#and it’s fine with normal weather. like whatever

[darklight-owl]

Whenever people online go "Woah Christmas in the summer I can't imagine what that's like" I just show them this song:

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Moving! Moving in two months! Working on moving when I was literally doing this shit exactly a year ago! *SCREAM*

[solxamber]

Unstable Stable || Leona Kingscholar

You were an S-ranked Guide just trying to live your life, but now you're emotionally (and spiritually) babysitting SS-class menace Leona Kingscholar—who’s decided you're his personal charger and refuses to unplug.

or: Guideverse AU!

Life used to be normal.

You know, back when your biggest problem was whether to risk food poisoning for that suspiciously cheap sushi combo. Taxes were annoying, capitalism was soul-sucking, and people still thought “ghosting” only applied to dating. Cute times.

Then the gates showed up.

Like surprise holes in the fabric of reality. No warning. No gentle push notifications. Just BAM—mystical rift to MonsterLand™ opens in the middle of your grocery store and suddenly your choices are “fight or die with a half-priced avocado in hand.”

And that would’ve been it for humanity—extinct in a week if not for the emergence of Espers. Superpowered humans with the ability to close these gates and yeet the nightmare creatures back into the void.

Cool, right?

Except—Espers are dramatic. They're the “I’m fine” as they bleed out types. The “I didn’t sleep for three days, but I still went into a Class-A gate because I felt vibes” types. They save the world, but emotionally? Spiritually? Mentally? Absolutely not okay.

That’s where you come in.

You're a Guide. The human equivalent of emotional duct tape. Your job is to wrangle these unhinged battle gremlins post-gate before they disintegrate or cry themselves into a psychic nosebleed. Sometimes both.

It’s like babysitting, except your babysitter is also a licensed therapist, a soul mechanic, and sometimes a romantic interest depending on how "fanfic" things get.

Is the job dangerous? Constantly.

Are the Espers dramatic? Tragically so.

Is there a union? Not unless you count the Group Chat of Collective Suffering.

And does it pay well? HAHAHA.

Still, between dodging death and massaging the egos of glorified magical toddlers, you’ve somehow become really good at this.

Which is great, because your next assignment?

Is going to change your entire life. Probably ruin it. Possibly give you feelings. Definitely not covered by health insurance. (But then again, what is?)

It’s raining like the gods themselves are ugly crying, but you? You’re bone-dry and smug. Perched on your little foldable stool like a judgmental gremlin, your umbrella is perched just right. Stylish. Functional. Invincible.

Across the street, a cluster of fellow Guides are soaked to their very souls. One of them is trying to use a clipboard as shelter. Another’s shoes have absolutely given up on life. They glare at you like you personally invented weather.

You take a sip of your lukewarm vending machine coffee and shrug.

“Sorry losers,” you say cheerfully, “get on my level.”

Then the gate sputters, flickers, and folds in on itself like a haunted paper fan. The Espers return—bloodied, bruised, twitchy-eyed and definitely seconds away from fainting like overcooked noodles.

Chaos erupts.

Guides leap up, yelling names, waving emergency blankets, fumbling for their med kits. People are screaming things like, “Catch him, he’s falling—OH GOD, HIS ARM,” and “Who packed juice boxes in the trauma bag again?!”

You stay seated. Sip your coffee again. It's mostly rainwater now. Whatever.

Then someone stops in front of you. Tall, soaked, radiating the exact vibe of someone who has murdered for being woken up too early.

And he yanks your umbrella to cover himself.

“I am not getting soaked again,” he grumbles, shaking rainwater out of his hair like an angry golden retriever with a six-pack.

You blink.

“Uh. Hello?”

Leona Kingscholar. SS-Class Esper. Walking lawsuit. The man once growled at a government official for chewing too loudly.

And now he’s under your umbrella like this is some shoujo manga and he’s your tsundere warlord boyfriend.

He side-eyes you. “Aren’t you gonna guide me or whatever?”

You panic a little. “I—I’m not certified for SS-Class. I’m just S-Class.”

He snorts. “Didn't think you'd forget me, herbivore.”

What does that even mean??? Is this… Esper code for “I like you”? Or “I won’t kill you today”? Who knows. He’s already sinking to the ground like a dramatic cat, using your thigh as a pillow without even asking.

And just like that, you’re guiding Leona Kingscholar while sharing an umbrella in the pouring rain, your fellow guides still watching like you’ve been chosen by some eldritch force.

Welcome to your life now. Hope you brought snacks.

Leona is basically half-dead in your lap, but still manages to look like he owns both the rain and your dignity.

You sigh and set your coffee down, running your fingers through his wet hair. It’s soft, unfairly so, and smells like something expensive. His breathing starts to even out under your touch, eyes fluttering shut as your stabilizing energy pulses through him.

He doesn’t say anything. Just rests there with his head in your lap like this is a Tuesday afternoon nap spot and not the wet, cracked sidewalk outside a gate that just tried to eat reality.

You keep going. Until—

He grabs your wrist, eyes suddenly sharp. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

You blink. “Uh. No? Pretty sure I stopped doing that in college. Why?”

He scowls. “You’ve been channeling too long. Idiot. Burn yourself out and you’ll fry your nerves. Can’t stabilize anyone if you’re unconscious in a puddle.”

You try to pull your hand back but he doesn’t let go. “I’m fine, Leona—”

“I need you alive, herbivore.”

You freeze.

Your brain does a little Windows error sound.

And then he’s standing, still holding your umbrella like it’s his now, yanking you up by the wrist like you’re the fragile one. You try to protest, but he ignores you entirely.

“Your car’s this way, right?”

“…How do you know where I parked—”

“Because you always park near the vending machine. Which is stupid, by the way. You don’t even lock it.”

You're still processing the fact that Leona Kingscholar, Mr. I-Hate-Everyone, has apparently been keeping track of your parking habits, when he tosses your keys back at you like a lazy monarch commanding his carriage.

And that’s how you end up being frog-marched to your own car in the rain by a grumpy, half-stabilized SS-Class Esper who refuses to let go of your umbrella.

You’ve barely had your morning caffeine and the email has the audacity to say: Transfer Notice – Effective Immediately. No warning. No prep. Just vibes and bureaucracy.

You're sent to the high-level West Sector Guidance Office. The same one with SSS-Class Guide Vil Schoenheit, the gold standard of grace, glamour, and glaring disapproval.

So naturally, you walk in clutching your sad little cardboard box of office plants and off-brand snacks, looking like a lost intern who accidentally wandered into a luxury spa for dangerous superhumans.

The receptionist is too busy having a breakdown over printer ink to help, so you start aimlessly wandering the halls, trying not to make eye contact with any Espers that could punch through concrete.

And then someone yanks your box out of your hands.

You flinch, ready to throw hands, until you realize it’s Leona. Hair still a mess. Hoodie on like he just rolled out of bed. He doesn’t greet you. Doesn’t ask how you are. Just nods his chin, “Keep up, herbivore.”

You scramble after him like a duckling with no sense of direction. “Leona—what the hell is this? Why am I here?”

He doesn’t even look back. Just strolls down the corridor with your office supplies like they belong to him now. “Told ‘em I only want you.”

You short-circuit. “What?!”

“They asked if I’d take Vil or the new SS-rank from Sector 4. I said no. Told ‘em to transfer you instead.”

Your mouth opens. Closes. “You… requested me?”

He shrugs like this isn’t causing you a spiritual meltdown. “Whatever. You’re not annoying. You stabilize me fast. You don’t treat me like a bomb about to go off. You’re fine.”

And then—like this conversation hasn’t just rewritten the structure of your career—he dumps your box onto a random desk and starts walking off.

“Wait, that’s it?” you call after him. “You’re just—leaving me here?”

He lifts a hand in a lazy wave. “See you tomorrow.”

You stare at the desk. Then the hallway. Then the spot where your sanity used to be.

You don’t understand what’s going on. But let’s be honest—you’ve never understood anything and that’s never stopped you before. You graduated on sheer vibes and a terrifying ability to guess multiple choice answers with unearned confidence. You once guided a Class A Esper while half-asleep and running on a breakfast of sour candy and spite. You thrive in chaos.

So when you show up at your new desk (which may or may not have been assembled incorrectly), you take a deep breath, sip your mediocre vending machine coffee, and prepare yourself for another confusing day of “just wing it and hope no one dies.”

And then Leona walks in.

No knock. No warning. Just opens the door like he owns the place—which, considering the way your coworkers scurry out of his path, he might as well.

You’re ready to guide. You roll up your sleeves. You stretch your fingers. You mentally prepare for the usual Esper touch-their-hands routine.

Leona?

Leona lays down on the office couch like it’s a five-star hotel bed. Puts his head in your lap. And knocks out like a tranquilized jungle cat. No explanation. No shame.

You blink. “Um. Hello? Sir?”

No response.

You glance around to see if this is some prank. Nope. Just you, a couch, and a warm grumpy lion man making your lap his personal pillow.

So you do the only logical thing: sigh, roll with it, and start guiding like this is completely normal.

The stabilization process is smoother than usual. Leona’s energy calms fast, his breathing evens out, and it’s honestly the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him. He doesn’t even twitch when you accidentally brush a hand through his hair mid-guidance.

When you're done, you gently nudge him. “Hey. Nap time’s over, sunshine.”

He grumbles like you’ve just committed a crime and blinks up at you with all the judgment of a cat disturbed mid-snooze. Then, with the reflexes of a seasoned villain, he sits up, grabs your coffee off the table, and chugs it like it’s his birthright.

“Hey!” you cry, scandalized. “That was mine! That was my life juice! That’s the only thing tethering me to this mortal realm!”

He hands you the empty cup with all the remorse of a man who steals from vending machines and sleeps through emergency drills. “You can get another.”

And then he leaves.

You stare after him. You stare at your empty cup. You stare at the void where your caffeine used to be.

This job is going to kill you.

But you’ll die confused and employed, and that’s the best you’ve got.

You’re at the farmer’s market. Living your best domestic fantasy. You’ve got your reusable tote bag, your overpriced jam, a bundle of fresh herbs like you’re the protagonist in a cottagecore fever dream, and a leek that you're weirdly proud of because it was the biggest one in the pile. Life is good.

Then a gate opens.

Right there.

Next to the cheese stall.

The sky splits like a broken lightbulb, the air warps, and BAM—there's a rift to monster hell spewing nightmare fuel in the middle of tomato season.

You don’t know how it happened. One moment you were asking about eggplant pricing, the next you were in a technicolor void smacking a drooling, three-eyed creature with your leek like your life depends on it. Because it does.

You’re cornered by something that looks like the illegitimate child of a bear and a blender, just about to accept that this might be it—death by demon at a farmer’s market—when a figure crashes in, trailing lightning and rage.

Leona.

He surveys the chaos with a look of supremely irritated confusion. “Why the hell are you here?”

You, still holding the leek like it’s a holy weapon: “I don’t know, man, you tell me! I was just buying root vegetables!”

He groans like you’re giving him a headache worse than the gate, and with a single swipe of power, the monsters start dissolving into nothing. He suppresses the gate like he’s swatting a fly, and before you can say “gluten-free honey loaf,” he’s grabbing you by the arm and dragging you back to solid, blessed, non-nightmare reality.

You’re trying to catch your breath. You’re covered in monster goo. Your leek is bent in half. And you’re shaking.

“Okay,” you say, trying for calm but sounding like you’ve just survived the apocalypse (because you kinda have), “let’s get you stabilized so I can go sit in a bathtub forever.”

You reach for him—but your hands are trembling too much. You’ve seen monsters before, sure. But not that close. Not nearly getting your face chewed off.

Leona notices. His brow furrows. “Tch.”

Then—softly, carefully—he pulls you into his chest.

You freeze. Not from fear this time, but from the sudden warmth of him, from the way he smells like dust and heat and something grounding. You feel his hand gently settle between your shoulder blades, like he’s not sure how to comfort but he’s trying anyway.

“You don’t go in the gates,” he murmurs. “I go in. I’ll suppress every last one of them, no matter how many pop up. You just stay out here, alright? You wait for me.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him look at you like that—not annoyed, not smug, but serious. Protective. Like your safety matters more to him than anything else.

You nod into his shirt. “Okay.”

And he holds you a little longer. Just until you stop shaking.

You form a temporary bond with him after the whole gate-at-the-farmer's-market debacle because let’s be honest—your energy reserves were not built for stabilizing a lion in man’s clothing on a daily basis. You were running on fumes and instant noodles. One more session and you'd have crumpled like a used juice box with a sad little wheeze.

Leona didn’t even flinch at the idea of a temporary bond. Just looked at you like finally and said, “Took you long enough.”

Now, you’re guiding him and only him every day. Which sounds intense, but honestly? This is the freest you’ve been since graduating. No more being pinged at 3 AM to rush to a different gate across the city. No more sorting through esper tantrums or being asked if your hands are “certified emotionally soothing.”

You’ve got one glorified cat man to take care of, and he doesn’t even talk during sessions. He just shows up, flops onto your couch, puts his head in your lap like it’s routine, and is unconscious within minutes.

You're so free, you picked up a hobby. You, the overworked guide formerly known as Burnout in a Coat, now crochet lopsided scarves while waiting for Leona to show up. Sometimes you experiment with baking (badly). You’ve even started watching those long, slow documentaries about birds that people put on to fall asleep.

You are, shockingly, thriving.

Every now and then Leona’ll glance at your latest attempt at a potholder-turned-coaster-turned-abstract-art and grunt, “You’re getting better.”

Which, in Leona-speak, is basically high praise.

Life is weird. Life is monsters and gates and nap-hungry espers with bad attitudes.

But life is also calmer now. Just you, Leona, and the occasional crocheted disaster.

The rift today is the kind of thing news stations send helicopters for. It's so massive that your phone buzzes with emergency alerts and a “Good luck lol” from your supervisor. You’re standing just outside the barrier, watching chaos unfold like it’s a live-action anime, umbrella in one hand, your thermos of emergency caffeine in the other.

Then—bam—some random, shaky-looking esper stumbles out of the gate and straight into your arms like you’re the protagonist in a romance drama. You're mid-stabilization out of pure reflex, patting his back like “there, there, emotionally damaged soldier,” when a low growl cuts through the sound of the rift and monster screeching.

Leona storms out of the rift next, all raw power and pissy vibes, his coat half burned and dust clinging to his hair. He sees you cradling Random Esper #453 like he just walked in on something illegal. His expression goes from “I need a nap” to “I'm about to commit a felony” in zero-point-three seconds.

Without saying a word, he grabs the guy by the scruff of his tactical vest like a misbehaving kitten and just yeets him toward another approaching guide.

"Not yours," he growls, before quite literally collapsing into your arms with all the elegance of a sack of emotional bricks.

You don’t even get the chance to complain. He’s already out, breathing slow and heavy, head tucked against your neck like he belongs there.

And you? You’re stuck holding one of the most powerful espers in the world like a sleepy toddler while another guide screams in the background about how Leona threw someone at them.

Just another day in your life.

You are three seconds away from emotionally combusting in front of a full-length mirror, clutching two jackets like they personally offended you. One is sleek, black, mysteriously expensive-looking, the kind of jacket that says “I pay taxes and win arguments.” The other is fluffy, cozy, slightly ridiculous, and makes you look like a sentient marshmallow with excellent taste.

You’re weighing your options with the seriousness of someone deciding between saving the world and saving ten puppies. There are charts. Internal debates. You're about to do the unthinkable and consult the price tags when—

SWOOSH.

The jackets are gone.

You blink. Arms empty. Sanity shaken.

You whirl around and see Leona—yes, Leona Kingscholar, SS-class esper, noted napper, chaos incarnate—casually walking away with everything you were holding. That includes:

• The jackets

• The socks you forgot you picked up

• A weird little plush you were definitely only holding "ironically"

• A novelty mug that says #1 Guide, Certified Not Dead (Yet)

You trail after him, fast-walking with the energy of a startled mall pigeon. “Excuse me?! What the hell are you doing?!”

Leona doesn’t even slow down. He makes a beeline for the register like this is just a regular chore.

“You were taking too long,” he says over his shoulder, as if that explains anything.

“I was deciding! With purpose! With nuance!”

He pays. Effortlessly. Doesn’t flinch at the total. Just swipes his card with the bored grace of someone who buys entire coffee shops out of spite.

You arrive at the register breathless and confused. “I didn’t ask you to buy my—my impulse garments.”

He takes the bag, hands none of it to you, and starts walking out. “Didn’t say you had to ask.”

You make a strangled noise, flapping after him like a duckling trying to make sense of capitalism and emotional whiplash. “Are you—are you okay? Did you hit your head in the last gate? Why are you shopping for me?”

“Can’t have my Guide dying of hypothermia,” he mutters. “Especially not because they can’t pick a jacket.”

“That doesn’t explain the mug, Leona!”

“Sure it does.” He turns, smirking slightly. “You’ll need it tomorrow.”

“For what?!”

“Come to the gate.”

And with that cryptic nonsense, he strolls off into the distance.

You stare after him, confused, and wonder how exactly you ended up in this weird half-domestic cold war with a man who solves problems by spending money and napping through consequences.

Dragging an unconscious SS-ranked esper to your car is not as easy as it sounds. Especially not when that esper is six feet of solid muscle, deadweight, and attitude—even while passed out.

It starts at the gate. After the monsters are suppressed and the chaos settles, Leona doesn’t get back up. You wait—he always gets up. Even when he’s cranky, bleeding, covered in soot and monster gunk, he always stands with that infuriating smirk, like he’s just taken a nap in a flower field. But this time? Nothing.

You run to him, heart slamming against your ribs, calling his name. No answer. Just the quiet rise and fall of his chest. Stable vitals, sure, but his magic signature is drained.

You can’t leave him there—not sprawled out in the dirt like a fallen war god. So you do what any sane, worried, emotionally-compromised Guide would do—you throw all logic out the window and start dragging.

Getting him into the car is a series of humiliating maneuvers that you’re certain would be classified as a war crime if recorded. He keeps slipping down. You have to brace your back against the seat and heave like your spine won’t sue you in the morning. At one point, his leg knocks the gear stick and almost sends the car rolling down the street. You cry a little.

Finally—somehow—you make it. You slam the door shut. Collapse in the driver’s seat, sweating like you’ve just run a marathon. And then—because fate is a comedic little gremlin—you have to carry him again. Up the stairs. To your apartment.

You consider leaving him in the hallway for a second. Just one second. But then he mumbles your name in his sleep, and your heart betrays you by going all soft and stupid.

Once inside, you get him on the couch, check his vitals again, and then begin your descent into spiraling anxiety.

Because he still isn’t waking up.

You pace. You hover. You poke. You even lightly slap his face once (he doesn’t react, but you apologize anyway). You check the clock. You make tea. You don’t drink it. You Google how long can espers sleep before it’s an emergency and get conflicting answers and a concerning ad for calming dog chews.

Two hours later, with your thumb hovering over the call button for emergency services, you’re just about to commit to panic when he stirs.

He stretches like a lion waking up from a particularly satisfying sun nap. Hair a mess, shirt rumpled, magic signature humming faintly back to life. You gasp like someone just turned the world back on and smack his arm with all the force of a mildly annoyed wet sock.

“You absolute menace!” you cry, voice cracking under the weight of emotional exhaustion. “You scared the life out of me! Do you want me to die first?! Because you are on a damn good track—”

He blinks up at you, unbothered. Like you’re background noise to the dream he just left. Then he raises his hand and—pat pat—smooths it over your head like you’re the one that needs comforting.

“‘m fine,” he mutters, which is frankly not the point, and then he drags you down onto the couch like you’re a weighted blanket.

The couch. The tiny two-seater couch that you got on sale and have never once regretted until this exact moment.

He adjusts slightly, making enough room for exactly one leg and half your soul, then shuts his eyes again like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You stare at him, betrayed by the calm of his breathing, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, and the weight of everything you feel but haven’t said.

“Leona,” you whisper, voice too raw to be anything but honest.

“Sleeping,” he grumbles, completely unmoved. “You should too. You’re loud.”

So you stay. Your hand still buried in his hair, your heart still halfway out of your chest, your soul wrung out like a wet towel—but you stay.

And somehow, in that cramped, lumpy, too-small space, surrounded by exhaustion and emotion and quiet, you find the first real moment of peace that day.

It’s not supposed to happen like this. Gates break, yeah—but they’re not supposed to breach before the espers arrive.

You're still in your uniform, badge clipped on, hair barely brushed, breakfast halfway digested (a mistake), when you arrive at the scene, and—

You freeze.

It’s a remote town, or used to be. Right now it looks like a war zone someone dropped from the sky and left in ruins. Roads cracked and splattered. Buildings collapsed like toy blocks. Smoke curling into the sky like it’s auditioning for a post-apocalyptic music video.

And blood.

So much blood.

You see espers fighting—familiar ones, ones you’ve guided before, their faces hard and blank as they tear through monsters like paper. But the monsters got people first. You see the cleanup teams already moving in. You hear crying. Someone screaming names. And then you see bodies being carried out in bags.

You step forward and your stomach lurches.

You force yourself to take a deep breath. You’re a Guide. You have training. You are not allowed to cry. You are especially not allowed to cry in front of espers who just fought through hell. You breathe in, focus on your mantra: I am here to help. I am here to help. You swallow down the nausea like it owes you rent.

That’s when you feel it—warmth behind you, a solid presence—and then large, rough fingers gently slide over your eyes.

“Don’t look, herbivore.” Leona’s voice is low, soft, somehow more grounding than anything you’ve clung to today. You don’t even flinch at the touch—just close your eyes properly under his palm and let the sounds of chaos fade a little.

You breathe out, finally.

When he lets go, you turn your head, eyes shut, and nod once.

He doesn’t say anything else—just places a hand on your back and steers you gently toward the tents that have been set up nearby. Emergency stabilization camps. Medical supplies stacked up. Guides running back and forth. Your people. You should be helping.

Leona sits you down first.

You start working. Slowly. Mechanically. He leans against your side as you place your hands on him, guiding the storm in his mind back into stillness. He’s watching you the whole time, like he’s memorizing your breathing pattern, your expressions. You don’t say anything, not even when your hands shake slightly at first.

When you’re done, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t make a smart remark. Just sits with you, quiet.

You lean your head against his shoulder for a second. Just one.

“Herbivore,” he mutters. “You okay?”

“No,” you say honestly. “But I’ll do my job.”

And he doesn’t argue. Just lets you rest before getting up and hauling a blanket off the supply pile and dropping it onto your lap with a grumble about “stupid guides forgetting they’re human too.”

You smile, small and tired, but real.

You lasted longer than most would’ve. That’s what you keep telling yourself.

But it doesn’t make it easier when you turn in your resignation. Doesn’t make it hurt less to watch your fellow Guides blink in stunned silence. Doesn’t make it easier when the manager doesn’t even try to talk you out of it—just looks at you with that tired, knowing gaze and signs the form like they’ve seen a thousand others do the same.

And it really doesn’t make it easier when you go home and cry into your instant noodles like a defeated anime protagonist.

It’s not that you don’t love your job. You do. Or you did. But after the last breach… after seeing what happens when you’re too late… something inside you cracked.

You can’t keep holding people together when you’re falling apart.

So you go home. You unplug your work tablet. You turn off your work phone. You decide, firmly, that for the foreseeable future, you are retired. You make a little ceremony out of it. You throw your Guide badge into the drawer, slap a cartoon band-aid on your mental wounds, and decide your new job is to be horizontal and useless.

You don’t expect the knocking.

Frantic. Panicked. Desperate.

You open the door and Leona’s there—disheveled, annoyed, and clearly having run through multiple “I don’t care” speeches in the hallway before deciding none of them applied.

“Why’d you leave?” he says, skipping greetings entirely. His voice is rough like he ran here. Or yelled at a few people on the way.

You look at him. And you break the news gently.

“I quit.”

He stares at you like you just said you decided to become a professional soap-eater.

You try to explain—how you can’t take another bloody battlefield, how the sound of someone sobbing over a friend’s body has made a permanent home in your ears, how the pressure of always needing to be stable is crushing your chest like a vice.

“I just… I can’t do it anymore, Leona. I need a break. I need to feel human again.”

You expect pushback. Some snide comment. Accusations of cowardice or weakness.

But all he does is stare at you a moment, eyes sharp but quiet. Then, finally, he asks, “You happier like this?”

You blink. “...Yeah.”

He nods once. Then pushes past you like this is his house, grabs the half-eaten bag of chips from your counter, flops onto your couch, and turns on your TV like nothing happened. The audacity.

You just watch as he scrolls past every serious movie and lands on the stupidest slapstick comedy you have saved. And then he’s lounging there, one arm slung across the back of your couch, chewing chips like he pays rent.

You don’t ask him to leave. You don’t even sit far.

You curl into his side, just a little. Just enough to feel someone warm, someone solid, someone who didn’t leave even when you quit the one thing tying you together. And he doesn’t move, doesn’t make a snide comment, just lets you sit there while two characters on-screen fall face-first into a giant wedding cake.

You snort softly. He huffs a laugh.

Maybe the world can wait a little longer.

You're not supposed to be here.

You're retired. Done. Free. You’ve been living a soft life, surrounded by overpriced lattes and therapy podcasts, learning to crochet ugly little hats for your houseplants. You’ve earned it. You deserve it.

But the moment the alert flashes across your screen—“Category Red Gate Breach”—your blood runs cold.

You tell yourself you’re just going to check. Just to make sure. You don’t bring your badge. You don’t bring your stabilizing gloves. You bring anxiety, a hoodie, and a tupperware of homemade cookies, because apparently trauma turns you into someone’s tired suburban mom.

When you arrive at the site, the street’s already cordoned off, flickering with damage and Gate residue. Monster ash drifts through the air like cursed snow. The temporary field hospital is chaos—Espers limping, bloody, barely upright, Guides running ragged trying to stabilize them before they keel over.

You’re not supposed to get involved. You’re not.

But then you see him.

Leona. Stumbling slightly as he walks, covered in dirt and blood and smoke. He bats away the hands of every Guide that comes near like they're flies. His expression is sharp, but his eyes are glazed. Too bright. Too wild. His coat’s half off his shoulder and his aura is fraying at the edges—like he’s running on fumes and sheer attitude.

You run to him.

“I told you to take care of yourself!” you shout, more out of panic than anything else. “You absolute menace—what the hell, Leona?! Have you not had a single guiding session since I left?! Are you trying to die?!”

He doesn’t answer. He just turns his head slowly, eyes locking on you like you’re a dream he’s too tired to question. His breath stutters.

And then he’s pulling you forward—no warning, no words—just grabbing you and kissing you like the world hasn’t ended yet because you showed up in time.

And you freeze for a heartbeat. Just one. Then your hands are on his shoulders, in his hair, your lips meeting his as the unstable storm of his aura crashes against yours.

You guide him—not with standard channels, not with gloves or focus crystals, but with your whole self. Through the kiss, through the desperation in your grip, through the way you’re pouring every unspoken emotion into him. Every “I missed you,” every “You idiot,” every “Please be okay.”

And slowly—slowly—his breathing evens. The twitch of his muscles fades. The trembling stops. He leans into you, forehead pressing against yours, and whispers, hoarse and raw, “Knew you’d come.”

You hold him tighter.

It happens on a normal, sunny day.

Leona’s in your apartment, lounging like he lives here—which he sort of does at this point, considering how often he shows up without knocking. He’s flicking at one of your crocheted cactus hats with a deeply unimpressed expression, like it's personally offended his sense of aesthetics.

“You’re wasting perfectly good yarn,” he mutters. “This thing looks like a limp sea anemone.”

You throw a cushion at him. “Shut up. It has character.”

He snorts and catches it easily. He looks too big for your space. Too dangerous for your IKEA throw pillows. Too important to be wearing a hoodie you accidentally shrank in the wash, but he is, and it’s riding up just a bit at his waist.

And you—you’re just watching him, feeling the weight of it. The Gate breach. The kiss. The way he let you in like you never left. The way you still know exactly how to guide him better than anyone.

You set your tea down a little too firmly and blurt, “I want to form a permanent bond.”

The room stills. Leona doesn’t move. His hand is frozen mid-poke, just inches from your succulents-in-hats lineup.

“What?”

You swallow. “I want to bond permanently. With you.”

He turns to look at you slowly, eyes sharp, reading every inch of your face. “You serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“You sure this isn’t the post-massacre adrenaline talking?” he says, voice flat. “People say weird shit after trauma.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Okay, yes, I saw several eldritch nightmares and had to fight one with a leek, but I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I’m not going back to guiding just anyone. I only want to guide you.”

Leona’s quiet for a long time. Then he sits up—really sits up—and leans forward, forearms on his knees, staring at the floor like it's hiding answers in the carpet pattern.

“You don’t get to change your mind after this,” he says, low. “It’s a one-way door.”

“I know.”

“You’ll feel what I feel,” he says. “You’ll know what I feel. Even the ugly stuff. Especially the ugly stuff.”

You smile. “Leona, I’ve seen you eat cold pizza at 7 a.m. while shirtless and complaining about filler episodes. I know ugly.”

He groans like you’ve physically injured him and slumps back again. “You’re gonna make me regret this with your dumb jokes.”

But there’s a warmth in his tone now, soft and fond and careful.

He stands up and walks to you, crowding into your space, eyes locked on yours like he’s giving you one last chance to back out. You don’t. You reach out and link your fingers through his.

And he exhales shakily. “Okay then.”

He presses you back into the couch—your stupid, lumpy, too-small couch with the blanket that smells like lavender detergent—and his hands are cupping your face, his forehead resting against yours.

He looks at you, eyes bright. “You’re stuck with me now, y’know.”

You grin. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And just like that, you’re not just a guide and an esper anymore.

You’re his. And he’s yours. Permanently.

Leona remembered the first time he met you like it was a fever dream—a chaotic, embarrassing, infuriating fever dream.

He’d been a rookie then. Raw, unstable, claws out at the world and not interested in anyone who thought they could leash him. He didn’t need a guide. Didn’t want a guide. Especially not in some packed training center with too many bodies and not enough air.

And then you happened.

He had just come out of an intense simulated Gate. Aura flaring wild, brain buzzing with static, teeth gritted like he could physically bite down on the overwhelming noise in his head. The instructors had already radioed for a Class A guide, probably even a Class S, someone who could deal with an untamable lion.

Instead, they got you.

You must’ve been nearby and operating on some unhinged kind of autopilot, because you stumbled into the fray like a grad student five espresso shots deep and grabbed him by the collar without even checking his ID tag.

And then—then—you had the audacity to guide him.

It wasn’t the gentle coaxing kind either. It was hands in his hair, forehead pressed to his temple, murmured words like a mantra while he struggled to get away. He’d cursed, snarled, told you to back off before he did something you’d regret.

And you? You pulled his ear.

Pulled his fucking ear like he was a naughty cat on a countertop.

“Sit still, I’m working,” you’d snapped at him, voice sharp and fed-up like this was your fourth Gate that day and you were not about to let some rookie cat-boy ruin your stats.

And then—

Then it all bled away.

The noise. The storm. The static. It melted under your touch, under that weird, grounding, relentless presence of yours. He remembered your aura—bright, strong, so confident in a way you clearly hadn’t earned yet, but hell, it worked.

By the time he came back to himself, panting and blinking in the too-bright light, you were already gone, off to stabilise the next idiot without even sparing him a backward glance.

He had to ask someone your name.

It pissed him off for weeks.

Because you hadn’t even realized who you’d grabbed. You hadn’t known he was a potential SS-class Esper. You hadn’t cared. You’d just seen a wild beast and told it to sit down while you fixed it.

And somehow… it had worked.

He remembered it like a film reel soaked in rain—gray skies cracked open, streets slick and flooding, people scrambling like wet rats to get to cover. And in the middle of that chaos, you.

The only dry, smug bastard in the entire goddamn city.

The rain hadn’t touched you. Not one drop. Umbrella balanced perfectly, a coffee in one hand, phone in the other, like the gates of hell hadn’t just burst three blocks over. You were humming. Humming, for crying out loud.

And Leona had frozen mid-step. Not because of the gate, or the suppression order blaring in his ear—he didn’t even hear it anymore.

It was you.

The same energy. Same aura. That same maddening calm like a slap to the face. He didn’t even need to reach for his senses to know it was you—the one who yanked his ear and made his soul stop screaming all those years ago.

He’d spent months trying to forget that moment. Or rather, trying not to remember it too fondly. That was the worst part: how easy it had been to just give in to your touch. No fights. No snarling. No claws. Just... quiet.

And now here you were, in his city, acting like the rain had never met you, walking through a Gate breach zone like it was your stupid, peaceful backyard.

You didn’t even flinch when he stepped up to you.

Didn’t bristle.

Didn’t bow like the others.

Just blinked at him and went, “I'm just an S class guide.”

And that—

That pissed him off.

Because you didn’t recognize him.

After all that? The ear-pulling? The spiritual mugging you gave his aura? The time you wrangled his chaos into submission with the annoyed grace of someone trying to fix a printer jam?

You didn’t even remember.

Leona’s eye twitched.

No. Fine. That was fine. He could work with this.

He’d just have to remind you.

He leaned in, voice low and lazy, that smile curling sharp and knowing. “Didn’t think you’d forget me, herbivore.”

Still blank.

“Oh?” you said, sipping your coffee like he wasn’t radiating enough energy to fry the sidewalk. “Should I have?”

Leona huffed a laugh through his nose.

Okay. You wanted to play this game? Cool. He’d just put himself on your schedule. He’d get stabilised. Regularly. By you. He’d show up with his whole chaos bleeding out and dare you not to remember what you did to him back then.

He’d make sure you remembered.

And by the time you did, he'd already be sleeping in your lap.

He remembered that day like a fever dream.

The burn of energy spent down to the marrow. The static buzz in his skull, everything blurred and muffled. He didn’t remember passing out. Only that when he cracked his eyes open again, he was on a couch that was too soft, under a blanket that smelled like you.

And you—

You were pacing.

Pacing like your heart was about to break through your chest. Muttering to yourself. Swearing quietly. Picking up your phone like you were about to call for help—and that was when it hit him.

You were scared.

For him.

You, who once yanked his ear like he was a brat in time-out. Who lectured monsters and officials alike with the same exhausted sigh. You were standing there, shoulders hunched, knuckles white, about to call an ambulance like he was something fragile.

Leona would never forget that look.

Wide-eyed. Raw. Like you’d just lost the world and were scrambling to piece it back together.

He stirred just to stop you from dialing, more out of instinct than anything, and your reaction—Sevens. You swatted him like he was the one who gave you heart failure, your voice wobbly as you whined about how close you’d come to losing your “life juice thief.”

And something in his chest broke a little.

He didn’t say anything. Just patted your head with a heavy hand, tugged you onto the couch like you weighed nothing, and pulled you close. Too tired to talk. Too overwhelmed to pretend.

You didn’t argue. You just curled against him, the two of you folded together on that stupid couch not built for two.

He fell asleep with your heartbeat right there, under his hand.

And later, when he pretended it was the proximity that calmed him and not you, he knew he was lying. Because that image of you—panicked, pacing, nearly in tears because of him—was burned into his brain like a brand.

He thought: No one’s ever looked at me like that.

And maybe that’s when it happened.

Maybe that’s when he stopped running from what you meant to him.

Leona remembers the gate break too clearly.

Not because it was the bloodiest he’d seen—though it was. Not because the air had smelled like ozone and rot, or because the monsters had crawled out of that rift like nightmares given shape. Not even because they lost people, though the weight of that had sunk deep into his spine.

No.

He remembers it because of you.

You weren’t supposed to be there. You were supposed to be off somewhere doing idiot hobbies and yelling at your succulents. Not standing there, pale as ash, looking at the wreckage with wide, hollow eyes.

He’d spotted you across the chaos, just as another stretcher went past you, another guide screaming for medics. And you just stood there, frozen. Staring. Not blinking.

Leona moved before he even realized it, instincts kicking in harder than battle mode ever had.

You didn’t flinch when his hand covered your eyes from behind.

"Don’t look, herbivore," he muttered. Not like a command. Like a plea.

You made a small sound—shaky, half-choked—and he felt it. That tremble that ran through your body like a frayed wire.

And he knew, right then, that he’d never forget your expression. The look of someone who’d seen one horror too many. The kind that made you never sleep easy again.

He turned you around, tucked you under his arm like he could shield you from the world with just his presence alone, and walked you to the temporary camps.

You guided him there—your hands still trembling, voice quiet—but you guided him all the same.

He watched you carefully the whole time, like if he blinked, you’d disappear. Like if he wasn’t careful, you'd shatter.

And he swore—

If he could help it, he’d never let you wear that look again. Not for gates. Not for anyone. Not even for him.

Leona had felt fear before.

The kind that came with being outnumbered by monsters too big for even his claws to take down. The cold sweat of overusing his abilities to the point his bones felt like glass. The fury of watching comrades fall mid-battle.

But none of it—not once—had made his stomach drop the way it did when he opened your office door and saw the place getting cleared out.

Your desk was bare. The plant you used to scold for not thriving was gone. The mug that said “Espers are drama queens” was nowhere to be found. There was just a box, some paperwork, and a couple of Guides gossiping in the hallway.

“Transferred?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Nah,” someone said. “Resigned. Burnout, probably.”

His vision tunneled.

Burnout.

You’d burned out—and you hadn’t said a word.

Leona didn’t even remember leaving the office. He just remembered standing in front of your door, knuckles aching from how hard he knocked, heart rattling in his chest like something was trying to break free. You opened it after what felt like eternity, hair a mess, hoodie too big, eyes shadowed with exhaustion.

And you smiled.

Small. Tired. But real.

It wrecked him.

You explained in soft words—words that he barely heard because he was watching the way your shoulders curled in, the way your voice wavered when you said “I needed a break.”

And Leona… he said nothing.

Because what could he say?

“Come back?”

“Let me fix it?”

“I need you?”

No. He wasn’t good with words like that. So he just walked past you, flopped on your couch, and turned on the dumbest show in your streaming queue. The one with the laugh track you always made fun of. The one you claimed made your brain smooth enough to nap.

And you came and curled next to him without saying a word.

Leona didn’t sleep that night. He watched you instead. Watched your face soften as the tension bled away. Watched your chest rise and fall. Watched the proof that you were still here, even if a little frayed at the edges.

He stayed until morning.

Because if you couldn’t carry the world for a while, he’d hold it up for you instead

Leona refused to let anyone guide him after you left.

They tried, of course. S-class guides who were calm and polished, eager to work with him. People with pristine records and delicate, careful hands. They hovered around him after every mission, offering stabilizing touches and soft-spoken reassurances, but he bared his teeth at every single one of them.

He didn’t want calm. He didn’t want pristine.

He wanted you.

And it wasn’t like he meant to be dramatic about it, either. He knew how it looked—how reckless it was to take on gate after gate without being stabilized. He could feel it in his bones, the exhaustion chewing at the edges of his mind. His temper frayed easier. His sleep was worse. But every time someone reached for him, he’d shrug them off like their hands burned.

Because letting someone else guide him after you?

It felt like cheating.

Even if you’d never been his. Even if you’d never called him yours. Even if you’d left the job entirely and moved on, arms full of groceries and that stupid smug grin on your face like you hadn’t just ripped something vital out of him.

He endured. And endured. And endured.

Until that gate. The breach that nearly turned into a disaster. His vision had been half-gone from the overload, his hands shaking from pushing himself too far. He was stumbling toward his car, snarling at the idiots trying to grab him, when you came out of nowhere, yelling at him.

Scolding him for not taking care of himself.

You, who had no reason to be there. You, with your arms full of cookies and your dumb little apron still dusted with flour. You, who looked so heartbreakingly angry and worried all at once, like he’d carved a hole in your chest and left it open.

He barely heard the words. He couldn’t think past the rush of your voice and the you-ness of it all.

So he kissed you.

He didn’t ask. Didn’t hesitate. Just leaned forward, dizzy with the ache of needing you, and kissed you.

You didn’t pull away.

You kissed him back with a kind of fury that made his knees weak, like you’d been waiting just as long, like all your feelings were poured straight into your touch. You guided him with your hands on his face, your forehead pressed to his. And for the first time in weeks—months, maybe—he could breathe again.

You were his fate. You always had been.

And Leona Kingscholar had never once considered being free.

Now, you're permanently bonded.

Leona comes home, not to silence or tension or the eerie calm of an empty apartment—but to you. You, burning something in the kitchen again. You, curled up on the couch in those ridiculous socks that he secretly bought two more pairs of because you kept losing them. You, complaining about your houseplants like they personally offended you, even as you tuck a blanket around one because “she’s sensitive to cold.”

He walks through the door and something tight in his chest unwinds. Every time.

Sometimes he still expects it to go away. Like he’ll blink and wake up, stuck in some sterile recovery room with a lecture coming and a headache already forming.

But then you smile at him, bright and familiar, and you say, “Welcome home, dumbass,” with that soft tone you always save just for him.

And it hits him again: you’re his.

You bonded with him. Not temporarily. Not out of desperation. You chose him.

Leona doesn’t care for sentimentality. But he knows—knows—he’ll never forget the day you tugged on his ear and made him yours.

Because something about the way you touched him… the way your hands didn’t shake… the way your voice didn’t flinch…

He hadn’t felt fear. He hadn’t felt chaos. He’d just felt—settled.

Even now, when you steal his hoodies and press kisses to the corners of his mouth and scowl when he eats the last cookie, he still remembers that exact moment. The tug on his ear. Your hand in his hair. The audacity you had to treat him like a person before he’d ever earned it.

He comes home to that now.

To you.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Leona Kingscholar doesn’t feel like he’s enduring the world.

He feels like he’s living in it.

You’re both tangled up in the sheets, legs braided together, skin warm with the afterglow, when you roll onto your side and ask, “Hey… why me?”

Leona blinks at the ceiling, arms behind his head. “Why not you?”

You nudge his side, unconvinced. “No, seriously. You had your pick. So what made you want me?”

He’s quiet for a second. Then he says, almost casually, “You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?”

“Our first meeting. It wasn’t during that gate in the rain.” He shifts, turning to face you fully, voice low and quiet. “It was way before that. Back when we were both still rookies.”

You squint, thinking hard. “You mean—?”

“I was a mess,” he says, lips twitching at the memory. “Raw, half-feral. I’d just come off a surge and nobody could get near me.”

You stare at him. He stares back.

“You,” he says, tapping your forehead lightly, “stomped over, grabbed me by the ear like I was a misbehaving mutt, and told me to ‘stay put,’ like you weren’t terrified I’d snap your arm off.”

And then it clicks. It clicks.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “That was you?!”

He raises an eyebrow, almost smug.

You burst out laughing. Actual, full-body, face-hiding, breathless laughter.

Leona watches you lose it, and something deep in his chest tugs—gentle, powerful, unmistakably warm.

He thinks, this.

This right here. The sound of your laughter in his sheets, the crinkle of your nose, the disbelief in your eyes as if you couldn’t possibly have manhandled one of the most dangerous espers in the country—this is what he wants every damn day of his life.

You’re still giggling when you huddle closer to him, pressing your forehead to his.

“I pulled your ear,” you murmur, like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “No wonder you’ve been so whipped since day one.”

“Watch it,” he warns, but there’s no heat in it. Just fondness.

You grin, and he kisses it right off your mouth.

Masterlist

[mystic-writings]

we’re just fine | daryl dixon

PAIRING — Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader

SUMMARY — after the fall of the prison, you find yourself in alexandria, alone. two months later, your family finds their way back to you. 

WARNINGS — angst, canon-typical violence/situations, pregnancy, fluff 

WORD COUNT — 5,000

NOTES — idk what happened to me all i know is i blacked out and then this was made. enjoy i guess

masterlist | navigation | requests are open!

Despite the pure monotonous routine you’d gotten used to during your two months in Alexandria, you couldn’t say that it wasn’t sometimes extremely boring. Your only saving grace was the mealtimes you had with Aaron and Eric at the end of the day. At least they had the sense and experience outside the walls to be able to carry out a conversation that wasn’t about what food you were eating or how the weather was. 

It was why you hated when they went out on recruitment runs. As their roommate, you felt awkward being in the home by yourself when they left the walls; as though you were intruding. You felt that way in a lot of aspects. An intruder on a perfect life that these people had grown used to in the wake of the apocalypse. A life where their only worry was whether or not Aiden and Nicholas would find the right ingredients for the food they’d planned on cooking during their supply runs. 

But there was nothing to be done aside from making a meal for one, eating alone with only a soft classical music CD to fill the silence, and to wait for the couple to come back home so you would have normal people to talk to. 

You were glad for them and the runs they went on, though. Or they never would’ve found you, and you’d likely be dead in a ditch by now. 

Your hand shook as you gripped the handle of your blade, wide eyes searching the pharmacy for any signs of walkers, or people. Being on the road alone for as long as you had been was making you feel like you’d gone crazy. Maybe you had already. 

Sweeping the small aisles, you found no signs of life. Most of the shelves were already empty, likely having been raided during the early days. Still, you grabbed whatever was available to you, shoving it into your bag before ducking into a corner, knees pressed to your chest as you rooted around for one of the final few cans of food you had left. 

You’d been rationing out what used to be a plentiful supply for a few weeks now. One can of food per day, nothing more. A lot of what you had was thanks to the traffic blockages on the highways and interstates you’d wandered along on your way out of Georgia. What used to be two cans a day for almost three weeks turned into one for the past week and a half, bordering on two. 

The lack of food wasn’t your only issue anymore. With no signs of life from your former group, you had every reason to believe that they were all dead. Logically, you knew they weren’t. You’d seen some of them escape in the firefight, yourself included. But without any real way of tracking them down, they were as good as dead. Not to mention the sudden and constant fatigue that the southern sun seemed to give to you, making traveling more difficult than you had originally planned. 

Even with no end in sight, no real indicator that the man you called your husband was still alive, and no true hope for your future, you still persisted. You found places to sleep for the night, whether in abandoned cars or gas stations off of turnpikes. You found just enough food to supply you for a few more days if you managed to stretch it thin enough, and you kept going. 

Just as you were about to crack open a can of corn, the crunching of glass and shuffling of footsteps alerted you to the body that had just entered the pharmacy. Its footfalls sounded too heavy and spaced out to be anything but a human. 

Gripping onto your knife, you held your breath and gently placed the can on the floor. With your bag still on your shoulders, you kept your body crouched and your ears peeled, moving around the person — no, people — moving around the pharmacy. 

“I’m telling you, we’ve already been here. There’s nothing left to take,” a voice reasoned. 

The footsteps ceased for a moment, and you paused, praying they hadn’t heard you. “I know. Doesn’t hurt to check, though, right? I mean, we can’t exactly go back empty handed. Aiden’ll have something to say about it.”

“But we aren’t out here for supplies,” the other stressed, “we’re out here for people, remember? New members?”

“I know,” their partner chuckled, footsteps resuming as they rounded the last aisle. You ducked between the shelves closest to the door, hoping to just outrun them and not have to fight them. There was a pause, a palpable beat, before he spoke again. “But I think we might not be coming back alone.”

A cold chill ran through your veins at the former’s words. He knew you were in here. He’d seen your can of food, or heard your shuffling around the pharmacy. In an instant, you were at your full height, eyes wide as your fingers clutched your knife tighter and you ran, against your better judgment, toward the pair. The blond was the one closest to you, his back facing your front. With as much energy as you could muster, you hooked your arm over his shoulder, dragging him to your chest as you pressed your knife to his throat. It wasn’t hard enough to do any real damage, but you knew that if you absolutely had to, you’d apply pressure. 

“Who are you?” You spat, hand shaking as it gripped the knife. “What do you want?”

“Woah, woah, calm down. It’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you.” The brunet immediately jumped into negotiation mode, putting his hands in front of him. The position reminded you of Rick, oddly enough, and your heart twinged as you adjusted your grip on the knife. 

“Then what are you here for?” You spat. “Like you said, there’s nothing worth taking here.”

The faintest of whimpers escaped the lips of the man you held hostage, dragging both yours and the brunet’s attention to him. “We’re just—” the blond gulped. “We’re recruiters. We have a camp not too far from here. A safe one. We’re looking for people to join us. People who have— have experience, out here.” 

His words, as stuttery and fearful as they were, confused you. 

“I’m Aaron,” the brunet said, keeping his arms up in surrender as he slowly slid the backpack from his shoulders. “That man you have is my partner, Eric. Everything he’s saying is right, and I can show you. I have pictures and a brochure in my bag, if you’ll let me get it.” 

Hesitantly, you nodded. Even if he had a weapon, most of your body was blocked by his partner — Eric. There was a highly likely chance that he wouldn’t try to harm you while you kept his friend in your grip, however weak it was becoming. 

Slowly, Aaron reached into his bag, pulling out exactly what he said he would. With Eric still in your grip, he showed you pictures of the place he and his friend called home — Alexandria. “Look,” Aaron sighed, stepping back a bit. “You seem like someone we could use. You have experience that we lack. Plus, it seems like you’ve been out here by yourself a while. We have walls, food, running water, and proper shelter. And if you decide to come with us, our leader, Deanna, will interview you. If she allows you in and you don’t like it, you can leave any time you want. We won’t keep you there if you don’t want to be, okay?”

With a shaking nod, you let go of Eric, nudging him toward Aaron, who enveloped the other man in a tight hug. “I— I can leave if I want to, right?”

“Of course, you can. No one will stop you, and that’s a promise.” 

It took a bit of getting used to, but you were glad that Aaron and Eric had found you that day. You’d been skeptical of things in Alexandria for the first few days, but you warmed to the entire situation a lot easier than you thought you would. You supposed it was because of how things were at the prison, but even then you weren’t alone.

Aaron and Eric, while not pushing the topic often, had managed to get to know enough about you and where you came from before they’d found you that they considered you a close friend. 

You’d only told them the briefest of answers. That you were with a large group in Georgia from the beginning, that you’d been with one of them for most of that time — even, at some point, considering yourselves to be married, though the symbol you’d had to show it had been lost months ago — and then another group came along and took everything away from you, simply because they could. 

The safety and privacy that the couple provided was something you were more than grateful for, even if you were sure you wouldn’t be able to have it forever. 

Because while Aaron and Eric, along with the rest of Alexandria, provided a structure and a sense of normalcy for you, you couldn’t shake the grief that fell upon you every time you were alone. 

The thought of Daryl being out there, combing every inch of Georgia for you while you were so far away, was enough to bring you to tears. It was another thing to think about the possibility of his rotting corpse roaming the woods in search of something living to eat. The thought that you’d never see him again, dead or alive. That you’d just push through life — however much longer that would be for you — without him, even though he promised you’d never have to go through something like that. 

The thought of your baby never knowing who their father was, and their father never knowing who they were, either. 

You could go an entire lifetime without ever seeing Daryl again, and the idea of it nearly killed you when he was still around. It hurt a hundred times worse now that it was practically a reality. 

The night passed without word from or the arrival of Aaron and Eric. It was common for them to be gone a while at a time — this particular trip lasting almost a week — but you hated sleeping in the house by yourself now. You were so used to waking up to Eric clattering dishes in the kitchen that waking up midday when they were gone only proved how fatigued you seemed to feel nowadays. 

Waking up to a knock on the door wasn’t unusual as of late, but it was certainly unpleasant. You were, however, grateful for the fact that when you were given a room at Aaron and Eric’s, it was on the first floor. 

Rolling out of bed got harder and harder with each passing week, but you managed it anyway. The knocking persisted, and you sighed as you made your way into the living room, shouting out, “I’m coming!”

The knocking ceased, and you pulled on the fabric of your shirt before answering the door, only to find Jessie. “Oh, hey,”

“Hi, hon,” she smiled, and you felt bad for being upset at her moments before. “Pete sent me over, said you were supposed to see him this morning?” 

“Oh, shit, Jessie I’m so sorry,” you said, brushing some stray hair from your face. “I overslept, normally Aaron—” 

Jessie smiled warmly, reaching out and putting a gentle hand on your arm. “I understand, Y/n, no need to worry. Just get dressed and head over to the infirmary. It’s not like Pete’s in any real rush.” 

“Alright,” you nodded, bidding Jessie goodbye and closing the door as she headed down the porch steps. 

Padding your way through the home, you went back to your room, pulling on some fresh clothes before freshening up in the bathroom. Routines like these were simple, but they kept you sane. You’d had something a little closer to it at the prison, but it was nowhere near as nice as it was in Alexandria. 

After eating a small breakfast, you were out of the house and on your way to the infirmary. The streets were quiet, as always, and the sun was anything but forgiving. People smiled and waved, and you did the same, even if you didn’t know half of the people in this place. Even after being here for two months, it was hard to remember such trivial things about so many people. Plus, putting names to faces was never one of your strong suits. 

Stepping into the infirmary, you were grateful for the burst of air conditioning that fell over your body. Smiling, you greeted Denise and Pete, the former of the two sitting on one of the beds as she pored over the book in her lap. 

“Alright, let’s take a look at you. Sound good?” Pete smiled, and you nodded back. 

While you hauled yourself onto the bed, Pete readied the ultrasound equipment. Pulling back the loose shirt you wore, your eyes glued themselves to the obvious, albeit still small, bump you were sporting. 

“Hey, I’m about four months along now, right?” You asked, eyes darting up to Pete, who confirmed with a nod. “That means you can see the baby’s gender, doesn’t it? I remember hearing that somewhere,” 

Pete chuckled, powering on the machine and taking the gel from its holster. “Most of the time, yes. If you want me to look around for it, I can do that. After I make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I really wanna know,” you said, wincing at the cold gel making contact with your skin. “It’d mean a lot. Then I can go full nesting mode. And so can Aaron and Eric, really.” 

The ultrasound went off without a hitch. According to Pete, your margins were clear, and everything looked healthy with the baby. It was always a relief to hear. There was little room for error with these things now that you had scarcely little supplies to work with. Finding the ultrasound machine early on in the apocalypse was a miracle in itself. 

“Okay…” Pete hummed, the wand moving and pressing over your skin. “The kid’s giving me a hard time with this one. And…” he pressed a few buttons, eyes focused on the screen before him. You watched his features intensely, as though his expression would give the answer away before he could say it. Pete’s eyes broke from the screen as he smiled, lifting the wand. “You’re having a little girl. Congratulations.” 

Your heart swelled, a wide smile overtaking your features as Pete handed you a towel. “A girl,” you whispered, eyes locked onto your belly. 

Before you were able to stop yourself, you were once more reminded of the likelihood that you’d never be able to share this with Daryl. Tears welled along your waterline as you sat up, swiping the scratchy cloth across your belly. Whether Pete noticed or not, he made no indications. You were thankful for it, and for him leaving the room to put the ultrasound equipment away. 

When he came back inside, he pulled Denise from her books and into the kitchen to talk, but you paid no mind to them. They were talking too low for you to listen in, anyway, and you were too busy trying to quell your emotions on the makeshift examination table to want to eavesdrop. 

By the time you were ready to leave, Olivia entered the infirmary, eyes scanning the room before landing on your frame. 

“Y/n, they’re on their way back,” she smiled, and you nodded gratefully. 

“They’re okay?”

The woman nodded. “Eric’s a bit banged up, hurt his leg I think, but otherwise they’re fine. And they brought a group. They should be getting here soon.” 

Exhaling a relieved breath, you slid from the bed, bidding goodbye to Denise and Pete as you followed Olivia onto the street. You walked side by side in silence, mulling over what she’d said. 

“You said they brought a group?” You asked, following Olivia up the steps to the house that held all of your inventory. “How many?”

Olivia huffed, brows cinching. “Deanna said it was a big one. That they had a lot of weapons, been on the road a while.” 

Your eyes widened. “A while as in the entire time, or?”

“Not sure,” Olivia shook her head. “All I know is I gotta get the weapons cart to the gate, if you wanna help?” 

“Sure. Should probably be there to get Eric to the infirmary, anyway,” you decided. 

And, sure enough, Aaron helping a limping, sweating Eric through the gate was the first — and for now, only — glimpses of the new group you would get. Aaron smiled apologetically as he spotted you, tucked out of view from the newcomers. 

“What the hell happened to you?” You said, looking pointedly at Eric, who grimaced as you took his arm from Aaron. 

“Roamers,” he sighed. “It’s broken, I think.” 

“You think?” You asked, eyeing the bruising flesh. “I can tell it’s broken. Come on, let’s get you to Pete.” 

Aaron thanked you as you wrapped an arm around Eric’s waist, helping him up the road and back into the infirmary. 

As Pete worked to wrap Eric’s ankle, you couldn’t help but ask questions about the trip. 

“It was a disaster,” Eric groaned. “There were roamers everywhere. Plus, this group, they’re headstrong. Been out there a while.” 

“How many of them are there?” You asked. “Olivia didn’t tell me.” 

“Fifteen,” Eric hissed, squirming as Pete positioned his ankle properly. 

Your eyes widened, throat going dry. “Jesus,” you huffed. “That many of them and they’re still going?”

“With a baby,” 

“Oh my God,” you gasped. Your mind flashed with images of baby Judith, heart clenching. The fall of the prison meant that you never found out exactly who made it out alive, and you never dared to venture the thought of whether or not she did. “They must be some lucky sons of bitches.” 

Eric laughed. “Not only are they lucky, but they’re tough. And really close. I think, once you get used to them, you’ll like them. They remind me of you when we found you.” 

“So, scrappy, hungry, and tired?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Eric laughed, and you couldn’t help but do the same. 

“If you need me, I’m four houses down.” Aaron pointed, Rick and Carl following his line of sight. “If I’m not there, Eric or Y/n probably will be.” 

Carl’s eyes snapped back to the brunet, a mixture of confusion and skepticism floating within them. “Y/n?”

Aaron’s brows furrowed at the boy. “Yeah. She’s a friend of ours, came here a few months back. Why?”

“We, uh…” Rick stepped in, a hand scratching at his beard. “We used to know someone named Y/n. that’s all.”

“Oh,” Aaron nodded, stepping away and heading back home, where you and Eric were sitting at the table, sandwiches in hand as you giggled about something he wasn’t aware of. 

Upon his entrance into the kitchen, you stood excitedly and hugged the man. “Glad you’re back okay,” you said, heading back to your chair. “I heard the group you brought was tough.”

“Yeah, they are.” Aaron chuckled, still mulling over the puzzle pieces in his head. “You said you were with a big group before, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

Aaron huffed, glancing at his shoes. “I brought up your name to one of the new members — just a name, nothing else — he said they used to know someone with the same name.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest, limbs freezing as you were bringing the sandwich to your mouth. Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to put the food back down, looking up at Aaron with shining eyes. “This man, what’d you say his name was?”

“Rick. Rick Grimes.” 

If your heart had been fluttering before, it was banging like a drum in your chest now. Your stomach fluttered, your hand coming to rest on the swell of your belly, hoping to quell the anxiousness. 

“Where are they?” You asked, and Aaron’s mouth only remained agape. “Aaron, where are they?”

“Down the street,” he finally said, voice cracking. “The house on the curb, the one you said you liked.” 

Within moments, your food and friends were abandoned as you practically ran from the home, shooting down the porch steps and down the street. You were thankful that no one was out and about right now, or you were sure they’d think you looked crazy. You didn’t even register a person in your path until you’d already bumped into them. 

“Oh! Y/n, are you alright?” Jessie asked, her hands on your shoulders as her eyes searched your wild ones. 

“‘M fine, Jessie.” You muttered. “I’ve gotta go.”

You gave the woman no time to respond before you were wriggling out of her grip and hurrying down the street. Up more steps, you were greeted by the charming yellow door of the home you’d wished you lived in, knuckles rapping frantically and unyielding on the wood. 

The door finally, after what felt like decades, creaked open. Your heart stopped in your chest as you took in the sight of your husband’s best friend, clean shaven and hair dripping from a recent shower. 

Rick’s eyes flooded with tears as they met your own. In seconds, you were pulling him into your arms, grateful that you weren’t the only survivor of the Governor’s wrath. 

You sobbed into his shoulder, gripping tightly to the clean white shirt he wore. “Rick,” you croaked, “is he—” 

“He’s fine,” Rick whispered, heart breaking when your sobs worsened out of pure relief. “He’s just fine.” 

When you finally found the strength to let go, Rick led you inside. “We thought you were dead,”

“There were times I wished I was,” you said, taking a seat at the edge of the couch. “I was by myself for just over a month. Found some train tracks, lost ‘em, then stuck to interstates, mostly. Got lost in the woods, found a small town, and from there, Aaron and Eric found me. I’ve been here for two months.” 

Rick huffed a laugh, disbelief filling the sound. “Sounds like you had one hell of a trek.”

“I had a car, for a bit.” You shrugged. “Walkers ruined that part. I crashed it into a tree. Stuck to walking after that.” 

“When did you…” Rick glanced down at your swelling belly, forcing a laugh from you. 

Shrugging, you smoothed your hand over your belly. “Four-ish months ago. Didn’t find out until I got here. Been terrified ever since, really. Not knowing if Daryl was out there, if I’d see him again.” 

“You’ll see him soon,” Rick assured you. “He’s talking to Deanna now.”

“And the others?” You asked. “Beth? Judith?”

“Judith is just fine,” Rick said, eyes leaving yours as he sighed. “Beth got caught out in Atlanta. A woman in a hospital killed her.”

Your stomach churned at Rick’s words, guilt crushing your lungs and bile rising in your throat. “Oh, my God,” you whispered, pressing your fingers to your mouth to try and stop yourself from throwing up. 

Rick nodded, resting a hand on your knee. He watched you stand, your arm resting over your belly, beginning to pace the floor before him. 

“I have to… I need to go see the others. Daryl.” And without another word, you were leaving Rick behind in an unfamiliar home, nearly running down the familiar path to where Deanna and her husband lived. 

The group milled about in the small courtyard in front of Deanna’s house, hidden behind the brick walls that fenced it in. Everyone was either sitting or leaning against something, sticking to a tight group, and completely blocking your path to the inside of the home. 

With your mind so set on seeing Daryl, on simply getting close to him again, you failed to register Carol saying your name. Once again, you were pulled from your thoughts only when someone was right in front of you. 

This time, Carol was pulling you into her arms, her grip on your body tight. You hugged her back, despite the sweat and grime that covered her. Soon enough, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, and Sasha had joined her. You were surrounded by your family, all overwhelmed at your presence, but happy nonetheless. 

When you finally requested to be let go, they obliged, and you finally spotted Judith in the arms of someone you didn’t know. Relief flooded you, seeing the baby healthy and happy as she could be. 

“What happened to you?”

“We thought you were dead!”

“Are you okay?”

“Guys, I’m fine, I promise.” You chuckled through tears. “I’ve been here almost the whole time, and I’m perfectly healthy. The doctor said so this morning.” 

You smiled as Carol’s eyes drifted from your face to your belly, shock overcoming her features, before her smile matched yours. She said nothing, but you were sure everyone else was either figuring it out or partially aware, just based on the interaction alone. 

A loud scoff echoed from the porch door, followed by low, gravelly muttering. Your heart stopped at the familiar voice, before thrumming in your heart like a rapid drumbeat. There, walking with careless ease, picking at his thumbs, was your husband, covered head to toe in layers of dirt and grime. You choked a sob as the group seemed to part around you. 

“Daryl,” you croaked, just loud enough for him to hear it. 

Daryl paused at the top of the steps, his eyes locked onto yours through the hair he’d let grow too long. In a flash, he was down the stairs entirely, rushing to pull you into his arms. You met him in the middle, colliding with his body and bringing you both to the ground. With one hand cupping the back of your head and the other splayed between your shoulder blades, Daryl cradled you close to him, rocking you as you clutched to the leather vest on his back tighter, sobbing in his embrace. 

“I thought ya were dead,” he whispered, fingers digging into your back. “I thought I lost ya,”

A choked sound escaped you as you shook your head. “Never,” you promised. “You could never lose me.” 

“Yer necklace,” Daryl croaked, tucking his face into the side of your head. “I found it, on the tracks in Georgia. Thought ya were gone…” 

“It fell.” You said, words hushed and shaking, as though they were a desperate plea. “Walkers were coming for me, too many for me to take on myself. It snapped off in the fight, I couldn’t go back for it.” 

By the time you felt okay enough to stand on your own, everyone had departed from the courtyard, likely into Deanna’s home. With a vice grip on his arms, Daryl helped you stand. His eyes raked over your face, tear-stricken and flushed with emotion. No matter the state you were in, Daryl could never see you as anything other than utterly beautiful. 

“You’re okay?” You asked, hands gently brushing the hair from his dirt-caked face. “You’re not hurt?” 

Daryl shook his head, leaning into your delicate touch. Hands smoothed over cloth, over skin, dedicating the feeling of your body beneath his touch to memory. He watched your eyes flutter closed as he did so, relishing in the slight pressure of his palms against your skin. They slid down your hips, your waist, and Daryl’s brow furrowed. He’d committed your body to memory long ago — every curve, every bump, every scar. Slowly, and with a hand that was less steady than it had been a moment ago, Daryl’s fingers drifted delicately over your front, eliciting a small gasp when he found what he’d suspected. 

The sound forced your eyes to open, meeting the bright blue of his own, widened in shock. Immediately, your stomach churned and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, a habit you’d been unable to shake since high school. 

“Daryl?” Your voice shook. 

“Yer…” he breathed, eyes darting down to where the backs of his fingers rested, the slight swell of your stomach confirming what he’d been about to ask. “When’d you… did you know?”

“No, no…” you whispered gently, shaking your head. “I had no clue when… I didn’t know until I got here. I suspected it on the road, but… no, I didn’t.” 

A shaking breath fell from his lips. “And yer okay? Yer both— both okay?”

“We’re just fine,” you smiled, resting your palm on his cheek. “I promise. Your girls are just fine.” 

Daryl’s breath caught in his throat, a new wave of pure emotion rolling through his body. It seized his muscles, freezing him in place as he struggled for breath and blinked away tears. Girls. He was going to be a dad. He was going to have a daughter. 

“Ya have no idea how much I love ya,” Daryl muttered, his head dipping low, forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“I think I have a clue or two,” you joked, voice as soft as you could make it.

Daryl scoffed, lifting his head and pressing his lips to yours. It was short, shorter than you would’ve liked, but it carried as much love as all the other kisses you’d shared and stolen with the archer over the years. Still, he was here, and he was safe, and so were you. Nothing else mattered except that. 

The horrifying reality you’d thought yourself to be in was nothing but that — a mere thought. For now, you and Daryl were safe. Together. As a family. 

And you knew that, as he slipped the necklace back onto your skin, this time on a leather rope tied tight, there was nothing either of you wouldn’t do to stay that way. 

forever taglist: @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @heliads

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[narrycherries]

ivy: how’s one to know..

Harry is just an ass and she’s just a stranger.

masterlist // ivy series

word count: 8.6k

warnings/tags: enemies to lovers, harry x fem oc, angst

[before you start: i edited this bc i ended up giving her name back to her, it’s no longer (y/n) but of course feel free to read it however you want and change the descriptors to whatever you prefer!]

The holiday season had wrapped up a handful of days ago and things were slowly starting to go back to normal. The sparkling strings of lights decorating neighborhoods and businesses all around the city were being taken down and shoved back in their storage boxes until the last month of the year circled around again. The weather was staying consistent, though. The gloomy overcast skies and chilly wind that whipped through the streets were enough to keep people bundled up and wishing for spring to arrive.

Most people she knew enjoyed the holidays a lot more than she did. Sure, she loved to see the colorful lights lining roofs and windows of boutiques and restaurants along the main strip. There was something so juvenile, so innocent about the giddy feeling that would fill her stomach as she saw a pile of fake presents and a decorated tree in a shop window. Somewhere deep down inside of her heart, she still had that spark that a child would have.

When she was growing up, she sought happiness during the holidays by admiring other people’s outdoor decorations or gazing in awe at the displays put up in her schools. She didn’t have what most people had that she went to school with, but she tried to be grateful, even as a young chlid, and appreciate what surrounded her.

A strong sadness was building in her chest as she slid the ceramic Santa Claus into his box to pack him away with the other Christmas decorations. She thought about the many years she questioned if Santa was real. There were so many nights when she’d squeeze her eyes shut and whisper out loud, her knees on the floor as she put her elbows into the mattress. There was so much hope in her. She believed that if she wished and prayed and dreamed enough, Santa would leave a present or two on the coffee table next to her dad’s stained coffee mug. There wasn’t a tree most of the years of her childhood, but her dad give gift her things (there was no magical Santa though). There were no twinkling lights outside of her window, hanging down from the roof with a clumsy droop. There were no ornaments to place on the branches of a fake tree, lined with a dusty skirt that would be covered with presents. There were no fresh baked cookies and steaming hot chocolate topped with marshmallows. The television never displayed joyful Christmas movies and specials. The radio on the kitchen counter never once sang a tune of a wintery song about snow and ice. No, none of that. It was just her dad, her brother, and herself for a while.

“Did you keep the box for this guy?” Emma’s curious voice snapped her from her trance.

She cleared her throat and looked up from her spot on the living room rug. Her ‘new’ roommate was holding a ceramic snowman who’s decorated style matched the Santa she just put away. She reached into the plastic storage container and grabbed the box, passing it up to Emma.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks, Ivy.” She smiled back, noticing that there was a glimmer of disappoint on her face, but she didn’t mention it to her. “You didn’t have to put everything away so fast. I would’ve been fine with it for a few more weeks.”

Emma had just moved in before Christmas. Her things were half way unpacked throughout the small house they now shared.

“I didn’t want it to crowd you. Besides, Christmas is over.” Ivy’s tone was partially rough as she began to pack away the miniature houses placed across the console table that the television hung above.

“I’m so excited to actually be here, like, full time. Niall’s a bit upset.. but I told him he’d survive.” She said with a laugh as she started to collect the small figurines that went with the village.

“I’m excited, too. I’m glad you’re actually up for decorating the space and not just.. letting me do it all. My last roommate was not particularly outgoing.” Ivy snickered at the thought, knowing she wouldn’t be missing that person at all. The girl was nice and all, but she was quite boring.

“Oh, totally! I’ve already got some stuff I want to show you in my room. Maybe we could put it out here or something.”

“I’m fine with anything as long as it’s cute.” She shot her friend a grin.

Emma wasn’t a new friend by any means. They met early on while they were both at university. Emma was actually her first partner for a project in one of their biology classes. They met on the third day of class and became friends very quickly. Their chemistry went far beyond the confines of the science lab. Emma was joyful and adventurous and offered Ivy that motivating spark to actually go out and have fun. Not that Ivy couldn’t match Emma’s energy once her veins were filled with alcohol, she just didn’t go out as much.

“Speaking of Niall, I haven’t seen him a while. How’s he doing?”

A proud smile crept to Emma’s lips. “He’s been good. But he’s been super busy with the store.. almost never get to spend time during the actual day with him.”

“But it’s going well, the store, I mean? Like he’s having success?”

Emma nodded. “It’s been great. I told him it would do good around here, especially with the college students. And besides, people are always looking for music lessons. I’m glad he took my advice and decided to offer those through the business.”

Niall was an excellent musician, or so Ivy has been told. She hadn’t actually seen him play anything in person, only through recordings and videos Emma had shown her. She knew Niall was talented, though. He played the guitar and the bass, both of which seemed entirely too complicated in Ivy’s mind. When they started dating last year, Niall was in the midst of finalizing a business plan and opening his music store. Emma told her all about it, including her fears and anxiety about the situation - but only because she was afraid Niall would get so caught up in the store that he would abandon their relationship. Niall ended up not doing that, obviously, and was able to balance everything in his life. He and Emma would be celebrating their one year anniversary on Valentine’s Day - which Ivy thought was particularly sweet and romantic.

“I’m glad everything’s working out.”

The store opened back in the summer, and Ivy had only gone by once to see the place. It was in a part of town she didn’t frequent very often, so the opportunity to casually stroll in was rare. It wasn’t like it was Emma’s store. While she did know Niall well enough to refer to him as a friend, she wasn’t close with him. She was supportive, of course, but not overly involved.

“He’s coming by later to help me put together the dresser. Well.. he’s going to do it for me, not help me.” She snickered as she joined Ivy on the floor to start gently laying the mini figurines in a small cardboard box they knew as home.

“I can make dinner if you’d like. Niall likes that pasta I make, right?”

“Yeah! He actually asked me about that a few weeks ago. He said I have to get your recipe.” She grinned back, rolling her eyes at the thought of her boyfriend’s obsession with food.

“He’s only had it like twice.. but it’s flattering to know I’m such a good chef.” Ivy laughed under her breath. “I’ll give you the recipe.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent on putting away the last of the decorations and moving them into the hallway closet. The box fit perfectly in the bottom of the closet. Emma disappeared into her room to continue unboxing her belongings. Ivy was mostly occupied with dusting the wood furniture and wiping down the kitchen. She liked a neat, tidy home and she was very glad to know that Emma did as well. She checked the cabinets to make sure she had the ingredients required for the pasta she’ll be making later on.

Every now and then, she’d hear a crash of something hitting the floor come from the hallway, presumably from Emma’s room. She would just giggle to herself as Emma’s dramatic cries of curses and sighs would fill the small home. Despite being friends for a handful of years, they had never lived in the same space before. Even while at university when it was mandatory for them to live on campus, they lived in different dorm buildings. Emma was in a sorority and definitely more comfortable with herself than Ivy was. She kept to her small dorm with her roommate, whom she didn’t have anything in common with but she was kind to her. If she were being honest, she thought Emma would try to move in with Niall once her old lease had expired. But, Niall was comfortable where he was in his apartment and he already had a roommate. As much as Emma wanted to live with him, it was just too soon anyway. They tossed around the idea, but Ivy mentioned to her that perhaps she needed to wait, just in case. Niall wasn’t upset with Emma’s decision to move elsewhere, as long as she was in the city close to him. Ivy was also informed that Niall’s roommate wasn’t too keen on letting someone else share their space. She had never met him before, didn’t even know his name, but she couldn’t blame them. She wouldn’t want her house to be permanently crowded either. Niall let Emma stay over there a lot, though, but spending the night for the weekend or on a random weekday when it was too late to drive back home was different than staying full time. And of course, Niall was allowed over whenever he wanted and she made that clear to Emma before she signed the lease. As long as he respected their home and didn’t leave a mess behind, he was welcomed.

A gentle sigh slipped past her thick lips as she trailed back to the living room. The open concept of the front of the home meant the living room was attached to the kitchen with no barrier other than the island. She sat down on the end of the couch, the damp kitchen towel she used to wipe down the furniture sat on the side table. She picked it up, along with the framed photo that was next to the pretty gold lamp. The gold of the frame didn’t quite match the lamp, but it was still beautiful to her. The ornate metal that decorated the frame was cold as she carefully rubbed the pads of her fingers over it. She stared at the photograph locked behind the glass, the speed of her heart beating increased only slightly.

The image was of her and her mother when she was around three years old. It was Halloween, she was dressed in a pink dress that was modeled after Princess Aurora, and her hair was curled and a little makeup playfully swept over her features. Her mother was dressed in a Cinderella themed costume, her matching golden blonde hair curled, too, and pinned up. It wasn’t the last holiday they spent together, but it was one of the only ones Ivy remembered. She doubted herself at times about the memory - she was only three and a half, did she actually remember it or was she imagining it? Despite always doubting herself, she knew too well that the memory was burned into her brain. She can remember the smell of the burning iron as her mom curled her hair. She remembers getting tickled by the fluffy makeup brush as a bit was applied to her face just to add to the illusion. She remembers the taste of the mini chocolate bar her mom unwrapped for her in the car in between neighborhoods - the night was full of trick or treating and giggles and squeals. She even remembered the way her mom’s hand carefully adjusted her curls when they got caught in the zip of Ivy’s costume. It was a memory she held dear to her heart, one she prayed she’d never lose. Ivy had always tried her hardest to find things to fill in the void of not having her mother around. But no matter how determined she was, nothing ever seemed to be enough. She found joy in little things, like collecting whatnots and trinkets that reminded her of the ones that littered her house when her mom was alive. She enjoyed searching for squirrels and birds in the park, collecting odd looking rocks during her walks, listening to her favorite songs on repeat, and a plethora of other things. But nothing could really fill the space in her heart.. It was quite a big space, after all.

That evening, after the sun nestled below the horizon and stars littered the dark winter sky, Emma invited Niall over for dinner. It was third day of actually staying here, since she opted to spend two weeks with Niall for Christmas between her parent’s place and his. Ivy was working on preparing the ingridents for the pasta when Niall knocked and was let in with a grinning Emma planting a kiss to his mouth. He laughed and brushed her off, not a big fan of showing affection in front of other people, even though he knew Ivy wasn’t watching.

“Hey, long time no see!” Niall said with a smile as he followed Emma into the kitchen.

Ivy’s eyes glanced over her shoulder. “Hi, Niall. It’s been a while, yeah?”

“I think you guys haven’t seen each other since the day we moved my crap in.” Emma said with a slight unsure tone.

“Your crap that still isn’t unpacked.” Niall sighed as he leaned against the counter, his arms crossing on his chest.

Ivy chuckled to herself as Emma began to give him excuses for why her things weren’t put away and in their new spots yet. The list included things like being busy with work, having errands to run, and of course ‘spending all my time with you’ that made Niall smack his lips and give her a sarcastic ‘okay, sure’.

They kept up their banter for a bit while (Y/n) rinsed her hands at the sink. She had finished everything she needed to do before actually cooking the food. When she turned towards them, Niall was peering his eyes into the pot of boiling water, frowning as he saw it was empty.

“She’s making the pasta you said you like.” Emma said as she grabbed his forearm to tug him away from the oven.

“Oh, really? That stuff was so good.” Niall’s eyes shot to Ivy’s. “I want a whole pot of it for my birthday, please and thanks.”

She shook her head in disbelief as a laugh rolled out of her mouth. “Isn’t your birthday in September?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, just don’t want ya to forget.”

“C’mon, let's start with the dresser, Niall. Let Ivy cook.” Emma said after checking the time on her phone. “We’ll clean up the kitchen after dinner, okay? Don’t worry about it!”

“Alright, that’s fine. I’ll let you know when it's done.”

And just like that, she was alone in the kitchen again. It didn’t bother her to be alone, she had been for most of her life, especially her late teenage and adult years. Finding something to occupy her bored mind was not a new task for her to learn. She opted for sitting at the small dining table after setting the timer on the oven in case she forgot to check the time.

Ivy pulled her phone from the pocket of her sweatpants and started to maneuver through the notifications that had come through since she last checked. One was a message from a random company that was offering a sale this coming weekend, there were two texts from Niall - the first asking if he needed to bring anything, the second saying Emma told him not to and to just ignore the text - the rest were random notifications from different apps.

Her attention went to her photo app as she scrolled to a few days ago, just a day or so after the New Year began. She went for a walk in the park close by one day during lunch when she had nothing else to do. She snapped a few photos of little random things, like a wild flower that had somehow managed to survive the low temperature, a bird that was perched on top of the black metal fence that lined the park, and a snapshot of the sky with the clouds parting in such a way that made it look like heaven. After having lost so much in life, she learned and forced herself to appreciate the little things that were around. Details of daily life, like the fall of a leaf to the ground or the chirp of a bird in a tree, were almost therapeutic for her.

Dinner didn’t take too long to cook, but the dresser was seeming to take much longer than Emma had expected it to. When Ivy knocked on the bedroom door and stuck her head in, she grinned as she saw Niall sitting on the floor with his head thrown back and Emma pacing the room with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Her once neatly fixed dark hair was messily tied in a bun on the back of her head. The instruction booklet for the dresser was laid out in between Niall’s legs, along with a torn bag of hardwear.

“Food’s ready.” She said with a singsong voice that made Niall pop his head up.

“Finally.” He quickly rose to his feet and grabbed Emma’s wrist, tugging her behind him as they followed Ivy down the hall and towards the kitchen.

“Eat as much as you want, I made plenty.” She said as she let them make a bowl first.

“Don’t have to tell him twice.” Emma’s mouth shaped to a smile as Niall practically pushed her aside to be first.

“Guests eat first, right?” He joked as he gave them both a quick glance, a smirk on his face as he grabbed the serving utensil.

Once the three of them had fixed what they wanted and claimed a spot at the table, Ivy offered to grab everyone something to drink. Emma and herself chose a glass of ice water while Niall requested a Coke. Emma had just brought home a box this morning after her quick run to the grocery store. The food appeared to be a big hit as Niall scarfed it down, spitting out compliments and satisfied hums that made the girls giggle and roll their eyes jokingly at him.

“Em told me the store is doing great.”

Niall nodded as he sipped his drink. “Yeah, it’s been good, actually. I’m glad.”

“I’m glad you do the lessons. I told her that people are coming in pretty much all day long.” Emma said.

“Yeah, if it’s not someone who’s into music already or just curiously out shopping.. The sign about the lessons really brings people in. And even if they don’t go through with it, they end up looking around and finding something.” Niall told them with a pleased smile, he was relieved his business was staying crowded and people actually enjoyed coming to the store.

“Did you end up finding someone to teach the guitar lessons? I know Emma said something about you were looking for someone else, since you got so busy with your bookings.”

“Yeah, my roommate actually. He’s decent at guitar and he’s just working with the beginners. I’m sticking to the people who sorta know how to play around that just wanna get better.”

Ivy nodded as she took another bite. “That’s good.”

The cooking had made the kitchen a bit warmer than it was before, so she pushed her sleeves up to her elbows. The exposure of the small tattoo on the inside of Ivy’s elbow caught Emma’s eye.

“Oh!” She chirped suddenly, making Niall flinch. “I forgot to tell you, Ivy, I’m getting a tattoo in a few weeks. Already got my appointment.”

“Oh, really? Where at this time?” Ivy asked with genuine curiosity.

“On my foot. Just a cute little flower. Niall says it's going to hurt.”

Ivy squinted her eyes and pursed her lips. “You don’t have any, do you?”

Niall chuckled. “No, but I’ve been told the foot is terrible.”

“I’m not a baby, Niall. It’s not my first one. Besides, Zayn said it would be fine since I’m used to the feeling.”

“Zayn is lying to you to spare your feelings and get your money. He is my friend, I think I'd know when he lies.” Niall was only teasing her, but it brought a flush to Emma’s cheeks.

“Shut up.” She mumbled through a pout.

Ivy was amused by their interaction, but she chose to move on with the conversation so Emma wouldn’t get too sensitive. She wasn’t over emotional or anything, but sometimes she would get embarrassed if Niall playfully taunted her in front of other people.

“Zayn.. is that the guy I met that time at the bar?” Ivy couldn’t remember the person’s name, but she was sort of sure that it was the same person they’re referring to.

Niall nodded to her. “Yeah. The one with all the tattoos.. I would say the one with the black hair but right now it’s platinum blonde.” The lift of Niall’s brows made her think that maybe he didn’t approve of the look, but he had no choice but to accept it.

“I thought that was the same guy. I’m pretty sure he told me he owned a shop.”

“He’s the best around.” Emma said with a laugh. “Plus.. he gives me a discount.”

“You’re welcome for that.” Niall puckered his lips and leaned her direction, demanding a kiss that he knew he wouldn’t get.

“Hush.” She pushed her fingers to his mouth and gently shoved his head back.

He laughed at her reaction. “Just saying, Em. He’s my friend.. like I said before.”

Emma ignored him and turned her eyes to Ivy. “Anyway, Niall can’t come with me.. so I was going to see if you wanted to go.”

“I can see if I can.. just let me know the date and time.”

“Alright. I will. Niall, don’t be a pig.” She groaned as she saw he had slipped from the table and was at the stove, piling his bowl full again.

“Let him eat it. That way we won’t have to worry about leftovers.”

Emma shook her head. “He’d eat the actual house if you’d let him.”

—•—

Ivy was puckering her lips in the mirror of the car visor as she applied her lip balm. It was chilly outside and the weather wasn’t being kind to her skin at all. She huffed as she saw the patch of dry skin right in the middle of her forehead. She had just applied her moisturizer before they loaded in the car to drive to the tattoo shop. Emma was driving, and every now and then she’d glance Ivy’s way and notice she was still staring in the mirror.

“What’s the matter?” She finally asked as Ivy slid the cover over the mirror and flipped the visor up, her back hitting the seat as she felt defeated.

“My skin is horrible right now.” She rolled her eyes to herself, upset that it was bothering her this much. It was just a bit of dry skin and chapped lips, she shouldn’t be so affected by it.. but she was. ���Even my lips are dying.”

Emma smiled. “I’m sure lots of people are struggling right now. I’ve got a dry spot on my cheek. It’s been there for a few days. Just the weather.”

“But it's annoying. Y’know my hormones are whacky sometimes.. feel like as soon as I get it under control, I break out or have something like this happen.”

“When we get home, we can look up some different products. Maybe we can find something better for seasonal dryness. My cream isn’t working either.”

Ivy shrugged and took out her phone to mindlessly look through one of her social media apps. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Even though the shop wasn’t too far from where they lived, Emma didn’t want to walk in the cold and she didn’t want to have to cover the tattoo with thick, tight shoes afterwards. So, Ivy agreed to drive back after they left, and after they grabbed some food. The shop was right around the corner, and it caught Ivy’s attention as they turned onto the street. It was just off the main road of the downtown area. The street was lined with different restaurants, stores, thrifting spots, boutiques, and a few law firm offices and an emergency clinic that stayed open during the weekend. She was familiar with the area, and had actually looked towards the tattoo shop’s sign plenty of times. They pulled into a spot and Emma took in a deep breath before pulling the keys out.

“Are you nervous?” Ivy said with an amused grin plastered over her lips as she opened the car door.

“What if Niall’s right? What if it hurts real bad?”

“You’ll be fine. You got one on your ribs and your spine. You can take it.”

Emma was still nervous as she followed Ivy to the door. She grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, allowing Emma to slip into the building first. It was warm in the small lobby of the tattoo shop. She was unfamiliar with the specific shop, but not the reality of one. It looked like the others she had been to and the place she got her tattoos done at. The walls were dark grey and decorated with interesting pieces of artwork and posters. There were rock band posters, most of which she recognized, on the wall behind the dark wood desk that acted as a check in counter. Nobody was at the counter, though. There was a small sleek, black leather couch pressed against the side wall, above it hung a large canvas with what appeared to be an original artwork painted on to it. She saw the signature in the lower left corner and smiled as she read over the name she had heard Niall use a few weeks ago during dinner. So this Zayn character was more than just a tattoo artist? She was intrigued by the brush work on the canvas, the beauty of the image was breathtaking. The muted colors stood out oddly bold against the stark white and midnight black areas. It was nothing like she had ever seen before. Although she didn’t partake in any form of art herself, she was an admirer. She enjoyed frequenting art galleries and museums and contributing to artists as much as she could. She once got a commissioned painting of a bouquet of flowers from an older woman in the area who was a somewhat known artist. The piece lives on the wall near the hall closet.

“Zayn?” Emma called out suddenly as she grew impatient with standing in the middle of the lobby.

Ivy sighed to herself as Emma disappeared through a door. It lead to the main tattoo room, with three different stations placed in it. The back room was Zayn’s private room that his clients were able to be secluded in. Emma knocked on that closed door and waited patiently. A few moments later, Zayn opened the door with a smile, happy to see her.

“Hi, Em.” He said, his accent thick as it rang through the small building.

Ivy heard them chatting, so she decided to peek through the door, a nervous smile on her face. Zayn’s eyes caught hers as he towered over Emma. He offered a friendly wave and gestured for her to join them. She nervously stepped over the threshold and swallowed gently.

“Zayn, do you remember Ivy? You guys met a while back.” Emma said with a gesture of her hand as Ivy approached them.

Immediately, she recognized his features - from his dark eyes to his nearly fully inked arms. His tattooed sleeves wrapped over his shoulders, around his neck, crept over each wrist and wiggled around his fingers. He was covered, to say the least. She could only presume the rest of him looked like that. Colorful tattoos mixed with jet black ones littered his skin. And she noticed, of course, that his hair was blond now like Niall had mentioned.

“I think so, yeah. You’re the chick Niall said could outdrink me, right?” Zayn asked with a laugh.

“I don’t drink that much.. but yeah, that’s me.”

Emma gave her a nudge of her elbow. “She can out drink anyone when she actually lets loose.”

Her eyes rolled as a smile toyed on her lips, still slick from the lip balm. “Yeah yeah.”

“Let me get my chair cleaned off and you ladies can come back here.” Zayn said just as he grabbed the knob to his private room.

They heard something hit the floor and then a shuffle of shoes moving against the tile. Emma furrowed her brows and gave Zayn a curious look.

“Someone in there?”

“Yeah, I just finished a piece.”

He opened the door and went inside, shutting it behind him again. Ivy turned towards Emma and gave her a smile, unsure of what to do next. Emma grabbed her hand and nodded towards the open lobby door.

“We can wait in here.”

They returned to the lobby, where Ivy was easily distracted by the art on the walls again. There was a print of a skull near the door. It had flowers pouring over the crown of it, which then melted to puddles as they hit the imaginary ground. She thought it was interesting and quite cool. From what she could tell about Zayn’s vibe, it fit it well. The music playing from the speakers in the ceiling was loud enough to be heard but not too invasive. She could tell it was a curated playlist going, because the song that just begun seemed to be sung by the same person as the one before.

“Zayn just texted me.. he said we can come back.”

“I thought someone was-“ Ivy stopped speaking the second a body appeared in the doorway. “Oh.”

“Hey, Harry.” Emma said with a friendly tone as she stood up, motioning for Ivy to follow her.

“Hey, Emma.” The stranger replied with a quick lift of one corner of his mouth.

Ivy was slightly confused because it obviously appeared that the two knew each other. She had never heard Emma refer to anyone by the name of Harry, at least not that she could recall. She licked her lips and let her eyes fall down his tall, broad frame.

“What did you get?” Emma asked with her usual curious voice.

Ivy was listening, but she wasn’t paying that much attention. She couldn’t help but be taken aback by the appearance of the person in front of them. He was tall, much taller than Niall but probably close to Zayn’s height. He looked like a sky scraper standing in front of Emma and herself, both of which were shorter than average. His long, dark hair shaped into curls that were messily laying on his shoulders. He suddenly swept his hand through his roots the second she realized he had such long hair. The motion caused the lights above them to ricochet off the rings covering his fingers.

“This.” He said as he extended his right arm to them, well mainly to Emma.

There was a freshly inked snake curling around his forearm, each scale placed perfectly on his tanned skin. There were remenents of blood speckled across his skin, and a deep redness that hazed over the entire tattoo.

“Wow! That’s so good.” Emma beamed at the delicate work.

“Yeah, took two sessions. Zayn got a bit tired last time.” He smirked gently at the girl he knew, completely ignoring the one he didn’t.

“Well, it was cool seeing you! Are you headed home?”

He shook his head. “Gonna sit here for a while. I’ve got to be at the store in an hour to help Niall.”

She checked the time. “Yeah, he said he was the only one closing tonight.”

“Emma?” Zayn called from the back room, his head looking around the doorframe searching for her.

“Coming!” She hollered back, taking one last look at Harry’s freshly inked arm. “It was good seeing you. If you leave before I get out of here, I’ll see you later.”

Ivy didn’t even realize she was tracing her eyes over his body. His arms were like tree trunks, muscles taut under his skin and veins popping out, rolling around as he moved. His legs were tightly wrapped in a pair of dark jeans, she could tell through the fabric that they were toned as well. It wasn’t until he suddenly walked past her, not even sparing her a glance, that she realized she had been standing frozen.

Emma started towards the back room, Ivy in tow as she felt an embarrassed blush cover her cheeks. She didn’t know this Harry guy, but she hoped she wasn’t staring too hard at him. It definitely wasnt polite to just stare at a stranger, especially when she was blanking out. What if she was making a face at him? Something nasty, or something rude looking? She was unsure, but chose to ignore it. He didn’t seem bothered by anything as he took a spot on the couch.

Zayn’s office was just as she expected it to be. It was a deep shade of green, the walls coated in framed prints and a few smaller canvases of what she figured was his work. There was a small accent chair placed in the corner for guests. She sat down and started darting her eyes around the room. The type of work that Zayn had pinned to a board on the back wall caught her eye. He seemed to be good at everything, but most of it was bold color work or extremely detailed realism, sort of like the snake she saw on Harry’s arm moments ago. She wondered if Zayn had given himself any of his own tattoos or if he went to someone else. Surely, not every place on his body was accessible by his own hands, but maybe some of them were done by him. She felt like an amateur compared to him. She had a few tattoos placed on her body, but nothing quite as big or detailed as what she saw on the board or on Zayn’s skin.

“Ivy is your new house mate, right?” Zayn asked Emma as she got comfortable on the chair.

“Yeah. I moved in before Christmas.”

“But.. you’ve known each other for a while, right? I can’t exactly remember.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, since we were in college together.”

“Zayn.. do you mind if I look through this?” Ivy asked politely as she picked up the small binder off the console table next to the chair. A few figurines of characters she recognized, an hour glass with black sand, and a plant lived on the table as well.

“Of course not, that’s why it’s there.” He gave her a chuckle, but kept his response nice.

She opened the book and started to slowly flick through the pages. She saw his signature on the bottom of the designs. They were all so perfect. Some were executed with such detail and precision that she could've sworn they were fake, others were more loose drawn in a free handed style or just more whimsical in nature. She saw a sketch of a few bees on one of the pages. They were in black and grey, mostly realistic with subtle, soft shading and delicate lines. The drawing was pretty and neat. She glanced to the corner, searching for his signature, but she didn’t find it. Instead, in the corner opposite of where Zayn favored to sign his name was a small H. She hummed to herself, curious to know why Zayn had someone else’s drawing in his book. She quickly shook the thought out and reminded herself that there three other stations in the front. They were not abandoned by any means, she could tell people worked at them based on the different things displayed and the personal trinkets and objects adnoring the areas. Maybe this was one of his college’s work or maybe it was random.

For the most part, the book was filled with things Zayn did. Some of them were his own creations while others were common tattoo designs just drawn by his own hand instead of being pulled from the internet. She liked the way he had a bunch of his own things offered in styles that were more popular. He appeared to be a well versed artist with the talent to create just about anything.

As Zayn prepped Emma’s skin for her tattoo, he was talking to her about Niall’s store. He asked how it was going and if she had heard any horror stories yet of Niall messing up payroll or forgetting to stock an item. She only laughed and said she was surprised he was staying so calm and organized. Everything about the store was going more than according to plan, as at least as much as Ivy could tell from what she’s heard. She was still so happy for Niall. His hobby had turned into a passion and a business and he was able to share it with others, it was like a dream come true she bet.

“Alright, are y’ready?” Zayn said with a deep breath of his own as Emma grew more and more nervous in the chair.

“I think so.”

“You’ll do fine, Em.” Ivy encouraged from the corner, her eyes now focused on her friend.

“Just take some deep breaths. Tell me if it’s too much.” Zayn told her as he pulled the stencil paper off her foot. The flower wasn’t that big, but there were lots of tiny details that Zayn knew would probably hurt her more than anything else she’s gotten. “Just a tattoo.”

“If I cry, you can’t tell Niall. I told him I could handle this.” Emma mumbled out with a frown as she stared at her foot.

Zayn smiled and leaned back, the gun still buzzing in his hand. “Before I start, is it in the spot you want?”

“What do you think? Is it good?” She asked him, twisting her foot to a different pose.

“It’s not my foot, love.”

She groaned and looked over towards Ivy. “Can you check?”

Ivy laughed a little but nodded as she stood up. Just as she was about to step towards them, Emma called for someone else to take a peek at the design.

“Harry? Are you still in there?” Her voice echoed through the room, she hoped that it spilled into the lobby so he could hear her. After a few seconds, she grunted and pulled her phone out to shoot him a text. “I’m so nervous.”

“It looks fine to me.. but it’s your decision.” Zayn told her with a gentle sigh.

Ivy looked down at the placement of the tattoo, her arms behind her back with her hands locked. ��Yeah, it’s cute.”

She gave Emma a hopeful smile before turning around. The door opened just as she moved her body, the stranger that wasn’t a stranger to anyone but her, walked in the room, chuckling as he saw Emma fanning her face, the heat swelling her skin with sweat and her eyes with tears - she was nervous.

“You always do this.” Zayn couldn’t resist laughing as Harry walked to them.

Ivy was back in her seat now, her eyes fixed on her phone as she waited for Emma to decide her fate. She could hear snickers coming from Zayn and Harry as they talked about the tattoo and Emma’s apparent hesitation that always came out when she was in Zayn’s chair.

“It’s fine, Emma.” Harry said, giving her a smile before looking to Zayn. “Make sure it hurts.”

“Harry, shut up!” Emma groaned and tried to kick at him. He laughed and took a step back. “You guys are bullies.”

“You’ll be alright, Em. It’s not like it's your first.” Zayn reminded her.

She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “Whatever. Go ahead, then. Thanks, Harry.”

“Welcome.” He said lightly before disappearing out of the door again.

Ivy wondered why he didn’t stay in the room with them. Was he not interesting in hearing the painful grunts Emma would sure be letting out soon or watching Zayn draw his design perfected for Emma into her skin? Maybe he was tired of being near the tattoo gun since he spent however long getting his own. She pushed the thought aside entirely the moment she heard Emma groan, curses falling form her lips but not directly towards anyone.

Zayn leaned over her foot, his fingers pulling her skin tight as he worked the needle into it. It didn’t look like it was much fun, and Ivy became grateful that she had no intention of ever inking anything onto her foot.

—•—

There was a freshness in the air as she looked around Niall’s music store. It smelt like freshly picked lemons, probably because he had just sprayed down the counter before she came in following behind Emma. Niall was in one of his usual band tees and a pair of jeans as he sat on a stool with a guitar resting on his thigh. He was talking with a customer, comparing the similarities of two different guitar brands. Emma found herself busy with the items on the checkout counter - dropping loose pens back into their cup and adjusting the pile of papers Niall had pushed to the side.

Ivy stayed curious as she looked around the store. It was very easy to get caught up in the different items, especially since she had little to no idea what some of the accessories were for. Niall provided more than just items for guitars. She didn’t try to decipher every thing on the shelves, just simply moved her eyes across the packages, curiosity settling in her instead of blurting out questions to Niall. The girls came by to bring him some lunch before they did some grocery shopping for the week. Niall was appreciative, but he was unable to entertainment right away.

Emma smiled as the customer approached the counter, the one Niall had been chatting with. She stepped aside and let Niall take over the register. He had another employee here, but he was in the back room looking for a specific thing they needed to restock on one of the shelves. Ivy waited near by as Niall scanned the guitar music book the customer wanted to get and told him that he’d see him when he returned for the guitar - the customer hadn’t made his decision just yet.

When it was just the three of them at the counter, a few customers were lingering around the store just browsing, Niall gave them both a warm smile before wrapping his arms around Emma for a quick hug.

“Thanks for lunch. I’ll eat it when Josh gets off his break.” He said with a sigh, folding his arms and leaning them on the counter.

“The store is so nice, Niall.” Ivy complimented as she glanced around.

“Thanks.”

Emma walked from behind the counter to where Ivy was standing. She was about to ask her something about their plans for the day when her eyes fell on the few pieces of paper taped to the front edge of the counter. One was the refund policy, one was about the instrument lessons, and the other was new since the last time she was here.

“Oh, a flyer? That’s unusual.” Emma suddenly said as she pressed her finger against the pink dyed paper. “For the show?”

“The show?’’ Ivy asked with a drop of her brows as she read over the words printed in bold black letters.

“Yeah, Niall’s band. They play at a bar across town every couple of weeks.” Emma told her.

Ivy remembered as soon as she heard it. Emma had told her before, long ago when she first started dating Niall, that he was in a cover band. It wasn’t anything serious, not trying to search for record deals or gain stardom, it was just him and his friends having a good time. They got decent money for it, including tips from audiences, and it allowed them to play the instruments each member enjoyed. She wasn’t sure who was in the band as Emma never got to that detail before.

“Oh, right.” She nodded as the memory returned to her brain. “That’s cool.”

“Can’t believe Emma’s never brought you to a show.” Niall said with a somewhat surprised expression.

“I invited her a few times but she’s usually busy with work stuff.” Emma defended herself, even though there was no issue with it.

Ivy smiled at her and shrugged. “I remember you asking a couple times.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to attend if you’d like.” Niall offered as he pushed himself off the counter the moment the bell jingled above the entrance door.

He went to greet the customer, someone he actually was used to seeing come in the store, leaving the girls alone again.

“Yeah, it would be fun if you came! You could finally meet Alyssa. She’s usually just home with her and Zayn’s kid.. she doesn’t go out much anymore, but she loves the shows.” Emma exclaimed with a sparkle in her eye.

“I dunno.. when is it?” She asked, glancing at the flyer.

“Next Saturday night. It would be cool, Ivy! We haven’t went out since Halloween.”

The stress building up at work during the holidays definitely set her back from enjoying a lot of things, including several invitations from Emma to join her and Niall at a bar or go out for dinner with just the two of them. It truly felt like forever since she got to have fun with her friend. She thought about it for a moment, but only lifted her shoulder at the idea. The mention of meeting Zayn’s fiancé was intriguing since she had heard so much about her from Emma, but she doubted that would be enough to pull her out for the night.

“Maybe.. depends on how the week goes.”

Emma gave her a partial smile. “Okay. I really hope you can go with me.”

“Yeah, you should definitely come, Ivy.” Niall said as he appeared next to them, the customer gone to look for the item they asked him about.

Once again, she let out a small sigh and faked a smile for them. “I said I’ll see how the week goes, but no promises.”

He gave her a fake, dramatic frown. “C’mon! Live a little!”

“I live a lot.. at work.”

Emma grabbed her elbow and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll convince you before the week ends.”

“M’sure you will, Em.”

After spending a few more minutes talking to Niall, and then waiting in the car as he and Emma disappeared into his office to say a private goodbye, Ivy was ready to get the grocery shopping over with. The store they frequented was near by, so the drive was short and easy. It wasn’t close to their shared house, but the prices were better than anywhere else. Emma offered to take her car, so that left Ivy in the passenger seat with her eyes glued to whatever passed by the window.

“Are you okay, Ivy?” Emma asked as they strolled through the fruit section in search for the items on their list.

She gulped gently, distracting herself by collecting a few apples for the cart. “M’fine, just tired.”

Emma watched as she walked towards the basket of lemons and grabbed two, she’d need them for a receipe she was going to try later in the week. Ivy was normally not this quiet. She enjoyed the task of grabbing their groceries and checking things off their combined list while Emma pushed the cart and double checked everything. Something about doing such a mundane thing made her feel content and comfortable, even if they decided randomly to try a new store they’d never been in. But today was different, Emma was growing concerned with her unusually quiet friend.

“If you’re irritated with me and Niall pushing you about the show.. I’m sorry. You don’t have to go.” Emma said with a soft frown as Ivy returned to the cart with a handful of bananas.

She sat them down and lifted her hesitant gaze to meet her closest friend’s. “I’m fine, Emma. Just tired.”

She shook her head gently. “No, you’re too quiet. What’s wrong?”

“You and Niall didn’t bother me, I swear. The bar thing is.. whatever. I’ll think about it, I promise. It’s just.. one of those days.”

Emma wasn’t believing it all the way. Sure, maybe Ivy was being truthful about the role her and Niall played in her newfound mood, or didn’t play - but something else was up. She licked her lips and decided to stay quiet as Ivy busied herself with grabbing the rest of the fruits before moving onto the fresh vegetables.

Although she didn’t want to press it any further, Emma couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened at the music shop or on the way to the grocery store. Her worry was growing quickly and it wasn’t very long before she was asking another question.

“Ivy, please tell me. Are you alright?”

She received a sigh as a response, a couple of tomatoes and a bag of baby carrots joined the cart. “Emma, please.. I’m fine.”

“Something is wrong with you. I don’t want to see you so down.”

Ivy walked towards the next section of the store, knowing that Emma would follow her with the cart no matter if they were talking or not. She held her breath as she thought about what was bothering her. She was too caught up with her racing mind to realize she was actually expressing her emotions on the outside. Emma noticed everything, so clearly she wasn't doing well at hiding it. There was no real issue, really, nothing that anyone caused by saying or doing anything. A lump slid down her throat, Emma was her friend - there was no need to keep anything from her.

Just as they turned down the aisle where the bread was, she stopped in her tracks and turned towards the cart, her hand reaching out to stop it. Emma froze, a lift of her brows offering confidence like a good friend should.

“The guy that walked through the door right before we left.. at Niall’s store..” She started with a strong voice, but it slowly faded to almost a whisper.

Emma nodded, encouraging her to continue. She looked down to the floor as the moment replayed in her memory. It wasn’t an unusual thing for her to experience, in fact it was more common than not. One little thing, one random glance from a passerby, one glimpse of someone with a similar shade of hair as her own, one note from a list of songs she knew were special..

“He reminded me of my brother. I.. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Her response made Emma’s stomach turn to knots. She knew that the conversation was over then, and there wasn’t anything else she could try that would break Ivy. The forbidden topic had been brought up, and quickly dropped back to the vault she kept it locked away in. Emma didn’t mention it again..

[a/n: this is a series! It’s a lot longer per part than my other stuff so I hope you enjoy! This is just the intro so it will be more interesting and exciting as it goes on! reblog, like, do all that lovely stuff!!] ** I did change this from y/n to an actual character but feel free to read her name as whatever you’d like

taglist: (notified for all // if you want to join a taglist for this series, lmk in a comment or message and I’ll start one)

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @victoriasigaard @ariiscringe @harlowsgirl @lomllover @haniaaa04 @sideboobrry11 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @fangirl509east @fruity-harry @sassamanda77 @lizsogolden

[covenha]

Synopsis: seonghwa harnesses the power of manifestation to get himself a girlfriend. Pairings: Simp!seonghwa x fem! reader Genre: crack, fluff, just seonghwa being a silly goofy guy Warnings: witchcraft technically? astrology is also mentioned WC: 1577 a/n: another self-indulgent fic is done! wrote this after i finished an exam so read at your own risk. i might right more bonus blurbs for this but who knows. this is a piece of fiction so it does not reflect who the characters are irl. please read the warnings carefully! and as always, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated 🫶

Simp!hwa had been content with silently pining over you. That is until one day he asked for a sign from the universe if he should confess. He was walking down the streets of his neighborhood while on his way to school with a little skip in his step, excited to see you. He was nearing Mrs. Nesbit’s house, an old lady with a splotchy memory but a kind heart. He stops to wave at her as she sways back and forth on the rocking chair on her porch. Then, as if she read his mind she goes, “Hurry up or you’ll miss it!”

Was this it? Was this the universe finally telling him to shoot his shot with you and confess his profound love for you? 

Well, the answer was no. Mrs. Nesbit was referring to the bus two blocks away ready to leave Seonghwa’s delusional ass behind. But it’s fine. He didn’t really care. All he really cared about was figuring out how to get you to fall in love with him so that you guys grow old together and live out your best lives with your two cats and moss ball babies. 

Now, Seonghwa knew that he had to approach this from a proactive standpoint. Sure, you and him have been friends since both of your awkward emo teen phases but he really wanted to cement in his chances with you. So he turned to the one place he knew he could get somewhat decent love advice from; Reddit. And with the wise words of Wefishyfishy98 he knew what he had to do. If he really wanted this he needed to use the power of manifestation. 

Simp!hwa wore your hair tie on his hand with pride. He read somewhere on twitter that girls liked to “mark their territory” with things like this and he grew weak at the knees thinking about you staking your claim on him. (Of course, in a completely normal and non-a/b/o kind of way.) I mean isn’t this such a boyfriend thing to do? He was clearly using the power of manifestation or whatever that fish guy said on Reddit. 

And this is why, when summer grew closer and the weather grew warmer, Seonghwa absolutely did not want to return it to you. 

“Hwa, C’mon it’s hot and I don’t want my hair sticking to my neck.” 

“Look, I can get you a new set of hair ties! Here, look at these cute ones I found on Etsy.” He tried to distract you with some cute kuromi hair ties he just found. Jongho is just silently observing the interaction between the both of you. 

You found it weird that he refused to give it to you even after you pestered him to but you decided to just give up and tough it out. And those ties on Etsy were kinda cute. 

“Fine. I guess the weather isn’t so bad today. What are you even doing on Etsy anyway?” you try to take a peak at whatever Seonghwa is looking up on his phone to which he quickly turns it off and puts it screen down on the table. 

“Nothing!” You seem a little taken aback by this. “Just… looking for plants for my… aquarium.”

“You mean your aquarium filled with moss balls… a plant. You want to get plants for your plants?” you blink at him. 

“Technically they’re algae.” Jongho butts in. 

“Right…. Well, at least you’re passionate about your moss balls?” you trail off. 

Seonghwa breathes a sigh of relief as Jongho nods on to you changing the topic to something about your mother’s extensive cacti collection. He opens up his phone again and clicks the order on his Etsy cart. 

“I hope this works.” He thinks to himself. 

That same night, Seonghwa started wracking his brain trying to think of something else that he could do that was “boyfriend coded”. And after much deliberation while staring at the ceiling, it finally hits him. She should be my lock screen! I mean nothing screams boyfriend like a cute candid picture as my lock screen. 

So, with this in mind, he scrounges through his gallery looking for a good photo of you to put as his lock screen. Then he spots the perfect candid of you in his living room sitting on the floor with lego pieces scattered all around the floor trying to assemble his lego death star with him. You aren’t looking at the camera, instead you look completely locked in on building the superweapon of the Empire with him. He stares at the image with a warm feeling spreading throughout his body. Without even realizing it he’s smiling like an idiot at his screen and he buries his head on his pillow and screams into it while kicking his feet on his mattress. 

That night he dreams of a distant future with you. One where he can call you his. Oh, and of course you can’t forget your two cats Lily and Bongo, and his ever growing collection of marimo balls.  

A week and a half later, he’s checking his phone every few minutes and then looking at the front door waiting to see if the delivery truck has arrived. Today was your birthday and the gift that he had bought you was running dangerously late. Which is why when he hears a truck nearing the property he all but zooms off the living room couch and to the front door. He accepts the package from the delivery man and quickly unboxes it. 

“It’s perfect.” he thought, smiling to himself as he delicately put it in a bag.

Later that day, as he walks you home just in time for you to have dinner with your family he surprises you with the gift. 

“Wha- Hwa? I thought we weren’t doing gifts this year?” you say as you accept the small paper bag from him. 

“Well, I saw this and I just couldn’t not get it for you.” he just smiles at you shyly as you look at him, surprised at the gesture. 

“Now, I have to get you a gift worth two birthdays next year.” you joke. 

“You’re the best gift life has to offer.” he thinks. But he shakes his head, a dumb smile on his face. “Open it.” he motions to the gift. 

You open and find a couple kuromi hair ties, just as promised. But also, a jewelry box with a bracelet inside. It had a dainty gold chain and a baby pink stone in the middle. 

“Hwa, I love it.” you smile at him. “It’s so pretty.” you inspect the bracelet. 

“Here, let me put it on you.” he gets the bracelet from the box and clamps it around your wrist. He smiles at the sight of you wearing the bracelet. 

He unfortunately had to leave because it was getting dark and he had to feed his cat at home. But, he swears he feels something in the air that night. 

“Please work.” He mumbles to himself. 

In hindsight, what Seonghwa felt that fateful night was probably just pollen, because the very next day Seonghwa finds Jongho coming down with a bad case of allergy sniffles. The cafeteria is filled with the sounds of chattering from hungry sleep-deprived college students and Jongho’s sneezes. 

“So, did you finally give her that rose quartz bracelet you bought from that Etsy witch?” Seonghwa’s cheeks burn at his words. 

“Yea. It was a good time too. Venus was in mercury gatorade or something.” he mumbles while picking at the skin on his thumb. 

“Ahem.” You startle both boys with your presence. You raise your eyebrows at both of them and decide to end their misery of staring at you with their mouths open in shock. “What’s this about an Etsy witch?” 

“I do not recall saying Etsy witch.” Jongho mumbles quickly then packs up his things, muttering some excuse about buying a gatorade from the vending machine. Seonghwa just sits there, mouth agape, trying to stutter out some excuse but nothing coherent falls from his mouth. 

“Hwa, you know you didn’t have to summon the forces of magic and astrology to make me fall in love with you right? I kinda already am.” You blush as you admit your feelings for your best friend. 

Simp!hwa’s brain malfunctions hearing this. Heart pounding, mind racing. Did she just... Did she just say that? She likes me? Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve been waiting for this moment for what feels like forever. What now?! I didn’t actually think I would get this far. Shit what happens next. Do I shake her hand? No, that would be weird. Just say something, Seonghwa! Say something!

“Will you be my manifested girlfriend?” he asks in a dazed voice. This makes you giggle before you shake your head then decide to kiss him on the nose. “It’s about time.” 

Seonghwa wastes no time in going in for a kiss. It felt like fireworks were going off in the background (it was just Jongho having a massive sneezing fit). The moment was perfect. It was magical. You guys stare into each other’s eyes and it felt like all was right with the world. As the both of you pull away from the kiss, Jongho sits down at the table with a purple gatorade. 

“You know it's actually mercury retrograde, right?” 

[ofourlee]

megumi x reader

you and megumi were like "🤞" you were constantly together. at the school canteen, on the school roof, or wherever. any group projects that need pairs? you and megumi. you two are virtually inseparable.

they say "puppy love," but you had no idea what you were to megumi. he doesn't know what he is to you either. in short, you're simply two ignorant high school students, worried that if one of you confess, the friendship will become uncomfortable. you couldn't risk anything, right?

while you're busy delivering hints to megumi, he's being oblivious and indifferent. (as if he isn't also head over heels for you.) ugh. is he too stupid to understand? or is he simply choosing not to see? you didn't know.

megumi enjoyed taunting you. he always got under your skin. but who are you to complain if you've fallen for him? he was always so chatty when he was with you; it was like a never-ending conversation between the two of you.

you two were polar opposites. you enjoy romantic comedies, romantic animes, romantic literature, anything romantic, and kittens. he enjoys action movies, informational books, sports, and dogs. but hey, opposites attract, right?

as you two walked home together, as usual. the rain began to fall hard.

he glances up at the sky, a little groan escaping his lips as he notices the black clouds accumulating above.

"crap…it started raining suddenly, didn't it?" he mutters, his tone tinged with frustration and resignation as he looks around for cover.

as you both seek cover, he notices children playing in the rain.

he looks out at the children playing in the rain, a tiny grimace on his face.

"those kids are going to catch a cold, playing around in this weather," he mutters, shaking his head in distaste. despite his initial displeasure at being caught in the rain, he can't help but feel a tinge of youthful jealousy as he watches the youngsters play and giggle freely in the rain.

"aw, but they look so cute. i used to play in the rain when i was little." you burst out.

"you played in the rain? seriously?" he says, his tone alternately mocking skepticism and dismay. he finds it difficult to envision you, who is normally so collected and put together, playing in the rain like a carefree child.

"yeah! you don't?"

he shakes his head, a little sneer coming from his lips.

"no, definitely not. I've never played in the rain," he says, his tone scornful and condescending. he can't fathom himself willingly getting wet and muddy, let alone enjoying it.

"gumi, that's kinda sad." you mutter.

he recognizes the real disappointment on your face and feels guilty about his harsh reaction.

"what? It's not that sad. i mean, it's just rain. why would anyone want to play in it?" he attempts to explain, his tone defensive as he dismisses his lack of childhood rain memories.

"why do you always have to be a moodkiller?" you asked him.

as he hears your charge, he sighs, his tone tinged with irritation and resignation. it is not the first time he has been labeled a'mood killer' by someone.

"i'm not trying to ruin the mood or anything; i just don't see the point in getting all wet and muddy," he says, with a tinge of defensiveness in his tone.

"you know what? whatever. you can stay here."

he raises an eyebrow at your remark, expressing surprise and unhappiness with your tone.

"what, really? you're going to go play with the kids or something?" he says, his tone alternating between amusement and irritation. he can't tell if you're sincere or simply attempting to get under his skin.

as you lay your bag down, you say, "the rain is extra heavy, and that's a rare occasion, so I'm not passing up the opportunity. stay here if you still refuse."

he observes as you drop your bag on the floor and get ready to walk out in the rain again. he is filled with irritation and resignation, and your insistence makes him roll his eyes.

"fine, go have your fun in the rain if you're so damn eager," he says, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall.

"oh, i will!" you protested.

he watches with surprise and subtle adoration as you move away from the gazebo's protection and gladly allow the rain to soak through your clothes.

he can't understand how someone could find delight in something as simple as getting drenched in rain, yet he can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy for your carefree and unconcerned nature.

"woooow!! this is so fun!" you shouted.

"are you sure you don't want to join me, gumi?" you try to persuade him again.

he pauses for a while, conflicted between his customary snarky and distant demeanor and a slight flutter of curiosity that he can't seem to ignore. he sees you twirling around in the rain, your laughter filling the air, and something in his chest tightens.

with a slight huff of resignation, he murmurs beneath his breath, "oh, what the hell…"

he rises up and walks out into the rain to join you.

"yay!" you screamed again.

he attempts to keep his normal cool and controlled exterior, but he can't help but feel a slight pleasure when the cool raindrops touch his skin. he looks across at you, his normal poker mask breaking slightly when he sees your delighted grin.

"you know, you're crazy," he mutters, a sneer forming at the corners of his lips.

"see? it's not so bad, right?" you try to comfort him.

he can't help but acknowledge that there's something wonderfully liberating about standing in the rain and letting the water wash over him, washing away his worries for a time.

"i suppose it's not as bad as i thought," he confesses, letting out a tiny sigh of despair. "but I'm definitely getting a cold now, thanks to you."

as you stand in the rain, you can't help but notice his wet face. his nose, long lashes, and plump lips.

he sees your stare, and his cheeks warm slightly as he thinks how he must appear right now, with his hair and clothes soaked from the rain and water droplets sticking to his eyelashes and skin.

"what…what are you looking at?" he says, his tone guarded and embarrassed.

"do i look like I'm looking at your hands?" you ask simply.

he flushes even more, startled and perplexed by your remark.

"what? no, that's not what I meant. i just… " he fumbles over his words, his typical calm sliding as he attempts to come up with a solution.

"you're so cute, megs."

the rain continues to pour hard, chilling the air and reminding him of the gravity of the situation.

"we're… we're going to catch a cold, you know. drenched like this, in the rain." he adds, earning him a mournful expression from you.

he softens as you make a disappointed look, his concern for your well-being taking precedence over his previous sentiments.

"hey, don't look so sad," he says, his tone a blend of sympathetic reassurance and kind reprimand.

"i'm just saying, you don't want to get sick, do you? i can't have you sneezing and coughing all over the place."

"but," you begin. "but i still haven't tried kissing you under the rain yet…"

there were a few seconds of stillness. seconds turn into minutes. he was speechless, and so were you.

you didn't realize what was going through your mind after saying that. you don't seem to hear yourself at all. but you can't let this opportunity pass, right?

he waits for a bit while a concept forms in his thoughts. he looks at you, his eyes skimming your wet form once again, the contours of your body plainly apparent beneath the clinging fabric of your shirt. his heart flutters again as he struggles with his own need and discipline.

a few moments later, he finally speaks up. "so, you really want to… you know, kiss in the rain?" he inquires, his voice low and little huskier than normal.

your eyes brightened. "yeah! it's like experiencing rom-coms in real life."

he gives a little, delighted giggle at your excitement.

"only you would think something like this is like a scene from a rom-com. you really do live in your own world sometimes, don't you?"

despite his remarks, he admits that the prospect of kissing you in the rain is strangely appealing. a chill goes down his spine as he imagines the feelings and emotions that would accompany it.

"yes, it is!" you protest.

he rolls his eyes again, but his lips show a trace of a grin.

"i should have known. you probably watched a dozen rom-coms recently and now you're craving some romantic experience you can reenact."

he can't help but notice how your clothing clings to your body, and the sight causes his thoughts to blank for a few seconds. he swallows hard, his eyes reflexively tracing your figure's contours and lines, which are clearly delineated by the moist cloth. he swears beneath his breath, and his cheeks flame up again.

"i… um, yeah, I know you love rom-coms and all. you love any kind of cheesy, romantic stuff like that."

he attempts to remain composed, but his gaze is drawn to your physique, the moist shirt giving little room for imagination. his thoughts are a jumble of yearning, restraint, and a hint of humor at your penchant for romantic clichés.

"so, uhh, you really want to do this, huh? kiss in the rain. like a scene straight out of a rom-com."

"yes, i want to."

he lets out a sigh, a combination of despair and exhilaration running through his veins. in this moment, he can't seem to refuse your demands; your passion is too contagious for him to ignore.

"fine, fine… you win. we'll kiss in the rain. just like some cliche romantic scene you've watched in a dozen movies."

you were overjoyed right then.

the rain continues to pour steadily, creating a continual background noise that adds to the intensity of the scene. he takes a step closer to you, narrowing the distance between your bodies. his gaze settles on your face, then gently moves down to your lips, which are slightly parted in anticipation.

"are you sure you really want to do this? right here, in the rain? it's kind of cliché, don't you think?"

ugh. he wouldn't stop talking.

"just shut up and kiss me already."

with that, he draws you in closer, his hands softly resting on your hips, the moist fabric of your shirt on his fingertips.

his breaths are short and ragged, and his heart races in his chest. he leans closer, his stare fixed on your lips, a mix of eagerness and something more whirling through his dark eyes.

"you're really something else, you know that? demanding to be kissed in the rain like it's some romantic movie moment. but I guess it sort of is, isn't it? In a—"

you've decided you've had enough. you held his face and kissed him yourself.

he's taken aback by your unexpected gesture, but he soon relaxes into the kiss, his eyelashes fluttering close as he responds to your lips. his hands tighten around your hips, drawing you closer to him, and his tongue reaches for yours, the taste of rain mingling with the kiss. his head is filled with sensations, the sound of rain merging with the hammering of his heart and the feel of your body on his.

he deepened the kiss, his tongue entwined with yours, the flavor of you feeding his mounting hunger. his body is pressed close against yours, the moist fabric of your shirt on his chest, and the heat of your skin through the thin cloth causes his thoughts to wander.

he pulls away for a minute to gather his breath before returning your look, his eyes darkened with desire and a hint of astonishment at your entrance.

you giggle to yourself. dammit! you finally touched those lips for the first time.

he gives out a breathless chuckle at your reaction, his hands remaining firmly on your hips, bringing you close to him.

"that good, huh? you couldn't wait to kiss me so bad." he adds, his voice somewhat cocky as he attempts to control his rapid heart rate. the rain continues to pour around them, and the world appears to have faded away, leaving only the two of them in this moment of closeness and desire.

"that was your fault for always talking."

he huffs in faux indignation of your words, yet there's a smirk on his lips.

"my fault? how is it my fault that you can't wait for me to finish talking before pouncing on me and kissing me?" there he goes again.

he pecks your lips one more time before pulling away, catching you off guard. what are we, megumi? you think to yourself

as his gaze moves over your face, he notices your features and how the rain has rendered your hair somewhat unkempt and your clothing cling to your body.

suddenly, your attention was drawn to the dog, who was also in the rain and playing by himself. you petted him.

he looks at you with a mix of astonishment and enjoyment as you quickly switch your focus to the dog, a faint giggle escaping his lips.

"of course, you'd notice the dog before anything else, even after that kiss."

[ixloom819]

Here's the next part of the Yan!Sylus AU. Enjoy!

Sylus was a busy man, being the head of an operation such as Onychinus. There were endless meetings to attend and paperwork to do. He would spend hours clicking on his computer, eyes only occasionally glazed with boredom as they scanned pixelated words.

But now, his office wasn’t empty anymore.

When you first appeared in this world, Sylus gave you a harmless administrative job for Onychinus, so you could make yourself useful outside of your knowledge. While complaining about work was a fundamental human aspect, you did truly appreciate having something to do with your day. It helped give you some structure in the day and kept the calmer days from being boring.

Now, the two of you worked together in the same space, filling it with each other’s presence. You would talk occasionally, but there was no need for conversation. Existing in the same room felt like enough to soothe your souls.

Mid-afternoon, you stood from your chair and stretched. “I’m going to go get a snack from the kitchen,” you announced. “Do you want anything?”

Sylus glanced up at you and smiled. “I’m alright. Thank you, my love.”

It was ridiculous how easy it was for this man to make butterflies flutter in your stomach. Giving him a smile, you crossed the room and stepped out the door.

You had a second where you heard a panicked cry… Luke? “CRAP, WAIT-!”

A blinding pain struck your head, and blackness immediately engulfed you.

…

The first thing you saw was white. White with blurry lines.

You groaned and tried to sit up. Your body aches all over, but you only remember something hitting you in the head. Was it one of the twins’ pranks?

You caught someone out of the corner of your eye. Was that… a doctor?

You’re finally awake, he said. You’ve been in a coma for quite a while now. We were a bit worried.

You leaned back, stunned silent. A… coma…?

…Of course, that made sense. Being put into a fictional world? Somehow romancing a character meant for someone else? It had been one of your first theories when you ended up in that world.

And yet… it had lasted so long. Felt so real. Was it really all just a coma dream?

…Was it all fake?

…

You don’t remember leaving the hospital. But here you were, back in your ordinary life.

Familiar faces - coworkers, friends, family - welcomed you back. Told you how glad they were that you were okay and how worried they were.

You met them with smiles that didn’t quite reach your eyes, assurances that you were fine, and appreciation for their concern.

Life shifted back to how it was before the accident. Back to normal.

But it didn’t feel normal. Not when you had adopted a new normal, even if it was just in your head.

You found yourself squinting as you passed a window. It was too bright outside. You were used to seeing black clouds and a blood-red moon. Even when you first arrived, it was beautiful in its unnatural climate. You kept wishing for the weather to turn overcast.

There was busy noise around you, but it wasn’t the same as it was there. At the Onychinus base, it was either peaceful quiet or a huge racket from whatever mischief the twins were getting into. The noise here was a constant buzzing that grated on your nerves.

And the people…

It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with them. They were still the people you knew, people you cared about. But note they seemed… dull. Restrained. Compared to the unbridled chaos of Sylus, Luke, Kieran, and even Mephisto, they were all just… flat.

…

You don’t remember going home, yet here you were. You were curled up on your bed, looking at your phone. Looking at the Love and Deepspace app.

Do you dare open it?

You have to, you told yourself. If you were going to get over your coma-dream-world, you had to start going back to normal. And that meant playing Love and Deepspace and remembering that it was just a game.

You click on the icon. You went to Destiny Cafe.

There he was. Large stature, silver-white hair, and scarlet eyes, Sylus smirked at you in all his glory.

Except… it wasn’t the same. You internally marveled at your mind’s capacity to give Sylus features that couldn’t exist in his finite, pixelated form. The way his eyes wrinkled at the corners when he smiled. The line by his mouth that the twins swore up and down was a dimple.

He spoke. “Welcome back, kitten.”

You flinched. Without realizing it, you had exited the app and shut off your phone.

Kitten…

You remembered the one time Sylus had called you kitten in that world. You had reacted similarly. You had flinched away a bit and immediately said, “Don’t call me that.”

Sylus was surprised both by your protest and the speed with which you had done so. “And why’s that?” he’d asked teasingly yet genuinely.

You’d felt silly admitting it, but you answered, “…That’s your nickname for her. MC, Miss Hunter, your sorceress. That’s her name. Not mine.”

I’m not her is what you hadn’t said but meant.

Sylus didn’t soften or scorn you, nothing to show acknowledgement. But you hadn’t heard him call you kitten after that moment.

It was ridiculous, you told yourself. Kitten was just the voice line used. It was your name on the screen. The game didn’t have the capability to say each player’s individual name.

Yet, it was a reminder that he wasn’t talking to you anymore. He was talking to the protagonist, the one he was supposed to love.

You didn’t mean anything to Sylus anymore.

…

You don’t remember going to the store. You’ve been having trouble remembering going places. Maybe you should go back to the doctor, get some tests done.

Right now, you were in an aisle, trying to remember what you were there to get. You scanned the shelves of foodstuffs, wondering what it was you needed.

Someone called for your attention. You turned to look at them.

It was a guy, one you didn’t recognize. He wasn’t bad looking, but he didn’t catch your interest either.

He told you that you looked beautiful. A bit surprised to get a random compliment, you thanked him.

Then he asked if he could get your number, saying he’d like to take you out sometime.

You froze. What was happening? Was a random guy really asking you on a date literally out of nowhere? It didn’t feel real…

A face flashed through your mind. Silver-white hair. Red eyes.

Don’t be ridiculous, you scolded yourself. Sylus wasn’t real. It wasn’t like you’d be cheating on him.

Here was a nice guy asking you out. Maybe this is what you need. Probably not as a long-term relationship, but something to help bring you back to reality.

He wasn’t Sylus. It wasn’t fair to compare this guy to a fictional character; standards made to be unmet.

Yet the heart was hardly logical. And you couldn’t ignore the pit in your stomach as you considered it.

So you thanked him, informed him you weren’t interested in dating at the moment, and then left the aisle.

…

You don’t remember coming into a waiting room. The walls were all white. This must be the doctor’s office, right?

That must be why you’re here. These lapses in memory and purpose couldn’t be good for you. You needed to make sure nothing was wrong, that you were alright.

You passively scanned around the room. It was filled with chairs and side tables, and magazines were lying on the tables. There were other people in the room, presumably waiting their turn.

Finding nothing catching your attention and not interested enough to pick up a magazine, you sat back in your chair and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

How much time had passed? You looked at the clock on the wall. It looked a bit past… 

7:20? AM or PM, it was a weird time to meet with a doctor - either too early or too late.

Wait…

You looked around the room again, focusing on the people. There were people there, you were sure of that, yet…

You couldn’t make out any definitive information. You couldn’t tell how old anyone was, what their hair color was, what they looked like.

Was this…?

You grabbed a magazine. One last test. You opened it to a random page and tried to read it.

You couldn’t make out any words. You tried, but they came out as lines of black, squiggles in your vision with no meaning.

You were dreaming.

Your head started hurting.

That’s why things were so weird. That’s why you didn’t remember going places, because you just shifted to the next scene. That’s why you kept glancing over people, because they didn’t have semblance unless you actually knew them.

That’s why you felt disconnected from the world.

Because it wasn’t real.

Your head was pounding.

How did dreaming work? Weren’t you supposed to wake up soon when you figured out you were dreaming?

Wake up.

It hurts.

Wake up.

It hurts so much.

Wake up…

…

You felt the shift. Where you had felt awake and upright, now your body felt heavy with sleep, especially around your eyes. The headache persisted.

You forced yourself to open your eyes, blinking the blurriness away.

You recognize your surroundings. You were in the Onychinus medical wing.

You felt an enormous sense of relief. You were back…

The next thing you notice is the person by your side. It was Sylus. He was scrolling through his phone - probably some business-related stuff. His brows were furrowed in a way that indicated something was bothering him.

You marvelled at seeing him in his true glory. So many little details about him… how could your mind have come up with them? Your heart swelled at the sight of him.

You pushed yourself up, his name on your lips. “Sy-”

A splitting pain shot through your head, and you stopped in your tracks, hissing as you clutched your head. “Ow…!”

Large, steady hands grabbed you and settled you back down on the bed. You opened your eyes to see Sylus with his complete attention on you. He looked worried at the pain you were displaying, but you also saw relief, tangible in comparison to how you had seen him a moment before.

“Careful, darling,” he murmured. “You’ve got quite the concussion.”

“Yeah, figured it was something like that,” you said, trying to joke around the pain. “What happened?”

Sylus’ expression soured just a bit. “It would seem,” his voice was a bit chipped, “that the twins had forgotten that I’m not the only occupant in my office anymore.”

“Ah,” you said with comprehension. “A prank meant for you?”

“A prank meant for someone more durable,” Sylus agreed. “Trust me, they’re dealing with the consequences.”

You knew he wouldn’t hurt them. But you still winced inside at the idea of what Sylus would consider a suitable punishment for them.

You took a moment to steel yourself. Then you pushed yourself up again. Your head screamed in protest, but you didn’t stop until you had embraced Sylus, holding him in your arms.

You relished in being able to feel him. His body, his scent, his heat, his heartbeat. You didn’t realize how much he soothed you until you lost him.

You could tell you had taken him by surprise by the way he stiffened a bit. But he was quick to reciprocate, wrapping his arms around your shoulders while moving you closer to him to make you more comfortable.

“What’s this about, love?” Sylus asked in his teasing yet curious tone.

“I just… missed you,” you said softly.

“Did you go somewhere?” Again, said as a joke, but meant as a real question.

You had a moment’s doubt on whether to tell him. But you didn’t want to hide things from him either. “I dreamed that… well, this was all a dream. That I survived the accident and woke up.”

You felt the sliver of tension creep into his body. “Is that so?”

If you hadn’t felt the tenseness and learned his different tones, you’d think Sylus was merely conversational.

“Was it a good dream?” His tone was casual, but you could tell the hidden question behind it. Did you prefer being back in your world? Were you happier there?

And you knew your answer.

“It was nice to see everyone again,” you responded, because you wouldn’t lie to him. You moved back, wincing a bit, so you could meet his gaze. “But I missed it here.

“I missed you.”

It looked like your response brought back a year of life in Sylus. Any tension melted away, and he pulled you into another hug. “I’m glad,” he said softly. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that…”

You smiled. “Sylus, you don’t have to worry,” you replied, rubbing his back soothingly.

“My home is with you.”

Hey everyone! I didn't say this in the last post so as to not spoil the twist, but I'm finished with the main story of this AU. I'm planning on doing a few more short stories like this, and I may take requests, but that's about it. Thank you so much for all the support and encouragement. I wouldn't have gone this far without you :)

[saintslewis]

𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 | lh44

— one shot.

pairing: lewis hamilton x black fem!oc; nadia hamilton

summary: a very very special day for the hamiltons in tuscany.

warnings: cussing, a bit of social media

saint’s team radio 💌: happy valentine’s day my angels! wanted to give a little something (very small btw) and what better day than the day of love. hope you guys enjoy! ❤️

pls like, comment and reblog!

tags down below!

fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

-

TUSCANY, ITALY

august ‘24

“I like this. I like that I’ll get used to this life for a while, you know? It’s definitely a breath of fresh air from gloomy weather in Silverstone, no offence.” Nadia spoke, watching the sun slowly rise above the hills of Tuscany, the smell of fresh flowers wafting through the air of the master bedroom of their airbnb.

The mood in the house has been very good since they landed, the celebrations still lingering from lewis’ last win in Spa two weeks ago. It had just been the two of them before he takes a trip with his crew and Nadia having work commitments before ultimately joining them in Mozambique.

She lifted her head from his bare chest, looking into the man’s eyes, lightly swollen after waking up 20 minutes before. All he could do was hum in response, bringing his hand to rub her arm as she cuddled into him further under the sheets. “You’re right, wouldn’t mind moving here but it’d be quite the trip to Maranello.” He grumbled, lifting his upper body to lean against the headboard.

Glancing at the small clock on his bedside table, Lewis calmed himself down, knowing he’d spend the entire day just being close to his wife.

-

The pints of ice cream they held were nearly frozen in their hands but the two enjoyed it nonetheless. Sitting outside on the patio overlooking the massive pool that showcased the afternoon sun, Nadia took in the feeling of a vacation, finally after a long season of constant work.

“I never knew what to expect from this place,” Nadia started. “I always thought it was filled with young people and clubs and everything but it’s so…peaceful here. I feel like a puppy in a sunflower field.” She spoke, digging into her caramel flavoured ice cream.

Lewis snorted at her last sentence. “A puppy? Your descriptions are always so…interesting to listen to.” He teased, brushing his foot by her leg.

“Don’t laugh. I feel like a golden retriever just running through the hills having the time of my life.” I smile, ducking her head in laughter and slight shyness at her words.

Lewis felt the butterflies in his stomach flutter around as he watched her giggle to herself at her jokes as time passed by. He was eternally grateful that he convinced her to go into the town center for some ice cream, giving enough time for the people he hired to set up and leave in just the nick of time.

“Baby…baby!” Lewis snapped out of it once he heard the snap of Nadia’s fingers. “Thought I lost you there. I’m just gonna go change my shoes, okay? Don’t know what the hell I was thinkin’ breaking in new shoes.” She sighed, already taking them off and standing up from her seat.

Lewis nodded, swiftly moving the pint of ice cream to his lap to hide the bouncing of his leg. “That’s fine, Nads. You’ll catch me in the sun room, yeah?” He looked up at her, his nerves moving at a speedy rate.

“Sun room? It’s basically the patio with glass.” Nadia chuckled, holding her shoes in one hand and her phone in the other.

“Yeah, but the views are better.” Lewis shrugged, trying his best to stay normal.

Her eyebrows furrowed then relaxed. “Alright, gramps. Whatever you say. Hey, can we roll some in there?” Her voice going soft at her last sentence, not wanting anyone to hear even if the nearest neighbours were far down the road.

Lewis shook his head in amusement. He rather enjoyed seeing Nadia high and flimsy, much more animated than she actually is. “Sure, we can smoke. Just one though, Nads.” He said, seeing her smile widen.

Squealing, she leaned down to give him a kiss on the cheek and forehead. “Thank youuuu. I’ll be right back!” And with that, she hopped into the house and up the grand stairs.

Leaving Lewis to hype himself up and feel his pocket one last time before standing up and heading to the sun room, decorated in the most perfect flowers and sparkles just for the love of his life.

Nadia’s sandals snapped against the tiles as she headed to her next destination, her phone and small tin of joints in her hand as she hummed to herself. Getting closer and closer, she could smell her favourite incense scent of strawberry vanilla but thought that she was probably homesick.

The thing that did scare her a bit was that she began hearing the exact song that she was just humming - freudian by daniel caesar.

With her hands suddenly clammy, she reached for the door handle, opening it to what she thought was a dream.

There Lewis was, standing at the end of the white Persian rug with huge bouquets of lilies and white roses surrounding him. A small table of her favourite pastries on a tower with a few drinks on there with a few little trinkets. Just above him were strings of polaroid and printed pictures of the two of them, their favourite photos.

It was as if she was at the altar and the love of her life was at the end waiting for her.

Nadia first instinct? She screamed before covering her mouth.

“Lewis! Lewis! Lewiiiiiis!” She exclaimed, dragging out his name as she stepped into the sun room. “Lewis, what the fuck! How the hell did you do this, oh my god!” She squeezed her eyes shut before opening them again.

And just like that, the water works began.

Her legs gave up on her as she was now kneeling on the rug, covering her face as tears rose in her eyes. “I didn’t even dress all nice.” She sniffled, wiping her bare face. “Lewis, what the fuck?!” She sobbed while laughing simultaneously.

As she dropped to the ground, he immediately joined her, holding her as she cried tears of joy. “Baby, can I make my speech now before I forget it?” He chuckled, moving his thumbs to wipe her tears.

“No! I’m not ready!” She giggled to herself, quickly pulling herself together and standing up, leaving Lewis to kneel on one knee. “Okay okay, now I am.” She smiled at him, wiping the mini tears.

“Alright,” Lewis took a deep breath in. “Nadia Thandeka Hamilton. You are the air to my lungs, the sun beams that shine through the clouds when it’s raining and you are the flower that first blooms in spring.” He began, his tears pricking his eyes.

“Holy shit, this is…” He chuckled. “You and I are married legally however I hadn’t thought of the fact that I was ever going to fall in love with you the way I did in such a short period. You accepted my life, my family and friends like your own and you changed your life around for me. I’m eternally grateful for you and eternally thankful for our parents pairing us together.”

Nadia giggled, caressing his cheek as she waited for him to finish. “I am in love with you and I always will be in this life and the next. You already held my last name but now you hold my heart and soul with it too.” Lewis smiled softly up at her.

He reached into his pocket to take out a blue velvet box, opening to show the most beautiful diamond ring Nadia had ever seen in her life. “And with that I ask….Nadia, will you marry me?….Again?” Lewis held the box up to her and he just felt her hug in a millisecond.

Nadia tightly hugged him, breathing in the scent she found home in. “A million time yes. Always.” She whispered, pulling back to look him in the eye.

The two crashed their lips together, delving into each other’s mouths with a sensual touch to him, pouring their love into the kiss. After a moment of passion, he pulled back to reach for the precious ring.

“It’s perfect…” She muttered, watching it glitter in the sunset of the Tuscan countryside. “Thank you….” Nadia sniffled, the ring fitting snug around her finger.

“And…and I have another surprise. So, I know how important your culture is to you and how much you value it. I’m more than okay with having a traditional Zulu wedding and a white wedding.” He revealed, watching her eyes widen.

Nadia’s jaw dropped. “You….Oh my god. But how? Where? My family home is not in the best…..” She trailed off, watching his smile grow bigger.

“I may have sorta kinda built you a house. Back home. In South Africa.”

And just like that, it was lights out as she fainted in excitement.

-

nadiahamilton

liked by victoriamonet, roscoelovescoco and 1,577,378 others

nadiahamilton he loves meeee (ladadadadada or wtv jill scott said)

comments turned off!

-

saint’s notes!: Hope you guys enjoyed! 🥹

taglist: (if it doesn’t show, tumblr can’t find you!) @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @myescapefromthislife @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @jamie2305 @cocobutterqwueen @like-fire-love-blog @sugardontbesweet @simpfortoomanymen @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @eugene-emt-roe @deepgothfiremuffin @18754389 @cherry2stems @anubisnoir @littlelizzies-world @httpsserene @apenasumlug4r @eddiesbitch83 @arshiyuh @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @sunfairyy @vsfavs @louvrepool @mistruscity @tian-monique @hopefulromantic1 @exotic-iris13 @yeea-nah @nichmeddar @gg-trini @lifeless-firefly @vellicora @takeoffz-tookoff9876 @serpenttines-library @emjayewrites @lewisroscoelove @purplelewlew @xoscar03 @kidsol-ar @nothaqks @tremendousstarlighttragedy @ggaslyp1 @henneseyhoe @saturnville

[vivysnights]

TW: NSFW, fem bodied reader, use of f*ck, smut, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, make up s*x, unhealthy dinamics (don't blame me Fyodor is a warning himself), possesive behaviour (if anyone treats you like that please run away) Fyodor might be ooc and whipped for the reader, teasing, both parts acting immature (communication is the key people), no use of y/n, breeding kink, After reading ep 117 please don't hate my pookiebear 😞

Word count: 6.6k (I don't know what came over me so enjoy)

Click here for part 1

✧₊⁺.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊⁺✧

Yeah, I want it all (from you)

Bye, bye, baby

Bye, bye, bye~

⁀➴

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Don't you know who you're dealing with?

Um, do you think you'll buy me lots of diamonds?

(Yes, of course I will my darling)

⋆⭒˚｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Blurring the lines between real and the fake

Dark and lonely, I need somebody to hold me

He will do very well

I can tell, I can tell

Keep me safe in his belltower hotel

He's loving my look

And I'm loving all his strategic ways

I said "do you think you'll kill for me one day?"

(Yes, of course I will, my darling)

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Life was not easy—at least for you. Actually, the last few weeks have been a living hell. Well, the issue was your ex-husband. Fyodor. You tried everything you could to ignore him, but failed miserably. But why was he so stubborn and casual to the extent that it got on your nerves? Why, out of nowhere, was he talking to you about the weather and then suddenly asking you why you had eye bags? Or were you sleeping enough and well? Sometimes hiding your frustration was difficult. You nearly thought that he was doing all of it on purpose. That sneaky bastard. So, your day looked like this: go outside and accidentally run into your ex-husband, try to avoid him at all costs, hide, and fail miserably.

After that, go home and spend the entire day and night thinking about how to avoid seeing his face again. But he was appearing out of nowhere at the times when you least expected him. All of this was difficult because he was exceptionally smart and always a step ahead. And a little bit hot. He couldn't see your thoughts, right? If so, you would be in trouble. Because the last time he drove you into a corner, his body was so close to yours that you could hear nothing but your own heartbeat.

Also, the 'worst' part was how he touched you so softly, just like how you liked it. Like after your exhausting day at work, when the only thing you craved was nothing but his touch, and how you two only breathed in each other's presence while clinging to one another. But whatever it was, only remained in the past now. But the most absurd part was you getting nervous and not even making eye contact with him. Damn, why was it so hard? He shouldn't have any meaning to you or a place in your heart anymore. Look at him, already healed and living his life as if mocking you. So why did you feel so stuck and frustrated?

So you gave him indifferent answers like "Oh, I'm fine" or "Yeah, the weather is quite nice today. Isn't it, Mr. Dostoevsky?" Oh, so you knew how to push his buttons, didn't you? You naive doll. Reminding him of something that he didn't want to remember or even acknowledge was on his mind like a disease: the fact that you two were indeed divorced. That you weren't his—at least on paper. Well, what else could he expect? By staying by his side like the cute, clever thing you are, you've eventually learned a few tricks too, but who knew that you would be using them against him? But then he smiled....Oh, that smile that you adored...But why it felt rather cold?

So there you were trying to build up a wall between yourself and him, and there he was angry and in fight with his heart. And now the formality? Yes, it was laughable indeed. Of course, it was reasonable that you would not act...as you did before the divorce. It was normal, right? So he took a step back from you, smiled again, and said goodbye as if you were an old friend of his and like he was going to see you again.

And there you were, standing dumbfounded and trying to process everything while he was walking away from you like it was a normal encounter. Well, who knew what was going through his mind? Maybe he was up to some mischief? You didn't bother to think about it since your heart was beating abnormally fast.

But for now, seeing him wasn't the main problem because you had a wedding to attend—your friend's wedding. To be honest, you weren't the most excited person about this event. Maybe you've become numb to your feelings, or 'he' was just appearing from the darkest parts of your mind. Was it always like this? Even when he wasn't by your side, he was the only thing you could think about.

He didn't play some dirty tricks on you, did he? So, just to clear your mind, you put on your dress, apply your makeup, and get into the taxi in case it starts to rain on your way. It was a cloudy day. What lovely weather for a wedding, isn't it? The wedding was held in a luxurious place in the city. Affording a place that expensive must have been hard on them since they weren't that rich in the first place, which is none of your business, but going to places like that felt a little weird 'cause it only reminded you about those days you've wished to forget. After getting out of the taxi, gray clouds greeted you.

It was becoming clear that not bringing an umbrella with you was a bad idea. You began walking inside the building to take the elevator. A sigh left your lips. It felt like it was going to be a long night. It has been a long time since you went into a crowd like this. But it was refreshing to talk to old friends and have chats with people. It made you forget your worries and feel a little freer. The place was pleasant, just like how you liked it. You got some champagne and began slowly sipping. You promised yourself that you weren't going to drink more than one glass, so you were going to cherish this one glass of champagne well.

Your head hurt a little because of all the chatter and music. The lights weren't helping either. So you decided to get away from the crowd a little bit. Taking your only friend—a glass of champagne—with you to the nearest window close to the terrace, you looked outside briefly. Well, it was raining cats and dogs outside. Another sigh left your lips. The sound of raindrops falling down the window and the accompanying sound of thunder were putting your mind at ease, even just a little bit. At least it was distracting you from your thoughts. So you take another sip and try to come up with things that were nice about this place.

The place was to your liking, your friend was happy, you got your drink with you, and many people were there—many, many people, actually. It was crowded. Maybe if you stayed long enough, you got to eat a slice of cake. Many people you didn't even know greeted you, gave you compliments and kissed your hand as a compliment—a gesture to show their interest in you. Yes.....it was a wonderful wedding indeed. Your battery was low, so eating cake might make you feel a little better.

So you decided to take a slice for yourself. But as you passed through all these people with your remaining energy, one of them caught your attention. His back was turned to you, but you could tell who he was in an instant. He was a little far away from you, in a distant corner of the place. At first, you decided your brain was playing games with you, or maybe you were drunk, but your glass was only half empty. So you instantly took a turn on your heels and hurried in the opposite direction. Why in all of those people he was here? He wore a black suit, but he didn't have his jacket on.

He was holding it on his arm while his hands were in his pockets and talking to some businessmen that you were sure had enough money to buy an island on a random day because the city was too noisy for their liking. Also, the important thing here was that 'he' didn't even know the groom and wasn't that close to your friend to be invited to her wedding. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your palms were sweaty. Your only choice was getting out of here without him noticing you. Luckily, the bride was close to you, so you could just say goodbye to her and make up a story to leave early.

You exchange greetings with the bride and groom and try to keep the conversation as short as possible. The groom asks you if you like the place or not. So absentmindedly, you say yes, and the words coming out of his mouth make you lose your composure completely.

"Man, Dostoevsky surely has good taste. If it weren't for him, we wouldn't be able-"

The bride squeezes his arm and tells him to shut up. "W-what?" Is the only thing that comes out of your mouth after hearing his words.

But your friend just laughs nervously and tries to change the topic and starts to ask you questions about whether the cake is to your liking or not and other things that you can't comprehend at the moment. So you just murmur a short "goodbye" to both and start to walk away as if you didn't hear 'his' name coming out of the groom's mouth just a second ago. Your steps become faster as the seconds pass. With a still half-empty champagne glass you still hold in your hand that you forgot to put away, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of your high heels in the corridor that led to the elevator.

Seeing him at the wedding completely caught you off guard. What was he doing in a place like that? Also, when did he become that close to the groom to the extent that he helped him to afford a place this expensive? He wasn't the type to help someone he'd just met.

Oh......That sly man..... he knew you would come to this place so he could tease you until the end. Yes, that must be it, or you were just overreacting and he didn't care about you. Well, thinking about the latter made your heart swell. While thinking about these things, your fingertip met the buttons on the corridor for the elevator.

After pressing it, your fingers brushed against the skin on your neck and began to scratch it. It was an old habit of yours that you hated because it would give away the fact that you were anxious. Most of the time, you would make your skin bleed and hurt for weeks. To avoid this, you pressed the button again, as if pressing it repeatedly would make the elevator move faster. The sounds of the raindrops, the faint noises of the people, and the music could still be heard from the place that you were standing. That stupid glass of champagne was still in your hand.

The feeling to facepalm yourself was quite strong, but the sound of the elevator's door opening prevented that from happening. You entered quickly, pressed the button, and waited for the door to close inch by inch. The relief of being able to go home was spreading through your whole body. But— when the sliding door of the elevator was just about to close completely, a hand stopped that from happening. You held your breath because last-minute interruptions never signaled anything good for you—it was what you believed at least. The sliding door of the elevator revealed the person you wanted to see the last—it was none other than Fyodor.

He was there standing, one hand in his pocket, the other hand pushing the door of the elevator further to reveal your shocked figure. When your eyes met, your heart stopped, your breath hitched, and he was just standing, looking at you like he was devouring you, devouring your presence. None of you talked for a few seconds, and the only thing heard was a distant thunder in the background. Then he opened his mouth:

"Good evening, my dear. Running off when it is raining this much and with a drink in your hand is such a pleasant sight to see."

Yes, you could die from embarrassment right this moment. Not just you failed to run away but also looked stupid.

"Mr. Dostoevsky, good evening to you too. But I'm in a hurry, so—"

He raised one of his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly in amusement.

"Well, surely I can see that you are in a hurry. But dear, I don't quite understand the reason why."

Oh, how he liked to ask questions that he knew its answers to. He knew exactly why, but teasing you was much fun for him. Again, you weren't making eye contact with him and now playing with the hem of your dress to distract yourself from the fact that you were again, fell right into his plan. So you just turn your head to the side to avoid his question and give him the impression that he never asked you anything in the first place. Now his patience was running quite low. He spoiled you a lot didn't he? There is awkward silence that you can't stand, so you try to look at him from the corner of your eye without him noticing.

But when you do so, he is already staring at you with his deep purple eyes. His hand finds your chin in a quick but gentle touch and turns your head, so now your eyes are directly looking into his.

"My, my, you are not thinking of leaving when it is raining this much and it is also a shame that roads are closed too."

He steps into the elevator and casually presses a button inside. So now you are alone with him in the elevator and incredibly close to each other. Your plan failed with the doors of the elevator closing behind him.

"W-what are you doing?"

A chuckle leaves his lips as if you said something funny. His hand moves away from your chin as he steps aside; his warmth is now gone.

"Well, you are not planning to stay outside in this weather? Am I correct? There are rooms available for guests to stay the night. Aren't they very thoughtful? So I'm taking you to one, to rest for the night."

Oh, you weren't a step behind but several. But you were so sick, sick of all of this. His teasing and plans were too much for you to handle at this moment. Letting your emotions take the lead wasn't a wise decision; you were trying so hard not to. Elevator's door open and he steps outside and waits for you to come to his side, but you don't and stand on your heels. He was not going to let you get soaked and sick in this weather, or do something careless given your emotional state, so he takes your hand into his, even though he is only wrapping his hand around yours, and takes you to the so-called 'guest's room'. No words come through your mouth while your mind is screaming. You start to scratch your neck again. You want to hurt him, scream at him, and make him understand your feelings when he looks this comfortable. Your eyes start to fill with tears from frustration.

When he lets go of your hand and opens the door for you with a card that he's taken out of his pocket.

"My dearest, I wish you goodnight."

He takes that stupid champagne from you, and the things he makes leave you confused. He wraps his hand around your wrist that is scratching your skin and removes your gloves in a calm manner and puts them inside his pocket. Now, without your gloves that completed your outfit, you feel a little cold and a little bit vulnerable. He leans in slightly, taking your hand to his lips and kissing it before lifting his head and meeting your gaze. When your teary eyes meet his possessive ones, a chill runs down your spine. He squeezes your hand lightly.

Shit, even like that, he wants to ruin you. but fuck your eyes sparkling with tears just because of him makes him want to eat you whole so that nobody but only him could see you. That bastards who don't know their places putting their hands on yours so carelessly boils him with rage. They all should know that you only belong to him. So he continues to plant kisses on your hand, and now to your wrist. He sucks into your skin and licks it after to ease its pain so deliciously that it leaves you confused.

You don't understand why he is doing all of this. His soulless eyes, filled with darkness, only stare into yours as you free your hand from his. He turns and walks away, leaving you on the edge of the door. He is going to throw away those gloves that those filthy sinners' lips touched. He is beyond annoyed; no, he is going to burn those gloves first, then those foolish men later. Perhaps after that he will be satisfied. Your heart and mind were racing and your lips open to say the words that was going to make Fyodor stop in his tracks.

"Fyodor, I hope that my absence eats you whole."

He stops from thinking what to do to these men to comprehend your words. You wanted to hurt him, hurt his pride, and show him his own vulnerability. Well, actually, you did that. He wasn't planning to turn in his tracks according to his plan. But fuck, somehow when you were involved in his plans, they always seemed to crumble. A sound to show his dissatisfaction left his lips. He was just going to plant the seeds in your head to get you to come back. Then his plan would proceed. You're really something else.

He drank the remaining champagne in his hand in one sip, and his eyes staring to one point left to meet your back that was now turned to him. You were going inside the room in slow motion. His quick steps towards you and your quiet sobs were the only thing that could be heard beside the rain outside. With force now you were now inside the room and the door was closed shut behind you, but the shocking part was a sound of thud next to the console table and couple arms embracing you. His hand was encircling your waist and pressing your body into his further, not letting you go from his grasp.

His one hand now going upwards while caressing where he could reach, he held your chin and lifted it to meet your face now that was wet with tears. Why he always had to look like a madman when you were around?

"You have no idea what you do to me, don't you?"

His tone was cold, so was his eyes. Now you looking up to him with your doe eyes and the hitching of your breath with your sobs was a sight to see. There was no way he could let another man see you like this. How could he? He would break any hand that could reach to you and make them drown in their own blood.

"My love..."

He tucked your hair behind your ear, exposing your neck to him. He lowered his head to your neck, breathed in your scent gently and pressed a kiss to your pulse.

"My heart..."

You could hear your heartbeat. He moved slowly towards your ear.

"Don't worry your pretty head over everything. I will get all of it figured out for you."

Like he wasn't the main cause of all of this. Was he asking for forgiveness now? A loud sob escaped your lips.

" 'm tired" of you

His hair touching the side of your face and his voice near your ear made you feel weak in your legs.

"I know"

He let go of your chin and held your wrist, guiding your arm as you turned your face to him. Now that your face was turned to him, he could take a look at you properly. He missed your warmth, your gentle demeanor, and you. His hand moved from your wrist to your hand, guiding it to his lips before kissing the palm of your hand. His other hand found your waist and pressed your lower body against his again. Your free hand gripped the front of his suit. Your sobs are now louder. He was waiting, waiting for a hint for your forgiveness and acceptance. He wasn't going to force himself onto you; he wasn't a sinful man like that.

"If you allow me, my love, I will make it all work between us."

You were shocked and speechless. Was he really asking you to accept him back into your life? It was still raining outside; the room was nothing but ordinary—a king-sized bed with breathtaking scenery outside.

"Don't you see, sweetheart? All of it was just for you today. Put your trust in me once more, as you always do, and don't think anything else."

You knew better than anyone else that whenever he talked and promised something to you he would always kept them because well, you are his little sweetheart. Aren't you?

"You are still in my heart and always on my mind. You are no good for me. I know that too, but why I can't just let all of it go—"

With a swift motion, Fyodor leads you inside and toward the wall by releasing his grip on your wrist and putting his other hand behind your back to quickly wrap around your waist. He pressed your back completely to the wall while pressing his whole body into yours. And he kissed you feverishly, rough with a sense of claiming. Your head was spinning. He kissed, sucked, and bit your lower lip. It felt so good that you were falling apart under his touch. So you held him like your life depended on him, you held his neck, deepened the kiss, and leaned to him more with desperation.

You were running out of breath but couldn't stop kissing him. You returned his kiss with the same desire. You could feel heat building up in your stomach. A moan vibrated through your throat. His palm found the back of your thigh, grasped it, and lifted it to press further into you as he slowly rubbed his groin into yours. A groan escaped his lips. His hand rose higher and higher until it reached the hem of your dress and up to the curve of your ass and caressed, squeezed it with force. When you two pull away from each other, there was a string of saliva connecting you two. His body felt warm against yours.

He was going to make up to you in every way possible. He was going to worship your body tonight, just as he did every day when he got down on his knees to pray to God. You looked stunning like that, his angel, your hair a little tangled, your eyes hazy and filled with desire. Your lips briefly connected again, and he encouraged you to part them so that his tongue could enter and explore your mouth. Not feeling his skin under your touch was unbearable, so you started to loosen his tie and pull him more while your other hand tried to unbutton his vest and shirt. He smirked against your lips before parting for a second.

"Eager, are we?"

You blushed and glanced away from him just to meet his eyes a second later while slightly nodding.

"Mmph"

Fyodor cursed quietly in his native language. You were just so his and obedient it made his dick twitch in his pants. He pecked your lips again and began sucking on the skin of your neck, opening the zip in the back of your dress and causing it to fall to the floor. You wrapped your hand around his neck and massaged his head while breathing deeply. Quiet moans escaped your lips and it only made the bulge in his pants bigger.

His lips on your neck leaving marks, an evident sign that you were his, and licking just to bite after to make you whimper was delightful to his ears. Fyodor began to lead you to bed, holding you impossibly close to his body. The back of your leg hit the edge of the bed, and he laid you gently on it, his eyes dark with a glint of lust, he was nearly fully clothed, he looked at you with pure hunger while you were only in your underwear and bra.

"Myshka, you only wore that dress just to drive me mad with temptation, didn't you? Oh darling, even when you are not aware of it, your mind desires to please me."

That dress was his anniversary present to you; you never got to wear it, though, due to circumstances you don't want to remember right now. Maybe you picked that dress unknowingly or maybe on purpose. Who knows? He began unbuttoning the remaining buttons while looking down at you. Your panties were getting wetter by the second under his gaze.

"So now tell me."

He slowly took off his vent and tossed it aside while maintaining eye contact.

"Did any man lay their hands on you while you weren't by my side?"

He was teasing you; you knew it, and he knew it well too. You couldn't just let any man touch you, no.

"Took of your bra."

So your hands moved to your back to remove your bra. He was staring at you intensely, his hands on the sides of your thighs, stroking them gently. When you took it off, he let out a pleasant hum. When your hands reached the ends of your panties, he stopped you with his voice.

"Keep them on, darling."

Fyodor began to unbutton his shirt and tossed it aside. His pale, lean, yet muscular skin was visible. The bulge in his pants is evident to your eyes. He leaned in while putting his body between your legs, parting them further.

"My eyes are up here pretty."

He loved teasing you and making you a blushing mess.

"Now tell me, did they touch you here?"

He kissed your clavicle tenderly and bit just to get a reaction out of you. A gasp escaped you.

"N-no" He licked it and continued to leave kisses alongside your breast, just to stop and look into your needy eyes once again. He leaned in and bit your earlobe before whispering into your ear.

"How about here?"

His hand cupped your breast and gave it a light squeeze. A sigh escaped you.

"N-never"

A hum vibrated through your ear.

"Yeah, just like that, keep being my good girl."

He leaned to take your nipple inside his mouth and giving it a light suck, his hot tongue was sucking the bud while playing with your other nipple, rolling it between his fingers to not neglect it.

He left marks there too. Your moans grew louder; your hand grabbed and tugged his dark hair, earning a growl from him. He continued kissing your skin down to your belly, your back arching into his touch. Your underwear was damp with your wetness, and your pussy was aching with the desire to be filled. Fyodor kept you steady with his hands to stop you from closing your legs against his body.

"Myshka, behave" It was impossible since it had been so long since you felt this way.

"'M sorry."

He lowered himself to lick a long strand of your clothed heatness. Your breathing quickened, and your hand closed your mouth to muffle your moans.

Fyodor looked up to you and sucked the fabric and started to push his tongue against your clit earning more whines from you. God, you were beautiful and all his to ruin. He could feel your hole twitching and your panty getting soaked with your juices.

His hand found the hem of your panties and waited for you to look at him.

"Then what about here, darling?"

You were desperate and craving for him; your answer didn't disappoint him.

"N-no Fyodor, never!"

His name spilling out of your mouth so deliciously made his member twitch in anticipation. So before he took it off, he prevented you from closing your mouth by taking one of your hands into his.

Then he took it off in one smooth movement, your juices glistening, your hole twitching with want, he hummed and buried himself between your legs, licking and kissing your pussy with fever. His nose bumping against your clit made you moan loudly. His face between your heat, his tongue working skillfully to tease your nerve endings, his lips kissing and slurping your arousal with sinful noises were starting to get you to the edge. Your free hand gripped his hair to make him go faster.

"A-ahh"

His other hand, keeping you down, opened your thighs even more. Your sounds only made his pants tighter. Fyodor started to move faster; your taste only made him hungrier; his hand on your thigh now started to caress your walls to find the spot that made you see stars. He began stretching you by adding a second finger, while his tongue lapped at your wet folds. He stretched you with his fingers, and he couldn't help but let a moan escape. All sensations were becoming overwhelming, and Fyodor felt your walls clench around his fingers.

"M-mh n-nnagh F-Fyo I-I'm-"

He knew you were close, so he found the spot that made you weak, bent, and rubbed his fingers to stimulate it continuously. You pulled his hair harder and desperately tried to move your hips against his face with need. You heard him groan; he added another finger, and you were beyond gone, cumming andcrushing down while moaning loudly. Your body squirmed as he helped you ride out your orgasm. You felt dizzy and gasped for air as your juices dripped down his chin. The sight was filthy and hot at the same time. He gathered your juices in his fingers, sucked on them with lust, and looked deeply into your eyes. The sight caused you to moan again.

"You taste divine, my dear."

Then he started kissing you with the same lust, tasting yourself on his tongue made you squirm again. Your hands caressed his back and you kissed him back. He lowered his groin and pressed it into your wet pussy, making you whimper into his mouth while grinding his rock hard member against you. He placed his hands on your hips to make you grind against him harder, earning a muffled moan from you. The heat pooling in your stomach once again, making the front of his pants wet with your juices, you hear him moan into your lips. Fyodor moves away from you, his belt clinking. He looks at you like he's about to devour you whole.

So you accept him once again. He takes his pants off alongside his boxers, revealing his cock, his tip dripping with precum. First, he makes you comfortable on the bed and puts your legs to his sides, revealing your pussy to him more, his behavior turning you on more and more. Your sight sends shivers down his spine, and he has to restrain himself from taking you right here and there. Your sweaty form, lustful eyes, and eagerness are only fueling the fire. He pulls you closer to him, making your legs wrap around his waist. He strokes himself a few times before looking back at you. Your walls are clenching around nothing and feeling empty.

He uses his tip to gather around your fluids to lubricate his dick then slowly circling your entrance with it while pulling cute noises from you.

"F-fyodor, please don't tease me anymore."

He chuckles coldly.

"What happened to Oh, Mr. Dostoevsky, hmm?"

He slowly pushes himself. A gasp leaves you, your walls sucking him in for more, leaving Fyodor nearly breathless, he growls.

"Mmph- Aah-ah—that—you know why."

He's halfway through, and your warmth is already intoxicating.

"Well do I?"

He was not foolish or sinful like those around him. He had a greater purpose. But now he was kneeling and worshipping your body. Maybe loving someone only led to sin in the best ways possible. You couldn't let him go; you know it is toxic. But damnit, he lets it happen. He spoiled you too much, didn't he? Now he can't predict anything—any emotions, to be precise. These are his feelings, but he is unable to understand or rationalize them. It irritates him if he can't control it or twist it to his liking. Oh, God, help his pure soul. He pushes himself all the way in one go, taking you by surprise with a whimper. Leaning down into you, he pushes you down into missionary, his elbows on the sides of your head, slowly pulling his cock in and out of you as your moans got louder.

He is in no better shape, but he was trying not to show it while gasping for air. Your gummy walls squeezing him tight and already milking him, your whines close to his ear making it hard for him to keep his composure. He starts moving faster, hitting your G spot along the way. Your hands on his back, scratching his pale skin, and your legs pulling him closer only feeding his possession more. He gazes into your eyes, thrusting faster and rougher. Your eyes were cloudy just like the weather and now they were tearing up, but this time with pleasure. You look back at him, your resentful eyes only turning him on more.

Oh, how he loves those eyes of yours. Picking up the pace, he leans in and puts more weight on you. While panting for more air, he thrusts one more time and places his lips near your chin and whispers:

"Myshka isn't my side of the bed cold? Don't you want me to come back to you?"

Your legs tightening and trembling around him, you couldn't see his face but only could hear the squelching sounds from where you two were connected and your moans with the sound of rain. A white ring was forming in the base of his cock while you were meeting his thrust feverently. As he sinks deeper into you, you could feel your climax approaching. Your mind clouded with pleasure, you answer him.

"Fuck Fedya, yes!"

Yes, yes, yes, call him like that again and fuck yes, he will destroy the world if you want. Yes, he will buy you a house fuck even with the one with a lake. Then again, he will fuck you as much as you want him to. Who exactly is he fooling? He is yours eternally, just as you are his for a lifetime. God must have been playing games with his mind. Oh, your eyes and how they look under the moonlight. Oh, how he likes it even more when they get all shimmery with tears all because of him. Since he is the only one who can bring heaven to you with such pleasure. All his, all fucking his.

That nickname, his name, coming out of your mouth only makes his dick harder and balls tighter. Chasing his own high with you, he speeds up and places his thumb on your clit, playing with it to push you over the edge. Thick tears making their way down to your face to his hair. He raises his head and with his thick Russian accent, he curses between his teeth once again.

"I gave you what you have wanted, didn't I, darling? So why are you crying right now? How petty."

Such simple and heartbreaking words coming out of his mouth as if he isn't the one who is actually acting petty. How laughable isn't it? But he can't let you see him this vulnerable. The knot in your lower belly threatening to snap anytime makes you desperate for your own release.

"You gotta use your words, pretty."

"I-I'm- aghhh- I'm coming."

Your toes curling, juices drenching the sheets, holding him close with your legs, your climax washes over your body once again. Your gummy walls clamping down on his shaft and welcoming him once more. He groans and pushes you into the mating press and chases his own high. He captures your lips once again and gives you a deep but sloppy kiss while pushing your legs more apart. If he fucks a baby into you, you wouldn't try to run away, right? Since you would carry the obvious sign that you belonged to him. So those trashy guys won't dare to lay their filthy hands on you ever again.

If they do, he will erase them from existence. He moans to your lips, the thought of you carrying his child, with full of his seed, pushing him over the edge as he thrusts again, spilling thick robs of cum inside you, his eyes rolling back. He pushes his dick deeper into you, ensuring that nothing goes to waste. You whimper and kiss him back as tears fall once more, this time from overstimulation. When he recovers from his high, he pulls his dick out and rolls to the side.

Gently pulling you into a hug to his chest, facing him, you hug him back and kiss his Adam's apple softly. You felt tired and sleepy; for a few minutes, you two just stayed like that.

"So Mrs. Dostoevsky want me to draw a warm bath for you?"

You were flushed and slowly drifting off to sleep. The only thing you could mutter was a quiet "mmhm" and a slight tilt of your head.

Rain was still hitting the windows, as if it was trying to sing you a lullaby. The last thing you heard before falling asleep was a faint chuckle, followed by a couple of arms wrapping around your body, enveloping you in a familiar warmth.

Well, you were gonna come back to him one way or another. He knew that; he was sure of it, of course, since he is smart, right? When you come back to him and accept his vulnerability, once again he will let it happen because you are his. He can't predict what will happen in the future with you because God must have created such a bond that even after everything, you are still drawn to him, and he will always accept his pure girl to his hell and cherish ruin his angel. He can't create heaven nor go to one, but he will do everything to bring one to you.

But now Fyodor wasn't sleeping, but rather watching how your little body was wrapped around his—all vulnerable and untainted—to his liking, of course. He squeezed your body slightly in a possessive manner, pressing his body deeper into yours. He will make all the ways back to him for you. He was going to make it happen. So you could return to him. Because you're his innocent wife. How foolish of you to believe that a simple piece of paper could end your relationship with him. He was certain that God created you specifically for him to hold, caress, and breed. Everything happened only so you could return to where you belong, as God intended.

A few disagreements aren't the problem when you are in his arms like this, being all beautiful and innocent. How pure and filthy, how separating and unifying. Even God had his favorites, so it is normal that you also have a little privilege for yourself. How magnificent, right?

Because you are still his, and always will be. He will make sure of it.

Taglist: @sssarrrra @fyology @literatureloverx

So just for you guys to know I’ve never touched a man in my life. I didn't even feel anything romantic towards someone but here I am writing fanfiction about a death author dude who is probably +500 years old in an anime and I'm calling him bbg and the love of my life. Huh 😮‍💨 life is really full of surprises. It was my first time writing smut so please be nice I tried my best okay? 🥺🙏 Also English is not my first language so if there are any grammatical mistakes forgive this pookie (me🥺). Hope you like it tho. Comments, reblogs are greatly appreciated 💜

[jobean12-blog]

You and Me

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: ~600

Summary: It's just you and Joel...living in every moment you have.

Author's Note: I'm in my feels today and I heard the song "You and Me" by Lifehouse today and I've been thinking about the premiere of TLOU 2 tonight and I just don't know...I mean I know...but I don't. I'M FINE!...ugh. It's just a small blurb. Anyway, come feel stuff with me. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divide by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: There's a joke in here! And cookies! And softness but it definitely has an angsty feel-which is just mirroring my own feels.

💕PS NO spoilers obviously...

The streets are quiet as night approaches. Everyone is already locked up inside the promising safety of their houses.

You reach the edge of town and climb the ladder at the wall, careful with your footing, and when you reach the top you see him sitting on the small defensive outpost, only the shadows cast from the dying afternoon light surrounding him.

Step by quiet step, you make your way toward him, balancing the small paper plate in your hand and willing the wind not to rip it free.

“What are you doin’ out here darlin’?” he asks, his gaze focused on the expanse of land below.

You set the plate down and sit next to him.

“I made cookies.”

He glances at the cookies, then leans in and brushes his mouth over yours before grabbing one.

“Thank you.”

The cold seeps into your clothes and you note the heavy gray clouds moving in from the west.

“It’s already snowing over the mountains,” you say quietly. “I bet we get at least eight inches tonight.”

“Maybe more if you’re good.” The corners of his lips lift as he brings the cookie to his mouth.

“Did you just…make a joke? A dick joke?”

“You’re talkin’ about the weather,” he counters, taking a bite then holding it up to your mouth.

“Just thought you might want to talk about something…normal.”

You take the offered bite then watch him take another. A long moment passes before you rise to the challenge in his eyes and ask, “What are you out here thinking about?”

He’s quiet for so long the first flakes of snow start to descend, and you move the cookies out of the way to scoot closer to him, pressing yourself against his side.

“I’m scared.” His admission is all but a whisper and you tuck yourself closer.

He lifts his arm and curls it around you, the scruff on his jaw thick with days of unkempt growth and the coldness of his beard tickling your skin as he buries his face in your neck and breathes deeply.

You give him no reply because there isn’t one and when the cold finally chills you to your bones you both retreat, leaving whatever the future holds behind you as best you can.

The house is warm despite the chill still clinging to your body and when you come out of the bathroom to find him already in bed and waiting, it takes all your resolve not to throw yourself toward him.

He’s moved your discarded book to the nightstand, holding your page with one of his small knives. The thoughtfulness of his gesture makes a small smile play upon your lips.

He pulls the covers on your side away and holds them up.

“Are you okay?”

“I am now.” His voice softens to the tone he only ever uses with you, weakening your knees as he hovers over you and lowers his mouth to yours.

It’s a slow and gentle kiss but even so it heats you from the inside out and when he deepens the pressure you sigh into it, letting the rest of the world disintegrate around you.

Hours later, warm and sated, you lie awake in bed, the brightness of the blanket of snow outside the window making the walls in the room glow.

When you feel him shift and reach out you curl your body around his, and his arm wraps around your back and pulls you closer in a way that can only be described as instinctive, like he’ll be doing it for the next hundred years. You settle against his warmth and lay your head on his chest, above the most comforting sound in the world, his heartbeat.

[diejager]

how does a (monster AU) phoenix! reader sound? ...I kinda imagine 141 (except price) getting a heart attack when reader takes a bullet and bursts into flames and then a heap of ash, and then (im pulling a harry potter description of pheonix but its ur choice) the most ugly bird or something pokes their head out of the ashes and they're like '...oh'.

I remember watching Fawkes burning and turning to ash before he popped his head out. So adorable.

Ashes Cw: burning, death, rebirth, tell me if I missed any.

Ghost knew when someone was lying, able to sniff out a liar within a mile. Your dimmer smile, shorter laughter and exhaiusted expression, nothing seemed to make your days better than a warm bump of tea once or twice a day to sooth the ache in your bones and the strain in your muscles. He’d approach you with a clear mind, wanting to get to the bottom of your sickness, why you’d occasionally cough, voice weak and breathy until it cracked. You told him you were fine, that it was just the weather affecting you, but he’d seen this kind of sickness before, a cold that sunk into the bones and clogged every sinuses with intent —sick and vulnerable.

He wasn’t alone in this thought, Alejandro and Gaz shared similar doubts, coming forth to Price with their fears rather than sneaking around like he did, but Price had waved them off, telling them that it was a seasonal thing, you got sick from time to time and rose back from it as if death failed to catch you. This did not seem like something simple and mundane, Ghost could see death follow you like it followed him, it was ever present, so much so that Alejandro and Horangi - the two with the weakest nose out of the four - could smell it ooze off you like a dark miasma plaguing your body.

It seemed as if the both of you shared something that the others weren’t privy to, a low whisper in the dark that they failed to catch or the secret you shared through confidentiality higher than even a colonel. The captain knew you before you joined them, forming a tight connection through past trauma and fuck ups. Perhaps that’s why Price seemed almost chipper about your saddening state.

It seemed that Ghost was kept in as much darkness as the rest, the higher ups had kept it hidden from him, from König and from Alejandro who should’ve had the jurisdiction to have access to your documents. Especially after seeing you burst into flames after being shot in the neck by a surviving sniper (Ghost was quick to shoot him down), body gone in a coud of ash and dusted feathers. He panicked, but he wasn’t the only one to rush towards what remained of you. Despite their panicked mumbles and frantic thoughts, Price had reassured them that it was normal, that you were still alive —all they had to do was wait a few seconds for you to reappear.

Appear you did, a small, ashen head, beak the length of a child’s thumb, small ad brittle, big, rounded eyes blinked at them, narrowed in confusion until you called, a tiny croon from a chick’s throat. You shuffled your way through the mess, featherless wings flapping as you hopped towards Price, who quickly met you half way, picking you up with one nimble swoop.

“Look at you,” Price cooed, pressing his thumb to your forehead, feeling the soft, newly grown feathers that glowed white, “About time you burned, yeah?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” it was the only thing he could answer with when his mind was building up these theories, every little thought in his head went to understand what and how you were made. It was as close as Soap’s Steamin’ bloody Jesus or König’s dumbfounded Was.

“Is that why you told us not to worry, Captain?” Gaz’s ability to think clearly in adrenaline-inducing moments was a blessing, able to restrain his unending thoughts to connect two together and conjure up a sentence - a few words, a mumble or a plea - to understand whatever happened to you. “What happened?”

Price let out a deep rumble, a laugh from his belly, deep and amused, a striking contrast to their worried frowns. He handled you softly, petting and pinching at the young feathers growing on you while he turned you around, showing them how Price held you with such careful ease and soothing smile. Ghost doubted that Price didn’t have any prior experience in caring for you, seeing how loving he was with you —like a lover caring for his sickened, or a dragon guarding his treasure, Ghost wasn’t sure which one was right.

“Hunter’s a phoenix, “ he smiled softly, eyes gleaming with too much glee, a silent laugh at their sudden bewilderment, approaching you slowly to admire you themselves. “They burst to flames every three years or so, the last one was around five years ago- long overdue for a reset.”

Soap and Horangi were the first to attempt to touch you, the excited dog and the curious feline, tentatively poking at you with a finger until you pecked it, annoyed by their incessant jabbing. You let out a shrill cry from your throat, small and hilariously fierce for something so small and fragile. You crawled to the ends of Price’s fingers, wings flapping to urge them to pick you up instead of pointing a finger and cooing at you as if you were an exotic animal. You somewhat were —exotic, that is.

“A wee thang, aye, Cap?” Soap awed, cradling you in his palms, you weighted so little, as light as a feather on Gaz’s wing.

“Ugly as a rat too,” Horangi snickered, making light of the situation that had made their hearts stop.

You screeched, shaking your head wildly at him, his shoulders bobbing while you showed how offended you felt by acting out, an angry, little chick putting on a show of aggression and courage. His dark thoughts receded, Ghost’s fears and demons falling back into the depths of his mind when his eyes met your beady ones, round and doe-eyed, your age shining through the innocence of a newly-hatched. It made him wonder how you’d look once your feathers grew out, would you be as majestic as the stories portrayed phoenix did, with your great wings and great strength, feathers bathed in the sun’s warm embrace and tipped with the power of undying flames of power. Phoenixes were seen as symbols of immortality, resurrection —of life and death. Untouchable by death and favoured by life, you would live in a cycle of ashes and flames, embers cracking until it softened to flickers, a soft, gentle flame ready to yield to nature.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143

[octaneink]

Food Market Dates

Will Lenney x Fem!Reader

Summary : A totally cute, innocent date at the market where they try out new foods Warnings: Implied sexual themes towards the end and a discussion about pineapple being on pizza Notes: I am sorry gang idk what happened to me when I was writing this. It was like I was possessed, mostly for that part at the end.

The train rattled along the tracks, the dreary UK weather outside the window a mix of grey skies and the occasional drizzle. Will sat next to you, his long legs stretched out into the aisle, his hand resting comfortably in yours. His thumb traced lazy circles over your knuckles, a small, absentminded gesture that made your stomach flutter. He was scrolling through his phone with his free hand, the faint sound of whatever video he was watching barely audible over the hum of the train.

You, on the other hand, were engrossed in a book—paperback you’d picked up at the station earlier. It was one of those novels you loved, the kind that end up with a dog-eared cover and pages that smelt faintly of coffee. You were halfway through a particularly juicy scene when Will suddenly squeezed your hand, pulling your attention away from the page.

"You know what I’m most excited about today?" he asked, his voice breaking the quiet hum of the train.

You looked up, marking your page with a finger. "What? Finally admitting that I have impeccable taste in food?"

He snorted, shaking his head. "Impeccable taste? That’s a stretch. Remember the time you tried to convince me that pineapple belongs on pizza?"

"Because it does!"

"Because you’re wrong," he shot back, grinning.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "Fine. So what are you most excited about, then?"

He leaned back in his seat, his hand still warm in yours. "The food, obviously. But also… just this. You, me, no plans, no stress. Just a normal, chill day. No arguments about pizza toppings, no you stealing the last bite of dessert—"

"Hey, that was one time!"

"—and no me having to remind you that pineapple is a crime against pizza," he finished, his grin widening.

You nudged him with your shoulder, laughing softly. "Well, for the record, I’m excited too. Even if you do have terrible opinions about food."

"Oi, my opinions are flawless," he said, though the twinkle in his eyes suggested he knew exactly how flawed they were.

You shook your head, leaning into him slightly. The train swayed gently, and you let your eyes drift back to the window, watching the grey landscape blur past. Will’s hand tightened around yours, a silent reassurance that pulled your attention back to him.

"So," he said, his tone light and teasing, "what’s the first thing we’re getting at the market? And don’t say something weird like… I don’t know, candied eels."

You laughed, the sound soft and warm in the quiet carriage. "I was thinking skewers. Or maybe that tea place we saw last time. You know, the one with the really colourful drinks?"

"Ah, the one you made me try even though I said I didn’t like boba?"

"You loved it!"

"I tolerated it," he corrected, though the smile on his face betrayed him.

"Sure you did," you said, rolling your eyes. "And I’m sure you’ll tolerate it again today."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, and you felt his thumb brush over your knuckles again. "Fine. But only because you’re cute when you’re smug."

You shook your head, laughing softly, and let your gaze drift back to the window, the train rattled on, the rhythm of the tracks steady and comforting.

The market was a riot of colours and sounds—stalls draped in vibrant fabrics, the sharp hiss of oil hitting a hot griddle, and vendors’ voices rising above the hum of the crowd. The air was thick with the mingling scents of spices, sweet sauces, and the occasional waft of fresh herbs. Will walked beside you, his hand brushing yours every so often, his touch light but deliberate, as if he couldn’t quite resist the pull to be closer. The two of you wandered through the bustling aisles, the smell of freshly steamed dough and savoury fillings drawing you toward a stall selling bao buns.

You stopped in front of the stall, the golden, fluffy buns piled high on the griddle, their tops glistening under the soft glow of the stall’s lights. You pointed at the pork-filled ones, turning to Will with a grin. "Can we get these?"

He nodded, already pulling out his wallet. "Anything for you," he said, handing over the cash to the vendor with a quick smile. His voice was soft, almost tender, and it sent a little shiver down your spine. Turning to you, he added, “But don’t let it go to your head.”

You rolled your eyes, but the way his lips quirked into a smile made it hard to stay annoyed. There was something about the way he looked at you—like you were the only person in the entire market—that made your heart skip a beat.

The vendor handed you a paper tray with two fluffy bao, the steam rising in delicate curls. Will leaned in, his shoulder brushing yours as he studied the buns. "Alright, let’s see if these are as good as they look," you said, picking one up and blowing on it gently before taking the first bite.

The rich, savoury filling hit your tongue, the flavours of tender pork, sweet hoisin, and a hint of ginger mingling perfectly. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, a small, contented hum escaping you. When you opened your eyes, Will was watching you, his gaze soft and intent, as if he were memorising the way your face lit up.

"That good, huh?" He asked, his voice low and warm, like the first sip of tea on a cold morning.

You nodded, carefully breaking off a piece of the bao, making sure to get a bit of the tender pork, the sweet hoisin, and a hint of ginger in one perfect bite. Holding it out to him, you grinned. "Your turn."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your fingers as he took a bite. His eyes widened as he chewed, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face. "Alright, that’s incredible. Another one."

You laughed, breaking off another piece and holding it out to him. He took it from your fingers, his lips grazing your skin again, and this time, you felt the warmth of his breath against your hand. The simple act felt strangely intimate, and you couldn’t help the way your pulse quickened.

The two of you went back and forth, sharing the bao bun between you—breaking off pieces, you feeding Will, and laughing as you tried to avoid getting sauce on your hands. The warmth of the buns contrasted with the crisp autumn air, but it was nothing compared to the warmth spreading through your chest every time Will’s fingers brushed yours or his eyes met yours with that soft, knowing look.

By the time the bao was almost gone, you held up the last bite, raising an eyebrow at Will. "Final piece. Who gets it?"

He grinned, his eyes locking onto yours as he leaned in. His lips grazed your fingers again, lingering just a fraction longer than necessary as he took the bite. "Cheers, love," he said, his voice low and teasing, the endearment slipping out so naturally it made your breath catch.

Your fingers froze midair, the warmth of his lips lingering on your skin. You quickly looked away, pretending to fuss with the napkin, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. Will caught your reaction—the way your eyes flickered, the slight smile you tried to hide, the way your fingers lingered in the air for a second too long. He didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a knowing smirk.

Before you could recover, he leaned in again, this time pressing a quick, soft peck to your lips. You blinked, startled, but before you could say anything, he pulled back slightly, his tongue darting out to lick his own lower lip. "Sorry," he said, his voice teasing, "you had a bit of sauce there."

You stared at him, your face burning. "There was no sauce," you protested, licking your lips.

He shrugged, his smirk widening as he followed your lips. "Could’ve sworn there was. Ah well, there's none now. You're welcome, by the way."

You shook your head, laughing softly to cover your fluster. Will glanced around the stall, taking in the steam rising from the griddle and the vibrant colours of the surrounding market. "Alright," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "What’s next?"

You and Will wandered through the aisles, the vibrant colours of the stalls and the chatter of vendors creating a lively backdrop. You had just left the bao stand, the taste of the fluffy buns still lingering on your tongue. Will walked beside you, his arm brushing against yours as you navigated the busy aisles. His hand occasionally grazed yours, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that felt deliberate, like he was testing the waters, seeing how close he could get without fully taking your hand. Each touch sent a little spark through you, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

"So," he said, glancing down at you with a grin, "what’s next? You’re the food expert here."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I’m not an expert. I just like eating."

"Same thing," he replied, his tone teasing. "You’ve got that… vibe. Like you know what’s good."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. "Alright, Mr. Compliments. Let’s see…"

You scanned the stalls as you walked, the two of you weaving through the crowd. The market was a maze of options—sizzling skewers, steaming dumplings, colourful desserts, and more. Will kept pace beside you, his hands in his pockets, but sometimes, he’d bump your shoulder or let his fingers brush against yours, sending little jolts of warmth through you. It was like he couldn’t help himself, and honestly, neither could you.

"Remember that time we tried to make bao buns at home?" he asked suddenly, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. "Don’t remind me. That was a disaster."

"Disaster?" he repeated, laughing. "Mate, we set off the smoke alarm. Twice."

"Yeah, because someone thought it was a good idea to crank the oven up to max," you shot back, grinning.

"Hey, I was following your instructions!"

"You were not!"

The two of you laughed, the memory of flour-covered counters and charred buns still fresh in your minds. Will nudged you with his elbow, his grin widening. "We should try it again sometime. Third time’s the charm, yeah?"

"Only if you promise not to touch the oven," you said, raising an eyebrow.

"Deal," he replied, holding up his hands in mock surrender. His fingers brushed against yours as he lowered them, and you felt the warmth of his touch linger even after he pulled away. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the noise of the market seemed to fade into the background. There was something in his gaze—something soft and unguarded—that made your heart skip a beat.

As you continued walking, the smell of grilled meat caught your attention. You glanced toward a stall selling skewers—yakitori, grilled prawns, and lamb kebabs. The skewers were glistening with a sticky glaze, the aroma irresistible.

"Skewers?" you asked, nodding toward the stall.

Will followed your gaze, his eyes lighting up. "Skewers it is."

You approached the stall, the vendor busy flipping skewers on a hot grill. Will leaned in, his shoulder brushing yours as he studied the options. "Can we try one of each?" you asked, turning to Will.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Greedy today, aren’t we?" He teased, but he was already pulling out his wallet and handing over the cash. His fingers brushed against yours as he handed you the tray, and you felt a little shiver run down your spine.

The vendor handed you a paper tray with the skewers, the smell of charred meat and sweet marinade making your mouth water. Will watched as you picked up the lamb skewer, taking the first bite.

The rich, slightly gamey flavour of the lamb skewer hit your tongue, and you wrinkled your nose, clearly not a fan. You glanced at Will, who was already watching you with that amused glint in his eyes, like he’d been waiting for your reaction.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughed. "Not your thing, huh?"

You shook your head, handing the skewer to him. "Here, you can have it."

He took it without hesitation, biting into it as he kept his gaze on your face. "What’s wrong with it?" he asked, mouth full, his voice muffled but still teasing.

You shrugged, already reaching for the yakitori. "Just not my thing. Too… gamey."

Will chuckled, still chewing. "You’re just using me as a human bin, aren’t you?"

You grinned, taking a bite of the yakitori. The tender chicken, glazed with a sweet soy sauce, was perfect—juicy, flavourful, and exactly what you’d been craving. "Pretty much," you said, your mouth half-full. "But hey, you don’t seem to mind."

He finished the lamb skewer in a few quick bites, licking a bit of sauce from his thumb in a way that was unfairly distracting. "I don’t," he said, his tone light but his eyes lingering on you a beat too long. "But don’t think I won’t remember this next time you’re eyeing my fries."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Noted."

He reached for the grilled prawn next, holding it out to you. "Your turn."

You took a bite, the smoky flavour of the prawn hitting your tongue. It wasn’t bad—grilled to perfection with a hint of chilli and garlic—but it wasn’t your favourite either. You gently pushed the skewer back toward him. "Here, you can have this one too," you said, laughing.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression playful. "Are you sure? These look banging."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I’m sure," you said, though a small part of you wondered if he’d noticed how your pulse quickened when his fingers brushed yours. You took another bite of the yakitori, the savoury flavour grounding you. "I’m sticking with this."

He shrugged, taking a bite of the prawn. His eyes lit up as he chewed. "Alright, you’re missing out. This is delicious."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I’ll take your word for it."

Will reached for the yakitori, taking a small bite. His eyes widened as he chewed, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face. "Okay, you’re right," he said, his voice warm and a little teasing. "This is superb."

You grinned, holding out the skewer to him. "I know, right? Want more?"

He shook his head, pushing it back toward you with a soft smile. "Nah, that one’s yours. I’ve got the prawns."

You smiled, taking another bite of the yakitori as Will glanced around the skewer stall, taking in the sizzling grill and the vibrant display of meats. His eyes lingered on the vendor flipping skewers with practiced ease, the flames from the grill casting a warm glow on his face. For a moment, you just watched him—the way his lips curved into a small smile, the way his shoulders relaxed as he leaned casually against the stall. He looked… happy. Content. And it made your chest feel impossibly warm.

"Right," he said, turning back to you with a grin. "What’s next? Drinks?"

You nodded, finishing the last bite of yakitori and tossing the skewer into a nearby bin. "Drinks sound perfect. But only if you’re paying."

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and you felt his hand brush against yours again as he stepped closer. "You’re relentless, you know that?"

"Yep," you said, grinning up at him. "And you love it."

He didn’t deny it, just shook his head with that same soft smile as he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. "C’mon, then," he said, tugging you gently toward the next stall. "Let’s find something sweet to wash all this down."

As you wandered further into the market, you spotted a stand selling bubble tea. Visual samples of colourful drinks were lined up in tall plastic cups, the boba pearls glistening like little jewels at the bottom. You pulled Will over, studying the menu, your fingers still loosely intertwined with his. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, a small, absentminded gesture that made your stomach flutter.

After a moment, you pointed at the Thai iced tea and the classic milk tea with boba.

Will raised an eyebrow, his smirk playful. "Two drinks? Greedy, aren’t we?"

You smirked back, already reaching for your wallet, but he beat you to it, pulling out his own with a wink. "My treat," he said, handing over the cash before you could protest.

The vendor handed you the drinks, and you immediately took a sip of the Thai iced tea. It was sweet and creamy, the perfect balance of flavours. The rich, spiced tea blended perfectly with the condensed milk, and you couldn’t help but hum in approval, your eyes meeting his, Will was watching you his expression soft and amused.

"That good, huh?" he asked, his voice low and warm.

You nodded, holding out the drink to him. "Your turn."

He took a sip, his eyes widening as the flavours hit his tongue. "Wow," he said, his tone genuinely surprised. "That’s… incredible. Not too sweet."

You laughed, taking the drink back. "Told you."

Next, he reached for the milk tea, taking a cautious sip. The chewy boba pearls rolled into his mouth as he chewed, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Okay, this is amazing too. How do you always know what’s good?"

You grinned, taking a sip of the milk tea yourself. The chewy boba was a pleasant surprise, and you couldn’t help but smile. "It’s a gift," you said, your tone teasing.

Will noticed your reaction, holding out his hand for the milk tea. "Let me try that again."

You handed it to him, and he took another sip, his eyes lighting up as he savoured it. "Yeah, no, this is definitely a winner. You’ve got impeccable taste."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I know."

Then he reached for the Thai iced tea again, taking a longer sip this time. His face lit up even more, a look of pure delight crossing his features. "Okay, wait, this one might be even better. How is that possible?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Of course you like the one I wanted. Typical."

Will grinned, holding the Thai iced tea out of your reach. "Finders keepers."

"Oi!" you protested, trying to grab it back.

He held it high above his head, laughing as you jumped to reach it. "You’re such a child," you said, though you couldn’t stop smiling.

Will finally relented, handing the drink back to you with a smirk. "Alright, alright. You can have it. But only because you’re cute when you pout."

You rolled your eyes, taking the Thai iced tea and taking another sip. Will glanced around the drink stall, taking in the colourful display of drinks, but his hand never left yours. His fingers laced through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world, and you couldn’t help but notice how warm and solid his grip felt.

"Right," he said, turning back to you with a grin. "What’s next? Dessert?"

You nodded, "Dessert sounds perfect."

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and you felt it vibrate through your chest. "You’re relentless, you know that?"

"Yep," you said, grinning up at him. "And you love it."

He didn’t deny it, just shook his head with that same soft smile as he tugged you gently toward the next stall. The market lights flickered on as the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. The air was cooler now, but you barely noticed, too focused on the warmth of his hand in yours and the way his shoulder brushed against yours as you walked.

The dessert stall was a colourful explosion of sweets—mochi, taiyaki, and towering soft serve cones in flavours like matcha, black sesame, and hojicha. You pointed at the matcha soft serve, the vibrant green ice cream swirling into a perfect peak, its colour so vivid it almost glowed under the soft lights of the stall. The earthy aroma of matcha wafted toward you, mingling with the sweet scent of condensed milk. "Can we get one of those?" you asked, turning to Will with a hopeful smile.

Will glanced at the cone, then back at you, his expression softening as he took in the way your eyes lit up. He didn’t say anything at first, just reached for his wallet, his fingers brushing against yours as he pulled it out. You couldn’t help but notice the way his lips curved into a small, private smile.

"If it makes you smile like that, of course," he said, his voice low and warm, like the first sip of tea on a cold morning. He handed over the cash to the vendor, his movements unhurried, as if he were savouring the moment as much as you were.

You and Will moved away from the stall, weaving through the bustling crowd until you found a quieter spot near the edge of the market. It wasn’t much—just a small alcove between two stalls, sheltered from the main flow of foot traffic—but it felt like your own little haven.

Will leaned casually against the wall, his shoulder brushing yours as you stood side by side. The hum of the market was still there, but it felt distant now, like background noise to the quiet moment you were sharing. You held the cone between you, the coolness of the ice cream a sharp contrast to the warmth of his body so close to yours.

"Alright, let’s see if this lives up to the hype," you said, leaning in and gently wrapping your lips around the creamy peak, sucking lightly to pull a bite of the cold, velvety ice cream into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, the soft serve like a whisper of spring—earthy, sweet, and impossibly smooth. The bitterness of the matcha balanced perfectly with the creamy sweetness, and you couldn’t help but let out a small, contented hum.

When you opened your eyes, you caught Will staring at you, his gaze lingering on your lips for a second too long. There was something in his expression—something soft and unguarded—that made your stomach flip.

"Your turn," you said, holding the cone out to him, pretending not to notice the faint flush creeping up your neck.

He blinked, snapping out of whatever thought had momentarily distracted him, and took the cone from you. But instead of taking a bite, he held it carefully in one hand, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft serve was starting to melt slightly, a tiny drip sliding down the side of the cone, but Will didn’t seem to care.

Before you could say anything, he stepped closer, his free hand sliding around your waist to pull you in. "I think I’d rather taste it this way," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

And then he kissed you.

His lips were warm and insistent, capturing yours in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened. You could feel the cool sweetness of the matcha still lingering on your lips, and Will seemed determined to savour every bit of it. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling gently in your hair as he tilted your head just slightly, deepening the kiss.

At first, his tongue brushed against yours tentatively, a slow, teasing exploration that sent shivers down your spine. But then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, the kiss grew more insistent, more passionate. His tongue swept against yours, warm and searching, as if he were trying to memorise the taste of you mixed with the earthy sweetness of the matcha. You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, the fabric of his jumper soft under your fingertips. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, quickening just like yours.

The world around you seemed to fade away—the low chatter of the market, the sizzle of food on grills, the faint hum of music from a nearby stall. All that mattered was the way his lips moved against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, the way his body pressed close, solid and reassuring.

When he finally pulled back, it was only slightly, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath. His blue eyes were dark, his pupils wide and blown with want, his gaze heavy with something that made your stomach flip. It wasn’t just unspoken—it was hunger, pure and undeniable. The way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered at that moment, sent a shiver down your spine.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice rough and a little unsteady, as if he were struggling to keep himself in check. "Definitely starting to see the appeal."

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, where a faint trace of matcha still lingered, and you could feel the slight tremor in his hand. It was as if he were holding himself back, but just barely. The air between you felt charged, electric, and you could see the conflict in his eyes—the way he wanted to kiss you again, to pull you closer, to lose himself in you completely.

"Will," you started, your voice soft, but he shook his head, a small, almost rueful smile tugging at his lips.

"Don’t," he said, his voice low. "If you say my name like that, I’m not going to be able to stop."

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared up at him. There was no mistaking the desire in his eyes, the way his gaze dropped to your lips again, like he was already imagining kissing you a second time. He wanted you—wanted you in a way that was almost overwhelming, and it was written all over his face.

But instead of giving in, he stepped back slightly, his hand sliding from your waist. He glanced down at the cone, as if grounding himself, and let out a soft laugh. "Guess I got a little distracted," he said, his tone lighter now, though his eyes still burnt with that same intensity.

"Just a little," you said, teasing, though your voice was a little breathless. You couldn’t help but notice the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers flexed around the cone, like he was fighting the urge to reach for you again. Before he could say anything, you reached out and gently took the cone from his hand, your fingers brushing against his in the process. The contact sent a little spark through you, and you saw his eyes darken as he watched you.

"Careful," you said, your tone light but your gaze holding his. "You’re going to drop it if you keep getting distracted."

He let out a soft laugh, though it sounded a little strained, and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, you’re not exactly helping," he said. His eyes dropped to your lips again, and you could see the way he was struggling to keep himself in check.

You took a small bite of the ice cream, the cool sweetness a sharp contrast to the heat building between you. Will watched you, his gaze intense, and you couldn’t help but tease him a little. "Want a taste?" you asked, holding the cone out to him, your tone innocent but your eyes playful.

He shook his head, a small, almost rueful smile tugging at his lips. "I already had my taste," he said, his voice dropping lower. "And it’s going to be a problem if I have another."

Your face flushed, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. Will stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours as he reached for the cone. "But since you’re offering…" he said, his tone teasing as he took a small peice, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something in the way he looked at you, something raw and unguarded, that made your pulse quicken and your cheeks burn.

He handed the cone back to you with a smirk, his arm still wrapped around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. "Next time, though," he said, his tone playful but his eyes soft with something deeper, "I’m picking the flavour."

"Deal," you said, leaning into him, the warmth of his body a comforting contrast to the cool evening air. You took another bite of the ice cream, the earthy sweetness of the matcha mingling with the lingering taste of him on your lips. The market buzzed around you, but it felt distant, like the two of you were in your own little world.

Will’s thumb brushed lightly over your hip, his touch sending a shiver through you even through the layers of your clothes. "You know," he said, his voice low and warm, "I think this might be the best date we’ve ever had."

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. "Yeah," you agreed softly. "It’s pretty perfect."

He chuckled, the sound rich and full, and you felt it vibrate through your chest. "Glad you think so," he said, his tone light but his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. "Because I’m not done yet."

"Oh?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, though your voice was a little breathless.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Nope. Not even close."

Your face flushed, but you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. "You’re horrible." you said, though the way your heart raced betrayed how much his words affected you.

Will grinned, pulling you closer as you continued walking through the market. The lights twinkled above, casting a warm glow over the stalls, and the scent of spices and sweets filled the air. His hand never left yours, his fingers laced through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

As you strolled, the sounds of the market fading into the background, you couldn’t help but think that moments like this—simple, sweet, and shared with him—were your favourite kind. Will’s hand in yours, his laughter in your ears, and the promise of more ahead made everything feel just a little bit magical.

😮‍💨 damn. I got carried away with this one… Was that kiss realistic? I've never kissed anyone that wasn't a peck, so I just guessed at what it would be like. Was that okay? Do people have any pointers for writing reasonable make out sessions? 🤭But anyways… I hope people enjoy!

[frenskcup]

having thoughts about...

the past few days have had your back screaming out in agony. but that's nothing your man can't fix. with his own aching body, yelling out for some reprieve, trust that jason has his own arsenal of solutions that he's more than willing to try out on you. anything to help his beloved.

of course you can hog the heated pad for tonight. the drizzle that gotham is accustomed to has upgraded to an absolute downpour that has his own bones aching, so he knows how it is.

did his comparatively larger hand feel nice on your lower back? yeah, he can keep it there – in fact, he'll include the other and massage your back in tandem if that will help the pain.

on one particularly crappy day, you can't control the grunts and winces of pain when you twist a certain way your back can't take. it's the worst it's been since it started a few weeks ago. jason can tell.

not like that's saying much– he's attentive to your every emotion: every tired sigh you don't think too much about in the moment, the stink-eye you give the lady at the bodega for cutting in front of you, the sparkle in your eye when he plants a big one on your cheek as he passes by and you pull him right back to return the action three-fold.

you're on your phone when he comes through the front door and stops in his tracks. it's not uncommon for you to be scrolling through a random app's feed but the position you chose to put yourself is: upside down with your legs outstretched, resting on the wall.

"how's the weather down there?" his question holds a different meaning behind it, unlike his normal quips about the height difference between you two.

"it was good 'til it wasn't," you groan, dropping your phone and slithering off the couch head first. your legs are still planted on the seat of the couch, and the new position makes jason's back hurt looking at you.

you make grabby hands at him, which he feels he cannot legally deny in any circumstance. he squats down to reach your hands, squeezing to make sure you had a good grip on him and were ready for the force of him lifting/pulling.

with a grunt, jason snaps up from his semi-squat position and drags you with him. the amount of force he uses with you has been carefully calibrated over the time you've known each other.

a yelp has his heart in his throat. there's no way he hurt you, right?

"you okay?"

he's quick to put you down and check your shoulders and arms for any acute injuries. the last thing he needs is to hurt you. he'd feel too guilty to touch you again in that way if he did, which would make performing his previous maneuver at your behest difficult.

you're silent as he firmly grabs at places that could have been injured. as jason faces your front, he notices your silence is paired with a very out-of-it expression. he never hit your head on anything, did he?

"baby? you okay–"

"my back."

his eyes widen with concern. you're still standing but...

"did i make it worse?" your eyes focus in on him, now taking in the worry evident on his face.

"i... think you might have popped something." your hand reaches for his to reassure him. "something good, i promise. wasn't expecting that to happen, so it scared me silent, i guess."

he let's out a breath and squeezes your hand, relieved that he didn't cause any more pain.

"i need you to do something for me. and don't try to talk me out of it. this is for science."

"science is only when you write stuff down."

you scoff at him.

"stop quoting myth busters at me, you absolute nerd."

"it seems like i'm being summoned somewhere else." he pretends to check his phone, making sure to rip his hand away from you. "yeah, definitely something significantly more important than whatever "science" you're doing."

"fine. i'm sorry. you're not a nerd." your pause makes jason think you're about to tell him your idea. "you're a huge nerd. like, physically and quantitatively."

his dead stare at you has your facade cracking, a sputtered laugh falling from your lips. you grab at his hands with great difficulty, as he swats at you and tries to stuff them in his jeans.

"okay, okay. you're my huge nerd. better?"

you give up on trying to pull his hands from where he's planted them, instead reaching around his neck to pull him closer to you. you know jason can't stop his hands from grabbing your lower back to pull you even closer, making you grin. you rub your nose to his when he's close enough.

"not at all."

"just– help me out, please?"

you hold his cheeks in your hands, forcing him to look at you as you look at him with puppy dog eyes, a small pout on your lips. he rolls his eyes and you know you got him.

"thank you, jaybird!" you plant a kiss on his cheek with a loud, exaggerated smooching noise.

(back during your first month or two with him, you tried to find out how much moisture on your lips would have him wiping away at his cheek or mouth. turns out, there was no way in hell jason was going to do that. wipe off your kiss? that you specifically gave to him? you're outta your damn mind.)

you get jason to help you scoot the coffee table out of the way for a more spacious floor to work with. you guide him into the spot you envisioned, closing one eye and telling him "a little more to the left".

"okay. i'm gonna cartwheel in front of you." you point at him. "you're gonna catch my legs."

as the son and protege of a detective, the cogs in his head are turning with the instructions you've given him. he never was the fastest at deducing motives or criminal reasoning when he first started, but now he's pretty good with the experience under his belt.

you move quicker than the detective his mind, swinging a leg up and then the other in front of him.

"now pull me up by my legs!" you shout, not currently being able to register how loud you are when the blood is rushing to your head and you're nowhere close to jason's ears that are more than six feet away from your head. "not fast! just enough to stretch me out!"

he's not for sure on whether this will help your back at all, more just going along for the ride at this point. but like the caring boyfriend he is, he grasps both of you legs with his arms and slowly moves you enough so that you're dangling from his hold.

a loud 'pop' sounds out from your spine, causing you to yelp in surprise.

"i'm okay! that was a good pop!" you learned from your last pop to tell him if it hurt. "i think that's all i'm gonna get out of it today. please put me down!"

jason maneuvers you gently to the ground and your feet away from him. your face is flushed from being upside down and you stumble into his chest, both his arms coming to grab you before you fell.

"i'd offer you the same treatment, but..." you wrap your arms around him and can just only get your hands together in an s-grip. "you're too big a nerd."

with a groan, he effortlessly hoists you up underneath your armpits and throws you before catching you. not wanting to risk a fall, you wrap your arms and legs around him quickly. if you had claws, he's sure you'd be stuck on his shirt. not that he'd mind.

"remind me why i let you bully me."

"because... i'll let you lay on me and rub your shoulders and back like you want?"

"you're lucky you know me so well."

and with that, he traps you under the lumpy couch that you swore you'd replace like a few months ago. true to your word, you take your time massaging his tense shoulders and rubbing and scratching his back to let him feel some relief. besides–

"you're my big nerd."

A/N: didn't think this would be so long, but i always like to stretch a bit for waaaay longer than it should. i'm a new jason todd stan as of like, a month ago. so jason might be o.o.c. but i wanted to get this to the masses asap

[spiderb00]

WHITE XMAS, FAM OUT W FRUITCAKE

Jeong Yoonchae X Reader (platonic)  Sophia Laforteza x reader 

“Snow covered all the parts of the place, prebenting Yoonchae from returning home for Christmas. With that in mind, you decided to make sure the youngest girl had an unforgettable Christmas.” 

Genre – fluff    Warnings – none  fruitcake masterlist

fam out masterlist

Now playing – White xmas, by Sabrina Carpenter 

Yoonchae was crying, sobbing in the back seat of the car, the younger girl's head on top of Sophia's legs, as your girlfriend tried to calm her down. You were heartbroken, driving back to the Kats' house, listening to the murmurs of Sophia who tried to calm Yoonchae down.   

The sky darkened and the Christmas lights seemed to get stronger at night, you and Sophia had driven a few minutes to drop off the younger girl at the airport, Yoonchae was excited to visit her parents, taking advantage of the Christmas and New Year holidays to spend some nice time with her family. However, when you arrived at the airport, you were told that the flight from Yoonchae had been canceled ‘cause of the weather, destroying the plans and the heart of little maknae.   

You can see Yoonchae's lip quiver as soon as she heard the news from the airport employee, and it wasn't long before the Korean buried her head in Sophia's shoulder and started crying.   

"Yn, can we please not go to the Kats' house?" Yoonchae asked, lifting her head slightly from Sophia's lap to look at you in the car's rearview mirror.  

"Of course Yoonchip, whatever you want." You said, giving an understanding smile to the younger girl, who just laid her head on your girlfriend's thighs, sniffling and muttering a "Thank you".  

Looking in the rearview mirror again, you have Sophia's vision, the Filipina offers a sad smile to you, who just winks and waves, giving her the confidence that everything will be fine. 

Upon arriving home, Yoonchae goes upstairs to the bedroom, which was designed especially for her, leaving you and Sophia standing in the living room, not knowing what to do to improve the situation. You and the Filipina knew that Yoonchae wanted to see her family more than anything, and now that she couldn't spend the holidays with them, she probably wouldn't have the mood for anything else.   

"Poor girl, she was so anxious to go visit her family." Sophia said, going towards the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of wine, handing it to you then.  

"I know, I feel bad for her. She'll probably be upset until Christmas is over." You say as you open the wine bottle and pour the liquid into the glasses that Sophia took. 

"She really wanted to see her family, baby. It's normal for her to be frustrated." Sophia said, taking a sip of the wine and rubbing her temples.   

"It's not fair that she doesn't have a good Christmas, I want to make it special to her. I mean, I don't want to let her be sad on a date like Christmas." You say, standing behind Sophia, and massaging the woman's shoulders.   

"That's really nice of you, baby. But how would we do that?" Sophia asks, grabbing your hands and turning to face you.   

"I don't know yet, but we'll find our way." You say, making the Filipina smile and kiss your lips calmly.  

"Then let's start planning!" 

You were home alone, it was only two days before Christmas, and you were freaking out. As a chef, you've had many challenges in the kitchen, but none of them compare to learning each of the Kats' favorite dish in less than a week. You obviously already knew how to make Sophia and Yoonchae's favorite dish, but learning how to make typical foods from other countries is always a huge challenge, each dish has a unique peculiarity, and as much as all that enchanted you, it also scared you.  

"I just dropped Yoonchae off at the Kats' house, we have the whole house to ourselves..." Sophia's speech died as soon as she saw you in the kitchen, apron over your blue sweatshirt and hands dirty with food.   

"Wow, you really know how to cheer me up." Sophia continued. 

"Ha ha ha, very funny, Laforteza, but I'm working on something serious here." You say, before turning your gaze to the timer that marked the time of the food in the oven.  

"Wow! Refusing me? This must be serious." Sophia said, while laughing lightly and wrapped her arms around your waist, giving a kiss on your shoulder blade.   

"I'm testing the dishes for Christmas, I decided to make a dish based on the culture of each of the Kats." You say, stirring into another pan.

Hearing this, Sophia let go of her arms from your waist. Missing your girlfriend's warmth, you turned to face the Filipina, seeing the woman's face with a look you couldn't decipher. 

"My love, that's such a beautiful attitude." Sophia said, grabbing the sides of your face and pulling you into a quick kiss.   

"I thought and thought it was cool that all of you felt at home, even if for a simple dish." You say with a shrug.  

 "That's pretty cool, Yn. Come on, I'll help you, you can boss me around, chef!" The Filipina says, saluting while making a funny face.  

"All right, you can put on your apron and wash your hands first." You said, making Sophia do exactly what you said without hesitation.  

"It's hot here, you can cook only in an apron if you want, that would help my field of vision 100%." You said, with a provocative tone.  

"Don't abuse it." Sophia says, turning her head towards you and narrowing her eyes at you.  

"Sorry." Turning around immediately, you think it's best to keep quiet before you have to go back to doing everything yourself.   

Christmas was only one day away, the Kats would soon arrive for dinner, and stay for the sleepover, and on Christmas morning they would open the presents. You had planned everything with Sophia's help, everything was perfect, the decoration of the house was very beautiful, the table was full of food and the house seemed so cozy that you could remember the Christmases you spent with your mother and father when you were a child.  

"Alright, how am I?" Sophia asked.  

The Filipina wore black pants and a Christmas sweater matching yours. Sophia had the brilliant idea of buying matching sweaters for the couples, since the Kats were going to bring their girlfriends for dinner. 

"You look great, baby." You said, running your arms around the waist of the lower woman and pulling her in for a kiss.  

Hearing the doorbell ring, you and Sophia walked away with smiles on their faces, taking quick steps toward the door. When you opened it, you saw Yoonchae in front, a small smile on the Korean's face. Taking a step forward, she hugged you, tightly.  

"Will I get a sweater like yours?" The younger girl asked, raising her head to see you nodding positively, before passing you and going to talk to Sophia, who was behind you. Your gaze followed the younger girl, turning to the door again only when you heard a laugh. 

"What are you wearing, bro?" Manon's girlfriend asked, laughing at you, making Manon roll her eyes.  

"Don't mind her Yn, you and Sophia are super cute." Manon said, hugging you.  

"I'm glad you think that. It was Sophia's idea to buy sweaters for all the couples, so that we could match." You said, raising your eyebrows and looking in the direction of Manon's girlfriend, who had now stopped laughing. "You can take yours with Sophia." You said, giving a sarcastic smile.  

Manon entered the house to greet Sophia and talk about the sweaters, while her girlfriend walked past you, staring at you and raising her middle finger, making you laugh at the girl's childish behavior.  

"Couple sweaters? That's so cool!" Megan said, hugging you quickly before pulling her girlfriend by the wrist into the house.  

"Thank you for inviting us Yn!" It was the only thing the girl had time to say before being dragged by the redhead. 

Laughing lightly at the couple's dynamic, you turned forward again, coming face to face with Daniela and her girlfriend.   

"Cool sweater, Rudolph!" Daniela's girlfriend says, pointing to the reindeer's nose embroidered on the warm fabric. "How much do you get paid to use this?"  

"What, just ‘cause you work saving lives, do you think you don't need to use that?" You answer, messed up with the girl.

"No, I don't need to."   

"But you will!" Daniela says, approaching you and her girlfriend at the right time. "You're cute, Yn." The Latina says, before clinging to her girlfriend's arm.   

"Come on puppy, let's put you in a Christmas sweater." Daniela says, making fun of her girlfriend's face.   

You tried your best to contain your laughter, making Daniela's girlfriend look at you ugly, before giving you the middle finger behind Daniela's back, with this one is two.  

Laughing lightly, you welcomed the last couple.  

"Matching sweaters, huh?!" Lara's girlfriend said, the Indian girl's grip her girlfriend's arm.   

"Sophia's idea, you know I do everything to see you happy." You said, rolling up the sleeves of your sweater and leaving your tattoos on display.  

"You know it's not a bad idea! Matching clothes would definitely let people know we're together." Lara spoke for the first time, you nodding and agreeing with the "genius idea" of the red-haired girl. 

"That would certainly get the message across." You say, pouring more gasoline on the fire.  

"Please don't encourage her." Lara's girlfriend says, making you laugh as she watches them pass you, definitely hearing Lara say something about shopping.   

Denying it with your head, you finally closed the door. This would be a long Christmas. 

It was time to show your work of art to everyone, the food was all on the table and you finally invited everyone to the dining room.   

"Okay, I may have exaggerated, but I thought it would be cool." You say, watching the Kats' reaction to the food on the dinner table.   

The girls quickly recognized the dishes that were on the table, the smell took over the place and the girls began to be very moved by the tribute. All of them were away from home this Christmas, and seeing all that made them feel warm.  

"All right, so here we have a RÖSTI, named after Manon. Sinigang in honor of my future wife. Arroz con pollo in honor of Dani. We also have Butter Chicken for Lara, Poke for Megan and finally Kimchi and Kimbap for Yoonchae." 

When you finally finished explaining, the girls' jaws dropped, you had done all that for them, and that was extremely cute.   

"Yn, that's the cutest thing in the world!" Daniela is the first to speak.  

Without having a chance to answer, you felt a body bumping into yours, looking at a Yoonchae glued to you, you hugged the younger girl tight, smiling at her.   

"Thank you, Yn. I love you!" Yoonchae said, hugging you tighter and making you melt into the hug. The girls looked at you two fondly, happy to have a second family.  

"I love you too, child." You said, hugging Yoonchae tighter.  

"Don't cry, Yn. Nobody wants to see that." Manon's girlfriend said, moaning as she was slapped by her girlfriend.   

SURPRISE!!! Yes, I joined fruitcake with fam out, now I really don't know when I'll have another chapter of Fam out for you guys.

But Fruitcake is officially closed, I had a lot of fun writing this.

oh, before I forget, my special thanks to 6'3 anon, who gave me the idea of reader cooking the foods to honor each of the Kats

xoxo, spider.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

first christmas | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

summary: the first part of the flash back to buddy & monkey's first christmas.

double the trouble masterlist

“Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful,” Jordan sang the song lyrics aloud as you were forced into a shopping trip with Leah and Jordan, and a 7 month old Buddy, who seemed most fascinated in the lights and decorations draped around the shop, “Since we’ve no place to go. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”

“I’m bored,” You felt like you’d already voiced your opinion a few times, but both the older girls seemed too distracted by the Christmas decorations to notice your disinterest in the shopping experience, “How much longer do we gotta be here for?”

Christmas was known to be a festive time, it was supposed to be filled with magical memories and joyous fun, however for you, the past had always been the complete opposite.

Growing up, all you’ve ever known is a bleak Christmas day in a cold and mould infested house, with numerous beer cans strewn around while the stale smell of cigarettes lingered in the air.

So your version of Christmas? It was nothing but plain hell.

You knew this year would be different though, of course, in your new home. It’s the only topic Leah’s been talking about since the beginning of November, so you’re confident to think that the blonde is definitely planning to go all out this Christmas.

Which led you to where you are currently standing in the Christmas aisle in a busy shop, and you were growing bored, increasingly fast.

“Why are you all mopey, little one?” Jordan was the first to notice your complete disinterest in the Christmas decorations.

What was so special about these decorations, anyways?

“I’m bored. When can we go home?” You complained one more time, darting your interest to something completely different - Lego, bingo. Now that was fun!

“Got something better to do, huh?” Leah teased as she turned to look at you.

You shrugged your shoulders in response, “I got homework to finish, and a game of Fifa I wanna play as well.”

“Since when do you willingly do homework?” Jordan joked, nudging you playfully with a grin.

“Since, uh, now… I’m bored here, can we please go home?” You all but attempted to plead, you were bored out of your brains right now at that very moment.

Jordan chuckled in amusement and gently patted your shoulder, “Just a bit longer, little one.”

You resisted the urge to throw your head back and groan aloud. Why do people actually like to shop? It’s so… dull.

“I think we might need to get a new tree this year, you know? We’re due a new one, and maybe some decorations to go on it–” Leah rambled on, her excitement for the new tradition this year. “Oh, and the baubles! We need to get new ones’ for both the girls this year,” 

“Whatever you want to do love,  it’s fine with me,” Jordan agreed with the blonde before she turned back around to look at you, “Have you decided what type of advent calendar you want this year, little one?”

You arched your brow in confusion, “What’s an advent calendar?”

“Well, it’s a chocolate in a calendar, pretty much… And look, they even have ones’ that are Shrek themed as well! How cools’ that?”

“I… I don’t get it,” You murmured, still confused about the idea of it.

“During the 24 day run up to Christmas from the 1st of the month, you get to open a window each morning with something behind it, normally chocolate,” Leah took over explaining to you,  “If you don’t want chocolate then there’s other options of what you could get?” She suggested.

“Um, I… I do like chocolate,” You were apprehensive to agree, you did kind of want one but you didn’t want Leah and Jordan to go out of their way and buy you one, “But it’s okay, I don’t need one of them. I’ve never had one before, I don’t need one now.” You told them.

You’ve never needed one before, so why do you need one now?

You never understood the tradition of advent calendars. You were never lucky enough– no scratch that, you never even attempted to ask your dad for one, despite how much the other kids at your school would boast about them.

What was so good about one of them anyways?

Jordan, however, seemed very insistent for you to pick one up though, even with your reluctance to disagree, “Little one, you need to have one. It’s a tradition.”

“No, no, I don’t. I’m fine,” You repeated, shaking your head, “I don’t need one of them.”

“But you have to have one, little one. Oh, what about a sweet one instead? You like them, don’t you?” Jordan’s eyes widened in excitement, pointing her index finger in the direction of one designed with sweets, “I’m pretty sure there’s even a crisp one as well!”

“No, it’s okay. I really don’t want one,” You continued to insist on not wanting a calendar, much to Jordan’s continuous insistence that you needed one.

Jordan shook her head at your response, “Nonsense, I’m not having it– I’m getting you one of them,” Without further words, she proceeded to grab the one with the Shrek design on it and tossed it in the shopping trolley in front of her, “You can’t go without one, not on my watch, little one.” She joked, although you couldn’t help but feel bad about you having it though.

It’s something you weren’t entirely used to, you didn’t know how to react when people brought you stuff.

“Le,” You whined, looking at Leah with a somewhat pleading look with a bit of hope that she would jump in and help you out, “Tell her. Please.”

“Jord, calm down a bit love,” Leah told her girlfriend with a soft tone of voice, sharing a knowing look with her, before she turned back to you, “I think Jords’ just excited for you to have one and share this experience, my girl.” She explained gently.

You shook your head in protest against the idea, “I don’t want one, I don’t need one. Save the money, save it for something else!”

“Little one, it’s not going to break the bank,” Jordan snorted in amusement, failing to see that you were beginning to get worked up over it, “It’s just an advent calendar.”

“I don’t deserve one,” Your bottom lip trembled, your hands began to become shaky and you could feel your breath getting rigid.

Jordan furrowed her eyebrow in confusion, “What’re you talking about? Everyone deserves an advent calendar, little one.”

“I don’t. I’m nothing but a menace, I’ve not been doing well at school… I got into a fight with a kid,” You began to stutter your words, feeling yourself getting upset by such a silly little thing.

“Menace or not, you still deserve an advent calendar, and you’re not going to change my mind on the matter, little one,” Jordan continued to insist, not realising how you’d become a lot more stiff about things.

“I don’t… I don’t want one!” You exclaimed, feeling all the emotions inside you get too much, as Leah and Jordan both pause and look at you in concern, “I… I don’t want one!” You repeated, barely louder than a whisper.

Leah seemed to understand straight away as she gestured for Jordan to watch Buddy before she moved to stand in front of you, “Hey, breathe,” She told you in a calm and gentle tone of voice, “It’s okay, you’re okay. How about me and you go stand outside, and get a bit of air, yeah?”

You nodded hesitantly in agreement, “O… Okay.”

“Alright, come on then, my girl,” Leah murmured, gently wrapping her arm around your waist as she guided you out of the busy shop to stand outside, “Just copy me okay? In and out, in and out…”

You followed her instructions and began to slowly feel the overwhelm start to drift.

“Is that better now?” Leah questioned, genuinely concerned as she rested her hand on your shoulder.

“A bit,” You told her quietly in agreement, “I… I’m sorry for having a meltdown in the shop, I didn’t mean to do that. I… I’m sorry for my outburst.”

“Hey, you don’t need to apologise, alright? It’s okay to feel overwhelmed,” Leah reassured you, pulling you in towards her as she enveloped her arms around you, “If you really don’t want to have an advent calendar either then that’s okay, I think Jord was just getting a bit excited and she wants you to experience the things that you haven’t before…” She held you close, her hands gently rubbing your back as she whispered soothing reassurances.

“I just… I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal,” You murmured, your voice muffled against Leah’s coat, “It’s just chocolate.”

“I know, my girl,” Leah replied softly, using her own nickname for you that comforted you the most, “But well, it’s not really about the chocolate, though. It’s more about the memories that we’re going to make instead. It’s about creating new traditions for you, me, Buddy, and Jords as well.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, processing her words that Leah always had a way of making things sound less daunting, like they weren’t as overwhelming as they felt.

“I don’t wanna waste money though,” You mumbled, still hesitant, “You already plan to spend so much on me, and Buddy as well as Christmas decorations…”

Leah pulled back slightly to look at you with her eyes full of understanding, “Listen to me, my girl,” She said with a gentle firmness, “This isn’t about money, alright? It’s about showing you how much you’re loved, and that you are a part of this family. You deserve nice things, just like Buddy does, and you deserve to feel the magic of Christmas, even if it’s new to you.”

“I… I don’t know what to think,” You admitted, as your bottom lip wobbled again, and you ducked your head, hiding your face. 

Leah cupped your cheeks gently, coaxing you to look at her, “I know it’s hard to accept sometimes,” She said, her voice a whisper, “But Jords and I love you so much, and we want to do this for you. Can you let us? Just this once?”

You hesitated, then gave her a small nod in agreement, “Okay, but only if it’s not too expensive,”

“Atta girl,” Leah smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “It won’t be. I think that Jords’ might be more excited about the fact there’s a Shrek one for you.” She teased, her tone light and affectionate.

You pouted, “Can we go home now?”

Leah laughed, draping an arm around your shoulder as she steered you back inside, “Patience my girl, patience.”

“Yeah, Le’s still got the rest of the aisle to ogle over,” Jordan joked, catching the tail end of the conversation, and exchanged a quick glance with Leah, checking if you were feeling better.

“Urgh, but it’s so boring! They’re all the same, aren’t they? I’m flippin’ bored!” You groaned dramatically, bouncing back to your chaotic self like you hadn’t just had an outburst ten minutes prior to being back in the shop.

Leah chuckled and took over pushing Buddy in her pushchair again, “We won’t be much longer.”

“Ugh,” You huffed, wandering over to a shelf of toys where your curiosity piqued, “What does this do?”

Jordan turned around to see what you were talking about and smiled in amusement, “Press it and find out.”

“Okay then…” You furrowed her eyebrow in confusion, reaching forward and pressing the button as the music blared aloud, and in the process making you jump half a mile, “Jesus– Oh my God. That was scary!” You exclaimed, holding your hand over your heart.

Jordan burst out laughing at your reaction, while Buddy seemed to find great amusement in the music at least, “Made you jump, huh?” She teased.

“Shut up,” You grumbled, though your lips twitched into a reluctant smile, “Do people actually like these things?”

“So, I take it you don’t want one, then?” Leah teased.

“No!” You were quick to exclaim, “Absolutely not. Not a single chance!” You were dead set against the idea of one, even if Buddy seemed to really like the music.

“Are you sure?” Jordan joked.

“I’m positive. Nope, I definitely don’t want one of them!” You insisted, firm on your decision as you were just relieved it stopped playing the music, much to Buddy’s disappointment instead.

Leah pointed to a display of stockings nearby, her eyes lighting up, “Oh, look at these! How adorable are they?” She was in awe over them as she turned to look in Jordan’s direction, “We have to get them. All four of us can match!”

“They’re cute,” Jordan agreed.

“That’s settled then. We’re getting them,” Leah didn’t hesitate to quickly rummage through and find the correct initials for all of you before placing them in the ever-growing shopping trolley, “What do you want for Christmas this year, my girl? You need to start and think, so you can make your list out for Santa.”

You tilted your head, “Santa?”

“Yeah, you know– the man in red and white who brings you presents,” Jordan explained, throwing her arm around your shoulder and steering you in the direction of more Christmas decorations.

You frowned, “Well the kids’ at school talked about him, but he never visited my house– Does he only visit special houses?”

Leah’s smile faltered briefly, “Uh, I think he might’ve been stuck getting in the house.”

“Oh,” You murmured in realisation, “Well, me and this ‘Santa’ have personal beef then.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Leah’s eyes widened and she tried to lean in to Jordan and whisper, “Remind me to hold her back when we take them to visit the grotto,” She was almost certain that you might attempt to try and fight the man.

Jordan snorted, “Noted.”

“I don’t like this Santa fella,” You declared.

“Right then,” Leah began to speak as her gaze softened, “How about you have a think what you would like for Christmas, write it down and then you can give it to one of us instead. How does that sound?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “But I won’t want anything though.”

Jordan frowned, “You have to have presents to open on Christmas day, little one. You can’t not have anything to open.”

“Why? I don’t get it,” Your voice softened, the usual spark dimming as confusion flickered over your face, “It’s never happened before.”

Jordan hesitated, her eyes darting to Leah for help, “Well…because it’s Christmas, and everyone deserves them on this very special day.”

“I… I still don't understand,” You murmured, your voice quieter now, “I’ve never received them before. Why hasn’t he come before? Was I really that bad?”

Leah crouched down in front of you, her gaze steady and full of warmth, “No, Monkey, you weren’t bad. Not even a little bit.”

You frowned, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively, “Then why now? Did I do something to deserve them this year?”

“You don’t need to do something to deserve them, my girl,” Leah reached out, gently taking your hands in hers, “I think Jords’ might’ve worded that a bit wrong.”

“Yeah,” Jordan admitted, stretching the back of her neck awkwardly and unsure what exactly to say next in case she messed up again, “Sorry, little one.”

You looked between them, still uncertain about a lot of things, “Oh.. Okay then.”

Leah’s lips quirked into a playful smile, “It’s just nice to receive them from Santa, you know? This year we’ll leave out milk and cookies for him, maybe even a carrot for Rudolph, and then when you’re asleep, he’ll come and pay a visit. So when we wake up on Christmas morning there’ll be presents waiting under the tree, just for you.”

“Wait… Whos’ Rudolph, and why is he getting a carrot? That’s lame!” You exclaimed, trying to keep up with the different names’ that you’re very unfamiliar with, “Why isn’t he getting cookies? That’s not really fair, is it?”

“Rudolph is one of Santa’s reindeers that helps him fly his sleigh,” Leah chuckled, shaking her head in amusement, “He’ll need a healthy snack as well, he can’t eat cookies like Santa.”

Your brow furrowed as the skepticism creeped in, “This Santa fella sounds like a creep still…”

Jordan laughed and shook her head, “He’s not, little one. He’s just… magical. It's part of the fun.”

You kept your arms crossed, not entirely convinced about things, “Yeah, I’m not convinced much there but whatever you say,” You told them both, “I’m still mad at him for not showing up until now though.”

“This tree is perfect,” Leah beamed a wide smile as she stood there with her hands on her hips as she admired the brand new tree standing in the corner of the living room, “I can’t wait to decorate it!”

“Are you sure that you want to put it up already?” Jordan questioned, raising an eyebrow, “It’s only the middle of November.”

“It’s never too early for Christmas, Jord,” Leah replied confidently.

“Are you sure about that?” Jordan teased, admiring the way that her girlfriend stood there beaming with pride.

“I’m sure! The house is going to look so magical when it’s all done, and it’s going to be great for both of our girls,” Leah turned towards you, her smile softening, “Do you want to help me decorate the tree, my girl?”

You hesitated, shifting awkwardly, “Do I have to?”

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, but it might be fun,” Leah suggested in a gentle tone of voice, “We can even put your special bauble on there that we brought, can’t we?”

Jordan snorted in amusement from across the room, “Remember how much fun this is when our 7 month old is trying to pull all the lights and baubles off the tree, eh?” She teased.

“Don’t be a Grinch, Jord,” Leah shot back, playfully as she stuck her tongue out at her girlfriend.

You tilted your head curiously, “What’s a Grinch?”

There was a short collective gasp from both Leah and Jord, “He’s only the best character in one of the greatest Christmas films!” Jordan exclaimed, “We can watch it if you want?”

Leah laughed at Jordan’s reaction, “It’s a bit too early for Christmas films, don’t you think?” She teased in response to earlier.

Jordan scoffed, “Oh, really? Says’ the one who wants to put the tree up already!” She pointed a finger at you and Leah dramatically, “We’re watching The Grinch. No arguments. It’s for educational purposes.”

“Whatever you say. Just as long as you don’t complain about me putting the tree up then,” Leah responded, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

“You can go ahead and put the tree up, me and our girls are going to watch the movie,” Jordan instructed, wasting no time to turn the TV on and sought out the film to watch.

“I think Buddy’s more interested in the lights,” Leah retorted, watching Buddy, who was currently mesmerized by the dangling, twinkling lights draped across the tree as her tiny hands tried to reach out for them, determined to grab them, “No, no. Those aren’t for you to pull on, bubba.” She said, scooping Buddy into her arms before she could cause too much mischief.

Jordan smirked in amusement, “Oh, I give it a week before she’s trying to pull the baubles off the tree.”

“No way,” Leah gently kissed Buddy’s forehead, “Those aren’t for you to pull on, bubba. Mummy’s trying to decorate the tree so it’ll be all pretty. You just like looking at them, don’t you, huh?”

Buddy babbled happily in response, making Leah and Jordan both laugh.

“Let me take her so you can finish the rest of the tree,” Jordan offered, scooping Buddy into her arms and pressing a gentle kiss on top of her forehead, “I don’t blame her for being so mesmerized, you’ve made it look wonderful already, love.”

“Thanks, babe,” Leah murmured, exchanging a gentle kiss on the lips with Jordan, “Monkey,” She called over to you gently as you sat curled up on the sofa with your head buried in your phone, “Are you sure you don’t want to come and help decorate the rest of the tree? There’s still a fair bit to go.”

“Oh, uh, no… no, I’m alright,” You hesitated, your hands fidgeting nervously, “I’d probably just end up messing it up or something.”

Leah moved closer to you, “You won’t mess it up, my girl. I’m sure of it.”

“I’ve never decorated a tree before though,” You admitted, looking down while your voice is barely audible, “I… I don’t know what to do.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Leah’s heart ached at the vulnerability in your voice, she moved to sit beside you and pulled a box of baubles closer, “Everyone has to start somewhere, right? How about this? You take the special baubles we picked out for you and choose a place for them on the tree. You can make it your own.”

“Are you sure?” You continued to look at Leah hesitantly.

Leah smiled warmly, “I’m positive, my girl. Come on, let’s do it together.”

Tentatively, you picked up a shiny bauble with your name etched on it. With Leah by your side, you found a perfect spot on the tree and carefully hung it on the branch, “Is this okay?”

“There we go,” Leah said proudly, stepping back to admire your work, “Hey, that looks amazing. Nice one, my girl!” She said as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, squeezing you lightly.

"How much longer do we have to wait in this line now?" You grumbled, your impatience getting the better of you as you fidgeted in your spot, "It feels like we've been here forever!"

Another tradition you couldn't fathom was the idea of going to pay a visit to Santa at his grotto, but you were, standing in a line with Leah, Jordan, Buddy and Amanda, who'd decided to join the trip to experience the magical moment of Buddy meeting Santa for the first time.

The line to Santa's grotto stretched endlessly, or at least so it felt like it to you, and you couldn't help but continue to fidget impatiently while standing beside Leah, "Patience, my girl." She reassured you, knowingly.

"This is our Monkey we're talking about. I don't think she has patience," Jordan joked, peering up from looking at her phone, amused by your grumbles.

Amanda gave you an amused smile, bouncing a bundled up Buddy in her arms, "We're almost at the front now, Monkey."

You huffed, glancing ahead at the entrance of the grotto, "Why're they so small?" You speak your mind without a second thought, gesturing to the small people, dressed in bright costumes, bustling around, "Those little people are kinda low-key terrifying." Their cheerful movement only made your expression sour further.

"They're called Elves, Monkey," Jordan said, stifling her laughter.

You squinted, still not entirely convinced, "I don't care what they are called, they're still freaky," You muttered, "Are people actually that small?"

"Monkey!" Leah hissed, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper, though her lip twitched in amusement, "You can't say things like that, don't be rude."

"But I'm not bein' rude, I'm just bein' honest," You argued, gesturing dramatically towards said elves, "They are tiny though, right? Like, freakishly small!"

"Stop it," Leah shot you a warning look.

Amanda cleared her throat, clearly fighting back her own laughter, "So, do you know what you're going to ask Santa for this year, Monkey?" She asked, steering the conversation in another direction, and trying to get some inkling of what you would like.

"Hell nah, there's no way I am tellin' that creep what I want," You told her firmly, crossing your arms your chest, "Amanda! Did you know that he actually sneaks into houses when you're asleep?"

"Yes, I've heard about that," Amanda agreed, her tone teasing as she rocked Buddy, who stared at you with wide eyes.

"It ain't right, is it? It's weird, like dude, I'm sleepin' so g'way!" You exclaimed, your hands flying around in exasperation, "He like sneaks into the house in the middle of the night, and that's just borderline creeper alert!"

Amanda chuckled in amusement, entertained by your antics that she's not seen entirely before considering you're usually more secluded and reluctant to speak around any of Leah's family, "Your big sister certainly is funny, isn't she?" She coos to Buddy, bouncing her lightly in her arms.

"Looks like it's nearly our turn to go in now," Jordan motioned, nodding towards the family ahead of you as they disappeared into the grotto.

"Great," You declared with a newfound determination, your face set in a scowl, "Me an' the fella in red need to have words." You told her, rolling up your sleeves, more than ready to scrap with him.

"Whoa, no, no, no!" Leah was quick to react, grabbing your arms and pulling you back, "I don't think so. Monkey you cannot fight Santa."

You scrunched your face up in confusion, "Why not? He's the one that's left me out every other year until now! Let me 'ave him. I can fight him!"

"No, absolutely not," Leah told you in a firm tone of voice, "I know you might be upset about the past but that still doesn't mean you can try and fight him, alright?  It's definitely not okay to do that."

"But, he forgot me..." You whine in protest.

Leah sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose,"Monkey, I'm being serious now. No fighting Santa Clause, do you understand?"

"There's a sentence I bet you never thought you'd say, love," Jordan quipped, amusedly.

"Fine," You grumbled, crossing your arms, "I won't try to fight Santa."

When your turn finally came, Buddy's reaction was immediate and dramatic. As soon as her eyes locked on Santa's jolly face, within seconds she was letting out an ear-piercing wail, burying her face in Amanda's shoulder, clinging onto her like her life depended on it.

"Oh dear," Amanda said, patting Buddy's back, "I didn't expect that reaction."

"Oh bubba," Leah cooed in a gentle tone of voice, "He's not that scary, I promise."

"Here, let me take her," Jordan said, gently scooping Buddy into her arms, "Shh, it's okay, Buddy. It's okay."

"Is it? Cos' I think she might have the right idea," In your defence, you did try and keep your word, however your anger can't be helped, and seeing the man with a joyful expression just made you twitch with rage.

"Don't even think about it, Monkey," Leah warned, sensing your intentions.

Ignoring her, you stepped forward, jabbing a finger in Santa's direction, "Listen, 'ere, mate, yeah?" You began, your tone scolding, "You can't come into me' house while I'm asleep, you creep! But also, since you're taking notes... I like Shrek and LEGO, so, capiche?"

"Oh no," Amanda mumbled, trying to stifle her laughter.

Leah groaned, pulling you back, "That's enough, Menace. Reign it in."

"But I wasn't done yet!" You protested.

"Oh no, we're definitely done. Let's go, out there," Leah declared, steering you toward the exit, "Keep this up and you'll be getting coal in your stocking."

You scrunched your face up in confusion, "What's coal?"

"Never mind," Leah muttered.

"Well at least this trip has been somewhat memorable," Jordan quipped, exiting the grotto with a tearful Buddy in her arms.

Leah exhales a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, "And to think I just wanted a photo of the girls with Santa, is that too much to ask for?" She mumbled, glancing between you and Buddy.

"What's so fun about a walk in the woods? It's freezing outside!" You complained, leaning up against the doorframe of the living room with a scowl etched on your face.

"It'll be fun," Leah chuckled as she finished off wrapping a present, carefully placing it in a gift bag.

You scrunch your face up in disagreement, crossing your arms over your chest, "I'm not convinced."

It was now Christmas Eve, which meant there was yet another tradition - a walk with Leah's entire family. You weren't overly keen on the whole idea of that one though.

"Do I have to come?" You questioned, not thrilled about the idea.

"Yes you do. Stop being grumpy," Leah said, smirking.

"I'm not grumpy, but there's gotta be better things to do than go for a walk in bitter temperatures!" You dramatically huffed, throwing your arms up in the air in protest.

"Okay, now you're being dramatic," Leah teased, "It's not even that cold outside--  Buddy's excited, aren't you, bubba?" She cooed, crouching down to scoop Buddy off her playmat, where she lay there, admiring the twinkling lights.

You glanced at Buddy, who let out some babble you didn't really understand, "Yeah, she sounds like she's thrilled. Besides, she doesn't even have to walk!"

"What's going on?" Jordan asked as she walked in, eyebrows raised.

"Leah's forcing me outside when it's freezing Jord!" You whined in protest, dead set against the idea, "Why do I even have to come?"

Jordan chuckled, "Oh, I'll leave this one up to you to deal with." She joked, gently taking Buddy from Leah to get her ready to go out, "Come on little miss, let's go and get you ready to go out, shall we, hm?"

"Oh thanks babe, I really appreciate the help," Leah murmured sarcastically, shaking her head, "You're part of the family now, Monkey, and it's a tradition of ours."

"But I... I like being warm," You mumbled, keeping your arms crossed over your chest.

"It's not that cold outside, Monkey," Leah said, rolling her eyes as she walked through the hallway to grab her coat off the peg, "You'll like it, I promise."

"It's England, it's always cold, Leah," You complained, still not liking the idea one bit.

Leah pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head, "Here, coat and shoes on, please."

"Fine," You huffed, stomping your foot as you reluctantly took your coat from Leah, "But I'm still not happy about this!"

As it turned out, you did end up having some kind of fun at least, with Jacob, Leah's brother and Ben, Leah's cousin.

"Race you there!" Jacob shouted.

"Nah, I'm gonna beat you first!" You yelled, sprinting ahead.

You and Jacob seemed to get on like a house on fire, he was only a couple of years older than you give or take, so it was fun and Ben was like a big kid anyways.

"I'm gonna beat you both, slow pokes!" Ben joined in, grinning as he bolted to catch up with you both.

From behind, Leah and Jordan watched with amused smiles as they walked with the rest of Leah's family, "So much for her not wanting to come then, huh?" Jordan quipped.

"Tell me about it," Leah chuckled, shaking her head as she watched you race ahead of Jacob and Ben, "Be careful, Monkey, or you'll slip--" She trailed off as you skidded slighty but caught yourself, "Yep, she definitely didn't listen to a single word I said then."

"Relax, love," Jordan reassured her girlfriend, clasping her own hand in Leah's, "She'll be fine, she's sensible."

Leah raised an eyebrow, "This is Monkey, we're talking about right? The one who personally tried to fight Santa at the grotto, remember?"

"Yeah... You're right there," Jordan laughed.

"Oh, I heard all about that!" Holly, Leah's cousin, chimed in, clearly amused, "Absolutely hilarious!"

"Oh, don't even remind me," Leah groaned, "It was so embarrassing, honestly."

"But she did seem determined about it, though," Jordan quipped.

Berny smiled warmly, "I have to say it's nice to see her coming out of her shell a bit more now."

"I'm used to her being quiet around here. She's a right little firecracker, isn't she?" Amanda chuckled, noting back to the trip at the grotto, and also hearing about other incidents.

"Oh, she definitely can be," Leah said softly, "It's taken her some time getting used to it, but she's slowly starting to get there."

"I have to admit when you first brought up the idea of bringing a teenager home when you were heavily pregnant, I did have some concerns," David, Leah's dad, who had been quiet until now, piped in.

Amanda hummed in agreement, "I think we all did."

"Same here," Jordan admitted, "But you try going against a hormonal heavily pregnant woman who was determined to do it. I know when to pick my battles." 

Leah shot her a playful glare, but her face softened at Jordan's next words, "I wouldn't have it any other way now with our little family." She said, leaning over and kissing her girlfriend on the cheek.

"Nice save," Leah retorted, smitten by her girlfriend's words.

"She's a great kid, Le. She does seem settled," Holly stated, watching with a fond smile as you ran around with Jacob and Ben, laughing and having fun.

Leah nodded in agreement, smiling, "She is great, and she absolutely adores Buddy as well."

"They are going to be double trouble together," David joked, patting Leah on the shoulder, "I'm telling you when Buddy's old enough to talk, they'll run rings around you both."

"I don't look forward to that," Leah grimaced, her head filled with images of all sorts of chaos you and Buddy would cause, "Thank God there's still time to prepare for that."

"Do you think she's excited for Christmas?" Berny wondered.

"I think so?" Jordan replied, making it sound more like a question than an answer.

"She's never really gotten to properly experience it before, until now," Leah explained to her family, "She was pretty reluctant to even let us buy her an advent calendar this year."

Jordan winced at the memory, "Yeah, that was an experience."

"It's a first Christmas for both of them, you'll just have to make it extra special," Jordan, Leah's cousin, chimed into the conversation.

"And just think this time next year, you'll have your little boy as well," Leah told her with a soft, genuine smile, "Buddy will have a friend then." She added, glancing down at the sleeping 8 month old in her pushchair.

"That's right," Jordan hummed, resting her hands on her own ever-growing baby bump, "I can't wait to meet him."

"It'll fly by before you know it," Amanda told her, "Leah said the same about Buddy, and before we all knew it, she was here." She cooed, crouching down to place a gentle kiss on the top of Buddy's forehead, who was still fast asleep.

"I just don't want Monkey to feel too overwhelmed by it all, and I know our family can be a lot sometimes," Leah admitted, feeling weary about tomorrow and how much it might be for you compared to usual.

"Don't worry, bubba, I'm sure she'll be fine," Amanda reassured Leah, "Don't overthink it so much, alright? Let's just take it one day at a time."

"Yeah, you're right," Leah nodded in agreement.

"Now, I've wrapped both of the girls' presents for you both to take back to your house when you go," Amanda explained to Leah and Jordan, "I thought it was best so you could open tem at home without everyone around."

Leah nodded along, listening to Amanda's explanation, "Thanks, Mum. I'm sure the girls will both love them,"

"I bet Buddy will love the wrapping paper more," David chuckled, peering down at his granddaughter, who's succumbed to sleep.

"I have kept the receipts anyways just in case the clothes aren't the right size, so we exchange them, of course," Amanda added in, weary about the fact that the clothes might not be the right size.

"I'm sure they'll be fine," Jordan quipped, shrugging her shoulders, "Oo, speaking of trouble, here she comes!" She motioned to you, racing back towards them.

"I won!" You exclaimed, slightly out of breath as you leaned over, your cheeks were rosy red from the cold, "Did you see? Them two are slow!"

"Oh yeah, totally. You definitely out run them!" Jordan teased, ruffling your hair, "You look freezing, little one. Ready to go and grab a hot chocolate now in the cafe?"

Your eyes lit up at the question and without any hesitation you answered, "Yeah!"

"I've heard that you really like hot chocolate, Monkey?" Holly chimed in, curiously, having heard about your liking for the sweet drink as the whole family headed in the direction of a cosy cafe.

"I do, but it has to have whipped cream and marshmallows, otherwise it's lame," You rambled, your shyness completely going out of the window.

"I tend to make pretty good hot chocolate, if I do say so myself," David declared, keeping his hands stuffed in the pocket of his trousers.

"Oh yeah, Monkey. You'll have to try one of David's special ones that he makes," Amanda piped into the conversation with a knowing smile.

Leah chuckled, "I learnt it from the pro himself. Ain't that right, Dad?"

"Of course, sweetheart," David replied in agreement.

"Really? Can I try one?" You asked, curiously, wanting to try it for yourself to make sure it was really that good.

"Of course you can," David agreed, a fond smile on his lips, "Tell you what, I'll make you one tomorrow. How's that sound?"

"Deal!" You exclaimed.

You all reached the cafe and didn't waste time huddling inside of it, it was mostly quiet, with only a few other people sat down, and the smell of hot chocolate and fresh baked pastries filled the air, enough to make your mouth water.

"Right, you, come on let's go and find a table to sit down at," Jordan gestured you in the direction of a table in the far corner, big enough for the whole family.

"I'll go and order the drinks," Amanda made the decision, looking around everyone, "Hot chocolate, all round?"

"Yeah, please, Mum!" Leah agreed, steering the pushchair in a spot that wouldn't be in the way and Buddy could still sleep peacefully.

"Go on then!" Jacob didn't hesitate to agree, sliding into the empty seat on the other side of you, "Monkey, when you come round tomorrow, we have to play Fifa!"

"You're on!" You declared, nodding in agreement as the two of you just fell into conversation about the game.

A bit later on, you sat there with your warm hot chocolate in your hands while deep in thought. You weren't used to all these people around you and it feels somewhat strange, but also comforting as well.

"What're you thinking about, my girl?" Leah noticed your distant look, looping her free arm around your shoulder and pulling you in towards her.

"It's just, well it's weird, you know?" You mumbled, hesitant to speak your feelings into words.

Leah arched her eyebrow, "What is?"

"Havin' a family, like, a proper family," You admitted, your tone of voice quiet, afraid to say the wrong words to her, "I just... I just, I mean, I've never really had one before, it's always just been me and my dad, and now there's a lot of people around. They've welcomed me in, but they... they don't really know me, do they?"

Leah's expression softened, "They're getting to know you, Monkey, and they all love you," She explained in a gentle tone of voice, "And that's family, for you. You're one of us now, remember? You're a Williamson." She declared.

"Actually, love," Jordan interjected with a grin, "She's a Williamson-Nobbs, remember? Get it right."

leahwilliamsonn posted

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leahwilliamsonn traditional christmas eve walk & back home ready for santa to pay a vist! 🎅🏼🍪🥛

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bethmead_ oh i bet they're both so excited! 🥹💗

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liawalti oh i adore both of them so much! ❤️

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viviannemiedema 🎅🏼❤️

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jordannobbs can't wait to see both of their faces tomorrow! 🥹💗

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katie_mccabe11 remember to sleep with one eye open, menace! 😉

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