't let anything happen to me. And, you didn't." A small smile grew on her features as Harry calmed under her words. "That's what I'm doing for you now," she told him, "I'm making sure nothing happens to you while you're with me. It's my turn now."

On instinct—one he didn't really understand or was used to yet—Harry couldn't help but to smile at her. She was the only one that knew how to draw that out of him. 

Harry shifted, one of his hands clutching her bedspread unfurled only to land delicately on her cheek. (Y/N) lent into his warmth, the length of her lashes grazing the tip of his thumb as she hovered over him. Firming his hold on her, Harry pulled her in for a kiss. 

The press of his lips against hers allowed him to pour every word of devotion he couldn't dig out of his throat. The taste of her raspberry lip treatment lingered on his lip, grounding him to this moment. She was his anchor, her kiss his tether to the real world that was suddenly brighter than even the best dreams his mind could conjure. 

Every pressing of his lips against hers, whether slightly off center or with either lips slotting together, was an expression of the love he felt for her but couldn't choke out right then. 

(Y/N) was more than happy to let Harry sink into her with every joining of their lips. She didn't stop him when he dove back in after breaking for a breath, not when he loosened his hold on her hand to cradle both cheeks. She allowed him to devote himself to her, find his own redemption with every linking of their mouths. 

Soon enough, (Y/N) drew away just far enough for the tips of their noses to brush, hooded eyes meeting in the dark of her room. "Are you feeling better?" she asked, breathless. 

He paused before he answered, flashes of the nightmare returning in quick succession. "I jus'—," he started, cutting himself off as he floundered, "It could have happened. I know it wasn't real, but it could have been." 

Nudging her nose against his, (Y/N) spoke earnestly with the pillows of her lips brushing his with every word, "But, it wasn't; it didn't happen. I'm here. You kept us safe and now you're done. Forever." 

Harry's throat bobbed with a thick swallow as he listened to her words. He knew it was true, that he was done and everything he had done had protected them both in the long run, but it was hard to accept. He still didn't view himself as a savior, and he wasn't sure he ever would. 

Shifting on his chest, (Y/N) grabbed his hands that cradled her cheeks, her palms pressed to the tops of his hands. 

"I'm here, Harry," she murmured, "I'm okay. Because of you." 

Using the hold she had on his hands, she glided them down the slope of her neck, and cuffs of her shoulders as if to prove her point. She was solid and real. No injuries or accidents. She was safe. 

One of his hands was pushed to rest just over her heart. Through the fabric of her sleep shirt and cage of her ribs, he could feel the pounding of her heart in her chest. She was warm, that heat emanating into his palm. The more he tuned into the beats of her heart, he found it matched the same raised pace of his own. 

With his hand still pressed to her heart, (Y/N) surged forward, pressing her lips to his in another kiss. "See? I'm here, Harry," she murmured into his mouth, her words tasting sweet on his tongue, "You have me." 

Taking over control of his hands, he slipped them out from under her own as he pressed another lingering kiss across her mouth. Gliding his palms over her sides, Harry felt every line he had seen since that night in the grocery store, documenting every crease and curve, every plush dimple and rounded edge. His fingertips made dents in her skin as he passed over her form, her body giving under the strength of his touch. 

Every catalogued touch grounded Harry more and more. She was here with him, right now, he knew that. He couldn't be more grateful. 

He may have been able to keep them safe while on the run, but she was the reason he was whole right now—if with a few frayed edges. Without her, he would have ended up in another unpolished town, wondering when or if he would ever have a chance to live. Without her, he wouldn't have had a future stable enough to purchase even just an end table. 

Harry knew well where he would be without her, but that only made it easier to appreciate everything she'd done and changed for him. It made it easier to devote himself to her every whim. 

His hands wandered around her body further, his kisses deepening with every twist of his head and tip of his chin. (Y/N) reciprocated with her hands on his chest, curling and unfurling the material of his top every time he pressed against her mouth that much harder. Skating over her body, his palms pressed into her thighs, bypassing the length of her sleep shirt. Her skin was soft and perfumed, fresh from the shower she had luxuriated in before snuggling into bed with him.  

(Y/N) was soft, so soft Harry didn't think anyone could be that way. There were still bumps and ridges, texture to her skin just like any other, but none of that registered in the same capacity as he sunk his fingertips into the flesh, her body giving way under his touch. The press of his lips over her pushed harder, taking more and more of her with every cant of his head and tip of his chin. His hands on her legs slipped under the hem of her top, grazing the end of her shorts as he tried to scope out if she was that soft everywhere. 

A particularly heady grip of his hands on her thighs had (Y/N) sighing into his mouth. The noise only made him want to cling to her harder, see what else he could draw out of her. 

"You're here," he murmured against her lips, repeating her earlier words as they sunk into his bones. 

Breathless, (Y/N) told him again, "I'm here." Her words fanned across his skin before he sealed his lips over hers once more, warm and dripping like nothing else he'd heard come out of her. "I'm yours." 

Harry could feel muscles in his abdomen start tensing at her words. Maybe it was the way that he could feel her speak them against his mouth as much as he heard them, or the fact her voice was wrapped around the sentiment at all, but he was far from unaffected. His stomach was tight, his chest boiling with his heart pounding and burning. God, he was getting hard from a makeout like he was some kind of college idiot. 

He couldn't even blame himself for the way he dug into her, hands and all. Everywhere he pushed, she gave away and cushioned his touch. She moved that much closer with every shift of their bodies, sinking into him. Harry felt her with more than just his hands. 

(Y/N)'s hands found their way to his hair, sliding between the curls and flexing into the strands. She parted her lips when the first swipe of his tongue grazed her mouth, her hands tightening and tugging in his hair. 

The sting against his scalp was more than Harry's brain could process in that moment. All he knew was that he wanted to be closer to her—needed to be closer, even. That touch had him pushing against her, grazing his hands up her sides until he was gripping her waist. He pushed until she was rolling back for him, Harry hovering above her while she clung to him.

"(Y/N)," he sighed against her kiss, pulling away enough to speak, "I—" 

"Please," she whined with a nod of her head to the question he hadn't asked. Her palms slipped out from his hair and sat on the broad of his shoulders. She used her leverage to tug him to her, trying to convince him to give in and let her feel him again. 

Between her spread legs, Harry was pulled to lay above her. Those thighs he had documented with his hands were now cushioning his hips. The soft edges he could draw from memory were now his landing pad for all the hard angles and solid ridges that made up his body. Their chests were pressed together with heart beats rattling rib cages. Her body welcomed him with every curve and soft pad; Harry pushing where she pulled. The sticky sound of their mouths meeting and parting lingered in the small space between them.

Laying there in a mess of peach colored sheets and a plush body that had just been declared his, Harry couldn't think of anything or anyone he'd ever been more devoted to. He would do anything for her. 

Right now, he wanted to give her that pleasure that had her sighing into his mouth and clinging to his touch. He wanted to do whatever it took to have her melting into the mattress, sinking into her sheets with a blissed out smile on her face. He wanted to hear those noises that had his chest rattling and his thighs aching from how bunched his muscles became. 

"Harry, I..." (Y/N) started, her voice trailing off as she pulled in a heavy breath. The length of her lashes reached for his own, the tips tangling among his. 

Smearing a kiss over the corner of her opened mouth, Harry tightened his hands on her waist. "I know, peach, I know." 

That heavy intake paused in her lungs. "Peach?" 

He smiled against her skin, a little too smug over her reaction. "Yeah," he crooned, "You're soft like one. Sweet, too." 

A gentle laugh was felt against his kiss before touching his ears. "I like that," she told him, tipping her head just enough to pull him in for another lingering kiss. 

"I like you, peach" he told her, reservation be damned as he shared the first thought on his mind. 

(Y/N)'s thighs tightened around his hips at his words. Not much else could be said when Harry sealed a kiss to her mouth, parting her lips and taking her top one between his two. Her sighs came more freely now with his weight pressing into her, the slick sounds of their mouths mixing in to create a soundtrack. 

With a bubbling in his stomach, Harry's body moved instinctively, pressing his hips heavily into hers. The apex of her thighs welcomed him readily, the bulge in his sweats pressing into her softest spot. A shivering moan left (Y/N)'s lips then, hands in his hair tightening.

 If not for the fact his eyes were already closed, he knew they would have rolled to the back of his head. Harry had never been more grounded in his entire life; he was anchored to this moment. More often than not, he couldn't get his brain to shut up—he was constantly considering every outcome of a given situation, his next move, his next words, everything. But, here, none of that mattered. There was nowhere else in this world that he wanted to focus on, no other person that could pull him from his living daydream. 

This place—a frilly peach bed with fluffy pillows in the middle of a nowhere town—was what he had been searching for all these years since he left his past life behind. This feeling was the goal when he had fantasized about getting out of his line of work. 

Now, he had it. He had a soft woman underneath him, her heart just as welcoming as her body, with his brain quiet. She had him in the palm of his hand, and he knew he was safest there. 

Sinking into her, Harry just wanted to show her. Everything brewing in his chest, caged back by his ribs and squeezing his lungs, he wanted her to feel and know and see. 

Another push of his hips, a physical show of her effect on him, had another moan rolling off of (Y/N)'s tongue. The sound tasted sweet to Harry; the taste of redemption and something too holy to explain. 

"Harry," she murmured, the call coming out messy and smeared against his mouth. 

"I've got you, remember?" he soothed, "All mine." 

Surging forward, (Y/N)'s kiss was desperate against his own, the tip of his nose grazing her cheek. "All yours," she cemented. 

Between her legs, Harry could feel the heat through the layer of her shorts and his sweats. His hands on the curve of her waist pulsed like the shot that went down his spine as he mind wandered a little too far, his imagination slipping under the waistband of her shorts. 

"Are y'sweet everywhere, peach?" he asked, his alluring words skipping over her tongue.

A beat passed as (Y/N) opted to instead keep kissing him instead of giving any kind of answer. "What do you mean?" she breathlessly asked, sounding dazed. 

A smug smile tipped the corners of his mouth. A heady rock of his hips was delivered against her own. "You know what I mean," he drawled, "Are you sweet everywhere?" 

Having drawn away just enough to match her eyes, he saw the way they rolled to the back of her head. Her grip on his hair and the vice of her thighs around his hips had him sinking with her as she melted into the mattress. 

Grazing the tip of his nose over the curve of her warmed cheek, Harry let her cling to him. "Do y'want me to check?"  he asked, lips brushing over her skin, "Can I, peach?" 

(Y/N) eagerly nodded her head to his proposal. "Yes, yes, please." 

Pulling away, (Y/N)'s grip loosened on his hair despite Harry knowing that was the last thing she wanted to do. But, he had another proposition for her. He needed to see her when he asked. 

"Can y'do something for me, then?" he said, their hips still nestled together as he hovered above her with elbows planted on either side of (Y/N)'s head. 

It was an automatic response the way she immediately agreed, no hesitation. "I can do that for you," she said, no knowledge of what she was agreeing to. 

Dipping down and pressing a kiss to her chin, Harry couldn't help but to breathe out a laugh across her skin. "Y'don't even know what I want, and you're already promising. Thought y'were smart, peachy?" 

(And, she is very smart, he knew that. He just wanted to tease her a little, see if she liked that). 

(Y/N)'s breathing hitched in her throat, but she didn't make any move to deny him. He couldn't blame her, either. If she had said something similar, even if they were just in her kitchen, he would have agreed the same way. Devotion was the only way he could describe it. 

Carefully balancing his weight, Harry used one of his hands and collected her wrists from where she had her hands buried in his hair. The length of his fingers acted as manacles as he pulled her hands away from his form. She looked at him with wide eyes, a pinch appearing in the middle when he guided her hands to lay above her head. 

"I want you to keep these here," he instructed, pushing her hands into the pillow as, "Is that something y'can do for me?" 

Gazing up at him, head and now hands cushioned with plush peach pillows, (Y/N) couldn't help the pout that pushed out her bottom lip. "But—I don't get to touch you?" 

Looking at her like this, hearing those words wrapped in the delicate thrall of her breathy voice, Harry was almost surprised that a halo wasn't crooked on her head. He had expected flowers to sprout around her, a peach tree to shade them in the privacy of her bedroom. This gingerbread house should have even been a castle as far as he was concerned. She was too much to be just a baker in a small town; there had to be a secret stash of angel wings somewhere or a small country searching for a lost princess. 

"You will," he soothed her, his thumb sweeping across the bone of her wrist, "I jus' want you to do this for me first. Is that alright? Can y'keep your promise?" 

Stretching her fingers, (Y/N) was able to curl them around Harry's just enough. "I can. For you," she murmured to him, glittering gaze stitched to his features. 

A lopsided smile pulled at Harry's lips, only a single dimple pressing into his cheek. "I knew you could, peach. You're so good, huh," he praised. 

(Y/N) features bloomed into a fruit-sweet smile. "Kiss?" 

Harry didn't hesitate before he was pressing his lips to hers, a warm kiss over her already-swollen mouth. (Y/N) happily sunk into the contact, her arms going lax under his hold. Skating down the length of her arms and down her body, Harry allowed his palms to luxuriate in the feel of her form. 

While she could never be anything but a good distraction, Harry could now be acutely aware of every shift of her body, everything the curves of her form could offer. He was no longer muddling through how good it felt to be touched by her, how she made his skin come alive with every brush of her fingertips. He could commemorate every swath of skin, every cave and hill, everything that made up his safe place. He felt starved for her; he couldn't get enough, feel enough, touch enough. 

This was worship to him. She was the only deity he could devote his life to, be a dedicated follower of. 

"I love you," he told her, his brows dipping into a furrow as he sealed the words across her kiss. 

"I love you, too, Harry." 

His heart fluttered at the reciprocation. His hand stationed by her head twisted to bury itself among the strands of her messy hair, his fingertip tenderly grazing her scalp. The other was traveling down her body, tucking under the length of her sleep shirt. The loose legs of her shorts was his goal, the pads of his fingers brushing the soft skin of her inner thighs. She was wide open for him with his hips keeping her from getting shy and closing up on him. 

The higher up he grazed, Harry awaited to be stopped by the hem of a pair of panties, his access to her skin cut off. But, that never came. 

Instead, he was beaconed in by the heat that he had felt against his cock, now luring in his touch. Sticky wetness greeted him first, the slick having dipped over the crease between her thigh and her pussy. She was messy and warm, just for him, 

(Y/N) shuddered at the first pass of his fingertip through her slit, her lips stuttering over his own. He couldn't help the smug smile that tugged at his lips at her reaction, especially when he chanced a graze of his thumb over her clit. Mouth parting, a tiny whimper fell from her lips. Harry swallowed the sound, allowing his slicked fingers to play through her wetness, brushing her clit and parting her slit until he felt her pulsing opening. Every touch made her that much stickier, he felt, every reason to keep him there, keep him touching. 

Once his digits were coated, Harry tugged his hand out from between her legs, following the path through the leg of her shorts. He could feel her eyes trained on him as he brought his index finger to his mouth, the pad grazing the pillow of his bottom lip with a shine being left behind. 

Harry couldn't help but to make a show of it when the first taste hit it tongue. His eyes fluttered closed on instinct, a moan rumbling through his chest. He could only imagine what kind of reaction he would have if he was ever given the chance to lick directly from the source. His eyelids tugged open to find her watching him with blown pupils, her cheeks warm and lips swollen. Her hands were still obediently placed above her head, but the fisting of the pillow case showed just how much effort was being put into the action. 

"So sweet, peach," he crooned, pulling his shining finger from his mouth, "Jus' like I thought you'd be." He watched as her mouth parted, eyes trained on his hand. In the minimal light, a glaze could still be seen on his middle finger. 

"Wanna try?" 

Her reaction came in the form of an eager nod, her lips parting that much more as if an invitation. 

There was no reason to keep her waiting as he gave in, slipping the slick digit between her open lips. The pad pressed against the dip of her tongue as she got her first taste, lips closing around him. She sucked with a gentle lave of her tongue over her skin, cleaning him off. 

"Sweet, right?" he pressed, flexing his finger in her mouth with a press against the flat of her buds. 

"Uh-huh," (Y/N) answered, mouth full and eyes half-lidded. 

Slowly withdrawing from her mouth, a soft pop sounded in the room when Harry's spit-slick digit was freed. A thread of salvia clung to the tip of his finger, tying him to her for a lingering moment before the string bowed and broke. 

"Miss me touching you?" Harry asked, noting the squeeze of her thighs around his hips. Her response came in a soft nod, a heavy breath fanning between them. He gave her a smug smile, dipping closer to her as his hand retraced a path between her legs, "I shouldn't keep such a sweet girl waiting then, should I?" 

"No, please," she whined out, instinctively moving to touch him before she reminded herself to keep her hands just where they were. 

Harry didn't linger too long this time, giving into her pleas by slipping his hand inside her shorts as soon as he could maneuver the fabric out of the way. His tender touch parted her slit, feeling just how slick she'd gotten when she gave herself a taste. The middle of her shorts were almost drenched, a damp spot beginning to show on the outside. He traced every dip and curve, feeling her clit in teasing circles before he was playing through her wetness. Without her hands, (Y/N) used her nose to nudge at Harry's jaw, catching his attention and drawing him into a messy kiss. A shiver had her thighs aching to be closed when he nudged at her opening. 

Flattening his slicked hand against her hip under her pajamas, (Y/N) keened at the loss of his contact. His hips blocked her legs from closing and attempting to trap his hand between. 

"Want me inside?" he asked her, his words being sipped through her puckered lips. 

Shifting her hips under the palm of his hand, she bucked against him, urging his touch to return nowhere she needed him. "Please," she had whined again. 

As much as he liked playing with her, he couldn't find any good reason to deny her. He was greedy for it too, anyway. 

His hand swept across the small of her stomach until he slipped through her wetness once more. In a moment he was sinking into her, his middle finger parting the clench of her walls. She was warm and wet, snug and clinging to him before he'd even given her anything to properly cling to. 

Lips parting, (Y/N) made to moan out his name, but Harry cut her off with a smear of his lips against her own. He swallowed down her whining, instead giving her that much more to focus on, more of his skin against hers to take her mind somewhere else. 

She was restless against the sheets, her hands staying steady against the pillow despite how much he could feel her aching to reach for him. 

"Keep them up, (Y/N)," he crooned, "Be good, peach. Like you promised." 

"I promise, I promise, I promise," she babbled, breathless and just a step above incoherent. 

(Y/N) was rewarded with a heavy kiss to her lips, the pad of his thumb pressing against her budding clit. Drawing his finger out of her, Harry felt every ridge and crevice, her walls molding around him. Her mouth against his melted, sticky and sweet, while her thighs around his hips tightened. Her body clung and bowed, different reactions pulling from everywhere. 

The rhythm Harry created with his hand, finger sinking in a pulling out of her with brushes placed on her clit, was more than a reward for her, but was becoming a slight punishment to him. His imagination ran too fast and too wild thinking about what it would feel like to replace his hand with his cock between her legs. He could feel every rock of his hand against her, every rear back was now pressing against his bulge in a teasing pressure that disappeared too soon. 

God, he wasn't going to last. He knew that from the second she had deepened their kissing, but now with her splayed underneath him and the heat of her pussy wrapped around his finger, that fact needed no other reassurance. Even the lack of her touch was enough to get his cock throbbing, knowing that she wasn't touching him all because he asked her to. There were no bindings keeping her away, all it was was a murmured request, and she was pliant for him. 

If she bucked her hips just right, he feared he would be getting out of her bed with stained sweats.

"Harry," she whined against his lips, mouth falling open as she threw her head back into the pillow. He had curled his finger inside of her, pressing against his walls, finding the sweet spot inside her that gave way under the pressure. 

More than anything, hearing her call out his name was almost enough to have him letting go already. This was one of those moments he still couldn't believe was properly happening; she was letting him touch her and she loved it enough so that she was slicking down his palm, bucking against him, and calling out his name like a prayer. This was better than any fantasy, any video, any previous encounter and he still hadn't even gleaned sight of her properly naked between the sheets. 

"More, p-please," she sighed, her voice carrying between them humid and heavy, "I need you, Harry." 

The front of his sweats soaked the first blurts of precum that leaked from his tip as Harry's stomach tightened at the sound of her plea. He was hard enough already, his muscles bunched and hard, cock heavy and balls tight. Turning his head, his breathing came in heavy blows as he smeared his lips across her cheek. He couldn't concentrate like this, not enough to give her a proper kiss. 

Harry focused on giving her everything she wanted, pushing another finger inside her. The widened girth had her back arching, pressing her chest against his with soft breasts and a hammering heart. He thrusted them in at a lingering pace, long and deep with the reach of his fingertips against her farthest wall. 

As much as he quelled that whiny part of her, there was still more she needed from him she could tell. She kept her hands cemented above her head, even with her squirming and wriggling.

"Please, please," she whined to him, voice dipping and dazed. 

"What do y'want, peach? Tell me how to help you," he murmured, lips dragging over her skin. 

Her response came out bubbling and rushed, without a thought, "I want to touch you, please, please. I promised I would keep them up, but-but I don't want to anymore." 

They both knew there was nothing holding her back from doing just that, but she wanted to keep her promise to him. She wanted to wait until he told her it was okay, that she had fulfilled her promise. That was all he needed to hear. 

"C'mon then, peach," he crooned, sinking heavily into her with his cock pressed against his thrusting hand. "Touch me." 

Almost immediately, he could keep her touch skating over him. Fingers raked through his hair, swirling through the curls and scratching down his shoulders. Her fingertips made dents in his skin as she dragged them down his chest, feeling every cubed muscle and hard angle that made up his heavy body. He knew there were lines of scars she could feel through the thin material of his shirt, new and old, but just like when he had tugged her into the shower with him, she didn't pay them anymore. She focused on him only, none of the battered packaging;. 

Soon enough, her fingers hooked on the waistband of his sweats. He was sure a dark stain was now sported across the front—whether it was from her or him, was to be decided. 

"Can I touch you here, Harry? I want you to cum with me," she babbled, Harry feeling her voice in her throat against his mouth as much as he heard her. 

A heavy, lopsided smile had his kiss going messy against her neck. "I can't say no to you when you've been so good, can I peach?" 

That was all the permission she needed to slip her hand underneath the elastic waist of his sweatpants. Her fingers dipped through the swatch of curls around his base, a shiver heading up his spine at the touch of another over his skin. She didn't tease him the way he seemed so fond to do, her hand forming a fist around his cock with a heady grip. Precum had dripped down, making him slick enough to allow a few cursory pumps over his shaft. 

Harry's own rhythm, his hand still tucked inside her shorts, stuttered. His mouth parted in a breathy moan, the sound painted across the column of her throat and sinking into her pores. He kept his thumb circling her clit, but there was nothing else he could maintain when he felt her sweep her hand up his length, thumb twirling around his head and collecting pearls of precum. She slicked his length with the beads, giving a wet sound to every stroke of her hand. 

A real rumbling moan left his mouth then, (Y/N) using her free hand to cradle his cheek in her palm. She guided him into a kiss with her, taking on the taste of his pleasure just like he had before. Harry's eyes squeezed shut as he began to curate a messy rhythm inside her shorts, fingers sinking in and out, stretching her with every pass of his knuckles. 

Tucked in cherry-scented, peach colored sheets, a fantasy Harry hadn't even known he had, came to life. His hand was soaked between her thighs, slick with every gush of wetness he was able to draw out of her with a puffy clit at the top of her slit. (Y/N)had her own hand tucked inside his sweats, taking advantage of the kind of reaction only she could have drawn out him, his length heavy and hard with enough precum to wet her hand and the front of his sweats. 

In some ways, it felt juvenile, getting handsy the way they were. It was as if they were hiding from a dormmate, or hoping a parent didn't walk in on them after curfew. But, in many more ways, it was the hottest thing Harry had ever experienced. He just hoped the experience would last a bit longer than a handful of minutes. 

(Y/N)'s bedroom was filled with the sound of their mouths parting and meeting, slick and messy, skin slapping and wet pumps. Harry's thighs felt tight, bunched muscles in his stomach hardening the bricks of his abs. He knew he had to have been pulsing in her hand. 

"G-Gonna cum, peach?" he breathed against her mouth, "Said y'wanted to cum with me, right?" 

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she bubbled out, mouth parting against his with the tip of her nose grazing his, "Are you—oh my god, Harry—Are you almost?" 

She pushed her thumb over the crown of his cock, the tip pressing into his sensitive slit and pulling more pearly precum out. Harry had to draw away from her messy kissing then, his breathing too short and head too scattered to concentrate. He wanted to make sure he could make her cum with him, if not soon after. 

Dropping his head to her chest, bridge of his nose gliding over her collarbones as he nodded absently. "I love you, (Y/N). I love you, so much, okay?" he breathed out, the declarations decorating her skin in honey thick drips. 

His head was watery and muddy when her own strokes increased the match the pace of his over, the strength of her fist causing him to twitch in her hand. He made a point to find that spongy spot inside her with every pass of his fingers through her walls. He needed her shuddering and aching, eyes scrunched and throat filled with his name. 

"I-I love you, too," she whimpered, pressing her lips against the top of his head. 

Silly enough but true to the sensitive mess he'd become, that was all Harry needed to hear before he could feel himself emptying into her hand. Ropes of cum landed on his sweats, the fabric dampening and sticking to (Y/N)'s hand. She worked him through the throes, allowing Harry to sink into her, hand stuttering in her shorts, with his breath coming out lingering and humid over her skin. There was no word he could form, nothing he could say, nothing that could come out as more than a jumble of noises. He was too lost in space then, experiencing every pull of her hand over his length, thumbing at the tip of his cock and sliding through the mess he made just for her. 

Instinctively, Harry sunk his teeth into a gentle bite on her collarbone. If he couldn't kiss her, he needs to do something, he thought. This was the only thing that his brain could process, the only thing that would claim her in the same way as a deep kiss could do. 

As his peak began to wane, teeth nipping at the ledge of her collarbone, Harry felt (Y/N)'s thighs begin to fight to close around his hand over her center. She was pulsing now, her heart rate picking up with her hand stilling at his base. In his hair, her other hand fisted his curls, his scalp stinging. Every thrust of Harry's fingers was slowed with the way her walls shuddered around him, sucking him in and clinging to him until he stopped trying to leave her. 

Wetness gushed around his digits, leaking out and wetting his palm. His thumb was heavy over her clit, matching the pace of his fingers pressing into the delicate spot inside her. 

She was cumming for him, falling into him without a care. Harry's cock twitched, a lone spurt of cum pushing out, as he imagined what it would have been like to experience her orgasm with more than just his hand down her pants. If it was this intense, enough so that he almost felt as if he were experiencing aftershocks, he couldn't even begin to think about the pleasure that they could experience together properly. 

But, Harry had a feeling he had a lot of time to try many different things with her. 

The come down came slowly. Lazy touches were shared between them, nothing more than an excuse to feel one another. Soon enough, (Y/N) gave him an oversensitive whine. With a sleepy laugh, Harry slipped his hand out from her shorts, fingers wrapping around her wrist to follow suit.

(Y/N) laid heavily against the mattress, sheets rumpled around her with pillows haphazard around their heads. She was weightless just as much as she was planted in the moment.

A beat passed, Harry sitting up between her legs with his knees folded, that (Y/N) turned her glistening hand. Her eyes met his a moment later, a quiet pout puffing her lips. 

"Sticky," she said, a limp whine to her voice. 

Harry couldn't help himself, he had to dip down and press a kiss to her swollen lips. "I know, peach," he laughed, taking her wrist with his clean hand, "Let's get cleaned up." 

Pliantly, (Y/N) followed right after him to her bathroom. He used his forearm to flick the lights on, sure his peach wouldn't love the idea of her orgasm being slicked around her house. 

"Go ahead and wash your hands," he instructed her, pulling her boneless form to the sink. 

(Y/N)'s movements were lethargic as she followed his directions. Pumps of sweet smelling soap scented the bathroom, Harry watching from where he stood behind her in the mirror. More than once, she met his gaze, hands under the warm water though it didn't rival the way her blood fluttered under her skin. She gave him a shy smile every time before she was directing her attention back on her hands. He thought it was sweet the way she was bashful now, even after what had just occurred in her room. 

Harry kissed her shoulder when it was his turn to clean up, replacing her spot at the sink. The silence was a change to the mess of sound that had filled her bedroom, but it was nice to stand there with her, washing up so casually after something Harry was sure was going to live in his brain for quite some time. 

Drying his hands, he bumped (Y/N)'s hip, a breathy laugh falling from her lips as she gazed up at him. "I'll pick out some clothes for us to change into," he told her, "Did y'want to clean up any more?" 

"Yeah, I think so," she said softly, "You know where my pajama stuff is, right?" 

"Mhm," he hummed, a quiet smile on his lips, "I'll pick something cute out for you, don't worry." 

(Y/N) only laughed at him, moving around him before pushing him back to her room. With the door shut behind him, Harry left his smile to be seen by the floor. Making his way to his dresser, he felt incredibly light. 

Finding the right drawer, Harry rifled through big t-shirts and soft pants to find a new pair of shorts for her to change into, a pair of panties being plucked out after from a different drawer. His own clothes were confined to a duffle bag that only left her room to be washed at his before returning with another set of clothing to get him through the week. (As much as he reveled in the feeling of having a home, a place just for him, he loved being at (Y/N) just a hair more. She liked having him there, too, she'd told him). 

Placing her curated clothes out on her bed, he moved to change out of his sweats and into a pair of briefs he had pulled from his bag. Just as the waistband settled over his hips, (Y/N) emerged from the bathroom, light being flicked off behind her. She held her dirty shorts in her other hand, being left bare under the hem of her t-shirt. If not for the fact Harry was halfway sure he was going to be drained out for the next week, he would have gotten hard again, he was sure. 

"Better?" he asked, a light smile on his lips.

"Much," she sighed, her own expression dreamy as her gaze landed on the clothing left out for her. 

"Those okay?" he asked, rounding the end of her bed to stand beside her. 

Her eyes lingered on him for that much longer, a smile blooming across her features. "They're perfect. Thank you." 

It was so comfortable the way she stepped towards him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she took the clothing. She redressed with him right there, boundaries he thought would always be in place for someone like him, dissolving even without the promise of (Y/N) gaining something from his touch. 

He didn't even realize he was still smiling until he was sharing a pillow with her once more. It felt normal to him. 

He only noticed when (Y/N) finally said: "I like it when you smile." 

Harry nestled that much closer to her over her rumpled sheets, their "sides" merging until there was little space left between them. "Yeah?" he breathed, smile widening without permission. 

(Y/N) nodded her head, lifting her hand out from under her covers to prod at a dimple denting his cheek. "Yeah. I feel like I never saw you do it before, and now it's like you're smiling all the time since we came home." 

He couldn't even try to fend off his grin then. He loved smiling for her; every one of these curls was for her, because of her. 

"It’s all for you," he murmured. 

(Y/N) simply kissed him.

—————

"Is this the place?" 

Harry nodded from where he sat in the passenger seat. "Mhmm. I think we need to check in but after that, 's up to us on what to do." 

Shifting the gears into park once she was boxed within the white lines, (Y/N) gave him a patient smile. "Ready, then?" 

This time, his shaky hands were from giddy nerves instead of bottled up emotions. "I think so, yeah." 

By the time they were out of her car and pushing through the front doors of the sanctuary, Harry had (Y/N)'s hand bundled in his own. He needed that anchor. He couldn't do this without her. 

"Hi, how are you two?" The receptionist up front greeted them, hair messy on the top of their head with a fitted t-shirt on, sporting the company logo. 

"We're good, thank you," (Y/N) spoke for them, "We don't have an appointment today, but we were hoping we could browse around, if that's alright." 

The receptionist brightened from behind her makeshift desk, pulling a clipboard of paperwork out from a compartment in the podium before her. "Perfect! Was there anything in particular we were wanting to take a look at today?"

Harry squeezed (Y/N)'s hand. He piped up, "I—uh—I wanted to get a cat today. If y'had any." 

A bubbly grin stretched the receptionist's lips. "I'm so happy you said that! We actually took in a few new girls this weekend, so you came on the best day!" 

Before being allowed back, they were handed a clipboard with a set of forms to fill out. (Y/N) sat steadily beside him as he filled out all his info with a shaky hand (he was too excited and nervous to sit still and fill out paperwork), her own address and contact information filling in the second set of lines. 

As soon as they handed back the info, a quick glance being delivered over the form, they were led back with the receptionist—Molly, she introduced herself as—acting as their guide. At the end of the hall, they stopped in front of a closed door with a sign pasted saying "Kittens at play! Be careful when opening!" alongside a simply drawn cat head. 

Molly led them inside, the area filled with various cat toys and posts. Soft beds were littered about, a clean pee pad pressed in the back. Though, the room was void of any kittens for the time being. 

"So, we usually start with letting in our adult guests first before we bring in any of the babies. Unless, you had a preference anyway?" Molly started, her eyes glancing up at Harry from where she was filling out another sheet of paper tacked to the wall. 

"No, that's okay," he said, a tight smile on his lips. It was still a bit hard to give much away to anyone that wasn't (Y/N), but he was learning.

"Perfect!" Molly beamed, moving towards a door stationed on the opposite side of where they entered through, "I'm going to go help get everyone gathered, then they'll be in after. I'll leave you guys to bond with them and see if anyone stands, but just let me know if you need anything. I'll be by to check in and see if you're ready for the kittens soon." 

With that, Molly left with a beaming smile. (Y/N) pulled him to a small ledge that acted as a bench in the room, the cliff painted a matching white to the walls. She allowed him to sit in his quiet, always so patient with him when he knew it was in her nature to give more conversation. 

Soon enough, a sliding cat door was lifted with furry little bodies bursting through. All of those toys that had been lying limp on the floor were now being batted around or sniffed at, features and glittery strings being plucked and pulled. Claws scraped down scratch posts, chins rubbed across with purrs erupting here and there. The shier varieties were lured in by the plush beds, toes digging into the down as if the cats were kneading bread. 

Harry didn't know where to look first. This was a shelter, so he wasn't surprised to see some of the creatures with bitten ears or mangy tails, some even had a lack of claws that made Harry want to cringe for them. Not all of them were perfect, having made it here from so many different places and lives, but seeing them interact with each other and their environment, they all looked so happy.

"(Y/N), I don't know if this was a good idea," he murmured to her, keeping station on the ledge in the room as he observed. 

"Why not?" she blanched beside him, her features twisting. 

Eyes skipping over all of the stripes and speckles, long hair and other clipped short, Harry's lips thinned. "I want to take all of them." 

(Y/N)'s expression loosened into a bright smile, a peal of laugher mixing in with the padding of soft feet over the linoleum. "I knew you would! I told you this was going to be hard," she teased him, pulsing her hand in his, "But, we'll find one for you. The others will understand." 

The latch to the kitty door was still open, a lingering cat walking through a few moments later. By then, the others were happily lounging and playing, some even daring to inch towards where they sat to get a sniff of the guests. But, the newcomer stuck close to the sides, observing the others more than anything else. Harry's gaze stuck to her. 

Her fur was a dusty black, almost grey in the light, with speckles of white throughout. She had a white little nose, white toes, a patch the shape of a wonky bow on her chest, and a single white ear. Her tail was alert behind her, swaying with every cautious step. Observing her, he saw the way her eyes darted around the room, taking note of every noise, every creature, everything. 

She was scared, Harry could tell. She had to be one of the newer ones brought to the shelter. 

"Go say hi," (Y/N) encouraged him with a whisper, letting go of his hand only to nudge his shoulder. 

Hesitantly, Harry crossed the room, feeling a bit guilty when he distracted any of the babies from their games or their precious sleep. His little black and white friend stopped by a cactus shaped scratch post, the structure short but still taller than her as she sat on the base. He moved carefully, not wanting to alarm her into hiding, or even leaving through the still open hatch. 

Though she didn't skitter away, she still eyed him with a sharp blue gaze. 

"Hi," Harry offered, reaching his hand out for her to sniff. Even with the rest of the noise happening, he could still hear the small huff of her breath as her nose twitched with every intake. 

His new friend didn't back away, even when he grazed his fingers over the top of her head, ears flattening as if to give him room for a bigger pet. Inching closer, Harry happily continued smoothing his hand over her fur every time she leaned into him. More and more, she embraced his touches, showing him just where she would prefer to feel his fingers. She loved a pet under her chin, he learned, but would really accept scratches anywhere as long as he was gentle. 

Soon enough, she was keening into his hand, pushing the top of her head into his palm with a graze of her wet nose against his skin. Faintly, Harry began to hear a purr. It was crackling and low, but genuine. Looking up at him, she even gave him a flutter of her eyes, lingering blinks he had learned in his research was a cat's way of reciprocating affection. 

She was happy with him.

From behind him, he could hear (Y/N) stepping over the others in the room, cooing to some that sniffed at her while apologizing to others she bothered in her trek. He felt the static of her presence at his side though he didn't take his eyes off his furry companion. 

"She's so pretty, H," she told him, a smile in her voice. 

A little emotional, Harry nodded as he kept his gaze concentrated on his cat while he smoothed his hand down her back. "I think she's new." 

"Me too. She seemed a little scared at first, so I figured." (Y/N)'s voice lingered between them, the black and white cat seeming to finally take note of the new person as she cast a glance towards Harry's peach. "I know you like them all, but she's special, huh?" 

"Uh-huh."

(Y/N)'s hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing the cuff as she leant into him. "Do you want to go out and talk to them? See if there's anything they can tell us about her?" 

As much as he would have loved to waste his day laying among all of these little creatures, he didn't want to linger for too long and end up really taking home more than one of them. (There was one that was very interested in his shoes, and if he played with his laces for even a second, Harry was going to break down). 

"Yeah," he answered (Y/N), making the difficult choice of leaving his friend without any pets even when she stretched up to meet his hand. 

He followed (Y/N)'s lead as she pulled him towards the door, knocking on the inside before someone came to help them out without a bunch of critters trying to sneak out after. Molly gave them a beaming smile as she shut the door behind them. 

"Anyone you connected with? Or, are you ready for some of the babies to come in?" 

Harry shook his head, his hand instinctively reaching to pluck for his cuticles until (Y/N) bundled it in her own. "The black and white one, with the white ear and toes—um—, what was her name?" 

Molly brightened further. "That's one of our new girls that came in this past weekend," she started, leaning against the wall behind her, "She was rescued from a house of about five other cats. The owner wasn't taking proper care of them, so a few of them, her included, would go out and try to fend for themselves a lot. She's a little quiet and had a harder time socializing with the others, but we like to think this is her second chance. We never got a real name for her, but we've been calling her Rosemary." 

(Y/N)'s hand tightened around his the second Molly had brought up a second chance. That was all he needed to know about who he'd met back there. 

Glancing at (Y/N), Harry gave her a soft smile before looking to Molly. "I think I'd like to have her, please." 

Molly almost squealed with excitement, her hands clasping together at her waist. "That's wonderful! She seemed to really like you from what we saw on the cameras, I think she's going to be so excited to go home with you!" She started back up the hallway, back to where they were checked in, Molly waving at them to follow over her shoulder. "We just need to go over some paperwork while I let the guys get her all squared away for you to travel, then we'll talk a little bit more about what'll be needed to care for her." 

Taking them up to an office just off from reception, Molly left them for a moment as she went to collect the needed paperwork. 

Sitting beside one another, (Y/N) looked up at him with glimmering eyes. 

"You're going to take such good care of her, Harry," she murmured, her voice a quiet secret for only him. 

Taking in a deep breath, Harry tried to stabilize the rattling in his chest. "Everyone deserves a second chance, right?" 

Scooting that much closer to him, (Y/N) brought their linked hands up to press a kiss to the back of his. 

"Right." 

Harry didn't think before he smiled at her. 

—————

vervain represents healing; forgiving mistakes from the past and staring over

eeeeeek thats it guys! now you know all the things ab rosemary h! thank you so much for sticking w me through his story and sending so much love and support:( this story has been so close to my heart for so long so it makes me so happy you guys have enjoyed how it turned out! lmk what you guys thought and if you have any fun blurbs or think like that please send them in!

[lunarcrystaldraws]

AxoBill (Bill Cipher x The Axolotl) Personal Headcannons cuz I’m am obsessed with these goobers.

TW// Self Harm mention. Lots of angst too.

(This list is subject to grow and change a lot lol just like you and I.)

Bill Cipher (He/They/It)

(Figuring out his real gender would take too much paperwork.)

Fluff:

Would never admit out loud, but he likes to be embraced. It makes him feel more in control of his thoughts and emotions.

“Yeah! I wooed The Frilly Guy Upstairs with my unfathomable charisma and my unique sense of humor! B)”

Was pleasantly surprised at Ax’s sense of humor. The first time they laughed at one of his weird jokes, the sound of their laughter… caught him off guard… and he wanted to hear it more.

He used to call them “Frills” or “Axxy” in a condescending way, but now calls them that affectionately.

Loves to look at Ax’s starry eyes.

He used to find Ax's voice terrifying at first, but soothing later on.

Angst:

He genuinely thought Ax was going to either let him die or revive him just to kill him again. He believes he is unredeemable, and that Ax made a mistake by saving him and letting him live.

Bill doesn't know of Ax’s dark past. Everything involving that time happened before he was even born. As far as he knows, Ax has always been this goody-two-shoes, preachy know-it-all since the beginning.

Prone to self harm when stressed (Ripping out eyelashes, and damaging his eyelids via, scratching, picking, pulling, etc.)

After an especially bad episode, he is uncomfortable by the sight of his own reflection.

Genuinely has no idea how or why The Axolotl fell in love with his headass. He thought at first that Ax was playing a cruel joke on him.

Bill is just extremely cynical. (He is working on it.)

The Axolotl (Any Pronouns)

(Genderless cuz... why would god itself be tied down to the tight constrains of binary gender 'n shit???)

Fluff:

Very physically affectionate and gentle. Likes to hold Bill and to be held.

The only being in the universe patient enough to put up with Bill’s bullshit and witness his healing journey.

The only being in the universe that can see past all of Bill’s lies, bluffs, and manipulation attempts.

“Seriously! What do you even see in that guy?” “He makes me laugh!”

Has a weird sense of humor somewhat similar to Bill’s that could be considered “uncharacteristic” of them.

Calls Bill star-based nicknames. Ex: “My Star,” “My Starlight.”

During their time as “Frilliam,” they witnessed first-hand humanity’s capability to love and cherish an animal companion, especially one that is a gift from a loved one. They think back fondly to their time under Stanford Pines’ care.

Angst:

Is upset by the fact that Bill was terrified of them. Ax doesn’t want to be seen as terrifying at all.

When their chest is exposed in the air, they wrap their arms around it by habit. They have a visceral reaction if someone touches their chest or tries to restrain their limbs.

Understands Bill’s pain quite well.

A very long time ago, they cried so hard, their eyes fell out. They regenerated after.

May or may not has erased their own memories a few times before.

Wants to tell Bill of their past, but doesn’t know if they should.

Had a twin and Had someone they loved dearly. Someone they used to call “Their little bunny.” Ax would do anything to hold them again, even if just one last time. A time wish cannot bring them back.

Bill’s humor and his more harmless shenanigans reminds them of “Their Bunny.”

Their name is actually pronounced a-sho-loht, but they’d rather separate themselves from that name.

Cosmic Immortality… (See: Sucker For Love 2)

Extras:

Bill’s petty insults do not upset Ax. They have better shit to worry about lol.

Ax can speak every language. Their native tongue is Nahuatl but written in the theraprism’s cryptogram alphabet. (Idk what that specific cryptogram is called smh.)

Ax wouldn’t speak Bill’s native tongue (the color code) in front of him.

Bill’s and Ax’s encounter after his deletion was… emotionally charged, specially for Bill.

Ax’s voice is similar to Satan’s from Adventures of Mark Twain, but less sinister sounding. A male and a female voice overlapping each other, so gender ✨️

Ax was unaware of a lot of the things that went on the Therapism. Something or someone found a loophole to The Axolotl’s all seeing eyes.

Ax does NOT like their gills being touched at all. Bill learnt that the hard way.

Ax can also read people's minds but avoids to do so. They find it distasteful. (They still detect lies all the time though.)

@ ing people who need some nourishment lol.

@skyiiskyii @vimzu @bluecroc29

/hj /Ref sorta

I totally did NOT edit this picture after i posted this cringe ❤️

[srvbryn]

i have been in severe luke distress after rereading titans curse. maybe like you could some reassuring luke? bc him and thalia used to have something and now reader and luke are together but not officially and she’s afraid he’s might still like thalia but he doesn’t ?

Luke Castellan. So if you need to be mean (be mean to me)

Luke Castellan X f!reader

Summary: wherein it is impossible to simply forget the past as if it never happened

Warning: none! I'm literally Shakespeare, “I love you”, there's barely any plot because what??, my grammar is veryyy bad

A/n: 😭 Pls I'm running out of ideas and this probably isn't the same as what you request I'm sooo sorry 💔💔

Luke stirred, caught in the vicious grip of a gruesome nightmare, as the night unfolded like a tapestry of sorrow.

Instinctively, you drew him in closer as you tried your hardest to protect him from the sinister figures that prowled in the corners of his disturbed dreams..

"Luke, it's all right. You're safe here," you whispered, your voice a fragile rhythm in the deep silence that enveloped the room.

You felt the tremors going through his body as you held him, they were all evidence of the nightmares that continued to haunt him while he slept.

His eyes revealed a deep-seated agony that defied description in the soft, ethereal glow of the moonlight peeking through the curtains. "The memories of what happened with Thalia follow me everywhere. (Name), She haunts me."

Your voice was like a soft stream trying to wash away the scars of the past, and your heart was aching for him as you continued to murmur words of consolation.

"The past is something we cannot change, but despite everything, we have created something lovely together."

He let out a trembling breath and his voice showed the weakness he rarely showed. "Do you ever think I still have feelings for Thalia?"

Cupping his tear-streaked face, you held his gaze, the depth of your love reflected in your eyes. "Luke, our journey has been marked by pain, but it's also been defined by our healing. I love you for who you are now, not who you were."

The room hung heavy with a somber silence, broken only by the echoes of his sorrow. "I love you too," he admitted, the weight of lingering doubts evident in the sincerity of his confession.

The room seemed to get colder and the shadows darker as you clung to each other in the stillness, showing the scars of the past every second that went by.

You two unintentionally turned into warriors against the approaching darkness in that moving moment; your love was a weak but resolute light trying to mend what the world had broken.

The night lingered, and so did your embrace, a bittersweet refuge against the haunting echoes.

[aventurineswife]

aaaaaa Hello!!! I absolutely love your writing :D

May I request burnt out reader who had a passion for the performing arts (singing or dancing, up to you) but quit when they were much younger with Dan Heng and Jing Yuan? Maybee Reader and character were walking around when they came across a street performance and reader immediately stops and watches while they get all nostalgic and sad and wished they could go back to those times but isn't sure if they can and just goes through it.

Feel free to do this with more characters! Sorry if this request may be a bit much 🥲 Thank you!

“And in the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take”

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Angst, Reflection, Emotional Healing, Self-Doubt, Nostalgia, Quiet Support, Romance (Potential).

Warnings: Mentions of past emotional struggles, Mild existential reflection, Themes of self-doubt and giving up on dreams, Light angst.

A/N: HELLLO!!! 🤭💖 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR LOVING MY WORKS, I APPRECIATE IT!! DON'T WORRY IT'S NOT MUCH!! I ENJOYED IT! ;)

The streets of the city were quiet, with only the gentle hum of distant voices and the rhythmic tap of boots on the cobblestones accompanying the evening air. Dan Heng walked beside you, his usual reserved silence in place, as the two of you made your way through the bustling market district. The lights of nearby shops flickered, illuminating the occasional passerby, and the faint scent of street food filled the air.

You had been quiet for a while, your gaze drifting over the various sights and sounds, until a faint melody caught your ear. It was soft, almost melancholic, yet undeniably familiar. Without thinking, you stopped in your tracks, your heart skipping a beat as a street performer spun in graceful movements, their lithe form dancing with the flow of the music. They twirled, each step measured and light, as if the music itself was guiding their every motion.

Dan Heng halted beside you, his eyes narrowing slightly, sensing a shift in your demeanor. He wasn’t sure what had caused it, but there was something about the way you stood—still, lost in the performance—that made his quiet curiosity stir. He could feel the weight of your sudden melancholy in the air.

You stood there, transfixed, as memories flooded your mind—days long past when you had been part of something similar, when your heart had danced along with the music, and every note had felt like an extension of yourself. Singing. Dancing. Performing. The passions you once had now seemed so distant, buried under the weight of time and life's expectations. You had stepped away from it all, too afraid of failure, too scared of never being good enough. And now, watching the dancer perform, that ache in your chest returned—a sharp pang of longing for something you thought you'd lost forever.

"I used to dance, you know." you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dan Heng glanced at you, his expression as unreadable as ever. He didn’t respond immediately, but the way his sharp gaze lingered on you suggested he was listening intently.

"I was passionate about it... but I gave it up," you continued, almost as if speaking to yourself. "I guess I was too scared. Too... burnt out. I was never going to be as good as everyone else, so I just stopped." You let out a soft sigh, pulling your gaze away from the dancer, focusing on the ground instead. "I don’t know if I could ever go back to it, even if I wanted to."

There was a long pause before Dan Heng spoke, his voice calm yet firm. "Sometimes, it's not about being the best. It's about doing what you love." His words were simple but cut through the noise of your thoughts, their weight carrying more meaning than you expected.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, finding a quiet strength in his steady eyes. Despite his own burdens and the weight of his past, Dan Heng understood something essential about resilience. His own journey of running from his past was, in a way, not unlike yours—both of you had stepped away from what you once cherished, not because you didn't want it, but because you didn’t know how to face it anymore.

“I don’t know if I can," you murmured, the sadness in your heart lingering. "But I can’t seem to forget it, either."

Dan Heng didn’t offer a solution. Instead, he simply stood beside you, the quiet understanding between you both settling like a protective blanket. In that moment, it wasn’t about finding the answers—it was about being present. And in that silent company, you realized maybe it was enough to simply remember. You didn’t need to decide everything right now.

As the music played on, you closed your eyes for a brief moment, letting the melody wash over you, just for a second.

The lanterns hanging from the market stalls cast a soft golden glow over the street, creating a serene atmosphere that contrasted with the usual bustle of the city. Jing Yuan walked leisurely beside you, his expression as calm as ever, though his eyes seemed to take in everything around him, as if calculating every detail of the scene.

"You seem quieter than usual," he remarked, his voice smooth and easy, the tone one of subtle curiosity.

You smiled faintly but didn’t answer immediately. Your thoughts were elsewhere, drifting back to a time when everything seemed simpler, when life had a rhythm and flow that came naturally. As you walked, the sounds of a distant performance drifted toward you—soft notes of music followed by the rhythmic tapping of a dancer’s feet on the pavement. You stopped, almost instinctively, and Jing Yuan, ever observant, followed your gaze.

Before you, a performer swirled in elegant, fluid movements, her body graceful as she danced in time with the music, each step full of passion and life. A pang of nostalgia hit you as you stood frozen, watching the performer’s every move. It was like watching a reflection of your former self—vibrant, alive with energy, and so in tune with the music. A version of you that now seemed so distant, locked away in the past.

Jing Yuan, sensing the shift in your demeanor, slowed his pace, standing just behind you. He was quiet, allowing you the space to reflect, but there was an unmistakable knowing look in his golden eyes.

"I used to perform," you said after a long pause, your voice soft and almost wistful. "Singing... dancing... it was all I ever wanted to do. But... I gave it up. Too much pressure, too many expectations. I was good, but not good enough, I guess." You let out a sigh, feeling the familiar ache in your chest. "Now, I’m not sure I could ever go back. I don’t think I have the strength to try again."

Jing Yuan’s gaze softened, though his expression remained stoic. He stood still for a moment, considering your words, before finally speaking. "It is easy to give up on something when the weight of the world presses down on you," he said, his voice laced with an unexpected tenderness. "But sometimes, the hardest part isn’t starting again. It’s letting yourself be vulnerable enough to want it again."

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze. His words were simple but profound, carrying a wisdom that felt like a quiet nudge toward something you hadn’t allowed yourself to consider. Could you go back? Could you allow yourself to dream again?

Jing Yuan’s lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Whether you choose to pursue it or not, the past doesn’t have to define you. It can simply be a part of who you are."

You looked back at the dancer, the melody drifting on the air, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to remember what it felt like to be fully immersed in something you loved. No promises, no expectations—just the possibility of finding joy once more.

Jing Yuan didn’t push further. He simply stood beside you, his presence as steady as the passing wind, offering nothing more than quiet support. There was no rush, no urgency—just the understanding that, when the time was right, you’d figure it out.

As the performance continued, you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the music fill the space where uncertainty had once been.

[itsjustrosee]

Stranded (Minho x fem!reader (one-shot))

pt. 1, Pt. 2

ok so this is my first time writing any sort of fanfic but I thought I would give it a shot!

Warnings: contains spice and mild cursing

Context: high school au with everyone from the glade plus people from the other mazes like Sonya, Aris, and also Brenda. Minho's on the track team (obviously) and reader is on the debate team. Enemies to lovers

Word count: 4.4k

! I proof read but there might still be spelling mistakes !

You were in your junior year in high school, and you had already gotten a couple months into the school year. It was early October and the weather began to change, becoming slightly colder and colder each day. You could feel a cold gust of wind hit your face as you walked out of your school's double doors. You walked over and lent on one of the pillars your school had built in front of the main entrance as you began to slip your phone out of your pocket.

You only had one new notification from Brenda which read,

'sorry girl I won't be able to pick u up tdy. I got an email a couple of hours ago from my mom saying that I needed to pick her up from work because her car broke down, so I wont be able to work on our social studies project. Sry!'

You honestly didn't bother to read anything after the 'won't be able to pick u up tdy' part. What were you supposed to do now? You didn't have that many other friends you could just text and get them to pick you up. It's not like you were unpopular or didn't have many friends, you actually were quite known around school. It would be relatively hard for someone to hear your name and not know who you were. After all you were head of the student council, captain of the debate team and on your way to being valedictorian next year. So needless to say, you were far from being unpopular. Although you always preferred having a small group of really close friends, though you were friends or friendly, with many other people in your grade.

Unfortunately, you weren't quite close enough with any of your other friends to just text them and ask them for a ride out of the blue.

And almost as if being stranded at school couldn't get any worse, you look at your battery percent and see, oh great, 1 percent. You shut your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a second to curse at yourself for forgetting to charge it last night while you were sleeping.

But you calm yourself, thinking that it'll be fine. You'll get a ride home someway or another, right?

Well you thought wrong.

Right when you look back at your phone screen, its black. You stare at your phone, jaw dropped, continuously clicking at the power button, but to no avail the screen stays pitch black, leaving you to stare at your reflection wondering, 'how the actual fuck did I manage to be this unlucky.'

You tuck your phone back into your bag and you realize you really only have one way of getting home. Walking.

Wow this is just so amazing because of course this happens the day you get out at 5:30 because of a debate competition. Meaning you had to wear black heals and tights, paired with a tight pencil skirt that only went up to your mid-thigh, and a black blazer with a white undershirt that revealed more of your chest than you wanted it to.

Majority of the outfit was borrowed from Brenda, and you had changed into it at the end of school. Giving the clothes you were wearing the whole day to her because you didn't want to carry them around. The plan was for her to bring the bag of your clothes with her as she came to pick you up after your debate comp and drive you both back to your place to work on your project, where you would swap the clothes back.

Was it a semi overcomplicated plan? Yes. It definitely was, and you were now cursing at yourself once again because of it.

However, right as you come to terms painstakingly long and difficult journey you're going to have ahead of you, someone behind you speaks up.

"Hey (Y/N). What are you still doing here?" A familiar voice says, sending shivers down your spine. You could recognize that voice anywhere and you didn't have to turn around knowing that the person behind you was Minho. Godamint of course it was him, the dude who had been picking on you since kindergarten, the dude who you hated, and also the dude who got surprisingly hot over the summer. He was by far the last person you wanted to run into after your day was already totally trashed.

You turn around slowly so you can face him and as you do, you see him towering over you. He looks like he'd recently stepped out of the shower with his wet and slightly towel dried hair. Minho was on the track team and you were aware that on Friday's and during most days of the week, he would stay at school late because of practice. And based off of his hair, you could assume that he showered in the locker room before heading home. You gave yourself another moment before responding, as you look at the grey sweatpants he's wearing as they lay low around his hips, and at the black compression shirt he had on which complimented his physic quite well by it's ability of defining his muscles.

God what were you thinking? You couldn't help but think he was hot. Even though he had made it his mission to annoy you ever since he laid his eyes on you.

"My debate competition just ended." You say dryly while snapping back into reality, shaking off what you were thinking of moments before.

He checks his watch before responding, "Oh right. But didn't that end like ten minutes ago?"

"Yeah.. it did." You confess, realizing that you had stayed here sulking for ten minutes when you could've just accepted your fate and given yourself a head start on walking home. And maybe then, you wouldn't have had to run into this guy.

"why are you still here then?" He asked in a confused tone that lacked little to no concern.

You glare at him for a second but before you can give your embarrassing answer, he speaks again.

"Hey I'm just wondering, no need to get all mad. I just thought that you would've had a ride by now, princess." He says with a grin forming on his face while he puts both of hands up as if he's surrendering. He's clearly trying to do anything he can to get some sort of reaction out of you, and he knew that by using his little nickname he'd made for you at the start of the year, he'd get just that.

"Well actually if you could just shut up for a second then I would've been able to answer you." You snapped at him before continuing, your voice much softer now out of embarrassment, "I um, I don't actually have a ride. Both my parents are out of town for the weekend and Brenda bailed on me so I'm probably just going to walk."

"Really? Dressed like that?" He questions with a chuckle while teasing you and gesturing to your outfit. However he can't help but blush when he see's you dressed the way that you are. Most of the time you tend to wear sweatshirts and baggy clothing, but seeing you in clothing that complimented you curves- wow- It didn't fail to catch Minho off guard.

"Well, what other choice do I have?" You say as your words come out slightly more desperate then intended.

"I could give you a ride if you want." Minho responded, and Minho shocked himself just as much as he had shocked you by saying this.

You and Minho I have seen each other a lot this year because you both actually shared a decent amount of classes together. Although everybody knew him as being super athletic and really popular, he was a lot smarter than people, (a.k.a, you), gave him credit for. And even since you both had known each other since forever, the sudden offer was still odd. Considering how hostile you were to each other obviously.

"I'm not sure. I bet I can just walk home."

"Seriously? You'd probably give up walking home in those heels a mile in." He said with a chuckle, slightly mocking you but you choose to ignore it.

You roll your eyes at him, "Fine." you say with a huff while you both begin walking into the parking lot. "where's your car?"

"Who said I'd be driving you home in a car?" He responds as he tries to fish something out from his sweatpants' pocket, and when he finally pulled out what he was looking for, you see him hold up a key.

You look at him confused until you keep walking with him and see that you're headed towards a black motorcycle.

"Oh absolutely not." You say as you immediately stop in your tracks and Minho walks over a couple more steps and unlocks it.

"Come on it's just a motorcycle."

"Dude are you serious. Do you know how many people die on those things yearly?"

"No, how many?" he asks while looking at you with a smirk, already able to sense your bluff.

"I don't know- but probably a lot!" You answered because of course you don't actually knowing how many deaths motorcycles cause, but you thought it was safe to assume that they caused many.

"Thank you for the offer, but I think I should just start walking home now if I want to make it before it gets dark out." you say while walking past Minho and his stupid motorcycle. But Minho grabs your wrist before you can walk away any further. Feeling his skin on yours sends a jolt of electricity through your body. You turn around to face him and he keeps his hand on your wrist but his grip softens.

"Do you even know the forecast for today? It's supposed to start storming around six, and I don't think you want to get caught walking home in the rain right?" After he says that you look up at the sky and see that it's already being filled up by dark and angry clouds that could start raining down on you and Minho at any second, then you look back at his motorcycle.

Minho takes in your silence and speaks again, "Look, if you don't make your decision in the next five seconds then I'm leaving with or without you alright? I really can't be driving while it storms so I'll need to drop you off as soon as I can if I want to be able to make it home too."

"Alright fine." You say as you sigh, clearly defeated.

Minho leads you back to his motorcycle and sits down, his bag slung over his shoulders and onto his chest rather than on his back so that you can sit behind him. You tell him how to get to your house and you mutter a silent prayer as you sit down behind him, hoping he doesn't notice how far your skirt is riding up your thighs.

You aren't quite sure where to place your hands so you opt to cross them at your chest. Minho adjusts himself and turns his head slightly so you can here him better, "You know, you might want to hold onto me while I drive."

"I think I'll be fine." you snap at him.

"Suit yourself then." He shrugs as he faces forwards and presses on the gas, much faster than you expected.

You let out a yelp and immediately you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer into his back, and you basically cling on to him as if your life depends on it. You dig the side of your head into his back and shut your eyes.

You can already tell he has a wolfish grin spread across his face as he says, "What did I tell you?"

"Yeah, ok whatever I-I get it I should've listened." you blurt out quickly, not trying very hard to disguise the fear in your voice. Minho slows down as he leaves the parking lot of your school and he realizes that he can feel you trembling.

"Hey, hey, its okay. I'll be more careful alright?" He says in a caring tone while he places one of his hands on your knee.

"Just... please go slow Minho." You reply as you hug onto him even tighter.

"I will princess don't worry. I promise I'll get you home safe." He says while thanking god that you can't see how red he's getting. Something about the way you had said his name altered something in his brain chemistry and he would do anything to hear you say it again. And you on the other hand felt that he was being genuine when he said that he'd keep you safe, and it really did sound like he cared. It only took seconds for your face to get as red as a tomato and though you were glad he couldn't see you, you were praying he couldn't feel how hot your cheek was getting on his back.

Your grip on his stayed just as tight and if not tighter for the remainder of the ride home. Although, during every stop you would loosen your grip slightly and Minho would place his hand down by your knee or lower thigh again, rubbing his thumb in circles on your skin which never failed to give you butterflies in your stomach each time he did so.

The silence between the both of you hadn't been awkward at all, if anything, it was quite comforting. Being in each others presence was enough for the both of you. And if anything, the quietness allowed you to think about Minho and how you felt about him now.

Though you didn't really want to admit it, something about the way he was acting towards you now, made you see a very different side of him, and it gave you a reason to like him. But then again this is Minho your talking about. He could have any girl he wanted, practically the entire female population at your school flocked to him. But you are thinking about this as if you don't have boys coming up to you, trying to talk to you at your locker every day. Or like Gally in particular hasn't been begging for you to tutor him since freshman year.

Regardless of the amount of times boys came up to you, you always rejected them, because you had never really felt that way for anyone. Except right now. Because you could practically feel yourself falling harder and harder for Minho every second.

Little did you know that Minho was thinking the exact same way about you, and though he would rather die than admit it to anyone, he's liked you for the longest time.

Do you guys ever remember getting bullied by a guy back in elementary school, and when you told your parents about it they were just like 'oh its just because he has a crush on you!' well that was Minho. Minho was that little boy tormenting you all those years ago because he had the fattest crush on you and just didn't know how to express it. And he never grew out of that habit either. Sure when you guys grew up he would still pick and tease on you but he'd kept getting bolder and bolder, hoping you'd pick up on it one day.

A sudden drop of water on your heads knocked you and Minho out of your thoughts and snapped you back to reality.

"Shit." Minho mumbled under his breath. You finally peaked for head up a bit and opened your eyes to see that he was driving into your neighborhood but it was too late. The light sprinkles of rain soon turned into a downpour after mere seconds. Minho quickly pulled into your drive way and you unbuttoned your blazer and put it over your head to try and keep you at least a little dry until you reached the front door. You got up from your seat and only made it a couple steps forward towards your house until you realized Minho wasn't following you.

"What are you waiting for? Do you want to stay out in the rain and get drenched?" I asked him.

"You don't want me to leave?" He questioned, a bit of hope surged through him, making him think that maybe you didn't hate him as much as he thought.

"Leave? You can't leave now, do you see how hard it's raining? Never mind that, you said that it was going to storm and I can't let you drive home knowing you could just get struck by lightning or some shit." You explain, trying to make it seem as if you didn't care about him, but you definitely did care and you sucked at not making it obvious.

Minho couldn't even respond, he just stared at you, a grin forming at the edge of his lips.

"Can you- stop looking at me like that! Just come inside before I change my mind." You say, turning away and heading straight to the door because you can already feel your cheeks getting red and you don't need to hear Minho's snarky remarks over it.

Minho wouldn't be lying if he said he was a bit flustered too because he hadn't expected you to say what you just said- I mean, inviting him into your house? Minho was absolutely over the fucking moon.

He dashed into the house and got in right after you did, shutting the door behind him. You set down your bag and began taking off your heels before facing Minho. He also dropped his bag and took off his shoes. He looked at you as you cleared your throat.

"Thank you, for um, driving me. Sorry I got kinda freaked out." you say, the redness in your cheeks this time weren't because you were flustered but rather because you were embarrassed. As you looked down, expecting Minho to make fun of you over the way you clung onto him, he takes your chin in his hand and moves it up slightly so that you're now looking at him.

"There's no need to apologize princess."

you just stared at him, too shocked to move because of the contact he'd made with you. Even though you both could've stayed in that position forever, you moved your head to the side, severing the eye contact you and Minho were making, and making him take his hand from your chin.

Immediately Minho began cursing at himself for being so bold. I mean it was amazing enough that you invited him into your house but he totally just ruined it. He just couldn't wait any longer for you, but he got impatient. At least that's what his overthinking ass assumed.

"Minho, I-" you started. You were taken aback by the action but it's not like you didn't like it. In all the years of teasing he had never been that bold or genuine. You couldn't tell if he was still just messing with you for fun.

"No, that was- look I dunno why I did that. I didn't.." He scoffed while looking away.

"Minho look at me." you said while turning your face to look at him again.

He just silently took his hand away from his face and looked at you.

"What's been up with you this year? It's like, you keep teasing me, but then you call me princess and do things like this- It's just- what's your deal? I can't tell if you still hate me, or if you like me or something." You blurt out, way more intensely then you had expected. You couldn't tell if this was just a whole joke or not, like if he really just found pleasure by getting some sort of reaction out of you. Whether that be you getting flustered, or annoyed at him.

"No I don't- I don't hate you at all (Y/N)." He paused while sighing. "This is going to sound stupid but I've liked you since before I can even remember. I just never knew how to tell you, so I just tried to get more bold, and hope that maybe you would catch on, I guess."

You just stared at him with a dumbfounded look on your face, not quite too sure if you were hearing him correctly. But he seemed so sincere, you really wanted to believe he was telling the truth.

"God okay I never should've said anything. I'm sorry, that was all so stupid. I'll leave right when the rain lets up-" Minho barely finished what he was saying as you leaned in and grabbed his shirt, pulling him into you as your lips merged with his.

After a moment of him not reciprocating you pulled away, "I'm sorry I thought-" But before you could say anything else Minho began kissing you again.

You melted into his touch as he slid his arms around your waist and pulled you into him closer. His grip around you was firm as he held onto you as if you could just slip away if he didn't hold on tight enough. You flung your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss between the both of you. It had started out gentle and soft but it only got more and more desperate and passionate as time went on.

"I like you too." You mumbled against his lips between kisses, and at this Minho only became more and more hungry for you. You allowed his tongue to explore every inch of your mouth, and he grew desperate for your taste.

All while holding the kiss he lifted you up by your hips and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he pushed you into a nearby wall in your house.

He kept one of his arms on your waist while the other slid down your shirt and up your back, his cold fingers traced around your spine which only made you arch your back further into him. A slight moan escaped you which only made Minho tighten around his pants. You could feel him harden between your legs, and considering your skirt was far up your thighs by now, and your tights and panties only provided a thin layer of clothing between the both of you. You could feeling yourself throbbing down there as well.

Minho could tell by the way you were fiddling with the hem of his shirt that you were trying to take it off him. Minho pulled away and removed his hands from you and tossed off his shirt, leaving you to stare at his amazing physic.

I mean come on, the guy looked like he had been carved out of stone.

You both took no time at all to crash your lips onto each others again as your hands began to roam all over his chest. He took both of his hands and placed them on your ass in order to keep you propped up on the wall as he continued to pepper your lips with kisses.

He bit against your bottom lip causing you to moan again, but a phones ringtone of the song 'Eye of the Tiger' interrupted you and Minho from continuing.

He murmured a curse to himself and you giggled as he took his phone out of his pocket and answering the call and putting it on speaker. He used one hand to hold his phone as he kept the other on your ass.

You took this as an opportunity to start kissing down Minho's neck, moving down to his collar bone and sucking on it, making sure it would leave a mark. This caused Minho to make a soft groan but since the call was still connecting, the other person wasn't able to hear it.

"Dude where the fuck are you? You were supposed to come over after your practice to help me with our Latin assignment." The very clearly annoyed boy with a British accent questioned. You could tell it was Newt immediately, I mean, not many people have who go to schools in America have British accents.

"I'm sorry I got kind of caught up with something." Minho huffed out. Clearly trying to hide his moans as you continues to leave a trail of kisses and marks along his chest and neck.

"Holy shit you sound like you've just ran a marathon. Wait are you even at home right now?" He asks, this time much more confused then he was before.

"Uh no- I'm not at home right now."

"Then were the fuck are you?"

"At a- friends house."

"Which friends house?" Newt was interrogating Minho as if they were a married couple and Newt caught Minho coming home at 3am smelling of liquor and another women's perfume.

"I'm at (Y/N)'s house.." He said softly, hoping his friend would maybe keep his cool after he said this.

"Hi Newt!" You chime in after leaving several knew hickeys on Minho's neck.

"Jesus Christ I knew it. You've liked her for years! Good job Minho, you finally had the balls to tell her." You hear Newt laugh along with several other people in the background.

"Godamit Newt who else is with you?" Minho says, his face growing redder every second.

"Oh you know, Thomas, Gally, Fry, Alby." He says while trailing off.

Just then you can hear someone grab Newts phone on the other line, "Just letting you know (Y/N) you could do so much better." He says while everyone else with him chuckles, and you can tell it was Gally who said it.

"Oh shut it Gally. Your just mad because she chose me over you. And maybe this way you'll finally get the hint and stop asking her to tutor your dumbass." Minho snaps at him, his protective and jealous tone turning you on way more then you thought.

After Minho says that you can hear everyone on the other line burst out laughing, and even you let out a bit of a laugh afterwards as well.

You can hear Newt take back the phone and say, "Alright we'll leave you to it." as he hangs up the phone.

You look back at Minho as he puts his phone away. "What if I do want to start tutoring Gally?" You say with a smirk as you tilt your head to the side, teasing Minho.

"Oh please. Your mine now princess and I'm not letting Gally, or anyone else for that matter, anywhere near you." He says, and even though he's ginning while he says it, you can tell that he's being completely serious. "Now where were we?"

ok guys this is it!! plz lemme know if u liked it or if theres anything you guys think I should work on/ do better whenever I write these in the future. Also if u guys want to give me any other prompts for me to write, or if yall want a pt. 2 with yk smth a lil more spicy then tell me

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | series masterlist

Hi, and welcome to Bora Ranch!

At Bora Ranch you will rediscover who you are, reconnect with your sister, and your childhood friend, Park Jimin, that will stir old feelings back. There's a lot of ups and downs, a lot of heartbreak, misunderstandings, what ifs, bad timing, but in the end, you will know what truly makes your heart beat, and where your heart's home is.

It's a story that will take you on a heartbreaking journey to find out what love is and the meaning of 'home', coming home and finding love. There's a lot of angst in it, I'd call it HEALING ANGST. Everything will be good in the end! Just have to go through a lot of heartbreak before the sun truly shines. There's a lot of soulmates vibes/undertones in it, and it's a lovestory at it's core. It's very romancey (Why do I suddenly feel like I wrote a YA but with mature language???).

This story is HEAVLY inspired by McLoed's Daughters (both the world/setting/plot), some plot points follow that story, but most of it doesn't.

“It will take some time To find your heart And come back home You could walk for miles Cross every river And find your not alone ‘Cos I'll be there” - From McLeod’s Daughters theme song

🐴 Summary: You’d never thought you’d step foot back at the ranch– a place you used to call home a long time ago. When you are forced to go back, reconcile with your sister and a certain childhood friend that you had long forgotten, will sparks reunite? 🐴 Pairing: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter)*, jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc *I also want to clarify some things about the tags/pairings! Jungkook x reader only happens once, it is crucial for the sake of the plot, but please don't let that stop you from reading it (I take it you want to read it because of Jimin x reader). Jimin x reader is the main couple! 🐴 Characters: female reader (she’s more like an OC, but isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴 AUs: ranch!au, slice of life!au, childhood friends to lovers!au, cowboy!au, soulmate!au 🐴 Genres: smut, humor, fluff, slow burn and angst (yes, it’s got everything lol!) 🐴 Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact! 🐴 Word count: 230k (epilogue excluded) 🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴 Warnings/tag: will be tagged for each individual chapter. But it does contain sexual themes, smut and a lot of sexual tension and a hell of a lot of angst! Like series is an emotional rollercoaster ride, it will leave you both happy, sad, frustrated, mad, angry and oh so in love. All through the series. You have been warned, lol. 🐴 Status: completed 🥳 🐴 Fancy reading on AO3? It is cross-posted there! 🐴 Do you want to see the book cover (there's a teaser too)? [it's here] 🐴 Author’s note: this series is heavily inspired by the TV show McLeod’s Daughters. Some plot points will feel familiar, while others won’t (because I don’t follow that story structure to a tee). But If you love that show that I do, I’m 100% sure you’ll love this story too! Also, I don’t expect people to really be interested in this… this is more of a story about coming home, finding home, finding love and such… and I don’t know if you want to read that sort of thing? But I fucking love it! ✨

Chapter #1 - Inheritance | word count: 8.2k | read → chapter one

Chapter #2 - It’s a Long Road | word count: 9.1k | read → chapter two

Chapter #3 - Sometimes | word count: 11.8k | read → chapter three

Chapter #4 - It Comes to This | word count: 7.5k | read → chapter four

Chapter #5 - Our Home, Our Place | word count: 11k | read → chapter five

Chapter #6 - Wild Horses | word count: 11k | read → chapter six

Chapter #7 - We Got it Wrong | word count: 9.5k | read → chapter seven

Chapter #8 - Love You, Hate You | word count: 9.5k | read → chapter eight

Chapter #9 - Take the Rain Away | word count: 8.2k | read → chapter nine

Chapter #10 - The First Touch | word count: 16.4k | read → chapter ten

Chapter #11 - This Perfect Day | word count: 14.4k | read → chapter eleven

Chapter #12 - Broken Dreams | word count: 14.4k | read → chapter twelve

Chapter #13 - Love Letter | word count: 13.4k | read → chapter thirteen

Chapter #14 - I Wish the Past was Different | word count: 10.5k | read → chapter fourteen

Chapter #15 - Did I Tell You? | word count: 13.7k | read → chapter fifteen

Chapter #16 - The Stranger | word count: 14.1k | read → chapter sixteen

Chapter #17 - Love of Your Life | word count: 13.3k | read → chapter seventeen

Chapter #18 - By My Side | word count: 14.7k | read → chapter eighteen

Chapter #19 - Home [END] | word count: 18.2k | read → chapter nineteen

Chapter #20 - My Heart's Home [Epilogue + Q&A] | word count: 7.4k | read → chapter twenty

Please let me know if you're excited for this??? I'm still writing it, and honestly... I love it! But it's tough to write such a long series without any feedback or knowledge whether it's good or sucks... so.. yeah....

[maiochiruhanabiraaa]

Me After You (Pablo Gavi.)

A/N: This story is based from the song Me After You by Paul Kim. However, 'Me After You' also acknowledges the challenges that come with love. There are moments of misunderstanding and emotional pain, but these are met with a desire to overcome and grow together. It also expresses gratitude for their partner's patience and warmth, which have helped them become a better person. The song concludes with a hopeful note, and asks if their partner is also happy and expresses a desire to continue walking through life together. 😊

Gavi POV:

After I met you, everything changed in ways I couldn't have imagined. It was a fresh autumn day when our paths first crossed at a quaint café downtown. You were sitting by the window, lost in a book, a soft smile playing on your lips.

I remember being struck by how effortlessly beautiful you looked, the way your eyes lit up when you turned towards me as I approached.

"I'm Gavi," I managed to say, feeling a rush of nervous excitement.

You introduced yourself with a warmth that instantly put me at ease, and from that moment, our conversations flowed effortlessly. We talked about everything under the sun—our dreams, our fears, the little joys and sorrows that shaped our days.

It was during those early mornings, sharing breakfast at that same café, that I realized how much I looked forward to seeing you, to hearing your voice fill the air with laughter.

In the dazzling mornings, I found myself waking up with thoughts of you. Your smile became my motivation, your laughter my favorite melody.

Sitting face to face at our table, I'd eagerly ask about your day, hanging onto every word you said. And when you asked about mine, my heart would swell with happiness knowing that you cared.

As time passed, I marveled at how we grew accustomed to each other's quirks and habits. We developed our own inside jokes, our own rhythms that felt perfectly in sync.

I began to understand the depth of my feelings for you—the way I wanted to protect your happiness, to share in your successes, and to comfort you during your lows.

"I love you," I finally confessed one evening under the stars, my voice barely above a whisper. The way your eyes sparkled in response, filled with the same affection and devotion, was all the confirmation I needed.

Just like that peaceful moment, I knew I wanted to be with you forever.

There were challenges, of course. Moments when our words unintentionally caused hurt, or when misunderstandings briefly drove a wedge between us. Those times were agonizing because I couldn't bear the thought of us being distant.

I'd apologize, and you'd forgive, and together we'd reaffirm our commitment to understanding and supporting each other through it all.

"Even now, when I'm anxious," I admitted to you one rainy evening, "I only want to be with you."

We walked through seasons together—hot summers and rainy days, each moment etching itself into the tapestry of our shared journey.

With each passing day, I found myself falling deeper in love with you, cherishing every smile, every touch, every whispered "I love you."

And now, here we are, sitting across from each other, our fingers intertwined. As we gaze into each other's eyes, I think back to that first day at the café and realize how profoundly meeting you has changed my life.

You've embraced and understood my young, sometimes immature mind with a warmth that has healed and nurtured me in ways I never thought possible.

"After I met you," I whisper, my voice filled with gratitude and love, "I've been so incredibly happy."

"And I, too," you reply softly, your eyes reflecting the same depth of emotion.

"I thought about being with you forever the moment I met you."

We sit in comfortable silence for a while, the weight of our shared feelings hanging in the air like a promise.

It's during these quiet moments that I find myself marveling at the journey we've been on together—the highs, the lows, and everything in between.

"Are you happy after meeting me, too?"

you suddenly ask, breaking the silence with a vulnerable honesty that warms my heart.

I take your hand in mine, gently tracing circles on your palm with my thumb.

"More than I could ever express," I reply sincerely.

"You've brought a joy into my life that I didn't know was possible."

You smile, a mixture of relief and adoration spreading across your face.

"I'm sorry that I have more that I couldn't give you," you confess softly.

"I've been selfish and unstable at times."

I shake my head gently, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

"You've given me everything I've ever needed," I assure you.

"Your love, your kindness, your unwavering support—it's more than I could have hoped for."

Your eyes glisten with unshed tears, reflecting the vulnerability of your confession.

"I think I found a perfect love that I've been waiting for a long time," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Because you held me and gave me energy, because you hugged me by being considerate lovingly, after I met you."

I pull you close, wrapping my arms around you in a comforting embrace.

"And I've loved every moment of being loved by you,"

I whisper back, my voice filled with gratitude.

As we sit there, embraced in each other's arms, I realize how lucky I am to have found you. Through the uncertainties and the challenges, our love has grown stronger, our bond deeper.

And in this moment, with your heartbeat against mine, I know that I want to spend forever with you.

"After I met you," I murmur softly against your ear,

"I knew my heart had found its home."

⚽⚽

Years passed, and our love continued to bloom, weaving its way through our lives like a gentle breeze on a summer's day.

The decision to marry came naturally, an unspoken agreement that our hearts had already made long before we voiced it aloud.

Surrounded by our closest friends and family, we stood together under a canopy of flowers, exchanging vows that resonated with the depth of our journey.

Your eyes shimmered with tears of joy as you promised to stand by my side through all that life may bring.

And as I spoke my vows, I felt a profound sense of gratitude knowing that I was promising my forever to the person who had become my everything.

The ceremony was filled with laughter, tears, and moments that seemed to suspend time itself.

In that magical space, we became husband and wife, sealing our union with a kiss that spoke volumes of our love and commitment.

As we danced together for the first time as married partners, I whispered in your ear, "After I met you, I knew my heart had found its home."

You smiled, your hand resting gently on mine, echoing the sentiment that had become the anthem of our love story.

And so, our journey continues, intertwined in a tapestry woven with laughter, tears, and the unwavering certainty that we are exactly where we are meant to be—side by side, hearts entwined, forever grateful for the day our paths crossed in that quaint café downtown.

[hwaightme]

Burning

(masterlist) (taglist)

🔥 pairing: best friend!mingi x gn!reader 🔥 genre: fluff, healing, friends to lovers, slice of life 🔥 summary: down winding roads, through the golden fields and into the shimmering night, you and mingi embark on a journey to live and love once again 🔥 wordcount: 5.5k 🔥 warnings/tags: editing??, language, indie film style, loosely inspired by murakami's 'barn burning' + youth mv, injuries/scabs, band aids/treatment, escapism, restarts, running away, love through hardship, healing, implied trauma, food/eating, reflecting on the past, mingi would do anything for you, arson 🔥 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🔥 a/n: happy birthday to @byuntrash101!! my most wonderful cat, i love you, thank you for every moment and here is to many more <3 hugs to everyone, all reblogs, notes and comments appreciated! 🔥 playlist: the last stop of our pain - hanroro, the setting sun - the poles, bye - car the garden, summer night - jeon jinhee, 14:30 - damons year, silence - sunwoojunga, so life goes on - heo hoy kyung, dear my all - mingginyu

You looked down at your hands, spreading the fingers out and relaxing them again, watching the movement of every line and wrinkle. Band aids bent and took on the shape you commanded; the one in an off-white shade after having taken on the brunt of the physical burdens, - a ring that was wrapped around the middle finger of your right hand was frayed at the edge, having had to through the test of the elements and of haphazard lugging of items in and out of the white car on which you were sitting. The other, skin toned, sturdy and strictly not letting anything dare infect you, hugged the side of the same hand and spread a little to your palm. The markings of a person who ‘could’, and a person who ‘did’. 

Gaze travelling downwards led you to a leather bracelet with a silver charm - a simple accessory, but one that held years of history, meaning and memories that tied you to the original owner. You were never one for big celebrations, having gotten used to treating every day the same as the rest - a uniform, dark reality where you were nothing but a little cog. The only mission you had ever had before this moment was to keep on turning. This bracelet was a promise, and a hope for a new beginning. 

Golden fields and a warm grey sky blending into a hazy blend of yellowish green and burnt sienna. A tired breeze that had long lost its fight reminded you that you could still feel, running through your hair, dancing across your skin. The sweater you had borrowed was much too loose at the shoulders, and thus offered little to no protection from the elements. Nonetheless, the comfort it offered, along with the aroma that had permanently intertwined with the threads of the cotton fabric brought more than enough warmth to your heart, and caused a blush to rise on your cheeks. It was a considerable contrast to your still slightly tear-stained, exhausted eyes around which the signs of last night’s terrors were still remaining. But even then, the despair that had come with the sensation had been washed away by a caring thumb, a loving hand, a single impression that solidified that you were never going to be alone.

You moved to run a finger across the plasters, curious as to how the cuts beneath were healing. Little scars of a warrior. You had fought for your way and for your life and for your right to smile and breathe and enjoy the earthly wonders. The last days before your final decision to escape were somewhat of a whirlwind, tainted by persistent insomnia, demons that haunted you day and night and the yelling of far too many people, projects and parasitic ponderings. Even the things that had been under your control grew minds of their own and searched for ways to destroy you, be it in hiding a mistake in a word, an error in a table or a fiendish administrative problem. Those days were a countdown, until in one last effort to survive, you cried out for salvation and admitted that it was all too much. And in that chaotic flood that was threatening to swallow you whole, one person had been waiting, and before you knew it, you were safe, had someone cheering for you, sharing your anguish.

“Hey don’t do that. We don’t have any band aids left and I’m not about to go Rambo mode and go picking grass to wrap you up,” you turned to follow the sounds of the low, raspy voice, smiling softly as you met your friend’s mildly concerned expression. Black hair, softly tousled; you barely could restrain yourself from reaching out and ruffling those locks. Beauty marks like stars on that wonderful, charming face. Slightly parted lips that appeared to be holding back sagas and everlasting tales. Lips that you could watch move forever.

“It’s fine, Mingi, I was just checking.”

“That was some intense checking you’re doing, refrain from it,” he retorted and crossed his arms while pinching the sleeves of his black knit sweater so as to not let them slide up.

“Says the person who keeps picking at their face like no tomorrow. Without bandages, mind you. At this rate-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll sort myself out, alright?” Mingi winced as his tongue darted to the scabbed over gash on the side of his mouth, making you exhale sharply, bemused. You could sense him taking his words back with a shake of the head. One step back, another, and in a quiet mumble he added: “...at the next rest stop we’ll fuel up the truck, fuel ourselves and maybe get a proper first aid kit.”

“Sounds good.”

Turning one of the many rings on his fingers, your friend could not hold your gaze and resorted to studying the ornate silver patterns and precious embedded stones. It had been the same when he had first offered this way out for you. A man, supposedly tall and impressive in physique, but appearing so small as he stumbled over his words, one idea pouring and drowning another out until they connected like a puzzle and formulated a vision that was somewhat concrete. Though, even if there was no final agreement in his mind, you would have agreed anyway. All that mattered was that each sentence carried a ‘we’. And with that, you were more than happy.

Was it long ago that you had met him? It felt like eternity. You could not imagine any other life, at least not one where you had a chance at happiness. Sure, you had your fights and squabbles. It would be a big lie if you were to say everything was sunshine and rainbows. Both snappy and hot headed at times, you had each said a fair share of things you did not want to say. But it was the awareness and growing from mistakes that had led you to where you were now. You had both walked through some dark times, and ended up in the golden hour, surrounded by an equally glowing expanse of flora, reaping what you two had sowed.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t get it, I know I have the thing on my cheek but… hate to break it to you, you don’t have healing powers,” ever so logical, Mingi was, once again, trying to establish a chain of thought. You had gotten better at explaining your thinking out loud, as did he, but in times where you were particularly wistful, words escaped you.

“I don’t know…”

“As if I do. Are you hungry?”

“I’m not a cat-”

“Then why?” he chuckled, lips automatically stretching into a toothy grin as you chuckled.

“‘Cause I can.”

“Okay then,” a breath escaped you as you stared at his hand, suddenly falling to meet the car’s surface and looked up to see him leaning over, staring intently at you. Through you. Like he could read you. Any courage you had disappeared, and you shook your head in defeat.

“Fine, fine,” how could someone put into words the feeling of wanting to picture an individual in everything and everyone? 

How could you say that even in the grass that surrounded you, in the long winding roads, in the cloudy skies you were glad to be able to see Mingi. It had been a lifetime indeed. A lifetime of seeing him without realising it, a lifetime of looking forward to being together with him and falling apart when you weren’t, and now, when you were side by side with only the sun, moon and empty fields to bear witness, you were scared to blink. Like all this time would disappear. Priceless seconds. Mingi was merciful enough to note a tinge of nervousness, and backed away. It was obvious enough that he did not quite let your reaction go, but neither you nor him were ever ones to push further than necessary and beyond the other’s personal limits. 

“Right, time to get going if we want to make it to the barn by midnight.”

“Okay.”

“Want to ride in the back or-”

“With you,” you did not mean to sound so ambiguous, but thankfully as Mingi was busy opening the door to the driver’s seat, he did not catch on, or courteously did not pry.

“Ah, you’re right. It’ll be getting cold pretty quickly, won’t it?” 

As if you were not wrapped up and huddled in the bunch of blankets, backpacks and crocheted pillows just last night when you were parked at the last rest stop, silently accepting your friend’s reassurance as you mourned a past you were not going to miss. He knew what you were going through, and so he stuck beside you instead of heading for those plasters when he technically could have. 

“A few hours won’t change these little cuts, but they can change you, and I’d rather be here so you’re not alone.”

The phrase resonated in your heart as you took your place beside Mingi, staring out at the windshield. With a quick glance to your left you could just catch his reflection in the glass, and with another tilt, the man himself. His plush lips, the beautiful curve of his nose, how the black-framed glasses that he had fished out of the cupholder between you suited him so well. Focused, he turned the key until a satisfying rumble consumed the vehicle, signifying its awakening. On instinct, Mingi’s arms flew to their respective positions, and he drove out of the improvised parking spot back out to the infinite line of cement - the one sign of civilization that had the ability to assure you that you were indeed going in the right direction. Since Mingi was familiar with this part of the country, however, you would not have minded even a sudden, more wild change in the scenery. 

Choosing to not surf the radio stations in search of something remotely tolerable, you drove to the sound of your musings and let the last of the grey haze wash over you before the sun that was concealed by the thick cloud would inevitably fall into a slumber. For the first time in a while, you could enjoy the quiet without it being interrupted by a cacophony of inner qualms and disturbing rage. You could catch the occasional note from Mingi’s humming - a habit of his that you had grown to love. Every time, it was something unexpected. Be it a tune he was making up on the spot or one that you were familiar with, you never tired of how his thoughts travelled, and were delighted by the soundtrack which he was subconsciously crafting for the life you just so happened to share. Serendipity, writing a future that Mingi was taking you towards.

The idea he had proposed might have been radical, but it was the only one that made sense. Besides, it was not going to cause any harm. At the end of the day, the property belonged to a distant relative, said relative had no use for it, so… the conclusion and final decision basically made itself. The act to mark an entry into being your new self had to be grand, a lot more grand than what you had already done, and Mingi, being a creative mind, of course could be trusted to invent a performance of the century. Just for you.

A dreamlike day turned into an equally surreal evening as you halted at the gas station attached to the last rest stop of your adventure, with Mingi’s call dragging you out of your thoughts. You confirmed to him that you were fine with a quick smile and followed him out of the trusty Dodge. Patiently, you idled about as Mingi unscrewed the opening to the fuel tank and reached for one of the nozzles, rolling a stray piece of gravel under your shoes. Crickets, a myriad of crickets hidden under the cover of nighttime launched into a crescendo of their trill song, so much so that the buzz of the fluorescent lamp that illuminated the lonely station was almost completely drowned out. A light touch on your upper arm alerted you that Mingi was done, and you promptly followed him to the convenience store.

As though by newly found habit, he gravitated towards the bright red canisters lined up by the register, while you gave him a wary glance before ambling towards the ready to eat meals. Soon enough, Mingi joined you, satisfied by his quick perusal, and with a basket in his hand. Without a word, he picked up your favourite snack and was about to toss it in:

“This one, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

It never failed to be amusing how, despite the innumerable occasions when you two had eaten together, Mingi still liked to check with you that your favourite foods were, in fact, still your favourite foods. You had to admit that it was very endearing and comforting to you. Without even considering it, he always gave you room for change, in every way you could imagine. Or maybe you were exaggerating and letting your fantasies speak for themselves. You could not help but dart your eyes at Mingi when he turned his back to you, spotting the two beaded necklaces you had made for him some time ago still being a part of his usual outfit. And so, you wondered, how large was the room for transformation? What could this brand new future of yours include?

“Ah… wait… band aids… should we get that… What was it? Antiseptic-”

“You said a whole kit.”

“Right. Let’s go try and find it… wait what if they don’t stock one?” eyebrows weighed down with doubt, Mingi looked at you like he was about to apologise. You sighed, moving to run a hand down his back. The gesture startled Mingi, but he did not stop you, instead choosing to wait it out and see your intentions. You noticed him lightly biting his lower lip as he stared back at you, perplexed.

“We’ll find the essentials then. It’s not like we are disappearing from society for the rest of time, yeah?”

“Yeah…” had he continued, you swore he would have expressed his wish for what you had joked about to be the case. Luckily, you were pleasantly surprised by the wide selection of items to pick from, and left confident in the remainder of your trip.

In the fluorescence of the small store, and then inside of the parked car as you devoured your pre-made dinner, you were suspended in pure bliss. To your right was your partner in everything, friend or however your silly racing heart wanted to call him. Above you, the stars - a vista worth driving further out from the rest stop for. Propped up on the cushions, this was your definition of heavenly and healing. Colours had regained their vibrancy, and finally, you were no longer too fatigued to notice the intricacy of things that had previously passed you by. Who could have guessed that the packaging of the sandwiches you used to buy before work to throw in the office fridge had changed? And apparently a bit of time ago, too? What else have you been missing? For certain, you had been missing out on times like this, where you could hold a comfortable pause with Mingi, simply enjoying each other’s company while digging into your meals. It was astonishing to think how many breakfasts, lunches and dinners that you could have had with the one person who always believed in you were ripped away from you by obligation and unwanted routine. Not for longer. 

“Mingi.”

“Hm?” he hummed while chewing, eyes widened as he turned towards you. Quickly enough, he swallowed the bite, and waited for you to continue.

“I’m glad… that we can be here like this.”

“Oh… I…” at a loss for words, he let himself swim in your spontaneous confession.

“I am just… happy. Very happy. Thank you. Thank you for being the one who I can trust, thank you for sticking with me through complete and utter chaos, thank you for being you,” the words came naturally, buried under layers of hurt that needed time to evaporate. But now, the ritualistic expedition was wondrous in combating your inner demons, and in turn, let you speak for yourself, for your own feelings rather than those of illusory authority that had previously spoken for and was in charge of your every action, whether you were aware of it or not.

“No biggie. Things get in the way sometimes, but we’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Yes, that we are.”

“It’s going to get even easier soon, just you wait.”

A hand in midair, waiting for you to lift yours and meet it. Confused, you did so automatically, yelping when Mingi moved it closer to himself, and in a swift motion planted a soft, almost shy kiss on the back. He was careful to not put any pressure on the cuts which he had just re-cleaned and covered, along with the miniature wounds that only found themselves under the stinging alcohol solution, but kept on holding onto you, debating whether you would let him stay like this to his heart’s content, or if you would pull away. The tips of his digits reached the bracelet, and you could imagine a thrum of kindred energy reconnecting the item and the man. Shock prevented you from acting rashly, and so you simply read the fire in Mingi’s sparkling eyes, your favourite blaze that helped you out of a chasm, one that you would protect with your entire being until the world collapsed on you. And even then, you would stand up and try again.

Relief was evident in his features, from the curling of his lips to the relaxing of his shoulders. Clearly, an unfathomable pressure was lifted from his exhausted body. Every mile travelled, you were making revelations, it seemed. Venturing into the unknown, you were not quite sure who you were looking at anymore. Of course, you were confident in his name, in his presence, in his significance, but the many roles which he played in your years on this tiny planet left you struggling for words. Who was Mingi to you? Who were you to Mingi? Long gone were the days where you two had been moderately content with a distant and rapidly cooling friendship separated by glass and busy schedules. You were close. So close, that if the recklessness of acting on instinct caught up with you, you would get burned. 

Burning, like your hand despite Mingi having let it float in solitude some time ago to stand up and hop out of the back of the pickup truck. Set ablaze like your heart and soul that were feverishly awaiting a shining dawn. Your tired eyes could only watch your one wish turn the key in the ignition again, determined to help you start over. Could he be your sun? If you were to say anything more than a hollow whisper to the moon, would you fall away and lose him? You were about to bring the fingers of your left hand to run over the other, but you stopped, remembering Mingi’s comedically stern words. Instead, you imagined him pressing his lips against it again, heat rising to your cheeks upon recollection. A quick glance to the driver’s seat, and you could swear you caught the ghost of a smirk dancing across your so-called friend’s face, but chose not to comment so as to not spark a conversation you knew you would not be able to continue. 

“We’ll be there soon. There’s a neat shortcut we can take so it shouldn’t take us more than an hour.”

You nodded, trusting his judgement. Your thoughts were elsewhere, anyways and could not offer many suggestions in terms of the journey. These parts were foreign to you, and your decision-making here was as good as whenever you had a professional point to prove or a dream to follow; both flew out of your hands to be smited. At least in the case of the meandering roads, you had Mingi to shield you, letting you wander in your own mindscape for as long as you needed. The mind was a mysterious place, traversing memories both from years ago and ones that documented your most recent escapades much the same, though, maybe now they were all in brighter hues. The last of what was tying you down was packed and stashed right behind you and Mingi, both in the tiny space between the seats and the back of the cabin as well as in the exposed trunk outside. The monochrome madness stuffed into rucksacks, swaddled in sheets like a crying infant manifesting your prayers for the noise of a prior existence to cease demanding your attention. You were ready to let it all turn to ash, and be reborn.

It was fascinating how quick Mingi was to jump into action. Part of you wondered whether it was due to the times you had helped him, and he wished to somehow repay you. Or was this a genuine devotion? As the road turned into an unruly dirt path, you were certain it was the latter.

‘It’s our journey. I might not know everything that’s going on behind your forehead, and you would not know that about me, but the least we can do is stick through the worst storms.’

The grumbling of the engine turned into a roar as Mingi’s heavy combat boot pushed down even stronger on the accelerator. When people spent enough time together, they were bound to become more and more similar; such was the case with you and him. Parts had been exchanged, parts blended, and it was hard to think of a picture where there was a lack of the other’s presence in some form. Be it in behaviour or in little bits of jewellery. Mingi was driving selfishly, because he was driving for you and for the few breaths of air you had remaining in your lungs after holding up boulders of others’ opportunities at the cost of your own passions. There was experience, there was development, but there was also a need for self-preservation and a necessity to stop for the sake of health and mental clarity, and Mingi was not about to lose you. 

“D’ya want to roll the window down? You…” used to do that when you and him were teens. He did not have to say it. No matter the weather, even if for a few seconds, you wanted to be one with the air, a flightless bird that finally got a chance to glide with the wind, pleasantly lost in the elements. Maybe one day you could return to that same carefree nature. You shook your head.

“It’s a little cold outside.”

“How about this…” while slowing down a little to not lose control of the car, Mingi reached around and behind his seat, fishing for something. Finally, having found what he was looking for, he flashed a triumphant grin and produced his dark grey denim jacket, letting it land on your lap.

You raised an eyebrow, unsure of what your friend was implying. But as soon as the first hint of a breeze hit you and you saw the window start its slow descent under Mingi’s command, a chuckle escaped you. So it was not a question after all, but an encouragement, perhaps even a challenge. Giving in, you pulled the jacket over yourself like a blanket, and stared at the all-knowing constellations that decorated the cosmic expanse - the best reminder of just how small you really were, and to what priceless insignificance your troubles amounted to. In the grand scheme of things, nothing really mattered, and so, you did not see anything as ‘too out of pocket’ anymore. Might as well enjoy life instead of letting it race past you for once.

It was a mystery to you when you fell asleep; you could only recall the ghostly pale silver and ashen blue that spread over the wheat fields and another serene, barely audible serenade hummed by Mingi. But just as quickly as you had drifted into a dreamless slumber, you jolted awake at the sound of your name being repeated once, twice by your best friend. Momentarily lost, you waited for your vision to focus before following the sounds of the truck door clicking shut and of rubber soles hitting gravel by fumbling for the handle. As soon as you opened the salon, you were embraced in full by the omnipresent hum of wildlife and distant rustle of leaves and tall grass, the field at which you stopped having been long abandoned and left barren, with only dirt to present as a fruit of labour.

Stepping onto the soft earth, you could feel the cool dampness beneath your shoes, a tactile reminder of the quiet countryside that surrounded you as far as the eye could see. Mingi, his presence like a comforting shield in the stillness of the night, paused in his search for the tools he had packed. A profound hush settled over the landscape, prompting you to tilt your head and look on further, to spot the target barely a couple hundred metres away. So this was it. The promised sacrifice. The place where the past could finally quit holding on to you and tearing you apart. The abandoned barn loomed ahead like a relic from another universe and a time long gone.

The moonlight painted the barn in ethereal shades, casting a melancholic beauty upon its worn facade. Mingi's eyes held the weight of a thousand untold stories and observations, and in the quiet exchange of glances, you detected a shared understanding – a recognition that you had the right, and more than deserved to forgive yourself, and throw away the hurt you had accumulated over the years with a light heart. He stood beside you, holding onto the sacks that you had stuffed full of items that haunted you, mutely berated you and induced agonising ruminations. Papers, trinkets, utter garbage that you had never been able to throw out on your own, all collected like nightmare capsules and you were more than elated to bid them farewell.

He had not yet taken off his glasses, eager to move onwards and upwards. One of these days you might muster up the courage to tell Mingi just how handsome he was in whatever style he chose, but that was a mission for a more courageous you. From tonight into the myriad of tomorrows. Your partner in self-revolution stretched his arms towards you, gingerly passing the hefty items over and waiting for you to get a better grip. To think that there were clouds of buzzing paranoia and dread attached to either one - suffocating, persistent.

While regarding Mingi’s tranquil resolve, you discovered a sliver of a near-boyish excitement, so characteristic of him before growing pains had changed your relationship and all that came with it, that your heart ached, and a prickly sensation made itself known on the back of your hand where he had left a solitary peck. And yet, he still was not giving up on you. From the pocket of his jeans - appearing to take on the shade of a washed out chrome under the shining skies, Mingi produced a box of matches, and upon leaning closer to the truck, grasped the handle of a stick protruding from a miniature canister. More than enough to carry out the impending transformation. Mingi’s stunning orbs met yours, and without words, he conveyed a mixture of determination and sorrow, a silent promise and cheer for the grand finale.

"Here’s to letting go, and to holding on to the things that make us right," he uttered, his voice carrying the power of a truth that echoed in the night air.

“Then… I’ll be right back.”

“I will be here. Cousin said everything’s unlocked. Put things in places where the fire’ll reach.”

One step. Another. Walk turning into run, you chased after who you wished to become and propelled yourself with unprecedented pride. You could do this. With one quick push the door to the barn creaked open, and you made haste in lining the walls with who you used to be. You could taste ash on your tongue and see the fire in your pupils even though you were consumed by pitch black; here, you had the final say. Upon throwing the sacks into whatever direction, you felt your way back out, and returned to Mingi who, apparently, had the time to reposition the car a little to have the back be facing the barn. With a mischievous grin he greeted you, and pulled you into a quick embrace before giving you a matchstick and the box and leading the two of you to the structure one last time.

This had been an agreement between you - you were the one to light the first flame, and he was the one to do the rest. Though this was a journey of healing, he did not wish for you to delude yourself into a guilt-ridden state. Mingi could bear the brunt of that for you and wear it like a badge of honour. As though patrolling the grounds, he went in a circle around the barn, leaving behind the acrid stench of splattered gasoline. Suddenly, the act felt more and more real. A yelp caught in your throat as Mingi shoved the empty canister inside through a loose wooden board, now only holding onto the unlit torch. Gazed at you, awaiting the monumental execution. 

Trembling just a little, on the third try you managed to light the match, and stepped to the building full of your painful memories. the flames danced in the blackness like whispers of farewell. As you approached the ancient barn with Mingi in toe, the match's glow illuminated the grains of wood that had weathered countless storms. The night seemed to draw its breath, as though it sensed the profound act about to unfold. Outstretching the judgement between your fingers, you hesitated for a fleeting moment. The gravity of the act hung heavy – the acknowledgment that setting fire to the past was a painful necessity for new beginnings. Nevertheless, you were certain. The barn, with its history that you will never learn, became a symbol of surrender, resilience and perseverance. Holding your breath, you dropped the match, but when the result did not satisfy you, you sensed a wave of rage. You wanted more, you needed it all gone from sight and experience. 

“Mingi.”

“Hm?”

“The torch, please.”

“Oh?”

“Please.”

With a silent understanding, Mingi raised the torch, the flames licking eagerly at its edges, and passed it to you. The blade that would slash through it all. The full stop at the end of this turbulent chapter. As you touched the fire to the barn, a crackling symphony echoed through the night. The dry wood, with the base generously coated in gasoline caught quickly, and soon the barn was ablaze, a kaleidoscope of oranges, reds, and yellows against the backdrop of the moonlit fields.

The flames danced with an insatiable hunger, consuming the old wood with a fervour that mirrored the intensity of emotions in the hearts of the witnesses. Shadows flickered and danced on the ground, casting ephemeral images of what once was, each crackle of the fire a poignant reminder of the release happening before your eyes. Mingi turned to you, his eyes reflecting the blaze that mirrored the intensity of his and your emotions. In that poignant moment, the warmth of the fire contrasted with the chill in the night air, echoing the bittersweet nature of letting go.

"We are making room for something new," he whispered before pulling you into a long-awaited kiss, as searing and filled with longing as the soaring flames that illuminated your bodies. The crackling fire served as a cathartic release, and in its glow, you saw promise. As soon as you parted, the two of you rushed to the truck, climbing to take the front seats to admire the masterpiece, not daring to sit apart, holding onto each other through it all.

As the fire continued its dance, the night bore witness to the act of relinquishing the old, a solemn ritual that paved the way to more and more. Together, you and Mingi stood amidst the mesmerising spectacle, your hearts intertwined with the rhythm of the burning, ready to step into the unknown and shape a destiny yet to unfold.

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[itacats]

Rain of Shadows

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: Graphic depictions of torture and psychological trauma, References to past abuse and emotional manipulation, Themes of recovery and the struggle for hope, code name used for reader, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

SUM: We're diving deep into the aftermath of Rain’s torture and their fragile journey toward healing. As Rain battles within their fractured mind, reliving painful memories that blur the line between trauma and survival, TF141 executes a daring rescue mission. Simon becomes the anchor in Rain’s tumultuous world, offering not just physical rescue, but emotional solace.

A/N: This part was incredibly emotional to write, capturing the raw, disorienting experience of trauma and the slow, tentative process of rebuilding trust. Simon’s role as a quiet protector was especially significant—his actions were not just about saving a comrade, but offering the possibility of something more: connection. The transition from isolation to a fragile bond felt poignant and necessary for Rain's journey. 🌙❤️

Rain of Shadows Masterlist

Part 8 - The Fractured Mind

Weeks passed in a haze of torment, each day eroding more of who you were. Bound to a cold metal table beneath glaring fluorescent lights, you existed in a realm where pain blurred the lines of reality. The electric shocks weren’t just a weapon—they were a scalpel, carving into your memories, leaving jagged edges where certainty once lived.

Your mind had become a battlefield of clashing worlds. One moment, you felt the warmth of your father’s embrace, his voice whispering, “I love you.” But in the next breath, that warmth twisted into the grating bark of an unnamed authority figure: “You will take orders!” The slap of a hand echoed in your mind, unbidden, and you remembered a glass of water spilling to the floor. The lesson had been clear: obedience above all, even when it left you broken.

The electric surges wove agony into every memory, unraveling the few threads of solace you had clung to. A mother’s gentle kiss dissolved into the barked commands of a drill sergeant, urging you to run until your legs collapsed. You were a marionette, and the hands pulling the strings were as faceless as they were relentless.

In that prison of pain, the person you had once been disappeared. What remained was a hollow shell, splintered and unrecognizable, trapped in a void where even survival felt like surrender.

Beyond the walls of your captivity, Task Force 141 moved heaven and earth to find you. Price, Soap, Gaz, and Simon carried the weight of your absence like a second skin, each of them unwilling to let you fade into the shadows of war.

“We’ll get them back,” Soap swore, his voice laced with unwavering conviction. “No one gets left behind.”

Simon Riley’s silence was louder than any words. He carried his own scars, a past that mirrored the fractured pieces of your life. He saw himself in you—the broken child forced to grow into a soldier, the one who had never known peace. For Simon, this mission wasn’t just about rescue; it was about redemption.

The day they found you, the air was thick with dread. The stronghold was a labyrinth of despair, each step carrying them closer to the unknown. When they breached the final door, they were met with darkness—a reflection of the chaos within your mind.

You lay strapped to the table, trembling as the aftershocks of torture rippled through your body. Electrodes clung to your temples, their wires snaking across the floor like vines choking the life from a tree. Dirt streaked your face, and your eyes, half-lidded, gazed into nothingness.

Simon was the first to reach you. His voice, steady and firm, broke through the haze: “I’ve got you now.”

Carefully, he removed the nodes from your head, his hands gentle despite the urgency of the moment. Lifting you into his arms, he cradled you as if you were made of glass. The warmth of his embrace was startling, an anchor in the tempest of your fractured mind.

The helicopter blades roared as they carried you away from the nightmare. Simon’s arms remained around you, his presence a shield against the world that had tried to break you. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a rhythm that spoke of survival, of hope.

“We’ve got you,” Price said, his voice carrying over the din. “You’re safe now.”

Soap and Gaz flanked Simon, their faces etched with concern. They weren’t just protecting you from the enemies that lingered outside—they were guarding you against the ghosts that would surely follow.

In Simon’s embrace, the numbness began to thaw. You clung to him, not out of fear, but because his warmth was a light in the endless dark. His touch didn’t just hold you—it tethered you to the present, pulling you from the abyss you had been drowning in for weeks.

As the helicopter rose into the sky, your mind drifted between memories—some real, others fabricated by the agony of your captivity. You saw glimpses of a childhood free of pain, a life untainted by war. They felt distant, like dreams slipping through your fingers, but they were enough to remind you of what could be.

Simon’s arms tightened around you, his voice a quiet promise: “You’re not alone anymore.”

For the first time in years, you believed it. In the chaos of your rescue, a fragile bond had taken root, one forged not in blood but in trust. You had been stripped of everything, but they had given you something you had never thought possible—connection.

As you leaned into Simon’s embrace, you felt the steady pulse of his heartbeat against your own. It wasn’t just the rhythm of life—it was a promise of something more. A future not defined by pain, but by the bonds you had begun to forge.

The world outside the helicopter was still broken, its shadows waiting to swallow you whole. But in that moment, you found strength in the arms of someone who understood your darkness.

And as the first rays of dawn pierced the horizon, you dared to hope. Not for the life you had lost, but for the one you might yet build—a life where scars didn’t define you, but shaped the person you were becoming.

Taglist:

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Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

[deliciousangelfestival]

Harmony of Hearts || Bucky Barnes

Character: Bucky x SHIELD!Reader

Summary: A new SHIELD agent with a troubled past struggles to escape the shadows that haunt her. Understanding her pain, Bucky becomes a steadfast companion, offering support and encouragement.

Theme: Fluff, Slice of Life, Heart-Warming.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my follower @winterwitch-trash. Life's journey often takes us through challenging times. You are stronger than you know, and I believe in your ability to overcome. Keep moving forward, and know that brighter days are ahead. To all my followers and readers, Happy New Year 2024! Wishing you a year filled with joy, success, and beautiful moments. Here's to new beginnings, shared stories, and the coming year's endless possibilities. Cheers to growth, laughter, and the adventures that await. 🎉🌟

Within the bustling corridors of SHIELD, Y/N navigated the ebb and flow of her new life. The camaraderie among her colleagues provided a sense of belonging, yet there were moments when the shadows of her past cast a subtle veil over her determination.

One evening, after a demanding mission, Bucky approached her with a reassuring smile. "You held your ground out there, Y/N. Impressive."

A grateful smile graced her lips. "Thanks, Bucky. But sometimes, it feels like my past is a shadow I can't escape."

Understanding flickered in Bucky's eyes. "I've been down that road. You're not alone now. We're a team."

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N faced challenges that tested her resilience. Bucky, a steadfast presence, offered encouragement and shared his own experiences of triumph over inner demons. He reminded her that strength flourished in vulnerability.

Strolling through the helicarrier's corridors one day, Y/N confessed, "Finding someone who gets it is rare."

Bucky chuckled warmly. "Life surprises you, and you're one of the good surprises, Y/N."

Rooftop conversations became a haven where words flowed freely, carried away by the night breeze. It was during one of these moments that Y/N, vulnerability in her gaze, expressed gratitude.

"You make the load feel lighter," she admitted.

Bucky's response was a reassuring smile. "We're in this together, Y/N."

Struggles persisted, and Y/N found herself wrestling with the demons of her past in moments of solitude. Despite her efforts, the haunting echoes threatened to undermine her progress. Bucky, keenly observant, noticed the subtle changes in her demeanor.

In the helicarrier's kitchen, shared meals became a ritual of companionship. Bucky, sensing her struggles, became an unwavering pillar of support.

However, the weight of her past sometimes proved too heavy, and Y/N's attempts to articulate her pain often ended in frustrated silences.

"You're trying too hard to carry it all alone," Bucky gently remarked one evening, his eyes reflecting concern.

Y/N sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I just don't want to burden anyone."

Bucky shook his head, "We're a team, remember? You're not a burden, Y/N. Let us help carry the load."

Despite her efforts to make it work, Y/N found herself grappling with feelings of inadequacy. In the face of mission failures or personal setbacks, she retreated into a self-imposed isolation, convinced that her struggles were a testament to her perceived shortcomings.

One day, as they walked through the helicarrier's corridors, Bucky gently nudged her shoulder. "You're not defined by your mistakes, Y/N. You're defined by how you rise from them."

His words lingered, sinking into the recesses of her heart. Y/N realized that her journey toward healing wasn't a straight path. It was a maze of ups and downs, and Bucky was there, a guiding presence in the labyrinth of her uncertainties.

As they faced new challenges, Y/N's struggles persisted, but so did Bucky's unwavering support. In moments of doubt, he became the anchor that steadied her, the voice of reason that countered the whispers of self-criticism.

One evening, after a particularly trying mission, Y/N again found herself on the rooftop. Instead of bearing the weight alone this time, she turned to Bucky with a vulnerability that transcended words.

He listened, not with judgment but with a genuine understanding that only someone who had walked a similar path could provide.

"You don't have to have it all figured out, Y/N," Bucky reassured her. "We're all works in progress. And you're doing better than you think."

As the helicarrier hummed with activity around them, Y/N felt a shift within herself. Bucky's support, coupled with the realization that she didn't have to navigate the journey alone, infused her with a renewed sense of resilience.

Their friendship, born amidst struggles, became a testament to the transformative power of genuine connection. Y/N's path, once marked by solitary footsteps, now had the imprint of a companion who shared both the highs and lows.

In their shared moments, amidst laughter and shared vulnerabilities, Y/N discovered that the journey toward healing wasn't a destination to reach but a continual growth process.

With Bucky by her side, the echoes of her past became softer, replaced by the harmonious notes of a friendship that thrived in the face of adversity.

And so, within the heart of SHIELD, where the complexities of duty met the warmth of camaraderie, Y/N and Bucky continued navigating life's intricacies.

Their friendship, a symphony of shared struggles and unwavering support, played on a melody that resonated with the promise of brighter tomorrows.

-end-

Author Note :

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