#still not happy with it :'D but i am beyond exhausted now. so...

[yakny]

A SPRING DREAM

[gumnut-logic]

Hello! I'm wondering what happens when Alex finds out Virgil plays the piano?

Sweetapple Piano

Alexander Sweetapple Series | Alexander Sweetapple and the Volcanic Island

Apologies for the delay in answering this lovely ask. This is part of Alexander Sweetapple and the Volcanic Island, but because we are writing it out of order, I'm thinking probably chapter four.

Also, it is all fluff, complete fluff. Virg is a maestro and Alex is the fanboy.

This is m/m romance, so if that isn't your thing, this isn't the fic for you. The very beginning was posted yesterday as a WIP Wednesday (actually on Wednesday for once), so it may look familiar, but there is plenty more. I am soooo happy to be writing again.

Many thanks to the wonderful @onereyofstarlight and @womble1 for the readthroughs and amazing support. And I big thanks to those of you who continue to support our engineering geeky fanboy OC. Oh, and special thanks to @sailing-on-a-puddle for both asking this question in the first place and for writing her Glitter fic which sparked me to write more of Alex and Virg :D You guys spoil me rotten and I'm truly blessed to be part of the amazing Thunderfam ::hugs everybody and squishes for all::

I hope you enjoy the fic.

-o-o-o-

Virgil and Mrs Tracy set Alex and his mum up in two of the guest rooms in the Tracy villa that second night on Tracy Island.

It was an early one after a massive day and Alex was exhausted. Virgil kept him company, but it was obvious the rescue operative…his rescue operative…was also exhausted.

Regardless, it appeared they didn’t want to separate from one another. Virgil escorted him to his room, an amazingly spacious apartment with a view to die for, but instead of leaving, ended up sitting on the couch beside him just talking.

About anything and everything.

Sure, they had Siliwrap to discuss - it was their default topic, after all and a means to spend time together for so long. But now things were different, more open, with more possibilities.

Alex couldn’t help himself. He watched every movement of Virgil’s facial expression. His smile, his arched eyebrow, his concern, his lips…

His hands, which so often he found holding one or more of his. He should be alarmed. This was Virgil Tracy after all, Alex’s hero worship was a thing. But it seemed Virgil was just as attached to him. Ever so polite, always checking to make sure Alex was okay, and with a hesitancy that proved that this was as new to Virgil as it was to Alex.

And just as cherished.

But exhausted they were and both Mrs Tracy and and Alex’s mum checked up on them and mothered them enough to make sure they went to bed.

It was stupid to have his mother, now hopping around on crutches, tucking him into bed. He should be looking after her, not the other way around. But her smile and her kiss to his forehead, reminiscent of young nights now so long ago, it was obvious she had been as scared and as worried as he.

Yet, out of horror and disaster, Alex’s world had changed so much, and as she brushed hair off his forehead, with the murmurs of Virgil and Mrs Tracy in the rooms beyond, all he could feel was love.

“Love you, mum.” His voice was little more than a whisper.

She smiled down at him. “Thank you, Allie, for today.” She placed a quick shushing finger across his lips. “Sleep, honey, you need it. We can talk tomorrow.”

A brush of a finger to his cheek. “Sleep well, Allie.” Again with that all-seeing and amused smile, she turned and hobbled out of his room, shutting the door behind her.

He should be looking after her.

But the thought was overtaken by the exhaustion in every cell he possessed, and despite everything, he fell asleep before he could worry any more.

Which let to this morning.

The sun was bright in tropical latitudes and the morning early. He slept soundly and rose with less of the headache from yesterday. There were still protests from various parts of his body, but he felt energised, as if the sun was injecting energy directly into his system.

He padded down stairs in bare feet, dressed only in a borrowed t-shirt and long pyjama bottoms. He suspected he owed John Tracy a new wardrobe.

One aspect of the Tracy villa was accessibility. There were stairs, yes, but for each stairwell there was an accompanying lift. There was engineering in the design he couldn’t help but admire. The building was glued to the volcanic rock face, but used the rock in ways that maximised it as a building material, and the mechanical infrastructure meshed into it just as smoothly.

Whoever designed it was a bloody genius.

Finding himself staring at one of the lifts nested into basalt, he shook himself. Okay, Alex, you’re a fanboy. Stop with the catatonia. You’re amongst…Tracys. Genius was likely the norm.

Of course, that was the moment his feet landed on the hardwood of the main comms room and music floated into the stairwell.

Piano music.

He frowned. He had noted the grand piano the previous day, but with a day of so many other thoughts, he hadn’t questioned it.

Alex stopped just behind the wall that curved and supported all the portraits of the family. The music was lovely. Light and melodious, just floating gently on the air with happiness.

He shook himself. No coffee, day after a disaster that could have killed him, somehow that had him waxing poetic.

But the moment he stepped into the room and discovered who was playing the piano like a siren, he understood why.

It was Virgil. Of course it was Virgil. Dressed in a grey t-shirt and blue jeans, the man was lost in his music. His eyes were closed and he was just playing.

Realising he hadn’t been noticed, Alex crept forward, thankful for his bare feet, and sat down quietly on the floor, legs dangling over the edge of the sunken lounge. He watched those gorgeous hands dancing over the black and white keys, the shift of Virgil’s body as his weight moved with the music.

Alex had to admit that he had a thing for piano music. Mostly because his sister, Janie played, and played a lot. Janie had moved to Sydney, Australia, to further her musical studies (and possibly a fellow Aussie soloist who had more than caught her eye - his mother still liked to stir her about it every now and again). Alex did miss the sound of her playing. It had been a background to his homework and engineering studies for a good part of his learning years.

And this? It wasn’t enough that Virgil was a brilliant engineer, but also a pianist of calibre. Alex could understand that much. Janie came with many a recital and Alex had learnt good from not so good simply by osmosis.

And Virgil was good. Very good.

But then, he was a Tracy.

Alex’s fanboy heart fluttered.

But the man who had been kissed, just yesterday, so, so thoroughly? His heart swelled with just so…much.

The music suddenly stopped. “Alex?” Virgil was standing up from the piano.

Alex held up a hand. “No, no. Sit down.” Virgil’s eyes widened a little, but he obeyed and sat back down as Alex scrambled to his own feet and padded over. “That was beautiful.” He wanted to place his hand on Virgil’s shoulder but couldn’t work out if that was an okay thing, or where to place his hands really at all.

Virgil overrode everything by wrapping a strong arm around him and drawing him close. “Good morning.” He drew Alex down for a gentle kiss.

Oh.

That was never going to lose its thrill.

Alex found himself sitting on the piano seat beside Virgil, very much ignoring the piano completely.

No, definitely never going to lose its thrill.

Coming up for breath. “Hey, good morning to you, too.”

That brought a grin to Virgil’s face followed by a chuckle that was obviously in reaction to whatever was on Alex’s face.

But the grin eventually shifted to a gentle smile with enquiring and medically scanning eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty bloody good.”

Virgil snickered, and was that a blush?

Oh, god.

Alex swallowed and attempted to straighten himself out into something socially acceptable. “So, you play?”

Virgil blinked as if he had forgotten he was seated in front of the piano. “Oh, um, yeah.”

“That was amazing.” At Virgil’s arched eyebrow. “Your music, I mean.”

Virgil’s lips twisted into a lop-sided smile. “Thanks.”

“What were you playing?”

“Nothing in particular. Just felt like a bit of piano.”

“That was improvised?”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah.”

Alex stared at him a moment longer. “Bloody amazing.”

And there was that gentle blush again.

Alex’s arm tightened around Virgil’s waist, drawing the big man closer until their temples touched. “I’m sorry. You’re just…” Amazing? Unbelievable? Beautiful? “…you.”

Another snort of laughter and they were kissing again.

Alex could so get used to this.

“Oh, god, my eyes!”

Alex felt rather than saw Virgil roll his eyes and their kiss suddenly changed to something far more performative.

Alex followed his lead and there were hands and wow, this was…his mind blanked.

There was another gasp of horror and disgust followed by stomping feet on stairs that disappeared into the distance. A plaintive ‘Grandma!’ was muffled by the house.

Virgil broke off the kiss. “Sorry, brothers.” His smile turned into a grin and Alex found himself giggling with him. They were like a pair of school boys into mischief.

“Which one was that?” By process of elimination, there was only a possibility of two…though the thought of Mr Scott Tracy’s reaction had Alex’s stomach roiling with a mixture of excitement and down right terror.

“That was Allie.” Virgil blinked at Alex. “Alan.”

Alex just smiled at him. “Play for me?”

A stare full of thought behind those gorgeous dark eyes. “Okay.”

Virgil turned towards the keys and Alex shifted enough to give him room, letting his hands free. “Any requests?”

“What ever you like.”

Another glance at Alex, before Virgil’s fingers touched the keys and notes filled the air.

Alex breathed in as music wafted up from the strings deep inside the barrel of the instrument, sent by the brilliant man beside him.

He let the breath out ever so slowly.

So bloody amazing.

-o-o-o-

[chill-vibes-but-rainbow-panic]

I am mega late, but

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY (AGAIN) TO MY FIRST EVER TUMBLR MUTUAL @labratgurlz :D

I was going to draw smth, but slow-dancing was a bit too ambitious, so I decided to do, what I always do, when I can't draw something

~Write~

So here's a short-ish Plargos fic

cw: some murderous/violent intentions/thoughts

If you had Mr. Plant write a list of things he'd rather be doing right now, he would finally have something to pass the time, and you could expect it in your mailbox by sunrise. It's hard for him to even imagine whose bright idea it was to hold an auction on a Wednesday night. The only reason he even knew the event was happening, was because no news broadcast in this part of the void would shut up about it, no matter how many times he switched the channel.

…And, because Argos very excitedly brought one of the flyers back home with him… Apparently, they were going to auction a particularly interesting plant; one that is not easy to come by, because it only grows out of a freshly buried lung. He had been saving up for months just to go and compete in the auction, and, of course, asked Mr. Plant to accompany him. So now - despite his hatred of social gatherings - he is sitting in this high school gym looking big room, while his boyfriend is yelling over the rest of the bidders.

Most of the people around him are dressed very proper, pearl necklaces, waxed leather shoes, and all that goes with them. When Mr. Plant turns his annoyed face out of his hand for a moment, he can see that even Argos' outfit fits; though the blazer-pants-combo is almost identical in colour to the outfit he usually wears anyway. It suits him. Mr. Plant himself put on the usual. Well, he threw on a tie that he still had in the back of his closet somewhere, but he couldn't have been asked for anything else. It's either uncomfortable situation or uncomfortable clothes, you can't have both.

"YESSS!" He is almost jostled out of his seat, his petals fully unfurling as any exhaustion or boredom runs out of his body, like a wild boar. The room around erupts into applause for the first time Mr. Plant has cared enough to pay attention in the last few hours. And when he looks up at Argos, he sees a delighted shine in every single one of his eyes, as he has stood up from his chair and is stretching his arms beyond the heavens. "WE DID IT, MR. PLANT!", he jumps up at down, a smile on his face so big it almost splits it in half.

The auction-leader brings down her gavel a few times, causing the audience to steadily quiet down. "Thank you, for your attendance, everyone! All of our winners will have their objects handed out to them before you leave.", a bell-headed lady speaks from the stage, a quiet gong heard with every small movement.

Mr. Plant does not like the sound of that at all. Are they not leaving now? "I hope you will all be having fun at the party we have organized for you. The staff will be leading you to the event-hall." …Ah.

Despite the crowd immediately forming a wave to sweep both in the direction of the party, Argos has no problems picking up on his boyfriend's mood, as soon as his initial excitement calms down just a little bit. He gently takes the flower's hand, redirection his attention back to a stable point. "Hey, this could be fun, right? After all, I'm here with you.", he gently squeezes his hand, his voice piercing through the noisy crowd, to Mr. Plant. He squeezes his hand back, letting himself be whisked away.

The party-hall appears to be a second, even larger gym, only now making Mr. Plant realize how much smaller this place looked from outside. The crowd quickly disperses around the room; mostly towards the buffet, like ants might a spilled soda. However, Argos only pulls Mr. Plant into the room just enough to not block the door, before he suddenly stops and stares into the air.

Mr. Plant tries to wave to him a couple of times, but he stays stiff as a statue, starstruck. "Hm?", he only turns towards his boyfriend, when he taps him on the shoulder. "Oh! Sorry.", he chuckles. "I was just kinda caught by the music. Has a nice ambience, don't you think?" Immediately, Argos starts tapping the beat of the music with his foot, one finger also tapping rhythmically onto Mr. Plant's hand. It is slow, deep, but predictable, like a still beating heart letting life and blood flow through the room.

He is surprised to see an entire small orchestra performing on the stage at the far end of the room. The frog behind the cello appears to be building the foundation of this piece, clearly audible, despite how many violins, clarinets, and flutes outnumber him. Each musician is dressed to the nines; a bow tie adorning their necks, and lovingly decorated flute lyres wrapped around one arm of each flute player, and most of the clarinets.

"Do you want to dance, Mr. Plant?" Before he can even think clearly, he pulls his hand out of Argos' grasp. His heart beats suddenly painful inside of his chest. He looks back to the stage - still as tranquil as before - wishing he could dissect that musician with his own stick, like a biology teacher.

"We don't have to! Of course.", Argos backtracks, pulling his hands up to his chest and smiling. He knows how Mr. Plant can get with these sorts of things; and he would never want to make him uncomfortable. Instead, he starts looking towards the table with the food, though it's hard to see anything with all of the people standing around.

Still, Mr. Plant can see it. The atmosphere is perfect. A perfectly silent room, except for its almost whimsical music; people already gathered to dance around them. He might pretend to not look at it, but Mr. Plant can see the chandeliers glisten in the eyes on Argos' checks, gazing up at them. Argos, that godforsaken, irritating, beautiful, perfect, hopeless romantic would never let an opportunity like this pass him up.

So Mr. Plant sighs, a barely visible smirk in his heart, and reaches one hand out to his boyfriend. He lights up at the sight. "Are you sure?", he double-checks, but as soon as the flower gives so much as a hint of a nod, Argos pulls hims further onto the dance floor.

Mr. Plant towers over Argos, or, any other guest present, yet he lets himself be manhandled by the other, who definitely has more experience in these things than him. He gently lays the arm underneath the green sweater on top of his own, with Mr. Plant laying the other onto - and almost around - Argos' back. "Don't worry", Argos prepares for the first steps, "I promise it is much easier than it looks."

He takes a step forward. Mr. Plant takes a step backwards, though more out of surprise. Then they both take a step to the side. Now Argos steps back and Mr. Plant goes forwards. Then another step to the side.

Hm. This…is actually much easier than he had thought. The first few attempts are not perfect by any means, but it doesn't take Mr. Plant long to get into the rhythm of the dance, not even having to think about each individual step anymore. He looks down at his feet, seemingly moving on their own, smiling a little proudly at himself.

Something thumps against his chest. His sight is obstructed by Argos' head resting on his chest , one petal softly grazing the side of his face. Mr. Plant has to move the arm he held on his back, closing the two of them further together, until he can feel every breath in Argos' chest lifting against him. Both of them keep dancing like nothing happened, perfect harmony between their steps.

Mr. Plant feels like there are a thousand eyes staring down at him, as if a massive spotlight had caused the crowd around to focus on him; the light causing his body to heat up rapidly. He wants to make them disappear. Maybe their sticky blood covering the floor could help stabilize his ever so slightly shaky legs. Maybe he could force all of them to look away, burying their eyes somewhere in the back garden of the event-hall he's trapped in.

Or; maybe it's just his boyfriend's face.

Mr. Plant doesn't think much, before he lays his head on top of Argo's hair, briefly tickling him in the face and causing a barely suppressed chuckle to come up from under him. The flower jokingly scoffs, lightly swinging side to side.

The music seems to be playing forever. The room becomes more and more empty, before everyone but them leaves his mind. Mr. Plant closes his eyes; and it is dark and warm, like a beautiful summer night.

Perhaps, his list of things he'd rather be doing just got a little shorter. Just a bit.

[middleearthpixie]

Seven Days ~ Chapter Eighteen

Seven Days -  Modern Tolkien AU

Firefighter Frerin Durin died in a fire set deliberately. But after he helps his brother, Thorin find happiness, Frerin is offered a second chance. He has to prove himself worthy by righting the one major wrong in his life. Otherwise, history will repeat and he will die for good this time. The catch? He has seven days in which to do this and isn’t even certain what his major wrong is.

At least, he doesn’t know for long. 

Syd Prescott has known Frerin since high school. She spent one night with him and then he vanished from her life. Now, he claims he wants to make it up to her, to right was he realizes was his major wrong. But can she trust him? And can he prove to her that she can before it’s too late? 

A/N - This story is the sequel to Miss Fortune, but is a stand alone story. 

Summary: The fire’s aftermath has Syd pacing the hospital hallway, wondering if Frerin will regain consciousness…

Pairing: Modern!Frerin x OFC Syd Prescott

Characters: Frerin, Syd, Thorin, Alex, Nico

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,611

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If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

December 9th & 10th

Friday Night/Saturday Morning

Syd tried not to panic as she lay on a narrow stretcher, slowly breathing the sweetest, most beautiful air ever. She tried to remain calm as she waited for Frerin to be brought out. All she knew what that one of the biggest men she’d ever seen emerged from the smoke like an avenging angel to scoop her up. The strange woman Frerin had been yelling at simply vanished and that was all Syd remembered until she opened her eyes on the gurney. 

Then she heard the clatter of wheels on pavement and sat up to see EMTs wheeling Frerin her way. She jumped up, ignoring the shout of the paramedic, the sting in her arm from moving the IV catheter, nearly hanging herself in the tubing carrying the very oxygen that cleared the smoke from her lungs. She clawed at the mask over her mouth and nose, shoving it up and off her head.

“Take this out now,” she said to the medic, pointing at the IV.

“Miss… we need to run in that until it’s finished.”

“Take it out now,” Syd growled, “or I’ll do it myself.”

“Miss Pres—”

“I mean it. Now.”

The medic removed the IV and gave her a cotton ball to hold against the site and she ignored everything but the need to see Frerin. 

He was pale and still, His sweat-dampened hair poking up in all directions, his face smudged with soot, an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Her throat seized, her eyes stung. “You big jerk,” she managed to choke, slipping her hand beneath his, “why didn't you keep that fucking mask on? Why?”

She squeezed his hand, hoping he’d squeeze back. 

But his hand remained limp in hers. 

Pressing her lips together in a foolish attempt to keep them from quivering, her eyes flooding with tears she didn't bother to hold back, she crouched beside him. “Open your eyes, Frerin. Please? You have to be okay because… because you just have to, okay? I know you were telling me the truth. And I’m so sorry I blew up the way I did. I should’ve known better. I know there is more beyond this world. I know it. It’s my family’s business. If anyone should believe you, it’s me. And I am such a fucking idiot for not believing you.”

She reached down to smooth his spiky dark hair away from his soot-streaked forehead. “And you did not sacrifice yourself for me, do you hear me, Frerin Durin? You’d better get your ass back to this plane, back to this side of that fucking veil because I love you and I want to introduce you to everyone as the boyfriend and I don't care how seventh-grade it sounds.”

The winds picked up and snow fell yet again and she started when the burly firefighter who’d pulled them both out draped Frerin’s turnout coat about her shoulders. “I’ll give you a ride to the hospital, Syd.”

She looked up. “How—how do you know my name?”

“He spent all week talking about you.” He smiled, his dark eyes warm. “I’m Nico and I doubt he’s mentioned me, but he couldn’t shut up about you.”

She pressed her lips together once more and smiled down at Frerin. She swallowed hard, waiting until she trusted herself to speak, before she managed to whisper, “You better not have told them everything.”

“Nah. You don’t have to worry. He left all the good stuff out. That’s how I know it’s serious, when Frer keeps the details to himself.” Nico caught her by the elbow. “Come on.”

“No. I mean, thank you for the offer, but I—I have my sister’s car. It’s at the far end of the lot. I’ll just follow him.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I’m—uh—I’m going to call my sister. She’ll meet me at the hospital.” She looked up at him and managed a smile. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I wasn’t leaving either of you behind.” He smiled. “I’m going to ride with him to the ER then.”

“Keep an eye on him for me? And stay with him until I get there?”

“Of course. They’ll have to forcibly pull me away from him.”

Syd bobbed her head and dug Alex’s keys from her pocket. Thank God they were there and not in her purse, because her purse was now a melted blob of leather and plastic and cell phone.

Wait.. how was she going to let Alex know what happened unless there was a pay phone in the hospital lobby, and she couldn’t remember if there was or not. 

She turned to ask Nico, but he was already climbing into the ambulance after Frerin had been loaded in, and the paramedic slammed the doors before she could say anything.

“Fuck,” she muttered, thinking about all the information stored on the phone alone. Thank God she’d backed it up only last week. She wouldn’t lose too much. Small favors and all.

Her hands shook so badly, it took her three tries to get the key in the ignition and all of her will to keep the Jeep straight on the road as the ambulances all pulled out, sirens screaming, and took off toward Cranford Falls Medical Center.

Syd hated hospitals. Ever since the night of the accident on the Parkway, when she and her sisters met up with Gram at the ER in Toms River to receive the worst news of her life that her mom and dad had been killed in a car accident on the Garden State Parkway.

Now, she paced the sterile corridor, coughing every now and again but otherwise all right. She had no idea what was going on with Frerin and seeing as how she was only possibly his girlfriend, no one was giving her any information. She had no idea how many laps she’d taken when Thorin and Alex appeared around the corner, hurrying toward her.

She stared. “H-how did you know?”

Thorin’s expression was the most serious she’d ever seen. “Nico Zarelli called me.”

Thank you, Nico.

“Syd?” Alex broke through her reverie. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m just… Frerin’s still being treated and no one will tell me anything.” Syd all but fell into Alex’s arms, her eyes stinging and her throat tight. “He gave me his mask, Lex. That jackass made me take his mask.”

“What?” Thorin asked, shaking his head. “He knows better.”

“I couldn’t breathe and I couldn't fool him. I tried to give it back, but he wouldn’t take it.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised,” Thorin said, leaning against the wall with a low sigh. “Was he at least conscious when they brought him out?”

She shook her head slowly. “No. He was unresponsive.”

“Oh, Syd…” Alex tightened her arms about her.

“I know… he wasn’t lying to me, Lex. He wasn’t.”

Thorin raked a hand through his hair. “He wanted to tell you, Syd. He was scared to.”

“I know. And I gave him every reason to be scared. I did just what he thought I would.”

“He understood, though. Because of what happened last summer.” 

“Wait,” Alex pulled back, “what happened last summer? I thought you just went out with him the one time?”

“I slept with him, Lex. And he never called the next day. Never called, never dropped by the shop. He just vanished on me.”

“You slept with him last summer and I’m only now finding out about it?”

“I thought you knew!”

“How would I know?”

“Teddy!”

“You told her and not me?”

“I thought you already knew!”

“How would I know?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Thorin broke in sharply, rolling his eyes, “can you not right here?”

Both Alex and Syd stared at him and Alex said, “You sound like Charlie, Thorin. What’s that about?”

“You’re all rubbing off on me.” Thorin rubbed his forehead. “Look, argue about gossiping over my kid brother’s sex life another time, okay? Preferably when I’m not around.”

Syd pulled away from Alex and rubbed her forehead slowly. “I’m sorry. I’m just… I don't know what’s going on and no one will tell me. Thorin, could you maybe find out?”

“Let me see what I can do.” He pushed away from the wall and made his way over to the nurse’s station. She had no idea what he said, but a few minutes later, Syd was in a small, curtained off area where Frerin lay, still and quiet, hooked up to an EKG, an IV, and an oxygen cannula as well. All she knew was he was still alive and they couldn't figure out why he was still so unresponsive.

She dragged a wood-and-orange vinyl chair to his bedside and sank into it, slipping her hand into his. “Frerin? If you can hear me, can you squeeze my hand back?”

Nothing.

A sigh bubbled to her lips, but she held it back, tracing her thumb lightly along the side his. His hand was warm, so that was a good sign. “The nurse thought you could maybe hear me. And I hope you can, although I have to admit, I’d rather see the look in your eyes when I tell you I love you, because I think you’d make a perfect deer in the headlights. But, since your eyes aren’t open…

“It’s almost Saturday, Frerin. Another forty minutes and this will all just, hopefully, be a bad memory. The fire, I mean. And my overreaction. But everything else is good. Parts of it are very good. And you did it. You made it eight days. And you’re still here. And now I guess I have to plan a thirtieth birthday party for you because if you think I’m letting that milestone go unnoticed, especially after this week, you’re crazy.”

A hint of pressure tightened against her hand and her heart skipped a beat so hard, it almost hurt. “Frerin?”

He remained silent and still. 

She lifted his hand, clasping it in both of hers and as she brought it to her lips, his index finger moved. Brushed her ever so gently. 

“Frerin?”

His fingers all moved that time, tightening about hers and then he coughed, and croaked, “Syd?”

Her eyes stung anew, her lips began trembling again, but her heart soared above the heavens as she nodded (which was silly, as his eyes were still closed) and whispered back, “It’s me.”

“I’m not dead?”

“Not unless I am, too, and I’m pretty sure I’m not.”

“Thank God…” He swallowed with a wince. “Damn… my throat’s sore…” 

“You breathed in a lot of smoke,” she replied softly, her vision blurring as she brushed his hair away from his forehead. She looked over at the small pitcher and cup on the bedside table. “Do you want some water?”

“No, I’ll be all right in a minute or two.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Linens rustled as he turned his head. His eyelids rose slowly, his eyes more gray than blue and very sleepy, and a tired smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Christ, Syd, you are so fucking beautiful,  you know that? You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Her eyes stung even more fiercely now as she rose from the chair and moved closer to gaze down at him. “You are such a liar.”

“I’m not. You’ve been hot since I was fourteen.” His smile widened and he even winked at her. Then, he broke into coughing fit, but as she reached for the call button, he caught her by the wrist and cleared his throat. “I’m okay. Just my lungs are a little clogged, is all.”

“Are you sure? Warehouse fires, remember?”

“Never know what you’re breathing in.”

“You are such a jerk, taking off your mask. You know better.”

“I do, but I didn't care. You weren’t breathing. I had to fix that.”

“Frerin.”

“What? I did.”

“You’re insane, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Yeah. More than once, actually. Hey,” a slow smile lifted the corners of his lips, “did I ever tell you about the time you walked by my desk in Spanish class and your perfume made me hard?”

“Frerin!”

“It’s true. I was terrified Senesky would call on me to go up to the board. How would I explain popping a boner in her class? I’d have never lived that down.”

“That’s terrible.”

“It really was. Girls have no idea.”

“Frerin…”

“What? You don’t.” His smile faded and his eyes grew serious. “I love you, Syd.”

She didn't say anything at first. She couldn’t. Her throat seized up to trap the words and held them fast. But, as she gently stroked his hair, she managed to whisper, “I love you, too, you know.”

His eyes widened, some of the sleepiness fading. “Syd?”

“I do, Frerin. And I’m so sorry I blew up the way I did.”

“No,” he shook his head slowly, “you don't have to be sorry. It sounded insane. I’d have thought I was crazy as well.”

“Frerin, I—“

“Wait.” He shifted slight to his left, then patted the bed. “Come here.”

“Frerin.”

“Live dangerously, honey.”

She smiled and looked about before kicking off her shoes and carefully climbed up to stretch out alongside him. Her eyes stung all over again as he slid his arm about her shoulders and tugged her closer still.

She dissolved then, sobbing into his chest even as he tightened that arm and whispered, “Shhh… it’s okay, honey. I’m going to be fine. I swear, I’m going to be fine.”

“Why did you take off your mask?”

“You needed it more than I did.”

“Frerin.”

“It’s true. I was okay with dying if it meant you wouldn’t.”

“Frerin, don't ever—”

“I’ll always put your safety over my own. Don't you get that, Syd? It’s what I do. Especially when it comes to you.”

“Are you going to get in trouble?”

“I don't know. Maybe. Probably. But I don't care. It was worth it. If it means I get suspended for a couple days or a week or a month, I’ll take it.”

She sniffed, swiping at her eyes with her sleeve. “It was a foolish thing to do.”

“I don't care.” He pressed a kiss into the top of her head. “If I had to do it again, I would. And why were you even there anyway?”

“Meeting with a book vendor over an invoice problem. But the weird thing is, when I got there, the guy didn't remember moving our meeting. He figured his secretary must’ve gotten the time or date wrong but I know I spoke to him, so who knows? And when the fire alarms started going off, he got up from his chair, told me to wait right where I was, and that he’d be back, but he never came back. He just left me there. And, oh my god, I had no idea how quickly smoke could fill up a space.”

He sighed softly. “Syd—”

She looked up at him. “I wasn't afraid when I saw you, though. I knew it’d be okay.”

His arm tightened about her, much like it had that first night they were together, when he’d held her as if he was afraid something would snatch her from him. She carefully draped her arm about his waist and gave him a gentle squeeze. “I knew I’d be okay,” she told him.

He coughed again, but not nearly as hard as he’d done in the building. She lay there quietly, curled against him, her head on his chest, and let her eyes close.

“Frer?”

Frerin smiled as Thorin poked his head around the curtain. “Hey, T. I made it.”

Thorin didn't say anything, but bent over and wrapped Frerin in a bear hug so tight, Frerin wouldn’t have been surprised if his spine cracked in half. “I’m okay, T. Really. And don’t worry, Syd’s going to take care of me.”

“I don't doubt that for a minute.” Thorin stepped back and Frerin didn't miss how shiny his eyes were. “I was a little worried there for a bit. Taking your mask off? You know better.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I do. But I didn't care. She wasn’t breathing, so she needed it more than I did. That’s what I cared about.”

“She’s not back yet?”

“No. She had to go down to the firehouse and retrieve my Jeep. I just hope no one is giving her a hard time about it.”

“Is Zarelli on?”

“Yeah. I’m supposed to be on, too, but I’m on the bench for the next week. Chief came by to tell me so himself. And I’m okay with that. I’ve got plans for this week and they do not involve leaving my house if possible.”

Thorin grinned. “Sounds like my kind of plan, Frer.”

“Right? Just me and Syd and my dog. That’s all I want.” He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. He wished Syd would get there already. He just wanted to go home and shower and brush his teeth. 

“Well, we won’t bother you at all, but you might want to give Ma a call.”

“I’ll do one better. I’m going to go see them. And I’m bringing Syd home to meet them. They won’t know what hit them. Especially if she’s wearing a diamond when I do it.”

“You’re seriously going to ask her? After a week?”

“How weird could it possibly be after everything that’s happened this week, T?” He grinned, shaking his head. “It would be the sanest thing that’s happened to me.”

“Good point.” 

The curtain rustled and Frerin smiled as Syd poked her head around it. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Not at all.” Thorin stepped back. “I’ll see you in a couple days, Frer. Get some rest. I mean it.”

“Yeah. I will. Eventually.”

“Frerin!”

He rose from the bed, grinning at Syd’s gasp. “What? If you think you’re getting out of makeup sex, you’re insane, woman. I had a whole night planned the other night and that went to hell, so you owe me.”

She arched one brow. “I owe you?”

“Oh, yeah. Ow!” He burst out laughing as she swung the small overnight bag of clothes he’d asked her to bring for him and hit him in the gut. “Easy. I almost died yesterday saving your ass, honey.”

“Frerin.”

“What?”

“Frerin!”

“I did.”

“I know.” Her eyes darkened. “Don't remind me.”

“I’m fine now, honey. See?” He flexed his left biceps. “Poke that. Like a rock.”

“So’s your head.”

“Oh, that hurts. I put your safety before my own and that’s the thanks I get?”

“Frerin.”

Mindful of the draft on his bare ass thanks to the hospital gown that refused to stay tied, he nonetheless wrapped her in his arms, lifted her easily, and swung her about the curtained area, giving a free show to everyone at the nurses’ station. “I love you, Syd. And like I said, I’d do it all over again and I wouldn’t do it any differently.”

She sighed softly, catching his face in her hands. “I don't want to ever do that again, Frerin. Not ever.”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me. I’ve already mooned half the people in this ER, so why not?”

She bent to him and as their lips met, everyone at the nurses’ station broke into applause. And in that moment, Frerin broke the kiss to whisper, “Will you marry me, Syd?”

“You didn't answer me, you know.”

Syd looked over the Jeep’s hood at him. “Frerin, were you honestly asking me?”

“If I said I was, what would your answer be?” He leaned against the hood, ignoring the cold of the parking garage as it seeped into his bones. He was beyond exhausted, but at the same time, it was a bright, sunny day, he was alive, and had no reason to dread any of the coming days now. He had Syd. He had his dog. He had his health (no thanks to his idiocy, according to Chief Pratt, who promptly told him to take the next week off and think about what he’d done.)

She smiled. “Seven days, Frerin. We’ve been together a whole seven days.”

“I know. But we’ve known each other for sixteen years. And besides, the sex alone would be worth it.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Of course I am. I run into burning buildings for a living. I’d have to be crazy to do that, don't you think?” He winked. “And that’s not an answer.”

“Frerin.”

“I knew it. You’re waiting for a ring, right? You’ll get one, honey. Don’t worry. I have the next seven days to find the perfect one.”

“I don't need a ring, Frerin.”

“So, is that a yes?”

“Are you really asking me?”

“We could do this all day, you know.”

“I know.”

“And that’s why we’re good together.”

“Frerin.”

He winked. “I like hearing you say my name, honey.”

She rolled her eyes at that. “You really are nuts.”

“Pretty sure we just had this same conversation.”

“And I’m pretty sure we’re going to have it a lot more often.”

“Probably.” He tapped both hands against the hood and as she moved to grab the door handle, he said, “Hey, Syd?”

“Yes?”

“Tell me you love me again.”

“Frerin.”

“I love you.”

Her slow smile did something funny to his insides. Warmed his blood. Sent it south. He couldn’t wait to get her home. Her eyes were almost blue today, sparkling as she met his gaze and said, “I love you, too, Frerin.”

“Damn straight you do, honey.”

[againtodreaming]

hiii :3 for the 3 things ask game hehe (it's nice that you found this in my blog again, i tried to find it but couldn't lmao ;-;)

3 things you are the most passionate about

3 topics you’d love to learn more about

3 quotes that have a special place in your life

Hiii Johnny!! :D Tysm for the asks <33

@vinylbiohazard you also asked this one: 

3 things you are the most passionate about:

idk like, fiction-fandoms-writing-art like all that storytelling emotion stuff?

learning

family/friends

3 topics you’d love to learn more about

History

Literature

Anthropology

3 quotes that have a special place in your life:

Edit: WHY DID U ASK ME THIS?!? 😭 You are going to kill me but anyways—:

Edit #2: ………ended up deciding to go big or go home during the last quarter of my time spent on this response so ahh…beware? ┐('～`;)┌ (^◇^；) 

…okay so I tried to pick a few but I can’t, okay? 🥲 I’m indecisive and my quotes would feel so betrayed if I picked one over the other one so I’ll just break the rules and put…every quote that came to mind (and then I had to look them up bc I only got a few of them completely memorized): 

Nakahara Chūya:

“When I consider, it's easy. / In the end it's a question of will. / I must muddle through. / As long as I do that, it's all right, // I think but nonetheless, / that winter evening when I was twelve. / The steam whistle that echoed / in the sky above the port, where is it now?” Innocent Song

“O song of the skies, song of the sea, / I think I now understand the essence of beauty, / Even so, it’s tough, I can’t escape this idleness!” Exhaustion

“I am not completely quiet in the midst of that desolation. / I am seeking something, always seeking something / in the midst of this terrible immobility, but also terribly impatient. / For the sake of this, my appetites and lusts are as nothing.” The Voice of Life (this one is translated by Paul Mackintosh and Maki Sugiyama and there is also a version of this in the latest Ry Beville translation but I read this one first and I like better how it flows so yep, went with this translation) (...I really need to learn Japanese to read the original sobs) (if it wasn't so long, I would also add part III of The Voice of Life here) (...and some other parts…a lot of parts…these poems are just so good, okay? 😭💖)

“O eyes of mine, wide open with doubt, / O eyes, momentarily unmoving while wide open, / O heart, trusting too much beyond my self, / O expectation of mine, you old, dark air, / Be gone from me, be gone! / I entertain myself with nothing but my meager dreams” – Poem of the Sheep (I memorized this one with another translation but this is from the bilingual edition/new translations by Ry Beville book so yeah, chose this translation for now)

“Today, though, I return to who I am / Like a stretched rubber band released // And thus, from the window of this idleness / I spread out my index finger like a folding fan, // Inhale blue skies      imbibe the calm / And like a frog afloat on water // I see the stars of night come night / O    depths of sky, the depths of sky.” Exhaustion (I have several faves in Exhaustion but yeah, I would say these 2 are the ones I like most? …okay, only the ones I had mostly memorized bc every line is amazing) (also memorized the earlier translation but this is the one in the new translations book so–)

…can't resist, last one, promise, this one is also from The Voice of Life: “No matter what, it is indescribable! / Sometimes I want to explain it briefly, but / since it’s inexplicable, indescribable, I believe my life is worth living. / That’s reality! Unsullied happiness! Anything anyhow is good!” (honestly, just this entire poem)

(Spring Day’s Caprice is also amazing, doesn’t rank as high as the poems I mentioned above but still, the only reason I’m not adding it here too is bc I can’t pick a verse without feeling I’m doing it a complete injustice bc it’s…like you need to read it whole. Like, the same goes for the other poems but this one is like…it feels too much like a united progression to be able to take a quote away, it would feel like taking the meaning away ig?)

Alice in Wonderland: 

“I knew who I was this morning, but I've changed a few times since then.” (stuck with me when I first read when I was like 10 or 11 maybe and and even more relatable now)

“That's just the trouble with me, I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it.” (this one echoes in my head every time I don’t follow my own advice 😅)

Dazai Osamu:  BSD: 

“But your anguish isn’t yours alone. What should one do, when what they want to be isn’t what they’re best at? Everyone fights, searching for the correct way to live their lives. What do they seek by fighting? How ought they live? No one can say. All we have is the right to waver. Like stray dogs that have hit rock bottom.” (gave me hope and some direction)

Schoolgirl (blaming @yumaisbored—hope u don't mind the tag 😅—for it becoming a favorite look how many quotes I copied here and I highlighted a lot more bc there was just so much, this one stabbed me straight through the heart and I LOVE LOVE LOVE IT o(*>ω<*)o) (most of these ones are too long to have memorized and I haven’t read this a million times like I’ve done with my favorite Nakahara’s poems but I remembered the gist of each one and just had to look up my highlighted in orange parts) (this story has no right to be so relatable): 

“The truth is that I secretly love what seems to be my own individuality, and I hope I always will, but fully embodying it is another matter. I always want everyone to think I am a good girl.” 

“Let me be natural, let me be genuine."

“I didn't know whether it was better to maintain a fierce distinction between yourself and your acquaintances in society in order to deal with and respond properly to things in a pleasant manner, or rather never to hide yourself, to remain true to yourself always, even if they say bad things about you.”

“My face was like that of a stranger. An animated face, liberated from my own sadness and pain and seemingly disconnected from such feelings.”

“I felt like trying to cry. I held my breath for a good while, in order to make my eyes bloodshot, and I thought I might be able to squeeze out a tear, but it was no good. Maybe I've turned into an impassive girl.”

“There I go again—pondering the purposelessness of my day-to-day life, wishing I had more ambition, and lamenting all the contradictions in myself—when I know it's just sentimental nonsense. All I'm doing is indulging myself, trying to console myself.”

“I envy such a rigorously efficient and disciplined daily existence. It must be easier to relax when someone always told you who you are and what to do. For instance, right now, if I wanted to do nothing, then I could just do nothing. My circumstances are such that I could be as bad as I wanted, but then again, if I felt like studying, I could study for as many hours on end as I liked. If someone were to give me a particular limit to abide by—to start here and use this much effort and finish there—you have no idea how much it would assuage my mind. I think I rather would appreciate a certain amount of constraint. I read in a book somewhere that soldiers in battle at the front had only one desire, to sleep soundly, and while on one hand I feel sorry for those soldiers, I am also terribly envious of them. To break free from this vexatious and awful never-ending cycle, this flood of outrageous thoughts, and to long for nothing more than simply to sleep—how clean, how pure, the mere thought of it is exhilarating. If someday I could live a military life, and be disciplined harshly, then I just might be capable of being a self-contained, beautiful daughter.”

“In my heart, I worry about Mother and want to be a good daughter, but my words and actions are nothing more than that of a spoiled child. And lately, there hasn't been a single redeeming quality about this childlike me. Only impurity and shamefulness. I go about saying how pained and tormented, how lonely and sad I feel, but what do I really mean by that? If I were to speak the truth, I would die. While I am perfectly aware of what I should do, I can't even utter the words. All I do is feel wretched, and in the end I fly into a rage—I mean, really, it's as if I were crazy.”

“I'm sorry, I formed the words softly. I only ever think of myself, I thought, I let myself be coddled by her to my heart's content, and then take such a reckless attitude with her. I can't begin to imagine how hurtful or painful it must be for her, instead I always avoid thinking about it.”

“Nobody in the world understood our suffering. In time, when we became adults, we might look back on this pain and loneliness as a funny thing, perfectly ordinary, but—but how were we expected to get by, to get through this interminable period of time until that point when we were adults? There was no one to teach us how. Was there nothing to do but leave us alone, like we had the measles? But people died from the measles, or went blind. [...] But if those people were to think about it from our perspective, and see how we had tried to endure despite how terribly painful it all was, and how we had even tried to listen carefully, as hard as we could, to what the world might have to say, they would see that, in the end, the same bland lessons were always being repeated over and over, you know, well, merely to appease us.” 

["You said you wanted summer shoes, so I looked for some while I was in Shibuya today. Shoes have gotten expensive, too, haven't they."

"It's okay, I don't really want them anymore."

"But don't you need them?"

"I guess so."]

Extra: 

No Longer Human: “The weak fear happiness itself. They can harm themselves on cotton wool. Sometimes they are wounded even by happiness”

Fyodor Dostoevsky, White Nights:

“at this moment a thousand valves have opened in my head, and I must let myself flow in a river of words, or I shall choke” “allow me, Nastenka, to tell my story in the third person, for one feels awfully ashamed to tell it in the first person” “I was already regretting that I had gone so far, that I had unnecessarily described what had long been simmering in my heart” “Because it begins to seem to me at such times that I am incapable of beginning a life in real life, because it has seemed to me that I have lost all touch, all instinct for the actual, the real; because at last I have cursed myself; because after my fantastic nights I have moments of returning sobriety, which are awful!” “And one asks oneself where are one's dreams. And one shakes one's head and says how rapidly the years fly by! And again one asks oneself what has one done with one's years. Where have you buried your best days? Have you lived or not?” “But how fine joy and happiness makes any one! How brimming over with love the heart is! One seems longing to pour out one's whole heart; one wants everything to be gay, everything to be laughing. And how infectious that joy is!” (I was actually only looking for the ones in red but I passed through the other ones while I was looking for them and like…i mean, what was i supposed to do?!? Leave them behind?!? …okay probably but like look at them!! How could I?!)

“You'll never know if you can fly unless you take the risk of falling.” – Dick Grayson, The Secret Origin of Nightwing

…okay, the entire lyrics of Hourglass by Set It Off but if I had to pick a verse…oof, okay, your fault, you asked and there are just so many good lines and I can’t decide so umm, yep, I already have like 1 and a half pages of quotes so who cares at this point, right? (why did u ask me this 😭😭😭) (edit: now it's like 3 pages and smth ashdjdjsndjsj) (i'm doing the quotes part in google docs) so here is practically half the song: 

How did we get so jaded? I don't know / Was it the white lies feeding our egos? / I never valued minutes I burned through / Is that just how it goes? / Seconds I wasted, I was fixated / You're devastated, sorry to say / I can't fix it, is this where I give in? // I'm falling through the hourglass / And I don't think I'll ever make it back / So I throw stones at walls I'll never climb / Victim to the sands of time / Falling through the hourglass, the hourglass // Time is strange, it's ever flowing, never going back / It moves but only in one way / Turn the page, look back at what you wrote / Do you still feel the same? / I'll bet your mind has changed

[witch-hazels-musings]

Could you do some headcanons about Kaeya and Diluc with an s/o who really wants to dance with them (whether it be at a festival, party, at home, etc.) Also? I seriously respect the hell out of you for writing while working an 8-5 as someone who has to work a 9-5 and feels like i doesn’t even have time to shower at night. ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡ I hope you’re doing well! Please continue to grace us with your lovely presence!

I finished it!! Thank you for waiting for me! I hope you like it :D 

^ expanded the request a bit --- I also don’t know how Kaeya’s got to be so long - so an extra special gift from me to you 

warnings -> sfw, reader is pestered by some ppl, jealous characters :) 

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Kaeya, Diluc, Childe, Albedo

Kaeya

When Kaeya asked you to be his partner to one of the largest events in all of Mondstadt, you were beyond excited - this was an opportunity you had been waiting for - you’d always wanted to dance with him, and this was the perfect opportunity to do so 

You did your best to get ready, not knowing if this or that outfit would be better to wear, and the anxiety of having to meet him at the event hall was weighing on you 

“Y/N!” You turned your head for the thousandth time, so many voices had called out to you the moment you descended the stairs, their eyes as powerfully overwhelming as their voices. Luckily, this voice was someone you were relieved to see. Amber gripped onto your hands and pushed herself between you and the many bodies standing just a bit too close. “You look incredible! I’ve only ever seen you in your adventure clothes.” 

“Haha, I couldn’t come to a ball dressed like that, could I?” You glanced down at your attire, it had taken you a long time to decide what to wear and even though you settled on this, and were getting compliment after complement, you only cared about one person's opinion. Where was he? 

“Well, you look incredible!” She gripped your wrist and pulled you along, shouting at people who refused to get out of the way, her peppy voice breaking through all the many others calling for your attention. It was strange to be the center of attention. You’d seen so many of these faces around town and they didn’t seem to notice you then, so why all the affection now? It made you feel self-conscious. 

When you were finally away from the sea of eager eyes, you took a deep breath. The new, less crowded space letting in relief to ease your nerves. 

You looked at Amber and smiled at her, she always seemed to know how to bring you just what you needed, her kindness knew no bounds and you were we happy to have a friend like her. “Have you been here long?” You asked her.

“Pretty much, I’ve been helping plan this event for a while. I’m happy for it to be over honestly, who knew planning something like this was so exhausting.” 

“Ha, maybe that’s why Diluc always has a sour expression on his face. Too many events.” 

“You’re probably right! Ah, can you imagine stern Diluc planning a party? I’d die.” She laughed and the cheery vibrations seeped into your weary skin, your nerves made it easier for you to have an emotional reaction and with her disposition you found yourself laughing with her. 

“So,” you looked out over the dance floor, noticing the tables full of food and drink, people standing in small circles chatting and laughing away. “Who else made it tonight?” 

“Oh, are you looking for someone in particular?” She tilted her head and smiled at your flustered state. 

“N-no … what … shut-up.” You frowned and looked away from her. 

“I think you’ll see him soon, he had something to do but it won’t take him all night.” She must have noticed your disappointment because in an instant she made the decision to get you something to eat and stuck to your side until you had a more natural smile on your face. 

Any excuse to be close to you he is all for, it doesn’t matter what the occasion is, he will find a way to hold you, touch you - he just cannot get enough of you 

When he invited you to the Favonious ball, he knew you’d quickly take up his offer and join him, there wasn’t a question in his mind that you would deny it 

He had several things to prepare for and was frustrated that he couldn’t bring you to the event himself, but he knew you’d show up and once you did he’d have all night to spend with you - that was if he could make his way through the barrage of people who were flocking to you as soon as you stepped through the door 

He stepped through the hallway, his footsteps echoing off the walls as he made his way toward the ballroom. Lisa had given him a few ‘last minute’ wardrobe adjustments, and while she cooed over how handsome he looked, he hated how tight the suit was around his neck. He pushed his finger between the collar of his dress shirt and pulled at it. 

As he turned the corner, he could already hear the sounds of the party drifting up toward him. He hoped it wasn’t too late, his work had kept him longer than he wished and it was well past the time that you said you’d be there. He was frustrated and eager to see your face. 

The light from the ballroom washed over him as he stepped onto the balcony. There were still plenty of people enjoying themselves below but he only cared about one. His eyes scanned the crowd, heart filling with dread as he failed again and again at finding you among them. Then he saw you, your back leaning against one of the pillars, your arms crossed around your chest, eyes looking at the outrider who seemed to be holding you in a lively conversation. 

He smiled and quickly made his way down the steps, his hands slipping into his pockets as he did so. 

People were engaged in discussions, which normally he would be interested in as these were great opportunities to gather information, but his focus was on something much more important. 

“I’m going to ask them…” A voice caught his attention so he slowed his pace. 

“Don’t even bother, they haven’t danced with anyone the whole night. They’ve just been talking with that brunette for hours.” 

“I’m pretty persistent; I know how to win someone over.” Kaeya looked at them, his gaze lingering for a moment before catching you in the same place you had been. He watched as they made their way toward you and the stab in his chest pulled at the back of his mind. Quickly, he unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, the freedom of it spurring him on as he pushed his way toward you. 

-- 

“Hey, I couldn’t help but notice you haven’t danced with anyone here. I know, you’ve just been waiting for me to ask you all night.” The man smiled at you, but there was something unsettling about the way he did it. 

“No thank you, I’m not interested.” 

“Come on, it’ll be fun. You won’t regret it.” You were getting irritated at this point, not only had he interrupted your conversation with Amber, but he wasn’t the only person to ignore your first no. 

“Again, I’m not interested.” You turned away from him hoping that if you didn’t look he’d just walk away. 

He placed his hand against the pillar and leaned in closer to you and you were about to show him how strong your disinterest was when you heard a familiar voice.

“How rude of me to keep you waiting for so long, I came as soon as I could.” You looked behind the man and saw Kaeya standing there in formal attire, his beauty seemed to know no limits - frustrating. 

“Kaeya!” You stood, disregarding everything and flashing him the brightest smile you could. 

“Am I too late for a dance?” He held out his hand to you and without hesitation you took it. He led you to the dance floor leaving behind a confused, dejected suitor and excited Amber in your wake. 

He spun you around as soon as you reached the dance floor, a hand resting on your hip and the other holding your hand. “You look stunning, did you get dressed up all for my sake?” He looked down at you and his smile made your legs weak. 

“Maybe … don’t let it go to your head.” 

“Too late.” He laughed and you forgot how much you missed him. It didn’t matter how long you waited, for him, you would wait an eternity. 

“I heard a rumor about you.” 

“What rumor?” You looked up at him and caught the mischief in his eyes. 

“That you haven’t danced with a single person here, is that true?” 

“... It is … I only …” You looked down at his chest before continuing. “I only wanted to dance with you.” 

His hands squeezed around your hip and you felt him pull you closer, “How lucky am I. Sorry I made you wait.” 

“No! You don’t have to apologize.” Your head shoots up to meet him, your voice a bit louder than you planned, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Well let’s give them all a show, shall we? I mean, I have to make sure they know they’ll never stand a chance.” The two of you spend the rest of the night together, the jealousy of all those who wished they were Kaeya apparent as they started to fade away the longer the two of you held one another. Kaeya couldn’t be happier, he was completely fine with them dropping all hope of being yours - that space was for him and him alone. 

Diluc

You were having a great time enjoying the festivities. Practically everyone had been invited to the winery to celebrate the coming of the new season, it was one of the most popular events that could happen 

The two of you had been catching each other here and there, but with how busy he was taking care of everything, and how popular you were becoming as a dance partner or at least an interested dance partner, the two of you continued to drift past the other

Diluc was getting more and more irritated as the evening went on. There were so many things distracting him from where he desperately wanted to be. Instead of being at your side, he was busy hosting conversation after conversation with potential business partners, dealing with the drunkards who couldn’t seem to keep a responsible handle on their booze, and drifting between staff to make sure they had what they needed. 

Reasons like these were why he typically avoided hosting events, but it was always fruitful and he needed to keep old connections and build new ones. Still, when he had a second and his eyes drifted through the crowd to find you, he felt the heat rise in his chest as he watched you dancing in the arms of someone other than him. He wasn’t mad at you of course, he was frustrated with himself that he allowed others to touch you, you were just too kind - a trait he loved, but one that also pulled at his heart. 

“They are incredible.” He heard someone share with their friend. Glancing up from his work he saw just who they were in discussion about. 

“I wonder if they are seeing anyone?”

“I haven’t heard anything …Hey, If you don’t go for it, I will!” They laughed and while he couldn’t tell if their intentions held any weight, he hated that the idea was even present in their minds. Again, it was on him that people didn’t know you were seeing one another. The two of you looked like good friends with the way you respected his boundaries, and his reservation at being expressive with his affections for you. He clenched his jaw before walking away. 

--- 

Your legs were starting to ache from the amount of activity you were requesting of them. So many people had asked you to dance, and you didn’t want to be rude, as a guest of Diluc’s you wanted to make sure to be as kind and thoughtful as you could. However, with the amount of energy you were expending on everyone else you were starting to feel the effects of it all. So when several more, slightly persistent, patrons came to ask you to dance, you found yourself leaning to decline. 

“Excuse me,” they began, “If you would be so kind, I’d love to have the next dance with you.” You looked up at them and saw their nervous smile. It hurt to reject them, but you desperately wanted a break. 

“Thank you, but I’m going to have to respectfully decline.” You nodded your head and noticed there were other eager dance partners standing behind them. “I need to rest a bit, everyone has been so lively, and I’m running out of stamina.” You laugh in an attempt to make your rejection more lighthearted. 

“If you don’t want to dance, we can do something else!” They sat down next to you, their arms perched on the table, body leaning in way to close. They began to ask you questions, which was fine until they started to get more and more personal. You did your best to answer them, but when they asked the next question it was a challenge to get them to accept your response. 

“Everyone is dying to know,” another asked, you turned your head to them and waited, “are you seeing anyone?” 

You averted your gaze before responding, “Yes. I am.” 

“What!?” | “There is no way?” Their voices hit you at once and the loudness of their shouting drew eyes from other party-goers. They badgered you for a bit, all asking different questions at the same time, making it hard to hear them all. One stuck out and when they spoke the group got quiet. 

“I’ve never seen you with anyone.” You looked at them, their arms crossed and lips turned into a frown. “You’re pulling our legs.” 

“No, I really am seeing someone.” 

“I don’t believe it, you're just using that as an excuse.” Their words made you angry. You didn’t own them anything and you were being plenty kind, and, that kindness, was starting to grow thin. “Tell us who it is and then we will believe you.” They placed their hand on the table and looked directly into your eyes. You were about to answer them when you were interrupted by the person himself. 

“Y/N.” He spoke and the voices around the table died down, you looked at him and felt unbelievable relief. 

“Diluc.” You stood and walked toward him, his hand open for you, a gesture you were surprised by. Carefully, you placed your hand in his and scratched the side of your head. 

He looked at you, his eyes heavy on your skin. “Sorry I’ve been so busy.” 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind waiting.” His thumb rubbed the back of your hand, there was no way people couldn’t notice how much that affected you. 

“Hey! What’s going on … are the two of you …?” The person stood up and placed their hands on their hips. Their shouting drew the eyes of others again and everyone at the table stilled as they waited for a response. 

“Yes, and I ask that you don’t cause them any trouble; I won’t tolerate it.” His tone had a hint of a threat and it made your chest tight. There was a shockwave of disbelief that ran through the crowd, and the whispering made your ears burn. Diluc looked at you and you looked back, “Shall we?” 

“Mhm.” 

You followed after him, his broad shoulders a sight you never got tired of seeing and when the two of you held each other in movement to the music, you knew there would be no secret to your relationship now. Diluc made that clear from his words to his actions, and as the music began to fade and the sun dipped below the cliffs, he bravely showed his feelings for you as his lips touched your cheek. 

Childe 

He’d be all about showing you off to others - he wants to make it clear that you and he are an item no matter where you were

You went with him back to his home-town. It was a long trip, but so worth it to be with him, to see where he grew up. It took a while to get used to the chilly weather, and in fact you had to layer up extra carefully in order to bear the cold

His family had prepared for him a welcome party and had practically invited everyone they could to celebrate his return. Even if they knew it was only temporary, as his membership with the Fatui often kept him on the move, still, it was nice to feel so loved and welcomed with such a joyous event. 

They also knew he would be bringing someone special back with him. It was a demand which plastered every letter he received from his siblings. He knew if he didn’t bring you along there would be a reception colder than the snow that never melted. 

Of course, the two of you arrived hours before the start of the celebration. This gave his siblings and other family plenty of time to introduce themselves to you. They asked you question after question and when it was finally time to get ready for the party, you noticed how rough your voice had become. You definitely knew that Childe was a member of this family, he too knew how to wear out your voice. 

Childe changed clothes quickly, it had been so long since he wore those clothes from this region. As he looked in the mirror, the way the outfit rested snuggly against him, it made him even more nostalgic than he already was. He was waiting out in the large living room, his mind playing out memories of his childhood in this house when a sound caught his attention. 

His younger siblings giggled and shouted in excitement and as he turned to see what was all the fuss he felt the air in his lungs leave him. You were dressed in a traditional style outfit, your hair styled to fit your attire, hands fussing with the clothes you weren’t used to wearing. When you looked up at him and smiled shyly he felt an incredible urge to lock you behind closed doors and not let anyone lay their eyes on you. 

You walked toward him, ignoring the loudness of his siblings, “They said this would be okay … Do I … look alright?” 

“You look incredible.” 

“Thank you.” You drop your head, looking at your hands and he desperately wants to pull your face back to him, but is interrupted before he gets the chance. 

“Let’s go already, big brother!” Teucer shouts, already standing at the door. 

“Shall we?” Childe extends his elbow to you and you take it. 

---

He had been watching you dance with the members of his family for a while, and while it moved his heart to see you laughing and doing your best to learn the moves, he wanted to hold you in his arms himself. He wanted you, to have you experience his traditions first hand through him. So, when he couldn’t handle it any longer, he finally asked you to dance. 

“You all have been keeping them so busy … I’m going to steal them back now.” He exclaimed, barging into the game you had been playing with his younger siblings. 

“That’s not fair! You’ve been able to keep them to yourself for so long. We want to play more.” 

“You can after I’ve had my fun, let’s go.” He pulled you away and their cries sounded as you drifted further from them. 

“I was winning!” You exclaimed, laughing as he pulled you behind him.

“It’s my turn to have your attention.” He turned and pulled you close to him. You could feel his energy through his fingertips, it was familiar, like the time he saw you talking to that stranger in one of the bars of Liyue. 

“Childe, you can’t seriously be jealous of your family.” 

“You don’t know me at all, do you.” He spun you around and when you realized you were out on the dance floor you knew you were in trouble. 

“I’m not very good at this yet.” You try to explain to him but it falls on deaf ears. 

“I’ll teach you, just follow my lead.” He nodded to the musicians and they began to warm up, their music drowning out the chatter. Quickly, he leaned down and kissed your forehead before offering some last minute encouragement, “Let me show them all how spectacular you are.” 

He loved every second of this. The way your feet stumbled over his as he moved with you across the dance floor, the way your face flashed through different expressions: joy, concern, embarrassment, confidence. He couldn’t get enough of you, there was never enough of you. How was he ever going to be satiated with you around, especially when you were embracing his home, his family with such unbound acceptance. 

He wanted to swallow you up, he wanted to lock you to him for the rest of time, and the more you let him take, the stronger his desire became. 

As the music drifted into its final crescendo he lifted you in his arms and spun you around. There were countless couples surrounding you, all shouting and cheering on the excitement that rippled from the center of the dance floor. When he stopped and you slid a bit down his chest, your shoulders at the height of his chin, hands gripping tightly on his shoulders and face dipping down to him with a smile that told him everything he ever needed to know about you, he let the words fall from his mouth, finally being as honest as he ever had been. 

“I love you.” 

Albedo

Albedo wasn’t too fond of parties and get-togethers, it was a lot of energy to expend on the discussions or interactions which he’d much prefer to stay clear of, at least if he can get away with it. Still, he had promised to make an appearance, and when he saw you he was much more inclined to stay

He loved to watch you have a great time, you were so independent, doing things whenever you felt like it and experiencing life as it happened. Unless it was explicitly told to others, most wouldn’t have any idea that the two of you were seeing each other. Most of the time that wasn’t a problem, as your busy schedules kept you distracted, but as he watched you mingle with the citizens and partake in the festivities, and how you drew the attention of interested eyes, he was starting to get jealous

These sorts of festivals drew in travelers from all over Teyvat. Most of them only blew in with the wind while others stayed longer after the final banner was removed. It was something that almost everyone in Mondstadt took part in, even those who often didn’t get out much -- and he was one of them. 

Albedo made his way through the streets greeting citizens as he passed by, a quick nod or hello here and there. It was Sucrose who had encouraged him to take a break, reminding him that he was likely to see you down in the festivities. So, he put away his work for the day and headed out of the research labs toward the cheering below. 

When he saw it was like the sun shined on his face for the first time in days. He felt so warm and was eager to reach you. As he got closer, he couldn’t help but notice the many faces that were turned to you. It was strange but he tried not to let that oddity hender him in any way. That’s when he started to hear the conversation you were having with someone, the closeness of them to you, and the way they didn’t seem to leave you alone.

It wasn’t like him, either, to let his emotions get the better of him, but having to listen and watch others take notice of you, something inside of him grew and he wanted to make sure they knew their hands would never reach yours.

--

“Hey.” A man walked up to you and injected himself in the conversation you were having. You stopped what you were doing and glanced at him, curious. “Would you be interested in dancing with me?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m not much of a dancer.” You smiled at him and tried to let him down easy. In fact you’d love to dance, but only if it was with a particular person, and he didn’t seem to be around at the moment.

“It’s okay if you aren’t, I’m happy to teach you some moves.” He took a step closer and his first impression of friendliness was slipping into pushiness. 

You started to tap your fingers against your leg, the motion becoming more intense the closer he got. “Really, I’m not a good dancer, you’ll find more luck with someone else.” 

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He reached for your hand but was blocked by another. When you looked at the owner and saw it was Albedo, your stomach flipped. 

“Albedo?” You turned to him, a smile on your face and relief in your voice. 

“Excuse me, but I believe they said they weren’t interested?” 

“... ha, what are you their boyfriend?” They laughed and continued talking, “Listen, why don’t you let …” 

“Yes, I am.” Albedo interjected, cutting the person off. 

“What?” 

“We are together.” They looked confused, their eyes moving back between yours and Albedo’s. Albedo looked down at you and noticed the expression on your face, “Is that not the right way to describe our relationship?”

“No! I mean, yes, that’s right.” You looked at the person and gestured to Albedo, “This is my boyfriend, I’m his … we’re together, yes.” You nodded your head way too many times, but the point seemed to get across to them anyway. They left in a huff and you watched them leave before standing and turning to Albedo. 

It was the first time the two of you had ever really said those words out loud - of course you knew in your minds that you were a couple … but to say the term which let the outside world know of your relationship, well it was so exciting 

You felt your face get hot as you remembered how factually he had spoken, how quickly he answered their question. You couldn’t help but pat your face and pinch your cheeks 

After that, the two of you wandered through the festival, eating delicious food, participating in the activities, laughing and having interesting discussions, as you always did 

When night started to drift over the event and only a few people remind in the city center, you found yourself back in the place where your time together started, music drifting through the air 

You had such an incredible day. There were times the two of you were so busy that you would go days without seeing one another, so to spend an entire afternoon together was like a gift. 

“Today was incredible.” You express, the excitement and joy from the day making you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth. 

“I can tell you had a good day.” Albedo replies, smiling at you. 

“Oh, really?” 

“Yeah, you click your tongue like that when you’re happy … sometimes when you’re focused.” 

“Ah, really! I’ve never noticed.” 

“I think it’s cute.” He stepped closer and grabbed your hand, his grip soft and gentle. “So I know you don’t like to … I was wondering … would you like to dance with me?” 

“Yes!” You answered much quicker than he expected, your voice startling him a little. You covered your mouth and laughed, your eyes squinting. 

“Let’s go.” You took his hand and walked until the space felt right. Albedo let go of you before turning to look at you. With an elegant bow he requested your hand once again, you returned the gesture, not wanting to be rude and also trying your best to not scream with excitement. The music swelled and your bodies moved closer, his hands wrapping around your back while yours draped over his shoulders. You rested your head against his chest and let the wonderful day drift into a wonderful night, you and Albedo sharing in a moment with one another. No worries, no interruptions, just one another swaying to the sweet mixture of music and distant conversations. 

“I’m glad you could make it today.” 

“Me too.”

[boldlyvoid]

Of Quartz I Will

Amethyst You So Much✨ Part 2: Of Quartz I Will

Summary: after 2 years of dating, Spencer decides it's finally time to get Y/N something to match her Amethyst bracelet.

Warnings: fluff, gun violence, shooting tw, Reid's season 5 knee injury, hurt/comfort, emotional smut, body massage, hand jobs, riding, penetrative sex.

word count: 6K

Spencer notices her as she walks in, through the briefing room window, she’s wearing his purple shirt. He wanted to wear that for work today but couldn’t find it anywhere, now he knows why.

“Excuse me,” he says to his group of teammates as they contribute reading case files.

“Hey,” Spencer grabs her attention from the railing beside the briefing room. “I’ve been looking for that shirt everywhere.”

“It’s mine now,” she smiles, setting her things down at her desk for the night. “I’ll buy you a new purple dress shirt.”

“Buy yourself one, I like that one,” he whines.

“Finders keepers, doctor Reid. Either stop leaving your shit on my bedroom floor or move in already.”

Everyone hears it. All eyes are on them as they bicker in the middle of the bullpen, including the team of profilers just beyond the window.

“Okay,” he agrees. “We’ll talk about this later.”

She climbs the stairs quickly, giving him a good morning hug even though it was 9pm. “I love you, that’s why I’m wearing your shirt.”

He smiles against her shoulder as he holds her, “I love you, more so in my shirt.”

When he sits back down at his chair at the round table, everyone is waiting with a raised brow. They want details, they want his opinion, they want to hear him stutter and see him blush like he used to. But he doesn’t.

“Yes, I will be moving in with her. We have people to save,” Spencer reminded them. Avoiding eye contact and flipping through the files.

Derek tugs on his amethyst bracelet, he hasn’t taken it off since he got it, almost 2 years ago. “Are you ever going to get her any other jewellery?”

“When she goes home I’ll show you,” he whispers, still avoiding eye contact as they all gasp. “Keep it cool or I will kill you.”

He keeps an eye on her at her desk, smiling when she looks up to see him. She blows him a kiss and waves softly a few times, but other than that, they don’t talk for the rest of the day.

—

The next time She sees him, he’s in her bed sound asleep as she’s coming home from work. She sits on the edge of the bed and brushes his hair away from his face to wake him up gently, he blinks into the morning sunlight to see her.

“Good morning,” he smiles.

She’s in his pink shirt today. She liked to keep something of his close on bad cases that take him out of town. In this case, out of the country. He was in Canada for a few days, the case was horrific and she had to deal with all the office work in Penelope’s absence.

“Amethyst,” she whispers, it was part of their secret code.

Spencer, being a cunning linguist, he loved anagrams.

They had Amethyst for I miss you, Quartz for of course, and Olive for I love you. It was easier to keep the PDA to a minimum at work, not wanting to sit in a seminar like Derek and Penny about sexual misconduct and hostile work environments.

“Olive,” Spencer replies, pulling her down into the bed so she can cuddle in.

“We can’t stay, there’s another case. JJ told me to bring you in on my way home,” she explains softly. “They need you to go to ER Doctor Barton’s house, in McLean, he got a note saying someone was going to kill his son. So far they’ve also connected him to a few surrogate kills of Hispanic men, they need the speed reader to go through all his recent surgeries.”

He sighs, holding her tightly and snuggling in against her back, “no.”

She laughs, “Spencer, you can read really fast and the faster you read the faster you can come home to me.”

“Fine,” she has perfect logic, he always tells her that. “Are you driving me to the guy's house?”

“Yep, so we can stop for coffee and talk in the car, I really did miss you a lot,” she struggles out of his grasp to turn and face him, opting to hold his face in her hands as she looks at him. He’s exhausted, just like her.

“I missed you too, I’m sorry I was gone so long,” his voice is barely a whisper, “We should take a day off together soon.”

“Yeah,” she smiles wider, completely in love with him. “I’d really like that, maybe we can look at apartments?”

“Apartments?” He repeats the word with a grin, raising his eyebrow softly. “I thought you liked it here?”

“It’s too small, I want to get a cat, if you’re bringing your closet here we’re going to need a bigger one,” she ranted. “And actually, I was thinking if you’re on the same page as me and this is a long-term thing for you too, what if we just got a bigger place and got a mortgage and start a little life outside the FBI, together?”

He’s so in love with her, “get my bag?” Is all he can say.

“What?” She’s so confused, shaking her head softly as she comprehends it.

“On the floor there, grab my bag, please there’s something for you in there,” he points behind her, trapped under her and the blanker so it’s not like he could get it himself.

She gets up, placing the bag on the bed for him as she watches him dig through it for a little box. “Arminius helped me pick this out.”

He had become best friends with the owner of the rock shop, she wasn’t surprised to hear that he had gotten something else from there for him. It made her giggle with excitement, bouncing softly as Spencer sat up and moved his bag out of the way.

But then he got out of bed, he’s in a pair of purple boxers and his hair is a mess and he’s so nervous and she has no idea why until he gets down on one knee.

“I was waiting to do this.”

“Holy shit.”

He nods with a shaky laugh, “yeah, I’m in it long term if you are?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to drive you to work now?” She laughs, unable to stop smiling as the two of them stare hopelessly at each other. She hasn’t even looked at the ring yet, too occupied with the wonderfully happy look on his face.

“Quartz,” is all she can say, flabbergasted as she keeps laughing with a shocked smile.

He takes it from the box and she watches as he slides the most beautiful purple Amethyst ring over her ring finger and then her hands are back on his cheeks. Pulling him into a kiss, she can’t seem to hold him close enough as she breathes in. Holding her breath as she keeps him there.

He pulls away with a laugh, “when are we supposed to be there?”

“Now.”

“Damn,” they’re all giggles.

And it doesn’t stop, she takes off Spencer’s shirt and he puts it on instead, matching it with a vest and a tie while she makes him a coffee and can’t stop smiling as she glances at the ring.

It really only made sense for their engagement to happen in the same place she fell in love with him.

Sure, she liked him a lot when he was getting her rocks and she really wanted to get to know him more after his last note, but it was the bracelet that made her fall in love. He went out of his way to make her smile on what felt like the worst day of her life, and she knew she wanted forever with him from then on out. Now she was going to get it, she was going to be Agent Y/N Reid, and her ring was absolutely perfect.

He catches her taking photos of it in the sunshine when he comes out of the bedroom. She still can’t stop smiling, it’s just so perfect and she’s just so in love with him.

They get muffins from the bakery under her apartment before getting in her car, “where is it?” Spencer asks, playing the role of GPS whenever they drove together.

“120 Kensington Road, McLean Virginia,” she members it clearly.

“Take a right,” Spencer smiles, and she’s off.

She drives with one hand, looking at her ring almost more than the road as Spencer held her other one. She pulled up to the Doctor’s house and he didn’t want to leave. Sighing, he looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

“I will see you when you get home, I’m going to call out after this case is done and you get mandatory 24 hours off for back-to-back cases,” she said, knowing protocol almost better than him. “Go to work.”

“Fine,” he frowns again, getting out of the car and walking around to her door. She rolls the window down and tilts her chin up, leaning out for the kiss he’s waiting to give her.

“Let me know when you’re done, I can come and pick you back up,” she whispers against his lips between kisses.

One last smooch and he pulls away, backing up so he isn’t tempted to stay any longer, “olive.”

“Olive,” she replies with a smile, waving slightly before he disappears behind the door.

She releases a long sigh, melting into the chair as she lets the butterflies swarm around a bit in her stomach, it felt wonderful.

She went home, napped from 10 till 2 and then sat in bed to stare at her beautiful ring for a little while. She couldn’t believe he proposed just like that. All she asked was if he wanted to get a mortgage on a house and she guesses he heard "spend the rest of your life with me."

Sometimes, when Spencer was on a case in Virginia and too busy to keep her updated, she would turn on the police radio and listen to what was going on around in the area. It was good to keep her mind preoccupied and to remind herself that he was safe.

At least that’s what it used to do.

“Shots fired at 120 Kensington Road, McLean Virginia, 10-999, 11-41, all units in the area are requested.”

“10-999, officer down, 11-41, send ambulances,” she whispers to herself, remembering all the dispatch lingo from the office.

She doesn’t have time to panic, she unlocks her safe and grabs her gun, loading it and then she’s out the door, in her car and pulling up behind the sheriff's car as she’s running out.

She tosses her badge up to show the cops as she tries to run onto the scene, “I’m an FBI agent on his team, let me through!”

She slides her knees along the grass, surely ruining her jeans as she dives for him. She places a hand on his bloody knee and looks everywhere else, “are you okay? Are you good? Holy shit, Spence?”

Her breathing is so heavy, she clutches her chest with her left hand and tries to calm down as he looks up at her and they breathe in and out a few times without breaking eye contact. He’s completely fine, there’s just a bullet in his knee, he assures her.

“I’m fine,” he laughs lightly, wincing at the pain as he leans forward to kiss her gently.

She’s there only 2 minutes before Derek, JJ and Rossi are pulling up on the scene. Everyone huddled around them on the grass as the EMTs bandaged his knee up before taking him to the ambulance.

“You need to call Emily,” Spencer speaks over everyone, “something happened to Hotch, I’m fine here with Y/N, just go see him.”

He was always going to be fine with her, that was for sure. She never left his side, except when they took him in for surgery and forced her back into the waiting room. But as soon as he was okay again, his hand was in hers.

—

He was given a month off after his knee surgery, but he still ended up in the office most nights. Becoming more of a night owl than usual as he accompanied his fiancé to her desk and sat beside her as she did her work. It was really nice to spend time with her and not have to do anything.

Of course, he filled his time by going over other case files, things they weren’t able to get to as a team and things that didn’t fit the criteria of the BAU. He made phone calls and sent emails, helping small-town cops make simple connections and doing more good that way.

He sat at her desk, his leg resting over her lap as she made a few phone calls. Handing the background of the cases, filing off invoices and approvals. Dispatching units and requesting files and overrides from other departments. She was amazing.

She hangs up the phone, finally, after 45 minutes of rolling her eyes and sighing as she was transferred from office to office all around America. She places her hand on his leg and absentmindedly runs her hand along his shin, staring off at the desk, silently.

“Are you okay?”

She nods, “do you think you’re healed enough to start looking at places?”

He nods back, “actually, I already found one. Hold on,” he slides his leg off her lap and stands with his crutches, hobbling over to his desk where he looks through his files for a new folder.

When he comes back to her, he places the folder in her hands, “forever homes,” is listed on the tag and he sees her heart melt in her eyes. She opens the folder as he sits down, there are about 15 pages of house and apartment listings printed off.

“When did you do all this?” She whispered, shocked and not wanting to cry at work.

“Before I got shot, I was on the phone with Penelope and I asked her to help me find some, she printed off like 50 and I selected the good ones, but there’s more if you don’t like an-“

“Babe,” she cut the rant short, “I’m sure I’ll love any of them, as long as they come with you.”

He pulls a specific sheet from the pile, “this one is my favourite.”

She can see why, it’s a large, green exterior, Victorian home. There’s a turret and a porch, large windows with a bench seat in the kitchen. A garage, 4 bedrooms, a finished basement, a study and a pretty nice backyard.

“It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, but Derek said he’s willing to help teach me how to fix some stuff,” Spencer pressed his lips together awkwardly. He really wanted this on.

“Let’s get a Realtor and set up a walk-through,” she agreed, “and we should bring Derek because he’ll know more than most inspectors anyway. I don’t want to get a place with a cracked foundation or a faulty water heater.”

He smiled again, “remember last week when I had that extra appointment?”

She tilted her head, “no, there is no way you’ve already been there to check it out without me.”

“And I put an offer in, but I was waiting for your approval,” he adds, nervous for her to hate it.

“With what money? I thought we were doing this together?” He’s not sure why she’s upset, normally she loves his surprises.

“When I sold my moms house, I invested the money and it’s been gaining interest for years now,” his voice is soft, “I got through college with scholarships and if I was ever down on money I just had to go to one casino and I always leave with two grand, minimum, I promise, I’m really in this for the long run. I know what I'm doing.”

She smiles, picking up the listing and calling the agency. “Hi this is Y/N Y/L/N calling, my fiancé, Doctor Spencer Reid, recently put an offer in on the listing for 247 Chestnut Drive, I’d love to come and see it soon and take some measurements and things. If you could call me back…”

Spencer is so in love with her it hurts. He wants to scream right then and there, like a kettle on a hot stove for too long, he’s bursting at the seams. She hangs up the phone with the best smile he’s ever seen, “I’m going home early, cause I’m sick, care to join me?”

She stands then, putting her hand out for him so he could stand with her help. “Quartz,” he replies, taking her hand and stands, she gathers their things and she clocks out. No one really cared about all her sick days, she did her job well and they wanted the good doctor to be taken care of.

When he finally gets to show her the inside of the house, she is so in love with it. The hardwood is all original, same with the railings, shelves, banisters and countertops. They're all rustic and beautiful, she can’t help but run her finger over everything as she looks around with an open mouth. X

The kitchen cabinets are green, there is a beautiful colourful wallpaper as a backsplash… and it’s completely empty. It was a remodel, some house flippers did it up and didn’t want to stay. It was made more modern, updated appliances and every safety protocol met. It was perfect.

She turned to him with a smile after only 5 minutes of looking, “this is it.”

“Good,” the women showing them around said, “because your offer was approved, with your say so I can get everything started with escrow.”

“Holy shit!” Y/N cheered, jumping a bit and showing off while Spencer just leaned on his crutch. She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek a few times.

“You can start that paperwork,” Spencer smiled, holding her back with his face in the crook of her neck.

—

The hardest part of moving is transporting all of Spencer’s books from one home to another. It's at least 30 boxes of books and Derek will be faxing his chiropractor bill to Spencer within the week.

His office here was huge, floor-to-ceiling oak shelves and green walls, full of all his books and belongings now. It was his own space in the house he shared with his future wife.

It felt crazy to him.

She used to just be the cute girl in the office, he can remember the exact moment he laid eyes on her. She was walking around aimlessly with some files in her hands when he turned around at his desk. She looked lost, overwhelmed and like she was about to have a breakdown.

She looked at him with the same fear he felt on his first day, he took the file from her and knew exactly where it was meant to go. She followed behind him, quiet as a mouse as he placed it in a folder by the wall under a sign that said "Anderson."

He turned with a press-lipped smile and a nod and then they went their separate ways. Silent conversations became their thing, the only time he really heard her voice was when she called him in in the middle of the night or when he heard her on the phone.

Other than that; she smiled when they passed each other, she’d tap her watch when he needed to be doing something Hotch asked for and was preoccupied with something else, she even knew exactly what he was looking for by just observing his chaos. Always able to pull a sheet of paper from the bottom of the stack with ease, and always silently, until that one day she said sorry to him after slamming the phone.

Now he knows that she talks in her sleep, she likes to go over her plans out loud in the shower every morning, and she sings all day long. Be it little tunes, hums, random tongue clicks or whistling, she’s always making noise. His favourite, however, was when sometimes she’d remember something she was trying to remember during a conversation they had, 4 days prior, and she’d scream it out like he knows what she’s thinking every second of every day.

He was in love with her voice, he never wanted to stop hearing it.

He was in love with her face, he never wanted to stop seeing it.

He was in love with her body, he never wanted to stop touching it.

He was in love with her mind, he never wanted to stop exploring it.

All those thoughts rushing to his brain and rushing a new form of butterflies for him. Like anxiety, but happier. Like he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her. It was anticipation rather than fear.

She really was it for him, and as he unboxed his life into the house they were about to share for the upcoming future, it all became very real. This was how the rest of his forever was going to look with her. All their memories from here on out were going to take place in this house, in these rooms.

When he picked this house, it was just a fun idea, and now he looks at the hardwood floors and thinks about how wet baby feet are going to sound during bath time. He wonders how many times the creaky steps are going to let him know she’s coming up to bed, he wonders what screaming matches and fights and love-making will happen beyond the bedroom door across from his study.

He wonders if she’s going to love him as long as he wants to love her.

He opens his study door then, “Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?” She calls up from the bottom of the stairs.

“Can you come up here?”

She marches up the stairs, still not used to the creaky staircase or the length of stairs she had to climb, soon enough, she’s on the second floor and walking into his study, “what’s up?”

He doesn’t know how to ask, he doesn’t even really know what he wants actually. He just missed her, and she was only just downstairs.

“Can I have a hug?”

It comes out more pathetic than he predicted, cringing at the embarrassment as he shrunk into the couch.

“Quartz,” her voice is soft as she approaches him.

Sitting on the brown leather couch that was once in his apartment, she wraps her arms around him and he holds her back softly.

Resting his head on her shoulder, he just wants to hold her for a while. Eventually, they end up laying down with her on his chest, still holding each other as silent as they were in the beginning.

“I love you,” Spencer whispers against her hair.

She snuggles in more, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder softly, “I love you, too, are you okay?”

He nods softly, “I was just thinking about everything and I wanted to hold you.”

She swoons, “do you remember the first night we cuddled like this?”

He nods again, brushing his chin against her head each time, “it all feels like history repeating like it’s supposed to be this way for us.”

“I like to think so,” she agreed. “I actually think you’re my twin flame.”

He hums, thinking about it, “I’m not sure I know what that means.”

“So soulmates are kind of like mirror souls, they are exactly everything that the other needs and they fill the missing parts for each other." She explains softly and he can already tell where her rant is going.

"I don’t think that’s us because we are too similar; sometimes we butt heads and don’t see eye-to-eye, and you drive me crazy a lot of the time because we have the same anxiety and daddy issues, but it’s also because you do things I think about doing and then I can’t do them because they're done already and they’re my calm down things so then I have nothing to calm down with, like yesterday-“

“Babe,” he whispers, “I know, we finish each other’s sandwiches, that’s what your niece said when she saw us together.��

It makes her smile and he can feel her cheekbone against his chest, “twin flames are what happens when one soul is ripped in half and sent to two bodies. They’re capable of surviving separately, as long as they have the right kindling, but they burn brighter together.”

“People sometimes think fire is living because it consumes and uses energy, requires oxygen, and moves through the environment,” Spencer says softly, “have you ever seen something catch fire on both ends?”

“Yeah, a few times, why?”

“It’s never about burning the item entirely, both fires are only concerned with connecting to each other for mass destruction. They always burn in the strangest patterns, but they always connect first before devouring the victim.”

She sits up to look at him, “are you saying I devoured you?”

“That would be de-flowered,” he teases, “but no, I’m saying it makes sense. We really have been burning through everything to find each other.”

“I cannot believe you just said I de-flowered you before the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said,” she laughs, “and it was a mutual de-flowering, might I remind you.”

“I will never forget,” he coos, leaning forward and pressing his lips against hers.

She pushes him back against the couch, it’s been forever since they’ve really done anything. With moving, Spencer’s recovery, her working nights and sleeping all day. It hasn’t been rewarding in a long time, it’s just been enjoyable.

“No,” he whispers as she starts to trail kisses down his neck. “I’m not having sex on the couch the first time we do it in the house.”

She laughs against his neck, pushing herself off the couch and extending a hand to him, “did the doctor even say you can yet?”

“I can’t do all the work, but I can give a second opinion?” He couldn’t stop the grin on his face as she hauled him to his feet.

“Let me heal you,” she whispers, and he knows exactly what she means.

She lays him down on their bed, on top of the covers with no clothes on as she gathers her things. She closes the blinds, turns on her amber lamp, and lights her candles. But his favourite thing that she adds is the sound therapy… helping the water in his body vibrate at the right frequency to calm him completely. She’s going all out for this one.

Much like the first time.

She’s naked too, both of them completely unfazed by each other’s naked form by now. She sits between his legs with all her chakra stones in her hands and she sets them down on his stomach before arranging them in order where they’re supposed to help on his body.

The Amethyst is just above his head for his crown chakra, touching his scalp gently. He closes his eyes as she places a Lapis Lazuli on his third eye, in the centre of his forehead. An Aquamarine on his throat. Rose Quartz on his heart, Tiger’s Eye on his solar plexus, Pyrite on his belly button and finally, Fire Agate at his core.

He always felt so totally relaxed like this, even the first time she ever laid him down like this. He was so calm, he knew he was in good hands and seeing her bless the room made him feel even better.

“Only good may enter here,” the words she repeats every full moon when she opens the windows and blessed the whole house. Keeping them safe, happy, healthy and loved.

She kissed the scar on his knee, causing him to open his one eye to see her. She was laying between his legs now, head resting on his hip as she lightly ran her fingers over his knee, ticking the skin where he finally had feeling again. It took forever for the numbness to go away, even longer for the pain. But she was so patient with him the whole time, taking the best care of him.

She doesn’t mind that he’s hard, she’s very close to his dick as it rests on his stomach beside the crystal.

She kisses his hip, inching each kiss over until she’s pressing one right to the shaft of his dick and he takes a deep breath. Knowing she’ll stop if he forgets how to do the breathing exercises she showed him. He wasn’t allowed to tense his body, this was about pleasure and there was no rush.

For either of them.

He’s done this for her a few times over the years too, just as slow and sensual as she was being. It was calming, rewarding, they bonded with each other and really felt like one being this way.

He heard a cap open, but he was so used to it by now that it filled him with contentment rather than excitement. He remembers the first time she said she wanted to do this, getting some skin-safe, homemade, vegan massage lube and almost turning inside out with how awkward she was asking to do this for their first time.

She sat on her knees between his legs with a small bounce as she got excited about her favourite part. She sat with the bottle resting between her thighs, warming up while she ran some of it over her hands. She massaged his thighs first, getting all the knots and making sure there was no “Charlie's on any horses”, the first time she said that he almost cried laughing and ruined the mood for a little.

She took the rocks off him then, sitting more on his hips as she drizzled the warm oil on his chest. He let his hands rest on her knees, wanting to feel her skin while she felt his. Her hands felt like magic, running over his chest, arms and shoulders like this was her job. She knew every crook, every cranny, every pressure point and soft tissue on him. His body was just as much her’s now.

It's when she presses her body flat against his that he knows the mood is changing. Her breasts are flat against his chest, her hands are behind his head as she looks down at him, her groin pressed right against him as he aches for contact, grinding up into her slowly as she stares into his eyes.

“Better?” She whispered with a small smile, already feeling how much calmer he was, she just wanted confirmation.

“Much,” he’s just as quiet in his reply. “If I don’t bend that knee, it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t mind doing all the work, baby,” she kisses him quickly, “I know you like it more like this anyway.”

She slithers down his body then, his body slick with oil as she easily glides down and creating the most wonderful amount of friction with him. He groans, tossing his head back against the Amethyst on his scalp.

She sits on his good thigh, avoiding pressure with his bad knee like he was an old man now. She makes contact with the only part she didn’t message, adding more of the massage lube to her hand before lazily jerking him off. He keeps a hand on her thigh, groping and managing her right back as she kept a perfect rhythm.

She occasionally grinds against his thigh, mostly when he moans and groans. Extremely turned on by him having a good time, proud of herself for relaxing him, always complaining that he was too tense, she really knew how to release the pressure.

Just as she gets into it, the calming sounds of rain and high-pitched frequencies come to an end… Rhiannon starts playing and he literally watches her come alive; changing her rhythm to match the beat as she starts to grind against him more, she only added his song to the queue, somehow an hour had passed and her music was resuming.

And when Spencer said she was eclectic, he meant she could go from listening to a rare Canadian band called the Tragically Hip, to Kanye West, Taylor Swift, Evanescence and back to Fleetwood Mac. He had no idea where the mood was about to go.

He moved his hand up her thigh as he tried to power through the pleasure, her hand was so amazing he was bubbling away under his skin. He manages to get his middle finger between his leg and her, massaging her clit as she bucked her hips down on him.

Mutual pleasure in any sense was enough for them, seeing the other being perfectly content after everything they went through; it was euphoric. She leans up then and kisses him desperately, unable to stop stroking him as she sucked his tongue into her mouth.

She smiles against his mouth as the song changes again, it’s the song from the ending of Dirty Dancing, he knows how much she loves that movie. Her kisses get softer, she’s so gentle as she strokes him just a few more times before throwing a leg over his hips and lowering herself onto him in one go. Bottoming out faster than before, both of them making the same moan as they curled forward for each other, mouths clashing as they held onto each other.

Grinding together, Spencer kept a hand on her to help her ride as she was preoccupied with her hands in his hair and kissing his neck as they moved in tandem. It was so good, he was incredibly close but he wanted to hold off as long as possible to feel her finish first.

His ultimate pleasure was knowing she was pleasured, he massaged her clit once more between their bodies and she shuttered, “right there,” her words are small as she kisses under his ear, tugging his hair softly as he moans so she can lick at his neck as she moves her hips up and down, gloriously.

He can’t keep his eyes open, everything is too much and he’s so relaxed; it’s like his body is floating on a cloud as she rides him like they’re actually in heaven. He was really having the time of his life and it made him smile at the end of the whimper he released as she tightened around him suddenly and on purpose.

She moves faster, and so does his wrist as he helps her over the edge first. She’s panting in his ear as she rides him with purpose. She cums with a gasp and then he’s gone, her whole body stuttering as she let out the most relaxed and uncontrollable moan he’s ever heard from her.

His grip on her ass tightens as he holds her hips down, he cums with a gasp and it’s so powerful he passes out.

—

He’s so cute when he sleeps.

She’s got him all cleaned up, everything put away and where it’s supposed to be in their new room. She just lays beside him as she watches him nap, blissed out and relaxed, she doesn’t even care that it’s such a typical guy thing to fall asleep right after.

That was kind of her mission.

He’s been so stressed, he wasn’t going to tell her because he didn’t want his stress to become her stress like it so often did. Feeding off each other like a fire, he really knew how to give a phrase to a feeling. But he was stressed because he was in pain from his knee and no matter how much he lied and said he was fine, she knew he wanted to relieve the pain but he was afraid of even taking a Tylenol.

This is the most relaxed he’s been in months.

She ordered a pizza while he was asleep, it arrived before he woke up too. She sets the pizza box, 2 bottles of pop and a roll of napkins at the end of the bed, gently, before getting back into her spot.

She brushed his hair from his face and kissed the tip of his nose gently, seeing him scrunch his face and swallow before blinking awake. She smiled at him, “Hi, sleepyhead.”

“Hello, beautiful.”

“I ordered pizza,” she whispers.

“Olive,” he replies.

“Well yeah,” it makes her giggle but she has to say it, “I got our regular green olives, mushrooms and extra cheese.”

He laughs too, extra happy after both the sex and his nap. “I love you,” he says the full thing this time.

She presses another kiss to his lips before hauling him into a sitting position, “I love you, too.”

It’s the best night of her life so far.

the house

Taglist: @dreatine for inspiring a part 2 <3

@shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[calenheniel]

In Fantasy, a frozen fanfic | Epilogue

Frozen | Alternate Universe | Hans x Elsa | Romance, Drama | G+

In a desperate bid to save their country from political and financial ruin, King Agnarr and Queen Iduna of Arendelle strike a deal with a former foe, King Albert of the Southern Isles. His price? That their firstborn daughter marry his thirteenth son.

Follow updates: #InFantasyFrozen

Find the full chapter on AO3, Wattpad, and FF.Net. Links on my profile and the full chapter below the line!

Author's Note: This is the actual ending. For now! Look out for the sequel in the not-too-distant future... Awakenings.

»»————-　❈　————-««

Epilogue

He awakens in darkness, startled by the shrill cries of barn-owls.

“Where am I?”

His head pulses with a sudden, strange pain, and he groans, his eyes closing again. Every blade of grass beneath his neck feels like a tiny pinprick against his skin, and he shudders.

A cool sensation drifts across his face, followed by a small, soft hand upon his cheek, which falls away as his features relax.

He squints as his vision adjusts, and he sees a young woman sitting beside him in a dress that shimmers like fresh snow under the moonlight. Her impossibly large blue eyes stare at him with a mixture of relief and concern.

“In… Ingrid?”

She stifles a sob as tears trickle down her face, a disbelieving smile on her lips. 

“Yes, it’s me,” she says, and grasps one of his hands in hers. “How are you feeling?”

“How long have I been asleep?” he asks, trying to raise himself up; she helps him, though he still slumps forward even while sitting. “And why are you crying?”

“Just a few hours,” she tells him as she wipes away her tears with one hand, and strokes his back with the other. “And don’t mind me. I’m just⁠—happy, that’s all.”

He nods without understanding, and then exhales, taking in their surroundings. They are at the edge of a forest, it seems, and beyond it there is a small lake where a group of waterfowl are settling down for the night, their beaks tucking away into their wings.

“Where are we? The last thing I remember, I was…” he trails off, frowning. “Actually, I’m not sure.”

He looks down at himself, surprised – though he is not sure why he is surprised, exactly – to find himself dressed in the simple clothes of a summer laborer, with a linen shirt, dark vest, and loose, long dark trousers.

The young woman bites her lip. “…do you remember anything at all?”

He pauses. “I remember my name,” he replies after a time, his gaze drifting up to her face. “And you.”

She blushes as he continues: “I think something important was supposed to happen today, or yesterday.” He stares at her, trying to focus. “Is that right?”

“I shouldn’t have asked anything of you while you’re in this state,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand even as her face pales. “You need rest.”

He nods, too tired to question her further. “I think you’re right,” he agrees, “but first, some water.”

She helps him to stand and walk the short distance to the lake, then kneels with him by its edge as he weakly dips his hand into it, bringing a palmful of water to his lips.

He sighs. “That’s better. Now, back to…”

He leans over the water, his hands gripping the tufts of grass at the edge so tightly that they begin to tear between his fingers.

She looks at him in alarm. “Hans, what is it?”

He touches a tuft of his hair at the front, examining it in his reflection with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t remember my hair being this color before,” he says, and plucks out a single strand of pure white, holding it up to her. “Has it always looked like this?”

She swallows. “As far back as I can remember,” she replies, and her face darkens.

He looks at his reflection one more time before shrugging, and lets the plucked strand fall to the earth. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” he concludes with a yawn, laying down on the grass. “I must be delirious from exhaustion.”

He brushes aside some hair from her face, stroking her cheek; she presses her hand against his, leaning closer.

“Come here,” he murmurs, sleepily drawing her into the crook of his arm.

She lays with him until she can hear his heart slow to a gentle thump, his breathing soft in slumber, and then reluctantly draws herself up, pausing only to kiss his forehead.

Just above her lips, she catches sight of the white hair again—and its color is stark and strange against his auburn mane, marking him a victim to some great terror.

She looks away from it, pressing a hand to her heart, and shivers in the shadow of the forest.

“I’m sorry, Hans,” she whispers, her voice shaking. “I’m sorry.”

[rivendellsstuff]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 | ❝There is a house made of wood in the countryside where a former soldier lives with his small family. This is the place where the strongest soldier of mankind found peace. This is the place where Levi Ackerman feels whole in many years.❞

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1319;

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: Manga spoilers for season 4 part 2 and mentions of canon-typical violence. Inspired by Samwise Gamgee's speech in “The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers“ and the song “To Build a Home“ by The Cinematic Orchestra;

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hello! This is the first time I have ventured into writing a story in English - my first language is Portuguese. I hope, with all my heart, that I am managing to evolve and that the text is understandable. If you spot a misspelled word or anything else, feel free to let me know.

────── ▎The petals of the trees fell as the wind blew across the field; it tore them from their branches and swept them far enough away to lose sight of them. Each flower that sprang from the small garden — yellow daisies, hydrangeas, and jasmine — filled the air with the most pleasurable fragrance. Outside, the light was intense; in the stillness you could hear the beating wings of startled birds and the clear water lapping hard between the stones of the stream.

There is a house made of wood in the countryside. This is the place where a soldier feels at home. This is the place where the strongest soldier of mankind does not feel alone. This is the place where Levi Ackerman rests after the war.

His refuge, with walls covered with tiled and carpeted floors, with polished chairs and tables. In the house, there is a small hallway that describes two rooms, one next to the other. No stairs — the kitchen, the bedrooms, the small living room and the only bathroom —everything was on the same floor. There is no sign of dust, smoke from the fireplace or clutter. This is Levi Ackerman's home.

Sitting under a bamboo chair, he watches the sunset and the approaching dusk. There is a book on his legs, the pages of which rustle with promise. Pages that, over the years, have contained the emptiness latent in Levi. An emptiness that grew and devoured, whispered and growled; big and fierce, red and bloodthirsty. Many stories now lived in the mind of the still young-looking former captain. He still remembers a simple part of each comrade, each friend, each mission and each people; the scars will always be there to remind him.

How had the world managed to go back to the way it was when so many bad things had happened? How could the end be peace? Levi thinks that there is a greater similarity between real life and stories in books than ordinary eyes can see. Stories full of darkness and danger, but whose shadow and sadness always pass. A new day always comes, the sun shines again and shines stronger on the survivors.

Then, little by little, Levi is healed. The stars carry his sadness away. The flowers in his small garden fill his heart with beauty. Hortensia replace the smell of burning copper. Books replace sharp blades. The whistle of the kettle replaces the shouts and screams of the battlefield.

"It's not bad to celebrate a simple life."

Suddenly, a babble coming from the next room gains his attention. Levi places the book on the pillows and uses the arms of the chair to stand up. After three years, Levi is still recovering. His joints pop and he stands motionless for a fleeting minute, getting his muscles used to the sudden change in position.

The sound is repeated and the pair of blue eyes, like two agates, shine brighter than any city ever could. Then he moves; his slippers drag on the floor and a cozy breeze rustles through the white curtains, spreading the scent of tea berries.

Now there is a shadow of a smile on his face. There he was, the one few had seen, but who looked so much like Levi in his features that anyone would guess they were close relatives. The blue eyes — his eyes — examined his father with amusement, a toothless smile on his delicate features, groping the air with his pudgy hands as one who wanted to say "hi, dad."

But where along the way did mankind's strongest soldier become a father? His years of precise and strenuous training could not prepare him for this test. For the tenderness of fatherhood. It was a surreal love. He never imagined he could love something so much.

He remembers his mother in times long gone by; the woman who gave him great advice and was always encouraging and protective even under such cruel conditions of life. A woman who sacrificed body and soul for her son. He remembers Kenny and his twisted way of upbringing and how that boy, small and thin, sought in him the long-lost father figure. Everything he knows about family is based on these two experiences. Black and white.

Levi is guided by instinct. By love deeper than the oceans. That tiny creature had already wrapped him around its little finger, but he never felt more at peace or happy in his entire life.

— Hey, little one.

Levi held him in his lap. Such a light weight was unfamiliar to his armed arms, but the movement felt natural nonetheless.

— D-daddy.

Levi smiled.

— Yes, dad is here. — he said.

Dad will always be here.

With his son in his battle-scarred arms, Levi Ackerman started walking again.

Outside, in the garden where he planted the daisy seeds, there is a slate bench. He sat with the little one on his lap and closed his eyes to enjoy the light breeze of wind.

— Tch.

Levi clicked his tongue when his son tried to bite his finger. His reaction seemed enough to make him laugh. The kind of baby laughter that gets everyone going - light and innocent.

— Brat. — he mutters, but there is no malice or irony in his voice. Just a father talking to his son; a person who has lost and won everything.

Suddenly, he starts to shake his little legs. Shaking his head, Levi helps him stand on the light grass. The father tenderly holds his son's hand as he tries to walk. He still can't balance, but Levi is there to hold and guide.

In a moment, his son raises his head to look at him and Levi realizes that there are thin strands of dark hair covering his eyes, unaware that a man who had faced monstrosities beyond human comprehension had wept at the mere sight of him twelve months ago.

Since the beginning of his wife's pregnancy, all Levi had wanted for himself was something better. A safe home and a family — everything he never had.

When the power of the titans disappeared, as well as the Ackerman's special abilities, that reflection of himself with the woman he loves had taught the former soldier so many things. Levi was still learning, of course; like learning about strengths he didn't even know he had...and learning to deal with fears he didn't even know existed.

Perhaps in his younger years, when he was still desperate for some kind of parental love or when he was still fighting day after day, Levi could look on with indifference at moments like that — too exhausted to think about a post-war life. With his refusal to see that he didn't want any of it, with his inability to change, with his distance from people. He doesn't blame himself, of course. Because, like many who live in dark periods, Levi couldn't shake off that half-existence.

Now, Levi Ackerman is a man with deep, abysmal scars.

Now, Levi Ackerman is a happy man with his small family in a house in the country.

— Come on, brave boy. Let's go into the house.

(...)

So, there is a house made of wood in the country. This is the place where a soldier feels at home. This is the place where the strongest soldier of mankind does not feel alone. This is the place where Levi Ackerman rests after the war.

There is a house made of wood in the countryside where a former soldier lives with his small family. This is the place where the strongest soldier of mankind found peace. This is the place where Levi Ackerman feels whole in many years.

[sleepdeprivedsloth]

In the Dead of Night

[MHA - Midoriya, Bakugou]

summary: Not wanting to return to a nightmare, Bakugou spends the night alone in the common area. That is, until Midoriya finds him and tries to get his old friend to open up with an effective technique from their childhood. (platonic BakuDeku tickle fic)

potential warnings: swearing, tickling

words: 1.5 k

a/n: ahhh my first fic!! …kinda hoping no one sees this but yeah imma post it anyways haha. hopefully whoever ends up reading this will enjoy it! happy national tickle day guys :D

--

Bakugou stared blankly out of one of the windows in the common area, gazing into the empty void that was the night sky. He rarely ever was awake during the dead of night, but yet here he was. Sleeplessly seated on the couch, long past the time his classmates all retired to their dorms.

He would much rather be asleep, heaven knew he needed the rest, but he was not going to risk returning to his nightmare. The experience felt more like he actually relived the sludge monster incident rather than only a dream. He could never willingly go back to that.

His mind being in its own world, Bakugou didn’t quite catch the faint sound of footsteps that grew closer. He vaguely recognized the familiar noises of the refrigerator door opening and closing before he was brought back from his daze by a hand offering him a bottle of water in front of his eyes.

Bakugou looked up and spotted no other than Izuku freaking Midoriya. He felt his facial features try to form a glare out of a force of habit, but his body was too exhausted to actually comply. Reluctantly, he grabbed the water bottle and took a sip as the green-haired boy wordlessly sat on the opposite end of the couch.

Midoriya, whose brain was still in the waking-up process, had just been awakened a few moments ago with his throat strongly craving for some cold water. Maybe it was due to the fact that his mind was still a bit clouded with sleep, or that the two boys had been sitting in silence for an uncomfortable amount of time, but Midoriya actually broke the silence and spoke up.

“What are you doing up at such a late hour?” he asked, turning slightly in his seat so that he could study Bakugou’s reactions. Midoriya didn’t know what he expected as a response, probably a snarky reply or just outright rage, but what he received definitely shocked him.

Bakugou completely ignored him and avoided any chance of eye contact by staring straight ahead. It was as if he didn’t know that his classmate was sitting not even three feet away from him. Midoriya immediately became more attentive and alert, his Kacchan Radar going off like crazy. Bakugou never missed an opportunity to pick a fight with or insult anyone, especially Midoriya.

To his credit, Midoriya took a moment to consider his options. He could go interrogation mode on Bakugou, but he doubted that the blonde would actually open up to him like that. Maybe he could just sit there in silence until Bakugou willingly chose to talk to him, but that could honestly take days. Of course, he could go back to his dorm and leave Bakugou alone, which was probably the option that his classmate would have wanted him to choose, but when was Midoriya even known for actually pleasing Bakugou?

Suddenly Midoriya remembered a technique that had never failed him back when he and Bakugou were younger. A method that they had both been sworn to secrecy about, and hadn’t been used in years.

“Why are you down here so late, Kacchan?” Midoriya asked again, grinning slightly, this time punctuating the other’s name with a poke to his side.

Bakugou let out a quiet yelp, obviously not expecting a small tingling sensation to suddenly shoot through his entire body. He internally cursed himself for showing a reaction and flinching away from the touch.

Still awaiting a response, Midoriya dared to poke again, but before his finger could come in contact with the boy’s body, Bakugou abruptly brought himself to his feet and made a move to leave the common area.

Midoriya quickly and quietly followed suit, walking up behind his unsuspecting classmate. He tasered his index and middle fingers into both of Bakugou’s sides, latching onto them and relentlessly digging in. “C’mon Kacchan, talk to me!”

Bakugou had to squeeze his eyes shut and cover his mouth with one hand to prevent himself from making any noises that could potentially wake up his classmates. He desperately tried to fight off Midoriya’s fingers with his other hand (emphasis on “tried”), but he was too tired physically and mentally to actually get away.

With the advantage of the surprise attack on his side, Midoriya was able to keep the minimally thrashing Bakugou in his grasp. Being the teasing shit that he is, Midoriya taunted, “I bet you wanna laugh, huh Kacchan? Go on, you’ll feel better if you just let it out.”

“N-no I w-won’t!” Bakugou argued from behind his hand, struggling to keep the laughter building up inside of his throat under control. “If we w-weren’t in the dorms right now I would not he-hesitate to blast your ass into nehext week.”

Midoriya gave a playful, over-dramatic gasp. “Did the Kacchan just giggle?” He moved his hands up to Bakugou’s ribs and started scribbling his fingers against them, causing the boy’s weak wall of defense to come crumbling down. As Bakugou’s little laughs started leaking out, Midoriya continued wiggling along the sensitive bones and drilling into the grooves between them. “I am now officially addicted, I must hear mor-”

“Hehehaha Deheheku quirk! Quhuhuhuirk!”

Midoriya immediately recognized the meaning of the word and stopped his tickling, letting his own arms drop to his sides. He watched as Bakugou bent over, arms wrapped tightly around his torso, trying to regain his self-control.

Meanwhile, Midoriya’s head began to flood with memories from his childhood, when the two boys had tickle fights almost on a daily basis. To prevent one of them from pushing the other past their limits, they had decided to use “quirk” as some sort of safeword. Midoriya was a bit surprised that he had immediately understood Bakugou’s intended context of the word, considering that it hadn’t been used for what felt like forever.

A soft, sentimental smile crossed Midoriya's face as he caught a glimpse of Bakugou's face for the first time since tickling him. The blonde’s lips were brought upwards in a reluctant smile and a light blush, most likely from embarrassment, dusted his cheeks. If only Midoriya had a camera to capture the rare moment.

“Did it really tickle so much that you had to call “quirk?”” Midoriya questioned, genuinely curious if he had gone too far.

Being somewhat in control of his own body again, Bakugou stood to his full height and faced his former best friend. If Midoriya noticed that his arms were still wrapped around and protecting his ribs, he didn’t say anything. “Of course it wasn’t that bad, dumbass. I-” Bakugou paused for a moment before looking away from Midoriya and continuing in a whispered voice. “I just didn’t want to risk making too much noise and waking anyone up and…”

He didn’t have to finish his thought for Midoriya to catch on to what he meant. He easily realized that Bakugou didn’t want any of their classmates to find out that he’s ticklish, which was understandable.

Midoriya nodded, showing Bakugou that he didn’t need to further explain. They stood in silence for a moment before the greenette chose to speak up again. “So why are you down here so late at night instead of sleeping in your dorm?”

Bakugou’s body visibly stiffened as he quickly cast his gaze towards the floor. If he hadn’t been exhausted beyond belief and still recovering from those nimble fingers that definitely did not tickle him, he probably would have told Midoriya to screw off and mind his own business. But instead, he answered, “If you really must know, shitty Deku, I had a dream about the damn sludge villain. I didn’t wanna deal with that shit again, so I just came down here to wait out until morning.”

Midoriya knew from experience that Bakugou didn’t want comforting words or pity. That would only make him feel even more vulnerable than he already was, and that wasn’t Midoriya’s intention. So instead, he simply replied in an indifferent tone, “Oh, alright then. Mind if I wait out here too then?”

Not waiting for an answer, Midoriya walked back to the couch and sat back down, spreading out comfortably but still leaving more than enough room for Bakugou. The last thing he wanted was for his former childhood best friend to have to recover from a nightmare alone. But he would never say it out loud, for Bakugou’s sake.

Two minutes passed before Bakugou inevitably decided to walk over and take the seat next to the other boy. Midoriya looked over and caught his classmate’s eye, nodding slightly to him with a small smile before turning back to gaze outside of the window.

Having gone from childhood best friends, to bully and victim, to rivals, to… wherever their relationship stood now, the two boys shared a strong bond that neither of them knew how to describe. But just being in each others’ presence in the dead of night, enjoying the silence between them, was comforting.

However, the pair would definitely not be feeling so relaxed if they hadn’t failed to notice a certain pink-haired alien queen that managed to capture a short, incriminating video before excitedly running off back to her dorm only a few mere moments ago.

--

a/n: thanks for reading, and i hope you guys liked it! i’m still working on that fandom list but yeah MHA will definitely be on there lol. i’ll try to update again soon but until then have a great life y’all!!

[gumnut-logic]

Wire (Bit 18)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5 | Bit 6   | Bit 7 | Bit 8  | Bit 9  | Bit 10

Bit 11 | Bit 12 | Bit 13 | Bit 14 | Bit 15 | Bit 16 | Bit 17 | Bit 18

This is the end, technically, but I need to write an epilogue to tie it all up, so one more bit :D

As always, thanks to @tsarinatorment and @janetm74 for the read through. I was a bit nervous about this one. I’ve had to jam it into so many tiny snippets of time, that it felt patchy and wonky. I’ve been assured it is okay, so hopefully you enjoy it anyway.

-o-o-o-

It took some time and some exhausting work on Virgil’s part, but eventually he could sit up and Scott arranged a press conference. Apparently, it was against his better judgment and he wanted Virgil to wait longer, but it had already been over a week and the presents kept rolling in.

So with a handmade Thunderbird Two themed beanie on his head to hide the mess of bandages and mangled hair - it had been Scott who flew in their barber to tidy it up, but the result was definitely still beanie worthy - he prepared to face the media.

Gordon respected his hair, but the beanie was definitely up for grabs on the joke front.

Virgil claimed he was just jealous he didn’t have a Thunderbird Four version. It turned out even more hilarious when Virgil discovered that the beanie did have a Thunderbird Four partner...that was tiny and barely fit his handmade doll.

Gordon was very put out.

Virgil made a point of wearing the fan made hat along with a blanket to hide his belly - who had time to make him an entire blanket? Again, green with red tassels, thin yellow stripes and a white number Two in its centre.

He might have gotten a little over-emotional over this one.

He was blaming the painkillers he was on.

Stupid drugs.

Scott, with Gordon and Alan on one side and John on the other, pushed Virgil’s hoverchair down the hall. Gordon had declared he wasn’t missing this for the world and Alan agreed. John, Virgil suspected, just wanted to keep an eye on him. His space brother had been hovering a little and it was odd John would voluntarily attend such a public gathering.

Virgil could count John’s attendances to this kind of thing on one hand.

But it was good to have all of his brothers with him. After all, they worked as a team.

As for himself, he wanted to do this, but it wasn’t easy. His health was something to be reckoned with. Scott wasn’t far wrong. His brain wanted, but his body didn’t have the resources to deliver and a simple thing like getting into the hoverchair in the first place was frustrating and exhausting as all hell.

The moment the doors opened to the pandemonium outside the front of the hospital, he realised just how much he was asking of himself.

But he was going to do this, goddamnit.

The lights from holorecorders and flashes from cameras were blinding. A sharp word from Scott dulled it all down a bit, but the noise of so many people and the brightness of the day along with those still determined to photograph him was overwhelming.

“You don’t have to do this.” Scott quiet voice in his ear was ever so protective.

“Yes, I do.” And Virgil forced himself to face the people.

Fortunately, by the time they made it to the podium and his brothers sat down beside him, the majority of the crowd had quietened down, eyes pinned on Virgil, waiting for him to speak.

But it was Scott who spoke first, dressed in his suit, impeccable as always. Virgil had a suit jacket and loose shirt on, but that was all he had been able to manage. He looked like an idiot, but hopefully a dedicated one at least.

“Good morning. As promised, my brother Virgil is here to speak with you. As you can see, he is on the mend and we are ever so happy to have him back with us. He would like to make a statement.”

And Scott turned to him.

Virgil fingered the torn-out page of his sketchbook with his notes on it and looked out at the crowd. The media hovered expectantly at the foot of the podium staring up at him, but beyond that were the group of people that he had come here to speak to. Most were average, likely interested townsfolk, but in the centre there was a swath of green clothing. Several held signs and placards that said things like ‘Get Well Soon, TB2’ and ‘Thunderbirds 4ever’. There was even one sign that declared ‘We love you, Virgil!’.

These were the people responsible.

The mic stared at him.

He pulled on the speech training they had all had and straightened his shoulders the best he could.

“My sole purpose of speaking to you today is to thank all of you for all your support and for all the gifts that have been sent to me. I wanted you to know that every gesture is valued and...” He placed a hand on his heart. “...I am ever so grateful.” Said heart was doing a royal dance behind his breastbone. He pushed a smile onto his face. “I would particularly like to thank Gavii for the hat. I needed it.” The smile became a grin. “Kat’s playlist was a beauty, and JB’s TB2 was an utter delight.” He looked down, his mind rifling through all the gifts he had been given. Looking up, he stared across the crowd to the bunch of green people in the centre. “If I named all of you, I would be here all day, but I wanted you to know how much I appreciate and value all your contributions. I will be passing the majority onto those who need them much more than I do, but I will keep your well wishes in my heart for all time.” He drew in a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

Scott’s eyes were an intensity off to his left. Gordon had already placed a hand on his arm from his right.

Now what he had wanted to say had been said, exhaustion was having a good go at winning the war. He knew this would happen, but screw it.

His eldest brother shifted in his seat. “I would like to express my thanks alongside my brother. We are very grateful for all the support shown to Virgil and our family during this difficult time. International Rescue will be returning to operation as soon as possible.”

“Who will be flying Thunderbird Two?”

Scott eyed the reporter at the front of the crowd. “Plans are in place. IR operational procedure is not what this conference is about.” The commander’s protective nature regarding the secrecy of their organisation automatically coming to the fore.

“It won’t be the same without you, Virgil!” A woman in the midst of the green patch yelled across the crowd. The people around her murmured agreement.

Virgil twisted his lips, the need to defend his brothers foremost in his mind. “My brothers are quite capable of providing our services without me. You can be assured of that.”

“I have to agree with them on this one, Virg.” Gordon’s fond smile shone at Virgil and then across the audience. “It won’t be the same and we are all looking forward to having you back.” That hand on his arm squeezed tight.

Virgil’s lips had to curl into a smile.

“Three cheers for International Rescue!” It was yelled at the top of someone’s lungs and suddenly the crowd was cheering like crazy. Virgil’s name prominent, but also the other brothers, all topped off with a ‘Tracy, Tracy, Tracy!”

Beside Virgil, Gordon jumped up and joined in, Alan not far behind him. John smirked and Scott tried to stay serious, but his eyes were sparkling.

Cameras started flashing again, holo-recorders buzzing around, but despite the overwhelming noise, Virgil’s smile just got bigger.

-o-o-o-

Next

[poor-baby-bangtan]

i was wondering if you could do something snz-centric with jungkook. like a cold or flu. hes just so adorable and im too much of a sucker of bts taking care of him in fics. (also im so happy youre back and well, you're one of my favourite bangtan sickfic writers here on tumblr ^^)

I hope you enjoy! 

Sickie: jeongguk 

Caretakers: Namjoon and Seokjin 

Words: 6,853

Themes: snz, fever, hurt/comfort 

"Ht'tschu!"

By the fifth time that Jeongguk had to tear himself away from the recording equipment to sneeze almost violently into his hands, Namjoon was ready to call it quits for the day. The pair had been finishing up some backing vocals for a nearly-completed song - it was only a bit of harmonization, nothing extreme or extravagant. Jeongguk had always been the best with harmonizing, especially in a higher pitch, so Namjoon figured that he would layer the maknae's hidden track over it first just to get a feel for the way it sounded.

But Jeongguk was barely able to get through any of his lines or simple melodies without having to turn around to sneeze or clear his throat. And now that Namjoon thought about it, his voice did sound a bit rough around the edges and maybe even a little congested if he listened closely enough to his dongsaeng's voice blasting through his headphones. And, above all, he couldn't get through a track that he would have aced any other day. It was nearing 1 AM and the maknae looked tired, stressed, and sick behind the mic.

"JK," he called through the slightly-opened door beyond the large built-in window between them (purely to keep unwanted sounds out of the recording). "You okay?"

Jeongguk sniffed and rubbed at his nose with a knuckle, ears reddening slightly at the sudden attention. Namjoon found it incredibly endearing that, despite living together for just shy of seven years, he still managed to get embarrassed over minor stuff like that.

"Yeah, I'm alright, hyung. I'm sorry, I know you wanted this finished quickly," he managed, staring at the open mic in front of him with obvious frustration and guilt, the tip of his bunny nose pink with mild irritation.

Namjoon stood and took off his bulky headphones, joining him in the adjacent room and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Gguk, it's not your fault." The maknae sniffled again but didn't say anything, looking so pitifully sad as his eyes wandered around the floor. "Are you wearing a new cologne or anything? New shampoo?" Namjoon knew how sensitive their youngest was to smells - his perfume of choice was actually faint and made for women and he wore it for the sole purpose of it not irritating his sinuses. Even a change in shampoo, conditioner, or hair spray had a tendency to trigger Jeongguk's rhinitis flare-ups.

Jeongguk shook his head. "No, everything's been the same, Joon-hyung. I don't know why it's like this."

The rapper chewed at his lip worriedly, running a hand through the younger man's soft hair. "You think you're getting sick, babe?" Namjoon chose to break out the pet names now - it helped break Jeongguk out of that shy, nervous, I'm-grown-up-so-I-can-handle-everything-myself shell he always tried to adopt.

"Hih-H'tshhuh! T'cHh!"

Jeongguk didn't have time to reply before he was pitching forward to sneeze twice into his elbow, leaning back with a little groan. Namjoon chuckled quietly and rubbed the maknae's back as he sniffled and scrubbed at his nose with his sleeve. "I think that might be a yes."

The maknae sighed, rubbing at his brow like he had a headache. "I don't want to be."

Namjoon just tutted and put his palm to the younger man's forehead, frowning when he felt the slightest bit of heat underneath his hand. He wasn't flushed and didn't feel too warm, but he always ran hot when he was coming down with something. "I don't think you have a choice in this one, Gguk-ah."

"But hyung," Jeongguk whined, looking up at him with his big doe eyes, "I can't get sick right now. We have so much stuff to do and I'm already making you stay late-"

"Hey, no," he shushed. "You're not holding back anything. We have work, sure, but it's not anything that we can't push back a few days for you. This is the lightest our schedule has been for a while, so don't stress about it, okay?" Namjoon smiled faintly, running his fingers once more through Jeongguk's fringe. "And you're not keeping me here doing anything. We could have been doing this next week or even not at all; this is optional just to test the sound, you know that."

Jeongguk nodded, sniffling again for good measure. "Yeah, okay," he mumbled, still disappointed and very much not convinced.

"Why don't we go ahead and head home? It's late," Namjoon yawned, stretching, all an act just to get the maknae to not protest leaving just like the rapper knew he would. He had always been the hardest one to take care of - most of the others eventually gave in and let themselves be coddled. But, nope, not Jeongguk. He would put up a fight until he was passed out or in the hospital, something that his hyungs tried relentlessly to keep from happening. No matter how much they drilled into his head that you need to talk to us, Gguk or you can tell us anything, Gguk, it seemed like the kid never listened. Despite the fact that he had recently turned twenty-one, he had absolutely zero skills in the self-care department.

Jeongguk nodded and Namjoon marked that as a big success on his part. "Okay." He patted his pockets a few times before sighing. "Let me find my keys first."

That's right. He drove us here this morning.

"No that's okay, Gguk. I'd rather call a cab." Namjoon wasn't sure if he really wanted his maknae driving while sick, and at midnight nonetheless. He was already a little reckless behind the wheel on the best of days and the last thing they needed was him having a cold (or worse yet, flu) on top of that. The leader silently cursed himself that he hadn't gotten around to getting his license yet (and tried not to be embarrassed that the youngest of his group had to drive him around despite the age gap).

"No, I'm fine, hyung. I can drive," Jeongguk protested, looking just a little too eager to prove himself and that he was indeed okay. "I can.. d-dr- hhitsHh!"

He was interrupted by another sneeze, though, pitching forward, bent at the waist from the strength of it. He slowly straightened upwards, hands still cupped around his face. Namjoon took the hint and passed him a tissue, which Jeongguk hesitantly took as if he were almost too prideful to take it. He usually was, and the rapper was thankful that it was late in the evening. A tired Jeongguk was an obedient Jeongguk.

"I know you can, Ggukkie, but I'd rather just call someone. It's late and we're both tired; I'd feel better if we had a cab or a manager come pick us up. Besides, we're here every day. We can pick up your car another day, yeah?"

Jeongguk wiped his nose with the tissue and threw it away, sighing. "Okay. Is Sejin-nim still here?"

"Let me text him. Go ahead and put your coat on."

The maknae nodded and went to retrieve his hoodie as Namjoon fumbled with his phone.

Joon: Hyung-nim, are you still in the building?

Cool manager hyung: yeah I'm about to leave. need a ride?

He smiled at how Sejin already knew what he needed before he had the chance to say anything about it.

Joon: yeah, me and Ggukie are finishing up in the studio.

Joon: do you mind dropping us off?

Manager hyung: of course, it's on the way anyways. but I thought Jeongguk drove you two here..?

Joon: yeahh but I think he's coming down with something. don't want him on the roads right now ~_~;

Manager hyung: aishhhh why am i not surprised 

Manager hyung: that kid always pushes himself too hard

Manager hyung: meet me outside in 10. i'll stop by the pharmacy tomorrow.

Joon: thank you Sejin-hyung :))

By the time Namjoon looked up from his phone, Jeongguk had pulled his hoodie on and was scrubbbing at his nose with one of the sleeves, sniffling weakly. The hoodie was a couple sizes too large and hung low around mid-thigh. He had balled up his hands inside of the sleeves, making rather adorable sweater paws with them. His nose was now red, morphing from the innocent pink tinge that it had held for most of the night, and his eyes looked a little far-off and watery. Namjoon tried his best not to make a sound of endearment and simply pocketed his phone, reaching out and squeezing his dongsaeng's shoulder.

"Sejin-nim is gonna pull up out front for us."

"'Kay," the maknae mumbled, looking exhausted despite himself. Hopefully it wouldn't be hard to get some medicine in him and put him to bed.

Sejin held true to his word; his car was already warm and running by the time the pair made it downstairs. Namjoon crawled into the backseat with Jeongguk instead of taking his usual place up front. Jeongguk didn't seem to mind, or even notice for that matter, as he put on his seatbelt and yawned into his hand. Namjoon caught Sejin's knowing smirk in the rear view mirror, though, and felt his face heat up.

He wasn't one of the most doting members but he still cared, alright?

Sejin started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "How's the song looking, boys?"

"It's going great, Sejin-nim," Namjoon smiled. "Jeongguk is really blowing it out of the water." He reached over and ruffled Jeongguk's hair lightly. Jeongguked smiled that cute smile he does, lips barely pulling back to preview his bunny teeth, eyes scrunching gently around the edges, and it was all Namjoon could do to not make a noise like a variation of a dying animal. That kid does something to his heart that should not be legal. The maknae pushed his hand away and he let him, reaching down to intertwine their fingers and rest them on his thigh instead.

Sejin chuckled deep and throaty, smiling in the rearview mirror. "Just as usual, huh?"

"Yep." Namjoon ran his thumb over Jeongguk's knuckles. "Golden maknae here always does his best."

Jeongguk ducked his head and smiled, teasing his lower lip with his teeth, ears going a bit red. He had never been able to take a compliment without getting embarrassed. "Thanks, hyung."

"Aish, don't thank me kid." Namjoon swore his heart was about to burst. His maknae really was just too sweet without knowing it.

Jeongguk was opening his mouth to say something back but stopped short, getting a far-off look in his eyes as his jaw hung slack. His nose twitched and scrunched several times with the effort not to sneeze; his breath hitched several times as his breathing quickened. He was not able to quell the feeling, though, and sneezed openly onto his lap before he could react.

"Hih.. hh-huh-H'itsxhu! Ht'scHh! Es'cHischh!"

He tore his hand from Namjoon's as he caught the second and third that came with it. They sounded increasingly intense and painful, and Namjoon winced in sympathy.

Sejin sucked in air through his teeth sharply as Jeongguk slowly brought his hands away from his face and sniffled in retaliation a few times. "You feeling okay, kid?" He pulled up at a red light and looked him over in the rear view mirror. "That sounded kind of bad."

Namjoon was glad that Sejin chose not to mention the fact that he had already told him Jeongguk wasn't feeling his best. Jeongguk would have been eternally embarrassed and probably would deny his hyung's help for a while. He had a strange trust system and Sejin seemed to know that.

Jeongguk snuffed once more against the increasing stuffiness in his sinuses before replying. "Yes, I'm okay Sejin-nim, thank you."

Namjoon withheld a sigh and put a hand on Jeongguk's thigh. Always so closed off and shy. Of course, he loved his maknae and wouldn't change his personality for anything. But sometimes he wished he would open up a little more and be a little more trusting to those around him. He had opened up to his band mates after a while, of course, but it was still hard for even them to get through to him at times. Jeongguk could be silly and goofy and just himself wherever he was, but when it came to showing any form of weakness it was like he retreated as far back into his shell as he could get. It was a constant inner struggle for him, realizing that he's still human and needs to treat himself as such. Even one (1) voice crack during a performance can drive him to tears. Weakness and mistakes are just not something that he tolerates with himself, as sad as it makes Namjoon. He's never really as concerned with Jeongguk's physical condition as much as he is with his psychological one when his health dips.

Sejin sighed quietly enough for Jeongguk to miss it and pulled up as the light turned green again. "If you're sure. Just let me know if that changes, okay, Jeongguk-ah?"

"Yes, hyung-nim." Namjoon could hear the gratefulness in the maknae's voice, even if he most likely would not accept the help.

"Aish, kid, always so formal," Sejin grumbled playfully. He had long stopped trying to get Jeongguk to drop the honorifics. They were fond and playful now more than anything.

Jeongguk made that happy noise in the back of his throat that he tended to do, sort of like a mix between a laugh and a endearing huff, and replied, "Of course, Sejin-ssi."

"Ack!" Sejin waved one of his hands in the air dismissively. "That's worse!"

Jeongguk chuckled, fully this time, with a grin that split his whole face and made his eyes squint. He seemed tired, but happy still - probably wasn't feeling too bad, then.

The trio fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the trip. Namjoon could feel that they were all tired - reasonably so, it was past 1am - and if he was being honest he was ready to do nothing more than just crash in bed when he got home. But his maknae still needed to be taken care of, because he certainly wasn't going to take medicine on his own.

The pair said their goodbyes to Sejin after he pulled up outside of their apartment, with the older man giving Namjoon a knowing wink as a way to say good luck with that one. Namjoon just laughed and waved him off. He knew how to handle his maknae.

Jeongguk stumbled inside, already half-asleep from the car ride, and made his way into the bathroom. Namjoon veered towards the kitchen where their medicine cabinet was and dug around for a few minutes looking for some sort of cold medicine or anti-congestant. He came up with a half-empty blister packet of a nighttime cold medicine which was about the best he could have hoped to find. With the winter, colds had been going around the members quite often and it was around that time of the year that they were constantly running low on medicines. That, and it would help Jeongguk sleep more soundly - even though he usually slept a lot (like, a lot) when he was sick, it was never very deeply and it left him still feeling exhausted, even after he was healthy again.

Namjoon popped a few blue gel-capped pills into his hand and filled up a glass of ice water as he heard the shower come on, sighing when he realized he also still needed to shower. But then he had a thought... why wait? He'd rather keep an eye on his dongsaeng anyways.

Setting the pills and glass on the counter, Namjoon made his way other to the bathroom and poked his head in. "Mind if I join you, Ggukkie?" he called.

"Sure, hyung," came Jeongguk's reply, rough around the edges and tired. Even though he had been living with roommates for many years, he still erred to the shy side, especially when it came to being undressed around others. But, if he was tired enough or felt bad enough, he tended to care less about exposure and more about having company and skinship.

At his response, Namjoon stepped into the bathroom and quietly closed the door behind him, quickly stripping down and pulling back the shower curtain to step under the warm stream of water. Jeongguk stepped over to make room for him (thankfully they finally had enough money for an apartment with several large bathrooms with large tubs and showers, so both of them comfortably fit). The water was a tad too hot, probably because the younger was feeling chilled from being out in the cold, even if they were just walking from the car to their door. Or that's what Namjoon hoped - he was praying the kid wasn't cold because a fever was coming on. He did his best to ignore it, though.

Jeongguk was just beginning to shampoo his hair, eyes droopy and tired. He sniffled once, and then twice - the steam was probably helping with his congestion. Namjoon struggled against a fond little smile and reached over to shampoo his dongsaeng's hair himself. Jeongguk didn't even argue and dropped his hands immediately to his sides. His eyes fluttered closed as his hyung worked the product into his hair, swaying with the motion. He sighed a long, drawn-out breath and leaned into Namjoon's touch, mouth just barely hanging open like a puppy's when receiving a good scratch.

"You're not allowed to ever stop that, hyung," he mumbled, words thick with exhaustion and groggy, eyes still closed. Namjoon laughed again and massaged the base of his scalp.

"We'll see about that, kiddo." He worked the suds through Jeongguk's long hair (wow, it had really gotten lengthy, hadn't it?) and took a second to admire the youngest's features. Even when he was feeling under the weather, his face was still radiant and beautiful. His skin was perfectly blemished, a healthy tan (how could anyone ever want to whitewash him?), and the resting-exhaustion-pout glued to his expression made him look younger and more adorable than ever. As Namjoon guided his head underneath the stream of water, he took a second to appreciate how lucky he was to have Jeongguk as his dongsaeng.

Jeongguk preened under the warm water, melting under it as it met his skin. He looked half-asleep. Namjoon fondly tapped his cheek, to which he opened his eyes; the older man smirked. He was just about to say something teasing when Jeongguk's face screwed up and he hitched, pitching forward catching it in his elbow.

"Hh- hh'itschiew!"

He sniffled a few times as he straightened up, keeping his elbow to his face as he coughed a couple times into it. Namjoon felt his chest tighten and eyebrows pinch together.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay Ggukkie?" He ran his hands through the younger's hair once more, scratching at the base of his neck. Jeongguk just nodded and coughed one more time before dropping his arm, pushing even further into his hyung's touch. But he didn't say anything or respond verbally at all. He was probably feeling too tired to even try and debate about his health. Namjoon just sighed and reached for his own shampoo, quickly lathering up his silver-blonde hair. "I have some medicine laid out for you. Let's just finish up so you can take it and we can get you to bed, hmm?"

Jeongguk only nodded sleepily once more, fumbling for the conditioner. Namjoon once again took over washing his dongsaeng's hair as soon as he had finished with his own; Jeongguk was seriously lagging behind as he struggled to stay awake underneath the stream of hot water. After rinsing out the remaining conditioner from the younger's hair, Namjoon passed over the body wash, turning the maknae around so he could wash his back. Soon enough, though, they were both toweling off and clumsily dressing in sleepwear. Jeongguk groaned when Namjoon pulled out the hairdryer.

"Hyung, can we please just skip that? I want to sleep," he whined, lip protruding in a cute little pout in an attempt to win his hyung over.

"Nope, no way. You're already getting sick and the last thing we need is it getting worse because you went to bed with cold, wet hair. Turn around and sit on the counter if you want."

Jeongguk huffed, annoyed, but did as he was told anyways. Namjoon pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead before brushing through the younger's hair and turning on the blow-dryer. Now the maknae was actually falling asleep, head lolling down several times before he woke himself up and jerked himself back upright. Namjoon bit back a smile as he continued to blow dry his hair, overwhelmed by fondness. By the time his hair was dry, Jeongguk was passed out, mouth hanging open and cheek pressed against his shoulder. At the sound of the dryer turning off Jeongguk stirred, blearily opening his eyes and blinking several times to focus them.

"'M done?"

"Yeah, kiddo. Hop down and we'll go take your medicine."

Jeongguk fixed him with a groggy glare. "You didn't dry your hair."

Namjoon chuckled and winked. "I'm too tired, I guess."

The younger slid off the countertop and headbutted his hyung in the chest; evidently he was too tired to pick his head up, so he let it rest on Namjoon's sternum as he weakly hit him with a closed fist. "You're the worst, Namjoon-hyung," he mumbled, no real heat behind the words.

He just chuckled in response and wrapped an arm around his dongsaeng's shoulders, leading him out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. "Oh yes, I'm just terrible for looking after my maknae," Namjoon said as he passed Jeongguk the pills from where they were on the counter, holding up the glass to the younger's lips. Jeongguk mumbled faux-angrily under his breath as he tossed the pills into his mouth and let Namjoon give him a drink of water to wash them down. Namjoon took the glass with him as the guided the younger down the hallway and into their shared room, setting it down onto the nightstand.

Jeongguk belly-flopped onto Namjoon's bed with a big sigh, stretched out parallel to the headrest. He grumbled incoherently into the duvet and stilled completely. Namjoon huffed a laugh and slapped him lightly on the back of the thigh.

"Come on, Gguk-ah, move over so we can both fit. That's right, get under the covers." Jeongguk sighed and grumbled again at his words, lazily re-correcting himself to lay properly on the bed. Namjoon lifted up the covers for him and the maknae crawled obediently between the sheets, settling in on his side with his feet curled up in a half-fetal position. The older man climbed in after him on the opposite side of the bed, turning off the bedside lamp and pulling up the duvet over the both of them. He reached over and adjusted the covers to below Jeongguk's chin, effectively tucking him in. As he got settled in himself, Jeongguk squirmed his way to Namjoon's chest, cold nose feeling over his collar bone. The rapper intertwined a leg with the younger's, wincing at his freezing toes, and slung an arm around his slim waist. For a few seconds, it was just the quiet sound of the AC and the feeling of the maknae's chest rising and falling against his own, warm breaths puffing against his neck. Jeongguk's long locks tickled against his cheek.

"Th'nk you, hyung," Jeongguk slurred against his collarbone, sounding sleepy and content but more congested than he had previously. Namjoon just gave a low rumble and pressed a hand to his maknae's forehead. A little warm, but that was probably just from the combined heat of the shower and hairdryer.

"Of course, you don't have to thank me, Gguk." He pressed a kiss into the younger's hair. "How're you feeling, jaigya?" Namjoon's brow contorted in concern as Jeongguk shivered a little in his arms and sniffled against his t-shirt.

Jeongguk just gripped his shirt a little tighter and nosed further into the crook of his hyung's neck and mumbled, "Shh, hyung, sleepy t'me, shhh..." His breaths became a little deeper as he fell further into the grasp of sleep, the small rushes of air sending goosebumps over Namjoon's olive skin. "No m're talkin'," he murmured, sounding as if he were barely hanging onto the last dregs of consciousness.

Namjoon pressed a kiss to his forehead before relaxing back into his pillow, fingers drawing invisible pictures onto the younger's back. "M'kay, babe." Namjoon figured he had been awake long enough - it was nearing 3am and he was feeling sick, there was no point in keeping him up any later than he needed to be. He could always check up on him in the morning. Plus, Namjoon thought he had done a pretty good job of taking care of his maknae thus far - a little questioning could wait. "Goodnight, aeghi. Saranghae."

Namjoon was only barely able to hear the whispered reply of "Joon-hyung, saranghae," before the youngest promptly fell asleep in his arms.

xxx

As expected, Jeongguk was restless during the night. He never really woke up but tossed and turned all the same, occasionally making sleepy noises and sighs against his hyung's neck. He never slept particularly well when he was unwell, which was something Namjoon knew was going to happen. That being said, the older man didn't get much sleep either. He was hyper-vigilant and woke up every time his maknae so much as stirred. Namjoon was exhausted, seeing as he had several late nights in a row, but somehow he didn't seem to mind this time. As the night went on, though, Jeongguk seemed to still, back pressed up against his hyung's chest. Namjoon woke up a few hours later to light streaming through the window and Seokjin knocking at the door to wake them up up. The rapper stirred and stretched, inhaling sharply. It felt like he had hardly slept, but it was already 8am.

Jeongguk still lay quiet as the little spoon, curled up into Namjoon's stomach. His body was radiating heat and he was breathing laboriously through his mouth. Namjoon swore and peeled back the covers, pressing a hand to the younger's forehead; he found it to be hot to the touch. His tan skin shone with sweat and his face was particularly pale aside from the flush of his cheeks. Along with that, he was shivering a little in his sleep, brows contorted into a painful grimace. Namjoon dropped his hand and sighed; he knew this was going to happen.

The older man tucked his maknae back into the covers before getting up himself, sighing once more. He made sure Jeongguk was still asleep as he left the room. Seokjin was in the kitchen brewing coffee from the Kurig, watching with tired eyes as the bitter liquid slowly filled his cup. Namjoon approached him from behind and wrapped his hands around the older man's slim waist, burying his face in a broad shoulder and pressing down hard with his forehead.

Seokjin chuckled and patted his arm. "What's this, Namjoon-ah?"

"Jeonggukie's sick," he grumbled into the fabric of the singer's sleep shirt, getting a whiff of his fabric softener in the process. Seokjin always smelled so nice. The younger man could feel the other craning his head to look at him so Namjoon picked his head up and rested his chin on his shoulder instead, meeting Seokjin's gaze. "It came on last night," Namjoon sighed. "He was restless all night and when I woke up he was running a fever."

Seokjin maneuvered out of his arms, turning around to face his dongsaeng and tracing the pads of his thumbs over Namjoon's eye-bags with a concerned crease in his brow. "Are you sure you didn't get it, too? You look awful, jaigya. You're pale."

"No, hyung, I feel fine. Maknae-ah just kept me up with all his tossing and turning."

Seokjin got a smug look on his face, smirking.

"What?" Namjoon deadpanned. He was too tired for this.

"Well," Seokjin drawled. "You're usually such a heavy sleeper. Worried about our youngest, are you?"

Namjoon felt his ears go hot with embarrassment. What's the deal with people, first Sejin, now Seokjin was teasing him? Unbelievable. "With all due respect hyung, shut up. Just because I don't show it as much as you do I actually do care about my maknae," Namjoon spat, pushing away against his hyung's chest and trying to walk past him, annoyed. Seokjin's squeaky laughter followed him and he was stopped by the older man catching his wrist.

"I'm just kidding Joonie, don't get so defensive," he giggled, drawing the younger back into a hug.

Namjoon sighed and buried his face again in Seokjin's shoulder. "Maybe don't tease me then," he grumbled, but the heat was gone.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Seokjin stroked his back and laughed one more time. "Have you checked his temperature yet?"

"Not yet. He's still sleeping."

Seokjin hummed, planting a kiss in Namjoon's bed head before pulling away.

"I'll go get the thermometer. Will you wake him up for me?"

"Sure, hyung." Namjoon started down the hallway, slowly creaking the door open and slipping into his and Jeongguk's shared bedroom. The maknae was exactly where he had left him, turned away from the door curled up on his side. Even though he was about to wake the younger man up anyways, the rapper tiptoed around the bed and kneeled next to his pillow as quietly as he could. Jeongguk's face was still scrunched up and tense with pain, a flush high on his cheeks. His hair and shirt were saturated with sweat. Namjoon reached up with his hand and smoothed over the distressed wrinkles on his forehead; his face relaxed after a few seconds, melting into a neutral expression. His face was hot to the touch and Namjoon's fingers came away damp.

"Jeonggukie," Namjoon murmured, reaching over to grasp his maknae's shoulder gently. "Aghi. It's time to wake up, jaigya." The younger stirred, eyebrows immediately scrunching up again as he fought against waking consciousness and the pain he obviously felt. Namjoon shushed him gently, cupping the side of his face with a large hand and rubbing his thumb over his temple. "I know, babe, wake up for just a few minutes."

Jeongguk blearily opened his eyes and immediately winced, making a pitiful noise of pain from the back of his throat and curling up into a tighter ball. He squeezed his eyes closed and buried his face in his pillow.

"Aigoo, I know, I know it hurts Ggukkie." Namjoon moved from stoking his forehead to running his fingers through his damp hair, something he knew Jeongguk had a soft spot for. "Seokjinnie-hyung is bringing you a thermometer and then we'll get back to sleep, okay?"

Jeongguk whined weakly, voice gravelly from a combination of sleep and sickness, looking up from his pillow to gaze at his hyung pitifully. His eyes were red and glassy and tired, framed by the high spots of fever-induced color on his cheeks. Jeongguk's face screwed up, and for a horrifying second Namjoon was sure he was about to start crying. He pitched forward with a sneeze instead, following it up with a few rattling coughs. Whimpering, he reached up to hold his head in his hands as though the movement had aggravated a headache. The older man frowned and leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead before settling himself on the edge of the bed, running his hand over his dongsaeng's back in soothing strokes.

"How're you feeling, babe?"

Jeongguk just grunted and gently placed his forearm over his eyes to block out the light from the window. "Bad," he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

"Tell hyung what's hurting," Namjoon prompted, smoothing out the wrinkles of his maknae's shirt over his side.

Jeongguk didn't move his arm as he answered. "My head n' my body are aching. It's cold."

"I know, aghi. Anything else? Is your throat bothering you?"

The singer just slowly shook his head before once again going still, arching his back against Namjoon's touch. He could feel the younger's fever through his shirt. He was satisfied that the younger's throat wasn't hurting him, though; a hoarse voice was an idol's worst nightmare.

Jeongguk reached back with his free hand and pulled his shirt up to expose his back, reaching for Namjoon's hand to press it into his skin. "Push harder, hyung. Please," he murmured, pushing with more force against Namjoon's hand, digging it into his ribs.

Namjoon took the hint and began to massage his back with the heel of his palm; Jeongguk shivered under his touch, goosebumps breaking out over his skin. He was probably cold and skin most likely sensitive, but wanted skin-on-skin contact anyways. His skin was moist and sticky from perspiration, but Namjoon bore the discomfort and carried on.

"Does that help with the pain Jeonggukkie?"

The maknae nodded underneath his forearm, releasing Namjoon's wrist and draping his arm back around his waist. "It feels good, hyung."

Namjoon adjusted his position on the bed for a better reach, kneading the palms of his hands into Jeongguk's feverish skin, moving from his shoulders down to his calves. Jeongguk mewled under the touch, arching his back and wincing but not pushing his hyung away. He always got awful aches when he was feverish and Namjoon seemed to know just how to get rid of them. The maknae tried to keep as still as possible, pressing his forearm against his eyes hard to try and reduce the pain.

A soft knock resounded on the door before Seokjin poked his head in, frowning softly when his eyes drifted to their youngest member. Jeongguk was shivering and trying his hardest not to let small noises of pain slip through his gritted teeth as Namjoon worked against his tight, painful muscles. The skin of his face was flushed and damp with perspiration - even from across the dim room the mat-hyung could see the rivulets of sweat trailing down his neck. Namjoon turned around, hands still kneading against Jeongguk's thighs, and met Seokjin's eyes with the same concerned look.

Seokjin looked back to the maknae and closed the door behind him, walking around and dumping his handful of medical supplies on the bedside table, keeping only the thermometer.

"Oh, honey," he murmured. "You must be feeling awful. I'm sorry, jaigya." Seokjin passed his fingers through Jeongguk's damp, sleep-tousled hair.

Jeongguk peeped out from under his arm and met Seokjin's gaze. "Good morning, hyung." His voice was strained and congested and the older man winced at the sound of it. He pursed his lips and planted a kiss on the maknae's forehead.

"My Jeonggukie, always so polite. Good morning to you too, baby. Let's get you some medicine and some food so you can get back to sleep okay?"

"Okay," Jeongguk mumbled, struggling to push himself up to sit against the headboard. Namjoon immediately moved to help him up, hoisting him up by the armpits until he was comfortably upright. The younger man winced as soon as he was sitting up, grinding his palm against his eye to try and ease the headache. He obediently opened his lips for the thermometer, holding it underneath his tongue until it beeped. 101.9.

"He wasn't very bad last night at all, hyung, I was surprised when I woke up this morning," Namjoon fretted, chewing his lip.

"You and me both, Joonie. We'll fix him right up though, aghi, don't worry too much," Seokjin said, putting the thermometer down on the bedside table and unscrewing the lid to the fever reducers, shaking a few out onto his palm.

Namjoon was about to respond when Jeongguk's face screwed up again for the second time that morning. His eyes got a far-off look as they glazed over, breath hitching. His already-pink nose twitched and nostrils flared, trembling. He brought his hands up where they paused, hovering just a few inches away from his face.

"Hih..."

Jeongguk squeezed his watering eyes shut, letting out an involuntary whimper as the sneeze refused to leave his body. The singer's mouth hung open just slightly as his breathing hitched again, once, twice, three times, nostrils flared and nose twitching.

"Hih... Hh... Hih.h..! Hihtshu! Hi'tshh!" His body lurched forward as he caught the sneezes in his cupped hands. Seokjin quietly blessed him and rubbed his back. Jeongguk let out a little groan as he leaned back slowly, dropping his hands and scrunching his face up in pain. The sneezing hadn't done much to help his headache.

"Oh, baby, I know," Seokjin cooed, running his thumbs over the distressed lines in the younger's face. Namjoon hopped up from the bed and drew the blinds, engulfing the room in a pleasant darkness. Jeongguk visibly relaxed at the abscence of light, sighing and melting back into the headboard. "Here, Ggukkie, take these and drink half the glass." The older singer pressed the pills into the maknae's hand and held the glass of water he had brought along near his lips. Obediently, Jeongguk popped the pills into his mouth and drank from the cool glass of water as Seokjin put it to his lips. Surprisingly, the younger drained the whole thing - both of his hyungs were pleasantly surprised.

"Good job, babe," Namjoon praised, kissing him on the cheek and patting him gently on the head. Jeongguk made a satisfied noise low in his throat, eyes already closed and lolling down to his shoulder.

"That's my maknae," Seokjin smiled, patting the younger on the shoulder before turning to Namjoon. "I'll finish making his breakfast and leave it in the microwave. I think it's fine if you let him sleep for another few hours. Watch over him, okay?"

Namjoon fixed his eyes on the younger who was blissfully dozing by that point, head lolling down to his chest. "I will hyung."

Seokjin kissed the maknae on the top of his head before leaving the room, going to wake the rest of the members and get them to get ready as quietly as they could (if they could at all, that lively bunch...).

"C'mere, Jeonggukkie," Namjoon muttered, going around to his side of the bed and crawling under the covers, holding his arms out for the younger to crawl into. Jeongguk didn't miss a beat, drowsily slouching down and scooting over until he was wrapped up in the older's arms. He nosed forward until his warm forehead was pressed square against his hyung's cheek. Jeongguk intertwined a leg with the older man's, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close as he shivered; he must have been freezing cold. Tucking the blanket securely underneath his dongsaeng's chin, Namjoon pulled him as close as he was able. The younger's breathing was already slow and even, already asleep. Namjoon laughed silently and pressed a kiss to his forehead, letting his eyes drift shut as well.

“Saranghae.” 

There were definitely worse ways to spend the day, he thought.

[heartofspells]

for me what works best is talking to people about what i'm writing, even if just vaguely, it gets me excited and want to write. sooo i finished my Prongsfoot Week entry yesterday :D and now i'm back to Lethe (yes i'm officially sticking with Lethe). i'm almost 10 chapters in, i've already outlined everything, i'll start posting it once i get to like..20 chapters i think. talking to people about it here got me so excited, i work on it almost every day and it's been messing with my sleep schedule but i'm just so happy.

now tell me about yours. do you have any long multi-chapter WIPs in planning? canon divergence? au? something dark? (waggles eyebrows suggestively)

LETHE!! My god, I cannot wait for this. But I am waiting. Impatiently. Also, like...I'll happily talk to you about it whenever you want.

And yeah, I've always found that's helpful too, but I dunno. I've got a couple people I'll talk things out with, but I eventually stop myself because I start to feel like I'm being annoying. I have a life outside of fandom, a very full life that's often exhausting. But when I'm home, and things are quiet and peaceful, fandom is where my head lives nonstop. Other people don't seem to do that, so I get weird and pull back.

Ha! You're a funny, funny person. Do I have any long, multi-chaptered WIPs in planning? Pssh.

See, I have this list, and it's all ideas for things I've not even started yet. And all of them (except maybe 2?) will be long, because my brain hates me and can't seem to do anything else.

But beyond that, there's the Burn the Straw House Down thing that's mildly dark and I can't seem to make any progress on no matter how much I poke at it. And nearly everything I write is canon divergence or fully AU. I rarely stick with canon unless I'm in the Hogwarts years.

But for the dark work question...yes. It's barely started and for a specific prompt, but basically things go wrong during the Snape incident with Remus while they're in school. Someone gets bitten. And that one has been nagging at me since I started it, but I still can't seem to move forward with it.

(also you're the best. just needed that stated)

[softrozene]

Stars and Dreams

Anonymous requested: Hello!!! (＾ω＾) Can I request one-shot soulmate au and (magic au? Idk if you name that. 😅) Law x fem! S/O? Okay it's more like a legend. If a person meet another person (in form of a star) in their dreams they're are soulmates together. Law sees her, her appearance is form of a star but he can hear her voice clear and well. Same opposite for fem! S/O. The timeline is somewhere in Punk Hazard. And she's by the strawhats crew. When she meets Law she thinks "hey! His voice is sounds familiar." She has often dream it if she sleeps. She has also heard the legend of soulmates. If they touch each other. Then both in their body shines a bright light. Like magic. And if they sleep again. Then she sees not the star form but person Law standing before her. That's it. I hope it's not to difficult. 😅 And take your time all you need.

Alright! The first request of the year! I saved it from last year because I am beaming with confidence (and I am such a sucker for fluff and soulmates alkdafs) FLDSA I don’t think this classifies as a magic au but I sure as heck am putting that down because stars??? They are freaking magical fluff to me. This was so fun to do so thank you for requesting it!

Trafalgar Law x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff- tooth-rotting fluff, Slight angst that is fixed with more fluff, probably grammar like always- Technical spoilers for Punk Hazard but I try to be as vague as possible and skip to the end of it.

Words: 1746

-

You loved going to sleep. You loved it so much and the whole crew knows why- You are one of the lucky few who has been blessed to have a soulmate. Some would consider it not lucky at all since it is so uncommon and more like a legend- But you love it so much.

You love the idea of solely being someone’s and them solely being yours.

The first time you had this dream was roughly when you were twenty. The shock that this legend of seeing your soulmate in the form of a star was beyond shocking to you. He was too bright of a light as a star, and you wondered if you appeared that way to him- If you were just as bright and mysterious to him.  Even so, you loved to stare into the light of the star. Even if you could not see his physical form you knew immediately that you loved him. The second you heard his voice too- You melted. He was perfect in every way even if you have yet to learn more about him.

The part that saddened you was even though you could talk to him in your dream- You were not really talking to him. It was only a dream so whatever information his voice gave you, was all in your head. You had no true way of knowing who he is, what he liked, his name, where he was from, absolutely nothing. It made you a bit heartbroken because this was the sad part- You were destined to be together but the only thing you had to go off from was the sound of his voice.

So, it was around six years ago long before you joined the Straw Hats that the dreams started. The dreams were vague and very rare to happen at first until you did join the Straw Hats two years ago.

They got more constant and you loved to fall asleep and dream away to hear his voice. You tried to memorize it for when you were awake in the real world on islands. To try and pinpoint his voice but it was in vain.

Slowly- Ever so slowly, you began to accept the fact that you may never meet him. It broke your heart, but you began to accept it while you and the Straw Hats were split up, and eventually, it just hurt to go to sleep and dream of someone meant to be yours, but you may never have. You started to avoid sleeping.

~*~

For Law- Things were different.

When he first got the dream at age twenty, he denied it. He thought that soulmates were just strictly legends- Something not real. Until that dream and because of how much it made him feel- Alive and surprised that he may be able to love someone and receive their love in return, it frankly scared him.

He avoided sleep whenever he could- He avoided the fact that he has a soulmate.

He did not want one- He did not want to risk losing the person meant for him since he just kept losing people when he was younger.

It terrifies him and he hates it.

He will be stubborn for the next six years but eventually as the dreams got more frequent and he had no choice but to hear your sweet voice- He started to fall and hard.

It pissed him off greatly but since he slowly started to give in and felt the overwhelming love drift to him in his sleep from your star, he… Started to love to sleep when he can. He enjoyed it so much. To hear your sweet feminine voice call for him- Even if it may just be his mind doing that for you he loved it nonetheless.

Though- He did realize he could not let his dreams, his soulmate, ruin his plans for Doflamingo. He tried to keep a strict schedule and since he knew the possibility of dying was there- He tried to sleep and hear your voice so it can be one last comfort he has before the possibility of the next day taking his life comes.

He pursued his plan- Got to Punk Hazard, waited for someone he put his bid on to get there- Monkey D. Luffy to create an alliance with him. What he did not anticipate was to hear that familiar voice coming from his crew.

It became unreal to him and he did think he was going a bit crazy- But… According to the legends, all he had to do was touch you then after this terrible mission he can sleep, and hopefully- He will find out if you really are his soulmate or if this was all just a terrible dream leading him on and making him believe he can be loved in this unforgiving world.

~*~

You were exhausted. And really grumpy. Those two things did not match well, and it made your brain foggy- Definitely not a good thing when you got to Punk Hazard. An island that seemed to be swarming with enemies.

It was cold and you were miserable- Then you heard an annoying voice trying to make an alliance with your captain- Wait, you know that voice.

You couldn’t place it, but you were fairly certain it may have been from your dream. That is your initial thought until Robin informs you that they all met him back Sabaody Archipelago- Trafalgar Law. You do not recall- You remember a polar bear but that is it.

While everyone was fighting you had gotten lost with Zoro and the poor fool got split up with you and you were looking all over for him so you can’t really remember much. It is a shame since that mostly means you met him- Maybe you think it was his voice because of how loopy you are. You should really sleep after all this.

It becomes a hassle to keep up with everyone, but you are used to being exhausted now and days. The others do keep an eye on you when you become a bit dazed, they help you a lot.

Eventually- All the chaos your crew, Law, and the marines ensue on the island comes to an end- Law has Caesar successfully tied down for the next part of the plan he wants you guys to help him with- Going to Dressrosa.

But for now- Everyone, including the marines, is enjoying dinner together after that long and hectic journey of bringing Punk Hazard’s facility to an end. You wait patiently for your food- Waiting for everyone else to get their fill- Even arguing with Sanji and Chopper (who has been concerned about your health) that you can wait.

You sit down and feel the exhaustion creep up on you and nearly smother you then and there but then- You feel a hand on your shoulder and a warm bowl of stew being offered to you.

You look up to see it is Law who has his eyes narrowed down at you.

“You should listen to your doctor more. He informed me about your sleeping habits, and it isn’t good to be low on energy so you should eat up,” He states rather coldly.

You do not take it to heart. You smile and thank him.

“I appreciate the worry now that we will be working together. Oh- I suppose we still do not know each other well from Sabaody. I am (Name),” You say softly.

He narrows his eyes down but replies, “Trafalgar Law… Unfortunately, (Name) we did not have the pleasure of meeting at Sabaody. I would have remembered but it is wonderful to finally meet you now.  You should rest up.”

He leaves before you can process what he said. You are shocked- Because if you truly did not meet him but just his crewmember… Then that means you may not be that loopy. That the voice you fell in love with but have been avoiding is really his.

You hate to say it but… You feel the need to fall asleep. You hate the feeling of hope just in case you are wrong.

~*~

Law is excited. He touched your shoulder, thankfully not like a creep, but as a genuinely concerned doctor. Now he just needs to wait to see if the star will turn to you tonight- He hopes it does but the part of him that does not want to risk losing anyone ever again also hopes it doesn’t.

They sleep there that night deciding to rest up before going on the move to Dressrosa- And like always he is excited to go to sleep, to hear her voice.

Sleep came fast and easy for him- He welcomes the bliss of a clear mind and how he lands in a meadow-like area surrounded by stars- The main star being his soulmate’s form. He waits with anticipation and slowly the star does begin to transform. He can’t help the blush on his face or how he feels the sudden happiness that it is true.

The star turns into your physical form.

He finally found his soulmate.

~*~

Upon waking up- You feel heated. You feel a total sense of comfort and you feel better. That was one of the most peaceful nights of sleep you got since you avoided sleeping and- It was worth falling asleep. You could cry tears of joy from seeing the star turn into Law.

But now that you are awake and you know who your soulmate is- How do you go about it? Do you even assume he had the same thing happen to him?

You are suddenly anxious as the smell of food wakes you up further. That means people will be gathering for breakfast and you all are off to Dressrosa afterward. That means you get to see Law- You feel even more anxious.

However, you do not get the time you needed to compose yourself.

Instead, you hear a knock on the girl’s door- Nami and Robin long awake and letting you sleep since you haven’t lately, and you feel your nerves light on fire as you open the door to see Law standing there.

You notice the blush on his face and the gentle look in his eyes. He decides to address the issue first. You can hear the happiness in his voice.

“So- We are soulmates.”

You smile back.

“Yeah- I guess we are.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

What If ~ JHS [Request]

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

GENRE: Fluffy, single mum, Non!Idol Au, friends to lovers, flashbacks

PAIRING: Jung Hoseok X Fem!Reader @poppinpeaches​

The drive over to your apartment complex wasn't that long but as Hoseok drove there his mind wandered over everything you'd been through together and how close you were as friends. Together you and Hoseok had been friends since you could walk and talk, your mothers had been friends which automatically made you the best of friends. He'd had the biggest crush in you during high school but never did anything about it because you were with someone else. The "love of your life," which at the time he was. You and your ex-boyfriend were a couple of the year, every year. Always together, even when you were adults you'd stayed together. Everyone thought you would be together forever until that one day. That one day that turned your life upside down along with Hoseok. 

All of the hospital walls looked the same to Hoseok, he had no idea which way he was supposed to be running in. All the nurse had told him was that it was down the hall and on the right and to listen out for the screams. The screams were coming from every direction so he had no idea what that even meant, 

"I swear to God if you don't get this baby out of me I will personally punch you in the nose!" That you, he knew that voice anywhere so he began rushing down the hall and entering the hospital room.

"Sir, no visitors." The same blonde haired nurse said to Hoseok but you grabbed onto his hand tightly, 

"D-Don't leave me, I need him here. The dad isn't here, I need Hoseok." It was nothing new for you to say that you needed Hoseok, it was something you would say a lot. He'd been there for you through everything in your life as well as every stage in this pregnancy. 

"I'm right here," He whispered to you as you looked up at him, tears rolling down your cheeks as you kept begging him not to leave you here alone. 

"You're not ready yet, a few more centimetres and you'll be ready to go down to the delivery ward," You watched as the blond nurse left the room, giving you a dirty look as she went. It was all she'd been doing from the moment you'd gone into the pregnancy ward. Giving you dirty looks because the father wasn't there and in your words, "wasn't going to come."

"Hobi I can't do this," You whispered weakly as you turned to look up at him. Sweat was dripping down your forehead as you whimpered at him, you felt so exhausted from the contracts you'd been having all night. You'd woken up at 3 am and your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen, you hadn't been able to get ahold of him so you rushed yourself to the hospital calling Hoseok on the way.

"You can do this, we both know you are far stronger than you give yourself credit." He whispered reassuringly, taking your hand in his as he looked at you. On his way here he'd been trying to get your boyfriend on the phone, calling all of his friends including his mother but there was no answer from any of them. 

"We're going to do this together, I'll be right by your side okay?" As he questioned you, you just answered him with a scream. The contractions were getting closer and longer which meant you were going to give birth any second. You'd read all of the books and been to every single birth class there was, you knew what was coming but still, you didn't feel ready. 

"I know this is scary, I can't imagine what you're going through but we're going to get through this together," He whispered to you, as the same nurse from before came to check in on you, she took one look at your face before nodding at you and calling for more nurses.

"It's time," She whispered to you, her demeanour changing form the cold one she'd expressed before to a calmer one as she began wheeling your head out of the room. 

"Where is he?" You whimpered as you looked around the hospital room, you were passing in and out thanks to the medication that the doctors had you on. 

"He's sleeping," Hoseok whispered once he heard you speaking, he hadn't left your side all morning. You glanced over at Hoseok who had a giant smile on his face,

"You did well," He chuckled getting up slowly from the chair to get you some water but you weren't interested in that right now. Your eyes landed on your sleeping son who was being wheeled into the room by a nurse, 

"It's time for your feed," You'd done this already before that morning so she left you both alone to do it in privacy, Hoseok looked up at the ceiling as you uncovered your breast and got ready to feed your son. 

"Has...Has he shown up yet?" You questioned Hoseok who was now looking at you again, he shook his head slowly. Your boyfriend was still nowhere to be seen. Hoseok had been the one there for everything, first feed, first nappy change, everything. Your old high school crush feelings were starting to come out but you pushed them away. You were in a happy relationship - as happy as you could be with a boyfriend who didn't bother to show up on the most important day of your lives.

"Y/n," As the voice of your boyfriend rang through the room you almost dropped your jaw as you saw him standing there, he didn't even look at the baby in your arms. 

"Where have you been? I-I was in labour," Throughout him leaving you there to deal with all of this you still loved him, you were still willing to forgive him for being late if there was a valid reason but then your eyes caught sight of the bags behind him. A suitcase was there too, 

"Are you going on a business trip?" Hoseok watched as you continued to feed your son throughout this, he tried to slip out of the room but your boyfriend was blocking the only exit. 

"No. I'm-" It was as though your boyfriend couldn't make it through the sentence he was trying to say to you, but both you and Hoseok could sense where this was going and what he was about to say to you.

"I'm leaving you...I don't want this, I don't want a baby. It means getting tied down and I don't want that, I'm meant to be a free bird. Flying around the world and travelling-" Hoseok looked at you as you carefully handed him your son, 

"B-Burp him Hobi," You whispered to him as you shakily got up from the bed and walked over to your ex who was now trying to back out of the room but he tripped over his back. Falling onto his back as you towered above him. 

"I just had your baby...I just gave birth to your son and you're telling me you don't want to be apart of his life? What? At all?" The coward on the floor began shaking his head at you, 

"I never wanted children." You scoffed at him before throwing his bag out of your room and into the hallway, by now nurses and other patients on the ward were all turning to look at you. 

"You should have thought about that before fucking me without a condom." You slammed the door to your room as you didn't want to cry in front of him, you didn't want to come across as weak right now.  

"Y/n...Are you-" Hoseok didn't finish his question as you walked back over to him and your son, taking your now sleeping baby from him. 

"I'm fine Hobi..." He knew you were lying but he didn't want to say anything, he just watched as you carefully laid your son down to sleep in the crib the hospital had. 

"Go and get uncle Hobi," You laughed softly when you looked out of the front door, Hoseok was sitting in the car daydreaming about something. Your three-year-old began running over to the car before banging on the door and yelling out, 

"UNCLE HOBI!" You giggled as you watched Hoseok jump out of his skin, whatever it was that he was daydreaming about really took him in by surprise. 

"Hey, kiddo!" He screamed back at your son as he slid out of the car, bending down to pick up your kid who was now yelling out in surprise. 

"I have a surprise for you!" Hoseok laughed wildly as he placed your son onto his shoulders and began bouncing up and down. You watched in awe of them as Hoseok walked to the back of his car, reaching into it and pulling out a bag. He'd told you he'd gotten your son a couple of late Birthday presents but this seemed like a lot rather than a little. 

"Hobi- You already got him so much for Christmas, it made up for a bunch of birthdays." You grumbled as the two of them came towards the house. Every time your son had a birthday or Christmas Hoseok went above and beyond with the gifts. Making sure to spoil him as if he was his own which made you feel guilty but Hoseok loved your son. 

"I saw them and I had to." He whined at you as you began walking into the living room together, your son sliding off his back and began jumping around asking what it all was. 

"Please let me open it Uncle Hobi," You nodded at Hoseok who was looking up at you for permission, 

"I'll make a drink, you're on clean up duty." You laughed softly, going through to the kitchen where you could still see them through the hatch in the wall.

As the kettle boiled you watched them both interacting with one another, Hoseok was like a father to your son more than his real dad ever would have been. His real dad never bothered to stay in contact, didn't even bother to send a card at the holidays or birthdays. It always made you wonder what life would have been like if Hoseok was the father if Hoseok had been the one you stayed with during school.

"Hoseok would have been a great father," Although you thought you were saying this to yourself Hoseok smiled with his back to you. He'd heard caught you once, on the phone to a friend when he was looking after your son talking about how much you'd wished he was the father instead. It wasn't the first time he'd caught you talking about him either, he'd heard you express how much you liked him before and now but he never did anything about it. He was always scared it would ruin your friendship but as time went on and you both grew closer it was getting hard to hide his feelings for you as well. 

Later that night you were cramped up in your home office, you were working from home a lot while your son grew up. Your boss didn't mind since most of the stuff could be done from home anyway and he understood your situation. 

"Here," You jumped a little as Hoseok placed a mug of tea on the desk in front of you, you were huddled over a folder of work and you looked up to see Hoseok. 

"Hi," You whispered breathlessly as you tried to calm your heart rate down, 

"I just put him to bed, he didn't want to bother you while you were working," You whined out at the thought of your son not wanting to bother you. You'd been so busy with work you'd barely noticed the day passing away from you, Hoseok could sense something was bothering you so he began rubbing your shoulders. 

"You know, he's young but he understands really well. You're doing great Y/n...Don't worry too much." You nodded at him and moaned out as he continued to rub your shoulders. Your eyes fluttered shut as you sat there enjoying the touches from Hoseok, but that was when you felt his breath on your ear. 

"I'd be a great boyfriend too you know," That was when your whole body tensed, you felt your body heating up in embarrassment and he chuckled deeply. 

"I've heard you mention it a couple of times...W-Why didn't you come to me about it?" He questioned as you turned your chair around to face him, he could read the expression on your face. 

"I was worried you wouldn't feel the same...Back in school, I liked you a lot but-"

"Our friendship," He finished off for you as you nodding along to what he was saying, 

"Then when I was in labour...I-I thought it was just the hormones but then the feelings wouldn't go away...Even now, whenever you're around I get timid which is stupid because you're one of my best friends and now I'm rambling because I'm so nervous you won't-" His lips on yours cut you off, you instantly relaxed against his touch. Your eyes fluttering shut as your body gave in to the feelings you had for him. Butterflies setting lose in your stomach as you made out with him, it felt completely natural. Not forced or awkward, fireworks were exploding around you as he pulled you up from the chair. Setting you down next to him on the small sofa in your home office as you made out, his hands working their way to your waist as yours tugged on the strands of his black hair. 

"N-Not yet," He whispered as you tried to pull his shirt up, 

"I want to take you out first, on a real date," He panted as you looked into his eyes, nodding as you smiled at him. Both of you felt so overcome with emotions as you stared into one another's eyes. 

"We should find a babysitter, someone who will make sure Mr Mischief is in bed," He whispered as you both turned to see your son standing with his head poking through the door, as soon as he saw you both notice him he gasped and sprinted off to his bed.

"Storytime with him?" You questioned as you got up from the sofa and linked your hands with Hosoek who nodded at you,

"I have the perfect story in mind," He whispered to you, raising your hand to his lips and leaving a small kiss on top of it before walking towards our son's bedroom.

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @bisexualmess007​ @innersooya​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

sleeping on the blacktop

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: angst, descriptions of a car accident, blood, gore, mentions of death, vomiting, medical terminology (that i know absolutely nothing about !! i am not a doctor or an emt—almost all of my knowledge is from an anatomy class or tv so—don’t come for me pls), my ramblings about fate and free will, i also gave the baby a name (sorry if you don’t like it :( i just hate having y/d/n, ya know? too much work)

word count: 8.5k

synopsis: while harry is away on tour, his wife and baby get into a car accident

author’s note: please, be mindful of the warnings and don't read if you're uncomfortable with anything mentioned and sorry for the sort of rushed ending... other than that, i hope you enjoy! xx all the love

masterlist

—

“You don’t need to do that,” Anne says from behind her, and Y/N flinches, nearly dropping a plate. She got lost in her thoughts, staring out the window in Anne’s kitchen.

“You cooked. It’s the least I can do,” she says. Anne grabs a rag and dries some of the dishes. Gemma is keeping Rhiannon occupied in the next room, and from the peals of laughter, it’s the happiest she’s been in days. Y/N sighs, wiping her pruned hands on a paper towel. If she’s being honest, she’s not doing too well; Rhia has had a hard time adjusting to not having Harry around all the time, causing a varied sleep schedule and more bouts of fussiness in general, and Y/N struggles keeping up.

“How’re you doing?”

Y/N hesitates. She contemplates lying. She doesn’t need one more person worrying for her, and she doesn’t want people to think that she can’t take care of her own child by herself. Harry already worries enough, even though she’s assured him many times that he doesn’t need to be.

She knows that he feels guilty for not being there all the time, but she would never force him to stop touring and doing what he loves, partly because she’s afraid he’ll resent her. Despite him being across an entire ocean, she never feels like he is far; he’s always willing to stop anything when she calls, and he tries his hardest to talk with her twice a day. She always keeps him as involved as possible, sending daily updates and photos.

“It’s tough,” she admits, “but it’s getting better, no need to worry about me.” She offers Anne a weak smile.

“Can’t help it,” she says, pinching her cheeks lightly.

Noticing the dimming sky, the sun sinking below the line of trees in the yard, Y/N sighs.

“We should probably go,” she mutters, slipping into the next room. Despite how tired she is, she can’t help the smile that takes over her face when Rhiannon looks up at her, showing her gums.

“Time to go, bug,” she says, light and lilting. Rhia kicks her legs, making her almost lose her balance. She’s too confident for her own good, like her father; she’s only just started sitting up on her own and thinks she can wiggle around without falling.

“You sure you’re okay to drive, love?” Anne asks from behind her. Y/N rolls her eyes, yet smiles fondly at her protectiveness.

“We’ll be fine. It’s only a few minutes away.”

Ever since Harry left for tour, Y/N has been staying in their lake cottage to be closer to Anne. It’s only a quick 20 minute drive away, which has been helpful during the days when Y/N needed to catch up on sleep, and Anne is always happy to help. She didn’t like to do that very often, feeling like she was taking advantage of her mother-in-law.

The cottage was a cute little thing, perfect for just the two of them, and Y/N was glad to get out of their shared home; it was too big and empty for just her and Rhia. Harry was always able to liven up any place they were at, but now that he’s gone, it felt hollow and dismal.

“You know you’re welcome to stay here. I’ve got plenty of room,” Anne tries to convince her one last time. As much as Y/N appreciated her worrying, she didn’t want to impose, and she’s sure that Anne wouldn’t want to listen to a fussy baby, even though she would deny it to the end of her days.

Y/N puts Rhia in her coat with little resistance, which is surprising, but she only had a short little nap that afternoon, and they had a busy day.

“I know, Anne, but I don’t want to intrude,” Y/N says. “Besides, Rhia sleeps better in our bed, and you need all the sleep you can get, don’t ya?” She tickles her daughter’s little bloated belly, making her giggle sweetly. Once she’s strapped in, the baby stretches and tries to put Y/N’s fingers in her mouth.

“You know I worry about you,” Anne sighs, kneeling next to Y/N.

“No need to worry,” Y/N smiles. Anne tucks the woven green blanket under Rhiannon’s legs. It’s the same blanket Harry had when he was a baby, barely held together with a few threads and love. Y/N stands, hoisting the carrier up to her hip.

“Call me when you get home, yeah?”

“Course,” she says, pressing a kiss to Anne’s cheek.

When they’re settled in the car, Anne stays out on the porch, watching them until they’re safely on the road, offering a wide smile and an air kiss. Y/N is so thankful to have her shoulder to lean on.

It’s a clear night, which Y/N is thankful for, no fog or rain, which isn’t an often occurrence. She stops at a sign, brakes squealing slightly. She stays there for a second, feeling the familiar burn of exhaustion behind her eyes. She rests her forehead against the steering wheel.

“Da, da,” Rhiannon mumbles. Y/N reaches behind her, barely able to reach her on the opposite side of the back seat, and she grabs onto her fingers.

“I know, peach,” Y/N sighs, “Miss daddy, too.”

She never considered how fragile life could be until she met Harry, not in the sense that death is an imminent and constant force, more in the sense that everything, her goals, her view on life, and her priorities, shifted when she met him. He became her influence, and she was willing to go through hell or high water just to be with him.

In summation, it takes all but five seconds for your life to completely change, for better or for worse.

There are dozens upon dozens of tiny events that build up and push you toward that one big moment that will change your life. Nothing is set in stone; different choices lead you down different paths, and your paths are constantly changing, either for better or worse, and slowly but surely, you’ll finally reach the top of that mountain. Every choice you questioned, every sacrifice you made, will come together in due time, just know that you’re working toward a greater purpose.

Y/N has never been a big believer in fate, that everything is beyond your control and that everything is already set in stone, but perhaps there is some truth to it. Fate could have pushed her to leave home when she was young. Fate could have put her on a safe and stable path when she went to university that landed her a good job when she was fresh out of her internship, and fate could have brought Harry into her life.

But she will never claim fate as a sole guide to her life. Fate is not responsible for her success nor her mistakes; that was all because of her hard work and integrity, her youth and ignorance. To her, fate is simply an excuse. People want to put blame on something, and when things seem out of their control or when they make bad decisions, they don’t feel quite as guilty. They’re willing to take credit for good things that happen but won’t when it affects them negatively.

Say, perhaps, that fate brought Y/N to that intersection, then maybe it was fate that planted the trees that obscured her vision; perhaps, it was fate that made the lights in the post go out that evening.

If so, fate has a twisted sense of humor.

If not, why wouldn’t fate give her any time to react before the impact?

How could fate be so cruel?

—

Working as an EMT, there are always certain risks you accept when you are on the clock; not only are you surrounded by an unbelievable pressure, there is always the ominous cloud looming overhead, a thin thread between life and death threatening to break at any moment, and it’s your job to keep them stable until they arrive at the hospital.

Not too hard, right?

Being able to save people from the brink of death and reuniting families makes almost everything worth it, but there are always scenes that stick with you for the rest of your life, and for Leslie Greene, this is one of them.

What stands out the most is the sound of a crying baby.

She’s seen some very horrific accidents: cars that have been reduced to nothing more than a ball of cheap scrap metal, with blood coating the shattered glass, to DOA’s, where the impact made them look unrecognizable. She has seen a lot of unspeakable things and had a lot of good people die on her watch.

But never has she ever had a baby present at any accident scene. That’s new.

Those cries will probably haunt her for the rest of her life.

“I didn’ see ‘em,” the man slurs from the police car. He has a bloodied lip and a slight bruise forming around his neck from the seat belt. The stench of rum rolls off him with every breath. He sits back, eyes dull and hooded, like he doesn’t even realize what he’s done.

Another EMT meets with her half-way to the other vehicle, lodged against the ditch across the way.

“Driver side sustained some serious damage. The baby has no discernible injuries, but another ambulance is a minute out to take her.”

From the driver’s side, Leslie can see the baby on the opposite side of the backseat, the car seat still tightly in place. The baby flails about, legs and arms kicking with strength. The car is twisted and mangled, but most of the damage is on the driver’s side, the door latched closed. Shattered glass cracks beneath her boot.

When they’re finally able to get the car door open, the woman, barely even mobile, opens her eyes slightly, but she flinches back at the bright lights. Blood drips down from her hairline, bruises already forming on her eyes from the impact on the steering wheel. Blood pools on the leather seat as she shifts with discomfort.

James, a newbie who has never been to a scene with this much damage, breathes out shakily. Leslie turns to see his lips curling, close to dry heaving.

“Go get the baby, yeah?”

He nods quickly, pale in the face, and scurries to the other side. The baby is soothed only momentarily before her wails continue. The woman’s eyes snap open fully this time, panic clear on her features. She tugs fruitlessly on the seat belt, a pained groan leaving her when she moves too quickly.

“Please, don’t move. My name is Leslie. I’m here to help.” She presses a hand to her chest, feeling the woman’s racing heart. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she grits out, her eyes fluttering dangerously. From how she reacted to the lights, she probably has a concussion. Leslie cuts the seat belt, and glass falls onto the blacktop, clinking musically until they settle, like they’re sleeping. Through the gloves, she can feel how warm she is, sweat beading down from her forehead. Glass has settled in the divots of her wool sweater, but not before cutting her skin, caking the pearl necklace peeking from the neckline in blood.

“Y/N, I need you to turn a bit. I need to see where the bleeding is coming from,” Leslie says softly, inching her slowly onto her side. She sighs as more blood pools, gushing down her back and soaking her jumper further. It’s from a rib that broke through the skin. She can only hope that they didn’t puncture an organ.

“Does that hurt?” She asks as she puts pressure on the skin.

“No,” Y/N whimpers, eyes fluttering closed. When they get her on the stretcher, with minimal blood loss, she stirs with life again, her trembling hand reaching onto the sleeve of Leslie’s shirt, painting it red.

“Rhiannon—my baby girl—is she…” She swallows back tears.

“She’s fine.” Leslie knows that it’s unwise to lie to a patient; perhaps, she’s not entirely lying, but it’s never a good idea to give a victim a sure diagnosis without actually knowing anything. There may have been no physical signs of trauma to the baby, but internal problems are a very real possibility that they won’t know of until they get to the hospital.

She knows that she shouldn’t lie. It takes seven minutes to get to the nearest hospital, but it’s time that Y/N may not have; despite how quickly they were able to get her into the ambulance, she’s losing a lot of blood.

“Thank you,” Y/N sighs in relief, clutching onto her hand. Her wedding ring nearly cuts through the gloves from the pressure.

“Of course,” Leslie says, easily putting her on an IV.

“My husband,” she gasps suddenly, her arm jerking about. “Harry—he—he’s gonna be worried. ‘M supposed to call. He has to tell her goodnight—“

“Y/N, relax,” Leslie coos. “We will contact your husband. You need to focus on yourself, yeah? Don’t close your eyes, Y/N.”

Leslie can see the fear in her eyes; it’s something she’s grown very familiar with, but it’s not just fear for her own survival. She can see how scared she is for her family. She struggles to keep her eyes open, resilience and weakness fighting for power. Like any mother, she’s fighting for her family. She’s fighting to be able to hold onto and kiss them one more time.

She is trying so hard to fight for her family.

But at the same time, it’s so easy to give in.

“If I don’t make it,” she slurs, breathing quickly out of her nose. The blood from her nose slips down into her mouth, making her cough.

“Don’t say—”

“If I don’t, I need you to tell Harry that I love him, and that…” She lets out a pained whimper, struggling to catch her breath. “I’m sorry.”

“This wasn’t your fault, love.”

Her lip quivers, teeth chattering.

“I’m just sorry for everything.”

Leslie knows exactly what that means. She’s making amends, apologizing for not being able to fight. A lone tear slips from her eye, but Leslie wipes it away.

“I will.” She promises, gripping her hand tighter.

Only two more minutes.

Y/N gives her a thankful nod, and as if she has finally made peace with the world, she falls limp, the light leaving her eyes.

—

Harry has always enjoyed New York, and it’s not very often that he is able to stay for longer than one night. There is just something about it that’s completely different from London or L.A. that he likes about it; He couldn’t imagine actually living there, with the massive crowds and fluctuating weather, but it’s a nice place to visit, very different from what he’s used to.

He’s halfway through the tour for his most recent album, and New York is the last stop before he gets a short break to go home. He has a show tonight at Madison Square, a radio interview in the morning, and then, he’s home free. He’s been looking forward to this break before the tour even began. Don’t get him wrong, he loves performing and meeting fans and traveling the world, but now that he has a family, it gets more and more difficult not being there for the people who need him most.

“So, I heard,” the interviewer begins, smiling widely.

Sadly, Harry has already forgotten his name. The interview was supposed to be a short little thing for social media, only supposed to take 20 minutes, so he could prepare for the concert that evening, but it’s been nearly an hour, and there are no signs of stopping any time soon. Harry holds off yet another yawn, the lack of sleep from the night before washing over him. He’s having trouble focusing.

“You’ve got a baby girl.”

“Yes,” Harry beams. Even though he wants to keep his baby out of the limelight, he can’t help the excitement that fills his chest whenever she's mentioned. He can easily go on and on about how wonderful and sweet and perfect she is. He tugs on his pearl necklace, biting on his lips to keep quiet. He and Y/N agreed that it would be best for Rhia to grow up as normally as possible, which meant only posting about her on his private social media and avoiding busy places so as to not be seen, but some things were simply unavoidable, like interviewers trying to get him to let something about her slip to get their five-minutes-of-fame. It seems rude of him to completely ignore their questions, so he just sticks to very short, vague answers.

“How are you adjusting to fatherhood?”

“Uh,” he laughs, fiddling with his wedding ring. “It was a struggle to begin with. I will admit that, but it’s getting better. We’re still learning how to adjust to everything.”

He says it like he’s actually there, actively helping Y/N, even though he's on the other side of the world. He hasn’t seen his daughter in nearly two months; video chats have absolutely nothing on the real thing. He isn’t helping Y/N put Rhia to sleep when she’s feeling particularly fussy or feeding her at two in the morning, so Y/N can finally get some well-deserved sleep, and he’s not there to play with her or comfort her.

It feels like he’s lying.

He’s a sad excuse of a father. That’s what he really is.

The thought makes the smile fall from his face, but he’s quick to force another one; if there’s anything that he’s learned after years in the public eye, it’s how to fake emotions. The interviewer gives him an understanding smile. He’s older, but not too old, only having a few years on Harry, age wise, but the wrinkles beside his eyes and the nicked ring on his finger suggest years of familial experience.

“I completely understand. I have three boys of my own, and—”

“I am so sorry,” Jeff, Harry’s savior, says suddenly from behind the camera. “D’ya mind if I borrow Harry for a second?”

The interviewer nods.

“No problem. Take 15?”

Harry feels a twinge of guilt as he stands quickly from the chair, happy to finally have a break.

“Thanks,” Harry sighs, brushing past Jeff to the refreshment table. “‘M exhausted. Maybe it’s ‘cause of Rhi, but every little thing wakes me up. Swore I heard her cryin’ last night.” Jeff is quiet, fiddling with his hands nervously. Harry doesn’t notice how quiet the man has gotten, and he opens a bottle of water, rifling through his bag.

“Isn’t it almost 3? Y/N should be callin’ soon.”

“Harry,” Jeff says again, stronger this time. Harry still doesn’t notice how his voice breaks slightly, wobbly and hesitant.

“Yeah?” Harry drinks nearly half of the water, not sparing a glance up. He fishes for his phone, only to remember that he left it in the car. He sighs and turns. That’s when he finally notices how shaken up Jeff is, pale and nervous.

“What’s up? Look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he laughs, downing the rest of his water before tossing it in the bin.

“Harry,” Jeff says again, soft and somber, and it makes Harry stop. Dread settles in his stomach, deep and heavy. Jeff has never been one to be the bearer of bad news, and he tended to beat around the bush. “Why don’t you sit down?” Jeff tries to guide Harry over to the cheap stool in the corner of the room, but he rips his arm from his grasp.

Harry has never been one to let his mind run wild; he’s the calm one, who looks at reason and logic. He's the one to tell everyone that everything’s going to be fine; he’s the one who takes everything in stride, like water rolling down his back. Bumps in the road are nothing. He’s the one that comes up with solutions and executes them with ease, but with the way Jeff is treating him, his heart races.

“What?”

“There’s been an accident,” Jeff says slowly, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

It takes a second for Harry to process his words, but when he does, he stumbles back.

His mind automatically tries to reason with itself, that maybe it has nothing to do with him. Perhaps, something went wrong at the venue, and they would have to postpone, lengthening his stay for only a couple more days. Maybe, Mitch got food poisoning and will be unable to play that evening. There are dozens of reasonable explanations as to why Jeff pulled him aside, but Harry knows, deep down, that he wouldn’t have such a mournful look in his eyes, if it isn’t anything less than very serious.

Okay, fine, there was an accident. That could mean so many different things. An accident doesn’t even necessarily mean that they are in grave danger; they could be walking away unscathed.

“W-what? I-i-is it Gem? Mum?” Endless scenarios flicker in his mind, each one worse than the last. The one thing that he doesn’t even consider is it being Y/N or Rhiannon. His mind refuses to go down that road; if it did, there’s no way of knowing how he would react. He doesn’t even consider the possibility of them being in trouble. He hates how long Jeff is taking to tell him, as if holding off will soften the blow. Irritation starts bubbling below the surface, and he finds it hard to keep calm.

“Harry,” he says, shaking his head. “Anne called me. There was a drunk driver, and they’re headed to the hospital now—”

“They?”

His heart stops for a second, and it feels like his chest collapses in on itself. His body feels like it’s reacting to a stressful situation, with adrenaline and fear and anger, but Harry isn’t thinking with a grieving mind; it’s cloudy and slow, delusional, even. He shakes his head.

“No,” Harry mutters, taking a step forward. He can feel tears burn in his eyes, and he makes no move to wipe them. “It wasn’t…” Harry can’t finish the question. It makes him nauseous. Jeff nods solemnly, which, in any other circumstance, would have been answer enough. “Say it,” Harry snaps.

It’s unreal, like a dream. This didn’t happen to him, not his family.

They’re safe. There’s just been a mistake. That’s the only reasonable explanation to everything. Someone made a mistake. Maybe a fan thought it would be funny to pretend to be his mum, and they somehow got Jeff’s number. It had to be a horrible, awful, repulsive joke to get some attention or something; as implausible as that seems, it’s the only thought that makes sense to him because he can’t possibly understand the weight of the truth. He doesn’t know if he can handle it.

His girls are fine.

They have to be.

“Harry—” Jeff tries to calm him down, seeing a bright red flush to his skin, frustration seeping through every pore. Anger isn’t becoming of Harry; Jeff has only seen him angry a couple of times, but never to this extent: red in the face, words shaky, eyes glassy.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“It was Y/N and Rhiannon.”

That is the absolute last thing that he wanted to hear.

Even though, deep down, he knew that they were in trouble. From the first moment Jeff said his name to how sickly he looked when he told him to sit down, Harry knew, deep in his heart and mind, that his family is in trouble. He just wasn’t willing to accept it or even think about it, as if that could change reality. Until Jeff said those five words that confirmed his worst nightmare.

And he feels his world come crashing down, but he’s stuck, frozen, mind not moving nearly as fast as it should be.

“My—my…” He stutters, throat closing. “My girls?” The ache in his chest increases tenfold, and he holds onto his, feeling the racing of his heart and his quick breathing. “You’re fuckin’ with me,” he scoffs, rage building. He shakes his head with denial. “What kind of fuckin’ prick—”

“I wouldn’t joke about—”

Harry knows that. Y/N and Jeff are close. Hell, they even considered making him their daughter’s godfather. Jeff would never joke about something this serious, and Harry knows that, but he isn’t willing to accept the reality because the reality is nearly too much for him to comprehend, to carry on his already weak shoulders.

“No, they’re not,” Harry closes his eyes, hands slipping through his hair like it normally does when he’s anxious. He tugs on it, but the pain is nothing compared to the sick feeling in his stomach or the crack in his pounding heart. He honestly feels like he’s going to be ill or pass out, feeling his mouth dry up, his hands clamming up, and he begins to feel light-headed.

“Y/N’s just about to call me. It’s Rhi’s bedtime.” He rambles, not listening to Jeff.

They can’t be going to a hospital. He talked to Y/N just this morning when he couldn’t fall asleep. He spoke about his worries and doubts and guilt that he felt for being so far away from them, and Y/N soothed all of his fears and reservations, reminding him why he does what he does. Before she left, she told him that she loved him, and he could hear Rhi babbling away in the background, content and happy and safe.

“There’s a plane leaving in a half an hour—”

“And I sing to her. That's the only way she’ll sleep through the night. She hasn’t been sleepin’ very well these past few days,” he says, lost in his thoughts. His words begin to slur.

“Harry, listen to me,” Jeff says, holding onto his shoulders, trying to keep him grounded, from falling apart. Harry doesn’t get anxious often, but when he does, everything comes to a startling halt; he’s not used to it, and he lets it overwhelm him until he can’t function. That’s the last thing anyone needs.

“No, no, they’re fine. They’re fine. They’re—” He swallows, and like a wave, realization dawns on him, drowning him. His family is in the hospital, and he’s not there with them. “Oh, god,” he cries, feeling bile burn his throat. He sinks to his knees, hand pitifully covering his mouth to keep from vomiting. His vision darkens. It feels like the walls are crumbling down, and he’s stuck, frozen and alone, with no one coming to save him.

Just like his girls.

“Harry, you can’t shut down, not now,” Jeff says, kneeling beside him. “They need you.”

He knows that. He needs to be strong for the both of them, so he wipes away his tears, clenches his jaw, and pushes everything down, even if it feels like he’s choking. He has to be strong for the both of them.

The drive to the airport is a blur. He swallows back his tears until his head feels like it’s going to burst and holds his breath until he can see black spots in his vision, but most of all, he’s numb. A small part of him is still trying to convince himself that this is all just a big misunderstanding, but the larger part, the part that’s screaming the loudest, tells him he’s being irrational and selfish.

It takes 7 hours to get home; he has to travel across an entire ocean to get to his family.

How unfair is that?

He wants to blame the world, God, fate. He wants to curse whatever force existed, but behind all of the hate and accusations and judgement, he is nothing more than a guilty, broken shell of a man.

He’s angry with himself, mostly, with the choices he’s made, with how selfish and greedy he was, and how inconsiderate his actions have been for the past few months. He can’t believe that he could be so self-centered, taking Y/N for granted. She’s his wife; they’re supposed to be partners, equals, and he treated her like she was disposable while he traveled the world, living out a dying dream.

He wishes he was there, to not only prevent it, but also to tell her just one last time how important she was to him and tell her of the pain that would spread in his chest at the possibility of losing her or their child; he wants so badly to show his love for her. In four days, they would have been celebrating six years together, and in that time, he has never doubted his love for her. He knew, from the moment they met, that she was meant to be with him until the very end. They were soulmates.

Now that he might lose her and his baby, he feels like his soul is being ripped out of his chest, leaving nothing but a gaping, painful void.

Jeff sends him a link to Twitter and a message: Harry, take all the time you need.

The post says: Due to a personal emergency, Harry will not be able to make the show at MSG this evening, and all tour dates from this moment forth will be canceled until further notice. Know that he wishes he could be with you all, and please, respect his privacy in these trying times.

He calls his mother shortly after, but she doesn’t answer. When he tries Gem, she picks up after a few rings, shaky and winded. He sighs, trying to quell the tremors in his hands. His lips quiver.

“What’s goin’ on?”

Gemma explains what happened to the best of her ability, that Y/N just left to go back to the cottage after eating dinner And that Anne received a call from the hospital, after he didn’t answer his phone (that part stung to hear).

“Please—” He begins, but his voice teeters and breaks at the end. He can’t help the tears that slip down his cheeks. Exhausted and weak, he finally cries. He cries for his wife, his child, and himself. They’re not heart-wrenching sobs, where he’s keeled over, grief and anxiety spilling out of every pore, but they leave him breathless, chest aching.

“Please, tell me everythin’s gonna be fine.”

Her silence is answer enough. She can’t promise him anything. It’s too early to tell, and she’s not going to lie to him, either, not when his wife and child’s life is in the balance.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Gemma admits, “but I will call you as soon—”

He hangs up before she can finish.

—

Rain thunders onto the broken concrete, a flash of lightning brightening the dull sky. Despite the rain, the earth nearly brimming with life, the hospital is dead. There’s not a soul going in or out. The lights flicker eerily in the corner of his eye. It’s four in the morning, so it’s not much of a surprise, but the sight of it being so lifeless just feels wrong.

His mind is moving quicker than the world can keep up with, it seems, and he feels like it goes against the laws of nature. It’s a strange feeling when you feel like you’re falling apart, but the world continues on; most people on the street wouldn’t bat an eye or even pay any notice to him as he’s deteriorating before their very eyes.

As irrational as it is, it feels wrong. It feels wrong that everyone else is able to go on while his life is crumbling.

He called Gemma when he landed, and there were still no updates on their condition. He broke dozens of traffic laws to get there, and now, he stands outside the entrance, still wearing his wool jumper from the day before, smelling like an airport, with rain soaking his hair. Droplets slip down his cheek and jaw, livening the dried tears from earlier, and they seep into his mouth; he can taste the salt.

He’s just staring at the flickering sign.

He can’t move.

Well, that’s not really it; he can move, he can feel, and he can see, but he doesn’t want to move.

How fucked up is that?

He doesn’t want to go inside. Despite all of his fears, and his longing for answers, and his need to see his family, he can’t move.

Because that would make everything real.

If he goes inside, if he pushes past those doors and sees the doctors, he can’t deny it anymore. When he goes inside, he has to face the very real possibility that he could lose his wife and daughter. He isn’t sure if he’s strong enough to handle it.

He’s being selfish. He knows that. He should be running inside, yelling at doctors and nurses to tell him what they’re doing about his family. He should be trying to do something, anything to see his wife and daughter.

But why is it so hard to move his feet?

And why does he still feel so numb?

He breathes in the cold air, burning his tender throat.

When he finally opens those doors, past the point of no return, he’s welcomed by a blinding light and the scent of antiseptic. The inside is just as lifeless, with dull white walls that leaves his head throbbing and dingy carpet that scrapes against his boots. He follows the signs, leading to the waiting room.

A new round of tears fills his eyes when he sees his mother’s familiar figure. He hasn’t wanted to just completely collapse into her arms, crying, in years, but now, he just wants to be in the comfort of her presence, to forget the world.

But he can’t, just like Jeff told him, he needs to stay strong, for them. He can’t shut down. He breathes out deeply, raises his head, and calls out for his mother.

Anne turns around, and when he sees Rhiannon pressed tightly to her chest, safe and sound, he feels more of his strength return, like he can breathe a little easier. He feels his knees weaken, but he keeps moving. He doesn’t feel quite so empty and broken and numb, a small ray of hope filling him for the first time in hours. He cups the back of her little head, thumb caressing the soft baby hairs. They’ve gotten thicker since the last time he saw her.

“She’s fine, Harry, just a little shaken up,” Anne says, smiling slightly.

His happiness is short lived when Gemma stands from behind Anne.

“Y/N’s in surgery right now. All we can do is wait,” she says, her eyes ringed with red, mirroring his own.

“Da,” Rhia says, and he smiles, a single tear running down his cheek. He wipes it and sniffles.

Y/N pretended to be upset when that was Rhi’s first word. She said it only hours before he had to leave. They were in their home, and Y/N was helping him lug his suitcases out of the bedroom when he heard it. It sounded like another babble, but it became clearer until—

“Da,” she squealed, bouncing in her little jumper chair. “Dada.” She hit a little plastic toy ring on the tray

“Y/N,” he called out for her and knelt down in front of his baby. She rushed out of the bedroom.

“What? Is something wrong?”

“Say it again, peach, show mummy,” he cooed, and Rhi repeated it, again and again, reaching for her father.

“I carry her around for nine months and feed her out of my tit,” Y/N whined, “and this is the thanks I get?”

They laughed, nevertheless. It was a bittersweet moment, as he looks back on it now. He was so happy that Rhiannon was growing and learning, but she was growing up too fast for his liking. He lifted Rhi up out of the chair and pressed a gentle kiss to her chubby cheek, tears stinging behind his eyes.

“She’s just daddy’s little girl. Aren’t ya, peach?”

She left a slobbery kiss, well, her version of a kiss (which was more tongue than lip) on his nose. He scrunched up his face, and her features pinched together in return, mimicking him.

“See, jus’ a little mini-me you are,” he said, tickling under her chin.

And when she called out to him after saying their final farewells in the airport, it made it even more difficult for him to leave.

Maybe it was a sign that he shouldn’t leave.

He should have listened.

He’s knocked back into the present when his baby girl looks up at him, eyes lit up with innocence, completely unaware of the dire situation they’re in. They’re not in their London home, and Y/N’s not there with him. His lips wobble, nose burning. His chest hurts, whether from unshed tears or from the thought of actually losing the love of his life, he doesn’t know.

He cups his baby girl’s cheek.

Rhia has Y/N’s eyes. He loves her eyes. When she first opened them, as he held her for the first time, bundled tightly in his arms, he cried big, fat tears until they were all dried up. He felt nothing but love for this little human because she was a perfect mixture of him and Y/N. He loves Rhiannon’s eyes, but now, they serve as nothing but a deathly reminder of his wife, who could possibly not survive these next few hours.

She gives him a gummy smile, her little tongue slipping out over her lips. There’s some white peeking through her gums, and his heart aches. He wipes some drool from her chin, and she reaches for him, but he backs away.

His stomach sinks, and he wants the ground to swallow him whole. His mother looks at him softly, not a shred of disappointment apparent on her face, as if she knew he wouldn’t be able to hold his own daughter. His throat closes.

How could he be so weak?

Rhia’s smile drips down, but she lays her head back on her Nana’s shoulder. Anne cups the girl’s head, wrapping the thinly woven blanket tighter around her; sadness and pity present in the air.

“‘M gonna check in with the nurse, see how Y/N’s doin’,” he whispers, backing away, and he stumbles down the hallway, following the signs until he sees the nearest nurse, clad in pale blue scrubs. Even though he’s sure the nurse expects him to look nothing less than distraught, he smooths down his clothes and clears his throat, trying to quell the cries building, lips quivering pitifully.

“Do you have any information on Y/N Styles?” His voice is watery and broken.

The nurse looks at him with sad eyes, warm and understanding, like his mother’s. How does everyone else know what he’s feeling besides himself?

“No, I’m sorry, sir,” she says, and he simply nods. He doesn’t have the energy to be upset or press her anymore. The heaviness on his chest building, he doesn’t even try to stop it anymore. He just wants to wallow, curl up and cry until he’s finally able to wake up from this nightmare. He hates the feeling like he’s just given up, accepted that Y/N may not come back from this.

He wants to fight, but all of the fight he has left him as soon as Jeff told him the news.

“Thank you,” he whispers, heading back to the waiting room. He sits down silently on the chairs next to Gemma, the worn wood squealing from the sudden weight. Anne paces in front of them, rocking Rhia back and forth, like she has been for the past few hours; call it a nervous tick or a mother’s instinct, but holding Rhiannon calms her.

Gemma glances at him in the corner of her eye, unsure of how to comfort him in such a situation. He can see her

“I can’t hold her, Gem,” he says weakly, and she looks at him, finding his gaze held on the small little bundle in their mother’s arms. She sighs. “What if—” There’s a bitter taste on his tongue. He covers his mouth with trembling hands, trying to push back the cries swelling in his chest.

“What if Y/N dies?”

It’s one thing to think about it, but saying it aloud breaks his heart in two.

Y/N has been a constant in his life for six years, and in that time, she became his rock, his shoulder to cry on, his stability, who held his heart so close to her. Then, he thinks about his baby girl, who has had her mother for barely seven months, just to have her ripped away so easily because of some drunk who didn’t know when to quit, and he thinks he’s going to be sick again.

It takes only one mistake to set off a series of irreversible events.

Exhausted, he doesn’t fight the sob that comes out, his shoulders shaking as more and more. He heaves for breath, curling into himself. Gemma wraps an arm around him, and he cries into her shoulder. He feels useless, sinking further into the endless pit in his mind. He’s never considered the possibility of Y/N never being there with him, holding his hand through the fire, and now that possibility is very real; he can’t face it.

When he’s run himself dry, he finally looks at her with red-rimmed eyes and swollen cheeks.

“If she dies, I dunno if I could even look at her,” he admits. “To see her eyes...” Gemma just listens. She knows that there’s nothing she could ever say to make the situation any better. She holds her brother’s hands tightly. “I should have been here,” he says, nodding softly.

“Harry, there’s nothing you could have done. It’s that prick’s fault, not yours,” she says angrily. She’s trying to keep calm, for everyone’s sake, but it’s difficult when it feels like her family is being torn apart.

“I would’ve been driving,” Harry insists. “I would be the one in there, not her, and they would’ve been safe.”

“You don’t know that,” Gemma argues softly. She’s never seen him like this before, but that’s to be expected in the situation they’re in. He’s normally such an optimistic person, and to hear him degrade himself is almost too much to handle.

“If she does make it—”

“When she makes it,” Gem snaps.

“She’s gonna hate me. I know it.”

“She has never blamed you for anything, not when fans gave her shit, not when paps would follow her, and especially not when you had to leave. There are some things that are simply out of our control, and she understands. She understands that you can’t be there all the time. She understands that this is your job, and your job has made you who you are today. She won’t blame you for this either, so don’t blame yourself.”

“You don’t understand,” he sighs. It’s true. She does not understand what he’s gone through. She doesn’t know what it feels like, but she knows that the damage is already done. There’s no use in looking back and analyzing everything to see what they could have done differently.

“I should’ve been here.”

“If only things were that simple.”

“Harry?” A shallow, unfamiliar voice speaks from behind him, making everyone raise their heads.

Anxiety spikes in his stomach. He wonders how anyone could have recognized him, since there is absolutely no one else in the hospital, and how insensitive they would have to be to come talk to him while he’s in such a state. Anger bubbles within him, his skin turning hot as he turns to face the woman.

The blood on her uniform makes him pause.

“My name is Leslie. I was one of the first people on the scene.”

“Do you know anything?” She shakes her head sadly.

“But I was with your wife in the ambulance. She wanted me to tell you that she loves you and…” She coughs, hesitation clear on her features. “And not to give up.”

She probably doesn’t realize how much he needed to hear those words because when he stands and tugs her into a hug, she tenses, hesitantly wrapping her arms around him. Again, like when he saw his baby girl, hope warms him, blanketing and strengthening him.

It’s like Y/N is speaking to him through her.

“Thank you,” he whispers, offering her a weak smile. Just as they part, an older woman rounds the corner. Everyone sits up a little straighter, the air becoming a little tenser, when she gets closer to them.

“She’s resting, now, but she should be up in a few hours,” the doctor smiles.

Harry wants to crumple to the ground as a weight lifts from his chest, and he can finally breathe. He’s run ragged, a broken cry slipping out of his blubbering lips. He tugs Gemma into his arms, who returns the embrace wholeheartedly. Such relief and warmth fills him that he can barely hear the doctor as she continues.

“There was some pretty severe internal bleeding, but we got her stabilized. She also had a couple broken ribs, nothing that time and care won’t heal. After we do some more tests, she should be released in about a week. I can show you to her room, if you’d like?”

“Yes,” Harry cries.

When they reach Y/N’s room, Harry pauses outside and turns to his mother. Her eyes, noticing the confliction in his eyes, are soft and understanding. He never thought about seeing her in such a state until now, but least she’s still with him, his little fighter, just like Rhi.

“Mum, can I, uh…” He nibbles on his lip, holding his arms out.

“Course,” Anne says, moving the baby in his open arms.

“Hi, peach,” he says, smiling. She sleeps contentedly, her features relaxed. His heart twinges as she burrows herself into his chest, and he wraps the blanket a little tighter around her.

“We’ll go to the cottage and get some extra clothes for you all,” Gemma says, knowing that Harry needs this time alone. She tugs her mother, who hesitates but soon follows.

He expected her condition to be poor, but that doesn’t stop the burning in his eyes when he sees her, hooked up to what seems like dozens of machines, her face swollen, and stitches along her hairline; she looks so fragile, so broken, but her heart beat is strong, breathing steady. As if sensing her father’s discomfort, Rhi burrows further in his arms, snuffling lightly.

He settles in a chair next to Y/N’s bed, one hand holding hers while the other arm cradles his baby.

“Gave daddy a scare earlier, peach,” he coos. “Daddy’s sorry that he wasn’t there with ya.”

He promises her many things, that she’s safe, that nothing will ever happen to her, and that her mum is safe, too, but most importantly, he promises to be there for her. He cries silently, careful to keep the tears and painful jolts of his chest from waking Rhi. He just can’t help it. After the dust settles and the smoke is cleared, the gravity of the situation weighs on him: he could have lost the two most important people in his life, and he would not have been there.

A nurse stops by to bring a bassinet for Rhiannon and to check on Y/N, who is doing wonderfully, especially after such an invasive surgery.

Y/N wakes after about an hour, just as the sun peaks beyond the horizon. Harry is still up, of course, watching his girls, finding comfort in the heart monitor. He pushes the bassinet back and forth with his foot.

“H?”

He beams when he hears her voice, gravely and worn, but it’s her voice nonetheless, comforting and warm. He wishes that he could hold her and kiss her until his love heals her wounds, but he has to settle for holding her hand and kissing her forehead for the time being.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs, tears slipping past her swollen eyes. “It happened so fast.”

“What are you sorry for, lovie? You did absolutely nothin’ wrong,” he says, brushing back her hair.

“You had to leave because I wasn’t being careful enough, and I—”

His heart aches, eyes glazing over. He hates that he made her feel like his job was more important than her.

“No, none of that,” he says, shaking his head. “That doesn’t matter. Listen, this was not your fault, and as far as tour goes, it’s not nearly as important as you two. I would drop everythin’ if you needed me to. There is nothin’ that I wouldn’t do for you. You know that, right? You both are my life, now; I made that promise the day we got married and the day she was born. You both are my number one priority, and I haven’t been treating you like it. For that, I’m so sorry.”

“Harry—”

“It was selfish of me to think that I could live in the past and the present, live the life that I used to while trying to be a father and a husband. It wasn’t fair of me, and I am so, so very sorry, babylove.”

He kisses her, careful of her bruises, and she sinks further into the bed, comforted by his warm words and tender touches. Her eyes, fluttering with exhaustion and filled with tears, refuse to close, as if she’s afraid that he’ll be gone by the time she wakes. He runs his thumb along her cheek, mindful of the swollen areas. For the first time in what feels like years, his mind is calm, basking in the feeling of happiness as he’s finally able to feel and see his family, safe and within his reach. That’s all he’s ever wanted, and as he sees her nodding off, he presses a quick kiss to her knuckles, whispering.

“Rest, lovie, I’ll be here. Don’t worry.”

She falls asleep with a faint smile.

Perhaps, fate isn’t cruel as many think. Just like anything, it can be merciful and loving for those who are worth mercy and love.

—