I've heard other folks with ADHD, when they're off their meds, they get hyper or distracted and so on. Me, however... I get so fucking tired it's not even funny. I will just proceed to sleep all day, without fail.

So guess who forgot their meds most of this morning and now has to deal with extreme exhaustion until their meds kick in :/

@sunat2508 × MIKASA ~ NATKASA

to my darling nat,

it seems so old school doesnt it? writing a letter to one's lover. i feel like one of those renaissance poets, about to burst into song and dance, prancing around and proclaiming my love for you. just imagine that would you? because i'm imagining it. i can picture twirling you around in some old fashioned ballroom, the both of us in the prettiest dresses. i'd hold you close to me, close enough to feel our breaths mixing.

i miss you so much nat, even though i only saw you the other day. you're always on my mind, and you always will be.

i know ive often struggled with my words but writing these weekly letters seem somewhat cathartic and relaxing. i really enjoy taking time out of my day, to sit down with a cup of tea and just write my thoughts and feelings down. i rather look forward to it actually. i even upgraded my setup ! the little cactus you bought me is staring at me as i write this. oh and ive decided to call it spike btw :))

now, onto more serious topics, i want you to know that i am so so proud of everything youve achieved and everything you will go onto achieve honey. i know you've been under a lot of stress lately with your exams and and your struggle with food, but the fact that you haven't given up yet is so important and im really proud of you for that ! keep fighting my sweet nat, and know that im here for you every step of the way.

things may be tough now, and i know it's hard to keep going sometimes, but it will all be worth it, trust me ! remember when we first became friends in the gym? we were both struggling to hit new PR's, but slowly but surely, with the help of time and lots and lots of hard work, we both did it ! when i saw you hit your new max, God, i felt like kissing you, but i settled for a hug instead. we weren't together at that time and i remember thinking and believing you didn't see me in that way.

how times have changed, we've known eachother for years and we're going to be moving in together soon ! i can't wait to wake up next to you, and fall asleep to the steady and symphonic beat of your heart !! i can hardly contain my excitement !!!

oh and one last thing before i go, give my love to hitoshi for me !! i cant wait till we move in together so we can both cuddle on the sofa 24/7 with hitoshi at our feet !! im literally counting down the days and im beyond excited !!

i can't wait to see you soon and shower you with cuddles and kisses ! also reply to my text nat, its been nearly 3 hours !!

with love,

your sweet angel mika <33

spell [2]. | corpse husband

part one ; part three

-> Pairing: Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

-> Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

-> Warnings: Hate Comments, Self Doubt, Anxiety, Cursing

-> A/N: thank you for 1k notes on part one! i’m so glad everyone likes my work. it’s really nice getting this much love after taking a hiatus on my fire emblem writing blog. i hope y’all enjoy it and stay on the lookout for part three!

corpse husband taglist is closed!

Two weeks.

It’s been two weeks since you joined Sean’s Among Us stream.

While that was your first public appearance, you had joined three others after that and already you were blowing up on almost every social media platform you had. The attention was kind of nice, you had to admit, but sometimes the anxiety of becoming a public figure weighed heavily on your shoulders.

During that time, you turned to your friends who were used to such scrutiny: Sean, Felix, and now Corpse, who you’ve been talking to every day for those two weeks.

It was another one of those nights where, at 1am, you were on Facetime with said man. His screen was dark, as usual. He hadn’t shown his face yet and you respected that. You didn’t need to see him to talk to him, or be his friend, or develop a slight crush on him. All of which you did.

The call was relatively silent on your end. Corpse was on Facetime with you, yes, but he was also on a call in Discord, once again playing Among Us.

You often wondered if playing that game was all your new friends did anymore.

You stayed quiet, letting Corpse play the game and avoiding his fans finding out about your call. You had college work to finish anyways, so the silence was rather helpful.

“We should ask Y/N if she wants to play. I wanna meet her.” Sykkuno’s voice rang out from the Discord call. He was right- you’d never met him. He and Corpse seemed extremely close, though, so you’d love to talk to him. A friend of your crush friend was a friend of yours.

“She’s busy tonight.” Corpse responded.

“Yeah, she’s got an exam coming up- wait, how do you know?” Sean joined in, questioning Corpse.

“Uh, I mean we’re on Facetime right now, I guess.” Your heart sped up- now his fans knew. “She’s studying. We’re just hanging out.”

“Didn’t you guys ‘hang out’ last night as well? It seems like you’re trying to take my best friend away from me.” Sean joked back.

“I mean, I definitely am.”

Your breath caught in your throat. What was that supposed to mean? Sean was obviously kidding, but the tone in Corpse’s voice wasn’t the one he used when he was joking as well.

Felix suddenly butted in. “Ooooh, I think Corpse-y has a little crush.”

“And if I do?”

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

꧁꧂

Three weeks, now, that you’ve been talking to Corpse daily.

One week since Corpse’s crush comment and one week that you’ve endured countless mentions and tags on Instagram and Twitter, constantly talking about #CorpseY/N.

You didn’t really mind the shipping, often losing yourself in daydreams about driving those two hours down from your apartment in Los Angeles down to San Diego and running into his arms. It didn’t help when he mentioned wanting you to come visit one day.

You just worried about how Corpse felt about them. He was still relatively new to blowing up on the internet as well, his fame suddenly skyrocketing in the past few months, so you weren’t sure if he was comfortable with them. You didn’t want to bring it up, either, fearing that the discussion would make things awkward between the two of you.

For now, you were rather content with just scrolling through the #CorpseY/N hashtag, looking at the pictures and nice things people had to say about you both.

“they’re so cute when they talk to each other, you can just tell Corpse meant it when he said he was trying to steal Y/N away.”

“#CorpseY/N is my new favorite thing. Everyone shut up this is all I’ll be talking about from now on.”

“God why can’t they just be together already? #CorpseY/N”

Everyone was so supportive and sweet, it almost made you feel like you already were Corpse’s girlfriend. Although your heart hurt when you were brought back to reality, you couldn’t help but love the comments that everyone left. They were amazing.

Until they weren’t.

There are always two sides of the same coin. Along from the supporters and their loving actions, there were also those who seethed at the idea of you and Corpse.

They scrutinized everything about you to the point that you made your Instagram account- already with 30k followers- private.

Haters talked about you. Your body, your personality, how you weren’t worthy to even talk to Corpse and the rest of the Youtubers, and so much more. You’ve spent many nights with your Facetime mic muted so that Corpse couldn’t hear the small sobs coming from you.

These thoughts were almost always on the back of your mind, but you were sometimes able to push them away.

Like now- as you focused on your exam. Well, tried to focus. There comes to be a time where one can only hear so many negative things about themselves before they can’t ignore it anymore.

But alas, you tried your hardest and finished your exam, before walking out of the room and pulling out your phone. Now, you had a break before your new classes started and you’ve never been more relieved. You pulled up a certain contact and clicked on the message icon, beginning to type.

you:

i’m finished! up next, a break.

corpse:

I hope you did well. How long is your break?

you:

two weeks!

corpse:

Come spend it in San Diego

You stopped in your tracks, taken aback by the offer. You really didn’t think that he’d invite you over, but you weren’t about to complain. Instead, you sent back an ‘I’ll pack tonight :)’ and rushed home to do just that.

Corpse called you as you packed, just like he calls every night. You were used to the routine now, often falling asleep around 3am as he stays on the phone, doing whatever he does with his ruined sleep schedule until you wake up and say good morning.

Tonight, however, you were too jittery to sleep. You stayed up all night with Corpse, talking about anything and everything, like usual.

What wasn’t usual, though, was how distracted he sounded. It made you nervous- was he having second thoughts about inviting you over? Was something wrong?

Your thoughts nearly overwhelmed you, forcing you to say something.

“Are you okay, Corpse?” You tried to hide the small shake in your voice.

“Hm? Uh, yeah, yeah, everything’s good. Why?”

“It doesn’t sound like it. What’s going on? You’re acting off.”

His side of the phone was silent for a moment, before he let out a sigh. “I’m just thinking about what I’ve got to do before you get here tomorrow. Like, cleaning and stuff.”

“Pshh, that doesn’t matter to me.” You waved your hand, even though he couldn’t see it in the darkness of your room.

“It’s just that, my apartment isn’t… the best. It’s small and there’s only one bedroom and it’s kind of shitty. I just don’t want it to be even more shitty.”

“Corpse, I’m coming there to spend time with you, not your apartment. I don’t care what any of that shit looks like. I’m going to be looking at you and hanging out with you. Not your apartment.” You didn’t mean to go on a tangent of reassurance, but you truly meant all of your words. “Hell, I might not even see the apartment because I already know I won’t be able to look away from you.”

“I- God, give me a minute. That took me off guard.” He laughed. “But thank you. I may not even be able to clean because I’ll be distracted too.”

“By what?”

“You, standing in front of me, in person.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “That’s a fucking dream come true.”

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taglist: @namjoons-crabssss @lookingforaplacetosleep @teenloves @princess00wifi @pillowjj @nvm-idgaf @creativedogs @wildflowerwhore @chillininahottub-withaghost @whyisquill @holosexualunicorn7000 @ourheavenlyemotions

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Tender - Azriel x reader - Pregnancy fic. Fem! reader. LONG!!! 

Prompt -  Hi! I just read most of your imagines, and i loved them!  You have me as your faithful follower, I don't comment much because English is not my first language. Could you write one where az manages to perceive that reader is pregnant right in the middle of the war?

You woke to yelling. Not screaming. Not fear or pain, but battle cries that you'd grown to love. They made your blood sing in harmony with the Illyrian voices. It made your heart hammer in your chest, and your muscles tense - ready to fight. Azriel groaned beside you, curling around your waist like a vise. You managed to break free from his muscled arms. Pale light shining through the tent tinted his shadows a light gray. They wrapped around you, drawing a chill down your spine. The war cries grew louder. "Get up. It's time." You shook him, pulling on your light armor. He covered his face with his hands, and did not leave the cot. He groaned again when you pulled the blanket off his mostly naked body. He was never a morning person.  Cassian rushed in when you were putting the last of your gear on, and Az froze. His grip on his pants went white knuckled. Cassian's face was pale, and before he could say anything Azriel was hurriedly pulling on the rest of his clothes. Your stomach dropped at the sight of the Warlord. "It's a diversion." You said, voice hollow. Cassian's slight nod was enough to make the breath leave you. "It's going to be fine." Azriel grunted, pulling his tunic over his head. "We just need to move the troops. Get Rhys here." He waved a hand at his brother dismissively.  Cassian grabbed Az's wrist.  He forced the male to look at him, to see his worried eyes. You tensed, ready to defend your mate even against Cassian's might. "Rhys is on the battlefield already. We're on our own." His voice was low, and the warning in his eyes was enough to make the hair on your arms raise. Azriel pulled away from him, slowly.  He began strapping his weapons belts on, pushed his hair back and sighed. "Where do you need us?"   The air was cold, and the howls of battle echoed across the hills. Azriel's shadows curled around your legs, comforting. Then they slithered their way across the valley where the battle was beginning.  + You could barely raise your sword by the end of it. The mud had been the most challenging part of the entire fight. The enemy horses had done a good job of making obstacles when they fell in the mud, lame with broken ankles and necks. You wished to put them out of their misery, but there was no time. The forces seemed to come in waves. Like a test against your small unit.  Few were lost from your side. The dewey grass steamed in the morning light, carrying up the reek of enemy blood with it. You wiped your face, trying to get the taste of dirt and blood out of your mouth. Sharp stinging pain seared your ribs under your arm. You hissed. Then, you felt the warmth of your own blood. You swore, and looked for a medic that wasn't tending to wounded on the ground.  Some Illyrian bodies were being lifted away, high into the air for burial at their homes. You dared not take a healer away from more critically injured soldiers. You nodded grimly to the ones that you passed. They were covered in blood, and yet still gave you fierce grins when you went by. They respected you. More than any other Illyrian Female before you. It was sad, but you hoped to forge a new path for other females of Illyria. You held an arm under your side and limped your way out of the mud. The packed mess inside your boots made moving your feet hard. You couldn't wait to shower.  You spotted Cassian far down the field, and watched as he raised his sword high over his head. Your stomach twisted in pity for the suffering animal under him. You looked away before you could see the lifeblood drain from the horse's neck. He sent a blessing to the Mother for the animal, and continued on to the next suffering soul that would meet its end via his blade.  + You hadn't seen her in a long while. Too long for a friend, but she gave you that same look she always did when she saw you hobbling up to her for help. Jeva was your favorite healer, and one you knew could keep a secret. She was round, and her voice was light and comforting. She smelled of nutmeg and berries. Something you had appreciated about her since you had met. "What is it this time?" She waved you inside, holding the tent flap open for you while you dumped your battle stained gear on the wood hutch beside the entrance.  The tent was light and airy, filled with small plants of different varieties and cluttered with boxes and books everywhere. Her desk and bed were shoved to the corner, and a long wood table took up the majority of her area. As if she had known you were coming, she already had potions of different types laid out on the end of the table. "Probably nothing." You said, pulling off your armor as gingerly as you could manage. The soft light flickered and changed to a harsh beam when she laid you down on her exam table. "I'm not supposed to be healing anymore you know. I'm retired." She clicked her tongue at you, earning a pained grin. It was hard for you to bother a healer for any amount of time for something that you were sure was so small. But something about it stung too much for it to be just a scrape. And you knew Cassian would lecture you about it being infected if he saw through your mask to the pain. Az would force you to see one anyway as soon as he learned of it.  "You know I wouldnt be here unless I had to be, Jeva." You said through your teeth as she cut away your muddied undershirt.  "Oh, I know. That's why I have my best potions ready." She laughed, then paused. Your shirt lay limp on the table. Her eyebrows knitted together at the sight of your open wound. "Is it bad?" You asked, craning to try to look for yourself. She held you down.  "Metal. Fragments are still in here, likely why it hasn't healed yet." You relaxed at that, grateful that it wasn't worse. "Thank the Mother. Az would have yelled all night." You rolled your eyes, and sighed as she started working on you. The first part was always the worst. The stinging hot potion that made the nerves around the wound numb.  "One-" She began her countdown, then poured. You growled at her, gripping the end of the stained table hard enough to crack. "Easy..." She warned, and smoothed down your hair. She knew how to take care of her patients, that was certain. You relaxed as the stinging eased. The dull ache that it left behind turned into a bad memory.  "I'm going to extract the blade then we can close you up. Simple and easy." She picked up her tools and began tugging away at your side. You could have fallen asleep with the relief the numbing potion brought. And with her humming in the air around you, it was a struggle not to. The time seemed to pass quickly, but when the clank of the metal tools jolted you from your dozing, the tent was lit in orange from the sunset outside. "Relax, we're going to close it up now. Once the potion wears off you will still be sensitive." She placed her hands over you, and the familiar warm vibrations of her healing magic set in. Then it stopped abruptly. You cracked open an eye, then narrowed your brows at her. "What is it?" You said gently, then again when she didnt reply. She stared at you, mouth agape. Her eyes locked to yours, even when you sat up to demand she tell you what the problem was. "Am I dying?!" you took her hand gently, in case she was going to push you away.  Then she started laughing, her hand gripping yours back. The warmth glowed in your palm, the light radiating out from it was starkly contrasting the tent walls bedecked in orange. The light she emitted shot through you, and you felt the wound tingle, and seal. You stared at her in shock. That amount of healing power was incredible. Especially for field medics.  "Youre not dying, no..." She waved a hand, fanning herself. Her eyes were glassy with tears. She sniffed and clutched your hand tighter. "Quite the opposite, darling." She pulled you in for a warm hug.  + You spent the rest of the evening with Jeva. Until she got a hurried message about student healers needing help on the battlefield. You stayed in her tent as long as you could manage with the ringing in your ears. You stared and stared at the mirror across from you, showing you the bloodied warrior that you wanted to be. That you wanted to stay.  The warrior that carried the Shadowsinger's child.  The thought made tears sting your eyes. You refused to let them fall. You had been ignoring his tugs down the bond for well over an hour. You knew he was concerned, but you couldn't bring yourself to shout back down. The only thing that echoed in your mind were Jeva's words "You're pregnant..."  Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.  You nearly punched her when she told you she wasn't joking. The only reason you even believed her was because of that powerful zap of healing she sent to you. That she sent to scan your body and make sure the fetus was okay before you even knew about it. You could barely hear half the words she said as she told you your options.  You roiled with the thought now. The Mugwart she left on the table was daunting. You desperately wanted her back. Jeva would be able to deliberate with you. You knew she would tell you to do whatever makes you happy. You knew that. But you wondered how ethical the choice that made you happy was. Bringing a child into a world of war seemed cruel. Even if it made you happy. You distantly noticed Azriel as you passed him, walking to the forest edge just passed your tent. Worry laced the bond between you. You tried not to show anything back. But you knew he felt the tension, the void there. "Where the hell have you been?!" Azriel's eyes were furious when you passed him, his wings flared out slightly. You couldnt even look at him with anger back. Your emotions ran wild. You were frozen, and as numb as the potion Jeva had given you when she began removing the blade.  "Do you know how worried I have been?! I sent Cassian to-" He tried to grab for your hand to stop you, but you flicked him away. He stopped for a moment, stunned. Then returned with more energy than before. That yawning abyss in your bond was growing darker with shame, worry and anxiety. His shadows roiled around him as he caught up. "You dont get to-" "Azriel..." You stopped in the edge of the clearing. The small meadow was silent in the darkness, not even the monsters of Prythian dared roar tonight. Your mind did all the roaring you could handle, anyway. You tried to focus on the swaying grass, on the soft smell of wet bark and pine hanging in the air.  "Dont try to excuse this I need to know you're okay and-" He stormed in front of you, ready to burst with rage. His fear always made him angry. And for good reason after losing so many close to him.  A tear ran down your cheek, your face burned hot with hundreds of feelings at once. Fear, pain, shock, joy, hope.... elation. You wanted his children. You wanted to help raise his child. You wanted to see Azriel be a father. You knew he would be the best damn Illyrian father there had ever been.  The thought hit you like a well placed punch.  He saw your paleness, your tears and stopped his yelling. You fell to your knees, the mud splattering all around you. You wanted to lay down. Lay down and think about the implications of carrying his child. Would it be good for the baby to be born at all? Just because you wanted it didnt mean it needed to happen. You knew that Jeva would give you a potion to extract it without hesitation if it was what you wished. "I'm-" You choked out, fighting the panic that flooded you. Your mind roiled with the conflict of your mind and heart. It turned you into a muddied, dark ocean on the bond. A turmoil that he couldn't see past. If you were an ocean, he was your lighthouse on the cliffside. Signaling you home.   His eyes darted to your body, to your hands and how they wrung together in front of you. "I'm sorry. I just-" He sighed and took one of your hands. "I'm sorry." He kissed the back of it and brought his forehead to yours. He normally needed a lot longer to cool down after a fight, but seeing you in tears shocked him out of his pride. "I shouldn't have said that... I know you can take care of yourself." his voice was low, and he ran a hand comfortingly down your back. A hysteric laugh bubbled from your throat. It sounded like a sob. You didn't know exactly which it was. He sat back and pulled you into his lap, despite the grass being dewey and damp. He rocked you there for a few seconds before you had to tell him. Before he could be too close if he didnt want you anymore. The doubt crept into your head, and the nerves ate at you. Your heart raced, you could feel it in your neck. "Azriel..stop." You pushed away from him, to catch his beautiful dark eyes. They were painted in a silver hue by the moon above. You took in his face, the curve of his cheeks and lips for possibly the last time. You had to consider the worst possible outcome. You braced yourself for the rejection, for the pain of his reaction. You knew it had to come out. You knew you had to say it now or you never would. Your stomach flipped over and over.  You opened your mouth, a soft sob wracking out of you before you began. He froze. Went utterly still, his shadows even stopping for a second before whirling faster than before. Your eyes went wide. His nose flared, eyes narrowed. He held you closer, sniffing at your neck. He pulled back and his eyes were even wider than before. His mouth fell open when you nodded. "I'm-" "Youre-" his face went through a whirlwind of different emotion. Then, he broke out into a small laugh. He couldn't stop. You felt the tears running down your cheeks and didnt bother to wipe them away. "Honey... I'm sorry." He stopped laughing suddenly. "What do you want to do?" His eyes were masked, his expression the most serious you'd ever seen him. His aura on your bond seemed to go completely gray and still, as if he didn't want you to see him. He masked everything. In preparation for whatever you decide. The gesture made your heart squeeze in appreciation. You stammered, resting your forehead on his. "I dont know." You muttered, voice cracking. Then, he was wrapping his arms around you in a smothering hug. When he pulled away, he cradled your face in his hands. The hands that had seen so much cruelty in his life. The possibilities of the same thing happening to your child made your heart race. "I'm here for whatever decision you make." He brushed your cheek with a thumb. You nodded and let him hold you like that for a while. Quietly rocking back and forth with you in his lap. + You were near falling asleep when the war cries rang out again. Illyrians howling for their leaders to join them. Another onslaught of death coming their way. The calls were distant, but Azriel tensed the second he heard them. Your blood went cold. He buried his face to your chest, as if he wished he could hide there. "I'm not going." He said when you tried pushing him away. "I wont leave you." He promised, locking his muscled forearms around you. The echoes of battle cries faded. He stroked your hair, and traced his fingers along your back. Then he swore. "Let me take care of this." He said, voice edged with anger. Nerves pricked at your stomach, but you stood, wobbling on your feet slightly. He took off into the night sky painted in silvers and blues by the full moon. Then came racing back down right behind Rhys. the high lord took one breath and then he was hugging his brother. Azriel shoved him off, and they shot into the night sky. Well, Azriel did. He dragged Rhys with him. Grunts of pain and fleshy sounds of punching rang out.  You followed them high into the air where they had their conversation. Your wings led you around them with ease. "Stop fighting and use your words, boys." You warned. You recognized Azriels growl and smiled to yourself as they broke apart. Rhys adjusted his tunic and cleared his throat. "I need you there. Cassian is handling the Western front, the others need a leader."  Azriel began protesting against the high lord. "I cant with my mate-" "I know it feels impossible right now but-" "I will not, Rhys-" You set your jaw. If they wanted to fight over if you needed protection or not, you would take the option off the table all together. "I'll go." you said, voice strong since hearing Jeva announce what grew inside you. Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. You shoved the thoughts away as far as you could. They both turned to you, horror striking Azriels features. "Absolutely not. No." Heat and rage flared down the bond. It made you want to defy everything he said. You locked eyes with him and glared. Rhys glanced between you with tense shoulders. He cleared his throat. "It would be a good compromise, Azriel. You can go together to the Eastern front. Think about it." He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and gave him a grim smile.  "I wont say a word." He said, summoning the darkness around him then winnowing away. Azriel's cold eyes made him look like a statue. "Let's go." He said, and started circling lower. Back to the meadow.  "I'm going, you cant stop me from following you." You said, expecting a fight. He said nothing. You were met with that silence that drove others crazy tryin to find out what he wanted from them. The bond seemed to snap taut, then go into a relaxed state. He was hiding. You knew it, but would rather have silence and peace than him trying to fight you again.  He walked you back to the tent, and exhaustion took you under before you could remember him laying down with you. You hoped it it was exhaustion, and not whatever the baby was doing to you. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't resist the urge to cradle your belly while you slept. There was no bump, but it felt like the most natural thing to do now that you were aware of the being inside you. You slept hard, and awoke to the breakfast bell chiming. The sounds of slow footsteps marching through the mud kept you awake. Azriel was gone, but the candle on the table was lit. A note lay there waiting for you. His messy scrawl made you smile, the familiarity of his writing reminded you of the notes he would leave you when he had to leave early for meetings with Rhys. "Back by nightfall, lover. A guard is at the tent, ask her to bring you anything you need. -A" You peeked outside the tent to see Jeva there, her long fur coat shimmering in the morning light. Her breath clouded in front of her when she gave you a soft smile. "Good morning." She pulled a muffin from her coat. "Your favorite." She winked, and you pulled her inside. She had a fire roaring by the time you finished your food. "How are you not freezing?" She complained, blowing into her hands to keep them warm. You brushed the crumbs from your shirt and really took into account the changes you'd noticed lately. How hungry you'd been, how tired after the easiest days.  "Do you know... How um..." You gestured to your stomach. She gave a small smile and nodded. "Only a month or so." She said quietly. You stared at your stomach, as if waiting for something to answer you. To give some sort of affirmation that Jeva was right. She continued warming herself by the fire, and soon the tent was filled with her warm chestnut smell. Cassian entered the tent when you were starting to doze off again. The wool blanket on your lap reminded you of a time when you first met Az. Your heart squeezed at the memory of those long nights shared together by a fire. Taking your turns on watch duty. You shook yourself from the memory. Cassian froze. His face scrunched up at the sight of you. The scent, you realised. You swore to yourself, and Jeva only nodded when he looked to her. "Youre pregnant?" He asked breathlessly, and you could smell the fear and excitement coming from him. In fact, you could smell the smoked meat on his breath. And the cold air that clung to him from outside. It was refreshing, like a cool drink on a hot day amid the dry heat inside the tent. "I'm sorry, I shouldnt have.." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to remain focused.  "Its okay, Cass. What's going on? Az left me this note." You handed it to him. His lips moved as he read it. He went white as bone. Your stomach dropped.  + Azriel had gone in the night to take out the entire eastern flank with a small group of Illyrians. You felt your world skittering away as Cassian told you. Your vision went blurry, and tears fell, dripping on your hands that clenched the wool blanket.  "He's on his way here now. He had to answer to Rhys first."  Cassian waited for you to say anything. But your lips just couldnt form the words. The hurt, anger... the betrayal you felt for him going to battle without you. And defying a direct order from his high lord like a fool. "I suggest you leave before Azriel comes back. It may get messy." Jeva spoke for you, and you were grateful. You gave Cassian a nod of thanks before he turned and left. The cold wind that blew in from the door gave you goosebumps.  "Take it easy, you dont want to be too stressed." Jeva handed you a mug of tea and gave you a small squeeze. You could smell Azriel before he entered. Jeva shot him a glare, but said nothing. "I'll be in my tent if you need me." She promised, gave you a look that said 'find me after' and left. Azriel took off his armor plates one by one. A bit too slowly to be considered normal. Stalling. You said nothing. You let the tension roil out of you, let it hit him down the bond. Like a wave getting ready to break. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his wings.  The mask he wore cracked when he saw your fists balled in the blanket. "I couldnt risk you... or the babe." He tried to hide the fear that shone through. The fear of his mate or child being hurt in battle. He wouldnt be able to stand it. The fight was needed, anyway. He needed to get out his instincts to protect protect protect.  You said nothing. You let that looming wave grow larger. He sighed, and sat at the end of the cot beside you. "I'm sorry. I needed....I needed to get my head straight. I should have told you. I'm sorry." That wave crashed, not on him though. Internally, guilt and fear melting in on yourself. "I cant lose you, we... We cant." You said through your teeth, trying to hold back the tears that begged to spill over. He tried his best to hold back his surprise. "We?" He asked, a small smile playing on his full lips.  You gave him a grim smile. "If you're...ready to be a father. I like imagining you, with my child."  "Our child." He said with a bubbling laugh. You laughed with him, and it turned to hysterics.  He wiped tears from the corner of your eyes. "We're going to have a baby?" He cradled your face, looking into your eyes. You took one of his hands, and placed it on your flat belly. "Yes. We are." You said, voice quivering.  He wrapped you into a hug, and you cried together in the cot. 

She Truly Was || Muzan Kibustsuji x F!Reader

Summary: Enmu helps Muzan remember you.

SFW // Fluff with small amounts of Angst

Word Count: 4626

WARNINGS: *slight Mugen Train spoilers*, slight mentions of implied sexual activity, obsessive(?) behavior, Muzan is soft for one person only, some angst, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, I also barely proofread this lol

A/N: I've had this in my head for a while and decided to write it down. This is largely just a compilation of scenarios I made in my head to fall asleep at night when I was stressing over exams and stuff, all loosely thrown together with a plot. This is my first time writing for demon slayer, so please be patient! I also am basing a lot of my info about the characters on s1 of the anime, some of the manga, and the wiki. I apologize if something isn't accurate. tldr; I just think he's neat.

~~

Despite having lived through thousands of years with hundreds of stormy nights in the midst, Muzan Kibutsuji never learned to appreciate them.

Something about nights like those in Japan just never sat right with the demon. It wasn't that they were too dreary, not at all. Life as a demon was plenty dreary. On the other hand, it wasn't that they were to lively either. No one ever went out on stormy nights; demon or not. Perhaps it was just because the rain was another reminder of the singularity that was being a demon. The poignant pitter patter just seemed to have a way of whispering to whoever heard it, telling them the most unpleasant yet quiet truths of their lives.

After Muzan's bloody meeting with the lower moons, he had told Enmu his task Muzan had planned for the pitiful, weaker demon. Although he had doubts that Enmu could hear him over the sound of the weaker demon's screams of pain from the blood he gave, Muzan was pleasantly surprised when Enmu understood the orders the first time around. Seeing as though it would cause trouble if the lower moon started to go around bragging about his newfound power and job, Muzan decided it would be best to keep a crimson eye on the demon.

This is what led to the scene before Muzan now.

Muzan had taken Enmu back to one of his many properties scattered across Japan, this one being tucked away in a lush, quiet forest in the middle of seemingly nowhere. The lower moon had not said a word throughout the entire journey there, and still refused to say anything now. Most likely out of fear.

Although it had been a long day of wrangling the lesser worms he called pawns (or "moons" if he was generous), Muzan did not want to show any weakness towards Enmu by resting. To busy himself, Muzan decided to do the tedious work the humans have him do in the job he took to please his human wife.

That insufferable woman.

With his bowler hat placed on his desk, Muzan had taken a seat in his large, leather chair, ordering Enmu to stand at the edge of the desk and face the opposite way. And, for extra edge, he was not to say or do anything.

It had been about two hours since then. The room was filled with only the sounds of Muzan's writing and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Although he ordered it to be that way, Muzan was already sick of it.

Peering his red eyes up from the papers scrawled below him, Muzan fixated his bone-chilling gaze upon the back of Enmu's head. Muzan could see the corners of the lower moon's mouth turned upwards as he faced the wall, presenting himself with an expression of dumb content.

Freak.

Enmu was definately a curious specimen. So eager to die, yet so eager to please Muzan. The demon lord would have been confused if he were not who he was.

Perhaps it was his own boredom setting in, perhaps it was because he wanted to feed his already gargantuan ego, or perhaps it was just because he was tired, Muzan decided to speak up.

"Tell me," Muzan said, his deep, smooth voice making Enmu perk up slightly, "Why is it that are you so loyal to me?"

Enmu took this as an opportunity to finally move, but not without some caution. The lower demon only turned his neck towards Muzan, along with a tilt of his shoulder. Muzan noted the disobedience of orders, but decided to let it slide this time.

The rain must have told him to be generous that night.

"Why, Master Kibustsuji," Enmu said, a faint blush adorning his cheeks, "It is because I am so delighted to be in your presence, and have my power be of service to you."

The demon lord felt his jaw clench at this, his red eyes peering up at the lower moon from under his abyssal lashes. Although Enmu had an... odd, way of putting things, Muzan always did like it when someone stroked his ego, even if all they ever said was the same banter over and over again. He was nearly perfection, afterall.

Muzan sat quietly and pondered Enmu's response for a second, before formulating his own.

"Your power, as you put it," Muzan said, his voice firm, "What is it?"

Enmu's grin widened, "Dream Manipulation, Master. I can enter, manipulate, or control anyone's dreams however I want to. I can use it to kill from the inside, eating a person spirit first and body second. I can also put people to sleep."

Muzan wasn't necessarily impressed by this, but he wasn't disappointed either. An ordinary power, really. Nothing that could ever rival his own.

However...

Muzan's gaze flickered down to the surface of his desk. A flicker of a long lost yet not forgotten feeling bubbled deep inside of his being. A mere spark of light, really, a piece of warmth he felt from long ago, lost to the wayside by the vestiges of time.

It was something Muzan thought he would never experience again.

Dream manipulation, huh?

It might be worth a try.

Muzan looked back up to Enmu, sharpening his gaze, "Tell me, are you able to give... pleasant dreams?"

Enmu was surprised to hear this come from Muzan to say the absolute least. He took this as another opportunity to disobey orders and turn to Muzan again, this time fully and whole-heartedly. The lower moon looked right into those blood red eyes, looking for any sign of a rare flicker of humor or joking.

Muzan's gaze was serious, poised as ever.

Muzan was being for real.

Taking a pause to swallow, Enmu allowed his soft smirk to return to his gray, pale face.

"Why," the lower moon retorted, "I can, Master, yes."

Muzan eyed the lesser demon for a good second at his response.

This move was risky. It could damage his image. Yet, if he was to do this with any of his pawns, he would do it with Enmu. Enmu seemed to have no intent on harming Muzan or his image in any way; he was far too loyal for that.

Besides, if someone were to question the might of Muzan, he could just prove them wrong.

Muzan leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and lacing his fingers together, wrapping them around his knee. His icy gaze still on Enmu, he spoke again.

"I wish to see a pleasant dream."

Muzan nearly rolled his eyes when he saw just how wide Enmu's grin had gotten and just how flushed his face got.

It was repulsive.

But, if it meant what Muzan thought it would mean...

It was worth stomaching.

After a breif moment used to compose himself, Enmu's smile faded to normal again. He pulled up the sleeves to his coat.

"I will give you a dream where you will experience the happiest days of your life over again, Master Kibutsuji," the lower moon stated, "Is this to your liking or would you prefer something else?"

"No," Muzan stated flatly, "That is fine."

Perfect, even.

Enmu smiled widely one last time, holding out his arm and pointing it at the demon lord.

"Sweet dreams, my lord." Was the last thing Muzan heard before falling into a deep, deep sleep.

~~

"Muzan..."

Despite his blood demon art being so much weaker than his, Muzan wasn't quite ready for just how Enmu put him into a dream like that. Muzan's headache had grown ten-fold now, and he could feel that his face was scrunched.

"Muzan..."

Slowly but surely regaining his full consciousness, Muzan could first feel that he was in different clothes than what he had been wearing before. These ones were lighter, softer, and much more airy than his normal suit. Squinting open his crimson eyes, he saw that he was in what appeared to be a long, dark, flowing kimono.

The second thing Muzan could feel was that it was rather cool where he was, and that he appeared to be lying on the ground. Sifting his weight slowly, he could then feel that his head was lain upon what felt like two soft, plush pillows firmly squished together.

The third thing, however, took him a little longer to discern quite that it was. At first, he thought it was a pair of chopsticks running across his scalp over and over again. Upon, further thought, however, Muzan was further snapped back into awareness.

Those were not chopsticks.

Those were fingers.

All too familiar fingers.

"Muzan..!"

Muzan felt a stir deep down inside of him. He recognized this feeling, this touch, this warmth. It had been so, so long since he had felt like this. How long was it again? It had to be an eternity ago. An eternity wrapped within all time time in the world.

Muzan was speechless. Muzan couldn't move. Muzan was struck from deep within, and nothing in the world could ever compare to its blow.

"Muzan!"

Although the calling of the demon's lord name had been going on for some time now, he was just now able to respond.

Tilting his chin upwards towards the voice's source, Muzan nearly fell to bits right then and there. If he was someone else, he would have wept deep, earnest tears at the very sight of the being above him. For everything and nothing surrounded him as he studied the bright, radiant face above him, and nothing else seemed to exist other than that smile.

Other than her.

Her.

Oh, her, her, her.

His beloved. His sun, moon and stars. The ground beneath his feet and the air around him. His joy and love, his woes and sorrow. His fears and excitement. His warmth and his cold.

You.

You were really here.

"I was wondering if you were ever gonna wake up," you said, a faint laugh behind your voice, "You were out for so long!"

This scene was all too familiar to Muzan. He had replayed it in his head countless times, as if it were the only record left in the world.

He knew what this day was, and he knew all of your lines.

How could he ever forget?

Every moment he had ever spent with you had been a blessing.

Right now, his head was cradled in your lap, your soft, delicate fingers combing through his hair oh so gently as he had slept. It was deep into the night, and ordinarily Muzan would not be sleeping at this time. However, your touch was just so relaxing to him.

Everything about you was.

Today, you and him had spent the night wandering through the garden of your home together, chatting about anything and everything. It was only about two months into your relationship with Muzan. Muzan had first come to your home with the intention of eating everyone within the residence, but once he saw your face, watched you, saw your heart, your spirit, your you, he just couldn't.

He just...

couldn't.

You were human, yes.

But Muzan didn't care.

He was in love with you.

Muzan had yet to tell you the truth about him, however.

But that could come later.

"Muzan, are you alright?" He heard your voice echo again, snapping him out of his trance. He saw your face painted with worry, making his own features soften.

His darling angel. If only you knew just how much it pained him to see you with anything other than a smile.

Muzan reached his hand upwards, steadily maneuvering his fingers to brush your hair behind your ear and cup your warm cheek. He was shocked at how real you felt, shocked at just how similar it felt to all those years ago.

Perhaps Muzan had to give Enmu a reward.

The demon lord caressed your cheek gingerly with his cold, calloused thumb, savoring in just how warm your flesh was compared to his. For the first time in what felt like eons, Muzan felt a smile adorn his handsome features. Not one put on just to appease the humans around him, but genuine. The type of smile only you got to see.

Only you.

"I'm more than alright, my darling." He responded, his voice soft and warm, without the normal venom he gives to his subordinates. A voice reserved restrictively for you.

Finally, you let a soft grin come over your heavenly face again, making all seven of Muzan's hearts swell.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up," you said, "But it's about to be dawn soon. I don't want you to get a burn, so let's go in the house again, okay?"

Ah yes, the lie Muzan told you. He, of course, couldn't be with you in the sunlight (as much as he wanted to). So he had told you that he had a rare disorder that made him extra prone to sunburns and heatstroke.

Just something to keep you safe from the truth.

His soft smile still adorning his features, Muzan gave you a nod as he slid his head off of your lap. Since you were on your knees, you were quicker to stand than him. Brushing off your kimono quickly, you offered one of your hands to Muzan to help him stand, of which he gladly took. He had long since forgotted just how perfectly your hand fit into his, along with how radiant your kimono made you look.

Once he was back on his feet, Muzan couldn't help but to hold your arms, holding you a few feet away from him to simply admire you for a moment, his crimson eyes doing laps around your face and body.

You were perfect to him.

Every single thing about you was without flaw in his eyes. Not one curve of your body was too shallow or too wide. Not one strand of your hair was misplaced or without poise. Not one feature on your face took away from your radiant beauty. And you had not one bad bone inside of your body.

Muzan was never one to believe in angels.

However, if anyone in any part of the world were to tell him that you were one of them, straight from the heavens themselves,

He would believe them.

~~

As soon as Muzan stepped through the door, his hand in your own, the scene before him changed in one giant, peaceful flash of white light.

Before him now was no longer the house that he had shared with you all those years ago. Now, in its place, was a beautiful, lush springtime garden, all dredged under the cover of the night. It was not devoid of light, however. There were a few lanterns afloat in the water of the stream, as well as some within the structure of the small bridge that went over top of it. Flowers adorned every nook and cranny of the space, and the occasional insect or bird would make a brief appearance.

A small slice of paradise, just for you and Muzan Kibutsuji.

Fearing that you were no longer by his side, Muzan turned his head. His fears were quickly subsided when he saw you there next to him. Your delicate hands were placed on the railing of the bridge, and your eyes were fixated on the calm water below, almost as if it were a window into the heavens above. There was a small smile plastered on your face, and the delicate lights illuminated each of your features so perfectly.

Muzan knew this night.

This was the night he told you the truth.

The truth about him, about his "condition", about where he went for days on end, about why he couldn't walk with you in the sun, about everything.

This was the one night Muzan had ever felt fear.

"Is it really true, Muzan?" You asked, your gaze still fixated on the water below, "Are you really a demon?"

Muzan felt his lips part in small surprise. Even though he had replayed this night time and time again in his mind, it felt as if this were all happening for the first time over again.

Enmu really was good at this.

Muzan wet his lips before responding, setting his gaze on your precious, beautiful face and refusing to move it, "Yes, my love. It is true. I would not lie to you about this, I..."

A pause to collect this thoughts, before he could continue, "I kept it from you to protect you, (Y/N). I did not want any harm to come to you. My darling, I... I love you. My love for you knows no bounds. You are the stars that shine at night, and you are the shining moon above. Each time I look upon you, all I can stand to think of is how deep my love for you runs. I... I need you, (Y/N). I do not wish for you to be frightened of me, my angel. I would never, not ever harm you, nor let any harm come to you."

You still weren't looking at Muzan, yet your smile had yet to falter. Muzan felt a bubble of nervousness in his gut. Although he knew your response to his words already, even thinking of this moment never failed to make his stomach churn. He hoped his words to you were enough. He doubted that he had ever said anything more truthful in his entire life.

After a long pause of silence between the two of you, you closed your eyes and widened your smile. Then, you opened your eyes again, finally turning to face your lover. You looked Muzan right in the eyes, seemingly unfazed that you were standing so dangerously close to the most powerful being alive.

You were so brave.

Your heart was so big.

Muzan felt so overwhelmed.

"Muzan," you said, your cheeks dusting a light pink.

What you said next to him, Muzan could never get out of his head, never forget. No matter how much he tried, he would never not ever forget your words in that moment.

Within that one short, simple phrase, the king of demons fell in love all over again.

"I've always known."

~~

Another flash within his crimson eyes, and the scene had changed again. Nighttime again, of course, but this time within the confines of the bedroom you and Muzan shared. Both you and Muzan were nude, sans the blanket that covered the lower half of your forms. Muzan was on his back, one strong arm wrapped around you, the other cradling the back of his head. Your legs were intertwined with his, and your hair and hands were sprawled out on top of his lean, muscular chest.

Muzan knew this night as well.

It was his most loved night with you, but also his most dreaded.

How cruel fate was.

Stroking your back with the tips of his fingers, Muzan stared up at the ceiling above the two of you. Your body was flush against his, and as warm as ever. He wondered to himself if he was making you cold. If he was, you didn't seem to mind.

After a long period of savoring the silence between you and him, you softly snorted out a cute, soft giggle. This made Muzan angle his chin downward to look at the top of your head.

"What is it?" He questioned.

You giggled again, tilting your head up to look at him. Smiling, you turned your body to lay on top of the demon king, your breasts smushing against his own. Instinctively, Muzan laid his hands on your hips, rubbing small circles into them as he held you in place.

"I just find it funny that even though you profess to have so much stamina, you get tired after only two rounds." You explained to him, a playful mischievousness in your tone and eyes.

Muzan breathed out a smile, reaching up a clawed hand to brush your hair out of your face.

"As I recall it, you were the one complaining it was too much." He quipped back.

You snorted, "As if that ever stopped you before."

The demon let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward to give you a kiss on the forehead. Muzan couldn't remember ever laughing so genuinely before you came along. You truly were the light of his life. You filled his days with the sunlight he had long since forgotten, as well with the warmth no other demon could ever have.

He loved you.

He loved you he loved you he loved you.

And he still did.

He watched as you dropped your gaze to his chest, running your fingers along the flesh.

"Muzan..." you said, your voice more serious than before, "I've been thinking a lot lately..."

The demon king hummed, brushing more hair from your face.

"What has been on your mind, my love?" He asked.

You paused for a second before continuing on. Muzan could practically see the gears turning in your head.

"Well, I... I'm not getting any younger, you know, and I've been thinking. I... I really love you, Muzan. You're the only person I can imagine myself being with for the rest of my life. The other day, I was in town, and I saw the cutest family ever with a husband and a wife and two adorable little children, and it made me think..."

You looked up at him again, giving him a soft smile.

"What if we were to have a family of our own?"

Muzan could feel the same sense of joy, love, and pride in his chest as he did this same moment all those years ago. In this moment, he had never felt closer to you before, nor could you recall ever looking more beautiful.

He wanted nothing more than to be a family with you for the rest of eternity.

"Darling, you know what that would mean, correct?" He questioned you. He had told you long before that demons could only have offspring with other demons, for a demon baby would eat its human mother from the inside and kill her. It was gruesome, and had originally made you cringe at the thought. Muzan had thought your reaction was quite cute.

"Yes, yes, I know," you answered, "and I'd be ready for it. Even if I'm a demon, and even if I can never go out in the sun again or live normally ever again, I'd be happy knowing I got to be with you and our baby for the rest of time."

Muzan gave you a smile in return, his long, white fangs flashing in the light of the night. Leaning forward, he kissed you upon your soft, warms lips, gently pulling you closer to him.

This was one of the thousands of reasons why he loved you.

You were always so sweet, so kind and optimistic. He would admit, he did have a soft spot for you and you alone. But he didn't care. You were worth it. You were worth every single piece of money on planet earth. You were worth the sun the moon and the stars, and all the planets here and beyond. You were worth any injury, any heartache, and any trial or tribulation in the world.

The king of the demons unquestionably, unfathomably, undeniably, adored you.

Pulling gently away from the kiss, Muzan looked deep into your eyes, right past your pupils and looked right into your soul, your very being.

"I would want nothing more, my sunlight."

If Muzan could turn back the hands of time, he would have kept you here with him for the rest of everything and beyond.

For he did not know then that was the last kiss you and him would share.

~~

Another flash, and Muzan was no longer greeted with a visage of the past. Much to his dismay, the demon was now greeted with the sight of his office, with a smiling Enmu creepily watching him from across his desk.

What a fucking freakshow.

Taking in a breath of air through his nose, Muzan sat up tall in his chair again, rubbing the bridge of his nose with this thumb and pointer finger.

You were gone again. You were again nothing up a memory, a whisper of a time from the past.

Muzan could hardly bare it.

He had felt you, held you near him.

And just as fast as you came back, you were gone again.

This was a pain almost too hard to bear.

How long was he asleep for? Muzan really didn't care how long it was.

No amount of time with you was enough.

"Did you have the pleasant dream you wished for, Master?" Enmu asked the demon king. The lesser moon was lucky Muzan was in a somewhat good mood that day.

"Yes." Muzan replied simply, closing his eyes to rub them with his thumb, "Excellent work."

Enmu's smile widened at this, his cheeks turning pink again.

"Why, thank you, Master." He responded, his excitement prevalent in his voice.

Enmu really was a special one.

After composing himself again, Muzan scooted his chair forward up to his desk, fixing his gaze back onto his work sprawled out below.

Muzan just wanted to be alone again after that. He had been alone for years now, but he wanted Enmu out of the room. Although he could have easily ordered it to be so, he again did not want to show any weakness to the lower moon.

Christ on a bike. Muzan was so fucking stubborn.

He remembered all the times you nagged him for it.

Oh, what he would give to have you nag him one last time.

After a long bout of silence, the lesser demon decided to speak up again. He turned his head over his shoulder again to Muzan, trying to sound as naieve and innocent as possible.

"Master," Enmu said, "Where is she now?"

Muzan stopped his movements and glared up at Enmu with a venomous glare. How dare he even refer to you. You were so far above him, how dare Enmu even think to invoke your name.

Though Muzan wanted to kill the other demon right on the spot, he decided against it. He still wanted to see how Enmu would do on his mission. Also, Muzan had to admit that he did feel lighter and more generous after his dream with you. And he supposed it was fair that Enmu had his questions.

Feeling nice, Muzan decided to entertain Enmu's question.

Shifting his gaze back to the papers below, Muzan replied.

"Gone." he said, "The night she asked about a family was the last night I saw her alive. The next day, a group of slayers found her and our house. They knew who she was and that she was human, but killed her anyway. All in attempt to get to me. I found her in a pool of her own blood, limp and cold. The slayers died that same night."

Enmu's smile faded at this, his face taking on a look of shock. Closing his lips into a tight line, Enmu looked away, out of a quiet unconscious respect. Everything made so much more sense to Enmu now. Why the demon king was the way he was, his hatred for slayers, his cold-hearted, murderous nature.

It all clicked into place.

"I... I am sorry for your loss, Master." He said, his voice quieter than normal, "She seemed like a lovely woman."

Muzan peered up at the back of Enmu's head. Through his thick, black lashes.

"Yes..." Muzan said.

"She truly was."

Ayo do you write for poly relationships?

If that's so, could you do a cc!Karlnapity x male reader? Quackity is hella stressed because of law school and is very tired so the others just

Do little things for him, like acts of service and just, being supportive---

Feel free to say no if it makes you uncomfortable :>

Yep. I myself am poly but not in a relationship yet. So I am perfectly comfortable with it.

We believe in you.

Summary: quackity needs some tlc. With the stress of law school higher then ever you, karl, and sapnap decide to take care of him while he studies.

Pronouns: he him his

Quackity. The hyper happy streamer. Was in his office/streaming room studying for finals.

The stress he was under was immense and all you and your two other boyfriends wanted to do was comfort him and help him through this intense time.

You were monitoring how much he has eaten or drank today. That counter was at zero. The amount of times for a stressful break was monitored by karl. And the bathroom breaks by sapnap. With all of the counters at zero you guys went to work.

You were the only one that could cook in this house. The others would burn it down. So you were always on dinner duty. Or lunch. Even breakfast.

Whipping up some tomato soup and grilled cheese you were quick to plate it. These we're quick simple and the best thing for them to consume.

While sapnap and karl were harassing him to get up you were setting up the living room for a mental break for him. Setting it up for two episodes of the show you guys were watching you yelled up to them. "guys I'm done. And if you have to drag him."

You were making him take this break. Whether he liked it or not. Cramming can be useful yes. But not all the time. Not for hours on end with no food or water. Watching your two boyfriends literally dragging your third one down you smirked.

"So. You thought that you could get away with not eating, drinking, or even bathroom breaks. You thought wrong." Quackity stared at you. That look. He's seen it before.

"No. No! If I don't study I can't pass!" He was desperate to get out of their arms. Walking up to him you squished his cheeks. "Hun. It's gonna be an hour at max. You need to eat. Get some water. We're worried. You haven came out of that room for over 6 hours. Meaning you haven't eaten, haven't filled your water bottle, haven't used the bathroom. It's not healthy. And your brain needs fuel. Not energy drinks." He looked at you for a moment.

What you said was true. Every human needs it. But he just wanted to finish his notes. The ones that he said would be done in less then three hours. The ones that he could study for the final exam with.

But all three of your guys puppy dog eyes won him over.

"Fine. But no longer then an hour." He fully gave in. Letting go of his face you smiled. "Great! I made grilled cheese and tomato soup." Quackity looked over with stars in his eyes.

"You could of just said that Mi Amor. You know I would die for you soup." Rolling you eyes to him as he quickly picked up his plate and bowl.

This man.

He was scarfing it down like he was a starving man.

I mean waking up, studying, and not eating at all does that to you.

As the show played quackity seemed to relax a bit more. That was all you wanted. Him to sit back, relax, give himself a break.

Sadly the two episodes were over faster then they began. Leaving quackity to go back upstairs. Laving his three worried boyfriends.

"Okay guys." They looked at you confused for a sec.

"Every hour we bring him something. Water, a snack, blanket, hot drinks, cuddles. What ever you want. Just make sure he's taking care of himself alright?" They nodded.

"Good. Who's on first hour duty?" Karl was quick. He was nearly springing out of his seat as he raised his hand.

You were fine with it because your took at least two hours.

You were making cookies.

You knew the boys couldn't resist any of the baked goods you made. After all you were a cooking and baking youtuber.

So as the hours passed by the guys kept reminding quackity to take breaks. Telling him to go to the bathroom, stretch his legs a little, have a hug.

So when you finished the last batch it was your turn up there. Bringing a plate full of cookies and milk with you, you knocked gently.

"I swear to God sapnap if you're there again I'm going to ki-." He opened the door and looked directly at you. "Not sapnap this time I brought cookies though!" He greedily grabbed the cookies and milk, letting you in as he did so.

"So studying been going well?" He shrugged. "Could be better could be worse." Laughing lightly you sat in one of the chairs there.

"But way better now that you brought me cookies." Shaking your head you stretched. "Honestly if I didn't decide to learn. I would of never met you guys. But boy am I happy for that. Now I'm with my three handsome boyfriends. One of them ever so cuddly. The other quite the amazing voice. And lastly my extremely smart boy who is going to help so many people when he passes his finals." He tilted his head at you.

Standing up you kissed his forehead. "I belive in you alex. Just remember that your mental health is just as important as this exam." Your voice was soft on his forehead.

"Yeah! You are one of the smartest j have met! Don't you dare give up. But don't you dare mentally strain yourself!" Sapnap was loud.

Rolling your eyes you looked at the two in the door way.

"Yeah! We're here for you alex. If you need a small break we'll always be right here for you! Be it a hug, kiss, cookie, a tv break. Even just an hour of us laying in bed doing nothing except talking. We're here for you!" Karl was quick to add on. God you loved them yet they always tend to get way to cheesy.

"God you guys. I have no clue what I'm going to do with you three. I can't thank you enough." Quackity was about ready to break down in tears. With the ruffle of the hair you smiled brightly.

"No need. You are going through something that you need to work hard on. We aren't going to let you not take care of yourself." You opened your arms. On arm around quackity already.

You were inviting the other two over to join the hug.

Rushing over their arms over layed quackity and you. Squeezing the life out of you both.

God. Don't let this dream come to an end.

Bouns:

At the end of the day. All you, sapnap, and karl knew was the day coming to an end. This wasn't going to end with out quackity.

"Hey. Alex. How close are you to being done?" He turned to you. You hadn't really interuped him the whole time only every once in a while to bring up a snack. He looked up and down your pajama clad body.

He shook his head lightly. "You get comfortable with karl and sapnap. I'll be there in about 15-20 minutes." Nodding lightly you walked up the stairs. Leading to the massive room. This was the room you all shared. While also having your own room for when you wanted to sleep separately.

Karl and sapnap laid awake in their respective spots. "He's not coming to bed?" Sapnap asked. You shook your head.

"He said 15-20 minutes." Crawling between the taller ones you left space for quackity to crawl in.

He was a little off from the 15-20 minutes. He took 30 instead. But you weren't complaining one of your main sources of heat for the night was now in the bed, curled up, head on your chest, hands lightly intertwined with the other two.

Leaving your hands open to lightly comb his hair back and massage his scalp and back. This man was studying for at least 12 hours. And he deserved it.

There was no complaints from anyone. Not even quackity which was quite unusual. Except for the fact he had passed out almost as soon as your fingers started at his scalp.

His little snores brought a smile to your face while little giggles came from karl. While a chuckel came from sapnap. It's unusual for quackity to fall asleep first. But you wouldn't change it.

Not for the world.

*Ahem* I am now one year on testosterone! God it's been a weird journey but I do feel happier about myself.

Also I loved this fluffy tooth rotting oneshot. It made me happy to shower quackity, karl, and sapnap in love. They deserve it!

Anyways I hope you enjoyed and have a good day/night/morning/evening.

Eli out.

worthy.

When Sol gets a GPA of 2.02, the study group (and Joon Hwi) comes together to cheer her up. 

notes: another prompt by @thenerdywriter ! i wasn't sure if you meant it like this, but i hope you are satisfied! thank you for your prompt and your trust! i do apologise for the wait!

not much fluff or cliche romantic scenes, but just simple things that i hope when you read, remember your worth and never be defeated. you are worthy, loved and deserving to be appreciated. :) inbox always open!

for anyone who have sent prompts and asks, i thank you for your ideas! i have read through all your asks and am so excited to begin writing, but please understand if i can’t reply you as fast as i hoped! so sorry for this, i’ll try to address my inbox faster!! any mistakes or incorrect information will be taken responsible by me. enjoy!

edit: everyone, please don’t cry on this omg I’ve made 5 people comment their tears now and im terribly sorry for the tears.. I meant for this to be a light hearted story but looks like everyone is crying,, I’ll try not to make people cry now..

original prompt: where joon hwi and the rest of the gang shake some sense into her (sol a) about her self-esteem. 

words: 2787 words

Sol is downstairs at the lounge, holding a clear bottle of soju. She takes another swig from the plastic bottle, hoping that the alcohol can numb her heart like it does to her head. It burns, and she’s turning woozy, but she grumbles and takes another swig. 

2.02. She’s passed, at least. But she can’t help but feel upset. She wasn’t upset that she couldn’t score as well as Yeseul or BokGi, but upset that she’s satisfied with these low results. No one is going to hire her, even less offer an internship while looking at her track records. 

Sol worked her ass off for this exam. She nearly died, if it wasn’t for Yeseul’s reminders to eat. Even her cold stoned face roommate bothered to place bottles of water on her desk. Yet, after all this... 

“Why are you still up?” She hears Joon Hwi ask as he takes a seat next to her. She stays silent with a grim expression and turns away. Joon Hwi was the last person she wanted to see, especially when she’s in such a bad mod. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks as he catches her arm just as she’s about to chug her soju. 

“Everything.” She slurs. “You know I’m not even upset with my GPA? I’m upset of being happy with my shitty grades.” Joon Hwi sighs, attempting to grab her bottle away.

“I should have never came to study. I should have never tried to prove myself to be Dan!” She scolds louder. Sol knows she’s drunk in front of her best friend, but she can’t control herself. She doesn’t care. 

“Kang Sol...” Joon Hwi stands up, grabbing her bottle away from her. “You’re drunk. Go back.” 

“I don’t belong here, anyway.” Her slurs catch Joon Hwi in his steps. 

“I never once belonged with any of you. Being with all of you just drags you all further. I should just stop burdening you all with my questions and rot in a corner. Besides, no one would care.” She softly says, her voice filled with regret and guilt. 

Sol has always felt this way. Ever since she was young, Dan was always the star child. She got top grades while Sol got through in the middle rankings. Dan was always more popular, prettier, smarter. Sol learnt at a young age that no matter what, she would always be overshadowed by Dan. 

Thus, she learnt to be quiet. Only ask questions when she really needs to. Stick to familiar people. Only be loud when told to, and blend in in every situation. She learnt to depreciate herself, because no one appreciated her in the first place. 

Joon Hwi wants to shake her. He wants to write an entire dissertation on why Sol belongs to Hankuk. He wants to show her what he sees: a smart, caring, passionate lawyer-to-be. He wants to show her what he sees when she testified for Professor Yang in court. A confident, woman knowing her morals and rights.

“Kang Sol.” Joon Hwi says, pulling her up by her wrist. Sol pushes him away, but her touches are sloppy and weak. Sighing, Joon Hwi knows that it is useless to argue about her grades and her worth when she’s not even half conscious of what she’s doing. 

He grabs her coat lying on the couch, finding her phone and plans on calling Yeseul. But it’s past 1am, but he doesn’t want to trouble Yeseul. Sighing, he contemplates calling her roomie but reality smacks when he realises she’s home. Noticing how Sol is slowly nodding off, giving in to the fatigue, it leaves Joon Hwi not much of an option to carry her back.

Fishing the room key out from her coat, he takes special care in carrying her, sweeping his arm under her knee and lifting her slowly as to not disrupt her from falling asleep. The key card is in between his fingers as he slowly and quietly makes his way up to her dorm. He thanks the deities above that no one caught him or interrupted him. 

Tapping the key card, a standard ‘beep’, he pushes the door with his back, and takes care to get him and her into the dark room. He can barely see anything, especially since he has no hands to on the lights, but he makes out his way in the small room using the moonlight and what he can tell. 

Joon Hwi knows which side Sol sleeps, knowing from her stories that include her rolling from the bed up to the desk. By now, Sol was sleeping soundly, a slight snore escaping her. Gently, he sets her down on her bed and reaches to take her shoes off for her. Hanging up her coat that he placed on top of her whilst he was carrying her, he finally pulled the thick blanket over her.

But he didn’t leave just yet.

“I never once belonged with any of you.”

Sol’s words echoed in his head more than he thought it would. He stopped and bent down silently by her bed side, taking a few moments to wonder to himself just how and why does she feel so unworthy.

He grabs her bottle of water from her bag, before putting it next to her phone, which is on the table. Knelt on the floor, he observes the slow rise of her chest and the way her eyes flutter and nose twitch when Sol sleeps. Just how can someone like Sol think she’s any less than what he sees?

“You belong here in Hankuk. I’ll show you just why.” His whisper barely audible, as he brushes away a stray hair on her face. With that, he takes his leave and sneaks back to his dorm. (Without getting caught)

-----

The next day, after two painkillers and a big bowl of hangover soup (left mysteriously by someone at their pantry), Sol is headed to study group. She is running a few minutes early than their scheduled timing, but she’s surprised to find the group huddled in hushed whispers. 

“What are you all looking at?” Sol asks, as she sets her book at her usual corner opposite Joon Hwi. BokGi lets out a startled yelp and Yebeom clamps his mouth shut. Sol isn’t surprised to see Jiho crowded there, but is even more shocked to see Sol B crowded with them too. If it was anything, Sol B wouldn’t crowd around and discuss things, unless it concerned herself, or benefitted her grades.

“What...” Sol leans over and raises her eyebrows. Yeseul’s eyes dart nervously and she breaks into a smile. The rest of the group just shuffles back to their seats murmuring under their breath.

“Nothing, unnie! They were just discussing on what to order for lunch.” Yeseul says as she walks over to Sol and takes her bag and books from her, before setting it on the table. “Unnie, shall we get coffees?” Yeseul escorts her out of the room before Sol could react. Sol assumes that it’s due to her hangover that Yeseul is suggesting coffee, thus just following and getting a cold brew and assorted drinks for the others. 

When she returns, they distribute the drinks and start discussing on what to study. 

“Noona, do you have anything?” BokGi asks, a little too enthusiastically. Sol is taken aback and lost for words. She usually just follows whatever the rest want, since answering her questions will take hours. Joon Hwi gives a sympathetic smile. 

“How about you share with us about a recent case? Remember the one that Professor Kim liked in particular?” Joon Hwi suggests. Sol grows quiet. Her? The worst student? Sol let’s out an uncertain laugh.

“Ah, me? I rather my roomie shares. She did better than me.” Sol says, then prepares a fresh document for note taking on her laptop.

“I didn’t do well.” Sol B says quietly, her eyes emotionless as usual, leaning back into the chair. “You did the best. Go on.” Sol is stunned and just nods uncertainly. Taking out her case notes and her reports that she submitted, she nervously discusses the topic on hand. She sneaks Joon Hwi a couple of questioning stares but he only pretends to not catch her eyes.

Everyone is enthusiastic, asking questions and when Sol is stumped, they jump in to help her. They suggest ideas and Sol has never felt so energised by their energy before. She find it fishy how Joon Hwi just sits back and she can feel him smiling whenever she makes a point right or figures out a missing link.

An hour later, when they are done expanding on Sol’s case and discussing, they break for a late lunch together.  Yebeom enters the room with bags of food, as usual over ordering. As they pass out containers of jjampong and jjajamyeon, Sol’s eyes light up when she saw the only thing that mattered in the whole order: her beloved pickles, in doubled servings. 

What Sol doesn’t expect is for JiHo to dump his packet of pickles on her container of noodles. 

“JiHo-ah, why...” Sol is dumbfounded for a moment as JiHo opens his pack of noodles to stir. JiHo only pushes up his glasses. 

“You can have them, noona.” Sol is even more dumbfounded. This was the first time JiHo has called her noona. She didn’t care for the honourifics, and JiHo could call her by her full name for all she cared. But hearing those words from Seo JiHo’s mouth, just made her think everyone was utterly suspicious today.

“Okay, everyone is being weird. What is this?” Sol announces, hoping her tone came out fun, with no hints of anger. 

“Nothing! We just know you’ve been feeling stressed, so JiHo decided to give you his share of pickles, right?” BokGi quips up, as he dives into taking the sauce to pour over the tangsuyuk, before Yebeom and him argue over pouring or dipping. 

Sol, still feeling suspicious, breaks her chopsticks just as Joon Hwi picks up a pickle from her plastic saucer to put on her noodles. Her eyes dart from his chopstick to his face, but he just nods at her pickles, expressions hard to read.

Sol crunches on her pickles, but it does nothing to soothe the feeling that everyone was aware of something, but her. 

-----

The rest of the week was a puzzle piece that Sol could not fix together.

She woke up everyday to a new message by Joon Hwi, sometimes sending her funny videos, or a simple “let’s get through this together”. She woke up once to her roomie handing her breakfast and coffee. It just didn’t click in Sol’s head to see the cold Sol B hand her a sandwich and coffee.

Their group chat was undoubtedly noisy, but even more so now. Something in common was how the more chatty ones would ask Sol for advice or chat and strike noisy conversations. She was used to the chaos, but she definitely didn’t feel used to having the attention on her.

As the group had earned different internships from small and large firms, Sol was going to be left in school alone, still applying and hoping for one to come her way. Her study group knew about it, and instead continued to encourage her about it. They avoided talk on their internships, and actively tried to help Sol. While Sol was grateful, she couldn’t help but wish that they would just act normal and not worry about her.

She chose to meet them for breakfast on the day of their internships. The meal was noisy as usual as they ate their sandwiches and gimbaps. They were dressed smartly in their suits with their briefcases. Sol made a fuss over everyone looking smart on their first day.

“Hurry up and eat, you’re going to be late for your internship!” Sol scolded BokGi as he and Yebeom threw comments back and forth. Everyone was off for theirs and ready with their jackets and bags. Walking with them to the door, she couldn’t help but feel like a mom to her kids, sending them to school.

“Noona! Check your table later in the libra-” Yebeom gleefully mused before BokGi clamped his mouth shut and JiHo (with much irritation) smacked his head silently.

“What?” Sol asks, turning to Joon Hwi, who was turning redder by the second. Joon Hwi closes his eyes, the same way he does when he’s embarrassed and looks away from her.

“Listen to Yebeom and check the table.” He says, finally looking at her. “We’ll see you for dinner then.” Waving a quick goodbye, the group walked away from her towards the carpark where they separated to the bus stops or in the direction of the train station.

“O-Okay…” she mutters, still confused as she carries her books and bag to her usual table at the library. She would have went to sulk at Professor Kim’s office for a while, but she instead chose to head straight to study. Professor Kim had enough on her plate and she wasn’t ready just yet to face Professor Kim with her mood.

There, at her table, lies her stack of books.

Normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Huffing out, she slumps her bag on her table, gathering the post its on the bar above the table. Most of them were just plain comments, like how she had to stop slamming her pen into her hand (it distracted students) or move out of the library cause there aren't enough seats. Opening her book on civil code, she was ready to start drilling her head before meeting Professor Kim. 

Then she spots an envelope, hidden between the pages of the book.

Carefully, she picks it out and looks on the cream white paper, the only ink on it her name, written in neat handwriting. She could recognise Joon Hwi’s handwriting anywhere. A slight scoff escapes her lips and several students turn in annoyance. Realising that this was probably not the best place to be in, she grabs her books and bags (and the post its) and leaves the library. She heads to the empty study room, where she knows she’s be comfortable at.

Opening the flap, she slips out numerous slips of paper, varying degrees of length and sizes. Some words were neat, some were a little messy.

-----

To: Unnie <3

Sol-unnie, you know you’re smart, right? Your grades may not show that you are the best, but I know you are! Whenever I hear you discuss a case with the study group, I know you’re trying your best to memorise and improve. Don’t give up, unnie! I will support you till the end!

- Yeseul 

To: Sol-A noona

Yah, noona! You have to stop injuring yourself, okay? You gave us a really big scare the last time when you started nose bleeding in the midst of study group. Noona, don’t look at your grades anymore! If a man like me can get through law school so far pretty well, you can too! Fighting, noona! 

Noona~ you’re really talented. The fact that you scored so well during the criminal law test and managed to spot the comma just shows for amazing you are! Noona, don’t be discouraged... seeing you discouraged makes us sad too. Your favourite dongsaeng is here to help you! 

- BokGi and Yebeom 

To: Kang Sol-A

You can do it. Review your cases before classes. Get your internship.

-JiHo

To: Sol-A

Live up to your name, will you? And sleep on a regular schedule. 

- Roommate

To: Sol

Sunbae, remember me? Stop doubting yourself and trust yourself. You’re smarter than you know and fit for court. I will support you from wherever you are. I’m grateful for you, for supporting me all this time. I think Dan would be proud of you, and so will the cookie Byeol. 

Sol, you are worthy in my eyes. So stop undermining yourself. You belong in Hankuk next to me. You can’t give up now.

-Joon Hwi

-----

Sol lets a smile creep on her face as she lets a small blush rise to her face. Holding her letters to her heart, she closes her eyes, reminding herself of the past week and her friend’s efforts to cheer her on. She knew no doubt it had to be Joon Hwi who convinced everyone there to write for her despite their busy schedule. For even Sol B to help out and bother about her, it warmed her heart to have her support.

Picking her book, she pinned her hair up as she started drill into her book with a new found confidence, fuelled by her friends supporting her. But most importantly, she felt worthy. She felt loved. She felt confident. She was hopeful.

(Everyone thinks she’s worthy in their eyes, but one just thinks she’s perfect.)

A/N: Next week uni exams start and I won’t be able to write for a while, so I did my best to finish this chapter on time before I go MIA for some time.

You can check here Pemberley’s Lake, Hooked on You and Smells like petrichor and paper, part one, two and three of my Nessian Pride and Prejudice AU.

The sound of music

Cassian could not sleep. His mind kept coming back to the greenhouse.

To Nesta and her lavender and vanilla scent and how lovely she looked amidst the flowers.

He would not lie to himself and say he did not let his lips linger a little bit longer than necessary on her temple.

Or that he had not felt some resemblance of male pride on seeing her wearing his jacket.

That he had not imagined her wearing it after they had come back home from a ball or one of Gywn’s operas.

That he had not imagined Nesta tucked close to his side, his arms around her and a smile on his face as he heard her talk about her day.

His imagination, it seemed, was his worst enemy.

“You are delusional Cassian” he mumbled to himself “Delusional”

Sighing, he touched the pressed daisy chain again. He had taken it out of his drawer and left it in front of him as he worked on some papers regarding his properties, thinking the numbers, reports of complaints or requests would help tire him out enough to make sleep come.

Cassian had no such luck. He worked until the entire pile had been properly looked through, and even three glasses of his strongest brandy could not make his thoughts of Nesta go away.

Nesta, who was currently sleeping in one of Pemberley’s guest rooms after much freeting from Mrs.Potts and her friends about catching a cold. Cassian had made sure to have her room properly warmed and a glass of hot chocolate delivered to her first thing after they arrived from the greenhouse.

Her friends had been delighted to spend the night, and he had almost asked them to forego the inn completely and just stay at Pemberley for the rest of the month. But he did not want to mess their schedule and ruin their trip. He knew that Gwyn was on a short vacation, as were Emerie and Balthazar, and Nesta could not stay away from her younger sister, Elain, for too long, given that they had no male relative to look after their household and wellbeing in the meantime.

Maybe a trip to the kitchens would help him. A midnight snack was bound to make his sleep come soon, and he was sure he had heard one the maids saying that Chef Ramsay had baked chocolate cookies.

Safely putting the bookmark back in his drawer, Cassian only bothered to throw a robe on before quietly making his way down the hallways. He was not worried about being shirtless, given that most of the house was for certain sleeping.

Deciding to take the long way to the kitchen in hopes of tiring himself, he was surprised to pass by the library and see light coming from underneath the doors. Thinking that maybe someone had forgotten to check the place in their rounds, Cassian opened the oak doors to find the candle light. He could not risk a fire happening in the library out of all places.

He followed the faint glow until he found himself with a most surprising — but very welcome — sight.

Nesta was currently curled up on his favourite chair reading a book in nothing but a thin nightgown and he momentarily forgot to be annoyed at her for not covering herself after being caught in the rain if only because by the way she was seated he had a privileged view of her bare legs.

Cassian knew he should announce his presence, his conscience yelling at him how improper and scandalous it was to see her in such a private moment. But he let himself stare at her for another minute, commiting to mind every single detail, from the way the ribbons in her nightgown accentuated her waist — he recalled how small it had seemed when they had danced at Feyre’s ball, his hand spanning nearly halfway across — to how the white colour made her eyes look more grey than blue in the candlelight.

“Fancy seeing you here” Cassian said in greeting, clearing his throat.

Nesta nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard him, quickly scrambling to straighten herself up when she realised she was not alone.

“I am sorry, you had said I could come whenever I wanted and I—”

"Could not sleep?” he asked, and Nesta only nodded.

Oh dear Mother, she wanted to crawl into a hole on the ground and disappear. Why was it that she was always finding herself in embarrassing situations when it came to Cassian?

It was true she could not sleep, her mind replaying her evening with Cassian, from the moment she stepped on the library to when he kissed her temple in the greenhouse.

She had tossed and turned in her bed for hours, her creative mind conjuring images of a future with him.

Of long strolls in the garden and picnics by the lake.

Of hours spent reading quietly side by side in the library.

Of running her hands in his silky hair, coming up with new ways to style it.

Of Cassian’s coat around her shoulders and her head on his as they came back from a late evening of dancing or parties with their friends.

Why could she not stop thinking about him? Why had he not left her mind since they had first met each other and why did her heart skip a beat whenever he was nearby?

She looked at him, flushing all over when she noticed that he would have been completely naked from the waist up were it not for a robe, which had loosened up a bit, revealing a bit of his naked chest.

For Cauldron’ sake, did he not own a shirt?

“What are you reading?” he inquired, and she quickly averted her gaze from his chest.

Little did she know he was also trying very hard to not stare at her bare shoulders or her chest, cursing once again whoever had gifted her such nightgown.

He could bet his fortune it had been Emerie, recognizing the modice’s preference of off shoulders designs.

“Oh, it’s a romance” Nesta felt her ears getting even hotter “By Sellyn Drake. You have a rather large collection here. Some are even first editions”

“She was a dear friend of Pemberley’s previous Lady” Cassian said, motioning for her to take a seat as he told her the story “The Lord sponsored her, both because he saw how her writing brought joy to his wife and also Lady Drake’s talent.”

“She soon became extremely famous and still kept sending the previous Lord her books even after his wife passed away” Cassian smiled faintly “He sold Pemberley and moved, but I kept the library as it was, just adding my own books here. Lady Drake comes once a while to visit and get inspiration for new novels, although she says she is to retire soon.”

“Y-you know her?” Nesta’s voice had gotten an uncharacteristic high pitch “You know Sellyn Drake personally?!”

“She is a very annoying old lady” Cassian said rolling his eyes “Always asking me if I will not take a wife so she will have someone more interesting to discuss her books with whenever she visits.”

“I cannot believe you are friends with one of my favourite authors” Nesta said in disbelief.

“But I would not have pegged you for a romance reader” she added, arching an eyebrow.

“I could not very well leave those books here to gather dust, could I?” he answered, squirming on his seat.

“Tell me, did the scary General Commander of the British Armies shed a tear in any of them?” her voice had a teasing tone and Cassian was almost left speechless by that fact alone.

Nesta inclined her body in his direction, apparently having forgotten she was not wearing modest attire at all and that Cassian was desperately trying to keep his eyes on her face instead of her chest.

“I promise not to tell anyone if you did”

And then Nesta Archeron gave a little sideway smile that made Cassian lose his breath.

He did not know what he had done that made her take such liberties with him, but he for sure was not going to complain.

“I did not cry” he finally managed to answer, angling his body in her direction and smirking when he saw a faint blush adorning her cheeks “But I will not be heartless and say it did not move me a little.”

They were close once again. So close Nesta could see that his eyes had little green speckles on them and that the brown looked like molten chocolate.

They were eyes one could drown and all she wanted to do was to indeed drown on them.

“Next time Lady Drake plans on coming to Pemberley I will make sure to invite you too” Cassian said softly, straightening himself “It is quite late. I will accompany you to your room.”

As if on cue, Nesta yawned, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.

“I only have one chapter left” she tried to argue, suppressing another yawn.

“Such a headstrong lady you are” he smiled and took the candlelight “The book will still be here tomorrow.”

Nesta followed him begrudgingly, twisting her nose in annoyance even though she was yet again holding back another yawn. Cassian thought she looked like a tiny angry kitten, laughing internally.

They walked back to her room in a comfortable silence, and sooner than he would have liked they had arrived.

“Well, then, here we are. Delivered safe and sound”

“Thank you, your grace” Nesta opened the door but did not get inside, as if she too did not want to part with him.

“Have a goodnight of sleep, my lady” he said, dropping a kiss on her hand before he could dwell too long on it.

“Goodnight, your grace” she breathlessly answered, finally getting inside and leaving Cassian standing outside her door.

Needless to say, both fell asleep quickly after that.

~•~

“For Cauldron’ sake are you incapable of sending prior notice of your arrival? And it is way too early to be drinking wine Morrigan, even for you”

Cassian had arrived to have breakfast and found Rhysand’s cousin casually seated at table, twirling her glass of wine at nine in the morning.

“I came here straight from Vivian’s. It was a long journey and I needed the wine. Besides, I am family! I knew you were going to like my surprise visit” Mor blinked at him.

“Always a pleasure to see you” Cassian answered, sitting beside her and promptly dumping a large portion of bacon and eggs on his plate “I take you introduced yourself to my other guests?”

“Of course” she snorted, making Georgiana laugh “Except for Miss Carynthian and Sir Oristian, that is. It seems they went into town early to see something in relation to their business.”

As if on cue, the dining room doors were open and Balthazar and Emerie walked in.

Emerie had opted to wear trousers today — Cassian thought it was to not be belittled by some stupid mercants and show with just who they were dealing with — and a white shirt with long sleeves with a forest green vest. Her curly brown hair was down and she had a gleam in her eyes that told him her business transaction had been a success.

She really was a sight to behold but it still startled him when Mor spat out her wine.

Mor never wasted wine.

“Sorry for our late arrival, Balthazar was being a weakling” Emerie said, sitting in front of a very much flustered Morrigan.

“I was not. You are the one who never lets the other have the upper hand” Balthazar pointed out.

“Please, you know that piece of silk was not worth that much!” she spread jam in a piece of toast, waving the knife in a rather aggressive manner.

“Maybe, but if you keep that up you will gather more enemies than business partners”

“Good thing I have you as my bodyguard” she batted her eyelashes innocently, making Balthazar roll his eyes.

“You are Miss Carynthian. The Miss Carynthian?” Mor asked in awe, her coughing fit finally over.

“The one and only. I take you know my shop?” Emerie asked with a smile.

“I absolutely adore your designs!” Mor gushed, and they fell in a very excited talk about gowns and fashion trends.

“Did you have a goodnight of sleep?” Cassian whispered to Nesta, who was seated beside him.

“I did, thank you for your concern, your grace” she answered, grabbing a chocolate cookie “I hope you also had a pleasant sleep?”

“The best sleep I had in years” he winked at her, that sideway smile of hers appearing again.

“Lady Nesta, my brother has told me how brilliantly your dancing  is” Georgiana butted in, and Cassian resisted the urge to throttle her.

His younger sister was lucky there were other people present or he would do just that.

“He is too kind, my dancing is not that memorable” Nesta said, a bit embarrassed.

“But my brother never lies!” Georgiana exclaimed, receiving a glare from Cassian “He told me how the whole ballroom stopped to watch you as you danced.”

“Oh, thank you for the compliment your grace”

“It was nothing but the truth” Cassian assured her, sending daggers at Georgiana, who was sweetly seated by his other side as if she had not just told Nesta how infatuated with her he was.

“I wish I had your talent” Georgie sighed “I am really shy at balls and never really want to dance even if I am asked to. I usually throw my dancing card in the trash in fear someone will write their name there.”

“But I love to watch my brothers running from the scary mammas” she added with a devilish grin, failing in a brotherly bickering with Cassian.

Nesta felt her heart break over Georgiana’s fear of dancing. Apart from reading, dancing was one of the few things that brought Nesta joy. It made her feel alive, the music allowing her to get lost on the moment and forget the pressures high society placed upon her.

Dancing made Nesta feel empowered, in control of her own destiny.

Georgiana deserved to feel like that too.

And that is why when Emerie, Gwyn and Mor went shopping together while the gentlemen went horse riding, Nesta proposed that she teach Georgiana how to dance.

“Are you sure of it?” Georgiana asked nervously, glancing around the music room as if someone was going to appear out of nowhere and laugh at her poor performance.

“Rest assured. You will be dancing flawlessly at the end of the day” Nesta gave her a reassuring smile “I am going to take the male role, so please place your hand on my shoulder.”

Georgiana did as instructed, and soon they were dancing.

“You just need to have fun and relax” Nesta said, making Georgiana twirl “Even if you do not know the steps but act like you do nobody will blink. Dancing is not something that is supposed to be suffocating, but to free you.”

“You mean like this?” the young girl asked, and did a step completely opposite of what was expected in a waltz that made Nesta laugh and follow her.

In no time they were not dancing the waltz but just messing around, their laughs and delighted screams filling the room. They were having so much fun that they were oblivious to Cassian watching them from the door.

The gentlemen had returned to Pemberley and decided to move to the game room, their initial amiable horse riding outing transformed into a racing competition whose draw made Balthazar and Azriel — who revealed themselves to be extremely competitive — propose a rematch in a billiard game.

Cassian soon grew tired of watching them betting who would win, deciding to fetch a book to help distract himself. He was called to the music room by the sound of loud laughs, his heart threatening to burst when he saw Nesta and his sister having so much fun.

“When are we to expect a proposal, my lord?” Mrs. Potts said to him, having stopped to welcome him back when she noticed just who he was watching.

“I have no idea what you are talking about” he answered, a soft smile on his face as Nesta dipped Georgiana, making her laugh even louder.

“It is clear as day to all of us how much that lovely lady means to you” the old headmaid replied “I have never seen you happier since she arrived here.”

“I assure you, there is nothing going on between us.”

“Do not let your fears stop you from being happy” Mrs.Potts motherly said, noticing his bitter tone “You more than anyone deserve to be happy and feel loved. And I noticed how she looks at you, I do not know why you cannot see it.”

“Such busybody staff that I have” was all he said, Mrs.Potts smiling and leaving him alone to continue his watch.

But it appeared their talking had warned them of his presence.

“Brother! Were you spying on us?”

“Far from it Georgie. I thought nobody was home but your laughs made me want to investigate” he stepped inside, closing the door behind him “Balthazar and Az are so competitive they were giving me a headache”

“Nesta was teaching me how to dance” Georgiana said, a bright smile on her face.

“I saw it. She is a great teacher” Cassian said, and Nesta had to look away lest he saw how much happy his words had made her.

“I have a great idea!! Why don’t I play music in the pianoforte and you two dance? That way it would be much easier to see how to dance properly”

Nesta panicked at Georgiana’s words. Last time she had danced with Cassian it had been out of spite for his comment. She would not deny that she had found him a pleasant partner or that she had had fun dancing with him, but Nesta doubted he would want to dance with her again.

However, little did she know Cassian could not have been happier than the moment his sister suggested such a thing.

“That is a wonderful idea Georgie” he said to his sister, all the while planning to write to Rhysand concerning an increase in Georgiana’s dowry.

He had already forgiven her words earlier at breakfast.

Didn’t she say she wanted a new horse? He could arrange for one to be delivered first thing in the morning tomorrow.

Georgiana clapped her hands in excitement, leaving them standing in front of each other as she sat by the piano.

“You are not dancing!” she called out, her fingers moving expertly on the piano keys.

Cassian cleared his throat, offering his hand.

“May I have this dance?”

Nesta accepted his hand, placing her other on his shoulder.

“You may”

They fell in that pleasant and calming atmosphere as Georgiana played, Cassian leading her effortlessly, but she felt he was cautious, even a little stiff.

“I do not bite, your grace”  Nesta said, daring to tease him “You do not have to be afraid.”

“I would not mind if you did” he said back without thinking, his eyes widening as he realised he had said that out loud.

“I beg your pardon. I did not mean—” Cassian made to release her hand and step away but Nesta gripped his shoulder harder, stopping him.

“Do not tell me the great General Commander is left without a strategy when it comes to some defenceless lady” Nesta appeared to be nonchalant on the outside, but inside she was apprehensive.

What if she had gone too far? What if he did not see her as a friend? What if he was bothered by her teasing?

But to her relief he gave her that smirk of his that made her blood boil, stepping closer to her, their chests touching.

“For you, I have no strategies.”

And they really began to dance.

The music was still there. Georgiana played beautifully and on another occasion Nesta would have wanted nothing more than to just sit and listen all day to her playing.

But the music was no longer the most beautiful thing in existence.

Nesta got lost on him as they danced, the music a faraway background sound.

She got lost on his bright smile and noticed he had dimples.

She got lost on the way he moved with her, a body made for brutality which now moved with grace, keeping up with her.

She got so lost on his warm eyes — more green than brown at the moment —  that she felt herself moving even closer, her breath mingling with his.

“Cassian—” his name left her lips without her consent, and she almost froze when she noticed she had not used his title.

Cassian did not care, his smile only getting brighter.

“You may call me informally. We are friends, are we not Nesta?” he said quietly.

“Yes, we are.” she answered, her body tingling all over at the way he said her name, as if it was a prayer to the Mother.

Georgiana — having taken notice of the rather romantic mood — started a new song as soon as the other finished, neither of the pair paying her no mind.

Next morning, Cassian gave her a new horse, the fastest and most sought out in the market. No one had the barest ideia how he managed to get hold of it so fast, or why he was gifting it to Georgiana.

Neither explained the reason, just shaking on it as if it was a business transaction.

•

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“It’s going to be okay.”

I just did a couple of my comfort characters for this one. Send in requests if you want to see specific characters, I’d love to write for y’all’s comfort characters too 🤍

Haikyū!! Masterlist

Pairing(s): Suna Rintarō x Gender Neutral! Reader, Miya Atsumu x Gender Neutral! Reader, Tsukishima Kei x Gender Neutral! Reader, Bokuto Kōtarō x Gender Neutral! Reader, Oikawa Tōru x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: Fluff/Comfort, Reader is stressed out because of jobs/midterms/college in general, reader cries

Suna Rintarō:

It had been a rough week.

It felt like everything was going wrong. Day in and day out.

It felt like the universe was hell bent on making you break, this past week.

You worked as a barista, while you got yourself through college. 

Not an easy job, despite what some people liked to believe.

And with each day came a new promise.

Monday? A trip to the ER with second and third degree burns on your arms, when an angry customer had taken out their anger on you.

Tuesday? Your boss had yelled at you - humiliated you in front of the rest of your coworkers.

Wednesday? You ended up not realizing that yo were decorated in chocolate syrup, when you slumped on your bed, having to wash the sheets and most of you laundry, after.

Thursday? You’d tripped while at work and gotten to go home early, with your face burning in embarrassment at the snickers of other college students.

Friday? A pop quiz that you were 50% sure you failed.

Now it was Saturday, your studying? Done. Your assignments? Completed.

But you still felt the stress of the past week weighing on you.

So when you started tearing up, Suna couldn’t say he was surprised. He wished he could have made this past week easier for you.

Midterms were coming up, as well, just adding to the stress you were already feeling.

So, your boyfriend just does what comes natural to him, when it comes to you.

Rintarō doesn’t waste a moment when he returns from practice, spotting you slumped over on the couch, glaring at the floor while you tried not to let any tears fall from your eyes. With your choice comfort movie playing on the screen, he knew he had to do something.

   Even if you had been pushing him away out of frustration, for the duration of this entire week.

   Rintarō walks over to you and gently scoops you up in his arms, before sitting on the couch with you in his lap. Well-manicured nails begin to softly and affectionately run over your scalp, bringing a comfort to you that you could no longer deny you needed. Desperately.

   He tugs you gently so you’re comfortable in his lap before he brings a calloused hand to your cheek, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone softly. He can’t help his sweet, soft smile as he sees the first tears trickle down your cheeks. He normally hated to see you cry, but he knew that you needed to get this out.

   Sometimes, people just needed to scream and cry to get pent up emotion out. So when you started sobbing, completely collapsing against your boyfriend’s chest, he pulls you as close to him as you can possibly get, rocking you as he cradles your body against his own. 

   “There’s my baby, let it out...” His tone is soft as his hand holds your head against his chest. “Let it all out. It’s going to be okay. I’m here and I’ve got you.” 

   He doesn’t quite know how long it is until your sobs quiet down, the crying wearing you out, but it doesn’t matter to him. He snatches the remote up to restart the movie that you’d failed to get through, earlier, before tossing that same remote across the couch so he could readjust your bodies.

   Leaning his shoulders and head against the pillow and armrest, he reclines himself, allowing you to get comfortable on top of him. As you rest on him, he brings a hand to your cheek once again, wiping away any remnants of the tears that had previously decorated your cheeks.

   “It’s going to be okay, baby. I promise.” 

Miya Atsumu: 

Being stressed around your boyfriend?

Unheard of.

Atsumu is a perceptive little shit who picks up on the smallest changes in your mood.

And he will do everything in his power to reassure you, or cheer you up, whatever you need.

So, it’s not built up stress that gets you.

No, it’s the phone call you get in the middle of the night, while you’re resting in Atsumu’s arms.

You and Atsumu put your phones on do not disturb/bedtime mode every night.

Very few people are set up so that your phone will ring, when they call.

So, you end up waking up pretty quickly at the sound of a familiar ringtone, Atsumu sleepily sitting up beside you as you sit up to take the call.

Your best friend.

Who had just been admitted to the hospital after a car crash.

They were most likely going to make it, but they were still undergoing surgery and you knew that anything could happen.

You were her emergency contact so they called you from the ambulance.

Not too long after, you found out that the other person was undergoing surgery and probably wouldn’t make it.

The realization that that could have been your best friend made you feel like you couldn’t breath.

Atsumu had been watching your frantic pacing for the past ten minutes, watching you work yourself up more and more. You were shaking, though you hadn’t turned to him yet, like you always did, when you needed comfort. And he was too scared to make it worse.

   Until he heard how your breath caught in your throat, once again, nearly sounding like you were about to start hyperventilating. Standing, the tall volleyball player comes to stop in front of you, gently grasping your wrists in his hands to make you look at him. He doesn’t say anything as you let out a shaky breath and crumble against him, just falling into his open arms.

   Cradling you against him with his large palm at the back of your head, he lets you get out the emotions that were pent up, soft sobs being let out against his shoulder. Pressing a kiss to your temple, he whispers soft words of encouragement. “They’re going to be okay, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay, I promise. And have I ever broken my promises to you?”

   With a shake of your head, your sobs quiet and all that’s left escaping you are quiet sniffles. If anyone was able to calm you, it’d be your Tsumu. There wasn’t a bad day you could remember that he hadn’t made things better. Your boyfriend always knew what to say... When it came to you, at least.

   It wasn’t ten minutes later when a doctor came out to let you know that the surgery had been a success and that your friend was okay.

   They’d be asleep for a few hours, allowing you to go home and change from your pajamas, if you would like. You didn’t catch that bit with the immediate relief that flooded through you.

   You both did end up going home to shower and change, wanting to get you both and your friend some food on your way back. As soon as you were in the comfort of your own home, Atsumu took your face in his hands, cradling your cheeks and gently stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.

   “As long as I’m around, I am going to make sure that everything works out in the end. I don’t like seeing you cry and I don’t like seeing you stressed out. You’re my significant other and I’m going to take care of you.” He reassures you earnestly. “It’s all going to be okay, I promise.”

   And as his arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest, you know that it is, in fact, all going to be okay. You had Atsumu and he had you.

Tsukishima Kei:

Mid-terms aren’t shit.

Not only are the tests long, and hard, and stressful,

But both you and Kei had them.

And both you and Kei had attitudes - especially when it came to either of you getting stressed out.

So, you both decided to stay and study on your own for the most part, until exams were over.

It was only a week, after all, how much harm could a single week do to the two of your mental states?

A lot, apparently.

It was Kei who caved first, surprisingly, needing to see you.

It was actually pretty unsurprising, boy is whipped for you.

Grabbing his keys, he tugs on the hoodie you’d gotten him for his birthday, along with grabbing you matching one that you’d left at his place.

Then he leaves, his usual preference to wear pants rather than sweatpants, when he left his home, being overpowered by his craving to see you.

And he knew you needed to see him too.

But if anyone was more stubborn than he was about things, it was you and he knew you weren’t going to cave anytime soon.

What he didn’t expect when he entered your home was to find you crying into your hands, in a pile of your own notes, with your computer in front of you.

He furrowed his brows - you had overwhelmed yourself...

Because he hadn’t been here to prevent you from it.

Kei sighs as he listens to the clanking of keys together, his attempts to unlock the door to your apartment failing multiple times, before finally ending in success. At least he knew no one would ever break into your apartment. They wouldn’t be able to get in.

Look at him, he’d been over here a dozen times and it still took him about three minutes to manage your locks open. You must know how much he loved you with the fact he still put up with it. He enters the home, near silently, placing the strawberry shortcakes and milkshakes down on the counter, his keys being hung beside yours. Walking past your kitchen, he freezes in the doorway, hearing your quieted sobs before he sees you.

He had never, not even in his years of playing volleyball, moved as quickly as he did in that moment. He moved to kneel in front of where you were seated on the couch, taking your laptop and shutting it.

Kei knew you hadn’t opened your eyes, or moved your hands from shielding your face to see him, but you knew it was him with the way you slid off of the spot on the couch to kneel on the floor, your face finding familiar purchase in his neck.

“I’m not around for a few days and you manage to overwork yourself like this. God damn it, Y/N, don’t do this again.” His words, no matter if they should have sounded angry, just came out worried.

You knew that the only person he was mad at was himself for even suggesting the idea of you both spending time studying individually.

“I’m right here, okay? I’m not going to be going anywhere,” placing a large hand on the back of your head, he gently kisses the crown of your head. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

“It’s all going to be okay,” his soothing voice calms you quite a bit, making your body slump against his in relaxation. “There’s my shortcake. Just relax, alright. We’ll study more later. In the meantime, we’re going to watch a movie and eat the sweets I brought. I don’t want you to think about those god damn exams.” Your nod in confirmation is all he needs to get you both comfortable on the couch so he can take care of his partner... Like he should have been going this entire time.

Bokuto Kōtarō:

Kōtarō, despite people thinking he’s not the smartest, is a very intelligent person.

Especially when it comes to emotional intelligence.

Which is why he figured out about your family issues, within a month.

Poor boy wished he could do something, though other than the constant sleepovers in high school, there wasn’t much else he could do. It broke his heart.

But that changed, when you both graduated high school together.

He didn’t allow you to stay any longer in that house. You’d dealt with the constant yelling and the lack of care for your feelings, long enough.

Though, that didn’t mean you’d escaped it when you went to reunions or to visit them on holidays.

They always managed to drag you into going.

And they always managed to drag you into their bullshit.

Kōtarō hadn’t been able to go to this year’s reunion - a practice game held him up.

His presence usually encouraged your family member to back the fuck off and not drag you into things.

But, this time...

He was just glad he’d gotten there when he did.

Pulling up in the driveway of the designated home of this particular family reunion, he could hear the yelling, as soon as he stepped out of his car. The volleyball player tensed up as he quickly walked towards the home, throwing the door open without care.

    Kōtarō wished you wouldn’t put yourself through this. You didn’t deserve it. He enters the living room, most of the arguing falling silent at his presence, already knowing that he wouldn’t hesitate to get on them for their bullshit. Walking over to you, where you sat, slumped at the dinner table, your head in your hands, he frowns.

   He wasn’t surprised when he found tears in your eyes as he gently picked your head up to look at him. A frown befalls him, once again and he guides you to stand, pulling you into his embrace, his hand holding your head against him, practically cradling you.

   He holds you for a few long moments to let you calm down, before he turns towards your family, letting you go so he can take your hand. “We’re leaving. They’re tired.”

   No one argues. They’d seen how angry Kōtarō got when it came to you and they didn’t want to face the wrath of the angry volleyball player.

   Without another word from you both, or spoken to you both, Kōtarō escorts you out of the house. As soon as you’re out, you can hear the yelling ensue, once again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he whispers as he pulls you into him, once again. “It’s going to be okay.” He whispers to you, pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

   “I promise. We’ll go home and take a long bath... We can make some cookies and relax. We can even watch some Disney movies and make a pillow fort. How’s that sound, my sweet owl?” Kōtarō cooes as he begins to walk you to the car, smiling at you as he noticed how relaxed you seemed to be out, away from them and with your fiancé.

   No matter if he could help your family’s constant fighting, he’d always be here to whisper soft reassurances to you and make sure that everything was okay.

Oikawa Tōru:

Dating Tōru isn’t easy.

Living over 18,000 kilometers from one another was no easy feat.

Somedays are easier than others.

And this wasn’t one of those ‘easier’ days.

No, not at all.

Instead, today is one of those days that you tug on Tōru’s old volleyball jacket and bury your nose in the collar, hopping it’ll smell somewhat like him.

One of those days that you watch his dazzling face appear on the screen of your television and pretend he’s here with you.

It’s one of those days that you shoot him an ‘I miss you’ text and he’s unable to reply.

You both make it work because you love one another and want to watch the other succeed and do what they love.

But sometimes, it would be so much easier if you both lived on the same continent.

What you didn’t realize was that he hadn’t been to reply to you, because he was caught up getting his stuff off of the plane and into a car.

He was exhausted, but excited to see you.

He wasn’t expecting to come home and find you asleep on your couch, wrapped up in his jacket with dried tears on your cheeks.

Tōru dropped his bags at the door - he could worry about them later, right now he needed to get to you. With his signature grin, he walks through the kitchen, “Cutie,” he cooes through the apartment, before halting as he enters your living room, head tilting like a confused puppy’s would as he spotted you.

   His brows furrow and a frown crosses his lips, walking over to you and dropping to his knees in front of your sleeping form on the couch. He brings his hand up to gently stroke your cold cheek. “Y/N...” He cooes as he caresses your face, waiting for you to stir. Once you begin to open your eyes, a smile returns to his face, seeing your excitement overpower the sleepiness in your features.

   “You’re here...” You whisper, pushing yourself forward to hug your fiancé, no matter how unconventional this position was for you both. “I missed you,” you mumble into the soft cloth of his shirt, inhaling deeply. Peppermint. He always smelled like peppermint and it was a scent you had immensely missed.

   “I missed you too, cutie... But it’s okay. I’m here, now.” Tōru reassures, shifting so that he can scoop you up into his arms while you curl up into him.

   Not hesitating to want to fall asleep with you in his arms, once again, he brings you to the bedroom, dropping you onto the bed and pulling out comfier clothes for the both of you. Unpacking could wait later. Explanations of the vacation he was taking could wait. You being comfortable and in his arms was all he wanted.

   He undresses you, putting one of his shirts on you, before he undresses, as well, pulling on a pair of sweatpants, before he pulls back the covers and slides under them with you.

   Long, toned arms come to wrap themselves securely around you, pulling you into a tanned chest. “I missed you so much... But I’m here now, alright?” He whispers to you, kissing your head with a tenderness that only you got to see from the Argentinian volleyball player.

    “Go to sleep, we’ll talk when you wake up.”

    It was safe to say you fell asleep peacefully in his arms, finding peace in the fact that you’d soon be happily waking up in his arms.

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The Right Thing

Masterlist of all fanfics/headcanons/prompts here

Fandom: seaQuest 2032

Pairings: Lucas Wolenczak x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, insecurity, age difference (but legal), language (mild)

Word count: 6505 (a longer one)

Summary: You are a Lieutenant aboard the seaQuest DSV vessel, under Captain Oliver Hudson. You have been aboard for two years and in that time have grown very close to Lucas Wolenczak. But not only are you of higher rank, you are ten years his senior (he’s 20). As your feelings deepen and Lucas opens up to you about how he feels, your anxiety rises. Will everyone be judgemental of you for loving a younger man? Others aboard the boat, and shore leave, help you to see how right you and Lucas are for each other.

Comments: If you have any questions regarding this fic and the fandom, by all means message me. I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback. I will probably try and make graphics for my fics in future if people are interested in reading more of this as I have a full length fic in the works and a prequel one-shot as well. If you would like to be added to my tag list for anything seaQuest related, please leave me a message or comment. The above image shows Captain Oliver Hudson (left) and Ensign Lucas Wolenczak (right) from the show. 

Never before had you felt this awkward, torn and utterly disgusted with yourself. Whenever you sat beside Lucas on the bridge, you could feel his stare now and again as he turned his mesmerising blue eyes from the helm monitor. True, you had always had a very deep friendship with Lucas, who was now an Ensign and seemed to be on duty with you more than any other officer, but the tension was becoming too much. He was two months past twenty and you were the wrong side of thirty. However, most people assumed you to be younger than Lonnie, at twenty-one, but no, the years were against you. In fact, you were the same age as Tim O’Neill.

That day was rather uneventful. Your shift passed by without incident. You laughed with Lucas, Jim Brody and Lonnie in the mess hall. But again, you could sense Lucas’ eyes on you.

Captain Hudson was at a UEO summit meeting, leaving Commander Ford in charge. It was always more laid back and chilled when Jonathan Ford took the helm. No complaints, no shouting, no frustration. Ford had been on seaQuest now since her first tour, along with Lucas and Tim. The rest of the crew, including you, came later. All of you missed Captain Bridger, who had been more than just a Captain, but a friend and a fatherly figure.

“Have you got any plans for shore leave?” Lucas asked you suddenly.

You swallowed hard and turned to face him, pulling your headset from off your head. “Not at the moment, no,” you replied. “You?”

This was all your conversations had become now. Idle chit chat. Whereas when Captain Bridger was still your skipper, you and Lucas would spend time together, laughing at stupid movies, listening to music, taunting Tony Piccolo and simply basking in the things of youth.

Lucas knew there was something very wrong between you both; he could sense it. He didn’t have to be like Wendy Smith, psychic; he could see the cold shoulder that you gave him often. He watched you concentrate on your monitor, staring through the glasses that you always wore when on any computer or when writing. The atmosphere had changed aboard the boat when Captain Bridger left, but surely that wasn’t enough to make you grow cold.

When it was time for shift change, you walked off the bridge with Lucas. Both of you strolled slowly, side by side. “Hey, ummm,” Lucas began, stopping in the corridor. “Can we talk?”

“What about?” you asked.

Lucas sighed at the cold, abrupt edge to your tone. “Us….”

“What do you mean us?”

“No…no. It sounded weird, I know. I’m sorry,” Lucas said, silently grilling himself for sounding stupid. “Things just seem weird. We don’t spend time together like we used to, and I guess I…”

“We’ll talk later. In private,” you told him. Officers were speeding past you, starting and ending the shift rotation. It was too open for such a chat. There was a lot that needed to be said. “I’ll come to your quarters about seven. How’s that?”

“Perfect,” Lucas replied with a smile.

As you parted ways, you felt breath catch in your throat. Your hands shook and tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. You felt something for Lucas and you despised yourself, at just over ten years his senior. You were ashamed of it.

It wasn’t until you ventured from your quarters and down the corridors to Lucas’ shared quarters that you realised just how deep his feelings for you ran. You could distinctly hear his voice as you stopped outside the door, which was slightly ajar. The other person, you assumed, was Tony Piccolo.

“You need to tell her, Lucas,” the second voice came. Sure enough, it was Tony.

You waited outside the door, listening.

“I can’t stop thinking about her, Tony.”

“You’ve said that before with girls.”

“This is different. I barely knew Juliana and Sandra. I’ve spent months with her, and when I am with her, it’s like she’s my age. And she cares. I mean truly cares. Probably because she’s just as alone as I am. But lately she’s grown cold towards me. She won’t speak to me sometimes for almost an entire day. There’s no laughing anymore.”

“It’s pretty hard to laugh around here with Hudson in charge,” Tony replied.

You straightened your back and swallowed hard, bracing yourself and tapped on the door.

A few seconds later and Tony appeared. “I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t mind me,” he said, grinning at you. “Go easy on him.” Tony winked at you. All you could do was grimace and then descend the steps down into the main sleeping area which Lucas and Tony shared.

Lucas looked at you, dressed in jeans, Converse and blouse. How could you be the age you were? You looked twenty-two at most. Everything about you enthralled him; your small and discreet tattoos scattered about your body, your quirky sense of humour, the way you cared for everyone and put them before yourself, the odd looking ornaments you kept on your desk and your taste in rock music. Jim Brody had teased many times how your attitude would be suited with Tony Piccolo. But you needed people who were steady and mature.

Things were silent for a short while as you both stood a couple of feet apart, your hands shoved in pockets. Then you broke the silence and looked at Lucas. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. It’s just…Maybe I’m being arrogant, I don’t know. But I sense that you like me…”

“And does that bother you?” Lucas asked, his hands growing more and more sweaty.

“I’m a lot older than you, Lucas,” you reminded him. “You’ve only just become an adult, and I know you forget my age when we spend time together. I’m still young in my appearance and ways. Maybe I haven’t grown up myself yet.”

“I think you’re amazing,” Lucas said softly. “Why does age have to be an issue? We’re good together; I know that you know that.”

His words made something pour in your stomach and you closed your eyes, trying to shake the feelings away. “Lucas, no. Stop it, please,” you whispered.

“You have feelings for me, too. I know you do. I can see it,” he said, approaching you.

You felt his arm wind around your waist, edging you closer towards him.

“Stop it!” you cried out, pushing him away. “No means no!”

You left his quarters only moments later, leaving Lucas behind to slam his hands down onto his desk. Leaving seaQuest was the only way this would end. Lucas would move on and meet a girl his own age. And you would transfer to another boat, hopefully to ace your officer exams and get promoted to Lieutenant Commander.

That evening was long as you drowned in your own thoughts. How could Lucas be what you needed? Would he be prepared to look towards marriage and children within the next two to five years? You would be rushing him, forcing him to put aside all the years of adventure and experience to build a family. Because that was what you wanted. If you met the right man, then you would gladly take time away from your career. And Lucas seemed to think that man was him.

Around nine, a knock came to your door. Your heart leapt and you gasped, expecting it to be Lucas. But it was Tony. You knew why he was here; it didn’t take a lot for anyone to put two and two together to see the reason for his visit.

You let Tony in and sat back down in your seat. “I know why you’ve come to see me, Tony. Lucas doesn’t see the shame I feel every time I look at him.”

“I wanted to see how you’re doing, too. I know Lucas isn’t always the easiest person to say no to. In that way, he’s still a kid.”

You sighed. “We’re both still kids in a lot of ways. I’m going to put in a request for transfer. It’s the only way to solve this.”

“But you can’t,” Tony exclaimed. “Everyone loves you, you know that. It wouldn’t be the same without you. You bring a bit of life to this place.”

Tony’s words brought a smile to your face. “Thanks. This place feels more like a family than I’ve ever had anywhere else outside of my actual family.”

“Look, if you two really do like each other then nothing should stop you. Some people might think the age gap is weird, but who cares? You’re both single adults.”

You sighed again and reached for your mug of coffee which had started growing cold. “I want to think about marriage and settling down. Does Lucas want that? It’s something that needs to be thought about. I can’t be responsible for slowing him down. He’s still young.”

“And so are you. Man, you’re talkin’ as though you’re fifty. Come on!” Tony said.

You barely slept that night, constantly tossing and turning, thinking of Lucas, whom you doubted was asleep either. The air was warm and stale, and your heart raced, reminding you of the anxiety which you kept hidden. Being a Lieutenant in the Navy meant that you had been aboard vessels under attack, had nearly drowned and been shot in the leg. But it was your indecision and shame that caused you to panic uncontrollably.

Tears poured down your cheeks as you flung your legs out from the covers. You flicked on the table lamp and staggered sleepily to your chair. Writing always calmed you. In a world of discipline, uncertainty and instability, you felt so alone. Friendships were strong between you and the main crew, but you had become the glue holding them together. You listened often to Lonnie deny her budding feelings for Jonathan Ford; Tony Piccolo opened his heart to you about his unconventional family; Lucas relied on you for stability and companionship. Now was the time that you needed someone.

After finishing your journal entry, you ventured out into the corridors, finding the gentle hum of seaQuest to be soothing. In the mess hall, you poured yourself a mug of coffee from the vending machine and took a seat in the back corner of the room.

“I thought I was the only one who had insomnia,” a voice came.

“What? Oh, sorry,” you apologised, raising your head out of your hands to see Jim Brody.

“You okay?” Brody asked, approaching you. He was dressed in his uniform, obviously in the middle of night shift.

“I’ll survive,” you chuckled wryly.

“You don’t sound very convincing, you know?”

There was a sincerity in Brody’s eyes that you had always been drawn to. He never minced his words or failed in keeping his promises.

You sighed deeply and looked at your untouched coffee. “How do you handle it when you like someone but have your reservations?”

“What kind of reservations?”

“If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell another soul? I’m so ashamed.”

Brody began to look puzzled and slightly nervous. “Umm, okay.”

“Lucas admitted that he has feelings for me, and I know I feel something for him. But the age gap terrifies me, Jim. And you know how sulky he can be when you say no to him.”

Brody smiled and then sighed. “I know you two have always been close, but maybe if you’re feeling uncomfortable, it’s something you need to deal with yourself. You’re both adults and it’s down to you both. Don’t try and seek everyone else’s approval.”

“That’s what makes me ashamed: everyone else’s judgement.”

The shame and embarrassment of your admission made you look away and run your shaking hands through your short hair. It made you think back to the day you had your long locks cut off, which was the day before your first tour on seaQuest. It was an almost boyish cut, but there was no mistaking your femininity.”

“It’ll work out, I’m sure. Thanks for listening, Jim,” you said, forcing a smile.

You remained in the mess hall for a short while longer, sipping your coffee. The tall, broad figure of Dagwood drifted past the door as he cleaned. He never noticed you, but you watched him for a couple of seconds; his attention to his duty was unbroken and unwavering.

Sleep finally took you away a couple of hours later. In the dark of your quarters, you began counting. Gradually your heart rate slowed.

Suddenly your alarm was blaring! Pain rested behind your eyes and in your temples. No doubt it would remain with you for the rest of the day.

After a shower, you got dressed into your uniform and headed for the mess hall for breakfast. The bright overhead lights assaulted your eyes, making you wince.

Lucas, Tony and Lonnie were all sat together to the left hand side of the room. You suddenly felt sick, insanely sick. Tony looked at you, his eyes widening. Thankfully Lucas had his back to you. It was impossible for you to avoid him now; once you were up for duty, you couldn’t go back to quarters until the next shift rotation. On an almost mile-long submarine, and you couldn’t hide.

You grabbed fruit and a mug of herbal tea. With a huge sigh, you approached the table where your friends were, a spare seat having been left between Tony and Lucas.

Lucas swallowed hard and shifted in his seat as your perfume wafted up his nose, mixed with the smell of your sweet-scented hand cream.  

“Morning,” you said softly. Your eyes met Lucas’ and you could see the sadness swimming in them.

“You look awful,” Lonnie said. “Are you okay?”

“I didn’t sleep much last night,” you said, forcing another smile. “And it’s caught up with me this morning.”

By now and you could feel your pulse racing, thumping in your head and chest. Your hands were shaking, and you knew the day wouldn’t get any easier. Tony kept watching you as the atmosphere remained tense. Lonnie left a few minutes later, uncomfortable by the silence.

Lucas was looking down most of the time and once Tony had also left, he spoke, but didn’t look at you. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” you admitted, swallowing hard.

Lucas heard the quiver in your voice and finally looked at you. “I’m sorry,” he said simply.

Almost on instinct, you placed your hand on his. “We’ll be okay. Whatever happens, we’ll be okay. Shore leave in two days. We can talk more then.”

That morning seemed to ease some of the tension between Lucas and you. On the bridge, you began to ease back into your laughter. You temporarily forgot your fatigue and the events of the evening previous. Until Lucas held your gaze for a few seconds longer than usual. Normally you looked away, trying to avert his attention elsewhere, but this time you maintained eye contact and smiled.

Tony smirked to himself, recognising that look anywhere.

**

The next two days passed without incident. You felt more at ease now and found yourself making jokes out of mundane things. As it always had, it entertained Tony greatly. The two of you played off each other in the mess hall. A lot of your jokes were at Captain Hudson’s expense. To most people, you outwardly seemed more suited to Tony Piccolo, but those closest to you knew better. The bond you shared with Lucas was unlike any other relationship on the boat. Even though you paled into insignificance when it came to Lucas’ IQ, you could both normally tell what the other was thinking with just one smile.

On the evening before shore leave officially started, Lucas remained in his quarters after shift rotation. There was still a deep pain when he saw you. When you turned your head and smiled, your eyes shining bright, he knew that he would love no other smile. Your attention to detail was unparalleled; that was obvious from the drawings of yours which littered your bedside wall. Your mind didn’t store facts, theories and calculations like Lucas’; it was curious, deep, questioning. You observed deeply. Your genius was in colours, shape, emotion, behaviour. Not cold fact like Lucas.

The Navy had taught you to be disciplined, orderly. No more piles of clothes left at the end of your bed or un-pressed clothing that hoped no one would notice. Why had you even enlisted? Was it your wanderlust? Perhaps. Or maybe it was a way to get away from the ordinary world and embrace your difference.

A sudden knock came to your door, a metallic tap.

“Come in,” you called, placing your copy of The Lord of the Ringsback on your shelf.

Lucas entered, not quite sure why he was even visiting.

“Sorry. I was tidying. You okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” he replied.

“You think so?”

Lucas sat down on the edge of your bed and looked up at you as you placed your hands on your hips.

“Please don’t do that. You remind me of my mom,” he chuckled.

Somehow, that comment didn’t amuse you quite as much as it did Lucas. It hit a rather raw nerve that you had hoped you had figured out how to manage.

Lucas got up from his spot and stood before you, being slightly taller. “What?” he asked. You turned your head, shame surging through you again. But just then, the gentlest touch came to your cheek. Lucas’ large blue eyes were full of concern and adoration for you. His hand cupped your face and seconds later, you felt his lips against yours. Soft, unsure, but above all, kind. The kiss of a young man, some ten years your junior, was enough to remind you that there was still kindness in the world, especially amongst the male of the species.

Realisation hit you hard in the stomach and you turned from the kiss. You heard Lucas sigh and stepped back. “Have you thought about this properly? We’re at different stages in our lives. You’re just starting out in your adult years to find out what you’d like…”

Lucas cut you off. “You talk as though I have no idea what I want.”

You looked at him sadly, seeing the frustration in his face. “What experience have you had? Do you know if you want to get married? Have children? These are probably things you haven’t even considered yet. I’ve been forced to push it aside because I’m too different.”

Lucas remained quiet, not quite sure what to say.

“Please think on this more,” you said.

“I have,” he said in desperation, his hands cupping your face again. “I want to be with you, and whatever you want, you can have it.” His voice became a whisper and you kissed again.

You woke a few hours later at just after one in the morning. There was a solid warmth against your back and an arm draped over you. The two of you had fallen asleep after an evening of chatter and cuddles under the blanket.

In all the time that you had known Lucas, which was two years, you had never seen him smile so much as he had done that evening. True, since enlisting in the Navy, Lucas had had to grow up somewhat and that change in him had been amazing, going from a boy to a man. A seriousness had settled in him, overriding the boyishness.

You slid out of bed and positioned the blanket back over Lucas. He rolled over and mumbled in his sleep. Something about this still felt wrong. It made you concerned that everyone would see it as predatory. Everything that felt wrong was pushing you to begin writing up that transfer request. Crew from the infamous seaQuest were always welcomed aboard other UEO vessels. The sub still remained the pinnacle of the fleet, highly sought after by new officers for their first tour. A reserve list with thousands of names on had been written up, and if you left, then you’d open a door to someone more deserving of their placement. Allowing Lucas to get close to you had been an abuse of your authority.

“You’re making a habit of this, ain’t you?” Brody laughed, finding you in the mess hall again at an ungodly hour for the second time that week.

“Maybe I am,” you chuckled. “My sleep routine is shot to shit.”

“Did you get things sorted with Lucas?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned. “It still feels wrong. I’m seriously considering putting in a transfer. But I know that Hudson will only take a valid reason before signing off my request.”

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Brody leaned closer to you across the table.

“I can’t stay, Jim. Things are getting too deep between me and Lucas, and I know that he’s always going to expect something that I can’t give him.”

“I can’t force you to go against what you think is right, but you know we’d all miss you. None of us would want to see you go.”

“I know that, and I thank you so much. You’ve all supported me and I absolutely love working on this boat.”

“Yeah, it is a great place.”

Suddenly, you stopped rigid, eyes wide as Lucas wondered into the room. Brody turned after seeing your expression, and then wished you both a goodnight.

“You okay?” Lucas asked, replacing Brody in the seat opposite you.

“Got a lot on my mind,” you told him.

Lucas reached out and curled his hand around yours. “What’s up? Talk to me.”

Tears filled your eyes and fell down your cheeks. “I can’t do this…I’m sorry…”

“What have I done?” he whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” you sobbed. Your gripped his hand tighter until he came and sat at your side. “You need someone your own age. I’m taking advantage of you with my authority and rank.”

“How are you taking advantage of me?”

“I’m ten years older than you and I’m a Lieutenant.”

“And why should that matter?”

“I…” words were lost.

“We’re both legal age and consenting adults. So does it really matter?” You remained quiet. Then you heard the gentle whisper of your name. “Does it really matter?” he asked again.

“I was considering putting in a transfer,” you said, the words tumbling from your mouth like an avalanche.

“No….no,” Lucas begged, drawing his hand up your face. “Don’t leave me.”

You couldn’t help but kiss his hand and lean into his touch.

“Captain Bridger left. I don’t know if I could handle you leaving, too.” Lucas’ eyes were wide and full to the brim of tears. Everyone in Lucas’ life had left him or cared little, never putting him as their priority.

And you knew then that no matter the outcome of your relationship status, you couldn’t leave. Lucas needed an open ear, heart and mind to express himself to. He’d found that in you.

As everyone prepared their belongings in order to enjoy three days of shore leave, you sat in your quarters with music playing away on your com-link. There was a positive buzz outside your door and foot traffic was loud. It was always the same whenever shore leave was approaching.

A knock came to your door.

Tony appeared. “Mornin’!” he chirped happily. “All ready to go?”

“Yes, I think so,” you replied.

“Lucas told me about your conversation over the transfer. I’m glad you told him you’d thought about it. Are you still considering it?”

You sighed and looked towards Tony. “No, I’ve decided not to leave. Whatever happens, I know my place is here. Lucas has had enough people walk out on him. He needs at least one person to stay.”

“Make sure you’re stayin’ for the right reasons.”

“I thought you wanted me to stay,” you replied with a smile.

“I do. We all do. But you’ve got to want to stay for yourself.”

“Everyone here feels like the friends I never had and the family I lost touch with. Of course I don’t want to leave.”

As everyone began gathering in the corridors to head to the docking bays, you stood between Lucas and Brody, dressed in your shore uniform. As usual, Tony was telling jokes to keep everyone amused.

“Do you ever pause for breath?” you asked, laughing.

“Only when I’m sleepin’, and even then I still talk,” Tony countered.

“He’s right there,” Lucas mumbled.

Shore leave began with all of you checking into a local hotel in downtown just from the seaQuest berth. As usual, the UEO paid for all expenses incurred on shore leave.

Lucas looked on a little suspiciously when you announced that you were next door to Brody and Lonnie, but he was on the floor below. He merely smiled at you, swept a glance to Brody and Lonnie, then disappeared to his own room.

In your room, you placed your bag down on the bed and began inspecting the cleanliness of the place.

You made sure you had a bath before doing anything else. The heat relaxed you and the sweet scent of lavender and jasmine wrapped around you. For a short while and you forgot all the trials in life, all the things that kept you up at night and made you over think. Suddenly, your phone began to chime. With a groan of irritation, you lifted yourself out of the tub, wound a thick towel around yourself and picked up the ringing nuisance from your bed.

“Are you alright? You took a while to answer,” Lucas’ questioning voice came.

“I’m fine. I was taking a bath.”

“Oh, okay. Do you mind if I come and see you?”

“Give me ten minutes to get dressed. I’m in room 712.”

“Okay. Bye.”

He seemed put out somehow. You sensed disappointment in his voice. Did he think you were avoiding him purely because you took time to answer his call? There was definitely a lot that needed to be ironed out between you both.

Lucas came to your room shortly afterwards, holding two paper cups of coffee, probably from the vending machine on his floor.

You thanked him for the coffee and then sat opposite him on your bed. You pulled your leg under yourself and watched him lower his head in that way he always did when he was unsure. “If this is how things are going to be between us now, then I wish they would just go back to how they were,” he said. His voice as pained by the realisation of all the tension he’d placed on your once deep friendship. For a young man who was so intelligent, far beyond that of most people, he held a lot of insecurity and uncertainty. He wore his heart on his sleeve and had never been able to hide his true emotions. There was an honesty and innocence that drew you in. A purity of heart. But also a sadness. If everyone else had abandoned him, how could you be so selfish and do the same thing?

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

Lucas was staring blankly into his coffee. “This. All of it.” He then looked up at you. “The last few days have been hell. I haven’t known what to say or do. And even if you don’t feel anything for me, can we just go back to the way things were?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’ve driven a gap between us out of my own fear. Maybe I felt that backing away would help. Being around each other constantly only makes the feelings deepen. I’ve missed you and I do have feelings for you. A lot of them. I was scared of everyone judging me because I’m older and abusing my authority. I have to be careful, Lucas. Especially now that Captain Bridger is gone. He didn’t push Naval code like Hudson does.”

“I know that,” Lucas said, edging in a little closer towards you. That beautiful scent. It made his deeper instinct ride; butterflies were flapping with ferocity in his gut. “You worry too much about what other people think of you.”

“We’re not civilians, Lucas,” you reminded him.

“What would you have done with your life if you never enlisted?”

You took a sip of your coffee and smiled. “As a kid, I always wanted to be a vet, so I’d have worked with animals more than likely.”

“What made you enlist? You’ve never had that typical Navy way about you.”

“I finished university with a useless degree in English and I saw advertisements at a job fayre. I wanted something new and interesting. I almost failed my initial medical though.”

“Why?”

“I was taking medication for panic attacks. I stopped taking it a week before my examination and never declared it. Who wants a Naval officer who’s always anxious?”

“I don’t believe that at all. You’re probably the most chilled of anyone when we have an emergency.”

You chuckled. “I’ve learned to control it. And I find when I’m leading others, I’m more at ease. I can be calm for other people but not myself.”

That evening, a large group of you decided to head for a sit down meal at a local restaurant. Piano music was playing overhead and the lighting was dimmed, adding to a relaxing atmosphere. The waiter, a hook-nosed Italian man in overly tightly trousers, guided you over to a large, round table in the back corner.

You nudged Brody and pointed to the waiter. “It’s a wonder he doesn’t pop a nut.”

Lonnie and Tony immediately smiled, enjoying the fact that your usual self was coming back to the surface.

The whole meal was laid back, fun and light-hearted. You couldn’t help but notice the subtle glances that were exchanged between Lonnie and Jonathan Ford. Tim O’Neill seemed a little irritated by it, rolling his eyes a couple of times. When you saw Tim be so quiet, it reminded you of Miguel Ortiz, whom you had had a slight crush on when you first came aboard seaQuest. He and Tim had been good friends, and since Miguel’s passing in combat, Tim seemed a little lost at times.

By the time that the meal was over, most of the group had disappeared into the bar. There was only you, Lonnie and Jonathan Ford left at the table, which made you feel like a spare part. You excused yourself and walked out the front door of the restaurant. Chatter and laughter filled the air outside on the veranda. Dozens of people were drinking, eating and enjoying the night time air.

You began to walk, crossing the street and heading onto the empty beach. The chill in the air, the bright, full moon and the sound of crashing waves soothed you. In a hectic world where you were constantly fighting for control, you were now centred. Everything was simple. No worry. No orders. Just the stars, sand and sea.

Lucas looked for you, only to spot you standing on the beach. He could tell you from across the street. Proud shoulders, hands in pockets, bright coloured blouse, bandana in hair. That could only be you.

“You okay?” he asked.

You turned and smiled, then stepped back towards him. You curled your arm through his and put your head on his shoulder. The two of you remained quiet for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company. To Lucas’ surprise, you took his hand and held it tight.

Tony and Brody looked on from the front of the restaurant.

“If the age gap is their only concern then they’ve got more going for them than most couples,” Brody said.

“He’s definitely lucky to have her.”

By the time you made it back to the bar in the restaurant, you and Lucas were hand in hand. Tony grinned at you both and then cheered, drawing attention from the rest of the crew who were all sat in a booth together.

Laughter ensued almost immediately as all the men, apart from Lucas, began competing in a drinking game.

“One, two, three,” Tony counted, banging his free hand on the table top. All of the participants of the game tossed shots down their throats, then proceeded to continue on with a further two, downing them as quickly as possibly without vomiting. Tim O’Neill gagged, almost propelling his meal from his gut. Jim Brody fell into a coughing fit. Jonathan Ford blinked hard, pushing vodka-induced tears away. Tony merely laughed, playing a drum beat on the table.

You could sense Lucas’ eyes on you as you sat beside each other. His arm was stretched across the back of the seat behind you. His nerves were finally beginning to settle a little, reminding himself again and again that it was still you. You were the same person he had known now for almost two years and had had a bad crush on the whole time. There were so many times that he had imagined how you would feel under his fingertips, the way your lips would taste against his, the sound of your hitched breath as you kissed with passion. And you did not disappoint. All of his fantasies had fallen short of the beauty of reality.

Around midnight and the men of the group were considerably less sober than when they’d arrived for dinner just over four hours earlier. Tony was now daring Brody to go swimming in the sea naked, which the Lieutenant was actually considering to do. Ford and O’Neill were arm wrestling, leaving you to chat with Lucas and Lonnie. A bottle of expensive red wine was on the table. Lonnie sipped from her glass now and again, encouraging you to have a drink, but you never drank alcohol as it only made your anxiety worse.

“I’m going to retire to bed, I think,” you announced.

“I’ll walk you back,” Lucas proposed.

Together, you and Lucas began your short walk back to the hotel. You strolled along comfortably hand in hand. People walked past you, glancing at you for only a brief second before continuing on. No one stared like you thought they would. They were all unawares of the age gap between you both that you always thought was noticeable.

**

You woke the next morning to bright sunlight shining through the open curtains. Lucas was lying with his back to you. You slipped out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

Lucas heard the toilet flush and looked up at the ceiling, smiling. Would you regret the night previously? He hoped so much that you wouldn’t.

“Good morning,” you said with a smile, exiting the bathroom in your pyjamas.

“Morning,” Lucas replied, groggy with sleep and happiness.

You slipped back into bed and rolled over to him, kissing his lips. He seemed to gain more confidence the more that you kissed. The tension was seeping out of your actions the more that you acted on your feelings. Fear was losing its grip on you.

Both of you remained in bed for a short while, until you announced that you were getting dressed to head downstairs for breakfast.

“I’m tired,” Lucas groaned.

“Get up, Ensign. That’s an order,” you chuckled.

“Now who’s abusing their authority, Lieutenant?”

“Well if you’re expecting any kind of repeat of last night then you’re going to have to be well-behaved now, aren’t you?”

“You never seemed the type to subject me to blackmail.”

“I’m going to head down,” you said, putting the conversation back on a serious note. “Do you want me to bring you anything back up?”

Lucas just smiled. “I’ll come down with you.”

When you got downstairs, Lonnie and Commander Ford were already sat at a table for two. You and Lucas made yourself comfortable just across from them.

“How’s the head, Commander?” you chuckled.

“Strangely it’s okay. For now. No quick and sudden movements and I should be fine,” he replied with a smile.

You poured yourself a mug of English tea and began to eat your breakfast which had been served.

Tim O’Neill came half staggering into the large dining area and plopped down on a seat next to Lucas. “Remind me to never drink again,” he groaned.

Lucas looked up at you ever now and again, his blue eyes twinkling with something you hadn’t seen before. Contentment maybe? Or perhaps happiness? Whatever it was, you knew he needed both, and you hoped that you had given that to him.

The rest of that day was fairly eventful, with a visit to the local art museum with Lucas, Lonnie and Commander Ford.

Jonathan Ford couldn’t deny that he was shocked by the sudden and dramatic change in yours and Lucas’ relationship dynamic. His Navy instinct told him that something needed to be said, a warning to you both of potential consequences. But the kind side of him won out. Why try and damage that haze of happiness that was suspended around you both? Once Captain Hudson returned to the seaQuest, a relationship was something that you and Lucas would have to either end or keep secret. No way would Hudson advocate romance on his boat.

At the beach during the afternoon, Tony sat beside Lucas whilst you remained with Lonnie, enjoying an ice cream cone.

“So? What happened last night? Brody told me that you stayed in her room,” Tony enquired.

“Yeah, I stayed with her. What happened is none of your business,” Lucas replied.

“Lucas, come on! You gotta tell me. I didn’t arm you with rubber for nothin’!”

Lucas merely smirked. “Lets just say that it was put to good use.”

“Way to go, my boy!” Tony exclaimed.

“Tony, shut up. She’s only over there,” Lucas growled.

“So, I need details. How was it? Was she good?”

“None of your business,” Lucas hissed and moved away. He approached you and Lonnie, and as he looked at you, he knew there was only one word that could have described the night previously: incredible. No way was he about to disrespect you and discuss your private life with others.

“Can I borrow you for a few minutes?” he asked you.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, and got up from the warm sand. “Everything okay?”

You both moved away from the rest of the group. “Yeah. I just wanted to be alone with you for a while.”

The two of you took a slow walk down to the water’s edge, the tide returning from its long descent out towards the horizon. Hand in hand, you were silent for a few minutes. The sun’s rays were warm against your back, but a gentle breeze refreshed the air, biting through the humidity. You felt that inner calm come flooding to the surface again. Lucas’ arm wound around your waist and you prayed in silence that this was the right thing for both of you.

Understanding and acceptance: a short story consisting of things that actually happened

[A/N: I was on the phone with my mum and she told me that I seem to be in a creative mood and that I should write something. I decided to kill two birds with one stone and share a personal story while also writing it as if it’s fiction. So here goes.]

Word count: 2K

-- 2 weeks ago --

It’s a quiet Saturday evening. My brother Max and I are walking home together, deep in conversation. I have no memory of what the conversation had been about when it started, but I do remember that it somehow got to this:

‘...all this assuming you’re straight, of course, and I’m not assuming anything--’

‘What does being straight mean?’ Max says in a tone that tells me he genuinely doesn’t know. So I feel obligated to explain it in the simplest terms possible. ‘Well, in your case it would mean that you, a boy, like girls.’

‘Well, that’s the normal thing for any person!’ He nearly cuts me off with this. I calculate my next step carefully.

‘Not every person,’ I say, keeping my voice as calm as possible. ‘I’m not straight.’ Of course, he knows that. I came out to my whole family at once three years ago, hoping for the awkward discussions to be over with that. It hasn’t worked out quite as I envisioned it yet.

‘Yeah, but you’re not normal either,’ Max parries. Can’t argue with that. Lucky for me, that is when we reach the front door and each one goes off to mind their own business.

I know very well just how ‘not normal’ I am. Not in that cliche ‘I’m not like other girls’ way, but in a way that causes Bulgarians undereducated on mental health and identity labels (which is unfortunately most people over 30) to brand a person clinically insane, unstable, a threat to the Traditional Bulgarian Family™. Being aroace and having severe social anxiety and ADHD to top it off, I hardly classify as ‘normal’. This is a frequent cause for arguments at the dinner table at home, most of which end in a. tears and/ or a panic attack on my part, b. my father storming off and pretending to be asleep whenever someone goes to call him back to dinner, c. my brother gluing himself to his phone, leaving his plate half-untouched, d. my mother crying over ‘what kind of mother am I that I can’t even have my family together at the table once’, and usually e. all of the above. 

For this scenario to play out, however, the whole family of four is required to be present. So fortunately it only happens every other weekend when Dad and I come back home from the capital, where we have been living for the better part of three years now, ever since he got promoted and I started uni. When I’m away from my loving but over-controlling mum and my brother, who seemed to become obnoxious overnight the moment he turned 13 a little over a year ago, I usually have significantly fewer reasons to cry or feel anxious about... you name it. So we do fine. For the most part.

-- this evening --

I am watching Joe and Frankie’s performance of A Whole New World for the thousandth time today when I get a text from Mum.

Mum: How’s my girl doing?

Mum: I haven’t been able to hear from you with all the fuss about your brother.

Max is at that point in his education where he’s applying for high schools. His exam results have just come in and now everyone in the family is stressing about whether his scores will be enough to get him into the school he wants to go to. It’s a big deal, but with all the Rodfini magic going on (and with how terribly behind I am on my internship assignment) I have just been completely unable to care.

Speaking of Rodfini and A Whole New World, I have been repressing the instinctive urge to send my mum the video all day, and when I get her texts, I almost nearly muster up the courage to do it. But between me and her, this is not something you do over text. So I give her a ring instead. 

When she picks up, the sound of her voice combined with the anxiety over what I want to tell her makes me tear up and the words are stuck in my throat. 

‘Erm-- Mum, can I tell you something?’ I say, still not sure if I’m not about to regret taking up the subject at all.

‘Dear, you know you can tell me anything,’ she says, sounding concerned at my obviously-trying-to-swallow-tears voice.

‘You mean it?’ I ask, listening to her tone to make sure. I wish I could read tones better. ‘Anything?’

‘Is something wrong, honey?’ Oh gods, she’s in a really benevolent mood. I grow more and more afraid of ruining that with my ‘obsession with gays’. 

‘Erm, so I guess you should know Dad and I had the tiniest disagreement just now,’ I say, deciding last minute to start with something she might deem ‘more relevant to the family’s personal lives’. ‘You know, we were watching the Euros and then the match ended and we watched the news, and then Dad changed the channel so he could watch the next match. And I was like ‘whoa, what’s with the video quality’, and so dad was like ‘you really need go get your eyes checked out’; and I tried to explain that there was a very obvious difference in quality between the two channels, and he kept yelling at me that I was ruining my eyesight spending all day staring at a screen.’

‘Did he sound annoyed or just concerned?’ Mum asks me.

‘I know what you’re thinking. And I know full well that he’s my parent and he’s concerned about my health. But you should have heard his tone.’

‘So are you two in a fight now?’

‘No. Well, I don’t know.’ I really don’t. It’s hard to tell when one side of the argument refuses to talk about his feelings as if that will kill him. But I don’t tell Mum that. She’s been dealing with Dad since long before I was even planned, so she knows him better than I do. ‘The thing is, he called me back and said that, well, one of the channels was HD and the other was not, so there was indeed a difference, but he thought it was ‘unnatural’ that I was able to register it so immediately, and he kept insisting there was something wrong with my eyes. I should think that seeing something quickly would be a sign of good vision, not bad. Besides,’ I keep talking, nearly  desperate to justify myself, ‘I did some research and sensitivity to light is a symptom of ADHD. So it’s nothing new, really.’

‘Oh, please, dear. You’re of a new generation, and ADHD is something of the older generation. Don’t be so quick to self-diagnose.’

I guess there’s some reason to what she says, or at least the last part of it, so I give up on pursuing the subject further. ‘Yeah, anyway,’ I say, ‘I just thought it was all a bit rich coming from the man who refuses to wear his prescription glasses. I haven’t got any prescription glasses, you know.’

I don’t want to come off too cheeky because I still want to try and talk to her about how happy Rodfini have made me today. A while ago, Mum would accuse me of only calling her to complain when I was unhappy, so I have since made it a point to call her when I am happy and tell her so. That’s why I’ve been itching to share this with her. And now the time has come.

‘You know, I’ve been crying in a completely different way today,’ I begin tentatively. ‘A good way, A really, really good way,’ I add quickly before she can get worried again.

‘Yeah? So what was it that made you so happy that you cried?’ Goodness, there’s no turning back now. I decide to proceed with caution.

‘Oh, well, it was this performance, you know. A really beautiful song. So I’ve been wanting to show it to you, but I was worried about how you’d react.’

‘And why would that be?’ she asks in the same kind tone that keeps making me anxious about potentially ruining everything.

‘Well, erm...’ I feel myself start to stutter. ‘See, it’s a love song, and it’s... ok, I’ll just say it. It’s sung by two guys. As in, a couple, you see.’ I keep feeling up the ground with my words, anxious to hear her reaction. It’s like when I’m opening an exam result -- I want to know, but I’m too scared to look. And so now, in my anxious despair to know what she thinks about it, I miss the beginning of her response. ‘And I know how you are about those things, so I...’ I genuinely don’t know what to say. I’ve done my thing again. I’ve kept talking so much that she hasn’t even been able to react audibly. So I trail off, determined to let her speak this time.

‘Ok, but... why do you get so affected by those things?’ Mum says, starting to sound suspiciously like she’s about to question my own orientation again. I feel the need to justify myself for the second time since the conversation has started.

‘Well, it’s just that... I really wish you would just see them, Mum. If you could just see how they look at each other, you’d see that there’s just love. So much love. And joy at being able to express themselves as they are.’

I’m speaking from the heart now. I am finally letting out how much I want her to give them a chance because she deserves to see and hear their magical performance. She must be sensing the anguished sincerity in my voice as I finally manage to stop crying and I smile through the tears, because she says, ‘Dear, are you... are you trying to tell me something there?’

I sigh. She’s asked me this question nearly every time I’ve started speaking ‘too’ passionately about anything LGBTQ+ Which isn’t an awful lot in her presence, but there have been several occasions. Once about Solangelo, at the beach. Once about NPH and his husband David and their children, at the dinner table, as I was trying to explain how same-sex couples can have kids; that one resulted in a seriously bad scene of the type I described earlier. Once about a participant in a reality show who identified as a gay man then, but has recently come out as a trans woman; whenever she’s been mentioned on television, I’ve fought to repress my inner urge to express my happiness for her and the representation she is for the Bulgarian LGBTQ+ community. I wonder even now if my parents have noticed my silence on the subject -- because they certainly do notice when I am not silent.

So now, when the time seems to have come for me to set things straight about my non-straight-ness (bad pun very much intended), I try my best to keep my voice from shaking. ‘I’m not trying to tell you anything I haven’t already told you, Mum. Really.’

‘Are you perhaps attracted to the same gender, dear?’ It seems so unbelievable that she’s said it, and even more that she’s worded like that, but she really has. I force myself to be calm and patient.

‘No, Mum. I’ve told you -- I am not attracted to any gender, be it male, female or anything else, really. You know that.’

‘Well, it sounded as if you--’

‘No, Mum. Really. But I do need you to understand that part of my identity is that I feel the need to support people with other identities different from straight. I’m happy for their successes. I'm concerned about their issues. They’re a sort of family to me. Do you understand that?’ I say, relieved to be speaking my truth at last. At the same time, I try to sound as reasonable and mature about the whole thing as possible. I don’t want to put her off, especially not now that I’m knee-deep in the subject already. I’ve gone too far to turn back now.

‘Yes, honey. Yes, I do. I just don’t want you to exert yourself emotionally, is all. Plus I’ve been so stressed out about your brother and all, you know...’

‘Yeah, I do know. And I know he’ll be fine. He’s a nice boy. I just wished he didn’t keep calling me ‘abnormal’ all the time...’

‘Oh, well, don’t listen to him. He’s been quite stressed out too. And he’s 14. It’s just how he is at this age.’

I’m not too sure about that. ‘Boys will be boys’. It’s ok for boys, then, to pour salt into their neurodivergent sisters’ wounds? I don’t think so. But I can’t fix every problem in one talk. Plus my mum sounds tired now.

So I just say, ‘I guess... Well, anyway, thank you so much, Mum. For hearing me out, and for supporting me, and for everything else. Please don’t worry so much.’

But I know she can’t not worry at all. I’ve got that from her.

‘If you’re sure you’re all ok now, dear...’

‘Yeah, mum, I am. Or I will be. You know, there’s this expression with English, ‘to run with something’. So I’ve been telling myself, I’ll at least try to walk with things. You know I’m not much of a runner anyway.’ I actually laugh, even though the pun is quite untranslatable into Bulgarian.

‘You know I’m proud of you, right?’

I know that has very little to do with the kind of pride I’ve been celebrating all month, but I say, ‘Of course I do. And you know what? I’m quite proud of myself, too.’ I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I mean it. I mean it wholeheartedly this time.

‘I’m nearly falling asleep, though, dear, so I say we call it a night?’

‘Good night, Mummy. And thanks.’

I hang up. Then I forward the video to her.

I’ve come so far, indeed. I reckon we both have.

- Erasure - 1

Hwang Hyunjin x Female Reader

With washed out, dyed pastel hair, sea salt and acrylic clinging to his jeans, Hwang Hyunjin expected to find himself many places that night. A jail holding cell. Under the abandoned train station bridge. Maybe even his own bedroom.

Your living room wasn't on the list.

Warnings - Some angst in later chapters, suggestive/smut, minor character death mentions, Hyunjin is an eboy and a little angsty, Changbin is doing his best as a big brother, slow burn (?)

A/N - Finally! Sorry for the delays, my head just hasn’t been with me this week;; I hope you enjoy this series as much as I am excited to write it. 

***

The steady buzzing of your speakers fills the living room as you watched Changbin scroll through the Netflix home page. Both of you settle deep into the sofa, balancing a bowl of popcorn and chocolate between your knees. 

“Endgame? Homecoming, Nightmare on Elm Street?” Binnie flicks through the suggestions, and you shake your head in distaste. “I'm not watching that octopus documentary again!”

“You only hated it because you cried at the end.”

“She died! He had to look after her little babies! Your heart is too cold, too far gone for that level of compassion.” The last part of your brother's grumbles are cut off when you throw a burnt kernel at his forehead, barely missing his ear. 

There’s nobody else home. Nobody else ever comes home, either. It's been just you and Changbin for a while, and it's not all that terrible. He’s a few years older than you, having graduated last summer and now undertaking an apprenticeship at the village police station. It doesn't pay a stellar amount, but Changbin reassures you once he passes the trainee exams he’ll treat you to a new pair of winter boots and you can finally quit the ice cream parlour to focus on college. You tell him that even if he wins the lottery tomorrow, you'll work your own job. For all the support your elder brother gives you, you like having your own thing. It makes you feel a little more involved, a little more even than jsit washing the dishes and doing his laundry on days he’s too tired to move. 

The Thursday evening is reserved for you both, to catch up on the hours together you miss during the week when Changbin doesn't get back till you're fast asleep and you don't have the chance to say good morning. 

He’s been doing that a lot more recently. 

Sighing into his coffee, shaking his head at nobody in particular. It's easy to notice the signs of stress and overwork in his face, sunken and tired even on the weekends when he finishes early. 

“Do you wanna finish Teen Wolf?” The softness in his voice when he addresses you is the same, though. “We have three episodes left of this season, if you wanna binge.”

“Sure.” You want to ask him about the circles under his eyes. What’s got him coming home later and later because nothing ever happens in this town. “I'm still waiting on Derek’s redemption arc.”

You're twenty minutes into the episode when a vibration from your coffee table catches your attention. You glance at Changbin, but he ignores his ringtone, flipping it to silent.

It rings again, no music, but harsh vibrations drumming against the polished wood. 

And again.

Knowing he’s not picking up to make a point of it, you pause the show, nodding at the mobile he’s avoiding glancing at. “Go on. Pick up, it might be an emergency.”

“If it's an emergency they don't need an intern there.” Despite his words, Changbin shifts his position and you know he’s growing hesitant. 

“If it's an emergency all the more reason for you to be there and learn.” You state with more force behind your tone. “Why have your grades been dropping? You're coming home so late but your exams keep getting delayed -”

“My grades are fine!” Changbin never snaps at you, but the frustration in his voice is evident. “I'm fine. There's just - Just one case we're working on and I'm nearly there, I just need time.”

You shut your mouth, letting him speak.

“There’s this kid who keeps tagging the beach houses on Dawning Lane, and that shit  was expensive to put up last year. Some stupid, bored child that thinks a few cans of spraypaint and lung cancer are a good excuse for your adolescence. He’s not even that good… Just scribbles.”

His lips pout in a frustrated whine at the last phrase, and you know he’s more frustrated at the situation than he is at you or himself.

A beat of silence, interrupted by another ringtone - you almost reach for it yourself to check the caller ID and force him to pick up, before Changbin’s arm shoots out past you to snatch the device, slinking out the door and into the hallway. 

You aren't surprised when a few moments later, your brother’s head pokes nervously out the door frame - He's already got his coat on, waving his phone at you as an awkward goodbye. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, y/n.”

“Yeah, see ya.” You salute back, smiling to ease the tension in his shoulders, and it works a minimum. You won’t see him till the late evening at best.

The door clicks shut as soon as he turns around, leaving you surrounded by popcorn and empty space. You really aren't surprised - but it'd be pointless to deny you weren't hurt by another night alone with Teen Wolf playing idly through your TV speakers. Cold popcorn only did so much to soothe your heart, and the distance wedging itself recently between your sibling bond was hard to brush over, between missed calls and texts too often left unanswered. 

You just really miss your big brother.

 You commit yourself to Stiles Stilinsky instead, sighing into the blanket around your shoulders. Autumn rolls in quick by the seaside, making your calves prickle with goosebumps. It's nearing 11pm, you realise, picking up the -

Thump!

Your fingers freeze, hovering over the TV remote. Changbin wouldn’t be back yet, he never comes home the same night he leaves. 

“Bin?” You try it anyway, calling tentatively into the hallway. It’s still entirely black, void of disruption.

Clang!

That definitely came from your kitchen.

Armed with a half empty popcorn bowl and nerves of steel, you tiptoe into the other room. There’s a lump of something or someone crouched behind the dining table, and your grip around the glass dish tightens marginally despite the quivering of your knees, fumbling for the lightswitch without taking your eyes off the rising dark mass as it straightens its back. 

“S-Stay down! I have corn and I know how to use it!” You don’t have a fully formed plan yet, but you’re sure the sharp kernels will be of some importance. Fluorescent white light floods the kitchen, momentarily blinding both you and the intruder who now stands at full height. A steady 12 inches above you. 

“Ouch! Calm down, I’m not going to rob you!” He says, sounding almost exasperated at your defense of your own property. He still has his hands raised in defense, keeping the table between himself and you, and you’re grateful he hasn’t tried to knock your legs out from under you, yet. “I’m not here to steal your stuff.”

“What are you here for, then?” You lower the popcorn bowl, but don’t let it fall out of your grasp. He doesn’t seem dangerous - He doesn’t seem like he could manage clambering through the window you always leave ajar either, but here he clearly is. There’s something sticky and pink in his blonde hair, stains following down his shoulder blades all the way down the cuffs of his jeans. If anything, he looks...a little lost.

“It’s the address on the post-it note.” Your confusion must have been plainly obvious, because the boy elaborates, pulling a crumpled neon-green paper from his jacket. “The post-it note that man gave me. That’s what Changbin gave me.”

Perhaps you lack self preservation instincts, but there’s an uncertain vibration in his voice that makes you give up your weapon and attitude. 

“You know my brother?” 

“He told me if I really need to go somewhere, I can come here.” You watch slim fingers tug at the sleeves of his jacket as he measures with a weight akin to a glare. “He didn’t tell me it was his house, or that somebody else was living here.” 

Bold of him to accuse you of ruining his night plans. 

It really did only click in your head when you looked closer at his tangled hair, dried paint clumping it together at the ends of bleached blonde strands. The  artistic menace haunting your sea-side town was standing right on your tiled kitchen floor, and he looked downright miserable. 

And Changbin had invited him. 

Biting down the discomfort at realising how little Changbin had been telling you recently,  you set the popcorn down on the table, you take in the threat currently three feet before you. A tall, lanky boy, with odd shoelaces and a sharpie sticking out of his trouser pocket. His hair hasn’t been cut in a while, and probably brushed either - it’d be generous to say he ran more than a stressed hand through it anytime recently. Though chapped, his full lips and wide eyes made him look far too innocent for his own good, and you blamed your soft heart for finding the boy kinda cute. 

He did have a leaf stuck above his ear, though. 

You almost reached up to remove it.

“Do you wanna watch Teen Wolf?”  You break the quiet that settled, already shuffling your feet out into the living room. You sincerely hoped he’d follow. You weren’t sure what you could do apart from leaving him standing on cold tile, and he already looked freezing from the night chill. 

Luckily for you, with a hesitant step, your impromptu companion takes after you to the couch where your Netflix and remove still await instruction. Changbin might grumble at you tomorrow at finishing the season without him, but you needed something to lure the boy into comfort. 

“I’m y/n, by the way.” You mention. The boy sits stiffly, clasping his hands in his lap with parted lips, avoiding the decorative pillows. 

“Hyunjin.” Now that he’s actually inside your house, Hyunjin’s confidence seems to have evaporated. The thrill of the break-in, if you can even call is that, has worn off, giving way to the nerves. He’s suddenly too conscious of the paint on his clothes, of sandy shoes still on his feet, of the smudges still on his cheeks. Should he take his jacket off? Or wipe his shoes? 

You press resume, watching him relax after a few minutes as his brain finally has something else to focus on to let his worries ease. Hyunjin doesn't seem to mind you already being halfway through the episode, and you let yourself admit it’s nice having someone around this late at night. 

“How do you know Changbin?” You ask while the topic is still fresh.

“I don’t.” Hyunjin bumps his knees together, fiddling with a loose string on his jeans as he shrugs. “I don’t really know him, he just...saw me around a few times, and I guess he figured I could use a place to crash. So he gave me your address.”

“You’re the mystery kid painting the beach houses, right? On Dawning Lane.” 

At the accusation, Hyunjin’s lips part, flipping to face you with wide, blinking eyes., knowing he’s in no place to try and deny it. You blink back, observing his reactions, in case he suddenly changes his mind about staying. “Are you gonna turn me in?...” 

“No.” You shake your head after a moment of thought, and he visibly untenses. “For whatever reason Changbin didn’t, so I won’t either. If he trusts you then I do too.” 

You’ll never know if it was the murmurs of the TV, or if Hyunjin did whisper a thank you, and you won’t ask. There’s a lot of things you do want to ask, but a tug in your heart tells you now is not the time. Hyunjin looks exhausted, eyes drooping with every slow blink as he does his best to focus on the screen, hands previously tugging at his jeans now still and flat on his lap, slouched forward as if any moment he’ll drift off sitting on your pillows. Flurries of fluorescent light flicker on his cheeks, over barely scrubbed paint smudges and faint cuts from running too fast, you guess. In the delicate, dimmed light of your floor lamp, it’s hard to imagine Hyunjin as a bad kid. Prickly, maybe. On edge is a better word for it, tension clinging to his shoulders like stubborn dust bunnies. Curse your naive little heart, you tell yourself, building up your courage to speak.

“Hyunjin?” He hums in response, straightening his back. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

All you’ve been taught in life sent alarm bells through your skull when you asked a complete stranger (who just two hours ago, broke in through your kitchen window) to sleep in your living room overnight, but Hyunjin didn’t feel  like a stranger. Changbin trusted him enough to lead him right to your house, so that must count for something, right? And no matter how much you tried to keep your guard up around the boy, watching him struggle to stay upright instead of letting his tall, lanky body fall backward and rest comfortably only made you worry a little about him, not the other way around. 

Well, he did say he’s not going to rob you. 

“You can sleep on the couch if you want, I’ll bring you some blankets.” You prompt him again when he doesn’t respond. “Changbin won’t be back for a while still.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” There’s a lilt of doubt in his voice, but he sincerely hopes you’re serious. This couch is warmer than anything he’s slept on in months and he really doesn’t want to crawl outside again with the rain pattering against your roof. 

“Sure, you haven’t tried to stab me yet.” You shrug, getting up to fetch a duvet and looking him over.

“Ah, you probably want to wash your hair from all...that,” Hyunjin’s hand flies to his hair, patting out the tangles as if it’s the first time he’s noticed them. “You can use the bathroom upstairs, there’s towels by the shower already.”

He nods, following your directions with a ‘thank you’. Once his footsteps disappear up the landing, you set about pulling out the couch into a flatbed, rearranging the pillows at its base. Lugging the duvet down from Changbin’s room had been a feat, but you’re determined to make the space welcoming. Satisfied with the cushioned bundle you created, you run back upstairs. 

You invade your brother’s room for the second time that day, tugging open his drawers in search for something acceptably pijama-like. 

“Hyunjin?” You knock tentatively on the bathroom door as the shower head turns off and the shuffling ceases. “I’m leaving some clothes for you to change into outside, okay? Come downstairs when you’re ready.”

You scroll through your timeline as you wait, catching up on the last few hours’ events from your friends until a shuffling to your left prompts you to raise your head. 

Your brother’s sweats hang a little loosely around Hyunjin’s hips, ending just above his ankles, bare feet sliding over the wooden floor of your living room, sinking into the rug as he steps closer to where you sit. His own clothing cradled in his arms close to his chest, you can’t stop your thoughts drifting momentarily to the damp mess of sunshine coloured hair. With his jacket on earlier, it was hard to make out his build under layers of fabric, but now it’s proving a challenge to not focus on the lines of his arms or the curves of his large hands gripping his clothes. Luckily for your dignity, your nerves of steel allow you to drag your gaze away from the collarbones peeking out from under thin white cotton higher to meet his eyes instead and find your voice again.

“I brought down some pillows for you, these are a bit too hard to sleep on.” You note, pointing to the decorative cushions you moved onto the lounge chair. “My room is right opposite the bathroom if you need anything, I’m a light sleeper.” 

“M’okay.” Hyunjin towers above you, yet you’ve never seen a boy so dainty. There really is no other way to describe the delicate line of his nose bridge or the rosy tint of his lips when his tongue pokes out to lick them as he mulls over your words, settling down on the makeshift bed. 

The proximity now feels different than the air between you when Teen Wolf still blared through your speakers, warm quiet heavy on your tongue with dim golden glow tumbling over his cheekbones that’s too much for your heart to take unprepared.

“Goodnight then!” You bounce up from the couch waving Hyunjin a quick goodbye, but a soft hand wrapping around your wrist pauses you. 

“Wait,” Hyunjin brushes his thumb over your palm softly, and you hope he doesn't notice the goosebumps on your skin at the contact. “Thanks for not kicking me out...or calling the police. Y’know, as most people would for a break in.” 

The smile he flashes you is almost teasing, but you can tell he means the words sincerely. You lay your other hand on top of his, patting in what you hope is a reassuring motion.

“Sure, Jinnie. It’s okay.”

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 23

Read on AO3

Read chapter twenty-two

Title: Choice

Words: 8200

Summary: When one is hurt, comfort is imperative.

ST Rambles: Hello! It has been nearly a month, not quite, but I have missed you all so entirely too much to admit. This story is my heart, and sharing it means the world to me. I took my first exam of the semester this morning and wanted to finish this chapter so I could upload prior to going to my first maternal-newborn clinical rotation on Saturday.

During my time away I have had the opportunity to read many amazing works, whether they be one-shots on tumblr or ficlets right on A03. One that has evoked such a strong response in me has been Three Blind Tooke by ElmiDol. She is a beautiful soul with such a gift for storytelling. I have quickly fallen in love with this story and I hope to encourage many of you to do the same.

My plan for the semester and writing is to take one week writing and then take one week to read the stories that I want. I think this will provide the necessary balance needed for me to be successful in school while also creating and enjoying other creator's content.

[MASTERLIST]

Time has always had a funny way of making itself scarce when needed most. It seemed that you could barely remember the trial, like it had never happened and all that remained to prove that it had were the restraints locked tight around each of your wrists and your neck. Above you sounded the molten, fatal buzz of the plasma guillotine, though it was mere background noise to the riotous cacophony of the rabid crowd awaiting your final moment. As you knelt, trembling against the icy durasteel, face frozen under cold-stuck tears, you tried and failed to settle into acceptance that this would be your last act of life.

“Please,” you whimpered, unsure if anyone could hear you, “I… I saved that man’s life. I didn’t hurt anyone. I don’t deserve to die for keeping my oath.” You tried to scream but the pleads were barely whispers.

Out of sight came a bellowed laugh, full and ragged just as it had been in the past. “That isn’t why you’re here, young officer.” Snoke could hardly contain his glee. “You’re forgetting, you may have saved one life, but you took another.”

Nausea waved through you and your head started pounding; Snoke’s presence was pain, magnified with each echo of his words as the arena shook against the surround sound. An uproar of cheers and chanting came from before you, the crowd booming with enthusiasm, hanging off of every word their Supreme Leader spoke.

Through the fog of terrified eyes you saw an image appear behind the audience, scaling the entire back wall and striking you with rage. A scrollbar read something you could only assume to be his First Order given name, your focus too centered on the enormous projection of Robbie’s face, smiling while he held his helmet tight against his chest. He looked too nice, just as he’d seemed when you gave him a name. He was being renowned as a hero, his death marking you as the villain.

“I… He! I was defending myself, he was going to kill me!”

“But instead you killed me.”

This voice was angelic, familiar and welcoming in the storm surrounding you. It was accompanied by the footsteps you’d become so fond of, coming closer with every panted breath that fell from your lips. Kylo crowded your view of the blinding screen, a cape trailing in his path. He stopped when he was centered in your view and crouched so he was eye level with you.

He wore no mask, nothing to conceal his beautiful visage as the sight of him constricted your heart. When was the last you’d seen him? It felt like it had been so long, yet you could barely grasp any concept of time. It was frustrating, like you were barred in your memory. Kylo’s face gave no indication into his emotions, yet for a fleeting moment you swore you saw a tear glint over his cheek.

“Yet another of your victims, yes?” Snoke remained hidden, his voice shifting between your ears, slithering like the snake he was.

“You made me! I had no-,”

“Choice.” It was a discordant wrath of voices; at first Kylo’s, then Snoke’s, trailing off with the whispers of Robbie’s and Mason’s.

Kylo brought one hand, bare and freezing, to your cheek. It hadn’t been there before, but his face was now split with the consequences of battle, a gash – open, pulsating, and weeping – ripping through his features. A shiver sank into you, you throat tightening.

The way in which he next breathed your name made you weep, his thumb catching the tear that burned into your skin. “You’ve always had a choice, remember? You just keep making-,”

“The wrong ones.” You finished his sentence, remembering the first time he’d said it. A futile attempt was made to reach for his hand, a sting coming as the restraint bit into your wrist.

The crowd was growing impatient, hordes of screams coming from behind Kylo’s shoulders. The screen behind him shifted to present the live cast of your suffering, the view suggesting that it was Kylo’s own eyes giving view to the onlookers, your face excruciatingly close, allowing every audience member to bask in the terror that plagued you.

You sniffled, nuzzling into his hand and looking between his eyes. He mimicked you, though his gaze was empty, just as it had been one of the last times you could remember seeing him. “I trusted you,” he said. “More than anything.”

Kylo began to leave you, his fingertips lingering just before he could take three steps backwards. The plasma blade above you began hissing louder with inevitability, your eyes squeezing shut as you awaited your sentence’s completion. Pain took root in your left upper thigh, a kind of burning as you continued to kneel. A string of agony tore through your throat as your eyes shot open to see Kylo’s hand shoot up.

“No, no! Please! Kylo, no!” You could see your face twist with desperation behind him now, tears willful in their presence as each one painted creaks of pain down to the durasteel.

Snoke let out another flood of evil-tinged amusement as Kylo turned his face toward the direction the sound came. “You still don’t understand, stupid girl.” Another bark of laughter. “You might have had a choice,” he said, “but your Master never did. Never will.”

And as they were spoken, you saw that crushing glimmer of humanity flicker in the face of Kylo Ren as he turned back to you. Snoke, infuriatingly, was right, of course. Hearing it out loud, accepting it as fact, calmed you down. Staring up at him, watching his fingers twitch, you spent your last remaining second pitying him for all the control he believed he had, knowing more than he did that it was a masterful mirage. Snoke had Kylo wrapped around his finger; you had only aided in tightening his grip.

More than anything. It was the last thought before you heard the overhead blade drawing near, its volume immense until it wasn’t. The next thing you were aware of was the overbearing smell of flatcakes wafting into your nostrils. Taking a few deep breaths, your attention went to the ache twisted into the back of your skull, the dryness sticking to your lips, and the warm weight present over your right leg.

Taking one more deep breath, you coughed, lungs feeling like they’d been stagnant for a while, rejecting the stretch of air. Light was obvious even as your eyes remained shut, its overwhelming presence leading you to blink a few times before adapting.

“Where am I?” you croaked out. Answering your question, you first saw the familiar polygon meal tray sitting atop a bedside table while your watch rested next to it, next catching view of the pulse oximeter resting over your left index finger. This was the medbay.

The first thing that came to mind was your dream, remembering Kylo’s wounded face. He was hurt. Where was he? Was he okay? The monitor to your left sounded louder as your heart rate accelerated. Warmth left your right leg as you saw something move in your periphery. A person.

Mason had been asleep, his hair stuck to his face when he first looked at you with shock and relief. “You scared me!” He sprung up from the chair he’d been sitting in and flung his arms around you. “The news about Starkiller came and I didn’t know where you were.” He hummed your name into your neck while rocking you back and forth. “I thought you were… I thought you had… I didn’t know…”

“Mason.” It was all you could think to say, your arms resting at your side as he kept his hold on you. Maybe you should’ve felt relief that he was here and that he was okay, but all you could feel was regret and an overwhelming sadness. Mason was none the wiser, but his very existence was a reminder of what you’d done, undeniable proof of the choice you’d made.

He finally leaned back, keeping his hand locked around yours and staring down at you with red-rimmed eyes. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his nerves settling more the longer he looked over your face. “I tried calling you—” a laugh accompanied the distant raise of his brows “—but I lost my commlink. I guess. I actually don’t know-,”

“What?” you interrupted his explanation, confused by his recall of events, wondering why Snoke wasn’t the focal point of his reasoning.

His face fell. “What? Did I say something? Are you hurt? Do you need water? Food? I actually ordered some flatcakes for me, but they’re all yours if you-,”

“You lost your commlink?”

His brow creased and his thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Yeah? Yeah. I mean. I guess. It’s been crazy around here today and—” his face bloomed in horror “—oh, fuck! I didn’t mean that your day hasn’t been bad, I just. Yeah. I lost it.”

He didn’t seem like he knew anything about Snoke, or that he remembered ever enduring the pain you’d heard him scream through the communication device earlier – actually, how long had it been?

“So… There was nothing… I mean, you weren’t… Summoned? Or…?”

“Summoned?” Mason looked at you with amused confusion. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t give you any pain medicine, but you’re acting a little loopy.”

He didn’t know. He was blissfully ignorant to Snoke’s involvement in your or his life. Again, instead of relief you were met with that bleakness from before. “Maybe I was just dreaming,” you brushed it off.

Dreaming. Kylo. “I need to see him,” you mumbled, moving to stand and becoming extremely aware of your left leg once more. A hiss left you before Mason could pull your shoulders back against the bed, your hand reaching down to soothe the blanket-covered wounds.

“Not so fast,” he said. “Doctor Belkar wants to examine you before you start walking.”

“Belkar?” You couldn’t remember ever hearing that name, though your memory may not be the most reliable at the moment.

“I heard my name.” A man – shorter, skinny, and dark-skinned – peered into the door before knocking and stepping in. “Oh, good! Glad to see you’re awake. You had us worried there for a moment.” Belkar took a few more steps so he was on your left, clutching a datapad under his arm and smiling down at you. His presence was comfortable and professional. He seemed to possess a bedside manner not common of many physicians, and he’d barely even spoken.

Squinting towards his badge you found his first name. “Trace Belkar.” You sounded it out, feeling a faint sense of familiarity. Looking to his face, it finally struck you. “Oh! You’re, you are the one who… You helped me with my friend earlier.” Warmth set in your cheeks when you realized you knew him.

“Ah! My first surprise patient of the day. Funny how things seem to come full circle, isn’t it? Now-,”

Further realization hit. “You also helped me that night. I was the nurse who…” Maybe he didn’t remember who you were, and maybe he didn’t need to, given your actions that night were rather infamous currently.

“Yes! I knew you looked familiar seeing you yesterday. You are the nurse that saved my patient’s life. Great work that night, by the way. Fast-thinking, resourceful. Gives me hope for the next generation of medics.” A quick smile flashed across his face before he reached into his coat pocket. “Now, if you don’t mind following my finger with your eyes.”

It probably took too long for you to follow his request as you were taken aback by his praise for that night. The only emotions you’d ever attached to that it had been pain and fear, likely influenced by the way you were being reprimanded at the moment, thinking of that night as a crime rather than the miracle that it was for that man.

“Um, yes. Sorry.” You shook your head and followed the tip of his finger as he dragged it around – up and down, right to left, and finally in a diagonal cross.

“Any nausea, pain, weakness, dizziness, headaches?” His tone was absent while he traced his penlight in and out of sight to finish his PERRLA assessment.

“I’m really fine. This isn’t necessary at all.” You couldn’t stand being treated like a patient. Even when you were one. Knowing the inner workings of every check made it difficult not to see through their purpose. “I could probably leave now and I’d be fi-ah!” You’d tensed your wounded leg without thinking when shifting in the bed.

“How’s that leg treating you?” It seemed he was psychic in his assumptions, though you knew he’d probably had a nurse do a head-to-toe assessment while you were out.

Mason was puzzled when you looked over at him. “What’s wrong with her leg? She passed out. What’s wrong with her-,”

“Mason, will you go find me some water? And maybe a warm blanket? Please.” Your eyes were locked with Belkar’s as you quieted Mason, mindlessly squeezing his hand to encourage his leave. Mason did not need to see your brand. He wouldn’t understand, and you didn’t feel like having to explain to him, that you felt deserving of it and much worse.

There was a silent moment as you watched Belkar and felt Mason’s eyes before he squeezed your hand back and told you he’d be back soon. The door shut behind him and the quiet swallowed you.

“From what I read in your chart it seemed you’d given yourself a makeshift dressing. Your nurse was actually impressed at how well it was done. I do have some questions about the scars under it, though. If you don’t mind.” He seemed to know to tread lightly; his demeanor reminded you of the one you were instructed to use on abuse survivors.

You shook your head, but this only clued you into another pain. “Jeez! Ow!” Your hand fled to your forehead, finding a bandage sealed over a large bump. It was tender to touch, flinching as you remembered Robbie banging your head into the door.

Belkar took his datapad from under his arm and tapped away as you recovered. “There.” He pressed the screen once more before returning it to its original spot. “The nurse should be in here soon with some-,”

“I don’t want it.” You swallowed, dropping your hand and staring at your lap.

Belkar paused and shifted in his stance. He clicked his tongue, put his datapad down, and pulled up a chair. He called you by your last name, professional yet with a considerable amount of concern. “Will you tell me what caused your injuries?”

He was attempting therapeutic communication. And he was succeeding. An uncomfortable laugh left you. “What is there to tell? I’m hurt. In ways that aren’t physical. Ways that are.” Your lip began to quiver before you caught it with your teeth.

Another pause from Belkar. His hand twitched and your eyes jumped to it. He noticed this. “Can I hold your hand?”

The offer was tempting, but you declined by shaking your head and finally looking up at him. There were crinkles splayed outward from his eyes and gray hairs obvious in an overgrown stubble on his cheeks. He was a kind soul, you could tell; it was evident in his eyes, clear and green yet full of warmth. Soon after setting eyes on him you felt your throat thicken and your eyes water.

“You know,” you laughed, scraping at your eyes and sniffling, “I don’t even know what I’d say to any of the questions you mentioned before.”

A kind smile, no teeth, brought his cheeks up. “How about just one, then?”

“Yeah. One. I guess.”

He made sure your eyes were on his before he spoke again. “Do you want to report the person who did this to you?”

Another nervous laugh left. And then a sob before the heels of your hands met your face. “That’s not necessary,” you said through hiccuped words. Robbie’s face flashed into your mind’s eye, the pool of blood spreading below him before the door hissed shut. Your dream, the screen presenting his smiling face. “I… I don’t even know what to do anymore! I can’t… I have… I can’t fix this!”

Belkar squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality. His face was blurry through your tears. “Slow down. Just breathe. Shh. Slow down.” He modeled how to do so, exaggerating when he took a deep breath through his nose.

After several breaths you closed your eyes and threw your head back on the pillow, keeping your hand in Belkar’s. “I’m sure you’ve seen the scars? Or read about them at the least, right? And then I know you were the one who caught me before I passed out so you obviously know who I work for.”

“Are those two things related?” He was trying not to assume anything.

“All that matters is that this—” you gestured to your head “—and this—” you placed a gentle hand over your wrapped thigh, petting a thumb over it “—are unrelated.” Belkar knew not to speak when you choked on your tears in search of words you weren’t even sure you wanted to say. “I was… Someone broke into my residence just before the explosion. And he.” You paused again, feeling Belkar’s grip tighten and relax over your trembling hand. You cleared your throat. “I was taken advantage of. He went down with the base. It would be pointless to report when the perpetrator is already dead.” Bloodied scissors flashed into your memory before you looked back up to Belkar.

He nodded, placing his second hand over yours. The warmth was welcome, and surprising. “Should I order an emergency contraceptive or a spermicide?” There wasn’t a fraction of discomfort when he asked the question. Complete care and professionalism. He felt safe.

“No, I don’t need that. I had a chip placed last year.” You ran your tongue over your teeth, swallowing before speaking again. “But, um. I was wondering if…”

“Yes?”

“Commander Ren,” you said, searching his eyes for judgment, “is he… How is he?” Your bottom lip would need to heal from chewing it so much.

Another warm, small smile lifted on Belkar’s face. “It’s admirable, your passion for his care. Even in your current state. Even with those wounds you only care about his wellbeing.” Fire bit at your face, your eyes falling back to the bed. “It’s the mark of a true healer. Setting aside your own pain to lessen someone else’s. Your patient’s.”

“Yeah, well,” you raised your eyebrows, “do you know how he’s doing?”

“Before I came in to examine you, I was actually on my way to see Commander Ren. Would you like to come with me?”

“I should probably…” You trailed off, finally feeling relief when thinking about seeing Kylo and avoiding Mason. “Do you think I can walk? How did the nurse say I was healing?”

Belkar scooted out from the chair and stood, offering you a hand for support. “I actually would prefer you start walking now to discourage clotting. It’s likely you can leave here tonight once its officially been twenty-four hours since your admission.”

He made sure to fix your gown so you weren’t exposed while standing before you could tie the lower fastener. He kept a hand lightly placed over your mid-back, the other now holding your hand. “How long has it been since I got here?”

He started you on a slow pace and you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Robbie may have been the one to die, but death took residence in you; a bruise splotched out over your forehead, your hair flat and knotted, exhaustion shadowing your eyes. There were multiple bruises lining your arms, their origin a mystery, though you could only suspect a majority had come from the crowd of people you’d stormed through the stairwells with. The one injury you’d grown to cherish was masked by the ill-fitting white and grey patterned gown, the article most definitely shielding an additional multitude you were still unaware of.

“The Command Shuttle arrived soon after Starkiller exploded. Ren was transferred to medbay in less than a minute and began treatment within the next five upon arrival. You fainted before then.” He led you into the hall and began walking through the maze of bustling hallways. “You’ve been resting for nearly sixteen hours.”

“Sixteen. Stars.” The pain in your leg lessened the more you walked, seeing the faces of coworkers who last saw you that fateful night.

“We monitored your intracranial pressure for the first few hours, but it seems you were only severely exhausted and mildly dehydrated. Understandably, of course.” He took a familiar left turn and the entrance to the Elite medbay came into view. “I had entered orders to start you on oral antibiotic therapy as soon as you woke up, completely a prophylactic measure, but it won’t affect anything to hold off for now.”

Belkar swiped his badge across the scanner and the doors hissed open, your heart now thumping in your chest. The last time you’d seen Kylo, you’d assumed would be the last time. Even as you kept forward, nerves twisting your intestines, you couldn’t deny the need you felt to see him again. It scared you, though, imagining how he’d react to your presence.

“Um, maybe this is a bad idea. I don’t think Commander Ren needs any more visitors than necessary.” You stopped Belkar just before he swiped to open the door to your Master’s exclusive medbay.

“It’s a good thing neither of us are visitors.” The door shot open. “We’re his providers.” Belkar stepped past the threshold. “He wouldn’t mind either way,” you followed in after him, hesitant while you stared down at the floor, “I placed him in a therapeutic coma to keep him from disturbing the stitching in his wounds.”

This news brought your eyes up as you entered the room and felt the door shut behind you. Kylo Ren, outfitted in the same gown as you, was supine on the bed, unconscious. Peaceful. His gown was left unsnapped at the shoulders, a blanket resting above his hips and tucked under his wrists. The assessment table had been replaced, an IV pole set up on his left side, a monitor reading off the contents and status of the three current running fluids: metronidazole, normal saline, and a third – separate – line running a bag of packed red blood cells. Kylo was breathing on his own, though there was an intubation kit ready on the bedside table, you noticed while routinely scanning the room for necessary emergency intervention equipment.

Belkar rid the distance between him and Ren, your own feet stopping just before the door. The physician looked at you with a creased brow but quickly dissolved his expression as he accepted your decision. After setting his datapad down he gently peeled back Kylo’s gown, resting it over the blanket and then gesturing towards him with his hands.

“The coma was a last resort,” he began. “Commander Ren was exhibiting signs of delirium when my team began his care. After nearly two hours of noncompliance I wrote a STAT order to initiate it.” Belkar sighed, this fact disappointing to him.

“When you say delirium…” Your hands strangled in and out of fists, nervous fingers smoothing over the fabric of your gown while you looked on at your sleeping patient.

The physician’s mouth had settled into somewhat of a pout, considering your question. “Ren’s health history was scattered and scant in the archives, virtually nothing resembling a family history. It was most likely the physical trauma that caused it, but…” Belkar turned his body to you while keeping his eyes on Kylo. “Whenever any of the nurses or techs would attempt to orient him during those first two hours he kept telling us he’s dead.”

A single step took you further from the door. “Was.. Did he ever say who he was talking about? A name?” This information confounded you, leaving you to wonder whose death could possibly matter so much to Kylo Ren that he’d recount while his mental defenses were weakened?

A deeper, more frustrated sigh left Belkar. “There’s been so little time and the staff is already so overworked with all the new admissions.” He uncovered one of Kylo’s legs and checked the placement and setting of the compression device wrapped around it. “I appointed a droid to sift through the archives to find anything, to see if there was any information on a Ben.”

“Ben?”

“That’s who we assume is dead, as he kept repeating.”

“You assume? What does that mean?” Another step and your eyes shot to the vitals monitor, seeing his heart rate was in the low fifties. Bradycardic, hence the fluids.

“The two phrases came sporadically. At times he would say the name, and whenever any of the care team would ask him who Ben was…”

“They’d suddenly be at a loss for words?”

Belkar’s mouth quirked for half a second, falling quickly when he shifted the blanket back to its original place. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.” He looked at you again, contemplating, narrowing his eyes. “I imagine you’ve endured such acts. I only assume given—” he gestured to your leg.

Heat flared in your cheeks and your pulse picked up. Swallowing, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and crossed your arms. “Yes.” He didn’t seem to know why Kylo Ren had left his mark, only that he had. This brought you ease. “Yes, Commander Ren doesn’t have the best handle on his…anger. I suppose.”

Belkar swallowed, watching you. “Does he scare you?”

This caught you off guard, fingers biting into your arms when you took another step forward. “Does Kylo Ren scare me?” You took a few seconds to really think about it, feeling comfortable when you met Belkar’s eyes again, only a few paces from the bed now. “It would be counterintuitive to be afraid of my own patient.”

“Do you feel safe when you are working with him?” He was subtly attempting to screen you for abuse – well, further abuse – his face trying to hide the curiosity in his tone.

“Doctor Belkar, I do appreciate you’re worried for me. But it is misplaced. Now, would you tell me more about my patient, please?”

He was momentarily taken aback by your forward effort to change the subject. “I do apologize if my questions have made you uncomfortable. I noticed your hesitancy to be near him and thought-,”

“That’s unrelated, Doctor,” maybe in too harsh a manner, you bit his words off. You didn’t feel like telling the edited version of how you believed yourself to be the abuser when it came to Kylo, and you were sure Belkar, just as Mason, wouldn’t understand if you tried. “Will you please just tell me how he’s been doing?” A crack in your voice revealed how weak your defenses were.

The physician’s head nodded back slightly in understanding. Today was good for no one. Tensions were high. He knew you had just woken up after experiencing both known and unknown traumas. “Would you help me change his dressings while we discuss his care?” A truce, gentle and acknowledging.

Your shoulders fell with a breath you hadn’t realized was waiting to escape, your throat clearing when you walked to the drawers set up behind you. Activating one, you pulled out the necessary supplies and set them up as Belkar opened them. He walked you through the various monitors connected to Kylo – leeds stuck to his chest, a cuff around his upper right arm, the pumps over his legs, the IVs placed. He uncovered Ren’s pelvis and had you assess his catheter, mentioning the drainage bag below the bed. The antibiotics were prophylactic, just as yours would be; there had been too many unknowns around Ren’s injuries to not protect against potential sepsis.

When Belkar had completed his assessment – stopping to listen to breath and bowel sounds, motioning for you to do the same with the provided stethoscope to test your knowledge – you helped him fix the gown and sheets back over Kylo’s chest, your breath catching when your fingers brushed against his skin. The doctor tucked his datapad back under his arm and walked to the door, activating it before stepping out. However, you had remained at Kylo’s side, watching him as he slept.

“Doctor Belkar?” you called after him, not looking away from Kylo.

A sigh left him, this one fond. Kind. “A true healer.” He was thoughtful in tone. “Use the assistance indicator should you become faint. Should your friend inquire about your whereabouts-,”

“Tell him I’m okay—” you licked your lips as a tear slipped down your cheek “—tell Mason he can leave if he… Tell Mason he can leave.”

There was no response before the door hissed shut, allowing you to let free the whimper which had been stuck since you first set eyes on Kylo. You realized you’d never seen him asleep. The one night you’d shared his bed your focus just on that fact, not on observing him. That night had been the only time you’d seen his full heart, or at least more of it than you had. Now, standing beside him, still reluctant to get too close, you were crying just as he had. That night seemed like a separate lifetime, like a dream you’d only ever get to revisit in your memories now.

Tearing your eyes away from him, clearing your throat and thumbing away more tears, you ran your fingertips along the hanging fluids; the saline would need to be replaced soon, and the metronidazole was running at an accelerated rate. The blood, you checked the label, had been hung just prior to your arrival, the colloid causing you to stop and gently press into its plastic confines. A huff of weak amusement left you; it had never occurred to you that this blood would ever be used for its intended purpose, intended recipient. Seeing it running into Kylo’s veins, checking the transfusion sight for infiltration and redness, you felt a sort of sick irony settle into the room. This very fluid, more or less, would be your demise; it was capable of sustaining life, replenishing it, yet would be the very thing to end yours.

The monitor blinked in your periphery, catching your attention; his heart rate was improving, finally skimming the upper fifties, his respirations coming evenly. Steeling yourself, bunching your gown in your hands, you looked down at him. Kylo Ren, resting and vulnerable, lay below for your appraisal. Belkar had walked you through the proper routine to change his dressings, his abdominal wound and the one scraping across his shoulder healing well under the soaked gauze. The wound fixed along his face, however, had been created too awkwardly to be dressed as the others. A grafting patch had been placed along the length of the injury, a black stripe of the regenerative material precise in its placement.

There was so much pain etched into him, you wondered if his outward appearance now matched his inner, the thought choking you with a sob. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. It was silly to wait for a response, to look at him in anticipation, but you did.

It took several minutes of deliberation, but you eventually joined him in the bed, gently sitting on his right side as to not disturb anything. The tips of your right index and middle finger trailed along the ridges of the unbandaged wound, feeling his pulse in the raised flesh, landing on his forehead and brushing into his hair.

“Oh.” It startled you when your fingers got stuck in a mat at his ends. Rolling it between your fingers you found it to be dried, congealed blood. It wasn’t surprising; hair care was not the priority right now, the nurses already straining themselves without paying attention to trivial duties.

But you had time and he was here with no way of objecting, your hand cupping his face before you began gathering your supplies and setting them up. The silence was comforting for only a few minutes, soon leaving you to your thoughts, those which shuddered through you with images of Robbie and Snoke and Kylo.

“I don’t even know how we got here,” you mumbled while filling a basin with warm water. A bitter chuckle, a cough chasing it. “I do, actually. I know exactly how we got here.” Placing the full basin on the bedside table, carefully wheeling it to the head of his bed, you gazed over him. “Snoke. Mason. Rob-,” the name stuck in your throat. “The stormtrooper.”

Gentle thumbs tracked like feathers atop his cheekbones, your remaining fingers pushing into his thick locks and brushing it behind his ears. After admiring him for a moment longer you collected the necessary linen, grabbing three extra towels, four in total. Setting them up – one beneath him, another two rolled and resting atop his shoulders, and the last spread over your lap when you sat on a stool – you reached for the cup you’d earlier grabbed and filled it with water.

“I should’ve told you.” It seemed you would never stop crying; a tear struck his forehead as you poured the first cup over his head, ensuring to guard his eyes and ears. “I never… Snoke threatened Mason. He threatened him and all I could think was that I wouldn’t allow someone else to endure punishment meant for me.” Kylo’s hair darkened as it wet, the towel beneath him turning pink with diluted blood. “That wouldn’t be fair. Someone suffering because my own mistakes? No. No, that would be selfish. Selfish and, and… I don’t know.” A sigh and a swallow. “I don’t know.”

With a second cup you wet the rest of his locks and lathered shampoo between your hands. “I woke up yesterday hating you, wishing I was dead so I didn’t have to see you after that day. I fucking hate him so much!” Your chin trembled in anger, imagining Snoke knowing this was happening, wondering how much he really knew, if he could see while Kylo slept. “And it wasn’t even… That’s what I hate the most. You had so little say in it, so little choice and I spent a whole month, wasted so much time, hating the wrong person. Hating you.”

Rolling his ends between your fingers, you scrubbed at the mats until they became loose. “I wish you could know that everything I told you was a lie. You were right about it all. I don’t hate you.” Words came easier, tears still streaming with ease, yet your throat clearing with each admission. “Maybe in the beginning when I didn’t know so much, when I didn’t know you. Maybe then I had wanted to, but it’s an impossibility now. Today made me realize that.” A pause while you watched his chest tide, stopping to recount the apology you’d known to give him, remembering how it felt as he held you – broken, raw – in his arms. “Today made me realize a lot of things.”

The last mat had been the toughest, your fingers rolling and rubbing for nearly five minutes until it softened. “Can I… I mean, I know you can’t answer, but…” Your throat got thick again, burning as you tried to swallow a sob. Closing your eyes, you dropped the subject, not wanting to recount the event to even an absent mind yet.

Clearing your throat, you began again, instead recalling the various mentions of Kylo Ren’s history during the past day. “Maybe I don’t know as much about you as others do, though.” Water drenched the towel below his head as you massaged the soap out of his hair, your pulse quickening as you thought about your next question. “The old man. The one on Jakku… He mentioned something about a time before Kylo Ren, or something like that. How did he even know you? How did you know him?”

Working your way through his hair, you rinsed until there were no bubbles remaining. Questioning him felt foreign; if he were awake he would have surely stopped you from continuing. Or from starting at all. But you pressed on, wanting to distract yourself from the reality that lurked in the back of your mind.

“And then later, when I…” Warmth spread through you at the memory of his bed, him setting you there, holding onto him until he left. You tried to hide the pain in your throat, knowing if you allowed yourself to sob once you’d surely lose the ability to stop. “I heard you. When you were speaking to someone, talking to your grandfather. Was he in there with you? Or were you on a commlink?” You shrugged, knowing all of these inquiries were in vain. “My maternal grandfather passed away before I began university. I never met the other one. Something about family secrets and drama and blah blah blah.”

Another tear fell to Kylo’s face, remembering the pain you’d felt losing someone for the first time, remembering how helpless you were to change anything. A sigh of desperate defeat left you. “I must be cursed. A true healer? Maybe in another life. In this one it seems I can only save a life in turn for another, be it mine or someone I care about.”

After rinsing your hands in the basin, you gathered conditioner on the tips of your fingers and began working it into the now clean ends. A whimper came in place of the stuck sob, breathing becoming difficult as you denied it life. “You said that to me, remember? The night I had gone to Mason. Not exactly but, you said something along the lines of me only listening when the things I value are threatened. It seems the two things go hand in hand; I can’t help anyone without hurting someone else, I can’t make a decision without being forced into it, without being threatened should I make one wrong choice.”

A hand smoothed over the last remaining tendril of hair, soft with the new product, your chest heavy with regret and hindsight. “You wanted me to give my whole self to the First Order. I did, Kylo. And now… I have nothing. There’s nothing left and it’s my fault.” Mason’s worried expression flitted into your mind’s eye. “And if I do have anything left… It’s nothing I want.” Closing your eyes, you ran the pad of your thumb along the rim of the cup, clutching it to your chest. “I wish I could go back. Earlier when I… When I came home. I wish I had told you then. If I had, maybe neither of us would be pawns in Snoke’s game. If I’d told you, maybe I wouldn’t have been-,”

Pain speared you with daggers of rejection. There was no easy or gentle way to confront the truth. No matter if you’d briefly mentioned it with Belkar earlier; to verbalize it, to say out loud what had gone one, scared you. It made it real, gave it power and life. But this would be the only way you’d get to confess to it; soon you’d be alone, left to relive the act over and over until it would be all that remained. It would consume you if you let it.

“I was raped.” You said it before it got stuck again. Finally, after choking on it for so long, that sob broke free, cries grating against your sore throat. “It was the stormtrooper. The one you’d set out to protect me from. The one Snoke had told me you’d been thinking about.” A shaky hand collected another cup of water and let it rinse the conditioner away. “RB-6745. Robbie. Shit! I’m so, so stupid! I’m so dumb I wish I could fucking die! It would be so much easier if I could just stop…existing, if I could just stop breathing it would all be- none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t- damn it!” A roar tore through clenched teeth before you dragged the towel set across your lap and smothered it against your face.

Scream after scream after scream left you, each one more painful than the last, more broken than the last. The towel collected what tears had set on your cheeks, your voice diminishing before you had the sense to stop yourself from continuing. With the damp cloth draped over your hands, you rested your head in your palms, heaves and hiccups unbidden and unrelenting.

“I gave him a name, Kylo. I did. I gave him a name and I started all of this,” muffled, you finally confronted the truth you had been so unwilling to acknowledge. A bitter crack of laughter left. “You will only ever be the start and end of the issue,” you echoed Snoke, voice distant and decimated. “Yeah, well. I guess he was right. I did start it.” Pulling the towel from your face, staring down at the peace painted over your Master, a cold shiver stalled your lungs. “I started it. And I ended it.”

Silence once more met you with suffocation. Studying Kylo’s face – noticing his eyelashes, the cracked nature of his dry lips, finding a fondness in the angle of his nose – you took a deep breath and settled into your new reality, accepting it as it would be, allowing yourself to begin healing as he was before you. “I killed him. I left him to bleed out just before Starkiller exploded. He’s dead.”

The last phrase reminded you as you finished your task, patting the towel into his hair, lifting his head to fully dry him. “Whoever Ben is… and if he’s dead or not –” you rested the towel over your left thigh “—I wonder if I knew him.” Another thought of Kylo’s figurative family. “I wonder if he knew you.”

Once you left here your privileges as his provider would be revoked; when he would wake and sign the proper documents, notify the necessary people, every tie you had to him would be severed. So, to indulge in one last moment, you parted a triangle of hair from the center of his hairline, separated it into three equal sections, and began the simple pattern: left over middle, right over middle, adding hair with each repetition to create a continuous, tight braid. Aside from giving you more time with him, the style would discourage any new mats from forming.

Repeating this process two more times, one more on each side of his head, you made sure that the hair that couldn’t be contained was brushed and flat beneath him. You set a towel under his head to collect any remaining moisture and prevent knotting. The clean-up process was leisurely, your focus shifting to his monitor every now and then to see he was no longer bradycardic. The last time you checked the monitor, a normal sinus rhythm tracing along the display, you found his pulse had risen to sixty-seven beats per minute.

Finished clearing the last of your mess, you sat on the stool, still at the head of his bed. No matter the new addition setting into features – though, in a way, it suited him well – you admired him; here he was at peace. Resting. Healing. The sobs had died out but tears were still liberal in their formation, another falling to hit the inner corner of his right eye. You collected it, chewing your lip before leaning down and again tracing along the outer region of the wound.

Kylo’s breath warmed over your forehead in the proximity, your own catching as it all became too much. Placing your hands on either side of his face so the tips of your fingers held loosely over his jaw, you brought your lips to rest on his. Kylo couldn’t reciprocate it, you knew, but this would be your goodbye.

“I wish I could have given you more than this,” you whispered, lips brushing against his own. “More than anything, Kylo, I wanted to give you more than this.”

Trembling lips pressed into his, your tears reviving the dry flesh, a whimper leaving when he remained still. He would never kiss you back again, the thought piercing as warmth slipped from your cheeks and onto his. However long you stayed like this, your face on his, you tried to silence the reality looming over you. But you couldn’t stay here forever, and you’d probably been gone for far too long already.

Leaning up from him your nose drew a faint line up his bridge, feather-light lips setting against his forehead in a final show of unrequited adoration. With a breath your spine straightened, eyes strict in their effort to keep forward. There was no moment of hesitancy as you passed the threshold and left the Elite wing; if you had indulged in a final glance, you knew you’d have never left.

On the journey back to your room – head hung low, teeth rooted in an effort to stop the trembling of your bottom lip – you met a stiff wall of muscle as someone exited a room, your feet stumbling back before you completely fell backwards, landing on your tailbone. The room spun when you opened your eyes after hitting the floor, a gloved hand extending down and offering you assistance. Taking it, you looked up to find General Hux.

He looked as you did, exhaustion heavy in his features before he was struck by your identity. He didn’t recoil, though, pulling you up and even steadying you for a couple seconds. Hux’s eyes darted to the bandage on your forehead and quickly over your gown, narrowing only slightly when he appraised the red rims of your own. He remained silent, retracting his hand as he nodded once.

“Officer,” he acknowledged. “I heard about your fainting spell.” His tone lacked the animosity you had come to expect.

You took hold of the wall support, looking up at him, confused at his sudden civility. “Oh.” It was the best you could do right now.

Something about him seemed off. Even as he remained more guarded than most humans you knew, it appeared as though something had him worried. Maybe it was the fall out from Starkiller that had him acting out. He had just lost men.

“Is there an official count yet?” you asked, filling the silence.

Hux swallowed, the corners of his mouth dipping before he returned to his normal façade, his shoulder going up and back when his stance shifted. “Nice work during the transport.”

“Thank…you. Uh, thank you, General.”

Another nod and he turned away from you and walked out of sight. A crease bit at your brow. How strange. Or maybe it wasn’t. The last twenty-four hours had been less than favorable for the entire First Order. Nobody could be expected to be at their best right now. Or even at their normal.

Before you started down the hall, your periphery caught view of the room where Hux had come, your heart falling. Confusion was drowned by new concern. Talia was slumped into her shoulder, asleep while she sat upright, both arms resting at her sides to reveal bruises from multiple IV attempts. There was one line running from her left forearm which led up to a bag of fluids, the contents of which you couldn’t read from a distance.

Peaking around the hall, you ducked into her room and clicked the door shut with your back, keeping the volume to a minimum as to not wake her. It seemed like a week had passed since you saw her seize, Snoke’s men abducting you before you could aid in her care. It had been less than a full day.

Walking up to her right side you noted the oxygen secured over her ears, a nasal cannula delivering two liters per minute. Nothing excessive. That was good. But still curious. The fluid bag was filled with electrolyte replacement, another bag hanging empty behind it. Looking for more clues, you found the information board to be devoid of any recent updates, only indicating her nurse and the continuation of the current fluids. There was a check mark next to a note which read sterile urine specimen, CBC, CMP.

When you kicked your foot under her bed, swinging it mindlessly while holding onto the upper bed rail, something skidded beneath your sock. In a manner which didn’t stress your wounds, you knelt to the ground and picked up the item. It was a white square, shiny material which glinted under the harsh fluorescents. Holding one corner, it unfolded to reveal a second half. Turning it over, eyes blinking back to make sure you were reading the images correctly.

Everything was in the right spot, every label and measurement and identifier correct and official. Dropping completely to the floor, your legs splayed across each other, you peaked up at your friend and back to the printed picture multiple times, not knowing what to make of the situation.

Talia was pregnant.

Miss Missing You (Life Update)

Ahem yes that’s the title of this post

Boy am I tired and exhausted being awake since 5 am on 5 hours of sleep

Hello~🥰 all my lovelies who are still awake and chugging along out in this world that’s slowly descending into the depths of hell (it’s ok guys, just a little more than 3 months and it’ll be over...hopefully).  I hope you’ve all been well, taking care of yourselves, drinking lots of water, and reminding yourself how amazing and wonderful you are and why you deserve to wake up every morning.  And if you started school again, stay safe and good luck, I know you can do it, push through this

Before I say anything, I wanna say hi and welcome to the - holy crap - 300 more followers I’ve gotten since I started being inactive.  I have no idea how you found this blog since it’s been radio silence, but thank you~ Enjoy your stay~

Also just a casual shout out to @mister-future for the reblog spam a few days ago, thank you so much dear 😘

Aaaaand I’m plugging a few events from my Discord server, POC Week that just wrapped up and a new Fantasy Week event where they’re still looking for a few writers to join in, so go check those out if you’re interested~ Sadly I won’t be participating, but I give all my love and support for both so please show them some love too.

Now you’re probably wondering or not “Chibi, where have you been?!  It’s been nearly a month!  You promised us Kiss of Death part 2!”

Well...see... the thing is... I don’t think I’ll be writing part 2... Hold the rotten tomatoes, let me finish!

Some of you might’ve seen from one of the last tag posts I did, but I never really made a formal announcement for this and I was meaning to do one early a month ago but life caught up to me and here we are.  It’s not that big of a deal or anything, I’m not dying, I’m not moving, nothing like that.  What I’m trying to say is in August I started PA school, which is basically about 70% of med school crammed into 2 years.  Nonstop, no long breaks, even taking classes during summer.  And as you can imagine, it’s a lot of work.  Many times, my schedule has me up at 5 am, class at 7 until 3, I come home, study, eat, study, shower, wind down for 30 min or so and then sleep.  On average, I sleep for ~6 hours a night and the entire rest of my day I’m studying.  My only break days are Friday and Saturday, and Sunday I have to play catch up from the week and review/study.  I have at least 1-2 exams every single week.

What I’m trying to say is it’s a lot, it’s a commitment I decided to take where I trade my social life and maybe my mental stability for 2 years and get a hopefully secure medical job with a nice salary and never have to go to school again.  I thought I’d have time at least on the weekends to write as a mental break, but most of my Saturdays are spent taking half-day long naps.  I didn’t anticipate that the mental and physical toll it would take on me would be this much.  Today I was lucky to have class finish early and I finished my allotted studying early enough for me to make up for my lost sleep (I’m tired right now, can’t you tell how by how much I’m rambling? lol), but I told myself, “If you don’t write this now, you’re never gonna get to it again.”  So here I am~ Running on fumes and almost falling asleep at my keyboard because I know I owe you an explanation.

Point is, writing isn’t really in my agenda right now.  It can’t fit in my irregular, constantly-changing-yet-consistently-stressful PA school schedule.  I wish I had the energy to pull myself together and give you guys something once a week, but my body and my mind can’t do it, and for that I’m truly sorry.  I really miss this blog and writing and all of you, but I have priorities that go above it for now.

Am I saying you won’t be seeing anything of me until December?  It’s a very likely possibility.  I’m crossing my fingers that I can put out something, even a little thing sometime in between, but for now I think it’s safe to say I’m out of commission until December.  I really hope you guys understand 🙏🏼

I love you all so much, thank you for sticking with me through the long update/announcement.  Please stay safe and healthy, remember that you’re loved and you deserve the whole world, and there is no one else who can replace you 💖

~Chibi

Keep Yourself Alive

pt. 27 // pt. 28⚛ // pt. 29

NCT Frat Social Media AU // College Athlete & Fratboy Lucas x reader

Word count: 1872ish

Warning: a little angsty, mentions of chronic pain, insecurities, kinda cringey, also text pictures meshed in with writing just a heads up

It’s not that you weren’t interested in all the hell week practices that coach planned for the swim team, in fact you were fascinated by the sets your old coach was giving out.  In fact you didn’t want to be in this dark room away from everyone else out in the living room drinking, playing games, and eating all the food Johnny has painstakingly prepared. You wanted to be out there getting drunk on two cups of eggnog like Hyunjin, the friend you just barely met before leaving the swim team. But for the first time since deciding to fly across the world for college with your best friend you had to dip out of your Christmas tradition. Sure it wasn't intentional but that didn't stop the tearing feeling in the pit of your chest from blooming. You may have felt horrible physically but the mental strain of not being able to be out there performing your best attempt at normal for something that was so important was that much worse. 

Were those tears wetting your cheeks? No. Those were allergies, you couldn’t be crying. Who knew pollen was so bad in the winter?

The seconds had turned into minutes and 15 minutes later you were still laying on Johnny’s bed in the dark, feeling like someone sucker punched your heart, and other parts, curled into his sheets with only the harsh light emitting from your phone screen. You had taken one of the pain meds the doctor gave you but it had yet to kick in. You should've taken it sooner, if anyone knew your body it was you and you knew you should've take it earlier, then you could stand out there and attempt normal alongside your friends. But somewhere deep down you were hoping that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t need some painkiller to go about mingling. Yu were wrong and now you were reaping the consequences of that decision. 

But above all else, you were worried that Lucas would show up at the party while you were holed away in the fetal position in your best friend’s bed. Stupid, right? Here you were, organs cementing themselves together, and yet all you could think about was some boy you had only known for a few months. But if he showed up you knew somehow you were going to have to explain yourself, something you had been dreading since night one.

Lucas had already texted you to tell you he was running a little bit late so you had a bit of time to figure something out or get out but that was nearly 30 minutes ago; he could only be so far behind. Any minute he was bound to be walking through Johnny and Mark's front door with one of his dopey grins, scanning the room for the person who invited him and coming up empty handed.

Wow you were the worst host of all time. At least Chan and Hyunjin had each other but Lucas was on his own. Here without a host. Sure he could visit with Jaehyun or Ten but they had obviously come without him for some reason considering they all lived together.

God hold it together! If you could take exams with your survival brain activated then you could handle one boy. Too much anxiety and your brain was jumping from conclusion to conclusion, problem to problem. Organs cementing together: check. Composure melting: check.

Three sharp knocks jolted you out of your downward spiral, followed by a soft voice, “Y/n can I come in?” The soft voice that had been at the root of your anxiety. 

Wow, who knew blood pressure could skyrocket that high? 

“Y/n?” The question was followed by a quick ping from your phone. Quietly, wiping the few stray tears off your cheek, you looked back to the harsh screen. 

It only took a few moments for the door to slowly creak open, the glow from all the Christmas lights in the living room casting a soft light across Johnny's bed. In that time you managed to suck in a few deep breaths and zip up your pants, wearing jeans with this bloat was not a good idea.

He was quiet, sinking into the other half of the bed while you laying on the other side facing away. Too quiet. The silence was making you nervous.

Then there was another ping at your phone. Sending a vibration through your hand: what was he doing?

You let out a bleat of laughter, what was he doing?

There was another moment of uncomfortable silence, you smiling into your phone screen as he tried to find more ways to make you laugh again, before he finally asked, out loud this time: "Is it your thingy?" His voice wasn't too far from yours and you could tell he was still sitting from the dip in the mattress.

"My thingy?"

"You know that thing you had surgery for? Does it hurt?"

You flipped over to look at him, even though you could barely see him with the dim lighting, the only glow coming from the cracks under the door and between the curtains. "You mean my appendix? Did you already forget everything I taught you?" You laughed with a soft smile that you hoped he could hear in your tone. 

In the darkness, his eyes search the room for yours landing only on your blurry dark outline. "Yeah your aerobics."

"Appendix." You corrected, another smile cracking through your self-wallowing.

There were two ways this could go over. You could lie, say it is the appendix that in all honesty hadn't hurt much since you got it out, the doctor said something about a high pain tolerance, or you could tell the truth and face the thing you have been dreading most since spending more time with him. He deserved the truth.

"Um not quite," your tone was hesitant and slow, though it wasn't him bolting you were afraid of it, it was you. "I uh, I am in pain right now. Actually, um, I’m in pain a lot of the time." You felt a hot tear slip down your cheek, dammit not again. "And it's uh, it's why I ran away from you on Halloween and, um, it's why I have to cancel a lot of our plans."

He was quiet across from you but you could feel his hand searching across the blankets for something, maybe yours?

"I'm so sorry. You came for a Christmas party and I'm crying to you in my best friend's bed." Wow what a catch. "If you wanna leave it's ok, I understand."

"Nah, I think I'll just chill in here with you," he laid down next to you, finally finding your hand and fitting it into his. "And anyway Mark is out there yelling about a journalist turned babysitter turned tutor turned princess teaching a prince about quote true christmas spirit, so I'd rather be in here." 

"That's an iconic Christmas movie, watch your words Yukhei." You chastised playfully, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand. The warmth from his hand was eating away at some of the anxiety, though you were still trembling.

"Ah yeah, did I say boring, I meant super interesting and exciting," he grinned, replacing your hand with his own to wipe your tears. What the hell? "Watching anything with you is exciting." When did he get this smooth?

"Yeah whatever. I know for a fact you fell asleep in Mathilda too." As cheesy as he was, this tall star basketball player was making your heart race so fast it felt like it was about to escape from your chest.

"Hey I came from practice, it's not my fault coach took all our energy!" 

You swatted playfully at him as the conversation lulled, because despite the laughter and his hand, all those negative thoughts were still swirling around in the back of your head eager to rear their face. Muttering, almost too soft for him to hear you choked out, "I'm sorry I can't be what you want."

"What? Who told you that?" He rolled over to face you, even though he couldn't see you all that clearly. "I've been trying to tell you for weeks now that I like you. If only you didn't change the subject right away. Y/n I like you. I like you a lot. Honestly I liked you that first night at Halloween when you were rambling about the night sky and all your dreams. I didn't expect to actually talk to someone at that party but then there you were on the couch, critiquing Doyoung’s music but also dancing to it and enjoying yourself?"

A blush spread through your cheeks and down your neck, leaving fire in its path. "Oh God, I was really high on halloween and a little drunk. I hope I wasn't too harsh on the critiques, though I should’ve known it was Doyoung. The music was pretty run of the mill. I mean Ariana Grande remixes? Seriously, what kind of party is that?" They're was a long pause that you felt the need to cover up with a quick justification "that wasn't a rhetorical--" 

"--can I kiss you?"

He was facing you, you could tell by his soft breath and how he seemed to fold into you. "Why?" Good god if your friends could hear you right now evading again, they would smack you.

"Because I like you!" When you tried to protest, he just tutted and repeated, "I like you, even if you are in pain."

Oh that's why you were so nervous, hearing that. Also you could feel the soft outline of his lips lightly brushing yours, combine that with the fact that the tether to your pain seemed to be loosening up as the painkillers kicked in. You would never feel perfect but this did give you enough of a confidence boost to close the gap, kissing him like your very life depended on it. This boy, those lips, these feelings; they would be the death of you. 

Pulling away to catch your breath, unable to form the words you wanted too, you knew you weren't done explaining yourself. There was more to your pain, more to apologize for how you let your fear dictate your time with him. "I need to tell you first, when I say I'm in pain I don't mean like some achy broad pain. I ran away on Halloween because a lot of the time sex hurts and my high was fading and I knew I couldn't stay. It was already a bad decision but I just wanted to feel like a regular kid and you were so nice, a little dopey with that fake blonde wig but still really hot. What I'm trying to say is: it's not just my head or my stomach,  it's those parts too. The parts that we started with. And those are important to people. And I like you, I like you so much but I'm not some normal girl. There are going to be days when I can't leave the bed or can't go out with you or be, um, intimate with you and there might be a lot of those days. I have some baggage that's a little more physical so if you wanna bolt I get it. You probably want someone who can do everything you want, so this is me showing you the door." You made a broad gesture to sweep to the door. These were your fears laying out for him to see if he looked close enough. Maybe you weren't enough for him or anyone for that matter. 

"Nah, I think I'll stay here. Maybe I can ask Johnny if he's got Mathilda around here so I can finally watch it all."

Keep Yourself Alive

pt. 27 // pt. 28⚛ // pt. 29

NCT Frat Social Media AU // College Athlete & Fratboy Lucas x reader

summary: College is hard enough, right? Coursework, two jobs, a social life, and the state of your mental health. As if that was enough now the school’s no.1 athlete won’t leave you alone after a one night stand. And maybe you like him back but you have a tendency to run when life gets too difficult especially now that undiagnosed chronic pain just seems to be getting worse with each passing month.

(I am not to happy with this chapter so I might come back and edit and revise. It just feels too gloom and doom for me. Let me know what you think. That’s for waiting for the update! And thanks for reading. There is only like one or two more actual chapters and then an epilogue.)

Taglist: @princeofshenzhenuwus @hannahdinse8 @wongassride ​ @cowward @sakura-uji