#also want to see if having both will even out the volume of the sneeze or if it's the 'dominant'(lol)/first recognised trait that affects it

[thediaryofaurora]

General HCs

✧Clockwork (Natalie Ouellette)✧

- Nineteen!

- 6’1, super toned & has a pretty deep tan. Lots of beauty marks!!

- Born in Romania!! Moved to Canada when she was eleven, still has an accent. For the most part she’s fluent in English, but writing/ reading it is a challenge for her.

- Was raised by her mom and stepdad after her and her mom moved to Canada. Her upbringing was pretty rough, her parents and her late father were neglectful and abusive.

- Would never admit it, but she finds a lot of comfort in living at the mansion. She doesn’t get along with everyone, but it’s nice having kind of a found-family.

- Gets along well with Toby, but they’re not into each other. She sees him as a brother she never had, and he almost sees Lyra in her. Kind of thinks Cody’s a loser, but she doesn’t say that to his face. She makes sure to say it loud enough for him to hear though.

- Watches TV on the loudest volume possible.

- Total gym rat. When she needs to bulk she eats wholewheat bread constantly. Adds protein powder to absolutely everything she drinks, even water. Has a drawer and mini fridge in her room dedicated protein bars and stuff like that.

- Her favorite colors are army green and brown.

- Mainly hangs out with Nina. Sometimes Kate hangs out with them, they have sort of a girl group going on. Kate doesn’t really talk, but they can tell she wants to be there. (No they can’t, they just hope she does.)

- LOVES summer. She can’t swim so she lays out and tans almost everyday, also loves going on runs when it’s hot out.

- Super competitive. If she has the opportunity to turn something into a contest, she will.

- Allergic to cats, but completely denies it. She’ll be a sneezing mess and refuses to take any allergy medicine.

- Has Nina sit on her back while she does push ups.

- Takes smoke breaks with Liu and Tim (separately.) They’re really easy for her to get along with. Sometimes Tim can’t understand her accent, so he just nods and pretends he knows what’s going on.

- Has an eyebrow piercing Nina gave her!!

- Drinks raw eggs 🙁.

- Bisexual, but leans towards women. (Specifically Jane and a little bit of Kate.)

- PLAYED FOOTBALL IN HIGHSCHOOL!! She had a bunch of trophies for it, but no one cared enough to put them on display.

- If she’s not with Nina, she’s usually around Jane. They’re both comfortable sitting in each other’s silence or watching a movie together, it’s really the only time either of them give themselves a break.

- Has gotten to know EJ a lot since she tends to overwork herself and sprain her ankle or tear a muscle. Sometimes if most of the mansion is out and she has no one to talk to she’ll stop by the infirmary and talk to him if he’s not busy.

- Super warm blooded. In the winter she leaves her window open to cool down, and has a blanket in her closet that she only uses if her and Jane are watching a movie.

- Is usually sent on missions alone, but the rare times she’s put with someone else it’s usually Rouge. They work crazy well together, but they’re both efficient enough on their own to where they don’t rely on partners.

- DESPISES Jeff. After everything she’s heard from Jane, Liu, and Nina, there’s not a single reason for her to tolerate him. Every time she sees him in the hall she makes sure to give him a dirty look.

- Doesn’t wash her dishes. Ever. Just puts them in the sink without even rinsing them.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<

[immaculatesnz]

Way too many Bai//zhu hcs because... well... just look at my blog

not that loud but definitely desperate + forceful

like, gripping the nearest surface, knocking off his glasses forceful

would probably be spelled with italics iykwim

5/10 volume, 6/10 pitch, 5/10 wetness

breathy buildups that stutter (?) before the release sometimes (I suck at spelling but I hope you know what I mean)

fairly good at holding back but cannot stifle to save his life (but tries anyways, to varying degrees of success ranging from half-stifling to just sounding more repressed)

usually covers with his elbow, but will use the back of his hand if it catches him off guard

fits of 2-3 but can be (read: definitely) more if sick/particularly irritated (which, unfortunately, happens a lot)

longer fits can leave him winded and having to sit down afterwards, and just overall a disheveled mess

always always always excuses himself and blesses others

sneezed in front of a patient once, they blessed him and asked if he was feeling okay, and he got all flustered and was like "It's my job to worry about your health, not the other way around..."

somewhat sensitive to pollen and strong scents, meaning he has to be careful when working with certain herbs

used to be a lot worse, but managed to build tolerance after years of exposure (part of the reason why he's so good at holding back)

idk why but I also feel like he would be sensitive to cold weather

doesn't have the kink but would indulge his partner's if they asked, and would prefer to be the one doing the inducing

hear me out, he'd be really good at it too due to his knowledge of the human body and stuff (also something something him having a den//dro vision means the possibilities are endless)

should go without saying but catches colds easily (and catches them HARD)

(more general sickfic hcs under cut)

the most stubborn patient ever; everyone who cares about him literally has to beg him to rest (I mean come on he's literally the "puts everyone before themselves to the point of self sacrifice" trope)

aside from that, actually isn't that demanding, doesn't really ask for anything (unless it's reassurance that he isn't useless/weak/whatever self-deprecating thing he believes being vulnerable makes him)

so you know the quote about people trying so hard not to be a burden to others that they become one anyways?

that pretty much sums it up

can't decide whether he'd be clingy or just want to be left alone bc both are fun to think about

actually scratch that he would try to get his caretaker to leave and be all "you shouldn't have to see me like this" but would just go with it if they were to hug him

(and would stay hugging them for longer than either of them expect because he's deeply touch starved and doesn't even know it)

at some point would just pass out for the rest of the day and sleep off the whole thing

I just need to see someone care about him the way he cares about others is that too much to ask?

as you can see I totally got carried away but yeah I hope this was a good enough first contribution to the fandom

[goldenempyrean]

“I think you caught my cold…” pairing Scarlet/reader

Let's Go Home

〚 Notes - This was super fun to write since I've had this req for a while :) Hopefully you enjoy :D 〛

〚 Summary - Scarlett's sick at a movie preimere meaning it's up to you to take care of her - even if it does mean going home early. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1200 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

“I think you caught my cold sweetie.” You whispered softly as Scarlett turned away from the crowd of cameras to muffle yet another sneeze. 

Now it wasn’t obvious yet, but her eyes were a little watery, and the skin beneath her reddish nose quivered a little as she sniffled and dabbed at it with a crumpled tissue, “There’s not exactly much that we can do about it though,” She whispered, clearing her throat a little, “We need to be here.” 

 Well, that was true. The pair of you were currently walking down the red carpet for the premiere of your latest movie which you’d both played in. Unfortunately, you’d had a cold yourself a few days ago and Scarlett had insisted on taking care of you the whole time, but her kindness seemed to have been paid back in a less than pleasant way. 

Her head, already congested with cold-related fluids felt like it was spinning and swooning at 100 mph, and you couldn’t help but rub her back as she rested her chin on your shoulder, whining quietly at a volume only you could hear. In response to her low whimper, you turned away from all the prying cameras and offered her a soft, sympathetic look whilst kissing her warm cheek gently. 

She wasn’t usually the type to suffer in silence, but right now, she had little choice especially with all the bright ever-watching cameras flashing in her eyes. The constant brightness only serving to make her dizzy. The light-headedness was making her feel like she was going to topple over. Like she had no energy left to face the onslaught of watching eyes. All you wanted to do was to whisk her away and tuck her up into bed where she could just relax without having to worry about a thing. 

Unfortunately relaxing definitely wasn’t in the list of the things she had to do tonight. Not only did you have to get through the screening, but she’d also been booked for an exclusive interview with a major broadcaster meaning she had no way of getting out of it without causing a hassle, not to mention the multiple afterparty invites that she needed to politely decline. 

The two of you were briefly parted as you both were drawn aside by different interviewers with their burning questions. You did try your best to answer yours in the best way possible, but it was especially hard when you could see Scarlett wearily rubbing her temples out of your peripheral vision as she talked to her interviewer. The poor thing looked exhausted, and your sympathy only increased when you heard Scarlett’s breath catch in her throat mid-answer, you turned just in time to see her raise a hand to the interviewer pausing him in place as she buried her nose into her thoroughly abused tissue, “Hh’tsxnt! Hhi’tschiew! Hhii’tshiew! Ugh, s’cuse me, this stupid cold won’t give me a break.” 

There was a loud mumble of ‘bless you’s’ from the crowd and interviewer himself which led Scarlett to a little blush from embarrassment, and you quickly wrapped up your own before making your way back to her, coming behind her to wrap your arms around her front – an action which she instantly melted into. You continued to hold her as she sniffled her way through the rest of her interview. Once she was finished you told her to stay put as you quickly ran behind the main panels to where members of the backstage crew were waiting. It didn’t take you long to track down a box of tissues and you quickly shoved multiple handfuls into one of your pockets before thanking the team and quickly making your way back out to your waiting wife. 

“Where did you go?” Scarlett asked once you’d retaken her hand back on the carpet, the rasp in her voice becoming a little more obvious now. 

“I went to get you some more tissues, they’re in my pocket if you need any.” The grateful look that flashed across her face was unmissable and you ran your hand down her back in response. 

A shiver crept down Scarlett's spine at your touch, her skin prickling as she felt you rub her back. It's an intimate moment, especially in front of all those people. You smiled and squeezed her hand a little as the pair of you continued down the carpet. 

“Hh…hih..Hh’iishoo!” But Scarlett had to quickly whip around to face away from the cameras as she sneezed down into her hands, her face blushing an even darker shade of red once again. 

“Bless you, my love.” You whispered, resting your hand on her shoulder and  she gingerly slid her hand down the side of your leg as she reached down into your pocket to retrieve one of the tissues, “You’re okay baby, take as many as you need, I can always go get you some more.” You assured her gently. 

You stood infront of her as she blew her nose, you knew she was shy about these things, and once she was done, she let her head fall on the front of your chest, wrapping her arms around your waist, “I really don't feel well baby, everything’s all fuzzy.” She mumbled down against you with a little pout. 

“Poor love,” You sighed before softly pressing your lips to her forehead, leaving them there for a second, “I think you're running a touch of a fever though sweetheart, you feel a little warm.” 

She groaned a little realising you were probably right; it would explain how crappy she felt. She pressed her cheek against yours, the heat behind it seemed obvious now and you gave her another small kiss. To be honest you weren’t entirely confident that Scarlett would even make it 30 minutes into the screening before falling asleep – she seemed so tired already - you placed a tender hand to her cheek prompting her to look over at you as you offered, “Do you want to go home my love? I know that tonight’s really important, but your health takes priority and sweetie you really don’t look well, being here is only making things worst and I doubt anyone here wants to catch this either.” 

“But- what about-” She tried to object but was stopped by a thick set of coughing which made her lungs feel like they were cracking so with a sigh she gave in, “Y/N, I want to go home,” Scarlett said through thick sniffles. It’s impossible for her to suppress another chilly shudder as your touch draws a whimper from her.  

“Let’s go home then, sweetheart,” You said, kissing her forehead again, “I’ll sort everything out once we get you back in the car, our managers will be able to handle things.” It was then that the two of you stopped caring about the press and walked straight down the rest of the carpet towards the exit, ignoring the calls of your names whilst the watching crowd followed your every move with hungry eyes. But neither of you cared anymore. The press could think what they liked, taking care of your wife took priority and nothing would ever change that. 

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[slightlyunconventional]

ok ok but picture N/ina trying to help K/az hold back because they have to be quiet on a heist or something (maybe a good old sneezing-while-hiding type thing) and then when they’re out of the situation she releases her powers and he just ERUPTS…could you imagine…😍

i am doing more than imagining UGHHH this was literally too god not to write into a fic

(anyone who wants to disprove any of the h/eartrender science can argue with the wall. who care about canon) Also the intro to this is a bit long sorry

tease (subjecting k/az b/rekker to the classic sneezing while hiding treatment)

K/az and N/ina stuffed themselves into a wardrobe, backs pressed against the wall, panting hard. They had just narrowly escaped several armed guards who tailed them through the winding corridors of the mansion they'd broken into. A 500,000 kruge job - all they'd had to do was infiltrate Herr Frühling's (a rather obnoxious nom-de-plume) manor, and pilfer an expensive jade brooch from his personal safes. Obtaining the brooch had been plain sailing. The latter half of the heist could not be said the same for. I/nej had recorded the guards' schedules the evening prior, but the ostentatious gentleman of the mansion just so happened to refresh the rotas mere hours before their arrival. What K/az thought was the perfect window to sneak in had actually turned out to be the very minute the guards came back on duty.

Now, they were split up. Inej made her own way out, of course, Jesper, Wylan, and a reluctant Matthias chose a rather gunshot-explosion-heavy escape route, so Kaz ended up with Nina, thundering down Frühling's pristine hallways, three guards hot on their heels. Nina had managed to slow the guards for a brief period with her powers, though not for long - there wasn't a whole lot a Grisha could do while running through a house as fast as possible. This had allowed them an advantage, though, as they stormed through the nearest door into what appeared to be a guest bedroom.

The closet was surprisingly spacious, possessing enough room to allow both of them to collapse to the dusty wooden floor in exhaustion.

Nina watched Kaz set his cane down to the side of him and grimace as he bent his knees up in front of him.

"Saints, what a dick," Nina breathed, clearly referring to Frühling's ridiculousness. Much to his dismay, Kaz had had to be the distraction to keep the gentleman away from his safes, while Inej's limited lockpicking skills were put to the test obtaining the brooch. The balding man showed clear interest in what he called Kaz's "little finger tricks" - what really was just sleight of hand. Kaz had humoured him, however, entertaining the idiot with vanishing coins and cards.

"Is it bad I never want to do a magic trick again?" Kaz said.

"Don't blame you," Nina replied with a snort. "Reckon this guards have gone yet?"

Kaz listened for a moment. "Not sure. I haven't heard them pass, but they might still be knocked out."

He shifted in place, grimacing.

"Has this closet ever been cleaned? God, all I'm breathing is this fucking d-duhh-!"

"Dust?" Nina finished with a smirk.

He breathed in sharply. "hahH!- hah'kkschh! huh'kxxsch! Fuck..."

Nina raised her eyebrows, quietly laughing. "I didn't think you could sneeze."

"Zip it, or I'll- hhuh.. I'll--huH'KSChhiew!" Three sneezes in and they were already rising in volume and pitch.

"Or you'll what?" Nina teased, "Sneeze at me?"

She snorted again seeing the way his glower quickly went slack, overtaken by an impending fourth sneeze.

"hUH'iSHHhiew!"

"Crap." Nina's grin dropped.

Kaz emerged from his elbow. "What?"

Three sets of footsteps entered the room. He and Nina turned to each other, eyes wide.

"Shit." Kaz said, voice barely a whisper, "Can you access them from in here?"

Nina shook her head. "We just have to hope for the best.."

The footsteps slowed down; the guards were scanning the room. Nina heard Kaz's steady breathing begin to snag. Oh, Saints, not now she thought.

"hihH-!"

Nina nudged him urgently with her elbow. All he could do was look back helplessly as he struggled against the need to sneeze.

Then, she had a thought. Sure, she couldn't access the guards' pulses from inside the closet, but maybe she could access Kaz. She'd messed with people's breathing before, drawn air from their lungs to leave them gasping and coughing, so how hard could it be to simply, stop someone sneezing? She thought it was worth a try.

Nina raised her hands and drew them together, feeling the thrum of Kaz's pulse and the rise of each desperate breath. She took his breath, and held it. Not so much that he couldn't breathe, but enough to suppress any oncoming outbursts.

Kaz turned to her in horror despite his lax features. Nina's efforts seemed to be working, because, despite the irritated twitch of his nose, he wasn't sneezing any more. He did though, seem to be stuck in a permanent 'about-to-sneeze' face, which Nina thought was positively adorable. She would definitely be telling Inej all about this.

The footsteps drew closer. Nina's heart pounded. One of the guards was standing right outside the closet door. Nina's grip on Kaz's breathing tightened, and she held her own breath, body tense. Kaz was totally still, eyes barely open, brows drawn together, mouth hanging halfway open. Nina thought she'd never seen anyone need to sneeze that badly before.

"They're not here. Move!" commanded a thick Zemeni accent. The footsteps left the room, fading away in tandem down the corridor.

Nina sighed, never more relieved in her life. A part of her wanted to keep her hands together, hold Kaz's breath until his dignity was in tatters, but she very much valued her skull. She let go, separating her hands.

A series of staggered gasps escaped him as his brows drew closer. Kaz ducked into his elbow, burying his face deep in the sleeve of his coat.

"HahH-hUH-HH'KKSCHHhiew! 'ISHHhuh! huH'SSHHhiew!"

"Is this a new world record? 'Ketterdam local sneezes a trillion times in five minutes?" Nina laughed.

"huh'kKSHhew! Ugh. Shut up."

Nina kicked the closet door open from her seated position and hauled herself up into the glamourous guest bedroom. She groaned.

"Oh, my legs."

Kaz didn't stand up. Instead, he sneezed, a messy triple barely covered by the hand he lifted halfway to his face.

"hih'sSCHHhiew! kxXSCHuh! -huhh... huh'KSHHuhh!"

Nina tried not to laugh again as she offered him an arm to stand up. He ignored it, pushing himself up out of the closet. He was rubbing his nose with his free hand, leather gloves clearly doing nothing to help.

"Fancy that - the Bastard of the Barrel and he's got a dust allergy! Hilarious." giggled Nina.

Kaz strode straight past her, out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

[c0ffeecr0w]

Just gonna share some of my headcanons, mainly for the 16 - 22 year old highschool/college versions of the main 4/5 but also for their canon age version as well. I took some of @rottrottencorpse's SP HCs cuz I thought they fit so well

Here's what I have so far:

Stan is bisexual, Kyle is biro-asexual (gay pref), Cartman is gay (closeted), Kenny is panro-hetero and Butters is bicurious

Stan, Kenny and Butters have blue eyes with Butters' being sky blue, Kyle has green, Cartman has heterochromatic (brown and blue)

Kenny and Cartman are Genderfluid, both having masculine and feminine identities. Kenny goes by He/She/They pronouns but normally goes by He/Him, while Cartman goes by He/She, mainly He/Him as well unless in feminine clothing (and Transginger)

Stan has Spanish/Iberian roots, given from Randy. He sometimes gets called greaseball by Cartman but mostly as a joke (his hair isn't greasy anyway)

Cartman and Stan hang out together on weekends when Kyle isn't around or have nothing else to do. They get along well together

Stan's dog Sparky is a Staffordshire Terrier and American Bulldog mix. He still has him, though he likes to hang out with Big Gay Al usually. He still likes Stan though

Cartman is the shortest out of the gang (5'5) while Kyle is the tallest (6'2) while Stan (5'9) and Kenny (5'11) are somewhere in between

Cartman and Butters both love Disney films

Eric has a soft spot for cats and dinosaurs

Kenny does Karen's hair while she paints his nails for him (Butters taught her)

He also loves Fast and breakfast foods, pancakes especially

Kenny smokes the most out of the gang, from nicotine to marijuana, Stan and Eric occasionally, Kyle doesn't, Butters would be easily peer pressured to do it though

He doesn't do substances around Karen

Stan listens to Alt Rock, Emo, Grunge and Metal (most subgenres), hates Dubstep. Kyle listens to Classical and The Cure. Eric has his Spotify playlist filled with Pop music. Kenny is a Grunger and Nu Metalhead, loves Nirvana and Limp Bizkit, though he likes plenty of different music. Butters probably likes Pop and Eurodance, the happy, cheesy kind. Stuff you'd here on DDR basically

Kenny plays with Karen when she wants to, sometimes Butters plays dolls with her too

Stan binge eats when depressed/stressed. He's gained a bit of chub because of it aside from his sluggishness when high or tired. It isn't noticeable in his usual jacket or in baggy clothes

Kenny has a job that he works at in the summer. He spends a bit of his money on either for his home or for Karen. 60% of his money is given by Butters

Stan has a slight crush on Kyle, though they both see each other as mostly best friends

Butters and Kenny both love each other platonically and romantically.

Butters is a pro at DDR. Kenny sucks at it but plays it with Butters anyway when at the arcade

Stan is still with Wendy, both have gone over their on and off relationship and managed to become better. He's in a poly relationship with her and Kyle since Wendy is polyamorous

Kyle is from Irish-Polish descent. Irish from Sheila's side, Polish from Gerald's side

Stan and Kenny are smoke and music buddies. They both nearly have the same music taste

Eric, Kenny and Butters still have their superhero characters, though all of them LARP as their superhero and fantasy characters

Stan is an alcoholic and stoner. He doesn't go to the point where he abuses it but he usually drinks a can/bottle or 2 a day

Stan is an animal lover but mostly loves big dogs

He also plays the guitar, mainly because of playing Guitar Hero that inspired him

Kyle is germophobic. He hates pee (canonically), anybody sneezing/coughing on him or even a drop of spit getting on him while one is talking

Cartman is most likely the one who'd blast music in the car at full volume

Kyle is more outdoorsy than Stan and would go have walk in the woods

Kenny is a skater boy

Has piercings on his nose and ears, dragon tattoos on arm and back

Also loves Horror and action movies

Stan sucks at iceskating or skating in general, though Wendy is sweet enough to help him out

Butters works at a diner, which Kenny meets him at often. Butters would give him either a hot dog, pancakes or anything he'd like

Kenny has a crush on Butters, which Butters is aware of. Both are real sweethearts to each other

Kyle enjoys writing stories and poetry. He sometimes shares some to Stan, Kenny and Wendy

Kenny is more of a foodie than the rest of the gang. He even eats more than Cartman does (Jk, not pokin fun at his weight)

Kyle hates his hair but Stan would hate it if he would cut it off

Kenny is still Mysterion. No one knows it's him except for his friends. Due to him being up at night, he sleeps a lot in class. Total night owl

Kyle is a A+ student, who Kenny leans onto due to him failing math. He's nice enough to help him out

Stan would be the one who'd sneak in a hip flask at school just in case he gets depressed, though it'd affect his focus if he drinks too much. Despite that, he's a B+ student. Great at art and History

Cartman is a B- student, he sometimes slacks off, texting or watching YouTube videos on his phone. Great in Spanish and English

He and Kenny would be ones who'd pack plenty of snacks. Kenny would be sweet enough to share a bag of chips or 2 while Cartman just hoards it all, especially for Kyle. Though exceptions are for Stan, Kenny and Butters, maybe Clyde too

Kenny is a C grade student. He sucks at math and History but nails science and art

Stan has had moments where he'd get drunk at prom night or in class

Even though he struggles with depression and alcohol, he's such a sweetheart teddy bear

Kenny hides his playboys and cig packs under his mattress in case Karen finds them in his room

[art-blogge]

Bonus Tracks- Operation heck this boss

Ingo had been hired. Emmet had not. They had both followed the rules and showed exemplary knowledge of the subject. They'd both stated several times to their would-be boss that they wanted to work together. Their would-be peers were impressed with both of them.

So why? Why had Ingo been hired, and why had Emmet been left on the side of the tracks?

It felt awful. They'd both been so excited when their uncle the Depot Agent arrived at their home and delivered the green uniform. Just the one uniform, to both of their confusion. Had someone made a mistake? They both eyed the uniform, and then stared at their uncle for an explanation.

Neither of them liked the answer they got. Ingo, while glad he got the job, didn't like having to leave Emmet behind. Emmet just felt terrible, like someone had reached into his chest and crushed his heart. He didn't show it though.

"Great work, Ingo!" he'd said, clapping his elder brother on the back, "You did it! Verrrrry bravo! I'll prrrrobably join you soon!"

Spoilers: He didn't. Emmet had no idea why, and it left him questioning. Had he been too erratic during the interview? Too scary? Was he not good enough?? Was this his fault??? ---- Of course Emmet went when Ingo boarded the train to his new job the first time. It'd be downright wrong not to, and he was delighted to see his brother so happy.

The terrible feelings returned as soon as the train was but a speck in the distance, jealousy chief among them. Why? Why?? He was so jealous it made him feel ill. He didn't know how to process this! He'd never needed to before! They'd always been equals, and now... ...... ---- ... Why was he on the bathroom floor again? This had to stop. Every time Ingo left for work, Emmet would feel sick. This wasn't normal jealousy- This was ADVANCED jealousy! At least, that's how he'd described it to his parents. It was the best he could come up with at the time, and he was glad they'd understood him. He wasn't glad now, of course, even with Galvantula and Eelektrik cuddled up next to him. Awful. Downright terrible. He wanted to go too...! ---- Emmet got his wish the following week, and not in the way he'd hoped. Apparently, the subway boss had made Ingo go out and see why the train had made an emergency stop, despite this clearly being the bosses job. Ingo hadn't been dressed warmly, and Lampent had been busy elsewhere on the train. In the end, it meant Ingo had fallen ill, and the boss still expected him to come in.

"Is this how you felt when I was gone? I'm sorry," Ingo had apologized, repressing a sneeze. And he was still expected to show up?! It made Emmet's blood boil again. And then he had an idea. ---- "ALL ABOOOOARRRD!"

Emmet, wearing a mask and Ingo's uniform, gleefully pointed to the train sign. He was echoed by the conductor, who leaned out the window and made the same gesture. Lined up perfectly, as they should be! No one suspected a thing. He brought Lampent and Excadrill along to Ingo's job, just in case anything happened- And neither of them complained. They seemed to understand the situation, and gladly did their part to make the swap seamless. Of course, Emmet could never quite reach Ingo's tone or volume, but that was okay- He only had to claim that he had a sore throat and that he hadn't been given time to recover. Quickly he'd said this, but not as bluntly as he'd have liked to. He had to use more words. He was Ingo for today.

Despite this, he couldn't help but give the subway boss the most venomous glare he could muster every time they turned their back. This boss had made Ingo suffer, and also Emmet! Terrrrrible, no good! Emmet wanted nothing more than to downright pummel him in a Pokemon battle. He was very good at those! Maybe even the best!

He realized a bit too late how excitedly he'd begun stimming, rapidly pumping his fists at the idea of battling. Had anyone seen it? That was very un-Ingo of him! Shit! No one saw that, right? Rrrrright?

"So it's you, Emmet."

Emmet jumped, his left hand flying to Galvantula's pokeball. Who?! Who?!

"Did I startle you? I'm sorry. I should've known better."

"Uncle Cameron!" Emmet cheerfully shouted, turning to hug his uncle, "So sorrrrr-y! You frightened me!"

He wasn't needed right now, so this was okay. He had a couple of minutes before the train was ready to move, so he didn't need to board yet. He could talk to his uncle, the coolest Depot Agent ever. He had to be cool! He recognized Emmet even with his face covered! That made him, like, suuuuper cool! Super bravo cool!

"Sorry, Emmet. I only came over from my track to warn you." Well, that was concerning. "The boss changed schedule and is coming to this train today instead of tomorrow. I swear, he has no regards for our schedules."

Emmet stared in horror. He had to ride the train with that guy?! No way, no! He wanted to quit on the spot! He loudly cursed, but luckily his exclamation was covered by the nearby garage band starting to blare out music. Wait. This gave him an idea.

"Good luck with that, Emmet. I mean, Ingo," Cameron winked, patting Emmet's head. "You can't battle him. I've already tried. I got my pay docked for suggesting it." With that, Cameron left Emmet alone again on the platform.

The man wouldn't even battle?! Oh, that was definitely the last straw. The last spoon. The last speck of patience Emmet had with this man. The man Emmet saw approaching, and who stopped in front of him.

"Get inside already, whelp. You don't need to do any of that pointing, we're going."

Emmet's blood evaporated into an angry mist so thick it threatened to suffocate passerby. No. No! By all safety rules, that was not what you do!!!

Emmet nodded to the boss, but did not move. His idea. Wait. He had a plan and he could...!

"I do not intend to follow the schedule, sir, just like you," Emmet began, trying his hardest to restrain any possible malice from his voice. "There is a public nuisance that needs to be shut down, effective immediately." A curt nod, a slight bow. "I will shut down this unnecessary arrangement. Please enjoy your trip, sir."

To Emmet's surprise, there was no response at all. It seemed the man approved, and boarded without another word. Not even a thank you! Emmet would remember that! Emmet would now act against your wishes! Emmet would now do all the required pointing and calling, specifically to spite you!

And then he waited. He waited for the train to vanish from view, while the garage band warily watched him. They'd heard him, after all. He hadn't realized that, so he was confused when he looked and was met with worry.

"What? It is okay. Continue playing! It is not a safety violation!"

To hammer in how honest he was, he pulled his mask off to reveal his large grin. He loved garage bands! So much!

"And I love your music, please go on!!" ---- Lunch break. Uncle Cameron had gone on ahead and told his fellow workers that Emmet was substituting in for Ingo, and not a single one complained. They understood how Emmet felt, and good, because he was upset!

"The boss says no safety rules?? Jail! Jail for boss for one-thousand years! Illegal and verrrrrrry unsafe!! I think he should---!"

Emmet was cut off by all the Depot Agents scrambling to get something behind him, and he looked around in alarm. What?! What was it?? He only saw a Joltik, which he immediately plucked off the wall.

"Do you see what's wrong, little girl?" Emmet asked it, holding it up to his face on his open palms. The Joltik stared. The Depot Agents stared. Galvantula released herself from her ball and stared.

Emmet plopped the Joltik onto Galvantula's back.

"Baby delivery for you!"

Galvantula trilled happily, as did the Joltik. Several more Joltiks came out from who-knows-where to join their brethren. Emmet considering throwing them at the bad Subway Boss briefly. That gave him another idea, a... More disruptive idea. But not now. Not today. He'd need Ingo for this one. ---- Ingo came back into work the following Monday. He made sure to still wear a mask, just in case he could get others sick. That, and Emmet had insisted on it. They were both wearing one, as well as both wearing a uniform. The point was not to confuse any passengers, though- It was still very clear they were different people. Ingo had on a very-oversized uniform jacket, while Emmet had the one that fit properly. Ingo was borrowing it from Uncle Cameron, and he opted to wear it because Emmet refused to. "What if I get stuck in a doorway?!" Emmet had argued, and Ingo didn't fight with him past that. He didn't have the time for this anyway. He had to be at his station soon, and he couldn't be a minute late. He just hoped Emmet would get to his own spot in time.... ---- "Good morning, sir," Emmet loudly stated, neatly saluting, "The train is running perfectly on time."

Seeing the boss stand over the yellow line made Emmet want to drag him back to safety, but he'd already agreed that he wouldn't. How had this man even gotten this position with such a disregard for the rules? Relatives? Money? Both?? Terrible.

As the subway train entered sight, several Joltik launched themselves off of it. Most of them landed just outside the yellow line, knowing their place. They, too, were passengers, but knew not to bother human passengers behind the lines.

But SOMEONE wasn't behind the lines, so several Joltik ended up bashing directly into the subway boss. He angrily swatted them away while Emmet silently laughed. The Joltiks were, of course, completely in on what was happening, and opted to stay on the scene.

Emmet glanced to the side. Uncle Cameron had abandoned his usual post in favor of recording all of this on an oldish looking camcorder. Digital, of course, but a bit bulky. He had a fantastic angle, and he gave Emmet a thumbs up.

When Emmet looked back, the subway boss had several very clear splotches of yellow on his nice, clean suit. Again Emmet had to hold back laughter- He'd only suggested dunking spiders in spraypaint as a JOKE. The visual proof that it'd happened was nice, yeah, but he didn't think the Depot Agents would actually do much of what some idiot kid had suggested.

Right. His job.

As soon as the train was fully stopped, Emmet made sure he was lined up with the conductor before pointing up to the signs. The boss hated this and ignored him, meaning he missed critical information-- The digital scrollbar had changed it's usual message. Beyond the time of departure, route and current time it had more ominous text warning of something vague. Emmet smiled under his mask, glad Ingo had made it to his station in time.

The scrollbar was usually completely automated, so Ingo had to manually enter this in- And that took far longer than he'd anticipated. Ingo considered asking for someone to be hired to handle this backend tech in case something went wrong, but realized he was thinking WAY too far ahead. One thing at a time. Stop at every station before completing the trip. He had a call to make as soon as the train had departed.

Emmet boarded the subway train as soon as he could. He wanted to make sure passengers knew something was up so they wouldn't be worried. The boss had also pushed his way in, but he was standing by the doors and trying to rub the paint off his suit.

Bingo.

A single Joltik waited nearby, keeping its eyes on the doors. She had a very simple job- Jump on the man's tie, and leave the train. If all went well, that stupid tie would get stuck in the doors. Emmet had not been a fan of this idea, saying it was a genuine danger, and he was still correct. However, the boss was also disregarding how close he was to the doors and what was around him. Again, Emmet wondered how this man had kept this position if he was this dense.

This part of the plan did not work, thankfully. Joltik had been spotted far too early on, and had been removed with an excessive amount of throwing force.

"Sir, I should not have to ask you to stand away from the doors," Emmet stated, finally giving up on staying quiet. As he was given a very annoyed look, he added "If that Joltik had gotten your tie, that would have been verrry dangerous."

A few moments of tense silence passed, during which the train whistle blew. Looooong, looooong, short.

"You're not the boy I hired," the subway boss observed flatly, to which Emmet nodded.

"Correct. I am Emmet. Ingo is sick."

There was no reply to this. Emmet had at least expected SOME kind of reaction, and was left confused. Let's try again.

"Why only Ingo?

"Can't afford two new hires."

Oh. Oh, it was. It was that simple? It hadn't been anything personal?? It wasn't some kind of--

The subway train made a noise it most certainly was not supposed to make, and Emmet jumped, resulting in three Joltik being thrown and one Emmet falling onto the floor. The boss was quick to radio the conductor, brow furrowing as he demanded to know what the hell that was. Emmet didn't understand the reply- The radio quality was absolute trash- but he did see the boss' face change. What kind of expression was this? Emmet prided himself on his ability to read faces, but this had him at a loss. Worry? Fear? No... Maybe??

The expression was gone moments later, with the boss having noticed that Emmet was staring.

"Stay here," he firmly instructed, standing up. "I don't want children getting involved in this."

As he walked out, Emmet was able to hear him muttering "How did they find me this time?" ---- Emmet waited ten minutes before his patience ran out. He didn't have Ingo's radio, so he couldn't ask what was going on. He had a vague idea, though- This was never about shunning safety protocols! The subway boss was trying to avoid someone, and it was probably verrrrrrry important! He made a mental note to ask the Depot Agents about this after- He doubted they had any idea.

Okay, that was another five minutes, and his patience was DEFINITELY out now. He didn't want to wait the full hour before the train returned to Gear Station! What if it was bad? Nope, he wasn't gonna sit there anymore! Time to go!

Emmet was able to hear a Pokemon battle as soon as he left the train car, and he got excited. Battle! Battle!!! Battle!!!! Where? Where??? Next car?? Pokemon battle!

He got his pants leg stuck in a cab door, and he stopped to offendedly stare at the closed door. That's no good! Emmet made a mental note to either get boots to tuck his pants into, or get skinnier pants. Maybe both. Both is always good.

Right! Pokemon battle! Where was it??

Only a few train cars down, it turned out.

"Nidoking, Earthquake!"

"Ice Shard!"

Emmet vibrated excitedly watching the battle play out. He hadn't seen these Pokemon before! What region were they from? He'd have to ask later!

Unfortunately, it didn't last much longer. Nidoking had been the boss' last Pokemon, and his opponent was quick to gloat.

"See how much stronger we've gotten in your absence, Leader? Your own Admin beat you! Now you HAVE to come back with me!"

Emmet couldn't see the boss' face, but he could see Nidoking's- And Nidoking was clearly displeased by all this. That was all Emmet needed to step in.

"Pardon me! As this train is still in motion, I have to ask all passengers to remain onboard for their own safety!"

He knew that this man didn't mean leaving right this moment. He didn't care, either. Watching the gloating man's face shift from being smug to confusion to irritation was enough for him at the moment. Wait. No it wasn't. Emmet still wanted to battle. He always did. The other man must have noticed Emmet fidgeting with Galvantula's pokeball, because he was quick to pull out his own ball.

"Maybe I want to leave! What's a kid like you going to do, stop me? You're not doing some sort of gym challenge, so I got no reason to be scared of you!"

What a mistake this man was making. It was one of Emmet's points of pride owning three gym badges, after all. Maybe he really should start wearing them more often. Oh well. Irrelevant. He was being challenged to a battle! Pokemon battle, Pokemon battle, Pokemon battle! ---- Emmet lost, but that didn't stop him from personally trouncing his opponent after they announced that they were going to leave right that minute. No, absolutely not, that was completely against the rules! You are getting seatbelted whether you like it or not! "Seatbelt" in this case was not only literal, but also had assistance from Galvantula. Verrrrrrrrry literal.

In the background, the boss slipped on a leftover patch of ice from the previous battle. Nidoking snorted. -------- -------- "Hey, Ingo, do you remember the old boss?"

"I try not to," Ingo responded, glancing up from today's paperwork. The display screen next to the Multi-line was no longer functioning, so they needed to order a new one- And like hell Emmet was going to do it. "That just makes me worried about the idea of stalkers. Why?"

Emmet shrugged, leaning back on his office chair.

"I 'unno, I was just thinking about him! That's not weird, rrrrrrright?"

"Emmet, you know he was a wanted criminal, right?"

"WHAT."

[At this point I ran out of steam and ideas. That was SUPPOSED to be Giovanni playing another round of AVOIDING MY TEAM UNTIL I GET WHERE I WANT TO BE but get fucked up old man.]

[temmtamm]

Sundrop/moondrop x sound sensitive reader head cannons? I'm sound sensitive and it would mean alot- (if you need any information on sound sensitivity feel free to DM me Abt it)

SUN AND MOON WITH SOUND SENSITIVE READER

Sun

He had a hard time understanding it and just assumed you were a very fragile human. This causes him to tape his mouth shut whenever he feels like swimming since he can't do it quietly, as well as freak out if you do anything such as sneeze.

Once he fully understands it, he likes to buy you earmuffs and decorate them with glitter glue and stickers.

If he hears anyone talk shit about you or your earmuffs, he's throwing hands, though he'll be sure to do it silently, and with you earmuffs on you.

He has a lot of trouble, due to his usual loud nature, but he means well and will even cry if he hurts your ears bad enough to where you have to go away.

He doesn't want to go on any dates with you in fear that all the sounds of customers will be to much, so he will have to make most of your dates out of stuff from the daycare.

He definitely loves cuddling with you, it's both quiet and warm!! Though it's hard to keep him to stay still while cuddling.

Definitely makes dumb jokes like you're ears are crying, or being emotionally sensitive. He's trying to help lighten the mood at least.

Whenever movie nights are in the daycare, if you are there, he makes sure to double check on seeing if the volume is okay with you and the other workers.

Moon

He is always a quiet man, so it isn't a hard change to adapt to.

Most of his activities are quiet and peaceful, so you two can always have fun together, which he is sure that you do.

Dozing off together, cuddling, spooning, hugging are all good ways he likes to show his affections towards you.

Just like sun, he is willing to get into brawls over anyone trash talking you or thinking it's funny to purposely make loud noises.

He likes to sing lullabies to you in the softest tone he can muster to try and make you feel comfortable.

Sadly, he also suffers from severe dumb and needs you to remind him that you aren't a porcelain doll, you just have hearing troubles.

Won't stop him from carrying your ass everywhere though.

He sometimes likes to use your phone or other technology to study up on your problem, though he has trouble remembering your password, so he'll have to just believe the words you say.

[rendevousz]

sick

avengers x gn!teen!reader

platonic!peter parker x reader

requested by @sunflowerbecca : "hey! a request with the whole teen avengers thing you got gotten on haha, anyways something where the reader gets hurt or faints etc etc and then the rest of the avengers are all worried and frantic as they care for them"

summary: there was a consequence of going on a mission while you were sick

warnings: mentions of throwing up and a tiny fight with bestfriend!peter, avengers babying you as usual

word count: roughly 5k words of utter bullshit me thinks but pls do give this a read LMAO

notes: i'm sorry this took longer to write i was unexpectedly busy on the weekends but here i am i hope you enjoy this <3

"stark, you sure about this?"

"of course i'm sure, capsicle. the kids have been bugging us to let them go on a mission together. i know it's because they just want to mess around without being scolded but this is the easiest mission we've ever gotten since the avengers. besides, they've been pretty good lately so i think they deserve it. don't you guys think so?"

his question was met with approving looks all over the room, except from steve. the whole team except the teens —you and peter— were having a meeting about a simple mission that was supposed to happen that night. you and peter weren't in the meeting because you two were still at school.

it had been months since you and peter started asking the team to let you guys go on missions alone without "adult supervision". it was true that you guys wanted that just so you could do missions without feeling like you were being babysat but it was also because you guys thought that you weren't kids anymore; you could handle simple missions.

"c'mon cap, don't you want to see their face light up when we tell them they can go on this mission together, without us?" clint urged. he knew steve loved the kids, especially you, and he especially loved seeing the way your eyes would light up first before you whole face did.

"okay, fine. but if anything happens to them, you guys are to blame for."

–

school had just finished and you were walking back to the tower with peter. you've been having a killer headache all day and you felt nauseous. you even went to the washroom to throw up twice today. of course you didn't tell peter because he was that type of overprotective best friend who would make you get home if you sneezed more than three times that day. all you wanted to do today was get home quick so you could sleep the sickness away.

yes, you knew you were sick. but you didn't want to tell anyone because like peter, the whole team was overprotective over you and they usually did too much when you were sick. so you avoided that by just acting like you were okay. that was going well so far since all you had to do when you get home was go to your room and tell them you stayed up late last night and needed to catch up on sleep.

of course that didn't go well.

"y/n!" you groaned when peter entered your room uninvited, immediately jumping onto your bed. "yes, pete?" you croaked. his joyful expression turned into a frown when he heard you. "what's wrong? are you okay?"

"yes, pete, i'm okay. just super sleep deprived." you lied, cringing when you felt your head throb once again. "oh.. did you..did you want to sleep? am i interrupting?" he asked, feeling bad. "no, no. it's fine, what did you want?"

"i just came to tell you that mr stark and the team are finally gonna let us go on a mission without them! there's one tonight and they're letting us go alone!" he announced excitedly. you couldn't help the small smile that appeared on your lips when he said that. his happiness was just so contagious.

"but if you wanna sleep then i'll just go with any one of them, i guess," he shrugged his shoulders with a nonchalant face but you knew he was internally begging you to come with. after all, you guys have been asking for this for the longest time.

you look at his hopeful face —one that he thought he was concealing very well— and sighed, flashing him a small smile. "fine, it's friday anyways so there's no school tomorrow. but you're buying me food tomorrow for postponing my catchup on beauty sleep," that is, if you can stomach the food, considering how you've thrown up almost anything you had for the past two days.

the thought of this mission going awry because of you being sick was almost immediately forgotten when you saw the huge smile on peter's face. he pulled you into a tight hug before letting go to jump on your bed. "we're finally gonna go on a mission alone!"

you laugh at his excitement though you wished he could lower down his volume because it was making your head hurt.

later that evening, you were in your room, sitting on the bed after having just finished putting on your suit when a knock was heard. after telling the person to come in, you met eyes with a certain blond haired super-soldier.

"hey, y/n." he greets, sitting down beside you. "hey, steve," you responded with a weak voice. he turned to you with a frown and you knew what was coming. "i'm fine, steve. i already had this conversation with pete. i just need sleep but i can get that after this mission. i'm not gonna be fine though if you wake me up at the crack of dawn to train when you know i just had a late night mission." you sassed, causing him to chuckle.

"okay, fine. i'm just worried about you two. you sure you're gonna be fine? don't need me to come along?" he asked, concern written all over his face.

"yes, steve. pete's been wanting a mission without you old folks for the longest time and i'm not gonna disappoint him by making you come along. we'll be fine, stevie. we're not little kids, we're avengers. we can handle finding a random chip in an abandoned building," you reasoned with him.

"it's not a rando— you know what? just be back home safe, okay kiddo?" he ruffled your hair, earning him a playful glare from you.

-

the swing trip to the mission location had you even more nauseous than you were earlier today and earlier today was worse than yesterday when the symptoms of your fever all started. you almost let go of peter because your body felt weak and now you were getting an earful from the boy.

"y/n, what were you thinking?! you could've gotten hurt!" he scolded you. you only looked down in guilt, biting the inside of your cheeks. "can we not do this now? let's talk about this back at the tower tomorrow," you waved him off, already beginning to feel the pounding headache getting worse. you started to walk ahead but then he gripped your upper arm, effectively halting you in your steps.

"y/n, if i hadn't grabbed onto you tighter the last minute, you could've plummeted 100 feet down to your death! did you know how scared i was?" his voice cracked and you immediately felt bad.

"you know you need to hold on too when i'm swinging us both! why'd you do that?" he yelled at you and you had to press onto your temple because of the headache that was steadily getting worse.

"look, pete, i'm really sorry about that, okay? that was unintentional but if you're gonna berate me over that, can you do that back at the tower?" you sighed, trying to shrug his grip off your arm but he kept it.

"you don't know the true weight of your actions, do you? you could've died, y/n! how do you think i would feel? being the reason my best friend died? having to go on with life without you? i can't lose you, y/n!" at this point, you could tell he was crying under his mask.

you felt bad. you knew you shouldn't have agreed to go on this mission knowing that you had been sick for the past two days. but you couldn't have let the opportunity pass. you couldn't bear to see peter disappointed after waiting for this moment for the longest time ever. but standing here, looking down as peter yelled at you while crying, you were starting to think that it was better to just see his disappointment. anything was better than seeing your best friend cry.

"pete, i truly am sorry. i love you and i would never leave you. but can we please get this mission over and done with so we can get back to the tower as soon as possible? we'll talk about this later," you told him and you immediately felt him let go of your arm.

"okay, fine! since you wanna get the mission done so bad, let's do it! i'll take the east side of the building and you'll take west. we'll split up so can find the goddamn chip quicker. that's what you want right?" and before you could say anything, the boy was already out of your sight.

you tried to keep your tears at bay but when that was the first huge argument you had with your best friend, it was kind of an impossible task.

so with your weak muscles and a breakdown that caused your headache to get even worse, you slowly trudged the west side of the building, looking for that stupid chip that the team wanted you to find.

you were beginning to think that the only reason the team sent you both here was because to find a tiny little chip in a huge abandoned building was like finding a needle in a haystack; definitely not something adults like them could bear to do.

but it obviously wouldn't have mattered to you and peter since you guys could do it peacefully without being pestered every two minutes about your whereabouts during missions. it obviously wouldn't have mattered to you and peter because if that argument hadn't broken out, you two would be enjoying each others company as you looked for the chip together. you could've been singing and joking around like you two wanted to. but of course that couldn't happen because of you.

you stopped in your tracks when a particularly harsh wave of migraine hit you, causing you to lean against the wall. your vision blurred as you tried hard to clear it but it wouldn't. your throat was dry and it made you think; when was the last time you drank water? you barely had energy in you from skipping meals due to your inability to stomach them.

now you were actually regretting coming on this mission. the last thing you saw was the dirty walls decorated with spray painted graffiti.

-

"oh my god, is this it? KAREN, is this it?" peter asked his built in AI. "yes, peter, this chip matches the picture that mr stark sent you."

"yes!" he cheered, grabbing the chip and storing it safely. "this mission probably would've been a lot more fun if y/n and i weren't fighting. we would've had so much fun. these walls had countless of stuff we could've laughed and joked about." the boy sighed before pressing a finger to his comms.

"hey i uh, i found the chip. where are you? we can go now." he said, waiting for you to respond. but you didn't. "c'mon, y/n, it's been two hours. you can't still be giving me the silent treatment, are you?"

silence.

"look, i'm sorry for lashing out on you but like you said, let's settle this at the tower. tell me where you are. i'll come get you and we can swing back as soon as possible."

silence.

"goddamnit, y/n! answer me!" he huffed out in annoyance. and when he was met with silence once again, he decided to have KAREN do a scan.

"y/n is at the exact same spot you landed on two hours ago." KAREN showed him the scan of the building and highlighted where you guys landed on two hours ago. he felt his heart race when you seemed to be lying on the ground, motionless.

"what's wrong with them, KAREN? why is y/n lying on the floor?" he asked in concern as he sped up to where you were. "y/n seems to have lost consciousness. according to FRIDAY, they have been showing symptoms of a high fever since yesterday."

peter cursed as he ran towards you when he saw you from afar. how could he have not noticed that you were sick? and it wasn't a simple cold but a high fever. now he was the one who felt bad. he should've suspected it from how different you had been acting since yesterday. that must've also been the reason you couldn't hold on to him properly.

he immediately crouched down to you when he reached you, examining your body for any external injuries. he cringed when he saw dried blood on the side of your forehead. you must've scraped it upon impact on the rough concrete.

"how long have they been out?" he asked KAREN as he picked you up. he proceeded to web you onto his body as extra precaution in case he accidentally let go while he swung. "approximately 2 hours, peter. right after you stormed away angrily."

"okay, KAREN, there's no need to make me feel bad. can you call mr stark?" peter asks the AI as he frantically swings you both back to the tower.

"kid? what's up? did you find the chip?" peter could hear the background rock music being lowered down and from the metal on metal clanking, he could tell tony was in his lab.

"i did but can you, uh, please get medic ready?" he was breathless as he kept swinging from building to building all while holding onto your unconscious body. immediately the metal tinkering sounds as well as the music completely stopped.

"what happened, kid? are you alright?"

"i'm okay, mr stark. it's y/n. they fainted." he told the man. "fainted?" the man exclaimed. "what happened? how long were they out?" he urged the boy and peter could hear that he was walking quickly and he assumed it was to get the medic team ready and to inform them of the situation.

"2 hours," he admitted quietly as he landed on the tower's hangar. "i'm here. i'm bringing them down now." he ran down towards the hospital wing with you in his arms.

once he reached down, he was met with the team waiting, worry etched onto their faces. wanda was the first to notice him and peter saw that her eyes were teary. before he could say anything though, the medic team appeared and proceeded to cut off his webs wrapping you to him. they immediately put you onto the stretcher and they wheeled you into the room, peter's gaze lingering on your unconscious self once he took off his mask.

"what happened out there, kid?" sam asked softly when peter slid down against the wall, staring expressionlessly at the wall across of him. "peter."

"we had a fight, okay!" he let out, taking the team by surprise because he was always such a calm and patient boy. they had never seen him this angry or upset since they first met him.

"we were swinging and their grip on me loosened so i got mad at them. but they kept pushing the matter aside like it wasn't a big deal, like it wasn't a life or death situation so i lashed out and decided that we should split up to look for the stupid chip since they wanted to get back to the tower so bad." he explained, eyes red as he had been crying a lot that night.

"i tried apologising like ten minutes after but y/n didn't respond so i assumed they were giving me the silent treatment but i found them unconscious two hours later. i'm so sorry," he apologised, breaking down as he put his face in between his knees to avoid looking at the team. they were probably mad at him for letting this happen to you.

"kid, why are you apologising? it's not your fault,"

he slowly lifted his head up, to meet the kind smiles of the team. "because the only reason y/n probably went on this mission was because they knew how much i wanted this. they put their own well-being aside just to make me happy and all i did was lash out at them."

"how were you supposed to know y/n had a high fever? we all didn't know either. it's not like we spend every waking hour with th—" clint was immediately cut off when nat nudged him with her elbow. peter had an unamused expression on his face. everyone knew you and peter were practically attached at the hip, always having training, and not to mention, school together. you two even spent your free time together.

"what clint means," nat glared at the archer. "is that it doesn't matter how much time or how little time we spend with y/n. that kid is stubborn as a bull. they could literally have been shot and we wouldn't know until we actually see the wound. my point is, y/n's the type that doesn't want to worry us. and you're their best friend, they knew how much you wanted this mission so that's probably why they didn't tell you. you can't blame yourself for this, peter."

"i know but they did this for me and i got mad at them. they're a much better friend to me than i am to them." peter dropped his head back down between his knees.

before any of them could respond, doctor cho approached them. "as you all know, they have a high fever. i suggest you all come visit tomorrow because they most probably won't wake until then."

"okay, will do. thank you, doc." the doctor smiled before excusing herself. peter then got up to go back to his room to wash up after handing tony the chip.

tony could only sigh when he looked at the boy's back that was growing smaller as he walked farther away.

-

the next day, you woke up with a terrible headache but you had gotten used to it from the past two mornings.

"good, you're awake. how do you feel?"

you squinted to get used to the bright lighting and your gaze settled on the female doctor by your bed with a clipboard. "like shit." you croaked out. she chuckled. "that's expected. your fever has calmed down now, do you feel anything else?"

"this headache makes me want to rip my head out and i feel weak." she nodded, jotting down on her clipboard. "okay. that's all i needed to know. you should come to us if you're ever unwell, y/n." you gave her a guilty smile before nodding.

"there's a glass of water on the table if you want. the team wants to see you so i'll send them in?" you nodded and she left to bring them in. you looked at the bedside table, seeing the glass of water she mentioned and only now you realised how dry your throat had been. how you managed to verbally respond to doctor cho, you didn't know.

you slowly reached out for it, struggling because your whole body felt weak. "y/n! stay in bed, i'll get it for you." you heard a stern voice scold and you immediately fell limp on the bed.

before you knew it, steve was already by your side with the glass of water. he held your face in one hand while the other held the glass near your mouth. you smiled gratefully and took your time drinking the water, having been dehydrated before you passed out.

"you're still burning up," he noted, settling down on the chair beside you. the rest sat down too and you couldn't be bothered to ask how the heck were there so many chairs in the room. "how are you feeling, y/n/n?" bruce asked, sitting down across steve.

"like shit." you repeated your answer to doctor cho. before steve could open his mouth to tell you to watch your language, you turned to him with a bored look and a raised eyebrow, causing him to close his mouth immediately. boy, were you scary when you weren't about to take anyone's shit.

"why didn't you tell us you were sick, bubs?" wanda pouted, fixing your hair that you were sure looked like a bird's nest at the moment.

"i didn't want to worry you guys. you're adults who have much more important things to worry about. a kid throwing up and experiencing headaches shouldn't be your priority." you admitted, subconsciously playing with nat's fingers. she had gotten used to you doing that when you were nervous or overwhelmed so she let you.

"what are you talking about, y/n?" she held onto your hand, stoping your movements. "anything related to your safety and well-being is a priority to us. you had us worried sick last night, bub." she looked down at you with soft eyes, releasing her grip on your hands so you could continue playing with her fingers.

"yes, you worried us lots, y/n. wanda would not stop crying last night when she heard what happened." vision said, prompting a smack from said woman and a hushed 'vis!'.

"i'm sorry, guys. i initially was just going to stay in my room until i got better but when peter told me about the mission, i couldn't bear to say no to him. he was so happy about it and i didn't want to disappoint him. and i thought i could take it because it literally was the simplest mission ever. but the breakdown i had after our argument was physically draining and i guess i couldn't take it. i'm sorry. god, i only didn't want to disappoint peter but now i've disappointed you guys too." you bit the inside of your cheek to control your emotions, not wanting to seem even weaker in front of these adult superheroes.

"you didn't disappoint us, y/n/n," bucky started. "you've done so well, you've made us proud and you keep making us proud. we just wish you would tell us when you're sick or you just need someone. you don't have to keep everything to yourself. what are we here for? we love you and we're willing to do anything for you. you're our baby." he ruffled your hair and you give him a tired smile. "i'll keep that in mind."

"do you want anything to eat?" sam asked and you paused, trying to figure out whether you would be able to stomach some food or not. "you know what? i'm gonna go and make you some porridge right now. don't move." he told you, as if you could move with these overprotective heroes surrounding your bed.

almost immediately after, wanda got up too. "i'm going to make sure he doesn't burn the kitchen down." she said, leaving the room after a small peck to the side of your head. vision then left too after wishing you a speedy recovery. only bucky, steve, natasha and bruce were left.

"y/n, you know you can come to us if you're sick, right? i know you and you probably think you're troubling doctor cho if you go to her despite it being her job. but we're family, you can come to us anytime. you always help me when with 'the other guy' and you help everyone with basically anything they could possibly need so why wouldn't we do the same for you? you out of everyone in this tower deserves the most." your eyes watered at his speech. you pouted and looked at him with your doe eyes, making the rest of the team internally coo at how adorable you looked.

"bruce," you lower lip jutted out even more as you opened your arms for a hug which he happily accepted. "hey where's clint, tony and pete?" you asked them once you let go of bruce.

"clint went out to get your favourite smoothie from that place you always talk about even though i told him already that you probably don't want it since you're sick." natasha explained. "aw, i think i'm gonna drink it solely because clint made an effort to get it for me."

"you're too nice, bub. but expect it in an hour or so because i know for sure that idiot somehow got himself lost trying to find that shop." you chuckled at this, leaning back against your propped up pillow. "what about tony and pete?"

"peter feels really bad about this whole situation so tony is trying to cheer him up. wait," steve stopped mid-explanation, turning to the rest. "stark told us to get him when y/n's up..." he trailed off and bucky's eyes widened. "he's gonna kill us for him not being the first person y/n sees when they wake up."

"FRIDAY, inform stark that y/n is awake."

"oh yeah he has an AI why couldn't he just tell the AI to inform him instead of us forgetful humans?" bucky questioned rhetorically and before they knew it, they heard frantic screaming and thudding of footsteps before the door was open.

"my baby! you're awake!" was the first thing you heard when the door slammed open. tony rushed in, pushing bruce away as he immediately pulled you into a hug. "you're still burning up, cupcake. have you had anything to eat yet? drank any water yet? here have some water," he grabbed the glass of water steve helped you drink earlier and did exactly what steve did. you had no choice but to drink.

"sam's making them porridge," nat told tony and he turned to her with an incredulous look. "wanda's helping." she added and he sighed out in relief before turning back to you.

"cupcake, you had us all worried last night. please don't ever do that again, okay?" he said, gently caressing your cheek. you gave him an awkward smile. "where's peter?"

"he's taking a swing. he says it helps clear his mind," tony said. "how are you doing here? nice room? comfy bed?" he pointed to the bed you were on.

"i'd much rather be in my own room, on my own bed." and without a warning, steve already had you in his arms while tony went to go tell doctor cho that you were being moved. the blond super-soldier started walking while natasha walked closely behind, dragging your IV drip along so it doesn't get ripped out of your arm.

when you reached your room, you were gently put down on your bed and steve fixed your blanket so it was covering you. "comfy?" he asked and you nodded with a big smile.

"i have to finish some stuff up down the lab," bruce said and you nodded at him with a pout. "i'll come back sometime later, though. you better be resting up all day." he warned jokingly. he ruffled your hair, planting a kiss on your forehead before leaving your room.

"can you tell pete that i want to see him when he comes back?" you told tony and he immediately sent out a text to your best friend.

after about an hour of just steve, nat and tony entertaining you, sam came back with wanda with the porridge and tony insisted that he feed you or you he wasn't going to let you see peter.

"alright, bub, i think you should really get some rest now. you can barely keep your eyes open," nat says, already getting up with your empty bowl of porridge. "we'll tell spiderboy you're asleep."

"okay," you mumbled, eyes already fluttering shut. you felt every single one of them give you a forehead kiss and then you were out like light.

when you woke up later that day, you felt much better than you did the last time you woke up. you decided that you now had enough energy to take a quick shower so you did. once you were done, you dried your hair while humming to a random song before the door opening interrupted you.

your eyes met with peter's guilty ones. "h–hey, you're awake," he stated and you nodded with a small smile, sitting on your bed and peter doing the same.

"look, y/n/n, i'm really sorry about what happened. i shouldn't have lashed out on you witho—"

"pete," you cut him off. "don't apologise. i'd be mad too if you did something as stupid as that." you reasoned. "yeah but it's not like you did it on purpose! you had a valid reason and i got mad at you for it." he spoke in frustration.

"dude, stop. i'm the one who's supposed to be sorry. i should've just told you i was sick. but i didn't want to upset you because you've been waiting for this for the longest time. but i ruined it for you. i'm sorry, pete." you rested your head on his shoulder and he rested his on top of yours.

"i wanna say that i'm the one at fault but then this conversation won't end until like next week so let's just say we're both at fault, yeah? you need to start telling people what's happening with you and i need to be better at reading you." he said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into a hug. you hugged him back. "okay."

the door then opened, revealing bucky with his stupid shit-eating grin and you knew what was coming. you let go of peter and immediately you were lifted off the bed and over bucky's shoulders as he excitedly chanted about team movie night.

the night was spent watching a movie with the team you considered your family and them pampering you even more than they usually did (which, frankly, was still too much) since you were sick.

and right when the movie ended and everyone was preparing to head in, the door to the common room slammed open and a disheveled clint entered, holding a single cup of smoothie.

"got your smoothie, y/n/n!"

[strwbrryblues]

My Favorite Moment

Pairing: Seo Changbin x GN!Reader

Genres: Fluff, Established Relationship, Non idol AU

Word Count: 1.0k

Warnings: None

Requested | Author's Choice

12 Gifts of Christmas Masterlist

© December 2021, strwbrryblues. All rights reserved.

When Changbin received a Polaroid camera from Seungmin the previous Christmas, he was absolutely ecstatic about it. It was his first time receiving something like that. The only problem was, he was, admittedly not a good photographer as Seungmin.

He’d tested out the camera on his sister, numerous times, on family vacations. But it always turns out blurry. Or accidentally pressing on the button when his sister is about to sneeze—in short, it’s always the bad time to take pictures.

So when he takes it with him on your dates together, he tries to be as subtle as possible so as not to surprise you.

It wasn’t subtle at all because of the flash.

The times he’d taken you off guard by the camera flash was, a lot.

But the practice was worth it. To say the least.

Changbin holed up in his room, your polaroid pictures scattered everywhere. If people didn’t know you two’s relationship, they honestly would have assumed that he was a stalker. Because he had a ton of collection of your pictures.

Playing a mellow song in the background at a low volume, he assorted the pictures that he wanted to compile, and give you. Maybe he should add little notes to not make it look plain.

“What are you up to?” His sister peeked in his room, to see the mess of pictures scattered on the floor. “Oh my gosh. You’re obsessed.”

Changbin gave her a flustered yet sharp look. “ No I’m not!”

“Mhm. Yeah. Sure.” She stole a quick glance to see that he was making a, what seems to be, a scrapbook. “Look up at Pinterest for inspiration and shit like that. Better than winging it if you’re giving it to Y/n.” She left before Changbin could even thank her.

He’ll do that later. Right now, he scrolled through his phone looking at scrapbook inspirations.

Changbin frowned. “Aren’t all of this too…extravagant?” He kept scrolling, not satisfied with what he’s seeing. He deemed that it’s either too much work, too simple, or just…too aesthetically pleasing.

He needs to show you that it’s his work, somehow. He thought it’s useless to copy the designs of the other works he’s seen—since he really doesn’t know where to start. But thankfully, he got the gist of the whole picture, text, and design layout all together. Maybe he could start choosing on what to use as design, from his array of bought stickers and post it notes.

❅❆❅❆❅❆❅

When time came you two met up at a family restaurant you two frequently visit, you were quick to unwrap the hard bound book.

You gasped at the sight. “It’s a scrapbook!” You excitedly said. You read what’s written on the cover, and it says, ‘My Favorite Moments with You.’ You grew pink as you read the words quietly.

This means, he has a lot of favorite moments with you if it was bounded together like this.

You flipped to the first page, admiring the design how it was littered with both a grunge look with flowers and colors. But then your eyes landed on the very first picture.

It was a blurry picture of you about to sneeze.

And then you look at the note right next to it.

You look cute when you’re about to sneeze. Hehe. :>

You turned to Changbin where he was already smiling. You were mildly irritated he chose this picture—because you remember this moment well, and it annoyed the heck out of you—but you couldn’t get mad at him, knowing he was grinning at you so purely.

So you continued to flip through pages, being greeted with more and more blurry candid pictures of you. It didn’t even annoy you anymore, it actually made you laugh along with Changbin.

The more you flipped pages, however, the more frequent steady and beautiful pictures came. Some you even couldn’t remember him taking. The design also became more gentle—no more of the grunge look, and all was left were the flowers and pastel colors. The notes also became more, sincere; not like the others were insincere, you just felt they were too playful.

But these ones, oh, you felt that Changbin was speaking to you with all his heart and mind.

Changbin also became quiet; him looking at you and waiting and observing your every reaction.

Until you got to the last page.

It was a photo of you, with your back turned from him. A photo beside it was when you turned to him with a really bright smile.

The design at this page was only with a single dried flower at the very bottom of the page. At the top left corner, was written:

You are my favorite moment. I’m sorry if I haven’t made you feel that way.

You didn’t know you were crying, only when a droplet came to contact with your hand, did you notice.

You turned to Changbin with teary eyes and pouty lips. Your reaction prompted him to cup your face in his hands, brushing away the tears that gathered in your eyes.

“You’re crying,” Changbin whispered quietly, his tone lacing with sadness.

“Yeah, no shit.” You chuckled, but he looked worried. “I just…this is the sappiest gift I’ve ever received in my entire life.” You looked at him before continuing, “and I love it so much.” You said, heat rising up to your face at the honest admission.

You sighed, however. Holding on to Changbin’s hand that was still cupping your face, you spoke. “Don’t say sorry, because I feel the same way. You’re my favorite moment as well.”

Your past self would have probably hurled at that, but right now, you only felt absolute love and affection, that you didn’t mind spitting the sappiest things to ever exist in the world.

Changbin smiled, oh so gently, that it made your heart cry out at how he can look at you with so much love. “I love you.” He whispered to you, knocking your foreheads together very affectionately, as he dipped in to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

It was a good thing that you both were at a secluded booth at the back of the family restaurant. You really wouldn’t want anyone to take in the moment you both shared.

[chitsangenthusiast]

can i get an uhhhhh zukka fluff number 10?

me, walking in two days late with a venti caramel flat white: hey lol

(sorry for this lateness! i wasn’t expecting to be so exhausted after irl stuff this weekend BUT in my defense you did give me the hair braiding prompt so. really. ofc it was gonna get out of hand and need more time lmaooooo rip)

i hope you enjoy!!

the prompt: "stop moving and let me braid your hair"

"Ugh, I’m so going to get sick. This sucks.”

Zuko lightly knocks an elbow into his chest and starts separating the hair next to his temple into three small groups.

“I woke up sick and you woke up next to me. Hate to break it to you, love, but it’s going to happen regardless," he states, then elbows him again when Sokka moans in sorrow. “You're such a baby. Stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

“Bossy,” Sokka grumbles, but he does bring his free hand to rest on his husband’s thigh while he works, and shoots him a small, grateful smile.

(the full ficlet under the cut!)

—

The sound of his husband’s footsteps has Sokka turning—and he’s met with the sight of Zuko already glaring at him before he can even properly raise a judgmental brow.

“I thought I told you to stay in bed?” he asks anyway, and rolls his eyes in amusement when Zuko petulantly crosses his arms with an annoyed sniff.

And then sniffs again, harder, in a useless attempt at clearing his clogged nose.

“I heard Izumi,” he says, and immediately has to cough a few times into his elbow to try to smooth down the dry, painful rasp in his throat.

Sokka just snorts, and doesn’t come closer.

Instead, he repositions their daughter so that her sleepy face can be better seen across the room. Covered in her favorite blanket and wrapped tight around her dad’s shoulders, she looks exhausted. Her eyes only barely open from being jostled around, acknowledging her baba’s presence before slipping shut again with a small whine, and Zuko’s pulse can’t help but trip over the sickly flush on her own cheeks or the tiny wet coughs she occasionally lets out. He quickly steps into the room toward her.

“Uh, what do you think you’re doing?”

Sokka’s derisive tone stops him from getting too far. It’s softer, not it’s usual brash volume in an effort to be gentle on Izumi’s ears (and Zuko’s headache), which means it’s also entirely ineffective.

Zuko stares hard at him as he determinedly makes his way over, and Sokka lets out a loud groan.

“Hon, you’re sick! Get back in bed!” he tries again, this time in mounting horror when Zuko starts to get close, and he quickly pivots so that her body is blocked from view by his own. “She doesn’t need any more of your germs!”

“It’s just a cold, Sokka. Don’t be ridiculous,” Zuko scoffs—then has to cough into his elbow again before he can continue. He ignores the exasperated look he gets. “It’s just colds for both of us. Let me see my daughter, she’s not going to get any sicker if I’m around her.”

“Alright, well, you just saw her,” Sokka shoots back. He still hasn’t moved Izumi back into Zuko's line of sight, in case he tries to reach out and take her from his arms. “Now go lay down until I can come take care of you next.”

The complaint is heavy but without heat, and it makes Zuko finally look up at him with a frown. This close, he can see the clear exhaustion on his husband’s face; Izumi had come to his bedside early in the morning, sniffling and tearfully frustrated from not feeling well, so Sokka has been the one up with her all morning, alternating between taking care of her and passing along messages to the attendants about Zuko’s cancellations for the day since, naturally, he also woke up sick. He’s only half-dressed for work, with scruff still on his jaw and his hair draped over the shoulder that Izumi isn’t resting on, and Zuko’s mouth twists in quiet guilt.

“Your hair’s not done,” he blurts out, knowing better but too tired to think of a better way to phrase it, and Sokka grumps at him.

“Yeah, well, between a fussy sick husband and a poor little one who refused to be put down all morning—” here, he drops a quick kiss on Izumi’s head and rubs a sympathetic hand up her back— “I haven’t really had the time to put it up for the day yet.”

Zuko cuts a glance to the clock. “Don’t you have a meeting in an hour?”

He winces at Sokka’s hard sigh.

“I’ll just—” Suddenly, Izumi lets out a big sneeze, quickly followed by an agitated cry, and Sokka shifts her around so that she’s better cocooned in his arms as he starts to sway a little to calm her. “I’ll get to it eventually. Or I’ll just show up like this and guilt everyone into doing what I want. Could be a good tactic actually, I think some of the committee members are parents who would empathize.”

“Let me do it for you.”

Sokka immediately steps away from him with a deep frown. “Nope, keep your sick hands away from me. I’m the only one left!”

“I won’t get you sick,” Zuko snaps, and doesn’t care about Sokka’s complaining as he drags him over to the couch to gently push him down into the cushions. Izumi fusses, wiggling against her dad’s hands so that she can pull away from his shoulder—then does a hard tilt over, startling both of her fathers as she dives into the pillow right next to Sokka’s leg.

“Izumi!”

As soon as her head hits the cool fabric, she lets out a happy, relieved noise and snuggles down into it. Her blanket comes up tighter around her shoulders, her feet shuffle around slightly in Sokka’s lap as she works to get comfortable, and she doesn’t even bother giving either of her dads the time of day before closing her eyes to try to find sleep.

Zuko promptly plops down next to his husband, shocked and a little woozy. “She’s not allowed to hang out with Toph anymore.”

“Does she think she’s an earthbender, just falling back like that without a care?” Sokka quietly seethes back in agreement. One of his hands comes down to wrap around her ankle as he lets out an explosive sigh, and he drops his head heavy against the back of the couch. “The two of you are going to be the death of me, I swear.”

Zuko pouts. “I haven’t even done anything yet today.”

“You’re out of bed when I told you not to be,” Sokka fires back, then quickly leans away when he notices the hands reaching out for his hair. “Ugh, I’m so going to get sick. This sucks.”

Zuko lightly knocks an elbow into his chest and starts separating the hair next to his temple into three small groups.

“I woke up sick and you woke up next to me. Hate to break it to you, love, but it’s going to happen regardless," he states, then elbows him again when Sokka moans in sorrow. “You're such a baby. Stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

“Bossy,” Sokka grumbles, but he does bring his free hand to rest on his husband’s thigh while he works, and shoots him a small, grateful smile.

The sight makes Zuko press a tiny kiss into the braid. “You know, I missed getting my ‘good morning’ kiss from you.”

Sokka immediately snorts. ��Izumi got all my kisses this morning, sorry babe. I’ll give you one when you can finally breathe through both nostrils again.”

“Too long,” Zuko complains back, as he finishes off one of the braids. With Izumi half draped over his lap, Sokka will likely only be able to wear the two on his right side today since Zuko can't really get to the other side of his head, so he moves to start pulling his hair up into a wolf tail.

Sokka hums, and looks over with an sad, wistful smile. “Yeah, I can agree with that.”

With his hair held up in a fist, Zuko can now see the bare stretch of his husband’s neck, along with the dark fuzz of hair on his scalp that will need to be shaved at some point. He spends more time than necessary trying to catch any flyaways, sliding his hand up and around his head just so he can relish this moment of touch, and smiles at the quiet sigh he receives.

“I love you,” Sokka murmurs, one hand still on their daughter’s foot and the other rubbing light circles on his husband’s thigh. Zuko chuckles as he makes quick work of securing the wolf tail.

“I love you too,” he whispers back, and then leans in. He takes a moment, just a quick one, to press his warm forehead against Sokka’s skin—his body temperature does nothing too soothe, but Zuko’s spirits are still wonderfully lifted anyway—before pulling back to leave a lingering kiss on that same spot.

“There, without any worries of catching my cold.”

Sokka’s responding exhale is fulfilled, contented, and definitely whiny. Zuko drops another kiss there, just so he can appreciate the whining part again, then presses a few more along his hairline because the elated inhale he gets is too good not to be rewarded.

And then he keeps going, covering his husband’s head in little kisses as he loosely wraps his arms around his shoulders—only to be surprised into a long, firm kiss when Sokka suddenly (carefully, to not disturb a snoozing Izumi) twists around to pull him close. Zuko laughs into it, utterly pleased at finally getting what he’s wanted all morning, and curls around his husband as they indulge themselves in kiss after sweet kiss.

“You’re definitely going to get sick now,” he eventually mumbles into Sokka’s mouth, but he doesn’t pull away, and neither does Sokka.

He does let out a long-suffering laugh though, and lands a quick kiss on the space right between Zuko’s eyes. “Oh, I'm well aware, hon. Izumi kept blowing raspberries in my face earlier. Like I said, the absolute death of me.”

Still, the fingers that have found their way into Zuko’s hair push on the back of his neck anyway, beckoning.

Zuko grins, and dutifully falls back in to collect more of his husband’s kisses.

[ahatintimepieces]

In Want of Stitching

I am delighted to present another little fic for the build-a-bear au by @smieska-draws​‘ and me! Smieska generously offered to let me post her incredible art above^ with this fic where Hattie is reunited with her favorite doll from her childhood! The doll is worse for wear, but Hattie knows just how to help! Be sure to give Smieska your love, and if you missed it, the previous fic is here. Without further ado, enjoy!

Words: 4,180

Hattie kicked her legs as she perched on the table in the breakroom. One hand was propped back, nestled between Dimitri’s bag and her backpack, and the other held her dwindling milkshake left over from dinner. While she waited for her dad to finish up with the last customer before closing, she watched Dimitri fuss with the supplies on the shelves.

He struggled to pull out one of the drawers and the sharp jostle of the handle caused the whole structure to shift. He froze and Hattie’s eyes widened as they waited to see if the cleaning items up top would tumble. While the bottles wobbled like a spinning toy wavering to a stop, they stilled without any avalanche and Dimitri and Hattie relaxed.

“I’m just going to deal with that in the morning,” Dimitri huffed, turning around. “Don’t tell your dad.”

Hattie gave him a thumbs up as she reached the dredges of her milkshake and the straw gurgled as it sucked air between the last of the frosty cream. While he crossed over to the rack of aprons, her gaze drifted down to the floor. The off-kilter shelf had shifted away from the wall, revealing a large dust bunny.

Narrowing her eyes, she tried to get a better look at the mound of grey that seemed to cover something else.

“See ya tomorrow, kid?” Dimitri prompted, snapping his name tag against the magnet on the wall.

“Probably!” She lifted her chin.

“Boss says a daycare center has scheduled a trip to the mall, so we might be busy,” he sighed, reaching for his bag. She scooted out of his way and nodded.

“That could be fun. But also noisy,” she offered, glancing up as she mentally noted to warn Belle, Mu, and Timmy that they needed to avoid the food court for lunch. Maybe hide in the café connected to the bookstore.

“Noisy is right.” Dimitri swung his bag over his shoulder.

“Will Dad have to work on the floor?” She lowered her empty milkshake.

“I imagine so,” he paused on his way to the door. When she placed the cup down and blew a raspberry as she slouched, he prompted, “why?”

“It just means I have to keep Mu and Timmy away. They’re trying to prove he’s magic and can blow things up with his mind.” Scowling, she swung her legs a little too hard and the table creaked underneath her.

“Is that why they asked him to heat up their—”

“Lunch?” She crinkled her nose. “Yeah.”

Dimitri sucked in air before bursting into laughter.

“They looked so mad when he used the microwave!” he wheezed, gesturing to the other table with the offending appliance. “Mu’s stink eye nearly killed me!”

“It’s dumb,” Hattie grumbled.

Catching her frustration, Dimitri reeled in his laughter and cleared his throat.

“There’s no harm in it,” he tried. “The boss can be a bit eccentric, and it can be fun to pretend, but I’m sure even Mu and Timmy know he’s not actually able to light things on fire or…” he paused, giving her a curious look, “steal souls.”

“They sure act like he does.” She turned away, cupping her chin in her hands.

“Have you told them it bothers you when they fixate on it?” Dimitri asked sympathetically.

“Yeah, and they ignore it because they think he actually does all of those things.” Her glare hardened.

“You could talk to the boss?”

“I don’t want him to know about the rumors.” After a beat, she looked up to meet Dimitri’s blank expression. “What?”

“He knows,” he said dryly. Her jaw dropped and he softened. “Listen, you might want to just talk with him about the whole Snatcher myth if it’s getting under your skin, but it’s not harming anyone. I think it also gets the store more foot traffic from teens, which isn’t usually our intended demographic. So, in a way, it even helps!”

Hattie groaned, flopping onto her backpack and staring at the ceiling.

“Hang in there, kid.” His shoes tapped against the tile as he walked towards the door. “But just talk to him. See you!”

“Night, Dimitri.” She gave a halfhearted wave as he left. Once the door shut, she fixated on the faint buzz of the lights in the breakroom.

Seconds ticked by.

She heaved herself up, bored with staring blankly and too tired to stew in her frustration any longer. After scooting to the edge of the table, she dropped down with her flipflops slapping against the ground. She intended to toss the milkshake cup and pester her dad while he closed the workshop, but her gaze shifted back towards the shelves. The oddly large dust bunny piqued her curiosity once more and she crossed over.

Crouching down, she prodded the clump of hairs and silver dust. A dead fly was caught in the webbing and bits of dirt or crumbs were suspended on the hairs. But when she pressed down, a firm something lay between her and the tile.

Shifting, she pressed her cheek against the wall and peered into the crack between it and the shelf. Behind the dust bunny lay a small doll, crushed and crumpled.

After a precursory check for spiders, she reached back and pinched one of the doll’s puffy sleeves. The dust bunny tickled her finger, and she crinkled her nose in disgust. As soon as the doll was pulled out into the open, she batted the wad of grey from its mitten hand, and the cloud of minuscule debris floated harmlessly to the ground. She gasped when she held the doll out in the light.

Beneath the grey streaks of grime, a missing button eye, the torn right arm, and a left hand hanging by a single thread, was the prince doll that she had loved so dearly when she was younger. Her heart soared, but the doll’s state soon had guilt souring her joy.

It had been ages. The last time she saw the doll, he had been a bit worn, but still intact. She had been near inconsolable when she lost him. Her dad promised to get her a new, better doll, but she loved the prince doll because of all the memories they shared. Despite all her searching and tears back then, her dad urged her to move on as the doll had continued to elude her. And no wonder! All this time, the doll had been in the breakroom rather than home. He must have somehow fallen behind the shelf at the workshop when she had been playing, only to be shoved deeper and deeper into the dark over the years.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, frowning at the frayed threads where a button used to be. When she poked the remaining button, it wobbled, threatening to soon snap away as well. She brushed back the yarn hair, covered in dust that caused the chestnut hue to appear murky. The felt crown looked more brown than yellow, and ashen stuffing dripped from the doll’s arm and broken wrist.

But… it was still her favorite doll. Though it had been years, relief surged through her chest.

“I’ll clean you up!” she promised to herself, gently giving the dusty, dilapidated doll a soft hug.

She knew how to sew, at least! And she had the materials at home. She could even surprise her dad! He always reacted positively when she showed him the hats or masks she made.

Scrambling to her feet, she carried the doll over to the table. She grabbed a couple of tissues to wrap him up, both hoping to keep him protected and intact and to prevent the dust from spreading in her backpack. She was just tucking him safely into her bag, nestled between new fabric she got from her millinery lessons earlier and a graphic novel that Timmy recommended, when the door thrust open.

She turned, noting her dad’s slouched posture as he removed his apron, which was common on days he had to both open and close the workshop. Holding his hand over his mouth, he tried to cover a wide yawn, but his sharp fangs still glinted in the light.

“Time to go?” Hattie prompted while zipping up her backpack.

“Finally, yes.” He paused, glancing towards the shelves. “Did Dimitri refill the sewing kits?”

She shrugged in Dimitri-solidarity when her dad turned back around. He accepted it without further prodding and tossed his apron onto a hook.

Hattie slipped on her backpack gently to keep from jostling the doll as her dad pulled out his hair tie and scratched at his scalp. He grabbed his keys and waited for Hattie to shuffle over.

Once he finished locking up and took her hand to lead her through the dark parking lot, she mentally went through the list of supplies she needed to fix up the prince doll. Neither she nor her dad said a word as their footsteps tapped against the still warm gravel. But that was normal for them. Her dad didn’t usually have much to say unless otherwise prompted by people or work, especially when he was tired. So, she continued her quiet pondering all the way home, staring blankly at the streetlights as the radio played family-friendly tunes at a hushed volume.

As soon as they got home, Hattie dashed into her room. She swept her arm across her workbench to clear away the new beret she was making and placed her top hat on the hat display stand her teacher had given her. Since she only had one, it was her favorite top hat that got the place of honor. Then, she dropped her backpack onto the ground and retrieved the prince doll.

He lay on the tissues that were now smeared with grey. Even just folding back the material caused Hattie to swiftly turn away and sneeze, jostling him as he perched on her palm. She’d need to clean the doll, but the open cuts in his arms worried her. After prodding around, she decided it might be better to pluck out the dusty stuffing, since his arms were closed off from his main body anyway. The loose button, too, she thought to remove to ensure easier cleaning.

She got to work, walking back and forth between her room and the bathroom as she ferried supplies. If her dad wondered what she was up to, he didn’t comment as he settled down in the living room to quietly read.

Setting up a doll bath in the sink by lowering the plug, she submerged the doll into the water with iridescent bubbles lining the porcelain. His one arm threatened to come off and his other hand floated at an odd angle. Undaunted, Hattie stuck out her tongue as she scrubbed the dust and cobwebs from his hair. The felt crown popped off at one point, and while she rescued it, the original gilded color seemed beyond saving so she decided to replace it. But she kept the crown nearby so that she could copy the size and shape.

Once the years of neglect were scrubbed away, Hattie drained the sink and rinsed the soap suds from the doll. The chest felt heavy with the water, even more than the lolling head. But hopefully the doll would dry just fine.

While wringing out the water, she tried to squeeze the doll gently, intent on preserving the fragile threads. Finally, she laid him out on a towel and used another to dab up as much water as she could. Wondering if she could borrow her dad’s hairdryer to speed up the process, she hurried into the living room.

“Da-ad,” she called as she padded onto the carpet. “Where’s your hairdryer?”

“Under the sink in my bathroom. Why?” He turned the page of his novel without looking up.

“It’s a surprise.” Arcing around the table, she peeked at the title. She recognized it as Ember’s latest recommendation from her book club. Curious, she slipped over to the armrest where he reclined. She leaned over his shoulder and identified Ember’s annotations that lined the margins in pencil, confirming that she had loved it enough to lend him the book.

“Should I be worried about this surprise?” he asked, unbothered by her hovering.

“Nope!” she chirped cheerfully as she jumped back to face him.

“Carry on, then,” he muttered, his golden eyes flittering back and forth as he read.

The amber light from the lamp behind him skipped across the strands of his hair, painting the coal-colored locks with flickers of iridescent violets. With his cheek pressed into his palm and his elbow on the armrest, his gaze momentarily flickered away from the book as he used his pinky finger to turn to the next page.

“Need something else, kiddo?”

Instead of answering right away, she hopped onto the couch and crawled onto his chest. He held still as she flopped onto her back, staring up at the book.

“Is the story good?” she prompted.

“It’s crafted well.”

“But are you enjoying it?” She tilted her head back into his shoulder. He kept his eyes ahead.

“Not really.” He sounded calm as he said it.

“But you don’t hate it?” she clarified.

“No.” He turned the page.

She sighed, not expecting anything different.

Usually, it didn’t matter. But she didn’t want the same reaction if she asked how he felt about the rumors of the Snatcher. She knew Dimitri thought she needed to talk to him about it but…

“What would you do if you had magic powers?” she asked instead.

“What?” That got him to look down. He quirked a brow and she shrugged.

“If I had magic powers, I would make my top hat like a bag of holding. I could carry all my stuff everywhere and be prepared for anything.”

“Oh.” He relaxed and lifted his gaze back to his novel.

“So, what would you do?” she repeated.

“Hm?”

“What would you do with magic?”

He hummed, lifting his head and reaching over to help steady the book as he turned the page. Once he settled back, he shrugged.

“I’d use it to heat up my coffee.”

For a split second, she wondered if he was also privy to Timmy’s and Mu’s speculations.

“That’s boring.” She narrowed her eyes.

“I’m a boring person,” he provided.

She grumbled and he continued to read. Scooting closer to his arm holding the book, she wedged herself into the crook formed by him and the back of the couch. He shifted slightly, but otherwise let her get comfortable. She curled up so that the side of her head pressed against his chest.

There was a muffled crackling sound, like crinkled paper.

“Hey Dad, do you know about the Snatcher?” She tensed.

“You mean what everyone calls me at work?” He managed a snort. “Or do you mean all that talk of soul-stealing?”

She snapped her head up, baffled.

“Y-you’re okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He met her gaze, though from the way his palm squished his cheek and he leaned back, he seemed far from interested.

“Because it’s not true!” She gestured wildly. “Isn’t that something your dumb books talk about? Unfair deformation of character.”

“I think you mean defamation,” he corrected with a sly grin.

“That too!” she insisted.

“It gets us more customers and makes my job more interesting. So, no. It doesn’t bother me.” He started to tear his gaze away, “But speaking of my dumb books—”

“But you don’t snatch souls or eat them!” She sat up, knocking his book back. He huffed as he lowered his arm. She perched on his stomach. “People are scared of you!”

“There are worst things,” he said in a lackadaisical tone. Since he couldn’t read, he swiveled his head in his chin to look out at the living room. He tapped his sharp nails against his cheek pensively.

“But Dad—”

“Hattie, it doesn’t bother me,” he interrupted, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Didn’t you have something you were in the middle of? The whole Snatcher thing doesn’t matter. It’s not worth getting worked up over.”

She pressed her lips into a tight line to keep from pouting.

“But why doesn’t it bother you?” she tried once more after a moment.

“Kid, that’s enough.” He wiggled his arm trapped behind her back to coax her off. “Go run along.” He suddenly sucked in a breath and covered a noisy yawn. The creases under his eyes deepened as the shadows stretched away from the light.

Hattie deflated.

“Fine,” she grumbled, scooting forward.

He grunted when she leapt off his stomach, but his focus returned to reading without another comment.

Hattie retrieved his hairdryer and returned to her bathroom, where the prince doll remained drenched. She turned the setting to no heat and plugged it in. While the drone of the hairdryer filled the bathroom, she zoned out.

All this time, she had been trying to shelter her dad from the rumors but apparently, she was the only one who cared that people thought he could suck souls out with his fangs like some sort of vampire who loved to sunbathe and didn’t mind garlic.

“It’s not fair,” she muttered under the whirling hairdryer. She glared down at the faceless prince doll. His mitten hand fluttered precariously while the gash in his bicep caught air and caused his arm to fluff up like it had stuffing again.

Her features softened as she carefully tilted the dryer back and forth.

She would rather her dad wasn’t upset by the rumors, which is why she waited so long to say anything, but somehow it felt lonelier than ever when she was the only one who cared.

With a slight slouch, she turned the dryer away and then carefully rolled the doll onto his stomach. She finished drying him out and placed him on a fresh towel while she cleaned up. And though she passed her dad as he returned from the kitchen with a steaming mug while she was on her way to the laundry room, he didn’t question her bundle of towels under his hairdryer.

Her step gained an enthusiastic bounce when she was finally ready to fix the doll. She carried him back to her workbench and gingerly set him down. For reference, she carefully pried the old storybook from her shelf and opened to the most crinkled set of pages, worn from love and constant rereads under her covers at night.

“Here it is, Prince!” She presented the first illustration of the kindly character with puffy sleeves greeting bluebirds, bunnies, and deer. She winced at the doll’s blank face. “Whoops. You can’t see. But don’t worry! I’ll fix that!”

She propped the book back against the worktable and used the beret and open sewing kit to pin it open. After she grabbed a handful of stuffing from her reserves in one of the drawers, found a button to match his eye, and sorted through the spools she’d need, she finally sat down.

Now that the doll was clean, his vibrant crimson coat and purple boots looked just like the illustration. But the blush on his cheeks had faded and one of the stitches meant to look like laces on his boots had frayed. With steady hands familiar with detail work from all her hat making, she looped thread through a sharp needle and got to work.

Fixing the boot and resewing the buttons was a bit tricky, but once the prince had his eyes again, his blank features regained the warmth she remembered. She stuck her tongue out as she restuffed his arms. At first, she wondered if she could add a little muscle definition but no matter how she finagled the lumps, she couldn’t get them to look right.

“Sorry, you’re stuck with noodles for arms,” she lamented dramatically, tugging out the extra fluff.

His large button eyes stared at the ceiling.

The final challenge was stitching his hand back on, and only because the mitten hand was so tiny. She struggled to keep it in place as she threaded the needle through his wrist. After having to backtrack and redo the area a couple times, she eventually got the hand snuggly back into place. The stitches lined his wrist, mostly concealed by the edges of his sleeve.

Then, she only needed to close the tear in his bicep and was able to hide the work under the gold band of his puffy shoulder. Once she placed the scissors down after snipping the final thread, she leaned back with an exhale. As she stretched out her back, she appraised her work.

“How do you feel?” she asked, cupping the prince doll and giving his arm and wrist a few squeezes. When she tapped his button eyes to ensure they remained firmly in place, she glanced up at the illustration to compare. She jolted.

“Your crown!” She whirled around, looking for the dull accessory that had popped off during the cleaning. Her head snapped down and she heaved a sigh of relief when she noticed it had fallen onto her carpet.

She grabbed the felt crown and procured a piece of scrap cloth leftover from the bright yellow beret she intended to give to her dad when it was finished. Snipping the dull crown to flatten it out, she traced its pattern on the scrap fabric. After she cut it out, she glued the edges together, careful to keep it seamless as she held the ends with tweezers.

“Perfect!” She held the new crown next to the prince’s head. She found a lump near the base of the yarn hair where the other crown had been glued previously and glued on the new crown its place. Once the glue had dried and the crown remained fastened to his head, Hattie beamed at her work.

“You look perfect!” She leapt to her feet, hugging the doll to her chest. “Let’s show you to Dad!” She darted over to the living room, shouts of excitement welling from her pride, but she skidded to a stop when she found him fast asleep on the couch.

She heaved out a sigh that dissolved into a blown raspberry.

Oh well.

Since even the book flopped open on his chest visibly quivered from his shivering, she crossed over to the wicker basket filled with throws and blankets and grabbed his favorite from the top. She dragged it over him with one hand, but when she reached the book with pages folding at odd angles, she looked from the blanket pinched in one hand and the prince doll cradled in the other.

“Watch him for me for a second,” she whispered to the prince, dropping the blanket and trading him for the book.

Her dad flinched in his sleep at the sudden shift, but she was too busy locating his bookmark on the coffee table to notice. After guessing where he left off, she placed the closed book next to his mug, which still had a puddle of coffee. She turned back around to find her dad twitching.

“Dad?” She reached out but recoiled at how much heat he radiated.

While his eyes remained squeezed shut, his chest jerked under the limp doll. Panicked panting gripped his restless slumber but before Hattie could try to wake him, he turned to his side, flinging the doll away as he twisted. Hattie bent to catch the prince as her dad’s breathing slowly returned to a calmer pace.

She placed the doll back on the table, fretting as she watched her dad’s tight brows relax. His long, spiky black hair tumbled over his sweaty features, but once his exhales fluttered out like a flickering ember, he began shivering again. Hattie crinkled her nose, holding the back of her hand to his forehead covered by hair and then to his clawed fingers.

Almost like ice.

Unsure whether she wanted to wake him after that, she tugged the blanket the rest of the way and watched him for a few seconds longer. He usually felt colder at night, often kindling the image of a campfire dwindling as those around it slept, but his sudden spike in temperature concerned her.

Was he getting sick?

A few more moments passed, and he remained steady. Hattie gnawed on her lip but decided not to worry. If she woke him up when nothing was wrong, he’d just get grumpy. She’d make sure to check on him later, though.

When grabbing the prince doll, she found it trembled in her palm. She tried to meter her own breathing to soothe herself, thinking her dad’s temperature spike had left her more shaken than she realized. She calmed enough to stop shivering after nestling the doll into the plush pile next to her pillow. But as she walked away to get ready for bed, she did not realize that the prince doll continued to tremble on his own.

Slowly, and like a heartbeat that just remembered its pulse.

[seonghwanotes]

730 days | song mingi

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst

word count: 2k

a/n: i personally hate this piece so much, it hits a little too close to home but i wrote it decently and its still cringy gah dayum & there's no part 2 because some things are better off this way

You were in a relationship with Mingi for 2 years now and today was your anniversary with him. Lately, you could never get to go out with him on your monthly anniversaries since he was always busy with work which you understood and didn't mind about. So, you were exhilarated that you finally got the chance to celebrate a special day with him today.

You got dressed pretty early and drove to his house because you knew that he would be late or forget that you both had a date planned out since he hasn't texted you all day long.

While you were driving to his place, you turned up the volume on the radio and drove silently. The memories of when you first met Mingi flooded into your mind as you drove by the familiar street.

You fell in love with Mingi the second you saw him at a distant friend's birthday party. He was avoiding people at the party so it wasn't that hard for you to start a small talk with him. That night was definitely one of the best nights you've had, Mingi didn't even hesitate talking to you, in fact even when everyone had left, you both were still chatting away without realising it was late night.

You let out a small laugh as you drove into the street that Mingi lives at when you thought about the day he confessed to you. You had been talking to him everyday for a few months now and there was a misunderstanding between the two of you which resulted in a fight. Mingi being the gentleman he is, came to your doorstep late at night apologising and also, confessed his feelings for you.

And ever since, things have been going amazing between the two of you. Or so, you thought.

You reached the place and parked your car in front of his porch, turning off the engine before you walked to his doorstep. You felt nervous, as if it was your first date with him. Your hand reached the doorbell and clicked on it.

"Coming!"

You took a few steps back, knowing that his tall figure would accidentally bump into you by accident if he was about to walk out. Within seconds, he opened the door and came out. The smell of his cologne immediately flooded your surroundings, making you flinch a little, followed by a loud sneeze.

He was in the middle of locking his house door when his head turned to your direction, "Everything alright?"

You nodded, rubbing your nose. You managed to steal a glance at him, he was clad in a pair of light blue jeans along with an oversized white shirt, a denim jacket over it. You, on the other hand, wore jeans as well and a flowy blouse with your hair let down.

"You look pretty," He commented, making you realise he was done locking his door. You smiled at his compliment and returned one to him, "You look handsome as well."

"Where do you wanna go?" He asked, holding your hand as you both started walking. Everytime Mingi touched you, it would make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. This time, you didn't feel anything at all, not coming off as a surprise to you anymore.

"I don't know, I told you I didn't mind any place." You replied back.

"It's okay, it's better if you choose a place. I don't want to argue with you later about this." He said.

You looked at him with furrowed brows, wondering what he meant. Was he really going to argue with you before your date even started? That too, on your anniversary?

It took him a while to realise what came out of his mouth as he looked at you and tried to come up with an excuse. "I mean, I just don't want you to feel unhappy about it later."

You were obviously hurt from what he said earlier but you didn't want to show it to him, knowing that he would try to convince you to not feel this way. You hummed at his statement and looked at him, "Let's just go to McDonalds, I guess."

"McDonalds?"

"Didn't you tell me to choose a place?" You questioned him, starting to feel tired with his questions. You managed to catch him sigh and roll his eyes before he turned away, clenching his jaw.

Your relationship with Mingi was falling apart, that was for sure.

The first year together, everything was perfect and you had almost no arguments at all. You both went on dates a lot and took things up a notch. It felt like paradise whenever you were with him.

However in your second year, you felt like things started to lose its authenticity slowly. You began to argue with Mingi over the pettiest things and so did he. You've cried more during arguments with him than out of stress that now if you argued with him, you felt so numb and tired.

The relationship was getting toxic day by day.

"What's your problem now?" He finally asked, leaving a scar on your heart again with his blunt question.

"What's my problem?" You quivered, tears were starting to form in your eyes. You let go of Mingi's hand and asked him, "Why are you always arguing with me, Mingi?"

The look of fury turned into sorrow on Mingi's face as he heard your voice crack when you asked him that question. He knew that you had reached your point, you couldn't hold it in anymore. He had hurt your feelings to that point.

Yet, he didn't show any sign of pity towards you when he questioned you back. "Why are you like this? We've been fighting almost everyday."

You were on the verge of crying as tears collected in your eyes. "Why am I like this? Are you really asking me why I am like this? I've been trying my best to save our relationship every time it has been falling apart and you're asking me why am I like this? When are you going to realise that you have been screwing up our relationship, Mingi?"

He flinched at the mention of his name. You had never used his name before when you were together unless you were pissed or sometimes, jokingly. You had never used it when you were arguing as well. So it took him by surprise that his name left your mouth that day.

"Baby…"

Even him using pet names on you made you shiver, you knew it wasn't genuine anymore. He had stopped using pet names for weeks now, you didn't want to hear anything anymore. You looked at him in the eyes, hoping for him to tell you that it's okay and we would be alright. But he didn't.

Even though he put in more effort into your relationship compared to you, he was also the one hurting you the most that it was starting to drive you crazy. You loved him, you loved him with your whole heart and you didn't want to let him go. But in order for you to be alright again, you had to let him go.

Which resulted in you saying those words that you never expected yourself to say when you started dating Mingi.

"I think it's best for us to break up."

You both remained silent for a while, until you started sobbing and looked down. You hated this so much. You didn't want to show him that you were weak and vulnerable. You were at your lowest and you knew you couldn't hold it in anymore.

Mingi's hand reached to touch yours but you jerked away. "Please don't."

He immediately took his hand away and stood still in front of you. Seeing that he was quiet, you knew he was speechless and was thinking of what to say. You didn't want to look at him as well knowing that you would start to cry harder.

At the same time, you wanted him to ask you to stay. You wanted him to tell you that he was willing to fix things between the two of you. You wanted him to tell you that he loves you and he doesn't want you to leave him.

But he did nothing.

You didn't want to leave him, heck, it was stupid of you to even initiate the break up. but, you were not wrong. Mingi didn't even bother begging you to speak or wipe away your tears as he would.

You didn't want to assume things, perhaps he was hiding his pain as well as you did. Maybe it was going to take him some time to realise how fucked up the relationship was.

"Okay." He breathed out, a croak following along as he looked away.

You looked up at him, "Okay?"

"Yeah, let's break up." He said, making eye contact with you as you watched a tear roll down his cheek. You wanted to hold his cheek, wipe his tears and say that it was okay. You wanted to kiss him like there was no tomorrow.

But you didn't.

Instead, you started to cry. You covered your face with your hands as you cried in front of him. You didn't want to leave him, you knew very well you were still wrapped around his finger. You wanted to call him everyday, you wanted to text him good night and I love you everyday. You wanted to give him kisses every time he was sad after watching movies. But that wasn't going to happen.

You felt a pair of warm hands engulf you into a hug, hot tears dropping onto your blouse and Mingi held you tight for one last time. You dropped your hands and hugged him back, crying on his chest that you were starting to lose air.

You knew very well if you stayed in that position for a little longer, you would tell him that you were sorry and you would tell him to forget what you said. So, you pulled away from his hug. Mingi's eyes were red and puffy, he sniffed and looked up at the sky, holding back his tears.

You kissed him back for a brief second before he pulled away. His hand remained intact on your cheek, "It's okay Y/N, you don't have to apologise. I understand where you're coming from."

You couldn't help it. It broke you to see him in pain and you didn't want to see him in that situation ever. So, you opened your mouth to speak but Mingi stopped you by asking, "Can I kiss you one last time?"

Your eyes were glazed, you didn't know what to say. This was really it. This was happening for real and you had to accept it. You gave a subtle nod which led him to kiss you out of nowhere. You didn't move, you stood still as his kiss made you feel warm and content for one last time.

You looked down as he said that, shutting your eyes. You took a deep breath, telling yourself that it was okay and heartbreaks are normal. His hands took yours and he kissed them, before he talked to you.

"Just promise me that you won't give up on love because of what happened between us."

You had no words, you didn't even know what to say to him. You remained quiet for a while. He let go of your hands, "I love you Y/N, I always have and I always will. I'm sorry for hurting you all this while and not owning up to my mistake."

"I'm sorry too Mingi," Your voice croaked, you weren't able to tell the former cause it hurt too much in you to say it back.

"Just…" He paused, looking hesitant to continue his sentence. You could tell he wasn't going to continue his sentence knowing your answer, "Text me when you get back home."

After he said that, he walked back inside his house, leaving you alone at his porch - a crying mess. You got into your car and cried for a good 10 minutes. You wanted him to come out and kiss you, tell you to come inside and convince you to stay.

But you were both too egoistic for that. He knew you wouldn't bother his words, nor would you if he asked you to give him another chance. You looked up at his window, you saw his shadow through his sheer curtains and you could make out that he was crying as well.

No matter how much you loved him, you had to end your relationship before everything felt forced and fake. Before everything was merely a show. It was better to give your all in the relationship instead of giving only half or nothing.

So you drove back home.

[myrandomfandomramblings]

Making memories - a Chenford fanfic

For Chenfordficweek2021 - as described by @therookiebook

Instead of a fic a day for chenford fic week I decided to just write one incorporating as many prompts as possible. This is because when I read them a few just connected in my head and then I had way to much fun seeing how many I could kinda incorporate. Some of the quotes aren’t word for word but the lines are inspired by the original prompt.

*Note: my beach fic was also inspired by this prompt list but I got antsy and posted it early so if you haven’t read it, you can check it out.

Main prompt: Road Trip

Other prompts:

July 11th- 

"Is that you...singing? Since when can you sing?" 

"I wish we could stay like this forever." 

Fight 

"You're comfier than a pillow." 

July 12th- 

With Child(ren)- theirs or not

"I fucked up."

"Where have you been?" 

July 13th- 

"You're crushing me." "I can't breathe with you on me." 

"Stay here." 

"What do you want?" 

July 14th- 

"I'm calling the police." "We are the police." 

"Don't move." 

"That a new dress?" 

Sweet tooth

July 15th- 

Locked out (Car/house/station) 

"Stop hogging all the blankets." 

"Why are you bleeding?" 

"Make me." 

July 16th- 

Shopping together or for the other 

Getting lost

"Is that my shirt?" 

Under the stars

July 17th- 

Competition 

Tears 

"Why are you so late?" 

When Lucy arrives in role call and hears she’s partnered with Tim for the day, she’s excited. When she hears they are to wear civvies and take Tim’s truck to surveil a suspect, she’s confused. And when said suspect drives further and further out of LA and they are instructed to keep on his tail, she’s annoyed. If she didn’t know better she’d think some writer designed the assignment purely because it was convenient for their story. Nevertheless, this is her life: crashing at a random hotel nearly nine hours from LA, after finally being relieved of surveillance detail, by the local sheriffs department, at 2:30am. The plus side is she’s being paid overtime, not only for the late night but also for the commute back to the city tomorrow. The down side is despite being exhausted she twists and turns all night unable to get comfortable in the strange environment. So when Tim knocks on the adjoining door between their rooms at 10am she’s already been up for a few hours. She has written a journal entry in her notes, preordered drinks for them to pick up at Starbucks and spent more time than she’d like to admit on google maps and various travel sites researching their trip home. She has also found time to plunder the continental breakfast and is currently demolishing a strawberry danish and a cinnamon bun. This earns criticism from Tim, whose plate carries sausage, eggs and an orange.

By 11am they’re on the open road again, coffees in the console between them. The small talk they had been making since they left the hotel had slowly died out so now they sit in comfortable silence. That is until Lucy reaches over to turn on the radio. 

“You know how I feel about car radios Chen,” Tim warns in his best TO voice. 

“Even off shift?” Lucy scoffs, and continues to press the on button and turn the volume dial up. Nevertheless, nothing happens.

“Looks like it doesn’t work anyway,” Tim states as he continues to hold the volume down button on the steering wheel, unbeknownst to Lucy.

“Fine then I’ll be the radio.” “You like Lady Marmalade, right?” She’s referencing Tim’s LA CLEAR security answer but she doesn’t wait for his reaction or reply before beginning to belt out the opening lyrics.

As she sings his initially surprised expression, morphs to shock and then awe. 

“Since when can you sing?” he asks when she finishes.

She just shrugs, looking down at her hands as they begin to fiddle in her lap.  

“Now I wish the radio really was broken,” Tim states as he turns it on and music starts playing.

Lucy shoots him a quick death glare before turning her attention back out the window.

---

By noon Lucy’s singing quietly along to the music (causing Tim to reevaluate his opinion on car radios) when she suddenly sneezes then freezes as her eyes go wide.

“Ah, can you stop at the next place with a bathroom?” she asks bashfully.

“We haven’t even been driving that long can you hold it?”

“Find me a bathroom or your truck will be covered in blood,” Lucy says, her tone conveying urgency.

“What? Why are you bleeding?” Tim asks, confused.

“If you don’t know why I, a woman, would be bleeding and thus need a bathroom then the public school system failed you.”

 “Oh, ah, right, sorry,” Tim stutters, “I think there’s a small town at the next exit.”

“Thank-you,” Lucy replies clearly relieved.

“Do we need to find a drug store or do you have what you need?’

“Ya, if you could find a drug store.” She’s fiddling again, unable to shake the feeling of embarrassment even though she knows, rationally, she has nothing to be embarrassed about.

Several minutes later Tim’s pulling into the drug store parking lot and Lucy’s unbuckling her seat belt to run in. But as soon as she stands up Tim’s voice stops her.

“Wait Luce.” There’s a tenderness to his voice especially when he uses the new nickname that stops her more than the instruction itself. “I think we’re too late.” 

Lucy looks down at the seat she just vacated to see its center now decorated with a dark red stain. A matching stain is present on the butt of the long yellow dress she’s wearing. 

“Of course,” she spits as she tries to fight back tears that are already running down her cheeks.

“That a new dress?” Tim questions awkwardly, caught off guard by the sudden display of emotion.

Lucy lets out a choked laugh as Tim flounders to find something helpful to say.

“I ruined your truck, I ruined my dress and now I have to walk around the drug store with a giant stain on my ass,” Lucy sniffs.

“Hey Lucy, everything’s going to be okay.” He reaches across the console to put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay here. I’ll go in and get what you need.”

She stares at him surprised and unsure. The idea of him buying her tampons and pads and, she realizes, new underwear seems uncomfortably intimate.

“So, ah, what do you want?”  

Because she has no desire to walk around the store with a giant blood stain on her butt she gives him her order, eyes down, face turning redder by the second.

He just nods and returns a few minutes later with three grocery bags and immediately hands them to her.

Inside she finds much more than she requested. The first bag contains two chocolate bars, two bags of candy, and two bottles of water. The second holds 6 different packages of assorted pads and tampons.

“How much blood do you think someone loses on their period,” Lucy teases.

Tim gives a small shrug. “I didn’t know which kind you wanted.” 

Inside the third bag Lucy finds a bottle of Advil, a package of wet-wipes, a spray bottle of stain remover, a new package of underwear (simple white cotton), a pair of black tights and a box of black garbage bags. 

“What are these for?” she asks holding up the garbage bags.

“They didn’t have any shirts so I thought we could make some head and arm holes and-“ he stops talking when he sees Lucy’s unimpressed expression. “I know it’s not ideal.” 

“Good thing I already have that figured out,” she says holding up a plaid button up. 

“Is that my shirt?” He had taken it off as soon as he got in the car, since like usual he had a henley underneath, and thrown it into the back. Lucy must of retrieved it while he was in the store. 

“Please,” she says fixing him with those puppy dog eyes. “I promise I won’t get blood on it. Well, I’ll do my best. Please don’t make me wear a garbage bag.” 

He laughs. “I forgot I had that. I guess I didn’t need these.” He takes the garbage bags from her and is about to throw them in the back when Lucy speaks up.

“Actually I’ll take one,” she says ripping the cardboard and freeing a single bag. She proceeds to rip a hole in the top of the garbage bag and pulls it over her legs like a skirt. Then she puts Tim’s plaid shirt on overtop. Tim is watching her with raised eyebrows.

“What? It’s just temporary. I promised I wouldn’t get blood on your shirt.” She puts everything she needs in her bag and goes into the bathroom to clean herself up. When she returns Tim is just finishing cleaning the blood off the passenger seat. 

“I would have done that.”

 “It was no trouble.” “Here spray some of this on your dress before the stain sets,” Tim offers as he hands her the stain remover.

Lucy does then drapes her dress over the backseat.

“Ready to go,” Tim asks.

 Lucy nods and by 1pm they’re back on the road.

 ---

By 2pm they’re both hungry and decide to stop for lunch. The place they choose is a fast food joint connected to a gas station. It’s busy. Probably because it’s the only place to eat for miles around. While they wait in line to order, Lucy goes to use the bathroom, only to find another line just as long. She decides to try the gas station bathroom instead, telling Tim that she’ll be right back but if he gets to the front first he knows her order. He goes to argue but she’s already gone, which is probably a good thing since he has no rebuttal, considering it’s the truth. 

A few minutes later Tim has their food: a veggie burger with extra pickles and fries for her and a burger and fries for him, but she still isn’t back. He wanders over to the gas station to find her standing in line at the register. 

“Put the candy back Chen.”

“Make me,” she says shaking the bags as she holds them by her shoulders.

Tim reaches for them but Lucy moves to evade his grasp. “Too slow,” she teases.

“You’ve already had two pastries, one bag of candy, a chocolate bar and a frappa-cappa-crapacciuno or whatever.”

“It was a chai tea latte and you know it.”  

“It was more sugar than anything and we still have more candy in the car. You’re going to give yourself diabetes.” 

She shrugs. “It’s not a road trip without excessive amounts of junk food.” 

“It’s not a road trip. It’s a commute home.” 

“It’s whatever we make it,” she says as she taps her card to pay for the candy. 

They find a state park a few minutes up the road and unpack their lunch at one of the picnic tables. They talk as they eat, familiar banter flying across the table. As they near the end of their food Lucy is animatedly telling a story about a recent arrest. She has a french fry in one hand and as she gestures, a little too aggressively, a glob of ketchup flies off the end of the fry and right into Tim’s face. 

She sinks down a little in her seat and covers her mouth to try to suppress a laugh.

“Did you just throw ketchup at me Chen?” he glares as he slowly removes the offending condiment.

“Not on purpose,” she giggles.

“If you start a fight you better be prepared to finish it,” he says as he rips open a package of mustard and squirts it at her.

Although it has poor projectile power a small amount lands in Lucy’s hair. She looks back at him mouth wide. “That was on purpose. That’s assault. I’m calling the police.”

“We are the police,” Tim deadpans as he rips the top off another mustard package.

“You wouldn’t” Lucy warns as she opens a mayo.

Then words are abandoned as condiments fly. They go through 5 ketchup, 3 mustard, 2 mayo, 1 bbq sauce, 1 ranch dressing, 1 aioli and 1 pepper packet before they both surrender. In fact the only packets left untouched are the hot sauce and salt. Both their faces are covered in assorted condiments. Most that had been scooped off the picnic table and smeared directly onto their target when it became clear the packets could barely project their contents a foot. The only one that was truly an effective weapon was the pepper which successfully gave Tim a sneezing fit. 

As they sit back down to finish the last bit of their lunch Lucy picks up a fry and runs it along Tim’s cheek then throws it in her mouth. 

“Not bad,” she says as Tim makes a face of disgust.

When the last fries are gone they throw out their garbage, wipe down the picnic table, then turn their attention to themselves.

“It’s a good thing I bought these wipes,” Tim says as he passes one to Lucy. 

She laughs as she takes it and begins to wash her face. 

“Did I get it all?” she asks when she thinks she’s done. “Because you didn’t,” she adds as she reaches up to wipe the side of his mouth.

He’s startled at first then his expression morphs into something she can’t quite read but something that makes her linger just a little longer than strictly necessary. Then she steps away and climbs into the drivers seat and by 3pm they’re back on their way.

---  

By 4pm Lucy’s in the middle of a seemingly endless monologue about the bachelor franchise when she looks over to realize that Tim is fast asleep. She would be insulted but instead she sees it as an opportunity. She starts to take every turn she can. Whenever she comes to an intersection she turns on to the smallest street. By the time Tim wakes up, about half an hour later (of course he would have is body trained to nap the ideal more than 20, less than 40 minutes), they are in the middle of nowhere. She waits until he’s fully awake then slams on the brakes.

“I’ve been shot. Where are we, Tim?” she demands in her best Tim Bradford voice. He looks out all the windows to see nothing but ranches then back at her, confusion clear on his face.

“Did you get us lost just so you could prove a point?” His tone an odd combination of annoyance and amusement.

“We’re not lost I’m taking the scenic route.” 

 “I’m pretty sure the scenic route is supposed to run along the ocean not through the desert in the middle of no where.” 

“We’re not in the middle of no where we are North of Martinus Corner at the intersection of Cross Rd and and Lockwood Jolon Rd,” she brags. 

“Great you know where we are. Do you know how to get us back onto the main road?”

“It’s not all about the destination, you know, It’s about the journey,” Lucy offers. “When’s the last time you did something just for the fun of it.”

“We go for a hike or a walk along the beach with Kojo every weekend.”

“I know I’m fun to be around,” she teases, “but that’s an errand, Tim, the dog needs exercise.” 

“I see your point but what are we supposed to do in the middle of ranch land? You want to go cow tipping?”

“We won’t be in ranch land for long,” Lucy replies, but half an hour and at least twenty turns later they’re still surrounded by fields and livestock.

“Will you admit you’re lost now?” Tim asks.

Lucy sighs, “Fine, can you please google map how to get to Route 1”

“We were on 5.”

“5’s the freeway. 1’s the scenic route,” Lucy explains. “the one that runs along the ocean.”

Before Tim can bring up the app they’re emerging into a small city centre. As Lucy continues down the main street she excitedly points ahead. 

“Let’s go bowling,” she says indicating the bowling alley sign.

“I thought you wanted to go to the ocean.”

“We can still take the scenic route home, after we go bowling.”

Tim sighs.

“Come on let’s have some fun, make some memories,” Lucy encourages.

“You’re not going to take no for an answer.”

Lucy shakes her head and happily pulls into the bowling alley parking lot.

Several minutes later they have their bowling shoes on and their names entered in the computer on lane 4. Tim goes first and immediately gets a strike.

“You want to put money on this game Chen?” he asks cockily.

“Lucky shot,” Lucy replies. “I’m not betting money but if you win I’ll let you pick the route home but if I win you can’t complain when we take the scenic route.

“Deal,” he says shaking her hand.

Lucy goes next and gets two gutter balls in a row. “Why didn’t we get the bumpers?”

“The bumpers are for kids.”

On her third throw she throws the bowl with two-hands after swinging it between her legs.

“Speaking of for kids,” Tim teases.

“Don’t argue with results,” she counters as her ball connects with the pins.

They continue going back and forth, Tim using the classic one-handed bowling throw and Lucy trying a different technique each time. She tries sitting down and pushing it down the lane, pulling out the ball slide meant for toddlers, standing backwards and throwing the ball between her legs but eventually settles on the two-handed granny throw. 

By half-way through the game Tim’s score is double Lucy’s and he starts to get cocky. He throws with his eyes closed, on one-foot and after spinning in a circle 10 times. 

3 quarters through the game the black lights come on and they laugh at each others teeth glowing in the dark. The disco lights and music follow. Then Lucy who had been giggling and joking around all game suddenly becomes serious. 

“I have two more turns and I really want a strike,” she states. She has a couple spares on the board but strikes remain elusive. Tim on the other hand has three.

“Can I show you? he questions handing her a ball.

He initially tries to coach her through the throw but she isn’t catching on so he steps behind her, puts his hand over hers and leans into her back as he guides her through the motion. The ball knocks over all but one pin but Lucy almost misses it because she’s looking up at Tim. He lets go and steps back.

“You think you can do that on your own next turn?” he asks shaking the huskiness from his voice.

She nods. Tim bowls, then it’s the moment of truth as Lucy throws her ball imaging Tim’s arm along hers, guiding it. The bowl rolls straight down the alley where it connects with the pins and knocks them all down. STRIKE flashes on the computer screen as Lucy jumps for joy then right into Tim for a celebratory hug. He’s initially surprised but is able to catch her and himself before they fall over. He spins them around as she laughs and he’s suddenly really glad Lucy made him stop.

With that the game is over. Tim’s still ahead but the margin had narrowed. They return their bowling shoes and head out to the truck.

“Fine you win this time, we can go back to the interstate but I want a rematch. I’m thinking mini-golf or the arcade,” Lucy says as she pulls out of the parking lot. 

“Nah, go to the 1,” Tim says as he starts to read the directions off his phone.

Lucy looks at him quizzically but doesn’t push her luck. By 6pm they’re driving along the ocean.

---

By 7pm, although it’s not that late, it’s already dark. That combined with her lack of sleep the night before is making Lucy sleepy. When she yawns for the third time in less than 20 minutes Tim suggests they switch drivers. Lucy happily obliges pulling into the next rest stop. During the day it would have a beautiful view of the ocean but now all one can see is darkness. The only evidence of the ocean’s presence being the rhythmic, crashing of waves against the base of the cliff below.

They pull into the abandoned lot; Lucy takes her time backing into a spot, mostly just to annoy Tim and they both get out, reflexively closing their doors behind them. As they pass each other Tim holds his hand out for the keys. 

“I just left them in the ignition,” Lucy explains. Tim looks over to the truck then back to her a look of defeat on his face.

“Your doors lock automatically, don’t they?” Lucy asks rhetorically, “I fucked up.” 

They try the doors just in case but sure enough they’re locked. 

“Well it could be worse,” Tim offers much to Lucy’s surprise, “at least it’s not running.” “I’ll call Angela and see if I can convince her to grab the extra set of keys from my house and come meet us but its going to be a couple hours.” 

Lucy nods. “Thank-you and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tim shrugs, “we’re making memories remember.” Then without another word we walks away from her as he hits a button on his phone and puts it to his ear. The conversation doesn’t last long. Angela obliges but insists that Tim now owes her one. He thinks she still owes him a couple from everything he did as her man of honour but decides now isn’t the time to bring that up. When he hangs up he finds Lucy has lowered the tailgate of his truck, where she now sits. She’s shivering, arms wrapped around herself, but she’s smiling as she looks up at the sky. 

“You can see the stars here,” she explains hearing him approach, “away from the lights and smog of the city.” 

Tim climbs up into the bed of his truck and removes a stack of old moving blankets from the storage box he keeps in the back. 

“Angela’s on her way but in the meantime we should stay warm.” He wraps one around Lucy’s shoulders. Then lays the rest on the floor of the truck bed. 

“Good thing I left these in after helping Tamara move last weekend.” He shimmies his way in-between two layers then taps the spot beside him, inviting Lucy to join. She climbs in beside him eager for more warmth. With the sun gone the temperature had dropped fast. 

Lucy pulls up an app on her phone and hands it to Tim so he can identify constellations for them while her hands and arms stay hidden under the blankets. Then they lay down and look-up at the stars. Tim uses the app to find constellations, points them out to Lucy, then reads the story about them provided by the app. Meanwhile Lucy snuggles deeper and deeper into the blankets. Tim stops in the middle of the story he’s reading about the the swan constellation as the blankets are pulled off his torso. 

"Stop hogging all the blankets,” he complains pulling them back.

“Sorry, I’m freezing,” she confesses. 

He pauses for a second clearly debating something internally before opening his arm out to the side. “Then come closer,” he finally says. 

She hesitates for a second before slowly moving to snuggle against his side. The possibility of warmth far outweighing any awkwardness she’s feeling. She rests her head on his chest. She can feel his heart racing to match her own and can’t help but smile to herself.

“Better?” he asks once she’s finished squirming around trying to maximize her view of the stars and the amount of body heat she’s receiving from him.

”You're comfier than a pillow,” she confirms, nodding. 

Tim doesn’t respond just wraps his arm around her shoulders. He continues to point out constellations and read the stories in Lucy’s app. 

“None of the constellations actually look like their name sakes,” Lucy says after a while.   

“You have to use your imagination.” 

“I could use my imagination to name my own constellations.” 

He shrugs. “Go for it.” 

She finds a cluster of stars that vaguely resembles a duck. She points it out to Tim then makes up a story about a duck that joined the LAPD and saved the city from a gang of geese. When she’s finished she turns to Tim,. “Your turn.”

He gives her his best ‘not happening’ look but he’s met with those pleading brown eyes that hold more power over him than he’ll ever admit and caves almost instantly.

He points out an X made of stars. “That is where the space pirates buried their treasure.” Lucy looks up at him expectantly. “The end,” he finishes.

“That’s your whole story? One sentence.”

“I’m not as creative as you.”

“Then tell a real story,” she says, “here I’ll go first.”

She points to a jumble of stars. “That is Caligula’s toy chest,” she says then proceeds to describe in great detail all the filthy, horrid things she had seen the day he taught her the DEAR method.

“Why would you tell me that?” he asks when she is done.

“Now you share my pain.”

Tim laughs and points at four stars arranged in a rectangle. “That is the phone that was used too much at work.” He spends his entire story essentially mocking her for always being on her phone. Lucy would be annoyed or insulted but the amount of detail he remembers about the completely benign things she has done is kind of sweet and a little exhilarating.

She next finds a ’surf board’ and tells the story of a weekend getaway with some collage friends that ended with a black eye, a broken board and a lot of great memories. 

Tim follows suit finding a ‘football’ and telling the story of a particularly memorable championship game during his high school career. He’s half-way through his story when he interrupts himself. “You're crushing me,” he tells Lucy who is draped over his torso. “What are you even doing?” I can't breathe with you on me."

“I’m tucking in the blanket so our heat doesn’t escape,” she says as she pushes the edge of the blanket under Tim’s side along the length of his body. When she’s done she rolls off of him, cuddles back into his side then tucks the opposite blanket edge under herself. 

When Tim finishes his story they continue to go back and forth, learning more and more about each other each turn. Lucy tells stories from the time she spent travelling and working odd jobs, from her time as a psych major and her time in the academy. Tim talks about his family, his time in the army, and his early years on the force and with Isabel. 

He tells her about a colleague who despite being a great cop made the mistake of using his radio near an explosive and paid for it with his life. He is the reason Tim baby powder bombs every Rookie: so no other good officers will be lost because a critical piece of information was taught so dryly that it couldn’t possibly be recalled under pressure. 

She tells him about her ring as she twirls it around her finger. About how she found it in her grandma’s dress-up chest when she was six and it immediately became her favourite item. How every time she played dress-up the ring was part of the costume, whether she was a princess or a ninja, a cat or a witch, a clown or a police officer. How unlike her parents, who always thought she’d follow their career paths, her grandma always told her she could be anything she wanted. How when her grandma passed away she had found the ring again as she helped her parents pack up her things. How she had started wearing it to feel closer to her. How as she looked at the ring day after day she heard her grandma’s voice in her head:  “You can do anything you put your mind too,”  “the sky’s the limit,” “do what makes you happy.” How that made her realize she was not where she wanted to be and led to her decision to quit her Master’s program.  How her parents had chalked it up to grief and tried to use psychoanalysis to convince her to return. How that had pissed Lucy off and led to her applying to the LAPD. How she had continued to wear the ring as a reminder and motivator during her training. How much it had meant to her to have it returned. How now it not only symbolizes her grandma’s belief in her, but also Tim’s and her own. How it continues to give her strength.

As Lucy talks Tim rubs circles on her back as if connecting the stars that constitute Lucy’s ‘ring’ constellation. 

Just as she finishes she excitedly points up. “Look a shooting star!”

“Make a wish,” Tim advises.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” She surprises herself by how quick and confident that comes out. She hadn’t even thought about it, but it is true. In this moment everything is perfect. She is no longer cold. She is warm and happy in her little burrito with Tim: wearing his shirt, listening to the ocean, surrounded by stars. 

Lucy half hears Tim name a constellation “the best boot I ever trained” and start to tell a Coles notes version of their story but she’s already falling asleep.

She wakes up some time later to Tim shifting beside her. 

“Don’t move,” she groans still half-asleep.“

“Ange is here Luce. It’s time to go home.” 

“Am home,” she mumbles before falling back asleep.

Tim manages to free himself from Lucy and the blankets. He shuffles out of the back of the truck and walks around it to meet Angela who is just getting out of her car.

“Where have you been,” Tim asks. 

“Driving.” 

“I mean, what took you so long?” 

“I thought you might be enjoying your alone time with Lucy more than you’d admit, so I didn’t rush.” 

He wanted to argue but he couldn’t. “Thank-you for coming.”

She shrugs. “Honestly, when your baby refuses to sleep anywhere but a moving car a 4 hour drive is not as inconvenient as it sounds.”

As if to prove her point the infant starts wailing from inside the vehicle.

Before Angela can move Tim’s opening her car door and removing his god child from the car seat. He holds the baby to his chest and starts rocking him. As the baby continues to scream and Tim continues to rock, sway and bounce, Lucy emerges from behind Tim’s truck seemingly woken by the crying.

“There’s my favourite little guy,” she coos as she approaches. “You’ve gotten so big. Next time I see you you’ll be taller than your Uncle Tim,” she continues as she rubs the baby’s back. Despite all the attention the baby continues to fuss.

“He’s hungry,” Angela explains. “Give him this,” she continues handing him a full bottle, “I pumped on the way here.”

“You pumped while driving?”

“It’s called multitasking.”

Tim takes the bottle and offers it to the baby who immediately begins suckling. While the baby drinks Lucy goes back to Tim’s truck and grabs some blankets. She gives one to Angela, drapes another over Tim and the little boy and wraps herself in the last. 

Over the next half an hour Tim and Lucy work together to feed, burp, and change the baby before putting him back in his carseat, all while his mother watches with a very amused expression. When he’s buckled in they say their goodbyes, thank Angela again, then head back to Tim’s truck, which is now unlocked.

By 10pm they are back on the road. They spend the rest of the drive cooing over baby Evers and talking about their own theoretical future kids. While conveniently avoiding any mention of theoretical future spouses or co-parents.

By midnight Lucy is just getting home. As she walks through the door she sees Jackson on the couch watching TV. 

“Why are you so late?” he asks turning towards her.

“Long story.” 

“Is that Tim’s shirt?” 

“Longer story.” 

“Aha,” Jackson says giving her a knowing look.

She just rolls her eyes and goes to get ready for bed. She falls asleep almost immediately and dreams of sweets and stars, babies and bowling and a life with Tim.

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

@sicktember Prompt # 10: Medicine/Injection

Title: Being Neighborly

Fandom: Marvel (Shrinkyclinks AU)

Based on this post (Feeling self for fever) and this post (cold medicine meet-cute)

A new neighbor moves in across the hall from James. When James finds out the newcomer is sick, he does his best to help him. A Shrinkyclinks modern AU. 

James was coming home from work early one morning when noticed he was getting a new neighbor. There were a few boxes stacked in the hallway, and the door to the unit across from him was flung wide open. After a twelve hour shift, James lacked the energy for any curiosity beyond a passing glance as he walked by, and the new tenant was nowhere to be seen. With a shrug, James continued to his own unit, thinking only of bed. 

James caught passing glances of the newcomer over the next few days. It was a young man about James' own age, blond and slight almost to the point of frailty. He had a warm, open face with wide blue eyes and seemed to be very studious--he was always carrying books with him. James wanted to introduce himself, if for no other reason than to be polite, but it never seemed to be a good time. Either he was in a rush, or the stranger seemed to be. 

A few days after the young man moved in, James was standing out on his balcony after work, having a smoke and enjoying the autumn weather. The front door of the building swung open, and his new neighbor appeared. The cold fall breeze immediately had an effect on the small young man-- seconds after stepping out, he sneezed several times, thick and congested-sounding. James considered calling out a blessing, but didn't want to scare him. 

After recovering from the sneezing attack, the newcomer shuffled to the bike rack, looking as if every movement was painful, coughing into his elbow as he went. When he reached his bicycle, he stopped and leaned against it, and after a moment he raised a hand to his face and held it there. At first James couldn't tell what he was doing. Then it dawned on him: he was feeling himself for a fever. Even from a distance, James could see he was feverish though. Only a fever could make a person look so pale and shaky.

James observed the young man the whole time he stood there, wanting to do something for him but unsure exactly what. After a moment the kid sluggishly climbed onto his bicycle and pedaled away in the direction of the university. James watched him go with a small frown, wishing he could have helped him somehow.

His opportunity to help was not long in coming, though. That same evening, not long after he'd woken up, James was startled by a knock at his door. Squinting into the peep hole, he saw his new neighbor standing in the hall, looking uncomfortable and rubbing his nose. James quickly unlatched the door and pulled it open.  

The kid's face lit up when the door opened, as if he'd expected no answer. Close up, James could see he was definitely sick, with dark circles under his eyes and a hectic flush over his face. He was hugging himself tightly, shivering in the cool hallway, but he stood up straighter as he spoke.

"Oh hey! Hi I'mb-- mby name's Steve."  The young man cleared his throat, but it did little to help his rasping, congested voice. "I uh, just mboved in across the hall a few days ago. So I know this is… weird, but I was wonderi'g if you had any… like… cold mbedicine? I hate to asgk, but I forgot to get sumb after school and… I cand't take mby bike oud right ndow…." He nodded out the window, where rain had been pouring down for over an hour. 

"Yeah, of course. Wait here," James said. He left the front door open as he ducked into his bathroom, grabbing Nyquil and Tylenol. When he returned to the entrance, Steve was leaning heavily against the door jamb, looking faint. However, he again stood straighter as James reappeared, a look of gratitude washing over his features. 

"Thangk you so mbuch. I'll bring them back as soon as I can." 

"No rush. Honestly, keep them if you want. And uh… feel better. You look… pretty sick."

"I'll be alright," Steve croaked. "Thangks again." He turned to go, but as he did, he staggered. He would've fallen if James hadn't been there, but the bigger man reacted quickly, catching him as he went down. Steve let himself be supported, seemingly unable to do otherwise. James noted his eyes, which were heavy-lidded and suddenly out of focus.

Without thinking twice, James propelled them both to James' apartment. He lay Steve down on the couch, propping up his head. Steve began to cough from the small amount of exertion, and he seemed unable to stop. In moments, Steve was struggling to breathe, his eyes bugging out of his head as his breath whistled. He gave James a desperate look.

"Need… inhaler," Steve  gasped. "Pocket…. " He pawed weakly at his hip pocket. James flew into action, freeing the inhaler from underneath Steve and shaking it up like he'd seen on TV before placing it in Steve's trembling hand. Steve took several puffs. Slowly, his breathing strengthened. He let the hand holding the inhaler fall limp as he met James' eyes.

"Sorry… and thangks…. " he gasped, red-faced and shaking. 

"No problem," James mumbled. He continued to wait by Steve's side as the younger man tried to control his breathing, unsure what else to do. After a bit, Steve sat up, still shaking.

"Sorry for bargi'g in on you," he wheezed. "I'mb good to go ndow." He tried to stand, but James gestured for him to stop.

"Don't go. You are… clearly super sick," James said, nervous but determined. "I… don't think you should be alone right now, since you just almost passed out and then almost stopped breathing. Also, I saw you move in, and it seems like you don't have much furniture, no offence. You'd be better off on a couch than on the floor."

"I have an air mbattress," Steve muttered. "Really, I'mb fide. I… didn't mbean to imbpose." He stood, but his legs trembled visibly as he did, betraying him. He was forced to sit again, sinking down heavily.

"At least stay for a bit," James said. "Until you catch your breath and the medicine kicks in. I was just about to make dinner, so you can sit and rest here."

Steve reluctantly sat back. "If you're sure…."

James waved his hand dismissively. "Seriously, stay, please. Do you want something to drink?"

"Just water please," Steve croaked, looking exhausted. 

"Sure." James fetched him a bottle. "My name's James, by the way," he said as he handed it over.

"Nice to meet you," Steve said, attempting a smile as he opened the bottle and drank. He really did look miserably sick, now more than ever. 

"Likewise. And hey, make sure you take some medicine," James said.

Steve nodded, reaching for the Tylenol. As he took it, James turned on the TV, flipping to a channel playing reruns of an old sitcom. Steve relaxed back into the couch, his eyes following the images, but James was sure he was registering none of it, tired as he looked. He sniffled weakly, rubbing a hand under his nose, then yawned hugely.

Not wanting to hover, James headed into the kitchen and stayed there for a while, giving Steve some privacy. He also made a bit more food than he normally would have, intending to ask Steve to stay for dinner. The kid clearly needed help, though he didn't want to show it. James knew exactly how that felt, making him all the more determined to look after him.

However, it seemed he was destined to eat alone after all. When he reentered the living room carrying two bowls of macaroni and cheese, Steve was sound asleep on the couch, curled into a ball and snoring softly. James quickly fetched the blanket from his bed, covering Steve warmly before sitting on a chair nearby, keeping the television volume low. Steve didn't stir. So there James stayed for the rest of the night, keeping watch over the sick young man.

[wallwriterstuff]

The Little Ways You Say I Love You  ||Demetri Volturi x Reader||

Summary: Demetri is well aware how fragile humans can be and needs a little reminder that to touch you isn’t to kill you. Loving a vampire isn’t easy, but you find a way to compromise that suits both your needs. 

Warnings: None, for once it’s nice and fluffy

Words: 4071

There were certain things humans did that were very endearing. The way you scrunched your nose for example when you were confused or showing your distaste for something, and that sweet way you snuggled down into your duvet when you slept. It was also incredibly cute how excited you got when exploring somewhere/something new, eyes shining as you bounced about. Your sleepy confusion when you first got up or had been up too long, your sweet little sneezes and sniffles when the flowers in the garden invaded your nose, your habit of fidgeting – it was all still so new to him and Demetri would be lying if he said he didn’t find it absolutely adorable. Your humanity was something he had originally not batted an eye at – you were going to be a vampire in the end after all so what was the point – until you had started showing these little traits that left him falling a little harder for you every time he saw them. Then, of course, there were the downsides to mortality.

You got sick. You couldn’t go without eating lest you become sluggish and nauseated. You sometimes had nightmares when you slept and terrified him when you woke with a gasp or a scream. Your skin turned shades of black, yellow and blue when you hit your limbs off of inanimate objects - and Felix’s abdomen but you had both sworn a pact to never tell Demetri that was how your knuckles had ended up bruised – that Demetri never seemed to be able to steer you clear of despite his speed. If you tripped or hit them just right your skin also, heaven forbid, tore like tissue paper, tempting him with your sweet sweet blood. He was grateful that didn’t happen as often as you added to your collection of bruises. He was also well aware of how fragile your bones were, susceptible to shatter from the slightest pressure. In short, all the things he found so endearing could very easily be wiped out by illness, injury, and the common flaw of mortality that was, simply, that it wasn’t built to last.

Demetri was painfully aware of all of these things when it came to you, having accidentally left his fingerprints on your wrist for days after trying to make sure you didn’t step into the way of an oncoming car once. He had felt awful; it was almost painful to watch how slowly your skin faded back to it’s normal colouring, and he’d honestly had no idea you’d get so sick when he ran with you for the first time, feeling immensely guilty as he dared not put his hands on your heaving form lest he make it any worse. It was a pattern you’d noticed for a few weeks now and you hated it. Demetri had been nothing but good to you from the day you’d met him, a bit dismissive at first perhaps but very attentive when it came to your needs so you were never uncomfortable in your new home. You’d not had much choice once you’d been pulled from the tour group but to stay with him, especially after hearing the screams you should have been contributing to – nobody of sound mind would let you go with what you knew.

It was very obvious that Demetri had never really expected to meet you, and the sudden appearance of his mate had left him at a bit of a loss, especially when he realised you were human. You could almost see inside his mind in the early days as he watched you explore your new home with a mystified but doting expression, looking very much like a parent watching their child toddle about after finding their feet for the first time. What do I do with a human? The answer was very simple and you let him know soon enough, that if he expected you to fall hopelessly in love with him then you’d like to see the real him doing things he loved. He’d taken you out a lot after that, having to learn to balance your need for rest with his fun-packed dates. In all that time, from the first moment he’d accidentally bruised you (and consequently saved you from the wrath of a very angry Italian woman who was clearly in a hurry that day) pulling you out of the way of that car, he’d not touched you since.

You weren’t expecting the world from him, you knew it took a lot of self-control for him to even be near you some days, but you were only human. You were never one of those people who preferred their own company and had grown up in a family were physical touch was common place, whether it be from hugs or from cousins poking you constantly, you naturally craved physical contact and Demetri seemed to naturally withhold it. You knew it was out of fear for your safety, and you didn’t want to force him to spend long hours snuggling with you or do anything extravagant if it meant putting him through any sort of discomfort, but would it really kill him to hold your hand when you went out and about to places? Was it really the end of the world if he gave you a brief hug when you were upset? He seemed to think you’d collapse if he so much as breathed on you, or at least, that’s how it felt.

At first it had just been a bit annoying. It was a quirk of his you’d tried to learn to live with until it began to wear you down some. You had been given a three-month grace period to settle in, and time was very quickly passing you by. The longer it went on the less desirable you felt. Logically you were well aware your thinking was stupid, that Demetri was refraining from touching you for any other reason than simply wanting to ensure he didn’t hurt you, but the lack of contact forewent all logic to that lingering anxiety that perhaps your human self wasn’t enough to attract him. Maybe he didn’t want to touch you. You’d subconsciously tried dressing a little nicer and being a little more flirty just to see if it would encourage him to touch you, even if it was just his hand on your arm briefly, and you were disappointed to find that it didn’t work.

He’d been on a mission for his masters for the last few days, leaving you alone to wallow in your thoughts. You’d been lonely with all your usual friends gone from the castle and you knew full well you couldn’t expect him to greet you with a hug when he returned, though he would, in his own way, still greet you warmly. Vampires, you had learned, were eerily quiet, though you supposed they had no reason to be loud, so consequently when they weren’t around to make conversation with the castle was silent. Creepily silent. In an effort to chase away that silence, you’d turned to music. Demetri’s quarters were on the floor reserved specifically for the high-ranking guardsmen, and since they were all out there would be no Jane to pound on the door and demand you turn it down, or Felix shouting from his own room that her taste in music was horrible.

So you cranked the volume up.

High.

Then turned it back down because Caius’s face had unwittingly entered your mind and he looked even more irritated with you than usual.

After a few minutes of altering the volume to what you considered the optimum level, you finally settled back onto the sofa with the intention of just enjoying the music as you continued to read one of Demetri’s many books. By the bottom of the first page you were tapping your toe along to the beat. By the bottom of the third you were bobbing your head. By the time you hit page number five you were bopping side to side in your seat. You had abandoned your book entirely by page number seven in favour of grabbing the TV remote and using it as microphone, and you had an absolute blast. You imagined yourself on stage, a thousand adoring hands reaching for you as you sang your heart out and danced around the room, switching between air guitars and pillow dance partners. You could practically feel the way your mood shifted, the beginnings of your sulking long gone as your face flushed and your smile widened, nothing but the light, euphoric love for good music filling you from head to toe.

Then the ultimate karaoke song came on, and you squealed in delight as you uncaringly turned the music up far louder than you knew any of the ancient masters would like. You danced about the room, trotting like a pony and waving your arms to the beat as the intro played itself out, and then your microphone lifted, the fans went wild and you turned to point at them all, only to freeze. Demetri’s vibrantly red eyes were filled with mirth, his lips spread into a wide grin as he stood in the doorway, cloak draped over his arm. Mouth frozen open, you took a moment to feel the sheer horror at being caught red-handed.

“Please, don’t stop on my account.” He insisted, turning to hang his cloak up on the coat stand near his door. It hung neatly beside your own jacket and coat. He looked unfairly good considering he’d probably crossed hundreds of thousands of miles on foot in the past few days, not a hair out of place and pearl white teeth gleaming at you. You, on the other hand, were flushed bright red, hair falling in your eyes thanks to your dancing knocking it out of your neat style, and probably sweating a little.

“You…are back.” You said. Demetri tilted his head slightly, discarding his jacket next and rolling up the sleeves of his button up shirt.

“I am back.” He confirmed. You bit your lip, your embarrassment lingering still as he crossed to turn the music down slightly, to a more bearable volume for his sensitive ears.

“I missed you.” You told him honestly, fingers itching. You wanted to reach for him but couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Demetri seemed to sense your change in attitude, his amusement fading and being replaced instead by something that seemed to be an odd mix of confusion and concern. He came to stand before you, hand almost reaching for your arm before he retracted it.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you my love, you looked like you were having fun.” He said. You couldn’t quite bring your eyes to move from his hand, the hand that had almost answered your silent prayers, that had very almost touched you. He’d been gone for three days, would he really deny you the contact you wanted if you were just honest with him?

“I was.” You agreed softly, tossing your remote control microphone aside and trying to pluck up the bravery to just do it. His hand was right there, loose and open. You could easily slip your palm against his. What was the worst that could happen? Well he could always snatch his hand away and reaffirm your ridiculous beliefs about being undesirable in every way shape and form but, what were the odds of that? You quickly stopped letting yourself think when your brain tried to work out the statistics.

“I need to shower, you’ll have some more time to yourself while I’m in there if that’s what you would like.” He assured you. You shook your head immediately, the last thing you wanted was for him to leave you so soon after he’d just gotten back. You took a breath and quickly reached for his hand, looking up at him with pleading eyes while he visibly stiffened at your touch.

“Dance with me?” you pleaded. Demetri’s crimson irises flickered to your joined hands briefly, his grip was non-existent, and you could almost feel him trying to pull away. Your heart quietly shattered.

“I’m not entirely sure how you would dance to this music.” He admitted. It wasn’t a resounding no at least and he still hadn’t forced you to let go. You bit your lip, a small flicker of hope igniting in your chest that must have shown on your face.

“Please try?” you asked, slowly lifting your joined hands so you could twirl beneath his arm. Demetri’s grip remained awfully loose and he almost seemed to flinch when you reached for his other hand, carefully moving your arms back and forth, hips swinging. You had no clue what you were doing either, you were simply compiling dance moves one on top of the other with no rhyme or reason, speeding up as you went. It was…honestly hilarious. Your discontent was very quickly forgotten seeing the effort Demetri was putting into this ridiculous dancing for you. His movements were gracefully awkward, his vampirism not letting him look stupid despite the fact that he very clearly should given the mismatched way his top and bottom halves were moving. You giggled at him and Demetri shot you a playful glare in response.

“What? You think this is funny? I am the height of trendy. My moves are so fashionable they’re ahead of their time.” He teased, letting you go in favour of pulling a ridiculous John Travolta pose, his head bobbing as he did the classic disco moves you were sure the human race had tried to bury in the film Footloose. You laughed, happily mimicking him with far less grace as the pair of you utilised the space in your room to full advantage. Demetri made no attempt to stop you whenever you grabbed him, your smile only widening whenever he let you take his hand to twist him one way or spin yourself about the next. You were exhausted, barely able to breathe through your laughter when you inevitably tripped over your own feet, colliding with his chest as the cliché moment demanded.

Panting and still giggling to yourself you were completely unaware he even had his arms around you until you tried to pull back and found yourself trapped in his embrace. Your giggles stopped abruptly, the shock clogging up your throat. With wide eyes, you looked up at him, slowly lifting your own arms to wrap back around him as he stared down at you with the most soft, vulnerable expression you’d ever seen on him. He looked entirely uncertain, his arms not quite loose but not tightly wrapped around your body either, as if he was fighting with himself to simply keep hold of you.

“Demetri…” you whispered. It was all you had wanted now for weeks, and here you were finally, home. There was a sense of contentment growing within you the longer he held you, a rightness that his embrace offered that made it feel like he’d locked all of your troubles and insecurities outside of the little bubble he’d created. You snuggled closer, determined to make the most of it while it lasted, but quickly felt guilty for the selfish move when he stiffened, muscles rigid with tenseness. “I’m sorry.” You said, attempting to squirm backwards out of his grasp. He let go immediately, his eyes widening.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked immediately, eyes a little frantic.

“No!” you groaned, sounding more exasperated than you wanted to. Demetri frowned, picking up on it and looking equal parts confused and wounded. You sighed, crossing to the speaker and turning it off. The silence between you was deafening for a long moment as you organised your thoughts, trying to figure out what to say to him next.

“What’s wrong my love?” he asked quietly, “Please, talk to me.” He looked so earnest, like he really wanted to listen and figure out how to fix the problem. He was like a big puppy sometimes, desperate to give you love but unsure how to do it in an acceptable way. It made your heart ache and your cheeks flush simultaneously because you knew it was really your own problem, your own silly insecurities. Playing with your fingers, you ducked your gaze and took a deep breath, exhaling in a huff before looking back up at him.

“I need you to know you’re not going to hurt me just by touching me.” You said finally, “I’m not made of glass Demetri, I’m not going to shatter at the slightest touch.” Demetri’s brows tugged down into a frown.

“I am very capable of hurting you my love, I’m only careful with you to avoid that.” He answered.

“But you don’t avoid that, you avoid me.” You retorted, eyes dropping to the floor again, “I know you mean well and I don’t want to make you do anything you’re not comfortable with but…isn’t there a way to compromise? Something little we could do that just, that makes me feel like…” you stumbled over the words, knowing they’d hurt him greatly. Demetri was nothing if not dedicated to you and to suggest he wasn’t was practically blasphemy.

“Like…”he prompted. You swallowed, risking a quick glance up at him and feeling your stomach curl at the anxious expression on his face.

“Like you actually want me.” You said softly. The way his entire expression crumpled made you feel intensely guilty, so much so you felt tears spring to your eyes. You forced yourself to blink them back. You’d had such a good afternoon, you’d been laughing together without a care in the world not ten minutes ago and you’d just had to go and spill your guts to ruin it hadn’t you? You really hadn’t been expecting his cold hand to envelope yours, his eyes watching your expression carefully as he tested the smallest amount of pressure he could possibly exert to tighten his grip on your palm.

“I am careful with you because of how badly I want you.” He said, his voice quiet and earnest, “Please believe me, it was never my intention to make you feel undesirable. I still can’t honestly say I feel entirely comfortable with the idea of embracing you but…maybe, we could start with this?” he suggested, lifting your hands slightly. Your heart swelled, eye shining as you stared down at his fingers curled around yours, relished in the strangely warm coolness of his skin. You nodded earnestly.

“Please. I’m happy with just this.” You promised, squeezing his hand lightly. Demetri sucked in a breath.

“Are you sure?” he questioned. You nodded vigorously, unable to keep the smile from spreading across your face. You hadn’t wanted the world from him, just a small amount of contact comfort every now and then. Demetri looked utterly relieved you weren’t pushing him further, quietly content with his own brave leap.

“I’m sure…didn’t you need a shower?” you asked, cocking your head to the side. His lips twitched into the smuggest little smirk you’d ever seen on him.

“Maybe I’m not done holding your hand?” he suggested.

“Then maybe you can keep on holding it?” you smiled.

Demetri kept true to his word to, trying his best to introduce a little bit of physical contact throughout your day. He kept it at hand holding for a while, slowly testing the waters with a hug or two here and there. He had developed a nice little system of taps for his worse days, where the fear he’d hurt you was just a little too much, and you came to cherish the small but meaningful touch between you both that only the two of you ever understood.

Suddenly, three months were up. Demetri had prepared you well for what you’d face during the change theoretically, but nothing he could have said or done would have ever prepared you for the sheer agony of it all. You burned constantly, a raging inferno consuming every cell and every fibre of your being. You dared not scream though. You knew better than anyone how deep his fear of hurting you ran, that the anxiety in his eyes when he had pulled his teeth from your skin was nothing to do with whether or not you’d make it but had everything to do with the fact he knew he was causing you an intense, immeasurable amount of agony. He had never wished to do that at all, so you pursed your lips so hard your teeth cut your lips and you tasted blood, determined not to make him feel any worse for this than he probably already felt. Your fortitude was admirable all things considered and every time you envisioned Demetri’s heartbroken face it was renewed, your lips clamping once more after the agony had slowly worn them down and loosened the seal holding back your screams.

By the time the fire rescinded, you were so ready for it to be over you had considered, selfishly, begging for Alec to take the pain away, Demetri be damned. You went from the odd sensation of floating on fire to being lowered deeper and deeper in a cool lake, soothing the ache and the burn that had ravaged your body. Once the cold lake had stole your breath, you were catapulted to the surface, and your eyes snapped open. You were acutely aware of every little detail surrounding you. You could count the threads in the curtains surrounding the four-poster bed you lay on, trace the grooves in the wooden bed frame with your eyes. You could feel every stitch in the duvet beneath you, the softness of the interwoven threads leaving you in awe. Then there was the sound, the far off sounds of something scurrying in the castle gardens, of people talking and laughing, of music. Your nose twitched to life then to, a mixture of fruit and flora and cologne and fresh breeze and –

“Y/N?”

Your head snapped right, lip curling back over your teeth as a warning growl slipped up from your chest and rumbled in your throat. It took you a fraction of a second to place the features of the man before you, the dark red eyes, the sharp jawline, the chestnut brown hair…

“Demetri.” You said, blinking in shock at your new, melodic voice. He chuckled slightly, but his eyes remained somewhat sad. He was in awe of you as you zoomed to an abrupt stop in front of him, giggling at your newfound speed like a child, but there was something in his eyes that spoke of an intense amount of guilt you had trouble placing. His hand was soft and warm against your cheek, nothing like the cool temperature you were used to feeling from his flesh, but you leaned into his touch regardless, surprised he’d so willingly given it. Then you remembered, you were a lot more durable now, weren’t you? He was far less afraid of breaking you and probably more wary that if you weren’t careful, you could break him. You almost flinched, the sudden, intense stab of terror that you might accidentally crush him both ironic and bringing a level of understanding you’d struggled with before.

“I am…awestruck. You are magnificent my love,” He said, voice soft and wistful, “Can you forgive me?” Forgive him? Your face fell into a frown? Forgive him for what? For changing you? You’d already forgiven him for taking you out of that tour group long ago, happy beyond belief to be with your mate and not six feet under somewhere, even if you did miss home. You felt it even more acutely now, how right it was to be with him, to be near him, to be touched by him. You decided whatever he wanted forgiveness for didn’t matter. You wouldn’t even ask him to qualify what he meant. This was a fresh start for both of you now and you were ready to take it, to start eternity with him by your side. So, you reached up to the hand cradling your face and gently tapped the back of his hand twice. Demetri’s lips twitched, and they pulled higher and higher until his face had split into an adoring smile.

There were many things he had found endearing about your humanity, but the little ways you said I love you were perhaps his favourite.