#it’s a slow process but we’re getting it done! the house feels so empty already aha

[stinkrascal]

the gas is getting installed in our house today so we gotta be there for 12pm to meet the person who’ll set it up. we dont have any furniture moved in yet (we’re moving it in on sunday) so we’ll just be sitting on the floor playing video games until the person arrives 🥴

[wondernimbus]

two sworn enemies pt. 2 — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: maybe being fancied by draco malfoy isn’t so bad, after all.

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

click here to read pt. 1!

"Why is it so bloody cold?"

[Y/N] is decked out in full winter apparel; a knitted Gryffindor sweater, ear-muffs, and a scarf that she has half of her face buried in.

Sitting in the Quidditch stands with the rest of her friends, she grumbles, "It's not even a Gryffindor match. We don't really have to be here freezing to death."

"Well, it's common courtesy," says Hermione, but she's just as cold as [Y/N] is; there's bits of snow stuck in her hair and the tip of her nose is pink.

Ron snorts loudly. “We’re here to watch Slytherin lose," he says matter-of-factly, still in the process of smearing streaks of blue paint across his cheek.

[Y/N] watches him, nose scrunched. "Well, aren't you the Ravenclaw fanatic."

He gives her a grin and holds out the small tub of paint. "Want some?"

She bunches up her lips in thought, then reaches out to take it. Annoyingly enough, Ron pulls back at the last moment, grinning wider than ever, and says, "Or d'you want to show support for your boyfriend Malfoy? Hermione, why don't you turn this green—"

[Y/N] dives over Hermione and Harry to smack Ron round the head, only for the pair to hold her back and push her into her seat.

Exasperated, Hermione huffs, "Honestly, Ronald, will you stop bringing that up?" She glares at him. "You know fully well [Y/N] doesn't like it."

Ron (and Harry, although he isn't as boisterous about it as the redhead), thinks that the "blond ferret" taking a fancying to her is one of, if not the most hilarious thing to have ever happened in history. Annoyingly enough, Ron has made it a habit to tease her about it every chance he gets—this one being one of them.

"If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought Ron fancied Malfoy with how much he talks about him," grins Harry. This earns him a smatter of blue paint across his face; Ron had flicked it at him.

With one last eye-roll, [Y/N] tears her gaze away from Ron and digs her nose further into her scarf. It really is very cold; snow is falling from the sky, seeping into her clothes, some landing on her hair and on her face. Thankfully there's not so much of it that the players on the pitch wouldn't be able to see around them, but still—[Y/N] imagines that it'd be a lot colder for them, having to fly around the stadium with the cold wind whipping at their robes.

There’s a buzz of loud chatter hanging in the air as conversations from all around them overlap over one another. The entire stadium is slowly filling up; students trickle into the stands, a majority of which have adorned themselves with blue accessories as a show of support to Ravenclaw. One side of the stands, however, is entirely green. Through the snow, she can see a big serpent-shaped balloon hovering over the Slytherin side.

"They’re coming out!" someone exclaims.

Sure enough, when [Y/N] looks down at the pitch, players from both teams have appeared and congregated at opposite ends of the pitch. Slytherin and Ravenclaw; whichever house wins will play Gryffindor for the house cup. Most bets are on Slytherin, but [Y/N] would have to be dead before she is caught anywhere supporting them.

"Look, it's [Y/N]'s boyfriend," gushes Ron.

More out of habit than anything, [Y/N] shoots the redhead yet another brief, scathing look. Draco Malfoy is there, even though he's nowhere near being her boyfriend, pale face set into a stoic expression of calm as he stands with the rest of his team, one hand on his broom and the other on his hip—and this specific image has her thinking back to what happened two weeks ago on this very same pitch, except the stadium was empty and it was only the two of them on the grounds; when he'd confessed to liking her.

As if Malfoy has somehow heard her thoughts over the noise of excited chatter coming from all over the stands, he looks up, eyes sweeping the seats in search for someone before finally, they land on her.

When he meets her gaze, [Y/N]'s breath isn't knocked out of her chest, nor does she start blushing madly. But she doesn't burn red with annoyance, either. All she does is stare at him, eyes narrowed, watching as his lips split into a wide grin and he raises his hand to wave at her.

She rolls her eyes, but thankfully—thankfully, the scarf tucked around her neck, reaching up to her nose, conceals the smile that tugs at her lips.

"May I ask everyone to please find themselves in their seats before the match begins," McGonagall’s voice echoes around the stadium, giving [Y/N] a reason to break eye contact.

She tears her stare away from Malfoy’s, inhaling a deep breath through her nose, feeling oddly exhilarated.

But this isn't anything new. That slight feeling of breathlessness, that unfamiliar sensation tickling at her stomach whenever she spots a certain someone in the hallway; she's been feeling it a lot lately, and though the cause seems to be pretty obvious, that is another thing she'd have to be caught dead before doing: admitting that she reciprocates some of Malfoy’s.. peculiar feelings.

"And they're off!" Dean Thomas announces. [Y/N] watches as the players soar high into the air until they're mostly level with the stands, a blur of blue and green robes rapidly zooming around the pitch. Slytherin is already in possession of the quaffle; not a surprise, considering Ravenclaw isn't exactly known for their exceptionally talented Quidditch team.

Malfoy, meanwhile—[Y/N] tells herself that the way her eyes dart around the pitch in search of a certain platinum blond is because she wants to watch the game properly and not for other reasons.

She spots him hovering somewhere above the rest of the players, face screwed up in concentration as his gaze moves around the pitch in search for the golden snitch. He looks even paler in winter, set against a backdrop of a cloudy sky and snow—

[Y/N] jars herself out of her thoughts and blinks, side-eyeing her friends (specifically Ron) to make sure they hadn't seen her.. observing the Slytherin seeker. (Not like it matters; it's not as though she fancies him, but Ron would certainly take it the wrong way.)

"Go Ravenclaw!" Ron practically screeches, waving his Ravenclaw banner in the air—when did he get that? "Kick Slytherin’s arse so Gryffindor can crush you in the finals!"

[Y/N] snorts. "Have it all thought out, don't you, Ron?"

"Go on and cheer for your Slytherin boyfriend, [Y/N], no one's stopping you," says Harry, grinning. She turns to face him, mouth open in disbelief, and lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter.

"So, Harry," [Y/N] says, suddenly deadpan. ”I see you've chosen Ron’s side."

Harry snickers, then shrugs.

"Oh, Malfoy’s seen the snitch!" someone shouts from beside them. [Y/N] turns back to the game to see Malfoy zooming down the pitch, clutching the front of his broom as he swerves past Slytherin and Ravenclaw players alike in pursuit of the tiny golden ball all the way on the other side of the stadium, where [Y/N] and her friends are sat. He has the upper hand—Ravenclaw's seeker is only just now starting to fly after him, but she's a good distance behind and Malfoy is gaining speed.

"He’s gonna catch it!"

"Ravenclaw's even worse than I thought," grumbles Ron, slumping down in his seat.

But just as Malfoy passes by them, somehow, despite the fact that he is in pursuit of the bloody golden snitch and on the brink of securing victory for his team, he slows down just the tiniest bit, and then, in true Malfoy fashion—theatric as always in his displays of affection—he catches her eye and yells “This one's for you, [Y/N]!”, a grin on his face before he hurtles down the pitch, stretching out his hand towards the fluttering snitch—

"Malfoy’s got the snitch!" Dean Thomas screams into his microphone. "Slytherin wins!"

[Y/N] stares, feeling oddly warm despite the wintry weather, as Malfoy spins around in mid-air, triumphantly holding up the snitch for the rest of Hogwarts to see.

"Blimey," gapes Ron, wide-eyed, staring not at the Slytherin seeker but at [Y/N]. "That was—"

[Y/N] looks away from Malfoy to meet Ron's gaze, maintaining indifference. "He’s quite the charmer, isn't he?" she mutters, and hopes that her friends will think that the blush on her cheeks is because of the cold and not because of something—someone else.

But that's ridiculous. It is because of the cold, isn't it?

"It may be Malfoy," says Ron slowly, shaking his head, "But you can't deny that was bloody romantic. Felt like I was watching something out of one of those Muggle films."

"Yeah, we'll have to ask him for tips," says Harry, and starts laughing when [Y/N] rolls her eyes in response.

—

Malfoy may have stopped sending her Howlers, but that hardly matters because he has found every other way to pester her.

This includes consistently yelling out her name and shouting random pick-up lines every time he spots her in the hallway, as well as sending people to do her bidding—no longer first-years, but Crabbe and Goyle, who show up at random intervals everyday presenting her with a batch of different pastries. She always sends the pair off, but only after Ron and Harry accept said pastries for themselves.

"Blimey, this is heavenly!" gushes Ron, taking a passionate bite off of his second red velvet cupcake. "You sure you don't want a bite, [Y/N]? Hermione?"

[Y/N] offers him an exasperated smile. "No, thank you, Ron."

"Don’t thank me, thank your boyfriend."

The four of them walk into the dingy Potions classroom. Snape is nowhere to be seen, but it's only a matter of time before he swoops in all bat-like, so [Y/N] and Hermione quickly take a seat at their regular desk, right next to Ron and Harry.

"Have you done your homework?" asks Hermione, pulling out an assortment of parchment from her bag.

[Y/N] hums in response. "I doubt mine is half as good as yours, but hopefully I’ll scrape an acceptable."

"Oh, you're a good student, [Y/N]. Don't bring yourself down."

"Hard not to when I’m sitting next to the brightest witch in our year," she nudges Hermione’s shoulder, smiling. Hermione huffs, rolling her eyes, but it's clear by the pleased look on her face that she doesn't hate [Y/N]'s honest flattery as much as she lets on.

[Y/N] drums her fingers on the desk to pass time, not quite paying attention to the students filtering into the classroom. Or at least not until one of them calls her name and drawls, "Is someone sitting here?"

[Y/N]'s head snaps around to see none other than Malfoy, gesturing to the desk to the left of hers and Hermione’s. "Mind if I,” he pauses, grinning, "Slytherin?"

She purses her lips into a thin, tight line, inhaling deeply as she fights to keep her cool. Yes, there are times when Malfoy's gestures have her questioning her own hatred for him, but this—this is not one of them.

"That," she says, voice mostly level. "Is your seat, Malfoy. I don’t see why you have to ask me."

Which is a lie. [Y/N] knows why, of course. To get her attention. To woo her. But part of her wishes that Malfoy would realize that everything he is doing, from the overbearing pick up lines to the cupcakes to his constant public declarations of love, isn't something that [Y/N] thoroughly enjoys. Does she want him to stop yelling at her in the hallways? Yes. Does she want Crabbe and Goyle to stop bumbling up to her everywhere she goes (outside of the girl's bathroom is one example) offering cupcakes and pie and tarts? Yes. But does she want Malfoy to stop trying entirely?

Maybe not. Maybe part of her wants to give him a chance. He does seem to truly hold feelings, judging from his confession back at the Quidditch stadium, unless he's a terribly good actor.

And it wouldn't just be him she'd be giving a chance, either. Perhaps she'd also be doing so to herself. Because, over the past month, it's baffled her how quickly her feelings for him have shifted. Or maybe it's not a change of feelings, but rather realization that under all that sneering and pureblood prejudice, Draco Malfoy is a boy.

An annoyingly attractive one.

But there is so much more that [Y/N] dislikes about him. His snootiness. His arrogance. His lack of consideration for other people's feelings. He may be tall and lithe and undeniably handsome, and he may have very soft-looking platinum blond hair and stormy grey eyes like dark clouds, but he is also a prick. And that wins over everything else, no matter how.. visually pleasing he is.

So when a paper bird flutters in front of her halfway through the lesson, when Snape’s back is turned, [Y/N] hesitates. She knows fully well who it's from, despite not having to look to the side and meet his gaze.

From beside her, Hermione whispers, "Get rid of it, before Snape sees."

Exhaling, [Y/N] snatches the paper bird and quickly unfolds it.

She doesn't know what she's expecting to see, but it's certainly not the words "meet me at the Astronomy tower after dinner" scribbled across the parchment. And with a drawing of a face blowing kisses, no less.

[Y/N] sighs.

—

[Y/N] has no real feelings for Malfoy, so succumbing to his mysterious evening request at the Astronomy tower shouldn't mean anything.

Scratch that: it doesn't mean anything. Not to her. (Or so she tells herself.) This is a chance for her to tell Malfoy to sod off and to stop courting her. And for good, this time. No matter what that annoying little voice inside her head tells her, she can't possibly even consider the idea of actually giving in to him. (And to herself.)

So she's going to put a stop to it, once and for all.

"I’m going," she decides over dinner, slamming her palms down on the table.

"Going where?" asks Harry.

"The Astronomy tower," she replies resolutely.

"What, to go star-gazing?" Ron snickers. [Y/N] glances at him and realizes, quickly, that telling them had slipped her mind—she'd been far too preoccupied with her own conflicting thoughts.

She shifts in her seat. She doesn't necessarily need to tell them, does she? It's not as though it's important enough to share. And besides, Ron would only badger her about it. Mercilessly. [Y/N] can already picture him in her head, talking about Malfoy and snogging under the stars and Merlin-knows-what-else.

"Nevermind," says [Y/N], taking a bite out of a muffin and looking away. They don't need to know; it's not as though it's important.

—

After [Y/N] has walked up all of the stairs to get there, only taking one or two shortcuts, she's out of breath, but she creeps into the Astronomy tower anyway. It’s mostly dark save for the faint moonshine filtering in from the open sides, and, well—there he is.

Malfoy’s arms are crossed over his chest, his back mostly turned as he stands dangerously close to the railing, looking out over the dark landscape. Dim light catches on the side of his face, illuminating the grey of his eyes.

The curve of his nose.

Pale skin.

White-blond hair.

[Y/N] finds herself staring, one hand on the doorframe as though for support, brows furrowed in the middle in a slight frown as she watches him.

He looks lost in thought. Even from a few feet away, [Y/N] can see the far-off, distant look in his eyes. Like storms brewing behind dark clouds, she thinks to herself. It’s a quiet little whisper in the back of her mind that has her heart doing odd little flips inside of her chest that she never knew it was capable of.

But then she blinks.

This is the last thing [Y/N] needs. To see Malfoy stripped of his arrogance—to see him as he is, bathed in moonlight, glowing, almost. To look at him and to see a boy with eyes like molten silver and nothing more—it's the last thing she needs to convince herself that she doesn't feel something for him that isn't hatred.

No, she doesn't need this.

She turns around, breath caught in her throat, and starts walking down the steps. Accidentally, stupidly, her foot catches on a metal step and a loud clang echoes around the silent tower.

[Y/N] pauses, eyes wide.

"[Y/N]?" Malfoy's voice says. He can't see her. It’s too dark, and [Y/N] is too far down the steps.

She swallows. But instead of dreading what could come, she finds herself waiting, half-hoping that he'd check the staircase, that he would see her and—

And then what?

[Y/N] rushes down the steps, ignoring the loud noise her footsteps make on the way. This is the last thing she needs.

—

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy.

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy, and she is determined to make that clear. (Both to herself and to her friends, although the former seems to be taking a lot more convincing.)

"What is there to like about him? He’s nothing but an annoying pain in the arse who has an overwhelming amount of pride and arrogance simply because of his blood—which is not only something that he never rightfully earned but is also something that shouldn't even bloody matter, except he thinks that it does solely because he is an absolute nutter who has nothing better to do with his life other than leech off of his parents' money and shove it in other people's faces."

Ron meets Harry’s gaze from across the table, who seems to be trying very hard not to laugh. Swallowing down a forkful of pancakes, Ron looks back at [Y/N]. "I’m sorry," he begins slowly. "But remind me again why we're talking about Malfoy?"

"I’m not finished, Ronald," [Y/N] snaps, shooting him a dirty look. Ron raises his eyebrows. "As I was saying before someone so rudely cut me off, Malfoy is a nasty little git who finds joy in making other people suffer. he probably has tiny puppies locked up inside his basement just so he can laugh in their faces and revel in their misery because he is that horrible of a person—"

Harry lurches with poorly suppressed laughter.

"An absolute terrible excuse for a human being! He basks in other people's humiliation—mine, for example!—and I would much rather snog the Giant Squid than ever actually consider his—" She pauses, gritting her teeth. "Odd.. requests."

"It’s not like he's asking you to murder house-elves," Ron mutters.

"Something that I would rather do than date him!"

"[Y/N]!" Hermione gasps, looking genuinely offended as she, for the first time since they'd arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, looks up from the homework she's rushing to finish. (As if her five pieces worth of parchment aren't enough—Flitwick had only asked for three!)

"Sorry, Hermione," [Y/N] says, offering her an apologetic look that she only half-means. This quickly turns into a fierce look of challenge as she swivels back around in her seat to face the redhead sitting next to her. "Honestly, since when have you started defending Malfoy?"

Ron blanches. "I’m not defending him!" he says indignantly, setting his fork down on his plate. "It’s just.. yeah, it's a bit odd that he's declaring his undying love for you out of bloody nowhere, but he's stopped badgering us, hasn't he? Nasty little ferret hasn't said a word to Harry for weeks! And that goes for me and Hermione, too!"

[Y/N] narrows her eyes at him. "So you think it's great that he's stopped annoying you at the cost of my suffering?"

"What suffering!" Ron exclaims. "He’s been treating you like a bloody princess!"

"Oh, why don't you just snog him yourself, then, if you think so highly of him?"

Ron’s jaw drops in shocked offense.

"Alright, that's enough!" Harry announces, reaching over the table to shove the two apart from each other. "Why doesn't one of you switch seats with me before you end up strangling each other?"

"I don't know, Harry," [Y/N]'s lip curls. "I might have to hold Ron back before he goes running off to his ferret prince—or should we just let him? Merlin knows he'd love to, won't you, Ronald?"

Ron’s teeth are gritted; his eyes dart around the food on the table as though looking for the most effective weapon. He seems to be choosing between a green apple and rhubarb pie.

Thankfully, Ron never gets to take his pick. The bell rings, saving everyone in the Great Hall from witnessing what could have possibly been a brawl between friends. "Come on, let's go," says Harry quickly, relief evident in his tone of voice as he ushers the pair to their feet. "Wouldn’t want to be late for class."

—

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy.

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy, but why does she find herself staring at him whenever she comes across him in the hallway the next day? Why, when Malfoy meets her gaze, does she look away and pretend to be immersed in something else?

And why in the bloody hell, when Malfoy playfully winks at her during Potions class, does she find it very, very hard not to smile?

She walks out of the dungeon classroom in a hurry with Ron, Harry, and Hermione, not wanting to spend a minute more in Malfoy's presence; she doesn't particularly enjoy being suddenly hyperaware of every move he makes, every little glance he sends her way when he thinks she isn't paying attention. It’s as though something in her system has gone awry. Is that why her heart feels like it's about to hop right out of her chest? Is that why she can't stop wondering what would've happened if she'd stayed at the Astronomy tower?

"Hey, wait up!” Harry calls loudly as they walk up the stone steps leading away from the dungeons and into the main hallway, which is bustling with students.

[Y/N], who had been walking far too fast in front of the three, looks back over her shoulder and sees that they're a few feet away. She stops, seemingly flustered, and waits for them to catch up.

"You look like you've wet your pants," says Ron.

"I’m not you, Ron," she retorts.

"Oh, can you two please stop bickering for once?" says Hermione, exasperated.

From behind the three, Draco Malfoy emerges from the potions classroom and begins walking up the stone steps. [Y/N]'s hands clench into fists at her side as she discretely presses her back to the stone wall at her sides.

The blond doesn't even as much as glance at Ron, Harry, and Hermione as he passes by them on the steps. [Y/N], however—once Malfoy has reached the step below the one she's standing on, he pauses, no less than two feet away from her, and quirks an eyebrow.

"What?" [Y/N] scowls, trying not to look at the strand of blond hair dangling in front of his eyes.

Malfoy’s gaze dances over her face. "Was it you?"

She meets her friends' eyes over Malfoy's shoulder. Ron and Harry have their eyebrows raised; Hermione looks concerned. [Y/N] takes a moment to compose herself—tries to force her heart back into her chest—before she folds her arms across her chest and looks at the Slytherin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"At the Astronomy tower," Malfoy says, and moves up one step so that he's standing on the same one she's on. A foot away. "I heard someone last night, while I was waiting for you."

Oh, Merlin.

"You came, didn't you?" he presses on.

"No," [Y/N] lies, and hates how defensive she sounds. She shifts a little on her feet, her eyes skirting away to look at a random spot behind Malfoy. "I was.. at the library. Doing things of actual importance."

There’s a slight pause as Malfoy's nose wrinkles. "Must’ve been someone else spying on me, then," he finally says through a scoff, but [Y/N] knows disappointment when she sees it. He rolls his shoulders back and puts on his signature smirk, inclining his head towards her as he takes another step up the stairs. "Better hurry and give me an answer, [Y/N]," he tells her, grinning. "Before one of my admirers get to me first."

[Y/N] watches as he walks up the steps and disappears into the hallway.

"The library?" a voice says incredulously. She turns back to Ron, whose face is scrunched in disbelief. "No, you weren't! We were waiting for you there and you never came."

[Y/N] folds her arms across her chest indignantly but doesn't respond, instead walking up the stone steps.

"Malfoy said he was waiting for you at the Astronomy tower," says Hermione slowly as they trail after her; [Y/N] speeds up her pace. "Is that why you mentioned going there during dinner last night?"

[Y/N] emerges into the main corridor first. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did!" bursts Ron, sounding downright triumphant.

"Congratulations, Ron, you don't have the memory range of a teaspoon, after all," [Y/N] mutters, looking around. Malfoy is walking down the hallway a few feet ahead of them, Crabbe and Goyle at his side.

Ron ignores her. "I bet you did go. I bet you did spy on him—" And then he gasps, looking as though he's unearthed the secret of life. "Merlin’s beard, you really do fancy him, don't you?"

[Y/N]'s footsteps falter. Ron, Harry, and Hermione stop right with her.

Hermione is the only one who doesn't look stunned out of her mind. Looking between the two boys, she rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Honestly, is that so hard to believe?" says Hermione, frowning. "I understand that it's Malfoy and he is a prick, but [Y/N] is perfectly entitled to fancy whoever she likes." She turns to [Y/N]. "It’s fine, [Y/N], you don't have to feel guilty about it. Anyone would catch feelings if someone started doing such sweet things for them, even if it were someone like Malfoy."

"Blimey," says Harry, breathless. "Which part sealed the deal, [Y/N]? The pick-up lines? Or was it the cupcakes?"

[Y/N], who had been opening and closing her mouth like a fish blown out of water, finally stops trying to find words that just aren't there and instead drags her palm across her face in frustration. "I don't.." she says, sounding defeated, but really—now that she's faced with such confrontation, it's easier to admit to herself that maybe.. maybe she does fancy Malfoy.

Ron’s lips have split into a jubilant grin. ”I called it!" he says, smacking Harry's shoulder. "Bloody knew it!"

Hermione reaches out to rub [Y/N]'s back. "Don’t feel too bad about it, [Y/N]. I sort of knew—you looked at him differently after he confessed to you on the pitch."

[Y/N] sighs, realizing that no amount  of denying it will convince her friends. Or herself.

She does fancy Malfoy.

Properly acknowledging it—finally admitting it to herself—is oddly relieving. She’s been keeping her feelings cooped up inside of her chest despite the fact they are so much bigger than her, and now that she's letting them burst free.. now that she's coming to terms with them..

Well. It’s not the worst feeling ever.

Ron is still beaming, looking as though he's won the lottery. And apparently, in a way, he has: "Fred and George said it'd take you a month longer to give in. I said it'd take you less—guess I’ve won myself two galleons!"

[Y/N]'s mouth falls open. "You bet on this?"

Ron raises his eyebrows, as though surprised to hear that she didn't know. "Uh, I and the entire bloody castle."

Struck by a sudden burst of both annoyance and confidence, [Y/N], scowling, detaches herself from her friends and strides down the hallway towards Malfoy, full of intent. He hasn't noticed her yet; his back is still turned, but she catches up to him easily. And when she does, she unceremoniously bumps her shoulder into his and grabs his hand, quickly interlacing her fingers through his.

"What the hell—"

Malfoy, obviously taken aback, tries to pull his hand away, sneering, until his gaze lands on [Y/N].

"Keep walking, Malfoy," she says scathingly, not quite looking at him.

Baffled, Malfoy stares at her, then down at their hands, which are now tightly interlocked between them. [Y/N] scowls resolutely at the hallway ahead of her.

And then Malfoy laughs, more out of disbelief than amusement.

"Keep walking," [Y/N] repeats, this time turning to look at him, fighting to keep her gaze indifferent. The last thing she wants Malfoy to know is that there is an onslaught of tiny little butterflies rampaging in her stomach and a tingly feeling spreading from their hands all the way up her spine and into her heart.

Malfoy’s lips tug up into a wide grin—a real one, [Y/N] thinks. Not an arrogant smirk or a deprecating sneer; one that she can't ever recall seeing. But now that she has, she finds herself wishing he'd do it more often.

[Y/N] tugs him along as she walks, feeling the stunned stares of her friends boring into her skull from behind. (Ron is going to have a field day about this.)

"So," Malfoy begins, and she doesn't have to look at him to know that he's still grinning down at her. "Changed your mind, haven't you?"

[Y/N] rolls her eyes; she doesn't fail to notice the way that the students they're passing by are staring at them, eyes wide, whispering to themselves. "Isn’t this what you wanted?"

Malfoy shrugs. "Among other things."

She side-eyes him, muttering, "Does that include snogging?"

He makes an amused sound at the back of his throat. "You said it, not me."

[Y/N] has to grit her teeth to stop the corners of her lips from tugging up. They turn a corner down the hallway, disappearing from both their friends' views (assuming they haven't followed them). At this thought, [Y/N] takes a brief glance over her shoulder—and sure enough, there's a redhead peeking out of a group of very confused Ravenclaws.

Cursing Ron Weasley inside her head, she turns her gaze back ahead of her. ”I have Charms class next."

Malfoy raises his brows. "And what do you expect me to do with that information?"

"Walk me there," says [Y/N] briskly.

She can practically feel the surprise radiating off of the blond next to her. A moment later, he throws his head back in a loud laugh. "And you want me to be late to Transfiguration? It’s all the way on the other side of the castle."

[Y/N] hums. "Can’t even do that for the girl you fancy?"

There’s a beat of silence. His grip on her hand falters a little as he says, voice still nonchalant and yet at the same time holding an undeniable sense of sincerity, "I could if I knew she wasn't leading me on."

"She isn't," [Y/N] says, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

Malfoy is staring at her with his brows pulled in together just slightly at the middle, giving off the impression that he's trying to decide whether or not she's being serious. He slows down his pace until he comes to a full stop, urging [Y/N] to halt alongside him until they're standing in the middle of the hallway, oblivious to the stares following them and the redhead a mere few feet away.

"How do I know this isn't a prank?" says Malfoy, lip slowly curling as he narrows his eyes at her, the first few traces of suspicion etching itself onto his face now that the whole ridiculousness of the situation has finally sunken in. [Y/N] can't blame him; her antics—suddenly marching up to him in the hallway, grabbing his hand and walking with him as though they've been doing it for years—all of it is uncalled for after having ruthlessly turned him down so many times before. But [Y/N] can't delve into a discussion of her conflicting emotions—at least not right now—so she hopes, at least for now, that he will take her word for it.

She clears her throat.  "Well," she begins, looking down at their hands; Malfoy’s grip has gone slack. "If I wanted to hold your hand, I’d do it because I wanted to. Not because I wanted to get a rise out of you." She lets her gaze go back up to his, brows rising in familiar challenge. "I don't stoop that low, Malfoy. You’ve been in love with me for years—shouldn't you know that by now?"

There are a few seconds in which the blond standing before her still looks at her with a scrutinizing gaze, lips set into a thin, hard line and his eyes swimming with conflict that [Y/N] wouldn't have been able to see from afar, but sees in perfect clarity now that she's standing a mere foot away from him. But then, after what feels like ages, Malfoy nods, slowly, frown smoothing out into an expression of—could that be relief?

"I will be late for Transfiguration, you know," he says, lips quirking up into a grin.

[Y/N] laughs. (A real one, Draco thinks to himself.) This time she doesn't try to stop herself from smiling; just lets her lips do so of their own accord. It feels nice. Freeing. "Better just one of us than two, don't you think?" she says, mirroring his playful grin. "And besides, Goyle can stand in for you. You two do have quite the resemblance."

"Oh, sod off."

And it really is very odd, because everything about this shouldn't feel right; they've been enemies for the longest time, and a year ago, [Y/N] would have been revolted at the mere idea of ever coming close to Draco Malfoy—but it does. That is, it feels right. Like they've been this way for ages and this playful, harmless banter is the most natural thing.

Draco isn't perfect—Merlin, does he have a long way to go—but if he means to stop being a prat as long as [Y/N] is at his side, then she is willing to venture into whatever has formed between them.

And if this little bond is going to involve any more of this—this being her and Draco exaggeratedly swinging their arms between them as he walks her to Charms class with their fingers still intertwined, snickering, waiting for one of them to start complaining about their arm sockets hurting—then maybe it isn't the worst thing ever, after all.

[bokunosimpfiction]

Yandere!Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Synopsis: Heisenberg kidnaps the reader. And she’s pissed about it. And so is he. Turns out there’s a lot more to it than it seems, tw: kidnapping I’m not tagging for violence because it’s less graphic than even the mild stuff in canon. Like reader gets a concussion and a dislocated arm, that’s it.

A/N: first time ever writing for Resident Evil. I haven’t even played the games, only watched a play-through and immediately fell in love with this hobo. Honestly, there’s a lot of room to make a sequel or some more from this but I have commitment issues and it probably won’t happen.

Oh and one last thing! Do you think I should add resident evil: village to my fandoms I write for or no. Let me know please!

             It’s dark in your small cottage, claustrophobic with the way you stumble to the front door as fast as you can. You try to take deep breaths, but you can’t, not with someone chasing you. You cut through the kitchen, and when he reaches out to grab you, you slam the door to a cabinet as hard as you can. You can hear his pained yell.

             “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, (y/n),” he says.

             “I’ll make it as hard as I damn please!” You put your hand on the handle to the front door, twist and right before you manage to open it, a body slams into yours and you hear your arm pop. Loudly. And it burns at the elbow like someone poured gasoline on it and set it on fire.

             You can hear his heavy breathing and feel the warm air on the crown of your head. “You put up a good fight, I’ll give you that much.” He presses his body further into yours, and you feel everything. The toned muscle under a layer of fat, the harsh fabric of his shirt and jacket, and the bulge that presses into the small of your back.

             “You’re so small,” he coos, like he’s talking to a dog, “I can’t wait to break you.”

             You manage to wiggle one arm free and jab him in the side as hard as you can with your elbow. You hear him say oof under his breath, and you take this as the opportunity to press your foot into the door and push back into him as hard as you can, to at least get him to stumble back.

             It doesn’t work, he just leans his whole-body weight on you and uses one hand to smash your head into the door. He could have done it harder, you reckon, but it still hurts like a mother fucker. “Shut the fuck up before I do something I regret.”

             “Like you don’t already regret breaking into my house and trying to kidnap me? Like you don’t regret slamming me into my door and dislocating my elbow? What are you going to do to me that you’ll regret? Huh?”

             He looks down at you through those yellow glasses of his, light from the glass peephole reflecting off of them but his hat shading the rest of his face. “I said shut the fuck up!” He presses your head even further into the door, and your temple digs into the frame. It hurts, and your eyes water from the pain.

             “Who even are you?!” You end up shouting. His grip loosens a little bit, just enough for you to move your head off the door frame and onto the actual door. “I’ve never met you in my goddamn life and you break into my house, say you love me, and try to kidnap me!”

             Something in him breaks, you can tell, the outline of his features look crestfallen. “You don’t know who I am?”

             “No… I don’t. And here you are in my house, chasing me around like I’m some goddamn animal you’re hunting.” Your eyes water. “I know you don’t mean a damn word you said this entire time.”

             “Shut your goddamn trap woman!” His grip on your hair tightens. “I love you and we both know it; I know everything about you.”

             “So, you’re a stalker? Huh, didn’t think I was pretty enough to have one.”

             “I knew you had a mouth on you, and it was attractive till it was pointed in my direction.” His voice is low and gravelly at this point, like a thin string that’s pulled taut and about to snap.

             “Well get used to it you fu-” You don’t get to finish your sentence, because a piece of metal from his hammer slams you hard in the face, knocking you out cold.

             When you wake up, it’s hard to open your eyes. It’s too bright and the room is spinning when you move your head up. That must be one hell of a bump on your forehead. You go to feel it, only to find you hands chained up to a metal pipe on the wall. Your feet are too, but that chain is a lot slacker.

             You’re lying down on the floor, a cheap scratchy blanket separating you from rough, worn down cement. It’s still hard and cold, but it didn’t scratch up your skin, so that’s something to be grateful for. You look around the room, only to find an old tv, that’s on, and playing static. That’s what was so bright, you realize.

             Suddenly the noise from the t.v. stops, and you hear a voice. It’s still sounds like static, but it’s audible enough to understand the words and recognize the voice. It’s the same guy who kidnapped you. You don’t really process what he’s saying, it’s just noise to you, and you close your eyes and curl up as best as you can. Maybe you’ll wake up, and everything will be okay.

             “Quit ignoring me girlie.”

             You snap out of your daydreaming. The days of that warm bed and leaky bathroom faucet are over, and this cruel situation is your reality for the time being.

             “Okay. Okay. But just quiet down my head hurts.”

             “I’d be sorry, but you brought that upon yourself,” he says.

             You can’t help but be snarky, you’re tired and already sick of this shit. “I’m sorry you don’t have the self-control to not kidnap people and knock them unconscious via flying pieces of metal.”

             “Touché.” You hear back.

             “Can you at least get me some Tylenol for my head or something.”

             “Why should I? After all the attitude you’ve given me, I should just leave you in there to starve.” Looks like he knows how to be snarky too.

             “Because you were the one who hit me in the head and locked me in here?”

             “Apologize and I’ll consider it.”

             You go back to your curled up position. “I guess I’ll just starve down here then.”

             The t.v. cuts off again, or you just tune him out, just run your hands along the chains to try and find a lock. You find the one attached to your left ankle and begin to plot your escape. Maybe you could pick the lock with a bobby pin? You run your hands through your hair, not only to find that it was down, but all of them were removed.

             You run your hands down your pajama pants. Maybe you have something in your pockets? They also turn up empty.

               “Are you looking for something to pick the lock with?” You hear from the t.v. You turn back to look at it, only to see his face. He’s not wearing his glasses, and he’s taken off his worn-out bucket hat, so you can see his untamed salt and pepper hair. “I took the liberty of searching your person while you were knocked out. I highly doubt you’ll find something to pick the lock with.”

             “You’re an asshole, you know that.” You find yourself saying. To be fair, you probably shouldn’t, considering that he: is holding you hostage, threatening to leave you to starve, and is clearly a psychopath, despite his claims that he loves you.

             “Calm down, you know it makes me upset to see you mad.”

             You can’t help but raise your voice at him. “Quit fucking taunting me! You won this stupid ass game. You kidnapped me! You can come down here and kill me now!”

             “You think I wanna kill you?” He asks, you can tell he’s just as furious as you are. He chuckles lightly. “You know I love you. I did this for your own good! There are people out there. People who want to taint you and your innocence! People who want to hurt you!”

             “I can handle myself just fine! I had before your psycho ass came along and kidnapped me!” Your furious, desperately searching for a weak point on the pipe with your hands while you yell at the t.v.

             “And what would have happened if I didn’t?” He asks you, “lady supersized bitch in the castle would have gotten to you first… I can’t have that.”

             “I’m sorry who?” You ask. Suddenly things have gotten more confusing.

             “I’m not the only one who’s after you,” he clarifies. “You think I’m the one who’s a psychopath, there’s a woman out there who wants to drink your blood and eat your flesh! And monster that wants to drown you and swallow you whole-”

             “Slow down! I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about!”

             “Don’t interrupt me! I want what’s best for you!” You can hear him take a deep breath. “I’m going to bring you upstairs and explain everything. And you’re going to behave, am I clear?”

             You just nod your head.

             “Good. Now stop trying to find a weak point on that pipe to get loose before I get down there. It has carbon monoxide in there, you’ll poison yourself before you get to that door.”

             You immediately stop twisting the connector and drop your hands to your sides.

             “Good girl…” His praise makes you want to vomit. “Now stay still while I come get you.”

             When he comes down and opens that iron door and unceremoniously tosses you over his shoulder, you can’t help but comment on it. “Am I a bag of potatoes to you?”

             “Don’t complain, I could be like that Dimitrescu bitch and turn you into wine.”

             You shut up immediately and grasp the back of his coat for balance. You don’t know why, but his empty threats scare you immensely. You watch the hallways blur into one another, trying to see if you can find a window, or an escape rout of some sort, hell, even a vent he couldn’t fit in but you could would work well.

             He smacks your thigh. Not hard, but enough for a slight sting and to get your attention. “We’re in the center of the factory, there’s no need for you to be tracking an escape route, especially because you won’t be leaving any time soon.”

             Eventually, you end up in a small office like space, with a desk, a cork board with several pictures of people on it, and a large grate that leads to a tunnel downwards. He pulls the metal chair out of the corner with his powers and places you in the chair. “Stay.”

             “So…” He turns towards the cork board. “Since your out of town, I’ll explain the run-down-“

             “I don’t really care for the details.” You stand up from the chair and go to walk towards him, but he crosses the room in a second and slams you back down.

             “I told you to stay in that goddamn chair!” He opens his mouth to explain but a whirring noise starts out of nowhere. It’s loud, obnoxious, and coming from the vent. He opens it. “Shut your goddamn trap!”

             “Anyhow, (Y/N),” he starts, “the other three lords decided that they’re interested in you, for whatever their reasons are. I’m assuming they want to kill you.”

             “That’s a veeeeeery extreme assumption.” You roll your eyes, and prop your head on your hands.

             “Well two of them are well know for turning people into dolls and drinking their blood,” he says casually, “it’s only a fair assumption they want to do the same with you.”

             “I’m sorry they what?”

             He turns to you, surprised for a moment that you don’t know what he’s talking about. “Super-sized bitch over here,” a sharp piece of metal lands on the photo of a pale, middle aged woman with bold red lipstick and a black hat, “is one of the other three lords, known for drinking the blood of girls like yourself. Wouldn’t suggest meeting her, she’s not that pleasant.”

             “Known for?”

             “Sort of, most of the towns people don’t know,” he turns to you and leans on the table by the cork board, “they’re too busy worshipping Mother Miranda.”

             “I’ve heard her name before,” you say, “doesn’t she protect the town?”

             You can sense the anger you caused before you can take it back.

             “That Miranda bitch doesn’t protect anybody from shit. She’s the one causing all the issues, kidnapping people and mutating them, killing them and throwing their lives away like table scraps.” You slams his hand on the table and you visibly flinch. He quickly apologizes.

             “You keep mentioning ‘the other three lords’ how many are there, and who’s the one your excluding in that statement?” You question as soon as you get the chance. He’s talking, loudly, quickly and it’s filling up the space in the room with an anxious sort of white noise.

             “Pardon me,” he says, and waltzes over, almost over-dramatically. He brings your hand to his lips and places a light kiss. You can feel his stubble and chapped lips on the top of your hand. He desperately needs to use chap-stick. “I’m Heisenberg, one of the four lords, but you can call me Karl.”

             “Okay… Karl.” You test the name out on your tongue. “What are you going to do with me, now that I’m here?”

             He gets down on one knee in front of you, still holding your hand. “Oh (Y/N), I’m going to treat you how you deserve, like a princess.”

[cdroloisms]

Dream tried to stop Wil from creating L'Manburg, Phil tried to stop him from blowing it up, BOTH value people over items and builds, Phil has said that they're replaceable but people aren't, Dream traded spirit for his best friends fishes (we kno he's not someone to talk abt feelings:[) BOTH were kind and selfless but used by almost if not everyone, BOTH were ready to be THE VILLAINS if it meant everyone else could live better after. ONE of them always had someone there, ONE didn't. Intentional?

aaaa sorry for the really inconsistent posts ,, im gonna try to post a little more in the next few days. i have a few things written up, so look out for them? maybe? for now, have this *gestures vaguely* thing ,, it’s kinda a mess but *shrug*

phil is such a fun character, anon, especially for all the reasons that you mentioned in the ask!! he’s a really fun character with a lot of complexities that go (sadly) overlooked by a large portion of the fandom, but he’s super cool even tho i havent analyzed him too much. hope you enjoy (and i hope my interpretation of c!phil isnt too ooc lmao) 

tw: mentioned blood, injury, implied torture/abuse, starvation, trauma, mentioned death, prison arc/pandora’s vault

When Techno first brings Dream back from the prison, Phil doesn’t quite know what to think.

“I don’t trust him either,” Techno assures him, but there’s a flickering anger in the backs of his eyes, one that had emerged ever since he came back from the prison with the other man in his arms, and Phil knows his friend well enough to know that the words are empty in the face of the piglin hybrid’s particular brand of to-the-death loyalty. He shakes his head in reply, refusing to voice his thoughts for Techno’s sake, at least, but the look that the other slants at him suggests that he’s caught onto them all the same.

At first, the work is thankfully mindless; even if Phil has reservations on the man that Techno has more or less dumped into his house, he would hardly wish the clear suffering he’s been through on anyone. The first few days pass in a flurry of brewing potions, wrapping and rewrapping dressings, stitching up cuts and setting broken bones straight. The damage is extensive; Phil has to take more than a few breaks to just leave the house and breathe - he’s far from a stranger to blood and carnage, had received the title of ‘Angel of Death’ for a reason, but even he had never been particularly familiar with this form of cruelty. Torture was a level of violence that extended beyond what even he was willing to bestow - his hands may have caused many deaths, and the weight of each one would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, but even those had the mercy of being a quick end. The wounds and scars that ripple over Dream’s skin, thin and stretched tightly over his bones with little muscle and fat left to cushion them, speak of horrors that were anything but merciful.

“I didn’t know they were capable of all of this,” Techno says, once, as they huddle of Dream, wringing towels in cold water to wipe his feverish skin. Techno’s hand reaches for the ribboning gold-filled scars that remain from the execution - carefully, Phil raises his hand to let his fingertips brush over them as well. “I mean, I knew he was dangerous and all, but-”

“I know, mate,” Phil looks back at Dream’s face, tight even in unconsciousness, at the darkened, hand-shaped bruises that remain around his throat, at the scar that runs over his left eye, clearly meant to mirror the same one that makes its way down the duck hybrid’s own face. “You said that Quackity and Sam were working together?”

“Yeah,” Techno’s expression darkens, eyes focused somewhere on the wall, seemingly very far away. He said that nothing happened to him in the prison, and he seemed relatively unharmed when Phil activated the stasis chamber, but ever since he came back, sometimes he’ll have moments, and Phil can’t help but - wonder. “Quackity does the dirty work, Sam gives him the way in and out, probably also the tools to do it. It’s-” he huffs a short, self-recriminating laugh. “It’s bad, Phil.”

“Mate-”

Techno shoots him a look, and Phil cringes, knowing already that he’d used the wrong tone. Even with the execution, Techno had been adamant to hide all traces of his own terror and fear away from him, masking it all with fury for Phil’s own sake. He knows, just from the way his old friend looks at the ribboning scars that remain sometimes, that he is far from as over the whole ordeal as he acts, but Techno never wants to talk and Phil never knows the right time to ask and they smooth it all behind plans and explosions and hope that the TNT can blow apart the trauma, too. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the same thing is going to happen, here.

“As soon as we can,” Techno starts again, pointedly shifting his eyes away from Phil’s face, “we’re calling a Syndicate meeting to figure out what we’re going to do about the prison. Like- come on, man, you couldn’t make a more transparent abuse of institutional power if you tried, really-” he looks over, uncharacteristic uncertainty warring over his features. “If you think that’s good, I mean-“

“Of course, mate.” Phil’s voice softens. “Whenever you’re ready.”

‘Whenever he’s ready,’ as it turns out, is easier said than done, becoming even more evident when their charge wakes up from his days long spell of unconsciousness. The worst of his injuries have, under their careful care and the benefit of many potions, healed enough to no longer directly threaten his life, but the vast majority have quite some time to go before being healed completely. Being as the goal was torture and not death, most of his injuries weren’t made to be life-threatening, but rather to cause as much pain as possible - from the grimace that twists Dream’s face when he struggles to force himself awake, they’re doing their jobs.

“Hey, mate, slow down,” Phil murmurs, pressing the man down by his shoulder when Dream weakly tries to push himself up and off the bed, and his struggling only lasts for a few more minutes before he gives up and slumps against his pillow, eyes cracking open and seeming surprisingly lucid.

“Where-“ his voice is wrecked, and Phil reaches for the glass of water at the bedside as Dream coughs. “Where am I?”

“You’re at Techno’s house,” Dream’s eyes widen and then slip closed as he processes the information, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as they knit together. “We broke you out, after Techno escaped with a stasis chamber with your book. Do you remember?”

Dream gnaws on his bottom lip. “Um- yeah. I think.” His head turns as his eyes crack open again- “Techno-“

“He’s out, right now. He’ll be back in a bit.”

“Oh.” Dream falls back into the bed, strength seemingly sapped from the short conversation. His breathing stutters, then steadies. “Okay.”

Recovery is slow. Phil doesn’t actually find himself seeing the man very often; now that he doesn’t need around-the-clock care anymore, he’s moved back into his own house, letting Techno do most of the work when it comes to rehabilitating the escaped convict crashing at his house. As he begins to spend more of his time awake and aware, he brings a whole slew of new problems; Phil catches him screaming one day, blurting harsh, angry words as Techno reads, unbothered from the other side of the room, and he stops in his tracks standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Um-“ he winces when Dream curses, smashes something against the floor, and then curls into himself at the sound. Techno doesn’t even flinch. “Am I interrupting something?”

Dream stomps away, face flushed, arms wrapped around himself. Techno raises an eyebrow.

“You lookin’ for something, Phil?” he asks, and the unpleasant knot in Phil’s chest refuses to unwind.

The episodes, unfortunately, don’t seem to get much better. Though he’s rarely outright violent, Dream looks constantly murderous, usually muttering underneath his breath about something or another while he stalks the grounds of Techno’s house. It’s not too long before Techno sends him out to work around the house instead of just moping within the cottage, which also means that Phil sees him a lot more - tending to a small farm behind the house, feeding the dogs, hacking away at mobs, and usually complaining the entire time. It’s unnerving, even as injured and unarmored as the man is, to see him walking around like this; despite his rather pathetic appearance, swamped in sweaters that dwarf him thoroughly and thin enough to look like the slightest breeze will knock him over, his eyes are flinty and intelligent and bubble with promises of revenge.

“FUCK!” Phil turns to see him slamming a shovel into the snow, stomping away into the woods, and his hands tighten around his cup of tea. Next to him, Techno shrugs.

“Nerd’s got a few issues,” he drawls, and Phil laughs shortly.

“That seems like an understatement.”

“He’ll ease up in time,” Techno sounds surprisingly confident, completely content despite the muffled curses that come from the woods next to them. He’s probably used to it, with Chat and all, but Phil can’t quite seem to find the same calm.

“I just don’t know, mate,” Phil shakes his head. “You sure having him around is the best idea? He doesn’t seem...stable.”

Techno looks up at him over the rim of his cup of coffee. His head tilts, considering, but there’s a small smile on his face that tells Phil that Techno, inexplicably, doesn’t share the same sentiments. There was always a part of him that was, for the lack of a better word, softer than the rest of the server for his self-proclaimed rival, a sort of understanding that Phil could hardly hope (nor would really want to) understand.

“Don’t worry, Phil, if he tries anything I can always just tie him up in the attic or something,” Phil huffs a small laugh, amused, and nods to concede the point. “And- well, call it intuition. You could really try talkin’ to him, you know. He reminds me of you, sometimes.”

The words stick in his head despite his best efforts, rattling in his skull when he tries to sleep, lingering when he catches glimpses of the green-clothed man stalking around their properties. He can’t imagine what would’ve prompted his old friend to make the comparison, can’t think of a single thing (besides their affinity for the color green) that would mark him as similar to the - from what he’s heard - deranged menace with a particular penchant for destruction (not that his rants and fits of anger are doing anything to correct that impression). Even so, Techno had sounded so sure when he’d made the comparison, the words offhand like he’d thought them a million times before, like it was a simple observation that held no more weight than commenting on the color of the sky. Phil watches as Dream lugs a pile of logs behind him, huffing at one of Techno’s dogs that comes to chase and nip at his feet and grumbling loudly before faceplanting into the snow. He just...can’t see it.

Days later, Wilbur comes to visit, a grin on his lips as he dramatically recounts his newest exploit: a nation by Las Nevadas, a supposed safe haven away from the glitter and glory of Quackity’s city; it sounds brilliant, it sounds lovely, and more than anything it sounds stupid, and Phil tells him as such immediately.

“You’re being reckless,” he rants at his son, wings flaring outwards and only barely noticing Dream watching from the corner of his eye, “What are you doing- picking fights with Quackity? Starting another nation- didn’t you see what happened to the first two you made? You’re going to get yourself killed, Wil!”

“Well, I’ve already seen what’s on the other side of death, and it’s really not that bad-“

“You’re my son!” The words are angrier than Phil would’ve liked, and he knows that he looks ridiculous and overbearing, criticizing the actions of his fully grown son, but all he can see is Wilbur’s face, slack with pain and grief, stained with ash and soot as his eyes flutter to half-mast in the midst of the rubble of a country he loved and destroyed and destroyed him in turn. “I can’t lose you again, Wil!”

Wilbur doesn’t quite storm out, but it’s a near thing, leaving with a clipped goodbye and leaving Phil seething on his doorstep. He spends the rest of the night pacing around the house in a sort of mad frenzy, wings stretching and folding over and over. Not for the first time, he longs for the sky, to feel the air through his wings and let the world fall into pinpricks below him; it’s this that leads him to the roof of his house, staring stubbornly at the clouds as the sun sinks down to the horizon.

“Hey.”

Phil startles; there, down below him, is Dream. He rocks back on his heels, seeming awkward, before clambering up the wall (Phil rolls his eyes at the ease with which he scales it, the feeling in his chest almost fond) and settling himself on the shingles at Phil’s side.

“Hey, mate,” Phil shakes his head. The fondness leaves, and the irritation that had risen at Wilbur’s words, earlier, comes back full-force. “Sorry- Wil came to visit, we talked. I just needed some time to think.”

Dream hums in acknowledgement, and they fall into a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipping down past the mountains in the distance.

“You know,” Dream starts, sudden, “I told him the same thing.” He looks up at Phil, eyes faraway with old memories. “Wilbur, I mean. When he made L’manburg- I told him he was being reckless.” He shrugs. “I guess he never listened.”

Phil pauses, Techno’s words ringing in his ears. He reminds me of you, sometimes.

Dream looks surprisingly normal up close - face no longer reddened with fever or pale from blood loss, even the scars fail to really take from the boyishness of his face. He bites his lips, eyes falling away at Phil’s scrutiny, golden blond hair flopping over his forehead, newly trimmed to be something a little closer to his old length, at least in the front, the back pulled into a small ponytail. He’s young, and shockingly awkward, teeth worrying his lip, hands fiddling with each other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times a minute. He looks like a kid.

“He never does,” Phil lets himself smile, watches as Dream smiles back, almost like they’re sharing a joke. He wonders how well he really knows the man behind the mask. “Want to come in for some tea?”

Dream smiles wider, and something old and worn in Phils chest, knocked loose ever since he felt his son fall limp in his arms with his own sword shoved between his ribs, falls back into place.

“That would be great,” Dream replies, the words almost hopeful, and they go inside.

[shutupanddance]

Bones / Reader — Remember Me

Hey my fellow fan fiction people, I have MAJOR writer’s block, and I really want to get these requests done, so I’m hoping that this will snap me out of it.

Warning: this is angst!!

How would Bones react to your death?

Normal text is present time, and blocks of italic text are memories!

Enjoy ;)

Dr. Leonard McCoy is experiencing a “slow day” in medbay. Not that there isn’t the occasional ensign coming in with a scrape or broken bone, but it’s nothing like when the away missions come back.

Speaking of away missions, you were on one now. You weren’t scheduled to come back for a week, though. You were a microbiologist, so your missions were usually much longer, and consisted of more time going back and forth between your lab on the Enterprise and the planet you were stationed on. 

The personnel staff realized pretty quickly that very little got done when you and McCoy were on a mission together. The doctor was so worried for his fiancé that he spent more time making sure you were safe than doing his job. So, it was a rare thing nowadays that you’d be put on a mission together.

Spock is suddenly in medbay.

“What are you doing here?” Leonard grumbles, glancing over his shoulder.

When Spock doesn’t respond immediately, he turns. Something is wrong, Leonard can tell. But whether Spock has a common cold or the ship is about to explode, he can’t tell.

“Captain Kirk requires your assistance on the bridge.” Spock states coolly. Odd.

“Are you sure? Can’t he just ask me through a holopad like everyone else-”

“Please come with me, doctor.”

Doctor McCoy follows, but he grumbles the whole way.

As soon as he’s in the elevator, another team rushes into medbay. They’re surrounding a gurney. And attached to that gurney is a heart monitor, which is beeping slow. Dangerously slow.

You’re not really sure why you got picked for the Enterprise. I mean, it’s Starfleet’s flagship, for crying out loud! But here you are, working away in one of the most advanced labs you’ve ever seen, floating many many miles from home.

You’re still processing all this when a beaker slips out of your hands, and shatters violently on the floor.

Luckily, no one else is in your lab right now. You stay calm, walking on careful feet, and retrieve a broom. As you’re sweeping, though, you realize blood is running down your fingers.

One of the shards of glass must have flown up and cut me, you realize.

You carefully wrap the small wound and apply pressure, then begin walking to medbay. 

The nurses don’t immediately notice you, probably because you’re just standing there looking like you’re out for an evening stroll, but soon enough one happens to glance directly at the gauze you have wrapped around your forearm.

“Oh, dear!” She says, guiding you to a bed. “Dr! Dr. McCoy!”

Out from a nearby office walks Dr. Leonard McCoy. He’s got dark hair, the most alert eyes you’ve ever seen, and damn he’s hot.

“What happened to you?” He grunts.

“Beaker broke. Shard of glass flew up and cut me. No other injuries, and there’s no glass in the wound. I was able to stop most of the bleeding, but I think I’ll need stitches.”

An eyebrow goes up.

“Alright, why don’t you sit down and I’ll take a look.”

You didn’t know it, but in that moment, Leonard McCoy nearly fell head over heels for you. And all he showed for it was a raised eyebrow.

The Captain will not stop insisting that he needs a plan for contagious diseases on the Enterprise.

“We already have one,” Leonard reminds him.

“But will it work? Do we have one for different situations? For instance, if we’re docked on a hostile planet-”

“Are you trying to keep me from my job!?” Leonard asks, more as a pointed jab, but when the room grows uncomfortably silent, he realizes he’s right on the money.

What else does he realize? That every face in the room looks forlorn. And a bit defeated.

“What’s got everyone so depressed?” He asks, swiveling to see the entire bridge crew. No one answers.

Finally, Spock clears his throat.

“We wanted to keep you away from medbay while the doctor’s worked on Y/N.”

There’s a moment, a brief moment, where Leonard’s brain stops working. And he’s paralyzed with fear. But, it doesn’t last for long.

“WHAT!?!”

Jim steps in.

“She was injured on the away mission. Some animal we’ve never seen before came out of nowhere and attacked.”

Bones is trying to get away.

“She saved everyone else’s lives by luring the beast away, doc,” one of the crew is saying, but he doesn’t care. He needs to get to you-

The door to the bridge rolls open. M’Benga is standing there.

And Leonard has never seen the man look so guilty, so distressed, so sad.

“Watch the Coreolis Anjankus!” You say, pulling a red shirt away from a very poisonous plant. You pass him to Dr. McCoy, who pushes him even farther away.

“I thought you were a microbiologist?” He chuckles.

“With a minor in botany!” You smile.

You were one of the few scientists Leonard found to be cool under pressure, and the only one with real common sense. Still, despite all you knew about the dangers of every planet, you were always completely relaxed. If he was being honest, the doctor envied you (just a little bit).

“Tell, me, how did you get stuck with this motley crew?” He asks, eyes trained on the Captain, watching for any dangers.

“I’m not really sure,” you admit. “They just sent me a message one day asking if I wanted to join.”

“And you said yes.”

“Of course I did! Have you seen the labs on the ship?!”

Leonard laughs.

“I’m a nerd, I know, but this assignment is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

Dr. McCoy finds himself staring at you, suddenly. He doesn’t really remember how he got here. All he can think of is the fact that your heart’s not beating. That your body is mangled and bloody and despite M’Benga attempting to close the wounds, you look horrible.

It seems ironic, almost, in that instant. The woman who never worried about anything is lying mauled in a biobed. Dead.

The medical idea of death has settled in Leonard’s mind. No beating heart, no brain activity. But what he can’t wrap his head around is you being gone. You’ve  always been there. And, for a moment, he’s convinced that if he sniffles too loud, you’ll hand him a tissue. If he mentions he’s hungry, you’ll wake back up, dig through your duffel bag, and pull some food out.

But you’re not moving.

“Where’s her duffel bag?” He asks, voice as loud and cranky as ever.

Kirk hands your bag over.

Bones reaches in, and digs around until he feels something soft. A teddy bear. He places it on your chest, and lifts your arms to hug it. The soft fur stains with blood.

It’s a horrific scene, the one in front of them.

A village destroyed by a massive storm system. Houses leveled, fields of crops uprooted, and hundreds of people injured or dying or dead.

But you’re standing there, cool and calm as ever, handing out blankets. You smile gently at each villager who steps up, and ask them in one of their native languages what else they need. You direct them to different crew members who can help.

One kid walks up, so young you have to crouch to be eye-level with them. He’s alone. And he looks so terrified, so empty, that you immediately wrap him in a hug. He clings on for dear life.

When he finally let’s go, you begin to explain to him that he needs to see the doctor. He shakes his head so hard you’re afraid his neck will snap. You say some more words in his language, and reach into your duffel bag.

You pull out a teddy bear. The boy smiles, ever so slightly, and immediately gives it a tight hug.

You speak encouragement at him, something about bravery, and the little boy makes his way over to the medical tent with his head held high.

All this Leonard watches. You look at him. He looks at you. And for a while, an unspoken respect passes between the two of you.

He asks you later why you had the teddy bear.

“I always have one on me,” you smile sadly. “You never know when you might need one.”

The ship docks at Command, and the usual celebratory revelries aren’t being heard. The crew is somber.

Your body, encased in a beautiful casket, is loaded onto a small carrier vehicle. Jim, Leonard, and Spock follow it as it weaves its way through the halls.

Your parents are there, and the funeral is quick. No one can really find the strength to say what they want to. No one can choke through their tears long enough to tell your story.

Bones is the last to leave. He watches your casket for hours, almost as if he’s waiting for you to spring out and laugh and kiss him, promising it’ll never happen again, promising you’ll never leave him…

He smiles. A memory-

The town of traders on this new small planet offered the Enterprise crew a place to stay overnight, and Kirk had agreed.

Their houses stood on stilts overlooking an ocean, and there were beautiful torches that burnt blue everywhere to light the paths. Bird-like creatures swooped through the town, twittering and squeaking.

You’re watching them silently through a window, a soft smile on your face. Leonard is sitting next to you on the bed, kissing your shoulder.

Two of the bird things get into a fight, and screeching is heard. Feathers fly.

You laugh, loud and unapologetic, as they tussle. Leonard laughs too. He’s smiling at you as you watch them, so completely wrapped up in how beautiful you are.

You fall back onto the bed, hair flying everywhere. You’re still giggling.

You look at your fiancé, enjoying watching him watch you. You feel comfortable. The house is warm and the blue firelight traces his face. The face of your love.

Leonard is wondering how on earth he landed you. How he convinced you to love him. But he truly has no idea. You’re lying there, eyes locked with his, gazing with so much love he feels he’s going to burst.

You lying there like that, hair spread out on the bed, a lazy smile on your face, eyes sparkling with the reflection of torches… he locks that picture in his mind.

And Leonard thinks that he’ll always remember you this way.

[hewhofightsbythesword]

scotch or irish? tommy shelby x reader

warning/s: underage drinking, swearing, violence, and slight smut

 inspired by disco pigs (2001) 

A/N: I was really high when I came up this idea. Even wrote it while I was high, but I couldn’t find it the next mirning. Wasn’t sure if I really wrote it or if it was a dream. Either way, it’s here lol After like two weeks. Sowwyy 

Tommy and y/n. y/n and Tommy. For as long as the pair can remember, that’s the way it has always been. Born only a few months apart, the two created an instant bond so strong that Aunt Polly said it would transcend through many lifetimes. And of course, Aunt Polly was never wrong in the matters of the heart. This was a friendship full of heart, romantic and platonic love for there was not one without the rest. Tommy’s mother would say to Polly, “That boy... it’s his cleverness that’ll kill him.” Martha found herself confiding in her more, so she continued, “As long as Tommy and y/n have each other... I am not worried.” And everyone knew. Everyone except Tommy and y/n.

The two had very similar minds. What one was thinking, the other was already mentally processing and vice versa. It would be almost adorable if it wasn’t so weird, as Arthur Sr. would call it. It was only weird because they were so smart. Against everybody else (even Polly at times, although she would never admit it), they were always two steps ahead.

From a young age the two understood their natural connection. For example, at the age of seven, Tommy and y/n planned to swear a vow of silence together that was planned to last a total of ten days. At first, y/n was met with slight worry from Tommy.

“We need code names! What should I call you if I need you?”

“You won’t have to need me, silly. That’s the whole point! I will already know, and so will you.” The logic was missing. They were both aware of this but none cared.

The goal was set for ten days. Not a single word was uttered between the kids or anyone else for that matter, aggravating the living hell out of those around them, especially Arthur who would’ve done anything to be a part of the joke. However, by day five, y/n broke the vow, rushing her feet as fast as they allowed a few houses down on Watery Lane.

That day she had heard a few of the older Lee boys, around Arthur’s age, speaking down on the Gypsy Shelby’s. y/n just had to tell Tommy or she was sure she would burst. It was also on day five Tommy came to two realizations: (1) He too would break their vow of silence. There was nothing worth doing if it meant he couldn’t do it with the person who understood him the most. (2) Tommy decided that same day that y/n, in her own right, was a Shelby too.

“Shelby,” he whispers to himself, only for him to hear.

At age 15, y/n was able to convince Tommy to steal a bottle of whiskey from the local pub. Her little hands shoved a piece of a paper with instructions in his direction. “Meet me here,” was all she told him with big eyes before he could even get a word in, running back to whatever held her short attention span. Unfolding the paper, Tommy could see a drawn out map of where to find the only girl who could keep young Tommy on his toes.

If anyone asked him, he would tell them all this was something he had to do. Many nights Arthur and Tommy had to go in all hours of the night looking for their father in pubs. One night in a drunken haze, Arthur Sr. takes his second born by the shoulders, causing him to be dragged onto the floor next to his father. He takes his boy by the face, shaking it a few times to show how serious he was trying to be.

“A man is meant to provide, always. Be a man, Thomas.”

y/n asked and Tommy planned to provide.

Seeing the large “X” marking the destination, it matched the location right before Tommy’s eyes. It was a beautiful far away, empty place from Watery Lane with lots of surrounding nature. It had just finished raining. y/n always did like the way the rain made the earth smell.

She notices her friend right away and runs up to him. y/n takes him by the hand. “I found my favorite tree here. Come on,” she says very nonchalantly.

Tommy shakes his head behind her. “Of course you did, Shelby. Of course you did.”

y/n often thought the world moved too slow for her liking. She always liked to be out and about. Always wild, never to be tamed. She figures that’s why she likes the Shelby’s so much. She was blessed to find a family early in her life that matched her soul. Except, she knows why she likes Tommy so much. He liked to be wild too. He moved just as fast as y/n, and he thought just as fast as her. So there was no doubt in her mind once she tasked her best friend with the alcohol that he'd deliver.

“I just took the first one I saw and ran like hell.” He presents y/n the bottle.

“Scotch whiskey,” y/n reads the label out loud before opening it. Tommy at this point began to see the trouble that she carried within her starting to stir. Confirming this intuitive feeling, y/n goes to make a quick toast like the kind she has seen her father make with Tommy’s. “To your Aunt Pol who would kill you if she ever knew, Thomas Shelby,” she groans out as she takes the first large swing with the most confidence. Even from when they were children, Tommy always wondered how so much confidence could fit in such a small body.

He takes the bottle from her to mimic her actions. “To my Aunt Polly who will find out by the week’s end.” They both laugh before Tommy takes his sip, but when he does, he takes it differently than y/n. “What the fuck, y/n. How can you even drink that shit?” He spits and coughs as he attempts to recover.

“What? I like it.” She shrugs while going for another.

At age 18, Tommy realized he loved y/n. By the time Tommy turned eighteen, it came to no surprise to anyone that he was already turning out to be a ladies man. Girls turning into young women were quick to notice his dark hair and hypnotic blue eyes. He was different than any of the factory worker boys that took after their fathers. He was ambitious. He wanted more to life than what dirty old Birmingham could offer, and the young women knew this so in some way, it even made it seem okay that his last name was Shelby. Almost as if Tommy was being pardoned for being a Shelby. And he hated that feeling.

y/n never made Tommy feel that way. She was always the first and the last one to defend her friend since birth. Crowned by Tommy all those years ago, she was Shelby. What else could have made her break her vow with Tommy all those years ago? Tommy didn’t realize exactly what he was realizing at the time. How could he? They were kids being kids. He couldn’t have known it was loyalty. If it wasn’t clear to Tommy then, it was now.

“You need to get out of here. Go get Arthur and John. This is no place for a woman,” Tommy warns y/n one night out, sensing trouble.

The two found themselves cornered by a group of boys around their age. The Peaky Blinders were gaining respect, notoriety, and fear from those around them. Things were changing for the Shelby’s, but not everyone agreed. Most certainly not the three boys looking for a fight. “Run!”

“No!” She hisses back. She tightens her fist and holds them up.

“There is no fucking way I’m letting you do this.”

“Either I leave to get the boys and we come back to your half-dead body, if we’re lucky or I stay and fight and we may actually win this.” Truth be told, y/n wished she could listen to Tommy and go get his brothers. But more than the fear she felt for herself, it was tenfold for Tommy.

“Damn you, Shelby.” he tells her as the fight breaks out.

No words were exchanged on the walk to The Garrison. It seemed like all of the day’s events were forcing Tommy to think about the vow they made when they were seven. Only this time, Tommy could see the logic she proposed. He did know what she was thinking because he was so sure she was thinking the same as him.

“Whiskey, Harry,” was all Tommy said, not bothering to spare the man a glance. y/n goes to sit at a table like they always do but was stopped by Tommy. He latches onto her hand, careful with the cuts and bruises that were beginning to form. “No,” he tells her, “We’ll be in the snug.” And no one protested. They may have wanted to but at the sight of blood on their clothes and on his razor blade, no one dared to speak out against the Blinder.

Not long after Harry delivers two glasses of whiskey through the snug’s window. “Give the toast, Shelby,” he gives the cup to y/n.

Her eyes never leave his. Even with exhaustion hijacking them, y/n could not name a more beautiful sight. “To you, Tommy. To the best and worst pal in the world.”

In his state of shock, Tommy failed to clink their glasses together, so y/n did it. The sound pulls him out of his own swirling thoughts, and they down their drink in an instant. Like the siamese twins they are, a look of disgust and twinge of horror overtake their faces.

“Scotch.”

“Irish.”

They both spit out like venom but were quick to laugh it off. “You gave me the wrong cup, Thomas!”

“Hey, come on now. I’m still Tommy. I’m just a bloody idiot for not knowing the difference.”

Only a few moments later, the laughing winds down a bit. The atmosphere still remains light only to be shattered. “Why don’t you love me?” He blurts out to y/n. “Like the way I love you?”

y/n’s content smile never falters. “I believe you have been too busy to notice me, Tommy. I’ve been right here. Because if you would have just asked, I would’ve said I loved you too. And I do... love you too.”

He smiles at her. “The best and worst pal in the world.”

y/n could feel her heart begin to hammer against her chest. She no longer felt like she was sitting down but floating. With the adrenaline from the fight gone, she should have been able to feel her wounds mark their place on her skin. But that’s not true. All she could feel was a warm, tight feeling in her chest. The boy she loved, loved her back. And no amount of irish whiskey could ever compare.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my whole heart.”

Tommy’s eyes searched y/n’s for any trace of hesitance or fraud but found none. All he could see were the eyes of the girl he loved the most. And most importantly, the girl loved him back.

He stands up to speak to Harry through the snug’s window and comes back shortly after. “Come here, Shelby.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to kiss the only girl in all of Small Heath that I love.” At that, y/n had no protests.

Their kiss was nothing less of what the two expected. It wasn't awkward. Nerve wracking, sure, but not awkward. Many nights y/n dreamt about this very moment. She dreamt how Tommy’s lips would feel against hers. She often wondered what kind of lover he was. And now she knows, leaving her with no more thoughts to wonder about.

She is the first one to pull away. “I have loved you since we were seven and you called me “Shelby” for the first time.” She places desperate kisses onto his lips, cheeks, and neck. Anywhere they would fall, really, leaving traces of pure love behind.

Tommy feels like he is starting to lose control once her pillow soft lips attack his neck. “Tell me again, y/n. Let me hear you.”

“I love you,” She reminds him in between her kisses.

“Shelby... if you keep doing that, I’m not sure how much gentleman will be left in me.”

She looks up from the spot on his neck she was loving on, having found his sweet spot. “This one? Right here?” She asks, feigning innocence as she lightly bites down. When she hears his soft moan, her tongue laps at the spot relieving it only to finish off with a few kisses.

Before the last one can even land, Tommy’s hand finds her neck to take control once more. He doesn’t squeeze nor does he have a rough hold. He merely wraps his fingers around the neck he will one day dress in the biggest jewels. Tommy guides y/n to the edge of the table and pushes her to lay on it.

“Here, Tommy?” She giggles watching her best friends crawl on top of her

He shushes her with more wet kisses. “No one will come in. It’s just me and you.” His hands caress, squeeze, and tease whatever he can.

“It’s yours, Tommy, my heart. It’s all yours.”

He wraps his hand under her hair that was sprawled over the table into a makeshift ponytail. “Mine,” he proves when he finally feels all of her. His eyes never hers, wanting to sear the memory of the exact moment she became his. Pain overtakes her face but her hands on his lower back right above his ass lets him know she was okay. After a while, y/n signals Tommy to start moving once more and pain starts to transform into a pleasure y/n never thought was possible.

All the sounds the two were making were sure to be drowned out by the ruckus made by the drunk men just outside the snug. Tommy was sure to tell Harry that no one else was allowed in under any circumstances. In his moment of euphoria, Tommy was ready to wet his razor blade for the second time that night should anyone dare barge in and take a look at what belonged to him.

This wasn’t Tommy’s first time but it was the first time he realized all what sex could be. All the men in his life were wrong. He was wrong. It didn’t have to be all what they said it should. All he ever needed was y/n. Now that he had her, he had no intention of ever letting go.

Basking in the momentary afterglow of his best orgasm, he says, “You know what, Shelby? I don’t think I mind scotch whiskey all that much anymore,” his thumb traces y/n lower lip, even getting it slightly moist, “Not when the taste comes from your lips. My lips.”

[sweetberrysmooch]

HC: And There Was Only One Bed (Affectionate) [pt. 2]

(Zzzzzzz…..)

(Alright, second part done :V Not much to say here for now, but I hope you’re excited for the upcoming part to come out next ^^ And my ask box is always open, so feel free to drop in and chat any time! I’ll be seeing you :D)

Basic sleeping hcs with ya boys, and for a part two, outside home life? You’ll see what I mean lol 

Characters: Quackity, George, Badboyhalo.

Warnings: Nightmares in Quackity’s part, but besides that we’re clean <3

Song Recommendation: Metamodernity- Vansire

Up Next- Sapnap, Philza, Fundy, Schlatt. 

Enjoy your day guys! I do hope it be rockin :]

Quackity:

Quackity is one floppy motherfucker. You fall asleep with him spooning you, head nestled between your shoulder blades, hands holding yours in front of your middle, legs entangled, the whole shi-bang, but wake up with him starfishing half on the mattress at a weird angle that makes his neck sore for the rest of the day.

Each day is a new position for you to add to your ammunition of teasing against him, but he takes it in stride. He totally doesn’t wake you up halfway through the night by flinging himself over your middle, ‘asleep’ and snoring like a freight train. When you give up halfway through trying to stop him breathing and just fall asleep lying on his chest, he turns to mush and gets distracted playing with your hair. You don’t know why he seems so exhausted the next morning, and he only giggles dreamily at you when you ask.

While he’ll be the big spoon for as long as you want him to, there’s a special soft place in his heart for being the little spoon. Hold him, please. Pull him to your chest and gently run your fingers through his hair, rub his back and kiss every inch of his face until he’s down for the count. The easiest way to make him feel better after a bad day or an argument is to let him know you want him and love him. Just holding him at night guarantees that he’ll bring you a present the next day (like the inner stardew valley house husband he sometimes longs to be lmao).

It’s a 50/50 chance of waking up with Quackity or after him, seeing as he prefers to get up early to enjoy the quiet mornings before the rest of the smp wakes up. He gets ready, makes the both of you coffee (or tea, something to help wake you up), and watches the sky change color while he waits for you to come sit with him in the kitchen. The two of you try your best to assure a moment together before you go about your separate ways, sitting together and talking about what you have planned or what you might have for dinner later. It’s his favorite part of the day, aside from coming back home to your awaiting arms.

Another citrus-y smelling fellow. More orange than lemon, he bathes in the morning after he wakes up. You typically wake up right after he gets finished washing up, walking into the bathroom to hear him quietly humming while drying off his hair and wings. He’ll give you a small guilty grin and a good smooch on your forehead as an apology.

Another poor fellow with nightmares;; They’re a lot less frequent than they used to be now that you’ve gotten together (having someone to talk to and work through each others issues does WONDERS apparently) but when they hit, they hit him hard. You wake up from him twisting and turning right before he wakes up in tears. He doesn’t like to be touched afterwards, drawn in on himself and facing away from you, hiding his crying. When you leave to get him a glass of water and come back, he’s more grounded, crawling into your arms and accepting the drink gratefully. With his forehead pressed to your throat, taking small sips from his cup, he’ll tell you what his dream was about. Sometimes it’s Technoblade, sometimes Dream, mostly Schlatt though. His ex lingers on his mind more than he likes to admit, a deep sense of abandonment showing through his nightmares. Quackity struggles with sleeping for a few days after, afraid of what he might see when he closes his eyes again.

(You’ve fallen back asleep by now, hand paused in its ministrations and resting snugly in his hair. Things are warm and quiet and soft, and he feels safe again. 

The nightmare still hovers fuzzily in the back of his mind, but for now he can ignore it, focusing on your slow breathing as it lulls him back to sleep. 

His last thought before finally letting himself rest is how much he loves you, giving you one last squeeze in his tight embrace before relaxing into a much more stable slumber. ‘Gracias por todo mi amor.’)

George:

Impeccable skill of just falling asleep wherever and whenever. Before the two of you got close and started sharing a bed together, he really left his sleep schedule up to fate. He’d find a comfy spot and crash there for a few hours till he was awoken and would just repeat that a few hours later. Now that he has you, he makes more of an effort to stay awake during the day so he can sleep through the night next to your side. It more or less works, but occasionally he’ll have slept during the day and he wakes up in the middle of the night. As “punishment”, he sentences himself to waiting it out instead of getting up to do something because he truly wants to keep going to bed with you.

Not big on contact, likes having his space when he’s sleeping. Cuddling is nice every once in a while, but he prefers being able to breathe a little bit when falling asleep. He does, however, actively make the choice to hold your hand while he slips into slumberville. His grip isn’t too strong, nor is it very light, but a gentle mix between the two to try and remind you how much he loves you. You’ll wake up before him and his hand will still be holding yours, pulled to his chin as he sleeps. His breath fans your knuckles slowly, face eased of any stress, absolutely content.

George bathes…… probably. I’m just kidding, he fluctuates between bathing at night or in the morning because he just goes through phases of forgetting to when the time comes. His little mushroom home doesn’t come with a bathroom, seeing as its wholly empty (please if anyone has housing information on George or like. Any character at all please inform me please i beg-), so he’s limited to getting clean at a friend’s or your house. Typically yours. He keeps all of his valuables at your place once you start letting him sleep over there, tucking his clothes into your closet or in your dresser when he thinks you aren’t looking, leaving a toothbrush and his soap in your bathroom, hanging his armor up on an empty armor stand you have tucked away, all due to his inability to straight out ask if he can live with you.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to live with you, he practically does anyways, but there’s something in him that worries that you won’t like him if you’re forced to live with him permanently. He knows it can become… a bit much when you have to be around someone 24/7, but doesn’t realize that you pretty much already are around each other 24/7 lmao.

It takes a while but eventually he settles down and over dinner suggest that maybe you two should take it to the next level. His face is flushed pink and he keeps switching which leg he has crossed, but he takes your hand and quietly asks if he could start living with you. It’s a surprisingly sweet moment, even with your confusion (thinking you already DID live together), and of course you say yes.

He looks so relieved when you accept, and is kinda like, “I know this will be a difficult process but I’m very excited to become closer with you.” and then nothing changes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(It’s on the walk home when George finally processes that he now lives with you. It feels heavy on his heart, a mix of nervousness and excitement that makes him swallow hard and tighten his fingers around yours. 

This isn’t the first time he’s spent the night at your place, nor is it the first time he’s crawled into bed with you and slept next to just because you let him, but it is his first night actually living with you. The moment feels brand new, as if it’s his first time visiting your house all over again. 

He begins to wonder if maybe this was a mistake, maybe he’s moved too fast and maybe your regretting letting him live with you already and- He takes a hurried look at your face. You look… unbothered. Happy, even. 

There’s this half hidden smile on your face that soothes his anxieties, drawing out his own fragile smile. He can’t wait to live with you.)

Bad:

Mmmmm, big man warm. A natural heat machine, no need for lots of blankets or heavier pajamas, Bad will take care of all your cold problems. Every night after you finish your shared nightly routine, you curl up in his arms, immediately becoming over come with his toasty embrace. It like when you get clothes out of the drier and just hug them to your chest, the warm, clean, smell good experience that Bad also delivers.

He’s got a pretty ingrained nightly schedule that he sticks to, and he always invites you to join him after you finish up dinner. It starts by cleaning up the house a little, washing the dishes, setting aside clothes for the next day, taking a quick bath, brushing his teeth, reading a few chapters from a new book he’s picked up, and then settling down to go to bed. He won’t push you to do it with him, but he does try to incorporate you into his routine when he can. Usually it’s just by doing something small, like reading together or massaging your shoulders, but sometimes he’ll ask you to join him when he bathes.

Bad bathes pretty often, always at night, and using a nice smelling soap that he makes himself. Like what was said above, he’ll sometimes ask you to join him when bathing. It’s not ever for any naughty means, but because he sees bathing as a very intimate and vulnerable activity for you to share. He won’t push it, understanding that it can be overwhelming to be so open, but if you do choose to join him, he’s so gentle with you. His hands are worked and calloused, but they’re soft when they run soap through your hair, his nails lightly scratching your scalp and running down the back of your neck. He practically purrs when you return the favor, giggling as your hands brush sensitive spots around his sides. Afterwards he becomes so cuddly and attached to your side, you fall asleep with him curled up on YOUR chest, trapped under him.

That being said, most nights he takes to being the big spoon. It’s more for convenience sake, seeing as he’s a good few feet taller than you are, but he also can appreciate being held and loved on after harsher days. He’s a lot like a weighted blanket, a nice heavy weight that keeps you warm and makes you feel loved <3 love this guy.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), you sometimes have.... Visitors. Bad is a hub for the homeless, bored, and nutty members of the smp. They flock to him like birds to the elderly, which means you have “children” to take care of for a day or two at a time :/. Dream and George aren’t regulars, per say, but Bad has a room set aside for either of them when they come over. To their credit, they do try to be polite when they come over, and will help in cooking dinner or cleaning up. Skeppy, however, is unlike Dream or George, in that he’s more of a third partner in your and Bad’s relationship.

Skeppy up and appears at random, no announcement, and makes himself comfortable any place where Bad is. Be it at your home or his, Skeppy eats your food, lounges on your furniture, hell, he even sleeps with you and Bad at night. You two share Bad’s chest whenever Skeppy is over. It’s so jarring at first, having to deal with having another boyfriend (because Skeppy will consider you to be apart of the thrupple after introductions), but he usually only stays for like 3 days before leaving to do whatever else he has planned. You don’t know if you should be worried or upset or what, but after a while it becomes kinda nice to have him around.

All in all Bad is great to sleep with <3

(Bad blows the lantern out on his bedside counter, shuffling under the cover beside you once the room was fully dark. You slung an arm over his chest instinctively, cuddling up into his side when his arm pulled up around your back and held you even closer. 

You shivered pleasantly when he gently pressed a kiss into your hair, becoming sleepier and sleepier with each rise and fall of his wide chest. He sighs quietly and squeezes you, murmuring softly to you as you both fell asleep. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep well.”)

Have a good evening! Do something nice for yourself tonight. You deserve it.

[beels-burger-babe]

D&D Story Time

@bloopthebat you may be interested in this

So ya'll know how I play D&D? While I had a crazy fucking session tonight, and my roommate is unavailable to rant to, so you guys get to hear it.

I've talked about the Three Cleric Campaign that I'm a part of before. There are three of us, we all play clerics, in a world where gods mostly live amongst us and are our political system as well.

I play Riona, an aasimar order cleric who follows Islina, sun goddess and queen of the pantheon. She's our party's healer

Then there's Taman (Riona's perfect opposite). A human raised by elves, a light cleric who follows the Moon God, a god who has been missing for centuries and is believed to be behind the dark corruption that is slowly killing the world (we only found that out post start of the campaign). He's utilities.

And finally, Thassa. A princess teifling of the Mother of Monsters who is a tempest cleric that follows the sea god Cashoctik (who is neutral in most of the wars that have happened in the lore). She's combat/tank.

ANYWAY! We're in the Mother of Monster's (a demi god) domain on a mission from the Father of Gods to kill her and bring her soul to him to help release him from his prison so that he can save the world from the corruption.

Rather than just go in guns blazing, we know the Mother to be very protective of her children (literally any monster race) and generally quite civil. We go to her, we explain the situation, she's like "Right. You are not the first the Father has sent to do this, and you probably won't be the last. I will let you kill me. But only if you can beat my Champions in battle. Consider it a test of sorts." So for the past few sessions, we've been doing combat and role play in this colosseum against the champions of each of the six children of the Mother: Goblinoids, Yaun-ti, Beast-Men, Orcs, Hags, and finally Demons. (Our DM homebrews a lot of stuff in the best way, so the lore for these races has been changed).

Tonight was our Hag fight and OH FUCKING BOY

All of us were already worried because we've fought hags before. They fuck with your head, and we've all had some recent trauma.

Riona especially.

For context, Riona is currently on the run from her temple (for whom she is seen as the "Marked of Islina", was practically raised by the goddess herself, and is officially a Mother (similar to a nun) of the temple and is the "Head Mother" of the entire orphanage and children care sector). She's been thrown curve ball after curve ball, being told that her goddess committed multiple massacres, imprisoned people, and is overall not always the best person. But then also told that most of those things she did were either with good intention or just cause and was also shown a number of really incredible and compassionate things she's done. So in terms of faith, it's wobbly. Not to mention, she hasn't actually heard from Islina in MONTHS, found out the artifact that her goddess gifted her was a tool for the temple's Cardinals to spy and track her, and that she HAS BEEN LIED TO HER ENTIRE LIFE AND APPARENTLY HAS DIED AND BEEN REINCARNATED SEVERAL TIMES THROUGHOUT HISTORY!

OH YEAH! AND THE LAST TIME SHE SAW THESE HAGS? THEY HAD ONE OF HER PAST LIVES FUCKING TAXIDERMIED IN THEIR OFFICE!!!

*clears throat* So Riona is having a great time.

So we're fighting three hags, and Taman (as usual) nearly dies several times, Riona and Thassa barely have a scratch on them. We kill the first one pretty early in the fight. Riona had to fight the undead corpse of her past life (yay necromancy) due to one of the hags, which was traumatic in its own right since looking in its eyes gave her flashbacks to its memories of its life and its death (which was in the very colosseum we were fighting in). Killed the hag that caused that.

But then there's the last hag. She casts Anti-Gravity, and everything goes to shit.

I won't go into fine details, but basically, since Riona can fly, she wasn't really affected by the spell, so with Taman and Thassa clinging to her leg, she's shooting arrow after arrow at this hag (I got like three nat 20s) and the hag summons this beast thing above us made of wood and bones from the other hags and the remains of Past Life!Riona. Monster thingy grabs Taman and Thassa. Thassa kills the monster thing. Riona grabs the two of them and then kills the hag.

But then Anti-Gravity drops as a result.

Ri (Riona) has everyone pretty sturdily in her arms, so it should be okay. Right?

Wrong.

The branches and sharps pieces of bone and rubble from the monster that had been above us start falling and we're still 90ft in the air held up only by Riona.

Ri fails a dex check to make us all dodge, and I ask the DM if Ri can move her wings so that she takes the brunt of the damage.

DM says if she takes more than 20 damage, she drops Taman and Thassa, and we continue with our house rule of if Riona takes more than 10 damage in one hit to her wings, they're broken until someone heals them.

Riona takes 18 damage.

We're falling. Riona is screaming in pain. Thassa trying to adjust Taman so he won't take any damage if we do fall to our deaths, and Taman is casting guidance on Thassa.

With a 25DC Dex save, with shattered wings, Riona forces herself to push through the pain and catch enough wind under them to slow us down.

Taman casts Cure Wounds on Riona. (The DM describes his magic to be silver with these ghost-like hands that grab, mend, or tear at things depending on the spell. In this case, mid-flight, they were re-setting and mending Riona's wings. The feeling is excruciating and feels wrong as Taman's temple is opposite/enemies with Riona's).

Riona slowly brings them all to the ground.

Just in time to see her Past Life's skull plummet to the ground and with its empty eyes staring into hers, split and shatter.

Riona turned and hid her face in Thassa's shoulder, Thassa pulled Taman into a group hug, and we all stood there, ignoring the audience booing at their champion's defeat, clinging onto each other as we tried to process what we had just gone through.

Deeply traumatized, we're lead to our waiting room to heal and plan before our last fight against the Demon King, the original Demon.

Riona is shell-shocked and finally breaks from just everything she's been put through with her temple and her goddess and this. She's shaking, she's crying silent tears and can't fully bring herself to talk. Taman lays down near where she's sitting, pats her leg and sleepily tries to comfort her. Thassa, after dealing with some of her own shit that went down, grabbed a bowl, sat behind Riona, and gently hummed to her as she wiped down Ri's wings and helped ground her.

This was the closest, most family-like moment our party has ever had.

By my own choice for role play, Riona will not be able to fly for the rest of the day, and from here on out will have to do a Wis save before flying to see if she can actually push herself to do it again.

She's traumatized as fuck and I have no idea what's gonna happen now.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: How many colors can you see in the dark?

Summary:

"Darkness wasn’t pitch black. Darkness wasn’t nothing. It was a slew of shadows, lines and glimmers. It was a dark blue, a light blue in places and if she searched for it, a subtle shade of green.

Eyes were just constantly looking for something to see."

After the war, Hange and Levi start living together and Hangs notices something might be a little off about Levi.

Link: AO3

Note:

I know this is two weeks late but...happy birthday Shaila! Based on the prompt you sent ;)

Levi had always approached housemaking like it was a delicate art, a dance to master

Or maybe it was something he had mastered already.

Despite his small stature and his generally aloof demeanor, he navigated the kitchen with silent confidence, running his hands over each task quickly, efficiently and more notably, elegantly.

Elegant enough to catch Hange’s busy eyes for at least a few minutes a day.

Turning something as mundane as managing a house into an art was an admirable skill that Hange learned over the years, could never be replicated without the natural proclivity. And as long as it was Levi was involved, Hange seemed to be completely capable of giving her full attention.

And before she even realized it herself, she had mastered the subtle art of just observing.

She mastered it so well that when inconsistencies started to appear, Hange spotted them almost immediately.

There was a plate that Levi had settled on the counter with a louder than usual clatter and that was enough to ring alarm bells inside her. Then when the angry clatters, the awkward rhythm as Levi reorganized utensils became commonplace, Hange found herself watching every move more closely then listening even when she had know idea what she was searching for in the first place.

She surreptitiously kept her guard up, she followed his movements. She snuck glances when she was sure Levi wasn’t looking. Over time, acts as mundane as turning on the stove had Hange looking up, ears perked up, interest piqued.

Maybe she was just a little nervous that Levi might burn himself.

Levi knew the stove from the back of his hand, he knew everything inside and out from the vacuum cleaners, to the dishwashers, to the mops. She had never needed to be nervous before.

But the clicking of the stove as he turned the knob was just a tad slow. The plates continued to clatter instead of settling softly on the counter.

And when Hange observed the way he set the table, she couldn’t help but notice, the spoon was just a little closer to the plate than the spoon.

Something, a fastidious Levi would have never allowed.

It could have been the long observations, or just the broken dish that had started it all. It could have been Levi’s careful movements or Hange’s penchant for overthinking. For a while, she had even blamed herself for being overly zealous about how the house should be run.

Then understanding came out of nowhere one morning, as an abrupt yet taut curse from just a few feet away.

Fuck.

Hange’s reaction was almost immediate. “Levi? You okay?”

He wasn’t okay. Hange had stood up instinctively at the sound, her eyes following Levi’s hands. The latter had dropped the peeler onto the kitchen counter with a louder clack than usual.

“Let me take a look,” Hange said. Her pace quickened as she made more sense of the situation.

Out of instinct, Levi held his hand close to him, another clumsy mistake, considering the red streaks that pooled out of that tiny knick that started to leak into the white shirt underneath. “Fucking hell,” Levi let out another curse, that time as a hushed whisper. He pulled away even before Hange could get close.

“Let me take a look,” Hange repeated, that time more firmly. Instinctively her eyes narrowed, her brow furrowed.

Somehow, that combination of everything had been enough to have Levi just a little more obedient.

He didn’t pull away further. But he didn’t make it any easier either.

It was Hange who carefully unwrapped his fingers, exposing the raw skin underneath. She ran her hand over it as gently as she could, but still not gentle enough to prevent a soft, hesitant and begrudging whimper.

“I’ll get the bandages,” Hange turned towards the cupboard, pulling out the materials one by one.

The process of bandaging was slow and the air between the two remained unbearably silent. Hange had more than enough thinking space to notice it then, when it was right at her fingertips.

Levi’s hands have always been rough, they have always been crusty to the touch. But something seemed a little different about the scrapes, the raw red that seemed to climb up his wrists, settling in his palms.

Levi had always been careful, he’d never been clumsy, let alone accident prone.

But his hands seemed to tell a different story. Hange ran her hands over his palms as she worked, ignoring the winces, the way he tensed up at each slight touch.

Then she started to ignore the passage of time, only painfully aware of the questions, then the ardent curiosity that seemed to manifest as some heavy weight in the silent kitchen.

She had to let it out somehow, or risk having that weight crush her.

Are you okay? Even if she did ask that, would Levi ever respond with a straight answer? Her own experience with him said no.

She took a deep breath. “Levi…” Hange started, hands running through the bruising once again. “Did you fall somewhere?”

***

Levi never answered that question. And any attempt at pushing and prodding after that, came up empty.

He was quiet, and it turned out, keeping mum could have been as much of his talent as being careful. He could ignore Hange if he tried and he would mumble something to himself, and walk away.

He always found a way to feign or at the most even force himself into a state of deep concentration, enough to even convince Hange to leave her questions for another day.

Hange was never one to stay quiet forever. And the universe was only tempting Hange to push the issue.

Suddenly everything was a catalyst.

The broken plate was the first catalyst. Then accidents seemed to pop up more frequently, an awkward clatter worse than an awkward clatter or a broken rhythmThere were rhythm. There were broken platess, a bleeding cutss and crushed fruits. Strange accidents had become a common sight.

I’m fine. Levi had said the first time she asked.

Hange gave it a week. One week became two weeks when Levi insisted that he was fine.

Two weeks became three when Levi insisted he was just tired.

One month in, Hange’s own habits of observation have graduated to levels of almost accurate predictions.

Hange didn’t notice it for herself immediately. In fact, she noticed it in slow motion, in the way she tensed up as she started to make sense of her observations.

They were in the moment Levi’s eyes twitched, the split second long blink, and the way his hand hovered over the plate, the way his hands gripped for something so tightly Hange could have sworn he had to have been gripping something.

Something a little more tangible than air.

Hange didn’t have to squint or furrow her brows to see that nothing had been between his two finger tips. Yet, for a second, Levi still held the air in between them like it was a lifeline.

When Hange looked up, narrowing her eyes at Levi’s, she noted the flash of confusion. As quickly as he pulled back, it melted away to something more subtle.

That dumbfounded expression didn’t fall away for any longer. It stayed long enough for Hange to see everything about the way Levi had blinked rapidly for a few seconds longer, the awkward way he stepped back then the way he gripped the counter as he bent down to grab the plate.

He didn’t go quickly for the broken plate, he started to feel the ground and Hange was sure she could have been much quicker. She rushed next to him.

Levi had a headstart but despite that, Hange was moving alarmingly faster. “Levi… I’ll handle this,” Hange said, noting the awkward and aimless movements of his hands.

Levi didn’t even protest but something inside Hange had wished he did. He pulled back, reached above him for some support from the counter.

When Hange focused on the obvious signs, she was quick to conclud, Levi had never been that slow.

He had never approached cleaning with such painful hesitation.

The first time, Hange did stomach it but she never really was the type to sit back and observe. She always observed but after observing, Hange would act in the most logical, calculated manner.

“We’re going to the doctor.” Hange brought it up out over an uncharacteristic silence.

“No.”

That brusque response had Hange jumping in her seat. When Hange thought about it for a second longer, after ‘I’m fines,” and “I’m just tired,” a firm ‘no’ seemed almost ominous.

Levi wasn’t making things any better with the rash way at which he stood up, then teetered, his eyes hovering wildly over the table. He blinked hard, then he widened his eyes in some look of confusion or surprise.

When Hange bent over to look into it, he looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You know I can help with the laundry right? Or cooking.”

“Why do you wanna help so suddenly? Don’t you have work to do?”

“I do,” Hange admitted. “But even if you’ve always wanted to do it yourself... I thought I wanna help with house chores more.”

“That’s new,” Levi glanced at her accusingly.

Glanced. That’s what it should have been

Hange squinted, then her eyes scanned over his expression while aiming to recall every other moment he had made eye contact before.

Levi wasn’t glancing. His eyes could have been staring at nothing. Either that, or he could have been staring at something which Hange couldn’t see.

There was a blunt grey in his sharp blue eyes and before Hange even felt the damp tension in the room, the way it weighed on her lips, forced her jaw back, she took one deep breath. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? Doing everything on your own?”

“I’ve always done everything on my own,” Levi said. He pulled his chair back then walked slowly away.

He didn't finish his breakfast that day.

***

It was like a switch just turned on inside Hange.

The stronger the indignance, the more motivated Hange became. Soon, even the small things back home were pulling out the researcher from inside her.

Despite her chaotic personality, Hange always seemed to put some systematic process into something as complex as solving a problem and subsequently, getting into the bottom of someone as stoic as Levi Ackerman.

Define the problem.

Levi was just a little too clumsy.

Form a hypothesis.

That part was a little more complex. With a little more observation, a little more analysis, she noticed the small details.

The small details weren’t in Levi, in fact they were in the little changes in his surroundings. The spices and the groceries have always been arranged neatly but when Hange observed Levi’s movements, she noticed, he liked to hover his hand over everything before allowing it to land, on top of one cap, then he would grip the one right next to it.

The salt shaker was just a little smaller than the pepper shaker just an inch away. When Levi was done with the salt he put it in its usual spot.

In the exact same place.

Levi was meticulous. He always did it that way. But there was something unsettling about the way he gripped it hard before letting go, before hovering his hand over the jar right next to it.

“Here,” Levi said, dropping the plate gently on the counter.

Scrambled eggs with salt.

“Thank you,” Hange said as she pulled it towards herself. Most days, she had a book next to her, or a few documents to review before she left for the office. That day in particular, the documents were just for show. She watched carefully as he cleaned up, as he positioned the bowl right next to the plates, and when he set it, he let his hand hover, he let it gently fly over the other utensils.

As if he was memorizing where everything was.

But Hange couldn’t be too sure. She needed to experiment.

There was only one window to move and that was when Levi was in the shower.

So Hange called the office, mentioning something to Armin about being late, and about an urgent health concern.

She never called days off so Armin didn’t pry.

She opened the salt shaker and poured the contents into a bowl. She opened the pepper shaker and poured the contents inside. A few hand motions later, the salt was where it wasn’t supposed to be and the pepper wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

Then Hange lined them up. She could never be too sure if that was the exact sample place but it was worth a try.

The next morning, the experiment turned out to be very much worth it when Hange was served an omelette sprinkled with a little too much of something else on top.

“Levi, I asked for salt in the omelette right?”

“You always ask for salt,” Levi answered matter-of-factly as he picked at his own breakfast. “Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing… I just thought you put in a little too much.” Hange made a loud show of pushing the plate in front of him and it looked like Levi had been ready to make a show of something too.

He narrowed his eyes on the plate then nodded. “Sorry, I’ll put less salt next time,” he muttered, only proving himself what Hange already suspected.

“It’s fine, put as much salt as you want,” Hange didn’t even notice herself, not until she pulled the plate back towards her that her voice had deadened to smatterings of sound. She sliced the omellete into smaller places, mixing the black pepper with the gooey yellow just underneath then wondering for a second how Levi managed to so cleanly crack the eggs even when he could barely tell the difference between white and black.

The only way to ever find out is to ask. But there were more pressing things to ask at that moment.

Levi, are you blind? If Hange just went with her first instinct, maybe that’s what she would have asked.

This is pepper. That had been her second choice but with such a fragile moment right between them, that was no time for proving her own conjecture correct.

She went for an in between, a curious in between and she decided, it was up to Levi to take it for what he sees the question to be. “Levi? How much can you see right now?”

“I can see just fine,” Levi answered, once again straightforward and firm.

At that moment, he met her gaze with blank eyes, or at least, he attempted to meet her gaze. The moment Hange avoided his eyes, he didn’t follow.

She started to make sense of everything at once.

The strong denial, the lack of confusion, her omelette with a little too much pepper instead of salt and one strong inference later, Hange started on a new endeavor--- convincing Levi to see a doctor.

***

The disease wasn’t anything new and Hange was confident, she could have pronounced it and memorized it if she had put her heart into studying it.

As Levi put it, there were more pressing things to study than the sudden onset of failing eyesight. The doctors at least had been nice enough to put a prognosis on it.

The rules were simple, old people usually got it, Levi had just been terribly unlucky he experienced it decades earlier. It wasn’t common but it wasn’t unheard of either, even in the small island of Eldia. If Hange requested the documentation from Marley, if she made a quick visit to Marley, maybe she would have figured it out for herself.

Levi had shot down that idea though before Hange could have entertained it any further.

Even in the silence, in the bedroom, at two in the morning, even when Hange had so carefully padded towards the desk, Levi had seemed to have sensed it.

His voice rough, his eyes half open, he spoke up seemingly from out of nowhere. “No need.”

Whatever had hinted him to it seemed to have work, maybe even if it was just Hange’s own tense demeanor which she couldn’t so easily brush away.

In fact, Hange had been thinking about it. She had a half written letter for a leave to go to Marley. She had papers on whatever the doctors had even documented about the failing eyesight of elders, all scattered across the table.

But fading eyesight of elders was something not many people endeavored to cure. Levi's case was just too rare, and there were no other studies which made it worth white.

It was as if Levi had known that too.. “Hange, go back to sleep.”

He had chosen a convenient moment to say it. That exact moment where Hange had ran her eyes over the last few paragraphs of one of the files from the library.

No known cure.

“I’m reading something.” Hange disturbed the papers enough to release some loud rustle in the room.

“You wanna read it to me?” Levi asked. That was the first time he had ever asked her to read anything to him.

To Hange’s surprised, it sent some painful pang through her chest that seemed to settle in her stomach.

Suddenly, she was in no mood to read again.

“Actually, you’re right. I think this can wait until morning.”

***

Hange’s work in the office started to die down just a bit, and suddenly her mind was everywhere.

She allowed herself to ponder what the hell Levi was busying himself with while she was away. Did he get bored? More importantly, was he safe?

And a few times she did call home, only to get some form of ‘go back to work’ in a more and more annoyed tone with every call. The few times she stopped herself from calling, she busied herself with something else.

Piles and piles of paperwork, some of them were actual work and some of them were something that Hange would have classified as personal, hidden amongst a small pile of papers slightly obscured by the one Jean had left a while back.

Luckily, no one really asked Hange to clean up. No one among her subordinates seemed to have even made sense of the pile of paperwork and that was one thing Hange took advantage of.

After one call with Levi, where the latter had put down the phone a little too roughly, Hange quickly went through one of the letters she had written only that morning, to another doctor she had heard about through her network.

The few doctors in Eldia had deemed it incurable but Hange still managed to grip on to whatever hope came with a second opinion. The few researchers that had come back bore bad news but Hange was unfazed, there were still many other doctors, some in Marley, some in the Middle East, some in Hizuru.

Others had come back with nothing but affirmation that whatever research that had reached Eldia were the latest.

But Hange wasn’t giving up just yet. There were a few more she hadn’t sent yet.

She bent over, chin leaning on one hand. She knew the best way to write a letter and if she just let loose, she was confident she could make it sound as professional as the many other letters she had written before.

Somehow, the nth letter was harder. Somehow, writing that same letter when she had received too many rejections already was harder.

Was it worth it to still try? Hange took a deep breath, pressed the pen to paper and wrote out the first few words. It was like a script, when Hange gave into self discipline and to the mechanisms that kept working the past few years, she found it was easy enough to stay productive and efficient.

Doctor Wilken,

I hope you’re doing well.

My name is Hange Zoe from Paradis. I’m writing to you to inquire about a case…

Hange had gone halfway through, before the door to her office creaked open. The sound echoed, breaking whatever trance she didn’t even know she had been in and Hange jumped her seat.

“Did I scare you?” Armin asked, another wad of documents held close to his chest.

Hange eyed the documents and instinctively patted the empty space to the side of her desk. “Leave it on my desk.”

“This can wait until tomorrow.” Armin dropped the documents on the side and looked up at her expectantly.

“If it’s urgent, I could get started tonight,” Hange offered.

“The grocery closes at seven,” Armin volunteered.

At that point, she had been painfully aware that a lot may have changed about her work habits. How long had she been writing letters back and forth. More importantly, how long had she been frequenting the grocery on the way home?

Since the doctors had given her Levi’s diagnosis? Hell, maybe even before that.

“You notice I’ve been going to the market more often?” Hange said.

“Connie noticed it first. Then Mikasa,” Armin explained. He put his hands up in defense. “We weren’t stalking you or anything, but we used to see Levi in the market more… and when we started seeing you there, we got curious.”

Hange forced a smile. “I just thought I should pull my weight at home. I think I’ve been spending too much time working. Not too much time helping out.”

“Levi isn’t the type to get lonely though and I’m sure he does enjoy cleaning,” Armin said.

“He sure does,” Hange said. She kept whatever tone to herself, instead feigning some preoccupation as she shuffled mindlessly through the papers. “Still, we’re living together and taking care of the house is a team job.”

Armin nodded. “You know, you don’t have to work overtime anymore. Jean, Mikasa and I… The queen… Connie… we can handle most of the work. You should spend more time at home--- I don’t even think you ever got rest as commander.”

Hange sighed. “I’m gonna have to think about that. There is a lot I feel like I haven’t done yet. Gimme some time to think about that.”

“If you need anything else, just let me know,” Armin said. He bowed lightly and walked quietly out the room, leaving Hange to ponder that offer.

There were things she hadn’t done. There was a lot of work she still had to deal with but she didn't need the time to consider them.

It was an easy decision to make.

Soon enough Hange had stopped working overtime and she had started to spend a little more time cracking open books and reports from each doctor and writing letters in between.

Surprisingly, she didn’t feel at all guilty about shortening work hours.

***

The door of their home opened up to the living room and just behind it was the kitchen.

By evening Hange would find Levi either working at the kitchen, sitting at the dining table or lounging by the sofa.

On the rare days that he wasn’t, he could be in the laundry room.

That was her first thought.

There was something about the eerie silence though that had Hange walking ahead more quickly.

“Levi?” she called out.

There was no reply. The beating of her heart only turned wilder. Hange dropped her bag by the sofa and raced towards the laundry room, just beyond that, was the bedroom.

She didn’t have to go any further though. Levi was slumped on the wall of the living room. A pile of clothes lay toppled over and scattered on the floor right next to him.

“Hange…” It wasn’t a question. Maybe more of a statement. But to Hange it had just been a lifeless name and the blank expression on Levi’s face wasn’t helping it either.

“Hey, I’m here.” Hange bent over and started to pick up the clothes, resting them on one hand.

“Did they get dirty?” Levi pulled at one of the sweaters then held it close to himself.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll put them back in the closet.”

“No, but I need to know, do I need to wash them again.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not as much of a clean freak as you are,” Hange folded the clothes once again and piled them all in. Levi had done his part but Hange couldn’t help but note, in the span of her folding ten, Levi had only folded two.

His was still neater and most likely, if Hange hadn’t caught him, if that accident--- whatever that had been--- that left him slumped on the wall, didn’t happen. He still would have managed to fold everything.

She carried the laundry basket with one arm and lumbered over to their bedroom. Listening closely, she made out the hesitant and clumsy steps of her partner right behind.

“Levi, what happened?” she asked.

“I fell over, the basket fell over, I hit my head on the wall.” He kept his voice soft, his answers straightforward.

“I’ll get some ice. Just lay in bed,” Hange ordered.

That accident must have hurt. For once, Levi was completely obedient, not even attempting to reorganize the clothes on the basket and putting it inside the closet. He didn’t even answer, or crane his neck when Hange entered the room.

She dropped the ice pack on his outstretched palm, guiding his fingers to the top, where it was easiest to hold. “In the morning, if it still hurts, you have to tell me. We’re going to have to take you to the doctor.”

Levi had experienced worse. Explosions, man eating monsters and war. Regardless, just a strong smack to the right part of the head was enough to kill. Hange had worked long enough with army medics to know.

He gripped the ice pack only lightly and once again, Hange was tempted to run her fingers over his and grip his hands guiding them over it. It wasn’t a physical issue. Levi was still strong, she was sure of that.

Still, Levi was stronger than that, he always had been. Hell, he was dubbed humanity’s strongest for a reason.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked.

“No. I’m not,” Levi admitted.

“We should see a doctor tomorrow then?”

Levi turned to his side, his front to the window. “It’s not that. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

“But something else hurts right? Something you can’t explain?” Hange suggested.

Levi didn’t respond after that and Hange didn’t prod further. She started to reorganize the clothes one on top of the other, noting then how Levi had managed to fold them neatly into piles.

Hers and his, divided like they’ve always been. Staring for longer than usual, not having to consider the day in front or any other things, she started to note that there was a slight difference.

There were small stains on the white, some white on the red and just colors where she didn’t remember having them been before. “Levi, maybe we should get two hampers, a light and a dark one? So you don’t mix them up?” Hange suggested.

Silence.

Hange turned back to the hamper, the clothes still untouched, clumsily folded on top of one another. She brought it back to the bed and held Levi’s left hand towards her.

“You want me to teach you how to tell the lights from the darks?” Hange asked.

Levi had been holding the ice pack to his head for the past few seconds and he turned to Hange, eyes half open.

“Sit up.” She pulled lightly at Levi and it turned out, she didn’t have to pull for long. That order was enough to get him to a sitting position.

“I’ll teach you the lights from the darks,” Hange said. She pulled out one of Levi’s sweaters, a pure white with a few colored spots from washings. “This one is your white sweater…” She started. She guided Levi’s fingers through it, pressing his fingers closer on the areas where the threads bunched together, making up some intricate design.

As she guided his fingers through, as she felt his fingers pinch at it, she started to notice it herself. The seams, the hems, the collar, they all gave the sweater a unique character, and the color was starting to seem almost negligible.

“I can still tell the whites from the darks,” Levi said.

“How much can you see?”

Levi nodded and gave her a wry smile, the first in a long time. “Just enough to pick up some colors.”

“I think you may have mixed some of the lights and darks together. ,” Hange said.

Levi seemed deep in thought for a second. “It’s dim in the laundry room. When it’s darker, I can’t see as much, maybe that’s it,” he explained. He pinched at the hems as he spoke, running his hand quickly over it, as if trying to distract himself. “I just have to do better at figuring it out.”

“But now...” Hange said. “If you can’t tell the whites from the darks…”

“I can. It’s just harder to tell at times.” Levi hummed. “Let me try to explain it… When in a room, I don’t see anything. But in a well lit room, like now…” He paused for a second longer.

Hange was starting to get impatient. “Like now?”

Levi fell back on the bed and stared up ahead at the ceiling. “Hange, tell me, how many colors can you see in the dark?”

***

She did the laundry again that night, particularly for the more dirtied bundle.

In the dim laundry room, she closed her eyes for a moment, just for long enough to understand it herself. Her eyes would naturally search for light and in the darkness, they still seem to find it.Yet, Hange was sure that that was the closest thing she could get to total darkness.

Once she finished, she retired to the bedroom, turned on the lights of the room once again. Unlike before, it did nothing to wake Levi or even have him stirring, half asleep. His own condition had actually made him a better sleeper over time.

Hange put whatever dried up clothes back in the closet and just to answer the burning question for herself, she didn’t turn off the lights. She fell back on the bed, just like Levi had done hours ago. She closed her eyes tightly and the lights above stayed within range for just a second longer and the longer Hange made sense of herself, the clearer it started to become.

Darkness wasn’t pitch black. Darkness wasn’t nothing. It was a slew of shadows, lines and glimmers. It was a dark blue, a light blue in places and if she searched for it, a subtle shade of green.

Eyes were just constantly looking for something to see.

How many colors can you see in the dark? The darkness was endless and Hange was sure, if she looked hard enough, she may even see every shade in the spectrum.

That should be the same for Levi right? Hange thought to herself. She turned to a sleeping Levi, tracing the lines under his eyes, the tense jaw and when she stared for a little too long, she was cruelly reminded, the difference was right there.

She could open her eyes when she grew tired from searching for colors. Levi couldn’t.

An attempt at an awkward apology, Hange turned towards Levi, pulled herself closer, pressed her forehead on his, found rhythm in his breathing, picked out the moment the rhythm broke. Then there was a light brush on her cheeks, light yet ticklish enough for Hange to just ponder for a second how long Levi’s eyelashes really were.

She let out that laugh that tickled at her throat and she pressed her lips against his.

“You can stop now. I’m awake,” Levi’s lips pulled up into a smile. “Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing,” Hange answered almost instinctively.

“You never laugh at nothing.”

Hange sighed then she turned on her back. “I was just thinking about something.”

“About…”

“You know, there are things the eyes can’t see right? But are still very much there?” As soon as it came out of her mouth, all to a dead response, Hange realized, it wasn’t funny at all.

It had never been funny. It was just a glimmer of hope and she just hadn’t felt a glimmer of hope in a while.

***

There were colors in total darkness. There were colors the eyes couldn’t see but they were colors that the ears, the nose, the tongue, the skin had no problems making.

Getting Levi acquainted with them was a daunting task.

It took weeks to get Levi familar with the hems of each sweater, the collars of his shirts and the areas were seams split wide enough to make a noticeable dent just between his fingers.

Soon enough, Hange realized, Levi didn’t need the dent, or he didn’t need the areas were the strings awkwardly bunched up together. Sometimes the areas were the threads lined up perfectly were enough of a hint.

How Levi could have figured it out, Hange could never tell but progress was still progress.

The work at the kitchen continued, the cleaning continued and most days, Hange could pretend it was just like before. If she avoided looking closely at how Levi’s hands hovered lightly over surfaces, how he pressed his hand against the wall before he made a turn, she could pretend he was just slightly clumsier than usual.

And most days it did work. Levi was always improving, getting used to whatever view he had every morning. Sometimes, she could even pretend he wasn’t struggling at all.

A ripple in whatever progress they set for themselves came as a knock on the door and a surprise visit.

It was a lazy Saturday morning, Hange was lounging on the couch, Levi was preparing lunch when they first knocked on the door.

“Is this a bad time?” Armin asked.

It wasn’t and Hange didn’t think it ever would be. The cadets always had a special place in her heart. She didn’t need too much to reassure Armin. She let the wide smile play at her lips, she then let her head cock to the side.

“You wanna stay for lunch?” Hange asked. She turned to Levi who was looking up at them too, his eyes wide with surprise.

“We can make a little more,” Levi volunteered.

Armin shook his head. “No thank you. Mikasa and I will be visiting Eren’s grava after this. We just wanted to drop some things over.” He dropped the plastic bag on the coffee table and turned to Levi. “It’s been a while. We don’t see you go out as much anymore.”

“Hange offered to help with groceries so there’s no need to,” Levi explained, his expression completely deadpan, enough of a reminder for Hange that they never did tell anyone about.

“I noticed you’ve been sending a lot of mail… to doctors I think? And I saw you’ve been reading a lot of medical books so when these were sent over to the office, I thought you’d want them as soon as possible. They arrived at the office this morning.”

“From where?”

“It was sent with a letter apparently, from the medical society of Marley,” Armin explained.

“Yeah, I requested that.” Hange settled on the sofa and ran her hands through the package. The medical society of Marley was one of the most technologically advanced yet somehow, had been the most difficult to contact.

She unwrapped the packaging to find books. A quick look at the cover and Hange found they were case studies. She ran her eyes over the cover, then quickly through the pages. She took a deep breath.

Nothing at all about a cure, yet many pages about management, symptoms and cases. Then she ran her hand over the letter. She ripped the envelope open and unfolded the letter with one flick.

Hange had always been a quick reader but she only needed one second to realize, she didn’t need to read the rest of the letter.

Her eyes had only been searching for one word, cure.

No cure. That was the only answer she found..

“You okay?” MIkasa asked. Suddenly, she was right next to Hange.

Hange only needed to feel the hand on her shoulder and to see the surprised look on MIkasa’s face to accept it as truth. She was trembling, she was shaken. And for just a moment, Hange was feeling hopeless.

“I’m fine. Just a bit disappointed with the research I was doing.” “If I may ask… what research?” Armin asked hesitantly.

Hange managed a shrug and an almost uninvested expression. “Something about being able to see colors in the dark.”

And it looked like that had been enough. Mikasa and Armin didn’t prod more deeply than that.

Apparently, the disease would progress. Maybe over months, maybe over years but eventually, the subject would become completely blind.

The literature called him a subject but the word subject had always felt cold and calculating. Hange didn’t like the word patient either. He was Levi and he would always be Levi.

Tired of the negativity, the coldness, Hange put away the books, somewhere where even Levi wouldn’t find it to somewhere even she would need a chair to reach.

To hell with it, she wouldn’t be missing it for a long time. She was in a new stage of the process, the grieving process, the denial process, the acceptance process, one of those.

Either way, one thing was sure, it still fucking hurt like a bitch. And in her own way, she knew she had to find a way to shake it off. She opened the door then before leaving she let out a final greeting. “Just going out for a bit!” She said loud enough that Levi should hear.

And she slammed the door behind her. To clear her head, Hange went out to the streets and made the calming journey around the block.

They lived in a quiet residential area within what used to be walled Sinna, conducive for walks any time of the day. And Hange had learned over the years, keeping to some steady rhythm when she walked, keeping her breaths relaxed, she could easily take back whatever control she had lost.

Hange then tried another trick.

The end of the block led down to a downward slope and right in front of her was blue sky, framed by buildings on both sides. Out of instinct, or maybe just out of a burning curiosity Hange hadn’t tapped into yet, she closed her eyes.

Blue. Her view behind closed eyes was a light blond for just a split second.

Light blue but it never turned a dark blue. Then she started to search for contours between the light and the dark, then shapes, some of the perfectly geometric, other almost incomprehensible blobs.

Then Hange took a deep breath. The early autumn air around her seemed to tickle at her nostrils, the rustle of the leaves seemed to brush at her ears. Her lips were dry and they tasted a little bit like metal.

“Excuse me.” Of all things, it had been a passerby just behind her who had pulled her out of her trance.

“Sorry about that,” Hange responded almost instinctively. She moved to the side of the sidewalk, stood by and watched.

And having just fallen out of the last trance, suddenly Hange was finding anything to focus on. “What’s that big bag?” Hange asked, biting her lip soon after. Who the hell asks that out of nowhere?

“It’s a guitar,” the stranger asked matter-of-factly. If she had been at least a little offended by Hange, she didn’t show it.

In fact, the conversation seemed to flow a little more easily after that. It turned out there was a shop only a few minutes away, long enough for that instrument to draw Hange in.

She was out for an hour longer than she had expected. That one hour though was long enough to pick out a guitar, pick out some easy sheet music and guidebooks.

Hange came home late that evening but with two hands full with impulse purchases, brimming with newfound excitement.

***

Even in the deepest blackness, there were colors that shone clearly.

You just have to look for it. Hange whispered to herself, an attempt at self motivation.

One bout of serendipity and Hange found a new way to pass the time, that same time she had used up messaging every researcher and eye doctor in the international network.

In the evenings, she was reading tabs and sometimes, she was trying out the different chords, allowing her fingers to slowly get used to the soft nylon of the guitar, and the riffs which were unnatural to the touch.

One week into it, she was making music but admittedly, she was a little sloppy. A day or so after that, Hange decided to pick the sound for herself when she closed her eyes.

When she graduated from awkwardly pressing riffs and hearing unnecessary splats as she strummed, she opened up the lyrics.

And she only had to sing it once to feel the almost consoling burn in her throat, the rush in her cheeks and just her chest full, brimming with some cross between excitement and relief.

Eyes closed, hands moving, she seemed to see more colors, some colors she swore she had never seen before.

“Hey, can you sing that song?”

“Which song?”

“The one you sing on the balcony.”

Hange let out that wry smile. She looked away in instinct as she felt the blood rush up her cheeks, only reminded a second later, Levi wouldn’t have seen it. “You can hear it? I could have sworn I closed the door.”

“I still heard you, perfectly clear,” Levi retorted.

Hange cocked her head to the side, suddenly feeling like a five year old stealing from a cookie jar. Then she wondered, why the hell she had been hiding it in the first place. In her decades of managing squads and armies, somehow, she wondered how she made a mistake out of a stupid yet simple decision.

“I wanted it to be perfect before I let you listen,” Hange admitted. “But now that I think about it, maybe you would have enjoyed the process… of me learning?”

“I wouldn’t know if you don’t let me listen.”

Levi rarely made eye contact with Hange those days. There was no reason too when there was nothing to connect with. At that moment, he seemed to have deliberately met her gaze with his own unseeing one, an expectant look on his face.

Even before Levi had voiced the request, Hange was sure, she could never say no. She padded to one end of the room, taking the guitar hanging that sat on one of the shelves, and pulled it close to her.

“It’s an easy song,” Hange warned.

“Music is still music,” Levi said. “Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sing.”

Hange played the opening chords, slowing down just a bit as she felt the bed shake, then a warm body pressed on her back. Levi had lain on the bed, pressed his forehead to her back, or that was the quickest guess she could make as she concentrated on coordinating her still very amateur fingers.

The opening chorus passed peacefully. To Hange, that was enough of an achievement.

“What’s the song?” Levi asked.

“Ir’s called ‘You are my sunshine.’ There was someone who met me at the music store and she recommended that since it’s easy to learn. Is it too mushy for you?” Hange asked, stifling a nervous laugh.

“It sounds just fine to me,” Levi said.

Hange saw that as a cue to continue. She strummed again, opening with a few chords then the first verse.

Even laying on the bed, seemingly unmoving, Hange seemed to sense investment, attentiveness from Levi. Maybe Levi was just waiting for his own chance to speak.

“Please don’t take my sunshine away,” Levi let it out as a whisper but Hange couldn’t help but pick out the remnants of a melody that seemed to die at his throat.

“Maybe if we sing that line enough times, it might just work.” A shoddy attempt to lighten the mood. It was only after the second verse did Hange realize how depressing the song actually had been. She turned to Levi, an apologetic smile on her face.

“I still see the sun you know,” Levi said. When you open the windows in the morning, or the curtains, I still see the white, sometimes I see yellow. When the sun rises, I still know that it’s morning.” Levi was surprisingly talkative or Hange suspected, there was something about how she was carrying herself that Levi could have sensed from his place in bed.

Hange pushed the guitar right under the bed, and lay in bed next to him. “You told me before, you still see other colors. But it still hurts right?”

“It does,” Levi admitted.

“Then you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t. What I wanna do is I wanna try to enjoy whatever is still there,” Hange reached her hand just a little to her left, close enough to just grip at his fingertips. “But i won’t be able to help, if you don’t tell me what you want to work on.”

Levi hummed for a second. “Work on your guitar skills.”

“I don’t need that reminder. What else?”

“Just help around the house more I guess…” Levi’s voice lacked fervor and Hange wasn’t at all convinced.

“You can think harder than that,” Hange responded firmly.

Levi didn’t respond immediately. And maybe the silence between them had worked to rack Levi’s brain. His answer was unexpected, simple but it seemed to make sense. “I want you to describe things to me.”

“Things?”

“How our house looks like, how the outside looks like every season, how you look like.” Levi answered. “One day,I’m going to forget how everything looks like, the colors, the trees, our house.... What if I told you, I’m scared of forgetting how you look like?”

It was easy enough to give. “I’m still here. I’ll look in the mirror and I’ll tell you how I look like,” Hange said. She stood up, walked towards the mirror next to her desk, making out whatever she could under the dim moonlight. “Big nose, always chapped lips, messy brown hair, small eyes.”

“Did you know, your eyes are bigger without your glasses.”

Instinctively, Hange pulled out her glasses, only to be greeted by whatever blur she had become in the mirror. “I can’t see it now.” But she was a quick thinker. Hange pressed her fingers to her good eye, tracing her eyelids then her bags underneath.

It took a little more than a few seconds to thread through them carefully and she could never tell if they really were big without comparing them to anyone else.

It wasn’t about what she saw though, it was about what Levi wanted to see.

She walked back to the bed, holding Levi’s hand between her finger and she pressed his good hand to her eyelids. “Will this let you remember?” She only had to guide his hands through her eyelids before he took the reigns. His hands travelled lightly over her lashes, then to the bags underneath, resting heavily and long enough for Hange to feel the pressure to her bones.

The hands fell to her large nose, then as if falling over a cliff, they fell almost quickly over her lips. Suddenly, Hange was self conscious of how dry they were.

“You should lick your lips more,” Levi whispered.

Hange couldn’t even find the right moment to let her tongue out and lick them. Levi’s fingers stayed for a second longer on her lips, heavily enough that it was difficult to even mouth words in between.

Still, she attempted. “Have your lips always been dry?” She pressed her own fingers to his lips,

“You’ve kissed them before right?”

She saw that as some cue to draw nearer and maybe it was. Levi didn’t turn away or pull away. Instead, he did his part and their lips locked.

Levi’s lips weren’t dry. And Hange wondered how many times they had kissed, how many times they had even touched lips yet it had never been so much as even a passing thought.

Eyes closed, she felt it, she tasted it then she relished the in betweens. In complete darkness, there were still colors to expereince, colors to see. It was just a matter of finding it.

Levi’s hands fell forward, landing on her neck, then down to the collar of her shirt.

She didn’t want it to end there. Hange held his hand just an inch away from her, before guiding it down towards the buttons of her polo and Levi got the message.

He held both hands a hairs breadth away from the buttons of her shirt, then pressed at them slowly one by one. Despite not having any visual aids, he still had close to perfect coordination.

He then pulled at her undergarments, delicately and slowly and Hange did her part. She pulled at his own sweater, flinging it to the side of the room before falling next to him on the bed.

“Do you want me to describe anything for you?” Hange offered.

It was late at night, the room was dim save for the moonlight, there wouldn’t be much to talk about beyond their bodies half naked right next to each other. Still, if Levi asked, it would have been worth a try.

“No. I’ll figure it out for myself,” Levi said. Once again, his hands were pressed on her face, this time tracing her cheeks. They sat for a second on the cheeks just below her eyes, before falling onto her chin.

Somehow, by just the movements of his fingers, Hange could pick out a little of what he could have been seeing. Levi didn’t have to see it for her to feel it.

He had pressed his fingers over the apple on her cheeks then right down to the dimples underneath and even in the darkness, the circular movements seemed to goad whatever smile out of Hange.

“Are you done?” Hange asked, keeping her voice light, keeping the laugh in them very much apparent.

“How long will you give me?”

“Take as long as you need,” Hange said, The last thing she would have wanted would be for Levi to forget.

“How much will you let me do?”

“We’ll do what you want.”

Levi smirked. “You’re pretty generous tonight.”

“I have one condition.”

Levi raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“After this… after everything we do tonight, I want you to tell me about it. Tell me about everything you see in the dark.”

[velvetcloxds]

WIZARDS IN BEACON HILLS| D.T.

Pairing: Dean Thomas x Fem! Reader,  Harry Potter x Teen Wolf

Word count: 2418 words

Warning: toxic family?

Summary: Dean, Seamus and Neville join the reader to visit her hometown of Beacon Hills for Christmas finding a slightly unconventional family setup.

“Put that away,” I say, sighing tiredly as Neville stumbles to do as I ordered, stuffing his wand into the inside of his jacket. Seamus and Dean share a subtle glance between the two of them, trying to avoid my eyes. “What?” I ask and Dean is the only one to look my way, he smiles slightly as he pushes his hands into his pants pockets.

“You’re nervous.” He notes carefully, stepping closer when passengers start crowding the platform. I scoff softly, rolling my eyes as he watches me carefully.

“I am perfectly calm,” I retort, proving myself wrong as my voice rises in tone, his smile grows and I simply shake my head to dismiss him. “I have no reason to worry.” I say and all three of the boys nod in agreement.

“Exactly.” Dean replies, smile faltering when his eyes linger on something behind me. I tilt my head back to see what he’s looking at, sighing almost instantly when the red-haired little weasel comes into view.

“Ignore her,” I say as I turn back to him, even though his attention remains solely latched on Ginny Weasley as she shamelessly grips onto the hand of Harry Potter. “Dean,” I call and he looks over at me when my hand softly grazes his shoulder. I pull away immediately, hoping he doesn’t notice the warmth in my cheeks as our eyes meet. Smile from earlier replaced with the same depressed stare I’ve been stuck with for weeks. I sigh softly. “I mean it, Dean. She cheated on you; she doesn’t deserve another second of your attention.” I tell him surely and he shakes his head in reply.

“Easier said than done when they’re everywhere.” He replies, looking back at the pair again.

“It’s a good thing we’re leaving then,” Seamus notes, a hand on Dean’s shoulder as he turns to me. “Right, Y/n?” He asks me hopeful and I hover for a second before nodding enthusiastically.

“Yes,” I say loudly and put on a smile. “Far away in fact,” I tell him and grab my bag from the ground when the doors of the train open for people to go inside. “And crazy family aside, you’ll all love Beacon Hills.” Dean meets my gaze for a brief second before his smile returns.

“I’m sure we will,” He says, picking up his own bag before reaching over and taking mine, raising a brow when I try and stop him. “I got it.” Is all he says as he nods for me to head inside, looking back at Ginny briefly before following me, Seamus and Neville trailing behind him sheepishly.

“When will the trolley come by?” Neville asks, peaking around the train as people settle into their seats. I smile as he sits back down, flinching when Seamus slaps his hand away from the armrest.

“It’s not that type of train,” Dean tells him, skootching in beside me, smiling when our arms brush against each other. “At least not the type you’re used to,” He adds, pulling four packets of peanuts out of his pocket and throwing it towards the boys. “Complementary.” He says mockingly as Neville stares down at the nuts confused. I laugh softly, sinking into my seat as I move to look out of the window, ignoring the feeling of Dean’s arm that rest against mine on the arm rest.

“Tell me about your family?” Dean asks after a long moment, the train starting to move as Seamus and Neville argue softly about whether there should be raisins in the peanut packets. I turn back to Dean, smiling at the already intrigued expression on his face. I shrug.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” He replies quickly, eyes raking their way over my face slowly. “You never talk about them, is all and if we’re spending Christmas with them…” He trails off as I nod.

“Well, my mother is Talia, she’s the best of us, kind and good, never hovers to help someone who needs it. Laura is the oldest, she’s a pain, always trying to keep us in order, no room for mistakes. Derek is my older brother, he’s a sweetheart if he wants to be, but he’s also the most annoyingly protective person you’ll ever meet. And Cora is the youngest, she’s like the female version of Derek if I’m honest, but angrier.” I say, stopping myself when I realize how long I’ve been talking, turning to look at him, he smiles.

“They sound lovely.” He offers as a reply.

“They are,” I retort and sigh. “With the exception of my uncle Peter of course, who is quite frankly the worst of us. Always working some sort of angle, only looking out for himself. When he found out what I was, he demanded I be sent to Hogwarts, as far away from the family as possible,” I scoff. “He made me out to be some sort of disgrace.” I comment, tensing up when Dean’s hand softly folds over mine.

“You’re not,” He informs me and pulls his hand away as quickly as he extended it. “You could never be anything but perfectly brilliant,” He says and shoots a somewhat warning gaze towards Seamus when he looks over at me questioningly. Dean shakes his head, turning to be facing the boys instead of me. “I look forward to meeting them all,” He informs me and closes his eyes. “Wake me when we’re there.” He says and I can’t help but frown as I look at him, confused by the sudden mood shift that is not only completely bizarre, but not like him at all.

“Would you like one?” Neville asks, holding out a packet of peanuts towards me, smiling shyly when I shake my head.

“No thank you,” I say and lean forward to ruffle his hair when he blushes. “You boys should get some rest as well, it’s a long ride.” I inform them before turning back to look out of the window.

The ride seems to pass in a blur, my mind so busy that it felt like mere minutes before Dean was carrying my bag out of the Beacon Hills train station, Neville and Seamus having to be called every few minutes when they get distracted by muggles and their strange accents.

“Don’t you dare.” I whisper angrily when Seamus start trailing away from the set path that leads to the house. He steps away slowly, flinching back when he passes my pointed finger. Dean gives him a serious look as he falls into step next to Neville.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks me and I nod quickly, looking around for the markers I set up years ago to remind me of the way. He passes one bag to Neville before lightly placing a hand on my back as we walk. “Y/n…” He whispers, the sudden closeness of his voice making me shiver. “It’s okay if you’re nervous.” He tells me and I stop. Neville and Seamus stumbling behind me to do the same. I look up at the large Hale mansion that stands in all it’s glory just past the last couple of trees. I breathe out slowly.

“I haven’t been home in years,” I say and look to Dean carefully. “What if it’s horrible? What if everything has changed? What if they somehow hate me even more?” I ask him quietly, knowing that Neville and Seamus have very subtly stepped back to give me some space. Dean’s face softens as he looks at me.

“They couldn’t possibly hate you, Y/n Hale,” He tells me and shrugs. “Everything will be perfectly fine,” He adds and softly pushes me to start walking with him again. “If it helps, I won’t leave your side the entire time.” He promises with a sweet smile and I return the notion as we still at the front door where Derek and Laura are already waiting for us, the scene in the woods probably catching their attention.

Derek is the first to smile as he sees me, eyes catching everything, from the boys behind me to Dean’s hand on my back- where his gaze lingers a little longer before our eyes meet again.

“Little sister.” Laura comments as we stop next to them and Derek scoffs before skipping the stairs and pulling me into a hug, making sure to pull me away from Dean in the process.

“I’ve missed you,” He announces as he pulls away, purposefully ignoring the pure existence of the boys. “Laura has been acting like a drill sergeant since mom left.” I frown at the statement and look to Laura for answers. She shakes her head.

“Later,” Is all the offers before turning to the boys. “I didn’t know you were bringing more wizards here.” She notes, looking them over slowly, I scoff and so does Derek.

“She told us she was bringing friends from school, Laura. What did you think they would be?” He asks her dryly and then turns to Dean with and extended hand. “Derek.”

“Dean.” The two shake hands and Derek does the same with Neville and Seamus, my eyes remaining glued to Laura’s through the entire interaction, the clear disapproval in her eyes making my body ache.

Dean moves closer to me again, making sure not to touch me but hovering close, like he had promised he would.

“Derek will take you to your rooms.” Laura informs the boys, leaving no room for questions as Derek leads them inside, Dean catches my eye before disappearing.

“Is Cora here?” I ask and Laura shakes her head.

“She went with mom to the pack meeting out of town.” She says and knowing I’d ask more she lifts a hand to dismiss me. “No more questions, Y/n. The people who wanted to be here are here.”

“And you?”

“Well, I didn’t have a choice.” She replies coldly before turning and walking into the house. I take a slow, shaky breath before following her inside, the usually busy house silent and empty as she leads me through it.

I ignore the ache in my chest as I pass multiple empty rooms, knowing damn well that the only reason they’re empty is because I decided to return and no one wanted to be here when I did.

“I once tried to make it by using a spell, but it exploded everywhere.” Seamus says as we enter the kitchen, looking into a glass. Neville smiles at his side.

“You’re used to that though, aren’t you?” He questions and Seamus frowns, mumbling something under his breath as Dean and Neville laugh.

“Y/n, have you made any potions yet?” Derek asks when he notices me, pulling something out of the oven in the process, hiding the fact that he didn’t use an oven mitt. I nod with a slight smile.

“Many,” I answer, absentmindedly stilling next to Dean by the counter. “Although none of mine exploded.” I add and Seamus mocks a laugh.

“What type of potions do you make?” Derek asks as well and Neville excitedly starts naming all the different potions we’ve learned since first year, dumbing them down for Derek to understand.

Dean leans closer, turning to whisper in my ear. “You okay?” I look over at Laura who is still hovering at the door, hearing everything, including Dean’s whisper. I hold her gaze as I nod.

“Perfectly fine.” I answer, avoiding Dean’s gaze as the conversation continues, the boys managing to entertain Derek for hours with stories of creatures and spells, most of which not exactly supposed to be shared with muggles, but all of them too busy to remember. Dean watches me through the night, looking away when I notice and joining in on the conversation soon after. Laura went upstairs, not pleased with Derek’s curiosity about the wizard world, the party having moved to the sitting room.

Soon however, it became dark and the fatigue from the long train ride caught up with us, Neville and Seamus stumbling to their assigned rooms to get some sleep before Christmas morning, excited for whatever presents their owls might deliver to them from the other side of the world.

“You can go too, Derek.” I say, arms folded over my chest as he sits on the couch between Dean and I, looking over at us curiously.

“I’m not tired just yet,” He informs me, shuffling to get comfortable. “Besides, Dean hasn’t been very transparent with his intentions.” He announces and I almost swallow my tongue.

“Derek Hale,” I say, trying not to wake whoever might be asleep already. “Dean is my friend.” Derek smiles.

“Maybe. But friends don’t look at friends the way he looks at you,” He notes and Dean is the one to shift in his seat this time, avoiding both my gaze and Derek’s. “See, he’s not even denying it.”

“There’s nothing to deny, he was just trying to make sure I was okay,” I say and get up from the couch. “Which was very much appreciated, because clearly you haven’t gotten the memo just yet,” I announce and swallow as Derek’s playful protectiveness shifts to worry. I sigh, pushing down my emotions to muster up a semi-calm look. “It has been a long day, Derek and I’m tired. Could I please have a moment of peace before bed?” I ask and he hovers, clearly going through every outcome of his reply, looking at Dean who is looking at me and then looking at me with a sigh.

“Okay,” He decides and stands up, pausing to look down at Dean. “Just remember, you may have a wand, but I have claws and I don’t mind using them.” He informs the thoroughly confused boy before slowly leaving the room and threading up the stairs.

We walk out to the terrace, him taking a seat on the wall as I stand in front of him. There’s a long pause of silence as he stares up at me, taking in every movement I make and watching with intense focus as I stare back at him.

“I shouldn’t have come home,” I say suddenly and he tilts his head. “I’ve driven them all away, not even Peter showed up,,” I add and briefly feel the shaking of my hands. “Could I possibly be so damn awful to be around that not even my own mother wants to see me?”

“No,” He answers quickly and jumps up from his seat. “No.” He repeats more calmly and takes my hand in his own. “You’re not the problem, Y/n. Besides, it’s their loss. If they can’t look past something as ridiculous as your magic to see everything else about you then it is most certainly their loss,” He tells me and lifts our hands to be raised in between us. “I for one can’t think of a single thing that would keep me away from you.” He says, voice softer this time, likes he’s thinking out loud and he lifts his other hand to stroke a single finger over my cheek. I look down, cheeks reddening once again as his hand lingers on my face.

“He’s right about that stare.” I whisper, instinctively grabbing his jacket to center myself before closing my eyes.

“He is.” He answers and I shake my head.

“But Ginny…” I say, ignoring the objection of my mind and looking up at him once more. He shakes his head with a smile.

“She isn’t you. She’s never been you, which is why I broke up with her months ago,,” He smiles at my confusion. “She did cheat on me, but honestly I might as well have done the same because how very wrong of me to feel what I feel for you when I’m actually dating her,” He admits and he might as well have explained nothing because at least a hundred new questions pop into my head. He smiles, releasing my hand to grasp the other side of my face. “You’re my best friend.” He says and I nod.

“And you are mine.” I say, tightening my hold on his jacket.

“But I can’t keep denying that I am completely and utterly in love with you.” He says and leans closer, hovering above my lips.

“Thank Merlin.” I whisper, breathless with anticipation before his lips softly meet mine.

Hi there, more of my work can be found on Wattpad under @mjoubert. Mxx.

Masterlist

[bonnyskies]

come back to me [eighteen] ⇢ jjk

you’re willing to do anything to save your marriage, even if that meant you’d have to sacrifice your own happiness to do so.

pairing — husband!jungkook x malereader, ft. ceo!jaehyun

genre — angst, sexual themes, idol au, exes to lovers-ish au, open relationship au, marriage au, parents au

series warnings — infidelity (kinda?), swearing, bisexual!jungkook, jealous!jungkook, insecure!reader, unhealthy relationship, unrequited love-ish, slow burn, use of alcohol, mentions of divorce problems, (more could be added in future chapters)

word count — 3.2k

author’s note — judging from how this story is progressing, there’ll be two more chapters before the epilogue.

masterlist

Jungkook couldn’t hear anything.

He couldn’t hear his two hyungs calling out his name, asking him what’s wrong, or even his son who stood right beside him, grasping and tugging on the sleeves of his jacket with a pout on his lips, wondering what was the reason for this father’s sudden change in behavior.

His world, the one that he has been trying to rebuild from scratch was slowly tearing apart and crashing down all around him once again.

Both Namjoon and Jimin glanced at each other before staring at the younger member with worry. Neither of them have ever seen him act like this before, and that was concerning because even when you two were going through the process of finalizing your divorce he didn’t behave this way.

“Jungkookie,” came out of Jimin’s mouth as he took a seat beside the maknae on the couch. “You’ve got to tell us what’s wrong if you want us to help you.”

Again, Jungkook was silent— at least, that was until Jimin nudged him at his side, breaking him out of his thoughts. “S-Sorry, what do you say?”

“What’s wrong?”

This time, it was Namjoon who spoke up, standing in front of the two members with his arms crossed over his chest and staring down at them with an intent gaze in his eyes.

Jungkook opened his mouth, but stopped himself from answering when turning his head and seeing his son still standing right beside him. “Bubs,” he then speaks up. “Can you go wait in the living room while I talk with your samchons? You can play on my phone.”

“Okay, appa...” Minho seemed hesitant at first, but obeyed nonetheless, taking his father’s phone and leaving without saying another word.

“Are you finally going tell us what’s wrong, now?” Jimin asks once Minho was out of the room, and when he did, the two members fell into silence. Now they understood why the young maknae was such a trembling mess when coming back from checking who was at the door.

Nobody knew what to say, only Namjoon spoke up after a few seconds of tensed silence between them three. “When are you going to tell ___?”

The moment Jungkook heard that question he shot up from the couch with wide eyes and shook his head vigorously. “I-I’m not!”

“What?” Jimin’s eyes widened, gaping at him. “You have to tell him, Jungkook.”

“I-I can’t, hyung. You don’t understand,” continuing shaking his head, Jungkook tried to say without stuttering but failed. “If I tell him about this then it’s over, we’re done and I lose him forever.”

“But keeping this from him is wrong—”

“I just can’t!” Jungkook suddenly snaps, surprising both him and the two other members. “I-I’m so close to getting him back, hyung.” Heavy tears glistened in his brown eyes as he stared at the two of them. “He said that this is my last chance to make things right between us, so if he learns about this then it’s over. I’ll lose him for good this time.”

When the thought of losing you crossed his mind, the tears that Jungkook tried so hard to keep inside of him escaped and slid down his cheeks.

“A-And, I can’t lose him hyung,” he was now fully sobbing at his point, loud cries coming out of his mouth as he collapsed back onto the couch and shoved his face into the palm of his hands. “Not when I’m so close to getting him back—to getting my family back.”

“Jungkook,” sighing, Namjoon sat down beside him and wrapped his arm comfortingly around his shoulders. “I know you’re scared—but isn’t lying and keeping secrets what got you two here in this situation in the first place?”

And when Jungkook slowly nodded, face still covered by his palms he continued. “If you start lying and keeping secrets again, then it doesn’t matter if you two fix things—because everything will be revealed sooner or later. Secrets never stay hidden forever.”

Jungkook sniffled, remaining silent.

“He’ll understand, Jungkook.” Jimin spoke up, taking a seat on the other side of him and placed a comforting hand on his thigh. “___ loves you so much, you two will get through this—together.”

“You know,” raising his head up from his hands, Jungkook wiped the remaining tears that stained his face. “When ___ told me that he was giving me another chance I was so happy. My heart was racing nonstop and the smile on my face was so wide that my jaw even started to ache.”

Jungkook then sighed, glancing down and staring at his conjoined hands, the grip he had on himself being tight enough to where his knuckles were starting to turn white. “I thought everything would be perfect once we got back home, and it has been. He let me move back into the house, and we’re even planning to have dinner together tonight as a family. But that all came to shit when Yeonha came and told me—” he stopped, feeling another sob coming up his throat and more tears stinging his eyes.

“I could see him, you know.” Jungkook continued, “When Yeonha told me, I could visually picture ___ in front me, crying and hitting me, forcing me to sign my name on our divorce papers—the ones that he has signed already, and—” he paused, this time not being able to stop himself from crying. “I can’t lose him, hyung. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t...”

Jungkook kept repeating those two words as bawled until Jimin wrapped his arms around him and pulled him to his chest. “I know that this is hard Jungkookie, but being honest is the best way to go about this. Lying will only make things worse between you two.”

Jungkook sighed, nodding and using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the stray tears that were still streaming down his face. He knew he was right.

“I-I’m just scared, hyung...”

“—hey, are you alright?”

Jungkook’s eyes instantly tore away from his plate at the sound of your concerning voice, gaze falling on your worried expression. Jungkook quickly nodded his head and spewed out a weak, “Y-Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure,” you continued to question. “You’ve not spoken a word since you got home.”

“S-Sorry, I’m just tired that’s all.” Jungkook attempted to dismiss the topic but when staring at your expression, he knew that he couldn’t escape it any longer.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Reaching across the table, you gently placed your hand over his, unaware of how his heart skipped a beat from your touch.

Jungkook stared at you, eyes filled with many emotions that he was having trouble containing. Before saying anything, he glanced at Minho who sat silently between the two of you, playing with the few leftovers of cooked broccoli on his plate. “Hey bubs,” he spoke softly. “Can you please go to your room so that your appa and I can talk privately?”

Minho pouted, “But I want to stay and have family dinner with you two—”

“Please, bubs.” Jungkook begged, eyes softening.

You watched as your son then frowned but nodded nonetheless, standing up from his seat and pushing his chair in underneath the table. “Okay, appa.”

“I-Is everything alright,” came out of your mouth the moment you two were alone at the table, eyes filled with worry and concern.

Jungkook’s eyes glanced around everywhere except for your eyes, obviously trying to avoid your gaze—which only made the anxious feeling growing in the pit of your stomach grow even more.

“Jungkook,” you spoke up after a brief silence. “You’re worrying me, please say something.”

He couldn’t speak, tears were already starting to burn in his eyes and he couldn’t help but place his other hand over yours, tighten his grip on you—almost as if he was afraid you’d slip away if your hand slipped from his grasp.

“There is something that I have to tell you,” Jungkook started, eyes still refusing to meet your gaze. “And I-I don’t know how to say it.”

“And that is...?”

“Yeonha came to see tonight—” and that’s when your heart sunk into the depths of your stomach.

“W-We need to talk, Jungkook.”

“Yeonha, what are you doing here?” Jungkook asks again, holding the door slightly open to where the gap was only small enough to fit his head and half of his body.

“I-I heard you were back, and I needed to talk to you in person since you weren’t answering any of my calls—”

“That’s because I blocked you,” Jungkook interrupted her quite harshly, hands gripping onto the door’s handle tight enough to where his knuckles were turning slightly white. “You wouldn’t stop calling even after I kindly asked you not to. And yet,” taking a step forward, his eyes glared down at her. “You still chose to keep calling me, knowing I was on vacation with my family.”

“It was an emergency—”

“Emergency?!” Jungkook nearly laughed at her poor excuse, eyes rolling and a scoff falling from his mouth. “The first dozen of your calls was just of you crying, begging me to give you another chance...”

It was almost ironic that Yeonha was now in the same position as he was in with you before.

“But I’m telling you the truth, Jungkook.” Yeonha’s eyes were glistening with tears, hands laced together as she practically begged him to let her continue. “This is an emergency.”

“Then what is it then?” Jungkook asks, opening the door wider and standing in front of her with his arms crossed over this chest intimidatingly.

Yeonha’s eyes briefly glanced at the either side of her, taking in the empty hallway before turning back towards Jungkook. “Can I come in, please? What I’ve got to say is kind of...private.”

Jungkook sighed but opened the door wider, stepping aside so that she could enter the room before closing it behind her. “Alright,” he then leaned against the door, arms still resting across his chest as he stared at her. “Now, what do you have to tell me?”

“I’m pregnant...”

“W-What?” Jungkook’s eyes instantly widened and arms dropped down and became limp by his side. “You’re pregnant—how? We always used protection and you’re also taking birth control.” And when he only recieved only silence from her, his eyes hardened and hands clenched into fists. “You are taking birth control, right? You told me that you were.”

Yeonha was staring down at the ground, purposely avoiding his glaring eyes while playing with her fingers anxiously. “I may have forgotten to take them—this past month.”

“What the fuck, Yeonha?!” Jungkook shouted, lowering his voice immediately afterwards when remembering that his son and two hyungs were just down the hall in the studio—barely ten feet away from where they two stood right now. “What were you thinking—”

“I-I’m sorry,” trembling slightly and tears shining in her eyes, she took a step backwards. “I meant to refill my prescription, but I kept forgetting—”

The rest of her words were muffled out. Jungkook couldn’t breathe, his heart was racing and chest was aching. When hearing that she was pregnant, his mind instantly thought of you. He couldn’t believe this happening—not when everything was beginning to return to the way it used to be. He was finally moving back home to be with you and Minho, and you three are going to have dinner tonight as a family. Everything was slowly becoming perfect again.

No, he refused to believe any of this.

“You’re not pregnant,” came out of his mouth, not a single ounce of emotion in his voice.

“What?”

“You’re not pregnant.” Jungkook repeated with a much more serious tone, eyes glaring at her. “You’re lying about being pregnant because you think that it would make me stay with you, but it won’t.”

Yeonha’s eyes widened, disbelief on her face. “You think I’m lying,” and when he nodded she continued. “Here, you asshole.”

Jungkook watched as she reached inside her purse and pulled out a pregnancy test, tossing it at him which he caught with ease. Two lines. “No, no, this can’t real—”

“Wow,” laughing loudly, Yeonha rolled her eyes. “Even after seeing the proof yourself you still don’t believe me. Well guess what, honey? I am pregnant with your kid that is actually related to you.”

The moment Jungkook heard those words—related to you—the only thing he could see was red as he took slow, intimidating footsteps towards her until he was standing right in front of her, face inches from hers. “What the hell is that suppose to mean?”

Yeonha had to admit that seeing Jungkook this way was kind of frightening, but she still stood her ground. “What do you think? I’m pregnant with your kid, someone who is actually related to you, who has your blood running through their veins. Minho isn’t even yours! You and ___ just got him from some agency—”

“Don’t you fucking finish that sentence,” Jungkook seethed, eyes and nose flaring with pure rage as he stared at her. “Minho is my son. Yes, he might not have my blood or ___’s running through his veins but we were there when he was born. We were the ones that took him home from the hospital, who raised him, who taught of him how to walk and talk. He has my name, he’s my son no matter what, and nothing will change that.”

Yeonha could only chuckle and shake her head. “Whatever you say, but that won’t change the fact that I am the one carrying your real child.”

Jungkook was about to snap again, but the sound of another voice, this one being much lighter and softer interrupted him. “Appa?” Jungkook’s face paled, noticing his son standing in the hallway with his head sticking out from around the corner and staring at him.

“Hey bubs,” pushing past Yeonha, he knelt down in front of him. “What’s wrong? Why didn’t you with your samchons like I told you to do?”

“They started singing again and I got bored. When are we going home?”

“Right now,” lifting him into his arms, Jungkook glanced at Yeonha who was staring at him with a smirk on her lips. “Let’s just say goodbye to your samchons, okay?”

The last thing he saw before going back to the studio was Yeonha smirking at him, mouthing “see you later, handsome.”

“S-She’s pregnant.”

Jungkook couldn’t say anything. After explaining everything to you his eyes were shining with tears as well as yours.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you mumbled out, eyes avoiding his and staring blankly at the dining table. You attempted to pull your hand away which resulted in him tightening his grip on you. That’s when you noticed the true emotions he hid behind his eyes—he was scared, terrified even. He was scared that if your hand slipped from his grasp, then that meant he lost you.

“I just want you to know that nothing is going to change—”

“It changes everything, Kookie,” you cut him off, raising your other hand to wipe the few stray tears that slipped from your eyes. “What are you going to do? Should we just get that divorce so that you can be with—”

Jungkook interrupted in an instant, shooting up from his seat and kneeling down in front of you. “No, we are not getting a divorce.”

“But what about Yeonha?” You couldn’t believe you were actually concerned about her, and yet, here you were. “My eomma was a single parent for most of my childhood, and I know how hard it can be for someone to raise a child alone. She needs someone there for her—”

“And I am going to be there for her,” Jungkook quickly cut in, “But I’m also not leaving you.”

You found yourself only able to nod, some sniffles escaping from your lips which made Jungkook slip his arms around your waist and pull you close to him, resting your head against his chest while his cheek was pressed gently on top of your head. “I’m sorry you’re going through this because of me. If you want, we can get a divorce. I’ll sign the papers without fighting you—”

“No,” you interrupted him, moving your hands so that they were now around his neck instead of his chest, pulling him closer to where there was no space in between you two. “I-I don’t know why I suggested that in the first place, I’m sorry...”

The thought of actually divorcing made a sour feeling in the pit of your stomach and you did not like it one bit.

Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “You don’t need to apologize, baby.”

“So what are you going to do?” You mumbled against his chest, shifting your face to nuzzle into his neck.

“Well, I’ll be going to go the doctor appointments with her,” Jungkook started, running his hands up and down your back soothingly while pressing multiple kisses along your forehead and cheeks. “And I’ll be paying for just about everything.”

You hummed in reply, eyes closed.

“But this doesn’t change anything between us,” Jungkook then adds, feeling your tensed figure against him.

“It changes everything, Jungkook.” You sighed, repeating the same exact words you said before. “She’s carrying your child.”

—or in other words, Yeonha will now be part of your guys’ life forever whether you want her to or not, and there wasn’t anything neither of you can do about it.

You didn’t have the strength to sleep.

Staring up at your bedroom’s ceiling, you couldn’t stop wondering how much your life is going to change now that Yeonha will be part of it—permanently. She’ll be around more, she’ll be around Jungkook, and Minho—

Oh god, your mind suddenly exclaimed. How are we going to explain this to Minho?

You couldn’t breathe, you needed someone—you needed him.

Just as you were about to get up from your bed, knocking was heard on the other side of the door. “___—” it was Jungkook. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I come in?” He asks on the other side, his voice barely audible, careful not to wake Minho who was asleep just down the hall. You hummed in reply, loud enough for him to hear and the door opened right after, and the sight of him took your breath away. Jungkook stood there, only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, chest fully exposed and showing off his mouth watering muscles and beautiful tattoos. “Can’t sleep?”

You found yourself only able to nod, not being able to tear your eyes away from his toned torso. “Can I sleep here?” You only nodded again, swallowing the lump building inside your throat.

You shifted to one side of the bed, giving him space to slip underneath the covers. You didn’t wait for him to be situated before cuddling up to his side, loosely draping your arm over his lower abdomen and resting your head against his chest. Jungkook became comfortable around you as well, moving his arms so that they were around you and holding you close to him.

“Jungkook,” you spoke up softly, eyes open and staring up at him. “We’re going to be fine, right?”

“Of course,” answering almost instantly, Jungkook leaned down and pecked your lips, chuckling at your flushed expression. “We’ve been through worse.” — nearly getting a divorce for that matter.

“Okay,” smiling up at him, you closed your eyes, finally feeling a sense of comfort flowing through you when being in his arms. “I love you.”

A single tear fell from his eyes, “I love you too.”

TAGLIST:

@xworldwidecutieguyx​, @yoongis-soulmate​, @jikookvfans​, @heartfeltscribblings​, @blazedprince​, @btsfaris​, @sonderkook​, @angel-moni​, @http-je0n​, @magic-fox-555​, @moonfairyjoon​, @taozibun1​, @ephemeralkookie​, @thesquiglybumblebee​, @httpjazel​, @justqueerandhereforthetea​, @dreamer95​, @singabon-roll​, @its-your-dreamworld​, @fancykoos​, @galaxyeyedjungkook​, @nlnkm​, @you-need-namjesus​, @teuteusstuff​, @moon-asia​, @julia-pacheco-blog​, @0minabean0​, @pjmislovely​, @polly-wifu​, @jinsonaz​, @unsolvetheheckoutofit​, @multihoneyfairy​, @xavi-in-kpopland​

[anagentinwriting]

Lifeline - Part 11

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 2500+

Warnings: Heart attack, fluff, angst, language

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

It was a slow day at the call center, which was a good thing, and you couldn’t help but wonder what Steve was planning. Earlier, he texted you, asking if you wanted to get lunch together, and you accepted. It’s been a couple of weeks since you hung out and had a movie night, but since then, you’ve hung out a few other times at your house watching movies and talking. It was innocent fun, nothing serious, two friends enjoying each other’s company. But, you did fall asleep on him one night after a late shift, but luckily, he didn’t seem to mind. Neither of you labeled them as dates because neither of you were looking for a relationship. You both joked about them being dates though, but they never blossomed into anything, even though one night you hoped they would. 

Your phone line ringing pulled you from your daydream. “911, what’s your emergency?”

“Um...my daddy can hardly breathe?”

“Okay, hold on for a second, sweetie.” The address popped right up since she was calling from a landline and you dispatched an ambulance to their location. It was much easier to send help when they called from landlines; cell phones were tricky because you needed to go through the carrier if you needed to get their exact location. “The ambulance is on their way.”

“Good...they need to get here real fast,” the little girl said in a calm voice.

“Okay, sweetie, what’s your name?

“Duranna Dey. My daddy’s name is Rhomann Dey.”

“Okay. How old are you, Duranna?

“I am five years old.” 

“Okay, Duranna, I need to know if your father is still awake?”

“Yeah. He called 911-- then couldn’t really talk--he gave me the phone then.”

“Your dad is a smart man. Duranna, is your front door unlocked?”

“Uh…is our front door unlocked, Daddy? Uh, no.”

“Okay, Duranna, can you go and unlock the front door for me?”

“Sure…okay, I am going to go. Don’t worry, Daddy!” You heard shuffling over the line. “Front door  unlocked.”

“That’s good, Duranna. Now can you go ask your dad if this has ever happened to him before?”

“Yeah,” she said as you heard shuffling through the phone. “Dad, has this ever happened before? He says no, and he is still awake.”

“Good. Can you ask him if he has any kind of chest pain?”

“Do you have chest pain? Yes, yes, he does.”

“Okay, hold on for a second, okay, Duranna.”

“Okay,” she replied.

You radioed the paramedics over your headset and told them the situation so they would know what they were walking into upon their arrival.

“I’m back, Duranna. Is he still awake?”

“Yeah, we’re in our jammies. Is that going to be okay, or should we get changed?”

“No, that will be fine,” you smiled at her question. “I need you to stay with your dad to make sure he stays awake.”

“Okay. I got it. Stay calm, Dad.” You could hear sirens coming over the line. “They are here now; should I hang up?”

“Yes, Duranna, you can hang up.”

“Okay, thank you, bye.”

The line went dead, and you couldn’t help but smile. Duranna was one strong, calm, brave little girl in her given situation, where some adults wouldn’t be. It was surprising, and you couldn’t help but praise her parents. You sighed, taking off your headset and setting it on the table as you went on your lunch break. 

When you walked out of your building, you saw Steve standing outside holding onto a leash with a beautiful golden retriever attached to it. You smiled, walking right up to them and crouched down to pet him. 

“Awww, you must be Cosmo,” you cooed, scrunching up his face in your hands, and quickly licked your cheek. “You’re so cute, yes you are.”

“He wanted to meet you. Wouldn’t shut up about it all morning,” Steve grinned under his baseball cap. 

“Well, it is lovely to meet you, too,” You added, bopping him on the nose. You stood up, smiling at Steve. “What are we doing for lunch?”

“Since I brought Cosmo, I thought we could take a stroll through the park. I know there are a few food trucks in the area we could check out.”

“Sounds fun,” you smirked, walking next to Steve with Cosmo out in front. “How has Cosmo been adjusting?”

“He’s doing better. He’s a little off at certain times during the day, but the vet says it’s pretty normal, and it’s all a part of the process.”

“Well, he looks happy.” You let out a soft chuckle, watching Cosmo look around with his tongue hanging out. “And he is so cute.”

“Thanks for the compliment. You know dogs do take after their owners,” he winked, forcing you to roll your eyes.

“Okay, wise guy,” you scoffed, nudging him in his side. “How’s Station 107?”

Steve cleared his throat. “Your brother gave me permission to ask you out a while ago, and he keeps reminding me about it.”

You chuckled. “Did he? Clearly, he doesn’t know how much of a guy you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You come off all innocent, but let’s be real, you’re a real troublemaker.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that information,” he chuckled, waving it off as you shake your head at him.

“It’s crazy how he gave you permission, yet you haven’t done anything about it?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes at him. “And here's Cosmo, who by the way I just met, and he has already gotten further with me than you have.”

“That hurts.” Steve feigned a pained look, holding his hand over his heart. “In my defense, I didn’t want you to feel pressured or pushed into something you weren’t ready for.”

“You never did, and that’s what makes you a good man, Steve,” you confessed, seeing his signature smirk spread across his face.  “But, my life is enough of a mess as it is, and I wouldn’t expect you or anyone else to try and take that on.”

“That’s not it at all. I’m not worried about what happened in your past. I mean, I hate what you had to go through, but it’s never going to scare me off.”

You had no words. No comeback. All you could do was smile. You reached over and grabbed a hold of his hand. “Friends, hold hands, right?”

“Yeah, last time I checked,” he grinned, squeezing your hand. You felt your face heat up under his gaze as you looked away. You tried to weld your lips together, but it was no use. You had a feeling a smile would be plastered on your face all through lunch.

You and Steve settle on getting Mexican at Wade’s Chimichangas truck when you noticed the other truck was an ice cream truck. You stood in line and noticed the guy taking orders was very chatty and looked oddly similar to Ryan Reynolds. 

“Next, oh, and what a cute couple you two are,” the Ryan Reynolds look-alike said. “I’m Wade, owner of Wade’s Chimichangas. Oh, and this sugar bear with the mustache behind me is Peter W. He saw my want ad in the paper, and he was an instant hire.” He smiled, but then it quickly turned into a frown. “This is actually the second time I hired him, the first time is when I hired him to be a part of X-force, and he died early on. Then, I time-traveled back in time after stealing this special watch from your universe's Thanos and brought Peter back to life at the end. Oops, spoiler alert,” he shrugged, staring at the empty space beside you. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to gauge the situation.

“Sorry,” he smiled. “This--” he twirled his finger in the air “--this is the wrong universe. Well, that universe technically doesn’t exist anymore since Mickey Mouse bought out Fox, and I’m not talking about the cute fox from Fox and the Hound either. No siree, this Fox was more expensive than my favorite shoe company’s net worth.” He shook his head back and forth, chuckling. “It’s going to be crazy fun! My place is safe and secure, but can’t say the same for that Australian Showman.” He nodded but stopped when a realization dawned on him. “Oh wait, dammit, he got out a few years too early. What a shame, he’s gonna miss out on some really big paychecks, but who cares about that guy anyway,” he signed. “Anyways, what can I get you two?”

“I’ll take the Almost Famous Chimichanga with rice,” Steve ordered. 

“Oh, being safe and not going with beans, smart move, Captain,” Wade replied with a wink. “And for the lady and canine?” You gave Wade your order and ordered Cosmo a simple taco.

“Cosmo doesn’t need a taco,” Steve added, shaking his head. 

“So, no taco for the canine? I am taking copious notes here.” You looked to Wade to see him licking his lips with a pen and small notebook pad in his hand. 

“Yes, taco,” you answered, and Cosmo barked.

“Majority wins. Fire up the stove, Peter. It will be a couple of minutes, folks,” Wade announced. “If only there was a superpower to make food. I mean, he or she, I’m not sexist, could solve world hunger with just a flick of their wrist or magic wand.”

“Wow, that guy must be going through something,” Steve uttered loud enough for you to hear as you both moved down the side of the truck to the pickup area. 

“Captain, you have no idea,” Wade looked over his shoulder and shot you both a tight smile. “Am I right, Peter?”

“He is,” Peter nodded, placing an order on the serving counter. “Order for the lovely couple and a taco for the gorgeous golden retriever. 

“Thanks, Peter.” You pulled your wallet from your purse, but when you looked up, Steve was already handing Peter some cash.

“My treat,” he replied, answering your silent question. 

“Next time, it’s on me.” 

“Deal,” Steve smirked, getting his change back from Peter.

“Is he a Purebred?” Peter asked, looking down at Cosmo with a smile.

“I’m not sure I rescued him.”

“That’s incredible. My wife, Susan, and I thought about adopting, but she’s been training hard with her personal trainer, Gus, a few times a week, so we weren’t sure if we were ready for a dog. I mean, some of the workouts can last like four hours, but it is doing wonders for her, and it shows.” 

“Well, when you both feel ready, give adoption a chance.” 

“I will. I’m sorry to keep you from your date with all the questions.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Steve waved it off. “That’s how you keep customers coming back, right?”

“That’s right,” Peter chuckled. “Thanks for choosing Wade’s Chimichangas. Have a good afternoon, folks.”

You grabbed your’s and Cosmo’s baskets, and Steve grabbed his, making your way over to the open benches near the sidewalk. You plopped down with Steve taking the spot next to you, and Cosmo sat right in front of you, wagging his tail and waiting for his taco.  You smirked at him, tearing off a piece and giving it to him.

“Are you getting the feeling that Susan is cheating on Peter, too?” Steve asked, taking a bite of his chimichanga. 

“Yes, I thought I was the only one thinking that,” you answered, shaking your head. “Poor guy, he seems like a good one, too.”

A comfortable silence fell between you two as you ate. It was tasty, better than you expected it would be; you weren’t sure if it was the seasoning or sauce, but you would be a returning customer. Cosmo whined, staring into your eyes as you tore off another piece and gave it to him. 

Steve smirked. “You’re gonna teach him to be a beggar.”

“Don’t listen to your dad. If you want to be a beggar, you be a beggar.” You patted him on the head, and he licked your hand. 

“Wow,” Steve mouthed, making you hit him on the arm. He cracked a contagious smile, leaning into you, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you pushed him off you. 

“You’re such as ass sometimes.”

“I am one of LA’s finest asses according to Sam,” he replied, forcing you to scoff.

_______

Taking the last bite of your lunch, you glanced at Steve, finishing off his chimichanga. He wiped his lips with his napkin and winked at you. You rolled your eyes, leaning forward and rubbing Cosmo on the head. You didn’t want to go back to work. All you wanted to do was hang out with Steve and Cosmo for the rest of the day. You sighed, looking down at your watch.

“Should we start heading back?” Steve inquired, placing a hand on your forearm. You looked at his hand, a shy smile appearing on your face. 

“Uh yeah, we probably should.” 

He stood up, offering his hand, which you took without hesitation. He squeezed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, sending a warm, comforting sensation flow through your body.  You could feel your face grow warm as you stared at Cosmo walking in front of you. You bit your lip, peeking over at Steve, not missing the smirk you were beginning to love appear across his lips. 

________

He pulled you to stop in front of your building, letting go of your hand, and you turned to face him. “Thanks for getting lunch with me and for bringing Cosmo. It was nice to meet him.” You smiled down at the dog, wagging his tail with his tongue hanging out. 

“I think he enjoyed meeting you, too,” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, I don’t know if you’ve heard about this yet, but there is this first responders charity grill out slash softball tournament this weekend. I was wondering if...”

“Yeah,” you interrupted him. “Thor already invited me, and I was planning on going.”

“Cool.” He nodded, clenching his jaw. “But, I was curious if you wanted to be my date?”

You rubbed your lips together, a smile itching its way across your lips.  “Did you finally have the nerve to ask me out?” You nudged him with your elbow repeatedly until he cracked a smile. 

“Like I said, I didn’t want to pressure you into anything.” He sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“No, it’s not that. I’m just surprised you’re already planning a second date, and we aren’t even done with the first one yet.”

His jaw dropped open as quickly as he snapped it shut. If you weren’t watching him, you would have missed it. “I never said this was a date.” 

“Yeah, but Cosmo told me it was, so who do you think I’m gonna believe. The guy I have been hanging out with or a dog willing to share all your secrets with me.”  You shrugged with both hands in front of you, trying to weigh out your best option.

“Cosmo,” Steve looked down at his dog, shaking his head. “You can’t be telling YN all my secrets.”

“He’s a talker. Aren’t you Cosmo?” You cooed, making him bark in agreement. You smiled, reaching out to scratch his head one last time. You peeked up at Steve, not missing the gentle smile fading from his lips.

“How about it, YN? Do you want to go out on another date with me?”

“Yeah,” you grinned, nodding your head. “I’d like that.”

______

AN: Thanks for reading Part 11! We are over halfway through this story and there is so much more to come! And I am excited to share it with you all! The call about the daughter and father actually was something that happened and became national news a long time ago. I came across it while I was trying to find some 911 type calls/scenarios, and figured Rhomann and Duranna Dey would be a good fit for it. And she finally got to meet Cosmo! He is actually the dog from Guardians of the Galaxy! It is just a small cameo in that movie, but I love throwing in those easter eggs if you haven’t figured that out yet, haha! Did you like the Wade Wilson and Peter W cameo?! I thought it would be an entertaining addition and Wade breaking that fourth wall is always a fun time! The slow burn may finally be coming to an end. Let's just hope this charity softball tournament/grill-out date turns into a success! As always, thanks for reading, and don't forget comments are always welcome! 

[missymurphy1985]

First Time

Cillian's a sweet, innocent 18 year old from Cork, who's about to move to Dublin to kick-start his acting career. His eyes are suddenly opened to a new world of opportunity and possibility.

Warnings - loss of virginity / smutty one shot

Taglist - @margoo0 @peakyscillian @queenshelby @janelongxox @noctvrnalmoth

"How are you doing Cill?" You walked into your best friend's house to find him at the dining table, looking through a handwritten list in his hands.

"Just checking I've got everything I need for the train in the morning - god I'm nervous!" You kissed the top of his head affectionately and squeezed his shoulder.

"It's going to be fine, okay? I know this is a change of direction for you, but you've already proved how good at this you are!" You'd seen him onstage at a local venue in Cork city the previous month and he'd blown you away with how good an actor he was. So confident, striking, and dare you say it, handsome..

"It's still performing, y/n, that's what I want. This feels right though. The music thing was fun, but this feels right. I wish you could come with me?"

"I have university, and you know my father isn't letting me leave Ballintemple anytime soon," you laughed. Your father, the local police chief, was incredibly overprotective, didn't want his daughter anywhere near the bright lights of Dublin city. Cillian's parents were much more easy going, and had welcomed you into their family almost as a third daughter, since you'd met in high school. "Think of the women you'll meet! All those city girls out on the town!" You saw his head drop slightly, and the smile vanished.

"Yeah.." he looked out the window.

"What's wrong?" You sat next to him at the table and took his hand. He'd never know what the touch of his skin did to you and that's how it would stay.

"Promise me you won't laugh, yeah? Promise me?" He held up his pinky finger to clasp it with yours. A ritual you'd had since the day you met.

"Can't break a pinky promise!" You laughed, as he quickly looked round to check the house was still empty.

"Okay.. I've never.. I've never done anything.. with a woman.." he was visibly nervous and his hands were shaky. You were shocked. Neither of you had spoken about your personal encounters with anyone else, you just assumed he'd had a few of the local girls - good looking guy, toned, slender body, confident.. this was a complete surprise to you and your face clearly expressed your shock.

"Well... Um..."

"You think I'm daft now don't ye?" He pulled his finger away from yours and fell back onto his chair.

"No. No I don't. I think.." you gulped, "I think I know what we can do.." his neck turned sharply to look at you.

"Help me? Y/n I'm not calling Marie..." His ex. She'd left him when she found out he was moving away. They'd only been dating a month or two but long enough for him to think she was actually the one he'd give himself to.

"No, god no, she's had more men than hot dinners Cill, you're well shot of her. The only thing she'd give you is something you'd need antibiotics to get rid of!" You both laughed at this. "Is anyone home?" He shook his head. His siblings were at school for another couple of hours, both his parents were at work and wouldn't be home until at least 5. You stood up and brought him to stand with you.

"You remember the pact we made? When we were 14?" You ran your hands over his shoulders. He took a deep breath and shook his head. There was a flick of recognition in his eyes, did he just want you to say it?

"We promised that if we were still virgins at 18, we'd take care of it together.. Well, we're 18 now..." You pulled him closer. You'd nearly lost yours the year before, but you didn't feel ready.

"You haven't...?" You shook your head. "We were just kids, y/n.. I can't let you do this -" your lips were on his in an instant. He was hesitant at first, before he gave in and returned the kiss passionately.

"I want to.. I've wanted to for a long time.. but then you got with Marie and I just figured it had already happened.."

"No.. just hadn't got round to it.. never felt right.."

"And does this? Does this feel right?" You took his hand and placed it on your chest. Moving it down, under your shirt and over your bra-covered breast. He gasped your name and you felt his hardness pressing into your stomach through his baggy sweatshorts.

"Yes.. this feels right.." his lips were on yours again before you pulled away to lead him up the stairs. Pushing open his door you turned to face him and lifted your t-shirt over your head slowly. His eyes watching your every move. He moved closer, his hands behind you unclasping your bra.

"Easier than they look those things..."

"Sit down on the bed yeah? I wanna try something..." He sat down, and you knelt in front of him, pulling his shorts down his knees. You gasped at his hard cock, springing up and already leaking a little. "You might have to guide me..." he smiled, and took your hand. Placing it around his cock, he moved it up and down. You carried on as he moved his hand to rest on your face softly.

"Jesus... Fuck that feels good.. bit tighter yeah?" You smiled, gripping him tighter. His hand moved closer to your mouth as you stroked him, and he brushed his thumb over your lips. You instinctively opened your mouth and his thumb moved inside, your tongue licking it slowly. You looked up into his eyes, the way his mouth moved as his breath became heavier was driving you crazy - you could feel wetness between your legs and a sudden need for him deep within you. You loved watching him moan. He pulled you closer, your face now inches away from his cock as you realised what he wanted. Nervously, you placed your mouth over the tip, and slowly started to move him further down into your mouth. You quickly found a rhythm, and began to bob your head up and down.

"Suck.. just a little.. please.." he gasped as your mouth took him. You complied and the throbbing between your legs intensified as his moans became almost primal.

"Shit... Oh... Slow down, Jesus..." Slowing down was NOT part of your plan. You wanted to taste him. Your mouth bobbing up and down quicker. "You need to stop... Fuck... Y/n.. aahh..." You felt his balls tighten as he shot deep into your throat, unable to hold back any longer. You swallowed down what you could, but the force of it made some leak down your chin. Your fingers swiped it off your face and you licked it off slowly.

"That was amazing... You taste good!" You moved your body up to kiss him, making him taste himself in the process.

"You're so beautiful y/n.. you know that?" You smiled, his compliment gave you goosebumps, made your heart soar. For years you'd wanted this, and now it was happening.. the night before he left the city, but still...

"I can feel this throbbing feeling down there... Wanna help me take care of it?" You pushed him down onto the bed and lay next to him, bringing his hand between your legs. He moaned softly feeling the warm dampness between them. You opened your legs and he leaned up slightly, exploring your body. Finding your folds with his fingers, he opened them, running a finger from the bottom to the top, noticing how you gasped when he reached a small bundle of skin near the top. You grabbed his hand and moved it down to collect some of the moisture leaking out of you, before bringing it back up to circle the little nub slowly. Your body started to writhe, your moans getting a little louder as he started to pleasure you, and your hand moved away allowing him to continue.

"That feels good.. don't stop..." He planted small kisses along your shoulder, gasping as he felt your hand curl around his semi-hard shaft again. "Feels so good... Oh god... Cillian...." You felt him shift down the bed, fingers suddenly away from you. You looked down to see him lay between your thighs, placing small kisses on the insides of them, moving closer to your core.

"What are you - oh!!" His tongue quickly found your clit again, running circles over it as a finger teased your hole slowly. You tensed in anticipation.

"Baby relax..." He continued on your clit and slowly eased a finger inside you. "Fuck you feel good... So fucking tight..." He could've come again just from this, but he held back. You threw your head back as your orgasm started to build. This was better than any orgasm you'd ever given yourself, his tongue working magic over you. You suddenly felt a second finger enter you, but you couldn't tense up, your body was in a state of its own now.

"Cill... Don't stop, I'm gonna cum.. please..." You sat up as the force of your orgasm swamped you. Your hips riding against his mouth as you came over him. You had to pull his tongue away before you alerted the neighbours to what was happening, but his fingers remained inside you, gently pumping away.

"I can feel you clenching me.. fuck that was incredible y/n.." he pulled his fingers away, and moved his body on top of yours.

"Do you have a condom?" He looked into your eyes hoping to God that you did, but knowing it was highly unlikely..

"No, but I've been on the pill for a while now.. and we're virgins, so we know we're both clean. Go for it..."

"You sure you wanna do this?"

"I've never wanted anything more in my life." He lined himself up against your entrance and pushed his way in slowly. Breathing hard, trying to control himself - he didn't wanna end this too soon. You both looked down to watch as his cock slowly began to disappear inside you. He stopped when he felt a barrier, he couldn't go any further.

"This is gonna sting... But it won't last long.. I'm right here okay?" He whispered in your ear gently. Despite his inexperience, he'd heard his friends talking about sex enough to know this part would be uncomfortable for you. You kissed his lips, and brought a hand down to rub your clit softly, relaxing you. "Jesus woman... That's one way to relax huh?" You smiled and brought your legs over his waist, urging him. He pulled back a little, and with a kiss to your lips he thrust inside, groaning deeply from the feeling of being buried in you, breaking the seal. You cried out, it did sting... And you felt tears in your eyes. Cillian paused, allowing you time to adjust, and softly kissed your cheeks. The pain subsiding now, you felt so full and warm.

"You can move.. go slow.." he began to ease in and out slowly, gritting his teeth at the glorious friction surrounding his cock, willing himself to hold on from exploding in you.

"You feel amazing... Fuck y/n... Oh god..." He picked up the pace, hips grinding into yours. You raised your hips to meet his thrusts, and the pleasure coursing through you took your breath away. He adjusted his angle slightly, and pushed in, when the amount of pleasure you felt from that thrust caused you to cry his name.

"I don't know what you did, but do it again... Right there!!" He moved again to find that spot that clearly drove you wild, finding it quickly and aiming for it with every thrust into you. His hands were either side of your head, gripping onto the bed sheets as he started to pound into you relentlessly. Your back was arching again, this feeling was so new, but so fucking good..

"I think... Oh god Cillian I think I'm gonna cum again..." Neither of you were expecting this, you had no idea a woman could orgasm from sex alone.. it washed over you quickly, your core on fire as he continued to fuck you.

"Baby... I can't hold it..." You lifted his face up from your neck, you wanted to watch his face when he came. His eyes scrunched closed, mouth falling open silently as he came hard and deep inside you. Your orgasm extended into bliss as you watched him, and heard his primal groan as he finished spurting, you could feel it lining your insides.

You held him as he rested his lips against the crook of your neck, both of you panting against each other.

"Fuck that was good..." He pulled out of you, coming to rest next to you on the bed. You leaned into him, his arm pulling you close.

"Come with me?" He lifted your face up to meet his, kissing your lips softly.

"You know I can't.. my Dad.."

"I'll talk to your Dad - he loves me more than you." You punched his arm playfully. Your Dad did think very highly of Cillian, that's for sure. He wouldn't if he knew what Cillian had just done with his only daughter though! "You don't start uni for a few months, I'll be gone for a couple of weeks and I don't think I can wait that long to do this again..."

"You want to do this again?" You were sat up now, stunned at what you just heard.

"I wanna do that to you every single day for the rest of our lives y/n.. can't do that if I'm in Dublin and you're still here, now can I?" You were in shock.. what was he saying?

"You mean, you want me? To be your girl?"

"Y/n, you've always been my girl - just never made it official did we? Be mine, yeah?"

"I've always been yours, about time you noticed." You brought him close to kiss him again, your whole future playing out in both your minds, and you couldn't wait to get started on it.

[outerbankswriting]

Could it Be? Chapter 13 (JJ x Reader)

JJ x Reader

CH.1 - CH.2 - CH.3 - CH.4 - CH.5 - CH.6 - CH.7 - CH.8 - CH.9 - CH.10 - CH.11 - CH.12

Description: She has a crush on JJ, but he has always seen her as another one of the “dudes”, or  at least that’s what she thinks so she just doesn’t even try anymore, until things start to shift between the two of them. (A/N: I’M NOT GOOD AT DESCRIPTIONS BUT THESE IS JUST WHAT I WOULD LOVE TO HAPPEN IN OUTER BANKS WITH JJ)

Warnings: drinking???

CHAPTER 13

You placed the empty can of beer on the table and noticed JJ’s glare set on you as you reached for your fourth drink.

“Can I help you with something?” You spat at him before drunkenly smirking at the blonde.

“I see you’re thirsty.” He grinned as he helped you open the bottle.

“I just want to loosen up and have some fun.” You replied, pouring yourself some tequila and mixing it with a soda.

“Fun means danger when it comes to you,” He winked and you rolled your eyes at him.

“That was one time.”

“Whatever,” he went on, “I’m not letting you get shit-wasted tonight.”

“Says the one who’s already had six beers,”

“I can handle my alcohol, unlike you.”

You teasingly raised your eyebrow at him as your eyes lit up with a mischievous idea, JJ immediately shaking his head at you but letting out an equally mischievous smile.

“Here,” you handed him a shot of tequila and poured one for yourself as well, “I’ll show you I can handle it.”

“I would like to see.”

You raised your tequila shots to each other before gulping down the strong alcohol, your throat burning as the liquid went down.

Time went by and Sarah and John B where nowhere to be found, but you and JJ were having too much fun drinking and talking about nonsense to notice the couple had gone to John B’s bedroom to do stuff you had no business knowing about.

You wrapped your arms around JJ’s neck and playfully slow danced with him, your legs were struggling to move correctly as the alcohol was taking over your system but JJ’s arms wrapped around your waist helped you remain steady.  

Both your faces were flustered form the alcohol and the heat from dancing around, the two of you were clearly drunk but not wasted thanks to JJ taking care of your drinking and not allowing you to mix your drinks.

You looked around the room to see if Sarah and John B were around, and when you didn’t see them anywhere near, you took the opportunity to press a quick kiss to JJ’s lips. He stared at your eyes in a loving and caring way as you burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” He asked.

“I just can’t believe we’re.. you know..” You struggled to find the words as you didn’t know what exactly was going on between you and JJ.

JJ’s eyes kept fixed on your, waiting patiently for you to complete your sentence but as he realised you were nowhere near to forming the words, he decided to help you.

“Dating?” He whispered and your eyes widened.

“So we are?” You muttered, a smile forming on your face.

“I mean,” he shrugged and bit his bottom lip, “if you want to, of course.”

You couldn’t help but smile wider at him, you knew JJ wasn’t one to easily express his feelings, let alone actually get involved in a relationship so this was a pretty big deal for the both of you, especially since this was all happening too fast yet it felt as if the two of you had waited ages for this to come true.

“I’ll have to think about it.” You bit the inside of your cheek, noticing JJ’s grip tighten and his eyebrows raise in confusion.

“Yeah, sure, I mean,” he stuttered and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing again, his confusion growing stronger.

“Of course I want to, you idiot.” You cupped his face and sensed him relax on your touch.

The two of you shared a slow and sweet kiss, his movements carefully synching with yours as he pulled you in closer. You opened your mouth to let him explore it as the kiss became more passionate and hungrier, you placed your hands on the nape of his neck and tugged at his hair, gaining a soft moan from him.

“I think we should go home.” You said, your lips inches apart.

“I think I agree.”

Neither of you bothered on letting your friends know you were leaving as they were also busy doing their thing. You took JJ’s hand and walked side by side to your place, it was a long walk but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

As you arrived to your house, the two of you hurried upstairs to your room, the tension and urgency filling the air but neither of you daring to make a move.

You sat down on your bed as JJ locked the door even though only the two of you were home. You bit the bottom of your lip as you stared at him. His grey tank top loose enough to show his toned abs and his strong arms making your head spin with unholy thoughts about them.

He turned to face you and you felt your cheeks heat up. No matter how long the two of you had known each other or how close you’d gotten to each other, he never failed to make you get all flustered and nervous.

JJ smirked as soon as he saw the rose tint on your cheeks and your eyes scanning all his body. He slowly walked over to you, your heartbeat speeding up by every step he was taking. The grin on his face kept growing wider as he noticed the effect he was causing on you, enjoying every second of it.

Once he was completely standing in front of you, you looked up at his face and matched your grin with his. Your face was exactly in front of his abdomen, and a bit too close to his lower area, making his heartbeat speed up as well.

Your confidence and urgency to have him all for yourself made you slowly and carefully run your fingers through his abdomen and you tugged at his shirt to signal him to take it off. He didn’t think twice before the grey tank top hit the floor and his upper body was bare as your eyes kept processing every inch of him.

Your hands traced his toned stomach and you felt his body twitch at your touch. You smirked to yourself, feeling confident at the effect you were causing on him. Your hand softly made its way lower and you noticed his chest rise up and down quicker as you intentionally but slightly rubbed your palm on his growing bulge, pretending as if it was an accident.

You then played with the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down, leaving him on his trousers which you also teasingly played with the waistband of them and then pushed him further away from you, making him raise an eyebrow at you in confusion. You stood up in front of him and placed a hard but quick kiss on his lips before turning around him.

“Sit down,” you demanded, surprised by your sudden urge of dominance.

JJ smirked at you and took your place on the bed, softly wrapping his hands on your waist as you stood in front of him, letting him stare at you while you took your own shirt off, revealing the top of your red bikini.

Your shorts joined your shirt on the ground, leaving you with your red bikini top and bottom which matched the color of JJ’s cheeks. You sat on his lap, facing him as you wrapped your legs around his waist and felt his bulge rub against your entrance, which was still covered by the bottom of your bikini.

“Y/N,” JJ whispered once you started moving your hips against him.

“Mhm,” was all you could bring yourself to say as the friction between the two of you made a tingling sensation intensify between your legs.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

You stared at his blue eyes and felt his thumbs stroke your hips. He was genuinely concerned about this, especially after knowing about your past with Rafe and sex.

But this time you felt different. You were sure of JJ and you didn’t want to do this with anyone else but him. You trusted him and you loved him, even if you hadn’t verbally expressed it to him. You’d never felt as confident and safe with anyone else as you do now with JJ. You knew you wanted this and you knew you wouldn’t regret nor have second thoughts about this.

You gently rubbed his cheeks as you leaned forward to his face, softly placing a loving kiss on his lips.

“I’ve never been more sure JJ.” You whispered against his lips as you felt his hands press tighter on your hips.

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A/N: we-

alright so I finally got the time to write and post ch.13!! hope you like it and PLS DO TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS!! 

I would also love to know if you guys want me to write the whole scenario *coughs* smut *coughs* or simply leave it like that and just write about them after it’s done and stuff... but well it’s all up to you since I know some of u are not comfortable reading smut.

I think I’m also going to start a new taglist since idk if some of you are still reading this story and I keep getting messages about new people wanting to be added on the taglist so I think next chapter will have a completely new taglist so pls do let me know if u wanna be added! 

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taglist: @babygirlizz​ - @atabigail - @poguesrforlife​ - @behappyitsemmalie​ - @jane-dough - @yeeedolan - @dontjinx-it - @sofiaconlaz - @fangirlwithme​ - @outermaybank - @hueycat2004 - @nope-thanks - @weasleyswizarding-wheezes - @haleswale - @hungoverhellhound - @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch - @asapkyndall - @hailiemarieeee - @emmasjulixn - @spideyyeet - @rosenbug - @cassidyiscool  - @harrysbbby - @thatshiscigar  - @kiarascarreras - @uhuh-listenboy - @normatural - @goldenariana - @heyyimlaynna - @lukvv - @irontoadllamaclam - @allisjustok - @saturno007 - @pluckypete - @pennepasta82 - @howdyherron - @perfektionsmakel - @dylanpain - @tulzu - @voidsxnsets - @shadesofbarryallen - @rimbougrine - @dolanfivsosxox - @allisjustok - @stell-rosie - @spoopysidemen​ - @optimisticherolightpanda - @dolansbeanies - @arsejungle - @missenchanted27 - @ctrlyouthmendes  - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @hazelgirl355 - @sehunniehaechannie - @sweetwaterprincess - @ues-swiftie - @deadsunflower01 - @ghostlywombatnickelpeanut - @moadvx - @peachy-ness - @supersouthy - @howdyherron - @retro-mayfield - @cyxbv - @ydoesthesunsetbaby - @bellageorge03 - @thelittletank - @emmalvei-blog - @eaturveggiesbabe - @katiepego - @books-crushed-my-soul - @iamaunicorn4704 - @mrmaybaby - @sloanology - @wildest-dream- - @maplelattes22 - @disaster-rose - @5am-cigarette - @ravenclawmarvel - @peterbrokenparker - @pickeringshawnn - @thatshiscigar - @lovelydina - @sspidermanss - @lollypop-lam - @drunkwallows - @a-wari - @ajxlawley - @briiiimiranda - @oceantostars - @jordangdelacruz - @brightnss - @classywaves - @ironbuckley - @cilorawr - @the-beauty-queenn - @mileven-reddie- @blueegansey - @livingforbarnes - @angelnoirr - @fashionlive15 - @harrysbbby - @eb15​ - @lcil123 - @drunkwallows - @uhuh-listenboy - @caringparker - @tangledinsparkles - @wildflower-lrh - @lollypop-lam - @mxrvelistic - @jeffsbarbershop - @bananasundae13 - @llunarist - @nick-awwstin - @aftertaxte - @timotaychalabae - @we-are-all-lovely - @k-k0129 - @wwylmlive - @sunshinemadds - @hawkeyetrained - @cremextart - @sunflowerwhoever - @possiamo-andare​ - @mayakblack - @poguelifeee - @moon-bcw - @love-bean - @turtlee-says-rawr - @heydemonsitsyagirlgrace - @marauderskeeper  - @anescapefromtheworld  - @imsad05 

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (04b)

word count; 7050

summary; you wait hours for news on the young boy, and when the results are finally in, it looks like a breakthrough with thomas might be on the horizon.

notes; this is the second half of part four since it got so long, hope you guys enjoy!

warnings; reference to injury.

Trying to make yourself a little calmer, and distract yourself from how you were feeling, you peeled the gloves from your hands, dropping them in the nearest trash can and searching to find some toilets. The mirror did not offer you a reflection you were proud to see, tear-stained cheeks that cut through sweat-caked dust in tracks, messy hair and red eyes; like picturesque misery. 

There was blood on the clean fabric of your button-up shirt, and your medical bag held little that would be able to help, but you were sure you could at least make a start. Holding your hand under the dispenser for soap, the soft humming made by the machine as it deposited a small pile of foam into your hand was enough to break the rigid silence, and you let out a slow breath. Logically, you knew it wasn’t your fault that he was injured, the boy was almost an adult, he was old enough to make his own decisions, and yet you’d let yourself become attached, you’d tried to offer him advice that had backfired, and so you couldn't help but feel partly responsible. 

The water ran pink as your skin was cleared, before shaky fingers were coming up to undo the buttons along your top. The long-sleeve top worn underneath wasn’t the warmest of items, but it was better than sitting in a blood-soaked shirt, and so you folded the crisp white uniform up carefully, tucking it into your bag and letting out a sigh. With hands cupped under the cold water tap, you let your palms fill, before leaning over the sink and splashing your face carefully with the water, rubbing away the grime and salt present on your skin until it felt fresh and clean once again. 

Your eyes were still lined with red and your throat was still raw, but both of those would begin to fade as you finally began to get a hold of yourself once again. Your head was hurting, both inside and outside, the tight ponytail your hair was pulled up into made your scalp ache as you released it, and you rubbed your fingers gently through the strands to try and soothe that pain, making a note to find some water for your oncoming headache soon. 

Finally, it was enough, hair flailing loose around your shoulders once again and skin clean, at least feeling a little more comfortable than you had, and as you patted down the pockets of your bag, you found your phone again, grateful that Newt must’ve tucked it in there when he’d gone back to the van for you, because you were sure you’d left it on the dash. There was a text from Newt, just having arrived back at the station, saying that he'd spoken to Vince and everything was cleared up, while Brenda had also left a text saying she was hoping that both you and the boy were okay. 

A voice cleared in front of you, snapping your attention away from where you were trying to think of how to reply, clicking your phone off and looking away to find the source of the disturbance. Allison was standing before you, a gown on her body and a scrub cap on her head, but she’d shed the mask and gloves, for now, smiling a little as she began to undo the ties behind her back and neck. 

“I came to give you a little update about what’s going on.”

“Already? It’s only been, what, forty minutes?” Panic flared up inside of you once again at the speed at which she was emerging, but the soft smile and a chuckle she gave to you was reassurance enough. 

“Don’t worry, the kid is doing alright. Doctor Hale is great at his job, and it’s all going smoothly.” You rubbed your hands down along your pants, clearing sweaty palms and standing up to be the same height as her. “He’ll be going into the ICU after this, so why don’t you walk with me now and I’ll take you up to that waiting room, it's a little more comfortable and private than the corridors.”

“He’s going to be alright, then?”

“He’s going to be just fine.” She confirmed, waiting a second for you to grab your bag and swing it onto a shoulder, before she was setting off through the halls again, guiding you as she made her way towards the elevator. “He lost a fair amount of blood, but we’ve got him on some bags now, and his levels are steadying again, he’s starting to get some colour back, so we’re happy with that process, and his heartbeat is stronger.”

You watched as she pressed the button to signal the machine, silver doors reflecting back at you, and you felt positively exhausted as you slumped upon hearing the good news, tensions and adrenaline finally being able to slip away. “What about his legs?”

“Well, we won’t know much about any of it until he wakes up, and we can test his response to stimulus when the drugs in his system wear off and we can replace the anaesthetic with general medication, but the shattered leg has been set and is due to be wrapped in a cast, it’s all we can do, but it isn’t looking the best on the outcome.”

You winced, knowing there was nothing more you could have done, but you still hated to know what the repercussions might be. The elevator ride was silent, as was the walk to the waiting room, and yet none of it was uncomfortable, she was simply a companion at your side who had brought you a little peace, and when you were of a more stable and clear mindset next time, you’d thank her properly for being so kind to you, and make a better effort to get to know the nurses here, but right now, you didn’t have the right headspace for anything other than taking it ten minutes at a time. 

“There’s not much more we can do now, it’s all about recovery, really. You did some great work out there, we’ve cleaned and applied new stitches to his wounds, I did it myself, and I promise they won’t burst any time soon.” You nodded your head, trying to absorb all the information that you could, but your mind was spinning, only focusing on the fact that he was going to be okay. “We’ll keep him in the hospital for a while, and check on him, his head has been patched up, luckily it was a crack and it hadn't splintered, so we’re happy with that.”

“When he comes out, will I be able to see him?”

“Yes, you can.” She turned to smile at you now, holding the doors open to a much nicer, and empty waiting room, you being the only person here, nobody flying past busily, phones ringing and conversations being had, it was calm and serene, and exactly what you needed. “Doctor Hale is going to come and talk to you more comprehensively himself while they get him all set up, and it shouldn’t take too long for the anaesthetic to wear off. As soon as he wakes up, we can get him started on some real painkillers that won’t knock him out.”

“Excellent.” You sighed, brushing yourself off for invisible dirt a story anxiety took over, before looking back to her. “Thank you so much, I can’t even tell you how much it all means to me.”

“It’s no trouble, truly.” She placed a comforting hand on your arm, squeezing lightly. “You’re one of our own. Derek, uh, Doctor Hale, he feels like he really owes the fire department, so he would do pretty much anything for you all. House ‘21 was one of the firehouses involved in saving his family when there was a house fire. He has a big family, and he almost lost them a few years ago, this is the least he can do, he feels.”

You had no idea, you’d never been anywhere long enough to reap the seeds of good acts so far down the line, but you felt proud just to be able to associate yourself with the team, to be a member of Firehouse ‘21, even if you hadn't been there for that event. They were a great team, a wonderful group of people, and you were proud to be associated with them. You weren’t sure how long it would last, but for the first time in a long time, your first thought wasn’t the next immediate escape route. 

“I’m going to head back in there, now. It shouldn't be much longer.”

You nodded, watching as she walked away, and leaving you alone in the peacefulness of the waiting room. There was a table, stacked up with magazines and a water machine in the corner, chilled and humming slowly, and you made your way over towards that firstly. Taking one of the flimsy little cups, you held it under the nozzle, pushing on the button of the cold water, and watching as it filled up, the temperature making your fingers cool as it moved toward the top. 

Taking it back over to one row of chairs, they were much more comfortable than the others, the hard plastic being replaced for soft cushioning, warm and inviting, and you slumped down into it. Shuffling through your bag, you were grateful to find the half-used try of painkillers you'd hidden in there for personal use, thanking a past version of yourself for thinking ahead, and popping two of the small tablets out, placed on your tongue and reaching for the cup. Several swigs of the water, until the cup was empty, washing them down and enjoying the cool feeling washing along your throat and soothing the burn, and you felt a little more refreshed immediately. 

This time, as you filled it up, you took a moment to observe the room you were in. A small, ornamental water fountain sat on one of the counters, soft sounds of trickling water as you neared it, and it was relaxing just to be around, stacks of little pebbles to create a water fountain, and blue lights to make the pool of water seem clearer, you lips flicking up at the sides. There was a radio, it wasn’t turned on and you didn’t intend to do so, but you admired its place here, the room filled with things all around so that there was something to calm and relax every type of person, no matter what their comfort was, and as you settled back down into the seats, you found you weren't quite so stressed anymore. 

Producing your phone from your pocket once again, you sipped at your water, the headache you had finally beginning to recede, and you replied to Brenda, a thumb swiping rapidly across the screen as you thanked her for her concern, and gave her an update that he was due out of surgery any time now. You replied to Newt too, once again thanking him profusely, as yet another batch of unrelated guilt began to make itself known, surfacing as you realised you’d just abandoned your partner to do all the work. 

Neither of them replied, both messages being left on ‘read’, and you simply hoped that they were having fun with the team, getting to relax and destress after a long day, and they weren’t torturing themselves in the same way that you were. 

The elevator chimed, not too far away, the other end of the corridor, and you paused. Following it, there was the sound of wheels, moving along the corridor, squeaking a little as a bed rattled, before fading away, and your heart leapt in your chest as you resisted the urge to stand up and look out, staying sat where you were. Your suspicions were confirmed, however, when the doors opened up, the doctor who you’d seen only a couple of hours ago appearing once again, and you pushed yourself up to your feet as fast as you could, meeting the doctor, who looked a little frazzled and worn out, but optimistic nonetheless. 

“Doctor Hale, hi.” 

He smiled a little, ducking his head. “You can call me Derek. I’m not your doctor.” Your cheeks heated a little bit, mumbling his name as you grew used to the feel of it in your mouth, and he cleared his throat. “So, you ready for that update?”

“Absolutely.” You confirmed, and he turned his body, placing a hand on your lower back and guiding you back towards the doors. 

“How about I tell you on the way to the coffee machine, because I’m desperate for a double espresso, three times over.” You grinned, laughing lightly as you agreed, just the thought of such a drink making your mouth water, and you grabbed at your bag, swinging it onto one arm and letting it dangle as you followed behind him. He held the door open for you, guiding you through the halls, and you followed after him, falling into a comfortable pace beside one another. “First of all, do you happen to know his name? We can’t get anything up on file, and we can’t put him on medications until we know if he has allergies.”

“All I know is that he’s called Aaron, I think. He’s been here before, though, should be on file. I brought him in a couple of weeks ago for the injuries on his stomach.”

The man beside you nodded, taking the pen from his pocket and writing down the name on the back of his hand. “Alright, well, I’m pretty optimistic about how Aaron is doing. He’s all set up in an ICU room now, and as soon as he starts to come around, we can let you in to visit him. While you’re in there, we need you to try and get some contact details, his parents, anything like that, so we can try and get him on file, if we can’t find him in the system, but we have a lot of Aarons’.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“His leg is now in a cast, we set it as best we could, but there was more damage along his spine, so I’m not overly optimistic about that. I don’t know how bad the paralysis will be, but there’s definitely going to be some loss of movement there, he won’t make a full recovery, not from a fall like that with his injuries.” It wasn’t a surprise, you had been anticipating the worst, and so far, everything beyond being told he didn’t make it was just a blessing. Stopping before the coffee machine beside a nurses desk, the screen flashed to life as he swiped his card through the holder, greeting him with his ID on screen, and he began to program a selection of shots and syrups into the blend. “What are you having?”

“Oh, I don’t have a-”

“My treat, let me buy you a coffee. I get a doctor discount on it anyway.” You couldn't resist the charming smile he gave you, shrugging a little and laughing under your breath. “Alright, Derek, surprise me. I’m not that fussy.”

“I take that as a challenge.” He confirmed, setting to work on making your brew, and as the machine hummed to life, he returned to the topic of your patient. “We pumped his stomach, we ran a few tests and flushed his system out. You might not like me too much when I tell you this, but with the contents of his stomach and the harm he got into as a minor, with nobody here to explain it, I have contacted the police and child authorities.”

“I don’t blame you, Doc. I really don’t. All I want for this kid is the best in life, I encouraged him to get out of that whole gang-lifestyle, I feel responsible for him even being here, and I-” You cut yourself off as you realised you were rambling, your lips pursing shut, and the coffee maker beside you beeped. He grinned, picking up the second coffee and handing it over to you, but only after pressing a plastic lid onto the top of the coffee cup. Bringing it up to your nose, the sweet smell of delicate spices and warm coffee filled your nose, and you hummed happily at the delicious blend. “Thank you.”

“Just so you know, you saved that kid’s life. You brought him here and he’s safe, you’ve done the best you can, and you did great.” You sighed, blowing at the steam on your coffee and taking a moment, a few deep breaths, settling yourself in the moment. “When he wakes up and starts to surface, we’ll let you know. If you give me your details, I’ll keep you updated on how he does.”

“Sounds like you’re asking me for my number there, Doctor Hale?”

“I thought I told you to call me Derek.” He beamed, both of you knowing it was only a joke, before he was holding the pen from the pocket of his coat out for you and grabbing a piece of paper from the nurses stand. Placing down your coffee, you wrote down your name and number, handing it back over to him, and he looked at it for a moment, repeating your name, before putting it into his pocket. “You can head on back to the waiting room, and I’ll come and get you in a little while when he’s awake, and we’ve got him on something to keep the pain off.”

The device on his belt beeped, calling him away to another case, and he was leaving, a wave on his fingers as he picked up his coffee, and you were left to try and navigate your way back to the waiting room alone. 

There were signs up along the walls, but every turn you took felt more confusing, muted coloured walls and total silence feeling more like your new norm as you navigate the maze of pathways, letting out a relieved sigh as you finally caught sight of the same doors you’d come through earlier. There was movement behind them, your heart sinking a little as you realised the peaceful loneliness you had was broken, but you knew other people would be here to visit their families. 

Your bag would still be laying on the floor, where you’d left it before leaving to find coffee, and as you made you way back along, the people behind the glass became a little clearer. Blond hair, brown hair, strawberry and jet black. Pushing the door open, your jaw dropped a little as you looked across the group, all eyes turning to face you, and your heart raced in your chest. 

“What are you guys doing here?”

“We’re pausing movie night!” Chuck was almost yelling, his enthusiasm getting the better of him, and several members of the team shushed him, while others snickered. “Sorry. We’re pausing movie night.”

“I see that, but, uh, why?”

A few looks were shared among the team, and Newt sighed, standing to his feet from where he’d been lounging in your chair. “Because we’re your team, and we care about you. You’re here for the kid, and we’re here for you.”

He took your coffee from your hands, sniffling it, and winking a little before raising it up to take a sip. His eyes widened a little, before he was gulping down another mouthful, and you snatched it back with a protesting noise.

“That’s good coffee. Where can I get one of those?”

“Doctors only.” You mumbled, a sweet smile on your lips as you took a sip, and he stared at you for a second. 

“Are you telling me you made a friend other than me? You really are getting comfortable here.”

You shook your head, pressing it back into his hands after another mouthful of coffee, gifting it to him. Brenda was holding her arms out to you, a sweet smile on her face as you paused for only a second, before falling into her arms and letting her wrap you up tightly. The moment you squeezed her back, there was another body wrapping around you, making the pair of you giggle as Chuck joined the hug, and you whined at the overwhelming heat that was encasing you when Newt joined in too. 

Elbowing yourself free, you wriggled out, popping free and finding the rest of the team still wearing sweet smiles, all standing around and waiting patiently. “Thanks for coming, you guys, it really means a lot to me.”

Settling down with the company of your team, Newt slumped beside you, a backpack of his own on the floor, and he picked it up, roping it down on your lap, and the weight of it winded you a little. 

“What was that for?”

“I brought you the clothes from your locker.” You raised a single brow, opening the bag and finding your hoodie and leggings inside, as well as your more comfortable trainers than the ones you wore to work, a little sigh leaving you. “Figured you’d want to be comfy, and you smell a little bit musty and bloody.”

Lifting the edge of your top to your nose, you took a whiff, faint traces being picked up, nothing overwhelming, but it certainly was present. Everybody else had changed their clothes as they left their kit at work, or went home to shower, but no matter what, you appreciated it all. 

“So, you gonna’ give us a little update on the kid?”

“Oh, yeah.” You wiped at your nose, feeling yourself get a little emotions, before pulling one leg up under yourself and turning to face him. “So, he’s doing alright. They’re worried about his legs, and they pumped his stomach, but they’re confident about his recovery and they’ve put a cast on his leg. He’s out of surgery now, they’re waiting for him to wake up.”

“What about his parents? They got in touch with them, right?”

“They haven’t got any information on him yet.” You sighed, rubbing at your forehead. “They want me to go in and ask him to give up his information as soon as he wakes up.”

“Well, look alive, because here comes a white coat with determination. A good looking one at that, dark hair, tall, I would be all over that if-” 

“Newt!” You hissed, the door opening, and he laughed himself into silence as he brought the coffee to his lips. Standing up, you gave him the bag back, making sure to drop it into his lap with equal the force he’d dropped onto yours, and he spluttered a little, glaring at you and kicking his leg out at you as you walked to meet the doctor. “He’s awake?”

“Yes, he is.” Derek spun on his heel, the two of you walking away towards the main doors, and you turned over your shoulder to scowl at your partner for the kick, a sugary-sweet and sly grin on his lips as you scoffed. “A lot of your friends have shown up, huh?”

“They’re my team, they came to support me.”

“Hey, I think it’s sweet.” He shrugged, guiding you along the halls. “So, he’s in a little pain, nothing awful yet as he’s still waking up, so he’s a sort of woozy. Focus on asking him his last name, if we can pull up his account we can see his allergies and get him some meds, but if he doesn't want to give it up, we need to know about the medicines.”

“What do I tell him when he starts asking questions?”

“We’re going to test his reflexes as soon as we get his medicine sorted but before it kicks in, though they may not be fully comprehensive on the total movement and reflex he can get back.” He stopped outside of the door, and peering in through the glass, you could see the young boy. The hair from the top of his head was shaved away, around the sides too, black locks were gone and bandaging wrapping his head. He was clad in a gown, and the blankets were tucked up around his body, staring up at the rod as he frowned, looking entirely displaced. “Press the button on the side of his bed when you’re ready for us to come in, I’ll wait at the nurses’ station.”

“Thanks, Derek.”

He dipped his head in a nod, taking a step back, and you entered the room. He lifted his head slowly, confusion on his features for a second as you clicked the door shut, before he was huffing again. 

“Hey, kiddo, how you feelin’?”

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, words a little slurred, and you took a seat beside his bed, pulling the chair over, and his head rolled from one side to the other, cheek pressing to the pillow to look at you, but his gaze was unfocused. “My arm is itchy.”

“That’s just your drip line for meds, you’ll be fine.” He made a shocked face, as though you’d reveal the secrets of the universe to him, before his face was screwing up again.

“I hurt a bit too. Everywhere.”

“I know, and we can get you some meds, alright?” He nodded his head, silence falling around you both again, and he was using one hand to scratch at the bedding, toying with the loose thread in the beige blanket, and sighed. “You gonna’ tell me your last name, so we can get you registered and checked in on the system?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll call my foster parents.” Your heart stopped for a moment in your chest, and just when you thought it couldn't get any worse for him, you found out the poor kid was in the system, no wonder he’d turned to family wherever he could get it. “I don’t want them to know.”

“Don’t you think they’re worried? You’re going to be here for a while.”

“They’ll be disappointed in me.” He whispered, and you reached out, taking the young boy’s hand in your own, and squeezing lightly. “They’ll bring my little sister, she thinks I’m brave and strong.”

“And she’ll still think that!” He huffed, rolling his eye sin denial and tuning to stare back up at the ceiling. “I get how it feels to not want to let someone down, and to feel alone. I have moved between so many firehouses to find my home, and I’m still looking. I have, like, no friends outside of work.”

“What about your blond friend?”

“He’s a work friend, that doesn't count.” You teased, and he turned to look at you again.

“Do you hang out outside of work?” You paused, thinking on the people who were filling the waiting room right now, simply to support you, and you wondered if that counted, but the boy seemed to be going on anyway; “See, outside friends.”

“Alright, smart ass, the point is that I understand how you feel, and you should let me call your parents, so that you can have people who love you here with you. What do you say?” He was quiet, the moment dragging on, and as the cogs in the clock ticked loudly, the ‘second’ hand moving around, and as the third minute of silence passed you by, you gave up on any hope, You wondered if he’d fallen asleep, his eyes having slipped shut, and you squeezed his hand a little, his hand squeezing back after a few moments, signalling he was awake. 

“Edge.”

“Huh?” You perked up a little, your elbow having been resting on the bed to support your head on your fist, before you were moving to look up at him. 

“My name is Aaron Edge. I’m already in the system, I had asthma as a kid.” You cheered a little, reaching around for the handle instantly and pressing the button for the nurse’s desk. 

“I’m so proud of you, kiddo.” The door opened a second later, a short red-head nurse escorting Doctor Hale, his brows raising a little as they came in, and you gave him a subtle nod. “This is Aaron Edge, and he’d love some painkillers now.”

“We’ll get that sorted out. This is nurse Martin, she’ll be looking after you, Mr Edge.” She left the room a second later, heading away to get it sorted out, and the doctor took a step closer to the bed. “How are you feeling, big guy? You gave us a scare there, but you're brave, and I know you’re going to be just fine.”

“I have a headache, and I feel itchy. Is that just my nerves?”

He tried to push himself up a little in the bed, his arms giving way under the pressure, and you moved, helping him sit up so you could position his pillows behind him to help him sit up. “Well, actually, that’s the beginning of the withdrawal. It’s not going to be great, but you’re young. We can get you in a great rehab program, and whatever you were on we can get you off. You’re young, you still have prospects ahead of you. It’ll be a tough road, you think you can do it?”

His hand tightened around yours once again, and he turned, vulnerability written on his face. You gave him a nod, and he stared at you for a second longer, before returning to give those same gestures to the doctor. 

“Now, I just need to run a final test, alright?” Producing the pen from his pocket, he lifted up the blanket to reveal both of the boy’s feet, and held the end to the pen, never popping the button to reveal the inked tip. “Relax your foot for me.”

He did so and he dragged the tip of the pen up along the sensitive underfoot, everything still for a second, before his toes twitched, and you let out a little cheer, the boy in the bed jumping in shock. “What?”

“You still have movement in that foot?”

“Did I not before?” He panicked, sitting up further to peer down at his legs, and it seemed that in his drowsy state, he was only just becoming aware of the cast wrapped around his leg. “What about the other one?”

The cast sealed over most of his foot, but Derek reached down with the pen, dragging it along the space under his toes, and there was no movement. He did it again, still no reaction, and you nibbled on your lower lip. “Tell me when you feel something?”

Moving the blanket from his body, his leg was exposed, the cast ending just below his knee. He poked at the knee cap, then a rough inch further up, moving in inch segments as you waited, before his leg finally flinched just after the pen pressed over his mid-thigh. 

“Well, we can get you into some physical therapy, and see how the healing of your leg goes, and what happens after that.”

Tucking the pen back away, the red-headed nurse entered the room once again, a needle and a small glass jar in her hand, and she was ready to add some medicine to the bag for him. “I’ve called your family, and they’re on their way. I’ve got some medicine for you now.” You squeezed his hand again lightly, letting go as the nurse moved to start setting him up a new line for his medicine, and Derek was busy filling out details on the chart that sat at the end of his bed. 

“I’m going to go back to my team now, alright?” The kid turned to look at you, nodding his head slowly. “You keep your promise this time, alright? I believe in you, do it for your little sister. Be better.”

“Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” 

You ran your hand over his cheek, giving him a gentle smile. As the medicine began to kick in, nurse Martin began to talk to Aaron about his family, and what had been said on the phone, and for the third time tonight, you were navigating the ICU wing halls. Stepping back into the waiting room, all eyes turned to you again, brows raising, and you nodded, shoulders slumping in relief. 

“He’s going to be okay, and his family is on the way.”

A chorus of cheers took up around the room, and you nodded your head watching as they all began to get to their feet, coming over to offer their congratulations and comforts about how worried you’d been, and how much better you must be feeling, which was completely true. 

Newt cupped your face, pressing a large and wet kiss to your forehead, and you scowled, wiping the mark on your skin. “I think you need a drink, love.”

“Kenny’s Bar?” Gally offered, and a series of acknowledgements and agreements going up around the room. You’d heard them talking about that bar before, it seemed to be a house favourite but you’d never been along with them before, and it felt like some kind of initiation ritual or rite of passage. 

“You should go and change first. Get comfy, I’ll wait for you.”

“Actually, if you guys go on ahead, I’ll wait.” Thomas stood to the side, scratching at the back of his neck as he met your eye, shrugging a little before looking around the small group gathered around you, who seemed equally as shocked as you were. “Seriously, I mean it. We have some things to talk about.”

“We do?” You questioned dumbly, and he fixed you with a pointed look, before you nodded your head. “Right, sure, yeah, okay. I can work with that, I guess. I mean, if you don’t see me in the next twelve hours, you know who I was with last.”

“Uh-huh.” Newt eyes his friend sceptically, the two seeming to have a silent conversation all with that eye contact, before Newt was rounding everyone up. “Go get changed, don’t take too long, we’ll see you soon.”

He hugged you gently, before guiding the rest of the team out of the building, pats on your arm and squeezes of your hand as they all passed by and discussed who would be designated drivers and drop everyone else at home, each discussing driving their cars home and coming along to collect them as they went. You waved Newt’s bag at Thomas a little, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder, and he nodded his head, tension forming between you both as you slipped away to find the bathrooms. 

You were already learning your way around the halls of this building well, locating them easily enough, and stepping inside. Pulling out the contents of the beg, you sealed yourself inside one of the cubicles, putting the lid down and taking a seat on top of it. Toeing off your shoes and leaving them on the floor, you were wiggling out of your crisp uniform trousers, slipping into your leggings, bouncing as you tugged them up your legs and wiggling as you got comfortable. With some simple sneakers and your hoodie on, you were feeling much more relaxed and comfortable. 

Stuffing everything else inside of the bag, you zipped it up, heading back to the waiting room, and finding Thomas with his hands shoved into his pockets, your bag on his shoulder, and he offered you what looked only mildly like a forced smile as you made your presence known. 

“Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He nodded his head, letting you go through the door first as you stepped into the halls and back towards the elevator, total silence sitting in the space between you both. As he pressed the button, it was almost immediately ready for you, and you stood on opposite sides of the box as you waited for the doors to close again and sink back to the lobby. “So is this the part where you decide the hatred is too much, and actually kill me?”

He laughed, a lightweight and short, but genuine, laugh. Looking up to you, he shook his head a little, amusement still sparking in his eyes. “I don’t hate you. I mean, I don’t necessarily like you, but that's because I don’t know you, and I didn’t really give myself the chance. We got off on the wrong foot, and that's partially my fault.”

“It’s mostly your fault.”

“It’s, like, fifty percent my fault!” He argued, and you clicked your tongue, shaking your head. 

“Ninety.”

“Seventy-five.”

“Fine.” You huffed, surrendering to the deal again, and he gave a toothy grin. “Go on with what you were saying.”

The doors chimed as they opened up, and you fell into step beside him as the two of you began to head towards the doors to the building, letting him guide you as he headed towards his car, trying to form his words, and you waited patiently. “Look, the point is, I know you’ve been a good partner to Newt. Especially today. You went down there to look after that kid because you knew Newt couldn't take it, and while he’d never admit that to either of us, we both know it’s true.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We flipped a coin, and I lost.”

“Do you always flip winning sides over to take a loss?” He questioned, clicking his keys as the sleek black car came into view, and your face flushed with warmth, not having known anyone else had seen that. “Exactly my point. I know I’ve given you a hard time. I have my reasons, okay? It fucking sucks, and no, I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe you understand, maybe you don’t, but I’m trying to apologise, okay?”

He held the door open for you, the passenger seat readily available, and you dropped your bag into the footwell, standing in the way but not taking a seat as you stared up at him. “Okay. I forgive you. I probably shouldn't have been so uptight, but I was hurt too, and I didn’t take that well, so I guess this is me apologising as well.”

“So, we’re cool, now?”

“Sure.” 

He nodded, the two of you staring at each other for a moment longer, and that same dreadfully awkward tension settled over the part of you as neither of you knew quite what to say. Just because you’d called a ceasefire, didn’t mean that there was a sudden connection, it didn't mean that pain and resentment were gone immediately, it just meant that you had agreed to process and move on from it together, instead of dwelling and letting it fester. “Her name was Teresa.”

“What?”

Your eyes snapped back up to his face, but he was staring at the ground, arms resting on top of the door, and he was picking at his nails. “The last paramedic, the reason I was so mad.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“I owe you an explanation, so I guess I’m forcing myself to.” He sighed, running a hand through already messy hair. “She was.. a wildcard. Passionate and funny and just this real source of energy, you know? Kinda’ like you. She skipped out on us all of a sudden before shift one day, a better offer somewhere else, she didn’t tell us, but she just up and left. I was hurt, I thought I meant something to her.”

“I’m sorry, Thomas..”

“No, I am. Because all my suffering was emotional. She was Newt’s partner, he had to try and handle a case on his own because we couldn't get a replacement in before a call came, and that's the day he injured his leg. He fell through a couple of burning floors, top to bottom of the building, shattered his leg like that kid. Nobody knew where he was, he had no partner to call it in. Minho found him, unconscious from smoke inhalation and carried him out.” He let out a shaky breath, and you dared to reach out, placing a hand over his as they sat joined, and squeezing lightly. “I don’t blame myself for the accident, it had nothing to do with me. But, for whatever your own reasons are, I know you’ve jumped between houses a lot, and I was worried about Newt again. He’s my best friend.”

“I promise you, I won’t ever do that.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think Teresa would either, but then a better offer came along.” He sighed, lifting a thumb to rest over one of your fingers and stroke lightly as he sought his one comfort from your touch, and you squeezed his hands once again. “I shouldn't have compared you to her, and I’m sorry. It was unfair, I don’t even know you.”

Quit consumed you both once again, and there was nothing else to be said, only the weight of his confession hanging in the air, before you were perking up a little, realising how to gently move on and bring his mood back up. “You any good at pool?”

“Uh, what?”

“You know, pool. In bars. Does this bar have one?” You encouraged, his eyes meeting yours again and brows furrowing with confusion. 

“Yeah, it does.”

“Well, you said you didn’t know anything about me. First thing to learn is that I’m amazing at pool.” He stood up a little more, smiling softly as he took your bait to move on from the conversation, and there was a slight twinkle of mischief in those honey-brown eyes. “Winner buys drinks?”

“Alright, I’ll take that deal, but only if we play darts afterwards. At which I will kick your ass, because I am fucking great at it.”

“You’re on, Thomas.” He chuckled, letting you step into the car and shutting the door behind you, the conversation being stored away for now, to think about when you were alone and process the details, but for now, you had bonding to do, with your teammates; for the first time yet, you genuinely considered the possibility of setting up roots somewhere, and making real friends that would last. 

[agustdef]

A Calm Day

Pairing: Doyoung x Reader.

Genre: Fluff; Slice of Life; Established Relationship.

Word Count: 1.9k.

Warning: None.

Rating: PG.

Beta Reader: @suhdays​ read it over and reassured me it was cute. 

A/N: This is a late birthday present for the sweetest of beans aka @hobeemin​. I wish I could have made something better, but also who would like a nice day with the dork known as Doyoung. I already told you happy birthday, but again I hope that you had a great days and every birthday to come is also great. 

Saturdays were a time for going out and enjoying yourself. For attending brunch, get togethers, parties, or even going on adventures. Or at least that was what YN was all about when she was in college and the few years that came after. The version of her that had a demanding job and a somewhat active social circle deemed Saturdays a day of rest. Sunday could have all the fun, but the day after a work week was for her to unwind.

Well, her and her fiancé who seemed to fail to remember what the word relaxation meant.

Which was why on the Saturday morning - more like early afternoon - after a particularly tough week she expected to wake up in bed alone. However, she opened her eyes to find Doyoung knocked out of the bed next to her. It surprised her, even more so because he looked like he was still within a deep sleep and not just lying there trying to sleep.

A smile formed on YN’s lips seeing him like that. The dork tended to work too hard and then not give himself time to recuperate. It was a constant point of issue between the two of them. But when he did take the time to relax it was beautiful. She found him handsome every second of the day, but resting Doyoung was just so beautiful. And he was peaceful to watch, though she tried not to be a creep about it.

Doyoung would never let her live it down if he caught her and she was not about to play that game with him.

So, after a few seconds of staring at his face in the sunlight she closed her own eyes and let sleep claim her again. She needed it.

When she woke up again though, the bed was empty and the clock told her she’d slept in past one. Sleep clung to her saying she could stay in bed longer, but she knew that she’d had enough and despite the goal of chilling that day she didn’t want to sleep it away.

Which meant that she forced herself up and out of the bed, swaying a bit as she tried to wake up enough to not faceplant the first step she took. It took several seconds and so blurred vision, but she pulled it together, but before she could fully lift her foot the door to the bathroom swung open and out came Doyoung.

He was shocked to see her, but a smile took over his face rather quickly.

“I was just going to come and wake you up,” he said.

YN narrowed her eyes and scanned over his features, noting the clothing that he was wearing carefully.

“What so you can make me go on a run?” she asked, though it was more like an accusation.

At that the smile on Doyoung’s face dropped and he rolled his eyes. The sassiness that was a large part of his personality always came out at the drop of the hat.

“No. I’m allowed to wear basketball shorts and this shirt without going to work out. I ran you a bath.”

There was still something suspicious about it all, but after a few seconds YN stop looking at him sideways and instead smiled.

“Well, aren’t you the sweetest,” she said as she approached him, reaching up to pinch his cheek as she did it.

Of course, there was more eye rolling, but Doyoung smiled at her again. Then he leaned forward to place a kiss to her lips. It was gentle and warm, which somehow made her feel both calmer and much more awake. She enjoyed that feeling and pouted the moment he pulled away.

That was funny to Doyoung though and instead of giving her another kiss to stop the pouting he merely grabbed her hand and led her into the bathroom. There she found the aromatherapy machine going and a bath bomb dissolving into the water creating a nice lilac hue. It was one that she’d run out of a month before and kept forgetting to go buy more of. She’d mentioned in two days before when she wanted to take a bath but didn’t have it on hand, running her plans.

And that’s all it took to stop the pouting and start the heart eyes. Doyoung liked to pretend he was more standoffish than he was, but he was one of the sweetest people that YN knew. He always paid attention to what she said and with the week she’d been having, he must have known how much she needed even something as minor as her favorite bath bomb.

Doyoung had to have seen the way her lips parted to say something, because before she could get all soft on him he was talking.

“You can relax here for a while. But you have about forty-five minutes to get ready. We’re going out, so wear something comfortable and relaxed.”

Then before she could process that he was out of the bathroom.

Part of her wanted to call him back and ask what he meant or give him the small praise she’d been prepared to say, but she knew better than to ask his plans for them. Plus, the moment she looked back at the tub the ache her body felt hit and she wanted nothing more to sit in the scalding water. So, that’s what she did.

The moment she stepped in after stripping her body begged her to leave because of how hot it was, but she merely waited a second for it to adjust at her feet and submerged all but her head. More warning bells went off, but they left her seconds later and she felt herself become one with the water. The smell and feel of the lavender bath bomb melting away her pain almost instantly.

Everything just felt better in a bath where she didn’t have to focus on anything but herself. Not that she really did that since she practically drifted off in there and didn’t snap out of it until the water got a little too cool about thirty minutes later. She felt like a prune, but it was fine because she felt so good.

After she checked the time on the clock in the bathroom she got out, drained the tub, and hopped into the shower so that she could clean herself. From there it was quick work to get skincare done and herself moisturized and dressed.

As she pulled on her second sock Doyoung entered their bedroom looking ready to rush her only to stop when he saw her basically ready. All she needed to do was throw her hair in a ponytail, which was easy enough since she’d gotten faux locs two weeks before and they were lived in enough that she could style them any which way.

With her ready to go she and Doyoung left the house without much of a word to each other. Doyoung seemed in a rush so she didn’t want to slow him down by asking a million questions, however the moment he got them onto the highway she turned to him with a raised brow.

���Where are we going?”

“Somewhere.”

“Where is somewhere?”

“A place.”

“What kind of place?”

“A place I want to take you.”

“A place where you want to take me to murder me?”

Though he’d maintained a straight face through her little questioning the last question caused him to groan and glare at her. She knew that he wasn’t planning to murder her and that he wanted it to be a surprise, but once she got into the groove of the back and forth it was hard for her to stop herself. That wasn’t new though, so though Doyoung was mildly annoyed with her antics he brushed it off rather easily.

“Keep it up and yes it will be where I murder you,” he mumbled.

That response elicited a laugh from YN, the kind where you threw your head back and smiled too hard. Something that only made Doyoung a little fed up with her, though she swore she saw him smile a little at it.

From there they just enjoyed the ride with a soft pop music playing as they went. YN watched the scenery change from building to forest and then back. And the next thing she knew they were pulling into the smaller parking lot near their favorite spot to relax near the Han River.

The location was a bit shocking, but she went along with it and didn’t pester the poor man anymore. Though that became hard as they got out of the car and he pulled a picnic basket out of the trunk. What they were doing was clear, but still so many questions entered her head that she just didn’t voice.

Once Doyoung had the basket he took hold of her hand and led her out closer to the river. They walked a few minutes before they reached a spot under a tree that they both liked. Thankfully, no one was under it or around the area, so they had a little privacy.

Happy with their spot Doyoung quickly unpacked the basket, swatting away YN’s hands any time she tried to help him out. Though that didn’t fully stop her and eventually he moved so quickly that she didn’t even have the chance to intervene at all.

“Sit,” he said once he finished.

That made YN narrow her eyes and tilt her head at him. For a moment he did the same before sighing and plopping onto the blanket he’d laid out.

“Please sit with me.”

With the rephrasing she plopped down next to him and took in what he’d brought for them to enjoy. It was a mix of all their favorite portable foods. Some sandwiches, kimbap, fruits, drinks, and part of their convenience store snack stash.

“I thought that we could spend the afternoon like this. We haven’t had the time to in a while, so it seemed to be a good idea. Especially before dinner with my sister, tonight” Doyoung said.

Hearing that warmed YN a great deal because it was thoughtful. She hadn’t complained about the lack of time spent together, but it had been something that popped into her mind a time or too. And knowing how Doyoung and his sister got along it was going to be stressful and there definitely need to be some dumping of stress before and after that dinner.

Though he also probably wanted brownie points for later because nine point nine times out of ten Doyoung was the reason things with his sister went awry and YN had to get on his case about it. But she didn’t think about that too long, just leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek before picking up a sandwich to eat.

Doyoung returned the favor and then joined her eating. Neither had had anything all day so they were beyond hungry and scarfed down half of the provisions within minutes. Not that either cared about the slobbish way they ate anyway. Food in their stomachs was the end goal.

Upon finishing their breakfast slash lunch, they both laid back on the blanket and stared at the sky.

“Did you finish that book you were reading?” Doyoung asked.

“Yeah. It was okay.”

“Can I borrow it? Looked like something I’d like.”

“Sure, but you have to let me borrow yours.”

“Mine?”

“Yeah, that one from a few weeks back.”

“Ooh. Yeah, that one was…”

The moment books were mentioned they both kind of spiraled down that path, discussing ones they’d read before and recommending others they thought the other might like.

Overall, it was a pretty chill day but that was all that YN could ever ask for. Sometimes you didn’t need more than company and calm conversation. Sometimes it was the thing that did the most for the soul.