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mead-iocre · 24 days ago

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La Castanyada | Alexia Putellas x Reader

synopsis: alexia invites you to meet her extended family

warnings: it's a longgggg one

wc: 7.2k words

The late autumn sunlight filters through the mildly tinted windows, casting shadows that danced across your face. You welcome it, deciding to savour whatever little warmth is left before the arrival of the cold in the upcoming months. The only sound coming from inside the car was the mild buzz of the engine, and the low hum of Alexia’s favourite radio station reporting the latest sports news. The car smells of herbarium berries thanks to the overpriced car perfume you purchased a few months ago. Cool notes of fresh-picked blackcurrant berries mingle with flowery rose accents prick your nose. You mentally remind yourself to buy another car diffuser, but maybe not one tagged with a fancy label like this one.

You gaze out the window to a serene scene of fallen leaves and autumnal charm. You had never been so far away from the city before. The journey was worth it though, full of new sights and sounds; with patchwork of amber and rust-coloured trees, charming villages, and vineyards against backdrops of evergreen pines. As you drive further, you past towns surrounded by vibrant landscape of rolling hills and dense forest. Living in the city for so long made you realise just how you missed being around the natural wonders of the world. The car stops at a red light and you glance over at the rusted cobbled pavement, watching as a gust of wind sends a pile of leaves to swirl and dance in the air.

The realisation that you were nearing your destination made your palms sweat and your heart race. Alexia was taking you to meet the rest of her clan. Today, you will officially be meeting her extended family. Alexia’s grandparents had invited everyone to stay at their estate, a home that Alexia had told you countless of stories about. Stories of mornings that start with churros on the breakfast table; Sunday lunches on a long oak table, beautifully set with fine china and crystal glasses; and playing hide and seek with her cousins around the family vineyard until the sun set.

A warm palm clasping your knee startles you out of your daydreams. When you turn your head, warm hazel eyes meet yours. “Cómo te sientes? You okay, amor?”

You hum, nodding your head, placing your hand above hers. She slows down as the car approaches traffic, using the opportunity to focus her attention back to you. You watch the way her eyes study your face, probably looking for any sign that you might be holding back from saying what you were really feeling. She entwines your fingers together before tugging it towards her lips to place a kiss on the back of your hand.

“Are you…ansioso?-- nervous?” She asks, focusing her attention back on the road now that the stoplight has turned green. She keeps one hand on the steering wheel, her other hand entwined with your own.

“Maybe a little bit” You admit. You had met Alexia’s mother and her younger sister, Alba before and that went well. In fact, it went so well it turned into regular visits from her mother and weekly brunches with her sister. But this time it was different, not only was Alexia's mother and sister not due to arrive until tomorrow, you were going to be meeting her grandparents. She spoke so highly about them all the time. Her voice would soften and her eyes would glimmer every time she recalled stories about her childhood growing up in her grandparent’s home. If they didn’t like you, you fear Alexia might just leave you.

“Meeting your whole family, it’s a lot. What if they don't like me?”

Alexia shot you an incredulous look, as if the mere thought was unfathomable. “Impossible.” She proclaimed, so confident, so assured. “They’re going to love you. Besides, mi abuela has already seen your picture a hundred times. She thinks you're ‘muy guapa’.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Yeah, but a picture is different from meeting in person.”

She lifted your entwined hands, giving the back of your hand another kiss. “Mi amor, pictures do not do you justice. They’re not expecting perfection. Just be yourself. They are not scary, I promise.”

That helped, slightly. You sighed, looking out the window as the olive trees and vineyards passed by. “I just hope my Spanish doesn’t embarrass me…”

“Your Spanish is great!” Alexia exclaimed, squeezing your hand. Along with weekly Spanish online classes with a tutor, you encouraged Alexia to speak to you in spanish regularly so you can pick up the language quicker. “But if you want to speak English, that is fine too. I will help you. No te preocupes”

You wrap your other hand around her arm, picking at the soft cashmere coat she was wearing with your fingers. You had bought her this coat, convinced she would look really good in it as soon as you saw it in the store. You were right.

"What if I mess it up?"

“You cannot ‘mess it up’” The last bit was said accompanied by finger quotations. She briefly detangles her fingers from yours to make finger quotes in the air, before promptly entwining them again. Alexia’s voice was soft, but full of conviction. Her hazel eyes were earnest, almost pleading with you to trust her word. “Just be yourself. You will be fine.”

You wanted to believe her. You really did. But the nerves didn’t go away. Instead, they settled deeper, twisting into a tight ball in your stomach. You had never met your partner’s family before, not like this. This wasn’t just dinner with their parents. This was Alexia’s whole extended family, in a different country, in a language that you weren't fluent in.

Looking out of the window, you tried to focus on anything but your growing anxiety. You caught a glimpse of an older couple seated outside a cafe, a group of children chasing a ball down the narrow street and a man leaning against his bicycle, deep in conversation with a shopkeeper outside of a flower store. The scene was peaceful, unhurried, like time itself had slowed down for everyone else but you.

“I’m just… worried,” You finally admitted, your voice small and slightly shaky. You hated feeling this way, not being in control, not knowing what could happen next. “I don’t want to let you down.”

All of a sudden, Alexia swerved and pulled the car to a stop by a street lined with rows of charming little shops. She turned fully to face you, her eyes soft and understanding. “Amor, look at me.”

Rather reluctantly, you met her gaze.

“You could never let me down. Eres mi todo and my family knows, ” Alexia's words were steady, filled with the kind of reassurance that you desperately needed. “And if anyone has a problem with that, they will have to fight me.”

You chuckled weakly, the tension in her chest loosening just a little. “I hope you’re right.”

“I am.” She smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “Te quiero mucho. And that’s all that matters.”

Her eyes scan your face, probably sensing your lingering doubts. She cups your face, her palm warm against your cheek. She brings your face closer to hers. “Eres perfecta,”

Pretty hazel eyes meet yours, all love and affection. She leans in to kiss you, her lips soft and plump against yours. Pulling away slightly, just a breath of distance between the two of you, before she murmurs. Her voice low and hushed , “You know what that means, Si?”

You hum, your eyes fluttering closed, still partly consumed by her kiss. Of course you knew what that phrase means, it was one of the first Spanish phrases she ever translated for you. You tilt your head towards her, leaning into her space, greedy for another kiss.

“Mmhmm. Perfect.” She mumbles in english, her tone is teasing, enunciating the word with perfect pronunciation. Although it is slightly jumbled by your lips being pressed against hers again. She smiles against your lips, no doubt feeling your desperation. Your yearning.

Her hand tilts your face to the side, fingers pressingly lightly against your neck, urging you to succumb to her lead completely. Like all she wants you to do is just close your eyes, kiss her back, and she will handle the rest.

Eventually she starts to pull away, but not before she leaves a teasing bite to your bottom lip, a cocky smile perched on her lips at the sight of the dazed look on your face. You open your eyes half heartedly, your gaze immediately zeroing in on her plump bottom lip still wet from your kiss. “Later” She promises.

And Alexia always keeps her promises.

She tucks your hair behind your ear and squeezes your knee as she leans back into her seat. Both of her hands back on the wheel. “Vale. We’ve still have some driving to do.”

✦ . 　⁺ �� . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The countryside was a picturesque scene of rolling hills, vineyards that span miles and miles, and tall, slender cypress trees. The leaves had begun their slow descent, carpeting the roads and pavements in hues of amber, crimson, and goldenrod, creating a soft crunch beneath the tires. The scent of earth and woodsmoke wafts in through the slightly cracked window. You noticed it earlier, but it’s a lot stronger now. As the car navigates the winding roads, you catch glimpses of traditional stone houses, with their windows framed with charming flower pots that still hold the last few blooms of summer.

As you wound deeper into the heart of Catalonia, the landscape became more secluded. The occasional farmhouse dotted the hillsides, their red-tiled roofs peeking through the autumn foliage, and their silhouettes softened by the setting sun.

And then, as the car rounded the final bend, the mediaeval town of Peratallada came into view. Peratallada with its ancient stone walls and narrow cobblestone streets. The town was full of charm, its streets flanked by ivy-clad beige and gold stone, the weathered facades only adding to it's history.

Eventually, Alexia slowed the car down, allowing you to take in the new surroundings. You take out your phone, snapping a few pictures of the pretty sights. The cobblestone streets were narrow, twisting through archways and past old stone fountains. Vines clung to the walls, leaves now tinged with the colours of autumn, while small terracotta pots with trailing ivy and late-blooming flowers adorned the windowsills of homeowners. Every corner and alley seemed to hold a secret passage—a hidden courtyard, a glimpse of a garden, and even a cosy café where a few villagers sat outside, sipping wine and chatting quietly.

The smell of roasting chestnuts filled the air, carried by the breeze from vendors setting up stalls in the main square for the evening’s festivities. The town was quiet, peaceful, but you can see preparations are being made for the upcoming La Castanyada festival.

As you leave the narrow streets behind, the road opens up, leading you deeper into the countryside. The car continues to meander through the occasional quaint shop-fronts and cobblestone paths until the road begins to slope upward. You sit straighter in your seat.

The soft crunch of gravel under the tires announced your approach to Alexia's family estate, hidden behind tall stone walls and ancient oaks. Gradually, the estate came into view, as the road curved around a hillside, revealing tall gates surrounding the property. You had never seen anything like it.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise as the large dark, wooden gates swung open automatically just as the car pulled up. The car drives through and you spot what looks to be some sort of wooden sign announcing the estate's name, beautifully carved in dark wood. It was like Disneyland.

You knew Alexia came from a well off family, but you were definitely not expecting a family-that-has-a-fancy-sign-outside-of-their-gated-estate kind of rich.

Alexia turns to you, biting her bottom lip. Her eyes were bright with excitement, she was practically buzzing in her seat. This was the most excited and awake you have seen her in the last hour of the drive.

She points to your window. “This is my family's vineyard”

You lean forward and sure enough there was a vineyard. The estate was perched high on a hill, offering a panormaic view of the property. The vineyard itself looked like something out of a painting, the grapevines, heavy with the last of the season’s fruit, stood in neat rows, aligned against the backdrop of rolling hills. Beyond the vineyards, the estate was flanked by tall trees offering privacy from the rest of the world.

“Wow, this place is beautiful,” You were in complete awe at the scenery.

Alexia's cheeks flushed with warmth. She quickly removed her green cap, brushing out her hair. “My grandparents have lived here for years."

The car continued to drive on. Soon enough an impressive structure came into view. The house--mansion(?) itself was breathtaking— a lavish stone manor with its ivy-covered walls, grand arched windows, and terracotta roofs. Even though Alexia had prepared you for her grandparents’ “big house”, nothing compared to the real thing.

“We’re here,” Alexia said softly, pulling the car to a stop at the front of the estate. She shut off the engine and unbuckled her seatbelt. She then turned to you and did the same, unbuckling your seatbelt for you out of habit.

As you both stepped out of the car, the cool autumn air enveloped you completely, crisp but not biting. You just stared for a moment, your breath catching as you took it all in. The courtyard was paved with smooth stones, lined with tall, iron lanterns leading towards the grand entrance of the house. The doors, massive and intricately carved, stood closed. Almost intimidatingly.

“This is your grandparents' place?” You asked, still in awe. Who did you know had multiple 2ft tall cast stone vases lined up by the entrance of their homes. No one-- at least until now.

“It’s home.” She took your hand, guiding you toward the entrance.

You felt a flutter of nerves in your belly. You had been excited about the trip initially, but now that they were here, the reality of it all weighed on her.

Would they like you? Would they understand your broken Spanish?

Before Alexia could reach for the doorbell, one of the doors opened.

Alexia’s grandmother, Abuela Carmen, was the first to greet you at the door, her face lighting up with a warm smile. Her silver hair was pulled into a loose bun, and her dark eyes twinkled as she wrapped her granddaughter in a tight embrace before turning to you.

“And you must be Alexia's girl,” she said in English, her accent thick yet soft. She took your hands in hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. You introduced yourself and she repeated your name back to you with such fondness, as if she had known you your whole life. “Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you. Gracias" You replied, your nerves easing as Alexia's grandmother pulled you in for a hug. Alexia was about to say something about the luggage in the trunk, but her grandmother just flapped her hands away dismissively, instead ushering you both further inside her home.

The house was as grand inside as it was outside. The foyer welcomed you inside, its walls lined with decor and tall paintings. Towards the end of the foyer you could see an expansive living room that you swear is bigger than your entire apartment. A large fireplace dominated the room, its flames reflecting against dark wood beams. Terracotta tiles stretched across the floor, complemented nicely by the intricately patterned rugs.

The walls were painted in soft, creamy tones, adorned with vibrant mosaic tiles. Large arched windows lined the walls, with the wooden shutters thrown open to let in the last rays of the setting sun, bathing the room in a golden glow. The windows framed picturesque views of the vineyard and rolling hills beyond. You were still in awe.

Exposed wooden beams crisscrossed the high ceilings, while wrought-iron chandeliers hung gracefully, the warm light casting shadows across the room. Plush sofas and armchairs upholstered in rich fabrics, blend with the dark wooden tables and cabinets. The sofas were lightly dented and the rugs weren't perfectly brushed out. You could tell that each piece in this room was meticulously chosen with the purpose of making this house a home.

"Show our guest around the sala, Alexia. Then come to the kitchen for some merienda after" Abuela Carmela practically orders her granddaughter. With you, she just sends you a quick wink before nudging the both of you away as she saunters over to where you assume the kitchen is. It’s hard to tell with a house as big as this.

Alexia leads you through the main hall, where a large stone fireplace crackled with a burning fire. Above the mantel, an intricately carved wooden mantelpiece held an array of family photos, a reflection of the generations that had lived and loved in this house.

“We gather in this house every year,” Alexia said, her voice filled with affection. "It's my favourite time of year. It's the only time I get to see all of my family in one place".

Alexia waves you over, closer. You stand on your tiptoes as she points out herself and her sister in the photos, whispering stories of her childhood for every single one. The smile that lights up her face as she tells her stories is infectious, like she was experiencing every happy memory all over again. Stories of bike rides around the town, muddy boots around the vineyard, and summers spent sunbathing at Poseidon Calella beach.

She leads you into the next room, your hand in hers the entire time. The dining room was an expansive room with a long, polished wooden table perfectly set for the occasion.

"Wow. This is the fanciest table setting I have ever seen..." The table was adorned with what looked like hand-painted ceramic plates and bowls, surrounded by intricate silver cutlery and crystal glasses that sparkled in the candlelight. The centrepiece was a beautiful arrangement of autumn leaves, chestnuts, and candles.

"Oh no, this is not where we will be eating," Alexia tugs your hand, leading you around the fancy dinner table and towards a set of French glass doors framed by lush cerulean curtains. She points outside.

"There is where we will be eating"

An expansive terrace has been transformed into a breathtaking outdoor dining space. Under the pergola draped with twinkling lights, a long wooden table stood as the focal point of the evening’s festivities. From where you were standing, you could see hints of colourful glassware, candles, ornate table centrepieces, and neatly folded napkins.

You turn to face Alexia, playfully mouthing a "holy shit" -- one of the first English phrases she picked up quickly-- to which she just rolls her eyes at you. But you can see the corner of her mouth tugging upwards.

"Vale. Let's go to the kitchen. My abuela is probably waiting"

As Alexia led you into the kitchen, you marvelled at the sights before you. The kitchen was any chef’s dream. The floor was laid with terracotta tiles which were noticeably worn smooth by generations of footsteps. You could tell the family spent a lot of time inside this part of their home.

Stone countertops, big windows, wooden cabinets, and a large farmhouse sink. Stainless steel pots and pans hung from a wrought-iron rack above the island, and the glass cabinets were filled with an array of colourful ceramics. Alexia’s stories of how her grandma would cook her infamous Gazpacho whenever she was sick filled your head at the sight of a large, stone fireplace by the corner.

There was a smaller table, placed near the fireplace, looking to be made from reclaimed barn wood. It was surrounded by mismatched chairs, their cushions upholstered in colourful, patterned fabrics. The table was set with a simpler table setting compared to the one in the dining room and the terrace. You could imagine the family using this smaller table whenever they are rushing in the morning and only need to stop for a quick breakfast before school or work.

Alexia's grandmother was busy at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled divine. She greeted you both with a warm smile. “Ah, there you are! Just in time to help,” she said, clapping her hands.

Alexia's grandfather, Abuelo Miguel, appeared carrying a tray piled high with steaming chestnuts. His face, weathered with age, split into a grin as he saw Alexia. “Ah, mi nieta,” he said, his deep voice warm with affection. He set the tray down before giving Alexia a big hug. The kind of hug only a beloved grandfather can give.

Then, turning to you, he gave you a welcoming nod and extended his hand. “And you must be the woman we have all heard so much about.”

Taking his welcome, you smiled back– albeit a bit awkwardly, but the wrinkles around his eyes as he smiled at you put your nerves at ease.

"Vale. Keep doing what you were doing" He gestured playfully to the controlled mess around the kitchen, making you all laugh. There were dishes and casseroles everywhere, stuff cooking on the stove and oven. No counter space was left unused.

“Chestnuts are always the centrepiece,” Alexia whispered to you, pointing about the growing pile on the kitchen island. “Traditions say they were eaten back in the day to keep warm during the colder months. These days, we eat them to remember the souls of the departed.”

You watched as Alexia's grandparents moved with an easy grace, tending to the chestnuts roasting in the open hearth. Abuela Carmen was masterful, her wrinkled hands moving deftly as she placed a fresh batch of chestnuts into the iron skillet over the flames. She gave them a gentle toss, and the warm, nutty scent wafted through the air. You swear your stomach grumbled at the smells alone.

You and Alexia got stuck in, plating dishes and gathering the cutlery. Abuela Carmen called you over to watch and observe her roast the chestnuts and Abuelo Miguel showed you how to make authentic Sangria. As the final preparations were completed, you and Alexia helped carry the food out to the terrace. After a few back and fourths, you make your last trip to the terrace carrying a pitcher of the Sangria that you had made. You place it in the corner of the table, stepping back to admire the setting.

The table was made from rich, dark wood. It was long enough to accommodate the entire extended family, with matching sturdy chairs situated on each side. The natural grain of the wood is complemented by a table runner that runs down its length—a delicate fabric adorned with intricate patterns in shades of gold, dark blue, and deep red.

"Barcelona colours. You see?" Alexia points out with a wink as she passes you to put down a platter of cured meats. You roll your eyes at her. You can take the woman out of Barcelona, but you can’t take Barcelona out of the woman.

Each place setting thoughtfully arranged, with ceramic plates, polished silver cutlery, and neatly folded deep burgundy linen napkins held together with rustic twine and a sprig of fresh rosemary. Above each plate were crystal glasses ready to be filled with the finest wines-- to which Alexia pointed out to you that there were separate glasses for red and white wine. You did not know that beforehand.

An arrangement of autumn leaves in hues of gold, orange, and crimson was interspersed with clusters of chestnuts, pomegranates, and small gourds. Among the foliage, candles in glass holders flickered softly, their flames bouncing off of wine glasses. Along the table were small bowls filled with olives, marinated in garlic and herbs, and plates of freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven. Ceramic bowls filled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar sat within easy reach.

Personalised name cards, handwritten on small pieces of parchment, were placed at each setting. You round the table, eyeing each name card, and pausing when you see one addressed to you. Yours was next to Alexia's, handwritten in beautiful calligraphy just like the rest of the family.

Soon your ears pick up on the muted sound of gravel crunching under tires. One by one, cars pulled up to the grand estate, and the echoes of greetings pierced through the silence. You take a deep breath, looking down at your outfit to make sure you didn't have any balsamic stains on your cardigan or any suspicious crumbs on your trousers.

The first to arrive were Alexia's uncle Javier and his wife, Elena, along with their three children. Javier, a tall man with a warm smile, embraced you with a hug. Maria, a graceful woman with kind eyes, kissed you on both cheeks, her greeting rolling off her tongue easily. She had a nice voice, you thought to yourself, but that could just be the nerves forcing you to focus on anything but your growing anxiety.

The children, two boys and a girl, darted past their parents, racing each other to check out the table and all the colourful decorations.

“Alexia, it’s been too long!” Javier exclaimed, shrugging off his blazer and draping it over his chair. He turns to you. “And I'm glad you finally brought your girl home. Welcome to the family, hija.”

Next came Tia Isabel, Elena’s great-aunt, a sprightly woman in her seventies. She arrived with her husband, Roberto, and their son, Carlos. Isabel, wearing a vibrant yellow shawl greeted everyone with enthusiastic hugs and kisses-- including you. In fact, you swear she gave you an extra tight squeeze when she came to hug you.

Soon after a car pulled up with Alexia's cousins, Maritza and Sofia. Their partners trail behind them with their bags and bottles of wine. Maritza comes strutting onto the terrace, her high-heel shoes click clacking, announcing her arrival. She greets you, complimenting your cardigan, and practically steals you away from Alexia to chat. She leads you to the table, sneakily swapping the name card to your left with her own so you can sit together and talk more.

Meanwhile Sofia, who Alexia mentioned is an artist, carried a canvas bag filled with small gifts she had made for the family. After yelling her greetings to everyone, she goes straight to the table and starts picking out wrapped objects from her bag, placing them by the corresponding name card. Everyone immediately goes to open their presents, revealing handmade pottery. There were mugs, bowls, and small plates, each glazed in vibrant colours and decorated with unique patterns and designs. She takes out the last one and walks over to you, holding it out. "This one's for you. Alexia said you love the colour pink and anything with cherries on it"

You stand up, thanking her and unwrap your present. You start to apologise for not having brought anything for her in exchange, but she just waves your apologies away, urging you to focus on unwrapping your gift instead. Underneath the wrapping paper revealed a ceramic white mug with red cherries all over, sweet and dainty. Perfect for your daily cups of coffee. "Wow. This is beautiful. Thank you, Sofia"

Sofia smiles proudly, accepting the shouts of praise directed at her from the rest of the family as well. She bows exaggeratedly before she threatens everyone that they must use their gifts or else.

As the last few family members continued to arrive, the atmosphere grew even more festive. From your view from above, the courtyard was abuzz with activity—children playing tag around the lanterns, and adults catching up, their hands already occupied with their beverage of choice or nibbling on some tapas.

Soon enough Abuela Carmen called everyone to come to the table. It was time to eat. Everyone gathered around, their faces lit by the warm, golden light. The terrace offered a breathtaking view of the vineyard below, the rows of vines now bathed in the silvery light of the moon.

“Come, come, sit,” Abuela Carmen urged, gesturing for you to take your seat. You take your place, feeling Alexia slide into her seat right next to you. She takes her napkin, unfolds it, and lays it across her lap. You follow suit. “I hope this is enough food for your first La Castanyada.”

Alexia chuckles from beside you. She gestures at the feast before you. "It's more than enough, Abuela. Te lo juro"

"Muy bien. Good. I want your first La Castanyada to be perfect" Aubela Carmen looks down at you fondly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear when a light breeze blows by. She gives your shoulder one last squeeze before she walks over to her own place by the head of the table.

You had heard of the Catalan tradition before. Alexia had not only explained it to you countless times before, but you also took the liberty in doing some research before coming. According to your research, La Castanyada is a celebration held in late autumn to honour the dead. The tradition is rooted in the whole family coming together to enjoy seasonal treats like roasted chestnuts and tiny almond cakes.

Between courses, music filled the air. Abuelo Miguel strummed his guitar, leading the family in traditional Catalan songs. Alexia's cousins joined in with their singing, encouraging everyone else to clap and sing. Even the children took turns dancing and performing.

The table was a feast for the gods. At the center of the table, a large platter showcased roasted vegetables fresh from the estate’s garden. Beside it sat a carved wooden bowl overflowing with mixed greens—arugula, radicchio, and delicate frisée—tossed lightly in a vinaigrette of lemon, olive oil, and herbs.

A large paella pan sat ready at one end of the table, brimming with golden saffron-infused rice. It was piled on with prawns, mussels, and pieces of chicken, with slices of chorizo nestled among the rice. Fresh sprigs of parsley were scattered over the top, and lemon wedges lined the edges. Next to the paella, a warm loaf of crusty artisan bread sat on a wooden board. Nearby was a selection of spreads and dips; including a rich, roasted red pepper romesco, and creamy whipped feta with herbs.

Right in front of your plate sat a dish of patatas bravas. The fried potato cubes were smothered in a spicy tomato sauce and drizzled with a swirl of garlicky aioli. Plates of jamón ibérico were carefully fanned out beside it, the thin, ruby-red slices almost translucent. The seafood continued with grilled octopus, charred lightly at the edges and served on a bed of roasted chickpeas and fennel, dressed in a lemon and caper sauce.

Abuela Carmela lifted her glass, her eyes sparkling with affection as she looked around at her family. “To La Castanyada,” she began, her voice warm and steady. “To our loved ones, present and remembered, and to the blessings of family.”

Everyone echoed her toast, glasses clinking, blending with the crackle of the fire nearby. With that, the meal began. You picked up one of the roasted chestnuts, still warm from the cazuela. You took a tentative bite, and immediately, a soft sweetness spread over your tongue. The texture was velvety, almost creamy. You did not know chestnuts could taste like this.

Alexia watched you chew, your face screwed up in thought. When you turned to her with a big smile on your face, she subconsciously released the breath she was holding. While you were busy scooping another mouthful of the chestnuts, Alexia secretly raised a thumbs up at her abuela. Abuela Carmen replied back with a quick wink and a satisfied smile.

When the large pan of paella, Alexia used the serving spoon to scoop a generous serving of the rice, with prawns and chorizo, and placed it on your plate for you. She then served herself before passing it down the table.

You pile your fork with the paella, bringing the fork to your mouth. Immediately, the layers of flavour bloomed in your mouth: the smoky paprika from the chorizo, the sweetness of the prawn, and the aromatic saffron that tinted the rice. You chew some more before tucking into your plate again. Gathering another spoonful of paella into your mouth, you were practically dancing in your sea. In the middle of chewing, you turn to Alexia with wide eyes.

She thumbs away the little bit of sauce on the corner of your lip, patiently waiting for you to finish chewing.

You swallow, licking your lips afterwards. “Delicioso”

“Si?” Alexia asks, with raised eyebrows, as if she can’t see the pure elation painted all over your face.

You hum in reply, nodding– practically humming a melody as you eat another forkful. “Si!”

Alexia laughs at you, endearingly, unable to resist the urge to love on you. She wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to her, and starts raining kisses on your cheek. You blush profusely at her blatant display of affection in front of her family but everyone just continuous on eating, but you can see a few secret smiles on their faces.

“Oye, Carlos! pass the paella, por favor” Alexia calls out. When the plate reaches her, she scoops a serving directly onto your plate.

“We cook this every year,” She says, leaning close to your ear. “It’s part of the tradition. You’ll have to learn the recipe if you want to stick around.”

You look at her and smile, your heart swelling at the thought of being part of these yearly rituals. Glancing around the table, you tried to take in the sight of the rest of Alexia's family and their happy faces. Everyone sat around this large table, passing around dishes and stories. The evening air was filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the low crackle of the fire. Not a bad deal at all.

From the distance, just across the vineyard, you could see a faint warm glow illuminating, perhaps from where other houses were participating in the celebrations as well.

The evening slipped into a comfortable rhythm. The conversation flowed, mostly in Spanish with Alexia translating when needed, but even when you didn’t understand every word, you never felt left out. Everyone made sure to try and speak English, especially when they were referring to you. Your heart warmed at their efforts.

Javier, ever the storyteller, was in the middle of recounting a story from his travels. His hands moved expressively as he spoke, his voice booming with laughter. You listened intently as you followed his tale.

All of a sudden a hand gently tapped yours that was resting on top of the table.

“So,” Tia Isabel, who was sitting in front of you, asked. She eagerly leaned forward in her seat, her plate pushed aside and she was nursing her glass of red wine. “Tell us, how did you and Alexia meet?”

You smiled, glancing over at the woman with the pretty hazel eyes sitting right next to you. “We met through the club,” You explained. “I work for the club doing all the social media stuff."

Maritza pipes up from beside you. "Oh. Are you the one--uhh how do you say-- filming the videos?"

You turn to her and nod. Maritza looked a lot like Alexia's sister, Alba. If you did not know any better, you would've assumed Alexia had been hiding a third sister from you. "Si. I make and create content for the team's social media."

You catch from your peripheral as your girlfriend suddenly seems very interested in your conversation. She stretches an arm, resting it on the back of your chair.

"So the blindfolded pizza challenge was your idea?"

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat up. That video was one of your favourite pieces of content you had ever created, and it was an instant hit with the fans. On the other hand, it was Alexia’s least favourite.

Sofia clasps her hands together, practically bouncing in her chair. "I love that video!"

Alexia interjects. "I still can't believe she made me eat olives. I hate olives"

Chuckling at the visible shudder she let out, you smile when you recall the shock on everyone's faces when Alexia blindly picked out the one paper that had olives on it. The rules of the game state that the players must take turns blindly pulling out little slips of paper with a food item on it. They must then put the food item onto their pizza, and bake it. To make it fun, aside from the typical pizza toppings, food options include gummy worms, mustard, anchovies and– unfortunately for Alexia– olives.

So Alexia had no choice but to begrudgingly place a couple olives on her pizza. You will never get over the sight of the Barcelona captain with tears welling in her eyes at the end of the video. Afterwards, she gave you the silent treatment the entire evening.

As the conversation continued to flow, Abuela Carmen stood up, her chair scraping against the tiled floor, catching everyone’s attention. “I hope everyone has room for postres-- dessert,?” she announced with a smile. She motioned for Elena and Sofia, who brought out trays of panellets and sweet potatoes.

Everyone ooooh'd and ahhh'd' as the trays were placed on the table. You watched in awe as the beautifully arranged treats were revealed. Panellets, the traditional marzipan sweets, were decorated with pine nuts, coconut, and almonds. Their sweet aroma mingled with the scent of the roasted sweet potatoes.

Abuela Carmen handed you a small dessert plate. “You must try these, preciosa. Quickly. Before the rest of the family eats them all.”

You graciously took a piece of the panellet, its delicate sweetness melting in your mouth. “Esto es delicioso, Abuela Carmen!”

Abuela Carmen beamed, patting your hand. The crinkles by her eyes deepened until her eyes smiled like crescent moons. “I’m glad you like them”

She turns to the table, quickly grabbing the last bit of the panellets, much to the apparent surprise of the entire family. She places the last piece on your plate. “This is for you.”

The table is stunned for a moment, but they all nod in agreement. That is until Maritza breaks the silence by calling for another toast– this time, to you. You wave your hand around, covering your face in embarrassment but it only fuels everyone to continue teasing you out of affection. Alexia is beaming by your side. It’s sort of a known thing in their culture that people usually offer the last piece of any cake or desert to the people they care about. Her Abuela offering the last piece to you is already a sign of fondness.

Despite your embarrassment over the attention, you gladly accept the last piece of desert and enjoyed every last bite.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Eventually, the family gathered their drinks and began to move from the terrace to the courtyard. The space was softly illuminated by string lights and a large stone fireplace. Vintage wrought-iron lanterns hung at intervals along the pergola’s length. Arranged in clusters around the fireplace, there were plush, low-slung lounge chairs and sofas, upholstered in fabrics of earthy tones.

The warmth from the fire pit mingled with the cool autumn breeze. You were almost tempted to excuse yourself to fetch your coat, so when Alexia silently handed you a big wool throw for you to share, you practically let out a big sigh in relief. "no puedo imaginar la vida sin ti, mi corazon. i love you so much"

Your lover just laughs, throwing her head back freely, before bending down to meet your lips for a kiss. You feel her smiling against your lips as she whispers "stop picking up your Spanish from telenovelas, amor"

She kisses you once more before asking you to scoot over.

She took her seat beside you, your shoulders touching, legs cocooned under the throw blanket. There was something magical about this moment right now. Something comforting about the way the stars seemed to glow brighter, the way the fire crackled in the distance, and the warmth of Alexia's hand in yours.

“I am really happy you are here,” she leaned in to whisper, pressing a soft kiss to your temple afterwards.

You smiled, your heart swelling with a deep sense of contentment and belly full of the hearty meal. “Me too, baby.”

As everyone continued to sip their beverage of choice, Abuelo Miguel began to tell stories—tales from his childhood, stories of La Castanyada celebrations that stretched back generations. His voice carried the weight of the years. You could see the flicker of memories in his eyes as he recounted how, when he was a young boy, they would light bonfires in the town square, gathering with chestnuts and special wine specially reserved for the occasion.

Alexia nudge you with her shoulder, her eyes doing that thing where she studies your face intently, silently trying to read your mind. When she likes what she sees, she smiles. “It’s beautiful, si?”

You gaze right back at her, appreciating the way the glow of the fire highlights her face; the sharpness of her jawline, the twinkle in her eyes, and the slight wetness on her plump bottom lip. “Very beautiful,” you whispered back to her.

As the evening wore on, more chestnuts were passed around. Everyone ate them with sticky fingers and washed them down with small glasses of sweet moscatel wine. Talks shifted to quieter conversations as the night settled, the stars brighter against the dark sky.

At one point, Abuela Carmen stood and began to sing a melodic song, her voice warm, the notes hanging in the cool air like a lullaby. Abuelo Miguel joined in, his deep baritone harmonising with hers, creating a moment so tender that you almost felt as if you were intruding on something too intimate.

Alexia shifted closer to you, tugging the blanket higher so it covers you from the neck down. The air was slightly chilly now. She throws an arm around your shoulder, tucking you to her side, letting you rest against her. “I grew up with these songs,” she said softly against your ear. “Every year, we sing them.”

You laid your her head on her shoulder, taking a good look around the courtyard, taking in the scene—the glow of the lanterns, the warmth of the fire, the faces of the people who had welcomed you so easily, and the sound of Alexia's steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I think I could get used to this,” You whispered to the woman beside you, surprising even yourself with the hint of emotion in your voice.

Alexia smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes. She cupped your chin, tilting it up slightly, and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “Qué bien, because you are part of it from now on.”

fall is such a romantic season.

i hope your autumn has started off as beautifully as mine. think of me whenever you see leaves dancing in the wind x

・❥・- kisses, butter

read more of the Butter's Meadio-cre Mayhem (the Spooky Season collection) here

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas fanfic #woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas imagine #barca femeni #fc barca femeni #my fics

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ragingbookdragon · 2 months ago

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“I never knew the LT was good with bairns,” Soap says, watching, as he sits along the wall, their superior entertain a few local children.

She doesn’t bother to look up from knife she’s been sharpening for the past few minutes. “Simon’s always been good with kids.”

“How do you ken?” he asks, shifting his gaze to her; her eyes shine in the glow of the setting sun in the rundown gas station they’ve been waiting for exfil at.

“He had a nephew,” she replies simply. “His name was Joseph.”

“Had?”

“Had.”

Soap’s brows furrow and he looks back at Simon who is now kneeling down and hushing one of the children who’d apparently fallen and skinned a knee. He watches as the man gently helps them sit up, wipes away the dirt, and puts a bandaid on their knee; his hands move to the child’s face where he gently wipes away the tears falling down their dusty cheeks.

“How old was the bairn?” he asks quietly.

“If I recall correctly…Joey was only four.”

Soap’s expression falls and he looks back at her. “No…”

“You recall in Mexico when he said he had a cold heart, yeah?” he nods. “Simon’s lost too much to let it be warm again,” she murmurs, eyes finally lifting to the LT, a fond look in her gaze as the man gently brushes the child’s hair as the young boy reaches up to touch the skull mask, not a hint of fear in the boy’s expression. “But even the cold can’t survive the warmth of memories.”

By the time exfil comes, they practically have to pull the man away from the children whilst he unlatches their arms from around his legs, laughter and tears in the air as the kids run down the street waving at the back of the jeep driving off into the distance.

She busies herself with letting her loved ones know she’s alive and well, occasionally glancing at Soap next to her whose leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since they got in the jeep.

After a moment, Soap pulls his phone out and nudges Ghost, waiting until the man looks down at the screen.

“Wanna see my sister and brother’s bairns?” he asks quietly, a hopeful smile on his face.

Ghost blinks, expression stern, and Soap expects a no, but then the LT’s head turns and looks down, eyes softening at the sight of a pair of triplet boys dressed in Sunday finery, baby newsboy caps on their heads, fire on their heads as they grin toothily at the camera.

“Tha’s ma sister’s bairns. Angus, Alastair, and Arran. Their heids are licks of fire, rambunctious lot they are. Only four the lot of them but they—”

She quietly observes the scene unfolding beside her, gaze soft as she sees the reflection of the same gentle love in Ghost’s eyes, even more when he plays a video of the three boys tackling Soap into the hills of the Scottish highlands, squeals of laughter and love escaping the boys as Soap hugs them tightly and pretends to gnaw on their arms and necks.

“They’d love you,” Soap murmurs. “If ya wanna come for Christmas, mam would love to…” he trails off.

“We’ll be there,” she says before Ghost can reply and the man looks over at her; she cocks a brow. “What we don’t have plans for Christmas?”

Ghost is unusually quiet for a moment then he nods. “We’ll be there.”

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trashmouth-richie · 7 months ago

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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 :: part 1

꧁ eddie x female reader :: part 2 here

a multi chapter mini series— based on thoroughfare by ethel cain

listen here (apple music) + here (spotify)

summary: jumping into his truck at seventeen, eddie takes a journey in hopes to find love. years pass with no such luck, along the way he stumbles across you, a timid drifter who reluctantly agrees to join him, heading west. you’ve never trusted men, but something in those kind, deep colored coffee eyes stirs up a feeling you’ve never felt before. strangers to lovers trope, one bed trope.

triggers: 18+ smut

author’s note: no upside down, eddie was raised by his mom and dad in florida and they were in love.

The wet shell of a sunflower seed stuck to the tip of your finger. Slicked with salted spit and the tart bite of cherry chapstick, you hung your hand out of the passenger window, waiting for the western wind to blow the husk from your finger.

His thumb rubs against the rough edges of the flint wheel of his zippo, the sweet tang of tobacco invading your nose as the flame sparks leaving a burning cherry on the white paper. A slight chap to his lips from too much sun yesterday at the motel pool in BullHead City, you had supposed. Still, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. The only time you could was when his eyes caught yours, daring you to look away.

The way he stared at you with a smirk twisted on his mouth took every bit of breath from your lungs. Holding your gaze in a cozy embrace with the deep warmth of his russet colored eyes until you finally forced yours to break away and look out the window instead. Bottom lip bit between your lips as a growing heat travels over the apples of your cheeks.

If you would have looked back at him you’d have noticed the way he licked his lips as he watched you sigh as if you hadn’t been breathing. Snapping another sunflower seed between your teeth before putting them on the crest of your lips to put them out of the window— he had your movements memorized. Each more tantalizing than the next.

Neither of you were able to deny the tension between you lately, letting it build and fester, aching for relief in the form of pleasure.

The last eight weeks had started to wear heavy on your chest, and you found yourself daydreaming about the beginning of this adventure, like a record on an endless spin to your favorite song.

Not a single radio station would come in wherever the hell it was in Texas he was right now. With every crank of the tuning dial, only the agonizing noise of static strained through the speakers to keep him company as he drove along this highway that never seemed to end.

He cursed himself for not buying a map at the gas station he filled the truck up at this morning. His gut instinct usually guided him on which roads to take, and today was no different. Only today felt like he was pulled by something else, something deeper within himself.

The sky was a mix of cyan and cotton clouds, already hot for May, he was just about to give up on the radio before he popped over a hill and an oldies station came in clear as could be. And something else came into view, plenty far away yet.

Hot wind whipped at your shirt, providing next to nothing for comfort as you trudged along the broken asphalt. You now understood why this place was called the Lone Star State, because you haven’t seen a damn soul in miles. For today, you didn’t mind the loneliness. Leaving home, years ago, you didn’t have a destination in mind, only the knowledge that you needed to get the hell out.

Whatever highway you were on looked to be deserted. As if the state built a multi-laned monstrosity elsewhere and gave up on this slow, lonely stretch, leaving it to the elements. Prairie grass poked through the splintered road, tumbleweeds swayed in the ditches, collecting and tangling as one like a tawny bundle of barbed wire.

Looking behind you, a vehicle showed in the distance like a wavy mirage in the desert. You had half a thought to stick your thumb out and catch a ride to the nearest bus station, but when the vehicle got closer your conscience took over, and anxiety thumped in your chest.

Please don’t stop, please please.

The engine hummed to a lower gear, and you automatically put a hand on the pistol at your waistband. Moving further over to the side of the road where whoever was driving could see that you weren’t interested in their good deed, you kept your head down and kept walking.

Tires slowed and you went into a small panic, wishing you had something sharp to hold between your fingers, but the barren highway offered no such vice.

You heard faint music as the vehicle got closer, crawling almost to a stop as you quickened your steps hoping they would just keep going and leave you be.

“Pretty hot out today… need a lift?”

The voice felt like velvet on your skin, a warmth you’d never known. Endearingly charming, no southern twang like someone from Texas would have. You ignored him, letting the crunch of gravel on your worn boots answer instead.

You had never been given the luxury to trust someone, and you’d be damned if you were gonna start today with some stranger on the side of the road. Heart rate kicking up, you all but bolted to avoid him.

“Baby don’t run, I’ll take you anywhere,” his drawl wrapped around you like a vice, soft and pillowy, and finally your curiosity got the better of you, as you came to a halt. You wanted to look this asshole in the eyes and flash him the pistol you kept, maybe fire a warning shot over the hood of his truck so he’d get the message. That no, in fact you did not need a ride, not from him.

Stopping so his passenger window lined up with you in the center you eyed the only other beating heart on the side of the road.

His hair was past his shoulders, brown and wavy, more than likely frizzy in high humidity. Eyes that were shaped like Bambi’s colored like a bottomless cup of coffee without creamer. His nose sat with a fading sunburn painting along his cheeks, each dwelling a poked dimple in the center. And you swore the key to Heaven was buried in his smile.

When he spoke it was clear that his intentions weren’t to cause you any harm. Minutes ticked by as he waited for your answer.

“Hey, do you wanna see the West with me?”

It was a simple question asked from the quirked mouth of a guy you’d never met before, you would have remembered those eyes in any setting. He leaned an elbow out his window as he threw the truck in park, twisting in his seat to face you a little more. A cigarette dangling from his large hand.

The butter colored sun shone against his caramel curls like a breakfast roll full of sticky sugar, the same light changing his eyes into a whiskey auburn.

He was a complete stranger, but what was even stranger was your one word answer that spread that million dollar grin further onto his face than you thought humanly possible.

You moved your hand from that handle of the gun in your tattered jeans, bearing more holes than actual threads of denim. It was meant for situations just like this, and you had nabbed it from your dad right before you walked out the front door for the very last time.

Instinct told you to run, but something in those dark eyes brought you a wave of calm, whispering out as if you’d known him for years. Your boots had already blistered your heels from walking this far, so what the hell?

Pressing a thumb into the release of the door handle, you swung yourself and your knitted bag into the moth-bitten navajo rug that covered the seat.

His smile didn’t fade, never so much as creased into a frown as he waited for you to get situated. Before he put his truck into drive he explained where he was going.

He was making the grand gesture of looking for love like the kind he grew up watching with his own mom and dad. Explaining that love like that was out there waiting for him, and he was determined to find it, no matter the distance.

Suspicion jumped to your brow, and you tried to stifle the scowl on your lip. “What?” he chirped, a little twist to his lips, “don’t believe in stuff like that?”

This bastard clearly didn’t know heartache the way you were practically related to it. You sigh lazily before looking over at him. Trying not to break his dreams before he even had the chance to realize what a waste of time it was, you simply murmur, “honey, love’s never meant much to me, but I’ll come with you if you’re sure that’s what you need.”

After years of living and growing without being loved, it had become almost useless, something heard in songs or read in books, surely it wasn’t real. But hell, you’d humor this man whose smile danced like a western sunset against a salty ocean breeze, what was the worst that could happen?

A large calloused hand reached across the cab of the truck, and you shook it with a small grin as his voice rubbed like silk across your soul, “I’m Eddie.”

And so it began, the journey to find a love daring to be something greater than anything he’d ever known, hell bent and determined it was out there, wherever that may be.

He had asked about your life. Never pushing when your answers were too short, or ended the conversation entirely. Letting you have your space, he built a trust between the two of you that you weren’t sure about at first.

The roads were desolate, and you couldn’t imagine walking along them alone. You thanked whoever cared that your thoroughfare crossed into his, almost as if destiny had placed you there. Knowing you needed a friend after leaving the only thing you’d ever known and not having a single soul to rely on.

But as time went by, you realized just how much you could rely on him.

That first day, he drove until the windshield bled to ink. Stars dotted across the sky once the sun went to rest, and he encouraged you to follow suit, pulling a hooded sweatshirt from behind his seat and tossing it towards you. Your hesitation told him all he needed to know, that the uncertainty of him was rooted deep. Too deep for you to let your guard down around him.

That pearl handle poked out from your hip and his kind eyes met the scared look in yours. He rubs his lips together before he speaks calmly, “you uhm,” he looks over at you to show how serious this was to him, even if you couldn’t see it in the dark, “you don’t have to worry about using that with me… I’m not that kind of guy.”

His innocence spoke through his eyes in words he hadn’t said, showing you that he wasn’t lying, that you could trust him. You took a deep breath, wondering if you were insane for feeling comfortable with a guy you just met, but it wasn’t long before you whisper, “okay.”

When you snuck a peek over at him, his face was lit by the dim lights of the dash, a smirk nestled on his lips, cheeks welled with the deepest dimples you’d ever seen, and your shoulders eased for the first time since hopping in.

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the night. Your head resting on the window, his sweatshirt rolled under your neck as you fell into a sleep so tender and warm you felt like a baby being lulled to bed as he sang along to the radio.

The heat from the window warmed your cheek when you woke, leaving a less than glamourous mark. Letting out an embarrassingly long yawn, you stretch your arms above your head, feeling your back crack into submission.

“Shit, ‘m sorry, how long did I sleep?” you ask, covering your mouth again from another yawn.

Eddie smiled tiredly, his hair was wrapped into a bun at the base of his neck, sunglasses topping his nose, pushing up from his cheeks as he grins, “don’t apologize for sleeping when you’re tired,” he said, shrugging, “besides, you probably would’ve woken up if I crashed.”

A chuckle hits your dry throat and you cough, “where are we?”

“Still in Texas believe it or not,” he groans, turning it into a long yawn, holding a hand to his mouth, swallowing a bit, “I hoped we could’ve made it to New Mexico before I pulled over but I’m starting to think that ain’t gonna happen.”

You figured he would have stopped to sleep at some point in the night, even if it was just for a few hours. Guilt throttled you at the thought of him staying up while you were asleep. “I can drive while you take a nap.”

“Nah,” he says with a lazy smile, looking over at you, “not that I care if you drive my truck or not, I just think we could both use some decent sleep, watch a little tv, eat, plus… I need a shower.”

Taking a whore’s bath in the gas station sinks had kept you clean, but you almost cried outright at the thought of water, cold or hot you couldn’t care less, running down the length of your body. But the lack of money burning in your pocket stopped that dream in its tracks.

You had a couple hundred bucks left after selling off your car before leaving home. The cost efficient option would be to drive while he slept. “It’s really not a big deal, I promise I’m a good driver.”

The charm you tried to emanate when pulling out your license to show him that you indeed weren’t lying, fell flat as Eddie waved you off, “deodorant only lasts so long before we’ll have to ride with our heads outta the window.”

He laughs in your place as you stare out of the windshield, mind racing over the trouble of being able to afford a motel room.

“C’mon,” he smirks, that same lazy smile stretched on his face, you wondered if he ever got mad. “We survived almost a whole day together, if I was gonna rob you I would’ve done it already.”

“It’s not that,” you say, picking at your nails, fighting the urge to bite them to shreds, “I wasn’t walking because I wanted too…”

Wheels turn in a tired mind as Eddie nearly chokes when he realizes what you meant.

“Don’t worry about it,” he confirms, brushing you off as if it wasn’t a big deal that you’d be bunking with him for free, and when your facial expressions didn’t change, he lowered his voice, and took off his sunglasses, “seriously sweets, you’re doing me a favor keeping me company, ‘m not gonna make you pay for a trip you didn’t plan, okay?”

You sighed, and shook your head yes.

The nearest motel was a hole in the wall type of place. Adhering to the kind of people that either paid by the hour or stayed for weeks at a time. The perk being it was next to a gas station where you refused to let Eddie pay for the armful of snacks he had carried to the counter. Including two hotdogs that you couldn’t be bothered wondering how long they’d been spinning in the warmer.

His boots clunked against the sidewalk as he jumped from the bed of the pickup hauling his duffle bag over his shoulder, the hotel keys wrapped around his forefinger. Outside of you both relieving yourselves on the empty shoulder of the highway last night, this was the first time you’d seen just how tall he was.

He squints in the sun and cocks his head, “bet you a dollar the carpet is orange.”

Room 8 consisted of two full sized beds, a lamp between the two, an arm chair and a small television. A stiff neon brochure for adult channels lay next to the remote, and you scrunched your nose as Eddie pushed it to the floor with the heel of his boot.

Laying out the snacks neatly on the table, you hand him the other hot dog, licking a drop of mustard from your palm. He thanked you, and took a bite consuming almost half of it before dropping onto the bed closest to the door, laying flat on his back.

Having four walls around you gave you a sense of peace you hadn’t been expecting. Slipping off your shoes you wiggled your bare toes and sat on the bed facing away from him, rolling your socks into one another.

“How’s the hotdog?” you asked over your shoulder, moving your bag between the side of your bed and the wall for the bathroom.

A muffled sound comes from the other side of the room as he shovels another bite in, “rubbery, but not too bad for having been made at midnight.”

You snort and swing your legs into the bed. Grabbing the hotdog from the comforter and peeling back the white paper around it, taking a small bite. It was warm, and tasted a hell of a lot better than the moldy ham sandwich you ate yesterday. A satisfied hum leaves your mouth and you giggle.

“Hotdogs for breakfast… don’t think I’ve ever had this before.” You laugh again before taking another bite of the squishy snack. Eddie looks up as he chews the remaining bite, realizing this was the first time he’d ever heard you laugh loud enough for him to hear, what a beautiful sound.

“Stick with me, we’ll have breakfast for dinner, too,” his tongue pokes out to lick a smear of ketchup from the corner of his lip, and he yawns loud and proud.

You cross your feet beneath your legs, a content little smile on your face. “Do I still owe you a dollar if the carpet is also brown and green?”

Your combined laughter echoes across the wood paneling and the pictures of dogs playing poker. The two of you joke about the severely dated room, agreeing that this was probably the place to stay in its prime. But the sheets were clean and that’s about all you could ask for at this point.

Eddie’s eyes were nearly closed as he scrubs large hands down his face, his voice strained, “mind if I shower ‘fore I fall asleep?”

“Not at all,” you say, jumping from the bed and looking through the snacks to find the licorice, “take all the time you need.”

He tosses the remote to your bed and unzips his bag, pulling out a toothbrush and a clean pair of boxer briefs, a minute passes and he scratches his head before diving back into the bag, yanking out a folded pair of sweatpants.

Sighing as he peels off his boots, he walks to the bathroom door and before shutting it, he pokes his head back out, a curious little grin on his lips as he asks earnestly, “you’re not gonna run away, are you?”

You swallow the bite of licorice and smile back, “think you’re stuck with me, if that’s cool with you?”

His grin broadens to a cheshire smile and he says he won’t be long, promising to save some hot water.

Neither of you can quit the grin on your lips until the door unlocks, and Eddie mutters “cool,” to himself before leaving the steamed bathroom.

Diners with smudge stained windows and siding that was warped from the sun's rays, came few and far between on those lone, dust covered roads. Eddie had pulled into almost every one. “Never know when the next one will pop up, sweetheart,” he smirked, sending a wink your way that had your stomach fluttering.

Each menu, although stickier at some places than others, was relatively the same. Eggs, Bacon, Toast. Waffles at the fancier joints or maybe a bowl of fruit alongside a flapjack.

He watched you intently as your eyes scanned the menu, keeping his promise of having breakfast for supper a few week into your trip. His own stomach had been grumbling since you packed up from the last motel somewhere on the border of Oklahoma and New Mexico. A wrong turn near McCamey had taken you North to Amarillo, three hundred miles in the completely opposite direction.

Instead of screaming about the wasted fuel, Eddie had only shrugged. He was excited to cross into the panhandle, and to make a check along the list of states you’d scribbled onto a napkin a few days into the trip to cross off as you came through them.

That quiet, suspicious drifter he had picked up three weeks ago seemed to blossom with life the more he peeled back the bricks that you had surrounded yourself with. But Eddie was charismatic, easy to talk to, and you found yourself deep in the throes of explaining things to him you haven’t talked about in years.

When your cheeks would heat and embarrassment creeped up your neck, you apologized for talking too much. He only shook his head, a small smile on his lips as he said that he didn’t mind, he wanted to know more.

The waitress strolled back over with a cigarette hanging from her lip, a gray ash practically a mile thick on it as she grumbled about the specials and set glasses of water on the table—ice already melted besides a sliver of a stubborn cube.

“I’ll take a cup of coffee,” he charmed, folding the menu placing his hands on top of it, “two eggs hard fried, a couple of sausage patties and wheat toast, also one of those slices of lemon meringue pie I saw in the display window.”

Without so much as a grunt, the waitress lifted her eyes to look you over. Setting down the vinyl menu, you place your order and lick your lips at the thought of the homemade lard crust on the rhubarb pie.

Looking out the window to the dry landscape, you sigh with a breath of content. You had never been this far west before, never been anywhere really besides the small town you grew up in.

Two coffees sit in front of each of you and Eddie thanks the waitress, a dimpled grin on his cheeks as he opens a packet of sugar. Warm eyes look at you as he stirs the coffee into a swirl, “Nothing like home, huh?”

A smile presses to your lips and you sip the bitter liquid, chipped porcelain against your front teeth, “definitely not, the air is dry here.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, slipping the spoon into his mouth to clean the coffee up, taking a big gulp of the burnt— probably microwaved— concoction, “it is, but that’s the beauty in the journey, exploring different places, meeting new people.”

He tucks a curl behind his ear, a tiny silver hoop in his lobe, you hadn’t noticed before and you ask, “you keen on picking up strangers on the side of the road?”

A laugh bubbles from his throat, and he smiles big showing all of his teeth, “in all the years I’ve been on the road, I never have, not until you,” he takes a sip of his coffee, a pretty blush rides on his cheeks, “guess I haven’t run out of luck just yet.”

You hide your own smile, itching your nose, “how long has it been?”

Eddie thinks for a minute, “well, I left Florida when I was seventeen..,” he adds up the years on his fingers with this thumb moving to each one, “… shit,” he says with a smirk, “almost nine years now.”

He was older, not by much, but you had both left at a younger age. Calling the open road and warm air home for years. Living like a Steve Earle song sporting a two pack habit and a motel tan, it seemed like fate put you on the same road that he was traveling that day.

But you push that thought away, Eddie was looking for love, and you were just tagging along like a pet, a friend at best.

“Do you ever miss it?”

He stretches himself across the booth, arms on the back of the peeling seat, pearl snaps straining against the denim from the broadness of his chest, and you find it hard not to look, “Nah, I’ll go back someday, me and my girl.”

That flutter happens again in your stomach and you feel almost nauseous at how infectious his smile is.

You spend the rest of dinner that way, trying to shove down a grin with each bite of breakfast food as the sun fell behind the mountains. Letting the butterflies swarm, with each time he looked into your eyes.

Not knowing that Eddie was also slowly losing his own battles, leaving with something more in his stomach that was sweeter then the stiff meringue on that damn lemon pie.

🌵 taglist: @joejoequinnquinn @micheledawn1975 @dashingdeb16 @hereforshmut @welc0me-t0-hellfire @aropodcastfuck

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie drabble #eddie blurb

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sungbeam · 8 months ago

Text

𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢 𝐝𝐨!

nonidol!jung wooyoung x f!reader

the one where you're stuck in denial and wooyoung's determined to not be stuck in the friend zone.

7.7k words, fluff, f2l, they've kinda got a banter thing going on, he's in a frat cuz i said so, college au, swearing, kissing, mentions of alcohol and food, pining, obliviousness, jealousy/insecurity if you squint...? (sorry mark), barely proofread, overall pretty wholesome

a/n: okay... wooyo brainrot going hard lately, but anyways, hope u enjoy <3

The horizon glittered like a sea of molten gold when you stepped onto the sandy shores of the beach. Seagulls squawked overhead, riding the setting sky like your friends currently in the surf. You smiled to yourself, inhaling the briny air and slipping the shades off your nose and up onto your head. Your sandals hung limp in your hand as grains of sand embedded themselves into the soles of your bare feet while you jogged down the hill toward the bonfire and crowd of people.

The last week of summer before the fall semester brought your friends to convince you to come to their last bonfire at the beach. It wasn't difficult to persuade you.

“Oy, Yn! Head's up!"

Your eyes shot open and your head whipped up. Sandals fell from your hand as they came up to grab the frisbee out of the sky. It was plastic and blue, with scratches engraved into its surface from thorough use.

Hoots of approval erupted from further down the bank. "Nice catch!" Yeonjun praised as he jogged to meet you in the middle. A light blue Hawaiian shirt hung loose off his lean frame, unbuttoned to display the glorious, toned muscles of his chest.

You grinned, handing him the frisbee before picking your sandals back up. The two of you walked together back towards the group. "Thanks. How're you, Jun?"

He pulled you into a brief, yet affectionate side hug. "I'm great! You?"

"Same here." You had been itching for an outing—and dreading the first day back to class—so this would be good for you. “Who's here today?”

“Ah, y'know, the usuals.” He grinned at you then, sending you a teasing wink. “Your lover boy's here for sure. He wouldn't miss this for the world.”

Your skin warmed at the playful comment and you were failing to pretend it was just because it was hot out here. You rolled your eyes. “He is not my lover boy.”

“Based on the fact you knew who I was talking about though,” he drawled with a singsong tone. He let out a loud guffaw at your less than gruntled expression. “You know, he ditched his frat's annual pool party to be here.”

“That's his prerogative—I don't know how that relates to me,” you said with your palms raised up helplessly.

As you turned around to walk in front of him, Yeonjun wrinkled his nose with a grin. “It's cute when you're in denial.”

You scoffed, backpedaling in the opposite direction to where Changbin was hollering for him to hurry up with the frisbee. “Denial, as if.”

“Whatever you say, Cher,” he snickered, then raised his hand up in goodbye to jog across the sands to the game of frisbee.

You huffed a laugh and shook your head. The sun glared in your eyes as you trudged through the sand toward the sounds of your other friends hollering at you from the barbeque and speaker system set up. You flicked your shades back over your eyes, an easy smile coming to your face. “Hi everyone! Smells delicious over here.”

Chan was stationed at the small, portable barbeque with a bottle of beer in his hand. He smiled as you neared, digging his hand into the cooler beside him to pass you a fresh bottle of hard lemonade. “You're right on time, Yn. Dinner is almost ready.”

“I do believe I have impeccable timing,” you mused, thanking him while accepting the bottle. You dropped your sandals to the sand by your feet so you could free your hands and twist the bottle cap off.

“So glad you could make it, Yn!” Lia chimed in from her spot beneath the beach tent. She and Chaeryeong were lying on their stomachs with books splayed out before them for a light beach read.

“Hey guys! Glad I could make it, too—”

“Oh my god, is that Yn Ln?”

Your head whipped around in the direction of the new voice, and you watched as Felix trudged up the sandy bank with his surfboard under his arm, his free hand brushing back his strands of damp hair.

“Felix Lee, you've been chickening out on me all summer.”

He gave a lazy smile back at you as the two of you clasped hands in greeting, his being cold and wet from the waves and yours dry and gritty with sand. “You say that like you haven't been working all summer. Anyways, there's someone who's been dying to see you even more than me.”

You could spot the impish mischief in the blond's eyes from a mile away. “I feel like everyone's been telling me the same thing, but I haven't seen Wooyoung anywhere.”

“First time she says my name, and it's not even to my face,” came a dramatic sigh from somewhere behind you.

The organ in your chest kicked into action and you turned to face the newcomer bounding toward the group from up the hill where the parking lot was. He was clad in a pair of board shorts and a tank top, his skin glowing in the golden afternoon light. “Speak of the Devil,” you jested, poking your tongue into your cheek as you smiled.

Jung Wooyoung peered at you from over the rim of his sunglasses as they slipped down the slope of his nose, then pushed them up to nestle in his locks of dark brown hair. “That nickname's a new one.”

“It's an expression, Jung,” you said, eyebrow arched.

He gave yet another melodramatic sigh. “And she's back to the last name-calling. Would it kill you to try a 'sweetheart’ or a 'darling’ one of these days?”

“I think Yn would rather go into cardiac arrest before calling you by your first name, mate,” Felix gave a warm laugh as he sidled up beside his friend, propping his arm up onto Wooyoung's shoulder.

You lifted your bottle of lemonade in salute. “Lix, you are not wrong. Where've you been anyways, Jung?”

“Did you hear that? She cares about my whereabouts,” he gasped in giddy delight, palm over his mouth as if he and Felix were co conspirators. “I'll have you know, Ln, that Hyunjin and I were scouting for ice cream carts, but he had a phone call to take so I came back here.”

You gave a pleasant hum, knocking back a sip of the spiked lemonade. “An ice cream cart? A man after my own heart.”

“Took you that long to notice?”

You weren't given much time to ponder on that statement before everyone's attention turned to Chan, who announced that it was finally time to eat. By some miraculous force of nature, Hyunjin heard Chan's call, too, and came barreling down the hill toward base camp a few moments later. The frisbee was laid to rest, the books were marked for later, and the bonfire was set ablaze.

With delicious eats and favored company, the lot of you gathered around with one another to have dinner and watch the sun slowly sink into the horizon line. It was the perfect cap to a long and warm summer.

A few hours later, when the sun had only just disappeared from view to leave the sky a lingering shade of hazy orange, you settled beside Lia, Chaeryeong, and Yeonjun on one side of the fire pit while Chan sat on his stool with a ukulele he kept in his backseat. (You were pretty sure that ukulele lived in his backseat at this rate. Once, you saw him buckle the thing with its own seatbelt. To each their own, you supposed.)

“So Wooyoung-ah,” drawled Changbin from his perch beside Hyunjin, as the two of them plucked chips out of the same bag, “did Hongjoong say if movie night was confirmed for next Friday?”

All eyes flickered over to Wooyoung expectantly, and you found yourself meeting his gaze as his own flitted from your eyes and back to Changbin. “I’m pretty sure we're still on for Friday, yeah. All of you better be there,” he said pointedly, his finger drawing over the group.

“What time is it again?” Yeonjun asked as he shoved a marshmallow into his cheek. You smiled to yourself and poked at it, making him send an adorable scowl your way.

Wooyoung pursed his lips. “Ah… it should start around nine o'clock. But make sure you guys text me first so I can let you in. Sometimes the pledges don't care to ask before collecting fees at the door.”

Nods and murmurs of agreement resounded from around the group. Each one of you had your own experience with getting hassled for entry fee at the ATZ fraternity door before Wooyoung or one of his frat brothers came to collect you. You remembered Felix once joking about having all of your names on a list or something.

“Ln, you're coming, aren't you?” Wooyoung nodded at you from across the bonfire. He leaned his elbows onto his knees, his fine features illuminated by the fires.

Your pulse skipped. “Hm? Oh, uhm, yeah I'm pretty sure.”

A smile curled onto his lips. “Good.”

From beside you, Yeonjun lightly smacked the back of his hand against your shoulder. “Hey, you should totally invite that guy from our Econ class—y’know from last quarter—?”

Your eyebrows creased. “Mark?”

“Who's Mark?” The question Wooyoung posed was innocent, but you couldn't help hyperfixate on the way he tilted his head and pressed his lips together.

And for some reason, you wanted to clear this up. “Mark from Econ,” you said. “He, Jun, and I used to sit with each other during class. I dunno if he'd wanna come with…” You somewhat kept in touch with Mark over the summer, but it wasn't like the two of you hung out solo or anything.

Yeonjun shoved another marshmallow into his mouth, but still spoke through it, “Mawk's cool doe. I fink he iked you.”

“Ooh, someone had a crush on you, Yn?” Hyunjin snickered.

You wrinkled your nose at him. “He did not have a crush on me; he was just nice.”

“You should invite him anyway!” Chaeryeong piped up as she leaned over you and Lia to steal a marshmallow from Yeonjun's bag. The owner of said bag watched the stolen marshmallow get swallowed whole with wide eyes. “More the merrier.”

“As long as Woo lets him in,” Felix muttered into his plastic cup so his words were slightly muffled. You didn't hear what he said, but you saw Wooyoung whack him and induce a Felix-standard fairy giggle.

You reached into Yeonjun's marshmallow bag, pretending he wasn't gawking at you with even wider eyes to guilt you into not taking his precious. “Okay, I will ask, but no promises.”

“Who the fuck is Mark from Econ?”

San barely glanced up from what he was reading and he flipped the page to the tune of Wooyoung's rapid pacing of their shared room. “He's from Econ, I'm guessing.”

Wooyoung stopped in the middle of the open space between their beds, hands braced on their hips. He had just gotten home from the bonfire after having dropped off Hyunjin, Yeonjun, and Changbin at their apartment. When he'd arrived home to the ATZ fraternity on Greek Row, he had not been surprised to find nearly everyone still awake, even at one in the morning.

San, as always, had his nose buried in a bout of nightly reading. He claimed it helped him sleep better, but how could it if he sometimes stayed up until five in the morning because he was so invested?

“That's very helpful, thanks,” Wooyoung deadpanned.

His friend spared him a glance from over the book's edge. Then after one peak at his sorry state, San sighed and stuck an old receipt into the book to mark it for later. “Did they mention a last name? Mark who?”

Wooyoung waved his hand around. “Agh, I dunno. Yeonjun said in the car ride home something about a Mark Lee…”

San blinked, head tilting to the side in thought. “Mark Lee? Like the Mark Lee from NCT down the street?”

For a moment, Wooyoung only stared with furrowed brows, allowing the information presented to process through his brain. When it hit him, it was clear as day. He groaned, dragging his palms down his face as he plopped down on the edge of his bed. “We can't let him into Friday's movie night, Sannie.”

“And why not? He's a nice dude.”

“That is exactly why we can't let him in!” At the way San's face arranged itself into the epitome of confusion, Wooyoung waved his hands around in a manic craze. “If he gets cozy with Yn, my chances are ruined.”

San gave up; he picked up his book again. “Sounds like a skill issue.”

“Movie night? Dark setting? Sharing blankets? Fairy lights overhead?” Wooyoung flopped onto his back and glared at the ceiling. It was the perfect way to get closer to you if he could somehow make it not weird since you were almost always with one of your other friends. This could arguably be his big breakthrough with you; it had all of the makings of a romantic night… as long as everything went right.

He just needed to be absolutely sure that your feelings and his feelings were on the same page.

San sighed, the book flopping onto his lap. “Why can't you just—I don't know—insert yourself?” He made a motion with his arm, his dimples digging into his cheeks as he pressed his lips together in a deadpan, arm jutting straightforward. “Insert. Like… insert.”

Wooyoung craned his head up from his position. “Like—insert?”

“Insert,” San affirmed. “She sits down, and you sit down next to her before anyone else can. Easy.”

“So you want me to be a parasite?”

San scoffed and fixed Wooyoung with a pointed look. “If you're not going to tell her to her face that you like her—”

“Parasitism, it is!”

As the days grew closer to the ATZ frat's annual fall movie night, you had to admit that you might have been severely procrastinating on extending an invitation to Mark. Mark was, by all counts, a nice guy. He was a good guy, in fact. But it wasn't like the two of you were buddy-buddy with each other, as Yeonjun made it sound like to everyone else. It was the equivalent of your mom asking you to invite your neighbor to your birthday party—they were nice enough, but you weren't close enough to ensure this wouldn't be awkward.

Plus, you couldn't get this sticky feeling out of the back of your mind about Yeonjun claiming Mark liked you. There was no problem, per se, with a guy liking you. It was just that… you weren't interested in him like that. You also didn't want other people thinking that you were interested in him either, and getting the wrong idea.

You tried to convince yourself that you weren't interested in anyone at the moment, but you knew, deep in your heart of hearts, that wasn't true. You just didn't want to admit it. (A tragedy, indeed.)

When the first Friday night of the university term rolled around, you and your friends pulled up outside the ATZ frat house without Mark Lee. You'd admitted to them that it was awkward, so the subject was easily brushed away. There was nothing they could do about it now, anyway.

When they strolled up to the entryway, Yeonjun told the pledges at the front that they were with Wooyoung. As per protocol, they forced you all to wait outside until Wooyoung could get there from wherever he was within the house. You could hear the music thumping from the backyard, along with chatter and laughter, all from people waiting for the movie night to start.

You shivered as you hugged your arms around your body, a cool autumn breeze blowing past. “Damn, I should've brought a jacket,” you laughed, hopping around from foot to foot to stay warm. Or maybe you should've worn a sweater rather than a T-shirt over your pajama shorts.

Lia perked up. “Oh! I think I have o—”

Felix's eyes widened as he interjected, “No, you don't!”

Everyone passed Felix a strange look, especially you and Lia. Curiously, you watched as Felix seemingly communicated with Lia in silent, urgent facial expressions before smiling at you like his regular, ray-of-sunshine self.

You blinked. What in the world…?

Lia turned back toward you with an apologetic wince on her face. “I think I took my jacket out of the backseat before I left the house. Sorry, Yn.”

“Oh, that's okay,” you assured her. “I'll, uh, probably steal Chan's blanket or something once we get settled.”

Wooyoung appeared at the door moments later, a lollipop stick between his teeth and a cozy dark blue hoodie on his frame. Like many others here tonight, he was in a pair of pajama pants and fluffy slippers. “Hey guys! Come on in.”

Thankful for the excellent timing, you all slipped inside the front doors of the frat to get to the backyard. The movie night was usually held in the backyard space just because it could hold more people. The movie was then projected against the back of the house with an old projector that was apparently passed down from generation to generation of the frat. There was oftentimes a table to the side that was stocked with snacks and booze for all those attending.

Wooyoung led the group of you out into the backyard, specifically to a spot with a decent view, already laid out with picnic blankets and regular blankets. “Tada!” He exclaimed with jazz hands, catching the amused gaze of others nearby. “I reserved a spot for all of us!”

“Without permission!” Somebody—you recognized Yunho's teasing grin from over by the snack table—yelled.

“Seonghwa hyung said I could!” Wooyoung shot back in proper little sibling fashion. He stuck one of his hands into his pockets and took his lollipop out. “Anyways, help yourselves!”

“This is really cool of you, dude,” Changbin said as he bumped Wooyoung's fist and settled on one corner of the setup.

Chan hobbled over toward Changbin. “Yeah, man. We really appreciate it.”

You murmured your own thanks to Wooyoung as you passed by him to decide on where to sit.

His eyes flickered over your form, noting the way you used your palms to keep your arms warm. “Hey, Ln.”

“Jung,” you mused back.

“You didn't bring a jacket?” He asked incredulously. “It's gonna get colder tonight.”

Sheepishness washed over you and you scratched your head with an embarrassed smile. “I'll be fine under the blankets.”

He shook his head, dissatisfaction clear on his face, as he stuck his lollipop back into his mouth and began shouldering off his jacket.

Your eyes widened when you realized what he was doing. “Hey, wait—I’ll be fine—”

Wooyoung held out the jacket to you, eyebrows lifting in silent communication. 'Put it on.’

You pursed your lips and considered it for a moment. You knew that he was right and it was going to get colder later tonight. You could only bring the blanket up so far… Slowly, you slipped into it with his help, and your upper body was immediately grateful for the warmth.

Wooyoung spun you around to face him again, swiftly reaching for the zipper at the bottom to zip you up.

“Oh, you don't have to—” You shut up with one look from him. You could feel your skin begin to warm, not just because of the residual heat from Wooyoung's body heat on the jacket. You weren't exactly used to this, but you also weren't going to complain. This article of clothing smelled sinfully good—was that his cologne or how he always smelled?

When you were all zipped up, his lips pressed into a content smile. “I'm gonna go grab another jacket. I'll be right back,” he said, throwing a thumb back in the direction of the house.

Based on the fact he was only wearing a tank top underneath the jacket you now wore, you nodded vigorously. “Yeah, of course,” you stammered. “Thanks.”

His smile widened. “No problem, Yn. You look good in it.”

You didn't get another word in because he was darting across the backyard and disappearing inside the house before you could. You were sure you looked as flustered as you felt, and you slowly sank onto the blanket set up beside Chaeryeong and Lia.

From down the line, you could feel your friends’ eyes and wagging brows.

“Don't say anything,” you said to them, pulling your knees to your chest and pretending you weren't in heaven from how nice the jacket felt and smelled. (Oh god, were you being weird about this?)

A snort from Hyunjin.

Felix giggled. “Not a single word.”

By the time Wooyoung returned, Hongjoong was beginning to fire up the movie of choice tonight (Parasite—how fitting) and the backyard had been substantially populated.

Though there was no Mark Lee tonight to be a parasite about, Wooyoung settled on the other side of Chaeryeong who was right beside you. There was a bucket of popcorn per every three or so of you. You dipped into the bucket closest to you, which was the one in front of Chaeryeong.

At some point during the movie, Chaeryeong raised her head from where she was resting against your shoulder and searched the area around you. “Hey,” she whispered to you, “my friend from the Delta sorority is over there and I'm gonna go say hi.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

As she clambered to her feet, you met Wooyoung's eyes from her other side. He had tugged his own hood over his head, so only his bangs hung out of it. He nodded toward Chaeryeong in question: ‘Where’s she going?’

“Just a friend,” you answered quietly.

From your other side, you heard Lia make a small gasping sound. “Ooh, I'm gonna say hi, too!”

When both of them had cleared out, you craned your head around to see if you recognized the Delta they went to greet. You did not, and so you stayed put.

It didn't take long for you to realize that you were pretty sure Lia and Chaeryeong were over there for much more than a hello, which was completely fine—you were simply going to hog all of their blanket space—

A throat cleared on your left side, and you watched Wooyoung take the shared popcorn bucket and scoot over into where Chaeryeong was sitting next to you. “So we can reach easier,” he reasoned, shoveling a handful of buttered kernels into his mouth.

You couldn't and didn't argue with that. Though, you were unsure of how fast your heart was beating now that you and he were shoulder to shoulder, leg to leg.

But you turned your attention back to the movie because obviously there was nothing wrong with this. There was absolutely nothing about sitting this close to Wooyoung that was making you flustered—

You jolted when your hand touched his in the popcorn bucket, both of you having blindly reached in.

Your eyes met in the dark again, and you hoped he couldn't see just how affected you were by the touch. “Sorry,” you whispered, withdrawing your hand swiftly.

“No, it's okay,” he murmured back, a small lift in the corner of his lips. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

When the movie reached its inevitable conclusion, it was nearing midnight. Though the projector was turned off, there were plenty of people still lingering to chat and drink. You wiped your hands on a napkin and smeared on a dollop of hand sanitizer that Chan usually kept in his pocket. (The crazy man was always prepared.)

Lia and Chaeryeong eventually came back to the group, but you and Wooyoung scooted over so they could sit next to each other on your right. Your arm was still pressed to his arm, and you still kept his jacket on. It had done a brilliant job at keeping you warm tonight; you were dreading parting with it.

“Can we help you guys clean up or anything?” You asked him as you passed him Chan's bottle of hand sanitizer to use.

He hummed, “Uh, I think we should be okay. We'll probably just end up leaving half of it out to clean up in the morning anyway.”

You nodded, taking the hand sanitizer back from him so you could pass it down the assembly line to Chan.

“Oh, by the way,” Wooyoung piped up. “Whatever happened to that Mark guy you were gonna invite?”

You paused, cupping the back of your neck. “Ah… yeah, I didn't actually invite him,” you admitted. “I just thought it would be awkward 'cause we're not really that close.”

He bobbed his head in understanding. “I see, I see. So what Yeonjun said about him…?”

“Your first mistake was listening to Yeonjun.”

Two people down, you heard a squawk of indignation. “Hey! I heard that!”

A chuckle rang out amongst your group. Changbin and Chan's end of the blanket mass suddenly began standing up, the former of which was propping up a half-conscious Felix, citing needs to get the blond to bed. The rest of you wholeheartedly agreed and joined them, empty popcorn buckets in hand to deposit back at the snack table.

As soon as your bare legs hit the cold night air, you gazed forlornly at the blanket you'd been using before. “Jung, let me give you back your jacket,” you said, catching his attention before he wandered off.

But instead of waiting for you to take off the garment, he placed a hand over yours to stop you from unzipping it. “Keep it,” he said.

“Keep it?” You parroted back dumbly.

He broke into a smile. “Yeah, it'll keep you warm until you get home.”

For a moment, you could only stare. Was he always this pretty? Or was it just the fairy lights that were turned on overhead? You swallowed, your lips curling into a small smile back. “Oh okay—thanks. I'll get it back to you as soon as possible.”

“Whatever you say,” he chuckled and reached over to pat your head. The action made a jolt of warmth run down your spine from your head to your toes. Maybe you were just tired.

Saturday night, you found yourself jostling around in the crowd of all the other late night snackers at the fast food chain a few blocks from the stadium. The first college football game of the season had just ended, and all of your friends who had gone agreed to get a bite to eat afterward. It seemed, however, that nearly everyone else at the game had the same idea.

The establishment was packed to the brim, at least the ordering area was. Your friends had gone outside to score one of the picnic benches for your group, while you, Changbin, and Felix were stuck here to order. (It was all because the three of you sorely lost a game of rock, paper, scissors, and now your wallet would pay, quite literally.) Servers behind the counter hollered out order numbers, and plastic trays of burgers, fries, milkshakes, and grease passed hands.

Your mouth was already watering; cheering and screaming for three hours was a good way to make yourself famished. “Do we have everyone's orders?” You asked your friends, sticking your head in the open space between their shoulders.

Changbin flashed you the group text. “If it's not here, they're starving.”

“Amen to that,” Felix grunted, shaking his bangs out of his eyes and scrolling through his social media fees. “I think Hyunjin and Yeonjun purposely ordered the triple cheeseburger and loaded fries to break our banks.”

“We need to watch that WikiHow video on winning rock, paper, scissors,” you said. The three of you sighed altogether—next time, you wouldn't rely on just luck to get you through something so high stakes.

“You guys look like we just lost the actual game,” mused a familiar voice behind you.

Wooyoung appeared at your side, elbow propped onto your shoulder, accompanied by a couple of his frat brothers, San and Jongho. Wooyoung had a university branded cap over his head with a pair of cherry red heart glasses seated up on the bill, a bit of school spirit in the form of black and red. “I see you lost rock, paper, scissors, Ln.”

You scowled. Of course he knew how you ended up here. After all, he was subjected to it whenever he hung out with your group of friends. “Do you wanna take over my share of the bill, Jung?”

“Do I get something in return?”

“I don't know, your jacket?”

He grinned. “Oh, so you weren't planning on just giving it back to me?”

“I will gladly keep it if you don't want it. She's in the dryer right now,” you shot back. At some point, your heart had kicked up in your chest again, perhaps at the proximity of Wooyoung to you. There wasn't much space in here as it was.

The line scooted up about two centimeters, and Wooyoung's eyebrows shot up in amusement. “You’re washing it after wearing it once? Or maybe you've been wearing it for the past twelve hours and you're just not telling me.”

You ignored the warmth creeping up your neck. “It's called being courteous.”

“It's called wasting water,” he teased, the elbow on your shoulder shifting to an arm slung around both of your shoulders.

“Oh please. It's being washed with the rest of my clothes!” You exclaimed in your defense as you grew more flustered.

Something giddy lit up on his face as the group of you moved up closer to the register. “So that jacket's gonna smell like you? I might not ever wash it again, Ln.”

It was an unholy amount of time later that you, your friends, and the frat trio finally made it out of the stuffy fast food restaurant with your massive order. Instead of a picnic bench, however, it seemed that both your friends and Wooyoung's were exiled to the curb by the street. The sight was rather laughable—around fifteen or so people seated on the firelane like a line of abandoned ducklings.

Everyone practically swarmed the to-go bags that you and your friends deposited in the grass. You picked up one of the cartons of fries for yourself, standing just outside the circle that had formed.

Mingi was recalling one of the plays from tonight's game with vivid acting when you heard your name being called from down the road.

Curious, your eyes tracked the sound, only to see a group of fraternity guys making their way towards you from the direction of Greek Row. Among them, it was Mark Lee that you recognized first in a red bomber jacket and backwards cap. His cheeks were flushed and eyes twinkled like a pair of diamond earrings.

“YN LN! IS THAT YOU?” He giggled, and you just knew that the poor guy was drunk off his face.

One of his friends with a bunny-looking face grappled onto his arm with a groan. “Sorry! He was double-dared to take one too many shots by this bastard,” he said when they neared and cut a glare to one of the tall boys behind him. Said tall boy whistled, pretending not to hear him.

Yunho cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a loud holler. “Aye, N-City! Jungwoo, where the hell have you been, man?"

“It’s called the engineering program, bro,” the one you assumed to be Jungwoo grumbled. He hobbled over to where Yunho was seated in the circle and knocked his fist against the latter's. “Oh my god, can I steal a fry? That line over there looks awful.”

Mingi lifted his tray of fries up for Jungwoo to pluck a few.

Mark, with the supervision of his bunny friend, scuttled over toward you. “Fries sound so good, dude. Like bro. BRO. I am so hungry.” He giggled again as you extended your fries out to him in amusement. “Thanks, Yn. Do I still owe you for coffee that one time?” He slurred, shoving the slices of potato into his mouth.

You chuckled, offering his friend some fries, but was quietly rejected. “Coffee? That was like, once, Mark. Don't worry about it.”

“I know, but like—like, I keep thinking about it, y'know,” he confessed. In the streetlight, you could see his cherry red cheekbones… almost the color of Wooyoung's glas—what. Where did that thought come from?

Absent-mindedly, your eyes flickered across the circle to where you knew Wooyoung was seated with his brothers. To your surprise, you found him already staring your way.

“—it’d be cool to get coffee again sometime, and be friends! I almost took the next econ class in the series 'cause of you.”

“Oh, really?” You asked, forcing yourself back to the people in front of you and being unable to suppress a giggle. You were touched by the sentiment, and frankly, relieved to hear that you and he were pretty much on the same page about being friends. “The next class in the series is kind of ass though, so I'm glad you aren't gonna have to suffer through it.”

“Aw, but we're all in this together!” He chirped.

His friend gave Mark a small pat on his arm. “We should get a move on before the crowds get worse.”

Mark's eyes widened and he gasped. “You're right, hyung!”

“See you, guys,” you said with a small wave. The two boys threw a similarly warm goodbye to you as they slipped past you and toward the jam-packed fast food joint you had braved just earlier.

Across the wide social circle, Wooyoung couldn't hear exactly what yours and Mark's conversation entailed because of all the chatter. Sue him for being caught staring at you, but he couldn't keep his eyes off you, as per usual. There was a familiar pang in his chest as he watched you bid Mark and Doyoung from the NCT fraternity goodbye, and he mindlessly finished off the tray of fries in front of him.

Although you technically implied to him last night that there was nothing between you and Mark, there was undoubtedly a part of him that still felt jittery at the thought.

There was a nudge against his arm. “Glare even harder, and Mark might wake up with a pair of holes in the back of his head.”

Wooyoung moved his scowl to San beside him, a snicker falling from his best friend's mouth. “I'm not glaring,” Wooyoung protested and reached for a napkin in the middle of the circle.

“Oh, right,” San drawled, “you're staring at Yn.”

“Yes, and?” He shot back. “What'd'you think they were talking about?” He could practically hear the sound of your giggles in his ears after Mark said something. Wooyoung didn't like the way that made his stomach churn—the fact that this other guy was making you laugh. Did he make you laugh like that? Did you look that radiant when you were with him? God, why did you have to be so gobsmackingly gorgeou—

San considered him for a moment as he chewed on the bite of his burger. “Why don't you ask her yourself?” He muttered with a vague gesture of his aioli-covered fingers, “I dunno, go offer to drive her home or something.”

“That's the first good idea I've heard all night.” Wooyoung hopped to his feet, a misshapen plan (of sorts) manifesting in his head. Hopefully it would work out better than the movie night one. (But by some metrics, he could consider movie night a success…)

San exhaled under his breath as his friend went to go find a trash can first. “Can't believe he actually went with that,” he said with a shake of his head. He could only hope now that his friend would finally put himself out of his misery.

Having finished your post-game snack, drowsiness was slowly seeping into your joints and the corners of your eyes. It was bound to be nearing midnight at this time, and with all of the excitement within the past two days, you were about ready to head back.

You swept your eyes over the group to gauge if any of your other friends looked about ready to go home, too, when you felt someone tap your shoulder.

“Can I give you a lift home?” Wooyoung asked as he stood there, cap and glasses hanging from his hand while the other carded through his hair.

Well. “It's like you read my mind, Jung,” you mused. “Do you and your brothers not usually carpool though?”

“Eh, Hongjoong hyung brought the minivan.”

You didn't know why that comment made you laugh—perhaps it was the image of a bunch of ATZ frat members shoved into a soccer mom minivan with Hongjoong at its helm—but a laugh most definitely tumbled from your lips. The sound and sight reflected in Wooyoung's expression, a boyish grin coming to his face and reaching his eyes. “Alright, fine. As long as by taking me home, you aren't abandoning them on the streets.”

The two of you began walking side by side to where he would lead you back toward wherever his car was parked. “Nah,” he reassured you with a shake of his head. He took his cherry heart glasses and slid them up into his hair. “A nice walk home might keep them humble, y'know?”

“And who's to say you don't need humbling, Jung?” You joked.

A smirk curled up on his mouth like a cat's tail. “What? Are you going to humble me, Ln?”

You gave a nonchalant shrug to cover up the rapid pulse hammering away in your veins. “I could finesse your keys, you never know.”

He motioned to the left where his sedan was parked along the side of the street. “I'll have you know that you already have one of my keys,” he said as he rounded his car to reach the driver's seat.

You crinkled your brows together, your hand lingering on the door to the passenger's seat as he fished his keys out to unlock the car. “What key?”

“The key to my heart,” he winked, smile widening.

You glanced away, tongue jamming into your cheek to suppress your flustered smile, but by the sounds of Wooyoung's glee from the other side of the car, you were unsuccessful. “You tell that to all the girls?” You finally said when the car chirped and you slipped into the passenger's seat.

Your car doors slammed in tandem.

“Nope, that one's just for you,” he said, tossing his hat in the back and starting the engine.

The fluttery feeling in your chest was making it difficult for you to sit still. If you were so enraptured by his scent clinging to the fabric of his jacket, then his car must have been level two. Your body melted into the car seat, and you turned your head to watch the world pass through the window with a content expression on your face.

There had been something gnawing at you for a while now. You knew Wooyoung boasted a rather flirty personality; he had always been pretty outgoing and teasing ever since you met. There were so many signs that pointed to him liking you more than just a friend, but you didn't want to jump to conclusions. (Denial? What was that?)

Was this different from when Yeonjun suggested that Mark liked you? Well, yes. This was different because you… it was different because this was Wooyoung, not Mark. It was different because you were suddenly marinating on the idea of him liking you, and not dismissing it like you had with Mark.

You were growing giddy at the idea, in fact. And maybe that made you nervous.

A thought appeared in your head. “Oh, I guess it's a good thing you're taking me home, because now I can give you back your jacket.” For a moment, you deeply considered casually “forgetting” to return the garment, but your integrity won out.

You saw him glance over at you before returning his eyes to the road. “Right, right. Good idea,” he murmured. He ran his teeth over his bottom lip then. “Hey, uhm, weird question.”

“Uh oh,” you joked.

He chuckled. “Yah, it's not an 'uh oh!’ I was just wondering what Mark came to talk to you about.”

Oh. That wasn't exactly what you had in mind when he said he had a weird question.

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second. “You seem awfully interested in me and Mark,” you drawled, uncertain of where this was going.

“I mean—I know you said last night that you guys aren't that close,” he supplemented, tongue swiping over his lip as he turned the corner onto your street, “but he seemed pretty friendly tonight.”

“Mark’s always friendly,” you pointed out. Part of it was just so you could prod a little and figure out why Wooyoung was pursuing this.

“You're not wrong.”

Your head tilted to the side. “So?”

“So?”

You let out a small laugh. “Hey, Jung, what's going on? You're usually not so antsy about these things, especially not with me.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek and your fingers drummed mindlessly against your thigh in anticipation.

Wooyoung glanced over at you again, his lips pressing together. He was entering your apartment complex street now and carefully pulled up along the curb outside. “I would argue that it's the complete opposite.”

“Huh?”

“You can't possibly think that this whole time I haven't been head over heels for you?” He blurted.

Even if the car had stopped, your heart rate most definitely hadn't.

At your loss for words, he killed the engine. “Like, you think I stare at you for fun? No, actually, I stare at you because I'm literally just so attracted to you, it's survival.”

You sucked in a breath. “Jung…”

“And you know, I try to be as obvious as I can, but maybe I'm not? And I'm—I’m trying to be as loud about my feelings as possible,” he continued on, adding in an accompaniment of sweeping hand gestures. “Without actually admitting to my feelings, as stupid as it sounds.”

“Jung. Jung, wait—”

“This wasn't supposed to turn into a ramble, but what I'm trying to say is—”

“Wooyoung.”

He screeched to a halt, eyes widened as if you'd just grown two heads.

Oh, you were so endeared by this man. In this snapshot of time, there was nothing other than utter adoration in your heart for him. “You were probably being very loud, but I'm also hard of hearing sometimes.”

“Extremely,” he agreed with his mouth pressed into a line.

“Hey!”

He broke into a grin that was soft at the corners and tender at the eyes. “Just so you know, I don't treat anyone else like you. You're probably the only person I will ever address by their last name as a term of endearment.”

You laughed, skin warming to the touch. “I'll admit—same here.” A jolt of electricity warmed down your spine at the admission.

“I can't persuade you to even try a 'honey’ or a ‘baby?’ Not even a 'sweetie pie?’”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Maybe you'll unlock some of them as time goes on. It has to feel right.”

He leaned forward onto the center console, a small, happy sigh falling from his mouth. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I can deal with that.”

In reply, you twisted around in your seat to face him, your head leaned against the car seat. “Just so we're clear though…”

“I like you—I do.”

“Good.” Your lips curled into a smile. “I like you, too.”

In the low light of the car, the sky darkened and the only light coming from the streetlight a few cars away, you and Wooyoung shared a soft moment together. The thing that had been needling at the back of your mind was finally subsiding.

Swallowing, you reached forward to brush a strand of hair out of his eyes, and his eyes seemed to shudder. “Yeonjun once called you my lover boy.”

“I'm pretty sure all of our friends knew how I felt,” he snorted.

You made a small gesture with your shoulder, wincing. “Except for me?”

“Except for you,” he sighed jokingly. “Utter pain. But you know what?”

“What's that?”

“I think I like being your lover boy.”

You slowly nodded. “It has a nice ring to it.” You couldn't help another smile as you rolled it over and over in your mind. Your lover boy, your lover boy, your lover boy… “My lover boy.”

Wooyoung pressed his palms together like he was praying, his hands touching his lips. “Give me the strength—I can't not kiss you after hearing that come out of your mouth.”

Your heart gave an aggressive palpitation. “Well… I wouldn't be opposed.”

“Hey, lover girl,” he said, mouth split open with a pretty grin, “can I kiss you?”

How could you refuse?

He leaned forward and cradled one side of your face with one hand so he could press his lips against your own. If there was any doubt left in your mind about how you felt for him, it was all dashed away once he kissed you.

When your eyes fluttered open, you met his gaze.

“I think,” he murmured, thumb drawing over your bottom lip, “I just fell for you all over again.

God, how could you compete with that line? You ducked your head, unabashedly flustered. He only cooed at your reaction and came forward to smack a long kiss to your cheek.

When it was determined that you would finally head up to your apartment for the evening, you reluctantly clambered out of his vehicle. He rolled down his window so he could drape himself out of it like a damsel in a tower, his eyes shaped like hearts.

“Is it safe to say that I can keep your jacket?” You jested, stopping in front of his window.

He huffed a laugh. “You know, I thought you'd never ask. But you'll have to trade me for something of yours.”

“Deal, Jung.” You were certain you could think of something.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed <3

atz m.list

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remiivu · 7 days ago

Text

Ghostly Companion-- Chapter 2

<---- Last Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ---->

Thank you everyone for reading! This chapter features mostly soft, domestic fluff as I work out the plot! Next update in ~3 days. Enjoy!

[Ao3 link]

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“Hehehehe!” Is what you awoke to, followed by the heart-stopping blare of cars passing by way too close for comfort.

You jolt, held in place by Mr. Crawling’s firm arms. He laughs again, giving your face a poke. “Not ∎∎∎∎!” He coos rather loudly, and you sigh.

“Yeah, good morning, Mr. Crawling,” you say, despite the sun hardly being up. It’s actually still pretty dark, and as you survey your brand new area, you notice that you’re on a rather steep part of the mountains, adjacent to some dirt roads and the scarce road lights illuminating the area.

“∎∎∎ stops!” Mr. Crawling says, rocking the both of you gently in a soothing back-and-forth motion. Huh, for being dead and rather thin-looking, his lap was actually pretty comfortable.

You eye the area, trying your best to repeat “∎∎∎?”

Mr. Crawling nods quickly with a smile. “∎∎∎!” He says, pointing at the road.

Oh, road?

But– wait, the road is very obviously continuing off towards somewhere, you muse quietly. Perhaps something more like… the path? If you look from his perspective, the monotonous dirt mounds, roots, and rockers were most definitely cut off by the road.

So, path will probably fit somewhat better.

You nodded, “Mhm, path stops. Go with me.” As you stand up, you groan a bit, stretching stiff limbs held tightly together for an extended period of time. Judging by the sky, he must’ve been dragging the two of you for a good amount of time.

You look right and left, and upon seeing no cars, you hurriedly cross the road, watching with relief as he does the same– in fact, he moves much quicker here, traversing the flat land with glee.

Upon crossing the road, you see the lights and tall buildings of your city, numerous of which you recognize based on the shape, ads, or colors.

“Oh thank god,” you smiled, looking back once more to check on your ever loyal ghost. Though he most definitely didn’t understand your relief, he seemed to mirror your relaxed and happy demeanor, swaying ever so slightly as he waited patiently for you to continue.

You grinned, then began to carefully trek through the remaining hills and bushes, mostly following the road from a safe distance. After all, you weren’t quite sure whether or not other people could see your new companion, and you’d much rather get back to your tiny apartment without any extra screams or the need to act like Mr. Crawling wasn’t 2 feet behind you.

Fortunately, Japan is much quieter at dawn than at midnight with most office workers having already gone home after a night of drinking or overtime. The few that remain were early risers much too tired to give their surroundings a second thought or still half drunk and passed out near the station or a random nook in an alley.

Lucky, lucky, lucky you think to yourself as you made steady progress to your apartment building. Feeling slightly more rested and in a better mood, you allowed Mr. Crawling explore the new setting for a few minutes, laughing at his reaction to window displays or any vending machines you passed by.

You felt far more secure walking around an area you know compared to the mountains.

“∎∎∎∎!” Mr. Crawling says, stopping to inspect a small collection of Gachapon outside a large convenience store.

You let out a small snort, his amusement infectious. You can't remember the last time you were that excited over a capsule machine. Maybe it was elementary school?

“Want one?” You ask, giving your bag a small shake to confirm that it still had coins in it.

Mr. Crawling brightened even more, “Me can?”

You fish out your coin pouch, digging around for some 100 yen coins. You pull out 2, handing them over to his hand and placing them in his palm.

You grab 2 more coins and demonstrate, picking out one depicting cute foods. You inserted the coins and twisted the lever, watching as a yellow ball rolled out. You picked it up, popping it open, and unfurling the wrap covering your brand new keychain, revealing a piece of cartoony buttered toast.

Mr. Crawling scooted closer, giggling out “cute cute cute!” as he poked and prodded at the small plastic thing.

Without a moment of hesitation, he inserts his coins into the same machine you had picked out, his hand turning the lever making a suspicious creak and clicking that, in your heart, signified something breaking.

Ah, shit… you thought half-heartedly as he took his yellow capsule, popping it open and tearing off the plastic covering. He let out giggles, staring at his tiny new keychain.

A cute fried piece of mackerel with little x marks over its eyes.

You let out your own laugh, absentmindedly patting his head as he poked and moved his keychain. His head jerks up, grin radiant, as he says “Me like ∎∎∎! Thank you!”

You felt your heart melt as you gave his head a rougher pat. “Of course. Me happy…uh– me happy you happy.”

Mr. Crawling gushed, lunging up to give you a tight hug that nearly brought you to the ground again. Your far more controlled yelp was cut off by your own laughs paired with his giggles as you combed your fingers through his hair. It wasn’t as neat as before, slightly ruffled up and tangled around small pieces of dirt, leaves, and rocks.

Yikes, he needed a bath. Do ghosts need baths? Well, regardless, you probably weren’t that far off, and the remains of dried blood would probably stop looking like the dried mud you knew other people assumed it was when the sun fully rises.

And so, the moment was rather brief, interrupted by some cars passing by, but it was more warmth than you’ve ever really experienced since childhood, and you truly cherished it.

“Alright, c’mon,” You grinned, taking a half a step back to indicate you wanted to move. “We go.”

Mr. Crawling, as sweet as can be, followed after, keeping his new keychain as… safe as can be tucked between his razor sharp teeth, the little mackerel swaying against his chin and jaw.

You tried your best not to laugh at the sight.

The journey to your apartment afterwards was as tedious as you recalled, the same streets looking hardly any different despite the fact that you were basically kidnapped into a new world and nearly died quite a few times. And, while the rush of laughter was nice, you could feel the remaining exhaustion built up from the past 24 hours weighing heavier on your shoulders with every few steps, your hour-or-so long nap hardly the rest you actually needed.

But, you can’t deny, having Mr. Crawling by your side was the motivation you needed as you hiked up roads and through narrow roads as you began to walk away from the most busting parts of the city, entering a residential area that was fairly secluded from the main streets.

Your building was more run down than most, cheap with some decent space for one person and some nice, elderly neighbors (that you really don’t want to traumatize). So, you opened the creaky entrance as quietly as you could, feeling confident that Mr. Crawling wouldn’t make much of a peep of noise until you reached your room.

You were 3 floors up, and you stopped yourself from letting out another huff of laughter at how at-home Mr. Crawling appeared to be on familiar concrete floors and stairs. That was too bad, honestly, as your house had wooden floors and some tatami mats, but a part of your mind, despite knowing how sturdy his limbs were, felt better that he wouldn’t be constantly kneeling and crawling on cold concrete floors like before.

And, really, it would be best for the both of you to leave that place as far behind as possible. In fact, you’d like to convince yourself that everything was a dream, and you simply found a ghost in the mountains like all the ghost stories had warned you about. No blood, no torture room, and no man in red.

All normal. Regular life. No deaths or blood or a creepy face peering at you from every dark crevice.

You pull out your keys, giving your doorknob a soft rattle as it opens, and you breathe in a lungful of air you didn’t realize you could miss so much.

The air was slightly stale, but it was nothing an hour or so of airing out could fix.

You walk in, kicking off ruined shoes by the doorway and hesitating for a moment when you see Mr. Crawling’s… attire.

It wasn’t bad. For crawling in a damp mountain, it was actually very clean, but you were still on the edge of letting dirt and grime inside.

But when Mr. Crawling tilts his head, mackerel clicking against his cheek, you felt yourself give in with a small sigh, and nod with a smile that you simply couldn’t help.

You walked in, waving him in, and once settled upon the hardwood floor, you shut the door tight, ensuring everything was locked.

“∎∎∎?” Mr. Crawling asked, mouth free of a charm. It was now back in his hands.

You hummed, giving him a blank look that you knew he knew meant you didn’t understand.

Mr. Crawling, hardly deterred, points at your home. “∎∎∎? You ∎∎∎?”

Hmm… You contemplate, looking at your room. Was he trying to say home?

“Home,” you say patiently in your language, watching as Mr. Crawling had a turn of looking confused. “...H..” He mumbles, and you nod.

“Home,” you pointed all around your home. “Home. Me home.”

Mr. Crawling followed where your finger was pointing rather comedically, head craning backwards and torso twisting around to see everything you were showing him. “You ∎∎∎. You… home?”

Your smile was instantly matched by his as you nodded quickly in affirmation. “Yes! Me home! Me language. Home.”

Mr. Crawling giggles, then crawls further into the house, exploring. You take the time to get settled, placing your bag on the hanger and plugging your nearly dead phone into the nearest outlet. Stretching your tensed, spent muscles, you finally took the time to look at yourself in the mirror and cringed at the sight.

Firstly, your hair was an utter mess, grime and browned blood crusting up in it, on your face, and on a good amount of the rest of your body. Your clothes were frankly ruined, and you’ll have to burn them or something. There’s no way you’ll be able to explain why that much blood from a presumably missing person is all over you.

You give a glance at Mr. Crawling who paused his cabinet-inspection to, in turn, look at you.

… surely… you contemplate, not even registering the way he’s shuffling a bit under your gaze. Surely I can leave him alone for… 20 minutes? I need to shower at least… scratch the bath. I’ll probably fall asleep if I stay there.

Mr. Crawling hurriedly began shoving stuff back in, the clacking and banging drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?” You question, eloquently, as Mr. Crawling asks, holding a dustpan, “You mad?”

… Oh? “No, no.” You quickly reassure, crossing the room to bend down a bit and pet his head. “Me happy you happy. You… uh..” You pause, eyes scrunching shut as you begin digging in your mind for a word.

“You… can.” You eventually settle with, feeling assured that he understood when he smiled. You watched for another few seconds as he re-emptied the now-messy floor cabinet, digging out items that you’ve frankly forgotten about, before turning away with a small laugh and walking off to the bathroom.

You pulled out a spare set of clothes, dumping your current ones into a pile, and watched as grime and crust poured into the drain.

________________________________

When you step out, feeling refreshed and relaxed, you spotted a mini pile of mess surrounding your brand new roommate who seemed eager, mackerel keychain in mouth, to explore.

You hummed, observing his dirty appearance, before making a decision.

After all, you can’t have someone that dirty resting on a clean, white futon– or even the tatami mats he thankfully hasn’t walked over yet. He needed a bath earnestly.

“Mr. Crawling,” You say, watching him turn in excitement.

“Hello!” He greeted, crawling towards you.

A brief half-second thought ensures that you truly had no word associated with water, wash, or anything along those lines, so you simply pointed into the bathroom, motioning towards yourself and your clean body.

“Uhm, wash. Bath,” You said, heading inside the still steamy room as you rinsed the tub and began filling it with water.

Mr. Crawling inspected it, peering at the warm water. “You,” you said, pointing inside the filling bathtub, followed by the motion of you washing your hair.

He tilts his head, jaw gently chewing at the keychain in his mouth. Then, when he sunk his arm in, you nodded fervently. “Yes yes,” You encouraged, motioning for him to get in.

When he sinks in, clothes bubbling to the surface, you contemplate asking him to take it off, but…

Yeahh, maybe not. You weren’t ready to see… whatever male ghosts had down there.

You pushed the fabric into the water, letting it soak up water until it sunk on its own and grimaced at the small wave of dirt that rose to the surface.

Yikes.

_____________________

Giggles erupted from the bathroom followed by small shouts of laughter periodically for the next 30 minutes as Mr. Crawling enjoyed the bath, splashing water out the tub and nearly melting when you firmly scrubbed his scalp and feet-long locks of hair.

You had drained and refilled the tub about 3 times now, the water finally a consistent clear color, that allowed you to wash and rinse the poor guy with some peace of mind.

“Good good! Happy!” Mr. Crawling cheered as he pushed his head up against your palms and fingers pressed against his head. “Thank you! Thank you!”

You laughed yourself, rinsing out the shampoo by scooping up buckets of water and pouring it over his head. “You really needed this,” you mused, gently layering a thin amount of conditioner onto his hair and letting it sit out on the side of the tub.

You can already see your bank account taking a foreseeable hit once your hair products run out.

Mr. Crawling giggled, taking out his now-warm arms to pet your (thankfully still wet) hair as you briefly scrubbed his legs and arms and attempted to wash his torso through his clothes. They seemed to be thin enough, after all, and it doubles as washing the fabric.

You snorted as hair fell into your face, large damp fingers clumsily pushing them away before you could really react. “You safe!” Mr. Crawling chirped, using his warm hands to cup your face and keep anything else from falling onto your eyes.

You felt your heart skip a beat as your cheeks began to warm themselves up, a soft smile firmly planted on your face. “And you’re very sweet,” you hum good naturedly, finishing up with a last rinse, drain of the tub, and wash down with the nearby showerhead.

You squeezed out as much water as you possibly could from your brand new sentient, crawling mop before helping him out of the tub and onto a towel. You gave him a small warning, motioning him to cover his ears as you plugged in the hairdryer, doing your best to dry him off.

He giggled, pulling his hands off his ears after a few moments and observing the hairdryer, reaching out to touch it a few times. “Cool! Noise ∎∎∎.” He said, watching his hair fly all around the room.

By the end, your arms were sore and your eyelids were heavy with the need to sleep, but he was dry and clean– very, very clean, skin no longer various shades of gray and clothes a step lighter than they used to be.

Before you could stand up and begin your voyage to your bed, he gently tugged you down, pulling you to sit on the towel.

“Huh?” You ask, watching as he fiddled with your hairdryer. He giggled when it roared to life, pointing the heated air at your head and clothes.

Oh… You relaxed, smiling as he tried his best to dry off whatever remaining moisture was in it. It was only slightly damp anyways, the air having done its job, but the tenderness of his fingers trying to run through your scalp and the warmth of not only the hairdryer but also the comfort of returning to some sort of semblance of a normal, soft, and loving life was enough to give rise to brand emotions that surged up from your chest and into your eyes.

You did your best to choke out anything threatening to escape your throat, but there was no hiding the tears burning in your eyes or the way your body tensed up against the knees pressed against your back.

Suddenly, the hairdryer shuts off, and a head smelling like your favorite shampoo pops in your vision, followed by “You sad? Hurt? Sad, you sad, me ∎∎∎.”

You sniffled, giving yourself that at least, and shook your head, quickly wiping off any tears. “No. No, me happy. You… nice. You nice… much. Me happy. Thank you.”

Still, Mr. Crawling looked concerned, giving your body a quick check over and closely inspecting your head to ensure he really didn’t hurt you. When he finds nothing, he leans back, crawling to your side.

“You rest?” He says, and you give a jerky nod.

“Yeah, me… rest. Need rest.” You mutter, standing up and kicking the towels off to the side as well. You could clean that up later.

You lead Mr. Crawling out the room and into the small alcove covered in a tatami mat, opening a cabinet and pulling out 2 futons, unrolling them onto the floor. You then grabbed your pillows, blanket, and hurried to make yourself as comfortable as possible, handing him his set so that he could do the same.

But, instead of setting up his bed like you, he just sat right beside you intently, merely laying down the futon and pressing his pillow against your side.

“What are you doing?” You mumble, voice slightly nasally and eyes a bit puffy. You simply laid down, too tired and half-embarrassed to remain sitting up, but let out a small noise as his body laid on top of yours.

“What are you–”

“You rest,” Mr. Crawling says with a smile, face pressed against your abdomen and his blanket resting against his legs. “You rest. Me ∎∎∎∎ you safe.”

And, honestly, you don’t bother with trying to refute anything anymore. You sighed, letting your overworked muscles relax and gently resting your hand on his head. You were home, you were safe, and you… you weren’t alone. You had someone there with you now. Someone who protected you and could keep you safe in your sleep.

You blink open your eyes briefly when you felt something cold and foreign press into the other hand resting at your side, but upon seeing the small mackerel and toast keychains resting in your palm, you let out a small snort and let your eyes fall shut once again, mumbling a small “goodnight..” as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

“...g…goood…niight…”

That's all! Gave you guys a bit of a longer chapter (~3.2k words) as an extra thanks! Hope you enjoyed ^^

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[Ao3 link]

#mr crawling x you #mr crawling #mr crawling x reader #homicipher #x reader

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14thgalerie · 1 year ago

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path to you

• pairing: theodore nott x reader

• now playing: war of hearts by ruelle

• word count: 7.3k

• genre: angst, fluff every now and then

— not proofread, i wrote this on a whim the other night and only finished last night.

Theodore Nott stood amidst the crowd of returning students aboard the Hogwarts Express, his heart heavy with a blend of emotions. His eyes were ablaze, lit with determination in search of that one familiar figure with locks he spent nights running his fingers through. However, as the last call to board the train echoed through the station, his hope was diminished when there was still no sign of you.

In truth, he knew it was futile right from the moment the both of you had left Hogwarts. The incident— if that was what he would even call it for that— was the moment that Voldemort had truly begun making his appearance known to the students of Hogwarts.

He was no innocent bystander to this, the mark that burns on his right arm is a constant, painful reminder of that. His father had mercilessly subjected him through the initiation process, appointing him watch of Draco to ensure he would follow the Dark Lord’s order just as others had been compelled to do.

However, in the brief moment that he knew your eyes had latched on to an exposed skin of his sleeved arm, a fear struck him, unlike the familiar one that had long been instilled by his father. He decided that he would rather weather the searing pain that seemed to burn deeper for every day that Dumbledore roamed the grounds than prove he was no trustworthy person to you now. He would ignore the ache that pried into his very soul as you steer a conversation away as he picks you up from your friends.

Despite this, in the dark and dreary summer, he is left terribly alone with only thoughts of you entangled in his mind. The old days of sunshine only remain in memory, as he supposes is a communal thing for all of you as Voldemort continued to infiltrate and pollute the magical world with his influence.

Theodore had written you a myriad of letters over the many days, his heart engraved with every droplet of ink that marks the parchment.

I miss you.

I beg of you to tell me that I’m not as forgettable as your silence otherwise makes me feel.

But every owl that returned carried nothing but itself. No words from you. Not a single one even from your friends, a choice he made in desperation, regardless of the consequences if his father found out he had been in contact with one of you.

He knew that they knew where you were, even if it might not be the entirety of it. If there was one thing he truly regretted before, it would be his cowardice. His fear runs deep in the thick crimson inside of him that dictated his every move. Though he shares a strong companionship with Mattheo and the others, Theo remains in awe of the camaraderie that you have with your friends at this time.

Driven purely by the need to be a catalyst; to make an end of this war.

With the sudden void torn into his at your disappearance, Theo found his heart crystallising once again, trying to preserve what little warmth is left by you.

Praying to a god he doesn’t believe in, begging that there will never come a day that he won’t know your last words.

You exhale slowly.

The morning had barely started, and the sun was still but a ray in the dim sky. You tug the blanket over your face, blinking once, twice. The stream below the knife-like hill they had taken camp in, continued its hum.

It has been roughly three months since the start of the school year started, and four months since you have made the decision to accompany Harry, Hermione, and Ron in the hunt for Horcruxes. Four, lengthy months since you’ve last exchanged words with Theo, afraid that you would let this mission slip, Merlin knows he knows you better than you did.

If circumstances were different and he was not tied by that horrific mark, maybe he would be even with you. But reality is unforgiving and you are left in sorrow for the easy times you’ve taken advantage of.

There were times it felt ghastly to keep certain things to yourself, for so long it had been you and Theo, sharing the deepest truths. Then in a snap of a finger, it seemed most of what came out of you were lies, all in the name of protecting your friends. But it was paramount to be cautious nowadays, even if Theo was careful and dedicated to keeping crucial information, you couldn’t shake off the fear that Voldemort may attempt to pry on his mind.

Harry, with all his strength, is no exception to Voldemort’s manipulation of the mind. What more of Theo?

You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if everything came crumbling down the moment Voldemort sought Theo’s memories.

Sometimes, you couldn't help but feel the urge to apparate for even just a moment. Just a minute. You found it difficult to get rid of the nagging feeling that he now despised you for doing this, for running away and leaving him, despite the promise you made only a year ago. It was a constant tug-of-war of the heart and the mind, most days leaving you drained in addition to the physical exhaustion.

I miss you.

I hate this uncertain silence that does nothing but bring you forth.

“Y/N? Are you awake?” You hear a voice call out.

You snap yourself out of your thought

“What time is it?” You mumble. Hermione’s sharp ears are used to your morning voice by now. “It’s already 8 in the morning, Y/N. Get up.”

“Goddess!” You shot up, “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier, my shift was supposed to be an hour ago.”

With one less person in your team, as Ron left in his fury, the rest of you had to take shorter rests now.

“It’s fine, I couldn’t sleep anyway,” Hermione reassures her. You stand and make your way down to the table where a cup of steaming tea is left for you. “Are you alright?” You ask.

She merely hums in question but makes no indication that she will answer. Instead, she walks out of the tent to sit on one of the rocks nearby.

“He will be fine, mione.” You say, following her. “Ron has been through so much in the past, I think by this time, he would be able to get by on his own.”

You pull her into a side embrace, holding her close without saying anything as she rests limply underneath your arm. She needed it. Sacrificing the risk of her parents forever forgetting that Hermione was their daughter had taken a heavy toll on your friend. Leaving them in the house she deemed her sanctuary from the destruction, the madness that reigned outside.

With Ron having left the three of you. Although you weren’t as close with the redhead, you knew he had been Hermione’s shoulder— ever since forever. You understood how she felt or even a spectre of it, for you, too, had left someone behind.

Someone that you could only beg the gods remains breathing and unsullied by the encroaching darkness that seemed to follow him.

“And what about you?” Hermione whispered softly, the tears that lined her cheeks dry now. “What do you mean?”

“Nott.” Hearing the name instantly formed a small, melancholic smile on your face.

“I’m your best friend, Y/N. You can stop pretending to be the shield for us now, Harry and I will be here for you. You can cry.”

Your gaze remains fixed on the sight before you. Atop the hill, the pale gold ball of sunlight emerges and bathes the cold stone in warmth. Reminiscent of the days before the Triwizard Cup, before Cedric died. It all seemed so far away now.

“I’ve exhausted all the tears from me already, Hermione. I miss him terribly. I may just crumble beneath his feet the very moment that I see him again.”

“It’s difficult what you had to do. I can’t even begin to decipher it. The both of you had consistently defied, and will likely continue to do so, every misconception that the others had of you back when you were still friends."

“I hate how there was not a scintilla of hesitation and doubt in me when I had to keep so many things from him when I had to lie to him.” You croak out, voice barely above a whisper.

“You did so because you knew that in the end, it wasn't just for the best of the wizarding world that you deliberately did all of that, it’s all for him. You did it because you wanted to keep him safe from that vile, bald head.”

You nod. It's true. Ever since you found out about the abuse that Theo’s father inflicted upon him, you knew that there would come a day when he would pay the price for it. Knowing that he couldn’t escape him before he turned 17, the only solace you can provide is your unwavering companion.

It only weighed on you heavily that Theo would have to endure it all alone again so that you could work to permanently sever the ties between him and his malevolent father..

“We’re kids.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over, and you clenched your fists in frustration. At Voldemort, at Theo’s father, at your parents who left you all alone, at the lost innocence of your childhood.

“We’re supposed to be ripping our hair off for NEWTS, preparing for life after we leave Hogwarts, dancing and drinking our teenage years away. Why did we have to make all these choices? The storybooks on my shelf speak nothing of this.”

Then, her gaze unwavering firmly set on you as she sat up straight. “We’re doing this so that Voldemort, or any wizard that dares follow his steps, may never inflict the kind of pain on anyone else, the way he did to us and our parents.”

Heart heavy with foreboding and unease, Theodore stands among the students of Hogwarts in the dimly lit Great Hall. The room, devoid of its warm glow and chatter, was bathed in eerie silence where Snape, now the headmaster of Hogwarts, had summoned every student. From the tense shoulders of the man, Theo could only surmise that it was something important. It was rare to see Snape truly bothered.

“Many of you are surely wondering why I have summoned you here at this hour. It came to my attention that earlier this evening... Harry Potter was sighted in Hogsmeade.”

A murmured thrill fills the Hall. Theodore’s eyes widened, as he waited for a sign. If Harry Potter was nearby, it could only mean that you were too.

Snape continues, raising his voice a tad bit to quell the noise. “Should anyone — student or staff — attempt to aid Mr. Potter, that person will be punished in a manner consistent with the severity of their transgression. Rest assured: So long as I am Headmaster at Hogwarts, Harry Potter will never again step foot in this castle.”

Theo only hears the latter of what he said, mind distracted by the idea that you could be in the castle. His feet itched to run out and find you himself. Not an ounce of care for what the man in front is saying.

“Now then. If anyone here has knowledge of Mr. Potter’s movements this evening... I invite them to step forward now.”

However, the sound of footsteps catches his attention in the dead silence, and the younger Slytherin students near him exchange glances with each other. Then a figure appears from the shadows at the back of the hall. Someone that brought forth a sigh of a blend of relief and disbelief from Theo. An action that the younger him would probably scoff at.

“I think I can help you out with that…” Harry exclaims, “It appears that, even with all your thorough defensive measures, you might have a security problem, Headmaster”

The students all stare in utter perplexity, each wondering when and how the bespectacled boy had entered the castle. A vacuous question really for Harry has proven countless times that he is, in several ways, a gifted person who is filled with more courage and resolve than anyone in this room. Even Theodore, who’s good friends with Draco, can admit that fact.

The sight of Harry struck a spark of hope in a place that had grown increasingly bleak since the death of Dumbledore— Diggory’s death if you will. But the spectacle wasn’t yet done there when the doors of the Great Hall swung open, revealing the members of the Order. Their arrival further sets a ripple among the unexpecting students, though from the looks of Harry’s friends, it seems that they were the ones to aid them.

His gaze shifts to watch as one by one, they line up in a defensive pose behind Harry. He Recognizing a few familiar faces like the Weasleys, Hermione, Lovegood, Professor Lupin, Fleaur from Beauxbatons, and even some members of the Ministry.

“How dare you stand where he stood.“ Harry shouts. “Tell them the truth of that night’”

Theodore’s breath catches in his throat. The air becomes suffocating at the reminder of those times, days that still hunt him and the others. He takes slow inhales and exhales to calm himself, knowing that now is not the right time and place.

Snape with his eyes like shards of ice, faced Harry Potter. Theodore watches as he moves as if to retrieve his wand, but before he can do so, McGonagall comes forward and sends a blast in Snape’s direction. Snape pivots and barely rebounds the spell in defence,

Chaos ensues as the rest of the staff leaps forward with their wands out. A short but intense exchange erupted in the middle of the room, making the students shuffle to the side to avoid being hit by the spells and curses that flashed through the air like crackling lightning.

Snape, ever the formidable wizard despite his attitude, held his ground with a stoic determination. But Theo couldn’t help but notice how his old professor merely deflected the curses thrown upon him and never cast his own. It piqued his curiosity knowing that he was a master of the dark arts, prominent in the way lectures were replaced by dark arts in his headship.

In the end, Snape yielded, a moment that sent shockwaves to many.

“A coward, that man.” Professor McGonagall proclaims, before turning to Harry. “Mr. Potter, do you mind telling me what you’re doing here, which, I trust you realise, is an act of complete lunacy?”

Harry replies by simply telling her that he is a Gryffindor which comes to no surprise to the woman. McGonagall then turns to the rest of the students, calling them to settle down after the whole debacle.

Just then, Harry suddenly winces, pressing his palms to his temple, before a rumble rings throughout the Hall. A dark cloud swarming in the Enchanted Ceiling, imminent that the beginning of the war will begin any time now. It is the screams and face of pain that confirms it.

A familiar voice to Theodore sounds off in a deathly whisper in his head. And by the looks of everyone, it was the same for them.

“I know that many of you want to fight. Some of you may even think this is wise. But this is folly. Give me Harry Potter. Do this and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded.“

With that, the whispers recede followed by the dark clouds evaporating into thin air. For a moment, silence ensues. Pansy’s screechy voice scratches in his right ear from where she stands beside him.

“Harry’s right there! Somebody grab him!” Yet nobody gives her a second thought. Everyone’s attention shifts instead to Filch who loudly enters through the Hall, screaming that everyone’s out of bed. The man made Theo chuckle inwardly, making a tiny smirk form on his lips.

“They are supposed to be out of bed, you blithering idiot!” McGonagall tells him off. “Oh right, sorry.”

“Now, as you’re already here, I’d like you to lead the rest of Slytherin House from the Hall to the dungeons.” She adds on before Filch can leave.

Theodore’s thoughts returned, as they always did in the past months, to the one question that haunts the very corners of his mind: Where are you? In this whole happening, his eyes had been moving back and forth towards the group that stood near the large double doors. Trying to catch a glimpse of you in between the still figures. But as you had tortured him, you were still nowhere to be seen and he began to question if you had truly disappeared and left him questions unanswered.

As they were being ushered out of the Hall, he, like many others, was vacillating between insisting upon fighting for Hogwarts or to keep their loyalty to their Slytherin roots. But really, the prevailing choice for him is neither of those. He desperately wants to run towards Hermione and just ask her of your whereabouts.

But before he could approach a decision, Hermione made it for him. He jolts when a hand grasps his forearm, taking him by surprise.

“Nott.” Hermione begins before he cuts her off. “Where is she?”

It must’ve come off louder than he intended to from the way she jumped and the stares from the clutter of students from all directions. But he couldn’t care less, and it seemed that the girl in front of him had just now remembered when he didn't offer an apology.

“Well, it’s nice to see you’re not much different.” She sarcastically says. “Granger. Hermione. I frankly don’t have the time for this and I doubt that you do too, so I beg you to answer me now.”

Theodore’s impatience taking over him, he could not endure another moment without having you within his sight. It was a bit of an uncharacteristic burst of urgency for him and he knew it, but you were different. You, who holds all of his vulnerable entirety in your hands.

“She’s somewhere in the castle, searching for one of the remaining Horcruxes in the castle,” Hermione explains. “Y/N had suggested that we split and she began the search while we had to ward off Snape. We will be doing the same thing now, so if you have any idea of Ravenclaw’s lost diadem location, then that’s where you’ll find her.”

With a simple nod and a meek expression of gratitude, he runs off to a place where he begs must hold such a priceless object. It would be somewhere close by but nowhere that it can be easily found.

In the corner of his eyes, Theo caught a glimpse of Harry sprinting towards a distant hallway before rounding a corner. Knowing that by now he must have an idea of where it is, Theo makes a sprint for it. He cautiously peers around the hallway where he sees a door materialising in front of Harry.

Before he can approach Harry to accompany him inside the Room of Requirement, he sees the unmistakable form of his two friends, Draco and Blaise, along with Goyle, discreetly following Harry inside. He muttered frustrated curses under his breath, knowing that those three would make trouble.

He enters through the door, where he makes a dash along the stockpile of objects that seemingly never seems to lessen with every step he takes. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, but still a lingering tension persisted, as he saw Harry’s figure running.

“Potter!” He calls out to the boy, casting aside any lingering apprehension he once held for the boy. “Did you find it?”

Harry halts in his run, taking a moment to catch his breath before responding to Theo. In truth, he wasn’t surprised that Theo was here with him, but rather, more so that you weren’t the object of his first question to him.

“I think so, the sound keeps getting louder.” He answers.

“It should be somewhere near now.” He continues. “Let’s go then.”

Theo quietly takes his place beside Harry as they weave their way through the maze of ancient objects and furniture. They continue until Harry stops, causing Theo to freeze in his step.

There you stood, a presence that seemed to penetrate his very being. The only person who plagued his thoughts, you had woven yourself into every conscious moment and every corner of his mind.

Now that you were a mere five steps away from him, he couldn’t conjure the nerve to move forward, feeling himself paralyzed.

Was it the fear that held him back? The nagging thought that this might be just another dream of his? He couldn’t grapple at an answer, but by the length of your hair that now sits at your shoulders, he would like to believe that maybe this was indeed you. This was you, and before he realised it, he was all but standing still.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as you nearly lose your footing, feeling a heavy weight press to your back. The sensation of those familiar long arms enveloping you in a tight embrace sent your heart racing, the shock of it sending a rush of emotions through you.

For a fleeting moment, it felt that your body had become one with the ground, immobilised by the torrent of emotions surging through you. But then when the realisation finally sinks into you, the tension that seemed to course through you suddenly dissolves and you willingly surrender yourself to the warmth of his embrace.

You turn, your hands tracing a graceful path across his back. It had been far too long, and you couldn’t imagine being apart from him for such an extended period ever again.

The background fades into obscurity. Harry was forgotten, a distant blur that moved with the others. Your eyes filled with relief and that soft, affectionate expression that he adored. All he could see was you, the person he had yearned for and feared losing in the world you both live in.

Theo’s defences crumbled, and he finally surrendered to the weight of his emotions. He couldn’t find a part of him that would care if others saw him right now. Tears flowed freely down his flushed cheeks, like a torrential downpour.

“I’m here. Theo, I’m back with you.” Your arms held him, gently rocking him as you tried to soothe his nerves.

“Never leave me alone again.” He choked on the words, his voice raw and rugged with pain. “I beg you.”

“I won’t be going anywhere, I promise. I’m sorry for having to leave so suddenly.” You whispered, your voice filled with genuine remorse. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of movement behind some cabinets— a flash of white.

“But we’ll have to talk later.” You continued, turning your focus back to Theo. “We need to get rid of this Horcrux.”

“Horcrux?” He asks, pulling back from the crook of your neck. “Hermione mentioned that when I asked about you.”

“It’s one of the many things that Voldemort has done to ensure his immortality.” You explained, your tone carrying a sense of urgency. “But if we get rid of it, we’re one step closer to finally banishing him for good.”

He opens his mouth to say something but before he can, he is interrupted by Draco, with Blaise and Goyle, stepping into view. “Well, well, what brings you here, Potter? And Theo, what are you doing with them?”

Your gaze shifts back at Harry who had only realised that you had some other company. “I could ask you the same.” You retort.

Theo, however, pays his friend no mind. Instead, he leans to your ear, his voice a hushed whisper. “We should get that thing while Draco is still preoccupied with Harry.”

You could make a run for it; it seemed that Draco didn’t care for your purpose inside the room. Rather busy demanding your friend for his wand back, the very one you had accidentally brought back with you from the Malfoy Manor.

“- its allegiance is to me now. If you want it, you’ll have to win it back. Perhaps even kill me…” You hear Harry proclaim. You silently curse your friend for his recklessness, tired of his cavalier attitude with his life simply because he’s braved the risk of death before. You kept your eyes trained on Draco, knowing that despite his hesitation before, he might act on it now.

His wand hand twitches.

Brow conflicted.

Uneasy eyes settling somewhere behind you. You look behind to see a silhouette of a girl with a wand pointed in your direction, before you can see who it is, a ball of scarlet light emerges and briefly lights up her face and hits Draco’s hand.

“Avada Kedavra!” You were pulled back by Theo, landing on the ground with his body catching the fall. You watch as the spell ricochets and sends the diadem, which was sitting peacefully in its encasement on the table, flying away.

You spring to your feet, a burst of adrenaline propelling you forward to catch the item before it vanishes on you in this labyrinth. Your hand barely grazed the edge of the jewelled headband and with a quick nod to Harry and Hermione a nod to escape this room. Meanwhile, you’re confused as to where Ron had disappeared off to.

The red-head gives you your answer when he comes running from somewhere followed by a twisting serpent made of scarlet flames. “Run! Goyle’s set the bloody place on fire!”

With your right hand clutching the crown, you secure a firm grip on Theo’s hand, which rests lightly on your waist. The five of you dash through the towering heaps of debris that would likely be a pile of smouldering ashes and soot. A quick glance behind you reveals flames that draw closer, mutating into different forms: serpents, dragons, and the like, each following you so closely that sweat beads form on the nape of your neck.

“Keep running!” Harry shouts when Hermione sees Draco scaling a mountain of furniture. You were still running for your life when suddenly Harry spots a stack of broomsticks. TO which you all took one and began to speed across the room.

The flames explode behind you, You and Theo, who decided to share, barely elude the snap of its jaw.

“Wait! What about Malfoy and Blaise!” Harry screams at the rest of you, your head turns to look back at the two who are barely hanging on as the flames continue to destroy the room. It was only a matter of time before it reached them and they would have nowhere to go.

“You grab them!” Theo replied, his voice scratchy and painful from the amount of smoke you’ve inhaled.

“Are you serious? He’s joking right?” Ron asks Hermione, to which you instead reply. “No, he’s not! Go get them!”

Harry and Ron sweeps down, swiftly reaching out to grasp Draco and Blaise’s outstretched hands. While you, Theo, and Hermione went ahead as a giant beam of light appeared in the distance, a radiating beacon. It’s Hermione, hovering on her broom with her wand raised.

Then, with Harry and Ron in tow, you all fly headlong towards Hermione’s beacon. And in an instant, your sight dissolved into a blinding whiteness.

Your eyes flutter open, your senses returning to you in a hazy rush. You felt someone shaking you furiously, and in your disoriented state, you instinctively pushed them away. But arms instead wrapped around you and pulled you into a warm chest.

“You’re fine!” The person evidently shakes in relief, before you feel a gentle bush of lips against your temple.

Blinking away the remnants of confusion, you look up to see Theo’s striking blue eyes already intently focused on you., striking a shiver across your spine “You couldn’t get rid of me that easily.” You joked weakly, a tiny smile on your face.

Theo’s expression softened, and he tightened his hold on you as if he was afraid that you might disappear again. “I thought I lost you there,” He tells you, voice barely above a whisper. “When I saw you just lying there, unmoving… I was utterly terrified.”

You reach up and gently cup his cheek, wiping away the dark ash that sullied it with your thumb. “Like I said, love, I’m not going anywhere,” Your voice filled with reassurance, and you sit properly to kiss him softly, sealing your promise in that tender moment.

But as with everything else, it was interrupted by an awkward cough behind you.

“You guys done there? We still have some things to do?” Ron retorts. To which Hermione slaps him in the chest.

You laugh and hum in tease. “Well, actually I think we could do with some more snogging here.” Ron merely groans. “No, please. I don’t wanna see that.”

The both of you stand from where you sit, your hands still entwined, hearts racing. “Where’s Draco and Blaise, by the way?” You ask Theo. “They ran off somewhere.”

As they all stepped out of the corridor, they caught you up on what happened while you were unconscious. Harry had stabbed the diadem with a basilisk fang which Ron and Hermione retrieved from the Chamber and threw it back towards the Room of Requirement where it blew up into flames.

You look at Harry who was staring into the distance, his face still bearing the trace of the agony he must’ve endured when he stabbed the diadem.

“It’s the snake. She’s the last one. The last Horcrux.” Harry speaks up.

“Where do you think he’ll take it?” Theo asks from beside you. “Somewhere safe. He’ll be keeping her close to him.”

“You should go ahead, Theo and I will stay here to help with the others.” You tell your friends, while Harry tries to locate Voldemort with his mind.

“I know where he is.” He finally comes back. “Let’s go.”

“The three of you keep safe alright?” You remind them as you all run towards the battlefield, where many of your friends stand fighting. They nod, promising you that they will and in return make you and Theo swear you’ll be careful.

In the courtyard, where students and staff trade spells with the Death Eaters that littered across the school grounds, you quickly join them, making sure that you are in sight of the other. The unspoken promise to do so served as a beacon of comfort amidst the chaos you were faced with.

From the upper balcony, your eyes scanned the battlefield, assessing the danger that lurked when you saw a Death Eater poised to send a curse to Luna from behind. Without a second thought, you unleashed a forceful flick of your wand, sending a powerful spell toward the Death Eater which sent him tumbling through the air and straight to the waters beyond the castle.

Luna, whose signature dream-like demeanour was replaced by an expression of gratitude, turns and locks eyes with you. She offered you one of her wide smiles, “Thanks! Y/n, glad to see you back here!”

Your heart swelled with warmth for your friend. “Don’t mention it, happy to see you also, Luna.” You quickly reply before returning to battle when you are hit by a deafening blast straight on the chest. You were raised to the air before you crashed into the floor below.

Theodore Nott fought valiantly in the courtyard, proving to the others that the dark mark that covered his right arm bore no significance to the man. His wand moved in a blur of motion in the onslaught of Death Eater. His thoughts were empty save for the ever-present worry that plagued him for your safety.

From his vantage point on the ground level, he does a quick scan of the courtyard, his heart pounding in his chest. The grisly sight of students and friends, along with the staff all stood their ground against the dark forces that dared penetrate their home. It filled him with a mixture of pride and fear.

And then, his eyes flicked onto a scene that made his heart skip a beat. From the upper balcony, he sees you with your wand in hand and your expression resolute as you defend Luna, a dear friend of yours. It filled him with a warm emotion at the sight of your strong determination to protect her.

But then in a blink of an eye, disaster struck. A blast struck you square in the chest, lifting you off your feet in shock and sending you crashing down. Theo’s heart which skipped a beat earlier had now wholly stopped, his blood turning to ice as he watched in horror.

With everything in him, he surges forward through the chaos to catch you before you fall down. But as he was still many steps away from you, you dropped full force into the stone ground. Panic fueled his every step as he ran towards your motionless form now with even more speed than he ever thought a human possibly could.

He feels his gut twinge at the bloody sight, a sickly feeling developing in the deep recesses of his body, the wand heavy in his hands then. His lips bore no sound as tried to call your name, his heart was twisted in his throat.

He knelt beside you, pulling you into his lap and checking you for your injuries. To his relief, your breathing was still steady for what had just happened to you and you didn’t seem to take any damage to the head, Still, he carried your disoriented body in his arms bridal style.

As he began to stand, his eyes went back to where you had previously been, searching for the source of the blast that struck you down. And then, with a shock that sent chills down his spine, he sees a familiar old face.

His father.

He sets you down somewhere safe inside the castle, without taking his sight away from his father. By the time he returns back to where you both were, his father is now advancing towards him with a sinister, triumphant grin on his face. It was a face that had been both a source of fear and disappointment throughout his life.

The face that caused his mother’s death.

“Father,” Theodore muttered, his voice laced with a blend of anger, disbelief, and a profound sense of betrayal. That despite all he’s done for him, his father still stood there with not an ounce of recognition that he was faced with his son. It was as if he had truly sunk to the depths of his loyalty to Voldemort and there was no other obligation for him except for his unwavering loyalty.

Their eyes were locked in a moment of tense, silent confrontation. He knew that this battle was only physical but also a battle of his loyalties. He had to protect you, he had to stand against his father, and he had to make a choice that would define the course of his life.

With the courtyard around them paying no specific attention to the father and son, it was only fair to say that everything else faded into the background for them too. Father and son. Standing on opposing sides, driven by their own convictions and beliefs, the younger no longer waited.

He was no, father, not in the true sense of the word. He was merely a shadow of a man, a heartless figure who stood there—grinning as if he had just claimed the grand prize in this twisted lottery.

In that moment, he had not only attacked the one person who held his son’s heart after he took away the other one but he had also torn away the last remaining fragments of the bond that tied the two of them.

His father had no time to react when Theodore raised his wand in a swift manner, hurling him violently to the cold, unforgiving wall across the castle. He rained down curses after cruses upon his father’s assailable body, each blow driven by a potent combination of anger and a fierce desire to defend.

“Stay” He seethed, punctuating his rage with a curse. “Away” Another spell. “From” The onslaught of his attack never ceased despite the dawn that slowly began to fade into view. “Her!” Each word carried the weight of an entire lifetime’s amount of hurt as Theo relentlessly battered his father until he was left into nothing but a fraction of what he used to be.

His eyes are glazed and unfocused as he continues this torture until he comes to a grip on reality when strong arms pull him away. It takes him a moment to realise that the battle has ceased.

The two people behind him dragged him away, from his father's still body. But still, his eyes remained locked onto him, unable to shift it away. The cold fire in him terrified the others that they had passed. They whispered that nothing could compare to the kind of fury and destruction that he was sure to rain upon his enemies.

“Wake up, Y/N. Please.” Theo’s voice quivered, his words trembling on the precipice of his emotions. His eyes, blurred by the veil of his tears, bore a weight drastically different than it did only hours ago.

Eyes that failed to veil the inner turmoil that plagued him. The entire battle against Voldemort had taken its toll on both of them, leaving them stranded from each other for nearly half a year, but seeing you this way…

He watched from a chair beside you as the healers worked diligently, silently begging them to look at you again, despite numerous assurances that you are now stable. His fingers unconsciously flexed at his sides, a manifestation of the anxiety that controls him.

The fear of losing you, the anger towards his father, the overwhelming relief that you are alive– it all left him in a state of disconcerting.

As he waits for you to wake, he couldn’t help but reminisce on all that the both of you had been through. The trials, the secrets, the moments of love and laughter everywhere and anywhere. You were not just some person he loved; you were his best friend, his reason.

His eyes welled up with tears, and he wiped them away hastily. He needs to be strong for both of you, just as you will in your state of unconsciousness. He knew that your love had emerged stronger than ever in this crucible of war. So he made a silent promise to himself that he would do whatever it takes to take you away from any danger that dares creep upon you.

Finally, as if an eternity had passed, your voice broke through the silence. He jumps up in shock at the sound. You had slowly begun to stir in your makeshift bed in the Great Hall, your eyelids fluttering as you emerged from the depths of unconsciousness. The world felt hazy at first. But as your senses gradually returned, you became aware of the hustle and bustle of the people around you and you tried to call attention.

Theo sees that you were trying to say something but from the scratchy tone that instead came out, you were in need of some water so he ran to the nearest jug he found and helped you sit up so you could properly drink.

Then, as your vision cleared, you saw Theo sitting by your bedside and that he was the one that quenched the dryness that lined your throat., his eyes locked onto hers with a mixture of relief and worry.

His face broke into a gentle smile as he saw you recognize him. “Y/N” He whispered, his voice cracking as he began to cry once more. “You’re awake, you’re back. Thank Merlin!”

You manage a weak smile in return, your throat still dry and your body aching from the attack on you. You tried to speak, but your voice came out raspy. “Theo.”

Theo reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from the side of your face, his touch gentle as ever. “You’re going to be okay.” He says, but it was more like he was also trying to convince himself. “You had me worried there for a while. I am this close to tying you up in a chair because you have caused me nothing but stress lately.”

As the both of you lay on the bed after you guilted him into laying beside you, your memories of the battle and the moments leading up to your injury slowly came back. You remembered Luna, the chaos, and the deafening blast that nearly took you away. But most of all, you remember the face of the person who did this to you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to hold his hand, your fingers entwined in a silent, unspoken connection. “You must have been like a hero back there, then?” You gently try to ask him.

“More like a monster.” He mutters, unable to bring his eyes to you. The truth is he felt horrible after he finally calmed down. He was disgusted with himself and how he acted. He let his rage take control and acted like a monster. “What do you mean?”

“I was just like him, leaving him unable to fight back like he did to Mom and I back then. I just fired curses and curses at him. It was like a veil had draped over me and all I wanted was to protect you and destroy anything and anyone that dared harm you. ”

You call his name. But he doesn’t respond and continues to stare off into the distance with a glazed-over expression. You reach out to cup his cheeks to pull his gaze towards you. “Theodore, look at me.”

He hums, now staring at you but still he can’t hide the tumultuous emotions that were a storm inside him. “You are not like your father, Theo.” You said softly. “Just from what you told me, you are a gazillion ways different from him. You didn’t cower behind the fear he caused you. Instead, you faced him head on, and defended not only me but also your mother from his cruelty.”

Theo looks at you, his eyes searching yours for affirmation. “How?” He meekly asks.

“You took away the power that he boasts to have over you. '' You replied. Tone unwavering. “You showed him that you will never, ever, become anything like he is."

Your words hung in the air, a testament to Theo’s strength. At that moment, he realised that he had broken free from the shadows of his father’s influence and that he had chosen a different path. A path that is defined by love, courage, and a refusal to be controlled by his fear.

“I’m here because of you. I strived each day so that I could go back to you.” You whispered, your gaze never leaving Theo’s. “And I'm not going anywhere.”

Theo’s eyes shimmered with tears as he leaned in to gently kiss your forehead. “I love you.” He murmured, “I am in love with you, physically, rhetorically, every -ly.”

You laugh at his cheekiness, “I love you too.” You close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to drown in the wave of his love that washed over you. Giving his hands a squeeze as you raise them to lay a kiss upon the back of his hand.

In that Great Hall, amidst the scars of battle and the uncertainty of the future, they had found something precious in the very same place where two 11-year-old kids once locked eyes and found a connection.

masterlist

#harry potter #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott angst #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #slytherin #theodore nott oneshot

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syoddeye · 6 days ago

Text

by some miracle, you nab the last campsite. the online reservation system is spotty, but you submit the form, pay the fee, and receive a confirmation.

the trip is a bright spot at the end of a long tunnel. something to look forward to.

so, of course, it rains.

you drive through a downpour that starts as soon as you leave the city limits.

the rain falls in sheets, rendering the windshield wipers near useless, their frantic motion only barely carving out the view ahead. you grip the wheel like a lifeline, feeling your car lean with each curve of the road, the faintest slip of the tires against wet pavement sending a tremor through your arms.

the trees on either side are shapeless blobs, their trunks blurred by the water streaming down the glass. your focus narrows on the lines and the rhythmic drumming of rain that drowns out everything else.

you just need to get there in one piece and wait it out. you will leaf peep. you will hike. you will cuddle up with your sleeping bag and quilt and finish a goddamn book for once. you need this weekend to relax.

however, there's a small crowd when you reach the park and stop at the ranger station to check-in. you're told that, unfortunately, the lower-lying campsites are currently washed out. there's no immediate danger, but folks who reserved spots in that section are out of luck.

some deal with the news better than others. families make alternative arrangements or turn around to head home. some take it out on the rangers, their conversations unfair and heated. you?

you mirror the weather outside. as you sink into a chair, big, hot tears roll down your cheeks. it took you three and a half hours to get here. you left right after a long day of work. you're tired and upset, and now you have to drive back home, back through the storm, and the sun is on its way down.

"you alright?"

you lift your head at the deep, charred voice of a man and find a pair of eyes the color of cloudburst staring down at you.

"what am i sayin, 'course not. your campsite’s flooded, right?"

the man crouches in front of you, draping two thick, forearms bulging the sleeves of a rain-soaked anorak over his knees for balance. his mouth twitches into an easy smile under a mustache, though it's the mutton chops that draw your gaze. old-fashioned. kind of giving off a rugged, mountain man vibe.

he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, and offers it. “name’s john.”

"yeah," you rasp, then clear your throat, compelled to fix your posture by john’s attention alone. you pluck the flannel square from his hand, and dab your tears away. "yes. you too?"

he shakes his head. "no. reserved one of the cabins up in the hills.”

you resist the urge to wrinkle your nose at that. despite being rustic and bare-bones, the cabins cost ten times more than the regular tent or car camping spots. out of your budget. unkindly, you think, must be nice.

"oh. lucky you." you sniffle, wiping the last of your tears with a thumb. "well. i should hit the road before it gets too dark..."

as you stand, he rises. you're closer than you ought to be, and catch a whiff of tobacco and benzoin. rain. he's tall enough that you need to crane your neck. heat gathers in the hollow of your throat when you notice the flecks gray in his beard and hair. you swallow, internal conflict erupting in your brain. he's handsome, yeah, but he's a complete stranger in your personal space.

to your pleasant surprise, john seems to register whatever uncertainty shows on your face and takes a big step back. he scratches his cheek. "listen, miss…?”

you blink, supplying your name after a delay.

he repeats it, the corner of his mouth lifting in a cautious smile. “i'm visitin' for the weekend and the cabin's got a spare room, if you need some shuteye before headin' home."

you hesitate, eyes narrowing.

"there is, honest. just thought i'd offer. you wouldn't have to pay me."

"free and out of the goodness of your heart? why me? why not someone else? a couple or a family?"

john follows your glance around the station, lingering on the remaining groups you pointed out. he shakes his head.

"the second room's too small for some parents and their kids. and i'm not inclined to invite a...couple, as i'd like to have a quiet and restful weekend. and if you insist, you can pay half"

his tone cracks your resolve. makes you smile. almost. you study him closely, briefly, as he looks around the room again. the beard's memorable and if he's rented the cabin, the rangers should have his information and a card on file. you have a folding knife and bear mace. and you really don't want to drive with the current conditions outside.

"...okay, john. i'll take the room," you begin, heart thudding when he meets your eye. "but i'm going to check in with the rangers. i'm sure you understand."

his face splits with a grin. "of course. smart girl."

the ranger you speak to gives you a long look when you explain the situation. you get the feeling they’re not supposed to let campers double up without paying the proper fee, but they’re just as tired as you. after taking down your information and confirming his, you join john at the entrance.

you follow his truck up a series of hills, and park behind him. you expect him to dash to the cabin door, but you find him at your door instead. you don’t have much, just a backpack and a carry-all, but he yanks both from the backseat and carries them to the porch. no time to argue. too loud with the rain, anyway.

by the time you’re indoors, you’re both soaked to the bone. he shrugs off your thanks.

“here it is.” he announces as he leads you to the second room.

like the rest of the cabin, it’s spartan but functional. better than trying to stake a tent in mud, that’s for sure. when he leaves you to it, you check the deadbolt attached to the door and sigh in relief. this might just work.

you unroll and unzip your sleeping bag over the plastic mattress, and spread your quilt out over the top. you’re stuck using a lumpy folded sweatshirt for a pillow, but you can’t complain. the storm outside rages on, and a handsome stranger’s taken you in for the night.

john checks in once before he turns in, after which you lock the door. sleep comes easier than you thought it would, reality feeding fantasy as you drift off.

in the morning, you emerge well-rested, but still undecided as to whether or not you’ll stick around for the rest of the weekend.

the smell of smoke hits and lures you to the cabin’s door. beyond, john sits with his back to the structure, poking at a fire with one hand and cradles a book in the other. a pot and pan sit atop a rack.

“morning.” you greet politely, stomach rumbling at the sight of bacon and eggs cooking over the open flame. a torturous viewing with half of a protein bar in hand. your boots squelch in a patch of mud, the ground absolutely saturated from the rain.

“morning.” john replies. “sleep alright?”

“yes, thank you. i don’t know if i would’ve made it if i drove last night.”

he makes a contemplative noise at that.

you chew your poor excuse for a meal and steal a glance at his book. it’s a local birding guide. you suppress a smile, amused. you always thought birding was a hobby for old folks.

you take another forced bite, wondering if it’s even worth to trekking to a trailhead. chances are more than one’s washed out.

“care for a little more sustenance?”

“oh, no, thank you. you’ve done enough.”

john clicks his tongue and sets his book aside to pull the cast iron from the flame. “i insist. gonna need the energy to hike.” he shovels a fried egg and slice of bacon onto a steel plate, then reaches for a matching cup. “coffee?”

“oh—you don’t need to—okay.” you try to protest, but he hands you the meal without waiting for an answer. you abandon the protein bar on the edge of the plate. “i don’t know if i’m going to hike.”

“no? you gonna hit the road?”

“haven’t decided that either.”

john nods. “well, my offer’s good all weekend. i don’t mind company.”

“so long as your time’s quiet and restful?”

he grins. “correct.”

conversation flows easier than you thought it would, given the semi-awkward circumstances. you learn he’s ex-military. retired. that he’s roadtripping the country until he hits snow, then heading south to visit friends. he likes cigars, bourbon, and birds. the latter being a recent development.

“why birding?”

“doc said it’d help with stress. counteract my vices.”

you take a bite of bacon, gesticulating with the rest. “makes sense. see anything neat?”

“a couple of grebe, some heron.”

“anything particularly rare?”

he doesn’t answer for a beat, leading you to glance his way. your eyebrows lift when you catch him staring, and push higher when he stammers. he clears his throat hard and slams his fist hard into his chest with a cough.

“maybe. can’t be sure. still learnin’ how to spot them.”

the tips of his ears match the tanager you spot in the trees.

(john misses it.)

#this is somewhat based on a true story. but the stranger i met was not john price. :/#and it was nowhere near as flirty #price x reader #what is this? an unedited thing about price and camping and birds #there is no ending because i am posting from bed and exhausted!#alcohol mention

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luveline · 9 months ago

Note

what abouttttt

zombie!steve and reader (at any point tho i feel like this would make sense after the college got attacked) are like scavenging in a pharmacy and steve wanting to make his girl laugh puts on the stupidest prescription glasses that he found near the front desk but then? reader comes over and hes like have you always had that mole? and he refuses to take them off even tho theyre far sighted which makes the trek back to camp slightly unsafe but he cant stop staring at readers face because hes never seen it so clear

thank you for your request<3

“I really need some chocolate,” you lament, pulling at his hand as you drift together down the aisle toward the snack section. “If they don’t have any, I’m going to kill myself.”

“You better kill me first.” Steve pulls you back. “Seriously. Have the decency.”

“Find me some candy and I won’t have to.”

“Find yourself some candy, loser. I need some painkillers. I’m sick of dealing with you.”

You push at his arm. He resists the urge to yank you in for a kiss, letting your hand drop to part ways at the top of the aisle. He makes for the back of the store where the in-store pharmacy signs hangs half off of the wall, green glass shattered like coarse sugar grains underfoot. Steve cringes, clearing a path to the desk with the side of his shoe.

“You okay?” you call from a few feet away, unseen but close enough to be heard clearly.

“Fine! Signs of candy?”

“No,” you say dejectedly. He nearly misses it.

Steve’ll find you some chocolate if it’s the last thing he does, but first, he needs painkillers. His knee aches like he’s been beaten, a funny burning string of pain lining the underside of his leg every other step. Ideally he’d like some codeine, but more realistically he wants advil. He doesn’t know where to start, never does, but if you come over he’ll pretend he understands what things go where.

He’s lucky. He bends down and finds a bottle of motrin on the floor, looking up to find a shelf teeming with it. “Yes,” he says, ecstatic. Things rarely ever go so obviously his way. “Fucking yes.”

He shoves as many bottles of tylenol in his various pockets as he can. Then he looks around for anything interesting. He’s sure there’s a ton of things you could benefit from. He’s been wondering about epi-pens and emergency precautions, because god forbid something happen to you he couldn’t correct. Love makes him worry. You’re worrisome, you’re so sad lately, he knows you’re a few days from another burnout. He can’t handle it —he’ll take care of you, but seeing you down for the count hurts every single time.

He leans heavily on the counter and lets himself think. Absent-minded, he reaches out to spin the intact rungs of a glasses stand, prescription lenses shining against the glare of the sun seeping in from the store’s caved metal roof. “Plus two,” he says to himself, “plus three, what?” He grabs an obscene pair and shoves it up his nose, blinking in surprise at the way his vision blurs.

He turns the display to the mirrored back and grins.

“Hey, loser? You okay?” he calls.

You don’t answer.

“Babe?” he says sharply.

“Oh, you’re talking to me?”

“That’s not funny.”

You appear at the end of the aisle with an arm full of chips, less blurry the closer you get. “Sorry. Don’t call me loser then. Oh, gosh, what are you wearing?”

“Gosh,” he mimics with a laugh. “I’ve no idea.”

His poor attempt at a southern accent makes you laugh too. “Nice glasses, Harrington. I didn’t know you needed them.” Steve crossed his arms in front of him. You drop the chips beside his sleeve and station yourself as he had, a mirror, your smile charmed as you push the glasses up his nose. “You look ridiculous. Here,” —you take a nicer pair from the rack and open the legs— “swap them.”

He would, but he’s looking at you, and he’s thinking, What?

You move your head away from him instinctively, but ultimately let him hold your face, his thumb on the hill of your chin, fingers curled over your cheek. He can see the little silver scars of a cruel hand around your mouth, and the cut on your cheek from a surprising wooden beam, but what he’s never noticed is the pigmentation under your mouth. The little wrinkles by your eyes. Hell, he’s never realised your eyelashes looked quite like that until now.

“Hey–” he starts, though you’re already ducking your chin. “Wait–”

“Stop, you’re staring.”

“Yeah, I’m staring. You always had that freckle?”

“Long as I can remember.”

“Wait,” he pleads, trying to grab your chin as you step away.

“I need chocolate, Steve, I’m not kidding. You can do whatever you want to me if you help me find some.”

“You will come to love that decision very soon.”

You giggle like crazy. Steve swaps the less attractive glasses for the ones you’ve recommended and follows you down the aisle to help you look for your sugar fix. He nearly trips over a split can of condensed milk, and you might act like you don’t like him, but you catch him by the arm and allow him to hold on.

He isn’t great at helping you look, but he finds a couple of bars of cooking chocolate in the baking essentials aisle and decides it’s good enough to head home with. You eat lines of it as you walk, your fingers pressed between Steve’s, a little dab of chocolate he wouldn’t have noticed otherwise in the corner of your lips.

“You sure you don’t want some?” you ask between bites.

He’s gonna watch you eat the whole thing. “No thanks. I’m saving room for Robin’s artichoke heart and refried bean combo.”

“Would you take those off?” Your cheek twitches as you smile. Your eyes glow with affection. “You can barely walk.”

“You don’t like them?”

“They really, really suit you, actually. I love them,” you say, to his secret delight.

“So what’s the problem?”

He trips over his own feet and has to grab your arm to stop from falling. “That’s the problem,” you say, in love enough to smile even when the world has gone to shit for you a thousand times. Your eyes follow down his nose to his lips.

Steve grins and ducks forward for a kiss. “Oh, sorry,” he says when the glasses bump your nose.

You laugh and touch under his chin to help him out. You taste like chocolate still as he kisses against the seam of your lips, a quick but blissfully deep kiss, a handful of seconds where Steve feels like you’re one in the same before he pulls away, just enough to see both of your eyes.

“What’re you looking at?” you ask.

“You have chocolate on your nose,” he lies. “Want me to get it?”

“Yes,” you say bashfully.

He kisses the tip of your nose, then the corner of your lip.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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yeosanitycheck · 29 days ago

Note

can you please write a first date with ateez members😽🥺

ofc!! i hope you like this. i tried to include a good amt of detail for each member w/o being too wordy :)

first date with ateez!

*pairing: ateez x reader

*warnings!: none, this is pure fluff

*a/n: i love doing requests sm!! im open to anything :)

Hongjoong 🌶️

art gallery and vinyl store:

Hongjoong gives off that art gallery and vinyl store vibe. He takes you to a cozy, intimate art gallery, where he’s genuinely curious about what each piece means to you. As you wander through, he leads you to an abstract painting with deep blues and warm golds, and his gaze lingers on it for a moment. Finally, he looks over at you with a curious smile, eyes sparkling with thought.

“It’s strange…” he begins, studying the piece. “This one makes me think of a dream I had—but it’s hard to put into words. It’s like the artist left us a clue.” For a moment, he’s lost in the painting and the quiet of the gallery. The evening feels weighty in the best way, and you sense he’s simply happy to share this space with you. He gestures around thoughtfully. “We should come to more galleries, you know. I think we’d get along well with the art,” he muses, voice soft but earnest.

After the gallery, he takes you to his favorite vinyl store, his face lighting up as he flips through stacks of records, each album cover like a piece of art in itself. He’s in his element. “I have to play you this one!” he says, pulling out an album with a cover of swirling colors. “It’s got this dreamy guitar that just…feels like a night drive.” He slides a record into the listening station, placing one headphone on his ear and offering you the other. “Close your eyes,” he whispers.

As the music begins, you’re immersed in a warm, dreamy atmosphere. Hongjoong sits quietly beside you, letting the sound wrap around both of you, and when the song ends, he smiles, more to himself than to anyone else. “It’s timeless,” he says, voice almost a whisper. Leaving the store, he glances at you, brushing his hand through his hair, looking thoughtful. “Next time, I’ll make you a mix of songs like that. For drives, late nights…for whatever moments we want to make ours.”

---

Seonghwa 🧚

the picnic type (outside of legos ofc):

Seonghwa strikes you as the type who appreciates quiet beauty. He takes you to a peaceful hill just outside the city, where he’s prepared a stargazing setup with cozy blankets, soft pillows, and a thermos of hot cocoa for warmth. The sun is just beginning to set as you both settle in, and he starts pointing out constellations, his voice calm under the deepening twilight.

“I wanted to find a spot where we could see the stars clearly, and where it would just be us,” he says, a subtle smile playing on his lips. He pulls out a small telescope and carefully adjusts it, pointing to a bright star. “See that? That’s Vega—one of the brightest stars,” he explains, eyes lighting up. “They say it symbolizes harmony and balance. So pretty.”

He shifts his gaze to meet yours, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “If we could be like those stars, maybe our story would be worth telling too,” he murmurs, his eyes reflecting a bit of the starlight. Moving closer, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze so intense you can feel the warmth radiating from him. “You’re the personification of Vega, bringing balance and light…something I didn’t realize I needed,” he admits. The silence that follows is comfortable, and as he gazes at you, his voice softens, almost reverent. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this view.”

---

Yunho ☂️

fun, amusement park kind of man!:

Yunho radiates fun and adventure, which is why he chooses the amusement park for your first date. From the moment you arrive, his excitement is infectious. His eyes gleam as he takes in the lights, rides, and sounds of laughter, and without hesitation, he grabs your hand. “Let’s do everything! The roller coaster first. Trust me, we’re about to have the best time.”

On the roller coaster, Yunho’s excitement morphs into thrill as he laughs and screams, his eyes wide with exhilaration. When you finally get off, he leans against the railing, catching his breath with a grin. “Next time, I’ll keep it cool and calm, I swear. But first…” he says, eyeing a booth with stuffed animals. “I’m winning you the biggest one here!”

Determined, he attempts the game multiple times before finally winning a massive plush dog. With a triumphant grin, he holds it up to you like a trophy. “Told you I’d get it,” he laughs, handing it over with a playful wink. As the day goes on, you ride more rides and play more games, and as the sun begins to set, he stops to take in the vibrant lights illuminating the park, a content look on his face.

“I want to remember today like this. Just us, being silly and enjoying each moment,” he says softly. After a moment, he grins, nudging you playfully. “Next time, maybe we’ll try something even more thrilling. How does skydiving sound?”

---

Yeosang🪽

the garden boy:

As you step into the botanical garden, the colors and scents of flowers envelop you both, transforming the air into a fragrant embrace. Yeosang seems to come alive in this vibrant setting, walking slowly and soaking in every detail with a childlike wonder. He stops frequently, admiring a particular flower, his fingers brushing gently against the delicate petals as if to connect with their beauty.

“Look at this one; it’s so vibrant. I’ve never seen such a shade of red before,” he exclaims, pulling out his phone to capture the moment with an artistic eye. He snaps photos, each shot a testament to his creativity, and then turns to you, his expression soft and thoughtful.

“Sometimes I feel like nature can express feelings we can’t put into words. Gardens are so peaceful to me,” he muses, leaning against a nearby tree to admire you with a gentle smile. In this moment, he’s not just appreciating nature; he’s savoring your presence as if you were the most beautiful flower in the garden.

“If I could, I’d spend every day here, just us and the beauty around us… creating our own little world,” he says, the sincerity in his voice making your heart flutter. He carefully plucks a delicate flower, twirling it between his fingers before holding it out to you with a shy grin.

“Here, something to remember today by,” he offers, his shy demeanor revealing his affection. As you walk together, the tranquility of the garden reflects in his eyes. He feels incredibly lucky to share this serene moment with you, and his admiration shines through. “This day… it feels special. The perfect moment captured in time with you,” he whispers, his love language evident in his words of affirmation and the little gestures that express his affection.

---

San🗻

Pet cafe seemed the most appropriate for him:

The moment you step into the pet cafe, San’s excitement is palpable, radiating joy as he practically skips towards the kittens and puppies. His laughter fills the air as a fluffy puppy bounds over, tail wagging furiously. He kneels down, scooping it into his arms, his face lighting up with sheer delight.

“He’s the cutest puppy!” he exclaims, stroking the puppy’s soft fur while it licks his cheek, making you smile at the warmth in his heart. As you watch him interact with the animals, you notice how effortlessly his joy spreads to everyone around.

“You know, I’ve always believed that animals can sense good hearts. They seem to like you a lot… just like I do,” he says, glancing at you with genuine warmth. It’s a sweet reminder of the connection you both share, and his words are laced with sincerity, affirming your place somewhere in his mind and heart.

As you both move to a corner filled with treats, he holds a tiny biscuit out for a waiting puppy. “Woo, this is your moment to shine!” he laughs as the puppy eagerly takes the treat from his hand. Watching him share his joy with the animals, you can’t help but admire how he brings out the best in everyone.

“I could spend all day here with you and these little animals. You guys just make the day more worth it,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you both settle on the floor, surrounded by playful furballs.

---

Mingi🩰

Nighttime vibes—def an outdoor movie type:

Mingi leads you to a local park where an outdoor movie is screening classic films. He sets up a cozy spot on the grass with blankets and snacks, the anticipation buzzing in the air as you settle in together. Leaning back on his hands, he intertwines his fingers with yours, his playful eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Alright! Let’s see how bad this movie really is. Couldn’t do a scary one for obvious reasons,” he quips, the sound of his laughter blending with the chirping of crickets. As the film begins, he leans closer, whispering witty commentary and shaking his head dramatically whenever a character makes a ridiculous decision.

“Did they really think that was a good idea? Who jumps into a dark alley like that? I mean, I would definitely jump in if you were there, but that’s beside the point,” he jokes, his words laced with affection as he playfully nudges you. Each laugh shared draws you closer, creating a tapestry of moments that feels magical.

When the film ends, he pulls you into a quieter area of the park, where the rustling leaves and distant laughter create a serene backdrop. The moonlight casts a gentle glow on his face as he glances at you, longing evident in his eyes. “You know, I really like this. Just sharing our thoughts and debating silly stuff… it’s perfect to me,” he admits, his vulnerability showing as he leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours.

This moment feels timeless, and as he pulls you in for a soft kiss under the stars, you know this is just the beginning of something beautiful.

---

Wooyoung👹

Man loves to cook—cooking class!:

You and Wooyoung arrive at a bustling cooking studio, the delicious aroma of fresh herbs and sizzling garlic enveloping you both. He rolls up his sleeves with enthusiasm, helping you tie your apron while shooting you a cheeky grin.

“I’m winning over your taste buds tonight,” he declares, confidence radiating from him as he dives into the cooking process. As the instructor guides you through each step, Wooyoung can’t resist adding his own flair, chopping ingredients with exaggerated precision, and shooting playful winks whenever he catches your eye.

When he accidentally adds a bit too much chili to the sauce, he winces but laughs it off. “I hope you like a little heat. You’ll just have to handle the spice,” he teases, the playful banter making your heart race. As you taste your creations, he leans in, watching your reaction with eager anticipation.

“Good, right?! I’m thinking about starting my own restaurant. You could be my official taste tester,” he grins, and you can’t help but smile at the thought. His passion for cooking and your presence fuels his excitement, creating a bond that feels warm and genuine.

As the class winds down, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, a satisfied smile on his face. “Tonight was perfect, and next time, I’m making you my special dessert. No recipe needed!” His words echo with promise.

---

Jongho🧸

He’s built, likes activity—rock climbing:

Jongho takes you to an indoor rock climbing gym, where excitement dances in the air. As he gears up, his eyes sparkle with enthusiasm. He hands you a harness, carefully helping with the buckles and straps, his warm touch sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “Think you’re ready for this? I’ll go easy on you… maybe,” he teases, a playful smile gracing his lips.

As he starts climbing with natural ease, he glances back to offer advice, his calm confidence a reassuring presence. When you hesitate on a difficult spot, he looks down at you, his smile unwavering. “Just take your time. Find your balance… trust yourself,” he encourages, his voice steady and filled with belief in your abilities.

When you finally reach the top, his approving smile lights up the room, and he gives you a soft high five, pride shining in his gaze. “Feels good to push the limits with you! It’s freeing,” he says, sitting beside you as you both take in the breathtaking view. The city lights twinkle below, mirroring the spark in his eyes.

As you catch your breath, he watches you with admiration. “You did great. Next time, let’s try the real thing. There’s a spot outside the city I think you’d love,” he suggests, his eagerness palpable. The promise of future adventures together makes your heart flutter, knowing that every challenge you face will only bring you closer.

---

#ateez ot8 #kpop x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #hongjoong x reader #jongho x reader #mingi x reader #san x reader #ateez x reader #yeosang x reader #yunho x reader #seonghwa x reader #wooyoung x reader

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forensicated · 6 months ago

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The buildings opposite the old station on the corner of Artichoke Hill and Pennington Street in London haven't changed too much other than a grey extension on top of one. They could be the same windows! The streets behind it too are also very similar and don't appear to have changed that much

The old station itself has however completely changed(!!)

The building behind it seems to be pretty much the same though, still has the balcony on the top floor with the metal rail above the small brick wall (though downstairs is now a Domino Pizza)

I have no idea why looking into this stuff fascinates me so much, especially when I'm 14 mins 30 into a recap and I've spent the last half hour looking up the old station and it's surroundings on Google Maps (!)

#the bill #sun hill #sun hill station #in which i am very easily distracted

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lua-magic · 10 months ago

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Intresting Astrology facts (Vedic Astrology) Part 2.

Venus in fifth house natives will get money when they are into learning, teaching, counseling.

Venus in sixth house actually is debilitated, and gives problems in relationship, but here you can make money from service and charity, good for people who are into job.

Venus seventh house should go buisness in partnership.

Vedic astrology States that men who has their Venus in seventh house shoul not give importance to beauty in their partners because they will spoil their Venus instead focus on compatibility because seventh house is opposite to first house, so your partner should be of your energy match, hence Mars in seventh house should go partners with exalted Mars.

Venus ninth House, Venus with Jupiter, natives should always keep their morality and values on pedestal. Such natives can do work regarding religion and spirituality, and counseling.

Venus tenth House. Tenth house is your job and career and Venus is beauty, luxury, clothes, cosmetics, hence any Venus related work or job would be good as well, but as Venus in the house of Saturn, best remedy for Venus tenth house is take good care of shoes, or wear only branded shoes, as shoes are Saturn.

Venus eleventh House - Work related to social media, networking, even photography and videography would be good.

Venus twelfth house- Twelfth house is of foreign travels and foreign lands, so work related to import export, MNCs, or go to foreign land and work there

Venus is also healing, hence good Venus natives are great in healing others.

Venus with Moon, or Saturn Moon conjunction or in trine should choose work where they can travel alot, as moon is change of place.

Venus Mars Rahu conjunction or in trine should choose place where they get entirely different culture, like culture shock, but this culture shock is gonna be extremely beneficial for their money.

Venus Mars Ketu in conjunction or trine should go to place where people are connected to their roots, as ketu is roots.

Venus Mars, in conjunction or in trine if facing problems in work life, then change your place shift near hill station or mountains, as in vedic astrology Mars is Mountain.

Venus is money and Rahu is cheating, native who has Venus Rahu in conjunction or in trine could get cheated.

Venus moon Rahu - online cheating of Money.

Venus Sun Rahu, cheating by boss or higher authority, or father can get cheated.

Venus Sun Rahu native family will rise once they shift to foreign land, as rahu is foreign land and sun is family.

Venus Mercury Rahu- Cheating in documents or in business or by friends.

Venus Mars Rahu -Cheating in land or by brother, or brother can get cheated.

Venus Saturn Rahu Cheating by employees or people working under you or by elder member

Venus Jupiter Rahu Cheating by guru or teacher or by highly knowledgeable person.

If women has harmonal issues then Venus is afflicted.

If man has fertility problems then Venus is afflicted.

If your Venus is under the influence of malefics then you would fall sick often and has low immunity..

Natives with Saturn retro are obsessed with shoes and cleaning their foot

Natives with Mars Rahu often see or can come in contact with venomous insects, like bees, snakes, spider..

Ketu is Traingle and number of ketu is three, so Mercury ketu Native will always have three best friend.

Ketu is enemy of all planets except Jupiter.

If your ketu is debilitated then pray to your ancestors as ketu is roots

Natives with strong ketu are attached to their roots

Saturn ketu will pull you towards your roots, what work your ancestors were into, same work you will get into..

Whichever planets ketu is sitting or which ever house it is in you have to be spiritual regarding to it,

Venus ketu- spiritual regarding Money

Saturn ketu -spiritual regarding work

Jupiter ketu -spiritual knowledge.

Mercury Ketu -spiritual books or reading.

Mars ketu -spiritual regarding your land and property, and body, you need to treat your body and home as temple.

Moon ketu - Spiritual mindset.

Sun Ketu - Spiritual regarding family, respect every one in the family and think people around you are just big family of yours.

#vedic astrology #spirituality #astro community #astro observations #astro notes #astrology

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oceantornadoo · 9 months ago

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silence is how simon riley falls in love with you.

you’re a talker most of the time, cracking jokes and making small quips. talking about the mission ahead or giving orders to young recruits. you talk on the phone with your family back home, your low murmurs traveling under your door and through your walls. but silence is how he falls in love.

when the base gets its first snow all season, a cold december day, he watches your face grin towards the sky in the pure silence that comes when snow blankets everything. you stick out your tongue with glee, and he falls in love for the first time.

it’s a lonely january night, and you insisted on playing “fire crackling” youtube videos in the common room. something about it feeling like home, some insistent need within you that you play off as a joke. you fall asleep to the sounds of logs crackling and simon’s breathing, your cheek making contact with his shoulder. he takes in the silence, and falls in love again.

fast forward to valentine’s day, and somehow gaz and soap decorated the hallway while everyone was asleep. they slid valentines from secret admirers under doors, purely to stir up things around base. simon watches you step out of your room and bend down to read the valentine, all tired eyes and ruffled pajamas. he takes in the growing blush on your face and the silent pursing of your lips, as if you’re trying to hide a smile. he catches his own name in soap’s handwriting on the card, and now he knows he’s fallen hard.

it’s a sunny march day when he finally tells you. unseasonably warm, even for where you’re stationed. you convinced him to go on a morning run outside, taking in the birds chirping and the sounds of creatures stirring. you watch the sun rise together in silence, sitting at the top of a nearby hill. he takes your hand in his to get your attention, silent shock written on your face. slowly, so slowly it kills him and brings him back to life in a single breath, he raises it to his gloved mouth. he gives you all the time in the world to stop it, begging you to put him out of his misery. instead, you watch him give your palm a gloved kiss, feeling his warm breath in the roots of your body. you reply with a hesitant peck to his gloved lips, still not sure if you read his silence right. but you did - you always do. and that’s why simon riley loves you.

—

if any of the military logistics were incorrect pls ignore thank u! this writer has no clue how anything works, she’s just in love with ghost😗

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod 141 #fluff #ghost call of duty #tornadothoughts

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mediumgayitalian · 8 months ago

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———

By all accounts, Will knows what he’s doing.

He still drives like a godsdamn maniac.

“Do you want us to die?” Nico hollers, cheeks aching from the force of his grin, belly flipping at the peal of Will’s laughter.

The bike is exhilarating, as Will weaves it around cars at unbelievable speeds, working with the bike like it’s a part of him, like it’s not a separate thing he has to move. He steers it with a natural ease Nico’s only really seen in some of the best pegasus riders in camp — he knows the machine intimately enough to anticipate how it moves, how it reacts. It really is an extension of his body.

He left any panic about gripping onto Will somewhere in Long Island — to let go would be suicide. He has to hold on to stay onto the bike, to know to lean when Will leans, to tense when he tenses. Besides that, he’s having fun. He’s not the one driving, so he’s free to rest his helmet on Will’s back and watch as the world whips by — dizzying, really, as the speed of the bike making the green-budding trees melt into the bright blue skies, mix with the tar black asphalt, glow under the sparkling sun. The whole world looks like sidewalk chalk after it rains, a swirling mass of colour and streaks as artistic or more than what it was before it was washed away. The only indication that they’re actually going anywhere rather than standing straight in the middle of a kaleidoscope is the spots of roadside green that pop up every now and again, or a heavy lean to the side and Will switches lanes.

As they pull out of New York, Will starts to slow down. The dizzying mass of colours calms until everything’s at a slow spin, as Will mellows out to a speed that can be registered on a mortal odometer. With less wind whipping all over, Nico can actually hear him.

“Better than a flying chariot?”

Nico grins. “Definitely.”

“Another great thing about this is that it has a CD player. Two-nothing for the sad hunk of wood.”

By great thing Will of course means the same four songs I’ve been obsessed with for a month playing over and over and over until you are ready to launch yourself off the bike and join the dead raccoon at the side of the road, but that still doesn’t manage to ruin it. Something about driving top speeds in the early spring air makes it hard to be annoyed about annoying.

(Or maybe it’s the way Nico can feel Will’s muscles shift every time he moves, or how he winks every time he catches Nico’s eye in the mirrors, or the lowkey kind of sinful the way he straddles the seat. But Nico is quite happy sharing a name with a river in Egypt, so he ignores these fun facts and continues to delude himself, an art in which he is become quite wondrously skilled.)

Somewhere between Jersey and Delaware, the traffic picks up again, so Will shouts for him to hold on and cranks up the speed. Nico clenches tightly around his waist, squeezing his eyes shut, this time, and listens to the roar of air as they shove through it fast enough to rival sound. When they’re drifting, again, Nico can feel an incline, and looks up just in time to watch Will exit off the highway.

“Are we here already?” he shouts, incredulous. He knows his ADHD makes him bad with time, but jeez — it can’t have been more than an hour, an hour and a half.

“Not yet,” Will says, barely having to raise his voice as they come to a stop, heel of his boot clicking on the pavement. He checks both ways and then, once nothing comes around the bend, pushes off and guides them down a winding back road, tipping around curves and speeding down hills. Nico’s stomach bottoms out every drop, and he can’t clamp down the giggle that pushes out his throat, as ridiculous as it is. Luckily, Will’s giggling, too.

In a few minutes, they pull up to an old, rusted gas station, with signs so old they’re hand-painted. Will kills the engine and flicks out the kickstand, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his hair. It’s such a tangled mess that Nico can’t help but reach out and tug on a lopsided curl.

“I didn’t think this thing needed gas.”

“It doesn’t!” He pats a dark piece of glass in between the handlebars. “It’s solar-powered. But I figured you could use a minute to stretch your legs, and frankly, if I don’t eat something soon I genuinely might cook you.”

“You forgot to eat today, didn’t you.”

“…No.”

As soon as he speaks, his eyes start to water. His throat swells. He holds his breath for a noble four seconds, and then starts wheezing.

Nico sighs heavily. “Dumbass.”

Hauling him upright by the collar, Nico drags him towards the little corner store. This, at least, is familiar. Will gets caught up in his work easily, and forgets to do things like eat or move or, on one particularly amusing occasion, breathe. (Just tipped right over, one day, onto the floor, mid-poultice. There is a chip on the side of the stone mortar to this day. Nico, Will’s other friends, and his siblings take shifts bringing it up to dunk on him properly. Last he checked, Lou Ellen commissioned Jake Mason to make a plaque to hang on the infirmary wall, memorializing the incident forever.)

“C’mon, stupid. Let’s get you a sandwich. And Benadryl.”

“I’m honestly fine,” Will wheezes, cheeks swelling slightly.

“Stop talking,” Nico orders. “You’re making it worse.”

Wisely, Will clamps up. That, or his throat is starting to close. Either is likely.

His stubborn determination to continue lying despite being literally allergic to it would be impressive, if it wasn’t so irritating.

A little bell rings by the door when Nico pushes it open, making the person sitting behind the counter look up.

“Ah,” they say sagely, folding up their newspaper. “Demigods.”

Immediately, Nico’s on alert. Before he can draw his sword, though, Will lifts a hive-spotted hand in a wave.

“Hey, Berchio,” he croaks.

The person at the counter — Berchio — smiles ruefully.

“Benadryl?”

Nico nods hesitantly, still a little wary at the stranger, but Will is starting to keen over, now, and Nico didn’t think to bring an Epi-Pen (since the allergy is totally avoidable, William, you are your own worst enemy), so he’s running out of options. “Please.”

Chuckling to themself, Berchio ruffles around a shelf by the checkout counter, locating the familiar bottle after a minute — Will gets himself into these situations a lot, he has a serious twizzler problem and should consider getting his own stash instead of lifting it from the Hermes cabin and then lying about where it went — and rolling towards them. The spokes of their wheelchair have little skull charms on them that make a pleasant tinkling noise as they spin, making Nico trust them instantly. He should get Chiron wheel beads. That’s sick as hell.

“Here, kid. Drink water, too, you’re going to dry yourself out.”

Will garbles out a thank you, choking down the medicine. As all meds do with Apollo’s children, lucky bastards that they are, it works quickly, and in minutes he’s breathing right again.

“Gods, I love oxygen.”

“You are a human disaster,” Nico informs him. “Like, hugely.”

Will takes a sip of his water, pondering that. “Is that more embarrassing for you, or for me?”

“Why the hell would it be embarrassing for me?”

“Well, since you like me so much.” Nico chokes. “I might be a disaster, but at least I don’t have a crush on one.”

“All this wheezing,” Berchio sighs. “This must be Nico?”

“The one and only,” Will says cheerfully. He reaches out and touches a warm hand to Nico’s throat, immediately clearing his airways. Now no longer struggling for breath, Nico darts out and punches him, hard, on the arm.

“Ow! Meanie!”

“You are such a derp-faced dweeb,” Nico hisses, fully aware he’s red in the face. “Why are you — why are you this way.”

“I’m gonna tell Chiron you were bullying me!”

“Tell him! I’ll tell him you were the one to sprinkle instant mashed potatoes all over the grass before it rained, not Cecil!”

Will snaps his mouth shut. “I told you that in confidence.”

Nico smiles smugly. “Well, that’s on you. My loyalties are about as secure as my parent’s relationship.”

“If you two are finished flirting,” interrupts an amused voice, making both of them jump. Berchio watches them with their arms crossed, eyebrow raised in a similar chiding way to Chiron last time he caught Nico attempting to sneak an entire tray of brownies from the kitchen (mark his words — as soon as he can shadow travel again, no other camper will be seeing a brownie as long as they shall live). They shake their head, tutting exaggeratedly. “My, my, Will, I’m beginning to understand why you mentioned him every time you opened your mouth. I figured you liked him, but this is ridiculous.”

For once, Will is the one to flush crimson. He stutters something entirely incomprehensible, gesturing vaguely towards Berchio, and then frantically towards Nico, and finally squawks something about trust and the breaching of it. He goes red to the very roots of his hair, clamping his own mouth shut mid-sentence and scowling something awful.

Suddenly, Nico gets it. This is why no one ever leaves him alone. Oh, he is loathe to give the assholes he’s friends with credit, but…

When does he ever get to see Will — confident, easy Will — go scarlet?

“So you like me,” he says, shit eating grin stretching across his face. “Oh ho ho ho.”

“Oh, shut up,” Will snaps, without any heat. “Last time we played volleyball you got a concussion ‘cause you couldn’t stop staring at my chest and took a ball to the face.”

“That — it was — that hit was malicious,” he sputters. “And how is it my fault you’re always ditching your shirt at the first available opportunity like some kind of whore? I couldn’t not look!”

“Avert your eyes, then, scoundrel!”

“I — don’t call me a scoundrel! You’re a scoundrel!”

“You’re both late, is what you are,” Berchio interrupts again. “Will, I assume you’re running an errand?”

Still a little flushed, Will nods. “Yes. Thanks, Berchio. We’re picking up parts in Roanoke, I just stopped for some food.”

“He forgot to eat this morning,” Nico pipes up. He figures that Berchio seems comfortable enough with Will that they can act as a disappointed authority figure, which will make Mr. Daddy Issues Solace crumple like a castle built on a pillar of sand — he needs the humbling. (Also, Nico will get him on a healthier track or die trying. It’s not fair that he gets to be a big hypocrite about good diet and eating and sleeping habits and then turn around and act a fool. Someone needs to watch out for the idiot, or he’s going to get himself killed, and then Nico is going to have to spend the rest of his life in the Underworld, yelling at him.)

“William.”

Nico’s theory is proven correct. Berchio stares at Will with the perfect mix of disappointment and concern, immediately triggering the scramble-to-please expression on Will’s face. He practically stumbles over himself trying to follow after him and get fed.

“Are you happy with a sandwich, Nico? I know Will’ll eat anything that even remotely looks like food, but most of us have standards,” they tease.

Nico snorts at Will’s offended pout. “Yeah, a sandwich is more than fine. Thanks, Berchio.”

After handing them both a sandwich they pull from one of the many fridges in the little convenience store, they guide them outside, parking their wheelchair next to the curb they sit on and joining them in a little picnic.

“So how do you know each other?” Nico asks, gesturing between the two of them.

Will answers first, because Berchio, who is a polite person with manners, takes the time to swallow their food.

“I stop here all the time,” he says, garbled, making both Nico and Berchio wince. Nico takes the initiative to kick him.

“Stop being disgusting and explain yourself without showing off the contents of your mouth,” Nico threatens, “or I’m going to stab you again.”

Will swallows, sticks out his tongue, and continues.

“First time I used the bike, I got it into my head that I should go visit my mom. Would’ve been fine, except I was thirteen and hadn’t been outside of camp in six years and got chased by a pack of empousai the second I left the city, basically.”

“I was collecting herbs and sensed him coming,” Berchio explains. “He crossed the borders I have set up; I hid him here. Now he stops by whenever he’s travelling to chat.” Berchio smiles warmly. “I appreciate the company.”

Will grins back. “Me too! Plus, I very much appreciate the herb exchange. Speaking of which, I have your goldenrod.”

He digs into his jeans pocket, pulling out a bundle. He hands it over to Berchio, who accepts it gratefully, handing over their own bundle to Will.

“And your witch hazel.”

“Berchio’s an Ipotane,” Will explains, catching sight of Nico’s furrowed brow. “They’ve been doing this healing stuff for centuries. They’re real good with salves.”

Nico shakes his head fondly. “Even when you’re being cool, you’re a nerd.” He gestures to the bike. “Taking your secret motorcycle to visit your secret mentor to learn more about healing. Gods, it’s like Apollo made you in a lab.”

“You take that back! I contain multitudes!”

“And now you’re quoting famous poems, dear gods, try to prove my point better, why don’t you —”

“Blah blah blah!”

Nico grins at him, rolling his eyes, and Will is just as playfully dramatic with his bit lip and hidden smile and the hair he tucks behind his ear like he does when he wants to touch somebody but isn’t sure if it’s invited. Nico answers the question for him, reaching out and flicking his knuckles as an excuse to touch his hands. Will takes it, beaming.

“Thank you for the food, Berchio,” Will says when they finish, leaning down to hug them. “We gotta get going, but I’ll be back in a couple weeks. I had a dream about an outbreak, so no doubt the infirmary will need restocked soon.”

“Bring your boyfriend next time,” Berchio suggests, grinning when Nico goes red at the term. “Watching the two of you was not unlike one of Sterne’s famous productions.”

“I take offence to that,” Will says haughtily.

“Good. You needed humbling.”

“Nobody appreciates me around here!”

Nico bites back the I do that threatens to escape his throat. Gods, he’s so embarrassing. Whoever taught him how to speak should have to pay for their crimes.

They head back to the bike, waving goodbye to the Ipotane and speeding off. The drive the rest of the way down south is much calmer, bellies full and energy somewhat spent, and it helps that there’s no traffic. Will cruises, keeping time with the sun that’s inching across the sky, ignoring Nico’s suggestion to attempt to race his dad. They arrive in Roanoke in good time, following Nyssa’s scrawled directions to the parts shop.

The shop is old, visibly, paint peeling and smelling strongly of car grease. As Nysa predicted, the person they speak to — a mechanic, by the look of her jumpsuit — doesn’t ask so much as a single question at the two teenagers rolling up to her doorstep, heading to the greasy shelves of car parts and grabbing what they need with a shrug.

“Well,” says Will slowly as she piles them on the counter, “that’s…more than I anticipated.”

Nico looks at the stack of twisted metal. He looks at the bike. Finally, he looks at his dumbass friend.

“Solace.”

Will scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah?”

“Solace, tell me you have space to put this stuff.”

“Well, we can try the seat compartment?”

Nico buries his head in his hands. “Solace.”

“What!”

“You know what, lughead! We cannot do the one thing we came here to do! Gods!”

“I usually go on supply runs for the infirmary, okay!” Will cries. “That stuff is way less bulky! I forgot to compensate!”

Nico groans. At this point, they’re going to have to bus back, or something equally as stupid. And what are they gonna do with the bike? Gods, if Nico was here by himself and also maybe possibly with Reyna, who could share her strength, he’d just —

He stills.

“Oh, no,” Will says, pointing a stern finger, “oh, no, di Angelo, I know that look, you have been expressly banned —”

“Relax,” Nico grumbles. “Don’t you trust me?”

“With everything,” Will says automatically, then flushes for the second time that day. “But that is not the point —”

Deciding he will return to that later — and he most certainly will — Nico darts forward. Before Will can stop him, he puts both hands on the pile of parts, lunges towards the nearest shadow, and shoved them in, withdrawing as quickly as he can manage.

“Nico!”

He waits.

“Oh, you fuckin’ — you goddamn son of a mother!”

He checks his hands — still solid.

“I am going to smash you flat an’ feed you through a goddamn juicer! You fuckin’ heart-stopper!”

He grins. “I told you I could do some Underworld magic.”

“Underworld deez fuckin’ nuts!” Will stomps forward, grabbing Nico’s hands to do his own inspection. “What part of doctor’s orders are you missin’, huh? You think I wanna watch you fade again? You think I wanna —” His voice cracks, hands tightening around Nico’s wrists. Nico softens immediately, smug look melting into something gentler.

“Will.”

“You coulda died, Nico, you coulda faded to — to nothin’.”

“Will.” He flips his hands so his palms meet Will’s, and squeezes, smiling gently. “Feel my vitals, dork. Am I fading?”

Will exhales. “No.”

“Am I close?”

“…No.”

He squeezes again. “I’m fine, Will.”

“You scared me.” The anger in his voice has faded into something soft — something afraid. Suddenly the hands on his wrists feel more clingy than anything, and a twinge of guilt goes off in Nico’s stomach.

“I’m sorry.” He squeezes Will’s hands one last time, and when that doesn’t do much, lets go to wrap around his cheeks, instead, forcing him to meet his eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I don’t mean to restrict you,” Will says softly. “It’s just — I worry, is all.”

Nico taps their foreheads together, smile pulling at his face. This, he can — this he can deal with. This version of Will, soft and nervous and caring, makes it a lot easier to slide his fingers into the mess of Will’s curls, to run his thumbs over his cheekbones and feel him shiver.

“Would that have anything to do with the alleged crush you have on me?”

Will grins. “It might.” One of his hands comes up to rest on top of Nico’s, brushing over his knuckles. “All your moonin’ after me had me looking twice, I guess.”

“You’re such a dick,” Nico scoffs, and yanks him down to meet him in the middle, laughing, swallowing his smile and relishing in the warm press of their bodies. It’s — gods, it’s everything, it’s a thousand times better than he imagined, and at the same time everything he expected. Will smells like wind and sunshine and his lavender shampoo, and his hands are roughened from all the antiseptic he has to use, and his lips are surprisingly chapped, but the press of his cheeks is soft, and the feel of him is overwhelming. It feels, as cliche as it is, like the final burst of a firework after watching the smokey trail of the rocket with bated breath, watching it crest the night sky before exploding, finally, amongst the stars, it’s like —

A cleared throat startled them apart.

“Anytime y’all feel like paying for those parts, it would be great.”

Will grins sheepishly. “Sorry,” he says, pulling out the money Chiron gave him. His grin turns sly, and Nico’s knees turn to jelly. “My boyfriend’s just super distracting.”

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pygmi-cygni · 2 months ago

Text

found it

flufftober prompt 1 - lost pet meet cute

a/n: yes I know BB8 is not a pet, but he's pretty damn close and it's my fic anyway.

cw: fluff, strangers to lovers, poe being Sassy, reader is afab and racially ambiguous. she works as a comms officer.

The fields were quiet this early in the morning. You took the long way to your station, through the winding trails of the Yavin base. The foliage was glowing softly in the early morning sun. Even the birds were still rousing, lazy cooing peppering the silence. A warm cup of caf hugged to your chest completed the picturesque morning.

You stood on a hill, looking at the shining metal hangar from afar. So many pilots and techs rousing to go save the galaxy.

But your favorite had yet to arrive. In the recent weeks, you'd met a friend that made this morning walk even better.

"Hey, bud," you grinned at the fast-approaching metal ball. A BB unit, scuffed orange and white, whirred a happy greeting and bumped against your ankles. Giving his antennae a little shake, you extended your hand.

"Walk with me?"

A small metal arm protruded from his side, which you gently took in your palm. Slower, so that the little droid didn't get caught on a root, you two made your way towards the Comms tower.

He belonged to somebody; his condition was too nice to be a rogue. But nobody had filed a missing report, and he always went back to his pilot by the time your shift started. Besides, you had a soft spot for BBs. Their big black eyes made your heart melt.

That sweet morning moment warmed your chest throughout the whole day, even as a stressful mission tore at your nerves. He'd be at the same place in the evening to walk you back.

What a little gentleman.

Today was an event. Even arriving early, you'd scrambled to get in place before the first squadron took off. There was a mixup on the schedule, so half the shift showed up late and the other half had to cover three different missions at once. No caf had been shipped on time, so the cup you had that morning sustained you - barely - for the rest of the day.

All in all, you were fucking exhausted.

The suns were setting quickly. You stared out the window, a yawn cracking your jaw. Somebody tapped your arm.

"You look wiped, babe, wanna ride with me? Taryn will drive," your friend Anya said, concern knitting her brow. For a moment, your heart ached to leave your little buddy, but he'd understand. A walk would not help your exhaustion.

Nodding, you loaded into her land cruiser and promptly knocked out. It felt like a blink before your stumbled into your tiny hut, tearing off your boots and falling into bed. You'd wash the sheets later.

Somewhere around midnight, an incessant whirring pulled you from your den of sleep. Groaning, you squinted at your watch.

"Whassat?" you croaked, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. Something was outside, cracking sticks and scuffling in the mud Probably a rat.

Beeep. Beep beep beep-

Not a rat.

Frowning, you peeked out the window. A familiar white dome was darting in and out of the bushes, rolling faster than you'd ever seen him.

"Bud?"

You poked your head out the door, shivering at the cool air. The movement stopped. You puffed out a cloud, trying to find your friend. A familiar whir, then an eighty-pound metal droid collided with your knees. Howling, you stumbled back inside.

"Dude -fuck- buddy, chillout, your metal is like a frozen rock," you hissed, any remnants of sleep shocked from your mind. He chirped apologies, rolling around you in fast circles.

"Sorry I left, I was tired." You patted his side. BB-8 let out an indignant crackle and you snorted.

"Damn, didn't know this was such a big deal."

Standing, you yawned. "Thanks for the check in, dude, but I gotta go back to-"

"GET AWAY FROM MY DROID!"

fucking what the-

You dropped the blanket and screamed, falling backwards into a pile of leaves. BB-8 whined shrilly, a short electric pop shocking you from his surprise. An enormous crashing sound, and a shadowed man burst through the underbrush, blaster raised. A squad of birds took off at the massive arrival and swarmed your hut.

BB-8 immediately approached the man, whirring so fast his hubcap started emitting steam. The man dropped to his knee and started whispering back and forth, too quiet for you to hear. Not that you cared, you were trying to become as small as possible underneath your ratty blanket.

this is why we don't take random animals home, your mother's voice echoed, they always belong to somebody.

Well, she shoulda mentioned something about droids.

"Um, excuse me?"

You froze. The man cleared his throat and you heard him step closer. Carefully, you craned your neck to peek from under the quilt.

"Uh, hi," he waved, still shrouded in darkness. You blinked back, dumbfounded. BB-8 stayed close to this guy's ankles, clearly encouraging.

"H-hello?" you croaked, sitting up when you realized he had pocketed the blaster.

"Sorry about that," he laughed sheepishly, his silhouette rocking on his heels. "I uh, I thought something else was going on."

"I gathered that," you sighed, brushing the dirt and crud off of your pants. The blanket was trashed; you'd wash it later. Laundry day suddenly just got bumped up. Any remnants of sleep were gone.

BB-8 chirped softly and you smiled. "Yeah, I figured I had to meet your pilot one of these days."

The man looked at the droid. "How'd you know I was a pilot?"

"...BB units ae specifically assigned to pilots."

"Oh." He cleared his throat again and shifted his stance. The silence was beginning to be uncomfortable, and you really wanted to go back to bed.

"I-"

"Well-"

Both of you laughed this time, and you opened the door a little wider, initial hesitation gone. "Would you like to come in?" You offered.

The man shook his head. "No, I've taken up enough time. And besides, Beebs needs a cleaning." The little droid sputtered and smoked.

"Don't fuss, little man, or I'll use the yellow sponge."

Terrified, the droid zipped into the underbrush. You waved goodbye and shook your head. Never a dull day. Or night.

"Captain's got something for ya," one of your coworkers mumbled in your ear, clapping your shoulder. Frowning, you set aside your headset and peeked into the control room. Your amused commander was watching BB-8 carefully balance a tray on his little round head.

"Buddy?"

He beeped and slowly rolled over, spinning wildly to avoid dropping his precious cargo. Precious indeed - a steaming cup of caf, fresh from the shipment. You mentally pumped your fists and grinned, snatching the hot cup from your little friend.

A sticky note was attached to the side.

thanks for babysitting - Poe

You weren't sure who the fuck Poe was, but he was a gem for sending coffee, so you weren't complaining. Taking a long, grateful drag of your liquid gold, you gave Beebs an appreciative pet and saluted your captain. She smirked and gestured to the hall.

"The delivery man wanted to speak with you," she said airily, winking. Affronted by her weird attitude, you apprehensively followed BB into the hall.

Leaning against a set of control panels was one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen. Is that the guy??

Upon seeing you, he jolted to a straighter position and stuck out his hand.

"Hi," he breathed, "Poe Dameron. Sorry about--last night, that was, um, yeah, sorry," he said, scratching his neck. You were too absorbed in his deep brown eyes to register his nervousness.

"Yeah, sure thing," you mumbled, blinking back into focus. Damn, you didn't know pilots could be that pretty. Even sweaty helmet hair suited him.

BB looked between you, unsure of who to nudge first. He picked his pilot, bumping gently into his boots and sending up hopeful coos. You rocked on your heels.

"Uh, I have to get back, but thanks for the caf," you said, smiling. Poe looked up from petting his droid to send a dazzling grin up at you.

Feeling like a ball of joy, you floated back to your position and spent the rest of the day spacing out in amazement.

In an instant, you were trudging back up the hill, BB at your ankles. It was a cooler day; the Yavin summer was turning quickly into monsoon season. You needed to hurry home to put up the rain shields.

Stopping to catch your breath, you shrieked when a large hand closed over your shoulder.

"Shit-sorry," Poe hissed, backing off and nearly tripping over BB. "Sorry, sorry, I only wanted to walk with you. Shit, are you okay?"

You were doubled over, desperately trying to calm your rocketing heartbeat. Could you ever have a normal conversation with this man?

"Fine," you gasped, righting yourself. Poe's gaze softened and he smiled. Clearly he'd showered and a divine glow was shimmering around his hair. Again with the lethal face card, this guy. As if breathing wasn't hard enough already.

Naturally as blinking, Poe took your bag from your shoulder and helped you over the hill, walking arm in arm. Were you dreaming? He smelled wonderful, and he chatted amicably as you walked. There was a certain charm radiating off of him - one that drew you in like a magnet.

BB whirred contentedly between you, occasionally throwing in his two cents as you teased each other over rank.

"For a Commander you're awfully uncoordinated," you poked, to which he responded with a dramatic eye roll and a "careful, you don't wanna get demoted."

You felt a twinge of disappointment as your hut came into view. Poe's grip tightened then released.

"Thanks for the walk," you said, admiring the way the sun fell on his eyes. He smiled and they twinkled brighter.

"Sure. 7 tomorrow?"

You blinked. "Sorry?"

"Your shift," he elaborated, "you leave for work at 7. I'll meet you here. Beebs told me," he added at your suspicious look. A shamefully loud giggle threatened to break out of your mouth, but you coughed to cover it.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"See you then, sweetheart," he called over his shoulder. You waved, keeping your composure until the door closed, after which you screamed into a pillow and never stopped smiling.

"You left out the best part," Poe whined, nudging your shoulder. You cocked your head, sipping the tall flute of champagne.

'Whaddya mean? That's literally the-"

"What about the part where you fell shamelessly in love with me the second our eyes met in the darkness and you couldn't resist my rugged charm?" He pouted, fluttering his dark lashes.

"Poe," you chastised, tapping his nose, "it was dark, I couldn't see you at all. It coulda been Finn for all I knew. Or General Ackbar."

He gagged animatedly at the thought as your audience guffawed. The warmth of the night blossomed in your chest, and you adjusted the straps of your dress.

"Can we go home soon?" Poe asked, leaning against your shoulder. His day-old stubble scratched pleasantly on your skin.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the clock. "Really, dear?"

"I'm tired, and you look real pretty, and I think I read somewhere it's inappropriate to undress in public, so...please?" If it wasn't your wedding that you were hosting and that you needed to attend, the doe-eyed look he was giving you might have tipped the scales. But you hadn't even cut the cake yet.

"No way, Commander, you still need to prove yourself on the dancefloor."

"After?"

"Only if you walk me back," you murmured, kissing him warmly on the lips.

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