#blinking. and that the one avoiding eye contact or not being able to hold it for too long it's charles

[bertoyana]

X-MEN: DAYS OF THE FUTURE PAST (2014)

[withwritersblock]

It Wasn't Easy to be Happy for You

~It Wasn't Easy to Be Happy for You by The Lumineers~

Author's Note: pain stacking angst :) as always italics are flashbacks Summary: Luke gets broken up with and Jack is a good brother Warnings: cursing, cheating, sad!Luke Word Count: 1,493 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

It had been three weeks since they had broken up. The days dragged on and the sunshine felt a bit cold as the days progressed. It wasn’t messy, there were no negative feelings towards one another. At least that’s what he told himself.

Luke was still madly in love with her. He woke up thinking about her, he went to bed thinking about her. He wanted to be with her. But life came in the way. He had to move to New Jersey and she stayed in Michigan. 

But she ended things, for lack of better terms.

She sent the text five minutes ago asking if they could FaceTime. He had a feeling as to what it was about, which is why he was avoiding calling her. The girl he’s been with for almost two years, the person he thought he was going to marry. The person he was in love with despite being hundreds of miles away. 

He clenched his jaw as he propped his phone up against the headboard of his bed. He scooted backwards running his fingers through his hair. Pulling his lips between his teeth he pressed her contact and began calling her.

It was a good night for Jack to be out with a few of the guys on the team. Luke was supposed to join them but this needed to come first. 

She answered after four rings. Instead of being greeted with her usual wide smile, she was crying. He didn’t panic, he took a deep breath. “What’s going on, Love?” he asked as he ran his hand through his hair.

She shook her head as she wiped her hands over her cheeks, “Don’t call me that,” she said shaking her head, “I don’t deserve it,”

Luke furrowed his eyebrows as he licked his lips, “What do you mean?” he asked. 

Y/N tilted her head back, wiping more tears leaving her eyes. She was glancing off of FaceTime as she took a deep breath. “We need to break up, Luke, I can’t do this anymore,” 

His eyes widened as he scooted towards the phone as if he would be able to touch her through the screen. “I know the distance is hard, Baby but we can’t just give up on us,” he expressed, blinking his eyes rapidly, “Not after everything we’ve been through,” he said his voice cracking slightly as his spoke.

She shook her head as a sob left her throat, “Luke, I can’t say it, please don’t make me say it,” she let out.

“Say what, Y/N?” he pleated but she wouldn’t even look at her phone. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip as he nodded slowly as the idea popped into his head. The idea as to why she was in hysterics. He nodded as he clenched his jaw, “Did you-” he took a deep breath.

“God, Luke no! I would never!” she defended. 

“Then what don’t you want to say? Y/N!” he begged.

“It’s awful, Luke,”

“If it’s awful I wanna hear it,” he said as rested his hands on his legs. He sniffled as he kept his gaze on his phone screen watching her body language. 

She remained silent for a few seconds as she finally looked towards Luke through the phone screen. He was holding back every emotion he was feeling. Luke was always the strong one in the relationship, always keeping everything inside. She tilted her head back again as she swallowed hard.

“I think-I think I’m-” she took another deep shaky breath, “I love you, Luke, but I don’t think I’m in love with you anymore,” she said as she dropped her gaze towards her lap. She wiped her tears on her cheek.

He shut his eyes as he clenched his jaw hard. She was right, it was awful to hear.

“Is it-is it uh from the distance? I know we haven’t seen each other in months but-”

“I think it started that way but I don’t know, Luke, it’s just too much,” she let out. He nodded his head as he pressed his lips together hard.

“Okay,” he let out while nodding slowly, “Okay,” he let out again, his voice cracking.

“Luke,” she let out.

“No, it’s okay-” he cleared his throat as he took a hold of his phone and ended the call. He dropped his phone on the mattress as his eyes welled up in tears. He stood up from the bed desperate to take a shower and hide every emotion creeping through his body. The tears were desperate to leave his eyes. 

While he stepped out of his bedroom, Jack was sitting on the couch. “Luke, you still want to come out with us? I’m leaving here in a-” Jack trailed off as he watched Luke wipe his hannds on his eyes, “Are you okay?” he questioned.

Luke clenched his jaw as he shook his head, he ran his hand over his chin. “Y/N broke up with me,” he let out his voice cracking.

“What? Seriously?” Jack asked, standing up from his seat on the couch.

It was the three longest weeks of his life. The only part of his life that wasn’t lacking was his hockey. Weirdly, the overwhelming feeling of heartbreak propelled his skills. He was frustrated and angry and it helped him play some of the best hockey of his life. 

It was easier to be pissed off with his opponents instead of Y/N. He hated being angry with her.

But now, he was laying in a hotel room by himself staring at Y/N’s recent Instagram post. Her recent Instagram post with her new boyfriend. There were ten photos that he was able to stare at. Overanalyzing every detail of each photo. She was cozy, too cozy for only being together a few weeks. 

He stared towards her smile and how different she looked only three weeks ago. They still followed each other, so she knew he was going to see it. It was as if she did it on purpose. He took a deep breath as he stared towards the way his lips were pressing against her jawline. Just like he used to.

His eyes scanned the caption multiple times, it was lyrics from a Taylor Swift song he didn’t know.

He swiped towards her next photo seeing it during a concert she had gone to about a month before they broke up. They were posing together, his hand draped along her lower back, his lips pressed against her neck. 

He’s looked at the photo multiple times but it only just clicked. They were still together when that photo was taken. They were still together when he was touching her like that. They were still together and she lied. She lied.

“Fuck,” he muttered as there was loud knocks slamming against his hotel door. He groaned as he tossed his phone onto the mattress before he walked towards the door. He pulled it open as he walked away at the same time. 

“Did you open Instagram?” Jack asked as he shoved his way into the hotel room.

“Yup,” he said plainly as he started pacing in the small hotel room.

“You’re spiralling,” Jack let out simply. 

“Not spiralling,” he fought back as he took a hold of his phone and threw it across the hotel room. It hit the front door and fell to the ground. Luke didn’t care if there was any damage to it. 

“Dude,” Jack said as he watched Luke reach for his jacket and beanie that were lying on the chair beside his bed.

Luke stopped short right at the chair as he looked towards Jack.

“She was fucking cheating on me and fucking lied to me about it! She looked at me and lied!” he shouted as he began to put on his jacket and his beanie.

“What are you doing?” Jack asked as he tried to pull Luke back towards him. Luke pulled his arm away as he continued towards the door.

“Going on a walk,” he muttered as he walked towards the door. 

“No, dude-” 

“I was trying to be happy for her! She wanted out! I didn’t argue it! Everything that I have ever wanted for her was for her to be happy!” he shouted, his eyes welling up in tears.

“If being happy is being with someone else, I could fucking accept that! I can’t fucking accept the fact that she was doing it while I was hundreds of miles away! I can’t just sit here and let her flaunt the guy she cheated on me with!” Luke shouted, staring into Jack’s eyes. 

Jack nodded his head, “Alright,” he muttered, “Let’s get my jacket and we can go,” Jack said as he walked closer to Luke.

“I don’t need you to go with me,”

“I know but you’ve never been to Seattle, let me show you around,” Jack offered giving him a sympathetic smile.

[urdepressedslut]

I Get Scared Too

♡ Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You have a close call during a mission, and back at the compound Bucky seems to be distant and cold towards you.

♡ Warnings: angst, fluff, reader injury, mentions of gunfire, hints to anxiety attack

A/N: this idea was from a dream i had (im a lucid dreamer). i have been writing in a dream journal since elementary school, so you can imagine the dreams i have jotted down 😭

The mission hadn’t gone to plan, shocker, but everyone kept all their limbs and were able to walk back to the quinjet.

You had a close call, you didn’t see the previously passed out agent sitting back up raising his gun to your back. Obviously before he could fire somewhere vital, Natasha had taken him down, faltering his aim. Although the bullet had skimmed you deep on your hip.

It was hardly life threatening, but Natasha being a protective best friend, scolded you for being reckless. You knew her intentions were good, and that she cared about you, but it didn’t stop you from being annoyed at her treating you like a kid.

She eventually walked to the other side of the quinjet, leaving you to your thoughts. You thought you had done really well, taking down twice as many enemies than last time. But of course, everyone always focused on your flaws, what you had done wrong.

When the quinjet finally landed back at the compound, you were the first one out, having a slight limp from the discomfort in your hip. But otherwise didn’t mind it, you wanted to find your favorite person and tell them all about the mission.

“FRIDAY, where’s Bucky?” You called out to the air once you were inside.

“Bucky is currently in his room, Miss (Y/n).” She announced, making you smile in excitement.

The mission had only been a three day trip, but you had missed him the second you stepped on the quinjet.

Arriving at his door, you knocked three times, hearing shuffling from inside. The door swung open to reveal an unhappy looking Bucky, causing your smile to waver. Assuming he was just having a bad day, you smiled wider and stepped forward to hug him.

“Hi Buck, I missed you.” You mumbled into his chest, squeezing him tighter when you didn’t feel him hug back.

His body tensed, and immediately you released him and stepped back. You were confused at what was wrong, his face was cold. You were hurt that he hadn’t hugged you back, wondering if you had done something to make him mad.

“Missed ya too um... You should go (Y/n).” He spoke finally, his voice holding annoyance.

You blinked up at him and shook your head, fully confused now.

“Buck wha— what’s going on?” You asked hesitantly, anxious that Bucky was being so short with you so suddenly and you didn’t know why.

“Nothing, I just wanna be alone.” He told you, and your heart broke for two reasons.

One, the thought of Bucky having an episode and you weren’t here for him made your heart hurt.

And two, he always came to you when he was upset and the fact that he didn’t want you with him… It stung.

You stared at him as your eyes started to water, your bottom lip starting to quiver. Your heart ached, but you wanted to respect his need for space. You didn’t know what else to say, and considering the lump forming in your throat, you decided to keep it short.

“Alright yeah, of course. I’ll… See you at dinner then.” You told him, watching him retreat back into his room and slam the door, making you flinch.

You were frozen in place, staring at the door expecting him to come back out and tell you it was all a prank. But several minutes passed and you were still staring at the door.

_____________________

You pushed the food around on your plate, keeping your eyes casted down. You had tried to get Bucky's attention, ever since you watched with glossy eyes as he passed his usual seat next to you, and instead sat at the other end of the table. He was avoiding your direction and never attempted to make eye contact.

Bucky giving you the cold shoulder, being silent with you was extremely painful. Considering how well you two communicated and talked, you were the one who had brought him out of his shell. It hurt so bad your chest ached physically.

Out of nowhere, you were slamming your fork down on the plate with a loud clank, causing everyones attention to snap to you.

"What's the matter with you cupcake?" Tony asked you, taking a sip from his wine glass.

Feeling embarrassed from everyones stares, you snuck a glance at Bucky at the end of the table, surprised when you met his concerned eyes.

You scoffed, shaking your head in bewilderment. He had no right to act concerned, after ignoring you. You almost felt bad for him, thinking he was having a bad day, but after you watched him chatter playfully at dinner with everyone, you realized it was only you he didn't want to speak to.

"Hello? Earth to (Y/n)!?" Tony announced, banging on the table to get your attention when he noticed you spacing out.

Everyone was concerned about you by now, all watching you carefully. You glared at Bucky and stood up without answering Tony, pushing your chair back and quickly exiting the dining room.

"Must be her time of the month." Tony mumbled, earning a slap to the back of the head from the redhead next to him. "Ow... What?!"

"Shut up Tony." Natasha rolled her eyes, turning to Bucky and giving him a 'What did you do' look.

_____________________

Laying in bed on your side, you pulled the blanket tighter to your chest with a sniffle. You began to turn over on your other side when your hip throbbed painfully at the movement. The waves of pain had your body shuttering, your eyes filling with fresh tears, rolling down your flushed cheeks.

You blamed your tears on your hip pain, but all the emotions you’d piled up since you’d gotten back from the mission was weighing on you now.

Light knocks sounded from your door, causing you to tense up and turn your back to the door. You didn’t feel like talking to anyone, especially if it was him.

“(Y/n)? I know you heard me.” Natasha muttered, opening the door, letting herself in.

“What do you want Nat?” You snapped, not meaning to take out your frustrations on her.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on? Your little scene downstairs has everyone worried.” She told you, earning a scoff from you, still refusing to face her.

“It’s nothing.” You sighed, wishing she could leave so you could attempt to sleep your issues away.

“Didn’t seem like nothing.” She retorted, huffing in annoyance when you stayed silent.

You were staring at the wall, biting your lip, trying to hold in your built up emotions. Too busy to notice Natasha whispering to another person entering the room. It was when you felt the edge of the bed behind you dip down that snapped your attention back.

“Hey doll,” Bucky greeted, “How’s your hip?”

You twisted your body back facing his worried form, but your eyebrows were furrowed on how he even knew about your injury.

“How did you…”

“Nat told me.”

Rolling your eyes, you were cursing under your breath. Throwing the blanket over your head in attempt to hide.

Your blanket cocoon was quickly ripped away by Bucky, pulling the blanket all the way down below your knees. His eyes dancing around your bandaged hip, clenching his jaw at the red seeping through the white gauze.

“(Y/n), is your hip feeling okay? Do we need to change it—“

“I’m fine!” You snapped, “Now go away.”

You we’re looking everywhere but his eyes, knowing you’d break down if you saw the disappointment in them.

Bucky was taken a back, but he couldn’t be all that angry when he’d brought all this on himself. He just got into this weird headspace when he’d heard the mission report, hearing that you’d been hurt. He realized it wasn’t fatal, but he didn’t like seeing his girl hurt at all. He realized he took it a little too far, he didn’t mean to make you upset the way he did. He’d shut you out and he felt like his old self when he’d first arrived at the compound again. Anxious and closed off, pushing you away when he really wanted to pull you into his arms and tell you how much he loves you.

“Doll, talk to me.” He practically begged, his metal arm whirring, having to stop himself from reaching out to touch you.

“Why are you ignoring me?” You rushed out, your voice louder than you intended it to be, “Is it because I messed up on the mission? A-are you disappointed in me or something? Huh?”

Your chest was rising and falling in a fast rhythm, your mind going haywire at the possibilities of why Bucky was suddenly indifferent with you. Your throat felt like it was tightening up.

Bucky stayed silent, his heart hurting, feeling terrible for making you feel this way.

You couldn’t stop your mind from producing the awful thoughts, and like a switch had been flipped, the dam inside of you cracked. The tears wouldn’t stop, your sobs painful sounding

“Is it… Is it because you— I— Do you not love m-me anymore?” You wheezed out.

Bucky snapped out of his silent trance, his hands cupping your face, brushing away the tear streaks.

“Baby no…” He hushed, trying to stop your mind from torturing yourself.

“I’m so sorry Buck, I-I love you so much and I…” You hiccuped, “If I did something— If I’m not good enough—“

“No Doll hey… Stop that,” He cooed, “You haven’t done anything wrong, okay?”

“Bu-but you…”

“I know baby, I’ve been a dick. I shouldn’t of shut you out like that I was just… I was scared.” Bucky confessed, your tears and breathing slowing down, you sitting silent besides the occasional hiccup.

“I still… I don’t understand?” You thought out loud.

Bucky breathed heavily, swallowing the forming lump in his throat. He scooted closer to you, pulling your form closer to him, and you let him.

“(Y/n), you have no idea how scared I was when I heard you had gotten hurt.” He started, watching your face soften at his wavering voice.

“Buck, I’m okay though.” You reassured him, grabbing his palms, rubbing your thumb comfortingly over the back of his hand.

“I know baby, but… I couldn’t help but think if you got hurt on a mission and—“ He panted out, “And you didn’t make it.”

Your heart ached at the pain laced in his words, him holding onto your hands in a desperate grip.

“Buck..”

“I know that doesn’t give me an excuse to be a dick to you I… I just get into this headspace every time you are headed back from a mission, when I’m waiting to hear that you’re alright and… When I heard you had gotten hurt— I just assumed the worst.” He finished.

The disappointment was clear on his face, but it wasn’t directed toward you, it was directed to himself.

You understood that he meant no harm, and you felt incredibly bad that he suffered so much while you were gone, you thought it was the other way around. You felt extremely loved in a sense, feeling lucky enough to have someone worry as deep as he did for you.

“Buck, you should’ve just told me how you were feeling from the start. You know I’d listen,” You paused, doubt clouding your thoughts, “You still trust me enough to talk to me… Right?”

Bucky immediately nodded his head, cupping your face, hearing your faltering voice.

“Of course I do baby, I trust you with my life.” He reassured you, “I don’t know why I got like that.”

“I know why,” You started, cradling his face, watching him snuggle his cheek deeper into your palm, “You have a good heart, and sometimes having a good heart can be overwhelming, because you can care so much about something.”

“I don’t want a good heart if it’s going to make me act that way.” He whispered sadly, lowering his eyes.

“That’s the thing about having a good heart,” You lifted his head slightly so his eyes met yours, “Its not something you can just change, it’s a part of you.”

He gazed from each eye, to your lips, then back up to your eyes, mesmerized by your beauty and soul. How could you be so forgiving and caring towards him?

“I’m so sorry I shut you out (Y/n), I love you and I will never do something like that again.” He promised, lifting and pulling you into his lap, curling his arms around your frame. Sitting his chin on top of your head.

You snuggled your face into his neck, wrapping your arms around him protectively.

“It’s okay Buck, I get scared too.”

[luvhughes43]

blue lines | blake hughes au

[blake hughes au]

summary: blake and nico have a pregnancy scare

mentions: periods, pregnancy, anxiety, etc.

word count: 0.9k

blake and nico couldn't keep their hands off each other. it was simply a known fact amongst their shared group of friends. everyone who knew blake as a determined, self-loathing teenager was always shocked to find out how pro pda and touchy she was with her boyfriend.

everyone also thought that the two would grow out of their "honeymoon phase" which to the displeasure of certain family members - commonly known as jack - the months apart during the off-season only reignited the couples... touchy nature.

which is why... after an increased amount of ... physically intensive fall activities blake wasn't too shocked to find that her period was a few days late.

"i'm late," blake pierces the quiet atmosphere in nico's apartment.

"late for what?" nico questions, not even bothering to look up from his phone. "i thought you said you weren't busy today,"

blake pauses and blinks in quick succession. "well no im talking about-" she pauses again before rechecking her period tracking app. she holds the glaring 3 WEEKS LATE page towards nico, "like... im late late. i haven't been late since i was competing," blake passes her phone to nico who studies her app with rapt attention.

"i've really... never been late before," blake repeats as she paces around her boyfriends living room. she suffered from stress and extensive workout related absent periods - and since she retired from skating she had regained and had a pretty consistent cycle. "i'm pregnant," she blurts out nervously as she avoids eye contact with nico.

"okay, it's going to be okay," nico tries to soothe blake. he silently stumbles towards her and she jumps when he rests his hand soothingly against her shoulder. "let's go to the store and we'll get some tests,"

blake nods thoughtlessly and lets herself be dragged out of the door by nico. it's not that she didn't want to be a mother - blake thinks as she watches nico's neighborhood fly by as he weaves carefully through traffic. she was just too young, the relationship too new... she wasn't ready to be responsible for another human being.

blake doesn't remember stepping out of the car and walking into the pharmacy. her breathing is heavy and laboured as she stares at a wall full of pregnancy tests. "i don't know which one we need..." her voice is unfamiliar to her own ears. she was only twenty-one, how was she supposed to be a mother? and nico... he was just announced captain last season and was finally starting to get into the groove of things.

nico grabs a variety of tests and blake takes the opportunity to study his face. his brows are arched in contemplation and if he was nervous blake isn't able to tell. blake grabs a box of the closet tests and examines it.

"how many do you think we need?" nico asks suddenly. he holds his hands out towards her, and different brands flash up towards her menacingly.

"three? two should be fine i don't-"

"nico hischier!" a loud and unfamiliar voice announces to the whole store. "could i get a picture with you?"

blake wordlessly takes the pregnancy tests and wanders down the aisle. "uh, yeah sure," nico smiles with uncertainty as he throws an arm around the young fan. nico pulls him out of the aisle and he sends blake looks of concern but she just waves him off to focus on the fan.

nico's quick with the photo and after a few words about the upcoming season nico's quick to rejoin blake. "do you think he saw what we were buying?" blake asks nervously as she holds up the tests in her hands.

"no it's alright," nico tries and reassures the trembling blake.

"i'm sorry im so scared i just... i dont know how to feel right now," she whispers into nico's side. his arm tightens around her as they stand in the comfort of each others embrace.

"it's okay, just try and relax" nico kisses her hairline and she's suddenly plagued with a rush of guilt. it felt like she was always leaning on him more than she should - instead of allowing him space to feel anxious as well. "i'm scared too," he says softly - as if sensing blakes thoughts.

with no more interruptions or disrupting anxious thoughts - the young couple make it through check-out with ease.

they shuffle into nico's apartment and blake immediately beelines it for his bathroom. nico waits politely outside the door.

"they all say to wait three minutes," blake says with a handful of tests.

"i'll set a timer," nico supplies and fishes his phone out from his back pocket.

the two sit outside the bathroom door - legs crossed with the tests laying in front of themselves face-down. blake wordlessly reaches for nico's hand who squeezes it silently.

"we'll figure it out you know - if they're positive," nico gestures towards the tests in front of them.

"i know," blake whispers. she grasps his arm in both of her own and leans her head against his shoulder. "i'm sorry for zoning out earlier i was just..."

"scared? you have nothing to be sorry for,"

"okay,"

"okay."

the minutes drag, and when nico's alarm finally rings out the young couple jolts upright. blake immediately reaches for the closet test and flips it over with a manicured hand. nico flips another, and the tension in the room finally settles.

negative

|

negative

blake leans her head back against nico's shoulder and the rise and fall of his breathing soothes her.

[greynatomy]

confessions and accidental meetings

ona batlle x reader

prequel to soft launch. requested here

———

Arriving at your favorite coffee shop, you swing the door open only to feel some resistance on the other side.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry!” You’ve not even looked at the person, but grabbed as many napkins as you could to start wiping her down. “I am such a klutz.”

What you don’t notice is the person smiling widely at you, entertained at how you’re wiping her down and apologizing nonstop. She reaches out to grab one of your wrists to stop your panick.

“It is okay.” She tells you once your eyes reach hers.

You swear you could’ve melted right there and there. The hand she isn’t holding is stilled on her shirt over her stomach where you were absolutely sure you felt some indentations.

You couldn’t look away, opting to just nod as words aren’t able to properly come out of your mouth.

Ona was loving every second of this interaction, loving how you melt to her touch, a complete stranger’s.

Despite being soaking wet, Ona sat down with you at a table, attentively listening to to whatever you had to say. It was a bit difficult to understand, but all she knew was that she didn’t want to stop talking to you.

“Can-can I get your, uh, number?”

You gave it to her without hesitation, telling her that you’d be her tour guide of Manchester. You brought her to your favorite places, Ona making a mental note about everything you’ve said and shown her.

In the three months since you’ve met, your jobs never came up, relishing in the bubble you two have built around yourselves. There was an understanding that you both very much liked each other more than friend’s, it was just a matter of who has the guts to take it to the next level.

Seeing as you weren’t going to do it, Ona dragged you out of your apartment, taking you to all of your favorite places. You loved how she remembered everything you’ve told her, everything being highlighted on this day.

Last but not least, you’ve both made it to the coffee shop you’ve both met at, always feeling nostalgic whenever you step foot in it.

“I, uh, wanted to ask you something and I thought it’s good to come back here to do it.” You nod, telling her to continue. Ona squirmed in her seat, avoiding eye contact, she stammered, “Um, so, I’ve been thinking… I mean not-not that I think about this all the time, but uh.”

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity peaked. “It’s just me Ona. Spill it.”

Ona took a deep breath, “Well, when we are together, I-I have this weird feeling in my stomach. Not like, not like a tummy ache, but what is it people say? Cockroaches?”

“Butterflies?” You correct her.

“Yes! Uh, yes, butterflies. And I-I like you. More than a friend.”

You blinked, trying to process her words, then broke into a bright smile. “That was the most awkward and adorable thing I have ever experienced. And I also have butterflies in my stomach whenever we hang out. How could I not?”

“Really? Uh, wow.”

“Well, first, let’s stop being awkward and acknowledge that we both like each other. And then… maybe you could come over here and kiss me.”

Ona, seemingly getting all her confidence back, walks around the table to where you sat. Hands cupping both sides of your face, she dips her head down, pulling you into a passionate kiss.

You’ve been together for a good six months now and everyday has been full of laughs, adventure and comfortability. When she found out who your sister was though, she looked like she’s seen a ghost.

“You don’t have to be scared of her, baby. She’s just a big giant teddy bear.”

“She could probably beat me up.”

“Don’t say that! She’s all soft and cuddly.”

Ona didn’t believe you. She’s played against Lucy before and it’s safe to say your sister scares her a bit.

One day, Ona had just finished training and decided to go and surprise you after not seeing each other for a week with both of your busy schedules. She picked up your favorite flowers and favorite take away and made the journey to you apartment.

She doesn’t bother to knock, using the spare key you’ve given her.

“Mi amore!” She calls out, taking her shoes off by the front door. walking further into the apartment, she’s met with one Lucy Bronze sitting on your couch. “Uh, hello.”

“Ah. So you’re the one my sister is seeing.” Lucy gets up from where she sat, stalking closer to Ona.

“Uh, sí. It is nice to meet you.” Ona gulps, nervous say how Lucy was looking down at her.

“You’re technically the enemy, so I wouldn’t say this is anything but nice.”

They were both staring down at each other, unaware that you’ve walked back into the living room.

“What are you guys doing?”

They whip their head towards you, like they’ve been caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.

“Just getting acquainted with your girlfriend here.” Lucy says, placing a hand on Ona’s shoulder, squeezing a bit making Ona wince, but tries to hide.

“Lucy, don’t scare my girlfriend please.” You grab Ona’s arm, pulling her away from your sister. “I would like to keep her alive forever.”

“Fine. But just know, I’m keeping a close eye on you. Hurt my sister and I hurt you.” Lucy flexes her bicep, making you let out a laugh.

“You are always flexing, I swear.”

“I promise to not hurt your sister, at least intentionally.” Ona pulls you close, placing a kiss on the side of your head.

“Good. Good. Now, what kind of take out did you bring? I’m hungry.”

[azurem]

I wrote this thing in a single run at 4 am (inkmare)

“Pf. Did you see their faces?”

Nightmare had to stop the smile that raised to his face as the sound of Ink’s snickers filled the empty room, yet he didn't fight the way that Ink leaned onto him, untangling him from his tentacles so Ink could hug his neck. He leaned right back onto his touch, hugging Ink’s waist back. He glanced at the closed door one last time before focusing his attention on Ink’s face, his amusement as infectious as a summer’s cold. “I did.”

“They looked so–” Ink choked a bit, hugging Nightmare’s neck tighter as if the possibility of him falling if he didn’t grab onto him was a real one. He shook his head, a permanent smile embedded onto his face by then, “-confused! Have you ever seen Blue look like that?”

“Never,” Nightmare answered truthfully, his tentacles swaying slowly behind him as Ink hid his face onto his shoulder, his own shaking with the effort to keep his voice down. He patted Ink’s back, sighing contently just from being able to experience the texture of his spine against his fingers. “They don’t suspect a thing, do they? Have they asked anything… suspicious?”

“Pf, no,” Ink said back, his snickers finally calming down a bit as he stopped hugging Nightmare’s neck with both hands, his now free hand reaching down to tug on the tail of his scarf, his gaze gliding through the surface of the cloth before it returned to Nightmare’s eye, the mirth in it softening to the always welcome fondness that Nightmare already got accustomed to. He drops the tail, letting it fall to its place before fully leaning onto Nightmare once again, a fox-like smile setting into his mouth as he tilted his head, half-lidding his eyes. “Why, worried I’ll tattle on us?”

The idea is so absurd on itself that Nightmare can't help but snort, his hold on Ink getting a bit tighter as he resists the idea of dipping him as if in a dance, just to daze him for a moment, as short as it were. The idea makes the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement, but he decides against it just to avoid risking ruining the lighthearted moment. To humor him, he plays along, acting a more serious tone, even if he can’t have it on himself to get his smile off his own face yet. “Do I have reasons to be worried?”

“No,” Ink said, but his grin didn’t falter. As Nightmare decided to reward the simple answer with a chaste kiss, their mouths meeting together in a motion that by now felt as natural as breathing, he made a pleased hum that seemed almost relieved in the way it often did when Nightmare’s hand cupped his heated cheek. He sighed as the contact stopped, his eyelights changing in a blink to a soothing green and a pale pink. It seemed that whatever plan he had in mind was forgotten to favor the softer sides of him. “No reason at all.”

Nightmare let out an amused huff, more than satisfied with the fact. He leaned down once more, just to spare Ink from the extra effort that would be to try to get to his level. When the gesture got repaid with Ink nuzzling his cheek with his own, not unlike a cat, he couldn’t even think of fighting the smitten, foolish smile that plagued his expression, a pleased sigh leaving his lips. As one hand wandered up, caressing the top of Ink’s head, he muttered, “You’re just…”

��Be creative,” Ink tutted, his eyes turning into half-moons when even the teasing words couldn't bring down the dumb expression on Nightmare’s face. “If you say beautiful again, I’ll get upset.”

“...pretty cheeky,” Nightmare finished, a moment of hesitation snitching on his initial choice of words. When he caught onto Ink’s expression, he added, his voice light, “I will think of more compliments.”

“Well, you better,” Ink said, frowning. By the way his eyelights remained red-less, Nightmare knew that his anger was nothing but for show. He blew a soft raspberry before looking to the side, glancing at him one last time before closing his eyes. “Really. You’re starting to get pretty one dimensional.”

“Oh, how your words wound me,” Nightmare said without missing a beat, gently swaying from side to side, taking Ink with him. He leaned down to kiss his cheek. “But I guess I deserve them. How can you forgive me, when I have wronged you so?”

Ink seemed to think about it for a second, his frown already gone from the soothing touch, a slightly wobbly smile on his lips. He glanced back at Nightmare, his eyes twin half-moons. “...You’re so ditzy.”

“You have turned me into a fool,” Nightmare said. There would have been a time where the words would have come sharp, almost a weapon themselves, but by now they have mellowed to the point it almost sounds like he’s just saying his name. The thought may have worried him once upon a time, but he had since long grown past that. Nightmare swallowed as he found his throat suddenly dry. “The biggest of fools.”

Ink’s eyes welcomed him in shades of the softest pink, so Nightmare couldn’t help but kiss him again. The way his mouth met his, pliant and eager, was more than enough to make Nightmare feel as if he had been set ablaze in the best of ways, for the flame itself felt like it was cradling him. That time, it was Ink who broke the kiss, panting against his mouth. Nightmare couldn’t help but notice the way his cheeks were flushed, revealing the unique sight of his freckles, resembling the most lovely set of stars. “Nightmare…”

“I love you,” he interrupted. There wasn’t anything special about it, for those words had been already said many, many times–Nightmare himself had used them way before he fell to the realization that he could love the way he does– but Ink stills, as if he was stricken. The words felt somewhat too big yet too small as he released them to the wind, but Nightmare already got used to the knowledge that they may always feel that way. Even so, he insists on them, unable to do anything else, “I love you.”

Ink blinked, his eyes widened. He was about to say something, maybe the same thing, but Nightmare stopped him with a second kiss, as short as a passing thought. When they separated, Ink pulled back in just as quickly as it was over, less graceful as they couldn’t keep down the twin smiles off their faces.

(It wasn’t hard to convince their teams that his negotiation attempt had went well, but not well enough to avoid them both ending up more disheveled than before they left.)

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

please more ak-15 stuff plss Chris🙏🙏

(GFL) AK-15 slow dancing with her S/O

Ah, a fellow AK-15 simp. YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND

Truthfully, 15 didn't have a lot of interest in attending a military Ball held by Griffin.

DEFY wasn't even officially a part of the PMC, but Angelia was invited to it by the Commander, and dragged the squad with her.

But, it wasn't too bad since S/O and many other T-Dolls she worked with would be there.

That, at least was a nice compromise for her personally.

Amusingly enough, none of the squad wore anything fancy while everyone else had either dresses or suits on, making them stand out.

Even most of the T-Dolls were wearing a nice outfit, but again, she did not care.

Until she saw S/O approach.

(S/O) "Fifteen? I'm surprised you came!"

15 immediately noticed that their expression brightened up upon seeing her, but she made no mention of it and only nodded in response.

(AK-15) "Angelia decided to attend, if only to please the Commander."

(S/O) "Hah, right. I guess I couldn't have convinced you?"

15 remained silent for a moment, her eyes looking away for a moment before shaking her head.

(AK-15) "...If you had asked me personally, I would have done so."

S/O noticed how awkward she seemed to be, understandably so.

She normally viewed things like this as a waste of time, so it made sense.

(S/O) "...Hey, come with me for a second?"

S/O extended their hand, waiting for her to grab it as a smile slowly crept onto their lips. 15 simply blinked before taking their hand, letting herself be dragged away from the stuffiness inside the main hall.

Taking a step outside, they were able to stand under the moonlight alone, though there were a small amount of people outside, everyone kept to themselves thankfully.

(S/O) "Ah, much better. I can actually breathe out here..."

15's eyes slowly glanced over to S/O, noticing how nice their suit/dress was.

(AK-15) "You look good tonight."

S/O was taken off guard by the compliment, suddenly stuttering as one finger reached for their collar, stretching it out and avoiding eye contact.

(S/O) "H-Hah, thanks. Personally, I thought this looked a bit too gaudy on me, I would've just preferred to wear my normal uniform.-"

From inside the main hall, the two could hear music softly playing, watching from outside as the crowds moved off into pairs, slowly dancing to the beat.

S/O stepped away from 15, only to extend a hand to her with another smile, albeit this one was softer.

(S/O) "Will you have this dance with me tonight, Fifteen?"

Her eyes slightly widened at the question, S/O swearing they could see her face flush a little from embarassment.

S/O wasn't even aware 15 could experience embarassment.

(AK-15) "I...do not know how to dance."

S/O's fingers brushed against her hand before holding it, laughing nervously.

(S/O) "Neither do I, to be honest. No better time than now, right?"

(AK-15) "...Then I will follow your lead."

S/O and 15's hands held each other as they awkwardly raised it up, simply stepping to the side, trying their best to mimic what the people inside were doing.

As soon as the lyrics for the song kicked in, they were slowly getting the hang of it.

S/O saw 15's eyes on them, looking intense as usual. But her face and body language said that she was relaxed, something S/O rarely saw these days.

After a few moments, her irises blinked into a solid pink color before returning to its normal state, surprising S/O.

(S/O) "A-Are you okay?-"

(AK-15) "I have just downloaded something to assist with slow dancing like this."

(S/O) "Ass-IST?!-"

15 suddenly dipped S/O back, they almost lost their footing were it not for her hand lowering to their waist.

She detected heat signatures rapidly rising to their cheeks, but she paid it no mind, instead, taking their hand behind her head, and leaning closer to them, S/O being able to see clearly the irregular shape of her eyes in detail.

(AK-15) "You have always taken care of me when it comes to matters like these. I wish to repay your kindness now, and take care of you."

15 now felt their heart quicken in pace, but she continued with her plan and raised S/O back up, expertly stepping in beat with S/O trying their best to catch up.

Despite their apparent nervousness, they still let 15 take the lead, fully trusting her.

Something that made her very happy, the only indication being her brows raising higher than usual as she danced with S/O.

S/O let their head rest on her chest as she guided their feet along the empty courtyard, both of them just enjoying the moment.

At this point, 15 knew that her squad was looking at them, but she didn't care.

All that mattered to her right now:

(AK-15) "...I'm glad I came here for you, S/O."

S/O quietly chuckled, stopping in place with 15 to look her directly in the eyes.

(S/O) "...I'm glad you're here too, Fifteen."

With 15 being one of the tallest T-Dolls, S/O had to stand on the tip of their toes to fully meet her lips, giving a gentle kiss that she leaned into, her arms wrapping around them, with S/O's hands on her shoulders.

...

(AK-12) "Aw, isn't that cute?

(AN-94) "...Ah, is that S/O?"

(RPK-16) "So it would seem. I'm glad AK-15 can actually enjoy herself instead of just thinking about the next mission."

(Angelia) "Alright girls, quit staring and give them some privacy. God knows they need it."

[acerathia]

Magic Shop || S. Todoroki

Summary:

After 'accidentally' getting cursed, you seek the witch of the forest to fix this problem. Only did you not expect a beautiful man to reside there...

Wordcount: 12.4k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Witch!Todoroki Shoto / GN!Reader

Tags/CW:

witch!shoto, contractual partners to friends to lovers, pining!! lots of pining, aged-up characters, GN reader, honestly mostly vibes in the woods idk what to say, fluff, innuendos, but sfw, maybe shoto is ooc, forgive my transagression <;/3

Note:

Please note that information about witches may be inaccurate as I was only using my fantasy. And any links are safe!! Also!! This is part of the 'Haunted House Collab' by Willow's House, check out the other works!!

Your hand slaps against the surface of your ringing phone, hoping to silence it with a lucky stroke back to sleep. But that only works for a couple of minutes as it starts once again relentlessly chiming, with no way to stop it. With a groan you remember the infinite number of alarms you had set yourself the night before, your past self too aware of your strong desire to sleep overpowering your need to go to work. So you don’t have a choice, you’d like to keep your job for as long as possible, even with your current sleeping habits.

Slowly you swing your upper body up, and blink blearily, just staring into your room for a couple of seconds, just trying to force you to properly wake up. You take your phone into your hand to stop the still blaring alarm and of course every subsequent alarm after that one. You run your hands over your face, once again trying to wake yourself up before getting up. Shuffling your feet, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up. A good splash in your face does wonders against this fatigue, but only sometimes, so you hope it works today.

It actually helped a bit, your eyes stinging from the direct contact with the flying water. After finishing the rest of your routine, you go back to your room and put your work clothes on, ignoring the crinkles in them, even if your hands mindlessly try to flatten them, they will eventually disappear, hopefully. You just don’t have time nor the patience to iron them out. Nobody is going to notice them underneath a blazer. A last look in the mirror tells you that you do look presentable enough to show up at work. So you grab your necessities and hurry out of the door.

You don’t hurry because you might be late, you just like to be a bit early on the street, never sure what might delay your way, a traffic jam leading every car to link its arms with each other, making any other form of transportation nigh unusable. This especially accounts for you being stuck between arms and torsos of other people, holding for dear life on a pole in the bus, trying your best to avoid falling onto the ground with every rumbling stop.

Your stop draws near, and you’re finally able to leave the suffocating transportation can, you take a second to breathe, to collect yourself once again. The shaking of the bus has almost begun to lull you back to sleep, even if you were standing with hands in a death grip. So you slap both of your cheeks and continue your way to your workplace.

At your arrival, you think that luck must be on your side, as you still have a couple of minutes until your shift starts, enough time to calm down after all that speed walk, and simply drink some water. You put your stuff into the locker and begin your work. And you hope to keep that luck running for the rest of the morning.

But it seems that your luck is already strained thin, as you mess up some of the dates by accident, inconveniencing a visitor at their work. So you hurry up to apologize for this mistake before they can ask for your boss.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. We’ll fix this as soon as possible, so feel free to take a seat, Mrs. Nukarumi,” you offer her with a smile, not moving a muscle as her face shifts at the name-drop. You don’t realize your mistake until she steps closer, a menacing aura clogging your airways. You begin to panic, but you keep your face professional, a smile, a questioning tilt to the head.

“Listen, I can excuse some mishap at work, happens to the best of us. But getting my name wrong, and to such a distasteful degree is arrogant, especially after being quite the regular at your establishment,” she puts two fingers on your forehead, her nails pressing against your skin, and now you drop your smile for a frown, as the shadow of her hand covers your face, suffocating in a way only air can be. “It’s Nakamura, and I’d like to know how you will live your life without a soul ever recognizing you.”

Her fingers begin to feel warmer with each second, and at first, you thought it might be due to the prolonged skin contact. That is until this warmth turns into heat, her fingerprints searing themselves into your skull, your skin non-existent. Some kind of pain spreads all over your facial features, not painful enough to coax out a scream, but enough to make your muscles twitch in response. At this sensation, you try your best to pull away, but you seem to be glued to her fingertips, like she’s holding the strings of your body between her knuckles with this simple touch.

You finally manage to take a step back the moment her fingers leave your skin. She seems to be satisfied with whatever she just did, as a grin spreads over her face as she glances over your face. Mischief is coloring the outlines of her lips before she just leaves without another word, not caring if the situation is fixed any time soon.

For some reason, this is the least of your worries, as you make your way to the bathroom with quick steps in search of a mirror. But the moment you stand in front of one, you can’t see anything wrong with your face, not even a small print of her fingers on your forehead. Everything looks normal and proper to you, so you just shrug it off, keen on returning to your post behind the desk.

On the walk back to your space, you come across the manager, who gives you a weird look, and you glance down at yourself, thinking your clothes might have gotten in disarray. But there’s nothing wrong with them. You still straighten your blazer a bit, which doesn’t seem to help, as he finally comes up to you.

“Excuse me, this area is for staff only,” he tells you with a warning in his voice, and you can only furrow your eyebrows at that.

“Uh, yes, I am a staff. It’s my shift right now,” you reply, confusion tinting your voice.

“Lying is useless in this case, I don’t recognize you, and I know all of my staff.” He shakes his head in some form of disappointment before threatening to call security if you don’t clear the space immediately.

Absolutely confused, you just leave the space, and even the building altogether, just heading home, because what else are you supposed to do? You got kicked out by your boss, for some strange reason, and nothing makes sense to you.

What did he say again? He doesn’t recognize you? That’s the wildest reason to kick someone out, ever. Does he want to fire you, or is he pulling some kind of elaborate prank or scheme? You honestly don’t care, you just hope you still get paid for your work.

As you have some time to spare, for obvious reasons, you decide to take a short trip to the store to get yourself some groceries, and maybe you could chat a bit with your acquaintance there, letting a couple of minutes pass in idle talk.

So you enter the store and begin collecting whatever your heart desires, and whatever your wallet allows you, before making your way to the register, where your almost friend works. You smile and greet them, hoping to be able to listen to whatever gossip they have at the moment. But they only give you the usual customer service smile, the usual greeting voice, no recognition sparking in their eyes at all.

Your chest constricts and you try to think of what you might have done to offend them, yet nothing seems to be the problem. And you could hardly bother them while they’re working, so you leave the place without inquiring any further about any possible reason.

Trudging home, you can’t help but wonder if you had done something for all of this to happen. There’s no way this day is filled with one unlucky incident after the other. There’s no correlation for this bad luck, you started your day as you do every single day. The only weird moment was with that weird woman, who just grabbed your face for no reason. But whatever she did, it didn’t work, you checked yourself in the mirror and everything looked fine to you, normal. So why does it seem like no one can recognize you?

You enter your home as the final puzzle clicks, and everything makes sense, well barely. A gasp escapes you at this revelation, and you almost throw your groceries onto the table, grabbing for your phone. With a frown, you open the front camera, seeing yourself, with every feature you know and are used to. Maybe the effect is similar to the one with a mirror?

You decide to take a picture of yourself, not focusing much on looking good, but rather on verifying your thoughts. After you take one where you’re sure your whole face can be seen, you open the gallery to click on the newest picture. But instead of a picture, you’re faced with a blurred mess. Did your hands tremble? There’s no way they moved that much while you took the picture. Still, you take another one, and another one, and another one. And all of them turn out to be blurry.

Chewing on your bottom lip you scroll further to some of the older pictures you have on your phone and they all look normal, your face still visible and clear. So there’s only one conclusion: only the ones you took today have that particular problem, so that means the woman had actually done something unexplainable to you.

With a sigh you put your phone away, driving your hand over your face. You screwed up, you accidentally messed up with the wrong person today, and now you reap the consequences. What are you supposed to do now? How could you even undo this? You can’t go to work if no one recognizes you, and you can’t just not work! You’re ruined, your life will be in shambles over a little mistake, this is so ridiculous.

Panic is running hot through your veins and you do what every sensible human being would do in such a dire situation. You take your phone and look it up, even if you don’t know how to phrase the problem properly. So it isn’t surprising when the first couple of hits you stumble across are different subreddits and medical pages about loneliness. But no matter how far you read into those, there is just no correlation between them and your current problem.

Thus, you dive deeper and you discover some shady-looking forum, all small font and 2000s style of blogging, in which you read a rather recent post.

Does the witch in that forest actually exist? Cuz I heard rumors, but no one has shown real pics smh. If yes, how do you meet them? Like, I wanna get some potions or stuff, idk

– i guess that’s one way to touch grass – that’s some witchful thinking LMAO – ofc, u just gotta go that fb page, there’s proof

Your curiosity gets the best of you and you click on the link, which turns out to be a rickroll. You don’t know if you’re supposed to laugh or groan in frustration. The only upside of this is that you had gotten some form of lead to… something. You’re not quite sure what the whole witch thing is about, but if there’s smoke, there must be a fire. At least you hope so, because it’s the only thing that could solve your problem at the moment. You’re pretty sure the woman put some kind of curse or spell on you, there’s no other way to achieve this kind of effect.

Naturally, you’re going to look for that witch now. You have quite some free time left, so maybe there is some upside to that too…

Trying to be positive about the whole predicament, you trade your current clothes for something more robust, something suitable to endure a visit to the forest. The place mentioned in the post isn’t that far from your living place, so you plan to walk there, getting some blood running to prepare you for the worst.

With a bottle, your phone, and whatever is necessary for your trip, you leave the building. Your phone in hand, you try to discover the fastest way to these woods to avoid losing time.

Finally arriving at the entrance of the forest, you decide to take the already existing paths, leisurely walking along them. And you have to admit it has taken you some time to realize something important in your current endeavor: there’s no way a witch is going to be living on the equivalent of a main street of the forest. No one would do that if they’re actively trying to get by without notice, and witches don’t want people to know where they live. That’s like, their lore or something.

This makes sense, and you nod to yourself, convinced by your own logic before you step off the path. At first, you paid attention to where you put your foot down, careful to not destroy any plants or to get stuck somewhere. But after a while, you simply forget to look at the ground and where you’re going. As a result it shouldn’t be a big surprise when one of your feet gets caught in something, you’re not quite sure what, because the moment you topple over you immediately begin to roll down a hill.

Scrunching your face, you brace yourself for the upcoming impact, hoping sincerely you won’t get knocked against a rock or a stump, breaking something or injuring you in any other way.

Nothing happens. Slowly the rotations come to a stop and you feel your back thud against the ground one last time, even if you still feel the turbulence in your head.

After taking a couple of seconds to get your head straight, you hesitantly open your eyes, only to glance at the face of another person. And for a moment you feel like nothing is real, he’s beautiful. Soft plush lips, slightly agape in surprise, eyes widened and sparkling in the early afternoon sun, and you need to look a couple of times back to notice the different colors, gray and blue, a storm separated from its lightning. His lashes brush against his smooth skin on one side, and against a burn mark on the other, as he blinks, trying to understand what just happened.

You immediately close your eyes again, hoping to fool him into thinking you had passed out, even if he probably saw you staring at his face like a fish out of water.

A slight chuckle, air fanning over your face, tells you that he is no fool. So you have no other choice but to take a breath and to slowly sit up, avoiding looking into his eyes with all your might, even if you’re compelled to look at him just a while longer.

Instead, you start looking around and you notice that you have fallen onto the edge of a beautiful meadow, flowers sprouting all around you, colors bursting underneath the late afternoon sun. The wind dancing between the petals. The delightfulness of this place fills you in awe, and it only grows bigger when you glance back at him, seeing the perfect man sitting underneath the rays of the sun, the wind ruffling his red and white hair playfully. You think about how it feels to touch this cloud in the afternoon sun.

That is until you finally register his gaze lingering on you. Your eyes widen in surprise and you can’t look him in the face anymore, once again. Nerves get the best of you, as you realize that he must have caught you staring at him and you fiddle with your fingers before you gather some courage to talk to him.

“Uhm, sorry for that, heh… You might be wondering why I’m here, and honestly you won’t even remember me when I’m gone, which is for the best I’m not going to lie. But I still wanted to ask, and I know it’s a weird question, but honestly, my whole day has been so weird, you can’t even believe it. What I mean is, do you happen to know where maybe, just maybe, where the witch of this forest is? I kinda got into that situation and I need help…” After getting everything off your chest, you take a second to take a breather.

“Oh, yes, I know where the witch is–”

“Really? Wow, that’s cool, rad, cool, cool! Oh, do you mind telling me? That would be awesome, for real,” you interrupt him, leaning forward in an outburst of excitement, once again just staring at his face

“No, I don’t mind. It’s simple really. The witch is here,” he answers, and if you’d known it better, you could have sworn to see some mischief glinting in his eyes.

But you’re too distracted, squinting your eyes trying to see anyone else in this open meadow. The witch can’t be hiding in such an open space, so you turn around to look behind you.

You jut your lips out when you couldn’t see anyone in the near distance. “Where? There’s no one here?”

The corners of his lips raise slightly. “Well, because we’re the only two people here, the best conclusion is that I’m the witch, is it not?”

You can only nod slowly, mouth agape and eyes roaming over his figure once again. Now that he mentions it, if you focus a bit on his blue eye, the one seemingly illuminating and softening his scar, you could discern symbols circling his iris, whispering secrets only he is to know.

It takes you a moment to bring these two concepts together, as this turn of events just swept you over in a cold rush. Even if you’re going to be honest with yourself, what did you expect? Some beautiful woman with long black hair, miraculously emerging from the waters of some shallow pond? This probably is your sign to read less fantasy… Does it count as fantasy if witches are apparently real?

You blink and push this thought away, this is really not the time to contemplate the structure of your world. So you take a breath, trying to formulate your thoughts more coherently this time.

“Oh, okay. Uhm, so… hold on, no, how am I supposed to call you? Because there’s no way I’m calling you a witch for, I don’t know how long, but that doesn’t matter… Uhm,” you veer off topic before just introducing yourself in the same breath.

Wow, you did amazing, you should pat yourself on the shoulder, because how can someone start at a point and finish at the wrong place? You bite on your bottom lip, slightly crunching your face. But the moment he says your name, the strain seems to melt off, you’re so taken aback by how elegant your own name sounds from his mouth.

“Nice to meet you, I suppose you can call me Shoto.”

With a nod, you do your best to memorize his name and to replace the imaginary picture of a witch with a replication of him, sitting between the flowers, and you’re aware that your memory could never truly replicate this look, this moment; it always be something faded compared to this, and you curse your insufficient brain capacities. Until you remember the actual reason you came looking for him.

“So, Shoto. I need your help, you know, as the witch, because, uh, I don’t know if you noticed already, but I guess someone cursed me? For some reason. Unrelated to anything really…” you laugh nervously and avoid his gaze “Like no one is able to recognize me, which is weird! I look normal in mirrors, but not in pictures? And, uh, see, I kinda need my face to work, you know? Is there something you could do to help me? You’re my last resort, pretty please?” You had hurried to explain your reasons for arriving at this place before the silence between you could even start, or worse, before he got the time to just stand up and leave.

He leans back and his eyes glance over your face, examining you, and you notice how the contrast between his eyes seems to grow for a moment; one almost glowing eerily while the other darkens to reach the depth of the universe. It feels like you’re in the presence of a supernova, a star about to burst by its seams.

But the moment he blinks with a nod the moment is gone, almost like it never was any different. At least he looks like he found whatever he’s looking for, the curse probably.

“I will help you. But in exchange I do need you to aid me in the time it takes me to break this particular spell,” he sets his condition and slightly cocks his head to the side, waiting for your response.

A wide grin splits your face as he agrees to help you. excitement thrumming through your veins at the prospect of working with an actual witch, and even getting rid of this problem altogether. But you still take your time to weigh the choices in your head.

You don’t really have another choice, do you? Because if you refuse, what are you supposed to do? It’s either you help him with his potions, whatever that requires of you, you’re ready to even give your blood for this, or you just suffer for the rest of your life under this horrid curse of unrecognition. Even if you have to admit that this condition of yours could be a real killer in the shady business of the underground, assassinations, break-ins, or whatever illegal activities they entertain. No one would ever be able to catch you, as you practically have no face to be identified by. If you only possessed more usable skills to pursue this potential path of corruption, but you don’t. So you only truly have one choice left.

You readily agree to his terms, on your own condition, you want to be able to go home at the end of the day. You’d like to enjoy your sleep if you involuntarily have to miss work. With the same reasoning, you promise him to come back tomorrow before you’re already on your way home. You hadn’t noticed how late it already was, because the meeting didn’t feel like it took hours off your day. But who are you to judge the sun for packing up a bit earlier, at least it’s still bright enough for you to walk on your own. And on your trek home, you see his captivating eyes every time you blink, almost being able to feel the difference in temperature, coals and ice, hot and cold.

They haunt you, no matter how often you shake your head to get rid of them. You do have bigger problems to concentrate on. But your worries vanish once you land on your bed, all washed up and in clean clothes. The short hike seems to have taken a toll on you, or maybe the revelation of the whole situation, as you fall asleep as soon as you could even think of sleep.

The next morning you wake up all sore, and you whine into your pillow, already despising the possibility, the simple thought of getting up. Yet you sit up and grab your phone to tell your boss that you’re sick. Which technically isn’t a lie, if something does belong in that section, then it’s a curse for sure, and it’s the best option to not get kicked out again, or fired for not showing up to work.

With that you pat yourself on the back for finding a solution to that particular problem, and for giving yourself at least a week to solve this mess. If it doesn’t work out by then, you’d have to get a doctor’s notice, and you honestly doubt that a doctor can diagnose you with this if they even can recognize anything in the first place.

One problem out of the way, you go through your morning routine to head out to start solving the main problem. You put on some proper clothes for this trip, and this time you’re not keen on not tumbling down a hill, and being aware of the hill in the first place will definitely make it a lot easier.

The way to the meadow turns out to be a lot easier once you know the way, and as a consequence, you gain fewer bruises on the way down. You’re glad for that because the ones you earned yesterday throb every time they get touched, even by the barest breeze. But you will survive this horrendous pain, everything to reach your goal of getting rid of this curse.

If only everything is as easy as you wish it to be. Because the moment you arrive at the border of the meadow, you encounter another problem: Shoto isn’t here today.

You curse under your breath while glancing around the empty open space. What are you supposed to do now? You can’t just walk aimlessly and shout his name into the darkness of the woods. That would be stupid, you don’t know what lurks in its insides, and you’d like to avoid disturbing the wildlife and him, probably, if he is actually living in this forest.

Should you just take a seat in the middle of the meadow? Would he be able to see you from wherever his residence is? Once again you curse, but this time at your inability to plan forward, because you really should’ve asked for some details, but for some reason, his agreement seemed enough for you to just up and leave. Now it is obvious how you didn’t think any of this through.

With a sight, you lightly kick the ground. After you take one last look over the meadow, you decide to walk up the borders of the open space in hopes of finding some sort of hint about his possible whereabouts.

It takes you some time to come across a small river, water glistening clearly under the sun. and you decide to follow it on a whim. Honestly, this is probably the next best thing, because everyone needs some form of water, and this forest has no lake, so the river makes absolutely sense.

The flowing water leads you deeper into the woods, but you can’t actually get lost if you just follow the river in the opposite direction, so you’re not really worried about that.

This decision turns out to be the right one because after some time you spot a cottage in the near distance. Surrounded by bushes and the ivory sparkles under the rays of the sun breaking through the ceiling of leaves. As you step closer, leaving the river behind, you’re able to see the veranda filled with all different kinds of plants in pots, hanging, standing, thriving. You think you can even discern some form of garden on the other side of the building, but you decide to stop in front of the door rather than visit that small space. Who knows how a witch is able to protect their place.

Before you even think about knocking, you note how this place doesn’t look like what you expect of a lair, but honestly, you don’t have any other visual than the gingerbread house, and to be fair, that’s a fairytale and as much as Shoto looks like he came straight out of one, there’s no connection between these two. Not that it matters, you’re certainly not a kid, so you doubt he would eat you, which is unlikable in the first place.

You raise your fist to finally knock on the wood of the door, but before your knuckles could even connect with it, the door actually opens, and you make eye contact with Shoto. You slowly lower your fist and notice how he’s holding a basket in his hand, eyebrows raised in silent surprise. For a moment you both just look at each other in confused surprise until he finally starts speaking.

“Oh, good morning. I didn’t expect you to be here so early. Come in,” he steps aside to fully open the door, inviting you into his home.

With hesitation you step inside, looking around as curiosity tempts you with its soft claws. A smell of a mix of herbs wafts in front of you as you inhale. There is a small seating arrangement, a loveseat, a sofa, an armchair, all resting on top of a soft carpet, inviting you to sit on the ground and enjoy some tea or read a book.

Connected to that space is an open kitchen, to which he heads to, and you hurry to follow his lead. It takes you a moment to take your shoes off, so you can’t help but follow his path carefully, too scared to accidentally disturb this calm space of his.

His home seems rather normal, but once again, what did you expect? Some kind of massive cauldron, some random stuff hanging off the ceilings, or body parts in a mysterious liquid? You should’ve expected this, this is just a normal cottage in the depths of the forest, the only exceptional thing, or person, is Shoto, and you don’t mean him being a witch.

Once you arrive in the space of the kitchen, he motions you to sit at the table, and you do, your expectations getting the best of you and waiting for some form of grimoire to thud onto the table. But nothing of that sort happens, he just sits on the opposite side, leaning his chin in his hand and just looks at you with slightly furrowed brows and a small pout on his lips.

You try your best to stay silent, even if the urge to say something is getting stronger with the second, but you withstand his piercing gaze resting on your hot skin. You bite on your tongue to swallow your question down. Especially when his eyes begin to emit a low light once again, all stormy weather, dark clouds shrouded in lightning.

It abates the moment he hums. “I see. Well, I guess I am able to undo this spell, but we both don’t know anything about the workings of the spell, it probably will take me some time to fix the proper counterspell. For that, I need your presence. Should we get started?” He leans back, his eyes glowing under the sunlight, but this time it feels a lot softer, less like magic and more like a fairy tale.

The next thought you have is filled with indignation because he just assumed you don’t know anything about the spell. Well you don’t, but it’s about the assumption itself, not the fact that you have no idea about this craft. So you can’t really say anything in your defense, because there’s nothing to defend but your pride, and it’s not worth it at the moment.

“Sure thing, but I have to let you know: I know how that woman put this spell on me, and… uh…” you start confidently, only to peter out, not knowing how to continue this trail of thought.

Despite that, he does seem surprised by that in some way, indicated by the way his eyebrows shoot up. “Is that so? Would you mind telling me?”

You almost think to hear some sort of accusation in his tone, but you have no reason or idea why that might be. So you just shrug it off before delving into a short explanation of the events that had occurred to you, until you recount the first meeting with him. Of course, there are some details you omit, because you’d rather not embarrass yourself in front of such a graceful person, because he’s a witch, not because you think he’s so beautiful you might turn blind if you look at him for an extended period of time, that would be ridiculous. Also, telling him about your fall is just unnecessary to the plot of this story, isn’t it?

He nods, eyes telling you that he realizes the omission, but he doesn’t comment on it. At least he seems like he understands more about the situation than you, simply from the description of whatever she had done to you, from whatever you had felt.

“This does help quite a bit. Doesn’t make the process much faster, just easier. Not that it matters, I’m qualified to undo this spell either way.” He stands up and begins to open the cabinets, rummaging through their insides before pulling out a notebook and a pen.

There’s no way this is his spellbook. The place where he keeps his most secret, most important spells. It looks like any ordinary notebook from the store, and it probably is, considering how normal everything looks. Maybe he has a special way of safekeeping?

You squint and stare at the notebook, trying to discover something hidden, but the only thing you see is how Shoto is writing some stuff down, the signs clear and elegant.

Only occasionally does he look up, eyes roaming over your face without sitting still on anything in particular. You doubt he could even if he wanted to.

And now your thoughts wander to the possibility that he would actually want to look at you, how his gaze would soften when caressing your skin, the sun sparkling against his dual-colored eyes, making them glisten with adora–

No, you have to stop here, or you’re not going to survive his presence in the upcoming brewing sessions. Healing sessions… Yeah, healing sessions, because he’s healing your hurt ego, getting rid of your predicament. There’s nothing else to call them. Uncursing? Spell Deletion? No, that sounds ridiculous. Healing sessions sound like some form of therapy, and being in the forest is kind of therapeutic, well, his presence sure is. Not that the name matters, you’re never going to talk about it with anyone, ever.

You blink a couple of times to come back to reality, only to make eye contact with him and your breath hitches. You do your best to act casual and prop your elbow onto the back of the chair but you slip and you have to catch yourself with a jerk.

A nervous laugh escapes you and you lean back, crossing your arms in front of your chest to get rid of your fidgeting. You avoid looking into his eyes this time, focusing on the fringe falling onto his forehead, red and white braiding into each other seamlessly.

He doesn’t even bother to say anything about what just happened and just goes straight to business. “Here’s what we’re going to do in the next few days,” he starts explaining like you just didn’t utterly embarrass yourself in front of him. “I doubt a counterspell will work without consequences because we don’t know the exact working of your curse, even if I have a good idea of it. Still, I don’t want to risk it, so I’m simply going to brew a potion, which will wear it out until it disperses on its own. That means we have to go out and collect some necessary materials. We’re going to do that later though, as there are some preparations I have to make first.”

With that, he closes his notebook and leaves it on the table as he stands up. He motions you to follow him and you leave the house at his heels.

Outside he pulls some sort of platter from below a table and hands it to you before he kneels on the ground in front of a pot in the form of a long rectangle. Inside it is a green plant, stalks spreading out like rays of the sun, leaves tiny and feather-like.

“These are Maidenhair Ferns, also called The Hair of Venus. They could have some effect on your current condition, but we have to dry them first for their potency to unfold. I’m going to take care of the cutting of the plant and I ask you to put them neatly onto the platter. That way we can continue our work at a faster rate,” he explains, his gaze only brushing over you before leading his focus back onto the plant in front of him.

You nod, even though you’re not sure he could register this movement with the way he’s intently looking at the leaves of the ferns. You still take a seat by his side and put the big plate on your lap, ready to receive the first leaves and stems.

At first there isn’t a lot for you to do, so you’re busy looking around, taking in the sights of the forest, enjoying the sun on your face, but soon enough you start taking the stalks filled with neat leaves and arrange them properly on the plate, trying to avoid stacking them as much as possible.

Luckily, he doesn’t pick that many plants for you to even begin thinking of that possible problem too much. With a platter covered with just the right amount of leaves, he finally turns around to face you.

“We need to pluck the leaves from the stem because each part is different, and will need a different time to properly dry. We only need the leaves for the potion, but I’d hate to waste the rest,” he murmurs, his long, nimble fingers already running along the stem of one of the plants, picking the leaves off with careful fingertips, barely staining his nail beds in the process.

You proceed to take one fern in your hand, trying your best to imitate him and to rip the leaves at the right spot and not rip them apart accidentally. Sticking your tongue slightly between your teeth in concentration, you manage to not destroy the first fern, even if the process has gotten a bit messy, your fingers turning slightly green. You begin to understand why people who garden have a ‘green thumb’.

You both work in a comfortable silence for some time, simply enjoying the repetitive motion. Before you even dare to think about standing up, you both make sure that everything is properly separated and not layered. Just then you stand up and follow him around the corner to some sort of backyard. You reckon this is the place you glanced at earlier. There’s a table standing out in the open, and he motions you to put the platter you were carrying onto its surface. In that position, the sun is going to dry them for you, essentially doing the work for you.

The moment your hands are free, you get the urge to stretch into the rays of the sun, your blurry, lidded gaze glancing over the edge of the open space between the bushes. And that’s where you spot it. A beautiful deer.

With a silent gasp, you blindly try to tap Shoto on the shoulder, accidentally brushing against his jaw in your hurry. Normally you would apologize, but you don’t dare tear your eyes away from the deer, much less make a noise, in fear of it disappearing without a trace. The doe, you correct yourself, as it lacks any form of horns.

“Oh,” you hear Shoto say softly under his breath, finally spotting the deer too.

For a moment you both just stay silent, not daring to even move too much, simply enjoying the mesmerizing sight of a doe under the shining sun, framed by the lush green of the forest. That is until the deer just turns around and jumps away like it just doesn’t care about you both just staring at it in awe.

You release a small puff of air, some tension releasing as you had been too caught up in the moment. Turning around in his direction, you regret even breathing the second you lock eyes with Shoto, his face closer to you than you had anticipated. It seems like you both have moved closer in that short moment, huddling together for some reason at the mere sight of the doe.

Your eyes jump over his dark eye to the lightning blue one, electrifying you like a summer storm, and you wonder if he’s gotten hit by lightning itself, resulting in these mesmerizing eyes, and the scar around that bright eye, the only blemish on his smooth, soft looking skin. Maybe it’s connected to his powers, to these symbols deep inside the blue, unreadable to you.

To avoid staring at his scar, your gaze travels over his high cheekbones to his plumb lips, and you could almost imagine them quirking slightly, the moment before he reveals a true laugh of joy out of his soul. This thought startles you and you immediately take a step back, bumping into the corner of the table.

A low whimper escapes as you double over, clutching your wounded side in a dramatic manner. At least now you’ve got a reason to avoid looking at him, to avoid getting lost in all these daydreams about him and…

“Are you okay? Did you hit a sensitive spot?” he asks, worry tinting his voice as he puts his hand softly on your back.

You nod at first before you begin to shake your head, these two questions colliding in your head, all while you try to ignore the possible innuendo. If you step into that territory of thought, you might as well run into the woods and bury yourself in some random cave, to never face him again.

The pain slowly abates after you take a couple of breaths to calm yourself down. It’s going to form a bruise, which isn’t that big of a deal, but you wish it wouldn’t feel like something had impaled your guts.

Straightening up, you show him a thumbs up, even if his slightly furrowed eyebrows and jutted lips show that he isn’t quite convinced. But he doesn’t look like he’s going to fight you over that, so his hand leaves your back. The spot is suddenly so cold, and you can’t help but miss the warmth of his skin, even through clothing.

You try your best to divert his attention away, and maybe yours too, as you look around, in particular to avoid looking at his face. You spot some form of wooden fence, probably a small garden, and you step in its direction with a craning neck to see what he could have planted there.

“Oh, is that a garden? What did you put there? Do you sustain yourself like that? How do you know what soil to use for what plant? Are these to eat or just for your potions?” These questions pour out of your mouth, the perfect distraction for you both as you don’t have to pull out some random question out of nowhere. And you’re genuinely interested.

He seems to have noticed your attempt at distraction according to his rising eyebrows, but he still indulged you and steps closer to the high edge of the garden and you join him close behind him.

With a soft voice he starts explaining the use of each herb, each fruit and plant, patiently pointing toward them, all while mentioning neat little details, like their harvest season, how picky certain plants are. And you can’t help but be captivated by his knowledge and the way he shares it. Even if you sometimes break out of the immersion of his voice when your eyes begin to roam over his face instead of listening.

Time passes with you both kneeling in the soft grass and inspecting the little space filled with love. You only notice how late it has gotten with the way your eyelids feel heavy, your gaze unfocusing and hazy. And as much as you’d love to just take a nap in the middle of the grass under this beautiful weather, you have to get home before that.

So with a goodbye and a promise to return tomorrow, you make your way home, the way easier to walk as your body starts to memorize the path. You could say you could find the way to the cottage in your sleep with how tired you currently feel.

It’s no wonder you barely remember getting ready for bed, much less going to sleep because your brain is practically already out of commission before that happens.

The next day you wake up with a satisfied groan. You’ve never felt this refreshed in your life before, and when you glance at the time, you startle, realizing why. You’ve overslept, you’re late for work! You immediately stand up, heart beating a frenzy in your chest and your arms tremble slightly. With a sudden rush, you remember how you had taken sick leave just yesterday, and you slump back onto your bed.

With a shaken sigh, you sink back into your pillow. You could have slept a bit more, but it seems like your internal clock was keen on terrorizing you today. And with that rush of adrenaline, you might as well stay up and get ready to visit Shoto today.

You take your time to eat breakfast and just enjoy the silence of your home before you make yourself ready for the way. You also check on the state of your food, in case you need to get some groceries. But you don’t, so you clean your place a bit before heading out.

And once again you step through the same path you’ve been visiting the last few days, and you wonder if it would inevitably become some sort of established path with the amount of walking you’ve been doing between the same couple of trees. Maybe you should start changing the route a bit the next couple of times.

You arrive in front of his door and this time you’re able to knock on the door before it’s ripped open, and you startle by the look Shoto throws out of the door, all narrow eyes and downturned lips, almost resembling a snarl. You hesitate in asking if something is wrong. His eyes blink before recognizing you, in the widest sense, and his whole face seems to almost soften. With no exchange of words, he steps to the side and opens the door for you to step in.

Mirroring the day before, he makes way for the table and sits down, waiting for you to do the same. And you do, because you’ve been walking closely behind him.

His notebook is already open on the surface of the table, and he leans slightly forward. “The leaves of yesterday still need some time to fully dry, so today we should go out and collect some other stuff I mentioned yesterday. Is that alright with you?”

You would do anything to get rid of that curse on your face, so of course it’s alright with you, and you nod to show him that. He also nods in confirmation before closing his notebook and grabbing a basket to put whatever you will collect today inside.

While he is doing that, you hurry to the door to open it up for him, even bowing slightly with a grin across your face and the moment he passes by you, you think to see a small smile on his lips, amusement sparkling clearly in his face.

After closing the door behind you, you follow him to take his side as he ventures deeper into the forest. His steps are purposeful, and you’re sure he knows where to find the target material. Still, you wish you could help with whatever he’s looking for, but you doubt you would be able to recognize it even if he told you the name of it. Despite that, you’re happy to listen when he starts talking, explaining what he’s looking for.

“I have some vague idea of what could help against your current ailment. Right now, I’m looking for a Bird’s Eye…” he trails off as he seems to have spotted something.

This revelation confuses you. What does he mean with a Bird’s Eye? Is he going to pluck the eyeballs of some poor bird? Is that something he usually does? He doesn’t seem like the person to entertain such thoughts. You want to ask him if there’s another way, but he had vanished between some bushes.

You swallow down the tremble in your throat and fight through the shrubbery to catch up to him. You emerge a couple of steps next to the spot he’s bending over. With some paces to place yourself at his side, only to see him hold some sort of purple plant delicately between his fingers. Petals growing upward the long stem to a soft point. A lavender plant… A Veronica… And suddenly you feel stupid for still assuming something without real proof. Still, you can’t help the relieved breath you let out.

Straightening up, Shoto shoots you a look, all hidden crinkles, and creasing eyes, almost like he’s making fun of you, like he’s amused at your obvious relief. “Seems like you had expected something else, didn’t you?” he asks, his gaze resting somewhere on your cheek.

“Uh, what else am I supposed to think? Telling me, ‘oh yeah, we need some bird’s eye’, doesn’t sound like, I don’t know, like you’re about to pluck an eyeball? How am I– hold on, did you do that on purpose?” you gasp at your own accusation. “You did! That’s so mean of you, I can’t believe you would use my trust like that!”

You pout slightly, even if you doubt he could see it properly, so you cross your arms in front of you to show your stance on things right now, even if you’re aware that you look overly dramatic. But that’s the point.

Your stance doesn’t seem to affect him, because you suddenly hear a light chuckle escape his lips, and when you glance at his face, you can clearly see how his lips quirked up in a silent laugh, all soft and delicate.

While you’re staring at him, you’re suddenly glad he can’t see your face clearly, because you probably look stunned, amazed, stupefied, and every other word to describe the way your eyes widen and your mouth standing slightly agape.

His eyes wander over your face, eyebrows scrunched up as if he wants to see whatever the fog is hiding behind that blur. Whatever he’s looking for doesn’t seem to be there, because the frown only deepens before he turns back to the flower in his hand, putting it carefully into the basket.

“These are the flowers we’re looking for. Do you mind picking some up?” he asks, already doing so himself, inspecting each one carefully to only select the ones most fitting.

You nod and diligently begin to pick the ones you seem worthy, collecting them into some sort of bouquet in your other hand. After a while, your hand is barely able to hold onto more, and you’re quite content with the look of your makeshift bouquet. Not being able to resist the urge, you tap him on the shoulder and hold it under his nose.

“Please accept this!” you say dramatically, acting like you just confessed your undying love to him, but you couldn’t stay serious long enough to wait for his response, especially after seeing his raised eyebrow. You burst into laughter. “Sorry, sorry! I just thought it looked like a bouquet, so–”

“Oh, so you wanted to offer me the Eye of a Bird? How romantic,” he drawls, his mouth puckered and eyebrows high on his forehead. Only the gleam in his eyes seems to betray his serious stance.

You nod with a muffled giggle. “The peak of modern romance, of course! You deserve nothing less than the best.”

He takes the flowers from your outreached hand and inspects them, acting too critical of your offering before nodding in approval. “I shall accept these, but only this time.”

You gasp, a hand over your heart. “Only this time? My good sir, then I shall prepare something more glamorous, something you can’t refuse for the next time!” you declare with a boisterous voice and a puffed chest.

Once again his lips purse in consideration. “Well, I don’t know if this is possible, there won’t be a next time, that’s for certain. You shan’t woe me this easily.”

“We shall see how this turns out,” you puff with arrogance, only to break down in little giggles.

The moment you break the immersion, he too breaks his facade with a broad smile, pearly teeth on display and eyes crinkling with happiness and mischief. With the breeze ruffling his hair he looks like the image of pure bliss.

His obvious happiness makes you smile, and you have to catch yourself before you let out a dreamy sigh. You have no other choice but to break the line of sight, lest you do something you might regret, especially with the way your insides feel all soft and malleable at his sight, full, ready to give something to always enjoy the way he seems to be in such peace. But you can’t give in, no matter how much your heart seems to plead with your senses. You should not do this, you shouldn’t even think like this in the first place.

So you redirect all your focus into picking the perfect flowers, paying close attention to the details. With that, you both slowly fill the basket, and before you know it, the evening sun is shining through the leaves, putting everything in a soft orange glow.

The full basket has gotten quite heavy and you both decide to share the burden, each one of you grabbing a side of the handle to carry it together. This arrangement is there to make it easier for you both, so no problems should arise. Even if the path you’re taking is narrow in some passages and trying to get through them together, side by side, his shoulder ends up bumping, brushing against yours more often than not. And every time this contact happens, you do your best to not flinch away or to think too closely about the warmth he radiates; avoiding leaning closer to him than you already are.

Finally, you arrive at the cottage and you feel like you have lost all breath in your lungs, most of it evaporating by the simple look at him, by the simple brush. Despite needing some space, you continue to help him carry the basket to some sort of designated space inside the house. And once you get rid of that weight, you stretch your arms above your head, hearing a silent yet satisfying crack.

Feeling the need to rest outside, even if you just were under the open sky, you take some slow steps out of the door, because you desperately need a moment to breathe without being scared of brushing against him.

That’s how you end up sitting on his veranda. The sun had already set and darkness is swallowing the forest, which is now filled with entirely new noises and movements. Despite the lack of light and the unknown biting at your toes, you don’t feel unsafe or in danger, rather the silence and the cool breeze have a calming effect on you.

With a roaming look into the sky, you notice the amount of stars visible against the deep blue of the night. Without any trees obstructing your sight and no artificial lights destroying their twinkle, you can’t help but be entranced with them. You’re so fixated on their beauty that you almost miss Shoto taking a seat by your side.

For a moment you both stay silent, arm against arm, shoulder against shoulder, knee brushing a thigh, and this time you don’t even dare to hold your breath. You feel the desire to lean against him, to feel his breath flutter against your skin. But you’re satisfied with this moment, with the way he seems to glow under the stars, giving him a halo of silver light.

Only because you’ve been staring at him do you notice when he stretches his hand into the sky and lets his finger connect individual stars into constellations. You squint, trying to see the lines from your perspective but you struggle a bit as everything is shifted, so you don’t even know which stars are connected despite following the way his finger moves.

He seems to notice your struggle, as he scoots closer, his front now almost touching your back, his head hovering over your shoulder to get down to your height. After settling like that he carefully grabs your fingertips and waits for you to pull away or to react in any way to show him your rejection, but you don’t. You rather marvel at how soft his skin feels against yours in that feather-light touch.

His hand leads your fingers to make a fist with only your index finger pointing out. With your hand like that, he rests his palm against the back of your hand, on your wrist. Positioned like that he slowly begins to show you the constellations with your own finger, all while making sure it’s visible from your perspective. While guiding you, he softly murmurs their names and the planets and stars, explaining everything and yet nothing, because you’re almost too focused on his breath against your face, the way his chin brushes against your shoulder, and you try your best to not turn around to directly face him.

After some time you do begin to relax and to enjoy all this information and the light contact. You end up leaning against his torso, his cheek resting on your head, and you both remain like that for some time, simply soaking in the presence, the silence and the warmth between you.

So it’s no wonder how you barely notice the atmosphere wrapping around you, lulling you into something peaceful and welcoming.

You only notice how gone you were when the sun's rays hit your face softly, waking you up with their soft kisses, and you can’t even be mad at being woken up like that. It is comfortable and warm. Still, the moment you open your eyes, you startle slightly at the sight of the unfamiliar, yet familiar ceiling. You slowly sit up and a patchwork blanket slides off your shoulders to bunch around your waist.

With a quick look at your surroundings, you realize where you are: the cottage. And with that realization you put the pieces together: You fell asleep on him, while stargazing, while holding his hand.

You bury your face in your hands, embarrassment flooding your ears. You hope you didn’t mumble, or worse, drool in your sleep. Or you might simply never look him in the face again.

Peaking between your fingers, you spot him in the open kitchen, silently working on something over the stove, his back turned towards you.

“Breakfast is almost done. You can freshen up a bit, I put some clothes that might fit you in the bathroom,” his voice sounds and you flinch, surprised he had noticed you being awake. “It wasn’t difficult, you made quite some noise.”

You frown, jutting your lips out. Is he reading your thoughts? Is that one of the abilities of witches? You sure hope it isn’t, or else he would know about everything that had crossed your mind in his presence… You desperately want to avoid this possibility, but it can’t hurt to try. So you think of something so stupid, so outrageous, he has no choice but to react.

I couldn't read the witch's handwriting at all, she always wrote in curse-ive.

You almost hit your own face with a groan, but you keep your gaze on his back, trying to see if this entices any form of reaction out of him. But nothing happens and you just sigh, even if you’re still curious how he had guessed your thoughts to that degree. Maybe you should ask him later…

A shrug and you stretch the last bit of heaviness out of your limbs before you grab the blanket to fold it and to put it neatly onto the sofa you’ve been sleeping on. It would be rude to leave it crumbled like that, especially after he put the effort to carry… you… For a moment you stop in your tracks and just blink blanky at the blanket in front of you.

He carried you… and put a blanket over you… He carried you…?

This realization hits you like a swinging bat and you have to bite on your lower lip to suppress a gasp. Your eyes jump to his figure, making sure he’s not looking at you, his back still turned towards you, and you slowly make your way to the bathroom, your joints feel like they’re locked up and creaking like a bad oiled machine.

Once you arrive in the bathroom, you close the door behind you and lean heavily on the sink. You feel like you just gave yourself some serious whiplash. So, with a deep breath, you begin to splash your face with cold water, trying to calm yourself down before you turn around to look at the clothes he had prepared for you. Holding the shirt in front of you, you decide that it will fit you even though it might be a bit loose, but you can’t complain about that.

With that you change into the fest pair of clothes, folding your clothes neatly. You don’t even take the time to look into the mirror to check how they fit, almost afraid of what you might see.

You leave the bathroom with another stretch and enter the open kitchen to offer your help to him, but he refuses politely because he already plated the table and there’s simply not enough space for the both of you to cook something without elbowing each other.

So you take a seat at the table, resting your head on your palm, content with just watching him being busy with the food preparation. He moves with a practiced hand, movements smooth and elegant. You can only observe as his surprisingly broad shoulders move, muscles stretching and filling his shirt. Your eyes wander over his lean back and you purse your lips the moment you see his small waist. You wonder if you would be able to put your arms around his whole torso, or your legs…

You inhale sharply, immediately averting your eyes to the window, trying to divert your thoughts to something else, anything but to look back to his direction. It’s a beautiful day outside, there’s no need to stay in the bedroom, or inside, no need to have any thoughts relating to inside activities.

Your gaze jumps around, looking for something to latch onto, but there’s nothing but the wonderful depth of the forest, which isn’t quite enough to distract you from the possible way his muscles could coil when he leans over you…

A bite to the inside of your cheek brings you out of that train of thoughts, and you’re aware of how you need something more concrete for your distraction, like that deer. But you could only vaguely discern some movements in the bushes and nothing really stepped out of the shadows.

The clatter of a plate disrupts your almost desperate search as Shoto puts a plate in front of you, and you can’t stop the excited grin spreading over your face at its contents. He made some waffles, toppings dripping down its sides and its smell luring you in to take the first bite. It looks delicious, an absolute masterpiece. And you can’t resist it, barely taking your time to thank him properly for his efforts, before digging in and letting the soft dough melt over your tongue. You close your eyes and you almost moan out of delight, the taste an explosion of pure bliss. Instead of embarrassing yourself like that, you just stuff your mouth with another bite.

And before you know it, the plate is empty, leaving you full, yet yearning for more. But you doubt you could even manage to get another bite down and just slump backward into the back of the chair, feeling some kind of satisfied drowsiness.

“Shoto, my man, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten. You got some magic hands,” you tell him and grin widely when he raises his eyebrows at your choice of words.

Instead of properly answering your compliment, he lets out a puff of air before beginning to collect the empty dishes. You immediately stand up, keen on helping him this time around, especially when you don’t need much space to do the dishes. That’s how you end up drying the washed dishes and putting them away in their respective places. Of course not without him showing you where they belong first.

With this arrangement, you finish doing the dishes at a faster rate. He’s drying his hands as he turns around to look at you. “I’m going to brew the potion today, or at least try to. Feel free to take a book to entertain yourself for the time being.”

He points to the huge shelf covering the entire wall of the living room and you gape slightly at its size. How did you miss that in the first place? Even if you have been distracted by a lot of things, this thing is huge, there’s no way you could have just not seen it.

You barely give him a nod before immediately stepping closer to the shelf, running your fingers along the spines of the books. So many different topics, genres and authors, and there is no way Shoto didn’t read them all. No wonder he has such huge amounts of knowledge. After you have taken a couple of strides along the length of the shelf, you finally choose one of the books and take it out of its place.

With it firmly in your palm, you go and make yourself comfortable on the couch. Once you’re in the perfect position you start reading, thumbing through the book about heroes and their powers, and your brain rattles with all the possibilities and the groundwork of this fictional world.

The background is filled with the sound of utensils clashing and clattering, soft blubbering of his potion, and after a couple of pages, you decide to take a look from afar.

He’s still in the kitchen, bending over his work, a slight furrow between his eyebrows, a thoughtful pout tugging at his lips. And you just look. Just admire the evenly split hair of red and white softly falling, framing his face, the calm demeanor revealing his kind heart. You smile. You can’t help but think, these thoughts filling your veins, coming from your heart, how charming he looks, how beautiful, how handsome. Despite being aware that this relationship is entirely contractual, the chance of seeing him again after this ordeal is slim, you admit to yourself, you like him, a lot. And there’s no way to truly know how he feels about you. To him, you’re probably just another person requiring his services, nothing more, nothing less, only bound by the verbal deal you’ve made.

This realization makes you smile bittersweetly, already accepting the outcome. So you try to get back into the book, to put your focus back on the ongoing plot. But your thoughts circle back to the endless ways this could end, the endless ways this could turn and bend. And no matter how badly you wish for it to end otherwise, every path leads to the same blocked path, a deal done, a face regained and a connection lost. Who are you to interfere with fate?

You force yourself to face it, to accept it, no matter how much your heart resists. It will hurt, but everything turns out to be how it’s supposed to be.

A breath and you begin to digest the story word by word, forcing yourself to take them in until you finally relax and get into the flow of the story and its plot, all while the background noises fade out of your consciousness.

You feel yourself clutching at your non-existent pearls as you near the end of the book when Shoto walks up to you, nudging your foot with his to get your attention. And once you look up from your book, he holds a cup with some sort of tea in your direction. With thanks you take it and immediately sip from the warm liquid.

“I thought you’re supposed to brew that potion?” you ask him, cupping your hands to warm your palms on the glazed ceramic.

“I was. That’s the potion in your hand,” he answers and the corners of his mouth slightly dip upward.

You startle at this revelation and almost let the cup drop. “Wh-what? You could’ve said that earlier!”

“How could I when you so eagerly took it from my hands before I could even say anything?” he chuckles and cocks his head to the side, eyes crinkling at your shocked face.

You gape at him and look at the half-empty cup in your hands, then back at him. “Are you messing with me? It feels like you’re messing with me…”

He shakes his head. “As amusing that would be, I’m not. You’re drinking the potion right now. It will probably take some odd hours to take full effect, if at all.”

Slowly you nod and just down the rest of the tea-potion in one big gulp. You exhale and the warmth of the tea coupled with the late hour begins to make you quite drowsy. There’s no way you’re staying two nights at his place, that would be just so utterly rude of you, especially if you’re going to lend out some of his stuff. That means it’s time for you to head home, as much as you’d like to stay on the couch and continue reading.

You close the book and return it to its place before you thank him once again and take your stuff. With everything in hand you begin your way home, the evening still young and the wood still filled with enough light to not get hurt when crossing it.

Finally arriving home without accidents, the first thing you do is change out of the borrowed clothes and prepare them to wash later so you can return them to him. And you start doing your nighttime routine, even if the initial drowsiness is now gone for some reason, but you’d like to be prepared for the moment you feel tired again, and maybe you need some distraction. If you don’t, you might as well go insane with anticipation, literally expecting something to happen immediately.

This anticipation fills you with adrenalin or something, because for some time you just walk around your place aimlessly, not able to settle down without feeling your heart race. You finally settle on your bed with your phone in hand, trying to calm down to the best of your abilities. It doesn’t quite work, because you realize you never asked Shoto for his number, you never felt the need to, and maybe you shouldn’t even ask in the first place.

You sigh and roll around, beginning to scroll through whatever apps you have in rotations, and you only stop to scratch at your tingling face. At first you don’t think too much about it, as it only itches around your mouth. But then the itch begins to spread over your cheek and you have to stop everything you’re doing, because you have to know if you suddenly have some sort of allergic reaction. After thinking for a while, you don’t remember eating something that could elicit such a reaction, so it can’t be that.

It takes you a moment to realize what that could mean and you jump off the bed, rushing to the mirror only to stop in the middle of the way when you remember that mirrors don’t show your problem with your looks. So you race back and dive for your phone, almost hitting your head on the headboard. You don’t pay attention to that though as you’re opening the camera, facing it towards you.

After you take a picture in semi-good lightning, you click into your gallery, only to see the newest pic and stare at it. There’s you! With every single feature you remember and cherish.

And before you know it, you’re already out the door, dashing through the streets and into the woods. You know you should be careful about tripping, but the need to see him, to thank him, to hug him, is overwhelming. Excitement is coursing through your veins, giving you a boost in energy and you feel laughter bubbling through your lungs.

Then you stumble. Unlike the first time, you don’t immediately take a tumble down the hill, because someone catches you right on time, long before you could even get closer to the ground. You grab their arm to straighten up and end up looking directly into Shoto’s eyes. For a moment you just stare at him, mesmerized by his glittering, compelling eyes, by the way you can so clearly see them despite the darkness surrounding you both.

His words bring you back to reality. “Oh, back so soon?”

“Wh– huh? How? I mean, yes, but how did you know it’s me?” you ask bewildered, shutting your mouth with some force before you keep it open when you remember that he can see your expressions now.

He smiles, plush lips revealing perfect teeth, eyes crinkling with obvious joy while roaming over every detail of your face, taking their time over every little feature; almost like he finally found whatever he has been looking for every time he glanced in your direction. One of his hands cups your face, caressing your skin. You lean involuntarily into his touch, enjoying the soft skin on yours more than you should have.

His next words make your heart beat faster than you thought possible, and suddenly a new path opens itself before you.

“My dear, I would always recognize you, no matter what.”

[goldennikko]

TIRED — huh yunjin

summary : things take a little turn while helping yunjin remove her makeup.

pairing : yunjin x 6th member!reader

tags : f!reader ; idol!au ; soft make out session ; reader is '01 liner, but older than yunjin

requested: ✘

word count : 0.8k

yunjin didn't notice the vehicle stopping, too busy playing with your fingers as you sat next to the american, that is, until you tugged on her pointer finger. you knew you wouldn't be able to get her attention by speaking, and you were right when she raised her head to look at you with sleepy eyes and removed her earphones.

"we're here." you mumbled, exhaustion finally catching up to you at the thought of finally cuddling with your girlfriend after a long day.

yunjin clung to the back of your hoodie, refusing to let go of you, as you were the first to climb out of the vehicle. you ushered the sleepy american in, needing to speak with your leader first about tomorrow's schedule. albeit reluctant at first, yunjin parted ways with you, wishing the other girls a good night's sleep, and went straight to your room.

it didn't take you long to go over the schedule with chaewon before bidding each other good night and heading to your room. you melted when you opened the door to find yunjin on your bed, face planted on your pillow, blanket half-covering her body.

you approached the bed and leaned down to wake her up, one hand running up and down her back and kisses all over her head. 

"mi vida?" she whispered sleepily, blindly reaching for you. you chuckled and kissed her ear when she exposed it to you by turning her head in your direction. 

"yes, mi coeur. come, let's get the makeup off our faces together."

yunjin whined in protest. "can't we just go to sleep?" she turned on her back, wrapping her arms around your waist to pull you on top of her.

"i know you're tired, jen, but we have to remove that heavy makeup. i'll do the work, all you have to do is sit still and pretty."

with that being said, yunjin let you peel her off your bed. she sat in front of the vanity mirror, eyes half-lidded, watching you get to work. your ears turned red when you noticed she had focused her attention on you. even when she was tired and sleepy, you could see her love for you in her eyes.

"stop staring." you mumbled, avoiding her eyes.

yunjin smiled and grabbed your wrist, effectively halting your movements. you locked eyes, memorizing each other's features, but she was the first to break eye contact, only to look down at your still lipstick-covered lips.

she couldn't help it. you were too caring, eager to assist her despite your own exhaustion that you desperately tried to hide. she could tell by the way you blinked to keep sleep out of your system or clenched your jaw to keep yourself from yawning. yunjin just couldn't help herself.

so she leaned in to take your lips in between hers, your eyes fluttering shut as her lips caressed yours. you returned the kiss as softly as you could, but even when it was soft and gentle, it made you weak in the knees. your other wrist was still being held by the american, and her thumb brushed across your pulse point. you clutched her shoulder, afraid of falling apart in front of her.

yunjin, despite her sleepiness, could tell you were melting and guided you to sit on her lap. she released your wrist and wrapped her arms around your waist to keep you from falling, your now free hand reaching up to hold her face. you drew back to catch your breath after a few more kisses, yunjin peering up at you as you rested your forehead against hers, breath intermingling with hers.

"you look like a mess." you giggled breathlessly at her lips now smudged with the lipstick you were wearing.

yunjin smiled at the sight of you and the sound of your giggle. "i could say the same to you."

you returned to work after catching your breath, yunjin silently watching you, closing her eyes when told, then opening them again to stare at you. when it was her turn to remove your makeup she insisted, you remained in her lap, the american insisting that it would be easier for her to work that way.

"i'm so in love with you, mi vida." yunjin whispered, leaning in to peck your lips.

you hummed. "me, too, mi coeur. me, too."

once done, you led yunjin back to your bed, too lazy to change your clothes. you're both already wearing sweatpants and a hoodie so it's fine either way. yunjin spooned you from behind, her chin resting comfortably on your head and her legs tangled with yours. you buried yourself in her embrace and placed one hand on her arm that was wrapped around your waist, but she reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers.

"thank you."

you squeezed her hand. "for what?"

"for taking care of me tonight." yunjin replied and pulled you impossibly closer to her, afraid you'd slip through her grasp.

"thanks to you, too."

with silence following your response, your eyes slowly closed, and it didn't take long for you to succumb to exhaustion, which greeted you with open arms. but before you fell asleep, you heard yunjin say one last thing and felt a kiss pressed against the back of your head.

"i love you, mi vida."

[strangersteddierthings]

Untitled Song

An installment in the The Interview universe.

"This is a love song."

"What? No, it's not!" Steve argues, looking back down at the notebook.

"It reads like a love song. The little bit you just sang for me has love song vibes," Robin leans more of her weight onto Steve's back, where she's standing over his shoulder reading the lyrics.

He stares down at the page. "Yeah. Okay. I see it. But, like, I didn't mean it to be all love song vibey."

"I would do it again if I could hold you for a minute," Robin reads in a flat tone, unimpressed.

"Okay! Stop, I don't- I mean- ugh!" Steve slumps forward, resting his forehead on the page of lyrics. "Okay, fine, but like, in context I'm clearly talking about like, reliving my whole life. I would do it all again."

"Did you just say that this is clearly about your whole life because if so, I want to be on the same drugs as you," Robin pushes off of him to move around the table and plop into the chair across from him. She tries her best to level him with a stare, but he doesn't give her the satisfaction by refusing to lift his head. The downside of being soulmates, she decides. He knows what she's going to do and when and can, therefore, avoid it. "Look, I get that he was, like, your first love and high school sweetheart but he couldn't have been that good of a fuck. It was just inexperience that made-"

"Robin!" Steve shouts over her, looking at her now so she can see his scandalized expression. Ha! She takes it back. It's an upside to being soulmates because she knows exactly what to say to rial him up. "It's not about the sex! It's about all of it. Everything. I don't- what Eddie did was shitty and it fucking hurt, but that was ten years ago. This song is about everything."

She doesn't see it that way, but even with how well she's able to read him, Steve's mind has always had its own way of thinking she can't quite nail down. With a sigh, she says, "Alright. Benefit of doubt time. Explain the song to me."

"It's not just about Eddie. It's about my whole life. You know how my parents were, how high their expectations were and how I had to hide almost everything about me while I lived with them. That's the my life was a storm since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane bit. And if I hadn't dated Eddie, like, at all. Well, I was already on the track to being an asshole in elementary school. Can you imagine who I would have been in high school if I was still that kid?

"It's also, like, if Eddie and I had stayed together... If we hadn't- I hadn't broken up with him, would I have met Dustin? Or Lucas and Max? Will or Mike, Nancy, and Jonathan? It's like, the years directly after Hey Steve were absolute dogshit, yeah, but it brought me all the people I love now," Steve looks down to the page again, either avoiding her eye contact or finding it too much. She's not sure which one. "If Eddie and I had stayed together there was only option for my future. Once the car had been fully put in my name, I'd have told Eddie to pick a city and we'd have left, for Eddie to chase his dream while I chased him. I wouldn't have gone to Chicago with you, never had the money to purchase that first place to live with you. Maybe never have discovered I loved interior design and house renovation. So, I would do it all again. It brought me my family."

She understands, now, what the lyrics really mean to him. However, she's also the one person in the whole world close enough to Steve to actually see it. "I get what you are saying. But these lyrics do not tell that story. Knowing your reasoning behind it does make me see them that way. But no one who hears that is going to know your tragic backstory."

"So, should I re-write this?"

"Depends. What is your goal with this... statement. What is the best case scenario."

Steve blinks at her. "Oh. Uh, best case, huh? I guess... I want to talk to Eddie, again. We parted on real bad terms, and I think I want closure from that?"

She narrows her eyes at him, judging. "Are you angry, like, at all?" She is. She's still furious with Eddie. His fucking song had blown Steve's life up virtually overnight. But also, she had thought they were friends, too. She hadn't realized their friendship was conditional, with that condition being he and Steve having to be in a relationship.

And, yeah, logically she knows she was Steve's friend first and it would be easy to default to believing she'd be on Steve's side but she wasn't. Not at first.

When Steve had shown up at her house, having gone straight from Eddie's to hers after he told them they were over, she'd held him through the night as he cried. But in the morning, she'd told him she needed to check on Eddie. He was her best friend, too. But Wayne told her he was gone, left last night to Chicago. Wayne had offered her a ride there with him, after he got Eddie's van running again and went to take it to him.

She said she'd think about it. Tried to reach out over all the socials, but Eddie didn't even check them, and then Hey Steve came out and there wasn't any room left in her to care about Eddie and his emotional state.

Not anymore. Not when he'd left her, too. Not when, even after Robin had made her own way to fame, he declined to meet with her. She'd tried to reach out but who was she, a new comer to the music scene and barely known, to Eddie Fucking Munson, lead guitarist to Corroded Coffin?

"I mean, sure, but like... it's been ten years. I don't- I have better things to think about than how mad I was... am? at Eddie. We were friends, first, y'know. And it's complicated. You know this," Steve says.

"Yeah, yeah," Robin waves off his words, "you're whole Eddie was a part of my life for longer than he's been gone from it thing. I'm not sure that the fifteen years of your childhood should be counted the same as this decade of adulthood."

"I get that you don't want to forgive him, and that's fine. But, forgiveness or not, I want closure."

"Okay. Keep the song as is."

"Really?"

"Yes," Robin says, a Cheshire cat grin spreading across her face. If Steve records and shares what sounds like a love song, there's almost a 100% chance that Gareth will reach out again. She knows they're expecting to see an angry and hurt Steve, but instead they'll get this? Robin's not above playing unfair. She hopes this breaks Eddie, consumes him with a guilt as deep as the original hurt felt. "I think we should let everyone think it's your sad, pathetic, pining for a decades-old-love song. It'll definitely get Gareth reaching out to me and my team again."

"Gareth's reached out?"

"It's his job. He's Corroded Coffin's PR Manager now, apparently. When Lauri told me Gareth had reached out, I asked to be included in the call. Anyway, not the point. The point is, if you want to talk to Eddie, this love song is the trick."

"It's not a love song!"

"Whatever you say, Dingus. Sing it again so I can imagine the music to go with it."

[cod-dump]

ffff- your post where Ghost says "I swear you assigned him to me like he's a service dog or something" got me thinking about support werewolf Soap. Like supernatural creatures being able to get training as support workers to help more dangerous people and other supernatural creatures that might hurt regular service animals or if they live in an environment unsuited for them.

Wolf senses for things that service dogs can detect and the human ability to help in a more complex situation, offer support with words if needed, or shift if things go really wrong (or the person just needs to pet something to calm down).

Plus, with someone like Ghost, having a hulking wolfman able to wake him up from nightmares without worrying about hurting him (even if he goes for a knife) would probably cause him less stress than a normal service animal.

Ghost didn't notice at first what was happening. Sure, he's seen others with support lycan. Hell, his insurance covers getting one assigned to him! But Ghost never looked into it. He didn't think he needed it. Then he met Soap, a very friendly werewolf. He was a new addition to 141 and Ghost had skimmed over his file to learn that he was, in fact, a certified support lycan.

He had shrugged that off and continued on. So what if he was a certified support lycan, didn't effect him any... But then Soap started hanging around him more. Started checking up on him, making sure he had eaten or drank any water that day. Ghost started to get suspicious then. But he continued on, not wanting to assume anything. Soap was just nice and Ghost knows he was just being friendly with him.

Nothing else was going on.

Ghost remembered Soap started to hang around him more after he blew up on a couple recruits a week before Christmas leave. Price had pulled him to the side, telling him he couldn't take his emotions out on clueless recruits. Ghost didn't say much during the lecture and just quietly left once Price saw that he wasn't responding to anything that he was saying. Soap decided to start following him around not long after that incident. It took a week before Ghost got annoyed by the wolf's almost constant presence and demanded to know what he was doing.

"Why the fuck are you following me around, Sergeant? Don't you have better things to do?"

Soap just smiled warmly, "Is there something more important than spending time with my friend?"

"If you're wanting to hang out as friends then stop acting like I'm a patient!"

Soap held his hands up, "Sorry, LT. Hard habit to drop, sometimes..."

Ghost glared at him and stormed off... with Soap following him. He stopped again, Soap bumping into his back. He turns and glares at the wolf who avoids eye contact while backing up.

"Did Price put you up to this?"

"Hmm? Up to what?"

"This!" Ghost waves his hand through the air between them, "This patient, emotional support bullshit!"

"Noooo..."

Ghost groans loudly, "I don't need a support lycan!"

Soap blinks, "Then what about a support animal?"

Ghost shakes his head, "No, no support anything! I don't need it!"

Ghost storms off, pissed that Price would assign him a support lycan behind his back. He barged into Price's office, finding the man on the phone. He stared at Ghost, wide eyed, as Laswell was trying to talk to him about something.

"Hold on, Kate. Simon just busted down my door."

"Oh, is that what that was?"

Ghost growls, "When the fuck did you assign Sergeant MacTavish to be my support lycan!?"

Price stares, "I didn't?"

"Bullshit!"

"He didn't do anything, Simon. I did."

Ghost gawks, staring at the phone. Laswell continued to speak calmly.

"Simon, you have gone through a lot with no support. No human, supernatural, animal- Nothing. I figured you could use someone being there for you and MacTavish just so happens to be certified. He can keep up with you and handle himself on the battlefield. He's fits the bill perfectly."

Ghost was stunned, shocked that Laswell did this. Price was also shocked and apparently didn't know about this. Ghost moved his arms around, unsure what to say.

"Oh my god-"

"You did this without talking to me about it first?"

"Do you have something against it?"

"... No-"

"Then there's nothing to talk about."

Ghost finally finds his voice, "Don't I get a say in this!?"

"Simon-"

"Kate, I don't need someone up my ass all the time! I don't need support, I am perfectly fine!"

Ghost storms out before either Laswell or Price could say anything. He headed straight to his room and locked himself in. Pissed at the world, Ghost tears off his mask and sits on his bed, groaning. He didn't need a support lycan! He doesn't need a support anything! He's fine! He's fine...

He's perfectly fine.

[fairyniceyeah]

💎🐈‍⬛Day 11: "We're out of time."

Bleeding Out/Collapse/Flatline

@juneofdoom

Part One: Day 4: "Does that hurt?"

Day 10: "Can you hear me?"

Summary: Wonwoo can’t keep a cool head as Woozi bleeds.

CW: blood, emeto, fainting

Whumpee: Wonwoo (+ Seungcheol) Caretaker: Jun + Jeonghan

Wonwoo, to his own embarrassment, had never been good with blood. The members had found out in a very embarrassing way - with Hoshi accidentally hitting DK in the face during a dance practice which had caused a nosebleed. And Wonwoo fainting at the sight of it and gaining a concussion from an unstopped fall.

Now, the sight of Jihoon, his littlest brother, pinned to the ground by a tent peg, blood gushing out in every direction and coating the producer, Seungcheol and Joshua with red - it turned Wonwoo’s stomach. He gagged violently against the hand he had clamped to his mouth just in time, feeling dizzy. 

Joshua was saying something but over the rushing in his ears, Wonwoo couldn’t hear it. 

He was glad for Jun who tugged him away by his shoulder. Helplessly he stumbled after the older member, the brutal sight branded into his mind. He was pushed down to sit on the ground further away from the tent area and he put his head between his raised knees, trying to stay in the moment. 

Jun’s hand disappeared from his shoulder and - to his horror - Wonwoo whimpered. He had never been one of the more emotional members, choosing to stand behind and be a pillar to lean on for those who needed it. It came from being a hyung, surely, but also from his own calm demeanor. He had never wanted to be coddled or taken care of or be a burden to his members. 

But now, in the middle of nothing and Jihoon bleeding out, Wonwoo for the first time in a long time couldn’t keep a cool head. He wanted to but he couldn’t. His need for reassurance, his need for comfort was bigger. 

Why had Jun left him when Wonwoo needed him? They certainly weren’t the closest but they didn’t love each other less due to that. They mostly just coexisted in a happy tango around the other members who relied on them. They were similar in that way.

Where was Jun?

Wonwoo lifted his head, nearly falling to the side as his head swam. 

He spotted the chinese member easily, despite the low light. Jun was kneeling on the ground in front of a shaking Vernon. Jeonghan was standing next to them, having wrapped Seokmin in his arms, shushing his cries. 

Right, both younger members weren’t good with injuries either. Suddenly Wonwoo was attacked by hot and cold flushes of shame. He should be able to keep himself together. The younger members were a priority over him. 

And yet, Wonwoo longed for somebody to hold him close, whisper reassurances. He had never seen a member this pained, this visibly injured, as Jihoon was. Jihoon who always hated to show vulnerability and now was at the mercy of his broken body.

That thought made his stomach churn and before he knew what was going to happen, he had to twist to the side before he was violently sick all over the ground. He coughed and sobbed through waves of unrelenting, overwhelming nausea. His throat burned from the bile and his eyes from the tears.

Hands came to rest on his shoulders and Wonwoo slumped forwards, unable to hold himself up anymore. Vertigo was turning his world while nausea made him unable to stop retching over the pile of vomit on the ground. 

“Shit, Wonwoo”, somebody called, close to his ears and he turned around, throwing himself at the person. He didn’t care that there probably was snot and vomit on his face - the other person would just have to deal. Wonwoo didn’t have the capacities for that.

The person held him tightly and then Wonwoo was dragged away - likely to avoid anybody stepping into the puddle. Once he was settled, the person gently removed themself from Wonwoo’s grip, shushing him as he whimpered when the comforting contact was broken.

“Wonwoo-yah”, Jun said softly, wiping the younger member’s mouth and nose with his sleeve. Wonwoo blinked up at him through the film of tears in his eyes and the smudges on his glasses. “I’m so sorry. I am so so sorry. I never should have left you - Vernon-ah, he - no, there is no excuse.”

“It’s fine”, Wonwoo mumbled, suddenly embarrassed. He felt awful for poor Seokmin and Jeonghan, two of their more easily grossed out members, who had to witness his dinner reappearing. And where was Vernon? Wasn’t Jun with him?

He didn’t realize he spoke out loud until Jun shushed him. “Han-hyung got Seokmin and Vernon, don’t worry. You’re not fine, you need help too.”

“I’m so sorry”, Wonwoo apologized quietly. He never had wanted to make a fuss.

“No more apologies”, Jun said determinedly, “are you ready to go back to the other three? They are worried about you.”

Though still feeling off-kilter, Wonwoo nodded. However, as soon as he was upright, his knees buckled underneath him and he collapsed back to the ground, weak like a fawn just learning to walk. Jun, there when needed as always, was quick to catch him and lower him back down.

Wonwoo was quickly becoming overwhelmed and frustrated by the situation, wanting the attention off himself. Jun seemed to understand and kept quiet while Wonwoo tried to calm himself down. He just held Wonwoo’s hand in his, a soft pressure while he waited. 

Taking deep breaths and banning any images of Jihoon bleeding on the forest floor from his mind, Wonwoo managed to gain his bearings. Jun made him sit down a bit longer than he himself thought necessary but the rapper was soon glad as his knees still trembled when he tried to stand again. 

“It’s alright, we’ll go slow”, Jun soothed and slung his arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder. It was more of a hug than support and Wonwoo was glad for it.

As soon as they reached the small area - Wonwoo now recognised it as the cooking space - where Jeonghan, Seokmin and Vernon and now Dino were waiting, Vernon ran towards them. Wonwoo opened his arms and held him close.

“Sorry for scaring you even more”, the older mumbled. 

“Don’t worry about it, hyung”, Vernon protested shakily through his tears, “you have as much a right to be scared as we do.”

That was the problem, wasn’t it? Wonwoo didn’t like to be afraid. Especially not for his members. He was about to protest, when Jeonghan, Dino and Seokmin joined their cuddle pile. They all fell to the ground together in a tangle of limbs but never letting go of one another. 

“I’m sorry. We forgot about your hemaphobia. That’s unacceptable”, Jeonghan apologized, sounding like he was beating himself up about it.  

“Hyung”, Wonwoo whispered and then, surrounded by his members as scared as he himself was, he started to sob. Vernon forced his way into Wonwoo’s lap, hugging him tightly, while Dino hung onto his back. Jun held him and Dino protectively and Jeonghan had a hand on Wonwoo’s knee, his other arm wrapped around Seokmin. 

“We’re running out of time”, Wonwoo said quietly, “aren’t we? Jihoon’s running out of time.” That was the issue with his phobia - through therapy he knew how much blood a body could stand to lose and Jihoon had been - was - losing way too much. The small glimpse he had seen of the injury was enough to know that Jihoon was closer to death than any of them ever wanted to see.

“I don’t know”, Jeonghan whispered brokenly. “I don’t know. He has to be fine.”

None of them knew what to reply to that. So they sat crying together until a frazzled S.Coups stumbled into the clearing, looking pale.

“Cheollie?”, Jeonghan asked, jumping up to gather him in his arms. 

But the leader stopped him, throwing up his hand as a barrier. His hands were covered in blood and dirt, the mixture dripping to the floor. Instantly Wonwoo felt himself fall backwards.

“Wonwoo-yah”, Jun whispered, soft hands catching him as consciousness left him.

The last thing he heard was Jeonghan frantically calling: “Cheollie? If you’re gonna puke, Wonwoo already … - okay, it’s okay.”

Wonwoo opened his eyes as helicopter blades moved the trees in his vision. He groaned at the pain pulsating in his head. Immediately, he remembered.

“Jihoon?”, he asked, eyes trailing behind the helicopter - hopefully carrying his friend to safety.

Jun, whose lap his head was pillowed on as he found out then, stroked his hair gently.

“Joshua is accompanying him to the hospital. The managers will drive us there as soon as possible. Jihoon-ah will be fine, you’ll see.”

Jihoon, indeed, was fine after a long, long surgery. Months of crutches and physiotherapy awaited him but he was fine. 

Day 12: "I can't stand seeing you like this"

Masterlist link: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's June of Doom 2024

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC's Lucien Binding Knot Date English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

She told me that a person's life is too short. In the blink of an eye, it's five years, and then another blink, it's ten years.

That's how she and her husband lived their lives, bickering and muddling through, and they ended up spending their whole lifetime together.

Looking back, the bumps in the road and trivial matters along the way don't hold much significance compared to being able to harmoniously live together for a lifetime.

Translation under the cut~

[Notes from Lux: Here's the CN video link if anyone want to follow along his Voice Acting. VERY recommended to re-read S1 chapter 9 and his Chinese Wedding SP Bound By Love/A Love Not in Vain because this date specifically references these two stories. AND perhaps Sacred Mountain Date regarding his belief in God(s)]

-

[Part 1]

Lucien: Today is Saturday. Didn't we agree not to work?

Lucien places a bowl of freshly washed blueberries on the coffee table and casually feeds me a few. I sit on the sofa, engrossed in the documents on my laptop.

MC: Kiki has sorted the photography registration form; I need to quickly finish reviewing it so that I can contact them earlier.

Recently, our company launched a charity project called "Taking Family Portraits for One Hundred Elderly People." After the announcement was made, we received dozens of registration forms in just two days.

MC: By the way, Lucien, if any professors from Loveland University are interested in this project, you can invite them as well.

MC: We've rented the best photography studio, and the photographers are top-notch, so you can rest assured about the photo quality.

Lucien: With so many people applying, I think we should try to avoid giving slots to people we know, right?

MC: Don't worry. Even though we're promoting it as a hundred people externally, we've discussed it internally and will try to accommodate as many as possible.

MC: We're willing to help strangers, let alone the people we know.

Lucien: In that case... I do have an idea.

Lucien points to the peace knot hanging on my wall- a knot that Grandma Wen taught me to weave, and it still hangs on one side of Lucien's bookshelf.

MC: Are you talking about Grandma Wen?

Grandma Wen is an elderly person who lives alone. Lucien and I have a close relationship with her. We've learned how to weave knots from her and even borrowed wedding attire. So, we visit her whenever we have free time.

She is also very hospitable to us, always arranging snacks for us to enjoy. She also advises us young people not to focus only on work but to remember to take care of ourselves.

MC: Actually, I did consider inviting her at first, but Grandma Wen's husband has already passed away, and having her take a family portrait alone might be a bit…

Lucien: Are you worried that it might make her uncomfortable?

Seeing me nod, Lucien leans back on the sofa, tilts his head, and smiles slightly.

Lucien: [chuckles] I think she won't mind at all.

Lucien: How about we ask her? One never knows.

After a lengthy discussion, we decided to call Grandma Wen. I carefully choose my words and extend the invitation, but Grandma Wen laughs heartily and readily accepts.

We finalize the shooting schedule. Lucien and I will pick her up together when the time comes.

However, Grandma Wen suggests she'd like to bring her cat, Baby, along for the photoshoot.

-

[Part 2]

On the agreed-upon morning, we arrive punctually at Grandma Wen's doorstep. While Lucien parks the car, I take the initiative to go and knock on the door.

The black-and-white spotted little cat lies under the eaves, rolling around playfully and occasionally pawing at something in the air, looking quite content.

MC: Baby~ Come here kitty for a hug~

But the little kitty pays no attention to me, completely engrossed in rolling on the ground. It rolls several times and ends up a meter away from me.

Lucien: (gently calls the kitty) Baby, come here.

Just as Lucien approaches, Baby suddenly gets up, takes two steps, and runs to Lucien's feet. It raises its paw and paw at the cuff of Lucien's pants, meowing incessantly.

MC: That's quite a contrast in treatment!

MC: Although I've played with it plenty of times before, it still prefers you. That's unfair!

Lucien lowers his gaze and sighs at the cat.

Lucien: [chuckles] You see, I didn't do anything, but she's angry just because you like me more.

Lucien: If you could talk, I'm sure you'd also think this is even more unfair to me, right?

Lucien crouches down and strokes the cat's head, using his fingers to rub its cheek gently.

Lucien: Please remember to be a little more coquettish with her later. Otherwise, I'll be in a tough spot.

MC: ...Hmph, you're not in a tough spot at all!

Lucien can't resist laughing and takes out a sealed bag of cat treats from his pocket, feeding them to Baby.

Lucien: Baby is actually relatively easy to please. Just give it some treats a few more times, and it will be circling around you.

Grandma Wen: MC, you're here…

I turn around and see that Grandma Wen is already standing at the door.

MC: Grandma! You look so beautiful today!

Grandma Wen is wearing a short jacket with a standing collar and a diagonal button today. It's evident at a glance that the craftsmanship is exquisite.

The satin fabric is smooth and lustrous, while the embroidery is lifelike with intricate stitching.

Grandma Wen sheepishly waves her hand.

Grandma Wen: These are old clothes I haven't worn in seven or eight years. It's rare that I've taken them out.

MC: Old clothes? I can't tell. They look just like new…

MC: Is the embroidery on the hem here the Lotus Pond? Each lotus is transitioned with several colors... It's really beautiful!

MC: Did you embroider this yourself, Grandma?

Grandma Wen touches the hem, smoothing the embroidered threads of the lotus leaves.

Grandma Wen: My husband made this for me when he was still alive.

Grandma Wen: From pattern drafting to embroidery, he did every step himself, insisting that his craftsmanship was better than mine.

Grandma Wen: These embroideries used to be even more beautiful, but unfortunately, the thread colors have faded over time.

MC: I can't tell that the thread colors have faded. I think it looks incredibly beautiful.

MC: Your complexion looks great today. When it's time for the photo shoot, we'll have a hairstylist do your hair. We must create a hairstyle that compliments this dress perfectly.

Lucien walks over carrying a cat carrier and lets Grandma Wen check Baby's condition.

Lucien: I used some cat treats to coax it into the carrier, and it didn't make any fuss and was very well-behaved.

Grandma Wen: Baby~ Baby, today we're going out for a photoshoot. After we get in the car, you must be good and not cause any trouble for your brothers and sisters, okay?

Grandma Wen claps her hands toward the cat inside the carrier, and Baby starts to scratch the carrier, about to meow. But Lucien offers a cat treat, and it immediately quiets down.

I give Lucien a thumbs up - only he can do it.

Lucien: How about you sit in the back with Grandma Wen later? If Baby wants to come out, you can feed it some cat treats.

MC: Mm, no problem~

Grandma Wen: Is it time to leave? Let me grab a few things.

Grandma Wen goes back inside and returns with a Chángshān covered in a dustproof cover. I have a vague idea of who the owner of this robe might be.

Grandma Wen: I made this Chángshān for my husband when I was young. It was his favorite outfit. I'll bring it along for the photoshoot. So, it's as if he's also accompanying me.

Lucien takes a half step forward, probably thinking that the gown in the bag is not light and wanting to help Grandma Wen get it into the car. However, when he catches my gaze, he takes a step back.

Lucien: Let's get in the car, Grandma.

Lucien opens both car doors, assists Grandma Wen into the car, helps her fasten the seatbelt, and then checks that the cat carrier on my lap is secure before closing the car doors.

-

[Part 3]

After arriving at the photography studio, the makeup artist has to apply makeup and do the hair for Grandma Wen.

I'm worried that Grandma Wen might hesitate to communicate her needs with the makeup artist, so I am constantly accompanying her, talking to her, and helping her with her makeup.

Lucien is responsible for taking care of Baby, who starts running around as soon as they enter the photography studio.

Grandma Wen: When we first found Baby in the wild, it was only as big as the palm of a human hand. I made a nest for it with a towel, and it slept under the dining table.

Grandma Wen: In the blink of an eye, it has grown so big.

Grandma Wen: When it was little, it wasn't this mischievous. It used to lie in the corner every day obediently and didn't let anyone approach. As soon as someone got close, it would run away.

Grandma Wen: Now, it plays with birds, teases dogs, and does all sorts of daring things. There's nothing it's afraid to do.

Grandma Wen gently squeezes my hand and says.

Grandma Wen: You should go outside and take a look. It's not easy for Professor Lucien to keep an eye on Baby all by himself. There are machines everywhere here. Don't let that smelly cat cause any trouble for you.

I nod and walk out of the makeup room.

In the living room of the photography studio, there is a bright lounge area. Lucien is holding a cat teaser toy, playing with Baby as it pounces back and forth on the sofa.

MC: You even brought a cat teaser wand?

Lucien: Not just that, I also have a cat jingle bell ball and a laser pointer in the trunk.

Lucien: I consulted my colleagues who have pets, and they said that if you want your pets to behave well for photos, you need to let them play for a good hour beforehand.

Lucien: Once they get tired from playing, they can cooperate more.

I walk over and sit down on the sofa, gently petting Baby's head. It doesn't resist and tilts its head up, allowing me to scratch its chin.

Lucien finds a moment to rest and casually picks up a book from the bookshelf, leaning back on the sofa.

MC: (smiles) It seems like this method is working. It's already behaving quite well now.

Lucien: It's probably just temporarily tired from playing. After a short rest, it will be jumping around again.

Lucien: After all, it's the most mischievous kitten I've ever seen.

Lucien gently taps the top of the Baby's head, and the kitten raises its front paw, quickly grabbing his finger.

Lucien: It climbs trees, catches birds, and even fights with stray cats... When it's full of energy, there's no stopping it.

I recall not too long ago when Baby went missing again. When we found it, it was in the middle of a fight with a stray cat outside, and its face was scratched up.

We were afraid that Grandma Wen would worry if she saw its condition, so we didn't return it directly. Instead, we told her that we were taking it to the hospital for a check-up and would bring it back once it recovered.

MC: (smiles softly) Do you remember what you said the last time we took Baby to the hospital?

Lucien: Hm?

MC: You said that despite its many escapades, Grandma Wen never considered keeping it indoors and always let it go out to play.

Lucien: I remember, if it were up to me, I wouldn't let this little cat run wild everywhere.

I pick up the cat teaser toy and start playing with the little cat, swinging it on and off.

MC: As soon as we mentioned taking a family photo, Grandma Wen immediately thought of bringing the cat along.

MC: It's clear that in Grandma Wen's heart, it's her most important family member.

MC: That's how it is among family members. No matter how worried or concerned we are, we still want the other person to be happy and do what they want to do.

Lucien: ….Our Great Producer has something to say and found a good way to start the conversation.

Noticing that I had a hidden agenda, Lucien had already guessed what it was.

Lucien: Grandma Wen already told you, didn't she?

MC: Right before the makeup session, Grandma Wen pulled me aside in a corner to talk.

MC: She said that you've been to the Matchmaker's Temple alone several times before and also visited her along the way.

I sigh meaningfully.

MC: Professor Lucien, have you encountered a problem that materialism* can't solve?

-

[T/N: Materialism in this context is more of a philosophical belief that only physical matter exists and that everything can be explained through the physical world and natural laws.]

-

Lucien leans back leisurely on the sofa, wearing only a light smile.

Baby rolls over under his palm, purring contentedly.

Lucien: Gods don't solve problems. I'm a researcher, and I still have to uphold certain principles.

Lucien: But when it comes to matters of the heart, it's just too complicated... variables abound, and there's no optimal solution.

Lucien: So, I often wonder if a certain little fool occasionally worries about me or gets angry for me. Is it because I haven't done well enough?

He lifts the corner of his eyebrows, seeming not to be troubled by this matter, just candidly sharing his feelings.

The unbridled sunlight streams through the curtains, illuminating the tenderness in his eyes with exceptional clarity.

Lucien: Questions without answers are better left to metaphysics.

Lucien: Even if the problem doesn't get solved, you can still find some comfort in it to some extent.

As Lucien speaks, he no longer plays with Baby. The cat feels neglected and keeps nudging Lucien's palm with its head.

I stroke its fluffy head and realize that it's been a very long time since the first time I saw this cat with Lucien in the wheat field.

Some things probably don't have answers in either science or metaphysics; the experiences of life are what will eventually reveal the truth.

MC: Lucien, do you know what Grandma Wen just said to me?

Lucien: Tell me.

MC: She told me that a person's life is too short. In the blink of an eye, it's five years, and then another blink, it's ten years.

MC: That's how she and her husband lived their lives, bickering and muddling through, and they ended up spending their whole lifetime together.

MC: Looking back, the bumps in the road and trivial matters along the way don't hold much significance compared to being able to harmoniously live together for a lifetime.

Lucien straightens up, seeing that there's no one around, and then suddenly leans down to place a kiss on my forehead.

The warm sunshine reflects in his eyes as he looks at me. He smiles a little and casually picks up the kitty, holding it in his arms as if nothing happened.

Lucien: Grandma Wen is right.

-

[Part 4]

After the lighting technician adjusts the lighting, Lucien and I stand in the corner of the photography studio.

Grandma Wen sits on the mahogany bench, spreading her husband's Chángshān flat across her lap. The photographer holds Baby and places it on the Chángshān.

The naturally mischievous cat is being incredibly well-behaved at this moment. No matter how the photographer handles it, it's willing to cooperate and even knows how to look at the camera.

Photographer: Grandma, please reach out your hand and gently touch the cat's head—yes, that's right, just a natural touch will do.

Photographer: This cat is so well-behaved, cooperative and calm.

Grandma Wen: Good Baby, I'll make you some fish to eat when we get back tonight.

Photographer: Grandma, let's maintain this pose and take two more shots.

Lucien gazes at the scene before him, momentarily lost in thought.

Lucien: From the first time we entered her house, I noticed that there were no photos of her and her husband displayed in her home.

Lucien: Upon careful inquiry, I discovered that they had indeed never taken any photos together.

Lucien: ...Two people spending a lifetime together is something worth commemorating. They should have had a photo together.

After he says that, he turns his head slightly and whispers in my ear.

Lucien: Thanks to the producer's help, at least Grandma Wen has a family portrait now, regardless of the circumstances.

For a moment, I'm unsure of what to say.

He's truly humble for someone who has doubted his understanding of love.

—--------------------------------------------------------

After the shoot, Lucien and I accompanied Grandma Wen back the same way we came.

Grandma Wen: Stay for dinner. You two don't be so polite…

Grandma Wen: I feel bad that both of you have been busy all day. Having a meal together is no big deal, just a few extra pairs of chopsticks.

We don't want her to have to deal with cooking after a long day of photoshoots, so we politely decline.

Lucien: Grandma, it's still early. MC and I plan to visit the Matchmaker Temple, so we won't stay.

Lucien: You've had a long day today. Remember to rest well.

MC: Yes, Grandma. After the photos are developed, I'll bring them to you right away. We'll have the meal you promised then.

Grandma Wen didn't insist on keeping us any longer, but she promised that the next time we visit, we must stay for a meal. We quickly nodded in agreement.

—--------------------------------------------------------

On the way to the Matchmaker Temple, the sun gradually sets, casting a beautiful array of evening colors between the trees and stone steps. It's hard for anyone walking through this scenery not to feel relaxed.

MC: It's quite rare for this place to be this peaceful.

Lucien: Festivals have yet to happen recently, so there are very few tourists. The Matchmaker God can take a break too.

MC: With no incense burning at the Matchmaker Temple, does it mean that everyone hasn't been facing relationship difficulties? It seems like a good thing, doesn't it?

Lucien: (shushes and whispers) Shhh... with a troubling view like that, you might upset the Matchmaker God. Be careful not to displease him.

I can't help but laugh at his teasing, and I also find his words reasonable. I quickly pull Lucien to pay respects to the Matchmaker and offer incense.

I hope that the Matchmaker is understanding and doesn't take my words to heart.

After offering incense and making a donation, Lucien and I found a couple of chairs inside the temple and sat down. We plan to watch the sunset for a while and leave when the temple closes.

The faint scent of sandalwood here blends with the natural aroma of the forest, creating a tranquil and enduring atmosphere that instantly soothes the heart. I lean closer to Lucien and ask softly.

MC: Lucien, what wishes did you make when you came here alone before? Have any of them come true?

Lucien bends slightly, brushing away a cluster of dandelion seeds that accidentally caught onto his shirt cuff. He then leisurely curves his lips into a smile.

Lucien: I don't even remember the specific wishes I made anymore.

Lucien: They were probably just about small things, like planning to meet up but then having something come up at the research institute, causing me to break the appointment.

Lucien: Another example is when I promise to sleep well, but then accidentally stay up for a few nights and get caught by you.

Lucien: (laughs softly)....

Lucien: Now that I think about it, they were indeed all trivial matters, and you've always been very understanding.

Lucien lifts his gaze, meeting my eyes.

Lucien: Although we quickly forget these minor disagreements.

Lucien: But occasionally, I do pay attention to these little disagreements that fill our lives. After all, even the smallest things have their own meaning.

I can't help but let my lips curl up slowly, and Lucien lifts his chin, revealing a somewhat helpless expression.

Lucien: It's evident that the Great Producer is very pleased with my introspection.

MC: …..Pfft, not exactly 'very'.

MC: I'm just marveling at how Professor Lucien sets such astonishingly high standards for himself.

MC: It seems like I don't reflect on my actions much when I make you angry... But from today on, I'll try to change that.

Lucien: [chuckles] It's okay.

Lucien changes the topic, and a smile spreads in his eyes.

Lucien: Now that I think about it, these little bumps and trivial matters aren't really that important.

He takes a knot from his pocket and hands it to me. The way the knot is tied resembles the peace knot that Grandma Wen had taught me before, but the weaving method seems more intricate.

Lucien: This is a knot that Grandma Wen taught me to weave as a special thank you for us.

Lucien: She also said that the name of this knot is yí shì yíjiā (宜室宜家).

Lucien: Today, it seems like I have a clearer understanding of the meaning of this word.

-

[T/N: 宜室宜家 is a Chinese idiom that means "live harmoniously; make a harmonious and orderly home." It is often used as a congratulatory message on a wedding. The idiom comes from a line in the poem "Tao Yao" in the Book of Songs, which reads, "之子于归，宜其室家" (the son is returning home, where he should live harmoniously with his wife and make a harmonious and orderly home). And it fits with the date theme of living harmoniously together for a lifetime despite all the small bumps🥺.]

-

Suddenly, my heart feels soft, and I take a small step closer to Lucien's shoulder. I pick up my phone and open the front camera.

I put both of us in the frame.

The setting sun casts a gentle glow behind us, and the breeze is light, creating a tranquil and beautiful atmosphere.

MC: The sunset today looks beautiful. Let's take a photo together.

MC: 3, 2, 1–

My trailing voice fades away in the warm breath as Lucien lowers his head and kisses me.

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

[Bonus Call - "Family Portrait"]

Lucien: Hello, it's me. I have some good news to tell you.

MC: What is it?

Lucien: Didn't you put Grandma Wen's family portrait photo on the company's public social media account?

MC: Um... Grandma Wen said it was okay, so I posted it. What's the matter?

Lucien: A professor from the university recognized Grandma Wen's clothes and said he had seen the person in the photo before, right at the West Moon Street intersection.

Lucien: This professor was a photography enthusiast when he was younger, and at the time, he noticed Grandma Wen's well-dressed appearance and couldn't resist taking a photo.

Lucien: Later on, he always wanted to give the photo to Grandma Wen, but he went to West Moon Street a few times and never encountered them again.

MC: "Them?"

Lucien: Mm, that's the good news I wanted to share. The photo the professor took is a picture of Grandma Wen and her husband.

MC: That's quite a coincidence!

Lucien: There's an even greater coincidence.

Lucien: I just got my hands on this photo, and in it, Grandma Wen is holding a tiny kitten the size of her palm.

MC: Is it Baby?

Lucien: Judging by its patterns, it seems so.

Lucien: Although the photo is quite old, I've contacted a professional photo restoration expert, and if all goes well, it should be restored within about a week.

MC: So, we can bring this photo to Grandma Wen next weekend?

Lucien: Exactly. They're real family portraits, and I hope it can truly make up for her regrets.

MC: ...It's really amazing, it feels like there's something guiding us in all of this.

Lucien: Who knows, maybe it really is.

Lucien: Let's go together to get the photo restored later. I know you're eager to see it as soon as possible.

MC: Um—I'll finish up what I'm doing, and then I'll come find you right away!

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

[Lux's Short Rambles]

I didn't expect this date to be this good huhu. It's far better than last pet date where it feels like a plot that got way longer than it should 😂. It's also nice to see old NPCs getting mentioned again. The story of Grandma Wen with her husband is touching.

The theme of spending a lifetime together, despite how short life is, never fails got my heart clenched. And I love how this date highlights what a sensitive person Lucien is (in a good way, well, most of the time). He doesn't mind her getting angry at him because he knows that she does it because she cares about him. But he also genuinely fears that she might not be happy; so he goes to the Matchmaker's Temple alone and cares about these small conflicts, believing that they also have meaning :". But in the end, such trivial things and bumps on the road don't matter compared to being able to live their whole lives together, so rather than getting caught up in minor conflicts or trivial matters along the way it's better to priotize living together harmoniously for a lifetime.

He also noticed the smallest things, like how Grandma Wen and her husband never had their photo taken together since the very first time he and MC met Grandma Wen back in S1 Chapter 9. To quote MC, for someone who claimed he doesn't understand what love is, he's truly humble; perhaps back then, he already understands what love is in his heart by loving MC.

[autoartist]

Reaper x Geno Short Story

Prompt: Confessions when one character thinks the other is sleeping.

Reaper had fallen asleep. Geno didn’t mind. He supposed it was exhausting, having to chase after the dead through the multiverse. And for the first time, probably ever, he could rest his head against someone’s chest, and just relax. Geno figured if this was the first time he’d ever felt such contact, he’d probably fall asleep too. 

The thought crossed his mind as he looked down at Reaper’s face, just how peaceful he looked the way he was… coupled by the blush that he felt form on his face. Geno sighed, looking away. It was silly. How could someone like him ever feel for anyone, let alone the Reaper? It was almost ironic, really, falling for death - with how much he walked on the edge of it. How he avoided it. 

Well, it didn’t have to be. Geno could just live with it. Nothing had to happen just because they liked cuddling, or holding hands, or spending every moment they could with each other. Geno just liked to keep him company. That was all. 

But he supposed it couldn’t hurt to at least get it off his chest, right? Reaper was sleeping, and… well, it was probably what Toriel would say, or the human, so…. but seeing as he wasn’t comfortable telling it to someone else… 

Geno softly stroked the top of Reaper’s skull as he let out another breath. “Hey. Can I tell you something?” he began, as if the other was listening, as if he could hear him right now… but the confidence came from knowing he couldn’t. Because Geno would never admit it to him, not really. 

“I like you. I mean… a lot,” Geno said, chuckling softly. “It’s silly, right? But… being here with you, like this… it makes me so happy. I could spend my whole life like this, right? Which… I suppose is forever.” Unless the Reaper is somehow able to have kids… he thought, but quickly pushed that away - that wasn’t a thought he really needed to have. 

“Like this, with you… making you feel happy, or… loved. I mean, you deserve it. I wouldn’t say I do, but you seem to think so… and it makes me happy, too.” Geno smiled, before looking back down at Reaper. “It’s nice, real-” 

Geno froze, seeing the expression on the others face - his eyes were open, and he was staring up at him with the soft blue blush that covered his cheekbones. 

He felt his soul instantly begin to race, his entire face burning with the soft color, as he turned to the side and covered his face with one hand. The hand on his skull slowed its movement, eventually coming to a stop in the silence. 

Reaper grinned softly, moving to sit up to give Geno some space. “...so, you like me, huh?” 

“It’s-” Geno began, flustered, turning to look at him. “It’s not what you think, I-” 

Reaper placed a finger to Geno’s mouth, silencing him, as he tilted his head softly. “I think it is. It’s okay, I like you too.” 

Geno’s eyes widened, as he blinked a couple of times, taking a gentle hold of Reaper’s hand and moving it out of the way. “You- you like me?” 

“That’s… what I just said, isn’t it?” Reaper said, chuckling softly. Geno looked down a little shyly. 

“I guess… I don’t know. It’s silly, right?” he said, before slowly looking back into the other eyes, feeling his soul skip a beat. 

Reaper shook his head, sliding his other hand gently over Geno’s face and under his chin. “I don’t think so,” he admitted, leaning in, “do you?” 

Geno felt himself unable to look away from the others eyes. “I… I guess not,” he said softly, subconsciously leaning in. Reaper took the initiative, pressing their teeth together with a soft bonk, sliding a hand softly up his cheekbone, gently tilting his head towards his. Geno sighed softly, moving his arms around Reaper’s shoulders and pulling him in, wanting to just stay like this for just a little longer. 

Once they pulled apart, Geno rested his head on Reaper’s shoulder, before tilting to look up at him. “You… you were never sleeping at all, were you?” 

Reaper chuckled softly and shook his head. “No. I tried to tell you, but how could I interrupt something as lovely as your voice?”

Geno hummed in embarrassment and buried his face back in Reaper’s cloak, feeling the others hand rest on his back and rub it gently. Oh, well, what was… what was done, was done, and… as a small smile formed on his face, Geno couldn’t say he hated it. Far from it, as he wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. This was how he was going to stay. 

Forever, and ever.

[frienderbee]

I've always had the idea that jonatello wouldn't immediately tell the family about them, mostly due to Donnies fear of their reaction, partially cause Casey kind of likes sneaking around. Now imagine Donnie didn't come back at the end of The Power Inside Her.

Everyone's mourning, struggling to even process it. Everyone's mourning but no one knows how much Casey loved him. No one knows how badly he wanted to scream until his throat was raw, how he didn't even know what he'd do anymore.

Raph pushes him away, tells him he wouldn't get it. No one thinks to check on him cause they were never that close, cause they're all so caught up in their own grief to notice and Casey can't even blame them.

April knew, but she can't even look at him. She can't look at anyone because she blames herself and she just lost her best friend to her own hand.

Leo and Mikey don't pay him any attention, Splinter focuses on his sons. The whole family is falling apart and they're all trying to hold eachother up. Mikey tries to keep the others positive, filling in gaps of silence with memories of Donnie. Leo tries to stay strong, to not feel like a failure or focus on his own feelings cause his brothers need him. Raph is angry, he wants someone to blame- someone to yell at. Za-Narons dead and as much as he wants to point his finger at April he can't cause she clearly already blames herself. A part of him is mad at Donnie, for being so stupid to get himself killed.

April doesn't talk, not to any of them, but she doesn't leave the lair either. She haunts the lab, leaving everytime someone else enters but returning the moment they've left. She refuses to make eye contact, fearing what she'd see. Unable to look the damage she caused in the face.

No one expected Casey to grieve. So he didn't. Not in front of them at least. They needed someone to keep their family from falling to pieces, someone who could be there for them. Someone they didn't have to worry about.

So he held it together; helping Mikeys attempts at lifting the atmosphere by laughing as loudly as always each time he told a story; offering to spar Raph to give him a chance to vent his frustrations enough to truly feel the grief he was avoiding; giving Leo a break from being the strong one and letting him cry on his shoulder when they were alone.

April was more difficult but he persisted, bringing her food and keeping in contact with her Dad as she never came home anymore. She didn't want his help like the others, she could see through his mask into the poorly hidden grief. But she was in no state to help him.

And if he went to bed each night, holding the tattered bandana that had floated down the night Donnie died. No one noticed. If he cried so hard he couldn't blink properly in the mornings, the family didn't have the energy to question it.

Eventually he'll break and everything will come crashing down on him. It will finally hit him that this isn't just a bad dream and it isn't just the turtles that were effected by if.

But for now, he'll be there for them and hopefully he'll be able to hold off till they're stable enough to help him in return.

[nessie-writes]

My Only Wish - Newt x Reader

a/n: This was made for a friend who adores newt way to much.

Warnings: Angst, Death, Suggestive Su!c!de.

You looked over towards the love of you life. You remembered the way his eyes always lit up like the stars once they met yours. Now that was something of the past, his eyes overtaken by pure fear and disappointment in himself.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

He sighed pulling his sleeve back down to his wrist. As much as you wanted to comfort him, you couldn't. He was going to die. And there's nothing you could do. Struggling to keep eye contact, you looked down to your feet. How much you wanted to scream. How much you wanted to swap positions with him. It had been so hard, everything had been hard. From the moment you woke up in the box, to this moment of pain and despair. No matter how much it hurt, he always comforted you. Either rubbing his thumb across your shaken hands or pulling your body into a warm hug. Yet when he needed you most, you froze. Looking away. Feeling so sorry for yourself. You blinked.

Back in your bed. Your breath had quickened, barely being able to catch it back. Trying to ignore all the horrendous images of your dead lover you counted to three as you inhaled followed by another three second exhale. Walking over to your mirror, you stared at the reflection. Was this really you? Did you deserve to be here more than him? As you lent back in annoyance, you felt the light metal tap against your chest. You forgot you were still wearing this. You put your hand over the tiny capsule, holding it as hard as you could. Hoping maybe if you had it secured enough, you'd wake up with Newt smiling by your side. You remembered the multiple times in the Maze when you would spend the night together, but not how you wish you did. Every time you looked over to his peaceful sleeping figure, it would get replaced with his dead one. Every thought and memory, ruined, infected by the scent of death.

As you fell back into your bed, you hear the voices of screaming. Though your tears and screams so much unbearably louder than the others. You closed your eyes to try to prevent your tears from over spilling. The begging and apologies falling from Newts mouth became clear as did your replies.

"Newt. It's okay, it's not your fault. "

You choked on every word, seeing blood spill from his mouth. You looked at Thomas who was getting pinned down by him, hoping he could do something. Maybe he could make Newt come back straight away, in the moment. Snapping back to reality, you opened your eyes. Nowhere was safe for you. All of your senses cursed with guilt. Why didn't you save him?

Your thoughts refused to stop thinking causing another memory to flood your brain. You smiled looking at Newt who was covered in sweat.

"Would you like any help?"

Your laughter blessed his ears as he considered your help before quickly refusing it. Another memory overtook this, you looked down to his arm. A repeated memory.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

This moment changed your life. The moment a sigh fell from his mouth you knew you had to tell him, otherwise he'd never know. He was going to die. You wanted to speak but nothing left your mouth. You couldn't comfort him, let alone tell him your feelings.

A while later the two of you were left alone once again, his face purposely avoiding yours. You hadn't spoken since he told you.

"Newt. I'm sorry. I just...I just can't lose you as well."

Tears threatened to fall down your cheeks. Newt turned to face you, he couldn't handle the sight of your face being destroyed by fear. The boy lifted your head ever so slightly, wiping away your tears. As of right now, he had no words to share. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you. Even he knew that would be harsh, to tell someone you love them, and then leave them. He wasn't stupid. He knew his chance of survival were ridiculous.

"I mean, how do I say goodbye to someone who's been with me through hell. You where there when I needed you most, so I'll be here for you."

You threw your head back, looking up to the sky, hoping it would stop the tears.

"I can't keep living like this. We can't keep living like this. We've lost so much. Why must we lose more? Let alone ourselfs."

Guilt swarmed Newts head, your pain was all his fault. He was unsure whether to comfort you or allow you to spill your thoughts. He pulled you into a hug whispering into your ear.

"It's okay, I love you so much. Don't let what happens to me change you. I want you to be happy. That's My Only Wish."

You were back into the present time. Water filled your eyes before spilling down your cheeks, you wished you could have lived how he wanted you to but you couldn't. You couldn't handle these feelings anymore. Let alone dealing with them alone. The longer you're sat here alone, the more you break Newts only wish. You wanted to see the way his face creased when he smiled, the way his eyes sparkled in front of the fire, and most of all you wanted to hear the sound of his voice telling you he loved you. You knew there was only one way to have even have the slightest chance to stop this suffering. And it was to end it all.