#i solemnly swear to never do this

[beastsovrevelation]

A complete travesty in the Good Omens universe? Michael not being portrayed the leader of angels.

She's supposed to be the Supreme Commander, and she's supposed to be the boss. I sincerely suggest you don't fight me on this hill. For Hell's sake, the actress has the perfect vibe... A crime has been commited here.

Therefore, I swear to fix it in my fanfictions. General, I'll do right by you. ❤

If you can't tell, in spite of being on the opposite side, I'm attached to this figure. I'm protective of this figure. I'll defend this figure with claws and teeth.

[girlpetrarca]

gang I'm not sure I have the courage to come out to my boxing coach

[todayisafridaynight]

I would never find any of your work MID never accuse me of that again 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I'M SORRY I WON'T I PROMIIIISEEE

[earthtooz]

x : NOT JEALOUS ! :*+ﾟ

in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?

warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.

a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)

Alhaitham isn’t jealous. 

The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.

“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.

“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”

“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh. 

He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm. 

“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.

How bothersome. What’s happening to him?

“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?” 

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.

“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”

“The one for your elective?”

You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”

“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”

“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him. 

(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)

“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.

You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”

“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse. 

But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye. 

(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)

“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.

Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.” 

The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.

A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.

“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.

“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture. 

The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.

(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)

You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug. 

“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you. 

“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”

“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”

“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”

“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”

“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”

Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”

A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.

Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious. 

“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup. 

“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”

The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.” 

“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”

“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I’m the only one who-”

“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.

Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”

“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”

“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”

A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”

“Hold on, what does the note say?”

Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?

“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“

Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”

“Sure, but why are you doing-“

“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.

So why weren’t you here?

“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.

You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?

“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.

“Whom?”

You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.

“What?” Alhaitham snaps.

“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”

“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”

Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.  

“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”

“-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”

“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”

“Because she was sick.” 

“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!” 

“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”

“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.

Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.

Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why. 

“You’re not that special.”

A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.

“Listen to me!”

“Fuck off!” 

“Y/n-”

You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate. 

“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.

“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.

The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”

“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.

“Who pissed in your black coffee today?” 

“No one. Now get lost.” 

“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”

“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”

“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”

“-No, no, none of those!”

“Then what?”

Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”

“Huh? Why so annoyed?”

“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”

It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.” 

“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love. 

“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”

“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”

Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.

He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe. 

You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar? 

And why are you smiling so happily?

You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).

He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?

He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.

(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)

Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you. 

“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over. 

He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression. 

“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”

“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.” 

“What guy?” 

“Your project partner.”

“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.

He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.” 

“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.” 

“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.” 

Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him. 

Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?

Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.

“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.

Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-

“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?” 

Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.

“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile. 

“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”

“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”

“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.

“Nope,” you sigh. 

“Why not?”

“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”

“An apology? Why? What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.” 

“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”

“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”

“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”

Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.

“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”

“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?” 

“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.

Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.

“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”

“When will you just confess to Y/n?”

The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”

“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”

“-what, when?”

“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?” 

“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”

“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”

“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands. 

“So why aren’t you apologising?” 

“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”

“Jealous, much?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”

“But, we are just friends-”

“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”

The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in. 

“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”

A sharp click rings through the room.

Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner? 

(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.

What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?

Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.

“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.

He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.

“For me?” You ask.

“For you.”

“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest. 

“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”

You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.  

“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.

“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs. 

“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”

“By your groupmate?”

“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?” 

“Yes. I did.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”

“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party. 

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“We do, but I want to ask you something first.” 

You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue. 

“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”

A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad? 

Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”

“Are you free right now?”

“I am. Why?”

“Let’s go out then. On a date.”

“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.

The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[ellecdc]

pls tell me that ur going to do smth with remus inspired by the werewolf post you reblogged 🙏 p.s I love your work!!!

hahaha I think you're referring to this post, so here's a small little baby blurb for ya <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader who doesn't want her to know too much about Moony [435 words]

CW: non-canon compliant description of werewolf behaviour, swearing [duh]

“Come on, Moons! Time to go!” James shouted as he burst through the portrait hole, officially announcing the end of your quiet cuddle on the three seater sofa with Remus. 

Remus made a defiant sort of grumble as he sank impossibly further into the cushions, essentially dragging you down with him. 

“Awe don’t do that.” Sirius said salaciously, throwing a wink in your direction. “Believe me, I’d rather be up here snuggling with Y/N too, but we’ve got plans for the night.” He explained, motioning with his head towards the sky no one could see through the castle ceilings. 

“Sod off.” Remus muttered; his arms circling you tighter at the insinuation you’d be snuggled up against any other bloke should he vacate the common room. 

James let out a theatrical groan, but his shit eating grin gave way to the fact that it was all for show. “That’s what we’re trying to do, Moons. So let's go! We’re sodding off.”

“Can you explain to me again why you have to go to the shrieking shack for this?” You asked slowly, rubbing the back of Remus’ hands that were locked around your middle in equal parts placation and encouragement to let go. 

Remus never had a chance to respond before Peter piped up. “S’cause Moony’s not housebroken.”

“I am too housebroken.” Remus shot stubbornly, causing Sirius to snort.

“Sure, Moons. I bet that’s why the only thing left of the cushions from the old sofa in there are all the feathers strewn about.” 

“There was something in the cushions!” He insisted. 

“Right, and we totally found whatever it was.” James agreed sarcastically. 

“It’s not only the furniture that’s not safe - he’s scratched the shit out of the walls and floors too.” Peter continued.

“Minnie would not be happy to find the Gryffindor common room in such a state.” Sirius added solemnly. 

“Okay…” Remus relented slowly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not housebroken.”

The three Marauders stared at Remus with different levels of bemusement. 

“Rem, Moons is so territorial that I’m pretty sure if Y/N joined us, you’d be lifting your leg to-”

“Okay that’s enough!” Remus spat quickly; lifting the entirety of your weight off his lap and placing you back onto the sofa. “Sorry, dove. I’ll see you in the morning.” He murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to your head before turning and shoving Sirius towards the portrait hole.

“Don’t worry,” James insisted as he walked backwards in the direction of his friends. “We’ve been working on him with positive reinforcement, but it’s slow going; he’s really quite dumb as a wolf-”

“PRONGS!”

[bookyeom]

pairing: s.coups x reader word count: 4.8k warnings: a couple of swears i think, kissing, people being bad friends and treating reader badly :(, a tiny bit of poor self-esteem on reader's end but not much, seungcheol gets a lil mad at one point but it's nothing crazy

Author's Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it's not necessary.

pov by ariana grande

i wanna love me the way that you love me for all of my pretty, and all of my ugly too i'd love to see me from your point of view cause nobody ever loved me like you do

You feel like you’ve been subject to an intervention.

You’d come over to pick up a sweater you’d left at Jeonghan’s, and now you’re sitting on his couch while both him and Soonyoung stare at you, arms crossed. You have the distinct feeling that you’re being judged. 

“You’re here early,” Jeonghan finally says, and you immediately don’t like the tone of his voice. 

“Yeah,” you say, slowly. “Junseok couldn’t make it last minute, so I just came straight here.” You don’t miss the look that passes between Jeonghan and Soonyoung, and you inwardly groan in preparation when you realize what’s about to come.

”Wow, he canceled?” Soonyoung says, sarcastic as ever.

“We’re so surprised,” Jeonghan follows, and you roll your eyes. 

“Things happen,” you try, but your friends don’t even flinch. 

“Yeah, they always seem to happen with him in particular, especially when you guys have plans. Poor guy.” 

“Come on. Stop.”

Jeonghan smacks you on the arm, and you yelp. “He’s such a dick, Y/N. Break up with him.”

“We’re not dating! I’ve told you a million times that we’re just friends.”

“Does the fact that you’re just friends justify how he treats you?” Soonyoung asks, and that hits you, hard. Your shoulders slump, and Soonyoung sits next to you on the couch.

“He’s just forgetful,” you murmur, but even as you say the words, you don’t really believe them yourself. 

“Hoshi is the most scatterbrained person I’ve ever met,” Jeonghan points out, “and even he remembers plans.”

The man in question appears offended for a brief moment, before quickly brightening up at the end of Jeonghan’s statement. “Yeah,” he nods solemnly in agreement. “I sometimes forget my sentences half way through. If I can remember making plans with my friends, so can he.”

You remain silent. You know they’re right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“You know who else never cancels on you, at least not without a solid explanation?”

You know where this is going, but you’re definitely going to pretend that you don’t. “Joshua? Seokmin? Love those guys. Truly the most loyal companions and —“

“Seungcheol not only sticks to plans, he also makes them with you first,” Jeonghan continues on, interrupting you, not even batting an eye as he ignores your pouting. 

“And he’d probably rather poke his own eye out than cancel on you,” Hoshi supplies.

“He’s my friend,” you protest weakly. “Do you mean you guys wouldn’t gauge an eye out on my behalf?”

“No,” the two men opposite you answer at the same time, and you sink back into your seat with a huff. 

“DK would,” you mumble.

“Yeah, but — bless his stupid ass — he’d do that for any of us,” Hoshi points out. “Seungcheol, on the other hand, thought it was funny to lock me out of the bathroom when I was hungover and needed to throw up last Saturday morning.” 

“Okay, but Cheol told me that you spilled a bottle of vodka all over his new laptop while you were drunk and tried to cover it up,” you counter. Hoshi opens his mouth to retort, but Jeonghan cuts him off. 

“Last week, he canceled lunch with Mingyu and I just because he didn’t want to get out of bed.”

“He had an exam the night before!” you protest, quickly jumping to Seungcheol’s defense in his absence. “For a really hard class, too! He was telling me about it when he came over to study.” The two men stare back at you pointedly, and you feel your cheeks flush. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jeonghan simply smiles, and it unsettles you. “Just that I’ve known Seungcheol for three years and I’ve never, not even once, seen him willingly study with someone else. He always talks about needing to focus alone.”

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, and try valiantly to hide it with your turtleneck sweater. “Maybe you guys are just annoying.”

“Or maybe he’s in love with you,” Soonyoung pipes up, a wide grin on his face, and you let out a whine. 

“Stop,” you plead as the two of them high-five. 

“You and Seungcheol are so annoying. If we’re talking about good ‘friends’,” Jeonghan puts quotation marks in the air around the word as he says it, “he should be at the top of your list. That man cares about you so much it’s kind of sickening.”

”Are you saying you don't care about me?”

You’re trying to change the subject, and Jeonghan knows it. He glares at you. “We care about you enough to try and knock some sense into you, don’t we?”

“I’m leaving,” you announce, pushing yourself off the sofa, sweater in hand. 

“Hey,” Jeonghan calls out as you pass through the threshold. “Can you take this, too?” He appears a second later as you’re tying your shoes, holding out a pair of socks. You raise an eyebrow in question. “They’re Cheol’s,” he explains. “I can almost guarantee you’re going to see him before I do.”

“How do you know that, Jeonghan?” 

“When are you guys hanging out next?”

You squint at your friend for a moment, before you begrudgingly take the socks from his hand. “Tomorrow morning,” you murmur. You pointedly ignore Jeonghan’s laughter as you all but slam the door behind you. 

“How was yesterday?”

“Hm?” You hum through a mouthful of food, glancing back up at Seungcheol. 

You’re sitting across from him at your favourite cafe. It had been silent since your food arrived and you’d both shut up to shovel food into your mouths, so you’re surprised when he speaks up. You also have no idea what he’s referring to.

“You hung out with Junseok last night, right?” Seungcheol asks, and you wince.

“Oh,” you manage. “No, we didn’t end up getting together.”

Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate, clicking his tongue as he brings his coffee mug up to his lips. “Asshole.”

“Cheol.”

“What? He’s an asshole.” He sets his coffee down again, elbows on the table as he runs a hand through his hair and asks, “Did he cancel, or did you?”

You look back down at your food. “He did.”

Seungcheol simply nods, crossing his arms as he leans against the back of the booth. You’re reminded again of just how big his arms have gotten lately, and you try to shake the thoughts before your gaze lingers just a bit too long. “Of course he did.”

“He’s trying,” you mumble miserably, knowing it sounds lame, even to yourself. “He’s getting better at following through.”

The man in front of you raises his eyebrows. “Is he?”

“You’re being a dick.”

“I’m just telling the truth.” Seungcheol shrugs. “Why do you even like him?”

“I don’t like him like that anymore,” you mutter. “I haven't for a while. It was a dumb crush, Cheol, you know that. We’re friends now.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Okay, well, I’m your friend too. And as your friend, I’m telling you – he’s an asshole.”

This time, you don’t offer a rebuttal. You fall silent, pushing the eggs around on your plate. You can feel Seungcheol watching you, and you can practically hear his defenses lowering the longer you stay quiet. Usually, you can keep up with his banter and sass, but you know he can tell that you’re actually upset now. You’re tired of arguing. Deep down, you know he’s right, and you don’t have it in you to meet his gaze.

“Somebody who cares about you wouldn’t do stuff like that, friend or otherwise,” he finally speaks again, his voice softer now. “I know it sucks… but sometimes, it really is that simple.”

“Yeah,” is all you say. 

“Hey.”

You make yourself look at him again, offering him as much of a smile as you can. 

He smiles back, soft. “People care about you, okay?” 

You nod. The longer he looks at you, the more you start to feel that electric current, that low buzzing that seems to take over your entire body whenever Seungcheol is close. Jeonghan’s words linger in the back of your mind as he finally looks away, breaking the tension between the two of you.

That man cares about you so much it’s kind of sickening.

You hate how downright… silly you feel.

”He promised he’d make it this time,” you sniffle, and Seokmin squeezes you tighter into his side. “He even booked the tickets. Why would you book the tickets and then cancel on the day of?”

“Once a liar, always a liar,” Jeonghan calls out from his kitchen. 

“Once an asshole, always an asshole,” Seungcheol agrees. He’s leaning against the doorframe that separates the kitchen from the living room, and you don’t know why it hurts a little that he hasn’t tried to comfort you at all since you walked in. His comment only serves to upset you more, and you glare at him.

“Are you happy?”

Seungcheol blinks in surprise, turning back to you from where he was watching Jeonghan in the kitchen. “What?”

”Are you happy that you’re right? Do you feel good about it, Cheol?” You can feel Seokmin pat your shoulder comfortingly, but it doesn’t help — you’re annoyed now.

”What are you even talking about, Y/N?”

“You’re right — he’s an asshole. You’re right. You love being right, don’t you?”

The silence is almost palpable. Jeonghan has stopped moving in the kitchen, Seokmin is frozen next to you, and you can cut the tension in the room with a knife. Seokmin slowly moves to stand up, heading into the kitchen with Jeonghan, leaving the two of you alone.

“It’s not about being right,” Seungcheol finally says, and you avoid his gaze when he joins you on the couch. “All I care about is the fact that he should treat you better.”

Seungcheol’s tone leaves no room for argument, and you can feel your shoulders sag. You know that he’s right — and you hate it. 

“I know,” you admit, and all of your misplaced anger drains from you in seconds. “I know he should,” you repeat, feeling your remaining defenses start to crumble. “So why won’t he?” 

You say the last words so quietly that you’re surprised anyone hears you, but you know that at least Seungcheol has when his shoulders fall. You hear him inhale a breath, but you speak again before he gets a chance to say anything.

“I just don’t understand why I’m not worth the effort.” You can hear your voice crack, followed by silence, and then — you break. The tears are falling before you can stop them. You feel the couch shift as Seungcheol turns. Whatever hesitation he’d had about comforting you before seems to ease up as his hand finds your knee and gives it a gentle squeeze. You’re grateful, but you still can’t look at him.

“What about the people who do treat you well?” His tone is softer now, but you can tell he’s still upset by the tone of his voice. You don’t have a chance to answer before he speaks again. “I could tell you a million times how great I think you are, I could make a thousand plans to hang out, I could go on and on about how much I like being around you… but nothing will change until you figure out a way to believe me. I—“ He clears his throat. “We— care about you so much. All of us. We should be the people that matter.”

“But what did I do wrong? With him?”

Seungcheol’s hand on your thigh is gone in a flash. He stands up, and you miss his warmth immediately. “I don’t know what else to say,” he says, voice low. He’s angry, you can tell, but he would never admit to it. 

You want to apologize, desperate to bring him back to you, but you’re frozen. 

“I’m going to head out.” He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t look back at you. Jeonghan and Seokmin appear from the kitchen, but no one says anything except for a ‘drive safe’, and then he’s gone.

It’s silent for a moment, and then you say, “I fucked up.”

To your surprise, Jeonghan doesn’t scold or tease you. He doesn’t even agree. Seokmin disappears back into the kitchen to tend to the food Jeonghan was cooking, but Jeonghan himself joins you on the couch with a sigh.

“Listen,” Jeonghan starts. “You and I are similar — we always tend to focus on the people that don’t care. We want to be loved, so when someone doesn’t put in as much effort as us, we feel like we have to figure out why. We want to know what we did wrong, even though we didn’t do anything wrong at all. We forget that there are tons of people that love us a lot already. I love you, for example.” Jeonghan pinches your thigh affectionately, before he juts his thumb in the direction of your front door. ”Or what about that guy? The one who just left my apartment, pissed, because you let someone make you question your worth? He cares about you without thinking twice. For him, it’s effortless. You’re worth it, and you’ve never had to prove that to us. You just are, and always have been.”

You’re officially crying now. You know you’ve really upset Seungcheol, and you know your friends are all right. You know it, you know they love you and you love them, but why don’t you believe that you deserve it?

“I should go home,” you say softly, but your hand squeezes Jeonghan’s in acknowledgement, in a quiet thanks.

“I won’t say anything else except for this,” Jeonghan says gently. “I know you think Cheol is worth it, too. Being with someone doesn’t always have to feel like effort.” He shrugs. “Sometimes, it’s effortless.”

You spend the next week thinking, and thinking, and thinking, until the ball drops and you finally just do it. You block Junseok on every social media, you delete his number, and you’re proud of yourself for it. You don’t message your friends back very much throughout the week. Seungcheol in particular has been radio silent, but you suppose you deserve that. You don’t reach out first, instead taking the time to process everything that’s happened, to process everything you’re feeling — and not just about Junseok. 

You know that Seungcheol has always meant a little bit more to you than anyone else. Now, you’re wondering why you’ve never done anything about it — and you’re also wondering just how long you’ve been blind to the fact that Seungcheol most likely, almost definitely, likes you back. 

Y/N [5:36pm]: early Galentines dinner at my place this Sunday at 7?

You receive an almost immediate thumbs up from Seokmin and Soonyoung.

Hannie [5:43pm]: yaaaaas

Wonu [5:44pm]: might be a bit late but I’ll be there 

Kwanie [5:52pm]: NOOOOO I’m busy :(

Kwanie [5:52pm]: galentines?? WITHOUT ME????? UNBELIEVABLE

You smile at that, texting Seungkwan a private apology in a separate chat. Your heart jumps in your chest when you receive another notification, and you’re filled with relief so quick and intense that it feels like you’ve been doused in water.

Cheollie [5:58pm]: I’ll be there. Cheollie [5:58pm]: need help setting up?

You hug Seungcheol the second he walks through your door. He reciprocates, and you feel relieved and anxious and warm and fuzzy all at once.

Now, a half hour has passed, and neither of you have mentioned what happened the week before. He tells you about his week at work, and you hate the small talk but you know it’s all just the road back into the familiar ease of your friendship — so you participate. It’s only when you’ve finished getting ready for dinner, Valentine’s Day decorations and lights all strung up and ready to go, that he speaks up again. You’re preparing tea for the two of you when he catches you entirely off guard. 

“Will Junseok be joining us tonight?”

You can feel your shoulders tense up. You can tell that it pains him to say it, but you also know he’s the brave one for even bringing it up. You take a deep breath. 

“He’s not coming tonight, or any other night, actually.”

Seungcheol seems surprised as he hands you a mug from the cupboard before grabbing one for himself. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s okay. I’m fine, really.”

Seungcheol’s eyes follow you as you move across the kitchen to the kettle, pausing before speaking again. “I can tell.”

You turn back to him as you click the kettle on to boil, an eyebrow raised in his direction. “Was that sarcastic?”

The man smiles as he shakes his head. “No, I mean it. You seem happier than...” He trails off, but you both know what he’s thinking: than when I saw you last.

“I am,” you reply honestly, and it’s silent again for a moment before you both start to speak at the same time.

“Listen, I–”

“Hey, Cheol–”

You can feel warmth start to spread through you when he begins to laugh at your clumsiness — it had only been a week, but you’d missed that. You’d missed him. 

“You first,” you offer, and he nods.

“I’m sorry that I was frustrated when I left the other day,” he says, and you tilt your head in surprise at his apology. He shrugs before continuing, “I shouldn’t have left like that… but in my defense, I didn’t know you’d disappear for a week.” He’s joking, and you smile a bit at that.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Cheol.” He joins you at the counter and you begin to pour hot water into both mugs, eyes focused on the task at hand, but you can feel him next to you. It suddenly all feels so intimate, the way you’re making tea for him the way he likes it without him saying a word, the way he watches you move around in your kitchen as if he does it every day. 

You turn to hand him his tea and when your eyes meet his, you feel a flush begin to creep up your neck to find him already looking back.

“I mean it,” you say softly, and he hums in response, eyebrows raising as he takes a sip and waits for you to continue. “I really am sorry for not being around the last couple of weeks.” You hop up onto the counter, legs dangling off of it as you wait for your tea to cool. 

Seungcheol sets his mug down on the counter and sends you a soft smile, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. “It’s okay. I get it.”

You nod, looking down, and pick at a thread on your jeans. “Thanks,” you say quietly, but he knows you’re not finished speaking. His eyes don’t leave your face, and his fingers still grip onto the handle of his mug as he waits, ever patient, for you to gather your thoughts. “I’m still sorry, though. I was just so overwhelmed and didn’t want to deal with it, so I let everything build up to a breaking point.”

“I promise it’s okay,” Seungcheol repeats. He’s being genuine — you can hear it in his voice. Your eyes meet his again, and you almost wish they hadn’t because you have more to say, and you might lose all of the courage left in you if he keeps looking at you like that. 

“Just… Just let me explain,” you request quietly, and he nods again. “I… I guess I just needed a bit of time to myself. To figure out what’s important to me.” You pause, choosing your next words carefully. “To figure out who is important to me.” 

You can feel your cheeks flush as you finish. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you this whole time, and you think your heart is in your throat now as he continues to gaze at you.

“Yeah?” 

Does he understand what you’re implying? Your eyes move to land on the dark strand of hair that’s fallen into his eyes. You suddenly feel a desperate need to reach out, to brush his hair back, to touch it. To touch him. Would he let you? Does he want that, too?

“Yeah,” you finally repeat, your quiet voice matching his as you meet his gaze again.

He moves then, slowly, almost as if he’s worried he’ll scare you off, shifting closer and reaching across your legs to set his mug in the sink. Your breath catches in your throat as he straightens back up in front of you, his now-empty hand falling to the counter beside your thigh. He’s standing right in front of you, caging you in between his arms, and you can’t look away.

“And what’s the verdict?” Comes his question, dark eyes searching yours.

“That I should start to focus more on the people that show me they care. Because those are the ones that I care about the most, too.” 

The tension in the air is palpable. 

Then his fingers gently, tentatively, brush against yours where they rest on the counter. He doesn’t do anything more, testing the waters, and it takes everything in you not to shiver. His gaze falls to your mouth, and you hold your breath — then he looks down and away from you, his eyes squeezing shut, and the moment is lost.

“Cheol?” You say carefully, desperate to get him to look at you again. He hums in response, but he doesn’t look up. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but you feel like if you don’t say what you want to say right now, you never will. “Thank you.”

That seems to get his attention as he lifts his head to meet your gaze once more. You can tell he’s surprised as he murmurs, “For what?”

“For being here.” You’re not sure if that’s what you meant to say, or how you meant to say it, because it sounds far too simple for how you feel about the man in front of you. And then he smiles.

“Of course,” comes his reply. You watch as his smile grows and he says, “I was told there would be free beer.”

You blink at him for a moment, processing — and then you let out a single, surprised laugh. You feel some sense of relief wash over you as the tension between you breaks a little, as everything around you seems to soften. You feel a little bit like you’re glowing from the inside out, warm and fuzzy like the pink heart-shaped lights strung up around your apartment, and you wonder if he feels it, too. You’re starting to think that maybe he does.

“Cheol,” you say, and you offhandedly wonder why you’re saying his name so much. He grows serious again, but the lighter air between the pair of you gives you just enough confidence to continue. “I don’t just mean today,” you elaborate, your voice soft. You feel vulnerable now, even more than before, your eyes falling to your lap. “You’re always there when I need you, and even sometimes when I think that I don’t.” Seungcheol laughs quietly at that. “It means a lot to me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “You mean a lot to me.” 

When you look up, you find him gazing back, and you abruptly realize that he’s moved even closer. The fingers that were playing with yours move up to your waist, and your entire body reacts to the warmth of his palm. 

“Is this okay?” He murmurs, a quiet question that threatens to overwhelm you. He’s making sure that you want this just as much as he does. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“More than okay,” you affirm. His mouth lifts at the sides, dimples just peeking through. Again, you think that there’s something more that you wanted to say, but your breath is caught in your throat and he’s just so… beautiful.

“I…” He trails off, and you watch as his eyebrows furrow. You’re desperate to be even closer as you wait, closing the final space between you to press your forehead to his. “It was so hard not talking to you this week,” is what finally he says, and though he hasn’t said much, you think you understand. 

I missed you. That’s what he’s trying to say.

You desperately want to communicate to him that you won’t leave him like that again, that you don’t plan on going anywhere, that the last seven days away from him sucked just as much for you. In a bold move, you ease your legs apart, leaving room for him to stand between them. Your calf moves to hook behind his knee, tapping against him in a silent request for him to come even closer. You hope he understands — that you want him close like this, that you missed him more than you think he realizes.

He seems to understand you just fine.

He easily fills the space you made for him, his chest nearly flush against yours now. He gives your waist a gentle squeeze, and you inhale a shaky breath as he brushes his nose against yours. Your hands have found his shoulders, grasping onto the material of his sweater, and his eyes fall shut.

The same, pesky strand of hair is falling into his eyes again, and you’re pretty certain that given your current position, you’re allowed to do something about it now. So you do, lifting a hand to gently brush it back and over his forehead, gaze following the movement. His eyes open at the touch, and a whisper of your name brings you back to him. 

The moment you lock eyes again, he’s leaning forward to capture your mouth with his. 

Your hand falls from his forehead to his bicep as you gasp into the kiss, as you try and process. When you do, when you realize what’s finally happening, you can’t get enough. You’re pulling him in so close that you feel a bit feral, your fingers pressing into his arms, his back, one hand finding its way to the hair at the nape of his neck. You can tell he’s not faring much better than you as he chases your lips relentlessly, as he pulls you into him so close that you can’t feel anything but him. 

When you finally need to breathe, your hands find his face. You pull back, eyes taking him in as he lets out a breath, like he can’t believe what’s just happened, either. He looks at you, and you look back, and you have no idea what to say or do — until suddenly, you’re beaming. You can’t help it as you pull him back in for one long, slow kiss, grin wide against his mouth, your hand moving again to the back of his neck. He’s smiling, too — your favourite smile of his, the one that’s completely, entirely genuine — and when he pulls away only to bury his face in your neck this time, you can feel the smile against your skin.

“Fuck, I’m in love with you.”

It’s quiet, whispered against your skin, but you hear it. Your fingers pause their trail up and down his back. You move his face back up to look at him, your eyes searching his, desperate to know if you heard him right. “Cheol?”

He kisses you again, once, twice, so slow and soft that it makes your head spin. “I love you,” he says, breathless against your lips. He waits for you as you let it sink in, his hands firm on your waist, eyes boring into yours so you know that he means it. 

You believe him.

“I love you too,” you whisper, foreheads moving to rest against each other once more. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be. It’s okay.”

He pulls you into his chest, and you can feel just how fast his heart is beating. You’re certain that yours isn’t doing much better.

“I do have a question though,” he says after a few moments pass, and you hum, urging him to go on. “You said you were going to spend more time with the people that care about you, right?” 

You move back to look at him and tilt your head in question. “Yes?”

“I’m guessing that includes Jeonghan and Hoshi and the boys,” Seungcheol muses, and you nod, your eyebrows raising. Then he pouts, and you sputter out a laugh.

“What’s that face for? They’re your friends, too!”

Seungcheol huffs. “Yes, but if you meant that you’re going to kiss them like that, too, then –”

You clap a hand over his mouth. “Ew!”

The man in front of you has a shit-eating grin on his face now, and you remove your hand. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“Trust me,” you shudder, “you’re the only one I’ve ever thought about kissing.”

“You’ve thought about it, huh?”

You look up at him, smacking his chest. “Shut up!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve thought about it too.” When he moves to kiss you again, you stop him with a hand on his chest. “Speaking of our friends,” you tease, “they’re literally going to be here any second. You have permission to kiss me as much as you want to later, okay?”

A/N: here it is! The first of our Thirteen Valentines. I have to be honest, I got a little carried away with this one... I'll put out a full disclaimer that not all of the fics will be this long! Seungcheol has a solid grip on me and I couldn't do anything about it, you guys.

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :)

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @savventeen @eoieopda

[thatgenericwriter]

THE BET || GREGORY HOUSE

Paring: Gregory House x gn! reader

Summary: reader is a mortician at the hospital and gets into a little bet with House

Warnings: House (no explanation needed) and some swearing

Word Count: 1.1k

P.S. based on the request by @ryoiii (I'm sorry this took me so long to do I'm trying my hardest)

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Life was pretty mundane at your new job as a mortician at Princeton Plainsboro's Teaching Hospital. Being new to the city and hoping for a fresh start was fine, but man was it boring. Just you alone with your thoughts down in the basement of a huge hospital.

Until one day you met House in the cafeteria. He was sitting with Wilson, the doctor that Cuddy had assigned to show you around on your first day. You two had grown close over the two weeks you had been there. You would hang out in his office when there was nothing for you to do. And you guys would have lunch together most days. You saw him as the only friend you had made so far.

So it was no surprise when he called you over to his table after you got your food.

"Hey y/n, come sit!" You smile at Wilson and make your way over, taking note of the grumpy looking man, whom you assumed was Wilson's friend Dr. Gregory House. Which was made certain when you saw his cane leaning against his chair.

"Wilson! Paying to have your "friends of the night" visit you at work? That's low even by my standards!" Wilson slaps House's shoulder and scolds him before turning to look at you apologetically.

"It's okay Willson. House is just jealous because he knows he will never be able to afford me." You revel in the questioning look on House's face and the shocked look on Wilson's as you sit down on the chair next to him.

You open your yogurt container and take a bite before looking between House and Wilson questioningly.

"What? Can't handle the truth?" House smirks at you while Wilson sighs loudly beside you.

"Great another House. Just what I needed." Wilson shakes his head solemnly from beside you as you lean back in your chair eyeing the man across from you. 'This is going to be fun.'

.........

Ever since your encounter with House in the cafeteria a few weeks ago, you two have become inseparable. Whenever you don't have a body to tend to in the morgue you're in House's office. His fellows have become accustomed to seeing you in House's yellow chair tossing his ball around or doodling on his whiteboard.

They have also come to learn that if House is nowhere to be found, he is most likely down in the morgue with you. Which is where they found him today. But instead of finding him in deep discussion with you, they walk in on the two of you fighting.

"You can not have one of the bodies! Especially not with the intention of shooting them in the fucking head!" You went along with all of House's stupid ideas (that's what made him fun), but this was crossing a line. A line that put your job on the chopping block.

House was acting like the man-child he is, actually stomping his foot at you and crossing his arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"But mommy please!" He had the audacity to stick his bottom lip out at you and that was your last straw. You look at him blankly and walk past him to the doors.

"Do whatever you want. I don't care anymore." You swiftly walk past his fellows who look at you with pity written all over their faces. You paid no mind to them and continued to the elevators. The last thing you saw before the doors slid closed was House staring at you with a look on his face that you'd never seen from him before. Remorse.

..........

That was about an hour ago. Now you are sprawled across Wilson's couch in his office chatting with him about the most random stuff. That was until the door slowly opened and House walked through.

You turn and face away from him not ready to talk to him quite yet. However, that didn't deter him from talking to you.

"I just came to say that I talked to Cuddy and made it known that anything I do should not affect your job. And that I will take responsibility for anything I do that involves the morgue." This was a surprise to you, and also to Wilson according to his face. When you still didn't turn to face House he continued.

"I also wanted to apologize to you for trying to make you do something you didn't want to get involved with." At this point, Wilson was sure he was having a stroke and you were sure that you had completely fallen for House.

You had been fighting the idea of having a crush on House since the very first week of being with him. Hearing about his lack of emotions and empathy for others strayed you away from pursuing a relationship with him. But after him taking responsibility for his actions and apologizing to you, how could you stay away?

You turn to him with the coldest look on your face that you could manage. "You think you can just come in here and give some half-ass apology and believe that I would forgive you just like that!"

You relish in the confused expression on Wilson's and House's faces before bursting out in laughter.

"Of course I forgive you ya goof!" You jump off of the couch and grab his hand pulling him out of the office.

"I bet ya his head explodes!" Slowing down to a speed that House can keep up with comfortably, you start to pull your hand away. House stops you, however, by interlocking his fingers with yours.

"I bet you he doesn't scream no matter what happens." House pushes the down button to call for the elevator with his cane before looking at you. You smile back at him and bump your hip with his slightly.

"That's not fair he's dead!" He smiles at you and bumps your hip back. The elevator dings and opens to reveal all of his fellows who walk out informing House that their "patient" is ready to be scanned. You watch as their jaws drop when they notice your intertwined hands.

You giggle and follow House into the elevator waving goodbye to his fellows as the doors slide shut.

"They are never going to stop talking about this." He looks at you and smirks.

"I guess I'm just going to have to hide out in the morgue more often. I wonder if there is someone alive in there to keep me company?" You smile at him pretending to ponder on his question.

"I think I know someone who works there that might be interesting to talk to." The elevator dings and the doors slide open. You pull House once again and start making your way to the MRI lab.

"Enough sappy stuff! Let's go kill a dead guy!" You look back at House and he just shakes his head at you affectionately.

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Author's Note: Guys im finaly done with school! (at least for the summer) and I'm planning on writing a lot more! please leave some asks and be patient with me as I am trying my best here😭😭😭

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Drunk on You

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: After losing a bet, Frank's drunk night turns into a nightmare when he accidentally leaves a VERY honest voicemail on your phone. (Prompt: "I need to see your phone.")

warnings: swearing, excessive drinking (do NOT do this.), Frank being affectionate

a/n: This wasn't requested by anyone, I just saw this prompt and immediately pictured Frank freaking out about a voicemail he left on someone's phone. A huge shout out to @gracethyomen and @madschiavelique who I forced into beta-ing this for me multiple times. As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Thank you!

w/c: 6k (Yah, i know. I got carried away.)

Frank liked to think that he was decently romantic—so it was almost embarrassing that your relationship happened by accident. 

He didn’t possess a natural charm, like the one that Red always flaunted, but he could usually hold his own when he found someone attractive. Before…everything, his cocky attitude and unjustified youthful arrogance helped him flirt with Maria. Since the loss of his family, flirting was more of a pastime. Until you. 

From the moment you both met, Frank had known that you were different—that you were never meant to be a casual fling. It terrified him, at first, but after many many lectures from Curtis, he was ready to try a relationship again. 

Despite that fact, he could never seem to get the words out. 

Flirting with you was as easy as pulling a trigger, but being honest and open about his feelings? Never his strong suit. He was just thankful that Curtis believed in boundaries and David was oblivious, otherwise you would’ve gotten the news through the grapevine weeks before he blurted it out. 

It all started when David scolded him.

“Language, Castle. This is a family establishment.” His stern tone was completed with a pointed finger.

The two men were seated on opposite sides of the Lieberman’s sturdy dining room table, on the precipice of one of their classic “Family Dinner Spats”–a term Curtis had coined exasperatedly a few weekly meals ago. You, Sarah, and Curt were also currently at the table, nursing your wine while the kids played video games in the living room.

Smirking at David's tone, you raised a brow at the curly haired man. “Can you really call your suburban house an ‘establishment’?”

Frank chuckled at your attempt to defend him, his lips parting around the lip of his beer bottle in a smug smile.

“The house has been established, and there is a family present.” David snapped at you with a no-nonsense look. Looking at his wife incredulously, he threw his hands in a vague gesture. “C’mon Sarah, back me up!”

Sarah shrugged at him, grinning at his defeated groan. Shooting you and Frank a knowing look, she murmured, “We’ve all heard worse.“

Desperate for someone to agree with him, David glanced across the table pleadingly. “Curtis? C’mon man.”

Sighing, Curtis nodded, his lips twitching in a tiny smile. “You do have a foul mouth, Frank. There are children present.”

Frank scoffed, gesturing widely to the two teenagers in the other room.

Crinkling your nose as you stifled a laugh, you nodded solemnly. “They sort of have a point, Frank. Your vocabulary could make a sailor blush.”

Finally vindicated, David crowed, “You practically only speak in curses and grunts!”

The marine gaped. “Christ, I am not that bad.”

Smelling a game, David’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Oh yah? I bet you couldn’t go a week without swearing.

Sarah and Curtis took the vague challenge, and Frank’s responding bitter laugh, as their cue to leave the table, murmuring about cleaning up after dinner and chuckling to each other as they left. You, unfortunately, were far too intrigued to remove yourself from the conversation.

Good thing you were entertained, because David was far from finished with his accusations. “You know what? I don’t think you could even last a single day without that sinfully filthy language of yours, Castle.”

Frank rolled his eyes, but his jaw was tense. “Ya gonna make me a swear jar, Lieberman? What are you, my ma?”

David shrugged, pleased at how easily he was able to get under the hulking man’s skin. “Someone has to teach you some manners.”

You tapped a finger on your chin, meeting David’s roguish gaze. “He’s right though, a swear jar would never compel him to change.”

David crossed his arms. “And you have a better suggestion?”

Frank glanced at you, brow raised in curiosity, lips pursed.

You grinned manically. “Maybe a drinking game? Every curse word he says within 24 hours means he takes a shot.”

The technician erupted in bellowing laughter. “YES!”

Ignoring him, Frank smirked at you. “Tryin’ to get me drunk, sweetheart?”

You placed a hand over your heart in mock surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re chicken, Frankie.”

The large man bristled, straightening his posture as he shook his head. “Course not.”

David was glowing. “So you accept?”

“Uh—“ Frank’s hesitation was quickly settled by your adorable expression, your head tilted at him as you anticipated his next move. “Fuck, I guess.”

Practically screeching, David pointed a finger at the man, looking at you excitedly. “Oh my god, that counts right? That totally counts!”

Laughing as David practically began a victory dance, you raised your glass of wine. ”Let the game begin!”

What had he gotten himself into?

Unfortunately for his liver, the next 24 hours did not get easier.

With the combined efforts of you, Curtis, David, and the various CCTV systems of New York city, the tally landed at 52 curses in 24 hours.

“Holy shit, Frank,” You gaped at the final count, turning to him with wide eyes. “Were you even trying?”

Frank glowered, sinking further into the booth next to you. “Yes.”

“Well, we’re gonna need to change these rules a bit. Otherwise, you’ll need a transplant by next week.” You frowned, eyes glowing with the light of David’s computer screen.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft now, doll.” Frank muttered, the corner of his lips lifting up against his will.

“I’m always soft on you, tough guy.”Your words were earnest, causing Frank's throat to constrict. You raised a hand to pinch his cheek, seemingly unperturbed by his furious blush.

As if knowing he was ruining the moment, David returned to the table with a tray of half a dozen shot glasses. “Who’s ready to get wasted?”

Groaning, Frank dropped his head into his hands—his stomach already churning.

“New rules:” You announced, “No more than 7 drinks an hour.”

“Woah woah woah, who died and made you referee?” David scoffed.

“Everyone who has ever taken 52 shots in one night.” You retorted, refusing to change your mind.

While David began placing a row of tiny glasses in front of him, you took one of Frank's calloused hands in your much more delicate one. He raised his head to meet your serious gaze. “Hey, you do not have to do this. It was a stupid bet.” You were chewing on your bottom lip, his hand itched to cup your face and smooth the furrow in your brow.

“Um, he does so have to do this! I already put my card down. Drink up, asshole!” As David shoved the alcohol towards him, your arm shot out, acting as a barricade.

Looking at him with an inquisitive concern, you stroked your thumb over his knuckles. With a sigh, Frank grasped one of the shots between two fingers, downing it with a grimace.

David cheered. “Thattaboy! Drink up!!”

Biting your lip, you slid a single shot towards yourself and one to David. “If he’s going to do this, he’s not doing it alone. Drink up, Lieberman.” You teased, parroting his words before downing your own shot with a grace that was shocking and incredibly attractive. 

“Damn, that’s smooth. You shelled out for us.” You snorted, setting the shit glass back on the sticky table. 

Pouting at the tiny cup of clear liquid, David groaned. “I haven’t had tequila since college.”

“Sounds like you made a poor choice of beverage then. Drink!” You grinned at him, face warming as Frank slid an arm around your shoulders.

“She’s gotta point, Lieberman. You’ve dug your own grave. I ain’t drinkin’ another drop until you take that.” Frank smirked, eyes dancing with a mirth that you’d been missing.

“C’mon David!” You encouraged, the curly-haired man across from you finally nodding and downing the drink with a gag.

You and Frank cheered, laughing as he coughed in the aftermath.

“Alright, it’s gone. Your turn.” David nodded to the three remaining shots, crossing his arms impatiently.

Huffing out a breath, Frank tossed all three back, chasing the acrid taste with a swig of the beer he’d purchased himself without thinking. “There, ya fuckin’ happy now?”

“Thrilled.” David laughed. “We’re going to wait…15 minutes, and then I’m going to hustle you in pool.” Setting a timer on his watch, the engineer missed Frank’s exaggerated eye roll.

“Doesn’t a hustle require one party to not know they’re being hustled?” You asked, settling into Frank’s side with a smile.

“I could kick your ass with my eyes closed, Lieberman.” Frank snorted.

“Oh please, it's all geometry–I'm a whiz at geometry.”

Listening to them bicker, you couldn't help but smile. Sipping your beer, you crossed your legs, excited for the upcoming show.

As Frank's inhibitions grew steadily lower, you were joined at the booth by Curtis and Karen–both of whom were humored by the giant man's state, but not free of their own worry.

“Y’all trying to kill him?” Curtis chuckled, eyes focused on Frank's uncharacteristically wide grin as he slid into the booth across from you, beer in hand.

“Trust me, I’ve been negotiating Lieberman down all night to spare his intestines.” You huffed, your own gaze fixated on Frank as he lined up his next shot at the pool table, muscles bulging against his tight shirt as he bent over.

“See something you like?” Karen asked gleefully, lips curled in a smirk.

“Shut up,” You hissed, squirming in your seat as your body was hit with a flash of warmth.

“He's not making this easy for you, is he?” Curtis chuckled, sending Karen a knowing look.

“Does he always get so…touchy when he’s drunk?” You asked quietly, trying not to salivate as you got a perfect view of Frank's ass, his back turned towards you as he played his next turn.

Letting out a bark of laughter, Curtis shook his head at you.

“Oh stop it,” You groused, ignoring your friends' giggles as you slid off of the vinyl bench and made straight for the bar.

“Um whiskey. Neat, please.” You stammered out your order to the bartender, trying not to cringe at how disjointed the words sounded. Your mind was entirely preoccupied by the feelings you harbored for the man currently guffawing behind you. The scraping of glass on wood startled you out of your daydream.

Taking the glass from the bartender, trying not to meet their gaze as they eyed you suspiciously, you nodded a thank you.

Before you could return to your seat, a thick arm wrapped around your shoulders--a sensation that would've been horrifying had it not been accompanied by a familiar voice.

“When did ya start drinkin’ whiskey?” Frank's deep rasp ignited a heat deep in your gut, stealing the words straight off your tongue.

”I-I, uh didn't,“ You squeaked out, shoving the glass to Frank's chest. “I figured you’d want something other than mid-shelf tequila.” Looking up at him through thick lashes, your breath caught in your throat as you met his stare.

Frank's lips were tilted in a small smile, the tension he normally carried in his jaw nowhere to be found. His cheeks were flushed, his hair mussed from running his hands through it throughout the night. Boring into you, his beautiful ochre eyes crinkled with a happiness you rarely saw from the man.

A rough knuckle tipped your jaw upwards, shutting your mouth, which had apparently been hanging open as you admired the figure before you. “Somethin' on my face, sweetheart?”

Tilting his head, his eyes twinkled, his smile growing wider as you remained silent. “No, Frankie.”

“Good. C'mon, I need someone to cheer for me when I whup Lieberman's ass for a third time.” Frank snorted, pressing a kiss to your crown before taking your hand and dragging you towards the pool table.

The rest of the night flew by, a symptom of the intense focus you held on Frank's relaxed drunken nature. He'd been tipsy with you before, so you'd caught glimpses of this behavior from the man previously, but it would always catch you off guard to see him so...easygoing.

It wasn't that Frank wasn't affectionate, he was incredibly sweet, he just wasn't usually so forthcoming with his emotions. Nor was he normally content snuggling with you in public.

Rubbing his nose against your hair, Frank gave a sleepy hum before pulling back to down the rest of the ice water you'd forced into his grasp. His hand was gently gripping your waist, thumb tracing lines over your hip as your friends chatted. Frank was much too tired to be paying any attention, and your ability to retain any conversation topic flew out the window the moment his hand landed on your side.

Watching as his free hand lifted to clumsily scrub at his face, you frowned. “Wanna call it a night, Frank? You look ready to drop.”

“'M fine.” He grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Shit, you'd hoped the water would stave off the impending headache for now.

“The kid's right.” David remarked, smirking at your offended scoff. “If I'm beat, you must be half dead. I'll go close the tab."

"Can the rest of you make it home ok if I handle this one?" You asked, kneading at Frank's neck as he dropped his head to your shoulder with a grumpy huff.

"Yah, we can get David home in one piece." Karen promised, squeezing Frank's arm as she passed. "Goodnight."

"Ok, tough guy. You gotta get out so I can get out," You murmured, nudging the marine as carefully as possible.

Grumbling under his breath, he slid out of the booth, grabbing the table as he listed sideways.

"Christ, Frankie. Hold on, I gotcha." You grunted as he leaned against you, his weight shifting you off balance. Wrapping an arm around his waist in a motion similar to the one he'd made mere minutes ago, you shuffled towards the door. "Ok, Castle, you gotta work with me a little bit here."

As the two of you neared the exit, you heard an indignant squawk from the bar. "I OWE HOW MUCH??"

Chuckling softly, Frank's skull knocked against yours. "We'd better get outta here, sweetheart."

The two of you made it back to Frank's tiny apartment without incident, though the man was stumbling all the way. When you reached his front door, he snatched his keys from his pocket, tossing them at you without a word. 

Not expecting the projectile, the ring of keys hit you square in the chest, your chin following them as they crashed to the grimy carpet underneath your feet. Looking at Frank with narrowed eyes, you raised an eyebrow. “Was that really necessary?”

Frank chuckled quietly, his laugh as close to a giggle as it would probably ever get. His half-lidded eyes creased as he grinned at you. “Sorry,” The apology was undercut by the shit-eating expression on his face. 

“Drag your ass all the way home, breaking my back doing so–mind you,” You complained halfheartedly, your chest swelling with fondness as Frank’s raspy laughs continued. “And you just throw your shit at me.” 

Shaking your head, you let your smile betray you as he kissed your forehead. “You’re unbelievable, Castle.” 

“Thanks for puttin’ up with me.” His stubble scratched your skin as he spoke, his lips still resting against your temple. 

“Anytime, big guy.” Your eyes fell closed as his hand rubbed over your lower back.

After a minute, Frank spoke again. “Are ya gonna open the door, or am I gonna have to sleep in the hallway?” 

“Jesus Christ.” You groused, breaking out of his hold to squat down and grab his keys.

Just like that, Frank was back in stitches, shifting his weight to the door frame as his body shook with near silent laughter.

Shoving the key in the lock, you opened the door and shoved at him gently. "Get in there, goofball."

Shuffling inside, Frank beelined for the couch, collapsing onto it with his boots still on. Rolling your eyes, you followed him in, crouching by his feet to start unlacing his shoes.

Wriggling on his stomach, he craned his neck to look at you. “Whattya doin'?”

“Taking your shoes off, Frankie.” You explained without stopping your actions.

Grumbling, he flapped an arm at you clumsily. “Leave 'em.”

Huffing with exasperated affection, you ignored him. "You'll be more comfortable if I take them off, Frank."

You received a disgruntled noise in response, but his arm stopped moving. Face squashed against a throw pillow, his eyes were closed and his pink lips were parted--soft breaths slipping in and out of them every so often.

Finally pulling his second boot off, you sat back on your heels with a satisfied sigh. Standing as quietly as you could, you strode to the tidy kitchen.

Given that you were well-acquainted with Frank's place, you moved around the apartment with ease, finding the sparse first aid kit that he possessed and making a mental note to bring some supplies by soon. Sure, Frank would manage—he was the most capable man you'd ever met—but you wanted to make his life easier in any way you could.

Which is why you grabbed a few individually wrapped pain pills and placed them on the coffee table, along with a glass of water. Now for the difficult part.

"Frank, I know you're comfy like this but you have to turn to your side for me." You spoke softly, running a hand up his arm and pushing in the direction he needed to turn.

"Hngh..." Frank protested sleepily. "Why?"

Stifling a smile at the grumpy face he made, you continued to push. "C'mon, you big baby. On your side, so you don't choke and die overnight."

Huffing frustratedly, Frank flopped onto his side, glaring at you.

“Thank you. Do you need a blanket?” You asked, laughing indignantly when he flipped you off. “That was an actual question, asshole.”

Standing up, you took a step towards the worn armchair on the other side of the coffee table, nearly tumbling over when a force tugged on your wrist. Eyes closed again, Frank was poorly hiding a smile as he yanked your arm towards him with more strength than his inebriated self should have been capable of. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you feeling nice now?” You grumbled, balancing your weight over him precariously as you tried to escape his hold.

Tugging your arm again, Frank muttered a jumble of grouchy nonsense.

“Christ, Frank.” You snorted, rolling your eyes to the ceiling before sliding your palms underneath his shoulders to shift him over. Squishing onto the couch next to his head, you found yourself smiling as he wriggled towards you, settling his head into your lap with a relieved exhale. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a piece of work when you’re drunk?”

Your murmur was more for yourself than for him, but he responded nonetheless. “M’ria.”

It was far from the first time he’d spoken to you about his late wife, but hearing her name fall from his lips when he was in such a vulnerable state felt like a swift punch to the gut. Regaining your composure, you threaded your fingers into his hair. “Go to sleep, Frankie.”

As your nails softly scratched at his scalp, darkness crept into the corners of his vision, his eyes fluttering closed again.

The next few hours passed like fractions of a dream. A warm pliant surface beneath his cheek, a cool hand running through his hair. A whispered conversation and hushed groans. A loss of contact.

Somewhere in the haze of alcohol-induced fatigue, Curtis appeared, taking over your role as his babysitter. Curt was good at taking care of him...he was a lot less pretty than you were, though.

“Christ, I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that.” Curtis griped, insulted by comment Frank hadn't intended to share, shoving a bottle of some form of sports drink at him. “Drink this.”

Scowling, Frank took a long swig. As he was gulping down the sugary liquid, his eyes locked on a piece of fabric draped over the back of the couch. Setting the drink down, and nearly spilling it all over himself in the process, he grabbed clumsily for the coat, clutching it to his chest when his fingers finally landed around it. ”She forgot it.“

”What?“ Curtis, rubbing a knuckle between his brows, looked unamused.

”Her coat, Curt.“ Frank whispered, holding it out to show the other man. ”We gotta find her. She forgot it. It's winter.“

Shaking his head with a huff, Curtis dropped his head into his hands. ”I'm sure she'll be fine without it for a night. Go to sleep, Frank.“

Frank frowned, still focused on the piece of plastic in his hands.

Grappling his pocket, he eventually pulled out his phone and flipped it open, squinting at the bright screen as it powered on. Scrolling through the list of contacts, he found the one he wanted and dialed.

”Frank,“ Curtis sighed, but didn't stop him from calling you.

Receiving your voicemail, Frank groaned. “Sweetheart, you better not be frozen to death out there somewhere. You left your coat here. You gotta come and get it, ok? I don't want you to be cold.”

”Hang up and sleep, Castle.“ Called the medic from Frank's bedroom. When had he gone in there?

Ignoring his friend's explicit instructions, Frank sighed. “Please come back. I like having you here. You just...you take such good care of me, and I really don't deserve it, but you do it anyways, and--” The phone was snatched out of his hand.

“Frank says goodnight.” Curtis snapped into the phone before ending the call.

“Hey!” Frank glowered, fumbling for Curtis's hand to take the device back.

“Go to sleep, Frank. You can talk to her tomorrow. Trust me, you'll be grateful I took this away when you've sobered up. You don't need to be spilling your secrets to her over voicemail.“ Spreading a blanket over Frank, Curtis glared at him. ”Close your eyes, Marine. I am not playing games with you tonight.“

Rolling to his other side so that Curtis couldn't see him, he smirked at the other man's final snort. ”Real mature, Frank. I'm taking your bed. I'll be out to check on you every once in a while.“

As Curtis retreated into the other room, Frank waited impatiently, staring at the back of the couch until he heard a door close. Grinning in satisfaction, he withdrew his burner phone from his other pocket, opening it up and inputting your number.

“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone. I wasn't done talking to ya. I like talkin' to ya, it makes me feel...god, I'm bad at this. I dunno, sweetheart, you make me feel good...special. I haven't felt that way in a long damn time. But you just make it seem so easy. You make everything seem so easy...”

The intense rolling of his stomach is what ruptured his unconsciousness, igniting a spark of adrenaline powerful enough to carry him to the bathroom so he could collapse in front of the toilet.

God, he felt fucking awful. His head was pulsing with the beginnings of a migraine, his throat burned with acid as he emptied his stomach repeatedly. Moaning with regret, he slapped the lever to flush the toilet, sinking back against the cool porcelain of the bathtub behind him.

“Was wondering when that would happen. David owes me 20 bucks.” Curtis leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom with his arms crossed, smirking at Frank's evident misery.

“Glad I could help.” Frank muttered, digging the heel of his hand into one of his eyes in an attempt to offset some of the building pressure in his skull.

“You look like shit.” Curtis chuckled, passing him a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers.

“Fuck off.” Frank grumbled, rinsing out his mouth before throwing back a few pills.

“Well, clearly you're feeling more like yourself. Christ.” Curtis snorted.

“God, Curt, what happened last night?” Frank grimaced. 

“Besides you drinking enough to kill a racehorse? Not much. Unless you count me discovering your collection of burner phones as ‘interesting’.”

Curtis’s words were innocuous, but Frank felt a wave of dread crash over him at the implications. 

“What collection?“ He asked mournfully, hoping fiercely that Curt didn’t mean–

“The one you were using to call your girl.” Fuck. “Every time I turned around, there was a new phone in your hands. Can't say I didn't try to stop you from making an ass of yourself, you just managed to do it anyway.”

“Fuck!” Frank cursed. That was exactly what he was hoping to avoid. “Please tell me you're jokin'.”

“Unfortunately not, Frank.“ The other man laughed, but his brow pinched in sympathy. “You're gonna have some explaining to do, I expect.”

“Fuck me. What did I say?” He looked to his friend pleadingly, feeling like his impending doom was perched just over his shoulders.

“I didn't catch all of it, but the parts I heard were pretty damning.” Curtis rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Frank’s intense eyes.

Mustering the dwindling energy he had, Frank lurched to his feet, stumbling towards the door. Thankfully, Curtis caught him when his balance faltered after a few steps.

“Woah, shit, Frank! Where are you goin'?” Curtis chastised preemptively, letting Frank lean against him as he ambled to the foyer.

“To apologize, or delete that message. Whatever needs to be done.” Frank’s jaw was stiff, his voice gruff with fear and discomfort. Undraping his arm from Curt’s shoulders, Frank bent down to grab his boots, halting as the motion caused a spike of pain to shoot through his brain. Clenching his fingers around his thighs, he bit his tongue to keep from hurling again.

“Jesus, Frank. This isn't a goddamn military operation.” Curt scoffed, kicking Frank’s shoes closer to him with a grunt.

Frank huffed a bitter laugh. “You're right, that would be easier.” Squatting down, Frank shoved his boots on and laced them up.

“You need serious help, you know that?” Curtis sighed, only waiting a moment before slipping his own shoes on. “C'mon. I'll drive you.”

Tipping your chin up, you let the final dregs of your latte trickle across your tongue, silently begging for those few drops to contain the caffeine you'd need for the rest of the day. You were practically giddy with lack of sleep and the immense amount of sugar you'd dumped into the coffee to make it palatable–you weren't used to so many extra espresso shots.

After looking out for Frank at the bar, wrangling him on the journey home, leaving abruptly to accompany your distraught roommate and her accident-prone boyfriend to the hospital, and then staying with said roommate all night while her boyfriend got a cast put over his broken arm–you were understandably exhausted. And, if you were honest with yourself, a bit aggravated that you'd been ripped away from Frank when he was so unusually receptive to your affection.

It wasn't as if you could just call Curtis and ask to switch roles again, it was almost noon. Frank would probably be up and hungover by now–far grouchier than the cuddly lump he'd become last night when he passed out on your lap. No use to mourn that loss any further, you supposed. It wouldn't be that hard to make him agree to another bet, after all. 

Lounging on the couch, your eyes slipped shut for a moment, flying open in shock when you heard a knock at the door. Of course someone would show up right after you sat down. Inhaling deeply to keep from groaning, you dragged yourself off of the couch and to the door. Huh, speak of the devil.

Unlatching the door, you rested a hand on your hip as you took in the posture of the man before you. Frank looked awful, a perfect example of the saying “green around the gills”. He was slouched forward, barely meeting your gaze, and his complexion was so alarmingly pale that it was more translucent. Before you could ask what the hell he was doing on your doorstep, he spoke.

“I need to see your phone.” His tone was pained and especially gravelly, which made sense given how hungover he must be right now.

“Damn, Castle. Hello to you too.” You laughed, the humor of it not fully reaching your eyes as concern churned in your gut. Stepping out of the way, you allowed him to stride past you into the apartment. 

Looking over his shoulder at you sheepishly, he cringed. “Sorry, hi. Your phone?”

Well he’s clearly on a mission. You had to admit, you were curious what he was so riled up about. 

Your eyes narrowing, you gestured to where it sat on the counter, anchored by its designated cord. “It's charging. It died while I was running around last night and I just got home, so.” Frowning in confusion, you picked it up to show him. 

“Thank god.” Frank let his face fall into his palms, collapsing onto your couch. 

“Why do you need my phone, Frank?” Intrigue still piqued, you flicked a thumb across the screen to activate your phone.

Realizing he’d made a fatal error in his anguished haze, Frank swiveling in his seat, craning his neck just in time to see a massive grin break out across your face. “Shit wait–”

“Jesus Frank, are you ok? Why did you call me so many times?” You laughed, scrolling through the myriad of notifications you’d apparently missed from him. 

“Sweetheart I'm begging you–” Standing on his wobbly legs, he hurried to remove the device from your hands, but it was too late.

“You left multiple voicemails?” You looked at him with an almost pompous smile, clearly taking satisfaction in his downfall.

“Please don’t–” He made for your phone, but his reflexes were lacking. Spinning just out of his reach, you raised the phone above your head victoriously.

“Voicemail number one!” You announced proudly, pressing play on the recording. 

Frank’s voice sounded tinny through the small speakers, or maybe it was just being drowned out by the ringing in his ears. “You forgot your coat…”

“Aw, Frank, that's so sweet!” You spoke over the short message, your lip sticking out slightly as you looked at him with gratitude.

Stepping towards you with his palms displayed, he tried for a placating tone. “Yup. That was all, no need to listen to any more of–”

“Voicemail number 2!” You crowed, darting out of the kitchen as he grabbed wildly for the offending phone once more. 

“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone...”

“This ain't funny.” Frank growled, scurrying after you into the living room “Turn those off!” 

“You left them for me!” You giggled, holding the phone to your ear and squealing with delight at his first confession.

“You make everything seem so easy–”

“Aw, Frank–”

“It's so hard for me to focus when you're around–”

By the grace of some higher power, his drunk rambling cut off. Nearly keeling over, he leaned heavily against the back of your couch. “Thank Christ.”

“VOICEMAIL NUMBER 3!” You said gleefully, practically dancing with joy as Frank resumed chasing you.

“Goddamn it.” He muttered. He should have known he wasn’t that lucky.

“I can't stop thinkin' about ya–”

His words were coming back to him now, and it was crystal clear that he had very limited time to retrieve the phone before your relationship with him was irreparably damaged. Nearly bowling your coffee table over, he managed to snatch the hem of your sweatshirt, but you simply slipped out of it and resumed your lap of the space. 

“I can never stop thinkin about ya–”

You leapt onto the couch and over the arm, making for your bedroom. How on earth were you this agile after last night? He was pretty sure this would be the last thing he ever did. 

“I hope you made it home safe–”

You stumbled around your bed frame and Frank saw an opening. 

“You shoulda stayed here with me–”

His eyes narrowed, vision tunneling like a predator’s. Frank bounded forward and your eyes widened as you realized he had you cornered.

“I'll always keep you safe–”

Finally, he arrived within the distance he needed, snatching you by the waist and spinning you into him. Your chests were pressed together, quivering with the force of labored breaths, but before he could hit the power button– 

“Cause, I dunno, I just love ya, sweetheart. I'd never let anythin' happen to ya.”

His world blurred, his heart pounding so aggressively it felt like it was creeping out of his rib cage. It was done. It was over.

Panting, you looked up at him with a furrowed brow. His heart sank as he watched the realization crawl across your face. 

“You...you love me?” You asked meekly as Frank took a step away from you.

His entire body felt like it was on fire, he couldn’t decide whether he needed to scream or be sick. An apology roosted on his tongue, but his mouth was too dry for the words to come out.

“You love me.” You murmured, looking at the phone as if it would explain his words for you.

“I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinkin'–” He choked out, scrambling backwards sloppily so that he wouldn’t witness your pity.

“Frank–” You spoke softly, the sympathetic edge to your words cutting his composure like a blade.

“Christ, I'll just go, I'm sorry–” He whispered, his throat tightening with immense regret.

“Frank” Your fingers suddenly wrapped around his wrist, turning him back to face you. He inhaled deeply, bracing himself for the rejection and subsequent loss of connection that he’d stupidly caused. But it never came. 

Instead, your free hand cupped his neck, pulling his lips to meet yours. His knees wavered, nearly giving out as your soft lips met his. He was bombarded with surprise and affection and relief. Pulling back from him, you rubbed a finger over his nape and smiled softly.

“I love you too.”

“You–” He was too shocked to even ask a full question. His knees finally gave out and he fell against you. 

“Woah, careful there, tough guy.” You chuckled, nudging him backwards so that he crumbled onto your mattress instead of taking you both to the ground. 

Listing sideways onto your mattress, he let you prod at his limbs until he was fully seated. Bile was swiftly rising in his throat, but whether it was from the chase or the resulting emotions, he was unsure. Swallowing roughly, he grimaced. 

Biting your lip, you let go of his wrist to stroke your blissfully cool fingers along his cheek. “Let me get you some water, ok? I’ll be right back.”

Eyes falling closed, Frank took a handful of measured breaths, lips twitching with a small smile despite his current agony. You loved him too. He had a feeling that he should be skeptical, but he was experiencing too much to consider that at the moment. For now, he would just accept this outcome, however miraculous it might seem. 

Hearing your soft footsteps back into the room, he opened his eyes–immediately regretting it when his head convulsed with a renewed stab of pain. Moaning softly, he scrunched his eyes shut, bringing his thumbs up to his brows to knead them in the hope it would lessen the ache. 

“Head bothering you?” Your voice was impossibly soft as you knelt by his side, gently prying one of his hands away from his face and pressed a cold glass into it. 

“Yah. Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to crash here.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I already texted Curt and told him you’d be staying here for a bit.” Pulling back your sheets on the other side of the bed, you propped yourself up next to him. “Tired?”

Grumbling affirmatively, Frank tilted his head into your shoulder, rolling as far into you as he could stomach. “But we should probably–”

“We got all the time in the world, sweetheart.” You stroked his stubbled chin languidly, smirking as his expression relaxed beneath your touch. “Just sleep. After last night, we both need it.”

“God, I love you.” He murmured, throwing an arm over your hips and letting you nestle in close. 

You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you too, Frank.” 

Frank made a mental reminder to buy Lieberman a beer the next time they went out. He’d never admit it to David, but he was beyond grateful that his uninhibited self had finally made a move. 

Feeling more content than he had in months, he let himself drift off to the sound of your soft breathing.

Thanks for reading!!

[imtryingbuck]

Old As A Dinosaur

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: reader learns something about her boyfriend

Word count: 842

Warnings: fluff. short and sweet.

A/N: this idea came from the wonderful @buckys-wintersoldier❤️

Masterlist

The giggles coming from the living room greeted you the moment you stepped foot into the house, as you walked in to the room you saw your son Sebastian sitting on the couch tucked in to the side of your boyfriend Bucky.

Bucky didn’t bat an eye when you told him that you had a three year old son. When he met Seb for the first time it seemed that both your son and boyfriend forgot that you were even there. The first night Bucky stayed over Seb asked if Bucky could put him to bed, then when a nightmare involving monkeys that were trying to eat his toes woke him up he begged for Bucky to come and save him.

Six months after Bucky had met Sebastian the rest of the Avengers met him too. His squeals of pure joy had everyone laughing other than Bucky as Sam had Seb in his arms and flew the two around. Your boyfriend actually threatened Sam that he would end him if he dropped the three year old. Said three year old who tried to lift up Thor’s hammer, then was using Captain Americas shield as a sled.

You had actually been pulled aside by Seb’s teacher and was told that Seb had been lying all day by telling everyone he knew the Avengers, you just raised your eyebrow and laughed informing her that he was not lying at all.

“Hi pretty mama” Bucky greeted when he noticed you standing there.

“Hi pwetty mama” Seb repeated making the pair of you laugh.

“Hi my handsome men, what are you two doing?”

“Dinos” pointing at the tv Sebastian sighed happily at seeing his favourite movie for what felt like the thousandth time.

“How was work babe?”

“It was alright, nothing exciting today. I’m going to get dinner started”

“No need pretty girl, me and little man here did it we was just waiting on you. Go and get changed and then we can eat” Bucky says before telling Seb that it was dinner time and promising the three year old that they could carry on watching as soon as they had finished eating. Doing as he says you head upstairs changing into comfier clothes.

“Follow me pwetty mama, dinner time” laughing you take your sons waiting hand letting him lead you into the dinning room as Bucky served the food.

Halfway through the meal Sebastian was trying to whisper to Bucky who kept responding with “I told you it’s a secret”

“But pwease it’s mama”

“Do you think we can trust her?” Bucky’s eyes squinted looking at you suspiciously.

“Yes! Its mama she not tell”

“Okay, but she has to do the secret pinky swear before we tell her” Your eyes moved between the pair with your eyebrow pinched together. “Pretty mama what we’re about to tell you is top secret, you have to pinky swear that you can never tell anyone what you’re about to hear”

“Pwomise mama”

“I promise” both of them hold up their pinky fingers up waiting for you to wrap yours around theirs you waited patiently to hear this top secret news.

“Okay little man, you-you can tell her” Bucky says with a nervous tone lacing his voice.

“Mama… Buck met dinos” Sebastian tells you in the most serious voice the three year old could muster.

“Ex-what?”

“Yep. He was fwends with them and-and had pet T-Rex’s”

Looking at Bucky with your eyebrow raised he nodded solemnly keeping his face void of emotion.

“I-I didn’t know that”

“Top secret mama uncle Stevie don’t know so no telling no one!”

“Buck your secret is safe with me, don’t worry” you tell him earnestly.

“Thank you pretty girl, it honestly feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders now that I’ve been able to tell my family the truth” he takes yours and Sebs hands in his and squeezes.

Honestly he deserves an Oscar for his performance.

Seb giggles and promises that he will never ever tell anyone then carries on eating his dinner as if he hadn’t just told you some life changing news about your partner. Bucky looks at you and smiles before doing the same as Seb.

Finishing your dinner, you tell Bucky that you’ll wash up - he did try and argue that he would do it but Seb begged him to watch the dinos. Walking into the living room once again, your eyebrow rosed for the umpteenth time that night as you watch Bucky with his arms pulled close to his chest, Seb coping him and both bouncing around.

“Look mama we’re dinos!” Seb giggled before roaring like a dinosaur.

“Come on pretty mama, be dinos with us” Bucky winked then roaring and chirping like Sebastian was doing.

If anyone had looked in your front windows that night they would have thought there was something wrong with all three of you.

The three of you were roaring and acting as dinosaurs. And honestly, it was the best way to end a stressful day at work.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[annievrse]

my love, mine all mine

satoru x reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: just some moments between you and satoru <3 w/c: 1.6k c/w: literally every piece ends with 'i love you' which was unintentional, but we move - this is a fic about love anyway, so i guess i'll let it slide. enjoy!

12:26 pm

“Will you kiss me?” Satoru laughs, making grabby hands at you. “Please?”

“Will you kiss me back this time?” You counter, an eyebrow raised, stepping out of his reach. 

Satoru rolls his eyes, though the glint of mischief never leaves his bright eyes. “Of course.” 

“Fine,” You eye him wearily. But before you lean in, you put your finger up. “If you don’t, you’re sleeping on the couch because I just want to kiss my boyfriend, and you aren’t letting me!”

“I solemnly swear I will kiss you,” He laughs, large hands covering your cheeks. You stare up at him, eyes flickering to his tongue, which is currently darting out to wet his lips. "Promise."

“Satoru…” You whisper, hands grazing his abdomen under his black t-shirt. 

“I know, baby,” He mumbles, eyes on your mouth as he leans down to kiss your lips. 

But, he abruptly pulls away after kissing you for an incredibly short amount of time, a betrayed expression on his pretty face. “Hey!”

You squeeze your eyes shut, laughing uncontrollably while stepping out of his grip. 

When you open your eyes, Satoru stands with a pout, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Aww, big baby,” You giggle, reaching to push the hair on his forehead back. 

“You didn’t kiss me back!” He sighs, his pout growing. 

“Let me guess,” You smile. “It’s only funny when you do it?” 

Satoru nods. “Obviously! Look at me! Do I look like I deserve no kisses?” 

You shake your head. “I hate you.” 

He opens his arms and brings you into his chest, kissing your forehead. “I love you, too.”

7:57 pm

"Hello, my other half," Satrou greets as he shuts the front door. “What are we making?” 

“We are making miso soup and chicken gyozas,” You smile before lifting the spoon that was stirring the soup out of the pot. “Here, try some.” 

Satoru bounces over, slipping his blindfold off his temples to hang around his neck. 

You lift the spoon and direct it toward his mouth, careful not to spill any. You hold your hand under his jaw as he drinks, his bright eyes following the spoon. 

And when he’s done, Satoru’s eyes flick to yours, and his jaw falls open. “Wow, just wow,” One of his arms is outstretched, the other behind his back. “You are incredible. Amazing soup. Wow, what would I even eat without you? God…”

Pleased with his response but suspicious, you narrow your eyes at him. “What did you do?” 

Satoru’s face scrunches up in immediate guilt, and he sighs loudly. “Why must you know me so well?” 

You don’t reply, folding your arms and staring at him until he answers. 

“Fine! I may have, well, did break my wrist today—”

“Satoru!” You exclaim, trying to look at the arm he keeps hidden behind his back. 

“I know! Honest mistake, though. Yuuji wanted me to show him the skateboarding tricks I had been bragging about—”

“You’ve never skateboarded.”

“I know! Funny, right?” Satoru rubs the back of his head with his uninjured hand. “Anyway, I hit the sickest kickflip and then, you know, fell really hard on my ass and broke my wrist... But, hey! At least it made my students laugh!”

Your stare is deadpan, but you’re worried about his wrist, so you step forward to see it. 

“Ouch! No touchy!” He grabs his wrist in his other hand, turning his body away from you.

“Satoru,” You say unamused. “Show me.” 

He pouts and sticks his arm out before him. “You should’ve seen it. Blood everywhere. I had to get like 93 stitches to sew me back up. A real disaster.” 

You roll your eyes and delicately hold his forearm in your hands, assessing the damage. 

"...You wanna tell me how dumb I am?"

"Later.”

Satoru sighs and watches you examine the cast on his wrist. He glances at the clock on the kitchen wall and then at the soup boiling on the stove.

“You’re an idiot,” You laugh, surprising Satoru, who raises his eyebrows at your change in reaction, forgetting about the dinner. 

He squints at you, gauging if your laughter is real before he throws blame around; otherwise, he would be cleaning the bathroom for his stupidity. “Blame Yuuji, he wanted to see my tricks.” 

“Don’t blame the kid, Satoru! You chose to get on the damn skateboard. This is entirely your fault,” You shake your head incredulously, a smile still on your cheeks. 

Satoru pouts again and wraps his arms around your head, resting his cheek on your hair. “Yes, nurse! You can bathe me! Thank you so much for asking!” He exclaims. 

You circle your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. “You’re so lucky I love you, Gojo.” 

2:58 am

The apartment is silent when Satoru returns home. It’s late.

The mission had been more draining than usual — some special grade had murdered some people in Yokohama. It was nothing new, but the reaction of the people he had saved had flipped a switch. Instead of being grateful, like most, they had been terrified of him, screaming and crying as he tried to console them, causing him to believe he was more a monster than a hero — he'd never experienced such a reaction that hurt him so deeply.

A small sniffle wakes you from slumber, though you try not to alert Satoru of your awareness.

“I know you’re awake,” His voice comes out raspy and soft, making you sit up. Satoru stands awkwardly in the doorway of the ensuite, wringing out his hands. 

“‘Toru, what are you doing? Come to bed,” You mumble, eyes adjusting to the bedroom's darkness. You follow the hem of the duvet to Satoru’s side and pull up the covers to invite him in. 

“I–I’ll sleep on the couch. I didn’t want to wake you.” 

You furrow your brows at the sound of his dejected tone and fold over the blanket to get out of bed. “You’re being ridiculous.” 

“No!” He exclaims, hands out before him to stop you from coming any closer. Your heart stops at the sight, and tears fill your eyes. 

“Satoru? What’s going on?” You make your way toward him slowly.

He lets out a choked sigh and sniffles. “Don’t come near me, I’m dangerous, okay?” 

“Baby,” You state, suddenly becoming wary of him. “What happened?”

Satoru can’t let you near him for fear he would hurt you, just like the people he saved were screaming. So, he steps back quickly into the bathroom and shuts the door, leaving you outside confused. 

Before knocking on the ensuite door, you blink a few times to ensure this is real. “Satoru?” 

“Please, don’t be afraid of me…” 

His cries and broken speech cause tears to spring to your eyes. You rest your forehead on the cold wood and sigh shakily. 

"I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong," You say, blinking back tears.

“No, you don’t understand. I’m dangerous,” He whimpers, hiccuping afterwards. 

“You keep saying that…” You wipe your eyes with your hands and push the handle down — relieved to find it unlocked.

Curled up against the bathtub is Satoru, head between his knees. “Please leave…” 

You shake your head, even though he can’t see you, and sit beside him, matching his posture. “I’m not leaving.” 

Satoru lifts his head and faces you; his cheeks are flushed, but his blindfold still covers his eyes, and you tilt your head to better look at him — you see no blood or injuries. 

“You’re gonna have to tell me what’s wrong, okay? I don’t know what’s happening, and I’m scared, ‘Toru.” 

'I’m scared' are the only words he picks from your sentence, and Satoru’s heart drops. His ears are ringing, and he can feel bile rising in his throat and the thought of being the reason you’re scared is enough to make him physically ill. 

Like a warning, he mutters your name deeply and refuses to look at you. “I’m scaring you, huh?”

Your face contorts into a bewildered expression, and you shake your head. "You're not something I'm afraid of, Satoru; you're something I worship," You whisper. “I could never be scared of you. You’re, like, the least scary person ever.” 

This gets a laugh out of him, though it's restrained. “Many think the opposite.” 

“This is about the mission,” You conclude, nodding when you finally understand. He doesn’t reply, and you continue. “What? Did they say you’re terrifying because you saved their lives? Because you put your life on the line, a life I care more about than my own, to save their lives?” You scoff, threading your arm through his and holding onto his elbow. “Fuck, ‘Toru. I wanna kill them for making you feel like this.” 

And finally, he laughs properly. Satoru’s body shakes as he does so, and the sound is one you want to bottle up and keep for eternity. 

“You crack me up, darling,” He smiles when he looks at you. “I don’t doubt you for a second.” 

“Good,” You mumble, using your other hand to push his head down onto your shoulder. Kissing the top of his head, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and bring his head to rest on your chest. “Because I would fight for you in a heartbeat, even though you can do it yourself anyway.”

“Thank you,” Satoru whispers, circling his arms around your torso. “You know I love you, right?” 

You sigh, hugging him tighter. “Yeah, I love you infinitely more anyway, so…” 

“Shut up.”

[suntoru]

─ ✰ TO YOU, WHO I LOVED THE MOST.

─ SYNOPSIS: letting go is hard to do. satoru can't imagine a universe where you are not his world, you'll always be. he'll always love you, just in secret.

─ WARNINGS: angst, breaking up, mentions of a toxic relationship, reader referred to as his pretty girl once, crying, swearing, 3k words

─ AUTHOR'S NOTE: dedicated to one of my moots. i'll always love u no matter where you go, even if it means i can't be there with you. i'm so incredibly proud of you, never forget how much i treasure you. 그래도, 놔두기가 힘들어.

he's practiced this. he had rehearsed this moment meticulously, running through the scenario in his mind countless times like a well-worn script. standing before the mirror in his bedroom, he'd practiced every word, every gesture, until they felt like second nature. it was supposed to be simple: just a quick stop to gather his belongings, utter a final goodbye, and then depart. and then cry for the rest of his life because he won't ever love anybody in the same way ever again.

in his carefully constructed mental landscape, there were no more than five conceivable outcomes, each neatly categorized and mentally prepared for. but you, clutching onto his sleeve like no tomorrow, begging him to stay wasn't one of them.

your knuckles strain against the fabric, turning white under the force of your grip, while fat tears trace pathways down your cheeks. every word that tumbles from your lips is tinged with disorientation, punctuated by cracks that mirror the fractures in your heart. you're crying, your sobs echoing in the small space between you, and with each tear shed, it feels like another piece of him crumbles away.

your breathing is ragged, hysterically bawling your eyes out as he stands there solemnly. it's a painful reminder that his presence in your life only brings you heartache and agony. he can feel the weight of your anguish pressing down on him, a burden he can't shake off no matter how hard he tries. his heart clenches in his chest, aching with a depth you may never fully comprehend.

"i'm sorry," you manage to choke out between sobs, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. "please don't leave." each word is a desperate plea, a futile attempt to hold onto something slipping away. it infuriates him, but not at you— god, never at you. the anger that burns within him is directed solely at himself. why are you sorry? you should be cursing him out, scratching up his car and slapping the shit out of him.

he's the one who fucked up, he's the one at fault, the one who shattered your heart into a million irreparable pieces.

so why, he wonders, why are you the one suffering? it only intensifies the ache in his chest, making it all the more agonizing to turn away from you.

"why are you crying?" gojo murmurs, his voice soft as he tenderly brushes away the tears staining your cheeks. it's a gentle gesture, one filled with a tenderness he can't afford to indulge in. each touch feels like a stab to his heart, a reminder of the pain he's caused and the irreparable damage he's wrought upon your fragile heart.

it hurts— hurts more than he can bear to know that this is the last time he'll ever see you, to know that the final memory etched into his mind will be of you, tears streaming down your face, struggling to even breathe. his pretty girl.

his hand moves to caress yours, his touch tender yet firm as he tries to pry your fingers from the fabric of his shirt. but your grip is like iron, unyielding and desperate, only serving to elicit more heart-wrenching cries of pain from deep within your chest.

"you can't go," you plead, your voice small, trembling with anguish as tears continue to cascade down your cheeks, leaving trails of devastation in their wake. "y-you promised... you promised me that it was going to be us forever and ever. y-you pinkie promised me..." your words cut through the air like shards of glass, each syllable a piercing reminder of the shattered dreams and broken promises that now lay scattered at your feet.

the weight of your despair hangs heavy in the air, suffocating and relentless, as the reality of his impending departure threatens to crush you beneath its crushing weight. everything hurts— the ache in your chest, the rawness of your throat, the emptiness in your soul— as you cling desperately to the fleeting remnants of a love that was once so pure and true.

"i know," he whispers, the words barely audible over the sound of your heartbreak. each syllable is heavy with the weight of his remorse, his longing, his love. he knows he said it, but he can no longer mean it, his heart screaming out in agony as he watches you crumble before him. despite how every instinct in his soul is telling him to stay, his rational mind, cold and calculating, reasons against it, reminding him of the harsh truth he can no longer deny.

your heart is pure, untainted by the darkness that consumes his own. it doesn't deserve someone like him, someone who has caused you nothing but pain and sorrow. he was selfish to ever believe that it could work, to entertain the foolish notion that a heart as precious as yours could ever love a heart as tarnished as his.

he is too broken to love. he's toxic, a poison seeping into every corner of your life, corroding the beauty and innocence you possess. you deserve so much better, someone who can love and cherish you in the way you truly deserve, in a way he will never be capable of. it tears at his soul, ripping him apart from the inside out, to let you go and to watch you find happiness with someone else. but he knows he has to do it. for your sake, for his sake, for the sake of the love he once believed in but now understands he can never truly be worthy of.

"i'm sorry," he sighs, the weight of his words heavy with sincerity. deep within his being, he truly regrets his actions. his voice, once meant to sing praises, now tainted by harsh tones that should never have been directed at you. his eyes, crafted to adore you, now bear the weight of regretful stares instead of the admiration they were intended for. his hands, meant to hold you tenderly, have instead caused you to flinch, a painful reminder of the hurt he's inflicted.

he's a monster. he's ruined you.

"it'll be okay without me," he promises, his voice trembling with the weight of his sorrow. he's trying desperately not to let the tears escape, not to show you the depth of his pain. a thousand times before, you've weathered storms together, but this time feels different. this time, it's final. but to you, it feels like the end of the world.

gojo's not just a pebble in the vast expanse of your life; he's a rock, solid and unwavering, filled with the very essence of your existence. without him, it feels like the air has been sucked from your lungs, leaving you gasping for breath in a world that suddenly feels cold and empty. the thought of facing each day without him by your side is unbearable, a daunting prospect that leaves you feeling lost and adrift. he's been your anchor, your guiding light through the darkest of times, and now, as he stands before you, ready to walk away, it feels like the light is dimming, fading into darkness.

"no, it won't," you croak out, your voice breaking with the weight of your despair. how could it ever be okay? it feels like the sun is leaving the earth, casting everything into darkness, leaving everything living to wither and die. you will die without him. how can you face a world without his presence, without his love to sustain you? you cling to him desperately, your grip tightening as if you could anchor him to your side with sheer willpower alone.

in your heart, you already know it's over. but maybe, just maybe, if you beg a little harder, if you hold on a little tighter, you'll be able to convince him to stay. your heart races with panic, the fear of losing him consuming you from the inside out. tears continue to stream down your face unabated, blurring your vision until all you can see is the hazy outline of his form before you. you sniffle, your breath hitching in your throat as you struggle to compose yourself. but how can you be expected to let go? how can you afford to lose him?

"it isn't the end," he reasons softly, his voice cracking with emotion as he presses your face deeper into his chest, shielding you from the tear that escapes his eye. "just the end of our story. but i promise there'll be someone else. someone else who is perfect for you, someone else who won't ever hurt you like i have." his words feel hollow, like empty promises meant to soothe the ache in your heart. how can he speak of someone else when you know, deep down in the depths of your soul, that you were meant to be together?

"but i don't want someone else," you sob, your words muffled against his chest. "i want- need you." your confession hangs heavy in the air, you're making this so much more difficult, and he can feel the weight of your pain pressing down on him, threatening to suffocate him with its intensity. but he can't be selfish again. he can't hold on to you when he knows deep down that he's not what you need, that he's only bringing you more pain and heartache.

so he holds you tighter, his arms aching with the effort to keep you close, even as he knows he has to let you go.

"one day, years from now, you'll be thinking of this day and laugh. when you're with the man of your dreams, walking down the aisle in your pretty white dress... you'll be so thankful for him," gojo says, his voice carrying a bittersweet melody that echoes through the empty spaces between you. his smile, though strained, is meant to offer comfort, yet his heart is turning blue with the weight of his own sorrow.

"at the end of the day, it wasn't meant to be us. at least not in this lifetime. in this one, i'm a lesson," he continues, his words heavy with resignation. he knows that he's been a chapter in your story, but not the final one. and while his heart aches at the thought of your pain, he knows that sometimes love means letting go, even when every fiber of your being screams to hold on.

"i know it hurts right now," he murmurs, his voice soft and tender as he reaches out to brush away your tears. "but there will be a day where it won't hurt anymore. that i can promise."

you shake your head, unable to accept his words, unable to bear the thought of a future without him by your side. your head aches with the weight of your sorrow, and all you want is to fall asleep in his arms and wake up to find that this was all just a bad dream, that this really isn't goodbye. but reality is cruel, and as much as you wish it were otherwise, you know that this is the end of your story together.

"w-we can work this out," you manage to choke out, your voice trembling with the effort of holding back your emotions. your words are desperate, a last-ditch attempt to salvage what's left of your shattered relationship. you know deep down that it's futile, but you can't bear to let go without a fight. "w-we can go to therapy, and things will be okay again..." his touch is tender as he strokes your cheek, his own eyes brimming with sorrow and regret as he gazes down at you. his heart aches with the weight of your pain, but he knows that staying will only prolong the inevitable.

"i think we both know it's too late for that," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. he knows that he's already cracked your heart, and any longer he stays will only make it shatter beyond repair.

"can you do something for me?" gojo's voice is tender, his touch gentle as he cups your face, tilting it upwards to meet his gaze. "hate me. slap me, cuss me out, just please... don't cry anymore. i want you to forget about me and move on." you're too pretty for all these tears, he thinks, even as they cascade down your cheeks, each drop a testament to the depth of your pain. but even in your sorrow, you're still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

his heart aches at the thought of causing you more pain, but he knows that letting you go is the only way forward. what he's asking of you feels impossible. how could you ever forget about him? even if you wanted to, you don't think you'd ever be able to hate him. the mere thought of it sends a fresh wave of anguish crashing over you, leaving you gasping for air amidst your tears. you can't bear the idea of moving on without him, of letting go of the love that has defined your existence for so long. your throat constricts, a choked sob escaping your lips as the weight of his request settles heavily upon you.

"i love you," you say weakly, your voice barely above a whisper, a last desperate attempt to hold onto him, to make him see the depth of your love. tears blur your vision, cascading down your cheeks in a torrent, but still, you cling to him, refusing to let go.

'i love you too,' he wants to say. yet the words that come out are a pleading, "please don't." but actions speak louder than words. his touch is familiar, comforting, as he combs through your hair like he used to when you cried over silly little things, on those off days when everything felt overwhelming. his fingers draw comforting patterns on your back, tracing constellations of stars as if to remind you that even in the darkest of nights, there is still beauty to be found.

you don't want to let go of him, because letting go means accepting that it's real, that it's truly over. it means saying goodbye to lazy sundays together, to midnight makeouts, to screaming karaoke in the car. letting go means he'll become a stranger, a mere memory, something that you both swore on your very lives would never happen.

you're lost without satoru, and he's lost without you. no exchange of 'you were a wonderful experience' passes between you two, for both of you understood, without needing words, that the other was everything. but what's shattered can't be pieced back together, and if this continues, you'll both suffocate under the weight of what once was. and the truth is, you're both better off apart, but it'll never feel like it.

no one will ever understand you like satoru did. no one will intuitively sense your emotions with just a glance. no one will ever fathom the extent of your love for him. the child within your heart stubbornly rejects it, unwilling to let your prince charming depart from your fairy tale. it takes every ounce of strength for you to loosen your grip, to slowly let go. and it takes everything for him to gently coax your hand away, to peel it off with tender care, and to press one last kiss to your trembling hand.

it takes all your willpower not to collapse on the floor, to stifle the gut-wrenching sobs that threaten to escape, and to acknowledge the painful reality that your satoru is leaving. for good. one glance is all it takes for both of you to know it means 'i love you.'

if he had known he had to leave so soon, he would have cherished every moment, held you close as if his life depended on it, loved you just a little bit harder.

he struggles against the overwhelming urge to hold on, his heart torn between the desperate longing to remain by your side and the agonizing realization that he can't undo the damage he's caused. you were, and still are, and will be for the rest of his life, his everything—the very essence of his existence, the light that guided him through the darkest of times. he promised to cherish and protect you, to love you with every fiber of his being, and deep down, he still means it with every beat of his broken heart.

but he was selfish, consumed by his own desires and fears, blind to the pain he inflicted upon you with every careless word and thoughtless action. he put himself first before you, heedless of the consequences, and in doing so, he did more than betray your trust— he betrayed your heart. as he gazes into your tear-stained eyes, he knows that he must bear the weight of his sins, must suffer a thousand lifetimes without you by his side. for in losing you, he has lost not only the love of his life but also a part of himself—a part that can never be reclaimed or restored.

"i know how much you hate goodbyes, so... see you again, my love. in the next universe." he whispers, his voice barely audible amidst the echoes of your shattered hearts. it's not just a statement; it's a solemn promise, a vow etched into the fabric of existence. with unwavering resolve, he swears, on his six eyes, that the next time your souls intertwine, he'll be worthy of cradling your heart.

in that universe, he'll stand by you through every joy and sorrow, holding you until the very end, sharing every breath until the final moment. in that universe, it will be his hand you hold as you walk down the aisle, his vows that bind you together as husband and wife, and his love that fills your days with endless warmth and devotion for all eternity.

just... not in this one.

and so, with a heavy heart and a soul burdened by regret, he forces himself to take a step back, to release you from the grip of his selfish desires, knowing that it's the only way you can ever truly be free. and with a heavy heart, he departs swiftly, each step echoing the ache within his soul. he resists the urge to glance back, knowing that if he does, he'll crumble under the weight of your sorrow, ensnaring both of you in an endless cycle of pain.

he leaves, not out of indifference, but out of a desperate hope that someone else will step in to fill the void he's left behind. it's a sacrifice he makes for your sake, a bittersweet farewell that holds the promise of a new beginning, even as it breaks both of your hearts irreparably.

a sacrifice to you, who he loved the most.

© SUNTORU 2022-2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[luimagines]

Absolute crackfic, please. Legend’s s/o meets the tree that he got engaged to that one time.

- glitter ✨

Oh my goodness- yes. Why not? XD

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

You walked through the forest with your boyfriend, hand in hand, on a peaceful and quiet afternoon. You weren't needed anywhere any time soon and the day was too pleasant to not enjoy it while you could.

No words were exchanged between the two of you.

It was a simple walk for the sake of just enjoying the company and enjoying the weather.

"Hey! Honey! I see you!"

Link freezes in his tracks you can see the blood drain from his face. He gets as white as sheet. You'd think he'd saw a ghost.

"Oh no."

"What is it?" You ask innocently. You start to look around, looking for the owner of the voice that no doubt called out to you. At you think they were calling out to you. You don't see any other people nearby. "Do you know that voice, Link?"

"Yes, keep walking." He tries to pull you along before you can find out who's talking.

"My love! Don't leave me! You never came back! Is this how you treat your fiancé?"

Now you dig your heels in. "Excuse me?"

Link- if possible- pales even harder and flinches. "It's not what you think."

"So you know this person?" You struggle to keep your tone even. "So what is it exactly?"

"Link!! My love! Come to me!"

You grit your teeth and turn on your heel, ready to leave to either fight someone or just go home.

"Wait!" Link grabs you and groans loudly. "I swear I can explain, just promise not to laugh. I thought I escaped this."

"I'm sorry?" You bite your tongue and raise a cool eyebrow.

He sighs and hang his head. "This way."

He leads you through the forest, off of the path and through the forest. You notice that seems to know the way very well. But you still don't see the one who's been calling out to you. Strange.

"Link! My love! Finally."

"Oh my-"

A tree. It's a tree.

"Link! The love of my life!" The tree cries. "I missed you so much! We have to plan the wedding and invite guests there's so much to do!"

Slowly, you turn your head to Link.

He looks like he would much rather be anywhere other than here. He tries to sneak a glance at you, notices you looking at him and flinches. 'I'm sorry', he mouths.

"You even brought a friend!" The tree cries. "How wonderful! I'm so happy to meet you! I am Link's fiancé."

You clear you throat, feeling you whole tirade be thrown out the window. At first you thought it was something serious that was about to ruin your relationship, but now you see why Link was so adamant on avoiding this.

"I...see." You find yourself saying. "I wasn't aware he had a fiancé."

"No?!" The tree is outraged. Then it huffs. "I can't believe it! After so many years, I would have thought he would have treated me kinder."

You nod solemnly. "Truly a travesty."

Link clenches his jaw and wills the fluster off of his face. "I'm sorry. It... wasn't my intention to stay away for so long."

"You better be sorry-!"

"Link." You cough and you try to send him the most bizarre look on your face because what on earth is this?

He bite his lip and shrugs unhelpfully. "....I was 12?"

"Twelve!?"

"Twelve? Yes! Twelve! We should have twelve saplings! What a lovely idea, Lovely Link!"

You snort and cover your mouth with your hand as quickly as you can. Link resigns to covering his entire face.

You're going to never let this go.

[imaginespazzi]

On The Road To Eternity

Three times Paige and Azzi fall asleep together and the one time they stay awake

(In which a kind writer gives y'all the last dose of real fluff before committing to angst for the next few months)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Words: 4.0K

TW: Light swearing, alcohol, Azzi's ACL injury

A/N: Hello my lovelies! So I know you're all waiting for something else and I promise I am working on it too! But I had a couple of requests I wanted to get through first and the easiest thing as always, was to combine some of them into one fic. So for anons who wanted the plane convo, injury-related comfort and more Miles and Sienna content, this is for you! This is set in Eternity-verse but you obviously don't have to read either of those to understand this. The editing in this might actually be non-existent but I hope y'all forgive me anyways. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see in the future. Enjoy the fluff lovelies, we're in for a bumpy ride next time <3

the playful conversation starts, counter all your quick remarks

Paige’s mouth is running dry. She’s been babbling on and on for almost two hours and the girl next to her has barely spoken two sentences. In Paige’s defense, she’s not really fully in control of her word vomit right now. Her brain is currently in the grasp of her nervous anxiety and the fear that if she lets silence linger between them, the brunette next to her would realize too quickly that maybe Paige’s brilliant idea to switch their seats so they could be next to each other, wasn’t such a brilliant idea after all. 

This feeling is foreign to Paige. She’s always been the epitome of confidence, always so sure of herself, always convinced that the person in front of her must want to be her friend. But something about Azzi Fudd is different. It’s not like Azzi’s been cold or anything, but she seems immune to Paige’s charm, eyes always a little weary of what ridiculousness Paige is going to get herself into next. But really, Paige thinks, it’s Azzi’s fault that the blonde had been up to one too many shenanigans during USA Basketball. Because if every time Paige pulls off a trick, Azzi’s going to smile like that, like Paige is the funniest human being in the world, then she’s going to do it over and over again. 

“You um-,” Paige looks down, fiddling with her thumbs, “you can tell me to shut up you know. I get a little too excited about basketball sometimes.”

“I think you get a little too excited about most things,” Azzi says and when Paige looks up at her, there’s a teasing grin playing on the younger girl's lips. 

“Life’s too short to not be excited about things,” Paige says solemnly. 

Azzi raises an eyebrow, “what book did you steal that from- actually never mind, I doubt you read.”

“Hey, I do read!” Paige shrieks in mock offence and Azzi bursts out laughing. And Paige barely knows this girl, doesn’t even know her middle name yet, but she thinks that Azzi’s laughter, like wind chimes ringing through the mountains, might be her favourite sound in the whole wide world. 

It takes Azzi a second to compose herself, before she looks at Paige with earnest eyes, “I like listening to you talk.”

“Be careful Fudd. I might never shut up,” Paige smirks cockily but inside, her chest feels a like it’s bursting at the compliment. Five simple words and it feels a little bit like all of Paige’s insecurities are being soothed over, a sense of calm washing all over her. She doesn’t understand the butterflies in her stomach and she definitely doesn’t understand the fluttering in her chest but she knows that she likes this feeling, knows that she likes Azzi. 

“You say that but you’ve already gone quiet on me Bueckers,” Azzi cocks her head, “whatcha thinking?”

“I’m thinking we’re gonna be great friends.”

“You think so? I'm a little picky about my friendships.”

“I know so. I'm gonna be the best friend you've ever had," Paige vows.

And when Azzi smiles, it’s not a smile that Paige has seen in the last week. It’s one that’s entirely different, one filled with something both of them are too young to understand and it’ll take years before either of them realize that it’s Azzi’s Paige smile. It'll take years before they realize Paige has her own matching Azzi smile.

This time as Paige starts up a conversation again, Azzi has more input. Time seems to stop and speed up all at the same time as the two girls cover every topic imaginable, occasionally getting annoyed shushing looks from other passengers when they giggle a little too loudly. All that does is make them share conspiratorial smiles and laugh just a little bit harder. It’s almost three-quarters of the way into the flight when their voices start getting scratchy, sleep inching its way onto their features as they slowly fall into silence. 

Paige will never admit this but she’s a little scared of the quiet. Well, actually, she’s scared of being alone, and the quiet feels a lot like solitude. Her whole life she’s tried her best to keep herself surrounded by chaos, by noise, filling up the space with her own voice if nobody else wanted to talk. And if there was nothing, at least there was the sound of a basketball being dribbled on the hardwood floor. The whole plane is asleep and all she can focus on is Azzi’s soft breathing next to her as the brunette falls deeper and deeper into her dreams. And for the first time in her life, Paige doesn’t mind the quiet. 

***

Azzi stirs awake to the cabin crew announcing they’re only a couple of minutes away from landing. She cricks her neck, feeling a heaviness on her right and when she turns to look, there’s Paige Bueckers. Blonde hair sprawled all over Azzi's arm as the point guard uses Azzi’s shoulder as her own personal pillow. Her eyes are shut tight, mouth a little ajar with drool pooling at the corner of her lips. Azzi blinks down at her, unsure why her heartbeat is erratic, unsure why she thinks Paige might be the most beautiful creature she’s ever seen. 

Azzi wills herself to stay deathly still, convincing herself that it’s because she doesn’t want to wake Paige up. After all, they’d had a long week and the point guard deserved a break after having done everything in her power to make sure the team won gold. But really, the truth is Azzi doesn’t want Paige to wake up because then Paige will move away and Azzi’s beginning to realize she quite likes having Paige asleep on her, she's beginning to realize, that maybe she just likes having Paige with her.

2. the lingering question kept me up, 2 am who do you love 

“And then Coach made me run laps for an hour. AN HOUR,” Paige says animatedly, placing her phone on her pillow, as she flips herself to lie on her stomach, “and now I’m sore everywhere.”

“Aww you poor baby,” her best friend’s voice mocks through the facetime call that’s been running since midnight, “maybe next time you should just try and practice well.”

“Who’s side are you even on?” Paige guffaws. 

Azzi laughs, her head leaning back against the headboard as she gets comfortable, “his duh. After all, he could be my future coach. Gotta stay on his good side.”

“What do you mean could?” Paige narrows her eyes, “he will be your coach.”

“I dunno dude. The way you’ve been complaining about practice since you got there, I don’t know if I wanna be a part of that.”

“Don’t think you can handle it?” Paige smirks, knowing exactly what buttons to push as she watches Azzi’s calm expression turn to one of fierce competition. 

“I would kick your butt at practice,” Azzi says determinedly and Paige’s smirk widens. 

“Well you should commit to UConn and find out.”

“May I w-” Azzi stops, groaning as she realises what Paige is doing. 

“Go ahead and finish that sentence for me.”

“Fuck off,” Azzi whines, grabbing a pillow to bury her head into and it’s ridiculous the way Paige is so endeared by it. But then again, she’s endeared by most things Azzi. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Paige sing-songs, “that was all you bro.”

“You tricked me.”

“I did no such thing. I am a woman of God. I would never.”

“Don’t bring God into your deception Paige,” Azzi chastises as they both delve into laughter. That’s their friendship in a nutshell. Conversations well past midnight, filled with bickering and giggling. And the truth is, that all throughout the day, as she goes through the motions of UConn life, this is what Paige looks forward to. Coming back to her dorm, falling into bed, picking up the phone and finding Azzi on the other side. And even if doesn’t do nearly enough to soothe the ache of how much she craves Azzi’s physical presence, at least for a while she can close her eyes and pretend, just by the sound of her best friend’s voice, that she’s here with her. 

“You’d fit in really well Az,” Paige says after a moment, chewing at her lip, “I know your game better than anyone and I know you’d thrive here.”

Azzi sighs, “I don’t feel like doing this tonight Paige.”

They’re balancing on a thin rope when it comes to Azzi’s commitment. As the deadline approaches, the younger girl, also known as the most indecisive person Paige knows, has gotten more and more tense with every day. What had started as Azzi rolling her eyes whenever Paige pushed a little too hard, had begun to delve into Azzi shutting down the moment Paige brought the topic up. 

“I just think-”

“Stop thinking,” Azzi bites out harshly before she lets out a deep breath, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that I just- I need everyone to stop talking to me about it.”

“We’re just tryna help,” Paige says slowly, lying on her elbows as she props her phone up against her side table. 

“I know. I know. But I just need y’all to trust that I know what’s best for me.”

I’m what’s best for you, Paige thinks but she can’t say that out loud, not when it’s veering just a little too close to the biggest reason why Paige wants Azzi at UConn, one that has absolutely nothing to do with basketball, one that has everything do with that scary fucking l-word Paige isn’t sure she’ll ever be ready to confront. 

Instead she gives her best friend a soothing nod, “you know I trust your judgement.”

“You should,” Azzi smiles and Paige feels warm all over, “it’s definitely better than yours.”

Paige rolls her eyes, “you say the sweetest things to me Azzi Fudd.”

“I try,” Azzi whispers before a loud yawn escapes her, as she rolls over to lie on her side.

“You abouta fall asleep on me bro?” Paige raises an eyebrow. 

“Of,” another yawn, “course not.”

Paige shakes her head, mentally counting down in her head as she watches Azzi’s eyes start to blink. For her part, the younger girl tries to keep talking, mumbling something about some tv show she’d watched that day. Paige barely registers any of it, too busy admiring how pretty Azzi looks in the dim glow of her night light. She can feel her own body starting to drift away as well, giving into what’s basically become routine. And maybe their phones only have enough charge for them to get a small glimpse of each other stirring awake before the call unceremoniously. But it’s enough. For now, even if it’s just through a screen, falling asleep to the sound of each other breathing, and waking up to those precious few seconds of each other being the first thing they see in the morning, is enough. 

3. now i’m pacing back and forth, wishing you were at my door

The music roars around her as Paige lets herself be immersed by the dancing crowd. It’s a Thursday night, but after a decisive win over Maryland by the women’s team, all of Storrs is partying like it’s already the weekend. While the bar was always an option, the team had decided to throw an impromptu party in one of the apartments instead and word seemed to have spread a little too quickly throughout campus. 

Paige is distracted as she dances with KK and Aubrey, eyes constantly drifting to the door in anticipation of her girlfriend. Azzi had reassured she’d show up after the Fudds, who were helping Azzi decorate for Christmas, left but the clock is ticking closer and closer to midnight and there’s still no sign of the brunette anywhere. 

“Has Azzi texted any of y’all?’ Paige tries to yell over the music, after checking her own phone and finding nothing. Both KK and Aubrey shake their heads and Paige sighs, concern flooding into her brain. Out of the corner of her eye she notices Caroline beelining for the door and call it instinct, but Paige immediately knows it has something to do with Azzi. 

“I’ll be right back okay,” she says to her other teammates, before following the Massachusetts native.

She’s not sure how Caroline did it so easily, but it takes Paige far longer than it should to get through the crowd and out the door.Azzi’s apartment is eerily quiet by the time Paige reaches it. The newly setup Christmas lights around the living room have been turned off and even the fairy lights on the Christmas tree are set to a dim setting. For a second, Paige wonders if maybe Azzi isn’t even in here and then she hears it, a heartbreakingly familiar sob. As she walks towards Azzi’s door, Paige feels her own heart start to crack. 

When the injury had happened in practice, there were two people who had immediately known what it was. The person it happened to and her person who’d just been through it. Azzi had taken it shockingly well from the moment it happened til the doctor had confirmed what they’d all known, but still hoped to be wrong about. A steely determined look had covered her face, as instead of mourning another setback, she’d thrown herself into planning out her recovery. But Paige had always been able to see through Azzi’s façade and she’d known it was only a matter of time before the inevitable crash. 

Paige stops outside the door, unsure if she should go in as she listens to the sound of Azzi’s tears and Caroline’s soothing “it’s gonna be okay.”

“It’s not,” Azzi breathes out between sobs and it feels like a shard of glass is being used to puncture Paige's soul, “I can’t do this again Carol. It’s too much. I can’t keep doing this again and again. Why does this keep happening to me?”

“I know,” Caroline whispers, sounding as helplessly defeated as Paige feels, “I’m so sorry Azzi.”

“No, I'm sorry. Fuck Carol, you should be down at the party-”

“I should be here with you because you need me,” Caroline hesitates, “but I also don’t think it’s me you need.”

“Don’t,” Azzi’s voice is firmer now and Paige can picture her wiping her tears as she gives Caroline that patented don’t push me look. 

“Azzi-”

“Did you see how happy she looked after the game? I can’t ruin that for her. She was so good tonight and I’m so proud of her and I can’t- I won’t ruin that for her. She’s been through so much this year and she deserves to celebrate without- without me there ruining her moment.”

You stupid silly girl with your heart of gold, Paige thinks, shaking her head as she throws the door open. 

“Oh thank god,” Caroline mutters under her breath, moving a little so that Paige can see all of Azzi’s, sitting rigidly on her bed with her legs hanging off one side. Tear tracks stream down the younger girl’s face, her hands fisted in her laps as she stares at Paige with watery eyes. She’s still dressed in her tracksuit from the game, the sticker Paige had placed over her heart, still exactly where she’d put it. An air of fragility clings to Azzi’s frame and Paige wants to bubble wrap her girlfriend and hide her away from this cruel world that seems to test their strength at every step of the way. 

“For someone so smart Azzi Fudd, you say the dumbest shit sometimes,” Paige whispers, crouching down in front of the brunette, and uncurling her fists so she can hold her hands, “you think I can celebrate without you?”

“I didn’t wanna be a buzzkill,” Azzi mumbles, eyes looking anywhere but at Paige, “I don’t wanna be a burden.”

“Baby,” Paige breathes out, bringing Azzi’s knuckles to her lips, “was I a burden to you last year?”

That gets Azzi to look at her, as a fierceful protectiveness clouds the other girl’s eyes, “of course not P. You could never be a burden.”

“Then how the fuck, did you ever think Azzi, that you could be a burden to me?”

Azzi’s bottom lip trembles, a fresh set of tears threatening to fall from her eyes. And then she’s falling off the bed, straight into Paige’s arms, hands tightening around the older girl’s neck as she buries her face in her chest. 

“I’ve got you baby,” Paige whispers into her hair, her own eyes stinging as she runs her hands up and down the shaking brunette’s back, “I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”

She doesn’t know how long she sits on the floor, tank top a little soaked from all of Azzi’s tears but she doesn’t move until Azzi stills herself in her arms, having basically cried herself to sleep. Paige gets up slowly, trying her best not to wake up the girl in her arms, as she somehow manages to manoeuvre both of them onto the bed. Azzi lets out a quiet whimper, snuggling further into Paige’s side. 

Staring down at the vulnerable girl in front of her, Paige finally lets her own tears fall, biting her lip and almost drawing blood, to keep herself from making a sound. A lot of things had gone wrong in the last year but it was all supposed to have been worth it this year when they’d finally get to live out the dream they’d been dreaming since they’d first met, the dream to play together. And now that's gone, for now at least. But as Azzi subconsciously runs a hand down Paige’s arm, her sixth sense alerts even in sleep that her girlfriend needs comfort, Paige thinks, at least they have each other. Because as she lies down next to Azzi, pulling her girlfriend closer to her chest, she knows she’s never letting go. 

4. this was the very first page, not where the storyline ends

Paige swears she’s only closed her eyes for 10 seconds when the baby monitor goes off again. Loud screaming fills the entirety of the master bedroom, as she groans into her pillow. For the most part, her twins are angels on earth. Except when the clock passes 3 a.m and they seem to get possessed by demons that make them scream bloody murder until one of their moms picks them up. 

“Azzi,” she whines into her pillow, reaching over to lightly smack her wife’s arm, “your children are awake.”

She doesn’t need to see the younger woman’s face to know that even with sleep in every corner of her eye, Azzi is currently shooting Paige the most exasperated glare possible. 

“Suddenly they’re my kids? Gosh Paige I wish you’d told me that before I put your name on the fucking birth certificate,” Azzi quips as she rolls out of bed and Paige immediately missed the warmth next to her, “if you’re not up in five minutes to help me with this, I swear to god I will divorce your ass.”

“How are you awake enough to threaten me like that right now?” Paige mumbles, sighing to herself as she separates from her beloved bed. The tiredness hits her the moment she stands up and she almost keels over, until a strong arm wraps around her waist. And despite the ridiculous time, despite the noise that is still echoing throughout their room, despite the fact that she can barely see her in this darkness, as soon as Paige can feel Azzi’s skin underneath her fingertip, she can’t help but press her lips against her wife’s. Paige almost, almost loses herself in the kiss until there's a shriek, too loud to ignore. 

“What if we didn’t put a baby monitor in their room anymore,” she mutters against Azzi’s lips, eliciting a small laugh from her wife as she entwines their hands together, practically dragging Paige from the master bedroom into the twin’s shared nursery.

Miles and Sienna are both standing in their cots, facing each other and screaming their heads off as if they’re in some sort of who can ruin our moms night better competition and if Paige wasn’t one of the moms in question, she’d probably find the scenario a tad bit more amusing. Shaking her head, she walks towards Miles as Azzi goes towards Sienna and it’s a little bit ridiculous how quickly the cries begin to subside. She’d never admit it but secretly Paige loves how quickly the twins calm down as soon as they see their mothers, even if it is after yelling at an ungodly hour in the morning. They’re too young to be able to say the words, and so Paige is pretty sure this is their way of making sure Mommy and Mama know how much Miles and Sienna love them. 

“Hey buddy,” Paige coos as she picks Miles up, his tearful face breaking out into a magnificent grin, “didn’t feel like letting us sleep again huh kid?”

Miles doesn’t say anything, just smiles as he makes grabby hands for Paige’s face. She’s learned it’s one of his favourite things to do with her or Azzi, reach for them and use his tiny fingers to caress their faces. It’s like he’s memorising how they feel and Paige can’t help but lean into his touch. Behind her she can hear Sienna giggling and when she turns around, she’s not surprised to find Azzi pressing kisses all over their daughter’s face. And she doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of seeing this vision, the love of her life interacting with their kids. 

“Muh,” Miles manages to spit out the minute he spots Azzi, jostling in Paige’s arms, clearly eager to get to his other mother. The sound gets Sienna’s attention and her face widens as she spots Paige. Laughing, Paige and Azzi share a secret smile as they swap children. Miles immediately buries his face into his favourite spot in the crease between Azzi’s neck and shoulder and Sienna’s immediately enamoured with Paige’s blond hair, chubby finger combing through it as she looks at her mother in awe. 

“You’re wide awake aren’t you Si-Si,” Paige whispers, laughing when Sienna nods. She walks them over to the couch, Azzi and Miles following behind. As soon as both Paige and Azzi are seated, Miles and Sienna are reaching for each other, babbling silly nonsense and giggling. Paige doesn’t know a lot about babies but she’s pretty certain her twins have their own secret language they speak to each other in. 

Their family of four settles into the couch, that’s bound to be dented soon by the constant weight of all four of them on it every night. It’s unlikely any of them will return to their own beds, unlikely Paige and Azzi will even get any more sleep tonight. Over the top of the twins' head, Paige eyes meet Azzi’s. They’re droopy with sleep, but crinkled from the way she’s smiling and Paige is still as much in love with them now, as she was an eternity ago. 

“I love you,” she whispers, just because she can. 

Azzi’s smile widens, one hand navigating through their children between them to hold Paige’s, “I love you more.”

“I love you the most,” Paige counters and Azzi shakes her head as she squeezes Paige’s hand. 

It’s a silly little thing but they wouldn’t be Paige and Azzi if they didn’t bicker over it just a little bit. Because at the end of the day they both know, there's no one they’d rather fall asleep with, no one they'd rather stay awake with, no one they’d rather be on this journey of life with, other than each other. 

[pedge-page]

Hellooo - please tell me you have plans for late-stage pregnant!reader and himbo!joel, and breastfeeding himbo!joel once the baby arrives 🥺🥺❤️

Mine is Mine

Himbo!Sub!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Notes: I went somewhere with this and then made a 180 at the end--hope you like!

Warnings: himbo! Joel, sub!Joel, pregnant reader, breastfeeding, lactation kink, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dry footjob, Mommy kink, brief puppy talk, crying during sex, cowgirl/riding, Joel pulls a uno reverse on you and gets a bit aggressive at the end which may be triggering for some, sign of obsession turning toxic and negligent behavior

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel gets so visibly excited watching your belly grow day by day.

Sometimes, however, when his little brain can’t communicate well, it gets the best of him.

You’re atop him, riding his cock casually. You lean back, the ache in your lower back a little more tolerable in this position, with your arms straight and hands gripping his bent knees. the bed creaks with each roll of your hips. Joel has the glorious sight of your rounded tummy on display, moving up and down with you. He touches it, palm splayed out, amazed at how big you’ve grown. 

But this position—he hates it. You don’t notice the whimpers in his throat until you’re catching a glean of a tear in his eye.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” You ask, concerned laced in your motherly voice. You sit up but can’t get much closer to hold his face with your baby in the way.

He shakes his head. 

“Why are you crying?”

He grumbles, biting his lips. Your movement stilled, clenching around his cock expectedly as he stumbles over his words.

“I—I can’t kiss you like this. I hate it.”

He usually takes you in missionary, mostly so you can pet his hair and he can hump you pathetically, but with the bump now growing by the day, it's not as comfortable for him to lie on top of you. There came a point where there was no longer a position the two of you could be in to be able to hold each other close. It was how Joel always liked it, pressed tight against you, feeling each other’s breath and tongues and lips. Close, almost inseparable. This might be the one thing he regrets about getting you knocked up.

You can’t help but feel sorry. “I know. I know. It’s soooo hard for you, isn’t it?” You say, rolling your hips up and the sinking back down on him slowly. 

He hisses. There’s probably some bell in his brain that detects the double entente, but he doesn’t show it.

You sit up a bit more on your knees, and make him take both hands in yours. “Like this, okay? That way you can hold me.” With your hands locked, you started rocking against him again. Smooth, gentle movements that has him twitching underneath you.

His eyes don’t know whether to lock on to yours, your tummy pressing against his, or the space below that he can feel your wetness coating his member. All he knows is clenching hard with his fingers laced into yours, and your beautiful encouraging smile as you ride him eases the desire  inside him.

“Better?”

“Better, Mommy…” he moans, a little more breathless. There’s a twinge of a smile at the end, gasping as he feels pleasure bloom in his tummy once again.

He’s a passionate lover, for sure.

But as the months get closer to due date, no matter how shitty of a day you’re having, or clearly short tempered with him and your hormones, or snapping at him for being too clingy when you’re sweating your ass off, he’s never not happy. It’s like trying to train a puppy when he’s doing something wrong, but doesn’t recognize the change in tone quite yet.

So finally one day while you’re struggling to cook your famous roast and everything in the kitchen is going wrong, having Joel up your heel trying to touch your 8 month heavy belly sets you off.

“Joel I swear get the FUCK off!” You snap. 

He backs away solemnly, a mixture of shock and pain shatters his entire demeanor.

You don’t notice, don’t care, trying to fan your shirt from the sweat dripping down your shirt. You can finally breathe without his big hand being a furnace on your belly button and caging all the heat along your back.

You throw the entire dish away after burning it and decide to order Pizza. The two of you sit in silence, and it takes you a moment to realize why it feels off with him.

You had never yelled at him like that. You were kind mommy, nurturing mommy, loving mommy.

When did you become such a bitch to your pup?

“Joel. Come here.”

He quietly gets off his seat and kneels beside you, between your open legs. His face casts downward, apologetic.

You cup his cheeks and bring him to rest against your belly. He sighs, pressing in closer, his cock stirring at the feel of you on him again, so warm and gentle, nurturing.

Nurturing him, nurturing the baby he put in your belly right now.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you, baby.”

“S’okay.”

“You like being around Mommy a lot huh?”

He nods, his scruff rubbing against your shirt.

“It’s okay. You should be allowed around your Momma and baby whenever you want.”

He perks up. “Really?”

“Yes. You did such a great job. Look at what you did to me,” you hum, holding his hands and bringing them over your tummy and breasts. “I’m all swollen ready to have a baby for you.”

You can feel the way he’s vibrating a bit, so overly joyed but unable to contain himself. His hands roughly grasp your tits, now twice the size they were when you two started your breeding sessions, and his soft lips ghost over the rounded protrusion in your middle, planting soft kisses as he rides your shirt up over your head.

You want to laugh at him when he starts rocking his hard-on against your leg.

“Are you excited for something?” You ask curiously.

He nods. “I want to drink your milk.”

“It’s not ready yet.” 

He casts down again sadly. 

“But you can practice,” you tease, lifting him up so that his jaw is level with your ribcage.

He doesn’t hesitate, wrapping his sinful tongue around your nipple and swirling it over to harden in his mouth. “Gentle. Nice, that’s it, puppy. Doing so good. Gonna drink up all my milk when it’s ready, right?”

He groans fervishly. His thighs parting wider of their own accord, to rock into the air as he focuses on the feel of your heavy breast, trying widen his jaw and take in as much fat as possible. You grant him mercy and start rubbing his clothed bulge with your bare foot.

A rumbling whimper purrs in his chest, panting hard. Only a few minutes have passed and he’s already cumming in his pants, staining the denim and getting your foot all sticky with his mess as he swallows around your boob, desperate for the day he’s going to taste heaven.

A few months later and your sweet baby girl is born safe and healthy.

He watches with fascination in the hospital as you try skin to skin with your baby. The poor thing is fussy, unwilling to latch on your breast. You can see Joel’s agitation, and despite the intense labor you went through, you want to ease his mind.

“It’s okay Joel, she’ll feed soon. She’s got a lot of new things to get used to. We’ll get there.”

“That’s not why I’m … figitin’…” 

He’s really bad with words.

You look down at your uncovered chest, a droplet of milk pebbled at your nip while your baby falls asleep without taking the bait.

Oh.

So when you finally go home, get the baby settled, unpack, shower, and are looking forward to lying in bed while your entire fucking uterus and above and below heals, Joel’s “helping” to take the long awaited ache in your chest comes at a benefit to you.

He curls up next to you, careful not to put any weight on your body as you prop yourself up with a few pillows. He’s quiet, yet his eyes scream a primal need. He haphazardly tosses your shirt away and gawks at your massive breasts. They were ripe, full and needing drained and since your baby wasn’t in the mood to try it tonight…

You rub over the darkened part, perking up your nipples until they were longer and hardened. A single pearl of white beaded along the tip.

You feel a drip of drool pool onto your belly as he stares open mouthed and wide eyed at the sight. Just like a dog, you muse in your mind.

He doesn’t wait for your permission before swallowing as much of your breast whole. A harsh breath escapes his nose when that first trickle of your milk lands on his tongue. He hollows his cheeks and begins sucking, a little too hard, greedily nurturing your sweetness.

His back is shaking from the pent up wait. You coo over his shoulders, “shhhhh, it’s okay. Mommy’s here,” stroking him until his nerves calm. He patters little painful breaths, like he’s trying to force himself to remember to breathe between gulps. His lashes tickle along your chest.

“You’re doing so good, honey. It’s all yours. Take your time. All your reward for breeding me so good, giving me such a beautiful baby.”

His eyes are fixed ahead into your skin. There’s no thoughts behind them, his instinct completely making his brain go lax now that he feeding properly, slipping into a hypnotized, relaxed state of comfort he hasn’t been in since…literally since he was a baby himself.

You almost start to fall asleep were it not for the sudden pitchy scream of your newborn.

Joel holds you still, almost painfully, refusing to let you go anywhere. You had nearly forgotten even in his docile mindset he's still so much stronger than you, especially when he's getting what he wants.

“Joel—that’s enough. The baby—“

You almost screech when his teeth sink into your flesh before pulling off and leaving a crescent mark.

“You said it was mine—so it can fucking wait for me to finish,” he  growls angrily, eyes ablaze in fury that you would make him detach from your tit to have to answer you.

You shiver, eyes wide at the sight of a very unfamiliar Joel, who tightens his jaw and sets his mouth back on your breast again in a clear end of your conversation.

- - - -

more Sub!Himbo!Joel fics:

Safe and Closer

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[ellecdc]

Come Back, Be Here (part 5)

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 3.5k p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

⚠️CW: graphic descriptions of injury, blood & gore, combat (people die), painful goodbyes, swearing (I wrote it so there's swearing, but I think you all know that by now)

Synopsis: The story of how you sacrificed yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before. And what the fuck is Kreacher up to?

👋AN: I have never written (well anything TBF) combat/action before and I was very uncomfortable the entire time so I'm 1) glad it's over (for now) and 2) very sorry if it's awkward or painful to read. I'd love feedback or suggestions as I believe this story may involve more. xx

The spring-time sun meant you had an easier time staying comfortable during the day, but as the sun dipped below the top of the building across from you, it was becoming increasingly harder to stay warm. You sat on an overturned crate in an abandoned building watching the alleyway below you as you nibbled on a granola bar. It tasted like ash.

“Should we check in again?” James asked, leaning in front of you to peek out the partially broken window.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “We checked in only minutes ago, Prongs.”

He hummed in disgruntled acknowledgment. 

“Do you ever think about just like jumping when you look out a window?” James asked as he leaned a little too close to the jagged edge of the window for your liking.

“Pardon me?”

“You know, like when you’re on a bridge and you think ‘I could totally just launch myself off of this right now’, or when you’re holding something really expensive or delicate and you just want to throw it at a wall.”

You stared at your friend for a moment.

“Those are called intrusive thoughts, Jamie.”

“Are they bad?”

“Only when they stop being thoughts and turn into actions.”

“Got it.” He said with a nod.

“Hey, James?”

“Yeah.”

“Step away from the window please.”

He sighed and plopped down unceremoniously beside you. You offered him the rest of your granola bar which he only accepted once you assured him you were finished. 

You moved to sit on the floor so the two of you could play tic-tac-toe in the dust. James complained about breaking a nail and you agreed to check in with Emmeline and Benjy twice more over the following few hours.

“Okay; fuck, marry, avada: Helga Hufflepuff, the Minister of Magic, Merlin.” James asked.

You blew out a breath and leaned back onto your hands. “Hmmmm, how many times do I have to fuck them?”

“Just once.”

“Okay, and do I have to stay married forever and ever?”

“Uh, duh. Till death do you part.” He answered incredulously. 

“Will I die soon?”

James gave you an unimpressed look.

“Okay, uhm, ugh, I hate politicians, James.”

“I don’t want your life story, just answer the question.” 

“Fine. Fuck Merlin, marry Helga, avada the Minister.” You said, though you couldn’t help but cautiously look over your shoulder lest the Minister himself hear your treasonous answer. 

“Explain.”

“I just think Helga would treat me right.”

James nodded solemnly. “And the others?”

“You just said you didn’t want my life story.” 

“You’re right. Do me next.”

“In your dreams, Potter.”

James rolled his eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” 

You chuckled and looked down at the street again.

“I don’t know James; it’s been pretty quiet. How long have we been here?” 

James shifted his weight to one hand in order to check his watch. “Well, we got here at, what, eight this morning? It’s been about twelve hours of nothing.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “What do you think? Do you want to get home to Lily and Haz, or keep watch?” 

James groaned. “I always want to go home to Lily and Haz, but Benjy and Em were on this stake out yesterday too.”

You nodded and stood. You conjured your patronus and told Benjy and Emmeline that it was quiet enough for them to leave, and that James and you would stay for a little bit longer just in case. The silvery fox jumped once before it disappeared through the walls of the building, sending your message to the other team.

James chuckled. “Do you remember how pissed off Sirius was when he found out you had become an animagus?”

You smirked at the memory. “That was back when he hated me.”

James guffawed. “He never hated you.”

“Yes, he did!”

“Nuh uh, he thought he was playing it cool, but he fell just as hard for you as I did with my Lily flower.”

You shook your head. “No one fell as hard as you did, Jamie.”

“Too true.” He agreed. “I’m the best at everything I do.”

“I think he was mostly mad that I’d managed to do it by myself, whilst the three of you bumbled your way through it together.”

“Yeah. You started after us and managed to finish before Pete did.”

You chuckled at the memory.

(Hogwarts boat-house, 4th year)

“I don’t understand why you’re getting so worked up about this.”

Sirius looked at you incredulously. “Uhm, how about because it’s dangerous? What even compelled you to do something like this?”

“Uhm, you guys were doing it?”

“So?”

“So? If you can do it, why can’t I?” 

“Do you know how much trouble you could get into for this?” He asked while pinching the space between his brows.

“Why? Are you going to rat me out?”

Sirius guffawed. “I’m not a snitch, Dollface.”

You smiled wickedly at him. “Good, then shut up about it.”

You stood and stretched your limbs, stiff from the day of waiting for nothing to happen.

“I’m confused, James.” You said, poking your head into the window again. “Didn’t the tip suggest that this was a major meeting spot for Death Eaters and allies?”

James hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Then why haven’t we seen anything all day?”

He looked at you curiously. “I don’t know...isn’t no news good news?”

You groaned. “I don’t know. Not if we’re to believe the tip.”

“You think it was false?” 

You made a non-committal sound as you started to pace the room. 

“I mean, I guess it is weird for nothing to happen two days in a row.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. “Two days?”

James nodded at you. “Yeah, Emmeline and Benjy were here yesterday.”

“They were here yesterday?”

“Are you feeling okay? I literally just said that.” 

“Fuck, James, where did this tip come from?”

James scrunched his eyebrows. “I don’t know, Vix.”

You both stared at each other for a few moments. “I think we should leave.” You said.

“Apparate to location seven?” James asked as you helped him stand.

“Yep.”

You both pulled your wands and spun to apparate.

You looked at each other in confusion. 

After a quick nod, you both spun again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You muttered before moving back to the window; neither teams had any problems apparating in or out earlier today.

“Vix, this isn’t good.” 

“Alright,” you breathed out, squaring your shoulders, “alright. Let’s scout the area. We’ll find out where this anti-apparition ward ends and get the hell out of here.”

James, looking far paler than he had moments ago, offered you one nod before getting into stance and following you to the door. 

You grabbed the handle and heard an awful searing sound before you realized it was the sound of your hand against the metal doorknob. 

“FUCK!” You shouted as you pulled your hand away, blisters already littering the palm of your hand. James quickly cast an auguamenti over your hand followed by a glacius. The stinging slowly subsided but you could still feel your heartbeat in your palm, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. 

James leaned his ear closer to the door. “I...I feel like I hear a dragon?”

You paled. 

“Fiendfyre.”

You moved over to the window and cast a despulso, shattering the remaining glass and leaning out of it. 

“This way.” You said to James over your shoulder before changing into Vixen and jumping down two storeys. Your paws stumbled beneath you as you landed awkwardly, but you fared better than you would have in your human form.

James looked down at you from the window as you changed back to your human form before giving him a quick nod. He jumped and you cast an arresto momentum, slowly lowering him to the ground. 

You both tried to apparate again to no prevail. James cast a revelio which illuminated the shimmery grid lock of the ward around you. 

“It doesn’t look like it goes far. We just need to make it to the street.” James said as he nodded his head down the alleyway. 

You began in that direction when two shadowy, masked figures stepped into the alley from the street. You huffed and figured you’d fare better on the other end, save having to climb over the barbed wire. When you turned again to run, another set of masked figures stepped out on that end too.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” One of them sing-songed. 

“Through the building.” James commanded and the two of you moved to the door of the building across the alleyway.

James cast a despulso to open the door as you threw a bombarda at the second set of Death Eaters. You narrowly dodged a confringo as more bolts of light shot your way.

You ran down the hall, looking around corners for signs of an exit. You passed a hallway and felt a hand grab your arm before you were slammed into the wall.

A wand was pressed to your throat when you heard James cast a flipendo. The wizard pinning you was sent flying, so you righted yourself and grabbed James’s hand before sprinting down the hallway again. 

You shot a hex at a fire extinguisher as you passed it which fogged up the hallway behind you. 

“Confringo!” A voice suddenly shouted from ahead. A ball of fire hit James’s square in the chest as he moved to block you from it. He fell to the ground with a thud as you cast a protego around the two of you. 

Three more casts bounced off of your shield before you shot an incendio at them, watching the robes and masks melt away before the wizards turned to ash. 

“You idiot!” You gritted through your teeth as you cast healing charms over James’ burn. 

“Wake up James, get your arse up.” You insisted, gripping his chin and shaking his head back and forth. 

You looked up at the sound of running and shot another bombarda behind you. The sickening sound of a body hitting a wall and sliding to the ground let you know you hit your mark as you continued to rouse James.

“You need to get up James. Come on, let’s go.” You said as you hauled him into a sitting position. You mentally cursed him and his dedication to the gym as you tried to manhandle his 183cm (six-foot) pure muscle figure. The movement caused him to groan.

“Yes, come on Prongs, get up, we need to go.” You insisted, giving him another shake. The burning in your hand was starting to return and you felt the beginnings of a wicked headache coming on. You could hear shouting from the floor above you – you had company. 

The wall behind you exploded suddenly and threw you both across the hall. Your head made a sickening crack as it met the brick wall and James was covered with rubble.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You moaned as you felt heat spread down your neck. You ripped a large piece of glass from your right thigh as you stood, which began to bleed far too quickly for your liking. Wobbly as all hell, you moved over to James and pulled the cinderblocks from his body.

“Come on Potter,” you muttered. “You’ve got a wife and kid at home.”

He groaned in agony as you pulled him into a crouch.

“And you’ve got a Sirius.” He slurred.

“Exactly,” you grunted as you used your wand to throw a piece of wall at some assailants to your left. “And if I go home to my boyfriend without his boyfriend, he will have my head.”

Both of you hissed in pain as you stood, but you trudged through the rubble and moved to the end of the hall. You pushed through a door which brought you out into an alleyway parallel to the one you guys had just been in. You cast a revelioand saw that the anti-apparition ward ended at the sidewalk about ten yards away. 

The sound of an explosion followed by screaming made you turn. The building you and James had been in for your stake out had been completely consumed by the fiendfyre and was spreading to the building you just exited. 

“The fiendfyre caused friendly fire.” James muttered. 

You pushed at his shoulder and directed him toward the street. “James, this way, we’re almost-” 

“BOMBARDA.”

“No!”

The wind was knocked clean out of you and your senses vanished. You saw bright white and couldn’t hear anything past the ringing in your ears. You tried to stay calm as you willed your lungs to take in more air. 

You were aware of someone standing above you, or in front of you, but you couldn’t see or hear them. There were hands, warm hands, you were being shaken. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” 

Choking.

You could hear choking.

You could hear!

You hear yourself choking. 

You sucked in a deep breath that caused an unbelievable amount of pain in your stomach; the breath shuddered as it left your body. 

“No, no, no. Vix please.”

You opened your eyes. Though your eyesight was still white around the edges you could see James’ face in front of yours.

“Y/N, we’re almost there.” James whimpered, tilting his head toward the sidewalk where the ward line ended. You lifted your hand to your head even though it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and when you pulled your hand back it was red. 

“James.” You choked out. “Go, I’ll find you.”

“Y/N.”

You attempted to sit up straighter, but it elicited a strangled sob from you. You felt a strange pressure in the left of your stomach, and when you looked down you could see why.

Your head, also feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, lolled as you lifted your shirt to expose a metal rod that had impaled you from behind. Your view of the injury quickly became obscured as blood flowed from the wound. Between the wound to your thigh, and now your stomach, the gravel below you was quickly becoming drenched in your blood. You knew then. This injury was well beyond either of your wheelhouse.

“Jamie.”

“No.”

“James.” You whined quietly, lolling your head back against the fence behind you. “You have to go.” 

“Y/N, I won’t. I cannot leave without you.” 

“You have to.” 

“No.” He cried miserably. 

You took a few breaths, heart hurting both from blood loss and for your partner.

“What about Sirius? Hm?” He shot at you.

You smiled at the thought of your sweet boy. You felt like you could smell him now; worn leather, caramel, and his cigarettes. You knew he tried to spell the smell away, but it never really worked; you’d learned to associate the scent with him though, so you mostly didn’t mind. 

“You’ll take care of him for me, won���t you?” You asked your friend, offering him a tired smile. Tears fell from his eyes; he was too pretty to cry, you thought. 

“Vix, please, he needs you.”

“Thank him for me?”

James sobbed.

“I’m so-” you grunted and fought the urge to gag. “I’m so thankful for him. For all of you.”

“Y/N.”

“Tell him I’d do it all again. Every moment of it. If it meant I got to love him.” You breathed in deeply. “It was worth every minute of it.” 

A portion of the building behind James collapsed in on itself under the flames, but neither of you moved your gaze from the other. 

“Tell him for me?” You asked again.

James’s face was scrunched in pain as he nodded.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He cried.

“I’m not.” You said as you shook your head. “I don’t re-I don’t-” You tried to take a deep breath but found yourself unable to.

“I don’t regret anything.” You finished on an exhale. 

The building behind James continued to fall as smoke and debris fell around the two of you. You shakily lifted one of your hands to his face and wiped at the tear tracks lining his cheeks. You lifted your wand in the other and cast a diffindo at the death eaters approaching behind him. You were thankful your vision was going, knowing the sight behind James would be unbelievably gruesome. 

“I-” you started, your breathing becoming erratic. “I love you. All of you.”

James nodded as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. 

“I am so lucky to have known you, Vix.”

“Go now.” You said quietly.

James held your head to his shoulder.

“You - you have to go.” 

James kissed your head again.

“Go.”

You rested your head against your own shoulder as you watched James hobble to the end of the alleyway. You did it, you thought to yourself, you saved him.

James made it to the sidewalk when he turned to face you. You tried to offer him one last smile as he spun and apparated away.

A sob tore through you, and it felt as though it emptied your lungs of any remaining air. 

No matter, you wouldn’t need air anymore anyway.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it home, Siri.” You thought. “I’ll find you in our next life, and I’ll love you there too.” 

With a shuddering sigh, you fell asleep. 

It was dark. It made sense. Death would be dark. Should it be cold? Perhaps. You only wished it wasn’t also painful. It was quiet, but you could hear.

“Why waste your energy on a pathetic mudblood?”

“Information. Knowledge is power, after all.”

“Couldn’t you have found a mudblood that wasn’t so close to death then?”

“We would’ve had more to choose from had someone not thought to fight with fiendfyre instead of a good old incendio.”

“Incendio was boring, I wanted to spice things up a little.”

“Your penchant for spice lost us numbers, Junior. The Dark Lord will not be pleased.”

“Then we’ll get the mudblood talking. Once we get information, the numbers won’t matter.” 

“You ignorant-”

“Enough! What’s done is done. Someone will have to take responsibility for the repercussions when the time comes.”

“Severus is right. For now, the mudblood comes with me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The last prisoner did not even survive the night under your watch.”

“Pfft. You should have heard the mouth on that nasty witch. I did the world a favour.”

“Foulness tends to be a common trait of the Order. Please do keep up, Goyle.”

“I do not see how you are in any position to be barking orders around here. You are barely out of Hogwarts yourself, child.”

“Yes, and this child received their dark mark before they even graduated. In fact, Mulciber, I have had my mark longer than you.”

“What do you even want with the mudblood anyway?”

“Trying to keep it in the family, baby Black?”

“Yes, Purebloods tend to do that. I can see that your ancestors kept it a little too close to home, however.”

“You don’t know what to do with a prisoner; let the rest of us enjoy her a little.”

“I am not concerned about enjoying, you imbecile. I work for the Dark Lord, that is my only concern. I am one of the most skilled legillimens and occlumens here, I will not let my dick get in the way of getting information for the Dark Lord, unlike the rest of you, so I will take the mudblood.” 

“Hmph, well, we’ll see how long this lasts.”

You listen: Doors. Floorboards. Parchment. Fireplace.

...

...

“You’re awake.”

...

...

...

“Squeezing your eyes shut will not change the fact that I know you are awake.”

Are they talking to me?

“Yes, I am talking to you.”

Shit.

“Very elegant.”

I’m fucking alive?!

“Indeed, you are.”

You peeled your eyes open and blinked against the light above you. The room was dark, with dark-grained wood on the ceiling and walls, and little light save from the gaudy chandelier above you and a tiny window letting in a minuscule amount of light which seemed to dissipate by the time it reached one foot from the source.  

Your neck cracked loudly as you turned your head to the voice, and you swore you felt your heart fall out of your feet.

“You can’t be serious?” You rasped disbelievingly. 

“Close, but no.” The man smirked as he stood and moved toward the table you were lying on. “The name is Regulus. Regulus Arcturus Black.”

You felt your heart rate pick up as you stared at the face of a man who held an uncanny similarity to your boyfriend. 

“I don’t suppose you happen to know occlumency, do you?”

You shook your head; unsure you could voice anything more than a horrified whimper.

“Shame. Well, for your sake, I hope you are a quick learner.” 

And he stupefied you. 

(Present)

“Kreacher, what have you done?” You spat angrily, twisting your arm in his grasp. He appeared wholly unimpressed with the situation and less than inclined to respond to you.

“Let go.” You muttered as you tried to tear your arm from the house-elf. For looking so small, thin, and well, decrepit, he was surprisingly strong. You considered pulling your wand when someone spoke.

“Release her.”

Your head shot up at the sound. You were met with a scarily familiar smirk that left you feeling weightless.

The elf obeyed, though you wish he hadn’t as you suddenly felt weak in the knees. 

“Welcome back, Y/N.” He smirked as he stood from his perch on the edge of an ornate desk. “Ready to finish this?” 

Continue to part six here.

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 3

Word Count- 2.7

Warnings- swearing, canon violence, spoilers obvi, puking

“I really think this is a bad idea,” I tell Elena and Rose from the backseat of Elena’s SUV. Earlier this morning Elena called me and asked if I would go with her to one of Rose’s friends to learn more about Klaus. I had originally going to tell her no, but then remembered Theo had been trying to get me to take him to some football game upstate and I needed a reason to say no. I may hate the supernatural, but not as much as I hate packed arenas filled with drunk older men. 

“Everything will be fine, Y/N. We’re just going to ask Slater some questions and we’ll be on our way back to Mystic Falls before dinner,” Elena sends me a reassuring smile from the front seat, “Besides, Slater can be trusted. Right, Rose?” She questions the pixie-haired vampire who sits silently in the driver’s seat. 

Rose nods along to Elena’s question, “I’ve known Slater for a long time he’s the only person I have fully trusted other than…” Her face falls into a solemn look and I presume she’s thinking about Trevor, her now headless friend. Elena sends her a sad look while I try to find interest in my hands. Dealing with other people’s emotions has never been my strong suit. 

“The bottom line is, we can trust him. If anyone is going to know anything about Klaus and ritual it’ll be him.” 

I sigh and lean back into my seat, staring out the window. I watch as we drive by countless people going throughout their days. Normal-average-looking people doing mundane things, walking strollers, going to work, and school. Now that I know about the supernatural though questions swarm my mind if the people I’m watching are actual people. I mean I’m going to guess that baby in the stroller wasn’t a vampire…well. 

“Do vampire babies exist,” I ask aloud. Elena turns to look over her shoulder at me and Rose just lets out a deep sigh as she flips the blinker on.

“Vampires can’t reproduce, so no,” She responds solemnly to which I shake my head, “No I mean like can babies be vampires?”

This question gains Rose’s attention as she turns over her shoulder and looks at me with an “Are you serious” look. Elena just looks from me to Rose, then back to me before shaking her head.

“No,” She pauses in thought, “At least I don’t think they can be. I mean technically maybe they could be but I don’t think an infant would be able to hunt for blood.”

Elena and I nod together as we come to the final conclusion that babies can in fact be vampires. 

“Baby vampires don’t exist,” Rose states annoyed.

“Why not,” Elena turns to Rose who looks like she’s close to turning this car around or driving it off a cliff. 

Rose is quiet for a moment as if she is actually going to give the question an answer before she shakes her head and sighs.

“They just can’t,” She turns the wheel into a parking spot in front of an industrial building, “We’re here.”

—

“Well, looks like he’s not home. Better come another day,” I’ll tell them as Rose’s knocks are met with no response. I twirl around on my heel and climb down a step but halt when Elena’s hand grabs the sleeve of my jacket. 

“Mmn, no. We didn’t come all the way out here for nothing,” She says as she motions at the door to Rose. Rose just rolls her eyes as she breaks open the latch on the door. Impressive. Rose motions for us to walk in and I begrudgingly follow behind Elena. 

Slater’s apartment is large with brick walls. My gaze catches odd-looking artifacts that line the bricked walls, along with artwork that appears to be mid-century. 

“I don’t think he’s going to be much help,” Rose’s voice comes from the living room. Elena is already walking towards her when she lets out a gasp making my spine lock up. I slowly peek my head past the door and choke down bile as I see the veiny corpse of who I’m assuming was Slater. 

“Shit.”

—-

I’m sitting on the couch of the dead guys' apartment as Rose and Elena look through Slater’s stuff. I wrap my sweater around my tighter as I watch them get stumped by the password-locked computers. I listen to Rose tell Elena we should just leave since we don’t have the password when a rustling comes from the room behind us. 

“Is the dead guy alive,” I whisper as I kneel on the couch and barely raise my eyes over the top of it to try to look at the door? Rose walks to the door and clutches my sweater tighter to me as she opens it up and stares out. 

“Alice,” Rose’s voice questioned.

“I thought the dead guy's name was Slater,” I whisper-yell to Elena as she just shakes her head. We both whip our heads to Rose as a dark-haired girl runs into her arms crying. So not Slater. I slightly cringe at her high-pitched cries and lower myself back onto the couch as Rose tries to soothe her. 

—

Ten minutes later Rose, Elena, and I are in Slater’s kitchen making Slater’s “widow” tea. I had felt a moment of sympathy for the black-haired woman about losing her boyfriend until Rose enlightened Elena and me on her real reason for being with Slater. She had wanted to become a vampire aswell. 

Rose and I watch from the kitchen as Elena tries to get the passcode out of Alice. It doesn’t seem to be going well until Elena promises Alice that she’ll get Rose to turn her if she helps us. Unsurprisingly that changes Alice’s dark mood and she skips over to the table of monitors. She puts in his password as Elena and Rose watch from over her shoulder. I haven’t changed from my seat in the kitchen though, just silently sipping the spare apple juice box I found in the fridge. 

My ears perk up as Alice tells us his password was Kristen Stewart and how predictable Slater was. I pull myself off my bar stool and walk into the living room sipping my juice.

“What about that one? “Cody Webber, THey exchanged dozens of e-mails about Elijah,” Rose asks Alice pointing out some emails.

“I could call him,” Alice tells her. 

Elena hands her her phone, “Tell him that we’re trying to send a message to Klaus. The doppelganger’s alive, and she is ready to surrender.”

Elena’s admission shocks me so much I drop my juice box onto the floor, “What the hell?” 

Elena doesn’t look at either Rose or me as she tells Alice to get the message to him and she walks out of the room. Rose and I just stare at each other for a moment in shock before we rush after Elena. 

“What are you doing,” Rose presses Elena.

“I’m getting Klaus’s attention.” Is all Elena says as if it’s not signing her own death certificate. Last night after I’d gotten home from picking Theo up Elena called me and filled me in on everything about this ritualistic sacrifice with this old guy Klaus. That’s the reason we had been taken. So why she wants to get this old guy’s attention now is beyond me. 

“Well, no shit Elena! We got that part. What we want to know is why would you want to,” I throw my hands up at her in exasperation. 

“If Klaus finds you he will kill you,” Rose looks at Elena as if she’s grown a second head and then comes to a realization, “which is what you wanted all along.”

Elena shakes her head, “It’s either me or my family.”

“So this whole charade was some suicide mission so you could sacrifice yourself and save everyone else.” Rose shakes her head at Elena’s actions as the sound of heals and the smell of Victoria’s Secret perfume enter the room.

“Cody is on his way,” I side-eye Alice, “And he really wants to meet you.”

—

Rose and I watch silently as Elena walks back into the living room, to wait for the Grimp Reaper named Cody. 

“Ok listen to me,” Rose calls my attention as she pulls out her phone from her jeans, “You’re going to use my phone to call Damon and get him here no matter what. Do you understand me? I’ll go distract the suicidal one.” Rose shoves the phone into my hand and speeds off into the living room. I open her phone to find Damon’s contact and hope he picks up.

“What,” Damon’s annoyed voice comes from the other end.

“Um, hi. This is Y/N.” 

Damon’s side goes quiet for a moment, “Who?”

I roll my eyes at his annoyed tone, “Y’know the girl that got kidnapped with Elena?”

“Elena gets kidnapped a lot you’re going to have to be more specific.”

I sigh deeply, “The one that smelled like vomit.”

“Ah, that one. What do you want Pukey, and why do you have Rose’s phone?” His tone has a sense of suspicion in it that makes me unnerved.

“Well long story short Elena made Rose and I take her to this dead guy's apartment,” I stop for a moment, “Well technically we didn’t know he was dead but..”

“Pukey spit it out I don’t have all day.”

“OK fine, sorry. Anyways, long story short Elena’s planned some suicide mission to give herself to Klaus and we need you to come to the dead guy's apartment to help us get her out of here.”

Damon lets out an annoyed growl from the other line, “Send me the address.”

“Ok, great I’ll send that-,” The dial tone cuts me off, “Ok then, rude.” I send Damon the address and pocket Rose’s phone hoping that he’ll get here in time. 

—-

I try to focus on the coolness of the new apple juice in my hand as I watch the door from my spot on the couch. Elena’s pacing can be heard from behind me which is almost as noticeable as the scowl on Rose’s face. Elena’s pacing stops, gaining my attention as I move my gaze from the door to her.

“I’m just going to get a drink,” She tells me as she walks towards the kitchen. Rose and I share a look of discomfort as she exits. Elena’s gasps catch our attention though and my stomach drops expecting the worst as I rush to the kitchen. My guard drops slightly though as the familiar blue-eyed vampire, who I’m 89% sure is in love Elena stands in front of her. 

“What are you doing here,” Damon questions Elena.

“What are you doing here,” Elena’s voice comes out breathy and she turns around to look at Rose and me. 

“You called him,” She exclaims earning a small shrug and pursed lips from me, and a frown from Rose. 

“We’re sorry, Elena,” Rose apologizes for us both.

“You said that you understood,” I go to chime in that I never said that but Damon speaks first. 

“She lied.” Elena turns and I can only guess glares at him, which seems to be something she does a lot when it comes to Damon. I groan deeply as I get another whiff of that fucking perfume.

“Damon Salvatore,” Alice exclaims as she enters the room acting like she and Damon are old friends.

Damon tells Rose to get rid of her without breaking eye contact with Elena. As Rose leaves the room with Alice and my nostrils are free from the assault I stand awkwardly behind Elena and Damon as they argue back and forth. Elena tells him that she’s not going anywhere and Damon tells her the exact opposite. I try to sneak backward to escape this awkward situation but my back hits a shelf behind me knocking a vase of it and I watch with a scrunched-up face as it shatters against the floor. 

“Whoops.”

Damon shoves Elena into a chair, “You sit down, and you,” Damon’s attention turns to me, “just don’t touch anything else.” I raise my hands in surrender as I keep my hold on my juice.

Everything’s going fine until the front door slams open causing me to spill some juice onto the top of my shirt in surprise. I can’t bother to clean it up though as I watch in fear as three bulky men enter the room. Where Rose, Damon, and Elena stand up to face them I slink further into my armchair with my comfort juice. I would help but I don’t think I can hold a candle to three vampires. 

“We’re here for the doppelganger,” the blond one in the middle says.

“Thank you for coming,” Elena attempts to step forward but is grabbed by Damon. He tells her something but I’m too far away to hear it.

Damon turns back to face the men, “There’s nothing here for you.” 

I jump in my seat when the man in the back falls to the ground. That turning feeling in my stomach from days ago returns as I see the man who is supposed to be very dead standing VERY much alive. Elijah. His brown hair is parted down the middle and a deep scowl is plastered on his face. Just like the other day, he’s dressed in a fancy button-up and slacks with shoes that probably cost more than my car. 

Elijah speeds forward to the other two men, and I find myself involuntarily inching forward in my seat. I freeze though once I realize this movement has captured Elijah’s attention and the dark look from before has lessened into something that makes something deep in my chest flutter around. What the fuck Y/N? I’m frozen in place as Elijah’s eyes move across my face and down to the apple juice I’m now constricting in my hands. I watch as for a moment the corners of Elijah’s lips perk up.

“I ki

“I killed you, you were dead” Damon accusingly says to Elijah. Elijah's gaze slowly slides from mine and towards Damon.

“For centuries now,” Elijah’s nonchalant voice has me swallowing down a snort as I cover my mouth. Elijah’s eyes slide to mine for a moment making me realize he must’ve heard.

The burly man from before is the next to speak, “Who are you?”

“I’m Elijah.”

This revelation has the two men instantly dropping their alpha male acts, “We were going to bring her to you…for Klaus. She’s the doppelganger. I don’t know how she exists, but she does. Klaus would want to see her.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at his words. It’s kind of obvious she’s the doppelganger buddy. Elijah doesn’t glance at the man once.

“Does anyone else know that you’re here,” As Elijah says this I get a sickening feeling in my gut just like before when I watched him decapitate a grown man. Elijah’s eyes pan to mine and then he glances at the window next to me. I look away from him and focus on the outside world beyond the glance since I feel what’s coming. 

“Well,” Elijah continues, “then you have been incredibly helpful.” Gasps are the next audible thing as I clench my eyes shut and listen to two bodies drop to the floor. 

—-- 

Elena’s hands are holding my hair back as I puke up my guts in the apartment parking lot. Damon who is already in the car is sighing so loudly I can hear him over my gags. Asshole. 

“Just let it out,” Elena brushes back my hair soothingly, “Everything’s ok now.”

I whip my head back to throw her a, “are you serious” look. To which she responds with a shrug. I lift off my hands and knees and wipe my lips. Elena guides me to Damon’s car as I slide into the back seat. Elena’s door isn’t even fully shut before Damon hightails us out of the parking lot. 

“I thought Elijah was dead! You guys told me he was dead! Why isn’t he not dead,” I exclaim from the backseat.

Damon’s fists tighten on the leather steering wheel, “Great question Pukey. It’s almost like no one else was wondering it.” His sarcastic remark and the unflattering nickname have me glaring at him.

“Damon enough,” Elena backs me up, “Y/N is right. Why is Elijah alive and why did he just leave us there alive?” 

We sit in silence for a moment pondering the truth of Elena’s question. 

“I’m not sure,” Damon glances at the side of Elena’s face, “But I’m going to find out.”