#and that moment when someone dropped an apple and he thought for a second it was her hat and he started panicking I cannot take it

[zeb-z]

Foolish going in with two totems as a part-totem who never, never uses totems. His screams for Leo as the ceiling caves in, trying desperately to throw her a totem through the barrier. Digging, trying to glitch, trying to problem solve in a situation so chaotic and so impossible, there’s just nothing he can do. Not leaving until his totem pops - until he can’t see Leo anymore. Repeating to himself that she was right there, just right there, he couldn’t even get her a totem, he couldn’t do anything.

Foolish staying behind to make sure Tina and Mouse get out, to make sure he sticks with Cellbit, telling himself he can feel it later, as long as they survive, he can feel it later - and running out of time. If he hadn’t stayed behind digging for Leo, he would have made it. If he hadn’t given all but one of his enderpearls to the others, he would have made it. If he wasn’t looking over his shoulder for Cellbit, he would have made it.

[flwrstqr]

✧ BAD IDEA : WHEN THEY'RE YOUR HOT NERD BOYFRIEND ╰—— 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗒, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅, 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗂 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌?

𝑜𝑓 · 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤 ⦂ loser bf!enhypen x f!r 1OOOwc. ── est relationship, skinship, petnames, enha being such losers TT ｡｡ ⠀fluff ✦ 𝓒ATALOGUE ♡ ��

 DANi : i know i did loser bf enhypen hyung line before.. but i guess this is a remake of it ㅠㅠ

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 heeseung’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, headset slightly askew, eyes glued to his monitor as he furiously clicks his mouse. “babe, just one more round—promise,” he mumbles, though you know it’s a lie. his hair’s a mess, the strands you’d combed earlier now falling into his eyes, and he’s wearing that stupid hoodie he refuses to retire. he flinches when you plop into his lap, arms draped lazily around his shoulders. “i’m playing!” he protests, cheeks flushing as you press a kiss to his jawline. “you’re losing,” you tease, watching his avatar get obliterated on-screen. he groans, leaning back against you, headset falling off entirely. “this is sabotage, yn.” you grin, peppering his face with kisses until he’s a flustered mess, stammering something about focus. “i’ll stop... if you win,” you add, knowing full well he doesn’t stand a chance. he’s so helplessly cute, your hot loser boyfriend.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 jay leans against the kitchen counter, half-eating an apple and half-staring at you like you’re the only thing keeping him alive, and it’s so stupidly obvious he’s down bad. “you look tired,” he mumbles, eyes flickering to the dark circles under your eyes, but his ears turn pink when you catch him staring. “come here, idiot,” you say, tugging his hoodie sleeve to pull him closer. he obeys instantly, like the certified no-rizz loser boyfriend he is, dropping the apple to wrap his arms around your waist in an awkward position. you rest your forehead against his chest, his warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. “you smell like apples,” you mumble. “is that bad?” he asks softly, voice almost shy. “no,” you say, tilting your chin up, “but i like this better.” and then you kiss him, while his hands tighten on your waist like he can’t believe you’re real.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 jake is sprawled across your couch, one sock half-off, looking entirely too attractive for someone who just tripped over your laundry basket five minutes ago. “hey, my sugar plum boo,” he says out of nowhere, grinning like he’s invented a new way to embarrass himself. you blink at him, halfway between horrified and amused. “your what?” he flinches, already regretting it but trying to play it cool. “sugar plum boo? thought I’d try something new.” you stare for a moment before bursting into laughter, and he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “okay, yeah, terrible idea. forget I said that.” but you’re already climbing into his lap, cupping his face, his ears burning red as you kiss the corner of his mouth. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” you tease. “just stick to ‘baby’ okay?” he nods, pulling you closer, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “noted, baby.”

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 sunghoon stands in your doorway, holding up a pair of matching t-shirts with the goofiest grin, like he just solved world peace. “ta-da! couple goals, right?” he says, clearly proud of himself. the shirts say something ridiculous like “she’s my waffle” and “he’s my syrup” and you just stand there, blinking. “hoon,” you start, already fighting a smile, “are you serious?” he fidgets, running a hand through his ridiculously perfect hair, and somehow he’s both a greek god and a total loser at the same time. “what? i thought it’d be cute…” he mumbles, looking down. you sigh, walking up to him, and his shoulders relax the second you slip your arms around his waist. “you’re unbelievable,” you murmur, tilting up to kiss him. his hands find your back, warm and steady. “so… no keychains, then?” he asks, trying not to smile, and you can’t help but laugh against his lips.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 sunoo’s hand is warm in yours as you walk through the mall, his lips pursed in concentration as he scans the signs. “baby, wait—wait, they have the new plushies!” he gasps, dragging you toward the toy store. people are staring again, because of course they are—he’s ridiculously pretty, and his blonde hair catches the light. you can’t help but smile at how oblivious he is to the attention, too busy squishing a stuffed bear against his cheek. “doesn’t this look like you?” he grins, holding it up, and you laugh, tugging him closer by the collar of his oversized sweater. “you’re cuter,” you murmur, and his ears turn red. “stop that,” he whines, but he leans in anyway when you kiss him softly, his hand shyly cupping your jaw. “you’re unfair,” he mumbles, pouting, but he doesn’t pull away.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 it’s 2 a.m., and jungwon’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, reading glasses perched on his nose, hair slightly messy from running his hands through it every time he gets excited. “did you know cats have a special purr that’s called a ‘solicitation purr’? it’s how they get humans to do what they want—it’s genius,” he’s been at this for over an hour, flipping through articles on his phone and gesturing dramatically. you’re curled up beside him, head resting on his shoulder, watching his lips move more than you’re actually listening, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “look, their whiskers even tell them how wide a space is—how cool is that?” he says, eyes sparkling. you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, cutting him off mid-sentence. “you’re cooler and cuter,” you whisper, and his face goes red as he mumbled, “stop—you’re distracting me,” but he doesn’t move away.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 riki sits across from you at the diner, wearing that ridiculous shirt that says “I paused my game to be here” like it’s peak humor, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the side of his hand. his hair’s all messy, and he keeps fidgeting with his fries, stacking them like tiny Jenga pieces. “stop staring,” he mumbles, his ears turning red, but he doesn’t look up, knowing full well you’re doing it to fluster him. “why would i stop looking at my baby?” you tease, leaning over the table just enough to poke his cheek. he freezes, then scowls (a weak attempt, really). “you’re insufferable.” but when you press a quick kiss to his jaw, he melts instantly, leaning into it like the softie he is. “i hate you,” he mutters again, but his hand finds yours under the table, lacing your fingers together, and it’s all too obvious he’s lying.

[hayleythesugarbowl]

hey girlyyyyy could you maybe write for Tim Bradford from the rookie and like the reader is his rookie and while they’re on patrol they run into someone who knows the reader’s abusive ex bf and he makes threats against reader and after their shift reader is super scared so he escorts them home and stays with them idk just an idea 😅

Nightlight || Tim Bradford x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • john nolan fic  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you encounter a man while on patrol who has a threatening message from your ex, your TO, Tim, offers to spend the night with you

word count: 10.4k

warnings: abusive past relationship, reader kind of has a panic attack, mild language, blood, guns, inaccurate police stuff

a/n: ahhh i had so much fun writing this, love!! i took your idea and also added some stuff so i hope you like what i did. i also apologize for the length, i kinda went wild. i imagine this to take place in s1. fem!reader. enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “7-Adam-19, armed shoplifter, Radcliffe Complex, 718 Oscar Road. Respond.”

     The dispatcher’s voice filled the silence of the car.

     “7-Adam-19 responding.” Officer  Bradford set down the radio and replaced his hand on the steering wheel.

     “What’s the most important thing to remember when dealing with an armed shoplifter, Boot?” Tim asked you after a moment. 

     “Why did I think that when I was in short-sleeves I would get a break from your Tim Tests?” you muttered.  

     You’d been Bradford’s rookie for seven months now and some days he still treated you like it was your first day on the force. You appreciated him trying to teach you so thoroughly, but did he have to be so Tim all the time?

     “Is that your answer, Boot?” 

     “No, um, I guess it would be that he’s armed. But no, that’s too obvious for you. Ok, what about what they’re stealing? Their physical state? Keeping their hands in sight at all times?”

     Tim sighed, looking bored. “Wrong. It’s—”

     “Suspect on the move, heading east on Apple Boulevard,” came the dispatcher’s update, interrupting your TO’s answer.

     “Looks like we’re headed east,” Tim said, turning sharply in the direction you’d just come from. 

     “Saved by the suspect,” you joked. 

     “Don’t think this is over,” Tim narrowed his eyes at the road. “Lessons don’t stop for crime.”

     “Ok, batman.”

     Tim glared at you.

     “I mean, Sir.”

     After you’d first been assigned to Officer Bradford, you’d been told stories of his ruthless training style. Your first thought was that you needed to impress him from day one.

     Well, technically your first thought was damn, because you’d have to be insane not to notice how objectively attractive he was. But you’d quickly quelled that thought—crushing on your TO was not how you wanted to start your career as an officer. 

     So, impressing him was your second thought. And you had been more than a little terrified of not impressing him. 

     You would be lying if you said that wasn’t how things still were between you two, to a degree—you trying to prove yourself and him making it as difficult as possible. 

     But, at least after several months, you felt like your TO trusted you more. 

     “There!” You pointed to a man running down the street, duffel bag in hand.

     Tim hit the gas, surpassing the suspect, and skidding to a stop in front of him, effectively cutting him off. 

     You both hurried out of the car, weapons drawn on the man who was currently aiming his gun back and forth, between you and Bradford. 

     “Police! Drop your weapon!” Tim shouted at the man. 

     The man hesitated, seeming to be weighing his options—how easily he could take out two cops. 

     “Set the weapon down, nice and easy,” Tim ordered, his own gun still pointed at the suspect.”

     The man, seeming to sense the inevitability of his capture, sighed and set his gun on the ground. 

     “The answer was dialogue, by the way,” Tim addressed you, his eyes still on the suspect. “Dialogue is the most important  thing when dealing with an armed suspect.”

     “Good to know,” you acknowledged, before ordering the man in front of you. “Hands behind your head, interlace your fingers.”

     The man’s gaze shot to you as he obeyed your commands. 

     “Hey, lady cop, you look familiar,” the criminal squinted at you. 

     “You must have me mistaken for someone else,” you said. You’d never seen this man in your life. 

     “I swear—”

     “Hands on the car!” You ordered 

     The man reluctantly did what he was told, placing his palms on the side of the shop. 

      “Wait a minute,” the man sized you up before smirking slowly. “Your Paul Cranston’s girl, ain’t ya?”

     You felt your blood instantly run cold at the name. 

     “You must have me mistaken for someone else,” you said again, robotically, grabbing one of his arms. 

     “No, no I’d recognize that pretty face anywhere,” the criminal whispered. “He told me all about you. Hey, why don’t you let me go and I’ll give you a friendly tip?”

     You responded by twisting his arm behind his back even harder.

     He winced. “So you didn’t hear then? Paul’s out.”

     No. That couldn’t be true. Paul wasn’t supposed to be out for—

     “Boot, you going to cuff him or not?” Tim called impatiently.

     “Right.” You shook off the stupor and began handcuffing the suspect. Your mind was still on that name, however, and your reflexes were slowed.

     Which is how the suspect was able to rip his arm from your grip and shove you to the ground as he tried to make a break for it. 

     Tim tackled him almost immediately, wrestling him into the cuffs that were dangling on one of his wrists where you had started to restrain him, and pushing him towards the shop.

     “Wait, Paul’s got a message for you!” the man hurried out, looking only at you as Tim waked over and shoved him into the backseat. “He said you best watch yourself, because he has connections, and he still hasn’t gotten his revenge. He’s out—and he’s coming for you.”

     “That’s enough, get in the car.” Tim slammed the door shut, and the echo of it rang in your ears as the man’s words played over and over again.

     He’s out, and he’s coming for you. 

     “What the hell was that?” 

     You looked up to Bradford’s questioning—and furious—face. He offered you a hand and you took it, standing up to face him. 

     “Sorry, I—”

     “‘Sorry’ doesn’t stop criminals from escaping,” Tim shouted. “Get your head in the game. You do want to be a cop, don’t you, Boot?”

     “Yes, sir.”

     So much for Tim trusting you. You couldn’t believe you’d almost just let a suspect get away. That had never happened to you before. But, that name—

     Your TO shook his head, walking to the drivers side and opening the door. “You know, I should write you up for that.”

     You noticed his wording. “But you’re not going to?”

     He waited for you to get into the passenger seat before saying, 

     “I didn’t say that. First you’re going to tell me what just happened between you two.”

     You flinched. “It—nothing. It was nothing.”

     “Uh-huh. It didn’t sound like nothing. Who’s Paul Cranston?” 

     You swallowed hard. “He’s just someone I used to know.”

      A million images flashed through your head. Paul’s face looming over you. The flashing lights and sirens. Waking up in the hospital. 

     You shook yourself out of it. You didn’t want to talk about this now. You swore you’d never talk about it again. “Shouldn’t—shouldn’t we get back to the station. Don’t we have to book this guy?”

     Tim sighed, started the car, and re-entered traffic. You breathed a sigh of relief. 

     “Control, this is 7-Adam-19. I need an ID on a Paul Cranston,” Tim spoke into his radio. 

     And so much for not talking about this now.

     “Can you do that without suspicion of a crime?” You asked him.

     “You can when dispatch loves you.” He winked at you. 

     You rolled your eyes at him as the radio began speaking. 

     “Paul Cranston: caucasian male, date of birth 8/4/92, recently released on parole, history of theft and domestic violence.” 

     Tim turned his gaze to you. “How do you know this man, Boot?”

     “It’s—a long story,” you told him. 

     “Well then you better start talking if you want to finish before we reach the station,” Tim commanded, making a left turn.

     “Can’t you just let it go?” You asked him. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

      He’s out, and he’s coming for you. 

     You couldn’t fight the shiver that racked your body. 

      Tim’s eyes flicked to you, before returning back to the road. Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes, shifting the car into park before turning to you. 

     “If this is another one of your ‘I’m dying, where are we’ tests—”

     “Boot, focus,” Tim barked. 

     “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think it’s really any of your concern if—”

     “Of course it’s my concern!” Tim shouted. His expression was so intense, you squirmed under his gaze and you felt your face heat. 

     He looked torn for a moment, before sighing and saying, “It’s my job as your TO to train you to the best of my abilities, and I can’t do that if you’re withholding information that may affect your performance as an officer.”

     “Fine,” you breathed. “It was a long time ago. I was 18, Paul and I met freshman year of college. We started dating and things were fine, good even, for a while.”

     “Until?” Tim prompted.

     “Until he got pissed one night because I caught him coming home really late with a ski mask and a bag full of stolen cash. Cliche, right?”

     You looked to Tim, but his expression was as stony as ever and you continued.

     “Apparently, he’d been stealing since high school and turns out he’d lied to me about working in retail and a whole bunch of other stuff. I threatened to call the police if he didn’t stop and—”

     You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

You watched the houses and trees and cars pass by as you drove towards the station. 

     “—and he hit me. It didn't stop after that—once he knew he could get away with it. He said if I ever told anyone—about the robberies, the beatings—that he’d kill me. And I let him go on like that for months. I was so scared that if I called anyone, he’d make good on his promise.”

     Tim’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his fingers turning white, but he didn’t speak.

     “But then, one night, it got so bad that I thought he might actually kill me anyway. So I waited until he left the room for a minute and I called 911. He was arrested and—and that’s all I remember before I blacked out. I woke up in the hospital the next morning.”

     You kept your voice even, trying not to let the emotion show through your story. You were just recounting facts. This was almost 10 years ago, and you’d moved on with your life. 

     But reliving it all was hard, even after so much time had passed. 

     “It’s actually why I joined the academy,” you finished. “I wanted to save people, the way the officers that night did for me.”

     You were both silent for a moment. 

     A muscle in Tim’s jaw ticked. “Does the department know?”

     “Yeah,” you sighed. “It’s all part of my file.”

     “And the guy back there?” 

     You shrugged, glancing back at the suspect and lowering your voice. “He must be one of Paul’s partners or goons or—I don’t know. I guess he’s been in contact with him since he was released, if he knows what I look like.”

     The thought made your skin crawl. 

     “I don’t know what came over me,” you kept going. “It’s been years, I just—I didn’t expect to hear about him out of the blue from a criminal on the street, you know? But, I promise it won’t happen again.”

     Tim ignored that. “Do you think it was an empty threat?”

     “I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I sure as hell hope so.”

     Bradford was silent for a long moment, his expression tense.

     The radio crackled to life. “7-Adam-19, we have a 215 in progress near your area, 239 West Armston Street. Respond.” 

     “Negative,” Bradford answered the dispatch call. 

     You stared at him, shocked. “Why aren’t we taking that? We can drop this guy off afterwards.”

     “Yeah, I agree,” the suspect chimed in from the backseat. “I think you should take that first.”

      Tim payed him no attention. “They’ll have someone else over there in minutes. We have more important things to do.”

     “You’re not even going to ask me if I know what a 215 is?” You joked. Tim never passed up an opportunity to quiz you. 

     “What’s a 215, Boot?” 

     “Carjacking.”

     “Correct.” Tim nodded. “And we’re going to have a talk with Sergeant Grey.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

    “Paul Cranston, released on parole from a thirteen year sentence three days ago, currently believed to be residing in the Woodland Hills area.”

     You sat in the briefing room, surrounded by other officers, as Sergeant Grey read out your ex-boyfriend’s file. You stared into Paul’s face on the screen, his mugshot visible from all angles. 

     Bradford stood near the front of the room, leaning against the wall. 

      “The department is aware of Officer (Y/l/n)’s history with Mr. Cranston,” Grey continued. “And will take necessary action should the situation progress.”

      “So, what’s the course of action here?” Tim crossed his arms. 

     “I’m afraid, as of now, there isn’t one,” Grey said. “Since there is no direct proof against Paul Cranston, we’d essentially be taking the word of a petty thief and wasting resources on what most likely was a desperate attempt to escape arrest. The department doesn’t exactly consider it a threat.”

    “Doesn’t consider it a threat?” Tim’s voice was low and dangerous. “How about a charge for threatening an officer?”

    “But Paul didn’t threaten an officer,” you sighed, thinking. “The armed robbery suspect did.”

     “Exactly, Officer (Y/l/n),” Grey agreed. “Basically, our hands are tied.”

     “Then untie them,” Bradford snapped, beginning to pace. “There’s gotta be some technicality we can get him on. Violation of parole, conspiring with a felon, failure to—”

     “That’s enough, Officer Bradford,” The sergeant fixed your TO with a firm look. “I appreciate your concern for (Y/l/n)’s safety, but we’ve done all we can do. And, for now, that’s nothing.”

      Tim’s concern for your safety. That thought had been in the back of your mind since the ride to the station. You couldn’t figure out why Tim was so determined about this. You supposed you were his rookie and was his job to look out for you. It was just, up until now, he hadn’t exactly done anything to make you believe he’d care so much.

     “Failure to take action could be endangering one of our officers,” Tim said, his jaw clenched. “Who’s to say this guy won’t make good on his threat? At least increase security at (Y/l/n)’s residence.”

     “Tim, its fine,” you said, your voice firm. “Let it go.” 

     They were making a big enough deal about this already. It probably was just a case of a criminal trying anything to get free. You doubted Paul even cared about what happened to you anymore. He probably never wanted to see you again—and that was a good thing. 

     But, then, you couldn’t get those words out of your head.

     He’s out and he’s coming for you.

     Bradford turned to you, his chest rising and falling. He looked so…resolved. Like he did when chasing down a suspect or that time when you’d walked in on him in the training rooms.

     Images of Tim shirtless, the muscles in his back tight as he pushed himself harder filled your head and you quickly shook them away. Definitely not the time. 

   “We’ll send a surveillance team to Paul’s location in the morning,” Grey said, turning to address you. “But for now the best thing you can do is to go home, get some sleep, and not let this rattle you. Understood?”

     “Yes, Sergeant.”

     “Good. Because the last thing the L.A.P.D needs is a cop who lets their personal life get in the way of their ability to do their job in any way that’s less than exemplary. I trust that’s not the case?” 

     You glanced to Bradford, certain he was going to mention your mistake with the suspect earlier. 

     “No, Sir,” Tim said instead. “My rookies don’t do ‘less than exemplary’. Don’t worry about (Y/l/n)—she’s proved to me she has what it takes to be an officer.”

     “Glad to hear it. Shift over. Everybody else, back to work,” Sergeant Grey waved everyone away. 

     You walked towards the front of the room, hearing grumbled complaints about midnight shift from the unlucky officers who still had to do patrol as you did so. 

     You stopped in front of your TO. His eyes were on you, his brow drawn in something that looked like concern.

     “Thanks,” you said. You couldn’t believe he’d told Grey all that—it was the most complimentary thing he’d said about you in your whole time riding with him. 

     “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” Tim stated, shrugging. “I expect you to live up to any praise I’ve given you.”

     “Yes, sir,” you nodded, almost smiling.

     “Besides, you’re being trained by me. You’d have to be royally screwed up not to become one of the best on the force.”

     “And he’s humble too,” you teased. “But I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

     “Whatever, Boot.” Tim smiled, shaking his head. 

     “Be nonchalant all you want,” you said, feeling brave. “I know you like me.”

     For a brief moment, Tim looked like you’d slapped him. But then, the flash of—whatever that was—was gone and his expression was replaced by one of cold indifference. 

     “In your TO not your friend, (Y/l/n),” he stated. “It’s not about liking you. It’s about training you.”

      You sighed inwardly. Just when you thought you were making ground with Tim, he treated you like you’d just met. “Of course, how could I forget.”

     Tim stayed silent. 

    “Well, I should head out,” you told him, “I’ve got a busy night ahead me. You know, trying not to get killed by my ex and all.”

     You’d meant it as a joke, to make light of the situation that left you feeling more uneasy than you’d care to admit. Tim, however, just shook his head and brushed past you, out of the briefing room. 

     You stood there for a moment, trying to work through what had just happened, before turning around and taking a step in the other direction. Only to find Officers Lopez and Bishop standing in front of you, staring between you and Tim’s retreating figure. 

     “So how’d you do it?” Bishop looked you up and down.

     “Do what?” You asked, confused. 

     “Get Tim wrapped around your finger,” Lopez answered for her, smirking. 

     You felt your eyes widen. “Tim’s not—” 

     “Please,” Lopez put her hands on her hips. “I’ve watched him train dozens of rookies and he’s never stood up for any of them like that. So naturally I figured you’re either blackmailing him or sleeping with him.”

     You blanched, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as you let what Angela said sink in. You knew she was just teasing you, but the statement caught you off guard. You imagined you and Tim—together. It wasn’t necessarily an unpleasant thought. And then you realized what you were thinking and you chided yourself, hurriedly un-imagining it. 

     “No, that’s not—neither one of those things,” you answered quickly. “Trust me, Tim doesn’t give me any special treatment, if that’s what you’re implying. I actually can’t tell if he hates me half of the time.”

     “We’re not implying anything,” Bishop replied. “Only observing. And he doesn’t hate you.”

     “How can you possibly know that?” You were suddenly insecure. You still held on to a secret dread that you were going to wildly disappoint Tim—that you already had. Sure, there was all the stuff he had just said. But there was also months of him being hard on you and saying that you weren’t friends. 

     “Because I’ve seen him hate plenty of people,” Bishop spoke. “And he definitely didn’t look at them the way he looks at you.”

      The way Tim looked at you? You weren’t aware he looked at you in a way that was different from the way he looked at anyone else at the station.

     “What are you guys trying to say?” You asked them. 

     “I’m saying watch out,” Bishop raised an eyebrow. “Because Tim might like you more than he’s willing to let you—or himself—in on.”

     Could there be any truth to what the two officers were saying? Was it wrong for a small part of you to hope there was?

     “Um, ok,” you said, blinking. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

     “Don’t believe us if you want, it’s your call,” Bishop shrugged, backing up. “But I’m telling you, you mean something to Tim that the rest of us can only guess at.”

     And with that she walked out of the room.

    “Bishop can be intense,” Angela said when the woman was out of earshot. “She’s got that whole ‘anti-cops-dating’ thing going on—but I do think she’s right about this. Tim’s tough, and I’m sure he gives you hell—but it’s not because he doesn’t like you. I actually think it’s quite the opposite. ”

     Was there really something that everyone saw between you and Tim except for you? You still couldn’t even entertain the thought that Tim had feelings for you that were more than TO and rookie. 

     “Well you’ve certainly left me with a lot to think about,” you said finally.

     “Then I’ll let you start thinking—you’re welcome for the peace of mind.” 

     You wouldn’t have used the phrase peace of mind, yourself. Sure, it was nice to know that the officers who had known your TO for years were confident that he didn’t look down on you. But, this conversation also had left your head swimming with conflicting thoughts about Tim that you didn’t feel like dealing with right now.

     “And take care,” Lopez said knowingly. “We have your back if anything happens.”

      With that, your thoughts slammed back to the current situation.

    “Right, that. You—you think something’s going to happen?” You asked, trying to sound casual.

     “I think in this job we have to be prepared for the worst,” she corrected. “But I also think that bastard would have to be pretty stupid to mess with you.”

     She smiled at you and you smiled back. After watching her leave, you followed her path, heading towards the locker rooms.

     You thought about what she had said about you and Tim, about Paul.

     You hoped she was right—you just couldn’t say which you hoped she was more right about.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     Your thoughts bounced between your conversation with Talia and Angela and the message from your ex as you walked to your car minutes later. 

     When you woke up this morning, you thought the most stressful part of your day would’ve been a police chase or a shootout.  You never would’ve expected it to be my ex-boyfriend is out of jail and could be hunting me down and my training officer might have feelings for me.

     Funny how things could change so fast.

     Suddenly, you heard a bang. You spun around quickly, your heart in your throat. But it was only a car door being slammed shut from across the parking lot. 

     Get a grip, you told yourself. 

     You rounded the corner, running a hand through your hair.

     You stopped. Tim was leaning against the side of your car, arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked you up and down.

     “What are you doing?” You asked. 

     “Driving you home, Boot,” Tim said. “Get in the car.”

     “Tim, you don’t have to—”

     “That wasn’t a question, give me the keys.”

     There was no point in fighting him. Besides, there was a small part of you that didn’t really want to fight him. 

     You tossed him the keys to your car and got in the passenger seat with a sigh.  

     Tim started the engine. 

     “If this is about Paul, this really isn’t necessary,” you said after you’d been driving for several minutes and the silence became too much. “I can handle myself. I am an officer, in case you forgot.”

     “You’re a rookie,” Tim corrected, eyes never leaving the road. “And if the department won’t do anything, then I will.”

     “What—we’re not going to go looking for him, are we?” You asked.

     “Of course not,” Tim scoffed. “I’m not a vigilante, Boot. Where do you live?”

     “Take a left at the light,” you guided. 

     Neither of you talked for the remainder of the drive, save your occasional directions. When you pointed out your apartment building, Tim parked the car and handed you the keys. 

     “Thanks,” you mumbled to him as you got out of the car, grabbing your bag and heading towards the building.

     You heard a door shut behind you and turned to find your TO standing on the sidewalk, an eyebrow raised.

     “You didn’t think I was just going to let you spend the night alone with a target on your head, did you, Boot?” 

     “Tim—”

     “No more protests,” he said firmly. “As your TO, I—”

     “No, I was just going to say that if you were planning on staying here, why couldn’t I have just driven my own car?”

     “I don’t let my rookies drive,” Tim walked past you and to the front door. “Even off-duty.”

     You followed him quickly, getting out your key and letting you both in.

     When you reached your apartment you did a quick scan of the space—it wasn’t exactly like you’d been expecting company, much less your training officer. You cringed at the messiness.

      “How many entrances and exits are there?” Bradford asked. 

     “Um, just the front door. And there’s windows in the kitchen and the bedroom,” you said. 

     You skimmed past everything in the place, looking towards the window in your bedroom. Your eye caught on one of your bras hanging from your bedpost. You quickly ran over and shut the door, blushing and hoping Tim hadn’t noticed.

     “Please, Boot,” Tim made a face. “It’s nothing I haven’t already seen before.”

     “Ok no offense, but I usually don’t let guys see my bra the first time I bring them to my place,” you joked.

     “If that’s an offer, I’m going to have to politely decline.”

     “What—no,” you hurried out, worried your voice sounded wrong. “I just meant—”

    Tim interrupted. “I’m going to do a sweep of the place, make sure everything’s as it should be.”

     “Is that really needed?”

     “I’m not taking any chances.” He left the room and you sunk down onto the couch, letting your bag fall to the floor. 

     Your TO returned a few minutes later. “All clear.”

     “See, everything’s fine,” you said, speaking just as much to yourself as you were to Tim. 

     “Well,” Bradford started, amusement in his eyes. “I wouldn’t say everything is fine. Your storage closet’s a fire hazard.”

     Had Tim Bradford just made a joke?

     “I’ll be sure not to exit through the closet in the events of a fire,” you said sarcastically. “And if you keep insulting my living space, I’m going to be forced to kick you out.”

     “Bold for someone whose career I could end.”

     “You can’t end my career for that,” you shot back. Paused. “Can you?”

     Tim raised his eyebrows.

     “Only one way to find out,” you said enthusiastically, teasing him now. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t let the closet trap you on the way out.

     “Nice try, Boot. But you’re still stuck with me for,” Tim checked his watch. “eight hours.”

     “Nine hours,” you corrected. You had to leave for work in nine hours.

     “You’re right, I should get us drinks,” Tim joked.

     You rolled you eyes and he shot you a look. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

     Tim got up, disappearing into the kitchen.  

     “Is all you own ginger ale, Boot?” He called. 

     “There’s six year old tequila in the cupboard,” you suggested.

     “Ginger ale it is.”

      Tim joined you in the living room again, carrying two bottles. He handed one to you, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch. 

     You noted the careful distance he put between you. 

     “What’s this thing made of, Boot? Plywood?” Tim asked, inspecting the couch.

     You smothered a laugh.

     “Get comfortable. It’s where you’re sleeping,” you answered. 

     “Won’t be necessary. If you’re not awake you’re not aware.”

     “So, what, we’re taking shifts on guard like this is a stakeout?” You asked.

     “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t come here to sleep.”

     “Tim I can’t let you stay up all night while I’m unconscious.” you sighed.

     “You can if it’s an order. Besides, no offense, but rookies are historically less vigilant and have a slower response time…” 

     You tried not to take offense at that. “Right, Eagle Eye.”

     Tim glared at you. 

     “Angela told me.”

     “Of course she did. And at least I didn’t leave valuable evidence on the street to chase after a dog wearing a top hat.”

     “Sparky could’ve been involved in the crime,” you said, indignant. “And that was one time!”

     “One time too many,” Tim mumbled, lifting the bottle to his lips, his eyes sparkling. 

     “Ok, so when you were a rookie you were, what, perfect?” You shot back.

     “Damn straight.” Tim nodded. 

     “You made no mistakes, at all?” You prompted.

     “Well,” Tim took a sip of his drink. “There was one thing.”

     “Aside from the graffiti incident?”

     “That wasn’t a mistake because it wasn’t my fault. I was following direct orders and—you know what, never mind. If you don’t want to hear it—”

     “No, no, I do!” you scooted towards the edge of your seat in anticipation. “And none of that ‘I worked too hard and too efficiently’ crap.”

     “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sarcastically. “My first week on the job I was put on paperwork duty, which was—”

     “Boring and tedious? I can imagine,” you deadpanned, having been put in charge of paperwork by Tim many times.

     “I was going to say necessary and a valuable skill to have,” Bradford corrected. “But anyways, we had just got done booking a couple suspects and I was working on the reports. A triple homicide and a prostitution case. It was a long day and I was tired and I guess I got sloppy—”

     “You? Sloppy?” You interrupted.

     “Do you want me to tell you this story or not?”

     “Right, sorry. Continue.”

     Tim did. “I’d just finished tagging the evidence for both cases and when I was filling everything out I somehow got the numbers mixed up. Long story short, according to my report, the homicide gun ended up being linked to the prostitution case and the weapon allegedly used in the triple homicide was…a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs.”

      You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you now.

     “Forensics caught it before it was sent to the judge, thank god,” Bradford sighed. “But the next day when I was getting ready for my shift, I was greeted by dozens of similar handcuffs in my locker—apparently Smitty has a guy.”

     “Tell me you kept them,” you begged, pulling your knees up to your chest.

     “Of course not!”

     Tim blinked.

     “Well, not all of them—Isabel made me take a pair home. I found out later that she was the one who orchestrated the whole prank. She used to do stuff like that all the time before she, uh,—”

     “Tim—”

     You’d heard about Bradford’s ex-wife. How she’d become an addict, gotten herself mixed up with bad people. You knew how much it had affected Tim, even if he hadn’t said so. 

     She was in rehab now, getting her life back together. You were glad she was finally getting the help she needed. Still, you knew how much she meant to Tim. How much it had hurt him to move on from her and let her start a new life without him. 

     “I’m fine.” Tim said firmly, clearing his throat. “It’s good to talk about her…before. She’s on the right path now.”

     You stared at the ground in front of you, picking at your fingernails. 

     “Are you still in love with her?” The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it. You didn’t know why you asked—didn’t know why you cared what the answer was. Ten minutes ago you wouldn’t have even dared to ask that question.  

     But he was being so uncharacteristically open and you seemed to be getting along well. You reluctantly brought your eyes up to Tim.

     His eyes had gone wide. He looked like he wanted to leave or yell at you or both, and you immediately regretted it.

     But then his eyes softened and he opened his mouth. “No. I’ll always care about her and she’ll always be someone that I did love. But relationships change—people change.”

     You nodded. “I get it—I mean, I’m kind of rusty on relationships—but I get it. I actually haven’t dated anyone since Paul. I guess it was just hard to trust someone after that. I kind of sabotaged any relationship that had any chance of starting.”

     It was the first time you’d admitted that to anyone. You wouldn’t have pegged Tim as being so easy to talk to. You had almost forgotten about the whole Paul situation before you’d just brought him up. You had been enjoying hanging out with Tim, no matter the circumstances. He was actually pleasant to be around when he wasn’t on the clock. 

     You imagined this happening more often—you and Tim, not just coworkers but friends. Maybe even more. Maybe this was one relationship you didn’t have to end before it started.

     You dared to let yourself think about it. You watched Tim process your words. Saw the emotion clearly written in his face as he looked at you intensely. 

     “Hey, thanks again for not letting me be alone tonight,” you told him, you’re voice soft. 

     “Don’t take it personally, Boot,” he said. “My house is being repainted and even your place beats breathing in paint fumes all night.”

     “I’m honored,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “But you have to admit this has been fun—hanging out.”

     Your little impromptu sleepover. You smiled.

     Tim, however, looked like a switch had been flipped inside of him. You watched as he clenched his jaw, leaning almost imperceptibly away from you 

     “Listen, Boot—”

     He was cut off by the sound of breaking glass and a loud thumping sound. 

     You both shot up off the couch, abandoning your drinks. Tim’s hand went to his gun. You did the same. 

     Tim turned to you. “Stay here.”

     “Like hell,” you shot back, following him as he started to do a sweep of the main room.

     If that sound was someone—Paul—breaking in, you weren’t going to sit here and let Bradford fight your battles for you. 

     He signaled to let you know he was moving to the kitchen. You nodded, following. 

     “Clear,” he muttered, and moved on towards the bathroom. You were right behind him when you heard another noise, like the muffled sound of scraping of furniture, and you spun around.

     The bedroom. It was the only room in that direction that you hadn’t checked yet. 

     You glanced to Tim, but he hadn’t heard it. He was a few feet ahead of you, just now entering the bathroom. 

     You slowly stepped away from him and made your way across the apartment, down the hall and over to the closed bedroom door.

     Holding your weapon in one hand, you opened the door with the other. But, you barely had time to see what was on the other side before you were grabbed and a cloth was shoved into your mouth. 

     Your gun was ripped from your hand, and you were pushed hard onto the ground. Your wrist burned where you landed on shards of glass from the broken window

     Something smacked into the back of your head and you were dragged and thrown onto the bed on the corner. You heard the door shut. 

     Squinting up into the light, rubbing your throbbing head, your heart dropped as you saw who was in front of you. 

     “Did you miss me?” Paul sneered, spinning your gun in his hand. 

     You froze. Everything crashed into you at once. The events of the last time you saw your ex-boyfriend sped through your mind. Suddenly, you were scared and 18 again, at the mercy of this man. 

     “I guess you got my man’s message,” Paul continued. “Because you don’t exactly look shocked to see me. Scared, of course, but not shocked.”

     Coming back to yourself, you scrambled up onto your knees, ready to knock him out.

     Paul shook his head, laughing. “No, no. If you move even an inch I’ll shoot you right in the forehead.”

     You sat back down, your heart thumping in your chest as you scanned the room for a way out. Some way to get the upper hand on him. You had been trained for this.

     “Listen to me,” he continued, his hand coming to the gag in your mouth. You flinched away from him. “I know there’s someone in here with you. If you try to scream to alert them, I will also shoot you.  I’d like to play with you first before I put a bullet in your brain but, hey, I’m not picky. Is that clear?”

     You nodded, trying to measure how fast you could knock the weapon out of his hand before he could take a shot at you. Paul took the cloth out of you mouth.

     You gasped in air. “Backup’s going to be in here any second and then you’re going back to prison.”

     Tim would notice you were gone. He had to. 

     “Oh, I don’t think so,” Paul smiled. “I’ll be long gone and you’ll be long dead before that happens.”

     You glanced towards the door. What was taking him so long?

     Suddenly, Paul reached forwards and gripped your face in his hand. “Just as beautiful as I remember. It was such a shame things had to end with us as they did. How did that happen again? Oh, that’s right. You betrayed me.”

     “And that was the best decision I ever made,” you spat. 

     Paul backed up, shaking his head. “You’ve gotten feistier, baby. It’ll make this so much more fun for me.”

     He stepped back towards you, his face inches from yours, sneering. “This’ll be just like old times.”

     Bam! The door to your bedroom busted open. Bradford rushed in, taking in the situation. You breathed a sigh of relief.

     “Get down on the ground!” Tim growled.

     Paul froze for only a second, fear flashing across his face, but it was enough. You lunged, wrestling the gun out of his hands, your wrist protesting. 

     You trained it on him. Paul was surrounded.

     “You have five seconds to get on the ground before I shoot you,” Tim bit out, his expression murderous.

     “Come on, baby, you’re not going to let Officer Buzzkill treat me like that, are you?” Paul appealed to you. 

     You leveled your gaze on him, ignoring his words. “You heard him. Get on the ground.”

     Paul slowly knelt, never taking his eyes off of you. Tim charged him, pulling out handcuffs and locking them around his wrists. 

    You took a moment to be amused—of course Tim had off-duty cuffs. 

    “So this ends the way it starts, huh?” Paul shook his head. “You getting me locked up?”

     “Just like old times,” you echoed his earlier statement. You stayed stoic, putting your hands on your hips to hide the way they shook.

    Anger sparked in Paul’s eyes before he took on a smug expression. “You’re right. You’re the same girl you were when I met you. You haven’t changed a bit.”

     “Don’t listen to him, Boot,” Tim warned hauling the man up off the ground. 

     “You know I’m right,” Paul’s manic eyes bore into yours. He was enjoying every moment of this, laughter in his tone. It took all that was in you to keep your expression blank, unaffected. “You’ll always be that person I knew—the person who loved me. Because you did—love me. You could’ve walked away. But you didn’t. You just took it all like the victim you are. You pathetic bitch—”

      He was cut off abruptly as Tim slammed him face-first against the wall. Paul cried out.

     “That’s enough!” Tim shouted. “If you ever threaten—no, if you even look at (Y/l/n) again, I will hunt you down and personally remove every external limb from your body, do you understand me? (Y/n) is a million times the person you will ever be and you don’t get to make her feel small. If I didn’t think sitting in a cell for the rest of your life was a worse fate, I’d kill you right now—screw the department.”

     Your ears were ringing, your head dizzy as you tried to ground yourself. Your voice came out tiny. “Tim, stop.”

     Bradford turned to you, almost as if he had forgotten you were in the room. He was breathing hard, his fists clenched around the man in custody. 

     “And she’s not a victim,” Tim whispered, turning back to Paul, his voice right by his ear. “She’s a survivor.”

     With that, he shoved Paul back to the ground and moved over to you, his eyes roaming over your face. Your body. He took the gun out of your hands, setting it on the desk. Then, he gripped your injured wrist and you winced as he inspected it.

     “Probably hurts like hell, but you won’t need stitches. Any other injuries?”

     “Um, he hit me in the back of the head,” you felt your scalp, a lump already forming.

     Tim’s hands moved to your hair, his touch gentle, his breath on your cheek as he leaned to get a better look.

     Your own breath caught, your heart racing at the intimacy of your position. 

     “What’s the damage?” You almost whispered.

     Tim’s eyes met yours, the heat of his stare spreading through your body. “You’ll have a nasty bruise, but there’s no external bleeding.”

     Tim stepped back, and you found yourself wishing he hadn’t.

     “Are you—are you ok, Boot?” He asked carefully. 

     How did you even answer that question? You were still in shock, unable to process what had just happened. 

     “I will be,” you settled on, breathing in slowly. Exhaling.

      Tim looked like he wanted to say more but he clenched his jaw, glancing in the direction of Paul, who had been uncharacteristically silent. Maybe he had finally accepted his defeat. 

     “I’m going to call for back up, you go clean that up,” Tim gestured to the blood covering your wrist where you had landed in the broken glass. “You need help?”

     “No, I got it,” You nodded, walking towards the bathroom as you heard Tim make the call.

     “911, what’s your emergency?”

     “This is off-duty officer Tim Bradford, badge 34831. I need a unit to my location for a 126. Suspect in custody. Code 4.”

      Tim’s voice faded as you made your way down the hall, shutting the bathroom door after you to access the medicine cabinet behind it.

     You took out the necessary supplies and began cleaning the wound. You stopped in front of the sink, letting your burning eyes close for a moment, massaging your temples. 

     Now that you were alone, you let yourself collapse, bracing your hands against the counter 

     Images flooded your senses. 

     The gag. Paul hitting you from behind. You, young and frightened, huddled on the ground. That gleam in his eyes.

     Your eyes snapped open, your breath coming out fast.

     He’s in custody. You told yourself. He can’t hurt you anymore. 

     You looked at your reflection in the mirror staring wearily back at you, your hands still shaking as you brushed your hair back from your face. Was it hot in here or was it just you?

      Turning your attention back to your wrist, you took a deep breath and continued to dab at the wound.

      You reached for the bandages on the counter. A sheen of sweat broke out on your forehead as you wrapped your arm. 

      You pictured Paul’s grip on you. His words rang in your ears. 

     You’re the same girl you were when I met you. You haven’t changed a bit.

     The room tilted. You swayed on your feet so you sunk down to the ground, leaning your head against the cabinet, the cool wood pressing against your head. 

     You tried to slow your erratic breathing but you couldn’t. You couldn’t—

     The sound of footsteps and voices carried through the door. You were vaguely aware that it was probably the backup here to take Paul away.

     You closed your eyes, your throat tight, you pulse thundering in your ears.

     I’m ok, you tried to tell yourself. I’m ok. I’m ok.

     You were unaware how long you sat like this. You had no concept of time. Your thoughts were wild, images flashing in and out, unable to form conscious ideas. Every breath sending a sharp pain through your body. 

     “Boot?”

     The muffled voice was closer than the others had been. 

     “Boot?” The voice was louder now. You registered Tim at the door. He knocked once. Twice. 

     “Boot, I’m coming in,” he shouted, his voice laced with worry. The door was shoved open. 

     “Dammit,” he cursed, seeing your state. You felt him getting closer to you, but you didn’t look up as he knelt by you, his concerned expression taking in yours.

     “Hey, look at me,” Tim coaxed. “(Y/l/n), breathe.”

     He seemed miles and miles away. There was a pause.

     “Hey, Boot, I got another test for you,” he spoke quickly, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “I want you to tell me the most annoying person we work with.”

     “What?” You rasped, barely hearing him. 

    “Bishop’s an easy target,” he said. “And Lopez is a slob, so you can’t go wrong there. West’s got the whole daddy issues thing. Don’t even get me started on Nolan—”

     You swallowed hard, your mouth feeling dry.

     “And then there’s me. I mean, I’m annoying right?”

     You breathed a shaky laugh, opening your eyes slowly. 

     Tim smiled. “Oh so you agree? It’s ok, Boot, you can say me. Go ahead, I can take it.”

     When you didn’t say anything, Tim kept talking. “Personally I’d go for Detective Coleman. The man makes double what I do and I’m convinced he doesn’t own a decent looking tie.”

     “L-like the—the green one from last week,” you managed, trying to slow your breathing.

     “Leprechauns would call it tacky,” Tim agreed. “Now, since we’ve discussed this from all angles I’m going to need you to choose wisely. Because this is going to go on your evaluation for today.”

     You gulped. “Are—are you going to get me fired if I say you?”

     Tim let out a quiet, relieved laugh. “I knew it. Guess who’s going back to long-sleeves on Monday?”

     “In this heat wave? You—you wouldn’t dare,” you joked, sniffing.

     “I don’t know, I am the most annoying person you work with—sounds like something I might do.”

     You laughed again, this time the sound coming out less strained. You focused on taking deep breaths, feeling your heart rate return to normal. 

     “There you go.” Tim stood up, offering his hand to you for the second time that day. You gripped his arm as he pulled you up onto shaky legs.

     “Thanks,” you mumbled, embarrassed to have had your TO see you like this now that your head was clearer. 

     “For what, doing my job?”

     You smiled weakly at him, running a hand along your forehead. “Sorry for um—”  

     “Having a normal reaction to a highly emotional situation? Don’t apologize for being human,” Tim said firmly, his forehead creased.

     “So, he’s gone?” You’re voice came out small.

     Tim’s expression softened. “He’s gone.”

     You nodded again, looking at the floor.  Tim sighed, reaching an arm out. “Come here.”

You took a step towards him and then you were in his arms, his embrace strengthening you as he rubbed your back. You stood there like that, not wanting this to end. Not wanting to put distance between you again. Finally, he pulled back and looked down at you, his gaze weighted, before taking a few steps towards the door. You looked over Tim’s shoulder.

     “Hey, (Y/n), look at me.” Tim said. You brought your gaze up to meet his. “He is never going to hurt you again, ok? I’ll make sure of that.”

      You let your eyes fall closed, feeling ashamed that you had been so affected. That Tim had to handle all of this for you. “I know. And I’ll understand if after…all this, you don’t see me fit to—to be a police officer anymore.”

     Tim’s eyes hardened, his voice hardening with them. “With all do respect, Boot, that’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. I meant every word of what I said back there—you’re a survivor. All I saw tonight is that you are a brave and intelligent woman who just so happens to have a scumbag of an ex-boyfriend. Don’t let it define you because then he wins. You’re a great cop, (Y/l/n). It’s rookies like you who make the force as strong as it is.”

     You listened to Tim speak. He sounded so…passionate. Bishop’s words came back to you.

     Tim might like you more than he’s willing to let you—or himself—in on.

     You desperately wanted that to be true, now more than ever. He’d been so kind to you in this past hour—staying with you, rescuing you, reassuring you, bringing you back from whatever dark place you had just been in. 

     And then this. Talking about you like he…like he really cared about you. And maybe it was just because he felt like as your training officer he had to protect you. But in the moment, it felt like maybe it could be more than that. 

    “So what I’m hearing is, I’m getting a promotion?” You teased finally, brushing your hair back from your damp face, breaking the silence. 

     Bradford put up a hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, you still have a lot to learn from me.”

     You sighed. This was normal, this was comfortable. How you and Tim always acted with each other. You were both relieved and disappointed at the change back into familiar territory. 

     You ran a hand through your hair, stifling a yawn. Saying today had been a long day would’ve been the understatement of the century.

     “Now come on,” Tim flicked his head in the direction of the door. “It’s way past my bedtime.”

     “Let me guess, nine p.m. sharp every night?” You teased.

     “That’s not true.”

     You raised an eyebrow at him.

     “Nine-thirty,” he admitted. 

     You giggled, following Tim out of the bathroom and into the hallway which led to the living room.

     You glanced at your bedroom as you passed it, trying not to think about what had happened in there. It was over now, you told yourself. 

     “Since my room is kind of a crime scene, I guess we’re both crashing out here,” you sighed, gesturing to the couch. 

      Silence filled the room and you immediately realized your mistake, cheeks flaming. 

     “Or, right, I guess you can go now. Danger’s over.”

     “Are you kidding?” Tim said. “And get to bed even later? I’m not going anywhere.”

     You stepped into the living room. You were glad Tim was staying. You felt safer with him here, even though you knew it was irrational. 

     “I’ll get the blankets and stuff,” you said, turning back the way you’d came.

     “Let me go with you,” Tim offered.

     “I would but they’re in the closet and I don’t want it to trap you or something,” you said. 

     “You think I can’t take a closet full of your crap? Bring it on,” Tim challenged and you led him down the hall. 

     A few minutes later you returned to the living room, blankets and pillows in tow. Tim helped you pull out the couch bed—you were grateful you’d opted for this couch instead of a regular one—and you stood back, admiring your work. 

     “Take the couch,” you told him. “It was your bed originally.”

     “Not gonna happen.” Tim crossed his arms. “It’s your house. And you’re injured.”

     “I’m fine. And where are you going to sleep? The floor?” You asked him. 

     Tim scanned the room and then sat down on the chair across from the couch-turned-bed. 

     “Are you sure you’re ok on that?” You asked. It didn’t exactly look comfortable for spending hours on.

     “Trust me, Boot, you got the short end of the stick. Have fun sleeping on plywood.” 

      You smiled. “So, what, you’re just going to sit over there and watch me sleep?”

     “I can leave, if you’re—”

     “No,” you’re voice came out faster and more sharp than you’d intended. “I mean, you came all this way, I don’t want you to have to get an Uber home at this hour.”

     You climbed into bed, aware that you were still in your clothes, but not caring enough to change. 

     “We should get some sleep, it’s been a long night,” Tim sighed. He got up and turned the lights off, darkness filling the room. 

     “Damn, boot,” you heard Tim’s voice even though you couldn’t see him anymore. “It’s pitch black in here. You don’t sleep with a light or anything?”

     “Well I don’t usually sleep in my living room,” you pointed out. Then you stifled a laugh. “Wait a minute. Is Officer Tim Bradford afraid of the dark?”

     Tim scoffed. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

     “Your secret’s safe with me,” you teased.

     “There is no secret,” Tim shot back.

     You winked. “Exactly.”

     “You’re impossible.”

     “Thank you.” You smiled.

     The room fell silent. You heard him sit back down. 

     You laid back, staring up at the ceiling. The seconds ticked by. 

    “Do you—do you think he really would’ve shot me?” You asked, finally.

     “I don’t know,” Tim admitted. “He clearly thought you guys had unfinished business. But guys like that get high on fear—on desperation. He couldn’t have that if you were dead. In his mind, he’d be losing his power over you.”

     He paused. 

     “Besides, I don’t think he would’ve gotten the chance,” Tim said. “He clearly underestimated the badass-ness of his opponent.”

     You snorted. “Did you just say ‘badass-ness’?”

     “It’s a word!” Tim defended. 

     You laughed, turning over on your side. 

     “But seriously, if you ever need anything, you can always talk to me,” Tim said, sounding earnest. “I mean it.”

     “I may just take you up on that,” you responded. “Do you tell that to all your rookies?”

     You could barely make out Tim’s frame in the dark. “No, not all of them.”

     “I’m going to take that as I’m special,” you said. 

     Your next words were out of your mouth before you could stop them.   

    “You know, Lopez and Bishop had this crazy idea that you had feelings for me,” you said, staring up at the ceiling. “But I told them it was just that—crazy.”

     Tim didn’t speak.

     “It is crazy right?” You asked. You had to know. He still was silent. “Right?”

     “Boot, look—” Bradford started. His voice came out rough, as if he hadn’t talked in days. Your heartbeat was a deafening roar in your ears. 

     “Tim?”

     You could hear more than see Tim’s movements. He stood, pacing the length of the room. Sat back down. Stood up again. Sat. 

     “Dammit, Boot, I can’t do this,” he finished. “I can’t do this right now, (Y/n).”

     Your pulse quickened. He hadn’t denied it. 

     You stood up. 

     And maybe it was having to deny your attraction to your TO for seven months. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the attack earlier. Maybe it was because the darkness felt safe and secret—made you feel like you could do anything. Maybe you were just too eager after his small encouragement—or, lack of discouragement.

     But, whatever the reason, you walked over to where Tim sat, kneeled down, looked into his confused, strained eyes, and kissed him. 

     Tim froze, his lips still against yours. And then, almost as if he was afraid you would vanish or startle, he placed his hand gingerly on your waist, and leaned into the kiss.

     And he was kissing you back. Tim Bradford was kissing you back. 

     His free hand went to your hair, deepening the kiss as he gripped you closer. He kissed you like he had been waiting a lifetime.

     It was desperate and raw and passionate—it was perfect.

     You broke apart, both gasping for breath.       

     “Listen, Boot,” Tim started. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “You’ve had a long and confusing day—”

     You interrupted him. “Yeah. Yeah, I have. But I’m not confused about this.”

     You brought your lips to his again. This time he didn’t hold back. He pulled you closer to him and you felt the warmth of him through his shirt. 

     When you came apart again, he was smiling. 

     “Well, I guess I can check thinking that you hate me off my daily checklist,” you whispered. 

     “I don’t hate you, Boot,” Tim said. “I actually hate how much I don’t hate you.”

     You studied the planes of his face, the light from the hallway illuminating his eyes. His lips. His jawline.

     “Boot—”

     “If you’re going to say that this is a bad idea, I don’t want to hear it. Not tonight,” you said. 

     “I thought that was obvious.” Tim stated matter-of-factly. “I was going to say actually I’d appreciate it if you did turn on a lamp or something, because—”

     You laughed, kissing him again. 

     “But seriously,” Tim continued. “You know we can’t do this.”

     “Why not?” You pouted. “If it’s what we both want.”

     “It’s not about what we want—we could be putting both of our careers in jeopardy.”

     You knew he was right. Of course he was right. 

     “But is it—what you want?” 

     “God yes,” Tim blurted, standing up, his voice strained. “It’s what I’ve wanted from the moment I started training you. Do you know how hard it’s been trying to put distance between us and deny every damn thing when all I wanted to do was—”

     He broke off, running a hand along his hair. 

     “Then do it.” Your heart pounded in your chest. “You’ll only be my TO for a few more months, we’ll just keep it a secret until then. No one has to know.”

     Tim looked at you. 

     “Ok you’re right, Bishop and Lopez will totally know something’s up,” you admitted.

     “I guess I’ll just have to transfer,” Tim joked.

     “What happened to ‘Tim Bradford finished what he starts’?” You asked.

     “Oh I intend to do just that,” Tim whispered. “Are we really thinking about doing this?”

     You thought about the consequences you could face—Tim could face—if it got out that you and your training officer were romantically involved. You knew it would be a huge risk—one that could get you cut from the program.

     You looked at Tim. He was watching you like he never wanted to let you go again. You thought about how long you’d wanted this, even if you didn’t fully know it until tonight.

     And the decision seemed clear.

     “Yeah,” you beamed. “Yeah I think we are.”

     He cupped your face in his hand, his fingers warm against the back of your neck. Your eyes closed against his touch. You felt comfort for the first time in hours.

     “You need rest,” Tim whispered and your eyes fluttered open. “As much as I’d love to do this all night.”

     You nodded, backing up towards your bed. Tim ran a hand through his hair again and then sat back down in the armchair.

    “What’re you doing?” You asked him.

    “Going to bed,” Tim answered, as if it was obvious. 

    “Get over here,” you gestured, rolling your eyes at him.

    “I was hoping you’d say that,” Tim smiled. 

     You climbed into bed beside him, pulling the covers over both of you.

     You lay your head on Bradfords chest. You could feel his heartbeat in your ear as you closed your eyes.     

    “You know, this will kind of be like doing undercover work—minus the threat of getting killed,” you said. 

     “I don’t know about that—I wouldn’t put anything past an angry Sergeant Grey.”

     “We’ll just have to be so in-character that we never find out,” you said. 

     “I’ll make sure to be extra tough on you next shift,” Tim agreed. 

     “And that’s different from any other day how?” You shot back, sitting up. 

     “Hey, training rookies is a sacred duty and I take that very seriously. If you think I’m going to throw your education out the window simply because—”

     You shut him up by pressing your lips to his. You echoed his earlier words. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

     Tim shook is head slightly, eyes roaming over your face. 

     “What?” You asked.

     “You’re so beautiful, (Y/n),” Tim breathed. “I’m so glad I can finally tell you that.”

     “Me too,” you said. “Even if it took…this for it to happen.”

     “Speaking of which, maybe I’ll take a sick day tomorrow,” Tim said. “Since there’s no way Grey—or myself—is letting you go to work. What’d you say?”

     You wanted to fight him, say you were fine and you could make it to your shift the next day. But the promise of taking a sick day with Tim was to tempting to pass up. 

     “I say I’m glad your house is being repainted,” you teased. “Because then you’ll have to stay with me.”

     Tim smiled knowingly. “My house isn’t being repainted, Boot. And I’m all yours.”

     You grinned, laying back down and resting your head back against Tim. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

     You felt safe, protected in his arms. 

     The rest would come. Dealing with what had happened tonight. Starting your secret relationship with Tim. Eventually facing everyone at work who had heard the news and would want to ask if you were ok. And you would be ok.

     But for now, this was enough. He was enough. 

     “Tim?” You whispered.

     “Hmm?”

     You struggled for words to fit the gravity of what you were feeling for him. “Thanks for…everything.”

     “What are TOs for,” Tim shrugged. 

     “Apparently keeping the night light business afloat.” You giggled at the look on Bradford’s face. 

     “Shut it, Boot.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed loves!! i’m so down bad for tim it’s not even funny 😵‍💫

[fulloflambing]

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ KINICH: ❝ HEAVEN CAN WAIT. ❞

pairing: kinich x afab!reader (uses she/her) synopsis: during the invasion of the abyss, the bond between you and kinich is put to the test when you're both lost in the chaos searching for eachother, as he fulfills his sacred duty as one of the heroes of Natlan. warnings: spoilers of the 5.1 archon quests! lots of bodily injury + descriptions of gore, the war ingame is described in a darker way here, cursing, many mentions of death. wordcount: 5.4k cho’s notes: PLS SRSLY LISTEN TO THE INJURY WARNING!! i might be a little dramatic but theres an injury here that made me geek when i was writing it idk. this is basically 5.4k words of me pretending to understand the mechanics of the ode of resurrection 😭 i was inspired to write this after playing the 5.1 aq! hope u guys enjoy this, happy reads <3

taglist: @sillywinnertidalwave

Today marked the exact moment the people of Natlan realized that the abyss weren’t just these noisy hilichurls you see camping in the meadows or the occasional mages you’d encounter in the caves; The Abyss was a ruthless cult of monsters with their uniform goal of bringing humanity to its demise.

‘It was never supposed to get this bad.’ was the only thought racing through Kinich's mind as he swung from cliffs to trees as fast as he could, the muscles in his arms feeling like they could rip apart if he swung one more time, his head slightly burning with exhaustion and heart racing with overwhelming pressure.

People were getting massacred on the ground underneath him, as numerous warriors and guards pushed themselves beyond their limit to fend off the neverending wave of rifthounds and hilichurls coming from the illuminating pylons—and he couldn’t do anything about it. Not when everyone and everything needed his aid, all at once.

But Kinich had someone to come home to, and it was you.

The last moment of peace the both of you had together was just earlier today; Sipping coffee and eating fruit together, discussing light subjects to try and distract each other from the rising attacks of the abyss, totally oblivious to the fact that Natlan would be dragged into war by them hours later. 

He felt like it was just a minute ago when you sat in front of him, and glowed under the sunlight, slicing apples intricately as your lips spilled words. ‘How could this happen?’ he thought.

The image of you smiling, your face full of faith pulsed in his mind, making his stomach twist when his eyes landed on the village of the Scions of the Canopy; it was on the brink of ruin.

Caravans and carts were being ripped open with the goods spilling onto the ground only to be squashed, children getting dragged by desperate parents, greedy businessmen clawing at their money hoping it would save them, and the scattered limp bodies of innocent natlanese. The sky loomed over everyone’s heads in an eerie color, only amplifying the hopelessness he rarely felt in his chest. The scent of blood and burning ash filled his nostrils the second he violently landed onto the oversized canopy, mildly hurting his ankles in the process.

“Y/n? Y/n!” He called out among the frenzy, his eyes darting to every face he could spot. He got on his heel and started running— desperate that you wouldn’t appear as one of the bodies that were left to rot on the ground. 

He raced to your house, and tried to push the door open with no luck. He had no time to care for it, and just slashed through it with his bulky claymore and bursted into the room, his eyebrows knitted together, pupils dilated, cold sweat on his nape. His eyes don’t spot you in your usual leisure spot of your common room, making his heart drop. He checked all other rooms, and finally opened your bedroom:

You weren’t there.

You weren’t anywhere.

His heart hurt with every beat, and he desperately clawed at his chest trying to get back his calm composure he was always known for. But what for?

“Just give it up, that peasant probably turned into abyss food long before you even got here. Stop wasting your time, my time!” Ajaw suddenly hissed out, his words filling kinich’s mind with poison.

Imaginations of your body growing limp and cold, face turning blue, and blood oozing out from some part of your body as rifthounds dug through your flesh flashed through his head. And he tried to stop it. But with the spinning of his head and the lifelessness of your house that was once so full with your laughter, it just kept getting worse.

He stood with a lowered head, his hand gripping his claymore so tight his knuckles turned white. He fought back tears as his mind danced like a kaleidoscope. To him, there would be no use in saving Natlan, if you weren’t in the picture.

He was supposed to not let his will in defeating the abyss sway at all, you wouldn’t want that. No one would want that. He doesn’t either. But now faced with the odds that you might not be able to experience a Natlan that is finally free from centuries of prejudice, after you’ve been by his side telling him to have faith that the day will come, and the dreams you want to accomplish when everything is finally okay— It seemed unfair. SO unfair.

He whispers to himself, or rather to anything who was willing to listen, with a shaky voice: “If only one wish of mine can be granted for my whole lifetime, please.. Keep her safe. That’s all I ask.”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The clashing of weapons against the shelled skin of the abyss monsters zipped through the air, as you swiftly dodged the claws of a relentless rifthound; you’ve been doing this for hours now.

You were helping your tribe, the Scions of the Canopy, strengthen its defenses before the outbreak until you were called by a messenger to help strengthen defenses of an adventurer’s base southeast of the village as it was being easily overwhelmed by the enemies. As the head of preparing defenses from the village, you happily obliged.

But now you were almost hours into battle, with your body aching in all different spots, as you tried your best to continue evading the insistent attacks of numerous monsters. You couldn’t find the energy to swing your sword with maximum strength anymore, so all you could muster up was to dodge them.

“Fuck! Will you ever quit!?” you yell, before pushing yourself beyond your limits again, attacking with frustration. You slashed through the tough skin of the rifthound with your dendro-infused blade, making it dissipate into purple smoke with a screeching growl before fading into the air.

You had a second for a breather and  took a deep breath, which you regretted immediately. “ugh!” you cried, falling to your knees, grabbing your side. You recall the moment you heard something snap when a hilichurl swung its wooden baton at your side when you were busy confronting a different monster. You broke your rib, and it was now piercing your lung.

You stared into the dirt, forehead collecting sweat. You took your hand off of your side, seeing blood paint your palm a deep scarlet. You touched your forehead, and brought your hand back to your eyes— You were bleeding. everywhere.

Your eyes sting with tears, the reality of the situation slowly setting into your head— The chances of you leaving this battlefield alive was slim. Your teeth press against your bottom lip tightly, the pain being incomparable to the injuries you’ve sustained. 

‘I’m sorry kinich.’ echoed in your mind. Kinich had been training you recently, for you to be ready in case of an invasion and he wasn’t there to protect you. But here you are, head-first onto the ground, realizing you’ll probably die in the next few minutes.

‘I’m sorry kinich.. I’m not built for this.’ you whimpered, tears slowly trickling down your face. You felt so heavy with hopelessness, you felt like you could start sinking into the solid dirt beneath your body.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. You were only supposed to continue helping people fend off the abyss for a few more days, until the Pyro Archon solved the crisis. And after she did, you would’ve explored places outside of Natlan with Kinich. Sumeru was the first region you both agreed to visit; It was always a dream that you shared together to travel all of Teyvat one day. Hell, you even had a hunch he’d propose to you somewhere down the line of your voyage. 

So why are you kneeling on the floor, bleeding from every possible corner of your body, accepting your demise as your comrades slowly thin in number?

‘How long do I have to keep this up? I feel like if I swing my sword one more time, my arms will come flying off. I can’t do it anymore. This is something only strong people can do. Strong people like kinich. I can’t. I just can’t. I ca-’

Woosh!, Your ears picked up the sound and you jumped to your feet, barely escaping the blade of an enormous mitachurl that almost claimed your head. 

You tumbled lightly onto the ground, before you hold your sword up again with both your hands, your limbs trembling hopelessly in the gaze of the towering monster over you with demonic horns. You almost drop your blade and just let it kill you right then and there. 

But kinich appeared in your thoughts.

The mitachurl was standing the way the dummy kinich built for you was. Kinich’s voice instructing you rippled in your thoughts: “swing your sword down to the left, diagonal to the body. Then, slice up to the right, also diagonally. For the final blow, strike straight down the crown of its head, taking force from your shoulders. ”

You listen to kinich on repeat a few times, drawing imaginary lines on the body of the scowling mitachurl that stomped closer to you. You gulped the lump in your throat, before you did exactly what kinich taught you.

You twist your body with your edge in the air, taking a (painful) deep breath before swinging your blade to the left in a declining path. The mitachurl stumbles back at your sudden strike making an mmgh! sound, breaking down some of its armor. You quickly slice back up in the opposite direction before it could react any further. Your shoulder burned with every twist, but you had to keep going.

As it stumbled one more time, You bring your weapon above your head, and ignite it with dendro, causing a deep green aura to emit from your person. You meet eyes with the monster; It looked horrified. You stood there ready to take its life, appearing like a monster yourself with the blood that dripped down your head, your eyes seething with revenge.

You spare no more time before completely slicing straight down its head with maximum precision. A loud growl slowly faded with the noise, just as its body did, turning into a dark smoke. 

“If my life is going to end with this battle, then please grant my final wish—” You whispered, looking at your blood-stained hands, hoping the heavenly principles could hear your wish among the deafening sound of war:

“—Please.. Keep kinich safe for me.”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The people seeking refuge in a temporary hideout turn their heads at the noise of their beloved heroes walking into the space. ‘Baraka’ Xilonen, ‘Umoja’ Mualani, ‘Uwezo’ Iansan, ‘Bidii’ Ororon, and ‘Vuka’ Chasca. There was only one more hero missing.. ‘Malipo’ Kinich.

Kinich had just rounded up civilians he saved from the village, and brought them there for safety. His gaze met with his friends, before he carefully placed a baby he was protecting into the arms of its mother— The baby had your eyes, which gravitated him into holding it just a little longer. He walked over to them with heavy steps, still trying to keep his composure despite the pain weaving his insides; just like them. 

“It’s the final phase of mavuika’s plan. We have to get back to the stadium, and help her with the Ode of Resurrection.” Xilonen says. “Can you do it?” 

It’s not like he had any other choice so he just nodded, not being able to muster up the strength to talk.

“Kinich.. Did something happen?” Mualani asked, taking notice of his silence as she placed her hand on his shoulder in support. It was clear she was just as broken down as he was, covered in bruises and scratches. But she continued to stay strong and pulled an empathetic look for him, trying to get his lowered eyes to meet hers.

“I.. couldn’t find y/n.” Kinich barely mumbled, the dread he felt earlier coming back to him, feeling like it only got worse verbalizing it. His eyes stuck to the ground, refusing to peel away.

The five heroes suddenly feel the air grow thick, a gasp leaving Iansan and Mualani's lips. This reaction only made the feeling worse, his fingertips digging into his palm. ‘Why does it have to turn out like this? I don’t fucking get it. It’s unfair. Not fair. Not fair to me, to her.’

The five struggled to find words to say, but ajaw quickly filled the space, spitting out: “Fear not lowly humans! For when Kinich finally slips in this final fight and accidentally ends up kicking the bucket, I, the almighty dragonlord, k’uhul ajaw! Will reign over this world once more! And the abyss will no longer be the biggest threat Natlan has faced!” The 8-bit monster laughed proudly with its jagged voice.

Kinich suddenly snapped at the puny dragon: “Zip it ajaw. Let’s go.” before stepping out of the hideout. The heroes gave each other glances, before silently following after him. They weren’t scared of kinich releasing ajaw, they knew kinich would never do that to them. But it was him they were worried about.

Kinich never handled loss well. It often resulted in.. Accidents. Towards himself.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You continued to fight your way to survival, the dendro vision hanging by your hip flashing every few seconds. You shifted your focus to destroy nearby pylons. Your hands had bruised, and slowly became callused and firm. The amount of blood loss you’ve endured has slowly started affecting you too, as your actions started getting sloppier, following your sight getting hazy from time to time.

‘Ching!’ You sliced through the last mitachurl around— atleast, last one before another one spawns—and fell to your battered knees. You sat there, gasping, your body begging for air. 

“Y/n!” a fellow comrade called out, rushing to your side. You can hear him mumbling something to you, but it’s incoherent. You looked at your dirty, bloodied hands, ‘what an ugly sight.’  

“Just.. keep pushing on y/n.” his words sound muffled to you and almost accompanied with sand; he’s losing hope too. 

Without warning, a bright beam of light suddenly shot up into the air, emerging from somewhere in the distance.

‘Huh?’ You look up.

The ray of light exploded into a star, making you wince at the glare. The explosion was so grand, you felt the earth tremble all around you, and even felt a slight radiance of heat reach your skin, even when it was suspended so close to the stars.

The warriors and monsters’ brawl comes to a pause, all beings turning their heads to the magic unfolding above their heads.

You look back up once more. It’s the Pyro Archon.

“In the name of the Pyro Archon, Haborym,” the transcendent voice sends chills down your spine.

“I declare the Night Warden Wars underway—”

“—The Ode of Resurrection will guard all life, until the war is over!”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich might’ve lost his mind.

With the Ode of Resurrection, there was nothing in his way to contain the blood rushing through his veins anymore, the flame pumping his drive. There was no limit to the blood he could pour, no limit to the bones he could snap, no limit to the wounds he could take; There was no more life that kept him from death, and no death to threaten him to life. 

He shot himself through the trees and cliffs and plunged into the ground, slashing right into an abyssal pylon, immediately shattering it into pieces. The abyss that caught sight of his unhinged eyes,  became the last thing they saw. He swung his blade relentlessly, calculated with maximum precision embedded into every strike. Every blow he landed would end a life point-blank, not wasting a single movement. No monster could keep up with the speed of his assault, their death delivered to them in a blur.

A hilichurl had taken an open opportunity to stab him right through the heart from behind. He felt the flame inside him flicker for a second.

‘Again.’

He ripped the double sided polearm right out of his chest, before skewering the same hilichurl right through its chest with the same weapon. A cryo mage quickly sent icicles to penetrate through his limbs and vital organs. He felt the coldness pierce into his insides, feeling the flame inside him flicker for a second time.

‘Again.’

He swiftly turned around, and spun his claymore right into the mage, beheading it in the process. The mage had evaporated to its death, as his claymore spun right back into his palm, snug as a glove. A hilichurl decided to charge into his tall figure and stab him with a dagger, puncturing his abdomen. His flame flickered for the third time.

‘Again.’

He sliced down on the hilichurl, making it dissipate into the air with a groan. He pulled out the dagger from his body and carelessly threw it onto the ground. Noticing the area was clear, he flung himself back into the air, swinging himself through the thick trees and long branches. They would momentarily graze his skin, cutting and wounding him but it was nothing to him, not anymore.

His void eyes scanned through the rocky terrain underneath his feet, searching for your figure. ‘You have to be here. Somewhere. Anywhere.’ His thoughts of you distracted him from an incoming tree, before flying straight into its tree branch, his body getting skewered in the process. He let out a loud cry of agony— “aaghh!”—, hearing static ringing in his ears. His bewildered eyes landed at exactly where he got impaled before feeling his head go fuzzy, his eyes slowly losing light, and his body going limp. He feels his flame flickering once more.

‘Again.’

Life is shot right back into him as he braced himself again, taking a deep breath, and pulling himself off of the tree branch. His injury immediately punished him, making him wince. He took one last look at the tree branch covered in his gore before swinging himself again. He looked at the gaping hole in his abdominal cavity slowly patch and fill itself again, and for a moment he’s completely mesmerized by the power of the ode of resurrection. 

In his mind, he punished himself for not being by your side, for not protecting you. And his mode of punishment would be feeling your misery over and over again. The sensation of burning pain ending up to his death just to wake up again completely alive again all in a split second was intoxicating. He was preserving life, as he toyed with his own. 

In his mind, he would rather die a million deaths than find out he’d be alive without you around.

“Listen to me bastard! I’m starting to appreciate this new thing you got going on, you know, like actually following your master, me, Almighty dragonlord, K’uhul Ajaw! and using your vision for something exhilarating like ending lives. But I HATE! how i’m getting excited to take your body everytime you go floppy, but you just wake back up! It’s so ANNOYING!! So just keep it up until the fire-head woman turns the ode of what-ever-you-call-it off, and you stay dead. Alright!?”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Mavuika looked longingly onto her people fighting for their nation underneath her feet, as she levitated in the dark sky. It was a surreal simulation to her; It was her that was the catalyst for their dreams and hopes. It left a deep impression of justice, duty and pressure on her. 

Mavuika took a deep breath, before feeling a surging power slither all throughout her body.

‘This has to end, now.’

She collected all the dreams her people have relayed to her, the hopes for a future guided with justice and equality, their ancestors and their prayers for Natlan, the lives of her beloved followers who had been sacrificed and martyred, into her fist and made it into her strength. 

Her hair ignited into its flamed form, as she shot out all the might and glory of Natlan into a beam of radiance, targeting the abyssal body that was the sole cause of terror over her nation. 

The Celestial body forms a temporary glowing shield to stand its ground, until it doesn’t.

It slowly starts shattering like thin glass, making her attack on it only more powerful. Her thrash breaks through until it exploded into a dark fume, her light piercing right through it and into the distant sky. The sky carries the sound of the thundering explosion, shaking nature all around.

The black cloud slowly starts fading, revealing the eradication of the Abyss.

The black sky lifts off of Natlan, revealing the blue once more. You choked out the blood that’s been pouring in your mouth for the longest time as you finally finish off the last creature in sight. The Abyss had been eliminated by the Pyro Archon, and no more would spawn. Dulled and scratched swords, torn bows, and unfortunate martyrs polluted the grassy field around. The noise of battle could still be heard somewhere distant but not around you anymore. 

You spat and coughed out blood onto your palm, your other hand clawing and digging into your chest trying to calm your rampaging heartbeat. You heard your remaining comrades cry and yell out of grief and solace. The words they yelled were incoherent, only being able to hear ringing. 

But you could almost make out what they're saying, somewhere along the lines of: ‘It’s over.’

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich’s eyelids slowly peel open, feeling the heat of the sun greet his eyes immediately making him wince. He sits up and tries to gain back his senses, letting out a sore groan.

Ajaw perches up at the sound, and starts roaring in his ear: “You were supposed to be dead! I was so thrilled to finally take over your cold body, finally thinking of the horrors I'd run to this land, just to find our contract not working! Just bite the dust already you useless asparagus! Curse the archons!”

“Wh-what happened?” Kinich croaked, his throat stinging him in the process. Completely ignoring ajaw’s tantrum, he looks at the nature around him; There were dismantled weapons, a few dead bodies scattered meters apart, and an awful lot of silence. 

“The fire-head woman destroyed the abyss in the sky, and the magical thing happening to your body that stopped you from dying stopped, and you just crashed into the mountain side and passed out onto the ground. Your head should’ve caved in! Fucking imbecile!” 

Kinich stares at the state of his body; It was a disaster. His jacket was torn with all sorts of holes, his arms full of scars and dried blood and smeared dirt, his gloved hands having numerous rips and tears. All of his digits were present, but a huge scar trailed over the joints of his thumb. ‘So I lost a finger huh?’ he guessed to himself. He looks at his headband dangling around his neck, and feels his face with his hand. He felt a few scars and winces at a cut he had, realizing he had a gaping wound that was actively bleeding out.

Body intact, clothes and weapon secured, with his heart beating in his chest cavity.

But something was still missing. Something was out of place.

He feels his heart drop to the ground, mumbling: “Y/n.”

He hurriedly turns around and tries to run on his feet, a sharp pain kicking into his legs making him fall back onto the soil. He curls into a ball, suddenly feeling all his muscles tormenting his body at once. He groans in pain, feeling parts of his body ache and burn under his skin.

“Yes! Perish!” Ajaw shrieks, making kinich swat at him. He takes a cramped breath— almost like the capacity of his lungs had shrunk— before digging his hands into the sharp blades of grass, dragging his body through the earth.

Each pull of his body made him wish he wasn’t human, pain electrocuting each living cell in his body. Grunts slipped through his teeth, as he tried not to notice the torture he had been enduring for what has felt like forever. He despised the pain he could feel as he crawled not because it hurt him, but because it was proof he was alive and could use his senses. That would remind him that you might not be, only making the weight of his chest heavier.

Red from his wound dripped down his head and slipped onto his lip, making him spit it out bitterly. 

The silvery of blood was inferior to the bitterness in his mouth if he felt your body without its heart beating against his own. Ajaw slowly follows him in the air a meter away, and is almost horrified. Ajaw that day, saw humanity in its most desperate state.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“Let me go!” You yelled, trying to break free from the arms of the other scions of the canopy. They had tried convincing you to go to the village and get your injuries treated, but they mentioned kinich was missing. You heard glass shattering in your ears, almost reality to your eyes breaking just the same. You escaped their captive and tried to find kinich, but they had caught up to you easily.

“You don’t understand! You might die out of blood loss before you even find him!” Said one of the nurses, gripping your wrist tightly. “I have to try!” You snapped, shoving and kicking at the men trying to get a holding of your legs.

“And what if kinich is dead y/n!?” A man retorted, making you freeze in your spot. Words got stuck in your throat, as your eyes blurred for a second. “Kinich would never.. be..” you feel your tongue stiffen, your knees slowly sinking back onto the grass. The men among the helpers quietly argue behind you, scolding each other with ‘don’t say that!’ as your thoughts slowly dim your spirit.

‘Kinich? Dead?’ the thought of kinich dying seemed so far and impossible to you. It was always kinich who seemed to prevent harm from going your way, and knew how to deal with injuries or how to get out of risky situations. But not even the strongest warriors of Natan's ancient tales survived against the toughest attacks of the abyss. You feel like vomiting, the imagination of kinich mangled body suddenly tormenting your thoughts. ‘I still have to try’, you interrupted yourself, reminiscing the oath you took between the both of you to never abandon his side, dead or alive.

You quickly try to pounce off of them, but they're quicker into getting ahold of you again. You try your hardest to tear through their grasp, feeling your skin ache as they tighten their hand around you.

“Please! Just let me try!” you cry out, almost freeing yourself. They object in volumes, a series of ‘No!’s and ‘You need to rest!’ leaving their mouths. You almost feel helpless, but the group of five freeze all together, out of nowhere.

Their eyes are wide, dilated. Their mouths agape, skin draining of color.

You turn your eyes the same direction as theirs, and a sudden chill waves all throughout your body.

It’s kinich.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich locks eyes with you, his breath hitching. Almost terrified you’ll disappear in front of his eyes, he doesn’t waste another second and sprints towards you on his feet, ignoring the sharp pain afflicted to his ligaments. The tribespeople quickly free you from their clutches, stepping back as your aching bodies collided into an embrace.

Everyone else disappears from his world as he takes you into his dirtied arms. His body melt into yours, leaving no space for the opportunity of separation between both of you ever again. He feels you trembling underneath his touch making him hold you tighter. “I’m home.” He whispers into your ear, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders, like bulky armor sliding off of his battered frame— He had died a hundred times to tell you those words.

He can hear you; you're crying into his shoulder, salty tears reviving the scent of the dried blood on his clothes. All he can do is hold you, and take refuge back into your arms after leaving them for what seemed like an eternity. His heart is communicating with yours, beating back and forth at each other. “I was looking for you.” You mumbled against his skin, lips quivering. Your voice is hesitant, as you pull away and look into his tired dark-golden eyes.

“You never lost me in the first place.” He whispers, planting a delicate kiss to your cheek, placing your nimble hand on the left side of his chest to feel evidence of his return. His arms felt lighter, his bones seemed to unbreak, and his wounds were no longer burning. His eyes slowly stickled with tears, burying his face into your hair to let out his shy tears before you had the chance to notice.

His body grew vulnerable under your touch as your tears slowly undid the knot of grief residing in his chest. He almost feels himself shrink back to when he was a lonely child as your mere presence invited the fragile parts of him to be loved again.

His soul yearns for moment like this, where your love is presented raw; It was never about just the beauty. He thawed under your touch even when his clothes and body was drab and scarred. It was never about just the mora, his wallet was no longer weighing in his pocket and he knew that he didn't have to worry about it. It was never about just the distance, it didn't matter if he had to crawl from mondstadt, he still would've tried to come home even if he knew he would die along the way. and it was never about the festivity. he didn't need a festival to celebrate in a way of holding you like he is now. It was always about the bond between both of you and how much joy his heart is beating out just because he can count the beats of yours.

To him, his soul is bound with yours. No matter how far his heroship takes him, he’ll always return to you. For him, that was enough of a reason to come crawling home. 

Kinich escaped heaven a hundred times to come home to you. For you, he would’ve gladly left a hundred times more.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You relish his embrace with tears sticking your lashes together when your mind slowly floats you away to a distant memory, one you feel like you should have forgotten by now.

It was so long ago.. 7 years ago or so?

It happened somewhere.. Here?

With someone.. Kinich.

You were younger teenagers with kinich that time. You had tripped down a short rocky fall while traversing grassy terrain with kinich. A wince squeaks through your gritted teeth, as he poured water onto the gash you scored on your stumbling. “I’ve always told you to stay sharp when we go out on a walk, but you never listen.” He grumbles, wiping off the dirt that trailed down your calf. “..And everytime you trip, it’s always me who has to clean you up, bandage you, and carry you home.”  He treated your wound as you sat on a rock, awkwardly playing with your fingertips.

You can tell he was just worried about you, you always managed to injure yourself when he took his eyes off of you. He was already pressured on finding a way home, but you just had to go get your knee busted. “Sorry.” you mumble, heat rising to your skin out of embarrassment. “If you really were sorry, you would actually look before you land your feet.” he said bitterly, undoing his bandana, and wrapping it around your knee tightly. As he tightened the knot, he said: “You know I won't always be around to protect you right?” 

“Yeah..” you shuffle your feet around. “But I-i swear I looked before I stepped okay! But the dip was.. was hiding under all the grass.” You attempt to defend yourself, looking at him with guilt written all over your face.

“Can you just promise me you’ll make heaven wait when I'm not around?” He sighs, before helping you get back on your feet, his arm snaking around your waist, as he scooped your shoulder over his shoulder. “Only if you promise too!” you scoff. He rolls his eyes, “As if I'll ever die before you. Seriously, one day I might just be running a commission and bump into you just bleeding to death from your knee.” you grimace under the thought. “Don’t say such horrible things!”

“Then promise me.” “..I promise.”

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 29 NOT AGAIN

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | sexual innuendos, swearing, mentions + pretty detailed description of a panic attack, lwk abandonment issues

NOTES | the girls are fighting... you didn't think I'd let them make up this fast did you?? a much shorter chapter today I'm sorry 😓

15:27pm , after the game

Y/n knew ningning inside out, they'd been friends for their whole life, best friends for a number of years, they'd spent longer together than apart.

Y/n and ningning were practically sisters. They'd fought over stupid things like if apple juice was better than orange juice, they'd stolen each others clothes, done each others nails as post breakup therapy— they'd experienced love and loss, and they'd always experienced it together.

It was and always had been them against the world.

Personal problems had always existed, but they'd face them head on and, most importantly, together.

So y/n knew what ningning was feeling, maybe not exactly, but she certainly knew why ningning felt the way she did.

And sure, Ningning's words had hurt y/n too, but that was the thing, they'd said the best and worst things to one another.

Being so close to someone can be a double-edged sword. Knowing their triggers and insecurities so well that in the heat of the moment, it’s almost too easy to throw those daggers. The intimacy shared can turn into a weapon of knowing exactly what to say to hit them where it hurts. In those moments, it’s like being caught in a toxic cycle, where love and pain intertwine.

Regret sets in as soon as the words leave the mouth, but the damage is done, leaving both people feeling raw and vulnerable. It's a harsh reminder that knowing someone deeply can sometimes mean knowing how to wound them just as easily. So y/n knew that Ningning was showing nothing but her concern.

But equally, she understood she deserved somewhat of an apology as well, even if Ningning's words had come from a good place, they'd hurt, and perhaps they hurt even more so coming from her.

It seemed a simple explanation why this argument of theirs had rested at the forefront of her mind for so long too, because Ningning was the only person in her life who Y/n couldn't imagine losing. And after everything that she'd been through, after the people she'd lost, and the relationships she'd seen go with them, she knew she wouldn't let herself be to blame. She wouldn't let herself lose a friend, least of all Ningning, just because she didn't communicate.

Or at least that was her plan, as she made her way down the hallway of the hotel, her hair still dripping from the shower she'd just taken, gripping way too many snacks for the two of them to share. Minjun followed after her, still gushing about having seen his older sister play for the first time, begging her to teach him how to dribble the ball like her, a grin plastered across his face. It was endearing, really.

And Y/n swore she only turned to smile at him for a second, but in the next, she felt her heart drop and her blood run cold. It felt like the ground shifted beneath her feet, and suddenly, she was trapped in a whirlwind of way too many thoughts, coming way too fast.

There, stood across the hallway, was a man she had made many desperate attempts to forget. To no avail, of course.

She blinked, rubbing her fists against her eyes hurriedly, as if he was nothing but a figment of her imagination, that when she looked up again he'd disappear and this would be nothing but a bad dream. But there he was, struggling to open the door to his room, angrily staring down at the key card with furrowed brows.

He seemed older. His hairs greying and wrinkles setting in across the feafures she recognised so well, his smile lines deeper than the last time she'd seen him.

The last time she'd seen him.

Her breaths quickened at the sight of him, becoming deeper yet each inhale felt shallower than the last, and her chest tightened like a vice. This wasn't happening, it couldn't, not here, not now.

She could hear the muffled voice beside her asking why they'd stopped walking, she could feel minjun's grip tighten around her, she could see the way the man turned his head at the realisation he was no longer alone in the haway, but it all felt distant, like she was underwater.  Unsure how to answer, she stood silently, gaze locked on the man, blinking rapidly, questioning if he was really, truly stood in front of her at all. As soon as he locked eyes with her, she felt the bile rush up her throat and a distant ringing in her ears, her hands beginning to shake against the smaller ones that held hers. Y/n felt like she was drowning. But she knew she couldn't. It was a luxury she couldn't afford, and the soft skin brushing against her hand was a reminder of that.

Panic surged through her, and y/n fought the urge to break down, feeling the walls closing in on her. The bright lights overhead felt too harsh, illuminating the doubts swirling in her head, making it hard to focus. Calm down. She thought, but she couldn't. She couldn't think she couldn't move, and worst of all, she couldn't calm down. She convinced herself this was nothing, voiced out lies in her mind that echoed with uncertainty. Breathe, she thought. But she couldn't. It was as if every unresolved feeling crashed over her like a tidal wave, leaving her gasping for air and desperate for an escape. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ground herself, but the memories flooded back faster, unrelenting and unforgiving.

Y/n found herself tugging harshly against the smaller wrist that was still loosely resting in her grip, making a sharp 180 and jetting off down the hallway, with shaky steps and ragged breaths.

She had to go, she had to leave, she had to do it now. Her phone vibrated in her hands only seconds later, a painfully familiar contact flashing across the screen, and all y/n could do was throw the device into the bottom of her bag, stuffing her belongings in on top, making no effort to answer the questions coming from the confused young boy who watched her. The blood rushed to her head so quickly, too quickly, in fact, and she swore the room in front of her begun to spin.

Her dad hadn't called her in years, not a single message, not a single word, so why now was he calling? Why was he reaching out now? Just because he'd seen her? Did some sort of shitty parental guilt kick in at the sight of his now grown children? Did he feel inadequate, maybe even jealous that they were doing just fine without him? Y/n didn't know, and she didn't care, but seeing him was still enough for her to take an unwanted trip down memory lane, reliving every moment since he'd left. Her chest tightened, the lump in her throat growing to the point that she couldn't breathe no matter how hard she tried. Still, she kept going, scanning the room to make sure she hadn't left anything behind.

Minjun had never seen his sister like this, so close to breaking down, and y/n didn't plan on letting that change today, sucking in deep breaths and wiping her teary eyes as she pulled his jacket around him. It was getting cold outside now, and she wouldn't let one careless mistake from her because of something so trivial, leading to him becoming sick.

Y/n could barely function, struggling to pull the zipper loop up and through the jacket, still she kept going. Her body ran on autopilot, muscle memory taking full control as she silently pulled the bags through the door and held a hand out for minjun to follow. Too occupied in her own thoughts she rushed out of the hotel with urgency, taking long strides towards the cabs that waited outside, only realising she was moving way too fast for Minjun to keep up when his small rushed breaths filled the air. She needed to calm down, she wasn't alone and she had to act like it. Minjun was her responsibility, and she needed to take care of him.

She muttered out an apology, quick, sincere, but short and found herself falling back into the  cycle of her own thoughts again. Comfort was a thought far away, but the surety of heading home, caused the racing of her heart to ease just slightly, a dull ache developing in her arm now that she'd finally set down all her bags inside the cab, a cramp settling in.

In that moment, y/n felt the overwhelming feeling of solitude press down in her, honing in from all sides, and the ache of abandonment crept into each corner of her heart. The pain was bitter and fuck, it ran deep.

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[maddieclarkey2002]

Something Different

~Fluff~

Arthur had always been there. Her brother’s best friend. A part of the furniture. Someone she never really thought about like that—not seriously, not in a way that meant anything.  

At least, that’s what she told herself.  But tonight, something feels… different.  

They’re alone in the kitchen, the soft hum of the fridge the only sound between them. Chris is out, and Arthur, for some reason, decided to stay behind. It isn’t unusual—they’ve spent plenty of time together over the years—but tonight, the air feels heavier, charged in a way she doesn’t quite understand.  Arthur leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. He looks relaxed, but his eyes keep flicking to her like he’s trying to figure something out.  

“What?” she finally asks, raising an eyebrow.  

He hesitates. “Nothing.”  

“Liar.”  

A smirk tugs at his lips. “I just… I don’t know. You ever have a moment where something feels off, but you can’t explain why?”  

She frowns. “Off?”  

“Not bad,” he clarifies. “Just… different.”  

She considers that for a moment. Because yes, actually—she knows exactly what he means. It’s been happening all night, this strange shift between them, something just beneath the surface.  She just doesn’t know what to do with it.  

“Maybe you’re overthinking it,” she says, even though her heart is pounding a little too hard.  

Arthur exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Maybe.” But he doesn’t sound convinced.  Neither is she.  The silence stretches, and she suddenly feels restless—like if she doesn’t move, something is going to happen that she’s not prepared for. So she pushes away from the counter, brushing past him to grab a glass from the cabinet.  Only, she miscalculates.  

She turns at the same time he does, and suddenly they’re too close—closer than they’ve ever been. Close enough that she can see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, the way his breath hitches for just a second.  She should step back. She should laugh it off. She should do anything but freeze the way she does.  Arthur doesn’t move either.  His gaze drops—just briefly—to her lips, and something shifts between them, something she doesn’t have words for.  

And that’s when she realises—he’s thinking it too.  Whatever this is, whatever strange thing is happening between them, he’s feeling it just as much as she is.  

“Maybe,” she says softly, “it’s not that something feels different.”  

Arthur’s jaw tightens. “No?”  

“Maybe,” she breathes, “we’re just finally noticing it.”  

His adam’s apple bobs. His hands twitch at his sides, like he wants to do something but isn’t sure if he should.  And she wonders—how long have they both been missing this? Neither of them move. Neither of them speak. But in the space between them, something unspoken settles into place. And this time, neither of them can ignore it.    

Arthur doesn’t move.  Neither does she. They’re just standing there, inches apart, the air between them crackling like a live wire. She knows she should say something—anything—but her mind is blank, spinning with the weight of this moment.  Has it always been like this? Has she just not noticed before? Or is this new?  Arthur exhales sharply through his nose, like he’s battling something in his head. Then, finally, he steps back. Just a little. Just enough for the moment to not feel like a breaking point—but not enough for things to go back to normal, either.  

“I should probably—” He stops, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s late.”  

It is. But she doesn’t want him to go.  

“Yeah,” she says, though it sounds like a lie.  

Arthur glances at her again, like he’s searching for something, but whatever it is, he doesn’t say it out loud. Instead, he clears his throat, reaching for his jacket draped over the back of a chair.  

She watches him, heart still racing.  

He hesitates before pulling it on. “You, uh…” He swallows. “You good?”  

She blinks. Good?What does that even mean?  Is she good with the fact that, for the first time in forever, she’s seeing him in a way she doesn’t quite know how to handle?  Is she good with the fact that he might be seeing her that way too?  Or is she good with pretending none of this just happened?  

She licks her lips. “Yeah. You?”  

Arthur lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “Not even a little.”  

And before she can process that answer—before she can ask him what it means, what he means—he’s gone.  

For the next few days, she doesn’t see him.  

It isn’t unusual—Arthur has his own life, his own job, his own friends. But it feels different now. Because normally, he’d be here. He’d be lounging on her couch, playfully arguing with her brother over something stupid, throwing some half-teasing comment her way.  But now? Nothing.  And it drives her insane.  

“Where’s Arthur?” she asks Chris casually one evening, pretending not to care too much.  

He shrugs. “Busy, I guess.”  

Busy.  

She wonders if he’s avoiding her. She wonders if he felt this thing between them and decided it wasn’t worth whatever it might cost. And maybe she should let it go. Maybe she should act normal, pretend she didn’t notice anything that night either. But she can’t. Because for the first time in years, she’s realising something:  

She doesn’t want to just be her brother’s kid sister to him. She doesn’t want to keep pretending like nothing is there. And maybe—just maybe—neither does he.  

The next time she sees him, it isn’t at her house.  

It’s at a coffee shop. A random coincidence, but the second her eyes land on him—sitting alone, staring at his phone with a look that definitely isn’t relaxed—she knows this isn’t over. Before she can talk herself out of it, she walks over. Arthur looks up, and for a second, something flashes across his face—relief, maybe. Or hesitation. She can’t tell.  

“Hey,” she says, sliding into the seat across from him.  

He exhales through his nose. “Hey.”  

And then silence.  

It stretches too long, but neither of them move to fill it. Because what do you say to someone when everything between you is changing, and neither of you know what to do about it? Finally, she leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Are you avoiding me?”  

Arthur looks down at his coffee, his jaw tightening. “No.”  

She lifts an eyebrow. “Liar.”  

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t deny it this time.  

She swallows, her voice quieter when she asks, “Why?”  

Arthur sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because.”  

“That’s not an answer.”  

He looks up at her then, his dark eyes serious in a way she’s never seen before. “Because I don’t know what to do with this,” he admits. “With… whatever’s going on.”  

Her heart stutters. “So you do feel it.”  

Arthur’s expression shifts—like he wasn’t expecting her to say that.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice rough. “I do.”  

And just like that, she knows—there’s no going back. Not to how things were. Not to before. Because whatever this is, neither of them can ignore it anymore. Arthur is still looking at her, like he’s waiting for her to tell him he’s wrong. That this is all in his head. That they can go back to normal. But she doesn’t want normal. Not anymore.  

She swallows hard. “What if we don’t have to do anything with it?”  

Arthur frowns. “What?”  

She takes a steady breath, forcing herself to say the words before she loses the nerve. “What if we just stop overthinking it? Stop avoiding it?”  

Arthur exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “You think it’s that easy?”  

“No,” she admits. “But pretending it’s not there isn’t working either.”  

His eyes darken, his fingers tightening around his coffee cup. “And what if this—what if we—mess everything up?”  

Her chest tightens, but she holds his gaze. “What if we don’t?”  

Arthur doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. And then, just as she thinks he’s going to pull away again, he does the opposite. He leans in. Not fast. Not reckless. Just certain.  She barely has time to process before his lips are on hers—soft, hesitant for only a second before he deepens the kiss.  

It’s everything and not enough all at once.  His fingers graze her jaw, tilting her face to his like he’s memorising the feel of her, like he’s wanted this just as much as she has. And she melts into it, because of course she does. Because this is Arthur—the boy who was always there, the boy she never thought would see her this way, and now that he does, she doesn’t ever want him to stop.

When they finally break apart, his forehead rests against hers, his breath uneven.  

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Definitely can’t pretend anymore.”  

She lets out a shaky laugh, heart still pounding. “Took you long enough.”  

Arthur chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”  

“And you’re slow.”  

He smiles, but then his expression softens, turning more serious. “What now?”  

She exhales, brushing her fingers over his. “Now… we figure it out.”  

Arthur studies her, something warm and sure settling in his eyes. Then he nods, lacing his fingers with hers.  

“Yeah,” he says. “We do.”  

And just like that, everything changes. But for the first time, neither of them are afraid of it.  

——————————————————————————————————

This is my first time writing a fic in AGES!

Let me know if you want a part two!!

[skippingstonez]

To celebrate my birthday, I offer you all an attempt at writing smutt for the first time.

A Slice of Life

(Legend x Reader)

Warnings: Sexy Time (poorly written, but I tried)

Legend sat on the floor of his home with his hookshot in hand and tools scattered all around him. The blasted thing had jammed weeks ago but without the proper tools he hadn’t been able to fix it for some time. The mechanism was complex, finicky and though he had done it before, Legend settled himself down knowing he would likely be at this most of the day. 

The others had ether gone into town, likely to restock on anything they needed. Or were wisely staying out of his way. Leaving him to focus for nearly two hours in blissful silence until he eventually felt the couch cushions behind him dip. He didn't look up from his work. Didn't even shoot whoever had just joined him a sly remark or even an acknowledgement that he knew they were now here. 

Whoever it was now sat behind him did the same. No attempts at idle chat or witty banter. In fact whoever it was, was so quiet that Legend still has no idea who it was. Which, that in itself narrowed it down to only a few of the heros but there was still plenty of people it could be.

But as the tight roll of chains snapped against his finger he pushed the thought from his mind. This was his favorite hookshot damn it, and he was not about to have to go and fish out his other ones.

More time passed, he wasn’t entirely sure how much, but his back was already sore from leaning over for so long. His fingers ached from the tedious work of untangling, reshaping and reconnecting the fragile chain inside. His stomach growled, protesting the lunch he likely had forgone in favor to simply get finished quicker.

Something crossed into his field of vision and for a moment he thought his stomach was playing tricks on him. A hand, holding a thin slice of apple out towards him or at least that's what it seemed like from the corner of his eye. Another loud rumble of his stomach and the apple slice was held a bit closer to him.

Legend eyed it curiously. His hands were entirely tangled in parts and tools. There would be no way he could let go to take the slice. His protesting stomach insisted that he try something however else it force him to take a break! So he leaned his head over, grabbed the slice with his teeth and took a bite.

It was one from his orchard. He'd know the taste anywhere and it was a welcomed comfort to his senses. The hand disappeared from view as he chewed and swallowed. Pleased that his concentration had not been broken in his need to satisfy his still rather empty stomach. 

The hand returned a second later with another slice. Repeating his actions, he leaned over and took it into his mouth. It easily slipped into a small pattern as he continued his work. So much that Legend had almost embarrassingly opened his mouth in anticipation before the slice even appeared.

At long last, they stopped coming. Likely having run out from the impromptu lunch.

Legend doubled down on his efforts with the small red hookshot. Switching tools when needed with the occasional swear word thrown out when he couldn't quite get the right thing to move. 

Ages later he could hear the door open and someone shuffling inside. “Mr Hero!!” Legend immediately groaned at the shout of his familiar nickname. 

“There you are Mr Hero! Can-” 

Legend held up a hand, signally for Ravio to stop talking. He just needed one more minute. One more little twist of the blasted thing and theeen…

”Fucking finally.” He dropped his tools and closed his eyes as he slumped back against the couch with a freshly restored hookshot. He closed his eyes, letting his head flop backwards in relief to finally be done.

Ravio snickered from where he stood in the doorway. “Apologies, I didn't realize you had…company.” 

Ravio's comment struck him as odd. He hadn't heard anyone else come into the house so why was he referencing them? And why would that make him laugh? Maybe they were all messing around outside? Oh crap, he could only imagine the ridiculous antics some of them have likely gotten themselves into. Legend just hoped it was far from the orchard at least but with his luck they had would accidentally burn it to the ground.

He should go check on them. Make sure they're okay and aren't touching things they aren't supposed to. 

He should get up. 

He sighed, finding it hard to even care about what the others could be up to. He was much more focused on the relaxing sensation of fingers running through his hair. The way they scratched lightly at his scalp, releasing any tension or worries he could possibly be having.

His eyes flew open, sitting straight back up as he came to his senses. Not only has he completly forgotten that somewas was supposedly behind him. But that someone had been, no, was touching him and he hadn’t even noticed! He spun around so fast that his spine cracked.

You were sitting there, back leaning against the armrest with your legs stretched out before you. One of the books he had gotten in Holodrum held up in one hand while the other rested on the arm rest behind you. Hand dangling over the edge where his head had just been. 

Legend noted the way your fingers still slowly moved which means you hadn’t noticed him move away.

He saw the empty bowl that sat beside your feet, recalling all of the apple slices that he had been fed while working. The tips of his ears turned red realizing that it had been you that had been silently feeding him that whole time. 

You finally looked up from the book, meeting his gaze before smiling and closing the book. Careful not to lose the page you were on. 

“Oh, did you finish fixing your hookshot?” You asked. 

All he could manage was to nod his head.

“You were at that for a while. I think the others are out back. I’ll go check with Wild about dinner, you must be starving.” 

You gently put the book down before swinging your legs off the couch and walked out of the room. Ravio waved as you walked past before turning back and smirking at Legend who glared at him in return. 

“What?” he grumbled. 

“Nothing~” he practically sang out in a teasing tone. “I just dont think I’ve ever seen you look sooo…” he paused, waving his hand around, pretending to think of the right word as Legend just rolled his eyes. “Domestic.” Ravio teased. 

Legend quickly looked away feeling his face getting uncomfortably warm. He quickly gathered up the tools around him and stood up to leave. He brushed past his rather unwelcomed roommate and headed up the stairs to his room. 

He threw the tools inside an old chest before turning to Ravio who was now leaning against the door frame, having followed after him.

 “Oh come now Mr Hero! No need to be so embarrassed! The two of you certainly seemed to be quite comfortable down there. Is there something going on between the two of you?” Ravio wiggled his eyebrow and Legend scowled. 

“What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be trying to sucker someone into buying you're overpriced items?” 

“I’ll take that as a yes!” Ravio shoved his way further into the room, closing the door behind him. “Sooooo?? Go on, tell Ol Ravio all about it!” 

“There's nothing to tell Rav.” Legend grumbled, locking the chest shut. 

“Sure there is! How long have you been an item? What about her caught your eye? Or OH! How did you tell her?” 

“Nothing!” Legend shouted, sinking onto his bed. “I haven't told her anything cause there is nothing to tell!” Ravio crossed his arms, staring at him with raised eyebrows. 

“Link. You are single handedly the worst liar I've ever met.”

“The hell! Im not lying! There is nothing going on between me and (Y/N).” If Legend couldn't meet Ravio's eyes while he said it he would never admit to it.

“That's not what I saw downstairs.” Ravio pressed. “Clearly you at least have feelings for her do you not? So why not say something?”

Legend sank further into the bed. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation right now. With Ravio of all people. When you could be just a few feet away.

Ravio took a few steps forward, leaning closer as if examining Legend’s face. Legend leaned back but held his gaze firmly this time. “You're scared aren't you.” 

Legends face flared, eyebrows shooting towards the ceiling. “W-what!?” 

Ravio leaned back, letting his back hit the wall with a surprised smirk etched on his face. “You're scared to tell her how you feel.” 

“That…I am NOT scared!” 

“Oh? Then why haven't you told her yet?”

Well because….Why hadn’t he told you?

“What do you expect me to do! Run downstairs and break out into some fucking love song?”

“I want you to be honest Mr. Hero! If you like the girl then tell her!”

Legend stood up, getting right in Ravio’s face and to the man’s credit, he didn’t even flinch.

“Fine. You want me to be honest? Then I’ll be honest.” 

He shoved Ravio out of the way and stormed downstairs. Legend had been on nearly 7 adventures. He had faced countless monsters, crawled through hundreds of dungeons. He had traveled through worlds and time. He even survived a freakin lightning strike that left him stranded at sea for days. Hell, he had faced Ganon, alone, when was barely 9 years old.

Surely he could tell some girl that he liked her. 

Legend rounded the corner into the chaos that was currently his kitchen. Wild was cooking something that smelled divine while everyone sat around his table chatting away about this and that. To his dismay, you were directly between Wars, and Sky who had an arm draped over the back of your chair. His eyes immediately locked with the man that stared at him questioningly.

Legend visibly swallowed when the god slayer sky knight tilted his head, asking if everything was alright.

“Fine……...I'll be right back.” Legend swiftly turned back and practically ran back up his stairs, passing Ravio as he threw himself on his bed. 

“Tsk tsk Mr. Hero. Here I thought I was the cowardly one.”

“Shut up you fucking rabbit” he mumbled, face planting into his pillow. 

_____

Legend tossed onto his side for what felt like the hundredth time that hour alone. Sleep evaded him, not that he was particularly tired anyway. 

He hated that Ravio had been right. Because he was right. Legend was not only scared to admit his feelings, he was down right terrified. 

Time after time he had opened his heart only to have it crushed. Everyone he had ever truly cared for was gone. He was already on borrowed time with you as it is. What would even be the point in saying anything if he could wake up any day and you'd just join his ever growing list of ‘what could have been’?

He turned onto his back, kicking away the blanket in frustration as he glared holes into his ceiling.

Say he did confess. Say he finally told you all about how his eyes constantly looked for you. Searching for your smile like it's the only good thing left in the world. Or that the sound of your laugh could put Nayrus singing to shame.

He could tell you all about how his stomach fills with butterflies when you're near and that he craves the touch of your skin.

He could say all of that and more. Offering you everything he had just for the price of the smallest touch of your hand and it couldn't be enough.

Because you needed to feel the same. And Legend didn't know if he could face the reality of knowing that you didn't.

But what if you did?

What if by some miracle you not only understood exactly how he feels, but somehow feels even a sliver of it in return.

Legend sat up in his bed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. If Ravio has been right about one thing, then maybe, just maybe he was right and you returned his feelings.

He needed to settle this and he needed to do it now. Before he could chicken out again and before that blasted rabbit in the other room started running his mouth and ruined any chance at finding out. 

Legend made for the door, creeping his way downstairs to where 9 people were currently crowded into his living room. 

You were over by the hearth, curled up next Wind who had limbs nearly on 5 other people.

He tiptoes his way over, careful to not step on any of the others on his way. 

He kneels down beside you. Part of him feels guilty for waking you, especially on one of the rare nights in an actual house. The other part has him grabbing your shoulder and giving it a few shakes.

Your eyes peel open with a soft groan. Staring up at Legend that made the guilt sink further. “Ledge?” You whispered, sitting up and rubbing at your eyes. 

“Shhh,” He presses a finger to his mouth. “I…I need to talk to you.” He lightly grabs your hand, giving it a small tug for you to follow him as he stands.

“Now?” A yawn ripped through you as he helped you to your feet. “Is everything okay?” 

“I just…come on. Well talk upstairs.” You don't ask any further questions as you follow after him. Your hand gently holding his as he led you up the stairs and into his room.

You dropped his hand, turning to close the door behind you before facing him. Eyes full of worry as you wait for him to start talking.

He didn't waste a second before he pulled you to him, his lips pressing against yours in a stiff kiss. He pulled away just as quickly, breath shaking from anticipation.

“Ledge..” you whispered, fingers barely holding onto his forearms.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” He said, leaning his face close to yours. “Say you don't want me and I’ll open that damn door, you go back downstairs and we pretend none of this happened.” A shiver crawled up your spine as his fingers brushed over your waist. “I won't try to convince you to stay, to want me in the way that my whole being craves to just be near you. I wont try to stop you and I will live out the rest of my fucking existence trying to get you out of my head.”

His lips hovered just above yours, just barely brushing as he spoke.

“Do you want me?”

“Ledge-”

“Do you-”

“Yes! Yes I want you, you idiot!”

He grabbed the back of your neck, holding you still as his lips melded to yours. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers finding their way to his jaw to hold his face to yours. His lips moved against yours, a hand coming up to tangle in your hair still tostled from sleep. You gasped, allowing him enough time for his tongue to dart forward. The warm muscle sliding right past your lips, completely overtaking you in a desire to explore every crevice of your mouth. 

You slid your hands down to his chest, tugging at the thin piece of fabric keeping you from his skin. You found the hem, lifting it up as Legend pulled his mouth away from yours. You lifted the shirt up over his head, tossing it to the ground as you soaked in the view of his toned torso. Your fingers reached forward, tracing over muscles and scars that littered the newly revealed skin. 

You turned your head. Lips brushing over the smaller bruises and scars etched into his chest and shoulders. Complimenting each one in a breath whisper.

Legend grabbed your chin, tilting your face upward to capture your lips again. He pressed into you, trapping you between his bare chest and the wall. His lips  traveled away from your mouth and down to your neck. You let out a small moan as he bit down on the sensitive skin, lapping at it with his tongue before sucking the surrounding area.

 Your hands dug into his hair, tugging at the pink tinted strands. Your name left his lips like a whispered prayer. His hands sliding down to the curves of your thighs. He stops just before your knees, hoisting you up off the ground. You wrap your legs around him as he holds you up. A sharp squeeze to your ass making you cling tighter to him.

The wall at your back disappeared, quickly replaced with the soft cushions of his mattress. Legend hovered over you as he continued his work on your neck. His fingers dipping underneath the hem of your shirt to trace small lines into your stomach.

“Is this alright?” He whispered just below your ear. His fingers trailing higher till they were just beneath your breasts.

“Yes.” You breathed out, encouraging him to keep going.

He pushed your shirt up till he had full view of your chest. Hands coming up the cup each one as he lowered his head. Kissing down the front of your neck as he kneaded each one. A thumb swiped over your nipple making you gasp as he repeated the motion again and again until he took it into his mouth. His other hand giving your other breast the same attention as he licked and sucked at your hardened mound.

Your hands dug into his hair, tugging him closer as he pulled a delicious moan from your lips. He looked up, his eyes glossy with lust as he detached from your breath with a small ‘pop’. 

You took the opportunity to fully remove your shirt, letting it join his on the floor before he latched himself to your other breast. 

Wetness pooled between your thighs that you clamped shut. You needed more. More of his mouth, his hands, anything he was willing to give you. You needed to taste him on your tongue. Hear the same gasps and moans that were pouring from your mouth coming from him. You needed him pressed against you, inside of you.

You wiggled your foot underneath him. Letting the top of your foot gently press along the bulge in his shorts.

He hissed, sitting up on his knees. He grabbed your thighs, tearing open your legs to slot himself between them. His erection pressed directly against you with a slow grind of his hips.

“Link~” 

“Fuck (Y/N), do you know how long I've wanted this?” He grabbed your hips, pressing himself further against you as he ground his hips against yours. “To hear you say my name like this?”

Whatever clothing either of you had on, you needed them off. Now.

You reached up, pulling him down by the shoulders so you could kiss him. You sucked at his bottom lip while your hands trailed all the way down till they found the top of his shorts. A single finger tugged at the waistband, then 2, then 3. 

“Can I touch you?”

He nods, breath caught in his throat as your hand dipped below the waistband. He shudders above you as you take hold of his cock.

“Sit back for me? Please?”

 Hylia, Legend could have come from the sound of your voice alone.

He complies. Letting you maneuver him into a sitting position as you slowly help remove his shorts. His cock hard and red from neglect. You sit beside him, giving open mouth kisses to his shoulder as your fingers find their way down, wrapping around him. He stiffens under your touch, shutting his eyes as you ever so slowly tease the head with your thumb.

“(Y/N))~”

“You like that?” You teased, swiping your thumb over the slit, slick with precum. “Mmmm do you that or this more?” You give a slow pump of his dick making him throw his head back.

“T-That. Fuck please-” he whined. His hands grabbed for you. One wrapping around your waist while the other kept your head securely to his neck that you peppered with kisses.

You grabbed the base, going as slow as possible until he was practically shaking, fingers digging into you.

“Please..” 

“Please what?”

“Go faster.” He panted.

You did, tightening your grip ever so slightly as you pumped him up and down. Your lips brushing his ear as he leaned over and buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breathing getting more sporadic as his abs tightened. He was close, just a few more-

His hand grabbed your wrist, yanking it away from him. You immediately froze, wondering if you had done something wrong. Had you gone too far somehow?

He grabbed your waist, effortlessly tossing you onto your back as he crawled on top.  “Not yet.” His voice shaking as if it took everything he had to restrain himself. “Not till I'm inside of you and all you know anymore is how good I make you feel.”

Fuuuuuuck.

He grabbed your legs, throwing them over his shoulders. He nipped at the inside of your thighs. Sliding down till he was laying flat in his stomach. 

“What do you want first?” He practically purred into your leg. “My fingers or mo-”

“Mouth. Please.” 

Legend chuckled ever so softly. “Been thinking about this as long as I have? Well since you asked so nicely.”

He nudged his face towards your core. His tongue darted out to lick a long stroke up your folds.

“Hylia~” your hand flew to your mouth, muffling your cry.

“Shhhh, we don't wanna wake the others now do we?” Another lick and you had to bite down on your hand to keep from shouting.

His mouth closed around your clit, sucking gently as the tip of his tongue flicked against it.

“Fuck your so wet” his tongue prodding at your entrance. “You taste better than I've ever dreamed.”

“And just how often is that?” You tried to tease. Breath hitching as his mouth hummed against you in a mumbled reply. Your hand found his hair, pushing it back away from his eyes as he ate you out.

The pad of his thumb pressed against your clit and another loud moan was torn from you as his mouth was replaced by his fingers. The coolness of the few rings still on his fingers adding to the already intense sensation as one slipped its way inside of you.

“Link! Fuck”

“Goddess I love hearing you say that.” His voice just as breathy and labored as yours. The pace of his finger quickened, making you buck your hips. He flung an arm over your hips, pinning them down to the bed as he curled his fingers inside of you.

The coil in your gut tightened and you let out another moan. You reached for his arm that held your hips, digging your nails along the long scar on his forearm. At this rate you wouldn't last much longer.

“Fuck Link, I'm…I'm close”

“That's okay” he hummed, “Imma take care of you.”

Well that didn't seem fair. After all he had stopped you earlier hadn't he? “W-what happened…to ‘not yet’?

“Different” he slurred. Vibrating against you that nearly had you over the edge. But you were stubborn and you were gonna make him feel just as good if you had anything to say about.

“The hell it is.” Against every desire in your body, you raised your leg. Pressing your foot on his shoulder and as hard as you could, shoved him away. Your pleasure following along with him.

Legend shot onto his knees. Grabbing your ankles to roughly yank you back to him. His hands slammed down by your head as an almost feral growl came from his chest.

“Try that again, and I'll make you scream so loud they'll hear you in the traveler's era.”

Damn.

“Mmmm, tempting.” You teased, reaching up to trace a line down his chest, all the way to the base of his dick. Red and needy as it pressed against your thigh.

Legend rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Ready?” you nodded as he positioned himself at your entrance, slowly pushing his cock inside.

You both swore, letting you adjust to him before he slid out and slammed back into you. A hand clamping down over your mouth to muffle your shout. He did it again, and again, and again. Pistoning into you at an unforgivable rate. 

His mouth replaced the hand over your mouth. Swallowing your moans that were flying from your mouth as he moved. Your arms clung to him, nails scratching down his back that make him melt into you. 

“You're so damn perfect” he whispered into your mouth. The coil in your gut returning as he continued to whisper sweet praises into your mouth.

“Link~”

“Let go, I’ve got you.”

You came, the high of it rolling through at his words. Squirming beneath him as he chased his own release which came shortly after.

You both stayed there for a moment, catching your breaths as you collected your thoughts.

“Got any other confessions that need expressing in the middle of the night?”

Legend laughed, rolling off to lay down beside you. He opened his arms to you, a silent offer that he prayed you'd take. You smiled, curling into his side to rest your head on his shoulder.

Legend wrapped an arm around you. Holding you close as he grabbed a blanket, throwing it over the two of you.

_______

Legend never ended up falling asleep.

By the time the sun shines through his window, he was just as awake as he was when he first tried to call it a night.

Not that he was going to complain.

He looked down to where you were still resting on top of him. Your face nuzzled into his neck, legs loosely tangled with his as you peacefully slept on. He rested his head on top of yours, letting his fingers lazily trace patterns on your exposed back.

He felt your fingers twitch, wiggling on his chest before the rest of your body slowly stretched. Testing it's ability to move as you came back to consciousness with a quiet groan.

You lifted your head from its place on his chest. Your eyes scanning your surroundings in slight confusion before they met his.

“Morning” he whispered as your head fell back down with a small smile. Your arms moving to wrap around his waist as you snuggled back into him.

“Mmmmm no.”

“No?”

“No. More sleep”

Legend chuckled, pulling you closer as you tried to bury yourself into his shoulder. He brushed some hair out of your face, turning to kiss your forehead. You looked up to him in response, leaning up to kiss him.

The door slams open and Legend jumped so hard he accidentally rolled the two of you right off the bed. Landing on top of where you were now on his wood floor. 

“Mr Hero, I've been thinking about our conversation yesterday” Legend shot up to look over the bed to where Ravio was now standing in his doorway.

“Rav get out!!”

“i came up with a few ideas of how to help you and I want to get your thoughts on the matter.“

“Ravio! Get out of my room!” Legend scrambled to snatch his shorts from the floor as Ravio strolled inside.

“You need to tell her Mr Hero! (Y/N) Deserves to know!”

“Tell me what!?” You sat up just enough so your head popped over the bed. Blanket pulled up to your chin.

Ravio stood there, mouth hanging open. Legend took the chance to shove Ravio out of the room, slamming his door shut with a huff.

You got up, wrapping the blanket around you like a towel and sat back on the bed.

“Uhh, what was that about?”

“Don't. As-”

*Knock knock* “Vet you up?”  Hyrule's voice calls from just beyond the door. Legend groans, pulling the door open only a crack.

“What?”

“Do you know where (Y/N) is? We woke up and she wasn't there. Skys kinda freaked out since he swears she was there when we went to bed.”

You quietly shuffled over, standing just behind the door. Suppressing your laughter at the way Legends brow twitched.

“Why would I know? I'm sure she just went for a walk or something.” You teasingly brush your hand up his arm hidden behind the door. Holding a hand to your mouth as his jaw tightened.

Hyrule eyes him curiously, but whatever he was thinking he didn't voice. Simply nodding and made his way back towards the stairs.

“Well she better come back soon otherwise they might send Wolfie to go track her down.”

Legend shut the door and you burst out into a fit of giggles. Legend grabbed your waist pulling you to him. “You are already so much trouble, did you know that?”

You smiled, taking his face in your hands as you leaned up and kissed him. “Don't worry, I'm sure I can make it up to you somehow.”

[alchemistc]

for love that i'll keep tending | bucktommy 1/1

read on ao3

Tommy has been... stewing, for most of the night. There's no way around it.

He's been reserved, picking at the label on his latest craft beer, something he'd actually used his timeshare on the chopper to fly out to Colorado to pick up because Buck had gone down a research spiral and mentioned might be fun to try (after he'd gotten teary-eyed about the one dedicated to a brewery dog who'd passed), only the brewery didn't ship.

Eddie is almost positive they haven't had a fight. He'd spent an entire 24 with Buck, and even if Buck had been keeping silent about it -- unlikely, but always a possibility -- he'd definitely have been brooding about it. But he'd been normal. For the general rule of Buck, anyway, he'd been normal. Maybe even a little more chipper than usual. When he'd smacked a hand to Eddie's shoulder on the way to his Jeep, he hadn't even done the usual rigamarole of acting a little jealous about Eddie and Tommy spending time together without him.

Shit, is Buck losing interest?

But -- no.

No, because a week ago they'd gone to a call for a lost little girl in the canyon, and when they'd gotten to her and she'd told them all about going camping with her dads, and how she'd gotten turned around and lost, Buck had done his normal routine with kids and charmed her into calm, and when they'd found the guys frantically searching for their daughter an hour and a half later, Buck had gotten a look in his eye that Eddie had been seeing a lot of lately.

There was the general look he always gave kids -- babies especially, but kids in general -- like he found them more precious than anything else in the world. And then there was the look he reserved for parents and their kids -- contemplative, a little wistful, like he was remembering there was someone out there in the world with half his genetic makeup.

And then there was the one for gay men and their children. It wasn't like it happened a lot, but often enough that even Eddie sometimes wondered if Buck wasn't accidentally manifesting these meetings. It'd been happening with greater frequency since the moment Andi from B shift had unceremoniously dumped her new baby into Tommy's arms so that she could grab a slice of Bobby's famous apple pie before it was gone. Tommy'd been magnanimous enough to refuse to hand the baby back for most of the evening, eyeing her frazzled hair and the circles under her eyes and making the executive decision that she needed a break, even if it was just forty-five minutes at the station while they all celebrated the new arrival and the extra two weeks of maternity leave they'd had to practically sue the city for.

Buck's love of kids seemed to have laser-focused since seeing Tommy rocking a baby in one arm while he spoon-fed Jee-Yun cake in the seat next to his.

And Eddie hasn't ever really talked to Tommy about kids, in general. He's good with Chris, unfazed in the face of all his angsty teenage moods, happy to be drawn into conversations that even Eddie and Buck sometimes aren't sure how to navigate. He knows Jee's a little obsessed with him, and that it's a point of pride for Tommy. Denny and Mara are always begging Hen to invite him over more.

Maybe it's finally hitting, though? That a future with Buck almost certainly means children, at some point?

The heavyweight match ends with a technical KO in the third round and Eddie stands to grab another round of beers.

"I bought a ring on my day off," Tommy says, staring hard at his mostly empty growler, and Eddie drops back into his recliner with a grunt.

"Okay," Eddie tells him, leaning in with his elbows on his knees. Neither one of them speaks as the next bout is announced. It's technically the one they went halvsies on the package for, but Eddie doubts either one of them cares enough about it to refocus. "I gotta say, man, if you're having second thoughts I'm the wrong person to talk to, because I'm gonna get defensive and tell you you're a damn fool, and I doubt it's gonna be helpful."

Tommy turns to give him a look so unimpressed that Eddie's actually a little jealous. That, at least, is helpful.

"Okay. Good. Great, even. So, what exactly is it that's been making you leak existential dread all over my couch since you got here?"

Eddie can think of a couple different possibilities. He isn't Buck-close with Tommy, but they talk, and it's not like he hasn't been around the two of them together enough to not have been privy to some of the more intimate conversations they've had. Family is a rough subject for all of them. So there's still that glaring what if they haven't talked about kids possibility. Or just a general fear that Buck isn't ready for this step -- completely unfounded, but Tommy's a lot more insecure about this stuff than he tends to let on.

Tommy grimaces. Gestures vaguely, and shakes his head, before he finally makes eye contact. "Evan's the grand gestures guy. And now I've got a ring burning a hole in my pocket, and jack shit as far as how to propose."

And this -- this is actually the most delightful answer he could have given. This is primo blackmail material. The best man speech is literally gonna write itself.

Eddie lets him stir in it for a hot minute. He tilts his head back and forth, nods to himself, rolls his tongue over his teeth, waits, waits, waits until Tommy narrows his eyes at him and reaches for a bottle cap on the coffee table to toss at Eddie's head.

Eddie laughs. "You could ask him two days laid up in bed with the flu, covered in flop sweat, and the answer would be the same."

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Clearly my point is that he deserves more than that, and I don't have a clue where to start."

"Well," Eddie starts, "I'm aware that everyone and their mother thinks I have a secret, elaborate proposal planned out for Buck already, but I am once again reminding you that we've been over this and I'm not actually hiding any unrequited feelings for the man you want to be your husband. So."

That saga won't make it into the speech. That's a private little story for the three of them to look back on, twenty years from now, and laugh about. That's a weekend stretch of conversations in the woods of Big Bear, sharing a tent that really should have only fit one of them, that Eddie will never be able to properly express his gratitude for.

"So you've got nothing," Tommy says, a little accusatory, a lot bitchy.

"Buck likes making big gestures, man. I have zero point of reference on what he'd like if the tables were turned."

But -- actually.

Tommy huffs, melting into the couch cushions like his marionette strings have been cut.

There's a thought percolating, though. He's just not sure --

"I shouldn't be worried," Tommy says, more to himself than to Eddie. It'd been an interesting revelation, half-a-year in, finding out that Tommy was actually kind of a yapper, once he was comfortable with someone. "We've talked about this. Marriage, kids, the whole nine yards. I don't know why I'm building this up in my head."

Which is unintentionally the most helpful thing he's said so far.

"I have... an idea," Eddie drops, tentative, as Pereira once again proves why he gets the title card every time he fights. Tommy's eyes snap to his, interested. "Depends how much you trust Jee to keep a secret."

She's her fathers daughter, so very little should be the answer. They'll have to keep her in the dark until day of. Probably find a way to keep Buck distracted until things are fully in motion.

Tommy leans in.

_____

Eddie's still riding the high of finally beating Josh and Maddie at pool when Buck and Tommy slide into the bar, the two of them grinning ear to ear. Eddie spots it first, and shoots a wide eyed look at Tommy, because they'd spent a week trying to plot out a time when everyone necessary to The Plan would be available for a long enough time to make it work without cutting corners. That day is still... three and a half weeks away.

And Buck's got a ring on his finger. Eddie's already seen it up close, a simple gold band, an inscription on the inside he doesn't really know the significance of, even if it'd made Tommy go a little moony-eyed when Eddie read it aloud.

Tommy... is also wearing a ring.

Dios, did Buck go out and buy a ring the night Tommy came over for the fights?

They're made for each other. They're both insane.

Buck isn't exactly subtle when he slams his hand down on the eight-top they'd snaked half an hour ago, and if Maddie hadn't immediately shrieked and drawn the attention of half the bar, Eddie is certain he'd have wiggled his fingers for emphasis. Maybe done a jig before he Vanna'd Tommy's bling, too.

Josh immediately monopolizes all of Buck's attention by demanding Buck tell him the story with haste, Buckley, so Eddie gets a chance to raise an eyebrow at Tommy, who quickly rolls his jaw to hide the massive grin threatening to overtake his entire face.

"Well I wasn't dying of dysentery," Tommy deadpans, as the smile leaks through at the corners of his mouth. His nose scrunches when he tries to bite it down.

"He forgot to put the box away before I got back from my run," Tommy admits, cheeks dimpling, and then the fight is out of him, left fist clenched tight so that the thick band catches in the overhead light, deep grooves stretching towards his ears as he unleashes the depths of his happiness upon the world.

Eddie can picture the mad scramble, the awareness that he's been caught, the doe-eyed grin that seems to be reserved specifically for Tommy.

Buck is making a gesture that is probably less obscene than it looks, based on the way Maddie continues to grin without any sign of pulling a face. Josh is sighing.

Chimney and Hen are gonna be pissed they were running late.

Eddie owes Hen twenty bucks.

("Yeah, have you met them? I'm taking bets right now, there's no way Tommy lasts a month with a ring and a plan.")

Maddie seems to realize at the same moment as Buck that they'd narrowed their focus so completely that the prospective fiance has had time to order drinks. She rounds on Tommy with the same unhinged joy she'd fostered in her brother, growing up.

"You didn't tell me!" she says, and Eddie assumes that means Tommy had (eventually, and god does he know way too much about how active their sex life is) divulged his plan.

"You would have told Howie," Tommy accuses, and when Maddie doesn't deny it Tommy just looks smug. His grin goes soft around the edges when he catches Buck beaming at him over his sisters shoulder.

Eddie takes the opportunity, before the rest of the party arrives and derails the conversation for a second retelling, to round the table and gather Buck up in a hug.

Buck's embrace is tight, and maybe a little teary. Eddie clings back, and thinks of the years and years of disappointed hopes, the loves that fizzled out, or burst into flames, the thing behind Buck's eyes that had only made itself known after Tommy stuck around.

Hen and Chim find them like that. He doesn't even let her get a word out before he's giving Buck a hearty smack on the back and digging for his wallet.

[lightdancingwords]

Second Chances – Part Three of ?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader

Series Summary: A chance meeting in a grocery store brings a second chance for you and for Beau. The only thing standing in your way are your respective pasts... and a tiny little roadblock.

Word Count: 2,874

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, mentions police work, toddlers/children and parenting

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I couldn't resist--I gotta have me some Beau while writing Dean! This is a brand new story of Beau and female reader!

Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter Three: Heads Over Heels

The Big Sky farmer’s market was alive with energy. The gravel paths bustled with people weaving between colorful stalls, each one brimming with local treasures. Stacks of ripe peaches and apples spilled over wooden crates, their sweet aroma mingling with the buttery scent of fresh kettle corn. Laughter and cheerful haggling floated through the crisp morning air, underscored by the bleating of goats from the small petting zoo at the market’s edge.

Y/N knelt by the goat pen, her face warm with laughter as she tried to manage her daughter, Eliza. The toddler, one hand clutching the wooden rail and the other outstretched, was fully engrossed in her mission to meet the goats. Her little voice rang out, clear and determined.

“Goat! Maaa!” she declared, her chubby fingers pointing insistently.

Y/N adjusted her balance, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she chuckled softly. “Yes, Eliza, goats,” she said with exaggerated patience, her eyes dancing as she reached out to steady her daughter.

Across the market, Beau froze mid-step. He’d been wandering aimlessly, ostensibly in search of honey and fresh bread, though his real reason for being there wasn’t to shop, but to be visible. After their calamitous first date, he hadn’t been sure how or when he’d see Y/N again. Yet, there she was, the morning sun catching in her hair, her laughter light but steady as she tried to keep up with Eliza’s boundless energy.

Beau hesitated. His memories of their last meeting were a mix of missteps and unguarded moments: the flat tire, scraped knuckles, oil smudges, and terrible food at the ill-fated restaurant. Still, the way the evening had ended—two kisses, simple but perfect—kept playing in his mind. Something about her had stayed with him, tugging at the edges of his thoughts long after they’d parted.

Adjusting his hat, Beau took a deep breath and headed toward them, his boots crunching softly against the gravel path. As he neared, he couldn’t help but grin at Eliza, her focus so intense that it seemed the rest of the world barely existed.

“Looks like someone’s already makin’ friends,” he said, his voice warm and teasing as he came to a stop near the fence.

Y/N startled slightly, her gaze snapping to him. For a fleeting moment, her eyes betrayed her surprise, but she quickly schooled her features into a polite, cautious smile. “Beau. Hi.” She stood, brushing her hands on her jeans, and looked at him with a mix of guarded curiosity and something softer she wasn’t quite ready to name.

Eliza turned at the sound of his voice, her wide eyes locking on him. She tilted her head, studying him with the serious intensity only a toddler could muster. Then, her gaze dropped to his badge, shiny and bright against the muted tones of his shirt. She pointed, her little finger unwavering.

“Goat?” she asked with an air of authority.

Beau crouched beside her, chuckling low in his throat. “Not quite, darlin’. But I can do a pretty good impression if it helps.” Clearing his throat dramatically, he leaned in and let out an exaggerated bleat. “Maaa!”

Eliza erupted into giggles, her tiny hands clapping together with unrestrained joy. “Maaa!” she echoed, her laughter pure and infectious.

Y/N’s lips twitched as she watched them, and despite herself, she couldn’t suppress a small smile. “She remembers you,” she said softly. Her voice carried warmth, but there was an edge of caution beneath it.

“She’s unforgettable,” Beau replied, his grin widening as he glanced up at Y/N. His green eyes met hers briefly, and something unspoken passed between them.

Meanwhile, Eliza, unfazed by the adult undercurrents, began climbing the fence with surprising determination. Beau instinctively reached out, his large hands steadying her before she could topple. “Whoa there, wolf-child,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “Thinkin’ about joinin’ the goats?”

“Goat!” Eliza insisted, wriggling in his grip as though she could make her way into the pen by sheer willpower.

“All right, let’s get you a closer look,” Beau said, lifting her into his arms with ease. He shifted her so she could balance against his chest, her tiny hands gripping his shirt for support.

Y/N started to protest, her hand half-raised. “You don’t have to—”

“I got her,” Beau interrupted gently, his voice low and steady. He glanced at her, his expression calm but resolute. “Take a breather. I don’t mind.”

Y/N hesitated, then let her hand drop, her shoulders relaxing as she watched him carry Eliza closer to the fence. Her daughter, who usually squirmed and fussed when held for too long, seemed content in Beau’s arms. It was a rare moment of stillness.

Beau crouched again, holding Eliza securely as she reached out toward the goats. One of the smaller ones, curious and friendly, approached, sniffing at her tiny fingers before giving them a gentle nuzzle. Eliza squealed with delight, her giggles rising again as she patted the goat’s rough fur.

“Soft!” she declared triumphantly, turning to Beau with wide, sparkling eyes as though to ensure he was as amazed as she was.

“Soft,” Beau echoed, his grin spreading. “You’ve got a good touch, kiddo. These goats hit the jackpot with you around.”

Y/N leaned against the fence, her arms loosely crossed. She watched them with an expression that was harder to read now, a mix of quiet awe and cautious hope. “She’s usually a tornado around animals. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this calm.��

Beau glanced at her over Eliza’s head, his green eyes warm and steady. “Maybe she just needed the right goat,” he said lightly, though his tone suggested he wasn’t just talking about the animals.

“Or the right company,” Y/N replied softly, her lips curving into a faint smile.

Their eyes locked, and for a brief moment, the bustling market seemed to fade. The sounds of laughter, bleating goats, and vendor chatter softened into the background as an unspoken connection passed between them.

Eliza, blissfully unaware of the adults’ silent exchange, tugged on Beau’s badge. “Shiny!” she announced, her fascination unwavering.

Beau chuckled, gently shifting her back into Y/N’s arms. Their fingers brushed during the exchange, a fleeting touch that sent a spark through both of them. He stepped back, adjusting his hat as he grinned at Eliza. “She’s got good taste. And not just in goats.”

Y/N’s laugh came unexpectedly, light and genuine. “You’re a charmer, aren’t you?”

“Only when it counts,” Beau replied, tipping his hat. “And for the record, that first date wasn’t all bad. Not the way it ended, anyway.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed faintly, and she gave him a teasing look. “Amazing what a good kiss can salvage.”

“Two good kisses,” Beau corrected, a glint of humor in his eyes.

Before Y/N could respond, Eliza wriggled in her arms, pointing back at the goats. “More!” she demanded.

Beau stepped back with a warm smile. “I’ll let you two get back to your goat adventures. But I’ll see you around?”

“Maybe,” Y/N said, her tone light and teasing but not dismissive. “If you’re lucky.”

Beau tipped his hat one last time, his heart feeling lighter as he walked away. As he disappeared into the crowd, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this story—disastrous first date and all—was far from over.

God, he was lucky. She was sweet, beautiful, and that kid—god, that little toddler was a killer. As he browsed around the farmer’s market, he kept seeing her around. It seemed Y/N knew several of the vendors, as he caught her chatting and laughing with them. Every time he heard her laugh, he wanted to veer around and grab her for another kiss.

He’d never felt like this for someone before. Not since… not since Carla. Losing his ex-wife still stung. He knew now where he erred in the marriage. The shooting of his partner, that loss, that awful moment, shattered everything. He couldn’t reach out to Carla; she couldn’t reach him. It dissolved the marriage and only after did he realize where he went wrong.

Eventually he found them back at the goat pen. Evidently, the wolf-child Eliza was very, very determined to befriend them, perhaps convince her mother to buy one. It made him smile, watching them.

“She really likes ‘em, don’t she?” Beau asked, wandering back over to them.

Y/N smiled, a bit guarded. “She does. You’re still here,” she said, as though uncertain as to why he stayed around. She was unaware of his true mission around the farmer’s market—which was, he’d been asked to play security while behaving as a visitor.

“Figured I’d stock up on some honey and bread. Never know when you’ll need ‘em,” he said lightly. He didn’t want to be overheard telling her the true reason. He wanted the thief, whoever they were, to be discouraged by his interest in the market.

“And here I thought you might be searching for goats to deputize,” she teased, her tone light but guarded.

Beau chuckled, his gaze flicking to Eliza, who was staring at him with wide, curious eyes. “What about you, darlin’? You keepin’ your mom on her toes?”

“Goat!” Eliza announced with authority, pointing at Beau as though he might transform into one. Were she more determined, he would not have been surprised if he did shapeshift.

“Not quite, sweetheart,” Beau said, tipping his hat to her. “But I can take ya to see the real ones again if your mom’s okay with it.”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers curling around the strap of her bag. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Beau interrupted gently. His green eyes met hers, steady and earnest. “Let me.”

Something in his tone made her relent. “All right. But if she tries to ride one, you’re on your own.”

“That’s a deal I’ll take,” Beau said with a wink, making Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

He extended his arms, and to Y/N’s astonishment, Eliza immediately leaned toward him, her tiny hands grasping at his shirt. Y/N’s breath caught as their fingers brushed during the exchange, the brief touch sending a jolt of warmth through her.

Beau carried Eliza with ease, his low chuckles blending with her delighted squeals as they approached the goat pen. Y/N trailed behind, watching as Beau crouched beside the fence, holding Eliza securely while she reached out to pet a curious goat. The scene was so natural, so easy, it made her chest ache in a way she couldn’t quite name.

“You’ve got a way with her,” Y/N said softly, leaning on the fence beside him.

Beau glanced up at her, his expression warm. “She’s a good kid. Takes after her mom, I reckon.”

Y/N looked away, her cheeks flushing at the compliment. “Careful, Beau. I might start thinking you’re trying to win us both over.”

“Is it workin’?” he asked, his tone teasing but underpinned with genuine curiosity.

Their eyes met, the bustling market fading into the background. Y/N’s lips parted as if to respond, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. It wasn’t just the playful banter or Beau’s easy charm—it was the sincerity in his gaze, the way he held Eliza with such care, as though she was already part of his world.

Before she could answer, Eliza wriggled in Beau’s arms, her tiny fingers tugging at his badge. “Shiny!” she declared. She seemed obsessed with the badge, unable to stop focusing on it regardless of the fact she’d seen it before.

“Shiny, huh?” Beau said with a grin, adjusting her in his arms. “Guess I better keep it polished if I want to impress.”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and genuine, and for a moment, the tension between them softened into something warm and promising. As Beau handed Eliza back to her, their fingers brushed again, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“I’ll let you ladies get back to your shopping,” Beau said, tipping his hat. “It was nice to see you again, Y/N. Wolf-child,” he added, lightly touching Eliza’s cheek.

“It was,” Y/N replied, her voice soft but tinged with a smile.

As he walked away, Beau couldn’t help but glance back, catching Y/N watching him with an expression that made his heart race. It wasn’t a promise, not yet—but it was enough to make him believe there was something worth waiting for.

The day at the farmer’s market wound down, the once-bustling stalls now quieter as vendors packed up their wares. The air carried a golden warmth, and the earlier chaos of the market softened into a tranquil buzz. Y/N balanced a bag of fresh produce in one hand, Eliza on her hip, and another bag dangling precariously from her wrist. Her hair, which had started the day neatly pinned back, was now loosened into soft waves from the gentle breeze and her attempts to keep up with her toddler.

“Goat! Maaa!” Eliza chirped again, pointing back toward the pen, her energy unrelenting despite the late hour.

“Sweetheart, we’ve already said goodbye to the goats,” Y/N said, adjusting her grip on the wriggling child. “And Mommy is out of hands right now.”

As if summoned by fate—or perhaps a touch of divine intervention—Beau appeared, his tall frame and easy smile a welcome sight. He approached with an amused glint in his green eyes, his boots crunching softly against the gravel.

“Looks like you could use a hand,” he drawled, tipping his hat slightly.

Y/N exhaled a laugh, part relief, part exasperation. “I hate to admit it, but yeah. It’s been a long day, and this one’s got more energy than the rest of us combined.”

Beau reached out, his hand brushing hers as he gently took the bag from her wrist. “Here. Let me lighten the load.”

The touch lingered just a moment too long, and Y/N felt her pulse quicken. She glanced at him, her lips parting slightly as if to respond, but the words stayed lodged in her throat.

“Darlin’, I think you’ve got too much pride to ask, but I’m offering,” Beau said softly, his voice carrying a low, intimate warmth. “Let me help.”

Y/N hesitated, then nodded, her throat suddenly dry. “Thank you,” she murmured, shifting Eliza into a more comfortable position.

Beau took the remaining bag from her, easily managing both as they walked toward her car. The gravel path was quiet now, their footsteps and Eliza’s soft babbling the only sounds. When they reached the car, Y/N set Eliza down momentarily, letting the toddler cling to her leg as she opened the trunk.

“Here we go,” Beau said, placing the bags gently inside. “All set.”

Y/N straightened, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face as she turned to him. “You’re a lifesaver. I don’t think I’d have made it without dropping something—or someone.”

Beau grinned, his gaze steady and a touch more intense now. “It’s what I do, darlin’. Always happy to help.”

The tension between them thickened, the air seeming to hum with unspoken words. Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest as she looked up at him, the late afternoon sunlight catching the angles of his face. Her breath hitched slightly when she noticed how his gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there.

“Beau…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Y/N,” he said, stepping closer, his hand coming up to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. His touch was warm, his fingers grazing her cheek as his green eyes locked onto hers. “May I?”

The question was unnecessary. She tilted her head up in answer, and in the next breath, his lips were on hers. The kiss started soft, exploratory, but quickly deepened, heat sparking between them like a struck match. Beau’s hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her closer as her arms instinctively came up to rest on his chest.

The world around them seemed to fade—the distant chatter of the market, the rustle of the trees. All that mattered was the warmth of his lips, the way his hand splayed against her back, anchoring her to him. Y/N’s fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, her body leaning into his as though drawn by gravity.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing harder, their foreheads resting together. Y/N felt lightheaded, her cheeks flushed, her lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss.

Beau smiled, his voice low and rough. “Darlin’, I think I owe you another date. A proper one this time.”

Y/N laughed softly, her hand still resting against his chest. “You sure you’re ready for another disaster?”

He chuckled, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek. “If it ends like this, I’ll take all the disasters you’ve got.”

She smiled, her heart fluttering in her chest. “All right, Beau. You’ve got yourself another chance.”

“Count on it,” he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of a promise as he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.

As Beau helped settle Eliza into her car seat and waved them off, Y/N couldn’t stop the small, hopeful smile that lingered on her lips. Maybe, just maybe, second chances weren’t so bad after all.

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28, @deansimpalababy, @daisychaingirl

@nancymcl, @deans-baby-momma, @kickingitwithkirkb

[jackiequick]

How Lucy Met Ollie | Smallville Fanfic

Paring: Oliver & Lucy

———

Setting: Season six episode ‘Sneeze’

Characters: Oliver Queen, Lucy Kent and Lois Lane

Mentioned characters: Senator Martha Kent, Clark Kent & etc

—^^0–

Summary: When Oliver Jonas Queen came to the Kent Farm, last thing he expected was to find a beauty…

———

The sky was partly cloudy, sun shining across Smallville every one in a while. Seemed like it might rain later on, but at the moment it was shiny skies for the townsfolk.

His car parked a few feet away from the household, stepping out of the car, Oliver smiled. Beautiful house, old fashioned and smell like a warm slice of homemade apple pie. He loves pie. Some flowers even scattered around the front yard.

He held a file in his hand, jogging up the steps to the house, knocking on the door twice as he assumed that it’s a large household so they might not hear him the first time. Just in case.

Once the door opens, Oliver Jonas Queen was dumbstruck when one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen turns to face him.

Ollie never thought of a encounter like this today. He was expecting to see Senator Kent or someone else. But not a lovely young women is dark hair, a pink baseball t-shirt and a beauty mark next to her roundly shaped nose.

“Yes?” Said the women, when Ollie kept staring at him like she had something on her face.

“Oh um. Yeah, sorry.” He laughed breathlessly, “I came to deliver this to your home.”

He gladly extended the envelope to her, she took it and slipped it underneath her arm.

“Queen Industries.” Read the dark haired beauty with a slight rasp in her voice, “Great! Mom was waiting for this to arrive.”

Oliver found the rasp in the voice cute and something he hasn’t seen too much in women he met. Wait mom?! Is that-does that mean-? He would’ve mistaken her to a young Senator Kent if he didn’t know what she looked like in the first place.

Or at least, her assistant.

No one told Ollie that Martha Kent was blessed with the most beautiful daughter. He wondered if she had more kids, two daughters? A son? Oh god, Oliver would have a field day and never want to leave!

If they have told him, Ollie would’ve brought flowers to the farm.

And a ticket to see a movie.

“You mean to say, you’re Senator Kent’s daughter?” Asked Oliver to confirm his decision.

“The one and only!” Replied Mrs. Kent’s daughter delighted.

“How wonderful.”

“Uh, thank?”

He was laying it on thick, as one can see.

She chuckled, thinking that this blonde was a sight for sore eyes. A supermodel with that charming smile, bright chocolate brown eyes and fluffy spiked up hair. One word to describe him, playful.

He’s probably taken by a gorgeous young blonde with blue eyes and killer curves. Lady killer.

If someone told her that Oliver Queen was coming, she would’ve prepared him a little gift to take home after he given her the files.

“And what do they call yo—” Oliver started.

“Lucy? Is something w-” called someone, unknowingly answering Ollie’s questions, “-oh! Who’s this?”

A lovely young blonde, probably older than the brunette, appeared joining Lucy at the door. GOD DAMN! Are there any more drop-dead gorgeous women in this house? Is Martha Kent hiding them all in her barn?!

He should’ve returned home to Smallville a long ass time ago then! Are they sisters? Cousins?

God Oliver wouldn’t be surprised if another showed up within the next few seconds. His grin is just growing by the minute he’s standing at their doorstep.

Honestly Oliver doesn’t care, all he knows that Mrs. Martha Kent was hiding beautiful women in this house and no one thought to tell him.

“Hey.” Said the blonde women, taking a breath when she sees him.

“Hi.” Ollie replied with a charming smile.

The women keeps on smiling at him. Again, gorgeous! Ollie internally winces, he’s been blessed today but doesn’t know how to truly handle it.

He likes both women’s beautiful grins and hint of amusements in the older ones voice.

Lois chuckled, smiling onto the way this man carried himself. Just like her friend, she found him super cute. Charming like a prince, but layback like a cool surfer boy.

Meanwhile the way he dressed screamed business causal with a hint of a playfulness that she liked.

“I’m Oliver.” He said offering another sunny smile.

“Lois. Lois Lane.” Said the blonde women with a grin, shaking his hand.

“And I’m Lucy, as you already gather from that.” Added the brunette with a smile.

“I had. Can i say, it’s a real pleasure to meet both of you, ladies.” He purred.

Lucy tried holding back a giggled, bitting the inside of her cheek and nodding.

Lois chuckled, holding up five bucks to him and said, “You know with a face like that, you can do a lot better than playing errand boy to the rich and arrogant.”

“Thank you very much but what is-is?” Oliver replied with a smile, sorta confused.

“You’re tip.”

“It’s a tip. Okay.”

“Seriously, aim higher.”

“Listen um—”

But before he could finished, Lois slammed the door in his face with a smile and walked back to her place on the kitchen counter. Oliver stood there, huffing not getting a moment to come out with a full sentence.

Lucy laughed shrugged watching her mother come in and ask Lois Lane who was at the door, as you can see the total embarrassment and emotions of regret wash over her punky friend’s face. The realization fell on both of their faces as her mother causally told them who that guy actually was.

As her mother left, Lois looked at her friends muttering, “That was Oliver Queen.”

“Yup!” Lucy replies wincing at the foolish timing at their actions and quickly race out of the door.

“Where are you going?!” Yelled Lois from her seat, watching the brunette go.

“To grab a coffee with Oliver Queen!”

“Ohh! I’m gonna go apologize to your mom.”

“And I gotta apologize to him.”

———

Once Lucy was stumbling out of the steps of their nicely sized two story house, popping out her the collar to her jacket, the women looked around for the man. Never mind that, she was wondering if he came by car or foot!

Cause if this man came by either motorcycle or something, it would definitely harder to catch up to the blonde. Moments like this she wished she had Clark’s X-Ray vision or super speedy legs but sadly she wasn’t given the time to wonder, as out of the far left corner of her eye she saw it.

A deep black cherry car driven past the fields of the small freshly grounded land. There he was. She scurried out the gateway, racing past the tall grass and chilly weather trying to reach the car.

She ran up as fast as she could, trying to reach at least close to the side of the car, yellling out his name.

“Oliver! Hey!” She yelled out repeatedly when suddenly a screeching halt was loud that the cows from a yard away might’ve heard it.

Oliver heard a mix of yelling, shouting and screaming from behind the far right of his ear, looking at the rear view mirror to see the brunette from earlier. He gasped slightly, with a cheeky chuckle at the sight. She looked kinda silly racing toward a car that ran faster than her.

He started to slow down his car, wanting to tease the women a bit speeding up once he saw she got closer. Oliver laughed, reversing his energy into driving the car to the quickest speed he could without causing any damage or anything to the road.

Finally he noticed that he was wasting time, yelling back a joke about how slow she was as he came into a screeching halt that was too loud. He leaned against his driver seat, seeing her benched over her knees panting and huffing, mumbling softly ‘finally’.

He opened the door for her and told her hand, helping her inside the passenger seat with a soft smile and tossed her a water bottle. She quietly thanked him by taking the water and downing a large gulp, breathing heavily with a chuckle.

“Didn’t you hear me?” She asked with a smile, shaking her head.

“I did. But what the hell made you think you can outrun a Supercar?” He joked with a matching smile.

“Uh, i don’t know. But you slowed down a few times?”

“I was trying to see if you can take the heat.”

“Not funny. And not nice either, Mr. Queen?”

“Mr. Queen? Who told you?”

She panted with another chuckled, “My mother, she confirmed who you were. Lois didn’t know.”

“I can tell.” He replies holding up the 5 bucks from earlier, “She tipped me! But it’s fine, I wasn’t thinking straight either.”

“I can tell. You were kinda out of it. My mom wants to hopefully meet up with you later, if that’s alright?”

“I was hoping i would have time to meet her this afternoon anyway. I can do 5 o’clock.”

“Why 5? She’s free to talk now, if you like.”

“No, because I think i owe Senator Kent’s daughter small lunch after what i did. You know, trying to make a first impression on her?”

“Well played. Sure I’ll love that, Ollie.”

He smiled at the nickname, taking her out of a small drive around the town before a quick lunch at The Talon. Hopefully next time he can take her or Lois Lane out to Metropolis for a date.

She returned the smile, liking him already seeing something unique within this man, who just met but she didn’t what it is yet.

Little did she know that, Oliver Queen would become a longtime friend and future part of her extended-family.

——

———

AHH! ☺️ I had fun writing this it’s been in my drafts for ages!!! Let me know what you think 💭

For the those of who are wondering about Lex Luthor and Lucy Kent? Don’t worry I’m working on something special yet specific for them! 😉

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @aidanxsophxoxo @rickb-chaos @starkleila @infinetlyforgotten @meiramel @sherloquestea @djs8891 @buckysteveloki-me @yetanotherwells @ximehs @rose-of-oz @rowinablx

[inubaki]

Wrong Apple

Abandonment Issues

Adam became intrigued the moment his oldest son, Asmodeus, was announced in line for a requested audience. Adam raised his head from his books and softly ordered Jitez to repeat.

His servant, Jitez, was an imp of a nervous temper, currently fingering the announcement obsessively as if he was stammering out his own death warrant. Adam kept the imp around for being so blatantly naked in expressing his regards wards certain visitors. Jitez’s consistent predictability earned him a lot of trust in first impressions. (How someone treated one’s staff spoke about their creature.) And why his Asmodeus‘s name would earn such a nervous response normally was enough to give him pause.

Yet, Adam was enticed enough to push back his normal inquiries when regarding his offsprings. Especially a summons from Prince of Lust where they were normally nonexistent.

“Send him in,” Adam said curtly before falling back to his other files of state. His quick dismissal sent his imp into a scurry out the polished doors heading out directly into a single hallway. A long hallway of marble flooring perfectly echoing the tiny tapping of Jitez’s little hooves. Adam counted each small tap til number correctly meet the other side of the hall at 62 steps. Only then did Adam truly allow himself to fall back into his work.

It was around that time again. ———

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

‘Deep breathes, Asmodeus. DEEP breathes..’ the eldest of sins goggled a miniature Fizzy in his mind. Slipping in and out realty with a practiced patience—

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He exhaled deeply before warily creaking an eye open in direction wards his tiny charge. What felt like hours, escalating into years, the sin of Lust watched his tiny companion plucking incessantly through Asmodeus’s least favorite decor in any office in any existence. Picking up a single candy just to drop back down with a loud;

Tap. Tap. Tap. Ta——-

“Finding anything you like?” he asked as politely as his sarcasm would allow.

His ill disguised companion froze mid-candy toss. Large blue eye raising to meet innocently with his own, one eye slowly blinking before the other. Asmodeus’s expression flattened. Everything about this him seemed to be in direct contrast to entirely everything Asmodeus knew to be his mother’s type.

“I’m… nervous…” the man admitted subconsciously reaching for the rim of a hat that wasn’t there. His expression twisting in layers of awkwardness and discontent before grabbing another candy to drop back in again.

“Understandable. I get it. Ya like to keep your mind off things…—“

Tap.

“But that’s … kind of my dad’s head yer plucking through” he finally admitted, gesturing uncomfortably wards the bone made candy bowl.

More specifically, it was a polished skull left to collect dust whose once living features Asmodeus was too young to even remember. But his explanation seemed to catch the wigged male’s attention, blue eyes widening as they ping-ponging between him and the bowl. Instead of the expected disgust, the strange man dropped the cheap caramel, only to lift the whole ‘bowl’ to eye level.

“Dude….” “Addie killed his mate?” “What? Nah! None of them went that far”.

Something wet slipped passed the man’s lips while his eyes deepened with a look the sin of Lust could clearly recognize. It only to Asmodeus‘s level of discomfort ten-fold. ‘Is this little weirdo drooling at the thought of mom killing—‘

Asmodeus broke the thought before his patience and sanity evaporated entirely.

“First off, you shouldn’t call Mom, Addie…” It felt to soft, to endearing to belong to the parent that raised him. Not for a lack of love, but outside of parenting, Asmodeus and Adam’s views couldn’t be more different in the views of actual love. “Second… my dad started a coup to take the throne from mom and he didn’t take to kindly to that. The ‘bowl’ you’re playing with, is just ‘Addie’ saying he wasn’t even worth being made an example of”.

The tiny man only blinked slowly.

“….so… there were others…?” The man said quietly, almost to himself. Ozzy tensed in natural defensiveness wards his mother despite himself.

“All of us have different fathers. Haven’t you heard anything about the games? I thought that’s why you came—-“.

Just in time for the last one.

A chill creeped up Asmodeus‘s spine at the thought and wondered again to himself if any of this was worth the risk. Most angelics had more than a few things to say about his mother’s activities. Yet… fuck… was it so stupid to hope that this angel was telling the truth?

“Well… at least there’s ONE less to worry about…” Lucifer shrugged off his grimness and bloomed into a wide childish smile. The actual joy emitting from the him brought Asmodeus more of a sense of foreboding than comfort. Towards a long dead man’s skill, Lucifer’s expression so sweetly based lacked entirely of warmth.

When his name was called, Asmodeus wasn’t surprised to notice the fractured indents left on his father’s lifeless head after being unceremoniously dropped with a crash.

The angel covered his own cheeks glowing an unusual yellow across his cheeks. The litter of spilled candy completely forgotten.

“I can almost smell him….”

————

Something was off, Adam could hear it in the uneven steps coming down the hall. Even Ozzy’s lover held a recognizable rhythm, but something else was falling in line with his son’s. As it was Asmodeus‘a habit to match another’s pace dispute his size. Adam was half way to standing when Asmodeus shout of surprise was disrupted but the sudden combustion of Adam’s office doors off their hinges.

That smell…

“ADDIE!!!!!!!!”

Blue eyes, a falling wig, Asmodeus‘s ratty work style uniform. Him——

Adam found himself entirely engulfed by what could only be described as a fever dream. Yet his own arms rose to despite himself. A move so instinctual that the time which separated them from here to the fields of Eden seemed to entirely vanish.

“Addie….. my Addie…!” a wet cry coming in between a shower of kisses. What part of Adam that wasn’t being assaulted by his lips, were mashed with Lucifer’s scent. Rubbing his entire cheek and neck against Adam’s, a move no one had dared to attempt expect for his children.

Omega to omega.

Something Adam hadn’t expected was also the frantic muttering. A cross between the old human word and ancient angelic dialect, Lucifer rippled one in a manic chant.

“DONTLEAVE. DONTLEAVE. DONTLEAVE. DONTLEAVE. HERE. WITHME. NOW. ALWAYS. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. DONT. LEAVE. ME”.

‘Shit…’

It was enough to pull Adam’s heart and rewaken him back to reality.

This wasn’t Eden anymore then this man was his mate.

The memory of nights Adam could feel ‘her’ between Lucifer’s legs shattered any softness Adam had begun to bare.

The scent, the memories, HIM; all good things quickly turned rancid on Adam’s tongue. And with cold eyes he caught his son’s stunned expression through the broken doorway. Conveying all his contempt with a single look till his sob had the decency to look ashamed. Had it been anyone else…

Adam didn’t move him til he felt Lucifer move closer to his marred neck. Only then did, Adam maneuvered a hand between the six sets of wings, fully groping at the oil glands for the immediate effect. Lucifer jerked in a magnificent spreading of blue feathers, knocking over shelves and decor by its sheer wingspan. Bellowing a startled moan again and again under Adam’s hand before slumping bonelessly again Adam’s frame. Ozzy watched the whole thing, turning sickly pale with widening with recognition before narrowing in immediate disgust.

“Ozzy…”. Adam adjusted the angel to cradle him against his left side. Safely away from his mating glands. Distractingly, he emanated an omega’s comforting purr through bared teeth, enticing the naïve angel to nuzzle closer.

“Care to explain yourself?”

——-

As the sin of lust Ozzy hates that Adam can use intimacy against someone. And to find out that Adam basically subdued the first angels in order to take them for torture, is one of the many reasons they don’t get along. No matter if the reason is justified or not in keeping Hell safe.

The fact he just found out Adam only knew because of his previous romps with someone he actually loved only made it worse.

@adamsapple-angst-week-2025

[bts5sosempire]

the tyrant (vi); side two

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna ryomen x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3,443

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: old time period, mention of arranged marriage, polygamous marriages, slow-burn yandere, power imbalances, peer pressure, anxiety attack (beginning, it's mc), superstition involved, etc.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "you were the apple of Sukuna’s eyes, the one who brought him solace and everything. The only thing you were incapable of was giving him a child, an heir he wished to spoil like he did to you."

𝐚/𝐧: so I finally churn and did the other half, I didn't proof read this btw. For now letting y'all simmer in this one. Pls like, comment down below for tagging, and reblogged if you like! Thank you for your patience lovelies! 💖✨️

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Your heart was hammering that it resounded loudly in your ears, and you could feel your blood rushing through every part of your body and veins. You were scared. Sukuna quickly departed after the revelation and reveled in your horrid expression; he had made it clear what his intentions with you were; this time, it wasn't just a fleeting dream you could avoid. It's a reality now. You quickly dismiss everyone to go on break, much to their appreciation, and then throw yourself into an abandoned room where no soul is around.

Once inside the room, your legs give out just in time as you drop onto the floor while screwing your eyes shut tightly when your body goes through rapid temperature changes. Your anxiety keeps spiking up as you struggle to breathe correctly; one of your clammy hands grips the collar of your kimono in pain while the other is blindingly holding the door shut. To prevent anyone from coming in and seeing you like this.

You waited until your anxiety went down and your throat was not encasing itself like a boa. The inside of your mouth tasted dry like chalk, yet it was slimy. Even your body glides in light sweat when you can feel them forming on your forehead too. It feels pretty hot now despite the cold air inside the room. The fabulous cape on your shoulders reminds you of Sukuna's presence, and you tear it off and throw it as far as you can in a fit of weak anger. The sudden anxiety attack left you tired when you tried to move further inside the room but couldn't and just hopelessly lay still against the door.

Your stomach gnaws in discomfort, and the sourness pools inside. You tried to steer your mind away from Sukuna, and it's hard. The problem seems to arise after another when you think you have taken yourself out of it. Your mind reels that there's nowhere to hide anymore; this is too much for you to bear at the given moment.

Cursing at yourself, tears pools around your eyes, and your vision blurs for a second. Wiping them away before they can fall only enables the dam to be broken; once one falls, all starts to cascade down your face. The quiet sniffles and hiccuping down your voice echo around the vacant room quietly; you cry over many things, but the fear of losing your individuality and becoming Sukuna's scares you the most. You don't want to submit to someone like him.

Your bracelet was the only thing that gave you peace and comfort, knowing that you still had complete control over your anatomy. Your rights to your life, but he had to take that away from you, didn't he? Using your sleeves to wipe out the tears, you fiddle with the bangle and see it is polished when turning it around on your wrist. You unclasped the lock and saw the small door on the inside was sealed shut. If Sukuna thoroughly modifies your bangle, then the residue of basil should be gone too.

Without much thought, you gradually pick up your bearing and act normal again, like you didn't experience any turmoil. Once you go back out there, you have to face everything again. You're sure that mouths were already flapping around with rumors and stories of the stunt Sukuna had pulled prior. Looking at the forgotten cloak that pools on the floor, disgust fills your red-rimmed eyes. There was a heavy sigh from your lips; you pondered whether you should leave it there to be found by someone else or pick it up and hand it to someone to give it back.

If you were to wear it again, you would have to meet him and return it in person. You don't want to see him; the fear of him subsides only a little bit, and it is slowly replaced with bitterness. Graciously picking it up, you decided to find the nearest available servant. "You two there," You call out when opening the door. Your presence startled two maids that jumped up in fright, and they quickly bowed before sticking close together. "Take this to Lord Sukuna," handing the cloak over to them; they took it from your hands gently despite being hesitant to do so while trembling at the mention of his name since everyone was afraid of Sukuna.

When you're out of sight, two young maids do what they are told when walking out of the long corridor. One suddenly said, "Did you see Lady (Name) eyes? I think she was crying." It piqued her friend's interest, but they shook their head. "I didn't see it; I'm too nervous to look at her."

"I guess it was confirmed earlier when Lord Sukuna came by to visit Lady (Name); nobody was close enough to hear what they were saying, but as soon as his Lord left..." The first maid was continuing to whisper to her friend until a figured pop around the corner.

It was Uraume, and both shut up instantly and properly greeted Sukuna's retainer. Uraume barely acknowledges their existence and walks on to help you with decorations. It was until they spoke loudly for only those two to hear, "It would be in your best interest to be careful about what you utter around. Every day, heads roll around in the execution yard."

That was enough for them to walk away faster.

°

Sukuna stares at a 3d map in front of him; it shows the whole region of Japan, but he's more concerned about the mountains. Up in the hills were the Heiyan people, native to the harsh nature there. For as long as Sukuna knows, they have been a thorn in his side. They are nothing but vicious in his eyes, deluding themselves from the path of advancing modern technology. The Heiyan are known to be strict with their traditional values; they rarely derive from their beliefs, as they don't even mix their blood with other people, only their own.

Sukuna wanted rare ores from there, but they made it difficult for him to gather as they had pushed him away. He knows that marriage is always a topic when dealing with anything political. The chieftain of the Heiyan, Cheif Mozuru, was a stubborn man. The only way to access the land was to marry one of his four daughters, but Sukuna was also a mule, perverse in his thought that they weren't worthy of him.

The War Demon has taste, but he wouldn't lower himself to be with them as they expect him to change too. They also wish for him to convert to their beliefs, and much to Sukuna's dismay, he rejects the notion on the spot. Now they are at war with each other.

But there was exciting news that was brought to him the other day by a spy who he had happened to bribe. The spy was no further than an agent from a neighboring rival, Totsuwa Iriyu. The man was marrying the second eldest daughter to secure a treaty. News of Sukuna trying to get access to the land was probably the main reason why Totsuwa decided to strike. Totsuwa was often an overzealous man, having been trying to pine down Sukuna's title for the longest as he knew. And for another reason.

Sukuna was the reason why Totsuwa's father died in the first place—he framed the poor senile man for converting power secretly and trying to raise a coup d'etat against the former Emperor.

"You should be thankful that your father had passed away peacefully." Sukuna chuckled lowly into Totsuwa's ear with the intent of throwing salt to the wound. The blood of Totsuwa's father drips down the Sukuna's face onto Totsuwa's garb. The son could only watch with eyes wide with shock and terror as his father's corpse, hollow vacant eyes with their mouth wide loose, reflected in his eyes. The blood that seeps from the open slash across the torso dyed the tatami mat red.

Sukuna then patted the latter shoulder a few times and stood up from his one-kneeling position and out the door. The blade shines brightly from the moonlight despite it being coated in droplets of red.

With the death of Totsuwa's father, Sukuna was granted more of the Emperor's grace for taking such a jaded person out, making him unstoppable. If it was known, the Totsuwa household name fell from grace as they were no longer invited to be a part of the Emperor's insiders. Soon, more fell off their seat, and only a few remained behind. The Gojo, Geto, Zen'in, and a newly formed clan, the Fushiguro.

To add more history, Sukuna was the one who put Emperor Hoshu up on that seat by assassinating their younger half-brother, Hoshen, during a power struggle.

Sukuna then gazes to the side of the table where his cloak lays. Two hesitant maids returned it, saying you ordered them to return it to him. What Sukuna had done may have spooked you. Returning his items is like returning his undesirable affection, as always; this is nothing new to him. He already got a grasp on you; all he needs to do is tighten it and let you submit yourself into his palm and accept his pampering.

"Doctor," Sukuna spoke up suddenly, and the physician almost toppled their pills to the side with fright. "How long would it take Lady (Name) to conceive?"

"Depends; in the meantime, she shouldn't consume anything such as medicine and concoctions for at least a week. Feeding her anything may disrupt the blood flow and cause a clot in her system, as her body needs to be recovered naturally." They nervously explained to Sukuna, who was considering their words.

Sukuna: "If she can't consume anything now, is there a way to speed up the process?"

The doctor ponders momentarily, "There might be a way, but it's a slippery slope." They look around the room and then pause to stare at the door for long seconds, then cup their mouth to whisper at Sukuna. "There is this rumored famous witch doctor among the locals, especially for the ladies, that they can cure any afflictions."

"Surely you're not jesting me? I'm a man who believes in advanced warfare and science, not superstitions." Sukuna gives the man a dubious gaze that tests the physician, "What (Name) suffered from is internally inside her body, not spiritually."

The doctor rapidly waves their hands, "You're mistaken, My Lord! It's also not about spirituality; they can also cure the body and let it return to its natural state physically. What you say about Lady (Name) is accurate; if you wish to remove the coldness that makes her unviable, I suggest you visit them!"

Sukuna pinch the bridge of his nose; he regrets even asking and should wait for your time limit to be up. "You do understand that you sound like a cuckoo, right?"

°

"This is ridiculous," Sukuna muttered under his breath. His red steed snorts and clomps its hooves against the pebble ground to agree with their master. In front of him two days later, he decided to visit the shaman's house ground. He had left the estate in secret, not without informing Uraume to keep an eye on you, and traveled a few hours out of his domain by horse to throttle up a pathway to a steep mountain.

There were no signs of life when he arrived, so much for being a famous shaman. Climbing off his horse, he ties the reins against a tree stump. Sukuna went further inside the location, his piercing red eyes scraping any signs if anyone was residing in this place.

The only thing that was presentable in front of him was a red door, and inside were countless candles lit. Sukuna heads inside with slow, studious steps that not even a trained ear can hear him. Hand at the hilt of the sword that was strapped by his side.

The further he walks in, it reminds him of the time he was targeted or willfully let himself be away by an enemy into the danger zone. Sukuna could feel a presence coming close to him, and the hand that held the hilt tightened.

With a quick draw from the scabbard, a ting resounds in the air through the available space of the building. Sukuna turned around with precision and let a full swing as his blade rested neatly against the stranger's neck; just a few more centimeters and their head would be swiped clean off and hit the ground. "Who are you?" Sukuna demanded, his red orbs locking onto the person, not phased by his overbearing attitude.

"Is this how a guest greets the owner of this place?" The person scoffs. They raise a finger and push the sharp edge away from their neck. "Although you're not the first nor likely be the last to do so." The shaman had had multiple occurrences of almost getting their heads chopped off due to virtually having little to no presence. "I'm quite impressed that you could detect me, Lord Sukuna. " They ask, "What special occasion has brought you here to my humble adobe?" Their tone changes to sweet and sultry in an instant.

"I've heard you are a good witch doctor from an acquaintance of mine," Sukuna starts, and the shaman only hums before guiding Sukuna to follow and sit on a pillow across from them.

"Who exactly did you get it from?" Sukuna gives the doctor's name, and they roll their eyes sarcastically, "I see it's that moron." Getting comfortable with themselves, they propped an arm up the table and lay sideways with their hips and curve showing. They give off an androgynous physique. "If they led you this far to me, I guess I could help. What is the problem?"

"It's about my wife," Sukuna curtly replies.

"Ah, that fair maiden?" They gave a knowing look, and Sukuna knew the shaman thought of you. Sukuna didn't miss how the unhidden admiration of mirth in their eyes was so bright it could be a night sky. He is slightly agitated by that acknowledgment. "Lady (Name) is quite a character, I looked up their star chart, and it was filled with many things. She has quite a life, I should say."

"I came here for help, not to idle." Sukuna's voice got gruff, and the shaman cleared their throat and recomposed. "Recently, I have learned that she doesn't have fertility issues but was caused by something else, and before you run your mouth, it's not anything relating to your superstitions ideology. She causes it herself semi-permanently."

"And the cause is?" They inquire with a raised brow.

"Basil. Basil seeds, she doesn't consume them, but wears them." That's all that the shaman needs to know where it's heading. It's uncommon to stumble upon women making them sterile to prevent unwanted pregnancy. The shaman had come across a crisis like this a few years ago prior.

"You wanted me to remove the cold affliction in her body?" There was a slight smile from them, but it was daunting. "I could, but there is a heavy price to pay."

Sukuna: "How much do you need?"

Shaman: "It is not gold being used for this transaction; what do you think the womb that creates life is equivalent to?"

[At the same time.]

It was quiet at the manor, with a few more decorations; it should be complete. There was a proud breath of air exhaling from your chest; all you need is to finalize everything and report to your mother-in-law. The thought of Hanami made you feel disgruntled, "Everyone, please take a quick break before we continue." A murmur of thanks filled the air.

"Let's go, Yumi," taking a walk; you were chatting with her, making small jokes here and there. Occasionally Yumi reminds you that she represents a simpler time when you were still young and didn't have this much weight on your shoulders.

"Is Concubine Asuna this dense?" An exacerbated pitch voice raised in the courtyard. You can hear two quiet sniffles; it belongs to a woman and a child. Concubine Asuna held her weeping son in her arms as two higher-upper consorts bullied them.

"She's a person with no backbone, yet dares to be courageous," another concubine snide, "even the boy doesn't even look like Lord Sukuna. Do you think she slept around?"

"Probably," the same annoying voice quip back and laughs at the thought. "Plain and undeserving too. Hey, take off your outer layer, or these servants will."

"Under whose order?" You stepped in, and the two concubines, along with their subjects, froze when they saw you walking toward them with a cold, menacing gaze that could cut a person down.

"We were just teaching Concubine Asuna manners Lady (Name)," the concubine with the pitched voice sputters out; they kept their head low, and so did everyone else. No one dares to look at you in the eyes except for Asuna's child, that looks at you with comprehensive, wondering grey eyes. You represent Sukuna.

"And by sullying Lord Sukuna's name and one of his heirs?" You tilt your head to the side with a questioning gaze, and there is a click of your tongue when they start denying with nervous laughter. "I was standing not that far away from here and heard everything, so you say I am deaf?"

"That's not what we're implying, Lady (Name)!" The second concubine cries, lifting their head to meet you, with no other excuses; they spit out the first thing that comes to mind. "You're just bullying us since Lord Sukuna favors you!"

This made you laugh. "Oh? Interesting. Should I bring it to His Lord, then?"

The second concubine put a hand over her mouth and sped away; the first one could only watch with disbelief as she was abandoned by one of her supposed allies. She sneers at you with hatred and then follows suit. "Are you alright?" You ask. Asuna only nodded. You grab her by the arm and pull her up, "You should be careful."

You then eye the little boy who is no older than three. They looked at you, blinking a few times, and then continued. "Mommy, this is the princess on my book cover!" They point at you in happiness, and you look down at your garb.

"Danzo, that's not the princess," Asuna turned to you and mouthed a sheepish sorry.

"Yes, it is!" Danzo ripped their hand from their mother's hold and tried to wrap their chubby arms around your legs. They cheekily smile at you with their round, flush faces.

You were surprised that you didn't know how to react. Since you couldn't see the bewildered expression on your face, Asuna found you decent despite the stigma everyone labeled around you. You were hesitant as you are relatively flustered coming into contact with a child. Asuna noted that this was the first time one came to you willingly. You pat Danzo's head softly like you're handling a fragile glass. Even if it is maladroit, Danzo melts at the contact; their smile becomes buttery as little flowers float into the background. If they could sink into your clothes, they would.

"You can let go now," You bumble out, and they tighten their grip. Danzo rubbed their face into your legs as they let out a muffled 'no.' It was rare to see you be socially awkward, something so innocent as a child.

"Danzo, you need to listen, or you won't see Lady (Name) anymore." The boy gives their mother a stink eye before loosening their grip. Asuna pulled her son to her side.

With Danzo gone, you return to your normal state.

"My son and I should get going; sorry that you have to see such a sight," Asuna apologizes, and you brush it off with a hand, indicating it is alright.

"If they ever-" There was a ringing in your ears as your vision suddenly blurred in front of you in slow motion. Even sounds sounded such a damper. Your body was heating up, and you felt a searing pain shooting straight through your abdomen where your womb lays.

Staggering forward, everything went dark. The last thing you hear is Yumi crying out your name, and Asuna throws herself forward to catch you.

[The Shaman's place, current time.]

"Are you willing to trade one of your own for the health of her womb?" The shaman asks again. Preparation was already made, but they give another glance at Sukuna for confirmation.

Without hesitation, Sukuna answers.

"Yes."

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[nochukoo97]

netflix and chill;

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

Summary: Your boyfriend and you settle down after a long day of work, what seems to be like a peaceful night of netflix and pizza turns out to be a disaster when someone unexpected turns up at your front door

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and nicotine, Jungkook almost gets caught 😮, italics are in korean

Word count: about 1k

“Hi Jagi,” Your boyfriend greets you with a boyish grin as he leans down to peck you, “Miss you,” Jungkook mumbles as he climbs on top of your body and pecks all over your face. You giggle at the sudden burst of affection as your body wrapped in a blanket is caged by your boyfriend’s muscular one.

Jungkook had been at the tattoo parlour the whole day today, busy with new customers and appointments, so the moment you woke up, the space beside your bed was empty of your boyfriend.

“I bought pizza for us, come outside and eat?” He breaks the silence after a while, but you whine in response, “I’m a bit lazy baby, I just got in bed, don’t wanna leave,” you bury yourself further into the mattress and bring the blanket up to cover your face.

You almost scream when Jungkook pushes his arms under your body and lifts you off the bed, but somehow you’re already used to your boyfriend's usual antics, so you had guessed he would have done that. “Hey! Put me down,” You slap his tattooed arm as Jungkook stares at you in amusement. Still, you drop the blanket off your body and allow your boyfriend to carry you to the sofa outside.

When Jungkook rests you down on the couch, you immediately smell the pizza from the kitchen, and you trail behind him secretly, now in excitement at the smell of the food. “I thought you didn’t want to get up? Suddenly so eager huh?” Your boyfriend raises an eyebrow at you.

——————————————————————

The atmosphere is rather calming as you two sit side by side quietly munching on your food as you watch “The Glory” on your TV. There’s an absurd number of candles being lit up around the coffee table by your boyfriend who insists that it adds ambience, as well as Jungkook’s galaxy projector that lights up the living room further.

You notice at the corner of your eye, Bam chasing the lasers being flashed on the wall and you immediately whip out your phone to capture the moment. Jungkook laughs at the sight as he walks towards the fridge to grab two bottles of beer for you and him.

It's peaceful for another good thirty minutes when suddenly, the doorbell of the apartment rings, your boyfriend looks at you puzzled, both of you sure that no delivery was scheduled nor had you invited anyone over.

“Aigoo, look at you, have you been eating well?” The voice of Jungkook’s mum sounds throughout the apartment as your eyes widen in surprise. Jungkook’s parents were known to come unannounced, which was definitely not a good thing for your boyfriend since he was into many non-traditional things that his parents would typically frown at.

In this case, the bottles of beer and his Lost Mary on the coffee table were out on display for the whole world to see.

You approximately had a maximum of ten seconds to get rid of both items, so you grabbed the bottles and ran to the fridge to shove them with the many other alcoholic beverages stored in your shared fridge.

However, you end up being far too late to retrieve the other item as Jungkook’s parents walk into the living room with your boyfriend following behind with a nervous look on his face.

His eyes widen as he spots his Lost Mary on the table, head jerking almost vigorously in an attempt to get you to try and sneakily hide it away. But you also have no clue how to approach this situation as your boyfriend’s parents start to shower you with questions.

“Look at you! You’ve become even prettier since the last time we saw you, Aigoo,” Jungkook’s mum reaches for the apples of your cheeks as your boyfriend winces and gives you an apologetic look. You reply to her questions with eagerness as you tell her about you and Jungkook’s whereabouts in the past week.

“Gguk-ah, you have to eat healthier too, this pizza looks very oily!” Jungkook’s father starts to nag at him as he takes a closer look at the box of pizza on the coffee table.

Shit. One more look to the left and your boyfriend is busted.

“Hahaha, yes we were just about to keep it,” you put on a laugh as you reach to close the box, strategically reaching for his Lost Mary and hiding it under the box and you bring it to the fridge.

You then decide to shove it in your pocket for the time being, deciding that it was a better hiding spot than putting it in the fridge.

After about thirty more minutes of Jungkook’s parents catching up with the both of you, they finally decide to head back home.

Your boyfriend sighs as he shuts the front door.

“You saved me, almost got caught again,” your boyfriend talks between kisses as he cages you against the wall and kisses down your neck. You laugh as you reach into your pocket to give him back the item.

You push back his white beanie as you card your fingers through his hair, and your boyfriend sighs at the touch.

“Come on, let's go to bed, you’ve got work tomorrow again,” you free yourself from his hold, taking his hand you lead Jungkook back to your shared room after turning off the TV, and blow out the candles. Jungkook insists on bringing one to the room, to which you reluctantly agree, but your boyfriend looks happy as he stares at the flickering light with huge eyes, and you laugh in amusement at his antics.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

This...is long, much longer than I thought it would be but oh well. Enjoy Aurora being mean to Swiss. (He likes it.)

"...and that's Swiss."

When she had shaken the grinning ghoul's hand upon being introduced to him, Aurora had no idea how much fun she would have with him.

Because Swiss is tall, cocky, and too used to have the upper hand in his interactions with other ghouls.

Folded in an armchair, Aurora watches Swiss tease Dew until steam is pouring out of the fire ghoul's ear, to the multi's delight. Smug smile on his lips, Swiss cuts Dew's infuriated rambling short with just a few words, making the fire ghoul shake his head in disblief, helplessly charmed despite everything.

Aurora holds eye contact when Swiss glances at her, golden eyes full of mischief and the confidence he will get away with it. There's too much teeth in his grin, a touch unsettling but equal part endearing.

With a spring in his steps, he sets course for Aurora's armchair.

"Got some space for me princess ?"

Groaning, Aurora scoots until he can wiggle his way between her and the armrest ; it's tight, too tight, so Swiss grabs her by the hips and hauls her on his lap with a satisfied little noise. Aurora doesn't protest ; let him think she yielded to his whims like most people do, when in reality she has him exactly where she wants him.

It's easy to get Swiss to lower his guard down - not that he was wise enough to put it especially up in the first place. Aurora's painted claws scratching softly behind his ear is more than enough to have him relaxed an purring, eyes half closed.

That's when she strains to mumble in his ear.

"You were being mean to Dewy."

Swiss' ear flicks, golden rings threaded through it clinking together, and he hums lowly.

"Mmh...just a lil' bit."

Aurora tuts.

"How would you feel if I was being mean to you, uh ?"

Golden eyes slowly blink open as Swiss' small, content smile turns into a wide grin.

"You don't want me to answer this, princess."

Cocky, provocative. Aurora wants to make him cry. She curls her finger under his chin, lifting his head slightly.

"You think you'd like that, uh ? Me being mean ?"

Amusement dances in Swiss' eyes, along something tender that almost breaks Aurora's resolve. Almost.

"I know I would."

With a scoff, the ghoulette let go of his chin.

"You couldn't handle it."

There is no doubt Swiss will rise to the bait. There is a reason he, alongside Dewdrop, is banned from accepting challenges without someone to second guess it. Swiss' hands find their way to Aurora's waist, finding the silver of skin made accessible by her shirt riding up.

"No ? I think I could."

His enthusiasm sure is cute, so Aurora rewards him with a smile as she shifts to straddle one of his thighs. Swiss makes a happy noise, tail curling around one of her leg and chin coming to rest on her chest. The way he looks up at her catches Aurora off guard, though she takes care not to show it. She always forget that glint of reverence that never fails to show in the multi ghoul's eyes whenever he's looking at one of his packmates.

It's more than flattering, and for a moment, Aurora thinks about changing her plans-

"Plus, I don't think you can be mean to me, sweetheart. You'd feel too bad for me."

Nevermind, that motherfucker needs to be taken down a few pegs. Aurora harshly presses her thigh against Swiss' crotch, taking him by surprise and making him gasp, hands flexing around her waist before sliding down to her hips.

"Oh, trust me Swiss, I would take great pleasure in being merciless to you."

Swiss' tongue darts out to wet his lips, adam apple bobbing under the delicate skin of his throat as he swallows thickly.

"Do it. Won't you be mean to me, 'Rora ?"

It's not getting Swiss to drop that's hard. Aurora knows damn well how flexible the ghoul is ; it clearly isn't the first time he's subbing, not by a mile.

No, what will be a challenge will be to peel away Swiss' pride layer by layer. Because Swiss doesn't beg, or very rarely, doesn't really need to anyway most of the time. He has a tendency to get people to give him what he wants even when he's not supposed to be in control.

"If you ask nicely," Aurora whispers, claws running idly on Swiss' forearms. They are very nice, and she makes a mental note to explore that later.

Swiss cocks his head to the side, mouth pulling up in a smirk as he bats his eyelashes at Aurora.

"Please ?"

It's nowhere near pleading, leading toward provocative, but it's a start.

"Carry me to my room," Aurora decides.

"Bossy," Swiss comments even as he hauls her up until she can wrap her legs around his waist. As they pass the kitchen, they attract the attention of the four ghouls chatting there, which Swiss answers to with a grin almost too large for his face.

"Gentlemen," he nods at Dew and Mountain who look like they're trying to decipher whether they should interject or not, before swiftly balancing Aurora on one arm to grab Cumulus' hand, dropping a kiss to the back of it and doing the same for Cirrus.

"Ladies."

Cumulus shakes her head with a fond huff, while Cirrus glances at Aurora and mouthes "Wreck him".

Well that's just further motivation.

It takes more brainpower than Aurora expected not to let herself be distracted by Swiss effortlessly carrying her like that, but she pulls herself together just in time. The second he slams her bedroom's door shut behind them and sets her down, she takes a step back. Her features schooled in an unimpressed scowl, she sighs.

"You're a cocky bastard, you know that ?"

She only gets an impossibly wide grin for her troubles.

"I know. You love it."

It's easy to slip a hand to the back of Swiss' neck and tug him down into a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth. His back hits the door with a dull thump as Aurora let her hands wander just to hear Swiss' breath hitch. There is nothing more delightful than the choked sound the multi ghoul makes when she wedges her thigh between his, encouraging him to grind down on it.

Aurora licks into Swiss' mouth with abandon, feeling him sigh contentedly, drunk on her tongue. She waits for him to start losing control of the noises escaping him, for his rolls of hips to become uncoordinated and desperate, for his muscles to start tensing. When he reaches that point, she pulls away, putting three steps between them.

Swiss has to grab the door handle for balance, leaning at least half of his weight on the door, knees too weak to keep him upright. He doesn't whine, not quite, but it's a near thing, his long fangs catching on already abused lips. He's truly a sight like this, disheveled and breathing heavily. But he's still fucking smirking.

"Come on," he groans.

Aurora nonchalently crosses her arms.

"Come on what, Swiss ?"

He has the decence not to roll his eyes, but does let out a petulant huff, smile still pulling at his lips.

"Keep going ?"

It's phrased like a question, despite the glint in Swiss' eyes that tells Aurora he is so sure of the outcome, of her answer. She draws it out by humming as if in thoughts.

"Keep going ? You want me to keep making out with you ? To let you hump my thigh again ? You want me to touch you ? To stroke you real nice ? That what you want, uh ?"

Swiss' hips cant up slightly at the picture she's painting for him.

"Yes. Will you ?"

There's a touch of amusement in his voice, something Aurora guesses comes from his belief that he knows what game they're playing. Oh, she cannot wait to crush that mix of hope and certainty she reads in his eyes.

Just because she can and will be extra cruel, she stalks closer, hooking a finger in Swiss' belt buckle and tugging him closer, until he's forced to stand on his own.

"Mmh, no."

The sheer disblief and bewilderment washing over Swiss' features is so, so worth it.

"What ?"

Gone is the attitude, smirk wiped clean from the multi ghoul's face as well.

"I said no. What, did you think I would ? This isn't about you. Now kneel."

Swiss is so stunned his knees are already half bent by the time he second guesses himself. It only takes a light push to his shoulders for him to go all the way down.

He's very unfairly pretty like this, gazing up at Aurora with still surprise-wide eyes and blown out pupils. She plants a booted foot on his thigh, pleased to feel him wrap his hand around her calf, a mirror of their stage antics.

"Listen to me very carefully, yeah ? You are going to eat me out, and you are going to do it well. And don't even think about touching yourself or I swear I'll make sure you won't cum for weeks. Understood ?"

All Swiss manages is a nod, and, well, that just won't do.

"Words, Swiss, or are you too dumb for that already ?"

"No- I mean yes- understood, yeah."

Admittedly a bit drunk on the power she holds over him, Aurora rewards Swiss with a heavy, borderline painful press of the sole of her boot against his groin, withdrawing her foot before it can become truly pleasurable. Swiss' eyes roll back, hips involuntarily snapping up.

With a condescending laugh, Aurora goes to lay on the bed, leg spread.

"Well ? Come here. No. I said "come here", not "get up", right ?"

Swiss freezes where he was starting to rise, hesitating only for a second before crawling toward Aurora, even politely stopping at the foot of the bed, only hauling himself up on it and between her legs once she patted the mattress invitingly.

"Get me out of my clothes. Be careful, I like them," Aurora orders. There is no way she's letting this heathen rip her favorite top in half, as attractive a display of strenght it is. Thankfully, Swiss follows her comand, discarding her clothes with great care despite his painfully evident impatience.

Once Aurora lays bare under him, Swiss' eyes flick up to her again, waiting for further instructions.

She takes her sweet time, brushing a hand down his chest, stomach, toying with the hem of his shirt.

"Take this off and get to work."

And Swiss does, all fight gone from him. His shirt goes to join Aurora's clothes, Swiss throws her legs on his shoulders and dives in like a beast starved.

Aurora keens immediately. Swiss is good at this, more than good. Running his unaturally long tongue through her folds and fucking it in and out of her, wrapping his lips around her throbbing clit, he does not spare his efforts.

There is no way in hell Aurora could stop herself from reacting, nor would she want to, squirming and moaning freely, mumbling little "that's good" and "yeah like that" as encouragement.

Because that's the thing with Swiss. Hearing his partners respond like this, knowing he's the reason they're writhing under him ? Oh that turns him on so, so much. Aurora can't imagine how much self control it must take him not to lower himself down and rub is probably aching cock against the mattress.

Good.

Swiss doesn't hold back, and neither does she. If she's being honest, Aurora's been keyed up since he asked her to be mean, and it shows with how fast she starts unravelling.

A clever swipe of tongue, and she's done for, crying out as she comes hard enough to see stars.

When Aurora comes back to herself, Swiss is hovering over her, face shiny with her slick but eyes soft. He sets her legs down gently, massaging her hip wordlessly. With a huff, Aurora pulls him down and tucks him against her side, kissing his face while mumbling.

"Good boy, such a good boy, you did so good baby."

Swiss relaxes, only for a second though, because then Aurora cups his still hard cock and squeezes, earning a loud moan.

"That must hurt."

"Yeah," Swiss breathes.

Aurora chuckles, glancing at the drawer she keeps her strap in.

She's not done being mean.

After all, Swiss hasn't begged yet.

[voicesfoundmymemories]

Places

(Me Note) Hello! This isn't late you guys are just in the future- Konig x Reader? CW The only trigger warning is possible second hand embarrassment. Word Count: 2098!

You sigh as you walk back into the air-conditioned building, the cool air feeling like heaven on your sticky skin. It was a hot day even though summer had just started and you'd finished moving the last of your boxes into your apartment only a moment ago.

You hadn't bothered paying for a moving service, you barely had enough stuff to fill the place. You figured you'd buy furniture once you mapped out the space a bit better.

You pushed the button that called the elevator, waiting there with your suitcase in hand. You cringed at the sweat trickling down your back, anticipating the hot shower you'd take as soon as you were settled. The doors open and you step in, pressing your floor when a large hand barges between the almost shut doors.

"Ah- sorry" The voice is apologizing before the doors are even open again, and before you can say that it's alright your eyes widen at the sheer size of the man, the elevator shifting as he stepped into it.

"It's okay-" You stammer out, mentally slapping yourself for staring for so long. He looked almost… uncomfortable? His body was trying to angle away from you just enough to not be rude, which wasn't a lot with the size of the elevator.

You were intrigued by the man, but you'd much rather sit down, even if it was probably going to be on the floor. You kept taking half glances at him as the elevator closed once again. "Are you on the second floor?"

"What?" He asked, looking down at you.

"You're... floor? You didn't put one in." With that, he sucked in a breath, a quiet 'ah' as he pressed the button for the fifth floor.

"Sorry." He muttered, radiating nervous energy.

You smiled warmly at him, not wanting to leave a bad impression in your first new neighbor interaction. "No need to say sorry, oh- this is my floor. Nice meeting you-" you said quickly, waving at the tall man who halfheartedly waved back.

Well, shit. Looks like I've already ruined it, he hates me-

You count your losses, dragging your suitcase into your apartment.

You let your shoulders drop as you finally get a good look at the apartment, living area (at least that's what you thought was meant to go there) filled with boxes of your belongings. You pull out your phone and dial a number.

"Hey, mom."

"Hi, sweetie! How is everything? Got everything in alright? Oh, I told you just to hire a moving company-"

"Mom. I had barely enough boxes to fill my car. I did not need a moving company. I got everything in fine." She showed how much she cared by worrying about everything and anything.

"That's good. How are your neighbors? Do they seem nice?" You roll your eyes, smiling as you place the phone on the counter, putting it on speaker.

"Well, I just moved in less than five minutes ago I haven't met any of them yet." You say that as a vision of the bright blue eyes of that tall man crosses your mind. It was the only feature that stood out to you with the lower portion of his face covered. "I did meet someone in the elevator but he doesn't live on my floor. It's not like having a house." You hum, picking up the bag of apples you'd thought to buy before you got home. You'd probably order takeout tonight.

"Well, go meet them! Knock on doors, offer something!" You swallowed quickly, wiping at your mouth.

"Mother when have I ever been the type to go out of my way to socialize? If I see them... I'll say hi, I guess." You heard the scuffling sound of your mother covering the phone, and muffled yells to who you assumed was your father since your brother should be in school at the moment.

"I can't hear what you're saying but I know you're talking about me, Mother!" The phone is picked up again and you shake your head.

"It's just that you're gonna be lonely, sweetheart. You don't start the new job for another three weeks, what're you gonna do in that time?"

"You're only an hour away, if I'm that starved for human contact I'll drive home." You shrug though she can't see you.

~~~

You'd managed to unpack all your boxes within the week, and you're only priority shopping-wise was getting a new bed, which you'd done before moving in so it came later in the day.

You decided it was probably best if you stopped spending money on takeout, grabbed your keys and bag, and headed out.

You're standing in front of the elevator as it opens, coming face (not really) to face with the large man. His bright blue eyes find yours and you're both in an awkward stalemate, staring at each other until the elevator begins to close again and he mutters something you couldn't quite catch and shifts over to make space for you as you get in beside him.

"I didn't get your name last time." You give him a tight-lipped smile. I can't keep calling you large man in my head-

He looked down at you before glancing away again, the tips of his ears tinting red. "König-" he says quickly, looking like he wished he could swallow his words, which was weird. Did he not like his name?

You tried to say it in your head before attempting it out loud, not wanting to mess his name up, but before you could the doors were opening and he was muttering an excuse me as he got out of the enclosed space.

Did I do something? Oh my god, this is why I don't talk to people. You huff, following him out of the elevator but unable to find his presence. How did a man that big get away so quickly?

He managed to plague your mind your entire grocery trip, and you questioned why you were so intrigued by him as you thought up ways to talk to him without scaring him off.

Your game of elevator cat and mouse continued, and soon every time you waited for that elevator you hoped his damned masked face and baby blue eyes would be behind it.

~~~

You'd begun to feel a bit hopeless, near giving up as you hadn't seen him in a while. You got into the empty elevator, heading to the mail room.

You knew he was nervous, but you couldn't tell if it was in general or because of you. What if you made him uncomfortable? For what reason though? What could possibly-

Your thoughts went silent as you saw him opening his mailbox, head turned towards you as he scanned your frame. The one time I check the mail in garfield pyjama pants. Great.

You give him a quick grin, walking over to your mailbox as his gaze follows you. You fumble with your keys, trying to think of something, anything, to say to him.

The mail becomes inconsequential as you continue to sift through it, tossing out the junk. There's an awkward silence between you two that is only broken by the clearing of his throat.

You turn towards him, eyes wide and expectant. "I- uhm… I have apfel- agh… apple strudel?" He rubs at his neck, avoiding your gaze. "If you want." He adds quickly, his accent coming through in his nervousness. "Apple strudel? Do you bake?" You mentally slap yourself for the question. Of course he bakes, he's offering you some, genius.

The two of you make your way up to the fifth floor, the ride filled with tense silence and fleeting glances. He walks in quick strides to his door and you pause for a moment. Maybe I shouldn't be following a stranger into his apartment.

By all means it sounds like a bad idea but you follow him anyway, the intrigue of the man outweighing any logic of the situation. Besides, surely I'd feel it if something was off. He opens the door and the mouthwatering scent of tart apples fills the hallway, ridding you of any doubts you might have had regarding the safety of the situation.

"It smells really good- oh!" He had a plate in your hand before you could even close the door, gesturing you towards a seat on his sofa.

"Thank you..." Your words trail as you take a seat, looking down at the dessert.

He followed you down, sitting across from you on the single sofa as you dug into the strudel with the fork he gave you.

"It's really good!" You hum in surprise as the crisp flavor fills your mouth. "Do you like to bake?"

He nods slowly, and you notice the tips of his ears tinted that same shade of red. How… cute?

It gets quiet again, and you can't help your urge to make conversation. The silence didn't typically bother you but it felt like your brain was about to burst with all the questions you wanted to ask him.

You'd never wanted to get to know someone you'd barely met so deeply and completely.

You're barely able to get out, "What else do you like to bake?" before he speaks.

"I'm sorry. For being rude." He rushes out and your eyes widen a bit at his abrupt conversation switch. He can barely meet your eyes and you have the strongest urge to comfort him. Just one hug, I promise-

"Rude?" You repeat, head in a tilt, trying to think back on what he could be referring to. Uncomfortably awkward sure, but that'd mostly been your fault for trying to push a conversation.

"I don't think you've done anything that's offended me-" You hum, "And if you did this certainly made up for it because I'm drawing blanks." You try your best to muster up your sweetest smile, not wanting to scare him away again.

"Okay."

The brief time you spent in his apartment was enjoyable, and even though he barely muttered ten words you could tell he was trying his best, which seemed to be enough for you.

When you finally stood up to leave, saying goodbyes as you walked towards the door he stopped you, handing you a glass tupperware full of strudels.

"Oh, I-" You eye the container, surprise written all over your face. "Thank you! This is really nice of you."

~

You catch yourself with a silly smile on your face as you look down at the glass container, the insides concealed by the lid. The sun had long began to set and the sounds of the cities night life were beginning to stir. Truly, you were going insane. The glass container filled with treats that you presumed he'd made entirely for you. You'd already stared at it for god knows how long, and now you were cursing yourself for not asking for his number when you had the chance.

You groan, backing away from your kitchen counter and leaving the poor strudels there to cool down, trying to shift your thoughts to anything but the tall man. The tall, sweet, adorably shy man.

You shake your head free of the thought. It wouldn't do you any good to dwell on it. Next time. The next time you saw him you'd ask for his number. You nod to yourself, walking the span of your counter as your mind raced with different possibilities. The sweet gift caught your eye every time you walked past, which might've made it a tad bit more difficult to stay focused.

After pacing the short length of your island a few more times you give in, lunging for the glass and popping it open.

"They smell so good…" You eye them hungrily, the smell of the warm tarts seeping into the air. You were never the best at baking, so this was chef extraordinaire level mastery to you.

You pick one up, gushing about the taste of it as you wave the cover in your hand. You nearly drop it, tossing it onto the counter.

A small bright yellow that definitely wasn't the red of the container peeks through the corner of your vision. Taped to the lid is a small piece of paper. You peel it off carefully, not wanting to get your hopes up in case this wasn't what you thought it was.

"My number. If you want it. I would like to talk to you more but I'm not the best at conversation."

[marypaol]

Silver Orbs

Draco x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, self doubt, trouble eating, sleeping habits, that’s all :)

Summary: Reader has a feeling someone’s eyes are on her, and she isn’t wrong.

Note: I don’t use Y/N, and thank you all so much for all the forms of support! I was kind of insecure about my work, so thank you!

__

The noises of utensils hitting plates and chatter filled her ears, her eyes settled on the food in front of her that seemed to be getting more and more unappealing by the second. The anxiety that was brewing in her stomach wouldn’t stop, the endless possibilities of her results on the quiz she took in Charms whirling in her brain. I mean, she couldn’t have done that bad, right? She considered herself good at Charms, always seeming to remember the right ways to flick the wand and how to form the words with her lips. But the insecurity was still in the back of her mind, whispering to her that she was going to fail because she second guessed herself. So it didn’t surprise her when she over prepared herself for the quiz; meaning staying up late and studying in the Slytherin Common Room. She couldn’t help it, almost like she had to prove the voice in her head wrong. Telling it she could properly prepare and succeed. It was like a competition; her against anxiety.

Anxiety meaning she couldn’t eat and sleep properly. And it wasn’t like this just because of a simple Charms quiz. It happened with everything really. How Snape would react to her Potion, even though she was really quite good at following the particular directions in the book and the right color was bubbling in the cauldron. Or that one time she had to go up in front of the class to smell the Amortentia; till this day she didn’t know who she smelled, the scent of apple trees and mint still lingering in her nose once in a while whenever she thought about it. She wasn’t around much boys and she when she was she didn’t take note on how they smelled.

Like she would, some boy’s scent in a silly potion was the last of her worries.

What she did take note of is that whenever she was eating, or attempting to, she felt a soft stare on her head, like someone was swallowing her appearance and taking it for themselves. At first she thought it was some silly feeling that was simply another addition to her anxious symptoms, but when the feeling of being watched occurred more than once she found herself looking around. She knew it was someone near her since she felt the stare on the side of her face, eyes boring into her cheekbone like it were the Charms paper she was studying the day before.

This present day as she once again was unable to eat she once more felt it, the soft stare that settled on her. It was almost like a sixth sense, the feeling of someone’s eyes on her, nudging at her chest as a reminder it was there.

She suddenly had the courage to look up, having enough of the uneasy sense but making no effort to find the culprit.

She scanned the crowd, seeing everyone having no issues when it came to nourishment.

It was in that moment that their eyes met, the silver orbs almost impossible to look away from. She knew it sounded cheesy, but out of all the magic in the generations of Hogwarts nothing compared to what she was feeling then. Even when a snarl was on his lips and annoyance on his gaze, she could tell by the way he held it he didn’t want to challenge her to see if she would look away first, but to feel more of what he was feeling. Now that’s not how she truly thought he felt, but it was something she convinced herself of because it made her feel the magic stronger. But as they stared longer- neither of them looking away- the precious scowl slowly dropped from his lips and curiosity filled his orbs, wanting to see what she beheld.

It was only when student by student got up from their seats, bodies filing her view instead of silver that the gaze broke. She found herself swerving her head to and fro, scanning through swishes of green robes to spot the boy again, but he was no where to be seen.

***

She laid in bed that night, trying to break down the occurrence. But whenever she went down a road of reasoning, her mind took over itself and went back to the silver orbs of Draco Malfoy, reminding her deep down that all she wanted that night was to look into them once more.