#hope ya enjoy another slice of life fic!

[a-jynx]

By the Stars & the Moon, I'll find you.

another angsty astarion idea, who knew! i hope you enjoy this lil idea, it's been racking my brain <3

once i romance some more characters in bg3, i'll hopefully be able to write about them as well!

um, so i am so deeply sorry? this fic got away from me (hint; this is why i put the poll for an extra-long fic or multiple parts...) i hope you still enjoy! <3

warnings: there are brief mention of smut, blood drinking, biting, killing of people, and the italicized/bold are either thoughts/memories!

word count; 7k

Dull sunlight broke through the curtains at the Elvin Inn, another little brothel lost on the edges of Baulder's Gate. The scent of ale and stale smoke filtered through the air, warm bodies stuffing themselves full of wine and liquor to help forget about their troubles, some even stuffing themselves into places that don't belong. You jumped as another body slammed into the booth next to you, jostling your ale from its mug. His putrid body odor smothered your sensitive smell.

"Hello, beautiful," his voice slurred as you rolled your eyes, slicing them towards him with a purse of your lips. "What're you doin' sittin' all by yourself?" His breath licked into your senses, making you gag before humming and taking a long sip from your ale. "Observing. People watching. However, you'd like to call it." You shrugged as he suddenly slung an arm around your shoulders, tugging your hood from your head and pulling you close. "Well, let me help you," his body pressed further into your side, his hand caressing your scarred neck. "That man over there," he paused, jutting his head towards the man surrounded by women. "He'll be set for life with his mistresses." He laughed, his body shaking yours as you huffed. Another sip. "That one?" Men were surrounding a young woman, her eyes low and her chest jumping with gentle laughter as a man curled into her, his hand tugging at her hair. "They'll end up married by the end of the night."

"You talk a lot for someone who observes." You mutter, downing the rest of your mug as he snorted. "I'm just tellin' ya what I observe, sweetheart," he suddenly grew closer. His hands grazed down your collarbone and the other rested against your lap. You snarled, pushing yourself away from his touch but his grip tightened. "Besides, I love observing someone else having-" You clenched your jaw, grabbing his chin with a tight grip.

"That won't be happening tonight for you, ale breathe." You hissed, splitting your lips into a grin as your fangs glittered in the dim lights. The man grew wide-eyed, his lips fumbling to make words as you licked at the sharp canines. "Though," you whispered, tugging him close as your lips ghosted his neck causing him to flinch into your hold. "I am feeling rather... Thirsty." The words slithered down his spine as tears cascaded down his cheeks, causing your smile to widen.

"Plea- Please, I have a family-"

"Yet, you hang around here until sundown." You grinned, releasing his chin and jumping forward, piercing his throat with a gargle as he thrashed against you. You sucked deeply. The copper and ale mixed heavenly on your tongue, coating your throat and emptying into your belly as he slumped against you. His blood dripped onto your chest as you licked up the stranded string dribbling down your chin. Your belly and chest felt warmer, soothed even. Moving his corpse to the other side of the booth, you stumbled back into your darkened seat, sighing contently. At least you got a meal out of the place...

"Any rooms will do, really." His voice pierced the air as you blinked, lips falling agape. "We'll only need it for a few nights." A stifled laugh left him as you lowered your head, quickly finding the new group of adventures that had wandered into the tavern. It couldn't be... It's been over 200 centuries since-

"Astarion, did you get us a room?" One of the women asked, her frown seemed plastered on her face while her arms crossed her chest. "Working on it, Shadowheart," his voice tightened as he leaned against the bar, flashing a... Dazzling smile. "What'd you say, handsome...? 300 coins for the next few nights?"

Astarion. Astarion Ancunín. But he escaped... Why did he come back?!

"Whatever, just know you'll never get a good night sleep here." Lonan warned while trading the vampire a key for some coins. All you could do was stare. Watching as he moved easily through the overcrowded tavern. He looked... Happy. Warm, even. His party followed behind him weaving through the tables and crowds. You quickly downed the last of your ale, cringing at the flavor that suddenly reminded you of stomach bile.

"We'll all be sharing, so I hope you and Lae'zel have worked out your differences." Astarion snickered, handing the key off to a man lavished in a dark purple robe, who rolled his eyes. "Behave, we just got this room and it'll be nice to have actual beds instead of sleeping on the hard ground." The man groaned, snatching the key as the others began to go upstairs, leaving the white-haired vampire to himself. It felt like the world had stopped as you turned your head, trying to hide your own ruby-colored eyes. "I'll be just fine Gale! I'll send up that cheap, vinegar wine for you and Wyll to share." He sent a wink as the man, Gale, rolled his eyes with a sigh before following the rest of their party upstairs. This was your chance.

You quickly moved out of the booth, your cloak catching the table causing the ale mug to go tumbling to the floor. A small group took notice of the noise but turned away, but of course... Of course, it had caught his attention. Yanking your cloak free, you tugged the hood over your head with a sigh before seeing his figure move in closer. Looking over your shoulder, you meet each other's gaze. Both parties too stunned to move - either fear or surprise - who could tell? You huffed out a sigh, watching as his nostrils flared - inhaling - and his eyes grew even wider as you took a few cautious steps back, turning away and moving towards the exit.

"Wait!" His voice cut through the loud bards' playing and the shouts of patrons as he pushed through them, following behind you. Gritting your teeth, you shoved a few staggering men into his path, quickly pushing out the door and out into the busy and bright streets. "Hey!" His voice broke through as he tried to shove past the men you threw his way, smirking, you quickly ran down the alleyway. Stumbling into the rough wall, you pushed off and ran down the corridor. Glancing back, you grinned as you saw him appear at the end you had just ran from. Standing for a moment, you looked at each other with your hands tickling the handle of your sword. His own weapon reflected the bright sun, your eyes widened as you took note of his body blanketed by the same ray. He's immune...?

"You shouldn't have come back, runaway." You spoke with a grin, flashing your fangs as he went to run towards you, an obvious snarl on his lips. You rolled your eyes, grabbing your cloak and dragging it over your body, disappearing into a puff of thick red smoke. Astarion stumbled over the cobblestone, growling as he stashed his dagger away. He'd lost his one up on Cazador. But he knew the spawn's face. He could find them again, and make sure their head became Cazador's warning that he's back in town...

**************

"Remind me why we had to leave that beautiful place again?" Gale groaned as Astarion led them through the thick forest. He had only told the party that he had seen of one Cazador's hunters and that the brothel - no matter how nice it was - was infested. "Astarion is the vampire expert, and he said if it was dangerous than I believe him." Shadowheart quipped, shifting her packs' weight with a sigh. "Besides, Halsin was getting antsy in there anyway." She couldn't fight back the grin as the taller elf shot her a sheepish grin.

"Alright, we should be far enough out that we won't have to worry about of Cazador's little leeches," he sighed, dropping his own pack with a grunt. He was being hopeful in the least. Who knows the length those spawns would go to bring him back to his shackles. Blinking away the memories, the party began to set up their shared camp, leaving Astarion to set up his own tent with ease. The soft duck pillows and blankets littering his camp softened the blow of the hard earth beneath him. The vanity in front of him held no image, causing his fingers to shake as he placed it on its desk. Dragging his fingers down the golden edges, all he could think was about the spawn from Elvins'. The dark cloak hugging them and hiding most of their... Condition. Those brilliant and glittering red gems seemed to glint when he chased them - they seemed excited. Thirsty for a hunt. His stomach lurched at the thought, his fingers shaking just like they did when he faced them in that alleyway.

Astarion jumped at the sound of Halsin cutting firewood, a quick sigh leaving his lips as licked at his fangs, allowing them to nick his tongue. His heart seemed to rattle against his chest as he rolled his shoulders, going into his tent and picking up one of the many books he had gathered on his party's venture. He would make a plan. A trap. He can easily best an overly eager spawn. He smiled to himself, he was going to get answers, one way or another.

**************

You moved carefully through the woods. Inhaling deeply, you were greeted with the angry scent of a burning fire and hints of different peoples' blood. Their bodies moving and pumping the intoxicating scent. Licking your teeth, you moved closer, already seeing the tents come into sight. How had no one else caught this spawn yet?

Your back slammed into a nearby tree as a sharp edge bit into your throat. A muffled shout left you as you met his bright, red eyes. You couldn't fight back the grin as he pressed himself further into you, the dagger carefully decorating your neck with a spot of blood. "Now, you're going to answer me and tell me everything I want to know," his voice came out thick, rough even. His hot breath panted against your cheek as you sucked your teeth.

"Ask away, runaway."

"Stop calling me that," he growled, pressing the blade harder as you hissed through clenched teeth, showing off your own fangs. Astarion blinked, your fangs weren't new. You were almost... As old as he was, as he could be. "Tell me who turned you. Who made you a spawn." He all but spat in what sounded like disgust. Anger. Disappointment. You swallowed thickly, moving your hand that had curled around his wrist that held the blade to your throat away, you revealed the other side of your neck. His eyes widened as he recognized the mark. His bite mark.

"Guess I wasn't as memorable as you were for me." You spoke dryly, sighing as he slowly dropped the pressure of his dagger. He took a small step back, staring at you with something you hated. Pity. "Don't look at me like I'm a lost pet," you spat, tugging your cloak trim closer. "You're just as lost as I am."

"Why're you here." He hissed, sleeving his dagger once again as you sighed, watching as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I came here to warn you-" Your back collided with the bark again, this time his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. Both hands shot up, gripping his wrist with a strangled wheeze.

"Warn me?! You should've run to warn your precious master," Astarion all but spit out each word as you hissed, digging your claws into his flesh with a growl. He barely flinched at the pain, merely hissing at the sting of your sharp nails.

"He's nothing to me! He abandoned me when I tried to save my-" You croaked, lips trembling as he growled, dropping you to the forest floor with a grunt. You gasped, grasping at your throat with a coughing fit. "Who did you save? Yourself? Shocking that a spawn would try anything against its master." He tsked, watching as you rose and leaned against the trees' bark, huffing deeply. Rubbing your sore neck, you rolled your eyes before slowly standing to your full height. "We never got along. Besides, I wanted out of that damned place for a long time." You spat out the last words, causing him to frown at you. He had caused this to fall onto you. You had been one of his first consorts for Cazador... One of his many firsts.

"I.. If you're looking for an apology, don't hold your breath. It's not in my nature, darling." He almost snorted with a huff. You rolled your eyes, taking a step towards him, crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't want an apology. What I want is your help."

"What?" He glanced at you, his brow perked up and with a slight tug of his lips. He may be hesitant, but he was intrigued. "What could I possibly help you with? And why would I even consider helping you?"

"You came back for a reason." You pointed, picking at your nails. "That reason has to do with Cazador. You want what he has, and to get that you'll have put that damned dagger through his heart," you hissed with a sickening grin. "Let me help you, and you help me." You stated matter-of-factly as he groaned, rubbing at his chin. "What could you possibly know about Cazador that I don't already know?" Astarion scoffed, waving his hands in the air as you carefully pulled off your hood, gently unclasping your cloak, tugging down your loose tunic. Turning around and presenting your back to Astarion, who stared with wide eyes at the infernal sigils carved jaggedly into your flesh.

"That he's planning to ascend." You almost whispered. His shock state makes you inhale deeply, quickly shrugging your cloak back on. Heat rose to your cheeks to the best of its ability as you turned to face him, sighing before meeting his eyes once more.

"And he needs us to finish the ritual."

********

"Tell me about the ritual," Astarion sat across from you as you glanced around his tent. It seemed more like a home than your cell or the room you rented at the Elvin Inn. "All of it." Turning back towards him, you reached into your satchel and pulled out a book. Flipping open and rifling through the pages, you thumbed through it until you landed on the stages.

"This is all I know of it. He's been planning this for centuries," you paused, turning the book towards him as he scooted closer, his fingers gently pressed against the yellow-tinted pages. "He must've had it planned since the night he changed you..." Your voice lowered as he glanced up at you through his lashes. "How can you be for sure? What if this was a- was a trap? A fake?" He laughed in his throat as you rolled your eyes, scooting closer and flipping the pages a few more times. Pointing at a few paragraphs as Astarion's eyes moved over the words. It was Cazador's own handwriting. This was his journal.

"How did you get this...?" His voice was low, barely a murmur as he turned to face you. His eyes were wide as he took in your features. You blinked once, twice, three times, before scoffing and leaning back from him - heat moved through your chilled figure. "It was simple, honestly... Cazador had me as his prized spawn," you scoffed out a laugh, picking at your nails once more before shrugging. "I was able to sneak into his quarters without much of a second thought. Everyone believed I was meant to be there, so I acted like it. I took the journal and ran,"

"How did you escape? You could've died from the sunlight-" Astarion scoffed, closing the book with a hard thump as you rolled your eyes.

"I waited, clearly." You spat, dragging your knees up to your chest with a sigh. "I listened to him tear apart his quarters and office trying to find it. He killed tens of us with such... Ease, that it felt as if I was dying every time, they hit the floor." Your voice was a small whisper, feeling tears well-up along your waterline. Astarion stared at you, brows furrowed, and his lips pulled in a tight frown.

"Do... Do you remember who he killed?" His voice was careful - like tiptoeing on ice. Ice that had already shattered and been refrozen.

"I only knew a few, maybe three of them, by name? They looked so different when they hit the floor," you turned your attention to your hands. Hard blood stained your palms while your fellow spawns' faces’ broke through your thoughts. Their screams echoing as you stared at the stained lines of your skin. "Teyona, Nyla, and... And Sebastian." You cut your attention towards Astarion, his face looked as if he'd seen a gnoll. You remembered how much Sebastian meant to Astarion, at least when he first turned him. They were more than spawn and consort - they were lovers. Until Cazador tricked them - him - just like he did to everyone in that foul castle.

"I'm sorry, I knew he meant something to you,"

"Please,” Astarion all but scoffed, but you could see the glossiness in his eyes. “That was centuries ago. Besides,” he reopened the book, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. “If Sebastian ever saw me, he’d probably try and run a stake through my heart.” A small smile graced his lips as you frowned. Sebastian had spoken about how Astarion tricked him, but he also spoke about how loved he felt... You shrugged, leaning into your knees with a muffled sigh. “You might’ve tricked him - lured him - but Sebastian talked about how much you poured love into it. He had to have known you might’ve cared more than let on.” He paused his page flipping, his lips pulled tight again. You could see the imaginative clogs clanking around in his head, you watched as he swallowed thickly. "Even if I did, it doesn't matter anymore," he paused, his eyes staring at the book, blankly. "He's dead." Astarion wettened his lips, his eyes flickering over the chicken scratch of your old master's handwriting. "You never told me what you'd be getting out of this little... Deal, we have on-going." Astarion's attention flickered to you for a moment as you cleared your throat.

"Does my part of the deal truly concern you?"

"No, but I'd rather know what the other party gets out of my sweet helpfulness." You couldn't fight the urge to roll your eyes. Nibbling at your lip, you grabbed the book from Astarion, who fought back for a second before releasing it to your grasp. Flipping a few pages towards the back, you landed on what looked like a list, or a note of some type. "Cazador was outraged when you fled, he took most of his anger out on the spawns' you had collected - myself included. For some reason, he took an interest when I fought back. I bit him, clawed at his clothes, ripped out his hair... Hells, I fought like I was going to die,"

"Because you would've." Astarion spoke quickly, his body facing towards you as you turned to look at him, already feeling the hot tears well up. "No... No, maybe in the end, but we were all part of his big plan. This," you held up the tattered journal, your hand shaking. "This ritual is what kept me alive. What kept you alive. He had to have planned this from the beginning." Your voice shook, tears spilling over and down your cool cheeks. Stomach twisting in tight knots as you dropped the book onto Astarions' carpeted tent floor, clenching your trembling hands into tight fists. His eyes flickered between the book and yourself, studying how you shook when speaking about this ritual - this ascension.

"Well, good to know I'm important for something." He laughed dryly, before standing and brushing himself off, glancing towards you. "When was the last time you fed?" You blinked at the question; your stomach seemed to twist even tighter at the mere thought. Standing up from your spot on the ground, you rolled your shoulders. "At the inn-"

"You fed on a drunk man?" Astarion released a loud, exaggerated laugh as you rolled your eyes, fighting back a grin as he wheezed. "That is fantastic, I'm shocked you were able to run from me,"

"And yet the great runaway spawn couldn't catch me, I suppose called me shocked as well." You released a short snort as Astarion placed his hands on his hips, rolling his eyes as he shouldered past you and outside his tent with you quick to follow. Darkness had already tucked away the world, leaving his companions to dream sweetly in their tents as you both moved towards the woods.

"You avoided the topic," Astarion broke the silence as you walked down a small pathway in the woods, towards a small clearing in a field. "Of what you'll be gaining from all of this. I mean," he paused, leaning against a tree and crossing his arms. "Cazador will want to send you to Avernus, only to bring you back and do it all over again." You merely shrugged. You knew the cost of doing this - all of it. Taking the book, tracking down and helping Astarion... Fighting for your past. You wandered around the tree, settling next a fallen branch while watching the gentle stream ahead of you both. "I understood the risk of doing any of this - escaping, taking the journal, seeking out you, hells even drinking from that patron would've gotten me buried." You licked at your dry lips, suddenly aware of how dry they felt. Astarion slinked closer to you, settling on the branch next to you as your knees knocked together, you flinched for a second but melted into the touch.

"I remember his methods well. He took... Everything from me. Everything I had in that time. My family, my childhood," he scoffed out a laugh. "Hells, he took my life." You glanced to the rogue, seeing his lips curve down and his eyes softened.

"This may sound... Utterly ridiculous," you whispered, causing Astarion to turn to you. "But I'm... Appreciative that you turned me." His eyes widened as you turned away, facing the stream once more. "I had nothing going for me. Any coin found or made was spent on ale, I flirted my way into a getting a roof over my head for the night but was always gone before sunrise, no true friends or family to seek me out," you paused, inhaling deeply while feeling Astarion's stare burned holes into the side of your head. "So, when you approached me, I thought it was just another way to get a warm bed but... Who knew I would wake up as someone else, in a dirty cell no less."

"You... You appreciate becoming a monster? Something that must stalk around at night because the sun would threaten to turn you to dust? Feeding on the blood of things with thinking minds? Forced to become someone else's puppet?" Astarion spat, each word dripping with venom as you snapped your head to him. His brows pinched together and a snarl on his lips, his fangs on display from his clenched teeth.

"I had no life before becoming a monster, Astarion!"

"So, it was better to be the puppet of someone monstrous than to try and make something of yourself?!" He snapped, standing from the limb as you followed. You felt your cheeks burn hot from embarrassment. Licking at your own fangs, you sighed. "No. No, it wasn't better. You know how he was - how he is. Beating us, belittling us, feeding us rodents for meals and laughing as we fought like dogs; afraid when our next meal would be, burying us beneath the earth and waiting for us to pop out like fucking daisies in the spring! That life wasn't better, but I had a roof. And people I considered to be a family - as messy and challenging as it was - is." You spat, huffing with tears blurring your vision once more. Quickly wiping them away with your wrists, you sniffled. "It wasn't better. You're right about that, but I am still appreciative because even though I miss the sun, I miss seeing the worlds' color, hells I miss seeing myself... I miss a lot of things, but everything I gained helps make up for it," you finally turned to face him, seeing his eyes had darkened harshly, but he had a look of... Confusion.

You sat in silence, just staring at one another before he ripped his attention away and standing from the fallen limb. Watching as he stalked away towards the stream, his arms crossed at his chest, leaving you to observe quietly. Watching as he pulled his dagger from its' hidden sleeve, and jumping as he threw it off to the right, causing your brows to furrow. Sitting quietly, you watched as he followed where his knife had flown, only to see him reappear with a rabbits' lifeless body. He struck its neck with his fangs, drinking from the dark, brown-furred animal, watching as the blood dripped past his lips and dribbled from his chin... You felt your mouth begin to water. Snapping his eyes open, he cut his eyes towards you before breaking away and tossing you the animal, you could only blink as he stalked back towards you, settling back into his spot. "Either drink from it, or give it back," he sighed, licking at the bloodied blade as you swallowed thickly, quickly striking it with your own fangs. Your eyes fluttered closed as you drank from the rabbit, humming softly before dropping it into your lap, licking at the crimson that smeared across your lips. You jumped as Astarions' thumb traced your bottom lip, tugging the fat drop of blood that had dripped down before he brought to his own mouth, suckling it gently. Warmth flooded your cheeks from the action. He stood abruptly, sleeving the dagger once more before he moved around the branch that had become your bench.

"Get your strength up, we will be needing it when we face our old... Acquaintances." He threw over his shoulder as he went down the path towards his camp. Inhaling deeply, you turned back towards the stream, licking at your lips before glancing down to the rabbit in your hands. Drinking from things with a thinking mind. Is that why he killed it first? No. Vampires usually love the hunt and the warmth from the blood... So, why kill it? You frowned, standing from your seat and moving towards the tree Astarion had leant against earlier, tugging your sword from its' sleeve. Flipping it in your hand, you used the handle to dig a hole in the loosened soil, placing the rabbit inside, and covering it up gently. Patting the soil softly, you stood, moving towards Astarions' camp as the night slowly became lighter. The day was coming quickly, and you were somehow excited to take it on.

**********

You did it.

You really did it.

You watched as Astarion landed on his haunches, blood splattered and smeared across his body while Cazador gurgled and choked on his blood. Your hands trembled as you stumbled towards them, falling next to Astarion as he gasped out before looking up, allowing a gut-wrenching cry to burst through. Tears cascaded down your cheeks, lightening the blood from your face. Dropping your sword as you glanced around, seeing your brothers and sisters drop from the rituals binds. A soft scoff-like laugh escaped your lips as you turned back to Astarion, reaching over and grasping his shoulder causing him to whip his head towards you.

"We did it..." Your voice shook as you suddenly thrusted yourself into him. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he stumbled, landing onto his backside with a small thump, his arm shaking before slowly wrapping around your back, holding you close. "We did it, star," you leaned back, your crimson eyes locking with his own, his pupils blown. You grew conscious of how your body rested against his, breathing in unison as your eyes grew wide. Star...? Star?! Why- Where did that name come from? You blinked, slowly falling from his lap and meeting the cold, stone floor, your palm slapping the thick puddle of blood as you lurched forward, your head feeling like it was being split by a pike.

Your body shook in pain as you clenched your eyes shut, gritting your teeth, feeling your fangs prick against your bottom lip. Astarion moved towards you, grabbing your shoulder and dragging your head back into his lap; his hand caressing your sticky cheek. "Relax, let it through, shhh," his voice became light years away as you shook against his grip.

Images flashed across your blackened vision; your hot skin pressed against his. Sweat clung to your bodies as you moved together, hair sticking against your forehead and nape. Astarion's mouth moved hungrily against yours, nipping at your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You licked into his mouth, deepening the kiss. His hands slid across your body, squeezing and pinching at your skin, leaving irritated scratches across your skin. His mouth moved on from your lips, the tip of his tongue licking along your throat, his lips pressing hot kisses against it.

"Astarion," you moaned, tilting your head back, allowing him access to your throat. His inhale shook as he pressed tighter kisses to your throat, gently nibbling at your pulse, causing your body to jolt. "Patience, darling," he whispered huskily against your throat, pressing open-mouth kisses down your shoulder, nipping at your chest. "Only good little pets get what they want." You moaned openly; one hand tightened into his bright, white curls before tugging his lips back to your own. You bit his bottom lip, tugging it between your teeth. "Show me the stars, Astarion," you pressed another hungry kiss to his lips, smirking as he moaned into it. His mouth moved down your neck once more, hovering over your thundering pulse before he pierced it with his fangs. You've never moaned louder.

You withered against Astarion's lap, gasping as one of your hands shot out, wrapping tightly around his tattered and blood-covered tunic. Your scream pierced through the somewhat silent basement.

Your giggled echoed through the spawn dorms. Astarion cradled you close while playfully glaring. "You're going to get us into trouble," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as you turned into him, cuddling closer. You couldn't hold back your smile. "Well, excuse me for being excited about you finally asking me to be yours," you smirked as he scoffed, rolling you both over to where he hovered over you, a small smile on his lips.

"Nyla was starting to think you were stringing me along," you chuckled as Astarion rolled his eyes, pressing another kiss to your lips. You sighed into the affection, wrapping your arms around his neck and dragging him closer to you. With your foreheads pressed tightly together, Astarion slowly pulled back, his soft breathing barely tickling your lips. You could see the twinkle in his bright, red eyes as they stared back into your own. "You look like you're thinking," you mumbled, smiling again. "That's quite dangerous for you." Astarion scoffed at you, rolling onto his back next to you, still keeping you tangled close. "Only you would consider my thinking dangerous," he snipped, pressing another kiss to your cheek. "I have many great ideas, like for instance, making you into a breath-taking," he pressed a kiss into your hair. "Talented." Another to your nose. "Skillful." Another kiss to your lips. "Dangerous spawn," his voice trailed off as his lips trailed down your neck, placing his last kiss against your vampiric scar. "Just like me." You turned your face towards him, smiling softly while staring at one another. The world around you seemed to blend together.

"I believe you are the promise of perfection in my eyes, my Star," you whispered, reaching up and caressing his cheek, brushing your thumb against the apple of his cheek. He blinked, mouth falling slightly agape as he broke into a small grin, turning towards your palm and pressing another kiss against your roughened skin. "We share a similar view, my Moon." He murmured against your skin, as you stared at one another, just loving each other's touch. "Promise me something, Astarion," you lowered your voice as he furrowed his brow, sitting up on his elbow as he leaned over you. "Promise me we'll get out here... Promise we'll find a way out of here, and a way to be just us." You stared up at him with hope glittering in your eyes. Lovestruck eyes. Astarion stared at you, his lips agape once more as he leaned down, pressed a soft, love-filled kiss to your lips. He knows... He knows you may never escape this. Your lips moved together, pressing hungrily into each other. But that doesn't mean he won't try.

Your eyes snapped open, seeing Astarion holding onto your cheeks, keeping your head still against his thighs as you looked around wildly. You could feel each individual swell of sweat as you curled your hands into your blood-soaked tunic. He hushed you gently, rubbing his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks.

Astarion ran ahead of you, his grip on your wrist tight - tighter with each step. You stumbled over the steps as you both rushed through Cazador's palace. Your supposed brother and sister's running after you - shouts of how you were disgusting traitors following you through the hallways. Turning a sharp corner, you slammed into the wall with a loud shout as Astarion glanced back to you, gritting his teeth as he saw your family behind you.

He swore to find a way to protect you. Protect what you had. To find a way for both to escape the abuse and hardship that followed behind the Cazador home life. And he did, he had found a way out for you - for you both. The only problem is trying to reach it without dying.

Turning another corner, you stumbled into Astarion's back, gasping as you looked around. The ballroom door was shut. And locked. You blinked, your grip on Astarion's hand tightened ever slightly as you both turned, him stepping behind you as he looked around, fear and dread suddenly licking up the back of his neck. He had brought you - his darling, his moon - into the mouth of danger itself. A few controlled spawns surrounded you as the room grew thick with dread. Astarion drew his dagger with a glare, his jaw ticked with anger, teeth grit tightly together.

"Drop your weapon, Astarion, make this simple work before Master joins in the fun," the twisted and eerie voice of your sister, Teyona snickered. Your bottom lip trembled as you tightened your grip on Astarions' tunic. You bared your fangs as he kept his arm out, trying to keep your body behind him. "Just let us go, Tey! Please," your voice wobbled as she tilted her head, her eyes darkening. "I am begging you to let us go! Before Cazador comes! We used to plan our escapes while locked in our cells, dreamed of a knight coming to our rescue!" You felt hot tears dripping down your cheeks, your hands trembling in Astarion's grasp as his eyes darted around the room. "Astarion is my knight! He is my rescue that we've always begged for!"

"Why would I release you when Master has a bigger plan for you." Teyona hissed before rushing towards you both. Astarion slashed at her, but she dodged easily, snickering as she stood tall. "Get them!" A wave of your supposed family washed towards you, fangs and claws bared. Astarion slashed, stabbed and even bit at who was considered your kin. Drawing your sword from its sleeve, you slashed across the vampiric crowds, jumping when a pair of claws slashed across your arm, ripping your flesh as Astarion growled, jumping forward and stabbing his stained dagger into the enemies' chest. Baring his fangs as he twisted it before preparing another strike. Blood splattered and sprayed across the floor, more bodies crumbling and crashing into the marble flooring. The crimson decorating the floor smeared and colored your clothes. You went to turn towards Astarion, thinking him closer than he was, you met the face of Nyla, who you believed to be your true sister in your shared rebirth. She bared her fangs as you stared at her, your sword trembling in your hand as you felt bile rise up in your throat.

"Ny-Ny, please..." You whispered, biting the tip of your tongue as you took a step back, swallowing as she tsked, surging towards you. "No!" You tossed your sword away, tossing up both of your arms to block her blows. Her teeth sank into your forearm, her claws digging into your flesh as an inhuman scream breached your lips. Astarion whipped around at the sound, eyes wide and mouth agape as he struck down the last spawn beside him. "No!" He moved towards your struggle on the ground, only to skid to a stop as... As Sebastain appeared in front of him.

"Hello, Astarion, going somewhere?" The other spawn grinned, their usually shared red eyes, darkened as Astarion bared his fangs at his former consort. "Get out of my way, Sebastain, do not make me your enemy." His voice slightly shook. Sebastain tilted his head, his long, black hair sliding past his shoulder. Your screams and the left-over spawns seemed to melt into the background. "Why stay and fight, hmm? Your... Little Moon will only be the one to sign your away your last breath." He snickered, sauntering towards Astarion, whose dagger slowly lowered. "Don't you see?" He paused, standing beside Astarion with a sad smile. "They couldn't even kill the threat in front of them," his voice slithered into Astarion's ear, making his lip tremble as he glanced down at his dagger. He should stab him. He should've already killed Sebastain and been at your side, getting out of here, heading towards freedom... So, why were his feet still firmly planted in the thick puddle of blood?

"Run." Astarion snapped his head towards Sebastain as he appeared back in front of him, a sickening smile on his lips. "Run away while you still can, because if you drag that... Cargo alongside you? You'll be dead before you hit the streets."

"No. No, they're my lover! I wouldn't leave them even if it meant-"

"Dying? Are you really willing to pay your life for someone who couldn't even protect themselves? How can you trust they'll be there when you need them most...? How do you know they won't take that dagger," Sebastain paused, his fingertip pressing against the drying tip of his dagger, causing his eyes to follow it. "And stab it right into your back." Astarion jumped at the thought. You wouldn't. You were his moon, and he your star. You both had thought of a plan to escape and live out your long, long lives together... So, why did he feel his heart jump at the thought of freedom... Alone?

"Go. Go far, far away, while you still can, my Star," Sebastain cackled as the ballroom doors' swung open, causing you both to shoot your attention towards them. Your eyes met, locking onto one another, as you kicked and pushed against Nyla's body. Blood leaked and spluttered around her mouth as you sent a swift kick to her abdomen, knocking her off. "Astarion! Help me!" You pushed up onto your good arm, pressing your bleeding forearm against your chest. Astarion stared at you, his hand trembling as he blinked back tears. "Star...?" Your voice was barely audible as he sighed, rushing out the heavy metal doors, them slamming shut behind him. You stared in disbelief, your mouth agape and tears building along your waterline, quickly dripping down your cheeks. "Astarion..." His name became a whisper on your lips.

You jumped when Cazador's office door slammed open, the remaining spawn standing at ready as he slowly moved towards you. A sickening smile on his lips as he stood in front of you. "Well, well, look what the love-drunk spawn forgot," he leant down, capturing your throat in a tight grasp. You gagged and dug your nails of your good arm into his wrist, gritting your teeth. "His little love." His voice dripped with anger, before slowly rising with your toes barely brushing the marble floor. "Lock them in the cell. I'll have to think of some... Punishments for their naughty, naughty behavior." He turned, throwing your body towards the basement elevator. You slid across the hard floor, a howl escaping your throat as you grasped your thrumming side. The other, loyal spawn surrounded you as Cazador's control slowly slipped away as he moved back into his office. Nyla, Teyona, and Sebastain, the three other spawns they had bonded with, the only ones who made them believe that they were capable of having a loving family....

"Forgive us, please," Nyla whispered, helping Teyona pick you up as Sebastain stayed quiet, following as they all walked towards the elevator. Dread filled your bloody and aching body, you wanted to beg, plead, bargain even! Just kill you. Send you to Avernus if you must, just don't let him touch you... You would rather burn for all your lives, than be given to Cazador as a beating bag... Your mind drifted towards Astarion... The look on his face as he ran through the doors, not even looking back to you. No second glance, nor second thought. But he was free... Right? Your fellow spawn locked you into Cazador’s cells, quietly leaving as you sat, listening to the echoing drips, each one making your body jolt. Your tears silently continued while tugging your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly.

You jumped at the elevator descending again, swallowing thickly at the bile that had worked its way up your throat. Boots echoed through the silent prison, only to stop in front of your cell. “Hello, worm… Now,” Cazador held a twisted and gnarled dagger, its blade almost seemed to wink at you in the dim candlelight. “How shall we begin?”

Cazador tortured you for days and nights. Each day led to something far worse than the last, he had carved jaggedly and twisted sigils into your flesh - breaking your flesh as your screams echoed through the prison. He constantly revisioned. Each memory surged into your mind, bullying its way into your soul while you seemed to relive each method. Cutting into your skin, thrown sick or rotting rats into your cell and forcing you to eat them to keep yourself from starvation, tempting you with blood of your siblings - forcing your jaw open and forcing you to drink from them - killing them. Their bodies cracked against the cold stone, your choked sobs bouncing around you as you fought back to swallow their hot blood. Cazador merely laughed, smirking at your distraught, shaking figure.

Images of his blood in your nails pushed forward. His deep scream as he clutched his forearm, his through his teeth. “Vile, imbecile of a child!” He screamed, grasping your throat with his good hand. “If you believed in any Gods before this,” he spat, curling his dagger-like nails into your flesh, a guttural scream erupting from you as you flailed, kicking and scratching at him. “You should begin begging for mercy in their powerless names!” He shouted, spit flying across your face as you screamed. Your hands moved first, scratching across his arm and shoulder, his smile never ceased. He buried you deep beneath the earth. Splinters cut and sank into your skin, dirt and congealed blood clotted your throat and face, your nails broken and peeled back as you broke through the brittle dirt. Gagging and coughing up that stuck to your dry throat, as you sucked in the crisp night air, only to shake as you glanced up, seeing his smirking face. “Hello… Worm.”

Every form and piece of torture, Cazador forced you to beg out in Astarion’s name. To call out to your cowardice lover, to curse his name and all that may become of him. You would scream out for him, begging for him to rescue you each time you were cut deeper, kicked or hit harder, starved longer… Buried deeper. But, each time, you slowly forget the sight of him. The smell of him. The name of him. The mere memory of him… Whoever ‘him’ used to be. All these memories flooded away, but you could still hear his gentle voice whisper in your ear when your punishments were on the severe side. His trembling voice begging for you to stay alive. To keep fighting. To find him.

You gasped, coughing and retching as Astarion released his tight grip, his eyes darting all over your face as you rolled onto your knees, coughing and gagging from the memories. You snapped your head towards Cazador's draining body, grabbing your sword from where it landed from rolling out of your grip. You slid through the thick blood, swinging it down against his body. Once. Twice. Three times, continuing to heave the piece of steel into his muscle and bones. Tears quickening as you slam the final blow into his deformed skull; a bone-chilling scream leaving your lips as Astarion crawled behind you, dragging you into his chest, holding you tightly.

"Shh, shh, my Moon, it's okay," he whispered into your hair, caressing you as you spun in his arms, wrapping them snug around his neck and smashing your lips against his own, mouths moving together. Teeth and tongues smashing together in a wrestle for dominance or desperation - who could tell. You gasped, leaning back, yet keeping your hands tightly wrapped in his hair.

"My Star, by the Gods I should drive a stake through your heart for leaving me here all those centuries ago, you... You Gnoll-haired toad!" You hissed, pressing more kisses to his skin as he sighed into it, digging his fingers into your clothes while tugging your bodies closer. "I regretted leaving you the moment I stepped foot outside," he whispered into your skin, heaving as you breathed him in. Not caring of your siblings seeing the love and tender touches. You waited centuries to hold your promised lover. Your star. "I should've grabbed you. I should've killed Nyla and brought you with me, held you closer..." His lip trembled as your thumb gently caressed it, staring into his glistening eyes. "Gods, I should've slaughtered everyone that day because I love you."

You sighed, pressing your mouths together once again. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces that had missed each other. Pressing another kiss to your cheeks and any free skin, he ripped the cloak from your body and pressed a deep kiss to your vampiric mark. His mark.

"As much as I should maul you," you sighed, your lips slowly breaking into a grin. "I love you more than the want to harm that pretty face." He rolled his eyes, pressing another kiss to your lips as you sighed into him. You had each other now, losing the sun was worth finding each other, however... Now, you had a new problem; how're you supposed to get an illithid tadpole removed from your lost lover's brain?

*******

Well, I did ask if you guys wanted a long fic! I hope you enjoyed, and I do look forward to writing for you in the future! <3 ~ Jae

[corroded-hellfire]

Where the Heart Is: Epilogue - Eddie Munson x Reader

Part 5

Summary: It’s moving day and the next chapter of your life with Eddie is beginning. And somewhere down the road, pieces of your heart collide with one another, making your anniversary all the more meaningful.

Note: The story has finally come to its close. It amazes me that this was never intended to be a series at all—it turned into one purely because it became so requested of me. It’s been a year since this fic first posted and the number of you who have stood by all this time to see it to the end hold such a special place in my heart. Thank you all for your kind words, generous reblogs, and all the love I’ve received over this story. I have loved writing in this world and would always be open to receiving requests in it. I hope you enjoy this little slice of their happily ever after 🧡

Words: 4.6k

[Where the Heart Is masterlist]

“Jesus Christ, Munson.”

Steve sits down on the edge of the U-Haul, trying to catch his breath after shoving Eddie’s amp on board. The bed of the moving truck is decently full already. The Harrington household was the first stop, and Steve’s things bound for Boston were loaded yesterday. 

Today at the Munsons, it’s time to do the heavy lifting. Well, for Eddie and Steve to do the heavy lifting. Not to say that you and Nancy aren’t helping, but you have the easier job of loading up the back of Eddie’s van with boxes full of clothes and other smaller and more delicate objects that are certainly lighter than the alternative. 

“What’re ya whining about now, Harrington?” Eddie says, sweat dripping from the curls that frame his face. His hair is in a bun at the base of his neck but it’s not enough to keep him cool in the late August heat. 

“That amp weighs more than your bed did,” Steve says. 

“No shit,” Eddie argues, wiping his sweaty forehead off on the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Because one is a mattress and a basic frame to hold it up and the other is a goddamn expensive piece of musical equipment. I hope you didn’t ding it at all.”

“I’ll ding you,” Steve mumbles under his breath as he stands back up.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Nothing, nothing,” Steve says as he hops up the steps back into the trailer. 

“How ya doing, babe?” you ask, coming over to Eddie after carrying a box of his D&D stuff over to his van. 

“Hot. Sweaty. Tired.”

“Aww,” you coo and wrap your arms around his neck. It doesn’t matter in the slightest to you that he’s all sweaty—you’ve been the cause of him getting sweaty many times before. Eddie rests his hands on your hips and pecks your lips. 

“Eddie!” Wayne calls from inside.

“Yeah?” 

“Are you bringing your desk?”

Your boyfriend chews on his bottom lip, deliberating. “Well, do you wanna keep it?”

“What the hell do I need a desk for?” Wayne asks, making you chuckle. 

“Okay, we’ll take it.” Eddie huffs a laugh and gives your hip a squeeze.

“I’m glad that Wayne’s getting a proper bedroom back,” you say.

“And I’m sure he’s glad that we’re bringing the old bed with us and he’s getting a new one. I don’t think he’d get much sleep on it thinking about what you and I have done on it.”

“That doesn’t even include you on your own for years before that,” you tease. Eddie digs his fingers into your ribs, making you squeal and giggle as he tickles you.

Nancy comes out of the trailer, balancing two medium sized boxes in her arms. She raises her eyebrows at Eddie as she walks past him to get to his van.

“Wayne looks like he’s planning on helping Steve carry that desk out here. I’d get your ass in there,” she warns.

Eddie sighs. “Ugh, stubborn old man.” He kisses the top of your head before disappearing inside his home—or rather, former home. 

You walk over and help Nancy load up the two boxes she just brought out. Both of you walk over towards the U-Haul and Nancy smacks her hand against the side of it.

“I am not looking forward to driving in this thing with Steve all day,” she says. “He’s never driven something this big but of course he’d never admit that it’ll be difficult.”

You chuckle and nod along, knowing your boyfriend would be the same way. You open your mouth to respond when you hear yelling coming from inside.

“No, tilt it like this!”

“I know what I’m doing!”

“Remind me to never let you work on my car if this is the way you handle things!”

Nancy sighs and shakes her head.

“Do you think it’s too late to tell them that they can’t move in with us?” she asks. 

Once everything is on the truck and ready to go, Steve and Nancy say their goodbyes to Wayne and slip into the front seats, giving you and Eddie the chance for a more private farewell. You give Wayne a big hug, which he happily returns.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him,” you promise.

Wayne chuckles and shakes his head as the two of you pull apart. 

“Just worried about how long before you call me to come pick him up ‘cause you’ve had enough of him.”

“Never,” you assure Wayne, taking one of his weathered hands in yours and giving it a squeeze.

“You heard her,” Eddie says, nodding his head towards you. “She’s never letting me go. I’m gonna be a prisoner.”

“Locked up in a nice Boston apartment with your girl and two of your best friends,” Wayne says, shaking his head. “When will justice be served?” 

When you step back from Wayne, you’re not sure if Eddie wants you to stay or go wait in the van while he says goodbye to the man who raised him. When your boyfriend playfully tugs your ear on the way to his uncle though, you take it as it’s fine for you to be here. 

“Well, I’ll see ya soon, Old Man,” Eddie says as he pulls Wayne in for a hug. 

“You drive safe, okay?” Wayne asks, his hand clapping his nephew on the back as they hug. “And I mean real safe, not ‘Eddie safe,’ okay? You got precious cargo there you’re carrying.” Wayne throws you a wink over Eddie’s shoulder. 

“Oh, I know,” Eddie says. He pulls back and sighs. “Gotta make sure my guitar gets to Boston unharmed.”

Wayne shakes his head and turns to you. “He ever acts up, just smack him on the back of the head. Like this.”

“Ow!” Eddie complains, reaching up to cover the spot where his uncle just thunked him. With a small giggle, you nod your head, affirming that you’ll know what to do.

There’s a brief moment of silence before Eddie sighs and claps his hand onto Wayne’s shoulder. 

“You take care, you hear me? Don’t make me start sending Red over here to check on you. Or maybe I’ll just call Abigail.”

At the sound of his new girlfriend’s name, Wayne rolls his eyes. 

“I can take care of myself. I’ll see you up there in Boston for Thanksgiving,” he says.

Eddie nods. He goes to take a step towards the van but twists and gives Wayne another hug instead.

“Thanks for everything, Wayne. I mean it. For everything.”

“You’re a good kid,” Wayne says as he hugs him back, tighter than the last time, you notice. “‘M proud of you, son.”

By the time they break apart, your eyes have misted over. Blinking away the tears seems to help, but one or two manage to escape and slide down your cheeks. 

Eddie walks over and laces his fingers with yours. 

“Ready, sweet girl?”

“Let’s go.”

The two of you hop into the van and, ahead of you, Steve starts up the truck. Eddie’s van rumbles to life and you just pray this thing makes it to Boston. Perks of having a mechanic for a boyfriend, though, are that you don’t have to wait around forever to have some mechanic come by and check it out, then fork out the big bucks for whatever is wrong with it. 

Eddie puts the van in drive and follows Steve down the road, towards the exit of Forest Hills. Dark brown eyes flick up towards the rear-view mirror. Eddie watches the front door to the trailer close behind Wayne and takes a long look at the home he grew up in. It’s small, old, and not in the best condition. But it’s where he’s lived his life and had some of the best times he’s ever had. It’ll be weird to him to have a new home. To be in a new city. In a new state. But he’s excited. Excited to turn the page and start this next chapter of his life with you. 

Rough, callused fingers find yours as you pull out of the trailer park. You intertwine your fingers with his and bring his hand up to your hand for a kiss. 

“You okay, handsome?” you ask.

The grin he gives you makes your breath catch in your chest. You’ll never get over how breathtakingly beautiful he is. The way his curls frame his face just right and how his long eyelashes brush his cheeks every time he blinks. 

“Me?” Eddie asks. “Never been better, baby.”

If Steve and Eddie thought that getting furniture out of both their houses and into the truck was hard, they’re in for a nasty surprise. The apartment you’re all sharing is on the second floor of the off-white building the moving van and Eddie’s truck are parked in front of. Both Steve and Nancy’s cars are parked behind the building, in a small private lot. Steve had driven his car here and then flown back with Nancy before the move. 

“Ah, Jesus,” Steve sighs as he takes a look at the staircase the two of them will be maneuvering furniture up. 

One of the advantages of living close to the school though, is that students are always around, either passing through or lodging somewhere nearby. Luckily, two guys from your and Nancy’s English class last semester come out of the apartment building next to yours. 

“Whoa, need some help?” One of the guys, Jerry, asks when he sees the U-haul stuffed to the brim with furniture and boxes. 

“Boys?” Nancy asks, turning to face your boyfriends. “Will your pride allow you to let others help?”

“Shit, my pride got knocked out of me the second time I dropped my dresser on my foot,” Eddie says. He turns to Jerry and offers his hand. “We’d appreciate that, man.”

With the help of Jerry and his friend Rich, all of the furniture and belongings are moved into apartment 286 within a few hours. The two good Samaritans wouldn’t accept pizza and beer as a thank you, just insisted helping was no trouble and it counted as their workout for the day. 

Between the loading of the vehicles, the long drive, then the unloading of the vehicles, the four of you are thoroughly exhausted. All of the furniture is still in pieces and none of you care beyond making sure each bedroom has the right mattress in it for your inevitable crashes tonight. 

“Thank God the bedrooms are on opposite sides of the apartment,” Eddie says to you as you walk out from your shared bedroom. 

“I said the same thing to Nance not ten minutes ago,” Steve says. He sets down a box labeled “Living Room” in big black letters. “I don’t wanna hear a damn thing that’s gonna go on in that room of yours.”

“Glad we could finally agree on something,” Eddie says as he slings an arm over your shoulders.

“That’s fine,” Nancy says as she comes out of her and Steve’s room. “But you know we will talk about what goes on in there to each other, right? Girl code and all.”

“Girl code consists of telling each other what goes on in the bedroom?” Steve asks, eyebrows so high they’re practically hidden in his hair. 

“Not everything,” you say to placate the men. Even though, obviously, you and Nancy do discuss just about everything that goes on in there with each other. What else are you supposed to talk about when getting coffee together?

“Okay, I’m starving,” Eddie says, resting his free hand on his stomach. “Please tell me we have a goddamn phone book so I can order some food.”

Pizza is ordered and delivered, and since none of you had brought a couch to your new home, the four of you sit on the floor in the middle of what will become your living room as you eat it. Steve pours a cup of Pepsi for everyone, and you all raise your red solo cups. 

“What should we toast to?” you ask. 

“A smooth semester,” Nancy says.

“To Munson and I finding good jobs here,” Steve adds. 

“And to the many adventures we’re gonna have and how they’ll make everyone back in Hawkins completely jealous,” Eddie says. 

“Let’s try and keep them in this dimension, yeah?” you say.

“Deal,” Eddie replies.

“To our new beginnings!” you say as you lift your cup. 

The four of you tap your cups together, being careful not to be too hard lest you spill some. 

It’s an early night, considering how exhausted you all are. That’s why when you come out of the bathroom, yawning and rubbing your tired eyes, the last thing you expected to see when you walked into your room was Eddie plugging in a strand of multicolored Christmas lights. The strings of lights are draped over piles of boxes, Eddie’s dresser, your bedside table, and a bookshelf you’d brought. 

The lamp connected to the fan on the ceiling is still on, so it’s hard to really see the glow emanating from the little bulbs.

“What’s all this?” you ask, tapping your fingernail against one of the small red lights. 

“Well,” Eddie says as he stands up from his crouched position, “I remember you told me at Christmas you would hang lights in your room and watch them blink and shine as you fell asleep. And, I mean, I know it’s not Christmas time, but I figured these lights might make you happy anyway.”

Your face feels stuck between a grin and a cry as you walk over to your boyfriend. His cheeks are warm as you cup them in your hands and press a kiss to his lips.

“I love them. I love you,” you say softly. “They do make me happy. But you make me the happiest.” You take another look around the room, watching the different colors do their best to be seen in the brightly lit room. “These lights kind of follow us, huh?”

Eddie chuckles and nods his head. “Pretty sure we have custody of them by this point.”

“Maybe tomorrow we can hang them up? Like they were in the van?” you ask. “I mean, who needs crown molding when you have Christmas lights?”

Eddie chuckles and runs his hands up and down your arms.

“God, I can’t believe this is our room. That I get to fall asleep next to you every night and wake up to you each morning.”

“And some fun stuff in between.” You smirk and raise an eyebrow at him.

“Think we should christen the room?” Eddie asks.

Instead of answering, you get down on the mattress that’s on the floor while the bed frame is still dismantled. You pull your pajama shirt up over your head and toss it behind you.

“Pants off, Munson.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” 

Eddie practically hops out of his pants and throws them in a corner. He yanks the longer chain attached to the ceiling fan and the main light goes dark. Dozens of pretty lights twinkle and dance as you take in the strands around the room. The only word you can come up with to describe how it looks is magical. 

There’s a dip on the bed next to you and you look over to see Eddie stripping himself of his shirt as he sits down. He lays back against his pillows and opens his arms for you.

“Come on, baby,” Eddie says. “Let’s fool around on our bed.”

Three Months Later

The apartment is fuller than you’ve ever seen it. You’re in the kitchen, checking on the green bean casserole that you made. Your friends and boyfriend unanimously decided you should be in charge of the side dishes for Thanksgiving because you’re the best cook. Nancy has been making cookies for the last few days with Holly, who flew in for the holiday. That left Eddie and Steve in charge of the turkey. You’re not sure how that’ll go, and if you made a few too many side dishes in case the bird ends up inedible, so what?

“Oh, sweetie?”

You turn around from washing off your hands in the kitchen sink to see Steve’s mom standing before you with the pumpkin and apple pies she brought. 

“Can I help you, Mrs. Harrington?” you ask.

When she smiles you immediately know where Steve acquired that feature. Similarly, Mr. Harrington, who is out in the living room talking with Wayne, has the same eyes and nose as his son. They share the same confidence too, even if Mr. Harrington’s sometimes borders on cocky.

“Did you want the pies in the fridge?” Mrs. Harrington asks.

“Oh! Yes, please.” You open the refrigerator door and carefully take the desserts from her and lay them near the carton of milk. “I’ll put those in the oven after everyone is done with dinner.”

Mrs. Harrington takes one of your hands in hers and gives it a soft squeeze.

“Take a deep breath, dear. I know it can seem overwhelming, but you’re doing great. Everything smells delicious. If you need any help, you let me know, okay?”

“I will,” you agree. “Thank you.”

She gives you one last kind smile before walking back out to the living room. 

Somehow, you feel calmer after just those few words from Mrs. Harrington. You’ve never even met her before today, but her nurturing presence was comforting. It’s a melancholy feeling because you’ll never have that with your own mother. As much as you’ve accepted that, it still finds a way to sting every now and again. 

A ding on the oven lets you know that the biscuits are done. Once you’ve gotten them out of the oven and given the stuffing a few stirs, you see someone come into the kitchen out of the corner of your eye.

“There’s my favorite cook.”

You giggle and step forward to hug Wayne. You’d hugged him when he arrived earlier, but you’re stealing another one now anyway. 

“And look at that!” Wayne says. “Wearing the apron I got you for Christmas last year.”

“Oh, I wear this every time I cook,” you tell him proudly, looking down at the turquoise material tied around your waist. There are a few stains here and there despite your best efforts to keep it pristine. 

Eddie pops into the kitchen claps a hand against Wayne’s back before coming to stand next to you.

“Need any help, babe?” he asks. 

“Actually, I think dinner is just about ready. Help me set the table?”

“No way,” Wayne says with a shake of his head. “You worked hard cooking all this for us, Eddie and I will get everything out on the table.”

The dishes exit the kitchen one by one, to be laid out on the dining room table and Eddie’s old desk that have been pushed together and covered with a burnt sunset tablecloth. The chairs are mismatched as well, but you all had to work with what you’ve got. 

Once it seems like everything has been situated, you take a deep breath. It’s out of your hands now. All you can do is hope people enjoy the food you made. 

Everyone is gathering around the table, sitting down in front of lovely place settings that Nancy worked very hard on. Mr. and Mrs. Harrington take two seats at the far end of the table. Steve sits down next to his father at the head of the table, with Nancy on his other side. Holly giggles about something Steve said as she slides in the chair next to her big sister. 

Wayne slips past you and takes a seat next to Mrs. Harrington. The second head of the table, opposite Steve, is free and you give a little bow and motion for Eddie to take it. He chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

The two empty place settings on either side of Eddie seem to stare at you. The extra chairs mock you as you look over the people sitting at the table in your home. Steve and his parents, Nancy and her little sister, Eddie with his uncle. Family. Not just the individual ones, but as a collective group. The four of you who live in this apartment have brought the people in their lives into all of your lives. It’s an extension of a family that keeps going on and on. 

“Ah,” Eddie says as he hops up from his seat. “Forgot the wine that Wayne brought.” He gives your lips a quick peck before walking into the kitchen. You can’t help but smile as you watch him. This is where you belong. Eddie is your family and your home. 

The quiet knocking pulls you out of your latest Eddie-zone-out. It sounds again and you realize someone is knocking on the front door.

“I’ve got it,” you say as Steve starts to stand. 

The cold doorknob bites your hand as you twist it to reveal who’s standing there. At first your eyes are too high, catching on a familiar face but not quite the one that fills you with glee. When you look down, there she is. Large, inquisitive eyes, wide smile, and two pigtail braids to top off her lovely purple dress. 

They’re here. You’d extended the invitation to your sister months ago, but never heard back. That wasn’t unusual of your sister, but it did complicate your planning. Nancy insisted that you have the extra place settings and chairs for them just in case. Though you truly believed it would all be in vain, you agreed. 

Tears collect along your waterline, and you know it won’t be long before they’re leaking down your face. 

“I am so happy you’re here. Look at how tall you got!” You lean down and Chloe instantly jumps into your arms. The hug you give her is as tight as it can possibly be without hurting her. “I missed you so much!”

“I missed you, too!” Chloe says as she pulls away and you stand up. 

More surprising than opening your front door and seeing your sister and niece, your sister leans in and pulls you into a hug.

“It’s really nice to see you,” she says.

As stunned as you are, you manage to hug her back. It’s a warm and comforting hug—something you never thought you’d get from her again. 

“It’s nice to see you too, Melanie.” You find yourself actually meaning those words. This is certainly no indication that things will become more stable between the two of you, but at least it’s a nice gesture on a holiday.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” you tell both of them, but give Chloe a wink. “Eddie? Babe?”

He steps out of the kitchen, wine bottle in hand, and his head swivels as he searches for you. You see his eyes take in you, then the woman and little girl who look very similar to you. A grin lights up his face and you just know how happy he is for you. He sets the wine bottle down on the table and walks over to you. The closer he gets, the shyer Chloe becomes. Though she’s too big for it now, she tries to hide herself behind your legs. 

“Eddie, this is my sister Melanie and my niece Chloe,” you say. 

Your boyfriend squats so he can be on more of an even level with the girl. He offers a hand to her.

“It’s nice to meet my girlfriend’s favorite person,” he says. 

Chloe still looks a little unsure, but she comes out from behind your legs just enough to shake his hand. 

“I think that’s you,” she tells Eddie softly.

“Why’s that?” Eddie tilts his head in curiosity. 

“Because she’s never smiled like that when she’s looked at me before.” Chloe looks up at you, now a speechless mess, and then lowers her head to look at Eddie again. “When you came outta the kitchen. It was a big, big smile. I never seen her smile that big before.”

Heat rises to your face as your niece calls out your terminal case of lovesickness. Eddie doesn’t seem to know what to say either as he stands back up and takes your hand in his. 

“Let’s, um. Let’s all sit down before the food gets cold,” you suggest. In your frazzled state, you forgot you didn’t exactly introduce your sister and boyfriend properly. You quickly remedy the situation and let them shake hands and have a polite greeting while you bring Chloe to the other side of the table where you’re sitting. 

“Here we go,” you say as you help her into her chair. “This is Holly. She’s my friend Nancy’s little sister. That’s Nancy there, that’s Steve, those are Steve’s mom and dad, and this is Eddie’s Uncle Wayne.”

Chloe is seated directly across from Wayne and gives him a shy smile. 

“Hi, darlin’,” Wayne greets. “Are you happy to see your aunt?”

“Yes!” Her face lights up and it absolutely melts your heart. 

Eddie and Melanie come over and join you at the table; Eddie next to you at the head of the table, and Melanie directly across from you. A special sort of warmth you’ve never felt before overtakes your body. It's comforting, like wrapping yourself in the fluffiest blanket on a cold day. The source of this feeling smacks you in the face. You’re sitting between your two favorite people in the world. A part of you never thought this would actually happen, but here it is. It’s overwhelming in the best possible way. 

Steve rises at the opposite end of the table, his wine glass in hand. It looks like someone poured it in Eddie’s absence. All heads turn to Steve, some unfamiliar faces staring back at him, and a lot of familiar ones. It doesn’t make a difference though. Steve is addressing everyone at the table. 

“We’re grateful that each of us has some family with us today. The world is crazy, and you never know when things are going to go upside down.”

You, Eddie, and Nancy share a look, smirks on each of your faces at Steve’s hidden joke that only you three would get. 

“So, here’s to family, friends, and the moments that bring us together.”

“Cheers!”

Everyone clinks their glasses together, reminiscent of the four of you knocking your red solo cups of Pepsi against each other. The difference between then and now is purely the nicer dinnerware and fuller apartment. The sentiment is still the same. A celebration of what you’ve accomplished so far and excitement for the adventures that lie ahead. 

Under the table, Eddie laces his fingers with yours. Your mind wanders back to last Thanksgiving. The first time you and Eddie held hands. The first time you kissed. The first time you met. Back then, you never could have imagined what was beginning to blossom. The surprise of it sneaking up on you is half the fun. 

Now you’re here, exactly where you belong. The people around this table own pieces of your heart, with Eddie holding the largest shard. This is what family is. This is home.

Eddie lifts your hands from under the table and presses a kiss to your knuckles. The soft chink of your charm bracelet the only sound penetrating the bubble that you and Eddie are in. Your newest charm, the little silver turkey you received this morning, stares up at you from where it rests on your wrist. 

Soft lips on the back of your hand have your eyes rising to meet Eddie’s again. He leans in and steals a soft, tender kiss. A small giggle from behind you lets you know that you’re being spied on. But you couldn’t care less who watches you kiss your boyfriend. 

“Happy Thanksgiving!” someone calls, you’re not sure who. 

Eddie just smiles and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Eddie.”

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

[blueeyedwriter]

I Can See You (Levi’s Version)

Summary : Levi Ackerman based on a Taylor Swift song…need I say more?

Warnings : war, blood, getting bit by a titan (rude 😡), other than that lots of fluff and realization of feelings ahhh

Notes : hi everyone!! I got more love than I expected on my first Levi fic…time for another one ;) I had this idea a few days ago in the shower LOL and had to bring it to life. I really hope you enjoy! I apologize in advance because I got a bit carried away…whoops 💜

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You brush past me in the hallway

And you don't think I, I, I can see ya, do ya?

Levi Ackerman was not for interacting with his Scouts off the field as much as he was in battle. He was often reserved, saving his time and energy when he wasn’t in fight or flight for those he personally wanted close to him. Such as Erwin, and Hange.

So, when he by accidentally brushed past his strongest soldier, he took it much more as a surprise than she did.

At first, he jumped slightly. He wasn’t used to touching anything more than the swords he uses to slice the napes of the titans he battles so frequently. Shoulder to shoulder, even with clothes on, it was unexpected.

She, on the other hand, only had the smallest smirk on her face. Levi took that personally.

“Oui, brat,” he hissed, continuing to further his distance, “watch where you’re going.”

She continued walking, her head up, but couldn’t help but say back, “my apologies, Captain, but I was the one watching where I was going.”

Levi couldn’t even react or give this scout any form of reprimand, because she was off before he could open his mouth slightly again.

He shook his head, turning on his heels and continuing towards his office. He tried not to think anything of it, but, why did he feel so warm when they brushed ever so gently?

He hated it.

She, on the other hand, was delighted for it.

I've been watchin' you for ages

And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it

Y/N approached Mikasa after her run in with Levi, her stomach all in knots after her slight conversation with him afterwards.

And Mikasa could tell something happened with her.

“Hey Y/N? You okay?” Mikasa was one of Y/N’s closest friends, and she was her biggest cheerleader. They have been glued to the hip ever since they joined the Scouts, even more closer once they were both assigned to Levi Squad.

“Never better,” she almost hummed. She tried not to get too into her head about Levi. But, it was hard. She’s only been fawning over him for the last 5 years, waiting to see if he’d notice her back. Normally, she didn’t think he did. He treated his Squad as equals.

But, then sometimes she would catch him staring at her longer. Caring for her more considerately. Levi even goes out of his way to ask her how her day is going, more times than none. He’s never done that with Mikasa.

“Oh, is that right?” Mikasa nudged her friend as they continued walking, heading over to Eren and Armin to complete more training cycles before their big mission a few days from now.

Y/N tried her hardest not to feel warm, but it was the only thing that consumed her for the remaining of training for the next battle everyone was preparing for.

And I could see you being my addiction

You can see me as a secret mission

The Battle of Shiganshina District, their most important battle of this war yet. It was time to reclaim this land against the Warriors of Marley. Levi and Commander Erwin were up late the leading nights into this fight. They had to win.

They were going to win.

Levi was rarely nervous going into battle, because he knew lives would always be lost. It was their job to make those lost lives mean something. But, this time, there was one life he could not imagine losing. Normally, it didn’t bother him. It didn’t eat him alive. This time was different though. Because they’re so close, and he couldn’t lose her now.

Y/N was consumed with the idea of Levi, and she needed this battle to go smoothly because she was not opting to lose him either. Their strongest Captain, one of the main reasons they have all made it as far as they did.

It had a smooth start. Everyone was positioned exactly where they needed to be. Armin, Eren, and Mikasa were the top three that had to make it to Eren’s old house to get into the basement where the truth about titans stayed. Y/N was tasked with staying and traveling through the trees, to protect these three so they could make it successfully. Everyone else was on the ground, rushing with their horses to continue taking out as many titans on the field as possible.

Y/N was annoyingly thinking of Levi the entire time flying from tree to tree. Make it there so you can make it back, she kept repeating to herself. It was annoying mostly because Y/N was 99% sure Levi did not care about her in the way she was addicted to him.

She was close behind her three friends, and everything was going fine. Everything was going fine, until a titan appeared through the trees out of nowhere, very quickly, and Y/N’s foot was suddenly locked in its jaw.

Armin, Eren, and Mikasa were too focused on their expedition, so they did not hear Y/N get swiped through branches and leaves, too in shock to scream out for help. She wrestled her leg, desperately gripping her hands on her calf to try and rip it out of the titans mouth. The pain was starting to creep in more as shock wore off, and survival kicked in.

Y/N took her blades out, and slashed the inside of the titans gums quickly. This gave her enough time to yank her leg out of its mouth as it opened in pain and use her ODM gear to latch on to another tree, much higher up than the titan could reach. There was blood all over her now from the injury she gave the titan, and from the severe gash she had going down from her calf to her ankle as well.

“Fuck!” She screamed, as she laid on a bigger branch as tall as she could make it. She had a small bag on her side with any emergency items she might need, including a green and red flare gun.

Alright dumbass, she thought, make sure to shoot off the red flare gun.

And she did. Now all she had to do was wait, as the pain started becoming more unbearable, and her loud screams and cries took over her entire being.

Further away from the forest, Levi was so confused.

A red flare gun shooting up from the trees? That wouldn’t make any sense, unless...

His heart sank.

Hange was riding next to him, and they also looked as confused as he did. “Who could be shooting off a red-”

Levi frantically looked over at them, “Find Erwin and tell him to send first aid as soon as I start going in that direction!”

“What? Levi-”

“For fucks sake Hange, don’t ask any questions for once! Just do it!” and Levi was rushing off on his horse towards the trees, praying to God he had enough time. Maybe it was Armin who set it off, or Mikasa. Someone he wouldn’t throw up seeing in pain because it would just be too much for him too. He was so tired of losing people he loved, cared about.

Loved? He felt like he was going to throw up just by how easily that fear and feeling crept into his mind.

Levi felt like it took forever for his horse to catch up to the forest, but when it finally did, he realized this might take much longer because he was too frantic to remember which exact direction the flare came from.

He decided to just go in every possible direction until he heard screaming. Luckily after a few moments, he heard just that.

“Help me!” Y/N had been screaming for what felt like hours, “PLEASE!”

Levi jolted in the direction he heard her. Of course it had to actually be her. He looked up high as he continued traveling through the nearby trees, and finally saw her leg hanging over a branch while her other leg was held out straight being supported by it. His ODM gear landed right next to her on that branch, and he quickly got up beside her.

She felt like she was going to cry just seeing him here, she wasn’t dreaming right?

“Levi,” she whimpered, “I can’t feel my leg.”

Levi ran over to her, and right away started tearing off any additional clothing he could spare. She had been bit, and it wasn’t a gentle love bite either. She was bleeding more than he liked. But, from the look in her eyes, she was obviously more terrified than he was. So, he needed to act calm. Collected. Not at all scared for her life.

He was SO scared for her life.

He ripped his cloak off his back and tightened it around her calf. That should stop most of the bleeding, but the first aid crew needed to be here as soon as possible so her bleeding didn’t soak through and actually become life threatening.

“Hey,” Levi finally got the courage to say, “I’m right here to help you.”

Y/N chuckled softly, “I’m going to die here, before I find out the truth. Aren’t I?”

Levi shook his head, applying pressure to her wound, “Stop talking like that. It’s a small gash.” Whatever he could say to make them both feel better, right?

Y/N sighed loudly, wincing as she tried to move her body.

Levi prevented her from moving more, “Quit it, brat. You need to stay still.”

“I’m so sorry you had to come save me, I probably ruined this mission” Y/N started tearing up, surprised she didn’t start crying sooner. Her knight in shining ODM gear literally came to her rescue, when she least expected it. She thought no one would be able to see the red flare go up in the sky, but she should have known. Levi would always come to save her.

As Levi was applying more pressure, her vision started to become funny. A lot more little white dots were appearing in her eyesight, and Levi’s worried glance was becoming fuzzy as well.

“Levi? I can’t see you as well anymore...”

Now he was panicking. She was about to pass out, and if she passed out before actual help came, she might not wake back up. He wasn’t going to let her go without a fight just yet.

“Okay,” Levi applied more pressure while cushioning his body to hers, “can I tell you a story?” A fucking story? Whatever. Anything to keep her awake. Anything.

She nodded slowly, and Levi leaned his forehead against hers as he continued putting all his body weight on her calf. For a short man, he sure forced himself to stretch to where she’d be distracted. Maybe feel all the emotions boiling up inside her like the ones about to pour out of himself.

“You’ll have to stay with me, okay? You can’t hear the end of the story without staying awake, brat.” He kept his eyes on hers, and even though they were low, they were still open. “The world’s strongest soldier was assigned a secret mission, and he almost felt like it would be impossible to complete. He had to save the life of the most worthy princess who suddenly went missing, one that every prince was fawning over. The soldier knew he had close to no chance, but maybe if he did save her, she would see him for his own worth as well.”

Y/N chuckled, a little bit of life coming back to her, “Do you see me as your secret mission?”

Levi smirked, “What makes you think you’re the princess?”

Before she could answer, both Levi and Y/N heard people shouting. Levi’s eyes widened. Y/N felt relief wash over her entire body. Maybe she wouldn’t have to die here after all.

“Levi! We’re coming up to assist you! Is someone injured?”

“Yes!” Levi screamed back, “Y/N L/N is!”

The first aid team started to use their gear to get up in the trees to assist Y/N down to safety and to real medical help. She continued to keep her eyes on Levi, as his body never left her side.

“So, how does the story end?”

Levi smiled softly, planting a light kiss on her forehead, “you’ll find out another time. Let’s get you safe first, princess.”

I could see you in your suit and your necktie

Passed me a note saying, "Meet me tonight"

Queen Historia threw the biggest welcome back party once everyone made it back safely.

Well, not exactly everyone...a LOT of lives were lost in the Battle of Shiganshina. Almost every single soldier, and then some. But, the strongest survived and made it back. The truth about the titans made it back. And although they were celebrating the few bodies who made it back in one piece, there was still a heavy amount of loss in the air. But, now there was a way forward. A way to possibly end the war against titans for good. A way to prove these sacrifices were not for nothing.

Levi was dressed in his best black suit and tie, which he felt was ridiculous. But, the Queen insisted everyone dressed as formal as formal could be. This was a celebration at the palace, after all!

Y/N was still recovering, but with crutches, she was able to get around just fine. She felt like it was ridiculous she had to go to such an event, dressed the most beautiful and feminine she has in years, yet look so frail with the crutches under each arm.

She was dressed in a deep red gown, off the shoulder with long lace sleeves. She wanted to wear red for the amount of blood that was lost, and to remember her fallen soldiers who did not make it back like she did. She was even lucky herself she made it back. She won’t be fighting in any future battles for a while, that’s for sure.

Y/N arrived with Mikasa and Eren, who were matching most disgustingly. She enjoyed seeing them explore their feelings, though. Even if it was never verbally mentioned, they still both knew deep down who they were saving each other for.

Eren and Mikasa made their rounds, everyone congratulating them on making it to the basement. Armin was fashionably late, arriving with Connie, Jean, and Sasha. Y/N looked around, looking for the only person she cared about seeing tonight.

And as if he was reading her mind, he slipped right up behind her, placing a small piece of paper into her hand.

“Captain?” Y/N’s brows furrowed, and he just shrugged and continued making his own rounds with his fellow soldiers and peers.

Y/N tried her best to open the note without losing a crutch, and on the small piece of paper was Levi’s gorgeous handwriting, ‘Meet me tonight, my office.’

Then we kiss, and you know I won't ever tell

After a few hours and champagne glasses later, Y/N excused herself once she realized her Captain had done so ages ago. She couldn’t exactly rush to his office as she was unable to walk or run properly, but she definitely had a pep in her step upon arriving at his office. She took a deep breath before knocking, and it took maybe a second for him to answer the door.

She wasn’t too sure where she stood with her Captain. They obviously kept it professional, but ever since they brushed past each other, something sparked. Especially in Levi. It was almost as if he cared about keeping it hush, but not about keeping it strict with his subordinate anymore.

“Did you have fun?” Levi made room for Y/N to step in, closing the door as she made her way towards his desk.

“As fun as someone could have, mourning everyone that died.”

Levi sadly nodded, “I understand that. It was not a light and easy night for any of us.”

Y/N took a seat at one of his chairs, “But, at least we weren’t mourning me. Right?”

Levi smiled and shook his head, “I’d be unable to do anything if I was mourning you, brat.”

A small silence washed over them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, warming, surprisingly it was the safest they have both felt in a long time.

Y/N spoke up again after more moments passed, “so, I was wondering. Can I hear the end of that story now?”

Levi chuckled softly, “I was hoping you’d ask me that.” He took a seat next to her, grabbing both her hands in his. She didn’t even hide her smile, because this was everything she wanted. Even if it was wrong, it never felt so right.

Levi continued the story, the words flowing out of his mouth, “The soldier was looking for the princess for days. She was definitely lost, and the kingdom was missing her. The soldier, probably missing her the most. As he continued his journey, he heard soft singing in the forest miles away from her castle. It wasn’t the most beautiful voice, but it didn’t matter, because it was hers. The soldier hurried over to her once he located her sound, and when he told her that he had come to rescue her because she had been lost, she laughed at him. She told the soldier, for she was never lost, but that no one went to the lengths he did to allow her to be found. That touched her.”

Y/N was in awe, how can someone as hard and reserved as Levi Ackerman have the most beautiful and gentle soul?

But, she also frowned, “So, I’m definitely not the princess in this story.”

Levi took a deep breath, “But, you are. You were not lost, you were waiting to be found. Especially in that tree. And I am so fucking lucky I found you.”

Another wave of silence, but Y/N’s mouth opened slightly at Levi’s confession. She went to try and stand up, but Levi prevented her, getting up from his seat and kneeling in front of her so she wouldn’t have to move.

“Do you mean that?” Y/N whispered.

Levi nodded, his eyes going from her eyes to her lips. He slowly inched forward, unsure if this was the right timing and assumption, but Y/N closed the distance and crashed their lips together validating his urge.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she breathed in between kisses, allowing Levi to cup her face and hair as it came so powerful and urgent to him how much he truly needed her.

“Save it for when we win the war, and I don’t have to be your Captain anymore, brat.” Levi said deeply, connecting his lips onto hers again as if it was the only thing he could see himself doing for the rest of his life. Because, it simply was.

—————

A/N : I feel so much love. Thank you to everyone who has reblogged and liked my first post! Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to see from me <3 I wrote and rewrote this fic like 3 times lol but I hope it makes you as giddy as it did me reading it over :)

[mel-the-fangirl]

The Witch & The Freak

Eddie Munson x Reader

Words: 5,132 (oh, boy...)

My first Eddie fic! I really could not help but stan this guy because, let's admit it, he's pretty adorable. I know we're well into November but I'm still feeling the Halloween vibes so this might get just a smidge creepy. It's long as hell, there's a little slice-of-life action, I just went with it but I hope you all enjoy!

Please like, reblog, or leave me a comment if you liked it!

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October 31, 1986

Somewhere in Salt Lake City, USA

Eddie Munson tightened his grip on the steering wheel, paying no mind as his knuckles turned white. His mind was obviously somewhere else, trying his hardest not to dwell on the fact that he was so totally lost. He had been driving on the same stretch of road for about half an hour now but not a single car had passed by him.

“Fuckin’ Henderson.” Eddie hissed, cursing his friend for getting him in this situation

Since when was he the babysitter anyway? Wasn’t that Harrington’s job? What was he doing wasting his Halloween playing chauffeur to Dustin Henderson when he could have been playing a killer Halloween setlist at the Hideout. He told Steve just as much but when he heard that Dustin didn’t have a ride back to Hawkins since his car was in the shop, Eddie was pretty much out the door without a second thought.

He was all huffy and puffy about it, sure. But if he was being honest, he just really needed a distraction from this weird feeling he was having that something was about to happen. He had no idea if it was something bad like a zombie ambushing him and eating his brains, or something good like finally getting off this damn road and back to civilisation.

Wherever this place was, it was giving him major heebie-jeebies. Probably because it was too goddamn quiet. Like the air was sucked out of the whole area. 

“Radio!” he exclaimed, a light bulb finally going off in his head. He fumbled with the dials until the static finally turned into Steve Perry’s “Foolish Heart”

Eddie looked around with an eyebrow quirked up like he was expecting the gang to somehow pop up in the backseat. Once the coast was clear, he sang softly at first, bobbing his head along.

“I need a love that's strong, I'm so tired of being alone..”

As the song reached its peak, Eddie Munson, Eddie the Freak, Eddie the big bad guitarist of Corroded Coffin, belted out with all the passion he had,

“Foolish heart, hear me calling. Stop before you start falling!” he swayed side to side in time with the melody

What a sight to behold. A tried and true metalhead singing his little heart out to a mushy soft rock ballad. As far as everyone he knew was concerned, if it wasn’t metal, Eddie wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole. But honestly? He loved all types of music, he was just sure if people knew “Candle in the Wind” made him tear up, all the mean and scary street cred he had would fly out the window.

The music began to fade out and so did the tension in Eddie’s shoulders. He rolled them out, exhaling in relief.

“Nothing to be afraid of, Munson.” he chuckled to himself, “You’ve been through worse than a quiet roadtrip, haven’t ya?”

Instinctively, his free hand wandered to his stomach, tracing the length of marred skin. A constant reminder that no girl would want to see him shirtless ever again.

Just like that, his mind replayed the events of the last few months. Dustin shattering his leg carrying his dead weight back to the portal in the Upside Down, nearly losing Max forever, his month-long stay at the hospital, his very public trial and acquittal not long after, finally graduating.

He never was able to give Principal Higgins that one finger salute, not to his face at least but he did flip him one behind his back, the whole crew hooting and cheering for him from the stands.

Getting wrapped up in all those memories, Eddie didn’t even notice that “Total Eclipse of the Heart” started playing. It was another one of his guilty pleasure power ballads, only to be listened to using headphones, with his door and window firmly closed.

Turn around,

Every now and then I get a little bit lonely

And you're never coming 'round

Turn around…

Turn around…

Turn around…

What?

Eddie eyed his stereo warily as the lyric repeated over and over, he kept his hand on one of the dials but no matter how much he turned it, the station never changed, Bonnie Tyler’s voice just kept getting lower and lower until it was almost demonic.

TURN AROUND!

The volume maxed out of nowhere. Static and feedback mixing together at varying pitches, Hell's choir harmonising. Every hair on Eddie’s body stood on end and his hands started to shake. The calm he had built within himself shattering into pieces. 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” he tried his hardest through his trembling hands to turn off the damn thing but to no avail

He pushed his foot into the gas, speeding along the deserted road, hoping it was just a really fucked up signal patch. 

The distance did manage to get rid of the demon choir on his stereo but the damn thing still wouldn't turn off. The static, the fucking static was making him lose his mind. The screeching sound filled the entirety of the van and was close to crawling into his head. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Be cool, Munson. Be fucking cool.” he breathed in and out steadily

Just as he was starting to have some semblance of calm, his engine started sputtering until gradually and agonisingly slowly, the van halted to a complete stop. Eddie could have sworn someone had it out for him. He got out of the van on shaky legs, his Reeboks crunching on the gravel as he lifted the hood of the van up.

A flashlight would've been handy. The streetlights did nothing to help him see any of the wiring. He couldn’t help but slam the hood down in frustration, the harsh sound echoing off into the night. Of course, something like this was happening to him. Noticing what was across the empty street only confirmed his beliefs that he was probably the unluckiest bastard to walk the earth. 

A fucking cemetery of all the fucking places to be. At night. On Halloween. Smack dab in the middle of nowhere, USA.

“Just my fucking luck.” he exhaled, placing one hand flat on the slightly heated hood and the other on his chest, Eddie screwed his eyes shut and tipped his head forward, curly locks falling all around him

How did it get like this?

There he was, quietly making his way to his teenage friend who needed a ride home, a chivalrous act. Next thing he knows, he's a sitting duck right in the middle of the road. Easy prey for whoever wanted a piece of him. Of course, they'd have to go around the parts that haven't already been picked at.

He snorted at that. 

Nothing like a bit of self-deprecating humour to get him up and running again. He raised his head and finally got his thoughts in order.

Obviously, the van was busted and he was stuck. That much was clear. According to his watch, it was thirty past one in the morning. He still had hours to go until dawn so he should probably get some rest. The rollercoaster of emotions he'd just been through was enough to drain whatever energy he had left.

"And so, it was decided," Eddie narrated in his Dungeon Master voice, climbing back in the van. 

"Eddie the Banished would spend the night in his faithful but useless van, clutching in his grasp, the 2x4 he could never be bothered to throw away. Guess it came in handy in the end."

What was also handy were the blankets and pillows he stored in the back. He'd have to thank El for coming up with the idea after he took the gang out to a drive-in and literally everyone complained about how uncomfortable it was.

Oddly enough though? Eddie was comfortable. Having the van break down right across the street from a cemetery and that freaky thing with the stereo aside, being nestled in those blankets in the darkness of his van was actually kind of cozy. Hugging the 2x4 like a teddy bear, he drifted off to sleep, hoping he wouldn't have to use it.

…

A dull thud roused Eddie from his sleep. He shifted around in his blankets, nearly taking his eye out with the edge of the 2x4 he forgot he was cradling in his arms.

He groaned, cracking his knuckles above his head. He almost forgot where he was. 

The realisation was like a cold bucket of water down his shirt. He let his guard down for God knows how long. What could be lurking out there? What if he was surrounded by enemies already? He shot up, crawling to the passenger’s side window. Eddie muttered his own version of a prayer under his breath and very cautiously took a look across the road.

Everything was pitch black beyond the rusty cemetery gates, save for a few lit candles. He could make out the flickering flames in the distance but other than that, not a fucking thing. Even the goddamn lamps perched on the gate didn’t seem to be working.

Eddie craned his neck to get a view farther along the moss covered stone wall that bordered the property. Nothing but rustling bushes and darkness.

Wait.

Rustling… Bushes?

Thankfully, his eyes were starting to adjust. He kept his gaze glued to one spot, hoping to catch whatever critter was in those bushes. Suddenly, a flashlight poked through the leaves. It circled the ground until it abruptly shone in the direction of the van. Eddie dove out of sight, immediately regretting the move. He was sure his cover was blown. 

Army crawling back under his blankets, Eddie tried his best to peep out of the van's rear windows this time. The light in the bushes was gone and there wasn't anyone in sight. 

He sighed in relief. Safe for now but his mind was running wild with theories of who could be in the bushes

A squatter, maybe? 

Someone trying to set up camp for the night? 

This wasn't exactly a camper's hot spot but who knows, right? Nine times out of ten, Eddie's morbid curiosity led him to places he couldn't even imagine.

Out of the quiet, he heard it. A little muffled from his spot inside the van but it was there all the same. 

"GOD DAMN IT!" the voice from outside yelled

Eddie froze, brown eyes bigger than even thought possible.

Not much had changed outside. The light was still gone, the bush was still moving. No other cars had passed by. Though that little expletive was confirmation that there was a person in the bushes.

What he was going to do with that information was still up for debate.

He could just leave it alone… Really though, what good was it going to get him if he left the safety of his van? 

But then again, what if they needed help? No one in their right mind would be poking around cemetery bushes if they weren’t in some form of distress. If there was something that Eddie learned from what he went through, it was never to run away.

He was still fucking scared though, don’t get him wrong. But he wasn’t going anywhere.

With a deep exhale, he stepped out of the van, trusty 2x4 in hand.

His pulse thumped uncomfortably in his ears, like at any time his eardrums would burst. Every step he took to close the distance between him and the cemetery gate, he felt like he was being watched by unseen eyes.

“Christ.” he muttered, trying not to look straight at the candle-speckled darkness that lay ahead

His footsteps went unheard as his mystery lurker continued to… Well, lurk in the bushes, moving to and fro along a particular stretch of grass.

“Uh, hello? Do you need any help?” his voice wavered ever so slightly at the end of his sentence

The rustling stopped. For Eddie, it seemed like everything stopped in those few seconds where he thought he was going to die for real this time.

That was until, you finally poked your head out.

Then everything stopped for Eddie a second time.

You had to be a ghost or something right? Because there was no way. NO WAY. Anyone alive could look as ethereal and unreal as you. Sure, there were leaves stuck in your hair and dirt streaked on your cheek but to Eddie that just made you look even more heart-stopping.

“Uh,” you cleared your throat, rising to your feet and dusting yourself off as best you could

Taking stock of your sudden companion, you mentally checked off a list. 

Long shaggy hair, check. The devil on his shirt, check. And finally, big brown eyes, check. Though your powers of divination were improving, they still didn't work well enough to find the damn crystal you dropped. 

“Hi, um. I’m sure this looks a little strange,” you gestured to the bushes you’ve been searching through for the past fifteen minutes or so.

“But I, well I dropped something around here and I’m having a real tough time finding it as you can see.” you chuckled breathily, patting at your jeans, knees covered in grass stains

“Oh, uh,” Eddie stepped towards you, feeling a weird sort of gravitational pull. “When’d you lose it? The caretakers might’ve done away with it, y’know.”

“That’s not it.” you waved your hand dismissively, returning your gaze to the grass beneath your sneakered feet. “I lost it just now when I fell off that damn gate.”

Something was totally off, Eddie could feel it. For starters, he kept involuntarily walking towards you, completely disregarding the bush right in front of him. He couldn’t even see his Reeboks underneath the leaves anymore. Second, his eyes were practically glued to the ground. Every time he'd try to raise his head, it was like there was a hand pushing it back down again, forcing him to search for something but he had no idea what.

“Just uh,” he walked along the line of bushes just as you did, squinting at the ground. “Just now, huh? What’re you even doing here at this time? It’s uh, it isn’t safe.”

He crouched down and began poking at the bushes with his 2x4. The intent look on his face made you giggle, he was an easy one to influence.

“While I appreciate the concern, I can take care of myself just fine, thank you. Now, be a doll and look over there..”

Like a little marionette, Eddie made his way over to the bush you were pointing at. He couldn’t even stop to question why the hell he was just blindly following your orders, his brain was covered in a thick fog. His one-track mind concerned only with finding what you had lost.

“It would be really helpful if I knew what I was looking for.” he whispered to himself. 

Before he could even blink, you were only two steps away from him. How the hell did you do that?

"You'll know it when you see it." you said, watching him closely

The close proximity was making Eddie's head spin, if he was being honest. The scent of warm cinnamon sugar mixed with the dewy grass you fell in wafted off you and invaded his senses. Not even the pricier stuff in his stash could make him feel this way.

This had to stop. Somehow his hijacked brain connected the dots, whatever effect you had on him would only stop if he found what you were looking for. He took the flashlight from your hand and got on his knees. 

"That's a bit much, isn't it?" you remarked, tilting your head to see how he was doing

"You're.. You're doing something to me." Eddie struggled to get the words out. His lips were barely moving, like they’d been glued together and it was just starting to dry

"Huh. Intuitive." you thought. Perhaps shutting him up was a bit much but you were exhausted and really wanted to get home.

As he swung the flashlight to search somewhere else, a glint partially obscured by a fallen leaf caught Eddie's eye. He bent down and flicked the leaf out of the way, revealing a shiny, palm sized pink stone of some sort. As he picked it up, it felt warm to the touch.

“Rose quartz.” you filled him in, closing your hand over his

Of course Eddie had no fucking idea what that was but you had his full attention, you were only about a hair’s breadth away from each other now. 

“Eddie Munson.” you smiled slowly, noticing how your heart was beating a little too fast

At the mention of his name, he could feel the haze that had settled in his mind starting to lift. He nodded, still not able to produce any words with your hand still in his. You weren’t sure if he could feel it, but the rose quartz began to vibrate under your entwined hands.  

What that meant, you weren’t entirely sure.

In one fluid movement, you managed to take your crystal out of his hand and step away.

You cleared your throat and dropped your crystal into your bag with the others, "The love crystal." 

“What?” Eddie’s lips were finally functioning again but he felt out of breath

“The one you picked up. It’s also called the love crystal.” you clarified, kicking at some pebbles with the tip of your shoe

“Crystal…” he shook his head, looking at you apprehensively. “What the hell did you just do to me back there? Are you some kind of witch or something?"

"If I’m being totally honest, I find that term offensive and I don’t like being called that. It’s so goddamn archaic…" 

"Wait, hold on-"

"...I mean, what is this? The 17th century? You gonna report me to the Witchmaster General too?" 

"SHUT UP!" Eddie yelled, his voice echoing all throughout the empty street

His sudden outburst caused you to let go of your bag of crystals, the lot of them clattering to the ground. You tsk-ed in annoyance before dropping to your knees to round them all up again. 

"Was just trying to make conversation. Didn't have to fucking yell at me." you muttered, occasionally shooting nasty looks at him

He joined you on the ground, hurriedly picking up your crystals. "Shit, um. Look, I'm sorry. I just.. Well, how the hell do I even put this. You're-You're a witch? Like an actual real life witch? Is that how you knew my name?"

"No, you idiot. I watched your trial a few months back. I bet everyone in America knows your fucking name.”

“Oh.”

“But I am a witch.”

“Oh.”

The thing about him is his wit was always quicker than his common sense. The quip was already tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Hey, I thought you didn’t like being called a witch?”

“I don’t.” you almost growled at him

Oh, man, if looks could kill… There would definitely be a grave at that cemetery with Eddie’s name right on it but his brain-to-mouth filter wasn’t going to start working just because of that.

“Alright, alright.” he put his hands up in mock defence, “You got a name or should I just call you Sabrina?” 

The silence stretched long between you, both of you sizing the other up. Then, much to Eddie’s relief, you burst out in laughter. He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant for him but the sound made him smile anyway.

“Oh, you’re funny,” you held out a small bag towards him, “Drop my stuff in here please.”

“Not gonna lie, I was a hundred percent expecting you to sock me in the jaw.” he chuckled, doing as he was told.  The sound of the crystals knocking together was kind of soothing for him.

“I really wanted to.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”

“I’m glad too.”

You two stood there for a beat, saying nothing, just awkward half-smiles and heads filled with scrambled thoughts. Most of them consisted of wondering how someone could be this pretty.

“That must be some name if you’re gonna keep me waiting this long.” he stuffed his hands in his pockets, a playful twinkle in his brown eyes

Heat rose to your cheeks in an instant. “It’s Y/N. You can call me Y/N.”

Call it sleep deprivation or being under the light of the moon too much but the sound of your name automatically plastered a smile onto his face. God, if the kids could see him now acting all cheesy. He’d never hear the end of it.

“Well, I guess I don’t need to tell you my name.”

“Nope.” you shook your head

Warmth flooded your body as you kept your gaze on his smiling brown eyes. Oh, he was cute.

“Sooo,” he began, swaying while placing his hands behind his back

You in turn, crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow, the move made him want you to step on him. He didn’t even care that you only knew his name because of all the murders it was associated with.

“Sooo?”

He scoffed, throwing his arms up, “Come on! You’re really not going to tell me what you were doing? In the bushes? At this time of night?”

The rise in his pitch was definitely starting to sound like a whine, a small smirk played on your lips.

"I thought you got the gist already." you teased, gently shaking your bag of crystals

Would you believe that he actually pouted? You were struggling to keep your eyes off his plump pink lips.

“Well, would you be kind enough to enlighten me?” he whined some more, completely melting away your defences

“Since you asked so nicely,” you smiled, reaching into your little bag

The first crystal you held up to the moonlight was the exact one you'd hoped for, Tiger's Eye. It glowed in different shades of brown. Almost the exact same shade as Eddie's eyes. You made eye contact with him and winked which made him blush in return. 

"It’s nothing complicated," you began, "People use crystals for a lot of different things so just like a human would, they get worn out."

"So, the moonlight.. Recharges them or something?" Eddie ventured a guess

"Exactly! Very good, Eddie. We might make a warlock of you yet."

Ah, praise. A surefire way to get on his good side. Not that you weren't already.

"And the cemetery?" he asked, already wondering if ghosts had something to do with it. Could you see ghosts too? Would you be offended if he asked?

“I was coming from a party. I cut through the cemetery and figured I’d do a cleansing since the moon was full.” you shrugged nonchalantly

The simplicity of it all made Eddie laugh out loud, soon enough you found yourself laughing along too.

“Maybe I should have said something cooler, like oh the spirits of the dead fuel the crystals with more energy.”

He wiped at his eyes, feeling his cheeks hurt from smiling too much. “No, no. I, uh, I appreciate your honesty.”

“And you?” you nodded to his van across the street, “Camping?”

“Ah, something like that, madame,” he replied in a mock posh accent, “I’m afraid my faithful steed has let me down tonight.”

You looked at the van pensively while Eddie admired the slopes and angles of your face like a dorky schoolkid looking at his first crush.

“Mind if I take a look?”

“Huh?” he blushed hard, hoping you didn’t notice him drooling all over you. “Oh, uh, yeah. You know about cars? Or is there like, a crystal for car trouble?”

It was a completely innocent question, his tone filled with curiosity. Absolutely nothing like the other mocking questions and judgmental looks you usually got when people found out your beliefs. You couldn’t help but walk a little closer to Eddie’s side as you made your way over to the van.

“Not car trouble, but there is one to ward off car accidents and stuff like that.” you answered, lifting up the hood and producing a mini flashlight from your back pocket

Eddie tried, like he really tried not to be a creep but you were just so goddamn pretty. The shadows that continually moved across your face as you moved your flashlight across the engine reminded him of this nightlight he had that spun around, sending stars all over his dark room. But tonight instead of stars, he had you and he preferred that more.

“Eddie, could you try starting it up, please?” your brows knitted together as you shut the hood

He could’ve lassoed the damn moon if you asked.

To his surprise, the van roared to life with the radio blasting the chorus of “I Wanna Know What Love Is” deep into the night. Eddie scrambled to get it under control while you doubled over in laughter.

“I didn’t peg you as the power ballad type, Eddie.” you walked over to the driver’s side and perched your arms on the lowered window

“Well, I didn’t peg you as the mechanic type, Y/N.” he countered, cheeks burning but he still found it in himself to bring his face closer to yours

He could pinpoint the exact second your pupils dilated and Eddie figured it was as good a time as ever to finally do what he'd been thinking about all night since seeing you. 

"Thank god for that fucking rose quartz." Eddie mumbled before softly pressing his lips to yours

It was almost as if your lips were covered in a million tiny live wires, sending your entire body alight with sensation. The air was positively snap-crackle-and popping all around you, all that was missing were the actual sparks.

Eddie pulled away for a second to jump out of the van and take you in his arms, he smelled of leather, soap, and a hint of smoke. It was almost second nature to you, wrapping your arms around his waist and letting him kiss you once again.

Despite your disdain for the term, you were a witch. That much was true. You had abilities, you studied, and you practised. But this right here, kissing Eddie. That was a whole other sort of magic all together.

Once you found it in yourselves to pull away, breathing hard and smiling like fools, you hopped in the van.

“What did you do to get her running again?” Eddie asked, making sure you fastened your seatbelt

“Nothing. There wasn’t even anything wrong.”

He decided to leave it at that. Eddie just pecked you on the cheek before pulling back into the road with you guiding him on the right track to the Bingham House which surprisingly, you didn't live far from.

As the sky changed from midnight blue to a purple-dusted orange, you and Eddie watched and talked as the sun began to peek just over the horizon. He told you about his life in Hawkins and about what really happened, the whole demobats took a pound of flesh from him truth, not the censored bullcrap the authorities told him to stick with. He didn't doubt it when you said you believed him. 

You told him all about your abilities, about all the people who just didn't understand, how you really did make him do your bidding back there and how you foresaw that he'd be coming for you. It all flowed out, the easiest conversation either of you had in your lives.

"Quite a pair we are, huh?" he nudged you affectionately, an easy smile on his face

You nodded, reaching over to lace your fingers through his, "The witch and the freak."

"The witch and the freak." he agreed, bring your hand to his lips

… 

"So, just take the next left then straight on till morning, Eddie." you kissed him one last time before hopping out of the van

"Aw, c'mon, Y/N." he whined and pouted

Him whining and pouting was quickly becoming one of your weaknesses. 

"It's just one more block, why won't you come with me? Had enough of me already?" 

"Because, Eddie! My mom's going to kill me if she catches me sneaking in. Don't worry, we'll be seeing each other again soon."

Eddie knew the finality in your voice wasn't for nothing, you've probably already seen how this was going to go but still, he loved pushing your buttons.

He scooted to the passenger's seat, "And how are you so sure about that, hm?" he puckered his lips at you

With a chuckle, you planted a big 'ol smooch on his waiting lips. Already visualising what the next time you'd see each other would be like.

"Because I'm sure! Now go! The Binghams usually serve a feast for breakfast. I hope you like kids!" you waved him off, already knowing that you didn't need to consult your cards to see if you were right or not.

You blew him a kiss which he playfully stuffed in the pocket of his jean jacket before slipping quietly into your house.

"Oh, what a night," Eddie shamelessly sang along to Frankie Valli, shimmying his hips as much as he could while seated

"What a lady, what a nigh-Oh shit!" he slammed his foot on the brakes, tires squealing against the pavement

He forgot to ask for your phone number. 

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Eddie hissed, bonking his head on the wheel

Just as he was about to turn back around, he noticed something on the passenger's seat that definitely wasn't there five seconds ago. 

A crystal that Eddie recognised was the colour of your eyes and a note.

"When did she have the time to write this?" he wondered

It seemed like you already knew he was going to think that. 

"I'm a witch, remember?" the note began, making Eddie shake his head in awe

You're under strict rules to keep this crystal with you at all times, Eddie. It will protect you and hopefully make you think of me. We will be seeing each other again very soon. 

Love, Y/N.

You also had the foresight to scrawl your number on the back along with, 

Can't believe you forgot to ask!! >:(

Which made Eddie Munson giggle. Thank God no one was around to witness it or else he'd never live it down. 

Having everything he needed, Eddie started up the radio again and went on his way to the Bingham's. 

Those fingers in my hair

That sly come-hither stare

That strips my conscience bare

It's witchcraft. 

"You got that right, Frank," Eddie placed a kiss on the crystal you left him, "You got that right."

[random-mailbox]

Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 23 - Valentine’s Day ❤️

We have come to our next Holiday themed post - Valentines Day! These stories all incorporate Valentine's Day traditions (some more westernized than others) and are fairly short, at least compared to the usual mix in these posts. Enjoy the cuteness!

As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries).

Box of Chocolates - Chapter 1: Day 2: Box of Chocolates - @kasienda

Mamoru comes home late from another long shift to a worried Usagi, except he has a very good excuse. This premise or tradition of sorts that @kasienda does with her own husband is something I do with mine too. 

Valentine's Day - @ninjettetwitch

Serena over-reacts when Darien tries to find out why she is feeling down, kicking off a chain of events that leads to Darien finally admitting his feelings. 

 Wishing You Were Mine - @moon-daisuki

Someone leaves behind an unsigned love letter on the counter of the Crown Arcade. So Motoki, having guessed who the author might be, decides to blow it out of proportion and make it into a mystery party with the help of a local radio station.

Idiots - @riverlethe

I love the way @riverlethe depicts these fools' failure to convey their emotions. We even get psychometry in this one! In this two-shot (I really hope we get more of these, because "Reveal" has to happen and will be glorious whenever it does), Usagi makes homemade chocolates for her class, Motoki and special ones just for Mamoru, who returns the favour on White Day. 

love makes ya crazy - @hellomomo

When Motoki find a love letter that he presumes is meant for Reika, Usagi volunteers herself and Mamoru to help him figure out who this mystery person might be. 

Before The Clock Strikes Midnight - missscatterbrain325

To avoid getting any more chocolate on Valentine’s Day, Darien declares that he is in love with one of the girls sitting at the booth in the back - Serena and her friends. Except that habits are hard to break and our duo has hell of a time figuring out how to communicate their feelings.

AND I am going to add a story that was technically part of the Groundhog Day post but it is literally called Valentines Day, so I figure - why not double dip

Valentines Day - Raine Delmont

Mamoru has to re-live the same day over again until he can figure out what his feeling actually and how to change Usagi's feeling towards him, all in 1 day.

---

Next week's post will be all about Do A Grouch A Favor Day (link to the page explaining more about it and giving some fun facts) - thanks @caelenath for introducing me to it! It will be a mix of stories that cheer ME up and stories where the characters do that to each other (even if we are a couple of days late once the post goes up - it is celebrated on February 16th)

Here are the links to the previous Tumblr posts in these series to explore more amazing works based on different themes - make sure to check them out if you haven't had a chance! (Click on title name to go to the post) - I will keep updating the list every week as new posts come up:

Week 1 - Groundhog Day

Week 2 - Established Relationships

Week 3 - Sex Positivity

Week 4 - Unfinished Stories

Week 5 - Darker Stories

Week 6 - Potions 🧪

Week 7 - Reveals

Week 8 - 👻Halloween🎃

Week 9 - Wrong Perceptions

Week 10 - Non-Senshi AU

Week 11 - In-Progress Fics

Week 12 - Mutual Pining

Week 13 - Enemies to Lovers

Week 14 - Slow Burn

Week 15 - Christmas Part 1 - Ugly Christmas Sweaters and Santa!

Week 16 - Christmas Part 2

Week 17 - New Years

Week 18 - High School AU

Week 19 - Slice of Life

Week 20 - Coffee shop AU

Week 21 - Huddle for Warmth

Week 22 - Friends to Lovers

[stitch1830]

Hi Stitch! Hope you've been doing awesome <3

For the ask game, 15, 23, and 50! :D

Mooney! Hi Mooney I hope you're doing well <3 More than happy to answer some questions for ya :D

15. Are there any relationship dynamics/tropes you would never write?

I'm down to write lil drabbles or one shots of anything, I think, just to get out of the ole comfort zone lol. Perhaps some that I may struggle a lot with and would put off would include insta-love. Not a huge fan of that, particularly with Kantoph lol. It's about the back and forth, the will-they or won't-they fall in love <3.

I also think I would struggle hard core with writing them as like, one person is a human and the other is a mythical creature (or creature part-time lol). It's just something I'm not particularly interested in, so I would need probably a lot of time to warm up to it and come up with an idea lol!

23. Do you think you idealize relationships in fiction, or are your depictions grounded in reality? How often do your characters make mistakes?

I would say it's a mixed bag. Of course, I want the relationships I write to be practical and feel relatable, but these relationships for me are also supposed to be idealistic. Especially for my fluffy fics, the relationships are just.... easy. They're fun. Uncomplicated. That's not very grounded in reality, but it's a slice of the fluff life and that's what I enjoy writing a lot.

But, I also love trying to capture the ups and downs of a relationship being established. I don't carry on with a lot of details in my fics (since I mostly write one shots now), but I think there are elements of reality, where the characters think one thing, but do another. In the beginning of the story, there are usually a lot of mistakes that the characters make in my fics. But as time goes on, they start to figure things out, and they live happily ever after <3.

50. Free space! Brag on yourself! Advertise your writing! What are you most proud of recently?

Hmmm. I haven't written much outside of the Year of the OTP prompts...

One work that I was pretty happy with the outcome on was Tell Me Lies. It's a Zutara story, but I have hopes to continue the story. Katara has to repay the favor to Toph, after all! ;)

I was pretty proud of The Mysteries of Chief Beifong. It's from the perspective of an OC, but he observes Toph as her life changes dramatically, and it has Kantoph crumbs sprinkled throughout :)

......

Okay! That's all I've got for this ask. Thank you so much for sending this in, Mooney! Always love seeing your name in my inbox <3 Hope you have a day as fabulous as you are :D

Send me asks about fanfic couples!

[bonvoyagenoona]

Rough Night | KSJ, MYG, JJK

Pairings: Vampire!Jin x Reader, Werewolf!Yoongi x Reader, Incubus!Jungkook x Reader

Rating: 18+ / Mature / Explicit

Word Count: 7000 exactly whoa

Synopsis: Three best friends catch up at a diner and share stories about their precarious evenings. 

Genre: Fantasy-ish? Kind of a tilted What We Do in the Shadows-type take (or as close to it as I could get) on vampires, werewolves, and incubi, with some sex and some feels

Themes: A slightly comedic, slightly angsty, slightly fantastical, slice-of-life take on strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, and enemies to lovers, with fluff, smut, love, and friendship, the most important themes of all lol

Content Warnings: Biting, fingering, breast play, oral sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, marking (vampire!), a bit of a blood kink (vampire!), slightly graphic descriptions of bodily transformations (werewolf and incubus!), some people get a little nervous or crazy when they see them in their true forms or when they’re working their magic, but hopefully it doesn’t feel too, too intense 

Author’s Note: Written for @minyfic​​ for the @ficscafe​​ fic exchange event! Hi, Yus! This is my first time writing this kind of fic and doing this kind of fic exchange event, so I tried to throw in a little bit of everything that you like 😬 Hope you enjoy!

Pale fingers, slender save for the pleasant, bulging knuckles, reach down into the sugar bowl with curiosity. All that’s left are pink fake sweetener packets. A waitress, in a nearly-matching pink uniform, arrives just as tomato red lips turn down into a frown.

“Think ‘ya got a little left there.” The waitress’s southern American drawl floats like a cloud. 

Those ketchup red lips shift gears from neutral to twinkle. “Mm. Thanks.” Their owner takes his pale fingers and reaches for the napkin bundling his silverware, pointlessly unfurling the parcel and using the napkin to needlessly dab at his mouth. 

The action saves more time than it wastes. He’s learned that it staves off the weird stares that people give when he doesn’t respond to the common comment of something appearing off about him. 

He’s long grown tired of weird stares.

As a result of his willingness to play along, the waitress doesn’t even notice that his lips fail to change in any way. Nor has she noticed that he’s barely touched his tomato soup, or his coffee.

“Sugar?” she asks, having noticed his searching fingers on her walk to the table.

He nods, glad that she’s at least perceptive to a certain extent. “Yes, please.”

She smiles warmly. That’s something he has wondered about often. How a smile can feel warm.

“Can I interest you in some garlic toast, too?”

She presents the simple slices buttered with the loathsome vegetable. The chipped, eggshell-colored plate does nothing to help entice or distract from the stench.

“Another customer ordered it with their soup but decided they didn’t want it after all,” she explains.

Those tomato red lips curl in disgust. “No, thank you.”

The waitress grins. “So polite.” She giggles. She flounces. She’s… flirting? “Given how often you come in, figured we’d’ve moved past the niceties.”

Her hips sway as she walks back toward the other end of the diner, where only two other patrons are sitting, separately.

But their rhythm is missed. Coal black eyes are already settling at the entrance minutes before a new patron enters, the bell needlessly announcing his arrival. Clothes torn. Hair shaggy and unkempt. Eyes wild. Still dazed, and still gold. They scan the room quickly, and then they hurriedly bring this battered body forward and into the seat across those tomato red lips.

“You alright?” the lips ask.

Golden irises rusting, the new guest responds, “Yeah.” He smirks. Unfair that his fangs can retreat, even if they’re doing so slowly. “But… y’know how it goes.” He looks around. “Where is he?”

“Dunno. Been waiting for a while.” A pointed look. “For both of you.” 

Annoyed eyes meet apologetic ones.

A growl pushes out, “You know how I lose track of time when it happens. We’re not all constantly counting the minutes of our immortality. Unlike you.”

“Clearly a curse when you have tardy friends like mine.”

The waitress returns with a handful of white sugar packets. She barely notices the guest with a threadbare sleeve, especially when continually drawn to the immaculate if not weary statue holding those tomato red lips in a pleasant bend.

“Anything else, hun?” she coos at him.

“That’s all, thank you.”

The guest furrows his brow as he watches the waitress giggle and turn on her heel, his scowl tracing the back of her head. He swivels back around. His friend’s pale fingers are nonchalantly stirring the soup he’ll never eat.

“Could you tone the charm down a bit?” he barks. “I was going to order a steak!”

“I know. Rare. It’s being prepared.”

Hairier than usual arms slide over each other. Why is unclear. If there’s anywhere he doesn’t have to worry about hiding, it’d be under this gaze. 

“If you really ordered it rare, there wouldn’t need to be any preparation,” he mumbles.

Another new patron. But not the final guest. A woman. Then, two women. They claim two stools at the bar. One of them has a flip phone? Or maybe a compact.

“Maybe we should just call him.” The words come out smoother, like the usual voice it’s cloaked in.

The former, older, and wiser, says, “Fat chance he’d pick up.”

Thankfully, neither have to wait too long. It’s kind of the worst when he shows up last. He never looks weary or worn. 

“Hey fuckers,” he chirps sing-songedly, throwing his leather jacket-clad arms into the air in triumph.

His enviable visage is complete with that signature, cocky smirk. When it strides past the two girls at the bar, it leaves amused titters in its wake. When it arrives at the booth, it elicits grumbles. 

“You look like hell,” he can’t help but say, his eyes flashing like fire engine sirens for just a moment.

“Took you long enough,” says the second to arrive, though the first is still just as annoyed with both of their tardiness.

“Barely noticed that you summoned us.” The newest guest flashes his eyes, now clean and pure, at the oldest. When he sees the disapproving look that is waiting for him, the newest guest looks down to the table and sits on the opposite side.

“Jungkook.” The oldest looks to the other guest. “Yoongi.” He sighs, as if saying both of their names to their faces has rid him of just a little bit of palpable stress. “If there’s any sign that we need to be more careful, then it’s tonight.”

Jungkook furrows his brow in confusion, but when he takes a closer look at Yoongi’s torn clothes, he starts to understand. He looks over to the solitary figure across the table, pushing his tomato soup around for no reason other than he’s annoyed and needs something to do with his hands. “Something happened?”

“It did to me,” Jin replies. “And I suspect it did to you, too?”

His gaze is aimed at Yoongi, who just nods.

“Is that why your call was so weak, Jin-hyung?” Jungkook asks him, his braggadociousness finally being tempered at the thought of a threat.

“Maybe.” Jin sighs and looks out the window. “Maybe it’s also a sign of the inevitable fall.”

Jungkook exchanges glances with Yoongi, who rolls his eyes. 

When the two of them turn back to Jin, his hand is on the window pane, fingers tracing the rain droplets that are starting to fatten and quicken outside.

“Always with the brooding,” Jungkook sneers, as footsteps draw near.

The waitress returns with a rare steak and, though Yoongi’s arms are stretched out, she places the dish in front of Jin without question or clarification. She beams at him. “I know you said rare, but I had our cook put a nice, crispy sear on the---”

“You may go,” says Jin, with a bored lilt and a curt nod.

The waitress, in that familiar stupor, falls happily silent. She turns on her heel and, still enchanted, disappears into the kitchen.

“She’s particularly sensitive to you,” Jungkook notices, as Jin places the steak in front of a ravenous Yoongi.

Amidst Yoongi’s scarfing, Jin replies, “Wish that had been the case with the other one.”

“Hottie from the club?” Jungkook smirks. “That tiny thing? But she was so into you?”

Jin sighs and lifts the left side of his black, wool coat to show that he’s bleeding through his billowy, ruffled white linen shirt. Leftover fragments of a wooden stake tentpole the fabric around the wound.

Scraps of meat fall out of Yoongi’s mouth. “Hyung! Are you---”

“I’m fine,” Jin sighs, “though my heart would appear to be otherwise.”

“That looks gnarly,” Jungkook sighs in awe. “Never seen you get hit that bad before?”

“Yeah, I’m regenerating quite slowly.” He huffs. “Anyway, I’m afraid the emotional wound hurts much worse,” Jin laments, letting his coat settle as he lets go of the hem. 

“Well, what happened?” Jungkook asks sweetly, as Yoongi gnaws on his meal.

Jin smiles happily, holding a deep burgundy dahlia in his hands. He flew here in a flash to get to you, but nowadays, nothing makes him feel like he’s soaring more than the excited tip-toed stance he takes when he’s waiting outside your door.

He knocks one more time and runs a hand through his hair. Why so quiet? And what’s taking so long?

“Door’s open!” you call back. “Come in!”

Jin smirks to himself as he steps through the doorway, pushing the door open and hearing the pleasing creaks of your floorboard announcing his arrival.

You twirl out of your bathroom, freshly showered, a large, lavender towel around you, its smaller version being ruffled through your hair as you meet him in the living room.

“Hi,” you say, every bit as enchanting as Jin remembers.

“Good evening,” Jin says softly. 

Tickled by his formality, you toss the smaller towel onto your couch and reach out for him, planting a kiss on his lips that tastes like soap and sugar. He can’t help but giggle at the feeling you give him. He knows best how rare excitement truly is in life.

“I brought this---”

You let the unaccepted dahlia fall to the floor, hands wrapping around Jin’s chiseled torso, peaks and valleys able to be felt even through that dark wool coat. 

“You got here so fast,” you observe.

“Glad I got your text,” Jin answers. Not technically a lie. He felt you call for him before you actually did. 

“Want you,” you purr, just like you did as you were exiting the club in Jin’s hold. “Was thinking of last week. Was wondering if you wanted a sequel.”

Jin groans as you untie the towel from around your chest, and toss it onto your couch, too.

“Yes, my dear,” he croons, pulling you into his embrace and enveloping you in another deep, immersive kiss that makes the room spin.

Sweat chases the water droplets dripping down your body, and mewls chase the moans Jin whispers against your skin. 

“Ready for you,” you tell him. “Needy.”

You pull him into your bedroom and lie down in the center of your bed, spreading your legs as Jin tosses off his coat and clothes. He stands at the foot of the bed, marble skin over marbled muscle, tongue and lips red as they move against each other.

“Delicious,” Jin rumbles, eyeing your pink pussy, already fully blossomed for him.

This is exactly what you wanted, Jin sinking to his knees and placing his mouth on you, lips working like fingers, sucking gently to warm you up.

“Mmm,” you sigh, as your hand reaches for his hair. You take a fistful of it. You grab it, letting it spill between your fingers. 

“How’s it feel?” Jin asks, though you’re unsure how his voice is so clear, given that his mouth has stayed incredibly busy.

“Exquisite,” you say, breathless. You’re a little surprised at yourself. That kind of chatter doesn’t really seep out of you in these kinds of moments. But it’s true. The way Jin makes you feel. Like your skin is silk. Like your veins are lightning strikes. Like your brain isn’t yours anymore.

His fingers are inside of you before you can open your mouth to ask. You gladly keep your teeth on your lips, then, as Jin starts to work at your entrance, continuing to flood your pussy with more arousal with every single lick and suck.

You start to hear his throaty gulps as he feasts, and your hips move in response, hypnotized by the way he seems to know what you want without asking, or even without you realizing.

“Can I bite?” Jin asks. “Have a different sort of… taste?”

“Fuck, yes,” you groan, clamping down on your hold of his hair with glee.

A sharp pinch. Like teeth poking and prodding. That’s all you feel. Those tiny nibbles. Jin forces himself not to make much more, and not to take much more than might dribble out of the microscopic slice. But he just had to ask. The sight of your swollen pussy, so red and full that it looked like it could explode. If there was any chance he could taste you, really taste you, there, he’d be a fool to pass it up.

You’re lucky he didn’t. The orgasm that washes over you is unlike any other, save for the one Jin gave you the night that you met. Intense and filling, not just in the body parts that are being touched and worked and stuffed, but also the other spaces of you. You felt him in your chest, throbbing with such intensity. You felt him in your mind, and it felt like both of you were reeling. You felt him in your very soul, as if this were something destined to happen. 

You grunt and sigh, feeling his tongue cool that spot, and cool your body back down after you’ve come.

“Didn’t know I’d be so into that,” you admit, trying to catch your breath as you release that tuft of hair.

He hums happily. “I know so much of you already,” he observes. “And I know what comes next.”

“Oh, you do?” you ask teasingly, nearly coming again when he rises, leans over you, and brushes the tip of his stone-like cock against your tender flesh.

“Yeah, I do,” Jin tells you with certainty.

He can so easily see a world where this is all you do, every day, spending time together, passing time together, wrapped up in each other, brought even closer together on the nights that he needs to feed. And with you appearing to be giving, like just now, he knows he’ll always be fed. He’s wanted it for so long. Wanted you for so long. He knows that it’s only a matter of time before he’ll turn you. But first, he must ensure that you are his.

He falls to your breasts, kissing your heaving and sweating mounds gently before finding your left nipple, curling his tongue around it and feeling every single ridge and valley, flicking up and down, and then flattening against you, letting his syrupy saliva coat you before slurping it all up again. 

When you shiver and moan, he asks.

“Can I mark you?” he breathes.

“Mark me up,” you grunt. “Whatever you want, do it.”

He grins. Lies between your breasts, nestled firmly against your breastbone. He nibbles again. Licks the spot. And marks you with his scent. A plume of vetiver and sandalwood. Smoky. Earthy. What you come from. What you return to. How you disappear.

“Fuck, yes,” you whine, as Jin enters you, more than happy at the invitation to do whatever he wants with you.

The first stroke overwhelms and sends you into a dizzying spin. The second stroke feels barely there by comparison. But then as he pumps in and out of you, slow and sweet, you gain more clarity. 

By the time he’s hammering into you, holding your limbs in place to keep you from completely falling apart, his strong, heavy body on top of yours to let you know that he’s got you, that he will always have you, you feel something entirely new.

He chuckles when he feels your pussy twitch around him. 

“Ready, my sweet?” he asks, without really needing to.

Your words are a mess, tripping over themselves and tangling into unintelligible sounds. But Jin understands. He grinds down into you, moving harder, and faster, even harder, and faster, until your body transforms into waves of pleasure, rolling across your sheets like the softest sea foam.

You struggle to catch your breath again, but your eyes pop open, finding Jin gazing down at you.

“That was perfect,” you sigh, beaming. “Exactly what I wanted.”

“I will always aim to please you,” Jin tells you dutifully. He caringly strokes your hair. “Now, what of your flower?”

“I think it’s been pummeled to bits,” you chuckle, rising up and kissing him. 

“No, I mean, the dahlia,” Jin clarifies. “The flower I brought you. Shall I put it in water?” He furrows his brow. “Doesn’t it need that, or, something? And your towels. Shall I hang them for you, to dry?”

You grimace. “No, I can do that.” You look past him, at the ceiling behind his head. “And, uh, I’m not really into flowers like that, actually…” 

When you turn to meet his gaze, your heart sinks at the fond look he’s showering you with. 

You wonder why guys are always like this. Reams of stories from your friends of guys who just up and leave, and you actually feel jealous. And they feel the same when you talk about how guys always want to spend forever with you. You get the funny feeling that Jin is particularly adamant about finding someone to spend forever with. 

“So… anyway… uh, that was fun,” you say, rolling out of his grip, “but I’m sure you have the rest of your evening to get to, so---”

Jin can even smell the tone of your voice. He’s had this conversation so many times with so many people that even though the words change, its scent is unchanging, and unmistakable. 

Funny how scents were such a joyful thing just a second ago.

He’ll never understand this. He’s always been able to move from human to human. But he’ll never understand how humans can just move from heart to heart. More than that, he’ll never understand how humans can skip the heart altogether. A muscle so full of what gives life its meaning, and yet, yours seems to be empty.

“But I marked you,” Jin replies.

“Huh?” you ask, furrowing your brow.

“I marked you,” Jin repeats, folding his arms. “Just now. I marked you. You said that I could.”

“Right, the biting,” you sigh, lips curling into a thrilled smile despite the misunderstanding. “Trust me, that was great.” You run your hands up and down his arms and notice how cold he is. “But, uh,” you say, your hands slowing. Wasn’t his body on fire just a second ago? How can he feel this cold? “Well, even with as much fun as we’ve been having,” you go on, releasing Jin from your hold, “I really think I wanna give it a go with someone I’ve met… He’s just…” You can’t hide the smile that forms. “I dunno. Different.”

“I’m different,” Jin says, taking a step toward you.

You chuckle. “Yes, you are. You’re…” You try to search for a term that won’t sting. “Quirky.”

Jin’s eyebrows slide over each other, as your legs slide across the mattress and back out to the living room.

He follows you, starting to get riled up. “No. I mean… I’m… different.”

“All guys think they are,” you scoff, starting to get annoyed. “C’mon. We had a great time---”

“You said you felt exquisite,” Jin says. He softens just a little. “You are.”

“Thanks,” you say stiffly, attempting to wrap your smaller towel around your body by mistake. You reach for the bigger one and start to clothe yourself, curious as to why Jin is standing so defiantly in your living room. “But, y’know how it is. This is… I mean, to say, you and I can just be…”

Could it be that Jin is so good at fucking that you’re starting to see things? Like fangs at his lips? And pupils so blown out that his eyes have gone completely dark?

“You’re mine, now,” he bellows.

You frown. “Excuse me?”

“Mine.” He cocks his head. “Isn’t that what you---”

“I’m nobody’s,” you spit, leaning down and picking up the dahlia. You try to ignore how, or why, this is slowly feeling like a rebellion, when this is your apartment, your life, to begin with. “Yeah, OK, you’ve proven your point. You’re different. Weirder. Creepier. Who would want to keep seeing you? I certainly don’t.”

You crush the dahlia into his broad, oddly dry chest, given your recent activities.

“So, now,” you pronounce, “you can see yourself the fuck out out of my home.”

“But the wound?” Jungkook asks.

“I tripped and fell when I got outside. Landed on some jagged two by fours by a construction site.” Jin shakes his head at his literal as much as his figurative clumsiness. “To add insult to injury.”

“What of the girl since?” Yoongi asks.

“She’s sent me more desperate texts as the night goes on,” Jin sighs. “My mark and bite have clearly affected her. And I hear her thoughts. Calling for me. Apologizing.” He could see how your fiery energy could make things interesting. That push-pull fueling a romance that would bring him all kinds of fun throughout the ages. “But that rejection,” Jin resolves. “Those words. I just… I don’t think I can come back from that.”

“Damn,” Jungkook sighs, as Yoongi licks his fingers clean.

As Yoongi reaches down for the blood-stained plate, Jungkook places a hand in front of his face to stop him, forcing the plate back down onto the table.

Yoongi glares at him. “Lucky I don’t eat your hand.”

“I’ll just form another,” Jungkook points out.

Yoongi snarls. “Then give it here.”

He snaps his jaws at Jungkook, who just pulls away with nonchalance. 

“You can’t fall for every vixen you see,” Jungkook goes on, watching as his eldest hyung’s bottom lip trembles at his heartbreak. “Pick something easy.” Jungkook’s eyes fall on the two women at the stools, who keep looking over. “You need to feed soon,” Jungkook points out. “That wound. The frailty of your call.”

“Frailty,” Yoongi mumbles sardonically, exchanging glances with Jin.

“Yes, frailty,” Jungkook says pointedly, though both Yoongi and Jin snicker.

“You’re right, clever maknae,” Jin sighs, fond eyes pouring over him. “I guess I’m being---”

“Dramatic,” Jungkook replies.

“Annoying,” Yoongi says.

“Sensitive,” Jin replies flatly, looking at them both, with a glance that warns that he won’t be too thrilled if everybody is going to keep speaking this freely.

Jungkook and Yoongi lower their eyes. Three whimpers fall from Yoongi’s lips.

Jungkook turns to his other hyung and notices the hanging threads of his clothes. He noses Yoongi’s shoulder, and Yoongi sighs, seemingly put off at the contact, but leaning into Jungkook’s touch.

“And what happened here?” he asks.

“Well, I guess I can’t really fault Jin-hyung for being dramatic or annoying or sensitive,” Yoongi admits.

He looks around the table.

“I had a bit of a rough night, too.”

Yoongi thinks he knows what he’s risking by doing this. It’s daunting. It’s potentially a mistake. But seeing the glimpse of you in that tank top and those shorts as you opened the door while throwing your long, see-through, floral kimono, hair tossing from one side to the other, smile brightening at the sight of him. 

He knows it’ll be worth it, either way.

“Yoongi,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around him and stroking his back. “Glad you’re here. Let’s have some fun.”

He chuckles quietly, feeling along the outline of the back of your tank top with his hand.

“Fun, huh?”

You giggle, and after closing and locking the door behind him, you lead him not into your living room, but your bedroom, still awash in the late afternoon glow.

“I thought we were watching a movie before getting dinner?” he asks, holding up the chips and sodas that he always brings.

“We are,” you say, gesturing to the bowls of candy and popcorn that you’ve already prepared. “But I thought lying in bed might be more comfortable, since you’re always so uncomfortable on my couch.”

Yoongi holds his breath. The reason he’s uncomfortable on your couch will only be made worse by moving to your bed. Longtime friends shouldn’t feel this kind of discomfort with each other. And that’s what ultimately convinced Yoongi to risk it all.

He’s feeling like he’s made the right choice as you settle into bed and pat the space next to you.

“So, what’s on deck for tonight?” you ask, cuddling into him.

He’d forgotten it was his turn to pick.

He smirks and reaches for your remote, clicking on the music documentary that he’s already seen and knows that, despite your initial protests, you’ll end up loving it. 

How he hopes you’ll end up loving something unexpected.

Before the first scoff drips out of your mouth, he tells you, “Now, now, I heard this was really good, and I have a feeling you’ll actually like it.”

You smile at him and hold him tighter. “Willing to give it a try.” You frown. “It better not be too much, though.”

“Too much?” Yoongi asks thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” you say lazily, “y’know, people feeling way too earnest about their contrived work, or people paying lip service for terrible stuff.” You shrug. “But you’re the expert.”

Yoongi nods. “Sure.”

The title screen starts, and you reach for some candy.

Yoongi watches you, unable to help himself.

“Am I too much?” he asks.

You furrow your brow. “What?”

“Am I too much to deal with?” Yoongi asks.

You face each other, mirroring your stances.

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “You were about to complain before you even saw the movie. Is it like that with me?”

When you stay silent, trying to hear him, he goes on. “There are sides of me that are… raw. Real. A little angry. A little unpolished. And I know I can let those out from time to time.” He sighs. “So if you’re not into people who can be too much---”

You laugh. “No, Yoongi.” You place a kiss on his cheek, making his heart do a flip. “I love being with you. I love how well we know each other. You’re never too much.” And then you smile. “You’re human.”

Yoongi nods. “Right.”

He smiles at your grin, and he feels his body lurching forward, still unable to help himself.

The kiss you share is sweeter than the candy you’ve just downed, sweeter than the soda he’s just swallowed, sweeter than anything you can remember from not just the last five minutes, but the last lifetime.

You pull away, surprised, but still wanting.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows in question.

A smile unfolds on your lips.

“How have we not done that yet?” you ask, brightening.

Yoongi blushes, eliciting a fond and warm laugh.

“I’ve wanted to,” he admits. “For a while now.” 

You take his cheeks in your hands and place another kiss, slower, less scared, on his lips. You melt into each other. “Like honey,” you whisper.

He rolls on top of you and buries more kisses in your lips. He was so confident, and yet, he’s still so excited that he was right. He knows you. He knows you love him like he loves you. He knows you will love the rest of him, too.

“Mmm, Yoongi, you’re---” It’s your turn to blush. “You’re kind of… turning me on.”

Yoongi hums. “Should I go, or… can I stay and do something about it?”

Your eyes search down his body. You haven’t seen him from this angle before. Strong arms, deceivingly willowy. Narrow torso, but all muscle. A slight flare at the hips, which curves enticingly into his round ass. An ass you used to slap playfully. An ass you hope will pack a punch as he slams into you.

“Please stay,” you whisper, bumping your nose against his.

He falls back into you, helping you out of your clothes, and wriggling out of his. 

His hand falls to your flesh, fingers surprised at how wet you already are just from your shared kiss. He plunges into you, and you start to move in concert, following where his fingers take you.

You reach down for him, too. Hands moistened by a mix of your spit and a quick dip into your own arousal, you clench your hands around his shaft, sliding up and down, and engulfing that turgid, pink tip in your grasp. 

Yoongi moans into your mouth when you squeeze him there, running your thumb over his leaking slit and carrying its juices down your shaft again, all the way down to his balls, fondling and squeezing just right.

Your hips start to grind, bodies moving against each other now, friction somehow building though you’re both wet messes. His neck cranes left as he scoops down to kiss your collarbone, gnawing there a little and making you keen. His free hand grabs your breast and caresses you, thumb flicking over your taut nipple. And as you keep one hand around his perfect cock, so long and strong as it glides in and out of your drenched fingers, your other hand wraps around his waist to find his ass.

A handful isn’t nearly enough. You want all of it, firm, supple, gorgeous, in your hold.

“Fuck me, Yoongi,” you sigh, releasing his cock and grabbing his ass cheeks, separating them a little as you pull them toward you.

He looks down at you in surprise.

“I want it,” you tell him. “I want all of you. Everything that I didn’t know was there.”

He grunts and lines himself up with your entrance, giddy with anticipation. And when he slides in the moan that you let out starts at that entrance, traveling all the way up your skin, your spine, your throat, and back out again, into Yoongi’s delectable, slurping, slobbering kiss.

Three quick pumps, and Yoongi’s fully inside of you, stretching you out, transforming your body from the pleasant innocence you were expecting into this fiery brilliance that you didn’t know you would be experiencing.

“Good,” you keen. “So, so good.”

Yoongi growls and moves faster, causing you to grab his ass even harder, pulling him up and into you, and helping you have something to hold onto as you slam down to meet him at the hilt.

“Ohhh,” Yoongi moans, on one particularly good stroke, making you both shiver and know that it’s nearly time.

You lock eyes, and with a couple of effortful strokes, you both come, his body wrapping around yours as you fight against his, clawing at each other, both of you falling and slipping into this wonderful new world.

Yoongi’s eyes are so bleary when he wakes up.

“Fuck.”

How long have you been sleeping? He scrambles for his phone. Where is his phone? Where are his pants? Where are his clothes?

“Fuck!”

You don’t rise. Yoongi knows how heavy of a sleeper you are. You’re the reason they’ve adapted fire alarms to be so ridiculously skin-crawling.

He finds his clothes tossed aside, on the floor. He digs out his phone. 

It’s nearly time.

“Hey,” Yoongi whispers, voice rushed, eyes pleading. “Wake up. Wake---”

He forgets that his voice always changes first.

“---Up.”

At the sudden morph, octaves even lower, you finally open your eyes. You look over to see that Yoongi has torn away from you, sitting at the other end of the mattress, head in his hands.

“This is what I was trying to explain,” he chokes out, body shaking. “It’s--- I’m a---” 

Voice deepens and echoes from depths that surely cannot exist solely within his body. This is coming from someplace else, entirely. Someplace unknown to you. Someplace you hope to stay unknown.

You focus on his face, snout lengthening, fur starting to populate on his once smooth and shiny skin. Weren’t you just holding that face in your hands and praising him for his honey-sweet kiss? What kind of kiss would come from these angry jowls?

“It’s still me,” he says, obviously pained that you have to see him like this. “I’m still Yoongi.”

He knows he’s lost you completely when you see his eyes turn. It’s inevitable. Your kind seems to look to one’s eyes to understand truth at its core. Your kind has yet to accept that that truth can shift and still be honest.

The scream you unveil is both elegant and heartbreaking. You cower in the corner of your bedroom. With as strong as Yoongi sensed you to be, he’s surprised you aren’t fighting back in any way. That you aren’t, say, reaching under your bed for the baseball bat emblazoned with your company’s logo. Or scampering toward your kitchen to grab the chef’s knife that he got for you. Instead, you’re shivering and making yourself so small. Covering yourself with your arms. Rocking back and forth. Muttering something under your breath over and over, like a prayer.

“Please go away. Please go away. Please go away.”

It’s Yoongi’s turn to cower, whining and gnawing on his sore limbs.

When he tries to face you again, hoping for an ounce of understanding, the same kind that you showed him just hours before, he gets fear instead.

Yoongi details how he had planned to explain everything. How, regardless of your reaction, he was going to rush out of there before the moon was fully revealed to the night. How he had chosen the perfect clearing in the forest to find a kill. How he ended up spending the peak of his transformation hiding behind the dumpsters at your apartment complex instead.

“Turns out it wasn’t worth it, after all,” Yoongi comments sadly. “And that it was too much.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, and he fights the layering emotions threatening to choke him. 

“Yoongles,” Jin says, stately and authoritative, “rid your mind of that insipid female and focus on the next. Surely she will be able to see and handle your truth, honor, valor, conviction, and---”

“And that monster dick,” Jungkook chimes in with a couple of playful thrusts, grinning after he’s won the battle against those pesky emotions. 

As Yoongi and Jin laugh, Jungkook aims to take the stage, but that waitress reappears, nearly silent in her pitiful slithering to the table.

“Can I get y’all anything else, hun?” she simps, heart-eyes beaming at Jin.

Jungkook morphs his face into hers, even catching the few streaks of gray at her widow’s peak, and smiles sickeningly sweetly back at her. “No, hun,” he mimics in perfect, mocking tune, “we’re all good here! Thanks, doll!”

The waitress’s skin starts to match those few streaks of gray, her frenzied eyes mimicking the state of her mind. Still so charmed and pulled to serve Jin. Still so thrown by Yoongi’s bloody plate. But so confused and terrified at the fact that she’s staring at her head on Jungkook’s leather-clad body, and hearing her own voice being played back to her.

“Umm… I…” The waitress whimpers, heart-eyes turning into swirls. “I-I-I…”

“Go,” Jin says, nearly breaking with laughter.

The waitress finds her feet and runs into the kitchen, nervously babbling as she goes.

“Now,” Jungkook says, as Yoongi and Jin snicker along, “if we’re done with your monster dick,” he says, eyeing Yoongi, “and if you’re done with getting that waitress to suck yours,” he adds, eyeing a smirking Jin, “can I finally tell you about mine?”

He launches into his story for the evening, sparing no graphic detail, heart racing and eyes alighting as he explains every single minute movement made by either of you in your ruined bed. With each angled eyebrow, or scandalized smirk, or shifted stance, Jungkook knows how to adjust and adapt his words to get the exact reactions that he wants out of his hyungs. Excitement. A little bit of envy. Mostly pride.

When he finishes with your spent body melding into your soaked sheets, Yoongi scoffs, “Incredible.” 

And then Yoongi looks to Jin. “Maybe we should take the maknae’s approach.” He returns his steady, studying eyes on Jungkook. “He always seems to be happiest out of all of us. Maybe it’s because he’s rid himself of the expectation to stay in any one place for longer than an evening.”

“It’s in his nature,” Jin points out. “They’re just… different.”

There’s always a point in every hangout when Jungkook makes the same decision. The decision to keep the rest unsaid. Tonight, this is it.

With a pained smile, he laughs along and serves up glowing reviews as to why his incubus existence is completely superior to theirs. 

Nevermind that he leaves out the one meaningful way that all three are the same, the very reason pulling them together, to this booth.

You hate that you had to call Jungkook at all. You tell him every day at work that his cocky grin does nothing but perterb you to no end. But you’re kind of lying. It also lights your pussy on fire every time you think of it. When he shows up to your door wearing it, you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

“I hear that you’re in need of my services,” Jungkook says proudly.

“Ugh, nevermind,” you grumble, moving to slam the door in his face instead.

You always forget how strong he is. He stops you with one quick movement, the door and your weight against it doing nothing to make his forearm, let alone his body, budge from its spot.

He pushes inside your apartment, just like you undeniably hope for him to push inside of you.

“I made a mistake,” you say, a little woozy from the wine you’ve been enjoying by yourself.

“You haven’t,” Jungkook says, “yet.”

You let out an aggravated sigh.

“Fine,” you say. “OK. Look. I was alone, and having some wine, and I started feeling…” The warmth that the alcohol brought to your body. The sweat you felt on your back and neck. How badly you need someone to lick it off of you. 

You huff. 

“I’m pretty sure you get where I’m going. I didn’t want to get on the apps because, ugh.”

“Ugh,” Jungkook agrees.

“So are you in or not?” you ask.

Jungkook smirks. “Baby, I’m always in.”

You hate yourself.

You start unbuttoning your top, doing your best to hide your eyes from Jungkook’s knowing, smirking gaze. 

“You could start by not looking so pleased with yourself,” you snap.

Jungkook just chuckles as his leather jacket falls to the floor. His shirt joins it soon after.

You’re still struggling with your top button.

“You called me.”

Jungkook steps forward. 

“So let me help.”

He takes your hands in his. He takes a deep breath, and then lets it out. You do the same, following his lead. 

And then he rips your blouse open, letting the silk fall away and land on the ground.

He picks you up and wraps your legs around him, letting his face suffocate in the mounds of your ample breasts. You moan as he licks and sucks your flesh there, pulling double-duty as his fingers start to massage you through your jeans, palm supporting your ass as he carries you back to your room.

The wine glass and phone that brought him here are still on the nightstand. They crash to the ground when he throws you back into your bed, the force causing the mattress to bounce and shift.

“Fuck, not so hard,” you whine.

“Pretty sure you’ll be taking that back in a minute,” Jungkook laughs hastily.

“Ugh, I fucking hate you so---” 

His lips interrupt your thoughts. Like they always do. Like you need them to.

And then, all there is to do is focus on your release.

He hovers over you, hands and lips somehow everywhere at once. You aren’t sure how he does it, and you don’t really particularly care to watch at this point. Though it is nice when you sneak a peek here and there.

A peek of his flexing abs as he arches back and begins to slide into you.

A glance at his tense jaw, when he leans over you to put in more effort, hips rocking and bumping into each other as he rams himself inside.

A glimpse of his furrowed brow, as he’s running through all the ways he wants you, and as he’s surprised when you make your own moves.

In contrast, Jungkook’s eyes are always on you.

They’re on you as you roll him over and push him down so that you can ride him, measured and dragging at first, until you pick up the pace 

They’re on you as he rolls you over and takes you from behind, crossing your wrists behind you and holding you up by your forearms.

They’re on you as he kneels at your feet, spreading your legs, tongue searching your folds but never quite finding what they want, happy to go on exploring until you surrender and scream his name.

And now.

Watching you sleep so soundly.

Given his nature, he knows that this is when he should want you most. This is when he should truly enter, disrupting your dreams and taking you there. How many women has he taken like that, left completely wrecked and ravaged and ruined, before disappearing?

The sordid details will definitely be accounted for. You absolutely were whining and keening as he moved against you, thrusting deep into the channel of your tight pussy, hammering you so hard that you felt the crown of his dick hitting the crown of your head. 

But he isn’t sure if he’ll share this.

How something has shifted.

He lies there, gazing at you, irises following the bend of your shoulders. The sphere of your breast. The line of your hip. The curve of your spine. The rounds of your ass, and thighs, and calves. Even the circles of the heels of your feet. All of them, perfect.

He would rather sacrifice himself than disturb you when you’re like this.

And that worries him.

The feeling doesn’t seem to be going away. 

How can someone like him, who has everything, want more?

“Gonna go,” he whispers, surprised that he isn’t going to take what he’s so used to taking from others.

“Bye,” you mumble, nestling further into your pillow. “Mm. Thanks.”

He knows this won’t be the last time. So he just smiles to himself.

And though his heart is suddenly lighter at the sound, he can’t believe he’s out the door before he hears Jin’s voice calling him back into the night.

MASTERLIST 💻 |  MASTERLIST 📱 (mobile-friendly)

[divine-mistake]

'till death blooms us art

Summary: You’d rather die loving him than never getting to see the sun ever again.

(“Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. This number is not available. At the tone, please record your message.”)

Characters: Sam Wilson/Plus-sized Reader

Warnings: 18+ (no smut), strong language, Hanahaki AU, angst with a happy ending, weight insecurity, allusions to eating disorders, talk about death, blood, past domestic abuse and trauma, gun violence, original male character, book quotes, anxiety

Word Count: 12796

A/N: Thank you for reading! This fic won the vote during my 500 follower celebration and it's finally out now! This story has a lot of meaning for me, due to it being a bit of a metaphor for disorderly eating. I know that will make some people uncomfortable, but as someone who has struggled for a long time, I want to talk more openly about this kind of thing. Anyway, thanks so much for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy!

main masterlist | AO3 | playlist by @tripleyeeet

—STUBBORN WEEDS—

They are everywhere—covering the space of the sitting room like an overgrown garden made of glass and paint, canvas and pages torn from old waterlogged books, stained mugs filled with decaying brushes. Wanda walks through your room like it’s a maze, her fingers trailing over the air but never touching the art. She’s pretending she’s in a museum, or a gallery, or something fancier than what you could ever appear in, but a twinge of something akin to warmth stabs through your heart at the thought.

“These are incredible,” she says, not looking at you. “How do you do it?”

With a shrug, you bend down and pick up one of the canvasses from the floor, holding it out to look at it.

“I don’t know,” you lie.

White space in the shape of flowers, uneven and missing petals here and there, is outlined in streaks of paint that go every direction, in every different shade, hard edges and soft, blurred lines and covering the entirety of the canvas except for those spaces where flowers once sat, pinned to the medium.

“They are beautiful,” Wanda says.

Your nail sneaks under one of the dried chunks of acrylic and you chip it—a fleck of ultramarine blue falls from the painting.

When you turn, Wanda studies a different piece in careful hands. It’s a glass case, trimmed with shitty, shaky lines of gold you painted on a whim. But inside, between the thick panes, dried flowers painted over are encased in eternity, arranged to match their exact placements on the canvas where your brushes stroked life onto them, around them, through them. Two perfect pieces that once belonged together, separated like an act of Adam against his God.

Maybe they were meant to be together, but no one will ever know their story.

“They’re amateur,” you tell her, laughing. “I’m not much of an artist. It’s just for fun.”

She smiles at you, placing the glass piece down. “You have a talent.”

Wanda takes another turn about the room, another circuit, another spin. She looks at every piece in such focus, taking in every single detail, fingers stretching and curling as if she wants to caress the dried flowers, the dried paint, and feel their meaning. You wonder what she would say if she could read their minds—the art you’ve made. Would your pieces tell her the true meaning behind their existence? Or maybe they would laugh, or cry, or howl in pain.

But Wanda only stares, at the paintings and at you, a small smile on her face like she knows something you don’t. Like she’s keeping a secret. Is she keeping the secrets that the flowers have whispered to her when you weren’t looking?

“What inspired them?” she asks, the very tip of her nail tracing a different glass box filled with dyed petals reconstructed into a larger artificial flower, protected by its own display.

You wring your hands together. “I like flowers.”

She laughs. “That’s obvious. But what makes them special enough to paint? To—To make such lovely art out of?”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you place the small canvas you’d been holding back on the side table, crossing the room to your bookshelf. Your fingertip finds the spine of a hardcover book you’re too familiar with, pulling it out and into your awaiting hands. Sheets of paper, a little bent and crooked, stick out of the pages.

You crack it open, the dulling white petals of a daisy pressed flat between the crackling spine fluttering from between the black inked words, then fall to the floor at your feet.

“The Devil’s hand directs our every move,” you read. “The things we loathed become the things we love.”

Wanda stares at you as you fiddle with the book, tracing the words of the cover.

“Les Fleurs du Mal,” you say. “The Flowers of Evil.”

Gently and without word, she bows at your feet and picks up the drying daisy, cradling it in her pale hands, but you don’t have the strength to take it from her.

(“Hey there darlin’, it’s just me. I had to run some errands this morning, y’know how it is, so I’m out of the Tower right now. I was just wondering if you needed anything while I was out. Anything—really, anything at all. Even breakfast, or maybe a latte? Just a little pick-me-up. Well, give me a call back if you need anything. If not, I’ll be back soon. See ya.”)

—BETTER TOGETHER—

“Steven Grant,” you say his name like a curse, shaking your head. “This is why you spend three hours a day in the gym.”

Too busy shoving the first bite of his first hoagie into his mouth, Steve doesn’t reply. You roll your eyes, but the smile on your lips gives you away. When he’s finally swallowed, wiping crumbs from his mouth, he looks a little indignant.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“Well, you would be if you didn’t have that serum running through you.”

He frowns, brows furrowed, a little confusion on his face. “I thought it was because I work out three hours a day. And I’ll have you know—”

“—you work out six hours a day between your morning runs and training, I know, I know. I’ve heard it all before Steve.” You groan at the thought. “It’s like it’s your job.”

“It is my job. Saving the world and all that.”

“Okay, you really need to let America know that it’s giving you a complex, ‘cause if I hear one more thing about you saving the world, I think I’m going to scream.”

He shrugs, taking another gigantic bite out of his sandwich. Scraps of shredded lettuce fall out from between the buns and litter his plate. You pick at your own, pulling uneven pieces of sliced onion and stray pickles from the hoagie, content to sit and stare at it instead of eating.

Food is good. You brush the grainy crumbs of bread from your fingers. Food is good, but you just aren’t hungry. And you don’t work out three hours a day. Maybe you should start. Your body feels like a balloon with all your insides threatening to come up in a retch and choke you. Food is good. Food is good. You just have to pick up the sandwich and eat it.

Fingers shaking, you take the sub in your hand and stare at the corner where you mean to take the first bite.

“You good?”

Steve, still chewing, looks at you with concern clear in his crystal blues and it makes you put your food back down on the plate. Instead, you busy yourself with another sip of your water, nodding at him.

“Yeah. We can’t all be Steve Rogers, demolishing two hoagies in less than two seconds, y’know.” You throw in a snort, trying to sound nonchalant. “Wipe your mouth, Captain. You’ve got mayo on your cheek.”

He doesn’t, but him grabbing a napkin to embarrassedly wipe a nonexistent condiment from his face gives you enough time to pick your sandwich back up and contemplate taking the first bite. You’ve just gotta start with the first bite and the rest will go down.

But you aren’t hungry. How can you be hungry when you’re already so full? Stuffed, even. There isn’t room in your insides. All your organs are bursting. It’s so painful sometimes, the expanding of your skin to accommodate. Waves of sickness roll through you, spreading. Your stomach is stretched, bloated, filled with all the swallowed—

“What are you doin’ to my girl, huh Steve?”

The sound of his voice alone makes the ache inside of you dissipate, the nausea escapes from your throat, the anxiety twitching through your hands steadies. Your head perks up, shoulders rolling back as your entire body relaxes, and you look behind you.

And there, dressed in a tight blue polo and a pair of pants clinging to his legs like they were made for him, the very angel who blessed you, the devil who cursed you, the god of the fucking sun and everything it could ever touch, stands before you with a smile saved just for you.

Sam Wilson.

His dark eyes are piercing, like he’s trying to peel back the layers of your skin to see underneath, as he shoves his hands in his pockets and grins with all his teeth.

“Hey honey,” he says—simply and easily and not serious. Never serious.

Your lungs burn. Your mouth feels too dry to answer him.

“Oh, your girl?” Steve asks him, brows a little too furrowed to be joking. “When did she become your girl?”

Sam shrugs, walking toward the empty seat next to you, placing his hand on the back of your chair so dangerously close to your body that it makes you pull in a deep breath. His thumb could brush against the fabric of your shirt, run along the seam of your spine. And, goddamn, it should be illegal for him to look so casual and so unbothered while still looking that handsome.

Like this, you can smell the spice in his cologne, a powerful mix of something you’re sure is designed to drive you crazy.

He looks down at you, still hovering over where you sit, and throws a wink your way that brings heat to the surface of your cheeks.

“Aw, she’s always been my girl, ain’t that right? Tell him, darlin’.”

You stare at Sam for one second too long, breaking away to gaze down at your uneaten sandwich again. With every flutter that Sam sends down your stomach, the heaviness inside it seems to fade away. Your fullness is replaced by a familiar hunger—the rawness of your throat waning as a burning itch takes over. A cough is threatening to bubble up. You choke it back, smiling instead.

“He’s right, Stevie,” you say all bright and cheery again.

Steve meets your eyes with a stony gaze, unreadable, his blue eyes looking gray in the light. Beside you, Sam throws himself down in one of the chairs and pulls up to the table, hand still sitting on the back of your seat. His knees are spread a little wide, thigh resting against yours.

It’s so innocent but your brain thinks it’s so intimate. A lie. A lie.

In the end, Steve relaxes back, his eyebrows lifting as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. He tosses one of the sticky plastic menus toward Sam, nodding at it.

“Order up, man,” Steve says, his tone more neutral than you think you’ve ever heard it in regards to Sam. “But I���m not paying for yours. You’re on your own.”

At that, Sam laughs, full and robust with his face up to the ceiling. He rocks back in his chair, shaking his head, and he looks so beautiful even in the shitty sub shop that Steve drags you to for lunch every other week that it makes you ache and your lungs contract in an attempt to cough.

You swallow it back again, trying to even out your breathing. The itch in your throat is so bad that you almost pick up your sandwich to eat again, but your hand passes it up to take another few sips of your water. It’s cool, clear, refreshing—but it can’t make the tickle of the cough go away.

“So,” Sam starts once he’s finished ordering his own hoagie, “how’s that apartment hunting going? Found anything good yet?”

A frown forms, heavy, on your lips. You pick off a flaking piece of bread from your sandwich, watching it turn to crumbs underneath your fingers.

“It’s going,” you say, but anyone who ever responds to a question of how’s it going with it’s going is absolutely lying and it is absolutely not going—and maybe Sam knows that, or maybe Steve does, or hell, maybe they both do but it makes you look weak to admit that things aren’t going so well out loud.

And you—you can’t admit the truth, so it’s just better to lie about it.

You don’t want to leave the Tower.

“It’s going, huh?” Sam asks, his tone proving that he can see right through you. “You need help looking at some places or something?”

“Well—”

“You know,” he barrels through your words as if they are nothing, “I think I actually know a realtor around here. Maybe he can get you some leads on rentals or something. I could make some calls for you, honey.”

It’s not supposed to—Sam only means well, he always does, always trying to do so much for people—but it hurts to hear. Because you don’t hear him saying that he’s trying to help you out. You hear him saying he doesn’t want you around the Tower anymore.

Because, well, why would he want you there?

To him, you’re just an outsider. A girl who doesn’t belong. Someone who daydreams and doodles flowers on every surface as soon as she thinks of him. And you always think of him.

Before you can think about it, your hand flies to your mouth reflexively to hold back a cough. Instantly, Sam’s leaning closer and that damned hand of his falls soft against your back.

“You okay?”

There’s barely a moment for you to nod, signaling that you’re fine, before Steve’s got on his game face, all hard lines and furrowed brows and thin lips pressed tightly together.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing Sam’s attention. “She’s allowed to stay as long as she wants, alright? The Tower is her home now, too. So there isn’t a rush for her to find a place unless she wants to leave.”

The passion and care in Steve’s voice is strong, almost so overpowering it’s oppressive, and something rises up from within you and threatens to send salty tears careening down your cheeks if you don’t blink them away.

Sam raises his hands in front of him dramatically. “Okay, okay, I get it. I wasn’t trying to run her off or anything, just wanted to lend a hand if I could. Damn, Steve.”

Something changes at the table, then. It’s like a fog, thick and cloying, falls over the three of you and keeps you lethargic—so much so that the only words spoken in the next few awkward minutes are Sam’s thanks when the waiter brings his sandwich by.

You still haven’t even touched yours, and you hope it seems like you’re just waiting for Sam to get his, because Steve’s tearing into his second and by the looks of the mustard dripping down his fingers messily, he’ll be done any minute now.

But as you prop your head up on the table, leaning on your elbow boredly, Sam nudges his leg into yours to grab your attention. When you turn to look at him, he’s got that grin again, all pearly and white with the little crooked gap you think you could stare at forever as long as it meant he was smiling and laughing and happy.

“You gonna eat, girl?” Sam picks his sub up in his hand and gestures at you to do the same. God, he makes you dizzy just by talking. The butterflies in your belly are fighting tooth and nail against your organs, trying to take up all the space, but they aren’t really butterflies. The soft monsters in your stomach leave a taste on your tongue you can’t explain.

“Oh.” You mimic his movement and then Sam toasts his hoagie against yours with a chuckle.

“First bite,” he says, and there’s no thought in your head or balloon in your stomach and no bloated skin to make you second guess yourself.

You follow Sam, sinking your teeth into the bread of your sandwich, and its flavor explodes over your tongue just enough to take away all the bitter, floral, fragrant taste of the daisies that are building up in your stomach, their petals choking you out, downy fluttering things inside you.

(“Hey girl, it’s me. I couldn’t find you anywhere—where you at? I was coming to see if you wanted to grab a bite with me for lunch, maybe at that little Italian place you like to go to around the corner? Or maybe sushi or something? Been a while since I got to go out for lunch, so I thought I’d ask, but I guess you’re busy right now. I’ll catch you later, darlin’. Enjoy your lunch.”)

—NEW BEGINNINGS—

You’ve got to call him. You have to. You have no choice anymore.

Danny is on the other side of the locked door, his fist pounding on the wood and threatening to cave it in from the repeated force. The sound is louder than it should be, really, echoing off the tile of the bathroom you’ve barricaded yourself inside. He’s shouting above the sound.

“You fucking bitch. I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna fucking kill you. You lied to me? What else are you lying about, huh? You fucking whore. I took you in, I gave you a home, I gave you everything. Fucking fat slut—how many other guys are you sleeping with, huh?”

None, you had answered earlier when he was questioning you in your shared bedroom, his fist tight around your soft arm and squeezing so hard it made you want to scream. None.

But that wasn’t the answer Danny was looking for. And, well, once he threw you onto the ground and stomped to the dresser, clothes strewn around the room as he furiously ripped through it until he found the shiny black firearm you didn’t know he had, you were gone.

But there was only one place to go and that was the bathroom.

Now, trapped inside, you know you have no choice. You have to call him—the man from the coffee shop you’ve been going to regularly for a few months. The man who noticed the bruises Danny always left on you after a rough night. The man who pressed and pried and tried to do anything to get you to open up to him even as you refused over and over again. The man who put his number in your phone because he wanted you to call him if you ever needed him, not because he was a hero, but because he was worried about you.

You press the number two on speed dial. The phone rings.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Steve?” Your voice is nothing but a sob. “Steve, you were right.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, but you hear the rustle of clothes and a jingle of keys on the other side beyond the static, a sound that makes you almost cry with relief or hope or maybe just stress.

“Hold on,” he tells you. “FRIDAY is pulling up your address. I’ll be there as quick as I can. Are you safe?”

“Bathroom,” you’re able to mumble out from behind the waterfall of tears rushing down your face. “He’s locked out but—but I’m scared.”

“I’m on my way. He’s not going to hurt you. I promise you.”

And then Steve hangs up, and you wish he hadn’t because now you’re left all alone with just a flimsy wooden door, painted fucking white so the blood will show up real pretty when Danny kills you, between you and your boyfriend.

Well, ex-boyfriend if you get out of here alive.

“Four fucking years!” he shouts from outside. “I gave you four fucking years of my life, you stupid bitch. I put up with your dumb fat ass for four years and this is what you do? Is this love? Do you think this is love?”

You figure anything is love as long as it doesn’t look like this. The ring of bruises around your upper arm from Danny’s grasp is already turning black and blue, a sight that makes you flinch.

Honestly, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours. All the cash you were stashing should’ve been hidden better. You knew better. A shoebox up on the top shelf of the closet? Amateur. You should’ve cut a section out of one of your prized books or something. Danny never fucking reads. He probably doesn’t know how. He would’ve never found all the money if you’d stashed it there.

“Six thousand dollars!” he roars, punching the center of the door. The wood bends slightly. “How long’ve you been fucking stealing from me, huh? Fucking bitch. Stupid fucking bitch.”

And then it happens.

Danny’s fist breaks through the first layer of the door with a curse of pain falling from his lips. Then, a laugh. He’s laughing.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

He punches the door again and then his hand is through, wood splinters shattering and flying toward you, and with a scream you shield your face with your arms and duck down. You’re sitting beside the bathtub, squished against the toilet, and you scoot back as far as you can trying to wedge yourself to safety.

But there is no safety here. Danny’s bloodied fingers find the doorknob and unlock it with a click, and it’s over. It’s over. It’s fucking over.

With a kick, the door comes flying open and you’re screaming again at the top of your lungs, throat tearing itself raw. Danny’s broad frame possesses the entire room as he shoulders his way inside, his lips pulled back to show all of his teeth in a feral grin, the overhead lights catching the shine of the sleek gun he’s carrying.

You can’t even look at him. All you can do is stare at his back in the bathroom mirror hanging over the counter, your mind completely devoid of thought.

“Fuckin’ dead,” Danny says, and you don’t see him aim the gun at you. You stare in the mirror, right in the mirror and memorize the pattern of the plaid jacket he’s wearing, how the colored stripes form new colors, how the fabric all blends. It’s a pretty shirt. You bought it for him two Christmasses ago. He looks good in it.

You are going to die.

Then, suddenly, you can’t see the plaid anymore. Instead it’s a gray shirt on a much bigger body blocking out the mirror, and when you turn your head to look, Steve’s there.

Steve’s here.

He’s got Danny in a chokehold, grappling for the pistol in your boyfriend’s hand. Ex-boyfriend. Despite Steve being completely unarmed—he’s Captain America for christ’s sake, a goddamn super soldier, he doesn’t need a fucking weapon—he easily brings Danny down to his knees and onto the floor, kicking the gun away from their bodies and out of the bathroom completely.

“Fucking whore,” Danny manages to spit out, the sound strangled as Steve’s arm buckles over his neck. “You’re fucking him too, huh? I’m gonna kill you.”

“Shut up,” Steve grits through his clenched teeth, pulling Danny toward the destroyed door. “You’re done.”

They disappear from the bathroom in a tangle and thrashing of limbs. Danny curses the whole way down the stairs, struggling to break out of Steve’s grasp you presume. He’s a fighter—that’s what he always said. Dog meets dog eats dog world, he would tell you. You can’t ever trust anyone.

And, well, he certainly proved his beliefs. You had the bruises to show for it. The scars as evidence.

Sitting alone in your wrecked bathroom, still sprawled out on the tile, you stare down at your hands. The lines run deep in your palms, fingers stubby and chubby and not at all feminine. Too small to grab Danny the way he always grabbed you. Too soft with fat to deliver a good punch.

You don’t know how much time passes before a much larger hand enters your vision, slowly, like approaching a kicked mutt on the street, and when you don’t flinch, Steve lays his fingers across your palms. Apprehensively, you grab onto his hand, and he squeezes back.

Looking up, he’s crouched in front of you, the beginnings of a bruise forming on his left temple. With your free hand, you reach out and let your fingers brush over it, but Steve just smiles at you.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs.

“Where?”

“Anywhere but here,” he says, gently tugging on your hand. You hold onto him a little tighter and let him help you up off the ground, his arm immediately sliding around your waist to steady your shaky legs.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” you say. “The money I saved…”

You don’t even know what happened to it. For all you know, Danny burned the cash. Or stashed it somewhere else.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Steve says in a soft voice. “I’m taking you back to the Tower. The police are dealing with Danny right now. Can you help me pack some clothes for you?”

And so you sat on the bed among your wrecked bedroom as Steve picked through the messy drawers that had been pulled from their dresser, some articles of clothing crumpled on the floor where Danny flung them in his mad search for your secret money stash. And the gun. You almost forgot about the gun.

Steve helps you pack, his face only a little pinker than normal when you’re shoving your intimates into the black duffle bag he fished out of his car, and then he’s helping you slip on your sneakers and guiding you out of your house.

You don’t say goodbye to it, though. That house. Even after four years, you don’t call it home. In a lot of ways, you’re happy to watch it disappear from Steve’s rearview mirror, hoping you’ll never be back.

“They’re going to love you there,” he says quietly in the silence of the car, both hands tight around the steering wheel. He glances over at you, then back at the road. “You’ll fit right in. You’ll be safe. Right at home.”

But you think Steve is a bit of an optimist. Homes, you think, are for people who are loved.

(“Hey honey, just me here. Look, I remembered you saying something about how you wanted those, what were they called, the fairy lights for your room? The ones that look like Christmas lights? I thought we could go pick some up and I’ll hang ‘em up. You’re too short to do it yourself, girl, you know that. Anyway, give me a call if you want to, or just come down to my room and get me, anytime. I’ll be waiting. Talk soon, honey.”)

—KEEPING SECRETS—

Wanda hums a tune under her breath. “I just can’t wait to get out of this place! It’s been too long. Mission after mission after bloody mission.” She sighs and starts to apply a thick coat of mascara, eyes wide as she stares in the mirror.

“Agreed,” Natasha says from somewhere behind you. The sound of her bare feet on the bathroom tile is the only warning you have before she sidles up beside you, gracefully lifting herself up onto the counter and sweeping various cosmetics aside to make room.

You’re still undressed, standing in your panties and an old t-shirt with a stretched out neck, just finishing up your eyeshadow when Nat taps a black bottle on the marble top near your fingers.

“Want me to do your eyeliner?” she asks.

A few months ago, you would have seen it as an insult—a beautiful, dangerous woman telling you in less words that your makeup looked like shit. Now you know it’s an expression of Natasha’s unending love for you. A willing act of service. A small thing she can do for you.

“Yes please.”

Natasha motions you forward, between her legs, and when she takes your face in her hand you close your eyes.

“Pretty colors,” she says, probably about your eyeshadow.

“Thanks,” you reply, and then you feel the cool wetness of liquid liner right on your lash line as she begins to paint a wing on your lid. “You always look pretty.”

“So do you.” She blows softly on your left eye. “It’s like you never need makeup, I swear. Are you even wearing foundation?”

A smile works its way onto your face. “Nope.”

From beside you, Wanda giggles.

“Slut. You’re so perfect it makes me want to scream sometimes,” Natasha says, tongue clicking her teeth as she finishes off your right eye.

All the breath seems to leave you in that moment. Like someone punched you straight in your gut, your bones like the gel shock-absorbing layer protecting your organs. Your eyes want nothing more than to shoot open, but Nat is blowing cool air over the newly formed wing and you force yourself to relax so you don’t mess everything up.

“I’m not perfect,” you tell her. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

“Don’t deflect.” You hear her cap the eye liner and set it down on the counter, then her palms engulf your cheeks. Slowly, you let your eyes open, blinking gently.

She’s staring at you, eyes narrowed.

“Just because I’m beautiful doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful,” she says, simply, as if it’s just easy for her to not compare herself to anyone else. “If you’re perfect, you’re perfect. Doesn’t matter if I’m perfect, too. And that Wanda is perfect. Or that anyone is perfect.”

Natasha takes your chin in her fingers and grabs a tube of lipstick—the one she and Wanda always tell you to wear because it looks so damn good on you.

“Your beauty and your worth doesn’t come from other people.” She runs the silken rouge over your lips. “It comes from who you are, not comparisons to other people.”

And, god, you want to scream at her. You want to shout and tell her that she isn’t allowed to say that to you when she looks the way she does—slim and picturesque and every human being’s wet dream. She doesn’t get to say that you shouldn’t compare yourself, with your heavy chest and your wide hips and all your soft pockets of skin, to someone like her. To someone like Wanda. To anyone else that doesn’t need liposuction with a side of diet pills, please.

You can’t be perfect, because if you were perfect, if you were enough, you wouldn’t be dying in agony every night over someone that doesn’t look twice at your too-large stomach and your too-large thighs.

They’re just trying to make you feel better, but all it does is make you feel worse.

“Look,” you say when she’s done with your lipstick, “I get what—”

In a split second, your chest is wracked with hard coughs, lungs struggling for air. It’s choking you, your own insides, and you’re hacking and wheezing and grasping at the bathroom counter and Natasha’s hands are on your shoulders and Wanda is slapping your back in hope that it will help and someone, somewhere, is saying the word heimlich and you can taste it on your tongue like old wallpaper from the 70s, floral and disgusting and toxic and ugly.

You throw your arm over your mouth, smearing your lipstick. It doesn’t help. Natasha is looking at you, eyes wild. You’re coughing and coughing and you think you taste blood underneath the overwhelming velvet on your tongue.

They’re saying your name. Shredded petals are between your teeth.

And then you break, pushing past them to the toilet, skidding on your knees until you’re doubled over and retching. It’s all burning acid and fresh flowers. Rot and fester and earth and greenery. A pair of cool hands—Wanda’s, you think—rest upon your forehead and move your hair away from your face.

Vomit and daisies leak from your mouth until your stomach is done contracting and your insides are empty. All that’s left is your sputtering coughs that taste caustic and beautiful.

It’s getting bad.

When you finally pull away from the toilet, slumped back and wiping your mouth, the toilet is full of an explosion of crisp white and bright yellow, tinged with the faint pink of blood. Wanda is glancing back and forth between you and the unflushed toilet, horror stitched on her face.

Before Natasha approaches, a glass of tap water in hand, you lean over and flush the petals down the drain. The look you shoot Wanda is pleading, but you don’t even know what you’re asking for.

Everything on the inside hurts, burning like a pit of snakes in your belly, hissing and spitting venom and biting into you like they mean to kill you. Perhaps the daisies have grown fangs. Your lungs feel chewed.

Nat places the glass in your shaking hands, her fingers holding your own as if she knows you can’t do it yourself. She helps raise the glass to your soiled lips and you gulp the water down like it’ll flood the valley unfolding in you.

“Who is it?” she asks, her voice calm but her eyes uneasy. You nearly choke, a hand pressing against the middle of your chest as if you need to feel your lungs as they work to assure yourself of your own survival.

“What?” you barely eke out, throat thick and scratchy. One of Wanda’s hands strokes down your back and she doesn’t speak, only shakes her head.

“Who is it?” Natasha repeats.

You look away.

“God.” Wanda sniffles behind you. “How could we not have realized?”

“Because it doesn’t happen,” Nat says, shifting from crouching in front of you to sitting on her knees on the floor, a hand resting on your thigh. “I’ve never known a single person—until now, I guess—who had it. I thought it wasn’t real.”

“They tell it like a fairytale in Sokovia,” Wanda says, her words just as watery as her eyes. “A story you lull children to sleep with! But I should have seen it. We should have seen it.”

A new abundance of petals tickle the back of your throat.

“All that art,” Natasha hisses, but she isn’t looking at you. She’s glaring down at her lap.

“All the daisies,” Wanda cries. Her head drops against your shoulder. You feel the wetness of her tears.

“It’s okay,” you tell them, but your voice is too small. “It’s okay,” you say, louder this time, tasting the flowers like they are the blood of your bitten tongue.

“Who is it?” Natasha asks again, a begging in her voice you don’t think you’ve ever heard before.

“It’s okay,” you say again.

And with this, Nat’s face changes from one of concern to something of realization—like she’s been struck with a thought she never considered, like she’s seen the future.

“It’s him.” Her jaw is slack, staring at you even as Wanda looks at her with confusion etched on her visage. “You have to tell him.”

“No,” you say simply.

“This is bad,” Nat snaps, as if you don’t know it already. “This is getting bad. You need to tell him or you’re—you’re going to die.”

A laugh breaks through the bathroom, echoing. “How can I tell him? How could I ever tell him that I love him when the simple fucking fact that these flowers are growing—rooting—in my goddamn lungs is proof that he doesn’t love me the way that I love him?”

You lean back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

“Sam Wilson doesn’t love me the way I love him,” you whisper.

The tips of Natasha’s fingers catch the tears you don’t feel streaking down your cheeks like the screaming of shooting stars, hot and bright and dying.

“It’s sort of beautiful, don’t you think?” Your nails dig into the fat flesh of your thighs, trying to puncture skin. “To make art of your own death. To make something lovely out of something so tragic.”

You can’t swallow it back this time. A cough wracks through you, jostling your bones, and you fold yourself in half as soft white petals emerge from your esophagus and choke you. You grind them against the backs of your teeth with your tongue, trying to mash them into nonexistence, but it’s not enough. You retch another wave of daisies into your awaiting hands.

Wanda calls your name and it sounds broken.

“Death like this,” you rasp, catching your breath, “is the most beautiful way to go.”

Your finger drags over one of the downy petals, a bead of blood catching on your skin and smearing across it like a brushstroke of paint, ruining it.

“Death like this is the only way I want to go.”

(“Hey beautiful, it’s me again. I heard you were going out with the girls tonight—I hope you have fun. I just wanted you to know that if you need a ride back home, or you get into trouble and need a hero, or anything, really, I’m just a phone call away. You need me and I’ll be there, ‘kay honey? I’ll be up if you need anything, at least ‘till you get home. Have fun, girl.”)

—INNOCENCE—

You’re beginning to ask yourself if the mirror lies.

It doesn’t. You know that. You’ve been trying to find the lies in it for years at this point, pinching and pulling at all the places you find are thicker than the women you see on TV, the women you see floating around the Tower, the women you’ve seen on the arms of Sam Wilson. Chubby hands caress down your soft belly, poking and prodding the skin you wish you could make disappear. The mirror never lies.

But you wish it did when you stare at yourself and all you see are the bruises beneath your eyes, the hollows in your cheeks, the drained look in your gaze. The longer you stand there, the less you recognize yourself.

You aren’t hungry anymore. You never get hungry—the flowers filling up all the space in your stomach, coughed up from your lungs and swallowed back in pieces. Perfume is what your mouth tastes like now. Perfume and iron. The vomiting hasn’t stopped since the night your secret was revealed to Natasha and Wanda.

And you’ve never looked better.

That’s the part you hate. The part where when you look in the mirror and you can see the places where those daisies have shaved you thinner. It almost makes you laugh. People say you pack on the pounds when you find love. Maybe they should try having toxic flowers take root inside of them and slowly steal their lifeforce while they watch the person they love never love them back.

It’s a slow process, this death. You wonder which will kill you first—the starvation or the suffocation.

The walk down to the gala is as equally exciting as it is dreadful. You’ve never been to a Tony Stark gala before and you’re eager to dance the night away with your friends. But you’re also exhausted.

Oh well. The makeup helps you look less like a corpse and more like a dancing queen. The dress, which you’re sure someone paid far too much money for, is part of the solution. It’s all flowy and gorgeous as if you are a Greek goddess meant to be worshipped and highlights your figure while hiding all the imperfections the mirror seemed to find.

And when you finally enter the room, classical music playing from the live band and people laughing loudly and champagne twirling about the floor for people to take, the first thing you see is him.

Grin taking up his entire face, lighting up the entire ballroom, dressed beautifully in a navy suit that makes him look utterly dashing, is Sam Wilson.

He’s surrounded by people—women who are better dressed than you are—so with a shaky breath and a pain in your lungs, you quickly turn on your heel and head toward the next familiar face.

“Woah there, doll, where you hurryin’ off to?” Bucky, hair neatly pulled back and wearing a black suit, grabs you by your waist.

“Nowhere,” you blurt. “The bar. I just got here.”

He raises a thick brow at you, a silent question, but when you choose not to answer he shrugs.

“Well I can’t refuse to escort a pretty lady, can I?” With a charming smile, he holds his elbow out to you and gestures for you to grab on. You slip your hand around his arm and grasp him tightly, shooting him a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Bucky.”

But as the two of you start dodging through the crowd of excited party-goers, on your way to the bar in the back, Bucky stops short and gets a look on his face that you’re not quite sure you can describe as mischievous, but it’s close enough to make you frown.

“Y’know what,” he says, glancing over at you with that boyish grin, “I think we should take a spin on the dance floor instead.”

“Oh no,” you tell him, eyes wide. “I can’t dance—”

He snorts. “I’ve seen you dance around the kitchen, doll.”

“I can’t dance in front of all these people.”

“Can’t is a word for losers.” Bucky closes his hand over yours, locking you to his elbow. “Don’t wanna be a loser like Stevie, do ya? Oh Buck, I can’t stop fighting, gotta teach ‘em a lesson. Oh Buck, I can’t rinse out my cereal bowl, I gotta go for a run.”

It makes you laugh, maybe a little too loud, but it eases you just enough for Bucky to pull you into the menagerie of dancing couples, and then he’s moving your hand from his arm and onto his shoulder and clasping your other in his fingers.

“There we go.” His eyes shine like the ocean sparkles under the Tower lights.

Bucky has something magic in him, you decide, after two songs of him swinging you along the floor. He has something magic that makes everything so easy, which is something so admirable after all he’s been through. He has you laughing and smiling and spinning across the room with so little effort you forget all your worries in an instant.

“See?” Bucky dips you in his arms, making you squeal with glee, collecting the stares of the people peppered around the room. “Knew you could dance, doll.”

Panting, you rest a hand on his chest, still giggling. “Only ‘cause you’re so good.”

“Song’s over, Buck,” a new, familiar voice cuts in. When you look up, Steve is standing there, eyes crinkling with his own smile. “I can’t wait for another.”

At that, Bucky rolls his eyes with such drama it has you laughing yet again.

“See? I told you. It’s all can’t this, can’t thatwith Stevie. But fine.” Bucky guides you by the waist over to Steve, passing your hand over, and then gives you one last grin with all his teeth. “I had fun, doll. Thanks for dancin’ with me.”

“Anytime,” you tell him, and then Steve’s adjusting your grip on him. The song changes from the upbeat tune Bucky was twirling you to down to a slower classical piece.

“You doing okay, sweetheart?” Steve asks, his eyes roaming over your face.

“Yeah,” you hum. “Bucky and I had a lot of fun.”

Steve’s grip at your waist tightens a little. “No, I mean in general. Are you doing alright?”

There’s worry there—in the wrinkles on his brow, the blue skies of his eyes, the curve of his lips. You know he’s staring at you and seeing everything the mirror told you. All the gaunt places. The hollow, haunted look you’re parading around. The weight you’ve been steadily losing. You know he sees it.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, and you wonder yet again if the mirror ever lies. You know you do.

Steve sways you gently, more carefully than Bucky had. Steve dances with you like you’re made of something fragile. You still don’t understand why. You don’t know why he ever looked at you and saw something important, someone to protect. Maybe it’s just how he was born to be.

“You can tell me anything,” he says, so seriously that your heart breaks a little.

You move your hand from his shoulder and up to cradle his cheek, smiling.

“I know, Steve. I know.”

And if he pulls you into him, crushes you against his chest, and holds you like that for the rest of the song, no one mentions it. Steve lets you rest your head on his shoulder and, not for the first time, you think this must be how it feels to have a family.

But then the lights in the ballroom brighten a little and a spark finds its way into the music, changing into something jazzy and fun, and someone slaps Steve on the shoulder.

“Alright Rogers, she’s ours now.”

There, dressed like she could kill a man with her heels alone, Natasha has her arms crossed over her black satin gown. Beside her, in a red, flowy dress, Wanda has her hands on Nat’s shoulders, giggling from all the bubbly you’re sure she’s consumed.

Steve pulls away from you with a chuckle, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright—she’s all yours, ladies.”

With that, Natasha pounces on you, and the three of you start to shimmy the night away together.

You lose count of the songs you spend dancing with them, sweaty and out of breath and having the time of your life, before you wave them off and step out onto the outside patio where hardly anyone is loitering. You pass up a couple sitting on a bench, cuddled up in the cool air of New York, and leave a man smoking a cigarette to himself.

Instead, you find a lonely bench far away enough from the gala that you can hardly hear anything but the bass strings resounding through the building. There, you sit, and turn your head up to the stars you can’t really see anymore.

“You okay, girl?”

Startled, you whirl around to face the object of your affections, standing behind you with his hands shoved casually in his pockets. He isn’t wearing his usual smile. Just staring.

And then you taste dirt. Freshly upturned soil coated in congealing blood. You cough into your hands and hear him approach, laying a warm palm on your back as you choke the daisies down and down and down, swallowing as many as you can, the pungent taste still ripe in your mouth.

“Honey,” he calls out all smooth and sharp like whiskey. “Honey, are you okay?”

You lick the blood from your lips. Sam crouches before you, gathering your cold hands in his, looking up at you with such a fucking expression that you want to kiss him so solidly he can taste the vines growing up your throat. You want his tongue to taste the soil of your suffering—the flowers of your own doom.

“I’m worried about you,” Sam says, his dark eyes searching your face for something.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, just as you’ve been telling everyone.

“You’re not looking so good these days,” he murmurs, and you recoil.

“Wow.” The hurt in your voice is so palpable it makes you cringe. “Thanks, Samuel.”

You move to get up from the bench, heart twisting, but Sam grabs your arms and cages you there.

“I didn’t mean it like that, darlin’, you know better than that.” He gives your arms—too soft too wide too fleshy too—a squeeze of reassurance. “You’re not painting much anymore either. You think I wouldn’t notice?”

Sam holds your gaze until it’s too much and you have to break away.

“C’mon, girl. Are you even sleeping?” Sam shakes you a little. “Eating?”

The flowers of evil root in your chest. See, you know how this book ends. You don’t need to read the last page to find out. It’s just as Baudelaire wrote, you know: “My heart is lost; the beasts have eaten it.”

Your organs have been replaced by daisies. Sam Wilson won’t love you—not tonight, not tomorrow, and not in time.

So you shrug, forcing your lips to curl into what you think might be a smile.

“I can’t paint. I’ve got too many flowers to press,” you tell him. Sam’s visage morphs into confusion, and he shakes his head slightly. He doesn’t understand. He won’t understand.

You take his arms from your body, holding his hands for a split second, long enough to steal their warmth and imagine what it would be like to hold them every single day, and then you pick yourself up off the bench and give him a wave.

“See you inside, Sam.”

And you leave him there, confusion still frozen on his face, the gritty blood ripping shreds in your damaged throat as you swallow it again and again and again in an attempt not to taste it anymore.

(“Hey, uh, it’s Sam. I was just calling to, uh, y’know, remind you about the gala. You have a date yet? I didn't ask anyone. I, uh, I wanted to ask this girl, but uh, I ended up waiting too long and I’m a little late so… I’ll see you there, honey. Try not to kill me with your good looks tonight, you hear? Save a dance for me, baby.”)

—THE SUN AND ALL ITS STARS—

Dishware rattles into your room, signaling Nat’s arrival. By the time you gather the energy to sit up in bed, she’s already entering, a tray of food in her hands and an icy look on her face.

“Breakfast in bed,” she says monotonously.

You shift and pull your duvet up as she fits the tray over your lap. There’s not much—a sweating glass of cold water beside an amber glass of apple juice, two slices of buttered toast, and some melon she cut up.

“Thanks,” you say, voice strained and weak.

Natasha doesn’t leave, but you wish she would. She seats herself on the edge of your bed, staring you down as you sip on your water. You purse your lips in frustration, but pick up the fork and begin to poke at the fruit.

“Eat,” she says.

“I’m trying,” you grumble back. “Stop staring at me.”

Natasha throws her hands up on the air. “Well if I don’t watch you, you’ll just sit here and waste away,” she snaps. “You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping, hell, you aren’t even coming out of your room anymore. You go to work, you come home, you don’t talk to any of us. Steve says—”

“Steve doesn’t know anything!” you shout, interrupting her. As soon as you do, her eyes narrow into slits and you shut your mouth, gulping. That wasn’t what you wanted to do.

Natasha takes a deep breath. “Steve says you’re still looking for a place.” It’s eerie how calm she keeps her tone. “Leaving isn’t going to stop them, you know.”

Even now, not doing anything but staring at the food in your lap, you can taste them like a funeral home, saccharinely floral, covering the smell of death.

“I can’t stay here,” you say.

“You’re dying,” Natasha stresses. “Please. Please, I am begging, krasavitsa. I’ve not begged for much in this life. But I am begging you to please, please tell him. Tell him or consider the other option.”

Two options in the scale, tipping weights. To die or to have the roots of true love carved out of your lungs, peeled away from where they wrap around your heart.

You stab your fork into the tender flesh of the melon. It gives way so easily, letting the tines puncture it. Natasha stares at you, her gaze heavy. Your fingers fumble with the fork and it falls, clattering, to the tray of dishes.

The blood is too hard to swallow anymore—it builds up in your mouth and stains your teeth red, the petals colored pink when they fall from your lips.

“Okay,” you whisper. Maybe you don’t even say it aloud.

“Okay?” Natasha asks. You nod your head, not looking at her.

“I’ll tell him.”

It takes you hours, it feels like, to gather the courage. With all the energy you have left in your bones, muscles only satiated a little by Natasha’s breakfast, you drag yourself out of bed and to your bookshelf. It’s memorized, the place where your book sits, and you pull it out with a gentle tug of your finger.

The Flowers of Evil, its pages nearly chock-full of pressed daisies that have ejected themselves from your body, eager to find the man you love and spill all your desires to him. You thumb through it, gaze flitting over all the damn flowers that have dried in this damn book, and you close your eyes in order not to cry this time.

You press the book tight to your chest, feeling the desperate beating of your heart echo through it, and you head to Sam’s room.

The walk is long and lonely—the Tower feels empty. Devoid of people. You’re a little glad because you’re sure that anyone could see the sickness painted on your body, the illness from inside you that’s staining your outsides. It’s not anyone’s fault but your own, really. The flowers are too beautiful to supplant.

And now, you’re in front of his door, a fist raised to knock, a loud buzzing in your head that keeps saying no, no, no. But your heart, traitorous thing still hammering away in your chest, it just keeps saying yes, yes, yes, finally.

Sam Wilson doesn’t love you.

But do you have any other choice except to take a garden spade to your lungs and dig them out of your chest cavity, to destroy your ribcage and break through the mulch that makes up your nervous system? Is the only option left to die at the hands of Sam or to wither away until your decomposition will feed the very things that killed you off?

You shudder a breath and knock on the door. And you wait. And wait. And wait.

He doesn’t come. He isn’t there. He doesn’t love you.

The tears come suddenly—unexpectedly. They are hot and stricken and fast. They drip off your chin and careen down your neck and dampen the collar of your shirt and your hands are trembling, grasping your book too tightly, to even begin to wipe them away.

You don’t know why you’re crying. You already know this. Sam Wilson could never love you the way that you love him. Sam Wilson is perfection, you know. He possesses the strength of gods, he radiates love, he’s passionate about every fucking thing he does. He’s beautiful. He’s everything and you are nothing when standing next to him, but you love him. You love him.

Sam Wilson doesn’t fucking love you.

“Well,” you laugh to yourself, “I can either die a fool or live a life without you.”

I can either die in love or live my life not knowing what it feels like to be in love with you.

Something tickles your tongue. You reach between your lips and pluck it from your mouth, letting it sit upon the center of your palm. Blood drips down your arm like a river, violent and sooth.

The daisy covers your entire hand, white petals tinged with pink reaching toward your fingers. The center, all yellow florets seeming to seek out warmth, are so bright and full and so big—these are too big, they could choke anyone, anyone, they are choking you.

And like them—god, just like them, just like these daisies that grow from your lungs and destroy you from inside out—you are heliotropic. Everywhere you go, you’re focused on the sun, looking for the sun, stretching toward the sun.

You need the sun.

So you crumble the daisy in your hand, fist tight, blood still easing from between your fingers. You back away from his door, then turn and break away to head back to your room in silence.

You’d rather die loving him than never getting to see the sun ever again.

(“Hey girl, it’s me. Just calling to let you know that Steve and I got called for a mission. It looks like an emergency, wheels up in ten and all that. I wanted to catch you before we gotta go, in case you wanted to say goodbye. To Steve, I mean. Just in case. Take care of yourself while I’m gone, sweetness.”)

—FAREWELLS—

It happens faster than you think it will. You swear you have weeks, or a month at least. You swear you have time.

Four days later, your knees buckle and slam into the wooden floor beneath you, stomach contorting and contracting, balloon finally bursting. Someone is shouting your name from the common room, something is knocked over, scrambling. You barely hear it over the sound of your own vomiting.

On your hands and knees, you stare down at the lump of flowers you couldn’t swallow back. They’re coated in a mixture of soil and blood and stomach acid, but the sweet perfume scent breaks through the rest and makes you retch again. It smells so sweet. So sickly sweet. Dead people and churches.

Did churches always smell so much like blood?

There’s a hand on your shoulder. It’s pulling your hair from your face. Someone is saying something—something—something you can’t make out over the blood rushing between your ears.

You’re dying. This is it.

You collapse upon the ground, rolling onto your side, arm thrown over your mouth as if that will stop the flowers from pouring out of your body. And when you blink, trying to see through the dizziness, it’s him again.

The god of the fucking sun, your sun, mouth moving frantically as he says things you can’t hear and the little gap in his teeth that makes you feel at home when he smiles at you and his eyes, oh, Sam Wilson has eyes that set you on fire and burn you alive and you’d be happy to die like this, you’re so happy you get to die like this, so thankful that the daisies chose you, so thankful you chose him.

You were right. Death is so beautiful like this.

“It might be too late.”

Helen Cho’s heels clack on the tile of the medbay’s room as she shoos the nurse out with a wave of her hands, shaking her head. He shoots to his feet, fingers already curled into fists, and he shoves them in the pockets of his jacket to hide them.

“Too late?” It’s impossible for him to keep his voice low. “How can it be too late? What even—What’s wrong with her?”

She frowns at Sam, folding her hands together in front of her.

“It’s… rare,” she says. “Some of us didn’t think it was real, to be frank with you.”

His brow furrows. “What is it?”

“A disease caused by unrequited love,” Helen says plainly, staring straight at him. “Typically, the patient finds themselves in what is regarded to be true love, but the feelings are not returned, so they build up. It’s theorized that the stress of that creates the problem.”

Sam swallows and it tastes like vomit. “Unrequited love?”

She ignores him, continuing, “The part that is normally so hard to believe is that flowers begin to grow inside the patient, the roots puncturing their lungs and creating masses that eventually will suffocate their host.”

It’s a bag of bricks to his stomach. A super soldier punch to the gut. A bomb blown up in his face. Sam doubles over, clutching his middle, trying to breathe again. He can’t breathe at all. The flowers. The flowers.

“It seems she was swallowing them in an attempt to save herself,” Helen explains. “It’s what kept her alive much longer than she should have been. But now, I don’t know. It may be too late to save her. If she’d just said something earlier, than the surgery might have been able to stop it, but—”

“Surgery?” Sam asks, still gasping for breath. “What surgery?”

“You can extract the roots,” she tells him, glancing at the sleeping woman in the sickbed. “It’s a difficult procedure but it would have saved her. But, from the very little research we have on it, removing the roots also removes the feelings entirely. The love that the patient has disappears. They aren’t able to ever feel anything for that person ever again.”

He falls back into the plastic chair, his limbs numb. Or, at least that’s what he wants to do. But Sam doesn’t. He steadies himself, crosses his arms over his chest, plants himself so firmly there in the hospital room that he doesn’t think an earthquake can move him, and looks at her.

She’s sleeping, but she doesn’t look at peace. Her eyes, lovely things, are sunken in and it makes him so mad. Her collarbones have shadows beneath them and he feels fury wracking his own bones. And how long has it been since he’s seen her smile?

“Do the surgery,” he demands.

“You know I can’t do that without her consent,” Helen says, sighing.

“Then I’ll wait until she wakes up and get her consent,” he seethes through a locked jaw.

Helen’s face doesn’t change. “She might not wake up.”

“She will.”

Sam doesn’t get it. He understands—in a way—but he doesn’t really get it. He knows why she wouldn’t want to get a surgery like that. But he loves—he loves just as fiercely as she does, and that’s why he understands. Why he knows.

So why did the flowers pick her? Why would they pick her and not him?

Helen glances down at her feet, says nothing, and turns to exit the room. He’s left there in the silence, with the crowing of the machine keeping her alive to punctuate all his thoughts. If there is one thing he hates in the world, it’s feeling helpless.

He lowers himself in the plastic seat, leans his head back against the wall, and closes his eyes.

“You’ll wake up,” he says to her, but he can’t look at her.

Or maybe he’ll wake up and it’ll all be a dream.

There’s a soft rapping of knuckles on the door, and it opens slowly and quietly, and Sam has to lock his fingers around the arms of his chair to keep from jumping up and sending a right hook right at Steve’s face.

“How’s she doing?” Steve has the audacity to ask, has the audacity to look worried, has the audacity to pull up another plastic seat next to Sam.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mutters under his breath, spite burning his tongue.

Steve glares at him. “Yeah, that’s why I asked. What’s your problem?”

“My problem is you, Rogers.” Now, Sam can’t help but stand, towering over the super soldier. He immediately grabs Steve’s arm and hauls him out of his chair, through the door, and out into the hallway. Steve stumbles, a hand on the wall, and Sam’s nostrils flare.

“How could you do this to her?”

“Me?” Steve sounds genuinely taken aback, but Sam doesn’t buy it. “What are you talking about? Helen told me—”

“I thought you loved her, too!”

He really did. That’s why Steve brought her to the Tower, didn’t he? That’s why they go out for lunch every other week and why Sam never gets a chance to take her out himself. Why he always makes sure to say goodbye to her before a mission, like he doesn’t want to leave her behind. He really thought Steve loved her too. If he had thought for one second that Steve didn’t love her...

“What?” Steve’s jaw slackens. “Not like that! She doesn’t—She’s not in love with me, Sam!”

He pants, unable to catch the breath that’s leaving him like a slow leak.

“Then who the hell is she in love with?”

Steve stares at him, a look that Sam can’t recognize, can’t name, in his eyes. Steve stares at him and smooths his hand down his beard, shaking his head.

“She’s in love with you,” he says, and Sam chokes.

Because all the pretty things in his world lead back to her and man, if she loved him, it would all be so perfect that he would never want to leave it. He would never want to say goodbye. He’d ask god and anyone else who would listen to grant him a deathless life so he could look at her forever, with no end in sight, because he would. He would. Sam would love her forever.

“No,” he says, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. “That can’t be true.”

“It’s true,” Steve says.

“That’s impossible.” He backs up, against the wall, holding his head in his hands and staring at the floor. “It’s impossible.”

“It’s true,” Steve repeats, staring past Sam and through the window of the medbay’s room to look at her, lying so still in her bed. “I know it is.”

“Steve, I’m in love with her,” Sam confesses, an ache in his chest. “It can’t be me. I’m in love with her. I’m so fucking in love with her.”

A heavy hand clasps his shoulder, and when Sam looks up, his breathing unsteady, Steve has a look of regret smeared all over his face.

“But does she know that?”

And, for the first time in years, Sam cries.

(“It’s me. I need to tell you something. Even if it will hurt, even if it will destroy—destroy what we have, I don’t know. But I need to tell you, baby. I need to.”)

—SINCERITY—

Sam Wilson thinks she’s starlight.

When she first arrives she’s a collection of stars and their ashes, explosions and deaths, supernovas and black holes and earthbound meteorites.

What he means by that is she’s covered in bruises but she’s so beautiful, and he wants to gather her in his arms and tell her it’s going to be okay.

Steve introduces her, and Sam tries to bite his tongue, but all his words pour out of him anyway as she holds out a hand to him and he takes it, soft and trembling, and he knows she’s special somehow. She’s special.

“You’re the prettiest thing I think I’ve ever seen,” he says, and he means it, but she ducks her head and tries to hide the little smile on her face.

Sam Wilson thinks the world of you. But even when the bruises fade, you’re still left with all the land and the water and the galaxies hidden in your eyes when he catches your gaze, and he looks at you and he swears that you’re reaching into his chest and taking his heart in your small hands and squeezing him dry. You have realms inside of you, he’s sure, all the worlds and all their wonders. But you—you look at Steve like that sometimes, and then Sam is just grateful that you even let him breathe in your general atmosphere.

He can fly, sure, but he certainly isn’t an astronaut, so this is about the closest he can get to you.

(“Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. This number is not available. At the tone, please record your message.”)

—TRUE LOVE—

The first thing you see is the ceiling, hazy and sleep-filtered, but it looks just like the ceiling in that bathroom, back in Danny’s apartment, back when you thought the pain of love was bone crushing, before you knew the pain of love was slow suffocation.

It makes you stutter back to life and that sends you into a coughing fit. You can still taste them—the daisies. They taste like the rawness of sunlight.

Hand pressed against your chest, your eyes dart around the room, trying to catch your bearings. There’s an IV in your arm, the bed railings are plastic, Sam is sitting in the corner, the lights are dimmed.

Sam Wilson is sitting in the corner.

You gasp, looking at him, and he’s staring right back at you, a familiar book in his hands.

Sam Wilson is sitting beside your bed, holding The Flowers of Evil, and the look on his face is far from happy to see you. It’s not anger. And it’s not sadness. It just… is. And Sam is never “just” anything.

Even if he thinks that sometimes, like the times when he calls you and says, “It’s just me,” as if he isn’t something special, so important you can’t live without him in your life.

Well, you can’t live with him, either.

After a solid minute, Sam looks down at the book between his dark hands, and he begins to sift through the pages. He stops sometimes, lingers on the sheets of dried daisies that have been pressed, their color leaking onto the text only slightly. But then he moves forward, searching for something. You don’t know what.

“How long have you been here?” you ask, throat sore when you speak.

“How long have you been in love with me?”

Your teeth gnash together, bite into your bottom lip, worry a sore there as he doesn’t look at you. He just keeps flipping through the book as if he didn’t just thrust a dagger straight through your heart, as if it isn’t beating so fast and hard like it’s trying to stay alive. You feel like you can’t breathe and you don’t know if it’s the flowers crawling out of your lungs and trying to get to him or if it’s the fact that he knows.

You can’t answer him.

Sam stops on a page, his finger trailing over the script, and then he begins to read.

“And yet

to wine, to opium even, I prefer

the elixir of your lips on which love flaunts itself;

and in the wasteland of desire

your eyes afford the wells to slake my thirst.”

“Les Fleurs du Mal,” he says, shutting the book with a thump and striking his palm with it. “Baudelaire sure had a lot to say, didn’t he?”

Your mouth is suddenly so dry. There’s a pink pitcher of water next to the bed, just like a hospital would have, and you reach weakly for it. Sam grabs it immediately, pouring you a cup, and passing it gently to you. You gulp what you can down through the straw, hardly breathing.

When you finally feel like you aren’t going to cough your lungs up into your hands again, Sam takes the cup back from you, and embarrassment is a cold shiver down your spine.

He sits back down beside you, looking straight at you. “Do you want to get the surgery?”

Your lips part to speak, but he interrupts.

“Be honest.”

Chewing your lip, you take a deep breath. “No. And I never planned on it, either.” From the corner of your eye, you see his jaw tighten.

“Why not?”

“Because what is a life without the fucking sun, Sam?” The words are spat from your mouth. “A life spent not loving you—not knowing you, not feeling you anymore—it wasn’t worth it. Because I love you, Samuel Wilson. I have loved you since the day I met you and you told me—told me I was pretty for some goddamn reason. And I’ve loved you every day since. I love everything about you and there is not a single iteration of life that I would want to live if it meant not loving you.”

This time, nothing tastes like blood. It’s all just daisies, like they’re populating your mouth, changing the way your tongue works, turning to paste in your teeth. It’s so strong that it hurts. Like you’re eating paper valentines and crying too many tears as you say goodbye to a body in a casket.

But it’s beautiful and lovely and gorgeous because you swear that, somewhere beneath it, you can taste what you think love might taste like.

Sam doesn’t speak and it hurts, but it tosses your book down on the side table and reaches into his pocket and it still hurts. He pulls out his phone. You swallow down the rising earth in your chest.

He pulls out his phone—no, it’s your phone. He turns the screen toward you and punches in your password. You furrow your brows. When did he learn your password? But it doesn’t matter, really, because he just swipes to your call log and pulls up your voicemails. And then he begins to play them.

“Hey there darlin’, it’s just me. I couldn’t find you anywhere—where you at? I thought we could go pick some up and I’ll hang ‘em up. You need me and I’ll be there, ‘kay honey? I, uh, I wanted to ask this girl, but uh, I ended up waiting too long and I’m a little late so… I’ll see you there, honey. I wanted to catch you before we gotta go, in case you wanted to say goodbye. I need to tell you something. Even if it will hurt, even if it will destroy—destroy what we have, I don’t know. I’ll catch you later, darlin’. Have fun, girl. Save a dance for me, baby. Take care of yourself while I’m gone, sweetness. But I need to tell you, baby. I need to.”

The sobs fall from the broken seal of your lips, loud and crashing, like a waterfall. Your hand, shaking and weak, comes up to try to cover your mouth, but Sam lunges forward and catches your wrist in gentle fingers.

He’s looking at you like you’re everything—and you know, you know now that you are—to him.

“You’ve been saying that this whole time?” you ask, a laugh bubbling up from your lungs. No flowers retch up your throat.

Sam smiles, lips pulling back to reveal that gap in his front teeth.

“You haven’t been listening, baby girl. I’ve been tryin’ to tell you I love you for months.”

He rests his forehead upon yours, and as close as he is, all you can smell now is the spice of his cologne. Nothing smells floral.

“I never would have thought,” you whisper. “I was sure—so sure—that you didn’t love me. I thought because of the flowers, I thought that meant for sure that you didn’t love me. I mean, why would you? Why would you ever love someone like me?”

“Honey,” he says, so softly, “you’re starlight.”

Tears flood your cheeks and Sam cups your face in his large hands, wiping them away with gentle thumbs.

Sam Wilson is sunlight. You never considered that you could be starlight.

“Why wouldn’t I love you, darlin’? You’re so good, so gorgeous, so perfect.” He laughs and it makes you laugh too, but it comes out like a sob. Your heart feels lighter. “But you’ve never considered yourself worthy of love before, have you?”

“I’m sorry,” you cry. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”

He hushes you, soothes you, smooths his palms over the planes of your face and over your hair,

“You don’t have to be sorry, baby. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He presses a warm kiss to your forehead and the memory of every single time he’s kissed your forehead like this flashes through your mind, an electric current, and you wonder how you never saw it before now.

“I love you,” you say, and this time, your lungs don’t feel as though they will burst from the pressure, the roots, the vines twined around them. You don’t feel choked by petals. You don’t taste blood in the back of your mouth.

“I know,” he says, “and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my days with you convincing you that you are worthy of love, honey. Because I’m in love with you. I’m so in love with you.”

When he presses his lips to yours, he doesn’t taste like flowers. Not like the daisies that wrote your death sentence. He tastes like golden pools of sunlight, warm and wanting. This is your heliotropism. You are a magnet for him, Sam Wilson, god of the fucking sun.

And maybe he’s phototropic, always drawn to you, moving toward your starlight.

(“Hey, it’s me. Sorry I missed your call! I’m on my way home now, and guess what? I have a surprise for you. It’s a bit ironic, but I think you’ll like it. What do you think of the name Daisy for a baby girl?”)

[tooweirdforyou]

I-I very much enjoyed your fic with the S/O having a mean & horrible ex. I-I was wondering if you could do one with Law, Shanks and Crocodile?? (It’s cause I too had a very horrible ex and it was very comforting to read your lovely fics) thank you so much and I hope you stay safe and have a lovely day 🥺💖💖💖💖💖

Law, Shanks + Crocodile And A S/O With A Mean Ex

A/N : I’m sorry this took a while, I really hope you all are okay, with having to experience and deal with exes like that :/

note : mentions of abuse / harsh words / names

no mention of specificity so I varied scenes.

Summary : these boys reacting to your mean ex coming by and talking to you.

Zoro, Mihawk, Ace » Here!

-

Law

Law is harsh. He is sadistic. He is angry. But yet, he remains calm. Though, he is quite the provoking type. He’s almost a Yandere.

It starts off on just coming onto an island in hopes to pick up some supplies. As much as the others focus, Penguin and Shachi are easy to get distracted and immediately made friends with a particular someone, while you were out with Law.

Once the crew regrouped at the coast, you and Law find Shachi and Penguin laughing with an unfamiliar person and your eyes widen at the sight.

“[ Ex Name ]?”

Almost immediately, laughter ceased and your ex turn to you with wide eyes before a sneer was seen, shocking everyone else once again.

“[Name]? What the hell are you doing here?” Your ex scoffs as they roll their eyes. “Everywhere I go, it seems it always links back to you, I swear.”

Your brows furrowed as you unintentionally took a step back, Law quickly noticing the said action as he narrows his eyes at the person.

“Who are you? What business do you have with [Name]-ya?”

“What business? Who the fuck are you?” Your ex then snaps in realization. “Ah, you must be the surgeon of death, captain of the Heart Pirates.” They began to cackle.

“Doctor? You went for a doctor after me?” They continue to laugh, you just gulping as they continue to take step by step closer to you.

Unknown to the group, Law was creating a giant room and his sword was ready to slice your ex apart.

“It makes sense you’d go for a doctor. Maybe he could find what the hell is wrong with your brain for even thinking about leaving me, you little—!”

Shutting your eyes and bracing for another physical attack from your ex, you widen them when you hear Law’s voice.

“That’s enough.”

SLASH!

“You really have the nerve to come to my crew, to walk towards my significant other, and dare attempt to hit them?”

Swinging his sword to rest on his shoulder, his eyes darken dangerously and a cocky smirk was found on his lips, nearly sending chills down everyone’s spine as they stare at your ex that was cut into two.

“What were you saying about them dating a doctor? Oh, that’s right. ‘To fix something in their brain’ was it? It was actually to allow me to heal any disgusting injuries that you both mentally and physically caused [Name]-ya.” Law corrects, pulling down his sword to cut a few more pieces from your ex.

Speaking of which, your ex didn’t say a word, mostly internally panicking at the sight of his limbs apart from each other, since he was witnessing first hand, the Surgeon of Death’s skills.

“Where is that arrogant attitude just now? What happened?” Law hums, tilting his head to the side before he continued to cut them piece by piece.

“Law.. let’s go..”

Law stands up hearing you and with a piercing glare, he sheathes his sword and stepped onto one of your ex’s hands, eliciting a whimper from them.

“Next time, I’ll break off your arms to make sure you can never even attempt to hurt [Name]-ya.”

With that, he began heading back to the submarine, guiding you along with him as the crew silently followed, the room disappearing and left your ex alone, all cut up.

And though you were in public, in front of the crew, Law willingly brought you closer to him. His movement gentle with you. Only for you, was he soft.

-

Shanks

Though Shanks’ looks are quite calm about all of this, his eyes say otherwise.

It would be when you are sailing around the New World, heading out to the Grand Line to meet with Mihawk with Shanks.

However, along the way, it seems something had occurred. A lone sailer, drifting across the water on a small boat passed out.

The kind gentleman he was, Shanks told the crew to pull him up and treat them. You almost didn’t recognize who it was, until they actually confronted you, and it seems someone still held anger within themselves.

“[Name]?”

You’d be shocked for sure, unable to say a word, just speechless that the person Shanks saved, turned out to be your ex that you left after they verbally abused you.

“Why the hell are you on Red Haired’s ship?... you don’t belong here..not on the famous, notorious one armed Emperor.” They were clutching their arm and had bandages all around them.

“I..” Before you could say anything, your ex continued to talk, unknown to the red-haired pirate Captain coming out himself.

“Even when we were dating, you always stood out. Not in the good way. You kept making trouble for me and everyone else, and just never belonged anywhere with anyone. I’m almost embarrassed I dated you.”

You simply look away, ignoring whatever he had to say, missing Shanks silent steps forward.

“You’re just an accident waiting to happen. Oh wait.. it already did.”

Before your ex could continue further, Shanks was already looming over them on the ground, the sharpest glare his eyes could muster. He didn’t even have to use haki to instantly intimidate your ex. You could tell from the fearful and shocked look across their face.

“My apologies, sir/Ma’am. I don’t think I heard you right. Could you repeat that for me?” His one arm would be gripping the hilt of his sword casually.

His face plastered the forceful and harshest grin you’ve ever seen.

“I know you couldn’t have insulted my beloved so casually like that, so I must kindly ask you to repeat your words once more. My dear [Name] is an angel and if you really have the guts to say further unnecessary things to my lover.. well.”

He began to unsheathe his sword and a smirk came over his lips.

“I can make you a nonfamous, one-armed asshole.”

Fully unsheathed, Shanks casually held out his sword, now crouching down to their level. “Would you like that?”

Hyperventilating at the thought of being cut by one of the Emperors, your ex simply screamed and ran over to the railing of the ship, before jumping off for his life.

You were just shocked, not quite sure of what to say or think but Shanks quickly snapped you out of it, his sword now sheathed and hand gently caressing yours.

“Hey, Angel. Let’s continue sailing and once we greet Mihawk, let’s have a party and relax. Okay?”

-

Crocodile

Crocodile is condescending.

He’d just sneer and scoff at your ex.

It’d be when you two are away for a bit, along with Mr. 1, Daz Bones. After Crocodile’s title as Warlord has been revoked.

You two were just together, Crocodile walking with you around the area and occasionally looking at a couple things through the display window, and if you looked at something a little too long, he’d immediately buy it for you, plus more, despite your attempts to stop him.

Now, this time, Crocodile and Daz had to discuss a certain topic that he didn’t want you to overhear, so he gave you some money and told you to wander around and buy yourself some things.

Not wanting to disrupt their important meeting, you agreed, and so you were simply just walking around the town on your own.

Unfortunately, had to bump into someone along the way. Literally.

About to fall on your ass, a hand caught yours immediately. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you! Are you okay?-“

Almost immediately, once the person recognized your face, they let go and caused you to fall anyways.

“[Name]?!” Clear confusion ran across their face as they immediately jumped back at the shock. “Why are you here?”

You barely heard them, feeling pain on your tailbone from the rough fall as you slowly stood up. “I’m here.. for none of your business..”

Coughing slightly, your ex scrunches up their face before rolling their eyes. “I can’t believe I almost saved you. Get out of my sight, [Name]. This town isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

“Why don’t you leave instead?”

Crocodile, making his way over with Daz behind him, stares down at your ex like he was inferior. Nothing more than a pest.

His cigar between his teeth and his giant coat hanging around his shoulders, which he took off and carefully placed around you once he was beside you.

“Tch. An ex-warlord? Pathetic. I can’t believe you’re actually going out with a man like him.” Your ex comments rudely, making Crocodile smirk a bit in amusement, walking towards your ex and gripping his throat with his large hand.

“A man like me, you say? Someone who is strong enough to even become a warlord. Someone with money and power that can easily take you down within seconds?”

Slowly, your ex began to lose all liquid in their body and was becoming wrinkly, due to Crocodile’s sand.

His smirk then drops to one unimpressed as he squeezed harder, until there was nothing left.

“You are undeserving to even be in my nor [Name]’s presence. Get lost, you pathetic waste of space.”

With that, Crocodile dropped your ex’s lifeless corpse and turned to you, with a soft expression. “Let’s go, darling. We’ll find you some new clothing.”

Hand pressed against the dip of your back, he gently guided you away from the scene and let Daz take care of your ex’s body.

-

Sorry for the delay, anon. I sincerely hope this was okay!

[swcetnight]

slush || knj drabble

synopsis:

Worst of all, the disgusting, sopping wet mess of slush. Even thinking about it makes you want to gag.

written for: @triviafics from your bangtan secret santa, angel 🕊 for the @bangtansecretsanta event!

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: fluff, slice of life, non idol!au

word count: 492

authors note:

SURPRISE @triviafics !!! It’s me, angel 🕊 your bangtan secret santa!!! now, I originally was so ready to write a long fic… and I apologize that I was unable to do so. I’m in the process of moving right now (literally leaving for my new home today, thus why i’m posting now before i get on the road!)— and this month has been insane with that— so I was only given the time to write a drabble 🥺🤍 still, I hope this suffices! maybe at some point i’ll be able to extend it for ya! 🤍 nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this little slice of Kim Namjoon being… irresistible.

You didn't mind the snow. You thought it was actually quite beautiful— always fluffy like a sheep's wool and a perfect view to look out to in the comfort of your own wooly socks and your home's fireplace. And that's exactly where your love for snow ends… because the second you have to step out in it and freeze your poor toes (who you know would much rather be in those aforementioned wooly socks), that's when you have a problem. Worst of all, the disgusting, sopping wet mess of slush. Even thinking about it makes you want to gag.

You were on your way to the fifth date of this month, struggling to find someone to grasp onto, seeing as every person you've met has either been the complete opposite of what they claimed to be, or they just didn't seem to fit into the picture within your brain. It's not that you're picky when it comes to dating, but you at least want to see some kind of future with them. So, you had hoped that trudging through the slush was going to be worth your while this time. That you would actually meet someone who made you feel like yourself again.

What you didn't expect to be doing was thanking every single fraction of the universe for slush, and yet, here you are.

An unfamiliar hand lays deeply within your grasp, both covered with warm mittens and snowflakes grasping onto the edges of the material. You glance down at the intertwined gloves, slowly moving up his arm and towards the collar of his jacket, noticing the soft hue of red that paints his cheeks like fresh color on a canvas. A canvas with dimpled smiles and warm eyes that make you want to melt and become one with the slush that slops against your footsteps. The slush you had nearly stumbled into before the man (who now holds your hand) kept you from falling.

This wasn't the date you had initially planned for. In fact, you regret looking at the looming message that alerts your phone when you text the aforementioned date and tell them that you aren't coming anymore.

[From: david] that's okay… maybe another time?

You knew there would be no other time.

Not when the dimpled smile of the man before you laughs into the air, fog dissipating into the night sky that seems to get colder by the minute. And when he asks you to come inside for a night of hot chocolate and a "Home Alone" watch party, you can hardly keep yourself from barging through the front door. It's only halfway into the movie that you seem to register the fact that you'd never even asked for the young man's name.

"Namjoon." He responds with gentle eyes, handing you your mug of fresh hot chocolate. "Kim Namjoon."

Slush wasn't the worst thing in the world… in fact, it was probably now your favorite creation.

[wroteasongabouther]

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 4

a/n: i seriously cannot thank you guys enough, and i apologies for taking a lot longer to post. but the love and kind words and support that you’ve given me has been just incredible and i could cry happy tears honestly. now, i hope u enjoy part 4 and all that it includes and pls remember to reblog and leave feedback if u did like it and share it with ur followers/friends ❤️ love u all!

and of course, as always, thank you to @arrogantstyles​ for beta reading 😘

word count: 16k

warnings: mentions of masturbation (right off the bat too ur welcome lol), cursing, consumption of alcohol (i swear they’re not drunks, just ‘tis the season ya know), and minor sexual content (!!!!!!finally!!!!!) 

fic page // let’s chat // cstsyl playlist

Harry’s breathing is loud, echoing off the walls of his shower as he struggles to inhale and exhale slowly once more. He inhales deeply and lets his hand that was resting upon the wall in front of him drop back to his side. He huffs through his mouth, blowing away some drops of water that were dripping down his face, while the other hand releases the grasp he had on his cock. Harry didn’t intend to masturbate in the shower like some hormonal teenager; he didn’t plan to masturbate last night before he got under the covers, either. It’s all Y/N’s doing, he thinks, she was clouding his head more than usual. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about last night, the lingering stares, her small delicate hands lingering on his thigh or dancing over his rings.

“Jesus,” Harry’s voice is hoarse as he curses himself. He was this close to falling back into yet another spiral down the rabbit hole that was Y/N. Which would more than likely result in him playing with himself, again.

Bringing both his hands under the water, he gives them a quick rinse before turning to his shelf where his body wash is. He pumps a bit of the goat's milk and lavender infused soap into his hand and brings it to his chest, rubbing in circles till it begins to bubble on his skin. He works his way down to the mess between his thighs, gently cleaning himself up before rinsing off. Harry turns to face the wall again.Sighing, he cups his hands under the stream of warm water and splashes it onto the wall before he just brings his hand up to wipe away the remains of his little private solo session.

Once he’s all squeaky clean, Harry turns off the water and shakes his hair out a little before he’s opening the glass shower door and stepping out. He grabs his towel, drying himself off before wrapping it around his waist. A part of him will always want to grab a second towel to wrap up his hair, but it’s no longer the length that it’s needed. Sometimes he misses his long hair. Harry makes sure the fan is on before he leaves the bathroom and walks into his bedroom.

I wonder what Y/N is doing? He thinks as he reaches into his drawers for a pair of pants, some grey sweatpants, and then walks over to his closet to grab a dark blue crew neck jumper and a plain white shirt to wear underneath. Wonder what Y/N is wearing today, Harry daydreams as he lets his towel drop and steps into his pants, then into the sweatpants next. Suddenly Harry comes to realize what he’s doing, how utterly annoying he is by thinking about what Y/N is doing at any given moment. It’s something he’s caught himself doing before, actually. He inhales through his nose and shakes his head. Just relax, he thinks and then finishes getting dressed and pockets his cell phone that was sitting on his charger before he’s walking out to his living room.

As Harry’s preparing his coffee machine for his first cup of the day, his phone begins to vibrate. Fishing it out of his front pocket, he looks at the screen to see Mitch’s contact photo. Harry sets the baby blue mug he had grabbed into place for his coffee to brew and then swipes his finger across the screen to answer Mitch’s call.

“Hey,” Harry says, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder as he opens his bread box and grabs a loaf of twelve grain.

“Is she still in bed?” Mitch asks. Harry’s eyebrows crease at his friend's absurd question.

“What?” Harry questions. His focus is on unraveling the bag his bread was in, grabbing two slices, before twisting it back up and sticking it into the bread box. He shuts the bread box and walks the few steps to his left to his toaster, plopping the bread slices into it and pushing down the buttons to get his breakfast toasting.

“Is she still in bed?” Mitch repeats himself, this time taking a brief pause after each word to really get his words across. Harry just rolls his eyes at Mitch and takes his phone back into his hand. He catches sight of the digital clock on his oven and his face twists up in confusion suddenly.

“Have you gone to sleep yet?” Harry asks, puzzled by how it’s just past nine in the morning and Mitch is somehow awake enough to call him.

“No, but that’s besides the point here, H,” Mitch says, breezes over the fact he’s an absolute lunatic for not going to sleep yet. “You’re dodging my question, so therefore I’m going to assume she’s still in bed,” he resorts. Harry can tell by the sass in his voice that he’s still buzzing from whatever amount of alcohol he had after him and Y/N left the bar last night. Harry watches his coffee drip into the mug slowly and furrows his brows once again at his friends words.

“Who’s still in bed?” Harry asks. Mitch lets out a deep breath and Harry just knows he’s rolling his eyes too.

“Who do you think I mean, Harry? The queen of England? No, I mean Y/N. Obviously,” he grumbles into the phone. Harry grabs the handle of his mug now full of coffee and rolls his eyes again.

“Y/N and I didn’t sleep together last night, sorry to disappoint,” he chirps back at Mitch.

“Bullshit, you two were basically eye fucking last night, the sexual tension was insane,” Mitch states. While Mitch is talking, Harry blows on his coffee before taking a small sip. The black coffee is still hot on his tongue, but doesn’t burn it thankfully. Suddenly his two slices of toast pop up, he sets down his mug and opens his fridge to find his small container of margarine. As he’s opening a drawer to find a butter knife, he lets out a tiny sigh.

“Like I said last night,” Harry pauses to make sure Mitch is listening, “I’m letting things settle down for her and see how it plays out,” Harry explains, resting his phone between his ear and shoulder again in order to take out the toast and spread butter on both slices.

“And what you’re saying is it didn’t play out with her ending up in your bed last night? I’m shocked, really,” Mitch says, his voice sounding genuinely surprised to hear that Harry’s night didn’t end how he imagined it would.

Honestly, Harry imagined it the same way at some points last night too. Thinking about how Y/N was a bit of a touchy drunk, therefore did that mean that she would be looking for her rebound hookup? Harry didn’t want to be that though. There was too much potential between them and this connection they’ve made so quickly, that he didn’t want to ruin it with some drunk hookup. But, yes, he imagined it, cause he’d be an idiot not to - a hot girl smiling all night at him, how she would jut out her chest just slightly cause he figured she loved how his eyes wandered over her body at times; so of course he thought of how their night could have ended differently together. Hell, he masturbated while thinking about it, twice within the past twelve hours to be exact.

Plus, their time last night was more than the sexual tension that may or may not have happened. Harry’s stomach is fluttering around just thinking about the gitty smiles and sweet words from Y/N, and how well she clicked with his best mates too. And truthfully, he was happy with how the night ended - with them in their own beds. Because their time would come eventually, Harry would let things play out however Y/N needed it to and he would wait for the right moment to swoop in and give her what he hoped was the best kiss of her life. Big dreams, Styles, he thinks to himself.

“She didn’t even think you liked her,” Harry tells Mitch, causing him to let out a snort.

“You know how I am,” he dismisses Harry's comment, “but I don’t know man, she’s good for you,” Mitch adds in a soft voice. His words make another storm of butterflies to erupt in Harry’s stomach as he smiles. “I didn’t not like her, I just sat back and let the two of you laugh all night and eye fuck each other on occasion too,” Mitch explains a little too casually. Harry shakes his head and takes a bit of his toast.

“Go to sleep, Mitch,” Harry says after he chews some of his toast.

“Good idea,” he yawns. “Talk soon,” he says.

“Bye,” Harry responds, taking his phone away from his ear and hanging up the call.

Harry grabs his plate with his half eaten toast in one hand and his coffee in the other, bringing it to his small dining table that sat against the far wall of his kitchen. Sipping his coffee now, it’s not too hot and he can actually enjoy it between bites of his toast. During him eating he finds his thoughts drifting to their typical place these days - Y/N.

Long story short, he found himself only liking her more than before after how things were between them last night. He can’t even imagine how far gone he’ll be for her if things actually went further than this blossoming friendship - with a dash of sexual tension - that they’ve established.

“This hangover is truly going to kill me,” Y/N groans out.

She’s finally standing on her two feet in the bathroom after having been sitting by the toilet for the past twenty minutes. Both her palms are face down on the counter, her arms straight as she leans forward slightly and lets her head hang heavy between her shoulders. Looking up at her reflection she sees just how dirty the tequila has done her by the bags under her eyes and the queasy feeling in her stomach as she just thinks about how much tequila she had last night.

“It’s karma for not sleeping with Harry,” Sammy taunts her, his voice coming through the speaker of her cell phone that rests on the counter beside her.

He called earlier while Y/N was still asleep, the first time in forever that she slept past ten in the morning. She had seen the call, but was too busy rushing to the bathroom to empty her stomach to return it. Then she showered away the gross hungover feeling, it only helped a little, before she got dressed into a pair of leggings and an old college hoodie and ended up in front of the toilet again as the tequila teased her making her think she was going to throw up but she didn’t - thankfully.

“I thought about it, Sammy, I swear,” she shares, letting out a sigh as she looks up at the ceiling and relaxes her body again - the threat of vomiting again seeming to fade away.

“So why didn’t you?” Sammy asks.

“Cause I just didn’t want it to be like some pointless quick fuck with him,” Y/N tells him truthfully. “Sure, I loved how as we both got buzzed things got a little more careless and touchy and flirty. But it was just fun and it made my head spin and my heart pretty much leaped out of my chest. It wasn’t just stupid pointless flirting to get laid, it was deeper than that,” she explains to her best friend. As her words spill out she realizes she doesn’t quite make sense, and yet it made perfect sense in her head how she felt about Harry.

“And you feel this way and managed to somehow not tackle this man down and fuck his brains?” Sammy questions, his voice in a joking tone but Y/N knows he’s genuinely confused.

“Obviously I imagined it,” she admits, “I fucking brought out my vibrator last night, Sammy, I was that turned on by the damn guy. But I really don’t want to mess this up with Harry. I don’t want to jump right into it after the break up with Mark, and then ruin what is hands down the best connection I’ve ever felt with someone before. I just want to see how things play out, don’t force anything, you know?” she spills out, letting out a deep breath afterwards.

Those words have been heavy on her chest since she woke up this morning and replayed everything that happened between her and Harry. The smiles, the longing looks, the drinks, the touching, the smirking, and the goddamn sexual tension. Yes, she wanted to kiss him, many, many, times; all over his body, anywhere that she could. She imagined how their night could’ve ended if she wanted just a simply messy hot drunk hookup. But she wanted more than that with Harry - so much more. It was the honest truth, regardless of how soon she’s broken up with Mark, she can’t ignore how her feelings have grown towards Harry. So, she was just going to let it go on and whatever happens, happens.

“So, what are you doing tonight?” Sammy asks, bringing the topic away from Harry - only for Y/N to bring it right back. Which was exactly how her thoughts have been doing lately too; drifting away from Harry for only a moment before flying right back to him.

“Um, I sort of drunkenly made plans to watch a movie with Harry tonight,” she says, “I don’t even know if he remembers, I’m just going to wing it and knock on his door later.”

“You know what you should do? You should invite him to the work holiday party,” Sammy suggests, “I’m getting tired of talking about him so much and yet I don’t even know what he really looks like cause you suck at taking discreet sneaky pictures,” he explains with a dramatic sigh. Y/N rolls her eyes and finally decides now is a good time to leave the bathroom, no longer feeling too sick from her hangover. But she still heads back to her bedroom, flopping down onto her bed.

“I don’t know, I don’t want to make it weird and invite him to something less casual,” Y/N says.

“Well, see how things play out these next few days and if it’s good then invite him, seriously I’m dying to see some eye candy, Y/N,” Sammy groans.

“Okay, Sammy, we’ll see,” Y/N says, matching his melodramatic tone. She lets out another sigh, which is then taken over by a yawn. “I’m going to go, my head is pounding and I think I should try and nap before dealing with some work emails and then going to Harry’s,” Y/N explains.

“Fine,” Sammy sighs, “it’s weird that you’re the hungover one and I’m not,” he mentions. Y/N lets out a laugh through her nose and shuts her eyes.

“Honestly, it is,” she agrees, “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Ok, bye, feel better,” Sammy says, Y/N hears the smile in his voice.

“Thanks, bye,” she says and then hangs up the phone. She puts it down beside her and keeps her eyes shut. Taking a few deep breaths, Y/N tries to fall back asleep again. And she’s just about to when she hears that familiar heart warming guitar from Harry’s apartment. She wonders how long he’s been up? If he’s hungover at all too? She could text him and ask, but instead she just lays there and smiles as she listens to the muffled sweet melody he’s playing - then falls back into a deep slumber that her hungover body so desperately needed.

Y/N had texted Harry earlier, after he had written an entire song, surprisingly not about her this time. Well there was one line he wrote down that had to do with Y/N - played with myself where were you. It was cheeky, and didn’t really go with anything else he had so he just flipped through his journal and let himself get immersed into his songwriting during the hours of the day. Only ever stopping to make himself food or to use the washroom - otherwise, he was working hard without even meaning to.

Her first text read, So what time should I come over to watch the Polar Express? And then her second one made Harry chuckle, Also that guitar playing sounds pretty heavenly today, can’t wait to hear it in person later. With a winking face emoji at the end and everything. Cheeky girl, and anytime after seven should be fine to come over. Harry texted her back, also adding a winking emoji and then he went back into his work, ordered dinner, and now here they were.

There’s a rather soft knock on Harry’s door, causing him to stop writing in his journal and gets up to answer it. After unlocking the door, he swings it open and is surprised to see Y/N’s arms full, nearly dropping a can of whipped cream as she smiles at him.

“I brought everything for hot chocolate,” she states, beaming up at Harry over the container that holds her hot chocolate mix.

“I can see that,” Harry chuckles and reaches out to take everything from her. “You know I could’ve helped you carry a few things over, and I also have plenty of mugs here,” he says, lifting a finger that held the Grinch mug he had used at her apartment about a week ago now.

“I know, but mine are Christmas themed and it’s literally twelve days till Christmas and I need to use them as much as possible,” Y/N explains as she steps into Harry’s home and closes the door behind them. Harry takes in her appearance. Black leggings and a FIT jumper, and a pair of pink fuzzy socks on her feet. Harry’s brows pinch together as he holds back a laugh. “It’s only a few feet between our apartments, as you know, shoes are kind of pointless going back and forth,” she states with a nod.

Harry chuckles, lifting a brow and turning the corners of his lips up into a smile before saying, “yes, been there,” he says recalling the last time they had a movie night.

And just like that time, they moved together to the kitchen - after Harry locks the door behind Y/N - and they begin to make their hot chocolate in the two Christmas mugs Y/N brought along with her. Harry finds it endearing that she felt she needed to not only bring the supplies for hot chocolate, but also brought along her Christmas themed mugs. She truly does love the holidays, Harry thinks as he pours the boiling water into the mugs that Y/N had put the mix into. As they’re in the kitchen they’re talking about how their days were.

“So hungover,” Y/N groans, confirming how she had felt today after Harry had asked.

“You did drink that tequila like it was water though,” Harry states, chuckling as he watches Y/N stir the spoon in the mugs to mix up the hot chocolate. Y/N lets out a playful hiss as if the thought of all that tequila hurt her to think about now.

“I probably looked like a drunk in front of all your friends,” she thinks aloud. She frowns as she wraps her hand around the can of whipped cream, shaking it a few times before tipping it upside down and pushing the tip of it to fill up the top of the mug. She grabs the Grinch mug with one hand and holds it to Harry, making it smile as he realizes she remembered how he used that mug last time.

“They were just as drunk, maybe even more,” Harry tells her, “in fact, Mitch pulled an all nighter.”

“Well, good,” Y/N sighs, following him into the living room with both her hands wrapped around the Santa mug. “I really did have fun though,” she adds as they take a seat on the couch.

Harry meets her gaze after she takes a sip of her hot chocolate. A bit of whipped cream gets on her upper lip as she pulls the mug away. Y/N realizes and sticks her tongue out to swipe it over her lip, licking it away. Harry’s gaze is glued to her movements, his mouth suddenly feeling dry as he inhales slowly through his nose. And those certain thoughts of Y/N didn’t hide away for very long, Harry thinks before he clears his throat quietly and lifts his mug to his lips.

“I did too,” he says, “all of us did, they said you were cool like five times in our groupchat,” he adds before taking a sip of his warm drink. Y/N stomach lunges knowing that him and his friends talked about her in their groupchat. Has she been a topic of discussion before?

“Me? Cool?” Y/N questions, confusion thick in her voice. “No way, they’re the cool ones, not me. I mean you are all clearly very musically gifted and get to just hangout and make music and I find it all just very… Cool,” Y/N explains as she ends with a small sigh and smiles at Harry.

“It can be pretty cool, yeah,” Harry nods, mirroring her smile.

“Speaking of being musically gifted,” Y/N hums, smirking over her mug before taking another sip.

Harry knows where she’s going with this already. He gets that familiar nervous feeling in his stomach, nothing like the butterflies he was feeling just before knowing that she finds his line or work ‘cool’ - in fact he feels his smile slip immediately but tries to cover it with a cough. He sets down his mug and brings his hands to his lap, leaning back into the couch while he looks at the blank TV screen on the wall.

“Will you play something for me?” Y/N asks in that intoxicating softly spoken voice of hers.

“I want to play for you, I do,” Harry assures her after a few beats of silence, as he tried to figure out how to get her to drop this idea of him playing for her.  

“But?” Y/N inquiries, tilting her head slightly to try and look at his face better. He looks uncomfortable, Y/N thinks and tries her hardest to not frown. She guesses that he’s just got a bit of stage fright of some sorts. But he plays for a living, there must be a few people he plays in front of at the studio.

“But, I want to have the perfect song to show you,” Harry tells her as he turns to meet her eyes. It’s not a lie, he truly does want to play the most perfect song for her. But that nervous feeling in his stomach doesn’t go away.

“I’m sure all your songs are perfect,” Y/N assures him. Her voice is still as gentle as before.

“And also it’s my wrist,” Harry says suddenly, lifting his right wrist up, “I got surgery on it earlier this year, it’s just been acting up.” Quick thinking, Styles, he thinks and gives her a smile.

Y/N remembers how she had heard him playing earlier today. But by the way that Harry’s avoiding Y/N’s eyes again while this stretch of silence falls between them, and the fact he’s rubbing at his wrist for good measure too, Y/N knows that he’s not ready yet to play in front of her. So, she gives him a sweet smile and stands up from the couch suddenly.

“I have this heating pad, I use it on my ankle that I broke a few years back, it helps sometimes,” Y/N explains, “I’ll go get it,” she says.

Truthfully she just needed a moment to not have to hide how it hurt her feelings just a tad that Harry didn’t feel comfortable enough around her to play. It wasn’t the biggest deal ever, because she sure that one day he will. But it still makes her a bit sad that today’s not that day.

“Y/N, it’s fine, really,” Harry brushes off her suggestion.

“H, I live next door, I’ll be back in two seconds,” she insists, giving him a smile and walking from her seat on the couch, setting down her mug on the coffee table before she’s making her way around Harry as he sits there watching her.

“Okay,” Harry says softly and nods before Y/N is walking out of his apartment. The second the door closes behind her Harry’s deep in his thoughts.

Harry has a pretty high case of stage fright, the feeling of nerves bundling up inside of him at the thought of performing in front of people even made him feel a bit sick sometimes. It was something he’s been working on for years now, through schooling and with his career as a songwriter starting up afterwards too. He would eventually talk himself out of the fear of failing during any uni exams he had, and would ace it naturally, but that ball of nerves sat heavy in his stomach the entire time. When it came to his job, he simply warmed up to his colleagues. At first he didn’t speak up much, would stumble on some notes, but things worked out in the end. It helped a lot after he found his current group as they became his closest mates too, so he became much more comfortable with playing for them over some time.

He realizes that he considers Y/N a close friend now too, and that should mean that he would feel more than confident walking over to the acoustic guitar sitting at it’s stand in the corner by the chair in the living room - but he didn’t quite yet. And one of the main reasons was because he felt something much deeper than friendship. He really freaking liked her. And if he played something, mucking it up like an idiot because of his nerves, he would beat himself up over it for days if not weeks.

Harry imagines the first time he plays a song for her that will be perfect. The song would be about her, he’s got a few of those now, and as he plucked along slowly he’d peer up at her to find her smiling back at him. Then he would really surprise her and sing. Harry knows he can sing well, but again his stage fright that relates to a fear of failing causes him to not sing all that often. He’ll sing for demos for work, or when he’s by himself, but that’s about it. Mitch actually had asked Harry if he wanted to be a part of the band before he found their lead singer, but Harry politely declined and has more than enjoyed just sitting back and watching his friends play instead. Although there’s a small pit of jealousy and envy that’s been growing in size every time he watches them.

Suddenly the door opens back up and Harry’s snapping out of his thoughts to look over his shoulder at Y/N walking in with some brown fabric in her hands. She turns to lock Harry’s door, then turns around and holds up the heating pad in her hands with a smile. It’s a sloth, a simple stitching on it to show it’s hugging wherever it’s placed on someone’s body and a smile on its face.

“I got it not too long ago, while shopping for other people's gifts, actually,” Y/N admits and starts making her way into the kitchen. “Do you do that thing where you are supposed to just be buying presents for other people but you end up buying yourself something too?” She asks Harry, raising her voice slightly as she’s put some distance between them.

“Yes, it’s hard not to,” Harry says as watches her open his microwave and place the sloth inside. She pushes some buttons and it starts up. As the sloth spins inside, Y/N turns around and leans her back against the counter and looks through the open concept space at where Harry sat on the couch.

“Have you bought any presents this year?” She asks, knowing that he’s not going home for Christmas so therefore he wouldn’t have to buy much.

“Just some for Mitch, Adam and his wife and then Tom and Jenny,” Harry states, “what about you? Do you have lots of family to buy gifts for?”

“Not really,” Y/N lifts one shoulder in a shrug, “I’m an only child, but my aunt has a couple kids so I kind of go crazy for them,” she explains with a smile. The microwave beeps, signalling that the heating pad was all warmed up, and Y/N turns back around to open the door and grabs it. It’s not too warm, so she closes the microwave door and makes her way back over to Harry.

She hands the heating pad to Harry and he gives her a smile. He says a quiet ‘thank you’ and places it over his wrist that’s resting on his thigh. It does feel rather nice, actually, he thinks as he adjusts his hand under the warm sloth. He feels a bit bad for making up the little white lie, although his wrist does ache from time to time, it wasn’t in any sort of pain right now. But he’s just being a stupid little coward and deflecting her attention on him playing her something on his guitar. Harry does notice how Y/N’s eyes linger on the acoustic guitar across the room as she leans over to grab her hot chocolate again and takes her seat on the couch once more. You’re such an ass, Styles, Harry thinks to himself but clears his throat and looks at Y/N.

“Did you enjoy growing up as an only child?” He asks. Harry personally couldn’t imagine growing up on his own. His sister, Gemma, was one of his best friends and he was also rather close with cousins while growing up too so they felt a bit like siblings too.

“Not really, no,” Y/N answers truthfully. She clears her throat and looks down at the Santa mug in her hands. “My parents were always busy with working or socializing, sometimes I was invited to come along, other times I was kept away with a nanny or my Aunt would visit sometimes and keep me company.” She tells Harry, feeling herself slowly open up to the idea of sharing everything with him. She hardly told Mark a thing about her childhood or her parents - mostly because he already knew, since he grew up in the same sort of crowd.

“Are you close with your Aunt then?” Harry asks, keeping his voice in that low tone that still brought goosebumps to Y/N’s skin from time to time.

Y/N’s lips tug slightly up into a smile, looking up from her mug and meeting Harry’s gaze. “Yes, she’s probably the one family member that I am close with. I love my parents, don’t get me wrong,” she pauses and ponders how to explain it to him, looking up at the ceiling for only a moment before looking back at Harry. “They just value life a bit differently than me. My Aunt, Vivian, she’s just the most chill and most like me I guess,” Y/N settles with keeping it easy, not digging too deep into her family drama.

Her Aunt Viv, who was her mothers younger sister, was truly the only person in her family that she felt she connected with. Y/N did love her mom and dad, they gave her a life better than she could ever ask for, but they were much more into the lifestyle and gaining wealth and social status over being a true loving family. Hence the many after school programs they stuck her in, and also having a live-in nanny till she was fourteen. But when Viv was around things felt a bit normal in her ridiculously abnormal life.

Viv didn’t have the same big dreams of being a gold digger like Y/N’s mom did, so she went to university, fell in love with a nice young man who worked a normal blue collar type of job and they bought a house just outside of New Jersey. They never ask for any help from Y/N’s parents, and they worked very hard for the life they’re provided for their two young kids. She just found Viv to be much more inspiring than her own mother who’s days included online shopping and luncheons with fellow wives who lived off their wealthy husbands' money. As Y/N grew up, Viv would take her away from her nanny some nights and would just bring her to her home and watch movies, have painting nights, and would even sit down with Y/N for hours watching red carpet events too - knowing her love for fashion even at a young age. She became Y/N’s friend more than another snobby family member.

Harry had respectfully stayed quiet as he saw Y/N fall into deep thought. He didn’t want to ask anymore questions that would cross any lines because from what little he has heard, Y/N’s family life is a bit more complicated than he could imagine. Y/N smiles suddenly, as she’s thinking of a memory.

“Viv was actually the one who really got me into the love for the holidays,” she states, “like, yeah, my parents would go all out with the decorations and the gifts and the parties. But Viv introduced me to the better part of the holidays in my opinion, like she’d take me to the rinks around the city to skate, and she’d show me the city’s festive sights. We’d even have days dedicated to going to the Christmas market. And during all that she’d always have a Starbucks holiday drink in her hand. I guess you could say I sort of modelled my young adult self to be like her during the holidays,” Y/N explains with a smile on her lips.

Those times slowly sadly faded out after Y/N got into high school, and Viv finished uni and met her husband. They wouldn’t go to the rink as much, or go for pointless walks to see the city’s many lights and Christmas Trees. Before Y/N knew it, all those childhood memories that she cherished just slid away, but she understood - they both grew up and she would hold onto those memories that her Aunt Vivian gave her to her heart closely forever.

“But as we both got older, life got busy and now she gets to do all those things over again with her own kids and not her sisters neglected one,” Y/N tries to make it sound like a joke, but it wasn’t.

She hides her frown behind her Santa mug and takes a generous sip, the drink having grown colder as time has passed. Harry’s about to make a comment, about how he’s grateful that Y/N did at least have her Aunt, but Y/N speaks up before he can.

“What about you? What were the holidays like growing up?” She asks, a smile returning to her lips.

“Great, honestly,” Harry nods, letting a short chuckle pass his lips, “my family can be a bit nuts, they love family time and being overbearing with playing silly games or family photos. But, I love it,” Harry explains, smiling.

He thinks about last year, how competitive him and his family got during a game they had played, or how big his mum and gran smiled as they popped Christmas crackers and everyone wore those paper crowns for one of the many photos his mum insisted on taking.

Y/N is mirroring his smile, tucking her mug to her chest as she listens to him. Sounds like a much better time than the memories she has with her parents around the holidays, Y/N thinks feeling a bit jealous - as she did whenever anyone told her of their holiday traditions and such.  She can’t help but notice the distant look in his eyes as he grabs his mug.

“It’s actually the first Christmas I won’t be spending with my family, as I mentioned before,” he states, clearing his throat afterward as the emotions threaten to come in quick. He takes a sip of his hot chocolate and points to the TV then. “Should I pull up the movie before we’re sitting here drinking cold chocolate?” Harry asks. Because, truthfully, he could sit here all night and talk about life with Y/N but they had planned to watch a movie.

“Sure,” Y/N smiles, although feeling a bit sad being reminded that Harry wasn’t going home for the holidays. She takes another sip of her drink again, before she’s turning her body to watch the TV screen on the wall as Harry grabs for the remote and finds the Polar Express on demand.

As the movie begins to play, they both get comfortable and sip their hot chocolates till their Christmas mugs are empty. Harry offers to take Y/N’s mug, so she doesn’t have to sit up from the slouched position she’s slipped into in her corner of the couch, placing it beside his on the coffee table before he relaxes back into his spot. It’s about half way through the movie, after they had jokingly sung along with the hot chocolate song of course, when Y/N is nearly laying out on her end of the couch. Harry feels selfish for not offering the side he’s on, as he has his legs stretched out on the chaise of the couch. Y/N slowly lets her legs slip out across the cushion between them till they’re just slightly bent and the fuzzy pink socks on her feet just barely brush Harry’s thigh.

Her toes wiggle a little, tapping against the side of Harry’s thigh ever so gently, but it causes a much less gentle reaction in his body. His stomach fluttering and his heart pounding as he glances at Y/N in the corner of his eye. A feeling of undesirable desire filters through him as she wiggles her toes again before settling her feet hardly even touching him. But it’s more the act of being comfortable around Harry that has him feeling like his heart might explode.

He’s tempted to grab onto her ankles and stretch out her legs completely so her feet would rest in his lap. Maybe he’d rub her calves, hoping the feeling made her stomach flutter as much as his. But he didn’t want to cross any sort of line. So he was content with the tiny bit of contact between them from her feet resting on the side of his thigh as the movie kept playing.

It wasn’t till near the very end that Harry heard a soft snore come from Y/N. He turns his head completely and looks over at her. Her eyes shut, her lips parted slightly, as she laid on her arms folded under her head. Harry isn’t sure how to react here, should he wake her? Or let her slumber because it’s obvious she needs it since she fell asleep during what she claims to be her favourite holiday movie. Harry ponders for a moment before he decides to finish watching the movie. Once it’s finished is when he’d make his decision.

“Y/N,” Harry says as the credits are rolling. She doesn’t move a muscle. “Y/N, darling,” Harry tries again in a gentle voice, placing a hand on her leg and giving her one good nudge. To which Y/N doesn’t respond at all.

That hangover must be hitting her body hard, begging for the sleep she needed to fully recover. So, Harry reaches for the knitted blanket that’s resting over the back of his couch and paces it over Y/N’s body. As he gets up from the couch, he turns back around and looks at Y/N for a moment - taking in her effortless beauty even while she’s sleeping.

With a nearly inaudible sigh, Harry gathers up their mugs, bringing them to his kitchen and quietly rinsing them out before he double checks that the heat is at a reasonable temperature. It was supposed to get rather cold tonight and he didn’t want Y/N to wake up freezing in his home. Once he’s turned off the TV and the only lights left on are from his tree, he turns back to Y/N. The soft glow from the Christmas lights casting over her breathtaking features causes yet another stir of feelings inside his stomach.

He wishes he could bend down, place a soft kiss to her forehead - maybe one day soon he could. Maybe even get to fall asleep next to her, staring at her beauty till he drifted into a slumber as well. But for now, he just quietly walks down the hall to his bedroom and leaves his door open a few inches just in case Y/N woke up in a panic or anything. He’d be a lighter sleeper than usual tonight, thinking about how close Y/N was.

At one point in the middle of the night Y/N woke up. Her eyelids were still heavy as she tried to focus on the space around her. She had fallen asleep during the movie, in Harry’s apartment, on his couch - oh god. A wave of embarrassment washed over her as her eyes flicker from the blank TV screen, to the now empty other side of the couch, before settling on the warm lights of the Christmas tree.

She should get up and head home to her own apartment and not be an idiot who falls asleep on her friend's couch uninvited. Y/N’s fingers curl around the top of the warm blanket that Harry must’ve draped over her before heading to bed himself. The pads of her fingers brush over the soft fabric while her heart beats like crazy in her chest. Harry’s sweetness and well mannered actions shouldn’t surprise Y/N anymore - but they do. She smiles and brings the blanket to her chin, snuggling into the couch once more and tries to not think about how sore her neck and back will be in the morning from sleeping on the couch. Instead she looks at the Christmas tree as her eyelids grow heavy again and she slips back into her dreamstate once more.

The next time she wakes it’s due to the sun peering through the curtains in Harry’s living room. She blinks a few times and brings a hand up to rub the sleep from her eyes. Suddenly she hears a noise coming from a few feet away from her. Y/N’s heart all but leaps out of her chest as she sits up on the couch and looks to where the noise came from. Her wide eyes meet Harry’s equally widened eyes, him pausing mid-movement as he must’ve been grabbing a mug from the cabinet.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, bearing his clenched teeth to her in a joking but nervous way. His dimple deepens at the facial expression, Y/N notices it right away even from a room away from him.

“It’s okay,” she replies. Her voice sounds a little scratchy as it’s the first time using it since waking. How utterly adorable, Harry thinks as he smiles at her and sets his mug down at his coffee maker before hitting start. “And I should be the one apologizing, I kinda ended up crashing on your couch uninvited,” Y/N says, running a hand through her hair to try and tame it.

“It wasn’t a problem, Y/N, nothing to be sorry about,” Harry tells her, walking towards her till he got to the large threshold between his open concept kitchen and living room. He crosses his arms at his chest and Y/N notices how the muscles in his arms flex immediately. “Must have been a hangover side effect, hm?” Harry questions.

Y/N clears her throat as she tries to not take in Harry’s appearance in the morning but she can’t help herself. He’s wearing a pair of black sweatpants with a simple grey t-shirt, white socks covering his feet, and while him dressed down did look hot - it was how his hair looked that really took her breath away. The way it looks much more fluffy than usual, most likely from rolling around in his bed, made her stomach flutter and she ended up biting her bottom lip as he brought a hand up to push back the bit of hair that had fallen over his forehead. Y/N blinks a few times before meeting his gaze again.

“You’d think the nap I took before coming over would help with my hangover but I guess not,” Y/N states, she exhales through her nose and shakes her head before folding her arms over the back of the couch and rests her chin on them. “But again, I’m sorry,” she adds.

“And again, it’s okay,” Harry ensures her, dropping his arms to his sides as he smiles. “Now, would you like a cup of hot chocolate or coffee?” He asks.

“Coffee,” Y/N answers, her voice back to that soft and gentle tone that made Harry’s head spin. He recalls when they first met, and how he wished he could hear her voice each night and morning. His wish is slowly coming true, although he imagines it involving her in bed more often than not. But for now, he’ll take her waking up on his couch any day if it means he gets to hear her voice.

Harry nods and walks back over to where the mug filled of freshly brewed coffee now sat. Y/N tilts her head to the left, still resting her chin on her arms, as she watches Harry move around his kitchen. He calls over his shoulder to ask what she’d like in her coffee, with which she replies ‘two teaspoons of sugar please’ - that earns her a half smile as he glances her way again and mutters ‘why am i not surprised’, causing Y/N to mock a hurt look on her face and gasps.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She questions, watching him stir up the sugar in her coffee. Harry turns and brings the mug over to her, causing her to sit up straight again and grab it from him with both hands.

“It means you love sugar as much as any toddler would, I swear,” Harry teases.

“Something wrong with liking the taste of something sweet?” She questions, raising a brow as she looks up at him from where he stood on the other side of the back of the couch.

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat at her choice of words. He immediately wants to answer back with ‘well I want to taste you, all of you, so no’ but instead he holds back his filthy thoughts and gulps. Y/N notices Harry’s Adam's apple bob up and down as she stares up at him through her lashes, slowly bringing the mug he had just given her to her lips to give it a taste. Harry watches her the entire time as she sips the coffee and licks it off her lips. Everything inside of him is begging to touch her. To bring the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, catching the last few drops of her drink off her lip, and bringing it to his mouth to get a taste. Or to just take the mug right back, place it on the closest surface and take her face into his hands to kiss her fiercely.

Harry struggles but pushes away his thoughts once again, for what felt like the millionth time this morning, and raises an eyebrow, “sweet enough for you?” He asks, his voice teasing.

Y/N smiles sweetly and nods once, “it’s perfect, thank you,” she replies.

Harry mirrors her smile before he walks back to his kitchen, only then looking down at his sweatpants to ensure there wasn’t any noticeable bulge. It had taken a few disturbing images in his head to calm himself down and not be sporting a hard on in front of Y/N. But he manages, grabs his own mug - since Y/N now held his typical mug he uses for his morning coffee - and sets it into place.

“Any plans today?” Y/N asks, taking another sip of her coffee and feeling the warmth flood inside of her body. Or maybe that feeling was from how Harry had looked at her just now, she thinks.

“Nope,” Harry shakes his head and grabs for his own mug of black coffee. “What about you? No work today?” He asks, bringing the mug to his lips and blowing to cool it down before taking a sip.

Y/N shakes her head and leans back into the side of the couch, “my boss was nice enough to let us have today off, then back in for a few days but Friday, the eighteenth, isn’t really a big work day. We’re having our annual holiday party that night, so we mostly spend the day finalizing any party planning,” she explains to Harry as he leans back against the counter and sips his coffee again.

“Well that’s nice of her to give you the day off, then after the eighteenth are you off work for holidays?” Harry asks.

“Yup,” she nods, “I get two weeks off, back into the swing of things on the fourth of January,” she states.

“Sounds nice,” Harry says with a smile. “I’m jealous you guys have an office Christmas party, my label only really does something for a select group of people. Whoever made them the most money, honestly,” Harry exclaims. What he doesn’t mention is that he had been invited, and has been for the past three years due to his songs hitting it big on radio or on the charts and causing some big ripples for the artists career that had bought them.

“Sounds like the party wouldn’t be all that fun then,” Y/N notes, tilting her head to the side as she watches Harry make his way into the living room and takes a seat on the couch. She tucks her feet up just under her bottom, resting her mug on her knees but still keeping both hands on it of course.

“I’m sure yours is a lot more fun,” Harry nods in agreement.

She should ask him to be her plus one then. But she hesitates, unsure of how he would see her invite. Would he think she’s trying to make it a date? So soon after her break up? Would he think he was being played as her rebound? She would then have to try and cover up that it wasn’t a date, that they could just go as friends, but then she’d sound like she was friend-zoning him and she really didn’t want that. So, while she’s all in her head about what to do, Harry decides to take a chance.

“Did you want to go for a walk around Central Park?” He asks, looking hopefully into Y/N’s eyes. “We can skate there, I’m sure you’ve been but their rink looks like it would be nice too,” Harry suggests.

Her lips tug up into a smile, “yeah, I would love that,” she pauses as her heart pitter patters in her chest at the sight of Harry smiling back at her. “After breakfast though, I’m starving,” she says, being a bit dramatic. But it makes Harry chuckle, which is exactly what she hoped for.

“How do you feel about some chocolate chip pancakes then?” Harry asks, raising a brow as he sits up straight again and mentally goes through the recipe in his head. It typically doesn’t have pancakes, let alone chocolate chip pancakes, but he has a feeling Y/N would like them. Her love for sugar being obvious by now.

“Love them,” Y/N says with a smile still on her lips.

Where did this perfect man come from? Y/N finds herself thinking as she watches Harry get up from the couch and walk back into the kitchen. He sips his coffee as he walks before setting it on the counter.

“I can help if you’d like,” she offers, raising her voice slightly so she knew Harry could hear her.

But Harry dismisses the idea quickly and tells her to just sit back and relax. Any bets on how much longer it took for her to fall for Harry? Y/N thinks, biting her bottom lip as she watches him bend over, peering deep into his fridge as he moves things out of the way in search for whatever he needs. His bum looks rather nice from this angle, she finds herself shamelessly checking him out. Her guess was that it wouldn’t be much longer at all till she fell for him.

“Did you invite him yet?” Sammy asks, biting on his pen as he leans back in his chair. They were waiting in the conference room, along with everyone else that held a higher position at her work, for Amanda to join them and start their final meeting of the year.

“No,” Y/N replies. She shrugs her shoulders and picks at the corner of her notebook.

“And why the hell not?”

“I don’t want to make it weird, bringing him to a work thing and have to explain to everyone how he’s just a friend even though I wish he was more,” she tells Sammy, eyes still on the torn up paper on the table in front of her.

“Well if you don’t invite him then you’re missing the perfect opportunity to make it more than a friendship,” Sammy states, giving her a side eye before he just rolls them and leans forward in his seat again. He leans towards Y/N and looks into her eyes, letting her know he means business. “Talk to him tonight, invite the poor man, and get out of your own head. You don’t have to keep yourself waiting because of what Mark did when you have what you truly deserve right in front of you. Harry makes you happy, I can just tell by the way you smile at your phone or when I see you ditched hanging with me to hang with him and his friends instead,” he says the last bit with sarcastic bitterness.

Y/N lets out a deep breath through her nose and licks her lips. Her brain is running a million miles an hour. As it has been for weeks now, since she met Harry honestly - she just likes him that much. At first she tried to deny it, and last weekend after her sudden break up with Mark she tried to convince herself again that she needed to keep Harry as a friend. But now, now she just wanted him - all of him, all of the time.

“Okay,” Y/N nods.

Sammy’s lips spread up into a wide smile, the look of excitement clear on his face, but to add to it he pumps a fist into the air. Y/N just rolls her eyes and laughs at him. Amanda enters the room soon after, starting up their final meeting of the year. She goes over numbers, stats, comparing last year to this year, and even promotes a few people. Thankfully, Y/N and Sammy are in their ideal positions now, so they never have that nervous feeling of going into a year-end meeting praying for a promotion. But Y/N still grins and claps for her colleagues who are working their way up in the company. After going through some minor details for their annual holiday party tomorrow, Amanda dismisses the team and Y/N is soon after heading home for the day.

Don’t be a pussy. Ask Harry to come to the holiday party or else. Sammy had texted her after they parted ways at the subway. Y/N bit down on her bottom lip, reading over the texts again as the elevator sounds a soft ding! and she walks out onto the sixth floor. Y/N confidently walks on her platform Doc Martin boots passed her own apartment door and right to Harry’s. Lifting her free hand, the other holding her Starbucks holiday drink, she knocks four times on the door before patiently waiting for him to answer. Her heart is beating so loud she can practically hear it ringing in her ears.

Harry answers the door after a few moments, his eyebrows pulling together at the sight of Y/N on the other side. While it’s a delight to see her, they hadn’t planned to hangout at all - so he’s rather surprised to see her standing before him. Y/N smiles and Harry’s quick to mirror it.

“Hey,” she breathes out, the same bundle of nerves that have been with her all day seeming to not relax in the slightest.

“Hey,” Harry smiles, “what’s up?” He asks, leaning against his door.

“Um,” Y/N pauses and closes her eyes, opening them to look at the floor before she takes a deep breath to meet his gaze again. Oh no, Harry thinks, feeling nervous since answering the door as he’s unsure how to take in her nonverbal cues right now. “So, you know that holiday party my work’s having that I mentioned?” Y/N questions, when Harry nods she doesn’t leave another second of hesitation slide by her before continuing. “I was wondering if, maybe, you’re not busy, if you wanted to come with me,” she stumbles out her invitation.

Harry’s truthfully a little surprised by her inviting him. His eyebrows now raised up his forehead as he processes her words. He immediately wants to say yes, obviously. Besides his clear as day feelings for Y/N, he also saw her as a friend too and he would love to accompany her for anything she asked him to.

“Everyone gets a plus one, and I can’t imagine bringing anyone else but you with me. Also, Sammy is practically begging me to introduce you two already,” Y/N exclaims as it seems Harry was in his head for too long. He smiles at her statements. First, blushing slightly at her comment about how she couldn’t imagine inviting anyone but him, and then holding back a chuckle at her mentioning her friend Sammy.

“It’s tomorrow, right?” Harry asks, half to just be sure and half to delay his answer to jokingly stress her out a little maybe.

“Yes,” Y/N nods, biting on her bottom lip for a moment. When Harry’s eyes fall to her teeth nibbling on her pink lips she notices and stops, butterflies present in her stomach at the thought of Harry thinking about her lips.

“I think I’m free,” Harry teases. He brings a hand to his chin, looking up at the ceiling in a joking manner as if he’s pondering what else could be on his schedule for the day. Y/N knows that he’s not doing a whole lot these days, but for all she knows he could have already had things planned with his friends. But Y/N can’t lie - she’s happy to hear he hasn’t.

Y/N chuckles and reaches forward, smacking his arm that’s resting on his chin with a gentle force. Harry chuckles along with her and stops his act as if he’s really thinking about if he can accept her invitation or not. Y/N lets her arms fall back to her side again and smiles, looking into Harry’s dazzling eyes as he smiles back at her. They stand there in his doorway, smiling, for a few beats of silence before Harry tells her.

“You’re going to have to help me with an outfit though,” he says, “there is no way I’m going to a party in New York City that a ton of fashion obsessed people will be at, without your help,” he states. Y/N chuckles again and nods, bringing her Starbucks cup to her mouth slowly.

“I can do that,” she says, tilting her cup to have a sip of the warm liquid.

“Okay,” Harry nods, “and what time will you be picking me up for this date?” He asks jokingly, although a big piece of him is hoping she won’t deny that it’s a date.

Y/N smiles, feeling a blush creeping onto her cheeks, “like, six-ish,” she tells him.

“Sounds good,” Harry says.

“Good,” Y/N nods, a smile still on her lips, “I have to go now though, I have a few presents for my coworkers I need to wrap and some last minute phone calls to make to get things all set for tomorrow,” Y/N explains, taking a few slow steps backwards while her eyes are still glued to Harry’s.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Harry says, his smile never flattening either.

“Yes,” Y/N nods, her stomach in a fit of butterflies as she realizes that she really just invited him to her work party.

Turning on her heels, she hears Harry close his door, and walks to her own apartment to unlock the door. She did it, she’s going to be bringing Harry to a work function - this was kinda big, she realizes, but she’s too excited to worry right now. So, instead she turns on her Christmas playlist on her TV, after she steps out of her shoes and hangs up her coat, and sings along as she sets up her little workstation to wrap a few presents.

Y/N has been running around like a chicken with their head chopped off all day. She was determined to have this holiday party be perfect. Harry was her plus one, she imagined things going so well between the two of them tonight. But then things started to go south the moment she walked into the office this morning and Amanda bombarded her at the front doors, “we were double booked” she had told Y/N. Turns out their location for their party tonight was double booked and the other function had already paid off the business to let them have the space. Therefore having Y/N scrabbling for a place to have this party.

“We should just have it here,” Sammy suggested. 

It was a last resort suggestion, but in reality it could work. The building their office was in had a decent sized room that was used for conferences and such. And after calling the building staff they learnt it wasn’t being used, so they started working on getting that set up.

Y/N was on the phone for hours, making sure the catering and bar services company they hired knew the relocation, and having them show up on time to get the set up going too. Then she was downstairs to help the decorations team replan their set up before she was literally running down the streets to the Target in order to buy new table clothes that would fit the tables the building provided. And somehow, with a little blood and sweat and a few tears shed too, Y/N made it happen.

She lets out a loud deep breath and looks at the room around her. The shimmering lights hanging down from the ceiling, perfectly placed so they wouldn’t hit anyone in the head but still looking very dreamy. There’s one wall full of fresh wreaths, some huge and some small, with matching red ribbons and ornaments on them. It’s picture perfect and Y/N already had taken a short video of them as they were setting it up to post on her Instagram. The way the plain white tablecloths she had bought earlier were now styled with more fresh pine that was used for the wreaths, with a few candles on each table and more red Christmas ornaments too, it all just looked so good. She especially loved the large real Christmas tree that she and Sammy took the time to decorate that sat in the far corner of the room by the gorgeously decorated bar that stretches along the back wall. Overall, it’s fashionable, Instagram worthy, and perfect.

Y/N is about to tell someone hired for the event to add a few more beaded garlands around the entryway when her phone rings. She gives the young woman a smile and holds up a finger while producing her phone that’s in her jean pocket. Looking at the screen she sees Harry’s name at the top, which causes a flutter of butterflies in her stomach. She smiles and swipes a finger across the screen to answer his call.

“Hey,” she says, walking away from the people that are rushing around her to finalize the party.

“Hey,” Harry breathes out. Y/N can hear the nerves in the one word. She furrows her brows and begins to worry that maybe he can’t make it anymore, suddenly feeling very upset at the thought. “You’re late,” he states. Y/N’s brows pinch together further and her eyes narrow.

“What?” She questions.

“Well, it’s almost six, and you’re supposed to help me pick something to wear, but I understand if you can’t or don’t want to. I’m sure I can figure something out, but don’t want to make you look bad by bringing a badly dressed bloke to your party,” Harry explains, catching himself sounding a bit needy. He didn’t need her to help style him for the holiday party, but he wanted her opinion of course.

“Oh my god what time is it?” Y/N gasps, asking Harry the question but really more asking herself as she realizes time has slipped by her in the whirlwind that was relocating this party.

“Um, quarter to six,” Harry tells her.

“Shit, H, I’m sorry, I haven’t looked at a clock in hours, I’m still at my office. We had to work fast and relocate the party for tonight, I’ve been so busy I didn’t even realize,” Y/N explains, her eyes searching around the room for either Amanda or Sammy or really anyone that could take over for her to hurriedly get ready.

“Oh, it’s okay, not a problem really,” Harry says, tapping a pen on the notebook that’s in front of him. He had been caught up a bit with his own work too, writing a song.

“Okay,” Y/N sighs, “game plan, you can send me pictures of some things you can wear tonight, I’ll give you my opinion, and then I’ll get ready here and are you okay to meet me in the lobby at seven-thirty?” Y/N asks, finally locking eyes with Amanda across the room.

Amanda’s eyes are wide at the sight of her, arms thrown up into the air as she’s confused as to why Y/N is still here - Y/N may have told her she had to meet up with her new plus one. Amanda was just as excited to meet Harry as Sammy was, damn gossiper had gone and told Amanda all about Y/N and Mark’s breakup and about Harry now too. Y/N had glared at Sammy as Amanda asked a million questions about Harry earlier.

“Okay,” Harry nods, “I can do that, did you need me to bring you anything or are you all set at your office?”

Y/N smiles at Harry naturally asking her if she needed anything from him. “I’m good, I’ll just text you the address and let me know when you’re on the way, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry echoes.

“Okay, I have to go, I’ll see you soon,” she says. Harry says a goodbye before she hangs up the phone just as Amanda is walking up to her.

“What in the world are you still doing here? I thought you were supposed to leave like an hour ago to go get ready and meet up with your new man?” Amanda questions. She is dressed for tonight's festivities, wearing a sparkling silver gown that fit her like a glove. Her hair is out of it’s usual low ponytail and is pin straight. She looks amazing, of course.

“First,” Y/N points a finger, “not my new man, by any means. And second, I got caught up helping with some issues with catering and then I was fixing some lighting issues. I’m going upstairs to get ready, and Harry is meeting me here,” she tells Amanda.

“Go, go,” she shoos her off, “steal a good dress from that room of broken dreams.”

Amanda is referring to the small room upstairs in their office that holds many pieces from over the year that clients didn’t fit, didn’t like, or just simply didn’t get to see. Y/N nods, having already planned to go there, and rushes away to get upstairs and get ready. As she opens the door to the room full of clothing Harry texts her a few pictures of items in his closet he has for tonight.

Her eyes are glued on her screen, attention taken away from her finding something the moment she sees Harry’s name. There’s a black suit laid on his bed in the first picture, the idea of seeing him in a classic black suit and tie has her feeling some type of way, but it’s not the look for tonight. She swipes to the next photo and likes the cream and light blue vertical stripe button up shirt but not the deep purple trousers he paired with them. But in the next picture she really likes the fun look to the trousers, like a sort of grandpa’s sweater vibe with browns and whites in an interesting square pattern. Completely ignoring the black shirt he had paired with it, she texts him back.

Shirt from the second pic and pants from the third one! Trust me! Lol. And here’s the address, she types quickly, sending him her location, before pocketing her phone and turning to the first rack of clothing. Immediately she grabs for a light blue Gucci suit jacket. It would go with Harry’s outfit perfectly, she thinks with a smile, putting it to the side for him. She remembers the suit was too big for a certain younger actor who was hosting SNL last week, Timothee something or another, if she’s remembering correctly.

Y/N goes through what feels like is a hundred dresses, pantsuits, and everything in between before she finds the one she likes. It’s her size, thank god, and isn’t too shimmery and crazy like she feels everyone else will be dressed like. It’s a bit of a darker blue that the colour of the suit jacket she had pulled aside for Harry, with thin straps and a tight torso that had wires for under his boobs for a built in bra type of look. It ends just above her ankles and is embroidered with beautiful beads and stunning flowers and leaf designs. But with a bit of a scandalous look as the embroidery isn’t as crowded near the bottom of the dress and leaves her in a sheer fabric. Overall, she just really enjoys how it looks and feels - and truthfully, she can’t be too picky with such little time to finish getting ready now.

It works out perfectly as she looks over herself in the washroom on the main level, fluffing her hair that she had curled and touching up her makeup, Harry texts that he’s just about to walk inside. Hurrying through out of the washroom, she walks out into the lobby, the black heels she had taken from the heap of shoes upstairs click along the floor as she waves hello and smiles at the people around that she knows. There would be just over a hundred people in attendance for their party tonight, not too big but not too small either, and she was happy to see all the familiar faces she’s gotten to work with over the year. But, there is one face in particular she’s most happy to see.

Only Harry’s not alone. In fact, she shouldn’t be all that surprised to see her best friend had managed to single him out in the small crowd that was waiting to get into the conference room she’s spent all day setting up. She sighs and makes her way towards them, smiling at another colleague that gave her a quick compliment as she passed by. Sammy caught her eye first, noticing how she’s glaring at him but he only smirks back at her.

Then Harry shifts, looking over his shoulder at whatever Sammy is looking at, and he pauses at the sight of Y/N only a few feet away. Holy shit, Harry thinks to himself as he takes in how she looks. The dress fits her flawlessly, accentuating her curves and causing Harry to shamelessly check her out. She’s always beautiful, stunning really, but tonight she looks like she should be a runway model. He feels a bit underdressed beside her, even though she picked out his outfit, even just a jacket would make him feel a little less casual at this event.

“You look,” Harry pauses as he struggles to find the right word. Y/N has stopped now in front of him, hands fiddling with her small clutch resting in front of her. “Just, unbelievable, wow,” Harry finally breathes out. His words cause a warm blush to creep over his face, her eyes falling to the floor to catch his black boots on his feet, as she hides away her grin.

“You look really good, too,” she tells him, although her words are far less swoon worthy than his words. It still causes Harry to smile too, his stomach doing a few flips.

“And how do I look?” Sammy asks jokingly, breaking their moment as they both turn to look at him. He’s smirking and holding out both arms, showing off his sparkling gold suit jacket that he’s worn with some black tight suit pants and a black button up shirt. He looks good, obviously, but Y/N shoulders shake as she chuckles at her friends behaviour.

“You look marvellous,” Harry compliments him with a smile, Y/N looks at Harry and shakes her head.

“Oh, he’s good,” Sammy notes, pointing a finger at Harry but is looking at Y/N. “If you don’t keep him I’ll take him, like that little feeling I get in my stomach when he speaks, hm,” he hums, winking at Harry for good measure too. Both Harry and Y/N chuckle at her friend. Suddenly someone is calling for Sammy’s attention, and of course, he answers to it right away and leaves Y/N and Harry to themselves.

“I’m sorry about him,” Y/N says as they face each other once more, “Sammy can be a lot to handle,” she adds.

“He wasn’t that bad,” Harry assures her.

She hums and smiles, narrowing her eyes at him playfully. “I find that hard to believe, but alright,” she says, “oh! I have something for your outfit,” she mentions, grabbing his arm gently to guide the way to the building's front desk where they had set up a coat check.

Harry’s in his own head about how she so naturally grabbed onto him, her delicate hand wrapped around his arm before dropping down to her side again as she approached the line that was for coat check. He furrows his brows, confused if she was going to ask for the jacket he had brought with him, but instead he watches as she walks around the tables and helps herself to the rack of jackets. She pulls out a light blue suit jacket and smiles over it at him, watching as his eyes widen. He knows the jacket, it was a part of Gucci’s line last season. He had browsed through some Vogue article and loved the colour immediately, how did she know?

“It’s just sitting upstairs, unworn, and it deserves some attention,” Y/N explains, holding it out for him.

“I can just wear this, tonight? No fee?” Harry asks, finding this situation a little unreal honestly.

“Well,” Y/N gives him a smug smile, “how about your fee is a dance with me, later,” she bargains.

“Oh, there will be plenty of dancing, of course,” Harry says. He takes the suit jacket off the hanger, passing the empty hanger back to Y/N and then puts on the jacket. Shrugging his shoulders a few times to get it to sit right on his body, but boy does it ever fit him well. Like it was made for him, honestly. Cause my god does it ever look good on him, Y/N thinks as she watches him straighten out the jacket till it feels comfortable. Harry looks up to see Y/N staring at him, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. He smirks, dimples popping up for show, and it causes Y/N to snap out of it and turn to put the hanger away. She then takes the few steps forward to Harry and smiles while looking up at him.

“You look phenomenal,” Y/N tells him, upping her previous compliment from before. Harry’s heart swells at her words and he extends his bent arm, for her to hold onto his forearm.

“Shall we?” Harry asks, motioning for her to grab onto his arm and walk into the now open doors to her party.

“We shall,” she smiles and puts her hand on his arm to let him guide them into the party she spent all day preparing. Y/N can’t help but notice the looks the people around them are giving her, a few smirks from other girls - with obvious jealousy on their faces. It makes her head spin, realizing that she’s about to be the talk of the office all because of the hot guy on her arm. Little do they know, he’s a lot more than how good he looks in this light blue suit jacket.

It only takes an hour before the rest of the people at the party realize that Harry is more than that pretty face of his.

He charms the socks off of every single person she introduces him to. Not to mention that Sammy is basically attached to his hip, begging for the attention, and Amanda has given Y/N a thumbs up every chance she’s gotten. Which she’s currently doing from the sidelines of the dance floor as Y/N is dancing around with Sammy, Harry and a few others now a few hours into the party. Y/N chuckles, the few tequila drinks making her feel a bit giggly, as she throws her head back and sways to the music. Harry’s watching her, admiring how carefree she looks as she dances to the music. Not an ounce of worry of any judgement from her coworkers around her.

“Y/N,” a colleague of hers comes up, putting a hand on her arm to get her full attention. She smiles as she meets her eyes. “Merry Christmas love, I’m going to head out with my husband, who very much loves your new boyfriend by the way,” she explains, mirroring Y/N’s smile. Harry is distracted, dancing with Sammy, and thankfully doesn’t hear her comment.

“Oh! He’s not my boyfriend,” she informs her, for probably the third time tonight. But her older colleague, Heidi, is rather forgetful when she has a few glasses on wine - something she’d learnt over the few years of working together. “Also, I have a present for you, just wait here and I’ll go get it and be right back I promise,” Y/N assures her, giving her a pout for good measure.

Heidi sighs but is still smiling, “fine, I’ll wait,” she nods.

Y/N is walking passed Harry, causing him to pinch his brows together and reach out for her. Through the night they didn’t leave each other's side, even when one of them had to use the washroom they let each other know. His hand is gentle, grasping onto her arm as she’s about to walk away, and pulling her to look his way. Y/N matches his look of confusion but smiles at the little pout on Harry’s lips at the sight of her leaving the dance floor without him.

“Where are you going?” He asks, bending his head down closer to her. His breath is warm against the skin, his lips mere inches from her ear. A chill falls over her as she looks back into his enchanting eyes.

“Upstairs, I need to grab something,” she states.

“Oh,” Harry pauses, “okay,” he says, still looking into her eyes. They were so beautiful, she’s so beautiful.

“Did you want to come with me?” Y/N asks. She doesn’t know why she does, maybe because she doesn’t want to leave Harry’s side for a single second or maybe her buzz from the tequila is making her brave. She imagines some alone time with Harry for the first time tonight would be nice.

Harry nods and slowly lets his hand drop from her arm to her hand. Their fingers intertwining like it's natural, ignoring the wide eyed look from Sammy, and Y/N leads the way out of the room and into the lobby. Harry thinks she’ll drop his hand once they reach the elevator but she doesn’t. It’s like a volcano of butterflies has erupted in his stomach. Feeling bold, he brushes the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand a few times as he inhales her sweet smelling perfume as she stands so close to him while waiting for the elevator doors to open.

Every moment they’ve had together tonight has been amazing, the same longing looks and full smiles between them but were always surrounded by others. Seems Y/N is rather popular at her place of work, everyone wants to hang around her and he’s been introduced to more people than he can count. Although Y/N did whisper in his ear “Sammy and Amanda are the only ones you really need to remember”, thankfully. But he really is having a good time as they enjoyed a quick meal at the beginning of the night, talking amongst the people at their table, then when that was finished up the wine was replaced with harder alcohol and things got pretty wild. Turns out these New Year City fashion obsessed people knew how to party and it wasn’t all gossip and trends with them. Harry was finding himself laughing, dancing and feeling more free than he had in quite a while. And maybe the tequila drinks he’s been sipping was helping, as he actually ended up liking Y/N’s drink of choice.

“Everyone loves you,” Y/N states, breaking the silence just as the elevator opens and they step inside. Harry smirks and lets her step up to hit the button inside, using her free hand as they still are holding each other. Their hands hang in the air as she steps forward, hitting the button, and then steps back to be right beside him.

“Glad my charm could be of use to impress your coworkers,” Harry says, making Y/N smile but rolls her eyes as she squeezes his hand that still holds her. They’re holding hands! Don’t freak out! Y/N is internally screaming at herself.

“Cheeky,” Y/N teases, using his word back at him finally. Although all those times he’s texted her ‘cheeky’ or ‘cheeky girl’ she does get butterflies in her stomach.

“Oh really?” Harry questions, huffing out a chuckle while raising his eyebrows.

Y/N laughs and Harry pulls on her hand that he’s holding to bring her even closer to him. Their sides touch, her bare arm brushing against the suit jacket, and she swore a spark of electricity shot through them as they were now leaning against one another. She looks from their feet, toe to toe, to how her bent knee just barely strokes against his pants, then looking at their conjoint hands - Harry still rubbing his thumb against her warm skin every once in a while - all the way up to meet Harry’s eyes. His face is so close, only a few inches away from hers. Y/N’s breath gets caught in her throat, her lips parting as she inhales slowly while looking into Harry’s eyes. Are they about to kiss? Both Harry and Y/N’s thoughts are swarming with the idea of their lips pressing together and sharing their first kiss right here, right now in this elevator-

A sudden ding! causes them to blink out of whatever trance they were in. Y/N turns her head to watch the doors open onto her office floor, only a few dim lights are kept on during the night hours so it looks a bit different than during the day. Harry’s only watching her though. Taking in every inch of her lips. The curve of her cupids bow, the pout of her bottom lip. How good the red lipstick still looks even hours later since their night has gone on. Oh how he wants to mess up that red colour, smearing it with his own lips, he’s in his head with many thoughts as Y/N tugs on his hand to bring them out of the elevator and into the main area of the office.

She has to let go of Harry’s hand to enter in the code to the main doors for their office that are frosted glass, beside the large desk that their secretary answers calls and logs in clients entering for any appointments. The sleek look from the large frosted glass doors and all white marble flooring and white desk compliments the big block letters of their company name that have neon lights behind it. Currently the colours were red and green, glowing with full holiday cheer as Y/N loved so much.

Harry’s watching Y/N, her slight sway to her body as she pushes open the door and holds it open for Harry to walk through. He nods and smiles, then let's Y/N lead the way. While her office floor is all very exciting and professional, he’s more focused on Y/N. She’s talking about how she had bought some gifts for her coworkers and got so busy today she forgot a few. Harry was in awe of her and how she managed to pull off the relocation of this party so quickly. Amanda and many others were praising her all night, which Y/N would only respond by shaking her head and brushing off their kind words. He admires that about her a lot, how she is confident but doesn’t let people’s praises go to her head by any means.

As Y/N is walking across the room to her desk, something catches Harry’s eye. He pauses, double checks that Y/N isn’t watching him, and then leans over to the bulletin board at some random desk. With one swift movement he rips it off and then quickly stuffs it into the pocket of his jacket before he turns around to find Y/N at what he assumes is her desk. It’s a large white desk, up against the floor to ceiling windows, it’s quite the view - but, again, his eyes are only on her.

“Okay, so this one’s for Heidi, and then this one is for her and her husband,” Y/N is rambling aloud as she reaches under her desk for the few last presents she had. The only other one was for Sammy, so she should bring it down with her too to catch him before either of them leaves.

She stands up straight again, putting the presents on the desk when she looks over her shoulder at Harry. He’s staring, which isn’t new, but it still makes her smile and her head to spin knowing that his eyes always seem to be on her. But it’s the mischievous smile across his lips that brings Y/N to a stop, pinching her eyebrows together as she tilts her head to the side.

“What’s with the look?” Y/N asks, getting right to the point.

Harry raises a brow and jokingly says, “what look?”

Y/N just rolls her eyes and hums, pushing her hair over one shoulder as she turns her body towards Harry. She crosses her arms over her chest and Y/N doesn’t miss how his eyes drop to her movements for a split second before meeting her eyes again. She feels like she’s on fire under his stare, the burn so deep within her only blazing when he licks his lips. This is it, this is the moment, Harry thinks before he can second guess himself. He takes a step forward, standing so close to Y/N that the toes of their shoes touch and she has to look up into his piercing stare now.

Y/N notices him reach into his pocket, and then just as quickly, he takes his hand out and holds it above them. She furrows her brows, looking up to see something green between his fingers. Her heart stops, her breath getting caught in her throat as she inspects the item more. But when Harry clears his throat, her attention falls back into him. His beautiful green eyes look a bit nervous, it’s adorable, Y/N thinks.

“Can I kiss you underneath the mistletoe, Y/N?” Harry asks, his voice in that now familiar and warm low tone.

Y/N is pretty sure Harry can hear her heart beating out of her chest right now. She stares back into his eyes, feelings for this man hitting her like a wrecking ball. Y/N has never felt something so strong for someone before. And Harry standing here, holding mistletoe, asking to kiss her, it by far one of the most romantic things ever. Unsure she can find her voice, Y/N settles with nodding her head twice and never letting her eyes fall off Harry’s. His lips turn ever so slightly upwards, smiling, before he takes a deep breath and leans forward and both their eyes flutter shut as the moment they both have dreamt of is becoming a reality.

When their lips finally touch it feels like time itself stops around them. Like no one else or nothing else matters in the world but them in this moment right here. Y/N’s heart hasn’t settled one bit, and her knees feel weak as Harry’s free hand gently touches her hip to steady them both. She tries to ignore the touch and instead focus on how soft his lips feel against hers. The feeling flares the burn she feels around him and only amplifies at how addicting his kiss is.

But it was clear, Y/N and Harry both could never dream up a kiss was perfect as this one. Harry’s pure raw emotion that he feels as he decides to pull back from the kiss, to look at Y/N with his eyes only half open, he just had to make sure he wasn’t imagining any of this. But she’s just as beautiful with her swollen lips and half open dreamy eyes as he had thought.

This time Y/N pulls Harry down by wrapping both arms around his shoulders, nudging his head down to meet her halfway and get lost in their kissing again. Harry now is clenching the plastic mistletoe in one hand while both his hands curl up at her hips. With every second, every smell of her rose perfume filling his nose, he’s sure he’ll wake from this dream at any time. The twisting in both their stomachs don’t settle as the kiss continues, Y/N’s lips parting slightly as she breathes out a small gasp when they both pull each other even closer.

Their bodies are basically molding into one, Y/N’s hair falling into their face as she tugs him even closer if it’s possible. But Harry quickly reacts and brings the hand without the mistletoe up, carding his fingers through her locks and bringing the hair away from their moving lips before he rests his hand on her cheek. The only reason that they both pull apart the second time is because they need air - both their chests are heaving against one another as they struggle to catch their breath.

Y/N could never describe the sensations she was feeling in the fleeting second after their kiss. She opens her eyes, looking at Harry’s chest as it rises and falls in quick motions, before she slowly raises her gaze. There’s a pit in her stomach, feeling a bit nervous to meet his eyes after such a passionate kiss. So she takes her time, her eyes scanning over Harry’s face. His sharp jaw, clenching as he watches her. She smiles at the sight of her red lipstick just faintly smudging against his own lips. Finally, she lifts her eyes and meets his stare.

“Amazing,” Harry breathes out, his breath fanning over her lips.

“Breathtaking, actually,” Y/N corrects him, lifting her lips into a bit of a cheeky smile. Harry huffs out a chuckle and smiles, squeezing her side as he lets his hand drop from her face. He seems like he might step away, but Y/N doesn’t want their little bubble to burst quite yet. So she pouts and rubs her thumb over the side of his neck slowly. “Kiss me again, please,” she says in a soft voice.

“Always, darling,” Harry tells her and brings both his hands up to cup her face, tilting her head back just slightly in order to place his lips over hers again. Their kiss only last for another moment before Y/N gets a sudden prick to her cheek, causing her to break away and furrow her brows.

“What the-?” Y/N pauses as she takes Harry's hand and uses her fingers to pry back his own. A giggle passes her lips as the sight inside his hand. She takes the plastic green leaves and red berries. Rolling her lips into her mouth, she tries to hold back the laughter bubbling inside of her.

“What?” Harry questions, letting Y/N take the mistletoe out of his hand.

“Harry,” she sighs and looks up at him, “this is holly, not mistletoe,” she explains. It’s a common misconception, truly, but it only makes the moment they just had all that more special.

Harry’s cheeks heat up instantly at her words. Pure embarrassment washing over him as he didn’t even realize his mistake. His whole big romantic gesture now in the ruins because they kissed underneath holly not mistletoe. Harry shakes his head and reaches for the holly in Y/N’s hand, but she moves faster and closes her hand around it - not caring that it pokes her palm. He is the one to pull together his eyebrows now, meeting her eyes.

“No, it’s okay,” she admits to him, placing the holly carefully on her desk without looking away from Harry’s eyes. “I don’t care that you made a common mistake, don’t beat yourself up about it,” she says, bringing her free hand to brush against his warm red cheeks. “It was-” she pauses and lets out a deep breath, “you’re perfect, H,” she says.

“No, you are,” he declares, meeting her halfway again to crash their lips together once more.

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until part 5 😘

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[pregnant-piggy]

Snow

Remus Lupin x reader      part of the dad!marauders series

Words: 6.5k

A/N: this is the most fluffy thing i have ever written. I am so happy with this. Also, re-introducing Olivia in this fic, whom we have seen before in Butterflies. She’s back because i absolutely love her and y’know for the sake of the story... Anyway, I hope you like it! Comments much appreciated! Love ya

Dinner was silent without you. The table set for two instead of three made the air in the room miss some of that cosiness you always brought along. The small light from the lamp over the dining table was reflected on the silver forks and knives that lied on the table. Two glasses with water stood next to the white plates, waiting to be emptied.

You were gone for the weekend with your mother. Your father had gotten sick a few months ago and now he was finally better, you had wanted your mother to be able to take her mind off things. You had taken her to a spa, something she always enjoyed.

This morning you had left and Olivia had been in a sad mood ever since you had stepped foot out the door. Though she went to play and acted like everything was fine, Remus could see that she wasn’t really. He was surprised with how well she could keep up that happy mask; she was only four years old after all.

Olivia sat in her own chair, that her grandpa had made specially for her. She stared at the back of her dad in the kitchen, her eyes focused on his shoulders and the way they moved to the music he had put on. She played with the stuffed wolf in her hand, the animal that had been with her since she was one year old. The colours had faded lightly in the past three years as if it had lied in the sun for a while. The grey was no longer the dark grey it used to be and the softness was now gone. But Olivia had it with her at all times.

‘Five more minutes, darling,’ Remus said and he sat down at the table in front of his daughter.

Olivia continued to play with her wolf and Remus felt a familiar, warm feeling spreading in his body. You had given the stuffed animal to her on her first birthday. Though your daughter didn’t know the real reason behind the gift, Remus did and his heart softened every time he saw Olivia play with it.

The oven pinged and Remus shot up from his chair. He was hungry; he had worked later than usual forgetting that you weren’t around to remind him to make dinner. It had been Olivia who had opened the door of his library and asked him when dinner was going to be ready.

A frozen pizza, that Remus had found at the bottom of the freezer, had been put in the oven quickly.

Olivia was quiet during dinner. She stared at her plate and picked the mushrooms of her pizza with her little fingers. The little ring that used to be yours glimmered in the light. She always wore that even when she was asleep. Sometimes Remus worried that it could hurt her in her sleep, but you always reassured him that nothing could happen.

‘Don’t you like the pizza?’ Remus asked carefully, knowing the littlest thing could upset his daughter; something she had gotten from you.

‘I do,’ Olivia sighed and dropped her slice of pizza on her plate.

‘What’s wrong, baby?’

‘I miss mommy,’ Olivia said, her voice soft and the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

Remus got up from his chair and kneeled down next to Olivia. He put both his arms around her and allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder. His big hand rubbed her warm back and he felt a few tears through his shirt.

‘Oh, Liv,’ Remus spoke softly. ‘Mommy will be home Sunday. Don’t you want to tell her how much fun you have had with daddy?’

Olivia snuffed into Remus’ shoulder and nodded. She lifted her head from his neck and looked at him. He wiped the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs and placed a kiss on her forehead, like he used to do to you when you were sad. Olivia smiled and she turned back to her plate, eating the pizza with a small grin, while she talked to the stuffed animal that sat next to her on a chair.

Remus sat back in his chair and watched his daughter. She truly was the light in his life. He could not imagine a life without her, without her bubbly presence and her cute smiles or her giggles.

The rest of the night Olivia wasn’t sad anymore. It was Friday night so that meant that she could stay up a little later than usual. While she sat in Remus’ lap, her eyes were glued to the TV. A lousy talent show played on the screen, while Remus read his book and tried to answer Olivia’s questions at the same time.

It was nice to have some alone time with his daughter. Though it happened enough that he was alone with her, it rarely was a whole weekend. Usually it was you who was alone with Olivia, whenever Remus was away at the full moon.

Remus knew Olivia’s personality through and through; he had had years of practice with you. Your daughter was the exact copy of you to Remus. She had Remus’ eyes and hair, but the rest of her was just like you. The same nose, the same lips and the same way you smacked them when you didn’t like something. You both could act crazy in the same way and Olivia’s laugh was the same as yours.

‘Daddy?’ Olivia asked and Remus looked up from his book. Olivia had turned around between his legs and was looking at him with her big eyes. ‘What are you reading?’

Remus opened his arm so Olivia could rest against his chest and started to talk about the book he was reading, glad that it wasn’t such a complicated book. Olivia listened with interest and asked more questions. You always said that Olivia was just as a nerd as Remus and though Remus always debated the term ‘nerd’, he knew that you were right. His daughter was a smart little girl and she was interested in a great deal of things.

It wasn’t until Olivia yawned that Remus realised how late it was. He quickly closed his book and placed it on the couch while he took Olivia in his arms. He walked with her through the cold hallway and up the stairs, wondering why it was suddenly so cold.

While Olivia attempted to brush her own teeth, Remus looked for her pyjamas. He found them on her pillow neatly folded and a little note from you with a heart on it on top of them. He took the clothes and placed the note back on the pillow. With the pyjamas in his arms he walked to the bathroom, where he found Olivia on the floor with her toothbrush in her mouth, while she brushed the mouth of her stuffed wolf with another toothbrush, luckily without toothpaste.

Remus chuckled and sat down next to her. He took her small face on one hand and asked her to open her mouth so he could brush her teeth with the other hand. Olivia sang the how to brush your teeth song and Remus laughed when she accidentally bit on the toothbrush.

When he was done he helped her rinse her mouth and then he helped her into her pyjamas. Olivia shivered when her warm sweater was pulled over her head and she was left in her underwear. She crossed her arms over her body and Remus didn’t fail to notice the goose bumps all over her skin. He quickly warmed the pyjamas with a quick wave of his wand and Olivia stared at the wooden stick with her big eyes. Magic wasn’t new to her at all, you and Remus had both agreed to let your daughter get used to it while also fitting in with the muggle world, but every time she saw it her eyes lit up. She seemed to have forgotten about the cold as she asked Remus to do something.

‘Do the bubbles!’ she exclaimed and she clapped her hands in excitement as Remus casted bubbles to fly around in the small bathroom.

Once Olivia lied in bed and Remus had read her a bedtime story, she closed her eyes and fell asleep promptly. It had been a long day for her; this morning she had woken up early and it was late at night now.

Remus pressed a kiss to her head and tucked her in once again, making sure she would not get cold. Not that it would help, his daughter turned so much in her sleep that it was inevitable that the sheets would lose their embrace around her.

- - - - -

The cold night even reached to Remus when he lied in bed. He had his sweater on and even woollen socks, but his toes were still cold and he couldn't suppress a shiver every time he moved under the duvet. He couldn’t fall asleep. He didn’t know that was because it was cold or because you weren’t next to him. He had gotten so used to falling asleep with your arms around him, that it was hard to do so when you weren’t around. No matter how tired he was, he just couldn’t catch any sleep.

So instead he just lied with his eyes closed in his bed, the sheets pulled up to under his chin. It had been cold this winter, but not this cold yet. With a little luck there would maybe even be some snow tomorrow. Then he would have something to do with Olivia.

The little girl loved the snow. It didn’t happen very often that there was snow, the last time had been last year and then it was only for two days. It might have been the happiest days of Olivia’s winter. The big smile that was on her face, Remus could clearly remember.

He didn’t when he had started to drift off, but he was woken roughly by a tug on his duvet. He turned his head to see what was going on and he was faced with Olivia’s teared eyes. Immediately he sat up in his bed and pulled his daughter against his chest. She sobbed lightly in his sweater. He wrapped his arms around her and hid her cold feet under the blanket after feeling they were like ice.

‘What is wrong, love?’ Remus whispered as he placed a kiss on the top of Olivia’s head.

‘I miss mommy so bad,’ she said with a trembling voice and she hugged her wolf closer to her little chest. ‘And I’m cold.’

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ Remus mumbled. He lied back down and placed Olivia next to him. He pulled the sheets up to her chin and he wrapped his arm around her. She crawled closer to his chest and lied her head next to him on his pillow.

They lied in silence for a while, the only sound the soft sobs of Olivia, that calmed down more and more. Remus wiped away the tears from her face and rubbed her back, hoping to warm her up a little. He felt the fatigue taking over him, but he had to stay awake at least until Olivia had fallen asleep.

But Olivia did not seem to have any plans to fall asleep soon. She stared with her big eyes at Remus, who had more trouble to keep his eyes open with the minute.

‘Go to sleep, Liv,’ he mumbled and stroke his big hand over her face so she would close her eyes.

But she opened them again and now started to play with the neck of Remus’ sweater. Her little fingers ran up and down over the hem and tucked on it ever so often. Remus chuckled lightly and took her hand in his. She looked up to him and he closed his eyes for a second.

‘Close your eyes, love,’ Remus tried again and now Olivia closed her eyes, but she opened one slightly and looked at Remus. A giggle escaped her mouth as Remus sighed and shook his head. ‘Come on, Olivia! If you go to sleep now we can play in the snow tomorrow.’

Remus had said the magic words. Olivia’s eyes widened and she stared at Remus.

‘Snow? Is there snow?’ she asked excitedly.

‘There will be if you go to sleep now,’ Remus said placing a kiss on Olivia’s forehead.

She closed her eyes and soon she drifted off to sleep. Her steady breaths filled the cold bedroom and Remus finally let the sleep take over him. He knew he should carry Olivia to her own bed, but he was too tired to do so. So instead he fell asleep with his daughter hugging onto his chest, listening to his heartbeat as she dreamt of the snow.

- - - - -

As the morning sun shone through the crack between the curtains, Remus woke up with two small hands hugging his waist. He carefully removed the two hands and placed them on the stuffed wolf that lied at Olivia’s feet. He lifted the duvet a little, enough so he could slip from it and tucked it around his daughter’s small figure. He walked out of the bedroom and went to the kitchen, hoping that pancakes would make Olivia forget that her mother wasn’t around.

Soft music played through the kitchen as Remus began to make the pancakes. He was stirring the bowl when he heard soft footsteps into the kitchen. He turned around and smiled at Olivia, who stood in the doorframe clinging onto her stuffed wolf as she watched Remus with her big eyes. She slowly made her way over to her chair and as she climbed into it and dropped the wolf, she sighed dramatically. Remus couldn’t keep from chuckling, but quickly turned around and stopped as she saw the glare his daughter was giving him.

‘Do you want pancakes, Liv?’ Remus asked over his shoulder when Olivia had climbed into her chair.

Remus couldn’t see her face, since he was still bowed over the kitchen counter with his back to his daughter, but when she spoke he heard that there was a small smile on her pretty face.

‘Yes, daddy.’

Olivia climbed off her chair and ran towards Remus, hugging her arms around his legs. Remus had to hold onto the counter to not fall over at the sudden weight and he laughed softly, stroking his hand over Olivia’s head. She looked up to him with her big golden eyes and her precious smile. The smile that could make Remus do anything.

‘Here,’ Remus said and he gave to plates to Olivia. ‘Bring these to the table, while I make the pancakes.’

Olivia wobbled on her feet under the weight of the heavy plates. She placed the plates, what was for her, carefully on the table and then returned to Remus for a next task. Keeping one eye on the pancakes in the pan and the other on Olivia as she was setting the table, breakfast was soon finished.

Olivia was sitting in her chair, her knife and fork in her hands and the wolf on the chair next to her, like it had been at dinner last night. She was talking enthusiastically to it as Remus placed a platter with pancakes in between them. Olivia stopped talking as the scent of food reached her nose and a big smile appeared on her sleepy face when she saw the pancakes.

‘What do you want to do today?’ Remus asked in between bites.

‘Play in the snow!’ Olivia exclaimed and she looked over her shoulder through the window.

It had indeed snowed last night, just as Remus had thought. The street was hidden under a blanket of snow and the light blue sky that stretched out over the neighbour houses, made it seem like a little fairy tale and not the street they were living in. The edges of the window were frozen, little ice crystals making their way up to the middle of the glass.

Olivia kept staring outside, the piece of pancake on her fork staying in front of her mouth. She watched the old man that lived two houses away walk through the snow with his dog. The small animal jumped in the snow, barking happily when his legs disappeared in the snow. Olivia laughed happily and only turned back when the dog and owner had disappeared. Her pancakes had turned cold, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She wolfed the rest of her breakfast in and then looked up to her dad.

‘Done,’ she said, with her mouth full of food. She went to grab her glass with orange juice, while Remus took the last pancake on the plate. Olivia chewed fast on the pancake in her mouth, her hands clasped around the glass. She swallowed her last bite and drank her juice quickly.

‘Not too fast, you’ll get stomach ache,’ Remus said, looking at how the orange juice rapidly disappeared in his daughter’s mouth.

‘No, I won’t,’ Olivia said with her mouth still in her glass, shaking her head.

Remus sighed; he would never win this battle. Olivia was just as stubborn as you, though you always said that she had that from Remus. Maybe that said enough.

Olivia placed her glass back on the table and looked at Remus. He chuckled at the juice-moustache that had formed above her upper lip and reached over the table to wipe it away with his thumb.

‘Why don’t you pick out clothes, while daddy cleans up?’ Remus said, licking the orange juice off his finger.

Olivia fled quickly from the kitchen and Remus heard her stamping on the stairs. He collected the plates and glasses and put them in the sink, doubting whether he should do the dishes now or later. Later would be fine, he decided and left the kitchen, following his daughter’s tracks on the stairs.

- - - - -

‘Daddy look what I can do!’

Remus looked up from the bench at the front door. Olivia and him had gone outside now two hours ago and while Remus was more than done with the cold, he didn’t want to cut the fun Olivia was having. Remus hadn’t seen her this exited in a while and it warmed his heart to see his daughter with such a big smile on her face. She was jumping up and down, making snow angels in the snow and with the help of Remus she had made a snowman, who currently stood watching Olivia collect snow with her small hands and throw little snowballs at the tree in the front yard.

‘Good job!’ Remus said and he waved at Olivia as she hit the tree with her snowball.

Remus’ hands slowly had lost any feeling and the same was about to happen to his feet. He was sitting in his thickest coat on the wooden bench near the front door, a book in his hand that was long forgotten as he had noticed that Olivia was quite clumsy when it came to snow. She had fallen at least twelve times now and though it wasn’t like she had hurt herself, Remus was worried that one time she would. Besides, his fingers were too cold to even turn the pages.

After another half hour Remus thought that it had been enough. With any luck the snow would still be there tomorrow and then Olivia could play outside again. But right now Remus felt like he was made of ice and he knew that Olivia was cold too; in the small minutes that she had come to Remus to tell him something he had seen that her cheeks were getting more red and her lips more purple.

She didn’t even complain when Remus suggested they went inside for lunch and hot chocolate. She followed him back inside the warm house and sighed when the door was closed.

‘What is the matter?’ Remus asked as he took off his coat and then helped Olivia with hers.

‘Who is watching Mr. Snowman now?’ she pouted as Remus unzipped her dark blue winter coat.

‘Maybe you can look at him from the window in the living room,’ Remus said as he took of her mittens. Olivia jumped and nearly hit Remus in his face with her hands. He chuckled and bowed forward so she could lean on him while he took off her boots. Her cold hand grabbed the fabric on Remus’ sweater and the other was placed on his head when she lost her balance.

‘Left foot,’ Remus said and Olivia lifted her foot. He took off the boot and sock, that was completely wet. ‘Right foot.’ The other foot followed and the same happened. The bottom of Olivia’s leggings was wet too and Remus ordered her to take them off.

‘I’ll get you warm, dry clothes,’ he said, pulling a weird face as he smelled the sock, making Olivia laugh. ‘You go into the living room and see if Mr. Snowman is still there.’

Olivia ran off to the living room in her pink underwear and sweater and Remus quickly returned with warm pants and two different socks. Olivia was stuck at the window, her eyes focused on the snowman outside and she waved at it as if to say goodbye when Remus walked into the room.

‘I don’t know what mommy does with your socks, but I can’t find two the same,’ Remus sighed and he sat down next to Olivia on the couch. ‘Elephant on right or left?’

The girl put out her right foot and Remus put the sock on. The sock with the giraffe followed on her other foot and when the pants were put on Olivia ran back to the window, this time taking her wolf with her. Remus watched his daughter talk to her stuffed animal and admired how happy she looked. He never could have imagined to have a wife that loved him unconditionally let alone a daughter that was just as dear to him. Sometimes he wondered why he deserved it all, how could someone like him have such a happy bubble around him?

‘Do you want hot chocolate?’ Remus asked and Olivia turned around and cheered as she ran to the kitchen.

Remus followed her quickly and was surprised to find Olivia looking in the right cabinet. As she pulled out the cocoa and stood on her toes to place it on the counter, she started to babble to Remus about how you always made hot chocolate on the nights Remus was away.

- - - - -

The afternoon was filled with merry. Olivia played on her own for a while, until she wanted to know what Remus was reading. He took her in his lap and together they read a for a while. Though Olivia didn’t quite understood what the book was about, her reading was definitely improving.

Though Olivia would go to Hogwarts when she was older, Remus and you had wanted her to learn the basics, just like you two had done. You as a muggleborn and Remus as half-blood had both enjoyed the education of primary school. You wanted the same for your daughter. She was keen to learn and home school was discussed, but both you and Remus had a job and the option of going to a muggle school seemed the easier option. Plus, in that way Olivia could make friends better than when she was at home all day.

She was only four and would turn five in May, so she would not go to school until after the upcoming summer, but Remus had taken the job to teach her how to read. Luckily Olivia was a smart student and the reading went easily on her. It wasn’t much that she knew, she was yet so young, but Remus thought that every little bit would help her. And so, once a day, mostly before bed, he would read with her. It didn’t have to be long, just a page of her favourite book was enough.

After the reading, Olivia watched a film while Remus concentrated on the newspapers of this day, for which he hadn’t got the time to read yet. He was deep in an article about Gringotts new policy, when the phone ringed. Olivia was so concentrated on the talking bees from the movie that she didn’t hear it.

‘Remus here,’ Remus said and he walked to the kitchen, not wanting to disturb his daughter.

‘Hey Rem!’ your voice sounded back and Remus smiled.

‘Hey love. How is it going? Are you having fun?’

‘So much. Mom and I went to get massages this morning and we did face masks this afternoon. Oh, it is so nice here, Rem. We even have access to mimosas throughout the whole day!’ you giggled.

In the background Remus could hear your mother giggle along with you and he sniffed happily in the phone. ‘How many did you have?’

‘Just a couple,’ you said back, Remus hearing by your voice that it was definitely more than a couple. ‘How is it going at home? I heard it snowed.’

‘It did,’ Remus answered. ‘I spent the entire morning outside with Olivia and now she is watching a film. She did miss you last night, however.’

‘I miss her too. And you. I couldn’t sleep last night, though the mimosas did help a bit.’

‘I couldn’t sleep either. But we’ll see you tomorrow! Don’t worry about us, we are having fun, love,’ Remus said and he looked up when Olivia entered the kitchen. She stood hesitantly at in the doorway, her small hand resting on the door frame.

‘Who is that?’ she asked curious and tilted her head a little.

‘It’s mommy,’ Remus answered. ‘Do you want to talk to her?’

‘Mommy!’ Olivia yelled and she ran over to the phone. Remus put Olivia on the chair with the phone in her hand and then turned to the kitchen to make dinner. He listened to Olivia talk about the snowman she had made and the snowballs she had thrown at the tree.

After a while, Olivia gave the phone back to Remus after giving kisses to it. She ran back to the living room, probably to continue her film. Remus took back the phone and pressed it between his ear and his shoulder.

‘She seems to be having fun,’ you said and Remus could hear your smile through the phone.

‘I know that it isn’t how our weekends usually go, but she missed you and I couldn’t stand to see her sad.’

‘Don’t worry, dear, it’s fine.’

‘Listen, I have to finish dinner and you have to get back to your mom,’ Remus said and he put down the knife so he could take the phone in his hand. ‘I will see you tomorrow, don’t rush.’

‘Okay, I love you,’ you said.

‘I love you too.’

- - - - -

Olivia stood on a stool at the sink in the bathroom, watching herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. Remus stood behind her, brushing her wet hair. He had taken her in bath, hoping it would tire her a bit so she would fall asleep fast. And when he looked at her and saw her tired eyes, he realised that it had helped.

He put the brush aside and helped her brushing her teeth. She opened her mouth, but it closed more and more the longer it took and Remus had to ask her to open her mouth every time. She giggled when Remus reached the back of her mouth and the toothbrush tickled the back of her tongue. Her eyes squeezed shut and stayed there more a moment before she opened them again. Remus took the brush from her mouth and declared that it was enough for now.

In her room, Remus helped her into her warmest pyjamas, hoping that this time she wouldn’t wake up from the cold. In her pink with crocodiles pyjamas, Olivia pressed a wet kiss to Remus’ cheek and then lied down in her bed. He tucked her in tightly and her eyes closed as soon as the blankets were put over her. Remus brushed the hair out of her face and kissed her softly on her forehead. Olivia’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled at her father.

‘I love you, daddy,’ she mumbled.

‘I love you too, sweetheart,’ Remus whispered back.

Olivia put out her arms to take Remus in a hug and he leaned forward, his knees on the floor. Olivia’s small arms were wrapped around his neck and he felt her hot breath on his neck. He pulled back and placed a quick kiss on her nose. She giggled at the feeling and wiped her nose with her sleeve. Remus brushed his hand through her hair one more time and smiled at his daughter.

‘Goodnight, Olivia.’

Olivia closed her eyes and Remus left her room, keeping the door ajar so he could hear when she called for him. He went downstairs and looked at the mess in the living room. The worst part was that it was mostly his mess. Olivia had put her toys away in her toy box in the corner of the room. It was Remus’ mess that made the room look terrible. Two coffee mugs on the table, next to a few parchments and a book. On the couch lied the newspapers that he still hadn’t finished and pair of socks. The TV was still on and a dim light flickered into the room. On the desk in the corner of the room, was an even bigger mess. But Remus’ workspace was always a mess and no matter how often you asked him to clean it, he never did, knowing that it would be the same mess the minute he would start working.

So instead of being bothered by his desk, Remus cleared out the coffee table, turned off the TV and took his newspaper. He reread the article about Gringotts, since he had already forgotten what it was about, and realised that the rest of the paper was rather a lack of information.

Remus sat down at his desk, hoping to maybe get some work done. But his paper stayed empty, his mind was too tired to come up with a review now. The book he had to review lied in front of him and Remus studied the cover.

After fifteen minutes he gave up and placed himself with a cup of tea on the couch, zapping through the channels. He found a film and soon was involved in a plot of a murder, flight and criminals. The sounds of fighting sounded through the living room as Remus’ eyes were glued to the TV. Though Remus wasn’t a particular big fan of thriller movies, sometimes he could enjoy them. It was a hour or two of not thinking and just watching.

It was past midnight when the film finished with the ‘good guy’ killing the ‘bad guy’. Since the ‘bad guy’ only had killed one man, Remus wondered how good the ‘good guy’ was. He turned off the TV, turned down the lights and went upstairs.

He checked Olivia’s room and found his daughter fast asleep, her stuffed wolf in her hand and her hair around her like a halo. This was one of Remus’ favourite views. There was something so peaceful and innocent about his daughter in her sleep. It reminded him of you, the way she grabbed onto the sheets and the pucker on her lips.

Soon Remus lied in his own bed, looking through the crack between the curtains at the dark sky. It was clouded; the dark grey clouds hid the dark blue sky filled with stars. This was Remus favourite time of the month. The full moon had been two weeks ago, meaning he had yet two weeks before the next one would come. It also meant that at this moment there was no moon at all in the sky and something about that thought comforted Remus.

With his mind running off to the dark blue heavens, Remus fell asleep quickly, not bothered by the cold or your absence this night.

- - - - -

Sunday morning was spent in Remus’ bed. Olivia had crawled into your spot and she talked with her dad about what she had dreamt. Then she proceeded to wonder about Mr. Snowman and how he had slept. Remus chuckled as the listened to his daughter’s imaginary stories and closed his eyes for a moment.

‘Daddy, you’re not listening!’ Olivia cried out and she dropped her body on Remus’ chest to get him to open his eyes.

‘I am, Olivia, I am!’ he sputtered and he pushed Olivia off him.

‘Why were your eyes closed?’

‘I can listen and close my eyes at the same time,’ Remus defended himself.

Olivia sat cross-legged on the bed and shook her head with a serious look on her face. ‘Mommy says that when you close your eyes you’re not listening.’

Remus raised his eyebrow at his daughter and then burst out into laughter. He took Olivia in his arms and peppered her face with kisses. She started to giggle and tried to free herself from his grip. She squirmed in his arms and after a while Remus lessened his grip and she crawled away from him. Panting and laughing she sat at your pillow, staring at Remus with sparkly eyes.

‘Did it snow?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Remus answered; he hadn’t left his bed yet.

‘Can’t you look?’

‘I can look, but so can you.’

‘But I’m too small!’ Olivia exclaimed and a smirk crossed on her face.

Remus shook his head chuckling and he pulled the sheets of his body. Immediately the cold found its way to his warm body and he shivered. Quickly he put on his sweatpants and a different sweater. He helped Olivia off the bed and lifter her on his hip. She pulled the curtains aside and looked outside.

‘Snow!’ she exclaimed happily when she saw the white backyard. She pressed her nose to the glass and looked at the snow.

Remus put her down again and she ran to her room, taking the same clothes as yesterday and throwing them on Remus’ bed. She pulled her pyjamas over her head and struggled to put the sweater on herself. Remus sat down on his knees in front of her and guided her head through the hole. An enthusiastic head popped out from the neck of the sweater and Remus laughed before pressing a kiss to Olivia’s forehead.

‘Can I play outside? Please?’ she asked.

‘You can, but first we need to eat breakfast, darling,’ Remus said as he helped Olivia into her leggings.

She didn’t waste a minute and as soon as her sock were on, she rushed downstairs to the kitchen. Remus followed her and found her in the kitchen with the box of cereal in her hands. He took it from her and placed it on the table.

‘Go sit down.’

Olivia followed his order and sat down in her chair, for once haven forgotten her stuffed animal. She waited patiently for Remus to put down two bowls and give her a spoon. He put the cereal in her bowl and the milk followed after. She dove into her breakfast and spilled some milk on the table in doing so. Remus cleaned it with a flick of his wand and Olivia looked amazed at the now clean spot.

After breakfast Olivia ran outside and Remus had to call her back to put on her coat and mittens. As he zipped up the coat while Olivia was jumping up and down in her excitement to go outside, he said: ‘I am going to do the dishes, will you be careful?’

Olivia nodded and captured her dad’s mouth with a quick kiss before she hurried outside. Remus stood in the door and watched for a moment as Olivia started to dance around the snowman. After making sure nothing could happen to her, Remus turned back inside and put on the kettle as he charmed the dishes to do themselves. He glanced at today’s newspaper and then decided to take it outside.

With his tea in one hand and the newspaper under his arm, Remus sat down on the bench again, making a promise with himself not to stay out so long as yesterday. But his promise was soon forgotten as he watched Olivia play. He charmed his tea to stay warm so his fingers wouldn’t freeze this time.

Time passed quickly. Olivia was making snow angels in the snow and decorating them with things she found in the garden and Remus was reading the newspaper, that just like yesterday, had not much in it. His attention was pulled away from an article about illegal transport across the Atlantic Ocean by a creak of the fence. He looked up and was surprised to see you.

‘Mommy!’ Olivia cheered when she noticed her mother. She got up from her spot, where she had been on her knees drawing faces in her snow angel, and jumped in your arms. You dropped your bag and caught Olivia.

‘Liv, be careful with your mom,’ Remus said as he came closer.

You shifted Olivia over to the side and kissed Remus. He took your bag and brought you inside. Olivia was talking happily about what she had done this weekend and didn’t stop when you put her down and took off your coat.

‘Come on, darling, give mommy some time,’ Remus chuckled as he took of Olivia’s coat. ‘Why don’t you go to the kitchen and grab the things we need for the hot chocolate?’

Olivia smiled and ran to the kitchen, nearly slipping on her wet socks. Remus hung up her coat and then turned to you. He wrapped arms around you and you buried your face in his sweater.

‘I didn’t expect you so early,’ Remus said as you pulled away and took off your shoes.

‘It was this train or one later at night and actually we were both a bit done at the spa. So we decided to take the early train. I dropped mom off at home,’ you said as you walked with Remus to the kitchen.

There you found Olivia proudly standing in front of the counter. She had the cocoa in her hands and was waiting for Remus to help her. He lifted her and placed her on the counter. Together they made the hot cocoa while you sat at the dining table and talked about your trip.

When the hot chocolate was done and all three of you were sitting at the table, Olivia continued to talk about her weekend. Remus smiled at her and nodded along. He looked at you and you glanced back with a smile on your face. It was good to be home.

- - - - - 

taglists:

dad!marauders: @wassup-peoples​ @iamak20​

Remus: @racerparker @susceptible-but-siriusexual

marauders: @secretsthathauntus @ronniethelost @sognatrice-as-a-hobby @hxrgreeves @wecouldbreakthedistance @valentina-007

general HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @bloodblossom73 @mytreec @lilulo-12fanfiction @emmaloo21 @kashishwrites @ananad1

let me know if you want to be added/removed!

MASTERLIST

[hypfic]

May I request pining➡️confession shortfic with Sasara?

genre: pining, confessions, slice of life

warnings: n/a [mentions of alcohol]

pairing: sasara x reader

you got it! 

I’ll admit, when starting this I had no clue how to write for Sasara, but then I wound up writing three pages of fic so... enjoy! lol 

I added a little wing man Rosho in there too :) he cares for Sasara

    Sasara bounced his leg nervously as he impatiently sat waiting on a bench outside the school’s gates. He glanced at his phone once every thirty-seconds, frowning at the lack of notifications. There were about ten more minutes till school got out, ten more minutes of agony. 

    You were introduced to Sasara by one of your coworkers, Rosho, when you went to his apartment to drink one evening after work. Rosho had pushed the two of you together because apparently you “had an annoyingly high amount of things in common” and “Sasara can annoy another teacher that isn’t me”. You were sure Rosho truly didn’t mind Sasara’s company, especially since they’d been friends for so long, but you appreciated the gesture. Sasara had immediately piqued your interest. He had a demeanor that instantly drew you in, a personality that made you curious to learn more. Following that first night, the two of you exchanged contact information and had been texting each other since. Sasara always made the effort to bring you lunch whenever he stopped by to speak to Rosho about division matters, sometimes with another mysterious man. You felt like you were dancing circles around Sasara, toeing the line between flirting and being close friends. 

    It had been going on for months. Once Rosho introduced the two of you, Sasara could rarely keep his mind off of you. He made the excuse of having to come to the school you and Rosho worked at to speak division business just to bring you lunch. Every time Rosho saw him in the halls he’d roll his eyes. He introduced you to him so he would have someone else to talk to, to get him to not bug him at work, but instead, Rosho’s plan backfired and Sasara was now constantly pestering him for information about you. 

    “Sasara! Hey!” You waved to the man on the bench as you ran out the school gates to greet him, grinning as you stopped in front of him, rocking back and forth on your heels. “Rosho said he had to stay late to finish grading some exams so he won’t be able to join us for drinks tonight, so it looks like it’s just us!”

    “Ah man, he left me with you? Does he want to torture me?” Sasara teased, chuckling nervously as he looked at his phone. There was a message from Rosho that read: ‘hope you don’t mind the rain check, I figured it was about time you took the training wheels off and asked y/n out’. He shook his head and slipped his phone into his pocket, smiling at you as he stood. “Welp, now that Rosho isn’t joining us, that means more drinks for us!”

    You laughed and nodded your head, “Thank goodness! This week was rough, you’d never believe what happened on Tuesday…” You chatted with Sasara as the two of you walked towards the bar a short way from the campus you worked at, filling him in with all the teacher gossip and rumors you overheard in the halls. 

“Oh! And the craziest thing happened today too! Someone dropped off roses at the front desk for me! I have no clue who it was though… there wasn’t a note or anything...  I did put them in a nice vase in my classroom! Do you think I should have brought them with me?”

    “A-ah, Nah, I think they’ll be fine.” Sasara’s heart skipped a beat as you mentioned the roses he’d dropped off earlier in the day. So you did receive them. He wasn’t sure since you hadn’t mentioned anything or had them in hand, he didn’t know whether or not to be relieved or more nervous. He was hoping that you’d bring them out with you so he could tell you they were from him…

    Once the two of you got to the bar, the bartender ushered you to your usual seating, raising a brow at the lack of the third member of your trio. 

    “Oh, Rosho had to stay at work late! Exam season, ya know? Left me all by myself with Sasara, could you believe that?”

    The bar was surprisingly slow for a Friday night, with only a few couples scattered throughout the venue. Maybe it was the time of year where a lot of businessmen, educators, and students were busy, or maybe it was just an off night. You ordered your drinks and a few snacks, your insides warming as the alcohol touched your lips. Sasara laughed at every little joke you made, which was extremely flattering coming from him. You weren’t sure if it was the lighting in the room or the beer, but you could have sworn that you saw him blush at a few of your flirtatious comments. He looked at you like you were the only person in the room, hell the only person in the world. Maybe you were imagining things… you had to be. Sasara excused himself and stood to use the restroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Was this a date? Were all the times the two of you hung out when Rosho couldn’t make it dates? You liked him, obviously, but did he like you? You pouted your lips and rested your chin in your hand as you leaned against the table, tracing the rim of your near-empty glass with your finger. 

    In the bathroom, Sasara stared at himself in the mirror. You had been flirting with him all night… maybe. You had been, right? He wasn’t drunk enough to misread that, right? He sighed and pulled out his phone to text Rosho, cursing him for leaving you two alone. He didn’t answer. Of course, he didn’t. He knew this was Sasara’s challenge to face, not his. Right. So how to go about this… should he just tell you? Or should he be more discreet about it? Maybe straightforward was the way to go. He took a deep breath before exiting the restroom and making his way back to you. 

   “You ok?” You asked as he slid back into the seat across from you. Sasara looked pale. 

    “Yeah, yeah, no I’m fine! Great actually! Uh…” He locked eyes with you and reached for his drink, shooting the rest of it back for some last-minute bravery. “I wanted to talk to you about somethin, actually.”

    “O-Ok? What’s on your mind?”

    “Well, you see, tonight has been really great, with just the two of us, wouldn’t you agree?”

    “Mmm, yes I suppose~ It is quite nice to just enjoy your company, keep it all to myself.”

    Sasara grinned. “Y/n I have a proposition for you if you’ll hear me out.”

    “Sure! Shoot.”

    “Go out with me. Like this, except maybe at a nice restaurant every now and then, or a festival. Movies at my place maybe? Wine on the couch kinda thing? I’ll get you more flowers too.”

    “Those roses were from you?” Your eyes widened as a smile spread across your lips. “Aww~”

    “Don’t make it embarrassing! God… I haven’t felt stagefright in a long time until now.”

    “Stagefright? Sasara, I think what you’re feeling is being in love.” You reached out and took his hand from across the table. “I would love to go out with you, Sasara. However you’d like.”

[peaches-writes]

off season

description: student athletes need to look out for each other—well, at least seungmin needs to look out for your clumsy ass most of the time member: seungmin genre: fluff, sports au, best friends to lovers au, slice of life au, summer au, a side of college au (but like the ugly ass summer classes aspect of college life), implied fem reader  word count: 11.3k warning: explicit language, blood, injuries, extreme sports, a very poor attempt at writing sports, seungmin worries the entire time for good reason  note: a bunch of stuff put together it’s not rlly good sldkfsk like it was getting too lengthy i had to like haphazardly end it somehow + the one time you see me write a sports-themed fic & it’s not abt the actual sports i play lmao + also hi @t-toodumbtocare​ u told me to tag u so here we are

one - saturday

Amidst preparations for your incoming senior thesis, choosing your course specialization, clubs, and training, Kim Seungmin rushed getting his driver’s license before the end of your 3rd year’s 2nd semester for the sole purpose of driving you around the city this summer and you’re quite sure that that’s love. Though he disapproves of your specific choice of escapade that has you running around Seoul in circles in the first place, your best friend still made sure to pass his driving classes a whole month before the previous semester ended and with flying colors so he can “look after you” as he would put it. It definitely is love—simultaneously a heartwarming and annoying one at that. 

“I can take care of myself, I’m an adult,” You feign a frown at him stubbornly for the third time this month, sliding in the front seat of his navy Subaru anyway and placing your gym bag in front of your feet. You then busy yourself with taking your roller skates out, switching them out with your old Converse. “and it’s not like I don’t know how to commute.”

But, just as you’ve had this conversation every time he picks you up from your dorm on Saturday evenings, Seungmin only dismisses your argument and replies, “Yeah, and you know transport is not the main reason why I chaperone.” From the corner of your eye, you then see him expertly shifting the gears and turning the steering wheel, driving the car to the campus’ South gate, his serious expression unwavering and making you stifle a giggle. “You could get seriously hurt playing. Your mom will kill me and your coach will kill you for that.” 

“But I haven’t yet.” You counter with a slight teasing in your tone, pretending to ignore his last comment. You don’t even repeat this argument every week in the hopes of changing Seungmin’s mind at this point; after almost two months of the same starting conversation between the two of you, you just press his buttons now for fun. Undeniably, it’s funny seeing him get visibly riled up. “I’ve been playing derby for two months and the most I’ve gotten is a severely bloody nose. It’s nothing I can’t handle—“

“Yet.” He scoffs now in frustration before turning right to the main highway, well-aware of what you’re doing but letting himself get stressed anyway. “Even athletes get seriously hurt in the field, Y/N, we both know that.” 

You only nod with a hum, twisting your body to Seungmin’s direction and poking his side. “I know, Minnie.” You assure, softer now as you finally let out the chuckle you’ve been holding. “Now relax, loosen up a bit! You know I’m just messing with you!” 

“I know and it’s getting a bit concerning.” He rolls his eyes, finally relaxing his shoulders a bit and sighing in disbelief before swiftly swatting your hand away from his waist. “You talk like you’re not training for next year’s Championships.”

“Ah, but it’s because training isn’t as strict yet, at least with mine.” You shrug, sitting up properly in your seat as you take this opportunity to change the topic. “How’s your training, by the way? I barely saw you this week. Is Jeno giving you a hard time as co-capt.?” 

You sink in your seat and look up at Seungmin expectantly after, smiling unconsciously when he doesn’t respond immediately to focus on driving, giving you a brief moment to admire his focused expression. “Training’s okay.” He eventually replies, quirking an eyebrow when he briefly glances at you over his shoulder and catches you staring. “Surprisingly, Jeno’s chill with being co-capt. We’re getting along.”

“’Chill,’ you mean lazy like you.” You scoff playfully. “Why have you been too busy to hang out this week, then?” 

“Practicing my driving so I don’t accidentally kill you first before roller skating could.” He answers dryly, making you roll your eyes. “That and Mr. Im’s giving too much papers for an intersession class.”

“Right, summer classes. So responsible.” You scrunch up your nose. “Aren’t you tired? Training, summer classes, driving me on Saturdays, not to mention we’re going to be seniors after the break...”

When you don’t speak after trailing off, you see him shaking his head. “A bit, but driving you around is relaxing.” He corrects casually, missing the way he catches you off-guard. “It helps me think and, like I’ve said before, I get to look after you so, seriously, don’t try sneaking around me and commuting on your own or I’ll start panicking.” 

Now, that is new to your Saturday conversation starter. 

“Really now?” You raise your own eyebrow, trying your best to not sound too surprised. “So you don’t hate this as much as you make it seem like?”

“I didn’t say that.” Though visibly caught off-guard too, he shakes his head as seriously as he can look, not even sparing you a glance this time as he makes another turn. “But making sure you’re alive is kind of part of the best friend job.” He explains after, making you laugh. “And driving—driving’s always fun.”

“Sure, sure.” You smile as you try playing it off coolly, looking down on your hands as heat rises up your neck. “Whatever you say, Minnie.”

-

You first got into roller derby through Yuna, a freshman in your university and a fellow figure skater who began training alongside you during the 1st semester of your 3rd year. Sometime almost two months ago, one of her derby team members, Yeji, had to cancel a few days prior to an important game to attend to her personal matters and so she immediately turned to you as a possible substitute, noting your figure skating skills and how you’re already familiar with the sport from occasionally watching her. Naturally, with your adventurous streak, curiosity got the best of you when presented with the offer and, especially after winning the game, you’ve been hooked ever since; meeting up with her and the rest of the all-girls team almost every Friday and Saturday at the warehouse on the way to Incheon where the games are usually held. 

So naturally, she always makes sure to meet you at the entrance of the venue, especially now that she’s not training with you for the summer to focus on her own summer classes and a part-time job. 

“Finally, you’re here! I missed you!” She hurriedly waves at Seungmin before throwing an arm around your shoulder in a side hug. “How have you two been, lovebirds?”

“Ya, Minnie and I aren’t like that.” You roll your eyes as you briefly hug her back by her waist, careful of her arm injury from two Saturdays ago while expertly hiding the heat flaming your cheeks. With this gesture, you almost miss the way Seungmin’s lips frown every so slightly in front of you, if it’s because of the nickname or your reaction to it, you dare not to ask for fear of further embarrassment. “And I’ve been well, Coach Park isn’t going beast mode on me yet. Seungmin here’s been busy, though.”

“Oh, right! I heard from Jeno that your first game’s in 2 weeks already.” Yena then turns to your best friend expectantly. “How’s training? The game’s on a Saturday, right?”

“It’s...fine,” Seungmin answers slowly with a hum, almost as if he’s hesitant on what word to use. You then see him narrow his eyes at you when he sees the mischievous glint in your eyes at the familiar question. “...chill, actually.”

“Chill as in lazy.” And as expected, you chime in the same words you commented on the car ride to the venue, making Yuna throw her head back in laughter. “You know how our friends are.” 

“As expected of Seungmin and Jeno together, I guess.” She nods in confirmation between laughs, making Seungmin groan in defeat even more. “How do boys in team sports even do it? Train, I mean?” 

You shrug in response, giggling at Seungmin’s annoyed expression directed mostly to you. “Guess we’ll have to see in two weeks, right? Are you free on that weekend?”

“Yeah, intersession’s been hectic, but I’ll try and clear my schedule!”  

“Oh coo—!” But before you could even comment more on a possible hangout with Yuna, Seungmin is already directing the three of you inside the warehouse impatiently. “Ya!” 

“Yeah, yeah, finish your game tonight first then I’ll think about letting you in mine. Aish, you two are so mean to me and Jeno all the time.” He huffs with a roll of eyes, stopping right in front of the path behind the audience bleachers leading to the locker rooms.

Turning to you again, he then bids you goodbye with an affectionate pat to your head and a long sigh. “Be careful tonight, okay? Make sure to wear your gear properly.”

“Always am.” You assure with a wink, holding your gear up in front of him before he can take another step back. “Relax, would you? Just enjoy the show tonight!” 

Seungmin nods at you with pursed lips one last time before waving goodbye as he starts retreating back into the crowd, most likely to join your other friends at the bleachers. “I’ll see you on the rink!”

“I’ll be the one with the star on my helmet!” You jokingly remind with a chuckle, smiling when he acknowledges you with a final wave before finally turning around to walk away properly. 

“Ah, lovebirds.” Yuna comments on the side once Seungmin fully disappears into the crowd, making you glare at her at already knowing where this conversation is going to lead to. “Every single time you’re here without fail. So romantic!”

“Yuna!” You scold much like you’ve been doing the past two months, throwing your arm around her shoulder this time as the two of you now turn left to the lockers. “It’s really not like that!” 

“I’m friends with Kai and Jeno but you don’t see those two caring if I die on the rink every game. I’m pretty sure they want me dead more than anything, even.” She points out in defense. “I’m telling you, Seungmin’s a whole keeper! And you already told me you like him too so what’s stopping yo—“

“We’re not dating ever.” You insist stubbornly, entering the locker rooms now where your teammates greet you (and Yeji scolds you again for arriving late). “He’s just looking out for me because he thinks I can’t commit to anything without threatening death. Besides, he’s busy, I’m busy—” 

“—You like him, he likes you, you’re both dense.” Yuna interjects in the same enumerating tone you used, settling on a nearby bench as you move to your locker to change and prepare your gear. “The same speech every week, and they’re not even good excuses. Seriously, just date already!”

You open your mouth to respond while taking your outer clothes off, revealing your derby uniform inside, but Lia, as expected, suddenly pops out of nowhere, asking, “Who’s dating?”

“No one—”

“Will date, you mean.” Yuna corrects, turning your frown into a scowl now as you pop your head out of your shirt, carefully discarding the material inside your locker with your gym bag in exchange for your helmet and arm gear. “You already know who.” 

At this, you see Lia smile knowingly and lean back on the bench as you hurriedly put on your gear and helmet. “Right, the lovebirds.” She nods at Yuna before turning to you. “Did anything happen this week?” 

You quickly shake your head, adjusting your helmet as you do so. “No, Yuna’s just teasing me—again.” You then sit in between the two girls, re-tying your roller skate’s laces. “Don’t listen to her, she’s delusional.”

“Um, delusional for a reason!” The girl in question protests much to Lia’s amusement, bumping her shoulders with yours in the process. “Who even drives people to places even when they don’t want to? And he always insists on looking at your injuries after every game too? I think someone’s whipped and his name begins with a Seung and ends with a Min.” 

“He’s just nice and—” You try to insist again but to no avail when you see her raising her eyebrows and smiling suggestively, your hands going up to your face sheepishly as your stubborn front easily breaks down at it. “Ugh, stop with those looks!” 

On your sides, you hear Lia and Yuna laugh, patting your back and shoulders comfortingly.  

“Hey, you know Yuna’s just messing with you.” Lia reminds you softly after a moment, prying your hands off of your face and helping you up. “You won’t let that get in your head now of all weeks, would you? It’s the re-match game against our seniors tonight!”

“It’s just you always put me up to it. Seriously, stop it!” You groan instead in protest, belatedly swatting the two away as you join your team back outside and to the rink. “I swear, if I end up getting thrown by Jeongyeon across the rink again tonight, I’m blaming it on you because you keep teasing me.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” Yuna rolls her eyes playfully just as you reach the rink, meeting the crowd’s cheers that momentarily prompts you to wave and smile at them. “maybe until later after the game.”

“Don’t even try pointing at Seungmin to me again mid-game.” You elbow her harshly, ending the conversation as the announcer, Jaemin, calls your team name and starts listing your numbers one by one in introduction. 

“...number 5 Lee Chaeryeong, number 9 Shin Yuna, and number 17 Y/N Y/L/N!” 

“I don’t have to,” Yuna retorts playfully as she prepares to slide in the rink before you, referring to your last comment. “You always find him yourself, anyway.”  

And, as if her words easily got to you, you unconsciously find Seungmin waving at you from the crowd, seated with Jeno, Kai, and Jeongin who are holding yet another cheesy poster for your team. You wave back at him out of courtesy, glancing at Yuna after to roll your eyes in her direction.

“See?” She mouths at you before moving to the very front of the group with Lia and Yeji, starting the game. “Whipped!”

Meanwhile, you skate over to the back with the opposing team’s jammer, Jeongyeon, accepting her high-five before getting in position. 

“Y/N, long time no see! Are you with your boyfriend again?” She teases just as Jaemin, blows the first whistle for the pack to start skating. “Seungmin, right? The kid from Legal Management?” 

You glance at her briefly, skating on the second whistle first before exclaiming, “Jeongyeon, not you too!” 

“I’m just asking!” She holds her hands up in defense, quickening her pace almost at the same time as you do. “Just so I know if you get distracted again!” 

“I won’t this time, promise.” You assure, using the conversation to fuel your momentum and easily overtaking her. “I’ll be focused tonight!” 

“We’ll see about that!” You hear her yell behind you as she catches up, dodging your teammates while you dodge hers to score a point. 

Swiftly, you duck and jump around the pack, making sure to avoid Seungmin’s eyes when you pass his bleachers to prove to Yuna, Lia, and even Jeongyeon otherwise as you come in contact with them. 

Eventually, with a little difficulty and a lot of harsh shoulder and hip bumps from Chaeyoung and Dahyun, you then score the first point with a huge gap between you and Jeongyeon. 

“See, I’m focused!” You brag to your senior who runs behind you before turning your gaze ahead again. 

“And the first 5 points of the night goes to number 17, Y/N!” Meanwhile, Jaemin announces into his mic from the center of the rink, catching a high-five from you as you pass. “Must be all that formal training, huh?” 

“What are you talking about? This is how I usually walk!” You reply playfully, eliciting more cheers from the crowd as you naturally change into your athletic persona. 

“And the figure skater brags again.” Jaemin muses out loud, receiving the banter well as the host. “Careful there, Y/N, Jeongyeon, number 1, is catching up quickly!” 

But despite the warning, you take the time away from the pack to momentarily slow down, waving and receiving more high-fives from the crowd before finally looking over at Seungmin who is now on his feet and clapping wildly while cheering for your team, a stark contrast of his usual worried disposition at the start of the night. When you reach his bleacher as you quicken your pace to try and score another point, you lean over the barrier and send him a confident wink which he receives with a playful scoff. 

“What are you doing? Focus on your game!” He scolds, the other boys snickering next to him.

“I’m just checking in with my biggest fan before he goes back to worried mode.” You grin at him, pinching his cheek affectionately. “How was my first five points?”

“Great, great.” He answers quickly, gently pushing you by your shoulder as if gesturing you to go back to your game. “Now, go, you have a pack to catch up to and a game to win.” 

Cute, you think to yourself, a grin forming on your features as you bid him goodbye again to go back to chasing the pack around the rink. “Okay, Minnie, whatever you say!” 

“You two are so adorable!” Sana points out as you reach her on the side of the pack after, not even bothering to block you or hit you by the hips now with how much she’s gushing over you and Seungmin. “So cute!” 

“I know, right? Unnie, can you believe they’re still not dating?” Yuna agrees, letting her guard down momentarily from blocking Sana until she sees Jeongyeon catching up to you from over your shoulder. 

“Yuna, stop it!” 

“No! It’s fu—oh, look out!” 

Behind you, Jeongyeon easily knocks Lia and Chaeryeong off their skates, her hand reaching your shoulder to propel herself forward in the tightly-knit pack. 

“Come on, guys, less talking more hitting!” Your opponent jammer sticks her tongue out, purposely waiting for you to catch up before picking up the pace again. “Y/N, you said you’re not getting distracted!” 

“Sana and Yuna were ganging up on me!” You retort in protest, bumping her by her shoulders and hips and overtaking her again. “More hitting it is then!” 

“Oh, it seems like this second game between Team Neon and Team Magenta is going to be bloody!” Jaemin, quickly picking up on the commotion, comments. “Who will be our winner tonight? It looks like it’s going to be a very close call!” 

“Ah, not on my watch.” You mumble under your breath, expertly knocking out Jeongyeon on the way to another five points. 

- 

The game ends almost two hours later, the score being 115-110 with your team emerging victorious and at least four overall cuts and bruises around your body. As soon as all the photographs have been taken for Instagram and the weekly plastic trophy has been passed around your team at least twice, Seungmin immediately takes you away from the crowd and your team right after taking your things from the locker room, his adrenaline for watching sports directing its attention to tending to you again and his cheerful expression switching back to worry. 

“Minnieee,” You call for him for the second time as you near the bathroom at the end of the hall, tiredly stumbling over nothing when Seungmin doesn’t slow down a bit with his brisk walking. “Minnie, slow down a bit, my legs are tired!” 

But he only slows down when you reach the bathroom, gently hoisting you up to sit on the cold marble of the sinks before taking out his first-aid kit and the ice packs he got from Jaemin from the outer pockets of his backpack. His serious and worried expression doesn’t falter once, looking even worse than the one he always wears on your car rides to the game. “Don’t move too much until I—until we’ve checked everything.” He instructs you, lifting your gym bag and his backpack that he’s been carrying with him to the side.

“You’re so serious again.” You feign another frown at him once you’re settled on top of the sink, gaze softening as he quietly and hurriedly shuffles around to wrap the ice packs in towels as if ignoring your comment. “Don’t I get another ‘congrats’ or a ‘good job’? I scored 85 of those 115 points. I’m fine.” 

“I already congratulated you with the others out there,” He reminds with a frustrated sigh, carefully inspecting your arms and legs for more bruises he didn’t initially notice. “and you already know you did really well against Jeongyeon this time around but that fall before the 85th point...”

At the mention of your one violent fall tonight, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. “This one?” You ask for confirmation, lifting your shift up and pulling your waistband down slightly against your heated cheeks and Seungmin’s suddenly wide eyes. Clearing your throat, you hide it again from him as quickly as you showed it and assure, “It’s fine, seriously, I—“

But, just as stubborn as you are, Seungmin’s hands move shakily to the hem of your shirt, hesitantly lifting it up after looking up at you in permission to see the harsh mark. “I-It’s turning blue. You didn’t even ice it up properly when you switched positions with Chaeyeon.” He argues back as firmly as he can and thus cutting you off from showing him your other bruises, his other hand holding up the ice pack in between the two of you. “This one really needs the ice pack more than the rest.”

Your eyes widen back at him because of the gesture, freezing for a moment in place until you quickly regain composure and manage to stutter out, “O-okay, fine...” And with that, you take his hand off your shirt, holding it up yourself while your other hand takes the ice pack from him. “Th—shit—t-thanks.”

Seungmin only nods and hums in acknowledgement awkwardly, picking up two other ice packs wrapped in a towels and leaving one to rest on your right thigh while he hovers the other over your your collarbones. “The other two don’t look too bad, though.” He comments, changing the topic and muttering a quick apology when you hiss at the simultaneous cold contact on your skin. “You’re not hurt anywhere else, right?”

“I think I have a cut on my feet, I’m not sure, it stings a bit when I put too much pressure.” You shrug your free shoulder carefully, meeting Seungmin’s eyes when you turn to him again and find him hovering dangerously close to your face. With the way he looks at you expectantly for answers, you immediately figure out that it’s not time to tease or play games with him anymore. “I-I’ll just—walk back out with slippers, it’s probably just the blisters from last week.”

“We’ll have to check that too. You also have a cut on your lip, you know.” He points out after when he leans closer, his free hand picking up a small box of face tissues from the first-aid kit. “When did this even happen?”

Instinctively, you reach out to touch your bare lips first before taking the tissues from him, only then noticing the dry skin bumps that have now formed around what you assume would be a dried cut. “Huh, I didn’t even notice.” You muse out loud, closing your mouth and taking the tissues from Seungmin immediately when you feel the wound open slightly again. “It must be from when Chaeyoung hit me—shit.”

“Nothing you can’t handle, huh?” Seungmin mumbles under his breath, looking down on your thigh to check the bruise under the ice pack he left freely on top of it. “You’re so clumsy.”

You frown at him and the reference to earlier this evening, making him crack a small amused smile when he meets your gaze again. “Fine, maybe I am a bit—clumsy.” You admit hesitantly with a sigh and a roll of your eyes when he raises an eyebrow at you again. “But at least I got you to patch me up every time, right?”

“And that’s why I chaperone you.” He reiterates firmly, briefly taking off the ice pack he’s holding against your collarbones to inspect the bruise after and furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Tch, it’s not like this happens every week. It just happened that tonight was extra violent, you know.” You reply slowly before licking your lips and disposing the tissue into a nearby chute. 

“Yeah but point you still got hurt like you always do every single week.” He retorts before picking up the ointment and cotton balls next to you, taking a step back and crouching down to the level of your skates. Untying your shoelaces then taking your skates and socks off, you lean forward to see Seungmin wince at the amount of red blotches and commenting, “Look, you even managed to open your blisters tonight.” 

“Is it that ba—sh-shit! Ya, Minnie, you’re pressing too hard on i—ya, it hurts!” You wince when Seungmin presses a cotton ball coated in ointment on one of your blisters, making you instinctively grip on the edge of the sink and lean back. 

“Ya, you really didn’t notice this? At all?” He scolds, cleaning your wounds again but this time simultaneously evading your unconscious attempts at kicking his face. 

“Well, I was too happy knowing that we’re advancing to fina—ow, ow, ow, it stings!” 

“Ah, seriously. Ya, stop moving too much, I still need to bandage these.” He hisses, slapping your leg gently before going back to cleaning your wounds. “I’ll make it up to you later, promise.” 

“Piggyback and ice cream?” You pout. “You’re being really harsh on my blisters.” 

“Wheelchair if you don’t behave and kick me in the face.” He threatens, holding your feet in place by your ankles before going back to cleaning the rest of your wounds. “Now, just hold it in a bit.” 

two - sunday

Seungmin also dotes on you by randomly checking in during your training hours. Though he’s always done this even before you started training competitively, ever since you’ve picked up your side hobby of roller derby this summer he’s started picking up a more consistent schedule of coming over on Sunday mornings (when he knows you’d still push yourself to attend training) to make sure that you’re not overworking and further damaging your already bruised and wounded body. It’s a bit too much for his character, you’d know very well as his best friend with years of observing how he treats his other student athlete friends, but he always brings you coffee and a cheat meal bento for when Coach Park isn’t looking so you can’t really complain.

“Minnie!” You greet him with a wave as he finally arrives, 8 PM on the dot just as you finish your best attempt at warming up your already sore body. Skating over to his side of the audience area, you then lean over the barriers with your arms folded on top of it with an anticipating smile, watching him get comfortable in his unofficial seat in the middle of the front row. “What do you have for me today?”

“It’s Korean special for today.” He answers with a smile, taking out a pair of familiar white bento boxes typically sold at the cafeteria of the nearby College of Architecture and shaking it in front of you before placing it on the seat next to him. Looking around the empty rink, he then asks, “Coach Park isn’t with you today?”

“Faculty meeting, won’t be back until lunch,” You shrug before another thought crosses your mind. “Hey, do you want to skate?”

Seungmin hesitantly shakes his head in front of your wide eyes, sinking in his seat. “No, I’m good, thanks.” He shrugs as casually as he can, though you’re quicker to take note of his gaze lingering on the smooth ice.  

So, stubborn as you are, you insist anyway, “I see that look!” 

“You’re supposed to be training—actually, you shouldn’t even be with all the hits you took last night.” He points out. “Anyway, don’t you need the whole rink?”

“I’ll be here the whole day. I can just practice seriously when Coach Park is actually here.” You grin widely, smoothly gliding to the gates now to fetch him. When he doesn’t move in his seat, you continue further up the stairs until your blades hit the rubber mats of the audience area. “And like you said, I shouldn’t be training with all the hits I took last night.”

“We can just skate around leisurely!” You conclude, Seungmin’s eyes narrowing up at you when you reach him and his body automatically cringing at the sound of your blades hitting rubber. 

“Yeah, but—”

In response, you take hold of his free hand with your own while the other puts his backpack to the side, tugging him to the direction of the locker rooms. “I’m injured so I need help getting around.” You answer after halfheartedly. 

“You were already skating before I could even get here.” He tries reasoning out but before he can even continue, you’ve already managed to pull him up to a stand, almost tripping the two of you even until he quickly balanced himself right in front of you. 

“Kids will start training here by next week so this is literally the last time we’ll have the ice on our own for a while.” You counter back, already pulling him to the locker rooms with the loud thud of your blades. Glancing over at him from behind your shoulder, you chuckle as you catch Seungmin’s expression change into that of resignation as he finally lets you pull him along. “Ha, knew it.” 

“I’m just looking out for you,” He states, more to convince himself than you. At that, you reach the locker room, proceeding straight to the unclaimed locker next to yours by the door for Seungmin’s skates—an old pair you stole from his house some two Christmases ago when he started visiting you like this. 

“Right, right.” You giggle at him, passing him his skates and taking out another article of clothing from the lockers, this time a familiar hoodie from your locker that immediately catches Seungmin’s eye. “Just put these on.”

“Didn’t you say you lost this hoodie?” 

“It actually got lost in my laundry for two months bu—ya, don’t look at me like that! At least I’m giving it back now! I don’t want you getting in there cold!” 

-

Seungmin is exceptionally knowledgeable on many things like Legal Management (his course), baseball, music (especially singing with the amount of times he hangs out with Jeongin, his other best friend), and skating—but the last is quite debatable since his knowledge is limited to growing up watching you upgrade from the lake behind your houses when you were five to the rinks you train at today. He still doesn’t get how scoring works (”But you looked so great out there!” “Not to the judges, I guess.” “Huh?!”) and he still can’t differentiate the common jumps in competitive figure skating that well but you trust him as one who has a good eye for artistry and technique. He is a fellow athlete, after all. 

“Can you extend your arms a little more?” He asks after you’ve shown him a particular step in a work-in-progress choreography for next year’s Championships. After a mini argument with him over whether you’ll practice your stunts while he’s still with you or just skate around until you feel tired, he somehow convinced you to show your choreography first before skating with you by offering to treat you to another bento box and a cup of iced coffee later. 

Damn his negotiating skills. 

Skating back to him from the other side of the rink, you sigh. “I mean I can if I’m not injured at the moment.” You answer, gesturing to the bruise on your collarbone hidden behind your own long sleeves. “Maybe on the day itself, you know, 7 months from now.” 

“Then you should make sure to extend your arms out in that move when your bruise heals so you look pretty,” He concludes, taking your phone out of his pocket and pressing pause on your chosen music that now fades to a segment without choreography yet. “and don’t play any derby on that month.” 

The last comment makes you smile as you now leisurely skate in circles around him. “So you’re allowing me to play derby until next year?” You ask with your most hopeful look, halting to a stop next to him and linking your arms with his after.

“I’m just saying in case you still want to play derby until next year.” He shrugs, following you around the rink when you tug him forward. “The choice is still up to you.” 

You then take this as a sign that you can now skate freely around after a whole hour of “practice,” mindlessly leading the two of you around the ice. Seungmin would still trip a little bit no matter how many times you’ve tried teaching him how to glide smoothly on the ice but you pretend to not take notice of this, gently helping him balance himself wordlessly instead. 

“Wait, do you still want to?” He asks after a moment. “Play after the summer, I mean?” 

You shrug back, alternating your attention between thinking of a more elaborate answer and looking down on Seungmin’s skates to make sure he’s not threatening another fall. “Derby’s fun and all, especially right now on my off-season but I don’t know. It does take a toll sometimes.” You end up saying in the end, guiding Seungmin around the curve of the rink in increasingly larger glides. “Coach Park’s kind of getting mad at me already too when she sees some of my blisters since it’s not helping me break in my new skates.”

“So...yes, no, maybe?” 

“Maybe.” You answer, looking up at him and admiring the way he concentrates on balancing himself. “Besides, I still have to ask you about it too.” 

At that, you catch Seungmin’s gaze and raised eyebrow. “Me?” He repeats, almost falling over in front of him and prompting you to slow down. 

“Yeah,” You naturally follow up, skating ahead of him and moving your hands back into his as you try skating backwards this time. “as my no. 1 fan—and by that I mean my best friend who always scolds me before and after the games but cheers on me wildly during—what do you think?”  

You observe Seungmin without too much anticipation in your expression in case he correctly guesses that you’re expecting a certain answer from him. 

“I’ve already told you before...” He eventually trails off after a moment before glancing at you again and sighing. “...it’s just, you look like you’re having fun but—”

“But it’s dangerous.“

“But you should play less.” He corrects seriously, skating the arms distance between the two of you and placing his hands on your upper arms, holding you in place. With this gesture, you look up at him with a confused expression, trying to decipher all the thoughts that seem to run over a mile a second in the way he glances back at you. “I’m always behind you and whatever you do, even if it’s dangerous and stupid, that’s what best friends do—but even that has limits sometimes.” 

You pause. For some reason, you don’t think of an immediate and witty comeback to lighten what has unconsciously become a sincere atmosphere, your thoughts lingering instead to the conversation you had with Yuna just last night. 

“Who even drives people to places even when they don’t want to?” You hear your friend loud and clear in your mind, almost nagging even. 

Definitely not Seungmin, you think to yourself, especially if it’s another person like Hyunjin or Jeongin...

“Y/N?” Seungmin suddenly calls for you, his voice just barely above a whisper as he hesitantly lets go of your arms and snaps you out of your daze. 

Blinking twice up at him, you catch him just in time before he can even skate back away from you, holding him by his fingertips. “So...” You trail off, furrowing your eyebrows in thought. “so yes, no, maybe—?”

“Maybe.” He finishes the thought for you, rubbing the nape of his neck awkwardly before huffing slightly in the cold, a puff of white air escaping his pink lips. “That’s a maybe too, I guess.” 

You nod slowly in acknowledgement, tugging him forwards. “So, in conclusion,” You reply slowly, changing your direction again as you now move yourself and Seungmin to the very center of the rink before breaking out into a chuckle to diffuse the unnecessarily tense atmosphere. “let’s get back to it after the summer?” 

“That and don’t play derby when the time comes that you’re actually in Championships.” Seungmin points out, catching up with you now so you’re skating next to each other again. “Multi-tasking isn’t really your strongest suit.”

“Ya!” You protest, elbowing him gently and making him laugh. 

“I was just kidding!” When you try skating away from him, Seungmin latches onto your elbow and desperately pulls you back to his side, barely missing another threat of a fall. “Don’t let go, I’ll trip!” 

“Says the one who called me clumsy that I can’t multitask.” You roll your eyes with an amused chuckle

“We just had a really heartfelt talk and that’s all you picked up?” Seungmin feigns a frown at you, tightening his arms linked to yours. “You’re unbelievable sometimes.” 

“It’s not like we don’t always talk about it.” You scoff, pulling Seungmin close by linking your arms again. “Though, I am a bit surprised with today’s answer. You just always know how to re-word the same thing a bunch of times, huh?” 

“You brought it up and I answered sincerely.” He gestures to you with a tilt of his head, looking down on his skates after. “I didn’t even know my opinion was that important to you. I mean, you have been ignoring it for 2 months straight.” 

“Like I said, no. 1 fan.” You grin before nudging him by his shoulder. “And I don’t ignore your opinion, I’ve been retiring from the game itself earlier like you asked me to before!” 

“As if that makes a difference.” He rolls his eyes, pursing his lips before he could comment further. “You still play 3/4 of the game, anyway.” 

“We’re going to argue about this for the whole morning if ever, Kim Seungmin.” You chuckle, holding his hand again and leading him to another spin around the rink. “Let’s just skate freely for now, hm?” 

- 

Coach Park arrives an hour earlier than she intended later on while you and Seungmin ate your bento boxes, prompting your best friend to not return to the ice after and to simply watch you from the stands instead. When your training ends almost five hours later, you’re quick to change back into your shoes in the locker rooms to return back to Seungmin’s side, making even your coach laugh in amusement. 

“I’ll see you next week Thursday, correct?” Coach Park asks you as she readies to shut the power off the venue, still chuckling every time she glances at you standing next to Seungmin by the entrance. “Those wounds should improve by then so we can start landing at least half of your jumps.” 

You nod, adjusting your gym bag on your one shoulder. “I’ll rest until then, promise!” 

Coach Park then turns to Seungmin with a feigned strict look, pointing at you as she then instructs, “Look after them, Kim, alright? I trust you’ll keep Y/N in check until then.” 

“I will, coach.” Seungmin assures with a nod and a smile himself, slinging an arm over your waist to help you balance yourself before turning you towards the direction of the entrance doors and concluding, “We’ll be off now!” 

“Alright, see you!” You hear coach Park bid you goodbye before you pass through the double doors of the entrance, getting pulled to the direction of the parking lot by Seungmin after. 

“I thought you’re buying me an extra bento box? And iced coffee?” You ask when you don’t make the turn leading to the College of Architecture, following Seungmin straight ahead to his car parked right across the building entrance anyway. “Ya, Minnie—”

“I texted Changbin to buy, it should be at your dorm’s kitchen by now.” Seungmin answers casually, taking out his keys from his hoodie pocket and pointing it to his car. Once you near the vehicle, he then opens the door for you on the front passenger seat, wordlessly taking your gym bag and placing it in the back along with his backpack. “If not, then I’ll just drive back here, I don’t have anywhere to be today.” 

You smile at the thought, happily putting on your seatbelt. “I love you, have I said that this week?” You chuckle, wrapping an arm behind his waist in a side hug before he can close the door. “You’re the best, capt.!” 

“It’s weird when you call me capt.” He feigns a scowl, patting your head and briefly hugging you back anyway. “And you only love me because I practically babysit you.” 

"I never even asked to be babysit in the first place.” You pout, following him with your eyes even when he closes the door and moves to the other side of the vehicle to the driver’s seat. Turning your body to his direction as he turns on the ignition and starts driving away, you then add, “You’re supposed to say you love me too, capt.” 

Seungmin rolls his eyes in an attempt to move your eyes away from the wild blush on his cheeks. “Put your seatbelt on.” He steers the conversation instead, placing a hand behind your headrest as he backs the car away from the parking. 

“‘I love you too’?” 

“What do you want to do when we get to your dorm?” 

“Okay, I’ll take that. How about you choose the movie for today?” 

three - wednesday

Though he never demands you for it from knowing full-well your own busy training schedule and classes, you’ve always made sure to attend each and every baseball game Seungmin participates in ever since you were children to cheer him on and he’s always thought that that’s your own version of showing your affection to him in return for his support for you. Though you can get a bit embarrassing cheering on him the loudest and always wearing his extra old jerseys to the games, he never complains about it anyway and only argues with you after the game about other things, mostly you skipping your own training to see him or attending his games instead of resting at home like today. It definitely is love—simultaneously a heartwarming and worrying one at that.

So today, at his baseball team’s scrimmage, he’s not even that surprised anymore when you show up with Jeongin by your side, insisting that your cuts and bruises are already manageable enough to let you walk without needing much help. He is, however, still worried over your well-being as usual. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks you for the fourth time since you met up right outside the field, an arm draped over your shoulder as you walk. Ahead of you, Jeongin and Yuna have already reserved seats along with the rest of your friend group, chatting away with some members of the team. “And you’re not skipping any training today?”

“I already told you, Minnie,” You giggle, limping a little from your blisters and leaning most of your weight to him with your hand on his waist. “My next training’s next week, you were even there when Coach Park reminded me! And it’s not like I’m playing, I’m just going to watch you today!” 

“I’m mainly worried about your blisters since you were training last Sunday. You could’ve just rested at the dorms today.” He points out, sitting you down next to Jeongin on the aisle before kneeling right in front of you. “It’s just a scrimmage, anyway.” 

“But I don’t want to miss a game,” You insist stubbornly, smiling reassuringly at him and his furrowed eyebrows. “and even if it’s just a scrimmage, it’s still you playing. I want to see you play.” 

With this, Seungmin eventually sighs in defeat. “Whatever, not like I can walk you home now and get back to the game in time.”

“I’m already here and you can’t do anything about it.” You affirm with a chuckle, patting his arm. “Now, go, shoo, you have a scrimmage to win.” 

Seungmin then turns to Jeongin, gesturing to you as he stands up, “Look after Y/N, please?” 

“If you mean look after them as in not letting them topple over the seats then sure.” Jeongin nods with a laugh. 

“Hey, I don’t—!”

But, as if ignoring your protests, Seungmin nods gratefully and bids you two goodbye. “Thanks!” He then turns to his teammates before you could even finish another sentence, ushering everyone to jog back to the field. “Okay, guys, chat time’s over. Let’s head to the field!”

“Ay, Seung, don’t get too flustered over Y/N now!” Jisung reminds him with a hand over the younger boy’s shoulders and a snicker, tapping on the mound with his glove as the two reach their designated positions. “Jeno’s pitching, too, you might get hit in the face if you’ll just keep looking at your Y/N.” 

“Shut up, Ji.” Seungmin rolls his eyes, tapping on the mound as well with his bat just as Jeno signals from across the diamond, preparing to pitch. With one last glance at you, he then mutters to himself, “Aish, why did they even come today? They’re injured.” 

Jisung opens his mouth to speak behind his helmet to ask what Seungmin could mean with his last comment but he’s inadvertently cut off by Jeno signaling for everyone to get ready, expertly throwing the first ball which Seungmin instinctively hits hard with his bat, prompting him to start running to first base before Daehwi and Eunwoo could even retrieve it by the chain link fences of the field, thus leaving Jisung to his thoughts. 

“Yay, let’s go Kim Seungmin!” You cheer and yell from the bleachers, almost standing up with a struggle until Jeongin pulls you down by your arms, most likely to remind you of your injuries, which Seungmin is more than grateful for. “Go Minnie! Number 22! Number 22!” 

As he runs, Seungmin makes sure to wave at you in responds when he passes by your bleachers, sending a bashful smile your way that only fuels more teasing from Jeongin without him noticing. You wave both hands back in response before he could turn his eyes back ahead, sinking in your seat as he now tries to aim for second base seeing everyone moving a bit slower than usual. 

Eventually, he makes it to second base just in time, sliding into the plate and narrowly missing Daehwi’s attempt at getting him out. 

“Yay, let’s go Seungmin!” He hears you yell and clap loudly again, making his ears heat up and everyone in the diamond to stifle their giggles. 

“Hey, isn’t Y/N injured from last Saturday?” Daehwi asks at belatedly noticing your presence.

Seungmin then stands up and dusts the dirt off his uniform, adjusting his cap and turning his focus to Jeno and Hyunjin (who bats next) ahead. “I insisted that they skip today’s game since it’s just a scrimmage but you know how they are.” 

“Really? That’s so sweet!” Daehwi squeals in delight, waving at you and the others from others bleachers. “and here everyone thought that Y/N skipping training was already cute enough! They just outdo themselves every time!” 

“Way to romanticize injuries, Dae.” Seungmin scoffs, hiding a smile from Daehwi. Simultaneously, Jeno signals again that the game is about to start, preparing to pitch. “Seriously, it’s not cute. I’m more worried than flattered.” 

“Right, because waving at them while running was definitely being worried,” Daehwi chuckles, getting in position again. “Just say you’re whipped and go.”

“You wish,” Seungmin scrunches up his nose, successfully dodging Daehwi again and leaving him on the second base. “but I do have to get going now!” 

“Ya!” 

“Woo! Go Seungmin!” You yell loudly and repeatedly again, until he successfully reaches home base which prompts you to finally stand up and jump around in cheer despite the pain your lower half. “Way to go Seungmin!” 

Seungmin can only roll his eyes at you as he walks off the field, scoffing in disbelief when you don’t stop cheering even as he approaches you from the other side of the chain link fences since he’s already done for this particular inning. 

“Why are you up? You’re injured.” He frowns, his hands going up the chain links. “Sit down, Y/N.”

“I’m fine!” You dismiss, sitting down anyway when Jeongin and Yuna start tugging on your shirt for you to sit down. “But, more importantly, you did well!” 

“It’s just the first inning—and a scrimmage.”

“Scrimmage, formal game, it’s all the same, you don’t have to say it twice.” You retort, rolling your eyes and chuckling. “You looked really cool out there!” 

The last comment definitely catches Seungmin off-guard but he hides it better this time, waving his hand in front of him. “It was nothing.” 

“So modest,” You scoff with a proud smile, leaning forward and linking your hands between the chain links. “What do you want after the game? Ice cream? Tteokbeokki?” 

“Don’t stand up too much during the game and I’ll think about it,” He answers instead. “and we’re not going anywhere after this with your injuries. I’m taking you straight home.”

“Fine.” You huff in defeat, gesturing to his teammates after. “Okay, now go back, Jeno’s looking at us weird.” 

“Don’t stand up again!”

“I won’t!”

- 

Seungmin meets up with you again after the game. When the scrimmage ends later that afternoon with Jeno’s team winning at 14-18 and everyone heading straight to the showers, he sees you with Jeongin right outside of the locker rooms, sitting on a nearby bench while the younger boy pesters you with questions on your summer training and last Saturday’s game.

“Hey, Y/N!” Jisung, accompanying Seungmin on the way out, greets you with an innocent slap to your back before your best friend could, making you wince in pain. “Oh, shit, sorry!” 

“Ya,” Seungmin reprimands him firmly, slapping Jisung’s hand away from you before helping you up from the bench. “Careful, Y/N’s injured.” 

“Why?” Jisung asks curiously, making everyone turn to him.

“Derby last Saturday.” You answer sheepishly, leaning your weight to Seungmin again appreciatively as he helps you balance yourself. “Got knocked out before scoring a point.”

“You would’ve seen if you didn’t have a date that day.” Hyunjin adds, playfully catching Jisung in a chokehold as your group now walks out of the lockers rooms and outside the field. “It was so bloody as fuck, they were against the league veterans!”

“You make it sound like I died and got resurrected.” You scoff, reaching out for Hyunjin with a struggle and slapping his arm.

“Don’t entertain him too much, he’s just dramatic.” Seungmin assures you, eliciting protests from Hyunjin.

“Really?” Meanwhile, Jisung frowns in jealously, prying Hyunjin off of him and kicking him from behind his knees as a comeback. “Ay, I really would’ve gone if only Haneul liked watching derby.”

“They don’t seem to like watching sports in general,” Jeongin points out bluntly, you nodding along to his right. “why are you still going out with this person, even? Clearly, they’re not interested in your major passion.”

“Because I like them,” the boy in question shrugs without hesitation, making you tilt your head in confusion. “I mean, Haneul’s cool but we—I guess we never really talked about the whole sports thing.”

“Why not? Bro, you’re aiming for the national team.” Hyunjin prods this time. By now, your group has reached and stopped on the sidewalk of the main campus road where you’re supposed to part ways since Jeno’s hosting a get-together but Seungmin’s insisted on taking you home. “In a few years, it’s gonna be weird being in games and having one less person to cheer you on, especially if that person’s your girlfriend.”

“Well, not everyone’s lucky enough to being in love with people who have similar hobbies as they do.” Jisung rolls his eyes dryly, his gaze instinctively landing to you and Seungmin after which only prompts you to raise an eyebrow while Seungmin glares at Jisung.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, making Jisung chuckle.

“Nothing, nothing.” He waves his hand dismissively at you before turning to Hyunjin and Jeongin. “Anyway, Haneul and I will talk about it again more later on. Personally, I’m not that bothered right now—I’m just happy we get to hang out.”

“But that’s because you started dating before any major games.” Seungmin speaks up after a while. 

Jeongin nods in agreement. “We’ll really just have to see next Friday if you still think that way.”

“Seung, Y/N always attends our games so I don’t think you’re qualified to speak over my love life.” Jisung deadpans, prompting Seungmin to hit him again. “Ow! But it’s true!”

“What?” You scoff, finally getting what he means but pretending to not know anyway in embarrassment.

“Whatever.” Seungmin huffs dismissively at Jisung, directing you away from the group now. “Anyway, we’ll get going now. It’s getting late.”

“We’re seriously going home?” You frown up at Seungmin who’s now standing behind you, both his hands on your shoulders as he moves you to the opposite direction of where the rest of the boys are going. “I was hoping you’d change your mind last minute.”

“I didn’t bring my car here today and Jeno’s dorm’s on the other side of campus.” Seungmin answers your question, waving goodbye to the others. “Come on, let’s go home. We can order again or something.”

“Fine.” You sigh in defeat, letting him walk you backwards as you reluctantly wave goodbye at everyone. “Bye, guys. I guess I’ll see you next Friday.”

“Bye!” Hyunjin, Jisung, and Jeongin wave back at you as they laugh over your frown, the eldest boy making sure to add, “Have fun on your date!”

“It’s not a date!” You yell back at him in exasperation, making the three laugh.

“We’ll make sure to eat well for you!” Jisung teases, winking at you before Seungmin could pull you to the left turn leading back to your dorms. Before you completely part ways, you hear him yell, “Alright, now let’s eat samgyeopsal!”

Heading back to your dorm now, Seungmin stands next to you again, draping his arm over your shoulder again and matching your pace. You walk in comfortable silence for a while, that is until you think about Jisung’s words once again, prompting you to ask, “What was that about by the way?”

“What?”

“The thing with Haneul.” You clarify, tearing your gaze away from him to look down on the ground. “Jisung said something about other people being lucky that they like people who have similar hobbies then looked at you.”

“Looked at me? I thought he was looking at you?” Seungmin tries to joke awkwardly before stopping when you don’t laugh along. “It’s nothing, he’s just being weird.”

You furrow your eyebrows, looking up at him only to meet his side profile. Taking a quick inhale, you then try asking, “Seungmin...do you perhaps—do you like anyone lately?”

At that, Seungmin almost trips over nothing uncharacteristically, his grip on your shoulder accidentally tightening when he holds onto you for support. “Sorry, um—w-what?”

“It’s just,” You shrug awkwardly, feeling smaller under his arm now that your impulsive question suddenly made the air awkward. You walk slower now, despite your dorm being only a block away now. “what Jisung said and—and, you know, you’ve been busy lately.”

“Yeah, because of you and classes.” He points out, still with furrowed eyebrows. “I don’t—I don’t have time to date.”

“But do you want to?”

“Hm?”

“I-If you weren’t busy with classes, training...looking after my clumsy ass and all—would you...would you want to date anyone? Do you like...someone?” You clarify as clearly and as eloquently as you can against the pain on your feet from walking and the sudden loud hammering of your heart against your chest. Why did I even ask? You can only scold yourself internally, keeping a front anyway now that you’re in too deep to change the topic now.

Next to you, Seungmin thinks about your question carefully. He’s not actually thinking about the question per se, more like thinking about why you would ask such question. Are you expecting some kind of answer? “I...” He trails off in thought, catching your gaze momentarily from the corner of his eye. “N-No, not really.”

“Oh.” You muse out loud, trying your best to hide your disappointment. “I guess that’s understandable. You’re aiming for the national team, after all.”

Seungmin then stops walking altogether, making you stop. In front of you, you see your dorm building coming into view, confusing you even more when he moves in front of you.

“No, it’s....“ He shrugs, looking down on his hands before flitting his eyes up again to you. “all my time’s for you, classes, and training right now and it’s fine. Sure, the end goal’s the national team but at the same time, I have all I need right now—dating just so happens to not really a top priority right now.”

You nod slowly with a low hum, smiling at his sincerity after a while. “So I’m top priority?”

At your comment, his sincere facade immediately fades into a scoff, rubbing his temples up in frustration. “I answer your question sincerely and all you pick up is you being a priority?” He asks in disbelief, making you laugh. “And here I was, about to offer you piggyback again.”

“I was just kidding!” You bluff in between laughs, extending your arms out for him to carry you. “Piggyback, please! I live on the third floor!”

“Maybe if you didn’t respond weirdly to my emotional rant—“

“Ya, Seungmin!” You protest, hopping on your better foot and jumping on his back before he could even move away from you. “Ha! Got you!” 

Reluctantly, Seungmin then adjusts the strap of his gym bag on his shoulder and hooks his arms under your legs. “If you’re not so injured right now, I’d drop you on the ground.” He hoists you up on his back with a groan, continuing to walk forward anyway. “Ah, this brat.” 

You chuckle, pinching his cheeks before resting your arms on his shoulders. “But seriously...” You trail off with an awkward cough. “Just date, dude, you can multitask, better than me at least.” 

You then hear Seungmin mumble under his breath, “Maybe if...” but you fail to catch the last words as he then shakes his head and adds, “Ah, whatever. How did we even get to this kind of talk?” 

five - saturday 

As if the universe is conspiring against you, you end up getting severely injured halfway through your next derby game the following Saturday. When the score is 45-70 in favor of the opposing team, you end up taking a nasty fall after successfully scoring a point, causing a broken nose. 

So much for all the talks you had with Seungmin in the past days, you think to yourself as you catch his surprised gaze from across the rink. 

Maybe it’s also because of how you’ve been talking to him a lot lately about his concerns for you and this sport that he immediately rushes to your side as Yuna and Yeji help you walk from the rink to the locker room as Jaemin suddenly announces a short break. Quickly and gently taking your arm from Yeji’s shoulder from the sides of the rink, the next three minutes are a bit of a blur to you as Seungmin multitasks between examining your bruises, assuring your teammates that he can take care of you, and walking you to the nearest bathroom—all the while scolding you under his breath. 

You can only pout at him the whole way, letting him drag you along with him until he’s hoisting you up again on top of the sink counter much like every other Saturday. 

Except it feels a bit different this time, especially since Seungmin has never looked this worried since you started this sport 2 months ago.    

“Okay, let’s see that bloody nose again.” He asks you after a while, tilting your face downwards with his one hand (the other holding an ice pack from Jaemin) and scrunching up his nose with furrowed eyebrows. “Yikes.” 

“I’m sort of choking here a bit.” You point out, shifting uncomfortably in your place at the feeling of blood on your tongue and the realization that you also have small cuts on your lips. “Um...” 

You see his eyebrows furrow deeper in thought as he then turns to his side and places his backpack next to you, temporarily placing the ice pack in the space between your leg and his backpack and taking out a first aid kit. “That bad? Fuck.” He hisses under his breath, more to himself than to you, as he proceeds to prepare a whole bag of cotton balls, wipes, and ointment. “I can clean and ice this up but we’ll have to go immediately after this and get you checked out at the clinic across the street.” 

“Really?” You wince at seeing Seungmin hold up a wet wipe to your face. “So I can’t finish the game?” 

“You’re face is broken and you’re thinking about the game? Y/N, please...” He sighs disapprovingly at you, cupping your chin again and lightly dabbing on the trail of blood on your face with the wet wipe. “Try to hold in the pain for a bit while I clean your face and maybe try not to think about the game.” 

"Sorry...” You trail off, pouting up at Seungmin and earning you another sigh from him. 

“This is the worst I’ve seen you.” He muses out loud, his furrowed eyebrows slowly softening as he purses his lips. “What even happened back there? It was all too quick for me, to be honest.” 

“The other team’s jammer bumped me a bit too harsh.” You reply slowly, careful of the blood on your lips and the sting you feel from inhaling. In front of you, Seungmin unconsciously winces through carefully cleaning your face. “We were skating on the slope going up so I ended up hitting my face on the barriers.” 

“They’re visitors, right?” He asks you next and you nod quietly in response. “I’ll have to remind Jaemin to talk to them. If not, I’ll talk to them myself...” 

“Seungmin—”

“You fell really bad, they should be accountable.” He insists anyway. “Even if derby’s a violent sport, there are still limits to it and this is just too much.”     

You unconsciously mirror Seungmin’s frown the longer he stares down at the bloodied lower half of your face, your shoulders slouching deeply when he finally reaches the end of the drying red trail on your chin with his third wet wipe. The physical pain of a broken nose and a bruised lip can’t even compete with the guilt pooling in your stomach now as you observe your best friend’s disappointed expression, making you wince less and sigh more in front of him at knowing full well that it’s all because of how you played tonight. “Just say it already.”

“Say what?” He mumbles back, now with a raised eyebrow at you as he disposes off the used wet wipes next to you on top of the sink counter. He then passes you the ice pack, guiding your hands to slowly move it up to your nose. “Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?” 

You see the genuine anticipation in his eyes of what you meant by your words, making you look down on your free hand rested right on top of the faint bruise marks on your lap. “That I’m being stupid for pursuing this sport, that I should stop playing.” You answer quietly as you shift in your seat. “It’s just that we were talking about this exact thing for the whole week and then it happens and now you look so upset so I thought...” 

In front of you, you hear Seungmin sigh before gently tilting your chin up again, meeting your eyes with a soft gaze before moving his hands up to carefully massage your cheeks. “Ya, you’re not stupid,” He shakes his head. “you’re just clumsy sometimes but that’s because you keep forgetting that you’re supposed to be on wheels here and not blades.”

“Ya—”

“And this incident wasn’t your fault.” He adds after a while, when you don’t immediately speak. “I’m not mad at you, just frustrated. I’m mad at the other team, though.”

"Seungmin—” You huff in his touch, cracking a small and brief smile on his face.

“Anyway, I still think you should lessen playing, especially since the semester’s about to start again.” He interjects quickly before you can even say another word, briefly turning to your side to pass you another bundle of face tissues when he hears you sniffling. “but I’ll never ask you to stop playing completely because I know you really enjoy this. The same applies to the other one, of course.”

“Besides, what sport doesn’t involve getting hurt?” He adds as an after thought, taking out two plies of tissue for your incoming cold and the stray tear on your cheek.

“Um, board games?” You muse out loud as you take the tissues in his hands and place them in between your face and your ice pack, fully cracking his serious façade this time as he breaks into a scoff.

“You know what I mean.” You see Seungmin roll his eyes at you, making you purse your lips as a smile tries making its way on your cuts. When he sees your reaction, his thumb instinctively moves over to your bottom lip, stopping you from smiling. “Don’t smile, dummy, we just fixed that lip cut.”

The gesture makes your heart flip and your gaze unconsciously softens at him as you watch him dispose of all your trash with a small ‘alright, done.’ under his breath. “Have I told you I love you this week?” You speak in a low voice with no intention of sounding teasing at all this time, giving him a tight-lipped smile when he looks up at you again in confusion. “You’re the best, capt.” 

It takes him a moment to process your words, especially with the unusual tone in your voice. Eventually, you see him return your smile. “You already did. I’m just looking out for you as usual.” He shrugs bashfully, offering you a hand which you gladly accept when you stand. “I love you too...” 

“I know.” You nod, tugging on him by your intertwined hands and pressing a light kiss on his cheek when he tilts his head to your side. “I’m sorry again.” 

“You’re being soft all of a sudden.” He points out, biting down a small smile. “It’s probably the fall.” 

You roll your eyes at him, pressing the ice pack closer to your face. “How many minutes do I have to hold this ice again?” 

“If you’re thinking of throwing that on my face, I’ll have you know I can deny you entry on my game next Friday.” He warns, placing his hand on the ice pack again to check your wound. “Fifteen more minutes. I’ll text Jaemin and Yeji for now, the clinic should still be open at this time.” 

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hello! i saw that ure recommending fics for johnlock i really wanted to read a fluff or angst johnlock if you have. thank you 🤗💗

Hey Nonny!

Ah, I rec fics all the time! And you’re in luck! I not only have a tonne of lists to give to ya, but I’m using your ask as an excuse to publish a Pt. 2 list, LOL.

First off, some past lists:

All Fluff Fics (Masterpost Dec 2020)

John Realizes How Important Sherlock is To Him

John Marries and Sherlock Admits his Feelings

Kidnapping, Hostage, & Stalking

Kidnapping, Hostage & Stalking Pt. 2

Kidnapping, Hostage & Stalking Pt. 3

Angst With a Happy Ending

Angst With a Happy Ending Pt. 2

Angst With a Happy Ending Pt. 3

Letters from Sherlock After the Fall

Loneliness

Arguments Lead to Confessions 

Arguments Lead to Confessions Pt 2.

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 1: Under 5K Words

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 2: 5K to 10K Words

Loss of a Child

Capture and Torture

Suicidal Ideation

And now, I’m gonna give you the best of both: How about Angsty Fluff??

‘Cause I have a small list of those! <3

I hope you enjoy what I have for you, and feel free, everyone to add more! <3

ANGSTY FLUFF Pt. 2

See also: Angsty Fluff

Hallucinations can't open doors by Bespectacled dreamer (K+, 1,330 w., 1 Ch. || Reunion, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Hallucinations, John’s Wedding, Light Humour) – In which John gets married and Sherlock gets a broken nose.

Study in Sherlock by chappysmom (K+, 3,790 w., 1 Ch. || ASiP, Friendship, Introspection, Anxious Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Caring Sherlock, Stroppy Sherlock) – Sherlock's thoughts and feelings during A Study in Pink. What DID he think of John, and why was he being so NICE?

A Study in Linguistics by rizandace (T, 12,425 w., 1 Ch. || S1 Canon Compliant/S2 Divergence, Friendship, Slices of Life, Communication, Cranky Sherlock, Hospitals, Sherlock Whump, Pet Cat, Jealous John, Sherlock’s Violin, Anxious Sherlock, John Whump) – Sherlock Holmes and John Watson had their own language. It was a language of few words and minute facial expressions, and John had learned that it was nearly the only way to have an honest conversation with his eccentric flat mate.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

[professionalsimpfor2dboys]

“You Still Mad?” Obey Me Fluff

Beelzebub x Fem! Reader

Lucifer x Fem! Reader

Introduction: When Lucifer is yet again pulled away from Y/N by a certain spoiled prince, she is rightfully angry and disappointed...but probably not for long due to an adamant gentle giant who knows exactly what to do to get her into a good mood again.

Note: I found this idea on google when I was looking for some inspo on fluff and automatically thought of Beelie Babe! If ya didn’t notice, I’m loving my new pastelish blue theme way more than my prior orange one so I thought I’d add some pretty pictures that fit the ~aesthetic~ before every fic haha ☁️

Lucifer sat, legs crossed and a steaming cup of hot coffee in hand, as Y/N sat in front of him nibbling on a pastry from a tin can placed on the table beside her. Small grins on their faces as they spoke about everything and nothing at the same time while they gave half their attention to the ongoing chess game in front of them. The eldest demon hovered his gloved hand over a pawn before sliding it forward one square, effectively blocking off Y/N’s attack towards his queen piece as a playful smirk lifted his lips.

“Aw, darn it!” Y/N groaned, dramatically pressing her back against the leather couch behind her whilst covering her eyes with a hand jokingly. Lucifer chuckled before taking his first sip of the coffee she had made for him, his eyebrows furrowing as the taste settled in his mouth. Smacking his lips, he caught Y/N’s attention promptly making her drop her hand away from her eyes to watch him. “What? Does it taste bad?” She questioned, leaning forward in hopes that wasn’t the case. She didn’t bother putting any sugar or milk since he specifically requested it black, so there was no way she could have messed up a simple task like that.

“Hm, not bad just...bitter,” he replied before taking another sip, a glint his eye she couldn’t quite decipher. “Very bitter, actually,” he hummed approvingly, gulping down another sip before setting it on top of the saucer she had brought along with it. He seemed strangely happy about it, which she didn’t understand so she reached out for the cup.

“Well, it is black coffee. Why? Do you not like it too bitter?” She asked, taking a tentative sip of the almost pitch black liquid before her nose scrunched at the taste. “Oh jeez, why does it taste like that?” She spat out, sticking out her tongue in a disgusted manner after it had went down her throat. Now, don’t get her wrong, she does have the acquired taste to enjoy bitter things such as 90% cacao dark chocolate but this coffee seemed to be on an unimaginable level, not to mention, she usually preferred sweeter things than not.

“If you don’t know already, I quite enjoy bitter foods. This actually fits my preferred coffee taste perfectly, I can never get it to be like this when I make it so it’s a pleasant surprise,” he mused, smiling fondly at her reaction as he took the cup out her hands. She met him with a confused stare.

“I didn’t do antthing special with it, but I’m glad you like it nonetheless,” she shrugged, happy that she had pleased him as she moved a chess piece absentmindedly.

“I see that you don’t know...I’ll inform you that Devildom coffee actually has a special...quirk to it,” Lucifer began, another smirk appearing on his face as Y/N awaited for him to continue. “The special aspect being that it becomes more bitter the more fond the brewer is of the person they’re making it for,” he continued, nonchalantly taking a sip of the brew as he watched her reaction from atop of the cup.

It took a few seconds to register, but once it did her cheeks bloomed red as she twiddled her fingers in an embarrassed manner. “I wasn’t aware of that...” she mumbled, looking up at his smug face. “Hey! Wait a minute! You knew that and wanted me to make it for that specific reason, didn’t you!” She realized, eyes widening at the revelation as he chuckled in reply only proving her correct.

“I merely wanted a cup of coffee, you insisted on making it for me, but I’m happy to know just how fond you are of me,” he teased as she rolled her eyes with a laugh. They continued their antics, but the peaceful bubble the two had encased themselves in was promptly popped when Lucifer’s D.D.D began to incessantly ding with an array of notifications back to back. Sighing since he already anticipated this, he picked it up and scrolled through the messages that filled his screen before beginning to get up. “I sincerely apologize, love, but Lord Diavolo requests my assistance on some trivial matter right away,” he sighed, giving her a sincere gaze as he grabbed his long coat.

“But it’s supposed to be your day off!” She insisted, grabbing ahold of his sleeve. Y/N rarely had alone time with Lucifer unlike with the others since he was always busy with tasks given to him by Diavolo, so she had looked forward to this time together for a while now and hated that it had to be cut short.

“I know, but that is seldom fulfilled without being called by Lord Diavolo at least once,” he replied. Taking note of her disappointed gaze towards the floor, he set both hands on each side of her face and made her look up at him. He was equally as disheartened since he very much enjoys the rare alone time he has with her, but also knows of his duty to the prince of the Devildom. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, alright love?” He stated softly as she nodded with his hands on her face in reply. Kissing her gently on the forehead, he rubbed his thumb against her cheek once more before taking his leave.

Y/N deflated against the couch, looking at the almost empty cup of coffee and never finished chess game in front of her sadly. Once she passed the initial sadness, she could feel an annoying bit of anger bubbling inside her chest as she sat restlessly. “Stupid prince,” she muttered, standing up suddenly. “Always Lucifer this and Lucifer that! What? The future king of Devildom can’t do a simple task himself? He’s so entitled! He has a fully capable Barbatos by his side that can go into the past and see the future mind you and he still insists on calling upon Lucifer? Ugh, I can’t believe this!” She ranted, pacing from side to side as she did so. “Does he think Lucifer doesn’t have a life of his own? Or people who want to see him? Unbelievable!” She continued, stopping to breathe heavily. A few seconds passed before she said: “I’m hungry,” which led her to the kitchen.

Now angrily rummaging through the fridge and cabinets for a snack, she eyed a box of beetle paste buns on the top shelf and groaned when she couldn’t reach it but was cut short when a muscular arm easily reached across her head and grabbed the box down for her. “You wanted this?” Beel’s deep voice questioned, his mouth half full from the slice of pizza he held in his other hand. Y/N aggressively nodded as he set the box down in front of her, she right away ripped it open and began stuffing her face with the buns in an irate manner as he watched. “Hm...it might be normal for me to do that but not for you...what’s wrong?” He asked, waiting patiently as she choked down the last bit of bun she had in her mouth. Chuckling as he watched her puffed out cheeks, he wiped off a bit of paste from the side of her mouth fondly before bringing his finger to his lips to suck it off. “You look like a cute chipmunk,” he hummed, giving her a close-eyed smile with cutely blushed cheeks that made her heart clench.

Finally done with the food in her mouth, she replied: “I’m mad,” simply, as she crossed her arms in a childish manner.

“Cute,” Beel thought you himself as he watched her before an idea popped up in his head. Noticing his silence, Y/N looked up at him and noticed the look in his eye she knew too well as well as the mischievous smile that spread across his face.

Beel wiped his hands against each other after eating the last bit of pizza. “No. No! Don’t you dare, Beel!” She protested but it was ignored as he easily picked her up, holding her up by her armpits as he chuckled at her happily. “I said I’m mad! Put me down!” She insisted, lip jutting out as she pouted but Beel cut her off by swinging her in a circle as she squealed. Beginning to laugh along with him, she still tried to keep up the facade of anger and struggled in his arms which caused him to lose his balance and for them to both fall to the ground. Y/N laid atop of him as he looked at her through his tousled orange bangs, the corners of his lips lifted unknowingly. They laid there for a bit, muffled giggles coming from their mouths every once and a while.

“You still mad?” Beel questioned teasingly, gazing up down at her on his chest. Sighing, she shuffled up so her face hovered over his as she gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“Kinda,” she replied, laying back down against his arm.

“Oh really now?” He questioned, leaning up on his arm and beginning to tickle her as she tried her best to avoid his large hands.

“Alright, alright! I’m not mad anymore!” She surrendered in between laughs and heavy breaths. “Jeez you always know exactly what to do to make me feel better, ya gentle giant,” she confessed, tousling his hair as he hummed in agreement.

Footsteps made their way into the kitchen before stopping in front of them. “What are you guys doing on the ground?” Levi’s confused voice asked. “Ah, did Beel pass out again from eating something he shouldn’t have?”

I hope you guys enjoyed the fluff! The next part of my scenting series will hopefully be coming soon, I’m still at the beginning of it which is already a lot since I love to ramble. Spoiler! It’s Lucifer’s turn and I think it’ll be very filthy so heads up about that. I’ll also be starting some requests soon! ☁️

Btw this was supposed to be mostly about my Beelie Babe but I got too into the introduction lmao so Lucifer got much more cutesy time than I at first wanted oopsey ☁️