#and thought i could at least say thank you

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anothology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist | cw: oral (reader receiving)

Part Ten: Permission

A/N: We're SO back!

You’ve never been so happy to work an extra day.

Johnny gets the shop to himself on Sundays for walk-ins. Usually, he mans the shop by himself but you need to record the cash income from the convention in the ledger. Sure, you could do that during your usual hours the upcoming Wednesday and catch up on sleep, but you have too much nervous energy coursing through you. If you were home you would just be stewing on your couch the hole day and probably spiral into a panic attack. At least here, with a task and Johnny yapping in your ear, you don’t have to think about the fact that you made out with your boss too much.

Fuck. You really did that. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You woke up in a cold sweat, fingers brushing over your lips as you tried to decipher if it was real or dreamed. If you really kissed John, if he really held a hand on your lower back as he walked you home, if he really gave you a second, light peck before saying goodnight. The itch of his beard lingers, as well as the warmth where his hands cupped your face. It felt so good. So fucking good.

Then the context settles in. The fact that you kissed your boss makes you want to throw up - not for any dislike of it, just the fact that your job is now in limbo. Hanging in the balance until you can talk to him on Wednesday. At least you can take the next couple days to collect your thoughts - come up with a good apology that will hopefully let you keep your job and some semblance of dignity. Somehow make sense of the fact that you’ve kissed John and Kyle and surely when they find out they’ll think you’re a floosy. Loose and easy and pathetic and gross. You couldn’t quite meet your own eye in the mirror as you tried to get ready for the day.

The current, formerly “Future You” is not very happy with the now Past You. Frankly, you’d like to deck her for leaving you in this state of a permanent heart attack.

“Och, I’m about tae melt.” Johnny mutters, appearing from his room and stretching. His shirt rides up, exposing a thick happy trail that does not help you in your current spiral.

You just hum, gluing your eyes to the physical spreadsheet in front of you as you go through the sales from the convention. Numbers will clear your head. Yeah, nothing less sexy or more distracting than trying to do math with pen, paper and a TI-84 calculator.

“We should go get some ice cream.” Johnny leans over behind you, causing you to jump. Large hands settle on your shoulders as he rests his chin on the top of your head. At least Johnny is always touchy, you don’t have to read into it. You don’t think you could handle reading into it right now.

“Uh, yeah, okay.” You murmur, letting him lead you out of the office and flipping the out for lunch sign. You’ve been so lost in your head the entire day that you can’t fully pull yourself out of it - the same spiral of fears and self-degradation swirling around in your mind. A Cat 5 tornado of your own making. So stupid.

Johnny intertwines your fingers as you make your way down the street. Your hands swing lightly as you walk. Even with the heat, it doesn’t feel like too much. You’re not sure what it is - of you’re just comfortable or if Johnny just has something about him that makes touch feel perfectly natural - but it’s never overwhelming. Even when he’s hanging off you like a leech, it’s just Johnny. He doesn’t make you talk, doesn’t pry into why you’re so spaced out. He probably just thinks you’re tired. You are tired. So tired.

You don’t realize Johnny is saying something until he gently elbows your side. “Huh?”

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks with a concerned furrow in his brow.

“Oh, uh, I can get my own-“

”My treat.” He shakes his head, batting away the hand pulling your wallet out of your back pocket. You have no choice but to give in to him - there isn’t any point in arguing with Johnny.

“Thanks for suggesting this.” You murmur, as you sit at one of the wooden, outdoor tables in front of the shop a couple blocks down from the tattoo parlor. The tables are covered in the shade of trees and an awning, luckily, keeping the sun from beating down on you. It doesn’t stop your ice cream from melting nearly faster than you can eat it, but you don’t have the heart to complain after Johnny took you out and bought it for you.

“Aye. Seemed like ye needed some cheerin’ up. Never seen ye so sullen.” Johnny comments, casually stuffing a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. His eyes are sympathetic, though.

“Oh.” You thought you’d been doing alright at hiding it - came into the shop with a jokes and everything this morning. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much Johnny actually notices between all his volume and energy.

“Gonnae tell me about it?”

“No.”

“Might help.”

You shake your head. “I- I’m- I can’t.”

“Okay.” He smiles gently, giving you a once over. His eyes are so sharp. The others do it too - take your body language in piece by piece. It doesn’t burn like when Johnny does it, though. His gaze is consuming, even when soft.

He seems to let you off the hook, though. It’s impossible to know how much he does or doesn’t know - how much any of them know. It puts you on edge, the inability to ask. After all, to ask is to admit. If you admit to it, you might lose it all. Fuck why did you kiss John? Kyle you can explain away - just a fun little bet. You’re close in age, he’s pretty, you’re together a lot, you get along. Nothing to it - even if it feels like there was. Even if it feels like every time you’re near him you’re going to melt and the air gets too thick and all you want is to pull him to the back room one more time.

John… John you can’t justify like that. He’s your boss. He’s over a decade older than you. Easily. He’s been so good to you but that’s not an excuse - it’s not right. You’re jeopardizing his place in his community. You’re jeopardizing your job. The best job you’ve ever had. The best friends you’ve ever had.

You can feel Johnny glancing at you as you walk, your eyes square on the ground and fists clenched anxiously. The heat outside only makes your head spin faster. Your cheeks feel feverishly hot. The ice cream almost curdles in your gut. Everything is too loud, too hot, too heavy.

You glance up at the clock. The day’s almost over - there probably won’t be more than one or two people that file in at most. You’ve finished with your work, currently just cross hatching on a sticky note in an attempt to calm your frayed nerves. It hasn’t worked. You need a distraction. A real, proper distraction.

“Johnny.” You snap, standing in the door way to his workroom.

“Hm?” He looks up, thick brows raised.

“I want a piercing.”

He cocks his head, taking you in from head to toe. “Aye?”

“If you have time.”

“I’ve always got time fer ye.” He grins.

You almost roll your eyes, but you’re too raw at the edges to really care about his usual flirting. There’s too much weighing on your mind - too much real anxiety knotting itself around your synapses and crushing them in it’s hold. The pain will help. It’ll ground you - sharpen your senses. You can focus on taking care of it for the next couple days between sleeping the days away until Wednesday. Until you can get this shit over with.

The only answer is to quit, right?

That’s your only option.

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks.

You shrug. “What’d you think?”

He taps his chin, eyes slowly making their way over your body. You wonder if he can see how tense you are - body so locked up your joints ache and your jaw throbs. It’s a wonder your teeth are still there with how much you’ve been grinding them.

“How about a navel?”

“Okay.” You agree too quickly, flopping back on the pairing table. You focus in on a water mark on the ceiling above while Johnny digs through his tool cabinet, laying everything neatly on a small rolling tray.

Johnny stops above you. You don’t even turn your head to look, fists clenching and unclenching.

You’ll have to quit.

That’s your only choice. No reference calls, no contact. Will Simon hate you? Will they all? Will they talk about why you up and left? Will they show up at your apartment to demand an answer? No. You don’t mean that much - only a blip on the timeline of their shop. The corners of your eyes burn.

Johnny’s fingers skate over your soft middle, barely touching as he passes over the button of your jeans. He pauses, glancing down at you. “Bonnie?”

“Yeah?” You reply a little too harshly.

Johnny leans over you, hands on either side of your head, blue eyes burning through your skull. He blocks out the light above. “Yer doin’ this because ye want to, yeah? Not to punish yerself?”

You shrink into the table, hackles raising. It really is so easy to forget that Johnny is an observant bastard. Loud, brash, but he still sees everything. Like how he learned your coffee order by heart without you ever even saying it to him or having it written on the cup. He absorbs things, files it away, keeps it close to his chest and hides it behind his blunt, brash daily manners. You’ll miss him.

“I- yeah, I’m fine.” You wince internally at the shake in your voice.

“Y’know, we all love ye.” Johnny murmurs.

You huff, eyes darting anywhere to get away from his. Laying on the table suddenly feels slightly trapping. You can’t get your gaze fully away from where he stands over you - so close as his thick arms cage you in. “Guess so.”

“An’ there’s nothin’ tae feel guilty or bad about.”

Your eyes snap to his face, wide and worried. Does he know? Was he told? Do you ask? If you ask, you’ll be admitting to it. If you ask, then he will know for sure. If you ask, you might ruin it all. “I don’t-“

“Ye do.” He cuts you off. “An’ ye have permission, even if ye dinnae need it. It’s okay. Ye havennae done anythin’ wrong.”

You stare, mouth opening and closing lamely. Johnny. Straight forward, loud mouth, unsubtle Johnny. Fuck, you love him for it. Doesn’t dance around what he means. Doesn’t avoid what needs to be said - from his end, at least.

“Did- did you talk to-?” You stutter, struggling between needing to know and fear to admit the truth so blatantly. Even if he obviously knows something.

“Not really. Not my business.” Johnny shrugs casually.

Not his business. So they persue separately, you think. That makes sense. Probably. It’s probably wrong to make assumptions about the dynamic, about the implication that they have some sort of free for all. Then again, you don’t really know anything about their interpersonal workings much. They live together, they’re touchy. The dynamic is a mystery to you - only adding to the piles of confusion.

“Yer thinkin’ tae hard about it.” He pokes the furrow between your brows.

Oh. Is that it? You’re overthinking? No, adults talk about these things. You don’t understand the interpersonal workings here at all. Are they together? Do they just do this? Pull girls in and push them around until they get tired? That feels too cruel for them. They’ve taken such good care of you…

“I still… want to talk.” You murmur, cheeks warm.

His face softens, a light smile tugging at his lips. “An’ ye will. Kyle’s been damn near loosin’ it with ye avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding him!” You snap far too defensively.

“Sure ye aren’t.” Johnny shrugs, as if to tell you he knows that’s bull. Not his business, though, he said. “Just… donnae be so scared of us, aye? We’ve got yer back.”

Your shoulders drop, sore from being tensed for the entire day. “Okay.”

“Still want tae get peirced?”

You nod, chest far less tight. As though you finally let go of a breath you had been holding the entire day. “Sure, why not.”

Your shoulders slump as Johnny makes his way through the usual song and dance - showing you the freshly cleaned tools and marking the spot for the needle. Somehow the world seems… quieter. As if all the chatter in your mind had been just as deafening to your physical ears. It’s tiring. That same sting behind your eyes that you get after a long night out. Your defenses are down, and your body is finally at rest.

“Ow!” You gasp, lifting your head to meet Johnny’s impish grin with a glare. “A little warning next time!”

“Tha’s what happens when ye donnae listen.” He teases, slipping the jewelry through. “She’s cute.”

You snort. “She better be. Y’know I should tell John on you for improper conduct.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Aye, ye an’ Price know plenty about improper conduct.”

There’s no malice in the comment, or in the grin he settles on you. For once, you don’t freeze up. Don’t send yourself into a panic spiral over what he knows or thinks or feels. Johnny made himself clear. Instead you land a light smack against his arm and huff in embarrassment.

“Stand f’me.” Johnny murmurs after cleaning the piercing, a heat in his eyes that you can’t quite gauge the source of.

You do as you’re told, slipping off the table. You have to hook a finger into the waistband of your jeans to keep them up, cheeks hot as you realize how much is actually exposed with the fully undone fly. You glance up at a far too pleased Johnny. Didn’t even say a word, the mischievous bastard.

He drops to his knees in front of you. Your brows shoot damn near into the sky. Johnny mumbles something about making sure the piercing is sitting right. You roll with it, knowing he’s probably just saying whatever to get you to keep your pants undone a little longer. Your breath quickens as a large, warm hand flattens itself over your soft belly, unabashedly groping. Not that you mind, really, even if it does make your face so hot it might melt.

Your heart almost breaks out of your rib cage when he places a small kiss next to the piercing. His hand lowers, resting beside yours on the waistband of your jeans.

“May I?” Johnny murmurs, big blue eyes blinking up at you.

You have permission.

You don’t need permission.

You have it, though.

“Yeah.” You gasp, shivering at the cold air on your skin as Johnny pulls your pants halfway down your thighs.

“Pretty, pretty lass.” He murmurs, nipping at the softness of your belly and down to your thigh. “Look at ye.”

“Flatterer.” You scoff, attempting to let the tension melt off your shoulders with the usual snide remarks you slide each others way.

“M’just honest…” Johnny mumbles absently, fingers catching in the hems of your underwear. “Ye always walkin’ around in somethin’ this skintie?”

For a moment, your brows knit in confusion. That is until he pulls back and snaps the string of your thong against your hip. Your face somehow gets even hotter and you grumble out a poor excuse of, “S’laundry day…”

Your hips twitch as he traces between your lips through the cloth. So uncharacteristically slow and methodical for Johnny as he feels you, like he’s trying to memorize it. A shamefully harsh jolt runs up your spine as he presses just slightly into your clit.

“Sensitive little thing.” Johnny grins up at you. You swear the devil has a less delinquent grin.

“It’s been a while.” You shrug, aiming once again for casual and missing by a mile.

His grin only grows, eyes bright and hungry. “Let’s get these off.”

You shimmy your hips a bit to help him get both your underwear and jeans completely down. A wave of shyness overtakes you as it settles in that you’re utterly exposed to Johnny, your friend and coworker, in the middle of your workplace just as the sun has begun to edge down close to the horizon. It’s almost too much, and you almost yank your pants back on with a stammered, fake excuse, but Johnny soothes his hands up your thighs, gaze locked onto your pussy like it’s the only thing that exists and yeah… you want that.

You have permission.

“There she is.” He cups you gently, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit just hard enough to make you gasp.

Before you can say or do anything his hand retracts and Johnny settles you with the most serious look you’ve ever seen from him. It looks wrong, almost, on that face that’s supposed to have a permanent ear to ear grin.

“If ye want tae stop, I need ye tae tell me now.”

“No.” The word leaves you before you can even register the thought - desperate and breathy.

It earns a low chuckle. The only warning you get before Johnny licks a long stripe up between your lips, letting his tongue rest on your clit for just a moment before repeating the motion as though he’s not just eating you out but truly trying to truly get a taste for you. To memorize you as he drinks you in.

“Should let me give you a Christina…” He murmurs, pulling back to look at you.

“Ah, wha-“

“Look so pretty on this fat little cunt.” Johnny gives you a light smack for good measure, grinning at the visible jolt that travels up your spine before diving back in. He hooks a leg over his shoulder, leaving you balancing on your tip toes with your hands flat on the table behind you. It’s precarious and with absolutely no room to escape the attention he’s lavishing on you. It’s almost desperate, the way he moves. The way he devours. A man utterly starved.

“Fuck-“ you gasp as his tongue piercing catches your clit. Rough hands knead at the softness of your thighs and hips, urging you to press into him, to take as much as he’s giving.

“Tha’s it, ride m’face…” Your fingers lock into his mohawk and Johnny’s slurred words become the most pornographic moan you think you’ve ever heard. He practically goes limp - body relaxed and pliant while you grind down onto his tongue.

You tilt your head forward, risking looking down only to meet those big blue eyes staring up at you with all the intensity of the sun. A shaky moan passes your lips and his eyes flutter.

“J-Johnny-” The whine of his name only spurs him on - has him pressing his tongue so deep inside you and drinking you in full.

If he has any complaints about the way your heel digs between his shoulder blades as you unconsciously pull him closer, he doesn’t make it known. His nails rake over your ass, biting and stinging in contrast to everything else. It’s so much. Heat continues to pool at the base of your spine - babbling words, please and moans spill messily from your lips.

Your climax catches you off guard as Johnny sucks harshly at your clit; lighting your body aflame with only his mouth. Every muscle inside you tenses and the sounds you let out can only be described as strangled whines.

You have to yank a little at Johnny’s hair to get him to stop when the overstimulation reaches just the wrong side of too much; he’s well and truly lost in the moment. It fuels your ego to dangerous heights - the idea that this gorgeous man became that intoxicated just from your pussy.

There isn’t even time to say anything before Johnny is standing and connecting his lips with yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, his lips - somehow this is the first time you’ve found that pleasant. With heavy breaths you watch him wipe around his mouth his his palm, only to exaggeratedly lick and clean what’s left off his hand. Fucking sinful.

“Nasty man.” You sigh, too blissed out to be truly critical. Johnny winks and you roll your eyes.

“S’about quittin’ time.” He says, tilting his head to look up at you through thick lashes. “Should get ye home.”

You frown, still trying to come back to earth as you glance down. “Don’t- do you want-?”

He looks you over, your mouth goes dry as his hand drops from your hip to adjust himself. The implications of the outline through his thick denim has your head reeling and your breath quickening. Johnny chuckles at you, surely seeing it written plain across your face. You might as well start drooling and panting like a dog.

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck to nip at your skin. “Another time. Want tae savor ye.”

You shiver, unable to stop the smile that quirks up the corners of your lips. You have permission. You don’t need it, but you have it.

A/N: Sorry if this is a little rough, I'm getting back into the swing of things. It's finally time for things to get fun, tho ;)

Also please give some love to this AMAZING fanart from @eurydicescurse

[evanbi-ckley]

Buck walks through the automatic doors on autopilot and freezes. It hits him then that the last time he stood here, he was meeting Tommy for Maddie and Chim’s wedding. He had stood almost in this very spot and kissed his boyfriend who was covered in soot after fighting a wildfire all night and most of the day.

Now his boyfriend is somewhere else in the hospital, and Buck can’t kiss him or touch him, and his hands are shaking, and he thinks he’s going to be sick.

He turns toward the nearest bathroom and makes it into the stall just in time. He hasn’t eaten yet today, so he’s only throwing up bile mixed with panic and regret, but it’s just as bad.

It’s Hen who finds him, which -

“Why are you in the men’s room?” he asks, his voice weak and still creaky.

“I thought you might need a medical professional.” When Buck just looks at her, she continues with a sigh, “We could hear you in the waiting room. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh.” That’s a little embarrassing. “Sorry. And thanks.”

He gratefully accepts the wet paper towel she hands him to wipe his face.

“Any news yet?”

“Not yet. They took him back for surgery, and it’ll probably be a few more hours before we hear. Bobby and Eddie are in the waiting room if there’s an update. Chim went to pick up Jee from daycare, but he’ll be back later with Maddie.”

Then she produces a water bottle from somewhere behind her.

“How long have I been in here?” Buck asks. Hen seems way too prepared for it to have been just a few minutes.

“About half an hour,” she says. “Actually closer to 45 minutes now.”

“Right.”

So time is still moving awkwardly. He can’t get his bearings. He feels untethered, like he’ll never be on solid ground again.

“Why don’t we get you up and out to a chair?” Hen asks gently. She’s not treating him with kid gloves, but she is being more careful than necessary.

He decides to accept it for the time being. Maybe he does need the softness in her voice and the kindness in her eyes right now.

“Yeah - yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks, Hen.”

She smiles with something like relief and then stands, offering Buck a hand up.

The waiting room is blessedly empty save for their morose party. Buck tries to sit down, but before he can, Hen is pulling at his turnout coat, trying to yank it off his shoulders. She manhandles the coat off and tosses it to Eddie who adds it to the growing pile of coats on an unused chair in the corner. He’s too tired to fight it or question it, plus it was getting heavy with all of the rain still soaked into the fabric. 

After that, Hen leaves to call Karen, and Ravi goes to get food for them all at a little cafe just up the road that they’ve come to know well. 

Buck sits between Bobby and Eddie, almost a mockery of them standing at the crash site, holding him up. Best not to think about it.

Eddie holds a phone in his hands that Buck recognizes, but it’s not Eddie’s phone. The screen is cracked at the upper corner, spider-webbing its way diagonally down the length of the glass.

“Is that -?” He can’t even bring himself to ask.

“It’s Tommy’s, yeah. A nurse brought out the personal items he had on him a while ago. I was going to see if he has any family in his contacts, but I don’t know his passcode.”

“Oh,” Buck swallows roughly, “it’s um - it’s my birthday. But,” he continues before Eddie types the digits, “he doesn’t have any family in his contacts. At least, not anyone he would want here.”

“Ah,” is all Eddie says before handing the phone over to Buck. He pockets it and tries to think about anything other than his boyfriend a few rooms away getting his arm put back together.

He spends the next few minutes staring off into space thinking of nothing other than his boyfriend a few rooms away getting his arm put back together.

“He’s gonna be okay, Buck,” Eddie says into the heavy silence.

“Eddie’s right,” Bobby adds. “His arm will be fine, and the cuts and scrapes will heal. He’ll be back up in the sky before you know it.”

Buck feels his stomach churn threateningly at the thought, but he does his best to nod and smile. 

When Ravi returns with food, Buck can’t handle the smell, let alone eating anything. But he tries. He can hear Tommy’s low voice in his head warning, “Evan, you need to eat something,” and that convinces him more than Eddie’s prodding.

When Karen shows up along with Chimney and Maddie, Buck feels the need to pull her and his sister off to the side.

He tries to keep his voice steady as he says, “I didn’t get it. Before, I mean. I didn’t get what it felt like to be on this side.” He’s oddly proud his voice only cracked once.

Maddie grabs his hand. “Buck, you’ve been on this side a lot of times. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the 118 isn’t very good at staying out of the hospital.”

He lets out a wet laugh.

“I think he means on the worried partner side of things,” Karen says. “You’ve never had someone you’re in a relationship with get injured like this before. Is that right?”

“Y-yeah.” He chuckles sardonically. “When I saw the helicopter - and his - his hand hanging out the window - I thought - he wasn’t moving, y’know? It took us so long to find him. We were too late. I thought -”

“You thought you’d lost him,” Maddie supplies. He can only nod. “Yep, welcome to the Worried Partners Club.”

“It sucks, but it’s worth it,” Karen adds.

Later, when Athena gets off shift, she arrives at the hospital bearing coffee for everyone. Buck nods gratefully when she hands him one, and the understanding look in her eyes nearly sets him off again. Although, he thinks he might be too dehydrated for tears by now.

“Family of Thomas Kinard?” a voice calls from the doors leading to the OR.

Everyone looks up, but Buck is on his feet before the nurse finishes saying Tommy’s name. He feels people behind him, and the nurse’s eyes widen a bit at everyone gathering around, but Buck’s glad for them.

“He’s out of surgery. Everything went well. He’ll be in recovery for about an hour, but as soon as we get him in a room, you can see him.” 

The last part is directed toward Buck. Maybe he now looks like he’s part of the Worried Partners Club, but that’s fine. He’ll see Tommy soon. That’s what matters.

He catches the end of the nurse’s spiel as he says, “...still be under some sedation, so don’t expect much conversation.”

Buck nods, and the nurse leaves, and then Maddie is dragging him back to their chairs, handing him his coffee, and plopping down next to him to wait until they can see Tommy.

“He’s going to be insufferable,” Eddie says suddenly. He looks at Buck and says, “Remember that time he sprained his ankle while we were sparring? God, he was the worst patient.”

Buck genuinely laughs for the first time since they got the call. “He’s so stubborn, he wouldn’t even let me open doors for him. He just struggled to balance on his crutches so he could do it himself. He almost fell into the bushes twice outside the physical therapist’s office.”

Then everyone is laughing, a sense of lightness settling over Buck. He still doesn’t feel grounded or right necessarily, but laughing with his family helps.

They keep telling stories after that. Most of them are about Tommy, but some are stories or updates about kids or parents or a new recipe gone wrong. They all avoid the topic of work.

“Family of Thomas Kinard?” It’s a different nurse this time, but she doesn’t blink an eye at the number of family Tommy has. “He’s resting in his room. You can go back to see him, but we ask that you keep it to 4 or 5 people at a time. He’s still pretty groggy and probably won’t remember what happened right away, so keep conversation simple.” Then she turns and starts walking down the hallway, not waiting or looking back to see if anyone follows.

Buck grabs Chim and Eddie and gestures at Bobby to come, too. At the last second he grabs Hen’s hand, and the five of them hurry to catch up with the nurse together.

“Breathe, Buck,” Hen whispers.

He can’t. Not yet.

part 1

part 2

part 4

[yutarot]

IN PERFECT SYNC [j.jh smau]

eighteen — it was me. wc: 2.0k

you still.

the timing, the fucking timing.

your finger hovers over the accept button, the green light reflecting off your thumb as if its warning you off from the consequences of pressing it.

you couldn’t possibly accept it, i mean, after that conversation the other day, jaehyun drenched through at your doorstep as you implied your clear distaste towards him, you would just feel weak answering the call.

you didn’t need to know why he was calling. right?

so you decline.

it feels good for a total of 13 minutes. until he calls again. and again.

maybe it’s urgent, you reason with yourself. maybe he needs me.

but nothing in this world could ever make jeong jaehyun need you, you were confident of that after hearing all those rumours two years ago.

he never needed you. he never wanted you.

so why now?

fuck it.

the next call, you pick up.

he’s silent, but you can hear him breathing softly on the other end of the phone. and you’re sure that he can hear the same from yours.

after a few moments, he speaks.

“yn..” he says slowly, as if he’s testing out the word on his lips for the first time. but you know it’s not the first, and now your curious of his carefulness. “we need to talk.”

you sigh, but it’s not in annoyance. you’re not sure what it’s in, but it’s definitely not happiness either. it’s somewhere.. in between.

“did something happen?” you ask, quiet, almost a whisper.

you don’t need to see his face to know he’s saying no, that he’s saying there’s something else. his silence speaks the words for him.

so you continue. “i’ll be over in 10. this better be worth my time, jeong.”

he clears his throat, “thank you.” as he hangs up. leaving you wondering what the hell he wants you for.

and why the hell you’re agreeing to it.

you knock on his door, one, two, three times. it’s a little signature thing you and jaehyun used to do in highschool, he knew you were nervous to answer the door to strangers, so he came up with the idea of knocking 3 times, in even beats, everytime you were at eachothers door. all so you knew that it was him. all so that you would feel safe.

you move the thoughts aside when he opens the door.

this isn’t like the other day, this is different. he looks at you for a moment, a small hint of a smile tracing his lips before its gone as quick as it came, vanished into the cold darkness of the night behind you.

“yutas out.” he starts, “come in.”

slowly, you creep into his dorm. it looks exactly the same as when he started. it looks exactly the same as the night you confronted him about the rumours, the night you cried at him until your throat was sore.

you sit on the couch in the middle of the room, jaehyun sitting on the coffee table in front of you, leaning his elbows onto his knees as he looks to the floor.

“why did you want me here, jaehyun?” you ask.

he looks up, face unreadable.

he’s silent again. still.

all you can hear is your heart, speed gaining and gaining and-

“it was me.”

it stops. not only your heart, but seemingly time around you too.

you’re finding it hard to distinguish between the rush of blood to your head and the anguish you feel from hearing those three words out loud. from no one’s lips except the man you hate the most. the man you least expected to mutter them.

it.

was.

me.

they keep replaying over and over in your mind.

it.

was.

me.

you can’t stop it, like a broken record, a carousel that refuses to halt.

like a lie that spiralled too far.

“you’re lying.” you spurt.

it.

was.

me.

he gulps, shaking his head side to side in small, reluctant movements. in disagreement.

“i know how this looks.” he replies. “but yn, please-“

it.

was.

me.

“no.” you interrupt him, standing to your feet.

he stands with you. “please.”

the words stop playing in your head as you watch him. his eyes pleading with you, a face you have never seen him wear.

“please, yn.”

you sit again. he sits with you.

“fine.” you reply.

“it’s been eating away at me, yn. its been eating away at me since the scores were announced.”

your eyebrows furrow. you thought he was just telling you he had been sending you the messages, a sick cruel means of messing with you.

“what?”

“i sabotaged my own team.”

now, you’re silent.

he continues. “i’m a horrible person yn, i should never have done this to my team, i should have never done this to you.”

“…why?” you murmur.

“your mother.”

you look up, expecting some sick, disgusting ‘ur mom’ joke, but he laughs in exhale.

“no, no, no, not like that.” he says, “i’m serious.” he pauses to look at you, “you never told me the reason you started ballet was to continue your mothers dream, why did you never tell me that?”

“why should i?”

“because it changes everything, yn!”

his outburst shocks you, and he mutters an apology before continuing, speaking quietly.

“look,” he’s barely above a whisper. “i already found it hard enough to pretend i hated you. i couldn’t let myself beat you, i couldn’t take that away from you, yn, no matter how much you may hate me. i can’t hate you the way you do, me.”

you’re confused. so if he really did sabotage his team, that means he really is..

Y..

and that means that every single message he sent was true.

“but how…?” you whisper, confusion lining your face.

his head cocks to the side. you continue.

“how could you… mean any of that.. after what you did?”

his face goes stone cold. he looks back to the ground.

you quickly take it back, regretting your decision to bring that up. “never mind, forget i asked, im leav-“

“it’s not true.” he’s still staring at the rug below your feet. you can hear the clock on his wall, ticking away, and counting each and every thought as it speeds past your mind.

“wha-“

“none of it. none of it is true, yn.” he looks up at you, his face of pleading is gone, replaced by a stern expression.

jaehyun has rehearsed this moment in his head over and over, ever since you were 18. ever since he was falsely accused of using you.

he stands up, looking down at you and he speaks.

“i never spoke shit about you to any of the girls i slept with, yn. i never told them you were annoying, that you were ugly or that i was just keeping you around to make myself look better. i never thought any of that.”

you struggle to breathe, to absorb everything he’s telling you.

“yn, it wasn’t like that. i told one girl about you.”

“oh great, that helps, thanks jaehyun.” you say sarcastically.

but he interrupts you.

“no. i told her how sweet you are. how pretty and perfect you are. about how every time i would leave the room without my phone, you would take it and fill my camera roll with cute little photos of yourself. i told her about how i kept every single one, in fear that if i was to ever lose you, i would have a lifetime supply of you, stored away in my pocket.”

you blink.

“i never wanted to get rid of you, yn. i wanted you for myself. the only problem was, she wanted me for herself. so she created the rumour that i said all those horrible things about you, spread by other girls who wanted me like she did, in hopes that you would hear about it and leave me. and you did. and i don’t blame you one bit.”

“but…” you can’t process it, not yet. you can’t believe the words hes telling you. this whole time you had been so set on how you felt, you’d been so set on how much you hated him. “why didn’t you tell me the truth.”

“i didn’t want you to find out.”

your eyebrows fold in confusion and he explains.

“i was 18, i was stupid and afraid that having a crush on my bestfriend was a horrible idea. so i couldn’t let you find out. i decided that letting you hate me would be the easier option. well, for you. for me though, it’s was hell. well, i mean, i have all those selfies of you in my camera roll still, that helped a little.” he laughs, but you don’t find it funny.

jaehyun, the man you’ve hated for two years, the man you loved for many more. here he was, telling you how much you mean to him, to the point where he chose your happiness over his own.

“oh my god…” you whine, “how did i not realise.”

“what?” he asks, concerned.

“yuno. thats what Y stands for.”

he laughs, and it’s warm. for the first time in 2 years, you feel comforted, excited by what the future brings.

after talking for the next hour, you discover that jaehyun really didn’t realise it was giselle he slept with, thinking it was just some random ncu girl.

you no longer have reason to hate jaehyun and the guilt you feel overwhelms you. jaehyun realises that you have alot to take in, and he doesn’t expect an apology, but you can’t leave him without giving one. not after all the hatred you have given him.

he walks you to his door.

“goodnight yn, thank you for hearing me out.”

“hey jae,” his eyes light up at the nickname, just like the other night, except this time, the light lingers. “i’m sorry, for everything.”

“no, don’t be, it was my fault. i was the one who let you believe it was true. i was the one who let you hate me.”

you smile, “then.. thank you.”

“goodnight, yn.”

“goodnight, jae.”

he goes to shut the door, but you remember something.

you rememeber one message.

a message from Y.

a message from jaehyun.

“i’m over you.” you repeat the message as if you’re asking a question.

his eyes widen for a split second before settling back to his normal, cold image.

“i meant it.” he says, “im over you.”

you nod, slowly, giving him a small smile and twisting on your heel and out the door.

he shuts it gently behind you.

he’s over you.

his words come back, spinning over and over again in your mind.

it was me.

one word sticks out to you. one word slap-bang, directly in the middle.

one word that changes everything, yet nothing at the same time.

one word.

‘was.’

mlist — next

notes; my GOSH it’s been so difficult hiding this from u guys in the replies hating so much on jaehyun 😞😞 i really hope you enjoyed this chapter (if you’ve read the tags then you know what’s coming) thank you for getting this far, and i hope you look forward to what’s next!

taglist — open; @https-yeonjun @chenlesfavorite @therealbobbyshloby @f6llsun @jkslvsnella @nanaxwi @cloudmrk @neocrashed @vernonburger @vividwritess @taeeflwrr @mmjhh1998 @cyjzzl @stareaa @minkyuncutie @mrkleelvr @dudekiss3r @nattan127 @slayhaechan @jaeveil @tynlvr @mslora @nosungluv @grassbutneo @dokyriu @girlz4jaem @axo-l0tl @yyangj3lly @solvrse @m1ng1swife @gentlepeach @xiuriii @soobinbunnie5 @tocupid @apolloxxivmin @ctrlstar @gyuguys @tokitosun @i-kai @flamingi @mrkleelvr @en-dream @queenrachelpink @ssweetreveries @swanyvess @flaminghotyourmom @hyuck-me @cryingforjae @hizhu @starfilledgaze

[corkinavoid]

I'm pretty sure this has been done before (and several times), but brain going brrr, so

DPxDC John Constantine's How To: Ghost Kids

Bruce doesn't even get to say anything when the door to his study opens with a slam against the wall, and before he knows it, he gets an armful of kids. As in, a bouquet of them.

"I'm so done," John Constantine breathes out, raspy and exhausted, looking like a trainwreck incarnate. Granted, the man always looked like one, but right now, the effect has been greatly worsened. The dark circles under John's eyes are, in fact, black, and it looks like he hasn't shaved in at least a week.

Bruce looks down to the small gaggle of children in his lap that he caught in his hands by sheer reflex.

All three of them look up at him with identical, sky blue eyes. They could be twins if it was not for their obviously different ages - the girl looks no older than three, while the boys are probably around five and six.

The older boy scrunches his nose. The girl pouts, but it looks directed at Constantine rather than at him.

Bruce looks back to John, a silent question in his eyes.

"They are- Well, not mine, for starters," the man begins, placing his hands on the table right over the sheets and documents, and leans on it, hanging his head down. Then, he raises one hand up and waves it in the air, "Not yours either, thank the Gods for that." He takes a deep breath.

Bruce's eyebrows raise all the way up to his hairline. The girl starts trying to wiggle out of his hands, but the middle boy holds her back, keeping her in Bruce's lap. She pouts harder.

"And you've brought them here why?" Bruce breaks the stretched out silence, gently repositioning the kids into a more comfortable hold. John raises his head up at him, and the magician's eyes look straight up pleading.

"You're the only person I know of who is, one, a parent, two, acquainted with supernatural, three, a man of great patience, and four, owes me a favor." Constantine lists off reasons that don't really make sense all together, especially regarding kids. Then he thinks for a moment and adds, "Five, owes a shitton of liquor."

"John, what-"

"Listen, I've been dealing with them for a week, I'm at my limit," Constantine interrupts him, desperate and close to whining, "I haven't slept in more than three consecutive hours for days. I don't remember the last time I ate. Or took a shower."

Yes, Bruce can see that. Or, rather, smell it. But that answers none of his questions as to who, why, and how.

"I would kill for a bath," John admits, like it's some sort of a secret. The middle boy opens his mouth, but Constantine points an accusing finger at him, "No, the puddle of melted ghost ice does not count for a bath. And don't come at me with your death puns."

The child rolls his eyes but closes his mouth back and slumps. Bruce resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, but only because he is holding three kids. His hands are full, quite literally.

"John, I need you to explain," he asks, somewhere between a demand and a careful inquiry. Because, really, the man looks on the brink of losing his sanity, that much is evident. Bruce might not like the man, but he can at least partially sympathize with dealing with kids.

His bare minimum of sympathy - and isn't it a bizarre thought, emotionally sympathizing with John Constantine of all people - does not ease his growing worry and irritation. The girl starts trying to get out of his hold again.

John takes a very deep breath, holds it, and then-

"I stole them," he says, looking Bruce dead in the eye, with a sense of resigned, if a bit unhinged, determination. And, before Bruce is able to ask literally anything else, he keeps going, "Their parents are shit, a branch of government is out for their guts - as in, literal guts - there was- there is a backdoor to the afterlife in their basement, and also they are dead and because of some Realms fuckery and their spiritual granddad being a huge pain in the ass, they are all wrong ages."

Bruce blinks. Then blinks again. Processing that sentence turns out to be a lot harder than he estimated.

The oldest kid in his lap gives John a middle finger, nearly sneering. The girl starts snickering, somehow making it soundless.

"Oh, and they are under a silence charm because if I hear one more references to fucking Ghostbusters I will shoot myself," Constantine finishes matter-of-factly.

Distantly, Bruce wonders if John can make that spell into some sort of an amulet. God knows, Dick really needs one sometimes. Steph does, too. And Jason. Actually, all of them need one.

He looks over the kids again. They don't seem scared or unsettled, neither by the fact they are sitting in a lap of a stranger nor by Constantine's bullet point version of a summary to their lives. They mostly just look annoyed and grumpy, and a bit embarrassed in case of the middle boy.

Bruce sighs and decides to start somewhere.

"Do they have names?"

[part 2 ->]

[pixelnrd]

Jasmine was working on a new PR crisis at work. The matter had been thrust upon her to manage and as she familiarised herself with the client she felt like they seemed somewhat familiar.

Upon heading to the photo studio to meet the client themselves, Jasmine realised that it was family, sitting in front of the blank canvas and arranging themselves. They were dressed for a stylised shoot that was designed to showcase their sophistication and wholesomeness in light of some negative publicity that had been recently thrust upon them. Jasmine was shocked, however, to see that one of their number was Andrew.

But of course it was Andrew - she reviewed the file and it suddenly all clicked. The Chen family were an old aristocratic family here on this side of the world. It had never occurred to her that Andrew belonged to that family. She felt silly the more she thought about it - he was well-spoken, he had never told him exactly what he did with himself other than manage a family business, he loved to play polo... but he was so down to earth, and never flaunted his status to her.

Jasmine went up to him after the shoot was done to say hello. Andrew seemed strained - he explained to her that his sister, Rebecca, a well-regarded socialite in the celebrity world, had recently had one too many negative articles written about her behaviour and it had drawn negative critique against the family as a whole. The firm was managing the crisis for them with a magazine article on how united and strong they were as a family.

'It's been... a headache, to say the least,' sighed Andrew, glaring at his sister. Jasmine noticed that Rebecca seemed less than friendly about the entire affair. But she did recall the many articles written about this girl, and the things she got up to. She felt for Andrew, having to publically lay himself out with his family for judgement.

'Don't worry,' smiled Jasmine. 'We'll make sure this goes away. I'm good at my job, you know. Thanks to you'. She realised that the reason Andrew must have pulled strings to get her here in the first place was because he was a paying client for the firm.

Andrew was grateful to her. And considering the favour he had done for her, he decided to shoot his shot once more with this beautiful woman.

'Perhaps I could take you out to dinner, as a thank you for all the hard work you'll be getting yourself into,' he said.

Jasmine felt awkward. He was asking her out. And she felt bad... she wished she could appropriately thank him for helping her in the past, but she had a boyfriend now. And things were serious.

'I'd love to but... I'm seeing someone,' she confessed. 'But maybe we can grab another coffee some time, once the dust has settled.'

[mysteryshoptls]

Leona Kingscholar Shared Lines

Tutorial: Hey, time to go. Follow me.

Level Up 1: Feels nice gettin' tributes.

Level Up 2: This ain't bad... But it's not nearly enough.

Level Up 3: Gaining more power never hurts.

Level Max: Hah, I feel as though everything is now in my grasp. If you're going to keep working hard for me like this, I guess I can throw you a bone.

Vignette Level Up: Never thought I'd be up to hangin' with a herbivore... But this is getting pretty interesting. As long as you don't cause me any issues, I'll keep lookin' after you.

Spell Level Up: You're probably the only one who actually would want to practice magic with me. Most people'll just tuck their tails and run away.

Friendship Level Up: I don’t like being constantly disturbed. So in that sense, this place is perfect and quiet.

Friendship Level Max: I don’t mind coming by this guest room once in a while. Make sure you have a place to nap and some food ready for me.

Uncapped: I can do it so long as I put my mind to it, ain't it obvious? I just don't want to.

Groovification: You want to see what I can really do? Heheh... A herbivore like you wouldn't nearly be ready to handle that.

Lesson Select 1: Hey you, sit in front of me. I'm gonna sleep behind you.

Lesson Select 2: It ain't that hard of a decision, is it? I'm tired of waitin' around.

Lesson Select 3: Time for a peaceful study time with everyone all buddy-buddy, huh. No thanks.

Lesson Start: Ugh, this sucks.

Lesson Finish: Yaaawn. That was a boring class, I already knew all that.

Battle Start: I can fight with more than just my fists and fangs.

Battle Won: Did you really think you could win against me?

GIFT CALENDAR 2023: “How will you be spending the day?” No plans worth mentioning. What, not what you were expecting? Well, too bad. The campus is completely covered in snow, so the best thing for me to do is just to get back to my dorm room and relax while solving some chess problems.

Birthday Story 1: My birthday isn’t anything special. It’s just the day I was born. …Well if you’re really saying you want to celebrate it, I won’t forcibly stop you. Presents are always welcome.

Birthday Story 2: What’d you want? …Ah, you came to celebrate my birthday. Then, I guess I’ll have you grill some meat for me, or something. You’ll have to make it exactly the way I want it. You said you wanted to celebrate me, right? I’ll let you keep trying until you get it down pat. I look forward to see how much I get to eat.

Birthday Story 3: So, you came to wish me a happy birthday, huh? Well, ain’t that admirable of you. So, what did you bring me, then? At the very least, you are presenting a gift to royalty. As such, I’m sure you’ve prepared a very fine gift. …Hey, don’t freeze up on me. Sheesh, jokes just fly over your head, huh. I’ll take it off your hands, so show me what you got behind your back, already.

Birthday Story 4: …Ugh. As I’m sure you can tell, I’m in the middle of a nap. If you need something from me, ask me later. If you just wanted to celebrate my birthday, a card woulda been plenty… But, fine. Here, hand it over. [Yuu startles] Whaddya mean, hand what over? …Obviously, I’m talking about my gift. I’m expecting it to be something good to make up for the rude awakening.

Requested by Anonymous.

[heizlut]

Promises To Keep

⟡ cw: none

⟡ tags: fem!reader, zayne, angst⇢comfort⇢smut, vague allusions to chapter 4 so slight spoiler warning?

⟡ 4.9k words (officially my longest fic!)

⟡ co-written with da bf @knihil everyone say thank you knihil!🖤

⟡ nsfw under the cut

⟡ m!list here

Zayne stood at his office window, looking out into the night. He was haunted by the memory of your grandma telling him to take care of you always; that it would do both of you some good. He lets out a sigh and runs his fingers through his dark hair, feeling frustrated at himself. Zayne has known you since you were young and he always held you close in his heart.

He wanted to run to you and hold you in his arms. To comfort you and see you smile again, but after what happened, you had told him you needed time to yourself and left without another word.

The nights seemed even longer to you as you wrestled with your grieving; your cries and sobs accompanying your solitary mourning. Your tears spilt from your eyes, falling on your blanket like the rain against your bedroom window. Everything feels so cold…

It had been too long since you'd last seen Zayne. It wasn’t always easy to find time to spend together with both your busy schedules, but even more so now that you refused to leave your apartment. You're the one who asked for space, the one who walked away from his open arms. You thought space was what you needed, but now you feel far more hurt than before. You grieve and you hurt, knowing you pushed away the one person who always wanted the best for you.

A knock on your door startles you from your sorrowful stupor. You sniffle and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt as you get up and make your way to the door. The knock sounds again, “I know you’re in there. Please… Just open the door.” Your chest tightens when you hear Zayne’s voice. His typically unemotional tone sounds like a holy choir to you, answering your subconscious pleas for his presence.

You crack open the door and look up at him, his hazel eyes meeting yours immediately. There’s a flash of uncharacteristic worry in Zayne’s eyes as he sees your tear-stained cheeks and he sighs, “Can you let me in?” You frown but nod, opening the door a little more so that he could step inside. You shut the door once he's inside and sit on your couch, holding your knees to your chest.

Zayne sits down beside you, leaving a little space between the two of you. You eyes are cast down to the floor as you sit silently and he looks at you, "Have you been taking care of yourself?" The way you pull your knees closer to your chest is all the answer he needs. Zayne lets out a deep breath, "Have you at least eaten today?" Your eyes finally meet his and you simply shake your head. He purses his lips and stands up, "I'll make you something then."

Your gaze trails after him and he heads to your kitchen. Zayne frowns when he opens your fridge to find only a few breakfast ingredients and nothing else. He pulls out the eggs and sausage and silently begins to prepare you a meal.

Sizzles and pops from the breakfast cooking in the pan are the only sounds in the apartment. Zayne finally breaks the silence, adjusting the ingredients in the pan with a spatula, "I know things have been hard lately, but you need to take care of-"

He's caught off guard by the feeling of your arms wrapped around his torso and your body pressed against his from behind, "What're you doing?" You hold him tighter and press your cheek against his back before speaking softly, voice weak and shaky from all the crying you had done earlier, "Thank you..." Zayne's body relaxes and he carefully plates your meal, struggling only slightly as you wouldn't let him go.

A ghost of a smile plays on his lips when he speaks again, "Come on. Let me go... You need to eat." You frown and bury your face into his back. Zayne breathes out a small laugh as he turns in your arms, facing you now. You frown up at him and he can't help but think how cute you look. He smooths down your hair, "I'll stay the night and let you hold me as long as you want, but only if you eat first."

You reluctantly let go and he smiles softly down at you, "There you go." Zayne holds the plate of breakfast food out to you, "Go on and eat now. Doctors orders." Your emotional demeanor cracks just a little at his half-playful words and you take the plate from him, "Fine, I'll eat." You sit yourself down at your table and take a small bite of the sausage and eggs. Your eyes close as you take in the flavor. It wasn't anything special, but it was the first meal you had eaten in a couple days.

Zayne sits across from you, watching as you finished off the rest of the food rather quickly, "It seems that this was definitely necessary..." His eyes soften, "I'm glad I stopped by." One corner of your lips curls into a hint of a smile and you nod, "...Me too." You move to take your dish to the sink but Zayne stops you, his voice low and serious, "Let me take care of you." Your heart flutters and you can only gawk at him as he takes the plate from you and puts it in the sink.

Turning back to face you, Zayne gives you an expectant look, "Well? What would you like now?" You play with the sleeves of your sweatshirt and you look up at him, speaking softly, "Can we just lay down and... talk?" He studies you as you speak, watching the way your sleeves partially cover your hands as your fingers pick at the hems, "Yes. I promised I would stay here if you ate and you did." He would've stayed whether you ate the food or not. All he cared about was making you happy again…

Zayne follows you to your bedroom, taking in the clothes that are scattered across your floor and your bed half-made, "Maybe I should try to stay for the weekend and help you clean up..." Your cheeks flush in embarrassment and you look away from him. "Don't be embarrassed", Zayne's deep voice brings your attention back to him, "I'm here to help. I always have been." You huff, "Yeah, as my doctor.." He gives you a disappointed look and takes you hand in his, "It's more than that. Don't act as though that's all we are to each other."

You frown as you eyes meet his hazel ones and you mutter, "Sorry..." He sits on your bed and pulls you to him, "Come here." You sit down next to him and look down at your hand in his. With his free hand, Zayne redirects your gaze back to him with his fingers against your jaw, "Look at me." He searches your eyes when you finally listen, "You mean more to me than I can properly express..." Zayne reaches forward and runs his fingers through your hair, "I made a promise to someone and I intend to keep it."

You absentmindedly lick your lips as your eyes trail down to his lips. Zayne takes notices and leans his face a little closer to yours and speaks in a hushed voice, "May I?" Your shining lips part as you nod, allowing him to move forward. His lips meet yours in the most gentle kiss, lingering on yours for a moment before he moves back; his thumb rubbing across your cheek, "It pains me to know that you've been keeping yourself here, stuck in your own grief..." You lean into his touch and take a deep breath, "I just need time, Zayne..."

He presses a kiss to your forehead, "I know. But I won't allow you to do this on your own anymore." Your heart swells. Zayne isn't usually one to outwardly express his emotions, but things were different now. He just wanted you to be happy again. He pulls you in for a tight embrace; muscular arms keeping you pressed against him. You relax in his arms, your head nuzzled into the crook of his neck and you breathe in his scent.

Zayne smooths your hair down lovingly and kisses the top on your head, "How about I prepare a bath for you? I want you to be able to relax." You think for a moment then nod, "Okay... I think that would be nice..." You raise your head to look up at him, "Thank you.." He gives you a subtle smile and releases you from his embrace, "Of course."

The sound of running water is soothing as the tub fills up, steam billowing over the edge and swirling around the bathroom. Zayne rummages through your bathroom cabinets, in search of anything that could make the bath more soothing for you. Finding what he was looking for, he straightens up, holding a bag of lavender bath salts and a scented candle. The handle squeaks when he turns off the water and little droplets drip from the spout.

You walk in as Zayne is putting in a scoop of the bath salts and you watch the little crystal-like grains float to the bottom. He speaks without looking at you as he closes the bag and set it on the counter, "The bath salts will help your muscles relax and soothe any other aching you may be experiencing." One corner of your lips twitch in slight amusement with the way he could go from being a loving boyfriend to your primary care physician.

Zayne continues on as he lights the vanilla scented candle for you, the warm glow reflecting on his face, "The scent of vanilla will help relax your mind, as well as reduce your heart rate and blood pressure." He finally looks to you with a raised eyebrow when he hears the softest laughter come from you, "Did I say something to amuse you?" He can hardly act stern when he finally sees the small smile that plays on your lips; the corners of his turn upwards, "Nevermind. It's good to see you smile again..."

You shift your weight on your feet as you feel the butterflies in your stomach, trying to allow yourself to feel happy amidst everything that has happened. It felt wrong and your smile slips. Zayne takes notice and looks concerned as he approaches you. He softly grips your chin and tilts your head up to his, "You are allowed to feel happiness. Do not try to convince yourself otherwise." You release a breath as you take in his words, "You're right... I'm sorry." He purses his lips, "Don't apologize." Zayne releases his grip only to caress your cheek, "Come on. I don't want the water to cool."

You nod and reach for the hem of your sweatshirt and Zayne looks away, stepping around you to leave the bathroom and give you privacy, but you catch his wrist, "Stay." He searches your features as if he was making sure you really wanted that. You look sincere and you speak softly, "Now that you're here, I... Don't want to be left alone anymore." Zayne's relaxes and nods once, "Then I'll stay."

With his answer, you let go of his wrist and lift your sweatshirt over your head, letting it drop to the tiled floor beneath you. Your breasts lift and fall with your motion, and Zayne swallows hard. You turn around and bend over slightly as you slip your sleep shorts and panties down your legs. He reflexively averts his gaze even though he had seen you bare before, underneath him and sharing heavy breaths.

You step into the tub of steaming water, the tension visibly leaving your body as you settle in. Zayne finally steals a glance at you, hazel eyes wandering from your relaxed face to the way the water rippled around your breasts to the rhythm of your slow breathing. You crack open one eye and peek at him, chuckling softly to yourself when you catch where his gaze is. The soft sound of your laughter snaps him out of it and he looks away, clearing his throat, "I apologize. I shouldn't-"

You shush him, opening your eyes fully now, "Now you're the one apologizing. It's not necessary." He chews at the inside of his cheek and frowns, "I know, but... Still. You're still in the grieving process and here I am being... inappropriate." This pulls a full laugh from you and you sit up a little straighter; the warm water sloshing from the disturbance; breasts now resting on top of the water.

The sound of your laughter and the better view of your breasts sends tingles straight to his heart and down to the bulge he was beginning to sport under his slacks. Zayne huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose, "There you go laughing again when I'm trying to be serious..." Your laughter dies down and you smile softly, extending your hand towards him, "Come here..." He looks down at your hand and then back to your face as he ponders your request.

With a heavy sigh, he comes to you, kneeling down by the side of the tub, "What do you need?" You keep your hand open, palm facing upwards and give him a small pout. Zayne now knows exactly what you're asking for. He looks a bit annoyed, but truthfully he didn't mind doing this for you whenever you requested. He rests his jaw in your palm and his hazel eyes meet yours, "Are you happy now?"

You nod with a little smile as he gives a ghost of his own and leans back again, "I think you've been in there long enough. If you stay much longer, you'll dehydrate." Without waiting for a response from you, Zayne stands back up and grabs your towel from the hook and holds it open for you. You let out a breath as you carefully rise up, not wanting to slip. Zayne wraps the towel around your body and without warning, swoops you up bridal style, making you gasp, "Zayne!"

He looks down at you with a confused expression as if what he did was a perfectly normal thing to do, "What?" You pout as he holds you closer, taking you back to the bedroom, "A little warning would've been nice..." Zayne ignores your comment and lowers your legs first to let you stand on your own. You adjust the towel around your body, turning your back to him, and go to grab a fresh set of pajamas. Zayne watches you closely as you move; his cock stirring in his slacks once again.

As soon as your towel drops to the ground, he's fighting the urge to to take you where you stand. You slip on one of his oversized sweatshirts that you had stolen borrowed from him and then turn to face him. He puts on a disapproving face, even though on the inside Zayne felt his heart skip, "My sweatshirt... You do realize I have been looking everywhere for that one right?" You crack a sheepish grin, "Oops?" Zayne huffs out a breath, "It's fine." Then he mutters, "It looks better on you anyways..."

You smile a little at his comment and sit on the bed, "You know.. You still have some clothes here. If you're going to stay you should change too. I washed them for you." Zayne raises a brow at that, about to make a teasing remark about you being able to wash his clothes but not the ones scattered across your floor, but he holds his tongue. Now was not the right moment to make a comment about that now that he had you feeling a bit better.

Instead he nods and and turns to find his clothes folded neatly on top of your dresser. Grabbing a pair of sweats and a plain white t-shirt, he heads to your bathroom to change, "One moment." You watch as he closes the bathroom door behind him, still open just a crack. You can't help but peek at him as he undresses from his formal work attire, absentmindedly licking your lips as your eyes trail down his form.

He slips the clean, comfortable clothes on and comes back out to you, taking note of the slight blush of your cheeks, "Are you feeling sick?" Zayne presses the back of his hand against your forehead. You laugh softly and grab his wrist and press a kiss to his palm, "I'm not sick." The feeling of your kiss lingers on his palm once you release him, "That's good then..."

You lay back on the mattress and look up at the ceiling and then sigh, looking back to Zayne, "I thought you said you'd lay with me?" He gives a hint of a smile and lays down beside you, propping himself up with his hand as he faces you. You both stay silent for a moment, simply taking in each other's presence before Zayne is the first one to speak, "Tell me, what more can I do to make you feel better?"

You turn your body towards him, eyes trailing down from his eyes to his lips and lingering for a moment, “Just… hold me.” The slightest smile appears in his lips and he pulls you close. His hand rests on the back of your head as your face nuzzles into his chest.

Zayne presses three slow little kisses to the top of your head, breathing in your scent. “I’ve got you and I’m never going anywhere”, his voice comes out hushed with a hint of sentimentality that makes your heart swell in your chest.

You let out a small breath, pressing yourself impossibly closer against his body, wishing you could just melt into him. As his arms tighten around you, the realization that you're not the only one with an aching wish hits you.

Surprised, you unearth your face from his chest only to be met by the sensation of his lips upon yours. You detect the gentleness, the care and longing he feels for you through the kiss… And something more.

There's a hunger you can taste in his embrace, and it takes everything in you not to moan out in response. Zayne's cock twitches beneath his sweats and he lets a small groan escape from his lips against yours. The sound alone has arousal pooling between your legs and your tongue prods against his before finding a sensual rhythm.

His hands begin to wander down your body and rest on your ass as he gives it a gentle squeeze, grinding his clothed cock against you. Zayne pulls back just enough to speak huskily, "Tell me to stop and I will." All you can do is shake your head, not trusting your voice enough to form proper words in this moment.

Right now, all you wanted was to lose yourself in him, to forget everything you've been through up until this moment. All that mattered was you and Zayne and your burning need for him.

A small smirk plays on his lips and he adjusts his position, now with you underneath him. Your eyes lock onto his, your lips parted slightly in a breathless and wordless need. "You don't need to say anything, sweetheart...", Zayne starts, leaning down as he presses a soft kiss to your temple, "I told you I would take care of you and that's a promise I will always keep."

The cutest little whimper escapes your lips, making him let out a soft chuckle as his hands trail up under your sweatshirt, "It seems I have quite the effect on you..." Your back arches to met his touch and his thumbs brush over your hardened nipples. "That's it, sweetheart. Just relax and enjoy this."

You couldn't ignore the request, not that you wanted to anyways. Zayne's calloused hands felt electric against your heated skin, sending a pleasurable shiver up your spine and straight to your core. God, just this is enough to have your entrance clenching for him.

The process of grieving, cocooned in your solitude and away from Zayne almost made you forget how badly your body needed him. Almost. As if he can sense your burning need, one of his hands trails down your abdomen and rests on your thigh. His fingertips begin to lightly trace towards your soaking pussy, Zayne's off hand still molding around the swell of your breast, "Go on and spread your legs for me, love. Let me make you feel better..."

Your breath hitches and you obey his gentle command, spreading your legs apart and exposing your needy hole to him. Zayne's hot breath fans over your lips as a small smile plays on his, "Oh, so you can follow instructions..." You would've rolled your eyes as you usually would at a playful comment like that from him, but this wasn't under normal circumstances. You were way too needy for him right now and it was apparent in the soft little whine that comes out.

Zayne's fingers inch towards where you're aching for his touch and your hips instinctively raise up. Your eyes almost roll all the way back the second his thumb grazes against your clit and begins to move in slow circles, drawing out a moan from your lips.

Your exclamation of pleasure is swallowed by him as his lips seal around yours, Zayne's thumb now moving with far more vigor. Both of you are locked in a dance of sensuality, tasting each other's breaths and sounds as he unrelentingly draws out every drop of your want.

“You’re always so beautiful…”, Zayne breathes out, his thumb now slick from your arousal. You do your best to keep your eyes on his, but everything feels so hazy in the best of ways. All because of him, always because of him. Before you can even beg him for more, he nips lightly at your bottom lip and his voice comes out husky, “Please tell me I can take you right here, right now…”

He leans back just enough that his lips still graze yours as his hazel eyes search yours to make sure you’re still doing okay. He would do anything for you. He would even stop everything if you asked him to despite his hardened cock throbbing with need for you and you alone.

All you can manage is a small nod of your head and that’s all it takes for him to begin to tug down his sweats. But then he pauses, letting out a gruff sigh earning him a confused and dazed look from you. Seeing the look in your eyes, a soft hint of a smile plays on his lips, it's reassuring, “This isn’t about me right now, my love. This is about making you feel better and here I was about to be selfish.”

You paused for a moment and let out a huff of laughter, “You can be sel-“ Your words are interrupted by his quick readjustment of position and his mouth suddenly around your clit.

You suck in a sharp breath, your head tilts up against the plush pillow as your pretty lips part in pleasure. Zayne’s tongue flicks out as he begins to lap at your clit with gentle measure and just enough pressure to leave you whining for more friction.

Your hips buck slightly to meet his movements as his tongue slides between your folds and laps up your sweet arousal. If it was up to him, he would’ve stayed there all night, perfectly content to focus on your pleasure alone, but you wanted… no. You needed more. Your fingers slide into his soft dark hair, giving it a gentle tug to draw his attention to you.

Reluctantly, Zayne’s eyes meet yours once more, but not before giving your clit a little lick, “What is it, love?” You let out a breath that conveys your neediness more than any words ever could and Zayne knows you well enough to know exactly what you’re asking for.

Zayne gives a small smirk as he sits up, his eyes locked on yours, and tugs down his sweats, freeing his thick and throbbing length. Precum glistens on the tip and so much has gathered that it begins to drip down in a pearlescent strand that has you licking your lips.

Zayne’s large hand strokes his cock in a tantalizing motion that you can’t take your eyes off of. Slowly, he lowers himself once more and you spread your legs a little wider to accommodate his toned frame. His dripping tip rubs against your entrance, catching lightly on your clit which makes you draw in a breath.

“Tell me if it gets to be too much”, Zayne breathes out lowly before gently breaching your tight, slick walls. His nose scrunches up in pleasure as he lets out a groan. The feeling of being filled up by him feels heavenly and your mind immediately goes blank.

“Fuck, sweetheart… I swear you were made for me and me alone”, Zayne growls out softly. Once he’s fully inside, stretching you out so perfectly, he relaxes against you. His toned chest presses against your breasts and his nose nuzzles against yours, “You’re so perfect…” Everything about this moment is perfection. It’s something you didn’t even realize how much you missed in your time away from him until this very moment.

Zayne begins to move in a slow rhythm that has you feeling every inch of him, the tip of his leaking cock pressing into the deepest part of you and the thickness of his length that fills you in a way that makes you feel as though you’re finally complete.

Zayne presses little kisses against your lips as he makes love to you in the sweetest way. All he cares about is your comfort, pleasure, and happiness. He always has and always will be your sword and shield. In the days where you feel as if the world itself is hellbent on delivering a rain of sorrow upon your soul, Zayne will brave the downpour alongside you. In the coldest of nights, his embrace will continue to serve you as the warmest suit of armor. His love for you is ultimate. You are his reason.

Your voice breaks, the sound that leaps from your throat being an emotional mix of a sob and a moan. “Zayne, I-I need you.” You swear you can feel his cock throb against your upper walls in response to your declaration. Through all of your shared history, you can't recall a single time where you've produced such a raw profession of love. And, as your eyes flutter open to meet his, you know he understands the same.

“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere”, Zayne whispers against your lips, “Not now, not ever.” Before you can even form a response of your own, his lips seal around yours in the most tender of kisses. His hips follow suit, rolling and meeting your own with the most passionate and loving of movements. You moan into his mouth, breathing out into him as he breathes you in.

Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. His skin against yours, his cock drooling within your clenching walls, the taste of his moans upon your eternally wanting mouth… You feel yourself becoming one with Zayne. Your tight walls begin to squeeze around his cock, signaling how close you were to your end.

“Fuck…”, Zayne growls out in response to the feeling, thrusting a little harder as his cock throbs with the need to cum. But, again, this wasn’t about him. His priority is you.

Zayne reaches down and begins to thumb your clit in quick but measured circles, “Cum for me, my love. I need to feel you cum around my cock.” His breathing is labored as he desperately tries to hold back from filling you with his cum. He’s so desperate to bring you to your own orgasm before he allows himself to cum.

With a sweet cry from your swollen, kissed lips, you come undone around his thick length. Your walls pulsate around his cock, causing Zayne to bury his face into your neck with a groan. He can’t hold back any longer as his cock begins to throb wildly and thick ropes of cum spill inside of you. The feeling of his hot seed pooling inside of you, his breath pelting your sensitive neck…

You lose yourself to the torrent of pleasure that gushes from between your legs. “I love you…”, you breathe your need for him to life as you both simultaneously reach your peak. Zayne’s body relaxes on top of yours, his cock still nestled inside your soaked pussy.

You both lay there for a moment. Your hearts are both beating wildly, yet somehow still in sync. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, your nose, and then your lips before he speaks so softly and full of warmth, “I’ll always be here for you, my love.”

You feel your eyelids grow heavy, a grand warmth soothing every nerve in your body. Every ounce of love that Zayne houses within his heart has poured into you, and for the first time in your life, you accept it all without pretext. As your eyes close and before the soothing stillness of sleep takes you, a final sentence falls from his lips.

“I promise.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆

a/n: fun fact, i started this back in march and lost touch with it but HERE WE ARE!

[love-of-the-red-star]

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter six: A place to belong

(Unedited, like the rest of the series)

Outer space had always been cold.

Your body didn’t suffer the effects of the temperature, yet you still felt the chill of the void on your skin. The stars and their dusts glowed around you, decorating your space in the most beautiful way that your human self could never dream of.

You thought of your family in your previous life and wondered how they were, if they were alright, if they were eating well and living well.

You also came to realize you weren’t homesick at all.

Materializing in the express and glancing at Welt made you feel a humane sense of relief in knowing you aren’t the only one who wanted to badly convey that you were safe in this new world you resided in.

Unlike Welt though, you don’t have the luxury of ever returning to what once was, or have the choice in having the best of both worlds. Your existence was cemented in this world permanently the moment you became the embodiment of a concept and a being no longer human.

You can’t turn back. It’s a little funny that though you represented freedom, you don’t have the luxury of ever returning to something simpler. You did not have the freedom to return to be the being you once were.

You can emulate human expressions, you can still feel, but you know you’re not really seeing or feeling things the way a human would anymore.

You’re not disturbed by this in the slightest.

You snapped out of your thoughts and walked towards your room then thought of how you’d decorate it— maybe something similar to a bachelor pad? No, Pompom would not be a fan. Maybe something similar to the archives? No, you’d be stealing Dan Heng’s shine.

Then you remembered cozy cabins, quilts, books, all things comfortable and got an idea.

You walked out of your room to seek Pompom and Himeko, ready to lay out your idea in personalizing that little space inside of this train— now that you think of it, it’s more of a house than anything else.

You realized having a home feels comforting more than it ought to be. As an Aeon, your home was the cosmos, the space being your cradle and the nebulas your walls; but the cosmos is hollow and cold, and it did not provide the warmth of the train, or the warmth only humans had.

While you could not go back to being what you were before, you at least had a choice in what your home should be, and what you could do.

“Himeko.” You called out to her, and she turned to you, smiling like you’re a kid that wants her company. “I have ideas to personalize my room, would you be fine if I were to be a bit loud in there for a bit?”

“I don’t mind, though you should ask Dan Heng-“

“I’m fine with it.” Dan Heng answered for her, sitting on a chair and tasting one of her coffee cups— you bit the urge to grimace at the sheer will he had to even drink that.

“Great! I’ll start when we’re on our next stop.” You said with a grin. “Herta got something heavy for us to do right? Leave it to me, think of it as a thank you and a vacation of some sorts.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to burden you.” She sounded cautious almost, even after more than eight years.

“It won’t be much. Besides, you do own this train, think of it as a courtesy— like a tenant paying rent.” You stated, “I shared this space with you for more than eight years now and I’m modifying an area to my liking, it’s only fair if you get something in return in exchange right?”

Her eyes widened, seemingly surprised. She parted her lips, as if wanting to say something but you gently shushed her, knowing what it is she wanted to say. You’ve already given your protection and blessing to the express— you didn’t even need to help, but you want to.

“[Name].” She sighed fondly. “You can do as you wish, you don’t need permission from me or anyone else.”

“Oh, isn’t asking permission how things work in a shared space though?” You tilted your head, frowning. “I know I’ve done pretty unsavory things outside of this train,” you twirled a strand of your hair, looking away as you felt Dan Heng’s questioning stare on you. “But I don’t mind having to go back and forth with this every time I want to do something inside of it. it’d be unfair for everyone here if I don’t consider their feelings in the matter, or warning them ahead of time to what I will be doing.”

“Ah, I see.” She said, nodding to let you know she understood your point with a relieved and fond smile on her face. “Very well then. I’ll tell Welt you’ll be going to fetch the materials Herta asked for on your own.”

“We’ll have fun next time I promise— ugh if only Void was dead so I could use his body.” That sounded wrong, but soulium is great to use for whatever reason— be it a weapon, a snowboard, or a pan. “Hey uh before we land…. please tell Welt that (Censored).”

With those words, you left, disintegrating from the activation of a space anchor as you saw the planet where the materials on Herta’s list were particularly abundant.

Dan Heng for once looked a little horrified, Himeko however could only sigh at your antics.

What even was your suggestion? Well, it involves using Void as a snowboard, and using his “son” as the brakes.

Those words would be horrifying enough to hear if you were a man.

“Don’t worry, they won’t do that to you.” Himeko said in an attempt to reassure him. Although it worked, the words still rang through his head.

———————————

As you hummed and gathered the materials after killing a couple of Nanook’s children, you heard bells, then giggling.

You sighed. “You’re not very subtle in showing your amusement for the shit I do you know?”

You could feel them smiling, before multitudes of masks enter your vision and the sound of party balloons fill the space at the corner of your eyes.

The Elation morphs into a human-like shape like you, and you’re not surprised to find out whose form they took.

Familiar green eyes, and dark hair. Of course it would be Belobog’s conman this time— the last time Aha had showed themselves to you they took on the form of Hanabi when you were in some planet with Boothill some years ago.

“Of course! It’s rude to greet a friend without announcing my presence.” They grinned, their smile stretching a little wider than what a normal human could smile. You think this would have utterly creeped you out had you been a human.

“Good to see you again, Aha.” You said.

“And you are still the same old you.” They poked your nose. “What fun are you going to pull next I wonder?” They jeered.

“None of your business— I didn’t think you cared. I was under the assumption that as long as you are elated, then all is well.” Aha laughed at your intentional wording, slapping their knee as they wheezed too loudly.

“This is why you are my good friend.” They pinched your cheeks. “To think you’d offer all sides of a theater just like this, did you enjoy it when you were behind the safety of your screen too?”

What the fuck.

“What do you mean by that?” You innocently prodded, Aha merely kept their grin wide like a Cheshire Cat, their form morphing into something.. wrong, off, inelegant and disproportionate if you looked closer.

“Oh you know well what I am talking about, Little Libertas.” They said. “A reborn Aeon from a realm none of us can reach, how amusing indeed.” their eyes widened, pupils blown as they confirmed your suspicion. Aha had no reason to speak of lies to you for they were not human.

“Ugh.” You groaned. “Of course you’d break the fourth wall.” You said softly as you went back to picking up the materials with ease.

“Yet you still laugh whenever I rickroll you.”

“Fair.”

Aha hummed, their features returning back to normal seeing as it didn’t get a reaction out of you as they wanted.

“I would like to watch you more.” They said to you. “You are amusing.”

You made a face, and they laughed as they slowly but surely disappeared.

“Until next time little friend.”

You sighed, looking at the materials inside of the sack before dragging it with you and walking to a space anchor.

You still have a room to renovate after all.

—————————-

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII (HERE), Part VIII, …….

Interludes: one, two…..

I’m still navigating on how I could properly write this fic, so when I eventually edit it please expect minor or major changes to how things would function because we know HSR lore isn’t that concrete yet.

I would also like to thank everyone for their love and support for this series, I love everyone’s praises towards this— I was initially hesitant to publish it, but I’m glad I did.

See you on the next installation!

[thoughtsonkm]

Goodbye, for now

BABY? HONEY? BOYFRIEND SHOT? Jikook you're too much!

This episode was truly the best way to end the show, maybe even the best episode of the series. (Neck in neck with episode 2 of course) The way they enjoyed it so much but were also so sad it was over. The hot tension all around, the soft boyfriends mood who can't stop flirting and name calling each other with the most low-key couple-like sweet names. They could not stop laughing, they could not stop touching and they couldn't stop being hilarious without even trying.

~

SK Spotify daily chart end of November 2023 :

Jimin Jungkook Jimin Jungkook Jimin Jimin

~

It would be such a full circle moment if Jimin posted the boyfriend photo (which won't happen). Would almost be like a soft launch of some sort.

Not the underwear too?? Gosh I love my little gay freaks!! (didn't understand why Jimin would quote their 'yet another inner joke meme' right at that moment but I've learned to not question their inner workings)

~

Sorry but i have to be pretty one last time and say that I kinda had enough of seeing so much from the crew around or even in Jikook's shots and angles. It breaks the fourth wall a little too much and ruins the whole bubble idea. Ok I'm done lol

~

Returning to the issue at hand, the "seeing the beds for the first time" scene keeps getting funnier and funnier. As if they don't already have designated sides of the bed 😏

~

Ah the never ending bickering gives me life. Peep the half korean half english talk when they playfully get on each others nerves 👀😂

I better not speak on the scuzzi jacuzzi shenanigans cause otherwise.. Let's just say the photo speaks for itself..

NO YOU KNOW WHAT IMMA SPEAK. We all know that jacuzzi time is always intimate, relaxing and personal for people that's why I wish Jikook had enjoyed it fully without cameras. Yes I'm pissed on their behalf, that they had to film the whole thing with 382929 different angles. lol

His face is literally saying "oh so you're really gonna make me do it huh? if I was in your place I would've folded immediately and would've never let you go through with it!!" 😂

~

No one ever:

Jikook every 2sec : HONEY OH HONEY

(I was actually listening to the song while writing this and idk why it's so funny to me even tho it's a sad love ballad)

~

They must've loved getting the chance to at least see one episode of the show, plus the idea of watching it together..

Jungkook being so entertained by it meanwhile Jimin being mortified about half of the things that happened. HILARIOUS

HAHAHHAHAHA all parties were concerned if they'd be able to pull it off, I can't

BEST BELIEVE they're always gonna find a way to touch. Consciously or unconsciously.

~

This show made me realize that my favourite thing ever is Jk making food for Jimin, then making him hysterically laugh and therefore getting to hear Jimin's adorable giggles.

~

"Hello it is I the one and only, the only one who can touch Jimin's head ble ble ble ble" - JK

Jk was like: How can you imagine Jimin without me in your dream? Are you crazy? What is this delusional dream world you live in Jin hyung??

~

Tbh it's so meaningful and a huge thing saying that these trips were literally the best trips of your life. I think the statement almost went over people's heads.

I can't get enough of Jimin looking pretty and cuddly and Jungkook's immediate thought being: I HAVE TO FILM YOU

Them saying they can do a reboot when they come back gave me some hope that maybe just maybe this is not the end of AYS 😭

The ending bonus clip left me fulfilled but also sad and with goosebumps all over.

Thank you Jimin & Jungkook for letting us peek into this trip and getting to witness some of your precious moments.

Signing off, J&J 🥹

Ps. So I'm guessing the 52 minute video that comes with the photobook is probably the 3 bts videos combined that they've been reviewing for 48392 months right?

[trashland-llamas]

Mother-Hen

x gender neutral! reader

Reader who has those over the top mother-hen vibes colliding with the grumpy asshole that is Logan Howlett. Who at first avoids Reader like the plague. Growling out how he wants nothing to do with them. To which they don't take any of it to heart, having done this dance a dozen times over.

Seeing it for it was. He didn't want anyone to get close as it meant caring and if he cared about someone, it could then be used against him. And that was simply more unnecessary heartbreak to drown in a bottle of whiskey over. Oh, but it doesn't stop Reader from bulldozing that down.

It all starts when Logan brings a relatively new mutant down to their room instead of the infirmary after a group mission. 'Scared of hospitals and the like. You were the next best thing,' he gruffs out. Seeing the extent of the injuries from how torn up the mutant's clothes are, Reader clears the table, grabbing their first aid kit. Logan laid them down.

Watching from the sidelines as Reader prepares a needle and thread, stitching the mutant's skin together. 'Your turn,' Reader wets a rag to get rid of the dried blood around Logan's already healed wounds. 'I can do that myself.' Too tired to fight against it altogether, Logan takes the rag. 'Thank you, now go. I'll watch over the kiddo.' Their foot now in the door. Letting him leave to the shadows.

The next time they cross paths is late at night when Logan’s abruptly awoken by a nightmare. Deciding to go take a ride on his motorbike when he smells spices in the air. His nose leads him to the kitchen where he sees Reader cooking up a large pot of soup. Their hair tied up into a lump, resting on the nape of their neck. Sleeves rolled up as they chopped vegetables and chicken to go into the broth. The sick season was close upon them.

'Why are you still up, cooking soup?' Logan spoke up after leaning against the wall, his tone accusatory. 'Because of how often everyone forgets to eat. Plus sometimes after missions, it's nice to have something you can just heat up.' Reader answers, watching out of the corner of their eyes as Logan sits down.

'Not to pry, but what's keeping you up?' They had always thought he had a weariness to his bones, outside of the added adamantium. ‘Couldn’t sleep,’ comes his short reply. Not really wanting to talk about it. ‘Touchy subject, got it. Well, you can stay if you like and I can dish you out a bowl when it’s ready. Need someone as a taste tester anyways.’

Logan doesn't respond but ultimately stays, the coziness of the kitchen was better than how he'd feel, standing alone, under the stars. Genuinely desiring company for once; Reader's company.

'Here you go,' pushing a bowl towards him. 'Thanks,' not bothering to blow on the still hot soup. Reader nods, going back to packaging the soup in deli containers. Moving stuff in the fridge around to make room. Logan, after finishing his bowl, takes up the mantle of cleaning the dishes.

Waving away Reader's 'oh, you don't have to do that.' Saying that he wanted to. That and his calloused hands were accustomed to manual labor. It was the least he could do in exchange for some well cooked food, as shown by the grin on his face.

Logan realizes they’ve wormed their way into his heart when he them passed out cold on the couch in the common room. Chuffed that at the very least, Reader seemed to have been taking a moment of relaxation for themselves. The battered old tome he had lent to them had fallen to ground mid-reading.

Their neck at an awkward angle that would definitely hurt in the morning. ‘Really got yourself into a pickle here.’ Taking a minute to argue with himself, running the pros and cons of what he was about to do. Cause yes, he could simply toss a blanket over them and call it a day yet his gut was telling him that wasn’t enough.

‘C’mon, wake up bubs.’ Jostling them by the shoulders, helping them up to a standing position as they’re still half asleep and groggy. ‘Logan?’ Hands guiding them by the shoulders. ‘Yea, it’s me.’

Not realizing in their state that Logan was guiding them towards his room and not theirs. That is until they see all the Americana type decor. ‘What are we doing in your room?’

‘Was closer…the common room’s no place to get sleep with all the busybodies trudging in and out. That and your neck looked like it was killing you.’ Explaining like it was obvious. Sitting on his usual side of the bed, Logan held up the duvet. A silent way of telling Reader to get in.

Too tired to argue with how warm and cozy the atmosphere is, they oblige. Climbing over to rest their head on Logan’s chest. His heartbeat easily lulls them back to sleep.

[honeygrahambitch]

"Careful with-" Hannibal started but it was too late.

Will didn't even have a reaction. He watched his hand, now covered in the liquid wax from the freshly extinguished scented candle.

"Oh." He said as the burning sensation started to sink in. Hannibal grabbed his arm and dragged him into the kitchen, right over the sink. He turned on the cold water and let it run over Will's flesh.

"It's fine." Will said, no longer having any feeling in his hand. Not because of the wax but because of the high pressure of the cold water.

"You need to be more careful, darling." Hannibal said as he turned off the water and brought Will's hand to his lips.

"Now it's fixed." Will concluded and smiled. The smile was less mischievous than he intended it to be, and a bit nostalgic.

"What's wrong?" Hannibal asked, recognizing the sudden change in his glance.

"I burnt myself two other times in my life. First time was when I was very young and decided I could make soup for my parents. My mother was sick and my father drunk most likely. I couldn't lift the pot by myself and i ended up spilling hot water everywhere." Will said. "My effort was not appreciated, I basically had to sleep next to the sheep that night."

"Because your parents made you sleep outside as punishment?"

"No, my dad got so angry that the only way to escape from being beaten was to hide among the sheep."

Hannibal's expression visibly changed. He kissed Will's hand again. "And the second time?"

"Molly accidentally knocked over her cup of tea. My hand was in the way."

Now Hannibal didn't even try to hide his reaction. The previous concern in his eyes slowly turned into hatred.

"But at least she did something about it, I assume?"

"Not really, she was rushing to go to work. She was also on the phone. I am not even sure she noticed." Will answered.

What an incompetent, Hannibal thought to himself. To be married to Will and to be so neglecting and careless. That woman did not see him as a god that she was supposed to worship. Hannibal couldn't comprehend that.

"Thank you." He nodded towards the sink.

"Of course. I do not intend for any inch of your body to go through anything unnecessary that can damage it, mylimasis. Your skin is perfect. And," Hannibal continued, "unlike the other people from your life, I want you to feel safe and loved."

Will opened his mouth to say something but Hannibal stopped him. "It's not the moment to mention the scars on your forehead and abs."

Will smiled.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Rich for a Night

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!detective!reader

Summary: To catch a thief targeting wealthy couples, you go undercover with your husband Deacon.

Warnings: fluff, Deacon & r are held at gunpoint, a Bugatti gets wrecked :(

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Picture from Pinterest (1x19 "Source")

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“It doesn’t make any sense,” you lament. “The robberies always occur after big events, dinners, charity galas, but there’s no other connection.”

“Catering company?” your desk neighbor suggests.

“Different for every event. No one worker has been at every event. Planners have alibis, there’s no similarity in looks or where victims live, even banks. The only lead we have is wealthy couples getting robbed, sometimes at gunpoint, after an event.”

You drop your head into your hands as you reconsider the entire case. You’ve looked through every guest list, and everyone has alibied out, even though only a few couples overlapped and attended every event. They got robbed, too, as it turns out. The first two robberies had a connection: they both banked at the same place, but after that, the connection disappeared.

“It has to be someone near the events,” you murmur. “Maybe it’s someone who has access to Los Angeles socialite calendars and is just hanging around the events and picking people at random.”

Your phone rings, and you sigh before you answer, “Detective Kay.”

“Detective, there’s been a murder,” the caller says.

“Let me get you someone in homicide.”

“No, this is related to your burglary case. Or at least that’s what the homicide detective thinks. It looks like a robbery gone wrong.”

“What’s the address?” you ask as you pick up your cell phone and keys. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

On the drive into the hills, you add this new twist to your thoughts on the case. You agree that this location, the schedule, and everything about the setting of the crime match your investigation. The murder is either a progression or a mistake. Maybe the burglar was interrupted, or the victim tried to stop him. Before you can create too many theories, you arrive at the scene and flash your badge to enter the house.

“What have we got?” you ask the homicide detective surveying the scene.

“Forensics is going over everything now, but it doesn’t look like anything was taken. Single gunshot to the chest was our cause of death.”

“Nothing was taken?” you repeat. “Then why do you think this is related to the thefts?”

“Because of that,” he answers, squatting as he points under the makeup vanity. “A bag filled with jewelry pushed just out of reach. Almost like a dying woman was trying to protect herself and her home.”

“What else did you find?”

“Not much. Seems like this happened pretty quickly. Alarm was disabled at eleven-oh-five p.m.”

“After the murder mystery theater on the yacht,” you add. “Date night gold for the rich.”

“Hence, why we think this is your case, not ours. They’ll try to recover the bullet during the autopsy and run ballistics.”

“Until then, it’s mine to decipher. Thanks, detective.”

“Could I make one suggestion?” he inquires as he removes his gloves. You nod, and he says, “This seems like the perfect opportunity for a UC. Even if you don’t come face-to-face with the burglar, you get to know a bit more about the victims.”

“Even more if you go undercover yourself,” your partner adds as she walks into the house. “Progression or accident?” she asks, pointing to the victim.

“I can’t go undercover,” you argue.

“Why not? You get to play dress up. Plus, you’ve got a tactically trained and incredibly attractive husband you could take with you. No one would question your right to be there with Deac’s old money vibe and your, well, everything.”

You look around the scene, a luxury environment as an outward acknowledgement of all the victim worked for, or as it may be, didn’t work for, and decide it truly is your best option.

“I need a Rolex.”

Browsing the rows of the evidence locker with a small box in your hand, you wonder why so many rich people get arrested. So far, you’ve gathered a Rolex Daytona worth at least $100,000 and three pairs of sunglasses from Cartier, Ray Ban, and Dolce and Gabbana.

“Perfect,” you whisper as you find an envelope with a Tiffany ring and a pure obsidian band.

With these accessories and the dresses your contact who works with the UC division is procuring for you, you do not doubt that you will fit in. You still need a car, but you know just the people to ask about that.

“I need to check these out, Ally,” you request as you slide the evidence onto a desk. “For case 9212024.”

“No problem,” she answers as she begins logging case numbers and photos into her computer. “Who’s the ring for?”

“My husband.”

“I pity the criminals you’re after.”

“At least they’ll get a nice view while we put the cuffs on.”

“What are you doing here?” Rocker asks as you enter SWAT HQ.

“Lovely to see you too, Donovan,” you reply with a smile. “Do you greet your wife like that?”

Rocker shrugs and hugs you quickly before he directs you to where 20 Squad is reviewing warrants.

“Sergeant Kay,” you call as you enter.

“Oh, hi!” Street greets.

“This is a surprise,” Deacon says as he moves around Street to hug you.

“I have something for you,” you begin. You pull the obsidian ring from your pocket and lift the Cartier aviators from your side. “A proposal.”

“Is this a married couple thing or am I just confused?” Street whispers.

“You don’t want me to answer that, playboy,” Luca replies, slapping his back.

“Why?” Deacon questions, smiling even as he narrows his eyes at you.

“It’s just a date,” you promise.

“To do what?”

“I’m still working the string of burglaries targeting rich couples. We’ve got tiny leads that add to enough of a clue that I want to go undercover at the next big event to try to find something. I have to work faster because a woman was killed during a robbery last night.”

“Why not take someone more familiar with the case?”

“Do it, Deac,” Street whispers. “Just for the watch.”

“What watch?” Deacon asks.

You lift your hand to show the Rolex Daytona hanging loosely around your wrist. “There’s a look to people like this. I’ve got everything except a date right now, and you’re the best option for more reasons than I can list, Deac. If you can’t, I get it.”

“No, I want to,” he states, taking the sunglasses from your hand and sliding them onto his face. “Let’s catch a burglar.”

“Oh, that’s just not fair,” Street complains.

“Street,” you call. “I need something from you and Luca too.”

“Alright,” you announce after you secure your earrings. “We just moved here from New York, have our accounts set up, moved into a newly renovated house in the hills and are scoping out the local charities because we’re budding philanthropists.”

“And luring a thief,” Deacon adds as he gently tugs the strap of your dress to straighten your neckline.

“Mostly that.”

“I’m following your lead tonight, detective.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Your ride is here,” Street says on the other side of your door. “And you’re welcome, but don’t get used to it. Luca and I may be brilliant, but we’re not get a free Bugatti loaner every week brilliant.”

“I never said it had to be a Bugatti,” you whisper to Deacon.

“I can hear you, ya know,” Street calls. “You are wearing a wire. So, keep it PG, Deac.”

Deacon smiles as he leans toward the tiny microphone hidden in the seam of your dress strap and answers, “10-4, good buddy.”

Street groans, and you gently push Deacon’s shoulders to straighten his tie. He looks good, though you expected no less.

“Let’s be rich for a night.”

“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Napier,” the chauffeur greets as he opens your door. “Beautiful car. It's number 17,” he adds as he hands Deacon the card to pick up the car after the event. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you,” Deacon answers, nodding as he shakes the man’s hand and passes a $50.

You wait on the curb as Deacon rounds the back of the Bugatti and wraps his arm around your waist.

“If he scratches that car, Street will kill me,” you say through your smile.

“Good thing it’s not Street’s car,” Deacon replies. “Let’s go, Mrs. Napier.”

You smile while you loop your arm around Deacon’s bicep and follow him into the concert hall. Innumerable couples are finding their seats and milling around the open area of the hall as they discuss charities, recent events, and bank account balances. With Deacon, you have no concern about looking out of place, and your confidence is assured when three different women look over at him. One of which looks away from her husband to do so.

“Good evening,” a woman greets, smiling as she approaches you. “My name is Andrea Campbell and I’m hosting this evening’s event. Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but I don’t recall meeting you.”

“No, ma’am, you haven’t,” Deacon says, carefully extracting his arm from your hold as he offers to shake her hand. “I’m Dan Napier and this is my wife. We just moved here from upstate New York and wanted to see the charities of Los Angeles.”

“Oh, how wonderful! Mrs. Napier, I am an advocate for women in philanthropy, so if you have any questions please do not hesitate to contact me. I truly hope you enjoy this evening’s show and the presentation.”

“Thank you,” you offer before Andrea is called away. Once she’s out of earshot, you stifle a laugh and whisper, “I’m surprised she even saw me.”

“Mrs. Napier, is it?” a man asks, allowing as he pauses directly at your side, out of Deacon’s reach. “My associate Andrea mentioned that you were here. I believe you recently opened an account at my branch of United Banks. Hopefully you can spare some time soon so I can show you around LA.”

He walks away before you or Deacon can speak, and you’re left to watch him and wonder why he chose to acknowledge you.

“Think he’s a suspect?” Deacon murmurs into your ear as you turn toward him.

“No,” you answer, moving your professionally styled hair as you shake your head. “Just a man with a roving eye. We have no evidence that our guy goes after women any more than men.”

“But he killed the woman last night.”

“The husband called it in, though. He was in the house when it happened. Said they were both tied up and she managed to get free and went into the bedroom to confront the thief. He’s scared, he doesn’t like being watched. Nothing like that guy.”

Deacon nods and pulls you close, smiling before he kisses you quickly. You slide your hand into his and follow him to your seat.

During the concert, nothing of note occurs. Even after it ends, you’re welcomed to Los Angeles by several couples, but no one sticks out as a possible suspect. So, disappointed and back at square one, you exit the concert hall and stand at Deacon’s side as he asks the chauffeur to fetch the car.

Just as the Bugatti pulls up, the man who parked your loaner car moves behind Deacon and presses a gun against the small of his back.

“Get in the car, Mr. Napier. I’d hate to shoot through your wife’s pretty dress,” he demands quietly. “Now.”

Deacon moves his hands slightly to show the man that he’s unarmed and mumbles, “Okay, okay.”

“In the car, Mrs. Napier,” he demands, jerking his head toward the passenger door.

You nod quickly, wearing faux fear on your face as you get in the front seat. Deacon sits in the driver’s seat beside you as the armed man slides in behind him.

“Nice car,” he applauds. “Now drive to your house. Either one of you moves for a phone… if you even adjust the air vent, I will shoot you both.”

You don’t think he will, not somewhere as noticeable and closed-in as the car, but you nod and pretend to swallow a sob as Deacon pulls the Bugatti out of the short driveway.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” the man begins as Hondo speaks into your earpiece to alert you that he’s behind you in an unmarked car. “We’re going to go into your house, you’re going to turn off the alarm and get out of my way, and I’m going to take whatever I want. Understood?”

“You don’t have to do this,” Deacon replies.

The man presses the gun against your temple and yells, “Understood?!”

“Yes,” Deacon answers quickly, tightening his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles white as his hands remain firmly at 10 and 2. “Understood.”

“I trust you, Dan,” you whisper as his left hand shifts slightly. “And everything you’d want people to do.”

“Shut up!” the man demands, lowering his gun slightly as he looks between you and Deacon.

“I trust you, Daniel,” you repeat softly, hoping your wire picks it up.

“I hope you don’t regret that,” Hondo answers in your ear. “Turn one light too early if you mean it, Deac.”

Deacon’s jaw clenches as he approaches the last light before your turn.

“This way is faster,” he tells the thief as he hits the blinker but doesn’t move.

Hondo’s engine revs as he increases his speed, steering his car to the right to perform a PIT manoeuvre.  When his front bumper collides with the side of the Bugatti, Deacon releases the wheel and turns toward you. He grabs the man’s forearm and hits it against the passenger seat as you retrieve your service weapon from your ankle holster. The car slides to a stop against the curb, and the man drops his gun, then begins crying as you level your aim at him.

“You’re under arrest,” you tell him, panting as you try to catch your breath and lower your heart rate.

“Who are you?” the man whimpers as Deacon holds his arm between the front seats.

“Detective Kay, LAPD,” you answer. “This is Sergeant Kay. And the man about to pull you out onto the pavement is Sergeant Hondo. LAPD SWAT.”

“Wait,” he interrupts, sniffling. “You’re actually married?”

Hondo rips the door open before you can answer and grabs the back of the man’s shirt collar to haul him out of the car. He looks through the open back door to check on you and Deacon, then clicks his tongue.

“Luca and Street are not going to be happy.”

You tip your head back against the headrest and groan.

“Congratulations, Detective Kay,” Deacon says.

He smiles as you turn in the seat to face him.

“I love you,” you tell him softly. “Even more without the expensive jewelry.”

“But I look good in the sunglasses, right?”

You laugh and nod but point out, “We didn’t need them for a concert at night, though.”

Deacon laughs with you, and as the approaching police lights reflect around you, you know your life is richer with Deacon than with any material belongings you could ever borrow or earn.

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Living in Secrecy

I couldn't stop thinking about this idea when I was in the middle of a uni class so ENJOY xoxo

"Hey, y'know Rose?" James starts speaking as soon as he's sat beside Sirius in the common room. He seems... antsy; Sirius watching his leg bounce, confused.

"Hufflepuff in our year, right?" He asks. He doesn't know her particularly well. Part of him thinks they were in the same charms class for a year, but he barely remembers fifth year charms. Too much was happening back then.

James nods emphatically, eyes brightening.

"Yeah! Her! I've heard she likes you. Wants you to ask her out."

"Oh, really?" Sirius asks. He tries to muster a sense of interest into his tone, but honestly? He couldn't care less. James, who unfortunately can read him like a book, picks up on this scarily quickly.

"I thought, maybe, it would be... good for you. Y'know, to go on a date." He's practically stumbling through it, but it's enough to make everything click.

Ah.

Right.

He's worried.

Sirius used to date around. He's not exactly proud of it, he spent a lot of time denying a very big part of himself, and he broke a lot of hearts in the process.

All of that ground to a halt when Remus kissed him on the astronomy tower.

He couldn't deny anything then. When Remus' lips met his, all he could think was that they'd wasted too much time not being together in this way. He's not quite there yet, but at least he knows that now. He knows he has a long way to go, but at least he has Remus. Even if he isn't ready to tell people yet, Remus understands.

That also meant no more girls.

He had gone from never being single in the eyes of the school to rejecting every advance thrown his way. He's been so wrapped up in the past few months with Remus, that he hadn't even thought about how confusing a switch that must have been for his friends.

"Prongs, I'm not really interested," Sirius says gently. He does want to tell James. It's pretty tempting, but he can't get the words past his mind and into his mouth. Not yet.

"How come?" James asks, confused. "I'm not saying you need to go back to the way you dated before!" He says quickly. "I'm glad you took a bit of a break, really I am. It's just... I don't know, I thought maybe you've had a bit of a confidence knock, or something. You've gone all quiet about your love life."

"Well, I mean, there's not much to tell," Sirius says with a shrug, panic creeping through him ever so slightly. James watches him carefully for a moment, before just nodding once.

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, just... think about it? Could get you back on your feet." Sirius nods dutifully.

Thank fuck that conversation's over.

He skips Divination. It doesn't matter either way, he'll pass that exam with flying colours.

Instead, he opts for laying on his bed in the dorm, lazily levitating shit with his wand. He's mostly just trying to whittle away the time, waiting for Remus.

The door clicks open, and Sirius can't help but smile before he even catches a glimpse of him.

Remus is humming Bohemian Rhapsody.

Christ, it's so bloody endearing, Sirius is grinning by the time he's stopped, noticing Sirius' presence. As he sits up, his eyes finally meeting Remus', he watches a slightly embarrassed blush spread across Remus' cheeks. He adjusts until his legs are over the end of his bed, revelling in the way his heart speeds up at the sight of Remus.

"Aren't you meant to be in Divination?" He recovers quickly, arching an eyebrow as he drops his books onto his bed.

"Mm, told Prongs to say I'd foreseen my own death and was feeling a little shaken," he answers with a shrug and a wry smile. Remus shakes his head, but Sirius can see the affection in it. He quickly gets close enough for Sirius to grab both of his hands and pull him close, before wrapping his arms around Remus' waist. He's rewarded with a hand in his hair and Merlin, he's never felt this way before. He relaxes into Remus, letting his eyes slide shut.

"You okay?" Remus asks gently. Sirius nods into him, letting him go long enough for him to sit on the bed next to Sirius. He doesn't waste a second in leaning in and connecting their lips.

He doesn't think he'll ever get over this. This feeling, this want that builds in his core whenever the two of them kiss.

How did he ever think he was straight?

"Oh," he starts, pulling away begrudgingly as the story comes to the front of his mind, "Prongs tried to get me a date, today."

"Really?" Sirius watches amusement cross Remus' face. He nods, squeezing Remus' hand once.

"Some Hufflepuff girl. I think he thinks I've lost my mojo, or something." As he talks, he watches thoughtfulness begin to flash in Remus' eyes.

"I mean... have you considered maybe telling him?"

Sirius doesn't mean to tense up; it's involuntary. The moment he does, he knows he needs to talk himself out of this. He promised Remus that they'd tell people eventually, but... no, not yet.

"Why? He'll drop it on his own, when he realises I'm not interested," he says, forcing his shoulders to relax and waving his hand a little dismissively.

"I know you don't... I'm not saying you have to tell everyone," Remus says gently, "but, I mean, it would make everything a lot easier, right? Prongs wouldn't be trying to set you up all the time." He smiles, and Sirius really wishes he could reciprocate it. His smile is just so lovely.

"I don't know. I don't think now's the right time, y'know? Quidditch has been stressing him out, NEWTs are getting closer, Lily's finally started looking his way, it's just- why dump one more thing on him?"

They both know that's not why.

"Sirius, it's okay. You don't have to tell him tomorrow, or anything, but... have you thought about it? You know he won't look at you any differently, it's Prongs."

He doesn't. Nobody knows that for sure.

Sirius doesn't really want to say that. He doesn't know what he wants to say, really.

"It's not the right time," he settles on, hurried. Honestly, he just wants this conversation to be over.

"Okay," Remus says tiredly, pulling his hand out of Sirius' to scrub over his face. "Do think about it though? Please? We can't stay a secret forever."

"Yeah, I know," Sirius says. "He doesn't need to know now, though. It's fine, it doesn't matter," he says quickly, waving off the conversation and turning back to Remus. "We've got half an hour..." Remus' face stops him in his tracks. He almost looks stricken. "Moony, what's wrong?"

"It doesn't matter?" He repeats, face going slightly dark. "What, us?"

"That's not what I meant. I just... we're not there, are we? There's no point right now." He's panicking a little, everything starting to come out wrong as the anxiety comes back in volumes.

"Right, yeah. No point. Haven't made up your mind about us yet."

"That's not what I meant," he says helplessly. He doesn't know how to tell Remus what he means, because he isn't even sure. He can't tell Remus why he's so scared, he just is. It's a little embarrassing, really.

"Mm. I don't think I want to talk about this anymore." Remus gets up, Sirius' heart sinking to his stomach.

Fuck.

God, he's really cocked this up.

"I'm going to the library."

Before Sirius can figure out how to make it better, Remus is already out the door. He drops his head into his hands and lets out a groan.

He's such a bloody idiot.

"Padfoot." James stumbles up to Sirius. He's leaning against the wall beside the portrait hole, watching the party go on and just trying to drink himself into oblivion. In his defence, he's in a foul mood, after what happened with Remus. He just needs to sulk and forget about it for a bit.

They can talk about it tomorrow.

It doesn't help that Remus is noticeably absent from a party that he helped organise. Sirius knows it's his fault. He knows that he shouldn't have said any of what he said. Sure, maybe Remus overreacted, but he knows how Remus' brain works, he should have been more careful.

So, yeah, he's feeling a bit shit.

"Wotcher, Prongs." He reaches a hand out to steady James a little as he settles beside Sirius.

"S'goin on? You're being all..."

"M'fine," he answers with a shrug, draining the rest of his drink. He can't exactly tell James why he's being such a moody git, can he? Instead, he opts for straightening up and staring at his empty goblet. "Need a refill."

With that, he heads over to the drinks table. He's starting to feel comfortably fuzzy, zoning out as he pours just a little too much firewhiskey into his goblet. Just for tonight. Tonight he can let himself go a little, and he can fix things with Remus once he's cooled off a little.

Things start to blur from there.

He's not drunk, per se, but he's getting there. He's tipsy enough that he doesn't question James talking to a girl who looks weirdly familiar.

He doesn't even question it when she walks over to him.

"Hi, Sirius!" She starts cheerily.

"Hey. Rose, right?"

-

Remus is sulking.

It's an embarrassing thing to admit, but he is. He's sitting on his bed, pretending to read as he listens to the party downstairs.

He also knows that he's not really in the right.

He told Sirius he'd give him time, and he knows that. The thing is, he's had two months of Sirius gently shutting the conversation down when it comes to telling people about them. Surely two months is enough time. Also, he did say there was 'no point' in telling James about them. Sirius' best friend, his brother, and there's no point?

Remus has a right to be upset about that.

The more he thinks about it, dwells on it, the more he realises that he needs to give Sirius some more credit. Yeah, he's not ready to tell James yet but, Merlin, Sirius is the best person Remus knows. He's scared. Of course he's bloody scared, with the upbringing he's had.

When they're alone, he takes every available opportunity to make Remus feel like the most important person in the world. He knows Sirius by now, he should know that Sirius needs real time to think on this. They need to have a real conversation about it.

That can wait, though. They shouldn't be ending the day like this.

Shit.

He needs to go and apologise.

Sirius needs to know that it's okay. That Remus really bloody likes him. It's okay if Sirius needs time, he just needs to tell him that. They just need to communicate.

Problem solved.

With that, he shuts his book, leaving it forgotten as he pulls the door to the dorm open. He feels lighter, somehow. Hopeful. They can work through this. That's what couples do, right?

He bounds down the stairs as quickly as his hip will let him, out into the thick of the party. His eyes scan the room, searching for Sirius.

It doesn't take long to spot him, talking to another seventh year. Remus recognises her, he's pretty sure she was in their charms class, a few years back. He's sure he can interrupt them, that's fine-

Until she leans in and kisses him.

Oh, fuck.

Just like that, Remus' heart stops.

For a moment, he just stares. He can't fucking look away. It's no more than a second or two, but it may as well have been hours.

God, he feels sick.

Finally, his brain decides to set him free. He manages to turn away as his soul fucking shatters. He loses all control of his breathing, going shallow as he's thrown into the depths of a panic attack he can't save himself from.

He's an idiot.

He's an idiot for thinking he would ever be enough, he's an idiot for letting himself get this far.

He's an idiot for falling in love with the prat.

The tears start before he has a chance to calm down, pulling the curtains shut around his bed. He cries until his throat is raw, until his head aches, until he exhausts himself. He only has one thought as he falls into a fitful sleep.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Remus wakes up as early as he can, the next day.

The others are probably sleeping off hangovers, anyway. It gives him the chance to slip into the bathroom, unnoticed.

As he turns the shower on, he tries to figure out how the hell he feels. It's like he's having an out of body experience. His body isn't letting him feel any of the night before.

He doesn't know how long he stays there, letting the water hit him, staring into space and trying to figure out how the fuck he's going to tell Sirius.

They were going to go to Hogsmeade, today. Slip away from James and Peter so that they could spend some time together. Instead, Remus has to relive what happened last night. It's not exactly a conversation he's excited to have.

Still, he can't avoid it any longer when someone starts knocking the door.

"Oi, Moony!" James' voice rings out. "I love you, mate, but you've been in there for years!"

"Sorry," he says back, trying to force some semblance of brightness into his tone.

It doesn't take him long to switch the shower off, wrapping a towel around his waist and emerging from the bathroom. James smiles at him, but it quickly gives way to concern. Remus must not be doing a very good job at being fine.

"You okay?"

He just nods once, a horrible lump forming in his throat that he knows will have him breaking down if he's not careful. Thankfully, James is slightly too hungover to ask, so he just squeezes Remus' shoulder once and disappears into the bathroom. The moment the door shuts, Remus realises.

Sirius is awake.

Awake, hungover, and watching him with concern.

"Hey," he starts at a whisper. Remus glances over to Pete's bed. The curtains are drawn tight.

There's no getting out of this.

"Can we talk today?" He asks softly.

For a moment, Remus just watches him. He hates the pang of worry that hits him when he notices the furrow in Sirius' brow, the way his teeth worry at his lower lip.

Well, until the night before comes screaming back to him.

He shakes his head, walking over to his bed.

"No, I don't think we can."

"Moony, what-? Are you alright?" He asks, and Merlin, he really thinks Remus doesn't know? He pulls his chest open, rooting through it for something to wear.

"I think you can answer that," he says blankly. When he doesn't get an answer, he turns to face Sirius. He just looks confused. "That Hufflepuff, from last night. She's the one James was trying to set you up with, right?" He watches as the realisation flits across Sirius' face. His eyes widen, Remus letting Sirius clear his throat a little in his shock, sitting up straight.

"Shit. Moony, you know that wasn't what-"

"What, wasn't what it looked like?" He asks. "I really don't want to hear it, Sirius. You said you weren't sure, then got with a girl. Message received." He shuts his chest a little too hard, wincing as the sound reverberates through his skull.

"Wait, Rem, please. Prongs was just-"

The curtains around Peter's bed slide open, and Sirius' mouth snaps shut. Remus turns and offers Pete a half-hearted smile, before climbing onto his bed and moving to close the curtains.

"Remus," Sirius whispers, eyes pleading.

For a moment, Remus wants to relent. He wants to pull Sirius into a hug and make everything okay. Forget that this happened and draw a line under it.

No.

Not this time.

"Leave me alone, Sirius."

With that, he shuts the curtains and bites back tears.

He almost misses breakfast, in the end. He sits and waits until he hears everyone else leave the dorm, not willing to face any of the marauders, really.

When he does eventually get to breakfast, he sits with the girls instead. Lily shoots him a concerned glance, a question in her eyes. He just shakes his head. No talking. Not right now.

He spares a glance in the direction of his usual spot. James and Peter are sat opposite one another, whispering with confused frowns. Sirius is nowhere to be seen, James throwing Remus a glance every few seconds. When he spots Remus watching him, face blank, he falters.

"You okay?" He mouths across the table.

No. He's really bloody not. He's actually a little worried that if he opens his mouth he'll burst into tears. Instead, he opts for a shrug, turning back to his food.

He feels a little like he's underwater, like nothing's real.

Breakfast is excruciatingly long, even though he's the first one finished. He needs to go. Get away from everybody. From everything.

Usually, he doesn't want to go to class around the full moon. His skin is too busy crawling, his head buzzing to the point that he can't focus. Right now, he'd fucking kill to go to class and distract himself. He stands quickly, desperate to leave. The moment he does, his heart rate spikes and he practically blacks out, stumbling a little over the bench.

Shit.

Yeah, he needs to sit down.

Lily's up in a flash, guiding Remus back onto the bench by the shoulders. She swings her legs over and stands in front of him.

"Slow down, take a breath," she says gently.

He watches James' walk over, before letting his eyes slide shut and forcing himself to breathe slowly. He just needs to hurry up and calm down. They're not going to let him leave if he doesn't.

“Come on, let’s go.” She offers him her hand, slowly helping him up.

“Go?” He asks with a frown. To be perfectly honest, he wants to go and lock himself in his bed, wallow for a little where nobody can bother him.

“The hospital wing,” she answers, James nodding like it should be obvious. Remus goes to protest. He’s not that unwell, this happens all the time around the full-

Hold on.

The hospital wing. Nobody can bother him there.

Lily’s just given him the solution.

With that decided, he lets her lead him out of the Great Hall, trying to ignore the eyes on him. James and Peter are close behind, as they walk together to the wing. Madame Pomfrey’s bound to give him something to let him sleep through the day, if he asks.

The moment he arrives, Madame Pomfrey’s sitting in front of him. He doesn’t say much, Lily explaining on his behalf. Poppy nods, listening carefully.

“I think I have just the thing. One moment, lovely.” She pats his knee, standing and walking away.

“D’you want us to stay?” James asks, offering Remus a small smile.

Thank fuck. He shakes his head, trying to mirror James’ smile.

“I’ll be fine. See you later?” They all start to leave, Lily squeezing his hand before she leaves.

It doesn’t take long for Madame Pomfrey to come back, potion in hand.

���It’ll slow your heart down a little,” she explains, as he pulls the cork off and drinks it dutifully. He can still feel her eyes on him, watching him carefully. “How are you feeling, Remus?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Remus says back with a shrug. “Freaked Lily out more than me.”

“Mm. How about in general? You seem a little dejected.”

He stiffens a little at that. Poppy’s scarily good at this stuff, but he was hoping that she’d think he was just stressed because the moon’s close. For a moment, he goes to say exactly that; he’s just feeling antsy, what with the moon being so close.

The moment he opens his mouth, a lump forms in his throat. He can’t form the word fine, it just won’t happen.

God, he’s actually going to cry.

The tears spill over before he has a chance to blink them back. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s telling Poppy everything. He’s careful to leave Sirius’ name out of it, but that’s about as much control he’s capable of. Embarrassingly enough, Poppy hears everything. The conversations they’d had about secrecy, the argument, the fact that Remus wanted to tell him he loved him. Absolutely everything, through tears and a fair amount of hyperventilating.

To her credit, Poppy listens to it all. She sits and lets him vent everything, quietly empathetic right to the last word. Once he’s finished, he feels a bit stupid. The hospital wing isn’t meant for this. He’s taking up her time. He forces himself to take a deep breath, swiping the tears away quickly.

“Sorry.”

“Remus, dear, you have no reason to apologise.” She pulls her wand out, seamlessly bringing a bar of chocolate from her office. “Here. You can stay a while, if you want to.” He fiddles with the wrapper, nodding gratefully.

“Thanks, Madame Pomfrey.”

“Of course. Have a bit of a break.”

She leaves him alone, then. Standing and leaving with a reassuring smile. He practically exhausted himself with all of that. He doesn’t even realise that he’s about to fall asleep until he’s out.

When he wakes up hours later, James and Peter are talking next to his bed. He blinks harshly, sitting up. He didn't mean to sleep for that long, but at least it got rid of his headache.

"Hey," James says. "Feeling better?"

Remus nods once. He actually feels like he's a being a bit dramatic about everything, but it's not like James can hear that, can he?

"Yeah. Ready to go, actually." He swings his legs out of bed, quickly shooting Poppy a grateful glance.

They walk back to the common room slowly. Remus doesn't really speak much. He doesn't have anything to say.

"Padfoot's pissed at me," James says suddenly, scanning the map. "I'm pretty sure he's spent the whole day trying to avoid me. Look, he isn't even in the dorm!"

Remus wants to say something, then. Say that Sirius just feels awkward after what happened between them. Still, he bites his tongue.

"Well," Pete pipes up, "you did get a girl he didn't know go and kiss him."

Remus practically stops in his tracks, stunned. It takes way too much effort to keep his legs moving.

"I didn't know she was going to kiss him!" James protested. "All I told her to do was ask him out!"

"Yeah," Pete shrugs. "He doesn't know that though, does he?"

The realisation starts to dawn on Remus, like ice water running down his back.

"He stopped her in her tracks, anyway. I don't know, I feel like it should have blown over by now, y'know? Nothing even happened!" James says, frustrated, guilt laced through his voice.

"Oh, fuck," Remus groans to himself. He's really fucked up.

"Moony, you okay?" James asks.

"Yeah. No. I don't- I'll see you later," he says quickly, grabbing the map from James and practically running off. He doesn't even think about how confused his friends must be. He can't. His mind is stuck on Sirius.

Merlin, poor Sirius.

With a quick glance at the map, he runs across the castle. It's like his brain has woken up, adrenaline feeding him, letting him ignore his hip. Nothing feels as important as getting to Sirius right now. He's jumped to the worst conclusion of his life.

It doesn't take him long to get to the One Eyed Witch passage. Sirius hasn't moved, as Remus shuts the map, pulling the entrance open. He jumps a mile at Remus' arrival, and Remus catches him subtly wiping the tears from his cheeks. His heart tugs painfully, guilt following along with it.

"M- Remus, sorry, I-"

"I, er..." Remus starts quickly, cheeks pinking a little. "I actually came to find you."

Sirius' eyes widen, and Remus steps inside, shutting the passage behind him.

"I- Padfoot, I'm so sorry."

"You're..."

"I should have let you explain. I shouldn't have just... assumed that you'd do something like that." He says gently, sitting opposite Sirius in the small passage.

"Moony, I didn't- she- I promise-" Sirius' face twists awkwardly as he stumbles for the words.

"I know," Remus answers, reaching out and grabbing Sirius' hands in his. "James said. Honestly? I should have known. It was awful of me, not letting you explain. I'm so sorry."

"No, I get it. Really, Moony, I do," Sirius says hurriedly, squeezing Remus' hands once. "After what I said, I get it. I'm- Christ, I was an idiot saying any of that." Remus tries to wave him off, but Sirius doesn't stop. "No, really. I don't think any of what I said. I'm sure, Remus. I really am sure. I just- I don't know, I freaked out. I was still thinking about Prongs not finding out, but I also wanted to tell you I love you, and I didn't-" He cuts himself off, and Remus can see the shock ripple through him.

Sirius loves him?

"Shit. Bugger. I didn't mean to-" He buries his face into his hands, groaning. "Sorry."

There's already a smile growing on Remus' face, though. This is the last thing he expected.

"Sirius," he says gently, reaching up and pulling Sirius' hands from his face. "I love you."

Sirius' breath catches in his throat, eyes darting over Remus' face.

"You- Merlin, Remus, I love you so much. I'm so in love with you," he says quickly, and Remus just can't take it anymore. He leans in and connects their lips without a second thought. Sirius lets out a muffled noise of surprise, hands moving to cup Remus' face.

It dawns on Remus, in this moment, that nobody else needs to know. He's been so worried about how Sirius felt, that he'd essentially taken the fact that Sirius isn't ready to tell people as a sign that he didn't like Remus.

Who else needs to know? This is theirs.

They can stay secret for a little longer.

[chaosduckies]

Congratulations on 100 Followers!!! Big achievement!!!!

Gonna take you up on your open commissions so I’d love to see your take on a tiny being forced to ask a giant for help.

Your choice of characters but I’m a sucker for hurt comfort so go wild ❤️

Congrats again!!!

Thank you! :D

I'm sorry that this took so long to get out! I was having a minor writing slump but I'm back at it! I did have a lot of fun writing this and I hope you do to! (classic borrower asking a human for help)

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: Minor blood

Snow Fall

———Forest———

Everything was going great. I set off on my own, leaving my parents behind and starting my new life. Of course I was scared. Who wouldn’t be when you were two inches tall and leaving everyone you know and love? It was terrifying, but I had to. Borrower children, even though some were some-what good at borrowing from humans, were supposed to leave their parents as soon as they turned fourteen since it was a liability for their parents. I was just lucky and extended my stay for 3 more years. What could I say? I loved my parents just as much as they loved me, and no matter how many times my mom pleaded for me to stay, I knew I wasn’t that good at borrowing. I would eventually get us all in trouble. Which was why I decided to find a new home when I turned seventeen. It didn’t sit right with me that I was still leeching off my parents. 

Humans were scary. The horror stories, the pets, the kids. Almost everything about them scared me half to death. Just thinking about getting caught in one of those huge hands has me shuddering. I couldn’t think about myself getting caught, or what would happen to me, and to be honest, leaving my parents was the worst decision of my life. 

I wasn’t a good borrower to say in the least. I could barely hurdle over the counters without somehow hurting myself or becoming so sore the next day that I could barely move, I wasn’t the best at hiding. I had no idea how my parents did this at such a young age, but I wasn’t like them at all. How did they end up with such a failure like me? I laughed at the thought. 

My new home was nice. The human here had a schedule that I could work around. They left for work every morning, giving me plenty of time to get a little bit of food that they leave out sometimes, get some other things, and head back. They weren’t very observant of anything in particular, perfect for grabbing a few extra paperclips since my hook usually breaks from my own misuse. This house was perfect… or so I thought. 

After a while, the person stopped laying out food everywhere, they had started packing up their things in huge boxes, people in strange uniforms came by and dragged out anything heavy. I had no idea what was going on, but it wasn’t good. I stayed hidden in my home in the walls, scared of what was happening. I was too scared to go out at night and get my daily necessities, like food and water. Humans were terrifying. If I was seen by even one of them, who knows what might happen? I didn’t care if I was so hungry that my stomach was digesting itself, there was no way I was going to get caught and placed in some weird science lab. Testing me everyday, killing me slowly. I shuddered at the thought, wrapping myself in the thin cloth I managed to snag before any of this moving was happening. 

Lately the seasons have been changing, and the human that I thought was still living here hasn’t bothered to turn on the heater. This only made things a million times worse for me. I was already hungry, practically starving from not having eaten anything for the past three days, and now it was freezing cold. There was nothing I could do about it though. I was terrified. Scared. Too paranoid about what would happen if I stepped outside the comforts of my dingy home in the walls. No matter how much I wanted to go back with my parents, I couldn’t. More because I barely even remember the way back home, but also because it was already dangerous enough getting to this new home. I had no choice but to stay here in hopes that I could get over this fear of being seen and that the human had left some kind of food out. But there was no such luck. The house was empty. Furniture moved, heater off, no sign of food in the cabinets. Just nothing. My hope diminished as I sluggishly walked back home in defeat. There was no way I was going to survive. 

The human that I found so easy to maneuver around without being seen, that left food out, was now gone. Who knew when another one would just move back in? Most days I would walk around out in the open because there was nothing to do. I mean, without a human there was no chance of me surviving. I was too afraid to go outside because I knew there were animals that wouldn’t hesitate to mistake me for food. So staying inside was really my only option. Plus, it was just the slightest bit warmer here than outside. 

Sometimes I’d go sit on the windowsill, stay there for hours watching these tiny white balls fall from the sky and cover the ground. People passed by wearing thick coats that protected them from the harsh cold, and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. I looked back at the thin piece of cloth wrapped around me, barely giving any warmth while humans were able to be so warm, get food without having to worry about anyone seeing them (or in my case get food at all), heck, they weren’t even scared of anything. 

I sat alone, in a quiet house just waiting for anything to happen. I didn’t care if it was good or bad. I didn’t know how I was surviving for so long, nor how I was still moving despite searching the top shelves and countertops desperately for something. But of course it was always the same way it was. Empty. Nothing was changing, but in a bad way. 

My legs were sore from the amount of climbing I’ve done the past few days, my body was getting even weaker than it already was. I guess I really was going to starve to death, huh? All of that talking with my parents about making sure I would have enough to last me and it’s just wasted. How was I supposed to know that only a week after I found a new livable home that the human I was just barely getting used to was going to move out? Life wasn’t fair. 

Today was yet another sad, depressing day. I dragged myself along the floor, trying to at least be active while I was struggling to survive. Would another human be coming here soon? As much as they scared me and borrowers alike, most relied on them to help us survive. When they’re clumsy and forget easily, it’s easy to “borrow” a few things here and there. They leave food out or there’s an easy way to get into a cabinet, we can take a few things they wouldn’t notice. It was almost impossible to live without relying on a human in some way. Ironic how the thing I fear the most was the thing that was keeping me alive. 

I hoisted myself up onto the windowsill, breathing heavily as soon as I was safely up. I groaned in pain, wrapping up my hook and sitting by the window, once again staring at the white scenery. Other houses just across that had a slight smoke coming from the top of their house. Must be warm… I rubbed my arms, watching as a few people walked by, possibly on their way to work. I shivered, regretting not taking my “blanket.” 

Life wasn’t fair. I knew that much, but I forced myself to stay alive for whatever reason. My figure was getting slimmer from the lack of food, but I somehow kept moving. It was cold, but I gathered up any cloth I could find and wrapped myself up at night. My hook looked like it could break at any point in time, but it was hanging on just like me. If my hook did break, then there was basically no way for me to get anywhere but home and on the floor. I hoped that something would happen one day, but nothing ever did. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught something gray scurry along the floor. I stared for a couple long seconds before shrugging it off and continuing to look out the window. It was probably just my imagination. Great, now I’m hallucinating. I sighed, watching as cars carefully passed by. 

I don’t know how long I stayed on top of the windowsill, but eventually there was a change of scenery. At first I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but there it was. A car parked right in front of the house, headlights turning off and revealing a human, zipping up their jacket and looking down at something and back at the front of the house. I was too caught up in my fascination to realize that I was out in the open. The human slowly started making their way up to the front door, holding something that looked silver in their hands. 

I scrambled for my hook, climbing down as fast as I could, which was very painful. At some point I lost my grip and fell, but to my luck it was only a couple feet. I hurried to my feet, pulling my hook from the ledge it was dangling from and ran as fast as I could to reach the extremely tiny hole I squeezed myself through. I took a few seconds to catch my breath before the front door opened. My eyes were wide, my heart pounding fast. Would my luck finally be turning around? 

The human was taller than the last and looked much younger. I couldn’t really get a good look at their face, but I could make out his dirty-blonde hair. I could hear my own heartbeat. Is everything going to go back to normal? Would I be able to survive on my own again? 

The human moved around the place, shivering and pressing some buttons on something. Soon enough, the house was slowly but surely being warmed up. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. It might not be much… but at least it was something. Better than the frigid cold that had been filling the house for who knows how long. 

They moved around the house, checking everything out and smiling, their eyes a nice shade of light-brown. They looked… so nice. For a split second my mind wondered what would happen if he would ever see me. Would he keep me as a pet like I’m pretty sure most humans would? Or… nothing? No, why would I even be thinking about that? He would obviously want to hurt me even more than I already was. 

My stomach rumbled quietly, I winced, but confused to watch as they came from outside and back in, carrying a few boxes, bags and a small case that had wheels on it. Was I finally… saved? If this human was moving back in then I could actually have a chance to survive? I silently cheered to myself. How long has it been? Almost a week maybe? How did I even manage to stay alive? Didn’t matter anymore I guess. 

I continued to watch the human, putting up things in the boxes, setting up a few mini tables and placing picture frames of him and, who I was guessing, his parents. Of course occasionally taking breaks for a snack or two, leaving a plastic container filled with what looked like fresh fruit and vegetables. After most of the boxes were unpacked, a few still in their bedroom, he went back outside, most likely to fetch something else from his car. He usually took a while out there… so maybe it would be enough time to go and quickly grab something to eat? No, that was too risky. What if I was wrong and he came back early? I doubt I’d have enough time to find a hiding spot while out in the open since he didn’t exactly have any furniture or anything. 

I slumped, making my way back to my bland home in the walls. I had always tried to decorate… but since there hadn’t been anyone living here for me to “borrow” a few things from, I haven’t been able to decorate. Only the small bed I made by gathering up a bunch of cloth that the human before had forgotten about. It wasn’t extremely comfy, but better than anything I could’ve asked for. Otherwise, boring room. But it’s not like I need to decorate it anyways. Surviving was my main focus right now, and now that there was someone actually living here now… maybe I’d have a chance to get back into things. 

The wait was long, hearing the human talk to someone on what I think they call a phone, hang up, set up their house again and spend most of their time gathering up all of the blankets and pillows that he had brought with him and gathering them all up in what I think was going to be his room. As comfy as it looked, I knew I couldn’t just take a couple of minutes to get somewhat comfortable. Lately every night has been spent cold, hungry, filled with false hope. If I could just take a couple minutes to have some kind of sense of safety and security, that would be great. But I haven’t been able to, and I doubt that I’d be able to even now. I never realized just how hard it is to survive. Imagine what my parents went through while taking care of me… 

I hugged my blanket close, my eyelids threatening to close at any second. I heard the sound of the door open once again, and the loud sounds of him dragging something across the floor. It was all fine for me though. My eyes shut close, I laid down, and soon enough my mind drifted off. 

——————

When my eyes opened, there was a quiet noise of people talking outside. My heart had skipped a beat, thinking that there were more humans living here. That would make it impossible for someone like me to get past without being noticed, but as I groggily stepped outside, rubbing my eyes to wipe away the sleep, I realized that it was only the tv that wasn’t there a couple hours ago. 

I looked around the dark room, seeing that there was now a singular couch in what was the living room, a tv, a table that held two more frames. How long had I been sleeping? Or better yet, just how exhausted was I? Obviously the sun had already set, so I guess it didn’t really matter. I headed back to my room, grabbed my hook, and took off, every now and then finding a hiding spot just in case the human was somewhere I couldn’t see him. 

My head turned towards a dark shadow scamper right across from me, but I didn’t pay any mind. Probably just my imagination, right? Right now I was just trying to make sure that the human was asleep right now just before I go and see if he had any food out… or at least something edible in the cabinets. 

I checked the living room first, hiding by one of the legs under the couch, peaking my head out just enough to see him having trouble keeping his eyes open. Good enough for me. I ran quietly back to the kitchen, throwing my hook as far up as I could before testing if it was safely secure. I started my trek up, my arms and legs begging in me to go back down. Despite my arms threatening to tear off from the lack of strength. I really wasn’t good at borrowing. 

As soon as I reached the top of the counter, I took a few seconds to catch my breath. Once I get used to the human’s schedule I may finally be able to get back into things. No going hungry for that long, not worrying if I’ll make it to the end of the night. as soon as he turns on the heater things would be even better… I wouldn’t be shivering at night and struggle to find something that would act as a blanket. Yet another reason to be jewels of humans. They had everything borrowers didn’t. It wasn’t at all fair, but we all knew what would happen if a human found or saw us. The thought was pure torture to even think about. Literally. 

On the counter, there really wasn’t anything for me to see except for the half-eaten sandwich just lying on the counter. I silently walked over, not really wanting to eat part of the sandwich that they had already bitten into but I had to unless I wanted him to already be suspicious when it hasn’t even been a full day. 

I started cutting off pieces, making them fit inside my bag and taking a few more unnoticeable pieces for tomorrow, learning from past mistakes. As I was cutting, I realized that there was something off. The tv was still on in the other room, I figured that the human still hadn’t left the couch either, fighting off sleep. So why did it feel so off? I treaded carefully, watching every tiny movement that caught my eye. For a moment it was so quiet that I could hear my own heart pounding in my chest, and then too quiet. 

My eyes searched around, taking my final piece into my hands since no more would fit in my bag. I might as well grab as much as I could. Better than having nothing. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful that I wasn’t dead, that I’d at least have some kind of way to survive. Out of curiosity, I took a small bite out of the sandwich, only really getting the bread part but it tasted so good. To be honest, a sandwich was a definite score for borrowers, now when you’ve been starving for days on end, it tastes amazing. 

Two glasses hit each other behind me, I turned my head seeing them spin before returning to their still pose. My eyes widened, hurrying to my hook that was still hanging off the edge of the counter. I looked back, the light making it easier to see a rat chase me down, easily twice my size. I let out a yelp as I ran through several spice glasses in hopes of losing it, only to hear them all fall onto the counter with a loud thud! That was bad for two reasons, one because not only was it making a mess and trails that I’ve been here, and two, because I knew the human would want to come and investigate what was happening. Of course being the person that I am, I would never be able to run faster than this  surprisingly malicious rat. 

I struggled to keep up my balance, eventually tripping on thin air, dropping the small piece of sandwich a few feet away from me. I quickly rolled over, my chest heaving up and down as I faced the rat not even given a second before they scratched at my shirt. I winced, holding my stomach and seeing my hand covered in some blood. My breathing was getting more heavy as I saw a silhouette by the kitchen entrance. The lights turned on, blinding the rat for just a second as I quickly stood up and kept running towards my hook, holding my stomach. I knew what was happening, and there was no way I would be found the second a new human moves in, right? I blinked back the tears building up in my eyes, tripping once again. My vision was blurry from the tears, and judging by the small squeaks from the rat I thought was a good couple feet away, that meant that the human was here. 

Forcing myself to sit up, I looked at the bowl that kept moving. The rat screeching to be released from their prison. The human placed some heavy books on top, sighing to himself as he muttered something under his breath I couldn’t catch, but I didn’t really care. I scrambled back onto my feet, trying to run yet again and slammed into something soft and squishy. I winced as I fell and soon my entire world was moving again, the soft surface now everywhere. 

It settled in my mind slowly, realizing that I was in human hands. It hurt to breathe from my new wound, but I couldn’t help it. Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to muffle the sounds of my quiet cries. 

“Oh! U-um, I didn’t mean to…” Their voice sounded quiet and worried. I just continued crying, not even caring what would happen to me. Who was I kidding? I could never have survived on my own! I should’ve known when that first human moved out. Sure it was okay at first, but obviously them moving was a sign that I wasn’t meant to be on my own. I should’ve listened to my parents and stayed with them. This would’ve never happened, I would be alive and healthy instead of on the brink of death and in Death’s hands himself. Literally. Who knows what this human would do to me? It was scary to think about. 

“P-Please don’t h-hurt me.” I mumbled most likely too quiet for his ears to hear, leaning against what I think was his thumb. He flinched slightly, but why did it feel so… comfortable? 

“Aw little guy,” He smiled softly, “I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” I leaned into the warmth from his hands, hugging what was his thumb closely, still crying to myself. What else was I supposed to do? Of course I was scared but… I also just wanted someone to hold me. Right now I didn’t care that it was a human and I’d face my consequences later, I just wanted to be promised that I wouldn’t have to try so hard anymore. That I could just live without thinking about what I could manage to get for dinner. 

“You were just… hungry?” He asked as I picked my head up, seeing him looking straight at the piece I had dropped on the counter. I shakily nodded my head, hoping he would see. For now, I would just hide my fear. Right now this human was giving me everything I’ve wanted this past week. Comfort, warmth. Heck, I’m even crying in front of him. How embarrassing was that and he still hasn’t said or asked me anything. 

“Hm, here little guy.” He tried tilting me back onto the counter, but I grabbed onto his sleeve and hung on tighter. I didn’t want to be let go already. I know humans are bad and I’d face the consequences eventually, but right now I’d like to think that not all of them were as horrifying as the stories make them out to be. 

He softly laughed, cupping both hands around me again. I sniffled, “C-could you… h-help me? P-please.” I tried wiping away my tears, but they just kept coming. My eyes felt red and puffy, my legs felt like jello, heart racing. I was a mixture of emotions. Terrified, filled with hope, and most of all grateful that this human hadn’t decided to hurt me yet. 

The human studied me, worried. I stood still for a moment, hoping I would get my answer. It seemed ridiculous to be asking a human this. One that probably had no idea that they had saved me in the first place. My heart thumped in my chest, waiting in the eerie silence, awaiting my answer. My stomach still burnt from the deep gash, but I've had to go through worse. There was still some blood that was getting on the humans’ shirt sleeve, but that was the least of my worries. 

I felt something rub against my back, making me flinch, but lean into the gentle touch. Some part of me knew that this was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. I was sitting in a humans’ hand, talking to one, being seen by one. And for some reason, it all felt right. Everything felt right. That this was meant to happen. That it was alright for me to be vulnerable to this human. 

They started moving their hand as I continued to cry, pressing my face into the fabric of his shirt. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a makeshift hug. I could hear his heartbeat in the background beating rhythmically, the slight rise and fall of his chest with every slow breath he took. I sniffled, shocked from the gesture but otherwise grateful. I wasn’t going to die. I was alive. I felt safe. There was no more suffering, no more false hope, no more anything. I would be fine. I smiled to myself, trying to wipe away the tears trailing down my face. 

I guess sometimes it’s okay to ask for help. 

——————

I hope you enjoyed! I don't know how to feel about this myself, but I think it's alright! Again, I had a lot of fun writing and thank you for the prompt!

Slowly getting out of my writing slump, hopefully get these prompts done plus something reallyyyy exciting (well at least it is to me)

Thank you for reading! :D

Taglist: @da3dm

[starsreminisce]

Happy Elain Day!

for @elainweekofficial

Word Count: 3K

It was a small shop in the town square, one Elain had passed frequently since she began preparing for her wedding. Its unassuming facade lent it an air of mystery, unlike the neighboring shops, whose glittering displays beckoned to window shoppers. Wedding planning had become exhausting, made worse by the constant clashes between Graysen and Nesta over the dress, the food, the location. But Elain saw through her sister's action. She knew exactly why Nesta was being so difficult: she wanted Graysen to reconsider marrying into their family so he would break it off, sparing them the shame or delay until their father could give the proper blessing.

Elain had never cared for a grand wedding even as a child, so when she suggested they elope, Graysen launched into a lecture.

“Now, Elain,” he began, his tone bordering on condescending. “I am a lord's son. We can't elope like peasants, especially given our status in society. People might think you're with child.”

Elain glanced up at the clock tower in the town square. She still had half an hour before her appointment, but the thought of Graysen and Nesta bickering over the flower arrangements, something she wished she could at least have a say in, made her stomach churn.

The black brick of the shop and its tinted windows beneath a purple awning seemed to call to her today more so than the other days. It would only be thirty minutes, she reasoned. Even if she were to get lost in the place, she doubted her fiance or sister would notice if she was late to the florist, considering how little they’ve considered her opinions with everything else. Besides, what if the shop was actually empty? She had never seen anyone enter or leave.

Taking a deep breath, she marched toward the door. Her hand rested on the handle, and to her surprise, it opened.

A small bell chimed as she peeked inside. The shop had no displays, nothing to sell. The only decor was a single table with two comfortable-looking chairs set across from each other. The scent of burning sage lingered in the air, and tapestries of the beginning of Prythian adorned the walls.

She should have left. Instead, she stepped fully inside, her eyes drawn to the strange story the tapestries told. One in particular was a woman with outstretched hands holding a sphere that captivated Elain. Gooseflesh prickled her skin as she realized she was inside of a shop belonging to a Fae sympathizer.

Graysen and Nesta's voices echoed in her mind, berating her for her fae sympathies, even though their sister Feyre had left the family to live with a Fae lover. Even though their father had always reminded them that they all shared this land.

“Hello, dearie,” a croaking voice stopped her from leaving.

Elain spun around to see a weathered woman. Long, graying hair cascaded past her shoulders. She wore a deep blue dress, and a silver circlet with a pale blue stone rested between her brows. Her eyes were sharp as she looked at Elain with interest.

“I was just leaving,” Elain murmured, avoiding eye contact.

“Have you been having doubts about your upcoming marriage?”

Elain’s gaze dropped to her left hand, where her pearl-and-diamond ring sat. She curled her fingers into a fist, as if she could hide it. She wasn’t sure if the crone had seen it before she asked.

“I'm sure it's just normal wedding jitters,” Elain managed, inching toward the door. “Thank you for your time.”

“Then would you want to know about the man in your dreams?”

That gave Elain pause, her heart pounding at the words. She had never told anyone about him. The mystery man had appeared in her dreams only a few days after Feyre left. His face was always hidden behind a fox mask, and each dream left her more unsettled than the last.

In the first, she saw him being flogged. His back was torn open, but his face stayed calm, refusing to show any pain.

In the second, he was drugged, dragged, and chained beneath a bed of spikes, yet he remained still, as if resigned to his fate.

The third dream was filled with violence. Nightmarish creatures attacked him, but with unnatural speed, he fought them off, cutting through them effortlessly even after he fell off his horse.

But the last dream was the most haunting. She had watched him stand before the same golden beast that had taken Feyre from them.

Elain swallowed hard and faced the crone. “Can you stop the nightmares?”

The woman gave a small, sad smile. “No, I cannot.”

“What exactly do you sell?”

“I read fortunes,” the crone said softly. “If the Mother deigns to show you who the man is, you will see.”

Elain’s curiosity gnawed at her. Her head urged her to leave, to let it go, reasoning that if it were important, the answers would come in time. But her heart… her heart needed to know. She needed to know who he was, why his presence in her nightmares lingered long after she woke, as if his pain was somehow hers to bear.

“How much?” she asked, her better judgment faltering.

“Whatever you can offer.”

Elain hesitated, her mind bouncing from one thought to another, until she felt a tug low beneath her ribcage. Fortune readings were becoming popular among her friends, she reasoned. Surely, there was nothing dangerous about it. She found herself nodding and followed the crone to a small table. Taking a seat, she placed a gold mark on the table, which the crone pocketed without a word.

The old woman lit a stick of palo santo, swirling the fragrant smoke through the air, around the deck and the tight space, before resting it in a ceramic holder. Elain watched as the crone shuffled her cards. The rhythm of it was hypnotic, and time seemed to blur, until finally, the crone paused. Her brows knit together, and she tilted her head, as if listening to a voice only she could hear, before drawing the cards.

Three cards: Four of Wands reversed, Tower, Death.

“Not good,” the crone said, her eyes narrowing. “The foundation is shaky. Something will come to destroy its foundation, causing you to be reborn.”

Elain immediately thought this woman was a scam artist, waiting to peddle crystals and old bath water to salvage her engagement. She could almost see the words forming on the crone’s lips, ready to spill out like a rehearsed script.

She was ready to leave until the crone pulled three more cards: Ace of Cups, Knight of Swords, The Sun.

“There is someone new coming,” the crone continued. “He will come like a knight in shining armor, one who reminds you of the sun.”

Elain tried not to scoff. Despite his shortcomings, she loved Graysen with all her heart, and the idea of someone new coming to sweep her off her feet sounded highly unlikely.

“Is it the man from my dreams?” she asked, curious by the crone’s certainty.

Nine of Swords, Page of Cups, Seven of Cups.

“Yes,” she affirmed. “You’re having nightmares about this young man because your fates and souls are intertwined, but the path ahead is unclear. There are many choices, many possibilities. Some real, some illusion. You’re struggling to see the truth through the confusion.”

“Can you tell me more about him?” she pressed.

King of Wands, Seven of Wands, Nine of Wands reversed.

“He is a fiery male,” the crone said. “Meant to be a ruler, but it seems he has been treated as an underdog so much that he tries to avoid conflict and is exhausted from doing so.”

Elain clicked her tongue in disbelief. This man sounded like the farthest thing from what she wanted in a lifelong partner. She preferred men who were decisive, calm, and steady—like Graysen, who seemed the very picture of what she was looking for. But fiery? Avoids conflict? That didn’t sit right with her. None of it aligned with the traits she valued.

The crone pulled three more cards: Strength, Three of Swords, Two of Swords reversed.

“Be careful not to be so stubborn,” she tapped on the Strength card with a long, bony finger. “Your heart will hurt, and it will make you feel closed off. If you're not careful, you’ll do something that you’ll come to regret.”

Elain said nothing as the crone pulled three more: Three of Cups reversed, Eight of Swords reversed, Ten of Swords reversed.

“You will get the wandering eye. It’s due to no fault of your own, but your actions will be your undoing.”

Eight of Cups, Wheel of Fortune, Nine of Cups.

“Things will change for the better,” the crone reassured her. “Only when you decide to leave for good will your wish come true.”

“And what might that be?” Elain asked, chewing her lip.

Two of Cups, Hierophant, Ten of Cups.

“An equal love in marriage to bring you the home you longed for,” the crone concluded.

Elain waited for the crone to sell her something to assure her of this future, but she merely nodded her head, her eyes losing their sharpness as if the reading had drained her. Elain still didn’t believe a word of it but nonetheless offered two more gold marks for a tip before leaving to join her sister and fiance at the florist, arriving right on time as they argued over Baby’s Breath.

The reading stayed with her until Graysen noticed her being distracted. She winced and said the wedding planning was stressful, which then he agreed. She laid with Graysen that night. A futile action as though to cement that if she gave him everything, she would always his.

She had forgotten about the reading when Feyre came back, now changed into a fae, seeking to use their home to broker an agreement with the Queens.

Feyre told her story, but her arched ears were more of interest to Elain, until the name Lucien sparked something deep in the recesses of Elain's mind. She didn’t know why this name was so important to her, why she gravitated towards it as though it were a string being pulled towards her. She listened to Nesta and Feyre argue back and forth, her engagement ring mocking her to tempt fate, until she finally said, “If … if we do not help Feyre, there won’t be a wedding. Even Lord Nolan’s battlements and all his men couldn’t save me from … from them.”

Mere days after being told the Queens refused to help, a cowled priestess stumbled in, pale as death, her wide eyes darting frantically. “Feyre,” she gasped, trembling. “Captured. Tortured.” Her voice faltered as Elain and Nesta rushed to steady her, but the terror clung to her words like a curse. Before either sister could react, the priestess added, her voice breaking, “Come with me quick.”

“No,” said Nesta.

Elain whimpered as rough hands shoved a gag into her mouth, her tears streaming silently as she was yanked into the shadows. Her captors paid no attention to her shaking or the weak struggles of her body, her kicks and blows finding only empty air.

Her quiet sobs soaked her gag as they dragged her toward the Cauldron. Her feet scraped against the cold stone floor, her fingers clawing desperately for something—anything—to hold on to. But there was nothing. Somewhere through the chaos, a male voice shouted a command to stop. That it was enough. But it didn’t matter. The icy black water loomed before her, and then—then it swallowed her whole.

Cold. All-consuming cold ripped through her body, and her soul felt as though it was being shredded, torn apart like delicate lace. Elain thrashed, but the water had her, seeping into her lungs, her bones, her very thoughts. This is death, she realized in a strange, detached way. Her body was breaking, dissolving, as if she was being unmade, piece by piece.

So this is what dying feels like.

She hit the ground hard facedown, sucking in air as water streamed from her, a gasp of air filling her chest with burning life. Her soaked nightgown clinging to her skin as she rose from the ground onto her elbows. Yet all she could focus on was her shame, as ridiculous and misplaced as it was, as she shivered on the wet stones, her legs and breasts on display.

Her mind held one absurd thought: I am dead, and all I care about is how indecent I must look.

He will come like a knight in shining armor that reminds you of the sun.

A light flared. Too bright. It pierced through her dazed vision, and she squinted. Worn Boots thudded toward her and before she could react, a warm jacket was draped over her trembling shoulders. Elain flinched, instinct curling her further into herself, expecting more violence, more violation. But the jacket … the jacket smelled of chestnuts and something warm—something almost like hope.

He is a fiery male.

Strong arms lifted her as Nesta poured out of the cauldron. Firm, but gentle. She was weightless in them, and for a moment, she let herself surrender to the feeling, the water still streaming from her like the last remnants of a terrible nightmare. He was so warm, so comforting, even in the midst of the chaos. He grounded her. She believed she was safe until her sister tore her away from her knight. She needed to know his name, staring as she waited.

He never offered it.

She could feel instincts running through her: Mine. I am yours. You are mine…

“…mate,” his whisper broke through the chanting.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

All she could do at that moment was to stare at him until another flash of blinding white light came, reminding her of him, even if it came from Feyre. Elain clutched the jacket, inhaling its scent, wishing he were holding her instead until a blonde fae slammed her mate away, and she was gone.

As soon as Elain materialized into the large house perched atop the mountain, she clutched to the jacket draped on her shoulders. The air was thick with silence, but she broke it with a scream, the sound ricocheting through the red halls.

“Take me home!” she cried again and again, each plea more ragged than the last, until her words became nothing more than a hoarse whisper. Exhaustion claimed her, her body collapsing into a heavy slumber, as though the weight of her cries had stolen every ounce of strength she had left.

The iron ring on her finger felt heavier, a cold reminder of a debt she owed. Beneath her rib, the golden string—delicate and shimmering—tugged gently, a promise, a tether she couldn’t name but always felt. She drifted somewhere between the worlds of waking and dreaming.

Faces blurred and shifted—her mate, her betrothed—figures flickering like shadows at the edge of her consciousness. She was pulled between what she was owed and what she was promised.

Again, she opened the windows, trying to let more sunlight in. But no matter how much light flooded the room, it couldn’t pierce the murkiness clouding her mind. She glimpsed a male figure bathed in sunlight, and then a woman—transformed into a fiery bird—screeching in anger. Loud. Everything was loud. The earth groaned beneath her, shifting and unstable.

The light she let in did nothing to clear her visions. The shadows remained.

Finally, she heard Feyre’s voice.

“I want to go home,” Elain murmured, her voice softer now, as though she were speaking to herself. Then, in the stillness, she heard it—a heartbeat. Deep, rhythmic, intimate. It thudded inside her chest, yet it was not her own. She knew without knowing that this heartbeat was home.

The golden string shimmered before her eyes, pulsing like a beacon. She rose from her bed, drawn by its soft glow, her feet moving before her mind could catch up. It led her through the quiet corridors, past the cold stone walls, past Nesta’s fussing voice, until she found herself in front of a window. She sat. She waited. The heartbeat grew louder, more insistent. Was he speaking to her? Was this real? She couldn't tell if she was still dreaming, lost in that liminal space between sleep and waking. She didn’t respond, and didn't dare to break the spell.

The sunlight hit his eye—golden, strange, glowing.

He will come like a knight in shining armor that reminds you of the sun.

She turned slowly.

His presence filled the room, familiar and yet foreign. His gaze held hers, unwavering, as though he had been waiting for her to see him fully.

He didn’t have dark hair. He didn’t exude the quiet, mysterious confidence she thought she’d been searching for.

But he was him—the most beautiful man, no, the most beautiful male she had ever seen.

And in that moment, she knew. Knew it as surely as if it were a memory she had long forgotten, buried deep beneath years of doubt and hesitation. She was his, as he was hers.

“Who are you?”

“I am Lucien,” he said, his voice steady. “Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.”

The name crashed into her like a wave, sweeping away the fog that had clouded her mind. She blinked, the murkiness around her vision dissolving as everything clicked into place. His name, the golden string, the heartbeat—it all made sense now. It was as though the sunlight that she would flood her bedroom for days had finally broken through into her very being, illuminating the truth buried deep within her soul.

“Lucien,” she whispered, tasting the name on her tongue. “From my sister’s stories. Her friend.”

If she had remembered the rest of the crone’s reading, it might have saved her—saved her from the ache that had lived inside her chest for so long, from the feeling of betrayal that gnawed at the edges of her heart, from the waiting, the endless waiting, for happiness she thought would never come.

But then again, Elain had never been one to believe in premonitions. She had never tempted fate—until the one time she did. And that had led her here, to him, to her mate.

The Mother, in her twisted sense of humor, had given her the same gift.

[charlieg1rl]

Hey! I'm Aira~

I love reading stories about Sky but I'm not good at writing them at all... 😭😭

In your post you wrote you are available for ideas for new writings! I have a cute idea for ya~ Hope you like it and consider writing it~

"Chan was in an amazing relationship with an gorgeous girl, Yumi, whom he loved with all his heart. He always told himself that he would do anything for her, or at least that's what he thought...

-

Everything in their relationship was perfect and remained perfect until the fateful day when Yumi found out she was pregnant. Chan had always wanted to have children but Yumi didn't.

-

At that moment the relationship between the two collapsed. Yumi had no intention of having an abortion but absolutely wanted to give her child up for adoption on the same day of birth. Chan on the other hand was absolutely against adoption.

-

He would have done anything for Yumi except give away his son!

This led to endless fights between the two and the final breakdown of their relationship.

-

9 months later the baby was born and Chan took custody of him becoming a single father. He named his son Andrea.

-

Due to his very demanding job he found himself needing the help of a babysitter, Y/N (reader).

-

At the beginning you took care of Andrea while Chan was at work. But as time went by you ended up taking care of the overworking man too..."

-

Then a cute continuation of the story about the two of them...

𝐡𝐢 𝐀𝐢𝐫𝐚! 𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭!

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞

𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏.𝟏𝐤

The sun barely peeked over the horizon as Chan shuffled into the kitchen, the weight of his new responsibilities heavy on his shoulders. He rubbed his tired eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Andrea, his infant son, had been up three times during the night, and Chan had barely managed to get any rest.

The doorbell rang, and Chan quickly straightened up, trying to look presentable despite the exhaustion etched into his face. He opened the door to find Y/N, a bright, friendly face ready to start her day. Her smile was a small beacon of light in the otherwise gray morning.

“Good morning, Mr. Chan,” Y/N greeted, stepping inside. “How’s Andrea this morning?”

Chan sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “He’s been up all night. I’m not sure how I’m going to manage today.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. Let me take over for a bit, and you can get some rest.”

Chan nodded gratefully, handing Andrea over to Y/N. As he watched her expertly soothe the baby, he couldn’t help but notice how natural she was with him. Y/N’s gentle touch and soft voice had an immediate calming effect on Andrea.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N became a fixture in Chan’s life. She wasn’t just taking care of Andrea—she was also helping Chan navigate his new reality. She made him coffee in the mornings, kept him company during his lunch breaks, and often stayed late to help with any remaining tasks.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Chan slumped onto the couch with a groan. Y/N was still there, tidying up the kitchen. She glanced over and saw the weariness in his eyes.

“Long day?” she asked, her tone gentle.

Chan nodded, rubbing his face with his hands. “You could say that. I’m trying to keep up with work and be a good father, but it feels like I’m constantly falling short.”

Y/N walked over and sat down next to him, her presence surprisingly comforting. “It’s not easy, I’m sure. But you’re doing a great job, Chan. Andrea is lucky to have you.”

Chan looked at her, a mix of gratitude and vulnerability in his eyes. “Thanks, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

There was a moment of silence between them, filled with unspoken words and lingering glances. Chan’s gaze lingered on Y/N’s face, and he felt a sudden, unexpected connection. Y/N, in turn, felt a flutter in her chest as she met his eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Y/N offered softly. “Sometimes it helps.”

Chan hesitated, then took a deep breath. “It’s just... it’s hard to let go of how things were supposed to be. Yumi and I had planned for a future together, and now everything is so different. I didn’t expect to be doing this alone.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes empathetic. “I can’t imagine how difficult that must be. But you’re not alone, you know. You have Andrea, and you have people who care about you. You’ve been through a lot.”

Chan leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “I guess I never thought I’d find myself in this position. I wanted to be a father, but I didn’t expect it to be like this.”

Y/N reached out and touched his hand gently. “You’re doing great, Chan. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. Just remember that it’s okay to ask for help.”

Chan looked down at their entwined hands, feeling a warmth spread through him. “Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know how to express how much your support means to me.”

Their fingers lingered together, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them. Y/N’s heart raced as she looked up at Chan, realizing how much she cared for him. Chan felt a deep sense of connection, but he was cautious, not wanting to rush anything.

Days turned into weeks, and the bond between Chan and Y/N grew stronger. They found themselves sharing more personal moments, talking about their hopes and dreams. Y/N began to notice the little things that made Chan special—his laugh, the way he cared for Andrea, the kindness he showed to those around him.

One evening, as they were finishing up a late-night feeding, Y/N and Chan found themselves alone in the living room. Chan was exhausted, and Y/N was doing her best to stay upbeat.

“You don’t have to stay so late,” Chan said, looking at her with concern. “You must be tired.”

Y/N smiled softly. “I don’t mind. I actually enjoy the time we spend together, even if it’s just talking while Andrea sleeps.”

Chan’s heart skipped a beat. He realized how much he looked forward to these moments with her. “I do, too. I’ve started to look forward to your company.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly. “I’m glad. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you better.”

Chan took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of nervousness and hope. “Y/N, I know this is probably sudden, but I have to ask—how do you feel about us? I mean, about me and you?”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, her heart pounding. “Chan, I—”

Before she could finish, Chan reached out and gently took her hand. “I’m not expecting anything right away. I just... I don’t want to ignore what I’m feeling. I care about you, Y/N.”

Y/N looked down at their joined hands, feeling a surge of emotion. “I care about you too, Chan. More than I thought I would.”

Their eyes met, and the tension between them was palpable. Chan leaned in slowly, his heart racing as he closed the distance between them. Y/N met him halfway, their lips touching in a gentle, tentative kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, a shared smile on their faces. Chan took Y/N’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Let’s take things slow, okay? We don’t have to rush anything.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes shining with affection. “I’d like that.”

As the days passed, Chan and Y/N’s relationship continued to develop. They navigated the complexities of their feelings while adjusting to their roles in each other’s lives. Chan’s career was still demanding, but with Y/N by his side, he felt more balanced and content. Their bond deepened, and they became a cherished part of each other’s lives.

Months later, as Chan, Y/N, and little Andrea sat together in their cozy living room, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and happiness. Chan glanced over at Y/N, who was smiling as she played with Andrea, and felt a profound sense of gratitude.

They had come a long way from the shadows of their past, finding sunshine in each other’s company. Chan knew that the journey wasn’t over, but with Y/N by his side, he felt ready to face whatever came next. He was sure, she was the one for him.