#it’s been a couple of weeks and something always tends to happen when I don’t have therapy frequently

[arandombiped]

therapy pog

[willsdreamgirl]

“morning mr. shelby.” — tommy shelby x reader ⋆｡˚

tommy shelby x fem!reader

you meet tommy as a nurse during the war, but happens when he realizes that he’s known you all along? (loosely based around some s1 plot points, but all set before the war)

18+ minors dni please! angst, fluff and smut

cw: mentions of war, shooting, stabbing, suturing, ptsd, friends to lovers, eventual smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), slight breeding kink

word count: 5.4k+ (sorry lmao)

a/n: ahh first fic alert!! i’m so excited for you guys to read this! don’t be a ghost reader and lmk if you want to be added to my tag list for future tommy/cillian stuff!! 💌

you met tommy shelby during the war. he was a soldier, you were a wartime nurse. before the war, you had obviously heard of him. tommy shelby, leader of the fucking peaky blinders. arrogant bastards.

you lived in small heath, and everyday you’d pass him on the street. and everyday, you’d smile and say, “morning, mr. shelby.” and everyday, he would barely look up at you. you were sure he wasn’t even aware of your existence. prick.

your parents had always told you to stay away from the shelby boys. your dad would say that “they’re dangerous and make whores out of innocent girls” and your mum would make some comment about “the shelby men and their stupid cocks and their stupid judgements”.

they were the most intimidating people in all of small heath, possibly in all of birmingham. truth be told, there was a certain charm to them that you couldn’t shake off. well, to one of them. tommy shelby. you couldn’t tell if it was because he was your age, or because he was powerful and strong, or simply because he was strictly off limits. or because of his piercing blue eyes.

everyone in small heath knew tommy. but you knew tommy. he didn’t know you, though. you could tell if was him by the way he exhaled or by the sound of his footsteps or by the way he held a cigarette in his hand, the peaked cap on his head, a hand in his coat pocket. you despised tommy shelby, but god, was he fucking irresistible.

when men were drafted for the war in france, it was common sense that they’d need someone to tend to their cuts and bruises. you’d decided to volunteer, and after a couple weeks of training, you were right there, in the field. practicing on dolls and bags of rice and flour was nothing compared to what you saw. what you heard.

your first day in france was… eventful, to say the least. some commander had led you to the medical tent, and you were welcomed by the screams of hurt soldiers, blood and panic. you were immediately assigned to a patient, who’d been shot in the chest. you tried your best, did everything you could have, but ultimately, he had just lost too much blood. you didn’t sleep that night, haunted by the bloodshed, by the pleas of the soldier to keep him alive, by the feeling of someone else’s blood on your hands. over time, however, you grew accustomed to having your pristine white uniform soiled with blood and mud.

a month or so after you’d started, you heard shouts outside the tent. “help! someone HELP, for FUCK’s SAKE!” this was a regular occurrence, but the voice the shouts came from didn’t sound wounded. you felt an instinctual need to go see what it was.

what you saw, though, was something you never expected to see. tommy shelby, with a comrade’s head in his lap, putting pressure on a wound in his shoulder. without hesitating, you helped tommy drag the soldier to a vacant bed in the tent. “what happened?” you asked, hurriedly. tommy was visibly panicked. “i- he- um, he got st-stabbed by… one of the germans… his name’s danny- daniel.” you looked in tommy’s eyes, trying to give him some semblance of comfort. “he’ll be okay.” you applied pressure on the wound, and luckily, the blood stopped flowing soon. you cleaned the wound up and looked to tommy. “i’m gonna have to disinfect the wound with alcohol, you might want to hold daniel down for this.” daniel was still delirious from the blood loss, but the pain would be excruciating. tommy braced himself. his hands firmly holding down daniel’s. you nodded before tipping the bottle over on the wound. danny thrashed around on the bed, screaming and cursing, struggling against tommy’s hold. you heard his voice over danny’s. “you’re alright, lad! y’er gonna be fine!”

tommy sat by his friend’s bedside as he came to. you tended to other patients in the meantime but eventually went over to talk to him. “i want to keep him here for the night, mr. shelby. make sure there’s no infection.” he looked at you, surprised you knew him. “you know who i am?” “of course i do, all of small heath knows you. what i didn’t expect was to have a run-in with you, here in france.” he scoffed at his own misery and spoke. “you don’t belong here. you should be home.” you rolled your eyes, even in his state, he managed to be cocky. “if i wasn’t here today, mr. shelby, who would save danny?” that seemed to shut him up. he was about to speak, before you heard your name from the other side of the tent. “y/n, we need you!” after having helped a soldier who looked like he had been mauled, you looked out to see it was nightfall, and tommy had left.

a couple days later, at about noon, john shelby, the youngest of the shelby brothers walked in, clutching his arm tightly. “do you need help, mr. shelby?” you called out. “yes, i-i’ve been shot.” he all but whispered. you rushed over with a tray of distilled alcohol, forceps and bandages. after an afternoon of agony and pain, you had finally managed to pull out the bullet form his arm, john’s face a clear representation of his relief. “oh my god love, if we were home, i’d marry you right now.” you laughed at the proposition. “mr. shelby, i think you’re still a bit delirious from the anaesthesia. besides, i’m your brother’s age.” he looked shocked. “what, you’re arthur’s age? really?? you look nothing like that old prick.” you couldn’t help but laugh yet again. “i’m not that old, jesus. i’m tommy’s age.” he sighed. “marry him then. lord knows he needs a girl.” you giggled as you gathered your things and walked away. “you amuse me far too much, mr. shelby.”

it felt like ages had passed before you saw tommy again. your back was towards the tent entrance but you knew who had walked in. his breath trembled and his footsteps felt a bit unsteady, but it was undoubtedly him. you waited to turn until he called out your name. “y/n, is it?” you turned around, to find his face and shirt covered in blood. “mr. shelby! what happened?” you rushed over to him, taking his hand and sitting his down on a bed. “i- i… killed a man today, y/n.” he looked down, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. you didn’t respond, simply got up and grabbed a stitching kit and a bowl of warm water. “is all this blood yours?” was your first question. “no. most of it is his.” you sighed and searched his face to find a cut on his cheekbone, the source of his own bleeding. “i’m wiping away the blood now, okay?” tommy gulped and nodded, his eyes still trained on the ground. “mr. shelby, i want you to look at me.” it was as if he didn’t hear you. you spoke again, softer yet more authoritative this time. “tommy. look at me.” he finally brought himself to look into your eyes. in his eyes, you saw guilt, regret and fear. in yours, he saw compassion, love and a warmth that could engulf all his pain. “good.” you whispered. you wrung out a washcloth and began wiping the blood away from his face, using your other hand to hold his chin in place. his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist, in an attempt to ground himself. you didn’t say anything, but your eyes told him that you didn’t mind. in that moment, you saw a different version of tommy shelby. you didn’t see ‘tommy, the criminal’, ‘tommy, the gangster’ or ‘tommy, the womanizer’. you saw tommy, a good man, an honest man. you felt his arms tighten around your waist as you pulled your hands away from his face, as if he was afraid you would dissipate into thin air. “tommy.” you whispered. “i’m gonna have to stich that wound up. it might hurt.” but he didn’t mind pain, not if you were the one inflicting it. “okay.” he spoke, his voice deep. he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumbs, the pain making him hum. “sorry, almost done.” you finished the last stitch. “there. you’re all fixed.” tommy held you like that, his hands around your waist, icy blue eyes staring into yours. your arms rested on his shoulders and you leaned down to whisper to him. “tommy. people are staring.” “so? let them.” eventually, he reluctantly pulled away from you. “it’s time for dinner, and then lights out.” he smiled as he spoke, and slowly exited the tent, catching a glimpse of you as he left.

needless to say, you only grew closer over the next few weeks. you were inseparable. whenever tommy had free time, he’d make his way to the familiar tent, and talk to you. it was wartime. you were left hurt and traumatized and so was he, but you both found solace in each other’s company. you told him how you knew him, and how you’d wish him good morning every day, only to receive complete silence from him each time. he chuckled and apologized. he told you about the peaky blinders, what they did, how they ran their business. you bonded over your shared hunger for knowledge and stories. you told him everything you knew about art, history and literature; and he told you stories of fighting gangs in the streets and stealing contraband. his stories were always more thrilling than yours. you’d try to set each other up with people for fun. you’d introduce him to every nurse, telling them how he was fighting for his country, and of course, they fell prey to his charming eyes and dashing smile. they’d ask what he did back home, and as soon as you said the words ‘gangster’, they’d run in the opposite direction. he’d done the same for you. introduced you to other soldiers, and when you spoke to them, about art and literature, they’d call you ‘unladylike’ or ‘too ambitious for a man’. you both secretly liked it this way, it was like you were his and he was yours.

when he became sergeant major, you both celebrated together. he’d brought you a bottle of whiskey, and you spent the night, talking and giggling drunkenly. but soon, he was assigned to be a sapper and dig tunnels. you both knew that the germans were going to dig their own tunnels, and at some unfortunate point, the tunnels would converge. both of you realized the danger it held, but he had to do it. you tried to talk him out of it, though. “tommy, please!” “y/n, calm down.” “goddamn it tommy, think! you’re gonna get yourself killed! what the fuck are you doing?” “i’ll be alright.” “no, you won’t! what if you get hurt? what if they shoot at you, huh? i won’t be there underground to make sure you’re okay!” “y/n, i have to serve my country. i have to do this.” “tommy. i’m begging you, don’t do this.” he simply sighed and kissed your forehead and held your face in his hands. you held tightly onto his wrists as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “shhh, i’ll be alright. in fact, i’ll write you.” you seemed to calm down at the idea of him writing you. at least you’d be updated on his condition.

the morning he went down to the tunnels, he came to see you. you were sorting gauze and bandages when you felt his presence near you. you turned around and ran to hug him. he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. you could feel tears brimming your eyes. neither of you knew why you felt like this. you were just friends, right? “tommy michael shelby, i swear to god if you die, i’ll kill you myself.” you heard him chuckle. he took a step back and caressed your cheek. “you take care, darling.” you wished he wouldn’t leave, but in your heart, you knew he had to. a few hours after, you found a letter tucked under a book on your desk. you curiously pulled it out and opened it.

dearest y/n,

i know how much you hate that i’m going to be a sapper now. i want you to know, no matter what happens down there, i care for you, and i love you, unconditionally. i’ve loved you since the day i first met you. i can’t believe i was looking for love in whores and prostitutes when the love of my fucking life was saying the sweetest good morning to me every morning. i’ll protect myself, and i want you to protect yourself too since i can’t do that for the time being. if we survive this wretched war, i want to take you home, ask your father for your hand and marry you, sweetheart. you take care of yourself, alright?

all my love,

tommy shelby.

you couldn’t help but gasp at what you read. he loved you. tommy shelby loved you. the same tommy shelby that was too arrogant to say a word to you, the same tommy shelby that your parents told you to stay away from, the same tommy shelby was head over heels for you. you immediately looked for a piece of paper, a pen and some ink. you wrote a letter back and sent it with one of the workers heading down to the tunnels. you didn’t know what it was like down there, but you hoped your letters would keep him sane. meanwhile, tommy received your letter and opened it with the same enthusiasm you showed his letter. however, he was also filled with nervous energy. he had confessed his love for you, which was so incredibly out of character for him, but with shaky hands, he proceeded to open the letter.

dearest tommy,

to say that your letter was shocking would be an understatement. i never knew you felt this way for me. like i’ve told you on several occasions, my parents always told me to stay away from ‘your kind’ and as a good catholic girl, i obeyed them. but tommy, in these few months, i’ve seen a side of you i can’t ever forget. i love you too tommy, the real you. the honest, raw, genuine tommy that i get to see on late nights and in random moments on busy days. i’d love to marry you, just make it out alive of that damn tunnel, you prick.

only yours,

y/n.

tommy felt his eyes welling up as he read the words you had penned on the paper. it had been so long since he’d seen you, or heard your voice. he wanted you. he needed you. to keep him stable and sane. as the days passed, your and tommy’s letter exchange became more and more frequent, and you felt like even if you were in this goddamned lawless land of blood and chaos, you had tommy. and he was all you needed.

that was, until the letters slowed down. you kept writing him, but to no avail. he hadn’t sent you a letter in days, or weeks, you weren’t sure anymore. you’d almost lost hope, and spent entire nights grieving him. trying to remember the sound of his voice, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the smell of his cologne. you hadn’t heard his breath or felt his footsteps in a long time. the pain was almost unbearable, and some days felt like decades. but the only thought that kept you going was that you saw tommy in all the wounded soldiers you treated. they were someone’s tommy. and they needed to get home alive.

4 months. 4 whole months since you heard from tommy. you were convinced he was dead now. you spent your days bandaging and stitching wounds, yet you could never fix the wound tommy left in your heart. it was one of the hottest afternoons, the french sun blazing unmercifully. you were insanely busy with patients today, the war was almost ending, and the soldiers needed to be fixed up before they could go home. yet, no sign of tommy. you sighed, cursing yourself for holding out hope now for someone who would not return.

“can i have a nurse here?” you could recognize that damn voice anywhere. the deep voice that filled your ears, smooth like honey, you’d recognize that voice at the end of the world. you turned around. tommy. “hi, love.” he smiled. but his smile quickly changed into a frown when he saw your sobs. you took him to a quieter corner of the tent. you stepped closer to him. he went to put his arms around you. you slapped him across the face. “where. the FUCK were you, thomas michael shelby?!” he was incredibly confused. “l- love, what?” “i thought YOU DIED, YOU BASTARD. where were you?” the time you spent apart had changed you, and from his response, you could tell it clearly changed him. “i was TRYING to fucking STAY ALIVE for YOU.” he raised his voice at you. he never raised his voice. neither of you spoke for a while and tension filled the air between the two of you. “i should leave.” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. he left, and you let him.

after a few weeks, news broke that britain had won the war, and everyone went home. five years had passed since you last saw the familiar streets of small heath, and you were no longer a girl, but a woman. a woman who needed to get a job to survive in this city. you walked around and saw a flyer on the doors of the garrison. ‘BARMAID NEEDED.’ you walked in to find harry. he looked up pleasantly surprised. “y/n! haven’t seen you in a while, eh? what can i do you for?” “i’m here to get the barmaid job, harry.” he sighed.” y/n, this job isn’t suitable for a girl like you. these men, they’ve just come back from war, they haven’t seen a girl, let alone a pretty one like yourself, in ages. they’ll have you up against a wall within the first hour of your shift.” you looked at him desperately. “harry, please. i need this job, otherwise i’ll be out on the streets, which are surely worse than this pub. i was a nurse in france, i’ve dealt with these men. please?” he sighed again before nodding. “alright then, you start tomorrow.”

your first shift consisted of the usual alcoholics, men with ptsd, everything that was to be expected after a war. you hear the bells at the door ring as the familiar footsteps walk closer to the bar. without turning around, you ask, “what do you want?” he replies, “whiskey, scotc- y/n?” you finally turn around at the sound of your name falling from his lips. “yes, mr. shelby. so, scotch? on the house right?” he leans over so that just the two of you can hear. “don’t mr. shelby me. come on, love, talk to me.” “i have nothing to talk to you about.” as you poured him a glass of whiskey, he held your wrist assertively. “y/n. come.” you rolled your eyes and went to the shelby’s private booth. “what is it that you want, tommy?” “what the fuck do you mean ‘what do i want’? you, i want YOU. i need you. did ya lose your fucking mind in france like danny whiz-bang?” you felt your bottom lip trembling and your throat choking up. “i… i thought y- you were fucking dead. i mourned you. for MONTHS. i grieved over the death of the love of my life. of my future husband. of my future children that i’d have with him. and then, just as i’m making my peace with it, YOU have the fucking audacity to show up? you have some bloody nerve, tommy shelby.” the look in his eyes softened as he took a step closer to you. “no. don’t you dare come any closer to me, tommy, i’ll kill you.” you said, holding up the bottle of whiskey as a weapon. he embraced you, holding you tightly, his fingers stroking your hair. you resisted the hug and tried to push him away, only to find his grip on you getting tighter. “g- get away… from me, p- please… i- just” your voice came out muffled between sobs. tommy felt hot tears rolling down his own cheeks. “shhh, sweetheart. i’m okay, eh? i’m fine. i’m here, with you.” you dropped the bottle you were holding and it shattered into a million pieces on the ground. you stood there in his arms, crying for what felt like an eternity. you finally pulled away from him, and he wiped your tears with his thumbs. you laughed, but then lightly slapped his arm. “you scare me like that again, tommy, i swear i’ll kill ya.” “i’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead, and you rested your forehead against his. he tentatively closed the gap between your lips and his, and you pulled him by the collar and kissed him with enough force to make him trip and fall. he managed to stay steady and kissed you back with equal fervour. he spoke between kisses. “i *kiss* spent *kiss* every *kiss* second *kiss* thinking *kiss* of you.” you giggled. “i missed you too, tommy.”

he told harry that you’d be leaving the bar early that day, and dragged you out the bar while holding your hand, a smile on his face for the first time in a long time. “the great thomas shelby isn’t embarrassed to have a barmaid as his girlfriend?” you giggled. “never. and those who think i should be embarrassed can suck me cock.” he spoke proudly. he opened the car door for you, and you sat inside and waited for him to turn the ignition on. “where are we going, tommy?” “i want you to meet my family, love.” during the countless hours you spent together chatting, he told you about his family’s idiosyncrasies and stories about them. how arthur needed to be protected the most during fights because he was just as likely to hurt himself as he was to hurt someone else, how aunty pol’s instincts about love were never wrong, how john once fell in love with a prostitute and everyone laughed at him, how ada was the most rebellious and married a communist (who happened to be in of his best mates), and how finn always pretended to act like tommy, doing whatever his big brother did. you were excited to meet them of course, but anxious. they would be your family one day too.

he held your hand as he brought you in, everyone sitting around a table waiting for him. “does everyone just sit together like this?” you asked. “uh, no i called a family meeting for 3 pm.” tommy replied simply. “how did you know you’d be able to have me here by 3?” he winked at you. “i have my ways. and i know how much you love me.” he spoke in a singsong voice. you rolled your eyes at his schoolboy behaviour and waited for him to speak. “shelby’s, this is my girlfriend and soon to be fiancé, y/n.” he held his arm around your waist proudly, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. you recognized arthur and john immediately from your time in the war. you assumed that the older woman was aunt polly, and the younger with the baby in her arms would be ada, leaving the youngest member of the family, finn. john came up to talk to you first, while tommy spoke with polly. “you know i didn’t really mean the ‘marry tommy’ thing?” you laughed as you replied, “i didn’t either, but fate works in weird ways, eh?” he agreed with you before talking to tommy. arthur was the next one to see you. “you and tommy, eh? if it wasn’t for the war, you two would probably never have met. i s’pose war isn’t all bad then.” “perhaps you’re right. i did find your brother to be arrogant before the war.” “that he is, y/n. that he is.” both of you looked over at him, engaged in conversation with everyone else. you fussed over the baby in ada’s arms. “awww, he’s precious! what’s his name?” “karl, after karl marx.” you shot her a look. “it’s unconventional, i know. but freddie really wanted it.” “it’s lovely.” finn rushed over to you and kissed your hand. you gushed exaggeratedly. “what a gentleman you are, finn!” “if tommy wasn’t here, you’d be my girlfriend, miss y/n.” you laughed at his childishness and ruffled his hair. “sure i would, finn.” the only person you hadn’t spoken to yet was aunt polly, arguably the most intimidating person of the family. “i have one question for you, y/n. how you answer it will determine if you’re fit for being a shelby. how do you think i kept this business up and running during the war?” you felt put on the spot but tried your best to answer. “um, well, to be quite frank, i’ve believed that women are better at business anyway. we know how to settle deals with whiskey and not fists or guns. and you seem like twice the man than most men i know anyway.” her lips twitched up into a smile as she looked to tommy. “oh, i like her already.” he held your hand in hers, and addressed tommy. “she seems like a lovely girl, do not fuck this up tommy.” tommy shook his head and laughed. “i’ll try, pol. i’ll try.”

you ate dinner with the shelby’s before you headed up to his house. “you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?” he asked for the hundredth time that night. “no tommy, i’m perfectly content spending the night with you. unless you’d like me to leave?” you questioned. “no no, stay, please!” he said, almost pleadingly. you looked around his bedroom when you reached his home. it was obviously a house, but it didn’t feel like a home. you frowned at your observation. “what’s wrong, y/n?” “this house isn’t a home yet, tommy.” “that’s because i want my first home to be with you. with our children. and as far as i’m concerned, you are my home.”

“care to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand. you looked at the gramophone in the corner. “that doesn’t look like it works, love.” you placed your hand in his. “so what? we can dance without music.” he said, holding your waist close to him, your hand on his shoulder. you leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you dancing in the silence, listening to the sound of each other’s breathing. “kiss me, tommy.” you whispered. he obeyed probably for the first time in his life and kissed your soft lips.

things escalated and you were now on tommy’s bed, tracing the sun tattoo on his chest, with him on top of you. “fuck me, tommy, please.” “your cunt wants this cock?” he growled. you moaned in his ear. “fuck, yes tommy, make me yours.” he stretched you out in the most blissful way. of course, you had used your fingers before, but nothing could replace the feeling of his cock. “god, please!” you moaned out, words slowly turning into incoherent sounds. tommy chuckled. “god can’t hear you now, sweetheart. not here.” he pistoned his hips into you just right and it wasn’t long before he found the spot inside you that made you scream. “t- tommy fuck! right there, please don’t stop!” “i wouldn’t dream of stopping, darling. my girl, so pretty all spread out for me. take it, love. take that cock.” the feeling of your impending orgasm coursed through your entire body, making you writhe in pleasure. “god, i’m so close tommy!” “good fucking girl.” his hand reached down to rub circles on your clit while he fucked you so good. “oh god, tommy, i’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow…” “that’s the plan, sweetheart.” he spoke as he kissed hickeys on your neck, matching the ones you’d given him earlier. “come on love, make a mess on my cock.” as soon as he said that, you felt yourself falling apart, the tight band in your stomach snapping, uncontrollable moans of his name falling from your lips. “thank you tommy, thank you so much.” you moaned, drunk on the feeling of his cock inside you. “such an angel. who do you belong to, sweets?” he said, still pounding your cunt. “y- you, tommy. i belong to you!” “that’s right, sweetheart.” he whispered in your ear, “i love you, darling.” you moaned as you felt your second orgasm approaching. “tommy, fuck! i- i love you too!” “god i’m gonna cum inside you! you’d like that, eh? me getting you pregnant, all nice and round with my baby?” you felt your orgasm pulsing through you at his words. “yes, tommy! fill my womb up, please! i need it!” you heard tommy’s loud moans as he came inside you. “oh, such a good girl. took my cock so well, love.” tommy stayed on top of you for a while, his cock still inside you. “i’ve wanted to do that for five fucking years.” he spoke, voice muffled since his head was buried between your tits. you laughed, but the laughs quickly turned to moans as your sensitive cunt felt friction from tommy’s cock rubbing up against its walls. he pulled out of you slowly, watching his seed spill out of you. he eventually got up to get a warm washcloth and a glass of water for you. you drank the water as he cleaned you and himself up and pulled you into his chest. you pulled the covers over both of you, feeling your body flush against his. “that was amazing tommy, thank you.” “the pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead.

ever since tommy came back from france, he had these recurring nightmares every night. of his time in the tunnels. the germans. his comrades. how he had to kill people with his bare hands. he could still hear the shovels digging the tunnels when he closed his eyes. when he was with you though, he could finally fall asleep. or so he thought.

you were awoken in the middle of the night by the sounds of a gasping tommy, suddenly sitting up. you felt groggy for a moment, having just woken up, but quickly sprung into action. you sat next to him, rubbing his back. “tommy, what’s wrong?” he didn’t speak. but he didn’t need to. you’d seen enough cases of ptsd from your time in the war to know what was happening to him. “you still see it, eh?” he only nodded. you laid back down and pulled him into your chest. he protested. “what are y-” “shut up.” you could tell, he was still a bit frantic, his breath still heavy. you spoke to him in a soft tone and you played with his fingers, his head on your chest. “listen to me. listen to the sound of my voice. feel my body against yours. you are home. you are safe. the war is over. the nightmares are just parts of your mind trying to scare you. but you’re stronger than that, eh? i’m here with you, and you don’t need to be scared. alright? i’m here with you, always.” he hummed, heavy eyelids slowly closing shut. being able to smell the scent of your perfume helped ground him. “good job, tommy. now sleep. i’ll be here with you when you wake up.” you managed to get him to go to sleep, but somehow convinced your mind to let you sleep light enough that if tommy were to have another nightmare, you’d be up immediately. fortunately, he didn’t wake up during the night.

he woke up to the sight of a sleeping you, the sun rays hitting you just right. he swore he could look at you forever. you felt his gaze on you and slowly opened your eyes. “how’d you sleep?” you asked. “like i hadn’t slept in years.” he replied.

“morning, mr. shelby.” you wished him, as you did, every day before the war. except this time, you were in his arms, in his bed. you kissed his lips softly. except this time, he finally wished you back.

“mornin’, sweetheart.”

[dc-comics-enjoyer]

Hc on the first time Bruce clearly says I love you

(quick note : Bruce tends to show his love through actions that scream "I love you with all my soul" rather than saying it outright. But hey, let’s have some fun with this)

To Dick - He's 12. Him, Bruce and Alfred just came home from a day out. They spent the day at an amusement park for his bday. Dick has never been happier, so just before he runs back to his room, he turns abruptly to Bruce, almost tripping him and with the brightest smile, he says it. "That was sooo cool ! Thank you, I love you !". Bruce is taken aback but the smile is too blinding which pushes him to not overthink : "I love you too, Dick."

To Jason - After a long period of distancing himself, Jason is finally back with the Batfamily. The tension is still there, but Jason is more open to being around Bruce. One morning, Bruce is in the kitchen having breakfast when Jason walks in. For the first time in a long time, Jason opens the fridge and grabs something to eat. Bruce watches him, feeling moved by the casual domesticity. “Jason ?” He says softly. “Mmh?” “Thank you for being around. I love you." Bruce doesn't immediately realize that he said it, and when he does, Bruce practically runs away.

To Cass - She’s gotten into calligraphy and creates a “Love you” sign, which she slides under Bruce's bedroom door. The next morning, Bruce comes into the kitchen holding up the sign, looking preoccupied. Or is he choked up ? Anyway, “Who made this ?” he asks. Cass raises her hand with a shy smile. Without hesitation, Bruce strides over and pulls her into a hug. “I love you too, kiddo.”

To Clark - On the field, Clark has gone rogue due to red kryptonite. After a grueling battle, the League manages to subdue him and Batman uses kryptonite to neutralize him. This time, however, they're not sure Superman's going to snap out of it. Exhausted both physically and emotionally, Bruce drives the kryptonite into his chest and whispers, "I’m sorry, Clark. I... I love you. Please come back." (bonus points if it buys into the cliché and is what makes Clark come back)

To Damian - He's having a particularly rough time, feeling inadequate, but also misunderstood because ultimately he's still a kid and doesn't know yet how to express himself. That night, he lashes out and pushes everyone away, isolating himself. Bruce's heart breaks when he realizes what's really happening and tells him through the locked door : “I want you to know something important: I love you, and I’m really proud of you, no matter what.” Damian swings the door open and clings onto his father with all his might that night.

To Alfred - Bruce is young and has been Batman for just a couple years. Earlier that night, he sees a father and son playing in the park. It's simple, but, through his whole night out, his mind is relentlessly thinking of them. When he arrives home, Alfred is waiting for him, ready to provide comfort. As always. Bruce is taking off his mask, and when he looks at Alfred, he sees a father. "Alfred. I don’t say it enough-- I don't say it at all but... I love you."

To Tim - Bruce is stuck on a case, and lacking on so many others. The past month has been extremely tough. The cases are piling on but he's burning out, he has his nose to the grindstone. Tim gets home after being away for a couple weeks. Immediately, he gets on the cases too and, because he has a clearer and fresher perspective, he points out a few crucial points. Bruce, dark-circled and unkempt, looks up abruptly : "Y--yes, that's right... How did I not-- Damnit finally ! I goddamn love you, Tim."

[sydnikov]

the ink on your skin || N. Hischier

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Nico Hischier / gn!Reader

Word Count: 10.5k

Summary: You’re a successful tattoo artist right in the middle of Newark, New Jersey. One of your many clients just so happens to be a teammate of Nico Hischier, and he and his girlfriend, Natalie, play a game of matchmaker to get you talking. While you’ve never been a huge fan of hockey, getting to know Nico gets you instantly addicted to the sport as well as him. Friendship quickly turns into holding hands, kissing, acting like a couple but holding off on a label… And then, finally, right as you’re drifting apart, Nico swoops in and turns it into something more.

Warnings: Cursing, some angst, lots of anxiety talk, Tw*tter mentions, mostly fluff, poorly proofread

A/N: This is for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten for @wyattjohnston ‘s Winter Fic Exchange 2024 😁 I’ve been wanting to write for Nico for a while anyways so this gave me the perfect opportunity, and I really enjoyed having a bit of a personalized reader insert to play around with. I hope y’all enjoy! Loosely based on the lyrics of “Tribulation” by Matt Maeson

“Fuck, man, that hurts,”

You chuckle, lifting the needle of your tattoo gun for a few seconds before continuing your work. “I’m almost done, I swear,” you reassure, hiding your smirk as you take a napkin to dab away at the excess ink surrounding your linework.

The very man you’re tattooing, Jonas Siegenthaler, or ‘Siegs’ as you affectionately call him, is someone you’ve known for years. He is also a regular of your tattoo parlor, and right now is getting a lion on his right wrist shaded in.

Playing professional hockey, he doesn’t have much time to spend keeping up with a healing tattoo, but Jonas scheduled an appointment with you a week ago after his team, the New Jersey Devils, were eliminated in the playoffs. With three months to himself, he told you that now is the perfect time to get started on shading his wrist again.

Jonas curses again as the needle goes over the underside of his wrist, and once again you can’t hide back your laughter. You’ve been a tattoo artist for quite a few years now and are fairly used to the varying reactions your customers have, but expletives always manage to get you to break character. With any other client you’d at least attempt to be stoic, but you’ve been friends for long enough to know he doesn’t mind.

Finally, you finish your work, wiping away the remaining ink and powering off your tattoo gun. “Alright, Siegs, that’s it for today.” you say, wrapping his wrist with the proper coverings. Once you’re done sanitizing your own hands, you admire the art on his skin for a moment.

Jonas does the same, sitting up with a giant grin on his face. “It looks amazing, as always,” he looks like he wants to touch his newly-inked skin, but refrains when seeing the warning on your face.

“Okay,” you say as you lead him to the front of the store to ring up his aftercare supplies. Jonas is no amateur when it comes to tattoos by any means, but you feel the need to remind him anyway because athletes in particular always tend to lax out on tattoo aftercare. “You know the drill, but I’m still telling you anyways,”

Jonas just raises an eyebrow, listening to you list off all aftercare instructions as if he hasn’t been coming to you for years. Strangely enough, he couldn’t actually think of a time you’d hung out with each other outside of your working hours. He’ll have to change that, he hums to himself, especially after seeing the small New Jersey Devils flag you have hung on the wall.

“Have you ever been to a Devils game?” he asks as you’re handing him his aftercare supplies.

“I don’t think so, no. You know I don’t pay attention to hockey that much.”

“You should,” Jonas pushes, following you as you shuffle around the entrance of your parlor, likely looking for some supply he wouldn’t know the name of. “We’re a blast. And playoff hopeful again next season,”

You shoot him a wry smile, the both of you knowing it would take a lot more convincing to get you to leave the comforts of your shop to watch a sport you’ve never kept up with before. “Yeah? I’ll consider it,” you deadpan.

The defenseman takes no offense to your words, instead finding them to be a challenge. Mischievously, he grins. “Your consideration will turn into a yes, just you wait,”

“Sure,” you laugh, changing the subject. “You get an uber yet?” It’s relatively early in the day, so competition for booking one shouldn’t be too difficult.

Jonas shakes his head, unlocking his phone at the reminder of needing to leave. “Nah, my teammate is picking me up. He’s our captain, maybe you’ve heard of him—Nico Hischier?”

You think back to news articles you’ve seen online from late April when the Devils made the playoffs for the first time in years and you think you may have heard something about the team’s captain, but otherwise you don’t know much.

“I thought everyone would have gone home by now,” you say instead. It had been a week since their season ended, after all. Maybe this Nico guy had captain duties to attend to? You figure it’s nice of him to pick his teammate up from getting a tattoo either way, though.

The hockey player hears the curiosity in your voice, wondering how you would react to meeting his captain. “We’re both from Switzerland, so we both agreed to fly home together once we were all finished up here in Jersey. Getting my wrist shaded was the last thing on the list, thankfully,”

You make a noncommittal noise of understanding, your curiosity officially peeked by this ‘Nico’ guy. If you’ve learned anything about how the Swiss act from Jonas, you’re definitely looking forward to seeing if this captain was anything like his teammate.

Soon enough, the bell above your door is ringing as a man enters the parlor. You assume it’s Nico Hischier because of the Devils beanie he’s wearing, and because he looks out of place standing in your little parlor on the opposite side of town where his team plays. You wouldn’t know he has several tattoos himself.

You meet his eyes for a moment, and it almost looks like he’s caught off guard by the sight of you before he spots Jonas. He’s tall, you note to yourself, his shy smile endearing as he greets his teammate with a pat on the back.

“Nico!” Jonas greets happily, engaging in a short conversation before he turns his arm up to show his newly-shaded ink. “This one hurt like a bitch, but it’s looking beautiful now, isn’t it?”

“It is,” the man who you now know to be Nico confirms, admiring your work on his friend’s skin. “You did this?” he suddenly asks, the deep timber of his voice catching you off guard.

“Yeah,” you say, a little breathless. He’s beautiful. You think to yourself, confused about why you suddenly feel so hot when you purposefully keep the temperature in your shop cool. “Jonas is one of my regulars.”

Nico hums in response, eyes flitting back and forth from the lion on Jonas’s wrist and back to you, undoubtedly curious about how long his teammate has known you, and why he feels disappointed that he can’t see the rest of the ink decorating your own arms.

He himself is no stranger to tattoos, but he doesn’t have many nor do his look so intricate on his body like they do on yours. I need a new tattoo artist, he thinks, then mentally slaps himself because what?

With your cheeks feeling like they’re on fire, you turn away from the two hockey players in front of you to try and hide the embarrassment you feel. Unbeknownst to you, your movements make the light catch the dainty jewelry decorating your ears and nose, and Nico now undoubtedly finds himself in awe at your retreating form.

Who are you? He thinks. Siegs is a shit for not introducing you sooner. And then he rolls his eyes at himself again. What the fuck is the matter with him, anyways? He must have gotten a concussion during the playoffs, or something.

“You’re a regular?” He looks to his friend, subtly asking how long you’ve known each other. “You must like them, then,”

Jonas never prided himself on being intuitive; Nico’s prying went right over his head. He says your name with a fond smile, briefly looking to you as you mess around your desk again. “Oh, yeah, they’re the best. They’re fucking amazing with a tattoo gun, not to mention a huge Devils fan, too,”

You just so happen to overhear their conversation. “No, I’m not,” you scowl, but quickly retract your statement because Nico is looking at you like you just kicked his puppy. “Well, I mean, I’m a fan but not, like, a huge fan. I’ve never even been to a game,”

“Siegs, you should’ve brought ‘em around sooner, what the fuck!”

“I tried,”

Nico continues on like he didn’t hear him. “You’re coming to opening night. On me—on us, yeah?”

You’re much too in shock to comment on his slip of tongue, instead staring wide-eyed as he looks at you with determination. Nico just met you, but feels this compelling need to know you beyond the fact that you’re his friend’s reserved tattoo artist.

“You might as well just say yes,” Jonas speaks up, having caught on to your hesitation. “He won’t stop until you do,”

“Damn right.” The captain agrees, crossing his arms to further cement his point.

You’re drawn to the muscles that flex under the material of his shirt, and okay. Wow. With the way your body is heating up you would think that you’ve never been attracted to another human being in your life.

Quickly, your eyes dart back up to Nico’s, and you flush when you see he’s already caught onto your admiration of his body. He raises an eyebrow, teasing, and then you finally blurt out your response lest he call you out. “Well,” you start, clearing your throat when your voice comes out hoarse. “I guess that could be fun, yeah?”

Nico’s infectious grin at your agreement has you returning one of your own, flushed at the way you already knew your life would be a much happier one if you got to see him smile like that at you forever.

The two Devils’ players left soon after that, but not before you exchanged numbers with Nico Hischier himself while a smug Jonas watched from the background. “So I can send you the tickets when the time comes,” he’d said.

It was a perfectly believable excuse to you, but Jonas clapping his teammate on the back as if it were some kind of accomplishment had you questioning if Nico planned on texting you before their opening night.

You forced yourself to forget about it, though, in the meanwhile. You still had two more clients after they left, and you couldn’t exactly do your best work if Nico’s chiseled face and soft eyes wouldn’t leave your head.

And then a sharp pang struck your heart as you figure you’re just being delusional again. Reading too much into a situation that had no call for it, and imagining the way he looked at you like there was something behind your guarded eyes he wanted to explore.

No, you quickly put an end to your thoughts, steeling your resolve as you march back into the shelter of your shop. You aren’t putting yourself through this. Not again.

In a world of meaningless hookups and disappointing endings, you were a damaged romantic who would have once given the world if asked. But that hope for the future you envision with rose colored glasses is long gone, destroyed along with the pieces of your heart that shattered the last time you let yourself get too close to someone.

You decide then and there, with the image of Nico Hischier and his look of awe the moment he first saw you, that you weren’t going to ever grant him the ability to break you like the last person who did so years ago.

Despite the politeness he exudes, you half expect him to start making a move the moment he lands in Switzerland. You think he’ll start with a text that says, ‘Hey, how are you?’ and once you respond (because you will) he’ll send you pictures of him in his homeland, ones that require a compliment or an inquiry about what he’s doing.

You think you have him figured out. Men are predictable, you would know—their brains all work the same, and that includes how they hit on people they’re interested in.

However, you’re surprised to find that a text from him never comes. There’s no message awaiting you in between tattoo sessions, no ‘how are you’ or a picture of a ski lift or whatever it is people do in Switzerland. It irritates you because you don’t have Nico all figured out like you thought.

If you couldn’t place him into the typical group of uncommitted assholes you’d come to learn, then just who is he?

The answer escapes you for many months after. You certainly don’t text him, but you do find his Instagram after drinking one too many glasses of wine and scroll through his pictures. Nico isn’t very active online is what you gather, for his last post was back in May after they got eliminated from the playoffs.

It makes him endearing, much to your displeasure. People glued to their phones and still use Snapchat as their main form of communication irritate you to no end.

Not Nico, though…

He stays on your mind for the entirety of summer, because you just couldn’t get the memory of his eyes out of your head. It panics you a little because it feels like you’re forming a crush, and your last one didn’t exactly bode well for you.

Whatever. It’s just a small, meaningless feeling that just so happens to have stuck. Nico probably wasn’t even going to send you a ticket for opening night.

This is what you tell yourself as September rolls around, the NHL preseason starts, and your stomach sinks deeper and deeper the closer the Devils’ opening night comes.

You’re thinking about him again right now, much to your displeasure, as you finish wiping down one of your stations after your last client of the day left. It was a busy one, and you’re grumpy because your neck hurts from leaning over for so long.

You accidentally knock over your cleaning spray in the midst of your aggressive cleaning, and just as you pick up the bottle there’s a quiet knock on your shop’s door.

“I thought I flipped the closed sign,” you mutter, exiting the room you were just in and walking to the lobby. You’re unable to make out who it is outside, the only striking feature being that they’re tall.

You open the door warily, speaking before they get the chance to. “Sorry, we’re closed for the night. You can come back tomorrow morning or call to book an appointment—”

“I’m not here for a tattoo.” He interrupts you with what sounds like amusement, and you freeze because you would recognize that voice anywhere.

You look up to meet his eyes, and are struck with the same dark brown that’s been haunting your mind for months.

“Nico,” you say, shock written all over your face. You lick your lips, trying to find something to say. “You’re… What are you doing here?”

“I still have the address saved from when Siegs sent it to me,” he admits, aware that’s not what you’re really asking. Facing you now, he finds himself nervous. You hadn’t changed much, except for maybe the addition of another piercing in your right ear, he thinks.

But you were so unlike other strangers he’s met in the past; they know who he is, all about his life, whereas you look at him like you’re not sure what to think.

Nico finds it refreshing. You’re intriguing, someone to figure out—not to mention he really likes your tattoos. And piercings. He fights the urge to trail his fingers up your sleeves to reveal the art decorating your skin.

You’re raising an eyebrow at him, and then he realizes he’s been silent for a good minute while he’s been staring at you. He releases a quick breath, “You still want to come to opening night, right?”

“I do,” you say, foregoing acting coy. Fuck it, you actually did really want to go. “Why? Is there an issue?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” he reassures, giving you a quick smile. “I’d just rather explain the ticket situation in person than on text,”

His reasoning sounds understandable to you, but you fail to pick up on why he still seems so nervous. It’s just a ticket to a game, right?

“So since it’s just you,” he starts, hesitantly. “You’ll be sitting with, um. You’ll be in the wives and girlfriends section.”

Truthfully, Nico wouldn’t be shocked if you decline after hearing where you’ll be sitting. He himself probably would have, because who, as a stranger, wants to sit with the players’ significant others?

He watches your reaction, holding his breath. But all you do is laugh a little, shrug nonchalantly even though internally you’re shitting your pants.

“Okay, but you do know I’m neither a wife nor a girlfriend,” of you, you want to add, but keep that last part to yourself. Even though over the course of these last few months your mind definitely imagined it.

Your expression is teasing, the corner of your lips quirked up into a small smirk that has the tension falling from Nico’s shoulders. You aren’t mad. This is a start.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking rather sheepish. “I didn’t know if you’d be okay with that,” he mumbles lowly, meeting your eyes. If you look closely you think you can see a rosy hue covering his cheeks.

“It’s just one game, yeah?” You muse, secretly pleased at the fact that he’s the nervous one this time, not you. “Nothing wrong with that,”

Nico lets out a breathless laugh, relieved knowing you won’t be caught off guard when you come to the opening game in October.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Nothing wrong with that all.”

He stays for a few more minutes after that, your conversation surprisingly pleasant with little awkwardness as you shyly ask about his stay back home, and he gladly expresses his joy at being back in Switzerland for a few months.

His unabashed enthusiasm to share his life with you catches you off guard, but you find that you like learning these little things about him. It defeats your whole purpose of not letting yourself get close to him, but you push that worry to the back of your mind for later.

Nico does eventually leave, but not before giving you a hug that leaves your heart racing. One of his hands came to rest respectfully at the small of your back, and you could have sworn you felt his lips brush your cheek before he pulled away.

“See you soon,” he had grinned, his eyes dark and enthused.

Feeling corny and rather irritated with yourself, your fingers brush the spot on your cheek, swearing you could still feel the heat of his lips.

You still don’t hear from Nico even after his visit, and you’re once again struck by the fact that you still can't tell what his intentions are. You find yourself checking your phone anyway, going so far as to stalk his Instagram. Again.

This is most definitely becoming a bad habit. A very bad one. You think to yourself as, one day, you find yourself staring at your screen once more, weeks having gone by with the brown eyed boy still on your mind.

With another client in just over two hours, you find yourself using the break to get some work done on your laptop at the desk in the lobby of your shop. You aren’t very productive, but it makes you feel better about your wandering imagination being so distracting.

Just having happened to save a finished spreadsheet of your recent clients and their pricing, a man is pushing open the door to your shop. You quickly determine that it’s some type of delivery based on the package he carries before he drops it onto your counter.

He reads out your name from a paper, glancing up at you for confirmation of your identity. “Yes, that’s me,” you say, eyeing the unknown sender label. “Do you know who sent this?” You haven’t placed any orders recently, so it isn’t something from you.

The mailman shakes his head, giving you a polite smile before wishing you a good rest of your day. You wave to him offhandedly as he exits the shop, and then find a pair of scissors to carefully cut through the tape holding the box shut.

As if you’re opening Pandora’s box, you’re wary as you unfold the cardboard, your fingers brushing against thick fabric before carefully taking it out.

Unfolded and spread out across your desk, you freeze. You’re lucky no one else is here in the front to see you because your face is a deep shade of tomato red, and you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

Before you lay a jersey for the New Jersey Devils, and you know even before turning it over that it has Nico Hischier’s surname and number printed on the back.

As you’re staring at the jersey in awe, your fingers trailing over the brand new and surely expensive fabric, your phone pings with a new message.

It’s from a number you’d memorized months ago even though you’d never once used it to communicate. A text from Nico Hischier greets you as you unlock your phone.

UPS sent me a notification that the package I sent you arrived. I hope you like it. Looking forward to seeing you next month :)

“Oh, he’s good,” you say out loud, your smile growing even wider if that were possible. Your heart’s tempo picks up, and your fingers fly across the keyboard to respond.

You’re still not sure what he’s about—what are his plans here? Does he like you? Is he flirting for fun or does he have intentions to go forward?

You try not to overthink it as you finalize your response, pressing send soon after.

I just got it. I have to say, you’re bold. I guess I have no choice but to wear it now considering how much it probably cost you.

As if he were waiting for a response, a new message appears almost instantly.

It’s no big deal. Really. Just want to make your first game a memorable one. I’ll sign the jersey for you, too.

Careful, hot shot, I might start thinking you have other intentions here.

You wouldn’t be wrong.

September passes quickly, and before you know it October 12 is here and you’re nervously walking through Prudential Center to the section your seat is in.

You don’t stick out as much as you think you do, which is relieving because everyone around you is too focused on getting to their own seats and discussing the game.

You know you don’t fit the typical bill of someone coming to support a professional hockey player, considering what you think you are to Nico is… Complicated.

Your arms are covered in small but meaningful tattoos, and your ears are decorated with piercings along with the lone stud on your nose. You wouldn’t think someone like Nico would find it all attractive about you, but he’s said so numerous times over call and text.

You think about said communication as you finally sit down, a good thirty minutes before the game starts because nobody else is around you yet.

After Nico sent you his jersey, it’s like the floodgates opened from whatever was holding the two of you back from talking. Despite your reservations, he enraptured you from the get-go and you just couldn’t stop yourself from falling.

Nico is a really good texter, surprisingly. None of the lower case bullshit or long response times you’d expect from a sports player, but instead the exact opposite.

He doesn’t give you the feeling of talking to a child, an immature man who doesn’t know what he wants; in the time spent between him first using your number and going to the game, you’ve noticed how his responses are thought out and intentional. He responds quickly, but not too quickly to make you think he doesn’t have a career to focus on, and he makes you smile when he adds those cute smiley faces after the end of his texts.

You think you’re enjoying Nico Hischier a little too much to be normal, but you choose not to focus on that as you’re greeted by an unknown woman tapping your shoulder.

“Hi!” She says, giving you a welcoming smile that instantly puts you at ease. “Nico said he invited someone to come tonight. And Jonas,” she adds the last part like it was an afterthought, then gives you a slightly apologetic look. “He didn’t have time to tell us your name, so he just said to look for piercings and tattoos. I’m assuming that’s you?”

You’re not offended by others using your slightly unconventional looks to point you out; you’re proud of all of your piercings and the ink decorating your skin. You wouldn’t be you without them.

Slightly overwhelmed at the amount of words that just spewed from her mouth, though, you hide it well as you damper your nerves to respond. “Hi. Yeah, um, that’s me. They both - Nico and Jonas - really wanted me to come tonight.” You don’t include the fact that it was all Nico who sent you the ticket, showed up at your shop, and had been texting you nonstop for the past month.

The woman grins, seemingly relieved she had the right person. “Nico never brings anyone around so we were all pretty excited to meet you. I’m Natalie, Jonas’ girlfriend, by the way.”

Natalie is the exact type of girl you’d be expecting to date a professional hockey player. She’s blonde with a lithe figure, bright blue eyes and a face that could be on the front page of a magazine. She fits in with this crowd, not you, but you try not to let that bother you as you focus on her being the woman who makes one of your good clients happy.

Jonas has mentioned his girlfriend numerous times before, singing nothing but praises, and he’s even shown you a picture. Now that she’s in front of you, you instantly recognize her.

“I thought I recognized you,” you say. “I’m Jonas’ tattoo artist, he talks about you all the time,” maybe you were exaggerating a bit, but. Siegs wouldn’t mind. You were buttering him up to the ‘love of his life’, after all.

“He’s mentioned you too, oh my gosh, now it’s all clicking!” Natalie instantly gasps, sliding into the seat next to you. “You’re crazy talented. All of his tattoos are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you grin, a little bashful. “He’s a great guy. I enjoy working with him.”

Natalie smiles back, and soon the two of you are joined by the rest of the WAG’s as the puck drop grows closer. Just as you’re about to pull out your phone, Natalie has seemingly managed to break free from whoever she was talking to.

“So, how do you know Nico? Jonas didn’t mention much about you coming, it was mostly Neeks who asked us to greet you,”

Neeks? You file that nickname away for later, and then your face grows red because you’re not sure how to answer her question.

“We actually met because of Jonas, funny enough. He was getting his wrist shaded, right after they got eliminated from the playoffs, and he asked Nico to come pick him up from my shop when it was done.”

“I remember,” Natalie says. “We were flying to Switzerland right after he was done. Sorry, you can continue,”

“You’re good,” you chuckle. “But yeah, then Jonas mentioned how I’d never been to a game, and Nico is who managed to convince me to come tonight.” You keep it simple, vague. No need to provide a complicated answer, mostly because you didn’t know how to reply without making it seem like you and Nico hadn’t been flirting for weeks now.

She looks like she’s about to say something, but suddenly the lights are dimming and an announcer is speaking, his loud voice booming throughout the arena. The next thing you know the lights are coming back on full blast, the puck is dropped, and ten hockey players are whipping across the ice at lightning speed.

Holy shit, you want to say, the sounds of screaming fans and players slamming against the boards rather overwhelming to you but in a good way. It has your blood pumping, and while you don’t understand much of anything - like why the refs blow the whistle randomly or what certain penalties mean - you find that you’re having a good time with Natalie keeping you company, explaining things as they occur.

“That Red Wings player is going into the box which means they’re down a player, and—oh, look, there’s Nico!” She’s pointing to the ice, and you have to squint to follow her line of sight, but you quickly recognize the Swiss captain’s profile and fight the muscles in your face from breaking into a smile.

Alas, you end up losing that battle as a grin manages to fight its way onto your face anyway. You know he can’t see you from so far up, but you like to think he tries as the Jumbotron focuses on him and catches his eyes peering up into the general direction of where you’re seated.

To downplay your excitement at spotting him, you ask, “What’s Jonas’ number?”

“Seventy-one,” Natalie answers, about to say something else, but interrupts herself as she along with almost every other fan in the arena jumps up out of their seats to shout obscenities at the referees.

Yeah, you think to yourself, comically scared of the aggression these hockey fans show for their team. This will take some getting used to.

Almost three hours later, the Devils manage to secure the win for their first game of the season. They almost blew it, or that’s what you hear from others around you, but you’re just glad to have something to congratulate Nico for when you go to meet him outside the locker room.

Speaking of, you along with the other WAG’s are walking down there right now, and your nerves from before the game are coming back full-force, stomach-twisting, vomit-inducing and all.

You’re standing next to Natalie as she talks with two other girls, and you’re content to just listen because your nerves aren’t allowing you to do anything else.

Then, as if the universe were tuned into your thoughts, the locker room doors open and multiple Devils players come streaming out. They’re freshly showered, back in the suits they arrived at the arena in, and you don’t even bother to hide your eagerness as you look for Nico in the crowd.

You spot Jonas first, though, as he catches sight of Natalie and bounds over to her with open arms. “Good game,” you think she says, then says something even quieter and that’s when Jonas sees you standing next to them.

He says your name in shock before a broad smile stretches over his face. “You came!” And then he’s also bringing you into a hug, looking all too happy to have some of his favorite people surrounding him.

“I did,” you laugh, pulling back after a moment. “It was really fun to watch. I’m glad you guys won,” you kind of wince at the end, knowing their win was shaky at best, but he looks like he appreciates the humor all the same.

“Yeah, we are too,” he says, then looks as if he just remembered something. “Nico was coming out right behind me, and—oh, there he is! Neeks!” He calls his captain’s name abruptly, and you swivel around to see Nico Hischier in the flesh heading towards you.

“There you are with the nickname again,” Nico chuckles as he approaches, then embraces his friend as if they didn’t just see each other a minute ago.

When he pulls back, his eyes quickly find yours, and unlike the first time you met there’s no awkwardness as Nico gives you a wide grin before wrapping his arms around you.

“You came,” he says into the top of your hair, and you can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn’t give you time to speak before he’s pulling back only slightly, enough to see your face from below peering up at him.

You take in the sight of him above you, rendered speechless as this image of him smiling so happily will likely replay in your memory forever. Nico is pure ecstasy, delight incarnate as those dark brown eyes likely have you painted in a way you could never see yourself in.

Finally finding your words, you duck your head for a moment, embarrassed at the blush you know is on your cheeks. “I wouldn’t miss it,” you say, referring to the game. “You played great, Neeks,”

Nico playfully leans back, lightly groaning at hearing you tease his nickname. “I should’ve known they’d say that in front of you,” he sighs, but you can tell it’s in nothing but jest as his smile remains. “Thank you, though,”

And now it was his turn to be bashful, as the blood rushes to his cheeks. What a picture you’re sure the two of you were; both pairs of hands still holding the other and equally flustered expressions on your faces. You find that you don’t mind the contact, though, despite having a slight aversion to touch. Nico’s warmth is comforting, and you rather like being close to him.

It’s not until Jonas coughs loudly from behind you that you and Nico finally release your hold on one another, and you turn to see he and Natalie looking at the two of you with barely contained excitement.

You meet Nico’s eyes, both of you struggling to hide your laughs at Jonas and Natalie’s failed poker faces. “Nice assist, Siegs,” you say to break the lingering tension, and the four of you come together like you’d all been close friends for years.

As you’re all leaving the arena through the exit the players use, Jonas and Nico walk ahead of you, exchanging teasing words and lighthearted insults, while you and Natalie watch from behind.

“So,” Natalie chirps, looking at you expectantly. “What do you think?”

You’re not dumb. You know she’s asking about Nico, thinking this is the first time you’ve talked to him since you first met him at your tattoo shop.

“Hockey? Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” you say, snickering when she sighs at your avoidance. “I’ll have to go to more games.”

“Not about hockey, about Nico,” Natalie says, whispering his name as if it’s taboo. “We aren’t blind. That was a long hug, and Nico literally never brings anyone here. Ever.”

“Technically, Jonas offered to bring me to a game first,”

The spunky blonde ignores you, offhandedly waving her arm. “Semantics. He also keeps turning around to look at you. Like right now.”

What? You instantly look ahead and see she’s right, your eyes meeting Nico’s. His face turns red as he sends you a shy smile, and then he turns back to Jonas who is still talking beside him.

Natalie observes the interaction, a small grin on her face. “You’ve both been talking long before now, haven’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?” you chuckle bashfully, slightly embarrassed your interactions allow her to pick up on your chemistry so quick. She shrugs, increasing her stride to stand in front of you as you reach their cars. “A little. But I’ve known Nico for a bit now, he’s a good guy. He likes you, too, I think.”

You don’t get the chance to respond before Jonas is wrapping an arm around Natalie’s waist, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “We gotta get going, yeah? Early morning tomorrow,”

Nico’s hand is brushing against your arm as he moves to your side, unable to tell if the resulting shiver from his touch is from the slight chill in the air or just him. “We have a game in Arizona, a back-to-back,” he clarifies, answering your unspoken question.

“Ah,” you say. “That sucks.”

“Not this time. I’ll have plenty of good things to think about on the flight.” He winks at you, perfectly implying what those ‘good things’ are.

Your face turns red just as Jonas pretends to gag. “That would be our sign to leave. Right, babe?” He attempts to lead his girlfriend away, but Natalie suddenly gasps and runs back to you.

“I forgot to get your number,” she says, thrusting her phone into your hands. “We’re definitely hanging out again.” And, well, okay then. Who are you to deny her?

Jonas and Natalie drive away in his fancy sports car, which leaves you to walk Nico to his own. It’s quiet between the two of you, comforting because you’re both content to revel in each other’s company. Your hands occasionally brush - purely Nico’s fault - until he gathers the bravery to lace your fingers together just as you approach his car.

He doesn’t drop your hand, not even as he turns to face you once you come to a stop. “You have a ride home?”

You shrug sheepishly. No, you hadn’t really thought that far. “I was just planning on ubering…”

Nico scoffs, as if the very thought offends him. “Yeah, no. I’ll drive you home.” At the apprehensive look on your face, his confidence wavers slightly, and he mindlessly rubs his thumb over your hand to calm his own nerves. “If you’re okay with it, of course,”

Why does he have to be so cute? You give in instantly, the tension melting from your bones as, boldly, you use his grip on your hand to tug him closer. “That would be great, Nico, thank you.”

While his car, like Jonas’, is also expensive, you feel comfortable surrounded by the dark material and the scent of Nico’s cologne. The radio is playing softly, and he’s humming along quietly while strumming the fingers of his hand on the steering wheel. His other is resting on the gear shift, but you can tell by the way his hand keeps twitching that he wants to move it closer to you.

If you’ve learned anything about Nico within the weeks that you’ve been talking to him, it’s that he is huge on physical touch. He said it over text, but in person it’s even more obvious because his hands are rarely to himself when he’s next to you.

As the minutes go by, you finally give in to his body’s desire with a laugh as you reach over to tangle your hands together, now resting in your lap. “You really weren’t kidding when you said you liked touching, were you?”

Even with the darkness surrounding him, you can easily spot the maroon flush blooming across his cheeks. He briefly looks to you, unable to hide his grin before turning his attention back to the road. “No,” he laughs, gripping your hand reflexively like he’s testing out the contact. “I wasn’t.”

You’re both significantly more loose after you give in to your want for the other, and the rest of the ride is silent save for the occasional song lyrics mumbled by Nico. Almost too quickly he’s pulling into the parking lot of your apartment complex, and you’re disappointed when your hands release as you climb out of the car.

“Can I walk you to your door?”

“Sure.”

Like the car ride, the walk to your apartment is comfortably silent, and this time Nico doesn’t hesitate when taking your hand. He smiles when you shiver, but doesn’t say anything which you appreciate.

The elevator is stopping at your floor almost too soon, and you find yourself not wanting the night to end. You’re enjoying his company far too much, and you really like holding his hand. Imagining yourself doing this on a regular basis is overwhelming and definitely freaks you out a little once you come to a stop at your door.

“Here I am,” you chuckle, a little awkwardly. So… What do you do now? Thank him? Hug him? Kiss him?

You go to say something, anything… But Nico beats you to it. “Thank you for coming tonight,” he says, squeezing your hand. “I couldn’t see you from the ice, but I liked trying to pretend I could see you watching me.” He winks, then, and you don’t bother denying that yes, you were watching him the entire time.

You still try to be humble, though. “Thank you for getting me a ticket,” you say, trying to decide how forward you should be. His eyes sparkle, though, as you talk, like he can’t get enough of your voice… “All the girls were nice. Welcoming. It was fun pretending I was one of them.”

“I want you to be,” Nico blurts, almost breathless. “‘One of them’, that is. I think I like you,” he laughs like he can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

You’re unable to take your eyes off him, those dark brown of his bearing into you. The color is warm, just like Nico because he reminds you of a summer day and if he's the sun, then you’re a mere leaf desperately searching for his light.

“I think I like you too,” you admit, a little quieter, a little shy. You still don’t like being touched, but as his hands come to cup your cheeks you decide that you do like the feel of his calloused skin against yours, and then he’s dipping his head to capture your lips in a kiss you don’t know you’ve been waiting for.

You melt instantly, sighing into his mouth with relief. Nico’s kisses are long and smooth, and you’re happy to let him lead before he’s pulling back all too soon, his beard scruff leaving the skin around your lips burning pleasantly.

Fluttering eyes open, leaving you with the distinct feeling of coming up from underwater. Nico looks just as elated as you feel, gazing at you from dark brown eyes filled with adoration. His thumb runs across your bottom lip, and then he’s stepping back respectfully.

“I’ll call you when I get back to my place, yeah?” He says, and you’re glad he seems just as eager to continue talking as you are.

“Yeah, that… That works,” English has left your head, and you stumble over what to say next. Nico has left you speechless, literally. “Drive safe.”

He flashes you a blinding smile, and then disappears back into the elevator.

“Oh fuck,” you say to the emptiness of the corridor. “Fuck. I’m so fucked.”

Nico calls you when he gets home, just like he said he would. He also calls you the day after that and the day after that, and when he can’t call because of a game or practice or whatever, he’s texting you.

You’re swept up in the world of Nico Hischier; his friends have become your (albeit, surface) friends, Natalie has taken you under her wing, and as the weeks go by you’re regularly attending games in the WAG section.

There’s no label on your relationship, and while you like that you’re taking this slow, there's still this desire to kiss him in front of everyone after a game won, to show the hockey world that this man, this man right here is yours.

You don’t act on it, though, as much as you may want to. You have this fear that because your appearance isn’t so conventional, that Nico would get hate for being seen with you. Everyone around you subtly hints that this fear of yours is irrational, but you know better.

As the new year comes and goes - it’s the best way you’ve spent new years in forever because Nico kisses you right as the clock strikes twelve, under the flashing lights and his cheering teammates around you - the Devils’ season continues to dominate. They’re projected to make the playoffs again, and you’re going to just about every game now to show your support.

What you don’t realize is that the fans’ scrutiny of the players only grows the closer the end of the regular season comes, and their attention also shifts to the significant others. WAG playoff jackets are apparently a thing, and you hear from Natalie how the designs for this year are already in the works.

Nico hinted one night that he wanted you to wear one by mentioning he can’t wait to see you when they’re in the playoffs. You gave him a slight look of suspicion because he said it in a way like he’s anticipating something, but he only shrugged cheekily when you tried prying.

Everything comes to an ugly head, though, when you discover hockey Twitter. You’ve obviously known of the app, but you only download it when you hear how the hockey coverage is extensive and you decide you want to keep up with all NHL news more easily.

That’s when you stumble across a term called ‘puck bunnies’, and how there are accounts dedicated to the players’ dating lives with information as trivial as who they’re being spotted with.

Anxiety takes control one night when you’re scrolling through a gossip page, and you succumb to the urge to search Nico’s name. To your horror, there are posts mentioning how a new person (you) has joined the WAG’s at games, and fans have spotted him leaving with this new person consistently.

You can’t find anything mentioning your identity, but you do find criticisms of your appearance. A lot of them. And, really, you knew this was going to happen, it was just a matter of when. The thought doesn’t comfort you, though, as your stomach drops when past girlfriends of Nico are brought up.

They’re all blondes, the occasional brunette, too. Of course they are. You figure anyways that part of the reason you were so intriguing to him to begin with is because you’re so unlike anyone he’s ever dated before. It still doesn’t make you feel better.

You have unconventional piercings, tattoos and quite a lot of them, and you don’t have the money to splurge on expensive clothing like these models do. A word a lot of these hateful posts use is ‘downgrade’, and your insecurities start to agree.

Why does Nico even like you? What do you have that these other girls don’t? From the looks of it, you’re the first of, well, you that he’s ever dated.

You hate it. You hate all of it. Twitter, stupid puck bunnies (how demeaning, too?), your incredibly strong feelings for Nico, and the thought that you aren’t good enough for him.

Now, what you should be doing is calling him. Hell, even Natalie. You know you need to talk to someone about what you’ve found, get some reassurance that the online gossip is purely just that: gossip.

But, well, you’ve never been reasonable. Anxiety and overthinking has ruled your life since you could talk. Instead, you stay silent, stew in your self-loathing and scroll through more of the disgusting Twitter thread.

You let these strangers’ words get to you, their biting insults swimming around in the back of your mind over the next few days all while everyone else is none the wiser.

Especially Nico, who thinks everything is fine until it isn’t. He’s busy with the team, leading with a grace only a captain could possess, and playing his heart out every game to ensure their spot in the postseason. He thinks your distance is because you know how busy he is and simply just don’t want to bother him.

Which, he appreciates you respecting his career, but your shortened responses, curt replies, and frequent denials to come to his games start to signal warning sirens in his head. You aren’t an open book by any means, but this… Nico finds it startling. He knows something is wrong.

So he pries. He texts you more than normal, during video reviews where he’s supposed to be paying attention to replays and right after practices, too. One could say he’s being overbearing, and in the midst of all your self-loathing and depressive overthinking, you snap.

Nico had kept texting you, over and over again, asking for your schedule over the next few days along with continuously asking about when you could see him next. Your fingers moved faster than you could think, and then you pressed send on a message you keep telling yourself you don’t regret.

I just don’t have time, Nico, jesus. Let it go.

The read receipt had appeared under the message less than a minute later, and not another text came through. You’d most definitely had a slight mental breakdown, wanted to call him and apologize and kiss away the frown you’re sure is marring his beautiful lips, but you try convincing yourself it’s for the best.

You don’t deserve all the good that Nico Hischier brings into your life. He’s far too good for you—everyone else seems to think so, too.

And so, that’s that. Nico doesn’t text you anymore and you certainly don’t text him. You’d burned that bridge with no hesitation, and any sparks that were growing between you are certainly extinguished now. This is what you tell yourself, anyways, even as you still can’t stop yourself from tuning into the Devils games over the next few days.

You throw yourself into your work, even more than before. You switch around scheduling for different clients, place multiple sessions right after the other so the buzz of your tattoo gun is too loud for you to think of anything else.

It works, for a time. But you can only do it for so long, and it doesn’t stop you from watching recaps of Nico nor does it keep you from noticing how off-kilter he seems. You’ve come to realize that whenever the captain is off, so is the rest of the team, and the Devils go on a losing streak over the next two weeks that kills you almost as much as you’re sure it’s killing them.

You still don’t contact him, though. You keep your distance, avoid the bars you know they frequent and dodge Natalie’s attempts at meeting up, too. You’re sure she knows you and Nico aren’t talking, either because of how badly he’s playing or because Jonas told her, and you don’t want to give her an opportunity to pry.

And Nico, well. He’s very obviously a mess. He’s snappy, overwhelmed, angry at the littlest things; he broke his stick against the wall during one practice because Jack had passed him a puck, but Nico botched the play just like everything else in his life, apparently.

A perk about being the captain is that none of his teammates have the guts to come up to him to bluntly ask him what’s wrong. On the other hand, his teammates follow his lead to a T, which means that as a result of his foul mood and horrible playing, their spot in the standings has noticeably suffered.

You don’t leave his head, not when he’s in the middle of a game or lying wide awake in his bed until the early hours of the morning. Many times he contemplates breaking the barrier you’d put between the two of you, to ask what he did and if there’s anything he can do to fix it. Nico thinks it’s his fault, that maybe he came off as too clingy…

He knows of your past, knows you’re so wary to jump into relationships for a reason, and figures he just did something to scare you back into seclusion.

The abrupt silence between the two of you builds, and Nico is so frustrated with himself and with you that when they play a division rival, the Philadelphia Flyers, his pent-up aggravation is released and he plays the best hockey he’s probably ever played before in his life.

Nico has never done drugs, but he’s positive the adrenaline pumping through his veins is similar to the rush of dopamine one would feel right after. He’s high off the elation of winning, and it gives him the courage to finally do something about the mounting irritation from his lack of contact with you.

He leaves the rock as soon as he’s able, breaks a few traffic laws in his haste to get to your shop as quickly as possible. It’s a long shot, showing up this late at night on a Friday, but he knows your habits and he knows you.

As he swerves into a parking spot, his gut tells him he’s right. You’re here. You have to be.

Unfortunately for you, Nico is right. You are, in fact, holed up alone in your shop, postponing the lonely ride to your lonely apartment in place of searching for something to do.

You watched the Devils game in the midst of distracting yourself, because of course you did. You saw how the players’ growing frustration led to pure determination that ultimately secured them the win.

You’re proud of them. Proud of Nico. You want to text him, do something, but… then there’s rapid knocking on the doors, and you’re peeking around the corner to catch a glimpse of the likely drunkard trying to break in.

You’re about to just wave them off, gesture towards the sign hanging on the window you know is switched to close, but the man outside speaks and you’re frozen.

“Please, baby, let me in,” the voice is laced with pure desperation, and oh, now you can see him as clear as day. He mouths your name through the glass, and you don’t have the strength to send him away.

You reluctantly unlock the door, shying away from his touch when he tentatively puts a hand on your arm. Nico is having none of it, though, and quickly grabs your hand to tug you back towards him. He’s had enough of your silence, isn’t going to let you walk away so easily this time.

When you don’t meet his eyes, he lets out a heavy breath, squeezes your hand once, then, “What the fuck is going on?” and you’re still silent, still avoidant, refusing to look up at his face. He says your name, voice anguished as he begs again, “Talk to me, please?”

You dodge his questions. “Why are you here, Nico?”

Nico reads your body language, watches as you refuse to meet his eyes and finally break away from his touch. He realizes he still affects you, and that you pushing him away is purely because you’re in your own head and don’t know how to get out of it

“Did you see my game?” Nico eventually asks, realizing he has to approach this gently, like you’re a wounded animal and in a sense, you are.

You did, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. (He knows, anyway). So you just shrug, pretending to fiddle with the random shit on your desk.

“So that’s a yes,” Nico mutters to himself. Then, he speaks up, louder, so he knows you hear him. “I scored a goal tonight.” he pauses, waits for your reaction.

You look up then, only for a moment, squinting your eyes in what looks to be a glare. “Congratulations.”

The way you look at him screams paranoid, insecure, and suddenly Nico is hit with the memory of a conversation he had with a fan a few days ago. She was young, in her early teens and certainly not out of highschool so he didn’t take her gossip too seriously, but…

“You guys are so cute!” he remembers her squealing, shoving her phone in his face. It was a blurry picture of the two of you holding hands walking out of the arena, that much he remembers. “Everyone’s hating on them online but they’re all just jealous you’re taken now.”

Nico had been signing her jersey when she said that. He raised an eyebrow, was tuning her out slightly. “Hating? On Twitter? Shocking,” he had laughed. “Does anyone take them seriously?”

The girl - whose name he now doesn’t remember - had shrugged. “A few obsessed people, yeah. Don’t go on Twitter if you want to keep your sanity. I’d tell your… friend that, too.”

Except he didn’t. Her words went through one ear and right out the other, and it’s like a halo of light just lit up his head because oh, Nico understands now, and he feels his stomach dropping over the thought that you’ve been living with this for weeks now.

Nico scoffs at your sass but it sounds more like a laugh. He knows what to do, now. “Signed a few fans’ jerseys after the game, and then I remembered an interesting conversation with this one girl a few games back. It was really enlightening. Wanna know what she said?”

You know what’s coming. You’ve already seen what people say about your rumored relationship with Nico, and you think he’s just telling you this to definitively end whatever you started with each other.

Words escape you, but what does manage to come out is a choked up, “Not really”, under your breath.

“She said people talked about us online. Were saying a bunch of bullshit about how you ‘aren’t my type’ and that I’m too good for you. Can you believe that?”

Nico takes a few cautious steps towards you, leans over your desk to gauge your reaction. He sees the light sheen in your eyes, the way your hands tremble as you attempt to look like you aren’t hanging on to his every word.

But Nico sees right through you. He understands immediately, in that moment, why you’re pushing him away, and it breaks his heart into a million pieces.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, softly. “You didn’t think I agreed with them, did you?”

You try to respond, but you cut yourself off by letting out a sob as the overwhelming emotions catch up to you.

Nico immediately rounds the desk, his own eyes tearing up as he wraps his muscular arms around your body in a protective hug. You’re shaking as you bury your head into his neck, spurting apology after apology.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”

“I know,” he shushes, one hand running through your hair while the other rubs soothing circles on your back. “I know. It’s okay,”

“Why don’t you hate me? You should hate me,”

“I could never hate you.”

You don’t let go of Nico, not even as he slides down the wall with you in his arms. It’s behind your desk, so you’re hidden from view. The thought that he did this on purpose so you can break down in peace only makes you cry harder, and yet he doesn’t falter in his comfort.

“Is this why you went silent on me?” He eventually asks, gently, so as to not startle you. “Because of… Twitter?”

You nod imperceptibly, feeling rather embarrassed now that it’s said out loud how much online gossip has bothered you. It wasn’t just because of that, though. “It’s stupid, I know—”

“No, no it’s not. Your feelings aren’t stupid.” He says immediately. “I’m sorry you found those things online. I wish you would’ve told me, or something, that way I could’ve reassured you,”

“I should have,” you say. You almost lost him, this person you care about so deeply. “You scare me so much, though, you know?”

Nico jerks, aghast. “No, no, not like that,” You reassure, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “I mean… What I feel for you scares me. Like it’s too good to be true,”

You’re nervous to continue, but then his fingers begin tracing the tattoos on your arms and you shiver because of an entirely new reason, other nerves forgotten.

“And, I don’t know. I guess I was looking for reasons to doubt… Us. Which is wrong, I know. And then I found the Twitter thread, and I let their words confirm what I was already thinking.”

One of his hands trails up the back of your neck, gently massages the skin there for a moment, and is then carefully smoothing over some of your older piercings, admiring how the jewelry looks against your skin. He’s working to calm you down, and it’s working because you then realize you've forgotten how to speak.

“Um,” you swallow, throat dry. “You’re here, though,” you finish lamely, finally meeting his eyes in awe.

“I am.” He affirms. The hand on your arm joins the other to cup your face, and then your eyes flutter shut as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “And I’m not going anywhere, yeah? Not unless you tell me to fuck off. ”

“Okay,” you whisper, assured and now content as his arms go back to curling you into his chest. “Okay. Sounds good.” And then a thought strikes you, like the deprivation of his life you’ve been forcing yourself to deal with has had enough. “When’s your next game?”

Nico’s face breaks out into a beautiful smile, one that takes your breath away. “There’s one at home next Thursday,” he says. “I think Natalie might hurt me if I tell her that you’re still too busy, so does this mean you’ll come?”

“Can’t have that now, can we?” you murmur, matching his grin. “But yeah, yeah, I’ll go,” and back to cool nonchalance you go, unable to take the love rushing through you.

Finally, you find the strength to lift yourself off the floor. He immediately grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together. As you stand in the middle of your shop, smiling goofily at each other, he looks nervous again, and his thumb smooths over the back of your hand reflexively.

“I’ve missed you,” Nico admits, looking down at you shyly. “Didn’t realize how much I liked having you in my life.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, genuinely upset with yourself for shutting him out. “I missed you too. A lot.”

“So we’re good now, then?” he looks anxious, like he thinks he still did something wrong. “You’ll talk to me next time?”

“We’re good. I’ll talk to you,” you swear. And you’re serious this time. It hurt you just as much as it hurt him to fall out of contact for weeks. Terrifyingly enough, you’re sure it’s because you’re falling in love with him.

You’ll hold back from saying those three words for a little while longer, though.

“So,” you say after a moment. “Catch me up? On everything I missed?”

He grins again, and you think it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on. “Can we recap back at my place?” At the suggestive look on your face his face quickly turns red. “I just miss having you in my bed,” he mumbles, and at your laugh just starts dragging you to the door.

“Wait, wait, I need to lock up!” Nico playfully groans, squeezes your hips with a mocking “hurry up” and then you’re running out onto the busy streets of New Jersey like two reckless teenagers looking to elope.

It’s healing, freeing, and dangerous all at once because you can’t stop giggling and Nico can’t stop kissing you, and as you look at his face outlined by the red of a stoplight you think, I could fall in love with him.

You’re sure he’ll catch you when you hit the bottom, too.

A/N: I was planning on including smut but since I wrote this with a gender neutral reader not even I could make that work LMAO regardless, I hope you still enjoyed! I haven’t written a 10k+ fic in a while so I had a lot of fun with this one. As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated <3

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[princessbrunette]

okok line cook jj who is absolutely obsessed with the new doe eyed pretty smile waitress. she’s always so nice and patient with the crew even if they’re behind, getting yelled at ect. they flirt and she always gets all blushy and shy, and he just loves it. one day she ends up in the kitchen teary eyed and covered in coffee from an angry customer and jj just looses his shit cause his girl is obviously upset and even possibly hurt and how dare they.

this anon had my tummy hurting and everything like omg i love it sm .

he’d fall for you as soon as he’d lay eyes on you.

jj definitely didn’t have a type and his track history was living proof— however, with all the girls he’d hooked up with in the past they tended to be a little on the sassier side, confident, bites back and can handle the loud mouth that belongs to none other than the man himself— but he’d never felt deeply for any of them, happy to part ways with them when the fun was all over. you however, you were something else entirely.

it was like watching a baby deer trying to learn how to walk when you were brought into the restaurant as the new waitress hire. clearly you’d had no idea just how busy the beachside restaurant got, but you’d tried to adapt quickly. for the first few weeks you were skittish, dropping the occasional plate, tripping over extended legs from tables and forgetting a couple of orders — but surely enough the customers took a liking to you anyway. of course they did, you were adorable, polite, pretty and young — you could have set the place on fire and your manager would probably have let you off with a slap on the wrist.

jj was dead set on getting to know you, hell— he’d even consider himself your guide, befriending you and helping you out whenever he could. he’d have your order ready first everytime, greeting you with a wink that flustered you as he’d carefully hand you the plate and watch you shuffle off to find the corresponding table. he’d gently manoeuvre you out the way with hands on your hips when he needs to get behind you in the busy kitchen on chaotic shifts, smirking to himself at the way you get all doe eyed and embarrassed whenever he did it. it never took much to fluster you, and your sweetness had apparently been just what JJ had craved.

he noticed you started to come to him for everything, and it made his heart swell with pride. toeing nervously into the kitchen during a quieter shift, not many of the staff around that evening. “excuse me, jj?” he remembers your polite voice calling from behind him as he chops some bell peppers. he’s wiping his hands on his apron as he glances over his shoulder at you before turning around fully, giving you his full attention.

“yeah?” he breathes, almost silenced by how pretty you are.

“sorry to disturb you but theres some guys arguing really loud in the restaurant and i think they’re gonna fight and the security guy isn’t in today… dont really know what to do…” you shrug, clammy hands subconsciously playing with your work uniform. he could tell whatever had happened out there has made you uncomfortable, not a fan of confrontation or big scary men yelling. he’s quick to nod, tossing the dish-cloth he was about to wipe the surface with over his shoulder and placing a hand on your arm, looking down at you reassuringly.

“hey, you’re good, i’ll handle it, yeah?” he nods, brushing past you briskly and out the kitchen doors into the restaurant. it was night time, so the restaurant overlooking the beach only had a few customers dotted around eating their meals, equally disturbed by the loud quarrel the two seemingly tipsy men were having. you follow him to the door, watching him saunter out toward them without a care in the world. you liked that about jj, he wasn’t scared of nothing.

“alright ladies, pack it up. go kiss n’make up somewhere else, bein’ waaay too loud and i don’t think these people paid for dinner and a show.” he waves them off, the two men standing at their table having their argument.

“stay outta this kid, i ain’t going nowhere ‘til he gives me what he owes me!” one of them barks back, slamming his fist down on the table making you jump as the cutlery clatters. JJ doesn’t flinch in the slightest, stepping up closer.

“yeah, i wasn’t asking. you’re disturbing my waitress and quite frankly you’re pissing me off, so again, i’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” you pushed down the way ‘my waitress’ made you feel, knowing he was likely just throwing it out there without meaning.

“you think i give a fuck ‘bout how ‘ya waitress feels? we’re doing business here. why don’t you go back to the kitchen, huh?” the other man waves him off, and you see his eyes flutter in irritation a little at the mention of you. he locks his eyes on the man, oddly calm and steps closer, staring him down.

“i’m not askin’ again. leave.” JJ warns.

“or what, blondie?”

“or I beat the shit out of you and your little friend.”

you were happy your manager wasn’t in that evening, because JJ would have gotten in lots of trouble. like that one day, a few weeks later during an afternoon shift, patrons from the nearby golf course having swarmed in for their lunch. JJ had been chatting away with another cook in the kitchen at his post, laughing and swatting eachother with the dish rags when the doors swung open, making him double take when he’d clocked on that it was you. your eyes didn’t find his with a bright smile and fluttery eyelashes like they always did, in fact you didn’t look at him at all. upon further inspection, your uniform was drenched with brown liquid, assumably coffee even dripping from the ends of your hair. your bottom lip wobbled as you headed toward the cloakroom through the back.

JJ’s smile fell off his face and he chased after you, skidding to a stop infront of you as he places both hands on your shoulders.

“hey, hey what happened out there?” he speaks gently, gentler than you hear him speak with the other cooks anyway.

“some guys coffee was cold, so— so he dumped it on me. i’ll be fine, just— just need to change my clothes and go and clean up the mess out there and—” youre wiping your tears off your cheeks, mortified, and when you open your eyes again JJ’s no longer right there, the only sign of his existence being the sight of the kitchen door swinging. you curiously follow, standing in the doorway like you did last time. his eyes had scanned the room, quickly honing in on the older, sweaty Kook in an ugly polo loudly complaining about the ‘help’ with a puddle of coffee beside his table.

he didn’t think, striding over, lips pressed in a firm line. he grabs the man by his collar and yanks him with such a force out of his seat that his chair tips back and falls, skidding along the polished wooden floor. gasps ring around the restaurant, an imaginary spotlight shining on the blonde as he grips the man with white knuckles, looking down his nose at the flailing Kook struggling to get his footing.

“you think it’s okay to humiliate my waitress, huh? you think that shits all sweet? someone oughta teach you—” he’s hissing between grit teeth with a trembling voice when the security guard runs over to tear him off.

“maybank.” the officer warns with a knowing tone and JJ lets the man go, not without shoving him back by the chest first, a spiteful, quick adrenaline fuelled laugh leaving him as he did so.

“yeah, nah, we’re all good. get this asshat out of here though.” he backs off, letting the guard escort the shaken man away to the exit, probably profusely apologising on JJ’s behalf. he pants, watching him leave before looking around at the entire restaurants eyes on him, staring in shock. he scratches his cheek before holding up his hand. “hope y’all are enjoying the food.” he calls out, making eye contact with your manager who stands leaning against the bar with her arms crossed, shaking her head at him. he swears under his breath, before storming back toward the kitchen, not even glancing at you as he storms past you, knowing he’s in trouble.

he heads towards the staff cloakroom, yanking his apron off and beginning to punch the code into his locker, clearly deciding the best way to deal with this was to take off. you follow him, standing in the doorway.

“jj, you shouldn’t have done that.” you scold him softly, watching him screw up his apron and stuff it into his locker, rooting around for his stuff.

“yeah, well i did, so…” he doesn’t turn to acknowledge you, still out of breath with a noncommittal tone.

“you’re… you’re gonna get in trouble. i don’t want you to get fired.”

he suddenly turns to you when you approach at his side. “you think i want that either?” he snaps before softening, seeing the way your eyes widened in hurt confusion. “i’m sorry. i… i just don’t like how these assholes get to roam around and do what they want. they can direct all that shit towards me, i don’t care, i can take it…” he takes off his backwards hat, raking his hands through his hair. “but… but not you! they don’t get to talk to you like that. someone’s gotta show them, you know?” he rants and you soften, stepping closer.

“thank you.” is all you say, pressing your hands to his shoulders and standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. you offer him a small smile, before turning around and heading back toward the door. you turn before you leave, his body still twisted towards you as he watches you in awe, suddenly a lot calmer. “no one’s made me feel safe like you do, jj.” you state before heading away.

he sighs, turning back toward his locker and leaning his forehead against the cool metal, screwing his eyes shut for a moment just breathing. when he turns back around, you’re gone, replaced by the disapproving glare of your manager.

“you wanna talk about what just happened?” she tilts her head.

“well, no— but i feel like i don’t really have a choice.” he forces a fake smile. it was gonna be a long day for jj.

[howiscallmewhateveridctaken]

Lmfaooo what a week 😅

So a lot of people are, understandably, leaving the fandom. Drama like this always tends to put people off and unfortunately that affects the media they’ve come to love. I’m not going to be one of those people bc honestly, I don’t even know if I was ever that “in” the fandom in the first place to even leave it. My account isn’t and never was a nevermore account, yes I’ve made a few nevermore post but those were infrequent and amongst posts and reblogs of multiple other fandoms. I’m also in the discord server but I’ve only ever been a lurker, and usually only ever go in it when I want more context to something I’ve seen on tumblr. With that being said however, I still plan on reading nevermore when (or if) it continues because in THIS particular instance I can easily separate art from the artist and I’ll explain why in a moment.

Like I said I’m not and never have been very active in the fandom. I learned about this drama through a post from an account I follow and went through the server to find more context. I was not present through any of the actual conflicts but I’ve seen the conversations.

So why am I commenting on this?

Well mainly I want to make a point about para social relationships as well as moderation of servers and fandoms as a creator.

I just want to preface this by saying that after reading through all possible context, perspectives, takes and evidence I could find or come across, I genuinely don’t think red is necessarily a bad/morally wrong person. I DO however think she is in the wrong in this situation especially due to how she handled everything. As for how a lot of people are reacting to everything, there’s a couple of things I’d like to note:

From what I’ve seen, all of this is just one big thing of “he said/she said” and pointing fingers as well as just picking sides. If your absolutely distraught because red didn’t turn out to be the person you thought they were simply because she said things you didn’t like, I understand the disappointment and frustration but please remember that content creators in general aren’t your friends. You don’t know these people, they just do things you happen to like. Now I’m not saying you SHOULDN’T feel upset about it, it’s ok to and you even should if it’s an issue to you feel strongly about but please keep in mind that this isn’t a “sign of their true colors” or anything because you don’t know what they were actually like to begin with. Ofc I don’t mean that to say “expect the worst from people” but more as a reminder that can hopefully help you to look at the situation more critically and logically before jumping in guns blazing. It’s understandable if it affects you emotionally, you were emotionally invested in their work; but please realize this before you let it get to that point. Now on the other side of the coin, there’s the people who I feel as though will just pick the creators side simply because they’re fanboys and will stand by them no matter what. I’m DEFINITELY NOT saying that’s what everyone who’s on red side is, but naturally there’s bound to be a few that are going to dickride for the sake of dickriding. Regardless, there’s a lack of willingness to listen and understand from both sides (at least from what I’ve noticed) and that’s a problem because when no one wants to listen then what’s supposed to be a community coming together to resolve an issue just turns into a giant flame war. Also this should go without saying, but at least give the mods a chance. They obviously handled the whole situation horrendously but they aren’t going to do their jobs any better when they’ve got people coming at them with pitchforks.

Speaking of the moderators. I genuinely can’t wrap my head around how red and the other mods have managed to fumble this badly…….like it’s almost funny. All said and done they all had ONE very simple job and they blew it. Although I very much disagree with it, I do understand red’s decision to unban crimson. They wanted to give them a second chance, sure whatever. What I DONT GET is why would they not at the very least check to see if anyone else would be comfortable with a decision that would possibly affect them or even impact their safety. At the very least a warning to or a discussion with the victims would have been something. Not only that but even after they unban them, once red saw the NUMEROUS amount of people that were upset about it they, they should have immediately banned them again and then apologize after instead of some rushed explanation. But I get it stress gets the better of you. I understand their desire to keep things as transparent as possible (which i appreciate and I’m sure so do many others) but from that first apology/explanation it felt more like red trying to shake responsibility off themselves and pointing fingers in the guise of being transparent. I did see where red was trying to get at in her first statement, but there was also things that she honestly should have just had the foresight to realize wouldn’t put her in a better light, and this is aside from the victim blaming-esque wording. red basically says that she felt like a group of people (including Laci the one who reported crimson) were just out to get crimson, which is absolutely insane but then again it’s the internet so who knows. However it’s super clear that Laci obviously wasn’t lying bc the things she accused crimson of did in fact happen. So even bringing that up was enough for me to raise my eyebrow at but I digress. Then red practically says it was hard to handle the situation bc the evidence provided was censored, but Laci literally offered to give the uncensored versions so that was completely disingenuous on red’s part at best. To me it just seemed like the mods were looking for excuses for what could be there own laziness at best and negligence at worst. Their biggest fault so far is not being very good at actually listening to their audience and taking them into consideration. She also brought up that fact that Laci was apparently the only person to report crimson which I did not like to say the least. One of the victims confided in Laci and Laci brought it forward. I understand reds suspicions about Laci not being in the actual server where it happened but how are you going to immediately jump to “well why did no one else bring it up” instead of stopping for a sec and thinking “ hm clearly these victims feel uncomfortable stepping forward”. Which they had to do now anyway because of how bad the issue became. They should not have had to do that. Better it be just one person reporting, even if it’s someone you don’t like, than no one reporting and the issue persists under the radar.

And then there’s red’s formal apology…

First off, girl why are you dropping names??? A bunch of who are supposedly minors? Like let’s be so fucking for real right now😭

And then the audacity to be like “please don’t go after or dm these people” like babes if you were genuinely worried about them you wouldn’t have used their names at all. ESPECIALLY when in the end it was completely irrelevant and borderline inappropriate since it really had nothing to do with crimson, their actions or how you handled them. Not to mention the act of calling them “cliques” when literally all they were was side servers. Like if they’re cliques then what does that make red and everyone who’s on her side? It was very clearly just a biased reaction to people saying things she doesn’t like about her, which by all means she has the right to respond to but not in a way that is clearly trying to sway how everyone else sees them. The way red describes everything is as if it’s middle school drama and then proceeds to play directly into it. Don’t get me wrong her apology was fine, when she was ACTUALLY apologizing. Everything else felt like a last ditch effort to drag others under the bus with her. It was lowkey embarrassing to say the least.

Again, it’s important that I make it clear that I don’t believe red is a bad person. I just think she’s an immature person, or at least she is in how she handled everything and continues to handle it bc like I said I don’t know her, and don’t care to frankly. I didn’t start reading nevermore to be buddy buddy with her. Like if we look at the grand scope of things, this is a grown woman beefing with kids. Obviously they aren’t all kids, most of them aren’t I believe but she’s practically stooping down to school yard conflict in how she’s responded so far. Especially at one point in the server when she was being called out and jumped to “yeah I guess I’m the bad guy and totally evil. You all should hate me”. Like actually cut that shit out, what are you doing. I mean honestly.

And my final point because I’ve ranted long enough. I mentioned before that in this instance I am willing to separate the art from the artist, I stand by that because I genuinely do think this is a situation where red could hopefully grow from this and rectify things. The actual unbanning was a stupid and inconsiderate move on her part, but I don’t think she meant any ill-will or had any malicious intent. I disagree with the people calling her a r@pe apologist because that’s honestly just a huge reach. I’ve also seen some accusations of red and/or Flynn being racist, promoting inappropriate art knowing there’s minors around and from what I’ve seen it’s pretty iffy. Regarding the racism, I don’t believe that they are. Their characterizations of the characters regarding their ethnicities IS stereotypical and was obviously just very surface level research into those respective cultures but I chopped that up to ignorance rather than racism. As a woc I was frankly just relived they didn’t make the poc characters centered on some kind of discrimination or tragedy from their era, which yes is something that shouldn’t be ignored but also I don’t know if rednflynn could accurately and more importantly, respectfully portray those types of issues. Nor is it even their place tbh. With that being said however I don’t belong to most of the cultures the characters belong to. To me it never seemed like they were making a caricature out of these cultures, especially since their ethnicities are barely relevant to their stories anyway but I acknowledge that it’s not my place to deem what’s offensive or not.

As for the promoting inappropriate art of the characters and creating some themselves. Yeah they do. I’ve never been shocked about that nor did I think it was something that they are wrong for doing, I mean it’s their own work. Granted I didn’t realize how many minors were in the fandom but that’s literally every fandom, there’s only so much you could do about it. I don’t know if nevermore has a rating but it’s not like it was something ever promoted to be kid friendly, it’s obvious that some scenes are just straight up fan service. While I personally don’t like fan service it never was enough to impact the story so I personally never saw an issue. But point is I don’t think they should have to monitor what is and isn’t appropriate for minors but things get tricky when they have a server where they are clearly aware of minors.

And then there’s other things like people accusing them of promoting SA or some shit like that bc of a lot of stuff involving Montessor which frankly, that’s just a media literacy issue on the readers part. So yeah with that being said I don’t think red is a bad person, although I understand why a lot of people are done with them which is completely fair. I’m pretty much in a grey area about it, who knows if they end up getting in an even bigger scandal, hopefully they come out better from this but only time will tell. The best/smartest thing red has said throughout this entire debacle was that they’re taking a step back from the fandom. I think it’ll be good for everyone, especially them. It seems like it’ll take stress off them anyway. Plus the hole they’ve dug for themselves is already halfway to china by now so there’s that

[iridescent-flowers]

Con La Brisa (Leviathan x GN!Reader)

Leviathan x Reader

Tags: Romantic fluff, takes place on the beach and in water

Word Count: 2,849

Summary:

With the new skill you recently mastered, you plan to surprise Levi with a date underwater.

[✨Likes, Comments & Reblogs are supper appreciated!✨]

Notes: This work is also available on Ao3, feel free to leave kudos, comment or read there if you prefer Ao3 more ❤️

I forgot to add this in the original Ao3 post, but I was really inspired by the song from underwater scene in wakanda forever. So, I'd play the song on loop every time I was writing this. Feel free to give it a listen before, after, or during your reading session.

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

It’s been a while since you and Levi last saw each other for reasons that he understood as well. For one, you were up in The Human World, tending to your regular life while you were on a break from the student exchange program. And for another, there were certain duties you had to fulfill as Solomon’s most promising apprentice. In other words, Solomon was keeping you very busy with the lessons he provided as your mentor. Admittedly, it made Leviathan feel a bit upset, but he would always feel better upon receiving your calls and messages. It made him even happier when you would do co-op with him, just the two of you.

This time around, you were reaching out for the most unexpected reason paired with a quite off-putting request:

“Levi! Let's go to the beach this Saturday! Solomon gave me the day off and I thought it'd be lovely to do some swimming!”

Leviathan was speechless… no… he was frozen. This is the first time you asked to do something so extroverted. It's quite difficult to think of any proper response.

“I don't know about going to the beach, MC…”

“Oh, I know you might be worried about other people in the place, but I promise there's a private part of the beach we're headed to. I figured I'd take you there because I also have a surprise to show you!” The smiley face at the end of the text made Levi think twice about rejecting the idea. Maybe it's overthinking, but he has this feeling that you might not take no for an answer.

He lets out a sigh, essentially out of awe at how spontaneous you are. Though admittedly, it made his heart race thinking about what would happen on that day. He imagined the scenarios painted by shoujo mangas, especially considering it would just be the two of you going.

His thoughts ran wildly with all the writing conventions he got from every manga he’s read. So much so that he wondered if he needed to practice playing volleyball, or maybe some tough talk when you run into a random group of troublesome strangers… What if you planned to ask him to help you put on some sunblock lotion? What about the conversation you might have as you watch the sunset?

Apart from that, you didn’t tell him to bring anything other than himself… did he need to bring anything? for him? for you? for both of you? Or—

“Stop this! It’s not like it’s gonna turn out that way anyways… even if we are dating…”

Even if going to the beach was the most typical kind of date for couples, he couldn’t believe you were inviting an otaku like him to go with you. If anything, he figured you’d bring Beel and Belphie, Asmo, or Mammon, who definitely wouldn’t refuse some downtime at the beach.

The same kind of thoughts ended up partially clouding his mind for the entire week. Luckily, not so much that it ended up becoming a problem for his duties as a RAD student and student council member. However, it did end up making him lose several rounds in the RPG game he was currently obsessing over.

When the day arrived, Levi had to make sure that the day would be perfect and ended up with a lot of stuff to bring after all. In response, Asmo and Mammon had to talk him out of bringing too many beach items. In the end, Levi just brought some sunscreen that Asmodeus shoved onto him, sunglasses, some swimwear, and himself.

“Are you sure I don’t need any of the stuff I was gonna bring?”

“Levi, if MC is the one that asked you out as a surprise, it should probably mean that  they’re  the one with an itinerary.” The 5th eldest of the brothers reasoned, speaking as if this was based on common sense.

“I-I guess you’re right about that…” Asmo was the love expert after all, despite being slightly uneasy and nervous, he adhered to his advice.

“If you’re gonna get cold feet over going to the beach, I oughta take your place and go with MC to the beach.” Mammon hit him in a way that was aggressively playful as if he was telling him to turn back and switch places with him. Levi raised an eyebrow, slightly annoyed

“T-they asked  me ! Besides…”

We’re the ones dating, they’re in love with me.  He stopped himself before he could say his thoughts aloud, it was a close call.

“N-nevermind, I’m just going because it’s MC! You should never refuse MC!”

Right as he says that, a portal emerges and he sees MC by the entrance. The timing almost made Mammon and Levi squeal.

“Hey, MC! If ya planned on dropping by, at least give us a heads up! I think I lost 1000 years in my lifespan thanks to you!”

“MC!” Asmo squeals and runs over to give you the biggest bear hug.

“Hello guys! Just coming in to pick up Levi. How did I do with the portal spell?” You turned over to Levi with a glimmer of excitement in your eye. His eyes widened realizing how close your face was to his.

“U-uh…!” He took a step back and coughed, rose pink dusting his cheeks.

“It was actually really good! Solomon’s mentoring skills are definitely not something to mess with.” You giggled and took him by the hand before turning to the two brothers who were seeing him out.

“Well… off we go! It was nice seeing you all!”

“Take care ya damn lovebirds!”

“Have fun you two!”

Before Leviathan could say anything else, you both already made it across the portal and into the beach.

Levi was expecting some intense heat rays. To his surprise, the heat wave never came. Instead, he was greeted with a healthy mix of blue hues and fluffy clouds.

“Huh…” His eyes landed on the ground, feeling the warmth of white sand on his flip-flops. It was a small pet peeve, but he was going to ignore it for now.

He looked a bit farther and that this was a part of the beach that was relatively distant from where people would often stay.

“Not bad right? Let's head over to the docks.” Levi nodded, letting MC take his hand and walk him to the nearby docks. It was old, the varnish that protected the wood faded from the sunlight. The nails that kept them in place creaked loudly with each step, no matter how gentle they were. Regardless, it seems that the dock was sturdy enough despite its age.

The waves were splashing gently that day, telling you everything you needed to know about how today was going to turn out to be.

You giggled to yourself as you looked at Levi and back to the crystal blue water.

When you reached the end of the dock, you sat down, cross-legged, by the edge. Then, you motioned Levi to sit next to you.

Awkwardly, he obliges, letting his feet hang as he sits down.

“I begged Solomon to teach me this one spell… just watch.” You made eye contact with Levi who was looking at you expectantly. You gave him a small smile, trying to contain your excitement. Then, you let your eyes close as your focus was redirected to the objective you had in mind.

“Spirit of the wind, let my lungs respire and my body steel under your power.”

A blue light glows intensely within you as you take a deep breath in, and fades as you breathe out. The unexplainable sensation of the spell you cast radiates from your chest to your fingertips.

You open your eyes, all your senses returning to reality.

Levi blinks.

“Okay, cool trick and all… but what's the spell for?”

You raise an eyebrow towards your lover before speaking.

“You mean you  don't  want to experience a day underwater?”

“Huh?!”

“Suit yourself, fish man.” You shrug before launching yourself into the water below you.

“What?! MC, Wait!” His mind was too startled to think about hesitations. Immediately, he jumped in after you. His adrenaline spiked as he looked around to find you, preparing for the worst possible outcome.

He had a delayed realization that you were trying out a spell that could let you breathe underwater, even as you reach the depths of the ocean… at least… if it was executed properly.

He can only vaguely recall how the spell goes as he didn’t need it in his demon form. Because of that, he was too worried over whether or not the spell even worked, stressing over why you acted so rationally.

His worst fears were realized when he saw your limp body halfway through making its way to the ocean floor.

He cursed under his breath multiple times in a state of panic.

With all the strength he could muster, he swam his way to you and caught you in his arms.

Your mouth was slightly open, motioning to the idea that you might’ve already lost breath. He shook your body in an attempt to wake you. But it’s no use.

“MC… fuck… please not like this… it’s too soon… why the hell did you have to go and be so irr—mnn…!”

Suddenly, he feels the slight warmth and softness of lips pressing against his, and a pair of hands snaking their way to his cheeks as they try to pull him in deeper.

Suddenly, his worst fears were unrealized.

You were the first to pull away, giggling playfully as you did.

“A-are you serious right now!? You could have  died! ”

“Levi, oh ye of little faith… Do you really think humans are that fragile?” You caressed his cheek, in an attempt to reassure him a little, but he only felt more heated up about the situation, and admittedly, a little flustered from the kiss you shared.

“Yes! Well… n-no… not you… I should’ve known that but— but you should’ve known to test the waters first before jumping into the water like that! Imagine if the spell didn’t work!”

“Levi, this is the spell I wanted to show you. I begged Solomon for literal weeks to teach me and help me master it. You had no idea how many times I had to grin and bear having to go to the beach with him and have him prepare picnic food.”

“I mean… look~! My hard work definitely paid off, and now I can venture with you whenever you want!”

Before he could even argue further, he began to recall the times he would gush over how much he loved the water. Admittedly, they were pretty rare instances, but the fact you even remembered it at all was heartwarming.

The soft-hearted thoughts came to a full stop when he realized…

“Wait, that means you’ve already done this with Solomon… more than once?!”

‘Curse you Solomon, you lucky bastard.’  He thought to himself.

“I mean… he’s the only guy that could teach me the spell in such a short time. I would’ve taught myself but I was a bit overwhelmed with the textbook Satan lent me.

“Why didn’t you ask Satan, then? Not that I want you spending time alone with him either…” Levi asked, mumbling the last bit so you wouldn’t hear it.

“I feel like he’s going to hold it over my head if I do. Like make me do his chores when I get back to the Devildom or help him with an Anti-Lucifer league scheme.” You shuddered at the flashbacks you had, recalling how it ended up with you being strung up by Lucifer at some point.

“Now come on! Let’s go see the ocean! Or—at least— whatever we can see here— or we can just float around, that’s fun too!” You giggled to yourself as you moved around freely, feeling the coolness of the ocean hugging you, and moving against the motions you made. It really did feel like you were floating off the ground.

Quickly, you took Levi’s hand in yours, pulling him as you made your way to the first coral reefs you saw under the waters.

Time passed, allowing you to see all kinds of colorful fishes and reefs. You believed it was luck that allowed you to see such sights, especially how it’s become a rare gem in today’s time. It was as if the universe willed this particular date for the two of you. The thought alone made you feel a bit giddy inside.

Pulling yourself from your thoughts, you turned to Levi and asked him: “So…how was today for you?”

Levi shook his head and smiled, it was as if he was trying to find the best reaction to give you. But at the end of the day, he felt dumbfounded and even more in love with you than he was before… even if he didn’t know it was possible.

He turned to you, fully awestruck. “You’re too amazing. Please don’t make me say more praise unless you want this little otaku to die of embarrassment.”

You giggled, raising your hand like you were taking an oath.

“You have my word.” You replied to him, “consider that as a thank you from me.”

Levi’s eyebrows shifted slightly in confusion “huh… but I didn't really do anything... I just followed your lead today ngl.”

“I know. But it's because of you that I got to fulfill my childhood dream to swim around in the ocean like this. It’s ten times better because I enjoyed it with you.”

He pulled away from your gaze for a moment, you were literally killing him with affection right now. A giggle escaped his lips in response, probably one of the cutest you’ve heard out of him today.

Suddenly, Levi let out a cough and his face shifted into a more serious expression.

“Can we d-do what we did a while ago? Minus m-me freaking out about you almost dying.”

“Which I didn’t,” You said matter-of-factly. Levi didn’t want to argue, nor could he if it was you. He just laughed in response.

“Which you didn’t.” He simply said. In response, you pretended to weigh your options before swimming as fast as you could.

“You’ll have to catch me first!”

Levi couldn’t help but scoff, this was a game of child’s play, and you knew it. So he gave you a little head start. He doesn’t know where this surge of pride came from, he just knew that he wanted to play into your set-to-fail plans.

He wasn’t always great with sports or running, but he was  definitely  a good swimmer when he wanted to be.

Levi felt his heart trying hard to escape from his chest. The moment he knew the distance was far enough, he made his way towards you. Levi could even feel his heart leaping bounds as you got closer.

But then… He realized, only at the last minute, that he had no clue what to do once he caught you.

Under a millisecond, his mind descended into panic mode. Right before he could think to stop, he had already collided with your body. From there, everything happened in slow motion.

There was something about the water that made how you both tumbled together embarrassing and beautiful at the same time. Perhaps, Levi thought, it was because the two of you seemed to circle around each other forming something close to the motion of a yin-yang symbol.

You were about to burst out in laughter but stopped yourself as you saw that ultra-rare expression on your lover's face, the one he’d hide because he was too shy to show how happy you made him.

The fondness in his eyes shone brightly under the dimness of the ocean. Your heart was beating crazily now, telling you to shower him with as much affection as you could in every kiss.

You obliged, feeling the world around you spin slowly as you did. It was something right out of a magical girl manga, but more. In Levi’s mind, he believed nothing could top the real thing, not even fiction.

“MC… I think I want… to kiss a little bit more…” Even in the depths of the sea, you could tell how much Levi was blushing as he sounded out his wants. The best thing about Levi was how he always expressed his desires shyly. He does his best to gather courage when he feels that he truly needs it. It was his cutest quality and because of that, you smiled.

“You can always have more because you already have all of me.”

His eyes narrowed, trying to hide his giddiness with a cringed expression. You shook your head, you could read him so well.

The two of you kiss again, feeling time and space disappear for the moment. In that moment alone, you were both one with the ocean and one with each other. Feeling what it is to love and be loved, your hearts soared infinitely, as though they were with the breeze.

[iamthecomet]

"I wish you would write a fic where Dewdrop is keeping Aether company during a stormy night in the infirmary and maybe helps him welcome a new life on earth"

The second I saw this one I knew I needed to write it. Sorry it took me so long. 2k (I got carried away, I'm SORRY) of Dewther fluff, and slice of life intimacy. No smut, not even a hint of it. Non-graphic scene of a sibling having a very normal and healthy birth (it's pretty glossed over, but it does happen and Dew and Aeth are in the room). Dew being good in a pinch. Dew's immaculate bedside manner (not sarcasm). Aether and Dew being so fucking in love it's sickening. This one is all sweet guys, I don't know what to tell you.

Dew hasn’t left Aether’s side since the tour ended. He stepped off the bus and glued himself to the bigger ghoul. Pressing his face into Aether’s broad chest and inhaling deep. Tucking himself under his arm and letting Aether lead him back into the Abbey. Held close. 

That was a couple weeks ago. Dew isn’t quite as physically attached as he was for the first few days–but he’s still always in sight or earshot. Dragging Aether into his bed every night, wrapping himself around him. They shower together, and if they don’t–Dew isn’t far. Sitting in the adjoining bedroom with a book. One eye on the bathroom door–cracked just enough. 

Chores haven’t started back up for the band ghouls yet. They’re on a break. So Dew takes the opportunity to follow Aether everywhere. Not that Aether minds. He’s not used to having a little shadow–but it’s kind of nice. Nice to be able to turn and talk to Dew when he wants. Nice to not spend long, endless, nights in the infirmary alone and in silence anymore. The abbey feels full again. And Dew is here, and warm, and always present.

Most nights, Dew sits himself at the nurse station while Aether makes his rounds. He fucks around on his phone, or reads a book, or flirts with whatever sibling drew the short straw and got stuck with the night shift. Aether watches him as he moves from room to room. Their eyes meeting over dimly lit hallways.  Lips quirking up as they see each other. Still here. Within touching distance. 

Tonight, Dew’s alone at the nurses desk. There’s a blizzard raging outside and Aether’s usual sibling had called in sick. Probably not really sick. Just reluctant to uncurl from a nice warm bed on a very stormy night. Aether doesn’t mind. Night shifts tend to be boring anyway. Emergencies are rare, and most of their beds now are filled with humans suffering from the flu or some resperatory thing that’s been going around. Both viruses unable to make the jump from human to ghoul, so Dew, unlike the human that was supposed to be here, is safe. His bedside manner leaves a little to be desired. But Aether doesn’t really care about that. All he needs is someone to put pills in cups and measure medicine and hand him something when he’s asked. 

Dew does all of it without complaint. He’s more squeamish than Aether. Proclaiming, without any sort of filter, that he isn’t going to empty any bedpans, Aeth. That’s fucking gross.

Aether doesn’t have the heart to tell him that there aren’t any bedpans in play right now. It’s quiet now–rounds are done. Dew’s settled in behind the nurses station with a book. Booted feet propped up on the desk, leaning just a little too far back in the chair. Aether watches him–can’t help it. Eyes drawn to the way Dew’s lips move a little as he reads, the way they always do when he’s fully engrossed. 

Aether watches the little furrow appear between his brow. He’ll smooth it away with his thumb later, when he finally gets out of here and takes Dew to bed. Pulling that overwarm body against his and pressing his cool fingers to all of the places Dew finds stuck. A clenched jaw, a creased brow, tense shoulders. 

Aether stands at the end of the infirmary hallway and watches him turn page after page. He should do something else. His job isn’t to watch Dewdrop. The abbey counts on him, needs him. His work is important. But he hasn’t been able to do this for months. And Dew has been attentive ever since he got home. Always aware, always watching–the way Aether is now. Cataloging all the little things about him that he missed. 

Dew turns the page again and looks up, meeting Aether’s eyes. Aether can’t hear his chuckle for the distance and the noise of a thousand medical machines around him but he sees it, and the eyeroll that accompanies it. 

“What?” Dew asks, loud enough to be heard but still classifying as a whisper. 

“Nothing.” 

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” 

“Can’t a guy just look?” 

He expects another smartass remark, but what he gets is a little more color on Dew’s cheeks, another eye roll. Eyes darting back down into the book to avoid really looking at Aether–to avoid having to admit that he likes it when Aether looks. 

Aether turns back to his job–spell not broken just interrupted. He stands in front of the big window that overlooks the wide back yard of the abbey and looks out as he counts pills into paper cups labeled with names and times.  The hill that slopes down to the lake. The forest at the far edge. If it was light out he’d be able to see the ridge of Mountain’s favorite greenhouse, and the maze even further off. As it is–all he sees is white. The snow falling in big fluffy flakes–faster than seems possible. Piling high on the grass. Burying the abbey under a blanket of white they won’t be free of until late spring. 

Their easy calm is broken when the infirmary door slams open. Two harried looking siblings burst in, one of them heavily pregnant. There’s sweat beading on her forehead–her habit gone, or forgotten. Auburn hair sticking to her skin in damp clumps. The other sibling holds onto her, supports her weight as best they can as they rush into the infirmary and right up to the nurses desk and a stunned Dewdrop. 

Dew puts his book down. “Uh–Aeth?” 

Aether is already there, coming up behind them to slot against the sister’s other side. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes wild and pain filled. He knows this sister–she’s been coming to him for all of her check-ups throughout her pregnancy, no issues, entirely healthy. And, Aether calculates a week early. Nothing to worry about. He puts his hand on the small of her back. 

“How far apart, Isla?”

“Five minutes just like you said,” Isla winces as another contraction hits and she bares down on the nurses station. Dew looks ready to flee. Eyes darting between Aether and the two siblings. 

“Good,” Aether says, calm, low. He pulls Isla and her friend away from the nurses desk and leads them into a room just off of it–empty and freshly cleaned. He gives Isla instructions to change into a hospital gown, and leaves her in her friend’s capable hands while he darts back into the main lobby. Dew’s got his book in his hand again–and his coat slung over his arm. 

“I’ll be in my room when you’re done–”

“I need your help,” Aether says without argument. Gathering things he needs from the nurses station by the arm full. He’s delivered plenty of babies alone–but it’s ill advised. And Dew is right here–he’s not getting out of this. 

“Oh hell no, this is way above my pay grade.” 

“There is no pay grade. Put on some gloves and help me,” Aether pauses, fully looks at Dew. There’s fear in his dilated pupils, in the rushed shallow breaths expanding his chest. Aether pins him with his gaze–allows himself this moment. “Please.” 

Dew sighs, he grimaces. Uncomfortable but unable to say no to Aether–not when he really does need him. He tosses his book down on the desk. “Promise I’m not going to like, accidentally kill a baby or something?” 

“You will not be going anywhere near any babies.” Aether promises, and Dew groans, but snaps on a pair of gloves and follows Aether into the room. Trailing behind him nervously. Isla is on the bed when they get there. Her friend, who introduces themself as Rae, standing up by her head. Their hand carding over Isla’s forehead, brushing sweaty hair away from her temples. Their fingers are laced together. 

Aether talks them through everything he does. Every touch, every movement. It’s as for Isla and Rae as it is for Dew who is still radiationg panic despite having pulled himself together enough that the humans in the room don’t notice. 

Dew, contrary to his own beliefs about hismelf, is good under pressure. Aether won’t tell him this–not yet anyway–but there is no one else he’d rather have with him. Not even the siblings who have training are as level-headed as he is when he needs to be. 

When Aether asks for something, it’s in his hand before the word is all the way out of his mouth. Dew’s warm fingers brushing his. 

As most birth’s go–it’s an arduous process. The snow piles up outside. Isla’s contractions get closer and closer together. Hours pass. Dew gets his shit together. He follows Aether’s orders. Not nearly as squeamish as he pretends to be. Keeping a close eye on Isla’s process as Aether flits around for IV’s and blood pressure machines, and a thousand other things. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Isla says late in the game–minutes before Aether is going to tell her to start pushing. He’s exhausted his back hurts. Rae consoles her, pets her hair and tells her that of course she can. She shakes her head, vehement. 

“No. I can’t. I can’t be a mom. What am I doing?” 

Aether opens his mouth, not sure what’s going to come out, trying to find the right words despite his exhaustion. Dew places a warm hand on Isla’s knee and cuts him off. 

“Sure you can,” Dew says, soft, sure. “You’re doing this. This is fucking brutal. Being a mom can’t be worse than this.” 

And though Aether knows that isn’t true–Dew probably does too–it seems to take some of the edge off. Maybe just from the surprise of Dew actually butting in. But Isla looks at him, pain morphing her face, she laughs, bitter and relieved at the same time. 

“Yeah. This does suck a lot.” 

“See,” Dew squeezes her knee. “Just a few more minutes and this part will be over and then it’s the good part. You’ve got this. No backing out now.” 

Aether doesn’t know where those words come from. Dew who hates all children–ghoul and human alike. Who a few hours ago was about to tuck tail and run–to be out of Aether’s sight line for the first time in weeks just because this was about to happen near him. Saying shit like this? Encouragement? Enthusiasm. 

Determination settles over Isla’s face, she nods at Dew once. Sharp. And then turns her eyes to Aether. “I’m ready to get to the good part.” 

It’s quick after that. And before long Aether is handing Isla a screaming baby. It’s another hour before he can take a small break. The baby cleaned and swaddled, snuggled up with it’s mother. Rae resting fitfully in the chair while Isla stares at her baby. Aether leaves them to it and walks out into the lobby to find the sun rising. Pink hues casting over the floor. Blizzard over. The world outside the windows snow bright and fresh. He finds Dew at the nurses station, book in hand again, nose firmly in it. Brow creased. 

Aether kisses him right between where his horns would be and Dew looks up and over at him. Looking exhausted. Eyes fighting to stay open.

 “Hey,” he rasps, saving his place in the book and setting it on the desk. Aether brushes an errand strand of hair behind Dew’s ear. 

“Go back to your room. I’ll meet you there as soon as I switch with Omega.” 

Dew shakes his head. He leans his head against Aether’s bicep. “I’m good. I’ll wait.” 

“You’re going to have to detach from me at some point you know?” 

“Yeah. But not yet,” Dew shrugs. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” 

“Leech.” 

“Mmhm,” Dew nods. Eyes fluttering as he leans into Aether’s body. They’re quiet for a moment, the quiet only broken by a ragged cough from a room down the hall. 

“Thanks for staying–for helping,” Aether says softly. “I know that isn’t your thing but you really–”

“It wasn’t that bad.” 

“You going to tell me where all that sappy shit in there came from?” Aether teases, then sobers. “You were incredible, really.” 

Dew tips his head and opens his eyes, looking up at Aether with adoration that threatens to knock the breath from his lungs. He shrugs. “I mean. Just kind of thought of it like tour. Get the hard part over with. Get to the good part.” 

“This is the good part?” Aether cocks an eyebrow.  “You’re the good part.”

[jeonscatalyst]

Hi there

Sorry for any grammar or spelling issues English is not my first language. I was never a fan of bts I have heard about them bt was never really interested. So about a year ago or I think in the beginning of this year I saw a reel on YouTube abt TH and JK at the airport where TH was trying to hold JK hand and I didn't understand ppl where commenting abt how they were finally coming out and JK was shy or scared and all I could think abt was that JK body language was "the hell you trying to hold my hand for" that's what I got. Remember now I didn't know them didn't even know their names bt that reel was just cringe for me,and I didn't even know there was shipping going on in bts😩... Bt about 6or7 weeks ago a saw a funny video of them on insta and rm caught my attention so I searched their songs on YouTube became a instant fan bt then I got obsessed with jimin. Well suddenly all these tkk reels started coming on my tml and I was curious at first because there were so many tkk stuff and ppl always commenting under posts tkk is real I looked Into that first and I got to say I don't know how ppl can say they a couple bc I didn't even know abt jkk and those tkk stuff got me messed up coz when a saw a vmin reel I was like yeah they can maybe be a couple bt Def not tkk so I started searching jimin Omg that man is heaven Send... And low and behold jkk stuff popped up on my time line, my god when I tell you about the butterflies I felt when a saw that reel about 2018 where it looks like JK wanted to devour jm I knew a was at the right place.. Now I still don't know very much abt jkk I'm still looking into it bt for me who didn't even know bts or abt tkk, vmin, and jkk and learning about tkk before even knowing abt the other 2 bt saw at first glance that no a big hell No are the a couple, now for me that says alot because I would vmin a chance of being real before tkk. And can you maybe tell where and what I can watch to know more abt bts and jkk... I really love all 7 so much.

Hi anon.

No don’t worry, your English is fine and welcome to the world of BTS and shipping even though it’s crazy out here so buckle up lol.

I guess some people see something in taekook while others don’t and you happen to be one of those who doesn’t. For me, it’s always been clear that taekook are just friends not just because I couldn’t see anything beyond friendship but because all the evidence and common sense points to them being just friends but I guess not everyone sees things the same way and that’s why we still have tons of taekookers out there.

As for Jikook, they’ve always been the most likely pair to be real to me not just because of what I see or feel about them but because there’s been alot of that has strongly pointed to the possibility of them being more than friends over the years. I cannot swear that we are right about them being a couple because we never know but I know for a fact that they have and have always had an incredibly deep bond. Also, I am positive that taekook are nothing more than friends, no matter what taekookers would like to say about them and the solo era.

I would advise that you try to find and watch as much original content as possible. You can find some on Youtube, daily motion, weverse etc. Try to avoid youtube, instagram or tiktok edited videos because those tend to take out alot of context which makes you misunderstand alot of their interactions or moments. You can also check out @stormblessed95 blog. She has done an incredible job in explaining their dynamics and breaking things down. She is also the best person to go to if you need to find a specific content. To know more about the other members you can follow member focused accounts on any social media platform but make sure you are not following toxic or delusional shippers or solos because they could influence you to start hating on or being shady towards other members. Find content like run bts, In the soop, Bon Voyage to really get to know them. You can also watch their Vlives from weverse. Those are good places to start and you can always send in asks if you have questions about anything. Hope you have a great time catching up with content anon💜

[sweetprfct]

The Hate Formula

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Living in the same building, across from each other shouldn't be much of a problem, right? But how come you and Joe tend to always push each other's buttons every day? Is it because you both truly just hated each other or is it because there was something more to it?

Author's Note: I wanted to upload this to make up for the lost time that's probably going to happen for the next few weeks. If you haven't read it yet, please read my announcement here. Anyway, are you all ready for this? Things are going to start escalating.

Disclaimer: 18+

Wordcount: 3.6K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

Your dress looked nice.

You fixed the thin straps of your dress as you exhaled a sharp breath and stared at yourself in the mirror. You have been dreading to do this dinner, but you kept telling yourself that you were a good friend. Sara also had a point because you have known Wes several weeks before finding out the truth and in all honesty, you did really like him for Sara. It was your pride and ego that kept getting in the way. Besides, you didn’t want to disappoint Sara either. She seemed happy and deserved to be happy. So, if this was what it took to make her happy, then you would suck it up and be a grown up for once. You have owed her several times already for always causing trouble with Joe and the fact that you both were almost getting kicked out of the building. 

Technically, as per what Sara had told you, this wasn’t a “double date.” However, you didn’t really care about the title of whatever this was. You weren’t in the mood to spend your whole Saturday night with Joe. Sure, Wes and Sara would be there, but they were a couple. You knew they were going to end up doing things on their own, and you would be left alone with Joe. Joe, who would tease you and probably make fun of you all night. 

This was so agonizing for you just thinking about it. 

“Hi.” Your thoughts were interrupted when Sara knocked on your door. 

She peeked her head behind your door as you looked over your shoulder and gestured for her to come in. She entered your room, and your eyes instantly widened as you saw the pale blue dress she was wearing. Her hair was in waves, and she had some cute pins at the back of her head. 

She looked amazing. 

“Aw, Sara!” You pouted. “You look so beautiful. Wes is going to be on his knees tonight for you.”

Sara chuckled softly, looking down at her dress before gazing back up at you. 

“You also looked really pretty.” She stood behind you as you both looked at yourselves in the mirror. 

“Thank you for doing this.” Sara added.

She wrapped her arms around your shoulders as she hugged you from behind. You chuckled softly as you felt her squeezed you gently. 

“Alright, alright.” You rolled your eyes as she parted away from you. “You don’t have to be all sappy about this.”

“Well, it’s true. I know this is hard for you.” 

“I’m doing this for you.” You grabbed your coat from your closet. “I hope you know that.”

Sara grinned at you, nodding her head. For her, it was enough that you were actually trying to give this a chance. 

“You like Wes for me.” Sara murmured under her breath as you both walked out of your bedroom. “Stop denying that.” 

“We’ll see.” You shrugged, slipping on your coat. 

Sara chuckled softly at the denial expression on your face. Following behind Sara out the door, you found the two men waiting for the both of you in the hall. Joe was wearing his fancy button up and trousers outfit. The one thing that stuck out most for you was his new haircut. 

His head was buzzed. 

All the brown curls, gone.

It made his features more prominent. His chocolate button eyes were bigger, and his cheekbones were a lot sharper.

He looked sort of… more beautiful.

However, you couldn't help but notice how Joe was trying hard not to look at you. Focusing your attention back to Sara, you watched as Wes whispered something in her ear that made her face flushed red before planting a soft kiss on her lips. 

You could already feel the thick air between you and Joe as the four of you stood inside the elevator. Once the four of you exited out of the building, you could feel the New York summer air combined with the tension between you and Joe. 

“Are we all up for Italian tonight?” Wes looked over his shoulder. 

You and Joe didn’t say a word as you both just nodded your heads in agreement. You saw Sara looked over her shoulder and gave you another thankful smile. You knew she was grateful for you to be doing this, but you honestly didn’t know what her plan was. There was no way you and Joe were going to get along with just one night of spending time together. You both barely even spoke a word to each other since you all left the apartment building. 

What made it worse was when you had found yourself sitting in the middle of the backseat of the cab. You were squeezed in between Sara and Joe, and you could see how Joe was trying hard to focus his attention out the window. His usual yappy self was quiet tonight, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was a good thing or not. Was he quiet because he didn’t want to cause trouble or because he was feeling the same dread as you? 

Upon arriving at the restaurant, you knew Wes and Sara were starting to feel the tension between you and Joe, so Wes had walked ahead with Joe on the sidewalk, while Sara had locked her arms with yours. 

“How are you holding up?” Sara asked. 

You rolled your eyes, knowing she was trying to make sure you were okay. Surprisingly, you were. Joe hasn’t said a word, so you were fine. You didn’t really feel anything else besides maybe a little hungry. 

“Thanks for doing this again.” Sara added. 

“Stop thanking me.” You chuckled softly. “The night had barely started.”

“Yeah, but still.” Sara leaned in to you, grinning happily. 

As Wes greeted the server in the restaurant, you all followed her towards the table at the back. The restaurant was nice and cozy and without thinking clearly, you pulled out the chair that was next to Sara before you gazed up and locked eyes with Wes. Your eyes shifted to Sara and Joe, who was just staring at the both of you.

“Sorry.” You bit your lower lip.

“No, it’s okay.” Wes gave you a genuine smile and pulled the seat that was across from Sara.

“Wes, no. I’ll sit there.” You walked over and grabbed the back of the chair from him. “Sit next to Sara. It’s okay.” 

Wes gave you a “are you sure?” look before you nodded your head and gave him a reassuring smile. Pulling the chair next to Joe, you moved a bit further from him as you cleared your throat. Taking the menu that was sitting in front of you, you studied it and let your attention focus on the options. 

Then, you suddenly heard a soft chuckle next to you. You slowly turned your head towards Joe and saw him reading the menu, while shaking his head. A small smile was tugging on his lips as you furrowed your brows at him. 

There was no way he was already starting this shit with you. 

“What’s so funny?” You asked, your voice was low to make sure Wes and Sara didn’t hear it. 

“You act like I’m going to hurt you or something if you sit close to me.” Joe leaned in, whispering to you. 

You leaned back and stared at him, “Hm… You’ll never know. I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours.” 

Joe laughed softly, leaning close to you again. “And yet, you sat close to me in the front lobby two weeks ago.” 

You could feel the blood rushed to your cheeks as you remembered that moment with him again that night. It had been a while since you thought about it and suddenly, the memories of that night and the look on his face had re-appeared in your mind. It was the same look he was giving you right now, and you felt your limbs froze for a moment. You stared at Joe, eyes blinking before finally snapping back into reality. You cleared your throat and looked away, focusing your attention back on the menu. 

“Did you guys wanna go to this light show at Central Park after?” Sara asked later that night after the server had taken your orders. 

You took a sip of your wine and studied the group. “If you guys want to, I don’t mind.” 

“Yeah, me too.” Joe replied. 

“My office mate told me it’s really nice. They made it into this nice garden full of different light displays.”

“I think I saw them setting it up one time when I was coming home from work.” Wes said. 

You watched as Wes and Sara tried their best to interact and start conversations between the four of you because you and Joe would barely even interact or say anything. At one point, you listened to Joe yap about cooking and Italian food when Wes had brought up that this restaurant had one of the best pastas he tasted. 

“I didn’t know you cook, Joe.” Sara said. 

“Really well too.” Wes nodded his head proudly, giving Sara a smile. 

You played with the napkin that was sitting on your lap as you listened to the conversation. Your other hand was playing with the fork that was on your pasta. You didn’t know what it was, but you couldn’t seem to finish your food. It wasn’t like the pasta was bad or anything, you just keep having an unusual feeling in your stomach. 

Almost like… butterflies. 

It made you want to vomit.

“Oh, yea. Whenever I have time, it’s such good fun when I cook.” Joe grinned excitedly. 

You saw how something sparkled in Joe’s eyes when he talked about cooking for his family and friends. You never saw this side of him, and you kept wondering if this was one of the things that Sara was talking about. One of the things that you didn’t know about Joe.

Two years of knowing him, and you didn’t even know he liked to garden too as he started talking about the different kinds of herbs he has been planting. 

“I heard you have a new movie to film?” Sara asked. 

As you took a sip of your wine, you continued to listen to the conversation. Your eyes followed Joe’s hand that gently caressed his now buzzed hair. You couldn't help but wonder if it was for a role as to why he buzzed his head. 

“Yes, I just finished Warfare and about to film Fantastic Four, but I also have the second Gladiator movie to promote soon. I play the villain.”

You couldn’t help but snort, setting your wine glass down and wiping the wine that dripped from your chin. You felt the three of them turn their heads to you as you froze in your seat and gazed up at them. 

“Sorry.” You murmured. 

Joe cocked his head to the side and raised his brow at you. “Something funny about that?”

You raised your brows, eyes widening as you turned to Wes and Sara. You have been in your best behavior all night, and you didn’t want to ruin that. You didn’t want to ruin this night for your best friend. 

“N…No.” You replied, shaking your head. “I just thought it fits you perfectly.”

Joe’s eyes looked at you up and down before turning his attention back to your friends. You could tell that he was also trying to keep the peace at the table tonight. You gave Sara an apologetic look before hanging your head low and continued to play with your pasta. 

Central Park was a little busy later that night. The summer breeze was blowing nicely through your hair as you watched Wes intertwined his fingers with Sara. You and Joe were following behind them, while you gazed up at the sky. The city lights were flickering between the trees, and you kept your eyes anywhere else but Joe. As the night went on, you could tell that you and Joe were just doing this for your best friends, and you both barely didn’t even want to try and get along with each other. 

You kept wondering if you should actually try and talk to him, but you were too hesitant over it. You didn’t want to hear the stupid jokes that could come out of Joe’s lips. Wes and Sara were quick to ditch the both of you the moment you all arrived at the light show. You smiled slightly as you took photos of the displays. Big glowing flowers in the garden, string fairy lights hanging from the trees, and displays of fairies and cute animals lighting up the garden. 

You slipped your phone from your coat pocket and took pictures of the display as Joe quietly followed behind you. 

“Do you want me to take a photo of you?” Joe finally broke the silence. 

You looked over your shoulder and saw that he looked genuine and serious with his offer. You, on the other hand, didn’t believe it. 

“No, thanks.” You replied. “Knowing you, you have an agenda about everything.”

“That’s not true.” Joe uttered. 

You scoffed and turned around to face him and said, “I’m sure you would take my picture and end up having to capture something stupid like my head is cut off or you only took a picture of my shoes and then laugh at me.”

Joe’s brown eyes stared at you deeply as he took a step forward towards you. You remained in your position, your feet glued to the ground. 

“Is that what you think?” Joe asked, his brow raised.

“Yeah! That’s exactly what I think!” You exclaimed, frustration starting to pulse in your veins. 

A comical smile tugged on Joe’s lips as he said, “It’s funny how you think I think about you all the time.”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you listened to Joe’s words. It felt like a sharp knife was stabbed into your chest. Why did you expect him to even be nice for once? 

“Oh, don’t worry.” You scoffed. “I never thought about that. I know you’re busy trying to figure out which girl to bring home next and then make them cry after getting what you want.”

You couldn’t stand looking at him for one more second. Shaking your head, you gave Joe one more look before walking away from him. You found Sara and Wes not too far from you, taking pictures. You were ready to go home. You were ready for this stupid night to be over. 

“You don’t know anything.” Joe argued, making you stop in your tracks. 

“Oh, I think I know everything!” You said, turning around to face him with an angry look on your face. 

Joe stared at you, the same frustrated look washed over his face. You turned back around to find Wes and Sara, but they weren’t where they were before. Your eyes looked around the park and there was no sign of them. 

They were just right here! 

Where did they go? 

“Great!” You exclaimed sarcastically. 

“I think they left.” Joe murmured. 

“No, shit.” You shook your head and started walking down the trail towards the exit. 

“Where are you going?” Joe asked. 

“I’m going home. This was bullshit anyway.” You called out as you let your feet lead you out of the park.

What were you thinking? 

Why the hell did you even agree to this in the first place? Why the hell did you think you could give Joe a chance for once? Sara was wrong. He was the same idiot and asshole you knew this whole time. Maybe he was showing her a different side of him but with you, he was always going to be like this. 

You didn’t even realize how far your apartment building was, but you were angry and frustrated and the adrenaline was running through your blood. By the time you arrived at your apartment building, Joe was still following right behind you. It made you even more frustrated because he just couldn’t leave you alone. 

“Garrett?” You murmured. 

By the time you arrived at your doorstep, you found Garrett sitting on the floor. He looked like he had been waiting for you all night. Instantly, he got up from the floor and gave you a small smile when he saw you. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.” You smiled back at him. 

Suddenly, you felt Joe’s presence behind you as you saw Garrett’s green eyes shifted towards him. The smile on his face instantly faded. 

“Oh.” Garrett said. “Was this a bad time?”

“No—” You shook your head. 

“Actually, yea, mate. We’re on a date.” Joe cut you off as you turned to him with big, disbelief eyes. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Garrett said. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“No, wait—” You watched as Garrett gave you his apologetic eyes before walking away. 

You felt the anger now occupied your veins as your nostrils flared. You curled your hands into fists as you turned around slowly to look at Joe. He could see the anger sparking inside of you, but he kept still. He kept a neutral look on his face as your eyes darkened.

“What the fuck was that, Joe?!” You yelled. “Why the hell did you do that?!”

“That was him, wasn't it?” Joe asked. 

How was he this calm right now? How was he acting like what he just did was okay? 

“The one that made you cry a couple weeks ago?” He added. 

You shook your head in disbelief. Why the fuck did he care which guy made you cry? Why the fuck did he care at all? All he wanted to do was make your life miserable all the time. In fact, he shouldn’t be an actor since he does a pretty good job at making you miserable to the point where he should just get paid honestly. 

“That’s none of your business!” You barked.

You started processing the apology in your mind about what you were going to tell Sara later on. 

You tried.

You really tried tonight but there was no way you were going to get along with Joe at all. Walking towards your apartment, Joe slid himself between you and the door before you could unlock it. 

“Get out of my way!” You scowled, glaring at him. 

“You really think he could make you happy after he decided to choose someone else before?” Joe asked, his voice was soft. 

You stared at him with anger. You swore if you were in a cartoon, there would be smoke coming out of your nose and ears right now. 

“You don’t know what happened last time!” You argued. “How are you so miserable with your life that you tend to drag me in it all the time?”

Joe scoffed, his face inches from yours. “Is that what you think?”

“Yes! You hate me so much that it gives you joy to see me miserable all the time!”

Joe shook his head, scoffing at your comment. He slipped himself away from you and walked towards his apartment. 

What a coward. 

He couldn’t even admit it in front of you that what you just told him was the truth. He just chose to walk away from it. 

“This night was bullshit anyway. I gave you a chance because Sara asked me to but you know what I realized? We can’t even be friends because there’s just hate and anger running in my veins when it comes to you.” You barked, making Joe turn around to face you again. 

His brows were all knitted together, his lips looked like it was twitching from the frustration because of all the reasons that you kept throwing at him. 

“You’re right. I like to make you miserable.” Joe stated. “In fact, I hate you so much that I stopped that man from asking you out again. I told him that on purpose, so he doesn’t come back.”

You threw your hands in the air, your shoulders finally relaxing as he spit out the truth to your face. 

“Finally!” You exclaimed. “The truth finally came out! I guess we both agree!”

Joe took a step forward towards you, nodding his head. “Yea, we both agree.”

You both stared at each other for a moment as you took a deep breath. Silence surrounded the hall as you turned around and ready to unlock your door when Joe had curled his hand around your wrist. You froze for a moment and looked over your shoulder. He was giving you that look again. The look he gave you when you two had talked in the lobby. The look he gave you earlier at dinner. 

His eyes turned into doe eyed ones as he gently pulled you towards him. His soft pink lips crashing into yours. You felt the air in your lungs leave as he moved his lips with yours. His hand cupped your cheek so gently, his body pressed against yours as he gently pushed you against your front door. All the anger inside of you left as you curled your hand around the back of his head and pulled him closer to you. 

Butterflies invaded your veins as both of your lips moved together. Joe’s arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your body closer against his as if the closeness between you and him wasn’t enough. You continued to kiss him deeply, feeling the air between you two shift into something new.

Suddenly, this game you were playing with Joe became too dangerous. 

********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @munsonluvrr @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf @mvnsonlover @mdurdenpitt @siriuslysmoking

[lot-of-nothing]

Can I Call You Rose? (Ch. 1?)

Chessy x Reader

As the new viticulturist (grape-growing expert) at Nick Parker's vineyard, you fall for a certain nanny. (Post-Parent Trap movie I think)

Warnings: SOFT SMUT (with a little plot and romance)

You wondered if your fingers were going to go numb, or perhaps your heart would just explode first?

You had finally worked up the courage to kiss the auburn-haired beauty mere hours ago and now Chessy’s lips were finally attached to her neck. You had met during your first week as Nick Parker’s head viticulturist. Her warmth was magnetic and you always tried to find reasons to tend to the grapes closest to the house in case you could start a conversation with the nanny. You spent many afternoons together, flirting while she brought you her homemade lemonade or while you walked her around the rows of vines handing her grapes to try. Chessy always seemed to wear a smile when you were near, filling you with butterflies in return. You had been dreaming of this moment since you first met the beautiful woman and now you were filled with pure unfiltered anxiety. 

Chessy’s open mouth kisses to your throat and collarbone were unlike anything you had ever experienced. Were you supposed to crave her as much as you did? There was a fire ignited in the pit of your stomach that hungered for something that felt so forbidden.

As nervous as you were, you wanted more. You needed more. You wanted to feel Chessy’s hands setting every inch of your skin aflame… but the thrum of energy winding through every cell in your being had you wondering if you would have a panic attack or pass out before that could happen. 

“Hon… Hon? Honey!” 

You must have spaced out entirely as Chessy’s voice drew you back to reality. Next thing you knew, Chessy’s hands were now cupping your face, staring intently into your eyes. 

“Hm?” You hummed, your eyes brimming with tears as you felt like you could finally breathe again. You felt incredibly embarrassed that you felt that you couldn’t handle the physical intimacy. It was hard when you were so in love with Chessy and lacked the experience you thought necessary to please her.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Chessy’s voice was just above a whisper. She was terribly worried that she had pushed the bounds of your relationship too far too soon. Little did she know that it would be your own slip up that would be the culprit of a ‘too much too soon’ relationship. 

“I-I-I…” You quickly stopped herself short, not wanting to make yourself cry.

“It’s okay… Wanna finish our movie, honey?”

You shook your head furiously, determined to push yourself through the anxiety and nerves.

“Honey…” Chessy seemed skeptical, her hands squeezing your cheeks. The extra bit of care Chessy showed was all you needed to lose your head, tears pooling in your eyes and spilling onto your cheeks.

You stared into your hands, trying to explain to Chessy why you were struggling to get through your anxieties. “I just… don’t- I just don’t know how to pleasure a woman…” 

“Tell you what. Come’re…” Chessy cooed, drawing you in so you could sit between the auburn beauty’s legs. From there Chessy gently caressed your arms, speaking in a firm but gentle tone. “I am going to turn on a different show and you are gonna sit right here and enjoy it, okay?”

You sniffled and nodded, reclining back in Chessy’s arms as an attempt at relaxing. A few moments passed of Chessy tapping away on her phone. The audio sounded off before you even comprehended what was playing, “I hope you are nice and wet for me.”

You certainly weren't expecting Chessy to stream a guided masturbation from her phone onto the television. 

Your cheeks flushed a deep red, “Wha-?”

Chessy’s hands fell to your sweatpants, pulling out the band a couple of inches as she spoke, “I want you to just relax. Just do what she tells you to, okay?”

Your hand was shaking as you pushed it into your sweatpants, never having experienced anything like a guided masturbation before. While daunting, it was incredibly hot.

The audio rang over the tv speakers once more, causing butterflies to swirl in your stomach, “Now, why don’t you see how wet you are for me? Slip your fingers in your panties for me.”

As you slipped your fingers in your underwear, you let out a whimper at first contact with your cunt. What else would you be in for with this nanny? What other tricks were hidden up her sleeves to drive you wild? 

Even though all of your building anxiety, you had grown incredibly wet from Chessy’s touch. You rolled your head back onto Chessy’s shoulder, earning a kiss to your temple as you did. Chessy’s voice was gentle in your ear, “You are doing so well, honey.”

The video instructed you once more, telling you to focus on your clit. Considering the pacing of the video, Chessy must have found a video long enough to help you relax, but short enough that she could find more involvement in your pleasure sooner rather than later. 

Doing as you were told, you circled your clit and felt yourself melting back into the auburn beauty’s arms. What you couldn’t see was Chessy’s smile as she felt the tension in your body fade. Her hands wound up your front, working your t-shirt up your torso to access your breasts.

The audio emanated from the tv was filled with the performer's moans, but you were becoming enraptured by the soft, encouraging hums from the woman behind you. Chessy’s hands drifted up and down your stomach, stopping at your breasts to give a gentle squeeze before shifting back down once more. 

“Let me hear you, sweetie…”

You bit your bottom lip and turned your face into Chessy’s neck, unsure if you were ready to be heard. 

Without a response, Chessy hummed disapprovingly, her hand slipping its way into your sweatpants and then underwear in search of your wetness. At the feeling of her fingers mingling with yours in your cunt, you withdrew your hand and dropped it to your side to allow her to take over. You couldn’t keep yourself from softly sighing at the feeling of her gentle fingertips working against your clit. 

“God, you are so wet…” Chessy whined at the way your wetness coated her fingers. 

You bucked your hips up into her hand, desperately wishing for this sensation to last forever. With her arms around you, fingers dancing around your clit, and her hot breath against your neck, your head was spinning. You couldn’t help but moan before blurting your thoughts to Chessy, “You- you’re so beautiful…” 

“Mmm… thank you, honey.” Chessy cooed, her arm winding around your waist to cradle you close as her fingers continued working against you. Your entire being was set aflame by Chessy’s loving embrace and skilled fingers. 

Your breathing rate was growing faster and faster, the coil in your stomach tightening as you grew closer to your orgasm. 

Chessy’s teeth nipped at your earlobe, tenderly nibbling as she added extra pressure as she circled your clit. Her voice came as a soft whisper, forcing warmth to spread across your face. “I can feel you getting close. You are so beautiful when you fall apart like this for me.” 

“Fuck, I love you~” You exhaled, not registering your words while your hands clung to her forearm. 

Sadly, you were too lost in the throes of your eminent orgasm to notice her lack of a response. She only nuzzled you with her cheek and held you tight as your orgasm washed over you.

Your back arched and your hips thrashed, unable to contain yourself. Your eyes squeezed shut and you let out a lengthy moan, trying to enjoy every ounce of the orgasm Chessy guided you through. 

Chessy sighed with a soft smile and withdrew her hand from your pants. She was trying to ignore her own anxiety building from her lack of response to your omission of love. While she felt she loved you as well, it all felt like too much too soon. In years past, she had dove head first into relationships and had only been burned in return. She had no intention of ruining your relationship over the omission of her own feelings. 

“How do you feel?”

“Mmm… good.” With a deep breath, you roll over in her arms, pressing your cheek near the base of her sternum. You tucked your hands under her wide hips and enjoyed the feeling of your bodies pressed together. “How do you feel about me returning the favor?”

Chessy pushed her anxieties deep down, not wanting to ruin a perfect moment. She had been falling for you since you started at the Parker estate. “Maybe in the morning…”

“Are you sure? I would love to-”

There was that word again. It made Chessy’s stomach drop. 

“No. It’s really okay. We could just… finish our movie.”

She seemed curt in her reply. It lacked the typical warmth you always received from her. It made you terribly self conscious until her hands wandered to the skin of your back, drawing loopy circles with one hand while her other turned the tv back to your movie.

“Mmm… you better be careful or I’ll fall asleep.” You murmured, testing the waters of how likely it would be for you to spend the night with the nanny. 

“Whatever shall I do. I would hate for someone so cute to be in my bed when I woke up.” Chessy was being incredibly sarcastic, her hands continuing to scratch your back in lazy loops. 

You allowed your own hands to wander her hips and thighs as a different form of self-soothing. You obsessed over the soft dips of cellulite and the slopes created by the widening of her hips. Her baggy clothing hid the curves you wanted to memorize through all of your senses. 

Chessy’s eyes drifted shut as she pushed herself to enjoy your loving touch. It was hard for her to accept such unadulterated affection, but she desperately wanted to try. It felt so good for her to be wanted and desired, but the vulnerability required for a deep and meaningful relationship lurked in the back of her mind. 

[fortemelody]

two days until i see the sonic movie…. this doesn’t feel real holy shit 😭

like this is the day i’ve been counting down for all year ahhdhrkgigkfkglg

i also mentioned in a previous post that i was gonna try to plan a cosplay group for me and my friends and it worked out!! we have a sonic (me), knuckles, rouge, and shadow. i’ve been planning so much stuff for this you don’t even know bro… like i bought and styled a completely new wig and i have a long long list in my notes app of what tiktok audios i wanna record with the besties (it looks like gibberish to anyone who isn’t chronically online /j)

btw i said two days cus i’m actually seeing it a day early!!! YAYYYY! amc theaters tend to offer that a lot. no spoilers tho obvi i understand how important that is, i’ll probably wait a couple weeks before talking about it and if i do i’ll try to find a method that isn’t just “oh god scroll with your eyes closed passed my post”

needless to say, this is prob gonna be one of the best days of the year for me 🙏 but also the hardest week of school to get through 😟 like thankfully my school doesn’t do finals around this time of year but i do have a shit ton of projects and one test anyways so erm it’s been even harder to focus than normal with this movie at the back of my mind fjfkgktkgl

i’m a bit nervous about cosplaying in public too, i’ve only done it two other times and i got extremely anxious. i’d like to think i have no shame beforehand but when i get there it’s a diff story LMAO 😭 but i’m hoping people will understand more cus like i remember so many people dressing up for the fnaf movie last year so i digress

i had a dream where i somehow got a copy of the dvd before it even went to theaters. i then couldn’t tell you what happened from there but yeah it was kinda funny

last thing i gotta say is that i’ve always heard in the past that some people think trailers and clips spoil too much of the movie. i’ve never had that mindset until this goddamn movie (probably cus it’s the most hype i’ve been to watch something come out like…ever). and that was AFTER i watched all the trailers and ads, i was like “damn welp i can kinda make out the plot already”. which kinda sucks but hey i did it to myself cus i usually like seeing slow releases of bits of content. i’m just happy i haven’t run into many major “real” leeks yet.

but yah thanks yappin forte is back all becus of this movie be prepared y’all 😛😛😛

[anavilante]

@doriennnnn

I’m absolutely terrible at saving and cataloging fics I like, so I’ll name three that I remember by heart and a couple I managed to save across various sources.

Blue by Kalenderen (@urbanspires on Tumblr). This fic and everything around it stir up so many emotions in me, which is why it will always hold the number one spot. It’s a love-hate story between actors Callum and Austin, filled with jealousy, love, anger, pain, and the constant need to pretend to be something you’re not just to get somewhere in this cruel world. It feels like someone pulled this fic straight from my own mind—I feel it with my own nerves, my soul. I don’t even know how to describe it.

But the fic’s journey hasn’t been easy. The morality police went after the guy writing it with idiotic accusations that Callum and Austin are real people and that he shouldn’t be writing about them (as if John Egan and Gale Cleven are not real people, right?!). The author initially tried changing the names (which was completely ridiculous, because Callum and Austin were still painfully obvious), then went along with the other demands of this so-called morality police, whose appetite only seemed to grow. Eventually, he just abandoned the fic altogether. There was a brief moment when it seemed like his inspiration had returned, but these disgusting vultures managed to push him to delete the story completely from AO3 and Tumblr. I feel like crying that I didn’t save at least part of what he’d written.

God, this is one of those moments when I don’t want anything to do with this fandom.

2. bite tongue, deep breaths, by uzimaki, 14K words. https://archiveofourown.org/works/55328026?view_full_work=true Omegaverse Dune fic. The author has an absolutely incredible imagination and a talent for seeing things from a different perspective. Even the names are a treat—meet AUSTIN ATREIDES and CALLUM CORRINO! Callum is the prince of Corrino, and Austin is Bene Gesserit. You have to read it—it’s fantastic!

Oh, and Austin has a vagina in this fic (beware, vagina-haters!), which is pretty much my go-to for Omegaverse where omegas can give birth naturally.

3. Such stuff as dreams are made on, by WonderGinia (@amiserableseriesofevents on Tumblr), 103K words. https://archiveofourown.org/works/55636504/chapters/141217963 An intriguing theater universe, intense slow burn. Even though I’m not a theater fan, never have been, and probably never will be, Gale in this story is incredibly compelling with his combination of psychological trauma and insecurities—he’s sensitive, vulnerable, and desperately in need of love. He’s a character I genuinely enjoy.

Normally, I’m not a fan of long fics that update once a week, because with real life happening, I tend to forget what came before, and unfinished stories start blending into an indistinguishable mess. But somehow, the stars aligned back then—I wasn’t reading many other fics, and this universe was unique enough that I remembered it well. Plus, my long comments and many questions to the author stood out to me as memorable. I rarely do that since authors usually reply briefly, clearly not interested in much discussion. But WonderGinia answered eagerly, making it engaging. Part of the story was in the written text, and the other part was what came out in the comments.

A March in April by defnotanarc

Another First (Work) by JoeyAlohaDream

below deck (Work) by consors

Darling, Make It Go Away (Work) by RambleOnWaywardSon

How to survive being the new hot teacher (By Gale Cleven) (Work) by PinkSiames

Love at second sight (Work) by WonderGinia

The Boy Next Door (Work) by JoeyAlohaDream

Do They Collide? (I Ask and You Smile) by MaShEd_P0tat_0s

feel you on my fingertips by joeyjello

My King’s Crown is made of Flowers by DonotNomi

maybe i'm amazed by teukchul

this august i began to dream of drowning (in you) by simplykayley

Lonely Traveler by RambleOnWaywardSon

'Til Death Do Us Part by RambleOnWaywardSon

Blue Days by QueenKaterina

dive for dreams by Avonne

Wait, WHAT ? by Amethyste_Blanche

And I also recommend this—check it out, you won’t regret it, even though it’s not a fic: Our Baby by V13ENYA

[fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat]

Quiet My Fears (With The Touch Of Your Hand) Ch. 3

Steve Harrington x f!reader

Description: Dramatic reveals are revealed, dramatically (or, you and Steve tell the gang about Baby Harrington and it does not go well).

Warnings: language, food mentions, everyone is angry all of the time

Word Count: 7965

Previous Chapter! - Next Chapter!

My Masterlist! - Series Masterlist!

Notes: I'm so sorry this took as long as it did! I've been going through it lately but through the power of boygenius I was actually able to finish this bit the other day! Please enjoy and also no one is allowed to be mad at me lol

Steve Harrington was going to be a dad.

The funny thing that came along with that was that Steve was actually going to have to tell people.

He imagined that there were many couples who would be very excited about this prospect. There were lots of young men out there who had mothers begging them for grandchildren. His hadn’t quite gotten there yet.

You had told him that you wanted to put off telling people for as long as you could. He entirely understood why; times had changed quite a bit since his mother’s day, but still, being an unwed mother in Smalltown, USA was relatively frowned upon. Honestly, considering just how gossipy the population of Hawkins tended to be, Steve was surprised the front desk ladies at your doctor’s office hadn’t already spread the news like wildfire, HIPAA be damned; golden boy Steve Harrington and his childhood best friend, having a baby out of wedlock? That was some front page stuff, right there. 

Married or not, though, it was going to have to happen sooner rather than later. In a few weeks time, it was going to start getting very difficult to hide. You were going to begin showing any moment now, and as Spring started to settle in, it brought its warmer temperatures with it. You could only hide behind your winter coat and thick sweaters for so long. 

And not just your bump; your friends were beginning to pick up on the fact that there was something going on.

“Steve!” Robin barked before tossing a wadded up ball of old receipts at him. It hit him square between the eyebrows. “Stop moping and do your job, please?”

“I’m not moping,” Steve defended (he absolutely was), before turning back to the pile of returns he was supposed to be sorting through.

“Fuck off, yeah you are,” Eddie very helpfully added.

“See, this is why I don’t like it when you hang around here,” Steve said, pointing a pen toward Eddie. “You two always gang up on me!”

“Why do you think I’m here at all?” Eddie quipped back with a smirk. 

“Because you don’t have anywhere better to go?” Robin supplied.

“That, too.”

“Either way, I’m not moping,” Steve assured. “I’m fine.”

“That’s a fucking lie if I’ve ever heard one,” Eddie said over the click of the markdown gun, as he emptied its bright orange stickers down that back of his arm. Steve couldn’t help but notice that he had set the price to ‘WAS $4.20, NOW $0.69’.

“Stop that,” Robin huffed as she whipped the tool out of Eddie’s hands. “Steve, I can practically see the rain cloud floating over your head.”

“Oh, my god!” Steve didn’t really want to snap at his friends, but he did it anyway. “Nothing is wrong! I am fine, everything is fine!”

Eddie and Robin just stared at Steve like a pair of deer in headlights from across the counter. They both knew how easily frustrated Steve could become, and they’d be the first to admit that sometimes they can poke at him a bit too hard, but an outburst this quickly had been unexpected. Neither said anything, and Steve just sighed.

After a moment of awkward silence, Eddie spoke up once again. 

“Lady problems?”

“Get out!” both Steve and Robin exclaimed, in unison.

“I thought you guys liked me.” Eddie feigned offense.

“You do not work here!” Robin said as she grabbed onto his shoulders and shoved him toward the door. “And Keith’ll get pissed if he finds out you were here and didn’t spend any money, so go home.”

“Fine,” Eddie relented from the entryway. “Hey, I’ll see you guys on Saturday, right?”

“Of course!”

“Probably not.”

“You claim nothing is wrong,” Eddie said, pointing to Steve. “And yet, in the same breath, turn down free beer?”

“Leave!”

“I love you both!”

The bell above the door rang as Eddie walked out, and Steve was left in Robin’s concerned gaze. 

“Y’know, Eddie does kind of have a point,” Robin said after a moment. Nine times out of ten, Robin was able to coax Steve out of his quiet and get him to talk about whatever it was that was eating at him, a fact that Steve was highly aware of. 

“No, he doesn’t,” Steve barked back. If this conversation didn’t end in the next two minutes, he would jump off the roof. 

“You haven’t hung out with any of us in weeks!” Robin exclaimed “Weeks, Steve!”

“I’ve been busy,” Steve lied.

“Busy with what?” she inquired. “Do you have another job I don’t know about, or something?”

“I’m allowed to do things without you around. You know that, right?” It was meaner than he needed to be.

“Oh, god, this isn’t about your lover, is it?” Robin drawled with a scowl.

“You know her name, and you don’t have to say it like that,” Steve responded.

“You two got back together, didn’t you?”

She hadn’t quite gotten it head on, but it was probably as close as she was going to get.

“I knew it!” Robin looked like she was going to explode. “I fucking knew it!”

“Please don’t turn this into a thing,” Steve pleaded.

“Me turn it into a thing?!” She was mad now. “You two are the ones turning it into a thing! You cannot keep sneaking around like this, it cannot possibly be healthy!”

“We’re-” Steve huffed out a breath. This tightrope he was walking across seemed to be growing more and more thin. “Working on it.”

“Can you work on it a little bit faster, please?” Robin asked as she punched out. “You two are so fucking weird about each other. Split, or make it official, just do something, because I hate having to keep this secret for you, it’s exhausting!”

“We sort of already did. I think,” Steve confided. Partial truth is better than no truth, right?

“Split?”

“Make it official.”

“Oh, thank god,” Robin sighed, tossing herself across the counter, all dramatics. “I can finally quit having to cover for you.”

“Don’t say anything yet.” Steve was quick with his damage control. “We, uh, we wanna do it. Ourselves. Figure it’ll probably go over a little bit smoother that way, y’know?”

“Fine, but if you don’t tell everyone soon, I’m going to,” Robin said. “Don’t think I’m the only one who’s noticed something off with you lately.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“Everyone is worried about you, Steve,  it’s not just me,” she explained. “Dustin was about two seconds away from showing up at your house after you bailed on us last week.”

Steve didn’t know that. It sent a lightning bolt of regret through his chest.

“The faster you two can get your shit together, the better. I’ve been happily cleaning up this mess for you, but I’m starting to get fucking tired of it, Steve.” Robin looked at her watch. “I was off ten minutes ago.”

She was out the door before Steve could even think up an apology.

Steve and Robin didn’t get into fights often, but he absolutely hated it every time they did. Even silly little arguments left him wracked with guilt sometimes, but proper, go-for-the-throat type fights made feel sick. 

Pair that with the fact that he was making Dustin worry, and Steve felt about ready to hurl. 

God, this was difficult. Stupidly difficult. Maybe, if he asked nicely, you’d agree to just run away with him so he didn’t have to deal with any of it. 

If he could just pluck up the courage to tell his parents, that would at least be a start. They were the difficult ones, the conversation he was dreading more than any of them, and the wild anxiety ate away at him for the rest of his shift. By the time seven o’clock rolled around and he was finally able to go home, it was entirely all-encompassing.

Fuck it. It had to get done either way, right?

The drive from Family Video to his parents house, no longer than ten minutes, felt as though it stretched across half an eternity. The vicious anxiety ate away at his stomach as he drove, and with each turn, each mile crossed, it only increased. Maybe he should just turn around. Maybe he should go home to you, and his parents could just figure it out on their own. He was sure his dad would love that.

Steve pulled into the driveway and was very close to losing what little nerve he had. He turned off the ignition, this is a bad idea. He got out of the car, this is a bad idea. He walked up to the front door and let himself in, this is a bad idea.  

He could hear the commotion of his mother making dinner in the kitchen. Something was sizzling; popping and crackling with the smell of onions and garlic, of bell peppers and roasting meat. 

Steve had lots of reasons to be jealous of other peoples’ parents, but at least his knew how to cook.

“Steve!” his mother exclaimed once he walked into her view. One hand was occupied by a wooden spoon stirring a pan of vegetables, the other holding a frosty glass of white wine. “I didn’t know whether or not to expect you.”

“You barely even live here anymore,” his father chided from where he was sitting at the counter. His suit coat was off and he had a matching wine glass sitting on the table in front of him. Nine times out of ten, Steve’s parents were able to be amicable with one another. At this point, they acted more like roommates than husband and wife, but at least they were roommates that were able to stand being in the same room as one another. Usually. “Didn’t think I’d get to see you before I left.”

“Sit down! Have a drink,” his mother insisted. She pulled another wine glass out of the cabinet and the bottle out of the fridge. 

“Oh, no, I’m alright,” Steve said as he sat down. His mother poured him the glass anyway.

He was about to ruin a perfectly good dinner, Steve thought to himself. His mother probably poured over it all day. The roast that just got pulled out of the oven was probably expensive. 

“So, what’s been going on with Steve these days?” his father asked him. 

Now or never.

“I actually wanted to, uh,” Steve stuttered out. “I wanted to talk to you guys.”

“You didn’t crash your car, did you?” his father said, only half joking.

“No, the car’s fine.”

“Is this about that girl?” his mother asked as she turned the stove down to low, mischief painting her voice.

“Girl? What girl?” His father pointed his gaze over to Meredith. 

“He met a girl,” she responded. She seemed almost giddy with excitement.

“Finally,” his father said. He said it like it was a joke, though it didn’t feel all that well meaning to Steve. 

“Oh, tell me it’s Giada’s daughter from down the street,” his mother said. “Have you seen their kitchen? I’d never have to host another Thanksgiving ever again.”

“No, it’s not- no.” Steve wasn’t even sure he knew who Giada was, let alone her daughter. 

“Well, at least give us a name, Steve,” his mother said. “Is she cute?”

When Steve said your name, he felt almost like he was condemning you. Like just uttering it strapped you to him, so now you’d both be falling from grace. 

“The one who grew up across the street?” his father asked, as if you hadn’t known him your whole life.

“Oh, that’s just too sweet!,” his mother exclaimed. “It’s like a movie, ugh! I’ll have to give her mother a call, she’s going to be thrilled!”

Good luck with that, Steve thought to himself. She won’t even answer the calls from her own daughter.  

“Took you long enough,” his father said, leaning back in his barstool, lackadaisical. 

“What?” Steve responded. He was wildly unimpressed by his father’s haughty attitude.

“You two have been making googly eyes at each other since you were eight,” he explained. “Frankly, I didn’t think you had the balls to do anything about it.”

“Ron,” his mother chastised at the choice of words.

“What? Obviously, I was wrong.” Ron pointed his gaze back to his son. “Y’know, I think she could be a good influence on you. Steady job, good work ethic. She’s a bit of an oddball, though, but I guess with a father like her’s, could you really blame her?”

Leave it to Ronald Harrington to judge other peoples’ parenting skills while simultaneously insulting his son’s girlfriend. 

“Don’t be rude,” Meredith said. Her back was now turned to the two men, arms elbow deep in the sink. “Such a shame her parents moved away, though. I couldn’t imagine going that far without bringing your daughter with you. Is she still living on the south side?”

“Yep.”

“That’s not the safest area in town,” she commented. “Did you hear about that house fire down that way? The woman on the news said that it might have been arson. Arson!” 

“It’s alright,” he placated. “Not as bad as it used to be, at least.” 

“I still don’t know if I like the idea of a girl like her living all by herself in an area like that,” she said. 

“You’ll have to invite her over for dinner once I get back,” his father said, entirely oblivious to the topic of conversation between his wife and son.

There was a moment of silence between the three of them. His mom took a sip of her wine and stuck the meat with a cooking thermometer, his dad refilled his own glass, and Steve felt his stomach do a backflip. This was going poorly.

“If there’s something else you have to tell us, you might as well just rip the bandaid off quick.” His father hit the nail on the head, that was for sure. He paused for a moment before making the kind of poorly timed, borderline insulting joke only someone like his father could. 

“God, she’s not pregnant, is she?”

Steve went rigid, and he kept his gaze trained on the swirls in the marble countertop. He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t bring himself to, so he just left his parents to piece his silence together on their own.

“Steve,” his mother demanded. She had a carving fork gripped tight in her white knuckled fist, planted hard against the edge of the countertop. Steve was pretty sure she was about to stab him with it. He couldn’t look either of them in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to squeak out. He could feel tears beginning to well up in his eyes. 

“Goddamn it, Steven!” his father exclaimed, slamming his hand onto the counter. It made the glasses rattle. “This has to be some kind of joke!”

“I’m sorry!” Steve said, louder this time. “Fuck, I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what?” his father asked. “You didn’t mean to? You didn’t think it would actually happen?”

“I don’t know,” Steve responded. He suddenly felt very small, confronted by his father’s booming voice.

His mother stood silent in her spot on the opposite side of the kitchen island, but there were definitely tears running down her cheeks, and anger radiating off of her in horrible waves that Steve wasn’t used to. 

“No, you don’t, because you weren’t thinking at all, were you?” His father fumed. He was standing now, towering over Steve despite the fact that the two of them were almost the same in height. “For Christ’s sake, Steven!”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ll have to marry her-”

“We already talked about that. She said she wants to wait,” Steve explained quickly.

“No. No, this is not a question of want, Steven. I don’t care about what you want, you’ve forfeited that right! You both have!” his father spat back. 

“I’m not gonna force her to marry me against her will, dad, I’m not evil!” He shouldn’t have said it that way, he knew that. But god, he was mad, and a low blow like that was just as satisfying as he thought it would be. 

At least this hadn’t happened when he was 16. He would have been well and truly fucked if this had happened when he was 16. 

“You know what? Maybe this is just the thing you need,” his father snapped.

“What?” Steve asked, confused.

“A big mistake for you to finally learn a thing or two.”

Steve wasn’t particularly fond of his father’s use of the word ‘mistake’.

“I leave for Santa Monica tomorrow morning. I’ll be back in a week,” his father stated. “I want you out of my house before then.”

“Ronald,” Meredith broke her silence, exclaiming from behind the tears. Steve knew she wouldn’t explode the way his father was doing, but she really looked like she wanted to.

“No! We have been defending him and making excuses for years, Meredith. Years! If he wants to go play house with his little girlfriend, that’s fine by me, but he’s not gonna do it under my roof.” He doubled down and turned his gaze back to where Steve was sitting. “I think it's a damn good time for him to learn that his actions come with consequences.”

The older man turned away at that and pulled his keys off of the hook on the wall.

“Where are you going?” Meredith called after him. He didn’t bother with an answer, only walked out and slammed the door behind him. 

Steve was left alone with his mother, which was simultaneously much better and far worse. 

“We were already planning for me to move in with her,” Steve said. If his father had stuck around for a minute longer, he would have been able to explain that to him, too. “She needed a roommate anyway.”

His mother scoffed and shook her head.

“Look, I know that-”

“You make it incredibly difficult for me to be on your side sometimes, Steven,” his mother interrupted.

“I know,” Steve agreed. He did know. 

“I wish I could say that I thought your father was being irrational, but I don’t know if I can,” she sighed. “For once, I think he and I might be on the same page.”

“You are?” Steve asked. His father’s vitriolic anger hadn’t come as a surprise, he’d been expecting it, but he thought his mother would be at least a little bit understanding. She always had been before. Steve guessed that this was different, though. 

“You’re not going to be able to live in that apartment forever, Steven,” she said.

“I know that.”

“And you’ll definitely need a better job. I highly doubt your father’s previous offer still stands, by the way.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” she asked him. Her voice had a bite to it that he had never been on the receiving end of before. “You’ve been saying ‘I know’ for years now, Steve. You know you need to grow up, you know you’ll have to move out someday, you know you have to do something with your life, yet you have never made any actual effort to do anything about it!”

“Mom, that’s not true-”

“If you want to start making big, adult choices like this, you’re going to have to start acting like one. Clearly, you’re not a child anymore.” 

His mother untied her apron and tossed it onto the counter before leaving the kitchen, heels clicking on the tile.

Steve’s whole family had been waiting for that thing; that final, fatal event that would break the Hawkins Harringtons for good. Aunts, uncles, cousins, all piecing together whatever bits of gossip they could, knew that the string that tied Steve to his parents was being pulled thinner and thinner and thinner. His mother could only do so much mending for him, and everyone had spent the last few years waiting with bated breath for that string to snap, for Steve to lose his footing. Once it did, he would plummet.

Steve was now standing alone in his childhood home, scissors in hand. 

Steve didn’t know what to do, so he stood up and turned off the stove. He pulled out a tupperware container and boxed up the vegetables. He wrapped the meat in foil and left it out on the counter, because it needed to cool before it could be put away, or else it would screw with the temperature inside the refrigerator. He found a stopper and closed the bottle of wine, placing it in the fridge before gathering the three glasses. His was still full, and he wanted to chug it, but thought better of it and poured it down the drain. He cleaned all of the dishes, dried them, and put them away. He turned off the oven, and wiped down all of the countertops, and neatly hung the towel to dry. He turned off the lights, making sure to leave the one above the stove on as a nightlight. 

Truly, there wasn’t much left of his personal belongings that he really cared about that he hadn’t already taken to your apartment. Most of what he needed was already there. He could grab the rest of it when his mother wasn’t home; the rest of his clothes, important documents, that kind of thing. What all do you even need to bring with you when you're being forced out of your childhood home, anyway? 

Later. This was something he could deal with later.

So he left. Unsurprisingly, his father’s car was nowhere to be seen. He wanted to keep talking to his mom, to explain himself, to apologize, to say anything, but he knew it would just make it worse than it already was, so he just got into his car and pulled away instead.

He did need a better job. He’d been needing a better job for a while now, actually, but he definitely needed a better job now. And his mother was right, there was no way he would be able to work for his dad after that. 

He wished he was able to explain to his parents that hey, funny story, due to atrocities he won’t be explaining right now, the government actually gave him a frankly absurd amount of money a few years ago, and he’d be alright for a while. It wouldn’t last forever, but it was enough to keep the pair of you afloat, especially with yours, too. You had used a bit of it on rent right after your parents had left, but Steve’s money sat mostly untouched in a bank account his family didn’t know he had. 

See, the thing about government hush money is that you can’t just go out and spend it on something wild, because then people are going to ask where it came from. Believe him, if he had been able to go out and buy some fancy sports car or a bunch of designer clothes, he would have. His father would have told him to buy a nice watch and invest the rest of it (Steve wasn’t entirely sure what that actually meant, or how to even go about doing it). He was just grateful to have it right now.

He could put a down payment on a house for you and him. That seemed like something a responsible adult would do with it, right?

Steve pulled up to your building and was shocked with how well he’d held it together up until this point, because he felt like he was going to explode. When he got to your floor and walked into your apartment, you were sitting on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table, textbooks and paper spread before you. The sound of him walking in pulled you away from your schoolwork and when you turned to look at Steve, you were clearly upset.

“You told me you were off more than an hour ago!” you said as you wiggled out from behind the table and stood up. “I was starting to get really worried, Steve, where were you?”

“I, uhm,” Steve started. He felt his voice crack, the sting of tears beginning to well in his eyes. He had to keep his shit together, for your sake.

“Did something happen?” you asked him. You brought your hands up to the sides of his face, and there went any chance of him keeping it together. 

“I told my parents,” he confessed. He was not going to cry in front of you. He wasn’t.

“What?” you questioned. You sounded a little bit hurt that he did it without asking you, but mostly just horribly concerned. “I thought we agreed to wait.”

“We did, but it was eating away at me, and I just couldn’t sit on it anymore, and-” The floodgates broke and Steve’s words were cut off by a strained sob. 

“Oh, Stevie.” You pulled him into a hug and Steve wanted nothing more than for these stupid tears to just dry up, but it felt like weeks and weeks of pent up worry and fear were being pulled to the surface, and he didn’t have it in him to try and stop any of it. He was supposed to be the strong one for you, but Jesus Christ, that was difficult. “It was bad?”

“Well, they kicked me out,” Steve said.

“What?”

“Which, I mean, my dad’s right. I barely even live there anymore, so I guess it doesn’t really even matter,” he rambled out, wiping his nose on his sleeve like a child.

“Yes, it does,” you assured him.

“And I’m pretty sure that this is my mother's worst nightmare, so I don’t know why I didn’t expect her to be pissed.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. You pulled Steve towards the couch and carefully lowered onto the cushions, your grasp on his wrists bringing him down to your side. 

“And Robin and I got into a fight, too.”

“You didn’t tell her, did you?” you questioned.

“No, but I think if I don’t do it soon, she might disown me,” he admits. 

“She’s not going to disown you,” you protested. “She’d never do that.”

“My parents just did,” Steve lamented. “My mother just did. Who’s to say Robin isn’t next, huh?”

Steve would never, ever be able to make his father proud, because his father would never, ever let him even get close. He had known that for a long time, and maybe there was a part of him that was relieved by that. He knew that it was an entirely unattainable goal, so he never really bothered to reach for it. His mother, oh so cruelly, always made sure Steve knew that he could do great things. Why did she have to go and do that? Steve knew his mother held him to a high bar, he just hadn’t ever considered the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to jump high enough.

So maybe that’s why it hurt so badly when you curled into him that night when he finally crawled into bed. Maybe that’s why he called into work the next day, even though he knew it would probably make Robin totally freak out. Maybe that’s why he waited until he saw his mother’s car leave the driveway before going into his - what used to be his- house to box up the last of his things.

Maybe that’s why he missed the Hawkins Police Department truck parked outside of your apartment building when he was bringing groceries inside a handful of days later. 

“I’m back!” he called into your apartment after releasing the wildly heavy grocery bags onto the kitchen counter. Making more than one trip is for suckers. “They didn’t have any pineapple juice, so I just got a pineapple, figured it can’t be too hard to just-”

Steve cut himself off when he looked up from the paper bags to see more than just you sitting in the living room; Joyce was sitting on your left with an arm wrapped protectively over your shoulders, Robin on your right with her legs pulled up underneath her and a tissue box in her lap, and Hopper was propped up on the arm of the couch. You were in the middle of the array, in tears. 

“Hello,” Steve nervously greeted, eyes wide as frisbees and blood running cold.

There was absolutely no universe in which this went well.

Robin’s expression, which had clearly been soft and sympathetic before Steve had interrupted them, quickly changed into anger. She shot up from the couch, earning her a disapproving tut from Joyce and making you wince away from her. It took her three wide stomps to cross the small space and grab onto Steve’s wrist with more strength than he knew she had in her.

“Ow, Robin!” Steve complained as she dragged him out into the hallway. She slammed the door hard behind her and it made Steve jump.

“What the fuck, Steve!” she demanded.

“Robin-”

“I mean, seriously, what the fuck!” Steve could already hear the noise complaints from the neighbors as she chastised him. “You lied to me!”

“I-” didn’t, is what he wanted to say, but he knew better than that. “I’m sorry.”

“How long have you two been back together then?” she questioned. Steve really didn’t want to admit it. “How long?”

“Six months,” he replied, sheepishly.

“Six months?!” Robin shrieked in disbelief. “Jesus Christ, you really did lie to me!”

“Robin,” Steve said, hushed and ashamed and really fucking mad at himself.

“For half a year! You lied to me for half a year!”

“I’m sorry!”

“She had to turn down her job offer from the school,” Robin barked. 

“I know that.”

“The job that she’s been talking about for, oh I don’t know, six months? Probably more than that, actually!”

“I know, Robin, alright?” Steve assured her and crossed his arms across his chest. “You think I don’t? I am highly aware of that!”

“And, I’m sorry, but you’re far from the King of Responsibility!” Robin said. 

“What does that mean?!” Steve questioned, a tint of frustration layered over his words. 

“I’m just saying, you aren’t exactly known for your maturity,” she spat.

“You think we wouldn’t be able to take care of-”

“She can. I know she can.  She’s more than capable of doing whatever the hell she puts her mind to, but you?” Anger and resentment dripped from her mouth with each word. “You, I’m honestly not sure. If you were more willing to lie to my face for six months than you were to just tell me the fucking truth, I’m sorry, but that’s really winning you any responsible adult points, is it?”

Tears pricked behind Steve’s eyes. He wanted to yell, to scream at the top of his lungs that, no, Robin, you’re wrong, I can do this!, but he really wasn’t sure if it was true. If his closest friend, one of the people he trusted most in the whole world, really thought that he wouldn’t be able to do this, then maybe she’s right, right?

The apartment door next to Steve slowly creeped open.

“Everything alright out here?” Hopper asked, carefully planting himself just slightly between Steve and Robin. 

Robin lost her vitriol like a tea kettle after the burner got turned off, leaving her with no more steam to fuel what she needed to say. 

“I’m waiting out in the car,” she muttered as she whizzed past Steve and turned down the stairwell. The two men in the hall listened to her descending footsteps. Once they heard the front door open and slam back shut, Jim broke through the quiet.

“Robin wanted me to check up on you after you called out,” Jim explained. “She was worried you were mad at her, after your fight.”

“Right,” Steve said.

“So, imagine my surprise when your mom answers the door, only to tell me that you don’t live there anymore,” the older man said. “She wouldn’t tell me why, just gave me an address and shut the door.”

“Look, if you’re here to give me another angry dad talk, then you don’t have to bother. Mine did a pretty damn good job all on his own,” Steve asserted. 

“I’m not here to be angry.” Steve could tell that Hopper was choosing his words very, very carefully.

“Oh, that’s unlike you,” Steve commented, arms still crossed and eyes on the floor.

“Don’t be shitty!” Jim snapped. Steve withered.

“Sorry,” he muttered, still not able to look the man in the eyes. Jim just sighed.

“Do you have a plan, Steve?” he asked. 

“Yes. No,” Steve replied. “I don’t know. She seems to have one.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’m just not sure if I fit in it,” Steve confessed.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Jim huffed. “Maybe you do need another angry dad talk!”

“What do you want me to say?” Steve interrogated. “That everything is under control and totally normal? I have no idea what’s going to happen! None! And, honestly? I’m fucking terrified, Hopper!” 

“Steve-”

“I have to be good at this. I have to! Because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I’m not, but I am so terrified that I won’t be able to, and I’m going to let her down, and I can’t do that!” It all came out as some sort of paranoia fueled stream of consciousness. “I’d rather die than be anything like my dad, but what if it’s just in my blood? Like, I’m just predestined to turn out just as shitty as him!”

“You definitely won’t,” Jim said, as if it were just a simple fact. “I can assure you, there are very few people on this earth as shitty as your father, and you are not one of them.”

Jim wasn’t overly fond of Ronald Harrington; he was an all-around asshole to most people he met.

“Look, as much as I hate to admit it, you two aren’t kids anymore,” Hop said. “You’re grownups, you two are smart. You can make your own choices. If this is the choice you two wanna make, then make it.”

“You’re making it sound so simple,” Steve snarked.  

“It kind of is,” the chief replied. 

“Really? Because this feels like the least simple thing that’s ever happened to me,” Steve said. “You’re really not mad?”

“Well, I’m not thrilled,” Hopper grumbled. “But, like I said. You two are grownups. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

The pair stood in silence for a moment. Steve knew that Hop was more than likely lying about how mad he was, though he had been preparing himself for Jim to completely lose it on him. He probably would have deserved it. 

“Does it ever get less terrifying?” Steve asked, genuinely wanting to know.

“Nope.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“And it’s not just the fun parts,” Jim added.

“I know,” Steve responded.

“It’s more than just tiny socks and decorating the nursery.”

“I know that.” 

“Just makin’ sure.” Jim was far from happy, but he gave Steve a nod and a pat on the back, which was as close to congratulations as he was going to get. “I know the kids give you a hard time, but you’re smart, and so is she. You two know what you’re doing.”

“Thank you.”

“She’s really, really scared, Steve,” Hopper said. There was something in his voice; a silent question of  ‘do you really know what it is you’re getting yourself into?’

“I know,” Steve replied.

“You don’t get to panic now, alright?” Jim told him. “And you don’t get to change your mind.”

“I won’t. I promise,” Steve said; ‘I do know, and I want all of it.’ “I would never do that to her. Never.”

The pair went back inside, and you seemed to be in slightly better spirits now, even if you still had a sea of tears in your eyes. Both you and Joyce turned to face the two men with questions in your eyes, and Jim’s small nod seemed to be enough of an answer for Joyce to shoot off of the couch to envelop Steve in a tight hug. 

“I have lots of baby things I can bring by for you two,” she gushed after pulling away.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said to her, but she was having none of it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Joyce assured. “It’s all just collecting dust anyway.”

Which left Dustin, who in a lot of ways, Steve was the most worried about. He could take the anger from the grownups. Hell, he could take it from Robin, but Dustin, he was less sure about. 

In true Henderson fashion, he found out about Baby Harrington a few days later, entirely by mistake.

“I still don’t understand why they kicked you out in the first place,” Dustin stated from his spot on the living room floor of your (Steve’s!) apartment. He was digging through a pile of old clothes Steve decided he no longer needed. He had a lot of things, he’d realized while moving in, and he really only wanted a few of them, needed even less. He would donate whatever went unclaimed, but Dustin wanted first dibs for himself. 

“Because they’re assholes,” Steve responded. 

“Okay, yeah, fair, but hasn’t Robin been begging you to get a place with her for, like, a year?” 

“It’s not like I was able to really take my time apartment hunting.”

“I still feel like crashing on Robin’s couch for a while would’ve made more sense than moving in here,” Dustin supplied. Steve rolled his eyes.

“I needed an apartment, she needed a roommate, that’s it. Alright?” Steve loved Dustin like a little brother, but good lord, he could be obnoxious sometimes. “Now pick out what you want so I can clean this shit up.”

Dustin finished his haul, though he grumbled about how Steve was rushing him the whole time, and gathered the previously neatly folded clothes into a messy pile.

“I didn’t think of how I was gonna get any of this stuff out to the car.” Dustin, at not- quite- eighteen years old, had finally gotten his drivers license. ‘Thank god,’ Steve had remarked, ‘that I don’t have to be your fucking chauffeur anymore.’ That sentiment only lasted a little while, though, as it quickly became clear that a drivers license meant that Dustin could come and bother Steve whenever he wanted to. And he wanted to all the time. “Will you help me carry it all out?”

“No, I won’t, because there are more trash bags in the cabinet under the sink.” Steve pointed towards the small kitchen. Dustin got up off the floor, going into the kitchen and checking in seemingly every cupboard you had.

“I said under the sink, dude!” Steve heard the squeaky cabinet hinges open and shut, the rustle of the plastic trash bag.

“Steve?” Dustin called after a moment. The apartment was small, and the only real thing separating the kitchen and living room was a few feet of counter and the floor switching from tile to carpet.

“What?” Steve responded, not bothering to look up from the clothes he was shoveling back into their own trash bag. 

“What’s this?” Dustin asked him. When Steve finally looked up at him, he was pointing towards something on the fridge, and it took Steve a second to realize that what Dustin was referring to was the ultrasound pictures that he’d forgotten to take down.

Well, shit.

Steve rocketed towards the fridge to put them away, but Dustin was faster and grabbed them before he could. The damage was already done.

“Dustin, please give me that,” Steve asked. 

“This has her last name on it,” the younger boy observed. 

“Put it down, alright? You weren’t supposed to see it in the first place, so just-”

“Is she fucking pregnant?” Dustin demanded. 

“Dustin, please.” 

“I didn’t think she was dating anyone, though?” the boy thought out loud. “Oh, my god, I wonder if it’s someone we know!”

Oh, it definitely is.

“Dude, c’mon, please just give me the picture.” Remember what Steve said about Dustin being obnoxious?

“Wait, why are you moving in with her if she’s pregnant?” Dustin inquired. “I’m pretty sure that extra bedroom is gonna be pretty occupied in nine months.”

“It’s closer to six, actually,” Steve clarified, and Dustin’s eyes widened. “But that isn’t the point, can you please just-”

“Steve?” the boy asked, tone shifting away from curiosity into something Steve found much more concerning.

“Yeah?” Steve sighed.

“Why did you move in with her?” he asked again, although the way he spoke the words made Steve think Dustin probably already had it figured out. 

“Why do you think?” was all Steve could come up with to say.

“Oh, my god.”

“Dustin-”

“Oh, my god!”

“You cannot tell anyone, okay? This is totally top secret,” Steve begged.

“Did you-? You two-!” Dustin stuttered out. “Oh, my god!”

Dustin was about to start hyperventilating and Steve was doing his best to keep that from happening, pulling the glossy image out of Dustin’s hand as if it were made of precious porcelain, when the sound of keys jingling in the door distracted them. Both boys fell into bitter silence as you opened the door and took in the sight in front of you; a very frazzled Steve and a very distressed Dustin.

“Hi?” you greeted. “What’s going-”

“You’re fucking pregant?” Dustin exclaimed.

“What?” you spat out in response. Steve could tell that your mind was working a mile a minute to come up with a way to cover for yourself. “I-I don’t, uhm-”

“I left the sonogram on the fridge by mistake,” Steve confessed. He felt awful. “I’m sorry, it didn’t even cross my mind.”

“Oh,” you replied. You hadn’t moved from your spot in the entryway, hadn’t put down your bag or taken off your coat. You just stayed frozen.

“Oh, I have so many feelings!” Dustin wheezed, leaning forward. “Oh, my god!”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned him.”

“You’re having a fucking baby?” Dustin asked you.

“Yes,” you timidly responded, slowly placing your work bag onto the side of the couch.

“With Steve?!”

“Yes,” you said again.

“That Steve?” Dustin pointed a thumb over his shoulder to where Steve was hovering behind him. “Steve Harrington? Our Steve?”

You nodded. “That Steve.”

“Holy shit,” the boy breathed out.

“Please don’t be mad,” Steve requested.

“What? Mad, why would I be mad?” he asked. “Who’s mad?”

“Well, so far, everyone,” Steve explained.

“Wait, is this why Robin’s not talking to you?” Dustin asked.

“Robin’s not talking to you?” you piped up, concern dripping from your words. 

Steve hadn’t mentioned that part to you yet. 

Robin had been giving Steve total radio silence ever since she had found out. Even at work, she was refusing to say a single word to him. She went and hid in the bathroom anytime Steve tried to say anything at all, and she had even recruited Keith to be her disinterested, detached middle man and relay VHS-related messages if she really needed to. 

To say the least, she really hadn’t taken it all that well.

“Later?” he said to you, silently begging you to table this conversation for a time when you didn’t have a very upset teenager in your kitchen.

Sticky silence fell over the three of you, sealing to Steve’s skin and filling his lungs up in a way he hated. Dustin was the one who peeled through it first. 

“Are you actually having a baby?” The question was directed to Steve this time. Dustin was wildly expressive, he always had been, and he looked very, very overwhelmed. Steve felt about the same. He just nodded, and it took a second for Dustin to properly process the news.

“Gimme the picture again!” Dustin insisted. 

“No, dude! We only have a few and-”

“Excuse me, it’s my nephew, I think I get to see the picture if I want to!”

The tension dissolved as soon as the words came out of Dustin’s mouth. Steve had been so, so worried that he’d be mad, madder than Robin was. 

“Hah! See, Dustin thinks it’s a boy, too!” Steve exclaimed to you. Reservation made way for excitement. Like Dustin said, it’s his nephew.

“Oh, god, please don’t start with this again,” you said, smiling despite the faux exasperation in your voice.

“You think it’s a girl?” Dustin asked.

“I think,” you say as you shuck off your coat and lean against the counter, across from the boys, “that Steve is going to get his hopes up about it being a boy, and then be disappointed if it isn’t.”

“Not possible,” Steve clarified with a smile. “Besides, you don’t have to worry about it because I’m right, and it’s gonna be a boy.”

Dustin didn’t end up leaving until a good few hours later, when Steve noticed how your eyes kept fluttering shut as you leaned against his shoulder. He had to manhandle the boy out the door; he had a seemingly unending vault of questions (“you guys have been sleeping together this whole time?!”), but you were totally wiped. 

You really just wanted to just go to bed, but Steve insisted you ate something first, and a mug of soup later, you were practically dead on your feet. He cleaned up any dinner mess (canned soup doesn’t really result in any mess, but he’d be damned if you had to put your own dishes into the dishwasher), and sent you off to get ready for an early turn in. 

He’d just put the pot away when you summoned him into the bathroom.

“You alright?” Steve asked, leaning against the doorframe. You were standing in front of the sink in your pajamas. He could smell your mouthwash.

“Come look.”

Steve took a step into the bathroom to sidle up next to you as you pulled the bottom edge of your too-big t-shirt up. Your fingers ever so gently ghosted over your stomach.

“That wasn’t there before,” you asked, tilting your head back against the crook of Steve’s arm to look up at him. “Was it?”

Steve was entranced by your reflection in the mirror, by the way the swell of your tummy absolutely gave you away. 

“I don’t know.” Steve spoke just barely above a whisper, the way he would have if he was standing in a church. You felt like an angel beneath his arm. “I don’t think so.”

“I feel like I would have noticed it if it was,” you said, eyes glued to the mirror just as Steve’s were. 

“Definitely would’ve noticed,” Steve quietly gushed. “You officially have a baby bump.”

Realistically, you still had a couple more weeks before anyone else would actually be able to see it. Still small enough to hide behind your clothes, but absolutely, undoubtedly there. 

You hummed, and Steve noticed the way you were trying to hide your smile.

“You’re allowed to be happy about it, you know,” Steve reminded you. Your eyes caught his again, and your small, shy smile grew just a little bit bigger as you pulled his hand away from your hip and placed it firmly against the slope of your tummy. He felt his breath hitch, like the action of touching you was breaking some sort of cardinal law, but he stroked his thumb up and down, up and down across your skin, and you flattened yourself as deeply into his chest as you possibly could. He pressed a kiss to your temple, lingering in the scent of you for as long as he could allow himself to.

His hand stayed glued to you for the remainder of the evening.

Tiny Little Taglist: @sheisjoeschateau @hazydespair @damon-loves-pie @pariahsparadise @anislabonis-love @e509 @alexa4040 @starsforviolet @hoesbloated @luvlexi-darling

[clownprincehoeshi]

Parallel Hearts - Chapter 4

Synopsis: Never in your wildest dreams you imagined that you’ll meet your ult bias. Maybe you finally have your shot at love and happiness. Or not.

Genre: for all chapters- Fluff, Smut, Angst

Pairing: fem reader x idol Jungkook fem reader x idol Mingyu fem reader x idol Hoshi

Warnings: Kissing-Nudity-Sex 18+-Harrassment-Stalking-Death mentions-Cheating

Word count: 6401

Don't know how this chapter got so long. By my calculations, all chapters combined will go somehwere between 40k and 50k. Depends how much the plot thickens. Happy reading!

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Masterlist

This is a feeling you know too well. You’ve been here before and you hate it. You hate how all you think about it’s him, how you can barely sleep or eat, how you cry so much. You hate you’re so far from home and you can’t have your besties to keep you company and give you warm hugs. They know you the best.

Of course Hana has become your good friend, but can’t compare a friendship of 15 years with one of 1 year. Though, you feel you can trust her, you were always lucky with picking your friend. Apparently, you’re not as good at picking men.

Hana has been sleeping at your place since the breakup, 3 weeks ago. She’s going to be visiting her parents in Busan this weekend though, and you’re afraid you might have nightmares again. It’s something that happens whenever you’re really sad.

But you’re making progress. You can finally eat almost normally, you went back to the gym, but you can’t yet listen to music. You feel like music reminds you of him and you are not ready yet for it. Sleep is still a problem for you, as you need to know that someone is there for you, in your house. Breakups have always left a hole in your heart, a loneliness you can’t express. So you need company. You feel like a lost puppy.

You told Hana that you’ll feel extra lonely this weekend since she’s not going to be there and she said not to worry, because she’ll send one of your friends to keep you company. She didn’t say who, she said she wasn’t sure which one will be in town and have some free time.

So you waited all day on Saturday for your mystery friend to arrive. You even baked and bought some of that good meat to grill later, as a sign of gratitude. You hear knocking on the door and you go to open it.

Y/N: Mingyyyuuu!

You are so happy to see him, that you jump right at him for a tight hug.

Mingyu: I had no idea you missed me so much.

You invite him in and you feel relieved that it’s him and not someone else. The only downside is that he reminds you of him, as they are such close friends. He’s hoping to find out more from you, and maybe get you to open up. He wants to be there for you and help you get over this dark period you’re having.

Y/N: Tell me what you need. I even got meat and we can cook. You’re thirsty, hungry?

Mingyu: I feel like we could use some drinks before anything.

Y/N: Yesss, please!

You get some soju out and you try to not abuse alcohol right now, you tend to speak too much when you’re drunk. And you get to become too direct and honest. You both sit on the couch that’s facing your big living room windows, revealing the city.

Y/N: Maaan, I love to sit here for hours and look out the window. But I hate that winters here are cold as fuck. And I’m not sure yet if I like snow or if I hate it.

After some time of silence from Mingyu, and a couple of glasses, he finally got the courage to say something.

Mingyu: Y/N?

Y/N: Hmm?

Mingyu: I want you to know that I had no idea he didn’t tell you he will leave now. Even if I knew, I don’t think it was my place to let you know. And I hate that he acted like this and that he hurt you. I tried to talk to him about it and he just blew off, saying some stupid shit.

Y/N: What he did say? Because all he said to me was that he was sorry, on the day he enlisted. That was some lousy text. I blocked him after that.

Mingyu: He said “Why aren’t you happy now? You can finally have her”.

Y/N: What a stupid thing to say to his best friend. Where did that come from, why is he acting jealous since he never gave a shit about me?

Mingyu: Well I think he was always jealous, just not letting it show. Thing is this kind of affected our friendship. I mean, I was the first person to tell him to go for you, to confess. And for him to act like I was trying to make a move on you was pretty shitty.

Y/N: So let him believe that. Hope he can’t sleep well at night, thinking his ex and his bestie are fucking.

Mingyu: Whoaah, language!

He looks at you and asks how many glasses you had. You lift 4 fingers but you say two.

Mingyu: That’s it, no more soju for you, princess!

Y/N: I’m not a princess, look how I dress. Like a homeless dude.

He comes to hug you, patting your head.

Mingyu: You’re my homeless dude, then. Now let me be your chef for today, I’ll make you something really delicious.

And you let him cook. Not that you’re lazy, but you’re a little drunk and you don’t want to mess up. You’re feeling too good now, and you put some music on. You think some D’Angelo fits with today. You even forget you we’re not able to listen any music since the breakup.

Alcohol takes away your shyness and it’s like you’re another person, but you just think it brings the real you, fun, funny, silly, bright, friendly and chatty. Mingyu just giggles every time you’re like this, because he says it makes him happy when you’re happy.

He wonders if it’s a mistake that he came to keep you company today. And while he was having that thought and also moving around your kitchen, he felt you body brushing his. He froze and looked at you. You were just minding your business, looking for plates to set the table. The space between your counters and the kitchen island was not very generous, bot in your drunken state, you didn’t realize that.

He kept looking at you and felt his cheeks heating up. As your body brushed his, your hand also brushed his abs. It sent electric shocks through his body. He always had a thing for you, we can call it a crush. He gave up on you, as you were into his friend, so he kept these feelings closed. But what just happened now, woke a tiny little thought in his mind. What if…?

A voice brought him back to reality and a pair of big bright eyes looking up at him. Damn, you looked adorable.

Y/N: Gyyyyuuu! How many times do I have to call for you? You’re ghosting me right in my face.

Mingyu: Sorry, what does my princess want?

You look at him angrily and mumble something only for you to hear. Sheesh, such a tall and handsome dummy.

Y/N: Nevermind!

Food is ready, he made the grill and rice and you made salad. He knew that if you eat and drink lots of water, the alcohol will not have such a strong effect on you, and he was right. But he kept on drinking, he has a big tolerance. After dinner, you both took a shower. Separately. You went to you bedroom and he took the couch. Was a pretty big couch, he felt comfortable.

It was easy for you to drift to sleep after all that alcohol and food. And after that hot shower. But in the middle of the night you woke up scared and sweaty after a bad dream. Someone or something was chasing you in your dream.

You remembered Mingyu was there and you got out of bed to go check if he was maybe awake, to…talk to you, make you forget about the nightmare and the stupid mood it put you in. But he was sleeping. You got down on your knees, close to him and waited a little. In your sleepy state you thought that maybe if you stare enough, he’ll wake up and just guess what was going on in your head.

You whispered his name slowly but nothing. You pouted and got up to go back to bed. As you were getting up, you felt a grip on your wrist. He was awake. Why didn’t he say something? He pulled you down and you lost your balance and fell right on top of him.

Mingyu: What’s wrong, princess? Came  for cuddles?

Y/N: Uuummm I had a bad dream.

Mingyu: That’s why you’re on top of me in the middle of the night?

Y/N: You pulled me.

Mingyu: Not that hard.

Y/N: I tripped.

Mingyu: On purpose?

You whined, trying to get up, but he didn’t let you.

Mingyu: Stay here now, you said you had a bad dream. I’ll protect you, that’s why I’m here.

Y/N: Gyu..we shouldn’t. This isn’t..

Mingyu: Right? Why isn’t it right? You’re a free woman now, nothing wrong with us sleeping in the same bed, or couch. You’re still thinking about that jerk?

You drop your face into his chest, feeling stupid.

Mingyu: Darling, don’t feel bad, ok? He was stupid and now he’s gone. There are so many other guys that would be sooo happy to be with you.

You tried to speak into his chest but he didn’t understand any word. He just stroked your head and told you that you can use him as a pillow, or as anything you wanted. You were quiet and you stayed there. It felt nice. Warm and fuzzy. So you fell asleep in his arms and he was a happy man that night.

You only had Mingyu sleeping at your place one more time, but Hana was there too. It was after a little get together of the 97 crew. It’s been 2 months after the breakup and you felt good now. Crying had stopped, nightmares had stopped, and you didn’t feel lonely anymore.

Also, since you and Mingyu were closer now, you started to get into his group. It was like a ray of sunshine watching them do silly stuff on their shows and interviews. Reminded you of when you first got into kpop. Mingyu was very busy lately with Seventeen, preparing for a comeback, but he never forgot to check up on you and call you every other day.

You knew Mingyu was a ladies man and that he always had flings and affairs, mostly with female idols, actresses, models or just women that were famous. He would tell you about them sometimes and ask for advice. It seemed that he would never settle thought, like he was bored right away and was looking for something, but even he didn’t know what that something was.

You were at work one day and you had a meeting with your boss and teams about a new project you will work on. You were the team’s artist, you were skilled with your hands and very talented. You used to paint with Jungkook when you were together and you hated that every time you were drawing for work it reminded you of him. At least you’re not crying now, tight? Those days are over.

So this new project was for Hybe. Ugh! Will this man hunt you forever? You had to work with Seventeen’s team for their new promotion and when you heard you were a bit excited. Ok, maybe a lot excited, because you pretty much became a fan of them. This meant that you might be ending up meeting them, or at least some of them.

For the next few weeks, each member would come to your agency and have individual or group  shootings, and you had to be there for everything. Who was your bias? You thought it was Mingyu, obviously, but other than him, don’t ask. It’s impossible when there are so many of them and all so interesting in their own way.

Today’s shooting was for Hoshi, he was he 7th member you’ll be meeting. You got a little late at the office that day, so you were running in your heels like a crazy dude, carrying all these papers and drawings. Then, the next second you were on the floor, all your shit flying every where. You look at your skirt. Kimchy all over it. Your head hurt.

Guy: Omg, I’m so sorry, I was not looking, I had my face into my bowl.

He got up to help you. You were about to unleash the fire of hell on this guy, until you saw his face.

Y/N: Oh! It’s fine, it happens. It’s my fault too, for being late and running. I’m here for your shooting, anyway, I’m in charge of the set.

Hoshi: I’m Hoshi, it’s nice meeting you and again, I am sorry. Let me gather your stuff and help you clean your skirt.

Y/N: No no no no, it’s ok, really. I always keep extra clothes in my office just in case, I’ll change.

Hoshi: I feel so bad, not sure that spot will come off, I should know.

He pouts and you think it’s the most adorable thing ever.

Y/N: Btw, I am Y/N and a friend of Mingyu.

He looked a little stunned at your words and he became very defensive.

Hoshi: Oh, you’re that Y/N. Ok, then I should go back to the shooting, they expecting me.

And like that, he just ran away, he let you stand there with your extended hand, waiting for him to shake it. What a weird guy. But why did he say it like that? “that Y/N”. You decide to ask Mingyu about this tonight.

The shoot went smoothly, Hoshi was a natural and he is very photogenic. Though he kept giving you weird looks, almost mean and you felt like you did something but had no idea what it was.

Back home that night, you text Mingyu and tell him to call you when he’s free. He calls you in 2 hours after he gets home.

Mingyu: Y/N, hey! What are you up to? Missed me?

Y/N: Of course, why not.

And you start laughing by yourself, very proud of your joke. But he doesn’t flinch.

Mingyu: Ugh, please. Since you started watching Going Seventeen you’ve gotten insane.

Y/N: Come on, it’s cute when you say it.

Mingyu: Ok, going to hang up.

Y/N: Nooo, pleaseee Gyu! I’m sorry, I’m sorryyyy!

Mingyu: I like when you beg. Go on..

Y/N: Shut up, perv! I have a curiosity. Today I met your buddy, Hoshi and he was very awkward around me after he found out who I was. He said “oh, you’re THAT Y/N”. Spill!

Mingyu: Hmm, I have no idea. I mean, some of the guys know about you, that we’re friends, but that’s it.

Y/N: Hmm, I think it’s weird and there’s something more there. Maybe you don’t know either or you don’t want to tell me. Which is fine, I will find out on my own, I’m a good detective.

Mingyu bursts laughing. You end the call 30 minutes later and you keep thinking about that encounter with Hoshi all night.

It’s time for vacation, you and Hana got a week off work because you want to attend some concert Mingyu invited you both to. Seventeen is going to perform in Thailand and you always wanted to go there, so it’s the perfect opportunity. They will have 3 concerts there and you decided to go to one only, because you needed time to do tourist shit with Hana.

You tried to bring only your best clothes and accessories, because you knew you’ll see the guys again and you wanted to make a good impression. Plus, Hana didn’t let you bring any of your homeless stuff. You were a little pouty about that, but you’ll listen to her THIS time, because it was vacay time.

You did a lot of shopping there, spent a lot of time at the beach and trying out local food. Took tons of pictures, you wanted to post on your socials so that Jungkook will see you’re happy without him too. You didn’t know how he would see, you just liked to think he will.

You always get a nice golden tan in the summer and it somehow makes you look prettier, everyone tells you that it suits you. Hana insisted that you attend soudcheck too, not just the actual concert, claiming that’s where to fun is. Oh well, you went anyway and made sure to look your best. So you got the “girls” out, wearing a deep cut top, let your long hair flow over your back.

Y/N: Wifeu, quick answer. Should I wear something to show off my legs or my ass?

Hana: Uff, hard one. How about both?

Y/N: Nahh, too slutty for a concert.

Hana: Girl, you need to get laid again in this life.

Y/N: Legs or ass?

Hana: Damn, let’s have a little meeting about this. It’s important. So we’re going to dinner with some of the guys after the concert. What’s the first thing they will notice when they see you?

Y/N: Boos, of course.

Hana: Yes. But after that? I think they will notice the legs, since you’ll be facing them.

Y/N: Ok, so legs it is.

Hana: Unless……there will be times when we will be walking, turning, moving and stuff. And there will be people behind you, and if you wear tights pants, they’ll die.

Y/N: Come ooon, make up your mind woman!

Hana: Oh, ok. Legs. I think.

So you wore a short skirt that matched you top. Your top had a tiger print, it was just a coincidence, but Hana thought you were wearing it for a certain someone.

You were in the crowd, front seats, excited to see Mingyu and give him funny looks. When the guys came up the stage, the crowd went crazy. You could understand, these boys were breathtakingly handsome and pretty. What’s the deal with this Jeonghan guy, you think. Where does he have this audacity to look so beautiful?

Well your friend Mingyu was beautiful too, you knew that, you were not blind. Everyone knew that. And he had this stupid look on his face the entire soundcheck. He kept looking at where you two were standing. He looked…pretty hot, you have to admit. Even Hana said so.

And when the wind blew over his t shirt and shorts, it kind of…made you feel something. Were you too vacation drunk? You know you get hornier when you travel, so you blamed it on that.

The concert was so fun, you danced, singed, waved at them. Some of them recognized you from the shoots they had at your agency and they waved back. You found it funny to catch Hoshi throw some looks your way, but he was not smiling or anything, just serious looks. What’s wrong with this guy?

You knew it’s going to be a process to get out of the stadium when the concert is over, it was really crowded and you were right next to the stage, so you had to wait a lot for the people in the back to get out. Because of this, you and Hana arrived at the dinner place after the guys got there.

You went to the rooftop to find Mingyu, DK, Wonwoo, Hoshi, Jeonghan, Joshua, Jun and Minghao. You needed a drink, you were too nervous. Your hands were shaking as the guys stood up to shake your hands and introduce themselves once again. They all remembered you, except DK. And of course you knew Wonwoo pretty well.

The whole night you felt eyes on you. You still didn’t shy away to eat like you like to eat and Mingyu always praises you for this, telling you that you eat well. Whatever that means. Some of the guys asked you a bunch of questions, Hoshi was the only one to not engage with you.

Jeonghan even asked if you wore that tiger print top because Hoshi was your bias. Made you blush at the remark but you said you have no bias and that you don’t want to betray your friend Mingyu by having one.

DK: I can be your bias, I’ll deal with Mingoo, don’t worry.

Jeonghan: Yeah, he’s big but he’s not dangerous.

Y/N: Hey guys, don’t be mean with my Mingoo. I know you bully him a lot.

And you pout and put your hand over Mingyu’s hand. He blushes at the touch and he pulls his hand right away, slapping yours in a playful way.

The food was delicious there and you even put a little alcohol in you, some champagne. The guys went a little crazy because it was their last concert there and the net day they would return to Seoul. You saw Hoshi had red cheeks, sign that he was drunk. After ONE glass, guys. ONE glass. But this made him a little friendlier.

It also made him clingy with his members as he kept on kissing their faces. You thought it was cute. You love men that are not afraid of showing affection to their friends. Since you also had a couple of drinks, you felt courageous enough to engage with Hoshi and maybe find out if you did something wrong, so you could fix it.

So you saw him taking some photos of the view and you walked towards him.

Y/N: Hi!

Hoshi: Hi.

Y/N: Can I ask you something?

Hoshi: I guess.

Y/N: Did I do something to you? Because I feel like you hate me or something. And maybe there is a misunderstanding. I don’t know. If I did something, I’m sorry and please let me know so I can fix it.

Hoshi: Why do you treat Mingyu like that?

Y/N: Like what?

Hoshi: Like he’s some fool that you can walk over.

Y/N: What?

He looks right into your eyes, rage inside them. You have no idea where this is coming from and you don’t know where to go from here. You just know there is a misunderstanding between you. You would be fuming right now if it were some guy and you would just walk away, but it’s Mingyu’s friend and you don’t want to start some drama.

Y/N: I assure you, I don’t treat him like that. And I can have this conversation in front of him, right now, if you’d like, so you can see that’s you’re having the wrong idea about me.

Hoshi: Hmm, yeah, I see it. The gaslighting. That’s how you do it.

And he just hisses and leaves you there. You’re dumbfounded, what was that. You’ll need to talk to Mingyu again, he will have to tell you this time. You’ll do that after you all get back to Seoul and he gets some free time in his hectic schedule.

It’s not like you care what people think of you, it doesn’t affect you. But why did Hoshi having a bad opinion about you affected you so much? He wasn’t someone close to you. Tonight, Mingyu, Eunwoo and Hana are coming to your place for dinner. You’ll be cooking for them this time.

You ate, had some shots, played some cards and when it was time for them to leave, you asked Mingyu to stay a little bit longer because you wanted to talk about something.

Mingyu: Ok, what is it?

Y/N: So your friend Hoshi hates me and I think someone told him something about me that was not true. I know you know something that you’re not telling me.

Mingyu: Y/N, there are some things that I can’t just tell you, but why he’s like that to you, I don’t know. All I can say is that me and him had some conversations about you, maybe he misunderstood something I’ve said? It’s possible.

Y/N: You ever told him anything about me and Jungkook?

Mingyu: No, nothing about him. But why do you care so much? Just let him be, not like you’re close.

Y/N: But I want your friends to like me.

Mingyu: Why?

Y/N: Just cuz. What’s it to you?

And you slap his arm hard, making him whine and calling you mean. You invited him to spend the night on your couch, since he had to drink, but he said he has a hot date and how he’s been seeing this new girl for a month. So he left, leaving you wondering even more about the things that he doesn’t tell you.

Spring has come. Your second favorite season. Your favorite is summer, because you’re a lizard that loves the heat. And you like spring because it’s finally getting warmer, the plants are coming back to life, and it’s your birthday season. It’s also Mingyu’s birthday season and he’s planning a party.

The venue is huge and it feels like the invited the whole kpop industry. He’s so popular, you think. Why didn’t you go for him, in stead of Jungkook? Really? Why? Oh, maybe because he’s kind of a…fuckboy?

You try to look like your sexiest self, but not too over the top. You remember what happened  the last time when you looked too sexy. Some guy confessed and you ended up with your heart broken. So no, this time, going easier on the sexiness, thank you.

All night, you tried to stay close to Hana, holding her hand or her dress. You didn’t know who most of those people were. Hana kept dragging you from corner to corner, because she was into a guy from a band, you can’t remember the name. You have trouble remembering names. You bumped into the other Seventeen members and greeted each other. Hoshi didn’t even look at you. Huh, what a douche.

Trying to stay sober tonight, you want to remember it, because so many celebrities were here. You saw some members of TXT, Enhypen, Le Seraffim, The Boyz, Ateez. Mingi was not there and Hana was hearbroken. You felt good close to your 97 gang, still holding Hana’s hand.

Mingyu comes to you guys and hugs all of you, thanking you that you came. He hugs you a little too long. He has a sad look on his face and you ask if something is wrong. He shaked his head, but with a pout and a sad look. You knew it was something. Then DK and Minghao come over to chat.

DK: Hey guy, what’s up? Shall we do some shots?

Mingyu: Yes, and nobody can say no.

You all do 2 rounds of shots. Then you see Minghao coming closer to you.

Minghao: How’s tonight treating you, you having fun at the party?

Y/N: Hmm, so and so. I’m not a social butterfly like Mingyu here, but at least I have my friends.

Minghao: You look gorgeous, I have to say. You have great taste.

DK: Hao, did you just tell her she tastes good? Wtf?

You and Minghao start laughing. DK could be such a clown sometimes. While you were laughing, Minghao was leaning a little towards you, touching your shoulder and Mingyu noticed that and slapped his hand off you. He made it look like it was in a funny way, but you felt that he was protective. But come on, Minghao? He’s the sweetest guy, don’t need protection from him.

The night was a success, even though Mingyu seemed to be really stressed out. But probably because he wanted all to turn out ok.

You were back at home, 3 AM, when your phones rings. It was Mingyu.

Y/N: Mingoo, birthday boy, what’s up?

Mingyu: Can I come up?

Y/N: You’re here?

Mingyu: Yeah.

Y/N: Come up.

Now you were worried. His voice seemed a bit off, different. When he enters your apartment, the first thing he does is to hug you tight and you hear him sobbing.

Y/N: Gyu, what happened?

Mingyu: She was supposed to come tonight but she just ghosted me.

Y/N: Who?

Mingyu: I was seeing a girl, Y/N. She broke up with me one my birthday, with a lousy text.

Y/N: Aww, come here.

You hugged him some more, kissing his head.

Y/N: Come on, let’s sit. You want water, food?

Mingyu: Water, please.

He gulps a whole glass of water and calms down. You had no idea he had a serious gf or that he had feeling for someone. He was always a mystery.

Y/N: Wanna talk about it?

Mingyu: Not right now. Can you cuddle me tonight, please?

He was looking so sweetly into your eyes that you couldn’t say no, it was your time to be there for him and you will do whatever he needs you to do.

You let him take a shower, made him a sandwich. You know he’s a big boy and needs to eat. Made him hot tea to help him sleep and put him into bed. You put a warm blanket over both of you and hold him close to you. Felt his breath on your neck and from time he would make out little cute noises. You could tell he was hurting.

You started stroking his hair slowly, telling him it will be ok and that you’re there for him.

Mingyu: Y/N?

Y/N: Yes, Gyu.

Mingyu: What if we…

Y/N: What

Mingyu: No, nevermind.

Y/N: I hate it when you do that. 

Mingyu: There is something I need to do.

Y/N: Ok, what is it?

Mingyu: Will you say yes?

Y/N: But I don’t know what it is.

Mingyu: Can’t you just…trust me?

Y/N: I do trust you.

Then he lifts his face from your shoulder and he is laying now on his side, facing you. He cups your face with one hand and brings his face close to yours, almost touching. Is he trying to kiss you? If he does, will you let him? He might be just drunk and will regret it tomorrow. And what about you? Do you want this? Thousand thoughts flooding your mind right now. If you’re being honest with yourself, you have thought about him that way.

You have looked at his lips one to many times and wondered how they feel like. Wondered how you’d feel under him, in his strong hands. You blamed it on the horniness and nothing else.

Your heart starts racing and when he puts his lips on your, you let him. You let him kiss you. And you like it, it feel right. But also wrong. But you know what? Get fucked, Jungkook, you deserve this. You deserve I make out with your friend.

He’s being so soft with you, so careful not to break you. Your lips open for his tongue to lick the inside of your mouth. You can feel heat raising inside you and you moan his name into his mouth. That was like a wakeupcall for him, because he stops and pulls away.

Mingyu: I’m sorry, shouldn’t have done that. I’ll go sleep on the couch.

And he leaves you in bed, alone and turned on. You were so turned on that you didn’t try to go after him, because you needed release right then and there. So you took matters into your hands, while thinking about Mingyu and what would he do to you. While you rubbed your clit slow, you imagined he was eating you out, pushing his fat fingers inside your soaked pussy. You could feel wetting the bed, you were that wet. You tried to fuck yourself with your fingers, but after a few minutes, you felt it was not enough. Damn you, Kim Mingyu! You needed him. Wanted him. You needed him to be inside you, fucking into you hard.

You got out of bed, took your clothes off and decided to go to him and just hope he won’t push you away again. If he kissed you, then he wanted this too, but he needed to know now that you wanted it also. So you went into the living room and you laid your naked self under his blanket, next to him.

He didn’t wait, he didn’t say anything, didn’t hesitate. He just took you right then. He felt like fire all over your body. His kisses so passionate, his lips all over your body. Licking your ear, your neck, whispering filthy things into your ears. His hands roaming all over you, squeezing your breasts, licking them with hunger and sucking on them. You started to pull him into you, wrapping your legs over his waist.

His cock felt so hard and big under his pants, rubbing on your naked pussy. You needed him so bad.

Mingyu: God, I’ve been wanting to have you like this since forever.

Y/N: Touch me, Gyu. Please!

Mingyu: I want to taste you so bad, baby. Want to taste your pussy and feel it cumming around my tongue.

Y/N: Fuck! Do whatever you want to me

His mouth traced lower, to your tummy, leaving open mouth kisses, to your hips and finally to your pussy. Licking your folds and feeling how wet you were for him. Teasing your poor clit that needed attention and release so bad.

Mingyu: You’re so wet for me, fuck! You’ll feel so good around my cock, princess

He started to lap at your clit fast, pushing a finger inside you. He felt you were so tight around one finger, he needed to prep you more for his cock. A second finger goes inside and you clench so hard around them.

Mingyu: Right there, baby? Gong to cum on my fingers like this?

Y/N: Yess, don’t stop. Please, Gyu!

And you came so hard that you were seeing stars. You pulled him by the shirt up to your face and tried to get him naked. You wanted to see him naked so bad, to run your hands all over his sculpted body.

Y/N: You feel so good naked, rubbing on me! I need you, Gyu

Mingyu: Tell me how you want me, baby

Y/N: I want you to fuck me hard, want you inside me. Ruin me!

Mingyu puts one hand around your throat, squeezing slow and getting tighter by the minute. Starts to kiss you hungrily. The other hand he used to hold your waist down. Then he begins to push into you and you can’t control your moans.

He thinks you sound so filthy right now and he loves it, wants to make you moan louder. Wants to know he’s making you feel that good.

Y/N: Oh god, Gyu! You feel so good, fuck! You feel so fucking big

Mingyu: You’re taking my cock so good, baby. So tight and wet for me. Wanna make you cum all night

You loved that he was so vocal and so rough but at the same time gentle.

Y/N: I feel so full. Please

Mingyu: You looks so beautiful right now. On my cock, while I split you open

Mingyu: Want me to fuck you dumb, princess? Need me to make you forget about all the other cocks you had?

Y/N: Yesss, fuck!!! I’m coming

He feels you clench around his cock so tight that he can’t stop his own orgasm,  releasing inside you deep and hard

Y/N: Shit! Fill me up, Gyu? Fill this pussy deep

You couldn’t believe what was coming out of your mouth. You felt like such a slut and you loved it. And he didn’t stop, he kept going with the thrusting. And you felt like the orgasms kept of coming. You were lucky that you could have multiple orgasms, sometimes they would not stop for minutes, and you had to take a break.

You kept on fucking for the next hour. You came multiple times and he came two more times inside you. He loved fucking his cum back into you. After this you two stopped and laid next to each other, sweaty and out of breath.

Y/N: Gyu?

Mingyu: You wanna go again?

Y/N: I want to suck you off

Mingyu: Shit, do whatever you want, baby

You went down, tracing wet spots with your tongue all over his body. He was putty under you and moaned so loud when you put his still hard cock in your mouth. You couldn’t take it all, it was too big, long and fat. You’re sure you’ll be sore for days after tonight.

Y/N: Want to cum in my mouth too, baby?

Mingyu: Fuck I want it so bad!

You keep on pumping his cock into your mouth, moving your mouth fast over his length. Moaning into his cock, sending vibrations throughout his whole body.

Mingyu: I’m going crazy here. You’re going to make me cum so hard

And he spills his seed down your throat, pulling your hair, arching his back off the bed and moaning so pretty. He looked fucking gorgeous when he came.

After you both settle down, breathing back to normal, you decide it’s time to clean up and you take a long hot shower. The sheets on the couch are ruined, so you sleep on your bed.

Y/N: Gyu?

Mingyu: Yes, princess

Y/N: What does this mean for us now? Will this ruin our friendship?

Mingyu: I have a confession. I’ve been in love with you since we met and I’ll be damned if I let you get away again. You’re finally mine now, if you want to be mine

Y/N: I do, Gyu, I do want that

You were not sure what you felt for him, but you knew he made you feel safe, he treated you good and made you cum 1000 times. Are you in love? What if his e comes back? He just cried for her a few hours ago, there must be some feelings there. You had so many questions and it was making it hard for you to know how you felt for him. Because he felt like he was surrounded by fog and you needed to fight it and make it go away with great effort. You knew he was a complicated man and you only hoped this will not break you again.

He didn’t let go of you the whole night and you thought you’ll never meet a more clingier man. In return, you showered him with kisses because he was just sweet like that.

[dilute-flower]

Remember me

Warnings: smut if you blink, undetailed description of sex

A/N: Ayo, here's another old one of mine. This was my personal favorite of my own stories, mostly because of the end hahaha

The last sentense always makes me want to kick and scream into my pillow from the fluffness.

I started writing a few new ones and will post one soon. So stay tuned! 🖤

The accident happens when you are fifteen, on a stormy autumn night. That’s all you remember.

Your parents – and the healers – fill you in of course, on multiple occasions, but it’s all you remember. You don’t remember the curse hitting you, or the masked woman casting it at you. You don’t remember being rushed to St. Mugos or being in ICU for almost two weeks.

What you do remember is a healer telling your parents that you may suffer from short term memory loss. That it’s an uncommon curse that hit you that night and that with time, it will hopefully go away.

It doesn’t.

At first, it’s hard. At first, it’s just about everything. You don’t remember what you had for breakfast. Don’t remember how you got to class, or what the next one will be. Over time, though, you, your parents, and your healers come up with a few methods to help you remember certain things. Making lists helps the most, as does setting alarm clocks.

And the healers aren’t wrong. Your memory does get better over time, but it doesn’t go back to normal. And by the time you are seventeen, of age and finished with school, they’re pretty sure that it’s not going to get much better.

The thing about your memory is that you cannot choose what you do or do not forget. It’s not something that’s set in stone. There’s no equation to say who and what you will remember the next day and what you won’t. Sometimes they’re simple things like names. And sometimes, after meeting a person enough times, you eventually remember them. Sometimes you don’t. Sometimes on bad days, you forget the people you’ve known for months and then on good days, you remember them again, clear as day.

On bad days, you have difficulty remembering where you put your wand and must set an alarm clock to remind yourself to take your medication, to eat lunch. On bad days you sit outside on a bench, pounding angrily on your head, because you can’t remember where you are, how you got there and how the hell you’re supposed to get home.

Thankfully you have more good days than bad. Thankfully, you have a few friends that have been around since before the accident – once you can remember – and they help you through the rough days.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.

You meet Severus when you’re twenty-three. Or well, you’re pretty sure you do, anyway.

You start working at The Three Broomsticks, Rosmerta being your older sister, has no problem hiring you and you live together in the small flat above the pub. You find out right away, that bar tending is something that comes easy to you. Something that you can work with.

You make lists of all the whiskeys and beers available and tape them behind the counter just in case you forget. And after two years of working there, it’s very rare that you do. When a customer orders a drink, you make sure to either make it immediately, or write it down so you don’t forget. And while it’s challenging, especially on busy night, it helps. It helps to work somewhere fast-pasted. It helps to work somewhere where you to be on your toes.

You happen to meet Severus on a relatively busy night.

Saturdays are always busy, at least during the school year, and while you’re not the only barmaid working, you’re swamped. Thankfully, Rosmerta is back there with you, helping and reminding you if you forget something, which thankfully is few and far between. You’re having a good day. Saturdays are good days.

You’re in the middle of making a drink for a regular when a young, blonde man, as well as a couple of other people take the three open seats on the far end of your side of the counter.

"I'll be with you in a minute," You call, finishing up.

And then you forget.

Someone else in front of you orders a drink and you begin to make it before you glance to your left again.

Shit.

"Sorry about that," You say, once you finally make it to the far end of the counter, "What can I get you guys?"

The blonde orders for the three of them. And while it's something easy - just three Butterbeers - you scribble it down quickly on your notepad, just in case. As you walk away, you hear one of the three of them remark on it -

"She really needed to write that down?"

- and have to bite your tongue. While you’ve dealt with your fair share of bullying over the years because of your memory, you still have a hard time not saying anything back. You have a hard time not picking a fight with someone twice the size of you.

"They're not worth it," Rosmerta always tells you, as if you don't remember the million other times, she's said that to you. And while you know she's right - how are they supposed to know? - You still can't help the way it makes your blood boil.

You make the mistake of setting the notepad down after taking their order, mind too focused on ways to tell them off, and it takes you almost five minutes before you remember. Thankfully, they're still waiting, and you rush over with their drinks, without even so much as a "sorry" or any other kind of parting word. Rosmerta would be disappointed, but you don't care. They were rude.

As you turn to walk away, you hear another one of them grumble -

"Jesus. Took her long enough."

- and you’re about to turn on your heel, but a voice stops you.

"You can at least try not to be such a dunderhead and show some manners." The silky voice drawls angrily. You turn around to see a dark-haired, handsome man sitting next to them, fire whiskey in hand. You can’t remember serving him.

“P-Professor Snape, I –we…” The blond splutters.

“I can distinctly remember that I have taught you better.” He narrows his eyes at them before hissing, “Now pay for your drinks and leave before I forget myself.”

They do as they were told, and you internally thank the stranger.

At the end of the night, You and Rosmerta are closing when she chuckles softly to herself.

“What’s so funny?”

“Severus,” she says, holding a small piece of parchment up. You raise an eyebrow as in ‘who?’ and she explains. “The one that told of these jerks earlier. He’s a regular. You should recognize him by now.”

It takes a second for you, but eventually you remember. How could you forget about that uncomfortable encounter? “What about him?”

She hands you the parchment, allowing you to read it for yourself. “Seems like he likes you.” She remarks.

You sigh, snatching the paper from her hand and look down on it. And scrawled ot in a spidery handwriting is a small note, it reads, “Sorry about these jerks. I tried to teach them better.”

You snort and fold the parchment neatly to place it in your robes.

“A regular, you say. Is he a teacher at Hogwarts?”

“Yes. Severus Snape. I remember him from his school days. A nice bloke. But he never happened to have many friends and there were rumours he was a death eater…” She mutters.

A chill runs down your spine at the word death eater.

“But these rumours pretty much died after he started working at Hogwarts. No one truly believes Dumbledore would have hired a death eater.” She laughs and turns to look at you, smiling.

“He should be around your age, maybe a little bit older. He is pretty cute, isn’t he?”

“I don’t even remember what he looked like,” You respond, rolling your eyes.

“Really?” Rosmerta asks, suddenly feeling bad.

You can’t help the grin that stretches across your face at that.

“Oh, you asshole!” She yells, smacking you with her tea towel.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

The next day you open the pub by yourself, and not even thirty minutes later, a tall handsome man with long black hair walks in and sits down.

You abandon the rag you use to wipe down one of the tables and take your place behind the counter, sans-notepad. “What can I get you?” You ask, leaning slightly against the countertop.

The man eyes you for a moment, as if expecting something else, before he clears his throat. “I, uh – Just a Butterbeer, thanks.”

You retrieve his drink for him, take his money and as you’re about to go back to cleaning you’re interrupted.

“I’m sorry again,” The man says, catching your attention and causing you to turn around, “About last night.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, racking your brain for something – anything –

What did he do last night

Before giving up.

“What happened last night?”

The man stares at you for a moment, mouth open, before he groans, “Oh Merlin, you don’t even remember. Now I’m just the asshole who’s reminding you.”

You can't help but smile slightly at his obvious discomfort. He seems nice – slightly grumpy and maybe a little stressed - but nice. And though he seems like he's in agony, apologizing for something that you don't even remember, you decide to milk it. He is pretty handsome, after all.

"Trust me," you joke, "I don't remember a lot of things."

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.++..+.+.+.+.+.

The third time you see him, you remember his face, but not his name. It's on a Friday night, before the pub gets busy, and he's there alone. As usual, you assume.

You chat with him for a minute - just small talk - all while trying to force yourself to remember his name. You remember that smile, his cheekbones, and his dark eyes from the last time you saw him but not his name. Of all times for you to forget something...

You want to smack yourself, but thankfully, someone greets him with his last name and his first name hits you like a truck, repeating it in your head, over and over again -

Severus Snape. Severus Snape. Of course, it had to be a weird fucking name.

Rosmerta comes in to close that night, and when she walks behind the counter, she grins wide at you.

"Oh Merlin," You mutter, "What's that look for?"

"Nothing," she says as she passes you, but her grin doesn't fade. "Severus is here."

You role your eyes. "I'm aware of that."

"Just thought I'd remind you," She teases back. And when it earns another eye-roll from you, she adds, "He's checking you out."

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.++.++.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

The fourth time that you see him, you still can't remember his name.

And the fourth time you see him, Severus asks you out.

"I-I just wanted to know if m-maybe you wanted to get coffee or something or-" he’s saying, all nervous, and stuttering, and while it's flattering and of course you want to say yes, all you can think of is the fact that you can't remember his name. That you don't even know how many times you talked to this guy now. You know it's a few, and you know that he is a teacher at Hogwarts but that's all you can remember, and eventually, you reach up, pinching the bridge of your nose and closing your eyes tight.

Severus seems to take that as his cue to stop talking, and your eyes immediately fly open.

"I'm sorry-" Severus stops, but you cut him off.

"I'm sorry," You insist, "But what's your name again?"

And while - for a split second, there's that tell-tale hint of worry in his eyes - he manages a smile, and says, "Severus."

"Severus," You repeat, remembering something your healer told you -

Repeating someone's name at least three times after you meet them helps you remember it.

- "I'd like that, yeah."

Severus’ eyes widen, as if your answer catches him off guard. "You-"

"Yeah, I'd like to get coffee with you," you confirm.

By the end of your shift you have set an alarm for two-o-clock on Tuesday -

Date with Severus. The handsome teacher from the pub.

- you note in your little notebook.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.

Severus is an absolute gentleman. And throughout the date, your previous suspicions of him being an intelligent, interesting man are confirmed. You’re happy and talkative and bright and he’s reserved but listens carefully to anything you say. And as you talk, you can't help the way that your eyes linger on his lips or hands or even his hair, as if trying to memorize him. 

And as you talk, sitting in a little corner of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, you start dreading a certain part of your conversation more and more. You start dreading it because you really do like Severus. He's got a good sense of humour and an even better taste in literature and he wants to travel too and -

And you hate dates, because at some point, you have to decide if the person is someone you'd like to keep seeing. And at some point, you have to tell them about your memory. And sometime after that point, the person in question decides that they don't want to see you anymore.

After a couple of hours - long after your coffee has gone cold and you've run out of new things to talk about - you realize that you’ve reached that point.

You open your mouth to say something, but Severus speaks first.

"Look, I don't want this to come off as too forward," He starts, "And if you're not interested I’d understand completely. But I really would like to see you again. Outside of your work, obviously."

And your heart absolutely sinks.

You clear your throat, "I uh, I actually need to tell you something, first."

+.++.+.+.+.++.++.+.++.+.+..+.++.+.+.+.+.+.+

When you get home early that evening, you shut the door behind yourself and sink to the floor, head in his hands. Rosmerta is up from the couch within seconds, crouching down in front of you.

"(Y/N)?" She asks softly, "Is everything okay?"

You just groan in response.

"Did he-" She starts, but you cut her off.

"He's fucking perfect," You mutter through your hands, and at that, Rosemerta lets out a laugh.

"So, I take it the date went well?"

You nod against your hands, still hiding your face. "More than well."

"Okay..." She says, cocking her head to the side, "So what's with the little fit about?"

It's silent for a few beats while you compose yourself before you pull your hands away, muttering, "I don't want to fuck it up."

"(Y/N)," She groans, "You're not going to fuck it up."

"I might not, but this might," You reply, pointing at your head. And though Rosmerta doesn’t say anything in response, you know very well from experience that it’s a possibility. Even though Severus had seemed completely fine with it, even asking a few questions, wondering what he could do to make things easier for you, there’s still a possibility that your memory could ruin things. There’s always that possibility.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

Thankfully your next two date fall on good days.

When Severus shows up at the flat, you answer the door with a smile, letting him in without missing a beat. And while you ask a few questions that you already asked on your first date, Severus doesn’t even mention it. He doesn’t even bat an eye. He just repeats his answers, as if it was the first time that you asked.

And when Severus brings you home after dinner – thankfully remembering the way to the flat when you draw a blank at first – he walks you to the door, fingers lingering on your arm for a few seconds.

"I had a great time," Severus says, and Merlin it's so cliché it hurts.

Even you catch it, smirking before asking, "So is this where we kiss or...?"

And with a small smile, Severus shrugs - "I guess so," - and leans down, hand soft on the side of your face, and places a quick kiss on your lips.

On your third date, you watch some movies and while you're sitting close on the couch, Severus’ hand resting easily on your leg, something hits you.

"We've kissed already, right?" You ask, turning to look up at him, and to your relief, the look on Severus’ face isn't of disappointment. It isn't a look that says "oh, Merlin she's already forgotten."

No, instead, it's a wide, endearing smile before he nods. "Yeah, we have."

You nod, vaguely remembering it. It had been cliché, outside of your flat door. "Refresh my memory?" You try, and at that, Severus actually laughs.

"How many times have you tried that line?" He asks, even as he leans in close.

You shrug and deadpan, "I don't remember."

And to your relief, Severus’ smile only widens. "Oh," He says, voice lowering as he tilts your chin up, just slightly, thumb running over your jaw, before sealing your lips with his.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.

Your fourth date ends in tangled limbs and out of breath gasps, and Severus pressing a wet kiss onto your temple as he rolls off you, sweaty and gross, but also still attractive as ever. you watch the way the muscles in his back move as he reaches over for his wand to cast a cleaning spell. You find yourself staring, eyes following the slope of the small of his back, down his cute butt...

Severus sighs happily, rolling over to face you again.

You mimic him, propping your head up on your elbow. You find your eyes mapping out Severus’ lean chest as well, down his neck, noting the way his collar bone juts out, just like his hipbones and -

"Eyes are up here," Severus teases softly, and you glance up, smiling.

"Sorry," You mutter, "Just storing it away."

And he flashes you a sly little grin, glancing at the clock over his shoulder. "We've got some time before your sister gets home," He says coyly, "If you want me to refresh your memory."

You chuckle, "You think I need it?"

He nods in response, leaning in to press a quick kiss on your lips. Then another. "Definitely," He murmurs in between pecks, "You know, just in case."

The morning after your fourth date, however, begins with you rolling over in your bed - expecting a big, empty space to your right, and finding another body lying peacefully next to you. Your eyes fly open, your hand coming up to cover your mouth before a scream could escape, and you immediately scoot backward so fast that you actually fall off of the bed with a loud thud.

"Fuck," You mutters, "Fuck, fuck-"

You rip one of the blankets off your bed when you realize that you’re completly naked on the floor and quickly wrap it around your chest, just as the man in your bed stirs, turning over.

"(Y/N)?" He asks, silky voice sleepy, “You alright?”

"Rosy!" You call, voice wavering, even as you make eye contact with him. And while he isn't bad looking - and while you are certain that he's in his bed for good reasons - you can't for the love of God remember who he is or how he got there or what happened last night, and that terrifies you. It always has. The worst days are the days that you can't remember the entire day before. The worst days are when you can't remember someone that you’ve met multiple times.

Your bad days have been the cause of many breakups, and though you don't know the context of the man in your bed, you already know that it's safe to assume that this episode - that you on the floor, on the verge of a panic attack - will more than likely scare him away, too, just like everyone else.

Thankfully, a half-awake Rosmerta bursts through the door, pausing for a moment when her eyes come to rest on the half-naked Severus in your bed, before making her way to you. You’re on the ground, clutching the blanket around your body and gasping for air, eyes wide, body trembling.

"Hey, hey," She murmurs, kneeling in front of you, holding onto your arms, "you’re alright, it's okay. Deep breaths. Can you do that? Take deep breaths for me."

"Is there anything I can do?" Severus asks quietly from the other end of the room, and without even looking up, Rosmerta replies.

"You can get dressed," She says, eyes still on you, "And get me a glass of water, please."

"Hey..." She breaths, catching your chin with her fingers when you start to breathe heavy again, gaze lingering on Severus for a second too long, "Look at me. You're alright, okay?"

You nod shakily, sucking in a few quick, deep breaths, "Okay."

"Do you remember anything?" She asks, he hands rubbing up and down your arms softly, soothingly.

You shake your head back and forth in a fast, jerky movement.

"Nothing?" She asks, just to be sure.

"No," you rasps, "I don't know who that is, I don't-"

"Shh, it's okay," She coos, "It's alright, you'll remember, just give it time, okay. This has happened before, remember?"

You nod shakily, "I know."

"So you'll be alright, just take deep breaths," She instructs. There's a rustling on the other side of the room and she glances up to where the dark-haired man stands in the doorway. He doesn't step foot in the room, though, for fear of overstepping some invisible line, and though you don't remember him, not yet, he can't help but like that.

He doesn't look hurt or angry, just concerned.

Rosmerta convinces you to take a hot shower -

"Maybe it'll clear your head."

- and while you’re certain that it won't help as much as she hopes it will, you do need a shower. You feel gross and sticky, and just the thought of why makes your head spin and your stomach feel sick.

While you’re in the shower, Rosmerta waits with Severus in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee.

"I can leave," he says quietly, looking down at his mug, "If I need to."

She eyes him carefully at that, as if she's heard those words before. And hell, she probably has. "Do you want to leave?" She asks at last. The question is laced with plenty of unspoken words, the most prominent being “If you leave now, don’t plan on coming back.”

And while Severus is quiet for a moment, he's certain when he answers with a soft, "No."

"Then you don't need to," She replies, shooting him a smile as she sits down across from him at the table. "If you have any questions, now is the time to ask."

Severus takes a deep breath. He knows that Rosmerta is used to this. She's used to seeing people that get freaked out by you and your memory and your episodes, but Severus isn't one of those people. He's not freaked out. Concerned, but not freaked out.

"Is she going to be alright?"

She smiles, "Oh yeah, she'll be fine. She bounces back pretty quick nowadays."

"And she'll-"

"Remember you?" Rosmerta supplies, seemingly reading his thoughts, "Yeah. I can't guarantee that she will today, but yes, she will."

Severus nods, and it's quiet for a moment before Rosmerta is speaking again.

"Snape."

"Hmm?" He looks up, and to his surprise, she looks incredibly serious, hands gripping her coffee mug tight.

"Are you serious about this?" She asks, eyes narrowed, "About her?"

The question catches him a little off guard and he stammers for a moment when he answers, "I uh - yeah. Yeah, I am."

She watches him for a few seconds, expression unchanging, as if trying to read him, and it hits him hard - though he had already suspected it - that this isn't the first time that you have been through this. That it's not the first time that she's been through watching people get scared off by her sister.

"I'm not going anywhere," He says, keeping eye contact as he speaks, "Unless she asks me to."

You don't ask him to.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.++.+.+.+.+.+.+.++.

Six months later you start writing the notes to yourself.

Severus is at your flat or the pub more often than not, and one evening he sits down next to you in the living room as you’re pulling a new composition notebook out of a bag and writing "Severus" on the front of it in big, black letters.

"What are you doing?" He asks, handing setting you coffee in front of you at the table.

"Making a list," you mutter, as if it's a no-brainer. You open the notebook up to a fresh page, but don't begin writing anything yet.

"A list about me?" Asks Severus, reaching out to thumb at the notebook.

You nod. "When uh... When I was recovering, the healers said that making lists and writing notes to yourself can help you remember things easier."

"So, you're making a list about me," he repeats, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yes," you reply in an exasperated voice, "And if you keep asking that, the first thing that's going in this list is 'Severus Snape is an annoying little shit.'"

Severus chuckles, "language -"

"Yep," You bite, scribbling something on the paper, "That's it. You asked for it."

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.

Most days are good days. Most days, you remember Severus, especially after you've been together for over a year. Most days are good, but that doesn't mean that you don't have a bad day every once in a while. It doesn't mean that you don't have a lapse in memory every once in a while, blanking on the name of the attractive man sitting next to you on the couch.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Sev," he says, before you even have the chance to get the question out one night while you're watching some muggle movie. He rests a hand soft on your knee, sparing you a soft smile, "Severus Snape, to be exact." He's had to answer the question a small handful of times now, enough to know when it's coming.

And your mouth curls up into a small smile as well - of course, how could you forget Sev? - and you mutter out a quiet, "Nice to meet you, Sev," before he shushes you, earning a laugh from Rosmerta, where she sits on the other couch.

Most days are good days, but that doesn't stop you from waking up some mornings, in bed next to Severus, mind drawing a blank. Sometimes, you'll remember him - you know who he is - but you don't remember anything about him, and that's when your notes come in handy. On those mornings, you will climb out of bed quietly, tip-toeing across the room to your desk where you open a drawer and pull out the small, beat up composition notebook.

You always flip to the most recent page - those seem to jog your memory the best - and smile.

On one particular morning, you roll over, eyes blinking open slowly, and vision taking a moment to focus on the sleeping form next to you. You know it's Sev.  you've been dating for... A year now? Year and a half? You can't quite remember, but you also can't remember his favorite color right now either. Or where he lives.

Did he move in with you? Is he just staying the night?

Without hesitation, you roll sleepily out of bed, making your way over to your desk and flipping open the notebook. The most recent page is from the previous evening, and you smile as soon as you see it.

"You love Sev's hipbones. Seriously, you fucking love that shit. If he's sleeping right now - which he probably is - look over there. I can guarantee that you'll be able to see them. Now tell me you don't want to fucking kiss them. I'm right, aren't I?"

You snort at your own note, but still glance across the room toward Sev's sleeping form. Sure enough, the blanket over him is high enough to cover his groin, but low enough to expose his lean hips, and you can't help but agree with your note. You did write it, after all.

You flip to the page before it, just for something else to read.

"You love him. And in case you're wondering who I'm talking about, he's the tall, handsome, grumpy looking guy that you're probably freaking out about being in your bed right now. It's okay, you want him there. Just go get back in bed and cuddle up next to him. You love the way he clings onto you when he's asleep, even if it does suffocate you a little sometimes. Go give him a big kiss for me or something."

And while your brain is still struggling to catch up - are Sev's eyes black or brown? – you stand up, stretching, and returns to bed.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.++.+.+.+.+.+.+.+…+.+

After one great night in particular, almost two years after you start dating, you get home late and the first thing you do is go straight to your room and pull out the notebook, before you forget.

"Severus asked you to move in with him to his chambers in the castle today " You write, unable to hide the smile.

“And I know this isn't really a journal or a diary, so to speak, but I needed to write this down for you, just in case. Because you're not allowed to forget this one. You've been dating for almost two years, now, by the way. So congratulations.

Seriously, though, Sev is the best thing that's ever happened to you. He's sweet and caring and has stuck with your sorry ass for this long. He lets you joke about your memory and doesn’t get mad and kisses your head like it'll make you get better, and sometimes you believe him. It does help.

So, needless to say, you're moving in with him as soon as possible. Rosy will be upset, but she'll be happy. She loves him too.

Now, if you're freaking out and reading this some morning or whatever and have no idea where you are or who he is, it's okay. You're home, and you love him. Now go kiss him for me."

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

Most days are good days. Most days, you have something good - or something funny or something embarrassing - to write in the notebook. And after over two years of mostly good days, you have to buy a second one.

Some days are bad, though. Those are the days that you wish you could erase from your memory forever. You wish you could forget the way that you just lost it one night, while in bed with Sev, hips arching up, up, up, when suddenly, you couldn't remember anything. When suddenly, you just drew a blank. When you didn’t recognize the face of the man above you, saying your name in soft, breathy moans, leaning down to press a kiss to your neck.

Rosy wasn't there that night, and you had been hysterical, but Severus had been there, calm and cool and collected as ever, helping you calm down, just as Rosmerta had taught him. He stays with you, even when you scream at him to get out, and he shows you the notebook, promising you that you'll remember again soon.

Most days are good days, though, and you are eternally grateful for that. It seems that every day you're together, it becomes easier for you to remember, to retain information. Every day that you're together, it's easier for you to wake up in the morning, roll over on your side and place a soft kiss on lips of the man lying in bed with you.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," you murmur one evening, limbs tangled with Sev's underneath thin sheets. Your fingers trace up and down his back, dipping down into his lower back then moving back up to his shoulders.

He smiles, "Probably be significantly less confused some mornings."

You groan in response, closing your eyes. "I was trying to be cute, you know," You mutter, rolling over onto your back, untangling your legs from Sev’s.

He rolls over as well until he's half on top of you again and kisses you quickly a couple of times. "Sorry," He mutters, grinning.

"You better be," You tease, "Don't make me write another embarrassing note about you."

Most days are good days. Most days are easy, comfortable, full of love.

Some days are bad, though, and that's inevitable. Thankfully, you have certain pages bookmarked for those days. Simple pages that read something along the lines of:

"You love him. Trust me."

Or,

"Severus Snape is an annoying little shit."

Or your personal favourite, a page you add a little more than five years after you start dating.

"His name is Severus Snape. You love him and you're marrying him today."