#picking a prompt to send u is about all I got tonight

[byanyan]

soft little inbox call... like and i'll go into ur meme tag & send u a prompt 💜

[prettydaisygirl]

HUGEEE HUGE CONGRATS, LOVE !!🫶

for your bouquet celebration, i'd like to request a 🌼

“i have so much love for you i almost don’t know what to do with it.” roommate!james

if it's possible, i'd love the inclusion of a personal hc: he gives massive vibes of going crazy with text kisses. he could ask if she needs anything while at the shops, and a simple text like that will end with 9 x's :,)

thank you, thank you for your work! always makes my day <3

Hello nonnie! Thank you so much for requesting and celebrating with me! I hope you enjoy <3

🌼 daisy (innocence, loyalty, pure love): pick a character and an AU from the lists above & a prompt from this list and I will write a <500 word drabble

daisy's 500 follower celebration masterlist

James Potter, roommate, and "I have so much love for you, I almost don't know what to do with it."

cw: tipsy!James, no boundaries roommates

°˖✧✿✧˖°

Your phone buzzes. It’s probably the thirtieth time that it has buzzed tonight and that isn’t an exaggeration. It goes off again as you’re reaching for it.

James: heyyyy m gon b home soon xxxxxx James: r u awake? xxxxxxxxxxxxx

You can tell that James is tipsy by the increasing number of kisses that he sends at the end of his messages. When sober, he only puts one or two. You snort, scrolling through all of the drunk messages you’ve received throughout the night. You didn’t mean to stay up and wait for him, but the time got away from you and now it’s late enough that you decide you’re better off not sleeping so as not to get woken up when James gets back.

It’s not even twenty minutes later when you can hear James stumbling up to the apartment. You hear him fumble with his keys long enough that you consider getting up to help him, but then the door is unlocking. 

You sit up, your lazy figure wrapped in a blanket contrasting with James’ bright, colorful outfit. He’s covered in glitter, but his eyes shine brighter than anything he’s wearing when he spots you.

“Angel,” He draws the pet name out as he runs over to you, throwing himself on top of you clumsily. You grunt from the surprise weight of him, the air stripped from your lungs. James doesn’t seem to notice, too busy burrowing himself into you. He gives you a big, dopey smile. “I missed you.”

You manage to catch your breath, a hand lightly patting his hair. “Did you have fun?”

“I did!” He tells you just as his face finds the curve of your neck. You’re used to James’ affections, but they never fail to give you butterflies. The tip of his nose brushes your skin and you shiver. The movement has James wrapping even further around you.

There’s a long moment of silence. It stretches out to the point where you think James has fallen asleep. He proves you wrong when he mumbles against your neck, the skin warmed by his breath with each word. "I love you." He says, “I have so much love for you, I almost don’t know what to do with it.”

Your breath catches. At first, you think maybe you heard him wrong, that he didn’t just confess his love for you. Your heart pounds, and you realize you heard him correctly when he shifts and opens an eye to look at you.

“Did you hear me?” His voice is raspy and just the slightest bit slurred. His eyes have sobered significantly, which you hadn’t expected.

“I did.” You say softly, and then, “You… You’re drunk.”

“I’m tipsy.” He corrects, a hand sliding up your side before settling over your ribs. “I… I lost a drinking game with Sirius and he told me I had to come home and confess tonight.”

“Oh, he did?” You ask with a bit of a scoff. “So, you’re only doing it because Sirius asked you to?”

“No,” James counters, his hand curling in the fabric of your shirt, “I’m doing it because I love you. Sirius just… forced me to do it tonight.”

“Hmm…” You respond with a soft hum, running a hand over his hair. He shivers this time, then smiles. “So, you love me?”

“I’ve been trying to be obvious about it.” He admits sheepishly. “You just haven’t noticed. 

“Is that why I came home the other day to find my bed covered in chocolates?”

“You like chocolates!”

“Yes, but not a thousand of them. And not in my bed.” You finally giggle, and it turns into true laughter at James’ pout. You decide to put him out of his misery with a chaste kiss to his lips. He practically melts.

“Oh, and James,” You speak up again to catch his attention, “For future reference, I like flowers too.”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[leighsartworks216]

Not my fandom, but #15 for Zayne?

Intrusion

Zayne x gn!Reader

Prompt from this list

15 - hugging each other

I didn't intend to actually write these tonight bc I have a lot of downtime in the morning and I Need Sleep, buuuuut this one hit different idk

Warnings: hurt/comfort, caretaking, pre or early relationship, depression, food, hugging, crying

Word Count: 857

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Zayne knocks on the door lightly. It's late. Far later than is normal to be visiting. He'd hate to wake up one of the neighbors and give them a bad impression of you, especially right now.

You'd been practically radio silent all day. He's so accustomed to you sending him emojis and random videos, to have absolutely nothing come in was disconcerting. On top of that, when he messaged you asking if you were okay, it took several hours before you responded.

I'm fine. Just tired, sorry.

Did you stay up late last night?

Yeah, I guess.

Are you feeling well?

Don't worry about me, Zayne. I'm perfectly fine :)

Each insistence only stirred that uncertainty in his gut. You may not want to inconvenience him, but he needs your intrusion on his life. Otherwise, it would be the same, day to day. A cold, dark existence, with a sweet treat the only thing to draw him away from the mundanity.

He knocks again, slightly louder.

The door opens a crack. Your face is obscured in shadow, hidden from the dim light of the hallway, but from what he can tell, you look rough. You don't meet his eyes. You just stare at his tie.

"H-Hey," you draw out, trying to act casual. Maybe he'd believe the act if you weren't hiding. "What brings you here, doc?"

He inhales. Why must you keep insisting on putting barriers between you? "I'm not on duty, at the moment," he reminds you curtly, but his tone softens as he continues. "I wanted to make sure you ate something today, so I got takeout from a restaurant on my list."

You stare at the plastic bag of takeout he holds. He can see the gears turning. The hesitation as you realize the amount of food he's gotten. "Zayne, I-I can't possibly eat that much."

"I ordered some for myself. I haven't had a chance to eat dinner yet." He nods his head slightly toward the door. "May I come in?"

He watches with bated breath as you debate your options. He can see the way your eyes flicker from the bag to him, like you're weighing the pros and cons. You get food, but you have to let him in. From the faint growl of your stomach, it would seem that the choice is made for you.

You slowly open the door.

The apartment is dark, which isn't surprising. Still, Zayne navigates it with no issues. He toes off his shoes and replaces them with the guest house slippers with familiarity. You trail behind as he heads for the kitchen. He adjusts the lights to be set to a dim glow, allowing for enough light that he can see what he's doing without being too harsh on your eyes. Though, now that he can see, he can see the heavy bags under your red-raw eyes.

"Did I wake you?" He keeps his voice purposefully low.

You stand by the doorway, arms crossed, as you watch him bustle about. He retrieves two plates from the cabinet and divides the containers from the bag into what's his and what's yours. As he does so, he removes the lid from one of the containers and slides it over to you. The warm aroma of soup fills the room.

You shake your head. He watches from the corner of his eye as you sidle over, slippers scraping quietly against the tile floor. When you pick up the cup of soup, it feels like a brick has been removed from the wall.

He transfers food to the plates. A healthy serving, to be sure. He tries to keep the amounts relatively similar, but it's clear he's added slightly more to your plate than his own. Once they're ready, he sets your plate in front of your seat - designated as such from the times he's come over in the past - and his plate in front of his seat. Before he sits, he reaches up into the cabinets once again to retrieve some glasses.

Arms wrap around him from behind, nearly startling him into dropping the cups. Your head rests against his back. Your hands hold onto each other, as though resting them against him would be the thing to make him pull away.

"Thank you..." you mumble, only just loud enough for him to make out.

He moves like he's trying not to startle a wild animal as he lowers two glasses to the countertop. He sets a hand on your arm, to keep you from letting go, as he turns in your embrace. His arms wrap themselves over your shoulders, around your back, hands flat against you to draw you into his chest. Your hold tightens around him. Your hands fist his work shirt. Your head is tucked securely under his chin.

He says nothing of the way you shudder as your breath catches in your lungs. Nor does he say anything as he feels a wet spot form in his collar.

Instead, he rubs your back in soothing motions. "Please tell me the next time you're hurting," he pleas in a whisper. "Don't shut me out."

---

I'm gonna put my little end note here that I had on AO3 cuz I still feel like gloating:

"I feel the need to gloat about the title because it goes both ways!!! Zayne needs your intrusion on his life because otherwise he'd be no better than Dawnbreaker, but you also need his intrusion on your life to help you through whatever's bringing you down!!! Very proud of this"

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @hawtlineblingz

[glazesunflower]

hii! can i req wanderer/scara with an like insecure reader who doesn't like their hips and is insecure about them? thank u! doesn't matter if sfw or nsfw!

I like your hips (And all of you)

Characters: Wanderer x GN!Reader.

Warnings: Not SFW and not NSFW but a secret third thing: Sensual innuendo, nothing sexual happening.

Notes: This was quite soft and I liked the prompt, I'm always down for some hurt/comfort time. I hope you know you're beautiful and loved, my friend. And I hope you enjoy this, too :)

It’s only when you hear his heavy steps approaching your room that you remember how long you’ve been standing in the same position. In front of the mirror in your room, clothes discarded and scattered over the bed, others held tightly in your grasp, none of them valid, none of them good enough.

Wanderer enters the room soon, you hear the familiar steps stop shy of where you’re standing. You’re going out tonight with him. It’s not a celebration of any sorts, no anniversary or birthday. It’s a simple day that you were supposed to enjoy together, in the happy company of the other. Until you took long enough getting ready that moved him to walk into your room, leaning against the door frame, and say, 

“Hey. What’s the hold up?” 

He’s watching you with a small smile, raising an eyebrow when you turn to look at him. You’re not entirely sure why, maybe it’s because he just walked into a moment of vulnerability with yourself, but you feel a soft blush climb up your cheeks.

“Oh, my heart. No, no. I’m just…” You think of the words you’re going to choose next. “Having a little trouble picking the outfit, is all”

Wanderer takes a couple of slow, steady steps forward. He situates himself right behind you. You can see him in front of you, reflected in the mirror. His piercing gaze and the soft locks of his hair falling over his eyes. He turns his gaze to the choices of clothing that you’ve laid out before you, discarded over the bed.

“That’s quite the selection…” You watch his reflection in the mirror draw a playful smile. “But I've got a better idea…”

You turn to him now, opting to watch the real thing instead of his diminished reflection on your mirror. You find his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Come here… Come close, let’s try something else…”

Wanderer holds the hem of your shirt and tugs you closer to him, his fingers now brushing softly against the skin of your chin. With his gentle touch, he moves your head up so that your eyes find his own, sharper on yours, but still so full of poorly guarded affection.

You cannot help but feel the rush of blood through your cheeks as he does.

“What… Do you want to try?”

“Just this…” He leans down to kiss you, but pauses when his lips are only short of yours for a breath. He speaks, sending shivers down your spine. “I… Can I?”

You hesitate for a moment. Not because you don’t want to kiss him —Your chest is blooming, pleading you lean forward with the need to feel his lips against yours so tenderly—, but because his hesitancy and gentleness are so rare on him like a newly founded perl in the midst of the ocean. You smile.

“You can, yes.” You say. And then, “Please, do”

Wanderer takes no second to pull you closer to him still, your hands resting on his chest, and he presses his lips to yours, kissing you softly but passionately. He is holding your face in his hands, warmer to the touch. For a blissful moment, you close your eyes and his lips draw fireworks in the pitch of your stomach. 

When your lips part, he leans over still and whispers in your ear, “I’ve wanted to do that since I stepped into the room. Thank you for letting me.”

You cannot fight the smile that blooms in your lips, smiling up at him with honesty and warmth. Your hand meets his cheek in a tender caress.

“You’re so kind to me.” Then, you let out a soft chuckle. “How is a kiss going to help me pick an outfit, though?”

You watch him smile cheekily and reach behind you, pulling open your wardrobe. 

“We could leave the outfits for now. You look great in…” He motions to you, up and down, and with a soft smile, he finishes. “…in anything and nothing at all.”

You smile at his words. You can almost feel the warmth of his lips on you still, and you want so dearly to believe he’s speaking the truth. You take a moment to stare at the discarded clothes, scattered all over the bed. You remember that you should leave soon or you're going to lose the reservation at the restaurant. You have to pick something to wear, after all. You have to choose. Your smile falls from your lips. Wanderer watches you grip your arm, your gaze falling to the ground. 

He walks up to you, moving to stand right behind you. You feel him leaning over you, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. A moment later, he speaks into your ear.

“Did I say something wrong?”

You shake your head, a heavy sigh falling from your lips, carrying everything you keep tucked in the corners of your chest. 

“It’s silly.” You say, tufts of your hair tickling your skin as you move your head. “You’re going to think I’m stupid.”

Wanderer lets the words sit in the room for a moment, taking the space between the two of you. Then, after a pause, he speaks softly. You can even hear the hint of amusement in the beautiful ring of his voice.

“Try me.” He says, simply, his eyes sparkling like it’s just a game, nothing entirely relevant. Then, he shrugs. His sharp eyes look softer on you. “I will hold my ridicule just this once, you have my word. Isn’t that something? Now, tell me what’s bothering you.” And then, he adds, “Please.”

“It’s just… I don’t like how any of these clothes look on my hips.” You swallow, feeling the words that are leaving your lips, meeting the air, all too heavy in the space that separates you. “And it just… Makes me feel insecure.”

He doesn’t take a second to say,

“And what’s wrong with your hips?”

Wanderer quickly moves his hands to your waist. You can feel how he is gently caressing the curves of your hips, his thumb brushing over your skin in gentle motions.

You close your eyes at the contact.

“I just… Don’t like them.” You admit.

“But you know I like them, right? You know I'm obsessed with them and everything else.” Wanderer whispers these words playfully in your ear, his hands still lightly tracing the contours of your hips. “It's a damn shame you don’t like them. They look… Lovely from this perspective. I quite like the way they curve from your waist down to your thighs.”

You feel yourself swallow. You feel his touch on yours, so gentle and slow and almost provocative. Your heart starts picking up the pace at his words.

“You’re just saying that.” You manage back.

“Well, I am. I am saying that. I think they’re lovely. Beautiful. Perfect, even. And I wouldn’t be putting my hands there if I didn't.” There’s a hint of seriousness to his voice, brushing against the shell of your ear, and you can feel yourself shivering. He pulls you close, pressing his body against yours as he kisses you (slowly, gently) and rubs his hands over the curves of your hips. “There’s nothing wrong with them. What is wrong, actually… Is that you’re covering them.”

You feel your heart racing, his words sliding thick line honey down your veins, making you feel lightheaded for a short moment.

“You really think so?” You hear yourself whisper, the sound of your own voice muffled in your ears.

“I really know so. Look…” He takes your hand and pulls you over to the mirror. You see yourself in front of him. The blush sprawled all over your cheeks. His sharp eyes watching your edges and curves like you’re the sun and he’s just climbed out of a cave into the light for the first time.

“…See? They look incredible. And I have no idea why you don’t see it yourself.”

Your blush deepens, the bridge of your nose blooming like crimson flowers under his attentive gaze. You turn your eyes away from him. From you. From the reflection, for a moment.

“I may not see what you see… Yet…” Your voice is tentative. “But I appreciate your words, my love. I really do.”

Wanderer smiles at you, and you can see the birth of a star in the curve of his lips, for your eyes only.

“Then, let me show you how beautiful I think you are.”

He says and moves back towards you. His hands slide over your waist, and down to the curve of your hips. With one hand, he pulls your body closer to his; and with the other, he gently caresses your exposed skin that meets him there.

You shiver at the contact, placing your hands over his chest now. You don’t meet his eyes. 

“I… We’re going to be late for dinner…”

He ignores your words and continues caressing the curves of your body. He pulls your lips down towards his, warmer on yours, and moves on top of you to pin you against the wardrobe, as he starts to press kisses to your lips, your cheeks, your jaw, passionately so.

“…Oh, I think there’s plenty of time.”

As he kisses you, his hands roam and caress every inch of your body, pausing for a moment to whisper in your ear, “I’m going to enjoy exploring every… Hidden… And… Exposed… Part of you tonight. This is just the beginning.”

He slowly trails kisses from your ear down your neck, towards your collar and on to your chest, taking a moment to enjoy the sensation of moving his gentle lips and breath against your neck. Then, you feel him nibble softly on your collarbone.

“My love…” You whisper, your hands coming up to his head, losing your fingers in his silky hair, soft to the touch of your fingertips.

He continues to kiss you passionately, his lips brushing against your soft skin. His hands grip the flesh of your hips, while the other caresses your waist and stomach. You feel him whisper into your ear, while kissing your soft neck,

“…I love you. And I love how your hips look. In these clothes, or without them. But I'd be lying if I said I liked to see you covered up. And you made me promise not to lie to you. I can't wait to take them off you…”

He slowly moves his lips to your ear and kisses the sensitive skin there, as his hands move away from your hips. And you simply let him guide you to the bed. And, when he makes you see stars later that evening, you forget all about your insecurities for a blissful moment in time.

If you enjoyed this, please consider liking or reblogging it <3!

You can check more of my writing on (this link!). Thank you!  

[lanaxoxoxoxoxox]

6 with tommyinnit for the dialogue prompts

oh my god yes yes yes !!! sorry this took so long to respond

, can i stay with you tonight ?

tommyinnit x fem!reader (platonic)

warnings: none, just super cute fluff

a/n: toad, im sosososos sorry this is so late !! inbox go brrrrr

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Tommy, how long are you going to be at the gig?" I asked, holding the phone up to my right ear.

I heard Tommy pause and sigh before he responded. "I'm not exactly sure. I'm pretty sure Will said he'll be done with the gig and the cleanup by 11:30."

"Shit, that's gonna take a while. Are you sure you're going to be alright by yourself for a while?" I said.

"Mhm! I'll be fine. Stop worrying about me, jeez." Tom joked.

I laughed. "Alright. Have fun. Bye!" I said.

"Bye, Y/n!" Tom replied, hanging up the phone.

I placed my phone on the kitchen counter face down. I had a lot of time to kill before I had to pick up Tommy from the Lovejoy gig, so I might as well get some streaming work done. I opened up my laptop and got to work.

A couple hours later, I heard my phone buzzing from the kitchen counter. I grabbed my phone and saw my alarm go off for when I should start leaving to pick up Tommy.

"Shit!" I said frantically, shutting the lid on the laptop and grabbing my shoes.

I got into the car and started to drive to the location of the gig where Tommy wanted for me to pick him up. After 15 minutes, I finally got to the center, and I looked at my phone. Exactly 11:30 on the dot.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car. I walked around and looked for Tommy.

"Y/n!" a voice called. I perked up my head and saw the tall, blonde boy start walking towards me. He ran a little bit towards my way and gave me a big hug.

I smiled. "Damn, did you miss me this much?" I said, teasing him.

Tommy pulled away from the hug and smiled back. "Let's just go prick." he said, playfully rolling his eyes.

Tommy climbed into the passenger seat, and I got into the drivers seat and grabbed my phone. I opened Spotify and gave Tom my phone to pick a song. Tommy paused for a second, staring at my phone in thought. His fingers then quickly started typing. I chuckled at his actions. He seemed so.....focused. I then started up the car.

Tommy played a random playlist from his account and placed the phone back onto the phone stand. He looked over at me with a pleading look in his eyes as I pulled out the centre's driveway.

"What is it, Tommy?" I said, laughing.

Tommy laughed back. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

I sighed dramatically and braked the car, looking over at him. "Sure, Tommy. Why not." I said, smiling.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

we love short but sweet fics !!

thanks @gaytoadwithapopsicle for the request! my inbox is currently OPEN, but i am not accepting matchup requests anymore !!

please support my writing by liking, replying, reblogging, sending in an ask, or following my blog! all support helps for me to continue my works :]

love u all mwah xoxoxox

[queenofonions]

Friday Night at the Cackling Cat

The Hogwarts gang gathered at the Cackling Cat wizard pub most Friday nights.

Prompt from FB page Hermione's Nook. Heard of Cards Against Humanity? Well, Harry Potter-ize it, then make a crackfic out of it and here we are! This was my prompt - I don't know how cracky it is, but I hope you enjoy:

The Hogwarts gang gathered at the Cackling Cat wizard pub most Friday nights, crowded around a long table at the back.

Going anti-clockwise around the table sat George, Seamus and Dean, Pansy, then Blaise and Luna. Up the other side were Ron and Hermione, Harry, Draco, and finally Ginny and Neville.

They were usually a lively bunch, though tonight their merriment was slightly muted by the bad news Neville just delivered.

"The Quibbler rejected my story about Dumbledore entering a Gandalf the Grey lookalike contest." Neville sighed into his pint, then took a large gulp.

"But you got it straight from the man himself," Dean objected. "Well, his portrait, anyway."

The group turned toward Luna, sipping on her Bloody Mary.

She nodded. "Daddy thought your article was well written and very amusing, they just had too many submissions of that same story. Apparently, once his beard was long enough it became a kind of hobby for him to enter those contests."

"Like his knitting!" Harry chimed in and Luna pointed at him with the celery stick from her drink in confirmation before wiping it off and sticking it behind one ear.

The table gave a collective "Ahhh!" at the explanation and turned back to Neville.

He shrugged and nodded, but still looked so forlorn Ginny grabbed his face and kissed both cheeks, which made him laugh. The mood lifted considerably and they all laughed along as Ginny nudged him repeatedly in the side with her elbow. He made as if to tickle her and she jumped away, bumping into Draco and sending his nose into the foam of his beer.

He swore viciously, glaring over his shoulder at the snickering redhead, who had taken the opportunity to leap into Neville's lap and cling to him in mock fear.

Neville held her to him firmly with one hand at her waist and waved a butter knife at the Slytherin with the other, prompting mournful cries of "Mercy, O Mighty Snake Killer!" from Blaise and Pansy and bows of reverence from the Gryffindors on the other side of the table.

Draco rolled his eyes at them all, wiping his face. Harry reached over and rubbed a broad thumb over the top of his lip. Stunned, Draco watched him lick the alcohol from his thumb and felt his pulse start to pound. Harry winked and Draco felt his loins tighten in response. He schooled his expression and raised a haughty brow, which only made Harry grin and drink deeply of his beer to get his own foamy lip then raise a brow in clear challenge.

Neither of them noticed the table go quiet, eyes darting back and forth between them as if as a tennis match.

Draco narrowed his eyes and pinched Harry's chin between his thumb and finger to hold him still and swooped down to lick the foam from Harry's lip with a long stroke of his tongue. He lifted his head to check Harry's reaction and felt rather smug when the Chosen One only blinked through glazed-over eyes.

Which lasted mere seconds as Harry surged up to plant a great sucking kiss on his mouth, knocking the breath from Draco's lungs and the pint from his hand, which Ginny caught handily, raising it in victory as the table erupted in cheers and groans. Again, neither of them noticed the money changing hands from the bets made on when they would finally get a clue, too busy snogging each other silly.

Pansy held up her winnings and declared the next round on her and basked extravagantly in the waves of kisses being blown her way. Soon, everyone had a fresh drink of their choice and Seamus picked up an earlier thread of conversation.

"Shouldn't they be havin' lookalike Dumbledore contests now? Who fuckin' cares about Glandorf whatshisname, anyway?"

"Oh, but they do over in Leeds!" a passing barmaid piped up behind him. "Every Friday in August at the Dove & Dragon! A nice long beard and those twinkling eyes, you'd be a shoe-in, love!" She ran her finger along his jaw and bopped his nose before bouncing away. Seamus watched her go with hearts in his eyes.

George thumped the table, making several glasses and their owners jump. "That's an idea! We can have of of those at Wheezes, judge some Harry Potter lookalikes to promote our new line of enchanted action figures! Give one away as top prize. What do ya say, Harry?"

Finally coming up for air from Draco's kisses, Harry pointed at George and gave an emphatic "NO! No, no, never again!" then clamped his hand over his mouth at what he just revealed.

The table, as one, perked up and focused on him like a pack of hunting dogs on a scent.

George's grin was sly, "Again?" The rest of the group also made inquiring noises, including Draco and Harry refused to look at him.

Hermione, sitting to his left and sucking down the last of her third strawberry daiquiri, started to giggle the way she did when she was more than halfway pissed and Harry knew she was seconds away from spilling everything.

Harry put his head in his hands. "Fuck."

Ron looked between his best friend and his fiancee, confused, "What? What'd he do? And why don't I know what he did??"

Hermione leaned back against him and waved her empty glass wildly toward the despondent Harry; the tiny umbrella flew out and bounced off his head onto the table where Luna snatched it up and put it behind her other ear.

"Oh Ron it was the best thing! The best most perfectly awful thing I ever saw in my life! Oh Harry!" Hermione's giggles cut off with a snort and she slapped her hand over her face and began hissing behind it.

"Oh God," Harry groaned.

"Come now, Potter," the deep voice of Blaise beckoned. "Confess your sins and we shall be merciful." Harry didn't have to look to know Zabini had a wicked grin on his face.

Several voices began to whisper-chant Confess Confess Confess; Harry whimpered pitifully.

"Did our Golden Boy impersonate himself at a Harry Potter look alike contest?" Pansy purred from behind her martini.

"He didn't! You didn't!" Ron gasped over at his friend.

"HE DID!" Hermione sang out with drunken glee.

"Why on earth--?" Ron started but Hermione cut him off.

"He bet me." She placed her daiquiri glass down on table with the exaggerated care of the slightly soused. "Said my bill on reforming the werewolf statute wouldn't go through. MY bill!"

Shaking heads and tsking sounds followed in admonishment for such folly.

"Why on earth--?" Ron started again in reaction to that statement, this time interrupted by George.

"Nevermind all that! The contest, Potter, spill it!"

Harry just shook his head against his hands. Hermione pushed against his shoulder with rather more force than she intended, almost sending him into Draco's lap, which he wouldn't have minded except for how Draco chuckled under his breath at him. He glared at both of them. They both ignored him. He threw back his firewhiskey and raised his hand to signal for another.

The contest, Hermione cheerfully explained in slightly slurred speech, was held in Hogsmeade at the Three Broomsticks, with several kids and adults dressed up as the Hero of the Wizarding World. As part of losing the bet, Harry had to make his best effort, so he put on his old Quidditch uniform and carried his Firebolt.

Then they had a round of trivia questions to single out the most knowledgeable and reward the top three that answered the most correctly.

"So what did you win, Harry?" Luna inquired sweetly, shaking more Tobasco sauce into her fresh drink.

Harry mumbled into his hands.

"What was that?" Seamus put his hand to his ear and leaned over the table, grinning widely.

Harry sighed, cleared his throat, and spoke up, "I didn't. I placed third."

The table erupted in gasps of shock and shrieks of laughter. Harry rolled his eyes and thumped his head down on the table in shame.

Hermione fell against Ron in a fit of giggles, almost sending him off his chair. Her head landed in his lap, where she continued giggling into his crotch and Ron leaned back, unsure if he wanted to help her up or enjoy the moment.

Wolf whistles from the Dean/Seamus/George side of the table had him sticking two fingers up at them and pulling her back up into her chair, where she promptly tipped the other way and snorted with laughter against Harry's shoulder.

"How could you lose? YOU'RE THE REAL HARRY POTTER!" thundered George.

Harry sat up and threw up his hands. "That trivia game was ridiculous! They asked stupid things like what's Harry Potter's favorite dessert?"

"Treacle tart," the table answered as one.

Harry blinked, then shrugged. "Yeah, alright, but everyone knows that. Then it was all what's his favorite color? how does he eat his eggs? who was his first kiss? boxers or briefs? coffee or tea? On and on! And when I answered them, half the time they told me I was wrong. ME!"

"And you were beaten by two fake Harry Potters?" Ginny asked, reaching over for Pansy's discarded martini olives and popped them in her mouth.

"First place went to a fellow that thinks Harry wears briefs, likes coffee and poached eggs and that I was his first kiss!" Hermione paused and shared a grimace with Harry at the thought. "Must have committed every awful Rita Skeeter article to memory."

"And second?" Blaise prompted, his voice as deep and smooth as the red wine in his glass.

"Oh he was just the cutest thing!" Hermione cooed. "Little robe and teeny tiny Gryffindor tie, curly black hair and these plastic frames perched on his nose that kept going crooked. Waving his little wand at everything shouting Sparmoose! Sparmoose! How old was he again, Harry?" She pinched at his shirt and tugged.

Harry hung his head, "Two."

If it was possible to die of laughter, several of those gathered were well on their way. George was already on the floor rolling around like a madman. Dean and Seamus clung to each other to keep from falling out of their seats. Ginny and Pansy were slumped over the table, cry-laughing into their elbows.

Harry looked up at Draco, at his pursed mouth and twinkling silver eyes and shook a finger at him, "Don't you dare!"

Draco caught that finger, brought it to his mouth and nipped at the end. Harry stared at that mouth, suddenly feeling much better. He stood and pulled Draco up with him, then turned to address the table.

"You are all horrible people and I love you all. Except you." He bent down and pressed a kiss to Hermione's head. Hermione kissed her fingers at him in return and snuggled back against Ron, pulling his arms around her.

Ron winked at Harry over her curls. "'First to leave!'" he quoted, as per custom.

"'Last round on me!' Harry finished with a wink and pulled Draco out the door as his friends cheered behind him.

Please Like and Comment on AO3

(pen name Xedra on AO3)

Pssst! There are 3 more fics so far in this series!

[unicyclehippo]

Hmmm...how about a one word prompt of...Skin?

for @possibilistfanfiction i hope it makes u laugh

//

two

//

every week, superion talks to beatrice late tuesday night. at the end of every call, she asks to speak to you and you let her.

are you struggling with anything? she’ll ask, or what has your week been like? or, how are you, ava? she doesn’t ask that one often because it makes you hang up on her fast. like. what the fuck are you supposed to do? she says your name nicely, makes it sound like she wants to know about you, not the halo, and yeah. it’s a bit much to deal with.

‘we went to the thrift shop,’ you tell her week two, ‘and spent half the money you sent us on clothes. beatrice got new pyjamas.’ from the kitchen, beatrice sends you a betrayed look. you wave at her. you’re not going to tell superion that you picked out boxers for her—black, comfortable—and that you think you’re going to have a heart attack every night because beatrice has surprisingly buff legs, toned, and the first time she came out of the bathroom in boxers you had to put your hands under your head, pin them down with your heavy fucking skull so you didn’t touch her legs, her knees. how knees could be sweet, you have no fucking clue, but beatrice’s knees are sweet, soft in repose and then sharp and strong when she moves and. yeah. anyway.

‘i’ve never bought clothes before,’ you tell superion, and beatrice looks startled and a little sad and you laugh because it’s funny, actually, not sad. ‘i stole the hottest dress from this rich lady’s house—um, borrowed, i mean. they don’t really have high fashion here but i picked up some cute stuff. right, bea?’ beatrice ducks her head. ‘she says yes and also wants to know if spending this money means i’m your sugar baby now. or the pope’s. ow! okay, she didn’t say that but she did throw a pen at me. i’m your halobearer, that’s so rude!’

‘phase through it next time,’ beatrice suggests, and almost smiles when you flip her off.

//

‘hello, ava. is there anything you wish to talk about tonight?’

you have been thinking of things to say all week that’ll make superion hang up on you and so, when you pluck the phone out of beatrice’s hand, you’re grinning. she picks up on your energy and excuses herself to the bathroom.

‘so much. where to start? bea has been kicking my ass in training. i think she’s enjoying it. is that allowed? i thought nuns were supposed to not enjoy things.’

‘i’m sure any and all enjoyment pertains to the pleasure all instructors feel when their student shows improvement.’

‘no,’ you muse. beatrice is for sure eavesdropping so you raise your voice a little and say, ‘i think she’s a sadist.’

the bathroom door slides open half an inch, just enough for beatrice to shoot a forbidding look out at you. it’s undermined by the way some of her hair hangs free of her bun and the toothpaste smeared at the corner of her mouth and she’s brushing neatly and you want so badly to squash up next to her and clean your teeth there with her, in your stupidly small bathroom, so you forget all your nun jokes you’ve prepared and say,

‘all good here, supes. catch you next week,’ and hang up on her.

beatrice is in boxers that show off her knees. her sleep shirt is tucked into the waistband of her boxers, which is so endearing you think you might explode. you press your fingers to her hip and nudge her away from the sink so you can get in there and wet your brush. you do the same thing every night. she ought to know by now. she does know by now. you think she wants you to touch her, to lay your hand gently on her hip and make her space into your space. the toothpaste is minty and froths up as you brush enthusiastically. beatrice swishes her mouthwash. puts her hand on your wrist. you obediently shuffle away from the sink so she can spit neatly into it. 

‘short conversation with mother superion tonight.’

you shrug. ‘tired, i guess.’ it’s half true. you would have happily made a nuisance of yourself but tonight, you just want to brush your teeth next to beatrice and go to bed.

‘am i pushing you too hard?’

you consider the question. tuck your hair behind your ears so it doesn’t get in the way when you bend, spit into the sink too, like beatrice did. rinse. wash your brush, strick it into the polka dot toothbrush holder on the counter.

‘i want to learn. i’ll do whatever i have to do.’ beatrice eyes you like you’ve said something really interesting, which is worrisome because you don’t know what about that was interesting. ‘bedtime. wanna be little spoon tonight?’

beatrice goes pink at the offer and you can’t resist lifting a hand to her cheek, to touch it. she doesn’t pull away, but her eyes go wide.

‘sorry.’

‘no, sorry,’ you say almost immediately. ‘um. i’ll check the front door is locked.’ you run out of the bathroom, through to the kitchen and the front door. thunk your head hard against the wood and swear under your breath. blindly reach for the door handle. turn it gently. it hits the lock and you release it. you stand there for a few long minutes, hearing the sounds of the bedsheets and beatrice shuffling and the click of the lamp turning off and then the apartment is dark and still and there’s a longing right on the centre of your tongue, dry and empty like a wafer sucking the moisture from your mouth, and you want to pick up the phone and tell superion, i want to live. i don’t want beatrice to teach me how to fight, i don’t want you to know my name, i want this to be real. a home in the mountains and a girl who wants me to touch her. 

beatrice pretends to be asleep when you finally join her, crawling into bed and pulling the sheets up to your shoulders. you’re always careful about touching her, when and where you do it, and tonight is no exception.

‘bea?’ you whisper.

‘yes, ava?’

‘can i –‘ you reach over. hover your hand over her forearm.

beatrice shuffles in the bed. the lamps in the street outside are dim and they have covers that keep the light shining down to the street instead of filling the sky. it’s not enough to see beatrice by. you light the halo—the tiniest bit—and her expression goes awed and nervous all at once.

‘you shouldn’t.’

touch her? use the halo?

‘i want to. feels good.’ beatrice breaths out. she won’t say it, and won’t ask you, but when you move your hand to hover over her wrist, sidle close enough to hold her, she doesn’t stop you. ‘g’dnight, bea.’

‘goodnight, ava. sleep well.’

//

‘good evening, ava. i trust you are well?’

‘we got jobs!��

‘beatrice informed me.’

‘of course she did,’ you roll your eyes. catch sight of the brim of the pink cowboy hat still squashed onto your head you had been given tonight as a prize, the only thing you had wanted. it's a little small, maybe made for a kid, but whatever. ‘did she tell you it’s at a bar? she doesn’t drink but she’s killing it at the books. i don’t have the same hang ups – hans is teaching me everything about being a great bartender and it involves a lot of alcohol. i can – he’s german and i drunk him under the table. i think the halo helped. do you – can the halo heal being drunk, do you think? did i cheat? maybe i should give him this hat back.’

‘i will ask you not to test the limits of the halo in this manner.’

‘i know, i know, control the halo, don’t draw attention, blah blah blah—bea already gave me the speech. i’m being safe. it was just some fun, mother,’ you tease, feeling loose and good and happy. ‘the hat suits me, though. it’s pink.’

superion’s smile bleeds into her voice. you grin, imagining it. a smile on that stern face. that’s the best, that’s one of the things you love the most, making people smile, making people laugh, especially when you have to find the right way to come at it. this feels almost too easy? you’re just…telling her about your day and your job and the hat you won but you know that she’s smiling and you’re a little drunk so you decide not to think about whether she likes you or is showing some softer side of herself for your benefit and just enjoy it. 

‘you are entitled to some fun, ava.’

‘tell bea that. and her too. she can have fun too. she doesn’t have to drink, just relax a tiny bit. right?’

‘sister beatrice will attend her duty as she sees fit, you know that. and,’ she adds dryly, ‘i believe she is more likely to listen to you when it comes to relaxation.’

‘what you’re saying is i need to convince her. i need to tempt her.’

superion sighs. ‘drink some water, please, ava. look after yourself. and beatrice.’

‘yeah, always.’

//

there’s a girl who comes to your bar to flirt with you specifically. you know that because she told you, because she pressed her teeth to the pink of her lip and pressed against the hardwood bar, leaning over it to give you a good—really good—view of her chest and for a second you’d forgotten that there was anyone else in the bar when she looked at you so intently. and she told you.

‘you know i’ve been flirting with you, right?’

‘you? no way, this is a huge surprise,’ you’d teased, because she’s been super unsubtle.

the other night, she’d let the condensation from her beer bottle drip onto her chest and asked so sweetly for a napkin and laughed when you went tongue-tied and clumsy, dropping the cocktail shaker. which was fine because it was empty but it had clanged on the stone floor and hans had looked over with this stupidly knowing grin and only laughed when you flipped him off. 

‘sometimes girls don’t know,’ she’d shrugged. ‘and i don’t like to waste my time. you like girls?’

you spin the beer bottle in your hand, because it’s a fun trick and because it makes girls look at your hands. dani is no exception. you haven’t said it out loud before but you want to. should you wait for a special moment? or does the moment become special when you say it?

‘girls are incredible,’ is what you end up saying. it’s not that you’re scared, it’s just that beatrice isn’t here and some part of you kind of expected to say it to her first, the way she’d shared that with you. 

dani doesn’t take it as a cop out, thank god. she grins, big and bold, and tosses her hair back over her shoulder. ‘yeah. incredible. let me take you out, ava—dinner, dancing, drinks. what do you say?’

you should say no. for multiple reasons, but chief among them the fact that when dani used her water on her tits trick, you’d thought about beatrice and what her reaction would be if you tried it on her. probably, it’s a dick move to think about another girl when one is being so kind as to show you her tits. but. beatrice is a nun and dani is not. super not. she’s portuguese and taller than you—most people are, to be fair—and you like that the bar is lifted over where the customers sit so she has to look up at you, but you also like looking up at her and the way she crowds you a little, smirks down at you when you sit a little sluttily on the barstool next to her, hand on her knee. she wears, like, a dozen silver rings and her earrings dangle and glitter when she shakes her head, which she does when you make her laugh really hard, and when you think about kissing her it’s, yeah. good. it makes you a little tongue-tied and you stumble over your words and dani looks at you like she knows what you were thinking about which is. yeah. good. 

you say yes.

//

'—compromising our mission here, compromising the halo, compromising herself—'

'whoa! where does the halo come into this? i'm not whipping my top off for her, it's a date.'

beatrice glares at you. she's standing tall and straight—well, rigid—and with the dark clouds gathering outside the window you're a little worried god will mistake her for a lightning rod, but mostly you're worried that you've actually hurt her by agreeing to go on this date. but then she goes and says,

'this is a stupid risk, you can't just - just--'

and you hate being called stupid so instead of trying to calm her down, you rise up to meet her. 'just what? say yes when a girl asks me out?'

'yes!'

'why not?' beatrice glares over your head, unable to meet your eyes. 'give me the phone.'

'what? no!'

'yes, give me the phone.'

'i'm still debriefing mother s—'

'give me the phone or i'll debrief on my date,' you tell her, and you can feel the anger and spite spitting on your tongue and sparking in your eyes. now she does meet your eyes; hers are black with fury, her jaw tense, and you're doubly pissed because you'd said yes to the date because dani is hot and has this quick flirty humour and because she looked at you like she could eat you up and it's a hell of a feeling to be on the receiving end of a look like that, but beatrice... beatrice is pissed and you're nearly positive it isn't because of the mission, and god, whatever your rules are about thinking nuns are hot, she looks hot with her jaw clenched and the muscles of her neck and shoulders tense like she's thinking about keeping you from the door by whatever means necessary. but she is a nun and you're not an asshole, or entirely selfish, so you said yes to dani because if you can't kiss the girl you like, you should be able to kiss a girl you like. right? 

beatrice flicks a look over your outfit—high-waisted jeans, a shirt that shrunk in the one laundry load you did so now it shows off a decent strip of belly, and a blue sweater tied around your waist that you'd found over the back of the couch, in case it ends up raining—and she scowls.

'fine. fine.'

she grabs your wrist. your skin sears where she touches you—god, is this allowed? is this allowed? i'm gonna be thinking about this tonight in my alone time, is this allowed, dude?—and you open your hand, you'll take whatever she'll give you. you're so startled by her hand on you that you forget to be angry. if she weren't a nun, if she were a little more open, if she liked you the way you like her... 

she drops the phone into your hand. it’s heavy and you nearly drop it, focused on—god forgive you, or better yet, mind your own fucking business dude—her. ask me out. ask me on a date. look at me like you want to push me against the brick wall outside where we work together and kiss me. she must see some of that in your eyes because she drags in a shaky breath and all the anger leaves her. she doesn’t move away. you look at her lips. 

‘ava…’

your thumb flickers to mute the phone. ‘tell me not to go.’

beatrice huffs. ‘you want to.’

‘i’ll stay. i won’t go. if you ask.’

her hand goes to your hip. you want to know how much of her hand can fit there, on your skin where your top rides up. but she doesn’t touch you, even though you’re aching for it, even though she can see that you’re aching for it. it’s like there’s an invisible barrier that blocks her from moving those last few centimetres. 

‘i’m taking a shift tonight,’ she says. ‘hans is sick.’

‘oh.’

‘i won’t be home. after. i’ll be back tomorrow,’ she says hurriedly, before your heart can totally break. ‘but not tonight.’

‘i’m not bringing her home. you know that, right?’

‘it would be fine if you did,’ beatrice lies, and pushes past you into the kitchen to collect her things. 

you let her go. lift the phone to your ear. 

‘hey. what’s the company policy on halobearers going out with girls? also, like, your personal policy. not that it fucking matters, i’m gonna do it anyway, but i suppose i’m curious. lesbians…thoughts?’

beatrice slams the front door behind her. 

superion doesn't talk straight away—ha. you hear a chair dragging on stone and then a creak as she sits. 

'well,' she says, and you forget about beatrice as much as you can because superion doesn't sound angry or disgusted. only considering. and this question isn’t totally about beatrice, it’s about you too, and you don’t care what superion thinks of you, you don’t. but. 'there is nothing written to specifically bar halobearers from dating girls.' nuns, on the other hand, she doesn't say but you hear it loud and clear. 'as for my personal policies... they revolve around, and are cemented in, caring for and protecting my order and my girls.’

‘what kind of protection?’

‘physical and emotional strength is paramount, as you know. if you are being safe, and if it is something that will make you happy, then i have no reason to forbid it.’

you think on that for a minute. then, in a small voice you don’t recognise, you ask her, ‘are you excited for me? can you be excited for me?’ tears sting your eyes and the back of your throat prickles with heat like you’ve drunk hot sauce again, or whiskey, and before superion can say anything, you break in again with, ‘i’m going to be late,’ kind of brusquely. ‘bye.’

//

after dinner and dancing and drinks, all the things she had promised, dani offers to walk you home. 

you lean back against a lamppost and wind your fingers into the lapels of her lilac blazer and tug her forward, kiss her eagerly. the streetlight is almost the same warm gold as the halo, which is snug and silent between your shoulders. dani tastes like coffee, from her espresso martini. she kisses you, bold and unafraid. you’ve thought a couple times tonight about going home with her and you think about it again now, about letting her walk you home, about holding her hand as you let her into the apartment and pushing the same hand down the front of your jeans, into the underwear you bought new for precisely this reason, to where you’re slick between your legs and wanting but–

‘this was fun,’ you tell her, panting just a little. 

she groans. kisses your jaw, your neck. fuck. ‘why does it sound like you’re saying goodnight?’

‘i - well - you’re making it fucking hard -’ you say, and laugh, and your stomach twists a little because if you had said that to bea she would press her lips together and shake her head and the way her laugh escapes as a huff makes you feel like you could walk over oceans, shoot up into the fucking sky. you make that joke in front of dani and she laughs, sure, but then half a second later her teeth are on your skin over your pulse and neither of you are thinking about the joke. which is fair. but while you want dani to touch you, she doesn’t make you feel like you can take on the world. she kiss you again. puts her hands on your waist, thumbs sliding up to brush over your belly. hands sliding up until her thumbs are dipping beneath your shirt, fingers wrapping around your hips, and you feel fucking incredible, delicate and wanted and hot. but. 

‘dani, fuck -’

‘yeah, i know, saying goodnight.’ she sounds pretty wrecked too, which is a huge boost to your self-esteem because all you’re doing is clinging to her but apparently that’s fine. ‘you’re sure i can’t walk you to your door?’

‘if you walked me back, i’d take you upstairs,’ you tell her, and put a hand to her chest, push her gently away. ‘which - i had a lot of fun, but i can’t.’

dani nods. ‘text me when you get home though.’

‘of course, yeah.’

she takes a step back. out of the halo of the streetlight. you rake your eyes over her—she turned up in matching lilac blazer and slacks with this tiny white crop under the blazer and perfectly white sneakers, a few silver necklaces—and it reminds you a little of seeing doctor salvius for the first time, honestly, in her full pantsuit moment, and maybe you have a thing for women who look like they know what the fuck they want and how to get it. 

‘fuck.’

‘baby, i’m trying.’

you flip her off and push away from the lamppost. ‘thanks for tonight. i had a really good time.’

she smiles and watches you leave. you look back when you reach the end of the road and she’s still there, waves. 

by the time you get into the apartment, you’re considerably more drunk than you’d felt when you left the bar. you get the door unlocked, kick it closed behind you, and text dani as you struggle out of your jeans, kicking them vaguely in the direction of the wardrobe.

made it home thx for tonight

she doesn’t answer immediately. which is fair, she was drunk too and maybe she went back into the bar or whatever and you don’t really care but beatrice isn’t home and the apartment is quiet and cold and you’re standing pantless in the middle of the room and there’s a sinking feeling in your gut when you realise that you’re sad. it’s not fair. it’s not fair. 

the phone is hidden away under a loose floorboard, because of course it is. you hear the wood snap as you peel it up. you’re alive and super strong and drunk and it's fine, the phone shouldn't be hidden away anyway, you shouldn't be hidden away. you pull it out, call the only number programmed into this stupid, bulky phone. 

‘beatrice?’ 

‘no, it’s me.’

‘ah, ava. hello.’ 

you climb to your knees, push onto your feet. she sounds fine that you’ve called, totally unbothered. ‘i’m not struggling,’ you tell her. 

‘i’m glad to hear it.’

‘i’m fine.’ 

she’s quiet. you think about her towering over you. i know you killed yourself. you are a coward. you think about her standing in front of you, putting herself between you and harm. you are worthy. you are. 

‘i’m fine,’ you say again, anger hot on your tongue, hot down your spine. ‘i’ve been fine this whole fucking time but you keep asking so, so if you don’t believe me, let me tell you and maybe you’ll listen this time. i am fine. i’m not struggling. we’re hiding away from the fight and camila is in danger all the time and mary is gone and you - you talk to me but you don’t know me! you don’t know anything about me, and i know you don’t because you still think i’m going to run, or kill myself, but i never did, i never did and i won’t so stop asking me about my fucking life.’

‘ava,’ 

‘and stop saying my name! scolding me? poor crippled girl out on the streets—i have a job! i have friends! i’m really not fucking interested in what you think of me! fuck. you’re all the same. you nuns…you think b-because i’m not on my knees, crying and praying that i’m not grateful? i died! i’m alive! i’m grateful. you want me to thank you? you w-want me to learn how to be perfect from bea so that i’m worthy of the halo? so you don’t decide you’ve had enough of me? lighten the fucking burden of me? fuck perfection, fuck worthiness, fuck your god, and fuck your halo!’ you yell into the phone. anger stings your lungs; there’s not enough space around it for all the air you need. 

‘breathe, ava.’ superion’s voice is muffled by distance and the crackling of the phone line and the dizzy swirl of your head. ‘ava,’ she says more sharply. ‘breathe.’

you breathe in. 

‘good. again.’

you breathe in again, til your chest hurts with it. stumble over to the couch and curl into the arm of it, hand on your chest, feeling the trembling of your muscles, the desperation of your body to breathe, to live. 

superion can hear when you settle a little. ‘i am sorry. my questions have never been about doubt.’ you scoff. ‘if you had come to the OCS another way, i would have asked you these things. i would have taken the time to know you. it is not doubt, ava.’

‘then what the fuck is it?’

‘it is care.’

‘fuck you.’

‘ava,’ 

‘no! fuck you. you’re not my mother.’ you want to cry. you want your scars back. you want anything that tells you you’ve been wanted even once, even if it’s that—a sick, dreamy, drowning memory of a twisting road by the ocean, and scars where a parade of people worked to save your life. your skin is blemish free. ‘i had a mother.’ you pick yourself up from the couch. slam through the kitchen cupboards until you find the vodka hans gifted you. you pour a shot into a stripey mug, clear liquid sloshing onto the tabletop. ‘i had a mother and she died and you’re not her. and the nun who cared for me killed me twice, you know. so. fuck.’ you throw back the shot. it stings. ‘you’re not my mother and i hate your stupid god and you don’t get to care about me. i don’t care. i don’t care. it’s not fair. my mum would—i could’ve told her, i could’ve come home to her. hey mum, i went on a date with a girl tonight and it was really nice. but i can’t tell her because she’s dead and you’re a shitty substitute.’

you drink again. and then—because the anger doesn’t feel as good as you hoped it would and doesn’t do anything about the sadness unspooling in your stomach, glossy and tangled like the tape out of a cassette—you twist the cap back onto the vodka and set it back into the cupboard. 

superion says, ‘i’m not your mother. that’s true. but i am here to listen to you, and guide you. and i was unduly harsh on you but there is no doubt in my mind or my heart that you are worthy, not only of the halo but of the extraordinary life you will lead. and i am sorry that you cannot kiss someone and go home and call your mother.’

you’re standing, still pantless, in the kitchen and superion is being nice to you when you’ve just yelled at her more than you’ve yelled at anyone, ever. you sniffle. ‘a girl. kiss a girl and call my mother.’

‘yes. a girl.’

‘that’s important.’

‘i understand.’

‘it’s scary,’ you admit. ‘but it’s really awesome. and - and i don’t want to give any time to people and the church who think it’s a sin, i really don’t. because there are people who think - who have been made to think that it is a sin, that they’re bad and they’re not. they’re really wonderful, they’re beautiful and incredible and good. and i know you have faith in something, i don’t want - i don’t want to disrespect that - you love god and that’s cool or whatever. but if god has a plan for me, it’s shitty and it hurt and it’s not fair and i don’t want - i don’t believe in anything that cruel, i’m not going to and you can’t make me.’ you’re really tired all of a sudden. and very drunk. ‘i want my mum. do you have - you can talk to the pope, right? can he talk to god for me? can he make sure my mum is happy? i don’t believe but i think she did. can you - can you tell me if she’s happy? do you think she’d be proud of me?’

superion’s voice is thick with something you are too drunk to decipher. ‘yes, ava. she would.’ you feel turned inside out. like she’s touching raw, exposed nerves when she says, ‘thank you for talking to me.’

‘had to get drunk ‘n’ sad to do it. hooray.’ 

‘please drink some water and ensure the door is locked.’

‘’kay.’ you shuffle around to lock the door. pour a glass of water. it spills a little down your front but, whatever, it’s just water. ‘okay,’ you say again when you’re done. ‘sorry. for yelling.’

‘you are forgiven. and ava… you are fine. you are good. you do not believe, but i do, that God has made you in His image.’

‘wow. god’s really hot, huh? that’s cool.’ 

//

you sleep. beatrice is home when you wake up, sitting at the kitchen table with a book, a bowl of cut-up fruit, and a croissant. you don’t have a headache—thanks, halo—but your mouth is dry like you’ve eaten a mouthful of fucking sand and when you stumble out of bed to dunk your head in the kitchen sink, drinking straight from the table, she watches you, hawk-eyed. 

it’s only when you stand, wipe your chin with your wrist, and flop into the chair opposite beatrice, stealing a piece of her fruit, that you realise you are pantless. without pants. 

the tips of beatrice’s ears are red. her jaw is tight. ‘please put your pants away when you take them off,’ she says, and turns the page of her book even though you’re pretty sure she wasn’t done reading the last one. 

‘uh. yeah. i will.’

her finger taps against the spine of the book. ‘did you - was it fun?’

‘yeah.’ 

‘good. i’m glad.’ beatrice pushes the croissant over to you. ‘pain au chocolat,’ she says, and you realise that the croissant isn’t hers, it’s yours, she bought it for you because she never buys herself chocolate croissants. you think of her standing in the beautiful, warm bakery after a stupid long shift and buying you a pastry to eat after you went on a date with another woman and she watches your hands for a while as you split the croissant, which flakes between your fingers, smears buttery goodness everywhere. you break off a tiny bit and hold it out to her. ‘it’s  for you,’ she says, shakes her head. 

‘try it.’

she gives in. she gives in, beautiful when she does it. hungry. takes the little piece and pops it between her lips, which curl upwards, pastry melting, chocolate melting on her tongue. there’s a bit of pastry on her lip and the whole room is full of light. 

[mingtinys]

Silent Cry

pairing : jung wooyoung x gn!reader

angst , hurt / comfort , a lil fluff if u squint

warnings : language , themes of depression and isolation , nudity (not explicit or detailed) , just heavy content in general

word count : 3.5 k

requested ? no

a/n : this one has been sitting in the drafts for quite some time as i just never felt good enough about posting it as it's a little different from what i usually write about . but i did promise a wooyoung fic , so here it is !! (and yes , this fic was slightly inspired by the skz song)

It's not often you find yourself angry beyond reason, in fact, you'd like to think yourself a rather patient individual. But at the end of the day, a rather shitty one at that, there's only so much you can excuse or find reason with. Only so much silence and disrespect you can take before something inside you snaps and pushes down the logical side of your brain that's desperately trying to convince you "there's gotta be a good reason, Wooyoung would never purposely ignore you." Bullshit.

If he didn't want to go out tonight? Fine. That's not your issue. But standing you up without, at the very least, a courtesy call? You've wracked your brain all day, and there's just not much you can think of to justify the utter embarrassment and betrayal he put you through tonight. So you let your rage carry you the entire thirty-minute walk from your usual restaurant to the dorms and wait to be let in.

Not that there was much to begin with, your expectations having been severely degraded for the night, but the last twinge of hope you'd allowed to fester dies when your aggressive knocks on the KQ dorms summon San in leu of Wooyoung. He looks startled, but moreover just exhausted. "Y/N," He breathes out a greeting, quickly waving you inside. You don't quite pick up on it at first, but he sounds almost relieved to see you.

"Is he here?" You ask immediately, stepping into the empty area of the living room, between the TV stand and L–shaped couch. Yunho and Yeosang are there too, they peer at you through solemn eyes and let out their own sighs, matching San.

Yeosang rubs at his face, pulling the skin as he drags his palms down until they slip from his jaw and land in his lap. "Wooyoung? He's in his room."

You scoff, "That asshole–"

It's Yunho who moves first, standing and catching your arm before you can storm off to confront the object of your frustration.  "Woah, wait, what's going on?" It takes everything in you not to yank your arm from his gasp. You're mad at Wooyoung, not Yunho, you remind yourself.

"He's been ignoring me for the past three days and now he's missed our date night." You explain with a huff. Yunho drops your arm and looks between San and Yesoang. Their glances are far too knowing and not enough explaining, it irks you even further.

"What? Am I missing something here?"

Your impatience prompts another glance between the three boys before San finally elects himself to speak. "He won't really talk to us either," San frowns. "He's been acting kind of . . . weird."

"We got snapped at when we tried to offer grabbing dinner together earlier." Though Yeosang sounds just about as annoyed as you, there's something more behind his eyes that sends a pang through your heart. Worry? Helplessness? Guilt, perhaps? You try not to read too much into it.

"Well, he doesn't get to be an asshole about it."

"I agree," The group nods at your statement. "But listen, don't be too hard on him, alright? I don't think he's feeling too great." Yunho chooses his words with surgical-like precision. The phrase "I don't think he's feeling too great" sticks in your mind and leaves a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue.

"Noted." With that, you turn on your heels and start down the hall to Wooyoung's room, no one intervenes or follows this time.

You rasp three times on the wooden door with your knuckles, and thrice more when your first attempt yields no response. It's just silence, and after an internal debate between impatience and hesitancy, you reach for the knob and twist.

The door only opens but a few inches when a loud huff resonates through the pitch-black room. "I told you guys to leave me alone," Wooyoung croaks, his voice raspy and raw.

You ignore his request and allow yourself in anyways, shutting the door behind you and enveloping the room in near darkness. The poor lighting situation unfortunately doesn't do much in terms of masking the clutter you're faced with upon second glance. Various piles of clothes are haphazardly strewn about, making the room feel more like a maze than a habitable environment. Open and unfinished food containers cast a rather unpleasant aroma that clings to your olfactory senses and causes your nose to scrunch up involuntarily.

Wooyoung himself lays in bed, wrapped in a thick cocoon of blankets with his back turned to the door. A faint glow highlights the portions of his face visible to you and you can just barely pick up on a popular TikTok audio playing on a loop over the hum of the A/C unit.

You stop a few feet from him. "Oh, so your phone is working. Good to know."

Wooyoung's head whips around with lightning speed, eyes blown wide with surprise. "Y/N? Why are you here?"

You roll your eyes at his incredulous expression. "Do you have any idea what day it is?"

He thinks for a moment, hazy eyes scanning the room, and then you. He blinks once, twice, a third time. "Thursday?"

"It's Saturday, Wooyoung."

"Oh."

He visibly deflates, sinking further into the safety of his blanket and flipping back to his side, leaving you to spill your grievances to the back of his head. "Is that all you have to say? I waited alone for you to show up for nearly two hours, and all you have to say is 'oh.'?"

"I'm sorry." He doesn't sound it. "I'm not really sure what else you want me to say."

Your fists ball up at your sides with how apathetic he is. It's just so unlike him, giving you the cold shoulder as opposed to greeting you with eager kisses and excited giggles. A knot ties itself tightly in your gut and twists uncomfortably. You uncurl your fingers and wriggle them, trying to release the built-up tension. Forcing a calmness into your voice that honestly, you aren't sure how you manage, you speak.

"Woo, why are you being like this?" You cross your arms over your chest, preparing to protect yourself from another very likely short response from your boyfriend. "You could have at least told me you weren't coming, or texted to let me know you were okay. . ."

He huffs again. "Fine. I'm sorry I flaked. I'm an asshole, I get it. Now please leave, I'm not in the mood."

It should make you even angrier. His complete disregard for how he's talking to you, the careless attitude he uses to cover up whatever he's actually feeling. But you've known Wooyoung for too long, and something must be seriously wrong for him to behave how he is. The knot in your stomach coils even tighter and stretches into your chest, constricting your airways. You're starting to understand why Yeosang looked so worried.

You manage to suck down a deep breath that allows your prior frustration to dissipate just enough so you can keep a cool head, even if he can't. You choose your next words carefully, dropping your voice down to a patient whisper.

"I don't wanna leave without knowing you're okay, but if you say you are . . . then I'll believe you, I won't pry any further."

The room descends into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the increasingly rapid and jagged breathing of the boy in front of you. Something halfway between a choked sob and hiccup bubbles up from the confines of his throat. The uncharacteristic sound is worse than anything you've heard pass through his lips before. It nearly splits your heart right down the middle.

"Baby," you coax. "Tell me what you need and I'll do what I can." You take a seat on the edge of his bed, and rest your palm where his shoulder is just beneath the blanket, lightly squeezing to try and initiate some form of comfort.

Wooyoung crumbles all too quickly for what your heart can handle. He shrinks even further as he curls into a loose ball. One hand shoots out from under his fortress to grip yours that rests on his shoulder. He cradles your hand against his chest, holding on the way a frightened child would. Cry after cry tumbles from his lips in a wretched sound, something akin to that of shattering glass on cold tile.

"I don't know," he gasps out. "I don't fucking know!"

"Okay, okay," you coo, using your free hand to repeatedly comb through strands of his messy, unwashed hair. "It's okay." You aren't sure what to say, and you're terrified you'll say the wrong thing, so you opt for nothing at all. You simply let Wooyoung cry, trusting that eventually, he'll let you know what he needs, even if it's just the rest of the night alone.

You aren't sure how long the two of you sit in silence or when Wooyoung's sobs finally begin to taper out to sniffles. Though what he says next sends your heart plummeting to your stomach and snags the air from your lungs.

"I just wanna be good enough." He confesses.

Your fingers freeze in his hair as you try to process some type of response, but the best you can get out is "What do you mean?"

"I just. . . I just feel— like shit. Like a shit friend, a shit boyfriend, a shit idol, a shit person. I feel disgusting."

Realistically, you know there's nothing in the world you can say in this moment to relieve the anguish he feels. You can let praise after praise for him fall from your lips, but they'd never reach his ears. Not when he's already convinced himself he isn't worthy of them. But that doesn't stop you from wanting to at least try. Even if it only relieves a fraction of what he feels. And you think maybe if you can't heal his mind, you can at least make sure he's physically okay.

You give his hand that's still clutching yours to his chest a squeeze. "Why don't we make something to eat, hm? You must be hungry?" But he shakes his head.

"Some tea then? Water?" He shakes his head again.

"Baby, you gotta do something to take care of yourself."

Wooyoung lets out a shaky sigh, "I don't want them to see me, not like this." You piece together he must be talking about his members. Which means no venturing out to the kitchen for food or drinks.

"Okay, maybe a bath then?"

He thinks for a moment, but surprises you when he, albeit reluctantly, agrees. Maybe he's caught on that you won't be giving up until he does at least something. Maybe he's just trying to appease you so you'll stop pestering him. Or maybe he just genuinely wants to. Whatever the reason, you're happy for it.

You slip your hand from his grasp and whisper that you'll get the water started and for him to take all the time he needs. When the tub fills and bubbles form from the bath solution you poured in, you come back to find him unraveled from his nest of blankets and sitting on the edge of his bed. You smooth his hair back and he looks up at you with sad eyes.

"It's ready whenever you are. I'll give you some time to get undressed and settle in, okay?"

The way he nods is robotic and the glassy and distant reflection in his eyes drives daggers through your heart. You wonder if he even heard you, but then he meekly rises to his feet, rubbing at stiff joints on the way up. He disappears to the bathroom moments before two knocks resonate from the wooden door.

You open it by just a crack, fully preparing to shoo off whoever it is as per Wooyoung's wishes. But when you're met face to face with a disheveled red-eyed Yeosang, you don't have the heart to tell him to go away. So you take a quick peek to make sure Wooyoung is shut away in the bathroom before opening his door the rest of the way.

Yeosang peaks around the dim room. "Is Wooyoung okay?" He whispers.

You offer up as good of a smile as you can despite the circumstances. You're not sure you've ever seen Yeosang so concerned. "He will be," you assure. The blond boy in front of you nods and mumbles out his own affirmations of Wooyoung's well-being.

"Uh, I know he probably doesn't want the extra attention right now, but could you give him this for me?" Yeosang extends a water bottle and two bags of snacks for you to take. "Oh– and San asked me to give this as well." He untucks what looks like a stuffed dog from under his arm and hands it to you as well with the utmost care. "Shiber is his favorite, but San said he thinks Wooyoung needs him more tonight."

"I'll let him know," you speak softly and Yeosang nods, but doesn't leave. He just stands there, nervously looking around and shifting from side to side. "Are you okay?" You ask.

"He scares me when he's like this."

"It's happened before?"

Yeosang nods. "Not a lot, but sometimes he just gets too caught up in his own head and shuts everyone out. I know he'll be fine, he always is . . . But he's my best friend, you know? It hurts."

You nod, understanding exactly what he means. It's hard, watching someone you love struggle and not knowing how to help them. "Yeah, I know. If it's any solace, he did get out of bed." You check over your shoulder to make sure Wooyoung hasn't reappeared. "Hopefully washing up makes him feel a little better."

The information causes a sad smile to lift the corners of Yeosang's lips. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"I'll try to keep you updated or let you know if he needs anything."

Yeosang nods, "Please do."

The two of you say your goodbyes and you shut the door back as softly as possible before setting the items Yeosang brought on his bed and returning to the door of the bathroom. You knock a few times, making sure it's okay that you enter, to which you only receive a half-hearted hum as permission. You peer in and see the tub still remains untouched. Frowning, you step fully inside to find Wooyoung stood in front of his sink mirror, seemingly lost in thought as he stares at his reflection.

His t-shirt lays discarded on the counter, leaving him shivering in just his red plaid boxers. His eyes are sad as they roam over his own figure, lips pursed in a thin line, expression one of disappointment. He takes in a deep breath, chest puffing out as it fills with air and deflates seconds later. Trembling, he wraps his arms around his torso and drops his gaze to the porcelain sink.

You take it upon yourself to slip into the space between him and the mirror, effectively blocking his ability to look even if he wanted to. You tilt your head enough to gaze at him from below, finding his eyelids squeezed shut and his jaw tensed.

Wooyoung's breath hitches when you place a gentle palm on his cheek, but he relaxes into the warmth of it twice as fast. You lift his head, thumb working to rub half circles into the damp skin.

You press a feathery kiss to the space between his eyes, and the action causes them to flutter open. "Hi, my beautiful boy." His bottom lip quivers the tiniest amount.

"C'mon, it'll get cold if we wait too long, yeah?"

He nods and tries to take one last look in the mirror, but you keep his face from turning enough to do so and he doesn't even try to fight you on it. Your hand slips from his cheek and reaches out for his, taking it and leading him over to the steaming tub.

"I'll grab some towels for when you're done." You offer, though it's more of an excuse to give him some privacy while he finishes undressing and slips in. You can only imagine how vulnerable he feels right now and it only feels right to extend that courtesy.

When you return he's fully submerged, covered by the opaque and foamy water. "I set out some shampoo and stuff earlier, but if you need anything else just call out, okay?" You say, crouching beside the tub and using the edge of it to rest your hands for balance. "Would it be okay if I cleaned up your room a bit?"

Wooyoung thinks for a moment, chewing at the inside of his cheek. "I won't if you don't want me to." You give him an out.

"Actually, um . . . Could you maybe just sit with me for a little? Please." His eyes flit back and forth between you and the still water.

"Of course," you whisper, using the tub's edge to push yourself to stand. You swiftly discard your own clothes and fold them up on the counter along with Wooyoung's. "Scoot up a bit," you instruct, and he does. Carefully, as to not splash any water, you step in and lower yourself into the warm liquid. Your back rests against the wall of the tub with Wooyoung positioned between your legs.

Taking a quarter-sized amount of shampoo in your palm, you begin lathering it into his hair and massaging his scalp. He stays silent while you work away, doing as you ask almost absent-mindedly when you guide him this way and that to rinse the products from his hair.

"Okay, lean back," you instruct one last time, guiding his head down to dip his hair in the water and cleanse it of conditioner.

"Thank you," he mumbles, turning his head a little bit to look at you. "You didn't have to do all that."

Leaning forward, you wrap your arms around his abdomen and rest your chin on his shoulder. "I didn't, but I wanted to."

"And I'm sorry for ignoring you, I'm so sor—"

"It's okay, I know." You mumble, lifting your head from its resting position just enough to press a kiss behind his ear. He relaxes slightly, and you continue. Peppering butterfly kisses down the side of his neck and to his shoulder.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, the only noise a soft buzzing emitting from the fluorescent lights above. The warm water mixed with Wooyoung's even breaths work like a lullaby and you finally allow yourself a moment to relax. Your eyelids feel heavy, the stress of today's events finally catching up with your body. You rest against Wooyoung and continue to hold him, cheek smushed against his shoulder blade.

"It's okay if you want to go, I know you're probably tired." He suddenly speaks.

You hum against his skin, "I'm not leaving, not unless you ask me to."

"I just don't want you to feel like you have to, I can handle shit like this myself."

"That's the problem, Wooyoung." You sigh, not out of frustration or anything of the sort, but because your heart hurts for him and you're running out of ways to let him know you truly do want to help. "You're not a burden. Not to me, or Yeosang, or San, or Yunho— anyone. Why didn't you just tell us? You know we're there for you no matter what."

"I didn't know how," His voice breaks. "I don't like being like this. I hate who I am right now but I can't stop it!"

Wooyoung's shoulders tremble, and you can sense another pent-up wave of emotions ready to crest. "I just want to feel okay again," he sobs and you instinctively shift back, pulling him with you to recline. He sinks into the water a bit, head under your chin and resting against your chest. You reposition your arms for him to get comfortable, wrapping them around his midsection.

The final thread he'd been hanging on to finally snaps and Wooyoung completely shatters in your arms right then and there. His wails fill the room with perhaps the most heartbreaking sounds you've had the misfortune to hear. You hold him for what feels like hours, your own silent tears streaming steadily down your cheeks.

There's absolutely nothing you can say in that moment and you hate it. You hate feeling helpless, you hate that Wooyoung ever has to feel this way, and you hate the world for being so harsh to him. It isn't fair.

You can sit there and tell him everything that will be okay and kiss him better all you want, but at the end of the day, those are just empty dreams. It's ambitious to believe you alone could piece him back together in this moment. So you do the best you can, and just hold the broken pieces of him together so that none get lost. Even if they slice your skin and leave your hands bleeding, you'll make sure to handle them with the utmost care.

[muldermuse]

A Hard Day: Fox Mulder X Reader

Today I had a hard day and I just want a fictional FBI agent to take care of me lol

A/N: References to poor mental health, depression, anxiety and crying.

If u have any prompts or Fox Mulder ideas pls send them my way honeyss

You had lost track of how long you had been sitting in the darkness. You had not taken your work clothes off and you were sitting upright staring at a wall. Your shirt was itchy and your shoes were tight but you had no energy to change into your pyjamas. Today was awful, that many things had gone wrong that it was bordering on slightly funny that it had been such a catastrophe. However, rather than laughing at the past ten hours, you felt completely numb and unable to process your emotions. You did not want to take care of yourself, that would be an effort and take energy that you currently did not possess.

The room was still, occasionally a flicker of light would scatter across the wall from the window overlooking the street. You considered staying like this all night, hoping that maybe your exhaustion would overcome your emotions and you’d pass out asleep without needing to move. You had struggled with your mental health for a while and you were largely in control of it, however, slip ups were natural and days like today reminded you of how far you’d come. Despite the sadness that weighed down your limbs, you appreciated that days like this were few and far between. That was largely due to medication, routine and your boyfriend, Fox Mulder.

Which reminded you, it was a Thursday and you had arranged for Fox to stay over. You had a Thursday routine of having a pre weekend bottle of beer, making a sandwich and eating chips in front of the TV until you both had to drag the other to bed. You’d chat idly about the week, a blanket covering you on your sofa as you watched the Golden Girls with his arm protectively over your shoulder. You loved it and whilst you saw him most weekends; there was something special about your Thursday tradition. It wouldn’t be fair on him to stay tonight, you didn’t want to cancel but you’d accepted your fate of sitting in your dark room and trying to keep your thoughts from getting more negative.

No answer, straight to his voicemail. “Hi Fox, I’m really sorry but can we reschedule? I think I’m coming down with something and don’t want you to get ill. I’ll speak to you tomorrow, love you.” Your voice was one note, you didn’t sound ill and he could read you like a book. Even over a voicemail, he’d be able to pick up on your tone and you hoped he wouldn’t question it. You decided to lie down on the sofa and wait for it to become a reasonable time to lie in bed.

***

The knock at the door scared the life out of you, you felt your anxiety rise in your throat as you tried to stop your hands trembling from the fright. You peered through the peephole even though you knew who it was; there stood Fox, his tie loose around his neck and clutching a brown grocery store bag. You exhaled deeply, willing your hands to stop shaking as you smiled before opening the door. He could see right through you but maybe it would be worth a shot.

“Hi,” your voice faltered, you needed to try and sound better than you did on the phone. “Didn’t you get my voicemail? I think I’m getting ill so it’s probably best you don’t stay tonight”. Your eyes trailed away from him as you finished your sentence; you couldn’t look at him as you lied. You felt your breathing start to become laboured as the hot prick of tears filled your eye line. You made your hands into fists; desperately trying to stop the tears from streaming down your face.

“No I got it,” his hand reached out to gently rub your shoulder but you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “Even if you’re ill, I just thought you could use some company. You sounded upset on the phone and I was worried”. Your kind boyfriend, your sweet and loving partner who knew you better than anyone else ever had. Wordlessly, you stepped aside and let him enter your apartment. He pressed a kiss to your cheek as he flicked the light on and walked past you. You let out a shuddered breath and followed him to the kitchen counter. With every step you took; you felt a sob begin to form at the top of your throat.

“So firstly, I think it’s rude of you to get ill on a Thursday,” he smirked as he began to open the grocery bag he had placed on the counter. “We both agree that it is the best day of the week and I refuse to let this illness take this away from us. I got that soup you like from the store on Woodland, you know the one where we saw those really suspiciously large footprints in the produce aisle? I’m still trying to convince Scully that it’s an X File” His face lit up as he laughed, god, you loved him. You so desperately wanted to laugh with him but you knew as soon as you opened your mouth your body would betray you and tears would run down your face. You smiled back and tried to bury down the flicker of concern you saw in his eyes.

“I thought I could warm the soup up and whilst you got changed or had a hot shower? We could just sit on the sofa and watch Golden Girls together or Cops, I mean whatever is on.” Before you could interrupt, he continued as he made his way over to you with his arms outstretched as he brought you against him for a hug. "Then, for later- I mean if you’re feeling well enough, I bought those sour candies you like? They only had the huge bags so I suppose if you’re feeling sick that it’s probably the worst thing I could have brought you but still I th-“. As he held you tightly in his arms, you felt the tears start to come and you choked out a huge sob. He just held you tighter as you cried, his hands ran through your hair as you wept and wept and wept until you felt you had no liquid left to leave your tear ducts. You had no idea how long he’d been holding you, his shirt was wet with tears and your throat felt raw from your sobbing.

“Did that help?” you stayed in his arms, trying to steady your breathing as you nodded. “Okay good, go for a shower, I’ll lie some clothes out on the bed and get the soup ready for you.” You didn’t speak, you just got on your tip toes and pressed a kiss to his soft lips.

***

The shower helped more than you cared to admit. The hot water beating down on your skin seemed to strip away layers of your day and you felt yourself begin to breathe easier as your chest felt the most open it had all day. You hadn’t realised how restricted your chest had been until now, you didn’t notice how tight your jaw had become and how tense your neck had been. You let out a shuddering breath as you turned off the water and stepped out and wrapped your soft towels around your body.

Your bedroom was tidier than you left it. Your work clothes were hung in your wardrobe, a clean linen candle was lit and your childhood teddy sat up in the centre of the bed, your reading glasses placed on his head and an open book in his hands. You genuinely smiled for what felt like the first time all night. Fox had laid out your pyjama bottoms and one of his old basketball shirts on your bed for you to change into.

The scattered fairy lights illuminated your living room with a warm glow. The smell of tomato soup and Fox’s aftershave lingered in the air as you took the bowl from the side and joined your boyfriend on the sofa. He’d gotten changed into some loose shorts and a t shirt from Old Navy that had been stretched beyond all recognition. His glasses were steamy from the soup he held in one hand as he used the other to pat the spot next to him on the sofa. He smiled at you as you sat down, he looked relieved and clearly noticed how much better you felt.

You both ate your soup in silence as you watched Golden Girls, when you finished you laid your head on his chest as he absentmindedly traced shapes on your back. “Thank y-“ you started as you lifted your head to face him, he kissed you quick before you could finish your sentence. “You don’t need to thank me, we’re a team you know that? Seeing you smile is worth it”.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being the youngest Scamander sibling

Newt/Theseus Scamander x sibling!reader

warnings: fb3 spoilers! mainly takes place during the movie! also death/fighting

a/n: god i have been so excited to write this dhsbsghs. and i love u anon ur so sweet.

prompt: anonymous: “OMG I JUST WATCHED FB3 and it was such a fun ride!! may i request a headcanon for being the youngest scamander who's still in hogwarts? thank you very much! your works are always lovely ♡”

yes, you were quite younger than your brothers

but that didn’t change the fact that they loved you and you loved them

it was a shame you couldn’t get in on the action with them, whether that be magizoology or ministry happenings (or adventures they found themselves in)

dumbledore swore to keep his eye on you

made sure you didn’t get kicked out like *someone* in your family

“you’re so close to graduating, y/n. please take it seriously” -dumbledore

“fifty-fifty chance i do” -you

you don’t typically see theseus and newt at the same time, but whoever is closest for the holidays will pick you up

leta adored you, you’d talk to her every chance you got

“how’s school going, y/n? get yourself into any trouble lately?” -leta

“why does everyone keep asking me that?” -you

“why do you think?” -theseus

he always squeezes the crap out of you when he sends you back to school

and sends you off with a gift or two

“be good” -theseus

“you really don’t trust me, huh?” -you

“force of habit. i’m gonna miss you” -theseus

“right, right. i’ll miss you, too” -you

newt had told you all about how he got into all sorts of trouble at hogwarts

gave you a ton of pointers over the years. where to hide mostly

and he told you to speak your mind, even if it gets you into trouble

but he warned against taking the fall for others, he learned that the hard way

“i’d like to see you graduate here, do some good.” -newt

“wanna hear what i did last week?” -you

“oh, dear…go ahead” -newt

you always had fun telling newt your stories

the few times you get to see him

you missed your brothers often

when leta died, you were shaken to your core

the funeral was a drag

you practically clung to newt and theseus as you parted once more, you worried deeply for their lives

they felt you’d be safest at hogwarts and encouraged you to enjoy it while you could

��i really wish i could be out there with them” -you

“i know you do, but think about your education for a moment” -dumbledore

“mm, okay, still want to help” -you

“why can’t you be a cheeky hermit like newt was your age?” -dumbledore

“because i’m not newt” -you “or theseus, before you go there”

“you’re funny like them, though” -dumbledore

you really did remind him of newt and theseus, but your dynamic also reminded him of him, aberforth, and ariana

when newt’s friend, jacob, showed up to hogwarts, you were so excited

“hello! you must be jacob!” -you

“hey, yeah, that’s me. you, uh, you a psychic or something?” -jacob

“i’m something, y/n scamander” -you

“oh! oh, you’re the little sibling! look at you in your funny little uniform. wow, another scamander. you uptight or an animal lover?” -jacob

“just me, thank you” -you

giving jacob the tour

“do you fly around this place on those broomsticks, too?” -jacob

“i did once or twice” -you, laughing “got kicked off the quidditch team, though. i had my fair streak of trouble”

“quidditch? what’s that?” -jacob

“it’s the sport that they’re playing” -you

“like…like baseball?” -jacob

“sure, like baseball” -you

when your brothers got back to hogwarts, you were ecstatic (and desperate to get in on it all)

“y/n, don’t you have studies?” -theseus

“shhh, just let me have this” -you

“hi there, y/n, missed you” -newt

“where’s the case?” -you

“oh, i dont have it at the moment” -newt

“what? where is it?” -you

“bunty has it” -newt

“and where is she?” -you

you were highly intrigued by the issue at hand

well, not so much intrigued as you were desperate to know what was going on

any detail left out would make you lose sleep

“where are you staying tonight?” -you

“they’ll be staying at the hog’s head inn” -dumbledore

“may i come, too? just for tonight?” -you

“ah, i don’t know if that’s appropriate—” -dumbledore

“we’ll sign off on it” -newt

*theseus side eyes*

you brought some of your homework along and did it at the bar, just wanting to be near

newt helped you out with it for a bit

“hey, i remember this. you need a hand? or another head?” -newt

“sure, that’d be great” -you

you told him how you’d gone through the boggart lesson recently

“oh! oh…oh, how was that?” -newt

“not too bad, we all had a few laughs” -you

“yours wasn’t too scary?” -newt

“no, not any worse than a desk” -you, making fun of him

newt had noticed writing on the mirror across from him and left you a moment

and lally wanted to get to know the youngest scamander

“why hello there, dear. we haven’t had a moment to ourselves yet. what are you up to?” -lally

“just some homework brought from hogwarts. they excused me from curfew tonight as long as i proved i’d still be productive” -you

“a unique situation you’re in, aren’t you?” -lally

“you could say that” -you, laughing “i’m always being expected to act up thanks to newt, but they always want me to go above and beyond like theseus. i love my brothers, i’d just like to be me”

“oh, i see. well, i see you as you. tell me about you” -lally

you and lally had a long conversation while newt and dumbledore did the same

“you know, y/n carries a copy of fantastic beasts wherever they go. i think they miss you” -dumbledore

“they do? how do you know?” -newt

“i see them read it all the time. they even catch some unsuspecting students to ramble to about it from time to time” -dumbledore

“are you saying they’re starting to…to turn out like me?” -newt

“i’m saying they miss you. don’t take that for granted, newt. not after what i just told you” -dumbledore, glancing at the painting of ariana

when they came back downstairs, you were playing with the newest addition to the magical briefcase

where teddy the niffler was getting jealous and stealing coins from your pocket

you made the most of this time with your brothers and their friends, knowing that danger loomed over them

and there was nothing that you could do

but you could dance and talk and laugh and mingle until the sun came up

you followed them to the room of requirement and gave them hugs goodbye

“what is this place?” -jacob

“the room we require” -newt

“y/n, why didn’t you show me this?” -jacob

*magic users chuckling*

“be safe. please” -you

“you’re worried about us? that’s adorable” -theseus, hugging you as hard as he could

“oh, sorry. i hope you get cursed” -you, sarcastically

“i’ll see you soon, don’t worry. just focus on your classes” -newt

“why can’t i come with you? i want to help!” -you

“because dumbledore doesn’t need any children fighting his battles” -theseus

^(a/n: *spongebob narrator voice* “sixty years later”)

anyways

you were on edge all day, watching the election for supreme mugwump with your classmates

your brothers appeared before the wizarding world and you hid behind your hands as your classmates turned to you

“are you alright, y/n?” -professor mcgonnagal

“that depends on what happens in the next few minutes” -you

fortunately, your brothers came home

and you were invited to jacob and queenie’s wedding in new york!

“really?!” -you

“yes, really, kid! you’re gonna love new york, i’ll even give you a tour! least i can do for you showing me your school” -jacob

you went to new york and absolutely loved it, it was your new favorite place

and these wedding guests, your new favorite people

“you’re my new favorite, too!” -queenie

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @the-did-i-ask // @azazel-nyx // @randomfandomimagine // @scarthefangirl // @locke-writes // @sweetjedi // @beth-gallagher22 // @bad4amficideas // @xoxobabydolls // @ruvaakke // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @nightmarefox15 //

[lushfruit]

JUST ONE NIGHT

HBCU!SHURI X READER

prompt: your roommate convinces to go out for once with a few “friends” who aren’t exactly fond of you. unfortunately, they take it a bit too far…

contains: drinking, crying, fluff at the end, partying, anxiety

disclaimers - this is not my idea!! all credits to @/ vargskelegore for hbcu shuri. it is an amazing idea. however, the storyline is mine. also, i would prefer if only black people read this story, simply because it is a reader insert specifically for us. thank you <3

this got sooo long but i don’t feel like splitting it into two LMFAOOO and if u can’t tell i started rushing by towards the end 💀

“come on, girl. it’s a good chance to get to know other people.”

“i’m cool with the people i know now,” you told tati , resisting her grip on you. “plus, i need to-”

“study?” she finished for you. “we not doing that today. it’s a friday night and that excuse is overused.”

“overused, but good.”

“just go out this one time, and if you don’t enjoy your night, then i’ll never ask you again,” tati bargained, tugging your shoulder.

“parties are crowded, sweaty, and loud,” You began. “all of which are things i don’t like.”

“pleaseeee…” she dragged out, tugging on your shoulder even harder. tati was relentless, and you knew going out with her at some point was something that was inevitable.

“i don’t have anything to wear.”

“oh, girl. you know i always have something for you.”

you wore a black, strapless, sparkly dress that hugged your body in ways that you weren’t entirely comfortable with. regardless, though, you looked amazing. as much as you hated to admit it, tati may have been right.

along with your dress, you wore black heels with black lace swirling around your leg, stopping below your knee. tati had supplied you with some perfume that came with body glitter, so you were glimmering, literally.

“quit being shy,” tati complained, rolling her eyes at you pushing up your dress. she squinted her eyes, a teasing smile on her face. “show them titties.”

a laugh escaped your lips, but you tried your best to remain still since she was doing your makeup.

she finally stopped, turning you back around to the lit up mirror so you’d see what she did. “alright, all done-” the doorbell rang, grabbing her attention easily. “that must be them! meet me outside when you’re done.”

tati was inviting her girlfriend, along with her girlfriend’s friends. you liked her girlfriend, syniah. she was a kind person. you couldn’t say the same for her friends, though. you didn’t hang out with them often, and that was intentional. they didn’t like “outsiders” or some shit like that, so whenever you hung out with them, they’d be closed off. you never really cared, though. you always had tati with you whenever you were around them, and it’s not like you liked them, anyways.

that’s why you were skeptical about going to a party with them. but, as long as you had tati, you were sure you’d be fine.

your phone dinged, snapping you from your thoughts. it was shuri.

princess 💕

hey, do you mind if we study tonight? that history test we have on monday is stressing me out a bit

with smile on your face, you texted back.

you

while i would much prefer to do that, i promised my roommate that i’d go out with her and some other people. i’m probably gonna end up bailing within an hour, though. so if you’re not asleep by then, i’ll text you fs

princess 💕

you? going to a party? what kind of universe have i been transferred to?

you

ha ha😒. i’ll send you pictures as proof if ur not convinced

princess 💕

i’ll be counting on that 😪

you grabbed your black purse, placing your phone in it while walking out of your dorm. waiting for you, was tati, syniah, and her three other friends.

“took you long enough,” one of them, who you remembered as kendall grumbled.

“beauty takes time,” tati spoke for you, moving from beside her girlfriend to grab your hands. “and by that, i mean i did her makeup and picked out this outfit, so y’all better hype her up.”

“you look amazing,” syniah complimented before turning to her girlfriend. “and you, you are doing my birthday makeup.”

“as if that was ever a question,” tati replied, placing a kiss on her lips.

your face twitched and scrunched up in fake disgust. “don’t forget about the other four people here.”

tati broke the kiss, cutting her eyes at you. “this could be you and you-know-who if you wasn’t so scary.”

you cut your eyes right back at her. before you could scold her for even mentioning shuri, another one of syniah’s friends, madison, beat you to it. “who? the princess?”

you and your roommate exchanged looks, sharing the same irritated expression. you replied to her first. “nah. me and shuri just friends. why?”

“i just be seeing y’all around campus laughing and stuff, so i thought you two go together,” she explained. “if not, though. you can put me on, right?”

you refrained from lunging at the girl. she barely looked your way, now she was asking you to put her on with the girl you liked? “i’ll try, but shuri don’t go for that stuff. you gotta get to know her, you know? just say hi to her on campus or something. i’m not a messenger.”

“it sound like you feeling her, but ight.”

“okay, we’re gonna be later than we already are,” syniah interjected, seeing that you were getting visibly upset. “we should get to the car.”

everyone agreed, going towards the exit of the place. tati stayed behind, waiting for you so she could say a few words. “let’s not cause a stir tonight, alright?”

“then tell that girl to mind her damn business,” you retorted, getting a bit heated. “she talking like she know shit.”

“you know what? just stick by me for the rest of the night. i’ll make sure none of them come near you.”

you breathed in and out deeply, attempting to calm yourself. you were going out, and causing a fight, whether it be physically or verbally, was not on your list. “that’s the plan.”

well, you can proudly say that tati was right. maybe too right.

you were actually having a really good time. you didn’t think you’d be drinking that might, but you got a bit cuaght up and did a few rounds of shots.

even syniah’s friends were fun. they were assholes most of the time, but they knew how to have a good time. maybe they weren’t so bad.

you could not be more wrong.

“hey, do you guys know where tati went?” you inquired, realizing that she was nowhere to be found. she had been by your side all night, so you didn’t blame her for wanting to have fun on her own. you were just growing worried.

kyah turned to you, looking around. “uhh, i don’t know. she’s probably with syniah.”

your nerves were eased for only a moment, when you saw syniah approaching from a distance. and tati nowhere to be found. you became worried, once again.

“oh,” kyah frowned, sitting up from the couch you all were on. “i guess not.”

madison sat up. “i think i heard tati say she was going to the kitchen for another drink. you can check there.”

you picked up your purse from your lap, hanging the strap of it on your shoulder, and stood from the couch. you weren’t too fond of the idea of getting lost in a sweaty crowd looking for your friend, but tati could be in the same situation, and you didn’t like the idea of her being by herself considering the fact you told her that you didn’t wanna be alone. you began to walk, but you were stopped by kendall who had stood up as well.

she looked apologetic for some reason. you were too intoxicated to care at the moment. “maybe i’ll come with you. you’re drunker than all of us, so-”

kyah interrupted the girl, handing you a bottle of water. “she’ll be fine. i need your help with something. remember, ken?” she turned back to you.

you shook off their weird behavior because, well, you were drunk. “i’ll be fine. just check your phones in case i call.”

with that, you walked off, beginning to search for your roommate.

you knew calling her name aloud would do no good, seeing as lil baby was blasting in your ears and everyone else’s.

you made your way through the crowd, constantly apologizing for bumping into others until you made it to the kitchen.

much to your dismay, tati wasn’t there. you figured she had left, but after asking a few people, she apparently hadn’t been there at all.

you decided to go back to the couch, to question the girls, but they weren’t there either. the thought of them setting you up flew into your mind, but you didn’t think they’d go that far.

although, it did make sense. why kendall seemed sorry before you left to find tati. still you held out hope that all the fun you had that night with them wasn’t just to get you by yourself.

in the middle of the never-ending crowd, you opened your water bottle, only to have it thrown to the ground because of someone bumping into you. stupidly, you squatted down to retrieve the only thing that could sober you up just a little, but you were knocked off your feet by the mindlessly swaying guests at the party.

you tried to shout to get someone to stop and help you up so you wouldn’t get tramped alive, but the music seemed to increase every time you spoke. you couldn’t tell if that was actually happening, or if your brain created that illusion.

thankfully, a stranger noticed you and helped you up from the floor. after muttering a quick thank you, you departed from them, still in search of the people you came with.

you dug into your purse, frantically searching for your phone. once you found it, you firstly dialed tati’s number. voicemail.

then syniah’s. voicemail.

then kendall’s. voicemail.

you didn’t bother with the other girls. there was no point and you had figured it out already, even though you were drunk and your brain was slowly shutting down. you had been set up. you had nothing to wake you up, and the effects of the drinks you had were already starting to weigh in even more.

your eyes began to water and you felt a lump forming in your throat. your fingernails dug into the palm of your hands as you bit back a sob. “shit, shit, shit, shit.”

this place was too big, and truthfully, you were too scared to start looking around. you could find yourself in places that you wouldn’t wanna be.

you were hurt. that tati could be in on something like this. she made a promise to ensure you enjoyed your night, now she was apart of the very reason why it was ruined.

you let your tears fall freely, not wanting your vision to blur even more than it already was beginning to. not a single person in the crowd noticed your sobs over the loud music. you continued walking until you were outside of the house and away from the property as a whole since there were still people outside.

you stopped a few blocks away, plopping down on a curb. you cried the entire time while walking there, but you let your loud sobs out once you knew you were alone.

pulling out your phone once again, you dialed the number of the one person you even felt like talking to anymore. she didn’t answer either. which didn’t shock you, since it was almost two in the morning. you left a message, hoping she’d somehow receive it. your only alternative at this point was to walk home, and you were absolutely that it would result in you getting kidnapped.

you tried to keep your cries down so you could speak, but it just resulted in annoying hiccups that wouldn’t go away.

“shuri, i’m gonna send you my-“ hiccup. “-location. my friends, err, not friends, they-“ hiccup. “-left me behind. i don’t know where they-“ hiccup. “-are. and i’m scared because i’m alone on this curb and the only light here is a streetlight-” hiccup. "-which keeps going on and off. but i’m scar-” hiccup. “-ed to go back into the party because i don’t feel safe i-” hiccup. “in there with a bunch of strangers either. i’m also drunk asshitso i’m barely-” hiccup. “-thinking straight. i hopeyoucan understand what i’m-” hiccup. “-saying.”

you hung up the phone, only praying that she’d be there soon. in the meantime, all you could do was wait. unfortunately, you were growing tired. but falling asleep in a place like this…not the best idea.

you had finally stopped crying, but being alone in your thoughts only restarted the cycle. you felt so betrayed. you knew syniah’s friends were low, but this was another low. if something bad happened to you, it’d be their fault, and there’s no way they weren’t aware of that. the fact that they knew the risks and still went through with a plan like this one made you sick to your stomach sickened you. you were hurt by tati the most. you never thought her to be apart of something like that.

your heart felt heavy, and so did your head. you buried it into your knees that were pressed to your chest. you just wanted to close your eyes for a second.

just for a second.

you didn’t even realize you had snoozed off for a few minutes until you heard the sound of someone shuffling behind you. the effects of alcohol were still heavy, but you were alert.

maybe you were stupid to be alone in the street in the middle of the night, but you needed a place that was quiet and wouldn’t result in you passing out.

you tried to keep the fear from being detected in your voice. you threw your purse a few feet away, planning on making a run for it. “my money’s in there, please, just leave me alone.”

you felt deeply relieved when you heard a small chuckle erupt from behind you, one that you actually recognized. “i don’t think i need money, but thank you for the offer.”

you looked up, placing your hand above your eyebrows to see the person and block the streetlight from ruining your view. relieved would be an understatement at this point to describe how you felt when you saw her face. shuri went to pick up your purse before walking back up to you and offering her hand.“let’s get you to my car.”

shuri gingerly wrapped one of your arms around her shoulder and held your waist to make sure you didn’t fall. carefully, she guided you to her vehicle. once you were inside, she put your seatbelt on for you and shut the door.

as shuri walked around the car and entered the driver’s seat, you realized she had parked near the party, meaning a lot of people saw the princess placing you in the car like some kind of girlfriend. you didn’t care though, since you were more concerned about other things. tiredly, you turned away from the window so you wouldn’t have to look at the gawking partygoers and rested your elbow on the side of the car.

shuri handed you a water bottle silently, prompting you to mutter a small “thank you” and taking it from her hands.

you felt embarrassed. you looked a mess. your makeup was smeared and ruined completely because of how many tears you had shed, along with the aftermath of you wiping them away carelessly.

“shuri, i-”

she heard your voice crack just a bit and held up a hand to stop you from speaking. “it’s okay. just rest for now. we can talk when we get to your dorm.”

“no,” you choked out. the last thing you wanted to do was see tati later or in the morning when you woke up. “i don’t wanna go there.”

the princess didn’t have any further questions. “alright. we can go to my dorm if you want.”

you hummed in acknowledgment. you couldn’t find the energy to speak anymore, feeling your eyelids suddenly grow heavy.

about twenty minutes later, you were woken up to feeling someone shaking your shoulder softly and whispering your name.

“don’t make me carry you bridal style,” shuri teased.

you offered a sleepy smile, still pretty much half asleep. “you won’t.”

she did.

the next few minutes were spent by shuri actually staying true to her words despite the odd looks she got from the people on the first floor. she kept having to tap you awake to make sure people were aware that she wasn’t carrying a dead body to her room.

once you two actually arrived to her room, she placed you on the right side of her bed. kneeling down to bring her face to your level, she spoke. “yam uthando, i know you are tired, but you need to shower.”

your eyebrows knitted together. “what does that mean?”

she let out a quiet snicker because of the fact that the name she called you was all you picked up on. “don’t worry about that. i have a spare towel in the bathroom and i will set some clothes for you, okay?”

you frowned, slurring your words. “i’msotired, though.”

“i know, (name).” she brought her face closer to yours, placing her hand on your cheek. “but you must shower. i’ll set a bath for you. try and wake up a bit.”

with that, she trotted into the bathroom, turning on the water. you knew it’d be on the colder side rather than the warm one, making you dread it even more. you sat up from the bed slowly, rubbing your eyes.

finally rising from the bed, you made your way over to shuri’s vanity to take in your appearance. you sat down on one of the two chairs near the vanity. your smeared makeup just reminded you of what had taken place earlier that night. all you could think of is the worst. the worst that could’ve happened being alone in a place like that. or if you were forced to walk home by yourself or hitch a ride with a stranger from the party. the worst could’ve occurred if shuri wasn’t awake and able to pick you up.

you could see her enter the bedroom behind you through the mirror and concern flooding her features when she noticed your teary-eyed look in the mirror.

she sat next to you on the other seat that was near the vanity. she reached into one of the drawers, pulling out makeup remover. had this been anyone else, you’d refuse because you would think it’s out of pity. but, for shuri, you just knew that wasn’t the case. and because of that, your nerves were easing.

“i didn’t even know you did makeup.”

shuri flashed her teeth. “yeah, no, i usually take drunk girls to my dorm to remove their makeup and set a bath for them.”

her attempt at making you smile was successful. “and here i was thinking i was special.”

the grin on her face faded after a few moments and she becomes serious. “are you okay with telling me what happened yet?”

she uses her finger to bring you closer to her face by your jaw and you suddenly felt weak again.

you close your eyes as she drags the wipe across your eyelids. “to tell you the short version, my roommate convinced me to go out with her, like i told you earlier. i was having fun, up until they all decided to play some stupid joke on me where they leave me by myself at a party with a crowd of strangers and no protection. that’s when i left and called you.”

“so that’s why you didn’t want to go to your dorm,” she said, more of a statement rather than a question. you nodded, anyway. “i’m so, sorry, (name). i don’t usually like to do this, but i’ll use my privileges if i have to do they get proper punishment for what they did. it was messed up, and imagine what would’ve happened had i not been able to pick you up. i’ve never heard of people being so reckless like this.”

the princess tossed the pile of makeup wipes in the trash and grabbed your wrist to guide you to the bathroom. as you two walked, you cleared your throat. “thank you once again, shuri. i keep thinking about what could’ve gone wrong if i didn’t have you. you have saved me and helped me in more ways than i could imagine. i’m incredibly grateful for you, and trust me, when i sober up in the morning, i plan to prove my thankfulness.”

“you probably can’t do that.” she shook her head. the curly-haired girl handed you a white towel from the bottom of the sink. “you’ll be too busy reeling from a hangover.”

“oh, right. the day after that, then.”

she beamed and then pointed to the bathtub. “shower first, plan later. i’ll get some clothes for you that i can find since you have nothing else to wear.”

you felt very much refreshed after the shower, regardless of the fact that it was cold as hell. you were still tired, but you felt a lot less dirty.

once you had changed, shuri supplied you with a head wrap since you didn’t have a bonnet with you either.

you had collapsed into her bed incredibly easily. you just wanted to put everything that had occurred to rest, at least for the night. you were so drained that you could barely function.

shuri joined you in bed after shutting off the lights and plugging in your very dead phone. as soon as she entered the bed, she faced you. “once again, i’m sorry for everything you endured tonight.”

“it’s not your fault, shuri. you don’t need to apologize. you’re not responsible for their actions,” you reassured her. “oh, and one of the girls wanted your number, by the way. just in case you’re into that.”

“oh, shut up,” she teased, letting out a breathy chuckle. “you can let her know that i’m not interested in people who purposely hurt my friend.”

that definitely cheered you up a bit, although the friend title stung just a little. it was silent for a few seconds after that, and because of that, you mind wandered elsewhere. you didn’t have much willpower because of how tired you were, so your eyes innocently flickered to shuri’s lips. you found yourself staring. her lips looked so kissable.

shuri furrowed her eyebrows, an amused smile tugging at her mouth. “what?”

your eyes widened. did you say that out loud? “what?”

“you just said-”

“oh! my bad, i didn’t mean to say that out loud. i wasn’t thinking it for like a long time, though! it was like an intrusive thought, and it just popped up.”

she laughed again. “i know. it’s alright. just rest.”

you closed your eyes, but something felt off. “can you do that thing where you rub circles on my hand whenever i’m trying to sleep? i think i need it tonight more than anything.”

she didn’t reply, but simply just began to do so. you fell asleep soon after that, but shuri, however, couldn’t. she was just admiring you and your beauty. bast, you were perfect in her eyes. even a drunken mess, you looked amazing. she truly was falling for you. even when you made that comment about her lips, she wanted to ask you to kiss her, but this was not how she wanted your second kiss to be. the first one was already forced, courtesy of your family, but she wanted the next to actually be special.

and how could she forget about her plan to invite you to wakanda for winter break? there was no christmas in wakanda, so she feared that you’d say no for that reason. once again, it was her obliviousness talking. unbeknownst to her, you’d say yes the second she asked because the thought was in your mind as well.

just when the princess started to drift off, your phone began to ring loudly. she was scared that you’d wake up, so she immediately reached her hand over your body to grab your phone. she was going to decline because of how late it was. that was until she saw the name.

tati.

she had a lot of words to say to your roommate, none of which were nice. angrily, she answered.

“hello?”

“hello, (name)! where the hell are you, girl? you haven’t been answering any of my texts or calls, and i’ve searched this house like a million times! you’re scaring me, dude! can you please confirm that you’re okay and safe and tell me where you are? i can’t find you, and the girls are saying that you ditched them for some girl, but me and syniah don’t believe that because you’re awful at flirting and you’ve been attached to me the entire night. syniah said you left as she was walking up to you and the girls and she hasn’t seen you since. i’m on the verge of passing out. please say something.”

well, that certainly caught shuri off guard. she looked over at you, completely knocked out. waking you up was off the table, but shuri knew she couldn’t leave tati in the dark.

“hey, tati. this is shuri.”

shuri could hear her gasp through the phone. “shuri? why do you have (name)‘s phone?”

“because your friends were the ones that ditched her. she was alone, and i had to get her myself. i don’t want to be invasive, but you should seriously reconsider who you hang out with. they didn’t have a problem with leaving (name) by herself, knowing what could’ve happened, especially since she was drunk.”

“i knew i couldn’t trust those bitches! they’re not my friends, by the way, and i’ll make sure syniah drops their asses. but just to make sure, (name) is okay, right?”

“yes. she’s asleep,” shuri confirmed. “she didn’t want to come to the dorm because she thought you were involved in this incident as well.”

the hurt was evident in tati’s voice. “oh. well, can you clear things up with her when she wakes up, then? the last thing i need her to do is be mad at me right now.”

“of course,” shuri agreed. “goodnight, tati.”

“goodnight, shuri. and thank you so much for being there. you truly do care about her more than anybody who has ever come into her life since i’ve known her.”

tati hung up after that, leaving shuri udaku in silence, beaming like a complete idiot.

[luvcentral]

Hiii, if you don't mind, could I request any of these prompts with Homie?

"I vow I will always be yours.", "I’m so in love that I might stop breathing.", "Get it off your chest.", "I made you my world, have you heard?", "I would’ve stayed on my knees."

I couldn’t decide which ones to include so u geeeet all of them!

Homelander doesn’t get nervous over many things. Much of anything, actually. He’s practically a god. Gods don’t have anxiety over anything.

Least of all proposals. At least, that’s what he’s telling himself.

Homelander knows that you love him. Two and a half years of bliss have proved it, even when the beauty of it all felt impossible. He’s almost sure you’ll say yes. Almost.

You two had talked about marriage before, and you’ve made it clear you want to spend the rest of your life with him. But what if actually asking you, making it a reality, changes your mind? What if you’d only said that it was him, only him, forever, because you thought it was what he wanted to hear? It wouldn’t be the first time someone he loved had lied to him.

He scowls at himself, then turns away from the mirror to face the window. Homelander isn’t sure he likes being away from America, but when he’d suggested a getaway, you wanted to see Italy. And he agreed—he had wanted everything to be perfect. So there Homelander stands, staring out at a flawless azure sky, trying to convince himself that this is the best day of his life, not the most frightening.

Dinner is tense. He’s rented out a lovely rooftop, with a view and greenery. Homelander quickly realizes his mistake—he yearns for the chatter of surrounding patrons to distract him. But he knew you would want privacy for something like this.

Speaking of you. You’ve been an angel all evening, of course, but Homelander feels himself slip into a cheerful default. It’s how he speaks to fans and politicians he needs on his side. Not the love of his life. Worst part is, Homelander knows you can tell. You’ve got that little crease between your eyebrows, but he’s not quite ready to drop the act. You have no clue how high the stakes are here.

Once the two of you are almost through with dinner, you reach for Homelander’s hand, covering it with your own. The feel of your bare hand on his steadies his racing heart, then sends into overdrive. You’d convinced him to wear plainclothes for the trip, and Homelander abruptly misses his suit. He feels naked in his blazer and button down, even though you had gushed over over how handsome he looked. You aren’t gushing now, and his heart is in his throat.

“Hey,” you say, voice sweet as pie. “Everything okay? You seem.. on edge.”

Ugh. You see through him so easily—like reading a book.

“Everything is perfect, sweetheart. I mean, with a view like that, what could be wrong?” And the laugh Homelander forces even makes himself cringe. Tonight is not his best work. Thank Christ Vought’s directors can’t see him now.

The concern on your face deepens. You squeeze his hand. “John, you know you can talk to me. Get it off your chest—you always feel better afterwards.”

He can barely swallow. Your lovely eyes are hard to meet.

“Well. I suppose you’re right,” Homelander starts. He puts his other hand atop yours, pats it, then stands to make his way to the edge of the rooftop.

The view really is amazing, all rolling hills and crashing waves. The golden sky even has a touch of pink in it. He feels you join him at the ledge and huffs out a nervous little laugh.

“I was going to wait till dinner was over. Take you out on the beach, make it real romantic. But you know what they say. No time like the present.” Homelander takes in a deep breath, picks apart every scent in the cool night air, savors yours particularly. “It’s not exactly a secret that I… well, I’ve wanted a love like this for a very long time. Someone I could trust. Someone who would… let me love them with my whole being.”

He feels your eyes burning into the side of his face. Your hand meets his again. He finally musters the courage to look at you, and murmurs, “Someone who feels like home.”

The look on your face is nothing short of lovestruck. It encourages Homelander to go on.

“And you, honey… you’re everything I ever dreamed of and everything I never even thought to ask for. There is no one on this earth I’d rather spend my life with. So that’s why,” Homelander sinks to one knee as he speaks, pulling a little velvet box out of his jacket pocket, “it would be the utmost honor if you would be mine. Marry me.”

And you are dead silent.

Your heart races, Homelander can smell the blood in your face, feel the heat of it. Your eyes are so wide—shock paints your face. No, it’s definitely horror. This is it, he realizes in a horror of his own. This is the part where you reject him. You’re going to say no, just like he’d feared.

Homelander tries to give you some time, he really does, but he’s speaking again before he can stop himself. Best to rip off the bandaid clean instead of dragging it out. “So… what do you say?”

You blink a couple times, seeming to come back to yourself, and then breathe out: “Are you sure?”

He almost laughs, but it gets caught in his throat at the sight of your big, glassy eyes.

“God, of course I am,” Homelander says. “Haven’t you heard, babe? You are my world.”

Before he can blink, you’re on your knees, too, his face in your hands. And Christ almighty, the way you kiss him—it’s like something out of a damn movie. Homelander can feel the love washing over him, like the waves crashing below. It threatens to drown him.

“I will,” you whisper against his lips. “God, yes, I will.

Homelander laughs in relief, almost fucking giggles. The feeling sends his adrenaline pumping. He gently pulls your left hand from his face to slip the ring on. You take it in, gasp out a teary laugh, fail to hide a grin.

“Holy shit, John, it’s beautiful. Just perfect.”

“You deserve the best,” he says. Then, quieter, “I wasn’t sure you were going to say yes.”

He must have sounded really very pathetic, because the look on your face almost hurts.

“Baby boy…” you murmur, and he’s putty in your hands. “I’m so in love with you, I could stop breathing. Of course I was going to say yes.”

Homelander bumps his forehead into yours. “You mean it?”

“Beyond a doubt,” you promise. “I vow I will always be yours. Forever and always.”

Homelander kisses you again then, so overwhelmed that nothing else made sense to do. You taste sweet, like joy and the brightest of futures.

With you there in his arms, his ring on your finger, Homelander could have stayed on his knees for hours. But then you’re standing, reaching out a hand to him—the one with his ring on it. The sight makes his heart soar. Homelander takes it and doesn’t let go once he’s standing.

“There’s still time for the beach,” you say, eyes twinkling.

Homelander smiles, something beyond happy, and kisses your forehead. “Sounds perfect.”

[spideyspeaches]

Peter Parker x popular!reader and they just start dating and Peter is really nervous around her and gets flustered whenever she’s close so to calm Peter you tell him it’s okay to touch u and maybe a give him a bj

A/N: sjjfkf thanks for sending so many prompts love you 😘😘 hope you like this eheh I don't like it very much ✌ beta read by @parkerpeter24 :)

Warnings: smut :) (characters are 18)

MINORS DNI

Wc: 1.9k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

Girlfriend ↬ p.p

Peter Parker was the kind of guy who would get easily flustered if he was to talk to a girl, or any human as a matter of fact.

So it came off as a big shock to the Avengers when they found out that he, the shy nerdy Peter Parker, had a girlfriend at all.

They were all having a family dinner (something about bonding, Tony had said), when you called him, interrupting him from some Spidey adventure story he was reciting.

"Sorry guys, gotta take this," He said, phone smushed between his cheek and shoulder, fork halfway through his mouth, "uh, hey babe, what happened? Everything okay?"

Bucky and Steve were the first one to break out of their shocked stares as Peter called someone "babe" on the phone. 

Surely you don't call your friend babe, right?

"Peter! Thank God you picked up, can you come over right now?" You said on the phone.

"Uh actually, I'm having dinner, is it okay if I come over in an hour or so?" He said, ignoring the shouted whispers about a brewing conspiracy of who could it be on the phone in the background. 

"Okay, but don't forget like last time! I'm actually calling you to help me out with our chem lab manual-" 

"-didn't we do it during homeroom yesterday?" 

"Yeah but I need help with this one experiment, please Petey? I really need your help with this." You whine, hoping that he would catch your drift. But he didn't apparently, because he sighed, looking over his shoulders to see the Avengers with perked up ears, and replied;

"Okay fine. I'll be there in an hour Okay? Bye." He said and hung up, pocketing his phone and making his way to the dining room, only to be assaulted by a hundred and one questions.

"Peter who was that-"

"You've been keeping secrets from your father figure now-"

"Hope you're being safe, if you know what I mean-" 

"Kids these days." (That was from Steve)

"Guys stop! One by one please!" Peter shouted, holding his hands to his ears, frowning as he glared at them, "why are you all asking these questions?" 

"Because kid, if I'm being honest, we don't believe that you have a girlfriend, so spill the beans." Tony sighed, holding his cheek with his elbow on the table.

"Okay ouch. Why is it so hard to believe have a girlfriend?! I'm hot." Peter pouted, crossing his arms to try and look intimidating.

"Because you're you! You're shy nerdy Peter!" Tony said, gesturing at others to back him up.

"I mean, he's not that bad. Quite a charmer." Natasha smirked, sending him a look, which quite frankly, terrified and impressed Peter at the same time.

"Yeah, yeah totally." 

"I believe you kid. Are we gonna meet her soon?" Tony rolled his eyes, smiling when he blushed red.

"If she's okay with it." He said, intertwining his fingers.

"Well I hope she is, cause I want to meet the girl who stole my kid's heart." 

"Mr. Staaaark!" 

***

Leaving the tower had been a difficult feat, with the constant questions and a snarky comment or two, especially when they found out that you were a cheerleader. 

Rapping his knuckles on your apartment door, he smiled as you greeted him with an excited hug. He couldn't help but look at your skirt, the way it enhanced your waistline, and how it fit just right on your thighs, its frills swaying with the sway of your hips-

"Pete? You coming or what?" You laughed, a hand on your room's door as you look over your shoulder with glinting eyes.

"Uh- uh yeah just a minute. Are your parents home?" He asked casually, following you to your room.

"Nah, they're out for tonight." You said, closing the door behind him.

"Oh that's good, which experiment were you- Uh, what are you doing?" He asked, his voice rising an octave as he saw you unbuttoning your shirt, moving your fingers in slow motion as if to tease him.

"I finished my homework yesterday Petey, that's not why I called you." You whispered, straddling his lap as you hold his face, eyes shining with mischief. He instantly felt his dick harden as you rubbed against him, face burning when you traced his cheekbones, kissing his nose and then his lips.

"What, Uh, what did you call me for then?" He stuttered, holding your waist through the skirt's thin material, fingers itching to tear it off you. His heart was racing and he wondered if you could hear it doing so.

"You know why, it's been so long and I miss you baby." You whined, pouting as he unzips your skirt, watching it slide down your thighs in rivulets. You clench your thighs against his waist, intertwining your toes as you felt the space between your legs starting to wet.

"You met me in school yesterday." He mumbled, puffing his cheeks as he strained to keep a straight face, not with you looking so pretty in just your bra and skirt.

You had been overwhelmingly horny the past few hours, craving for your boyfriend's touch, imagining the way he fucked you against your bed frame as it shook with his strength.

"You miss me huh?" He smirked, catching you off guard when he flipped you over, holding you down as he rocked his hips against yours, leaving sloppy, wet kisses down your neck, reaching between your breasts and stopping a moment enough to hear you whine.

"I missed you so much and I want to fuck you now." You said, sucking a breath when he all but tore your bra, arching your back to let his fingers linger on you.

"Missed you too, missed all of you, missed your wet pussy. Wanna show my pretty girl how much I missed her." He growled, sucking on the sensitive skin of your nipple as he massaged your breasts. 

"Already wet for me eh?" He whispered, nibbling at your ear as he slid his length into You, "Fuck baby such a tight pussy." 

Quickly undressing himself, you openly drooled at how packed your boyfriend was. It was not the first time you would be doing… it together since your six month long relationship, but it was the first time you got to see his dominant side, and it turned you on. 

"Mmhmm yeah, only cause your dick is practically blue." You moaned, hissing when he hit a sensitive spot.

"Fuck, oh shit go faster Peter- oh!" You hissed, your skin slapping with his as he thrusts into you with a gusto.

"You like that babygirl?" He asked, eyes scrunching as he threw his head back, feeling your walls clench against his dick as you moved with him.

"Yes! You're so good oh- I'm gonna cum Peter!" You panted, chest heaving as your stamina decreases with every push and pull, your hands fisted on your sheets hard enough for them to pull out of your mattress.

You saw him flush red, confusion showing on your face as you tilted your head, your  almost orgasm forgotten as you held his cheek, "what happened?" 

"I- you've never um, org-orgasmed before on me." He muttered, his pupils blown wide as he looks at you with the most innocent look ever, and you would have laughed had his dick still not been inside you, midway in the air, his butt held high above. 

"Peter… are You, we've literally fucked so many times and you're getting flustered over me orgasming?" You chuckled, wiping away the sweat forming on his forehead.

"Yeah but you've never come on my bare dick before!" He countered, gulping as he saw you smirk. 

"Everything has a first time doesn't it?" You say, picking yourself upright so that you were chest to chest now, your nipples hardening against his bare chest as you rubbed against him, "Wanna try something?"

Your hand slides down to his dick as he nodded a yes, slowly pumping his balls as you kiss his lips. You hear him moan tour name, the sounds sending wetness dripping down your thighs again. Ignoring your thighs, you bent down to lick the tip of his dick, slick with pre cum and bright pink. 

"Is this okay?" You ask, swirling your tongue teasingly, wetting his already wet dick with your mouth as you sucked at it with a pop.

"This is amazing baby, keep going." He threw his head back, a growl emitting from deep inside his throat, "wow uhhh." 

"Wow what Petey?" 

"Wow you're- you're amazing. God I've- I understand why people like being on the receiving end of the job right now." 

"Job?" You laughed, "hun this isn't a Job." 

"You- you know what I mean!" He chuckled, shaking his head as you continued to suck on it.

"No I don't. Please enlighten me." You smiled, peeping from under your lashes as your tongue works through his hard member. 

"I know you know." He whimpered, hands creeping up to his balls as he tried to take care of his blues.

"No. Lemme do it." You slapped his hands, snickering when he whined. 

"Oh Tony wants to meet you by the way." He said suddenly, making you groan and fall back dramatically.

"You know I don't do family members Petey." You mumbled, pulling him down, his mouth immediately latching onto the underside of your breasts.

"But why? Am I- aren't we serious enough now?" He asked.

Your heart stuttered at the thought of meeting one of the most important people in his life other than May. You and May had already met (post an unfortunate...accident), not to mention he was freaking Iron Man!

"It's not that. It's just, what if he doesn't like me? Or black widow. I'm not your normal nerdy girl with A grades, what if they think I'm not good enough for you? Or that I'm violating you for Spider-Man? What if-" 

"- baby I swear they'll love You! And if they don't then it's their loss, because no matter what you are, who you are friends with, how many A's you get or don't, you'll always be my girl." His voice was soft as his hands moved with featherlight movements, rubbing light circles on your waist, instantly relaxing you. 

"Are you sure?" You said, biting your lips and fiddling with his hair. He gave another moan as your fingers played with his hair, scratching slightly behind his ear.

"Yes bub, they will love you. You're very important to me, you know that right?" He said.

"Even if I wear short skirts and hang out with jocks?" You giggled, resting your forehead on his toned chest, playing with his skin.

"Especially if you wear those short skirts." He smirked, making you roll your eyes as you slapped his chest slightly. Sighing, you kissed him again, rolling over so you were laid on top of him.

Wrapping your arms around him, you let yourself fall asleep, with his clothes in your room and hand in your hair. 

***

Peter woke up the next morning, the incessant ringing of his phone working as an alarm. 

Groaning he rolled over, careful as to not wake you up, squinting at the bright screen of his phone. Before he could cut the ringer though, it cut off on its own, only to be taken over by a text.

You didn't come home last night kiddo 😏

Shit. 

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

This one worked out surprisingly well. Masterlist for these drabbles here. Check out the original post/prompt list. And feel free to send me requests if there are any specific combinations/pairings you want to see.

Drunk/Night Out + Driving Instructor + "Maybe you need to focus more on your life and less on mine!" + Bagginshield

Bilbo really hadn’t planned to get this drunk. Some mates of his from uni had decided to meet up. He didn’t even really want to go, but thought it might be fun to catch up with Hamfast at least. Only, the man had to leave early, which he didn’t begrudge him with four little ones at home. It had just left him in the company of his…less responsible friends. Hence the double vision and uneven steps. He looked mournfully at his new car that he had just learned how to drive, and at least had enough decision making skills to realize how dumb that would be. 

He opened up his contact list to text his cousin’s husband, Drogo. He would probably be the kindest about it anyways.

I’m druk and ned ride. U up?

He leaned up against the side of the bar, making an effort not to close his eyes for fear of passing out right there against the building. It took a few more minutes before the reply dots appeared.

I am now…where are you?

Bilbo texted the address, and Drogo agreed to come pick him up. With that settled, he went back inside to get a water hoping to appear semi-sober for him. Bilbo had been known to have a sharper tongue when drunk. He went back outside waiting in the parking lot when a car pulled up and stopped in front of him. He frowned. That didn’t look like Drogo’s car. The passenger window rolled down.

“Bilbo?”

Horror coursed through him. It was his hot driving instructor. It had been all Bilbo could do to focus on the lessons, reminding himself of the autonomy he wanted with being able to drive, and not the tall, dark-haired, handsome man beside him giving very bland directions. Finishing Thorin Durin’s course had been such a proud moment of achievement as the man was a tough but fair teacher. Then he realized he was most likely never going to see him again…except for this rather unfortunate mishap.

“Thorin!” He greeted, way too loudly. “Th-Mr. Durin, what brings yooooou here.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “You texted me.”

Bilbo was going to throw up. He glanced down at his phone. Yep, son of a bitch, he clicked “Durin” instead of “Drogo” in his contacts.

“O-Oh. I thought I had been talking to my cousin’s husband.” Bilbo explained fighting the slur as much as he could out of his words.

“Well that’s starting to make more sense at least.” Thorin smirked.

Bilbo stood there laughing at the misunderstanding as well while hoping for the ground to open up under his feet.

“So, do you still need the ride?” Thorin finally asked.

Bilbo blinked. “You mean?”

“I mean, you got me up. Besides, as your former instructor I would advise you not to get behind the wheel right now.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to.”

There was another awkward moment as Bilbo debated on what to do before he finally moved towards the passenger door. He could not believe he was actually about to get a ride home from his crush while drunk off his ass. He just needed to maintain a level of sobriety, or else Thorin was sure to think the worst of him…more than the fiasco this has already become at least.

“You’re going to want to make a left at…”

“I remember.” Thorin cut him off.

Bilbo tried to fight down how flushed that made him. He had been riding with Thorin for three months after all. He pressed his forehead against the window hoping the cool glass would help with his rapidly forming headache.

“Did I sw-wake you?” He finally murmured.

“A bit.” Thorin grumbled. “But the munchkins were especially difficult to get into bed tonight so I suppose it all worked out.”

“You have kids!” Bilbo gasped with fake enthusiasm while trying to fight off the break in his heart.

“My nephews.” Thorin answered.

Bilbo thought his sigh of relief had been subtle, but Thorin’s answering snort was proof to the contrary. This was the worst car ride of his life. 

“So how was your night?” He asked with an edge of teasing.

Bilbo blew a raspberry in the most unattractive way possible. “Five ou-of ten. I was reminded why I don’t interact with these guys much an-ny more.”

“That bad?” Thorin questioned.

“The remin-rema…catching up about the ol’ days was fine. They just haven’t grown up much since uni. The last time they ditched me…!”

“Wait!” Thorin interrupted. “They just…ditched you?”

“Not malice-ly. Malice-ly? Mal-cious…”

“Malicious?” Thorin offered.

“Right!” Bilbo cheered. “It wasn’t mean. We just all got a little too drunk…”

“You guys didn’t even have a DD?”

“Hey!” Bilbo finally snapped. "Maybe you need to focus more on your life and less on mine! I happen to do rather well for myself. You drive cars for a living."

Bilbo’s jaw clicked shut at that point. He didn’t want to say that. Why did he say that? The silence was answer enough for Bilbo on where he stood with Thorin at this point. So he wasn’t expecting much as Thorin pulled into the driveway. Bilbo quickly opened the door to get out only to trip and nearly fall on his roses.

The car was turned off as Thorin got out to circle the car. His hand was a firm presence as it gripped his upper arm, hauling him back to a standing position.

“Ya don’ have to do this.” Bilbo grumbled more than a little embarrassed.

“Can’t very well leave you to sleep out here in the garden.” Thorin grunted as he helped him to the door. “What kind of Uber would I be otherwise?”

Bilbo was rightfully ashamed, and immediately tried to stammer out an apology. Thorin waved them off.

“I thought you were a grocer when we first met, so I guess we’re even.”

Bilbo couldn’t even find it in him to be offended as he tried to focus on fitting the key in the hole. However, his fifth slip had Thorin gently taking over. 

“Why did you answer my text?” Bilbo finally blurted overwhelmed by the man’s kindness. “You could have ignored it. You probably should have ignored it.”

“Truth be told,” Thorin answered. “I was actually a bit relieved. I had enjoyed our sessions quite a bit, and wanted to be friends. In fact, my buddies and I meet up for a drink every month, and no one gets ditched…in case you’re interested.”

Bilbo blinked up at Thorin trying to find his blue eyes in the dark. Was he being serious? He wanted to hang out with Bilbo of all people?!

“I…I…I have to throw up now.”

With that, he was racing for the guest loo, making it just in time to empty his stomach in the toilet. Worst. Impression. Ever. When he returned to his living room, Thorin was gone. Which was…expected. He would have been more shocked if the other man hadn’t left. Bilbo went to flop on the couch finding his bed to be too far away when he noticed the pain pills and water on the coffee table. He furrowed his brow at the appearance of said objects when his phone buzzed from his back pocket. It took his tired eyes three attempts to read the message, but once comprehension kicked in, he found himself smiling warmly.

Left some stuff out for you on the table. Text me when you’re not staggeringly drunk. The offer still stands. ;) Goodnight, Bilbo Baggins

[slytherbun]

🌼 fluff with sarah cameron with the prompts, “Mom/Dad, please don’t tell him/her what I said about him/her.” + “Are you my secret admirer, the one that’s been sending me all the flowers and notes?”

** but maybe instead of mom/dad, sarah rants about y/n to rafe (who begrudgingly listens because he’s lowkey invested 😩

— can’t wait for this one!! thank u ily

prom

pairing: sarah cameron x reader

word count: 0.8k

note: this was kinda inspired by one tree hill’s season 4 episode when lucas asks peyton to prom and attempts 👀 to pick her up at her house but instead i had meet them meet at the school. also can we talk about this non-canon brotherly care rafe has for sarah? 🥺 i kinda changed up the convo, hope this is okay! ♡

Ever since Sarah distanced herself from your friend Kie, it was questionable if you should confront her about your feelings.

You’ve had a hopeless crush on the blonde girl for almost a year now and if it weren’t for the brilliant thought of leaving little notes in her locker, she wouldn’t know that you were infatuated with her.

It was also a way of just showing your presence to Sarah. And without the information she needed to know about you and who you were, she wouldn’t be able to push you away like she has with everybody else.

You’ve wanted to tell her who you were for awhile and now that you knew Sarah was going to prom tonight, you wanted to ask her to go with you. But you weren’t sure how to ask her.

Every afternoon after the last class, the Cameron girl went to her locker to put away any unnecessary books that weren’t needed.

And so today in the same fashion, you figured you’d ask Sarah by slipping her a note.

Tonight would be the night that she found out who was leaving her vague love letters.

You excused yourself from class to slip her one more note and after school, Sarah made it home with the same note in hand.

“I know that you’ve wanted to know who I am for a while now. I'd like to give you a chance to find out if you’d like to be my date to prom. Meet me tonight at the school and be by your locker at four-thirty. I hope to see you there, Sweetheart.” The blonde read out loud to her brother Rafe.

“Should I even entertain this? What if it’s all just some big joke and prank?” She questioned while tapping the note on her wrist in contemplation.

Rafe raised a brow. “And if it isn’t? Shouldn’t you give this person a chance to at least tell you why they’ve been leaving these?” He paused, glancing down at the note once more that was open and then added.

“Also have you ever noticed how they capitalize Sweetheart, as if it’s your name? I think it's cute. I hope it’s Y/N.”

She knew he was right and plopped on her bed with a sigh. The prom dress she was wearing tonight was laid out on the bed a few inches away from her.

Sarah was about to start doing her hair until she called in her brother to hype her up after freaking out and hyperventilating about tonight.

“Yeah I’ve noticed.” Sarah chuckled, “Ok fine. But if for some reason this person becomes a constant in my life, please don’t tell them what I said about them. I hope it’s Y/N too but if it’s not her, then I’ll try and give them the benefit of the doubt.”

She glanced up at him with slanted eyes and Rafe nodded, holding out his fist to bump with hers in agreement.

After that, Sarah felt better and got up from her bed to finish getting ready.

𝗔 𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗳 𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆 from when prom started, at four-thirty you stood by her locker with a bouquet and corsage.

You were nervous Sarah wasn’t going to show but she did and was absolutely stunning in her dress.

The Cameron girl wasn’t sure who was going to be there, so she was nervous. But when she opened the doors and saw you standing there she had to look twice.

Were you really standing there?

She knew of you and had two classes with you but never had the courage to speak to you and the fact that you were standing there in a dress and flowers for her, absolutely blew her away.

You gave her a nervous smile that she returned and held out the flowers for her to take.

“Hi.” With a nervous tone you spoke and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Hi, are you my secret admirer, the one that’s been sending me all the flowers and notes?” She murmured and held up the note from earlier today.

“Yes, I hope uh it’s not a disappointment that it’s me.” Playing with the lid of the corsage container, you looked down hoping not to see any discouragement on her face.

Sarah held out her hand for you and you looked up at her, taking it while she spoke. “Of course not. I-I was kinda hoping it was you.”

Your eyes widened at her confession with a red flush starting to creep up your neck, you replied. “Oh, well I’m glad to hear that, Sweetheart.”

She smiled at the pet name you often used in the notes and asked, “So did you want to go in?”

You nodded, releasing her hand to open the container, you showed her the corsage and Sarah held out her wrist.

You glided it up her wrist and her breath hitched at the intimacy of the silent moment.

After you made sure it was going to stay, Sarah interlocked her fingers around yours so you couldn’t pull away.

She smirked at the blush that was now on your cheeks as well and leaned to give you a kiss on the cheek before pulling you towards the doors while you were still processing that her lips touched your cheek.

[someonestolemyshoes]

Hi! Have u done any pregnant Hanji and overprotective daddy Levi already?? Yep i think im craving for more domestic levihan family, im sorry 😭

Im a bit new here in the community, and when i read ur works, i fell in love with it already, thank you for existing!!! 💖💖💖

Hello anon! Thank you so much, I’m so glad you enjoyed my other fics :3 Sorry for the very long wait for this one, I've been struggling to find the time/motivation to write lately, but I'm feeling a little better and I figured I'd get to work on some of my prompts. Starting here!!

It ended up a little less domestic and a touch more angsty than I had originally planned, but only for a moment--happy endings all round! 

Warning: this does start off with non-graphic depictions of nausea/vomiting, I hope that doesn't bother you!

Hange had been feeling unwell for days.

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence—Hange tended to wake up feeling nauseous some days, most often when she'd neglected to eat a decent meal the evening before—but this was the fourth morning in a row now, that Hange found herself bent over the toilet bowl in the early hours of the morning, heaving up nothing but acid and empty air. 

She retched until her stomach ached. There was nothing left to bring up, but her gut still rolled unpleasantly and there was a telling tremor under her tongue that warned her it might be best to stay in the bathroom a little while longer. She settled heavily against the wall to catch her breath.

It didn't make any sense. For most of the day, Hange felt fine. A little tired, maybe, but that was only to be expected after spending half the night every night on the bathroom floor. Tonight, no doubt, would follow the uncomfortably familiar routine: Hange would dry-heave a little longer, until the queasiness abated enough for Levi to convince her to come back to bed, and then she would toss and turn, too warm beneath the bed clothes, until she could fall into a restless sleep. She'd wake up feeling a little groggy, a little bleary, unreasonably hungry, but after a coffee and some breakfast she would feel well again. Perfectly normal.

Like clockwork, Levi appeared in the doorway just as Hange had flopped herself back over the toilet. She felt his palm, cool and soft, press against the back of her neck. Hange gathered her hair back from her face with both hands, braced her elbows on the toilet bowl, letting out a groan of discomfort as her stomach twisted, threatened to revolt again. Levi's thumb rubbed soothingly against her neck.

Sure enough, she brought up nothing more, but she gagged plenty, and found herself gasping for breath by the time she leaned back against Levi, aching and exhausted. His lips pressed into her damp hair.

Levi was as silent as always. His touch was pleasant, his presence welcome. Hange needed the hand he offered to pull her to her feet, needed his reassuring grip at her hips as she brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth out. Her quaking knees felt unstable beneath her. 

He lay facing her after they got into bed. Hange was sprawled out atop the covers, shifting restlessly to find the coolest patches on the bed. Levi watched her for a moment, then said, "This isn't normal."

Hange only grumbled.

"You said you'd book an appointment with the doctor."

Hange grumbled again. Levi ticked his tongue and rolled to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Call tomorrow."

"If I didn't know better," Hange said sluggishly, "I'd say you were worried about me."

He scowled and rolled onto his other side, his back to her now.

"No, just sick of waking up at half four every morning to drag you back to bed."

Hange managed a small, wicked snicker, but shuffled across the space between them and pressed an apologetic kiss to the back of his neck.

"Must be dreadful," she said. Her voice sounded raw, hoarse. She buried her nose into his hair and took a long, deep breath. Levi grunted, but reached back and pulled her arm loosely over his hip. He knotted their fingers together loosely.

"Call them, Hange."

Hange gave his fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"I will."

**

Hange prided herself on being a reasonably intelligent person. She had two degrees, was working towards her doctorate, and already had her name on a small handful of peer-reviewed research papers. She spoke multiple languages, read dissertations for fun, kept a (in Levi’s words) disgustingly realistic human skeleton in a box under the bed for study purposes, and had spent the better part of the last 26 years of her life studying human biology and physiology.  

How she had not predicted that she might be pregnant was almost unfathomable. 

She left the doctors office in a daze with an appointment card and several pamphlets in hand. She had been referred hastily to a midwife and the hospital would soon be sending out a date for an ultrasound—“As soon as possible,” the doctor had said, “since you’re not sure how far along you are.” 

The thing is, Hange had been on the same birth control pill for years now. Forgetful as she may be about many, many things (like eating, and bathing, and washing the dishes and taking out the garbage and and and), Hange was religious in taking that damn pill at the same time every single day. She had never missed it, not even once. Without a regular cycle, Hange had no way of predicting when they had conceived, and the doctor was eager to make sure no essential landmarks in her antenatal care were missed, if they could possibly help it.

The thought had never even crossed her mind. It seemed ridiculous now, in hindsight. The sickness was one thing, but now that she thought about it, there were a whole host of small oddities that Hange could easily attribute to pregnancy. Lethargy, and bloating, heartburn, and she had been peeing more than usual—Hange groaned, and scrubbed her hands over her face. She should have suspected, at least. Should have put the pieces together sooner. 

But, stupid and naive as it may be, she hadn’t thought it possible. Why worry about it, when Hange had taken consistent precautions to avoid it? 

She felt queasy the entire bus ride home. 

It wasn’t that she was against the idea of having children. One day, maybe. When she had finished her doctorate, got herself a steady, well-paid job. When she and Levi had moved out of their tiny, cramped apartment into somewhere bigger, somewhere more suited for a family. 

And god. Levi. 

This was something they’d never really talked about. For his part, Levi never seemed all that interested. He was good with Hange’s nieces and nephews, and Erwin’s son adored him, and he hadn’t showed any express dislike for children, but—well, tolerating other peoples little brats and raising your own are two very different things. 

What if Levi didn’t want the baby? What if he did? Hange wasn’t even sure herself what she wanted to do about the whole situation—what if she didn’t want it? What if, after some reflection, Hange decided now wasn’t a good time? Could they even afford a baby right now? Hange’s money was tied up in her education, while Levi was just making ends meet at the office. They got by well enough with just the two of them, but add in a baby? A whole other person, entirely dependant on them for support? Hange could barely feed and bathe herself, some days, never mind responsibly care for a child. 

By the time the bus pulled up near the house, Hange felt more distressed than ever. Levi, at least, was at work until the evening, so she had a few more hours to herself to mull everything over, but the entire situation made her stomach clench and churn unpleasantly with every new thought. 

The prospect of having a child was terrifying. The prospect of not having this child was nauseating. 

Levi had left the flat in pristine condition when he had left for work, but Hange barely had the energy to feel even a little guilty as she shrugged off her coat and kicked off her shoes, leaving both strewn about the floor. She dumped her bag and made her way sluggishly through to the bedroom. 

Levi had made the bed. The sheet was stretched flat over the mattress, the pillows perfectly fluffed and set against the headboard. Hange’s nightshirt, one of Levi’s old, baggy shirts, too stretched and threadbare for him to wear, had been folded neatly and left on her side of the bed, her slippers lined up smartly with the bed frame. For some reason—hormones, she told herself—her eyes watered, and a lump swelled in her throat. She sniffled pitifully as she stripped off her clothes and pulled on the shirt, clambering into the bed and tugging the sheets until the cocooned around her. 

Hange passed the rest of the day tossing and turning in bed. She tried to nap, but her mind was too restless, occupied with thoughts of the baby, with the concept of having to tell Levi when he came home. She could try to lie, say the doctors had done some blood work, that she was waiting on the results of some test or other, but Levi knew her too well. She could never lie to him, and her despondent state would give her away before she had the chance to say anything. 

The sun was beginning to set by the time she heard Levi’s keys in the door. She felt exhausted, head aching with all the thinking, considering, weighing up her options; with running over every possible outcome she could imagine. Keeping the baby, getting rid of the baby, Levi not wanting the baby, Levi leaving over the baby—every scenario she could imagine was worse than the last. There was only one idea that she had hardly dared entertain, in fear of disappointment if things didn’t work out. 

She heard Levi call out for her, but gave no answer. She listened, curled up in a ball on her side, as he shuffled around, no doubt picking up her coat and shoes from where she had abandoned them. And then he made his way towards the bedroom, steps soft on the plush carpet. The bedroom door creaked open. 

“Hange?” 

She made a small, warbled noise under the bedclothes. Levi came to sit on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His hand found the curve of Hange’s hip. 

“How was it?” 

Hange made another noncommittal sound. She wiped her nose and eyes on the sheets, but didn’t dare show her face just yet. She wasn’t ready. She had never prepared for this conversation, never even imagined it before today. It was too soon. Not enough time to rehearse. 

Levi’s hand moved to her back, rubbing lightly up and down her spine, before dropping to the mattress behind her. He leaned over her, and she felt his lips press warm and gentle to the point of her shoulder. A fresh wave of tears poured over the bridge of her nose and down the side of her face. 

She tried to be quiet, but something—the shake of her shoulder, perhaps, or the shudder of air as she tried to take a steadying breath in—gave way to her crying. Levi moved off the bed, but Hange felt his fingers prying lightly at the sheets, pulling them down until he could get a good look at her face. He was kneeling by the bed now, face level with her, and he looked at her with worry pinching deep creases between his brows. 

“Oi, what’d they say?” 

Hange bit the inside of her lip and rubbed her damp cheek on the pillow. If Levi was bothered by her using their bedding as a tissue, he didn’t show it. He simply looked at her, eyes darting over her face, searching. It occurred to Hange then how this must look to him. She had gone to the doctors due to unexplained, violent sickness, and now she is in bed, hours later, still crying about whatever news she had received. 

“I’m fine,” she said. Levi’s tense shoulders relaxed a fraction, but his face remained pinched, frowning and concerned. Hange wanted to tell him quickly, simply, like ripping off a plaster, but the words would not come. She opened her mouth, but her throat constricted painfully. 

Eventually, she said, “my bag. There’s some stuff in my bag. Have a look.” 

Levi gave her a somewhat quizzical look, but stood, dropping a quick kiss to her temple before going to fetch the bag, and dipping his hand in to fish out the contents inside. 

Hange watched with her breath held and her stomach clenched as Levi pulled out the handful of leaflets and turned them over, looking at each one in turn. His eyes widened fractionally as comprehension dawned on him. His lips pressed into a thin line. Leaden weight settled in Hange’s gut. She curled into a tighter ball, pressing the bedsheets over her mouth and nose, waiting for him to gather himself enough to say something. 

After a moment, he spoke. 

“That’s all?” 

Huh? “Huh?!” 

Hange disentangled her arms from the sheets and sat up, staring at him. Levi moved to sit on the edge of the bed again, a scowl back on his face, though there was an intriguing flush high on his cheeks as he whacked her lightly on the top of the head with the leaflets. 

“Stupid four-eyes,” he said, exasperated. “Crying like that. I thought you were dying.”  

“I’m pregnant.” Hange said the word slowly, carefully, in case Levi had somehow misunderstood. He had the audacity to look at her like she was stupid.

“I can see that.” 

“And you have nothing more to say about it? That’s all?” 

Levi shrugged a little at her. Aside from the small patches of colour in his cheeks, Levi seemed wholly unfazed by the revelation. 

“It’s just a baby. We can handle a baby.” 

“That doesn’t terrify you?” 

Levi scrutinised her for a moment, before he said, “are you scared?” 

“Yes? Yes! How are you so calm? We can’t afford a baby—we don’t have the time for a baby? Where will they going to sleep? We don’t have a spare room. Can we get time off work to take care of a baby? How will we pay for childcare when we can’t be around?” 

“Hange,” Levi said, putting a stop to her rambling. He watched her with a pinched stare. “Do you not want it?” 

Hange had spent the majority of the day mulling over this same question. Staring a family was a huge, life-changing commitment, something that required  careful forethought and planning. They had not had that luxury. Hange was pregnant now. She had doubts and fears, more than she could ever express, but the idea of simply having a baby—of having this baby—wasn’t upsetting. In the small, brief moments she had allowed herself to imagine a future where she and Levi were parents, where they weren’t wanting for money or time, where things were well, she felt happy. Giddy. The prospect was almost exciting. 

“It’s not that,” Hange said earnestly. “I do—I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I—I do want it. But I just—we had no time to prepare. We have no savings, we have no space, I’m a mess. How are we supposed to take care of a tiny person? Babies are hard work, Levi.”

“You’re already hard work.” 

Hange laughed weakly, and wiped at her face again. Levi pressed a kiss to her raw cheek. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he said.

Hange leaned into him, sighing quietly. 

“Is this the kind of thing we can just figure out?” 

Levi hummed, shrugging his shoulder. His fingers skimmed up beneath Hange’s shirt, splaying over the small of her back and pulling her closer. 

“Why not? We’ve done a good job bullshitting our way through everything else.”  

Hange laughed lightly and bumped the side of her head against Levi’s.  

“This is different, Levi. This is a person. A tiny little person who is going to need me and you to do everything for them. What if we can’t do it? What if we mess up?” 

“Hange.” Levi pulled back a little and his hands came up to grip either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. “Stop. I know all that. But if you want the brat, and I want the brat, we’ve got no choice but to get on with it.” 

“I know, I know, but—wait, you want the baby?” 

Levi maintained eye contact with her, but it seemed to take a concentrated effort to do so. The flush of his cheeks deepened a little and his lips quirked at the corners. No doubt to compensate for the show of emotion, he pulled his face into his customary frown. 

“It’s fine,” he said. Hange fought the urge to roll her eyes and caught his hands as he lowered them from her face, pulling them into her lap. 

“Are you saying that because it’s already too late, or do you want to keep it?” 

Levi’s face took on a look of constipated strain. He curled his lip as though in distaste, then hooked a hand around the back of Hange’s neck and pulled her face to his abruptly, smacking a kiss to her lips. He let his forehead settle against hers and stroked his thumb over the hinge of her jaw. 

He fought to keep his tone neutral, but Hange could hear the happy tremor in his voice as he said again, “It’s fine.”

For the first time since hearing the news that day, Hange allowed herself to feel excited. To accept the idea that she and Levi were about to start their own bizarre little family. That Levi was still with her felt incredible enough, but to know that he was pleased—it was more than she could ever have hoped for. Hange gave a wet laugh and kissed him again. 

“Are you allergic to looking happy?” Hange asked as they broke apart. Levi clicked his tongue and pulled back to flick her square between the eyebrows. She laughed a little louder and leaned to wipe her runny nose on his shoulder. Levi muttered under his breath, but didn’t push her away.  

“Okay,” Hange said, after a moment. She sat back and pushed her hair back from her face. “Okay. We’re having a baby, then.” 

Levi’s rubbed the smile from his lips with the back of his hand, nodding. “We’re having a baby.” 

Hange sunk down to flop back over the pillows. Levi looked down at her, head tilted, chewing the inside of his lip. Hange reached up to brush his fringe off his forehead, warmth spilling in her chest when he held her hand close and turned to kiss her palm. 

She smiled a little playfully, and freed a leg from the sheets to dig her toes into his ribs. 

“If I’d known you wanted kids I would have been significantly less stressed, you know.” 

Levi quirked a brow at her. 

“I’ve told you that before.” 

“No, you haven’t.” 

“I have. At your sisters wedding.” 

Hange racked her brain, searching for the conversation. She remembered the occasion, and she remembered that she and Levi had somehow ended up babysitting Hange’s family brood. She remembered Levi, wrestling to keep her youngest nephew on his lap while the eldest, still only five or six at the time, was clambering up the back of his chair, sticky hands tugging at Levi’s collar. Hange fought hard to recall more of what was said, but could remember nothing at all of Levi announcing that he had wanted one of his own. 

“You said these brats aren’t so bad,” Hange said slowly. 

Levi nodded at her. Hange waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t, only looked at her like there was nothing more he needed to say. 

“That’s it? That’s your idea of telling me you want kids?” 

“The hell else could I have meant?” 

Hange dug her toe at him again but Levi caught her foot this time, pushing it firmly down onto the mattress. Hange reached for him with both arms instead, curling them around the back of his neck and tugging him down quickly. He toppled over her with a quiet oof, and Hange rolled them quickly, straddling his waist and dropping her weight down onto him. 

“That is the kind of thing you say clearly, Levi! These brats aren’t so bad—you’re ridiculous!” 

Levi wrestled with her arms a little longer before giving up and bringing his hands instead to rest low on her hips. He watched her with a curious expression on his face, something open and soft, and then his eyes roved down to her abdomen and his thumbs brushed inwards, beneath the hem of her shirt, stroking over her lower belly. 

This time, he didn’t fight his smile. 

He reached up and pulled her down by the neck, and kissed her soundly. Hange melted against him, welcomed the press of his tongue between her lips, shuddered pleasantly when he nipped at her bottom lip. She went with him willingly as he rolled them both over, nudging a knee between her legs and settling his weight against her. 

She was spreading her legs to make space for him, when he paused suddenly, and pulled back, leaning over the bed and scooping through the discarded back of leaflets. Hange, winded and dishevelled, watched him incredulously as he flicked through the contents of one, then tossed it aside and opened another. 

“What are you doing?” 

Without looking up, Levi replied, “Checking.” 

“Checking what?” 

“I wanna know if we can still—” he waved a hand between them, and went back to searching. 

“We’ve been—” Hange mimicked his gesture, “—up until now anyway.” 

Levi looked up at her, looking mildly horrified. He held up one his open leaflet and said, “You’ve been drinking alcohol, too. You’re not supposed to do that. And look, here—you’re not supposed to overwork. You’ll have to take on less hours at the university. And you’ll eat. Proper damn meals. Every day.” 

Hange flopped back against the pillows, eyes rolling, watching as Levi picked up each new leaflet in turn, pointing out every little adjustment that Hange would have to make. 

“This one says you should get eight to ten hours sleep per night. Every night. And not so much coffee, the caffeine’s bad for the baby.” 

The baby. It sounded surreal. It sounded ridiculous. Levi shifted to sit against the headboard beside her after opening the chunky little What to Expect While Expecting volume Hange had been handed while leaving the doctors. He seemed thoroughly engrossed, and seemingly unaware when one of his hands reached out to pull Hange’s hair free of its ponytail and sink into her hair. She hummed happily as his nails scraped over her scalp. 

Things were still scary, and Hange was still uncertain about how this whole adventure might turn out. But Levi was still with her, and Levi was happy, and that—

—Well, that was good enough.