#i do NOT remember how to make gifs [do not examine these too closely] nor did i remember my own tags

[safetybuzz]

slafkovsky: "i've wanted to play with caufield and suzuki since the moment i was drafted."

[nariism]

i loved you on a moonlit summer night

pair. diluc ragnvindr x gn!reader

content: tooth-rotting fluff, love at first sight, allusions to reincarnation but no actual instances of reincarnation

synopsis. diluc knows that he doesn't belong in mondstadt anymore. he doesn't belong anywhere— no place to truly call home and nothing in this world but vengeance in his heart. but on a wintery day on dragonspine, he finds his salvation: a box of cecelias, a fire seelie, and the owner of the best flower shop in the city.

wc. 8.4k

a/n: thank you to my beautiful @hyomagiri for beta reading, helping edit and hyping this fic up to the max. i ended up feeling confident enough to post this because of her, three cheers for ellie i love you to the moon and back <3

WINTER

It wasn’t his fault. How was he supposed to know that buried beneath blankets of snow and sheets of ice, there would be Cecelias?

Fire seelies are usually reliable with a bounty of treasure waiting at the end of their path. He isn't sure why it led him here, to some inconspicuous pile of snow which he hastily melted without realizing there was something precious hidden within.

The mistake doesn’t register with Diluc until the sweet scent of flowers and ash and burning wood wafts under his nose. He blinks in confusion at the pile, perfectly burnt to a crisp and resting at the tip of his boots.

Boxed up flowers? What are they doing out in the middle of the mountain?

He remembers then, a story someone once told him— he can't put a name to the voice but it echoes in the hollow chambers of his heart:

"Did you know that you can preserve the freshness of flowers? All you have to do is box them up nice and tight and store them in the snow."

It's an interesting tidbit of information. He can't for the life of him remember where he heard it from, though.

Wind howls in his ears, powdery snow from over the horizon plowing down the mountainside and into his face. It doesn't deter him from examining the scene. The fire seelie floats just above his shoulder, quiet now as it looks at the pile.

He’s entirely distracted by the sight, unsure of what to make of the strange discovery, until he hears the crunch of snow behind him. With the Fatui lingering around the foot of the mountain, he expects to whip around and face an enemy. He even braces himself to be knocked off his feet by a wild boar.

Instead, his sudden movement frightens you and makes you stumble back until you fall flat onto the ground.

There’s a long pause of silence that stuffs the air, neither you nor him tearing your eyes away from each other. You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, so still that it looks like you've succumbed to the frozen climate of the mountain. He breathes a slow sigh of relief when a wavering exhale leaves your lips in the form of a puff of cloudy air.

The heart resting in his chest stirs. An ancient dull ache, thrumming in the depths of his body as he looks at you in surprise.

Again, there's a voice in his ear. This time, he recognizes it as his father:

"Your mother? I fell in love at first sight."

Growing up, he never quite understood that string of words. First sight? How could someone fall in love at first sight?

Diluc Ragnvindr is a million things, but romantic is not one of them. Love at first sight is a silly fairytale that parents tell their children to tuck them into bed. It's something that could never exist in such a cruel world, plagued by monsters and evil.

It's easy for him to close his heart off to the idea of something as ridiculous as love at first sight, despite the way his eyes haven't left yours. And he's painfully aware of the way you're looking at him too, but he does his best to ignore your gawking.

Maybe he's catching a cold. He doesn't feel well all of the sudden.

Your gaze drifts to the pile of ash just behind him and you sigh, putting your head into your hands wet from snow.

"You found my seelie," you murmur, sounding very unimpressed. He blinks at you until you continue, "Those were important, you know. They were for a very special occasion."

Diluc takes in your form, clothes thin and unfit for the snowy conditions of Dragonspine. Even without the chilly altitude of the mountain, this winter in general was particularly bitter. He almost wants to scold you for dressing so thoughtlessly, even though he doesn't know your name.

"My apologies. I will reimburse you whatever the cost, and more."

"It's... not about that," you tell him from your place on the ground, still not looking at him. You seem stressed. His heart squeezes terribly.

"Not about what?"

"Mora."

He falls silent, so quiet that you finally peer up at him wondering whether or not he's even still standing there. And he is, regarding you with a thoughtful expression. His presence is so unnoticeable despite being right in front of you that it makes your skin crawl.

"How can I make it up to you?" He asks, extending his hand for you to take. Your clothes are soaked through already, cold and frozen from the subzero temperature. It doesn't help soothe his worries that he can feel a storm coming. He should get you out of here as soon as possible.

You huff, allowing him to drag you to your feet. It's then that you realize how warm he is, almost hot to the touch. The faint glimmer of a Vision dangles on his hip. Your eyes flicker back to his and he nearly jolts out of his skin.

"Don't worry about it. It's alright," you tell him though you sound disingenuous about it. You're obviously distracted, probably wondering how to explain to your client that their expensive flowers ended up as a pile of ash.

"It was my mistake. Please, let me know if there's anything at all I can do," he replies earnestly.

"Really, it's fine," you sound slightly exasperated by his stubbornness. If it were anyone ordinary, they would have taken your mercy and left you to freeze on the mountain without a second thought.

Diluc Ragnvindr is no ordinary man.

It takes him a moment to realize his hand is still gripping yours rather tightly. He recoils with an awkward cough.

“What are you doing out here in the mountains?” He asks. It dawns on him then what a stupid question it is, since you’ve obviously come to collect your frozen flowers. You tell him anyways:

"I buried some flowers further up the mountain a few days ago," you sigh, "not sure if I can find them anymore, though. That's why I've been following this little one around."

You scratch under the seelie's chin. Well, where you would imagine its chin to be, at least. It seems thrilled by the affection.

"It's going to storm soon. You should head back down the mountain and try again later."

"It's urgent," you insist, ready to brush past him and continue the trek up.

He stops you with your wrist in his hand. "Then please, let me accompany you to the top of the mountain. It isn't safe with the Fatui lingering around. It's the least I could do."

You eye him hesitantly, but then your shoulders relax and you sigh again. "Okay, okay. We should hurry and get out of here, then."

He wordlessly follows you up the trail, watching your movements carefully. While you don't seem suspicious, he can never be too sure when it comes to the Fatui. Save for the rustling of pine trees and the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots, empty silence fills the air.

It drives him crazy. So crazy that he decides to speak.

"What's your name?"

The name that leaves your lips makes him smile. He can only think that it really does suit you. 

"My name is–"

"Diluc. Diluc Ragnvindr, right?"

Heat creeps up to his cheeks. Of course you know who he is. He's the most famous person in all of Mondstadt, for Archon's sake.

"I've seen you around the city," you quickly explain, awkwardly fumbling over your words. "And at festivals and such."

Before he can dwell too much on it, your seelie chirps— once, twice, three times as it dives into the snow and slowly melts it away. You suddenly halt in your steps, crouching down to sift through the remainder. An exhale of relief leaves you when you dig out a box, intact and frozen to the touch.

He looks on in curiosity. Your hand brushes the snow off the top of the box and you open it, revealing another couple dozen Cecelias.

"Thank goodness..." and your seelie seems to agree, because it dances around your head with a pleased noise.

You're too busy admiring the flowers to realize the snow has kicked up. He's too busy admiring you to notice, either. It isn't until the seelie dips in front of your face with a panicked garble that you finally tear your eyes away from your box of flowers.

"It started to snow..."

Diluc's gaze drifts from you to the darkening sky. It's much too late to make your way down the mountain. In his time in Snezhnaya he learned one very important rule of surviving the cold: you can't outrun snow.

Your seelie leads you to a small cave in a section of rock, covered in starsilver and crystalflies. There isn't any kindling to make a fire, and he isn't willing to brave this type of storm just for some wood.

Diluc shrugs his coat off his shoulders and wraps it around your shoulders in a single motion. Heat envelops you, warmer than the fire seelie that guided you through the mountains. It’s a warmth that fills you from the pit of your stomach all the way to the tips of your fingers.

The seelie floats between you, trying to do its best to keep the both of you in its light.

It's comfortable and quiet for a while— not a peep from either of you as you listen to the howling of wind and snow outside. 

How did Diluc ever end up here?

Bad luck, karma, anything that would explain why he ended up snowed in atop Dragonspine with you— anything at all other than it was in the stars' design that he be with you right here and now. Fate mocks him.

Even worse, there's a voice in his head telling him that this is exactly where he needs to be right now. He's getting a migraine.

Diluc watches you sift through the remaining ashes of the burnt box, trying to see if there's anything you can salvage. Unfortunately, Diluc's Pyro vision was only good for combat and keeping you warm at this moment.

"I'm... really sorry," he says again, looking away sheepishly. He can't bear to look at the disappointment furrowing in your brows.

The sound of a sigh echoes in the cave, and he finally manages to look at you. To his surprise, you're only staring back at him with soft eyes: no contempt, no anger, no disappointment. It makes his heart sink, not only with guilt, but also because there's just something so sweet about you that it makes him want to hold you closer.

"It's okay. At least a majority of them survived. It'll be plenty."

"If you don't mind me asking, what were they for?"

"A bouquet for a wedding. The bride specifically asked for Cecelias, since it was the first bouquet he ever gifted her," there's a fondness on your face that makes him snort. You look at him funny. "What? It's romantic."

"They're just flowers. What's so sentimental about that?"

"They're not just flowers," you frown, scooting a little closer into his side to soak up more of his heat. The fire seelie's light flickers against your face. "Cecelias only grow in extremely windy places. They're illustrious and elegant, even after growing in such harsh conditions. Isn't that just..." you smile at him, slow and warm. "It's beautiful."

Diluc considers your explanation for a moment, tugging his coat around your shoulders tighter. "I suppose so."

"You suppose?" You laugh. "My my, I didn't know Diluc Ragnvindr was so down-to-earth when it comes to romance."

Your laugh is doing terrible things to him. There's something about it that reminds him of the days he spent wandering the Winery as a boy with Kaeya in tow. The nights he would spend catching crystalflies. Times long since passed. He suddenly aches to be back among the grapevines.

"I don't indulge in that sort of thing."

He never could, so long as there was something ugly and bitter and tainted in his heart.

"You've never fallen in love?"

"Not once."

Love like that doesn't exist. Not in a world like this.

He repeats what he believed was true, chants the mantra in his head until he's dizzy as if trying to convince himself that he isn't already lost in you. The warm orange glow of the seelie dances in your eyes, lights up your smile in a way that makes his stomach turn.

I fell in love at first sight. They were words that he couldn't understand until today.

"Is that so?" You muse, slotting your head in the space between his jaw and shoulder. He doesn’t move away. "You're an unusual man, Diluc."

"Maybe I am."

But he knows that the moment he met you, everything was about to change. You don't even dignify him with a glance as you say it:

"Let's fall in love, then."

The demand is simple and he's absolutely positive you're joking. Something in his soul tugs anyway. He swears one thing at that moment: someway, somehow, he'll make it all up to you.

You are, after all, the first person to remind him of home in a long time. Every aspect of you is so comforting and familiar, even if he can't quite place his finger on it yet.

You reach out to pet your seelie, even though you know your hand will phase through it. "You sure did lead me to some strange treasure, hm?"

It trills happily with a little twirl.

Diluc meets you in winter, in the valley between the peaks of Dragonspine. He meets you, and it smells of burnt wood and ash and Cecelias. It's so cold that you can't feel your fingers but you're smiling in the afterglow of a seelie nonetheless, and so is he.

SPRING

He learns that you own the little flower shop at the edge of Mondstadt, just within the front gates of the city.

You're teaching a young girl, Flora, how to nurture them. And he finds it a little endearing, the way you're so gentle not only with Flora but with the flowers you're showing her: daisies and tulips and Windwheel Asters, all of which are in season right now.

Diluc recognizes you when you open back up for spring, surrounded by boxes stuffed with fresh bouquets. You seem to be in a rush getting organized, holding a stack of boxes instead of taking them one by one and clumsily scattering them around so you can go through them.

He stops you by stepping in front of you, two hands on either side of the stack to steady them as you stumble to a halt.

"Diluc?" You peer from around the boxes. He can only see your curious eyes from this angle. He laughs.

"Sorry to interrupt you when you're so busy. Do you need help?"

"Well–" you do a little hop to straighten up the boxes in your arms, "–it would be nice to have an extra set of hands getting everything ready for the Windblume Festival." You contemplate his offer for a brief moment, then ultimately decide against it. "But I would hate to steal you away from your other responsibilities. You're helping with the festival too, right?"

"I owe you one. Think of this as a favour from a friend," he refutes stubbornly.

"I'm sure many would be missing the help of Diluc Ragnvindr," you tease, shifting around so that your body tilts toward him.

It's then that he can finally look at you fully, with a soft orange apron tied around your waist and Windwheel Asters in your hair to match.

One day, you would go on and explain to him that it was sort of like advertising, and that showing off how nice the blooms look as an accessory brought in a lot of business. Right now all it does is render him breathless.

"They can afford to miss me.” He can't help the smile that creeps its way onto his face at the sight of you— he feels silly about it too, like some lovesick little boy.

You hand off the boxes into Diluc's arms. "Can they? I heard you were supplying all of the wine for the festival. That's a tall order," you giggle, bending down to grab another two boxes of flowers.

"It's... manageable," he answers, making a mental note to himself to buy Adelinde dinner some time as a thank you. "What about you? What are all these boxes for?"

"We're holding a flower gifting service in the plaza, on the night of the big party." He looks at you curiously as you continue, "You can send someone you care for a flower or two, or you can send them anonymously if you just wanted to make someone's day!"

"Sounds..."

You smile knowingly. "Romantic?"

Diluc places the boxes down on the ground and pries the lids off, revealing more and more ready-to-bloom flowers. "Yeah. Romantic," he sighs.

"These will all be in full bloom in time for the festival.” You lean down behind him where he's crouched down, until your chin is nearly resting on his shoulder. He's sure his breath hitches so loud that you can hear it.

The following weeks entail complete mayhem. With the end of spring rapidly approaching, excitement buzzes throughout the city. Notably, he overhears many talking about your business and the new flower gifting service.

The Windblume Festival is a special time for Diluc. His father used to take him and Kaeya as children, back when the world was a little happier. On the night of the festival, he stands at the booth contemplating. Unlike a majority of the citizens of Mondstadt, he has not a clue who to give a flower to. Flora frowns.

"Um, mister, are you ever going to write a name down?"

The quill halts just above the piece of paper. "I don't have to sign my name, do I?"

"You can send it as a secret."

Diluc looks up from where he's bent over, observing you from a few feet away. You're conversing with some ladies who are interested in your bouquets. It was a good business idea to do something like this.

He only meant to support your idea as a friend. Now he's conflicted on whether or not he should dare to write your name.

You look absolutely radiant tonight with magical crystal chunks strewn about your hair and a crown of flowers circling your head. He isn't sure he's ever seen someone so beautiful.

He finally decides. When you turn back around to give him your attention, he's gone.

He's sure that will be the end of it, and that after tonight your brief and strange relationship with him will come to an end. But then you come bounding up to him just as he's about to head out.

"Look! A flower!" You exclaim, shoving it into his face. He's pleased that you like the one he picked out for you.

"Yes, I see that. It's nice."

"Nice? Nice?! It's adorable! I've never gotten one before."

He looks at you funny. "Never?"

"Nope," you laugh sheepishly. "I don't really get out much. Too busy running the shop."

He takes the flower from your hands and tucks it just behind your ear, adding it amongst the crown of Asters surrounding you like a halo.

"It suits you.”

"Does it?" You ask him quietly.

His heart beats furiously. How could he ever steel himself when you have such a big smile on your face, adorned with flowers and gemstones?

"Will you dance with me?" The question leaves him before he can stop it. You look at him in wonder, with his fingers brushing the hair from your face. Whatever evil overtakes him in that moment, he'll have to thank later, because without hesitation you're dragging him into the middle of the plaza with glee.

You come to learn that he isn't exactly what you'd call an elegant dancer. He only knows movements that he learned at banquets held by his family— basic steps born from obligation. 

"I thought you'd be better at this," you tease, allowing him to pull you along by the waist.

"I don't dance," he huffs. "I haven't in a long time."

"We should dance together more, then."

Diluc sighs, but there's a tiny smile spreading across his face. "I guess we should."

"This flower... do you know what it represents?" You gesture to the bloom tucked behind your ear. He shakes his head and you continue, "It means everlasting love."

He laughs at the irony.

"I see. How... fetching."

"I wonder who it was," you smile to yourself. He thinks you look breathtaking.

Diluc's lips curl at your joy. He twirls you under his arm once, twice, then pulls you back into his body as he considers your words.

"Yes, I wonder who," he mutters with an amused expression that you just barely miss. And he knows exactly who, but he's not sure if he could handle seeing you melt into a lovestruck puddle at his admission.

Diluc dances with you in spring, under the warm glow of lanterns and the taste of grape juice staining his tongue. He dances with you, and it smells of the Windwheel Asters that crown your head and mint jelly on your breath.

He tugs you a little closer, just because.

SUMMER

If you were to ask Diluc how he felt about these big "charity" events, he would scoff in your face and lecture you about how they were nothing more than money traps set up by the Knights of Favonius.

He would say it purely out of spite, of course, mostly because he knows Jean is too kindhearted to allow for such shady business. Openly, at least.

His distaste for the Knights and all they stand for are not hidden deep in his heart. He sneers when there's a casualty— mocks their inefficiency at any given opportunity.

You never knew him to be such a bitter man when it came to the Knights. Diluc was good at keeping up his polite and indifferent charade to their practices.

It wasn't until the beginning of summer when you realized his loathing. It was their own incompetence that led a horde of slimes directly into the city, nearly smashing your little shop to bits.

You've never seen him so furious.

Outwardly, he was simply curt with them. He had only a few choice words lined up when they apologized with their heads hung low, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest.

Inwardly, you could see the anger swimming in his eyes.

That was three weeks ago. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to think that just three weeks ago, they were leading danger straight into your shop and now here they are, asking you to donate to their cause.

"You're sulking," you tell him from across the table. He immediately sits up straight, jaw relaxing.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know," you smile at him, moving one of your pawns forward, "I think the Knights are happy you're here. Relieved, at the very least, that you don't seem mad at them anymore."

He only frowns whilst knocking your pawn over with a bishop. "I wasn't mad at them."

"You were. Even I could tell."

"They almost got you hurt."

"Almost," you remind him with a small huff. "They were just slimes! No harm no foul."

You make a fatal move, but he doesn't even gloat because he's too busy cursing out the Knights in his head.

"I just find it in poor taste that they would ask for your hard-earned Mora after endangering you like that." He shrugs you off nonchalantly, as if you can't see the fire blazing in his eyes at the mere thought of it. 

You blink at the chessboard as he checkmates you, slumping back in your seat with a tiny pout. "Once again, you've bested me."

"It seems I have," he says, lips finally twitching up into a small smile.

"Don't you ever get tired of beating me at this game? I sure do."

"That's a shame. Same time tomorrow?"

He watches with a laugh as you grumble in irritation. You can't help but notice how quiet it is, even over the chatter of the people in the plaza. There's something off about him today.

It's clear that he doesn't want to be here, volunteering his time to the Knights for a cause he has no faith in. It was a favour for Jean, he told you, to which you mused that he owed a lot of friends favours.

To be a noble in Mondstadt, and especially the wealthiest, Diluc is obligated to attend all sorts of gatherings he detests. You can see it written all over his face.

"Hey," you call out to him softly, leaning over the table. Your voice is a hush as you tell him: "Let's get out of here."

He glances around. "I'm expected to be here, you know?” He laughs once more, though he seems to be considering your offer. He decides to indulge you. "Where would you like to go?"

You think for a moment, brows furrowed. He watches the minute twitch of your lips, the creases of your smile; everything about you is so alive and beautiful.

Then, you point. You point high, with a breathless giggle. 

"There," you say, gesturing toward the giant statue of Barbatos, "let's go up there."

He almost flat out rejects you, wanting to scold you about how dangerous it would be and that, for someone without a vision, you sure do have the gall to even suggest it.

But then he sees the excitement twinkling in your eyes, which are already scrunched up from how big your smile is. How could he refuse?

Diluc ends up trailing behind you, inconspicuously hugging his coat close to his body. You don't realize why until you're standing at the feet of the statue.

You gasp at the bottle of wine tucked into his coat. "Did you steal that?"

"The Winery provided all of this. I would hardly consider it stealing," he chuckles.

You nudge him with your elbow, a grin on your face as you accept the bottle into your hands. "I didn't know you were so sly, Diluc."

"I used to do this all the time when I was a kid."

"Steal wine bottles?" You look at him with wide eyes and an impressed smile.

"The maids forbade me from drinking at the Winery's banquets. Try telling a thirteen year old boy not to do something, see what happens," he huffs in amusement.

"You don't even like wine," you remind him. Diluc only hums in response, grabbing it and stuffing it back into his coat as he takes his first leap up the stone.

"Consider it a gift.” He twists around so he can look down at you where you stand, watching him with a mixture of fascination and horror.

His hand extends to yours. For as many times in this life as he is willing to offer it, you would take it.

He helps haul you up to the very top, barely breaking a sweat as he watches you climb beside him. After all, he withstood countless adversaries in his time in Snezhnaya: climbed mountains as tall as the sky with nothing but his claymore. 

When you ask how he's so calm about this, he only tells you that he used to climb to the roof of the manor when he was a boy.

He had a lot of secrets kept caged up in his body, you realized many months ago. Diluc was never too vocal about his time before he returned to Mondstadt.

You do remember, however, that at the banquet they threw for him to celebrate his return home, he seemed cold and indifferent to the warm welcome. In fact, it was like his mind was entirely elsewhere. You can picture the day well— it was the largest order of flowers you'd ever received after all.

You're glad he's settled back into Mondstadt, at least. You just never thought you'd have a chance to actually meet him.

He watches as you nervously teeter over to the edge of the statue, peering down with a nervous gulp. You relax when his hands steady you, gently guiding you to sit down in a more safe position.

"I've never been so high up off the ground!" You cry out toward the city, feet dangling over the edge of the Archon's hands.

"It's nice, isn't it? Much different than the kind of heights you feel on Dragonspine."

You take in a long breath of fresh air, as if savouring the wind at this height. "It's pretty.” You finally conclude. There's a dreamy sigh on your lips that makes him laugh.

He uncorks the bottle he lugged up with him, passing it over to you. Instead of taking it, your head tilts back and he takes the opportunity to pour the wine past your lips himself.

Silence festers between you two as he pours the sweet alcohol into your mouth, all rational thought being carried away by the wind.

He isn't sure how long you stay that way: shoulders touching, hair blowing, and feet dangling in the air. For someone who wanted to climb the statue to see the city, you sure are being shameless in your staring directly at him.

You're looking at him in a way that makes him melt— eyes so laser focused and crinkling with your smile. You look at him like he's the only person in the world. Right now, he might really be that important. His heart swells in his chest.

"What is it?" Speak your mind. Let me hear all your crazy thoughts.

"You came all the way up here with me. You came up here. With me."

You emphasize your point by extending your arms out to your sides, feeling the breeze wash over you.

He knows what’s coming next. You love clichés. And he doesn't stop you, for some reason, when you open your mouth again just as he predicted.

"I think I'm falling for you."

"I would hope not. We're pretty high up in the air."

You swat his arm with a huff, face turning a little more serious. "I mean it!"

Diluc grows quiet, looking out toward the city. His home. The place he grew up, and the place he'll spend the rest of his days. The distant sound of people chattering, water flowing from the fountain, music playing: all sounds he's grown so familiar with and yet—

"I love you."

—he never thought it could be so beautiful until he climbed up here with you.

"You love a lot of things," he muses.

"Like what?"

He looks at you softly. "Like Cecelias. Mondstadt hashbrowns for breakfast. And you say you hate the cold but I know you love it up in Dragonspine— think it looks so pretty with all the snow."

You nod, mulling over his statement before asking: "What else?"

"I know you love that orange apron; Flora's mother sewed it for you herself, didn't she? And you love Anemo slimes, think they're the cutest thing in the world even though I've seen them explode in your face multiple times before."

You're listening to him intently, watching his lips as he lists off all the things he knows about you. And he's been going for so long that you have to wonder if you've really only known him for eight months.

"You love Starfell Lake and making wishes while you blow away Dandelion seeds. You love fire seelies and tea imported from Liyue and going to charity events like this even though you don't owe the Knights any of your time."

Another silence settles between you.

"So I'm a romantic. Even then, you still won't accept that I love you?" You ask him quietly.

He hesitates only for a moment, but you still catch it. "I won't."

"What is it with you and your cynicism about romance?"

"It's not like I don't believe love exists—" He’s looking at you right now, after all: living, breathing proof that Diluc could love something. "—I just... it's not for me."

"Not for you?" You repeat back to him in disbelief. "Love is beautiful, you know. You don't even want to give it a chance?"

You're looking at him earnestly, both hands pressed against the stone of the statue beneath you as you twist to stare him down.

"It's complicated," he murmurs, tearing his eyes away from yours. In his peripherals, he can still see you facing him. He doesn't dare look at you again for the sake of his own resolve.

Love was always a messy emotion for Diluc. To love was to trust completely, to be vulnerable and open. But he's been betrayed one too many times for his heart not to ache at the idea of falling in love so willingly.

It terrifies him— to have someone holding his heart in their hands with the chance that they could crush it into dust with the snap of their fingers.

Diluc was alone for many years in the northern region of Snezhnaya. He's good at being lonely. It's a part of the air he breathes, something engraved deep into his bones, terrible and grim and consuming his flesh until he's nothing.

He hadn't even realized he had grown accustomed to it. Not until he met you. Not until you stole his heart at first sight. Not until you made him understand all those times his father would speak of his mother once she was gone. It was always easier to be alone until he met you, and suddenly you came along and flipped the whole world onto its head.

Now Diluc can't be alone— he was losing the ability to sit in solitary silence without his thoughts screaming in his ears. He was constantly thinking about you. And it was always distracting things, like wondering when he would see your smile next, or when you would ever dance with him again.

Your head falls against his shoulder, hair tickling under his chin as you rest there. As if it were a remnant of eons past, his lips find the crown of your head reflexively. And you don't pull away by any means, allowing him to be affectionate the only way he can and accepting him as he comes.

The words don't need to be said anymore. He already knows. It's a story rewritten a million times over, buried somewhere deep in his soul.

He decides that maybe, just once in this life, it would be okay to take the risk. If it was you, he would be alright.

His arm comes around your waist protectively, pulling you closer into his body as if you'd disappear with the wind if he let go. He holds you there quietly, listening to your soft murmurs.

Diluc Ragnvindr deserves to be loved, is what you're telling him.

And despite the scars littering his body and the chains wrapped around his heart, he allows himself to believe it.

Diluc loves you in the summer, in the hands of the Anemo Archon. He loves you, and it smells of Dandelion Wine and the lingering scent of sweet flowers in your hair and all the things that make him dream of you.

For the first time since he returned to Mondstadt, he doesn't feel alone.

AUTUMN

It's the anniversary.

Diluc remembers the day too well— the smell of blood and flesh and how cold a corpse is. Sometimes it's all he can think about.

He cried when his father passed, as all boys would. Then, a fire replaced the hollow sadness in his heart, something fierce and dangerous and unhinged.

Fierce and dangerous and unhinged. Descriptors that he would consider second nature to him behind closed doors of the Tavern and hidden in the grapevines of the Winery. No one would ever know the real Diluc Ragnvindr, hellbent on vengeance since he was only a boy crying at his father's grave.

It wasn't until you came along that he felt something new blooming within him— something like beautiful flowers and a heartbeat slow and steady as waves on the shore, a yearning so powerful that it displaced the ugly bitterness in his heart.

Nowadays, Diluc felt like a confusing mixture of both light and darkness— treading the thin line that separated him from living in the moment with you, and seeking revenge for the past.

He doesn't realize the conflict within him has been bubbling into a raging fire, tearing him in half from the inside out, until today.

He talked to you about his father once, over a plate of sugar-frosted slime and Liyue imported jasmine tea. It was a day like any other, with you seated across from him having an afternoon snack.

My father liked sugar-frosted slime, he told you. It was the first time he'd ever let it be known that Crepus was on his mind, ever so present. A ghost haunting him. You didn't think much of it. Diluc seemed perfectly content living through his memories.

It was coincidence that brought you here on the exact day the world lost Crepus. Or, perhaps, the nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you to get out of bed and come here.

Your son is a wonderful man, is what you first whispered to the grave. And then you couldn't stop the words from pouring out of you, rambling on and on about how he raised a good boy, and how Diluc had taken your heart the moment you laid eyes on him.

He finds you sitting there in the rain with a sad excuse for an umbrella popped up above your head. His father's grave is adorned with flowers of all kinds— a respect that no one had ever paid him before.

You don't realize how much you move him with such a simple act. He had long since lost faith both in the Knights and the citizens that once looked up to his father so much; after all, it was only he and Kaeya who ever came around to visit.

It's not until he crumbles to his knees beside you that you even notice his tears, your smile fading as he looks at you in confusion.

You're not sure you've ever seen Diluc cry before.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, head tilting into your palm when you reach forward to wipe his tears with your thumb.

"Saying hello," you respond as if it's the obvious answer.

"You... huh?"

"It would be rude to fall in love with you without at least introducing myself first."

"You didn't have to do—" Diluc gestures to the grave, "—all this."

You smile. "I wanted to.” And the truth is as simple as that.

You were too good for this world. Something beautiful in a place where only ugliness lives. He almost hates how much hope you give him.

The world was always black and white for Diluc. Recently, he's been finding it hard to distinguish the two. 

There was right and there was wrong and there you were teetering between them, balancing hope and despair. It scared him to think of all the ways he could lose you, how he could one day end up bringing flowers to a grave with your name on it just as you did for his father.

What's the point of love if all it ends with is hurt?

He's sniffling, trying to chew on his bottom lip to distract himself from the ache in his chest. You notice his sudden quietness, turning to look at him.

"Hey.” Your voice is soft, as if he would shatter if you even spoke to him wrong right now. He might. "It's just me. It's okay."

"I don't cry. I hate crying," he admits through his tears.

He can't remember when he had cried last. Was it the day he came home? Or was it longer, like during those lonely nights spent hiding away in the mountains? The only vivid memory he has with tears staining his cheeks was the day his father died.

"You don't have to be ashamed of crying," you tell him, using your thumbs to wipe his lashes. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"I'm Diluc Ragnvindr. I'm not supposed to cry."

"You're Diluc Ragnvindr," you repeat back slowly, pulling his head toward you and cradling it against your shoulder. "You're human. What's wrong with that?"

Diluc doesn't feel human. He hasn't felt human in a long time. He's been something more like a ghost wandering around the places he used to love. Memories tainted by hatred and grief, it was as if he would never find beauty in this world again.

"I'm not," he breathes. "I'm not anything."

You pry him off of you. He blinks at you through his tears.

"Do you really believe that?"

He goes quiet, only staring at you as he soaks in your earnest eyes.

"I don't know what I am. I don't know what to do in this world anymore."

He's a mess of emotions— he almost wishes he were back in Snezhnaya where everything made sense. Where his entire existence was built up of seeking retribution. To a time when he knew where he belonged.

Diluc Ragnvindr only ever knew revenge. Only ever knew how to inflict pain. Only ever knew how to break kneecaps and hide in shadows and keep his lonely body warm with his Pyro vision.

He doesn't know love. He doesn't know how to do it without fighting the fire burning in his stomach when he grieves—

"You're just Diluc. Do you ever need to be anything more than that?"

—or maybe he hasn't given it the chance it deserves. The chance he deserves.

He realizes then, what love must be. What kept him up at night, the feeling raging in his chest:

There was no corner of Teyvat he could ever call home without you anymore. He belonged here, with you.

And accompanied with this realization is something that he hasn't felt in many years. Peace. A stillness in his body and the calm in his mind which was usually racing with contemplation— something he never thought he would feel again.

And it's because of you. Only you. It would only ever be because of your love.

"Would you accept me as I am?"

You smile. "I always have."

"You don't know who I am. The things I've done."

"Are they that bad?"

"Awful."

You hum in thought, thumb mindlessly brushing his cheek back and forth. "We have all the time in the world for you to explain," you add with another soft smile, "I believe you have your reasons. I believe in you."

He laughs, exhales shaky. "You're insane."

"Am I? But I think you're falling for me anyways."

So what if he is? He can't find a single reason wrong with it anymore.

The rain has started to let up, the world around him lighting up with warm sun. And you look so radiant like this, surrounded by the fog brought in by the storm and shining in sweet sunlight.

"Do you think we have your father’s approval?"

He doesn't have to answer that. Not when you're already leaning in closer to him.

The diminishing pitter-patter of rain against your shabby umbrella fills his ears. You're so close that he swears he can hear your heart thundering in your chest. 

Diluc has always been brave; he was a terrible troublemaker of a child that grew into a body too big for a boy— some part of him that he kept locked away for the sake of living his life as his father would have wanted. If he wanted to lead an empire of a business, he would need to grow up eventually.

He's always been brave, but he was still too much of a coward to stop using his father as a way out. Because he knows Crepus would have wanted Diluc to find happiness, not vengeance.

It's about time he stopped being afraid.

"I think he wants me to tell you something."

"And what's that?" You smile.

"That in this life—" he breathes, "—in this and the next and the one after until the stars of Teyvat run out, I will love you."

You snicker. He can feel it rumbling in his own chest. "How romantic," you tease with his breath in your lungs.

He shuts you up with his mouth.

Diluc kisses you in autumn, with the golden leaves of change. Diluc kisses you warm and sweet and long. He can't remember what was filling his senses at that moment. Your bodies were too close for him to care.

WINTER

Winter was always a bothersome season.

Even in his days away from Mondstadt, in all the time he spent roaming the north, he never quite grew accustomed to the freezing temperatures and harsh weather.

When Diluc left for Snezhnaya, he left his childhood behind, too. He abandoned who he was on the doorstep of his manor, put all his funds into the hands of Adelinde with no intent of returning, and left in the middle of the night without a word.

Half of him expected to die. The other half expected to not return by choice.

For the first few months he spent adjusting to the northern climate, he tucked himself away in a hidden cavern away from the Capital where the Tsaritsa resided. He was in no condition to battle, let alone challenge a god.

He spent many days stealthily hunting down lower ranking Fatui— people that no one would miss. At eighteen years old he had enough blood on his hands to guarantee Celestia's smiting. Blood that, as he learned, does not wash off.

He had to teach himself how to travel through thick snow. Through blizzards and hail and subzero temperatures nothing alike to those felt on Dragonspine.

And when he finally returned home, battle worn and hardened and cold, he couldn't stand the snow. Every crunch under his boots reminded him of the times he had to lug around his greatsword through treacherous enemy lines. Even the sound put him on edge for incoming attacks.

It wasn't like he was ever particularly fond of the cold but for a long time, as a boy, he would simply tolerate it. He had his Pyro vision, after all, and it never truly caused him any harm.

When Kaeya received his Cryo vision, things took a turn.

The cold represented nothing but death for Diluc. It was pain and grief and sorrow— loss in magnitudes indescribable to anyone else. It was bloodshed, the terrible stench of flesh, metal on metal. It was homesickness.

There was nothing poetic or beautiful about it. It only reminded him of all the things he had lost.

He would roll his eyes when Venti sang about the first snowfall of the season. His Pyro vision would glow until the ice melted around him. It's impractical, he told you when you first met and he was guiding you back down the mountain. It doesn't do any good except make you slip and fall.

Diluc remembers quite vividly how you snorted at that. And, like always, you went on to say things that would make his head spin. Find beauty in life even where you think it doesn't exist.

He didn't heed your advice all too much, instead grumbling about how his claymore was getting heavy and that he wanted to get back to the Winery as soon as possible.

But then he found that it was hard to ignore your words. Especially when you were showing him exactly how to do it— popping frozen grapes into his mouth that were somehow a little sweeter; mixing him hot cocoa the way your mother taught you; throwing snowballs at him from behind trees and thinking you've won until he nails you straight in the face in retaliation.

Winter always brought a smile to your face. And how could he not smile when you are?

The best part of it all was that the cold made you cling to him a little closer. A little tighter. So close that he swears he can hear your heart beating in his own ears, savouring his warmth unlike anyone he'd ever met before.

"My personal fire seelie," you joked once. He pinched your cheek until you slapped his hand away and buried your face back into his chest.

Diluc is pretty certain that he hasn't been this happy in a long time. Not since before his father passed, at least. Even with the nervous sigh that leaves him, you're urging him forward.

"I can't believe you never learned how to skate!"

"It's... not something noble families would have approved of."

"But you have this whole lake in your backyard!" You gawk. He only stifles a laugh, stumbling clumsily into your arms. You catch him as if you'd done it a thousand times before.

"Show me how it's done."

"It's like dancing," you say with an encouraging grin, pulling him along with you slowly. You're half right. Some aspects of it do remind him of a warm spring night, with music playing and your laughter in his ears. On the other hand, he can't seem to keep his skates straight.

"The ice won't fall through, right?" He murmurs anxiously, nodding at the Pyro vision hung on his belt.

"If it does, I'll save you!"

"I don't think you'd be able to carry me up from the water," he deadpans.

"I'd save you," you insist.

"Really?"

"Yes, really! For as many times as you need me to save you, I will."

And you did save him. Though, that statement is better left unspoken for the sake of the heat rising to his cheeks. Instead, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you," he whispers into your skin.

Find beauty in life. Another set of words he never thought he would understand. But he's staring at beauty right in its face and it smells like Cecelias. Dances like a shooting star. Loves unconditionally.

Diluc always loathed winter, until you redefined it into a thing he missed dearly—

Home.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

crossposted to ao3!

🏷️ @rintosei hi babe its up <3

[simpforchuchu]

Written in the scars | Tsukasa x reader

Summary: Your boyfriend knows you have insecurities about your scar and trying to comfort you.

a/n: Hi! I was writing another one but suddenly this idea came up and wanted to write it shehhd 🥰 Hope you like it too ❤️🌸

Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my main language so...

Thank you and love you 🥰

Warnings: blood, injury, stabbing, fights, scars, a lot of pain, fluff i guess ?

Part2

Tsukasa silently watched his girlfriend in front of the mirror, who was carefully examining her clothes. While you were trying to decide on the scarf to tie around your neck, a thousand thoughts were bothering him.

He was aware that you had been living through hell together for months. But how long should you wait to leave the dark days behind?

Neither you nor your friends could have predicted that a normal high school fight would end so horribly that day. When someone stabbed your throat with a broken glass bottle during the fight and you slowly collapsed to the ground with blood flowing from your throat, Tsukasa knew very well that his heart had never before beaten so fast or had never been so scared in his whole life.

Neither you nor he thought you could make it. Or that a small shard of glass can take a lot from both of you…

Tsukasa had never thought that hearing your voice was a treasure for him. But he could have sacrificed his own voice for you that day, when the damage to your vocal cords caused by the cut in your throat took your beautiful voice.

When he thinks about what you've been through for months, the sweet eyeshadow color you put on your eyelid in front of the mirror made him smile unintentionally.

He wanted to cry as he remembered the days after surgery when you didn't want to see anyone. The times when he watches you with fear every night because he is afraid of you hurting yourself, the nights when you had nightmares and wake up and cry, he cries with you, the moments when you throw your phone or notebooks crying because you can't explain what you want over and over, or the evenings when you can't scream out in pain when your hand burns while cooking on the stove...

But it was the moments when you woke up silently at nights and cried secretly for a while that upset him the most. Even though he knew you didn't want to wake him up and wanted to be left alone, he couldn't stop himself from pulling you into a tight hug.

While all these moments were running through his mind, he looked at the white scarf you were wearing around your neck. He knew your voice would come back, he just didn't know when and he waited with excitement like a baby's first words. But you hated the scar on your neck so much that Tsukasa could see it clearly every time he looked into your eyes.

He slowly stood up and stood right behind you in front of the mirror. You gave a small smile in the mirror and looked at him, even if you were slightly startled as he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist.

He was looking at you with love and interest, as always. You knew he wanted to say something when he placed a small kiss on your cheek and sighed deeply.

You looked at him curiously and he nodded, stroking your cheek with his hand. You looked at him in surprise as his hand slowly moved to your neck. He blinked reassuringly and gently removed the scarf from your neck.

You looked at him in shock. He gently caressed your neck with his hand. He shook his head when you wanted to reach for your phone and didn't let you go.

"I know what you're going to say, I really do, but listen to me first"

You stopped fidgeting and slowly closed your eyes and let out a timid sigh.

“Y/n… baby… if you want to wear this scarf as an accessory, I won't say anything, but if it's to hide your scar-"

You didn't open your eyes. You couldn't. You tried to cover your neck with your hair as his hand slowly ran over the scar, afraid he might hate it. Because you did.

“Baby please look at me, open your eyes.”

He smiled when you opened your eyes and looked at him in the mirror. He tucked your hair from your neck to behind your ear with his hand and placed a small kiss on your scar.

He hugged you tighter around your waist as he saw you close your eyes and lower your head.

“I know what's on your mind. But you are wrong. This little scar doesn't affect your beauty. I love you with everything. You are beautiful with everything you have. I know it reminds you of bad memories. But I want it to remind you that you fought and how strong you are."

Tsukasa's soft voice gave you some relief. He gently grabbed your chin with his hand and lifted it up as he felt you relax in his arms.He smiled at you in the mirror as you slowly opened your eyes.

"I'm proud of you. I know this is hard for you. But we did it, we will make it. I love you, don't forget that."

You turned to him and moved your lips as the corners of your lips curled up as he whispered in your ear.

"I love you."

He smiled and placed a small kiss and looked into your eyes.

"Me too."

HnL taglist : @straysugzhpe @tiddly-winx  @ninamarie1994 @thatpoindexterpixy

[cosmosgimmethisusername]

Chapter 3 above ^^^^^^

Egghead - The island of the Future. | Monkey D. Luffy x Reader.

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Chapter 4

~ Egghead - The Land of Science. ~

A few days later in the thousand sunny:

The Crew seemed to have awakened from their winter slumber. The winter falls has sprung into deep action. After so long, when I looked up at the skies it seemed as if they were breaking free and opening for an unknown world, the waves thrashing, the thousand sunny quaking over the ocean sea.

The sun shines down on me and gives me light but there is nothing that fills my soul with joy. The wind flaps my coat like some form of rejection, ruffling the material, scratching the skin underneath before changing thoughts to the potential iceberg issues up ahead.

The iceberg that sunk the mighty ship and killed all aboard with such fright. With a shudder I am reminded that in just a matter of hours I will be going out on this same water filled vessel. In another matter of hours the boat will recreate the scene from a popular history book I had been lended from my childhood years.

The very scenario that caused many sailors to kill themselves rather than endure what came next. But how can one forget the sound of an iceberg snapping a ship apart? This very day I will find myself sailing past the massive snow-white giants with its menacing cold dark ocean floor looking for land.

For miles upon miles upon miles the ice builds to perfection and then shattering when you get too close to the surface. My journey will not be an easy voyage either, it will require skill and strength that only certain people are qualified for. The next island, it shall be a challenge we all must face even if it spits the reckoning death on ourself.

It is a trek of endurance that one must always learn, not an overnight ride that seems simple enough. But is does take time, time is something no one has much of anymore. Not those who dwell on the island and still hunt down whatever they can find, remembering what fellow folks had said back in Wano. Thinking back at the major flame incident, I lift up my coat slightly to reveal a rational burn mark that's been carefully examined and treated for.

People forget things once they leave it behind.

Perhaps we should learn from that. I never knew such rules existed in the beginning of my life. Never heard such words spoken, nor seen any for myself.

Though,  One could always think for themselves and do things however they wished. People would say different things but then again you did what you thought was right, being you.

Looking out at the horizon I am able to look far away beyond my sight but upon noticing an island, turning back to the fellow members, noticing them shouting commands at one at each other as I stood gripping the rails. Our progress shall become slower than what they were hoping for but nonetheless, We Are headed towards a new beginning...The beginning of another adventure...I guess...for us all.

"Furl the Sails! The wind is too strong!" Jinbe demands, looking off at the navigator whom seems to be complaining. "Are we close to making land, Nami?"

"Brr! It feels like we've entered an Islands Climate zone!...I guess the next island is a winter Island!" Nami shouts, shivering away from the cold, replying to the Fishman.

But her voice was almost unheard, yet again we failed to reach the next destination as soon as planned. Was it a fate of man made or naturally formed? Why do we lose so often on our journeys through life.

The waves crash on, farrowing faster then before.

It seems as though it will rip off anything that isn't fastened or tied down.

We're tired, drained and cold. As the sun has risen ever higher it takes more work to maintain a balance.

Tiredness overtakes us all and makes us lazier than ever, huddling together to keep warm. We hold on tightly while resting within our dreams. The thought of our purpose fades.

What exactly are we doing here? The moments before our captain shouts,

"Hey Nami! What in the world is that?!" His voice piercing the sky, pointing out to the strange enormous ball forming in the sky ahead.

peering over the edge with a gasp.

Standing up in front of me stands an imposing enormous ball form.

It was frighteningly big, looming larger than the buildings I had known back home. It would look like an ancient artifact compared to what we've known since. As I take a closer look, I notice that the surface of the ball is covered in intricate patterns and designs, almost like a map of some kind. I can't help but feel a sense of awe and wonder as I gaze upon this mysterious object.

Without warning, the ball begins to glow with a bright, pulsating light, causing me to shield my eyes.

"What are you... HUH?! AN EDDY CURRENT?!..BUT ITS GOING UPWARDS?"

"Yohoho! It looks like an Afro!" Brook exclaims, staring at the huge rounded ball, pointing to the current and then towards his hair.

"A rapid temperature change is dangerous! We got to run, Jinbe! We'll be swallowed up!" Nami shouts loudly, gaining the attention of everyone.

"Leave it to me!" Jinbe clamou knows they has a long way to go, they cannot afford any delays as there might not be time to make it back.

But while some leave quickly, others linger. A little ways away from them, some watching in despair, longing for their friends but knowing they can't do nothing.

"Wait! Someone's in the water!" The captain, who are leaving notices, pointing at the sea which is churning violently due to strong winds and currents.

A distant call echoes across the waves, a lady shouting for help.

"No..he's right! I can hear a lady in distress!" Sanji shouts, looking at the navigator, practically begging to turn the ship around.

"I'll cut it." Zoro blankly says, gripping onto one of his katanas, glaring at the current ahead.

He nods once, holding out the katana, its sharp blade gleaming in the light.

Sanji eyes him nervously, sensing that something's wrong but he had no idea what. Shouting, "You'd better not leave a scratch on the lady!"

Zoro glares at the Love Cook, "Do you trust me?" flashing a devilish grin, before he runs towards the current.

"Bird Dance!" Zoro yells out, cutting the current in halves, grabbing the lady.

However, before he could throw her onto the deck, she clung to the opposite edge, and was pulling herself back into the sea, clearly determined to keep her distance from Zoro due to the forceful grabbing.

Zoro yelps, anger bursting inside of him, glaring at the woman.

She continues pulling herself back, but with only five meters separating them now. It's close, so very close! So very dangerous! But...but, it could also end well. With a hard pull, Zoro managed to grab her shoulder, pulling her onto the ship.

With Sanji rushing forward, Zoro grabbed hold of her other arm, pushing her towards the cook. In disbelief Sanji shouts, "What the hell is going on?! Glaring at the Swordsman, noticing how he shoved the lady right before his eyes.

Whistling over, gaining their attention. I shout, "It's not the time for fighting you know?! I mean..Luffy and Chopper were just flown away!" Frustratingly pointing to the two in the air, wailing.

[inber]

One Condition

A/N: Thanks for the prompt my bean! 1.5k of drabble. Some spoilers for S2, but not really. Just fluff nonsense involving Yen, Jaskier, and Ciri. Enjoy~

“Is this one poisonous, too?”

Yennefer exhales sharply through her nose. Behind her, she hears some vials clatter. There comes a mumbled, 'oops'.

“Why don't you put it in your mouth and find out?” She snaps, not turning around. “You're supposed to be helping me, Jaskier.”

“I am! You said you wanted... uh...”

She does not grind the herbs in the mortar harder. Her teeth do not pinch together tighter. “Yes?”

“Honeysuckle?” Jaskier guesses, lamely.

“Bison grass.”

“Close! I was close. Anyway, is it?” Jaskier holds the jar up.

“Is it what?”

“Poisonous!”

“Jaskier.” Yennefer drops the pestle and strides over to him. She stands at least six inches shorter, but she doesn't need height nor bulk to menace. Glaring, she snatches from his cradling hands, ignoring the miffed huff he makes. “This is mint, you dullard.”

“Oh-I. I know. I was just... testing you.” He smiles the sort of smile she knows he reserves only for her; either to soothe her, or to further aggravate her.

“Go find something else to do. I need to concentrate.”

Jaskier lifts his chin up defiantly. “I've as much right as you to be here.”

“If you were being useful, I might agree.” Yennefer says, turning back to her work.

“Fine, then. I'll leave, on one condition.”

“Which is?” She asks. It's quicker to indulge him than it is to berate him. This she learned long ago.

“A kiss.”

Yennefer whips her head to face him. Jaskier taps his cheek. “Here.”

A foreign heat climbs up her neck. Yennefer dislikes it. “I'll do you one better.” She blurts, gaze skittering away from the glacier-lake blue stare he's fixed her with.

“Oh yeah?” Jaskier's voice has dropped, raspy. That odd feeling flares hotter. Yennefer grabs a stone from the bench in front of her.

“I'll give you this magic stone.”

His interest is piqued, as she hoped. Hawkishly, he examines the offering. It's pale blue, veined through with glittering white streaks, small and polished pretty. Reverently, he picks it up.

“What does it do?”

“Brings luck, protection. It's a mage thing.” Yennefer speaks loftily, uncorking the jar of bison grass she found herself.

“Ooh. Mage secrets. Alright, deal.” Jaskier says, turning the stone over and over in his palm. “I'll see you at dinner, witch.”

“Not if I see you first.”

As he exits, Yennefer breathes a sigh. She's not sure if it's one of relief or frustration or longing--

Definitely not that, no. Frowning, she steps back to the apothecary bench, picks up the pestle, and continues to mix. She's made this poultice a thousand times in her life, but she suddenly can't remember how many stalks of grass to add.

Bloody bard.

Hopefully the harmless piece of larimar she gave him will amuse him for an hour or two.

--------------------

“And that,” Jaskier lofts a hand dramatically, “is the story of how your father saved both of us on the day we met.”

Ciri eyes him with scepticism. Underneath their boots, fresh snow crunches. “I've heard the song, yes. Geralt told me all the songs you sing are embellished.”

“Embellished! Your majesty, you wound me.”

“Quit calling me that.” Ciri shoves at Jaskier's shoulder, and he pretends to stumble under the force of it.

“Oh, such a violent monarch! Alright, alright. What would you prefer I called you?”

“Ciri. My name.”

“Boring.” Jaskier tells her, pausing their wander to pick a bit of frosted foliage that has caught his interest. “All the greatest heroes have an alter ego. Did you know that Geralt chose his name?”

Ciri's eyes widen. “He did?”

“Oh, yes. All witchers do, as I understand it. I believe Vesemir vetoed his first choice—ahh, but I should not tell you such a tale. He'd throw me off the mountain.”

“Now you must!” Ciri hops in place, hands clasped together. Jaskier grins at her. Sometimes she acts her age, and it's a welcome sight to see. “Please?”

“Anyway,” Jaskier says, dismissively keeping her on tenterhooks, “all poets embellish, a little. The real story makes for a less interesting song.”

He has her caught between learning a potentially embarrassing truth about Geralt's youth, and hearing a genuine tale about Filavandrel. Jaskier watches her struggle out of the corner of his eye, trying not to smirk. They continue their idle stroll at the edge of the forest.

“What actually happened? With the elves?”

The truth won out, then. Jaskier hums, a little surprised. “Honestly? He just talked to them.”

“He talked to them?” Ciri parrots.

“Yes. Actually, he asked them to spare me. Then he listened to what they had to say, and gave them advice. He was willing--”

A sharp screech cuts Jaskier off, and the two of them freeze. Something sleek and black dives through the canopy like an archer's arrow loosed. It digs huge talons into the meat of a thick branch, spreads wings that shimmer like ground obsidian – a good eight feet across – and fixes four crooked yellow eyes on them. It's something like an enormous raven, but when its beak parts, rows and rows of jagged dragon's teeth are bared.

“What the fuck is that?” Ciri whispers.

“I-I don't think we should ask it.” Jaskier responds, voice pitched higher.

The creature lowers its head, monstrous eyes darting in all directions. Slowly, Jaskier begins to toe his way in front of Ciri. It's unspoken knowledge that any sudden movement would probably be folly.

“When I give the word,” Jaskier murmurs through a tight jaw, “you run, Ciri. We aren't far from the keep.”

“I'm not just leaving you--”

Another cry; shorter, more precise. If Jaskier didn't know better, he'd think the monster was trying to communicate. But he does know better. He's seen far too many hungry things in his life.

“Fuck it.” Jaskier spits, fingers curling around the stone in his pocket. It's warm from resting against his leg. “Face a mage's wrath, you wretched beast!”

With a strong arm, he throws the rock. Protection, Yennefer had said. Jaskier's aim leaves something to be desired; the stone bounces on the ground, shining against the snow, and lands below the winged animal's perch.

All three of them stare at it. A bolt of sunshine rolls over the surface of the larimar, reflecting the pale ripples contained within it. The raven-thing makes a noise close to a growl, and bends lower.

“Fuuuck--” Jaskier shoves Ciri behind him, the both of them backing up on trembling legs.

With an astonishingly steady grace, the abomination bends down and plucks the stone from the snow. It tilts its head at both of them, and then just as it had appeared, it is gone with a few beats of its giant wings. Bewildered, Jaskier and Ciri stare after it.

Then they are sprinting, scrambling and unsteady, straight back to the safety of the keep.

--------------------

Yennefer looks up sharply as the hall doors burst open, two figures tumbling in. She had opted to take a meal early, telling herself she was hungry, and not that she was still avoiding the other occupants of Kaer Morhen. The witchers were nowhere to be found. It wasn't as though she was privy to their plans.

“What in the name—what happened?” Yennefer stands immediately, striding to check Ciri over first.

“Big bird... thing.” Ciri pants, hands on her hips. “I haven't seen it in any books yet. It was huge!”

Alarmed, Yennefer looks to Jaskier, who nods. “We weren't far, just walking--”

“It came down from the sky!” Ciri interjects, gesturing wildly with her hands. “It had claws and fangs and--”

“Thank the gods I had that stone you gave me, Yen.” Jaskier finishes.

Yennefer glances between the two of them. No one is hurt, which she is grateful for, but the fact remains that they'd been caught so unaware. So unguarded. Jaskier's words register. “The—what?”

“The protection rock... thingy. It saved us.”

Blankly, Yennefer blinks at him. It's easy enough to read his mind; the adrenaline racing through him makes for quick access, and within seconds she's up to speed. Through his eyes, she recalls exactly what happened. Fuck. Oh, fuck.

“You really threw it?” Yennefer hisses, keeping her voice low. “You threw a rock at it?”

“Well, yeah. A magic rock.” Jaskier says. “And it worked great!”

“Can I have a protection stone?” Ciri pipes up.

Yennefer rubs her forehead with her hand. “Yes, yes of course.” Her voice trembles. “I'll make another. And another for you, Jaskier. Better ones.” That actually work, she thinks privately. “One condition, though.”

“What's that?” Ciri and Jaskier's voices mingle.

“Neither of you ever, ever tell Geralt.”

[issaxcharlie]

Someone To You

Pairing: Alive! Luke Patterson x Fem Reader

Summary: Y/N and Luke have been friends for most of their lives and have already spent some time in love, but not knowing how to jump from friends to lovers, they have been stranded in that rare transition for much longer than they should, something that does not go unnoticed neither for them nor for the members of the rock band.

A lot of Luke and Y/N fluff, and a lot of friendship between Y/N and the Sunset Curve boys💖 (oh and my usual nonsense)

Word count: +3k

Songs used: Kiss me by Ed Sheeran and Follow You by Echosmith

Two in the morning and Y/N has been lying on her bed for twenty minutes trying to go back to sleep without any success. She is about to give up and go to get her journal when an unmistakable knock on the window echoes through the room.

She gets up and turns on the lamp before going to open the lock, her best friend entering the room seconds later and closing the window again before turning to her. The second they are face to face, Y/N lunges at him, entwining her legs tightly across his waist, her face buried completely in his neck, letting the familiarity of his body and scent wash over her.

“Oh god, I missed you.” He whispers in a husky voice, putting his hands on her hips and carefully kicking off his vans with his feet, then moving to her bed, dropping her gently on her usual side.

That's when he can see the girl's face with attention, her features slightly illuminated by the night lamp and making clear that she had been awake before he arrived.

“Difficult night eh?” He asks just before pushing his body forward to jump to the other side of the bed, and she lets out a sweet wholehearted laugh when he stumbles at the last second and ends up falling on his belly on her hips. “This was supposed to be way cooler and smoother.”

“I know Lu, maybe try to just walk next time?”

“Y/N, darlin’. Rockstars don’t just walk, we have to do everything with style.” He gets up and lightly kisses her on the cheek before stepping carefully around her to lie down on his side.

“My mistake, Lucas.” She teases with a smirk and he frowns before playfully sticking his tongue out at her. “Now, what happened? Whenever you appear at the window out of nowhere, it’s because you feel overwhelmed."

He analyzes what she said silently. All the times that he has entered through that window passing through his head, as well as all the hugs and cuddles received. All the years, and feelings and memories making him feel blessed to love her. "I guess you are right, you are my safe place." Y/N's face lights up, and she confidently moves closer to give him a soft kiss on the nose. “And you are mine. Now, spill, handsome.”

He smiles at the compliment, and makes an exaggerated wink that makes her snort. “My mom made me leave the house almost impossible, I was minutes away to miss the gig. I don't understand why it's so hard for her to understand that this is what I was born to do. If I want to be someone in this life, I have to continue on this path, no matter what. I don't want to die and just vanish, I want to leave a mark. We all want our lives to be great and to be remembered." Luke drops his head against the pillow and covers his eyes with his hands, letting his annoyance out.

“I get you, and you know I will always support you.”

“But…”

“But I just want you to know this. You are someone, Luke. To me, to Reggie, Alex, Bobby, and no matter how much you guys argue, you are someone to your parents. You don't need to connect with everyone to make an impact, just with the people who matter to you.”

He moves his hands behind his head and stares in silence at the ceiling for a few seconds, and then turns to see her with the most charming smile in his repertoire. “Will you come to the Orpheum after we nail the audition?” Anyone would be disconcerted by his attitude, but for Y/N it is a typical Luke Patterson defense mechanism. Whenever he feels like the conversation is getting too heavy or when he just doesn't want to respond, he drastically changes the subject with his best smile to try and distract her.

“Of course I will, It’ll be one of the most important days of your life, I would never miss it. And I would not change you singing in my ear for anything, but there is something so special when you are on stage, it is like being in front of the microphone sets your soul on fire.” She replies with a delighted smile.

"I totally get what you mean. So, you like me to sing you to sleep, huh? C’mere beautiful." He requests before trapping her against him, his calloused fingers quickly finding her hair, stroking it gently as he sings in her ear.

“Settle down with me, cover me up, cuddle me in. Lie down with me, and hold me in your arms” He stops for a second to meet her eyes again and give her a light kiss on the forehead, before confidently singing the chorus. “Kiss me like you wanna be loved, you wanna be loved, you wanna be loved. This feels like falling in love, falling in love, falling in love.”

Y/N smiles against his neck before finally falling asleep, the peace Luke always gives her completely invading her and melting her in his arms.

In the morning Y/N snaps her eyes open when she raises her arm to wrap her best friend’s waist and finds the space empty. She sits down and finds a note on her nightstand, Luke's unmistakable handwriting peeking out due to a poorly folded sheet.

“Good morning darlin’, sorry for leaving without saying goodbye, I had to go to the last rehearsal before the auditions. After that we will pick you up to go celebrate <3

PS: you look so hot while you drool my shoulder and the pillows."

-Luke

The girl can't help but blush, and furiously examines the pillow to see if she actually did it, only to find another little note below it.

“Gotcha.” She rolls her eyes and a little laugh escapes her lips.

Today is a ridiculously important day in the lives of the boys, if they manage to be among the 10 chosen for the second part of the contest, they will compete in the legendary Orpheum for the opportunity to land a record deal.

The four of them have been working like crazy even though the situation with their families has been getting worse in recent weeks, none of them have even thought about giving up. Without much to do during her day off, Y/N allows herself to remember the feeling of being in Luke's arms, the conversation she had with Alex and Bobby just a few days before in the back of her head.

“Why are we doing this again?” Alex asks clearly annoyed while Bobby and Y/N laugh, turning to see Luke and Reggie jamming some songs across the sidewalk, in front of one of the hottest clubs in LA.

“Something about making the band better known before auditions.” she reports, as she closes the buttons on Luke's bleached jean jacket she's wearing.

“I understand that, but couldn’t he wait til tomorrow? We practiced all day, I’m tired as fuck.” The blond replies, getting irritated from exhaustion.

Bobby yawns, his eyes getting heavier as he rests his head in Y/N’s shoulder. “Muffin, I swear, your man has infinite energy.”

“He is not my man, Bobs.” She answers as she rests her head on his, ruffling his hair gently.

"Well maybe you should let him know, because he refers to you as his girl all the time." Bobby informs her, raising his head to see her reaction.

“He does?” Even in the dark both boys can see how red her cheeks are, and how the smile on her face grows with each passing second. Bobby decides to take a chance and keep teasing her.

“My girl is so insanely talented, that’s my sweet girl, my girl said this and I thought it was so freaking awesome because I’m hopelessly in love with her.”

“Man, that was so accurate. 10/10.” Alex replies while laughing, they lean in to highfive above her head, and she can't help but blush even more at her friend's words.

“You guys are the worst.” She wrinkled her nose and they both turned to see each other, agreeing silently that now is the moment to ask one of the questions they had wanted to ask her for months.

“Since we met you are in this strange relationship, in which you are both aware that you are in love with each other, but neither of you does anything. What are you waiting for?" Bobby asks, indicating Alex to support him with his eyes.

“Yeah bro after 3 years, it gets kind of old.” He adds, trying to sound cool.

“I guess, we just think it is not the right time. Since you started the band he has worked tirelessly on his career as a musician and that is what I want him to focus on. We both know what is in our hearts and for now that is more than enough.” She blurts out, trying to get her thoughts in order.

“That was so cheesy I want to die.” Alex answers in reflex, and his eyes go wide when he realizes what he said.

“Oh my God, Alex. Go away! I will never open my soul to you again.”

The girl blushes again, a small smile at the corner of her lips as she remembers how after that her friends continued to tease her with Luke and called her Mrs Patterson for the rest of the night, both she and Luke totally embarrassed when they continued to tease them in the truck on the way home. She decides to get out her notebook and try to write a song, which she hadn't done since Luke formed Sunset Curve, and by the time she finished she had just some minutes before the boys arrived.

She managed to get ready in time, but what she found when she opened the door was not what she expected. The face that greeted her was Reggie's and not Luke's as always, and the sad little smile on the bassist's face wasn't normal either.

She instantly hugs him, making soft circles with her fingertips on his iconic leather jacket.

“Don’t worry about me, sunshine, I’m fine. But he needs you.” He takes her hand and walks toward Bobby's old truck, and Y/N is even more confused when she meets his beaming smile as they climb into the back of the vehicle. Alex is smiling too, but he looks clearly anxious, and Luke is nowhere to be found.

"Can someone explain to me what happened? Where is Luke?"

“We did it, muffin!” He embraces her excitedly, his clear happiness reassuring the stressed girl.

“Congrats guys! I’m so proud of you!” He released her and she hugs Reggie with her left arm and with her free one takes Alex's hand, who takes it in his and fondly kisses her knuckles.

“Thank you Y/N, but going back to Luke, we need your help. Things didn't go as smoothly as we expected and how to put it nicely… he lost it.” The blond informs her while anxiously playing with his necklace.

“You are the one who always shows him the way.” Reggie says with a bigger smile this time.

“Okay, start the truck Bobs, my man needs me.” Alex snorts a laugh and Bobby fulfills her request after smiling teasingly at her.

“You told Bobby he wasn’t your man.” Alex remarked with a smirk, turning his head toward the back seat to look into her eyes.

“And you told the boy at the club that you didn't know Reggie so you wouldn't have to give him his number. What's your point?” She answered swiftly with a mirrored smirk.

The drummer tries to counter attack but fails miserably, instead whispers a “...Well played.” and looks back to the front of the road.

“Was he cute?” Reg asks with genuine curiosity, and they all debate whether the boy was Reggie’s type or not on the way to where Luke is.

The boys leave her in the big park where the girl already imagined her best friend was, and she walks directly to the place where they sat millions of times throughout her childhood and adolescence, in their little corner of paradise. It doesn't take her long to find a disgruntled Luke sitting against their tree with his guitar three feet away, lying on the grass.

“You look so hot when you are frustrated.” Luke looks up and calms down when he meets her eyes. “I think you are the one who needs a song to relax now.” She adds, pointing out at the guitar. He nods and she picks it up, sitting between Luke's legs, her back leaning against his chest.

She blushes as she begins to play the song she finished composing just an hour ago, grateful that he can't see her face because of the position they are in. “I thank God for you all the time. Someone who knows my faults, but loves me despite them all. And you, I'll follow you just like that. Doesn't matter how far, If I have you, I have it all.”

She feels him kissing her hair, his heart beating just as fast as her own. “I think I found my soulmate, yes I do. I think I found the one who knows me. I don't wanna think about what it'd be like without you. Anywhere, I’ll follow you anywhere.”

When the song ends she freezes for a few seconds and Luke takes the opportunity to take the guitar and move it to the side, so that he can hug her closer to him, his arms around her waist while his chin rests on her shoulder.

“Your voice always shows me the way home.” Luke whispers sweetly in her ear, and Y/N instantly remembers Reggie said something similar in the truck, which means Luke had probably already expressed that thought to his friends, causing her to melt in his arms. She guesses it’s her turn to apply the famous Luke Patterson defense mechanism.

“What happened? I know you guys did pass, Bobby was so happy he wanted to cry.”

“We passed literally with the last ticket. They said they couldn’t see Sunset Curve, just another wannabe garage band, definitely not material for the big leagues.”

“Wow, that’s rough. And how did you react?”

"Reggie and Bobby held me by the arms and Alex by the back to stop me from going berserker." She smiles softly, imagining the scene clearly, and stretches her neck to see the guitarist's face.

“Lu, what else is bothering you?” He looks deep in thought, like he's forming multiple ideas in his head.

“I don't approve of everything they said, but I think maybe they have a point. I spent so much time trying to get the band to be material for a discography that I neglected our essence."

“Okay, then what’s the next move?”

“I have an idea, but I can’t do it without you.” He admits, staring deeply at her with his beautiful hazel eyes.

“Good thing you don’t have to. Luke, remember when we first met?” She asks, trying to distract him from his problems at least for today.

“Yeah, we were six. I told you I wanted to be a rockstar, and you said Lucas wasn’t a rockstar name, that I had to change it immediately.” He recalls with a soft smile.

“After that day you got angry every time someone dared to call you by your name.” She remembers the scene with a laugh.

“You have to admit, little Y/N was wise, you wouldn't have a band if you were still a Lucas.” He chuckles, caressing her hair lovingly., and she leans at the touch.”

“From that day I knew that I always wanted to be by your side. All my life I have tried to be someone, someone for my parents, for my friends, for the public, but I have never had to try with you.

I've always been someone for you... and that's more than enough. You've always known who I am, even when I'm not sure myself. You have always been patient and have loved me unconditionally, and I want you to know that you can always expect the same from me. god, I know since I was a kid I would do anything for you. I need you, I’m tired to wait for the correct moment, because every moment with you feels right.”

“Lu… is this a love confession?”

“I- yeah. But it’s so hard, I feel so many emotions right now and I really want to kiss the hell out of yo-” Y/N pulls him towards her connecting their lips hungrily, both melting into each other's mouths. He bites her lower lip slightly and separates a few seconds to admire her face, her eyes shining with love and lust.

“Darlin’, you can admit now your thing for rockstars. That’s exactly how you see me when I’m on stage.”

“I’ll admit it as soon as you admit you pretended to drown in the pool last year so I could give you mouth-to-mouth.”

“I would never do something like that… again.” They both laugh adoringly and Luke kisses her hard, determined to make up for all the lost time.

“Hey lovebirds, it’s time to go, Alex is minutes ago to snap at Reg and I don't want to end in the middle again, Reggie bit me last time.” They part abruptly, looking up at Bobby with daggers in their eyes.

“You can’t be all annoying all the time about our relationship and then ruin a moment like that.” she says clearly frustrated.

“Wow, eager much, muffin? someone is already whipped huh?” He jokes, causing Luke to put his finger in his mouth and then in his friend's ear.

“Bobby If you don’t shut up I swear-” She starts to fight, but he interrupts her.

“Are you guys dating now?” They both turn to see each other and smile, Luke wipes his hand on Bobby's shirt as they start to walk to the truck and entwine it with Y/N’s.

“Yeah, yes we are.” He declares with a majestic smile.

“Dammit I lost the bet to Alex. He said this was finally the year and I bet on another five.”

“Five? Really?” The girl asks, unable to believe what she hears.

“What? You have been in this strange relationship for about 12 years, five more years would be easy peasy. Reggie bet that you would make your lives with someone else and meet in 20 years to realize that it was always you." He informs them as they reach the vehicle, she looks in shock for a moment but then recovers and feings anger.

“Yeah, that’s it we are walking.” She decides, pulling Luke onto the sidewalk.

“You're just looking for an excuse to make out with your new boyfriend, you never get mad at us, not even the time Reggie stuck gum in your hair.” Bobby calls her out, and Reggie rolls the window down to emphasize that it was an accident.

“Okay yeah, I want to make out with my boyfriend and stick my tongue down his throat because as you mentioned, I've been waiting for many years to be able do it. So get lost or admire the show.” Reggie quickly closes the window again, and Bobby makes a disgusted face before almost running to the driver's seat.

“I’m so in love with you.” He admits with loving eyes, and she stands on tiptoe to fill him with light kisses on the forehead, nose, cheeks and lips. “I’m so in love with you, Lu.”

“Hey darlin’, I know you said the tongue in the throat thing to scare them away but…” He tries to explain himself, but she stops him knowing exactly what he wants to say.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m kissing the hell out of you as soon as we get home.” She reassures, caressing his hand.

He lets out a big sigh of relief. “Good.” A big smile on his face while pressing her hand a little harder to make sure this is actually happening.

Thanks for reading ✨

Taglist: @writerinlearning, @strangerthanfanfiction713 @thebloodthirstyvampress, @kinda-really-lost, @kcd15, @magnet-girl, @aliandthephantoms, @stxrkspidey, @pinkrockstar19, @s0uz4s, @shycupcakealissa @cookiebuba, @fangirlangioma, @sageellsworth05, @twist3dtinkerbell, @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve, @caitsymichelle13, @ifilwtmfc @bibliophilewednesday @totomoshi, @siennanoelle01, @lunashadow6955, @bookfrog247, @morganayennefertyrell, @kiss-themoongoodbye, @rachelle3musicals, @imsydneywalker, @really-dont-forget-it @agentstarkid @talksoprettyjjx @kaitieskidmore1 @lukeys-giggle @katie-navarro @crybabyddl @cocopuffs0211 @marvel-ousnesss @tuttigunner @dpaccione @justalittleweirdoo

[santiagogarcia]

cold hands, warm heart

Pairing: Llewyn Davis x fem!Reader

Summary: Llewyn's cold and wet and he doesn't have a place to stay for the night, so you bring him inside. As one does.

Rating: E/M (18+)

Content warnings: explicit sexual content (unprotected p in v sex), recreational drug use (pot), strong language, reader has a broken foot, modern setting

Word count: 2.2K

A/N: This was my contribution for @sergeantkane’s Oscar Fandom (Valentine’s) Fic Exchange back in February. But since I was on a health-related hiatus, it got published on AO3. I’m finally posting it here. Obligatory: I’m more gifmaker than writer, English isn’t my first language, and my spelling is a wildly inconsistent combination of British and American.

For @wasicskosgirl​

A flurry of pain-induced curses rises from two floors below and you peer down through the fire escape grille. A man, poorly dressed for the weather, with a headful of drizzle-softened Roman curls and a guitar case, nurses the stinging fingers of his right hand. They’ve narrowly escaped being amputated by the Allen’s heavy, faulty sash window. Yeah, Marty’s been meaning to ask the super to fix that.

“Hey,” you call down, your breath misting the frigid mid-February air, “you okay?”

He blinks up through snowflakes floating down like cherry blossom petals. “I guess?” He kneads his wounded fingers into the palm of his left hand. “Just so you know, I’m not breaking and entering. You don’t need to call the cops or anything.”

You know. You recognised him immediately. “It’s Llewyn, right?”

A frown knits his brows. Warily, he asks, “Do I know you?”

“Not really. I see you come and go every other week, though. Marty and Sue must really like you.”

“Like is a strong word," he says, with a snort. "I think they just have a high tolerance for my bullshit.”

Your baked laugh—too loud and girlish—echoes in the narrow alley. “Can you get in?”

He shakes his head. “Latch’s caught. Looks like I’m locked out.”

“They leave you a key?”

“They’re not that tolerant.”

It's not like you're shouting, but your voices carry in the close air and neighbours are already yelling at you to shut up. You laugh it off and wave Llewyn up to your floor.

He gives the window to the Allen’s apartment a forlorn, longing look—as if he just blew through Plans A through Z for the evening—and trundles up the rattling steel steps. His nose twitches when he gets to your platform and sees you wrapped up in an old comforter like a human burrito, nursing a hand-rolled joint. “That what I think it is?”

“It’s medicinal,” you say, innocently, nodding at the orthopaedic boot encasing your fractured foot and offer him the spliff.

He hesitates, like it’s some kind of trap, then shrugs out a ‘why not’ and sits beside you. “Llewyn Davis.” He offers you his hand, fingers poking out of frayed gloves.

You give them a cursory examination. “I don’t think there’s any permanent damage. Always hurts more when it's cold.” But, just in case, you don’t let go of his hand, incubating it between your gloves.

“That your professional medical opinion, Doctor…?”

He’s fishing for a name, which disappoints you, because you thought he'd remember. Most men remember the girl they get punched in the face over. “Dancer, not doctor," you correct, hoping it will jog his memory.

He glances at the boot. “Someone tell you to break a leg and you took them literally?”

“Funny. When you’re the wrong side of twenty-five old injuries start to add up.” You don’t want to embarrass yourself with the truth: that you tripped over your own feet.

Llewyn dips his chin into his scarf and wraps his free arm around his legs, prompting you to share your comforter. He huddles gratefully beneath it and you can feel the damp through your parka. “What happened to your coat?”

“I’m between coats right now. It’s—” He passes you the joint and tries a name on you that almost offends you. “Right?”

“Not even close. You really don’t remember me at all, do you?” Were you really that forgettable?

“Nonono—you're the pretty girl at the Allen’s New Year’s Eve party.”

You roll your eyes. That was almost smooth, except there were a lot of pretty girls at that party.

“Waitwaitwait, it’s—” His second guess is so close you decide to finally tell him who you are. A smile of recognition and realisation dawns on his face. “Yeah, that's it. I remember your boyfriend, too. Kind of a jerk, as I recall.”

“So were you,” you point out and Llewyn doesn’t disagree with you.

“I was kind of a sorry mess that night. I wouldn’t’ve hit on you if I’d known you were with someone. Your boyfriend gonna come out here and punch me for talking to you again?”

“I’m between boyfriends right now. And if it’s any consolation you were right about him: he was kind of a jerk.” But you don’t want to ruin your high by discussing your ex. You nod at the guitar case at Llewyn’s feet. “I’ve seen you perform a couple of times.”

“Yeah?”

“At Arliss and that place on West Twenty-Sixth—”

“The Owl Bar?”

“What a weird place.”

“I know, right? It’s almost creepy.” He steals a glance at you, looks away so you don't accuse him of staring. “Would I have seen you on, I dunno, like Broadway or something?”

“I was never that good of a dancer. I teach four-to-seven-year-olds the basics of ballet over at the Academy.” The snow’s coming down fast and heavy now and you brush the flakes crowning Llewyn’s curls. “Think we’d better get inside. You know if you don’t have a Plan B, you can stay here tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll figure something out.”

“Now?” It’s after midnight. “Llewyn,” you reason with him as he helps you to your feet, “unless you’re planning to murder me, my roommate and her cousin, it’s fine. Really.”

“You got a couch I can sleep on?”

“Couch is taken." You explain your roommate’s cousin has an audition at Julliard in the morning. Llewyn starts to say something about the floor being fine, but you cut him off. “You can sleep with me.” Shit, that came out wrong. “In my room I mean.”

◻️

It feels like you’re back in high school even though you’re a grown-ass woman and neither your roommate nor her snoring cousin would have any objections to you bringing someone home. You usher Llewyn into your cosy lamp-lit room and tell him to remove his clothes.

He blinks at you with lashes so stupidly long and thick you’re sure they brush his cheeks. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t mean all of them. Jesus. I’m gonna lay them over by the radiator, dry them out.” You grip a fistful of his sleeve. “I don’t know how many blocks you walked in the rain, but you’ll be lucky if you don’t catch a cold, or worse.”

Timidly, Llewyn shrugs the corduroy jacket off his shoulders. You won't understand until much later that it’s not being stripped down to his underwear that embarrasses him—he's not shy in that way. It’s your kindness. It’s unfamiliar to him; something he’s unaccustomed to navigating. While you hobble out to the living room as quietly as possible, he sits tentatively on the edge of the bed, figuring you’ll throw him a spare pillow and a blanket for the floor. So when you return and tell him he’s welcome to share your bed, he’s even more awkward and out of his depth. The floor is an option—whatever he’s more comfortable with (you make sure he knows that)—but you seem so comfortable and unbothered by his presence that he decides to take you up on your offer.

And it's not like either of you plan to have sex or that it even crossed your minds (well, maybe a little). It sort of just happens; born of an unspoken need that you both share, and it starts when Llewyn shifts restlessly and his hand brushes the skin at the small of your back where your tank top has ridden up.

“Jesus!” You stiffen beneath the duvet.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I wasn’t tryna cop a feel, all right?”

“It’s not that—Are your hands always that cold?” It feels like someone backed you against an icicle.

“I can put the gloves back on…”

But he doesn't need to do that. You reach behind you for his arm and wrap it around you, lacing your fingers through his and your body heat slowly does the trick.

“Better?” His breath warms the back of your neck and he shifts to close the space between the two of you.

“A little.” You squirm and clamp your thighs together to stem the first prickle of the heat that’s begun to throb between your legs—involuntarily pressing the curve of your ass into Llewyn’s crotch. He responds receptively, even before an apology has formulated in your brain.

“Can I touch you?” His voice is husky, filled with the gentle promise of sex and you’re immediately intoxicated by it. If you’re really honest with yourself, your attraction to Llewyn was instantaneous; you’ve wanted him since that New Year’s Eve party. You think you might have left with him if your dickhead of a boyfriend hadn’t made a scene and Llewyn hadn’t escalated things.

In answer you guide his hand down beneath the waistband of your pyjama bottoms and inside your underwear. Llewyn pushes into the V between your thighs to palm your cunt and you roll onto your back, hoisting your hips and ass to get your PJs and underwear down over your thighs. He thumbs your clit with skill and attentiveness, as if he were strumming at the strings on his guitar. The appreciative moan that escapes you is muffled as his mouth meets yours. Tonguing at the seem of your lips, he plunges a probing middle finger inside you. Blindly, you feel for Llewyn's boxers and tug them down over the swell of his ass until his arousal bobs free and you’re both half-naked.

“Fuck,” you hiss as he slides a second finger, knuckle-deep, inside your pussy. With one hand threading through his thick dark still-damp curls, the other takes his length and begins to stroke him.

“You want me inside you, dove?”

“Yes.” Fuck yes. You know he’s just as eager for you when he begins thrusting into your palm.

Llewyn withdraws his fingers to help both of you out of your remaining clothing and then grips the base of his cock, lining it up with your entrance. Your petulant whine at his aching, teasing slowness is swallowed by a gasp when he finally pushes inside your heat. With a curse of tortured ecstacy, he fills you, his breath hot and damp against your skin. For an agonising moment that stretches unbearably, he stills—to let you adjust to him, to appreciate the delicious fullness—until you half plead, half order him to move. Llewyn doesn’t need to be told twice, rocking into you with shallow, measured thrusts that build to a feral crescendo; rough, hurried, balls-deep and cervix-bruising. He tells you how good you feel, how warm and wet and soft you are and your pussy clenches around him as if to draw him deeper, wanting him to hollow you out.

“Can I cum in you?” He’s close to his climax, breathing heavily.

You tilt your head to nod against his shoulder and moments later Llewyn loses himself inside you with a cascading, half-choked moan of release. The pulsing knot at your core unravels, the walls of your cunt spasming to send warmth and eye-fluttering shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. He fucks you through your orgasm, his pace slow and languid and sensual until you come down and he softens, his cum-smeared and pussy-slicked cock slipping out of you.

Llewyn shifts to your side, pillowing his head in the crook of your neck, arm slung across your breasts. Your bodies are sheened with cooling sweat and you pull the covers up over you before fisting your hand into his locks. A trembling sigh escapes him and his grip tightens around you, holding onto you like a drowning man hanging onto a buoy. Your bladder feels uncomfortably full and your cast-encased foot itches like a motherfucker but you don’t move. You don't let go of Llewyn Davis, either.

◻️

“You know I’m playing at The Small Blues Club tonight,” he tells you at the door, whispering because the Julliard cousin is still fast asleep on the couch.

“I did not know that,” you say.

“It’s over on Bleecker. You could come…if you wanted—that is, if you’re not doing anything. I don’t know what your plans are…if you have plans.” He rambles uncertainly. In the snowed-in, washed-out watercolour dawn there’s something diffident and a little standoffish about him; as if he knows the light exposes him for what he really is: a struggling musician trapped in a Kafkaesque existence, the future bleak as the New York skyline in winter. Probably not something a pretty ballet teacher with an apartment and a good credit score would be interested in. “Maybe I could buy you a drink afterwards? I know I’m kind of doing things ass-backwards but I'd really like to see you again. Last night wasn't just—”

“On Bleecker?” You rescue him from himself. He’s so wrong about you: you are interested. “What time should I be there?”

Llewyn scratches his forehead like you've surprised him with a complex math problem. “Any time after seven?” Like it's no big deal; trying to conceal his excitement the way people who are used to being disappointed often do. “That mean you’ll be there?”

“It’s not a date,” you warn, in your most serious teacher-voice.

“Oh, no,” he agrees, nodding along earnestly, “definitely not that.” It's his eyes that give that give him away: big and brown and puppyish, and smiling.

You both know it definitely is.

[hellotvshowtrash]

Grief (W.M)

Summary: Wanda unsuccessfully tries to move on from Vision.

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: loss, death, depictions of Vision’s dead body (nothing we haven’t seen before) grieving, depression, guilt, Wanda blaming herself for Vision’s death. Also wandavision spoilers

A/N: hello! This is my fic for @sventeen-daybreak’s writing challenge as well as the May MCU prompt challenge! Leave a comment/reblog/like if you enjoyed!

Wanda laughs, but it doesn't sound like her. Her ears don't recognize the sound which is more like static than giggles. The man sitting across from her is unfamiliar, some brown eyed, brown haired, bland man, smiling at her like she is sunshine, but she does not want to be sunshine, not to him, at least. She doesn't even remember his name at this point.

His hand is laying on the table, expecting to meet hers halfway, and she looks at it through her periphery. Internally, she battles herself, battles the part of her that laughs at his jokes and wants to hold his hand. She lays her hand gently on top of his, layering his with hers like a blanket that hasn't been used in years. The feeling of her skin on his is alien and her subconscious yells that it's not right, none of this is right, none-

"Wanna get out of here?" The man across from her asks, his eyes gentle and kind, and she knows he means well. Her thoughts aside, this date has been going rather well and if it weren't for her, maybe they could really be something, but this man is not who she wants nor who her heart needs. This man doesn't know the intricacies of Wanda, her heart, her magic. She smiles politely and nods, letting him stand and lead her out of the crowded restaurant. The night is warm and loud, the streets of New York City buzz with chatter and the smell of exhaust.

Still hand in hand, the conversation between them doesn't cease or even pause. Wanda will give credit where credit is due, this man is easy to be with. His voice is American, no accent to be found. No prose while speaking, no poetic bliss. She finds his voice to be velvety and smooth to the ears, but sandpaper to the heart. She realizes he doesn't know where he is going as he walks with her back to her apartment, he's shy enough to not admit that he knows exactly who she is, that she can defend herself perfectly well, but he's chivalrous, he’s down to earth, he’s not blowing his shot.

She smiles as he talks about his family, his sister and her children who are his favourite little kids in the world and how being an uncle is amazing and how someday I'd really like to have a family of my own, y'know? He doesn't know it but he strikes just about every nerve possible in those few sentences and her chest tightens. Pietro, mom, dad, Vis- all in one horrible fell swoop. She takes a deep breath, her smile unbreaking. Chatter continues, mostly one-sided as Wanda pretends to listen to his voice. She isn’t focused on the words he’s saying, just the burning feel of his hand in hers and how wrong it is.

Wanda assumes he’s stalling as they get closer to her building, her dingy one-bedroom apartment is waiting for her, and she can feel the sanctuary she has found there. They approach the building, and he pauses, he’s finally stopped talking and is deliberating on what to say next. Before he had a chance to say anything, Wanda speaks up.

“I had a really nice time tonight, thank you.” She smiles again, it’s small and kind, and she’s anxious to get inside.

“I did, too. Thank you for coming,” he’s beaming now, like he can see their second and third and last date together. He steels himself and pulls her close by her hand, his other cupping her waist. She’s surprised when his lips meet hers, but she lets her eyes close and her other hand rest on his shoulder. He pulls away and smiles at her. “I hope we can do this again, soon. Goodnight, Wanda.” He gives a small wave and begins to walk in the direction he came.

Wanda releases a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, the ache in her chest lessening as she watches the man walk away. She curses herself for not remembering his name, it’s the least she could have done.

It’s a fitful night’s sleep. Not that she ever rests anymore. Her waking moments are consumed with thoughts of Vision and his dull red and grey and lifeless form. How it was her who did it - who killed him- the first time and how he had to suffer a second time. How he wasn’t coming back. Her dreams weren’t any better.

She’s back in the S.W.O.R.D headquarters, staring at Vision’s body and her words come back to her, “I can’t feel you.” Here, those words ring true over and over again echoing through her ears. It is when Vision’s mouth opens in a gasp, and she still doesn’t feel him. Instead, she feels a horrible dread because she’s had this dream, over and over again, and she knows what happens next. Vision’s body is no longer dissected and on different tables, he is put back together in a tangled jumble of wires and sparks, and he’s still dead. His eyes are still blank, he is swaying in front of her in this new black space - what happened to the surrounding lab? - His arms reach for her, and she feels her legs carry her toward him. She still feels the love for him, the pain for him, but she still does not feel him. She wraps her arms around him, around the stitches and the incorrect parts.

Something is different, in this dream. Vision looks down at her with his horrifying eyes, and he examines her, that much she can feel.

“Wanda, darling,” His voice is monotonous and fading, like his program is trying to restart. “Someone else has kissed you.” He observes.

“It was a mistake, Vis, I-,” Wanda begins to speak but Vision’s color begins to flood through him, vibrant red and silver. Her breath escapes her lungs - how could she forget how beautiful he is? He is repaired, whole, made anew and he is holding her in his strong arms, just as he used to.

His eyes are alive now, and they’re analyzing her. They bore into hers and she presses a hand against his cheek, a tear sliding down her own. “When you look into his eyes,” Vision begins to speak and Wanda’s memory of the man’s mocha eyes flash back into view, crinkling as he smiles at her from across their shared table . “Do you think of mine?” His lips graze hers gently, never actually planting. She can’t handle the idea of never kissing him again.

Wanda’s breath has left her lungs and she can’t breathe. She’s drowning, she’s sure she is.

“Vision, he is nothing to me.” She chokes and blinks, and Vision is back to his muddled red, dead eyes seeing her soul. He cocks his head and pushes her away from him, sending her stumbling backward. “Vis, please,” she cries now, a sob escaping her lips.

“This is all your fault, Wanda.” His voice is loud and electric, like he’s speaking through a megaphone at her. She crumples to her knees as he continues to stare her down, and she feels so small. She sobs and cries and can’t look at him any more, her arms wrapping around herself. She can’t make herself look up at him because she knows his eyes will break her. She can’t tell if he’s still there or now as she cries, because she still can’t feel him. Guilt and fear and panic rise up her throat like bile, tasting like blood.

She’s underneath abrasive sterile lights again as the scene changes once more, she’s back in the S.W.O.R.D lab and Vision is lying motionless on the table, pulled apart in chunks. She does not try to feel him again. She knows he will not be there. His words echo around her. “This is all your fault, Wanda.”

She wakes in a cold sweat, her tears streaming freely down her face. She is exhausted and frayed and left alone in the nearly empty apartment she has for herself. She sits up and pulls her knees to her chest, letting her cries come as they please.

She can’t feel him anymore, and it is all her fault.

—

Taglist: @elijahs-wife @dumble-daddy @alwaysfangirlingish @akshi8278 @nikmikaelsonswife @njeancastro316 @brown-eyed-babes

[starshipsofstarlord]

Growing Pains | TFW

Request:  Hey! Can I please request a platonic x reader with team free will 2.0? The reader gets turned back to a toddler by a witch and they try to ask Rowena for help but, the spell lasts for a week and it's just plain chaotic. The reader is extremely clumsy and hungry but knows a few words like "Hungry" and "Thirsty". The rest is up to you 😊. Thanks in advance!

A/N: It is a little different from the request, so I hope you don’t mind, also it’s not great. And I’m terribly sorry for the wait, I hope you can understand why xxx

Walking around the lab, you screwed your face up at the mess. It was like toddler’s had been let loose in the room, there was glass broken upon the floor, paper thrown out of the shredder, and worst of all, no one to condemn for the death of the scientist.

Sighing, you shut your eyes, leaning back into one of the counters. “So, the guy that was killed had like a dozen or so kids and we can’t find a single one of them, or the mother?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose as Cas circled the room once more, seeing if he could find anything that your human eyes had missed. But alas, there was no ultimatum, nothing that could direct the pair of you to answers.

“That sounds about right.” Dean’s gruff voice came from the doorway, stepping on shards of glass as he came closer to the two of you. “Although at this time, I am calling shots on the mom being the killer.”

“We don’t even know if this is up our alley Dean.” You sighed, opening your eyes and looking at the older hunter. “Did you get anything from the co-workers?” 

“Not a peep.” His tone was almost too cheerful, especially considering the circumstances. The group of you were nowhere near completing this case, and all he could think about was the burger joint around the corner. You were close enough to it, that you would give in and accompany him. “Who’s hungry?”

“After the sight of the guts strung in the ceiling fan,” you looked up to emphasise your point, “I think I may have lost what appetite that I had left.”

“Bad luck. You snooze, you lose.” With that he left the room, presumably heading off to stuff his face. It was impossible not to roll your eyes at his childish behaviour, although in all fairness, you should have been used to it by now. However your dear angel friend remained with you. 

“We should meet with Sam and Jack, and see if they have found anything in the house.” Castiel spoke, confused by the lack of evidence in this death. There was nothing that could have helped, even the majority of the man’s body was gone.

“Why would someone have that many children?” It was a rhetorical question, but just the thought of your body going through it’s natural process that many times made you shiver.

“To repopulate.” Cas put simply, although that was a straightforward fact. But that was not what you had meant, admittedly you had a soft spot for kids, even missed being one sometimes.

“I know, but doesn’t that seem sort of strange to you?” Your mind was spinning with all sorts of possibilities, of what could and couldn’t be going on. Unless, well... “It could be like some sort of supernatural litter, or they’re breeding test subjects. Is there even any record of them having that many children?”

Your conclusions made your friend frown, and he pointed his finger up, unintentionally pointing to the tendril of flesh that was hanging from the fan above.

“We should check the records.” And with that he grabbed your bag from just outside of the room, pulling your laptop from out of it. Just then, your phone began ringing. It was Sam, and so you answered.

“Hey, you find anything?” There was silence on the other end, until you heard the shrill sound of what you supposed to be a child.

“Was that Jack or -” 

“Hey!” The nephilim retorted. You could already picture the child like frown on his face, but before either of you could bicker about your comparison, the Winchester on call spoke first.

“She left one of her kids, and we found hex bags.” He breathed, relieved that this did in fact involve what you all were guessing to be a witch, yet also frustrated about how messy this all was. “But the thing is, this son of hers was closed in the basement, and the only thing down there for him to eat down there was a man’s leg...”

“We should get that tested, it could be the father.” You said, trying to think about this case adjoined with all of its new revelations. “So, what is her goal here, she’s trying to turn her own children into cannibals?”

“That’s how the ‘myth’ of the wendigo started in human folklore.” Jack commented, before he frowned. Him and Sam both let out shouts, making you fear for the pair. 

“Sam?”

“She doesn’t have any children, nor did he.” Cas spoke, the content on the screen disarranging this entire predicament further. “What just happened Sam?”

His breathing could still be heard from the other end of the line. It seemed like he was in shock of some sort.

“You’ve got that right, Cas.” He breathed, referring to the fact that she had no spawn. “And I suspect the others are like him. He’s just turned into a grown man, we’re going to attempt to get an answer to who he is. Be careful if you encounter Mrs Fletcher, both of you.”

So, now you had a presumed answer on how Mr Fletcher had died, you had to tell Dean. Quickly, you and Cas left the scene, looking for the elder Winchester, remembering to take any of your items with you.

“Thankyou.” You nodded, doing all of the talking to any police whilst Cas held your phone at an arm’s length. “Got any clues on where our witch works?” You asked him.

Sam replied soon, making the matter of reaching Dean that more prominant. “West Street, not far from where you are. At the burger joint, Paula’s.”

“Shit!”

-

When you and Castiel arrived, Dean Winchester was nowhere to be found. That fact had you deeply concerned, more so than you would usually be on a hunt. This presumed witch was targeting adults, and not only did he and the majority of you fit the agenda, but you didn’t want to know what would happen if you ended up disturbing her crosshairs.

There was no one inside, excluding yourself and the angel. It was eerie, almost too quiet to be owned by a witch. Scratch that, definitely too quiet.

“Behind the counter.” You nodded towards the door, taking the lead first, lightly pushing it. The bell atop of it jingled, making you blink hazily, before all turned to a deep gaze of pixels.

Castiel walked closer to you, tapping your forehead, but to no avail was your state resolved. Instead, you felt the need to collapse and keep your eyes contained behind their lids. And so you gave into that feeling, only hearing the voices of Sam and Jack before it was over.

-

When you awoke, you were in your bed in the bunker, but it felt much larger than it ever had before. There was so much room to move upon the mattress, the duvet even felt bigger.

As you looked down at your hands, you realised they had shrunk significantly. For all you were aware, this could all have been a very lucid dream, but you doubted that. As a hunter, the strange things were never false, they were real.

Attempting to leave your bed, you dropped your legs over the side, although they were now incapable of touching the floor. Instead of landing upright, you fell, causing a thud against the floor.

The sound had obviously rendered, and it removed all thoughts that were rattling around in your mind. Memories flashed before your eyes, sending a haze of dizziness to your shrunken body, until they all left, making you aloof in your own adult room.

Dean rushed out of his own reside as he heard the thud. He had followed the witch around the back and shanked her, but there had been a second plan up her long black sleeves. And he should have known, as he walked into your room, only to find a little girl with a strong resemblance to you.

This was her charade when alive, and the issue still stuck even now even when she was dead. Dean rubbed his face, feeling the muscles that were tensing beneath the skin. And now they were left with the outcome that they and you had tried to resolve.

Looking down at your youthful silhouette reminded Dean as to exactly why he hated witches so much. They were deceitful and cruel, and unfortunately so much more. “Sam!” He called out in a hurry, cradling your small, whining body in his arms.

You tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but your once fellow hunter would not allow you to do so. There was no logic turning in the cogs of your mind, instead, you were much rather shy to someone that you were viewing as a stranger.

In a flash, Sam was at the threshold of your door, looking in as it was ajar. He saw Dean with a kid, and there was only one explanation for it. They had been hustled whilst the witch turned in her grave...

-

Cas examined a book in the war room, whilst Jack followed his actions. Sam was on the phone with Rowena, asking, some would see it as begging, the witch to come and fix you up. And thus, Dean was left with you, whilst he nursed a beer in his opposite hand.

You tried to reach the glass bottle, but Dean jerked it away from your grasp. “No.” He warned you, having continuously done so before when you were too lazy to fetch your own from the fridge. But that didn’t stop you, instead it humoured you, making you laugh at the perceived game.

“Stop it.” He spoke again, making Jack laugh at your stubbornness which clearly hadn’t changed. For once, it was nice for him not to be the youngest in the room, even though technically he still wasn’t. But all got distracted when Sam huffed a sigh of relief over the phone.

“Okay, great. Me and Dean will meet you there.” And then he hung up.

-

Rather than being in Dean’s arms once again, you had been traded to Sam’s as the eldest drove Baby to the destination that Rowena had proposed. “Thirsty.” You mumbled, a gurgle following your very short sentence.

Sam looked at Dean, who only shrugged. He was unsure of what to do, they couldn’t stop at a gas station, otherwise they would miss their meeting with Rowena, and as they knew far too well, she was a tricky one to get a hold of.

“No you’re not.” Dean told you, trying to convince your mind otherwise to its actual thoughts. For the moment of which you were silent, he thought it may have worked, however the peace was not eternal, for you spoke again.

“Hungry.” You managed to speak next, making Dean huff from exhaustion. He thought of your need for a drink, and then it clicked, he tipped his head back at Sam.

“There’s a beer in the back.” It possibly could have rolled under his seat, these roads to the witch were bumpy. Sam gasped at the statement, placing his hand on your back as he bounced you and kept you distracted from your desires.

“Please tell me that you’re not serious.” At this point, Sam would not be surprised with his brother. Quite clearly, as much as the man adored kids, he was getting quite fed up with you in this state. It was day in, day out and yet the effects still hadn’t worn themselves out.

“She’s technically of legal drinking age.” He shrugged, remembering all of the times that you would steal his beer from the fridge, or even sometimes his hands.

“Technically,” the younger of the two pried, glaring at his brother, “currently she isn’t,”

“We’re here anyway.” Dean cut the conversation short, putting the car in park. For the first time in his life, the hunter and legacy was eager to see Rowena. Never did he think that day would ever come, but somehow your obliviousness had landed you all here, and he hated it.

Sam got out of the car, carrying you to a bench that Dean had decided to park his own rear on. There was a nice breeze whipping his hair before his face, and this younger you mirrored the reaction the elder one would have had.

You laughed, watching the swarm of locks cover his face, and move to the other side, with the swiftest and slightest motions as the direction switched itself up. 

Footsteps, clearly heels, could be heard clicking their way over. It was isolated in this park, presumably the redhead’s doing as she came into view with an amused grin stretching her chin.

“Well, if I was not already quite acquainted with the pair of you, I would presume the two of you were fathers to dear little (Y/N).” Rowena bent forward, ignoring the glares she received from the men, ogling at your youthful expressions. “Are you sure that you don’t want to keep her like this? She is quite adorable when she hasn’t got the brains to work with my son when the two of you dimwits think it fits into your narrative. Or hold a gun to the back of my neck and blackmail me with my own security.”

“Definitely.” Was Dean’s instant response. He could not do another day with baby you, he’d start going grey, or his eyes would turn black all of a sudden from pent up rage.

“Yes, Rowena.” Sam answered, bowing his head, as your fingers decided to thread themselves through his hair.

“Shame.” She pouted briefly, before waving her hand, and then you were, dazed, but sat in Sam’s lap, full size. As soon as you came to, your eyes widened at the position you were in, and you were quick to launch yourself out of it. He however sat there stunned. “Told you we should have called her earlier.” Sam said, still feeling awkward from your exchange, and Dean only grunted in a reply.

Dean knew for sure though, you had been a pain in the ass. If it ever happened again, he would just leave you with Jack and Cas.

[adrianasunderworld]

🧡Dragon!RaihanxReader🧡

Drakes Keep

The townspeople live in fear of the dragon in the forest and have decided to make you the sacrifice to save them all. But perhaps the dragon isnt something to fear after all.

      This was how it ends. You thought to yourself as night descended. The only sound was the occasional breeze rustling the branches or the distant howl of a dog. You tried once again in vain to wriggle from the rope that kept you tied to the tree. Letting the back of your head hit the trunk with a thump, you bit your lip and finally allowed yourself to cry. This really was the end. 

       A dragons supper, that was your fate. The creature that called the abandoned castle home had returned, and the fear of what it could do had sent the townspeople into hysterics. Turning to the old ways once more to keep it appeased. Unfortunately for you, that had meant you were the one tossed to the beast. The old stories spoke of fair maidens and kings sons bravely sacrificing themselves for the better of others. But of course no one wanted to send their beloved children to death. But you? Orphaned and thieving,___? No one opposed that. And now you stood, hands bound to a tree as close to the Drakes Keep as they dared to bring you, waiting for death. 

     Night had finally fallen. The sound of crickets and the skittish steps of a rabbit your only company. Then as suddenly as it started, the forest was quiet and still as a grave. Even the breeze that blew the branches seemed to stop. Then the snap was heard. Then another. The crunch of leaves as if something heavy was being dragged across the ground. Then you saw it, a pair of teal blue eyes peeking out from between the trees. Tears continued to stream down your face as you locked gazes with the creature that would end. 

     "Just make it quick," you managed to choke out, throat raw from your sobbing. Not even sure if the beast could even understand you. "Please, be fast, that's all I ask."

     The dragon finally moved. It slowly stepped out of the darkness and you could see it in it's full view. It's dark midnight scales almost blended into the night, in stark contrast to the golden scales that went up its stomach and throat. It tilted its triangular head curiously as it examined its food. Your eyes snapped shut as it got closer and closer, until you felt the hot breath of your face. The wet sound of its jaws opening was heard, and you could not help but scream.

      Then the ropes went slack.

      "Relax." said a deep voice. "I wont do anything." 

     Opening your eyes, the dragon looked down at you, spitting out a piece of rope. "I...I… I dont understand." You shuddered out, wiping you tear stained face. "You arent going to eat me?"

     The dragon rolled its eyes. "Honestly, what's with these villagers and thinking I want to eat people? Of course not." 

     You removed the last bits of rope around your wrist, glancing at the dragon all the while. It wasn't going to kill you. What did it want? "So…" you began cautiously. "What now? 

       "What do you mean what now?"

       "If I'm not a meal, then what was the point of sacrifices? What is it that you want from the village."

       "Nothing." The dragon replied as if it should have been plain as day. "I never wanted any sacrifices ever. I untie them and let them go. I don't want anything from your village." 

       "But… but…" you stammered. "The missing livestock. And all those old stories about a dragon that burned the town centuries ago!"

      "My grandpa," the dragon replied. "Dont remember much about him, other than he was an old grouch. But that was a couple decades before I was even bored. as for livestock, sorry to say I was hungry. Large game have been scarce. Not my first choice, but you gotta do what you gotta do. Now," the dragon leaned down and sniffed at you, its warm breath blowing at your hair. "Who are you?"

       "-_" you stammered. 

      "And why, ___… did they decide to pick you to feed it the beast?"

      You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "No one wanted me." You answered honestly. "They were glad to have me gone."

        The dragon sniffed once more, like a hunting hound committing a scent to memory. There was the sound of thunder out in the distance. "Well, you're free of them now." Was his only reply. "Theres another town just south of here." He pointed a claw to his left. "I can only guess you wouldn't want to go back from where you came."

     You looked back between the direction the men who had tied up went,then the dragon, then to the direction he pointed. "So...so you'll let me go? Just like that?" 

     "Just like that." He assured.

It seemed too easy. The dragon letting you go and free to start a new life far far away.  The sound of thunder drew a little closer, and with it the wind returned to rustle the trees. You shivered. They had taken your cloak when you were arrested, and obviously did not bother to give it back when you had been left to die.

     The dragon seemed to take note of this, and tilted his head curiously. "What's the matter?"

      "Cold." You admitted. "Since I can leave, do you happen to know where I could sleep for the night?"

      The dragon eyed you once more and sniffed again as if looking for something of offense. When it seemed he did not find it, the dragon turned and nodded his head towards the direction he had come. "Follow me."

      "You know my name," you said as you followed the creature further into the forest. "What's yours?"

     "Raihan." He replied. "The Great Raihan."

    "Who calls you that?" You asked,trying hard not to snort.

    "Plenty of people." He said, twigs and leaves crunching under heavy feet. "I'll have you know, I have met many a knight and king that called me a great dragon."

     "What kings? Anyone I might have heard of?"

    "All sorts," he assured. "King Lance of Kanto. Queen Cynthia of Sinnoh. And most recently, your king Leon here in Galar."

     "So tell me then, great dragon Raihan, why are you out here in the back water forests outside of my nowhere village?"

    "Just as birds migrate, so do dragons." He explained. "We go from place to place, seeking spots of comfort to rest. Making a new home for ourselves or going to old ones."

    "I take it this is an old home then?"

   "Very old." He finally stopped and gestured to an ancient stone structure. With its half crumbled towers and vine covered parapets. "Very old indeed."

   "I've only ever heard of this place." You said in awe as you walked up the stone steps of the ancient castle. "My grandmother used to tell me about the dragons lair. She and all the other elders called it The Drakes Keep."

     "That's what you humans call it, yes." Raihan replied, pushing his large scaly body against the giant oak doors to open them. "But the true name of this place is Hammerlocke. Hammerlocke Castle."

     Walking into the grand entrance, Hammerlocke caslte was oddly well kept for not having a human inhabitant for centuries. Aside from the few cracks in the stone from age, the floor was clean of dirt and debris. There was even decorative tapestries that still adorned the walls. 

     Raihan pushed against the doors once more to shut them firmly, keeping the cold out. Then you realized something.

     "Um… not to sound rude or anything. But this doesn't look like a living space, and the doorways look far too small for you." 

     "Good observation. Sadly, castle life isn't very accommodating to this form."

     "Form?"

     Instead of elaborating, Raihan showed you what he had meant. In a flash of light you saw the large creature shrink down and take the form of a very tall and very handsome young man. He stretched out and let out a sigh. "Yes form." He grinned at your shocked expression. "There are many things about dragons you don't know."  

      It turned out dragons were very hospitable. Raihan had kept the fire in the sitting room going with ease, making warmer than you had ever known. He had a sorts of finery stashed away, including good coats and blankets of the softest materials. He had explained it was in a dragons to hoard things of great interest or value. Despite that he may not have a need fancy furs to keep him warm or nice bottles of wine, they were still soft to lay on and tasty to drink, and so he kept them. 

      "I'm still surprised dragons can take human form." You commented, swaddled up nicely in the furs Raihan had loaned you, stomach full of the food he had gathered the other day.

      "Oh yes, we are creatures of magic. Dragons,unicorns, the various breeds of fae." He took a sip from the golden goblet he poured the wine into. Unlike you he seemed to not be feeling the effects of it. "We were created by magic, neither human nor animal. So we are free to choose whichever form we please."

       "Do you appear human often?" 

       He shrugged. "I'd say it's fairly even. There is a time and a place for my true form, and I do enjoy visiting cities and what not, and that only really can be done like this." He gestured to his human form. 

       "I was always told dragons would sit in caves on piles of gold. Seeking princesses and young knights to drag away. Never that they like to be tourists."

       "Everyone is different." He said. "Truth be told, all those stories are rather old fashioned. Me? I like humans. Well...some of you." He flashed you a grin, seeming to imply you were one of the likeable ones. "I suppose I've always been a rather curious one. When I was a hatchling, I would sneak off to town and play with local children."

        "Now that does not surprise me," you said playfully while returning his grin. "You strike me as the sort who was a little scamp when they were young."

      "Oh trust me, you are not far off." He chuckled. "My parents could do nothing to keep me away. Everywhere we went, I sought out people, and when I was grown I went all over. I learned to read in many of your human tongues. Learned histories of every land I could. Befriended as many as I could."

      "That sounds amazing," you said wistfully. The life he described sounded like it could have only existed in a novel. You had never been able to venture out past the borders of the village. "I envy you, Raihan. I've never known such freedom." 

      "Well now you can." He replied. "All those townspeople think you won't return. You can start somewhere else."

      Looking down at your own golden cup, your reflection stared back in the red wine. Never go back...that certainly was not the problem. They would not miss you, and you would not miss them. But what kind of life could you have out there? "I doubt wherever I go will be much better."

      "And why is that?"

      "...Once a thieving urchin, always a thieving urchin." You said with all the resentment in you. That brand had followed you over half your life, and odds are it would follow you to the grave.

       "I take it that's why they tied you up to be sacrificed." Looking up, Raihans face portrayed no emotion. Part of you wondered if now he was disgusted knowing he let a thief in here, or maybe he pitied you. Honestly you weren't sure which would feel worse.

        You nodded. "When I was ten, my parents died. My grandmother long gone years before. My father's shop had caught fire, you see. And suddenly I was an orphan. No money, no home, no family. No one wanted to help. I had nothing, and so to the townspeople I was nothing.I did the only thing I could do: I stole to keep myself alive. I was arrested now and then, but I always got out. But the more I did it, the better I was at not getting caught. Well, until recently. And I think you know how that went." 

         "I wish I could say this is the first I've heard something like this, but it does seem like a sad reality to humans."  Raihans face then turned to concern as he reached out to put a hand in your shoulder. It wasn't until the tears were welling in your eyes a moment later did you realize it was because you were on the verge of crying. The events of today finally sinking in. Then he added. "But that doesn't mean you cant move on from it. Trust me, I've lived long enough to know what I'm talking about. Some of the best people I've known have lead similar beginnings to yours. I know it must feel awful now, but it'll get better. I promise."

      "You can't promise anything." You said, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "What am I going to do in this new town? All I know is how to steal. I'll just end up back where I was."

      "I mean, you could add some flare." He said jokingly. "I'd say you'd make a handsome jewel thief that steals hearts along the way." 

      You couldn't help but snort. "That is absolutely ridiculous." 

      "It's merely a suggestion." He grinned. "All I'm saying is why not have some fun with your self fulfilling prophecy?" 

      You paused for a moment. "...What was it like? When you first left to travel?"

     "A bit frightful." He admitted. "But exciting. Often times lonely."

     "Lonely?"

     Raihan nodded. "Yes, dragons, though we live long, are few and far between. Besides my family, it would be a few years before I saw another of my kind. Those stories you talked about of maidens in towers, I can assure you the reason was never malicious. Those drakes did it more for companionship than anything else."

      "You make it sound like you speak from experience."

      "Well…"

      "Raihan, you didn't!"

      "Oh I assure you ___," he smirked like an absolute cad and winked. "All princesses under my protection were there willingly.  And treated very well, if I do say so myself." Your face flushed at what he was implying, and Raihan bursted out laughing.

      After a moment you began to laugh as well. It had been so long since you could sit like this and be friendly with anyone. Raihan was so good natured, it felt like it would be a challenge not to like him. "Are you going to stay in this castle long?" You asked. Wondering if it would be forward to ask if you could visit him from time to time after parting ways.

      "For a few weeks," he said, taking a long drink from his goblet. "Then off to Wyndon."

      "Wyndon? As in the capital city Wyndon?"

       "The one and only. Off to visit a friend for the spring."

      Part of you felt a bit disappointed for him to be leaving so soon. "I hope you enjoy it, " you said,meaning it. "I admit, I'll miss your company."

     "Then dont miss me."

     "What?"

     "Come with me, I could use a travel companion."

     "What would I possibly do in Wyndon?" Even as you said it, your mind raced with the possibilities. You had only heard in passing of the great city where King Leon held court. Of its beautiful building and the wealth of opportunities to be found there.

      "What couldn't you do?" He replied. "The better question is what do you have to lose? Be my travel buddy, ___. See lands beyond this forest. Hear languages you've never heard. Rub elbows with royalty. If you don't like it I can drop you off in that village south of here, how does that sound? Unless of course you're considering being a heartbreaking jewel thief. In which case I wholeheartedly endorse your decision."

        You thought it over and over. Be a dragons companion. Go to the capital and regions beyond. Or go to some other backwater town and possibly live in the mud once more. It wasn't a very hard decision. "I'll take you up on that offer."

       Raihan smiled, a small fang poking at his bottom lip. He tapped his golden cup against yours. "Cheers. We ride in two weeks time."

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ I'M GONNA PROTECT YOU ❜

with Angel Reyes, and reader as Che ‘Taza’ Romero' daughter.

Request: Oooh Could it be where you are a younger sibling to one of the guys or a daughter to either the older three? And you and Angel are somewhat good friends? Well one day you are alone at your house and you hear a noise outside and it freaks you out so you grab your gun and call your brother/dad and they are busy at the moment but they send Angel to check it out and he comes and turns out it's someone trying to break in. Anyway the guy runs away and it ends in some Smut? Then your relative comes!

BY @firebenderwolf

Warnings: brief violence described, I think.

Word count: about 1.8k

Aurora says: I wrote it listening a cover of ‘La Llorona’, by Natalia Doco, so I recommend you to listen this song while you read it. This writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: @angels-reyes

Masterlist.

You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

The barks coming from the open field, next to the barns, suddenly wakes you up. Your dogs never barks in the middle of the night. You don't give them much importance, lying back on bed again, until they start to howl. Getting up and sticking your head closer to the window, you find some big figures cutting part of the wire fence with a pair of shears. Grabbing your phone, you call your father while leading your feet to his room, to grab the gun under his pillow. A nine millimeters semi automatic, enough to chase them away. Taking off the safety and raising your arms to the high of your eyes, you hang up the call. Probably, Taza will be at Vicki's house getting drunk with Bishop and Tranq, so you type Angel's number by heart. Going downstairs, your eyes looking straight forward, trying to make the least noise possible while you hear the howls and barks getting louder.

“Angel, there's two guys trying to come into my house, and my dad doesn't answer”.

“I'm going, mami. Hide and don' fuckin' move”.

The adrenaline was running through your body, and until you listened to his voice, you didn't notice that you were actually terrified. Gulping, you just hope that they don't hurt your animals. Keeping your phone muttered in a pocket, you hold the gun with both hands. The logic act would be calling the cops, but that is not an option for someone like you, nor your father. Crossing the huge and open living room, you decide to hide yourself into a wardrobe behind a folding screen that your great-grandfather made with his own hands.

Your heart races jumping inside your chest when you are able to hear their voices. Mexicans with a terrible american accent. Sticking your left ear to the door, you try to glimpse if you know them. And it is possible. Biting your bottom lip really nervous, you begin to text your father telling him what's happening, until your body shakes violently when a lot of small glasses fall to the floor after a heavy racket. The thieves are now entering into your house. And actually, they're not going to find anything. Your father is too intelligent to keep his money and valuables belongings inside there. But you're actually terrified because, yes, you know how to fire a gun; but you have never done it to defend yourself. And the only thing you can do right now is to wait. Your father is also coming with the older part of the crew after reading your text messages.

The barks outside don't cease, but your dogs are locked taking care of the animals, and you prefer it. You don't want them to get hurt. And the different noises of more glasses crashing, and different pieces of furniture falling to the floor are turning you anxious. The tears filling up your eyes and your shaky breathing don't help to stay calmed. Resting your back against the wall, with the gun raised to the door, you think that you are ready to fire it as soon as someone opens it.

Gulping a bunch of saliva, when you stop to hear them whispering curses in spanish after some minutes, the heavy steps upstairs call your attention; as the continues buzz of an engine getting closer to the ranch, speeding up in the moment it crosses the main fence. In complete silence, you step out from the wardrobe, with your trembling fingers securing the weapon between them. Checking that there's no one around you, your feet run to the main door to open it. Angel is already there. Without taking off the helmet, the man passes you away with his own gun lifted up in front of his dark eyes. Following him to the stairs, each other take up a side of the wall, waiting for them to go downstairs. The first one appears asking the other to leave, after not finding anything, but before he can warn his sidekick, Angel is already pointing at him, making him a sign to stay silent.

“Mario, where are you?” You hear from the top.

Taking off the gun from the thief's hands, you leave it over the table. But making a false move, the mexican manages to punch Angel, starting to wrestle with him.

“RUN, ANTONIO! MAYA—MAYANS ARE HERE!”

Your mind goes blank by the shock of seeing him fighting, and the weapon sliding itself over the floor, in the meantime the other man runs away jumping through a window and using the bindweeds around the house as stairs. Watching how the other tries to beat the oldest Reyes, you point at them with trembling hands.

“Leave him, pend—”.

Because of the nerves running through your veins, your forefinger presses the trigger shooting the thief by his back. A painful grunt floods the living room. Angel pushes him away, while the mexican writhes between tears and growls. Grabbing the gun from your hands, to not fire anyone else, your friend places an arm over your shoulders to turn you, giving your back to the thief. At the moment he tries to fight again, almost standing up, Angel shoots him again. Twice. Straight to the chest. Clinged to his body, you can't help but break into cries, hiding your face in his neck.

“Look at me… Look at me. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He mumbles, leaving away the weapon, so he can cup your cheek in his hands.

You just nod swallowing, feeling his lips pressed on your forehead, before stretching an arm to the wall to turn on the lights.

“Com'ere, baby”. He says, urging you to slightly jump into him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your tears wet the franel shirt he's wearing inconsolably, leading his steps to the kitchen, away from the dead body staining the floor with the blood gushing out of it. Helping you to sit over the island in the middle of the place, Angel hurries up to bring you a glass of water, not knowing how to calm you down more than with leaving some caresses in your hair. You try to swallow but your throat is hermetically closed, coughing some times, while the salty tears keep flowing onto your lips.

“Did I… Did I ki—killed him?”

“No, no, no”. He says, putting the ringed fingers by both sides of your face, affected deeply by the look of horror in your orbs. “I did it, okay? You hear me? I did it”.

You know him from seven years ago, having a special connection from the beginning. You have been through a lot of shit together, but you never expected something like that happening. Putting the glass away from your trembling fingers, Angel holds you against his body, tightly hugging you, trying to make you feel somewhat better while the crew come to the ranch.

“Please… Stop crying… It's okay”. He mutters with a broken voice, not used to feel you so terrified. “I'm here, baby… I'm gonna protect you”.

“I'm sor—sorry, Angel”.

“Don' be silly. You don' have to be sorry 'bout nothing”. He chuckles softly, leaving a kiss on your right cheek. “Am your superhero, remember?”

The Reyes finally breathes when he hears you laughing with a low, low tone.

“I would never let anyone hurt you”. Sticking his forehead on yours, he closes his eyes for a second, feeling how your fingers get intertwined in his shirt.

You just nod, trying to catch back your breath, almost drinking his. The strokes by his thumbs over your skin helps to maintain a calmed pulse, beating your heart with a low pace; only focused on his touches. Your mind plays a dirt trick on you, making you lean forward some inches until his lips are being pressed by yours. But Angel isn't surprised, and doesn't have any intention to pull himself away, strengthening his fingers on your neck. Your mouths look like two pieces from a puzzle, destined to fit perfectly. Settling himself between your legs to be closer, your hands travel to the back of his head, as your lips start to move softly, tasting every single inch of his. Sliding his tongue inside your mouth to find yours, you can't help but feel a mix of feelings about it. Now you are confused about the fact that you don't know if you're doing it because of the horror lived, or because you really wanted to do it since long ago.

Running out of air, Angel continues kissing your cheek up to your temple with short and gentle gestures, clinging his arms around your body. You have never felt so serene, even if there's a dead body in the middle of your living room and the buzz of some engines are getting louder. He is warm, and seems like he smells better than never, resting your face on his chest with closed eyes. Angel's heart beat is like a hypnotic melody that could make you fall asleep just like that, as if you two were completely alone and you haven't been about to kill a man, for the first time, some minutes ago.

“BAB—HOLY SHIT! BABY! BABY, WHERE ARE YOU?”

As soon as Angel pulls away himself from you, your legs jump down to the floor, running to the place where your father's voice comes from. Your body collides with his surrounding him, breaking in crying again when you feel him finally holding you. Bishop, Tranq and Riz are also there, examining the man lying on the floor with no breath of life in him.

“¿Estás bien? ¿Estás herida, mi amor?” (Are you okay? Are you hurt?) Taza is desperate, looking at you with reddened eyes as you nod in silence. “What happened?”

“There were two men. This… son of a bitch's name is Mario. The other ran away by a window. Antonio, I think he said”. Angel explains under the gaze from his brothers. “Man… they knew where they were getting into”.

“Why?” Bishop asks.

“They knew we are Mayans”. Angel shakes his head slightly, rubbing his forehead with two fingers. “And they were mexicans”.

“I think I know him”. Tranq is squatted close to the dead body, narrowing his eyes as he studies his face. “Vatos or Coyotes, I am not sure, Bishop”.

“Figure it out and put in on the table”. Taza demands with the rage consuming him, hugging you tightly under his arms.

“Let's go”. Bishop moves his head to the main door, making the others know that they must go. “Angel, calls the guys. Take care of the trash”.

“Come here, mi vida”. Your father whispers carrying you into his arms upstairs, not wanting you to continue there. “We're going to take some clothes and leave to the club, okay?”

✨ Tag list:

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[hajimesh]

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

𝚘𝚒𝚔𝚊𝚠𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚞 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 // 𝟷.𝟸𝚔 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; 𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘺 𝘶 𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵

𝐚/𝐧; 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘺𝘬𝘢𝘸𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬

-ˏˋ𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 ♡

Hunched over your desk, you blindly reached out for a highlighter with one hand as you wrote down on your notes with the other. 

A new semester meant that stress was back in your life. It was your second year at uni and you had recently moved to an apartment after a year of saving most of your paycheck.

It was small but it did the job. 

A couch on the corner, your futon, and a desk while the kitchen was basically empty, only having the basics. You tried to fill in the emptiness with indoor plants and a nice set of curtains. 

Adult life was tough.

Thankfully, the only thing that kept you going was knowing that Oikawa would come to visit you after not seeing him for a few weeks.

You two met through common friends, a few classmates of yours were old teammates of his and during a party, you spiked Oikawa’s interest when he watched you win a round at beer pong. The rest was history.

It had been around a year and a half since then when you told him about your plans to become independent. He supported you, even helping you to find an affordable place so you could move out of your parents’ house. 

Oikawa was busy with his own thing, volleyball taking most of his time along with the trips with the team, but he made sure to make enough time for you.

You heard your phone vibrate and saw a text from him. 

I’m here, it read.

Smiling, you got up from your seat and walked to the door just as a couple of knocks were heard on it. Opening it, you were greeted with your smiling boyfriend, the hands that rested on his hips flying around you to envelop you in a hug.

“Y/N-chan! I missed you a lot,” you could imagine the pout on his lips as you heard his whiny tone. 

Sighing, you wrapped your arms around his torso and got a whiff of his scent, making you close your eyes unconsciously at the familiar feeling. “I missed you too.”

You remained like that for a couple of seconds before you felt him kiss the top of your head. 

“I got you something,” he unlatched himself from you and bent down to pick up a box that lay next to your door. He held it in front of him and offered it to you with a radiant smile. “A little present for your new home.”

You scrunched up your eyebrows and gave him a confused smile. Taking the box from him, you noticed its heaviness and motioned him to get inside.

After taking a seat on the couch, you started to open the box carefully. If you were being honest, you weren’t really expecting a specific gift, but you weren’t expecting to see a nutribullet either. 

“It’s not much, but now you can have something else than bottled beverages,” Oikawa said in a sheepish tone.

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect!” you were pleasantly surprised by his choice of gift. “Thank you, Tooru,” you kissed him on his cheek and continued examining the blender. “I can make milkshakes with this, and frappés, chocolate milk–”

“Why don’t we try it?” he interrupted you.

“Good thing I went grocery shopping yesterday.”

Both of you went to the kitchen, he looked around the cabinets and fridge to see what you could work with and then came across something that piqued his interest.

He held the chocolate milk container with one hand and pointed at it with the other, looking at you in amusement. “How were you planning on drinking this?”

You turned away from the blender to see what he meant and immediately felt silly under his mocking gaze.

“Eh, pouring it in a cup and blending it with a fork?”

Oikawa laughed which made you pout. “Silly girl,” he bent forward to kiss your nose and snatched the blender away from you. 

He started to add the powder, milk, and a few ice cubes while you peered from the side.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” you asked, referring to the ice.

“Yup.” 

Once he closed the lid, he was ready to plug in the nutribullet when you stopped him.

“My turn!”

He gave you a funny look but stepped aside, letting you take his place.

After plugging it in, you recalled what you read from the instructive and pushed down the blender while twisting it to your left. Nothing happened which made you frown, so you tried again and this time it did work.

And you almost died from a heart attack.

The ice hitting the metal made a horribly loud sound that scared you to death, making you jump in surprise and squeal at the same time. 

Oikawa couldn’t help but snort at your reaction, only to give in to the laugh that had been threatening to escape his body when you snapped your head at him and glared.

Annoyed, you lightly shoved him to the side and folded your arms in front of your chest. “Stop!”

His body continued to shake while he lifted his hands in a surrendering way, but a new round of laughter rolled out of him when he remembered the surprised expression on your face. 

“Y-your face! It was so funny!”

Oikawa was breathless, holding his stomach while tears fell from his eyes.

“Do it,” you pushed him towards the blender. “You do it.”

When he finally composed himself, he playfully rolled his eyes but complied. “Alright.”

You observed him closely, frowning when he didn’t jump nor scream at the sound of the blender. Five seconds later he let go of it and opened the blender to see the result.

Chocolate milk had never looked so tasty.

You opened a cabinet and took a metallic straw from it, offering it to him. 

Oikawa raised an eyebrow at you quizzically.

“I don’t have any cups yet.”

“How have you been surviving!?” his question was rhetorical, half-amused, and half-concerned. But on the inside, he was horrified.

The fact that his girlfriend lived in such conditions didn’t settle all too well with him. He had hoped you’d come to him asking for help since he had previously stated how happy he’d be to aid you in this new chapter of your life. But for now, all he could do was make sure you were alright, knowing that you might get offended if he interfered way too much. 

You went back to the couch, Oikawa’s arm instinctively wrapping around your shoulders while you placed your legs on top of his.

“Are you comfortable?” his voice was almost a whisper, his hand caressing the side of your face as he found himself captivated by your mere presence.

Smiling, you answered his question by cuddling closer, resting your head on his shoulder after giving him a quick kiss on his jaw.

You spent the rest of the evening sharing the cold drink and catching up with each other’s lives, a few kisses here and there as you snuggled closer until you fell asleep.

Adult life was tough, but it was bearable when you had Oikawa Tooru helping you get through it and making it enjoyable.

[wyofabdoms]

Undercover I Do - Chapter 3

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Mature (Eventual smut)

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, fake/pretend relationship, married and undercover trope, temporary amnesia, hospitalization, blood and injury, soft Javi, brief mention of domestic Javi, mentions of some smexy stuff, unrequited feels, lots of medical things that are probably wrong but I did a five minute internet search so we’re gonna call it good, okay?

Word Count: 1982

Notes: You're awake....but what do you remember?

Read on Ao3

Every inch of your body felt like it had been smashed with a heavy hammer.  The soreness seemed to echo and reverberate up and down, through your wrists, through your calves, along your hips, up your back.  Everything was black and you sluggishly realized it was because your eyes were closed.  Based on the way your body was feeling, though, you didn’t have much desire to open your eyes.

You did anyway, feeling like Sisyphus hauling his boulder up a hill at the effort it took to simply lift your eyelids.  Blurry daylight streamed through the vinyl shades of a window.  A news program was playing on a muted television in the corner.  The parts of the room you could see were stark and sparse: clearly a hospital room.  You tried turning your head to survey the rest of the room and groaned, a shrieking thumping in your head threatening to send you right back into the blackness of unconsciousness you had just come from.  You heard rustling coming from somewhere on your other side, out of your vision; then a wizened older woman with chin length grey hair stepped into your line of sight.  She looked at you earnestly and brushed a smooth, dry palm softly across the top of your head, pushing your hair back and murmuring your name.  

You struggled to place this woman’s face….your mother?  No, that wasn’t right.  You got a maternal feeling from her, certainly, but this woman wasn’t your mother...so who was she?  Your brain grasped to remember.  

“It’s all right,” the woman spoke and her voice was gentle but commanding, calm, steady with a flint of authority.  “You’re safe.  You’ve been unconscious for a while and had a nasty head injury.  Take it slow...don’t push yourself too hard.”  As she spoke, she pressed a recessed button next to you on the hospital bed, calling for a nurse and half asking, half ordering said nurse to get the doctor down here to check on you immediately.  This woman was clearly used to having people do what she said.  She sat next to you, a comforting hand resting on your forearm.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been run over.”  Your voice croaked and something clicked in your mind.  You flicked your eyes back to the woman.  “I’m in Columbia, right?”  The woman nodded slowly, her eyes searching your face.  “Bogota?”  Another confirmation.  You carefully turned your head and stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to remember, feeling your mind spinning like tires in mud trying to get traction as you tried to remember what had landed you in this hospital bed.  A memory of this woman’s face rose in front of you, sitting behind a large desk in an office, poring over maps and files and directing yourself and others.  “Agent Dixon.”  You said, flashing your eyes back to her.  Her face appeared years younger as a smile spread on her lips and you made your own attempt at a small smile as memories of your mentor seeped into your mind, like water finding cracks in a sidewalk.

The doctor arrived then and proceeded to examine you, asking you questions about what you did and didn’t remember: names, dates, presidents.  Already confirming that you were in Columbia, you also remembered you work as a DEA agent, having been stationed here for close to two years now.  You did most of the talking while the doctor and Dixon merely asked you questions, elaborating on how you had ended up in the hospital: the DEA had been tracking a drug lord with lofty and insidious aspirations named Rafel Ortiz, an operation to capture him and his network that hadn’t gone as planned, you had been injured during the operation, though after a meaningful shared look across your hospital bed, neither Dixon nor the doctor gave any details as to said operation, nor how you had sustained your injuries.  As the doctor finished up, you lifted your hand to brush a stray piece of hair that was tickling your face beneath the bandage on your head.  Your eyes caught a glint of something on your finger.  You stopped, remembering through a fog: photographs with you in them, a warm grip on your hand, a gentle kiss on your forehead, a panic-stricken voice filled with concern calling for you to wake up, then the same husky, low voice whispering to you to sleep well, calling you “princess”.  Your eyes turned with concern from the ring on your finger to the doctor and Dixon.

“Where is he? Is he ok?”  Another shared glance between the two across your bed.  Your heart sank.  Dixon spoke quietly after a moment.

“Where is who?”

“I don’t remember his name.  The man in the pictures...he was with me in the ambulance.  Where’s my husband?”

****

Javier had managed to sleep, though certainly not well.  He knew he looked like shit as he stalked through the halls of the hospital.  He’d managed to make himself look slightly less of a mess than yesterday after a shower and change of clothes this morning, but he didn’t feel much better.  Beneath his pounding head and screaming muscles, a bubbling of worry simmered and all he wanted was to get back to the hospital and wait for his partner to open her eyes, to give him a wry smile and shoot him some teasing barb about how much worse for wear he looked than she did.  

They’d almost pulled it off, the two of them. He had felt a little ridiculous during the pre-op: having his finger measured for a ring that fit properly, posing with his partner for “engagement photos” in the small garden courtyard of the DEA office building, then changing into formal wear and recreating what would hopefully look like a sweet moment from a wedding ceremony, but was really a job of play acting in front of a blank wall in a conference room.  They’d set up in the large house on the outskirts of the city, posing as a freshly arrived expat couple, newly married and looking to supplement his international banking career by padding it with up and coming connections in the cocaine trade.  They’d “been married” for a little over two weeks, operating normally as agents and partners when on their own, but putting on a convincing performance as a newlywed couple when entertaining or meeting with Ortiz or any of his men.

Javier couldn’t lie to himself.  He had always been attracted to his partner.  She was smart, feisty, independent, strong-willed, and beautiful...oh so beautiful.  When they had first started working together he had pursued her relentlessly for a grand total of three days before she had knocked him across the face and nearly twisted his hand off when he had gotten grabby.  In no uncertain terms, she had made it crystal clear that no, she was not interested in sleeping with him, she had no desire to be a notch on anyone’s bedpost (much less his), that he was being an absolute pig for assuming that she was and that if he ever tried to grab her ass or any part of her again without permission she would shoot him in the dick.

That had been well on two years ago and thinking back, it was probably in that very moment when she had growled at him and he had stared up at her from where she had landed him on the bar floor, that he had started to fall for his partner.  After that night, he had never made another attempt to pursue her...at least not physically.  There had been times, over one too many drinks at a bar or over shitty take out or during a late night glance through the smoky haze from the cigarettes they would chain smoke, that he had seen something in her eyes.  Something that had made him pause and wonder if things had perhaps changed...if maybe the needle had moved for her, if she thought differently now.  They had been through so much together, had grown so close. But he had never been quite brave enough to ask.  And she had so often made her opinion abundantly clear on considering him merely her partner; teasing him about being able to outrun him in a foot chase, scowling in distaste whenever his amorous methods with his informants came up, screaming at him at least twice a week for over some disagreement or another.  

He had liked being “married” to her, though.  For just a little while, he had gotten a taste of what domesticity might be like for Javier Peña: jaded DEA agent.  He had liked the excuse to hold her hand at dinner in a restaurant or place his hand on the small of her back while walking...all of the moments when he could give her little touches: a brush of her cheek with the back of his hand, a kiss to her temple.  

Then there had been the moments that stirred something deeper than his interest in domesticity.  When she had sat on his lap after dinner and nibbled on his ear while he talked business with Ortiz.  When they had attended a party the drug lord had hosted and Javi had found his hands exploring the smooth planes of her body, her fingers knotted in his hair, pressing the occasional kiss to the other’s lips as they danced recklessly until the early morning hours.  He had felt like it had been real, moments like those.  As though the pretense of their undercover personas gave permission for their unspoken craving for each other to float to the surface and be reality, even if just for a little while. Kisses for the benefit of their marks had seemed to linger just a few moments longer than necessary, her lips had discovered the spot on his neck below his ear that drove him crazy and seemed to just naturally end up there whenever they had to “act” married. 

Then there had been that last night before everything had fallen apart: the two of them pressed together for a moment in panic, trying to keep themselves hidden from the suspicious gaze of Ortiz’s men...then suddenly pressed together like lovers, hands under clothes, groping and grappling for purchase on each others’ skin wherever they could find it, the smell of the plumeria trees wafting over them. Javi knew it had only been to cover the fact that they had been snooping somewhere they shouldn’t have been, but he couldn’t shake the way that moment had made him feel: as though suddenly every barrier and wall that separated he and his partner had crashed and crumbled between them.  If they hadn’t been discovered as DEA later that evening Javi wondered what might have happened when they had returned to “their” house….

No. He couldn’t let himself dwell on those kinds of “what ifs” right now.  He shook himself as he rounded the corner and spotted Dixon and the doctor standing outside your hospital door, speaking intently. As he approached, Dixon glanced at him and both of them abruptly stopped talking.

“Peña, what are you doing here?  Shouldn’t you be at the office?  I’m sure you have a report to fill out...” Javi shot her an annoyed look.

“I just wanted to stop by on my way, see how she’s doing….” He trailed off, looking back and forth between Dixon and the doctor, waiting for one or both of them to give him an update.  When none came, he irritatedly asked, “Well?….How’s she doing?”  Worry tugged at him as he saw the look that passed between them.

“Agent Peña…” Dixon said slowly. She gestured to one of the crappy plastic chairs along the wall outside the rooms.  “Have a seat.  We need to talk.”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9, Chapter 10,  Chapter 11,  Chapter 12,  Chapter 13

[adleryoung]

"Sure, whatever," I shrugged. "You need to read the book from the beginning, and when you get to a part that says 'lorem ipsum' and so on, stop. That's when we will review and I'll quiz you on what you've learned."

Rebecca sat down next to one of the menhirs and started reading the Foxspell. Every few seconds she would burst out with peals of laughter. I remembered the book being lighthearted, but never thought it was that funny. Lowfolk certainly were strange.

I paused for a moment to reflect on the fact that over the course of this single afternoon I had apported numerous objects seemingly from nowhere, without knowing their exact location beforehand. This should have been impossible. The only elves on record accomplishing such feats were legendary characters from the Long Ago. What exactly were the implications of this newfound ability?

"Hey," Burnside murmured, interrupting my thoughts. "Think you could produce a bottle of good usquebaugh?"

"Not right now," I declared. "I need you to show me the part of this journal where it said 'lorem ipsum' and all that."

Burnside found the page and showed it to me. It was the beginning of a standard dissertation on celestial mechanics, but it ended abruptly in the middle of a sentence and was not continued on the next page.

I flipped through the journal and examined it more closely. Scattered amidst the fashion and hairstyle sketches were snippets of gardening advice (all of which Burnside could read), excerpts from a basic primer on Gramarye (she could read those too), and fragments from what must have been an astrological handbook (all 'lorem ipsum' to Burnside). Pages seventeen through twenty-three seemed to have been copied from a Mephitist marriage handbook; Burnside could read all of them with much chuckling and winking. Toward the end of the filled pages were many drawings of me in ridiculous costumes, with notes completely misconstruing my words and actions. The final dozen pages of the book were still blank.

"What do you make of this?" I asked Vernier. "How much of it did you actually read?"

"Oh my," Vernier exclaimed as she examined the notebook. "Is that what elves do on their honeymoon? That's quite an interesting technique. Do you actually know how to do that, Sir?"

"Yer durn tootin he does," Burnside declared proudly.

"Never mind the pictures," I snapped. "Can you read what's written here?"

"Is it written in Elvish?" Vernier asked.

"Does it say 'lorem ipsum dolor sit amet,' and so forth, the stuff Rebecca was yelling a few minutes ago?"

"No, but it does appear to be some sort of otherworldly gibberish."

"What about this?" I asked, flipping to the gardening tips.

She could not read those either, nor any of the other copied passages; however, only the astrological material appeared as 'lorem ipsum.' The rest of it was simply written in an unfamiliar language. All of Rebecca's own notes were, of course, entirely legible - albeit incomprehensible.

"Where did you copy this from?" I demanded, brandishing the notebook as I interrupted Rebecca's reading.

"Some old books that were hidden at the old O'Daisies manufactory," she stated matter-of-factly. "This Reynard was a real character. I'm starting to get a feel for the subtly nuanced evil that you keep calling 'Seelie.' It's quite charming in its way."

"Why would you copy old books from the O'Daisies?"

"Everybody knows their inventions came from hell and their financial success was due to daemoniacal magic," Rebecca explained. "So when they were driven away by an army of trees, naturally I had to sneak into the abandoned building and see what relics I could find."

"Can you read any of this?"

"No, but it's got to be magical. It's written in, like, Elvish, right? And there were pictures of people doing wicked sexy rituals. That's always a sure sign of evil. And that one book contained parts of the Overspell so naturally I had to write that down."

"What's this Overspell? How do you know about it?"

"You are testing me, My Lord," Rebecca grinned. "Fragments of the Overspell are passed around in witchy circles. We all know the first few lines, but nobody has ever seen the whole thing. The one who finds it and can tame its power would be able to destroy the world and remake it to her liking!"

"Do you still have the books you copied this material from?" I asked, feeling nervous at the thought of several volumes of elvish lore floating around loose in the lowfolk world.

"Oh no, My Lord. Much too dangerous to get caught with them in my possession, plus they would have been too bulky to carry. The one with the Overspell was badly waterlogged and I copied the only parts that were legible. The other ones didn't fare much better. They're probably all ruined by now, unless somebody else found them."

[tuancore]

Lost You (Part 16) Final :

Starring- Jinyoung x reader

Genre- Angst, fluff

Summary- It's your choices and actions which made you miserable.

It was taking you a whole lot of time to accept and embrace the reality, even when it was much better than the little imagination of your head. Sometimes you still wondered if it was really nothing but just a figment of your imagination, your mind playing tricks on your unconscious body and damaged brain.

It's strange how a human body functions. You visited the neurologists for the best treatments and therapy that you could receive. Examining your brain, the doctor concluded that your hippocampus which is responsible for the memory has certainly been damaged resulting in retrograde amnesia, since you don't remember anything apart from your so called traumatic imagination. Fortunately you were still able to recognise people who were your close ones.

Everyone has been very understanding and nice to you even when you've clearly dumped each and every memory you had shared with them, a river of guilt soaking you wet with each passing second whenever they tried to tell you a certain piece of your memory of how you used to be. A sad smile adorning your face, it had become like you never lived with others and Jinyoung for so many years. You lost majority of your memories with Jinyoung, you did know that you were madly in love with him but everything turned upside down for you.

Undoubtedly it was your brain who played your life in such episodes which didn't even take place, though it felt so damn real. According to the doctor, It rarely happens that some patient who is suffering from a concussion and is in coma is precisely living in their mind. You didn't really tell them about Jisoo, you just termed her as some girl you wouldn't want to ever meet in your life.

Although you've certainly accepted the loss of your memories but you still needed time to let Jinyoung in again, you didn't feel a lot comfortable around him, he sure treated you like some princess but you couldn't bring yourself to accept him, so you kept yourself far from him as much as possible. Whenever he tried talking to you, you've been cold to him, you were worried if he would grow upset and leave but no, he didn't. Instead he stuck to you.

"Jinyoung, I'm sorry" You muttered softly pulling your hands from his grasp, standing up on your feet your back facing him,"I—I know that you've been hurt and how happy you're to see me again, but..... Jinyoung" You fiddled with your fingers nervously,"I need some time,I'm not ready to love you again, it's not like I don't trust you, it's just...—".

"Shhh~" Jinyoung cut you in between standing from the couch,"I understand how you're feeling right now,you were just handed with the most shocking news of your life. I won't force you into doing anything which you are uncomfortable with, trust me...." He expressed softly, a warm smile spreading over his sharp features as he stood in front of you.

"Thank you" You smiled back,for him being so understanding, "And I'm so sorry for putting you through this—".

"Aigoo, you talk too much" He chuckled, "Neither do I require your thank you nor sorry. All I require for living is you. If you're happy then I'm happy bab—", he stopped biting his tongue, "I'm sorry for that".

"It's okay you c—can still c—call me that", You cleared your throat avoiding the eye contact, he grinned inwardly probably thinking how cute you were being right now.

"I hope we can start off as friends then, as housemates. I promise no funny business", he asked raising his pinky finger for you to entangle in his which you did with a hesitant smile.

Since then you and Jinyoung have been sleeping in two different rooms, you're quite surprised at the amount of patience he has. He probably does everything which an ideal husband should. Yes, a husband and not a boyfriend. It sometimes makes you wonder what kind of memories you actually shared with Jinyoung, how was it to be newly in love with him, what all things about him intrigued you, what was that about him which really made you fall for him.

You started spending your time with others, you did say that you no longer consider your traumatic experience, yet in some corner of your heart, you were terrified since it was the only thing that you remember, that's it. The hardest was to meet with Youngjae. However, he showed you the photo albums which had both of your past times captured, he also took you out to the places, where you both used to enjoy hanging out and playing around with eachother.

Jinyoung mostly spend his afternoons and evenings in his office working diligently but always managed to call you once in a while to ask you if you had eaten your lunch, had your medicines on time, if you were reading anything in particular. You were mostly bored at home, unless one of your friends took you out with them. Jinyoung made sure you had no household chores to be worried about, he used to clean and arrange the entire house before you could open your eyes in the morning, mostly he went office without you knowing, your breakfast already prepared, ready to be consumed.

BamBam and Mark often came over to play video games with you whenever you were alone, Yugyeom and Jackson taught you some of their dance moves which was better way to stay fit than gyming out according to them while you went out with Jinyoung and Jaebeom to book stores and coffee shops, and you genuinely appreciated each one of their efforts. They have always been your family but now the picture was getting more clear.

On his days off, Jinyoung used to take you out on small dates, exactly how you liked. No fancy restaurants with people wearing tuxedos and silk dresses instead you liked strolling around the streets at night, playing at amusement park, eating ice creams, spending that quiet moment at Han river, you didn't really recalled that you liked those until Jinyoung informed you.

You knew that behind that adorable smile and soft affectionate eyes was a hurting heart, he was sorely hurting himself more and more just to mend yours. At the beginning you were somewhat scared of Jinyoung, of course he felt foreign to you, but you weren't to him, Most of the times when you tried putting yourself in his shoes, it broke your heart every single time.

"Noona!" BamBam and Yugyeom nudged your arm from either side.

"Yeah yeah", You answered staring back at them. "You've been zoning out, are you okay?" Yugyeom asked.

"I'm fine, just thinking about something", You replied still staring into the void. "Something or someone?" BamBam smirked. Had it been some other time you would have smacked them, but it made you blush.

"Can I ask you guys something?", You said aloud gaining all six of their attentions, eyes watching you intently,"Go ahead", JB motioned.

"Do you guys think that I'm hurting Jinyoung?" You asked nervously. They all laughed softly as if you could not say something more stupid than this, "I really did....".

Youngjae shrugged BamBam and Yugyeom from beside you, conquering the right side on the couch while Jackson sat on the left, tears brimming in your eyes.

"Shhh~" Youngjae wiped your tears lightly pulling your cheeks, "You can never hurt him, this is just a hard phase that you both will eventually get over with, together".

"What made you think that you are hurting him?" Jackson added, you faced him with a sad eyes,"I—I don't know....it just feels so, he is always smiley face whenever he's with me, but blame my heart because it says that he's somewhere hurting real bad", You explained.

"That's true, he is hurting real bad", JB began as soon as you locked eyes with him, he smiled "But not because of you, he is hurting because of the distance you both have, he's not blaming you for any of that actually he's happy because you....." He pointed at you "You are his heart, is with him but not within him. You know we've seen him crying and mourning over you the entire time. But other than consoling him and encouraging him we had nothing to do".

"He barely ate, barely slept. He kept on switching between you and his work yet managed to do both of them perfectly. We are aware about your condition, and please don't feel as if you asking for sometime was wrong. It was right in your place" Mark explained, "But we also have seen him longing for you, praying continuously for your well being to God, he was dying to hold you in his arms where you belonged".

"Your brain might've deceived you, but your heart won't, the feelings, the emotions and the love that you hold for him will forever be engraved there, because you both love eachother", Youngjae expressed while others nodded in approval.

Tears flowed constantly down your cheeks to your neck, not bothering to wipe them you still listened to each of their views with blurry eyes.

__________

Jinyoung called you in the evening letting you know that he'll be working late, with a quiet yet affectionate 'I Love You', which you obviously didn't reply back.

It's been six months already since you and Jinyoung restarted off as friends. Not even once did he cross the line, although he had every right to hold you in his arms and behave like a possessive boyfriend, instead he gave you so much freedom, just for your sake. He never touched you, not even your hands and it was about time you knew that he is the one for you, he didn't had to really touch you to make you feel things, to make you see how much he loves you because his eyes were enough to tell that you are his world, You are his life, And if you are not here, Then he won't be able to survive.

And the way he took care of you for past six months without asking for anything in return, if this isn't love then you were genuinely not interested in knowing it's actual definition.

Thinking everything to yourself, you drifted off to sleep hugging onto a pillow. Later when Jinyoung arrived home, it was 2am in the morning he was always cautious of his actions and he didn't want to wake you up right now at any cost. He gently pushed open the door to your bedroom, seeing you sleeping peacefully with your luscious hair sprawled over your pillow and some of the locks cascading your face, Jinyoung smiled softly feeling content, walking towards your form, he crouched down on his knees to see your face.

The moonlight landing on your face, making you look ethereal to him, the way your skin shimmered with the moonlight. He could sit and watch you like this for day and night without even blinking. Jinyoung lightly raised his fingers to side your locks being extra careful to not to touch your skin.

"I'm sorry, I promised not to touch you but it's just it's hard to hold back", Jinyoung apologized, finally caressing your head lovingly. "I'm sorry that I'm busy with all these office works and I'm unable to give you time, it's been hectic lately. Sometimes things get so.......so—that I just want to run to you telling you about my problems, like I used to. Your eyes, your smile was enough to say that everything will be alright.....but nothing about you is same anymore, why are you still so uncomfortable with me? I want you back please......When will we be like before?".

"Baby....I am not blaming you for any of that, I can understand. When you were admitted to the hospital the doctors almost gave up, they said that— that.... Maybe y—you won't survive, but I wasn't ready to let you go...hell I won't ever be ready to let you go ever......before losing you I would want to die, seeing you on that hospital ward was enough to wreck me, God knows how many times I wished it was me rather than you lying lifeless ".

Jinyoung has been keeping his feelings bottled up since then, and today they spilled out. He sobbed caressing your hair, "But the look you gave me when I first tried to hug you, I can never forget how hard it hit my heart. You were scared of me...... but I'm glad that you didn't leave me, you decided to stay with me....under the same roof and that was enough. I won't ever give up on you on our love, I love you and I've faith on my love that one day you'll feel the same for me.....till then I'll wait, I'll wait baby".

He stood up from the floor, pressing his lips lightly to your forehead which lingered for awhile, "I Love You so much....". With that he tip-toed out of your room closing the door behind him.

Tears rolled from either side of your eyes onto your pillow, you were asleep but when you heard his voice. You woke up, sobbing to yourself. He sounded so broken. It's not that he didn't listen what role he played in your imagination, it already pained him but the fact that it was making you act accordingly to your imagination in front of him, was stinging his heart.

________

You squirmed under the the sheets as soon as the sunrays landed on your face, seeping through curtains, the blinding light making you squint your eyes still trying to sleep even when you were awake by then. Suddenly you no longer felt the warmth on your face, opening your eyes. You were met with the most pleasant sight ever, and you finally admitted it.

Jinyoung's head blocking the sunrays, locking eyes with his soft alluring ones, you couldn't help but stare at them quite for some time, how can you not look at him when he was staring at you with so much love and affection. You almost lost it when the corners of his mouth tugged upward into a dazzling smile reaching his eyes and you swore it was the first time you noticed him smiling that wide, his eyes crinkling.

"I didn't mean to wake you up" He chuckled nervously, standing up on his feet from the exact spot he was sitting the previous night, sitting up on the bed, you smiled, "It's okay. I was up anyways".

"I brought you breakfast, it's not much though. I woke up late as well, so it was the fastest that I could prepare", He stated, rubbing his nape in embarrassment. That's when your gaze landed on the small glass table in your room, a tray which had french toast and a glass of orange juice.

"You're still here?" You inquired since Jinyoung is barely home in the morning due to his early departure for the office.

"Today's Sunday".

Nodding a little, you got up from the bed standing right in front of him, "Did you eat?".

"Not yet—"

"I'll just go and freshen up, let's eat together", You beamed brightly at him, which for sure made his heartbeat escalate to the sky, "S—Sure", he stammered picking up the tray, leaving your room immediately.

The breakfast grew quite awkward which you both knew about, he informed you about him being free today so if you wanted to go somewhere or wanted to do something, you were yourself feeling very nervous, fidgeting with your finger you asked, "Can we just stay home?".

"Yeah, of course".

"So would you like to have a movie marathon or something?".

Jinyoung got scared suddenly as to why were you not in the mood for movies, as far as he has come to know the new you, you liked watching movies and playing video games on Sundays, then why were you acting so strange.

"If I did something wrong unintentionally then please forgive m—".

"Jinyoung, can we have a reading session?" You suggested, cutting in.

"Yes of course!" He agreed happily, "I have a whole lot of books to read, you can sit on the couch, and I'll sit there", He pointed at the bean bag at the corner of the living room.

You could see how his eyes glowed just by hearing the term 'Books', which also made you smile. Within a minute he was back with a bundle of books in his hand.

"I didn't know which one to pick so I brought all, you can pick any one", he said, extending his arms for you to choose a book from. Instead you grabbed the bundle from his hands.

"Not here, in our room", You chimed, running to your room. The feeling of your unstable heartbeat wasn't foreign at all, instead it felt home. Jinyoung on the other hand dumbfounded by your words. Did you just say what he thought he heard?

Jinyoung felt as if he was falling for you all over again, and that he was trying to approach you, living young love once again. He stood awkwardly waiting for you to command him further, you've been so quiet and simple around Jinyoung, always talking to him in monotone, that he didn't even dare to move a finger against your will. And now when you're finally being soft to him, yet he doesn't have any idea what to do.

You gently held his wrist dragging him to your bed making him sit, he watched you with those lost puppy eyes, "I know that you like to read while laying down on bed, with your head against the headboard, I've seen you reading in that room".

Reluctantly he positioned himself on the bed, his head against the headboard. You immediately placed a pillow on his back so that it won't kill his muscles. Motioning him to begin reading, you flipped through the pages of your book, sitting on the bed beside Jinyoung.

Two minutes into the reading and you could already see Jinyoung with his nose buried deep into the book, while you kept on stealing glances at him, for the first time you were paying so much attention to Jinyoung after waking up from coma, the way his soft black locks were parted revealing his milky forehead,to his perfectly shaped dark eyebrows, to his beautiful almond shaped eyes, to his long straight nose, to his soft plump pink lips.

Holding the book firmly in your hand, you climbed on the bed, taking advantage of Jinyoung's concentrated mind you gently laid your head on his thighs, a shy smile adorning your face as if it was the most normal thing to do. You stared at the words and sentences blankly written in the book, hoping for Jinyoung to say something.

Jinyoung flinched slightly feeling your head against his thighs, more than anything he was surprised to see you initiating the physical contact with him. Lowering his book, he glanced at you who was busy reading, or maybe pretending to be busy with reading.

"What are yo—you d—doing?" He croaked out, his throat drying, he knew how much you disliked to have any sort of physical contact with him. Finally getting a response from him, so the tables have turned now. He was being scared of you.

"What do you mean?" You teased him, with your head still on his thighs. "You—I mean.....it's—", he couldn't even form a proper sentence.

"I'm lying on my Jinyoung's thighs, you got a problem with that?"

Your response shocked the hell out of Jinyoung, his heart stopped for a moment, keeping his book aside, he fixed his gaze on your face which had a pretty grin.

"What did you just say?" He exhaled desperately.

"You are my Jinyoung" You remarked softly, your heart hammering against your chest cavity so loud that you could actually hear it. Swiftly crawling up his legs, you settled on his lap straddling his hips, "You're mine right?", You asked cupping his face in your hands staring deep into his hypnotic eyes.

"Only yours", He whispered both of your faces merely an inch apart, he was getting high just by inhaling your intoxicating smell, it was taking every single fibre in him to resist the urge to kiss you then and there.

"What are you doing?" He whispered, without breaking the eye contact, "Don't—". You shushed him putting your index finger on his lips, "I'll speak and you'll listen".

"I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.....it was just....I genuinely needed some time to put myself in place. But trust me, I never hated you, I was just being cautious. I'm sorry", You cried. Wiping your flowing tears from his thumb, he shook his head, "Don't apologize, I know how difficult it was for you".

"I shouldn't have distanced you from myself when all you did is love me and care for me without asking for anything in return, and not even once did you try to claim me. You selflessly kept me first when your own heart was in pain. Jinyoung.....I can't bring back the old me but I promise that with my new self I'll love you the way you love me, maybe more but nevertheless".

He was speechless at your confession, he never saw that coming from you atleast not like this or anytime soon. The position you both were in was already quite intimate and none of you wanted to let go of eachother. The shimmer of love heavily clouding both of your orbs, were enough to pull both of you to eachother, sending you both overdrive.

"So, Will you forgive me for putting you through all of this alone?", You asked your thumb caressing his cheeks ever so lightly.

Already drowning in your captivating essence, he nodded like a puppet.

"Will you forgive me for keeping you away from your love?".

Nod.

"Will you let me make things right between us?", Your fingers gliding from his cheeks to his jaw.

Nod.

"Will you let me love you all over again?", Your thumb caressing his bottom lip.

Jinyoung was thrown to some trance called you, the way you were straddling his hips with both of your chests pressed against eachother. Such unexpected loving confessions coming from you, in your sexy husky voice was driving him insane. His gaze switching between your inviting lips and your adorable eyes.

"Yes.."

Without any second thoughts, you pressed your lips against his soft ones into a small yet passionate kiss, just to seal your feelings for him, Jinyoung was too dumbfounded to comprehend while you pulled back.

"Did you— Did you just express......that you love..me?".

Pouting childishly, you stared at the wall pretending to be thinking, "Maybe....", Your taunting voice made him smile too.

"I'm sorry for making you wait so long but now, when we finally have eachother I don't want to stay away from you even for a second".

"That means I've full authority on you then?" Jinyoung teased back, with a grin slipping his hands behind your back pulling you closer to him. Your heart literally skipping thousand beats per second, "Yes your highness".

"I don't think that kiss was a real kiss", He smirked, putting your arms behind his neck, you encouraged, "Why don't you show me then?". And he didn't have to be told twice, he pushed you off his lap, pinning you on the bed with your hands on either side of you.

"Are you sure?", He breathed, slightly grazing his teeth over your ear, the sensation of him being so close to you made you blush in different shades of red, you faced the other side closing your eyes shut, "Where did my bold little angel go?".

Had it been earlier you would've cowered away, hearing 'Angel' from him. But the reality is where you will reside with your love, with your soulmate, with your Jinyoung.

"She's right before you, so will you kiss me or not" You provoked him with a sly grin. He chuckled heartily, attaching his lips to your plump ones again, both of your eyes closed. The kiss started slow but passionate, your hand flying to his nape bringing him closer to you if that could be possible, both of your love and emotions entirely poured into the kiss, none of you wanted to pull apart.

If there could be a proper definition of drugs then it would definitely be Jinyoung for you, you cursed yourself in your head for not doing this before, for not letting Jinyoung in sooner. His arms felt home and you were more than happy to be back in your home and God, you will never let anyone come in between you both ever.

Reluctantly pulling away from eachother for oxygen, you both inhaled heavily still staring at eachother affectionately. A fond smile appearing at both of yours lips, resting his forehead against yours, Jinyoung whispered, "I really missed you, I promise to look after you all of my life and not to do anything which will cause us to lose eachother. I love you angel, I love you so much".

"I Love You more Nyoungie", You smiled back, closing your eyes.

__________

"Lisa! Lisa! Here here!" BamBam and Youngjae shouted waving their hands at Lisa who looking here and there trying to locate the sources. Finally finding BamBam and Youngjae waving and yelling frantically, Lisa ran upto her boyfriend hugging him tightly. BamBam twirled Lisa around in his embrace kissing er head.

Youngjae made gagging noises, the same way BamBam did seeing couples showing PDA. Lisa grinned happily, greeting Youngjae.

"It took you so long! You said it would be three day thing and you're returning after a week!" BamBam whined.

"I had to attend the fashion event, the last minute. I couldn't back out" Lisa whined back convincing BamBam, "Leave all this how's unnie and Jinyoung, are they......".

"Yeps they are together finally! Noona accepted all of us and she can't wait to meet you, she didn't really get to meet you earlier".

You and Jinyoung along with other decided to call for a celebration, since you both have finally found way back to eachother plus Lisa was also coming back to Seoul today.

"The restaurant is quite impressive", You commented sitting beside Jinyoung who was cladded in a gorgeous Black Armani suit.

"Thanks to Mark hyung's friend, he owns this pretty restaurant", Jinyoung replied pecking your cheeks despite everyone eyeing you guys. The place was definitely expensive, one can tell just by looking at its interiors and fine lightings.

Lisa entered with BamBam along with her new friend which she met back in Australia who was surprisingly one of the youngest female CEO's of an IT company in Seoul. BamBam immediately rushed upto his friends hugging them one by one. Lisa glanced her friend whose gaze was focused on certain someone.

Nudging her friend's arms, Lisa warned quietly, "I hope you are not still crushing over him, Jinyoung is a taken man....Jisoo".

Facing Lisa with an innocent smile, Jisoo replied, "Of course not....", Thats when Lisa was summoned by BamBam, she motioned Jisoo to follow behind.

Watching Lisa walk to them, Jisoo smirked, crossing her arms to her chest, "I am not crushing over him Lisa.... because I love him".

"I am looking forward to know you personally, Park Jinyoung", her gaze fixed on Jinyoung who was whispering something into your ear making you giggle.

Part 15 // Part 16 (End) // ___________________________

(A/N: So I'm finally done with this FF, I hope you guys enjoyed it. See you next time. And thank you~~~) __________________________________

[imagine-that]

“Topanga, I really don’t think this is a good idea. I’m fine being single. You know that.” You protest, going through your closet to find clothes anyways.

“You need to branch out a bit y/n. You haven’t been on a date in a while and it’ll be fun!” She says as she hands you one of your cardigans and a camisole for underneath. Reluctantly, you pull both on and have to admit it does look perfect.

You grab a pair of jeans and pull them on, examining the outfit in the mirror. You turn to Topanga for approval.

“You look wonderful.” She says with a smile.

“Thank you but I don’t know who you could possibly know that I don’t. We always hang out together and we have like every single class together.” You sigh, running a brush through your hair.

“I never said you didn’t know him.” She says with a laugh. You whip around to look at her again, surprised.

“You mean to tell me I actually know the guy you’re setting me up with? How is that a blind date Topanga?!” You ask nervously.

She gets up off the edge of your bed and puts a hand on your shoulder calmly.

“Relax. He’s a very nice guy. I wouldn’t set you up with him if he wasn’t.” She assures you and you nod, taking a deep breath in order to calm yourself.

“Alright. I believe that, you’ve always been a good friend to me.” You say as you set the brush down. “But I swear if it turns out to be Minkus somehow, I’ll kill you!” You warn quickly and she laughs.

“No it isn’t Stuart, don’t worry.” She says with another smile.

Giving her one last look of scepticism, the two of you leave your room and step outside, getting into Corys parents car quickly.

“Cory I’m sure you know who she set me up with. Is it Minkus? Is it worse than Minkus?” You ask him from the backseat.

“God no.” He laughs a little. “Definitely not Minkus. It’s actually-“ He starts but Topanga gives him a look and he stops talking though his nervous laughter is still in the air.

As you arrive at Chubbies, Topanga and Cory are talking in hushed tones, making you even more nervous.

“Alright come on lovebirds let’s get this over with.” You sigh as you walk through the door. They follow close behind, Cory starting to do his nervous giggle.

You survey the restaurant and are confused to see only one other person your age.

“I’m thinking he isn’t here yet because the only guy in here who’s our age is Shawn and I mean-“ You start but stop abruptly when you see the smile Cory is fighting.

“You didn’t!” You groan, looking to them both for answers.

“Oh but we did.” Cory says with a grin.

“But I already know Shawn! I’ve had a date with Shawn! He doesn’t do more than two weeks per girl. Everyone knows that.” You ramble, biting at the ends of your nails nervously.

“For you y/n, he does. Now go. He’s waiting.” Topanga sing songs, pushing you gently in the direction of his table.

“Topanga Lawrence, you are a dead woman!” You growl and she holds up her hand to stop you, tsking a little bit.

“You only said I was dead if it were Stuart. Shawn is far from Stuart.” She reminds you and you glare between both her and Cory.

“Have fun.” Cory singsongs teasingly, waggling his fingers in a wave as Topanga pushes you over towards Shawn once again.

“You two schemers deserve each other.” You hiss as Topanga shoves you towards the table.

You quickly replace your scowl with a kind smile as you take a seat across from Shawn in his booth.

“Hey Shawnie.” You say happily, picking up your menu to busy yourself.

“H-hey y/n.” He stutters with a smile. You raise an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“I’ve never seen you stutter. What’s wrong? Lose your charm Hunter?” You ask teasingly.

The two of you had been friends for a long time. Even if you were a lot closer to Topanga, you were still always close to Shawn. The two of you talked about almost everything. Then when you went your two weeks of dating you started drifting apart a bit but powered through it for the most part.

“Oh did I stutter? I didn’t notice.” He shrugs. “So Topanga and Cory set us up huh?” He says, clearly wanting to change the subject.

“Yeah for some reason. I was surprised. Don’t they know we had our two weeks?” You ask.

“Oh yeah that’s right we did.” He realizes. You once again raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms.

“You forgot already? It was only a few months ago, should I be offended?” You ask dramatically, waggling your eyebrows playfully.

“No! I mean... I mean no.” He says with a nervous laugh.

“You’re very jumpy tonight. What gives Hunter?” You ask with a smile.

Before he has the chance to respond, the waitress comes with your food. Shawn, knowing you as well as he does, had ordered your regular for you. You however, are surprised to see he doesn’t even flirt with the waitress.

“You remembered, I’m flattered.” You tease with a coy smile as you bite into a fry.

“A burger, fries and a pop. Not hard to forget.” He shrugs but you note the bit of blushing in his cheeks.

“Ok I’ve never seen Shawn Hunter blush. Nor have I ever seen you pass up the chance to flirt with a girl. What gives?” You asks, leaning back with your arms still crossed.

“Nothing gives. I just wasn’t interested in the waitress. Not my kind of woman.” He says with a shrug and a lazy smile.

“You shush with that, shush right up.” You exclaim. He looks at you in pure confusion mixed with a bit of something else you can’t read. “We both know that’s absolutely not true Hunter. So you tell me, you tell me right now what is going on.” You order.

“Always the persistent one, huh y/n/n?” He teases with a smirk. You fix him with a glare that could kill.

Just then, you see Topanga leaving the table she was sharing with Cory and an idea pops into your head.

“Shawn.” You start with a sweet smile.

“Yes y/n?” He asks with a smile equally as sweet that makes you feel like swooning.

“Either you tell me right now why you’re acting so weird or I will go over and shake it out of Cory.” You warn and he looks at you in shock.

“You’re bluffing, you wouldn’t!” He challenges.

You lean in closer to the table, taking a sip of your drink. “I’m not and I totally would.” You tell him, watching his every move.

“He’s delicate! He’ll break under pressure! You wouldn’t do that to him would you y/n?” Shawn rambles and you suppress a laugh.

“I won’t have to if you just tell me what’s going on yourself.” You shrug, looking at him with determination.

“Alright alright jeeze.” He sighs in defeat and your eyes go wide in surprise. “I asked Corey to arrange this. Topanga was the brains though. Cory could not have pulled this off on his own, no matter how much he wishes he could.” He admits with another lazy smile.

“What? Why would you do that? We’ve already had our two week period.” You ask in confusion. For as long as you’d known Shawn, he’d never dated any girl for longer than two weeks. It was unheard of. Shawn was a self titled ladies man and it had been that way always.

“Maybe two weeks isn’t all I wanted this time.” He says with a shrug.

“Shawn... what are you saying?” You ask hesitantly.

“I’m saying that I like you as more than a friend.” He blurts, his quirky nervous giggle interrupting him mid sentence. “There, I said it. I blurted it right out.” He sighs, looking at you with hope in his eyes.

“Shawn...” You start and he perks up even more. “You can be such a nut sometimes.” You laugh.

“Huh?” He asks, clearly confused.

“You had Cory and Topanga ask me out for you.” You state, still laughing.

“Yeah and once again, huh?!” He asks.

“You should’ve just asked me out yourself you big dumby. I mean, it’s not like you don’t have the charm and good looks for it.” You giggle.

Shawn blinks at you a bit blankly.

“Oh my god. Ok I have to spell it out.” You sigh. “I like you too.” You say slowly, watching closely for his reaction.

“As a friend?” He asks, clearly worried.

“No you idiot! As more than a friend.” You explain.

He looks even more alarmed than he did before.

“Oh.” Is all he says, leaning back.

“Shawn? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What exactly were you expecting to happen?” You ask, reaching an arm over the table to grab his hand.

He flinches away a little bit but still holds your hand. “I’m fine. Just... wasn’t totally expecting an actual positive response.” He admits.

You smile at him, amused. “Really? You had absolutely no idea that I liked you back?” You question.

“None. Actually, you should be proud. I usually notice when a pretty girl likes me.” He grins, regaining his usual composure with ease.

You giggle nervously, feeling a smile spreading across your lips and a blush rising in your cheeks.

“Well... she does.” You say coyly, fiddling with your fingers.

He does his nervous giggle again and you purse your lips, covering your own laugh.

“You’re truly adorable.” You tell him, the smile never falling from your face.

“So are you. Now say it again. I know I am, I just like to here it coming from your mouth.” He says with a ginormous grin.

“You sound like Cory you dope.” You giggle and he looks at you expectantly. “Ok fine, you’re adorable.” You add a moment later, shaking your head with a grin.

“How’d you do it anyways?” You ask thoughtfully as you take a bite out of your burger.

“Do what?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Get them to arrange this.” You explain. “I mean, I get Cory but Topanga is a tough nut to crack. After the two weeks, she wanted you dead.” You add.

“Oh! That! It was actually pretty easy. All I did was go up to her and say I like this one, get a dopey, Cory like smile and then I started that weird, annoying laugh I get about you and she was basically begging to plan this.” He informs you with proud smile.

“Ah yes, I believe that’d definitely do it for her.” You respond with a small laugh.

Suddenly, your laughing and grinning are interrupted by Shawn quickly jumping to your side and pressing his lips against yours.

Your eyes are wide with surprise for a second before you recover and return the kiss. After a moment, Shawn pulls away with a big grin of his own.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for years. Without the two week limit, of course.” He tells you with a smirk.

You giggle again. “Well I’m glad you did because now I have the courage to do this.” You tell him as you grab his face in your hands and press your lips on his again.

When you pull away, he looks like he could faint.

“Well I’m glad you did.” He repeats your words and you break out in a laugh.

The two of you spend the rest of your date on that side of the booth, laughing and pelting fries at each other every now and then, both silently thanking your crazy schemer friends for doing what neither of you had the courage to do yourselves.