#my heart goes out to all my friends in the states. i'm so sorry you're going through this.

[elenadoeslife]

💔

[chuluoyi]

HAPPY MARRIAGE

- nanami kento x reader

“you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.” you have always wondered where did you and kento go wrong. in the wake of your divorce, as you both returned to single lives, you and kento would come to realize what constitutes a happy marriage is... and it takes more than just love

genre/warnings: post-divorce angst, crack, misunderstandings, arguments, hurt/comfort, bestfriend!gojo is going to help your love life, and fluff in the end!

note: this fic... goes through a major change overnight after i was struck with a wholly different plot *sobs* and then i went through a major writing block for at least a week before i know what words i'm going to write :') anyways, this isn't really proofread so please forgive any typos to the anon who requested this and others, i do hope you'll enjoy it! tagging @tiredkitten as per request <3

listen to: today more than yesterday - kim jong kook

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

No divorce ever comes easy.

When couples enter into marriage, they do so with the dream of a lifelong bond filled with love and compassion. You too did once. And even until now, you still want that for yourself.

When you married Nanami Kento three years ago, you thought it was for eternity. He was your dream man, the only man you could see yourself with. He embodied everything that was just and righteous, and he was also kind man, who would always put you first, shielding you from any sort of harm.

Even if the source of that ‘harm’ turned out to be himself.

“You don't deserve to be unhappy. and I don’t want to be unhappy, either.”

Strangely, you didn't resent Kento that much, in the end. At that time, both of you had come to terms with it and you couldn't blame anyone. But now, six months later, as you sat in this shabby bar, downing shots of gin with your thoughts swirling in an alcohol-induced haze, your emotions were all over the place, and moreover, the presence of a certain clown before you was just particularly irksome, and you knew that he was someone you could blame—

“Gojo, you prick!”

Gojo raised one righteous eyebrow. "Who, me? Sorry, but I'm not your ex-husband?"

Gojo Satoru was the witness to several milestone in your life. Insufferable as he was, somehow you clicked with him ever since your early days as a jujutsu sorcerer. You remembered sending him your handpicked wedding invitation, having him celebrating your promotions, and then coming to him with tears running down your face in the middle of the night, telling him, “We are getting a divorce.”

"You!" you snapped, slamming down your glass of gin, whipping your head around to face the blindfolded idiot that was your longtime friend. Your index finger accusingly aimed at him. "This is all your fault!"

"Wha—"

"Because of you!"

"Okay, now it's clear that you're just too far gone—"

You hiccupped, your tone laced with fiery emotion. "If it weren't for you—if you hadn't been so adamant about setting us up back then—!"

Gojo grimaced. Ah, so this was the so-called drunken musings. While it was amusing to see his friend of 7 years in this state, even he couldn't deny how a tad bit pitiful you were.

"...then maybe," you started to deflate, eyes watering and lips trembling, sniffling. "I-I won't have to go through this..."

Correction, you were so pitiful you had no idea. But still, as a longtime associate, he couldn't bring himself to abandon you there, wallowing in your sorrows all alone.

He sighed and patted your back. "There, there... what about I introduce you to other guys, hmm? See if it'll lessen the pain away?"

You shot him a look so hateful despite your bleary vision. "No! Last time you did, it ended in a divorce for me! I refuse to let you turn me into a two-time divorcee!"

"I'm pretty sure your marriage is far from my business, I'm just your kind-hearted, handsome broker—"

"Bah! You— tasteless prick!"

You burped loudly afterwards and Gojo winced, and then you suddenly (and theatrically, he might add) slumped face-down onto the table with a thud, passed out in all your drunken glory.

And Gojo could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief.

. . .

He thought then, that you were definitely going to owe him one after this.

More often than not, throughout the past six months, Nanami also found himself thinking about you too.

Despite his calm exterior, separation with you didn't come easy for him. There was a reason he married you in the first place—he had loved you, and he too wanted it to last. You used to be the reason he went home on time each and everyday, the reason he eagerly anticipated spending his weekends with.

Everything had fallen apart before either of you realized it. Some disagreements suddenly spiraled into lonely nights, no updates during longer missions, your tears, and then ended with both of you filing the papers in the city hall to end it all.

Six months ago, he thought he was final with his decision. He thought it was the best as he was faced with the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Kento, I’m not asking m-much, am I?” you asked between sobs, wiping your tears harshly. “Aren’t w-we family? Shouldn’t we be doing a lot of things—together?”

Recalling that moment now, it tugged at his heartstrings anew. Yet, despite everything...

“I’m telling you, I know my limits—”

“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you know how sick with worry I am?” you ended up shouting at him, voice quivering. “Put yourself in my shoes and think: how can I possibly sleep at night, constantly fearing that my husband might—” your voice broke, fresh tears flowing freely. “—might not come back?!”

He was the one who backed away first, who made you lose all hope, and ultimately, placed the sentence upon you.

“If you don't have it in you to... then, perhaps it's for the best that we... just get a divorce.”

"Nanami-san, you okay?"

He looked up from the sizzling barbeque grill pan to his junior, Ino Takuma, who looked concerned as he flipped the meat. "You have been staring into space for a while..."

"I'm fine, Ino-kun." He looked down and grabbed the tongs, flipping his side of beef.

Ino let out a sympathetic sigh. "Honestly, lately, you seem down."

Words he was holding back were "ever since your divorce", but Ino was pretty sure his senior understood the implicaton.

Nanami hummed. "Sometimes life just doesn't go as swimmingly... I'm fine."

Ino never really knew you that well and was curious. In fact, he was so very curious. When it comes to Nanami Kento, everything he does and has done is always with justified and sound reason, but he might be biased because the 7:3 sorcerer was his role model.

It might verge on invading his privacy, but—

"They said... Gojo-san was your matchmaker back then?" he went through with the question anyway, testing the waters. "I don't mean to pry, but I just thought it's cute."

To Ino's surprise, Nanami's lips curled into a small smile. "It's fine, Ino-kun. I think it has become common knowledge by now. Yeah... he was."

"For you to have fallen for someone who was Gojo's acquaintance... it speaks volumes about how charming Y/N is."

"Mmm," he nodded slightly as he indulged in the grilled meat. "She is."

"Nanami-san." Okay, Ino was starting to think that he wouldn't be getting his point across if he went the roundabout way. He would shoot it straight then. "I don't mean to patronize you... but if you're really that miserable, then I think you should go back to her and talk things out, no?"

Nanami put down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh, making Ino to immediately regret his blatant suggestion.

"Before arriving at such a difficult decision, of course we did try to discuss some things," he explained, his gaze meeting his calmly. "I don't take matters like divorce lightly, Ino-kun."

"But still... now—"

To drove the point home, Nanami chose to vocalize the conclusion that still left a bitter taste in his mouth to this day:

"She is unhappy with the way things are, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't provide what she needs."

Ino's gaze fell in dejection. "Nanami-san..."

Nanami chuckled fondly. “I appreciate your concern, Ino-kun. Thank you.”

In front of his junior, he could maintain composure and narrated the collapse of his own marriage as if he were a mere spectator. But in his heart of hearts, Nanami Kento wasn’t at all the stoic man he made everyone believed he was—the fact that he had failed to give you the life of happiness he promised on the day he proposed to you still stung him to this day.

It hurt him, but echoing your words, he couldn't subject you to a marriage that felt like a dull cohabitation with little understanding.

“We never really talk anymore, do we...? We never really work on our problems too. Kento, lately, I feel like... things have changed.”

Suppose what he had to do was letting you go now.

It was easier said than done, because when Nanami saw you the next day at the school—this being the first time in several weeks—he almost couldn’t keep his cool.

"Ichiji, don't be too stiff!" you slapped the poor guy in the back with a giggle. "It's just me, it's been a while!"

You didn't look much different than the last he saw you—still the chirpy self he unwittingly fell in love with, staying on top of the latest fashion trends and all. Yet, there was definitely something different about you, something he just couldn't quite identify...

And then those cheerfulness deflated when your gaze met his, eyes widening as you tried to get your bearings. "Oh—h-hi, Kento."

That's too forced. It was so unnatural that made him almost wince.

"Hello." But the tremble in his voice, too, betrayed him. "Have you been well?"

You shifted your gaze away from him, and right before you answered, you let out a cough, and that was when he spotted it: you looked kind of pale.

"I'm fine."

"Oh, that's good then."

Silence. This was the absolute worst.

Nanami exhaled. It was you he was talking to, his ex-wife. He knew you inside out—or at least, he used to. He knew you didn't like this dryness as much as he did. He had to say something.

He braved himself. "Are you here for a mission?"

You looked at him in slight surprise. "Oh... yeah."

Darn it. Another dry reply.

"There... is a cursed totem in North Tokyo," you elaborated, not really looking at him. "Gojo's out from tomorrow until next week. I'm substituting for him to assist the first years."

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Nanami found himself asking before he could stop. "I mean no disrespect, but you look a bit pale."

"I am," you snapped, leaving him surprised. It was as though he had unintentionally struck a nerve, quickly turning your mood sour. "I'm fully capable of handling this, Kento."

"Please, I don't mean to upset you. I'm just..."

Worried about you. Somehow his throat closed in, it didn't really feel right to say that now.

"—I know how rash you can be." He regretted his words as soon as they were out.

It was clearly a bad choice of words as you took offense, your expression quickly turned into one of disdain.

"How rich... that it's coming from you," you scowled.

Memories of your failed marriage flooded your mind's eye. The long nights your ex-husband didn't bother to leave you a message. How he would return home with wounds and blood staining his clothes. And now... he had the nerve to insinuate that you were the reckless one?

"I can take care of myse—"

"That's a whole load of bullshit!"

Good grief. Why must Gojo pick this exact scene to show up?

The blindfold took big strides and halted between the two of you, pointing one finger in your face.

“Last night, she got wasted. Like totally wasted! She could barely walk straight afterwards and then she had the audacity to blame me! Me! For all her mess! Goodness, I’m just a very chivalrous friend and yet—”

"Shut up!" you were horrified, face flushed with embarrassment. "Gojo, you complete jerk!"

Nanami wouldn't admit it, but there was always something between you and Gojo Satoru that made him a bit uncomfortable, even way back when the two of you were still married. Perhaps the closeness, the candidness you shared. He knew you wouldn't harbor anything for someone as elusive as Gojo Satoru, but still, it remained an uncomfortable sight for him.

Like there was nothing pleasant about knowing Gojo Satoru was the one taking care of you in your drunken stupor. You shouldn't have in the first place. If it were him, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. If he were still the one by your side—

Despite himself, thoughts like that swirled in his mind far often than he would've liked.

Suddenly, the air felt stifling. Nanami didn't like this at all, and even as you two were still harmlessly bickering, he chose to leave.

"Oiii, Nanami!"

He had barely left the room when the person he disliked the most emerged from the door, following closely behind him. Gojo evidently knew what his thoughts were. As irritating as he was, the bloke was smart, he wasn't the strongest for nothing.

"Na-na-mi! You can't just leave like that! We're going to have lunch together—"

"Gojo-san," Nanami stopped in his tracks and let out an exasperated sigh, throwing the white-haired idiot a glare so hard it would curse him if only glares could. "Please stop bothering me."

“How cold-hearted,” the blindfold replied in a mocking scoff. “No matter how, she was once your wife. How could you not care one bit?”

“We have gone on our separate ways, and if she is good with the way things are, then so am I.”

What a lie. He still couldn't help but to care. If you ever needed his help in whatever way even now, he would still move heavens for you.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Nanami,” Gojo suddenly interjected in a less playful manner. “She is really missing you, you know.”

But you had your best friend by your side, didn't you? Someone perfect, without equal. Surely, you wouldn't need him anymore.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure that she's good with the way things are?"

"What exactly is she not good with?"

"Everything? You never ask her."

This was getting irritating, and before Nanami really lost control over himself, he finally drew a line.

"Gojo-san, I'm tired of people assuming things about our current relationship," he said, leveling a piercing look at him. "We are both adults. We reached the decision to separate because we both know why. If this is your way of showing concern, then thank you—but I'd prefer if you didn't interfere any further. We're handling this just fine, and by all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore."

With that, he left. Even when he wanted to stay longer with you, even when, in his wildest dreams, he wanted to rebuild everything with you again—

He knew you were there, hearing all of this.

Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Grr... You're so stubborn..."

. . .

There was a reason why you went to the school. Yaga's sudden request and of course, the chance to see Nanami again.

But when your conversation ended in a bitter note and he walked away, a part of you plunged into instant panic, compelling you to eavesdrop on his conversation with Gojo.

But as expected from you cool ex-husband, he was all rationale and logic.

By all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore.

Nanami would think so, wouldn't he? And he wouldn't be bothered either.

You shouldn't have expected more. This was no television drama in which the couple would get back together that easily. You were living in the harsh reality of jujutsu world, which basically, was the cause of your divorce in the first place.

At one point, you found it all to be exhausting, but upon reflection, it was more painful to acknowledge that he never truly fought to keep you by his side.

Tears welled up in your eyes unbidden, and you walked away quickly, brushing them away.

This is it. There is no use hoping anymore.

If you weren't on missions, then you'd likely be drinking. This had been the undeniable truth over the past few weeks.

Gojo found both you and Nanami to be irritating. The way both of you would evade each other was just plain stupid by this point, since it was clear to anyone with eyes that you were still not over each other.

"Nanami! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight!"

And since you were such an irritable drunk, he chose to keep poking the easier target.

Nanami shot him a scathing look, definitely done. "I have a prior appointment. Goodbye."

"Hoh?! But! They'll have free drinks!"

For the life of him, Nanami just wanted to go back home. He had minus interest in free drinks and even less in Gojo himself, and he would make his points clear.

"For the last time, I'm telling you, I don't want any part in your—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Ooh, wait a minute, Nanamin! I got a call!"

Nanami gritted his teeth in pure annoyance. He truly didn't care about his call and seized the chance to walk away quickly, eager to flee.

Until—

"Hello? Yes. Yes... what? Huh— Y/N is rushed to hospital?"

...and that caused him to halt abruptly. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

You're hurt?

"I mean why—the hell? Severe bleeding?!" Gojo's voice dramatically rose, seemingly in surprise. "Whoa, uh, traffic accident?!"

Within seconds, everything as he knew it came to an end. He spun around, yanking the phone from Gojo's grasp, indifferent to whether it caught the latter off guard or not.

"Which hospital is this?" he demanded from the person on the other end, his voice rough and harsh. Suddenly, the fog in his mind dissipated, and he was consumed by panic.

"I'm sorry, sir, that's not—oh, it's Tokyo General Hospital—"

"Thank you." Nanami shoved the phone back to Gojo and broke into a sprint, in search of taxi.

At this moment, everything was a plethora of chaos—his surroundings melded into a blur, the constant honking of nearby vehicles echoed in his ears, and the relentless pounding in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing else held any significance. Nothing, except you.

Why did you get hurt? How did you even get into a traffic accident?

This was maddening. His world was falling apart hard and fast. The beginnings of heartbreak, stirring and churning in the depths of his stomach, once again threatened to drown him whole—

To others it may seem laughable that he was this shaken over an ex-wife, but precisely because you were his ex-wife was why he was running through the streets of Shibuya, opting not to take the cab as the traffic jam was at its peak.

Oh, how Nanami regretted it. He regretted a multitude of things; those long nights, silent treatments, your tears, divorcing you. If he could turn back the time, he'd do anything in his power to prevent that divorce from ever happening. He'd treasure you better, he'd make time for you more—

Because what if, now you were really slipping away from him for good? What if, he would never see you ever again?

Within minutes, he arrived at the said hospital, haggard, spooking the nurses, demanding your room number.

Thank heavens that the visiting hour wasn't over yet. He marched towards the said room, all of his logic and rationale flying out of window as he threw open the door.

And then he saw the pristine bed, IV drip, and you—

Sitting upright on the bed, turning a page of a magazine, your eyes widening and blinking at him in complete confusion—

Huh, what?

The last thing you would expect after waking up in the hospital was your ex-husband barging in unannounced, looking as though he'd just survived a whirlwind.

"Kento...?" you almost squeaked, taken aback at the sight.

His hair was a sweaty mess, his usually immaculate suit was crinkled and his tie was loosened, but it was the look in his eyes that grabbed your attention—as if expecting the worst.

“Are you alright?” he grounded out, approaching you in deliberately slow steps. “How long has it since you woke up?”

“Um... yes? Since about an hour or so.” You frowned. “Kento, what are you doing here?”

“They said you have severe bleeding, involved in an accident—”

“What! No! Did the hospital reach out to you?” you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. “I was sure I have removed you from my emergency contacts—”

“Gojo did—”

Suddenly, understanding dawned on him, and he cursed under his breath. “That rotten bastard!”

You blinked, unsure of what he meant at all. To his credit, Nanami didn’t dwell long on his thoughts and faced you once again with another fresh batch of confusion. “Wait, Gojo is your emergency contact? Why?”

“Should anything happen to me and a payment is required to settle it, he can handle the bills first?”

If Nanami didn’t look exasperated before then he sure did now. “Y/N… you…”

He released the deepest sigh imaginable before settling onto the sofa, further tousling his hair and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Did you know I ran to get here because I thought something bad happened to you?” Nanami stated in a strained voice.

Why did your heart skip a beat? Why was Nanami suddenly playing the part of a concerned husband when the time for it has long passed?

Feeling suddenly irritated, you rolled your eyes. “I just passed out due to high blood pressure. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” his eyes squared on you, quiet anger behind them. “In what sense does you passing out ever ‘not a big deal’? What have you been doing?”

"Why does that even matter to you still?" you contested. "You were the one who said everyone should stop linking us together by now."

"Y/N, you're missing the—"

"You divorced me!" you screamed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the urge to cry threatened to consume you. "You... h-have divorced me, Nanami Kento!"

Nanami felt as if a blade had pierced and twisted his chest at the sight of you—your quivering form, the stifled sobs. He had never wished to see you in such despair again.

"So why!" you finally broke down and sobbed. "Why did you play the caring husband now? Why not before? Why do you keep toying with my feelings...?"

"I'm not." Nanami grunted, getting up and approaching your bed. "I never meant to. That was never my intention. I never—"

"Then what!? What are you doing? Why did you throw me out just like that and why now—"

"Believe me when I said that I never want you to be miserable!"

You halted mid-rant, eyes wide as you gazed at him. Blinking, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. It was the first time Nanami had ever raised his voice at you. Even in the past, he never had.

But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through your abdomen, causing you to instinctively clutch it. You whimpered, a nearly involuntary squeak escaping you, feeling the intense burn inside.

Nanami immediately got a hold of your hunched form, alarmed. "What is it? What hurts?" When all you could manage were pained sniffles in response, he swiftly hit the nurses' button and enveloped you in his embrace.

"Hold on," he comforted, placing a hand over where you clutched your abdomen, trying to offer some relief in any way. "They'll be here soon, don't pass out!"

"Mmngh," you gripped his hand in response, squeezing it as you slumped into his chest. For the first time in six months, you were enveloped in his warmth once again, and despite everything that had transpired, you were deeply moved by his gesture.

It took seeing you in such distress to dispel any doubts Nanami may have had. You were so petite against him, so delicate as you squirmed amidst your tears.

Had you experienced pain like this in the past six months? The thought made his heart lurch. Did no one comfort you at all?

. . .

And that was when he decided it.

He never, ever wants to see you in any sort of pain, ever again. And should it happen, then he'll be the one staying by your side, just like this.

Alcoholic gastritis. You consumed so much alcohol that it irritated your ulcer and causes a really painful tummy ache.

You could feel Nanami's judging gaze on you as your attending doctor explained your predicament. Truth to be told, you were quite ashamed. Your unhealthy lifestyle were laid bare before your ex-husband and it made you feel like a kid being scolded for misbehaving.

After the doctor left, Nanami sighed and pulled out a chair next to your bed. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry, that... you have to see that."

But thankfully, he was unflappable as ever. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's fine."

You were kind of embarrassed of your outburst earlier too. While you didn't regret expressing your feelings, you pondered if could've done it in a less confrontational way.

At this point, you'd accept anything. Even if Nanami told you off after this—

"Let me continue from what I was saying earlier," he suddenly began, catching your attention. You perked up, and looked at him expectantly.

Nanami released a deep sigh, and the words he spoke next were ones you never thought you'd hear from him again.

"Did you remember what I said when I proposed our divorce?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. You wordlessly nodded, because it was one of the lines that made you unable to hate him completely.

"I said, you don't deserve to be unhappy." Nanami looked you right in the eyes, undaunted. "And that still stands until now."

Now fully engrossed in his words, the rhythm of your heart intensified, echoing in your chest.

"It wasn't a decision I blurted out lightly. I know you're hurt, because I am too. I married you with a reason. I have loved you. and if you were to ask me now, my answer would be the same—I am still in love with you."

Why did it feel like your vision was beginning to blur once more?

"But," Nanami's face contorted into a frown, gazing hard at you. "If staying with me is what makes you miserable—if waiting nights after nights, hoping I can make it each time haunts you so much—then I'm more than willing to release you from that burden. I don't want to subject you to that life."

Warm tears slid down your cheeks. Sniffling, you averted your gaze, looking downwards.

"Look, I make you cry again," he sighed, a mix of fondness and sadness in his voice, as a bitter smile graced his lips. One of his thumbs gently lifted your jaw, while the other tenderly wiped away your tears.

"Kento, I—" you quickly looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat. You had made up your mind. "I don't want you to leav—"

"I know," he cut in, his voice solemn, as he stroked your tear-streaked cheeks. "I know, and that's exactly why I'm going to say what I'm about to say next."

And with his next words, your heart burst into complete, utter warmth—

"Let's start over." Nanami Kento's voice was your lifeline, anchoring you and keeping you afloat. "We can take our time. There's no rush—we can return to how things were in the beginning. And when you're ready, then and only then... will I ask you to marry me again."

The one person who has your heart in his grasp, someone whom you are willing to care way more than yourself... You were openly sobbing now and yet a radiant smile broke through your tears.

There was only one answer you had in mind.

Five years later

"Yes! Yes! Yay!"

Today was sunny, just like the day of your wedding. Memories flooded back as you glanced at the grand wedding portrait in the foyer, a snapshot of yourself and your husband in blissful celebration.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the gentle smile on Kento's face amidst his typically stiff posture. You remembered his vows to you.

The one person who I will look for the rest of my life... is you. I have never met someone so important and precious to me that it hurts.

The sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Oh, he's home.

As you opened the door, your smile grew even broader, until a small figure darted past you at such speed that you were left gawking.

"Daddy!" your daughter's voice rang out with pure delight, leaping into your husband's arms the moment he swung the car door open, catching him off guard.

"Oh my, why are you so sweaty?" Kento inquired, scrutinizing your daughter with a puzzled frown, yet holding her close. "I thought we're going to the playground after this?"

"She's so excited for it that she keeps running and jumping around all the while," you chimed in with a gentle sigh, affectionately ruffling your daughter's hair as she beamed up at both of you.

Before long, the three of you set off to the playground, fulfilling the promise you had made to your daughter. As she entertained herself with the slides, Kento's low chuckle drew your attention. "What's so funny?"

"She takes after you a lot, you know," he remarked, a fond smile on his face. "The way she is just full of energy."

"Really? But sometimes she'll get this wrinkly little scowl on her face when she's annoyed—she looks like you then."

"Wrinkly...? No, surely I don't have that many wrinkles yet..."

Your laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy found in these simple, everyday moments.

Unexpected moments of joy, the comfort of family, and a love that had grown and evolved, stronger and more resilient with time...

And this, is what you'd call a happy marriage.

[dragon-kazansky]

The song in our hearts

Lestat De Lioncourt x Female Reader

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Prepare to meet my plot device lol

Chapter Three - Third wheel

You're sitting at your piano in the empty theater mindlessly playing notes. The melody is new, something no one had ever heard before. You had taken the opportunity of no one being here to come to your familiar friend and play the tune in your heart.

You were so lost in the melody that you hadn't heard the door open and close. Nor did you hear the footsteps coming down the aisle of chairs.

The call of your name as your music ending shortly, unfinished. You sigh and look up to see the manager of the theater waiting for your attention.

“Yes?”

“I hadn't heard that one before,” he says, smiling at you.

You sigh again. “Of course not. It's new. That's not why you came in here is it?” You ask.

He laughs. “No. It isn't. I want to introduce you to someone.”

You can feel yourself wanting to groan. He knew how much you hated actually talking to people, but you wanted to keep him happy. He was, after all, your only chance to perform.

You stand from the piano and hop down from the stage. Jack, the manager, rolls his eyes at you. He often tells you off for doing that during rehearsals.

You now take notice of the man behind Jack. He's about your age, sandy brown hair, green eyes. You look from him to Jack.

“This is Noah. He's a singer.” Jack states.

You nod and look between them both wondering why he wanted you to meet this man. Plenty of people come and go from this theater, you don't usually meet them all personally.

“Noah has a request and I think it's a fabulous idea,” Jack goes on. “How would you feel about playing for him while he sings? You could be a duo!”

You stare at Jack. Noah is smiling softly from behind him. He takes a step forward and you turn your attention to him.

“I adore your talent. I have seen you perform several times and every time I hear you play I feel like all my worries melt away. I want you to play while I sing. I think we could go quite far together, perhaps even be good enough to see the world.”

Those were some strong words.

“I play solo,” you say.

“Hey now, give him a chance,” Jack says. “Look, you're our best performer here. Most of our audience come to see you play your piano. I think it's time to switch things up and try something new.”

“I don't want to try something new. I want to do what makes me happy,” you tell him.

He says your name with a smile, but you don't hang about to listen. You flee the theater and seek refuge in your dressing room.

You're alone in your dressing room for a good few minutes before you hear a knock on your door. You expect it to be Amelie perhaps seeing if you're in here, but usually she just comes in. You don't say anything for a while, preferring to stay alone if it isn't her. However, the door opens and someone comes in. You turn and find yourself face to face with Noah.

You frown.

“I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave knowing I'd offended you. Please just hear me out.”

You sigh softly and turn around in your stool. Noah takes a seat on the table behind him. “I know music is your passion. I've seen you perform many times. To be able to sing while you play… that would be a dream.”

“I play solo.”

“I know… you said that. I just… I think we could be good together. Imagine what magic we could create together. How many people would come to see us?” He smiles wide, excited by the thought.

It is clear popularity is important to him.

“I don't care. Music is all I care about.” And making Lestat happy with your music, of course. After that evening with him, he has been on your mind a lot.

“You can still play your music, just allow me to sing over it. Let me voice meld with your melody.” He speaks sweetly. Almost too sweetly.

“No.”

Noah sighs and then nods. “I understand. I'm sorry I disturbed you.”

Noah takes his leave. You sigh and slump down at your dressing table.

That following Friday you're waiting to get onto the stage to play your beloved piano, especially knowing Lestat would be watching. Perhaps he would permit you to go to his house again to play a duet with him. You certainly hoped so.

While waiting for your name to be called Noah comes up beside you. He adjusts his cufflinks mindlessly in the corner of your eye. You do not spare him a glance, keeping your eyes focused on your favorite instrument ahead of you.

“Good luck tonight,” he says.

You didn't need luck. You just needed your music.

“I'm sure you'll amaze the crowd tonight.”

You once again don't respond to him. Noah chuckles. You hear your name being called and you take a deep breath before walking out onto the stage.

Upon reaching the piano you turn to the crowd, but you're not really looking at them. You're only looking for one face. You spot him up in the boxes. You smile softly when your eyes land on him. He must notice your smile because he smiles too. Knowing Lestat was there was a comfort to you.

Lestat appreciated your music. He understood it. He understood you.

You take a seat at the bench and take another deep breath. Your fingers hover the keys. You imagine for just a moment that Lestat is beside you on the bench. You think about that night in his house when you made music together and how happy you felt in that moment.

Lestat knows.

You begin to play, a smile on your face. You're so ready to give a performance to be proud of, to make this a night to remember, not only for yourself, but for your admirer too. You wanted Lestat to enjoy your gift.

However, this would be a night to remember for all the wrong reasons. As you get into it, you're interrupted by a deep voice singing behind you. Not once missing a note you glance behind you to see Noah enter the stage. He walks to the center and sings with all his might. You stare at him with pure confusion. You did not agree to this.

Catching Jack’s eye off to the left side of the stage you can see him shaking his head at you. He doesn't look the least bit sorry. You turn your eyes back to the piano and try and focus on the music. However, that attention grabbing voice is making it difficult for you to enjoy your music.

Noah was owning the stage. People weren't listening to your music any more. They all had their eyes on Noah. Now, a crowd watching you wasn't your desire, but it was the thought that they were paying mkre attention to him than your magic that irritated you.

When you finished the piece you expected him to leave, but he didn't. He accepted the applause and then looked at you, urging you to keep on playing.

You stared at him with a frown.

“Play,” he says quietly.

You grit your teeth and begin playing the next piece. He smiled back at the crowd and then began to sing. For the next half house he sang though every piece of magic you played. He had taken your moment for his own and you hated it.

Up in his box, Lestat glared at the man. He gripped his arm rest so hard it began to splinter. Who was this fool who dared take away from your beautiful melody?

Lestat could read your thoughts. This was not something you wanted. You were upset that this man had taken it upon himself to perform with you without your consent.

That would not do.

The half hour of your performance felt so much longer to Lestat. He was eager to leave his box and go down to your dressing room, however, you were still playing and he didn't want to miss a moment to lay his eyes upon you, no matter how grating that voice was. Could this even be considered singing?

As soon as the show was over Lestat left his box quickly.

You hurried down to your dressing room as soon as you were free from the stage. You began to pace around the space of the room quickly. Amelie was first to enter. She was quickly to start chatting.

“I had no idea he was going to do that. I know you said no to his request, so I knew you had no intention of that happening. I am so sorry I didn't stop him, but it was too late. When I realised what he was doing I couldn't stop him, not without making a scene.”

You don't reply, just continue pacing.

The next one to enter is Noah, followed by Jack. You glare at Jack. “What was that?”

“That was me showing you how good we could be together,” Noah says.

“I wasn't asking you!” You glare at him and turn back to Jack. “I play solo.”

“I know, but surely it wasn't so bad to give it a chance.”

“You humiliated me!”

“You two work so well together,” Jack argues.

“No. No we don't.”

Jack calla your name softly, but it's Noah who speaks up. “Look, sweetheart, do you have any idea how adored we were? We had then on the edge of their seat.”

“They were on the edge of their seat because they were straining to hear the piano!” You bite back.

Noah laughs.

Amelie steps forward and rubs your arms with comfort. You lean into her embrace and let her soothe you.

“We could go global,” Noah comments.

“No. No, I refuse to let you spoil my moment. It's my music.”

“Look, that was the most popular you had been since you started performing here,” Jack tells you. “You need to let Noah worl with you. Surely you don't want to be stuck here all your life.”

“I like it here…”

Silence fills the room as they all look at you. Amelie is still trying to comfort you. Noah and Jack are staring you down. They want you to cave in.

There's a knock at your door and then a familiar voice. “If I may interrupt.”

You feel relief when you see Lestat slink into the room. He instantly makes his way over to you, pushing past Noah to reach you. You smile as he comes over. Lestat stands in front of you and uses his finger to tilt your chin up. He smiles.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

You nod your head slightly.

Lestat smiles and drops his hand. He joins you at your side. Amelie is shocked to see him here but doesn't say anything. You feel Lestat place his hand on your lower back.

“Who are you?” Jack asks.

“Ah, I apologise.” Lestat grins. “Lestat De Lioncourt. The sponsor for this pure talent in the room.”

“I've never met you,” Noah says, looking him up and down with a deep frown.

“I said for the talent,” Lestat retorts. He then turns to you with a smile. “Shall we go, mon chéri?”

You simply nod your head which makes him smile. Just as you're both about to make your exit, Noah steps forward. “I'm sorry, but who are you? Where are you going?”

“I don't think that's your business. Come, dear, let us go.” Lestat guides you out of the room.

As you leave the theater he puts his coat over your shoulders and walks with you down the street. There's silence between you for a little while, but then Lestat breaks it.

“Who was that man?”

“I don't really know. Jack, the manager, introduced him to me earlier in the week. He's called Noah. Claims he's a fan of my music and wants to sing to it. I tried to tell Jack I play solo… but Noah took it upon himself to join the performance tonight.”

Lestat looks displeased.

“Are you alright?” You ask softly.

He turns to you and smiles. “Yes. Do not fret. I shall not let that man take away your sparkle.”

“You told Jack you were my sponsor. I don't have a sponsor.”

He grins again. “You do now.”

You look at him in wonder. “Why?”

He chuckles. “Is it not obvious?” You shake your head. He chuckles again. “I want you to bloom.”

A warmth floods your chest as the thought that this man you have only known a short while cared so much about your passion. The smile on his face almost made you believe he knew just how happy hearing those words had made you.

“Thank you.”

“There is no need to thank me,” he tells you. “This is my gift to you.”

Lestat walked you home and did not leave until he was certain you were safe inside. Even then, he took his time heading back. He was not about to let some pathetic human man ruin your beauty.

@awanderingghost @theprettiesthead @cosmixstar @theblueslytherin @katherine2098 @sawendel @floofdeloop @sitkafay @bigbaddie45 @bluscryn

@secretisme4

[mattmurdocksscars]

Exes

Summary: After a dare to call an ex goes the opposite way you thought it would, you and Matt reconcile.

Word count: 3k

It started out as a normal enough night. You and your girl friends had gotten together after a long week and were having some drinks. Then someone suggested shots. Then someone suggested truth or dare. And that's how you found yourself in your current position.

Your phone was held in front of your face on speaker as it rang. You had been dared to call an ex and after a moment of panic, you'd realized exactly who to call. There was no way he would pick up. Not only had the two of you ended on bad terms but it had also been quite some time since either of you had spoken to each other. Plus, he had nightly activities that would keep him busy. So surely he wouldn't answer-

“Hello?” You froze as Matt's exhausted voice cut through the chatter of the bar. All of your friends immediately began to giggle, covering their mouths to hide the sound. When you didn't answer after a moment, Matt said your name with concern. Clearing your throat, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I didn't think you'd answer.” You heard the sound of him moving around on the phone followed by a small hiss of pain.

“Of course I answered. You never call. So clearly something must be wrong.” Your brain was quickly putting together the hints he was giving off, even in your inebriated state. He was obviously home, exhausted, and the sound of pain he'd let out all told you he was hurt. Without further thought, you took your phone off of speaker and walked away from the table, much to the disappointment of your friends. You told Matt to wait a second before you moved so you were outside the bar where it was slightly quieter. 

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called. To be honest, it was a stupid dare from my friends and I genuinely thought you wouldn't answer.” Matt sighed on the other end.

“It's… fine. I just thought… nevermind. I'm glad you're okay. Do you need anything else? If not, I'm gonna go.” His voice was cold but you could still hear the exhaustion.

“Are you okay?” You blurt out, before you can second guess yourself. The line is tensely silent and after a minute, you find yourself rambling

“It's just that I can hear the exhaustion and pain in your voice. I don't mean to pry but I'm just worried about you. Did you get hurt again?”

“You're worried about me?” You feel your cheeks heat at his question and look down at your feet, kicking the pavement.

“I-...of course I am. It sounds like you're really hurt. I know we're not together anymore but that doesn't mean-” Your brain catches up with what you're saying and you abruptly cut yourself off.

“Doesn't mean what?” Matt asks, his voice quiet but hopeful. You sniffle, feeling tears prick at your eyes as the realization really hits you. You miss him. So damn much. And in your inebriated state you can't help but to tell him the truth.

“It doesn't mean that I don't care. Because I do, Matt. I care so much. I miss you so much. Where did we go wrong?” You ask brokenly. Matt's heart shatters at your words and he grunts as he gets to his feet.

“Sweetheart, where are you?”

“Why?”

“Cause I'm gonna come get you. You're obviously drunk and I don't want you walking home alone.”

“No, Matt, you're hurt. You don't need to be worrying about me right now.” You wipe your eyes and sniffle again. “I'll be okay. I'm sorry I called.”

“Are you?”

“...No. I'm not. I missed your voice.”

“I missed yours too.” Matt admits quietly. “I'm sorry I couldn't be who you wanted me to be. I know you wanted me to give up Daredevil but-”

“No, Matt, no! I never wanted that, I just wanted you to slow down some and take care of yourself. You were so hurt all the time and it got to the point I was scared you wouldn't make it home at night. I never wanted you to stop, I just needed you to understand that you were running yourself into the ground.”

“You- Really?” 

“Really.”

“All this time, I thought… God, where did we go wrong?” 

“I don't want you coming out because it sounds like you're hurt but… can I come to you? Can we talk this out?” You bit your lip as you waited on a response. 

“Are you sure you're sober enough for this?” You laughed, hearing the teasing edge to his voice.

“I will be by the time I get to you. Please, Matt? The thought that we could fix this…”

“It is a very tempting thought.” Matt murmured. “My place is a bit of a mess but it's open to you. It always will be.”

You immediately grinned and turned back to the bar.

“Let me pay my tab and say goodbye and I'll be there soon.”

“Stay on the phone with me? Since you won't let me come get you.” You chuckled but agreed. Swiftly, you paid your tab, said goodbye to your friends, and hurried to Matt's. The entire time, the line hung open between the two of you. Soft conversation flowed freely and you felt yourself getting giddy the closer you got to Matt's. By the time you reached his apartment complex, you were almost breathless. The alcohol had worn off on the brisk walk and you were almost wishing for the liquid courage it would have provided you. Instead, you pulled open the door and hurried up the stairs. You made it to Matt's door and got ready to knock when the door swung open. Still holding the phone to your face, hand comically in the air, you grinned. 

“Hi.” You breathed out. Matt smiled at you nervously, ended the phone call between you two, and let his hand fall to his side.

“Hi. Come on in.” He said softly. He stepped to the side, and you entered. You kicked your shoes off and slowly walked down the hall into the living room. You took everything in, from the empty beer bottles on his dining table to the open bottle of painkillers on his coffee table. Turning back to him, you looked him over.

He was dressed in a hoodie and sweats. The hoodie was zipped all the way up for once and you knew it was to hide the extent of his injuries. His hands were tucked in the pockets of the hoodie and he slowly made his way over to you. You felt sympathy well up at the way he was limping and opened your mouth before you could think it through.

“Are you sure you're up for this? You look like you're in a lot of pain.” You told him. His glasses glinted in the light from the billboard as he tilted his head at you. There were bruises hiding behind the lenses and across the bridge of his nose. His lip was split and it highlighted his frown.

“I'm fine. Like you said, the thought that we could fix this is something I can't ignore.”

“We could always fix it later, when you feel better.”

“Having second thoughts?”

“Not at all. Just worried about you.” Matt sighed and walked over to you. He hesitated before reaching out and taking one of your hands in his. You welcomed the touch and told him so by gently squeezing his hand.

“I'll be okay. I promise. Now, do you want anything or should we just get into it?” 

“Let's just get into it.” You told him. You gently squeezed his hand again before separating from him and sitting on the couch. You leaned forward and put your elbows on your knees, looking up at Matt.

“I am so sorry that I made you think I wanted you to stop being Daredevil. That is the last thing I wanted. I know how important it is to you and I would never come between you and your nightly habit. That being said, I did want you to slow down. You were getting so hurt and it killed me to spend my nights wondering if you were even going to make it home because you kept going out even when you were really hurt. If we're going to reconcile, I need to know you're going to take better care of yourself.” Matt nodded slowly at your words. There was a frown etched across his face and his head tilted as he regarded you. 

“I'll be honest, since we've been broken up I've been more reckless. With no one to come home to, I felt like there was no point in being home. Not that I'm blaming you or saying it's your fault. I just spiraled. Foggy and Karen had to set me straight. They made the point that if I ever wanted balance in my life, I was going to have to take more time as Matt and less time as the Devil. It took some time but I finally got it through my head. I'm actually home tonight because I'm healing. As you've already guessed. I won't trouble you with the details but it was bad. This is my second night home. Even with Claire patching me up, I knew I needed to give my body time to heal. So I like to think I am taking better care of myself.”

“Oh, Matt. How bad is it?” His sightless eyes darted back and forth as he shrugged, shifting on his feet. 

“Not as bad as the Nobu fight but close. Claire and Foggy stayed with me through the next day. Once I promised them I was staying home for a couple of days and would take care of myself, they left. When your phone call came through, I… I was so nervous. I was afraid you were calling because you were in trouble and I was too hurt to help…” Matt told you quietly. You teared up at his last words and put your hand over your mouth.

“I'm so sorry I scared you like that. But at the same time…I'm glad I got dared to call you. If it's alright with you, I'd like to keep an eye on you. Check in on you over the next couple of days as you heal.”

“Even if we don't work things out?” The tip of Matt's mouth curled up and you laughed.

“Even if things don't work out. But I have a feeling.”

“You have a feeling?”

“Yep. I have a feeling that everything's going to start getting better from here.” You smiled up at Matt, who finally moved to sit down next to you on the couch. He left plenty of room between the two of you and a part of you longed to close that distance but you let him have it for now. 

“Wow. So you're psychic now?” Matt teased. You laughed and settled back into the couch, turning to face Matt.

“Totally. That's how I really knew to call you. My new psychic abilities.” That caused you both to laugh though it was cut short when Matt gasped in pain and clutched his side. You immediately sobered watching him flinch in pain.

“When was the last time you took anything for pain?” 

“It's been a bit. Probably due for something.” You immediately stood up and headed to his kitchen, opening the cabinet he kept his cups in and pouring him a glass of water. You returned to the couch and took the painkiller bottle off the coffee table. You knocked out enough pills for a dose and then handed them and the water to Matt. He softly thanked you and took them. It was quiet for a few minutes before Matt finally spoke. 

“I missed this.”

“What? You, writhing on the couch in pain? Masochist.” Matt smiled and shook his head.

“No. Having you here. Being able to hear your heartbeat and know I'm not alone.” He admitted quietly. 

“You're not alone, Matt. You've got Claire, Foggy, and Karen to keep you company.”

“Yeah, but they're not you.” You suck in a sharp breath at his words. It never really occurred to you that Matt would miss you so much. You'd thought he would just keep himself busy and be fine. You realize now it was selfish of you to think of him like that. You hesitantly reach out and grab his hand.

“Do you want to try this again? I'm willing to give it a shot if you are.” You tell him and the smile that lights up his face has your heart skipping a beat. You'd almost forgotten just how handsome Matt could be.

“I'd love to try this again. I promise I'll try to be better. I don't ever want you to feel like you don't matter to me. Because you do. So much.”

“You matter to me too. And don't change too much, okay? I love you for you, Matt.”

“Say it again.” He whispered.

“Which part?”

“That you love me.”

“I love you, Matt Murdock.”

“I love you too.” 

And so the two of you spent the next couple hours catching up. You told him everything that had happened in your life since the two of you split and he did the same. It wasn't until you realized it was almost 2 am that you realized you should probably leave. You told Matt as much and he frowned.

“Don't go. Please? It's not safe out there this late. You can stay here.”

“Is that a good idea?” You asked him. 

“I'll stay on the couch if it makes you feel better. Just don't try to walk home this late.” He was serious and you could tell the idea of you leaving really made him anxious.

“Alright, I'll stay. But you're staying in your bed, mister. You are too hurt to be sleeping on this couch.”

“But-”

“Those are my conditions, Matt. I won't have you hurting yourself more for me.”

“Okay.” He sulked. But he stood up and pulled a blanket and an extra pillow from the closet, handing them to you. 

“Thank you. Goodnight, Matt. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

He shuffled his way over to his room and carefully laid down. You noticed he kept his rolling door open and smiled. 

“If you want clothes to change into, you know where to find them.” Matt called out. You nodded and quietly padded over to his room and pulled out an old shirt and some pants. You then disappeared into his bathroom. Once changed and ready for bed, you laid down on the couch and pulled the blanket over you. You noticed Matt was breathing evenly and were glad he was already asleep. You settled down and let yourself drift off.

Only to be woken an hour later by Matt's quiet shouts. You immediately shot up and ran over. Realizing he was having a nightmare, you gently carded your fingers through his hair and cooed softly.

“It's okay, Matt. You're safe. You're just dreaming. Wake up, baby. It's okay.” You just kept whispering sweet nothings to him until he finally lurched awake, eyes darting everywhere in his panic. Once he seemed to realize where he was, he settled. He swallowed thickly. 

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“Okay.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Will you…  will you please stay with me? I don't think I can go back to sleep on my own.” You nodded slowly then rounded the bed and crawled in beside him. There was a tense silence for several minutes before you finally sighed.

“Come here, Matt.” 

“I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You're not going to. I know you're not going to go back to sleep unless we're touching, so come here.”

Matt didn't say anything at first, he just laid there. For a second you were worried you had made him uncomfortable but then he sighed and carefully rolled over. Your heart broke for him and how badly he seemed to hurt. Before you could second guess yourself, you opened your arms to him.

“Come here, Matt. I've got you.”

Matt's breath hitched and then he was moving. He crawled into your arms and settled himself on top of you, laying between your legs with his head on your chest. You heard him inhale as if to say something but before he could, you settled your arms around him. He immediately relaxed into you, a soft rumble coming from his chest. You ran your fingers through his hair and gently rubbed at his back. Before long, you felt your shirt start to get wet and you felt your own eyes tear up.

“I missed you so much, sweetheart.” Matt said brokenly. “Please don't leave again. I'll do anything just don't l-”

“Shh, Matt. Calm down, I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm here and I've got you.” Like a dam breaking, Matt fell apart right there in your arms and all you could do was hold him through it. The sobs that wracked his body had to hurt but it didn't stop them from happening. You did your best to soothe him, assuring him quietly. Slowly the sobs began to fade and his breathing finally slowed as he calmed down. The odd tear still fell from his eyes but he relaxed and let himself sink into your arms. 

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize, Matt. Everything has clearly been hard on you and you finally let it out. That's okay. I'd rather you let it out then bottle it up.”

“Thank you. For holding me and for being so understanding.”

“I'll always hold you and I'll always try to be understanding.”

Matt smiled and dug his head down into your neck, taking slow deep breaths.

There, wrapped in each others arms, the two of you slowly felt the broken pieces of your hearts start to heal.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute, Chapter 4 - Law

Source for the pic

Word Count: 4487 (these just keep getting bigger!)

Warnings: Fem!Reader, This is going to be a series featuring Ace, Sanji, Law, Zoro and Kid.

Special Warning: English is not my first language!

Summary: You had your life in Grand Line City all figured out. A wonderful job, a fiancé and a shared apartment. Until you found out he was cheating. Your father, Shanks, had a horse riding accident and you decided that this was just the right time to return home. You were expecting a peaceful, uneventful life back in the Calm Belt, but, fate had other plans.

Notes: I'm really sorry if I messed up some medical expressions. I tried to Google everything first!

| Chapter 3 - Zoro | |Chapter 5 - Sanji|

Law:

Your dad's grunts and wails have been increasing both in volume and in intensity, so you let out a long breath of relief as you finally park the truck at the clinic’s - thankfully almost empty - parking space. 

“Hey, dad” you say softly as your heart clenches at the sight of your father’s sweaty face and scrunched up brows. “I'm going to grab you a wheelchair and some help, okay?”

You take his grunt as a positive answer and run inside the clinic, only noticing your dishevelled state as you catch sight of your reflection in the glass doors: your white top is not white anymore and there's a tear at the bottom; your shorts have dirt and oil all over them; you don't even want to get started on your knees and legs, which are bruised and scraped from kneeling on the dirt; and your once perfectly braided hair is no longer perfect and it is barely braided. 

You sigh as you enter the clinic and wince in pain as you step your foot wrong. You definitely sprained it when you were with Zoro. 

You drag yourself to the front desk and the blonde girl gasps as she looks at your state. “Oh, my!” She gets up hastily and goes around the desk to reach you. “Are you all right?”

You nod frantically. “I'm fine, I'm fine. I-... Kaya?”

The girl looks at you with a furrowed brow but it doesn't take her more than five seconds before her mouth turns into an ‘o’ and she exclaims your name happily. “You're back! It's been ages!”

You laugh and nod. “Yes, we should catch up. After we get my father inside. He hurt his back and-...”

“Again?” You swear this time your ears start fuming. This has happened more than once and this doctor keeps sending him home? Oh, he is going to get a piece of your mind. “Shachi, Penguin, can you be darlings and bring Mr. S. inside? He's had another incident.”

You cross your arms against your chest and frown as you watch two men go outside with a wheelchair to bring your father inside. 

“They'll take him to Dr. Trafalgar. How about you, sweetie, are you alright? You don't seem well.” Kaya was your friend from kindergarten to half of the middle school, until she went home to be home-schooled. You lost touch with her even before you left town, but she has always been such a nice friend that you actually find yourself sharing a soft smile with the blonde. 

“I've had a few mishaps with the car before getting here.” You sigh. “I'll go freshen up in the bathroom and then I'll meet my dad. Is that alright?”

She nods and points you to the ladies’ room. You stand in front of the mirror and, as you're passing your fingers through your hair, trying - and failing - to detangle its knots, you realise you should eat something. You discarded breakfast on account of that stupid asshole and his selfies, and you and your father didn't have a chance to eat lunch. 

But first, you let out a deep sigh at your appearance, you should try to make yourself presentable. You don't want to chew the doctor's ears out looking like a hobo. 

Washing up as best as you can, massaging your sprained ankle, and redoing your braid - there's nothing to be done about the state of your clothes - you deem yourself somewhat presentable and, as you leave the bathroom, you see your father being wheeled to a room so you follow him quickly. 

“Daddy!”

“Buuuuuug! The doc gave me the good stuff!” He slurs and guffaws, opening his arm and almost throwing himself off the chair to hug you. Then he turns his voice into a whisper. “He stabbed a needle in ma butt!” Shanks uses his hand to hide his cheeky laugh before he continues. “Imma stay here for a while because they'll put some more drugs in my arm. And then we can go.”

What? IV and an injection? That's the whole treatment? No. Not on your watch. 

“Yeah, that's good dad, rest.” You smile at him and then turn to the man with the brown hair who is wheeling him. “Hey, where's the doctor's office? I need to speak with him.”

“Er… I… Hum… Dr. Trafalgar doesn't like unannounced visitors…” He stutters but you silence him with an angry look. “But if you must know, it's that door.” He then chuckles nervously and wheels Shanks to a room. 

You take a deep breath and stomp towards the office the attendant pointed out to you. After one step, you stop stomping because your ankle hurts too much, but you still make it to your destination. You knock lightly on the door, because you're not a savage, but start to tap your foot on the floor when you don't get an immediate answer. 

As you raise your fist for a second round of angrier knocks, you hear a deep ‘come in’ from inside the office and you open the door, wearing a frown. 

Which is quickly turned into a stunned expression because you didn't quite know what to expect from the doctor you've been hearing about, but this was not it. 

He's hot. 

There's no other way to describe the man in front of you. His black hair is tousled to perfection and you have to swallow a lump when he fixes his amber gaze upon your own. The frown and the furrowed brows only add to his allure, as you notice the tattooed forearms and knuckles. What an interesting choice of tattoos for a doctor, you can't help but think. 

They spell DEATH. 

The rest of his arms are covered by his white coat but you can't help but wonder if he has more ink on them. But that wondering soon stops, because he's already asked you twice about what you need and you have been transfixed in the same spot, drooling at him. 

“Right, hi! My father. Shanks! He was just here.” You exclaim as if that explains everything. 

“Yes, I know. I'm his doctor.”

He stares at you. “Oh, it’s my turn.” You stumble with your words and, is that an amused smirk in the stoic doctor’s face? Couldn't be, since it disappeared as soon as it appeared. “What is wrong with him? I keep hearing that he needs to come to the clinic more than once a week because of his back. That's not normal.” You seem to regain your cool and remember that you are there to get some answers from this man. 

He leans back in his chair and gestures for you to sit but you're too wound up to stay still, so you decline and start pacing the office. You're having a hard time breathing, so you start to fan yourself with your hand. 

“You're right, it's not.”

“What is it, then?”

His fingers entwine with one another as his gaze follows your form. You're limping, fanning both of your hands now, and you look like shit. You must be quite a spectacle.

“Doctor/patient confidentiality.”

“Are you kidding me?” Does your voice usually sound so far away? Because everything seems super bright and all the sounds are blending together. You stop and grip the back of the chair tightly, your knuckles turning white from the strength. 

“I'm not. Your father is sane and, other than his back, of good health. I have discussed treatment plans with him. He knows what he has and he knows what he needs to do in order to recover. To you, I can't say anything without his explicit permission.” You see him tense up as he stares at you and your behaviour. His brows furrow further as he turns his body to the side, as if he's about to get up. 

“But I'm his daughter!” You let out a ridiculous whine and start to gasp for air. 

“And I'm his doctor.” He gets up and approaches you. “Sit. You're so pale I can almost see through you. When was the last time you ate and-...”

That's the last thing you remember before waking up in a bed next to your father. 

-*-

You blink as your eyes adjust to the brightness of the room and take shallow breaths. Your head is throbbing and the constant beeping noise from the machine is not helping you at all. You realise that the beeping machine is hooked to you through your finger, as well as an IV attached to your arm. 

You raise your torso with a grunt and see that the cuts and bruises on your legs have been tended to, and your ankle is now sporting a not-so-fashionable elastic bandage with a pack of ice sitting on it. 

“Bug! You’re up!” Your dad flails his arm in the bed next to you to get you to look at him. “Law! Kaya! Someone!”

Pressing your thumb and index finger against the bridge of your nose, you sigh deeply. “Dad, dad, there’s a button to call the nurse next to the bed, please don’t scream.”

But it’s not necessary to use the button because Kaya enters the room with a concerned smile and gravitates towards you. “Sweetie, how are you?” Her voice is so gentle and kind that it forces an immediate smile from your lips. 

“My head is killing me. What happened?”

“Well, Dr. Trafalgar said it’s probably hypoglycemia - low blood sugar - he had some blood tests done, the results should be in at any moment. Have you eaten anything today?”

You nod and are about to say yes, of course, but the words don’t leave your mouth because they are not true. You really haven’t eaten anything today. “No.”

“Then, that’s definitely it.” Kaya giggles. “I could hear you yelling at Dr. Trafalgar from where I was sitting. He looked kind of flustered when he opened the office door, carrying you in his arms.”

You blush as your eyes widen. “What?”

“Well, you were unconscious, so he carried you to the examination room.” She giggles again and lowers her voice so your father doesn’t hear the rest. “Sweetie, you two looked straight out of a romantic movie. He was carrying you bridal style with a look of concern and you looked rather frail all curled up against his strong frame.”

You keep feeling your face getting hotter as the beep from the machine next to you grows louder and faster. Kaya has always loved romantic movies, so it’s no wonder she would think something silly like this. For all you know, Dr. Trafalgar was dangling you by one arm and you banged your head on all the thresholds before reaching this room.

It would explain the throbbing headache. 

“Nurse Kaya, I do hope you’re questioning the patient about medical history and the possible cause of this incident and not engaging in idle gossiping?”

You gasp alongside Kaya as Dr. Trafalgar approaches you both, a scowl on his face and his brows scrunched. How is his forehead not permanently wrinkled from all the pouts and frowns?

“No, I was just gossiping. I’m sorry.” Kaya giggles as you gasp at her truthful response. Is she allowed to speak like this with her superior? His stare at Kaya is so intense that, after a moment, she excuses herself and leaves you two alone with your father on the other bed, seemingly distracted by a soap opera on TV, until he spots the doctor next to you.

“Oh, Law! How is my baby girl?”

“Don’t call me that, dad.” You whisper between clenched teeth. Law? Is that the doctor’s first name?

“I’m going to examine her now, Mr. S. You can watch your show.” Shanks mouths a droopy ‘okay’ and turns back to the TV. He is still pretty high on drugs, apparently. 

“Have you eaten anything today?” His amber eyes stare at yours and you feel compelled to look at his name tag, instead, but then you are staring at his chest, and is that more ink coming out from the neck of the shirt he is wearing? Does he have a chest piece?

The beeping becomes faster and you switch back to the piercing eyes. “No, I haven’t.” You say, trying to distract yourself. 

“It’s certainly hypoglycemia, then. I will observe you.”

You nod and he removes the stethoscope from his neck, pushing it against your exposed cleavage. “Breathe in.” You take a deep breath. “Now out.” You do. He takes a step forward and tells you to lean forward as he repeats the process on your back. “In. Out.” 

He reaches for a small pen-like flashlight from his coat pocket and points it at your eyes. “Look up. Down. Now the other one, up. Down. Okay, that’s it.”

“That’s it? Aren't you going to say I'm a good girl?” You giggle for a second and then stop abruptly. Suddenly mortified as his eyes pierce into your own with an unreadable expression. “I'm sorry. That was stupid. Are there drugs here?” You point to the IV and as his stare doesn't waver, the beeping on the machine just keeps getting faster and louder. 

“That's just a dextrose and saline solution. No drugs. That was all you.”

The machine just beeps louder and louder and you grunt as you rip the monitor off of your finger, rendering the beeping into a continuous, even more annoying, beep.

“Stupid thing! I think that might be broken.” You snort, wail and hide your face in your hands. Can you be an even bigger idiot? Why are you acting like this? Aren't you supposed to be yelling at this doctor on account of your father? Where has all of your bravado gone? 

Out the window when you passed out and were carried like a princess by her knight in shining armour. As well as all your sane thoughts on feminism and women’s rights, apparently.

Crap. 

“Are you done?” He asks, deadpan as he turns off the monitor and the beeping stops. Now you’re frustrated again, but you simply pout and nod without making eye contact. 

He flips through some files and hums softly. “Your blood tests came out normal. This was a simple incident of low blood-sugar, next time try not to stay too long without eating anything, or, at least, if you’re going to fast, drink plenty of liquids, tea or water, preferably.”

“I wasn’t fasting.” You mumble between clenched teeth, your eyes locked on the chipped nail polish that had come out when you ripped the monitor that was attached to your finger. 

“Whatever weird diet you are on, then. Stop it. You look extremely healthy, you don’t need it.” Could that have been a veiled compliment?

“M’not on a diet.” Your mumble is even quieter.

“Sorry?”

“I’m not on any diet, or fasting, or anything. I just didn’t eat, that’s all.” This time you speak loud and cross your arms over your chest for emphasis.

“You didn’t eat the breakfast I cooked, bug? Is this still because of that jackass fiancé that cheated on you?” Shanks is literally screaming so you know that, by now, the entire clinic knows you’ve been cheated on. Yet you simply inhale, use the back of your hand to wipe away a stray tear and nod.

“I'm going to kill him.” Shanks simply declares as he tries to get up from the bed. “Law, help me kill him.”

You glimpse that amused smirk on the corner of his lips as he watches your father struggling with the bed covers. 

“I would really like to be your partner in crime, Mr. S. But, you see, I took an oath.”

That statement makes you giggle and he turns his gaze back at you, smirk still in place, and your heart does a weird thing that makes you catch your breath. 

“Shove that oath up your-... Ouch, dammit!” Shanks’ legs get tangled in the sheets and he almost falls as he tries to get up. 

“Mr. S. please calm down. We're not killing anyone today okay?” Dr. Trafalgar turns to you. “He seems pretty determined, maybe you should distract him with something less illegal?”

Is he funny as well? He seems so stoic and uptight but he's responding to your father's shenanigans with a dark humour that's making you laugh. 

“Daddy, lie back down on the bed, we will schedule another day to kill him, I promise.” You use your commanding tone and your father grunts before settling back down again. “Besides, since it's the three of us together, I would like to ask you, Shanks, what's the treatment that Dr. Trafalgar recommended for your back because the Dr. doesn't want to share that information with me.”

Your lips turn thin as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“That's a good lad, Law. Thank you.”

You glare at both of them but Dr. Trafalgar just raises his arms defensively. “Doctor/patient confidentiality!”

“Dad!” You huff at the same time as your father groans loudly.

“Just tell her, Law. Or I'll never hear the end of it. And I still have a murder to commit.” He mumbles. 

You turn your attention back to the doctor and try your best not to give him your ‘see you could've told me earlier and we would've avoided this whole situation’ look, but you definitely give him one of those. 

“Your father has a herniated disc in his spine. This occurs when the soft inner core of a disc between the vertebrae protrudes through the tough outer layer, putting pressure on nearby nerves.” 

Your brows tighten at all the medical jargon but you're understanding the essentials, so you nod for him to continue. 

“Mr. S. experiences stabbing pain that radiates along the path of the affected nerve and can lead to episodes of intense pain and sometimes a feeling of weakness or numbness in the affected area. Activities that cause strain on the spine can make it worse. Something like bending down or lifting stuff.”

You turn to your father with a glare in your gaze, your frown heavy and your eyes watery. “I told you you should rest!” Your words are but a sliver that escapes your lips. Dr. Trafalgar continues.

“When the medication hasn't provided enough relief, as it's your father’s case, surgery may be recommended. The procedure typically involves removing the herniated portion of the disc to relieve pressure on the nerves and alleviate symptoms.”

The silence stretches and evolves into a thick fog that encapsulates the three of you within. Your next words are measured carefully, but need to be asked. “Is it a complicated procedure?”

Of course it is! It's on the spine! 

“Each case is unique on its own. The complexity can vary based on factors such as the location and size of the herniation, as well as your father's overall health.”

“And the risks?” Your gaze alternates between the doctor’s professional stance and your father's slumped and defeated form.

“Like any surgery there are inherent risks of infections or allergic reactions. Specifically to this surgery, there's always the chance of the symptoms remaining or that another surgery might be necessary. There's also a more severe risk of nerve damage, which can cause temporary numbness or weakness. Yet, in this case, I would argue that the benefits far outweigh the risks.”

“Dad…” You start. 

“I don't want to discuss this right now.” He discards the use of your nickname and calls you by your birth name, declaring his seriousness of the matter. 

Your lower lip trembles and you nod at him letting out a very soft ‘okay’. Suddenly, realisation hits you. This was probably the reason why he had the horse riding incident. It was the cause not the consequence. 

Dr. Trafalgar places a very gentle hand over yours and you gasp at the shock of his touch. “I will send nurse Kaya to remove your IV and your father's so you can both be on your way and discuss this properly.” You nod. “If you have any questions, you can always call me or visit the clinic.” You nod again, suddenly exhausted as your body starts to complain of all the abuse it suffered today. 

He leaves calling out a ‘take care, Mr. S.’ to your father at the door. Silence permeates the room as you turn and let your feet dangle from the bed, your eyes focusing on the lying form of Shanks. 

“Dad,” you start. “I know you don't want to talk about this, and I will respect your wishes, but just hear my opinion, you don't have to say anything!” You add and your father takes a deep breath but doesn't say anything so you take that as consent for you to continue. “You're young and very active. These episodes keep you from living a normal, fulfilling life. Dr. Trafalgar said that the benefits are far more than the risks and I think you should consider the surgery.”

The door opens up and Kaya comes in with a bright hello and a smile. “Think about it, dad.” You finish as Kaya stands at your side with a tray of equipment to relieve you of all the paraphernalia attached to your body. 

“So, how are we feeling?” She asks you as she swiftly disconnects the empty IV from your arm. 

You sigh and give her a lopsided smile. “I'm feeling better, Kaya, thank you.”

“Aaaaaand?” She giggles at you and your brows scrunch at her. “Dr. Trafalgar?”

You feel your cheeks grow hot, even if you will them not to. “He's very competent. He explained to me everything about my father's condition. He's very professional. I'm impressed.” As you admit this, you realise that maybe you should apologise to him for your earlier behaviour but maybe he's with another patient now. 

“That's not where I was going.” She pouts at you. “He's single, you know?”

You wince as she takes out the needle in your vein and puts a bandaid over it. “That's… okay, I guess.” You don't really know what to say. Kaya seems to be trying to set you up, but you really don't want to think about men at this moment. 

“You're impossible!” She mutters your name as she shakes her head and removes the melted ice pack from your ankle. “There, you're done. I'll take care of your father and you both can leave.”

-*-

Penguin and Shachi insisted on taking your father to the car themselves and you were at the desk with Kaya, settling the payment and documents. You were exhausted. Physically and mentally. The news about Shanks had left you preoccupied and you were having trouble processing. 

As Kaya finished inserting some data on the computer, you sighed deeply and pressed the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb, closing your eyes and trying to suppress the growing throb in your head. 

Suddenly, you feel a presence on your side as a deep voice fills the air. “Are you feeling well?”

Opening your eyes and forcing a weary smile on your lips you slightly nod. “Just the culmination of all the exciting events of today, I guess. A throbbing headache.” You shrug. 

Dr. Trafalgar takes out a set of keys from his pocket and goes behind Kaya opening one of the cabinets and taking out two pills from one container. Then he goes to the water dispenser and fills a cup. 

“Give me your hand.” You open your palm as he sets the pills there, lightly brushing his long fingers against your skin. “Take them. It will relieve the pressure on your head.” You set the pills in your mouth. “Water.” He hands the cup to you and you drink it. Then he reaches into his pocket and takes out a wrapped onigiri. “Then eat this.” You reply with a meek ‘okay’. “Good girl.”

He smirks and you nearly choke to death on another sip of water. Then you burst out laughing and you notice that the smirk is still adorning his lips. Surprisingly, he laughs along with you and you are forced to admit that the way his deep voice slurred with the words ‘good girl’ made your knees buckle and your body tingle in very unholy places. 

“I'm sorry.” You start, as soon as the laughter dies down. “For overreacting earlier.”

“It's alright. I will blame your reaction on your abnormal state.” He says cheekily and you smirk back at him. 

“By the way, do you carry all your fainting patients in bridal style?”

He scratches the back of his head and looks down, seemingly embarrassed. “Just the cute ones.” The blush spreads from your cheeks to your nose and you're left speechless. Where had the stoic doctor gone? There seemed to be a cheeky flirt in his stead, did he have a twin?

“Thank you, Dr. Trafalgar, for everything.” You decide to finish the conversation there since you're liking it way too much, which can turn very dangerous. 

He nods. “It's Law.” You raise your brow at him. “My name, call me Law.”

“Law. Thanks.” His smirk turns into a slight smile that traps your gaze as you breathe slowly. Single, right? How? 

Kaya’s soft harumph seems to wake you both from your trance and Law excuses himself with work he has to do. “Don't be a stranger.” He adds and then wishes you and your father well before leaving. You sigh as you turn to Kaya, who's watching you with a knowing look and a very silly smile. 

“This was rom/com happening in real life, I swear. Girl, I'm dying here. You need to go on a date with him!” She squeals. “I don't think I've ever heard him laugh!”

“I'm not going on any date, Kaya.” You say, deadpan as you accept the receipts she hands you. “I'm off men at the moment, thank you very much.”

“Yeah we all heard your father. Sorry about your fiancé thing… Though maybe it was better to find out before the wedding actually happened!”

You nod. You couldn't agree more, actually. “I'm going to go now. Dad and I both need rest.”

You and Kaya exchange phone numbers, not wanting to fall out of touch with her, and wave goodbye. The exhaustion is taking its toll on you and you still have to try and convince your father to agree to the surgery. Maybe you'll leave that fight to another day, though. 

As you walk to the truck you unwrap the onigiri and take a small bite. It tastes homemade. Delicious. 

As scrumptious as Dr. Trafalgar Law, actually. 

No, nope. Not gonna happen. You shake your head as you take your seat ready to face the challenge of driving with a stick yet again. And somehow, between driving with a stick and trying to avoid thinking about Dr. Law, the first one seems like an easier challenge.

[croucify]

omg i loved your hamzah fic! every time a hamzah fic shows up on the tl jesus sheds a tear!!

feel like it’s so awkward to request but would love for u to write about dating hamzah on the dl & being a guest on the patreon pod

giving relationship advice to some sad slushys while being all sweet n giddy with each other……

STAWWWPP I LOVE THISSSS I GOT U!!!

✶ sweet nothing — hamzahthefantastic x reader

WARNINGS: tooth-rotting fluff, i used the name junia for the slushy that msgd and reader has a dog named loki

A/N: i'm not subscribed to the patreon and i don't entirely know what goes on there BUT i just know hamzah's alone for that???? even in a fictional universe, hamzah still can't read too BAHAHAHA also sorry if this took so long, i had this in the drafts for a while but just finished it now!

the whole day, you’ve been overthinking about being on your boyfriend’s podcast.

you’ve been on out of character before but martin would also be there with you and hamzah.

so here you were, zoned out while your boyfriend explained everything you're gonna do for this episode.

"okay, so... are you ready?" he finally finished talking, now looking at you and then seeing the state you were in. his eyes soften and he walks toward you.

"what's wrong?" he held your hands in his as he tried getting your attention. you look up and give him a smile.

"just a bit nervous," you force a chuckle then he pulls you in to kiss your forehead. "you think they'll notice we're.. y'know." you tilt your head, placing a hand on his chest before wrapping your arms around his neck.

he shrugs in response, hands now on your hips, caressing the exposed skin from your top. "i don't know honestly but i don't think it'll be a big deal for them cause i love you."

you giggle before pulling him in for a kiss.

"okay let's start then!"

the podcast went on like it usually did, you and hamzah spoke about everything and anything you could think of — from the recent movies you've watched to activities you guys have been doing.

the next part of the podcast's segment was introduced by hamzah, he pulls out his phone and looks at his instagram messages.

"okay so this is the first one, i'll read it first and tell me what you think."

you nod at him to start the he starts to read.

"hi hamzah, i'm f-17 and i finish high school very soon. for the past year, i've realized that i lick—oh sorry it's like my best friend who's m-18 and he's had girls chasing him for a while now and he was entertaining them but ended up not having anything with any of the girls. but recently he's been hinting at liking me and flirting with me playfully i guess i don't know if i should let him know i like him, help me please."

you look at him to see if he was finished then he puts his phone down, now turning to look at you. “okay so you like your best friend that sounds familiar,” hamzah gives a teasing look to you with a smirk on his face.

you roll your eyes playfully, inching closer to him on the sofa until your knees are close to each other.

“i can relate to this, i was clueless too if he was flirting with me or not,” you glance between hamzah and the camera as you speak, holding the mic a bit closer. “but in the end it still worked out and he’s… well my boyfriend now!” you both chuckle and you feel yourself blush, hiding your face with the mic.

hamzah places a hand on your thigh which thankfully wasn’t caught in the frame. “oh my god okay, since you’re sooo happy talking about him, continue the story and give our girl… uh… wait what’s her name—oh there it is! junia!”

you get closer to hamzah, now shoulder to shoulder, and interlocking your hands with each other.

“okay so before i dated my boyfriend, he really wasn’t entirely my bestest best friend but more like a close best friend? he had a special place in my heart–”

“oh really what kinda special place?” he nudges you which you ignore.

“and even before i realized i liked him, it was like i’m always wanting to be around him or talk to him a lot.” your gaze was entirely on him as you said this, completely forgetting about the camera recording and a smile started to grow on hamzah’s face, looking down at his lap to try and hide it.

“i’ve known my boyfriend almost 5 or 6 years before we started dating and it really took me a while to realize i was in love with him.” you were already smiling at him, rubbing circles on the back of his hand.

his head shots up and looks at you, eyes a bit wide.

“wait you were in love already?”

you bite your lip to try and stop yourself from smiling bigger. “yeah, dude, i’ve told you this before!” you let go of his hand, the smile still prominent on your face as you punch his arm playfully.

“okay loser, just continue,”

you roll your eyes and scoff jokingly. “but in all honesty, i know i barely talk and post about my boyfriend but he knows i love him soooo much,” you look up at hamzah who was trying to hide his smile by biting the insides of his cheeks.

you lean closer to him before continuing. “so junia! if you really think you both like each other then go for it! you never know what could happen.” you said and it was like you had hearts as your eyes as you looked at hamzah.

he indistinctively puts an arm over your shoulder as the podcast continues, reading more of the messages and giving the viewers advice.

“oh hamzah! i think this one you can help with,” as you were about to show hamzah the message, your dog, comes out of the room and tries pulling you away from hamzah.

“jesus christ, loki, stop stealing my girlfriend.” he muttered but was still heard on the microphone.

you leave the couch for a while and place your dog in the room.

“okay so here’s the message.” you hand him the phone and he reads it.

“hi hamzah, i don’t know if you’re taken or single cause honestly you’ve been sending us mixed signals at the moment but if you are taken, can you help me flirt. i start college soon and i still don’t know how to talk and flirt with girls—okay i see what you’re trying to say here y/n what the hell.” he glares at you as he finally finishes reading and you stick your tongue out at him which he just smiles at.

"just a tip to everyone who's watching, never ask hamzah how to flirt cause this boy can't flirt to save his life!" you laugh as you said the joke, hamzah putting the phone down and covering your mouth to stop you from saying anything else.

the recording went on for a few more minutes, you ended the episode on a positive note since all you did was tease and make fun of each other.

"i don't think i'll ever be invited back here again after that, so bye you guys!" you blow a kiss to the camera before standing up and stopping the recording.

✶ taglist — @cdbabymp3 @noturbabe22 @dabuggh3 @kingvioleta @tumb1rgir1z LMK IF U WANNA BE ADDEDDD!!!

[arminsumi]

Imagine Gojo taking the students all out in Tokyo for the day and the reader goes and buys everyone ice cream and then hands Gojo one and he’s shocked that one of his students considered him and she’s like “because you’re my favourite teacher” 😭😭😭😭😭 I think he’d low-key be so excited

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡

A/N: (my lactose-intolerant crying noises in the distance) ahh so cute!! i hope i wrote it as you imagined 💗

Wc ≈ 600

Pairing: GOJO Satoru x gn.reader

Summary: during a day out in Tokyo, you decided to thank your favorite teacher in some small way. Of course, he kept those words you said to him close to his heart for years.

Warnings; a little bit of flirting 👀😳, a little cheesy, i'm pretty sure it's gn but if you catch smth not gn lmk!!

A bright sun blazed in the Tokyo sky. You put your hand to the crown of your head to act as a shield from those blinding rays as you disembarked the train.

The station felt lively; people were buzzing around purposefully on their own little missions, just like you and your fellow students of Jujutsu High.

Gojo towered over you four, keeping a watchful eye from the back of your little formation as you headed out the train station. It was always you and Yuji in front, talking so fast it sounded like a crazy chattering noise to passers-by. Nobara interjected when she disagreed with Yuji. Megumi interjected when he disagreed with you — Gojo silently listened to it all and tried not to laugh.

"Hold that thought — who wants ice cream?" you asked, eyeing out a store that was packed between two others.

While you four argued about the best flavors and bought cups of double servings, Gojo paced around the bright stretching street with long legs, like he was observing the world from behind a film of his memories.

"Gojo!" you called out to him. Your voice brought him back to reality, he turned to face you, hands in pockets as they so often are.

"Y/n!" he jokingly replied with reciprocated enthusiasm. "Enjoying yourself today — ?"

"This is for you." you said, handing him a cup of the biggest serving of mochi ice cream he's ever seen in his life.

He seemed a bit too taken aback at first to register that it was for him, even though you clearly stated that it was.

"For me...?" he asked surprisedly.

"Yeah, for you." you assured. "Do you not like ice cream...? I'll eat it with Yuji if you don't want it, he was eyeing out the mochi but it was too expe — it — uhhh anyways!" you stopped, trying to cover up the fact you spent a lot of money on his ice cream.

He chuckled, "Ah, you shouldn't have blown your savings, I'm right here y'know you could have asked for me to pay."

"But you brought us out here today, I wanted to thank you, and um... I anyways wanted to get something for my favorite teacher." you said, throwing in 'favorite' just to test his reaction.

" 'Favorite' huh?" he smiled teasingly, "That's very cute." his response made you lower your head, cheeks feeling warm, heart racing a bit.

He took the cup of ice cream from you. "Thank you, Favorite Student. Though you're really fueling my sweet tooth."

"I'm sorry!" you laughed.

Roaring Tokyo noises filled your ears, you barely heard a snippet of what he said next — but he also said it so quietly, like a mumble, as if he didn't mean for you to catch it.

Something like... " ... 'got a sweet tooth for you, too."

Your friends crashed the atmosphere right then.

Yuji had stolen a bite of Nobara's ice cream, it was a whole scene. Gojo calmly watched it play out while scooping mouthfuls of ice cream into his mouth.

For the walk back at the end of the day, you noticed that Gojo stuck a little closer to you — when crossing train tracks, in crowded places, through the station, all the way up to the mountain that Jujutsu High was sat on top of.

He was so excited and flattered to know that he was your favorite. You could tell, because he teased you about it for the rest of your life.

"I'm Y/n's favorite." he proudly boasted whenever he could. Oh you just know he especially rubbed it in the other teacher's faces.

Years later, he brought it up to you in the middle of a late-night conversation. "But I'm still your favorite, right? Good, good. No one else better take my place."

[peacheeeliz]

019. "sohee!" we all say in unison (wc: 1k)

“Heyyyy Yuyu,” you draw out, leaning back in your chair with a bright smile. You brought your knees up to your chest, wrapping yourself up in a thin blanket. Aside from the shuffling you could hear coming from Yuyu's mic and the soft music you were playing, your apartment was quiet. Sungchan was still out with his friends, filming his next YouTube video, leaving you alone and bored in your shared apartment.

“Heyy,” he responds, a soft laugh leaving his lips. “I saw everyone's posts. I'm guessing you're feeling a little bored?”

“Ah, you can read me so well,” you say, sighing. “I was going to just sit back and watch some drama, but then I remembered I had a lovely friend who I could talk to.”

“Flattered that you thought of me,” he begins, cheeks heating up just slightly. “Disappointed that I was second to dramas.”

“No one can beat Song Kang, sorry,” you tell him, shrugging.

“Or Yunho?” He adds, prepared to blush even more at your response.

“Oh my God, not even Song Kang can beat him,” you gush, giggling. “So, all in all, you probably fall into… third place?”

He has to stop himself from laughing again, “ouch. Third place, really? You wound me, Y/Nie.”

“Don't worry, you're the first in my heart of guys I've actually talked to,” you tease, despite the fact that your heart skipped a beat at the nickname.

The blush spreads to his ears, and he resorts to hiding in his hands. “You wouldn't leave me the moment you met Yunho?” He questions, testing the waters.

“Depends on how quickly he can pass the NDA,” you joke, hearing the man choke on his laugh. “Kidding, kidding. Of course, I wouldn't leave you, or anyone else, for that fine specimen of a man.”

He's able to calm down from his coughing fit, brought back by the sound of your own light laughter. “You should go to one of their performances, then,” he starts. “Maybe he'll see you in the crowd and just fall head over heels for you.”

“Yeah, I wish,” You scoff, shaking your head. “I even flew to LA to see those guys at Coachella, and still, nothing. Thanks for fuelling my delusions, though. You're a real one for that.”

“Wait, you flew all the way over there to see them?” He questions, surprised this is the first he's hearing about all of this. He earns a quiet ‘mmhmm,’ in response, allowing him to continue. “That's crazy that you'd fly all that way just to see them.”

“Well, it was a good excuse to get everyone together and to see all those artists,” you explain, smiling fondly at the memories of you and your three friends traveling to the States. “I did it for their Summer Sonic performance too. That was just before we met, I think? Yeonjun, Sungchan and I flew up and met Giselle for the festival.”

“You must be a super ATINY or something,” he comments, almost hearing the bright smile playing on your lips as you respond.

“Something like that, yeah,” you let out, cheeks reddening at the realization of the topic. “Enough about me and my obsession, please talk about something else.”

He finds your pleading endearing, “it's alright. I think it's cute,” he tells you. “But, if that's what you want, then of course,” he pauses, thinking of another topic. He goes quiet for a bit, before continuing. “You talk to a lot of streamers, right?”

“I mean, kind of, yeah?” You answer, pulling forward to rest your chin in your hand. “I talk to you and the other guys the most, but I still interact with a lot of other streamers. Why?”

“What if one of them were to be, I don't know,” he pauses again, taking in a deep breath. “A celebrity?”

“A celebrity?”

“Yeah, like not streamer celebrity, because that'd technically be all the streamers you talk to,” he continues. “I mean like, idol celebrity.”

You take a moment to respond, really thinking your answer through. “I guess I'd be excited, yeah,” you tell him, letting out an awkward laugh. “I don't know, really, that's such an odd question to ask.”

“You wouldn't be mad at them or anything?” He asks, eyes shaking as his questions continue. “Like if their identity as a streamer was a secret but you found out? Or something like that…”

“Of course not, no,” you answer truthfully. “Their identity was obviously a secret for a reason, and if anything, I should be honored that they'd share their identity with me. It means they trust me enough.”

Yuyu stays silent as he takes your answer in, a small smile playing on his lips. He takes another deep breath, not too sure what to say next.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” You tease, wondering why he would bring all this up in the first place.

Before he can say anything else, Sungchan bursts through your bedroom door. “We’re home!”

You jump right out of your blanket cocoon, and you can hear the shuffle of Yuyu jumping out of his chair through your speakers. “Jesus Christ, Sungchan,” you pant, your hand covering your beating heart. “A little warning next time.”

“Sorry, Y/Nie,” he smiles softly at you. Sohee joins him in the door, sending a bright smile your way. “Sohee's here.”

“Hi Y/N,” the shorter boy says, waving quickly at you.

“Hi Sohee,” you return, your eyes softening at the boy's smile. “How ‘bout you two start dinner? I'll join you guys in a bit, okay?”

The two boys nod and leave you be, but you can still hear their bickering as they make their way to the kitchen. You let out a sigh, turning yourself back around to your computer.

“Sorry about them, Sungchan brought a friend over,” you tell Yuyu, shaking your head. “As much as I love them, they sure have a lot of energy.”

He lets out a light laugh, “you should go and join them. I'm sure the boys here are going to want some dinner soon, as well.”

“Oh, uh, sure yeah,” you say. “I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow then?”

He smiles softly, “Yeah, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Have fun with the boys.”

“You as well,” you tell him, and the call goes dead.

Yunho leans back in his chair, his smile faltering as he stares up at the ceiling. “Fuck.”

synopsis ⤏ you're trying to peacefully build your starter house on the empires server when your neighbor so rudely (accidentally) kills you, starting the biggest war on the server just one day in.

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist is closed!

@davinashifts333 @potatos-on-clouds @s0shroe @staytinyluv @teenyfinds @weasleys-wizard-weasleys @borahae-reads

[cozage]

Aaaaa, Cozage, I'm thrilled with your post about "Panic Attacks"! I fucking love it when people take care of me or show attention to me, so for me it's just wonderful. But at the same time, I like to help people myself. So, if it's not too much trouble, could you write about how the reader calms Sanji, Zoro, Ace and Lo when they have a panic attack? We can say: the opposite of what was written earlier) Have a nice day ❤

Sorry for my English, it's not my native language 😔

Friend!!! This was such a fabulous idea!! Our boys deserve love :)  And I must say, your profile pic?!?! DELIGHTFUL! I’m such a big fan of Chuuya :) he’s one of my favs in BSD <3

Characters: gn reader x Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Law CW: panic attack descriptions, Marineford Spoilers Wordcount:1.4k

Helping Them Through Panic Attacks

Sanji

Sanji is a big scent guy, so certain smells trigger him. Iron and rust are the big ones, but sometimes the salty breeze blows just the right way and reminds him of when he almost starved to death on that rock. Sometimes he just disassociates, sometimes he goes into a full blown panic attack.

Sanji needs to be grounded during panic attacks or dissociative episodes. Talking doesn’t do much for him, he needs to feel people next to him to be brought back to the moment. 

When you're in public and you feel him slipping away, you grab his hand and interlace his fingers with your own. Occasionally he needs a little squeeze of reassurance to bring him back. 

Sometimes you’ll put your hand on his knee or his arm. You try not to do anything surprising, just little gentle touches to remind him where he is, and that you’re close by. 

When he gets a panic attack, you’ve found the best thing to do is get as close to him as possible. Just as a scent triggered him, your scent brings him back to the present. 

Sometimes you have to cup his face in your hands and force his eyes to look at you. You’re one of the few people who can do this when he's in such a panicked state. If other people try, he usually fights back. Even Nami and Robin can’t help him.  

His eyes are so full of fear, but you only show him your adoration and love in return. That’s all you want him to see in those moments.

As he calms down, he likes to rest his head against your chest and listen to your heart beat as you stroke his hair. Most of the time he falls asleep, and you always let him lay there as long as he needs.

Zoro

There’s nothing particular that really sets him off. Sometimes it’s a smell from his past, sometimes it's this weird deja vu that he can’t place. Sometimes he’s just thinking about how to be better and he starts to spiral. There’s not really any specific thing, it’s usually a lot of little things. 

Zoro is a prideful bastard. He doesn’t like people knowing that he’s suffering. So it took you a few episodes to realize what was happening with him.

When you see him starting to panic, you’ll ask him to follow you to a private, quiet room. At first he was skeptical of your methods, but after a few times, he started seeking you out and letting you lead you to a room to help.

You try not to touch him much or talk to him during it, but the two of you have created a pretty good method over a few trials and errors. You place your hand on his chest, and he places his hand on your chest. He feels your heart beat, feels your chest fall and rise, and he focuses on those movements. He shuts off his brain and brings his attention to matching your rhythm.

When he finally matches your heart rate and breathing pattern, he mutters out a quiet “thanks” and returns to whatever he was doing. The first time it hurt your feelings, but Zoro doesn’t like to mull over the fact he needs help. 

After a few hours (usually that night, when you are in bed), you’ll ask him if he’s okay or wants to talk. Most of the time he says he’s fine, but sometimes he’ll talk about what was bothering him. But every time he’ll pull you in closer to him and thank you with a little kiss on the forehead. 

Luffy

Blood had never bothered Luffy before, so he didn’t understand why his ears started to ring whenever he saw it after Marineford. He didn’t understand why holes in things like  trees or concrete structures bothered him so much now. He didn’t understand why he wanted to vomit when he saw an orange hat or a large back tattoo. 

Most of the time, you’re able to, quite literally, snap him out of it. Snapping your fingers in front of his face is usually enough to have him step back from the edge of a panic attack, but you also go a bit further by redirecting him to focus on something else. Food, some cool attraction on an island, or a game you know he likes to play.

If you don’t get him in those first few moments, though, his chest becomes tight and he feels like he can’t get enough air into his lungs. He wants to scream out, but his voice is gone too. So he’s left clutching his chest and gasping for air. He doesn’t have enough energy to find you at this point, so he lays into a ball and curls up into a ball and waits for someone to find him.

When you find him or another crewmember directs you to him, you keep your voice low and calm, as if you were talking to an injured animal. You always start the same way: “Luffy, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

You pull his head into your lap and you’ll run your finger through his hair to brush it out, and then start braiding little pieces. 

You tell him stories of your life in a soft, even voice. If you can’t think of stories, you make them up. You ignore the tears falling from his eyes and the soft sobs that escape his lips. 

Eventually, he falls asleep. But you don’t move. You keep twirling his hair in your fingers, waiting for him to wake up. After a very short nap, he wakes up a new person. He gives you a big kiss and bounds off, his energetic self returning like nothing ever happened.

Law

You didn’t understand why Shachi’s prank made Law so scared. It was just a harmless joke. Shachi had spent hours taping up hundreds of pieces of string all across the common room so people would have to jump over, duck under, and crawl around to get through it all. But when Law had turned the corner and saw you all sitting in the mess of string, you only saw one emotion in his eyes: Fear. 

After that you started to notice it more. Whenever he walked into spider webs unexpectedly, or saw those fun feathery boa necklaces at festivals, or heard the sound of a gunshot, panic set into his eyes. 

“Everything okay?” you’d ask every time, but he’d always give you one quick nod in response. You started taking that as your cue to intervene. 

Law hates making a big deal about things. So when you’re in public, you subtly grab his hand. It’s one of the few times he doesn’t mind PDA, and he grips your hand so tight you have to clench your teeth. But you never complain. 

When you can finally get away from others, you’ll take him somewhere quiet and sit on the ground with him. You keep holding his hand, and use your free hand to trace over his tattooed fingers. 

You always ask him questions about his crew, trying to redirect his brain. “What do you think Bepo is doing right now?” “How did you meet Shachi?” “Remember last week when Penguin and Ikkaku almost caught the kitchen on fire?” He doesn’t usually respond, but you always say what you think the answer is. You’re not sure if it helps, but after a while his grip starts to loosen on your hand.

Law is a silent sufferer. He doesn’t have many indications when his panic attacks start, or when they end. So you sit with him, answering your own questions until he finally takes a deep breath and says “Okay, I’m ready to go back.” He keeps holding your hand though, for as long as he can.

[russellsppttemplates]

Bestie, I adore this new generation of yours! How about mama reacting to Hervè's dating life? Feels like shes the one with a big reaction when her baby boy brings a girls home and is all lovey dovey. Maybe he's just like his papa and she keeps teasing Charles about it.

Note: thank you 🥹 I wasn't expecting it, but I love writing about them!

"I'm sorry, could you point me to the bathroom, please? Hervé said it would be the only door and I'd recognise it but I think I went to the laundry room instead and I don't want you to feel like I'm snooping around the house", Hervé's girlfriend said as you and Charles loaded the dishwasher.

"Oh, it's that one on the left, near the stairs", you walked closer to the door with her, "and don't worry, I think the most shocking thing you'd find is either a mountain of my work files or unfolded clothes", you chuckled, hoping to put her more at ease.

Walking back to the kitchen, Charles noticed your smile, "she's a good girl, very polite and very kind", he noted, "she is very sweet, I understand why Hervé is so enamoured of her", you replied back. Chuckling, Charles couldn't help himself, "so no more finding you crying in the bathroom because your baby boy is no longer a baby and that some 'girl' is taking him away from you", receiving your threatening side eye.

"What does he mean when he says he's bringing his girlfriend? Does he even know what having a girlfriend is?", you reasoned, gesticulating and amusing your husband, "seriously, Charles. Maybe it's just a girl he likes, some good friends. He's still my baby boy and I'm not going to let some girl think she can just swoop him off his feet.", you said seriously to you husband, annoyed at his gleeful expression.

"Amour, you have to take this easy. I think I know who she is, I saw her when I picked him up the other day. He kissed her cheek and blushed all the way home even though I didn't even touch the subject", Charles tried, "Oh, I'm sure she fell for his eyes. They always glint, it was the same way with you. You Leclerc boys always find it in you to make us all swoon", you pouted, cuddling your husband as you wiped your cheeks, the tears now stains.

"Like I said, she's a nice girl", you stated, "and if he's happy, I'm happy too".

During the afternoon, you couldn't help but notice how Hervé behaved. He always offered her something whenever he got up to get something for himself, his arm resting on her thigh or around her shoulders, their giggles at a shared inside joke and how he looked at her. The signature Leclerc glint was inherited from his father and it left your heart feeling cosy at the thought that your boy was in a loving relationship.

"I loved it when you did that for me", you pointed out, focusing your eyes so Charles could also see Hervé's girlfriend resting her head on his shoulder as she spoke to Amélie about something from school, "now you don't love it anymore? Your head goes to my shoulder the minute I sit down next to you, woman!", he teased, kissing the side of your head, "he's learnt from you, and I know for a fact that that girl is being very well treated and cared for because of that", you kissed his jaw, "we Leclercs know how to care for our loves".

Later on the night, Hervé's girlfriend had left already and he was helping you with folding the table back to its usual size, tucking the middle piece of wood so it would be stable, "you really like her, don't you?", you asked, approaching your oldest son, "I do, mama. I know I'm still young, but right now this feels good", he said, "but that doesn't mean that I don't have space for you in my heart", he smirked, "Papa told me about your meltdown", he stretched his arms for a hug, making you hug him back, "you're not losing me, okay?".

"I know, I know, but you made a mama, I obviously can't let you go with anyone", you giggled, "besides, Amélie is all instructed in how she should be treated, I know she won't accept less than she deserves", you chuckled, "and I still have Thomas", you reasoned, "but the day someone comes to get him away from me, your father is going to have to have to pull his A game to distract me from it. I'm talking swoon worthy dates like the one where we both admitted we loved eachother because my heart will be broken".

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 1,060

Picture NOT mine.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW

Reading time (Roughly) - 12 minutes

This one was actually a request, which I don't typically do, but sometimes I simply can't resist!

Tag(s) - @rishdrago

With a tired sigh (Y/n) sat the last of her groceries onto the counter in her kitchen. It was another long day at work, with another grueling case coming to a close. While she loves her job, sometimes it really takes a toll on her. But now at home all she needs to worry about is putting away her groceries, and making a quick dinner. Easy enough. If it wasn't for the sound of a floorboard creaking in the hallway that set her into fight or flight mode.

Spinning on her heel in an instant, she unholstered her pistol and aimed at the doorway to the hallway. "You really messed up you know, but if you know what's good for you, you'll come into the light nice and slow. Otherwise you're gonna leave my house in an ambulance, or a body bag." (Y/n) called out to the would be intruder, bracing herself for a potential firefight. But when the intruder rounded the corner, and came into sight, she nearly dropped her gun. "Frank?" She breathed out in a whisper, her arms falling to her sides. "Frank's dead." He muttered mournfully. "You look pretty fucking alive to me." She sassed as she holstered her pistol, knowing deep down that she could still trust Frank with her life.

The behemoth of a man simply shrugged his shoulders, taking a small first step into the room, as if he was testing the water. "What are you doing here?" She asked turning back to her groceries, while letting him come into the room at his own pace. "I killed Gianni Franco." He stated as he walked up to the other side of the counter, leaving the space between them to prove he meant her no harm. "Trust me Frank, I am well aware of that. You do realize I'm still a detective right? And I'm still friends with Jake you know, so I'm the one he goes to, to vent about you." She glanced his way, trying to get a read of his reaction to her words.

He seemed unbothered, which really didn't surprise her. "I'm sorry." Now that surprised her. Setting the box of noodles down, she turned her full attention to Frank. "Why are you apologizing to me? I'm not the one you should apologize to." She pointed out, but Frank didn't seem bothered, as he casually scratched at the scruff on his face. "Frank why are you here?" She asked now standing across from him at the counter, looking into his eyes which once swirled with so much life. "I don't know... I'm not exactly sure what to do now." He admitted.

"Jake would tell you to turn yourself in." (Y/n) mused with a small smile, her words making him chuckle softly under his breath, a sound she had missed more than she ever realized until now. "That's why I came to you." He admitted, now leaning against the counter. "I knew you wouldn't arrest me on the spot like Jake, and I could just talk to you." Frank admitted with a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Well that's where me and Jake are different, I actually believe you're doing the world good by killing those guys. People like that have to much money and power for us to touch, and we could use a vigilante to even out the odds." She hummed as she grabbed a beer from the fridge, sliding it across the counter to Frank, who took it with a small mutter of thanks. "I knew you'd feel that way." He said before sipping his beer. "Then why didn't you come to me sooner?" She asked as she leaned again the counter.

"Because I don't want you trying to join me." He stated matter-of-factly, making (Y/n) chuckle softly. "That's fair I guess, but what's changed? Why come to me now?" She pried, hoping he would open up to her. "I had a dream about you last night." His words stuck a cord in (Y/n)'s heart, one she didn't realize was still there until now. "A dream?" She played off her nerves like a natural, making her glad she was trained to hide her true emotions, in order to effectively interrogate suspects.

"It started as a nightmare, I was reliving their deaths." She knew he was referring to his family, so she didn't pry for clarification, knowing it only hurt him to talk about them. "But before I could wake up, you appeared from the shadows. You didn't say anything, you just..." He trailed off as he stared at his beer. "You just pulled me into a hug, and held me while I cried for them." (Y/n)'s heart broke at his admittance, she knew he hated showing vulnerably before he lost his family, let alone now that he's The Punisher.

"It made me realize how much I've missed you, and I also realized I can't keep doing this alone, I can't keep being alone." He looked up to her, his eyes ever so glossy. "I know Julie would want me to move on, to come to terms with what happened. But I couldn't do that while the Franco's were still alive and free." He sipped his beer. "But now... Now I need help getting through this, and you're the only one that can help me (Y/n)." Frank wanted to hold her hand as he spoke, but he resisted the urge.

"I'll always be here for you Frank." She assured him, her words pulling a genuine smile from him. "How about I make us some dinner, and we can figure out where to go from there." She offered, smiling when he nodded in agreement. "You should stay here tonight, get a shower and have some normalcy for a change." She added. "Are you trying to say I smell bad?" He asked with a playful smirk.

"Frank dear I've been holding my breath this entire time." (Y/n) joked, making him roll his eyes, despite his smile. "Still a smartass I see." He huffed. "You wouldn't have it any other way." She sassed before pointing to the hallway. "You still remember where the guestroom is." She added, smiling when he nodded and walked off to take a shower while she cooked dinner.

"Well what are you planning on doing now that you've dealt with the Franco family?" (Y/n) asked before she finished off the last bite of her dinner. "There are still people who are not punished by the justice system." Frank stated having finished his dinner long before she had. "Are you planning on doing to them what you did to the Franco's?" She asked. "Only to those who deserve it." Frank clarified, setting (Y/n)'s mind at ease.

"I'm glad you've come to me Frank, but I'm unbelievably exhausted, and I need to get some sleep." She rose from her seat, picking up her plate, and moving to grab his. Frank took her plate, and grabbed his own. "I'll deal with the dishes, go to bed, we can talk more in the morning." He insisted. "Okay thank you." She leaned over and pecked his temple like she used to as a quick thanks. "Oh and I forgot to ask, you didn't break any windows to get in did you?" She asked.

"No don't worry, I just picked the lock on the back door." He shrugged casually. "You still have that spare key I gave you don't you?" She arched a brow at him, and his faint smile gave him away. "Goodnight Frank." She called as she walked away into the hall. "Goodnight (Y/n)." He called back to her. When (Y/n) reached her bedroom, she began shedding off her clothes, in desperate need of a warm shower before going to bed.

As the water washed over her sore muscles, (Y/n)'s mind drifted to Frank. She'd been so torn up when he was declared dead, and mourned for him and his family for many months. They were a big part of her life, they were family to her. Even though deep down (Y/n) had loved Frank in a deeper more heart wrenching way. She knew it wasn't right, she knew that then, and even now she feels guilty for it.

She never acted on it, and never intended on trying to take him as her own. He was happy and he deserved the love he already had with Julie. Now things are different, but it still doesn't feel right, even if it's been over a year since she passed. He clearly still loved her, and (Y/n) wasn't going to make a fool of herself, and potentially push him away and loose him again. Still she couldn't deny the way her heart fluttered at the sight of him again, so much more gruff and rugged.

And knowing that he trusted her enough to come to her made her head spin. By the time she finished her shower, her eyes grew heavy with sleep. Her mind was still stuck on Frank, even as she crawled between the sheets. She wondered idly if he would still be here in the morning, or if he'd ever come back when he did leave. As she began drifting to sleep, she heard the sound of the guestroom door opening and closing. Telling her he was still here, and most likely would still be come morning.

(Y/n)'s sleep was dreamless and peaceful, which was better than she'd had in weeks. While Frank's dreams were chaotic and filled with memories that still hurt him oh so deeply. He dreamt of his children, of his wife, of the look of betrayal and hurt on Jakes face. Then he dreamt of (Y/n), and her never ending acceptance of the choices he's made. He felt at ease while he dreamt of her, his tense muscles relaxing as he dreamt of walking with her beside a lake.

She always had a way of putting him at ease, just by simply being there and listening to him vent whenever he needed it. He knew she meant more to him than just a friend, but he much like her, had never intended on exploring those feelings. But now after everything, despite knowing he's putting her in danger by coming around, Frank knows he needs her. He needs her help more than ever, and he knows deep down that Julie would understand.

When morning came Frank woke up to the smell of breakfast. Something he's missed more than he realized until now. In a bit of a groggy daze Frank wondered into the kitchen, dressed in the sleep clothes he found in the closet in the guestroom. "Mornin' bud." (Y/n) mused as she pushed a fresh cup of coffee his way. "Morning." He muttered as he slipped at the hot brew, slightly surprised she remembered how he likes his coffee.

"You want some breakfast?" She asked as she pulled two plates from the cupboard. "Please." He nodded his head in agreement. "Good because I made plenty." She mused with a smile, as she placed a plate in front of him. "I'm glad you're still here and you didn't slip away in the night." She added sincerely. "I half expected that last night would be the last time I'd ever see you." Her words cut him deeper than he would have expected, but he understood where she was coming from.

"Like I said, I need your help." Frank said earnestly. "Well then, what's the plan?" She asked as she sat beside him with her own plate. "I don't really have a plan, but for now I think we'll just take it one day at a time, and figure it all out." He shrugged. "Wow the Frank Castle doesn't have a plan, that's a first." (Y/n) joked, making him chuckle. "So are you planning on staying here?" She asked a few moments later. "No I don't want to put you at risk of being caught hiding a fugitive." He shook his head.

"I appreciate that." She hummed softly, having worried a bit about that last night. "I think it'll be best if I just come in the evenings when I need... Well a shoulder to lean on I guess." He said, picking at his food a little. "And when you need patched up I imagine." She added, trying to lighten the mood a bit, and Frank agreed with a small chuckle. "Yeah I'm sure I probably will come to you when I need patched up." He smiled at her before going back to eating his breakfast. "I'll be sure to stock up on some supplies." (Y/n) mused more to herself, than to Frank.

(Y/n)'s pager went off with a shrill beeping, signaling that it was time to get to work. Her partner letting her know they already had a new case to work on. "Well that's my queue, I've gotta get going. I'll see you later Frank, don't worry about the dishes, I'll deal with that when I get home." (Y/n) moved back into the kitchen, placing her half empty plate into the sink for now. "Hey (Y/n)." Frank called to her before she could rush off. "Yeah?" She asked, turning her attention to him. "Thank you, for everything." He stood from his seat, and crossed the room, pulling her into a hug. "You're welcome Frank." She hummed as she hugged him back, feeling as though she's already made a difference in his chaotic life.

Buy me a coffee sometime? ☕️

(Click the coffee for my Kofi link, IT'S NOT NECESSARY BTW.)

I honestly couldn't think of a better way of ending this one, but I hope it was satisfactory either way. I'm a little rusty, as I haven't consistently written in ages, so I apologize if it didn't turn out as good as you hoped. (゜-゜)

[ghoste-catte]

I'm on my hands and knees asking you about your favorite gaalee moments (spin offs count bc why wouldn't they)

Anon ... I'm sorry I took a while to answer this for you, but it's because you activated my trap card. But without further ado ... here are my top 10 GaaLee moments.

(My 10th pick and rationale beneath the cut)

The Drop Kick So, I feel like we don't talk about this kick often enough. Because this is actually the first time anyone draws blood on Gaara (we see the scratch on his face once his head pops back up). As much time as was given in canon to Gaara's reaction to Sasuke drawing his blood, I don't really understand why Lee being the first to cut him wasn't as big a deal.

The Primary Lotus This is ... probably the first time Gaara's been touched hand-to-body in years. I've written a few times (and shout out to @egregiousderp for their hand in this headcanon) about how this was probably the first approximation of a hug that Gaara had since Yashamaru. He replaces himself with a sand clone halfway down, but for the initial drop, that's just Lee holding him.

The Rescue I wasn't able to find my favorite screenshot from this moment, which is the one where Gaara's sand is rushing to save Lee and it kind of looks like a heart, but anyway, I just love this pivot. The fact that Gaara uses the very weapon he used to crush Lee's dreams to save him. The way Lee still tries to be an equal partner in this fight despite his injuries. The "I don't hold a grudge!"

The Talk This moment means a lot to me. It's a deep conversation to have, and it's one that happens on two levels that I think aren't fully addressed by the narrative. Of course, on the surface, they're talking about Kimimaro and Orochimaru, but the subtext goes something like: Gaara: Even if people love me, I'm still a monster. All they would need to do is be desperate and lonely enough, and I might seem like a good choice. Lee: The fact that people love you proves you're not a monster! Obviously Gaara gets the final word in this conversation, but I do like to think it sinks in later on and influences their relationship in the future.

The Walk Home I hate that we only get to see this in flashbacks in filler episodes (although we do get to see it twice from two different perspectives!)

But I love this moment because of the way that Gaara chooses to carry Lee: he slings him over his shoulder with one arm. If you go back and watch Gaara and his siblings returning to Suna after his fight with Naruto, that's exactly the way first Kankuro, and then Temari, carry him when he's wounded.

This moment is during that time where Gaara's still learning how to be a person and not a weapon, and the fact that he chooses to carry Lee with such care … it feels relationship-defining.

6. The Eighth Gate That flashback that Gaara has to Gai and Lee's relationship shows that he's really internalized the defining impact Lee had on his life. The genuine care and concern that he looks at Lee with in that moment despite Lee's stubborn insistence that he won't be sad makes my heart ache for the both of them.

7. The Retreat If you've ever read one of my fics that's set during the war and notice that I mention Gaara carrying Lee around on his sand, this is what I'm talking about. I love that Lee sees the sand as an unequivocal source of safety instead of threat at this point (to the point of entrusting it to carry Gai-sensei in his frail state). And I love that this seems to be Gaara's default way of pulling Lee out of danger ... it's at least the second time he's done it, after all:

8. Gaara-kun! This was one of The Moments for me. We as a ship had been speculating so long about the degree of intimacy of Lee and Gaara's relationship. We'd spent, I think, a decade at this point writing fics where Lee called Gaara "Kazekage-sama". Then the Perfect Day for a Wedding arc dropped, and here's Lee calling Gaara "Gaara-kun" just like he does the rest of his friends ... wind was blown into the ship's sails on this day.

9. The Double Date Gaara and Lee go on a double date with Tenten and Kankuro to Ichiraku Ramen. This is canon. 'Nuff said.

And now, for number 10 ... drumroll please ...

10. The ILY I know, I know - those handsigns don't mean the same in JSL as they do in ASL. But my little hard-of-hearing heart can't help but see Lee shooting double "I love you"s at Gaara in this moment. And even if he's not, the starry eyes and blushy cheeks say it all. This is flirting, y'all.

[tlouxx]

Electromagnetism - p. 2

~ ellie williams x reader

——————————————————————————

part one | part three <3

synopsis: you and ellie williams have been long time rivals. you're a physics majors at wellesley college, and you’re competing for the same spot in the prestigious dr. ramsey’s lab as ellie. suddenly neither of you can escape the other as you’re both trying to navigate your final year of college.

content: college!ellie, mean!ellie, modern au, academic rivals to lovers, forced proximity, swearing, banter, eventual smut i swear, tensions rising between ellie and reader

——————————————————————————

Day 22

PHYS 302: Quantum Mechanics 

It’s only a few weeks into the semester, and this class is already demanding way too much of my time. Ellie and I are still sitting next to one another. I think both of us are too proud to move. Our first exam is coming up in less than a week, and to say I'm nervous is an understatement. I can tell Ellie is stressed out about it too. She’s been studying every free second, biting her nails down to a nub, and she wore that same shirt yesterday. Not that I’m keeping track! We are spending a significant amount of time together between our class schedule and work. I guess you begin to notice little details about someone when you’re with them almost everyday. Even if it isn’t by choice. 

…

I can’t think straight. So many variables are swirling around in my thoughts. Ellie. My increasing anxiety. This exam. Being the best at what I do. The professor lecturing is only background noise to the ardent contemplation of the current state of my life. Quite   frankly I’m struggling to understand what a quantum state is or why I should care about it. I’m only brought back to reality when I realize that Dr. L is talking to me. 

“Are you listening?” 

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

“Can anyone else tell me what the variables are that define the quantum state of a system?” 

Ellie quickly speaks up, “Compatible and Incompatible.”

“Correct, Miss Williams.” Dr. L glares at me as she turns back around to the dusty chalkboard. 

…

I want to throw my head down against the desk. I knew that, and now I’ve made myself look like a fool in front of the class. I’m just so distracted by Ellie lately. Ever since she got in my face and said she intended to get the same lab position I’ve been dying to have, I feel frozen in time. I knew she wanted it, but it’s real now that she’s said it out loud. Getting into Dr. Ramsey’s lab could mean I have a fighting chance at grad school or even a future in research. It’s fucking important to me. It occurs to me that maybe Ellie and I could have an alliance. After all the saying goes, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. 

…

In the corner of my eye, I see Ellie chewing on her pencil. She’s studying again while I’m stuck explaining basic calculus to a freshman. It’s 8:07 p.m. Only 23 minutes till the end of my shift, but I tell her anyway that we’re closed for the night. I needed to escape the monotony of derivatives and integrals. 

Ellie’s head lifts up as she hears me escort the girl out the door. It seems I piqued her curiosity, “Why did you tell her we’re closed?” 

“She’s going to fail calculus with or without my help." I slump back in my chair knowing I'm barely conscious from my lack of sleep. "I’m just exhausted today. I don’t want to explain integrals again.” 

A smile appears on Ellie’s face. She looks down at her hands before looking up at me again. I think I almost made her laugh. 

“Trust me. I heard you explain it to her multiple times. I get it.” 

Before I know it, a smile is materializing on my face too. I laugh knowing we have a mutual understanding. To be honest, Ellie kinda intimidates me. Maybe that's why when I’m around her it makes my body feel like it’s on fire. I can hear my heart pumping as she starts to move in closer to me ever so slightly. I know she’s waiting for me to say something else. Maybe I should say something else. I hope she doesn't notice how I choke on my words as I try to speak.

… 

“Um, while we’re uh talking… I was just wondering how you felt about the exam on Friday.” 

Ellie settles into her seat. Confidence seeps out of every pore of her body. I watch as she sets down the pencil she was once chewing on. “It’ll be easy. Maybe not for you, but it will be for me.” 

“Sure… Ellie." I mirror her position. Trying to emulate the confidence she exudes. "I was just going to offer you some study tips in case you needed them.” I remark back at her. 

She leans forward in her chair. Without warning, the air between us seems to thicken. “You could barely keep up today in class. I certainly don’t need any of your help.” 

I lean forward too. “Really? Because I think that you’re studying every second you get because you know I’m better than you."

I stand up, and walk toward Ellie. As I begin to close the space between us, Ellie lifts herself out of her seat. She almost looks like she can't believe I'm saying this "..and you can’t stand the thought of it.”

Ellie looks like she's about to say something. Her mouth opens but closes. She turns around and opens up her bookbag. I watch as she rips a piece of paper out of a notebook. She writes something down.

She turns back around with a paper crumbled in her hand. Ellie inches toward me just like she did on our first night working together. My breath catches in my throat as my mouth goes dry. She pushes the piece of paper into my chest as I stumble backward. 

She swivels on her foot and begins to pack up her things. I grab the paper and look at it. She remarks “It's my number for when you realize you’re the one who needs my help.” 

… 

As I walk out of work, the cold of the night makes goosebumps appear all over my arms. I am still in shock of what just happened. Ellie pushes past me and into the emerging nightfall. Her perfume lingers behind. She smells of mint and eucalyptus. Not wanting to disturb her, I continue walking a few paces behind her.

My head feels clouded. I feel overwhelmed by all of the thoughts spinning around in my head. Did she seriously just do that? 

The moon brightens up the night sky as Ellie exits my view. My apartment building is only a few blocks away. I need to tell someone else about what happened tonight. I pull my phone out of my back pocket to text Dina. 

8:33 P.M 

you will never guess what just happened to me tonight 

D: What??! Spill please!

Well... I asked Ellie about the exam in 302 and she basically said it’d be easy for her, but not me. So i said well maybe i could give you tips so you wouldn’t have to study every second of the day. then she gave me her number?!!! and said to text her when i realize that i am the one that needs help??

D: oh my fucking god. 

isn’t she crazy? 

D: I mean.. I think you both are.

D: but i’m curious if that’s her real number? 

D: send it to me and i’ll let you know. 

you have her number?

D: we might’ve exchanged numbers at some point..

???

D" well…. we kissed once or twice. 

D: but we're not talking anymore 

omg. DINA! why didn’t you tell me!!! 

D: I thought you'd be mad and it was casual!!

D: send me the number!!! 

I threw my phone onto my bed after I sent the number over to Dina. I doubt Ellie would give me her real number. She probably just wanted to fuck with me. Not that it matters if its real or not.. I wouldn’t text her anyway. 

I’m disappointed that Dina didn’t feel like she could tell me about her and Ellie. I’m supposed to be there for her like she has been for me. I let this stupid rivalry get in the way of our friendship. Although when I look back on it, I don’t think they tried to hide it either. Maybe I’ve been too caught up in the fact that she was my nemesis to realize that Ellie and Dina were practically sitting on top of each other at parties or both missing at the same time. How could I have been so naïve to miss this?? My phone vibrates on my comforter. I feel my stomach drop. I’m not sure I even want to know. I open my messages with one eye open.

8:47 P.M. 

yep. that's ellie’s number. 

… 

Day 26

PHYS 302 : Quantum Mechanics 

The sun is shining in through the cracks of my blinds. My eyes are barely open. I feel the fatigue wash over me. The warmth of my bed is all-encompassing, but I know I have to pull the covers aside. My legs feel like lead as I walk into the bathroom to brush my teeth. The darkness under my eyes looks deeper than usual. I pulled an all-nighter studying for the exam today. I’m debating if I have enough time to run to the coffee shop down the street. I’m in desperate need of caffeine. 

I end up walking to get coffee.I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my eyes open without it. The wind is starting to have a chill to it as summer slowly bleeds away. The bell rings as I walk in the door. This is the coffee shop I originally met Dina in. Her hair was shorter then. Our friendship continued to develop the more and more I came here. Then we found out we were working together at the tutoring center, and well the rest is history. 

…

Walking into class with my iced latte in hand, I see Ellie. Her hair looks more disheveled than usual and her clothes wrinkled. Maybe I’m not the only one who pulled an all-nighter. 

I’m not sure if the caffeine is helping me or just making my anxiety worse. Despite my fear that I may not have studied enough, I feel confident. I tell myself today is going to be the day I’ll be setting the curve. Not Ellie. Staying up all night is going to be goddamn worth it when I see that smirk Ellie wears off her face. 

I look over at her as I sit down. She’s still biting her nails, but she doesn’t look at me. 

I shift my body to look at her. She finally looks up from her notes. I whisper to her “Goodluck Ellie.” 

Ellie looks at me and winks. She is wearing her exhaustion on her face, but her self-assurance is ever-present, “Goodluck to you too, sweetheart.” 

I turn back around seething. The heat is rising to my cheeks, but I don’t have time to think further because Dr. L starts handing out our exams. I’m ready for it.

… 

I’ve been anxiously pacing my room. Biting my nails even. I think Ellie is rubbing off on me. I dismiss the thought of becoming more like Ellie. The grades are going to be out tonight in 20 minutes. I continue walking back and forth on the hardwood floors of my room. I need to distract myself for just a little while longer. Instead, I keep brooding over my conversations with Ellie and the moment this exam score will come out. 

Only a few minutes are left until the email will pop up in my inbox. I spend this time running over the exam in my head again. I’m pretty confident I answered everything correctly. Well maybe except for question 25, but I think I’m overthinking it.

My laptop pings, and I know it’s the results. My hands are damp as I lift open the screen. The subject line reads Exam Results. I click on the link 

9:30 P.M. 

Subject : Exam Results 

Congratulations, 

You’ve received the top grade on exam one with a score of 100%. Take pride in this! 

Sincerely, 

Dr. L 

… 

I am buzzing with excitement. I shoot up out of my seat and sigh with relief knowing my hard work was worth it. I subconsciously start thinking of Ellie. How she feels in this moment knowing that I did better than her. I take pleasure in thinking that she’s jealous of me. Thinking of me right now too. I catch sight of Ellie’s note crumpled up on my desk. Before I know it, her number is in my phone, and I’m typing out a text to her. 

9:32 P.M. 

Need my tips now Ellie?

[ravensmadreads]

The Mess of Us

A/N: i have no excuse honestly. I've imprinted on David York for reasons unfathomable to my own brain. This is my attempt at giving him a redemption arc? A softer backstory? My heart and soul? Who knows.

Warnings: uhhhh lots of angst (i mean i tried), almost entirely canon compliant, vague-ish attempt at smut, mild cursing, insane use of italics. (Also: english is not my first language and im faking being a writer but i think this came out okay??? Pls be kind he's my lil babie!!)

Summary: I gave david york my heart and then proceeded to bash it with a sledgehammer - forgive me :p this is the same universe as What Love Means

Taglist: @fuckyeahdindjarin cause i wouldn't be writing without you; @chronically-ghosted thank u to listening to me cry about Dave, and my writing, and myself - i owe u my life; @wannab-urs you absolute maniac i adore u; @timelordfreya u were so kind on the accompanying piece for this i hope you like this too <3

David York

You've known that name for a long time. Stayed with the man that inhabits it even longer. He goes by Dave now. Lives in a suburban home. Has two daughters. An "office job". A respectable man. A good man. A little misguided perhaps. A little bit more jaded than he used to be. More broken than you remember. The light in his eyes all but snuffed out. But a good man.

He was always a good man.

Even when he was no longer yours.

Even when he was no longer David.

****

David York and his sunshine. Neighbours. Best friends. Light of each others lives.

You're two halves of one whole in a way that makes no sense from the outside, but when you tread close enough you can pinpoint the exact strands that join your soul to his. The way his heart is an exact mirror to yours. The way your smile reflects the sun in his eyes and his warmth leaves you feeling more loved than any being in the entire universe. You'd stumbled across him, buried between the pages of a book twice the size of his head, and you thought: Oh God. It's you. It's going to be you. And you decided you'd never let him go.

Until he decided to leave.

He's so excited when he gets the call. When he makes his plans and packs his bags. When he tells you all about the good he's going to do, the hero he's going to become.

"I'll be back soon sunshine. You won't even know I'm gone."

You try to convince him to stay. With everything you've got in you. All your jokes, all your warmth, all your schemes. When that fails you give him your heart. Your tears. Explain that you can't live without him. That he can't expect you to live without him and not fall apart at the seams because he's the thread that holds you together. And when you see the anguish on his face at your confession, you revel a little because you think you've won. He's going to stay for you because of course he is. He's your David. He cups your cheeks in his hands. Lips meet your forehead as his words break your heart:

"I'm sorry sunshine. You know I have to go. I have to do this. You know."

So you wipe off your tears and you smile. Because that's what you're supposed to do for a friend and that's what you do for him. Give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Tell him to be safe.

"Don't get your butt kicked too much David. I need you back in one piece."

And that's the first time David York turns his back on your smile.

****

You wait for him. Like the inexplicable fool you are. Wander aimlessly in the streets around your childhood home like a spirit too tired to haunt anyone but itself. Waiting for him to come back and spark you alive again. Awakening for the few weeks of leave he has before reverting to your state of nothingness the minute the door closes behind him. Flitting like a ghost of yourself, nothing tethering you to this place, but still incapable of moving on without him.

Because he was David York. Your best friend.

Your good man. Your solid rock.

Until he wasn't.

Until he left.

****

You learn to make your way without him. Stumble, fall and scrape your knees more than once, without him by your side clucking and fussing like the mother hen he was. Without him to hold you up and bring you close:

"You’ve got to be careful honey. I can't be losing my sunshine."

You find a purpose and make your stand into the big bad world but all of it feels hollow without him by your side. You learn to stitch people up, bandage their wounds, hold bleeding skin in place and snap broken bones back together again. He laughs when he finds out, equal parts amused and proud.

"Looks like you became the anti-Dave sunshine."

And you smile for him, because of course you do. You don't tell him that everything you're learning, you're learning because of him. Because of the sheer wall of terror that's settled in your spine since the moment he walked away. Because of the David that comes to you in your dreams. The one that crumbles in front of you; broken and damaged and begging for help. The one you're trying so hard to save.

You may be his sunshine, but he was always your sun, and you'll protect him, even if he doesn't want you to.

****

The David that comes to you now is not yours. He's an off brand version of himself. A cheap copy. An imposter that calls himself Dave and smirks in a way that makes your skin crawl. He wears Davids skin but has none of his warmth. The sunshine in his smile is replaced by an ice cold sharpness and you hate that shivers it sends down your spine. His eyes have lost most of the humour they used to have, and when he hugs you he lets go a little too soon. A little too fractured, a little too cold. You hold on; assessing, caring, and wondering. Go to ask but he shakes his head; the look in his eyes silencing your questions before the words can form on your lips. The worry in your heart worsens.

When he walks you home you try again but he anticipates it. Like the predator he is now, he sees your strike coming, and retaliates in the one way he knows will force your silence. He kisses you. Hot and deep. Steals the air from your lungs and the words from your brain. Renders you shocked. When you open your eyes it's your David staring back again and your relieved smile has him pushing into you again. He kisses you until you're breathless. Again, and again, and again, until all your worries are dripping unvoiced at your feet and all your questions have been sucked into the air in his lungs.

You don't fall into each other as much as you attack. The culmination of years of circling each other and it all comes down to this. Mouths open, teeth clashing like you're trying to make your way into each others souls. His hands grab you so desperately, so fervently, that you wonder how he hasn't moulded you into his own chest yet. Your nails scratching at him like you're trying to carve a home in his bones. You’re trying to tear pieces of each other apart. Him, so he may take you with him and you, so you never have to watch him leave again. You devour every inch of him so reverently that the taste of him may remain embedded in your tongue forever. And he carves his way into you, soothing an emptiness that only ever craved him. Pounding in like he's trying to break you open and consume the light within. You cling to each other in the aftermath, breathless, sated and smiling, and you remember placing a kiss on his heart right before you drift off in his embrace.

You should've known, in retrospect, that that was as good as it was ever going to get.

He leaves you in an empty bed. Runs away before the dawn breaks like the consequences of what you both did are too ugly to be faced in the light of day. You turn the apartment upside down looking for one note, one glimpse, one hint of him that's not mottled on your skin and going to be torn away by the cruel hands of time.

You take the dismissal for what it is when you don't find one.

****

He comes back broken. Purple shadows under his eyes, a split lip and a wince that breaks you when you go to hug him. The storm breaks and you lunge. Too strung out to keep going like this any longer and too frazzled by thoughts of "what if it was worse" to think about the consequences of breaking your silence.

Your fists pound against the rock hard of his chest. The place that used to be your solace, your comfort, your home. Where you'd set your head too many times to count and where all your dreams ever went to rest. And they've turned it to stone, moulded him into a machine, changed him into something he's not.

"You're not a fucking hero David. You're not. And I'm asking you to stop trying to be one. I'm asking you to stop this self sacrificial bullshit and come back. Come home. You don't need to be a hero. You just need to be alive. I need you alive dammit! Why can't you see how much I need you?"

Your voice falters and cracks. It's out there now, the pieces of your heart; ugly, tattered and split open in front of him. Waiting for his judgement, for his grace. His face twists into a grimace, and you turn your head before he can see the tears fall. You don't need his apologies. His empty words and false promises of how nothing will ever happen to him, because it will, you know it will. So you hold up a hand before he can begin.

"It's okay. I get it. This is your life now, right? So will you forgive me then, if I can't stand around watching you try to kill yourself and wait for the day you inevitably succeed?"

Something in his eyes breaks at your words, and something in your heart does when he gathers you in his arms. The kiss on your temple feels like a goodbye. To your one solace, your one crutch and the only friend you ever had. And you know this goodbye will haunt you forever.

That's the one time you turn your back on David York.

****

He comes back with an extra sparkle in his eyes. Pleads and begs his way into your good graces and you indulge him because that's what you do for David. His smile has never been brighter. He may call you sunshine but he has always been your shining light, your beacon, the lighthouse you turn to.

But then he turns away. And in a split second, your world tilts on it's axis.

Carol.

Her name is Carol. Perfectly normal. Perfectly sweet. Perfectly perfect. He's got his hand in her hand and you don't understand. You can't. You refuse. Except.... David. He looks so happy. So content. Looks at her with all the devotion you've only ever given him, and all the love you wish he could've given you.

"What do think sunshine? I think she may be the one."

You smile. Because that's what you always do for David. You smile. It's an ugly thing. Fractured. Broken. He notices because of course he does. You've never been able to hide from him, ingrained as he is into your very soul. His smile falters and his eyes fill with sorrow and regret. Apologies for all he could never be and all the regret he has about it.

"You did good York. You'll be great together."

He flinches. He has only ever been David to you. He knows he has broken something irreparable. Opens his mouth to fix it. To swallow something back, say something else instead. Change the words, the letters, the combinations of decisions that led you both to this very moment. Something to keep you whole but the parts he shattered, however unwittingly, are already crumbling to dust in front of him. He closes his mouth. Swallows whatever lingered at the back of his throat. You smile at each other as you walk away. Him with her hand in his. You with the cloud of pain that comes from finally accepting the bitter truth for what it is.

He's not yours. Not anymore. Never will be again.

You never call him David again.

***

You miss him. Of course you do. Running from him was like running from a part of yourself; impossible, regretful and pointless. You were intwined into each other too thoroughly for there to ever be a clean cut through. You couldn't really walk away from him completely no matter what the distance on a map points out.

You know he'll call when he comes back again. He does. Shows up at the threshold of your sanity and the hardest thing you've ever done is ignore his voice when it calls to you. Voicemail, after voicemail, after voicemail. You listen to every single one but you can't call him back. His voice is your kryptonite. You'd walk back the distance if only you could but some tattered remnants of your self esteem hold you back. The last one comes with a letter in the mail. The glossy embellished card reminds you of the reason you walked away. The reason you could never go back. He pleads over static and tinny phone lines:

"Come on sunshine. I need you there. I'm sorry. I'm so s-. Please. I- "

Silence for a few minutes before the line cuts off. Typical of you both. To never say what you want and yet be assured the other knows exactly what you mean. He probably knows too. That you can't bear to see someone else's name next to his. The thought makes you nauseous; angry in a way that scares you, an evil coiling restless being inside of you, threatening to do as he asks. Go over there and scream in his face. The audactiy of this man to say he needs you when all you ever wanted was for him to pick you. Over the chip on his shoulder, the gun in his hand, the name on that card. Choose you. Love you. But you can't do any of that. You can't stand by his side and smile as he walks away with another either.

His only mercy is that he doesn't show up at your doorstep when you both know he could and you wouldn't be able to close the door in his face. Not him. Never him.

You throw the card away without opening it.

He forgives you.

But he never calls again.

***

Months turn to years and David York turns from a stabbing ache into a memory and then a ghost. He haunts you initially, at every turn, but slowly, over the years, the voice in your head softens down. He vanishes into the fog that lingers at the back of your mind and you stop looking over your shoulder for him to come back. You left him so suddenly, so abruptly, that you'd torn off pieces of yourself too. But time heals those wounds and you gradually learn to carry on as half of your bleeding heart slowly scabs and scars over.

You carve out a content little place for yourself, in a tiny corner of the world as you finally learn to love the reflection in your mirror. There's grey in your hair now. Wrinkles in your skin and hands hardened over from a life lived serving others. Saving who you can, when you can. A melody on your lips as you collect the parcels from your mailbox. Cocoa and bitter coffee long since mask the taste of his name on your breath.

There's a knock at your door and you flit to open it. Your smile, a pale imitation of what it used to be, plastered on, as you brace yourself to greet a well meaning neighbour or two. It falls quicker than lightning at the sight that greets you instead.

A man wavers at your doorstep. Unfamiliar in his familiarity. The ghost of a memory of a love never forgotten. Dripping crimson over the smiley face on your welcome mat. A haphazard bandage concealing half his face. One hand clearly broken. Arm bent at an angle too sharp to be natural. Angry streaks of purple and blue dancing around all visible patches of skin and he's trying to be nonchalant about the way he's favouring his right leg but failing miserably. Wheezing a breath that you know speaks of atleast one, if not several, broken ribs. And yet, despite all the damage and destruction and sheer agonizing pain he's no doubt in, the man smiles. Full and bright and warm.

"Hey sunshine."

And you reply.

A gasp. A plea. A promise.

David.

****

[xbruised-peachx]

could i get some soft gromsko hcs 🥺 sorry i keep seeing ones where hes a misogynist (untagged so it triggers me from a past relationship) and i much prefer your interpretation where he's caring but still confident

Aww 🫂🫂🫂 I'm sorry Anon, I'm actually in the same boat as you, my bad relationship ended exactly a year ago so yeah.

Everyone's allowed to have their own interpretation and all that fun stuff but I absolutely agree, I can't see him like that. Talking to my Polish friends about it, it's just not his generation and it's a very tired trope of "misogynistic, loud slavic man" they are not too happy seeing. For me, it's almost a bit of an American trope that is "loud and boisterous=asshole", which I dislike as he has multiple lines IN GAME that shows him as caring and you know... nice (ex. Czasami trzeba się poświęcić dla innych (sometimes you must sacrifice yourself for others), You're not dying yet!, Trzymać się (hold on) the surgeon is coming, I was proud to fight with you!, I am your wingman, etc). Not to mention you know... HE'S A MEDIC or at the very least "extensive medical training" as stated in his bio.

So yeah, I'll happily give you some nice, loud and proudly in love Gromsko headcanons, Anon💚

Tags: fem!reader, pure tooth rotting fluff, alcohol mention for the last point

Gromsko always has his arm around you in public. He wants the world to know how lucky he is to have you. He still has some slight guilt in his head about showing PDA from getting glares from various babcias back home, but he can't help it when he sees you, beautiful eyes looking back at him with such adoration. He has to show it back somehow.

Often, he'll just settle for hand holding (before marriage? Scandalous) as you guys walk around. He'll watch you as you interact with employees, you asking for help as his thumb runs over your knuckles, running along the back of your hand. Even if you get nervous talking to employees, his touch reminds you he's right there if you need him, and that he's more than willing to help if needed.

You getting disrespected sets him off in a whole new way. Instantly, he'll step in front, asserting his height advantage he often has, looking down at them with contempt that they would even dare speak to you like that. "Want to repeat that?" His voice coming out as low and threatening, booming around the room. When they inevitably leave you both alone, his attention goes right back to you, gently cupping your face as you look up to him as he asks if you're okay. You smile and nod, telling him a soft thank you. You can practically see his heart melt as he looks back, eyes softening and a gentle smile on his face, taking your hand and continuing like nothing happened.

Though he learned some cooking from his grandma, he has fond memories of watching Robert Makłowicz with his mom during weekends, making the recipes for dinner. When he found out Makłowicz has a YouTube channel, the two of you went on a deep dive for hours, cuddling on the couch and him translating for you when he started laughing or just said something nice, and thought it'd be nice to share. He also showed a few older clips, particularly this one of him and a dog and now the two of you have the little inside joke going "EHEHEHEHE" at small, cute things.

He often cooks for you, even wanting to take care of you like that as well. He doesn't mind the help but he takes quite a bit of pride in his cooking. He loves when you come up behind and just hug him while he's at the stove. For him, that plus you smiling as you eat a meal from him is the greatest reward.

Every injury is an emergency to him, often taking huge precautions even for little things. The house is never out of band-aids or antibiotic ointment. Even stubbing your toe will have him running out of whatever room he's in, stopping what he's doing to make sure you're okay.

He is the best to have around during the time of the month. He'll make some good iron rich foods, but still get you whatever snacks you want. He may want to take care of you physically but he knows part of health is mental too, and that he can't force something on you when you are craving something else. He makes sure heating pads are ready along with a nice comfortable spot in bed. He isn't overbearing though, as he knows sometimes you just need space. He knows that when you need him, you'll let him know. Often you have fallen asleep, head in his lap with a heated stuffed animal hugged to your chest. He'll carry you to the much more comfortable bed with ease, watching you at peace with a smile on his own face as he'd go back, cleaning up any snack wrappers in the living room, turning off any electric heating pads that might have been left on. He may join you for a nap eventually, but he'll leave you at peace for now.

Being used to waking up for the military, he wakes up before you, and he really doesn't mind. The warm glow of the sun rising as your lips are parted, gently breathing. His arm around you, he can feel the gentle rise and fall, your heart beat calm against him. He could look at you like this for hours, going back in forth in his head questioning how he got so lucky but also not wanting to question it, instead to just enjoy this quiet morning. Birds chirping, he wants to get up and make some coffee for you but he doesn't want to leave you in this moment... not now or ever.

He loves animals... all of them. Often, if he sees a random animal in the street, he'll call out to it instinctively in Polish, often leaving a poor hedgehog stunned in the streets, unsure what to do about this giant heading towards them. He loves going to the shelter with you, seeing big dogs go from barking to wagging their tail, wanting to get out to play, and going to cat rooms to sit for a while, playing with all the cats, young and old. Old cats flock to him like no other and he always imitates their crispy meows. Seeing him hold a kitten that easy fits in his hands, curling up into a ball as he holds it against his broad chest, gently petting its head with two of his fingers... it warms your soul.

He is a very affectionate drunk. He'll be stumbling down the streets, goofy grin on his face as he hugged on you for balance. If any even breathes in your direction, positive or negative, he'll be calling out to them, "HEJ! To moja dziewczyna... GO!" (Hey, that's my girlfriend) You often end up apologizing to whoever it is, his slurred speech being the answer for why. When you get home he'll often just keep repeating how beautiful you are while snuggled in your chest for once. Looking up at you, you see that look of disbelief in his eyes, but quickly returning to just bliss as he remembers you belong to each other. Snoring like a bear buried deep, he knows absolute comfort knowing you'll be there for each other for the inevitable hangover the next morning.

[moni-logues]

The Fifth Date

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: friends/idiots-to-lovers

Summary: Yoongi finally realises his feelings for you... But you're on a fifth date with someone else.

Word count:

Content: literally no warnings necessary for this one except Yoongi being a moron

A/N: Happy birthday to my future husband, Min Yoongi! As I said in a post a couple of days ago, this one has had a real edit; it's fundamentally the same, but just (I hope) better.

‘A date. A date. It’s just a date. Why do I care so much? I don’t care. I don’t. It’s fine. She can do what she wants. Obviously. I'm not her keeper. She's a grown woman—an adult. I don't control her. I'm not trying to. It's fine. It's just a date…

'Well, it’s a fifth date. Five is quite a lot- it’s not; it’s not really a lot but it’s different from a first date. A fifth date definitely mean-‘

“YOONGI!”

Yoongi jumps, startled back to the present. He’s supposed to be helping Jungkook finish his song, but he can’t focus.

“Ah, sorry, sorry, ok,” he replies and turns his attention to the screen, adjusting levels and playing the track again.

Music is where he always goes to relax, switch off, zone out, feel better. Music is where Yoongi is in control; he knows what he’s doing; he can feel the music; he can hear it before it even exists and he knows how to create it. He’s comfortable with music; the studio is his home, his retreat. It’s his happy place. This is what he does. This is who he is. He comes to the studio and the world outside its four walls disappears, doesn’t matter. Time passes unacknowledged, one hour, ten, who knows? Who cares? Music production is a flow state that Yoongi slips into whenever he can. Music is simple to him, pure.

But you’re on a fifth date.

Jungkook sighs, seeing Yoongi’s stare go blank once more.

“Yoongi, are you ok? You really can’t focus today.”

“I’m sorry, JK, I will do better. It’s fine. I can focus. Let's do it.”

“Are you sure?”

Yoongi nods.

“Because I know someone is on a date right now-“

“So what? What does that have to do with anything?” Yoongi asks, suddenly defensive.

Jungkook almost pulls a muscle refraining from rolling his eyes. Everyone knows Yoongi has feelings for you; everyone knows you have feelings for him. You’re honest about it, at least. Yoongi refuses to be. They’re not even sure if he’s being honest with himself, despite how obvious it is to everyone else. The two of you together is a no-brainer.

“And they’ve got no brains!” is Jin’s constant rejoinder.

It’s a very good point.

They know he’s just trying to protect himself. He’s been hurt before. But haven’t we all? And you can’t stop yourself being hurt from hiding away. Loneliness is hurt, too; pining is hurt, too. But Yoongi will not be told.

*

You look at your date across the table and smile. You’re having a nice time. The food is good. The company is enjoyable. You’re trying hard to focus on him: what’s likable about him, what makes him a good match for you—the very fact that he asked you out was a start; you have interests in common; he’s not unattractive; but he’s not Yoongi. Your brain knows that you have to let go of the Yoongi thing, but your heart hasn’t got the message yet.

Practice makes perfect, you remind yourself. You laugh at your date’s joke and take a sip of your drink. If he asks for a sixth date? Yeah, you’ll go. If he asks you back to his tonight? Yeah, you’ll go. Because Yoongi’s not asking. And you’ve given up waiting.

Not waiting as such. You aren’t waiting—you never were waiting. Because you know it won’t happen, have always known. He just doesn’t see you like that. You’re friends. Just friends. You did once think, maybe, that he might be showing interest in you, the way he softened and warmed up to you, the way he became almost doting, indulgent, always, always there when you needed. Then you realised that that was just him, really him, truly him, not the cool, shy exterior he had first presented to you. That made it all the harder, truth be told. You had liked him anyway: his shy little laugh, shoulders shaking, eyes closed; his knowledge on any and every random topic you could imagine; his thick dark hair and feline eyes; his obnoxious drinking habits that you nevertheless found endearing. He slipped into your heart and set up camp. It’s just what he is like. He dotes on his loved ones: you and all the others. You realised he didn’t have romantic feelings for you, but familial ones.

It isn’t exactly what you want, being his friend, being family to him, but you’ll take it. Rather that than nothing. Rather that than daring to tread where you might not be wanted—weren’t wanted—and being rebuffed, rejected. So, you date. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right? Worth a shot! It isn’t exactly working but a girl’s gotta eat.

*

The studio session does not go well. It ends prematurely. Jungkook has to pretend to have had enough, to be too tired, to need to rest, anything to put an end to the torturously slow progress he and Yoongi are making. Yoongi is distracted and needs to let loose, he says. He sends a message to the group chat asking them to have drinks so they meet at the dorms and get some bottles out. Yoongi relaxes and forgets about you for a little while, distracted but this time it’s from you, not by you. He forgets, briefly, that you’re on a fifth date with someone else, smiling, laughing, drinking, not with him. He has fun. He gets a little bit tipsy, drinks more than he planned.

Then Hoseok turns in for the night and Yoongi checks the time. It’s late. He’d have expected you to have sent him a message by now, telling him how the date went. You always message. Always. Even when it goes well. Even when it goes badly. But it’s late and he hasn’t heard from you. A thought washes over him like cold water poured down his back: maybe you’re still on the date. It’s not like it’s not allowed; it’s not like you haven’t slept with other people in the time you’ve known each other. He knows you have. He’s fine with that. Of course, he’s fine with it; you’re just friends. But you are still on a fifth date and his stomach flips over unhappily.

He stares hard at his phone, willing it to do something, although he’s not entirely sure what.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that a watched phone never boils?” Namjoon asks him.

Yoongi slowly puts down his phone and pushes it to one side.

“Waiting for a message from anyone in particular?”

“No,” he answers simply.

They know he’s lying.

“Have you met the guy she’s on a date with? He works at the company, right?” Jimin asks, his eyes all innocent and shining.

Yoongi nods.

“Yeah, he does. I haven’t met him.”

He doesn’t really ever want to. He’s not interested in who you’re dating; it doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy. If you say he’s good enough, he’s good enough; Yoongi doesn’t need to vet him, interrogate him. He trusts your judgement. He doesn’t have to meet him. Ever. Well, he’ll probably have to at some point, but he doesn’t want to. Why would he? He’s just some guy.

The other members look at each other. They know this is your fifth date and there is a real possibility of more dates; they feel they have to do something to make Yoongi wake up and realise what he’s missing. They just aren’t sure how. They’ve tried everything they can think of. Yoongi is just too hard-headed. They’ve tried with you, too, egging you on, promising success, trying bribes at one point. You are hard-headed, too.

They talk amongst themselves about this guy – whom none of them know, but some have seen around the building; they talk about you and how they might see less of you now if you’re going to have a boyfriend. They wonder aloud if your boyfriend will have a problem with you hanging out with them, seven men, by yourself. A cold fist grips Yoongi’s heart at this – not seeing you? He hadn’t considered that but it’s true; the more time you spend with this guy, the less you can spend with him. He hadn’t realised before that this could actually mean losing you. How many married women does he know who hang out with seven men on a regular basis? (How many married women he knows at his age full stop—a solid zero—does not enter into his equation). Possessed by a forceful energy, he stands up and the others all look at him.

“I,” he starts, not really sure what he’s going to say, “have to go,” he says simply and leaves the dorms.

The others look at each other with trepidation and then shrug; what will be will be and they’ll be there to pick up whatever pieces there are later.

Yoongi leaves the building and starts walking. It’s far too far to walk to your apartment from the dorm, but he needs to burn off a little of his sudden energy. His mind is whirring, an overpowered carousel, an endlessly streaming slideshow of his relationship with you. He shakes his head and frowns deeply, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He knows he’s coming to you but he doesn’t know what he’s going to say. He sees you, in his mind, on your date, laughing at some man, this company guy, holding hands, kissing goodnight. He shudders.  

He can’t tell you to stop dating other people, not if he’s not going to ask you to date him. But is he going to ask you? It seems insane. Impossible. The thought of asking you out is impossible. But the thought of dating you seems somehow… less impossible. Doable. Real. The thought of it being him walking you home. The thought of it being him who kisses you goodnight.

He laughs to himself. What is going on? What has been going on? He can’t have been this blind. Everyone else can’t have been right. He’s excited and terrified in equal measure. He wonders what you feel. If everyone was right that he has feelings, are they right about you, too? If it has taken him this long to realise, maybe you haven’t realised either. He might be walking into disaster. But he can’t stop. He’ll crash that fifth date if he has to.

After a couple of miles, he orders a car to take him the rest of the way. He stands for a moment outside your building; his limbs feel fizzy, his head feels light, and his stomach feels wobbly, but he pushes the intercom button anyway.

“Yoongi!” your voice comes through the speaker, quiet and grainy.

“Can I come up? I won’t be long.”

The buzzer sounds in reply and Yoongi opens the door and runs up the stairs. He has to assume this is a good sign. You’re in your apartment. You’re letting him come up. Your date is not—probably—not there, too. He breathes heavily outside your door, catching his breath, waiting for his heart to slow down a little.

It doesn’t. Not even when his breathing is even and he’s stopped sweating. So, he knocks anyway. When you open the door, you’re already ready for bed: make-up off, hair down, pyjamas on. He has to assume that this is a really good sign.

“What’s up?” you ask as you welcome him in. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, thank you,” he answers, sitting down. “I just needed to talk to you about something. How was your date?”

You sit next to him on the sofa and consider your answer.

“It was good! He’s a nice guy. I think we’re going to go out again next week, maybe.”

You don’t want to overegg the pudding but you’re not sure how to play it, how much to give away, how honest to be. Keep it vague, keep it simple. He will already know it can’t have gone that well if you’re here, all undone, ready for bed.

Yoongi nods, looking serious. Then he stands. Then he asks you to stand, too. Perplexed, you rise and stand in front of him, your expression questioning.

“I’ve been stupid,” he states. “I’ve been really stupid. I have to apologise to you for that. I don’t want to complicate things for you but you have to know this. I like you. I don’t want you to date that other man. I want you to date me.”

“Date you?” you ask, incredulous.

“Yes. That is what I want and I’ve wanted it for a long time; I just didn’t realise it until now. If you want to date that guy, that’s ok, but if you want to date me, well, I want that, too.”

He sounds so sure, so confident, but he doesn’t feel it. His hands clench and unclench at his sides; his ribs are taking a beating from his heart; sweat pricks in his scalp. He can’t say any more. His mouth has dried up. He can only stand and wait for your response. Whatever it may be.

You look surprised then confused, your brows pulling together over your eyes, your lip sucked into your mouth, chewed on.

“I guess—well, no, I know: I also want to date you.”

That’s definitely got to be a good sign. He nods sharply.

“Ok. Good. Fine. Good. That’s all I wanted to say.” A pause. “Sorry for barging in here. It’s late. I’ll let you go to bed.”

He turns to leave and you’re laughing, more incredulous now than before.

“Where the fuck are you going?” you cry, stepping forward and grabbing his arm, turning him around so he’s facing you again. “What are you doing?”

He looks like a deer caught in headlights, a little shocked, a little dazed, like he can’t believe where he is, what’s just happened. And he can’t. Doesn’t seem real. None of it does.

“Oh, I, uh,” he stutters, not sure himself what he was doing, what he’s going to do now.

“You can’t just come in here and tell me you want to date me and then leave! Are you even going to ask me out?”

He blinks and you hear the clock tick like the cogs in his brain turning.

“Do you want me to ask you out?”

“Oh my god!”

You turn, bewildered, really feeling that extra glass of wine you had at dinner. You rub your hands over your face and turn back to him with a smile.

“Yoongi?”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing on Friday?”

“Studio, probably.”

You roll your eyes and take a deep breath.

“No, what are you doing on Friday?”

You stare at him insistently, willing him to see the breadcrumbs you’re laying out for him, to take a fucking hint for once in his life.

“I’- oh. Oh. Uh, do you want to go out with me on Friday?”

“I mean, I was going to ask you out, but yes, yes I do!”

“Oh… Good.”

“Stop saying that!”

“I don’t know what else to say!”

You feel a little drunk, feel a tiny bit like maybe you’ve fallen asleep on the sofa and are just dreaming this. Because it’s come out of nowhere and Yoongi’s standing in your living room asking you out on a date and it’s everything you’ve wanted for all this time and it can’t just suddenly be happening. Just like that. So easy.

He’s blushing and so embarrassed, squirming a little as he stands in front of you, feeling so silly that he showed up so unprepared. Unprepared for any of this. He would have sworn up and down just a few hours ago that you were his friend and nothing more, but now he’s giddy, a little dizzy, feels like he’s actually drunk even though he sobered up on the walk. He feels like he’s dreaming, passed out on the dorm sofa, imagining all of this.

You both feel weird, exposed. You’re crossing that line, however inelegantly, and neither of you is sure how to do it. You laugh, awkwardly, nervous now in front of him. He laughs, too, rubbing a hand at the back of his head self-consciously, looking down at the floor.

“You can stay,” you offer, quietly, a little timid, not quite meeting his eye.

“Stay?”

“Here, tonight. If you want.”

“Do you want?”

“You think I’d have offered if I didn’t?”

You take whatever Dutch courage you have left and close the gap between you, your feet neatly together between his, your fingers toying with the edge of his jumper. You look up at him through your lashes and he’s looking down at you, blinking hard, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides again. You tip your head up to him, willing him to take a step, to take his turn, to not make you have to do all the work.

It's a little much, Yoongi thinks, as he looks down at you. It feels fast, sudden, and he’s so hot, flushing all over as your little fingers pull gently at the hem of his jumper. For a second, he considers backing out, shuffling back just a little—and then he catches himself. It’s not sudden—because he’s known you for months now, he’s felt this for months even if he hid it from himself; it’s not fast, it’s slow. It’s been slow—he’s been slow. Everyone has been telling him, everyone has been saying it and he hadn’t realised, hadn’t got the message, but now he has, so why wait? Why pause? You’re right there in front of him, looking up at him with those enormous eyes, a little shy, a little spark of mischief there.

He unclenches his fists and places his hands on your waist as he dips his head and presses his mouth to yours.