#twelve x rose prompt

[gingerteaonthetardis]

Another nonsense prompt:

Romana, drunk on ginger beer: Please explain to me why?

Rose, equally drunk of hypervodka: Why what?

Romana: -vague gestures at the Doctor-

Setting, Doctor, and Rose’s reasons are to your discretion based on whatever mood you’d like to create.

thinky, i loved loved loved writing this prompt (i'm really enjoying trying out romana's perspective lately!) and since the other ones you sent have been coming out angsty, i made sure to fluff this one up. i also chose twelve as my doctor, just to heighten how thoroughly cracky this situation is. i hope you enjoy it (in spite of it being unedited)!!

(click here to read on ao3.)

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Their bodies had ended up at sharp ninety-degree angles, through no fault of Romana's.

No, she laid all the blame squarely at the little human girl's doorstep. It was she who had withdrawn a bottle of hypervodka from one of her borrowed coats, out of a cheeky trans-dimensional pocket—as if any Time Lady worth her particulate wouldn't notice that kind of unsanctioned jiggery-pokery—and it was she who had suggested they go and search out some ginger beer to get them on equal footing. And in the end, it was she who was responsible for all those generous pours.

(On the other hand, it was Romana who had chosen to drink them, which did leave her shouldering a bit of blame. But only a little. The rest was all Rose.)

As she gazed up at the ceiling, Romana reflected on the nature of their situation as it now stood. Or rather, tilted.

The girl had been travelling with them for some time now. It had been a bit of cleverness in the basement of a London shop that brought her into the fold. (Only several hours prior, Romana herself had come aboard. In retrospect, she didn't know why she'd expected a little bit of a time to settle in again—it had been so long—before they took on anyone else, but she was rather miffed at the Doctor's speed and enthusiasm in inviting Rose along.) Yet Rose earned her keep in more than just the ordinary sense.

Though she was clever—and good in a crisis��she was also equipped to be a generally good travelling companion when they were not in danger. She was funny, and open, and very warm. Her nature tended towards unassuming compassion, she was a charmingly low-maintenance passenger, and it was clear she was utterly devoted to the Doctor, absurd as the concept seemed.

Really, that was the incongruity. The piece that Romana could not make sense of. Much as she’d come to care for him, the Doctor was brash, and absurd, and secretive. He was frequently rather self-involved and occasionally quite stupid.

He was, in every respect, the opposite of his lone human companion.

And yet…

The blurred ceiling overhead warped further as Romana turned her head to look at the girl, her hair crinkling, fanned out over the carpet of the media room. From above, they probably looked very silly, laying with their heads together on the floor, their legs kicked up against the back of the large sofa.

This had been Rose's doing as well: she'd been repeating with great enthusiasm something (she at least believed) she'd heard the Doctor say, something about circulation and higher brain function, and Romana didn't have the hearts to tell her that she wasn't sure about the human circulatory system, but it was certainly not how Gallifreyans operated. And when Rose insisted they try it—whatever it was—she'd gone along with it.

So, they'd kicked their legs up, and now they just sort of remained, wiggling their toes and giggling at nothing, waiting for their "heightened brain function" to begin.

All that seemed to be happening was Rose's cheeks going progressively pinker.

Meanwhile, the girl was chattering on about how the Doctor had promised to take her somewhere new, a place where dogs had no noses. Romana finally spoke up.

"Please explain to me… why?" she pronounced, with—she thought—impressive clarity.

Rose's ramble stopped mid-stream, and she tipped her head to the side. "Why… what? Why wouldn't they have noses?" She scrunched her own, which was sort of button-ish, not unlike Romana's. "I don't know. Hadn't thought about it, actually. Not sure I want to."

"No, not the—not the dogs, you silly girl," Romana laughed. (It was not a cackle; she did not cackle.) "I meant, why do you…?" She made a kind of vague gesture over the back of their heads, to where the Doctor was currently sound asleep—or possibly just unconscious—atop a pile of couch cushions, which had been commandeered from their much abused sofa.

His face was slack. It was highly probable he'd soon begin to drool, if he hadn't begun already.

Romana winced. "I mean, isn't he…? Well, that is…" Her faltering, intoxicated vocabulary made her huff in irritation. "Why do you… when he's so—?"

"Tall?" Rose finished. Romana was alarmed to see the girl's smile turn quite giddy, her glazed eyes taking on a dreamy, half-lidded quality. "He is, isn't he?"

"Well, I suppose."

"And he's got great hair. All those silvery curls…"

"Yes, well—!"

Rose's shoulders rolled, as if she meant to yawn and stretch and sink into a blissfully warm bath. She sighed contentedly. "I love him, I think."

"You do," Romana said. Her disbelief seemed like it must have been evident to anyone less totally inebriated.

But Rose didn't so much as bat an eyelash.

"Don't think, actually. I'm sure. Have been for a while. Is that stupid?"

"Probably," she answered honestly. "He's an idiot, Rose, a very clever idiot."

"And he's too old for me," Rose said, nodding her seeming agreement. "And he's a bit careless sometimes. About people… 'bout everything."

Romana frowned.

"But I think those times are when he needs us most. He was alone so long, before you and me." Rose turned her head, eyes briefly sharpening in wakeful attention. "You knew, didn't you?"

"Knew what?"

"How lonely he was. That's why you came back, isn't it?" Her tone was matter-of-fact, as if it was only obvious. But it wasn't obvious at all. Rose went on. "He lost his daughter… what was it, two—three hundred years ago? He's always vague with the details. But her name was Jenny. He lost her to another world, sounds like, and he's been alone ever since. Lifetimes on his own, just floating."

Rose gestured with her hand, floating tracing an arced path over them. Her pink, glittery nail varnish caught the light, flickering like nebulae viewed through a fractured telescope. It became clear to Romana that she was extremely drunk, and her vision was impaired.

But her reasoning was less fragmented.

Concern for the Doctor was not, in fact, why she'd come. There hadn't really been a "why." She'd been lonely, and rather bored, as Leela was off on a mission with Narvin that she probably wanted to know nothing about. BIut really, she'd just wanted to go. And so, she'd contrived a way to stumble upon him.

And in so doing, she'd stumbled the both of them right into the Autons, and the Nestene Consciousness, and a twenty-first century shopgirl with a strong moral compass. From there, the adventures, as always, seemed unending—fast-paced and almost predictable in their unpredictability. They skated through danger, always risking a burn or a scrape or a loss and always emerging on the other side, triumphant and weary, minds refreshingly emptied.

She'd been caught up in it all, she had to admit.

But somehow, Rose had found time in the madness to extract these insights. To see through the Doctor's bright and shiny façade. And to fall utterly in love.

It was so—Romana's brow furrowed, her lips pursed—it was so… human.

And despite herself, she laughed. (She did not cackle; she absolutely did not.) Shaking her head, she reached a hand out to pat Rose's arm.

"You dear thing," she chuckled. "You know you're entirely too good for him."

Rose flushed. Her head was beginning to take on a rather tomato-esque colouring. Romana decided it was probably best if they got up.

Behind them, the Doctor made a sound—half gasp, half snuffle. When Romana looked back, he was blinking owlishly at them, watching them rolling about and cautiously beginning the process of becoming vertical. It was rather slow going.

"Good morning, Doctor," she greeted. She spoke loudly, with an abundance of artificial cheer.

"I wasn't sleeping," he insisted in a husky tone. "Were you sleeping?" (His accent—Scottish, an affectation Romana did not quite understand the purpose of—seemed to have been enhanced by his little nap, and his hair was flattened on one side. But at least there was no sign of drool.)

Rose pushed up to her knees, and Romana could only watch in amusement as she crawled over to the Doctor, stretching out a hand to help him up. His eyes, when they met Rose's, came alive—a brilliant, reflective blue which seemed to contain an unfathomable depth of feeling.

She shook her head. There was nothing to be done now. If Rose was in love, at least the Doctor seemed equally (if not more) besotted with his resident human.

They would almost certainly break each other's hearts.

But if they didn't…

If they didn't, she believed they might very well be the stuff of legend.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

thank you for the prompt, dear! and to send further prompts, drop me an ask.

[kitscutie]

omg if you’re still wanting requests for coryo, maybe sm like he’s mentoring reader instead of lucy gray (she is safe and sound in 12 dw!) and they get reunited after r wins the games? maybe by some kind of fluke? i’ll leave it up to you bc i love everything you write babes <3

money, power, glory (coriolanus snow x fem!reader)

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: none!

summary: coriolanus snow is your mentor, unlike the others he has a drive for your survival - it quickly becomes clear your bond goes above mentor and tribute.

a/n: this is not part of the snow and roses series but part two is coming very soon -hope you enjoy! also thank you so much to this anon - you're a cutie!

word count: 3.6k

join my taglist here!

The train ride to the Capitol was dark and lonely. It felt as though everybody had already found friends or were close to their fellow District tribute, yours wanted nothing to do with you.

Seeing as you were from twelve you were thin and weak, you knew that, you could feel it in the way your stomach rumbled on a loop every day or the way your head spun when you stood up but you never thought one of your own would turn their back on you.

You didn't think you stood a chance, simply another pawn in the Capitols game but still you had hope.

When the train stopped it jolted, tipping you over had you been stood up like Thornton your fellow Twelve tribute. He wasn't muscly but more so burly, it was clear his family was among the wealthier back home but compared to the Capitol it was nothing.

You stood up from your small corner, cowering away from the sunlight which blinded you upon the doors opening. You heard yells, presumably from your fellow tributes or even the 'peace keepers' as they tried to calm the crowds.

Below you, you saw a flash of red which stood out from the white uniforms and wall to floor grey cement.

Upon closer inspection snow white hair lay atop his head, prominent and proud.

Thornton jumped out of the box on his own accord, not prompted by the guards, nor the boy below you, simply motivated to get into the Hunger Games.

Your head slowly peered out from the box and that's when his eyes met yours, strikingly blue they seemed out of place in such a colourless setting.

"Welcome to the Capitol." He stuttered out, holding a rose which matched his hair out to you, it was beautiful, nothing you had ever seen back home.

"Thank you. Could you-." You began to ask for his help out of the train which staggered above the ground just below half of your height, though he realised quickly, holding your waist as he gently placed you on the ground in front of him.

Finally out of your cage you took the rose from his calloused fingers, admiring it in all it's beauty. It reminded you of him, soft and subtle yet powerful as it stood tall on it's stalk.

"This is beautiful." You said, it came out in something similar to a whisper, your body still adjusting to the new setting. "You look different," You said as you glanced around at the tributes in dirty hand me downs and the guards in plaster white uniforms. "Who are you?" You asked.

"I'm your mentor." He smiled charmingly, it seemed second nature to him.

"Where are the other mentors?" You once again asked, unsure if this was new or simply something you had missed as you sat watching the games between your fingers.

"Well, I'm not supposed to be here but, I'm sure greeting you falls in my line of duty." He said. "Taking care of you." He added which sent butterflies wild in your stomach. He was doing his job you reminded yourself but nobody back home was quite this attractive nor this attentive. You had never been taken care of. Always independent to survive.

You said nothing more, taking in all of his glorious features until a peacekeeper grabbed you arm, taking you with the rest of the tributes into an armoured van. You were once again alone.

You watched in surprise as just moments later your mentor jumped in behind you, standing against the back wall as if to not be seen in a packed and confined space.

"Hi." He said, realising he stood out like a sore thumb. It almost made you chuckle - his blatant fear but then you realised you should be much more scared.

"What's the matter pretty boy, you in the wrong cage?" Said Reaper. He was a tribute you admired, he was brave and strong and seemingly had a deep care for his friend Dill.

"No. This cage is delightful." He smiled. You were impressed by his natural appeal, well to you at least. Every word which came out of his pale lips had you hanging on by a thread.

With that Reaper had had enough, slamming him against the wall with power. "I'll kill you." He said convincingly.

"He'll do it too. He killed a Peacekeeper back in Eleven." Dill spoke as she stared into nothingness.

"I say we all kill him." Added Bobbin as he now stood up too, the other Tributes speaking out in agreement. You began to panic, he was your only source of companionship, of opportunity to leave the Capitol in one piece and here he was about to be ripped to shreds before the Games even begun.

"He's my mentor, could you please not kill him?" You asked pathetically as you attempted to stand between him and Reaper. A feeble attempt though an attempt none the less.

"How come you get a mender?" Said Coral, dirty gaze set now upon you.

"Mentor." He corrected her. "You each get one." He finished, hoping this would calm them in their attempt to kill him.

"And we'll all just believe you, huh? Why does Twelve here get special treatment." Coral replied, now out of her seat and very much in your face as she squished your cheeks between her grimy fingers.

"I'm not special, just lucky I suppose." You shrugged feeling heavily intimidated and under scrutiny by all of their hungry gazes. Eager to pull blood from you in this very moment.

The room went silent and at first you didn't realise why, until you felt your cage begin to shake, slowly tilting towards the ground. Your mentor's hands once again wrapped around your waist though this time from behind you and your own reached down to hold onto his wrists, having no stability.

You all screamed as you fell down onto hard wood chips and damp mud. Eyes were once again blinded by the harsh sunlight as you adjusted to wherever you now were.

A mans voice echoed around your new cage - how kind of them to give you multiple in such little time - seemingly introducing himself to the crowd around you before he spotted the red uniform.

"Excuse me, yes you sir, in the red! Who are you and why are you in there with them, we are live!" He asked, hair gelled to perfection to one side.

You grabbed your mentors hand as he stood frozen in his spot clearly unsure what to do, you however saw an opportunity, an opportunity to stand out.

"May I introduce you to my neighbours?" He asked sarcastically as though he really hated the people filming you like you wanted to be here.

With that the pair of you walked over, but not before he took the rose from your free hand and tucked it behind your ear. It burned under the warmth of his skin, not having had any form of physical touch for as long as you can remember.

"Hi. How do you do, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and this here is my tribute Y/N L/N from District Twelve." He said partly for the cameras partly introducing himself to you and you to him. He already knew your name. He had watched the reaping's, seen you cry in weakness.

"Hello." You mumbled partly shuffling to hide behind his body. Not used to such attention.

He focused his attention on you, firing questions at you over and over again until you had had enough. "More on my mentor, seemed he's the only one who bothered to show up." You said and the boy that you now knew to be Coriolanus rubbed his thumb back and forth over your hand as he sensed your discomfort being Infront of so many prying eyes.

"Well I would love to ask him some questions but it seems as though he's about to be whisked away." Lucky said and as soon as the words came out Peacekeepers appeared behind the pair of you grabbing him by the biceps and beginning to drag him away.

"Hey." You held onto him for one second longer. "Thank you for everything Coriolanus Snow. But uh, could you please bring me some food? I can feel my bones turning into dust as we speak." You said. He slightly chuckled at this but no less nodded.

With that, you were once again alone.

"Y/N!" You heard your name from behind the rock you sat against, instantly recognizing the voice to be Coriolanus Snow.

"That for me?" You asked as he pulled out a few pieces of food wrapped in tissue in front of you. He handed it to you through gaps in the fence, wordlessly answering your question. "Thank you." You said as you eagerly stuffed your face, this being the first meal you had eaten in days, no weeks.

"They not feed you back in Twelve?" He asked, concerned.

"No. We don't exactly get that luxury." His question surprised you, you assumed it was common knowledge that food was few and far between in the outer Districts yet here he was, surprised. "Seems your friend already knows that." You added as you watched a girl in a matching uniform to his teasing Brandy.

"She is not my friend she is poison with perfect teeth." He answered and yet again it sounded so perfect. He knew just what to say to please you, comfort your mind as you wondered at what point he would turn on you. "Listen, you can't share this with anyone. This is my only chance to help you and they-" He said discreetly pointing to the tributes scattered around you, "Are only going to use you."

"Not like I've got anyone to share with. Don't think I'm very popular." You said, defeated. You supposed that out of anyone, you didn't want to befriend the people who would shortly be wishing death upon you but instead the man before you who would hold your hand until the moment you walked through that door.

"Maybe not with them but out here you have a chance. I've made some suggestions, I might be able to get the audience to send you gifts. Food and water. You just need to play into their game, win them over." He said, face against the fence as he wished to keep this information between the two of you. An advantage.

"I don't want to play their game, the same game that got me here in the first place? I don't think charming anyone is my forte anyway." You once again deprived yourself of any credit, picking at the skin around your nails.

"You're more charming than you think Y/N. I'd bet on it." He said, gaze digging deep into your soul. No one had ever complimented you before never mind in such a blatant way. You knelt down, tired of standing and he went with you continuing your conversation.

"Dill reminds me of my sister, before she passed. So sick and weak, I hate to think of her in a place like this." You shared, feeling vulnerable to him in such a short time.

"I'm sorry." He said genuinely.

"You seem like a good man Coriolanus. Would've been nice to meet you outside of this cage." You said, tapping on the metal bars before letting it settle there.

"Mhm." He agreed, tilting his head sympathetically and after moment of what must have been deliberation he wrapped his own hand around yours. It warmed your skin, chilled by the cold iron beneath your palm.

Your sweet moment was cut off by Arachne's scream as Brandy had enough of her teasing, smashing the bottle and using it to slice her neck.

You stared in horror, this was what you were up against in that arena, you stood no chance.

Coriolanus leaped into action, comforting the bleeding girl while Peacekeepers shot Brandy down. In all of your years alive you had never witnessed such violence and it left you shaking, even more so as the bullets narrowly missed Coriolanus' head.

The Peacekeepers grabbed his arm, once again pulling him away from you, your heart beating in his direction.

The next day you were all placed in a large circular room. You and your fellow tributes shackled to a table while the mentors sat proudly, postures straight before you.

You were allowed to discuss game plans for the main event but also for a televised special where the Capitol could get to know you. Nut it wouldn't really be you, just a shell of your former self.

"I'm sorry about your friend." You sympathised, he was clearly upset, scared you weren't sure but his energy was different to his hopeful exterior from yesterday.

"Thank you. Are you doing okay?" He deflected, though his care seemed and was genuine. He cared about you more than the way a mentor cares for the tribute. Your connection went deeper.

"I'm scared Coriolanus. You saw what those tributes can do yesterday. I'm nothing compared to them! I've never even killed a spider." You cried out in desperation, hands shaking where they were tied to the table.

"I'm scared for you, Y/N. I don't want to lose you in there, so I guess that makes two of us." He replied, soothing you. "But no matter how scared you are you have to perform for them in the interviews later. Pretend to be someone else or be yourself it doesn't matter but this is the last chance to make them like you. Didn't take much for you to win me over." He added.

"I- I just can't Coriolanus. I'm no performer. I'm no different to them just weaker and a character in their entertainment." You answered, slowly admitting defeat.

"You have to be brave, Y/N. For me, okay?" He begged, once again placing his hand over your own.

"I'll try." You decided. You either died of embarrassment or an axe to the face and you knew which you proffered.

"Snow. Let's go!" Shouted Casca, the creator of the games. A man you loathed.

"You'll be okay." He said before he left his chair leaving you to sit in the large room as the other debated their strategies.

Later on once you were allowed to view the arena he returned. Instantly walking in stride beside you as if he never left.

The arena was void of light except the red beams which pointed out the entrance. It was eerie and honestly a fabrication of your worst nightmares.

This time in your fear you felt no hesitation to grab onto his hand, and he grabbed your back, linking you fingers with a squeeze which said to you 'it's okay' without saying anything at all.

Seeing the cameras you released it, not wanting unnecessary attention upon yourselves.

The gates closed behind you with a loud clang, leaving you in the darkness and you stumbled back into his chest, the only thing keeping you from a breakdown being the steady beat of his heart beneath his chest.

Shutters on each wall began to rise letting in the natural sunlight outside but yet you were still very much in another cage.

While the other tributes decided their alliances you stuck by Coriolanus' side and he had no objections. "Coriolanus you can't met me die in here. I've got so much left to do." You begged, clutching the opening of his red suit.

"I wont let you die, Y/N. Even if it's the last thing I do." He replied, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. His words were laced with truth, knowing his plans to bend the rules in order to keep you alive.

The moment was short lived as the centre of the arena exploded, rubble and smoke flying everywhere including into your forehead as you felt blood trickle into your eye.

Both you and Coriolanus ran, though he was seconds too slow as a pillar fell onto his leg trapping him against the floor. While the other tributes ran having little regard for their mentors you ran back, pulling it off of him with every last ounce of power in your body.

Your heart ached hearing his cried but also with the pain that this was most likely the last time you would see him before the games as the Peacekeepers found you and dragged you back to the 'zoo' before you could attempt escape like the others.

"Y/N." You heard your name whispered into the darkness of the night. You hadn't slept, not since the thought of Coriolanus being dead crossed your mind and so it hadn't taken much to catch your attention.

"You're alive, thank god." You cried. Seeing his face untouched calmed your racing heart.

"The bombs, they changed everything. I've been in there, you can hide, the floors gone. You can hide until it's safe. Run when it starts and don't come out until it's safe, please Y/N. Don't go for the weapons." He begged to you. You had planned to hide in the first place but his desperation for your survival warmed your heart.

"Thank you Coriolanus snow. For taking care of me. Just like you promised." You said to him, tears beginning to fall from your eyes, the same tears you hadn't let fall since the train arrived in the Capitol.

"Just like I promised." He smiled. "You saved my life in there Y/N." He added.

"I'm sorry." You said as you couldn't hold back your desperate tears anymore. You were sorry you wouldn't succeed for him, sorry this was the last time you would see him, sorry that your heart ached for him.

"It's okay, It's okay." He soothed you. Wiping your tears with his embroidered handkerchief. "I'm gonna get you out of there. I promised after all, right?" He repeated his earlier declaration of promise, it meant everything to you and yet nothing. At the end of the day your survival came down to you and you didn't know if you could handle blood on your hands.

"Is this all real? Between you and me, do you really-" You began to ask, though he cut you off.

"I care about you, Y/N. Really. No amount of money could make me do this for you, risk it all. The things you wanted to do, wanted to live for? I want to do them with you. I want to give you the life you deserve." He said and that was all the confirmation you needed, the feelings you were having were real. Not part of the game, not faked for the cameras.

He was here in the middle of the night to help you.

"We are gonna win this, Y/N. We are gonna win this together."

It had now been fifty four days and counting since you had last seen him. The games had come and gone, what you thought was luck leaving you a victor.

Days had been boring since Coriolanus Snow left your life. You returned to what you had left behind in District Twelve, friends, no family and a wooden shack you called a home.

Your heart longed to see him, more than anything in this world you wished to feel his hand in yours one more time. Hear his reassuring words one more time though now you needed them to comfort your nightmares.

Today was the same as every day had been. Get up, bathe in a bucket, eat vegetables you found in the forest and then read the same books you had for the past eighteen years. It was all you had but now more than ever it felt good to be stuck in that cycle instead of stuck in a cage of people who called for your death.

A knock at your door at mid-day startled you. It was unusual to get visitors in District Twelve - everybody keeping to themselves and yet something dragged you to answer.

Opening the door you saw a figment of your dreams. White hair, blue eyes and pale skin, yet they were too real and close to be something your brain created.

"Y/N L/N, you are a sight for sore eyes." He said, his voice like butter in your ears.

"Coriolanus?" You asked before he tackled you into a hug, hands gripping you like you would slip through his fingers at any moment in time. "How- what." You began to ask.

"I was sent to Eight to be a Peacekeeper but I used my last cents to get sent here instead, then I just asked around to find you. Find my girl." He said as he held your face between his hands, checking you over for injuries. The last time he was you you were injured and cowering in the arena, begging to be set free.

"You found me." You whispered, diving in to kiss him. He responded immediately, wasting no time in curling his lips into yours. You fought for dominance but ultimately you let him take over, needing to let go for once.

"I missed you so much." You whimpered in both pleasure and pain as he kissed and nibbled on your neck. Dream becoming reality. "I begged with every last but of luck within me that I'd see you again." You confessed, bringing his face up to kiss you once more.

"And here I am." He smiled, staring into your eyes, breathing the same air as you.

"I thought my life ended that day, in that arena. Losing myself, then losing you." You admitted, eyes similar to the last time you saw him, glassy.

"Y/N, Y/N." He chuckled, "Our life has only just begun."

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[cryptidghostgirl]

What Can I Do For You? (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Prompt: what if the deal restricting Alastor's powers is with you? haha, unless....

Warnings: THIS IS NOT SMUT. However, there will be some abusive/unhealthy relationship things obvi. One (1) bad word (I think).

Word count: 1,855

Master lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N this is just a reminder that I do accept requests if anyone is interested!

She was waiting there for him when he got back. Of course she was. Sitting in the chair of his recording studio, leaned back and casual. She acted like she owned the place.

It had been a few weeks since she'd sent him to the Hazbin Hotel. Alastor still didn't know the reasons but, him confirming the success of his appointment of the place had been the last time they'd spoken, it had been the last time he had seen her.

Quietly, Alastor pulled himself from the door way, his heart pounding frantically, halfway between anger and something akin to joy. He walked up to her, his hands placidly clasped behind his back. Stopping a few feet away, she turned to face him.

There it was, that sickly smile. Part of what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. There was a reason Alastor had avoided intimacy, love, complex feelings like that for so long and it was because he knew they made him weak. If he cared, he always thought, his enemies could use the object of his care against him. Simple as that.

Never in his wildest dreams did he think that it was the hypothetical person he might care for who would use his affections to their advantage. He had been naïve. He had been a fool.

The red light from the night sky crashed against her face, throwing her features into sharp contrast. She crossed her legs, the length of her skirt revealing her thighs just the slightest bit above her laced combat boots. She tilted her head slightly to the side. She was beautiful, just as beautiful as the day he'd met her.

That had all been part of the act as well, being small and afraid under the grips of that man. Alastor had heard her scream and found them in the ally. He had killed the man, reaching a hand out to the trembling demon. Hesitantly, she had taken it.

"I've been waiting." she hummed, her voice warm and inviting but with a cold sharp under-layer.

It was the voice someone had when they held a knife behind their back, knew they had the trump card, knew they couldn't loose. When he had first met the woman twelve years before, it had pulled him in. There was a curious depth to it he just couldn't help but want to uncover, need to uncover.

"My apologies." he softly replied, "If I had known, I would have come sooner."

Her smile widened, matching his own in its wildness. Sharp teeth, sharp eyes, sharp heart. Every fiber of his being told him to pick an option, fight or flight. He kept it all at bay, there was no other option. Not any more.

"I know." she hummed, taunting him, "You're quiet domesticated now."

There had been a time when her saying something like that might have made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. There had been a time where the word, domesticated, would have meant in love and together, not bound to her side for all eternity.

Now it just made Alastor feel sick to his stomach. Shame rose within him, making his cheeks glow pink. She chuckled at the sight.

"Now that's a sight that never gets old."

"What?"

"The feared Radio Demon, one of the most powerful overlords in all of Hell -- ashamed."

Alastor didn't reply. After a moment, she sighed, pulling herself to her feet. She circled him like a mad dog, like she was stalking prey. He didn't watch her, but his ears twitched, following the sound of her footsteps. She came to a stop behind him.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, clearing his throat.

She reached up, grabbing his shoulders gently in her hands. Even after all this time, all these years, all that had happened, he melted at her touch. That's what five years of building trust, forging love, did. Even if the seven after were hell, even if she had tricked him, betrayed him, time and time again, Alastor couldn't help it. He was weak and pliant beneath her skilled touch.

"What, I can't just check in on my favorite pet?" she asked innocently, rubbing his shoulders gently.

"Y/n..." Alastor sighed, letting his hands fall to his sides, "please, just tell me what you want."

She abruptly stopped in her movements at the sound of her name. It was a rare gift to hear it from someone's lips other than her own. Hell's Hunter Demon didn't share her true name, didn't reveal her face to anyone. It had been part of the trust building, the day she had finally given both to him.

When he had first met her, he had recognized her immediately from the stories. Alastor was on the verge of killing her, adding her voice to the broadcast to prove his power but, seeing the way she shook stopped him. He had smiled to himself, he had thought he had learned a secret about one of the most feared overlords in Hell besides himself. He had thought he had the upper hand.

"Say it again."

"Y/n."

She had been so sweet at first, so docile. He was set on getting her soul, making her subservient. The longer he had lain in wait to enact his little plan, the more he had gotten to know her. Y/n had a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue, she was clever and had a kind side to her that she hid well. It hadn't taken much for him to realize he was falling in love.

That had been terrifying, the first truly scary thing the Radio Demon had encountered since arriving in Hell. It had tortured him for months and he'd consulted every one he knew and trusted on the matter. Finally, Rosie was the one who had convinced him to just tell her, had told him she might feel the same way too. As much as he wanted to blame Rosie for that, Alastor couldn't bring himself to. She hadn't known, they'd both been in the dark, captivated by her sweet austere brilliance.

They had gotten a few happy moments together, a few blissful years. There had been time before she had revealed her true colors and what a lovely time it had been.

A shiver trickled down both their spines in the silence, the sound of his tongue forming the syllables of her name bringing back memories of brighter times. She took her hands from his shoulders, coming to stand before him once again.

Y/n was a book in a language he didn't know, an undeciphered code. Mouth drawn into a thin line, hands daintily placed on her hips, he watched her as she watched him. Unbidden thoughts, unbidden memories, the same ones as always, filtered into his mind. He couldn't help but wonder now, as he had a hundred times before, if it had all truly been a lie. If it had all been some ruse to get what she wanted.

Alastor had to admit, she had gotten him fair and square. Y/n had had him so absolutely wrapped-around-her-pinky-finger in love that she hadn't even been the one to bring up the deal. He had thought he was being sweet, romantic even. It was unfamiliar territory for the man and it had been important. He had fretted over the right way to ask her for weeks.

When he finally had, she was ecstatic at the idea of them joining souls, of giving themselves so fully and completely over to one another. A contract for each of them, an equal exchange.

As a sign of good faith, a mistake he would never be making again, Alastor had offered to go first. When the green smoke had lifted from their clasped hands and he had first caught sight of her face, of her wicked grin, he knew he had fucked up.

Y/n stepped up to him. With a gentle hand, she wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye. Alastor hadn't even realized it had been there, so preoccupied with his own pity. He held his smile strong as she examined the little drop of salt water on her finger, smiling ruefully.

"What do I want from you." she mused softly to herself, "Well, I think I already have everything, wouldn't you agree?"

A green chain materialized in her hand as she spoke, the tear hitting it, melding with the metal as it became solid and she grasped it firmly. With a tug, she sent Alastor to the floor. He fell to his knees harshly, the impact reverberating through his bones.

He had loved her once. Now, looking up at her, he loved her still. He was a fool, through and through. Not because of his persisting love but because of his persisting hope, the fact that he had trusted her. The fact that he still trusted her. The fact that after everything, it somehow still made him the slightest bit joyful to see Y/n smiling and know he was the cause.

More than anything, he wanted to ask her if she regretted what had happened, what she had done. Alastor held his tongue. Even if she was, it was too late. There was no point in asking.

"I can't keep doing this." was what he chose to say instead, his voice was barley more than a whisper.

Y/n's smile fell, her eye brows raised as she crouched down in front of him, pulling the chain tight between them. She delicately placed a finger beneath his chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

"It doesn't matter. You will."

He knew she was right. Curse or no curse, he would come when she called.

"What can I do for you?" he asked again, his tone resolute.

"You can burn."

And burn he did.

There was a reason Alastor had avoided intimacy, it was because he had been afraid of it. A secret part of him had always yearned, a secret part that even now still felt fulfilled at her gentle touch. All along, he had been right that love would destroy him. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that it would have happened in this way or, that after everything, he would still care for the woman in question, his captor.

"Ask me again." she commanded.

"What can I do for you?"

He had been naïve, a fool.

"You can rot for all I care. Ask me again."

He was a fool still. A fool in love, a fool destroyed.

"What can I do for you?"

His breaths were labored, his heart open and bloodied. Y/n held it in the palms of her hands, given willingly. She radiated power crouched before him, holding his head close to hers with the chain.

"You can obey. Will you?"

"Yes."

The metal, cold and heavy, tugged against his neck, bruising the bone of his spine.

"For how long?"

"Forever."

There was no hesitation in his voice. A smile split her face in two, wicked and hungry.

"Good."

[wingedhallows]

we'll be family; sirius black

pairing: sirius black x reader | 1.6k words plot: sirius is finally back and your godson is as well. You're determined to finally be a family, no one will come between, you're determined. prompt: "we'll be family" authors note:I hope you like it, there might be another part :)

navigation | part two

“The food is incredible, Molly.” you smiled at the red haired woman. A couple of humms agreeing with you as you continued to devour the bowl of food. “I’m glad, hun.”

Your hand was entangled with his, shoulder to shoulder. 

Sirius had broken out of Azkaban a few months ago, you’d been inseparable ever since. Albus had let you finally and officially meet your godson, not that you haven’t seen him before.

The old wizard had forbidden you to take him, he had deemed you unfit to take care of an infant when Lily and James were killed and Sirius was sent to Azkaban. You complied all those years ago, not that you didn’t go down without a fight.

“Harry, love, we’ll get all of your things tomorrow morning, alright?” you spoke, his head snapping to you. He gave you a small smile and nodded. “I’ll come with you, no worries.” Your hand found his and his smile widened a tad. “Alright.” Harry had run away in a fit of anger, with good reason, you thought.

That old hag had it coming. You slightly waved your hand and the jug of water hovered over the table towards you. You were one of few wizards who were able to do magic without a wand. Making you a great asset to the Order.

Sirius tensed up, you knew well that the wrongful accusations still hurt him and how annoyed he was that he was practically bound to the house he most hated.

“Alright, all kids out!” Alastor spoke as he made his way into the kitchen. “We’ll start the meeting!” he continued. Molly ushered the children out before Harry turned to you. Sirius's hand had found its way across your back and held your waist while the other gently stroked your shoulder. 

Oh, how you had missed this, missed him.

“I want to stay, Y/N.” Harry whispered as he held onto your hand. Sirius didn’t intervene, he had made his point an hour ago. “Go on now, Harry.” Molly pushed him gently and you rose to your feet. “I’d like Harry to stay.” You said.

Severus who just arrived scoffed at you, lips in a snarl as he opened his mouth. You held on to Harry and ushered him to take a seat just like yourself.

“He’s got you under such a tight grip, just like all those years ago.” You rolled your eyes at him and propped your head onto your hand in boredom. “Like calls to like, I guess.”

He paused and the hand your husband had around your back tensed, your eyebrows shut up in anger. “Black’s been a lovesick fool without an opinion even in his school days, it was only a matter of time for you as well, Y/N.” 

Your face converted into the cold mask you knew too well, the fork in your hand clutched tightly as you, without a thought, apparated just across the table. Sirius had gone through a lot during your school days, his parents were absolute monsters and your love kept him above water all those years. To badmouth your connection, the shared pain and sorrow was unheard for.

 Without as much as a huff you pointed the fork to Severus’ neck, his eyes wide.

“I might be all smiley, happy even because after twelve years of a sentence he didn’t deserve, I finally have my husband back you better don’t forget that I’m a Slytherin as well, dear Snivellus.” You leaned down, eyes boring into his. “I’ll end you just like the little worm you are, if you dare insult my husband once more.”  “Any more comments to add?” he gulped and avoided your eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

Without another word you apparated right back into your chair, the slight squeak from the old chair the only sound in the room. “What was that?” Kingsley spoke. You didn’t think too much of it. Your friends have known since school, even Albus and Minerva knew. It was no secret that wandless magic was your expertise.

“You’ve mastered wandless magic?” Kingsley spoke again, your eyes found Harry’s, who tried to hide a laugh. Your outburst towards his most hated teacher filling him with joy. “I had a lot of time.” You huffed, the filled cup found its way to your painted lips.

Your hands found their way to your lover. His lips connected with your neck as your fingers played with the back of his neck. “You’re breathtaking when you’re angry.” He whispered in your ear before pressing a light kiss onto your cheek. “Oh, how I love you, Sirius.” you smiled into the kiss.

The meeting had gone by quickly after you all agreed to let Harry join the next meeting. Albus claimed that he had to think about it thoroughly, since it wasn’t a light choice to make. Sirius and You stood with your opinion, there was no time to waste, you thought.

“Here they are.” you smiled before grabbing a pile of dusted old books. They were in fact photo albums. “I haven’t seen those in years.” Sirius spoke behind you, his hands tucked into his trousers. “I want Harry to have them.” you gave him a kiss and made your way out of your bedroom. Sirius had given you a nod and settled on the bed without another word.

You knocked on the room the kids slept in. Harry, Hermoine and Ron had agreed to share a bedroom. There was a slight rumble before you opened the door with a squeak. You tried to suppress a laugh, of course they were still awake.

A snort escaped you as you flicked on the light. “Stop pretending to be asleep, you lot aren’t good at it.” Harry rose first and gave you an uncomfortable laugh. Hermoine and Ron joined him shortly after. “Sorry, we were supposed to-”Oh, please. You’re old enough to sleep when you feel like it.” You waved him off, the three visibly relaxed. 

“I came because.. I wanted to give you these.” You held out your hands. Your godson got up from his bed and joined you on the floor. His friends joined you as well. “What are these?” He asked. You gave him a smile and opened the first one. “These are our years at Hogwarts.” 

The first page was graced with a group photo of Lily, James, Remus, Peter, Sirius and You. You all held onto your graduation caps, wide smiles on your faces. “This was right after graduation, but there are pictures of all seven years.” 

A small smile formed on your face as you watched how James had tried to stretch his arms over all of you, how Lily leaned into James’ side with a wide smile. Remus had his arms around Sirius and You, your hand on Sirius chest as he pressed a kiss onto your head.

Harry stared at you with wide eyes. “I was determined to document our time together.” you paused and flipped to another page. “This was after your mother had finally agreed to go out with your father, we were all so happy that James’ yapping would stop now. He was insufferable, really.” 

In the picture was James as he held Lily in his arms, smiling wide. Remus, Sirius and You stood next to them shaking your heads. Sirius had his hand in yours and your other arm was propped up on Remus' shoulder who had sat down onto a tiny wall. 

Harry chuckled and you flipped to another page. “This was when your parents asked us to be your godparents.” you looked at the picture. How the shock spread onto your faces before you smothered baby Harry in a kiss. Sirius stroked Harry’s cheek and settled a kiss on your cheek. You’ll never forget the warmth that spread through you as they asked you, how much love warmed the place that night.

“Take your time looking through them.” You paused and raised your hands to Harry’s cheeks. Oddly enough it felt like all those years ago, when you used to hold little Harry in your hands. “I know Sirius and Me are not your parents and…we’ll never be but, I’ll try my best to be anything close to the mother Lily never got the chance to be.” A tear made its way down Harry’s cheek and you quickly wiped it. “I love you, Harry. We’ll be a family now.”

You gave Hermoine and Ron a stroke to their cheeks as well and left them alone. Before you were out the door you spoke once again. “You can ask me anything about them whenever you want, I’ll gladly answer your questions.There are so many great stories about them.” he nodded and got to his feet. 

Within seconds he had his arms around you, his face buried in your neck. You held him, stroked his back in a comforting manner. “Thank you, Y/N. I love you too.” He raised his head and you wiped the tears once again. 

“Your parents would be more than proud of you, Harry. Such a lovely young man you’ve become.” you planted a kiss on his forehead and left the kids alone.

Sirius was still awake, a book clasped in his hand as he looked at you through his reading glasses. “Are you cryin’?” he said, book long forgotten as he sat on the edge of the bed. You nodded and embraced him in a tight hug, your head rested on his chest. “I showed him some pictures of all of us.” He planted a kiss on your temple. “Oh.” was all he said.

“I miss them.” you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek. “Me too.” he answered.

[ash5monster01]

I would love prompt #1 with Steve Harrington! Pretty please 🫶🏻

Wrong Address

Valentines Celebration Prompt

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, language, miscommunication, instant connection

1. Three dozen roses have just been delivered to your door on accident, in attempts to find the sender and correct the mistake, you discover you might have just found your match.

word count: 1.5k

Masterlist

While running late for work, the last thing you expect to do is nearly trip over three dozen roses sat outside your apartment door. Shock is what hits you first considering you couldn’t think of a single person who would be sending these to you. Especially today. Being late is no longer on your mind as you bend to grab the note sat perfectly in the center of the most gorgeous bouquet you have ever seen.

Robin,

I’ll always be your Valentine if you need one xoxo

Steve Harrington

Professor - University of Chicago

Realizing the flowers aren’t for you, sadness washes through you. Sighing you accept being late is just what’s going to happen today. Collecting all the flowers you walk to the phone on your wall and dial your work number. Lisa your boss is understanding when you say you won’t be in for a few hours and to take the day if you need. So with damaged pride and defeat, you hail a cab with enough roses to make you look crazy, and find yourself on the way to University of Chicago.

It takes twelve wrong turns and three employees to finally point you in the direction of Steve Harrington’s office. You prepare yourself for a balding middle aged man when you knock on the door but instead a young boy with dough eyes and fluffy hair surprises you. Confusion covers his face first as you give him a sheepish smile, a little bewildered because he was cute and you were holding three dozen roses outside his workspace.

“Sadly I’m not Robin, but I do appreciate the gesture” you say with a shrug that lifts the three bouquets in your arm. Realization finally paints his face as his looks at you.

“Shit, she is always yelling at me about not writing down her apartment number. I should have listened” he says, sultry voice wrapping around your heart and squeezing.

“It’ll be our secret, I promise I won’t tell” you say, lifting the flowers his way which he immediately moves to grab. The electric shock that vibrates through you due to his touch is surprising.

“A trustworthy stranger, my favorite kind” he says with a grin, red petals now tickling the bottom of his chin.

“I couldn’t just leave them, it’s Valentines Day after all. She’s a lucky girl” you offer and the boy is instantly shaking his head at your sentence.

“Oh, it’s not like that. She’s my best friend and she just got her ass dumped. I was just doing my part” he says quickly and the blush that covers your face surprises you both.

“I don’t know if that makes me like you more or intimidates me” you finally say, a rush of confidence spiking your heart rate.

“Maybe you’d like to decide over a cup of coffee?” he suggests and the smile that covers your face answers the question for you.

“I’d like that” you say and he nods, turning to dump the roses on top of his desk and quickly step out into the hallway with you as he shuts and locks his door.

“Thank you by the way. Not many people would’ve taken the time to find the correct owner” Steve says after a beat, wringing his hands together as you exit the building and step out onto campus.

“You’re welcome, kinda helped you signed it with your job title as well” you say with a chuckle and the realization that you know his name and he doesn’t know yours comes quickly.

“Shit I’m sorry, I should properly introduce myself. I’m Steve and you are?” his big eyes glance over into your own and you can’t stop the blush that covers your cheeks as you repeat your name back to him.

“What do you teach?” you ask after a moment and Steve smiles, his hand reaching up and running through his messy locks.

“Sports History” he says with a soft chuckle like he can’t even believe it himself. “Not really the most noble profession but it pays the bills I suppose” he says, a bit embarrassed. After all the chaos in Hawkins he found himself at community college doing a degree that didn’t bore him and somehow he ended up here.

“I wouldn’t say that. I mean you’re a professor. You’re teaching people no matter the subject” you offer and the soft smile that covers his face shows his appreciation towards you.

“I hope you don’t mind campus coffee” he finally says, nodding towards a small building that you’re happy to go in.

“Coffee is coffee” you agree as he holds open the door. After giving him your order you find a small table for you both, being careful not to glance up at him too much.

“What made you get into teaching?” you ask when he returns, warm cup of coffee now placed in your hand.

“The kids. Back home I was friends with this group of kids and as much as I pretended I didn’t, I adored them. When I planned to move away there was something comforting about the idea of spending time with people their age” he says and somehow this perfect stranger becomes even more perfect.

“Where is home?” you find yourself asking and he smiles, reminiscing on a place he hadn’t been in a very long time.

“Small town Hawkins, Indiana. Me and Robin moved out here a few years back and I landed the job at the University” he explains, taking a sip of his own coffee and glancing up at you.

“That’s sweet, you two have been friends that long?” the suggestion in your voice isn’t masked well, it’s just surprising to hear of opposite gender friends and not assume there are some sort of feelings there.

“Since I was eighteen. We never go anywhere without each other, especially when we moved here. She only recently moved out to live with her girlfriend, the one who thought it’d be cool to dump her right before Valentine’s day” and suddenly it all makes sense. The kind gesture, three dozen roses, saying he would always be her Valentine, how there was no shared feelings between the two.

“That sucks. You’re a good friend for trying to cheer her up” you say, now smiling at the idea of there being a man out there caring enough to send three dozen roses to his friend who had her heart broken.

“Yeah, which I guess now that my office hours for the day are over I better hand deliver the flowers” he says, laughing to himself for writing down the wrong address. Then again it would’ve never led you to him.

“I probably should be heading home anyway” you mutter, a bit disappointed that he was already thinking of leaving you behind. You must’ve not left the same impression that he did on you.

“I can drive you, if you like. After all you live in her building” and the offer has you perking up like an excited puppy dog.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind?” you grin and he smiles right back, taking another sip of his coffee.

“I don’t mind at all” so you find yourself in his old maroon BMW, still in pristine condition, with the flowers collected from his office now on your lap. You laugh when he tells you it’s his same car from high school and the more you find out about him the more charming he becomes.

“What floor?” you ask him in the elevator, giggling at his rose filled arms.

“4th” he mutters out, shifting and then sneezing from the flowers in his face.

“Well Romeo, try not to send them to the 3rd next time” you say, referring to your own floor and he chuckles as the doors close and lift you up. When the doors open on you floor you go to step forward before noticing he is following you.

“Oh, sorry. This is my stop, one more floor for you” you say and a sad look crosses his face quickly.

“Oh, I guess I just figured you’d deliver them with me” he says with a soft chuckle and you look at the sweet boy who had managed to crawl his way into your heart within the last hour.

“This feels like something you should do alone but hey, I’m not going anywhere all day and it’s Valentine’s after all. So if Robin is willing to share, you know where to find me” you say with a grin, stepping towards him and planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Does seven work?” he asks with red cheeks as you step into the hall and you flash him a quick smile.

“It’s a date” and the elevator doors shut close, lifting him away and leaving you with a dopey grin.

Who would have thought three dozen roses not meant for you would still turn out to be the best Valentines gift you ever got.

[siempre-bucky]

hi!!! i love your writing so much! could i request (for blurb weekend) 12 and 42 from the first prompt list, for hangman?? tysm, hope you have a great weekend <3

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: The team is traveling to a spring getaway upstate and when you notice the wildflowers in full bloom you ask a grumpy Jake to pull over.

twelve: rolling down the window of the car

forty two: realising their feelings

WC: 964

A/n: I hope you like it!!!!

Join my blurb weekend!

He called him Slow Ride for a reason. Jake had been following behind the bronco for a good five miles with no way to pass on the busy highway. The blond had a grip so tight on the steering wheel his knuckles were turning white; he’d rip the wheel clean off if it weren’t for you beside him. Your giggles weren’t for the video you were looking at, you were laughing at him. 

Mav and Ice had the bright idea to rent a cabin or two up north and let their team relax in the fresh spring air. Jake agreed it was a good idea in the beginning; go on a couple of hikes with his best friend, tease Natasha and Callie about the bugs, and shove Bradley into the lake (a few times). He just wanted to get there—not stuck behind Bradshaw. 

“Your face is going to freeze that way,” you teased from the passenger seat, shimmying to make yourself comfortable in his truck. You shifted your gaze in time to see him release his death drip, the color returning to his strong hands. A victorious smile graced your lips, Jake frowned deeper. “What’s wrong with you, Grumpy? You were all giddy and shit when you picked me up this morning.” 

“Jus’ want to get there,” he sighed, taking one hand off the wheel to scrub his face in an attempt to shake it off. 

You rolled your eyes, you’d always thought he could learn a thing or two from Rooster. Stop and smell the roses, the whole nine yards! For as long as you’d known your friend he was always moving at a fast pace, not taking the time to rest. He was just as fast on land as he was in the air. While in your thoughts, you looked out the freshly washed window and watched the lush green hills come toward you. Spring has been kind to them. 

The green became spotted with bright purples and oranges as they came closer into view. Your lips parted in awe, it was wildflower season. “Jake!” You exclaim suddenly, jolting in your seat and turning your attention to the passenger side window. The flowers were coming and you didn’t want to miss a moment. 

“What!” He gasped, looking down at his gauges. Did he hit something? Was he getting a flat tire? Smoke? The aviator within him switched on, pressing buttons to quickly check everything and not hit the Bronco in front of him. His heart started to thump in his chest, not my baby, he thought about the beloved black pickup. The panic turned into annoyance like he was splashed with ice water. 

“Roll down the windows!” You instruct, blindly slapping at his arm. 

A long string of curses left his lips but he yielded and soon enough the floral breeze entered the cabin. You breathed it in, turning your nose up to the air. Jake lightly pressed on the brake, giving Rooster more room. Letting out a sigh, you looked over to see Jake looking back at you. You noticed the way his hair blew in the wind without any gel in it and how the sun hit his features just right. His green eyes looked prettier than the hills in the sun. Then he smiled and a sudden pang hit your heart. You never noticed his smile when he was relaxed. 

Oh. 

You ignored the feelings and memories that all started to connect and looked out at the hills, noticing a flat area up ahead. “Pull over! We should look at the flowers, they won’t be like this for long!” 

“We’ll lose them,” he complained, fighting back a childish whine. Your eyes narrowed as did his, locked in a bitter battle. 

“We have GPS,” you stated evenly, shifting towards him. “Don’t let Iceman—Admiral Kazanzky, US Pacific Fleet Commander find out you were mean to me on a bonding trip.” 

You baited him like a fish. 

His eyes narrowed more, “They underestimate you,” he deadpanned before loudly flipping on the blinker and pulling over to the side of the road. 

You hopped out of the truck and it felt like the opening to The Sound of Music. You twirled in the wildflowers, letting the breeze hit your face as you stopped in the middle of the small field. There were a few others, lying in the flowers and taking photos. As they should, you thought to yourself. 

Jake grumbled to himself as he got out and stepped over the wood barricade dividing the road and the grass. He sent a text to Javy letting him know about the detour as he walked through the field, being mindful of the delicate orange flowers below him. He looked up just in time to see you trip over something and fall onto your back. “Shit,” he whispered, picking up the pace. 

He calmed once he heard your giggles, he let out a breath and looked down, covering you from the sun. “How can you fly a plane but not walk?” he teased, holding out his hand to help you up. You rolled your eyes and stood, slightly falling into his space from the pull. 

Jake looked at you as you stepped back, noticing your smile and the few blades of grass stuck in your hair. Absentmindedly, he reached and gently pulled them out for you. Your eyes opened wider and your eyebrows creased in subtle shock. His gaze focused, seeing you amongst the beauty of spring. “You’d be surprised at what I can do,” you joked, bending down to pick up one of the orange flowers, holding it out to him as you returned to full height. 

His eyes never left you. He took the flower and a rosy blush overtook his cheeks. 

Oh.

[wooahaes]

under the sun [s.coups]

pairing: non-idol!s.coups x gn!reader

prompt: darl+ing inspired fic.

word count: 19.7k~

warnings: mentions of alcohol + food. depictions of illness (fever), some angst (all with a happy ending). skinship. talks of insecurities. mentions of a fight.

daisy’s notes: hi. i love him. i hope you do, too.

<day 3 || masterlist ||

summary: It all starts when you wake up in a field without a name or any memories to define yourself with. Thirteen men take you in as one of their own, and slowly you begin to wonder what is going on within this world… and between you and one of them.      

There was a smudge of yellow paint on the collar of the shirt Seungcheol wore last night, and he’d been staring at it far too long.

Last night marked the first full month that Chan had been living with them, and with that came yet another celebration. With that, came tiny accidents: a spilled drink, a broken glass that’d be swept away, and paint on his shirt that stood out against the white fabric. This was from Chan: Seungcheol was sure of that. He’d been a little drunk on wine, and he’d bumped into him with a freshly painted cheek (two roses: one red, one yellow). The guy had mumbled his apologies to Seungcheol, asking if it was fine, and Seungcheol had merely said it was before he nudged him back toward the group. As much as he’d grown to enjoy these celebrations and the moments coming right before and after them, he’d felt the excitement wear off throughout the night. And now, in the morning after all of the fun, meant work was coming once more. Clean-up, laundry, food for the hungover men he lived among… All the hard parts that came after tasting the sweet ichor of true, unabashed freedom for a night. He’d already seen how Seungkwan and Hansol disappeared from their beds sometime in the morning—likely on a morning walk that Seungkwan, hungover, refused to go on alone. No matter: chores would still get done at some point throughout the day. Seungcheol always went easy on anyone feeling too nauseous (himself included).

Mingyu was awake by the time Seungcheol had finished his (long) shower—he needed the hot water to help him clear his head—and was already working on making breakfast. He’d made some comment to the elder about how Chan was definitely hungover as hell, but that he’d help take care of him and anyone else feeling sick. He’d paused for a moment and asked if Seungcheol, too, needed something, only to be waved off. Seungcheol was fine: he hadn’t drank much that night. Maybe another night he would have indulged himself for the fun of it, but this time things felt… off in a strange sense. He merely said he’d go look and see if he could see Hansol and Seungkwan coming back from their walk together. Seungcheol would gauge if he needed to make another last second chore adjustment for the two once he saw them.

(Truthfully, Seungcheol didn’t expect anyone to be up early… Aside from maybe Jihoon, who rarely drank because his body hated it, and Wonwoo, who passed up drinking after Soonyoung fully announced his intentions to let loose. Someone would need to help corral the entire group back in, and Wonwoo was okay with helping.)

Seungcheol enjoyed quiet mornings, though. He liked the peace when he got it, since living with twelve other men meant that it was rarely too quiet for long. That wasn’t to say he disliked the noise (Seungcheol preferred it to silence, that much was certain), but there was something comforting about being able to take each morning as it came. He embraced it with open arms like it was an old friend. Sometimes he would find Minghao outside on mornings like those, meditating as the sun rose. It was rare, but sometimes Seungcheol would join him when he needed that time to clear his head (and though he rarely admitted it, Minghao clearly appreciated it: the two of them seemed to rarely share quiet moments like that, not when the others were awake at least). He would watch the pale blue sky, back pressed against the church’s wall until his eyelids drifted shut. On rare occasions, he’d doze off for a moment or two, and always be greeted with an airy “Cheol?” from Mingaho, whose giggle colored his voice more vibrant than any painting that stained the walls of their home. 

“Cheol.” 

With a hum, Seungcheol opened his eyes, not realizing his mind had wandered as he waited for the two to return. Wonwoo had stepped outside, blonde strands of his hair falling into his eyes. He ran a hand through them to brush them back, blinking in the sunlight as his eyes adjusted. Then he looked around, realizing that he heard and saw no one but Seungcheol. 

“They’re not back yet?”

Seungcheol shook his head, leaning back against the wall again. “Seungkwan drank a lot.”

There was a hint of a smile on Wonwoo’s lips, and he stepped over into the space next to him. He leaned back against the wall. “So did Seokmin. Mingyu’s taking care of him now,” he tucked his hands into his pockets. “He looks rough. Soonyoung’s still asleep.”

The fact almost made Seungcheol chuckle: Soonyoung always let loose more than anyone else at these celebrations. “Jihoon will wake him up.” He watched the fields ahead. “Is everyone else awake?”

Wonwoo nodded. “Chan’s barely awake, but Jeonghan’s taking care of him.”

Seungcheol had assumed so. Jeonghan always watched over the others so lovingly, always so warm and loving (when he wasn’t toying with them a little, just to spice up life a bit more). It was reassuring, to be honest, to know that Jeonghan (and Joshua) would always be there if something were to happen to him. Seungcheol could practically hear the way he was surely teasing Chan now: he shouldn’t have drank so much if he didn’t want to feel so badly the next day. Did he remember how Jeonghan had to beg him to come to bed? The thought tugged at the corners of Seungcheol’s mouth. Jeonghan would tease him further, too: Chan was lucky that they were all so understanding and they always slept in on the day following a celebration like this. 

(Not that missing a day of work was the end of the world, of course. But with thirteen people living together in one space… things could get messy if they didn’t resume the routine quickly.)

“How are you feeling?” Wonwoo asked. “You seemed… different last night.”

Seungcheol had hoped he’d masked that well enough, and yet Wonwoo seemed to see through him. Did the others? He’d surely hear from them if they noticed. “I was tired from setting up,” he lied, and looked around. “It’s been a while since they left,” he said. “Go check down by the river to see if maybe they’re resting,” he pushed off from the wall, “I’ll start checking the fields—”

“Seungcheol!” 

Seungkwan had run up, clearly out of breath by the time he approached the two. He caught himself on the nearby wall, panting heavily as Seungcheol made his way over to him. The moment he could, he started babbling between intakes of air about how he and Hansol had left for a walk because he needed the fresh air (and, just as Seungcheol assumed, he didn’t want to go alone). That they always would walk by the river, but it’d been Hansol’s idea to wander the fields for a bit this time, and he’d gone along with it—

“Is Hansol okay?” Seungcheol spoke over him, “Why isn’t he with you?”

Seungkwan had stopped him, a hand on his chest, “There’s someone new,” and he pointed back with his other hand. “We just–We found them lying in the grass. They didn’t wake up, and—and I came back to get you because you’d know what to do and say and—”

Seungcheol did. He always did. He’d done this so many times before. He looked to Wonwoo, “Go gather the others.”

With a single nod, Wonwoo turned on his heel and rushed back inside. Seungcheol turned back to Seungkwan, and he already knew what was coming, taking his hand to guide him back to the fields. He’d started rambling again now that he’d caught his breath, saying that the two of them hadn’t meant to go so far from the church. They had meant to be back by now, especially because Seungkwan had been getting hungry, but maybe it was a good idea that Hansol wanted to wander a little farther. 

The night before, Seungcheol had stood outside and watched the stars with Chan. He’d seen a shooting star overhead, and maybe that had been why he didn’t rest so easy last night. He had traced the arc with his eyes, and it looked as though it would have landed out in the fields. Right in this direction, right where Seungkwan was guiding him with his fingers interlaced with his so casually. He had to wonder if a shooting star always fell through the sky before every person came there, or if this time was different.

Seungcheol had seen Hansol before he ever saw you, the bright colors of his sweater standing out against the pale yellow grass. He’d been on his knees, his back to the others as he gently spoke to you. Yet when Seungcheol saw your face for the first time, he felt… something. As though something had finally clicked into place, although he hadn’t known what. 

You looked afraid. The same way everyone did at first, to be fair, but it’d been the first thing he noticed about you. So Seungcheol decided to call that feeling, the one he didn’t know, a need to protect you in the same way he needed to protect the others. It felt… better, even if this idea didn’t fully fit what he was feeling. 

Seungkwan had called Hansol’s name, and Seungcheol continued on, as you had captured every thought. Calm you down. Just like the others. They weren’t going to hurt you. None of them would ever dream of actually hurting one another. It’s okay. It’s okay. You were safe. Seungcheol would promise that a thousand times over it was what you needed to hear in order to calm down. You didn’t speak when he asked if you were okay. Could you speak? It was okay if you couldn’t. They’d find a way to communicate, they’d learn whatever signs you needed. Hansol had drifted back, giving the two of you a little space to keep you from feeling too crowded now.

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol said as gently as he could. As though you were a rabbit that would bolt at any second. He had offered his hand to you, and he gently pushed it toward you again. “We can help you.” 

You’re just like us. Seungcheol soon enough had calmed you down, and you’d come into his arms—although it wasn’t fully intentional. The headache had hit you already, and he knew Jihoon could help take care of you once he brought you back home, at least long enough for you to gather yourself and make a decision about what you wanted to do. Whether that meant staying or going, he needed to get you out of the open and somewhere you could rest. Seungcheol gently stroked your back, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. You don’t have to be alone anymore, he wanted to tell you… Yet he didn’t know why. You’d just woken up, hadn’t you? It wasn’t as though you’d been alone long… Right?

He instead told the others to go on back, and that they needed to make room for you. Whether that meant just for a night or for however long you decided to stay, the decision was yours, but they still needed to make that space for you. Seungcheol could give you shelter, food, a community, but he understood the importance that having your own space meant to someone. Even if it was only for a day or two, it would be yours and it would always be yours until no one was there to preserve it for you. Everyone had a space to themselves for a reason, and you would be no different.

When you finally drew away from him, the headache apparently waning off, you faced him and the sunlight again. He saw something familiar in your eyes, although he didn’t know what it was. All he could do was reach up, brushing away a strand of grass that had stuck to your face. 

“We’ll take care of you,” he promised. It was all he could do, and he’d be sure to keep it just as he always did.

He’d later leave you in Chan’s capable hands, as though it was his right to pass on the knowledge he’d gained over his past month onto you. Hansol had taught him, Seungkwan had taught Hansol, and the cycle continued on—even Jeonghan had taught Joshua the ropes when he first came. Seungcheol dubbed you “Mouse” after how quiet you’d been on the entire walk back (aside from your tiny, one-word answers), and it felt a little fitting. Had you objected to it, they would have come up with something better, something you liked. He’d barely seen Jeonghan for a moment before he had wandered back off, having arrived late (unnoticed by you, Seungcheol was sure, as Jeonghan had hung far enough back that no one really noticed his absence when the person of interest had been you). He trusted that Jeonghan would greet you later, since he skipped out on the introductions, apparently with his own plans.

(Seungcheol found him shortly after he turned everyone loose, leaving you with Chan for a tour of everything. He’d found Jeonghan with gray fabric he’d found, scissors set beside him as he looked through buttons of various sizes. He’d drawn out some pattern, and was far more focused on his project to notice Seungcheol as he left him to work.)

“Cheol?” Joshua had found him that night, sitting up in the church as he gazed out the open window. “Everyone’s waiting to talk.” Seungcheol had turned to see Jeonghan was a few steps behind him, and Joshua stepped forward, “You alright?”

Seungcheol drew away from the window, letting the curtain fall back into place as he stood up. “I just needed a few minutes to think.”

“Mouse was asleep earlier,” Jeonghan said. “I don’t think you need to worry about them tonight. Poor thing’s exhausted.” 

But what if you were gone in the morning? Seungcheol felt his stomach twist in fear. You were so new to this. What if you took off without being prepared? If you wanted to leave, all he wanted was for you to have both the supplies to survive and the knowledge that you could come back to them if you needed to. “I didn’t sleep well my first night here,” he said. “Most people don’t.” 

“You were alone,” Jeonghan didn’t hesitate to point out. “They aren’t.” 

Weren’t you? Sleeping on your own was different from what most of them did. Seungcheol knew that he savored the first night that Jeonghan slept back-to-back with him, neither of them admitting how deeply they needed one another’s company. In Seungcheol’s mind, they never had to: they had each other, which was more than what Seungcheol had when he first woke up. Seungcheol remembered the few who slept alone the first night they came, though. Wonwoo, who had wanted the space to think about whether he was going to stay; Jihoon, who only joined the group with the promise that no one would get too close to him (although that fell with time, as he often fell asleep with Soonyoung’s arm draped over him now, or with Seokmin hugging him tight); Minghao, who was too quiet and too afraid to trust anyone so soon (he joined that second night, though: Junhui befriended him with ease, and he felt safe enough to curl up next to him); and Hansol, who’d given up on wanting that space when the silence of sleeping alone began to unnerve him a little too much as someone new to this world. No one liked sleeping alone for a reason now, and Seungkwan had explained it the best during his first night.

“I want to be alone,” he had said, “because I… I don’t trust you. I don’t know any of you. But I’d rather take a chance trusting that you won’t hurt me than be scared something else will come all night.”

(He had told him nothing would come, he was sure, but that hadn’t changed his mind at all. He merely agreed that it was silly, but his need for a sense of community was stronger than anything else, and he turned over to cuddle close to Seokmin without another word.)

Yet you, like few others, had stayed in your bed alone. How could Seungcheol not worry when you were so quiet, too? He calmed himself, though: Minghao eventually opened up. He hoped you would, too, with time.

“Don’t worry so much,” Joshua said. “They’re fine. I’ll take them out tomorrow and we’ll talk. Today’s only their first day.” 

At his half-hearted nod, Joshua had let out a sigh and excused himself to go get ready for bed. He’d check on you along the way, too, to see if you’d fallen asleep (he was sure you would be: Jeonghan said you looked exhausted). Yet Seungcheol’s mind was running wild with various thoughts, the way it always did when someone new came. It wasn’t until Jeonghan cleared his throat that Seungcheol looked up, realizing he hadn’t left with Joshua as his gaze flickered back to his friend’s face.

“I know we just celebrated Chan,” he said, looking around at the newly-cleaned church, “but… maybe we should come together as a community.” He shifted his weight from leg to leg, unsure of whether to continue on. Yet his eyes met Seungcheol’s again. “They don’t feel welcome, I think. They asked if the others distrust them.” 

Of course they do, Seungcheol thought, cruel as it might be. You were new. How were they supposed to trust someone so quickly? “And?”

“I told them the truth,” Jeonghan said. “There’s no point in lying. You know that.” 

Right. Seungcheol knew it’d take a few days for people to warm up to you more, at least. Jihoon had only deviated from his habit of taking time to trust people when he met Hansol, strangely adoring him almost instantly. Minghao typically kept to himself after Seungkwan, Hansol, and Chan came—although he’d warmed up to them with time, surely. And Wonwoo… Well, Wonwoo didn’t dislike you. He merely liked to observe people in the beginning, just to get a better read on them. Most people liked you, though:  Chan already cared for you (Seungcheol attributed it to the fact that he was happy to have another new person around), and he had the feeling that both Hansol and Seungkwan were growing more fond of you, too. 

No big celebration. But… “We could put together a fire,” Seungcheol mused aloud, wandering past Jeonghan with the intention of heading to bed—to speak with the others, since that was what they were waiting to do. “Play games, eat dinner outside…” 

“I’ll break out the paints again,” Jeonghan had said with a smile, falling into step beside him. “Keep Mouse involved. I’ll tell Joshua in the morning, so he can distract them while we tell everyone the plan.”

Seungcheol agreed to the plan easily enough, expecting for it to be a surefire way to involve you further. Yet when he came to bed, he already could hear a conversation about you flying. Chan had been excited, happily chatting you up to the others while saying that it was nice to have another person like him around. Seungkwan had rolled his eyes, saying that you were nothing like Chan considering how quiet you were, which led to Mingyu casually defusing it before it could become an argument (he merely pulled Seungkwan into his arms with a laugh, shifting the topic easily enough). Joshua had engaged in the conversation, too, reminding the others not to crowd you too much tomorrow. 

It was nice to see that they already cared for you, even in the smallest ways: in taking an interest in you, while still trying to give you your space while you made a decision. He’d settled into the conversation, too, with the reminders he always gave when someone new came: to not push you, first and foremost. All of them knew the struggle of remembering their names and more, and asking too many questions always brought about a slight fever at the very least (Jeonghan could attest to that for sure). Like the world was warning them in a weird way, and the risk was too much to keep pushing at those boundaries. Seungcheol only wanted to provide a home for you, the same he always did, yet he could feel… something beginning to take hold within his heart. He decided to call that warmth a sense of kinship with you, rather than a shorter word that choked him up despite rolling off his tongue with ease when he spoke to the others. He didn’t know why he felt it so soon, truthfully, but he could feel it in his being: they’re like you.

All of them were, in a way. That was what Seungcheol always thought. The lost memories, and the way most of them lacked a name when they first woke up. So what made you so different so soon? He couldn’t be sure. Yet something in his chest began to stir when he thought of you, this new need to get to know you better growing stronger by the second. Like you would be the missing piece to everything, and now it was finally his turn to figure out what that empty space was.

Within those first few days, Seungcheol had set some facts into stone. He felt something for you: that much was certain. It wasn’t love, though. It couldn’t be love; not this soon. Seungcheol was certain that if it was truly love, he would have fallen for you harder and faster than any person should. Infatuation didn’t fit the feeling any better, either, and it left him frustrated when his mind kept wandering back to that four-letter word he’d already crossed out.

He settled on intrigue instead, but noted it not to be in the romantic way. It was in the same way that Seungcheol was intrigued by everyone who came into his life, and he knew that it would fade in time once he knew more about you. The thing about doing this twelve times before meant that Seungcheol knew himself well enough, and he knew how to care for both himself and the others. He knew he’d end up doting on you in the beginning, just to be sure that you were getting used to this new life among the group. Then things would meld back into the big, warm family that mostly got along fine—just like real families, Seungcheol was sure. Despite the warmth that flooded his chest and the way his heart rate seemed to pick up when you drew too close to him, all Seungcheol needed to do was treat you like everyone else in order to go back to being the leader of this group again. Then he could settle back into being the kind older brother figure most of them knew him as once those feelings were packed away for good. He’d always be that figure, yes, but he needed to take care of everyone. The others looked to him for leadership out of respect for being there the longest, and for being the oldest, too, and he refused to let anyone down. This group of people was all he had in this world. They were all that's left. Seungcheol had long since come to terms with this.

The day after he learned your name, he decided it was time for you to learn. He purposefully set for you to work alongside him in the gardens, just so that he could teach you how to tend to the plants properly while the others were off harvesting what was needed for dinner. They’d get the list from Mingyu while Seungcheol focused on you, and likely harvest a little extra to be preserved for later.

Yet while he sat next to you, he remembered the kiss he had pressed into your hair two nights ago. He’d been gently instructing you on the proper way to prune plants, since it was vital information for everyone to know. He’d taught this to the others time and time again, to the point where this felt like a rite of passage for a person once they decided to stay. His kiss lingered in the back of his mind as you shifted, though, to lean in closer and watch him carefully. All it was was this tiny, chaste thing that he’d done plenty of times with the others, and seen done by the others, and, hell, he received as well (alongside kisses on the cheek or kisses against someone’s neck, punctuated by a warm laugh). And now all he could think about was the way his lips lingered against the top of your head. You were new. He must have crossed a boundary that you were too afraid to speak up about. You were too new for it to feel right, too…

So why did it feel right? 

“You’ll want to cut off the yellow and brown leaves,” Seungcheol said to you, demonstrating slowly so that you could pay full attention to it. His fingers grazed a leaf that was half-way turned yellow. “But not when they’re like this. Wait until they’ve completely turned, and then cut them.” 

You nodded along, taking it all in. Seungcheol felt as though you’d be taking notes now if you had a pencil and some paper. 

“You don’t have to do this often,” he said, “but it’s still important for everyone to know. I’ll teach you more in winter,” he said, “alongside the others.” He’d have to round the four of you up then—Seungkwan knew a little, because he’d come at the tail end of winter, but there was nothing wrong with a refresher course. He reached out, plucking a blackberry free with a loose enough tug. “To know when things are ripe…” He held the berry up, “you just have to learn the different signs.” And then Seungcheol held it out to you, watching you take it. “Tell me what you notice.”

You slowly turned the berry over in your fingers. “It’s… plump,” you said, looking back up, “and dark…” 

“That’s part of it,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “For blackberries,” he took it back from you, “you’ll be able to pull them off easily. They’re not shiny, either.” He popped the berry into his mouth, giving you a cheeky smile as he stood up, rustling your hair. “You’ll mainly know from color and touch.” He watched as you stood up next to him, following him once he left the blackberry bushes. He gestured back to where Jeonghan and Joshua were harvesting fruit from trees. “An apple will be firm. A peach should be slightly soft.” He turned back to you, noticing a stray strand of hair that had fallen into your face, and he reached up to brush it away. “Trust your instincts.”

You blinked once, growing more flustered over the tiny action. “Cheol…” You turned away, hands tucking into your pockets. “Why don’t you all just… harvest everything?”

“We try to stagger it a little,” he said, “even by a day. It’s safer that way. Some things can go back quickly–some more than others–once you pull them off.”

“What about composting?”

Seungcheol smiled a little, vaguely gesturing off toward the church. “Mingyu built us a designated bin for it a while back. Things grow… faster here than they should.” He reached up, adjusting his bucket hat—thankful he’d gotten it before Soonyoung had a chance to steal it again. “I’ve learned not to question it too much. If there’s something out there looking over us, then… I think we’re safer not angering it.” He paused, looking at you, and decided there was no point in hiding the truth. “Jeonghan had a fever once after he did it, back when it was just us and Joshua. It wasn’t bad, but I was still scared he might die. It was like nothing happened to him after those few days, though.”

“So… You don’t question anything anymore?” You raised a brow. 

“We all do,” he said. “Just not too much. I think we’re all scared something bad will happen if we push too much.”

Seungcheol could see that you were watching him again, brows drawing together with a question clearly on your lips. He changed the topic instead, rattling off something about how you would learn more by doing over time rather than letting him teach you every detail. When in doubt, ask the others: he gestured to Jihoon, who’d walked away from the cherry trees with a bag, barely sparing either of you a glance as he continued away. Everyone (Seungcheol made a point of saying) would be there to support you, and they’d rather you ask questions than be confused and do something wrong. Soon enough, you had fallen back into step beside him as he took a small lap around the gardens with you. When you returned to where Jeonghan and Joshua (who, upon seeing the two of you, darted away to get back to his own work) were talking to Chan.

“—He’ll be happy to see you stealing them away from him right when he’s trying to—”

Seungcheol spoke up, now a few steps ahead of you as he knew he needed to put a stop to whatever this conversation was. “What?” He looked up the ladder to Jeonghan, who merely gave him a casual smile, as if he weren���t about to imply something. “What are you talking about now?”

“You’ve been teaching them the basics,” he rolled his eyes, but that devilish smirk stayed put. “Channie wants to play a game with them,” he gestured toward him with his free hand. “You’re done, right?”

Seungcheol looked back at you, about to counter it that he still had plenty to talk to you about. He wasn’t ready to give you up so soon, not when he wanted to maybe learn a little more about you in order to put those feelings to rest.

Yet Jeonghan climbed down before he could answer, “Great!” He then clasped you on the shoulder, already pushing you toward Chan. “Go have fun.” 

You turned back to look at Seungcheol, not moving despite the way Chan took your hand and laced his fingers with yours. Were you looking to him for permission…? Considering Jeonghan had already pushed you, Seungcheol thought that would have been enough. “I’ll teach you the rest later,” he told you. “It’s fine, Mouse.”

And, oh, that smile could turn everything in the garden green over and over again. Chan tugged you onward, hand clasping yours still, as he began to excitedly fill you in on the board game that you’d be playing with him and the others (Hansol and Seungkwan, no doubt: Seungcheol thought those three always seemed to be inseparable as the still-dubbed “newcomers” to this group). He told you that they were inside, setting up the board and pieces while he was tasked with getting you.

Hansol had looked up once you climbed up after Chan, smiling a little as he returned to setting up the board. “Oh. Good, you got them.” But he glanced over to you for a second, “Cheol let you go?”

Chan had already taken your hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze as he brought you over. “Thanks to Jeonghan. We’re teaming up, by the way.”

Seungkwan let out a whine at that, especially when you agreed to it, but then rolled his eyes and said that Hansol was a far better teammate than Chan because he was more trustworthy. If they hadn’t been able to play with you, they would have likely found Soonyoung. He’d been working hard the past few days, apparently, and was likely lazing about for once to catch up on rest. 

(Sure enough, Seungcheol later would find Soonyoung draped across a couch. He’d done more than his share, and now he was tired… although he still had enough energy to tease Jihoon for picking cherries that day. Seungcheol would never understand where that came from, but it was nice to see him taking it easy nonetheless.)

Seungcheol later heard the way you were laughing as he came up, intending to call up that Seokmin had finished lunch if any of you were hungry. He could hear Seungkwan bickering with Chan over some move he must have made, Hansol trying to soothe over things (although the laughter in his voice was evident, too--there was no bad blood in all of this, just playful competitiveness). He smiled to himself as he listened from the bottom of the ladder. You were fitting in, as he could tell from the way Seungkwan turned his accusations onto you as Chan’s accomplice to all of this.

That was good. You were finding your place. All Seungcheol could truly do was ensure that you felt safe there.

That night, Seungcheol felt something come back to him in a dream. He woke up, hand flying up to his shoulder. All he could remember was that it was injured, even if he couldn’t remember how he did it. It all felt... distant, yet too real to be a simple dream. He looked over to where you had curled up between Jeonghan and Joshua in a tangle of limbs. He felt the tiny urge to reach out and brush back a strand of hair from your face, just to feel your skin underneath his fingers so he knew that you, too, were real. It had to be, right? All of them were real.

He pushed away that tiny urge and sent it sailing. You had a long day after learning and playing games, especially because Soonyoung and Seokmin had been dragged into it after the four of you came down to eat lunch. Yet.. all of this was beginning to seem like a dream.

He furrowed his brow. Was it? Was that memory part of real life, then? Was all of this happening now because of you? He hadn’t remembered something so vividly in so long. And truthfully, if getting closer to you meant that he’d figure it out... then he would do it. For both himself and the others.

If you were the key, Seungcheol was ready to accept that. Maybe there was truth in the feeling that Chan was meant to be the last one.

If you’d given him that memory on purpose, Seungcheol couldn’t tell. A week later, and you seemed to show zero signs of actively doing something.

He’d been mulling over the memory a lot over the past week, and intentionally avoiding spending too much time with you past what he had promised himself: teaching you further about harvest and gardening, helping you get acclimated; the little things that you needed to know if you were going to stay. He’d been wanting to tell Jeonghan and Joshua, but he didn’t. He’d tell them when he was ready. He just needed to know if you were truly the reason he was beginning to remember things, little by little.

Even when your presence pulled at his attention, or the sound of your laughter made him smile, or the way he felt far more at ease when you were close... Seungcheol did not love you. He cared for you. He loved you in the same way he loved everyone else: the way a survivor loves another survivor, because they had something in common. He supported you, and he wanted for you to be safe and comfortable with everyone else. Seungcheol did not love you. Seungcheol, all things considered, did not have time to love you the way he thought you deserved to be loved.

Yet he noticed other little things, too. Maybe it was you. He felt as though you were a constant in his life now. You always seemed to stay close to him when he was reading, something even inquiring about it, or you’d invite him to join in on games with the others. It was cute whenever you cheered him on when you weren’t playing, or the way you’d kind-of smile and join in once you heard he was partaking. He assumed that you felt safer knowing Seungcheol was there, whether that was because he’d stick up for you or because the others would target their teasing toward him first.

He purposefully started assigning you to the same chores as himself. If Jeonghan and Joshua noticed, they said nothing. Maybe they assumed he was doing it to make sure you were adjusting well. That was what he was doing, wasn’t it? That’s what his answer would be if they asked, so it must be what he was doing.

It was the little things he was able to do for you: encouraging you to join the rest of the group (not just Chan: he knew Chan liked you enough to include you in things), making sure you were eating well since plenty of people struggled with that. There was a reason Jun always shared his rice with Jihoon, or the careful way Mingyu would always check on Seungkwan to make sure he was eating enough. Seungcheol was merely doing his job and caring for you a little more than the others until he knew you’d be fine.

He woke up one night to notice you were missing. It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced this, although that was with the others. So he sat there, waiting and staring up at the ceiling. If he heard your footsteps, then he’d go back to sleep. Minutes passed, and you didn’t come back. So he pushed off the blanket, as well as Jeonghan’s arms, and went to look for you. The bathroom was empty, as were most rooms. You hadn’t retreated to your own little bed for some privacy for the night, and he continued up to the church to check the top loft. He paused, though, when he could see a sliver of moonlight stretching across the floor. The doors were open just a crack. Seungcheol changed direction, making his way to the doors as he pulled them open. The summer heat had cooled off for the day, and he looked around as he stepped out. You weren’t in the courtyard, either...

Had you left? No. Seungcheol refused to believe you’d just disappear so suddenly. Yet it seemed like you had...

He drifted off toward the gateway to the fields, the tiniest feeling in his stomach guiding him forward. He stopped, grass crunching with each step, and he stopped when he saw you sitting on the ground, staring up at the stars. He could hear the sound of your breathing, uneven as you tried to keep your shoulders from shaking.

“Mouse?”

You looked up with a gasp, startled. “Cheol--”

You... looked rough. He could see the streaks of tears down your cheeks. He felt his heart soften at the sight. How many nights had you slipped out like this to cry on your own?

“Do you want to talk?” He asked, hesitating to continue forward. “I can go back inside if you want to be alone.”

You nodded, and he slowly came forward before sinking down into the space next to you. “I think.. I’m just frustrated,” you confessed, wiping at your face with your sleeve.

“In what way?”

You didn’t look into his eyes, instead busying yourself with tearing up pieces of grass. “It feels like... I’m always going to be missing something big.”

He felt the same. All of them did, truly, but he didn’t know how to say it. It was always like there was this key facet of his entire being that was just... missing. Jihoon’s music always made him feel at ease with that.

“And it’s just... It's been bothering me more lately. You guys theorize about stuff based on what you’re good at, but it feels like I’m just here.” The blade of grass fell from your fingers, carried off by the breeze. “Like... Jihoon being a songwriter feels right. Soonyoung doing choreography. Minghao being an artist...” You trailed off for a moment. “It feels like I don’t have a place. Like I’m always going to be different.”

Seungcheol wanted to tell you that you did have a place and you always would with them. Yet... he felt it, too.

“It feels like I was added into this picture. Like it was always supposed to be the thirteen of you. So why am I here?”

“Why are any of us here?” Seungcheol gazed out into the distance, the question falling from his lips without thinking. “I think it’s fate.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know.” Seungcheol felt your fingers brush against his for a second. “But you’re here now,” he said. “I used to ask a lot of questions. What brought us here? How do we go home again? And... Can we? Or is this it? Is there even a home for us to go back to?” He could feel a familiar pressure in his skull, always starting from the back. He let his questions go. “But I decided I’d stop questioning it in order to focus on keeping us safe.”

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. “I still want answers,” you quietly said. “If this is it... I just want to know that. I’m okay with that. I just want to know.”

Didn’t everyone? Seungcheol looked at you, watching for a moment. “If it helps... I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “We love you, Mouse. Don’t forget that.” He ruffled your hair, standing back up. He offered a hand to you, “Let’s go to bed. Okay?” 

Slowly, you accepted his hand, cold fingers wrapping around his hand. He helped you to your feet, and didn’t let go until the two of you were inside the church. Seungcheol didn’t fall asleep that night until he was sure you were comfortable and resting in your little space next to Chan.

Truly, it warmed his heart to see how close you were becoming with Chan, Hansol, and Seungkwan... But Seungcheol wasn’t blind. He could see that Chan had begun to harbor affections for you beyond simply friendship (sometimes he thought he saw it in Hansol, too, but not as much). So he started to do his part. He paired you with Chan during chores, and continued to push you toward him instead. To give you chances to be with Hansol, too, just to see how you felt about him--sometimes by giving Seungkwan a nudge toward Chan’s direction to distract him. It worked, for the most part: he caught you disappearing off with one or the other. You’d even disappeared once with Seungkwan, and later Seungcheol learned that he’d been teaching you how to make flower crowns.

Yet hours later, after a nap in the sun next to Hansol, you came to find him again. Seungcheol had been alone, reading peacefully for once. He never considered himself to be an introvert--the opposite, truly: he thrived when around others--but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy having a little space to himself. He’d found a book that he couldn’t remember reading and disappeared off to be by himself. It surprised him, actually when you found him in this small room while he could hear the merrymaking of the others enraptured in their own game.

“Cheol?” You said, standing in the doorway. “Is everything okay?”

Seungcheol looked up, before nodding. “Are you?” He reached for the makeshift bookmark that Jeonghan had drawn for him once. This had been some storybook that Jun found, and Seungcheol was almost halfway through with the thing. “I thought you were with the others.”

You nod. “I just wanted to see you, I guess. The others are playing that mafia game I’m no good at.” You seemed to hover near the doorway, hesitating to come in. “... Do you want to be alone? I can go if you do, I don’t mind--”

“It’s okay.” Seungcheol sat up, shifting over so that you could comfortably sit on the cushioned surface he’d set up for himself. He’d been sprawled out on it before, as comfortable as he could be. But for you, and anyone else, he’d make room. “I heard you were out with Hansol today.”

“Hm?” You sat down next to him, getting comfy. “Oh. Yeah. We went out and talked a little bit before taking a nap together.”

“How romantic,” he teased. You could see his dimples as he smiled at you.

You giggled, bumping against him. “Aw, Cheollie, he’s just my friend. It was nice, though... Maybe we could go out there sometime.”

Despite the way his heart betrayed him, skipping a beat at the idea of spending more time alone with you, he reminded himself that it wasn’t anything special. You had taken a nap with Hansol, your friend. Seungcheol was your friend, too. “Maybe.”

“What are you reading?” You asked, leaning over to get a better look at the cover.

So he extended it to where you could get a better look. “It’s a romance novel. I think Jun found it during one of our trips to the city."He looked down at it, “Wonwoo has one like it that feels like it was written for children. It’s about this prince of the stars learning to accept love from the sun’s child. It’s... a little strange,” he said. “If you want to read it when I’m done, you should ask Wonwoo. He wanted to reread it, but I’m sure he’d let you get it first since it’d be your first time reading it. It’s... very sweet.”

You smiled, toying with your sleeve. “I’d like that,” you said. “Maybe we could talk about it later, too.”

We? Seungcheol pushed back the tiny hope in the back of his mind that meant the two of you. “Wonwoo and I discuss books sometimes. Jun and Minghao join us, too,” he said. “I think you’d like that.”

If he let himself believe it, he could have sworn he saw the light in your eyes dim down a bit, only to return again seconds later. “Yeah... I’d like that, too, Cheollie.”

(It wasn’t until Jeonghan later pointed out the stupid smile on his face that Seungcheol realized how deep he was letting himself fall for you, so much that even hearing the name Cheollie felt more special with you.)

”Seungcheol!”

Seungcheol had been busy in the church alongside Jeonghan and Joshua, papers scattered on a table as Jeonghan made notes. He’d already spoken to Soonyoung and Jihoon about plans for your celebration in a few weeks, which meant he was moving onto assigning out a few tasks that needed to be done now to prepare. Joshua had been talking about the flowers that Minghao had already set aside to dry when you first came while Jeonghan was drawing out vague ideas for how to decorate, only for the doors to get thrown up by Minghao rushing in.

“They’re fighting again,” Minghao said, “Seungkwan and Mouse. It’s worse this time--”

Seungcheol turned. Shit. He went to tell Jeonghan and Joshua to wait there, he’d be back soon, only for Jeonghan to tell Joshua to hide the notes and they’ll work on this again later. The last time that you and Seungkwan had bickered, it was over something small that Seungcheol had yet to fully understand--toast crumbs and honey, or something. Joshua had told him the story and that it was handled. But Seungcheol, with Jeonghan tagging along, had followed Minghao back out into the gardens where he saw you and Seungkwan deep in an argument. Worse than last time, he imagined, because even with Mingyu’s attempt to defuse the situation going completely unnoticed by the two of you.

So Seungcheol raised his voice, calling out both of your names. He separated the two of you, albeit with Mingyu stepping in to physically pull a growing-louder Seungkwan away from you. With two people keeping you apart, the two of you went silent. Seungcheol pulled you back, and swallowed any and every feeling he had for you. He needed to be a leader now: now someone harboring affections for you.

“Both of you need to calm down,” he said firmly, not missing the way that your lip quivered as you looked at Seungkwan. He saw Seungkwan’s did, too: this argument... felt like it was something more. He turned to you once he saw that Minghao had come over to help Mingyu with calming Seungkwan down. “Mouse. Let’s go,” he nodded, one arm curved around your bicep as he pulled you along with him. He was rougher than he meant to be, but he rarely saw fights escalate that loud.

Seungkwan had looked hurt. More at you than at him, but Seungcheol would handle Seungkwan next. You were newer, he didn’t know how to handle you yet compared to Mingyu and Minghao being able to talk Seungkwan back down. Jeonghan had followed you and him back into the church, taking note that Joshua had disappeared--likely doing what he had asked. Good. One less thing to worry about.

Seungcheol pushed you toward a chair, arms folding across his chest. “What happened?”

He was... intimidating, unbeknownst to him. You had stared at him for a few seconds. This, in your mind, was the leader you’d heard about: Seungcheol. Not the sweet, funny Cheollie who you were used to hearing people tease. But you swallowed your trepidation, and began to explain what happened: Mingyu had asked you to collect apples. That much Seungcheol knew the reason behind--Mingyu had plans for some sort of dessert tonight, so he needed extra apples for it. He knew Mingyu would be busy with other things that they needed for dinner, so he must have passed the task to you.

“And... I don’t know,” you said, “I dumped my bag into the basket that Mingyu had there. Seungkwan said I did it from too high, and I checked to make sure I hadn’t bruised any. When I told him I’d be more careful, he just... went off on me. He said I kept making excuses that I’m new whenever I mess up instead of actually learning. He doubled down, and we just... Fought.”

Seungkwan, Seungcheol knew, was stubborn. But he didn’t cause fights for no reason. Minor disagreements, sure, but fights? He’d talk to Seungkwan soon enough.

He watched as you wrung your shirt in your hands. “I said something really mean to him, actually, and I know I shouldn’t have. I was mad and hurt, but...”

“But?”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you confessed. “I almost got hurt a few weeks back, and Jun helped make sure I was okay. What if I had gotten hurt? Then I couldn’t do my part, and--and I wouldn’t be helpful. I don’t want to make mistakes. If I do something wrong, then correct me, but I don’t like him accusing me of not trying.”

Seungcheol watched as Jeonghan sank into the seat next to you, gently pulling you in by your shoulders as you sniffled.

“And--And I don’t want to fight with Seungkwan anymore,” you sniffled, reaching up to wipe at your eyes. “I don’t wanna fight with anyone, Cheollie.” You stared down at your hands in your lap. “I wanna apologize to him, but...”

Seungcheol frowned, and let out a quiet sigh. He reached forward, giving you a gentle pat on the head. “I’ll talk to Seungkwan and hear his side,” he said. “Okay?”

“Am I in trouble?”

Seungcheol couldn’t tell you no without hearing Seungkwan’s side. He was sure Seungkwan would have to apologize, too, but... “You owe him an apology,” he told you, since you had already confessed to saying something mean to him--and to wanting to apologize. “But I’m still going to talk to the others.”

He watched as you lifted your head, eyes watering. “Are... Are you going to kick me out?”

“What?” Seungcheol stared at you, wide-eyed at the idea alone. Even without his feelings for you, he couldn’t dream of kicking you out without a damn good reason. “Of course not. I told you... We fight sometimes. It happens. I just need to know the whole story before I take care of this.”

He could see how upset you were, though. He leaned forward, pressing a tiny kiss onto the top of your head. “Go cool off,” he told you, gentler this time. “It’ll be okay. We’ll talk later.” He looked to Jeonghan, “Take care of them. I’m going to go see Seungkwan.”

He could hear Jeonghan gently suggest going to see what Seokmin had made for lunch as he left the church. He found Seungkwan sitting under the trees with Mingyu and Minghao, far calmer than he had been before. Minghao was going through a bag of berries, plucking off stems and leaves as Mingyu kept his attention on Seungkwan. Seungkwan was tugging at the grass, tearing the blades that came loose.

“I don’t know--I just got... Upset.” Seungkwan let out a long sigh. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Mingyu said, one arm wrapped around Seungkwan. “It’s the first time any of us have seen this kind of thing.”

Minghao looked up, “Are you sure? I’ve seen the way some of you act with him--”

Mingyu laughed. “No, no, trust me... This is different.”

Seungcheol came forward, grass crunching under each step. “What’s different?”

Immediately, Mingyu jumped, shoulder bumping hard into Seungkwan’s as Minghao startled as well. They all looked up, sharing a look.

“Nothing,” Seungkwan said as he stood up. “I know I hurt them. I’ll apologize to them later, Cheol--”

Seungcheol stopped him before he could go. “They feel bad, too,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it--”

“Seungkwan shook his head immediately. “We talked about it. I’ll be okay,” he said, “Don’t worry.”

Seungcheol watched as Seungkwan left, disappearing around the corner--likely to find you, if he was honest. He turned to Mingyu, who had already stood up and made his way over to the basket of apples that needed to go inside. Before he could question him or Minghao, the two had practically bolted with their own things to do, leaving Seungcheol to wonder if something else was going on. Were they keeping secrets...? Or did they not trust him to do his job as leader?

Sure enough, you and Seungkwan were on good terms again by the next day. He watched the two of you talk over breakfast as if nothing had happened the day before, or that it had just been a minor spat rather than an argument that left you crying. With chores doled out for the day, Seungcheol watched everyone go their separate ways...

Except for you, who approached him. “Kwannie and I talked last night,” you said. “I apologized for what I said, and he apologized for picking on me. We went on a nice walk, actually, and talked about everything. So...” You hugged him tight. “Thank you for talking to him, Cheollie.”

He raised a brow. “Is that what he told you?”

You drew back, looking at his face now. “Yes?”

He shook off his disbelief--Seungkwan had... lied, too, for some reason. “I’m glad things are okay now,” he said.

And you smiled before you left, going to do your own chores. Sure, it genuinely was good that things were resolved between the two of you, even if Seungcheol wasn’t sure what you two talked about. He watched you walk away, brows furrowing. What was Mingyu talking about with Seungkwan and Minghao...?

... Oh.

They were starting to realize it... Weren’t they?

Seungcheol stopped doting on you.

It felt abrupt to cut himself away from you. He kept his distance, which became... immediately harder when it felt like you found him at every turn over those next few weeks. He passed things onto other people rather than speaking to you directly, yet he bumped into you later, always with that sweet smile once you saw him again. As if nothing was wrong. He suggested to Hansol that he take you to watch the stars, and Hansol had turned the offer down. He told Minghao to help you dye your blindfold--something that should have been done sooner--and realized that, coincidentally, yours now matched his (something Minghao casually mentioned with a slight smirk: completely coincidental, but a sign from the way he said it). Mingyu would push you toward Seungcheol with questions about dinner, things he already knew the answers to; Seokmin would implore you to tell Seungcheol about your feelings since he would understand him (and he did, and he listened without a second thought each time). Jihoon switched chores with you sometimes, Wonwoo always cleared a space for you next to Seungcheol, Soonyoung outright invited you into conversations with Seungcheol before finding a way to slip out... Whatever the other three were doing, Seungcheol had yet to figure it out. He suspected Jun was the reason why you sometimes pushed some of your food toward him, especially when he worked harder--the things Jun knew he liked, so he passed them to you.

So he was going to put an end to this, now. Jeonghan and Joshua had been sitting in the church alongside Mingyu, Soonyoung, and Jihoon. They were stringing together things for your celebration tomorrow: flowers and other decorations.

“I know what you’re all doing,” Seungcheol said to them. “Stop it. Tell the others to stop, too.”

Jeonghan looked up, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Stop making you happy?”

“I’m not treating them any differently than how I treat all of you,” he crossed his arms across his chest, “and I don’t want anyone to think that.”

Joshua had smiled though. “Right... So we shouldn’t say anything about how you’re clearly falling in love with them.”

“I’m not.” Seungcheol felt his heart ache at the outright lie. This was for the best, he reminded himself: he is the group’s leader. He couldn’t be biased one way or another, he couldn’t afford a distraction that'd throw his job off its kilter. If he loved you the way he believed you deserved to be loved, then he couldn’t give his all to all of them. “I don’t want them to think that, either. I’m just taking care of them the same way I cared for all of you.”

Jihoon stared at him, not buying any of it with a sharp gaze that cut straight through him. “Seungcheol.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Mingyu had dropped his things into his lap. “There’s nothing wrong with being in love with them,” he said. “They clearly love you, too.”

You couldn’t. Seungcheol wouldn’t let himself believe that. It would be easier to break his heart alone: it might kill him to know he was hurting you, too. He shook his head. “They don’t know who they love,” he said, throat feeling as though it was threatening to close itself up. “They’ll change their mind. Stop pushing them toward me, and let them decide how they feel on their own.”

Soonyoung stood up, calling after Seungcheol as he began to walk away. “We just want you to be happy!” He said, fists balling. “Are you really going to do this to yourself?!”

Without another word, Seungcheol walked away. Despite the fact that his feelings for you grew stronger and stronger, he would push them away if it meant he would be a good leader to everyone. He was a leader first. Their friend second. As much as he wanted to love you the way you deserved to be loved (and maybe be loved the way the others believed he deserved to be, too)... He couldn’t allow himself to ruin things for the rest of the group. As their leader, he needed to stay unclouded in his judgment. A fair leader. A good one. If he loved you, he would be allowing himself to favor you subconsciously. He had a job to keep everyone in this group together. To keep them happy, too.

If that meant he had to let go of a facet of his happiness... Then Seungcheol would heal in time. That was what a good leader did, wasn’t it?

The next morning meant you had been with them for a month.

Seungcheol found... pride in days like this, ever since Seokmin suggested they start the tradition. In celebrating that a person decided they wanted to stay, to make an effort to be a community with them. It meant that Seungcheol was doing his job in making sure people felt heard and loved. That the others were, too. On mornings like this, almost everyone was out of bed early to eat breakfast and get to work on setting things up. Seungcheol had doubled back to check on you, though, and to tell you to stay down in this living area while they prepared the church. Yet...

Something had been slightly off about you. He noticed it when he saw you, and he saw that Jun had seen it, too. Jun had come back to plate your breakfast, and now he was sitting next to you, checking you over. The back of his palm was pressed against your head, brows furrowed together. He looked up when he heard Seungcheol approach.

“They said they were feeling a little dizzy,” he said, pulling his hand back. “I think it’s just dehydration.”

Seungcheol turned you to look at him, also checking your temperature to make sure that you weren’t starting to show any signs of illness that way. You felt as warm as you normally did, no sudden spike in body temperature. “Have you eaten yet?”

You shook your head as best as you could with Seungcheol somewhat holding your face. When he let you go, you turned back to your plate. “I told you,” you said to Jun, “I’m okay.” But you looked up to Seungcheol as he stood next to you, hovering just a little to watch over you. “I just need to eat something.”

Jun frowned, “If you aren’t feeling well--”

“I’m okay,” you said again. “Really.”

Jun looked to Seungcheol, and rose after he nodded: Seungcheol would take care of this. He sank into the empty spot next to you instead.

“Mouse--”

“Cheollie,” you looked up. “I promise, I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he said, gently. “But if you don’t feel well, then try to rest and stay hydrated. I’ll come check on you again later, okay? Please try not to come upstairs,” he said, “we want it to be a surprise.”

With your word, Seungcheol left you there with a mental note to ask the others to check in on you, too, when they had to head back. He took the lead on getting everything ready. Seungcheol, ever since they started this tradition, always loved how things came together. It took hours of work to put everything in place, but it was worth it to see the church become colorful and vibrant in a way that felt special. The curtains were hung up to keep the heat of the day out, flowers strung together like bead curtains (which, thankfully, were less harmful when getting thwacked with them). There were dried flower petals covering the pathways and a little outside of it. Over the course of several hours, there was plenty of food spread out for all of them to enjoy, and Mingyu had already bust out the alcohol for those who wanted to drink. Minghao always took the lead on lighting candles around the room once the hours dwindled into the evening.

“Chan,” Seungcheol called out as the group had finished their preparations. “Go get them.”

It’d likely be the last time for the newcomer to be brought in by the one who came before them (and, for some reason, Seungcheol hoped it was). But he saw the way Chan lit up at the request, disappearing into the back. The room fell quiet as they waited, flower petals in hand. But the curtains parted soon enough, Chan’s hand in your own as he guided you out, only for you to be bathed in flower petals.

Happy one month with them, Seungcheol thought as he watched you laugh, plucking flower petals from your clothes. He hoped to get more with you.

Seungkwan crowned you with a flower crown he had made himself today from fresh flowers, planting a gentle kiss against your cheek. Chan had kept an arm around you, stealing another kiss on your cheek--the same thing that everyone, in time, would do. Drinks were eventually passed out to the others, and he watched you mingle as you drank. You laughed a lot when you drank, Seungcheol noticed as he watched from the sidelines. Soon, he would give his toast, and then the group would go into dancing and drinking and singing until everyone’s throats felt raw and fatigue took over. He could see Jeonghan reaching for the box of art supplies that had been lugged up for him and the others.

You seemed happy. And that meant it was his cue to speak up, cup raised and throat cleared as he got everyone’s attention. You had looked up from where Chan still had an arm slung around you, and Soonyoung’s hand rested at your hip as he stayed on your other side.

“I know we just had one of these a month ago,” he said, “when Chan celebrated his first month with us. I didn’t think we’d actually be celebrating again so soon, but I think all of us know that life here is unpredictable. When Seungkwan ran back to me, saying that there was someone new, I didn’t know what to expect. The first time I saw you, Mouse,” he met your gaze, and felt his heart stir in his chest, ever quick to betray him, “I saw myself in you. I think I speak for everyone when I say... We were all afraid when we came here.”

The group mumbled their agreement: all of them could confirm that they, in one way or another, felt some sort of anxiety. Not that they could blame themselves: they woke up in a strange place with no memories. Anyone would be terrified then.

“And yet you stayed,” he continued on once the buzz had quieted down. “And I feel honored that we all have grown to know and love the hardworking, loving person that stands here with us. It isn’t easy to choose to stay with strangers like us. But I know we’re all glad that you did stay. I think... None of us want to imagine a life without you here in it.”

The sappy statement earned him some playful teasing for how soft he seemed to be on nights like these, but Seungcheol could only smile at you.

He said your name, raising his cup. “I hope you’re happy here with us. We’re happier with you. I think we can all agree that we love you. So thank you for staying with our family, and becoming one of us.”

With the others raising their cups in agreement, he watched you grow bashful at the short speech. You peeled away from Chan, burying your face in Soonyoung’s shoulder to hide your embarrassment and how hard you were smiling. But you took your drink with them afterward, and Seungcheol stepped away to cough into his shoulder once he began to feel a tickle in the back of his throat. Jihoon took over from there immediately, saying something about how several people prepared performances for tonight.

Seungcheol, instead, stepped out for a moment--long enough to cough. Where’d that come from...? But Chan stepped out after a moment, a cup of water in his hands.

“Are you okay?” He said, offering it up.

Seungcheol accepted it immediately, pushing his cup of wine into Chan’s hands for the moment. He nodded, downing the water immediately to try and soothe whatever tickle had come up. “I’m fine,” he said. “Must have been dust or something.”

Chan let out a huff. “Ah... We left Seungkwan in charge of dusting part of the room. I told him that we should have let Jun do it, but he insisted.” He crossed his arm, still careful not to spill the cup. “They’re setting up inside now. I thought I’d let you know.”

With his cup passed back to him, Seungcheol followed Chan back inside to see where Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung were setting up to sing a song that felt... a little too on the nose. Like it was a direct message for him to do something, but he’d heard them practicing this number for the past week and a half. He doubted it meant anything serious. He instead stuck to the back of the room, in case he was hit with another coughing fit, and watched you clap along to the number with the others. Joshua sang for you, too, as did Jihoon. You didn’t know all of their songs yet, but in time, you would. Maybe you would write your own songs, too, one day. Even if you needed Jihoon’s help with it. It’d be your own verse in this world. Seungcheol looked forward to hearing it.

“It’s a little obvious now.” Jeonghan had come over to refill his cup, and Seungcheol looked over. Without a word, Jeonghan nodded over to where you were laughing at something Seokmin said while Minghao was setting up for his own dance. At some point, someone had painted a small heart onto your cheek in bright red paint. Seungcheol realized how much louder you were now that you had alcohol in your system.

“Hm?”

“You should tell them,” Jeonghan said.

“Tell them what?”

Jeonghan set his cup down, turning to Seungcheol. “That you like them.”

“Didn’t I do that already?” Seungcheol playfully teased, trying to steer clear from a subject he’d already dropped. “Or were you pretending not to understand again?”

Maybe it was the alcohol in Jeonghan’s system, too, that led him to laugh lightly at the comment. “I mean it,” he said once his giggles had quelled. “I know what you said, but... If you’re falling for them, then you shouldn’t wait. You never know what--”

Seungcheol coughed again, throwing his face into his elbow. Jeonghan patted him on the back, already asking a question about how much he’d been hiding. Was it the dust, or was he sick and powering through it?

“Really, you’re so stubborn--”

Immediately, commotion behind him made Jeonghan whip around. The sound of your name being called by several people caught Seungcheol’s attention as he looked up, that tickle in his throat dying down as he saw pain across your face as you swayed. You reached out to catch yourself on a chair, or on Seokmin, as your eyes squeezed shut. Seungchoel didn’t think. He dropped his drink, immediately hurrying to you as your knees gave out, and he caught you. The glass had shattered behind him: that much he heard, but now your face was buried in his chest, and he could care less about a stupid broken glass. You’d gone limp, and he gently lowered you down onto the floor as he called your name, gently slapping your face to try and get a reaction.

When you didn’t wake up immediately, Seungcheol told the others to clear a way. With Mingyu’s help to move you as safely as possible, the two of them carried you back down to your own little nook. For comfort reasons, and for safety: if something had happened, he needed to make sure that nothing spread to the others. Jeonghan had tried to argue that they had already kissed your face and shared the same space as you, but Seungcheol sent him away and stayed by your side instead. You were breathing just fine, and your heart rate seemed normal...

He wished he knew how to call for help. Someone who could help you better than any of them could. He just sat there next to you, one hand holding yours, his lips pressed against his fingers as he cradled his face in his hand. All he could do was watch you and the steady rise and fall of your chest.

When you began to rouse, you squeezed his hand gently. Seungcheol immediately moved in, checking you over again.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you said, pushing yourself to sit up. “I was just... dizzy, I think.”

He nodded slowly. Your face felt warmed than it did earlier. “Did you eat?”

You nodded. Jun had made sure you had breakfast, and Mingyu had checked to make sure you ate when he returned later.

You just stared at him. Past him for a moment, eyes refusing to focus on him for too long. “... Cheollie?” He could see the fatigue on your face now. “I don’t feel good.”

Shit. Seungcheol gently shushed you, gently lying you back before pressing a kiss to your forehead to gauge your temperature again. “I’ll be here,” he said gently. “You just rest.”

“But the party--”

“It’s okay,” he said, hand still holding yours. “Just rest, Mouse.”

He stayed by your side as long as he could, only rousing you awake once Mingyu brought you something small and easy to eat. Just to make sure you had something in your stomach. When Mingyu tried to get an update out of Seungcheol, he merely shook his head and told him to tell the others to rest. He’ll watch over you tonight. Despite how badly he would need sleep, he stayed awake and watched over you with his worries to power him through it all.

Sure enough, your body grew warmer and warmer until you were running a fever. He saw the way your face was sweating despite the chills that began to wrack your body. Seungcheol left your side long enough to get a cool washcloth, and he carefully wiped down your face.

“It’s okay,” he said for what felt like the thousandth time that night. “We’ll take care of you,” he promised. “You’re going to be okay.”

Shortly after you had gone back to sleep, he gathered the others. No more chores for today: everyone needed to focus on you now. If something needed to be done, then do it, but he wanted everyone to look into ways to treat your fever. Once you were okay, he would take care of everything else.

One day later, and nothing seemed to be working. You were conscious, thankfully, and talking just fine when you weren’t slipping back into sleep. But without Seungcheol there, you barely ate or drank on your own. It took Jun stepping in for Seungcheol to finally leave your side for more than a few minutes at a time: Jun had slept.

“I’ll watch over them,” he said. “You need to sleep.”

Seungcheol didn’t have the energy to argue that he needed to be there. He was supposed to protect you, like he was supposed to protect everyone. But he was exhausted at this point, and left to get a few hours (or minutes: whichever he could get) of sleep.

What happened so suddenly?

Jeonghan had pulled him into bed, telling him to rest. He’d stay awake in his place, too: if Jun had an update, then Jeonghan would wake up Seungcheol if it was severe enough. Joshua had already said he would stay with Jun to ensure your wellbeing while everyone else worked to find a way to keep you well. Yet the moment Seungcheol laid his head in Jeonghan’s lap and shut his eyes, the fear began to hit all at once. At first, he wanted to say it was because you were one of them. He’d be terrified if any of them fell this ill, this suddenly. But he knew underneath it all, his feelings seemed to amplify this fear by thousands. If he lost you...

Nothing seemed to work. Every remedy did nothing to heal you, even if a few helped lower your fever a bit. So Seungcheol swallowed hard, and stepped in.

“Tomorrow at sunrise, we’re going to the city. Jeonghan and Joshua will be staying behind to take care of them,” he looked around. “So pack your bags tonight, and rest up. If we find anything that can treat them, I want to be notified immediately.”

At first, everyone agreed... But Seungcheol saw Jun look around, before speaking up. “I’ll stay with them, too,” he said. “Just so there’s an extra person around who can cook.”

Seungcheol knew that Jun could make healthy soups-- things that you could keep down. He allowed it with ease, but everyone else was to start making plans. If it weren’t so late, they’d go tonight. But they had to preserve battery power as much as they could: if he had to send someone running back ahead of the others, Seungcheol would. He prepared his bag first, his fresh change of clothes folded up and ready for him when he woke up in the morning. And before he slept, he decided he would visit you...

Only to see that Chan was sitting at your side, clutching your hand tightly as you slept. Seungcheol understood: Chan loved you, too. Even with the way he pushed you toward Seungcheol, Chan continued to love you no matter what. For a moment, Seungcheol had to wonder if this would be true of every person.

“You’ll be okay,” he said softly to you, and Seungcheol could hear his voice break. “Okay? The world isn’t this cruel. It wouldn’t give you to us to tear you away like this.” He squeezed your hand tighter. “We’ll fight for you, okay? So rest up, because I’ll throw you a new party if I have to.”

Seungcheol watched as Chan realized he wasn’t alone, only to sheepishly apologize. With the two of you left alone, Seungcheol sat down next to you. He loves you, Seungcheol wanted to say, so, please, watch over Chan when you wake up. Whether you love him or not, please support him. Yet the words couldn’t come out, lost in his throat and fizzling into nothing but ash.

“I’ll visit you in the morning,” he promised. “So sleep well, Mouse.”

Jeonghan took over watching you, only stopping Seungcheol with a hand on his shoulder. Wordlessly, he reached up, squeezing Jeonghan’s hand in turn. Neither shared anything more than that touch, no carefully timed glances to make sure that the other was okay. Jeonghan held onto his hand for a moment longer, and then he let go, letting Seungcheol leave to get rest that night. Despite what he’d told everyone, they were all awake when he came in--quietly talking with one another until they saw him again. Before he could say something, the tiniest bit of anger flaring up, Chan met his gaze.

“Cheol...”

“I told you all to go to bed,” he said with a heavy sigh, that flare up of anger dissipating on his tongue. His fatigue had already caught up with him; worrying about you meant he had little energy left to spare right now. “We’re leaving early--”

“They know,” Joshua said. “We were talking about you.”

Seungcheol looked up, unsure of what to say. They know, a little voice whispered in the back of his mind. All of them had to by now. Yet no one moved, no one went to confirm the thought aloud...

He made his way to his usual pillow and blankets to move them further from the group for tonight (the only way he could sleep well, he thought), only for Seungkwan to reach out, catching him by the wrist before he could get too far.

“Just say it,” Seungkwan looked annoyed. “We’re all thinking it, so just say it already.”

“Say what?” He pulled his wrist free. “That I love them?”

Again, silence overtook them all. Logic told him to deny it again: to say he would be this worried for anyone... because, Seungcheol knew, he would be. Had this been Jeonghan, worse than the last time he was overtaken by a slight fever, he’d be this worried. It didn’t mean anything when Seungcheol loved all of them just as much as he loved you.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Mingyu stared at him. “Or you won’t?”

“I can’t,” Seungcheol said, “because my job is to take care of all of you. I love them like I love all of you--”

Soonyoung scoffed, “You don’t! You clearly love them differently than you love us! Just admit it already!” He stood up, despite the way Seokmin tried to stop him from growing closer. “Stop denying yourself of happiness because you think none of us can handle it! We’re all adults!”

“I’m happy with all of you--”

“You aren’t!” Soonyoung said, fists balling. “So just--Just say you love them already so we can make fun of you but be happy for you.”

Seungcheol swallowed hard, unsure of what to say next. He’d seen Soonyoung have bad days--he’d seen everyone have bad days at this point. Yet his friend had just exploded with frustration at him, standing in front of him with this pleading look on his face. It felt like denying his love for you would break Soonyoung’s heart more than his own. Without a word, Jihoon gently pushed his way between Seungcheol and Soonyoung, a hand on Soonyoung’s chest to force him back a little more. He took tiny steps away as Jihoon looked up at him.

“Seungcheol. Tell me what you see right now.”

Seungcheol stared at him, brows drawing together. “What?”

“Look at all of us,” he said, “and tell me what you see.”

He looked around, and began to recognize the concern on everyone’s face now. The pity they felt, the guilt: had they been the reason why Seungcheol internalized every little thing he felt? Why he only opened up after a while? It wasn’t that Seungcheol never discussed his feelings, for he did, but... Ever since you came along, he’d found himself hiding them more and more in order to be the leader all of you needed. He’d closed part of himself away, afraid of ruining this family he’d so carefully brought together and loved wholeheartedly... And it'd started to affect everyone.

He didn’t know what to say. They looked miserable, and it was his fault.

Jihoon, at his silence, understood that Seungcheol wouldn’t answer him. “If you love them,” he said, “you need to tell them before you lose them.”

“We’re not going to--”

“I know we’re not,” Jihoon said, “because we’re going to go and find something to help them. But if you don’t tell them now, you never will.” Jihoon’s hands found Seungcheol’s, squeezing them tight--drawing Seungcheol’s eyes up to meet his own. “Say it.”

Seungcheol’s heart had begun to race at the mere idea of losing you, and it didn’t stop. “I love them,” he said, softer than before. If he said it too loud, it’d hurt. “Okay?” He looked around. “I think I’m in love with them.”

When Mingyu reached up, tugging for Seungcheol to come down to the level of everyone else, he let himself fold. Joshua had already drawn in, arms wrapping around Seungcheol wordlessly at finally confessing something to them--even if everyone there had already known. Something about the warmth of Joshua (and Mingyu and Jun, who’d already come to him to join in on this ever-expanding hug as the rest of the group followed suit) was enough to make him tear up. He wiped his tears, embracing the warmth of the family he’d created--even without Jeonghan there, he knew that he must have contributed to this conversation, too. He would have encouraged all of them to not back down.

Seungcheol realized that he simply couldn’t lose you. Not when he’d finally felt found with you. How many people had he met in his time here? How many times was he the one doing the finding, and bringing people into a home as they built it up together? And yet you were the first one who made him feel as though he’d come home again. This, Seungcheol decided, was what a soulmate had to feel like. A person that made him measure moments in the time before he knew you, while everything afterward was merely defined in feeling love. This wasn’t to say that he didn’t feel love for every single person surrounding him right now, but they made him feel at home. You were his home.

Soon enough, he’d managed to unravel himself from them all and regain that sense of leadership, except bolder. Brighter. Like he’d found a new sense of purpose in himself as he told everyone to rest up for the night. Chan had moved to sleep next to him, and Chan had taken his hand before the two of them were asleep.

“Cheol... I love them, too,” he said quietly. “But if it’s you... I know they’ll be happy. So please,” he gently squeezed his hand, “take care of them.”

Seungcheol leaned in, pressing a kiss against the younger’s forehead. “I will. I promise. You take care of them, too.”

Seungcheol slept long, and deep: without dreams for the first time in so, so long. It was still dark out when he rose, and he got to work changing into sturdier clothes for this journey. As much as it pained him to leave you, he knew he needed to. He had to guide the others there and back. Many of them knew the way, but it wouldn’t be right to send all of them alone. He needed to guide them. 

With a moment alone with you, Seungcheol squeezed your hand one last time as he watched you sleep. Joshua would come in soon to take his shift of watching over you diligently, as Jeonghan had stepped out to give him a moment of privacy.

“I love you,” he said out loud. He didn’t expect anything back, but he needed to say it once. Just to say it to you. He leaned forward, pulling away the damp rag that covered your forehead, and planted a kiss against your forehead. “So hold on for me,” he said, quieter this time, “until I come home. If you do, I’ll tell you properly when I see you again.”

Wordlessly, he wrung out your washcloth, and re-wet it with cool water. He folded it, draping it across your forehead again, and gave your hand one last squeeze. He would commit to telling you his feelings once he came home. He would tell you that he fell for you, and that it was okay that you didn’t feel the same way. He just needed you to know so that he could begin the process of overcoming it: and so you understood why he had to distance himself from you.

Mingyu made breakfast that morning with Jun and Seokmin helping. Seungcheol did, too, where he could. They needed to eat before the sun had completely risen, and be ready to go once they had daylight to guide them. Joshua came in to get a bowl of rice porridge for you: he’d rouse you again once they had left and ensure you ate. Everyone seemed quieter than usual: no talks of the journey there like there always used to be. Perhaps it was because this journey was different.

“I think their fever has gone down a little,” Joshua said out loud as he scooped up porridge for you. He left it on the table to cool while he saw everyone off.

The sky was pale, but Seungcheol could see where Hansol was staring out into the distance. “I think it’s gonna rain soon.”

He could see the dark clouds ahead, too. So Seungcheol turned to the group that would be going with him--all except the three (four, including you) left behind. “If you want to stay and avoid the rain, I won’t be mad.”

No one opted to stay. Joshua stayed to watch them take off, walking as a group into the distance. Jun and Jeonghan departed from his side soon enough--Jeonghan to check on you, and Jun to begin cleaning up the remains of breakfast. Joshua would help him, too, after he had his own quiet meal. Once the others had gone, he went back inside, silently walking through the remnants of your celebration. Everything hung in a newfound light, bleak and boring. Joshua stopped, noticing the broken glass on the floor near the wall. He’d clean that up, too, before they came back. Or Jeonghan or Jun would: someone would take care of it and clear the chairs that were still upturned.

Jun had set out a small meal for Joshua to eat before he went to watch over you. Jeonghan could handle you for now before he needed to rest from his overnight watch of you, which left Joshua to eat in a slow, quiet peace before he began to clean things up. Jun had slowly gone through most of the dishes before deciding he’d go start with clearing up some of the church--he’d clean up the glass, too--and Joshua would cover the rest before he went to you.

“I told you, you can’t go--”

He looked up, only to see you out of bed. Your blanket had been draped around your shoulders, and you paid little mind to Jeonghan as he tried to chide you. He had reached out, trying to catch you by the shoulder, only for you to let the blanket slip as you pulled away from him. Joshua could see the fatigue on your face, moving toward a goal that no one else could see...

So Joshua moved to stop you. “Mouse, you’re sick--”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried that?” Jeonghan said. “I was walking them back from the bathroom when they kept coming this way--they won’t talk to me.”

Joshua could hear the rain begin to pour outside, and he stopped you, hands resting on your shoulders. “You need to rest--”

You pushed past Joshua. “Wanna...” You breathed quietly, shallowly. Even now, as you kept moving, you looked exhausted. “I wanna see Cheollie...”

“He’s gone,” Joshua said, reaching for you again. “Everyone went to find you medicine.”

You shook your head, and you kept going, letting out a quiet, “No...”

Jeonghan looked at Joshua, bewildered, and gestured for him to stop you before you got too far. You were sick, still: this could only hurt you more if you fell. Joshua went to stop you once more, only to hear the quick, wet steps of someone rushing in. Jun stood in the entryway, clothes and hair damp as he stared at them.

“The storm’s looking worse--”

And you, through this unrelenting need to see Seungcheol again, took off running with whatever little energy you had. Despite the voices that called after you, you used all of your strength to climb out and into the church again. Joshua was yelling after you, voice growing closer with every heavy step against the ground, but you continued. You threw the doors open, the rain and the wind greeting you as you continued outside. Once you found yourself at the edge, you braced yourself on the wall as you stared through the hazy rain ahead. Sure enough, you could see the downtrodden group as they returned from a failed attempt to leave. And beyond all of them, lagging behind to ensure no one would be lost, was Seungcheol.

The rain picked up, and you were shivering again as you nearly sobbed to see him again. Slowly, the group stopped as they all realized who was standing there, waiting... and then Seungcheol stopped, seeing you. Without thinking, he took off running, and so did you. The moment you met Seungcheol, your legs gave out underneath you, but it was alright: Seungcheol had caught you, arms tight around you as you collapsed to the ground together. You held on tight to him. Earlier, your fever had broken, and all you could do was think about seeing Seungcheol again. He held you tighter, and you broke down crying, sobbing into his shirt.

And he began to cry, too, as relief broke over him. His arms were strong and secure around you as he held you close to him, so, so relieved that you were going to be okay despite his own failure in getting to the city. He’d cursed the storm for coming out of nowhere. Himself for waiting until daylight. Yet with you in his arms, everything was alright. He pulled you back up and the group returned to the church, taking refuge from the onslaught of rain and wind.

“Go get changed,” he told the others, holding you tight still. “Before you all get sick, too. I’ll take care of them.”

The group dispersed reluctantly, questions on everyone’s minds of what had happened to heal you so suddenly. Seungcheol just stayed standing there, holding you close until you slowly sank back onto the church floor with him. He sat with you, just sharing this space with you until you had the energy to go back in. You needed to change out of your soaking wet clothes, too: as did he. He just got you back, he couldn’t be the reason you became sick again.

“Cheollie...” You pawed at his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. “I had a dream while I was sleeping.”

Seungcheol watched you. “What?”

“I think... It was my other life. I don’t remember much, but I was crying, and... I was talking to someone. He reminded me of you.” You paused, gazing at him. “Maybe it was you, but... It’s more than I had before.”

And maybe it was stupid, but he found himself crying again. His forehead pressed against yours, and he pulled you back into his chest. It was as if you were getting better by the second. Maybe he’d take the group to the city in a few days anyway, just to stock up on whatever they could... But for now, he’d be there for you instead. Just like he promised he would be.

Over the next few days, he watched you get your strength back. Call it stubbornness or him being overprotective, but he refused to let you work again until he knew you could handle it. You were still a little weak on your feet, despite how many times you insisted you were fine. Jeonghan said you reminded him of him sometimes: always insisting you were fine, you could take on more work. Maybe Seungcheol would see how it felt to be Jeonghan for once by taking care of you. Seungcheol merely denied your request, kissing your forehead and insisting you rest first, and then you could help again.

One morning, you found him in the kitchen. “Cheollie...” You pouted, watching him for a moment longer. “Can I please help today?”

... Truthfully, Seungcheol thought you might be the death of him with that cute pout. He sighed. “You can help wash laundry,” he said. “But no heavy lifting. You look like you’re going to pass out if you do too much,” he took your face into his hands, “Okay? I’ll have Chan and Jun watch out for you, so don’t try anything.”

All it took was for you to smile to make Seungcheol fall harder than he had ever fallen before. You leaned forward, kissing his cheek. “Thank you, Cheollie!” You stepped back, “I’ll go tell them myself!”

He watched you disappear past Soonyoung with a newfound spring in your step. Soonyoung turned, watching you go before he looked back at Seungcheol’s face... and immediately realized he had the sappy look of a man in love. The tender way his gaze softened as he watched you go, a smile easily tugging at his lips as he let out a sigh. Seungcheol then saw Soonyoung, straightening himself up. “You’ll be doing laundry today with Chan and Jun,” he said. “Just so someone else is looking out for them.”

Soonyoung chuckled, making his way over. “Okay, Cheollie,” he said, leaning in to kiss Seungcheol’s cheek.

Only to immediately be met with the complaint that it wasn’t as cute when Soonyoung did it, the latter cackling as he took off with a piece of toast in hand.

When Seungcheol woke up one morning, he didn’t see you anywhere. 

It was strange. Everyone else was still in their places, still sleeping in on one lazy weekend, and yet you were gone. He’d pulled himself from bed, getting up to go look for you… Only you were nowhere to be seen. You weren’t washing up or getting food or water, and there were really only so many places that you could reasonably be this early. By the time he came back from checking outside to see if maybe you’d gone from a walk, a few of the others had woken up. Jeonghan had a cup of tea in front of him, reading a book he’d borrowed from Wonwoo, while Jun, Seokmin, and Mingyu were all working on breakfast. Maybe he’d imagined you left? Seungcheol started to make his way through the room, going to check to see if you’d curled up closely with someone and he just… didn’t notice. 

“You won’t find them.”

Seungcheol slowed to a stop, turning back to where Jeonghan was still sitting. “What?”

Jeonghan hummed, looking up. “What?”

“What do you mean I won’t find them?”

He’d smiled, eyes twinkling, and suddenly Seungcheol knew that Jeonghan was in on this. “I mean,” he said, “you won’t find them, so stop looking.” 

Seungcheol sighed, crossing his arms. “They’re still recovering. Stop playing around, I want to make sure they they’re fine—”

“They are,” Mingyu said without looking up. “I checked on them.”

Seungcheol looked at the four men that were awake before him, all of them hiding smiles. Wait… Was everyone in on this? He knew Jeonghan was—he could see that smug look on his face from space. But had you truly managed to get every single person there on your side and convinced them to tell Seungcheol to stop looking for you? He pouted at the thought. That wasn’t fair. “Then where are they?”

“I promised I wouldn’t say,” Mingyu looked up. “Don’t look for them.” 

Seungcheol paused, trying to come up with another way to find you, then. “What if I’m trying to confess how I—”

“No, you aren’t.” Jeonghan shut his book. “Look. They’re fine. We know where they are, so you need to quit looking and let them do what they’re planning.” 

He furrowed his brow. You were planning something? “That’s not how—”

Seokmin had chuckled warmly to himself. “Ah, really—They’re really excited about this. Don’t ruin their excitement, okay?”

The image of your disappointed face flashed through his mind. He sighed, sitting down next to Jeonghan before pouting at all of them again. They’d confronted him while you were quarantined away in your own bed those first few days of you sleeping on your own: he needed to gather the courage to tell you how he felt. Yet now they’d all seemed to drop the idea, letting you work out whatever plan you had. What if you felt sick again? Everyone seemed to know where you were (or maybe where you would be, considering you’d likely stay on the move to avoid being around him for however long you were going to keep this up), but that didn’t feel like enough. He needed to see you himself. Whether that was his mind or his heart speaking, Seungcheol no longer knew. He just needed to see you again, every day until everything ended. 

“Just go about things as you normally do,” Jun said. He smiled when he looked up. “It’ll be okay. We’re watching over them.” 

Seungcheol let out a sigh, and agreed to do just that. When he went to assign chores for the day, Jeonghan took over, saying that he and Joshua had decided on it. Another sign that everyone was in on it, because now it was Seungcheol’s job to be pushed around for a bit. Just for today, Jeonghan had promised him with a kiss on the cheek: he needed to stay out of your way. You’d only been here for a little over a month, and you’d somehow managed to wrap every single guy around your finger that they’d do this for you. What if he was mad? 

… That was an empty threat, Seungcheol knew. He couldn’t be mad at you: not when Seokmin had said you were so excited. Seungcheol took this to mean that this would be something good. And after everything that had happened, he was ready for something good. 

He went about his chores for the day, slightly keeping an eye out for you the entire time. Maybe if he caught even a tiny glimpse of you, it would be enough to set him at ease again. Yet the entire time, you seemed to evade him masterfully—because you had help. It’d always be someone with a well-placed question, always forcing him to pay attention to them, or with something they needed for him to do or reach… He was sure that it was part of your plan to stay hidden for the day, because Mingyu had literally never asked for him to reach something before.

Chan had approached him later in the day, asking for him to go on a walk with him. He pushed, too, even though Seungcheol had already been ready to say yes. Wordlessly, Chan took his hand, and guided him out of the church with slow steps. 

“We talked,” he said quietly once they were far enough away.

Seungcheol answered with an inquisitive hum. 

“Mouse and I,” he said. “About us.” 

Us? 

“I told you before that if it’s you, I know they’ll be happy.” Chan suddenly looked… distant. Older than he did before. Seungcheol had always thought of him as the youngest of the group in more than one way. Yet Chan stood before him now, as though he’d matured far past his own years. “But I couldn’t not talk to them about how I felt.” 

Seungcheol felt his heart still. “You confessed to them.” 

Chan nodded. “I did. And it was… really good for us,” he looked at Seungcheol. “I think they’re my best friend. They said I’m theirs. I kept apologizing to them, saying that I know they didn’t like me like that, but they just hugged me and said that they love me like family.” 

Seungcheol softened at the loving way Chan said it, heart so full of love for this group of people that had come together. He’d always wondered what Chan would do: if he would hold it all in, or if he would talk to you the way Seungcheol felt that the two of you should. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t reciprocate, and it wasn’t fair to Chan to keep it all inside forever. The two of you were close, after all, and hiding those feelings away would only hurt. Even if it meant the two of you needed time away from one another, Seungcheol always felt that it would be better for you both to clear the air. You were always closer to Chan than you were anyone else, after all. 

“And I wanted to tell you that I love you, too,” Chan said, voice firm. “If you mess this up, I’ll never forgive you.” 

Yet Seungcheol laughed. Something in the serious way Chan was staring at him, only for it to melt away into his own laugh. Chan wrapped his arms around him, pressing a tiny kiss into his neck before squeezing him tighter.

“Seungcheol,” he said quietly. “I mean it. I love you. So please,” he stepped back. “Don’t hide how you feel around us anymore.”

“Did the others put you up to this?” 

Chan’s face flushed with embarrassment, and he nodded. “I lost the drawing. But that doesn’t mean the others didn’t want to tell you—They just—”

“They’re helping Mouse,” he said. “Aren’t they?”

Chan froze up for a moment, eyes wide, before he chuckled warmly. “Yeah. They asked for help, so… We helped. I mean it, though.” He took Seungcheol’s hands. “We love you. So please stop putting yourself last for us. We’re all adults. You can lean on us, too—not just Jeonghan or Soonyoung or Jihoon. All of us.” 

Seungcheol only pulled him back in for another hug, holding onto him tight for a moment. “I won’t,” he promised quietly. “Thank you, Chan.” 

Eventually, he could hear the call of Mingyu from outside of the church. Chan called back that they were coming, and to wait for them as they made their way back. Wordlessly, he offered his hand to Seungcheol, who gladly took it. The two returned up the hill to where Mingyu was waiting outside the church, the doors shut. Before Seungcheol could get too close, he stopped him, holding up a dyed piece of fabric—your blindfold, which he had overheard you and Minghao discussing how to dye your favorite color weeks ago.

“Put it on.” 

Seungcheol looked from the fabric to Mingyu’s face. “Is this really necessary—”

“Put it on!” Mingyu urged with a laugh. “And shut your eyes. Mouse said they don’t want you seeing anything until we’re gone, and they don’t trust you to just shut your eyes.” 

Who was he to deny you of whatever surprise you planned? Seungcheol tied the blindfold over his eyes, letting Chan guide him by the hand into the church. Soon, he was stopped somewhere within that middle aisle between the rows of chairs, and told to wait. He felt Mingyu plant a quick peck against his cheek before taking off with Chan, the two quietly laughing as they went. The room soon fell quiet, and Seungcheol was left standing in the middle, eyes shut and waiting.

“You can take it off now,” you soon said, voice slightly echoing around the room.

When he did, he opened his eyes to see you sitting on the stage. You had Joshua’s guitar in your lap, and the microphone pulled up.

“Hi, Cheollie.” You had smiled, visibly nervous. “I’m… I’m not as good as the others at this. But… I wanted to do something for you, and… a few nights ago, this song just kind of came to me. You can, uh, take a seat if you want, but… Don’t be mad if I sound bad.” 

He laughed warmly at your plea. He could never be mad at you. You cleared your throat gently, and then began to sing.

You know, without you, I’m so lonely…

Something seemed to light within Seungcheol’s chest. Recognition. Pure, unfiltered recognition. You didn’t sing with the confidence of someone who had made this yourself, but with the confidence of someone who knew it word for word. Like it was a song you had sung a thousand times over, enough to make it a part of you. He felt himself falling all over again for the gentle way you pushed through the song, abandoning the few chords you’d learned from either Joshua or Jihoon or Hansol to focus on singing it right. He wondered if this was a song you felt you needed to get perfect now. If all of this was something you had to make perfect. The flower-covered church, the candles that you’d lit, the fourteen chairs at the front row with every single person’s plush animal sitting in the seat… How much had you needed to get right when he would have accepted you no matter what?

When you finished, he felt as though his voice had caught itself in his throat at first. He muttered a quiet, “Mouse,” only to stop, and say your name instead. 

You set the guitar aside carefully, making sure it was properly in its stand before you picked up and set the microphone stand aside, too. “I… Fuck, I rehearsed this so  many times today, and now I’m forgetting all of it.” You stepped down off the stage. “Kind of a shitty confession, isn’t it?”

Not at all. Not when it’s you. Seungcheol didn’t know what to say though, and he drifted forward to meet you halfway. 

“I… Hansol and I talked,” you said, taking his hands. “He came in one day after dinner and said that we needed to talk—you and I, I mean. And, um… I think… I think I came up with this plan that night, too.” 

“I’ve been worried about you all day, you know,” he said with a quiet sigh. 

“I know, and… I’m sorry for that. I just needed the time to make all of this perfect.” For a moment, the room was quiet, but you met his gaze again a moment later. “Seungcheol… I love you. Jeonghan said something about how hopefully you would confess if I wasn’t ready yet, but… I dunno. I feel like you deserve a romantic confession like this, even though I’m kind of bad at it.” 

“Don’t say that,” he gently said. “I didn’t expect any of this.”

Softly, you giggled. “Well, good, because it’s a surprise, silly.” You let go of one of his hands, reaching to brush a strand of his hair back from his face. “I think… Deep down inside, I always knew it would be you. Sometimes I feel like I woke up that day, and then I saw your face, and I knew that this was it. That I was right where I’m meant to be, even though I was terrified.”

His gaze softened a bit. “I’m glad I could help put you at ease.”

“I think... You take a lot of responsibility on yourself,” you said quietly, as though softening your voice would keep you from offending him in any way. “And I’m tired of it. You’re a person, just like the rest of us. And… And you make me want to do more. To be more.” You squeezed his hand, your other holding his face. “To be someone you can depend on. I don’t want you to keep living your life thinking that you have to hide everything you feel just so you can be a leader here.” 

Seungcheol watched the way you drifted closer to him, your face so close to his now. All it would take was leaning forward a little to kiss you now. Your body was warm against his own, and he was thankful it was warm in the normal way. No trace of fever left behind to scare him, to make him worry that tomorrow might be your last day without him saying the things that mattered the most.

He reached a hand up, curling his fingers around yours. “I don’t know what’s in the future,” he said in a low voice, keeping these words for you alone to hear. “And I’m terrified.”

That had surprised you, leaving you wide-eyed as you stared at him. He could hear his name on your lips, and Seungcheol shut his eyes for a moment, gathering whatever courage he had left in himself. All too easily, Seungcheol was nothing but a man in front of you. Not the leader you knew him to be, but Seungcheol: a man with insecurities and fears and wants, same as any other. 

“None of us know what brought us together,” he said to you, “and I don’t think we ever will. I hate admitting that, and saying that I don’t know what brought you to me, but…” He opened his eyes, meeting yours. “I love you,” his voice wavered. All at once, Seungcheol broke before you. 

It wasn’t beautiful to watch a person crumble. It was messy, and a little ugly, but Seungcheol broke before you and you held him through it as he let everything go to be vulnerable with you. He didn’t deny every feeling he had, and he’d learned how to communicate what he felt safe in saying to the others, but now? He felt all the pride he carried leave him. He played father and big brother and best friend to twelve people as he needed to, and now he was nothing but a man who was so, so deeply in love with you. Over two years of being a leader, a provider, of ignoring his own pain to care for others… and you had been the person who broke him in barely over a month. You, the newest person among them who didn’t even remember your own name until someone else spoke it aloud. You, the person who looked at him with fear in your eyes when you first awoke, but now looked at him with nothing but love. Was that what pierced his shield and pushed an arrow through his heart, as though he hadn’t dressed and carried himself in layers of pride and his love for others? Was it your love that made him unafraid?

No. Seungcheol was still afraid. He would always be a little afraid of the uncertainty of tomorrow. But it was love that lightened that burden; that made him ready to face it, unwavering in his stance. Love itself was this uncertain beast, but how easily you had tamed it and turned its force fully onto him. If he were to die right here in your arms, he would at least die knowing the full force of love. He felt it before, but not like this. It was charged with its own warmth that could melt even the coldest person (and it had: he’d never seen someone make thirteen men melt so easily, endeared to you so quickly). 

“I love you,” he repeated, tears already beginning to streak down his face, “and I’m scared I’m going to lose you again. I almost did before, and–and it made me realize that I can’t lose you.” 

You stared at him with slightly parted lips, his words sinking in. You cupped his cheek, and he leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut again as he savored how warm your hand was. 

“I thought I needed to hide this,” Seungcheol said. “So that everyone would remember I’m still our leader.”

“Why?” You frowned. “Cheol, you keep talking about loving while we can--”

“I’m supposed to be strong for us,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “and you make me weak.”

He watched the way your brows drew together, hand almost pulling away from his face. “Is... Is that bad?”

He shook his head, opening his eyes as started to blink back tears. “It’s good,” he said, hand reaching up to curl around yours. “You feel... safe. Like I can be weak with you if I need to be.” And you feel like home, he wanted to say. But how did he say that? Should he even say that so soon?

So he didn’t, because you leaned forward, lips slanting against his own. He paused for just a moment, before he kissed you back, harder, taking your face into his hands. It was as if the only thing holding him together now was you being there with him. He held your face in this desperate motion to know that you were alive and real in that moment, as if he’d lose you if he didn’t feel you there. It was as though you would disappear into stardust before him if he didn’t take this moment to kiss you the way his heart—his soul yearned. Whatever stardust was in your soul, it sparkled and shined in a way similar to his, your flames burning alike. He could taste honey on your lips—you must have had tea with Joshua before all of this. Would your lips always taste so sweet? He hoped to find out from now on.

When he drew away, he just gazed at you like you were his universe. His thumb ran along the apple of your cheek, and he’d smiled at you before planting a softer kiss against your lips.

“What do we do now?” You asked a moment later.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to stop, growing more flustered. “I… don’t know.” This was your plan, after all. He was told to leave this in your hands, and he did. “It’s late,” he said to you quietly. “And you still need to rest—”

Warmly, you laughed at him, oh-so in love in a way that he could fully hear now. “You never change, Cheollie.” 

“And I won’t,” he said. “Not now.” 

“You will,” you said with this twinkle in your eyes. “But it’s okay. I’ll change, too.” You brushed a strand of his hair back. “We all will. But we’re together, so it’s okay.” 

Seungcheol smiled softly. Was it possible to fall in love with a person over and over within seconds? He wasn’t sure. You made him feel like he was, at least. Maybe he’d find out with you with whatever came next. 

“Seungcheol,” you said softly. “You asked me what I wanted on my second night here.” 

He furrowed his brow. “Hm?”

“But… Do you want me to stay?” 

And how he laughed, just as full of love as you were. “More than anything.”

You leaned in, pressing a peck against the corner of his mouth. “Then I’ll stay.”

The two of you stayed alone a little longer, savoring the privacy the others had allotted you. Yet neither of you wanted to stay alone tonight. This new chapter would begin no matter what, and the two of you decided to face it together. But he sealed a promise to you with a kiss: from no won he was wholeheartedly yours (and you were his, too). Tonight, he would hold you close, and savor having you there in his arms. The others had warmly greeted the two of you, glad that everything had been completely ironed out at long last. You fell asleep with your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you hoped to commit the sound to memory. Seungcheol watched the way you fell asleep before he did, and leaned in to press one final kiss against your temple. I’m here, too, was what his kiss told you. We’re here. We’re not alone. You were right there with him now…

And tomorrow? You’d be right there with him, too. Right where both of you belonged.

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[imeternallylove]

Secret - S.Holmes; Prologue

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Genre: purely angst, upcoming age and some smut

Warning: none

Word: approx 700

main mastetlist  | request & ask | prompts | theme song

Chapters index

prologue | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part night | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen | epilogue

You should never have had slept with Sherlock Holmes.

From the moment you mistakenly kissed after a long night of drinking, it was a downhill spiral of secret meetings in the private study room – not studying – and late hours in the lab room – not practising. All of your friends warned you that it would only end in a heap of tears over a destroyed friendship.

But you couldn't help yourself. Sherlock left you wanting more: a junkie infatuated with the pleasure.

Because the way that his thighs bumped against you and his strict tremulous voice empowered you to give him every part of yourself., twice. So far, you both have been quite thirsty.

Everything had been wonderful in your life. You were ready to graduate from high school, you had your entire summer planned out, and when autumn arrived, you were going to pack your paints and go to Liverpool to pursue a career as an artist. And suddenly it was all collapsing around you, one fantasy after another turning to dust and vanish in the blink of an eye. 

"Do you have any trophies?" You stuttered in astonishment, your legs giving way from beneath you and allowing your body to fall to the bench.

It was a chilly Tuesday evening, and you were sitting in the park midway between your house and Sherlock, exactly as he had requested. He seemed anxious on the phone, but Sherlock was always like that, like the time he called you at 3 a.m. and forced you to come over just to be sure he didn't have a third nipple. Even so, you hastened to get ready and see him since he was your best friend and you needed him by your side.

And he was about to leave you.

You understood how important this was to him. Even you and everyone else who knows him would agree that the lab is his second home. You knew how hard he had worked for an opportunity like this, and you wanted to be happy for him, but hearing him tell you about the best news of his life made you sick. If Sherlock was accepted into Boston University, he'd leave you behind to cope with your mess of a life.

Sherlock sat down beside you, knees brushing up against yours as he moved as close to you as possible. “Yeah, isn’t it amazing? I was just scolded Mycroft that I hate government jobs when someone from the uni called I should come to Boston and you know, start to prepare myself there. It’s what I’ve always wanted!” He was beaming with so much excitement and happiness.

You didn't want to be the one who got in the way of his dreams, as much as you didn't want to go through it alone. You tried to grin as you drank past the lump in your throat. "That's fantastic news, literally. Sherl!" You cried, attempting to fake enthusiasm. You were still sick to your stomach on the inside. 

"I still can't believe it," he said, shaking his head in bewilderment before wrapping his arms over your shoulders and pulling you against his chest. His scent enveloped you in an instant as you buried your face in his coat, holding back the tears that begged to fall. "Thank you for never letting me give up," he muttered quietly, gently cradling the back of your head and running his fingers through your hair.

You were on the point of tears, feeling the salty sting as they gathered in the corner of your eyes, but you swallowed hard to keep them in. "This calls for some celebrations," you burst into tears leaning out of Sherlock and bringing your scarf closer to your face. "How about you go get us some tea from the corner café?"

Sherlock smiled brightly at you and rose to his feet, oblivious to your pain. "I like the way you ponder," he said while directing attention to his nose and then at you. "One green tea for my best friend, coming right up!" He responded, backing away and kissing you.

You finally allowed the tears fall down your cheeks as you watched his figure walk out of the park, sobbing breaking out of your chest. The last shred of hope you had clutched to, the possibility of having him at your side through it all, had slipped from your grasp and broken on the ground. You couldn't be the one to derail his hopes as well. 

"I guess it's just me and you," you said to yourself, cradling your stomach with your hands. Inside was a swarm of cells that were rapidly multiplying into something that was totally your responsibility.

The secret you could never tell Sherlock.

[dw-writes]

Eyes On You - Mad Sweeney x Reader

Summary: Sweeney couldn't sleep, and desperately had something to say while he finally had a chance to say it. Genre: Gen. Fic; Angst?; Prompt Request A/N: This is the answer to the poll prompt that I gave you all forever ago, with the prompt being "I fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you". Now, this IS part of The Invasion canon, somewhere before the Rock when you're traveling. I'll put up the links to The Invasion later, but for now, please enjoy :) Let me know what you think

Chapters: Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four  || Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven || Chapter Eight || Chapter Nine || Chapter Ten || Chapter Eleven || Chapter Twelve || Chapter Thirteen || Chapter Fourteen || Chapter Fourteen-ish || Chapter Fifteen || Chapter Sixteen || Chapter Seventeen || Chapter Eighteen || Chapter Nineteen || Chapter Twenty || Chapter Twenty-One || Chapter Twenty-Two Requests: Mad Sweeney and The Holidays || The Invasion and the Stressful Blows One Shots: The Invasion and That One Thankful Holiday || The Invasion and the Weight of Change || Eyes On You

It was late. Sweeney knew he should’ve been asleep, especially when he looked at the bright red numbers on the digital clock that read 3:45 AM. He looked away from them, at your form on the other side of the tiny motel bed, curled up with clean sheets and the slightly dingy comforter thrown over your form.

He’d been having trouble sleeping for the past few days, chalking it up initially to the travel you and him had been doing – back to back motels, back to back gods with back to back errands, back to back buses. He knew that his time with you was coming to end, he could feel it in his bones, but he didn’t want to admit it. With the date of the Rock getting closer and closer, your job with Wednesday was getting closer to ending.

He rolled onto his shoulder, watching your back as it rose and fell with your deep breaths.

“Yer gonna be leavin’ soon,” he whispered into the dark night of the room. He held his breath as soon as the words left his mouth, waiting for you to wake up. The traveling must have been too much for you, too, however, as you didn’t even stir. Sweeney licked his lips. He was too tired to think about what he was saying, too tired to stop himself as he yawned and let the words tumble out of his exhausted mouth.

“Yer gonna be leavin’, and yer gonna be leavin’ me,” he continued, “Goin’ who knows where.” He snorted faintly, sniffed, shifted on his squashed and folded pillow. “Without me,” he muttered. He eyed your back as you curled up tighter under the blankets.

“Dunno what ‘m gonna do,” he sighed, “Shit luck without you, ‘s what I’d probably say to yer face. Can’t say the rest of it.” Sweeney wanted to stop talking, needed to, but the words burned as they clawed their way up his throat from his chest. “Fuck, I need you t’ stay,” he rasped, blinking hard, shoving his face into the scratchy pillowcase.

“Loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you,” he mumbled into the pillow, turning his head to watch you again, “Pretty sure of it now. Can’t imagine what this bullshit’s gonna be like when y’ wise up and fuckin’ leave this shit behind.” The confession felt wrong, but it wasn’t a lie – he couldn’t even lie to himself, no matter how much he wanted to.

“First moment,” he muttered, like he couldn’t believe it, “Fuck, that’s it. Saw you on the fuckin’ couch and just knew everything was different.” He sighed, scratched his jaw, and settled back into the thin sheet you shared. “Fuckin’ Rose would say it was some stupid romantic shit, but we both know it wasn’t. Almost called the cops on me that day, you did, but I think I woulda let you, because I just couldn’t…” His thought trailed off as you rolled onto your back, shifting under the blanket towards the warmth in the bed. He swallowed the rest of the words, panic lancing through his chest, and waited until you were settled again.

“Couldn’t say no to yer face,” he whispered.

He sat up carefully, making sure you were neatly tucked into the bed, and grabbed his clothes from where he’d thrown them onto the chair. Everything he said choked him, settled back into his throat and made it hard to breathe.

He carefully opened the door and stepped out into the cold, humid air outside, then shut it behind him.

You found him sitting on the curb outside in the morning when you opened the door, still dressed in your pajamas and half asleep. “The fuck are you doin’ out here?’ you mumbled.

Sweeney blew out a thin string of smoke into the early morning air. “Waitin’ fer you,” he grunted. He stood. “You hungry? ‘m starvin’.”

You squinted at him and struggled to rub the sleep out of your eyes. “Sitting out here like a weirdo,” he heard you grumble as you turned around, “Thought someone had kidnapped you or something.”

He snorted, watching the door shut behind you as you shuffled in to get ready, then sighed to himself.

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[usmsgutterson]

so, it’s probably nothing, but it’s been on my mind sometime and I can’t let it go- hug prompts! The link for those is here, and again, you can send in as many combinations as you want!

nikolai lantsov with 13, 14, and 16??

Well Enough- N.L x gn! reader

this was a blast to write so thank you so much for sending this in! Sorry that your requests are coming out so late, I've just been staying for upwards of twelve hours before I go to sleep lately and twelve hours of awakeness does not bode well for my motivation whatsoever lol.

the prompts you requested: “you almost died” hugs, “you saved my life” hugs, and reunion hugs

fic type- angst with a fluffy ending

Warnings- mentions of bombs, mentions of war, stab wounds, bruises, smoke and soot inhalation, pain from pinkie toe to shoulder

You could barely keep your eyes pinned to one spot as you moved through the crowd. A part of you had the sense to be amazed at the fact that you still stood, the fact that you’d managed to survive several bombs from the Fjerdans in the city of Os Alta, an attack made as the war worsened and tensions rose. 

You were standing, even if putting too much weight on your right leg made it go numb for a split second before pain jolted from the tip of your pinkie toe all the way through to the top of your shoulder. 

You were standing, a knife clutched in your left hand, even if there was a wound on your shoulder and two more over your ribcage. 

You were standing, even if you had bruises on your face, smoke and soot in your lungs. 

You were standing. You’d made it out and you’d done so with a blade in your hand and a heart made of steel thumping away in your chest. 

You’d lost Nikolai in the thick of it, though. A couple of moves and the correct wielding of the knives you’d always carried on your person had saved Nikolais life as Fjerdan soldiers stormed through the city before the bombs went off, but you’d lost Nikolai in the seconds after he’d pressed a kiss to your lips and you’d exchanged I love yous. 

Nikolai could’ve been killed in the aftermath of the bombing, and as your eyes frantically searched the crowd, the idea that you could’ve lost the man you held so dearly was terrifying. 

You walked until your feet hurt, asking around and beginning to debate saying a prayer as you hoped to find Nikolai, Zoya, Genya, or the twins. You would’ve given anything, absolutely anything to see Tolya in the crowd, sticking out in the manner of a sore thumb because where Tolya was, Nikolai was never more then a foot or two away. 

You jumped, scream falling from your lips as you felt a hand grasp your shoulder. You turned around to see Tolyas face, relieved grin spreading to his lips and joy flooding his gaze. 

You found yourself relieved to see him, too. He’d been alive and as much as Nikolai mattered to you, Tolya had been one of your closest friends since the two of you were on Sturmhonds crew, playing cards and winning each others rum rations. He was alive and you hadn’t lost one of your best friends, and in the end, that was all that mattered in that particular moment. 

He took a step to the side and let you go, and your heart stopped for a moment before it set off at a racing pace with the sight of Nikolai Lantsov, the man whom you would’ve sacrificed yourself for a thousand times over, the love of your life, the man who you woke up next to every morning and the one next to whom you fell asleep every night.

He looked better than you did, a saber clutched in one hand, soot covering some of his brow and parts of the golden blond of his hair. He had no stab wounds but a couple of cuts on his face and some bruising on his jaw. 

He said nothing before he pulled you into a hug. You let him, hugging back just as tightly, if not just a bit tighter. You’d thought him dead, had spent the better part of four hours on your feet searching for him, asking if anyone had seen the king or even thought they’d caught a glimpse of golden blond hair or an ever so handsome smile. 

“You saved my life,” he whispered, the hold he had on you tightening just a bit. “I thought you’d died.” 

“You almost died,” you cut back. “If I hadn’t stepped in at the right time, even though you’re built like one, the Fjerdans would’ve killed you.” 

Nikolai laughed as you pulled away. “Ever the cynic, I see.”

“Ever the cynic who you fell in love with,” you said pointedly, grin coming to your face. “Ever the cynic who society expects you marry by the end of the year!” 

Nikolai laughed, looking to Tolya, who had been watching the two of you with a smile on his face, likely making a note that the two of you reminded him of one of his beloved sonnets. 

“Still working on the proposal,” he said. Tolya just gave a shake of his head, rolled his eyes. 

“Working on it?” Tolya asked. “I would’ve thought you figured it out by now. You’ve been trying to figure out when to propose since before Sankta Alinas martyrdom.” 

You shot Nikolai a look, and he only had time to respond to it with a devilish grin before you were hugging him again, grateful that you’d gotten to him in time to save his life, grateful that he’d not died when you’d lost each other in the bombings that occurred thereafter. 

He hugged you back just as tightly, grateful for all the same, and when you separated with your hands interlacing, Tolya only scoffed.

“A proposal isn’t necessary,” he said. “Just go through with the wedding. You act like an old married couple as it is, so you may as well skip that step.”

Nikolai grinned. “Alina did give you the Lantsov emerald."

"And she wanted you to propose using it," you said. "At least something small, she said."

“A lie can be fabricated about a proposal," Nikolai said, having known that neither of you much cared if there was a proposal or anything other than a discussion to indicate your engagement.

“I’ll come up with something and have a couple of our spies get the word out,” Tolya said. “I’m thinking sunset, by the lake, private affair with tears on Nikolais part.” 

Nikolai only brought your hand up, pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Works well enough, doesn’t it?”

You nodded. “Well enough indeed.” 

[let-them-read-fics]

Cloud Nine

Pairing: Dami x Fem!8thMember!Reader

Warnings / Misc. -- Smut, Public Sex, A Little Fluff

Word Count: 3,218

Summary: With the next leg of tour in full swing and lots of places to be, you’re inevitably faced with a daunting red eye flight. Dami – paired with you for the ride – attempts to make the best out of a bad situation.

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: The NDA cover that Dami did with Yooh... dear god, does it have a hold on me. Anyways 🤠 I hope you enjoy this piece! Let me know what you think, and don’t forget to drink some water today! :)

◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚

The ambience of planes has never once failed to fascinate you. 

So many people, so many stories, mingling and intersecting for a point in time that some would remember forever and others would rather choose to forget. Children, adults; first time flyers, seasoned vets. Some having the best day of their lives while others were experiencing their worst. 

A bunch of shooting stars converging, waiting to pass one another for what was likely the first and last time. 

With so much… humanity… packed into one space, your mind tended to give into the romantics. It made you feel small, in the grand scheme of things, but just as important all the same. Every unique experience being lived around you could come together to share this one, unifying moment. 

Well, perhaps calling it a “moment” would understate the grueling twelve hour journey you were embarking on…

But regardlessly, within that, you found true beauty. 

-

The thing to break you from your pleasant reverie was the hushed sound of an attendant’s voice over the intercom, providing a time check and announcing that the cart of refreshments would be brought around shortly. 

You peeked out of the window at your side, taking one last look at the velvety night sky before pulling the cover down and turning away. 

Dami’s eyes were shut and her arms were crossed at her chest; she was resting peacefully, just like a majority of the other travelers. The personal lights above everyone’s seats were all dimmed, basking the cabin in comfortable darkness. Some passengers employed the use of the small televisions mounted against the backs of the seats in front of them, and sparse illumination came from others that were on their phones or tablets as well. 

But for the most part, the darkness won out. 

You watched as a few people woke up, some on their own and others prompted by a jab from their friends or family sitting next to them. They wiped the sleep from their eyes and stretched, reaching down to retrieve their wallets from their carry-ons so that they could buy some snacks. 

You pondered for a moment, deciding on whether or not you should wake Dami up. She looked far too comfortable for you to do so and keep a clear conscience, and you knew she needed the rest anyway; the first few stops of the tour had drained her a bit more than she had prepared for. 

So you resolved to buy something for her instead. You already knew the foods that she preferred, after all, and she could eat them whenever she naturally woke up. It was a win-win in your mind.

Upon rifling through your bag and grabbing some of the cash you had stashed away, you took a second to admire her. The curve of her face was visible in the low light, soft and as pretty as always, and a small pout pulled at her lips, making her cheeks puff out slightly. It truly took every ounce of self control you possessed to refrain from poking them; but you prevailed in the end. 

Her chest rose and fell softly, lulled and gentle like waves lapping on a shore. It brought you comfort just seeing her like that, so cozy and peaceful. She deserved every second of it. 

“Miss?” An approaching, hushed voice asked, addressing you. 

You raised your head and were met with a pleasant smile from one of the attendants. The aisle’s sidelights were on at her feet, ensuring that her movements were well guided. 

“Would you like some refreshments?” She pulled the cart into view and pressed a button, turning the lights of it on so that you could see what each tier had to offer. 

You made quick work of choosing and paying, and before long she was quietly thanking you and handing over all of your goodies. Once you successfully got them all and unlocked the small tray attached to the seat in front of you, you pulled it down over your lap and laid everything out to sort. 

A minute or so later, once your work was done, you sat back with a happy sigh and snuck a glance at Dami. 

Although you had failed to notice it in your previously busy state, it became apparent that she had shifted closer to you. She was curled up a little more, and turned on her side, facing you. It awarded you a perfect vantage point for viewing the subtle smile on her lips; clearly whatever she was dreaming about was good, and that made you happy. 

One of her hands had fallen onto the armrest, with her palm upturned towards the ceiling. It peeked out of her sweater paw, tempting you. 

You succumbed to your weakness and reached over, carefully intertwining your fingers with her own. 

She reacted on instinct, still fully asleep; her hand curled into your slightly warmer one, and a quiet noise of contentment left her. She moved closer once again, and before you knew it her head had found its way to your shoulder, nestling there. Her warm breath fanned out across your neck, almost tickling. 

Snacking, you decided, could wait a while. Sleep was creeping up on you, anyway, and moving was no longer an option. 

You eased your head down atop hers and settled a little more in the seat, getting comfortable for the both of you. Your eyes fluttered shut as the smell of her shampoo washed over you, and you gently rubbed your cheek against her soft hair, allowing sleep to begin dragging you under. 

—

When you awoke a few hours later, things in the cabin were slightly busier than before. A few more people had rejoined the world of the conscious, and glimmers of hazy, early morning sunlight attempted to shine their way in through the plane’s oval windows. 

The tray across your lap had been cleared off and returned to its vertical position, providing room for you to comfortably move around and stretch the tension from your muscles. A blanket was draped over your body as well, courtesy of Dami. 

You blinked the sleep from your eyes and lifted your head from her shoulder, finding that somewhere along the way you had traded positions with her. She looked over at you, and her face neared yours in the process. 

“Sleep well, baby?” She smiled sweetly, pushing her glasses up a little higher on the bridge of her nose. 

You nodded, still not fully alert yet. The fog of sleep weighed heavily on your mind and clouded your senses. Perhaps that explained why when you felt something soft and warm against your thigh, tucked away beneath the blanket, you didn’t immediately register it as her hand. 

You peeked over at her illuminated phone screen and discovered that she was in the middle of reading a book. 

“How long have you been up?” The question came out as a groggy mumble.

Judging by the opened bag of gummies tucked away in her seat pocket, you guessed it had been at least a few minutes. You were glad to know that she liked what you got her.

Her lips pursed in thought. “Not long. Maybe half an hour or so.”

“Good. I know you needed it.”

“Yeah?” She grinned. “You were out like a light, too, you know.” 

Your face twisted into an anticipatory grimace at that. “Did I snore?”

Her head shook lightly as she removed her glasses and put them in her bag, and you visibly relaxed. 

“No, sweetheart. But you did get a little fidgety,” she revealed. “I was afraid you were having a nightmare.”

“What made you think that?”

She shot a quick glance around before moving a little closer to you. “Well, for one, you kept saying my name. And it sounded desperate, too, like something big was about to happen.”

Warmth rushed to your cheeks as her explanation sent realization crashing down onto you. 

“And you squirmed in your seat, too,” she continued, seemingly oblivious to your embarrassment. 

“But when I touched you, you stopped.” She shrugged, and the movement caused her hand to move a little. Her knuckles brushed against your center, just light enough to draw your attention. 

“Dami…” you started, before lowering your voice a bit more to spare your own pride, “...I don’t think that was a nightmare.”

When you pulled away enough to get a good look at her face, you witnessed a sinister change take place. 

“No?” She toyed, using the lilt in her voice to further tease you. “What else could it have been, then?” The innocence in her smile disappeared, opting instead to rebrand itself as arrogance. 

“You already know,” you muttered, blushing a little harder and turning your head away. 

Although things in the cabin were more active than before, concealment and deniability were made available by the relative darkness that still remained. It was a decent remedy for your shyness, and you silently thanked your lucky stars for it. 

And, for what it was worth, Dami was making sure to keep her voice hushed and her movements covered. Her aim wasn’t to make this unenjoyable for you; she just simply lived for teasing you every now and again… and she couldn’t deny that the thought of public play with you did something to her. 

“Mmm,” she hummed, unconvinced. “I don’t think I do, jagi. You’ll have to tell me.”

Her hand worked a little higher on your thigh, caressing the sensitive skin there. Hidden desire guided it, leading her to pull your legs apart a little more and grant herself better access. 

But you stopped her, quickly encircling your fingers around her wrist and preventing her from continuing. 

“Don’t start something that we can’t finish.”

She chuckled to herself at that. 

“Who says we can’t?” She asked, entirely serious, as she brought her face near yours again. Her eyes flitted across your features, taking their time to study them before eventually falling to your lips. Her tongue unconsciously poked out and slid across her own. 

“That bathroom is not big enough for us to fuck in.” You asserted.

“I can make you cum right here, Y/N/N. No need to even get up.” She stated lowly, her deep voice full of husky confidence. You drew in a sharp breath at her forwardness, and she noticed the change. 

When you shied away again, she took the opportunity to lean in and press a kiss to your neck. Her lips were pillowy against your sensitive skin – soft enough to tickle, even, had the stifling tension between you been absent. 

Warmth radiated from her, beaconing you closer. She was right there. She wanted you. She could take you in under five minutes, too, probably, considering how worked up you were already becoming. She could make you feel so good…

Who were you to deny yourself something so perfect?

Your grip on her wrist loosened, slowly but surely, as you handed control back over to her and submitted to whatever fate she had planned. 

She kissed the area just below your jawline while simultaneously spreading your legs apart again. Their innocent trembling was obvious – you were inexperienced with sex in this sort of setting – but it only made her smile and fall for you a little more.

"You're precious, jagi," she complimented. "I've got you; don't worry. Just let me help," she coaxed, kissing you again between the words. She switched hands in order to offer a better angle, and you sighed helplessly at the feeling of her fingers fully rubbing up and down your clothed center. 

“Go slow,” you pleaded, briefly peering over her shoulder. 

Relaxed movements would be easier to cover up if you got caught. 

The upturn of her lips against your neck was obvious. “Remember this moment when you’re begging me to speed up,” she teased. 

“Just shut up and fuck me.”

She tutted, “You know, maybe you need another nap–”

“Yubin.” Your voice was sharp, full of warning. The two of you truly bickered like a married couple sometimes. 

“Alright, Y/N/N,” she giggled a little against your skin, and you felt a small smile growing on your face, too, in time with the roll of your eyes. 

Her hand finally slid into your panties, putting distance between your wet skin and the ruined material. When her fingertips parted your folds, she felt just how much arousal awaited her; a quiet, surprised groan slipped out of her mouth at the sensation, and you blushed a little harder in response. She tended to be the quiet type during sex, so even the most subtle of her sounds made your heart pump a bit faster. 

“I knew you’d be wet, but this much?” She whispered breathlessly, sounding amazed as she collected more of your slick and circled your clit with her thumb. She toyed with you, fully enjoying the way your body responded so easily to her. 

“All your fault.” You struggled out. 

Without any further warning, two of her fingers slid into your entrance. 

Your walls fluttered in response, enveloping them in their warmth in an attempt to coax them in further. One of your hands instinctively reached out and tangled in the front of her shirt, pulling her in, and the other grasped helplessly at the armrest that it laid across. 

“Still so tight, Y/N,” she sighed at how soft you were – how smooth. Her fingers pulled out almost completely, curling on their way, before she eased them back in. She wanted so badly to see you spread out, dripping for her; but she settled, opting instead to focus on every little movement and sound you made as her mind filled itself with images.

A slow grind took control of your hips, aiming to lessen the ache. The motion brought her palm into contact with your swollen clit, and when she noticed, she decided to help. She rubbed it, applying a delicious kind of pressure that made your legs shake a little. 

Her free hand grabbed your chin and turned your head, forcing you to look at her. Through the dark, she watched your brows knit together in pleasure. Before you had the chance to bite your lip, you felt hers sliding across it, trapping it between her own. 

She kissed you passionately, greedily swallowing up the moan that you let out into her mouth and adding the smallest bit of speed to her movements. 

The seat made a squeak beneath you – a product of your grinding growing sloppy. Your fingers weakly tightened in her shirt as you fought your inhibitions; it felt too good to stop or slow down, but you ran the risk of selling yourselves out at this rate. 

She bit your lip and pulled away, allowing you a moment to breathe. 

“Yu–”

Her name cut off abruptly in your throat when her fingers went even deeper, brushing up against your most sensitive spot in the process. Your thighs clamped around her hand in a desperate attempt to keep her in place and prevent her from slipping away.

“Fuck,” she cursed harshly. “You’re doing so well, baby.”

You pulsed around her at that, and both of you felt it. Sensuality ruled her every move, commanding them just as she commanded your body; but beyond it – beyond that languid, brewing passion – a real sense of need reigned supreme. She was just as desperate to get you to your high as you were to reach it. 

Nothing was capable of turning her on as much as watching you come undone for her. The idea alone added a certain, sudden roughness to her movements that had your stomach flipping in excitement. 

A kind of turbulence that you never wanted to end. 

“Just a–” you sighed, biting back another moan, “...a little more. I’m getting close.”

She took your plea as an order, not stopping for a second. It was hard to restrain herself, but she fought against her more primal urge to pound into you. The tenderness was a nice change, she supposed, as you turned your head further to the side and the warm, flushed skin of your cheek pressed to hers. Your every subsequent whimper and whine traveled right to her ear – the most alluring kind of music.

How could you be so perfect?

“Come on, pretty girl. Make a mess for me.” She commanded lowly, feeling you teeter on the edge of ecstasy. The blanket barely covered her wanton ministrations now. 

Somewhere ahead, further up the aisle, a man stood up from his seat. You could see it through the tiny gaps in between the chairs – small flashes of motion that indicated he was turning your way. 

It sent an icy streak of panic through you, but, oddly, your body couldn’t stop. Though your mind was pleading to wait – to still Dami’s hand until the potential crisis was averted – your desire overruled it. You grabbed her wrist again, encouraging her to quicken her pace. 

She raised a brow, looking between you and the approaching man. He was on his way to the restroom that resided a few rows behind you, she deduced. 

“Baby…”

“Just keep going,” you whined, trembling. 

She nodded and obediently followed your instructions. 

Though being caught wasn’t something you necessarily wanted, the thrill of it brought on an undeniably arousing kind of shame. 

Dami’s red cheeks would sell you out immediately, despite the futile excuse her kiss-bitten lips would still attempt to make. Your flushed skin and mussed clothes would further incriminate you, only worsened by her hand in your pants. 

Truly, the risky environment excited you far more than you cared to admit. To know that she wanted you so badly in that moment that she didn’t care who knew – who saw – pushed you further and further towards the edge. 

The passenger grew increasingly closer – now just a matter of a two or three rows away as he tiredly shuffled his way down the narrow walkway. He greeted a stray few people all the while, bidding them hello. 

Dami leaned into you, pressing her lips to your neck. She kissed and sucked at the skin just below your pulsepoint, leaving a mark for you to admire later. She sped up her movements inside of you and eagerly rubbed your aching clit.

“Yubin, I’m–” you struggled out, tightly shutting your eyes. 

“Cum, baby,” she directed. 

Unable to hold out any longer, you let yourself go, falling into paradise. You sunk your teeth into her shoulder to muffle your whines, and she herself moaned at the sensation. 

The man passed by mere seconds after, obliviously nodding in your direction as his eyes sought yours in the dark. 

Your body was still tingling as it recovered from the high of your orgasm.

“Morning, ladies,” he said. 

“Morning,” you both responded in unison, sounding so out of breath it made you laugh together afterward. 

Once he had officially disappeared, you kissed the bite mark on Dami's shoulder as a silent way of apologizing. She smiled as she eased her fingers out of you, making more of a mess in your panties on the way. 

“Told you I could get you off,” she whispered through a grin, and kissed your cheek. 

You’d never been quite so grateful for the dark. 

[halfbakedideas]

Days That Pass

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt: ‘count the days’.

—x—x—x—

The Doctor with the new-old face moved in with the Temple-Nobles. That in itself wasn’t hard. What was hard was actually living with them.

He had never been one to stay still for long. They’d been bad at it when he’d last worn this face; but nowhere near as bad as their fish-fingers-and-custard self. That one had been downright awful at stillness.

They managed a grand total of four hours of ‘still’ on the first day before he’s up and moving again, heading back into the TARDIS. Not to leave — he wasn’t going to leave, he’d promised their future self and Donna that he would stay in 2024.

Even though they knew that, Donna didn’t; she followed him to the TARDIS.

“You better not be trying to leave already, Spaceman,” Donna’s voice sounded out from behind him, echoing slightly.

They spun on his heel.

“What? Oh. no, no…I’m not. Came in here to do some repairs after how the TARDIS crashed yesterday,” The words tumbled out of their mouth.

She ended up sitting with him while they fiddled about beneath the console doing repairs that weren’t that urgent (the TARDIS could fix herself for the most part) but certainly helped quieten the nagging urge to run.

The days passed. The Doctor found himself counting the days. It’s not a conscious thing, at first. They wanted to make sure he would remember absolutely everything that happened during this period.

It was weird, counting up the days they spent with the Temple-Nobles instead of counting down to something ending.

…Okay that was a lie. He was also counting down. Counting down the days he had left with Donna before he lost her for a second, far more permanent time.

The last time he had worn this face all those years ago, they had made the mistake of going and finding out all the details surrounding Donna’s death.

It had been comforting (mostly) back then, to know she would be surrounded by family at her passing. The details had been comforting then, but not so much anymore. Because now he had their best friend back again and every day that passed meant one day closer to when they would lose her again.

So the Doctor did what he did when faced with any particularly negative thing: run away. Only this time no actual running was done.

They started another counter. Counting up.

Twenty-four days after the bigeneration, he bought a house. It was the solution to the looming problem of all the damage done to the Temple-Nobles’ house. Damage that he had responsible for. Blue tarps had been a temporary fix but a more permanent solution was needed.

The house-buying had nothing to do with the stepping-on-toes feeling that plagued him the entire month, not at all.

The Doctor defined this counter, the increasing one, with moments. Sitting outside to watch the sunrise with Donna; Helping Rose with her homework; Somehow managing to improve his interactions with Sylvia so they don’t run the risk of being slapped (again); Even sneaking out in the TARDIS with Rose to take her to see purple sunsets or try alien ice cream. Amongst dozens of other memories.

Despite how much they filled their days with, the Doctor’s still acutely aware of the counter counting down. No matter how much they tried to lose track of it he couldn’t, his brain wouldn’t let them.

It was Thursday, game night. Everyone was gathered in the living room to play The Game of Life. The Doctor was sitting on the sofa, with Rose to his right and the armrest to their left.

Later he would realise this wasn’t the best choice of game. They’d only chosen it because it was space-themed. But right now he was too busy being zoned out.

“Oi, Martian, your turn,” Donna called, leaning forward from Rose’s other side to look at them properly.

It was their turn yet they were blankly staring at the table like he had for the last twelve minutes. Donna would bet good money he wasn’t actually seeing the board.

He saw an older Donna being told she only had four months left to live, and then their best friend on her deathbed. The memories of a future yet to happen (and might not even happen anymore) had frozen them in place.

“Doctor?” Rose tried. A moment passed and still nothing.

When this happened before, he’d be back to normal again within minutes. Not this time.

“Take your turn, Mum,” Donna told Sylvia before she stood up and crossed around the table towards the Doctor. “Spaceman?”

They’d zoned out like this before, touch had brought him back out then so maybe it would now.

Donna reached out and touched the back of his hand. As soon as her fingertips touched, the Doctor jerked backwards, back thumping against couch cushions.

Some images slipped through from the contact, of an older version of herself. She only saw it for a few seconds but that was enough time to realise what it was : Their memories of her last moments.

He knew how she was going to die. It felt wrong for her to have seen it.

“Is it my turn?” they asked.

“You know how I die,”

He froze where they’d been reaching towards the spinner. “Yeah, I do…You weren’t supposed to see that,”

“So what, you were gonna keep it secret forever?”

“No! Not forever. And it might not even happen like that anymore,”

“How long have you known?” It’s hard to keep the horror-concern out of her voice. The last time he had zoned out was because he had been remembering her death.

The Doctor looked away.

“Not long I took you home,” That was very specifically vague.

That wasn’t the last time the Doctor got lost in those memories. The two of them eventually talk about it at-length, and Donna finds out about their counting down counter.

They’d always know exactly how long they had left with Donna, that would always loom over his head, but adjusting to the slower life in 2024 helped. Distracting themself with both mundane and adventurous things helped. Spending more time with Donna helped.

[karahalloway]

Thanksgiving - Part 4

Fandom: TRR - (Un)Common Attraction universe

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series: Thanksgiving

Synopsis: Harper and Drake fly to Bozeman, MT to spend their first Thanksgiving together with Harper’s family. 

Word count: 5,400

Warnings: E (swearing, fluff, religion, references to smut, aggro, violence no human casulaties)

A/N1: So, this installment was supposed to wrap up Thanksgiving night at the Gales', but (as per usual), it ended up running away from me, so there will be at least one more part (I know I said that last time as well, but I don't control these characters)

A/N2: Once again, apologies in advance for any errors or misinterpretations in relation to the American football. I sliced and diced the Broncos vs. Cowboys game together based on real life comments I transcribed from my husband over the course of a few games we watched together, so pretty much all of the reactions in the fic are genuine yes, hubby is a very opinionated spectator 😆

A/N3: This is also my second submission for @choicesholidays' 2023 Winter Holidays Prompt Event, and the prompt that this installment fits with is Week 1: I’m thankful for you and Week 3: This is definitely going to land me/you/us on the naughty list!

"Oh, look who decided to show up..." grouses Tyler as Drake and I descend the stairs.

"Sorry," I say, pulling my cardigan over my shoulders. "We—"

"Used up all the hot water?" my brother offers dryly. "And then some?"

Justin gives him a shove.

"What?" Tyler objects offendedly. "They were in there for almost two hours!"

"I pulled 36 rose thorns outta her," Drake tells him.

Tyler visibly blanches. "Shit."

"You okay, Harp?" asks Brody, stepping up to me.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assure him with a wan smile. "Just —"

"Oh, honey!" cries Mom, flying out of the kitchen with outstretched arms. "That's terrible! Do you—?"

"Ouch!" I hiss as her concerned arms fly around me... pressing inevitably into my wounds.

"Oh! Sorry, sweetie!" she exclaims, yanking her hands back. "I didn't mean to hurt you! I just wanted to give you a hug!"

"Yeah, those are going to have to wait a while..." I mutter sourly, rubbing a particularly tender spot on my shoulder.

"Such rotten luck..." she bemoans with a sigh. "Especially on Thanksgiving!"

"Trust me, I know..." I assure her, glancing wryly at Drake. "It was definitely not part of the plan!"

He shakes his head with a smirk as he helps himself to the twelve-pack of Busch that Brody had already opened up.

"Do you need anything?" my mom presses. "Ice pack? Hot water bottle? Painkillers?"

"Something stronger?" quips Nana as she puts the finishing touches on the apple pies.

"I'm fine," I tell her. "Drake already loaded me up with Advil upstairs. They should be kicking in any minute."

"Let's get you fed, then," declares Dad, hoisting the steaming turkey out of the oven. "Everything should still be hot."

"Sorry for making you wait," I say as we all make our way to the dining table. "Anything we can do to help?"

"Nothing — apart from digging in!" he replies, placing the oversized bird into the middle of the table.

"Not before we say grace!" Nana reminds us imperiously, arriving as well after having loaded the pies into the oven.

Groans rise up from my brothers.

"Can't we just eat?" asks Tyler. "We'll miss the start of the game!"

Nana whips him with her kitchen towel. "Not on your life, buster! You may not go to church like you should on Sundays, but you can still take two minutes out of your day to think about something other than yourself! Especially on Thanksgiving!"

"I think about stuff!" Tyler objects, rubbing his arm.

"Like that pistol at the gun range?" smirks Brody. "Who's more likely to shoot you than date you?"

"No..." snips Tyler, looking studiously away.

"Suuuure," grins Justin, elbowing his brother meaningfully.

Tyler reddens further.

"I quite like the tradition," interjects Mom with a smile. "Helps remind us of all our little blessings in life. Like the fact that we have food on the table... A roof over our heads..." She reaches out to clasp my hand under the table. "Things to celebrate..."

I return her smile as I give her fingers a squeeze.

"Okay, fine," accedes Tyler. "But can we skip the hand-holding? I'd like to keep my fingers— Ow! The hell was that—!"

"Language!" warns Dad.

"We're doing this properly," decrees Nana, snapping the kitchen towel back onto her shoulder. "Without any goofing around!"

She offers her hands with a decisive note of finality.

Tyler stares at it for a long moment before taking it with a beleaguered sigh.

"Now your brother," she prompts.

Tyler holds his hand out grumpily.

Justin takes it with an equally crabby expression.

I hold my free hand out to Drake, who laces his fingers through mine with a warm smile as the rest of my family link up as well.

"Right," declares Nana. "Who wants to do the honours?"

Awkward silence descends on the table.

I heave a breath. Guess I'll just—

"I'll do it."

My head snaps to my left. "Really?"

Drake responds to my surprised outburst with a shrug. "Someone's gotta. Plus, like your mom said — we got things to celebrate."

My heart swells with emotion as I feel him run his thumb over the engagement ring sitting on my finger.

He meets my gaze with that molten mocha look that always gives me butterflies before turning back to the rest of the table.

My family's eyes swivel onto him expectantly.

Drake clears his throat. "I'd like to say thanks. To everyone at this table. Not just for inviting me to share Thanksgiving with y'all, but for welcoming me into your family. I know we didn't exactly meet under the best circumstances — the first, the second, or hell... even the third time!"

Chuckles rise up from around the table.

Tyler leans into Justin accusatorially. "How come he gets a free pass for cussing?"

Brody punts him under the table.

"So, I'm grateful for the trust you placed in me — continue to place in me — when it comes to your daughter... your sister... your granddaughter," Drake continues, meeting everyone's eyes in turn. "It goes without saying that she's smart, beautiful, got more grit than a gravel road, and obviously banged her head at some point—"

More chuckles float into the air.

"—because I still have no clue what the hell she's doing with me," he adds with a wry smirk, glancing over at me. "But I know that I love her, and will go to the ends of the Earth for her, come hell or high water. And I know we're not quite married yet, but I truly am grateful for every day, every minute, every second I get to spend with her, because life is too damn short, and I honestly don't deserve her."

I squeeze his hand as my vision becomes blurred with feeling.

"And I know that the past six months have been tough — for everyone at this table — but I don't regret the outcome. Because each hurdle, each hardship led to this little moment right here — all of us 'round this table, sharing a Thanksgiving meal together."

I feel my mouth curve into a small smile of agreement.

Drake takes a breath. "So thank you, Lord, for blessing us with this bounty — not just the food that we are about to eat, but the bonds of love and family that we get to share and strengthen each and every day. Amen."

There is more than one hoarse voice as my family reciprocates the traditional affirmation.

"Oh, Drake," croons Mom, wiping the heartfelt tears from her eyes. "That was beautiful!"

"Yeah, seriously," grunts Tyler 'round a sniffle. "What gives, man?"

"Are you actually crying?" asks Justin in bewilderment.

"No..." mutters Tyler, blinking rapidly. "Just... just got a stupid eyelash..."

"Uh-huh..." comments Brody... though Drake's speech must've touched him as well, because he sidelines his usual ribbing in order to reach up to flick a wayward drop of wetness out of the corner of his own eye.

"At least now you know how to do it for next year," declares Nana. Reaching across the table she adds, "That was lovely, dear. Thank you."

Drake accepts the gesture with a soft smile. "Just spoke from the heart, ma'am."

"As you should," she affirms wisely, settling back into her seat.

I lean into Drake with a wry smirk. "Now the rest of us will never measure up..."

"Not everything's a competition, Gale," he murmurs, lifting my hand to his lips to drop a kiss on my knuckles, his mocha eyes dancing.

I flick my foot against his as I stifle a snort.

"Yes, thank you, Drake," acknowledges Dad with a nod. "And now, for the main event."

Brody shunts the turkey closer to the edge of the table as Dad pushes himself up and reaches for the carving knife and meat fork.

"What piece do you want?" I ask Drake as my dad sets to work dissecting the steaming bird.

"Y'all take first dibs," he replies. "I'm easy."

"You sure?" I press. "There's usually a fight for the wings and the legs. So, if you want in on that, you'll need to jump on it."

"I'm good," he assures me. "You just pick what you want."

"Drake?" asks Dad, as if on cue. "Breast, wing, or leg?"

"Please don't say wing..." prays Tyler. "Please don't say wing..."

Brody elbows his brother in the side, eliciting an annoyed grunt.

"I'm good with anything," Drake replies.

"Nah, son," Dad insists. "You were kind enough to say grace, so you get first pick. So, what'll it be?"

Drake glances 'round the table like it's a high-stakes poker game.

My family eye him in turn, waiting for his decision.

Looking back up at my dad, he says, "Breast is good."

There is a collective exhale from my brothers.

"You sure?" Dad asks, repeating my own question from earlier. "There's plenty of—"

"I'm good," Drake confirms, holding his plate out.

"Okay," shrugs Dad, slicing a decent chunk of meat off. "Just don't be shy about seconds."

"Learnt my lesson yesterday," Drake assures him with a grin.

Knowing laughter bubbles up around the table.

"Harper?" asks Dad, turning to me.

"Hey!" objects Tyler. "Why is she next?"

"Because she's the only one of the four of you not living here anymore," Dad replies. "Which means she's a guest, and guests get first cut."

Tyler slumps back into his chair with a dejected huff. "Never gonna get any wings at this rate..."

"Leg for me, please, Dad," I say. "And a wing."

Tyler throws his hands up in the air. "See!"

Dad ignores him as he proceeds to dole out the request onto my plate.

"Thanks," I say, placing the food back in front of me.

"You're welcome, honey," Dad says with a smile before turning back to take orders from the rest of the table.

I reach for my fork and knife.

Drake leans in again. "Shouldn't we—?"

He goes mute as I dump half the turkey leg onto his plate. "Here."

His eyes snap up to mine. "Gale, I said I—"

"You can thank me later," I tell him, giving him the wing as well while nabbing some breast from him in exchange.

Drake stares at his plate for a moment before reaching over to give my knee a squeeze.

I pat his hand under the table.

I know he'd been trying to be polite, opting for his third choice instead of his first or second, so he wouldn't cause any upset. But I also know that he loves wings — I mean, who doesn't? — and the darker meat always tastes juicer than the white. So, I'm not going to let his Southern sensibilities cheat him out of genuinely being able to enjoy his Thanksgiving meal. Especially after everything he's done for us today — fixing the oven, prepping the food, and spending thirty minutes with a needle and tweezers plucking thorns out of me with infinite patience and precision.

"Help yourselves," Mom urges, shoving the mash towards us. "You know you don't have to stand on ceremony with us."

"Thanks, Mom," I say, taking the dish from her.

While the various sides and garnishes get passed around, Dad finishes carving up the turkey, and we settle into easy conversation in front of loaded plates.

"So, I hear you're flying down to Texas tomorrow?" Nana asks as she spears an asparagus.

"That's right, ma'am," nods Drake, swallowing down the bite he's just taken. "Need to make a quick detour for my Aunt Lee."

"She forgot something?" queries Nana.

"No," I correct 'round a mouthful of mash. "We need to get her."

"She's never flown before," Drake clarifies. "Or been out of the country. But my sister wants her to come to the wedding, so..."

"We're her VIP escort," I finish wryly.

"VIP or not," notes my Mom, "I'm sure she'll appreciate the company. Airports can be very bewildering!"

"You just need to follow the signs," I say.

"Hey," interjects Tyler, jabbing a forkful of turkey at Mom. "You're talking to the parent who got lost in Costco."

"They put the petunias in the wrong place!" objects Mom.

"You mean outside...?" deadpans Justin.

Mom huffs wearily in reply.

"Have you decided where the two of you want to get hitched?" asks Dad, strategically changing the subject.

"No," I admit. "We've been so involved with Savannah and Bertrand's wedding that we haven't really had time to think about ours..."

"Well, I know it's nothing fancy, but you're more than welcome to have it here," he offers. "The yard's plenty big enough.. Or there's the church down the road, if you were thinking something more traditional..."

"Thanks, Dad," I say graciously. "We'll definitely—"

"And I can make the cake!" adds Mom with gusto. "With those little sugar flowers, and—"

"Stop trying to plan their wedding!" chides Nana. "They might want to get married in Texas! Or New York! Or Hawaii!"

"Well, like I said," I interject diplomatically. "We haven't quite decided..."

"But if not," accedes Dad, "you know we're more than happy to chip in. In whatever way you need."

"Including helping you elope," winks Justin.

Mom throws her bread roll at him. "Don't you dare! If I find out my one and only daughter got married without me, I'll... I'll..."

"Well, there goes Plan A..." mutters Drake as my mom heaves a shuddering breath.

"Told ya..." I whisper back with a grin.

He leans in closer. "Fine. But I expect you to make it up to me on the honeymoon."

I smack his arm.

His hot gaze bores into me. "You think I'm joking..."

Despite our earlier escapades in the shower, I feel the heat flare between my legs in response to the intensity in his eyes.

Especially as he adds in a low voice, "We'll be doing nothing but each other for two weeks, baby."

"Okay, enough wedding talk!" declares Tyler. "It's game time!"

"No, it's not!" objects Justin. "I'm still eating!"

"Well, eat faster then!" urges Brody, wiping the gravy from his plate. "The kickoff waits for no man!"

"What about dessert?" asks Mom. "Don't you want to—?"

"I think the pie will have to wait," I note dryly as my brothers push their chairs back.

"Drake?" she asks hopefully. "Do you want—?"

"Thanks, but J was right," he replies, leaning back in his chair. "I'm stuffed fuller than the poor bird sitting on the table."

"There's always room for dessert!" Nana counters. "Especially when your missus made it!"

"It wasn't just me," I tell her. "You helped too!"

"It's yours in all the ways that matter, dear," she insists with a proud smile. "I just helped you put it together."

"Well, if it's anything like the pancakes, I'm sure it'll be worth the wait," Drake assures her.

"Ha! Your boy's got more silver on his tongue than I have teeth in my mouth!" exclaims Nana. But I can tell that she's pleased with Drake's response.

"What about some apple pie moonshine?" asks Dad conspiratorially. "Got any room for that?"

Drake considers the offer. "I can be tempted..."

"Good," approves Dad with a grin, slapping Drake on the shoulder as he gets up. "I'll grab the bottle."

"Yo! Texas!" calls Tyler from the living room. "You comin', or what?"

"Go," I tell him. "I'll help with the clean up."

"You sure?" he asks, running his gaze over me concernedly.

"Yes," I assure him. "It's not like I broke an arm or anything."

His mouth twitches. "Opinions may vary...."

I give him a shove. "Want to rethink that prognosis, Doctor?"

He leans in to drop a kiss on my cheek with a chuckle. "Fine. But you better holler if you need help."

"I'll be fine," I tell him, turning my head to peck him on the lips. "I need to work all this food down somehow first, anyway."

His breath tickles my mouth. "Well, if you want suggestions..."

"Oh, my God!" I cry in exasperation, snacking his chest. "Just go already!"

"You sure they're not married already?" asks Nana prosaically. "They act like they've been together fifteen years!"

"Oh, not you too!" deplores Mom, dropping her head into her hands.

"What?" objects Nana. "It was just an observation!"

"Well, don't give them ideas!" exhorts Mom. "I'll walk at least one of my children down the aisle, if it's the last thing I do!"

My head snaps 'round. "Isn't that Dad's—?"

"He can have the first dance," declares Mom with a dismissive wave of her hand.

I stare at her in bewilderment.

"What did I do now?" queries Dad, reappearing with the jar of moonshine.

"Nothing!" Mom assures him with an angelic smile. "Just wedding talk!"

"More like wedding sabotage," mutters Nana around the rim of her gin and tonic.

"Umm..." is all I can manage as Drake tries and fails not to choke on his own snort of laughter.

"They're kicking off!" hollers Justin from the living room.

"Better excuse yourself quick, son," advises Dad, grabbing a pair of glasses out. "Otherwise you'll be stuck at this table for the rest of the night, wondering what possessed you to propose in the first place!"

"Robert!" exclaims Mom in outrage.

"Go," I urge Drake as my dad disappears into the living room. "We'll join you in a minute."

"Okay," he accedes. Turning back to the table, he adds, "Thank you for dinner. Y'all really went all out."

"Oh, you're welcome, sweetie," Mom tells him with a beaming smile. "But are you sure you had enough?"

"I'm sure," he assures her, patting his belly. "But I'll be back for some of that pie at halftime!"

"We'll keep it warm for you," Nana assures him.

"Appreciate it," Drake grins in reply.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Mom exclaims as Drake turns to follow my dad. "I should get the ice cream out of the freezer — let it warm up a little."

"I can do it," I offer, pushing my chair back. "Seeing as I did nothing earlier."

"Don't you want to watch as well?" asks Mom in surprise.

"With that much testosterone crammed into one room?" I quip. "I need some apple pie first!"

"Good thing we made two, then!" agrees Nana.

"I'll get some plates out," Mom declares, getting up as well.

Dispersing from the table, the three of us set about our designated tasks while the sounds of the game float through the house to the accompaniment of various exclamations coming from the sofa.

"Boom!" yells Drake. "That's how you sack!"

"What the shit, ref!" erupts Brody at the same time. "He was over first down!"

"Yeah, right!" scoffs Drake. "He was—"

"Shut up, Texas!" shouts Tyler. "Your opinion doesn't count!"

"Actually, he's right," steps in Justin. "He got pushed off before—"

"Whose side are you on?!" Brody and Tyler yell back.

"Sounds like an exciting game," observes Nana as she pulls the pies out of the oven.

"A little too exciting," I reply dryly, grabbing a spoon out for the ice cream.

"Oh, they're just having fun," Mom assures me, popping a bottle of caramel Bailey's open. "You know how boys get when they're together..."

"Yeah," I mutter. "That's what I'm worried about..."

The last thing I need right now, on top of everything else that's gone sideways today, is Drake and my brothers falling out over a stupid game when they've been getting along so well with each other. Especially when there is actually money — and pride — on the line.

Maybe this had been a bad idea...

Peeking 'round the corner, I catch sight of the guys on the sofa, eyes glued to the TV.

"Stop him!" urges Drake as the Broncos receiver makes a dash down the field. "Flatten the bastard!"

"Keep going, Patrick!" counters Brody.

"Sweet fuckin' Jesus!" groans Drake as the Cowboys defence finally manage to push the Denver player out of bounds. "How many of y'all do you need to stop a runner!"

"The whole team," laughs Dad from the other side of the room.

"Seriously?" objects Tyler. "You're not gonna call him out on the f-word?"

"Oh, just let it go, T!" groans Brody.

"Maybe if you learn to drink 'shine like a man, Dad'll give you a free pass too!" Justin tells his younger brother.

"I make no promises," comes the deadpan response.

I feel a smile quirk at my lips. Okay. Maybe it's not so bad.

Picking my plate and glass up, I make my way over to the sofa as well...

...and nearly spill everything onto the carpet as Drake erupts into a fit of rage just as I'm about to sit down next to him.

"What the hell, Diggs!" he bellows, throwing his hand out at the TV. "How could you let that go!"

Brody jumps up from the couch with a celebratory fist-pump as the Broncos’ offence snaps the ball out of the air and tumbles across the line. "Ha! In your face, Texas!"

"One job! One fuckin' job..." growls Drake under his breath as he stares daggers at the screen.

The Broncos quickly line up for their field goal, adding a one-point conversion to their score.

"How's the game going?" asks Mom, coming over with Nana to join us.

"Depends who you ask," I tell her dryly, spooning up a forkful of pie while Drake continues to fume next to me.

"Broncos are winning," Brody declares proudly.

"Not for long," Drake mutters as the Cowboys line up for their first snap.

Dak Prescott gets the ball and launches it down the field.

"Catch it, Lamb, catch it...!" urges Drake.

Yellow flags fly into the field as the ref's whistle blows.

"What the fuck?" comes the outraged exclamation from next to me. "There was nothing—!"

"Personal foul," advises Justin. "Cowboys offence."

Sure enough, one of the Dallas linemen gets called out for holding.

"Oh, fuck you, ref!" objects Drake as the slow-mo replay is shown. "That's a bullshit call!"

"Not really," counters Justin. "That Cowboy all but ripped Browning's jersey off!"

"It didn't interfere with the damn play!" insists Drake heatedly. "We're owed that yardage!"

"Not according to the refs," shrugs Brody.

"Putain de bordel de merde..." cusses Drake under his breath.

"Jesus!" exclaims Mom as the teams reset. "Things must really be bad if we're swearing in Spanish now!"

"It's French," I correct wearily.

The ball is snapped again and the Cowboys manage to gain some ground, despite stiff opposition from the Broncos’ defence.

"The fuck, Darby! That was an easy pass!" exclaims Drake as the Cowboys fumble the ball.

"Cowboys are choking!" sniggers Tyler gleefully. "It's what they do best!"

"Shut up!" snaps Drake in response.

I lay a comforting hand on his knee, but he's too engrossed in the game to notice...

...especially when the Broncos take advantage of the turnover to score another touchdown.

"That's why you don't tackle like that!" yells Drake, springing to his feet in a fit of rage as the ball crosses the end zone.

"Ha!" gloats Brody victoriously as the Broncos convert the down. "16-0 against the number one offence in the league! We'll have you beat by the third quarter, easy!"

"Fuck you, man..." Drake grits, downing the remainder of his moonshine angrily.

"Top up?" offers Dad.

"I'm not sure that's—"

But my feeble protest gets very viscerally overruled as Drake thrusts his glass out in front of me.

I sink back into the sofa. This is going to be a long game...

The rest of the first half ticks down, with Dallas managing to squeeze a touchdown in just before the whistle blows.

"Fucking finally...!" grumbles Drake as the game cuts to ads.

"Someone suck the juice out of Cowboys?" asks Nana. "They're all over the place tonight!"

"I thought they were supposed to be one of the top teams in the league," adds Mom, chewing thoughtfully on a bite of pie.

"Just... Just don't..." says Drake with a shake of his head as he flops back onto the couch.

"Who wants pie!" I ask, trying to lighten the mood a bit — and change the subject — before Drake has a total meltdown.

"I'm good," says Brody, reaching for another can of Busch instead.

Tyler and Justin shake their heads as well.

"Drake?" I ask hopefully.

He tips the remainder of his drink back by way of reply.

"All the more for me, then!" I declare with excessive chirpiness as I tramp back into the kitchen.

But if Drake picks up on my heavy dose of sarcasm, he doesn't react to it.

Arriving at the centre island, I reach for the serving spoon.

I know he got like this sometimes — way too engrossed and overtly involved. Especially when his team failed to live up to expectations and he was left watching helplessly from the sidelines.

Which grates on him all the more, given that he played for a college team during his first two years at the University of North Texas, and knows first-hand the difference between a good play and a bad one.

So, I can empathise with his outbursts. Even if I don't agree with them. Because, at the end of the day, it's just a stupid game played by a bunch of belligerent jocks who get paid way too much money to run up and down a field for a couple of hours.

And that's part of the reason why I never really caught the football bug despite growing up in a house with four brothers and a dad who live and breathe the game.

Dumping another serving of pie onto my plate, I dress it with a liberal dollop of ice cream before making my way back to the living room...

...but not before I grab a fresh glass from the cupboard as well.

Dropping my plate on the coffee table, I nab the bottle of moonshine and pour myself a couple of fingers. Because the way this game is going, Bailey’s isn’t really going to cut it.

"You're drinking too?" asks Tyler in bewilderment.

"You used to hate that stuff," adds Justin with wide eyes.

"Drake's a bad influence," I reply dryly, screwing the mason jar closed again.

"Has good taste, though!" quips Nana as she reaches for the amber-coloured liquor as well. "You really outdid yourself with this batch, Rob!"

Dad raises his own glass cordially in reply as the TSN commentators wrap up their predictions for the second half and the game resumes.

Downing my drink in one, grimace-inducing swig (Nana's right — it is good... just very strong), I take my seat again with some trepidation as the Broncos kick the ball across the field to the Cowboys.

As regardless of the outcome, beer cans and f-bombs are guaranteed to go flying as soon as the final whistle blows. It's just a question of who will be the perpetrator — Drake, or Brody.

"Run it! Run it! You're wide op—!" Drake emits a pained groan. "Oh, got the love of—!"

Brody claps his hands together in victory as the Bronco's defence tackles the Cowboys runner to the ground. "Suck it, Texas!"

"We still got possession," Drake reminds him as the Cowboys line up for a snap.

I continue to chip away at my pie in tense silence as Dak Prescott gets his hands on the ball and looks for a receiver.

"Throw it, dammit!" urges Drake. "You're gonna get—"

Prescott launches the ball at the last second before he gets sacked, but it goes wide, hitting the ground even though Lamb makes a desperate run for it.

"27 yards, man!" groans Drake. "How the fuck did you miss?"

"Broncos gonna win!" sing-songs Justin as he does a little shimmy on the couch. "Broncos gonna win!"

"Shut up!" snaps Drake.

Ten tense minutes later, Drake's mood only fouls further.

"What?!" he berates the screen as the ref denies the Cowboys some much-needed points. "What the hell do you mean 'he wasn't in control'! That was a goddamn touchdown!"

"Sucks to be you, Texas!" Brody chimes in gleefully as Dallas is forced to rerun the play.

Drake shoots daggers across the room even as the Cowboys fullback manages to throw himself over the top of the double line of blockers and land the ball in the end zone.

But the touchdown, and the subsequent field goal, seems to galvanise the Cowboys, especially since they know they're quickly running out of time to make up for all the points they conceded to the Broncos in the first half.

Possession switches to Denver, but the defensive coordinator must have been screaming at the linesmen while they had been sat on the bench, because the Broncos have to fight tooth and nail to make any headway down the field.

"58-yard field goal...?" asks Justin in disbelief as the Broncos’ kicker is brought on.

"He'll need more than a prayer to pull that off," agrees Tyler.

"He'll make it," Brody assures himself, hands clasped in front of his face in apparent prayer. "He'll make it."

Even McManus looks like he's seeking divine assistance as he prepares himself for the kick on the field.

The kicker's foot pulls back, and the ball goes sailing through the air. The Cowboys scramble to catch it...

...but the football sails decisively through the bars of the goal.

"Fuck yes!" screams Brody, shooting up from the couch with his arms in the air.

"I can't believe he made it..." gasps Mom.

"Boy's got some thighs on him," affirms Nana.

Tyler and Justin are staring at the screen in awe.

Even Drake looks moderately impressed.

The rest of the third quarter winds down, and after yet another ad break, the final fifteen minutes of game time rolls around.

"Now or nothing, guys," murmurs Drake fervently as the last quarter kicks off.

I finished my second helping of pie ages ago, so I have nothing left to keep me distracted from the almost choking anticipation in the room.

The teams battle it out on the screen as the clock ticks slowly down.

"Run it, run it!" yells Drake as the Broncos close off Prescott's options.

"He's behiiiiind you!" mocks Tyler 'round a pre-celebratory slice of apple pie.

"Oh, for the love of—!"

My eyes suddenly widen as I see the Dallas QB pull his arm back. "He's going for a Hail Mary!"

Drake rounds on me. "To who? There's no one fuck—!"

Prescott must've sensed the Broncos' linebacker bearing down on him because he launches the ball into the air at the last possible second. The football hurtles through the air as players scramble on both sides...

...and Cooper manages to snatch it from the air!

"Where the hell was that during the first half!" deplores Drake as Cooper lands on his feet and pegs it down the field, leaving the Broncos' defence to dust.

"Run, you piece of crap!" yells Brody at his team. "Run!"

But it's too little, too late, and Cooper somersaults the ball into the Denver end zone with a massive grin on his face as the crowd in the stadium goes ballistic.

"Fucking finally!" gripes Drake, slumping back into the couch in relief as the Cowboys gain their hard-fought six points.

"Not gonna help you, Texas," Justin reminds him. "You're 22 points down with two minutes to go."

"Two minutes is a long time, man," Drake counters as the Cowboys line up to attempt a two-point conversion.

And I don't blame them — they desperately need the points, even though it's a risky play.

"Not if we sack you first!" exults Brody as the Broncos take their revenge and the Cowboys' gamble backfires.

"Asshole!" cries Drake, shooting to his feet in anger. "Why the fuck did y—!"

Tyler's laughing on the floor. "Should've taken the kick, Texas!"

Something inside of Drake snaps. "Fils de pute!" he roars aiming a kick at the coffee table and sending it flying...

...right into the TV stand.

The 50’’ flatscreen teeters precariously, as if trying to decide its fate, before opting to crash unceremoniously to the floor.

Silence drops on the room as everyone stares at the carnage, the garbled sound of the TSN commentators' voices crackling feebly out of the busted speakers.

Even Nana is speechless.

Dad is the first to recover his faculties. "Well," he observes prosaically. "That's a new one..."

I finally manage to tear my gaze away from the scene of destruction to look up at Drake...

...only to find a blank space beside me.

"Dra—?"

Pissed-off footsteps echo down the foyer before the front door slams shut with a loud bang.

I heave a breath. "Great."

Thanksgiving continues in Part 5 - Coming Soon!

A/N: Before anyone asks, yes, I HC that Drake had a Christian — specifically Catholic — upbringing. Both his parents hail from areas where church attendance, Sunday school, baptisms, etc. would’ve been prevalent when they were growing up (Texas for Jackson and rural Cordonia for Bianca — if you recall, I switched their nationalities around for my rewrites), so it would make sense for the Walkers to have continued this tradition with their kids, especially when they were younger. I know a lot of people write Drake as an atheist (or even downright aversive to the concept of God and organised religion), and I can understand why people make this choice, but this is not the route that my Drake decided to take. And while in my fics he is not ‘actively’ religious (he doesn’t go to church, he’s not particularly insistent on having a church wedding, etc.), that religious upbringing is still part of his character (readers may have noticed this in some of the expressions and turns of phrase that he uses; the concept of prayer is also something that I’m planning to explore towards the end of (Less Than) Noble Intentions), so he would know, and not balk at the thought of, saying grace at the dinner table.

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Thanksgiving Only

@burnsoslow

[sofya-fanfics]

I Have Always Loved You

Fandom : Spy x Family

Relationship : Damian x Anya

My Flufftober 2023 contribution for the prompt : “Wait you love me?” - “I always have.”

I’m sorry for the mistakes, English is not my native language. I hope you like it.

Summary : Damian sat alone in the back of the room and bounced one leg up and down. He had had enough. He wanted to leave and brood. But Anya had insisted that he be there and he could not refuse. They had just graduated and Becky wanted to celebrate by throwing a party. Their entire class was there. Especially James, Damian thought with a frown. This boy annoyed him extremely. Especially when he was too close to Anya.

Disclaimer : Spy x Family belongs to Tatsuya Endo.

@flufftober

AO3 / FF.NET

Damian sat alone in the back of the room and bounced one leg up and down. He had had enough. He wanted to leave and brood. But Anya had insisted that he be there and he could not refuse. They had just graduated. After all these years at Eden Academy, they were finally graduating and Becky wanted to celebrate by throwing a party. Their entire class was there. Especially James, Damian thought with a frown.

This boy annoyed him extremely. Especially when he was too close to Anya. During their first years at the academy, Damian had never really paid attention to him. They were in the same class, but they had never really spoken to each other.

One day, when they were twelve, James and Anya had been pair up for a presentation. It brought them closer together. They talked, they laughed, they spent their free time together. Of course, Becky was always with them, but Damian was too jealous to notice her. Even then, they were together, laughing. Ewen and Emile stood in front of him, blocking his view of Anya and James.

“Damian, why are you staying alone ?” Ewen asked.

“We graduated ! Come have fun !” Emile continued.

Both had huge smiles on their faces and they wanted their best friend to enjoy the party. It was true that he graduated and it was true that he had to celebrate. However, he had this knot in his stomach that prevented him from having fun. But just because he was in a bad mood it did not mean he had to spoil his friends' party. He stood up suddenly.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

He headed towards the exit, ignoring his two friends who asked him to stay. He went out and the fresh air hit him. He could feel the difference in temperature compared to the heat inside. Maybe some fresh air would help him to calm his nerves.

“Damian !”

His heart skipped a beat. Anya ? What was she doing there ?

“Is everything alright ?” She asked. “You left so quickly.”

“It’s okay,” he answered, pretending to be indifferent.

Anyway, he thought, how could she know if he was okay or not, since she spent all her time glued to James. Anya opened her eyes wide as if she was surprised. Had he answered too abruptly without realizing it ? He wanted to apologize, but Anya cut him off.

“Why don’t you like James ?”

For a second, Damian did not know what to say. He expected everything but that.

“Why did you say that ?” He managed to ask.

“You're not very nice to him. Even if you're not always very nice to everyone.”

Damian winced as he thought about how he had treated Anya when they were children. But she never held a grudge against him and had become his friend.

“With James it’s different,” Anya continued. “I can see you don't like him. If you got to know him...”

Damian rolled his eyes. She wanted him to become friends with James, but that was something he refused.

“You’ll see he’s very nice.”

“Forget it Anya.”

“I'm sure you could become friends.”

“I told you to forget it !”

Why was she insisting ? Why did not she understand that he did not want to be friends with James ? Why did not she see how he felt ? Anger and sadness rose within him. He brought his hand to his chest and clenched his fist, hoping to make the pain go away. If he became friends with James, he would have to put up with seeing him with Anya and that was impossible for him.

“Why are you reacting like that ?”

“Anya, stop.”

“Help me to understand.”

“Because I love you !”

Silence took over between them. Damian's words rang in their ears. He felt like his heart was going to explode. He never thought he would admit that he loved her that way. Anya looked at him, surprised. She opened and closed her mouth several times, before saying :

“Wait you love me ?”

Damian sighed and ruffled his hair. There was no point in hiding it anymore.

“I always have.”

Strangely, he felt good. Of course, he was afraid of her reaction, but he also felt free for having confessed his feelings to her. Even though he wished things were different and that he had not told her he loved her because of his jealousy towards James. He looked at Anya who was lost in thought. He heard her mutter :

“I understand now what was in your thoughts.”

“What ?”

Anya came back to reality and opened her eyes wide, as if she had been caught red-handed. This was not the first time she had done this, Damian thought.

“Nothing,” she replied.

“You don't have to answer me.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me ?”

“The fear of being rejected, of losing you and that things will be different between us.”

“Is that why you are jealous of James ?”

She still talk about him. As if she knew what he was thinking, she took his hand to reassure him.

“You don’t have to be jealous of him. He's my friend, like Becky. And even though you're also my friend, how I feel about you is different than how I feel about Becky or James.”

She blushed and her hand shook slightly. It was the first time Damian had seen her like this. He wondered if she felt the same way as him. He felt hope rising within him. He squeezed her hand, hoping that he would convey to her what he felt. Without him expecting it, Anya stood on tiptoe and put her lips on his. It had only lasted a second, but for Damian, it had been the most beautiful second. Anya pulled away slightly.

“I love you too.”

She kissed him again and Damian kissed her back. He shyly put his arms around her and held her close. Nothing mattered except Anya. He loved her and she had just confessed to him that she loved him too and that was all that mattered.

The end

[restwellsoon]

Hello 👋 for your token of sleep project I would like a daydream prompt with Jason Todd demon AU where he is an incubus and the f reader has accidentally summoned him yet she is super stressed out and needs some relief. Ps. I hope your having a great day or night.

Oh boy am I feeling this as I've just started my grad program while still working full-time. Feelin' like actual death right now.

Thanks for participating and I hope that you have a great day/night as well!

Minors and ageless blogs DNI!

Pairing: Jason Todd x F!Reader

Warnings: Demon AU, smut, slight degradation

/ "There you go," Jason encouraged, watching carefully at the fine movements of your body as he readied it to take him. "Keep breathing. It's okay. Let out a curse even. Fuck? That's what I'm trying to do, sweetheart, just be patient. You can't handle this all at once."

You said a quick prayer to God-any god that would listen- to help you pass your midterms, or at the very least give you the strength to get through the last twelve pages of your paper.

The eerie rustle of papers made your skin prickle as you looked for any source of wind. The window was closed. Your fan was off. The bedroom door had been closed for hours as your roommate gave up, deciding to indulge in hedonistic procrastination instead of keeping their nose buried in a book all weekend.

"God?" You asked, in half-jest and half-hope, your delirious mind looking for any excuse to take itself away from your computer screen.

"Already? We haven't even gotten to the good parts yet, sweetheart," a voice drawled from the darkness beneath your desk.

Reflexively, you scooted back, computer chair wheels swiveling wildly until the back bumped into the foot of your bed. You scrambled off the chair and into your bed, a stupid thought of hiding beneath the covers running through your mind.

The voice crawled from its den, and at first, it was nothing more than hunkering darkness. Each step it took towards you gave it shape, and you sat paralyzed, watching as you saw the face of your end.

Under the dim lighting of your lamp, you saw chiseled muscle and horns. The sharp glint of his fangs were lost as you focused on his face-strange and unknown yet more alluring than frightening. Your mind glossed over his nakedness to be enthralled by his splendor.

"Who are you? What are you?"

"Is it tacky to say, whatever you want me to be?" The being seemed amused by his own joke and only became serious when he realized you weren't laughing with him.

His thumb stuck back to the pile of books behind him before crossing his arms sternly. "You summoned me." He elaborated after your blank stare. "The sigil?" Your bored scrawlings? "The prayer?"

"So you'll help me pass my classes?" His uncertain hum wasn't convincing.

"Or at least help me study better?" He shrugged.

"Will you at least help me out with my job or pay my rent, so I can focus on school?"

"Look," he spoke, "I'm an incubus. Call me Jason. Best I can do is give you post-nut clarity. Take it or leave it."

With a sigh, you weighed your options. The demon seemed useless, but who knew what a clear head could do for your productivity. You gave in with an annoyed 'Fine.'

He grinned, smile stretching to show off two precious dimples. "Atta girl. Smart decision. See, you hardly even need me." In a blink, he was in bed with you, making quick work of your clothes. "But I'm grateful all the same."

His kisses trailed up your legs as they spread for him wider than you were willing to admit. To your relief, he said nothing, only grinned as he buried his nose in your folds. Jason's fingers worked in sync with his tongue, drawing out your sweet nectar as it collected on the base of his knuckles.

After a few minutes, he rose, broad shoulders flexing before he sat back to look at his work. His index and middle finger spread apart to look at your hole. "A tight fit, but we can make it work," he mumbled more to himself than you.

His cock was ribbed with thick fat veins and narrowed down to gently arrowed tip, the end drooling with opalescent pre-cum. He gave his cock a few pumps, its length growing an extra inch for good measure as heavy balls lightly swayed.

"I don't think it'll-" You tried to interject, but your thought was lost as the head entered and teased, rubbing against your clit as you body ached for the demon.

"There you go," Jason encouraged, watching carefully at the fine movements of your body as he readied it to take him. "Keep breathing. It's okay. Let out a curse even. Fuck? That's what I'm trying to do, sweetheart, just be patient. You can't handle this all at once."

Five frustrating minutes later, his length was buried inside you, and Jason wasted no more time to fuck you, resting his ankles on his shoulders as he worked.

The orgasm was noticeably longer than others you've had and seemed to drain the life out of you as you tried to catch your breath. Jason was unaffected-chipper even- as he laid beside you.

"So what's that post-nut clarity telling you?" Each human was different after all.

You checked the time before looking back at your books and computer. You had work in three hours and your paper was due in six.

"I'm already fucked," you admitted before straddling his great lap. "Might as well enjoy it."

A Token of Sleep | event / Jason Todd's Masterlist / Rest's Main M.list

[peridotglimmer]

For the there was only one bed prompts: 13 for False and Cleo?

schaumi you have blessed me with this prompt, i love it so much. this uh turned out a lot longer than expected. count on me to suddenly write 1K of fluff. have some fluff featuring a pining idiot cleo. content warning for alcohol consumption. rated t due to cleo's vocabulary.

"I can take the floor?" "No it's alright, besides it's big enough for the both of us."

Suite Night

"Ugh." Cleo sighed, following False into the hotel suite. "I love X, but next time he and Keralis fall ill he can get someone else to fill in for him." She dropped her suitcase near the door. There was probably a stand somewhere, the hotel had four stars after all, but she couldn't be bothered. False chuckled.

"It's not that bad. The representatives weren't too bad this year!" She stretched, and her powder blue dress shirt came free from the waistband of her skirt, exposing the slightest strip of her bare abdomen. Cleo raised an eyebrow.

"We're we talking to the same idiots?" They walked up to False and pressed the back of their hand to the other woman's forehead. "You haven't got a fever, so you're not delirious. I counted three separate comments on your breasts, one on my arse, four zombie racists, and I stopped tallying the amount of times I got misgendered after seven." False's shoulders and face dropped, and Cleo immediately felt like biting her own tongue off.

"I really am sorry about that, Cleo. The sponsors, they're old money. Stuck in their ways."

"Even super glue has a solvent," Cleo muttered. They sighed. "Thank you for correcting them when I got tired of it, I do appreciate it." Smiling, False replied: "You're welcome."

"Well then." Cleo awkwardly cleared her throat. "I'm about ready to tear this penguin suit off and sleep for twelve glorious, uninterrupted hours before this circus starts all over again."

"Hm, I could go for a shower before bed." False was already digging through her duffel bag and retrieving various items.

"You do that; I'll order us something to drink and to snack on and pick a bed." Cleo grinned, already on their way to the phone.

"I'll take an ice cold white wine," False decided. "I won't be long." Cleo nodded, and False disappeared into the bathroom. It was a decently large suite, with a seating area with a tv and a dining table with room for two. The entire hotel was booked, with all servers looking to find sponsors for the new season. Xisuma had gotten lucky when he booked that there was a suite available at all.

The receptionist had a pleasant voice and took Cleo's order of a chilled bottle of white and a variety of charcuterie, put it on Mr Void's invoice. If Cleo was stuck here playing lust object for old white men, she was at least getting some decadent snacks out of it. The kitchen informed her they would bring it up to them within fifteen minutes, which would be just long enough for Cleo to choose the bed they wanted. Grabbing their suitcase, they walked over to the ensuite.

"Oh crap."

There was only one, king-sized bed.

Fuck! Xisuma had booked the room for himself and Keralis, of course they wouldn't want separate beds! No-one had thought of that when she and False had rushed to the event in their place this morning. Now what?

Cleo wasn't sure how long she had been standing in the doorway, but suddenly she heard False's voice behind her: "Claimed the nicest bed for yourself yet?"

"Uh. About that." Cleo stepped aside, trying not to stare at False as she entered the room clad only in an oversized tee.

"Oh." False bit her lip. "Guess this was booked for our lovebirds, huh?" She walked up to the bed and picked a rose petal off of the sheets.

"Yeah, but it's fine. I can sleep on the floor!" Cleo blurted out. They ran a hand through their hair. "I'm sure I can ask for a cot or an extra mattress or something. It's fine!" Her voice had gone up an entire octave as she spoke.

"Don't be ridiculous, Cleo." False turned to face her. "It's more than big enough for the both of us. I don't mind sharing." Suddenly, her voice got quieter. "... unless you do? Mind?"

"No, not at all!" Cleo really needed to get their volume and pitch under control. "We can-- yeah, we can share!" False yawned.

"Great. Then I vote for wine in bed, because I'm going to have to wear heels for at least five hours tomorrow as well as dance in them, and I want to get my feet up for as long as I possibly can in advance." A knock sounded at the door. Room service! "I'll go get the door so you can change. Just yell when you're ready, yeah?" Cleo nodded wordlessly.

As Cleo opened their suitcase, they cursed quietly. Out of all things she could have grabbed to wear to bed, why did it have to be an old tee and baggy shorts? She had blindly taken some things from her wardrobe this morning, and this is what she had ended up with. At least there weren't any holes in them, they supposed. Cleo quickly took off her suit and changed into her nightclothes. She replaced the bandage on her bite with a fresh clean one, and pulled her hair into a ponytail.

"Ready!" they yelled into the general direction of False when they had shoved their suitcase under the bed and had gathered the rose petals into a small pile on one of the nightstands. The blonde quickly reappeared in the bedroom, carefully carrying a tray with Cleo's order on it.

"Great choices," False commented as she placed the tray on the foot of the bed. "This looks amazing. Got a preference for a side?" She motioned at the bed.

"I prefer to be furthest from the windows," Cleo admitted. "Sunlight's not deadly, but it's not comfortable either."

"You got it!" False elegantly climbed into the far side of the bed, taking care not to kick their wine or snacks. Once Cleo had gotten in on the other side, False admitted: "I do feel bad for Xisuma and Keralis. This was supposed to be their date night, I guess."

"We'll have to make sure we enjoy it on their behalf then," Cleo replied without thinking. When they realised what they had just said, they stammered: "I mean, uh..." False smiled and handed her a glass of wine.

"I think I get what you mean. Cheers." As their glasses touched, False pressed a kiss to Cleo's cheek. "Out of all the Hermits I could be sharing a bed with right now, I'm happy it's you."

"Yeah..." Cleo fell quiet and quickly took a sip of their wine. False grabbed the remote control from her nightstand.

"Wanna watch some bad late-night TV?" Cleo breathed a sigh of relief.

"Sounds good to me." False smiled, and Cleo had to remind herself to breathe. As the noise of some random talkshow filled the room, False shifted closer to her so she could grab a piece of cheese. Their thighs touched, sending electricity down Cleo's spine. They tried to stay calm as False nestled herself against their side, her head resting against their chest. If she noticed how fast Cleo's heart was beating, she didn't say a thing.

"Glad it's you," False repeated, already beginning to sound sleepy.

"Me too," Cleo replied this time. "Me too."