#i miss when i wasn’t chronically ill

[nurse-buckley]

.

[fancyhandsbakery]

Shout out to the disabaled people who were active kids. Who were always outside. Who were always playing sports. Who tried to remain athletic for as long as possible. Who one day had to quit the one thing that made them happy because it was just to draining. Was just too painful. And now when you see family they are like ‘Oh do you still play such and such’ and you have to be like ‘no, I had to quit.’ And their like ‘why’ and you’re like ‘I was to sick’ and then they go ‘you should get back into it’ and you internally scream because lifting your backpack causes you to be out of breath, your muscles hurt for weeks after squatting once to get something in a low cupboard, being outside in low 70/60 degree weather makes you sweat through your shirt and makes you so dehydrated.

[danielnelsen]

there’s so much i wanna do this week/month/etc but i’m just too sick, i have no energy, i can’t sleep, i’m constantly nauseous and headachey and on the verge of a migraine, i’m stressed and irritable and impatient and panicky…….how tf did i survive nearly 5 years of high school untreated if i can’t even manage this when i don’t have any major obligations rn

[nurse-floyd]

Hi can u write a f!Reader x lando where the reader is anaemic has vry low iron? Like where he helps her when she’s feeling sick and takes care of her. Thought this would be fitting as ur a nurse!! A comfort/fluff/hurt fic super excited for ur upcoming works.

I am SO sorry this is so late! My mental health has been awful as late and chronic fatigue has been kicking my butt! I hope you enjoy this little ficlet <3

You sat on one of the chairs in the McLaren garage, watching the screens with your bright orange headphones during the last free practice. You were excited being there to support your boyfriend, Lando but you also wanted nothing more than to be curled up in the king size bed that waited for you back at your hotel.

Lando, hadn’t missed how pale you had looked that morning, how slugging your movements had been as you practically crawled out of the hotel bed to follow him and hang out at the paddock for the day.

“I think we should make another doctor's appointment for you with the next break coming up, what do you think?”

You had groaned in response. You hated doctors and needles but you knew he was right. You’d always suffered with low iron and the telltale symptoms were exactly the same as last time. Admittedly with all the travel you hadn’t been keeping up with the supplements the doctor had provided last time.

Lando tried to tell you that you didn’t need to come, that you could sleep in a little longer and follow him later for quali, but you argued. Lando knew better than to continue that argument when you were so adamant in your ways.

As soon as FP3 ended and Lando was out of his car, you were the first person he looked for. He could see the exhaustion on your face, how pale you looked and the way you leant against the wall as if you’d fall if it wasn’t there. He pushed his way to your side and held your elbows in support. “I suppose if I told you to go back to the hotel you wouldn’t, would you?”

You shook your head and immediately regretted it as a wave of dizziness washed over you.

“Come on, let’s get you sat down,” he said as he gently guided you towards the hospitality area.

He kept one hand around your back for support as he loaded up a plate full of snacks and grabbed a bottle of water for you. He led you towards his driver's room and settled you down on the sofa pulling off your shoes to make you comfortable. He turned the TV on, so you could still watch him in support and he’d have the peace of mind you were resting.

“Thank you, Lan,” you whispered. You hated being ill, hated looking so weak but you knew Lando didn’t see you any less for it and loved and cared for you anyway.

As soon as qualifying was over and he’d fulfilled his media duties, Lando took charge and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He helped you to your feet, with a supportive hand around your back as he led you towards his car. He buckled you in, despite your protest that you could do it yourself as he leant in and placed a kiss to your cheek. “Let me look after you baby.”

The pair of you drove towards your home for the weekend. Lando ordered takeout for you both as you threw on your cozy LN4 hoodie and climbed under the covers. As you both tucked into your meals, you couldn’t help but be so grateful to have a boyfriend like Lando in your life.

[lizardaggro]

on the flip side (twst bully!au) pt 3

here we are, the long-awaited (it was literally like 1 day) part 3!! i wanted to declare on one of the actual chapters since those get seen by the most people that I DID NOT MAKE THIS AU, credit i believe goes to @azulsluver. i swear i don't hate you guys, leaving everything on a cliffhanger, but the good news is i have a lot of time on my hands due to chronic illness so i can update super often. also i gave up on the purple theme on posts bc tumblr hates me and always leaves the end of the word count black.

part 1 part 2

genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, mild yandere (will be escalating throughout the series, but no non-con) word count: 1246

You couldn’t really afford to space out and think about it though, not when he was right in front of you. Riddle tapped his foot impatiently, clearly irate at your lack of response. “Well?” He asked. “Do you not even have anything to say in your defense?”

Oh dear. However were you supposed to get rid of him when he was so intent on getting some sort of answer out of you? You had no idea what he wanted! He was more difficult to threaten, too, since you’d made up your mind that you didn’t want to be like your tormentors and completely ruin others’ lives. No, your end goal was just to make them leave you alone. After everything you’d been through, you really didn’t want to see them again.

It might seem strange to some people, that you weren’t dead set on destroying any semblance of normalcy they once had. You had all the ammunition you needed, of course. The Overblot victims would be the easiest to topple, considering what they’d done in and leading up to that state. But you didn’t think you were a particularly vengeful person; at least, you didn’t want to be. Crowley had always said that you must’ve been sent here to get his precious students to work together, so clearly you weren’t like them.

“I never asked for this, Riddle. Any of this. So if you think somewhere in your fucked-up mentality that you’re doing me some sort of favor, you’re dead wrong,” you intoned. Indeed, even though you just wanted them gone, you missed the days when you were all friends. Back when you thought everyone had your back no matter what. Oh, if only you knew what they’d do for you. It wouldn’t be hard at all to push some of the more unstable students over the edge. Those who felt they didn’t have anyone else. Much like a certain dragon fae who never did seem to get invited to things.

Riddle looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, he was drenched by a great torrential rain. Where did that come from? Didn’t the forecast say it was supposed to be clear skies and sunny for the rest of the week? Your question was soon answered, as you had two more visitors.

“Silver? Sebek? What brings you here?” You inquired, not at all amused. When those two showed up at the same time, it could only mean one thing, and it wasn’t good. Riddle looked like he had caught on as well, since he stepped in front of you, as if that would do any good.

“LORD MALLEUS REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCE!!” Sebek boomed. You’d made progress on his volume in the past, so you were sure he did it just to annoy you. Silver just stared. He always stared, you felt like. Sometimes you swore you could feel his eyes on you even when he was nowhere to be found.

“Oh, gee, I wonder what that’s about,” you snarked. “Poor little princey-poo doesn’t want his embarrassing little secrets getting out? Well you can tell him to fuck off.” You must’ve been feeling especially brave, since normally you knew that defying Malleus Draconia was as good as a death sentence. He wasn’t even that bad, compared to some of the others. He just… locked you in his room and made you listen to him talk, with no room to get a word in edgewise. He’d go on and on about one thing or another for HOURS, with no regard for your schedule or your bodily needs. Clearly fae had a different sense of time than most.

It was the loss of control over your own life that you hated; that, and that if he really still considered you a friend, he never bothered to do anything about your bullies. You knew he was more than capable; you’d witnessed his strength firsthand on multiple occasions. You didn’t know what his endgame was, and frankly you were too scared to find out. He could trap you there forever and you wouldn’t be able to do a single thing about it.

Sebek was not amused. He raised an arm, likely to strike you, but Silver placed a hand on it, effectively stopping him. “Don’t. You wouldn’t want Lord Malleus to see a bruise on them,” he reasoned. You didn’t get it. Since when would he care? Sebek roughly shoved Riddle out of the way, despite all his objections, and nonchalantly slung you over his shoulder.

“What the hell?!” You screeched, pounding your fists on his back. “Put me down! I’m not going!” You weren’t sure why you were objecting so vehemently; this time wasn’t any different than the others. But something about the dark gray clouds pouring rain on what should’ve been a lovely day just told you that this was not going to be good.

But alas, your plight was ignored. The three of you made your way to Diasomnia in silence. No one bothered to stop and stare in the halls, as you being carried off by people was somewhat of a normal occurrence. You could swear Savannahclaw and Diasomnia even had some sort of twisted capture-the-flag game going, for whatever reason.

When you entered the gothic-style castle, you were greeted by none other than Lilia. Much like Malleus, he’d never bothered you too terribly, only engaging in less-than-welcome pranks. You knew he was far older than he let on, so you supposed he didn’t see the point in such childish endeavors. There was, however, one thing you feared about the man: his cooking, which he tried to shove down your throat at every opportunity. How Silver grew up healthy you’d never know.

And so, of course, you were greeted by a plate of… well, goop, to put it nicely. “Here, have a seat, dear, I made lasagna,” Lilia offered with what you assumed was supposed to be a warm smile. To you in that moment, with the fumes starting to reach your nose, it looked like a shit-eating grin.

“I’ll pass, thanks. That is to say, I’d rather die than eat that shit, because it looks and smells like it’ll send me straight to hell,” you deadpanned. Sebek let out an unholy screech and started ranting about how dare you refuse Lord Lilia, even though you knew he wouldn’t want to eat it either. You did your best to tune him out. Silver looked relieved, surprisingly enough. You supposed he was able to empathize since he grew up eating the stuff.

Luckily for you, Lilia just sighed and walked off, taking his culinary abomination with him. The three of you who remained shared a look. “How are you still alive after all these years?” You asked Silver. He shrugged. If even he didn’t know, you’d just call it a miracle.

“SILVER, QUIT FRATERNIZING WITH THE ENEMY! LORD MALLEUS IS WAITING!” Sebek practically screamed in your ear. You really wished he would stop doing that. But you had more important things to worry about, like your impending death by dragon fae. Once you arrived at Malleus’s room, Sebek set you down and pushed you inside. You heard the lock click behind you. You gulped, feeling the pressure of being alone in a room with a presumably angry and very powerful mage. You looked up to see a pair of emerald eyes staring you down. Oh boy, this was not going to be fun.

taglist: @twistedcece @slxt4h1m @teawhere @pleasehugmeaether @reivelmin @aoiyx

[shellxrls]

okay let’s talk about how John b fucks. because ohmyfuckinggod

he has such and incredible, immaculate, crazy, aneurism inducing stroke game I cannot even begin to describe it. he just gets it. like ughhh.

he’s so thick and girthy and his VEINS!!! ugh. like I swear it just makes it even better. he has this one vein that runs alll the way down the underside of his cock NMFJFJDH. perfection.

okay I’m going off topic. when John b fucks. he takes it seriously. he will never, and I mean never intentionally neglect someone that he loves. and he is very very firm about that rule in the bedroom.

he always takes it slow at the beginning. he is amazing with the foreplay. sloppy kisses and HEAD!!! AMAZING HEAD!!!! and fingering. oh the fingering.

he knows he’s big, and he knows that it’s nearly impossible to get used to like ughhgh. has to spend minutes jst using his fingers to get me stretched out and ready.

and yall already know HE TALKS THROUGH IT!!! he uses the nickname ‘dolly’ which honestly I wasn’t expecting but I did not complain I can tell you that.

he lovessss pretty noises, and honestly acts like he’s not expecting it and maybe he isn’t but like.. ?? you really expect me not to whimper when ur four fingers knuckles deep inside??

but genuinely, he’s so soothing and lovely. comforting works and always coaxing sweetly.

the foreplay varies by instance but the sex is almost always the same. medium paced, gentle but rough, and soooo just ugh. makes the brain go to mush on autopilot.

he’s just so daddy. like omg. omg. ugh. daddy. he is daddy. daddy is him. I cannot exaggerate this enough.

he is dick is so perfect literally every time he goes in he hits that spot. you know the spot.

he makes these little grunting noises every time he thrusts in it’s so hawt like omg.

he LOVES a good mating press.

he’s also a titty sucker. and. he is. a. TOTAL. munch. he’s so sloppy when he’s suckin on the clit all perfect.

and you bet he does not EVER struggle to find the clit either. this man has experience.

he is also HEAVY. like his whole person he jst pins me down so effortlessly ugh. he literally radiates dominance.

he’s also a chronic clit rubber 🤞🏻always had a thumb on my clit over my shorts or under my skirt.

and he reeks of casual dominance. if I’m being bratty or just whiny he’ll just cup my pussy like it’s nothing. talking in that low voice like SLUT ME OUT.

he lovesss receiving head. normally he’ll be sitting down, me on my knees infront of him. he holds my hair back and guides me <333 ugh he is just SO daddy.

he also loves dry humping <3 ugh like if we’re outside the chateau at sunset n ill just hump on him for ages like YESSS.

also this surprised me but he has a mild choking kink, not like hardcore but he’ll wrap a hand round the throat definitely, even if he doesn’t apply too much pressure.

he’s also a pretty moaner <3

massive breeding kink too!!!! like ugh mhh ohh I love it. he shoots BIG loads so those creampies are immaculate.

when it’s all finished he’ll dip and hand down and scoop some of his cum up and feed it to me <333 mhh

and he is the KING!!! of aftercare. the absolute sweetest. has a checklist in his mind of things to make sure we both keep up our personal hygiene during and after sex. always wiped me up and is very avid that I don’t do too much very physical stuff after cause he fucks for a long time and he fucks deep so bet I’ll be tired af.

lots of cuddles and kisses <33 ugh love him.

okay I think that’s all the points but if I’ve missed anything out or if there’s anything else yall wanna know lmk!!

- rafe shifter

CRYING SCREAMING THIS IS MY BIBLE. this is my holy text oh my god.

PLSS i know that one vein must jut out and feel so fucking GOOD ohmygosksjsjdk.

i can’t even function him just being casually dominant and so daddy mode is making me SICK . clenching my thighs i knew he wld be like this <33.

‘dolly’ IS SO CUTE IM SICK PLEASE. it’s def the grandpa in him and i’d say it to his face no shame 🙏🏼.

i can imagine the grunts i know they’re practically punched outta him with every grind and thrust AGH !!

love that he uses your clit like a little fidget toy that so cute !! i’d never stop wearing shorts and skirts around him tbh bcuz that’s daddy wdym !!

also jeez i need to write a breath play drabble with him now bcuz i’d never though ab it before but i bet those biceps are perfect for choking someone out <3.

i love him so much and once again THANK YOU BABES !! cannot ever say it enough honestly this has been the highlight of my week and i love talking ab it with you <3.

[starlightkun]

➠ word count: 13.5k ➠ warnings: scenes of a child crying if you don’t want to read that (nightmares and stuff), also people are called mommy/daddy in this so if you can’t be normal abt that please skip this one ➠ genre: fluff, angst? but like around them in terms of life not within their relationship, established relationship, parents sungchan/reader, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), part of the buzzer beater series (after freezing the puck, or if you’ve only read buzzer beater & 27jsc, this should still make sense!) ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ author’s note: i can’t believe we’re finally done omg. i miss them so much already 🤧 thank you so much to everybody who has followed along with this series! i wasn’t expecting this to be a whole series, nor for so many people to like this fic that i started when i was feeling super frustrated with my migraines. it was definitely something that was super personal and specific to me that i was blown away by how many of y’all liked it and told me you related. so thank you, again!! ➠ series masterlist

“Really? You’re reading Breton lais to our child?” Sungchan’s teasing whisper was barely audible. “He’s going to start school saying stuff like nary and furthermore.”

“Says the man who knew I was reading a Breton lai,” you shot back just as quietly.

“Binnie, are you ready to go see Daddy?” You asked your son excitedly as you unbuckled his seatbelt, helping him out of the backseat and onto the parking lot pavement.

“Yeah!” He yelled out, the small sound echoing impressively in the open area. The five-year-old ran ecstatic circles around you as you walked calmly towards the university’s ice rink. “Mommy, am I skating with Daddy today?”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him nicely after he’s done working,” you informed Woobin as he skidded to a half-skip half-walk next to you, grabbing your gloved hand with his.

Walking into the hockey rink that you knew like the back of your own hand at this point, you saw the Raptors still practicing, and guided your son into the bleachers so you two could watch. Woobin climbed up on the seat next to you, standing on it so he could actually see, and you offered a hand for him to keep himself balanced. He used it until he felt stable, then pushed it away insistently. A few of the players waved at you two, and you both waved back, your son as enthusiastic as ever when he got noticed, waving practically with his entire little body.

Sungchan was on the ice, directing two players with his back to you, and as he skated backward away from them for them to line up and continue practicing, he happened to glance over his shoulder and in your direction. You raised a casual hand in greeting, and he waved back. Woobin sent him a zealous, flying kiss with his whole arm, and Sungchan visibly laughed and immediately went to do it back. After the two players that he’d been instructing had presumably corrected the issue, your husband gave them both pats on the shoulder before skating over your way.

Woobin screamed out a “Hi Daddy!” so loud you were sure the entire campus could hear him, and every head on the ice turned around to look. You burst into laughter, rubbing his back fondly at his enthusiasm, and Sungchan covered his face as he chortled as well.

A few minutes later and Coach called practice, the players slowly starting to filter off the ice and into the locker room. You guided Woobin down through the bleachers towards the gate, where Sungchan was waiting for the two of you.

Your husband had already opened the gate to the ice, standing on the flooring just off it, where you and your son were walking. Woobin flung himself at his legs at full-speed, and Sungchan easily picked him up, beaming as he kissed his forehead.

“Hey, buddy!” Sungchan grinned, readjusting your son’s beanie.

“Hi, Daddy!” He chirped back, bouncing in his arms.

“Hi, hon,” he kissed your cheek, and you gave his a quick peck in greeting as well.

“Hey, Channie.” You slipped your arm around his back in a one-armed hug. “Little dude wants to ask you something.”

“Oh really?” Sungchan focused his inquisitive eyebrow raise at your son.

“Can I skate with you? Please? Pretty please? Pretty pretty please?” Woobin immediately put on his best pout and puppy dog eyes, a display that always made you wonder how he wasn’t genetically Sungchan’s. The two of you had agreed some time ago that with your chronic migraines having a genetic component, you didn’t want to risk passing it down, and had looked into fostering initially. Woobin was your first placement at just a few days old, and he never left, the adoption going through right before his second birthday.

“Mr. Coach ended practice early, so we do have a few minutes,” your husband qualified his acquiescence.

“Yay!”

“You joining us, hon?”

“Sure.”

After fetching yours and your son’s skates from his office, Sungchan helped Woobin put his on, then double checked yours as always. Having married a former collegiate hockey player turned collegiate hockey coach, you’d gotten proficient enough at lacing up your own skates, but he wanted be sure every time that you weren’t going to twist your ankle, or have them come untied, or something else unfortunate.

Coach was still on the ice with the current goalie and center on one end, so you and your family kept to the other side. Woobin squealed and yipped with delight as Sungchan half-carried and half-pulled him around on the ice, you trailing behind with a fond smile on your lips as you watched on.

“Mr. Coach!” Woobin suddenly called to the other end of the rink.

“Oh, Binnie, Mr. Coach is working right now,” Sungchan tried to divert him. “We should leave him alone for now, buddy.”

“What was that, champ?” Coach’s gruff voice responded, the older man starting in your direction.

Woobin was absolutely thrilled to have his attention now, trying to pull Sungchan that way. “Mr. Coach! Mr. Coach!”

“I’m right here, kiddo,” he smoothly stopped right in front of your son. “I’m old but I’m not deaf yet. What do you want to tell me?”

“Mommy signed me up for my own hockey team today!” Woobin told him proudly. “Are you gonna be my coach too?”

“I don’t coach every hockey team in the world, you know.”

Woobin looked down at his skates dejectedly, as if he hadn’t considered this possibility before now.

“But… I did let your dad talk me into being his assistant coach for a certain little league team this season. Was that yours?” Coach asked teasingly, making the boy let out a loud gasp of realization.

“Was it, Daddy? Was it?” He looked up at your husband with wide eyes.

“Maybe…” Sungchan replied with a sly grin.

Woobin rounded on you, buzzing with excitement. “Did you hear that, Mommy? Mr. Coach is gonna be my coach!”

“I heard, buddy. Just like he was your Daddy’s coach,” you chuckled. Looking up at the older man, you added, “How does that make you feel, Coach? Teaching multiple generations?”

“Like my back is going to give out any day now,” he groaned and grabbed his lumbar. “Don’t remind me, Y/N, please.”

You laughed, making a motion of zipping up your lips and throwing away the key.

“Anyway, let me finish up with these two,” he gestured to the two Raptors still milling about on the other end of the ice. “Are you locking up, Jung?”

“Not today, got some errands to run before buddy’s naptime,” Sungchan explained.

“I’m five, I don’t need a nap anymore!” Woobin insisted.

“Hey, champ, look at me,” Coach requested, and waited until he had his attention before continuing. “How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know, like a hundred?”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, grabbing Sungchan’s arm for support as he at least had the decency to cover his mouth to hide his chuckles.

Coach nodded, not breaking eye contact with your son. “Exactly. I’m like a hundred, and I still take naps.”

“Really?”

“Really. You need them to make sure your brain—” he poked the boy’s forehead “—and your body—” he poked his belly, making him giggle “—are at their best. Especially a growing kid like you.”

“So why do you need them? If you’re not a kid anymore?”

“I’m saying you need them extra because you’re a kid. Grown-ups need them sometimes too.”

He pouted thoughtfully for a moment, then pointed up at you. “Mommy takes naps when she has a migraine. That’s when her head hurts really, really bad.”

“There you go. Told you they weren’t just for kids.” Coach stood up straight, cracking his back with a satisfied groan. “I’ll see you all later, okay?”

“Bye, Mr. Coach!” Woobin waved enthusiastically.

“See you Monday, Coach,” Sungchan nodded to him.

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him, and he shot you a wink over his shoulder before skating back over to his players, his voice immediately souring as he started barking out orders again.

With the excitement of his upcoming little league team on his mind, your son insisted on having Sungchan show him moves and maneuvers today. You were of course the default practice dummy both for Sungchan to demonstrate, and your son to practice. Which only worked so well since none of you had sticks or a puck or gear of any kind except for your skates, but Woobin was having fun, so you were happy.

Coach eventually finished with the guys at the other end, and as you saw him start off the ice first, you called out to him, “Done for the day, Coach?”

He turned back to you. “I wish! Got some paperwork to finish up in the office! If somebody’s bleeding—call 911, not me!”

You laughed, giving him a final wave as he headed off. About to turn to your family to suggest that you leave to do your errands as well, you spotted the two Raptors players still loitering by the goal, no longer practicing, and yet still not rushing to leave.

“You boys need something?” You asked them knowingly.

“Well, if it’s alright with you, Professor…” the goalie, who had been in your Intro to Literary Theory and Criticism class last spring, began.

“We were wondering if we could see if we could skate with the MVP too?” The center finished hopefully.

“Just for a little! We heard you telling Coach you guys had errands to run before his naptime!” His friend rushed to add.

Woobin’s focus had already started waning on his impromptu lesson from his dad, and as you looked over, you could see Sungchan beginning to wind down on his instructing as he realized this. You checked the time on your phone, then looked back to the two college boys. “Sure, you can ask Binnie if he wants to skate.”

They erupted into celebratory hoots, chest-bumping before practically tossing aside their unnecessary equipment. Suddenly realizing themselves, they collected themselves and turned to you, bowing their heads politely. “Thank you, Professor.”

“You’re welcome, boys,” you replied with humor in your voice, watching as they took off, seemingly racing each other to Sungchan and Woobin.

You could hear bits of their conversation from where you were leaning against the wall halfway down the rink, and watched fondly as your son’s face lit up with enthusiasm, then the Raptors players started pulling him down the ice with them, his delighted laughter bouncing around the rink.

Sungchan leisurely skated over and stopped in front of you. With a great flourish, he bowed and offered his hand out to you. You laughed, placing your hand atop his, and he dropped a kiss to the back of your gloved fingers. He stood up straight again, pulling you off the wall with little resistance from you, before taking both your hands and beginning to skate backwards in front of you, guiding you along with him. Neither of you chose to mention the fact that you knew how to skate just fine, playing along with the fun of the moment as he easily took you around the rink that you were sure he could navigate with his eyes closed at this point.

“Oh, do we have dishwasher pods on the list?” You suddenly asked as soon as the thought popped into your mind.

“We put it on there last night when we loaded the dishwasher and saw that we were almost out,” he reassured you, not even breaking stride.

“Right, thanks.” You smiled, giving his hands a squeeze.

“I also put dish soap on there this morning, by the way.”

“I love you.”

He slowed the two of you down on the far side of the rink, letting go of one of your hands to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you closer. “I love you too, baby.”

After doing a few things out and about, the three of you headed home.

“Hey, buddy,” Sungchan called for your son’s attention, his hands occupied with groceries. “Do you want me or Mommy to help you get ready for your nap? Or are you going to try to do it yourself?”

“Mm…” He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Mommy!”

“Alright, help with the groceries then I’ll help you, Binnie,” you bargained, putting a bag down on the ground in his reach.

As Woobin dutifully put the bags of chips and boxes of gummies on the lower shelves of the pantry that he could reach, you and Sungchan quickly put away the rest of the groceries. When there was just cleaning and other household supplies left, your husband grabbed those and nodded towards your son.

“Go put buddy down, I’ve got this.”

“Thanks, Channie,” you pecked his cheek before turning to your child. “Lead the way!”

Woobin was able to get into his pajamas by himself, so you were really just there to tuck him in and kiss his forehead. You never bought into the “cry themselves out” mindset from the get-go, and to this day would sit with him until he fell asleep if he asked.

Except this time, he didn’t get into bed at all, standing next to the piece of furniture with you and staring at it like you were about to cliff dive instead of nap. He looked up at you, and you already saw his bottom lip quivering.

“Mommy?”

“Yeah, Binnie, I’m right here, my sweet,” you promised, kneeling down in front of him so you were eye-to-eye. “What’s wrong?”

He threw his arms around your neck, taking quick, shallow breaths as he very bravely tried to communicate with you. “I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna…”

“Okay, I won’t make you right now,” you promised, rubbing his back. “Will you tell me what’s making you upset? Is it the nap? Going to sleep? Did you have a bad dream?”

But he had already devolved into incomprehensible sobs, and you bit your lip at the twinge in your chest. “Alright, sweet, how about we go to Mommy and Daddy’s room? Hm? And I’ll read you something. If you don’t want to nap, you don’t have to today, okay? Sound good?”

You could feel him nod into your shoulder, and that was all you needed to pick him up and settle him on your hip to carry him out of his room. As you passed by Sungchan putting away new bottles of dish soap and dishwasher pods under the sink, he gave you a concerned look. You mouthed a ‘later’ to him as you took your son across your house and into your room. As you passed by your bookshelf, you quickly selected a book, then sat down at the head of your bed, Woobin on your lap. Pulling your blanket up over you two, you let him get settled in and comfortable, still very much crying all the while.

Holding your book with one hand and resting the other on his back, you started reading. After a while, his sobs died down to hiccups, which petered out to just the occasional sniffle. But you could see that he was still awake, his eyes open and following your place as you read. Then, after a while longer, they started to slowly fall shut and his chin would tilt down, then he’d quickly open his eyes again and jerk his head up. Finally, he couldn’t fight the heaviness of his lids, and he fell asleep. You put your bookmark in where you were just before his eyes closed, but kept reading past that, just in case. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the door handle slowly turn, and your bedroom door inch open before Sungchan peered in.

Your husband pointed to the boy in your lap, then made a gesture of pretending to sleep on a pillow, lifting his eyebrows questioningly after. You nodded, still reading softly.

Sungchan slipped in the room, closing the door quietly behind him as well. Having come to a stopping place, you finally closed your book and set it aside on the one you already had on your nightstand.

“Really? You’re reading Breton lais to our child?” Sungchan’s teasing whisper was barely audible. “He’s going to start school saying stuff like nary and furthermore.”

“Says the man who knew I was reading a Breton lai,” you shot back just as quietly.

“Getting married to a lit professor, you pick up a few things.” He then looked down at Woobin. “What happened?”

You sighed and readjusted slightly to hold him tighter now that you had two free arms. “I don’t know. He couldn’t tell me. As soon as he had to get into bed for his nap he just… broke down.”

A deep frown cut across Sungchan’s face as he stroked your son’s hair, but he said nothing else. He left the room, and you heard him moving around throughout the house as you picked up the other book from your nightstand. Eventually, he meandered back in, sitting on his side of the bed and setting up his laptop to quietly work beside you as your son continued napping on your lap and you continued your book. In addition to doing research at the university and being the assistant coach for the hockey team, Sungchan had picked up teaching a couple of Intro to Biology for majors sections, and you could see him answering emails from his students out of the corner of your eye. You were rereading the material for the Direct Study you were leading next semester.

Eventually, Woobin slowly started stirring, grumbling, yawning, and rubbing at his eyes before burying his face back in your chest with a sigh. You stroked his back, attention still on your book. He turned over in your arms when he finally decided that he was awake, blinking his eyes open and staring off into the middle distance.

“Hey, Binnie, you awake?” Sungchan asked quietly.

He nodded slowly, stretching his arms up, and you had to duck your head out of the way to avoid getting smacked in the face by a stray hand.

“Sleep good?” Your husband kept talking to him.

He nodded again, letting out another adorable little yawn.

“Of course you did,” Sungchan chuckled, gently pinching the tip of his nose. “You got the best seat in the house right there, bud.”

Woobin made grabby hands at Sungchan, and he moved his laptop to the side to transfer him from your lap to his, pressing a kiss to his forehead once he was settled in against his chest.

“Uncle Chenle is going to be over soon,” you reminded your son of your plans for the night. “Are you excited?”

He perked up at this. “Yeah! He said he was gonna bring me back a souvenir!”

“He does love to spoil you,” Sungchan shook his head, ruffling the boy’s hair.

As Woobin busied himself with his toys in his room, the horrors of naptime all but forgotten, you and Sungchan were having a fervent, whispered conversation in your bedroom.

“Should we even go tonight?” You asked, pulling your outfit on.

“I know, I’m worried about bedtime…” Sungchan sighed, nevertheless assisting you with your zipper.

“Chenle’s really good with him, and you know how much he dotes on Woobin.” You paused in front of the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles. You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince yourself or your husband at this point.

“I know, I don’t doubt how much he loves our kid, or how much buddy loves him,” he replied, fidgeting with his tie behind you. “I just… would hate to not be there.”

“Me too,” you replied quietly, turning around to fix his tie yourself. “I can practically feel the stress migraine coming on thinking about it.”

“Okay, well don’t do that, baby,” Sungchan insisted, resting his hands on your waist to pull you closer. “I mean, that didn’t happen at bedtime yesterday, did it?”

“No, it didn’t,” you agreed. “Or naptime yesterday…”

“Who’s to say it’ll happen at bedtime today?” He suggested. “Might’ve been a one-time thing. Or only for naps.”

“Right.” You breathed out, having finished with his tie, and now looked up at him questioningly. “So we’re going?”

“Seems like it.”

“We should still give Chenle a heads-up.”

“Of course.”

Chenle pulled up in his sleek luxury car soon after, and you made sure to greet him at the door while Sungchan helped Woobin put his toys up.

“Whew! Look at you!” Chenle whistled as he pulled back from hugging you, grabbing your hand and twirling you around. “MILF! MILF! MILF!”

You laughed, shaking him off. “Quiet! You’re a menace, I swear. You better be filtering around my child.”

“Of course, of course.” He held his hands up in surrender, and you saw that one held a gift bag. A rather large gift bag.

“And what did you bring him this time? Milan, was it?”

“A model of the Arco della Pace for us to build together, of course.”

“Oh, of course.” You shook your head fondly, but couldn’t stop the worry from overtaking your mood. “Chenle, I do have to tell you something.”

Your friend immediately matched your change in mood, furrowing his brow with concern. “Everything okay, Y/N?”

“When I was trying to put Binnie down for his nap today, he couldn’t get into his bed. He couldn’t tell me what was wrong, he just started crying and saying he didn’t want to. He had to take his nap in our room with the two of us. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I wanted to give you a heads up, in case it happens again at bedtime, since I know you always say he’s really good for you. If it does, just call and we’ll come right back, okay? Don’t feel bad at all, it’s not your fault.”

Chenle listened carefully and nodded thoughtfully as you explained the situation to him. “Okay, yeah. Are you two sure you even want to go? We can all have a really fun hangout with Uncle Chenle and then I can peace before bedtime if that’s what needs to happen tonight.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip, but ultimately shook your head. “We told Ten we were going to be there. I’d like to at least try to see him accept the award.”

“Of course.” Chenle patted his chest. “I won’t take it personally if he starts crying for Mommy at bedtime tonight.”

“When you put it like that I really don’t want to go.”

“Go,” he insisted. “We’ll be fine.”

“Uncle Chenle!” A delighted squeal came as your son ran in, wrapping himself around Chenle’s legs like a koala.

“Hey, Binnie!” Your friend beamed down at him, squeezing his cheeks in one hand. “How are you?”

“I’m good!” His words were a little garbled as Chenle smushed his face.

“Hey, Chenle,” Sungchan greeted him as well, patting him on the shoulder as he walked by to get to your side.

“Hey, Sungchan!”

“Are you ready to go, hon?” Your husband asked you as the other two started an enthusiastic guessing game of what Chenle brought Woobin back as a souvenir from Milan.

“Yeah.” You nodded. Raising your voice slightly to address the others, you announced, “Alright, guys, we’re heading out. Binnie, Daddy and I will be back after you’re asleep, okay?”

“Goodbye and goodnight!” He darted over as you and Sungchan knelt down to each give him a hug, and two more kisses—one for goodbye, and another for his goodnight kiss, since you wouldn’t be putting him to bed. Really, when you came home, you two always checked on him and gave him one last peck goodnight then, but he of course didn’t know that.

The award for Literary Theory Journal Editor of the Year had barely been placed in Ten’s hands when you saw Sungchan’s phone light up in his lap out of the corner of your eye. He squeezed your shoulder in a silent ‘be right back’ before standing from your table and quietly slipping out of the ballroom. You kept your eyes on Ten as he gave a short and charismatic acceptance speech, clapping when everyone else did, though you stayed keenly aware of the empty seat next to you. Your friend got his picture taken and shook lots of hands on his way back to your table, and your colleagues at your table all rose to greet him when he finally returned.

“Congrats, Ten,” you hugged him, your eyes straying over his shoulder to the door that Sungchan had left through.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he patted your back, pulling away still with a wide grin. “I saw Sungchan get up, is everything alright?”

You waved off his concerns for now. “Chenle probably set off the smoke alarm or something.”

Sungchan returned just a moment later, staving off his clearly concerned face for long enough to give Ten his congrats as well.

“You missed my hilarious acceptance speech, Sungchan,” Ten clicked his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“Damn, maybe next year.”

“Ooh, you think I’ll win next year too?”

“Why not?” Sungchan shrugged. “I don’t know how all the other editors could suddenly get better than you in a year.”

“Great point.”

The awards had continued, and everyone took their seats, though your focus was only on Sungchan and whatever that call was about. He leaned over to inform you quietly, “That was Chenle. SOS for buddy’s bedtime, sounds like the same as naptime.”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“I’ll get the car,” he murmured before giving your shoulder a fleeting touch and leaving your table.

You turned to Ten to give him a real reason behind your sudden departure. “Hey, that was Chenle, and Woobin is—”

“It’s all good,” your friend cut you off with a smile, patting your arm. “Go be good parents, you’ve already been good friends. Promise.”

“Thanks.” You could feel the relieved smile on your face. “Congrats again, Ten.”

After giving your hushed goodbyes to the rest of your colleagues, you hurried out of the ballroom. Sungchan didn’t complain about the anxious death grip you had on his hand the entire ride home, simply smoothing his thumb over your knuckles as the fingers of his other hand tapped out impatient rhythms on the steering wheel at every red light you got stuck at.

Finally, you arrived home, and you didn’t even have to go searching for Woobin and Chenle, as you were barely in your foyer and Sungchan hadn’t even had the chance to finish locking the front door behind him when a small form came running in, barreling into your legs. Chenle was a few steps behind your son, entering right after him. Woobin was blubbering and sobbing against you, beyond the point of any sort of intelligible speech. You sighed forlornly and rested a hand on his head, feeling your heart break as you looked down at him, not knowing how to help him.

Sungchan immediately took your purse from your other hand, rubbing your back briefly as he passed by. As he and Chenle went to talk in the living room, you hooked your hands under your son’s arms and heaved him up onto your hip, carrying him into your room with you. You maneuvered to support him with one arm so you could take off your shoes with the other hand, tossing them in the vague direction of your closet door. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you readjusted him so that he was sitting in your lap, crying into your neck, and you gently stroked the back of his head as he shook in your arms.

“I’m right here, Binnie. I’ve got you. Mommy’s right here,” you told him softly, a hard lump growing in your throat. “You’re okay, my sweet. You’re okay. I promise, I’ve got you.”

Eventually, you heard Chenle and Sungchan’s hushed voices pass by, then the front door open and close. A couple minutes later, there was a soft knocking at your bedroom door.

“Hey, that’s Daddy,” you informed Woobin. “Is it okay if he comes in and stays with us too?”

Woobin nodded from where his face was still hidden in your neck. His sobs hadn’t stopped, and at this rate, you were worried he was going to make himself throw up with how much he was crying and hiccupping.

“Come in,” you called out.

Sungchan had already discarded his suit jacket and tie elsewhere, you realized as he slipped into the room. A pained look quickly took over his features as his eyes immediately found the two of you. He set the no-spill cup he’d brought in with him—Woobin’s favorite cartoon characters printed all around the outside—down on your nightstand as he sat down next to you.

“Hey, buddy, it’s me,” Sungchan said quietly. “I brought some water; I thought your throat might be hurting a little.”

You son let out a couple sniffles, as if contemplating this for the first time.

Your husband continued, “Do you think you can sit with me and drink some water while Mommy changes into her jammies?”

“I won’t leave the room, sweet,” you assured him. “I’ll be right here with you and Daddy.”

In lieu of a verbal response, he nodded again and loosened the vice-like grip he’d had around your neck, letting you shift him over into his dad’s arms. Before you could go run and do the fastest change of your life, Sungchan grabbed your hand, pulling you around to look at him. As you gazed down at him, with Woobin bawling inconsolably in his lap, the two of you exchanged a brief, unspoken moment of uncertainty, unknowing, of knowing that neither of you knew what to do for your son. Your hand was shaking—or maybe that was his—as you clutched each other tightly for just a second.

Then you had to let go of him to rush to change, and Sungchan tried to gently coax Woobin into taking a sip of water. You could hear him coaching your son through taking just one little sip at a time and not chugging, or he’d make himself sick. You, meanwhile, were throwing clothes into the general vicinity of where they needed to go as you pulled on new ones. The nice material now had snot and spit all over them, you were sure they’d need to be dry-cleaned anyway, so you didn’t care about the wrinkles they’d garner from being crumpled up on the floor for the night. You then rushed through taking out your hair and brushing your teeth, keeping the en suite bathroom door open all the while.

Back over with your husband and son, you saw that the task of sipping water had forced his crying to slow down considerably, and you took a deep breath to not pass on your stress back to your child. The last thing you needed to do was get him going again just because you were so worried. He also had his favorite stuffed animal tucked under his other arm, the only one that had survived from his infancy to now, a deer plushie. You didn’t even remember seeing Sungchan bring that in with him, your brain was so scrambled.

“Here, Binnie, Mommy’s back. I feel left out, I’m not the only one not in my jammies,” Sungchan joked, which didn’t even earn a giggle from your child as it normally would’ve. “You want to go back to Mommy and I’ll get changed?”

Woobin nodded, and Sungchan let you get into a more comfortable position up by the headboard before depositing your son into your arms. You could at least see some of his face from the new angle of him sitting sideways in your lap, and it was of course red, puffy, and covered in tears. Sungchan must have already cleaned up some of his snot, as you spotted several discarded tissues on the nightstand.

“Did Puck come to make sure you were okay, too?” You asked quietly, gently tapping one of the plushie’s soft antlers. Puck the Buck, as he had been so brilliantly named some time ago.

Another nod and a sniffle.

“That was nice of him.” You stroked the deer’s head. “Thank you, Puck.”

Woobin patted the deer’s head, too, and as you watched more tears fall down his cheeks, you pressed a long kiss to his hair, silently apologizing for not knowing how to fix it all right now. Sungchan came back from the bathroom just a moment later, scooting onto the bed from the other side.

“Okay, Binnie. What do you think? Do you want to watch an episode of your show?” He suggested. “Or Mommy can finish reading you Bisclavret? Or…”

As he tried to think of other options, you gave him a bewildered look over your son’s head at the fact that he apparently knew which Breton lai you were reading earlier. That was something to address later, though.

Woobin shook his head, though.

“No?” Sungchan said questioningly. “No to what? Do you want Mommy to read?”

Head shake.

“Do you want to watch an episode of your show?”

Head nod.

And so you, Woobin, Puck, and Sungchan all settled in under your covers to watch an episode of his favorite cartoon. Except you and Sungchan didn’t have a TV in your bedroom, and both of your laptops were charging across the house in your home office, so you all had to scoot in close to be able to see it on the much smaller screen of Sungchan’s phone. Puck took up a considerable amount of space when crowding around a phone to watch something, and from your vantage point mostly behind your son and the plushie, you couldn’t see a thing past the deer head and antlers, but you didn’t really care about catching up on the children’s cartoon. You were much more preoccupied with listening for Woobin’s sniffles to cease, and watching as his breathing evened out. He was still awake after one episode, but quiet, calm, and Sungchan went ahead and played the next one.

You gently rubbed his back, smiling to yourself when you heard his first yawn of the night. When his second came before the five-minute mark, you knew he wouldn’t last the whole episode. And sure enough, he was out before the halfway point. Sungchan turned his phone off and set it aside. The two of you were curled up on either side of your son, with Sungchan facing him and you.

Your husband reached a hand up, and you thought he was going to stroke Woobin’s hair, but he kept going and gently wiped a thumb under your eye instead, at the fresh tears that had just brimmed there. You placed your hand over his, turning your head just enough to leave a kiss on his palm.

You woke up early in the morning with a stress migraine. When you shuffled into the kitchen to get a glass of water, the stove clock read 3:03. You quickly chugged your first glass of water, then refilled it to take back with you. Walking through to your bathroom, you retrieved your bottle of rescue medication from your drawer. This one was a muscle relaxer, so you didn’t see any point in keeping it in your purse, as you weren’t able to drive after taking it, which you typically needed to do when you were out and about. You knocked back a tablet before screwing the lid back on and putting it away again. After taking a few more sips of your water, you slipped back under the covers with your family.

Your head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, but you still blearily opened one eye to look at your son, watching as his chest rose and fell peacefully. He was on his back now, and you couldn’t help but lay a hand on his front, feeling his even breaths under your palm. Sungchan’s foot tapped yours under the blanket briefly as he readjusted in his sleep, and you smiled to yourself. And then it happened again, and you peered over to the other pillow suspiciously.

In the low light, you could see Sungchan looking right at you. He pointed to his own head, then raised his eyebrows.

You lifted your hand in a ‘meh’ gesture, then held up 5 fingers to rate it out of 10, before setting your hand back down on Woobin’s front. Sungchan found your arm under the covers, gently squeezing your forearm. You tapped his foot in return, a silent exchange, before closing your eyes and settling back in to sleep.

Two hushed voices woke you up for the second time that morning. Well, one hushed voice, and one who hadn’t quite mastered whispering yet.

“What do you think Mommy—”

“Quiet, buddy, remember?” Sungchan’s words were barely discernible from behind the closed bathroom door. “Your mom’s got a migraine, and—”

“—and Mommy needs to sleep when she’s got a migraine,” Woobin finished dutifully, his voice a notch quieter than before. “So her head feels better.”

“That’s right, bud. Now come on, breakfast.”

“That’s what I—” Your son stopped himself as his voice raised with his excitement. He continued, in his best half-whisper, “Sorry, Daddy. I know: We gotta whisper. Quiet. I was asking what Mommy wants for breakfast?”

The two of them were quiet, and you heard the bathroom door open, then one pair of feet quietly tread across your room to open the bedroom, then shut it softly. You could hear their voices slowly fade as they walked further away.

“I don’t know. Why are you asking?”

“Because you always bring me breakfast in bed when I’m sick!” Woobin’s voice was back to it’s normal volume as he tried to emphatically get his point across to his dad. Sungchan must have gestured for him to quiet down again, as he dropped down to a part-whisper once more, “It’s Mommy’s turn.”

“You’re right. Let’s see what we can make…”

When you first got Woobin, you only got a migraine a couple times a year, a significant drop from when you were first diagnosed. The frequency fluctuated over the years and seasons, though, and there was a short period of time after becoming new parents, that you had been getting them weekly. You knew that put a strain on Sungchan, since a spouse with noise-sensitive migraines and a crying baby didn’t exactly mix. You of course would go through any migraine pain to take care of your son, but your husband couldn’t stand seeing you do it if it could be avoided. After some medication changes, you were fairly consistent with one every other month now. When Woobin was a toddler, and couldn’t quite grasp the concept of needing to play quietly when he wasn’t napping, Sungchan would take him on “field trips” while you rested. You’d decided to give him a simple explanation of a migraine to him when he was a little older, so he could easier differentiate between the migraines that you got, and when he might have a headache from a cold, or because his body was telling him he needed to drink some more water. He was also now your designated band-aid picker for your monthly injection, and had a better grasp on when, why, and how to keep quiet when you needed it.

Your head unfortunately still hurt, though your heart was warmed by your kind-hearted kid. There were lots of times where you and Sungchan felt like you had no clue what you were doing—like your current predicament with bedtime—but you figured you were doing a pretty alright job overall.

You contemplated getting up to take another dose. The only plans you had for today were a family trip to the park and some chores at home. Your husband would probably insist on you skipping the park for today, but if the second dose worked, you could probably get some things done around the house at least. Unfortunately, your days of laying in bed all day when you had a low-level migraine were long gone. If you could open your eyes, you usually had something that needed to get done.

But for this morning, at least, for now, you could close your eyes for just a little longer. You rolled over, away from the window where a thin strip of light had gotten in through a gap between your blackout curtains that Sungchan must have pulled closed.

You didn’t quite go back to sleep, but you dozed somewhere in between as you fondly listened to the sounds of Sungchan and Woobin trying to make breakfast as silently as possible. The running of the sink, sizzling of something on the stove, beep of the microwave before it was hastily shut off, fridge opening and closing, Sungchan’s quiet murmured directions to Woobin, and your son’s inquisitive tone in return.

Eventually, you heard someone shuffling up to your bedroom door, sounding much too small to be your husband. The door very slowly creaked open, and he tiptoed over to your side of the bed.

“Mommy?” His whisper had gotten better over the morning, though it didn’t matter much, since he was definitely right in front of your face.

You cracked open one eye, and offered him a soft smile. “Morning, buddy.”

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah, Binnie, I’m awake,” you chuckled, propping yourself up on one elbow and rubbing your eyes.

“Daddy and I made you breakfast, hold on!” And he darted back out of the room.

You looked at the empty doorway fondly, slowly pushing yourself up into a sitting position at the head of the bed. Sungchan and Woobin reappeared a moment later with a tray filled with various breakfast foods.

“Morning, beautiful,” Sungchan greeted you quietly, pecking the crown of your head as he went to set the tray down in your lap.

“Mm, morning, Channie,” you kissed his cheek before he could stand all the way back up. “This looks wonderful, thank you guys.”

In one corner of the tray you spotted a colorful assortment of pills, all of your morning doses plus what looked like a couple of your acute medications from your purse that was definitely in the dining room. You grabbed your water from the nightstand to get that out of the way first.

“We’ll let you eat in peace,” Sungchan declared, patting your son on the head to start to usher him out.

“No, it’s okay,” you stopped them. “It’s not so bad. I want you two to eat with me.”

Woobin’s face lit up, and he wasted no time in clambering up on the bed with you. You held the tray steady as he wedged himself in next to you.

“Alright, I’ll go get mine and buddy’s plates.”

Woobin was still earnestly pointing out each piece of food on your tray to you, explaining exactly how he had helped Sungchan prepare all of it when your husband returned. Sungchan sat down in front of you, and as he handed your son his plate, you noticed that there was nothing on it that could make too much of a mess if it happened to capsize.

“Sounds like you were a big help,” you praised your son, stroking the back of his head.

“He was,” Sungchan agreed. “Breakfast in bed was his idea.”

“Really?” You feigned surprise as Woobin nodded proudly. They didn’t need to know that you’d heard their entire bathroom conversation. “Thank you, sweet, it was a very good idea.”

After a very quiet breakfast, Sungchan took the plates into the kitchen, and you started making your mental list of tasks for the day. No vacuum—you weren’t a masochist—but there was laundry to do, and if Sungchan started the dishwasher before he left, it would be done and ready to put away before they got back from the park.

Just as you had put your feet over the edge of the bed to get up, with the bathroom as your destination, you were caught off-guard by Woobin trudging into your room with an armful of toys. He dropped them onto your mattress before hauling himself up after them.

“Hey…” You greeted him with an air of question. “What are you doing, Binnie?”

Sungchan must have spotted him on his way over, as he poked his head in right then, already laser-focused on your son. “What’s all this, bud?”

“We can’t go to the park,” he said matter-of-factly, beginning to sort out the toys that had gotten all mixed up in being carried over and dumped into a pile. “I’ll be quiet, promise!”

“I didn’t say we weren’t going at all,” Sungchan clarified. “I just said Mommy needed to stay home this time, because she’s not feeling well. You and I are still going. Minha and her dad are going to be there too.”

“I don’t want to go. I don’t like the park,” he declared, a stern pout creasing his face.

“What? You don’t like the park?” You asked.

“No,” he mumbled. “I hate it.”

You exchanged bewildered looks with Sungchan at this sudden development. Deciding to try again, you said calmly, “Binnie, I’ll go with you next time, okay? I promise. You have lots of fun at the park.”

“No. I don’t want to go.”

“Okay, no park,” Sungchan acquiesced. “But it’s such a nice day out, I think a walk sounds good. What do you think?”

“No.” He crossed his arms.

“Ah, you know, my head feels good enough for a walk,” you said brightly. “I think I’d like to go on a walk. Are you sure you don’t want to go, buddy?”

“Well… okay.”

“Alright,” you beamed at him, patting his cheek as he finally looked up at you. “Mommy’s got to shower then I’ll be ready to go.”

“How about you get out of your jammies too, Woobin?” Sungchan suggested.

“Go ahead, sweet,” you sent him off with one more pat.

Your son wordlessly got off the bed and left your room. As soon as he was gone, you look at Sungchan, utterly at a loss.

“What was that?” He whispered, following you into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you two.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“He loves the park! I mean, he loves going to the grocery store! He’s one of the most go-with-the-flow kids I’ve ever met!”

“He was obviously lying about hating the park. But why? His best friend’s going to be there, he’s been talking about it since we planned it at pickup on Friday.”

“You think it’s related to what’s been going with bedtime and naptime?” Sungchan paced in front of you. “I mean, what if it’s like separation anxiety? Or something?”

“But he loves you.”

“I know, I know.”

“He even went through that phase when he was a year old where he wouldn’t let me put him to sleep, it had to be you every time.”

“I know, I know.” He held his hands up. “I’m just saying… we might have hit a new phase.”

“But I could at least take him to the park without you. And he went to daycare. Now…”

“Hey, tomorrow, I’ll drop him off at school,” Sungchan said. “You know, so it’ll be gradual. The two of us at home, then just me, then he’s at school.”

“Channie, he wouldn’t let you take him to the park today.”

“I just think that if your choice is between leaving him crying at VPK or not, you’re going to be getting a new little TA in your classes tomorrow.”

You chewed on your bottom lip before sighing and nodding. “You’re right, you’re right. Okay, we’ll try your way tomorrow.”

“We’ll figure this out, hon,” he reassured you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hooking his chin over your shoulder. “But not right now in our bathroom while you’ve got a migraine.”

You hugged him back, burying your face in his neck and taking a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just worry about today right now.”

After your shower, you got dressed in peace and meandered out of your room to find Sungchan and Woobin by the front door. Woobin hadn’t quite mastered shoelaces, so your husband was helping him out. You slipped your own shoes on, and grabbed a pair of sunglasses on the table by the front door.

“Alright, ready?” Sungchan asked, having finished with your son’s shoes.

“Ready!” Binnie chirped.

You offered a thumbs-up, silently reaching to unlock your front door. Woobin went out first, eagerly bounding down the steps of your front porch. You followed after him onto the sidewalk as you listened to Sungchan lock up behind you, then catch up to the two of you with just a few large strides. The sun outside was painfully bright, even with your sunglasses on, and as you held up one hand to cast a shadow over your eyes, you reached your other out to grab Sungchan’s hand. He held yours firmly, even as you squinted and winced against the light, nearly missing a step when you walked in a brighter patch between shadows of trees, keeping you upright and on the paved path.

Woobin was just a couple steps in front of you, seemingly having a great time. He was talking to himself, interspersed with some singing, and of course pointing out anything he found remotely interesting to the both of you.

“Snail!” He yelled out enthusiastically, pointing to said small creature on the ground.

“Cool, buddy,” Sungchan responded encouragingly.

“Worm!”

“I see. Careful, we don’t want to step on him. He’s using the sidewalk too.”

That made Woobin giggle, giving the worm a wide berth as he stepped around it. You stepped over it.

The boy suddenly gasped, and stopped in his tracks as he pointed to a flower in one of your neighbors’ gardens. “Butterfly! Mommy, do you see it?”

You squinted in the direction he was pointing, finally seeing which one he was indicating. A dark butterfly on a bright yellow flower. “Yeah, Binnie, I see it. That’s a swallowtail butterfly.”

“Swallowtail butterfly,” he repeated, slowly to make sure he was pronouncing it right.

“That’s right.” You patted his head with your free hand.

“What other kinds of butterflies are there?” He asked as you continued your walk.

“Oh, lots,” you mused. “Your dad might know a butterfly expert, you know.”

He looked up at Sungchan with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Yeah, Dr. Hwang, one of my co-workers, she’s an entomologist.”

Your son furrowed his brows in concentration. “Entee— enah— innamolologiss.”

“Come on, let’s sound it out, bud: En,” Sungchan talked him through it. Despite his earlier teasing of you reading Breton lai to your son, your husband was just as much to blame for Woobin’s inflated vocabulary, always taking the time to teach him lengthy scientific terms for things.

“En.”

“Tah.”

“Tah.”

“Mol.”

“Mol.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

“Gist.”

“Gist.”

“Entah.”

“Entah.”

“Molo.”

“Molo.”

“Gist.”

“Gist.”

“Entomologist.”

“Enamolgist.”

“Yeah!” Your husband beamed, holding up his hand for a high five.

“What’s an enamolgist?” Woobin asked.

“A scientist that studies bugs. Like butterflies.”

“Butterflies aren’t bugs!” He insisted.

“They are.”

“But how can they be bugs? They’re butterflies!”

Sungchan laughed. “When you meet Dr. Hwang, you can ask her and she’ll explain it. She can also tell you all about all sorts of butterflies. Okay?”

“Your dad studies fish, remember?” You added. “Way different than bugs and butterflies.”

“And you study books!” Woobin said. “And stories! And reading! And writing!”

“That’s right.” You chuckled fondly. “Way, way different than bugs or butterflies or fish.”

By the time you got back to your house, you could barely open one eye enough to navigate the steps and get through the front door. It felt like you were being stabbed in your left eye, the pain shooting back through the entire left side of your head, and you patted Sungchan’s arm before wordlessly heading off towards your room. You beelined for your bathroom, knocking back another dose of the rescue medication you had in there.

As you clutched your eye with one hand and gripped the bathroom counter tightly with the other, the door was pushed ajar. You quickly went to drop your hand and throw on a smile, then saw it was Sungchan, who put another tablet into your hand, your second rescue medication in the dining room.

“Thanks, baby,” you mumbled, taking that one as well.

He sighed, but said nothing else as he rested a hand on your back. You covered both of your eyes as you turned into his chest, feeling when your fingers quickly turned moist. You took deep, shaking, quiet breaths. One of Sungchan’s hands cradled the back of your head while the other slowly rubbed up and down your back.

“Eye mask?” He murmured, referring to the cooling eye mask you kept in the fridge to help with migraine pain. It could also be microwaved if you wanted it warm instead.

“What’s Binnie doing?” You sniffed.

“Picking a movie for me and him. You’re going to lay down. Do you want your eye mask?”

“Yes, please.”

And so Sungchan grabbed the mask from the fridge for you as you crawled back into bed, handing you your earplugs from your nightstand drawer first.

You tried to refuse, eyes drifting towards your bedroom door. “No, but—”

“I’ve got him, hon.” He opened the case and pushed the earplugs into your hand. “You’ve done plenty, Supermom. Okay?”

You nodded slowly, pushing the earplugs in one at a time. He helped you adjust the eye mask, then pulled the covers up over you. You felt as he stood up from the bed and gave one final pat to your arm.

You woke up to find that the medication and nap had taken the edge off the migraine, at least. There was still a dull ache in your head, and you felt like shit, but it wasn’t the worst that you’d ever felt. You pulled the room-temperature mask off your face and set it on your nightstand before rolling over, fully intending on burying your face in your pillow and going back to sleep if you could.

You weren’t expecting to see Sungchan lying next to you on top of the covers, hand tucked under his cheek. His eyes were open, watching you.

“Hi, Channie,” you said quietly, taking your earplugs out and setting those aside as well.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, voice barely above a murmur.

“I’m alright. Still hurts, but not as bad,” you replied, reaching a hand out towards him. He grasped it, gentle but steadfast. “Where’s Binnie? Down for his nap?”

“Snacktime. I called in backup, though, my dad’s here.”

“I’m—” You stopped yourself before you could apologize, biting down on your lip before mustering up a smile. “Thank you. For taking care of me and buddy today. More than you usually do.”

“I wish I could’ve done more for you, baby,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

“You were making sure our son was okay. He can’t use the microwave, I can manage my ten-thousandth migraine on my own.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.”

“It’s not your fault,” you insisted. “You’ve been Superdad and Superhusband today. So relax, okay?”

“Alright.”

“How long is your dad staying?”

“He brought ingredients to make dinner. My mom’s coming when she gets off her shift.”

You smiled fondly at your in-laws’ kindness, and lifted the blankets up. “Five more minutes?”

Sungchan joined you under the covers, immediately wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. You held him close, savoring his familiar warmth and the comforting pressure of him laying practically on top of you. You curled your fingers in his hair, resting your cheek against the crown of his head.

“Ten,” he mumbled against your skin. “Ten more minutes.”

“Hey Professor, mind if we hang out in here?” A familiar pair of heads had poked into your office, two freshmen Raptors players who definitely weren’t in any of your classes this semester.

“Is there somewhere you should be?” You asked, gesturing to the couch across from you nevertheless. It made no difference to you if two adults decided to skip their college classes, you were more-so just curious. “It’s a bit early to be getting to campus if you don’t have a class…”

“Well, we usually have Coach Jung’s class right now, but he just sent out an email cancelling,” the left wing explained, dropping into one corner as his friend splayed out across the remaining two-thirds.

“And our next class is in this building, so we thought we’d see if you were in,” the right wing finished.

“What class do you have in this building?” You tried to keep a casual tone as you checked your phone for any missed calls or text from Sungchan that would clue you into why he’s suddenly missed his class this morning.

As they proceeded to rant about the 2000-level Grammar class they had signed up for in order to fulfill their Gen Ed requirements, mistakenly thinking it would be easy since it was only a 2000-level, you sent a quick text to your husband.

[you: just checking in. did drop-off go okay?]

Woobin once again slept in yours and Sungchan’s room last night, and though he was a little confused at his dad taking him to school today since you usually dropped him off on Mondays, there was no meltdown when you gave him his goodbye kiss. So far so good, until now.

“What classes are you teaching in the fall, Professor?” The left wing asked you.

“Oh, uh, I’ve got Lit Theory, Direct Study, and I’m teaching a Special Topics section in Contemporary Short Stories. We’ll mostly be focusing on magical realism, surrealism, that sort of thing,” you started rambling, still half-focused on your dark phone screen, waiting for it to light up with Sungchan’s reply. “I know neither of you are Lang majors, but it’s my first Special Topics class and I enjoyed having both of you last semester, so if you have a free slot in the fall, I’d appreciate it if you considered enrolling.”

“Hell yeah, that sounds cool,” the right wing grinned. “Is it going to be like, a bunch of essays, though?”

“There will be a final paper, but it will be mostly Socratic discussion, and the occasional short, one-page synthesis assignment,” you clarified. “No tests, no quizzes. As long as you read and participate enthusiastically, you’ll pass.”

“We’ll be there!” The left wing promised. “We loved your intro class. You’re like, one of the coolest professors ever, that’s why we asked.”

“I’m honored, boys, thanks,” you laughed.

“Coach Jung is cool too,” said the right wing, then he exchanged a mischievous grin with his friend. “But you’re cooler.”

“Oh, I’ve known that for quite some time, I assure you.”

“How long have you two been together?” The left wing asked curiously.

You twisted your wedding ring contemplatively. “Let’s see… We’ve been married for seven years, we started dating our senior year of undergrad, so… fifteen years? Yeah, it’ll be fifteen years this fall.”

“Wow. I didn’t even think you were that old.”

“What? Fifteen?” You chuckled, eyes straying to the picture on your desk of you, Sungchan, and Woobin from the party you held to celebrate his adoption being finalized.

“I mean, like, old enough to have been in college fifteen years ago.”

“Surprise.”

“So you met in senior year—”

“No,” you shook your head. “That’s when we started dating. We met freshman year. First day of classes, actually, if I’m remembering correctly. In one of Dr. Son’s classes, so that tells you how long he’s been teaching.”

“Wow, he needs to retire,” the right wing snorted. “And I mean that with his best intentions at heart.”

“Why are you two so interested in me and Coach Jung all of a sudden?” You questioned, tilting your head and folding your hands over your lap.

“Well, we see you and Coach Jung and our MVP all the time but, you know, we don’t know a lot about you, outside your jobs,” the left wing shrugged. “You two seem cool, you know?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again. “Where are you guys from?”

As they informed you that they were both from the same small town about five hours away, you nodded in understanding. Freshmen that hadn’t seen their parents since the holidays, a break that was only made even shorter by their being on the hockey team.

“You two are more than welcome to pop into my office whenever you happen to see me in here,” you reassured them. “And talk to me about whatever you want.”

By the time the players had left to go to class, you still hadn’t heard back from Sungchan, and you had your own class to teach. It was your Direct Study, which usually met in your office anyway since it was just two students. The conversation in this one was student-led, so as they evaluated what they thought the developing themes in the book were, bouncing ideas off each other, you tried to listen and engage earnestly, even as you stayed painfully aware of the lack of response from your husband.

You never forced them to stay for the entire block of time allotted for the class if the conversation didn’t need it, so when they were about done only forty-five minutes into the hour and a half block, you gave them the next chunk of the reading to do before next week, and bid them farewell. Then immediately left your office.

The Science building was across from the Lang building, and you headed for Sungchan's office first. If he was teaching a class right now, you knew it would be an Intro class and, therefore, most likely in one of the large lecture halls on the first floor, but you weren’t going to interrupt his lecture because he hadn’t replied to your message. You just wanted to check to see if he'd made it to campus yet. His office was on the second floor, past some of the teaching laboratories.

When you tested the door handle, you found it unlocked, and pushed it open. His desk lamp was on, illuminating the pictures he had there: one from your wedding day, another of the three of you from a hockey game, decked out in blue and orange Raptors gear, and a third of just you and Woobin from when he was a baby, the exact occasion you couldn’t pin down. He wasn’t in the office, but his backpack was on his desk chair, so he had at least made it to campus.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you looked to see that it was Sungchan calling.

“Hey, Channie,” you answered.

“Hi, hon,” he sounded a little out of breath. “Where are you?”

“Uhm, I’m actually at your office. I got worried…” You admitted.

“Oh, okay. We went to your office but couldn’t find you. Stay put, we’ll come to you.”

“Okay—Wait, ‘we?’”

“Yeah, uh, buddy’s with me,” he sighed shortly. “We'll be there in just a sec, okay? Bye, love you.”

And he hung up.

When Sungchan’s office door opened a few minutes later, Woobin was, in fact, the first thing that came through, immediately running to wrap his arms around your legs. Sungchan stepped through the door a moment later, looking disheveled as he took your son’s small backpack off his shoulder and put it on one of the chairs across from his desk.

“Hey, Binnie,” you greeted your son brightly, despite your alarm and confusion, hugging him back tightly. The harrowed look on Sungchan’s face was enough to let you know that this was something for you two to talk about later.

“Mommy!” Woobin was practically buzzing with excitement. “Mommy, guess what!”

“What, buddy?”

“Daddy said I can meet an enamolgist today!”

“Wow! That’s awesome,” you patted his head. “Did he say when Dr. Hwang was available?”

“I was just about to call her,” Sungchan answered. “We wanted to find you first, hon.”

“I saw some cool posters in the hall, Binnie,” you let go of your son and offered him your hand. “Let’s go look at those while your dad makes his call, okay?”

“Okay!” He took your hand and let you guide him out into the hall, shutting the office door behind you.

The first one you found was a diagram of a wetland ecosystem, taller than your head, and spanned the entire wall between two offices.

“I can’t see it,” Woobin craned his neck to look at the poster. “Can you pick me up, please?”

You hoisted him up by his underarms and onto your hip. “Is that better?”

“Thank you!” He then pointed to an animal. “What’s that?”

“Here, it’s labeled. Do you see?” You showed him the black line connecting the animal to its common name and scientific name. “Can you read that first one?”

“Spotted… sal… uh… man… der?”

“Spotted salamander, good!” You confirmed.

“So this one is a…” he pointed to another animal, following the line to its name. “Green… ana… con… da. Green anaconda!”

“That’s right, Binnie.”

The two of you were still on that same poster sounding out animal names, when Sungchan poked his head out from his office just a few doors down. Woobin was in the middle of a name, so you indicated to your husband to wait a moment before listening to the boy continue to sound it out. Sungchan walked over to join the two of you as Woobin had just finished his first attempt at the bird’s name.

“That was a good guess, it does look like the words ‘her’ and ‘on,’” you said. “But the animal is pronounced heron.”

“Hair-in,” he echoed slowly.

“You got it. Can you put it together now?”

“Great blue heron.”

“Good job, buddy,” Sungchan praised him.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, buddy.”

“Did you get a hold of Dr. Hwang?” You asked.

“Yes, she’s in her office right now and has some spare time.”

“Yay!” Your son cheered, starting to wriggle out of your grip.

The three of you trekked to the third floor to get to Dr. Hwang’s office. Dr. Hwang was an older woman who welcomed you in warmly.

“Daddy says butterflies are bugs,” Woobin said very seriously. “Is that true?”

Dr. Hwang looked at Sungchan very judgmentally, before turning her attention down to your son. “Butterflies are insects, yes.”

“But how? They’re butterflies!”

“They’re just one kind of insect,” she explained patiently. “What’s your favorite fruit?”

“Mm… Grapes!”

“Are grapes fruit?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And fruit is food, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Grapes are a type of fruit, and fruits are a type of food. Does that make sense so far?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s the same thing with butterflies. Butterflies are a type of insect, and insects are a type of animal.”

He seemed to think very hard about this for a moment, then nodded satisfactorily. “How many kinds of butterflies are there?”

“There are about 180,000 different species of butterflies and moths. That we know about.”

His eyes practically bulged out of his head. “Woah…”

“Would you like to see some?”

“Can I?” He then looked back at you and Sungchan. “Please? Can I?”

“Of course, buddy,” Sungchan smiled, then looked up at his colleague. “If it’s alright with you, Dr. Hwang, my wife and I are going to step out for a moment.”

She waved you off. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Thank you,” you nodded to her gratefully. Patting your son’s head, you informed him, “Daddy and I will be right back, buddy.”

As Dr. Hwang directed Woobin’s attention to a book, you and Sungchan stepped out into the hall, shutting the door behind you quietly.

“What happened?” You asked him fervently.

Sungchan pulled you a little further down the hall, keeping his voice low when he finally spoke. “He was doing fine until we got into his classroom. Got his arms around my neck, wouldn’t let go… Kid’s strong for a five-year-old.”

“Two of your students ended up in my office after you cancelled class.”

“Yeah, I stayed for the first thirty minutes, to try to ease him into it, but then when I tried to leave again, the same thing happened except worse… Kept asking for you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It was too much of a distraction, we had to leave. He didn’t stop crying until I told him we were going to see you.”

You nodded in understanding, not upset with Sungchan in the slightest. If you’d been in his position, you probably would’ve done the same thing, if not, gave in even sooner.

“Do you think…” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Do you think we should take him to see someone? See if it’s a phase or… something more serious? I mean, even if it is a phase, he’s clearly getting really upset about something…”

“Yeah, I think that’d be a good idea,” Sungchan agreed.

Dr. Kwon Hayoung was a younger woman, definitely no older than yourself and Sungchan if you had to guess, her posture relaxed as she sat in her mustard yellow armchair. Her entire office was colorful, filled with various toys, whimsical artworks, and plush, patterned pillows on the couch that you were currently sitting on with your husband. After lots of research, various recommendations from friends and colleagues at work, and an entire two weeks of Woobin being attached at the hip to one of the two of you, you had finally settled on taking him to Dr. Kwon. After an initial interview with all three of you, then just you and Sungchan (a task that was aided by the fact that Sungchan’s father had come along and occupied him in the meantime), she then evaluated your son, which required several breaks for him to see you. But finally, she had finished with him, and he went back to play with his grandpa while Dr. Kwon brought you and Sungchan back once again.

“There is nothing serious for us to be concerned about,” Dr. Kwon declared, her tone calm.

You and Sungchan exchanged an uncertain look. You cleared your throat, “Uhm…”

“I don’t mean to downplay the problems that your family is facing right now,” the child psychologist promised, readjusting her lavender purple frames on the bridge of her nose. “However, Woobin is developing typically for kids his age, which is good news.”

“Then why is he…?” Sungchan trailed off, his question obvious. Why is he doing all of this? So suddenly?

“You have been very open about him being adopted.”

“Yeah, we never wanted to hide it from him,” you said. “He even gets two parties every year, his birthday party, and we celebrate the day his adoption went through.”

“But he knows that he’s our son and we love him,” Sungchan added, shifting forward as his voice carried a slight edge to it.

“Of course, of course he knows that.” Dr. Kwon’s tone hadn’t lost any of the gentle kindness she began the conversation with. “Both you and he told me about another kid, in his class, who was not so understanding.”

“Yeah, it made buddy a little upset, but he seemed fine by the next day.”

“I do think he was fine. Until he had a recent dream, about falling asleep in his bed and waking up in someone else’s home,” she informed you, and you felt a harsh twinge in your chest as you realized that your son hadn’t even told you about that. “He’s not afraid that you two will give him away so much as he’s afraid that somebody will come take him from you.”

“Oh…” You breathed out, feeling yourself grimace as you thought about how scared your son must have felt since then.

Sungchan reached over to hold one of your hands. “What can we do? What are our options?”

“We can work on his anxiety, coping skills, attachment in sessions. Since it’s affected your daily lives as a family so much, I recommend starting at three times a week, and we can adjust from there. I would like both of you to attend as many as possible.”

“Of course,” you nodded quickly, squeezing Sungchan’s hand tight.

That night, after helping Woobin brush his teeth with his toothbrush and toothpaste that had migrated into your bathroom, you took your nighttime medication, then tucked it back away into the childproofed medicine cabinet. Sungchan was doing some late-night grading in your home office, but you had a five-year-old to put to bed on time, so you had started on that without him.

Woobin clambered up into his place in the middle of the mattress first, and you lifted up the comforter and blankets to slip in next to him. With the thoughts of his nightmare still weighing heavily on your heart, you called out to him quietly, “Binnie? Can Mommy cuddle with you?”

“Of course, Mommy!” He chirped, immediately taking it upon himself to scramble over to you under the covers and wrap himself around your middle like a koala.

You laughed, enveloping him in your arms to hold him to you even tighter. Pressing a long kiss to the top of his head, you then tucked him under your chin. Yeah, this was exactly what you needed. You had his next appointments set up with Dr. Kwon, and she hadn’t told you to change anything you were doing yet. So tomorrow you’d continue your new routine of bringing your son to campus with you and passing him between you and Sungchan—usually whoever was in office hours had him, or if you were both in a class, whoever had the smaller class. You had tried dropping him off at your parents’ house once, but as soon as he realized that you were leaving without him, he wouldn’t let go of your leg, his eyes started watering, and you immediately folded. Preschool was a no-go, as he had a soft, indefinite ban for the foreseeable future until he was no longer going to be a disruption. They were continuing to hold his spot at no charge to you, at least. It had been stressful, and there hadn’t been very long stretches of time in the past two weeks where you had been apart from him, but there wasn’t once where you ever felt resentful towards your son himself, you realized. He’s what you did this all for.

“I love you, Binnie,” you murmured, kissing his hair again. “Love you so much.”

“I love you so much too, Mommy,” Woobin mumbled back sleepily, his words punctuated by a yawn.

You smiled fondly, listening as the sounds of his breathing evened out as he drifted off to sleep. Not much later, and your bedroom door slowly creaked open. Sungchan quietly went about his own nighttime routine before finally shutting the bathroom light off and closing the door behind him. You were a little confused when he walked over to your side of the bed, though, thinking your son’s sippy cup that was sitting there might’ve needed a last-minute refill. Then you felt him raise the sheets and start squeezing himself in behind you.

“You’re going to fall off, Channie,” you whispered, trying to bite back the giggles bubbling up in your chest.

“Then make some room, baby,” he responded, his quiet words even more hushed by the fact that he was pressing his face into your shoulder as he readjusted.

You gently scooted further in on the bed, trying to jostle the child attached to you as little as possible, not wanting to wake him so soon after he’d fallen asleep—if he woke up now, he’d definitely be awake for another three hours at least. Sungchan scooched with you, molding himself around you after you’d gotten settled in again, and burying his face in the back of your neck. He slung an arm over your waist, his hand finding one of yours where it was resting on Woobin’s back, slotting his fingers with yours.

After some time, when you were sure your son was deep asleep, Sungchan spoke again, “I had a student ask me what death of the author is.”

You craned your neck to try to look at his face out of the corner of your eye. “In your bio class?”

“Yeah, I thought it was weird too.”

“Are they… in one of my classes? And thought that you would know because we’re married? And knew that we’re married?” Obviously there were pictures of you, Sungchan, and your son in his office, but since classrooms and labs were shared spaces at the university, professors didn’t decorate or keep personal belongings in there. The average Intro to Bio student wouldn’t have any reason to know that you and Sungchan were married just from attending lecture.

“That was my first thought, too. Turns out he had you last semester.”

You scrunched your nose in confusion. “Then why…?”

“Apparently, in your class, he met this cute Lang major, but she didn’t seem too impressed with him. Thinks he’s a dumb jock.” Sungchan’s chest vibrated with his chuckle.

“Because he doesn’t know what death of the author is? Is he failing your bio class, perchance?”

“No.”

“Did she actually tell him she thought he was a dumb jock, or is he just assuming?” You asked pointedly.

“He seemed pretty convinced.” Your husband grinned and nudged you with his shoulder. “Sound familiar?”

“What are you—Oh my god, you think that sounds like us?” You rolled your eyes. “I did not think you were a dumb jock! I just… didn’t think about you really at all.”

“Ouch.” His pout was still very visible in the dim light of your bedroom.

“Not my fault you opted to pine for three years like a loser instead of talking to me.”

“Words hurt, you know.”

You shook your head. “So were you able to tell him what death of the author is?”

“No. But he’s apparently trying to read along from your Brit Lit I syllabus.”

“So that’s why you knew Bisclavret the other day. He won’t get very far on his own, even translated, Old English can be pretty awkward to get through,” you warned.

“Yeah… So do you have any study guides?” He batted his eyelashes at you, and you once again rolled your eyes.

“Seriously? You should tell him to talk to her like a person. He won’t get anywhere if he’s constantly thinking of both of them one-dimensionally. Him as the dumb jock, and her as the smart Lang major,” you scoffed. “Sound familiar?”

“That’s a no on the study guide?”

“The Internet exists. And you didn’t get me by making me swoon over your knowledge of Breton lais.”

“True.” He clicked his tongue in the back of his mouth. “I’ll ask him if she has any chronic illnesses to tend to.”

“You didn’t stay with me during the Halloween party as some elaborate scheme to get me to date you. At that point, you still thought you were friendzoned. If my memory serves me.” You pointed out.

He yawned and nuzzled his cheek against your shoulder. “Perhaps…”

“You stayed with me because you’re a good, sweet guy, always have been,” you continued, taking your hand that he had been holding back to reach behind you and poke his leg. “That’s how you got me.”

“Aw, you still know how to my heart flutter, baby. Even after fifteen years.”

You smiled to yourself as he kissed your shoulder. “Yeah, you’re easy.”

“And still know how to wound me with so few words.”

“I love you, too, Channie,” you chuckled softly, taking his hand again under the covers.

“Only this easy for my girl.” He murmured, dropping another kiss to your shoulder. “Love of my life.” Another kiss, this one on your cheek. “Can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“We’re already married,” you said humorously, wiggling your entwined left hands pointedly.

“So? I can only talk about spending the rest of our lives together before we sign the marriage papers? Can’t do it while we’re actually living that life together and raising our son?”

“Well when you put it like that…” You turned your head to catch his lips with yours in a soft, sweet kiss.

Sungchan hummed into the kiss, pecking the corner of your mouth when you pulled away.

“I love you, my Sungchannie,” you professed as you’d done thousands of times before, each time thinking that you could never be more in love with this man than you were in that moment, and yet each time it felt like your love had only grown exponentially since the last time you said it.

“I love you too. My girl,” he replied, resting his forehead against yours. You didn’t need him to speak to know what he was thinking. The two of you were going to get through this. Even though right now, you don’t know exactly how, you would.

➠ series masterlist | blog masterlist

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 2

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle* Mentions of sick loved ones, mutual pining, personal guilt, relationship turmoil. Summary: After only knowing Marcus for a brief time, you can already feel emotions beginning to build. Will that spell trouble for the relationship you've worked so hard to build with Sam, or will something else altogether begun to sow seeds of doubt? Notes: Once again I'm afraid I have to ask forgiveness in the edit of this chapter. I went away for a few days this week and ever since my chronic illness has been utterly kicking my ass. Hopefully I didn't miss too many errors here.

Game night will probably go down in the year's history as one of the best and most fun times that Marcus has had in a long time. He had laughed until his stomach hurt, his abs aching the next week for at least three days. He's gotten an open invitation back, but he doesn't know if that was a good thing, if he's honest with himself. His attraction to you is something that he's got to get ahold of if he's going to socialize with you more. It seems like everything about you just makes the heavens sing and the sun shine. It's crazy and he hates that, considering you are very happy in a relationship.

Eastern Market is his usual haunt on the weekend, preferring it to a generic grocery store, and he’s lost in thought enough that he doesn’t notice a familiar face at the florist’s stand across the way as he’s walking through the stalls. "Some peaches will be good." Marcus decides, looking through some of the fruits that have been trucked in from warmer states. "Peach smoothies." He decides, walking towards the gorgeous plump peaches on display.

If you were any other person in the world, it would be you who bumped into him and not the Secret Service agent contractually obligated to come along on your errands. As it is, when Agent Bailey defends you from being bumped into by the familiar figure of Marcus Pike, you’re the one who apologizes. “Oh! I’m so sorry, excuse u—Marcus?”

“Oh, hi!” Marcus shakes his head, reaching out and taking your arm. “I am so sorry. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” He apologizes. “Was focused on getting some peaches and didn’t notice anything or anyone, obviously.” He flushes slightly, feeling that pull towards you and hating that he looks like a jerk, or maybe just thoughtless, in front of you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

"Not at all." The flowers in your hands and the canvas shopping bags on your arm aren't harmed either, and you find yourself smiling much more brightly than you were even a second ago. "No harm done to me or to Agent Bailey, not to worry. Is it errand day for you, too?"

“Trying to eat healthier.” Marcus admits, slightly upset by the prospect but he figures that just comes with getting older. “Figured the produce here would be better than in a grocery store. Are these for the inn?” He asks, looking at the flowers in your hands and immediately reaches for them. “Let me help.”

"I thought my apartment could use some brightening up." He's seen the organized chaos that you live in and you're not embarrassed by it by any means, but there is a small sting to buying your own flowers just a few days before Valentine's Day. Sam isn't a flowers guy and that's perfectly fine, but you're definitely a flowers girl. When Marcus scoops them up without a second thought and stays by your side, you can feel your cheeks heat up. "I, um—thank you.

“Of course.” He huffs, as if newly made acquaintances should always scoop up flowers from you. “You chose brilliantly. They are gorgeous. Have you already paid for them?”

"Yes, so don't even try." It's just a playful warning that comes with a waggle of your finger, but you really have a feeling that he would try to pay for them if you hadn't.

He grumbles at that slightly. “Well, okay.” It’s almost pathetic that he takes note of what kind of flowers you like and he smirks. “So which flower is your favorite in this?” He asks.

"These," you point out a geometrically fascinating flower with petals that seem to spiral endlessly. "They're called camellias. We called them Winter Roses when I was growing up, but I've always loved them." The intimacy of the question goes straight over your head, just excited to have something pretty to split amongst the small vases in your little space.

“Camellias.” Marcus repeats the flower, filing away the information even though he shouldn’t use it. “They are beautiful.”

"Not everyone has them, so I tend to get my flowers here just to make sure they're in the mix." Barely aware that you're standing in the middle of a bustling market with people trying to move all around you, you have to shake away the warmth settling in you that is definitely not due to any kind of attraction. Nope. Not even a little. Not at all. "You, um..." you gesture to the next stall, where he was originally headed when the collision happened. "Peaches?"

“Peaches? Oh right, peaches.” Marcus laughs at himself and shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, I’m – I forgot.” He snorts. “I was thinking about fresh peach smoothies.”

"Ooooo, that sounds incredible." All of a sudden it's the best idea you've heard all day, and you grin mischievously. "It's not exactly standard, but the next time you're craving a sweet after having Indian take out? Make a peach smoothie. It's got that same vibe as a mango lassi but it's slightly sweeter, and it's the most refreshing thing ever."

“I was actually thinking about having Indian tonight.” Marcus admits with a grin. “To reward myself for eating healthier.”

"Best reward in the world." You agree easily. "I told myself I was going to cook tonight and make sure there were leftovers for another day this week, but I am teetering dangerously close to just calling for take-out as well."

"Well..." Marcus almost doesn't offer, because of the fact that you have a boyfriend, but he is truly meaning this as a friendly offer. "If we went to have Indian together, it wouldn't be as bad as ordering it as take out, would it?" He ventures, raising his brows in offer.

You should say no, You should absolutely say no. Not because the invitation is improper in any way — after all, he's a friend. But because of the way your heart bumps and skips at the offer like you hope he means it as more. He doesn't, and that is a good thing. In fact, Marcus and Sam got along fairly well at game night. But you can't help the way your cheeks burn pleasantly. "DuPont Circle?" You ask, confirming that he means he was intending to order from the same place you were. When he nods, you do too. "That sounds really nice."

"This way..." He's immensely happy you are agreeing to come to eat with him. "We can order the samosas and pakoras and not feel any guilt what so ever." He tells you, grinning at you.

"No guilt, but definitely extra time at the gym." His smile is dangerous, but apparently your self-preservation instincts aren't nearly as good as you think they are, because the only alarm bell going off in your head is the one that says Don't Let It Become a Date! which you just brush off. Surely that won't even be a possibility. It can't, because you and Sam have a good thing going. "Although, you're not masochistic enough to have my little brother as your biweekly gym buddy, so your trips are probably far less traumatic than mine," you offer with a laugh.

"Nope." Marcus chuckles. "I just torture myself by running around the Mall during my lunchbreaks instead of spending it in museums or at the food trucks." He snorts. "I just get to smell them just off the Mall."

"Have you lived in DC for three years without doing any of the food trucks out on the Mall?" That might be the most appalling thing you've ever heard in your life, and you nearly drop the peach that you had just picked up to add to your basket.

"Oh no." He laughs at that. "First six months I was here, I fucking lived off food trucks." He admits. "I was undercover and my contact checked in with me through the food trucks."

"Oh, thank God." The both of you laugh as you wipe imaginary sweat of your forehead as though it had made you nervous. "If you had never had Julia's Empanadas, I might have had to drag you down to the Mall right now."

"Then I wouldn't have room for Indian." Marcus groans, rolling his eyes at the thought of how many empanadas he would try to fit in his stomach if you went to Julia's Empanadas. "And I'm really craving Indian."

"I am too." Although, now you're going to be thinking about empanadas for ages. Maybe you'll have to try making some. "How has your week been?" Making small talk is easy with him, as you poke through the fruit bins to find peaches, apples, and pears to snack on this week.

"It's been alright." He shrugs slightly. "Depositions for a few upcoming cases. So I've had to revisit case files and work with the district attorney's office to make sure that there aren't any surprises."

"Paperwork and meetings," you nod in understanding. "I get that. Being my own boss is a hell of a lot more paperwork and meetings than I ever thought it would be."

"Ordering supplies, creating events to drum up interest. Balancing budgets." He nods. "I can imagine that it feels like it's hard to get a free moment for yourself."

The way you nod is tired but proud. Every ounce of hard work that you put into that inn is worthwhile, and you do it with straight shoulders and as much determination as you can possibly summon. "Today is my first day off in...two or three weeks? It's...a lot. But it's so worthwhile. And it means that Syd has her place, too. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"So how did you come to have the inn?" Marcus has been curious about that. "Was it always your dream? Or something you fell into?'

"I really, really liked throwing parties when I was younger." That's the easy way to start, as you both move to the line to pay for your bundles of fruit at this particular stall. "That grew up into loving to have guests over all the time. And then dreaming about running a hotel. So I took my sociology and history double major and got a job a hotel in Philly after college, putting myself through a hospitality degree while I started learning the ropes. It was a lot of years of working my way up, but eventually I got hired as the manager for the Inn at Jones Point under the old owners. They were struggling to keep up with new technology and losing clients because of it, and then..." Your eyes flick up to Marcus, almost apologizing for telling him the whole story. "We found out the reason Anita was having so much trouble learning the new technology was early-onset dementia alongside a sizeable brain tumor. I bought the inn from them when they made the decision that a comfortable end to her life was the most important thing they could do. Michael – Anita's husband – he comes around once a week for dinner and to check up on the place now that she's gone. He likes to keep an eye on it for her."

“That’s….” Marcus softens so much at the background story. “Beautiful. You are maintaining their legacy while adapting it to the new realities of time. Weathering time.”

"That farmhouse has been standing since the 1700s. We're just part of its legacy, not the other way around." The pair of you step up to be next in line, with Agent Bailey standing mere feet away managing to look imposing and nonchalant all at once. "The best part is that it could give Sydney her restaurant, and Juan a way to find himself in all the event planning. We didn't know what a team we'd be until we got going and now it's...it's just amazing."

“That’s incredible, and the fact that the place runs so smoothly is a testament to your hard work.” Marcus praises. He’s read some of the reviews and they are all positive, even the ones that had events beyond your control.

“That’s very kind of you.” Kind is an operative word for Marcus. As are sweet, funny, intelli— Nope, stop it, you’re getting dreamy again. Even the momentary distraction of having to pay for fruit is a welcome one if it gets your mind off that track.

Ouch. Kind is such a word that lands him in the friend zone. Which is where he has to be with you, but it still hurts. No longer edgy or cool like he was when he was in his old band. “What else do you need to get?” He asks, swinging his head around at the options available.

“I’m almost done actually.” It didn’t escape you that he flinched slightly when you were trying to be grateful and at least a little complimentary, and suddenly your stomach flips in fear that he might not like spending time with you are much as it seems. Or that you’d done something wrong. “I just wanted to get some fresh bread. But…I don’t know how much more you have to do.”

“Nothing.” He promises, shooting you a grin. “The least I can do is carrying things. Since you are saving me from a night of trying to cook.”

“Never learned to cook or just never got good at it?” There is a difference, after all, and it isn’t about want. Some people find cooking to be an incredible challenge. He gives you a look when you take your parcel of fruit from the vendor and accepts it on your behalf with thanks. Like a damn gentleman, you think with a pant in your chest.

“Never really had the time or the inclination.” He admits. “It’s hard to be enthusiastic about cooking for one, you know what I mean?”

“But that’s when you get to experiment!” Maybe it’s years of being friends with Sydney, whose world revolves around her tastebuds, but cooking has always been an outlet for you. It’s one of the only things you dislike about your apartment —the teeny tiny kitchen. “You can test out new things and weird combinations, and if it’s not great then the only person who knows is you. But if it’s awesome?” You grin up at him like you’re unveiling some kind of ultimate secret. “You become a rockstar at the next office potluck.”

Marcus chuckles. “I’m a rockstar anyway.” He jokes. “I’m the one who brings in the pizza and Chinese for the late nights in the office.”

“Okay, actually, that does count for a lot.” Walking in the direction of the bakery where you get all of your sweet treats and fresh bread, you readjust your shopping bag on your arm and try to glance around the place to survey your surroundings the way Agent Bailey has been teaching you. A comprehensive knowledge of your surroundings, she calls it. “I can’t really cook for my staff much when they have Sydney’s kitchen nearby, but I leave baked goods in the break room from time to time as a thank you. They work so hard.”

“There’s nothing better than snagging a muffin or a cookie when you’re rushing around.” Marcus agrees wisely.

“Or a slice of pizza.” It sounds like he works hard to keep his team in good spirits the same way you do, and you have to commend that in someone who works in such a dour field. Even art crimes — being less violent in nature, according to what you looked up the other night out of sheer curiosity — can’t possible be all sunshine and roses.

“Exactly.” He nods. “Sometimes we have all night surveillance or going through the evidence when something is time sensitive. My teams work better when they are well fed, and know how much they are appreciated.” He shrugs slightly, “everyone could benefit from know that every now and again.”

"Sometimes the weddings we run are just...they're insane. Or last year we had an entire family reunion take over the grounds for four very long days. I can't imagine it's half as stressful as what you deal with but the days can be really long and busy in their own right." For what it's worth, at least, you do love your job. And it's obvious that Marcus feels just as passionately about what he does.

“Oof.” He winces. “I bet the staff wanted to break out a bottle of bubbly when they were checked out.” Marcus jokes, chuckling slightly. “Yeah a lot of people don’t understand that when you love your job, the long hours are worth it.”

"Yeah." A tinge of regret breaks your smile, barely twitching in the corner of your mouth, and you barely nod. He can't possibly know what kind of a nerve he's hit — hell, you barely know yourself and you're the one feeling it. It just...it stings.

“Did I say something wrong?” He asks, immediately concerned when your smile seems almost sad.

"No." You reassure him much too quickly, and flinch in your own right when he looks skeptical. "It's just...not everyone thinks what I do is as worthwhile as, say, something like what you do. A—and that makes sense. Running an inn and upholding the law are—they're not the same. I'm not saying they are. It's just...that important to me. That's all."

“Whoever believes that is wrong.” Marcus insists wholeheartedly. “Running an inn is absolutely crucial. Maybe not to everyone, but to the people who need a little escape, a retreat to relax and revive themselves, your inn is a haven to them.” He is speaking passionately because he believes it. “When I’m out of town on a case, I hope that I can book a little inn. Something more personable than a Holiday Inn, so when I come back, it’s like a little slice of home.”

“I appreciate that. Really. It’s—I guess it’s a sore spot at the moment and I didn’t realize it. That’s all.” And you are absolutely not going to allow yourself to indulge in the image of Marcus coming back to the inn for you. Your place is not his ‘ little slice of home’. Even if you’re wondering what the would feel like if it was real.

“Well, you can always gripe and complain if you need to.” He promises.

“No, that’s—that’s not it.” It’s a little embarrassing, if you’re honest, but that’s only because you’re fighting being attracted to the man beside you. Otherwise you would just be chatting to a friend. “I just…don’t get to spend as much time with Sam as he would like. That’s all. Because we both have busy jobs.”

Marcus winces. “With the job he has, it would be hard unless you didn’t work.” He murmurs quietly. “But what counts is that you make the time you do have together special.”

“That’s what I said. Making the most of our time it’s what is most important.” The topic had come up again in conversation when you and Sam had talked about next steps — through the odd avenue of discussing your commute. His house to the inn isn’t a prohibitive drive, but it will warrant either having a lot of work done on your car or getting an upgrade. Right now you have no commute whatsoever, so you’re barely using your car outside of town.

“My favorite thing to do with my ex-wife was to curl up and watch a movie.” He admits. “Or work on a crossword together.”

“Those…” You laugh quietly, almost self-consciously, and shrug with the air of someone who is just about to give up. “Are the things I do with my good friend Agent Bailey, here. Though she kicks my ass at the Times Sunday crossword every single week.”

He rolls his eyes at himself. “I know it’s an old person’s activity, but I was normally exhausted from the academy.”

“Don’t you dare besmirch the Times Crossword.” A waggles finger and disapproving tsk seems to amuse him and it makes you smile, too. “That’s a mandatory topic of conversation at my mother’s dinner table.”

“Your mother enjoys the Times Crossword?” He asks, grinning at you. “She would get along with my parents. They have two subscriptions just so they can each do their own.”

“I’m keeping that in mind for Dad’s birthday this year.” It’s a brilliant idea. They would love to make a competition of it. It would be the highlight of their week.

“My parents got it as a wedding present and they enjoyed it so much, they kept it.” He tells you, smiling fondly at the memory of the two of them arguing playfully over their crosswords.

“That’s incredibly sweet.” There is a crowd at the bakery, as to be expected, so you and Marcus step into line to wait your turn. “I love the idea of being able to share small things with your partner. They’re every bit as important as the grand gestures, if not more.”

“Sometimes the smaller gestures are the most meaningful.” He admits with a grin. “I love cherry Danishes, and so did my ex. We would find these combo boxes of assorted and she would get the cherry one.”

“Giving up your favorite Danish flavor is not small.” An attempt at lightening the already light and sweet conversation is maybe…just trying to keep your own mind off of things. But that somehow doesn’t keep you from admitting the truth before you can stop yourself. “I have yet to meet the man I would give up my lemon poppyseed muffin for.”

“That’s only because you’ve never traded for a raspberry crumble muffin.” Marcus vows, smirking at the way you look stingy, even though he knows for a fact you aren’t.

“You’re on, Pike.” The smirk on his lips spreads to yours as effortlessly as breathing. “But lemon poppyseed is pretty impossible to unseat.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever had a raspberry crumble then.” He huffs, looking offended at the idea. “But I don’t think this place has them. I get them from a little bakery near the Bureau. I’ll have to bring you one.”

“I’ll get you a lemon poppyseed from the coffeeshop I go to in Old Town.” Even as its coming out of your mouth you know it sounds like flirting, but the fact is that you just feel so naturally comfortable with him. There is nothing flirtatious about muffins, you tell yourself. Nothing at all. “We can compare notes.”

“That sounds like a plan to me.” Marcus is extremely happy that you would like to make plans with him, any plans. Even if it’s just a friendly wager. “I’ll get the raspberry crumble. I say we each get two. And if you like the other one so much, you have to give up both.”

“Deal.” You put your hand out to him, willing to make a friendly bet on almost anything. That’s gotten you and your brother in trouble before, but this is harmless.

Marcus grins as he takes your hand, imagining that lightning bolts are shooting up his hand. Winking, he laughs, “just don’t be disappointed when you break that little rule of yours for me.” He boasts.

“We’ll see.” The tone of the thing really tries for teasing, but you end up so taken aback by the electricity in shaking his hand that you fluster — which is only compounded when you end up next in line and completely forget the word for ‘sourdough’ in the process.

“I, uh, I want-“ you seem completely out of it, and the bored looking boy behind the counter seems to be getting annoyed with you. “Can we have just a second?” Marcus asks, pulling you back and allowing another couple to go ahead of the two of you. “I’ve completely forgotten what I wanted.” He takes the blame, not wanting to embarrass you.

“Bread?” You manage to supply, feeling like a world class idiot for clamming up on something so routine. If being around him is going to be this big of a problem, you need to get yourself in order.

“Yeah, bread.” He nods, wrinkling his nose slightly. “What’s that type that I like?”

At this point he could mean him or he could mean you, or he could even just be speaking in theoreticals, but you have you head in straight enough again to blow out a breath and remember yourself. “Sourdough. I forgot the damn word for sourdough.”

“Thats it.” He snaps his fingers and looks back at the boy. “Could we get some sourdough bread?”

“Sure.” The kid looks at the both of you like you’ve gone insane but turns around to bag a loaf of freshly baked bread without a second thought for his strange customers.

Marcus pays for the bread, even with you huffing beside him and guides you towards the clearing. “That wasn’t that bad.”

“Only because you saved me from sputtering like an idiot.” It’s beside the point that he is also the reason you were sputtering in the first place. That doesn’t matter. It’s the fact that you couldn’t keep it together that bothers you. “Thanks for that.”

“Not at all.” He waves off your thanks. “Everyone has those moments.” He promises, smiling at you.

There is such a moment of relief when you exhale again that you have to make light of it or else you’re in danger of feeling far more grateful than is probably necessary, and that makes your chest ache in a dull and insistent kind of way. “That’s either very sweet of you or a complete placation, but either way I appreciate it.”

“No placation, I promise.” He crosses his finger over his heart and smiles at you. “Anywhere else?”

“That was the last thing for me.” Even though you have plans to have dinner with him that night you still can’t help feeling a little disappointed that the impromptu shopping trip has come to an end. “Unless you needed something else?”

“Well…” Marcus looks around, not wanting to let you leave just yet. “Maybe I could find a plant to kill?” He asks. “Something to brighten up my place?”

"Bit of a black thumb?" The excuse to not say goodbye yet is welcome, and you end up smiling more broadly than you mean to. "Let's see what we can do about that."

“More that I forget to set up someone to water my plants when I go out of town and they die miserable, thirsty deaths while I’m away.” He flashes you a guilty grin. “I’m a murderer.”

“Very rude of you to do to your plants.” The wholesome, straight-faced nod that you cry for cracks on a giggle, though, and you nod in the direction of an entirely different florist stand than the one you were at before. “What you need is a succulent.”

“That sounds a little dirty.” Marcus admits, not even realizes how flirtatious that sounds.

It does. And you didn’t mean for it to. You were just talking about the type of plant he could get. But then there’s that grin on his face and it’s so fucking puckish and * handsome* that you practically groan about how unfair the whole damn thing is. “Whoops?” You offer, obviously not apologetic in the least.

He snorts and winks at you again. “I don’t mind. Sometimes being a little dirty is a good thing.” It’s borderline inappropriate, so Marcus doesn’t say anything else.

“Sometimes it’s the fun of an otherwise boring day.” But since you’re genuinely afraid you might say too much if you go ahead with this line of thought, and since Agent Bailey is steadily avoiding your eyes like an older sister trying not to bear witness to your trouble making, you clear your throat and change the subject. “I think I snake plant would work for you. They’re really easy to care for and great for beginners or busy people.”

Marcus takes your lead and nods seriously. “I’ll take some advice. Any advice.” He shrugs slightly. “I wish I had the time for pets, but I don’t and it’s wrong to do that to them.”

“If I could have a dog, I would have a little corgi or a Yorkie in a heartbeat.” It comes with an almost wistful sigh, but you feel the same way he does. It would be cruel to the animal you’re supposed to be taking care of. “But since I have no concept of work-life balance? I have plants.”

“I’ll start with plants.” Marcus huffs. “If I can keep one alive? Maybe I’ll move on to cats? They are low maintenance.”

“Cats are fantastic. Sydney and Anna Leigh always had a couple when we were growing up and they can’t be the sweetest animals in the world.” There is a florist that specializes in succulents and potted plants further into the market and you head that way, chatting as you go. “I just always said I would want my kids to grow up with a puppy.”

“Puppy, a swing set in the yard and dinner together.” Marcus adds wistfully, having his own version of that same dream. “Every kid needs a puppy pal.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” And the knot in your stomach tells you that that isn’t a coincidence — that the future you’ve dreamt about probably lines up with the one he wants in so many different ways.

“We had my dog for nearly twenty years.” Marcus tells you. “He was my best friend and the best soul I’ve ever met.”

“I got Alex instead of a dog,” you giggle, silliness tinging the edge of his sweet nostalgia. “My little brother.”

“Isn’t a younger brother the same thing?” He asks with a grin.

“Very much so. And Alex is as much Golden Retriever as he is human.” If he were here, he’d give you so much grief for that comparison, but you stand by it. “What kind of dog did you have?”

Marcus chuckles. “A golden retriever.” He tells you without skipping a beat. “I’ve got a picture of him, wanna see?”

“Absolutely!” They say you’re either a kid person or a dog person, but you’re definitely both. Anything cute and squishy is right up your alley.

Digging out his wallet, it might be a little old fashioned to carry a physical photo of the favorite family pet, but he likes looking at it sometimes. He’s holding his dog, Hansel, in the picture. The white around the dog’s snout indicative of the older age of the golden retriever. “Here he is. Hansel.”

“What an angel!” If you could jump right through the photo and squeeze his beautiful face you would — the only problem is that you don’t know if you mean young Marcus or the dog.

“Wasn’t he?” Marcus hums happily. “He slept in my room growing up. Hated me leaving for college, although I hated being apart from him too.”

"How could you possibly leave that face? Look at him!" Yeah, it's definitely the dog that you're talking about. At least right now.

“Yeah.” He smiles down at the photo, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the canine face with happy memories flooding through him. “He was the best.”

"So would you want another Golden Retriever?" Looking between him and the photo, you think you might be able to guess the answer yourself. "Or will no other Golden ever live up to him?"

“Probably not.” Marcus shrugs. “He was from a litter of puppies at the shelter. It was just a coincidence that he was a pure Golden.” He frowns slightly. “I would want to adopt. It’s the best way to give a loving home to an animal.”

"Adopting is the only way." On that, you can firmly agree. But you point to the florist stand up ahead and touch his arm gently in an unconscious moment of casual comfort. "First, let's get you a plant to adopt."

“Yes, I would prefer adopted over nursery grown.” Marcus jokes, trying to ignore how easy it is to be with you. You can just be a friend. It’s possible and it’s possible he’s lying to himself.

"Wild, orphaned plants wandering the lonely roads with all their belongings tied up in a little bandana on a stick," you tease, conjuring the image of a cartoon orphan as best you can. To the girl behind the counter, you turn your full attention and the best conspiratorial smile you can conjure. "We're looking for something he'll have trouble killing," you confide with a chuckle. "Something like a snake plant, maybe? Or if you have a better recommendation we're all ears."

“It’s best to start them out with a plant before having pets or kids, isn’t it?” She asks with a grin, eyeing Marcus in amusement. “But he seems like the trustworthy type to me.”

"A fine, upstanding citizen if ever I saw one." The smirk you offer her is playful, and you glance up at Marcus beside you. "Plus, I'll be keeping an eye on the situation. For the good of the adoptee, of course."

“Of course.” She nods seriously, even though there is a definitely shaking to her voice, like she’s holding back laughter. “Let me show you the best options for a recovering black thumb.”

It's several minutes of back and forth with the florist who parries your playful banter well, and you end up leaving her stand with not just a lovely potted snake plant for Marcus, but an identical one for your apartment as well. "I had to!" You coo, when Marcus laughs at the little plant that you're cradling like a newborn. "It's so precious! And they're twins! I couldn't just leave it abandoned."

“Well, we have to name them.” Marcus decides. “Twin names.” He grins at you, “what do you think?”

"Luke and Leia," you joke right away, because that will always be the first pair of twins you think of in any situation. "Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum? Oh, do the creepy girls from The Shining have names?"

Considering The Shining was his first foray into horror when he was younger, it was also one of his favorites. "No, they were just called Grady Daughters one and two." He tells you. "But..." He whips out his phone. "They are Lisa and Louise Burns, in real life."

“So are the plants Grady and Burns, or Lisa and Louise?” Either way they’re exceedingly silly choices, and you’re going for it.

“Either one works for me.” Marcus laughs. “It depends on if the plants are male or female.” He jokes.

“I think we probably get to pick,” you joke right back, making a show of rolling your eyes at him even though you’re laughing.

“Hmmmmm.” He pretends to take a closer look at his plant. “I’m going to surprise you.” He decides. “My plant is female.”

“Oh, that’s no surprise to me.” The smirk you shoot back at him is probably the lightest and most carefree you r felt in ages, and just for the moment you’re not going to second guess it. You’re just going to revel in the moment. “All my plants are female.”

He snickers with you and then tilts his head. “Lisa or Louise for you?” He asks, before he answers. “I bet you want the name Louise. You’ll pretend it’s for Thelma and Louise.”

“I—how—” Staring at him in utter confusion does not help matters one bit, but you still don’t have any clue as to how he could possibly have guessed that about you after only having met you two whole times. “So?” You ask after a second, realizing you’re laughing with the absurdity.

You have the most beautiful laughs Marcus has ever heard, and he loves that he caused it. There’s a flash of guilt that comes with the thought and he decides to reel it back into the scope of reality. You are becoming a friend, nothing more. “Who wouldn’t?” He asks, still chuckling. “They were the greatest female duo in modern cinema. In my opinion.”

“They line up against Idgie and Ruth from Fried Green Tomatoes.” You’ll stand by that pairing until the day you die, but the way warmth is spreading through your chest and your fingers ache dully from wanting to reach out for him is a special, damning sort of agony. “And I will die on that hill.”

“I had completely forgotten about Idgie and Ruth.” He admits, hanging his head in shame. “Forgive me.”

“Just this once.” There is still a teasing grin on your face when your phone goes off in your pocket. Sam’s name splashed across your caller ID and guilt crawls through your veins immediately. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, glancing up at Marcus. “Just give me one second.”

Marcus catches a glimpse of the name and it’s like he’s doused with cold water. “Of course.” He murmurs politely, turning towards a little book stand to give you some privacy, beating himself up for flirting with another man’s significant other.

“Hey honey.” The second you pick up the phone with a plant in your other arm and your groceries weighing on your shoulder, that is the second you feel most self-conscious.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice comes over the line and he has a straightforward attitude, jumping into the reason for his call. “I’ve had a dinner invite tonight, some potential donors.” He tells you. “Can you make it?”

“I—” It’s not like it’s an unusual request. If he has a work event tonight then the best possible person he can have at his side is you. The idea of having dinner with Marcus had been so uplifting, and now cancelling on him makes you feel awful. But this is your boyfriend. “Yeah. Yeah, I can make it. Where and when? Is there a dress code?”

Sam rattles off the address and dress code. “Thanks honey, I knew I could count on you.” He tells you before he murmurs to someone else. “Hey, I’ve got to go, I love you.” The line clicks off immediately.

“I love you too.” It’s said to the silence, and you look down at your phone for a moment before pocketing it again. Marcus has stepped away to give you privacy, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other before walking back over to him. “I’m really sorry,” you murmur, actually looking as apologetic as you feel. “Can we postpone dinner tonight?”

“Oh….yeah, of course.” He hates the way the feels rejected, but you have priorities, ones that aren’t him. “That’s no problem at all.” He nods quickly and looks around. “Well, we should probably get your things to your car, right?”

“I—I’m really sorry.” Repeating it just makes you feel worse. But both of you feel worse, unbeknownst to you, and you walk in the direction of your car with Agent Bailey her usual two steps behind. “Something came up.”

“Not a problem at all.” Marcus promises you, plastering on a smile as you turn to him at your car. “I understand. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of things come up.”

"It was really nice to run into you today." There is no word of a lie or even exaggeration in that, and you take your flowers from Marcus's arms carefully, loading it into the backseat with your other bags and Louise the snake plant.

“Yeah, it was nice seeing you. Marcus holds up his plant. “Thanks for the help.” He hums. “Hopefully I won’t kill Thelma.”

"If you do, try to make it as spectacular as possible." Offering him a half smile, you realize that you just wish you could give him a big hug, but that would be totally out of line. So instead all you can think to do is shift your weight awkwardly again before opening your car door. "I'll see you around, Marcus."

“See ya.” He nods and turns around to walk to his car. He doesn’t turn around, knowing that it would look weird if he did.

Once you’re in the car with Agent Bailey and focused on getting back home to put everything away and make a cup of coffee before you have to start getting ready for the night, you sigh softly and sit back in your seat. You can feel the curiosity of the Secret Service agent beside you and you wonder if you look as guilty as you. “That was a nice surprise.”

“Yes.” Agent Bailey hums. “Special Agent Pike was quite a surprise.”

“He’s nice,” you defend, very aware that you’re defending yourself and not him.

“He’s very nice.” She agrees. “And exactly who he says he is.” Of course a background check had been done on the agent, which she was glad of now that he had popped back up on radar. Not quite sure what to make of the interaction at the market, it’s also not her place to judge it.

"Well, that's a comfort." The drive back to Alexandria won't take long, but you twist your hands around the steering wheel a few times before pulling out into traffic. "Unfortunately, tonight will be the opposite," you tell her with a dramatic sigh that cushions the blow of having to attend an impromptu event. "Sam asked me to come to a dinner party tonight. Last minute invitation, I guess somebody had a seat they needed filled and asked him."

“I see.” Now she has to find out where you are going to be, who is on the guest least and it means overtime tonight. She doesn’t sigh, but she wants to, much preferring to go to small Indian restaurant over some political function. “I’m sure it will be a lovely evening.”

"I know you have to vet everything." The process seems exhausting, but you would never question the agent's ability to get her job done. "It's a private party at Arthur Connesby's house. The aerospace tech guy? Apparently it's a party for his wife, but everybody invited are Sam's constituents. I have a feeling they're going to spend the night trying to pitch their own interests to him, but if nothing else they might donate to his next campaign if they feel like they got to be friendly with him." It sounds like it will be a fairly boring night of overly rich old men feeling self-important, but Sam asked you to be there and that's why you're going.

“Noted.” The agent is immediately firing off a text to her support team, letting them know about the change of plans tonight.

"I know it's not what we had in mind." The night has gone from staying home and watching a movie and maybe playing cards, to dinner out, to an entire party. It's a lot of jumps in not much time. "And I appreciate you being flexible. Truly."

“It’s my job to protect you no matter what.” She reminds you softly. She enjoys you, has gotten to know you and thinks you are lovely, but you are Hummingbird to her. The First Daughter of the President of the United States and her assignment. She would guard you regardless of what you were doing because it’s her job.

"Right." You nod slightly, eyes cast back out on the road, and try not to slump even a little as you drive. It's not necessary to be everyone's best friend. You know that on a practical level. Right now your energy is better served focusing on the night ahead. "Well, I can still be grateful. So thank you. For...being professional. An very good at your job."

She knows that you are disappointed, but one of the cardinal rules of the secret service is to not be emotionally attached to your assignment. It would be too difficult to make life or death decisions. “Protecting you has been my pleasure.” She promises.

"I appreciate that." For better or for worse, the Secret Service will be a part of your life for the rest of your life. So if you can't be friends, at least you can appreciate each other. For now, though, you ought to focus. A party with your boyfriend's constituents is no place to have your mind wander.

The dinner party is exactly what you imagined it would be. Self important people, boasting about how important they are as they fawn over ‘more’ important people. Or the people who could give them access to the power they wished to have. Sam was in his element, smiling and shaking hands. Listening to ideas with a feigned interest that comes naturally to politicians.

He's charismatic enough to keep their attention but has enough of his own heart left that he does seem to care about issues being brought to him. Unfortunately for these folks, they're talking about a whole lot of things that just one man can't change on their behalf. So all he can really do is listen and express interest in whatever plight it is they have.

You have found yourself in the rather unfortunate position of being inundated by the significant others of these men, and when the party turns to mingling after dinner they somehow manage to whisk you away to the garden where you aren't sure if they're planning on trying to get you to dance with various people, or maybe join their country clubs, You really can't tell which.

“You must tell me, how is living in the White House?” One asks you, under the impression that you are still living with your mother.

“I understand it’s very comfortable.” It’s almost a relief that these women seem not to know a thing about you beside who your mother is. Your greatest fear about the whole thing was being hounded through every day of your life — so far that hasn’t been the case. But it’s been barely more than a month. There’s time. “However, I chose not to reside there.”

“Oh, what a shame.” She hums, wondering why you wouldn’t want to call the most famous house in America home. “I hear that it’s haunted.”

“That is what they say.” And according to your little sister, it’s absolutely true. But an upscale party of relatively stuffy guests like this doesn’t seem like the place to spout tales of your sister taking her homework to the Lincoln bedroom. “And it’s certainly very beautiful.”

“I would love to take a tour sometime.” She tells you, hoping that you might offer to set it up for her. An intimate tour would be amazing.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” You aren’t the sort of person who would exchange favors, so the thought that this could mean a donation for Sam’s campaign in the near future. Instead, you just know it would be something nice. “I can have something put together for you if you like?”

“That would be lovely!” She exclaimed, sending you a warm smile. “You know, you and the congressman make a beautiful couple. Possibly even presidential one day.” It’s a fishing expedition, feeling you out for your thoughts on a possible run.

"Possibly." And two weeks ago, you might have beamed at that implication. At the idea of Sam moving through his career with such gusto and motivation that he makes it all the way to the White House. But seeing what your father contends with as First Gentleman, the idea of being First Lady sounds overwhelming to you. It's even less likely that you would end up in politics yourself. "Sam takes his work very seriously, and he has high hopes for the future of our country."

“And what about you?” She asks. “You made waves, positive ones in my opinion, during your mother’s campaign about your stance on soulmates.”

"I don't have any political ambitions for myself." Of that, you can absolutely assure her. "While I'm more than happy to support the people around me, I'm very happy with my own career."

“At least until Congressman Chase makes an honest woman out of you.” She hums. “Then it’s so hard to balance your own career while supporting the ambitions of your husband.” There’s a rueful chuckle on her part. “Believe me, I know.”

"I won't be giving up my career." This is always a topic of conversation amongst significant others, you've found, and a topic that your father has contended with on multiple occasions. As your mother's career grew, he became a stay-at-home-dad and raised three kids. Because it was something he wanted to do, not because it was forced on him. And that has always been the key to you. "I own a business. So it's essentially my first child already."

“Oh?” Her brows wing up in surprise. “My apologies. I must have misunderstood.” Her eyes slide past you. “Excuse me, I must go catch Mrs. Jackson before she leaves.” She cuts off the conversation and hustles away.

It's a bit on and definitely abrupt, but the conversation wasn't very enjoyable to begin with so you smile politely and just let it roll off your back. Whatever she 'misunderstood' doesn't really concern you. Some gossip article must have speculated on the next steps of your relationship with Sam and you try not to let that kind of nonsense get to you.

“Having fun?” Sam comes up to you, his hand slipping around your waist and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “You look amazing, especially since it was so last minute.”

"You always like this dress." The first time you wore it was the nominating party after the Democratic National Convention, and then again to a fundraiser in Chicago. That was the night you met Sam, and he had remarked even then that the dress was particularly beautiful. It seemed like the logical choice for tonight based on that alone. "It's a nice party." The food was predictable but tasty, and the drinks are flowing, just like the way you expected the night to go. "Do we think there will be birthday cake?" You ask conspiratorially, looking up at him beside you with a smirk. "Is that something people still do for fancy fiftieth birthdays?"

“Cake is universal.” Sam snorts and nods. “I have it on good authority the cake is a chocolate raspberry mascarpone cream cake.” He tells you, knowing it will be an idea you carry back to Sydney.

"I know exactly what Saturday's dessert special is going to be." Somehow your best friend will turn a classic cake into something elegant and thoughtful, and you know the entire restaurant will go nuts for it. They always do, when Sydney gets to show off. "Are you having a good night? I know you had high hopes for networking tonight."

“It’s going well.” He hums happily and beams at you. “How about you? Working the other side for me?” He teases playfully, aware you don’t usually like campaigning.

"Nothing that will get me in trouble with my Mom's staff." Not that he would ever ask you to do anything like that. Sam doesn't go in for most of the entitled bullshit that other politicians do. "One request for a White House tour that I'll put through the appropriate channels. Nothing too odd."

“Interesting.” Sam looks thoughtful. “Who asked for that?”

"Shelly D'Amario." The wife of District Attorney-turned-Superior Court Judge Raymond D'Amario was one of the few people you had recognized from press coverage of events supporting your mother's campaign. Her husband's politics were lined up with most moderate Democrats, and he tended to hand down verdicts with thoughtful conclusions at the end of each case. He's one of those people you wouldn't have minded at all sitting at this dinner party with, but unfortunately the Judge was not able to attend.

“Oh.” Sam nods. “I was at another dinner with her and the judge just the other night.” He tells you. “Picking his brain about Constitutional law.”

“She was very nice.” Though instinct takes over, and you chew on your bottom lip for a second before going on. “Did you guys talk…about me at all? About us, I mean? At your dinner?”

“Well, naturally you came up.” Sam admits with a slight frown, wondering if Shelly had somehow insulted you. “Not everyone is dating the daughter of the current sitting President. But I didn’t share any private details about you.” He promises. “Or your family.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that.” If he was the sort of person who went around sharing personal details with anyone and everyone, you wouldn’t have been able to trust him. Especially not under the condition you met in. Campaigns are cutthroat. “She just…said something that kind of confused me, that’s all.”

“What confused you?” He asks, trying to recall the exact details of the dinner with the judge and his wife.

Without wanting to imply that he might have said anything, you still glance around you to make sure that Agent Bailey is the only one close enough by to overhear you. “She seemed to be under the impression that I would be quitting my job if we ever have a family. And when I said that wasn’t the case, she said she must have ‘misunderstood’ something and walked away immediately.”

Understand dawns in his eyes and Sam shifts slightly. “Well, that’s not something we’ve talked about just yet.” He reminds you. “That’s a conversation we need to have.”

"Right." You couldn't agree more. "Which is why I was confused that she seemed to have heard an opinion about it somewhere before. But it was probably just some gossip article."

He hesitates and then decides to come clean, you don’t like liars. “I might have voice my hopes for our future.” He admits. “It’s not so unexpected, is it?” He asks. “I’ll be spending a lot of time at different events and I will want you by my side.”

"Sam..." There's disappointment in your voice that you don't bother to hide. Of course he's absolutely entitled to talk about hopes, as he puts it, but you can't believe that he would ever think you would give up the inn. "I own the place, honey. It's not like taking a smaller role in an office or shifting to part time somewhere."

“Yes, you own it.” Sam stresses. “But you can have someone else manage it.”

"But I don't want to have someone else manage it." It's really like you can't believe your ears. Sam has never voiced anything like this before within the dynamic of your relationship and he knows very well how proud you are of your work at the inn and how much it means to you.

By the set of your jaw and the frown on your face, Sam knows that he can’t argue the point right now. He shakes his head, smiling at you and taking your hand. “You’re right. I—I wasn’t thinking about how much you love your inn.” He admits softly. “Let’s just forget about it, hm?”

"O—okay." There he is again. Your understanding, supportive Sam smiling at you and taking the stress out of the situation. The man you started dating almost a year ago. Dependable. "Okay."

“Good.” He pats your hand gently and leans in to kiss you softly. “But I do still want to talk about moving in together.”

"After our date on Tuesday?" The Valentine's night you had settled on together is dinner at a small, family-owned restaurant in his hometown followed by a fundraiser screening of short films made by local high schoolers looking to update their school's resources with the proceeds. Community-oriented is the theme of the night.

“That sounds appropriate.” He agrees with a nod. “For now, let’s just enjoy the rest of the evening.” He looks towards your secret service agent. “Will you be allowed to come to my place tonight?”

"I think that can be arranged." The invitation means you'll be sleeping over at his place twice this week, which is definitely more than you've been able to do lately and maybe that's a good thing. Maybe you just need to refocus yourself. And stop thinking about Marcus, for fuck's sake. You slip your arm around Sam's waist and lean into his side. "I just have to let Bailey know. Her relief agent will have to be told to go to your place instead of mine."

"Of course." Even though it irritates him, he nods. Understanding that you cannot help it right now. After your mother's term, perhaps you will decline protection.

"I know it isn't perfect." He's bristled about lack of privacy before, and though you can't say that you really blame him? There's nothing you can do about it. Secret Service protect for the President's immediate family is mandatory. And hell, you have a Secret Service agent in your apartment every night. At least when you stay with Sam, your agent usually stays in the living room or their car like a stakeout. It's typically left up to them. But still, you do understand the objection. "I'm sorry. It is what it is."

"I know." He sighs softly, hating that the evening has been sidetracked from what he imagined. "I understand. I just don't like them be so close when we are alone." He admits.

"I know." The last five minutes have become increasingly uncomfortable, but you still stick close to Sam and continue smiling, aware that eyes at the party might be on you just like they are anytime you go anywhere outside of your little haven at the inn. "But better that, than someone breaking into your house."

He doesn't point out that he has a security system and his townhouse is in a gate community. There's no point and it would just further cause an discussion that is best left for the relative privacy of his bedroom - with a secret service agent parked outside in his living room. He sighs. "Shall we get more wine?" He asks, trying to change the subject.

"Sure." There are people starting to dance to the music being piped through outdoor speakers, but you're not really in a dancing mood. There's too much swirling around in your mind to be light on your feet. "Wine sounds like a good plan."

Sam leads you over to the bar, ever the gentleman and stands beside you to look at the drink selections. "They have a nice pinot grigio." He murmurs softly.

"Is that what you want too?" The bar is open, of course, but the catering company has allowed the bartender to put out a small and discreet tip jar for the reasonably large party tonight, and you have a few more bills in your purse that you're happy to add to the jar.

"I think I'm going to stick with the pinot noir." He tells you, holding up his almost empty glass.

You order both glasses without hesitation and tip the very pleasant bartender, handing Sam his glass after it's put on the bar top. Just something nice to get the night back on track. At least as far as the two of you go.

"So I think that we should drink our wine and then dance." Sam suggests. It would be a good visual and romantic as a bonus. He's not calculating, but he does understand that optics are important in politics. It's a good opportunity to romance you and look good for the discreet photographers that are roaming around.

"And at some point, eat cake." Trying to lighten the mood a little is really your go-to for diffusing tension in any situation, and the air around the two of you feels a little thick, so you offer him a big smile instead of getting serious again.

"Eating cake is always a good way to spend a night." Sam agrees, smiling back at you.

"Morning." You haul yourself into the restaurant's kitchen the next morning when you arrive bright and early for your eight-a.m. start time looking vaguely less drowsy than usual. The other member of your Secret Service detail — Agent Sisson — has music taste more in line with yours and you'd listened to Duran Duran on your way back to town this morning. That and a cup of strong coffee means that you're feeling okay but definitely in need of breakfast.

“Wellllllll,” Sydney’s grin is bright as she eyes you. “I see the walk of shame has taken on a festive air.” She teases, laughing as she moves over to pour you a cup of coffee. “I take it last night went well?”

“I have enough time to go upstairs and change before work,” you grumble, though you’re smiling and accept the cup of coffee gratefully. “Usual boring party, but I bring you home a new cake flavor combination to try, and it was nice to see Sam.”

She snorts. “Nice to see Sam.” She mimics. “It’s like you ran into him in the store.” She huffs at you. “This is your boyfriend. The man you love.”

“And that’s why it’s nice to see him more than just one measly night a week.” Given that you have a few minutes, you hop up on a stool at the counter beside her work station and groan in appreciation at the slice of sweet Italian brioche and carefully cut piece of frittata she plates up for you without hesitation. “Oh my god, thank you. All I’ve had so far is coffee. We overslept and both had to run out to get to work on time.”

“Overslept…” she rolls her eyes and rubs her stomach. “I wish I could remember what that was like.” She grumbles. “This one is giving me heartburn all the time and keeping my sleep short.”

“They just really want to make sure you remember they’re there,” you tease, picking up a forkful of frittata and not even caring what’s inside. Everything Syd makes it incredible. “Twenty-seven whole more weeks of this, Mama. Get excited!”

“I am, I promise. But the kid can let me sleep in a little, right?” She huffs playfully. “So how was the dinner? You came back from the market in a hurry so I didn’t get to talk to you. Did you forget about this or was it last minute?”

“It was last minute. He got a spontaneous invitation to a potential supporter’s wife’s birthday party.” Oh my god, spinach and artichoke frittata, so fucking good. “She got the gift of bragging rights that a Congressman and the First Daughter came to her party, and a very nice bottle of champagne.”

“Sounds like a ton of fun.” Sydney likes hobnobbing even less than you do, preferring to be on the service side of fancy events. “So you ate mildly bland catered food and drank way too much wine?”

“Exactly. Which is why this tastes even more incredible than usual.” You point at your plate even while scooping up another bite. “So did you and Juanito ever decide what you’re doing tomorrow? I know you scheduled yourself for the dinner rush, but you’ve got to do something.”

“My husband is amazing.” She promises, beaming in delight. “He actually got us reservations at St. Regis for the Valentine’s Day Afternoon Tea.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet! It’s so utterly romantic I could barf.” The momentary flash of jealousy is nothing, and you’re genuinely happy that they’ll be able to get out and do something. They work so incredibly hard and never complain for a second. “It’s perfect, Syd. I want a full report.”

“I’m excited.” She admits, biting her lip and fiddling with her practical silicone wedding band that she wears in the kitchen. “I’ve also been promised a very relaxing massage and a few orgasms.”

“All things which you deserve very much.” You raise your coffee cup in salute to her and grin.

“At the very least.” She huffs, her own grin one of pure happiness. “I am growing Badillo’s baby.” She reminds you, as if it isn’t common knowledge at this point. She’s so proud of being with her soulmate and she cock her head at you curiously. “Have you given any more thought to that tattoo?” She pries gently.

“Yes and no…” It’s much more yes than no, if you’re honest with yourself, but the fact is that it’s probably not good to think about it as much as you have. It’s like a never-ending loop in your mind and you absolutely can’t shake it. “I just don’t know what good it would do to bring it up. Or who I would even bring it up to.”

“You know who you should bring it up to.” She huffs.

“Who?” You challenge, feeling like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place without doing so much as being awake this morning. “My boyfriend of almost a year who asked me to move in with him and wants to start planning our future? Or the guy I barely know who invited me to dinner yesterday when I ran into him at Eastern Market and looked so hurt when I had to ask him to reschedule that I still feel like I kicked the world’s cutest puppy?” Clearly it’s been on your mind, and Syd is really the one person you can talk to about any of it. But admitting that you’ve been thinking about Marcus feels like cheating and you have always despised cheaters deeply. Being cheated on will do that to a person.

“You ran into Marcus?” Her eyes widen with the new information and she immediately sets down her spoon and walks around the counter to hug you. “Oh honey, talk to me. What happened?” She asks softly. While she might be pushing you to at least ask if you might be soulmates, she doesn’t want you to be upset.

“It wasn’t a big deal…we ran into each other and we finished our shopping together.” It’s such a relief to have a space to talk about it, and yet you know you’re blowing it out of proportion in your head. It was just a coincidence that you ran into him. Not fate. “We were both talking about wanting Indian for dinner so he asked if I wanted to go to the restaurant with him. We were just going to hang out. Then Sam called.”

“And of course you said yes to Sam.” Sydney doesn’t exactly approve of the way Sam seems to think that you wait for his call and will drop everything to accommodate him, but she doesn’t say anything. “How did Marcus take the change of plans?”

“He said he understood and that it was fine.” Which is, technically, what happened. So when you shift your eyes away from hers, Sydney makes a noise and you cave. “He seemed disappointed,” you admit, throwing up your hands. “But I’m probably just projecting that.”

“Anyone would be disappointed to not spend time with you.” Sydney defends immediately, always the best cheerleader for you. “Maybe text him and reschedule?” She suggests. “Friends have dinner, it’s not cheating. You aren’t going out on a date.”

“I know it’s not cheating.” Syd knows better than anyone why you hate liars and cheaters. “I texted him on my way in this morning to reschedule, but I don’t…I don’t know if he’ll respond. He was probably just being polite asking in the first place.”

“I doubt that.” Sydney had seen the covert looks that each one of them had given the other when they weren’t looking during game night. Both of them were curious and she is interested to know about that hummingbird tattoo, it’s not common, despite what you might say.

“Then it’s because I’m best friends with his friend’s soulmate,” you reason instead.

“No, it’s because Juan said that Marcus was trying to be polite but that he was interested in you.” Sydney tells you.

You feel the blood drain from your face shamefully fast, and your eyes dart up to meet your best friend’s. “He said that?”

“Yes.” She isn’t going to lie to you, Juan had told her that. “But, he also said that Marcus respects relationships and he’s not the type of man to make a move on you if you’re in a relationship.” She knows how you feel about that kind of thing and she agrees with you.

“Well…I mean…that’s good? Isn’t it? That just means he’s respectful.” Still , you find yourself sitting on the idea that Marcus likes you and being halfway between mortified and grinning. It feels ultimately childish and yet like your chest is filling full of something very much like joy.

“According to Juan, Marcus Pike is the best man, the best person that he’s ever known.” Sydney acknowledges with a nod, deciding not to comment on your giddy expression. “Even though he was busy with training at the academy, he was always helping with housework or running errands to take care of things.” She shrugs. “His ex-wife was a med student. So I guess she’s a doctor now.”

“It’s just a coincidence.” This mantra of yours is going to get old quick, but you have a partner. A long term one, even. One that until a week or so ago, you had thought you had a future with. Now that resolve is waning and you don’t really know how you started to question yourself so easily.

Sensing that you’ve dug your heels in, she backs off, giving a small shrug. “I’m sure it is.” She hums. “So what are your Valentine’s Day plans with Sam?” She asks. “Did he plan something romantic?”

“We’re going to dinner and then a community fundraiser in his district.” It doesn’t sound romantic, you will admit that, but anything too luxurious you did can be perceived in a very wrong way by the general public if it gets out. A Congressman and the First Daughter going to a spa getaway or the symphony would be seen as being out of touch with the people. “He…wants to talk about the future.”

“And you don’t sound like it’s a conversation that you are eager to have.” She sits down, her own herbal tea in front of her and she frowns slightly.

“I’m…not sure, honestly.” Without hesitation and without filter, the explanation about your conversation with Judge D’Amario’s wife and what Sam said at dinner with them comes tumbling out of your mouth and you can’t help but cringe to yourself when you get it all out in the open air. “Am I overreacting? Please tell me I’m overreacting.”

Sydney winces and gives you a small shrug. “He has known from the beginning that you aren’t the type to want to be a typical politician’s spouse and give up your career.” She reminds you. “Remember that night out in Alexandria? Where we were bar hopping? I had a very frank conversation with him about that.”

“You did?” Your forehead scrunches as you take a sip of coffee. “Then why would he think I would be willing to have someone else manage the inn?”

“I don’t know if I can answer that.” She admits quietly. “But I think he gave them his true ideal. You quitting and being by his side for all his accomplishments.”

“It’s not that I’m not proud of him.” Some would argue that that is what it signals, but you and Sydney are not those types of people. “He’s doing such good work, and I do want to have kids and a house and all that domestic stuff. I just…I don’t want to give up working. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life standing behind a podium waving politely. I’m—I want to be me, not an extension of my partner.”

“I know that.” She reaches out and takes your hand. “But does Sam? Really? I think that he can convince you that it’s what you want.” She huffs. “I know he’s a good guy, but is he the right guy?”

“Not everybody finds perfect,” you remind her quietly, knowing that that is exactly what she has with Juan. Their version of perfect is about support, respect, and unending silliness, and you’ve always craved the same. But there aren’t many men in the world like Juan. Not many at all.

“That doesn’t mean you need to settle.” She tells you, squeezing your hand gently. “If you are happy, I’m happy. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“To be honest?” Closing your eyes for a second to swallow a sigh, the best you can do is shake your head. “I didn’t think I was settling. But now I can’t help but wonder…”

“Then you owe it to yourself, and to Sam, to make sure before you commit any further.” She suggests, knowing that you would feel horrible about divorcing later on.

“How?” It’s an honest question, since the situation is tangled up in guesses and implied maybes. “Break up with Sam because Marcus might be my soulmate? What happens if I’m wrong and I regret the whole thing? Sam would never take me back and I would deserve it.”

“Ask Marcus to show you the tattoo.” She hums. “That’s not cheating. It would be no different than seeing him in swimming trunks.”

“If he ever responds to me.” Which you sort of doubt. You sort of did just drop plans with him the second your boyfriend called. But you are the kind of person who makes your relationship a priority. You always have been.

“And if he doesn’t….” She shrugs. “You just deal with that.” She frowns. “But I would be upset if you had done the same to me.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t have a right to be upset with me.” Marcus has a right to feel however he feels. He’s human, after all. “This whole thing is just so out of left field. Especially after spending all of last year talking about freedom of affection and being happy with a partner who isn’t your soulmate.”

“Except you had never potentially met your soulmate.” She pauses and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter, if you don’t want to pursue it, don’t. Juan won’t say anything and I’ll just encourage him to hang out with Marcus on a guys night.”

“I don’t know,” you admit honestly, poking at the remains of your breakfast with a frown. “First let’s see if he speaks to me again. I gotta go change my clothes for work.” A heavy blanket of tension works on you that wasn’t there when you came home, and you drag yourself off the stool with a swallowed sigh. “Thanks for breakfast, honey.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs, wishing for a moment that Juan hadn’t run into Marcus. Hadn’t mentioned a tattoo that was throwing you into a spin. “I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thank you.” Coming around the counter, you wrap your arms around her tightly and inhale, trying to remember your yoga and let the stress roll off your shoulders and not carry it into the work day. “And I’m always here for you. No matter what.”

“I know.” She grins into your shoulder. “You’re my best friend, bitch.” She teases. “I will go to war for you, bury bodies and not even think twice.”

"No hesitation." You link your pinkies together, the same way you have since you were little kids. "I really have to go change now. But thanks for listening to me ramble and fret."

“Anytime.” She scoffs, waving away your thanks. “You’ve listened to me plenty.” Lately it’s been about being a good mother and not completely wrecking Baby Badillo, but she understands the need to just vent. You’re there for one another, both of you, through thick and thin.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers

My Masterlist!

[callalillywrites]

Their Sweet Omega

So, this idea came expressly from this imagining and I'll admit I got a bit carried away by the idea. I really hope @thezombieprostitute doesn't mind that I took this idea and ran with it.

Part 2 / Series Masterlist

Relationship: Alpha!Jake Jensen / Beta!Pre-Serum!Steve Rogers / Omega!Reader

Rating: Pure Fluff

Word Count: ~2100

Summary: Jake and Steve have been searching for an Omega to call their own. Their luck hasn't been all that great until an Omega literally lands in their laps one day.

A/N: I have a lot more I want to add to this little universe, but I'll see how it goes I guess with everything else I've got going on at this point. I do hope you enjoy this little bit of fluff as it's my first ever A/B/O I've ever written. It's proofread but all mistakes are my own.

I also do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted on other sites or fed into an AI machine.

*****

Jake Jensen isn’t your typical Alpha, but he’s a good one according to Steve Rogers, his Beta. Jake isn’t built like other Alphas though he does have an understated strength to him that many overlook, but it’s his gentleness and anti-bullying policies that really made it easy for Steve to align himself and fall in love with Jake.

Steve isn’t always the greatest Beta. He can be headstrong and maybe a little bit reckless especially when he’s seeing something going down that shouldn’t.

He also doesn’t have the greatest health. He’s not nearly as sickly as he might’ve been in, say, the 1930s, but he’s still considered not the healthiest by modern standards, either. He’s also rather short compared to other guys his age. Jake stands about a foot taller than Steve on a good day, even more when chronic illness slumps Steve’s shoulders and keeps him in bed.

Because of his poorer health, Steve has a harder time holding down any type of job for long. That doesn’t bug Jake though as he makes more than enough with his cyber security job and his freelancing software programming gigs on the side.

In fact, he encourages Steve to build up his painting and drawing hobbies, buying Steve the best supplies and even building him a website and social media following. Steve does quite well with it, too, since it allows him to work at his own pace while still feeling like he’s contributing to the household as well.

The only thing really missing in their lives is an Omega they can call their own. It’s not like they haven’t been looking, either, but the few Omegas they had been interested in had left them wanting. They’d either been disappointed that Jake wasn’t ‘Alpha’ enough for them or they didn’t really see Steve as anything more than an attachment of Jake. They refused to give up hope though.

Neither really counted on how one lucky Wednesday morning would change everything for them.

Jake decides to treat Steve to a whole day of pampering and quality time together after the past few busier weeks they’d been enduring. Jake had just finished a major project at work while Steve had finished one of his biggest commissions to date. It was a time to celebrate, relax, and enjoy each other’s company.

It’s why they ended up at the cute little café near their place. Jake stands in line to place their orders while Steve claims a small table and chairs near the windows. Steve likes to people watch and draw whatever he sees, always carrying a small sketchbook for such an occasion everywhere he goes.

Both notice the cute Omega at the front of the line. How could they not? The sweet Omega smells like cinnamon rolls and vanilla. It’s a heady concoction, but they also notice that she’s getting plenty of other attention from other Alphas that she’d probably prefer over Jake anyway. She even seems to be chatting with one of said Alphas while she waited for her order to finish prep.

That changes when her order is called.

When she bids the Alpha a good day, the Alpha bumps her and sends her scrambling and careening into the table where Steve sat. Her drink spills all down her best business outfit while she lands into Steve’s lap. Her impact on his unsuspecting self sends them both to the floor though Steve manages to keep himself under her despite the pain shooting up his spine for his efforts.

Omega is horrified. She sees the small drops of her drink that have landed on Steve’s work and on his clothes. Her apologies can’t come out fast enough as she searches out napkins or anything really to help mop up the mess, not caring about her own dripping state.

It takes Steve a moment to get past the pain shooting up his spine, but he’s doing his best to assure her that his work is fine and that he’s fine. He’s far more concerned to know if she’s okay after the spill she’d taken. Her clothes are matting against her body, and he knows that can’t be comfortable.

What he doesn’t expect is her to stop her frantic cleaning to stare down at his sketch. He really doesn’t expect her to recognize it or him as the online artist, but she does. She even confirms it by whispering, “I can’t believe I messed up your latest masterpiece. I’m so, so sorry” and follows it up with his online name. He’s a bit stunned to say the least.

The Alpha who pushed her is laughing it up, pleased that his little trip had done more than what he’d been hoping for after she had the nerve to turn him down.

Jake, who’d seen everything, steps out of line and rushes over to Steve and the Omega who is still doing her best to apologize to Steve and save the sketch he’d been working on. There are literal tears in her eyes and possibly a bit of fear when Jake approaches.

The Omega recognizes Jake belongs with Steve and the first thing that pops out of her mouth is “I’m so sorry, Alpha, I didn’t mean to make your talented Beta fall for me.”

Oh, Jake is now smitten, especially as he sees Omega’s cheeks grow quite pink and sees her quietly berate herself for her foot-in-mouth syndrome around cute Alphas and Betas.

It also unfortunately gets the other Alpha’s attention, who has taken to snarling his displeasure at her apparent interest in Jake and Steve. He even approaches to cause more trouble when she spots him. Her body goes rigid though her expression shifts to one of pure fire. If the Alpha wants some attention, then she’s going to get him some attention.

In less than two minutes, she has the entire café focused on the scene playing out between her and the Alpha bully. It’s enough to draw the attention of the female Alpha owner as well who bans the bully from her café.

Never in Steve’s or Jake’s experience have they ever seen an Omega take on an Alpha like she does with such expert handling. Both are quite sure they’re a little bit in love with her as she continues to make a stand against the Alpha with the café owner and some other patrons backing her up.

When the Alpha leaves with his proverbial tail between his legs, the owner offers to replace her drink and another set of clothes that she keeps on hand for herself to the Omega if she’d like them. She extends the offer of a free drink to Steve and Jake as well, not wanting to lose two innocent customers to that awful Alpha.

Already late for her big meeting, she declines the clothes but does take up the offer of a new drink. While she waits, she nervously checks in with Jake and Steve to make sure they’re okay and offers to repay them for any damage she might’ve caused thanks to the bullying Alpha.

Both of them assure her it’s fine. They’re just happy that she’s not hurt though they are a bit sad that their interaction is coming to an end.

Before she gets too far though, Jake reaches out to her though he stops just shy of actually touching her. He hasn’t forgotten the brief flash of fear in her eyes upon his earlier approach and can’t stand the thought of possibly frightening her more. When she does turn in his direction, he somehow miraculously doesn’t fumble his words as he asks her to maybe join him and Steve for dinner later that day. He doesn’t need to check with Steve to know he’s also interested in the Omega as well.

A commotion at the shop’s door pulls her attention, and a beautiful smile flits across her features as another Beta walks in with an Omega on his arm.

“What’s taking so long? We’re going to be late. Dear God, what happened to you?” the Beta demands while his Omega tries to shush him.

Their Omega merely shakes her head. “I’m coming, Ran. We had a little mishap, but I’m coming. I know better than to disappoint Ari’s friend.”

Their Omega turns to Jake and nods. “I would love to have dinner with you both if it’s not too much an imposition. Call me in about two hours?”

She slips Jake her business card before vanishing out the café’s door with the other Beta and Omega.

Jake waits exactly two hours before he nervously calls her, putting the call on speaker so Steve could hear everything as well. A small part of him hopes she doesn’t disappoint either of them while on the phone as it’s happened before.

She doesn’t.

Within minutes, they have their plans set to meet at a popular local diner where they could enjoy some good homemade meals while also getting to know one another.

She meets them there in a clean outfit that suits her more than the business suit she’d been wearing that morning. The knee length skirt swishes and twirls around her while the peasant top gives them a decent glimpse of the smooth skin underneath without being too showing. It’s her favorite outfit she admits to them while they wait for their server to arrive.

One of the first questions Steve has for her is how she recognized his work. He’s still a bit gobsmacked about that, especially since he hasn’t been able to get his mind to stop recalling how delicately she’d touched his work. It’d been almost like she’d been touching the Mona Lisa or something equally as valuable. It’s not something he’d experienced firsthand with anyone besides Jake or his few friends.

That’s when they learn Steve helped design her logo and other business media about a year ago. She’d seen his stuff online and had messaged him almost immediately with her ideas and healthy budget to make them a reality. As it turns out, she owns a small homemade candle company, and she’s just landed another retailer who’ll be showcasing her candles after her meeting that morning.

The attention and adoration she’s showing Steve in that moment would make almost any other Alpha jealous of their Beta. After all, she’s practically gushing about how amazing Steve’s art is and how much it’s helped improve her sales as everyone talks about the design. She’s even sent Steve more work because she can’t stop talking about it with her customers. Steve admits he should be giving her something in return for all the referrals and work she’s given him.

Yeah, Jake realizes he should be jealous, but he’s not. He’s the exact opposite at this moment. He’s sitting with someone who values Steve’s talents as much as he does, so how could he possibly be anything other than more smitten with her?

When Steve admits that Jake’s the reason he even has his online business, the talk soon moves to Jake where she learns about his many technical talents. He can see that she’s just as impressed with him as she is with Steve. It’s enough to stroke his ego a bit and have him sitting a bit straighter in his seat.

Their discussion soon moves to hobbies and other things where she soon learns that Jake likes to play one of the most popular first-person shooter games on the market. He admits he can hold his own, but he’s nowhere near as good as some of the other players out there. When he mentions ‘Amaranth Fossa’ as his dream gaming partner, he catches a look he can’t quite figure out that passes over Omega’s face.

They don’t really stop talking all through dinner, but it does eventually have to come to an end. It’s not something any of them want, but they do see that the hour is getting later and the next day is a workday for both Jake and Omega. They end up walking her to her car where she thanks them for a wonderful evening. She doesn’t get into her car until she presses a kiss on each of their cheeks and a promise that they’ll do this again soon.

Jake and Steve share a look, then Jake asks if she’s free the weekend coming up.  

She gives them the sweetest smile and says she is.

Jake and Steve head home after seeing her off. They have a date to plan, and they have no intention of disappointing this sweet Omega that literally dropped into their laps.

*****

Main Masterlist

[amcoffey]

Feel Better

Trafalgar Law x chronically ill Reader

(It's a little bit of a "squint your eyes to see the romance" deal)

Summary:

You’ve never missed a dose. No matter what medicine you were on, you took it at the exact dosage and the exact time needed. This truly is no small feat. You have been on a lot of different medicines in the many years since your diagnosis. Pills, injections, IV infusions. It didn’t matter what it was: you never missed a dose. Well… Never until now. To think the only time you’ve ever missed a dose of your meds is because you got isekaied into One Piece. It sounds like a bad joke. Who is going to ever believe you? Note: One Piece belongs to Echiro Oda. Not I, a lowly fanfiction writer, who is just using his characters to cope.

Word Count: 3,249

CW: Chronic illness, medical jargon, descriptions of pain

Other tags: hurt/comfort, angst, second person perspective, probably out of character Law (ya girl hasn't caught up yet. I'm in Wano)

You’ve never missed a dose. No matter what medicine you were on, you took it at the exact dosage and the exact time needed. This truly is no small feat. You have been on a lot of different medicines in the many years since your diagnosis. Pills, injections, IV infusions.

It didn’t matter what it was: you never missed a dose. 

Well… Never until now. 

To think the only time you’ve ever missed a dose of your meds is because you got isekaied into One Piece.

It sounds like a bad joke. Who is going to ever believe you? 

You wouldn’t if you weren’t in that exact situation. You'd laugh if it wasn't for the anxiety raging within you. Sat in your uncomfortable seat, your leg bounced uncontrollably. You ignore the calculated gaze of the man in front of you.

“Can you please explain what happened?” He was quick to the point. There was no nonsense with him. He wanted to talk about what happened. 

And, to put it simply…

“I can’t.” You didn’t. 

A large part of you was hoping desperately that maybe if you prove you’re more trouble than you’re worth he’ll drop it. Law’s eyes narrowed. 

“Can’t? Or won’t?” To your disappointment, he wasn’t giving up that easily. 

“Both actually.” You answered, defiance in your voice as you glared at him. “Can I go now?”

“Nope.” His steely eyes don’t leave yours as he sits forward in his chair. “Not until you tell me what happened.”

“There’s nothing to say.” You lied. He let out a tight sigh in response. 

“You cannot think I’d believe that given what happened.” 

“Nothing happened.” You insist as you stand from your chair. Pain immediately shoots through your stomach that you do your best to ignore. It didn’t matter though because Law definitely noticed the wince. “Anyways thanks for the talk captain! I’ll be seeing you!” You move to push past him but you're stopped when he sticks his arm in your way. 

“Sit down.” Law didn’t even move from his seat but effortlessly pushed you back in yours. “Where are you hurting?” 

“Umm… Nowhere.” You were pushing his buttons, you knew you were. But you'd rather make the Surgeon of Death mad at you than discuss what he wanted to. Law sighed as he shook his head. 

“You’re being stubborn,” You lowered your gaze to the ground. You can’t look at him. “Why can’t you just talk about it?” 

Why? Why can't you talk about it? Because you were not in this situation. You couldn’t be! You were not about to talk about your chronic illness with Trafagalar Law of all people. 

Because why would you tell him about it? You were in remission, you were fine. Whatever happened that got him so worked up was just… A fluke. 

It had to be. 

“Has this been an ongoing problem?" He speaks up again as he shifts forward. "Why haven’t you said anything about it?” 

“In my defense,” You sat back in your chair and sighed. Your arms circle around your torso. You were looking everywhere but to him. “I didn’t think I’d be here for this long.”

“Defense noted,” He states. "But you are here. You have been." Given how uncooperative you’ve been, you expected him to start getting angry by now. And yet, when you braved a look at him, you saw his gaze was much softer than you were expecting. “I suggest you explain. You happen to be with the best doctor around. I can help.” 

You scoff. Gaze darted back to the floor. That wasn’t the first time you’ve heard that. 

In fact, you heard those words the day you got teleported here. You had switched health insurance and had to change gastroenterologist. That day you had your first appointment with him. 

“I’m the best around.” He had reassured you. But when you started giving your medical history he cut you off. Just to tell you a bunch of basic information you already knew.

"Your condition is an autoimmune chronic disease. There is no cure."

As if you hadn't spent the last 10 years grappling with that fact.

And then when you got home you passed out and ended up in the Grand Line. 

At first you thought the scariest part of showing up here was the fact you had no idea where ‘here’ was story wise. Back at home, you were reading One Piece. You had just read about the Strawhats getting an SOS call that told them about a place called Punk Hazard. But you couldn’t get farther in the manga. You were waiting for the next volume to arrive to your apartment. The ironic thing is it probably arrived by now.

But you were wrong to fear the characters and story. The actual scariest thing about being here was what you were dealing with right now.

“Hey,” Law’s soft calling brought you back to reality. A reality you wanted nothing to do with. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, ok?” Your voice was smaller than you wanted it to be. He sighs and there’s some note of understanding in it. 

“Have you ever thought that maybe talking about it will make you feel better?” 

“It won’t.” You say with certainty. Then knowing he was going to have more questions you didn't want to answer you add “Talking about it reminds me it’s there.” 

“Oh really?” His voice is still soft but there’s some exasperation behind it. “And the debilitating abdominal pain you were in not 30 minutes ago doesn’t?” Well… Shit. He had a point. 

"I didn't say it was abdominal pain." You countered. It was the wrong thing to focus on. But it was something

"You didn't have to. I could tell." His lips quirk up in a victorious smirk. "Doctor. Remember?" You roll your eyes and return your attention to the floor.

"I'm not saying a word." The smirk he had on must have been wiped off by now but you didn't check. You saw in your peripheral as he dragged his hand down his face.

"Come on! You were practically paralyzed." You winced, this time not in pain. But because of the truth his words held. "You wouldn’t move, wouldn’t talk. Your face got deathly pale and patchy. You keep pretending that’s nothing but that… That was not nothing.” 

Why do you even care? You bite back the question as your leg continues to bounce. It didn't matter why he cared. What mattered was he was right.

That's when the it hit you...  

Paralyzing pain… Mouth sores that’ll make eating impossible. Fatigue that makes me wish I wasn’t awake. Your arms started to tremble, your leg bouncing more and more without your knowing. Vomiting up my meals, the malnutrition. the depression... I can’t escape it.. More and more thoughts flood your head, capturing all your attention.  You don't notice Law look at you in concern, opening his mouth to say your name.

You shoot out of your seat, knocking it to the floor.

“I need to go.” You rush to the door. I need to leave this room, this world, I need to go, I need to go back!

Home....

 You don't think as your legs move on their own. They're rushing you out of the room. But before you can even get to the door, Law is there. He has a hand on it, preventing you from leaving. 

“Hey-” He tried to reason with you but you weren’t having it. 

“No, please just stop.” You were shaking at this point. Pain was creeping back into your guts, expanding them, filling you with dread. You can feel your face grow paler, accompanied by patches of hot skin. “I-I need to leave.” 

“No.” Law’s gaze hardened as did his voice. His eyes scan your appearance, studying you. You hate it.

"Stop looking at me!"

“You need to tell me what’s wrong with you!”

“What’s wrong is that fact that it took me 3 years to finally get a handle on my last flare up!" Panicked words were bubbling up faster than you could suppress them. "And now all that work was for nothing because I’m relapsing!” Tears were streaming down your face. The pain was unbearable and you squeeze your eyes shut. Your shaky legs were barely holding you up even though you wanted nothing more than to collapse.

You were so happy and so healthy for the first time in so long. This couldn’t end. This couldn’t be the end!

“Let me help you.” Law insisted. His hands brush against your elbows and you snap backwards. Your knuckles were white from how hard you onto your arms. You looked like you were holding yourself up.

“You can’t-” 

“How do you know that?” He demanded. He had been doing a remarkable job holding back his emotions but they were starting to spill out too. “You won’t even let me try?!”

“You think you're the first person who wanted to try and fix me?!” The tears in your eyes made if hard to see him. “I got worse with my last doctor! And talking about all of this just reminds me of all the hell that is awaiting me because I've skipped too many doses!” Your body wracks hysterically. You lean again the wall to help you stand as pain ravages your guts. You don’t notice how Law is in front of you again until he gently grabs your hands. He lets them tremble in his.

You can't find it in yourself to stop. “For 3 years nothing worked and now I have something that works and it is about to be ruined because I’m missing too many doses because I’m in One Piece. The best thing I can do for myself is go home! I hav- I have to…” Finally, after holding all it in for so long, you break down into incoherent sobs. Law lowers your head onto his shoulder as you sob uncontrollably. He doesn't say anything. He just holds you against him, supporting you with everything he's got.

You hunch inwards, crying even harder as your insides twist in agony.

You know from much too much experience that once it starts, you can't do anything to make them better. You just had to wait the pain out.

Pathetic cries come from you as you think I can't believe I'm relapsing.

….

It takes so long for you to calm down. The pain subsided after a while but you were still crying when it did. 

It didn’t matter to Law. He was patient. Neither of you move from your spots. It's only when you let out an almost relieved sigh that he moves to lift your head up. A gentle grasp on your chin has you tilting your head up for him. And a careful look told you he was studying your features again, looking for signs you were in pain. When he didn’t find any he exhaled a sigh. 

You half expect him to spit some sort of sarcastic remark about how dramatic you’re being. But instead he asks: “Can we sit back down?”

You nod weakly and let him guide you back to the chairs. When you sit down you don’t look at him. 

But you know he’s looking at you. But he doesn't say anything. Maybe he didn't know what to say. You wouldn't blame him.

It was quiet for a long time. Just the sound of your hiccups and sniffles. 

Until finally… 

“I had a terminal illness when I was a kid.” He broke the silence. He caught your attention with that. Your eyes slid over to him, eyebrows knitted together in worry. “It didn’t really get bad until I was a teenager. But by the time I was 10 I knew I was going to die. And when the symptoms finally showed I just knew that my life was over.” His gaze was heavy and his usually sardonic smile held so much sadness in it. “I can still remember the pain. I felt like my body would give out at any moment. Everything hurt.” As he spoke his hand drifted to his chest.

He continued. “I had come to terms with my death. But... There was someone who didn’t. And that someone saved my life.” When he looks back at you his eyes brighten a little. He brings his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you forward until your forehead rests on his. “I’m not giving up on you. I know you’ve felt it too, that your life is over before it could begin. It’s not. I promise you.” 

You didn’t know what to say. 

“How.. How are you alive?” You couldn't help but ask. If his disease is terminal... He gives you a smirk. 

“I’m not lying when I tell you I’m a really good doctor.” You’re taken aback. “Is your illness terminal?” He asks and you feel his thumb draw circles on your neck. It's so calming you almost forget to answer his question.

“No, I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of anyone dying because of it.” You speak truthfully. “But it could ruin my intestines and cause them to stop working…And...” The tears start to return. Oh god… 

“It’s alright,” He whispers. “That’s not going to happen.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Because I’m going to help you. I thought that was obvious.” He laughs lightly. 

"Oh... Right." For the first time since he first sat you down, you smile.

“Do we…” You sniffed as another question popped up in your head. “Do we even have the same medical knowledge? O-or vocabulary?” Law tilted his head against yours. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well... Do you remember when I said I was from a whole 'nother dimension?”

A scoff escapes from his lips. “How can I forget?” 

“Yea so… Doesn’t that mean we have different knowledge?” You leaned back out of his reach, raising your arms. “Our worlds have such different histories. That means we have different medical history right? What if I tell you and you don’t even understand?” 

“We’ll never know if you don’t tell me anything.” He gave a small smirk that was borderline infuriating. But you couldn't find it in yourself to be mad. You let out an exhausted sigh but nod. 

“...Ok. I’ll talk.” Law gives a genuine smile and gets up to grab his notepad. When he sits down again you have his full attention. 

Here we go.

It takes some time to explain your situation. You explain the name, the symptoms. You watch helplessly as Law writes down what you’re saying. 

“Are these episodes you’ve been having today normal?”

“Only when I’m flaring up. That’s the abdominal pain. It feels like something is expanding in my guts, past their limits.” 

“How do you treat your condition?” 

“With medicine.” Medicine that I am more than certain doesn’t exist here. “Every 14 days I take 80 mg over 0.8 ml of Humira or Adalimumab. It’s an injection that goes either into your thighs or your stomach.” As you recite the information you're painfully aware of how it had been since your last Humira shot. Law picks up on this but doesn’t state the obvious that you’ve been on his ship for over 4 weeks. Your leg starts bouncing again.

Law doesn't look up from his writing but says calmly "You have nothing to fear."

Your leg bounces less after hearing that. And a smile grows on his face.

When Law finishes writing you have to ask: “Did you understand anything that I said?”

“Pretty much. I mean your disease is called something else over here. But there is documentation about these symptoms in our world.” He smirked as he glances to you. “And you thought I wouldn't be able to be help.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. 

“Wait.." You pause, taking in his words. "You think you can actually help?” Law scoffs.

“I’m pretty offended you thought I couldn’t. Do you really think so little of me?” You shrugged. 

“I’ve gone through many doctors, captain. You aren’t the first person to act like you could be my savior.” He rolled his eyes and studied his notes again. 

“You mentioned not having control over your illness for 3 years. Was that when you were diagnosed?” 

For some reason that question startles you. “No, that was just when it last flared up. I've been diganosed since I was a teenager.” Law looked like his heart dropped as he looked back at you. 

“How old were you?

“13.” You try to answer as if this wasn’t the most tragic part of your story. You were just barely a teenager and your whole life got turned upside down in the span of a day. 

You could remember lying in that hospital bed. Your doctor spoke to your parents, using terms he didn’t bother to define for you. 

"Their condition is an autoimmune chronic disease. There is no cure."

It took you a few years to truly understood what that meant.

“... I was 13 when I got rid of my illness.” Law softly spoke up. Your eyes found his.

“Really?”

“Yea.” He sighed heavily. “It’s insane to think that while I was curing myself of my condition, you were just getting yours.” There’s a distant look in his eyes. “But also… How you talk about this speaks to years of experience. I’ve never had a patient tell me their treatment plan in as much detail as you can.” You give a humorless laugh. 

“What a useless skill I have.” 

“Clearly not useless.” Law scoffs lightly. "And this disease. It's a problem with your immune system?"

"Yea. It gets confused and attacks healthy cells, mistaking them for unhealthy ones. I don't know the exact science of it."

“That's fine." He reassures you. "It sounds like you just need an immune system rewrite.” You lift your head up and look at him in confusion. 

“What? To treat it I just need to block some of its functions so it doesn’t go out of control and attack everything.” You ignore the obvious that you don't know how that would work as you look at Law.

“I’m not talking about treatment.” He stands up and pats your head. “I’m talking about curing you.” The words pass through your ears and make you dizzy. 

Cure… Me? I can be cured? 

Law starts to walk away, going to a desk and rummaging through it as you process those words.

"...Why?" You speak up as you gaze in his direction. He turns to look at you.

"Why what?"

"Why are you helping me? Is there a catch or something?" He looks a little perplexed, like he didn't know the answer himself. But in the end he just shrugs.

"It's nice having you on my crew. You can offer insight that no one else can, being from another universe and all."

It felt like there was more to it than that. But you don't push it.

“And you can do it? Just completely rewrite my immune system?” Law just smirked and lifted his eyebrows in a cocky manner. 

“You say our world is what… A series of comic books in your world?” 

“I mean that’s putting it mildly but yea.”

“How far did you get in those comics?” 

“Uh… Punk Hazard?” 

Law laughs lightly and looks at you. “You definitely don’t understand what I can do.” 

Author's Note:

My partner is convinced Law could fix me. So I wrote a roughly 3,249 word one shot about that fantasy. What a nice fantasy that is. Originally wrote this for ao3 but thought it might do well here. Hope you enjoyed this wildly out of character fic. It's my copium :]

[er0dedc0pper]

Disabled Marinette is actually so important to me. Need her getting unusually heated during a fight and collapsing, than immediately getting back to beating the fuck out of HawkMoth. Her having the most thick and blinding brain fog, so she doesn’t even attempt to explain her insane lucky charm plans, instead muttering a few words and hoping Chat understands. He does, like 99% of the time. The nightmares she has are insane, like her body is so heat intolerant that she absolutely embraces the cold nights she spends with Chat. It’s fine, the cool wind helps balance her lack of temperature regulation! I also feel like after particularly hard fights, migraines and nausea enveloped her. But I also feel like the power from tikki gives her the energy too continue when Marinette wouldn’t. Ladybug definitely masks her chronic illness, like sorry I threw up! My lunch wasn’t sitting right! And with Tikki’s power, it’s easy to act abled! Though even sometimes, her disability overcomes the tiny god’s abilities!

Also; Ladybug using her luck charm too summon a mobility aid only to beat the crap out of what ever villain is terrorizing Paris.

Meanwhile, Marinette is very open about her disability, though I feel like it would be in character for literally no one to catch on about it. Like Marinette? Yeah she’s just super clumsy! She’s super ditzy and forgetful too! She also misses a lot of school and sleeps like 15 hours! But that’s just Marinette for you! The only ones to actually notice would probably be Félix, Kagami, and surprisingly, Chloe. Though Luka is suspicious of her constant state of fatigue!

Even with all of that, Marinette still helps her families bakery, sews, draws, and does super heroine things! It’s a mix of “I’m actually capable of doing things” and an unhealthy obsession with being hyper independent. Because resting and relying on someone feels like a burden, and the hero of Paris must always be useful!

This of course, ensues a nasty and straight up horrific burn out. Yikes! She’d looks like a walking corpse after HawkMoths defeat…

[missusmiller]

Ignore this if you want and thank you for the hard work: Can I have a Scenario or one shot with Neteyam and fem S/O who is human but is sick, they are close friends and S/O always writes poems and songs for him, S/O has a heart disease that's why they are creating an Avatar for her, she loves to sing but she never sang again since she knew her heart and since she stayed on Pandora. But once she gets her Avatar body finally she can run, get rid of chest pains, fatigue, and the fear of dying and finally can sing again.

yayo // n.s x human -> na’vi reader

contains: lots of mentions of dying, heart disease, chronic illness stuff, soul transfer scene, fluff, shitty writing, drinking and being drunk, being in love with eywa cuz shes awesome

notes: this is not proofread at all my bad. also yayo means bird in na’vi cuz reader sings and birds sing so yeah aw so cute.

2.5k words

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was thirteen years old, roughhousing with Neteyam and his younger siblings on the forest floor. We were having endless amounts of childish fun until I collapsed onto the dirt in a fit of breathless wails. Pain filled my chest as my heart eventually stopped beating. Neteyam carried me back in a panic to the lab where I was taken to get medical attention. I was thirteen when they told me I had valvular heart disease. I was thirteen when my life changed forever.

When I was diagnosed five years ago, Norm wasted no time to make sure I got an avatar. That avatar was my escape from the decaying prison I call my body. It felt like forever until he allowed me to drive it and when I did I was still restricted from doing most things. My heartbeat in my avatar body translates through the link so if I went too hard, my human heart would suffer. My avatar just temporarily stopped me from feeling the constant aches and pain.

Everyday my human body was only getting weaker and the topic of my death seemed to come up a lot more often in hushed conversations between the scientists. I could see the pity in everyone’s eyes as I walked around the lab. The pitiful looks towards me put a bitter taste in my mouth.

The only things that kept me from rotting in my bed for days on end were music, my poems, and my loved ones. Neteyam visited on a regular basis, often with his siblings or parents.

On the days that it was just Neteyam, he got the opportunity to see songs and poems I wrote. I’d hum the melody, not having enough courage or energy to sing fully. Those days usually ended with me ripping out his favorite song or poem of the day from my journal and gifting it to him. The loss of paper was worth seeing the thankful smile on his face every time. Throughout the years of our friendship, he never seemed to have a clue that my more romantic writings were about him.

Speaking of Neteyam, his obnoxiously cute accent echoed through my room as he entered and announced himself, “Y/N, your favorite friend has arrived!”

“Yes, you are my favorite friend, Nete. Always will be until my demise pretty soon.” I said with a small, careful laugh. Everything I did these days had to be done with caution.

Although what I said wasn’t meant to be taken in a depressing manner, I didn’t miss the look of pity and sadness that swam in Neteyam’s big yellow eyes.

“Hey man, don’t be like that. It’ll be okay, Nete.” I lied, motioning for him to come over to my bed where I laid. Since he was entirely too big to fit on my bed he settled on the floor next to me. I reached out to pet his hair like I usually do to comfort him but his large hand gently stopped my hand from going any further.

“You are dying yet you still try to comfort me? Think about yourself for once, Y/N. You are the one that needs comfort.” Neteyam lectures me, a stern face meeting my sight. Ironic how he is the one saying this considering his history.

A sigh left my mouth and I rolled onto my back to stare at anything but his intimidating eyes. He wasn’t wrong. I’ve been making sure everyone else was okay with my situation without even making sure that I was okay with my situation.

When I turned back around and looked at him again, it was like I could feel the imaginary concrete dam of numbness break down. What followed was the flooding of all those emotions and throughts that were kept at bay. I have always despised the way that Neteyam could break my walls down so easily.

“You’re right. I’m not ready to die, I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared.” My voice cracked embarrassingly at the word ‘die’ but neither me nor Neteyam cared in the moment.

“You will not die,” He paused for a moment to confirm what he was about to say, “because Eywa can bless you like she did with my father when he was human. I prayed to Eywa for permission and she gave me a sign. My parents approve, Y/N. But only if you wish to do this.”

My eyes widened and I shot up from my bed, tumbling onto the floor which earned me a hiss of concern from my friend. Out of pure excitement and disbelief, I quickly sat up on my knees and grabbed his face to place many fast happy kisses all over it.

Immediately after my loving attack on his face, he had to take a few breaths from his specialized mask. I didn’t pay much attention to it, not knowing his breathlessness had been due to my actions.

“I—I didn’t know you’d be this excited.” He managed to choke out as a purple hue spread throughout his cheeks and ears.

“Nete, you are giving me a way to not only live longer but a way to live with the people I love. I can be with you, Kiri, Lo’ak, and Tuk without any of us having to wear masks. I can sing again. Like truly actually sing again.”

A large grin stretched across Neteyam’s face upon my realization. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t miss my voice. I used to sing him Earthly lullabies and songs in our youth before my heart became weak. Even though we were young, he would always tell me that I was going to be a strong singer much like his mother and Ninat.

The rest of the night we joked, hugged, and messed around. He even sang the same song to me that I used to sing to him as kids. The act alone made my heart felt like it was going to burst but in a good way not like the usual heart attack painful way.

Eclipse soon came and Neteyam had to leave to attend to his duties —future Olo’eyktan stuff and all that. We kept in contact for days after to prepare me for my soul transferring ceremony.

When the day arrived, I was both nervous and excited. There was always a risk that I could be too weak to make it through the eye of Eywa. But if I were to die I’d rather die and be with Eywa than anywhere else.

The scenery was absolutely beautiful. Tons of Na’vi sat in rows, their bonds connected to the ground as they chanted a prayer. The ground lit up with bioluminescent blue lights, the tree a beautiful pinkish purple.

Mo’at stood at the tree, awaiting me.

Neteyam carried my leaf covered body through the aisle and he gave me a calming smile to ease my nerves. Eywa gave him a sign so he had absolutely no worries about this.

He followed Mo’at’s instructions to place me diagonally to where my na’vi body lay. “See you on the other side, yayo.” Neteyam said before stepping off to the side to allow the tsahik to do her thing.

The rest of the process was unknown to me because after Mo’at started chanting, my consciousness began to float up and out of my body. All physical restraints were broken as this spirit form danced freely.

A breathtakingly beautiful woman came into my vision. She looked like nothing I had ever seen before. Her energy made me feel warm, like no harm could ever come to me.

“Oh child, such a pure spirit you are.”

If I had a physical form at the moment I’d cry in her arms. I felt so vulnerable. So much so that I couldn’t talk but she knew what I had to say. She felt so loving, I didn’t want to leave.

“You cannot stay, child. He needs you.”

“He needs you.”

As if on cue, my spirit was sucked from the high place back down to life. I shot up in shocked surprise. Everything was fuzzy and I lost any remembrance of where I was.

A pair of strong arms held my panicked body close to theirs and they stroked my hair until I calmed. The ringing in my ears soon became sharp, clear sounds. Sounds of my name being whispered. Sounds of the rain lightly falling. Sounds of leaves brushing against one another.

“That’s it, that’s it. Come back to me.” A voice that I’ve known to always warm my heart spoke. The result on my heart was as previously stated.

Everything came back to me.

I wasted no time to shout tearful praise for Eywa and the clan started ululating as a response of joy.

Neteyam couldn’t help the tears that left his eyes. I was finally safe. I was finally okay.

“Now we celebrate!” Jake Sully yells like one of his war speeches and the clan roared before they started leaving to regroup somewhere—I assumed.

I felt something behind me swish in excitement. I look and my face lit up. A tail. A really adorable cute tail.

“Get her some clothes and meet us at the party!” Kiri laughed to Neteyam and the Sully family left quickly.

My heart dropped at the realization that I was in fact fully naked, “OH MY GOD IM BOOTYBUTT NAKED!”

Neteyam’s laugh boomed through the forest and the sound only added to the fast paced beating in my chest.

“You are Na’vi now! It does not matter! Come on, I already have an outfit planned for you. You’ll love it.” He took my hand and excitedly dragged me along to wherever he had my clothes. We reached his home which was empty considering the surrounding Na’vi were down celebrating the latest gift from Eywa, my rebirth.

Neteyam took some pieces of fabric from a box and tossed them over to me. I unraveled them and blinked in confusion.

“How do I put these strings on?”

After instruction, trial, and error, I finally got the loincloth and top on.

Looking in the mirror that I gifted Neteyam a few months ago, I inspected this outfit that he had so much confidence that I’d like.

The top was made of colorful woven thread and fabric, almost like crochet, and it splayed on my body like a necklace but tied in the back. It provided enough coverage for me to feel comfortable while also feeling supportive since my body was built a bit differently than normal Na’vi women. The loincloth was a pretty purple color, probably made of the same material as Neytiri’s leggings, and it only covered the front part. But I didn’t mind because when I turned around in the mirror, my ass looked good.

“Your past human vanity will rot your mind.” Neteyam joked as he watched me pose so that I could look at my nice blue ass.

After his little remark I stopped posing and stuck my tongue out at him before stating, “You ain’t gotta be human to recognize sexy. Now let’s go have fun.”

As we ran down branches without a care in the world I finally for once felt truly happy. I did not have to care about my heart failing or me suddenly collapsing on the ground. No, now I was really living. Neteyam noticed the change in my attitude and it sent a flutter to his heart.

When we arrived at the party the energy was electric. Everyone was drinking, eating, and dancing. Laughter filled the air around us. After two hours of fucking around, I was definitely getting slightly drunk.

When a group of Na’vi started singing a song that I recognized Kiri teaching me, I did not hesitate to let my voice out for the first time in years.

Happiness radiated through my body. It was almost like a visible aura surrounding me as I sung.

When the songs were over, Jake stood up and started speaking which silenced the room, “I would like to make a speech about dear Y/N here.”

The smell of alcohol filled my nose when he spoke.

He gripped my shoulder in a very dad-like manner and continued, “I have watched her grow from a young girl to a strong woman with a brave heart. She has been a friend to the Sully family for many years. My children do not know of a life without Y/N. Today, I proudly claim Y/N as a Sully! As a sister to my children.”

I wanted to melt into the floor. Sister? I think I would rather kill myself. I appreciate his enthusiasm and I love the guy but come on man. I had to set things straight immediately.

“Sir! Sir! No, I can’t accept it!” I blurt out, causing flabbergasted looks from the entire Sully family and the rest of the clan.

In a drunken stupor I quickly attempted to explain myself, “I want to be a Sully and want to be a part of this family but not like this. I don’t think I could mentally handle being the sister to the man I love.” During my explanation I held my sight on Neteyam.

His wide eyes softened when he realized what I meant. My name softly left his lips like I would shatter if he said it normally. All I could do was fiddle nervously with my top while waiting for a reaction, any reaction.

“I love you too.” He shamelessly stated before he stole me from his father’s grasp and held me once again to his body. His hands were dug into my hair and waist as if I would fly away. Our tails whipped madly behind us which caused Neytiri to swoon over how in love we looked.

Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk who were off to the side eating dessert were now freaking out over the scene unfolding in front of them. Neytiri had to shush the three of them so that the lovely moment wasn’t ruined by their gossiping voices.

To Neytiri’s despair, Jake’s tipsy laugh echoed through the area as he said, “Well, you heard the woman! She’s a future Sully!”

The clan woo’d and chuckled and carried on with partying, the topic of choice of Na’vi girl conversations now being that Neteyam is unfortunately spoken for.

“I didn’t exactly plan on telling you this way or this…publicly.” I said while swaying with my newly acclaimed lover to the music.

Neteyam gazed into my eyes, “I quite enjoyed it, my love. Now everyone knows that you’re mine and I am yours.”

His new nickname gave me goosebumps. The complete bliss I was feeling had to be fake. This all had to be fake.

But when Neteyam took my face in his hands and kissed me so passionately, so lovingly, it brought me back to reality. He was truly mine now.

That night I was given a place amongst the Omaticaya.

A place amongst the Sully’s.

A place with the one I loved where I sang him to sleep with the same lullabies from what seemed like forever ago.

[idontplaytrack]

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

AJ Campos x chronically ill fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, descriptions if chronic illness + symptoms, smut ending

Reader’s significant moments in life while being ill. And only having the one person who’s always been by her side.

I just wanted to write this after hearing that one part of song trending on Tiktok. Evidently triggered some memories I tried to push down🤐

July.

“Hey, you’re not in school, babe?”

“No, I’m not feeling too good.” You told her honestly.

“I’ll be by after school with your work and some things for you, okay?”

“Okay, thank you.” You told her, swallowing thickly when you felt another wave of pain hit you.

“See you later, babe. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” You answered, she hung up. You put your phone down and curled up into a fetal position in your bed where you stayed until she got here later that day. Well, you fell asleep, but there you still were. In that same place all day, practically.

Your Mom peeped into your room a few times but as always, like it’s been for the past month or so, she’s been checking in on you less and less. You don’t blame her, she’s done all she could. No matter what, you were still in pain.

You’d just walked out of the bathroom down the hall from your room when you heard AJ’s voice come from downstairs. You stood at the top of the stairs, waiting for her. You were happy to see her. Locking eyes with you, she smiles, picking up her pace.

When your constant hospital visits started to happen, she didn’t exactly question it, or your change in pretty much everything. She just went with the flow, quietly helping you in any way she could. The girl was observant, she doesn’t say much, but she knows a lot about what’s going on without being told explicitly. Like how, you’ve been to the hospital three times in the last month. Each time being sent home with no answers and same medication. Like how, after every hospital visit, the light in your eyes seems to dim more and more. Like how, it takes anyone more and more effort to make you smile. She knew you’d be faking at times, she knew you were going through a lot that she couldn’t exactly understand. A part of her wanted to know more but she knew you weren’t ready to share. Another part of her also knew you couldn’t tell her much— you didn’t know a whole lot about what was going on with you. Every day since four weeks ago, she wishes that you hadn’t gone to the clinic that morning. That’s how this whole situation started. The doctor discovers you had a lump in your stomach, and sends you to the emergency department that evening to get checked for what he thought was appendicitis. Spoiler alert, it was not appendicitis. It apparently also wasn’t anything.

That one supposedly straightforward visit to your regular doctor for a missed day at school due to an upset stomach was the very beginning of a terribly long fight. You didn’t want to share that much with her seeing that you had only started dating her three months ago, and yet, here she was with you, without any complaints while you were moody and ‘sick’.

~~~~~

“AJ?” You managed to say, “I can’t do it. Will you come pick me up?”

August. You nearly fainted at your summer job because of a sudden pain in your chest, freaking out your coworkers and shift leader. Which prompted them to send you home. They asked you to go see a doctor, but you didn’t want to. Of course. Why would you go back to those people who laughed at your pain?

“Sure, baby. I’m on my way, okay? Sit down, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Thankfully, you worked near home so it didn’t take long for her to come by. Once she saw you, however, she immediately had the same idea as your coworkers. “You are so pale.” She points out.

“They’re not gonna find anything.” You said flatly.

“Your chest hurts. And you nearly fainted, I’m not joking with you right now, y/n. This has to be checked out.”

“Would’ve been dead by now if it was anything that serious.” You sighed, looking out the window as she sped towards the nearest urgent care.

Because of your symptoms, you were prioritised. And were seen fairly quickly, but you were still pissed off because again, you were told there wasn’t anything they could do but let it improve on its own, with the help of that one kind of medication they seem to love giving you. Three hours, one x-ray, physical exam and EKG later. They say, “It’s just an inflammation of the cartilage of your ribs. It’s self-limiting and should go away within a week or two. Just try not to do too much of what triggers the pain for you.”

You bite back a scoff. ‘Great, now I can’t go to work too?’

AJ sensed that you were upset so she didn’t talk to you for the ride home. Your mom sees you walking in with a bag of the meds and stops you to ask what happened, you didn’t want to talk, because you knew you’d lose it and start screaming so you handed her the bag which also contained a memo from the doctor so she could read it for herself.

“Oh.” You heard her say while walking upstairs. That was it, nothing more. She didn’t say anything else. Nothing. You hear footsteps behind you: AJ’s. You knew. “AJ, go home.” You told her as calmly as you could.

She doesn’t say anything to you but continued to follow you to your room. “Change your clothes.” She hands you a baggy t-shirt and your favourite pair of shorts. You changed out of your current outfit without resistance, simply doing so in silence. Next, you climbed under the covers and closed your eyes…trying to ignore the lingering ache and not-so-occasional waves of pain in your ribs. While you tried to drift off, AJ stays awake for a little longer, going on the internet to find out more about this diagnosis of an inflammation of one’s ribcage cartilage.

AJ couldn’t find out too much more of what she hasn’t already been told, but she did read that some people find that heat or ice helps. So she kept that in mind to have you try out the next day. Which you appreciated, but didn’t exactly show it. The lack of sleep made you terribly irritable. Still, she made sure you at least tried using the heat pack. It gave you some relief allowed you to get a couple hours of good sleep. AJ’s comforting back rubs similarly lulled you to sleep, but you made sure to ask for cuddles for when you woke up.

“Sure, baby.” She smiles, stroking your hair while you laid on her, heat pack on your back, currently kept in place by AJ’s hand.

~~~~~

August came and went without too much trouble apart from the ribcage pain flaring up two weeks after it died down the first time. September was oddly calm for you, but nothing prepared you for the atrocity that was October. Hours of waiting in the ER for test results, waiting for a proper bed but ending up sleeping in the ward corridor for the entirety of your stay. Having to leave the hospital one morning to take an exam, then go back to the hospital to be readmitted so you could wait for more test results. Which were inaccurate. Until you came back in a second time after getting discharged just a week prior. “You’re saying, your previous hospital did not keep track of the growth?”

“They said it wasn’t necessary.”

“And why?” Your new doctor was baffled.

“Because they ruled me crazy and every doctor since then saw that in my file and decided I was. And that I was there to avoid my life and responsibilities.”

“The ‘lump’ is the size of an egg, y/n.”

“Well, what could I do? My parents chose to listen to those doctors instead of me. I would too, because it is crazy, everything that I’ve had to put up with.”

“We need to get a biopsy done as soon as possible to determine whether it’s malignant or not.” Your doctor says.

“Okay?” You sighed, “Tell my parents that. They will be thrilled to have to spend more money on me.”

The panic didn’t set in until you were in bed for the night, at AJ’s. You somehow just needed her with you, and it didn’t click in your head why. You told her everything that night. Everything. Through tears and all, but she listened attentively, eyes never even leaving you for a second. Once you stopped talking, she took you into her arms and just held you until you stopped crying, rubbing your back comfortingly.

“You will always have me by your side. Okay? Always.” She says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You sniffled, “I’m sorry. That was a lot.”

“You never have to deal with that alone, y/n. I’m here. I’m your girlfriend. I’ll always be here for you. I promise.”

Her declaration only made you cry like a baby, practically inconsolable. “You’ll be okay.” She whispers, “Hm? I’ll make sure of it.”

Words were just…words. Nice to hear, but realistically, what could she do? She was your age. She’d just be a companion, be there for moral support. You didn’t think it was fair to put her through this hell of yours, you were ready for her to dump you. But she did the opposite of what you were expecting. That night, you were simply emotionally exhausted and just crashed, almost immediately falling asleep in the safety and comfort of her arms. You couldn’t even resist it and tell her no, that it wasn’t supposed to be like this. That you shouldn’t be her burden as well.

~~~~~

Your parents left to go on a business trip two days after your biopsy. Which, the doctor said it was perfectly fine because it wasn’t a major procedure, per se, it sucked not having anyone around just in case. It was now the end of October, weather was getting chilly and you were anticipating another flare up of your pain in the ribs. You hadn’t talked to AJ since the morning of the biopsy and you didn’t plan to any time soon. You just didn’t want to. You didn’t feel like dragging her on further in the mess of a life you now had. She hasn’t texted you since two nights ago, anyway.

You were suddenly pulled out of your thoughts when you heard a string of knocks on your front door. Lazily getting up to go open it after vaguely seeing a familiar face in the peephole, AJ walks in. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” You told her with a straight face, “I’m in pain all over somehow and bloated from all the gas they had to pump into me to separate my bowels from the location of the tumor. So I’m nauseous. But hey, you don’t need to know that. You shouldn’t need to know that.” You went off on a tangent about how she shouldn’t be caring so much because you couldn’t give her much, how she should just go live her life instead of spending so much time with you moping around.

“y/n, you are so—”

“I’ve heard it all already, you don’t have to tell me again: ‘whiny, weak, disgusting, lazy, stupid, crazy’. Take your pick, AJ.”

“What?” She stops you, holding onto your wrist, you flinch because of a bruise left by failed IV plug setting attempts.

“I don’t need love. What I need is a fucking break from this fucking life that’s turned into some sort of survival game.” You scoffed, “Let go of my wrist.”

She immediately loosens her grip, watching you with eyes filled with pure concern and heartache.

“I have been poked and prodded probably hundreds of times in my week in the hospital. Most I’ve ever had been in my entire life, I’ve never felt more worthless because of how much of my dignity I’ve thrown out of the window. I cried to my nurse, my mom found it hilarious. I was in pain, trying to sleep when some other patient started spewing their guts so I got a panic attack. My mom scolded me for it, she didn’t want to be there. She wanted to be at home. I’ve never spent so much time away from home, my family. People who were supposed to care about me. They left me there alone, the first chance they could. No one texted me to check on me, I felt like I was just abandoned there. Then you come in here and do everything the opposite— I don’t know how— to take it. I can’t— I can’t do this to you, AJ. You deserve better than this.”

She started to cry the more you revealed to her, absolutely heartbroken and horrified by nearly every word you said. Still, she tenderly held your face in her hand, swiping your tears away. “I love you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been anywhere with you if I didn’t.”

You shook your head, swallowing that painful lump in your throat, backing away from her.

“Listen to me and remember what I’m telling you.” She stepped forward, looking at your hands then taking ahold of them, “I love you. I don’t care what the fuck life throws at you, I will be here for you. I can’t take your pain away but I will do whatever I can to make your day better. If you need anything, if you need me there, call me. Text me, show up at my door. I don’t care. You are not alone. You are not going through all of this alone. I care. I fucking love you, y/n. Don’t give up.”

The rest of that day was a complete blur. You cried until you couldn’t and probably passed out. In her arms, yet again. When you woke up again, the sun was about to set. “Hi.” She greets you with a smile. “Hi.” You mumbled.

“What’s the matter? Do you feel sick?” Instantly, she picks up on it, rushing to your side.

“A bit. I don’t know why—”

“It’s okay.” She rubs your back, leading you to the couch, kicking the plastic trash can to your feet in the process.

“I don’t want to.” You sniffled.

“I’ll be right here, baby.” She says softly, still rubbing your back, “I got you, you’re okay.”

The sickening feeling kept building up, and it eventually gets to the point where you could no longer fight it. Bending over, you spilled what little you had in your stomach into the bin. Tears pricked at your eyes and fell against your will, your arm splints your sore procedure sites and stomach. AJ was not the least bit fazed, continuing to rub your back and tell you that you were fine. You got that bin out of your sight as soon as you felt okay enough to not need it anymore, then, she was beside you again. “Do you think you can stomach some water?”

You shrug, curling up in a corner of the couch and staring into blank space. “Popsicle?”

“Okay.” You exhaled, “I’ll…I’ll try.”

She got you comfortable in her embrace, flipping through TV channels for you to get your mind off things. You wanted nothing but her, being in her arms was the best feeling you could ever have.

~~~~

Over the next year, you suffered from two recurrences of the tumor, or disease— used interchangeably by your doctors. And so you and AJ have become incredibly familiar with the processes. Pre, during and post-procedure. You detested the familiarity, you’ve had enough. You were numb at this point, but now had a fear of hospitals and having to be admitted. Some days, you questioned it all. But AJ was there to make sure you were okay. You also made sure she was okay on days where you were feeling better. You were surprise to have made it past a year with AJ, but you were feeling so immensely grateful for that girl. She was your rock through it all…someone that was once a stranger, was now the single most important person in your life. Your parents were there, but only because they had to be there, because they had to sign the papers, to pay for the appointments and procedures. They may ask how you were, but you could tell they weren’t willing. And you got that, you would be sick and tired of that too. You couldn’t blame them, but you were hurt.

This day marked your second clear MRI scan, no sign of recurrence. You were the happiest you’d been in awhile, once home, you immediately attacked her with a kiss which turned into a heated makeout session. Then, more.

“Are you sure?” She asks, palm resting on your stomach.

“Yeah.” You confirmed, “I want this.”

“Okay.” She agrees. “Sit up, and lean against the headboard okay? I don’t want to hurt you by straddling you.”

You do as she tells you to, and she starts to pepper kisses all over your body. Every single inch of it, slow and gentle and so, so loving. AJ was practically worshipping your body, it made your head giddy with pleasure soon enough. Smoothly, she slide of your shorts and underwear, then your shirt. It was clear she wanted to do more, and she did. “You okay?”

“Yep.” Your breathing hitches when she starts to suck at a certain spot on your neck. She picks up on that and keeps working that spot over.

You exhaled harshly, “Fuck.”

“Is that good, baby?”

You nodded, throwing your head back more to allow her easier access. Her hand makes its way to your chest, pushing your bra down on one side, she decided to give your tit a squeeze. You yelped, chuckling eventually. She grins, pinching your nipple and easily drawing out a soft moan which she quickly swallows with a kiss, “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.”

Fuck.

The wetness between your thighs becomes so noticeable, it made you terribly shy. So much so that when her hand finally makes its way down south, your cheeks were flushed with a deep red hue. AJ laughs, “Aw.” Her middle finger teases your folds as she speaks, making you whimper, rutting your hips against her hand needily. “Let me do the work, baby…” She purrs, “You just sit there and make those pretty, pretty noises for me? How about that?”

With that being said, her hand leaves that area between your legs. And she presses a trail of wet, passionate kisses to your torso. Knowing that your scars were all in plain sight to her made you feel a little…ugh. But then again, she was driving you nuts cooing and complimenting everything about you. No one’s ever made you feel so wanted. “Hey.” She says quietly, “Look at me, baby.”

“No.” She licked your lips, looking up at the ceiling while she was on her stomach, face comfortably between your legs.

“Look at me, honey.” She repeated, “I get that it’s hard, so I don’t want you to feel like you have to finish. Or do anything more than this. I can stop. Alright?” Her hands caresses your inner thigh, you feel that warmth. You’d sobered up a little, but enough to fight the desire for her to make you climax. For the very first time. You locked eyes with her, she looks at you, patiently waiting for an answer. “Keep going.”

“Yeah?” She asks, hand squeezing your thigh lightly. You simply give her a nod, she instantly starts to work you up again, then you soon feel her fingers teasing your entrance. She pushes one in smoothly, hooking it upward to hit your sensitive spot inside. You whine softly, she keeps doing it and you got louder. Once you felt ready, in came her second finger without a hitch.

“Just…just like that.” You moaned, “Oh, God, AJ—”

“Keep going, baby. Sounds like music to my ears.” She says lowly. Oh, shit. That really made you feel something.

With her fingers steadily pumping in and out of you, and her thumb hitting your clit and just the right amount of pressure. You were closer then ever to that climax, feeling that fluttering in your core.

“I— oh, my God— oh— so good, fuck.” Your hips start to lift up, and she pulls her fingers out. You objected with a whine. But not for long, because holy shit, she puts her mouth on you. You saw it, you felt it. But you couldn’t exactly believe it. It felt like you had ascended into an entirely different dimension. How gentle she was. The warmth, the closeness. Her gaze locked in with yours. You were going feral, and becoming like putty beneath her without much effort. Your mind was emptied, and filled with nothing but the need to come. The need to feel more of her.

You twitched in her mouth, feeling yourself clenching around her fingers. She groans at the abrupt tightness but then grins, picking up her pace just enough to chase your high. Your knuckles turn white from gripping the sheets, breathing slowly getting heavier by the second as you approached the edge. You feel the coil tightening quicker and quicker, until you just had to let it go. “AJ, I’m gonna—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, toes curling as you unraveled, “Shit—”

She begins slowing down gradually to let you ride out every last wave of it, eventually caressing your inner thighs and peppering kisses all over them before working her way up to your lips while wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand. “That was intense.” You laughed deliriously.

“I know.” She cracked a smile, “Do you feel alright?”

“Mm, yeah.” You hummed, kissing her again. She cups your cheek, smooching you again too. “That was amazing.”

She grins, “You were pretty fucking amazing.” You blushed, she said, “Oh, look at that.”

You chuckled in response, she slowly eased you onto the mattress properly so that she could cuddle with you. “I told you. You’ll be okay.” AJ says, “And you are. No matter what, I’m always here.”

“I don’t say this enough and I’m so sorry.” You snuggled closer to her, “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me, for every minute you’ve chosen to spend with me. You mean the world to me and I can never thank you enough. I love you so much.”

“I know you do, baby. I know. Don’t be sorry about things you can’t control. I know you love me, you may now tell me that but you show it one way or another: making sure I don’t sleep through my alarms even on days where you’re not feeling your best, making me a drink, my favourite meal, running me a bath…just about anything you do means so much because I know how much effort and energy it takes you to do them, but you still do them. You still wake up, most days by my side, living another day. You are so strong, my love.”

“Fuck.” You laughed but end up in tears, “I love you, AJ. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you more, honey.”

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

💭 A/N: I wasn’t sure if I wanted to post this fic because of how personal (and traumatic) some details are. It started off as a draft for me to vent, but I simplified most of it and decided to share it after all. Hope it wasn’t too much🤧 ok g’night, I’ve got work tomorrow afternoon and it’s past midnight🤡

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Onset - Chapter Two.

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen/JJK Pairing: Geto Suguru x Original Female Character Characters: Geto Suguru, Valerie (OC) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Established Friendship, Geto and OC are roommates, Self-Insert, Smut, Penis in Vagina Sex, Creampie, Brief mention of an inability to get pregnant, Unprotected Sex, Cunnilingus, if I tagged everything we’d be here all day, This is part of a series

Part 3 of Sundane

Previous Part: Egg Fried Rice

Previous Chapter: One

Summary:

He isn’t expecting her to throw his earlier words back at him that way, and it catches him off-guard. “Why do you always remember the dumb shit I say?”

“Was it dumb?”

“It wasn’t absolute,” he mumbles. He pauses, knowing that if he says what he wants to say next, he’ll kick himself for it.

He says it anyway. “Sometimes one slips through the cracks, you know,” he adds softly. “Sometimes, there’s one that really is special.”

Read on AO3

“I’m sorry about what I said.”

She’s started to doze off when he says it, and it takes her sluggish, sated brain a few seconds to catch up with her ears. “What?” 

Shit. He’s torn between two feelings. The first is annoyance that she hasn’t somehow magically read his mind and figured out what he’s apologizing for. He doesn’t want to have to explain himself. He wants her to know why he’s sorry, so they can move past it and forget it happened.

The second, more prominent feeling is that pang of guilt that’s resurfaced, sticking in his side and reminding him that he actually does owe her an apology for what he said earlier. He once again pushes that pang of guilt back into the abyss, but the residual feelings that linger leave him wanting to clear the air. “What I said earlier,” he sighs. “About you not being able to get pregnant. I know it’s a sore spot for you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says with a shrug. “It’s not like you to feel sympathy for something like that, and it isn’t something other people care about either.”

He lifts his head from her stomach to look up at her. She’s smiling, but he gets the feeling it’s because she thinks she should be. “You wanna talk about it?”

Her fingers pause in their movement in his hair as she considers his face. His expression is open, non-judgmental, as if meant to make her feel like she can continue talking about this if she wants to. Part of her wants to spill everything - to tell him these feelings that she’s never shared with anyone else. But part of her feels like talking about this with Suguru would be like opening a door she won’t ever be able to close again. 

She is still contemplating opening that door when she feels the soft warmth of Suguru’s lips against her skin. It’s a gentle kiss on her hip, and she thinks it feels a little like encouragement.

“Well,” she starts softly, resuming her gentle strokes through his hair. “You’re right, it’s a sore spot. The thing itself is something that I know I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life, and I can deal with it. But whenever people find out, they only ever acknowledge the thing itself. They don’t acknowledge all the complicated feelings that come with it. 

“It isn’t a choice I wanted to make,” she goes on. “And if I’d had the ability to choose otherwise, I would have. People who have gotten to choose - and who still can - don’t seem to understand that. So when they say things like ‘you’re not missing anything’ and ‘you’re lucky you still have your freedom,’ it just ends up feeling like… like they’re invalidating how I really feel and telling me how they think I should feel instead.” She pauses. “Enjoying the life that I have now and feeling like I’m missing out on that thing I can’t have aren’t mutually exclusive, you know?”

“I get it,” Suguru muses. “Kinda like somebody who insinuates you should be relieved that your chronically ill parent has finally died. Like, yeah, taking care of them and being worried all the time while they’re alive and sick is stressful and emotionally draining. But it doesn’t mean you want them to die, and it doesn’t mean you don’t miss them when they do.”

Stunned, she stares down at him. “Huh. Actually, yeah. That’s a pretty accurate comparison.”

Suguru is quiet for a long time. When he finally speaks, it isn’t to tease her or to make fun of what she’s told him. “Now that I know how you really feel about it,” he starts quietly, “I don’t think it’s something I could ever joke about. And I’m doubly sorry for making light of it before.”

She hates that there’s a lump in her throat, and so she speaks before that lump can manifest itself in tears. “Why are you being so sweet to me?”

“I told you I was giving you the princess treatment today.”

“Right,” she recalls. “It doesn’t hurt to make them feel special, even if they’re not. That’s what you said.” 

He isn’t expecting her to throw his earlier words back at him that way, and it catches him off-guard. “Why do you always remember the dumb shit I say?”

“Was it dumb?”

“It wasn’t absolute,” he mumbles. He pauses, knowing that if he says what he wants to say next, he’ll kick himself for it. 

He says it anyway. “Sometimes one slips through the cracks, you know,” he adds softly. “Sometimes, there’s one that really is special.”

His words hit her right in her chest, hard enough to make her take a deep breath. It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask - am I special? She bites the words back, unsure if she’d even want to know the answer. 

“Come on,” Suguru says, when it’s clear she isn’t going to speak. He sits up, taking hold of her hands.

“Where are we going?”

“You’re gonna wait for me in the shower while I change your sheets,” he tells her, pulling her up into a sitting position. “Unless you wanna sleep in a bed full of my sweat and cum,” he adds with a smirk. “Some people have a thing for that.”

“Wait for you?” She repeats, choosing to ignore the latter part of what he’s said. She lets him pull her off of the bed, lets him maneuver his rumpled shirt over her head so she can have something to give her a bit of warmth and some semblance of decency. 

Suguru himself doesn’t seem to care about warmth or decency as he begins stripping the bed of its sheets in only his skin. “Mmhm,” he murmurs patiently, pausing to push her in the direction of the bathroom on the other side of her bedroom. “I won’t be long. Run the water, yeah? Make sure it’s warm, and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Stop reading into it, she scolds herself. This is all routine for him. “Right,” she laughs. “It always takes at least ten minutes for it to get hot.”

He makes an affirming noise and turns his attention back to the bed. She stands there for a moment longer - enjoying the view, she would say if anyone asks her - before turning away. 

--

He finds her in the bathroom a few minutes later. “Is it hot?” He nods in the direction of the shower. 

“Yeah.” She’s feeling suddenly awkward, ridiculously bashful. “Do you want to go first, or should I?”

Puzzled, Suguru looks back at her. “If I wanted separate showers, I would’ve just showered in my own bathroom,” he points out. “I told you to wait for me so we could go in together,” he adds, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for the two of them to co-shower. 

“I know how to bathe myself,” she retorts. “I’m not a kid.”

“Good, because I don’t fuck kids,” he snickers. “What I do do, however, is make sure the adults I fuck are well-taken care of. Both in bed and outside of it,” he adds, tilting his head and leaning close so he can look her directly in the eye. “So you can either climb into the shower yourself, or I can lift you up and put you there. Whatever you like.”

She stays where she is long enough to say, “You said doodoo.” 

His palm just misses her ass as she scurries away. 

--

Showering is a functional thing; she knows that it’s meant to serve the purpose of getting a body clean. Even though she’s taken showers with lovers before (should she think of Suguru as a lover? While it’s true that they’ve had sex, she is hesitant to bestow that title on him just yet), she has never viewed anything about the act of showering in itself as sexy.

But she would be hard-pressed to deny that there is something incredibly erotic about the way her roommate-turned-bedfellow handles her in the shower. His touch is gentle, her washcloth an extension of his hands as he bathes her. Nothing that he does is designed to arouse her, but she finds herself marveling at how the way he’s touching her feels almost more intimate than what they’ve just done in her bed.

“You’re good at this,” she tells him, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the steady stream of water coming out of both showerheads. 

“I know,” he asserts, a smug expression on his face. “Aren’t you glad you waited for me?”

She leans forward, sinking her teeth into one of his pectorals. It isn’t meant to hurt, just to shut him up, and he yelps. Satisfied, she leans back to look at the faint little bite marks left behind.

“Haven’t you marked me up enough?” He grouses.

“I could say the same about you,” she shoots back. “It’s a good thing I wasn’t planning on wearing anything low-cut to work tomorrow.” 

“Dummy,” he laughs, reaching for the washcloth he’d brought in for himself. “You work from home. Who would see you anyway?”

She shrugs. “Zooms are still a thing, you know.” She watches him pour her peony-scented body wash onto his washcloth. “You’re gonna smell like me,” she warns.

“Where am I going that anybody would care? You like it enough to have it, and you’re the only one who’s gonna smell me.”

“Good point.” She watches him lather himself up for a few minutes longer. Then, “Let me help.”

He obliges her. When she gets to his back, she pauses. The scratches weren’t enough to draw blood, but she can see that she did end up breaking the skin in a few places. She’s careful when washing those spots, trying to emulate the gentle way he’d cleaned her. 

Suguru goes quiet for the duration of the time they’re in the shower, and she wonders what he’s thinking about.

--

“I don’t need that,” he protests, keeping his elbow raised to block her approach. 

“It takes six seconds for your skin to dry out once you’ve washed your face.” She’s brandishing one of her high-end skincare products like a weapon. “You should at least moisturize it.” 

“I don’t need it,” he repeats stubbornly.

“I beg to differ,” she sighs. “You may not see the difference right now, but you will in five or ten years.” 

He rolls his eyes at her but says nothing. Nor does he lower his arm.

“Suguru,” she huffs, exasperated. “You can’t expect to pamper me and not let me do the same for you.”

He looks down at her. “Is that what this is?” He motions to the bottle of moisturizer in her hand. “Is this your version of aftercare?”

“If I say yes, will you let me put it on you?”

She thinks he’s going to say no again. To her mild shock and utter delight, he lowers his defense arm and sits obediently on the closed toilet lid. “Fine,” he assents. “But just this once.”

“That’s what they all say,” she grins. “I’ll have you hooked on Dermalogica in no time.”

She treats his skin exactly the way she’s treated her own post-cleanse: toner, moisturizer, eye cream, and serum. She applies each product carefully, her touch gentle as she uses the pads of her fingers to massage the liquids and creams into his skin. 

“You do this every night?” He asks when she’s done, watching her line the bottles back up in the organizer on her vanity.

“Yep,” she tells him, her attention focused on what she’s doing. “Morning has a slightly different routine.”

He’s still sitting on the closed toilet lid. She’s within reach, straightening the other bottles and tubes in her organizer. It would be so easy to wrap his arm around her waist and bring her nearer to him, to pull her down into his lap. To cradle her close so he can breathe in the smell of her hair and feel her soft skin against his once more. So he can register her heart beating against his chest and put one hand against her back to feel her breathing.

His hand actually twitches with the urge. Shit, he thinks, as he balls the hand into a fist. What the fuck is wrong with me?

--

Valerie finds it curious, the way they’ve picked right back up where they left off, like slipping on a pair of well-worn pants. Suguru takes out the leftover fried rice that they’d had the presence of mind to put in the fridge and dumps it into a pan for reheating while she scrolls through their shared streaming apps to find something they can watch while they eat.

She’s been sure that it would feel awkward to spend time together the way they normally do after what’s transpired between them. If it weren’t for the soreness in her legs and the burgeoning love bites on her neck and chest, she would wonder if what they did was simply a figment of her imagination. Just further proof you are not one of the special ones, her brain reminds her, unsolicited. You never are, remember?

“Shut up,” she mutters back at it.

“What was that?” Suguru calls from the kitchen. “Couldn’t hear you.”

“I was just asking what you’re in the mood to watch,” she calls back.

“Pick whatever you want. All that stuff in the community queues is stuff we both wanted to watch, so it doesn’t really matter to me.”

She finally settles on a lighthearted comedy they’ve both watched before. It’s an old favorite and one that doesn’t require their full attention to follow. He seems pleased with what she’s chosen when he finally joins her, handing her a bowl and a spoon and settling next to her with his own food. 

Halfway through the third episode, she mutters, “I usually put on my headphones, you know.” 

Suguru turns to look at her, amused. “Is this a conversation I’m invited to join, or should I leave the room and let you continue?” He asks, pausing the show.

“I was talking to you,” she sighs. “You asked me - earlier - if I was gonna pretend I’ve never heard you jerking off.” She shrugs, fiddling with the blanket in her lap. “I have, but whenever I know you are, I just put my noise cancelers on for a while.”

“Why?”

She stares at him. “Because that’s private. It’s not something I should listen to.” 

“Maybe not.” He laughs. “But are you saying you wanted to?”

“Suguru.”

“What? It’s a fair question, isn’t it?” He shifts on the sofa, turning to face her full-on. 

“Actually, it isn’t,” she huffs with a laugh. 

“Can’t be that you’re embarrassed,” he goes on. He leans forward, a teasing smirk on his face and his eyes trained on hers. “You let me put a part of my body inside yours. Actually,” he amends thoughtfully, “I’ve had several parts of my body inside yours.” 

“You get on my damn nerves.” She snatches both bowls up and gets up to carry them into the kitchen. 

Of course he follows her. “You still didn’t say yes or no,” he insists. 

Valerie turns to him, offering him her sweetest smile. “It will be a cold day in hell before I do that, Suguru.” 

“Hmm.” He leans back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, watching her load the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “I think the fact that you refuse to answer me is probably an answer within itself.”

“Fuck off.”

It only makes him laugh. “Fine,” he says finally. “You don’t have to tell me. But until you say otherwise, I’m just gonna assume the answer is yes.” 

Once again there are words threatening to escape her; she wants to tell him that he’s right, that she does want to hear him jerking himself off. But more than that, she wants it to be her he’s thinking of when he wraps his hand around himself and thrusts into his fist. She wants it to be her face he’s seeing when he closes his eyes, when he’s putting himself in danger of going lightheaded because it feels so good he’s forgetting to breathe. 

She says none of those things. “Keep dreaming,” she says, flashing him another sweet smile. “Let’s go - the tv’s probably timed out on us.” 

Something unreadable passes across his face, too quick for her to identify it. After the split second that she sees it, he smiles casually back at her, and whatever was beneath the mask he now wears is lost forever. “Yeah.”

About Me | My Fics | Ask

[lunehong]

Tethered

college student! Jongho X college student! fem oc

Soulmate AU, just cuteness and fluff

warnings : mentions of anxiety, illness, pregnancy.

word count : 6.9k

synopsis : what happens when your soulmate bond is finally activated but it doesn't fall under any of the existing types? Jongho and Yunhee try to establish their connection with no clue and minimal examples to follow. Would they succeed in meeting each other and seal the bond or would they fall gradually ill?

a/n : okay so my first ever oneshot, and I'm glad I could write one for our baby bear jjong cuz there aren't many jongho fics on here PLUS I miss him so much :(( I hope he's recovering well and also his birthday is coming up next month! feedback is always appreciated!

----- A reblog would mean the world to me <33 ------

Yesterday was Yunhee’s 18th birthday, which meant that she was finally an adult according to society’s standards. It also meant that she could watch netflix shows that were adult rated without feeling guilty about her age and of course, call chronically online minors out on their behaviour as someone who’d automatically be deemed more mature and responsible.

However, this also entailed that her soulmate bond was activated. 

Yunhee did feel a tingly sensation and the butterflies in her stomach like the others said she would, but after that everything went back to normal. No tattoos were etched onto her body, nor did she see a flash of her soulmate’s face in her mind and there was no response when she thought of a bunch of things to test if they had telepathy. 

She really didn’t know what went wrong but it made her anxious. Also the fact that she had no way of knowing if something happened to her soulmate, as their soulmate bond was still unidentified. 

“You should really calm down, Yunhee.” said Minha, her best friend of 7 years. 

“What if I don’t find him soon enough? We have to meet each other as soon as possible after our soulmate bond has been activated or else we’d both gradually fall ill! Don’t you remember what happened to Nina and her boyfriend?” Yunhee muttered anxiously. 

“It has only been a day! I don’t understand why you’re panicking so much. Give it a week and if there’s still nothing after that, then we can panic.” She concluded.

Taking her best friend’s advice, Yunhee decided to leave the matters into her soulmate’s hands, thinking if she was frantically trying out different confirmation methods, it was safe to assume that he was also doing the same. 

“Dude, I’m telling you, your soulmate bond is telepathy! There isn’t any other type that matches!”  Wooyoung exclaimed, while flailing his hands around to prove his point. 

“But I haven’t heard anything from my soulmate so far! Nor do I know if the things I thought reached her!” Jongho yelled back. 

“Okay… Well, try again later! Don’t give up on this, because I’m a hundred percent sure it’s telepathy of some sort even if it isn’t the common one.” Wooyoung got up to leave. 

“How are you so sure? Are you a soulmate specialist or something?” Jongho scoffed at him. 

Wooyoung smiled at that. “Remember how my soulmate bond was telepathy?” Jongho nodded, “I never told anyone this but, mine wasn’t your typical telepathy… It was one-sided.”

“What? No way!” Jongho stared at him in disbelief.

“Yes, our bond was such that I couldn’t hear anything from her but she could hear everything I thought about. I was ready to give up when I got this idea and decided to give it a last shot.” Wooyoung continued.

“What did you do?” Jongho asked.

“I sat down and started revealing my full name, my social media handles, my address and other details in my head, so if there really was anyone listening they’d know how to find me. She showed up on my doorstep with my favourite snacks not long after. The rest is history.” Wooyoung grinned while recalling the memory. 

“How the hell did we not know this before? It’s literally a story worth telling!” 

“Yes, I’m aware but the topic never came up and I can’t just randomly reveal that my soulmate bond was flawed you know?” Wooyoung tried to reason with Jongho. 

“Okay, fine I got it. I’ll try thinking of different things and hope it’ll reach my soulmate somehow” Jongho sighed, giving in.

“That’s the spirit! Let me and the other guys know if you feel anything and I’ll see you later. Bye!” 

Jongho headed to bed early that day, feeling exhausted. As he was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, an idea came to him. ‘What if I focus on one topic to think about instead of multiple things at once? It might be a more organised approach and less strenuous for my brain.’ 

So he sat up and started consciously thinking about one topic, but phrased them in various ways. 

‘What is your name?’ He waited a bit but there wasn’t a response. 

“At least I know this won't work,” he said out loud. 

‘Can you tell me your name?’

 No response.

“Okay, that’s crossed out too then. How else can I phrase it…”

 If anyone saw him then, they’d think he had gone mad by the way he was talking to himself.

‘Could you speak your name?’

‘Could you spell your name?’

‘Could you trace your name on your hand?’

Jongho tried phrasing it as many ways as he could, even if some sounded ridiculous. 

‘Telleth me thy name.’

 He paused before laughing at himself. 

“So, Shakespearean English is crossed out too it seems.” 

When he ran out of all the ‘tell’, ‘spell’, ‘speak’ and ‘think’ questions he took a different route. 

‘Can you write your name?’

No response. 

Jongho yawned, feeling sleepy. Lying back down on the bed, he tried thinking of a few more sentences before deciding to continue again the next day. 

‘Could you write your name on paper?’ 

No response. 

“Okay, then” he said.

‘Write your name down on paper for me please?’ 

He paused, just about to fall asleep. 

That was when the most unexpected thing happened to him.

Yunhee was tossing and turning in bed, unable to fall asleep. She had just finished her college assignment, due the next day and all the stress she took for it made her extremely tired. 

Assuming sleep would come easy to her, she finished her nighttime routine and headed to bed. But alas, sleep was nowhere to be found. It was one of those days where her body was tired but her mind was wide awake and she despised when that happened because it meant that she would not be able to fall asleep anytime soon. 

She started counting sheep in her head as a last resort.

 When she was on her 29th sheep, Yunhee heard something resonate in her head. The first noise sounded like an incoherent crackle and she almost dismissed it as her mind playing tricks, when she clearly heard a soothing male voice telling her to write her name on paper. 

She sat up on her bed abruptly and tried to reach out to the guy, but to no avail. Her heart was beating very fast at the prospect of finally receiving a telepathic message. She was able to hear her soulmate’s voice and it was a feeling like no other. 

After waiting a bit, she decided to do what the voice told her to: write her name on paper. 

Yunhee got up, retrieving her notebook and a pen from the desk. Sitting back down on the bed once again, she opened the notebook to an empty page and scribbled her name on it. She also wrote “What is your name?” underneath.

She waited for a bit in case another message came through but there were no other responses. 

Yunhee was completely unable to sleep that night. 

Jongho couldn’t believe what he just saw. It was like a flash that only lasted for a few seconds, but he saw a vision through someone else’s eyes. He saw a hand pick up a light blue notebook with the words “hakuna matata” written in a corner with golden ink. The hand also picked up a pen and wrote down something in the notebook. What it wrote, Jongho couldn’t make out because the writing became hazy and blurry. He could only read out ‘Park’ and the writing underneath that said ‘what is your name?’.

He was sure the person wrote her name down but he could only read her surname. 

Jongho felt something unexplainable in his gut. He was finally able to reach his soulmate, even though he couldn’t see her name. Thinking about the vision brought out a sense of longing inside him. He wanted to see more, feel more and know more about her, but he didn’t yet know how.

 ‘At least this is progress’ he thought. ‘I need to tell the others about this and figure out what I should do next.’

The doorbell rang but the sound went unheard by the group of guys inside the apartment. The person standing outside got impatient after a while, and had to bang on the door to gain everyone’s attention. 

“Geez, Hongjoong-hyung why are you banging on the door like that? The bell exists for a reason.” Wooyoung tsked while opening the door for him.

“I rang the bell like 10 times already! None of you brats could hear it over the noise pollution! I swear y’all can be heard from down the hallway!” Hongjoong yelled at him. 

“Cut us some slack though, Hongjoong. We met up after almost a month!” Seonghwa reasoned with him. 

The seven guys excluding Jongho made themselves comfortable in Jongho’s living room, catching up with each other. Meanwhile, the resident of the apartment arranged some refreshments for the eight of them, bringing them over to the living area before plopping down between Yeosang and Mingi. 

“So let’s come to the reason why I called you guys here–” 

“You called us for a reason!?” San fake gasped. 

“You wouldn’t have invited us if you didn’t have a use for us!?” Yunho butted in. 

“Guys let the poor boy speak! I can kinda guess what it’s about.” Wooyoung tried to defend Jongho. 

“Yes, thank you Wooyoung-hyung. The reason why I called you here is because I was able to contact my soulmate yesterday and I still don’t know what type of bond this is.” 

At the revelation, everyone started yelling over each other and asking questions, of which Jongho was unable to decipher a single sentence.

The seven looked like a bunch of chattering baby birds that wanted food from its mother. He sighed and shook his head, thinking how the people in front of him were supposed to be older in age. 

“Guys, one at a time!” he yelled. 

“Okay, so it’s telepathy right?” Wooyoung asked.

“Yes and no.” Jongho paused to sort out what he wanted to say, “It’s telepathy, yes, because I consciously thought of something and it went through. But, only one kind of conscious thought out of all the other ones I tried to send, elicited a response.”

“That’s…weird?” Hongjoong muttered. 

“And not just that, hyung. The response I received was in the form of a glimpse, showing me a vision through my soulmate’s eyes!”

“What?” exclaimed Mingi.

“So, it’s not just telepathy, it’s specific and supposedly one sided, while you receive sporadic glimpses through your soulmate’s eyes. That’s a very odd combination.” Wooyoung said, in deep thought. 

“This is more complicated than yours was, hyung.” Jongho muttered.

“What do you mean?” Yeosang questioned, being able to hear what he said. 

Jongho proceeded to tell them all the details regarding what he thought and what he saw in the glimpse, meanwhile not forgetting to expose Wooyoung and how he hid such crucial information about his own experience. The rest reprimanded Wooyoung for it, making him sulk, but they also collectively tried to figure out exactly how the bond worked. 

“What happened!” Minha burst into Yunhee’s place, panting like she just ran a marathon. 

“Why hello there best friend, why do you look as if you got chased by a dog?” Hayoon, their other best friend, asked sarcastically. 

“Dude? I came here as fast as I could! I got Yunhee’s text a while ago that said ‘EMERGENCY’ in all caps! I thought some code blue shit happened to her!” Minha exclaimed.

“Wow, and I thought the text I received was bad… she sent, ‘come over, I have something to say’ that made me rush here because I thought she was pregnant or something, which would’ve been really bad considering her soulmate bond just activated.” Hayoon laughed. 

At that very moment, Yunhee walked in with tubs of ice cream, suddenly feeling like she entered a lion’s den. The two girls yelled at her for being so dramatic over nothing but calmed down once she handed them their favourite ice cream. 

“So, the reason I sent those ‘dramatic’ texts as you two so eloquently put it, is because I got contacted by my soulmate and I freaked out.” Yunhee revealed while rolling her eyes.

“What?” Minha yelled. 

“When? How?” Hayoon followed. 

“At night yesterday! I was trying to sleep after finishing the assignment and that’s when I heard his voice in my head telling me to write my name on paper. I don’t know why that was so specific but yeah I did as he said.” 

“Did you hear anything in return?” Hayoon inquired.

“No, unfortunately. That was the only thing that came through.” Yunhee sulked. 

“But hey! You got contacted by your soulmate! So we are sure that nothing happened to him and he’s probably trying to figure out how the bond works as well right?” Minha tried to cheer her up like the mom she was, unable to see her kid sad.

“Yeah, that’s true. I hope he figures it out though because I’m at a dead end here.” 

“I’m sure he’ll figure it out! We currently have nothing to do but trust him and cheer him on. So don’t stress too much, Yuns. Stay alert and just wait for him to make the connection again.” Hayoon exclaimed, in a cheery voice. 

“Exactly! Let’s trust him on this one and we can think more about it when he manages to contact you again. Meanwhile, tell us how he sounded! What did you feel?” Minha shook Yunhee in excitement. 

So, the three girls spent the rest of their time discussing the interaction and other’s soulmate experiences while they enjoyed their ice cream.

Jongho recalled the conversation that he had with the guys earlier, who managed to come up with a few hypothetical situations for him to experiment. 

He sat down on his desk with a notebook before him, taking notes like he would for a science class. The guys did have a few different ideas but Hongjoong’s idea made the most sense to Jongho. 

Hongjoong proposed that the message that went through was a command rather than a suggestion or a question. And what Jongho received as a glimpse was the completion of said task that got sent as a command. 

So what Jongho had to do was make his soulmate do tasks for him and if it worked out every time, then eventually find a way for them to meet face to face. 

He relaxed himself and thought of a task for her to do. 

“Okay, so I know that I’d probably not be able to know her name or see what she looks like through the bond so I can’t ask anything related to that.” He spoke out loud. 

After thinking for a while, Jongho got an idea. He decided to send his soulmate to her favourite cafe and order her favourite drink. In this way he’ll be able to figure out which cafe she frequented and what drink she liked as well. 

‘Go to your favourite cafe and order your favourite drink first thing in the morning.’ He thought, hoping that his soulmate heard it. 

“Did it sound too rude? But I can’t send anything other than a command and commands don’t particularly sound nice though.” He spoke to himself again while scratching his head.

Before he could overthink more, Jongho wrote down what he said and headed to bed as he had classes to attend the next day. 

Taking a last minute impulsive decision, Minha and Hayoon chose to stay the night at Yunhee’s house. The three slept over at each other’s places quite often, making it a regular occurrence in their lives. Yunhee let her mother know about it and she told her to grab the extra mattress that they had for such occasions. 

While she was dragging the mattress to her room, she heard a crackle resonate in her mind like the last time. Yunhee dropped the mattress, focusing intently to see if her soulmate’s voice came through. 

Minha was walking back with a glass of water when she spotted her by the living room standing as if she saw a ghost while the mattress was abandoned on the floor.

“Yuns, what happened–” 

“Shush! I think I’m getting another message.” Yunhee quickly cut her off. 

Indeed, the soothing voice she heard the first time spoke to her again, making the darn butterflies in her stomach return to torment her. She unconsciously smiled, the emotions that hearing her soulmate’s voice evoked in her being all very new. 

Minha stared at her from the side, relating with the lovesick look on her friend’s face all too well. 

“Go to your favourite cafe… and order your favourite drink first thing in the morning?” Yunhee repeated what her soulmate said to her out loud. She looked at Minha, tilting her head in obvious confusion.  

“That’s what he said?” Minha looked equally perplexed. 

“What is taking you two so long– why are y’all standing there with the mattress on the floor?” Hayoon came out of her room to check on the two. 

Minha told her what happened while they dragged the mattress to Yunhee’s room. They sat down to think why her soulmate would send in yet another oddly specific message asking her to do something. 

“You know what I think?” Hayoon said in a serious tone, unlike her usual carefree demeanour, “The only form of message he can send are the ones that tell Yunhee to do something. ‘Cause think about it! He probably already tried saying the common stuff like ‘what is your name’ or ‘where do you live’ like we telepathy types did, but in our case all the things we tried to send went through.” 

 Yunhee and Minha looked at each other for a few seconds before directing their attention back to Hayoon, who was raising her eyebrows at them. 

“Wow dude, what’s up with you? You’re actually making sense today!” Yunhee exclaimed with fake enthusiasm while patting Hayoon on the shoulder, who rolled her eyes and pointed her middle finger towards Yunhee in return.

“Yeah! But Yoon’s right. Can’t relate though, ‘cause I was the tattoo type but she has a point. And I also think that he can somehow sense if you have done the given task or not or else he wouldn’t have any way of knowing if his messages are going through.” Minha added while laughing at Hayoon.

“I mean, the task is simple enough. I do visit cafe Aurora before heading to class anyway, so it won’t be anything out of the ordinary, I guess.” Yunhee muttered. 

The three girls started their movie marathon, when Minha’s phone rang. It was a facetime call from her soulmate Changbin, who was also their childhood friend since middle school. 

When Minha turned 18, which was three months back, she invited all her friends to attend the party, including Changbin. He was out of town that week so he couldn’t attend her birthday party. 

The tattoo that appeared on Minha’s wrist was supposed to be the first thing her soulmate told her after it was activated, which said, “Happy birthday! Sorry I couldn’t make it, Min.” 

 Minha looked absolutely bewildered while Yunhee and Hayoon laughed at it like maniacs. She got teased by the other two the entire day, while she tried to appear nonchalant about it. 

When they were younger, Minha never liked the concept of soulmates and always complained about the idea of getting paired up with a complete stranger for the rest of their lives as it seemed unnerving to her. But when she realised that her soulmate might be good old Changbin, she didn’t hate the idea anymore. It was true that Minha never saw him as anything more than a friend but he was an amazing guy and she did think he’d make a good partner. 

At night she received a call from him and indeed, the first thing he said was “Happy birthday! Sorry I couldn’t make it, Min.” 

Minha laughed and said, “Thanks, idiot.” when it dawned upon Changbin as well that his soulmate was none other than Minha.

 They met up when Changbin returned (he basically scrambled to return as fast as he could) and made it official.

 Among Yunhee’s friends, Minha and Changbin were probably the fastest soulmates to seal the bond which made a lot of them jealous because of how easy it was for them to find each other. 

Back to the present, Changbin facetimed Minha who received the call. 

“Hey Min, are you staying over at Yunhee’s today?” 

“Yep. Sudden decision.”

“Oh okay, have fun! And pass the phone to Yunhee please.” Changbin spoke. 

Yunhee peeked from the back and waved at him. 

“You! What were you thinking when you sent a text like that, dumbass? Who sends ‘EMERGENCY’ and dips without explaining what happened?” He exclaimed.

“Ugh, okay fine sorry. I won’t send texts like that again. I got nagged enough by these two, I don’t need you to add anything to it, Binnie.” Yunhee whined. 

“At least you’re fine and dandy so I’ll spare your ass today. How's the soulmate situation going?” 

They told him everything that happened and gossiped with him for a few more minutes before hanging up. 

Yunhee left to talk to her parents about something, only to come back to the room with her brows furrowed at the screen of her phone. 

“Uh, Yoonie? Why is Eric texting me saying if I decided to keep the baby or not, and if I did he’ll help me convince my soulmate to keep it too?” 

At this, Hayoon and Minha looked at each other, before they burst out laughing. Yunhee was still looking at them in bewilderment but the two were not being able to stop. 

After two minutes of them laughing without break and Yunhee standing like the clown that she was, they finally stopped. 

“Remember the text that you sent me? I showed it to Eric and he was the one who said ‘why does she sound like she’s going to announce her pregnancy or something’ and we realised that it could be a possibility, because dude, everyone knows that you write paragraphs when you text. So, such a thing was not to be taken lightly.” Hayoon shrugged.

At this Yunhee threw a pillow at her, yelling how her love life was as barren as the Sahara desert (because she couldn’t fall for anyone else when the thought of having a soulmate later in life hit her) and how she and her soulmate shared the same braincell. 

“Come on! At least he’s supportive!” Hayoon defended Eric.

“Yeah yeah, I can see that. Let me call him and explain the whole thing, or else he’ll start preparing to be an uncle.”

Eric was Hayoon’s soulmate that she met 3 weeks after her 18th birthday. They were the telepathy type, being able to contact each other almost immediately after the soulmate bond was activated.

The two had a few bumps on the road, as Eric wasn’t cooperative in the beginning. The reason being that he liked this other girl and he couldn’t accept the fact that his soulmate was someone else. But the said girl found her soulmate a week after, which finally pushed Eric to move on and seek his own soulmate. 

Minha and Yunhee didn’t like him, as he made their best friend suffer and put her at risk of getting ill due to the unsealed bond, but he redeemed himself eventually. Now they were a pretty wholesome couple.

After clearing the misunderstanding, they resumed the movie marathon, falling asleep in the midst of it. 

Jongho didn’t feel like getting up. It was a cold winter morning, which made sleeping under the warmth of the duvet all the more enticing. But he had to wake up as he had an important class to attend that day. 

He reached college early, so he was waiting inside the classroom when he saw it.

a glimpse of an awfully familiar cafe. He was able to hear her voice this time, when she spoke to order a regular hot mocha. A shiver ran down his body when he heard it, realising how sweet her voice sounded to him. Keeping his emotions at bay, he noticed two very familiar faces through the glimpse before it ended. 

“Cafe Aurora, huh.” He smiled to himself. His soulmate was nearer to him than he thought. 

As he entered through the door in a hurry to get away from the cold, Jongho noticed that the cafe was busier than usual. He figured that it was due to the freezing weather outside, while the cafe provided the warmth everyone including himself was seeking. 

Upon reaching the front he spotted Soobin behind the cashier counter, taking orders like he usually does with a smile on his face. Beomgyu was in the middle calling out names and distributing drinks while San was at the back making them for the customers. 

He eventually spotted Jongho and called another worker to take his place, so that he could go greet his friend. 

“Jongho? Fancy seeing you here.” San spoke up in a playful tone. 

“Why? Can’t I visit my dear hyung during his shift?” Jongho retaliated. 

“No, of course you can but you usually don’t frequent this place. Remember when you told me it was far from your house and you already found another place to get your iced americano from?” San raised his eyebrows making Jongho avert his gaze.

“Okay, fine! You got me there. I came here to ask you something.” he pouted. 

“Ei, don’t feel bad! I was teasing you! But do visit me more often from now okay? What did you want to ask?” San laughed while patting his back.

“So, I saw another glimpse this morning. I’ll tell you the details later but I think Hongjoong hyung’s theory worked. Can you tell me if you remember any girl, possibly a regular here, ordering hot mocha around 8 am?” 

“I make the drinks dude, I wouldn’t know. Hey, Gyu? Can you come over for a sec?” San yelled. 

Beomgyu, who finally got to breathe after distributing the drinks, clicked his tongue and walked over to where the two were standing. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” 

“Do you remember any regular female customer that came today around 8 am to order a hot mocha?” San asked him.

“Okay first of all, I have been distributing over hundreds of drinks, at least 30 of which were hot mochas. And if we are talking about 8 am then a lot of people came in to get their morning fix before college so I don’t think I can help you.” He paused.

“You could check the server but I doubt that would be of any help either, because a lot of female regular customers order hot mochas in the morning so…” Beomgyu shrugged. 

“Okay thanks, Gyu. We’ll figure something out.” San sighed.

“Why? Did anyone take a drink without paying again?” Beomgyu inquired in a concerned voice. 

“No, no. We’re trying to find Jongho’s soulmate.” San and Jongho laughed at Beomgyu’s expression.

“Oh, thank god. Good luck searching for her, bro.” Beomgyu gave Jongho a thumbs up before resuming his work. 

San looked at Jongho, who was deep in thought. 

“How’d you know she came to Aurora?” 

“Oh, come on hyung, I’d recognise the interior anywhere! Plus, she gave her order to Soobin and you were at the back making drinks. I saw you two in the glimpse.” Jongho poked San in the shoulders, making him swat his hand away. 

“Moreover, I think I found out how the bond works. So, I’ll increase contact and try to get her to meet me somehow.”

“That’s the spirit! I know you’ll succeed Jongho-yah.” San said with a proud look on his face. 

He asked Jongho if he still wanted to order an iced americano in a weather like that, to which he said yes. San shook his head at the boy but proceeded to make him what he wanted, yelling how he wouldn’t take any responsibility if Jongho caught a cold later. 

He just smiled and gestured at him to continue making the drink.

Two days have passed since Yunhee received the last message from her soulmate. She was trying not to think about it, distracting herself with other things but every now and then her mind would fleet to the honey-like voice which evoked an unexplainable sense of longing in her. She wanted to hear his voice again.

During breaks, the trio made a point to gather whenever their schedules coincided, to catch up and complain about college, even though it was just their freshman year. 

Yunhee was walking towards their hangout spot with Hayoon when she felt like another message was coming through. She stopped walking and tapped Hayoon on the shoulder to do the same. 

The now familiar voice reverberated in her head saying “Write the name of your favourite flower on your notebook.” 

She stood there with a faraway look in her eyes, while the girl beside her extended and retracted her hand awkwardly, not knowing if she should shake her best friend or not. 

Hayoon didn’t have to suffer in indecisiveness for long, as Minha approached them and did the job for her by back hugging Yunhee, bringing her out of her trance.

“Why are you two standing here? Let’s go.” 

“Wait, Yunhee received another telepathic message. What is it bro?” Hayoon asked Yunhee. 

“He asked me to write the name of my favourite flower. What is he up to?” 

“It’s just flowers Yunhee, he probably wanted to know basic stuff like that so that he can be prepared when he finally meets you.” Minha reasoned.

“Okay let’s go sit, so that I can write it down.” 

The three headed to their hangout place. As soon as Yunhee sat down, she reached for her bag to bring the notebook out. She opened it and wrote, ‘sunflowers, but pink roses are great too’ after much thought. 

The other two teased her saying they already knew she was going to write sunflowers so she really didn’t have to ponder so much, but Yunhee disagreed by saying how she found all flowers pretty so it was hard for her to pick one.

The following day, Yunhee received another message that asked her to write yes in the notebook if she was available on the weekend and no if she wasn’t. 

She ended up writing a ‘YES’ in capital letters on her notebook that probably covered the whole page, out of sheer excitement. 

Jongho on the other hand received a glimpse of it, laughing at how adorable she was. It was as though he felt the excitement of his soulmate and that made him more eager and impatient to meet her. 

Yunhee immediately informed Hayoon and Minha about it, who were equally thrilled for their best friend and promised to help her get ready for the occasion. 

Weekend arrived faster than the two soulmates anticipated. Jongho made sure to send her a message saying “Go to cafe Aurora at 4pm” before he started preparing to meet her. 

He got ready at three and sent a message to his group chat asking which flower he should pick between sunflowers and pink roses. Most of them suggested him to buy both and get them arranged in a nice bouquet. 

What Jongho didn’t know, however, was that the seven were already camping at cafe Aurora (excluding San because it was his shift anyway) to watch the scene unfold. 

Yunhee finally finished getting ready with the help of her two best friends. She opted for a classy but casual look: flared jeans, puffy sleeved black top, minimal pearl accessories and light makeup. 

She kept stressing and overthinking about the entire situation like the worrywart she was. At first Minha and Hayoon were trying to reassure her and alleviate her concerns but after a while it became frustrating for them so they nagged her and threw her out of the house before it was too late.

Yunhee, although still anxious about the whole meeting up with her soulmate situation, took deep breaths and reminded herself how much she had been wanting to meet her soulmate for the past few days. After calming down a bit, she headed towards the cafe. 

Jongho arrived at the cafe, the bouquet of flowers in hand. It seemed as though he attracted quite a bit of attention, because of how big the assortment of flowers looked due to the big and vibrant sunflowers. He didn’t think much of it however, opting to find a suitable seat while he waited for his soulmate to arrive. 

San on the other hand, went inside the storage room upon Jongho’s arrival to alert the other six who were hiding in there. The guys were trying to find a suitable position to peek in through the door; bickering in low voices to prevent being seen. Yunho had to hold his hand over Wooyoung’s mouth in case he yelled unintentionally and gave out their position. 

Meanwhile, San explained the whole situation to Beomgyu and Soobin, who finally understood what was going on.

“Here goes nothing.” Yunhee muttered to herself while she pushed the door to the cafe open. Upon entering she noticed that the cafe was moderately busy– an unusual sight for her as she always visited early in the morning during the rush hour, when all the seats were occupied and a huge queue present.

She didn’t know what to look for as her soulmate hadn’t really mentioned anything that would help her identify him in the crowd, but she hoped that her ‘soulmate senses’ would assist her with it (if such a thing existed).

Soobin noticed her standing awkwardly by the door and called her.

“Hello! Yunhee, right?” he said. 

“Oh, hi! Yeah, I usually drop by before going to college. I’m glad you remember my name!” Yunhee was grateful to him for striking up a conversation. 

“You seemed like you were searching for someone. Do you perhaps need some help?” He inquired. 

“I was, actually! To be honest, I don’t know what he looks like.” she paused. “It’s… my soulmate and today is supposed to be our first meeting.” Yunhee said truthfully.

Upon hearing what she said, Soobin immediately yelled at San to come to the counter, who was standing at the back. 

Yunhee saw Soobin whisper something to his ear and he looked at her with his eyebrows raised in shock. He then moved back to allow the guy to stand in his place.

“Hi! I’m San and I usually handle making beverages at the back. Soobin here just told me that you are looking for your soulmate, is that right?” He asked politely. 

“Nice to meet you! And yeah, I am.” She replied. 

“Looks like we’ll meet each other more often from now on, Ms.Yunhee.” San said while smiling. “And you might want to look there, on the right side, where a guy is sitting with a huge bouquet of flowers. Good luck!” He instructed while pointing towards the table. 

Yunhee approached said table and immediately noticed the assortment of sunflowers and pink roses along with a few other flowers. She tapped on the table to get the guy’s attention, who was on his phone with his back to her.

Jongho looked up, only to find, arguably, the most beautiful girl he has ever laid eyes upon. He seemed to be in a trance, everything but the girl in front of him becoming a blur.

Yunhee wasn’t faring any better, feeling like her heart was beating out of her chest as she stared at the guy that was supposed to be her soulmate. 

Both of them felt like something clicked in place, like the final piece in a puzzle that they didn’t even know was missing all this time.

Jongho recovered first, standing up to move the bouquet so that Yunhee could sit in the seat in front of him. Once she settled down, he swiftly handed the flowers to her, to which she thanked him in a bashful way. 

“I did think your choice of flower was unique, but now that I saw you face to face, it suits you.” Jongho said, after clearing his voice. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks.” Yunhee replied. 

“I’m Jongho. Choi Jongho. Sophomore in college.” 

“Park Yunhee. Freshman.” 

“Yunhee… a pretty name for an even prettier person it seems.” Jongho replied playfully, making her blush. 

They carried their conversation, feeling quite relaxed and comfortable after a while. Yunhee asked him a bunch of different questions, as she couldn’t do that with their bond earlier and Jongho patiently answered every query that she had with a smile on his face, not missing to ask her some in return. 

The more they communicated, the more they realised how similar their values and preferences were, which dispelled all the concerns they had about liking each other.

Jongho got up to collect their order when he noticed the six heads peeking through a door in the distance. He made his way towards the door and swung it open, to see the six guys trying to hide behind carton boxes. 

Jongho folded his arms and glared at them while they stuttered trying to explain the situation. Meanwhile, San pretended he did not see anything and continued his work.

Being discovered already, the guys came out from the storage room and greeted Yunhee, who was taken aback at first but reciprocated their enthusiasm almost immediately. 

She could see how embarrassed Jongho looked because of them so she tried to console him by saying that her friends were like this too and they’d all get along really well once they met. 

The guys started leaving one by one, seeing how Jongho’s death glare was still quite evident and they didn’t want to be at the receiving end of their youngest’s wrath. 

Jongho sighed and apologised to Yunhee again for his friends’ sudden intrusion to which she was fine with and said that it was quite nice to meet the people he was close to.

They finished their beverages and chose to take a walk outside before heading home. 

As they were walking along the pavement, Jongho felt a sudden urge to hold her hand. He tried to appear nonchalant and brushed his hand with hers, to which Yunhee responded by grabbing his hand while looking the other way. 

As someone who hated skinship with all his being, Jongho didn’t quite fathom why he felt the need to initiate physical contact with the girl walking beside him. Something as simple as holding hands was making his emotions go haywire. 

'So this is what having a soulmate feels like.' Jongho thought. 

“Right? I always felt like it was a foreign concept to me, which I couldn’t relate to at all when the people around me shared their stories. But now that I’m experiencing it for myself, I get what they were saying.” Yunhee replied, while swinging their joint hands back and forth. 

Jongho looked at her, perplexed about how she knew what he was thinking when their soulmate bond was supposed to dissipate once they met; not to mention it wasn’t regular telepathy to begin with.

Yunhee glanced back at him, to see his head tilted endearingly towards her in confusion.

“You said that out loud, Jongho.” She pointed out while giggling at his expression. 

“Oh, I didn’t realise that.” Jongho turned his head away to hide his embarrassment but Yunhee noticed how red his ears were, making her chuckle again. He figured that he really loved how her laugh sounded. 

After their impromptu stroll, Jongho took Yunhee home. 

They were at the gate, when the girl turned around and held both of Jongho’s hands.

“I had a lovely time today, so thank you so much for that. Thank you for not giving up on me even after knowing how complicated it was trying to find how our bond worked, as I completely started depending on you after not having a single clue about it. I know that our life was kind of on the line too but still I’d like to express my gratitude. And also… thanks for not turning out a jerk I guess?” Yunhee ended with a mischievous smile, making Jongho laugh. 

“Then I’d also like to express my gratitude for the fact that you chose to trust me on this and I’m so glad that you’re my soulmate.” Jongho smiled warmly while squeezing her hands tighter. “Also, thanks for not being a snobbish Karen.” He ended with a wink. 

Both Yunhee and Jongho felt all warm inside just by looking at each other. Every emotion that they felt just by doing the bare minimum seemed heightened and it was a complete new experience for both of them. 

The day ended as Yunhee hugged Jongho despite him telling her he hated skinship, and surprisingly Jongho didn’t mind it and hugged her back. 

Yunhee promised to introduce her parents and friends to him some other day, to which Jongho wholeheartedly agreed, saying he’d do the same. 

At last they parted ways, Yunhee entering her house and Jongho on his way home even though they didn’t want the day to end. 

Unspoken promises of a life together at each other's side lingered on. A life, where they were bound to be together, chosen as each other’s counterparts by fate itself. No matter how many lives they lived, the red string of fate would always bring the destined souls to one another; such was the way of the universe.

[plague-of-insomnia]

WIP Wednesday: Sebardagni Post-Apocalyptic Domestic Sickfic AU

I know no one cares about this idea aside from me, but this is the first thing I’ve been able to write in months, and I really fucking need the escapism of Sebastian having two men taking care of him even when the world has fallen to pieces.

I have a few scenes for this written I may end up posting on AO3 later, but for now, enjoy this scene.

The concept for this AU is this: the world ended a few years ago, and Bard, Agni, and Sebastian have been surviving together. Sebastian is chronically ill, so he and Agni mind the homestead while Bard goes off on excursions for supplies. It’s not an easy life, but overall, they’re happy.

~#~

Sebastian balanced carefully. The forearm crutches Bard had fashioned for him fit better than anything he’d managed with since the world collapsed and meant he wouldn’t do just that onto the floor—even if his muscles were weak.

He’d finally managed a few hours’ sleep, exhaustion and one of Agni’s herbal treatments helping to ease his breathing long enough to dream.

And what a dream it was. He couldn’t wait to hurry out of the small bedroom they shared in this tiny mountain cabin and tell Agni about it. As bittersweet as it was, it had felt so wonderfully real, he could almost ignore the perpetual tightness in his chest.

“Agni! Agni!” Sebastian cautiously eased the door open.

The cabin was cozy, a main room with a fireplace, kitchen, and sitting area, a bedroom and bath, and a cellar Sebastian couldn’t access—too many stairs— where they stored food for the winter.

The fire illuminated the room as Agni worked. From the way the orange sun had colored the bedroom, Sebastian suspected it was evening, which would mean Agni would likely be busy prepping their dinner.

Things had been harder lately, since Bard had been gone for weeks now—73 days, exactly, not that Sebastian had been counting—but they made do. Agni wasn’t as skilled a huntsman as Bard, but between their garden, preserved stores, chickens and goats, they managed. Agni had to coax Sebastian more often than not to eat as it was, so he barely dented their food stocks.

“I dreamed Bard came home and he found me medicine, and—“ Sebastian’s voice cut out immediately as he realized he heard Agni speaking to someone. And then he saw him. “Bard?”

The man was perched on a stool at the kitchen island, looking ragged and thinner than Sebastian remembered, but very much not a dream or a ghost.

“You’re alive?!” Sebastian’s eyes filled and he pushed himself to move as fast as he possibly could, dropping his arms from his crutches so he could throw them around his lover. “Agni and I were worried you were never coming home.”

Bard’s strong arms supported Sebastian in their embrace so he wouldn’t lose his footing, enjoying this connection. He smelt like tobacco and sweat and days out on the road, but more than anything, like hope.

Sebastian didn’t even care if Bard hadn’t been able to find any medicine for him. He was just so relieved he began to sob as weeks of emotions he’d been damming up broke free.

“Hey, hey, you’ll make your breathing worse. I’m all right. I missed you both and thinking of getting back here to you kept me going. You know I don’t die easy.”

Sebastian’s legs ached, and Bard sensed his growing instability and helped him sit down beside him. A moment later, Agni set a steaming mug in front of him. The frothy liquid was green. Another one of his herbal concoctions?

“It’s matcha. I lucked out.” Bard scratched his cheek. “Got caught in a bad storm a couple towns over and took refuge in a partly burned-out old asian market. I moved some shelves to help create a barcade and found a whole supply of the stuff that had been overlooked by scavengers.”

“The caffeine will help your breathing,” Agni said with a warm smile. “It’s not medicine, but it was a good find.”

Sebastian tried not to frown as he took a sip. It was bitter, but Agni had added some of the honey from the bees he kept to sweeten it. He didn’t want to ruin their happy reunion by suggesting, again, that maybe it was time Agni and Bard moved on and left him behind. He was too frail to travel, and Bard was having to spend more and more time on the road, detouring farther and farther from their home base in order to find any medicine to help ease Sebastian’s symptoms.

Even before the world fell apart, Sebastian had been ill. But after, the stress and lack of medical care meant his condition had deteriorated significantly, and if they hadn’t found this cabin by chance, he knew he probably would have died years ago.

Sometimes, he wondered if that would have been better for both Agni and Bard, even if he kept his mouth shut as he listened to them talking, Bard regaling some of his adventures while Agni finished prepping their food.

They’d have rabbit stew tonight, thanks to Bard’s catch, and Sebastian cherished the warmth of the mug in his hands as he tried to enjoy the limited happiness of this domestic snapshot.

He did like it here, in their little cabin. The woods shielded them from most of the horrors of the dying human world, and the fresh, dry air eased his breathing some. He loved their little home and garden, and enjoyed helping Agni with the animals when he was well enough to venture outside. He thought, despite his illness and the reality of their new world, he might be content, if Bard didn’t constantly have to put his life at risk for Sebastian’s sake.

Sebastian shivered as one of Bard’s coarse hands played with his long hair, curling a strand around a finger.

“I missed you both so fucking much,” he said. Sebastian could see the fear in those blue eyes, that he’d probably worried he might not make it back, or that by the time he did, only Agni would be waiting for his return.

~#~

Reblogs appreciated as always!

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