#i hope i made sense i am. quite sick at the moment.

[boxfullaturtles]

For the commentary meme! I ignored word counts so long ask is long

It was hard to pick for Adagio in Green but I went with the following bit. But everything about this section of the fic gets me, including the fight immediately afterward and then Casey trying to help Donnie with the security upgrades.

"“He got up yesterday,” Donnie grunted in a hoarse voice. He was laying on his plastron on the cot, his blanket pulled all the way over his head. The only part of him that was visible was his snout, peeking out from the edge of the blanket and sunk into his own pillow. He had despised the bath, grumbling and hissing the entire time, flinching when the sponge had dabbed at the raw wounds on his tender shell.

“What!? Leo got up!? When!?” Raph had been laying on his front too, but at Donnie’s words he pushed himself partially upright, bracing himself on his good arm. His tail thumped the mattress, making the communicator bounce.

“When I was sick,” Donnie mumbled, nose wrinkling in distaste at the memory, “Throwin’ up yesterday. Lee helped.”

Casey had been shrinking back in on himself, drawing his knees up to his chest, a look of wariness and hurt on his face. He was staring at the med bay floor, picking at the fibers of his borrowed jeans. Raph noticed the lack of enthusiasm and cocked his head,

“CJ? What’s wrong? Thought you’d be happy to hear that Leo woke up.”

“I…” Casey shuffled nervously, chewing on his lip and looking anywhere but at the turtles, “It wasn’t...Leo.” Donnie stilled underneath his blanket and Casey’s breath caught, “It was me. I...you were...I tried to tell you I wasn’t Leo, but I don’t think you heard me. You were really out of it...”

A chill settled over the med bay, something bitter and fragile that twisted the shadows and made the spaces between all of them feel cavernous. Raph’s shoulders slumped and he sagged back down onto the mattress, tucking his chin into his pillow and wrapping his arms around it. Donnie hadn’t moved since Casey’s revelation, as if he were still processing it.

“Donatello, I’m s—” Casey began.

Donnie disappeared completely underneath the blanket. Casey made a hurt noise in his throat and clenched his jaw, ducking his head so that his dark hair fell into his face."

---

We Were Made to Suffer and to Love kills me every time I think about it. This isn't quite the money shot of the boys getting retro/double-mutated but I love this section for all the Draxum dad feels (he calls them his sons!).

"Raph whimpered in his cage and tugged at the cuffs hopelessly. He caught Draxum’s eye and Draxum saw fear there. Raphael was so young. They were both so young. They were children, babies compared to his centuries of living.

“Don’t—don’t do it!” Donnie gasped, trying to wear a brave face despite the way he was shaking, “She could destroy everything!”

Halima scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Please, I don’t care about the humans. I’m quite happy right where I am, thank you. All I want is to secure my place among the houses of the Hidden City.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head as she stared Draxum down, “So, Draxum. What will it be?”

Draxum had always intended to give her what she wanted. They both knew it.

Like Splinter before him, Draxum would let the world burn if it meant keeping the boys safe.

“I will give you the formula,” He said in a low voice, a thundercloud of resignation and rage and resolution all at one, “And you will not harm my sons.”

“No one will lay a finger on them,” Halima pressed a hand to her chest, her expression solemn and serious.

“And you will free them.”

“They will be released once things are finished.”

A part of Draxum, the part that had dealt with centuries of yokai paperwork and contracts and promises, clawed at him to get it all in writing. To make Halima keep her word with ink and paper and blood. But they didn’t have time for that and the anxious desire to get Raph and Donnie away was a roaring river that washed everything else from its path.

“Very well,” Draxum drew himself up, back straight, posture proud despite the circumstance, “The mutagenic formula is yours.”"

---

And then how about this section of Worth it for the Laughter because I really like it (especially Leo calling Draxum "evil dad" and Donnie telling Draxum not to call Leo stupid)

"

“You!” Leo’s attention snapped to Draxum, his eyes wide as he fumbled to shove Donnie off of him and point dramatically. His entire arm swayed around in the air, his accusatory finger drawing squiggly figure eights, “D-Don! He—the guy—it’s him! Why’s he here!?” Leo slapped his blankets, making an agitated noise, “Donniiiiieeeee! Donnie you gotta get out of here! It’s Dad! Evil Dad! Evil Dad is in here!”

Silence.

April, Donatello, and Draxum all stared at Leo with wide eyes and open mouths. Leo was breathing heavily, staring hard at Draxum, but when no one responded to him, he glanced at his siblings, brow furrowing,

“Guys? Hey...heeeeyyy…”

“You…” Draxum’s expression was difficult to discern, a crease between his brows, something like confusion tangled up with concern and something softer, something warmer, “You...you called me…’Dad’?”

Leo stared.

Donnie stared.

April stared.

And then Leo started crying. Again.

“I called Barry my ddaaaaaaddddd,” He wailed, flopping backwards on the bed, sprawling there like he’d been tossed aside, tears running down his face all over again, “He’s my dad toooooo! Don’t tell Pops, guys, you can’t Pops I called Dad my daaaaddddyyy!”

Donnie slapped a hand to his own face with a groan of exasperation, “If it’s not one thing he finds to cry about, it’s another…”

“Aawww, Leo, do you think of Barry as part of the family?” April cooed over the crying turtle, smiling in good humor as she rubbed Leo’s shoulder and tried to get him to calm down, “That’s really sweet of you. You should tell Mikey, he’ll be over the moon!”

Leo sniffled, almost poking himself in the eye as he scrubbed at the tears on his face, “M-Mikey? Is on the moon?”

“No, that’s not what I...ya know what, nevermind. Lemme tell you about this school project I’m working on.” April nudged Leo over on the bed and climbed up next to him, sitting shoulder to shoulder with the slider as she pulled out her phone to show him pictures. Leo appeared to be listening, but it was hard to tell when his gaze slid out of focus and drifted to random parts of the room before snapping back to April again. His head was slowly starting to dip towards resting on April’s shoulder, his lids getting heavy as drowsiness began to set in. But April didn’t seem to mind being used as Leo’s impromptu pillow, looping an affectionate arm around Leo’s shoulders and tucking him close to her side.

“What happened to him?” Draxum asked in a low voice, moving to stand beside Donnie’s chair as he watched the usually animated Leo slouch further into April and the nest of pillows, eyes falling completely closed.

Donnie was digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, fighting off the urge to take another nap. He squinted up at Draxum with a huff, “I thought April told you; Nardo had to get his wisdom teeth removed. He’s just recovering from the surgery right now, high on the painkillers I gave him. It’s stronger and a little different from the usual stuff we use, but this was a major operation with a longer recovery time so I had to use them.”

Draxum gave Donnie a look of confused disgust with a light dusting of horror, “You removed a portion of his wisdom? His mind!? This one is already so stupid—OW!”

“Don’t call him stupid,” Donatello said coolly, as if he hadn’t just kicked Draxum in the shin hard enough to leave a smarting bruise,"

Donnie disappeared completely underneath the blanket. Casey made a hurt noise in his throat and clenched his jaw, ducking his head so that his dark hair fell into his face.

This is one of the scenes in Adagio I really wanted to work in to try and show just how much Donnie is struggling. He desperately wants things to go back to normal so he can compartmentalize and just forget about everything. He doesn’t like being stuck in bed, he doesn’t like feeling weak, and most of all he doesn’t like feeling useless. So Donnie found a little comfort in the idea that Leo woke up and was moving around.

Only for Casey to kind of turn around and yank it away from him. Casey’s too honest to let Donnie keep believing that Leo was awake. And Donnie’s mad about it! His frustrations and struggles have an outlet and it’s to attack poor Casey! So he wasn’t really mad at Casey and I wanted that to come across with this build up to that fight, and the apology and offer to work on the upgrades/fixes thereafter. Donnie’s not mad at Casey and he doesn’t really blame Casey for locking Leo in the prison dimension. He’s just having a struggle, his world’s all messed up and he doesn’t have access to his usual coping mechanisms. So Leo being awake was a form of stability to him.

“I…” Casey shuffled nervously, chewing on his lip and looking anywhere but at the turtles, “It wasn’t...Leo.” Donnie stilled underneath his blanket and Casey’s breath caught, “It was me. I...you were...I tried to tell you I wasn’t Leo, but I don’t think you heard me. You were really out of it...”

And this moment of Casey knowing what he’s about to do, knowing he’s going to hurt Donnie, is hard on both of them. Casey’s got his own struggle of “I know these turtles, but at the same time they’re complete strangers”. It makes things super awkward for him, poor kid. So he knows what he's saying is going to hurt Donnie, he's just not sure what the reaction will be. I think that's really hard and scary for him. He can see bits of his old family in these turtles, but they will never be the people he grew up knowing.

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

I hold Made to Suffer and to Love in my hands and get mad that the author didn’t write more of it. Even though I am the author and I have nothing more to write for it.

Raph whimpered in his cage and tugged at the cuffs hopelessly. He caught Draxum’s eye and Draxum saw fear there. Raphael was so young. They were both so young. They were children, babies compared to his centuries of living.

I like to put emphasis on the fact that the turtles are children. They are kids. And while Rise does a very good job of having them act like teenagers, during those big action scenes it’s sometimes so easy to forget that they are just kids. Those are babies, your honor.

And to Draxum, whom I headcanon has lived for a very, very, very long time, looking at the turtles and actually seeing them as children I think is a big deal. I don’t think we really get that in the show, so this moment where he looks at big, powerful, intimidating Raphael and sees a scared little boy is so important. It’s such a big deal for Draxum to look at the turtles and see kids instead of warriors.

Draxum had always intended to give her what she wanted. They both knew it.

Like Splinter before him, Draxum would let the world burn if it meant keeping the boys safe.

I have so many emotions about how Splinter chose his sons over the world. How he defied his ancestors and instead of abandoning his family, he stuck with them, and that’s what saved the world in the end.

So of course I had to give that moment to Draxum too.

I think at this point Draxum didn’t really care about his mutagen at all anymore. It wasn’t about not giving it to Halima, it was about making sure his family was safe. And I kept thinking of the scene in Bug Busters, where Draxum dropped Leo off the roof because he wanted his mutagen back. And I wanted this to kind of feel like a mirror to that.

But I also wanted it to be clear that Draxum isn’t really used to being on this side of the emotional conflict. Which is why his anxiety to get Raph and Donnie free is ultimately his undoing. If he’d had a clearer head, he might have taken the necessary steps to iron out the fine print, even if it meant leaving the boys in the cages a little bit longer.

To be perfectly honest, I feel like I could almost write an essay about the parallels between Draxum and Splinter’s characters….

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

Calling Draxum “Dad” was a moment I planned from the get-go with this fic!

Yeah, like, half of Leo’s dialogue was very much inspired/stolen from when Markiplier got his wisdom teeth removed. But I knew I had to have Leo call Draxum “Dad” and then be absolutely mortified by it! And then tucker himself out by crying and fall asleep on his big sister.

Donnie defending Leo, also a mirror to Leo defending Donnie in the Battle Nexus New York episode. No one can call Leo stupid except for Donnie. That is Donnie’’s privilege and Donnie’s privilege alone. Leo is stupid (affectionate), and he will not stand to have Baron Draxum calling Leo stupid (derogatory).

(Side note; I have a great love of making Donnie kick. Headcanon that if he’s not using his tech, Donnie’s kicks are absolutely capable of obliterating your kneecaps. Will pulverize them into dust. Raph’s got the punches, but Donnie will roundhouse your head clean off your shoulders.)

[g1rld1ary]

omg hiiiiii! just saw your requests opened, so excited! i was hoping you could write something for lockwood with the enemies to lovers trope. anything you feel like with that is awesome! and ofc if you don’t want to feel free to not write it 🩷🩷

-mel

what once was ; anthony lockwood x reader

��� synopsis: you and lockwood hated each other, you had since you were just starting out as agents. when your team is made to work with his on a big case, deeper feelings might just get revealed

➻ word count: 10K (exactly, what are the chances?)

➻ warnings: swearing, mentions of kissing, angst maybe?, injuries

➻ thank u so much for this request lovely!!!! i am SO sorry this took almost a month, but it's the longest fic I've ever posted here so hopefully that makes up for it a little?? if this isn't what u had in mind pls let me know and I'd be happy to write something different! ik it might not be exactly enemies to lovers but I hateee when the dynamic has no respect or reason to be lovers. anyway thank u for the request lolol!!!! xxxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You thought you were a good person. You dedicated your life to fighting ghosts, you helped old ladies cross the street, you recycled when you could. That was enough to be considered a good person, right? You were almost totally convinced, except for the all the vile things you had to say about Anthony Lockwood.

He was, with no exaggeration, the bane of your existence. You had known him all your life, but hadn’t been friends with him since you were both twelve, just beginner agents. And yet, despite all of this hatred burning up within you, it seemed like the universe wouldn’t give you a moment of peace.

You understood running into his company every once in a while — agency events, maybe the occasional case, but lately it seemed like it was every week you had to face Lockwood’s nauseating grin and infuriating attempts at being charming. Whether it was your respective teams being sent on overlapping missions, picking up more supplies or just trying to pick up a coffee after a draining night, you had started to see Lockwood everywhere.

When you saw him again whilst you were picking up some doughnuts for your team you couldn’t help yourself snapping at him.

“God, are you obsessed with me or something, Anthony?” You barely spared him a glance as you finished the transaction with the cashier, quietly thanking him as you left. Lockwood did the same, practically throwing down his cash to catch up to you.

“You wish I was obsessed with you! I am just as unhappy as you are, trust me.”

“So what, you chased after me just say something we both already knew? Or do you have something you’d like to say, an apology perhaps?” You chanced a look in his eyes. Hurt flashed through them, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction.

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He cried, almost dropping his own box of pastries when he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You didn’t try to hide the rolling of your eyes.

“Whatever,” You huffed, before being struck with an idea. “By the way, did you hear that I’m now a team leader? That makes me the youngest in at least ten years — maybe ever. Pretty good for someone not fit to be an agent, don’t you think?” You feigned an interest in his opinion. His face dropped for a moment, then contorted to become almost polite.

“That was never—” You interrupted him with another sigh.

“Anthony, I really don’t care to listen to you discredit my achievements anymore.” You left him on the side of the street, marching back to your dorm at Fittes. You didn’t need to hear him tear you down and ruin your self-confidence more than he already had — not that you would ever tell him that. Lockwood was similarly disgruntled. Every interaction between you two turned into a fight regardless of what he said; he just couldn’t win.

You had a week of blissful distance from Lockwood and Co before you ran into them, quite unfortunately. You and your team had been assigned to an apartment that allegedly housed a few Type Ones, nothing serious but the residents had complained of hearing noises at odd hours. You held a bit of doubt — living in the dorms had forced you to become accustomed to the most bizarre noises at night, and those were most definitely not ghosts. Plus, adults tended to be paranoid; the noise could be anything from rodents to their little children being awake in the early hours of the morning.

Still, you had a job to complete, so you trudged your small team up to the apartment in question, ready for a quick job and to be cozy in bed before midnight. When Lockwood and Co were standing outside the apartment next to your appointed one, your face dropped into a scowl.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped, talking directly to Lockwood. He hesitated for a moment before turning to face you, brilliant smile shining.

“Lovely to see you again too, sweetheart, we’re actually here on a job? Nice of you to come as our clean-up crew, but that really won’t be necessary. Run along now.” You had to hand it to him, Lockwood had perfected his condescending tone. You were going to respond when the girl behind him began to talk.

“Hey, I recognise you! You’re—” Lockwood cut her off quickly.

“Alright, Luce, I think it’s time we go inside, don’t you?” He was shepherding the girl through the apartment door before you could process what was happening. George, to his credit, looked highly amused at the whole thing. You always liked George, even when he was at Fittes, and seeing him was usually the only upside to your interactions with Lockwood and Co.

“Who’s the girl?” You asked, nodding your head to where she and Lockwood had disappeared to.

“Lucy Carlyle,” He answered, “She’s a Listener — still learning the ropes.”

“And she knows me how?” George just smiled, and you could tell he was keeping secrets.

“I’m sure you’ll find out one day.” He began to follow the rest of his coworkers and you pouted.

“I hate when you side with him!” You called after him, before composing yourself and directing your own team to start the night. They just went along with it, used to your behaviour, and set up your equipment for the mission.

It was not going well. You could all feel a supernatural presence, but no ghosts and no signs of what you’d thought might’ve been the source. Plus, all you could hear was the apartment next door — their stompy footsteps, their laughter over the tea you knew they always had, and one of them wouldn’t stop knocking on the fucking wall.

It was supremely childish, and you would put all of your bets on it being Lockwood trying to throw you off your game. Unfortunately, it was working. And your bad mood was spreading to your teammates. The mission was certainly not going well, all four of you picking fights and throwing digs at each other as you searched uselessly for what could possible be the source, all with no confirmed supernatural presence.

Just as you were about to say something really cruel to your favourite member of your team, the words died in your throat. The temperature rose a few degrees, and you could practically see all your negative thoughts floating away. By the looks of it, your teammates all felt it too. When the freezing shock of the change wore off, you all resigned to embarrassment, realising exactly what had just happened.

This was only furthered when Lockwood waltzed into the apartment, cocky grin practically blinding you.

“Guess that another successful mission for Lockwood and Co now includes saving the careers of egotistical Fittes agents too now,” He crowed, and you rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might disconnect from your face.

“Clearly,” You tried to keep your tone level, “The source wasn’t in this apartment, so we couldn’t have found it regardless of if you were here.”

“Plus they were just Type Ones. You didn’t save any lives, Lockwood,” Your best friend, Sarah, piped up and you smirked.

“Maybe not in the physical sense,” He conceded, “But I definitely saved the career of the ‘youngest ever team leader’ — don’t think you would’ve kept the position for very long if you couldn’t fight a simple Type One.” You turned red in humiliation. How dare Lockwood act so high and mighty, like you owed him the career you fought so hard for? You wanted to express all the seething fury that burned your tongue, but the only thing that came out was a vicious declaration.

“I hate you, Anthony Lockwood.” Lockwood at least had the decency to look somewhat hurt. Although you’d been arguing for years with the insults only getting meaner as you both grew up and developed more precise vocabularies, neither of you had ever vocalised any hatred before. It cut deeper than Lockwood thought it would. You didn’t wait to observe the intricacies of his reaction, storming out of the apartment, making sure your kit bag hit him heavily as you passed.

“Well,” Lockwood broke the awkward silence that fell over the apartment, “I think we’re all done for the night. Let’s go.” Lockwood and Co began packing up their kit bags and gear, Lucy sweeping some leftover magnesium dust under an armchair. Lockwood paused in the doorway, looking back to Sarah with a curious softness.

“Make sure she’s alright, yeah?” Sarah nodded, swallowing a curious look. With a final nod he was gone, leaving the rest of your team to wonder what had just happened to shift the dynamic.

Back in your dorm at Fittes, you were still fired up. Pissed off by Lockwood’s ego, his audacity, you had practically already paced a hole in the floor upon your short return from dinner. All of these years and he still didn’t believe you were a capable agent, let alone team leader! You may not have really hated him; it was hard to truly hate someone who you shared so much history with, but you were glad you said it. Glad you hurt him, even a little. Maybe then he’d know how you felt.

He had — probably unwittingly — saved you arse though. It was one of your very first missions and unfortunately Lockwood was right; a team leader who couldn’t defeat a simple Type One, or realise that their case was a goose chase in the wrong apartment, wouldn’t last. So although he was the one who had told you you couldn’t be an agent in the first place, you probably owed your current position to him, which only mad you more mad. It was an endless cycle of being angry at Anthony Lockwood.

When Sarah came in to sit on your bed, you still weren’t done, taking the opportunity to verbalise your stream of thought.

“He is simply the worst person in the whole world and has no respect for me! I mean, he wouldn’t have helped at all if it didn’t serve his own inflated ego ,” You said, throwing your hands in the air in anguish. Sarah simply watched, barely concealing her amusement.

“Ok, but have you considered maybe he just argues back because you hate him? I mean, where did it start?” You huffed, vaulting yourself back onto your mattress.

“When we were twelve years old, he told me I couldn’t be an agent. I said ‘fuck you’ and have worked my bloody arse off to be one despite it, and to become the youngest team leader at Fittes, and yet every time I see him he still tries to sabotage my career or make me look stupid! God, he drives me up the wall!”

“So you’ve said all these horrid things because he didn’t believe in you?” She laughed a little, eliciting a deep frown from you.

“You don’t get it,” You said, tone solemn, “He was my best friend. He was supposed to believe in me even when everyone else said it was dumb.” The dampened mood brought a premature end to your conversation, Sarah leaving you to your thoughts and feelings as you dwelled on the past in a way you would usually forbid yourself from.

You pulled a framed photo out from behind your stack of books on the shelf. You and Lockwood as children, smiling brightly on a day at the beach, a spade in your hand and a bucket in his, your free ones intertwined as kids often do. You didn’t know why you’d kept it after all these years, looking at any photo of Lockwood typically made you mad, but you felt a bit guilty discarding the keepsake, especially the handmade frame his parents had given you one birthday before they passed. Plus, the memory untouched was one of your favourites — one of the last of your carefree days in childhood when you and Lockwood were best friends and both your families were whole. You held it softly for a moment, indulging yourself in being swept away by memories before deciding enough was enough and returning to the present, distracting yourself with a novel you’d picked up.

You were given a few weeks to cool down, blissfully free from any trace of Lockwood. You thought he must’ve been aware of the heightened tension between you recently, since you’d seen Lucy shopping around Arif’s and ran into George whilst getting your usual Friday night takeaway.

Hearing your name being called from around the corner of an aisle you turned quickly, reflexes on edge. Seeing it was just the redhead you relaxed, making yourself smile.

“Oh, hi, Lucy. How are you?” You made polite conversation, continuing on with your shopping. She replied cordially, a vague awkward air between you that you were both trying your best to overcome.

“We’re all really sorry about the case the other day, by the way. We didn’t mean to take it over or jeopardise your job or anything.”

“It’s nothing,” You assured, “I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the best of me, every agent knows that.”

“Yeah, but if Lockwood hadn’t—”

“Lucy,” You interrupted, “You don’t need to condemn Lockwood, or defend him. We both know where we stand with each other and that’s ok. I hope that doesn’t stop us from being friends either; you’re sweet.” Lucy managed a smile, revealing a pretty sparkle in her eye.

“I’d like to be friends too. Maybe we just won’t tell him,” She giggled, and you nodded gravely.

“Sounds like a plan.” You left Arif’s with a bag full of groceries and plan for coffee sometime.

George was less forgiving than Lucy. As you bickered over who got the last can of Coke in the restaurant’s little fridge, he imparted some of his very much unwanted advice.

“You should apologise. I think you crossed a line,” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“He questioned my right to even be where I am — I think I have the right to be pissed at him.”

“He didn’t mean it,” George said quickly. Almost too quickly.

“How would you know?” You narrowed your eyes. George recoiled — he’d been caught.

“You know,” He trailed off, “Lockwood’s not like that. You should know that better than anyone.” You huffed again, fed up.

“I knew,” You corrected, “He’s shown me exactly how he feels about me now. And I am absolutely fine with that. I’m taking the Coke.” You ended the conversation abruptly, snatching the can out of George’s grip.

“But Lockwood doesn’t like any of the other flavours!” He called after you. You exaggerated a laugh, not looking back as you opened the restaurant door quickly.

“I know!” You yelled over your shoulder. George watched you leave, calculating look in his eyes. You said you hated Lockwood, he didn’t doubt you believed it, too. But he knew that most people didn’t remember which fizzy drinks their enemies liked.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Thankfully, you got just the distraction you needed. Your team had been given one of the most exciting cases on the Fittes roster. One of those old boutique hotels with funnily named rooms and a long, terrible history that had you buried in fascinating research. You couldn’t believe your team had been given the assignment, it was a sign that you were really beginning to be respected as a team leader in the agency. So, you couldn’t screw it up.

You and your team had been practically camped out in the Fittes archives, researching as much as you possibly could about the old hotel. There were a smattering of unfortunate deaths across the years — some darker than others, but you were confident it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The owners hadn’t specified exactly what supernatural experiences they had seen around the hotel, just that it was clear there were several presences around and they wanted them all gone to reopen the hotel as soon as possible. This did admittedly make you a little apprehensive — you didn’t actually have a solid idea of how many ghosts you’d be dealing with, and it was anyone’s guess how many of them would be Type Twos.

Finally, you were confident you and your team had done as much research as you could, and you were prepared for anything. And so you packed your kit bags, took the train ride and rocked up to the hotel mid afternoon, confidence overflowing. By nightfall you’d been on a tour of the grounds, set up your base and had started brewing some tea to get you all in the zone. You took a glance out the front window, seeing movement in one of the windows of the house next door. It was owned by the people who ran the hotel and they intended to open it as a second venue, but delegated the job to some smaller agency since the stakes for it weren’t as high.

It was all going well for a while. You had a plan to go room by room, making each ghost free before finishing in the majorly haunted kitchen. You were inclined to believe there’d be a cluster of Type Twos there since it was set alight years ago, and the accident had been swept under the rug in favour of saving the business.

The entryway was easy; a few Type Ones that practically led you their sources, clearly just wanting to finally be laid to rest. There was one nasty Limbless that gave you all a fright, but your researcher, Ben, was always miles ahead of the rest of you and knew exactly who the ghost was and therefore how to put him to rest. You told him you owed him a beer later and moved on, crossing a single room off the floor plan and shifting into the library, which was not so easy.

You started to think things were not as great as you originally anticipated when you turned to face the mass of Type Ones. Not the end of the world, a little bloody annoying though. Sarah seemed to agree, kicking the leg of a couch in frustration. The four of you figured your way out of it, though significantly depleted of supplies.

You returned to your home base to recoup, physically and mentally battered.

“What’s the plan?” Sarah asked, chugging down mouthfuls from her water bottle. You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought hard, tapping your fingers insistently on the old wooden table.

“Alright, I think we’ve got enough for one more safely. Kyan, you go outside and get the rest of our equipment whilst we hit the second bedroom.”

“If we’re right then there should only be the one ghost there, right? The strangled woman?” You nodded in response to Ben, mentally drawing your plan.

“And if you’re wrong?” Kyan asked.

“We won’t be,” You affirmed, tapping twice on the table to get you all moving.

Kyan left the building to go fetch the spare supplies and the remaining three of you ventured into the second bedroom. Everything was as it should be; lower temperature, creeping feelings of unease and miasma. You’d put together your chain circle and were feeling good about the Type Two woman you were facing, well, as good as you could in those circumstances.

That was, until it wasn’t just one Type Two. Despite the research and preparation you’d undertaken, there was definitely more than one Type Two enraged by your presence in the room at that moment. There was the woman, an angry apparition of some sort — you didn’t have the time to exactly figure out which subtype she fell into when a man also appeared. Shit. He wasted no time showing you he was aggressive too, and your heart sunk into your toes.

Doing some quick mental calculations, you announced the new plan — to get out. As team leader, you refused to be responsible for an injury or something worse because you wouldn’t back down when you knew you didn’t have enough defences left.

“Soon as it’s safe, get the fuck out of here,” You said, feeling to make sure they were still both in the circle with you as you stood with backs inward. “Use your defences as liberally as you feel you need to — we’re all getting out of here tonight.”

“What about the sources?” Sarah asked nervously, “We’ve only got one or two so far.”

“Who cares? Most agencies get one or two a mission and we’re in a giant bloody hotel. We’ve got more nights to get this done. We can’t get it done if you lot go off and die, can we?” Ben shrugged.

“S’pose not. Let’s go.” With that the three of you made a run for it, bolting out the bedroom door and into the corridor.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled, dodging out the way of another phantom headed your way. Evidently your previous endeavours had attracted the attention of some of the other ghosts inhabiting the hotel, none looking all that happy.

Your swear words didn’t falter as you continued the escape, ducking and jumping and making an utter fool of yourself to ensure you all made it out alive. You’d been covered by Sarah a few minutes ago with one of her magnesium flares, and so returned the favour without hesitation, only faltering slightly when you realised it was your last. You tried not to worry about it too much, you were nearing the laundry where there was a back door you could get to.

The closer you got to your escape the fewer visible apparitions there were. That was a good thing, your chances of ghost touch reducing greatly. However, that didn’t mean you weren’t still being hunted. A poltergeist had found you somewhere along the way, and the stream of things being thrown at you hadn’t ended yet. You’d vaguely felt something heavy hitting the back of your head and shoulders, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins was withholding the pain for the moment.

You’d crossed the threshold into the laundry, the back door within your sights. Maybe you got complacent, believing the end was nearer than you thought. Maybe it was just awful timing. However, as your feet hit the tiles of the room, you were being swept off your feet by the washing machine sliding into you, crushing you between it and the wall. You cried out unintentionally, feeling a sickening crack inside your chest. Your teammates turned back, door wide open and safety in sight.

“Don’t you dare come back for me,” You croaked, the wind pushed out of you. “Or I swear to God I’ll come and haunt you.” Ben took the threat and ran, ducking out the door into the fresh air of the night. Sarah hesitated, turning back to lock eyes with you, regret painted across her features. With a final threat she left too, leaving you to try and push the machine away from you in order to make your own escape. However, in an unfortunate series of events, the adrenaline started to wear off after your chase and you felt the sharp pain running along your skull, a thick drop of blood making its way down from a strand of hair into your left eye. Plus, you were pretty sure the machine had broken one of your wrists as any pressure you put onto it trying to move the machine set your nerves on fire, leaving you just your legs to try and make an escape. Turns out it’s harder than it looks to push a stupidly heavy washing machine away from you with your legs when you’re incapacitated on the floor.

Seeing your best friend the strangled woman approaching you sighed, trying to resign yourself to your fate. There was no way you were making it out without a miracle, and you were never the lucky kind. As she spotted you, you sealed your eyes tightly closed, unwilling to watch your own demise. It never came. When you chanced one eye open all you saw was sparks, the unmistakeable smell of a magnesium flare filling the room. You didn’t know what to feel. Relieved, of course, pissed off that your team had disrespected your wishes and endangered themselves, faint from the adrenaline and blood loss. Mostly faint, you decided, as you lay your head back against the tile, a sleep sounding like the nicest thing in the world suddenly.

You must have passed out for a minute or two as when you opened your eyes again you were in the air, distant voices yelling over the explosions and lights, but you felt a million miles away. You cuddled yourself into the body of whoever was carrying you — they were warm and your body felt ice cold. Everywhere you looked appeared blurry (and slightly pink, presumably from the blood in your eye), so you granted yourself some mercy and simply closed them. You thought you heard a mumbled “Hold on for me,” But you couldn’t be sure, everything was ringing in your head and the weight of staying awake was heavy on your foggy brain.

The next time you woke up was about half an hour later, or so you guessed. The sky was fractionally lighter than you remembered seeing, inching towards dawn, and you were laid down on dewey wet grass. The cool of it was nice on your skin, though you knew it would do major damage to your hair. Not that that was your greatest concern at the moment. You pushed yourself up on your elbows slowly, looking around at the scene that was coming into focus. Your team were on one side of you, looking exhausted but mostly physically fine. Straight ahead of you was Barnes, not looking as disappointed as you thought he would after a failed case. To your left was Lockwood and Co. Why were Lockwood and Co here? Why was Lockwood looking at you so intently, and why did he look like he was worried about you?

Only the first of your questions was answered. Evidently Lockwood and Co were the ‘small agency’ the hotel owners had given a chance for the smaller house on the edge of the property. They heard the commotion your team had made and Sarah’s screaming outside the kitchen door and came to save the day — of course. You were about to put up the protest that you didn’t need saving but it died in your throat when you saw the serious looks of everyone around you. Clearly this wasn’t the time for any of your bullshit.

“Clearly this case is bigger than your team can achieve,” Barnes said, and the fire was reignited within you. He must have been able to see what you were going to say and cut you off, “But I’m not taking you off the case.”

“Thank you,” You said quickly, tension in your shoulders releasing slightly.

“Lockwood and Co will work with you until the hotel is ghost free.”

“What?” You and Lockwood cried in unison, and you felt his eyes fall back on you. You refused to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sir—” You started, being cut off by Lockwood.

“We don’t work well together—”

“I happen to know you both need this case, or do you not care about the future of your jobs?” Barnes raised an eyebrow in the intimidating way only he could pull off. He had you there. Failing in a case, especially one that resulted in a near death experience would certainly jeopardise your trajectory at Fittes, and, unbeknownst to you, Lockwood and Co were pretty desperate for some good representation, unable to receive the praise deserved from the Combe Carey Hall case. You looked at Lockwood to find him already searching your face. After a moment of silent arguing between the two of you, you turned back to face Barnes, exaggerated smiles on both your faces.

“We’ll do it.” You smiled sweetly. A few more formalities sent Barnes and the other DEPRAC officer off, and only the two teams were left standing around, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of all the kit bags.

“So what do we do now?” Sarah asked, a thought very similar to the ones bouncing around your head at the moment.

“Breakfast?” George suggested, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen your team agree to something so enthusiastically. The group of you all headed back to the train station, but Lockwood didn’t let you continue in the line to get your ticket. Instead he pulled you away from the crowd, seeming to have already told Lucy what was happening, judging from her cheerful wave goodbye.

You glared at him, yanking your arm away then groaning at the pain.

“What are we doing, Lockwood?” You asked with an exaggerated huff.

“We’re going to the hospital,” He said, unbothered by your protests. “And don’t say you’re fine because it’s clear you’re injured. I’d say a broken wrist, concussion and maybe a cracked rib, but we can let the doctors tell us I’m wrong, I’d be happy for them to tell you otherwise.” That shut you up, not least because you knew he was probably right. You’d been given a shot of adrenaline and a few painkillers by the DEPRAC officer who accompanied Barnes over, but you probably did need actual medical attention.

It was a very awkward cab ride to the local hospital. You and Lockwood were so used to arguing by now that silence felt like the only other viable option. You couldn’t make small talk, what would you even talk about? The only thing you knew about his life was his childhood, and you sure as hell weren’t gonna talk about that. The tension was palpable in the backseat, and when the cab driver wished you good luck for the hospital visit, you figured he didn’t just mean because of your injuries. You did force yourself to thank Lockwood when he paid for the ride though, even if it was just for the sake of the day moving on faster.

At least the waiting room created its own noise; beeping and chattering and footsteps filling the silence between you two. You struggled with the form in front of you, inconveniently having your dominant hand be out of working order. You painfully etched out your information over an embarrassing amount of time before Lockwood huffed loudly and snatched the clipboard from your lap.

“Fuck’s sake,” He muttered, pulling his own pen from his suit pocket, beginning to scribble down the answers for you. You just relaxed, your tired, drug-addled brain being allowed to rest for a moment. It wasn’t until he asked about your health insurance that you fully realised he was answering the questions by memory and forced your eyes to focus on the paper. Sure enough he’d gotten it all right, birthday and middle name included. You glanced up at him curiously, but it seemed like this was the moment he refused to make eye contact. You only had to inform him of things that had changed since you’d fallen out, neither of you verbalising that fact.

Things didn’t change when you were called into the doctor’s office either. The mix of pain, medicine and sleep deprivation led you to embrace the exam table and bordered on falling asleep as Lockwood talked for you. He’d gotten the rundown of the actual events from Sarah and his brief moments when he saved you, and explained the night as you got an x-ray for your hand. Plus, as you were waiting for the cast (it was, in fact, broken), he explained your previous medical history — the knee you dislocated when you were nine and the broken pinky finger from the year after. You only had to participate to explain the injuries you’d acquired during your career as an agent; the ones from after you and Lockwood stopped being friends.

The whole trip was extremely bizarre and slightly unnerving, and you were glad to get on the train on the way back.

“You were wrong about one thing,” You said, pulling out your walkman from your kit bag.

“And what’s that?” Lockwood asked, and you got the impression he was bracing to be yelled at again — you felt almost bad.

“No cracked rib for me.” You grinned, beginning to laugh uncharacteristically. You didn’t know why, it really wasn’t that funny, but Lockwood followed suit soon after. The two of you laughed borderline hysterically, much too energetic for that hour of the morning when everyone else was still heading to work. It only tapered off when your poor ribs couldn’t take it anymore (not broken but aggressively bruised), and the two of you fell back into silence. You had your music and Lockwood had a magazine you suspected he’d stolen from the A+E waiting room.

The only other time you spoke during the trip was when you summoned the courage to utter a somewhat genuine “Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thanks. For not letting me die. And stuff.”

“Oh. You’re welcome,” Lockwood shot you a smile, the glowing kind you rarely got to see anymore.

As you got back to London and closer to Portland Row where your team was waiting, the air seemed to get thicker between the two of you once again. Maybe it was the proximity to the things that had torn you apart or the sense that you had predefined roles to play, but the carefree air between you had dissipated, leaving only the familiar tension that had been building over the last four years.

You followed Lockwood inside, trying to hide the out of body experience you were having returning to his family home after so many years. It had changed a little, of course, but still felt overwhelmingly the same, which both scared and comforted you. All the freaky foreign ghost hunting objects still littered the shelves, and you took the liberty of admiring them once again, remembering the stories Lockwood’s parents would tell about them and the adventures they’d had when collecting them. In your periphery you saw Lockwood hurriedly grab something off the wall by the stairs, shoving it in a drawer, but you really had no interest, choosing instead to reacquaint yourself with the house. The glimpse you got up the stairs showed a myriad of framed pictures of Lockwood and you scoffed — of course his ego would be on full display within his own home.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

It was surprisingly easy to get into the groove of working with Lockwood and Co. Obviously you already liked George and Lucy, but your team seemed to work unexpectedly well with theirs. You and Lockwood stayed out of each other’s ways, the few times you were left to work together resulting in another stupid argument. The first time when you thought he was calling you dumb, the second over something minuscule; who’d let the tea brew too long so it tasted shit. And then who had to subsequently get up and make the next pot. Despite both of you honestly trying to be professional and get on with the job, it was agreed by everyone that it was simply easiest to keep the two of you apart as much as possible.

However, when the hotel owners wanted the leaders of both teams to meet up for updates on the case, you couldn’t get out of it. The day wasn’t looking good. You’d shown up to Portland Row so you could get a cab together — the meeting being dinner in central London, and had already argued with him over his choice of socks. In your defence, the powder blue socks matching your dress did make it look like you were a high school couple trying to match at a formal! However, George had rolled his eyes and pushed the two of you back out and towards the waiting cab, effectively ending that argument. You’d also teased Lockwood for bringing his rapier to a business dinner, but that was neither here nor there.

You’d held it together for most of the dinner, both of you putting on your best fronts and using your most formal tones to convince the elder couple that you were confident about the case. You found yourself kicking his shins to stop Lockwood from making promises you couldn’t keep regarding the case, and he got you back with condescending remarks, correcting you when he disagreed with how you presented the case. Altogether though you thought you were pretty subtle, and the two of you were presenting a model image of your respective companies.

However, when you shot Lockwood one of your saccharine smiles under the pretence of friendliness — he’d just undermined your authority again and stolen the best piece of dessert that you were going for, as if he didn’t torture you enough — you were shocked to hear the woman across from you laugh.

“It’s so wonderful to see you two bicker like an old married couple,” She giggled, and both you and Lockwood’s jaws dropped. “I mean, it just seems so dismal to be dating in these times, but you two give me hope that the future generations will still be able find love despite the Problem.”

“And clearly you’re both sensible kids, which is very important for a lasting relationship. Working for two different agencies would surely diffuse tensions around all those dangerous missions and such you agents partake in — except for this one, of course,” Her husband chimed in, jolly glint in his eyes.

“Yes, yes, but it’s important to remember to be kids as much as you can. But you two playing footsies all night has proved that you’ve got that covered too. Silliness is just as crucial as being sensible, it’s how a marriage stays fun. We would know, we’ve had fifty odd years of it!”

You didn’t know how to react, and by the looks of it, Lockwood didn’t know either with his signature smile frozen on his face. First of all, you were not playing footsies with Anthony Lockwood — the bruise forming under his trouser leg was testament to that. Second of all, you had no idea how the woman could get your dynamic so incredibly wrong. Aside from all of Lockwood’s double edged comments and cocky corrections of basically anything you said, the two of you had hardly addressed each other directly all night, you might as well have been strangers!

The dinner wrapped up very soon after. The couple had taken a liking to you both and so trusted your teams to handle the case as you saw fit, only making you promise to take a romantic weekend getaway (or honeymoon! As the woman had remarked optimistically) to the hotel once it was completely ghost-free and renovated. For once you were glad that Lockwood was unable to ever shut up as he took the lead, seeming to believe that corroborating their assumption was the best choice in your situation. You weren’t sure you were entirely comfortable with lying to this sweet old couple, but you couldn’t deny that Lockwood was a better talker than you, and would probably handle the situation with more delicacy.

That was how you ended up being led out of the restaurant with Lockwood’s hand on the small of your back. You wondered if he’d ever done this before, and you didn’t know if you meant for a real or pretend relationship. You both said your goodbyes to the couple, flattered by the abundance of compliments they paid you — both personally and professionally, assuring you they were overjoyed to have your teams work the case. Just before they stepped into the cab the woman took you aside.

“Hold onto a boy who looks at you like that,” She said, “You might fight, but when he’s this in awe of you, you’ll find a way to make it work.” You didn’t know how to respond to that and so simply nodded, offering a weak smile as she slid into the back seat of the taxi.

That left you and Lockwood alone. You just looked at each other for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

“Do you mind if we walk home? I really fancy some air right now.” Lockwood easily agreed, looking rather flustered himself, and off the two of you went into the night.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but you could tell he wanted to. Lockwood always chewed his lip when he was holding something back, he had since he was a child. You sighed and asked him, knowing it was the only way to make the habit go away.

“Nothing,” He said, “Just weird. Don’t you think?”

“Nah,” You lied, “Old people just say things like that all the time. They don’t care to know the full picture.”

“Which is?”

“We hate each other.” Hurt flashed through his eyes, but it didn’t make you feel as good as it did the first time you’d said it.

“I don’t hate you,” He said quietly, almost a whisper.

“What?”

“I don’t hate you. We don’t get along anymore, but I don’t hate you. I hope you know that.” You faltered for a second. Had his use of ‘anymore’ been intentional to create a stabbing feeling in your gut?

“Oh. I guess I don’t really hate you either, if we’re getting sappy about it.” You tried to diffuse the tension growing between you, not wanting it to evolve into a discussion about what estranged you in the first place. Lockwood refused to apologise and you refused to forget, resulting in the bitter stalemate you’d been locked in for the past few years.

Your distraction came with a glance over Lockwood’s shoulder, and the wisp of a phantom coming into view. Lockwood was trying to continue the conversation about your developing relationship, but stopped when he noticed you frozen beside him. Turning slowly he swore when he saw the ghost, going straight for his rapier.

“Put your hand into my coat pocket,” He said, effectively drawing you from your freeze.

“Excuse me?” You whisper-yelled, not in the mood for him to try and lighten the mood with whatever dumb joke he was trying to make.

“Just trust me, I have flares in the inside pocket, just reach in and grab them to defend yourself whilst I keep an eye on them.” Them? You wondered until you looked around, seeing other ghosts start to emerge from the shadows, attracted by the scene you were obviously creating. You wasted no more time, ignoring the intimacy of reaching into Lockwood’s jacket, grabbing yourself a flare for each hand. With you accounted for, Lockwood told you the plan, he’d fight a path back to Portland Row and you’d cover the both of you with the flares, since you weren’t good for very much else with a broken wrist and no rapier.

It was hardly the most intense situation you or Lockwood had been in, but as the primary fighter in the situation, Lockwood was still putting up a good show of skill. Despite yourself you were entranced, admiring the graceful way he moved with the rapier, so in tune with it you’d think it was connected to his arm. As much as you hated Lockwood — well, you’d just established you didn’t actually hate him. As much as you thought he was egotistical and irritating, you had to admit that you really admired him as an agent. Lockwood was undeniably talented with a rapier — it was the fencing competition that got him started in this business in the first place — but to watch him in action was really something special. If you didn’t know better you’d think it was easy for him, he fought with the same ease and elegance he might drink a cup of tea.

You were so caught up in watching him that you hardly noticed when you arrived in front of 35 Portland Row, both luckily un-ghost touched. You were also alerted to the proximity you’d found yourself in. You’d stayed close obviously, not wanting to be left to the ghosts, but when Lockwood had turned to make sure you were still with him safely inside the iron fence, you found yourself only inches apart.

At this distance you were alerted to just how much he’d changed since you were kids. He was taller, obviously, your chin tilted up to make eye contact. He’d lost the baby fat that used to fill out his cheeks, leaving his face defined and bordering on gaunt — you figured he wasn’t taking very good care of himself, judging on the dark circles that seemed by now permanent. Plus something had changed in his eyes. He didn’t look carefree anymore, something dark and tortured lay behind the charming smiles. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was, and you figured you probably had something identical. However, the small scar on his jawline from when you accidentally flung a plastic toy into his face was still there which drew a small smile from you. Something within you urged to run your finger along it, and you felt your fingers twitch before you realised how inappropriate it was. That instinct didn’t feel so bad though when you caught Lockwood’s gaze shift down to your lips. Only momentarily, but you saw it. And worse? The fact that you didn’t mind. After all of these years and the fighting and terrible words shared, here you were maybe about to kiss Anthony Lockwood. You would be disgusted with yourself if you didn’t have so many other feelings fighting their way to the top.

The front door opening was enough to make you both jump apart, you rushing towards it to get as far from Lockwood as possible.

“Hey Lucy!” You called, practically floating up the front steps you were going so fast.

“Uh, hey, guys. We thought we heard you outside so I got sent to check. Had to make sure you weren’t secretly making out or something,” She joked and you forced out a laugh, far too loud to be real.

“As if! Come on, I’m dying for some tea.” You slid past her, rushing straight to the kitchen for a minute to think.

Lucy watched you go suspiciously, before turning to Lockwood.

“What did you do?” She interrogated, all her scary Lucy-ness coming out.

“I don’t know,” Lockwood replied earnestly, still somewhat dazed himself. Lucy gave him one last look up and down before returning inside, leaving Lockwood to fix his smile on before rejoining the two teams.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

The week leading up to your team’s next attempt at the hotel was extremely weird. You and Lockwood hadn’t spoken about what had happened (or almost happened) out in the front garden, but you had had a long talk about your behaviour lately. Over a few cups of tea in the kitchen whilst the rest of your teams were working down in the basement, you managed to both admit you were being dickheads. There was no mention of the underlying factors of your resentment, but you both agreed for the sake of your jobs you would try and be friends, or at least civil. No more bickering, no more picking apart small comments, no more rolling eyes.

It worked for a bit, which was really complicating your emotions. On the one hand, Lockwood was lovely, like he’d always been, and it was kind of nice to be able to talk and joke with him again after so many years, although you both carefully avoided the topic of your personal lives. On the other hand, it made you sad to pretend that everything was fine when you knew what you did. He didn’t think you could be an agent; Lockwood didn’t think you were good enough. And you could both pretend all you liked to be friends, but as long as that was what he thought about you it could never be real. So, while you’d both stopped your rivalry on the surface and gotten on with the case, there was a tension bubbling behind your smiles that both of you could see whenever you locked eyes.

It all came to a head when you started discussing your action plan for the hotel. All seven of you were standing in the basement of Portland Row, staring at a blown up floor plan of the place, little figurines representing each of you. It didn’t take you long to realise that you weren’t being represented.

“Where am I?” You asked, an uneasy silence falling over the room.

“You’re not coming.” Lockwood took the fall, even though it had been a unanimous decision whilst you were on an Arif’s run one afternoon.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t help the biting tone in your words, fury you’d worked hard to conceal bubbling back up to the surface.

“Your wrist—” Sarah tried to reason, but something in you had unlocked and you were not backing down this time.

“You and I know full well if this was a Fittes case I would still be out in the field, broken wrist be damned,” You spat, and you could practically see the gears turning in Lockwood and Lucy’s heads.

“They make you go into the field injured?” Lucy asked, but you weren’t focused on answering her — George nodded for you.

“So who’s barred me from being in the field, on what I might remind you, was my case first.” There were a few moments of silence where no one wanted to be the subject of your anger, but with a resigned sigh, Lockwood accepted the blame.

“It was my idea.” You couldn’t help the frustrated groan that came out of your mouth.

“God, this is so typical! You’ve never thought I was good enough, and now what? Sabotaging my cases? My career? Because you don’t believe in me,” Your voice broke on the last sentence, and you could feel the tears heavy behind your eyes, threatening to fall. You spat a final “Fuck you,” before running up the basement stairs, up to where you knew the bathroom would be for some privacy.

You realised when you were at the top of the stairs that in your time working with Lockwood and Co you hadn’t actually used their bathroom, and didn’t remember which of the closed doors it was. Choosing one blindly you shut yourself inside, finally letting the tears that blurred your vision roll down your cheeks.

You sobbed heavily, indulging all the terrible feelings you’d been concealing for far too long. When the tears weren’t so frequent the setting around you came back into focus, and you noticed with a start you definitely weren’t in the bathroom. The view from the window told you it was Lockwood’s late parent’s bedroom, but the used furniture and messy bed said someone was still living there. Your stomach dropped as you stood, wiping the tears from your eyes. Looking around you were sure this was Lockwood’s room, the suit jacket on the desk chair a dead giveaway. However, a picture frame on his nightstand attracted your attention the most. It was the same one you had in your dorm at Fittes, the one gifted to you by Lockwood’s parents for your birthday. Both of you grinning widely and carelessly joyful. It had been so long since you’d felt like that, even longer since you’d felt it around Lockwood. The thought made your heart ache a bit. His parents would be so disappointed in the two of you. That made you start crying a little again, picking up the photo to examine it closer.

“It’s been there since you left,” A voice from behind you said. “I couldn’t bring myself to put it away.” You hadn’t noticed Lockwood come in and you didn’t know how long he’d been standing there. You put the photo down with a start, turning away to wipe your face dry again.

“Go away, Lockwood. Just give me a minute and I’ll be back downstairs. I overreacted but I need to get over it, okay?” You snapped, praying your face wasn’t still red and splotchy (it was).

“No,” He said, and you turned to face him curiously. “Look, this has gone on long enough and we need to fix things.” You crossed your arms petulantly, a silent challenge for him to fix the damage you believed to be all his. “You said downstairs that I thought you couldn’t be an agent. Why?”

“Don’t you remember when I told you I wanted to be an agent like you?” You scoffed, “You all but laughed in my face! You said I couldn’t do it, that I’d be injured or killed and I couldn’t handle it. I’ve thought about that every case since, you killed my self esteem for years. I thought that if no one else, my best friend should have believed in me. But here I am, youngest team leader at Fittes with the highest successful case rate for my division. All in spite of you.” Lockwood stared at you, and you could practically see his neurons firing and making connections at a million miles an hour.

“That’s not what I said.” You could barely contain your bitter laugh.

“Does it matter? You didn’t believe in me, that’s what’s important.”

“No,” He said, “Because that’s not what I meant at all. I did believe in you — I do. I always have.” You scoffed again as he stumbled over his words. A little grovelling now couldn’t make up for all the years of anxiety and insecurity he’d caused.

“I mean it! If I didn’t believe in you, then what’s all this?” He led you to one of his dresser drawers. Opening it there were a stack of papers and you picked a few of them up, flipping through them. Every single one was about you. Photos from your childhood together, newspaper clippings of your successes throughout the years, the magazine article you interviewed for talking about women in power in the ghost hunting field. Lockwood had saved every piece of media about you, the ragged edges showing he’d ripped them out just to keep them. You remained silent, astonished by this new revelation. You looked up at him, and Lockwood could have cried at the look in your eyes.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t be an agent,” He explained, “Or that’s not what I meant. I meant that you shouldn’t, or more clearly, I was saying don’t. Asking. Don’t you remember? My parents were dead, my sister had just died. You were all I had left, and I didn’t want you to jump head first into the most dangerous job in the world. I wanted to protect you.” It was Lockwood’s turn for his voice to break and tears to arise, and you suddenly felt supremely stupid.

“Oh,” Was all you could say. After all of these years; the insults thrown and dirty looks exchanged, all your anger came from a misunderstanding? Not only that, a misunderstanding that twisted such an earnest declaration of care into something so awful.

“But you did it, and you weren’t just any agent,” He laughed slightly despite his emotions, “You were the best bloody agent Fittes has ever seen and all I could do was watch from the shadows and be proud of you silently. Why do you think Lucy knew who you were already? There were pictures of you all over the house before I made them take them all down when I knew we were working together. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“But all the arguing…” You trailed off, still unable to completely process this information.

“Just because I love you doesn’t mean you don’t drive me up the wall, especially when you were being — or I believed you were — deliberately obtuse to my efforts to explain myself. But now I see we were just on totally different wavelengths.” You were really struggling, there was a lot of new information being revealed at such a rapid pace that was completely changing your perspective on your whole adolescence.

“You love me?” Lockwood did laugh this time, loudly and with the same charm he usually had.

“Yes, you idiot. I have since we were kids.”

Oh. Oh. You suddenly felt like an idiot. All of this time you thought that Lockwood believed you were weak, not good enough, not worthy of your successes, when in fact it was the complete opposite. And then you thought about how you felt about Lockwood. How his believed lack of faith in you affected you so much because you cared so deeply about what he thought of you. How you could never bring yourself to look away when he was fighting because he was so completely in his element. How nice it had been to be able to joke around with him during your research. Oh God. You thought you simply respected him and his skills as an agent, but evidently the truth had been just out of reach your whole life.

“Anthony?” He was already looking at you, eyes searching deep into your soul. “I think I might love you too.” Neither of you could help the kiddish smiles making their way on your faces, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly before you knew what was happening. It felt nice to be held by him again, the last time would have been after his sister died. These were much better circumstances.

When you both came down the stairs later, no one mentioned your intertwined hands. You all had a lovely dinner at Portland Row, warmth and laughter filling the space and making you feel at home like you used to when you were a kid.

It wasn’t until you were on your way back to the Fittes dorms that Sarah leaned over to you, mischievous grin on her face.

“Tell me you were making out up there, please,” She giggled, and you shoved her away lightheartedly.

“Shut up,” You laughed, “Besides, it wasn’t making out.”

[wonijinjin]

warm covers, sick cuddles

synopsis: you managed to get sick in the summer, what would be better than your dear boyfriend comforting you?

word count: 0.7k | genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship | pairing: wonwoo x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of symptoms of a common cold, wonwoo calls reader ‘sweetheart’

it was early in the morning when wonwoo woke up in your shared bed, the rain from a few hours ago still present on the sidewalks and trees. after sitting up he checked the time on his phone - 6:34 AM - then projected his attention in the direction of the other side of the bed; towards your sleeping form. the crisp morning evident on your skin in the form of goosebumps alarmed him to pull the blanket further above your body, as it had slipped away during the night. he was getting ready to leave the bed to make a surprise breakfast for you, but not without kissing your forehead. his lips touched your skin, and he halted his movements, furrowing his brows. your skin was too warm despite the chilly morning. he brushed away the hair which stuck to your face during your slumber, then placed his hand on your forehead properly, to his dismay sensing the same warmth he hoped was a fluke of his imagination.

when you awoke the sun was already up and shining, the emptiness of the bed next to you making wonwoo’s absence settle into your sleepy brain. you felt shivers run up your spine despite being under multiple layers of covers. just when you thought of getting up a tall figure appeared in the doorway. it was wonwoo, in his hands a fuzzy blanket; the one you bought together and loved the most, holding so many memories of cuddling while watching a movie, or draping it over each other when you waited patiently late into the night to welcome the other home, falling asleep on the couch in the process.

”good morning baby” you said, noticing how your voice sounded hoarse and strained. he left you without an answer, instead walking up to the bed and spreading the fuzzy material on the already existing layers of covers, crouching beside your tired form. “how do you feel sweetheart? you were cold weren’t you?” he asked in a gentle tone.

“how did you know?” you whispered, surprised.

“oh sweetie” he placed the back of his palm on your burning skin again “you are still quite warm, i think you are coming down with something, perhaps a flu. you were shivering when i checked on you, but i thought it was because of how early it was. guess it wasn’t the case judging by your voice and fever.” he stroked your hair gently, the way your face relaxed not going unnoticed by him.

“i don’t feel well wonwoo.” you said with a frown on your face. his eyes softened; he hated seeing you be so unwell. “my poor, sweet sweet baby.” he pouted, worry and care written all over his features. “i will bring you some medicine to help okay?”

“i should’ve expected it, i mean my immune system is not really resistant to the amount of ice cream i eat nowadays.” you joked, the pain in your throat getting stronger.

“i already set up some tea, it is still boiling hot, but when it cools down a bit i will bring it to you. what would you like for breakfast? i didn’t know if you would be up for it, but i made scrambled eggs and toast. i can make something different if that is what you would like.” he smiled, kissing your hairline. you grinned at this; he was so considerate, always taking such good care of you. “it sounds good, thank you.” it could’ve been anything he made for you, you still would’ve said yes. “then just wait here sweetheart, i will bring it to you with the medicine in a moment.” he was getting ready to leave when you grabbed him by the hand. “please, can you stay with me in bed for a bit before that? it can wait.” he kissed your hand and got under the covers, opening his arms, motioning for you to get closer. you landed in his arms, getting sleepier already, the sickness wearing your body out after being awake for such short amount of time. it didn’t take 5 minutes and you were already asleep, being protected by him and the blankets. he looked at your face, kissing your warm cheek, smiling to himself.

“i guess breakfast will be for lunch then.”

[justwonder113]

Showering Seungmin with affection Part 2

First part right here

Bang Chan; Lee Know ; Changbin; Hyunjin; Han; Felix; IN;

Summary: While wide awake thinking about your poor life choices and even poorer choice in men the least thing you expect is for Seungmin to call you and ask for your help. Warnings: Not really accurate to name, because to be honest I never once considered writing the second part while writing the first one but once I got all these requests about writing continuation I just knew I had to do it; LOADS of cursing, like really, I have no shame; Idiots in love; Reader is whipped but is in denial; Emotionaly reserved reader; Denial is a river in Egypt you are in love! Like really, reader really tries their best to fight it while also not? I hope it makes sense once you read it it's like 3 am I can't think better. Reader is an overthinker. Seungmin has a headache. Shy Seungmin for a moment (Coudln't help myself) I can't think of anything else, If I missed something please let me know. Unedited. Word count-3.5k

This was fucking ridiculous! To think that two whole months went by since your vocation and here you were at two am wide fucking awake still thinking about kissing Kim Seungmin!

You still had no idea what kind of bug bit you for you to ask so recklessly, but here you were still stressing over it. But, really why were you still thinking about it? It was in the past, you were both drunk, there was chemistry and tension so you made out end of story! Why were you making such a big deal out of it? Why now? Two months went by, both of you, mostly you,(no really, you) made a conscious decision to act like nothing happened. And if were were being honest this meant that you avoided Seungmin like the plague because you knew he wanted to talk.

Okay, you were not ignorant of your feelings, and, as much as you hated the mere idea of it you liked Kim Seungmin. No big deal, it's just a crush, it will surely go away pretty soon, you just need to wait.

Okay, you liked him, quite a lot, it wasn't just a crush and you absolutely hated the fact. Why him? Anyone would be a better choice but him! What the hell was wrong with you?! Here you were all pouty and shit because, despite the fact that you were the one avoiding him, you actually missed him. God, this was so ridiculous!

To be or not to be that is the question, well in your case the question is how to stop liking someone, because you were already sick of this shit. Also, to be real, there's no way things could work out between you two. You were always fighting and at each other's throats, you have said to each other most vile and meanest words ever in the heat of an argument. The point was, that there was no peace when you two were involved, you two always disagreed on everything and if you were to get into a relationship how would that work? You didn't want to fight back and forth with a person you call your boyfriend. It also didn't help that both of you were too fucking stubborn for your own good backing down was not in your dictionary. You didn't want to be in a relationship like that. Okay, relationship sounded too serious, you didn't even know if he liked you back. He was attracted to you to some extent but you didn't know how he actually felt towards you. You hated this the most, you never knew what he was thinking, what his deal was. He was a walking mystery. An open book at first sight but full of secrets once you got to know him. Maybe that's why you were drown to him, but was it a smart move from your side?

You didn't know what his deal was, whether he liked you back an that's why he kissed you back and taunted and flirted with you or whether this was one of his little games he liked to play. Even if his intentions were genuine, it wasn't like he was this villain mastermind bad guy, you didn't feel like you could be at ease with him and security in relationship was something you deeply valued. And If he was actually pulling something you would walk right into his trap and in the fit of rage you would have to murder him, and going into prison wasn't your go to plan in the near future at least.

Why did he have to be so confusing? Literally things would be so much easier if were to fall for someone else, literally anyone, but no, you had to be difficult.

He made you question everything and it really terrified you.

You sighed and turned into your bed. Fucking Kim Seungmin making you stay up this late at night, even while not here he managed and pissed you off. You did wonder what was he up to? Probably sleeping, any sane person would be asleep right now.

Maybe he was up thinking about you too?

Okay you were feeding your delusions now. There's no way he would lose a minute of sleep for you. It would be fun though if you were tormenting him like he was tormenting you right now.

That being said your phone lit up from incoming call, and what shocked you more was to see that the little devil himself was calling you.

Did you manifest this? Should you pick up? No way. What was he thinking calling you at this ungodly hour? You were not even close! You could pretty much be asleep and seeing your seventh dream of the night right now. What a selfish prick!

You still picked up the phone, and tried to sound as groggy as you could, acting as if he woke you up(fuck principles I guess). "Why the fuck are you awake?" His quiet chuckle made you pout even more, you could clearly imagine him smiling at his phone being all cute and shit and it made you even more huffy now.

"I could ask you the same thing sunshine." He purred clearly amused.

"I was asleep thank you very much." You sighed maybe he really needed your help and that's why he was calling. "Someone better be dying."

"First of all I know you're awake Your lights are on, and well about someone dying, would it still matter if the dying person was me?"

You shot out of bed, phone still in your hand and ran towards your window. Seungmin immediately saw you and waved at you small smile adorning his face. You wanted to question him but before you could ask he started talking, "I didn't know where else to go." You didn't know what to say.

"Come inside."

Seungmin agreed and you hung up. You had no clue what was going on. If it was an emergency why did he come to you? You could never understand him! You quickly looked around if there was anything out of place not that you had time to tidy up. Thankfully you cleaned up the house, insomnia sometimes had it's perks.

After hearing a soft knock you rushed to your door and opened it. Seungmin looked a bit pale but other than that nothing was out of ordinary. He had a blank face which was confusing you even more. "I bought you snacks." he showed you a packet full of your favourite goodies. Did he actually know they were your favorite? Was this a coincidene? Did he also happened to have a great taste? Were you overthinking a bag of snacks?-Probably.

"Thank you for the offer, I shall grant you passage." You tried to sound as dramatic as possible, Seungmin smiled at you. Weirdo. After letting him in the house you examined him again, but still nothing was out of normal. You let him sit on the couch while you sat in front of him. The silence was so awkward that you started munching on one of the snacks. You offered him some, but he softly shook his head. "What's wrong?"

"Are you worried about me?" He gasped softly as if he coudln't believe what he was hearing. He was spending way too much time with Hyunjin, all dramatic and for what?" You decided to take the matter into your hands.

"No I just want to know what to tell the police if you really do die in my house." Seungmin gave you a small smile again. You coudln't name what was off but he really didn't look like himself today.

You slowly approached him not breaking the eye contact, quietly asking for consent to touch him. He looked at you with wide eyes, not saying anything, you softly touched his cheeks, then his forehead, you even touched your own forehead to make sure but no he didn't have a fever. His eyes were a bit more red and slightly irritated and, as you said, he looked paler than usual. "What's wrong?" He looked at you but quickly looked away as if he couldn't look you in the eyes. He almost looked bashful.

After a while he muttered out something about a headache and how he couldn't sleep at all.

"God I can't believe you, you should have called not go all the way to come here or you could have called a doctor! You could've bought some painkillers instead of worrying about bringing snacks! God Seungmin!" You kept yapping about how dangerous it was for him to wander around while in pain and everything, but on the inside you kind of hoped he knew that you were not mad, just worried.

"I know, I just"-he paused thinking over his next words, "I knew I had to see you. I didn't know where else to go. At first I went out to clear my head, next thing I knew I was in front of your house." He looked like he really was in pain.

You two sat in silence for a minute or two, you were about to get up to get some painkillers for him and maybe some hot tea but he stopped you, well more likely looked at you with pleading eyes and you just couldn't move.

"Can I hug you?" You must have been visibly stunned because he quickly backed down. "I'm sorry I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. God! I don't even know what I'm doing and..." You didn't let him finish his ramble, as if your body moved on its own, you sat beside him and softly wrapped your hands around him, slowly bringing him against your body as if he was fragile and could break any moment. Seungmin Immediately relaxed once he rested his head on your shoulder and also wrapped his hands around your waist. You let him be. It felt like your heart would jump right out of your ribcage and despite being terrified that he could also hear just what he did to you, you felt weirdly at peace holding him like this. You must have lost your mind. A minute ago you were preaching yourself how you should stay away from him and how you and him had no job being together. How ironic.

You just sat there holding each other, you didn't even know how much time you spent like this, both of you barely moving, just you sometimes patting his shoulder as if to remind him that you were with him and maybe also because you liked touching him. With every little pat he squeezed you a little, which, not going to lie, you found endearing.

Some more moments passed before he decided that it was time to start talking. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

He sighed, his breath his breath hitting your neck made you shiver. He straightened up, it was weird letting him go, it felt like you were missing something.

"You made it clear that you didn't want to deal with me after that night..." -He paused and looked away, it was really dark in the room illuminated by only one lamp so maybe you were just being delusional, but was he blushing? - " and here I am now, disturbing you... I should go." He got up and started heading to the door but you stopped him.

"Where are you going?" He looked at you all baffled and confused, he looked much more awake right now.

"Home?" He sounded so unsure. You quickly shook your head.

"You're staying here, it's late and you're in pain. There's no way I am letting you go!" You stated sternly, he looked really ashamed which made you soften up a little. "Listen I know things got messy between us after that night and I shouldn't have just avoided you like that, but you need to stay here. That or we're going to a nearby clinic! There's no way I am leaving you alone. Better choose wisely." He looked unsure, but once he saw that you were not going to back down he gave in.

"Okay you win." He was clearly unamused to say this words, you, on the other hand were literally thriving.

"Of course I do." He wanted to say something back but you didn't let him. You started leading him back inside "Listen up big guy, I am going to make you a tea, were going to eat some snacks and you're going to take some painkillers and then we're going to sleep sound good?"

"As you wish sunshine." He had his goofy smile on. It totally didn't make your heart do a backflip, not at all.

You got to work, you sat him down on the sofa while you started preparing things. Soon enough you were happily munching on your snacks with some hot tea. Seungmin seemed like he was in a better mood he even teased you for almost burning yourself with hot water. Well of course after fretting over you like a worried mother hen and making sure you were all right. It was like you were seeing a whole new side of him, it was different and you liked it. You felt calm sitting here with him, calm, just existing. It felt kind of domestic. It reminded you when you were laying in snow then just watching snow fall on the ground. It was a miracle you didn't catch a cold. You couldn't imagine you could do mundane things like this with him, without fighting, without the urge to strangle him to shut him up.

Once you were done and Seungmin did admit that he was feeling better it was time to go to bed, which was when things got a little bit awkward.

"I will sleep on the couch, I don't want to disturb you more than I already have." You rolled your eyes why was he still yapping about disturbing you and stuff.

"Sure if you want backpain along with your headache. We're both adults, I think we can sleep in the same bed. It's not a big deal." Yup you were totally fine with this. Absolutely, yes, of course! You were going to sleep in the same bed as him, no biggie. Who were you even kidding? You were absolutely dying inside. How did you manage to find yourself into this situation was beyond you. It was late to back down now. You already blurted this out, so you should stick to it.

You quickly left him to get him some clothes to change into, Yes, you ran away, but you preferred to call it a tactical retreat.

Here you were now tho, nowhere to run, in the same bed as him, with him just laying there in your oversized t-shirt and looking at you with confused eyes. Why did he have to look at you like that? It was enough you felt like the butterflies in your stomach were like breakdancing sumo wrestlers, but this? Was he always this adorable? His cheeks looked wxtra dquishy, his eyes looked extra sparkly, his lips... extra kissable.

This was too much! You felt bipolar from the way you wanted to feel his lips against yours again and kiss him sensless while also wanting to run away from here because you were scared you were actually going to do it.

"I don't get you sometimes." He muttered out and turned fully towards you, his gaze was so intense you thought you felt it burn your skin. For a second you felt afraid he knew what you were thinking just now.

It makes two of us-you thought, while you were complaining not getting what his deal was, you also couldn't fully understand what you were getting at right now. It felt like your every move was contradicting each other, and this push and pull situation you were creating was also starting to bother you.

Based on your lack of reaction Seungmin decided to continue talking his voice low, almost whispering. "You say that laying in the same bed is no big deal and here you are about to fall out of bed trying to stay far from me as possible yet at the same time look at me with this lovint eyes, you said that us kissing wasn't a big deal, but you spend next two months avoiding even breathing near me. Do you hate the idea of us being something this much?" You finally turned and looked into his eyes, full of longing waiting for your answer, pleading with you. You knew you had to say the truth. You couldn't run out of this one.

"I'm confused and scared" you hated how vulnarable you felt, how open, but you felt like you just had to say this. Not for him, not really, but for you. For once you wanted to show to tell just what you were feeling. Just truth without any filters, without altering it.

Seungmin held your hand, the warm touch of his hand made you feel even more vulnerable but at least somewhat grounded. You were grateful for the ounce of courage it gave you. "I'm scared too. I've never felt more confused in my life. I couldn't sleep or eat normally for days, why do you think that night didn't affect me too? All I can think about it you! What are you up to, what are you doing? What are you thinking. Every little thing reminds me of you. I felt like shit today, and the only person I could think of was you, I knew I had to see you. I haven't even realized when I started walking. I was in my house laying awake in my bed. The next thing I knew, I was in front of your house with a bad full of snacks I know you love. I didn't even know I knew these things about you. At least I wasn't aware of it." He sighed as if trying not to stray away from his course and calm himself he looked into your eyes again, his hand tightly holding yours. "Let's start by simple things. We don't have to rush anything. I like you, a lot. I don't regret at all making out with you that night. I like you. Maybe I feel even more, but I won't use that word now. Neither of us is ready." It was like you forgot how to brethe. You never expected Seungmin to open up like to you. Maybe this was all a dream, but since when were dreams so realistic?

Seungmin smiled at you, maybe he noticed something about you that you haven't noticed yet. "I know we've mixed up the order, according to our friends we've bickered like an old married couple, we've made out and well I'm literally in your bed right now," you couldn't help but laugh at his comment, you smacked his arm with your free hand. "What I'm saying is that we've messed up order of things, yes, but I want to make things right between us. What do you say about giving us a chance? Will you go out with me?" God what a dork, you couldn't help but smile.

"Can I hug you?" Seungmin clearly didn't expect to be hit with the same question he asked you when he got here, but despite his surprise, he immediately opened his arms. Feeling a bit brave, you scooted closer and got between his arms. It felt nice, his arms holding you tight, his head on top of yours, your face on his chest feeling the warmth of his skin through soft material of his (your) shirt. The shirt smelled like your laundry detergent but it already started smelling like Seungmin and it soothed you. You had no idea when did you associate his smell with comfort but you were not mad about it. You also felt how hard his heart was beating. You weren't delusional after all huh.

"You better take me to a nice place on our date Seungmin. Don't make me regret giving us a chance." You could've said it better but this was all you mastered to mutter out. Seungmin hugged you tighter, now even enterwinning your legs together. You felt at peace. Like everything was at it's place right now.

"Wouldn't even dream of it sunshine." He kissed your forehead. You looked up at him. He looked really cute with his cheek smushed up on your pillow, with messy hair and with your shirt. You couldn't help but lean in and softly seal your lips together which were as soft and nice as you remembered.

You had a feeling you wouldn't really regret giving you two a chance, you just had to wait and see.

A/N- I can't believe I have finished writing this. It's definitely more different than I usually write and I really hope you'll like it. Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

[queenofmistresses]

adam x dom!reader where he makes a sexist, misogynistic comment about you so you have to teach him a lesson and decided to make him suck your strap and maybe he cums from it? untouched and truly pathetic

A/n thanks for the request lovely! I hope you enjoyy sorry it took a little while!

Warnings: dubious consent but only lightly - she’s quite forceful but he does agree to it. Slapping, strap sucking (obviously), adam is a dick at the start, let me know if i missed anything!!

“Look it’s just a fact, and I should know as the original dick.” He winks, “Women are naturally submissive. That’s how God made them.” I snort at his incredibly stupid logic.

“Remind me again why your first wife left you?” I sneer at him, watching as he now breaks eye contact and stutters over his words searching for a response. Ever since he came to hell he’s been acting like an entitled brat and I’ve had enough. I’ve made more entitled men than him apologise for their ignorance and Adam is not going to be an exception.

That same day Charlie treats everyone at the hotel to a night out, letting me and angel dust take the lead to take care of everyone since we know the scene a bit better than… well… all of them. Angel enlists Husks’ help in watching over Nifty and I take care of Adam. Which makes my plans a lot easier.

I have a couple shots, letting myself loosen up a little, I watch Adam do the same. I don’t drink much though, and don’t let Adam either, not wanting to be too out of it tonight. For once I let Adam flirt with me, biting my tongue and holding back the roll of my eyes as he spouts nonsense.

I start getting flirtatious back, even a little touchy, and I have to admit to myself that I am enjoying it. After a little while of back and forth I indicate towards the sex room, not waiting for an answer, and pick up my bag before walking into the room. I hear him flail behind me to keep up, almost like a puppy.

He shuts the door and before he has time to make any stupid remarks (which I can see on his even more stupid face that he’s about to) I reach into my bag and pull out my strap on, effectively stopping any movement from him. His mouth is agape for a moment but he seems to try and form some words as his mouth opens and closes periodically. “I would prefer if you’d stay silent.” I say, as calm and cooly as I can. He seems to listen because his mouth clamps shut and he nods. Maybe this would be easier than I thought. “Good.” I say.

I place my bag down, leaving just the strap on in my hands now, investigating it as if I hadn’t seen it many times before. “I’ve made a decision.” I decide to start with, barely grabbing his attention away from the silicone cock in my hand. “You need to be taught a lesson.” His head shoots up to look at me dead in the eyes, though I’m not sure whether he looks more scared or aroused. “Ever since you came here you’ve been acting like a teenage boy and treating me, and everyone else here like shit. I won’t put up with it.” I watch his throat bob and a sick pleasure courses through me. “I’ve taken it upon myself to show you how things work around here, and how things are going to work here,” I indicate towards the two of us, “from now on.”

His face looks completely flushed, and I don’t have to look for long to see how hard he is under his clothes. I scoff and walk towards him, “How does that sound whore?” I whisper cruelly up at him, watching as he nods enthusiastically without hesitation, almost as if he’s lost his own sense of self-control. “Use your words.” I say sternly.

“Please.” He breathes out pathetically, making me smirk as he shudders.

I tell him to strip himself out of all of his clothes, which he does rapidly, as I put the strap on myself. Once he stands completely naked in front of me I look at him properly. I can feel him looking at me too. “Good. Now, you are going to get onto your fucking knees and suck my strap until I decide you’ve done enough.”

I watch as he kneels down in front of me, not allowing him to break eye contact. He shuffles forwards until he’s close to me, and I see him hesitate. “Well? What are you waiting for?” His throat bobs for a moment before he moves his head forward, taking the tip into his mouth. He sucks on it gently and looks up at me, almost like he wants me approval. I roll my eyes, “You’re pathetic. Surely you know how to suck cock properly? Or should I find some other whore who knows how to actually do it?”

That seems to spur him on as his widens his mouth to take more of it, filling his mouth. Now he’s sucking my cock like he means it. Like he’s been waiting for this. Maybe he has. I smirk as he closes his eyes and brings a hand up to rub the base of the cock that he can’t fit it into his mouth. I can see that he’s rutting against the carpet as he does, “God you like this don’t you? I bet you’ve fantasised about being used as a cockwhore every day of your pathetic life.” This only makes him moan as he ruts his hips faster, chasing a release.

He tries to take my cock further down his throat but he ends up choking on it, though that doesn’t stop him. I reach my hand forward and grab by his hair, tight. “Relax your throat.” He does, staring up at me, and I slowly push his head further into my cock, watching it go further. Tears pool out of his eyes and fuck he looks amazing like this.

I reach into my pocket with my other hand and turn the camera on. As I point the camera towards him and press record, I see his hips get faster and rougher as he looks straight at the camera. “You are going to make the best fucktoy Adam sweetie. So fucking easy, just begging to be used by me.” His eyes roll back as he desperately tries to keep sucking on my cock as his hips stutter and I can see that he’s finished.

I keep recording as I slide my cock out of his throat and kneel down to be eye level with him. He’s panting but he still meets my eyes. I bring my hand up to hold his chin gently before I let go to bring my hand to slap his cheek. Hard. “Next time, you fucking ask before you cum. You’re worthless and if you can’t even control yourself then I have no use for you.” I practically growl out at him.

“Y-yes miss.” He stutters out just barely. I stroke his cheek softly and smile at him.

“See isn’t this so much better? I much prefer you like this, and I bet all our friends back at the hotel will too.” He nods at me, his mouth gaped open as I run my hands through his hair. “Good boy.”

[imaginepirates]

An Unexpected Reunion

Essentially, this is a sort of sic-fic for an anon who wanted to see the reader look after James. After his stint in Tortuga, when he doesn't have the strength to care for himself, he ends up on the Pearl, and the reader helps him out. The two just so happen to be previously acquainted—the reader is a pirate James once had in custody. Mild angst ensues.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @viper-official @hellspawn-brownies @groovy-lady @ghoulishbehaviour @wordsinwinters

~3k words

~~~~~~~

If you knew one thing about former Commodore James Norrington it was this: he did not know how to take a break. 

Even now, as you watched him struggle to keep upright, he didn’t quite seem to understand the disadvantage he was at. He wavered, leaning hard on the ship’s rail before trying to stand on his own. He convulsed a little, as if he might throw up, and though you wouldn’t have been surprised, a fresh wave of pity rolled over you. 

You had feared him, once. Done your best to keep out from under his iron grasp of the law. You’d failed, too. Other than Elizabeth, you were the person aboard the Pearl who knew him best. I knew his prison cells, too, you reminded yourself. 

He looked up at you, and you made eye-contact. There was a foggy recognition in his face, and you watched the gears in his head turn as he attempted to make sense of who you were. 

“Am I that hard to remember?” You walked toward him, hoping he wouldn’t fall on you. “I’m offended,” you teased. 

Norrington looked you over with disgust, as if he were in a position to do so. “I arrested you.”

“I’m flattered you recall.”

He frowned. “You escaped.

“I hope that’s not a sore spot?”

Norrington shot you a venomous glare, though there didn’t seem to be much actual hatred behind it. Oh, it had been one for the ages. The escape had been anything but easy, you’d give him that, and most of it had been the opportunity of chance, but you were one of the few, if perhaps the only, pirate to have escaped the young officer. You’d hoped never to see him again, to boast your tale without being  caught a second time. You’d even left the Caribbean for a time to evade him. Now Jack shared your fame, though on a technicality, you knew, and here poor Norrington had to put up with you both. 

You’d never expected to meet him again, and certainly not like this, brought so low. You hadn’t even known the world was capable of bringing a man like him to his knees. 

“You look like you just crawled out of a pigsty.” You frowned, hoping you weren’t right. 

Norrington smirked, an expression you’d never seen on the man, and it was not a particularly pleasant thing to see. “Sparrow employs from interesting places.”

You sighed. “At least let me help you not look like hell?”

“What would you care?” Norrington cast you a suspicious glance, though he let you wrap a stabilizing arm around his shoulders. 

“You didn’t let me look like shit when it was your ship I was on,” you mumbled, somewhat reluctantly. 

In truth, James Norrington had taken shockingly good, if not necessarily tender, care of you while you were his prisoner. It may have been humiliating at times; being ordered to wash, getting inspected by the ship’s surgeon, and having your hair shorn to prevent lice; but it had kept you healthy, and, in Norrington’s reasoning, kept you alive until your due time at the gallows. That, and rendering you incapable of getting his crew sick. Though you had cursed his name every day, you knew he hadn’t needed to go to such lengths. 

Surprise crossed the man’s face, but he said nothing. You helped him belowdecks to a rather empty store room, bracing him on the stairs to keep him upright. You left him a moment, returning with a basin of water, some cloth, and a comb, hoping that it might do something for his raggedy appearance. 

“The wig has to go.” 

James snatched it off his head, regarding the thought with reluctance. “It’s one of the last reminders of home.”

“Which is half the reason you need to get rid of it,” you said, tone softening. You took it from his hands, setting it out of sight. “It’ll only make you more miserable.” You pushed the coat off his shoulders as well; it was well overdue for a meeting with a washing board.

For a while, you stood in silence, James letting you wash his face with the cloth, trying to get mud out of his hairline. He scrubbed down his shins and forearms, rolling up tattered sleeves to expose newly tanned skin. There were scars there, too, old ones and new, and you remembered an occupation in the Navy was every bit as dangerous as piracy was. 

“You gave me one of those.” Norrington interrupted the silence, rubbing his thumb over a small scar on his left arm. “Capturing you wasn’t as easy as planned. You nearly gave me another, too, when you tried biting me.”

You laughed, taken aback. You’d forgotten about it—you lashed out at him when he made the surgeon wash and cut your hair. 

“It wasn’t funny,” he said, but he was smiling all the same. “I thought you were going to take off a finger.”

“Oh, I wanted to. I do hope you aren’t thinking of returning the favor.”

“Does this mean my hair is next?”

“It certainly does. I’m going to have to pull all manner of debris out of it, aren’t I? Maybe I should’ve grabbed gloves.”

James snorted. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor.”

“I could say the same about you.” You moved to stand behind him where he sat on a barrel, taking the comb in your hands and gently teasing knots out of the ends of his hair. 

James’ voice sobered. “Why are you doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you have every reason to hate me. I held you as my captive, and when you escaped, I spent months trying to hunt you down. If you hadn’t managed to evade me, I would’ve been your ticket to the gallows. I might as well have been the noose around your neck myself.”

You sucked in a breath, unprepared for the question. Not that you hadn’t expected it. Why am I helping him? “You were doing your job, I was doing mine. I’m glad you failed.”

“That still doesn’t explain—”

“Look,” you interrupted. “I’d heard all the stories. When you’re a pirate, and you get arrested, the Navy does all sorts of things to you. You beat us, you maim us, you starve and strip and use us as entertainment. As long as we’re still alive to dance the hangman’s jig at the end, you can do whatever you want to us.” You’d stopped combing, and you could tell, despite the fact that you couldn’t see his face, Norrington was listening intently. “You could have done all sorts of things to me, or let your men have their way.” Your voice grew soft again. “The worst thing you did was cut off my hair. Turns out I had lice anyway, so I probably should’ve thanked you for it.”

James turned to look at you, mouth half open to say anything, but there wasn’t anything to say. His gaze returned to his boots, and you couldn’t help but notice the tightness in his jaw. 

You changed the subject. “How long has it been since you’ve kept a meal down?”

“Too long,” he grimaced. “I’m afraid the rum has done its job.”

“Do you want me to get you something? You can wash the rest of yourself while I’m away.”

James only nodded, but you took that as a good enough sign to go in search of food. Ships didn’t carry much fresh food, but if you could find bread without weevils in it, you might be able to keep him from throwing up. 

You raided the kitchen, tapping biscuits against the wall to loose any bugs that may have burrowed into them. Before you headed back, you rested against the wall, taking a few steadying breaths. You didn’t like talking about your captivity, and you could never fully justify taking care of him. He was right: he might as well have been the hangman and the noose. 

“How’s the former Commodore?” Jack stood in front of you, teasing expression firmly in place. 

“Much better now that I’ve tossed the wig.”

Jack made a face at the mention of the wig. He’d made more than a few comments about how ‘that damned Commodore would be far more handsome without the stupid thing’. “I’m thinking about tossing him out entirely.”

“Jack.” You crossed your arms. 

“What?”

“Why did you agree to let him on, anyway?”

“I wouldn’t say I agreed, love. Agreements aren’t made at gunpoint.”

Norrington still wants him dead, then. “And yet he hasn’t gone through with it.”

Jack shrugged, as if he hadn’t given the matter much thought. You knew better, of course. He turned to leave, but not before throwing a comment over his shoulder. “He’s not a killer.”

By the time you got back to James, he had his hair mostly untangled and was struggling to find a way to keep it out of his face. You stepped in, handing him the bread and braiding his hair back with practiced fingers. There was a weight to the action, and you felt it acutely, twisting strands of long, damp hair together, surprised by its length, wondering how Norrington could’ve kept it tucked under his wig like this, and you knew he felt it too. 

“Eat,” you told him. “And try not to puke on me.”

He stuck the bread skeptically in his mouth, as if expecting it to taste like the bottom of a muddy boot. It was somewhat awkward to watch him, but you were right to keep your focus on him; it wasn’t long before he had his eyes closed against an obvious wave of nausea. You placed a hand on his back, rubbing his shoulder gently in hopes that it might distract him. 

“I must seem pathetic like this.”

“You’ve seen me pretty low, too, so I can hardly judge.” James scoffed, but didn’t pull away from your touch. 

“At least you had it in you to escape. Which,” he turned to you, eyebrows raised, “you never have explained to me.”

“Has that been bothering you all these years?” You couldn’t help but feel somewhat smug, knowing you got the best of a man who was, by all means, smarter than you, and who’d had many more resources on hand. 

“Obviously,” he drawled, though he seemed more amused than embarrassed.

“Well, it was mostly luck. You had me locked up pretty tight.” That was an understatement. Beyond the obvious fact that you’d been behind bars, thick ones at that, there were two guards posted outside the brig at all times. Not to mention the leagues between you and any sign of shore. You may have been a fairly good pirate, but those were bad odds. 

It had been the mailing ship, in the end, that had been your key to salvation. “I’ll forever be thankful that your holding cells had—and still have—one major flaw, not that I’m telling you what it is.” At James look of annoyance, you smiled. “Sorry. Old habits and all that.” Half pin-barrel hinges, you thought to yourself before continuing. “I also, through virtue of talking marines, knew the mail carrier had shown up. It gave me just the blossom of hope, and the opportunity, I needed.”

The door guards reduced from two to one as one of them headed off, presumably in the direction of mail. And why should they have worried? You hadn’t been able to cause any trouble, even when you were taken out of your cell for inspection by the ship’s surgeon. So that left you with one marine to deal with, and one iron door to pop off its hinges, which you did with the conveniently placed bench inside your cell. 

The clattering of the door got the marine running into the room, leaving the door to the brig wide open for your escape. All it took was an elbow to the gut and a knee to the face and the poor man was on the ground. You’d almost felt bad about it. Almost. But you saved your pity and ran like hell, scurrying up to one of the gun decks before anyone knew you were missing. 

“Then came the tricky part,” you mused. “I had to jump out of a gun port without anyone noticing, then scramble onto the mail carrier somehow. By all accounts it shouldn’t have worked.” But something had happened on deck which caught quite a bit of attention, and you were left to plop into the ocean below. “I’d never been so happy to be swimming in my life. I made it onto one of the lower decks of the other ship, through another gunport, and hid in a storage room until it reached St. Augustine.”

James grimaced. “You have no idea the strings I had to pull to get my men into that city.”

You shrugged. St. Augustine was a Spanish city, and you had no doubt tensions between Norrington and the city officials had run high. “I was already out by then. Seems those strings weren’t pulled fast enough.”

“No.” Your hand still sat on his back, though he’d managed to finish the bread. A light sheen of sweat dotted his forehead, a symptom you’d known to expect from an alcoholic, and you reached for the washcloth to wipe it away. “What if they had been?” His tone took on a miserable note.

You wiped the cloth across his face, your free hand gently holding the side of his head still. “Then you would have caught me, and I would be dead.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it?” You moved to the back of his neck, where sweat had begun to run into his shirt collar. “We led lives that were diametrically opposed. We both knew what that meant. I ran that risk willingly.”

You continued with the cloth, never dropping the hand from his head, and though it may have been your imagination, he seemed to lean into the touch. You wondered how long it had been since anyone had shown him a hint of tenderness—since before his arrival in Tortuga? Longer?

James changed the subject. “Once you’re done making sure I’m not puking on myself, what do you plan to do with me?”

“Do with you?” You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t plan to do anything with you—or to you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You didn’t miss the flush that crept up his neck at your teasing. You found it kind of sweet, if anything, that he continued to have the bashful streak Elizabeth had told you so much about. “I hope you’ll consider staying around more than a week so I can get to know you better, though.”

“You do?” He turned to you, his surprise genuine. It hurt you a little to see, but you supposed it was to be expected. If your roles were reversed, would he be saying the same?

“You’ve been given a unique opportunity, Ex-Commodore. You have the chance to start over with a group of people who don’t particularly like you, and you have the chance to make a home with them. We can be a close-knit group, you know, us pirates.” You smiled. “I’d take that chance if I were you.”

“I’m not sure I have much of a choice. The admiralty wants my head.”

“Better give them a good reason for it, then.”

James laughed at that, and some of the heaviness in the air dissipated. He looked markedly better now that he’d relaxed and some of the color had returned to his face. He could even be handsome, you supposed. You hadn’t let yourself think of it during your capture, though he had looked dashing in that uniform, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you heard multiple women had eyed him with eager interest back in Port Royal.

He’d been a different man then. You couldn’t help the serious tone that crept into your voice as you spoke. “You’ll take better care of yourself after this, yes?”

He sighed. “I don’t suppose I have much of a choice in that, either. I can’t really make things worse.”

The words did nothing to assure you. “You owe it to yourself, you know.” Your hand had fallen from his face, but you placed it there again, drawing his eyes to yours. “No matter what happens to you, no matter how low you think you’ve gotten, you still deserve your own care.”

James looked too lost for words, instead turning away shyly with no little amount of shame. 

“Hey,” you softened your voice. “You’ll learn. Here, with us. Most of the crew have spent their entire lives looking out for themselves. And we’re the lowest of the low; the poorest, the drunkest, the most battered and beaten and worn. We still take care of ourselves, even when we sometimes wash up in the brig of a Naval ship. We’ll teach you how to quit carrying shame.”

James looked back up at you, nodding. He kept your hand in place with one of his, callouses from his palm brushing against your skin. You ran your fingers through his hair with your other hand, gently carding through dark tresses, and when he closed his eyes, you could feel him suppressing tears. 

He took a steadying breath, bracing himself before he could open his eyes. “Thank you. For all of this. I hope I can repay you for it, someday.”

“Given the shitty circumstances under which we tend to look after each other, let’s hope not, actually.”

He smiled wearily, and you moved to sit on a barrel across from him. The voyage ahead was long and likely not without its dangers, and having Norrington as a friend through it all didn’t seem like a terrible prospect.

As you talked on, sharing stories as sailors did, you knew he’d make it. Of course he would. A man who had the dedication to chase you across the Caribbean for months had it in him to live with you for a few weeks. You’d already survived each other once. 

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Five

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I appreciate your support as this story progresses. Make sure to check every two weeks for an update! Honestly, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have continued this story because it's just so messed up, but even so, thank you once again.

Chapter Warnings: Larys Strong jump scare

"Let me out of here!" You screamed, pounding on the guest chamber doors. "What is wrong with you, people? You have no reason to keep me here!"

Ma must have been worried to death by now, scowering across Kings Landing and pulling any strings she could. How had you been so stupid? So immature to follow a strange man that could put you in chains if he so wished. Ma was right. She had always been right about everything, and you were too caught up in your selfish desires to see it.

Aegon was a sick and twisted man. A vile, wretched, disgusting creature to ever be blessed by The Mother. You slammed your fists into the solid wooden doors as you felt pain radiate up your arms, willing them to burst open. You refused to sit ideally and become Aegon's plaything. You slept in a room next to the women who were, seeing what men like him do.

You were unashamed by the tears that streaked your cheeks, the snot that ran down your lip, and the back of your throat. Anyone being kept as a High-Born prisoner would feel the same way.

You couldn't wrap your mind around it-- around everything that had happened in the past days. Your absent father coming to pay you a visit, the heated argument with Ma, Aegon whisking you away for a night of fun and debauchery.

Nothing made sense. You were the daughter of a dead whore and a loafer, raised by a brothel madam on the streets of Flea Bottom. The Targaryen madness people gossiped about must be true; Aegon was proof of it.

The fight refused to die out, kicking at the doors as your sore arms shook. Your leathered foot nearly collided with a man as the doors opened, his cane stopping you. You were stunned, not expecting to have your freedom given to you so soon, but that hope did not last long as they locked behind your guest.

"Who are you," you questioned the limp man heatedly, ready to throw hands at any moment.

"Forgive me, my lady," he bowed, his body leaning onto his intricate stick. "I am Lord Larys of House Strong," he answered politely as if he were speaking to royalty.

"You say that as if it means something to me," you quipped. Lord Strong walked further into your prison chambers, tired from standing so long and resting on a plush armchair. He smiled as he sat, inviting you to the one opposite him, but your feet stood planted, arms crossed.

"I do not expect it to, my lady. Being the younger, unimportant brother of House Strong is not a trait many people consider to be remarkable." He spoke in riddles as if he knew something you didn't and was proud of it, disdain hidden within his messages.

"You are Ser Harwin 'Breakbones' brother," you said more for yourself than anything.

"Yes, my late brother," he answered, bowing his head in respect. He showed all the proper body language of someone in mourning, but you could not hear a whisper of sadness. You tilted your head, stepping closer to him but leaving enough room away from his cane if need be.

"Ah yes," you smiled mirthfully, squinting your eyes as you studied him. "Your sudden inheritance of Harrenhal must have come as quite a shock. Your poor family finally meeting the Stranger. But how fortunate for you, I suppose."

If it were any other circumstance, speaking to a Lord as this would end with a flogging, perhaps a missing tongue, to ensure you never made the same mistake again. But this was nothing of the ordinary.

He chuckled sarcastically, shifting his cane as he shook his head. Lord Larys was not a man to be trusted. He embodied everything your fellow common folk poked fun at during the drinking hour. He had a pompous attitude, like he knew more than everyone around him, with elegant dark clothing and short, well-trimmed hair. The only difference was that he did not seem one for gossip and parties. You assumed it was because of his deformity, nobles not wanting to be around such a "cripple."

Lord Larys didn't need a sword or army to conquer his enemies. He only need a few moments within the conversation background, a few slips of secrets into one's ear to cause chaos. That was what made him dangerous.

"I enjoy your sense of humor," he laughed, looking underneath his lashes at you, "it reminds me greatly of someone I know. Perhaps you will meet him soon." He laughed again, a joke you were not in on.

"Speak plainly, Lord Strong; I tire of your games."

Oh, you so greatly reminded him of that certain someone.

He hummed, slouching back into the chair and lifting his lousy leg to cross over the other. "I know your stay here in the Red Keep is not voluntary," he began, and you rolled your eyes. "I wanted to be the first to speak with you. Become a sort of confidant, my lady."

"I have no need to align myself with you. You have nothing of value," you quipped, pacing to sit in the chair across from him. The man was intelligent. He could read body language like a traditional Westerosi book, writing notes in the margin of his mind for later,

"Then, let me be the first to water our newly planted friendship," Lord Larys grinned, looking away for a moment as he thought of his next word carefully. "You wish to know why you are being kept here, yes?" You refused to answer, only scowling at his smug figure.

"They believe you are the bastard child of Prince Daemon Targaryen," said plainly. You threw your head back in a laugh as your hands went to your beating chest.

"You wish to start our friendship with a lie? Men are truly unbelievable." You shook your head as your mind returned to the King's eldest son. "Did Aegon put you up to this?" You asked suddenly, not finding the humor in this anymore.

"Of course not, my lady. Do you genuinely believe I would lie to you? I, a man at a significant disadvantage, am begging for the allyship of a Princess. As a young girl being thrown into a den of vipers, surely you would want a knife to cut off the heads?"

"Not when the very hand who gave it to me was one of them. The hilt laced with poison." Lord Larys stood, using his cane for support as he slowly made his way over to you, his lips in a tight purse.

"I do hope you consider my offer. It would be advantageous for us both to become allies, not enemies."

His words hung in the thick air, an ominous feeling sinking into your stomach as he left the room, the door latching behind him. He only left you more confused, your heart nearly beating out of your chest as you tried the door one more time.

You were the daughter of Daemon Targaryen, his firstborn, his bastard with black hair and brown eyes, the child of a dead whore, a member of House Targaryen.

You were a dragon born of fire and blood.

You should have been running around the marketplace this time of day, stealing until your pockets bulged with fruits as the City Watchmen struggled to keep up with you, but instead, you sat in the great armchair inside a gilded cage, staring out of the pane-glass windows.

You never imagined yourself as someone who would miss the foul stench of small folk in high summer, but here you sat, your chin resting on your hand as your nose was filled with the sick smells of amber and ash. To those who were not trapped in the palace, they would welcome the scents, but you, it only made your head hurt.

You needed to return home and find some way to escape these impenetrable stone walls, chisel teeth, and nails if necessary, but what would happen once you returned home? You were still in Kings Landing, where they could easily find you. Perhaps Essos or the North, where you could find your mother's family? They still had jurisdiction over the areas, but if you were far enough away...

The doors burst open without warning, a guard in armor you had not seen before marching into your elegant cell. He bowed his head, raising an arm across his breastplate as he announced your small gaggle of handmaids' arrival, leaving without another word.

You stared at them blankly, partially because you were still upset about being confined to this room and partly because you had no idea what to say. They saw you as royalty and not some common girl, treating you with respect someone of your raised status was not accustomed to.

"My name is Sara, your grace," she curtsied. Her voice matched her appearance. Seemingly around your age, with fair skin and pale blue eyes that starkly contrasted against her brown hair, a slight tremble in her hands. Their arms were full of extravagant dresses.

You still sat, blinking at them with no expression as Sara shifted the heavy gowns from one limb to the other. You were still determining what she wanted as the lack of conversation became awkward.

"May I sit your dresses on the bed, my lady," she asked quietly. You felt pity. What had this girl experienced to become so... small?

"Will they fit?" You decided to say, finally leaving your seat.

"I pray so," Sara said, seeming to be the pack's leader. A red-haired girl smiled slightly and looked at the thick pile they had carried through the many floors of the Red Keep.

High fashion was gaudy. You ran your fingertips over the fabrics, feeling an array of cotton, wool, and silk of every color imaginable. You sorted through the piles out of curiosity and not because you wanted to see the fruits of the Targaryen's coin. It must have been Aegon's doing, getting you so many dresses.

Indeed they would not look through the wardrobes of the royal family for just a bastard. You could feel Sara's eyes on your back, taking note of the white streak in your hair as you grimaced at a hideous red dress.

One dress, thank the Seven, was not entirely terrible. You made no move to indicate you liked the creamy bronzed gown, its enchanting tan designs glimmering in the candlelight, its sleeves cut halfway down the arm, and wrists flowing with an accent of fabric.

It was alright, you thought, moving the other heavy materials away.

"Beautiful choice, your grace," a girl who had yet to speak complimented, grabbing it and quickly taking you behind a decorated partition as the others hurried out of the room. She grabbed the laces of your dress, untieing them without a second thought. You gasped, raising onto the tips of your toes as you attempted to gather purchase.

"My Gods what in the Hell do you eat? You are stronger than half the Kings army!" You nearly fell backward as she yanked the threads out of their holes.

"My apologies, your grace. I did not mean to hurt you," she said in a rushed tone, dragging your dirty clothes to the floor. "We have a bath drawn for you, and I do not want the water to get chill."

You heard the several other maids return, their footfalls sounding shuffled as a loud 'thump' vibrated the floor. You peeked around the partition as the redhead attempted to comb through your knotted hair, the brass teeth catching on one.

Once nearly half of your dark hair was pulled from your scalp and you naked as a babe, she ushered you to a round wooden tub, vapors rising above the water. With your mouth agape, she removed your dirty smock, and two other women helped you in. You could have laid there for hours, inhaling the relaxing smell of Clarey Sage and Lavender as they scrubbed the sweat and oil from your skin.

Unbeknownst to you, another person also enjoyed your bath, observing how the woman rinsed your hair. Aegon wished it was him kneeling beside the tub, watching the water drip down your neck and into the pool, rubbing oils over your delicate breasts. He watched from the crack in a secret passageway as they helped you, wrapping a thick cotton towel around your damp body. He sipped at a goblet he brought with him, the cool Arbor Red sliding down his throat. Not even his favorite drink could quench his thirst as he watched you ready.

Your handmaid ushered you to a vanity, rich mahogany with intricate designs carved into the wood. One brushed your damp hair, as the others laid out some cosmetics. A fine white powder dusted onto your face with a puff to get rid of any shine, crushed rose petals mixed with animal fat to create a balm, and a subtle rouge on your cheeks.

You had not realized how much effort went into becoming presentable with nobility. The most you had ever done was do a washing once a week with the other ladies of the house. Your face felt heavy as if they had rubbed soot onto your skin, but what you saw in the mirror looked as if nothing had changed. Though you had a light flesh-toned powder, redder cheeks, and stained lips, you still looked like you. Your natural features enhanced, and you felt like a... royal. Like you truly were born of Targaryen descent.

"Why am I dressing like this, Sara?" You asked, eyes downcast as a blonde servant braided your hair, staring at your white streak of hair.

"You will meet Prince Daemon soon, and he will escort you to dinner." You turned to face Sara as she compared different pieces of jewelry. The blonde yanked your head back in place as she continued.

You hadn't realized how hungry you were until Sara mentioned the prospect of food, your stomach suddenly feeling its emptiness. But once you processed you were going to see your father, the man Madam had kept you from all your life, nausea replaced it. You were glad you had not eaten today.

"It is nothing to worry about, my lady," the blonde said. You looked at her through the mirror, unconvinced. "My name is Caldia. I have served the Targaryens for many years now, and if I have learned one thing, it's that if Her Highness Princess Rhaenyra tells the Prince to do something, he will listen."

You weren't sure what that meant but didn't question her, nervously biting your red lip as she pinned the braids to your head.

Aegon wanted a better view of you, but he could only if he made himself known. His imagination was crazy with thoughts of what you looked like. What dress did you choose? Was it the color green? What hairstyle did you wear? Was your jewelry the pointed star of the Seven?

It was odd for him to be wondering such things. He never much cared for religion, let alone women's fashion; he was more focused on what lay underneath. He took another sip from his cup, a few dribbles spilling down his chin.

Caldia put her hands on your shoulders and gave you an encouraging smile as Sare put a silver bracelet on your wrist. "I am frightened," you confessed as you stood, wrapping your arms around your torso.

The four women, now yours to command, exchanged nervous glances. They knew about as much as you and could offer no words of comfort. Not one to let people suffer, Sara grabbed your hand and leaned close to your ear.

"Madam has eyes everywhere. Just give her time," she whispered. You wanted to gasp but held it back, not wanting to make any other girls suspicious.

Eyes were everywhere in the Red Keep.

Two Kingsguard stood stiff at their post outside Prince Daemon's chambers, watching you with expectant eyes, breathing deeply. The bodice of your borrowed dress constricted your chest, frying your nerves. You pulled a piece of loose skin with your teeth, feeling the soft trickle of blood into your mouth as you gave the men a curt nod.

The doors opened with a loud clang of metal and a groan of wood, revealing what seemed to be a dark empty room lit only by a fire out of view. They did not announce your arrival. There was no need. The Rogue Prince was expecting you as his chamber doors shut.

You walked further in, your leather shoes tapping on the hard floor, as you saw a lithe man standing at the hearth. It was Prince Daemon; there was no one else it could be as you heard him sigh and lean against the fireplace. You were moments away from meeting your father, to a man you only knew by name. Neither of you spoke, you observing the stranger and him watching the flames.

"They say I am your daughter," you spoke with a small amount of courage. "That you are my father. But how can they claim a man who I have never met be called my father?" Though they were calm, there was a hint of malice behind your words.

You heard him snicker as he turned to you, a smirk on his face, still leaning on the hearth.

"Come," he said, inviting you to watch the dancing orange flames contained by metal. "Who is your mother?"

"My mother is dead." Daemon pursed his lips, shifting. "But her name was Elaina Black." The hole that she left still bleeds, even years later.

"How did she die," he asked, eyes never leaving their spot.

"In childbirth. A few weeks after I was born."

You couldn't read his emotions, his face blank but contemplative. A man this quiet did not fit the title of Rogue Prince.

"Come," Daemon said again, leaving his spot and going to a small table with a metal box. He flipped the latch, revealing a deep blue velvet lining, a necklace, and a matching pair of earrings. The onyx-colored jewels reflected like a lake, a midnight pool encased in steel.

You were speechless. This was the first time you had received a gift such as this. Your mouth hung open as word failed. Daemon motioned you to turn so he could clasp the necklace, the black crystals contrasting your soft, creamy dress.

"What is it," you questioned, gently stroking the fine accessories, still trying to remember your manners.

You could form no thoughts, no words other than what was expected of you. "It is zīrtys perzys, Dragon Glass, gathered from the mines of your home, Dragonstone. And Valyrian steel, some lasts of its kind."

Your home

"Thank you, Prince Daemon. This gift..." you struggled to form a sentence. "Is the greatest gift I have ever received." You spun, doing an awkward mix of a bow and curtsy. The jewelry was extravagant like all royal fashion was, yet tasteful, even if it didn't match your attire.

"No need for that. You are a Targaryen; we bow to no man except the King," he proclaimed, briskly walking to the exit.

You stood there confused. That was it? No questions or apologies for abandoning you?

"That is it, then," you exclaimed before you could catch it. "No apologies for the years of believing my father did not love me enough to visit? To raise me as any good man should?" Prince Daemon turned around, standing in a defensive but relaxed stance as you stormed over to him. "No condolences for the loss of a mother? For the loss of a family?"

"You have been brought to me now. That is all that matters."

Your face scrunched up in confusion, gesturing your hands in a stop motion and shaking your head. High-Borns were really that emotionally stunted.

"That is not all that matters, Prince Daemon. Do you have no concerns about how your child was raised? If I am even your child," you added, done with the treatment you have received from these Targaryen men. If this was how they all acted, you wanted no part.

"I am your father, and you are my bastard. This discussion is finished," he declared, finally letting some anger slip through his facade.

"Why," you yelled, going closer to him, "how do you know? How do you know?"

"Because I have always known! I have always known that there were bastards of mine running around Flea Bottom!" He charged towards you, grabbing you by your biceps with the strength of ten men, shaking you as a vein popped from his forehead. "You are the only one who has lived long enough to claim the title publicly!"

You settled, fear replacing anger at the implication.

"You... You murdered your own children?" Daemon said nothing, his face red as he stared. 

It all made sense now. Why Ma did what she did, why she hid you from everyone, why your entire life was spent smothered into her bosom, it wasn't simply her being overprotective. She was saving you from death, from the man who gave you an extravagant present, from the man who went from being aloof to screaming, from the man who stood right in front of you.

Your father could not be as vile as him. You wanted the hands of this filicidal maniac gone.

You grimaced, mustering all the saliva you could and spitting it on the Rogue Prince's cheek. Why would he hesitate with you if he already called so many of his kin?

He let go, and you scrambled out of the way, not wanting to face his wrath.

Instead of being met with the sharp blade of Dark Sister, you heard a laugh. A genuine and honest laugh.

Daemon had a pleased look on his pale face, the same look Lord Strong gave you hours earlier but smug. He knew what to say to boil your dragon blood because you were the same as all of the true Targaryens.

"You're a mad man!" You shouted, looking frightened.

"You are my child," he declared, sauntering over to clap a hand on your shoulder. "Enough with this fun. Let us eat. I have gown rather hungry." 

You had a sense of Deja Vu before the wide entrance of the dining hall, only this time, you were not alone. Next to you was your supposed father. You chewed on your lip nervously, pulling the thin scab that covered your marks from earlier. 

So many things were left unanswered you had no idea where to begin.

Your mother was a prostitute; how could he be sure? How did he not know she was pregnant? That is not an easy thing to hide. How many brothers and sisters did you potentially have, was Daemon the monster Ma believed him to be, and who was watching you now, ready to report back to her?

"This is unnerving," you decided to say, not brave enough to voice your questions yet. He snorted, his eyebrows raising for a moment before he shifted his weight and took your arm in his.

"It is unnecessary, but is that not all customs to those unaware?" You mimicked his expressions but turned your gaze down, retaking your lip between your teeth. "Stop that," he chided as a father would, and you obeyed. You couldn't help it; the feeling came as an instinct. 

Two guards opened the doors, and another from inside the dining room announced your presence to the family that sat upon the great table. As you walked arm-in-arm with Daemon, you became even more ridged than the crown's sworn protectors. 

Master List of Series

Sorry for the no smut in this chapter. Quite dull, actually, but we have to lay the ground before the real action can happen, baby. Also, this is the dress the MC is wearing, and the necklace and earrings Daemon gave her. :)

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Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @buckysmainhxe, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @minttea07, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @dd12004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfilit, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress , @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @buckylahey, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme

[kimakento]

so this is how it feels

synopsis: nicholas has been in love with you for quite some time now, but he struggles to reconcile with that love when it goes even far enough for him to develop hanahaki. but you’ll never know that he yearns your love back. ⌙ 2.6k

pairing(s): wang yixiang x fem!reader

genre(s): angst

warning(s): swearing, blood, passing out, low self-esteem, bit of toxicity

tags: hanahaki!au, unrequited love and more. (too lazy to write it out sorry 😞)

author’s note: this was requested by my fav @loserlvrss i actually read a hanahaki fic the other day and HAD to write one myself, this is a bit self indulgent but as always hope you enjoy !!! i js wanted to get this out quicker, might make a part 2 idk i hope this is gut-wrenching enough for you bae 🤞

a little fun fact: i read somewhere sakura cherry blossoms represent the fleeting nature of love and the fragility of it. which is what i see in nicho it just made sense to me

a few years ago, when nicholas was asked by one of his friends what his type was, he blanked out. while staring at his friend, dumbfounded, he scoffed, claiming that he didn’t care enough to have one.

love wasn’t something that he needed at the time, much less cared about. he pondered about how romantic love was supposed to feel like or what love even was, it wasn’t one of his priorities, though.

but now, if anyone ever asked nicholas what love was, he’d reply with you. the girl who occupied his every thought, his every dream, his every waking moment — maybe that was an exaggeration, but you were love to him. love was the person who made you feel feelings, nicholas couldn’t quite put it coherently but he just knew it was you.

and if you were love to him, why were you with him and talking about another man right now? nicholas despised him, he loathed that he wasn’t the reason for the goofy smile on your face, that he wasn’t the reason for your random fits of giggles, that he wasn’t—

“nicholas! are you even listening?” the train of thoughts cut off when a pout crept up on your face, emphasising your discontent. however, as time passed torturously slow, an unsual sensation in his chest began to settle, but he dismissed it. nicholas set his hazy gaze on you, watching intently while you parted your lips to speak, the same ones he so badly wanted to claim as his.

“just look at what he posted, k is definitely doing this on purpose.” you said while shoving your bright phone screen in his face, nicholas squinted his eyes to focus on the photo of yudai while the subtle tickle buried deep in his chest intensified. balling his fist, he watched as your enthusiasm became more evident as you slightly bounced on your bed, humming along to a melody, only stopping when he spoke.

“why don’t you just tell him about your feelings then?” more like ‘why couldn’t he tell you about his.’ it was rich coming from him.

“it’s not that easy, nicho,” and he thought he understood that more than anyone. “yudai—“

“can this wait? i need to use the bathroom right now.” nicholas was only a mere two seconds from just leaving, he couldn’t bear hearing that stupid name anymore. ‘yudai’ this, ‘kei’ that, he just wanted your attention on him and only him.

his steps felt heavy as he dragged his feet towards the bathroom; nicholas felt so shameful. distance from you felt like the proper solution. as he entered the bathroom and locked the door, his head fell against it in a dramatic thump. so much thoughts ran through his mind, it felt unbearable.

involuntarily, he let out a small cough into the palm of his hand.

fuck, am i sick right now? he thought.

but then—he saw it, a delicate and dainty pink petal; one that looked like one from a cherry blossom. that’s when his heart dropped. staring nervously at the out-of-place petal, it crumbled away painstakingly slowly, disappearing into flecks of dust whisked away by the air.

“what the fu—“

the vulgar sentence was cut off by another cough wracking his body, bringing a second, pale petal with it. nicholas’s eyes darted around anxiously as his breath hitched. this cannot be happening. not now. not like this, when you’re in the other room. with trembling hands, he slapped his hand over his mouth hastily. yet his ragged breaths only seemed to intensify the creeping pain in his chest, the ache refusing to dissipate.

completely oblivious, you noticed nicholas’s prolonged absence and decided to walk towards the bathroom, calling out his name while concerned.

“nicho, are you okay?”

in between half-stifled coughs he let out a meek mumble, “i…i’m fine.”

bringing your hand up to cover your face, you shook your head while tutting at his response.

“okay then..? just shout my name if you need anything!”

once he heard your retreating footsteps becoming fainter, nicholas retracted his hand from his mouth and noticed a small petal was placed fitly in his hand; he grimaced.

it was hanahaki. he was suffering because of his unrequited love for his best friend. why was it always him? bad things always had to happen to him.

a sharp pain struck him in the chest and he clenched his shirt to find relief. nearly doubling over in pain, nicholas ran over to the sink, putting one of his hands on each side while coughing violently. his grip on it was so hard that his knuckles turned white. after a few more minutes, it seemed to have subsided, but that was only the calm before a storm—a big one at that.

sheepishly, he turned the bathroom door handle and stepped outside, hearing the sound, you hurried over to him.

your hand came up to cover his forehead, feeling his body temperature before stating, “you look pale, and you’re hot. i really think you should go home.”

nicholas’ face flushed from your gentle touch, he didn’t even pay attention to the growing ache tightening.

a smile crept up on his face. ‘i know i’m hot, you don’t have to tell me.’ he wanted to say, but before the first word came out, he coughed into the palm of his hand.

another petal.

this time, a streak of blood painted the innocent, pink petal.

concern washed over you and you placed your hand over his shoulder, the petal just out of your line of sight. quickly, nicholas nodded his head before clenching his hand; just to hide it.

“what about you? you’re going to be lonely here.” he gazed down at you with drab eyes. mesmerising were your eyes, the eye contact you held with him enchanting him more with every fleeting moment—no, he wasn’t allowed to think that.

you responded with a small smile, “it’s okay, me and yudai are going out. you know, i think he likes me back. i might take my chance sooner or later—“ that name again; why is it always him? nicholas thought. that familiar pang pained him again and he clutched his other hand, gritting his teeth through the pain. it only seemed to worsen whenever you mentioned that guy—nicholas didn’t even want to think about his name.

after recognising the complicit frown on his face, you interrupted yourself and dismissed it as him being ill. “—but enough about that! you should go home.”

in defeat, he weakly nodded before grabbing his jacket and making his way out of your home. the outside world felt cold and the chilling wind whisked everything away as he kicked a nearby pebble.

opening his fist, he threw away the blood-painted petal in a rage.

nicholas hated—no, he loathed koga yudai. he hated how he had to fight for your attention, he hated that he even developed hanahaki because of his stupid, unwarranted love for his friend. most of all, he hated you for being so oblivious. but who was he kidding? wang yixiang could never hate you. even if he tried his utmost hardest.

the subtle tickle in his throat began again, almost like a never-ending story.

then he looked up, trying to distract himself by watching the clouds. it all became useless when your face appeared again in his thoughts, and he’s reminded of the strong gaze you held just minutes ago.

nicholas picked up his pace, walking through the park that you both do every week. shoving his freezing hands into his pockets, he notices a familiar face in the distance walking in the opposite direction.

koga yudai.

great, his day seemed to be getting worse. a bitter expression adorned his face as the taller man continued to walk towards him, almost passing nicholas in the process before finally recognising him and visibly brightening up.

“hey, nicholas! funny seeing you here.” his tone was light and airy, usually the type that friends would have towards each other. but they weren’t friends, they would never be friends; or at least that’s what nicholas thought.

the latter’s voice was flat and disinterested as he replied dryly, wanting to end the conversation. “yeah, nice.”

before he could walk away, yudai placed a hand on his shoulder to stop his sudden rush.

“do you know if she’s at home? i don’t know if you were told, but we’re going out right now. i really want to make a good impression.” on yudai’s face, he held an almost lovesick expression, which made nicholas feel sick.

the mention of you brought back the long forgotten pain. with a weak shake of his head, nicholas excused himself and walked away hastily.

kei was perplexed but thought nothing of it as he continued to your house, making note to ask you about it later.

the wooden bench nicholas chose to sat own was cold. his fingertips brushed against the splinted wood as his other hand covered his mouth, to attempt to silence his defeaning coughs that wracked his already-vulnerable state.

for months in a row, this continued—you’d call to talk about the ‘oh so romantic’ moments with kei or to talk about how kind he was, or to even just update nicholas about your situation with yudai. then that same pain would start again, and pink petals, sometimes painted with a streak of red, would fall out of his mouth. it only worsened when you announced that you and yudai were a thing.

he was genuinely sick of it.

his pain seemed to have become palpable in every way.

but today, was a day like no other. nicholas was hunched over, eyes widened at what lay there, tainting the white, marble sink in his bathroom.

a whole cherry blossom.

he turned the tap, indulging the clear water to run; all to tune out his thoughts. the petals of the blossom crumbled, and some were taken away by the water. with trembling hands, he threw the running water at his face, with this continued on for a couple of minutes with a few sighs of fatigue in between.

when leaving the bathroom and sitting onto his bed, he began to sink deep into thought. nicholas didn’t know how to get rid of this, the disease that plagued his soul, the one that he was terrified of bringing up out loud, much less to you. this unknownness was unfamiliar; therefore horrifying. help couldn’t be an option for him, yet he couldn’t just hope it all went away. but—

before nicholas could finish his thought, his phone vibrated from a text.

my life </3 wanted 2 ask if u wanted to go to a get-together with our class with me n k at one of their houses (u don’t have to come, i know how much u hate these.) sent 1:38pm

the last part of your text, though not important, made his heart flutter. as he reread the message he noticed the phrase ‘me and k’. armed with frustration, he was reminded of the blossom again. and with a bitter taste in his mouth, he replied back.

nicho!! ok. txt me the address. sent 1:43pm

as you squinted to read his message, your mind wandered. the crude reply sounded unlike him and so you responded. nicholas stared at the three dots that flowed on his screen, anticipating your reply.

my life </3 u good? u sound out of it ): if u’re sick u should stay home. sent 1:45pm

nicholas hated seeing you sad, he never wanted to be the cause of your unhappiness but he also didn’t want to see you with yudai. he took a deep breath to calm himself, choking himself up when he coughed.

it was another whole flower. however, there was no blood this time. his stomach churned as he doubled over and the feeling of wanting to throw up intensified. nicholas wanted nothing but to get the hanahaki disease out of him.

tapping your foot impatiently, you texted him again.

my life </3 nicho? where r u? wang yixiang. i’m concerned now. read 1:54pm

every passing minute made you more anxious, resulting in you picking at your fingers.

with trembling fingers, nicholas responded with a simple ‘i’m okay’. and you let out a sigh of relief knowing he was fine.

‘please come to the get-together’ you said, ‘it’ll be fun’ you said. yet what was fun about watching you all over kei? what was so fun about leaving your friend hanging and barely even speaking to him? what was fun about being so oblivious about his painfully obvious feelings?

while everyone cooed at the ‘cute’ couple that was you and yudai, nicholas stayed slumped in the corner with an empty glass in his hand; subtly glaring at you both with watchful eyes.

as you interlocked your fingers with kei’s, you bridged the gap between you, meeting his lips with yours.

thoughts distorted and eyes narrowed, nicholas swore he could hear his porcelain heart shatter into minuscule pieces.

there it was again, the ache in his chest, now rising up his throat.

placing his glass on the table, he sped up the steps to find the nearest bathroom. finally, one door he opened turned out to be it. and wasting no time, he hurried in and locked the door; running to the sink, he couldn’t stop the strings of coughs from his mouth. flower after flower appeared, each with more streaks of blood than the one before.

so, this was how it felt? to fall in love with you? nicholas wondered if it would’ve been different if he had confessed before everything. everyone warned him to not develop feelings, it was always going to be a bad idea. he never listened.

and these were the consequences.

the flowers were nonstop and like infinity, they continued on and on and on. each blossom pained him more, making him wince. his vision slightly darkened and his breath hitched.

then it quickened and it felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen. the room started spinning and the temperature dropped. or it didn’t, he didn’t know. nicholas’s senses were all distorted and that made his brain unable to recognise or process anything. everything felt foreign and weird. while staggering, he fell to the floor in one swift motion.

“nicholas?” he heard a voice echo.

another cough. another pretty pink cherry blossom. one as pretty as you.

“nicho?!” again, the same familiar voice. his eyes stayed open long enough to watch the door creak and you come out behind it. your face showed worry as you scrambled down, clutching his shirt.

voice cracking, you whisper-shouted, “nicholas! listen to me, come on.”

your shaking hands reached into your pocket, dialling for an ambulance.

and then you see it, a flower on the floor, laid prettily next to his motionless head. your hands tremble trying to reach out to touch it, but you’re distracted when nicholas mumbled softly.

“what’s wrong?” you asked quietly, tears threatening to fall.

a small smile appeared on his face, “i love you.”

“i know, i love you too. but this isn’t it for you, please.”

“y..you don’t get it… not in that..way.”

the last thing he remembered was seeing your eyes blinking cluelessly. it took you a couple of seconds before your eyes widened. you turned away from him, concealing your hurt expression and you heard nicholas sigh.

“nicholas, i..i’m sorry.” you managed to say while turning to face him, only to see his eyes shut peacefully.

even though he knew there was no chance of you liking him back, nicholas would still always love you and choose a life with you in it in a heartbeat.

[writersdare]

Two Gummy Worms | Luke Hemmings

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Luke was determined to take Y/N on a night drive. Some things, though, didn't want to go according to his perfect plan.

Warning: friends to lovers, fluff, mentioning of food

Word Count: 1 503

Requested: yes

Author’s Note: Honestly I enjoyed writing it so much, it gave me some sense of comfort, and I really hope you'll feel it as well once you read it ♡ Also, yes, I am obsessed with Luke's blue eyes, you can't take it from me...

A calm evening was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. Y/N lazily got up from a couch and wandered into the hall, feeling tiredness with her whole body. Someone celebrated Fridays with friends in local bars, Y/N, though, preferred to spent it quietly that time. Watching a silly show on Netflix, she’s been wrapping herself up in an old blanket, which was given by her friend Luke few years ago. Maybe – only maybe – it was fair to correct that the poor blanket was actually stolen from him, however, in Y/N’s defence, Luke didn’t use it much anyway, so the girl only borrowed something he never needed. 

Possibly, the stolen blanket made the guy to come over uninvited; in any case, once Y/N opened the door, she saw the friend on the threshold of her apartment.

“Let’s go,” without a proper greeting, Luke grabbed Y/N’s hand and dragged her out of the house.

“Where?” the girl stumbled, trying her best to stay where she was. Y/N was in her PJs, the hair was carelessly tide up in something close to a ponytail — the look that simply screamed “I’m staying in today”.

“For a drive. I’ll bring you back in few hours,” he promised, sounding both calm and determined.

“I warned you hours ago that I’m not going!” Y/N outraged, ignoring the fact that her friend drove all the way out there. The girl made it clear in her message that even though his adventitious idea sounded nice, she simply did not have any powers left for the trip. The tiredness was the size of the passing week, which fell on her shoulders sharply once Y/N entered home that evening.  

“It’s just few hours!” he whined and suddenly lifted the friend from the ground to bring her to the car himself. It was almost ten o’clock in the evening, and Y/N was getting cold. 

“Gosh, wait! Let me get changed at least,” the girl rolled the eyes, smiling a bit and still trying to set herself free. 

“Five minutes,” Luke warned, and once he put her on the ground, Y/N hurried up inside. She hoped to shut the door in his face, however, the guy foresaw it well, so he managed to slip through the door quicker. A wide smile appeared on his face. 

Even though the whole idea of going somewhere so late didn’t really excite Y/N, once she was in the car, checking all the snacks Luke bought them for the little trip, the girl thought that, perhaps, it was a nice distraction from her exhaustion for an hour or so. 

“You didn’t need to change, you looked pretty earlier, too,” Luke spoke up, glancing at Y/N who was chewing gummy worms and time to time placing few in his mouth as well.  

“That’s sudden,” the girl chuckled, trying to ignore a quick shutter of her heart. The girl fancied her friend for quite some time, but it was not as scary as dangerous to reveal her feelings. Y/N didn’t want to ruin their friendship. “Be honest, you just wanted me to get sick. I was freezing cold, by the way!”

“Well, if you didn’t hesitate for so long, you would be in the car a while ago, enjoying my company and food.”

“Thank you for mentioning food, I’d put it on the first place, though,” Y/N laughed shortly, looking at the window. Even though it was late, the lights were illuminating the road, and quite soon she started to see untouched fields, passing by. “Also, I wasn’t hesitant, I told you right away I wasn’t going.”

“Here you are with an urge to reply on everything,” Luke rolled his eyes jokingly and glanced at Y/N again. He liked how cozy and comfortable she looked at that moment. It was actually rather precious to know that a person he cared about so much trusted him, fully.

“You are the same,” the girl reminded and, giggling, put another gummy worm, a blue one, in his mouth. “Suits your eyes.”

The musician chuckled, barely being able to chew the marmalade.

“A worm?”

“Yeah,” Y/N laughed back and smiled vividly. “I like your eyes,” she mumbled and looked away, feeling too overwhelmed. If only he could be hers, and she could be his…

“So, we have a problem,” Luke announced, when about thirty minutes were left from the final destination. The guy was planning to show Y/N a sunflower field, but GPS suddenly stopped working properly. However, the guy was sure he remembered the way there so didn’t worry too much. Until…

Y/N turned her head towards a friend and frowned a little.

“Are you going to keep holding the dramatic pause or will just tell me?” she smiled, though, not even thinking there could be something serious.  

“Yeah, well,” Luke hesitated and glanced at a dashboard of the car. He still couldn’t believe what he saw. “Apparently, I forgot to refuel and noticed only now…”

“You are joking,” Y/N raised up in a seat to check it herself. “How could you forget?”

“I don’t know!” Luke outraged, slowing down the speed of the car. “I was in a hurry cause I wanted to make a good surprise for you!”

“Well, it is a good surprise after all, Luke!” Y/N giggled, not being mad for some reason. “Let me find the closest gas station,” she mumbled and opened her phone to check a map. The girl didn’t hear how her friend mumbled quietly “go for it”, as he already knew that GPS stopped working twenty minutes ago.

“Okay, so… we’re in the middle of nowhere,” she announced dramatically, zooming in and out on the map. “It doesn’t work. How much gas is left? Maybe we should go back,” Y/N sighed, once Luke stopped the car on the side of the road. He was upset. “Hey, that’s alright,” the girl smiled and unfastened her seat belt to sit sideways to the windshield, facing the musician. The girl gently placed her palms on his cheeks and nodded. “I’m not mad, it’s still a fun trip. After all, it wouldn’t be us if it didn’t end up like this, don’t you think?” she chuckled kindly.

Luke hurried up to cover her palms with his, being scared she’d break the touch too soon.

“We still can stay here for some time? Before going back?” he suggested carefully.

Y/N nodded, feeling the pulsation of her heartbeat almost in a throat. If only she could kiss him, and he could kiss her…

“Y/N,” Luke spoke up, and the voice was hoarse. 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I guess there is something I needed to tell you,” he started, immediately regretting it, though. How was he supposed to tell her that? Was it a bad timing? It probably was. There was no where to go, and if… if Y/N didn’t feel the same way it’d be hell awkward. He really didn’t think it through…

“Again?”

“What?”

“You need to tell me something else? I thought we’re done with surprises,” she giggled, fooling around a bit, as Y/N could see how anxious Luke started to look all of a sudden.

“Oh, no, that’s the main surprise, I guess,” the guy chuckled and looked down only for a moment. The fear took him over, though, and he rested his palms on the knees, so Y/N pulled away from him. “No, actually, forget about it.”

“No.”

Luke looked up at the friend, being surprised.

“What do you mean “no"?…”

“That’s exactly what I mean. I waited for too long to allow you to step back once again,” Y/N shook her head, getting annoyed. Why was he so uncertain sometimes? She was sitting there, next to him, worrying that her heart would break the chest, and he couldn’t say few simple words?… “Would you finally acknowledge my feelings for you if I kiss you right now? You’re so bad at taking hints! How can you keep doubting if I feel the same way you do?”

“How do you– How do you know?…” Luke mumbled, staring at Y/N. The guy couldn’t hide his terror. So she knew? All that time?!

“Honestly, it seems like it’s only you who is blind here,” the girl smiled sadly and looked down, feeling ridiculous.

Another second, though, she felt Luke’s hand on the chin. He carefully lifted her face so the girl could look at him before he covered Y/N’s lips with his. The kiss was tender and gentle, slowly changing into a more passionate one. They both just couldn’t believe it took them that long to confess. And honestly, who knew how long it’d have still taken if Y/N had kept silence. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered, touching her forehead with his.

“You already did,” the girl whispered back and, smiling, pressed the lips against his in another kiss.

taglist: @dgrangaa, @gracieboogirl, @yukichan67

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner – saw them here @calmfolklore & @kaleidoscopeminds –

Moodboard ♡

© writersdare | all rights reserved

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

Masterlist | Taglist

[caesariawritesstuff]

For the 50 follower ask thingy:

Prompt: "If you want me, you have to want all of me."

With Edward and Detective with gender neutral POV for the detective. Please and thank you. :3

Wanting

Summary: A fight with Edward leads him to tell you the most important thing of all.

Word Count: 663

A/N: This fic is currently not canon to the official Cat&Mouse!Verse storyline. Thank you anon for requesting this fic, and I hope you enjoy!

Edward stared across from you, his eyes never leaving your face. Your gaze was dropped low, staring at the cup of coffee in your hands. All around, the coffee shop was busy and alive with the sound of chatter and high spirits. The smell of bitter coffee beans and sugary sweet syrup floated on the air. He leaned back slightly, before reaching for his own mug and taking a long sip, relishing in the flavor on his tongue.

“You wanted to meet?” he finally asked you when you didn’t respond.

You nodded, looking back up at him, but you said nothing, opening your mouth as if to speak, but no words have come out. Edward regarded you with a slow, careful gaze, his eyes studying every inch of your face. It was only last night that you and he had gotten into a heated argument over the state of your relationship, and where it stood. Even he wasn’t entirely sure where it was at this point – and it bothered him greatly. He knew what he wanted.

But what did you want?

You met his eyes finally, and he noticed your throat bob with nerves. Finally, you said, “Edward…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for last night to happen.”

He raised his brows. “You know, detective, I’ve made myself and my feelings quite clear about how I feel about you. And I’m sick of hiding it.” A bolt of frustrated anger rushed through his veins. You and he had been dancing this same routine over and over for weeks now.

You looked away again, biting your bottom lip. “I know. I’m sorry. I just…I know what you want. And I want it too, Edward, but…”

“But it’s me, remember?” he answered for you. You’d made yourself just as clear last night: the very reason you could not commit to him was because of your fears of who he was. Because you feared being judged, whispered about, ostracized from the rest of the GCPD. Fears, which, in his opinion, you needed to get over, because people were going to talk no matter what, and he was far above listening to the opinions of sheep.

You shifted in your seat, not looking at him, your gaze falling back to your mug. “We’ve been through a lot, together, Edward. And you’ve done so much for me. But it’s just…”

Edward leaned back, frowning, his eyes narrowing into slits. He knew he had blood on his hands. He knew he’d done so many things, that his past was tainted. But hadn’t he proved himself? Hadn’t he done his best to prove he was capable of reform? He’d bent over backwards to prove himself to you, and he was not interested in giving up – but even he was growing frustrated with your lack of conviction towards this relationship.

Finally, Edward finished his drink and said, “Detective…if you want me, you have to want all of me. Not like I have any faults, of course, but you have to take me for all that I am, and all of my genius and brilliance.” He smirked.

You smirked back, but he held his breath and waited for your next words – words that made his heart tighten in his chest when you finally said those magic words. The words he’d been so desperate to hear for weeks.

“I want you, Edward Nigma,” you finally said. “All of you. Every part of you.”

His smirk grew into a genuine smile. “I knew you’d come to your senses eventually.”

You laughed, the sound like music to his ears, and for a moment, the world faded away to just you and him and the words you’d spoke. It felt like a dream, one he never wanted to wake up from. And for the first time in a very long time, Edward Nigma felt a happiness he hadn’t felt in years. He was at peace – and he never wanted to feel the chaos in his mind again.

[deargravity]

obsessed with hajun because he is so loveable but also deeply unlikeable. which is... literally the charm of his character. he's slightly strange and incredibly elusive and undoubtedly morally questionable but no less human. he's sharp-tongued and insensitive at times, but he's clearly trying to be gentler, and a little more aware in his manner when it's necessary. (congratulations on the cognitive empathy, hajun, i'm sure you'll put it to good use.) i like that his moment of vulnerability didn't soften him up but he's learned to be honest with the people he loves. i know hajun is very much in his senses when he does something wrong, makes someone uncomfortable / embarrassed but i also don't think he'd appreciate his actions being moralised. at the end of the day, he wants to be seen, known and understood for who he really is but he's afraid of baring himself that way. he doesn't want to be an open wound, his childhood home was not forgiving enough for him to express any kind of injury. i suppose he thinks, "if i am to be abandoned, i'd rather be abandoned like a house on fire, not a sick dog. something malicious, unsympathetic and worth remembering, if not possible to return to." he's kind of twisted like that, and it's endearing to me (unfortunately).

we don't know much about his childhood in the yeon household (he did move to japan all by himself when he was 13 - which is a whole another can of worms to unpack because can you imagine having to independently build a life at that age in a new country, learn a new language and stand on your feet after being thrown out by your family? can you blame hajun for being a razor-sharp hazard to society? his childhood was pitiless, the city was even more so, no wonder hajun's only constant companions were his isolation and the fangs he had to grow to survive.) but i'll make a reasonable inference based on dongha's experience. we see hajun as he is now, with his cold, precise anger but we also see dongha's wet, thrashing rage that hasn't realised its purpose or target yet. dongha is the closest we have to understanding the extent of the yeon's family cruelty. dongha is everything hajun would have been if he'd still been his parent's son, hajun is everything dongha could be if he leaves behind his family. which is still insane, if you think about it. and i think about it constantly.

the self-made cynic, as they say. i like that he's disarming, unsettling, insincere, insensitive, sadistic, self-serving, cunning manipulative etc. whatever people want to say about him, but i also like that he's his truest self with allen and anne, and doesn't plan on changing that. the world be damned, they are the only ones that matter because they've looked him in the eye without flinching or turning away. like... BAE are so everything...

anyways, i hope he continues to be perceived exactly as terrible as he pretends to be, and i hope the writers leave his beautiful, skewed moral compass intact because i love every single reprehensible act he commits. (for his next trick though, i hope he uncovers something to launch a billion-dollar lawsuit against yeon conglomerate and sink them into bankruptcy.) i hope he continues to cook for allen and anne, i hope he stays fiercely committed to protecting them and caring for them, because clearly everyone else is nothing and if there is one thing he has faith in, it's the family he chose for himself, the family that chose him right back.

hajun and his quiet, precise rage. hajun and the childhood he had to bury so he could evolve to survive in a bigger, crueller world. the childhood that taught him to be afraid, and the adulthood that hasn't quite unlearned it just yet, but baby steps. something about hajun and i get mean when i'm nervous like a bad dog. something about anne and allen embodying tell me every terrible thing you did and let me love you anyway, and hajun taking the risk of believing it. and taking the risk every morning until he doesn't forget. hajun and i am not brave enough to look those who love me in the eye. hajun and it's not a conscience that assures morality, it's the resolve to be a better person to people you care about.

but we can't unpack all this right now. if you suffered through all that and are still here, i hope you have a good day.

[mcflymemes]

BARBIE AS THE PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the 2004 film, adjust as necessary

all my life, i've always wanted to have one day just for me.

what do you think i'm running here?

keep laughing!

i've already paid off more than half!

what would it be like to be free?

oh and look! another engagement gift!

i know. it's my duty.

it is the only way to take care of our people.

you would think that i'm so lucky that i have so many things.

can i come along?

i'll never stop believing.

what idiot put this in here?

you're back... here... early.

how can i refuse?

the moment that i get back, i will show them who's the boss.

oh please. having delusions again?

[name], you are quite sure about this?

why the sudden formality? it's just me.

there's nothing like some fresh air and a change of scenery.

i wish it were that simple.

so which one was your house?

we couldn't afford a house.

mm, that smells delicious.

did you really think you could make a living as a singer?

what's your name?

aren't you supposed to be inside the castle?

i'd rather be in my library reading science books all day.

i'm just like you.

i made the one you're wearing.

i completely understand.

we could be twins!

i'll take my chances!

i haven't seen you around here before.

i don't think we run in the same circles, but... perhaps we can change that.

i'll send someone for you.

i command you to unlock this door!

i can't believe they won't let me in there.

think you could get me up to the roof?

i am simply not going to look at myself.

well, this is dreadful.

what would i do without you?

i insist we cancel the wedding.

are you out of your mind?

would you look at the size of this place!

i don't know a thing about being a princess.

there's a time and place and way for everything.

oh! you're back! where have you been?

promise me you'll never do it again.

you mean you cheated!

how did she escape?

get out of that bed!

you're supposed to have all the answers.

i beg your pardon!

not another word! you're coming with me!

how dare you speak to her that way!

now shut up and get back to work!

this is going to be a long night.

we can't give ourselves away!

look at all this food! want some?

i didn't want to marry a stranger any more than she did.

what's wrong? are you sick? something in your throat?

i love you the way you are and that will never change.

i can't let you do this all by yourself.

something tells me you have a wonderful voice.

would you do us the honor of playing the piano?

i'll stay by your side if you love me for me.

there's something about you... you're honest. no pretenses. i like that.

i think i'm falling in love with the king.

you can tell me everything on the way to the castle.

how sad they'll be when they discover you died in a tragic accident.

everything seems to be in order.

get your hands off me!

what proof do you have of this ridiculous story?

i don't believe it.

it doesn't make sense.

marry me, for how can you refuse?

i was in love with somebody else. my best friend.

i can't give you what he can.

we'll get out of here somehow, i promise.

you do love disguises, don't you?

nice to see you again.

now who has nowhere to go?

it is our duty to take care of our people first.

i hope you'll take this with you.

it was meant for you.

when you live your dream, you'll find that destiny is written in your heart.

[be-my-ally]

All Revved Up

a/n: mention of elvis knowing he was going to buy the stutz; but from my research it appears the actual purchase was more spur of the moment than it is implied here. 

For a prompt that was fic based on a car. The car is… not the main event here; i can’t yet quite bring myself to defile the blackhawk - maybe another time. 

warnings: some level of objectification; oc laura briefly  compares herself to a car, brief fingering/masturbation, sex (p in v). I am, officially, sick with (absolutely totally not just a cold) flu so if this makes no sense I am sorry lol. pretty much p without plot. really stupid car jokes.

wc: 2.2k concise smut is back!!

1970 elvis x oc

thanks to the girlies as always!!

If you were to peer up at 1174 Hillcrest Drive from the road you’d probably be too far away to notice the curtains twitch just the teeniest bit, at least that’s what Laura hopes from her position trying to look out at Elvis in the driveway. She’d wanted to come out with him, he’d been so excited about the delivery of his new car, 

“It’s a prototype Lor, you can’t even buy it yet!” But he’d been adamant that she had to stay inside, preferably away from any prying eyes. He’d explained he’d agreed to photos - that they had been a key factor in the negotiations for the car. It had, in fact, been pretty much the only way to keep Sinatra away from it, and he didn’t need to have his joy at that tidbit of information be soured by Priscilla’s reaction to his truly broken promise with Laura being errantly caught in the background of one of the, sure to be heavily publicized, images. He’d sworn up and down to Cilla - he was going to the Hillcrest house just for the car; he’d be back at the new house in Palm Springs a day or two later; and no, no she didn’t need to bother even doing the fairly short drive with Lisa, “No, really Cilla it’s fine - it’s going off to be customized anyway.”

In a similar fashion to this elusive car, Laura had been delivered to Beverly Hills herself for the next couple of days. It was a nice change of pace from Vegas for her; she was, despite being essentially at Elvis’ beck and call whenever he wanted someone fun but familiar for a couple of days, still working at the International. While it was the fall Las Vegas didn’t really have an ‘off’ season and so it had been a struggle to find someone to cover her shifts at such late notice but her excitement at the possibility of getting to be alone with Elvis for three days had made it well-worth the effort. He’d promised her mostly uninterrupted bliss, and apart from these two hours on Friday he’d be all hers until Sunday afternoon. 

“I swear - I won’t be long. ‘S the only reason I was able to be here; just gotta spend the hour and take the pictures.” Despite her annoyance - he’d been pulled out of bed for it, he was practically reverberating with excitement and all she could do was concede, agreeing to stay away from the front of the house for however long it took. She couldn’t resist a peek though, even though she knew basically nothing about cars, still wanting a sneaky preview of what he’d been so excited for. 

She wasn’t disappointed, it was a gorgeous car and looking at the long, sleek black lines of it that she could just about see from her vantage point she could understand his desperation to have it. He circles it, looking like he’s dressed to match the car, slender black suit and thick gold belt accentuating the gold accents of the S badge at the top of the long silver grill. Laura continues to watch him as he gently brushes a hand over the shiny waxed exterior as he peers into the windows - appreciating the finish. The action makes her squeeze her thighs together, stomach muscles and vagina twitching and tightening in some sort of bastardized kegel as she remembers him that morning, circling the bed and assessing her in much the same way, claiming he just had to check he’d remembered her just right. 

He walks out of sight, and had anyone else been in the room with her she would have been mortified at the sad groan she let out in response to being unable to track him any further, and she lets the curtain drop out of her grip - stomping back over to the bed and flinging herself on it. 

She’s left hot and needy, and frustrated enough to start to deal with it herself, absentmindedly fiddling with her nipple, images of Elvis circling the car, circling her running through her head. She takes a shuddering breath in as she runs her hand down to slip into her panties, imagining it was him brushing his hand over her - complimenting the softness of her skin the same way he commented on the waxed finish of the hood. She’s just starting to get somewhere, her eyes closed, as she focuses on her clit when the door slams open as Elvis walks in. He’s taken his jacket off, left in his white shirt and black trousers, sunglasses still on his face. Laura jerks her hand out from her panties with a start. His frown transforms into a grin at the sight of her panic and sudden look of concentrated innocence, his eyebrows rising behind his glasses. 

“Huh, now then, what do we have here?” 

“What, what do you mean Elvis?” She tries to play it coy, rolling to face him fully and tugging her dress down as she does. 

“Well, I saw something in the window, sure looked like some little girl peeping out where I told her to stay away. You tryin’ to get me in trouble with my wife?” She cringes at the mention of Priscilla, playful mood changing as she quickly attempts to defend herself. 

“No, no, of course not!” He frowns at her sternly for a moment before he cracks, shaking his head laughing, 

“Knew it was you!” 

Laura gasps, “You didn’t even see me?!” He shakes his head, still laughing as he walks over to sit on the other side of the bed, curling his knee up so he can face her. 

“Oh you wicked boy! Elvis! I thought you were really annoyed!” He smiles, taking his glasses off, leaning over to rest on his hand over her legs. She shifts onto her back, leaning against the headboard. 

“So,” He flops his head to the side, keeping his eyes on hers as he trails a finger up her leg, circling her knee, “then, tell me, how much is that girlie in the window?” She giggles at his frankly stupid joke, and the way he’s just catching her where she’s most ticklish at the joint of her knee and thigh. 

“Hmmm, more than you can afford now you’ve bought that faaaaancy car.” 

“You like it, baby?” She nods, fervently, 

“It’s gorgeous… I bet it drives real nice.” Elvis looks pensive for a moment, 

“Yeah, well, uh, maybe - maybe later, when, when it gets properly delivered - after it’s gone to George, I’ll take you for a spin.” He nods, “Actually, yeah, that would work - I might even be in Vegas by then.” She hums noncommittally. He smiles, changing the subject, “Now though, let’s get that engine of yours purring huh?” His hand slips further up her thigh and he pretends to act shocked when his fingers graze across a damp spot, “Ah, you’re already all revved up aren’t you baby?” 

Laura nods, her legs parting open,  dress rising to her waist again. “Uh-huh, been waiting for you,” He tugs gently at a little patch of curls escaping from the legband of her underwear as he wriggles two fingers under the fabric,  and she squirms, 

“Ohh, you have been keeping that little motor running - just waiting for me to come and take it for a ride huh?” He rubs his knuckles over her burning, sticky, skin before reluctantly withdrawing his hand in order to shift himself up the bed, situating himself between her knees. He rapidly unbuckles and unzips himself, Little Elvis springing free, heavy belt buckle hanging down by his side, the weight pulling his trousers down further. Laura moans,

“God, El, wanna ride you - or you ride me, or god, I don’t know - whatever you were saying.” He laughs at her flustered expression and words, pushing her legs further apart and tugging her closer. 

“Shit, gotta, gotta get these off,” It never fails to make her smile to herself the way he’s portrayed as some sort of sex-god, and then does something like forgets to take her panties off. She shimmies them off herself, minding she doesn’t kick him in the ribs while she pulls her leg up. They’re still hooked around one of her ankles when he impatiently pushes her leg back down, gripping her knees. Elvis pumps his fist down himself, tugging her closer, nudging himself at her folds. Laura stops him, reaching down to grasp at his glasses, he doesn’t help her but he also doesn’t stop her and soon he’s blinking slightly as his eyes are forced to adjust to even the slight difference of light in the dimness of the room. She chucks them to the side, smiling back in response to his, lifting her hips a little and hooking her feet behind him - as if to remind him what he had been about to do. He looks to the side, grabbing a pillow from beside her head, shoving it under her hips. 

“You ready baby?” She nods, and he grins suddenly boyish, “Gotta pump that lil empty engine full of gas now.” She shakes her head even as she giggles, kicking him just the teeniest bit. “Ow! Watch it!” He laughs. 

“Elvis -I swear if you make a ‘you’ve got gas’ joke now I’m getting up and walking out of here.” He loses his balance at that, practically collapsing on top of her as he laughs hard enough that he’s shaking the mattress. 

“Don’t you mean drive -” He sets himself off again, “Don’t - don’t you mean you’re gonna pull out,” he chortles, “p-pull out and drive away?” 

“You silly, silly, man.” She can feel him twitching against her upper thigh, his laughter tickling her neck where he’s tucked his head down, his hot puffs of breath causing her skin to pebble. “Or is that race-car driver?” He heaves a last breath of laughter and presses a kiss against her collarbone before pulling himself back up. 

“Lady and Gentleman, start your engines.” He slides his fingers against her, and Laura quite literally can’t open her legs any wider, shifting her hips up as she tries to ignore his joke, 

“C’mon El, please, I need you.” He strokes her side, shoving the hem of her dress even further up. 

“I got you, don’t worry, I got you baby.” Elvis mutters, sinking into her, mouth instantly falling open, as he’s enveloped in her wet heat. She takes a deep breath in as she adjusts to him and he stills for a second, waiting until she nods before starting to move his hips. 

It’s quick and dirty, clutching at her waist and slamming her against him, moving a hand to paw at her clit and Laura is almost embarrassed at how quickly she finds herself on the edge. Elvis is whispering compliments, sucking his cheeks in in that way he does, unable to stop his lips and cheeks twitching between speech and it quickly gets to be almost too much, watching the sweat start to form on his forehead, the fact that he’s still fully clothed - like he just couldn’t wait. His thumb rubbing her just right as he mutters, 

“Oh baby, bet-better than a, than a - than a fucking corvette, god I love you.” and it sends her straight over the cliff. 

Her eyes fall closed as she shudders through her orgasm, finding herself still trembling and being held up entirely by his grip on her hips even when her blood stops fizzing in her ears and she’s able to relax her tense muscles. 

She opens her eyes just in time to watch him throw his head back, hair flopping with it, his lip curling as he grunts through his own orgasm, pulling out just in time to shoot across her thigh. If either of them had lasted longer than five minutes she’d be surprised. He collapses to the side of her, breathing hard, and it’s a couple minutes before either of them speak. 

“Jeez Lor, remind me why you’re not coming back to Tennessee with me?” She gives him a wry smile, 

“You know full well why.” Laura trails a finger down his cheek, jabbing it into him and squealing as Elvis playfully tries to bite it, “besides, you’re back in January aren’t you?” He nods, 

“Yeah- yeah I think, think that’s what’s bein’ ‘rranged.” He pauses, “You’ll still be there won’t you? Still looking pretty with your little apron and tray ?” Laura grins, 

“You never know - I might be promoted by then…I’ll be waiting on the rich and famous in the suites and just won’t have any time for you.” He nibbles down her finger, looking at her darkly, 

“Yeah you will be. Waiting just on me.” She giggles, shaking her head, “Uh-huh, only me - gonna put in a special request.” He taps her nose with her own finger, his hand enveloping hers, “Just. For. Me.” She nods along with him, whispering back, unable to stop herself giggling, 

“Yep! You and all the other rich and famous people.” He shakes his head, flopping back down to distract her with a kiss. 

@thatbanditqueen @vintageshanny @be-my-ally @arrolyn1114 @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @shakerattlescroll @peskybedtime @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @lettersfromvenus

[sugacookees]

lovebug again

✩ boo seungkwan x reader ✩ high school setting, fluff, mutual pining, mentions of death  ✩ w.c. approx. 7.1k ♫ this town - niall horan; lovebug - jonas brothers; for lovers - lamp; forever&more - role model; la la la that’s how it goes - honne; falling for you - colbie caillat

I hate being sick.

Everyone does, but some people enjoy the special treatment they receive from loved ones. But in my household, that is never the case. When I get sick, it always seems to be my fault. Too much time on my cellphone, not enough sleep, going out with friends too much—every leisure activity that could be blamed except for the fact that it actually happens.

Teenagers get two to four colds a year on average. But maybe I’m not a teenager after all since my mom says I should never catch a cold. Only weak people do. And annoyingly so, I kind of agree. As president of the class and of the school council, each day is vital. So, being sick is totally not on schedule and ruins everything. The time I’m spending lying on my bed staring at my ceiling could have been time for me to finalize our plans for the fundraiser and the booths for the upcoming school festival. But no, the universe decided that I should become the most helpless human being on earth at the time I'm most needed.

I couldn't even check my phone for updates or messages from other school council members. My mom is convinced that my phone single-handedly caused me to catch a virus and that it should be kept away from me. She even went out of her way to wrap it in a drawstring bag so my sister wouldn't get sick like me. I tried to do some schoolwork in advance, but I felt like my head was about to fall off, so I quickly abandoned that plan. 

It was a day ago in Chemistry class when I started feeling ill.

“Okay, here are five chemical equations to balance. I’ll give you a couple minutes to accomplish this and then we’ll get right to checking them.”

I look down right away at my notebook and copy the equations. By the second one, the numbers and letters are starting to jumble and lose sense. I feel like I’ve been reading the same number over and over again. I look up and around at my classmates to see if I’ve just been looking down too much, but I quickly regret it as soon as I see Jisoo’s head in front of me turn into three. I clutch my head and shut my eyes closed, hoping it would go away. Nevertheless, I go back to my problem set and attempt to accomplish it.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Looking to my right, where the voice is coming from, I see Seungkwan, who looks concerned. I quickly reassure him that I’m fine and that it’s probably just the heat. He nods in agreement, but does so hesitantly. Anyhow, I couldn’t find it in me to reassure him further as another wave of pain hits my head, and right at that moment I think I would just like to be hit by a train and be done with.

As I am looking down, I see a peek of navy blue hovering by my peripheral. I slowly turn my head towards it and see a jug held by Seungkwan, still with his worried face.

I’ve known Seungkwan for years. Our parents know each other way back from their childhood as we live just about 7 houses down by each other. It’s a small town too, so we go to the same market, same bakery, same school, and same dainty old cafes and restaurants. On holidays, we exchange meals and gifts, and simple hellos and goodbyes.

I remember the time before Nari was born. Seungkwan and I would always run around the house and play together. He invited me to his birthday parties, and I did too. Though, when we grew up and my father passed, I found myself forever changed. Seungkwan and I started to drift apart as a result of that, among other things.

Seungkwan has always been the most extroverted one in the room, and me, well, I’m completely on the other end of that spectrum. Wonwoo and Jiheon have always been quite introverted as well so we quickly got along. Surprisingly though, Wonwoo had also made friends with Seungkwan along with a few other boys. We would all be together from time to time at the park, the boys playing sports, and Jiheon and I, along with the other younger siblings of the boys, playing a definitely more beginner-friendly version of whatever game they were playing. All in all, we all got along well. Seungkwan and I would exchange conversations every now and then, but we weren’t as close and playful as we were before.

But I must admit, I have, and always will, hold a special fondness for Seungkwan. He was always sweet and kind, and even loved by all the elderly people in town. I recall the time I was out to buy some bread for our house, I saw him happily chatting with Chan’s grandmother. I say chatting, but more like gossiping by the way they were hunched and shifting their eyes. He would always make sure everyone in class was included, and he would always make everyone happy with his jokes and skits that he, Seokmin, Jisoo, and surprisingly, Jihoon, would act out. Seungkwan would also unhesitantly offer assistance to the student council during major projects. Sometimes, he would even stay late with me, saying, “So you have less to do tomorrow, and more time to rest!” He would then walk me home, and never forget to greet my parents and wish them well.

Seungkwan is lovely. And he is even more lovely now as he offers his water to me. Our drinking fountains have been under maintenance recently so, if I take up his offer he’ll have to wait until he gets home to get a drink again. He sees me hesitate and about to reject his offer, so he firmly places his tumbler on my desk and turns back to his notebook, offering no space for compromise.

In perfect timing, Mr. Hyun announces that the time is up and it’s time to check our answers. I pick up the tumbler, open it, and drink. I turn to Seungkwan quickly and smile. He smiles back.

By the next day, the headaches still come and go, but I keep it to myself and head to school anyway. During our break time, Wonwoo and Jiheon notice my weakened state and urge me to go to the school clinic.

“I’m fine! Just sleepy, that’s all.”

They share a look and thankfully leave my table.

But my peace is soon ruined as Jiheon slams a piece of paper on my desk. A clinic slip. The loud thump gathers the attention of the class, and they take notice of the much familiar white paper that occupies my desk.

“Oh my god, class president is sick?!” Soonyoung exclaims while exaggeratingly covering his mouth.

Usually unconcerned Hansol, Myeongho, and Junhui jerk their heads in my way with horrified expressions.

“I’m not sick! It’s just a small headache. It’ll go away soon.”

“It won’t.” Wonwoo says firmly with his arms crossed. “You’ve been having them since yesterday. Go to the clinic right now or else I’ll drag you there myself.”

Now, I'm usually assertive and tend to win in situations, but when I remember how Wonwoo once dragged Mingyu down the stairs by his backpack down the stairs because they were running late, I decide to sign the slip. I definitely don't want to be dragged like that.

On my way out, Jeonghan and Jisoo give me a few applauses with matching devious smirks.

I point at them accusingly and say, “Unlike you, I’m not pretending just to get out of class.”

Now here I am, at home, holed up in my room, bored out of my mind. Until, I hear a knock on my door and see Nari peeking in.

“Unnie, your classmate’s downstairs. He’s talking with Eomma. Come quickly.” She says hurriedly before rushing out.

I wonder what’s Wonwoo doing here. He usually sends me a text if he’s coming over. Well, he’s been one of my best friends for years, and he has come over a lot, so it’s not like my family has no idea of his existence, and maybe, he thought that sending me a text would end up in me stopping him from coming over. Probably.

Knowing it's only Wonwoo, I skip glancing at the mirror to fix my appearance; after all, he's seen me worse. Still feeling a bit lightheaded from lying down for hours, I make my way downstairs.

“Yah, Wonwoo. You couldn’t even se-“

I halt and gape at the man in my living room who is definitely not my best friend with fifty-eight centimeter wide shoulders (we got bored in class).

Seungkwan stands there in his collared navy blue sweatshirt, holding a basket of tangerines, looking at me with an alarmed face, then gives me a soft smile. It is at this moment I truly realize how much the universe hates me. I probably look like absolute shit right now, and Nari’s sly smile only confirms that further. That little girl.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude or whatsoever. I hope it’s okay. I’ll just drop this off and go, I’m sorry again.”

My mom quickly butts in, “No, no! It’s alright Seungkwan. The gesture is much appreciated. And I know this one has been dying for a familiar face that isn’t ours.” She gives me a look, which I have no idea what it even means, and smiles. She takes the basket and heads to the kitchen bringing Nari along.

In the living room, Seungkwan and I find ourselves standing awkwardly, a noticeable gap between us. It's evident that he wants to say something, but he seems hesitant, perhaps fearing that he might not be welcome. Unable to bear the silence any longer, I take the initiative and speak up.

“Thank you for coming by the way. And for the tangerines too. Those are my favorite.”

“I know.”

His response catches me off guard, and my surprise seems to have unconsciously shown on my face, prompting him to explain further.

“In middle school, we were asked to bring our favorite food. You came in holding this single medium-sized tangerine. And you know, my family has a farm so I brought one too. I was really embarrassed because Seungcheol had brought this full-blown meal and everyone was gathered around him. But then you saw me, approached me and told me-“

“‘Tangerines are cuter anyway.” I finish.

We both share a laugh and in between our laughter he asks me, “What the hell does that even mean anyway? How could tangerines be cute?”

I look at him fondly and answer, “Well, they just are.”

There’s a pregnant pause that follows our laughter as we gauge what to do next. As I’m about to ask him what made him drop by, he already answers me with a sheepish smile, “I, uh, just seeing you pale and weak in class, and you not showing up today just really had me worried.” He scratches his head and looks away. “So, I decided to check-up on you to see if you were alright.

Despite my disheveled bed hair, crusty and pale lips, and being dressed in Anpanman pajamas, I confidently say that I'm doing well.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be coming to school tomorrow.”

He gives me a worried look, like the one he gave me a day ago in Chemistry. “Are you sure? I think you should rest more. The council’s doing alright with the prep anyway.”

Feeling my stomach flutter at his genuine concern, I try to brush it off, blaming it on my feverish state, and reassure him that I'll be okay.

“I’ll be fine, Kwan. It’s just a cold.”

Kwan. I hadn’t realized I used a nickname for him I gave him years ago until I had said it. Either he didn’t notice, or doesn’t really care as it doesn’t seem to have caught him off-guard, seeing that he still seems to worry about me.

“If you say so…”

Ever the worrywart, but undeniably cute.

?!

“Well, it’s about to get dark in a while so I should head home. It was good seeing you. I hope you feel better. And if you ever decide not to come to school tomorrow that’s a hundred percent just fine, and I’ll take care of letting our teachers and the council know.”

I chuckle and walk him to the door.

“Thank you, Seungkwan. For coming by, and for the tangerines. I really appreciate it. Be safe on your walk back, and see you in school tomorrow.”

A few steps away from the door, he turns around, now walking backwards, with that charming smile and says, “I mean this in the nicest way possible. I hope I don’t.” As he walks away, that smile still on his face, I wave goodbye, returning the gesture with a warm smile of my own.

Subconsciously admitting that I do feel a little under the weather, I retreat back inside, hoping to get more and better rest.

Nearing the staircase, my mom stops me, and Nari hovers behind her with a smile that makes me feel uneasy.

“So,” she starts, annoyingly elongating the ‘o’. “I haven’t seen you and Seungkwan together for a while.” I quickly try to jump to correct her until she interrupts me. “I mean, you know, conversing. Especially with him coming here to our home.”

“Yeah, conversing.” Nari butts in, also, elongating her vowels. I roll my eyes at them.

“Tell that sweet boy he should come over often like the old days. Makes me feel younger.” My mom yells.

Don’t think I’ll be doing that, but like the good daughter I am, I say okay anyway and go back to my room.

My head pounds as I struggle to wake up, attempting to open my heavy eyes. The blaring alarm in the background adds to my discomfort, and I quickly move over to silence it. Another second of that noise, and my head might just explode. Despite feeling weak, I gather the strength to stand up, determined to get ready for school

Looking at my state and the fact that I can’t even tie my shoes right without getting lightheaded should be enough reason for me to garbage the idea of going to school. But then, I remember all my missed classes and the council preparations. I can’t miss one more day.

During breakfast, I try my best to act normal and perfectly healthy. Nari gives me a side eye every now and then, waiting for a moment to catch me red-handed; pretending not to be sick. Fortunately, my mom is preoccupied with getting ready for work and preparing our lunches, so she doesn't pay strict attention to my condition.

So far so good.

I collect my things and head out. As I open the door, the sun blares right at me so I cover my eyes with my hands and take a few steps forward to get into the shade. As soon as I remove my hand, I jump out of surprise at the sight of Seungkwan.

“Yah! Are you trying to kill me?! What are you doing?!”

“I’m sorry! I just..” He trails off and leads me into confusion.

“You just…?”

“My mom!” He screams frantically, and I jump in surprise again. “My mom also knew about you getting sick, so she asked me to accompany you to school to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh, well, she really didn’t have to. I’ll send her a text that I’m alright-”

“No!” He screams again.

“Seriously! Why do you keep screaming so early in the morning?!” His agitated state isn't exactly helping mine, and the never-ending screaming is starting to make me lightheaded again.

“I’ll do it. I mean- you don’t have to send her a text. I’ll tell her myself later. Don’t. Send a text.”

“Okay, alright!!”

I turn towards the direction of the school and start walking. He quickly follows and walks beside me.

Trying to make small talk, he asks me, “Are you feeling better today?”

“Yeah I am.” Well, technically, yes I am better. I didn’t say anything about feeling totally okay, so I’m totally, technically, not lying.

“That’s good,” is all he says.

He doesn’t make further small talk and we make our way to school in comfortable silence. Even if we hadn’t maintained a close friendship all these years, I can never feel uncomfortable around Seungkwan. Somehow, he always knows when I am in need of a cheery conversation, or time to be left alone. He also supports me in any endeavor I take on, like running for class president, and school council president. He even went as far as taking Soonyoung and Seokmin to the crafts store, buying materials to make a ton of banners and posters for me. I thanked them by treating them to Chan’s grandmother’s restaurant.

As we arrive in our classroom, our arrival makes some commotion.

“Oh? Class president, hello! Seungkwan-ah… hello to you too.” Soonyoung greets, adding a wink for whatever reason at the end.

As we walk to our seats, I feel lingering eyes following our every move. I look back and see Seokmin and Soonyoung whispering to each other. I raise a brow at them, and turn back to my seat shaking my head.

“Sorry about Soonyoung. I guess he missed you.” Seungkwan says beside me as he settles on his seat. “We all did…” He adds.

Wonwoo and Jiheon approach me asking about how I was and if I was feeling better. I fed them the same remarks (not lies) as I did Seungkwan. Wonwoo looks at me accusingly but decides to brush it off and keep to himself. If I don’t want to be sent home, I should really look out for Wonwoo. He might smell my bullshit about being okay from a mile away.

I made sure to bring a lot of water, using the big jug my mother uses on family trips. And also, to avoid Seungkwan offering his, and ending up infecting him. After all he’s done for me, I really don’t want to do that to him.

I excuse myself and head to the restroom to take a pain reliever, so a headache wouldn’t come over and torture me during class. After doing just that and trying to get myself together, I head back and continue as normal.

At lunch, Wonwoo and Jiheon eat with me. As I open my lunchbox and pause, both of them point at me accusingly, “Aha! I knew it! You’re still sick aren’t you?”

I guess my reaction, or lack thereof, to seeing my lunch was a dead giveaway that I don’t feel so up to par. Usually, I would get excited and eat right away, leaving no crumbs for Jiheon to steal.

“Ugh, but I feel better now. I promise!” I beg, mostly to Wonwoo. “Help me here Jiheon, please?”

“Sorry, I’m with Wonwoo on this one. You’ve been overworking yourself these days and coming to school today will just make your fever worse. You need to rest. It’s okay to, y’know?” She says.

I lean back on my chair, any appetite I even had, gone. I appreciate my best friends’ worries, but I really can’t afford missed days. But maybe they’re right. I can rest, and if I push myself harder I’ll miss more school days than I should.

Wonwoo pulls out an all-familiar slip and pushes it towards me. A clinic slip, all filled out and ready for me to bring. “We’re only worried about you. It’ll be better anyway if you were here in perfect, healthy condition, than physically being here but your mind—no offense, helpless.”

I take the slip and put it in my pocket. And since I don’t have any appetite, nor will I be in the classroom, I offer my lunch to Jiheon, which she accepts excitedly. Wonwoo shakes his head.

I leave the room and head to the clinic. On the way, I really start to feel my fever taking a toll on my body. What even possessed me to leave my bed and get ready? I should have stayed and slept all day.

When I get to the school clinic, they take my temperature and quickly assess that I should be sent home (again) for better recovery. Nurse Yang tells me she’ll ask someone to bring my stuff over for me.

After waiting for a bit, the sound of the chimes by the door brings my attention to Jisoo who is wearing my backpack.

“Thanks, Jisoo.”

“No problem. Though, I’m kinda jealous.” I smack him square on the shoulder. Nurse Yang gives us a side-eye glance. “Kidding. Obviously.” He heads out the clinic, but not before shouting, “Get well soon, our president!” I chuckle at Jisoo’s antics. “Sorry about that.” I tell Nurse Yang, to which she only shakes her head at.

“Your mother says she’s near, you should go to the gate now. Get well soon, dear.”

“Thank you, Nurse Yang. Hopefully you won’t see me back here anytime soon.” I really, genuinely, hope that.

I meet my mom, who is visibly mad, at the school gate. As soon as I get in the car, she gives me a lecture. I drown it out, and use my headache as an excuse to nap, even for a bit.

As soon as we get home, she orders me to stay on the couch for dinner and to drink some ginger tea. Even though the couch might not be as comfortable as my bed, I still snuggle in and nap.

The sound of the doorbell wakes me up. Despite being just a few feet away from the door, I refrain from standing up to get it. I know my family understands my current sickly state, and they will likely get it themselves. I hear the door open and my mom’s delighted gasp.

“Ah, Seungkwan!” I jolt upright and check if my ears heard that right. I look at the door, and there he is, right outside, holding a paper bag and smiling sheepishly at my mom. I contemplate whether I’m dreaming or not, but with Nari tapping my chin, I guess I’m not.

“A fly might go in, Unnie.” She teases then runs away before I give her one.

Seungkwan greets my mother back. “Hello! Just wanted to drop by again and give this samgyetang Eomma made. I also just wanted to check if…” He points at me, on the couch, “…is okay.” He smiles, and waves at me.

“Oh! How kind of you Seungkwan. Come in, come in!” My mom ushers him hurriedly inside, and takes the paper bag from his hands.

She looks at me pointedly, “Make some space for him!”

Seungkwan, alarmed, quickly blurts, “Oh no, it’s okay! I can just stand here...”

Despite his protests, I move my legs off the couch and move off to one side. I look at Seungkwan, who has a look of horror (and a bit of shame) on his face, and pat the very vacant seat beside me.

“Seungkwan, it’s okay. Lying down for so long isn’t great anyway.” I reassure him.

“Well, I won’t be here long. I just wanted to check if you were okay. But also, I felt a bit guilty that I didn’t notice that you were sick this morning.”

If I thought my head pounding was painful, the rapid and loud beating of my heart in my chest is quickly overshadowing that pain. Kind, charming, sweet seat mate and friend Boo Seungkwan, who offered me his water bottle [despite the fact that he can’t get a refill throughout the day], dropped by my house afterwards to give me a basket of tangerines, came to my house early in the morning to accompany me on my way to school [even if he was closer if he were to walk from his home], brought homemade samgyetang, and now says he feels guilty for not noticing I was still feeling sick. I think I might just melt into this couch, actually.

Thinking of nothing to respond, I switch the subject and ask him how his family is doing.

“They’re doing pretty good. My sisters miss seeing you. They always liked you ‘cause they could dress you up and talk about girl things I probably can’t understand.” He laughs.

“Well, I miss them too. Being an elder sister to Nari makes me want one too. I’ll make sure to visit when I get better.”

To that, he merely nods. We’re left in awkward silence again. Running out of things to say, I impulsively invite him over for dinner.

“Oh, no it’s alright, I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

My mom overhears him and quickly excuses him (more like begs him with pleading eyes), “No, Seungkwan. It’s alright. We would love to have you over for dinner! It’s always just us three, so another would make great company.”

“Eomma’s right, Kwan.” 

Kwan. The nickname again. I silently hope he doesn’t notice. And instead of dwelling on why it felt so natural to call him that, like in the old days, I beg him to stay.

“It’s the least we can do for all you’ve done for us, for me. The visits, the tangerines, the samgyetang, your water… Please stay.”

He looks at me to my mother, in deep thought. He fumbles with his hands, and I take notice of how slender and pretty they are. He takes a deep breath as he answers, “Okay.” My mom cheers and shouts my sister and I’s names, telling us to set the table and help her in the kitchen.

“Let me help!” Seungkwan says loudly, standing up from his seat.

“No.” We say in unison. Seungkwan gives up and sits back down with a huff.

During dinner, the atmosphere in our cozy kitchen is delightful, with lively conversation filling the air. A table for four, an antique lamp hanging right above our heads, and a lit candle on the counter. Seungkwan seamlessly fits in, right here beside me, engaging in cheerful chatter with my family. As we lock eyes occasionally, we can't help but share sheepish smiles.

In the middle of Seungkwan telling a story of how his sisters dressed him up for Chuseok last year, a sudden and powerful thunderclap reverberates the room and takes us all by surprise. Nari drops her spoon in surprise and latches on to our mother. As my mom consoles her, I look over at Seungkwan and see him deep in thought.

Oh right, he still has to go home.

“Oh, that must be the rain. Before it gets any stronger, I should probably go…” He says, looking down, afraid to disappoint my mother.

Out of concern (and concern only), I butt in. “What if it gets stronger as you’re walking home? Even with an umbrella, the walk home will still be pretty dangerous.” My overthinking self proves to be quite resourceful at this moment in concocting excuses, even though, in reality, it's not even raining yet. Despite that fact, I continue, “It’ll be better to wait it out, here, where you’re safer.”

I look to my mother in hopes she would agree with me. Her brows are raised but she relaxes them back as soon as I nudge mine for her to interject.

“Oh, yes. Agreed. Definitely. It’s time we took care of you, don’t you think?”

We all look to Seungkwan. An uneasy expression settles on his face. So, to assure him that he isn’t overstaying his welcome (I don’t think he ever can), I place my hand on his arm and smile softly.

“Please?” I squeeze his arm a bit. “I don’t want your family to get mad at me anyway for sending you home drenched.”

He chuckles and places his hand on top of mine. It’s warm. Where is this heat coming from? My fever? My naturally sweaty hands? My hand being sandwiched by his skin? The candle? Or maybe, it has something to do with the loud, fast rhythm my heart is going.

“Okay, okay. You convinced me.” He says out loud. His hand still on mine.

As dinner ends, my mother tells me to put on a movie in the living room to pass time in waiting out the rain. Seungkwan and I make offers to help with the dishes, but my mother is sure she can handle it and doesn’t let us forget that, actually, I’m still sick. Seungkwan, as if hit with this revelation, looks to me with shock as if he had also forgotten why he had come in the first place.

He rushes us back into the living room, settling on the couch, and picking a movie to watch.

“How about that one?”

“The Mimic?! Are you serious?! I’m sorry but no.” He says to me, as if very offended.

“But they said it’s good!”

“How about this one instead?”

The Lover’s Lake, flashes on the TV. I look to him in surprise. I should’ve known he was a rom-com guy.

“See, look. 5 star ratings! This is definitely the one.” He says excitedly. With this much excitement coming from him , I find it impossible to say no. He celebrates shortly, then stands up to dim the lights, setting the perfect mood, and then settles back down, wiggling around to find a more comfortable position. And this said position seems to be at a spot closer to me than he was previously.

I have this thing where, if the movie is good, I tend to instantly fall asleep. And that is just what I did. My eyes were getting heavy about just 20 minutes in. I had felt myself slowly leaning onto Seungkwan, and continued doing so until my head rested on his shoulder. He had not said a word about it, and continued to watch the film.

Maybe it was just my imagination, but he had leaned onto me too. Though, I wouldn’t be so sure about that as I had drifted off to sleep by then.

“Okay, now just pull the bunny ears you’re holding. Pull them tight.”

Following his instructions, I pull tight and successfully tie my shoelaces. His face contorts in delight and breaks out in a big smile.

“See! You did it! Not that hard, right?”

“It was hard.”

He laughs and picks me up in his arms.

Giving me a big smooch on my cheek, he tells me, “I’m proud of you anyway, my love.”

“Thanks, appa.” I say, and hug him tighter.

“Now go back down and show them.”

I run down the stairs excitedly. Today’s my 4th birthday and my family and friends have come to celebrate with me. There’s people towering over me everywhere. Finding my way to my mom to show her my recent feat, I maneuver through the crowd the best I can, but in doing so, I bump into someone.

“Ow, my head!”

As the voice screams out, I instinctively reach for the spot where we bumped, trying to figure out who I even bumped into.

It’s Seungkwan!

“Seungkwan!” He greets me back with the same enthusiasm, both of our pains ebbing away.

“Look!” I point to my shoes and he looks down to see what I’m even excited about.

His jaw drops a bit at the achievement usually only 6 year olds can achieve. “You did those?!”

“Yep.” I say with a proud smile. He continues looking at me in shock and he looks down at his shoes.

Velcros.

I laugh heartily but stop immediately when Seungkwan looks back up at me with an annoyed face.

In an attempt to make him feel better, I ask him if he wants to go get sweets with me. He puts up a bit of a fight before agreeing, but says yes anyway as if it was his last resort.

I take his hand in mine as we weave through the crowd towering over us. He squeezes my hand every now and then, when someone bumps into him and he’s lagging behind, afraid I’ll leave him behind. I tug on his hand.

After what felt like the world’s most grueling journey, we arrive at the kitchen. The sweets are on the counter, but they are really, really high up—way beyond our reach.

Seungkwan and I share a look.

He gives me a nod and I return a look of confusion. He nodded at me like I knew what he was about to do, or that we’ve been through this a million times. He really needs to stop watching those spy movies.

He leaves for a moment and comes back with a stool. As he takes a step on it, it wiggles a bit and I clutch onto him immediately. I look up at him and he merely says, “Oops.” I furrow my brows at him in annoyance.

“Let go of me! I’m so near!” He whines while gently pushing my forehead.

I sigh in defeat and let him go.

He takes another step, both feet on the stool. The added leverage enables him to see the array of sweets on the counter, which, judging by his reaction, is a pretty damn lot.

“Woah! There’s bungeo-ppang, chocopie, songpyeon, and-” He pauses and lets out a gasp.

“What? What is it?! Tell me!” I beg, tugging on his shorts.

He looks at me to create suspense, and then screams in glee, “HOTTEOK! Our favorite!”

In utter surprise and excitement, I pull my hand away from Seungkwan and start applauding. But it seemed like I did it too quickly, causing him to lose balance. From the first wobble, I start screaming his name repeatedly.

“Seungkwan! Seungkwan!” I say it repeatedly, and too fast, that by some point (yes, at this point he is still pretty much wobbling, putting up a good fight) all anyone would hear is, “Kwan! Kwan! Kwaaaan!”

He falls.

I rush to his side and ask him if he’s okay. He stays on the floor, with his eyes closed. After a beat of silence, he starts laughing. I look at him in confusion, wondering if he hit his head too hard. Seungkwan is now crazy and I have to say bye-bye forever.

He opens his eyes and stops laughing as soon as he sees my expression.

“You sounded so funny. ‘Kwan! Kwan! Kwan!” He says, mimicking my voice.

I smack him square on the shoulder.

“Sorry. Here-” He tries to sit up and hands me something. A single piece of hotteok. “Happy birthday!”

I take it from his hand saying, “Oh. Thanks!”

“What happened here?!”

We both look up in surprise at the horrified voice. It’s my mother.

In fear, Seungkwan starts apologizing frantically. “Sorry! We just wanted some sweets but I fell down. Don’t worry they’re still fine! I just got one hotteok though.”

My mom sighs deeply and helps Seungkwan up. She returns the stool from where it came from and reaches for something on the counter.

“Here. One for you, since you fought so valiantly for it.” She says, ruffling his hair. Someone from the living room calls for her. She gives us a smile and walks away.

Seungkwan and I exchange amused glances and burst into laughter. Amidst our laughter, I manage to take a bite of the hotteok now and then, only to continue laughing with my mouth full. Seungkwan playfully teases me, "You hotteok addict! At least wait for us to stop laughing!”

I smack his shoulder again, which seems to urge him to tease me further. “Hotteok addict! Hotteok addict!” He starts mimicking my voice and my rushed tone from earlier, now saying, “Tteokki! Tteokki! Tteokki!”

“What does that even mean?!”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. What does Kwan mean?!”

“Your name is SeungKWAN, stupid!”

“Kwan! Kwan! Kwan!”

“Tteokki! Tteokki! Tteokki!”

“Yah!” We both look at the booming voice, and see my dad towering over us with his brow raised. Seungkwan and I look at each other and nod. Then we start running away in laughter.

A loud thunderstrike jolts me awake.

Huh. My 4th birthday. That was the last time my dad celebrated my birthday with me, and the last time Seungkwan ever saw him alive. What a bittersweet memory.

I try to raise my head but feel a weight on top of it, stopping me from doing so.

My cheeks heat up at the realization. Seungkwan fell asleep too. And, he’s leaning on me.

In a state of panic, I try to make him more comfortable, but only lead myself to move my head and realize how stiff my neck is. I wince in pain which jolts Seungkwan awake. He looks around, feeling heavily disoriented.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you.” I say.

He looks at me with his mouth slightly open, his hair all floofed up in different directions, and a faint red mark on his left cheek where he was leaning on me.

He gains a bit of composure and says, “No! If anything, it’s my fault. Sorry for falling asleep on you. It must have been uncomfortable.” He scratches the back of his head, feeling a bit ashamed.

With no intention of lying, I agree with him. “Yeah, a bit. But it’s alright.” I say, laughing a bit towards the end to make him more comfortable.

“Well, it seems like the rain has stopped. I should head home…”

My mouth opens to say something, but the words seem to escape me, leaving me with a simple, "Oh."

He stands up to collect his things and prepares to leave. I stand and go to the door before he can, then Seungkwan appears in front of me.

I open the door and gesture my hand for him to step out first. He smiles shyly and heads out, with me following right after.

“So, uh, thanks. For coming by today. I really lo-liked having you here.”

“Me too.” He responds promptly. It seems to be a vague response so he adds, “Thank you, I mean. Thank you also for the great dinner and letting me stay for a while. Sorry again for… sleeping on you…” He looks away.

I laugh and tell him, “Kwan, you apologize too much y’know. Honestly, tone it down.”

He lets out a blissful sigh. “Well, I won’t keep you out here for too long. Goodbye.” He wistfully says, saying my name at the end.

“Goodbye, Seungkwan. I’ll see you in school.”

He starts walking away, towards his home, away from me. And for some reason, I wait. I wait for him to do something. Not exactly sure what. But I just feel like I don’t want this to end.

So I rush back inside the house and reach for something below the shoe rack. I run after Seungkwan, shouting his name.

Alarmed, he looks back immediately in shock. I stand before him tired and panting with my hands on my knees.

“What are you-”

“Here-” I hand him an umbrella. It’s pink and has flowers. “You should use this. Y’know, in case it- umm, rains again.”

He appears hesitant, almost ready to decline, but he stops himself and settles for a simple, kind, and gentle, "Thank you. You didn't have to do that.”

We stand in the middle of the street, just staring at each other with soft smiles. Just two people who have been gravitating around each other, now seemingly refusing to be apart.

He breaks the silence and says, “I’ll go now. For real this time,” while pointing a finger at me. We share a laugh.

Feeling a bit ashamed, I look down and say, “Sorry.”

“Ah, it’s alright.”

He smiles at me, and in response, I smile back and nod, silently indicating that I have nothing else to say to hold him back from going home.

“Get well soon, Tteokki.” He says, ruffling my hair. I say nothing about the nickname, like he did all those times before, and keep smiling.

Seungkwan finally turns back and walks towards the direction of his home, and I do the same.

Before I step inside, I can't help but glance back at him. Seungkwan continues walking with the umbrella hanging on his wrist, swinging it along with his arms. I keep my eyes fixed on him until his silhouette fades away.

With a sigh, I turn back inside, unaware that a certain round-faced boy had momentarily halted his walk and looked back, his thoughts mirroring mine. Just for a moment.

After an exhausting day of essentially doing nothing, I plop down on my bed. I fluff my pillows, get under my covers, and hold onto my teddy bear, hoping for the best sleep ever.

However, just as I close my eyes for about three seconds, I hear a notification sound from my phone. Unable to ignore it, I reach over to my bedside table and check the notification. The curiosity of not knowing what it is would surely keep me from sleeping soundly anyway.

It’s a message from my mom.

Confused, I swipe to open our conversation and see that she has sent me an image. It hasn’t fully loaded yet so I click on it and wait.

When the image loads, my heart starts beating quickly.

It’s a picture of me and Seungkwan sleeping on the couch. My head on his shoulder, his head on top of mine. My brows aren’t furrowed like they usually are. I look relaxed; at ease. I don’t look like I’m sick at all. And Seungkwan looks the same.

I zoom in behind us and see Nari smiling wide holding up a peace sign.

I shake my head and react on the picture with an angry emoji. Before I turn off my phone, my finger hovers over a button.

It doesn’t take much resistance from me to go ahead and click it, so I do.

Then a pop-up notification appears on my phone.

Image saved.

I smile to myself, then turn off my phone and head back to sleep.

Maybe I don’t hate being sick anymore.

a/n: loosely based on a dream I had of seungkwan! fun fact: that dream was the reason he ultimately became my bias T__T i miss u boo! Be well, always <3

[ulquiorrapleasecallmetrash]

can you perchance write my boy Gregory Violet x male reader headcanons? I would also appreciate if the reader was some sort of supernatural, either a reaper or a hellhound :3c

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Gregory Violet x Supernatural! GN! Reader Headcanons

Fandom: Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji

Rated: G

Warnings: none

Admin Wisteria: I hope you don't mind anon but i made these more gender neutral so everyone can enjoy them.

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Gregory Violet w/ a Reaper s/o:

-At first, I think Gregory wouldn’t think much of it.

-He would think that you are just a normal student and nothing more. 

-That is, until he notices that you will disappear at the most random times. 

-Or he will notice that you would skip class for a week and he will start to get very worried. 

-Especially if you keep saying that you were sick the whole week or if you have family that is very sick too. 

-After countless excuses he would eventually confront you about his worries. 

-You will eventually have to tell him the real truth as to why you are gone and you leave at the most random times.

-It’s because William wants to work you like a dog but you can’t say that to him. 

-Once you tell him that you are a reaper he will be shocked. 

-Intrigued but also shocked, 

-Maybe it’s his whole goth thing going on but he will be morbidly curious about your job. 

-but he doesn’t mind it at all but there is a tiny part of him that is a bit.. scared. 

-He might even ask you if you already knew about What him and the other p4 members did. 

-Of course you would tell him the truth but you obviously don’t care either way. 

-He is thankful that you are understanding or you don’t care about that murder at all. 

-But wouldn’t that be awkward if the reaper s/o was there the whole time to collect Derrick Arden’s soul? After they commit the murder Gregory just looks over, does a double take and is like… What the-

-That would be kind of funny to see, he will definitely freak out and ask so many questions after that. 

-Overall, I think that he doesn’t mind having a reaper s/o. Though he would appreciate it if William will stop giving you tasks at the most inconvenient time. Especially during… intimate moments. 

-but oh well, Death waits for no one!

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Gregory Violet w/ a Hell Hound! s/o:

-I hope when you think about a Hell Hound! s/o I hope you don’t mean like how pluto acted in the anime because I am going to be honest…writing that makes me feel weird. 

-So instead, I am going to write it differently. To me, hell hounds are a lot like normal demons like sebastian except they have more dog like tendencies but don’t act completely like a dog (Like Pluto)  They act more human/demon like but have powers, and talents that dogs have, like see in the dark, keen sense of smell, loves bones etc. Also It would be cute if the s/o has a tail or dog ears like how neko’s do. That would be a nice difference from normal demons. 

-anyways, I think Gregory would find a Hell hound! s/o quite entertaining. 

-Before he finds out that his s/o was a hell hound he would just think you are very eccentric with your dog-like tendencies. I mean he just thinks ‘well, you are in the Violet house so you are automatically eccentric, nothing to it’.

-Especially since all you wear is a cute hat and some kind of long coat to hide your tail. 

-He isn’t one to judge especially once he starts to fall for you. 

-Does get caught off guard once your dog-like quirks show up. Like becoming hyper, getting distracted by small animals like birds or squirrels and growling a lot when you are mad. 

-Will give you a funny nick name like puppy just to tease you. 

-Once he does find out about you being a hell hound it could go two ways. 

-He will be shocked but also not at the same time. 

-He is shocked that you are a demon dog but also not shocked if you haven’t hid your dog-like tendencies away. 

-Would immediately want to see your ears and tail. 

-Will find them very cute and will often play with your ears and tail just to tease you. 

-Also would love to pet you in your hell hound dog form as well. 

-Overall, I think he would not care, he finds you very endearing  and cute.

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*Bonus!* Gregory Violet w/ a Werewolf! S/o:

-I think this will all depend on when and how he finds out that you are a werewolf. 

-If you sat down and tell him that you are a werewolf, he will most likely just chuckle and wave it off, thinking it is some kind of joke or something. 

-He will not believe that you are a werewolf if you tell him. 

-Now, if he sees you in your werewolf form then things will be different. 

- He will definitely be shocked, and depending on how you act as a werewolf will depend on how much he is scared of you. 

-If you aren’t violent and deadly as a werewolf then he will be okay. But if you are more Violent he will be scared of you. 

-But I don’t think he will break up with you if does sees you in your werewolf form. 

-But he will need some time to process everything and it is best for you to let him do that. 

-Then once he is ready, he will then want to talk to you about it. 

-Will ask so many questions about it from the transformation, and how do you feel, and act while you are in your werewolf form. 

- Either way Gregory Still loves you for you no matter what and as long as you don’t kill him or hurt him he will always be by your side. 

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[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

I have been procrastinating finishing this one for weeks. Because I love them so much and because I didn't want to see the hurt that I knew was coming and I didn't want it to end.

I just finished this show and already it occupies a top place in my kdrama list. I watched the last 3 episodes today and it was quite the journey. Episode 19 made me cry almost all the way through. And it was made to do just that. The stretched goodbye of Mr Oh was efficient in that regard. It was so good. It was a good balance with the injustice of it all.

Unjust. So many of the thing that happened were unjust. But not at all surprising. As Suk Yool so eloquently put it in the last episode when Young Yi asked if his manager would keep his job after the beating he took, "Since he's a psychopath, absolutely". Much like him I was never under the delusion that things would work out for our team and the company would do the right thing for them, or for GeuRae.

But the rage at some of the behaviour was almost impossible to contain. I wanted to scream and punch something more times than I can count. There are despicable humans here and I wish more than anything that I could believe, this is just a show, there aren't actually people like this, that they'll get what's coming to them.

But every episode there was another side. People who are doing their best, trying to be good colleagues and cheering for each other. And this is, for me, where the biggest strength of the show lies. In this balancing act that even when I wanted to press pause and shout at my screen, there was a moment of hope. But in a real sense, not in an wishful thinking way. The perseverance of these characters gave me hope, that somehow, they would find a way to be okay. No matter the circumstances. If nothing else they had each other.

Even as GeuRae time in the company was coming to an end, and even believing that it wouldn't work (as much as I wanted him to stay, because he wanted to stay, it just wouldn't make sense at that point), watching some of the others come together to try and change the system for him made me emotional and it was a real testament to how GeuRae affected everyone around him.

I was not sold on the other three interns from the start. I couldn't decide If I loved Suk Yool or just found him annoying, although I think both might be true. I did think he has it worst up until the end, even when Young Yi and Baek Ki started to have an easier time in their respective teams, he was still being treated like garbage. The letter he wrote for GeuRae at the end made me cry. Yes he could be a bit too much at times but his heart was in the right place.

I really liked Baek Ki's journey. I hated him so much in the beginning, his ego and his superiority complex towards GeuRae pissed me off so much. But by the end I respected him because he finally respected GeuRae and saw that they had different strengths and he didn't always have to have the competition mode on.

Young Yi was different. Her scenes with her team made my stomach turn but I don't think I ever connected as much to her. Which is strange. For some reason I wasn't invested in her family drama or her past with the other company. I wanted to be, but I just wasn't. I don't know if it was me or the show but as much as I liked the scenes where all of them were together, when it was just her I just felt disconnected.

Them. I love them. I cried tears of joy in this moment. I just wanted them to be okay and together and as much as it could go either way, I am thankful that this is how it ended. Mr Oh is so dear to me. When he got sick I almost lost it. If anything were to happen to him... Anyway he was fine and so was I. He cared so much about his team but always needed to keep that manager image that inevitably faltered when he got drunk, which was a lot. Bless his wife. She was truly his rock through everything.

I adore him. From the very first moment I was just cheering for him all the way. His journey was wonderful. He was kind, he persevered and was always grateful for the opportunity he had. Loved to see him all grown up by the end. If I had just a wish was that he actually got to play baduk with Mr Choi and had completely obliterated him.

As usual, I don't really have the words to express my complete feelings about this show. Which is weird considering this is way longer than I thought it would be. Anyway. My heart is full but it was hard getting here. But the journey was definitely worth it.