evalevaeva

[evalevaeva]

A New Wag ? | Yuki Tsunoda (2/2)

Summary : Fans are suspicious that Yuki has a girlfriend, they are investigating.

Pairings : Yuki Tsunoda x Kpop idol

Themes : SMAU, fluff, romance

Song Theme : Magnetic by ILLIT

Face claim : Tsuki from Billie

AN : I couldn't do just one part because I had too much pictures. Here the first part ! Hope you will like it !

Part.1

f1fansandwags

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liked by user10, user26 and other people

f1fansandwags This Friday, Vicky held a concert in Osaka, during the concert fans could see Haru and Hyejin (another member) talking to each other after Haru pointed to someone in the stands, quickly the other members arrived and greeted this person. Fans weren't able to see who it was straight away, but this would confirm that Haru was in a relationship.

Would it still be Yuki Tsunoda or someone else ?

yukitsunoda0511 osaka, japan

playing : Beautiful Feeling by DAY6

♥️ 9,7K ⌨ 131 ➤

liked by pierregasly, harufromvicky, visacashapprb and other people

yukitsunoda0511 Great to be home again

comments

user24 Okay, it's not just rumors anymore guys !

user29 Yuki aes ? Random pics but still looking good

user32 We need some travel vlog through japan with Yuki one day ! The places looks so good

user26 Are we doing like it's nothing ? Yuki is launching ! I repeat Yuki is launching !

harufromvicky

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liked by hyejeans, vicky_off, yukitsunoda0511 and other people

harufromvicky Goodbye Japan, see you soon !

comments

user29 Wait ! I saw the same photo with Yuki ! (first one)

user30 This is fun, but we need this relationship to be confirmed now, please

harufromvicky

playing : La Vie En Rose by IZ*ONE

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liked by hyejeans, pierregasly, yukitsunoda0511 and other people

harufromvicky Feelin' like Barbie

comments

user26 Yuki in the likes, now Pierre ? It's official guys, you can't hide it anymore.

user27 ate it as the queen she is

user31 Wait ! If we think about it, she's wearing pink... we will see Yuki in pink soon ?!

yukitsnoda0511

playing : La Vie En Rose by IZ*ONE

♥️ 87,35K ⌨ 115 ➤

liked by harufromvicky, pierregasly, vicky_off and other p

yukitsunoda0511 Ken vibes

comments

user5 Okay now I get it, soft launching is cool but hard launching is better guys

| user10 Haha, I saw it coming now you need to listen to Vicky's songs, Yuki has taste. Almost all of the songs are written by Haru.

f1fansandwags

♥️ 40,3K ⌨ 107 ➤

f1fansandwags We have already news ! Yuki was at the Vicky's concert at Osaka, just before the Grand Prix in Suzuka, where Haru was saw again in the paddock. We have other hints given by both of them. They music on their posts are the same, their descriptions look a lot similar and even some photos are the same. They even did a Barbie and Ken post, they can't deny it anymore. @.yukitsunoda0511 @.harufromvicky we need some hard launch now !

yukitsunoda0511

playing : Likey by TWICE

♥️ 87,35K ⌨ 115 ➤

liked by harufromvicky, pierregasly, visacashapprb and other people

yukitsunoda0511 Happy anniversary, already 4 years are passed @.harufromvicky

comments

user10 4 WHOLE YEARS !?

user21 How is it possible to hide a relationship for 4 years ?

| user30 I hope we will at least have post when they will be married

Hyejeans See you soon you dwarf like by author

| yukitsunod0511 You talk a lot for someone who is smaller than me

harufromvicky

playing : Likey by TWICE

♥️ 91,6K ⌨ 121 ➤

liked by yukitsunoda0511, hyejeans, vicky_off and other people

harufromvicky Happy 4th year anniversary, love you @.yukitsunoda0511

comments

user10 You're crying ? 'Cause I am, so happy for both of you !

user13 This means they met during or before covid ? I want to know how !

| user22 me too !

f1fansandwags

♥️ 80,2K ⌨ 161 ➤

f1fansandwags Well, it's official now, Yuki has a girlfriend. A 4 years relationship ! Happy for them, hope we see more of soft and hard launching again on their account. Haru is now an official wag ! Welcome to the club. I'm sad that our little investigation ends now but it's for the best ! Also,we did some research and it turns out that they are and actually they were friends for a long time before both start their career.

Main Menu | How To Request | Ask Me Anything

More Yuki Fics

dividers by @introvertstoriesblog

[evalevaeva]

helloo so apparently you’re back? i hope so, i really like ur work! are u taking requests for yuki? if not just ignore this but if u’re can u pls write a fic where he’s kind of neglecting reader because he’s focused in his home race and all the changes happening so reader almost breaks up with him but they ended up working it out?!

{ im back and thank you so much <3 ! I had something so similar in my drafts, so I posted this rally quickly, spelling mistakes might be there. enjoy }

Fading Into You (yt22)

✦ pairing - yuki tsunoda x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, fighting, happy ending

At first, it was just little things.

monday

Y/N woke up to an empty bed. Hmm, strange. That never happened before.

She stretched her arm across the sheets, feeling the cold side where Yuki should’ve been. He must’ve left early. Again.

It wasn’t unusual for him to be up before her during race weeks, but he always made a point to wake her—pressing a sleepy kiss to her temple, whispering a quiet "See you later, baby.” It was routine. Comforting.

But this morning, there was nothing.

She checked her phone. No message. No "Good morning" text. Just radio silence.

Maybe he was just tired. Maybe he forgot.

She shook it off but a part of her realised that this wasn't Yuki.

tuesday

He came home late. Again.

Y/N had been waiting, their usual dinner-for-two going cold on the table. She told herself she wouldn’t be upset. That he was working hard. That she understood.

But when the clock hit 11:30 PM and he finally walked through the door, she still felt that pang of disappointment.

“Hey,” she greeted softly, standing up. “I made dinner—”

“Uh I already ate so like.....”

The words were quick, dismissive. He didn’t even glance at the untouched plates on the table as he dropped his bag by the door and collapsed onto the couch, rubbing his eyes.

Y/N swallowed. “You could’ve told me y'know? So I wouldn't waste my time?.”

He sighed, finally looking at her. “God it's not a big deal. Sorry. It was just… a long day.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

wednesday

Yuki had always been affectionate.

He kissed her absentmindedly when he passed her in the kitchen. Held her waist when they brushed shoulders in the hallway. Squeezed her hand when they watched TV.

But now?

The kisses had turned into quick pecks. The pecks had turned into nothing.

Y/N watched as he scrolled through his phone at the dining table, his untouched breakfast in front of him. She reached out, brushing her fingers against his for him to curl his fingers and intertwine them with hers.

He barely reacted.

“Yuki?”

“Hm?” His eyes didn’t leave the screen.

She hesitated, then sighed. “Nothing.”

She wondered if he even noticed how much had changed.

thursday

Y/N woke up to the sound of Yuki’s voice.

Still half-asleep, she smiled, expecting to hear him talking to her.

But when she blinked awake, she realized he was on the phone.

“…Yeah, I’ll be there at seven. Wait actually when will Max be there?” A pause. “No, let’s push that to later—actually, just text me, I’ll figure it out.”

He was standing by the window, his back turned to her. He hadn’t even noticed she was awake.

Y/N sat up slowly, the blanket pooling around her. “Yuki?”

“Y/N one sec I'm busy,” he mumbled, still on the phone.

Her stomach twisted.

Before, he would’ve ended the call just to kiss her good morning. Before, he would’ve at least acknowledged her.

Now, she wasn’t even sure if he realized she was there.

She laid back down, staring at the ceiling.

This felt different.

friday

She barely saw him.

He had left before she woke up, and by the time he came home, she was already in bed. She heard him moving around in the dark, pulling off his hoodie, plugging in his phone.

She wanted to say something.

Wanted to roll over, grab his wrist, and ask if he even missed her.

But she didn’t.

Because she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

saturday

Y/N wasn’t even mad.

She was tired.

Tired of waiting. Tired of being an afterthought.

She had followed Yuki around the paddock all morning, feeling more like a lost assistant than his girlfriend. He barely spoke to her, barely looked at her, completely immersed in briefings and media obligations. She stayed close anyway, hoping—just once—that he’d turn around and reach for her hand, or check if she was keeping up.

He didn’t.

And then, just when she thought it couldn’t get worse, he left without her.

One minute, she was answering a question from a Red Bull staff member. The next, she turned around and his car was gone.

Gone.

What the actual fuck?

Like she wasn’t even there.

Like she didn’t exist.

She didn’t realize how frozen she was until she heard Max’s voice.

“Where’s Yuki?”

She turned to see Max and Kelly standing a few feet away, both watching her with concerned expressions.

“He left.” Her voice barely came out.

Kelly’s brows furrowed. “Without you?”

Y/N exhaled sharply, pushing her fingers through her hair. “Yeah.”

Max muttered something in Dutch under his breath before shaking his head. “Come on Y/N. We’re not leaving you here like some people.”

She didn’t argue. She let them lead her to Max’s car, let Kelly rub soft circles on her back, let the silence of the drive back sink into her bones. She saw Max and Kelly just co-exist so beautifully in the car, Max's hand on Kelly's pregnant belly, Kelly humming a soft tune and Max joining in. She missed it all with Yuki.

She had put up with the unread messages. The rushed conversations. The loss of affection. She had told herself to wait. That things would get better after the race.

But this?

Being forgotten?

That was the final straw.

Y/N wasn’t even shaking when she walked into their apartment. She thought she would be. Thought she would be angry, would be crying. But she wasn’t.

She was numb.

She locked the door behind her, kicked off her shoes, and walked straight into the bedroom without bothering to check if Yuki was home.

Except—

He was.

Sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn’t spent the last hour being driven home by Max and Kelly because he forgot her.

Like she hadn’t felt the most humiliated she had ever been in their entire relationship.

Yuki barely looked up when she walked in. “Hey, you’re late,” he mumbled.

Y/N froze in the doorway, gripping the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“I’m late?” Her voice came out eerily calm, but she felt the storm brewing inside.

Yuki finally looked at her properly, brows furrowing. “Yeah. I thought you left before me?”

She laughed. A sharp, humorless sound. “You fucking thought?”

Yuki blinked. “What?”

She dropped her bag onto the floor. “You- you just left me there!”

His expression flickered. “Shit,” he muttered, rubbing his face. “I—fuck, I didn’t mean to—”

“You forgot me, Yuki.” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t let herself break. “I was standing there like an idiot, waiting for you, while you just—fucking left.”

“I—I wasn’t thinking, I was just caught up in—”

“You weren’t thinking because you don’t think about me anymore! That's just the truth. You don't care and I'm just a task now aren't I? ”

The words hit the air like a gunshot.

Yuki’s mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t.

Because he knew she was right.

Y/N scoffed, shaking her head. “This whole week, Yuki. It wasn’t just today. I’ve been right here, watching you pull away from me like I don’t exist. Like I’m just… background noise in your life now.”

Yuki stood up suddenly, like he wanted to come closer, but she took a step back.

“Baby, no—”

“Don’t even try and "baby" me right now.” Her voice was sharp, a warning.

He swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

“But you did Yuki. I don't really give a shit on if you meant it or not. This is not how you treat someone you love.” Her chest was rising and falling rapidly now, the numbness breaking apart, making way for all the emotions she had buried.

“Y/N—”

“You don’t kiss me anymore.” Her voice wavered. “You don’t talk to me. You don’t see me, Yuki.”

Yuki ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “That’s not true.”

“Really?” Her eyes burned. “Then tell me the last time you asked me how my day was.”

Silence.

Yuki’s jaw clenched.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, pressing her fingers against her forehead. “I don’t know why I even waited this long. I kept telling myself that you’d remember me eventually. That after the race, you’d come back. But maybe… maybe you’re already gone.”

Yuki’s head snapped up. “No. No, don’t—”

“I can’t keep waiting for you, Yuki,” she whispered.

Panic flickered across his face. “Baby, please, don’t say that. I—I know I fucked up, but I can fix this—”

She turned away. “I’m sleeping in the guest room.”

Yuki stepped forward quickly, grabbing her wrist. “Y/N, please.”

She pulled away like his touch burned her. His heart shattered that very moment. The woman he loved didn't want his touch anymore.

For the first time, Yuki’s eyes glistened. “I’ll do better, I swear. Just—don’t walk away from me.”

Y/N met his gaze, and the heartbreak on her face killed him.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me all week,” she said quietly. “You never did.”

She turned and walked away.

Yuki felt his chest cave in.

sunday

Yuki barely slept.

He spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, every single word Y/N had said playing on loop in his head.

He had done this.

He had pushed her so far away that now she was actually leaving.

And he couldn’t fucking breathe.

By the time he got to the paddock, his mind was only on her. Not the race. Not the pressure of performing in front of his home crowd.

He needed to find her.

But when he finally did, his stomach dropped.

She was standing near the Red Bull hospitality, talking to Kelly. Her arms were crossed, her shoulders tense. She looked—different. Done.

And Yuki broke.

He walked straight up to her, not caring who was watching, and grabbed her hands.

“Y/N.” His voice cracked.

She stiffened. “Yuki.”

He could see it in her eyes. She was already gone.

No, no, no.

“I’m sorry.” His voice came out hoarse. “I—fuck—I know I don’t deserve you after this week, I know I’ve been the worst fucking boyfriend, I know—” His breath was shaking. “But please. Don’t leave me.”

She swallowed, her fingers twitching in his grip. “Yuki, I—”

Before she could finish, he dropped to his knees.

Right there, in the middle of the paddock, in front of everyone.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Yuki—”

“I love you.” His voice was desperate, raw. “I love you so much, and I forgot to show you that. I got so caught up in my own shit that I—I left you behind.” His hands were gripping hers tightly, like he was afraid she’d disappear. “But I seeyou now. And I can’t—I can’t lose you.”

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes.

People were watching. Journalists. Other drivers. Team members.

But Yuki didn’t care.

Let them see. Let them see how much he fucking loved her.

“I’ll prove it to you,” he whispered. “Every fucking day Y/N. Just—just give me another chance and I promise I will never let you feel like that again..”

A tear slipped down Y/N’s cheek.

Yuki reached up slowly, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch her. His fingers brushed her wrist. “Please, baby.”

Y/N exhaled shakily. “You hurt me, Yuki.”

His throat tightened. “I know.”

She hesitated, staring at him—at his wide, pleading eyes, at the way he was gripping onto her like she was the only thing keeping him upright.

She had spent the whole night convincing herself she was done. That she had nothing left to give.

But Yuki was right there.

Begging.

And despite everything, she still loved him. He was IT for her.

She sighed, dropping to her knees in front of him. “You have one chance, Tsunoda.”

Yuki’s breath hitched. “You mean—”

She nodded. “Don’t waste it.”

His arms wrapped around her instantly, burying his face in her shoulder as he let out a shaky breath. “I won’t,” he whispered. “I won’t.”

Y/N let herself sink into him, holding him just as tightly.

For the first time in weeks, Yuki finally felt whole again.

[evalevaeva]

I can’t believe I genuinely am seeing season 2 of whc1 rn. Fics coming…

[evalevaeva]

Oh Mama! | Ahn Sooho Weak Hero class 1

-in which Ahn Sooho sees the girl of his dreams (whc1 is on Netflix now!! Go watch!!)

Ahn Sooho wasn’t one for wasting time, except for maybe the occasional drinks; he had more on his mind than most middle schoolers had. He had multiple part time jobs just to support himself and his grandmother, but there was always a gnawing feeling in his heart. It was almost as if he was yearning for something. Not money, but a person.

“Sooho… are you sure you’re fine?” Beomseok asked as he sat next to him.

Sooho had been deep in thought for the past ten minutes, elbow resting on the table as his hand supported his cheek. The boy seemed as if he was coming up with a master plan to take over the school.

“Why is it we never get to see the girls from the school opposite of us? I mean, we’re less than fifteen footsteps away, but we never see them. It’s as if there’s some magical barrier stopping us!” Sooho said as he took a spoonful of rice into his mouth. “They have to be angels or something if their school leaders are so protective of them!”.

Sieun grimaced as he took a tissue and wiped off the rice Sooho had spat onto his uniform. “Maybe swallow your food before you talk? Then you’ll get to see them?”.

Sooho whined to himself as he ate his lunch.

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

You had never been one to spend much time in the dating scene. Maybe the occasional confession from the boys from Byuksan Middle School but none of them had ever caught your eye. You were one of the girls who could be described by the word ‘sweetheart’. Whether it was true or not, the boys at Byuksan Middle School couldn’t care less.

Maybe it was true, your grades weren’t stellar or your piano skills weren’t amazing, but you were amazing enough to have people admire you.

It was around six in the afternoon as you made your way out of school, walking on the designated pavements as you took a step out the school gate. The cold winter air was starting to arrive and you pulled your brown coat closer to your body, hoping it would be enough to keep you warm until you arrived home. Your AirPods were in your ears, a classical song playing. The piano and violin made your steps fast as you walked down the hill from the school to the bus stop. That was, until your AirPods decided to die.

“Shit…” you muttered as you stopped, taking out the case from your pocket and putting your AirPods in them. Instead, you took out wired headphones from your bag pack as you untangled them.

“Oh Mama!”

You looked up in confusion at the exclamation as you saw a boy, definitely around your age, clasping his hand over his mouth with his eyes wide as he looked straight at you from across the street. He was tall, very tall. Had a weird haircut but his face made up for it.

Your eyes went from his hair, eyes, lips then his uniform as the familiar logo caught your eye.

“Byuksan Middle School,” you muttered as you smiled politely at the boy but quickly made your way to the bus stop, knowing the type of guys that roamed in that school.

There was no in between; nerds, delinquents, bully victims and then you have the type where their only weakness is their personal problems.

From the sight of his muscles, he was definitely a delinquent type.

“Not my cup of tea” you muttered to yourself as you put your earbuds in.

────୨ৎ────

Sooho was starstruck. The poor lovesick fool sat in the cafeteria with a big grin. Sieun and Beomseok shared a look as Sieun snapped his fingers in front of the boy’s face.

“Are you sick or possessed?” Sieun said as he sat back in his seat, unapproving.

“If you’re not feeling well, we could just eat in the classroom? Or go to the nurse’s office?”Beomseok suggested as Sooho suddenly slammed his fists on the cafeteria table in determination, causing Beomseok and everyone in the area to flinch from the sudden sound.

“I’m going to find her,” Sooho suddenly stated in resoluteness.

Sieun raised an eyebrow as he said, “Who?”.

Sooho simply gave him a smirk.

────୨ৎ────

Sieun could’ve slapped his friend right then and there. Sooho had dragged the two to the same spot he had seen you the previous day, wanting them to experience the same eye-opening experience.

“I have Math Academy, you idiot. I need to go,” Sieun said as Sooho had a tight grip on his coat still.

“No, you’re not getting it! If you had seen her, you’d be lovestruck too! The way she walked down the hill with the wind in her hair!” Sooho said as he practically had heart eyes, his expression dreamy.

Beomseok had a smile as he said, “Okay, let’s see if she’s here today. Do you remember how she looks like?”.

“Are you kidding? I’m pretty sure I saw her in my dreams last night. Or was it this morning? I can’t remember. Her face is imprinted…” Sooho said as he grasped his hand over where his heart was, his expression desperate, “In my heart”.

Sieun had his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at his friend in disgust, “Good Lord”.

“Girls from the school down the street are known for being pretty. Maybe you’re right, she’ll really have us that smitten too” Beomseok spoke, trying to understand Sooho’s behaviour.

“Right on the jackpot my friend!” Sooho said as he gave Beomseok a slap on the back.

It had been well over an hour and Sieun wasn’t happy. The boy had a frown as he kept checking the clock on his phone. Most of the girls from the school down the street had gone home, and it didn’t seem like you were coming anytime soon.

“Sooho, maybe she’s already gone home?” Beomseok said as Sooho desperately paced the pavement with Sieun’s jacket in the grip of his left hand, forcing the boy to pace with him.

“It can’t be. She was going home at the same time yesterday!” Sooho said as he looked like a sad puppy.

“Maybe she had extra classes or club activities, idiot. She might’ve had free time after school and went home already,” Sieun said as he took the opportunity to poke Sooho in the side, causing the taller boy to release his grip on his jacket.

Sieun sighed as he said, “Maybe your little fantasy girl will appear tomorrow. Just get to your job already, you’ll be late”. The boy looked at his phone as he grumbled, “I’m already late to my academy, i’ll get going now”.

Beomseok patted Sooho on the shoulder as he reassured his friend, “Maybe Sieun’s right. She’ll be here tomorrow, I can feel it. I’ll accompany you to work, how about that?”.

────୨ৎ────

“Boss! I’m here!” Sooho sang as he walked into the restaurant and went to the back as he put on his apron.

“Sooho! Help me with these orders!” The boss, a woman in her late fifties said as she prepared the food, placing the raw meat on a tray and handing it to Sooho. “There’s also orders for more soda at table five!”.

“Right away ma’am!” Sooho saluted as he got the meat to tables six, two and ten, before going to the fridge to get the four sodas, holding it to his chest as he walked over and placed it on the table.

“Four sodas,” Sooho said as the customer turned and made eye contact with him.

“Oh Mama”.

His breath was taken away right then and there. The idiot couldn’t believe his eyes. Sieun and Beomseok were right. You had gone home. But now you were here, eating barbecue with your friends, at his workplace. Smiling and giggling with them as you engaged in conversation.

“Oh it’s you” you couldn’t help but say as you recognised him.

“Yes, it’s me” Sooho wiped his hands on his apron as he cleared his throat and stood up straight, puffing up his chest.

The other girls at the table couldn’t help but notice the exchange as you asked, “I saw you and your two friends standing outside the school for an hour. What was that about?”.

Sooho gulped. How was he supposed to explain that he had waited for an entire hour with two of his friends just to catch a glimpse of you? You’d think he was a total creep.

“I wasn’t. I.. had to pick up… my cousin!” Sooho said as he tried to play off the situation. “She’s a student there so I had to pick her up. Can’t let her go home on her own. Dangerous world out there”.

The other girls at the table giggled as you raised an eyebrow and scoffed in disbelief, a smile ghosting your lips, “your friend dragged you away from the school, I’m pretty sure. Picking up your cousin? That’s a new one. Usually they outright admit they were waiting for us and beg us for a date”.

Sooho was as finished as the meat on the grill. You had definitely caught on and knew what he was up to. Sooho cleared his throat as he said, “I have a good explanation, I’m sure. Honestly, I just wanted to talk to you. I mean, you’re so pretty and I wanted to ask you out!”.

Sooho realised what he had said as he looked at you in shock. The girls at the table also stopped as they realised what he said rambled. You looked at him, not saying a word, causing the poor boy to sweat till no tomorrow.

“I mean- Only if you’d want to?” Sooho tried to save the situation.

You looked at the boy from his head to his feet as you took in his appearance.

Tall, good looking, hard worker from the fact he was working a part time job so late at night, seems outgoing, hilarious. No cons so far.

“Are you a delinquent?” You asked him as he instantaneously denied it. “No! What would make you even think that?”.

You shrugged, “You just have the look for it”.

“Tell you what, put your number in,” you said as you handed him your phone. A chorus of ‘ooohs’ sounded from the table as Sooho hastily punched in his numbers, his palms sweaty and feeling as if he’d drop the phone at any second.

He left a missed call before handing you back the phone as he said with a sense of confidence, “I’ll text you”.

Sooho walked off to continue serving customers as you were a little taken aback by his sudden confidence. It was… attractive, and you had to admit it. Your friend elbowed you as she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh shut up” you said as you rolled your eyes and ate a piece of meat off the grill.

Later that night, you laid in bed in your pyjamas as you got a text.

“Are you up?”.

You rolled your eyes with a small smile as you rolled onto your front, propping yourself up with your elbows as you typed a response back.

“I am. What are you up to?”.

Sooho sat up on the couch in the staff room of the barbecue place as he thought about it. Would you be flattered by the thought of a guy that worked several jobs? Sooho sighed before typing back a response.

“Resting at work”.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you checked the clock on your phone.

“At two in the morning? What time do you get off work?”.

Sooho immediately typed back.

“Five”.

You sat up in your bed, blanket over your shoulders as you did simple arithmetics.

“So you only rest for an hour before school?”.

That was worrying. A middle schooler barely having enough sleep? How’s his grades then if he doesn’t have time to study?

“Are you gonna have enough sleep for school?” You couldn’t help but ask. It wasn’t usual for someone to have to work multiple jobs at your age. Maybe he was saving up for university?

“I will. You should go to sleep. It’s really late. Can’t have you missing out on your beauty sleep to talk to your Prince Charming ;) “.

Sooho cringed at himself while you laughed to yourself under the comfort of your blankets. This boy was funny.

“I’ll go to sleep then, Prince Charming. Good night” you typed back before setting your phone on your nightstand and turning to face the window.

Sooho leaped from the sofa in the staff room as he cheered, wiggling his butt in excitement as he texted the group chat he had with Sieun and Beomseok.

“She said goodnight!!! Thats the biggest achievement ever!!” Sooho texted as he laid on the sofa again, holding his phone to himself as he smiled.

────୨ৎ────

That was about a month ago. You sat on the plastic chair outside the convenience store as you ate your ice cream cone, Sooho on the opposite side of the table. Sooho kept fidgeting as he stole glances at you. He remembers the first time he ever saw you at the school gate and he couldn’t help but be enamoured by you every single time he stared at you.

“Do I have ice cream on my face?” You asked as you looked at Sooho. Sooho seemed to snap out of it as he sat up in his seat, “No, sorry, just falling inlove”.

Sooho often loved to throw flirty remarks like that throughout the month you had gotten to know him. Constant text messages, phone calls, visits to his workplace and he’d come to every single one of your performances at school. Sooho had been preparing himself to confess in a true-blue Sooho manner, but he couldn’t help but feel like this was the perfect moment.

“You don’t have academy tomorrow, right?” Sooho asked casually as he ate his ice cream cone.

You raised a brow, “No, I don’t. Why?”.

Sooho took a deep breath as he said, “I thought we could get a meal after school. You know, you and me, dressed up… maybe even go to that photo booth you’ve wanted to go so bad”.

“So like a normal dinner we always go to? Or is this… a date?” You asked as you looked at him with those eyes he had fallen inlove with.

“A date” Sooho said confidently as you had a smile on your face.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for you to confess” you chuckled to yourself.

Sooho’s jaw dropped. “You’ve liked me this whole time and wanted me to confess?!”.

“Obviously! Shouldn’t the guy confess? Be a gentleman” You teased as you smiled at him.

Sooho couldn’t help but soften at your smile as he looked away, “Fine, maybe you’re right”. A smile was on his lips as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes.

—————-

Sorry guys I’m so hungry rn I’m about to go into work in 10 minutes. Hope this was good ;; it’s been a while since I’ve written anything since my GCEs LOL

[evalevaeva]

Woke up today to watch House MD on Netflix. Instead, I got recommended Weak Hero Class 1. I’m back to write the fics guys. I’m back. I’m SO back.

[evalevaeva]

House

House M.D. but it's when Wilson says House's name

[evalevaeva]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — It was never Reader's plan to be a single mother to a newborn child, but a longtime friend steps in and before long they both have the family they've always wanted, the only catch: they're still just friends

WORD COUNT — 13.6K

WARNINGS — mentions of pregnancy and birth, breastfeeding (like non descriptive? does this need to be a warning?)

NOTE — Okay this fic has been in the works for a while and I have been swamped with school so I'm so happy I'm finally able to post something because it's literally been a full-ass month since I last came out with anything ._. hoping once finals are over I can get back into my writing groove and give some of my ideas the attention they deserve!

Middle photo credit goes to @shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey

“Are you sure this is okay?” you looked back while holding a baby carrier in both hands. 

“Like I told you back at the hospital, and in the car, and then again in the car, I promise this is okay,” James assured you, following right behind, bags under each arm. “You just went through a 40 hour labour, did you really think it would be a smart move to come home alone?”

He was right about that, physically you were exhausted, you were sure how much longer you could keep your eyes open. 

“Go take a shower, I’ll look after her until you get out,” he suggested. “If you had a support person here you would have taken shifts.”

“I know, but you have a life James,” you sighed. “One that didn’t involve your friend getting pregnant and then taking care of her.”

“Would it make it any better if I told you I really don’t mind? I like spending time with you, it’s why we’ve been friends for so long,” he put the bags down by the table and then placed a hand on your shoulder. 

“James, I love you, but I’m going to be brutally honest because my filter has vanished. This is what happens to all your wives, all your girlfriends. I really don’t need that happening to us too,” you said. 

“It won’t,” he pressed. “Come on, just take the shower. I know you want to.”

You sighed, “Alright, but I’m not gonna call for you to come in the middle of the night and every which time of day. If you want to come and see us, do it of your own accord and if you don’t want to then don’t,” you emphasized. “Do what you want, not what you think I want.”

“If I say I will, will you go take a shower?” James asked and you rolled your eyes at him. 

“Don’t drop my baby while I’m in there, okay?” you pointed at him. “You still owe me for that vase you broke.” 

“You mean the tacky one your crappy ex-boyfriend’s mom gave you? I think I did you a favour there.” 

“You’re insufferable sometimes, you know?” you said carefully putting the carrier down in the living room and looking down at your resting daughter for a moment before heading towards your room. 

“I love you too,” he said simply, replacing you by her side and keeping a close eye on her while she slept. 

You had to admit, it was a relief to be able to step into the shower, knowing there was someone you trusted outside looking after the small human you were now fully responsible for. At least before dealing with the stress and everything that would come afterwards you’d be able to be clean. 

When you came out of your bedroom after your shower, dressed in the most comfortable clothes you could find lying around, you saw James in the kitchen, the carrier now propped up on the table while he unpacked something from some grocery bags. 

“I was craving Indian, do you want some?” he asked. 

“Of course I do, the food at your hospital sucks, hand it over,” you put your hand out and he gave you a bowl so you could serve yourself some rice and curry. “She’s still asleep?” 

“Woke up once, but I got her to fall back asleep pretty easily. She might get hungry soon though too.” 

“So I should eat while I still have the chance,” you sat down at the island and began munching on the food, turning around the carrier so you could see your daughter. 

It was interesting, she’d been around only for a short few days but you could barely ever take your eyes off her. 

“Did you pick a name for her yet?” James asked, leaning over the table and eating his portion of dinner. 

“I think so,” you nodded. “I was between two when she was born, but now that I look at her she fits one better than the other.” 

“So what’s the winner?” 

“Liana,” you smiled and brushed your fingers along her small curled toes. “It suits her doesn’t it?” 

“I think it does,” he nodded. “You made a pretty cute baby.” 

“I made a very cute baby, thank you very much,” you scoffed with a chuckle. “You think you could do better?” 

“Well I don’t have a uterus so I don’t think we’ll ever be able to find out,” he shook his head. “Shame, I probably would have demolished you.” 

“As if,” you laughed, continuing to eat more food just as Liana began to stir awake. “And there’s my cue.” 

You stood up and carefully took her out of the carrier, cautious of supporting her neck before moving over to the couch where you could comfortably feed her. 

“Once you’re done I’ll burp her,” James said. “So you can keep eating.” 

“Sure,” you nodded. “Got practice from your med school days?” 

“Yeah, actually,” he nodded. “I thought originally I might specialize in working in the NICU so I spent a lot of time in the maternity ward.” 

“What made you change your mind?” you asked. 

“I would have burnt out,” he admitted. “Seeing babies and spending time with them is one thing, but seeing them sick and sometimes not get better? It’s a lot harder than you’d imagine.” 

You hummed thoughtfully, “You would have been good in that department if you decided to go that route. I think at least.” 

“Really, why do you think so?” 

“James, you’ve always been great with kids and parents. Don’t you remember how we met?” 

He chuckled to himself, “Summer camp days. Yeah, you really did have to know your way around both.” 

“You somehow managed, as a nineteen-year-old, to calm a child who was freaking out about staying away from home and dealing with an unhappy parent of a different child. I think your people skills just got better as you got older.” 

“I don’t think there’s much in life that trains you to deal with crises as much as being a camp counsellor.” 

“You can test your skills with Liana and see if you’ve still got the magic when it comes to babies,” you teased, followed by a yawn. 

“Trust me, I definitely do,” he assured you. “Babies love me.”

“And do you love babies?”

“I do, and I think I’m gonna end up loving yours a little more than most,” he admitted. 

“Good, she’s gonna need it,” you sighed. “I’m gonna need it.”

There was a pause for a moment before James spoke up again,

“Have you talked to him since the break up?” he asked and you shook your head, feeling the tears develop in your eyes. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it, not right now,” you whispered, looking down at Liana again. 

James did not peg your boyfriend as the abandoning type, but after he had coaxed the news out of you during one of your visits, he could see how much it crushed you to think of what lied ahead. Not because you didn’t want a child, but because Liana was all you wanted and you thought you were on the same page as your partner, but when it came down to things he couldn’t hold up the mask he’d been wearing any longer. 

“You should talk about it sometime though, right?” James said softly. “Doesn’t have to be with me, but you’ve been so laser focused on getting through the past nine months you haven’t really processed what happened.”

Liana had since finished feeding and you carried her over to the kitchen island, passing James a burp cloth that he could drape across his shoulder before taking her from your hands, after you pressed a small kiss to her forehead. 

“Not sure if I want to process it,” you admitted. “I’d rather focus on her.”

“And I’d rather you take care of yourself so you don’t crash and burn,” he said. 

You knew he was right, but it was nicer to pretend you were alone from start to finish than even imagining the possibility that someone was supposed to be with you through everything. The doctors appointments, the morning sickness, the preparation. 

Instead you ended up feeling like a burden to your friends who had gone out of their way to help you and be there for you. 

“Okay,” you nodded simply. “I’ll do it for you and her then.”

“It’ll end up being for you in the end,” he assured. “But just…trust me on this okay?”

“I do,” you smiled. “Just like I trust you with her.”

You finished eating your dinner while James took care of Liana and even managed to get her to go back to sleep. It seemed that even though she’d only been in the world a short while, she felt just as safe in his arms as she did in yours.

“You can put her down if you want. I have a cot set up in my room,” you pointed. 

“I’m alright like this,” he shook his head. “I’ll hold her until you’re done then I’ll leave you guys so you can get some sleep.”

Considering how hungry you were, it didn't take that much longer for you to finish eating and while you cleared up the dishes, James went and put Liana down in her bed and then gathered his things so he could give you some time alone. 

“I’ll see you around, James. Thanks for coming to help today,” you gave him a big hug and he held you tight in that way he would when he wanted to say something, but knew it should probably wait. 

“Anytime,” he gave you an additional squeeze. “You’re gonna be a great mom. You are a great mom already. I’m really happy for you.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to say any words in response so you just nodded your head and held onto him tighter. After a moment he pulled away and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“Love you, now go get some sleep.” 

“You’ve got it Dr. Wilson,” you saluted him. 

You walked him out of the door and after closing it shut behind him you took a deep breath. It was going to be hard, but you could do it. 

—

A few months later…

“Don’t you have a life?” you yawned, bouncing Liana in your arms to try and get her to fall asleep. 

“I mean I went bowling with House last night and I consistently stay late at work, and that’s about it, so no,” James shook his head. 

“So you figured that coming and bothering me is a good use of your spare time.” 

“I wouldn’t call it bothering,” James gave you a look. “I made you dinner.” 

“Yeah you did, and unfortunately it was really good too,” you sighed. “So you just want to hang out with me and Liana?”

“Yeah, is that so hard to believe?”

“A little considering I always have baby vomit on me now,” you chuckled. 

“It brings out your eyes,” he teased. “Here, why don’t I take her.”

“Last time I agreed to that you riled her up, which I didn’t think was possible for a three month old,” you eyed him skeptically. 

“I promise I’ll put her to sleep,” he crossed his heart. 

“Wrong religion, James,” you shook your head and he laughed. 

“Do you want me to swear on the Torah?”

“It would help,” you nodded. 

“Alright, I swear on the Torah that I won’t rile her up.”

You reluctantly passed Liana over to James and scoffed when she almost immediately stopped fussing. 

“See,” he smiled and kissed her small nose while he rocked her gently, making her eyes slowly close as she fell asleep. 

“You two are in kahoots. She’s fine whenever you’re not around, but when you are it’s like she knows she can get passed off to you if she’s fussy enough,” you laughed a little. “It’s cute though, I like how much she likes you.”

“Me too, why do you think I keep coming here?” 

“So you came to visit, what do you want to do?” you asked. “My plans were to clean the kitchen and do laundry, so not much more exciting than sitting around at home.”

“Why don’t you let me put her down then we can tackle the kitchen together. I mean I did make half of the mess there.”

“I won’t argue with you there,” you sighed and put your hands on your hips. “Okay, I’m gonna throw a load in before you put her down.” 

It took a little bit for James to be confident Liana was fully asleep before putting her down in her cot and then meeting you again in the kitchen where you were packing up leftovers from dinner. 

“Have you had many visitors?” James asked. 

“Well, I do have this one guy that keeps coming around, about this tall, practicing oncology, I think he’s a little bit obsessed with me,” you joked. 

“Aside from me,” he shook his head and went over to the dishes. 

“Yeah, a few. My parents were here for a bit while you were out of town and then some of my friends have come around to help with a few things here and there and to meet Liana.”

“Nice.”

“You sound like you want to say something,” you looked back at him. 

“It’s not too much having me over all the time, is it?”

“No, not at all,” you shook your head. “You know me, I’d tell you if it was.”

“Because I really do like spending time with you both. It’s a lot nicer than going to an empty house at the end of the day,” he admitted. “So if you don’t mind, maybe I can keep bothering you and making a mess in your kitchen.”

“I think that would be okay,” you smiled. 

You cleaned in silence for a bit before James began asking a few questions about Liana. 

“She had an appointment with her pediatrician recently, right? Everything went okay?”

“Yeah, fit as a fiddle,” you sighed. “Thank goodness.”

“Have you decided if you’re gonna use formula yet? Or will you wait it out?”

“I was actually going to ask you about this, whenever I ask anyone I think has an opinion I’d like to hear they say I need to make the decision myself and then everyone I don’t want to hear from seems to have something to say,” you chuckled. “What do you think? As a doctor?”

“I mean, if I were in your situation I might wait a bit longer, she’s still pretty young and there’s no real reason to switch over yet. I think a lot of people start maybe around 12 months and from what I’ve seen that works well,” he shrugged. 

“Thanks for giving me a straight answer,” you placed a hand on his arm. “I also don’t know if I should try and take leave from work or hire a nanny, but I think I probably have to figure that one out myself.”

“Do you have enough savings to take the time off?” he asked. 

“I get a few more months paid leave from the company I work for since I have seniority, but after that I have to figure out what to do. I think I have enough saved to last me some time, but I’m going to have to go back eventually.”

James hummed thoughtfully. 

“Do you wanna come up with solutions tonight or relax now that we’ve finished cleaning?” he asked, motioning his head to the kitchen that was definitely in better shape than before. 

“Let’s watch a movie or something, I don’t think I’ve turned the TV on since Liana was born. I’ll fold the laundry when it’s done while we watch,” you said. “I’ll figure something out later.”

“We should watch, oh jeez what’s that thing we started ages ago and never finished?”

“The really bad soap?” you asked and he nodded, “Oh yes, we’re definitely watching that.”

“Okay, you go get settled, I’m gonna make some tea, do you want some?”

“Sure, just make me whatever you’re having,” you nodded and grabbed the remote from under the pile of blankets on the couch, turning on the TV and trying to find the episodes you had recorded to watch later. 

By the time James had finished making the tea, you had found the show and were just about to start it. 

“Here,” James passed you the mug. “So what was the last thing that happened?”

“I think the main guy was sleeping with the head nurse, right and then there was the whole thing with her being engaged to the other surgeon and then her sister was in a coma?” 

“Wait, I thought the surgeon she was engaged to was sleeping with one of his patients?” 

“He was,” you nodded. “It was a whole thing.”

“Alright, just start it, I’m sure I’ll remember more as we watch.”

James was very sorely mistaken, if anything he’d gotten more confused and you were absolutely no help because nothing was making sense anymore. 

“What is up with the writing?” you asked. “Like did they just completely forget they had a whole storyline dedicated to this huge procedure and now they’re acting like nothing happened.”

“Don’t get me started, that guy was doing surgery without gloves, like that doesn’t even take much effort to get right. You’d think it was common sense,” James added. 

“Maybe we should turn it off,” you looked over at your friend, “it’s getting us all riled up.”

James pressed his lips together, “I know, but I kind of want to find out who’s the father of Paula’s baby.”

You leaned back into the couch, you had managed to fold all the laundry, and it was still a little too early to go to sleep, you supposed a few more episodes couldn’t hurt. 

“If I fall asleep, just lock up on your way out, okay?” you looked over at him and he nodded as you started the next episode. 

Just as you predicted, about halfway through the second episode you began to drift off, and as soon as James noticed, he stopped the episode already having decided you could finish it together another time. 

He shifted you slightly so you were lying down on the couch instead of in the uncomfortable position you were in before, placing a blanket over top of you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, wishing you a good night before going to check on Liana, and after seeing she was sleeping soundly and the baby monitor was on, he saw himself out, taking your spare key from where it was hidden on the porch and locking the door. 

—

“How’s my girl doing?” James grinned, scooping Liana out of your arms. “I haven’t seen you in so long,” he kissed her nose making her giggle. 

“James, you were here two days ago,” you laughed. 

“And it feels like an eternity.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “She’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged. “Just as long as we get to spend time together.”

“Yeah, well she hasn’t napped yet so it can wait until after that,” you reached to take her back but James insisted he could put her to sleep. “James, you just got off work are you sure you don’t want to eat something or take a break for a bit?”

“This is like a break for me,” he assured you. 

“Okay, I’m gonna make a salad, come out and eat when you’re done.”

James nodded and went off to the bedroom so he could sit on the armchair there and coax her to sleep. 

Usually he didn’t need more than twenty minutes to half an hour to put her down, so when you were hitting the forty-five minute mark you wondered if Liana was being fussy, so you went to check in on them, instead seeing James fast asleep on the armchair with Liana snuggled against his chest. 

You bit back a big smile and went to go grab your camera quickly, and quietly snapped a shot of the two of them. 

Not wanting to wake either of them, you made your way back to the kitchen, shutting the door of the room behind you to make sure the sound didn’t travel. 

Figuring it might be a while before James came back out, you decided to eat your dinner, that way you could take Liana from him when they woke up so he could get something to eat too. 

As you had predicted, James exited the room about an hour later, Liana now awake and hungry for her own dinner. 

“Want me to take her now?” you teased and he rolled his eyes while you took your baby from him, sitting on the couch to feed her while he grabbed himself something to eat. “You had a good nap?”

“Great actually, I think I needed it. Been pulling a lot of late nights at the office getting paperwork done,” he admitted. “I’m surprised you didn’t wake me.”

“You looked comfortable, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Well, I appreciate it cause I needed the sleep,” he sighed and came and sat next to you while he began to eat his dinner. 

“James, I…I tried to talk to him the other week,” you said, knowing he would be able to connect the dots back to your ex. “I’d been meaning to tell you, it just slipped my mind I guess.”

“You did…what did he say?”

“God, I’m gonna start crying again,” you let out a humourless chuckle and lifted a hand to wipe away the tears beginning to form in your eyes. “It doesn’t matter what he said. What matters is that it was probably good that we broke up. He wouldn’t have been a good father or husband for that matter when it came down to it.”

“I’m proud of you for reaching out anyways. It takes a lot of guts to do that after someone leaves you.”

You nodded your head, “I’m just…I know I said you should keep coming here because you want to, but I really do like having you around. It just makes it seem simpler. Easier,” you looked over at him. “You’re a good friend Jamie, I love you.”

“Love you too,” he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead, watching as your attention turned back to your daughter as she finished feeding. 

You held her just like that in your arms for a little while longer, watching as she reached out for your fingers and then tried to go even further to grab James. Clearly her attention was addictive because he was ready to put his food down to help burp her, but you made a teasing remark about him hogging her and that he needed to eat his food so you’d take care of it and he could have her when he was done. 

Eventually, you traded Liana for James’ dishes and went to load the dishwasher while he kept her occupied, letting her gnaw on his tie while making all sorts of nonsensical baby noises that James took as conversation starters. 

It was funny to watch the two have what looked like a full blown conversation and you were sure James had been reading some parenting magazine or another that spoke of helping babies develop linguistic abilities. 

“Hey James,” you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the wall. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you want a key?”

“A key to what?” he looked at you confused. 

“The house,” you said. “I just thought since you’re here all the time you can come and go whenever you want and if you forget something and I’m out you can come get it yourself.”

“A key,” he thought about it. “This feels like a big milestone moment.”

“I mean I already have the key to your place, but that was because you refused to have anyone look after you after you got your wisdom teeth removed.”

“Wait, you have my key?” 

“Yeah, I just took yours and had it copied,” you shrugged. 

“I feel like I should be a bit more concerned about this, but I’m not.”

“It’s because you’re friends with House, you’re used to it,” you waved him off. 

“Liana, did you know your mom’s a thief?” he looked down at the baby in his arms and you rolled your eyes. 

“Do you want the key or not?” 

“I’ll take it, and I guess you can keep mine, but I’m never there anyways.”

“It’s okay, I’ll just use it if I need to steal your social insurance card to commit identity theft.”

“Liana banana, your mom’s being very silly tonight,” James picked her up and held her out in front of him before bringing her down to press a few kisses to her face, making her giggle. “It’s okay, we still love mommy even though she’s silly, right?”

“You better,” you flicked his shoulder as you walked by after grabbing an ice cream sandwich from the freezer. 

“Hey, I’ve got something in my bag I forgot to give you, do you mind bringing it over here?” James asked, motioning to the briefcase on the armchair closest to the front door. 

You nodded your head and stood up again to grab it and pass it to him. He rummaged through it with one hand while still holding Liana before passing you what looked like a receipt. 

“Uh thanks?” you looked a little confused. 

“Read what it’s for,” James chuckled. “They’ll get delivered next week.” 

“James,” you put the receipt down. “You didn’t.” 

“You’ve been talking about it for four months, I had to do something,” he shrugged. “And I didn’t get you anything for your baby shower.” 

“Because you planned it,” you laughed. “Seriously this is a lot. I don’t know if I can accept this.” 

“Just think of it this way. I’m here all the time, we like to go out with Liana together and it’s a great stroller with good safety ratings.” 

“Okay sure you’ll use that, but the cot too?” 

“The one you have in there’s been recalled, I was just doing you a favour,” he said. 

You chuckled a little, pressing your lips together. “Liana, my darling, we are very spoiled.” 

“I’ll come over when it gets delivered and help set it up,” James said. 

“I still don’t know what to say, James, this is…really generous of you.” 

“Believe me, right now nothing makes me happier, and I mean that,” he reached out a hand to you and you took it, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

As promised, the next week James was back at your home to help set up the stroller and the cot and you figured it would be the right time to pull out that camcorder your father had gotten you to help record some memories you were making with Liana. 

“Hey, James wanna tell the camera what you’re doing?” 

“Wondering why I didn’t get a degree in engineering apparently.” he mumbled while hunched over some instructions, a pencil behind his ear and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“What does your assistant think?” you moved the camera over to Liana, sitting in a rocking seat that was propped up next to James. 

“That this video isn’t going to be very good for my image in the future. This stuff is worse than IKEA,” he scratched the back of his head. 

“You’re doing great,” you assured him and came to give him an encouraging side hug. “Alright, let me stop this video and we can try and tackle it together.” 

You put the camera down on the bed and looked over the instructions with James, having a bit of an easier time piecing things together compared to him, so in the end you were put on deciphering the instructions while he assembled the cot. 

An embarrassing amount of time later, the cot was completely assembled (only after having to disassemble it all the first time because there was one piece left over and you had no idea what step you had missed using it), and you carefully placed Liana inside to see how it would hold up. 

“You know they say you can be proud of something you built with your own two hands, but I’m afraid this is going to fall apart,” James said. 

“We followed the instructions really carefully, it should be fine,” you said, trying to convince yourself. “And Liana looks comfortable in there, look at her she’s giggling.” 

“I think that’s because we look like we’ve been building a house or something,” he looked between you, seeing your dirty clothes and messed up hair. 

“Who knew putting together a cot would be so labour intensive,” you chuckled. “I think we can safely say we deserve some takeout. What do you want?” 

“Anything, I’m starving,” James sat down on the edge of the bed. “You think this will help her sleep a little better?” 

“Let’s hope so,” you rubbed your temples. “You coming?” you asked, taking Liana out of the cot and carrying her out towards the door. 

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute,” he nodded and you left him in the room, staring at the wooden baby’s bed in front of him. It was a simple thing you had both made together, but for James, it was starting to feel like so much more than just that. 

You built a cot, but what did building a cot mean? What did it mean that he bought it for you without a second question or a moment’s hesitation? What did it mean that he couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face every single time he stepped into this house? 

It probably meant a lot of things, but at the moment, to James, it felt like he had a family and he’d hold onto that for as long as he was able to. 

—

As much as you wished it could be, not every day was easy. Today was one of those days at the end of a long week and you wanted nothing more than to collapse and call it quits. 

Something was wrong with Liana, she was never this fussy, but all the doctors would just repeat the same thing over and over again. 

She has colic. 

You have a colic-y baby. 

Your baby has colic. She’s going to be fine.

She didn’t sound fine. Not when she would cry and cry and you didn’t know what was happening or how to make her feel better. It made your heart feel tight and constricted especially when all you could do was bounce and rock her in hopes that it might soothe whatever was going on inside her. 

You were so focused on the sounds of the crying baby you didn’t hear the door unlock as James entered the house. After putting down his bags, he followed the sound of the crying before finding you in the rocking chair in your room, gently hushing Liana to try and coax her back to sleep. 

“James,” you tried to stand up when you noticed he was there, but he rushed over to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder and encouraging you to sit back down. “I’m afraid we’re not really having a fun day today. You might want to just go home and rest,” you suggested. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. 

“James, I’m serious I-,” 

“Hey,” he said gently, quieting you as a hand came to hold your cheek. “Talk to me, mom. What’s happening?” 

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. 

“I don’t know,” you let the tears spill from your eyes, just as they were for Liana, but you basked in the comfort James’ simple action offered. “She just keeps crying and I don’t know what’s wrong. T-They kept saying she has colic, but this isn’t colic, James.” 

He nodded his head and wiped away your tears while trying to think of a solution to the problem in front of you. 

“I have an idea, just give me a second, I’ll be right back.” 

James went off to the kitchen and came back with a bit of a white powder on his finger. He helped you sit Liana up before getting her to eat a little bit of it. 

“What is that?” 

“Just baking soda. I saw this in a few babies. Doctors think it’s colic, but it’s reflux. Have you been eating anything different from usual?” he asked. 

“Me?” 

“Yeah, it might be something she’s allergic to getting in the breast milk,” he explained while rubbing Liana’s back. “Here let me take her so you can have a break. Go to the kitchen, get some water and write down a list of what you’ve been eating recently and we’ll go over it and see if we can find anything that lines up with her fussiness.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’ll survive,” he nodded. 

You passed over your baby to him and made your way out of the room, following James’ suggestion and noticing how with a little bit of time her crying had quieted down and instead was replaced by softer sniffles and a much nicer sound. It drew you away from the list you were leaning over and back to the door of the bedroom where you leaned in the frame and watched and listened while James, with his back turned to you, sang a soft lullaby to Liana. 

I love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.

Over and over like a prayer until Liana’s sniffles had faded and there was only silence. 

He carefully put her back in her bed, waiting a few moments to make sure she was really sleeping, before turning back and seeing you standing in the doorway. 

When he made his way up to you, you reached out and pulled him into as tight of a hug as you’d ever given him. You held onto the sleeves of your shirt while one arm came under his and across his back with the other around his neck, holding him as close to you as you possibly could. 

“You okay?” James asked and you nodded your head, silently while a few more tears streamed down your face. 

“I will be.” 

“I-,” James faltered for a moment, but he said it anyway. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

Three words he had said so many times, that had meant a particular thing when he said them to you, but now he couldn’t help but feel like they meant something a little different. 

You both stayed like that a moment longer before you pulled apart, wiping away your tears and going back to your list to see if James’ theory could be correct. 

“Maybe try cutting these ones out of your diet,” he suggested. “See if she gets any better and if not call me and I’ll get her an appointment with one of the pediatricians at the hospital.” 

“Okay,” you nodded. “I just don’t get why they kept saying colic like is that just some doctor term for I don’t know what’s wrong, but your baby is fussy?” 

“I don’t know,” James shook his head, “but don’t ever let anyone bully you into not trusting your gut. She’s your daughter and you know her best.” 

“You seem to know her pretty well too. You took one look at her and managed to help her when I couldn’t,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“Coincidence,” he patted your shoulder. 

“Give yourself a little credit. You’re with her a lot too, it’s part of why I trust your judgement so much when it comes to her. I know you’re not just going to tell me some medical mumbo jumbo you…you’re with her, you see how she is, you know.” 

“I don’t know how you managed to hold it together so well,” James said. “I was in there with her for twenty minutes and I wanted to cry right with her.” 

“It’s so hard,” you shook your head. “You can tell she’s uncomfortable, that something’s wrong, but she can’t tell you what.” 

James nodded his head, “Before you know it she’ll be walking and talking and hopefully it’ll be a lot easier to understand what she needs.” 

“It’s hard to imagine that,” you chuckled. “She is growing so fast though.” 

“And you’re doing a great job,” James wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you took a deep breath. You wanted to correct him and say ‘we’re doing a great job’, but everything about this felt so delicate. It wasn’t his responsibility to parent Liana and you didn’t want to pressure him into thinking that it had become that, but regardless you felt like he’d been around so much it would be wrong to give yourself full credit for everything. 

“It takes a village,” you settled on saying, extending your arm so it was wrapped around him as well. “Speaking of a village, I need to hire a nanny.” 

“So you’re going to go back to work?” he asked and you nodded. 

“Just part time for now. Pay is good enough. I should be fine with that for a while.” 

“Good,” James nodded. “Do you need help going through resumes?” 

“Nah, Janine is taking care of that for me, her boyfriend works with the police so free background checks. She’s gonna send me a short list and then I’ll interview them.” 

You looked up at James and chuckled, 

“You seem surprised.” 

“I didn’t know you outsourced to other people too,” he teased. 

“Are you jealous, Jamie?” you tickled his sides a little bit. “Come on, you know you’re my number one. Can you seriously tell me you could have gotten police-level background checks on nannies?” 

“I could have tried.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m gonna save you from this job so you can help me with other stuff, okay?” you turned him around and patted his chest. “I love you, James, but you can’t do it all. I have to look out for you too.” 

“You don’t have to look after me,” he assured you. “You’ve got a lot on your plate, I can take care of myself.” 

“James, that’s the whole point of this,” you pointed between you. “I’m not about to let it be one-sided.” 

“Is that why you keep packing me lunches?” he asked. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “And it's kind of fun leaving you little notes.” 

“House thinks I’m seeing someone because of what you put in the last one. He steals my food, you know.” 

“I’ll just pack double next time,” you laughed. 

James smiled at the sound of your laughter, savouring the moment of levity he was able to bring you after a long and hard few days. 

You looked back up at him once your laughter had died down and filled with a quiet sense of gratitude, you could help but lean into his side, sighing contentedly and it made you feel warm to the touch when his arm wrapped around you and pulled you in closer. 

Things may not have been simple or easy, but at least they felt right.

—

James was just about to leave his office to get some food in the cafeteria when he heard the phone ring, keeping him seated at his desk so he could answer. 

“Hello, Oncology Department. Dr. James Wilson speaking.”

“James, it’s me,” you said quickly, almost like you were in a hurry. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked. 

“Nothing dire,” you sighed. “My nanny got sick and my backup nanny is out of town and I have this huge meeting at work I cannot miss, but I-I don’t have anyone to look after Liana. I hate to ask this, you know I wouldn’t bug you unless it was a real emergency, but can I bring her by? Just for two maybe three hours tops. Then I’ll come grab her and she can be in my office with me for the rest of the day.”

“Yeah, of course, bring her over,” James nodded. “I have a few patient consults today, but nothing too strenuous or contagious for a small baby.”

“James, are you sure? I feel really bad asking-,”

“It’s fine. Today was going to be boring anyway, I could use some Liana time to spice things up.”

“James, I love you, you’re a lifesaver,” you breathed a sigh of relief. “I owe you one okay? Cash it in whenever.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he chuckled. “I’m gonna go grab a quick bite to eat. I’ll meet you in my office when you come.”

“Great, see you then.”

You both hung up and when James came back upstairs you were just arriving at his office with Liana strapped in her car seat and a bag slung around your shoulder. 

“Okay, I’ve got snacks, and a carrier, and her toys, and-,”

“Goodness, take a breath,” James chuckled. “We’re gonna be fine, I’ve looked after her before.” 

“I know, I know. I’m just nervous about this meeting and rushing around to get everything prepped and then the nannies fell through,” you took a deep breath to try and slow your heart down and James put a hand on your shoulder assuring you everything was going to be alright. 

“You’re gonna kill it at that meeting, alright?” he pulled you in for a quick hug. 

“Thanks again, I seriously appreciate and love you and your big fat heart.” 

“Thanks, I think,” he chuckled again. “I love you too.”

You kissed your hand and tapped it on his cheek before doing the same for Liana who smiled and James took a moment to stare out the door and watch you as you left the room, still feeling his heart beating a little faster after having said I love you. 

Ever since the day he came over when Liana was having a hard time, his heart would race and his palms would get sweaty every time he’d say those three words, knowing he meant it in a different way than he had been saying it all these years. 

“Liana banana, what am I gonna do,” James sighed and bent down so he was at eye level with her. “Do you think your mom knows?”

Liana babbled a response. 

“Me neither,” he sighed. “It’s okay though, cause we’re gonna have a fun day right?”

He unclipped her from the seat after fastening the baby carrier to his back to begin with before propping her up and clipping her inside. 

Once he was content with that, he checked the time and noticed he was almost late for a meeting with a patient who was staying at the hospital for treatment. 

James made his way down the halls, knowing not many would question him about the baby on his back, that was aside from his boss who now seemed to be walking directly towards him. 

He quickly took a detour into an empty room and thinking he lost her, let out a breath only to be startled when the door opened and Cuddy was standing in front of him. 

“Wilson,” she started. 

“Mhmm.”

“What’s on your back?” she asked, trying to get a better look, but James simply turned around.

“Oh it’s just a backpack,” he lied, only to be immediately ratted out by Liana’s nonsensical sounds. 

“You have a talking backpack?” Cuddy looked at him skeptically. 

“No, it’s a tumour. I’m dying,” he lied again, even more poorly than before.

Cuddy sighed, “Are we gonna get sued for it?” 

James pressed his lips together and shook his head. 

“Will someone get mad at you for it?”

He shook his head again.

“Is House involved?”

A third time. 

“Okay,” she nodded slowly. “I won’t question your…talking backpack tumour.”

James nodded his head and Cuddy left the room which hopefully meant he was in the clear for the rest of the day. 

Liana had other ideas and decided she didn’t like being in the carrier on his back anymore and began to cry. James wondered what was different, he’d done this with her before, but perhaps it was the new environment and she just wanted to be where she could see him.

So after some maneuvering, he changed the positioning of the carrier and put Liana back inside and she seemed much more relaxed afterwards. 

When he got to his patient he apologized for being late, but they were more focused on the child that James had yet to introduce. 

“Sorry, I’m a little all over the place right now,” he chuckled. “This is Liana, she’s going to be joining us today.”

“Is she your daughter?” he asked, seeing the way James smiled and held her when he introduced her. 

“No,” James shook his head. “She’s the daughter of one of my close friends. I’m just doing her a favour today.”

“Either way, it’s always nice to see someone smiling and happy around here.”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” James nodded. 

“How old is she?”

“Six months as of two weeks ago.”

“They grow fast, don’t they?”

James smiled and nodded, “They sure do.”

They continued their consult, and before long James wrapped things up and headed back to his office to meet with another patient. 

This time around he was feeding and burping Liana throughout the meeting and it felt so much like second nature to him, it didn’t take him away at all from the questions the patient was asking, and much like he expected, having a baby in the room was a nice distraction from the heavy subject matter. 

He got through the next few patients with ease, and he felt lucky that House only decided to come in after all his meetings were over. 

“Is that a baby?” House squinted, looking at Liana who was calmly playing with a toy in James’ lap. 

“No, it’s an alien,” he deadpanned and House ignored his comment. 

“Why do you have a baby? That must be breaking some hospital rule.”

“Since when do you care about rules?”

“Cause rules are there to protect us,” House said sarcastically. “Is this the one you spend all your free time with?”

“Her name is Liana,” James said while standing up and moving to put her in her car seat for a moment. “House, I’m gonna ask you to do something and I’m going to trust that you won’t blow this up in my face.”

“Go on.”

“I need to use the washroom, but you’ve seen the way they get cleaned here, I don’t want to bring Li with me,” he said. “Can you watch her for five minutes? You don’t even have to do anything, just stare at her in the carrier.”

House thought about it for a moment before eventually agreeing, James completely oblivious to his friend’s ulterior motive.

House first sat across from her, turning her car seat around on the table so it was facing him. They stared at each other for a few moments before House stood up and grabbed a picture from one of James’ shelves, sitting back down in front of her. 

“You’re probably too young to do this, but never too young to learn, right?”

Liana had no response. 

“You see this guy?” House pointed to James in the photo. “He’s dada, right?”

House continued to prompt her, even though he knew she was too young to speak, thinking this would make a great prank if he played his cards right. 

House continued to go back and forth with Liana between her babbles, until he heard James begin to open the door of the office. 

“Everything okay?” he asked. 

“Perfect,” House nodded. “Your daughter’s an angel.” 

James frowned, unable to tell if House was being sarcastic or not, but he was quickly distracted by the frame in his hand.

“Why do you have that picture?” James came closer and took it from him.

“Oh, just trying to pass the time with a story.” 

“The story of what exactly? This is just a picture of me with my parents.” 

“I don’t know I made something up, she’s a baby, she won’t remember,” House insisted before leaving the office before James could ask any more questions. 

A little confused by the encounter, he made his way over to Liana who was reaching out for him. 

He checked the time, seeing as your meeting should probably have been over by then and decided to give you a call. 

“Hey, I was just about to come and pick Liana up,” you said. 

“Yeah, about that, do you just want to leave her with me for the rest of the day?” he asked. “She’s been really good and honestly I think the patients have been loving seeing a baby around.” 

“James, it’s fine, my meeting is over. I can come get her,” you said. 

James pressed his lips together before gathering the nerve to say what he was going to say. 

“I actually would really like it if she could stay with me,” he said. “If you’re okay with it.”

You paused, “This isn’t just some round about way for you to find a way to give me a break?” you asked. 

“No, I’m really happy she’s here. I was going to come over after work anyways.” 

“You still have the car seat hookup in your car?” you asked and he confirmed. “Okay, call me if you need anything, Jamie.” 

“I will, and thank you.” 

“Just don’t break her, okay, she’s not replaceable,” you teased. 

“I’ll bring her back in one piece,” James chuckled. “We’ll be fine, right Li?” 

James gave her a little tickle so that you could hear her laugh in response and you couldn't help but smile before saying goodbye and feeling more at ease leaving her with James than you ever had leaving her with a babysitter. 

—

It always felt interesting coming back to Princeton-Plainsboro after you had given birth to Liana. It brought back a lot of memories, both good and maybe not so great of your pregnancy, but recently you and Liana had been visiting a little more often to have lunch with James when you weren’t working. 

Today wasn’t one of those days, you were actually just on your way back home after running a few errands and since you were in the area you thought you might stop in and talk to James about that evening. 

When you went by his office you peeked inside and noticed he wasn’t there and before you could decide the best course of action, you heard a semi familiar voice behind you. 

“You looking for Wilson?” 

You turned around and saw House standing in front of you. 

“Yeah, actually. Do you know where he is?” 

“I think he just went to Cuddy’s office,” he said. 

“Alright, I’ll head back downstairs then,” you smiled and were about to haul Liana’s car seat with you, but House stopped you. 

“If you want I can look after her in my office,” he said.

“Really?” you seemed a little surprised from the offer, but figured it couldn’t be too bad to leave her with him for five minutes. 

“Sure,” House nodded, making it seem like it was no big deal, when really he had already pocketed a picture of James and was looking for another opportunity to continue his prank. 

“Alright, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” you said while walking over to his office and putting her car seat on the main table before walking down the hallways and over to the elevator to go and find James, but just to your luck, he was coming out just as you had planned to enter. “Hey, I was looking for you,” you smiled. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were coming, did we make plans?” he asked, worried he’d forgotten about something. 

“No, I was just in the area and, well my mom and dad are coming over for dinner tonight, I was wondering if you wanted to join us.” 

“Dinner sounds nice,” James nodded. “And I haven’t seen your parents in a while, I just seem to miss them every time they come into town.” 

“Yeah, that’s why I thought I’d ask, also maybe as a warning in case you wanted to get as far away as you could,” you chuckled. 

“Come on, they’re not that bad,” he nudged you. 

“Most of the time, but then again, you’re not their child.” 

“Wait, where’s Liana?” James asked. “With a sitter at home?” 

“No, I left her with House.” 

James’ eyes went wide, “You left her with House?”

“Yeah, what’s the big deal?” you chuckled as James began to walk towards House’s office to make sure he wasn’t up to one of his many schemes. “James he offered!” you called back and that only made him walk faster. 

It took you a minute to catch up with him, but by that time he was already interrogating House who was simply sitting in front of Liana. 

“Can't I offer to look after my friend’s friend’s baby?” House asked. 

“Usually someone could, but when that person is you you may see why I think you have some ulterior motive.” 

“James what’s going on?” you asked, coming closer to House. “Liana’s fine, I don’t know why you’re being so dramatic.” 

“Yeah, listen to single mom over here,” he pointed to you. 

James backed off if only for your sake, but he still kept a close eye on House as you picked up Liana’s car seat and told James you’d see him after his shift was over. 

He nodded his head and you exchanged a kiss on the cheek before heading out. 

“You’re really telling me you’re not getting some of that on the side?” House asked. 

“House, drop it,” James was unamused. “I know you’re up to something, I just don’t know what.” 

“I guess you’re just going to have to wait and find out,” House shrugged. “In the meantime may I suggest you go get your freak on with the mom? You know she probably hasn’t slept with anyone since that kid was conceived, I’m sure you’d have an easy time convincing her.” 

“Shut up, House,” James rolled his eyes and left the office before he could suggest anything more obscene. 

He was thankful when the end of his shift came, and before heading to your place he made a stop at the store to buy some flowers and dessert to bring over. 

By this point, it was such a habit, he never knocked, just opened the door with his key and announced his presence to whoever was in the house. 

“Hey Liana, look who’s here,” you smiled and pointed to James while Liana was being held by your mother. 

Liana became very excited at the sight of him and he quickly put down the things he brought on the table before saying his greetings and giving special attention to Liana by means of a kiss on her nose and caress of her face. 

“Do you want something to drink?” you asked. “Mom and dad brought some fancy-looking sparkling fruit juice.” 

“I could go for some of that,” James nodded. “How have you guys been, I missed you the last time you were in town.” 

“We’ve been good,” your dad nodded. 

“Unfortunately our granddaughter doesn’t come to visit us very much,” your mom gave you a bit of a look and you rolled your eyes. 

“Mom, you guys are retired, I have a job, why don’t we keep this ‘you visit me’ arrangement a while longer until my life sorts itself out a bit more.” 

“She’s not wrong, honey,” your dad came and patted his wife’s shoulder. 

“I know, I just wish we got to see Liana more. We should come down more often.” 

“What about you, James, anything new in your life?” 

James looked over at you before shaking his head. 

“No, still working at the same place still…” 

“Trying to find the right person,” you filled in for him, placing a hand on his shoulder and handing him his drink. 

“Yeah,” he nodded with a soft smile and couldn’t help but laugh a little internally at the irony. Maybe the right person had been there all along, the person he’d never once pulled away from, the person he let take care of him, the person who he’d realized he’d most definitely fallen in love with, but risking things between you was out of the question so he would have to be content with the way things were. 

“You’re the head of your department, right?” your mom asked and James nodded. “Wow, that’s quite something, your parents must be proud of you.” 

“Yes, it never fails to come up in conversation with my mother,” he chuckled. 

Liana began to fuss a little bit in her grandmother’s arms and after a few failed attempts at calming her down James offered to take over. 

“Are you sure, honey?” she asked. “She gets a bit cranky and it’s hard to calm her down.” 

“Don’t worry mom, James is an expert,” you assured her. 

James nodded and confirmed he was sure before gently bouncing Liana until she stopped crying and wiping away whatever tears of hers were remaining. 

“She seems very attached to you,” your dad remarked and James looked down at Liana who now had her head resting against his chest. 

“The feeling’s quite mutual,” James chuckled. “Does she need to be fed?” he asked you. 

“Yeah we’re probably getting close to that time now, I’ll warm up the bottle. Maybe I can feed her and you can deal with the sauce on the stove, it’s missing something and I can’t place it.” 

“Sure,” James nodded and waited for you to heat up Liana’s bottle before passing her over and taking a turn at the stove. 

Your parents watched your interactions curiously and shared a few looks between themselves, but chose to say nothing. They’d known James since you were both nineteen and a lot of things had happened since then, but a lot of time had passed too. It was interesting how your comfort with each other in friendship had so naturally extended itself in this way that you were practically functioning as a family whether you noticed it, or maybe deliberately chose to ignore it. 

After you fed Liana and burped her, she was quick to fall asleep and you placed her in her cot in your room before joining James and your parents in the kitchen where they were bringing things to the dining room to lay them out on the table.

“This looks really delicious sweetheart, thank you for making dinner,” your dad said. “And you too James for taking over there in the home stretch.” 

“For all we know it could have tasted terrible before he came in so he can take the credit for that,” you chuckled. 

“No, I gave it a taste before adding anything. It just needed a little something sour to balance some things out, otherwise it was perfect,” he assured you. 

Dinner with your parents was mostly small talk. They shared a little about some of your relatives they had recently spoken to or visited and asked James how his family was doing and they left fairly early to start the drive back home. 

“I’ll load the dishes you put away the leftovers?” James yawned and you chuckled. 

“How about I do both since I had a day off and you go and lay down for a bit,” you suggested. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about I’m fine,” James waved his hand but yawned again. 

“Go to sleep, James. That’s not a suggestion,” you walked up to him. “My ex left some sweatpants here you can change into those and take off this button up,” you tugged at his shirt. 

James pressed his lips together and nodded his head, before heading over to the bedroom and quietly getting changed before climbing into bed and not fighting the sleep that came. 

He initially wasn’t sure how much later it was when he woke up, but by the looks of it much too late to go come considering you were next to him, despite being groggy, he had a million and one things crossing his mind, but all of those were thrown out when he heard Liana begin to cry. 

You shifted next to him, waking up to go and take care of it, but James put an arm on your shoulder. 

“I’ve got it, go back to sleep,” he assured you. 

You were too tired to argue with him and let your head hit the pillow again while he stood up and picked Liana up from her crib, heading out to the kitchen so he could heat up a bottle for her before coming back and sitting in the chair to feed her. 

You watched the scene in front of you and you felt yourself wanting to memorize every detail. How he held her, the quiet things he whispered, the way she curled into his arms while he stood up and rocked her back to sleep. 

When he came back to the bed he noticed you were awake and he let out a soft chuckle and you smiled looking up at him with his messy hair. Suddenly you were nineteen again and banging on the door of cabin 3 trying to wake your fellow counsellor to come and deal with an emergency. To you he looked the same as he did all those years ago. 

“I told you to go back to sleep.” 

“Not everyone can fall asleep instantly,” you yawned with a chuckle. 

“You didn’t wake me up to leave,” he said quietly, his head resting on his hand that propped him up. 

“You always look so peaceful when you sleep, I feel evil whenever I have to wake you up,” you remarked, but behind your eyes if he could see through the darkness of the room, he would have seen them saying something else. That you wanted him to stay, you didn’t want to wake him up because you wanted to wake up next to him. “You don’t mind do you?” 

“That you’re making me do the walk of shame in the morning?” James teased and shook his head. 

“Just shut up and go back to sleep, Jamie,” you yawned with a chuckle. 

He moved so he was laying down on his back with an arm behind his head and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Maybe he could feel you staring because he reached his other arm out and pulled you closer and you moved with him until your head rested against his chest, your arm draped over top of him. 

He gave you a gentle squeeze with the arm that was wrapped around you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Goodnight, Jamie,” you mumbled into his shirt. 

You couldn’t see how he looked down and smiled at you after you said that, all that filled your ears was a quiet, “Goodnight.”

—

“I haven’t seen you in a few days, how have you been?” 

James sat on the carpet of the living room, playing with Liana who was crawling around him while you brought over two mugs of tea so you could chat while you entertained the growing baby. 

“Good for the most part, just had a patient who wasn’t doing so great so I spent some extra time at the hospital to keep an eye on things. Not to mention House has been bugging me to go out and it’s been a while so I figured what’s the harm.”

“He got you plastered and you made a fool of yourself, didn’t he?” you asked and James nodded while you laughed. “Liana, did James go out with House and act like an idiot?” you tickled the ten month old and she giggled before coming closer to you, tapping on your legs with her hands. 

“Don’t listen to your mama, Li, she’s trying to-,”

“Mama,” Liana repeated after James had spoken and you both stopped dead in your tracks. 

You looked over at James and his smile was just as wide as yours before you picked Liana up and smothered her with kisses. 

“Liana, look at you! You said your first word!”

“Good job, Liana banana,” James grinned and gave her cheek a little pinch which made her reach out to him and say, 

“Dada.”

You both had a similar reaction to what happened moments ago, only this time it was pure shock. Maybe you had misheard her, but when she repeated herself, James could feel his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. 

“I-I don’t know where she learnt that from,” he told you. “I swear I didn’t teach her that.”

It took a minute for the shock to fade away for you, but once it did you tried to assure James that it was okay. 

“I believe you,” you said. “I-I don’t know where she picked it up from, but it’s okay.”

James chewed on his lip, it wasn’t okay though because he wanted nothing more than to hear Liana say that again. 

“It’s not though,” James said softly. “I love her, but I’m not her dad. That’s not fair to her or to you.”

“Jamie,” you pleaded with him, but he still seemed stuck on something. 

“I’m really sorry,” he apologized again. “I feel like I ruined a special moment.”

“I’m trying to tell you it really doesn’t matter,” you assured him, you could see it in his eyes, he wanted to leave, to let you have time alone, but you didn’t want to be alone, you wanted him to stay with you. “Please…please stay.”

James reached out his hand to hold yours and was about to give you his answer when his pager went off. 

Your heart clenched and you watched as he read the message and sighed, standing up because he was needed again at the hospital. 

“Your patient?” you asked, picking Liana up and standing next to him. 

He nodded his head, “They were scheduled for an unrelated surgery and there were some complications, I have to go.”

You understood and James wrapped you in a tight hug and you kissed his cheek. 

“I love you, Jamie.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, wishing he could hold onto you and never let you go, but instead he was pulled away from your warm embrace wondering how on earth Liana had learnt to call him dad. 

—

“You look like you haven’t slept in days, spending time with the baby again?” House asked, waltzing into James’ office. 

“No, I haven't been over in a few days,” James shook his head. 

“You haven’t been over in a few days…Something happened,” House deduced and James gave him a look. 

“Nothing happened. I’m just taking a break,” he lied. 

“You’ve been going non-stop to spend time with them since the baby was born ten months ago, why do you need a break now?” 

“Because I have a lot on my mind and there’s a few new patients I need to focus on-,” 

“You’re lying.” 

“Yes I am,” James admitted and House grinned. 

“Really?” 

“No, I’m not,” he shook his head and continued to look down and do his work. 

“We do this every single time and every single time I’m right,” House said. “Why don’t we save the back and forth for another time and just skip to the part where you tell me what’s going on.” 

“Oh really and you were right that time you thought I was cheating on my wife and she was the one cheating on me?” he asked. 

“Okay, so I’m not perfect,” House shrugged. “What happened, Wilson? I could just as easily get your friend’s number and ask directly if that’s what you’d prefer.” 

“God no,” James shook his head. “Leave her alone, she doesn’t need to deal with you on top of working and raising a child.” 

“Alright then, what happened?” 

James took a deep breath and sighed, “Liana called me dad the other day. I have no idea where she learnt it from.” 

“She started speaking,” House nodded, pressing his lips together. “Was it her first word or-,” 

“Second. She said mom first,” James said, but caught a glimpse of his friend trying to fight back a smile and suddenly all the offers to take care of Liana paired with the photographs made sense. “You taught her!” he exclaimed. “House I can’t believe you’d pull a prank on me by manipulating my friend’s baby!” 

“Oh come on, it’s not that big of a deal,” House rolled his eyes. 

“House, I cannot believe you!” 

“You’re not mad at me,” House shook his head. “You’re just mad you liked it.” 

“No I’m-,” 

“Yes, you are,” the diagnostician emphasized. “You’ve been sitting here tearing yourself apart for the past four days because she called you dad and you liked it. You’re mad at yourself for liking it because she’s not your kid.” 

“No,” James quieted down. “She’s not.” 

“You haven’t gone back because you’re afraid to hear her say it again, aren’t you?” 

“Since when did you become an expert on my personal problems, House? You caused this, why should I listen to anything you have to say?” 

“Because you’re being an idiot. You’re punishing yourself for liking something. Do you realize how insane that sounds?” 

“It’s not insane, House, she’s not my baby-,” 

“Sure, she’s not your baby and you have her feeding and nap routine memorized. You’ve been to her doctor's appointments, she’s calmer in your arms than she is in the arms of her grandparents. Yeah, go and tell that to any moron sitting out there and they’ll tell you for me, you’re being an idiot.” 

James sighed again, “And why do you care?” 

“Because once you’re done with this spiral we can go back to the way things were when you weren’t a boring depressed lump.” 

“How kind of you,” James faked a smile. 

House’s pager went off, leaving James alone again in his office, thinking about what his friend had said. 

You’d told him so many times that things were okay, but maybe a part of him didn’t want to let him believe that you didn’t mind because that was a slippery slope to him facing himself and his feelings and he didn’t care what his heart was telling him, he wouldn’t put himself through that. He wouldn’t put you and Liana through that. But at the same time, he couldn’t keep himself away forever. He didn’t want that either.

So with a deep breath he picked up his office phone and dialled your number, putting it up to his ear and waiting for the line to connect on the other end. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, it’s me.” 

“James,” your voice sounded almost relieved. “H-Hey, how are you?” 

He pressed his lips together, “Miserable, actually. I miss you guys.” 

“We miss you too,” you chuckled with a small sniffle. 

“C-Can I come over for dinner tonight?” he asked. 

“You still have a key, what do you think?” you asked with a bit of a laugh. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

“Yeah, see you then,” James smiled and after he hung up the phone he took a deep breath, his fast heartbeat slowing down by the second. 

Maybe this time House was right.

—

The next few weeks passed by and things resumed to their normal state, much to House’s delight. James’ role as department head always meant at least one day a week where he would stay late and do some extra paperwork, dealing with anything that may have slipped through the cracks before. 

This time, that had fallen on a Sunday and it was just past dinner when he heard a knock on his door and wondering who was on the other end he called for them to come in. 

You opened the door a crack and again asked permission to come in and James smiled at you, looking up from his paperwork, not expecting to see you in the hospital. 

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting to see you here, what’s going on?” 

“I just wanted to drop by and bring you something for dinner, I know it’s your paperwork day.” 

“Thanks, that’s really sweet of you,” he stood up from his chair and came to stand in front of his desk, leaning back on it while you placed the take out bag on the table. “Where’s Liana?” 

“Oh Helen’s looking after her tonight,” you said. “I had a few things I needed to do and um just wanted the evening off,” you admitted. 

“Fair enough,” James nodded. 

“I actually brought you something else,” you rolled back and forth on the balls of your feet and James noticed the tension in your stature. “H-Here,” you handed him a gift bag which he eyed curiously. 

Today wasn’t his birthday or some memorable event you celebrated together. There wasn’t much of a reason to get him a present which made it all the more intriguing. 

He pulled out a wrapped rectangular box from the bag, and putting the bag aside he began to carefully tear away the wrapping paper to reveal what looked like a picture frame. Overlaid on the frame, on top of the photo, James noticed a card which he unfolded to read its contents. 

Happy Father’s Day. We love you loads. - Liana and Mom

James moved the card to see the picture and put his hand over his mouth, feeling tears involuntarily form in his eyes as he saw the familiar scene of your room, lit by the light of your lamp as Liana was fast asleep against his chest while he napped on the armchair. 

James quickly wiped away the few tears that were in his eyes and looked up at you with a grateful smile, looking back down at the image before placing it neatly on his desk along with the card. 

“I hope you like it,” you said quietly, biting your lip. “I thought you might want to have a copy of that picture and…you know just a thank you for everything you’ve done for me and Liana this past year.” 

“I love it,” he assured you. “I-I love it and I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you smiled.

“N-No,” James came closer and reached out, taking your hands in his. “I…I love you. I’m in love with you.” 

“Jamie,” you spoke in a breathy whisper, unsure of how you lost your voice. “I-,” you opened your mouth to speak again, but paused when James raised a hand to your face, wiping away the tears you didn’t even notice had begun to stream down. 

“I just don’t want to be away from you, ever,” he said softly. “I never did. And now with Liana, I want to be there, for all of it.” 

You held the wrist of his hand that held your face, pulling him in closer so your foreheads rested against each other. 

You took in a shaky breath, thinking back on those words. Something you’d been saying to each other for longer than you could remember. The first time was so clear in your mind, you were on the phone racking up long distance charges while James was in Montreal. It had slipped out by accident, a reflex, and you had convinced yourself when the phone had hung up you’d never call him back, unable to face what you’d just said, but before you could spiral any further, he said it back and you never stopped saying it.

For the longest time that was the only occurrence that was memorable, everything else was a blur, that was until a few months ago. It was so simple, you had fallen asleep on the couch and James had made sure Liana was fed and bathed and even cleared up some things in the kitchen before sitting on the couch with some tea and a book. You had talked and said I love you as a thank you, but when the words left your mouth they also left a lingering airiness in your heart, a feather light feeling that came crashing down like an anvil when he left to go home because you realized you never wanted to be apart from him.

It took you a few moments to realize you hadn’t said anything and James was anxiously waiting for some sort of communication, anything, but since the meaning of your words had changed, for both of you, you thought it might be more conducive to work in actions.

You closed in the space between you, at first gently resting your lips on his and letting him lead you in a soft and slow kiss, putting aside all the restraint you both had been using these past months in an effort to protect your friendship.

One of James’ hands held onto your waist, pulling you in so that there was no space left between you. He kissed you again and again, remembering each one as a core memory, engraved in his mind, paired with the feeling of your arms wrapped around his neck, the feeling of your body pressed so closely against his, his heart beating outside of his chest. 

It was easy for his lips to trail away from yours, moving along your jaw, to your temple before you had pulled each other into a warm embrace, simply existing in each other’s arms. James thought to himself what a nice life it would be, not ever having to pull away. 

—

“I don’t have much to say,” James smiled. “Everything is looking good, you still seem 100% healthy to me.” 

“That’s great news.” 

“It definitely is. Standard procedure, but we’ll have one more of these remission follow ups to make sure everything is still in order then you hopefully won’t have to see me again.” 

“Thank you Dr. Wilson, I really appreciate all you’ve-.” 

“Dad!” 

“Sweetheart, wait he’s with a patient!” 

James turned his head and saw Liana running over to him, you valiantly trying to chase after her without much success. 

He quickly scooped her up in his arms before she crashed into him, pressing a big kiss to her cheek. 

“Sorry about that,” James apologized. “It’s Saturday, we normally have lunch together.” 

“No worries,” he chuckled. 

“Liana, this is my patient Mr. Kimbilio, can you say hi?” 

Liana waved and said hi, very exuberantly. 

“This is my daughter,” James introduced. “And that’s my wife,” he pointed over to you. 

“Daughter,” Mr. Kimbilio smiled. “I think I met you Liana, when you were very small. Your father was looking after you at work and so some of his patients got to meet you.” 

“Really?” she looked up at her dad and he nodded. 

“He’s right, I remember that,” James smiled. “You’ve grown a lot since then, haven’t you Li,” he kissed her cheek again and she giggled.

You finally caught up to the group and James greeted you with a quick kiss, passing Liana off to you so he could wrap things up and you could all go down to the cafeteria for lunch together. 

“If I remember correctly,” Mr. Kimbilio started. “You didn’t introduce her as your daughter the first time we met. I’m glad something changed.” 

“Me too,” James smiled, looking over at his wife and daughter fondly who were now in the midst of making him very proud by pulling off a small prank on House as he came out of his office. 

It didn’t take much longer for them to wrap things up and you and Liana made a quick pit stop inside James’ office before heading downstairs.

Liana went to go sit in James’ seat while he put away his files and organized them. 

It had been a while since you’d been in his office, but it felt like ever since the night you first kissed things had begun to change in the room. 

His desk was now more littered with photos than knickknacks and Liana’s artwork was posted wherever there was room. 

You came around to the other side, looking a little more closely at the pictures. 

There was one of you, James, and Liana on your wedding day, another of just the two of you during an anniversary celebration, Liana’s kindergarten photo from school and another one of you as a family on your last vacation. And still as prominent as ever, the framed photo you had gifted James on his first father’s day. 

“You ready to go?” he asked you, looking up and noticing your eyes gazing at the pictures on his desk. 

When you didn’t initially respond, too focused on what you were looking at, James wrapped an arm around you and tilted your chin towards him so he could press a kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” you smiled and James kissed you again, saying.

“And I love you,” before moving over to pick up Liana and kiss her cheek. “And you.”

Liana giggled, feeling tickled by the kisses and moving to give both of you a kiss on the cheek before saying. 

“Mom, Dad, I’m starving. Can we go eat now?”

“Sure, Liana banana,” James chuckled and you wrapped an arm around him, walking side by side out of the office and in the direction of the elevator to get to the cafeteria, thinking you were pretty lucky that in the end, your best friend listened to his heart and went after what he wanted.

TAGLIST —

@cuntyvicodin @paola-carter @kiddbegins @il0vebeingdelulu @illicit4ff4irs @lynnsthoughts @miarabanana @iwmflbb @shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey @sarcasm-and-stiles @sun-flower-mad @x-uno @han11dh @qardasngan @alexxavicry

[evalevaeva]

love this

Hurt-Ron Weasley

Description: Your relationship with Ron was seemingly going pretty well. You both were happy and all you needed was each other. But, Ron slowly grew more and more distant, without a reason why. And as more fights came, you slowly started to lose it.

A/N: I was actually so excited to get back to writing, so I have a new Ron fic for my angst loving babes.

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings: Mild language, not too excessive, might be structured weirdly cause i’m tired 

Part Two

——————————–—————————————————————————

He was always there before. At the start of your relationship, Ron would be glued to your hip like a baby on a mothers side. He would be with you constantly, talking to you constantly etc etc. You felt like you were on cloud nine when you were with him, which was all the time. Ron never failed to make you smile, you were always laughing and giggling with him, like a little girl. You two were completely and utterly in love. But something changed.

Around the time of the yule ball, tensions got high between Ron and Harry. Ron accused Harry of butting his name in the goblet behind his back, while Harry claimed he did no such thing. You had no idea how such a silly thing could turn into tearing a trio in half, but it had. You had tried to be there for Ron, showing him love and kindness even if he was short and rude to you, you still held your kindness high up, hoping that Ron would see how he was acting towards you and change, but he never saw his fault, and never did change.

It wasn’t until the first fight you had with Ron that made you realize the dreaded truth. That Ron was not going to change anytime soon. 

———————————————————————————————————–

It was a cold winter day, and you loved it. You were at peace with the snow falling at your side, hands wrapped up in gloves and necked neatly covered in the red and gold scarf given to you by Ron. You listened as people laughed far off in the distance, but that did not bother you. You were content with sitting in the snow, watching the landscape and taking in your surroundings. 

Your harmony was unfortunately interrupted by a very angry Ronald Weasley stomping your way. You immediately knew that it was him when you heard the rough crunching of snow and whispers of incoherent curses coming from his mouth. You turned your head and were met with a bright red, and choleric, Weasley boy. 

Sighing to yourself, you turned your body around to face the grumpy ginger, and with a glare he stared at you back. 

“What’s wrong Ron?” You purposely tried to add a milk and honey texture to your voice, to try and show him that you were trying to help him. Apparently, the message was not sent. Ron glared even harder at you, his frown growing deeper as he rolled his eyes at you and attempted to continue on his pity party journey. You stopped him once more by grabbing his arm, but he didn’t even let you get a word out before his top blew off and he was yelling at you. 

“Bloody Hell Y/N! Can’t you see I do NOT want to talk to you right now?” You were taken back by his sudden outburst, he never yelled at you like this, why now?

“Well Ron, I’m trying to help you. You look angry-”

“Yes I’m angry and you nagging me about why I’m angry isn’t helping.” 

“Nagging? Ron, I asked you one question.”

“A question I do not feel like answering.” 

You didn’t know what to say. You were astonished at the sudden cut-throat attitude of your once so sweet and pleasurable boyfriend. 

“God forbid I’m worried about you Ron, am I not allowed to worry about you?” Ron glared at you and took a step forward so you were face to face. You felt the heat of his anger burning off his cheeks and you knew the words about to come out of his mouth were not going to be pleasant ones.

“I don’t need someone worrying about me like I’m a little kid. Get off my back and leave me alone. Can you at least do that right?” 

You were frozen. Your words caught in your throat and choked you when you tried to talk. You felt a rush of several different emotions rush through you at once. Anger, sadness, confusion, all of them were racing through you. You looked at Ron’s eyes and searched for any sign of remorse, or hurt. Any sign that he possibly didn’t mean what he had said, but you found none. Nothing was behind his eyes except a blazing fire of anger.

You let him walk away. No words you could muster up would make him turn back and you knew that. You just stood there as you tried to comprehend what he would have meant. So many things ran through your mind as you felt your cheeks grow warm and your eyes start to weld up.

———————————————————————————————————–Ever since that day weeks ago, you hadn’t spoken to Ron. Just as he asked you. The yule ball was approaching and you didn’t know if you and Ron were going together or not. You told yourself that it was evident that he would ask you, or that you would just go together since you were his girlfriend, or, you at least thought it was evident. This was until you came across Ron asking a girl to go with him, to which he got rejected. You stood there puzzled, why hadn’t he asked you? You were his girlfriend. You listened as he complained to Harry about not being able to find a date, and this was your turning point.

You hurriedly stomped up to him and turned him around by a quick pull of the shoulder. He looked confused at first, his confusion was followed up by a swift and hard slap to the face. The slap echoed throughout the courtyard and people stopped to look at the origination of the sound, but you didn’t care.  You tried to stop yourself from crying as you stood there breathing heavily. 

“Bloody hell Y/N! What was that for?!”

“You, You Ronald Weasley are a complete ASSHOLE!” And with your harsh words you shoved him backwards, causing him to fall and stare up at you in wonder, wonder in what he could’ve possibly done to offend you.

“Mate, did you not ask her?” Was all Harry said before you turned yourself around and walked away? Tears stain your cheeks as you try to recollect your breathing.

———————————————————————————————————–

The yule ball came a week later, and still, Ron could barely even give you a glance. You were, nonetheless, trying to enjoy your night, you wouldn’t let some boy ruin your night. But, throughout the night, you couldn’t help but catch yourself staring at him. He was never looking at you, nor did he try. Of course, this made you sad but a lot of things Ron had done recently made you sad. 

You caught your eyes drifting over to Ron once more, and this time, he was glaring at someone. You followed his gaze and your eyes landed on Hermione and Krum dancing together. You looked back between Ron and Hermione and Krum. You couldn’t believe it. He was jealous of Krum. Rage engulfed you and you felt yourself once again crying. Your sudden rage had caused you to squeeze your glass a little too tight. The sound of breaking glass caused Ron to look over at you, and a couple people as well followed his gaze. You stared Ron down, the pain from your heart outnumbered the pain in your hand. You felt blood rush down your arm, a result of the glass cutting deep into your hand. 

You kept looking at Ron, and he kept looking at you. He saw the blood falling and decided it was best if he got up to check on you, but as he got closer you shook your head, repeatedly saying no as you tried to push him away. He was confused about this, and still advanced further. Your series of no’s got louder and louder until you shouted at him. The shout was lost in the music, and you looked at Ron with hateful eyes.

“Y/N, you’re hurt. Please let me take you to Madam Pomfrey.” His voice sounded so genuine, and for a second you thought he truly did care for you. He reached out his arms to hold your bleeding hand, but, just as you were about to give your hand to him, you caught him taking a quick glance over his shoulder, in the direction of Hermione and Krum. 

“NO. FUCK you, Ronald Weasley. FUCK you. I HATE YOU.” You walked backward, the words you were speaking were foreign to you, you had never told him you hated him, and you felt incredibly bad for it, but at the moment, it felt like it needed to be said. He looked hurt as he slowly put his hands down at his sides and stared at you in disbelief. 

“I wish I never dated you, Ronald Weasley. I hate you.” 

———————————————————————————————————–

You sat in your room, your hand still moderately bleeding through the cloth around it. You thought back on the words you had said to Ron. You knew you didn’t mean a word you said. But, seeing the way he stared at Hermione and Krum set you off. You could tell he wanted to be Krum, he wanted to be in his place. And the way he looked at Hermione? God, you had felt like he had ripped your heart out and laughed as he stomped on it. 

He had never looked at you like that, with such adoration, compassion, and with such love. The mere thought of this made you sob, your makeup running down your face as the moonlight hugged you in the red dress that you had gotten just for him. 

You planned on staying in your room all night, crying your guts out until you cried yourself dry and fell asleep. But, unexpectedly you heard a quiet voice saying your name, and a knock at the door.

———————————————————————————————————–

[evalevaeva]

Love this

Metamorphosis | F.W. x Reader

Summary: Fred has been acting differently since he got hurt during the War. You're not sure how many more of his outbursts you can handle.

CW: established relationship, mentions of a head injury, TBIs, migraines, blood, being cut from broken glass, yelling, arguing, crying, not proofread

WC: 4.3k

A/N: now this one is a rollercoaster

based off this request! | f.w. masterlist | navi

Things had been difficult since May.

Voldemort was dead and the war was over. But everyone was dealing with the aftermath.

Things were quiet for a while, people were quiet. Distant but united at the same time. It took a few months for everyone to try and go back to normal.

Now it was November, and Fred was still dealing with the aftermath.

Of course, a head injury from being hit with a spell and a literal stone wall falling on him would have its long-term effects. You’d already read the list over who knows how many times.

Memory loss, light sensitivity, aggression, problems with multitasking, communication issues, irritability, mood swings, forgetfulness, etc. The list went on and on, you hated how long it was. 

You did research on it, listening to his doctors and picking up as many books you could find on head injuries or TBIs.

You even got your hands on some textbooks that muggle medical students used.

George and you took care of Fred after he came back to your shared space above the shop. He spent his first week after being discharged from the hospital at his mums, due to Mollys demands.

Things slowly went back to normal after a few months. Most things.

Shops reopened all along Diagon Alley, including the twins, people felt safe to go out and chat with each other again. 

Life went back to how it was before the war began.

The cold weather was getting harsher and so was Fred. 

You knew that the irritability and mood swings would come along with the injury. You just weren’t expecting it to be so constant.

Fred had his bad days and he had his better days. Today was one of those bad days.

You could tell he was really struggling remembering what was in stock and what needed to be made more of. You sat with him at the counter as he wrote down on a notepad what was needed. Taking notes was one of the things that helped him nowadays.

You saw him look up, the cogs attempting to turn in his head.

“Peruvian Darkness Powder.” You said softly, it was the next thing that needed to be restocked.

“Right. That. Thanks.” He muttered out, crouching over to write it down, his hand shaky and handwriting a bit wobbled.

Frustrated with his shaky hands, he threw the pen down, putting his head in his hands, rubbing his face.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard. I feel like I can’t properly do anything.” He groaned, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Fred, it's what the symptoms of a-”

“I know it’s a fucking brain injury. I’ve heard it enough goddamn times. You don’t need to spell it out for me.” Fred spat out, ripping his hand from yours and walking past you. That was the fourth time he snapped at you today.

After closing that night, you sat on the bench right outside the shop. Elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands.

You were really trying here. Trying your best not to get mad at him, to yell and spit at him as he did you.

He was still your Fred that you loved. He was just a bit different now, and that was okay, he was still your Fred.

The door to the shop opened, the silly tune of the charmed bell playing as a tall figure stepped out. Fred stood to the side of you now, his frame blocked out the light shining on you from the street lamps. The only light now being from the inside of the shop, illuminating his and your face once you looked up.

You breathed in deep, closing your eyes for a second, trying to keep any tears from falling. The cold wind wasn’t helping.

“Hi.” He gave you a shamefaced smile.

George had definitely scolded him and told him to apologize once you went outside. It’s not the first time he’s made him do it in recent times.

“Hi.” You sighed.

“I’m- I didn’t mean to snap at you when you were trying to help me with what needed to be restocked, or when you offered to sort the mail.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling small. The feeling had become constant for him now.

“And before both of those, when you snapped at me in your office. Then in front of one of the cashiers.”

“I did?” He said softly, genuinely shocked. You nodded, brows knit together.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize. I don’t even remember that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so harsh.” Fred looked down, having the same expression as a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay, Fred. I know you don’t mean to.” You slowly nodded.

“I’m trying to not be so rude. I’m trying to be better, I promise.”

“I know, Fred. I know.” You sniffled.

The doctors said practicing patterns would help with cognitive ability. Patterning. So stocking the purple and orange mystery boxes in a pattern would be Fred’s practice.

He began to practice different patterns:

Purple. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

Then moved onto a bit more strange ones:

Purple. Purple. Orange. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat. 

He was struggling a bit more than usual today, you watched as he did, and it broke your heart.

You sighed as you put your notepad away, pausing writing down the grocery list for now and making your way over to Fred.

You reached out, putting the next correctly colored box on the shelf for him. He grumbled out a ‘thanks’.

“I can do the rest for you. Go give your brain a break.” You breathed out a laugh, trying to be lighthearted as you picked up the large box filled with the remaining mystery boxes to be put away.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”  Fred mumbled out, paying you barely any mind.

“Fred, I can tell your stressed enough just let me-“

“Will you piss off? I said I've got it!” Fred didn’t mean to yell, especially in the middle of a busy store, he was just frustrated. 

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and anger due to all the staring eyes of confused customers looking at the both of you.

“Fine, fucking do it yourself then.” You shoved the box into his hands. Walking off, pissed off as you threw off your hat onto the counter.

George murmured your name as you walked by, trying to put a hand on your shoulder, you shoved out his grasp.

You hid away in the back stockroom. George followed, entering a tiny bit after you.

You sat on a wooden box, leaned over with your head in your hands. 

“You know he doesn’t mean it. He got blasted pretty hard, it’s just one of the side effects.” George sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You were so tired of those two words. Side effects. Yes, of course you knew what the side effects and symptoms were, that they wouldn’t be pretty or easy. But you were just so sick of hearing it.

You shrugged, lifting your head up.

“He's frustrated. With himself.” George sat down next to you, intertwining his hands into a ball. “He always feels bad after he gets angry.”

“I know, and I’m trying my best to help him out but it’s like he never fucking wants it. He refuses.”

“He’s never liked help, always wanting to be so damn independent and stubborn.” George let out a weak chuckle and shook his head. “It took him five minutes to accept the money Harry gave us. Even after that he tried to tell Harry he’d give it back if he changed his mind.”

“I remember, I was there.” You smiled a bit to yourself at the memory, Fred was so adamant about Harry keeping the money, or at least most of it.

“Chocolate?” He pulled a small bar off one of the shelves, you shook your head. “It’ll make you feel better.” You persuaded, you let out an amused sigh and took it.

“You stole that line from Lupin.” Unwrapping it and biting off a small chunk.

“Yeah, but it works doesn’t it?” You let out a defeated nod and smile in response, taking another bite.

“He’s not gonna be like this forever. You know that. He’s gotten a lot better since May. Just, his moodiness will stick around for a little bit.”

“I know. I’m just so worried about him. I can’t help it.”

George was at Angelinas for the night. It took him ten minutes to stop worrying and finally go, constantly reminding you if you needed his help with Fred, if Fred starts getting mean, to send him an owl and he’d come back immediately. You shooed him off and assured him Fred and you would be fine, that he should go have a worry-free night with Angelina.

It was going well, you watched a short movie and shared some snacks and cuddles on the couch. It was all going so nicely until you both decided to get changed and go to bed.

You slipped on a night shirt talking to Fred about the movie as he opened the top drawer on the wooden dresser. The one that creaked and occasionally jammed from time to time. 

Tonight was one of those times.

He pulled out a pair of pajama pants from the drawer, his eyebrows knitting together when he pushed the drawer and it barely moved. You looked over and frowned disappointedly.

“It’s stuck again.” You sighed, thinking out loud. 

“I know.” Fred muttered out under his breath, you didn’t catch it.

You watched as he repeatedly tried to push it, it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s just old, maybe tomorrow we could go window shopping for a new one?” You suggested sweetly as he didn’t respond, he just clenched his jaw as he continued trying to close it.

He used a terrifying amount of force as he slammed the drawer shut with one last push, causing the whole thing to ratter. The sudden movement and sound made you jump. You took a step back, Fred noticed. His expression faltered for a moment as his eyes scanned your body language.

“What, are you scared of me or something now?” He muttered, an attitude in his voice.

“No, I never said I was scared of you. You just…”

 “What? I’ve just what?” 

You were so sick of his attitude. You took in a deep breath before speaking.

“You’ve been acting up, you’ve been slamming doors, throwing things down when you’re frustrated, you yell more. At George and I especially. You’re unpredictable.” You let out quickly.

“Unpredictable? I have not been that bad. You’re dramatic.” Fred shot back, he was a bit hurt by your words, yet deep down he knew you were right. His actions had become surprising. But he was too damn stubborn and he was in the middle of a beginning argument, so he wouldn’t admit to it now.

“I’m not, you’re proving your point with how you’re being now. You’re being stubborn and defensive. You get angry and you yell at me. When I’m just trying to help! The doctors said-”

“I don’t give a shit what the fucking doctors told you! Or those stupid books you’ve been wasting your time on!” All this yelling hurt his head. But the words were spilling out his mouth like a waterfall of poison. 

“Have you considered your not being any help? If you really wanted to help you’d let me do shit myself instead of acting like I’m fucking stupid! You wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around me! You’d let me be instead of being a pounding in my head!” His chest heaved, his face slowly being filled with regret as he saw you. Taking a step back with the most painful stare at him, astonishment and hurt written all over your face.

He watched as you brought your arms up around you, holding yourself as if it was a way of shielding yourself from his words.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Your voice went soft. A small crack in your delivery of words as you rubbed your upper arm.

“No! Absolutely not! I just- I’m-” Here comes the sputtered out apologies, the regret filling him up immediately, you just shook your head.

“Forget it, I’m done with this conversation.” You barged out the room. That look never leaving your face, it will haunt him forever.

“Where are you going? I thought you were going to bed?” He called out as you went down the hallway.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” You shouted back, more of a loud mutter really. Fred said your name disappointedly, leaning against the bedroom door frame. You didn’t respond, you didn’t turn around, you made your way to the couch.

He didn’t run after and stop you. Knowing you’d give him the silent treatment and refuse to get in the same bed as him. For tonight only. Hopefully.

Though you tried to muffle and hide your sobs behind your hands, Fred could still hear it all the way from the bedroom. Those pained sharp breaths in that turned into wheezes, the little hiccups and whimpers of sadness you made when you breathed out were far too loud to be hidden.

You cried for two hours until you finally got a grip of yourself. Getting up and going down the hallway, not to get back in bed, but to see if Fred was.

You peeked your head in just enough to see his side of the bed, he was laying on his back peacefully, his eyes puffy. Had he been crying also?

He was relaxed now though, resting. At least he was getting some sleep. You quietly sneaked back to the living room. Lying back down on the couch and using a throw pillow for your head. 

You couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t keep your eyes shut, couldn’t stop thinking, you couldn’t sleep. You missed him, you really just wanted to be next to him.

By the time the clock ticked to 2AM, you got up, tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Sneaking to your side of the bed, so carefully pulling back the sheets. You moved so carefully, so lightly, so gently as if everything was made of fine china. 

You debated if you should snuggle up to Fred, not wanting to wake him. What if he got annoyed again? You really didn’t want to deal with another conflict.

You carefully scooted over to him anyways, testing your luck. You slowly wrapped your arm around his torso, ever so lightly laying your head on his chest. He began to move and your body immediately tensed up.

His arm hooked around you, circling your waist, the other arm reaching over, his hand softly placed on the side of your head. Your body went limp in happiness. You could start crying again from all the joy you felt in this moment.

This is how you knew Fred hadn’t become a whole other person than the one you knew before the accident. His hands on you, holding onto you so sweetly, just like he used to. There were still those little remnants of his true self hanging around. He was still Fred. He was still your Fred.

You woke up to an empty bed. The sunlight shining down on Freds side of the mattress.

You changed into more presentable clothes, hearing the chatter from downstairs and knowing the shop was open. 

Going downstairs, Fred was nowhere to be seen while George was moving around helping customers and constantly casting spells to organize things.

Owning a joke shop was absolutely not a one man job.

“Where’s Fred?” You asked, looking around as you approached the counter. George was stacking cards. 

“In his office. Another migraine.” He tucked in his lips, seemingly annoyed.

“Oh. Well, I’m gonna go out, probably window shop. Do you need anything?”

“Could you get some cabbage? And a few more quills and ink? We’re running low.” He said, swiveling his way out from behind the counter.

You may have stayed out longer than you meant to.

Thinking you’d be back before five, you got home at nearly eight instead.

You did some looking around in local furniture shops, and you picked up what George asked for. You mostly just walked around the quieter streets, needing to get away from all the noise.

By the time you got back it was a bit dark outside and there was a closed sign on the shop door. You unlocked and locked it quickly, moving upstairs tiredly.

The living room light was turned off, the moonlight from outside being the only thing that made the room somewhat visible. Fred was sitting on the couch.

“Hey.” You spoke softly. 

“Hi.”

“Where’d George go?”

“He stopped by Angelina’s for dinner.” He said blankly. Everything felt so awkward.

“Oh. Have you eaten?” You asked as you set down the bags of supplies.

“Yeah, I had some leftovers.”

“Okay, well, what’re you doing in the dark? Get some light in here.” You giggled as you flipped up the light switch, overhead light brightening up the room.

Fred quickly scrunched his eyes closed with a pained expression, he put a hand up to shadow his face.

Fuck. Light sensitivity. He was already dealing with a migraine, that’s why he was in the dark, and you turning on the light made it much more intense.

“Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You blurted out as you hit the switch down, the room going darker again.

“Here, I’ll- I’ll get you a glass of water.” You sputtered out, running over to the kitchen sink and grabbing a glass, filling it up with cold water from the tap.

“No, you don’t have to.” Fred muttered out.

“Please, it’ll help. Just let me help.” You pleaded as you ran back over to the couch, sitting down and holding the glass towards him. He denied it again.

“Fred, just drink-“

“I told you! No!” He shouted, pushing your hand away.

The glass slipped out of your grasp. Hitting the floor and cracked into pieces, somewhere in the impact a small shard hit your lower leg. Nothing serious, it could be quickly closed up with a spell, but it was bleeding heavily already.

Fred realized what had happened once you felt the stung and winced, holding a hand over your small injury, crimson staining your hand and dripping onto your sock.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He panicked as he straightened up, patting his sides for his wand, he had left it in his office. He saw yours on the coffee table.

“Here, let me fix-” He reached one hand towards your wand, the other laying on your shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s fine, I’ve got it.” You said as you reached across, grabbing your wand and leaned your shoulder away from his touch.

His stomach twisted, the guilt was eating him up. He fidgeted with his fingers, not knowing what to do with his hands now that you refused his touch and his help.

You said a quick spell, the cut swiftly closing, skin looking unharmed and the only evidence of what happened being the remnants of drying blood on your leg and hand.

“I’m gonna go wash off my hands.” You said so quietly, almost a whisper. Fred stayed silent as he watched you get up and walk away, he wanted to cry.

You returned to the living room with a packed suitcase, quickly walking past Fred on the couch and to the chimney. His eyes stayed glued on you the entire time. You didn’t look at him.

“You’re leaving?” Freds brows knit together in a sad way, he sat up straight from his spot on the couch.

“Yeah. Not for long. I’ll be back.” You spoke, back facing him as you put down your small suitcase.

“Where?”

“A friends place. For a few days.” You didn’t tell him who, he would most likely send letters apologizing.

George was the one who suggested it surprisingly. Once he came home as you were washing off the blood, he told you to go take a few days to yourself.

“No offense to you, you’ve been doing great. But I’ve lived with him for nearly twenty-six years. I know how to deal with him when he’s mad.” He held your shoulders.

“I know how to deal with him too, you know.” 

“Of course I do. But I know you’re worn out as well. You need to take some care of yourself. Focus on you for a few days.” You really didn’t want to agree with George on that, it felt rude to do it. There was really no good way of saying he was wearing you down.

“I’m sorry.” Fred spoke out.

“I know, Fred.” You let out a heavy breath. “I’m not mad at you. I think we should take a break from each other.” You tried not to let your voice wobble.

“You don’t mean a break up, right?” He stood up from the couch.

“No. Of course not.” You finally turned around, looking at his gloomy face. “We just need to spend some time apart, just for a day or so. Okay?” You kept your voice soft and nurturing, hoping it would hide the way your own words were breaking your heart.

"Can I just get a hug before you leave? Please?" Fred took a few steps closer, his steps cautious. You closed your eyes and nodded.

You didn’t want to look at him for too long, both of your faces were threatening to deteriorate into tears, and you couldn’t stand to see it.

He pulled you into him nicely, hands slowly and carefully wrapping around you like you would crack if he moved the wrong way.

“I’m sorry I’m like this. I love you.” He said softly, sounding like it was a plea for you to stay.

“I know.” You mumbled into his chest.

Fred’s injury didn’t bother you. The forgetfulness of struggles with certain things didn’t bother you, you didn’t care if he struggled to keep track with things. 

It was just his anger. His outbursts. His shouting. That’s what bothered you, it was nothing like him. Sure, he’s definitely gotten moody or stubborn or annoyed before like during Quidditch matches back at Hogwarts or when a much needed shipment arrived late at the shop.

But you’ve rarely seen him truly mad, yell like he does now, the only time you can remember him like that is when he had to be held back from helping George and Harry beat up Malfoy after a match in his seventh year.

“I still love him, of fucking course I do. But he’s changed so much. it’s like,” You stopped, clenching your jaw and trying your best trying to keep tears from returning. “It’s like sometimes I look at him, and he’s a ghost, he’s a completely different man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“You’ve changed too.” Alicia commented, “You’re not as much of a hermit as you used to be.” She joked, poking you.

“Oh piss off.” You let out a breathy chuckle, face falling soon after. “I’m scared. What if he stays like this forever?” You whispered out, a small crack in your voice.

“He won’t. You told me already, there’s still that cheeky little Fred that you’ve always know still in him. He’s getting better day by day.” She tilted her head. “And fuck it. Even if he doesn’t, even if it takes a while, you gotta grow with him.” You looked at her, puzzled expression on your face.

“If you don’t grow with him, if you aren’t willing to go through that, then what in the hell are you doing?” She shrugged, laying back in her chair. “You’ve gone through these shitty times with him before, right? And you both made it through. What makes you worried you won’t be able to do it again?” 

Alicia was right. You’ve gone through rough patches with him and made it out just fine. Casual disagreements, arguments and fights, yet you always made up. Leaving those arguments in the past and loving each other in the present.

“You staying another night?” Alicia asked you, taking a sip from her glass.

“No, I think I’ll go back. I’ll send an owl and tell them before I go.”

Once the green flames subsided and you stepped out of the chimney, dusting off your clothes. Fred came running into the room, a bouquet of all the flowers in his hand.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Feeling alright today?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

God, you hated the awkward tension in the air. It felt like this every time you had a conversation.

“That’s good. Uh, these are for you.” He stuck out the bouquet nervously, hand trembling. You put down your suitcase and stepped closer. A small noise of adoration left as you looked at the flowers, it was all your favorites.

“I may not be able to remember much. But I remembered these were always your favorite.” He let out an awkward laugh.

The last time you told him what flowers you liked was in year five. You took the bouquet from him with hesitant hands, surprised by the gift. Fred swallowed his anxiety before he began to speak again.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. I just get so frustrated with myself, I don’t want to act like that anymore. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you, you didn’t deserve it.” He moved to cup his hands around your face, bringing your teary eyes to meet his.

“I promise you I’m going to be better. I swear on everything. I will be better.” He gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead, then pulled you into a hug. 

You held on tightly to his torso, turning the flowers away to keep them from being crushed.

“I love you.” You said into his sweater, tears beginning to fall.

“I love you too. So much.”

tell me what you thought! <3

[evalevaeva]

amazing

all's fair in love and war (2)

oliver wood x female!reader

wc: 7.87k

warnings: enemies to lovers, still so damn much pining, set in poa, timeline is a bit wonky, limited use of y/n, archie being my fav oc, cheese fest

an: literally fell asleep on my laptop last night editing this, i was so exhausted from school so i’m sorry it’s late !!! but i had the most fun in the world writing this and i hope everyone enjoys :)) don't forget to comment and repost your favourite writers

summary: Oliver is still impossibly miserable, maybe more uncooperative than before, except now when you look at him: you can't think of much else beyond how sweet his lips tasted.

part one

You can’t sleep.

You're not sure you'll find sleep ever again.

“I knew it, I knew it—“ Cherry had bounced the whole way to your dormitory, howling into your ear. “I knew it!”

The image of Oliver’s fluttering eyes swum around your brain as you blinked into the darkness of the poster bed. The taste of his tongue and his words still right against your lips.

It was a riddle of a calibre that you can’t seem to detangle. More than anything, you try to remember how strong has he tasted of Firewhisky - was he so drunk to really dismiss it to nothing at all?

You lingered on it all weekend.

Cherry didn’t help at all — he’s been in love with you forever, that’s literally so obvious — and Enzo even less so once he’d been filled in: Oliver doesn’t seem a bloke who let’s alcohol make his decisions for him, something about Scottish genetics I think.

The interaction plagued you: digging a wide hole in the base of your stomach. You mourned the thought that you may never have the opportunity to kiss those soft lips again, more than anything: preparing yourself for the feud between yourselves to worsen.

There’s barely enough time to make sense of your situation before you’re racing down over the grassy hills of the grounds, bag swinging violently over your shoulder and extraordinarily late for your Herbology lesson in the greenhouse.

Your morning alarm had rung right into one ear and out the other, a product of the tossing and turning you’d been doing for the last two nights.

When you swing the greenhouse door open, panting and face flush from the beating sun, the whole room turns to you. Sprout pauses where her hands are flailing in explanation.

“Sorry I’m late professor,” you wheeze, readjusting your strap over your shoulder.

Cherry is smirking at you from her bench, sidled up with Jane Emmet.

It hadn’t escaped you that you’d be sharing the lesson with the Gryffindors, but you’d precious little time to worry about it in the five minutes you had to pull a robe over your head and stick a toothbrush into your mouth.

Your eyes are purposeful in not looking over the room. Scared to catch the wrong eyes.

“Not a problem peach, we’re just repotting some Fire-Seed Bushes.” She brings a stubby hand to her chin, “uhm … well, Mr Kumar there in the corner doesn’t have a partner. Go join him by his pots.”

Archie has a lopsided smile on his face when you approach, a thick black curl drooping over his left eye.

“Hey.” He nudges gently.

You set your bag down and grab a pair of gloves, chuckling. “Hey Archie.”

The soil is warm when you stick your fingers into the dirt, shifting it gently enough not to mess over the edge of the bucket. There’s a Fire-Seed Bush sitting tentatively at the end of the bench, spitting sparks and emitting smoke.

“So …” Archie speaks first, the back of his hand bumping yours between the black soil. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a veiled question, a poorly veiled one at that. The question draws a laugh from the base of your stomach.

You shrug, adamant on missing the point. “It was alright, I guess. How about yours?”

He shrugs right back. “Wasn’t the greatest. Penelope Clearwater rejected me for Percy Weasley.”

You don't mean to, you really don't, but it draws another bout of laughter out of you - you clap your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry—“

“No, I get it. Percy bloody Weasley?” His brow is creased, dirt-stained hands rising messily from the soil to swipe at a fallen piece of hair in his face. “Dead sure that bloke's own mother can't say he’s handsome. I’m better looking than him, surely?”

There’s the hanging insinuation that it was rhetorical, but you reply anyways: “you’re definitely more handsome than Percy Weasley, Archie.”

His head cocks down at you, stained paws finding his waist and pressing black fingerprints into the red jumper. “You really think so?”

“Without a doubt.”

Archie smiles, bumping your side against his. You think he might be blushing. “You’re very charming. I understand what Oliver sees in you.”

You jolt involuntarily, spilling some black soil over the edge of the pot.

Swiping at the mess lazily, you play the comment off with another crumbly chuckle: hoping it convinces him more than it does yourself. “Oliver sees in me what a bull sees in a red cape.”

Archie’s reaching timidly for the Fire-Seed Bush, lifting it off the counter and holding the dangerous botanical at arm’s length. “Not true. The boy’s half in love with you.”

This conversation is getting awfully uncomfortable awfully quickly. It picks at your curiosity nonetheless.

“He said that?”

He’s quick to shake off the question, eyes still trained on setting the roots of the bush into the gap in the soil. “Oliver doesn’t have to say anything. He spends practically every fucking mealtime mooning over at your table, and he talks about you way more than necessary—“

“That’s just because I work on his nerves. Oliver doesn’t love me, he barely tolerates me.”

The boy turns on you, confusion set in his brow. “Why is this news? Last I saw you, your tongue was halfway into his stomach.”

Zachariah Smith and his Gryffindor partner look up at that. Your face goes hot all over - Archie doesn’t seem to notice.

“We were drunk.” You say softly, eyes stuck on a loose leaf crackling against the wooden counter.

There’s a special kind of fear that's crawling into your heart where you stand. The fear of putting too much faith into the words of Archie Kumar.

That it’s an elaborate ruse. A set-up, canons of confetti and a banner screaming “you’ve been fooled!” if you were to indulge his words. The danger of allowing your mind to drift too far off into the possibilities of a world wherein Oliver Wood doesn’t hate you - at least not as much as he lets on.

Archie looks at you out the side of his eye, you can feel it, but says nothing. He hands you a miniature yellow-handled spade.

Instead you fill the space. "I heard Isla Flynn has a crush on you."

He perks: "really?"

Across the room, Oliver is bumping elbows with Poppy Davis.

"Ow!"

A loose spark has evidently landed on her exposed arm. The sparks that Oliver was supposed to be watching for, the ones that he is intent on ignoring with the constant glancing back over his shoulder to where you and his best mate are in the corner of the room fucking giggling at each other like toddlers with a box of matches.

“Oliver — can you just focus for five seconds!” Poppy isn’t impressed.

Oliver isn’t either, with the situation as a whole. The pads of his fingers are blistered from the repotting of the bush and Poppy’s careless bumps and his general indifference to the task at hand.

It eats at his brain. What are you guys talking about? Is it about him?

You laugh again and it’s loud enough that it draws his shoulders all the way taut. There’s another snap of a spark and Oliver feels where it lands at his wrist, but he doesn’t react.

“Just pass me the bloody spade.” He grumbles.

-

The lesson passes more slowly than Oliver could swim shoulder-deep through molasses.

It feels like years later when he tosses his gloves into the box with the rest, when the class shuffles to return tools and begin slinging half-open bags over their shoulders.

Oliver doesn’t think he’s ever packed up faster - Poppy is still scowling at him, he doesn’t care - before he’s knocking through yellow and red tied students to find Archie’s head of curly black hair.

“Hey!” He catches him by the wrist, tugging on it like a dog with a bone. Archie jumps, eyes winding down to find his friend. “What did she say?”

You’re far ahead, Oliver can make out the back of your head: hips bumping with Cherry’s up the hill towards the castle.

Archie grins. “She said Isla Flynn has a crush on me.”

Oliver groans, “Not about that, you prat. About— wait, really?”

"Yeah!" He hikes his bag higher on his shoulder. "Can you believe it? She's got that hot Irish accent and everything."

Oliver nods, "Yeah ... yeah. Good on you, mate."

He's trying desperately not to steal this moment from his best friend, but he's fucking itching to know what else you and Archie had been giggling about.

"Did she ... say anything else?" He presses, more gently than his character usually allows. "Like about me?"

Archie shrugs without looking down. "I asked her, but she seemed tense about the whole thing."

"Tense?"

"Yeah, she said something about a bull and a cape, and went like all quiet when I told her you like her--"

At that, Oliver's stomach leaps up into his throat. He grabs his best friend by the arm, jolting him to a short stop. Some Hufflepuff bumps into their halted figures, grumbling before shuffling around them.

"You told her what?" His eyes flare erratically.

Archie shrugs, an innocuously confused look painting his features. "Well I said Oliver's half in love with you, or something like that and she looked all confused about it--"

Oliver's grip on his friend's wrist tightened to a degree that a ring was sure to form on his dark skin. "You fucking pinhead! You told her I liked her?"

Pulling his arm violently from his grip, Archie has the nerve to look affronted. "You don't?"

The morning sun shining over Oliver's head feels like it's growing hotter by the second, there's a dribble of sweat running down his spine.

"That's -- that's not the point. Even if I do, which I'm not saying is the case, she doesn't need to know that."

"Were you two obliviated in your sleep last night?" Archie's eyebrows are pressed down against his eyes, slouching down to meet his friend's face. "I caught you two making out like the world was ending less than three days ago! Surely she has to figure that you feeling something for her, she's not stupid."

Oliver struggles between his thoughts, worse around his words. "That was ... we'd been drinking. For all I know, she only kissed me back cause she was trollied off Dragon-Barrell--"

"She said that, too."

Eyeing him, Oliver's hands find his hips. "Said what, exactly?"

"That you were drunk, I mentioned the kiss and she said we were drunk."

A sensation he can only identify as closest to guilt seeps up into Oliver's chest from his stomach. "She thinks I kissed her just cause I was drunk?"

Archie's hand finds Oliver's shoulder. "You should probably talk to her, mate."

He sighs, eyes drifting over the silhouette of the castle in the distance. He shakes his head like it'll rattle the plaguing thoughts loose. "We're gonna be late for Transfig."

-

"I mean, Archie is his best friend." Cherry is trying to rationalise the whole story. "I don't see why he'd lie about it?"

You shake your head, knocking shoulders with a Ravenclaw girl trying to pass through the corridor. "I'm not entertaining it, Cherry."

"Come on," she sighs, practically skipping to keep up with the furious pace you've set. "Would it be so terrible if he likes you?"

"Yes." You don't look at her.

The redhead's eye-roll is practically audible, "Let me rephrase, would it be so terrible if he likes you back?"

You meet her eyes for the first time since you'd entered the corridor.

She sighs, "we're gonna see him in Muggle Studies in five minutes. I think you should say something."

"Forget I said anything, Cherry." Heat flares at your neck again, prompted by the embarrassment of even imagining how such a conversation might go.

The rest of the walk is quiet, but you feel Cherry's gaze warming the side of your face.

Burbage's classroom is over-populated with Gryffindors by the time you drop your bag against the marbled floor beside your desk. In the corner of your eye, your brain has already fixated on Oliver's silhouette leaned against the edge of his own desk. You flush hot all over again, as if your thoughts were transcribing into subtitles and floating above your head for the whole class to read.

The click of Burbage's heels prompt the lingering students to find their seats, "Please take out your copies of Muggle Wars: Cause and Effect. We left off on page eighty-seven--"

You suddenly regret snapping at Cherry. Wishing for the comfort of her presence, your eyes glazing over where she's perched in the first row of desks closest to the chalkboard.

Unusually, the class trickles on without disruption. There's a few glances over at your direction, like everyone is waiting for another outburst from the grade's most volatile duo. They're sure to be let down, you're adamant to not even breathe in the direction of Wood.

Burbage comments on it, too, nearly ten minutes from the bell.

"It's suspiciously quiet in your corner today, captains." she looks down through her fingerprint-smudged frames, brushing over you and then Wood three seats away. "Something the matter?"

You shrug, refusing to acknowledge the boy. He seems to be doing the same: completely unfairly, the thought that he wouldn't look at you made the hair on your arms stand straight. "We can start up if you'd like, professor?"

Her face contorts into that irritated look that you'd grown accustomed to when Professor Burbage addresses you. "You're flirting dangerously with another session of detention, miss."

"She's just answering your question, professor."

Nobody in the class seemed more surprised than Burbage, although that in itself was a feat. The two Gryffindor boys in the row ahead of you swivel all the way around in their seats to look at Oliver, who'd just spoken.

You fight the twitching urge to look at him.

"Detention for two, it seems. I'll be seeing you both Friday afternoon."

A calm air settles again over the class, as if order had been restored. You and Wood had lost the interest of the room and students shift back to the board where WHAT IS A PRIME MINISTER? is sprawled across it in chicken-scratch handwriting.

Sighing, your eyes find the clock against the wall. Eight minutes left.

You pick at the end of your quill irritably: electing to dip it into the ink at the edge of the desk and entertain yourself quietly by drawing a miniature snowman at the corner of your page, trying not to think about another Friday afternoon in too close of a proximity to Oliver Wood. There's a soft whir, barely audible if you weren't so focused on outlining pebble eyes, and a tiny paper-airplane whizzes quietly from under your desk: landing squarely on the nose-less head of your snowman.

Fear prickles at you. You don't look up for the source, lest a suspicious sideways glance earns you another weekend with the party-animal Charity Burbage.

Instead, you carefully undo the intricately folded wings of the plane. It's barely big enough to fit into your palm once open, the top of the little note marked in black ink.

It was the same handwriting that marked the sign-out sheet for equipment in the Quidditch storage rooms down at the pitch.

'Thanks for that one, smart-mouth.'

Your eyes flicker up to Burbage, who's back is turned, before you dip your quill into the ink and scribble out a response. In your peripheral, Oliver is leaned back in his stool: biceps folded over each other. There's an unexplainably airy-fairy, fuzzy feeling warming your rib cavity.

'Believe this one was your fault, dickhead.'

You quietly refold the creased edges, before tapping it lightly with the end of your wand: then watch how it takes off the airstrip of your page and zips quietly under the cover of desks to land back in front of the sender.

There's a long pause - enough for Burbage to draw out a whole flow diagram of something called "parliament" - before the edge of the paper wing grazes at your calf again. It lands quietly again.

'Maybe.

We good?'

There's a gentleness to the sentence. Like you can hear it from Oliver's mouth, like he's avoiding your gaze when he whispers it.

You hunch over the note again.

Oliver's knuckles are turning white, twisting his wand in his hands under the table. He shouldn't have said anything. He's regretting the whole fucking idea of the stupid paper-plane now.

He's trying not to watch you write, not to notice how long you stared at his writing before you picked up your own quill. He does anyways.

When the airplane flutters down into his palm, Burbage is already excusing the class. Stools are scraping against cold tile, the clutter of textbooks being crammed back into bags.

'Never :)'

His eyes run over the word once, twice, three times over. A smile is tugging at the edge of his lip, he forces it taut - but his eyes are still shining unusually brightly when Archie knocks his shoulder to his.

"What you looking so damn happy about?"

Oliver tucks the note into the pocket of his robes. "Don’t know what yer talking about."

-

"But professor, why can't Hufflepuff take Saturday?"

"Well, Hufflepuff already gave up our practice days for Gryff--!"

Hooch sighed so deeply she almost melted back into her armchair. "The decision is made, Oliver. The pitch is being cleaned out on Wednesday, your team can take Saturday for any extra training."

He could practically hear the smile creeping onto your face, the smug crossed-arm look he'll no doubt find when he turns to you.

Irritation bubbles up in his throat, a familiar companion in your presence, and just as he prophesied: you are grinning.

In the weeks that followed that day in Burbage's class, it seemed that both parties decided that the topic of their shared kiss outside the Ravenclaw common room was best left undiscussed.

The arrangement is working. At least Oliver thinks so.

You still bait him and he still snaps, rising to your taunts. He still finds himself in detention more Fridays than he spends free, and his body ripples with anger when you roll your eyes at him.

But it was in moments, like this now, where your little self-satisfied grin doesn't quite vex him to the degree it once did. It's now harder to find a retort, to snap at you with a sharp-edged comment. Not when amusement crinkles at the corners of your eyes where your black lashes kiss so prettily.

Hooch swivels in her chair to find a document between one of her cluttered drawers, you take the opportunity to stick the tip of your tongue out childishly at him.

Oliver draws a tight breath, he hopes his face is still taut in annoyance, because his heart has slipped like a stone down into his stomach. That's the other issue, the tiny little obstacle in these recent weeks: he can't stop looking at your mouth. It's distracting, disarming - paralysing at the best of times.

He strips his gaze away, before he can be outed by anyone in the room. "Whatever." He mumbles.

You seem disappointed in his lack of a real response, but it passes quickly - like a shadow - over your face.

"Thanks professor." You grab up your roster from her desk and turn to the door, practically skipping out into the corridor.

He huffs.

Somehow, you and Archie have become fast friends. Mornings around Fire-Seed Bushes and Venomous Tentaculas in the heat of Greenhouse Three seems to do wonders for a friendship.

It prickles at Oliver's nerves when you pass in the corridors, when you perk up with a high "hey Arch!" and he grins down from his towering height right back at you: "hey Y/n!"

You don't look at Oliver. He's notably sour the rest of the walk.

Alright, maybe the whole arrangement wasn't really working. You were a distraction to him before, no doubt, but somehow your powers of beguilement had tripled. Especially since you seem to be behaving perfectly normal: like you hadn't given Oliver the best snog of his life outside the Ravenclaw common room that night.

Maybe it was just alcohol, maybe he is the only one plagued by the knowledge of the other's taste.

The castle has turned impossibly colder, the bitter bite of winter stinging at the loose cuffs of his robes on walkthroughs of the corridors. He can't imagine how cold the air above the pitch is going to be on Sunday when Hufflepuff faces off Slytherin for a spot in the finals.

It's all Hooch has been going on about for the last two weeks.

Oliver's had to shift around at least four practices - Roger almost twice as much, he's a pushover - to allow for you and Marcus to have more time on the pitch. His complaints fell on deaf ears, Hooch dismissed him with a wave of her bony hand and a "your time is coming, Wood."

You prance into dinner late most evenings, hair in every direction and face flush with sweat: sticking it out like a bumblebee in those awful yellow quidditch robes.

Oliver only notices because, annoyingly, he's found that he is frequenting the bench at the Gryffindor table that faces over to the Hufflepuff's. His eyes drift over the yellow-tied heads to where you clump up with Enzo and Cherry, watches you talk around mouthfuls of toast lazily, giggle behind your napkin: head rolling back to showcase that smooth neck, how it runs down to the soft slopes of your shoulders: disappearing down into your button-up.

Archie has noticed, he's sure, but hasn't done more but allude to it with teasing glances or suggestive comments.

"The Hufflepuffs up to something particularly interesting over there, Ollie?"

The speed with which Oliver's eyes snap to his peas is almost comical. He shrugs and mumbles like a child. "Don't know."

-

On Sunday morning, you don't go to breakfast.

There's an uncomfortable gurgling in your midriff, like a snake is slithering between your organs and you're sure even just the smell of eggs on toast would bring up your dinner.

Instead you find yourself at the pitch a whole hour before the game is set to start. Marcus is running laps around the grass, something he's done since you've known him.

He offers a curt wave, face set like cold stone.

It reminds you of Oliver a little bit, the distraction in his eyes.

Oliver is never all the way there, wherever he is, you think. His eyes mist over like he's halfway between this world and another. You know it's Quidditch: he dreams it, eats it, sleeps it.

But lately he's foggier than usual.

You think it's your imagination, brush off the idea as you have all the millions of others you'd had in the preceding weeks about the surly brute that was Oliver Wood. He plagues you.

Just the vibrato of his unimpressed huff when you get your way, when you quip something purposely annoying at him. It's addictive, the feel of his sugar-brown eyes glaring a hole through you.

Lately, his reactions have been closer to underwhelming. Allowing for only a moment of eye contact: gone are the quick-witted retorts, the Scottish-laced "princess" usually attached. The thought makes you wince in embarrassment, knowing that you've been pressing him harder lately: like a seven-year old jabbing at a claw machine, outwardly desperate for that brown plushy on the top of the pile.

Maybe he's over it. So deathly mortified of your shared kiss that he doesn't want to know you anymore, much less take the effort to hate you. Your chest pinches tightly.

You dress into your match robes slowly, taking your time with the loops of your shoelaces and the buttons down the sweater you're wearing underneath everything. Oliver Wood should be at the bottom of your list of priorities, normally, but now more than ever.

The team filters into the change-room, exhibiting varying degrees of nervousness. Cedric is practically green, but Herbert looks like he's about to go down a water-slide he's waited over an hour in line for. Beyond the swinging doors, you can hear the crowd shuffling loudly into their seats.

Before your wits are completely about you, Hooch is rapping on those same doors. "Onto the pitch, Hufflepuffs!"

You muster up your best excuse for a captain's speech for what might be the last match you ever play as one. The team seem satisfied, you figure it's easy to find solace before a game when you know it's not your last. As the only seventh year, comfort doesn't come so easily to you.

The crowd is deafening when yellow robes take to the sky: Marcus looks over, offering another nod, not unlike the one he'd given you earlier. You can tell he's feeling the dread of finality too.

There's a whistle blow and the quaffle flies past your face with a speed that nearly evacuates your nose from your face. Lee is announcing in the distance and the rumble of adrenaline forces your fingers over the handle. It tilts and you dip, disappearing into the sky of players.

-

The winter air at Hogwarts was biting enough roaming the corridors, but thirty metres off the ground is something wholly unnatural. Your face was burning crisp from the icy wind, the feeling in your cheeks and nose lost to the Scottish cold.

Foggy white clouds puff out with each heavy breath. Cedric zooms past and Jane loops around his moving figure to knock a stray bludger in the opposite direction.

Your eyes flash between them and the fast approaching Malcolm, he tosses the quaffle at you with a grunt and you catch it at the tips of slippery, ice-frozen fingertips.

Shooting forward again, you duck under Marcus who is hurtling through the sky at you: gone is the look of friendly fondness from his eyes, replaced with a hunger for the leather-bound ball in your grasp.

Just missing the grasp of his meaty hand, the ball passes onto Heidi.

"Another ten points to Hufflepuff," Lee's voice echoes as if from heaven. "That brings the score to ninety for Hufflepuff and eighty for Slytherin!"

It's been nearly ninety-five minutes of sitting on your broom growing colder, and you're not alone.

Around you, the team is descending into frost-induced exhaustion: Jane's nose is as bright red as a Christmas ornament and Cedric has been peeping over the top of his thick woollen-scarf for at least the last half - barely enough to catch a glance of the whizzing canary and emerald robes, much less of a tiny golden snitch.

You sigh out another white breath, letting your eyes drift over the stands. It's saturated with moving heads of faces you can't make out and yellow and green swaying banners. Your gaze lingers on the top left, in the corner facing the castle. It's where Cherry and Enzo park themselves during every match, where you know they're screaming in support, clenching their teeth at every quaffle handover. You can feel them, even when their faces blur into the crowd.

Unintentionally, you think about how Oliver's mixed in there too. Somewhere between your peers. If you had been granted another moment, if the quaffle wasn't mid-air between two Slytherins just under your nose and you'd not taken the opportunity to snatch it from them, you would have meandered into the trap of hoping that deep down in his chest - even if it was core of the earth deep - he was rooting for you, too. That he seethed at a missed goal or clenched a tight fist at his side in celebration when a Hufflepuff makes a beautiful play.

Meanwhile in the stands, Oliver has decided that the desire to play his allegiances in secret has since disappeared from his heart.

He'd played it light in the first few minutes. Mumbling under his breath at a fumbled pass or a slimy move from the Slytherins, but by the forty-fifth minute he'd found himself on his feet.

"Diggory!" His hands waved in front of him, "it was right there you fucking git--"

A Hufflepuff third year a row ahead looked at him askew, but he paid her no mind.

Archie had taken the hint early. As soon as Oliver was out of his seat, so was he. Despite being Oliver Wood's best friend, Archie had somewhat limited knowledge of the game himself and eyed Oliver's reactions to find the appropriate moments to whoop and cheer. Oliver didn't say anything, but he appreciated it more than he could verbalise.

His eyes tracked you more than anything, when you were flying between players or just floating in place: eyes like a hawk, watching over the game. His heart swelled and his pride fell to the wayside.

Just short of the two hour mark, there was a rise in the crowd.

"The seekers have caught sight of the snitch!"

Oliver's stomach rose into his throat.

"They're diving for it, Malfoy and Diggory head to head-- and Slytherin grabs the snitch, winning by 140 points!"

It sank back into place, like a stone to the bottom of the river. He watched how you froze, how you twisted over your shoulder to find Diggory's figure lingering at the bottom of the field. You shoulders sagged, hanging in the air as the others dropped to the ground.

"Slytherin have made it into the finals against Gryffindor for the quidditch cup, back here at the pitch next month!"

After a long moment, the last in the sky, you followed them down.

The raucous cheers from the Slytherins were hard to drown out, he wasn't even sure Archie heard him toss a "i'll find you at the castle" before he found himself pushing through the masses of people.

He fought against the wave moving to find the stairs, eager to return to the warmth of their dormitories, but Oliver was markedly more motivated than the majority. He stomped on some toes and nearly tossed a first year off the stands to race down the stairs.

Only once his feet had found the mushy grass of the pitch, did he pause to consider that he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say. What was the rush for? To comfort you, tease you for your loss?

The latter option was definitely what he could do, what he could say. What was expected of him, if he was being honest. Recently, however, he's found it harder and harder to come up with remarks to hurt your feelings. Found that he quite prefers that little smile that tucks into the corner of your mouth when he says something unexpectedly fond. How your eyes practically gleam.

There's shoving from all sides of him -- get out the way, bloody hell -- and the teams pass ahead of him. Leading the march, despite it being nothing more than a slow trudge, is your figure: squashed between those of who he recognises to be Cherry Stretton and Enzo Musa's.

Their arms wrapped over your shoulders, talking animatedly into your ear on each side. Enzo tips his head to meet yours, a small touch of comfort.

Oliver sighs. He has nothing to say and no comfort to offer, wondering for a moment what he could possibly bare to hear in his own final moments as captain. He thinks that anything from your mouth would work.

So he waits, parks himself beside the stairs and waits for Archie: watching the six-legged figure disappear up over the hill.

-

You're not at dinner.

He knows because he's been watching the door for the better half of an hour. Archie pushes his plate at him, "Eat something there, Ollie."

Begrudgingly, Oliver brings his drumstick up to his mouth. "She's not eaten a thing since breakfast, it's almost eight."

Archie passes a sympathetic look over him. "Her friends are here, I'm sure she'll be by soon. There's no use you joining her on a hunger-strike."

He's right. Cherry and Enzo and some others that frequent your circle are talking around the table, around the spot that you usually fill. But dinner goes on and students leak steadily out towards bed without your return.

Eventually Oliver huffs, like an irritated bulldog, and grabs for the nearest napkin: unfolding it out in front of him.

"What are you doing?" Archie asks thickly, spitting bits of rice at him.

Oliver reaches for two chicken skewers, placing them neatly on the white square: alongside a dinner roll and a pumpkin pasty.

He wraps them over, double wraps it with another napkin too.

"What does it look like, Arch."

Placing it carefully into the deep pocket of his robe, Oliver goes to stand - lacking the patience it takes for Archie to answer, or for his inevitable teasing. "I'll find you back in our room."

He's halfway out the hall when Archie's voice calls out to him, "You don't even know where she is!"

Oliver shakes his head, brandishing a dismissive hand over his shoulder. "I know where she is." He mumbles for only himself to hear.

-

You’d watched close to twenty-one quidditch matches from the stands at the pitch on Hogwarts grounds: played in almost half of them. 

The seat is still slightly too small, just uncomfortable enough to make a person shuffle. Beyond the rim over the other end of the pitch you can see the orange sun dipping behind the horizon, drawing to darkness over your moment alone.

By now you're sure the party in the common room has long since found momentum. The one you'd been promised by the team, "it's your last game, cap, we need to celebrate!". You're sure someone somewhere is looking for you, bracing a plastic cup of Firewhisky with your name on it, but you can't find it within yourself to face it all just yet.

The silence of the evening is enough, you only wish you'd been fast enough to retrieve your broomstick that's somewhere off with Enzo. Just for one last lap.

The serenity of your loneliness doesn't persevere, however. You can hear shuffling up the steps, you're tempted to look but the sunset is slipping so quickly out of your hands that it's not worth the time wasted.

It's only when the footfalls draw closer, stopping when a body slumps into the seat beside you. The seats are so cramped that his knee brushes yours, the figure long since identified from the corner of your eye.

"Come to gloat?" You ask, eyes never leaving the sky.

He shrugs. "Not today."

You nod. His smell drifts on the breeze under your nose, like peppermint and soap and Oliver.

There's a long silence. Your robes crease against the fist sitting in your lap, you've yet to change out of your quidditch uniform, you know it will be the last time.

"You missed dinner."

"Does it matter?"

Despite your avoidant gaze, Oliver's is warming the side of your face. The evening air cools the same spot.

There's a shuffling that finally draws your eyes. Oliver is still in his robes too, and his hand emerges from a deep pocket with a folded napkin square. "Figured you'd be hungry."

He places it onto your lap with a gentleness you're coming to find more of in him. Something frighteningly warm erupts in your chest and your hands come up to it, pulling apart the napkin to find picky bits inside.

You're fighting between smiling and starting to cry. You do neither.

"You carried this in your pocket the whole way from the hall?"

His eyes flicker between the food and your face before he shrugs. "Yeah."

By now, you were fighting a losing battle and the smile pulled up at the ends of your mouth so tightly that your cheeks started to hurt. "Gross."

You pick up a chicken skewer regardless, biting into it and facing the sky again. You offer him the other one and he looks for a moment like he's going to argue but takes it quietly in the end.

The chicken is tender and only after you'd swallowed the first bit did you realise how hungry you'd actually been. You finish it without a word, going to tear the pasty in half and offering a piece to your companion.

You're picking at the roll now, tearing tiny bits off and feeding it piece by piece to yourself like a bird. "Last game."

He nods. "I know."

"What could someone say to you after your last game, Wood?" You pick at him, eyes flittering between him and the now nearly black sky. "You know, to make you feel better?"

Oliver shakes his head, leaning back and rolling his shoulders: as if the thought itself unsettled him.

"Nothing, probably. I'd probably just walk into the Black Lake and drown myself."

You think he's joking, but with Oliver Wood that was hardly a sure thing.

"You wouldn't."

"What's there left to live for?" He says it with an airy chuckle.

Shrugging, your head falls against your shoulder. "You'd have to figure it out, because I'd go marching in right after you. Carry you out if I had to."

Oliver stills, eyes wide and blinking at you. Your chest goes tight, the ghost of a smile pressing at your face.

"Bridal style and everything ..." You add quietly, stifling your chuckle.

He seems to come back to himself, nodding. "We should get back. Been a long day."

The napkin crumples in your hand, shoved down into the depths of your own pocket. You walk ahead, the pathway to the steps is only narrow enough for one person at a time, and he trails behind.

By the time you've hit the steps, Oliver moving down beside you, you're brewing around an apology. A way to thin the air, to ease where your chest is tight: swirling around well done, now you've made things awkward you git. It's halfway up to your tongue when skin brushes against the back of your hand.

Warm fingers explore your knuckles to find your cool ones, slipping to knot between them.

You work not to look down, because Oliver's skittish like that. From the corner of your eye, you can see he's concentrating his gaze ahead.

His hand tightens against yours, palm callous from years wrapped around the wooden handle of his broomstick. It's a little sweaty and sticky but you're smiling so hard you're about to be sick.

You dare to look at him, Oliver's smiling too.

-

Oliver hasn't been sleeping.

His last few days of seventh year are slipping like water through his calloused hands and he can feel it. Every hour that passes, shadowy and fleeting.

Classes feel shorter than before, the terrible jokes Archie bombards him with over dinner sound funnier than he ever remembers them being and the glimpses he catches of you in the corridor never feel long enough. The ceiling of his poster bed flashes with moments of the day that's passed, feeling like a dream you'll be jolted out of as soon as it gets good.

Even over all his hours of broody contemplation, none of it makes the final whistle any easier to swallow. It hits him like he's been smacked with a bludger in the chest.

"Gryffindor has won the quidditch cup, two-hundred and thirty points to twenty!"

He can hear the crowd's roar, the whoops of the twins floating somewhere below him. Harry's standing on the grass of the pitch holding up his tiny golden trophy. The pitch is red all over: Oliver won.

He won.

Every moment building up over the last seven years culminated into the final blow of the whistle. The wind is whipping at the hair over his forehead: Oliver thinks this might be the happiest moment of his life, but he's not entirely sure.

He never realised that it would all be so fucking soaked in sadness.

It's over. He's leaving the castle empty handed. His engraving will live on the Quidditch Cup in a dusty cupboard for years to come, yes, and he might have a frame up in his future apartment somewhere, reminiscing on the old days. That's all.

He's struck with the devastating fear that in a few short years, nobody will remember him. More than anything, he can't believe he hadn't come to this overwhelming conclusion before right now. Before Angelina is yelling to him, waving a frantic hand and sporting the biggest grin in all of Scotland, before he was seconds from taking the prize he's held in his mind for so many years into his very hands.

Will you forget him?

It nearly knocks him off his broom. He finds that it scares him the most, more than the thought of the dust-caked trophy or the lonely corner at the back of his cupboard where his Hogwarts robes will no doubt live until eternity.

He won't forget you, he thinks. He knows.

You're just so damn annoying. And beautiful, fucking whip-clever and hilarious sometimes--

The handle of his broom is tilting down to the earth now, the crowd zooming into a blur on either side of him. He hits a shaky landing, broomstick abandoned on the grass behind him as he's pulled into the arms of his team and well-wishers.

A golden trophy passes over the heads of the twins and it's shoved into his sweating hands. It's cool to the touch and so much heavier than he thought it ever could be, but he can't seem to keep his mind on the situation long enough to realise any of that. His mind is racing around the castle wondering where you might be and what's the fastest way to get there.

His eyes are racing over the heads of the roving crowd. "Wood, Wood! Speech!"

Shadowing over everyone is Archie's tall figure standing at the back, grinning down at him. The team watches expectantly.

This is it. The moment for the speech he's been practicing in his bathroom mirror since he was seven.

"I--" he looks down at the cup for the first time, his face reflecting up at him in glimmering gold. He finds he can't remember any of the words. "I need to go find someone."

There's a buzz of confusion, but Oliver doesn't linger: shoving the Quidditch Cup into Harry's arms.

"That's the shortest speech Wood has ever given." He hears Angelina quip, but he can't be arsed to turn. He's already flying, moving through the crowd at such a pace he might just have been on his broom.

The sea of students had long since started moving up to the castle, particularly the non-gryffindors: trying to beat the stampede of scarlet that is no doubt to come. Oliver's legs carry him over the smooth green hill up towards Hogwarts, head craning over students to find your side profile somewhere in the mass.

He catches few oy, watch it!'s and congrats, Wood!'s but he doesn't turn, doesn't stop running. Students bespeckle the grass like ants lining up for crumbs, and he's all the way up into the stone corridor leading to the Great Hall when he spots Cherry's velvet red curls over the crowd, and sure enough, he finds you're knocking her shoulder with your own.

It only takes one shout of your name and you turn to peek curiously back, by which time he's taken both your shoulders into his hands and steered you to the wall of the corridor.

"Wood! What are you do--"

His hands squeeze around the plush at your upper arms. "Oliver. My name is Oliver."

Your eyes are wide in surprise, the window behind you showcases the gardens and the pitch in the distance. Sunlight forms a halo over the crown of your head.

With a head tilted in confusion, you nod slowly. "Alright ... what are you doing, Oliver?"

He can feel the eyes of Cherry and Enzo burning a hole through the side of his head, but doesn't bother with it. You're blinking up at him, gentle and benign in your features. He wonders when it became like this, when you'd lost the tight brow and the frown every time you looked at him.

"I won the Quidditch Cup." He says blankly.

You nod, a small smile tucked into the corner of your lip. "I saw. Congratulations."

Oliver only nods back at you. "I wanted to tell you. I wanted to come shove it in your face."

He's shuffling closer to your figure, and he's more than pleased to discover that you aren't cowering from it.

"Of course you did, because you're a prat." But you're smiling so hard now that it's impossible to take your jab to heart. "Is that all, Oliver?"

A warm sensation is spilling into his rib cavity and his fingertips are buzzing with electricity when they come to find either side of your face.

"No." His forehead is nearly touching yours and your hands have wrapped around his wrists. "I came to ask you out on a date. A sappy, disgustingly romantic date where I bring you flowers and pay for your hot chocolate. You'd hate it."

"That truly sounds horrible." Your smile is so wide he can barely see the whites of your eyes and it pumps more adrenaline through Oliver than any argument you'd ever shared over the last seven years.

"So, is that a yes?"

You're bouncing on your toes a little bit, bumping your nose against Oliver's clumsily. The babble of passing students and gawking onlookers has practically fallen mute to him.

"Depends, are you going to kiss me goodnight after?" You whisper it, like it's a secret between just you and him.

He nods slowly, "pretty desperate to kiss you right now, if I'm being honest princess--"

You don't wait for him to finish, thank Merlin you don't wait for him to finish, and push up onto your toes: crashing against his mouth. You're kiss is as dizzying as he remembers, but softer this time. You kiss like you know he's not running away, hands pressing softly over his neck.

It's nothing like your kiss outside the Ravenclaw common room: where that one was desperate and hot and angry, this time it's born from longing and tenderness and acceptance.

It leaves him just as fucking breathless as the first time.

Somewhere behind him, he hears wolf-whistling (he's sure it's Cherry) and when you pull your lips off his, your face is flush with embarrassment.

"I will go on a date with you, Oliver."

He takes your hand into his, curling his fingers between your own. You lean up to peck him softly and bat your eyelashes at him, grinning innocuously when you whisper: "If you treat me like you did with Delilah, I'm throwing your broomstick into the fireplace."

-

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[evalevaeva]

sometimes i reread my books to see what type of writer i was

[evalevaeva]

It's my 7 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

WHAT

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this is literally me

based on a conversation with @fynn-arcana

not my drawings, my edit

[evalevaeva]

In the future | Yeon Sieun

- in which sieun assumes you'll understand in the future.

"You'll understand in the future, why I'm doing this and I never ask you to go out with me, and especially, why I always say after the college entrance exams," Sieun said as you stared at him, feeling the familiar squeeze in your heart.

It was like this every time, and slowly, you feel like you don't understand him anymore. It felt like you were in a dark room, with the one person who could save 6 it was all a blur. You could see his face, stoic as ever. Always refusing to show even a glimpse of what he felt, just for the sake of 'not being pessimistic'. It hurt. It hurt being one of the people he was supposed to lean on for support, but you just felt like another passerby in his life. He was almost indifferent to you.

It was always about the future, what about the present? The current moment that you were in, with him. It's always the same reason over and over again, "After the college entrance exams".

You would be lying if you didn't envy your friends. Seeing them with their partners, spending even 30 minutes sounded like a luxury. To sit down and have a conversation after a hard day at school, or even a phone call seemed like a million dollar dream that you wouldn't be reaching anytime soon with Sieun.

"Why not now?" Your voice was weak, but Sieun definitely heard it as his eyes were stuck onto your eyes that were beginning to water. You sighed as you lowered your head and wiped the tears with the sleeves of your jacket. This wasn't the time to cry, definitely not infront of him.

It sounded crazy. You didn't even feel like you could shed tears in front of him because it felt like he would tell you you're being sad over nothing, or he'd simply say the same statement;

"You'll understand in the future".

"Stop repeating it, Yeon Sieun."

Your voice was harsher than it should've been, but the pent-up anger was spilling out, and if you couldn't catch it, it would spill, and he'd know. Even so, even if he did know, would he do anything?

He spoke about the future the both of you would share. A house with nice decorations, a house with five children running around, and he'd have a good job and spend his breaks at home. He'd have to leave, but he'd constantly text and send gifts for the children's milestones. He'd miss their milestones, but he'd always come back to spend breaks with you and the kids.

He would bring you to places you'd never been to, and the both of you would grow old, and you'd take care of each other.

It felt like a sick joke that you were living through daily. He treated you like you were some fragile piece of ceramic that would fall and shatter at any time, but all you wanted were answers.

You could barely focus on your examinations anymore, feeling the pain crawl up your spine everyday as you stared at the papers given in class.

"Repeating what? That you'll understand in the future?" Sieun asked as you looked up at him, feeling your hands turn into a fist as you held the hem of your skirt in your fist.

"Why can't you tell me anything? You feel like an absolute stranger to me now. You don't want to talk to me in school nor interact with me in school because you're so worried about what other people have to say. Are you shamed of me? You don't want to call, you don't even ask me to call anymore. It's always me making an effort, what about you? Why is it always me? I give up, I'm so tired, Sieun. I want you to make an effort too, to call me 'just because', to walk with me to the bus station 'just because', instead of treating me like the last option and seeing me as someone you'll only put effort in after examinations. I'm hurt too, Sieun. I have feelings too, Sieun." By this point, your face was covered in tears as they fell down your cheek, hot. You still couldn't get close to him, still only being able to say everything from a distance. An arm's length at most.

"We have all the time in the world to do all the things you want to do. Why are you in such a rush?" Sieun questioned, seriously not understanding why you were so upset over such a minor thing.

You let out an exhasperated sigh as you wiped your tears. He would never understand. He treated you like a child that would never understand the world, and you would never get the answers you wanted, even if you begged the Lord above to help you.

"Nevemind. Whatever." You stated, as you turned and got ready to leave.

"Why nevermind? Are you mad again?" Sieun asked as he walked forward to reach out to you.

"I don't know, Sieun, you'll understand soon."

-

i don't know, will i ever understand?

[evalevaeva]

If he wanted to, he would | yeon sieun

-"to be loved, is to be seen"

The promotional advertisement on your phone screen reflected into the pupils of your eyes as you skipped down the hallway to class 1 at the end of the corridor.

You slid the door with a thud as several students looked at you but paid no attention as you skipped over to the desk next to Sieun, your lover, as rested your chin onto your palms.

"Sieun, there's a promotion at Sooho's workplace for frozen beef rolls, you said that we could go this week, right?" You asked the stone-faced boy as he tapped on his earpieces once, muting the music, and turned to you with a sigh.

"I can't. I have to study for the mid-terms," Sieun responded as he tapped on his earpieces and continued writing mindlessly onto the paper in front of him.

The smile that was on your face a few seconds ago had dropped into a disappointed look as you got up to leave the class, not sparing the boy another look.

This wasn't the first time. If it had been, maybe you would've let it slide. Twelve times. Twelve times this has happened within the span of two months, and your patience was beginning to break. Excuses after excuses, and it never seemed to end. He never made time for you, and it looked like the future of the relationship was bleak.

You dragged your feet down the hallway as you looked at your phone screen, seeing the texts from your friend, Jinsung, whom you had rejected to go out with due to your prior 'plans' with Sieun.

"The invite is still here! I'm still up for the cafe! Haha, it'll be good to spend time with someone who actually speaks instead of someone who would rather stare at a textbook than have a proper conversation with you!" Jinsung joked over text as you gave it a thought.

Sieun never really cared about where you went and it's not like he could dictate where you went, so why not?

You couldn't help but have a small smile on your face as you twirled in front of the mirror. It had been a while since you got to dress up and go out. Your hair was curled, and your lips were pink. The golden rays of the sun were already reaching your bed, and in a few hours, the sun would set. You grabbed your purse and switched off the lights in the house, taking one last glance at the quiet house before twisting the door knob to the front door and opening it.

"Sieun?".

The boy was about to walk past your house to get to his house but stopped in his tracks when he saw your door open.

"You're all dressed up, I thought we already cancelled plans?" Sieun asked as he stared at your face, waiting for an answer.

"I'm going out with a friend," you answered, looking around, feeling awkward in front of your boyfriend.

"Who? The one that plays basketball every day and doesn't have a single care for his studies or his future?" Sieun asked sarcastically, scoffing as you stood up straight, processing what he had just said.

"Watch your mouth Sieun, today is the only day he's not going to the study room to hang out with me," You responded, looking at the boy in the eye as his gaze became sharp.

"You're dressed so nicely just to go out with him?" Sieun asked as his lips were stuck in the line that resembled the line that was beginning to crack into the relationship between the both of you.

"At least he made the effort to find time to spend time with me, Sieun! Every day of every week of every month, I ask you to spend even just a little bit of time with me, and you can't even do that! I get that studying is important, but you can go out with Sooho, but never with me. What's wrong with me to the point that you don't want to spend even one phone call with me?!" You couldn't help but shout at the boy in front of you as you shoved your finger into his chest with every word you said.

You meant it. You meant every single word.

It hurt. It hurt to be the one that he would turn to whenever it was convenient. To be the second choice, but to him, you were 'his first choice'. You never were, and you never felt that way either.

By then, tears had already begun sliding down your cheeks as your heart practically shattered in your chest. Everything you tried to keep together, to seem like you had everything under control came crashing down.

Sieun was shocked at your outburst. You were his first choice and he was sure you knew that.

"You know that I'd choose you every time," Sieun tried to console you, reaching out for your hand as you snatched it away, already feeling the hurt engulf your entire being.

"Knowing is different from feeling, Sieun. You can't expect me to understand your love language when it isn't mine, because I will never understand it."

You couldn't take it, just his face was enough to make more tears stream down your face as you slipped back behind the door and locked it behind you.

The loud knocking behind you was evident that he was still there, looking for you, but why did it take such drastic actions for him to finally be the one to reach out? The one to give any speck of effort? To finally make you feel like you were even a thought in that academic-filled brain of his. It was too late.

______

hello everyone, did you miss me? :]

[evalevaeva]

OF COURSE I AM 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

THE BREAKING POINT

genre. hurt/comfort. warnings. reader has rly bad friends. nothing is described much in detail but being left out, being taken advantage of/used, etc all mentioned crying. kissing. not proofread. pairing. gwangil x fem!reader. wc. 816. request. requested by @completely-zoned-out for #10: “you're safe here with me." a/n. ever since the lucy concert gwangil has wrecked me like crazy esp his solo stages those were my fav of the entire concert :(

Gwangil’s mind raced with possible explanations as to why you had shown up at his door at nearly 11 at night, eyes welling with tears that were threatening to spill over the surface. There had always been dozens of unanswered questions between you and him, yet despite the lack of answers, there was always a feeling of trust and safety that never faltered.

You both liked each other a lot, spending far too much time together to still count as just “friends”. It was obvious how you felt about him to anyone who saw the way you looked at him. Not even counting the multiple occasions you had given in to the urge to taste his lips, everyone could tell that the line between friends and lovers had been ridiculously blurred.

Gwangil had originally met you through his friends, who had connections with your friend group, of which he was a little doubtful of. He first noticed you because of how obvious it was that you were being excluded from conversations and activities. At first, he felt bad for you, silently watching your face fall whenever you realized that no one was listening to what you were saying. Gwangil was— he always did. He found your voice the only one he wanted to pay attention to in the entire room. 

When his feelings of pity for you turned to feelings of anger for your “friends”, he started to make a move to include you whenever he could. You were smart and pretty— there was no obvious reason why anyone wouldn’t want to be friends with you.

And after months of talking with you, Gwangil learned you were much more than just smart and pretty. Your ambition, your dreams, your kindness, your selflessness, and all the other amazing qualities that he could list off of the top of his head, only drew him in more. And eventually, he found himself falling head over heels in love with you, although he tried to conceal it at first. 

Your “friends” had always bothered him, and the way you tried to justify their actions irked him even more. The longer you hung out with them, the more they took advantage of you, using your longing for real connection to embarrass you or make you uncomfortable. You were like their guinea pig, yet you continued to go along with whatever they said, not seeing how toxic they were. 

Gwangil could assume a million possible ways that they might have pushed you to your breaking point. He couldn’t be mad at you for not realising earlier how ill-suited they were for you. Neither did he want to try to understand why they did it to you in the first place. He could only feel a detestable hatred towards them for driving you to this point; tears streaming down your cheeks, having no one to rely on but him.

He thanked God that at least he was able to be there for you as he pulled you into his chest and shut the front door. He held you tightly, letting your emotions spill over as much as they needed to after being ignored for so long. He didn’t need an explanation right now, all he needed was for you to be okay.

“It’s okay, Y/n. I’m here. You’re safe here with me.” He whispered reassuringly into your ear. 

He had always found emotions confusing and overwhelming, so he was surprised at how natural the comforting words came to him. But everything came naturally when it was you. Becoming friends was natural, falling in love was natural, holding each other, kissing each other, thinking about each other every waking moment— everything that had felt so foreign and distant and unattainable to Gwangil was present and simple when it was with you.

His words seemed to be exactly what you needed. He felt your breathing steady, the wet patch that had developed on his shirt slowly drying, as you were no longer crying. You felt awful in so many ways, and wanted to do everything possible to forget the day you had just experienced. Gwangil’s arms were your safe place, and his voice soothed your mind. It was only natural that you would seek him out before anyone else. And as soon as you could feel his arms wrapped around you, his scent invading your senses and his words echoing in your mind, you finally felt at ease. 

You wanted to thank him for a million things, yet words seemed to get stuck in your throat. Not that you could think of any that would properly portray what you wanted to tell him. So instead, you simply pulled him closer, letting him decide whether to taste your lips or not. And he did, because it was all he ever wanted and all you needed for everything to feel just a little bit more okay.

↳ lucy taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @evalevaeva,, @weird-bookworm,, @seunghancore,,

@chenleszone,, @chewryy,, @hursheys

[evalevaeva]

ate this up (as always) haven't seen lucy content in awhile so MY BIAS 😻😻😻😻😻

THE BREAKING POINT

genre. hurt/comfort. warnings. reader has rly bad friends. nothing is described much in detail but being left out, being taken advantage of/used, etc all mentioned crying. kissing. not proofread. pairing. gwangil x fem!reader. wc. 816. request. requested by @completely-zoned-out for #10: “you're safe here with me." a/n. ever since the lucy concert gwangil has wrecked me like crazy esp his solo stages those were my fav of the entire concert :(

Gwangil’s mind raced with possible explanations as to why you had shown up at his door at nearly 11 at night, eyes welling with tears that were threatening to spill over the surface. There had always been dozens of unanswered questions between you and him, yet despite the lack of answers, there was always a feeling of trust and safety that never faltered.

You both liked each other a lot, spending far too much time together to still count as just “friends”. It was obvious how you felt about him to anyone who saw the way you looked at him. Not even counting the multiple occasions you had given in to the urge to taste his lips, everyone could tell that the line between friends and lovers had been ridiculously blurred.

Gwangil had originally met you through his friends, who had connections with your friend group, of which he was a little doubtful of. He first noticed you because of how obvious it was that you were being excluded from conversations and activities. At first, he felt bad for you, silently watching your face fall whenever you realized that no one was listening to what you were saying. Gwangil was— he always did. He found your voice the only one he wanted to pay attention to in the entire room. 

When his feelings of pity for you turned to feelings of anger for your “friends”, he started to make a move to include you whenever he could. You were smart and pretty— there was no obvious reason why anyone wouldn’t want to be friends with you.

And after months of talking with you, Gwangil learned you were much more than just smart and pretty. Your ambition, your dreams, your kindness, your selflessness, and all the other amazing qualities that he could list off of the top of his head, only drew him in more. And eventually, he found himself falling head over heels in love with you, although he tried to conceal it at first. 

Your “friends” had always bothered him, and the way you tried to justify their actions irked him even more. The longer you hung out with them, the more they took advantage of you, using your longing for real connection to embarrass you or make you uncomfortable. You were like their guinea pig, yet you continued to go along with whatever they said, not seeing how toxic they were. 

Gwangil could assume a million possible ways that they might have pushed you to your breaking point. He couldn’t be mad at you for not realising earlier how ill-suited they were for you. Neither did he want to try to understand why they did it to you in the first place. He could only feel a detestable hatred towards them for driving you to this point; tears streaming down your cheeks, having no one to rely on but him.

He thanked God that at least he was able to be there for you as he pulled you into his chest and shut the front door. He held you tightly, letting your emotions spill over as much as they needed to after being ignored for so long. He didn’t need an explanation right now, all he needed was for you to be okay.

“It’s okay, Y/n. I’m here. You’re safe here with me.” He whispered reassuringly into your ear. 

He had always found emotions confusing and overwhelming, so he was surprised at how natural the comforting words came to him. But everything came naturally when it was you. Becoming friends was natural, falling in love was natural, holding each other, kissing each other, thinking about each other every waking moment— everything that had felt so foreign and distant and unattainable to Gwangil was present and simple when it was with you.

His words seemed to be exactly what you needed. He felt your breathing steady, the wet patch that had developed on his shirt slowly drying, as you were no longer crying. You felt awful in so many ways, and wanted to do everything possible to forget the day you had just experienced. Gwangil’s arms were your safe place, and his voice soothed your mind. It was only natural that you would seek him out before anyone else. And as soon as you could feel his arms wrapped around you, his scent invading your senses and his words echoing in your mind, you finally felt at ease. 

You wanted to thank him for a million things, yet words seemed to get stuck in your throat. Not that you could think of any that would properly portray what you wanted to tell him. So instead, you simply pulled him closer, letting him decide whether to taste your lips or not. And he did, because it was all he ever wanted and all you needed for everything to feel just a little bit more okay.

↳ lucy taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @evalevaeva,, @weird-bookworm,, @seunghancore,,

@chenleszone,, @chewryy,, @hursheys