#sorry if its a bit inaccurate

[clownsfiles]

Lamb of God, or Sheep of God?

#my artwrok #illustration #art #artists on tumblr #fyodor dostoevsky #russian literature #classic literature #fanart #the brothers karamazov #alyosha karamazov #doodle #sketch #uhhhh #my version of alyosha ig #sorry if its a bit inaccurate

[rottingraisins]

I'm not gonna lie I'm shocked that all that Requiem/Divorceverse stuff was just an AU, I had completely internalized the idea that all this was on the wiki somewhere. Your commitment to an AU with one fanfiction to its name is commendable.

#i think thats a little inaccurate given there IS several other bits of fanwork theyre just not publicly available #but yeah divorceverseposting for several weeks with a target audience of like 15 other people in mind had the rlly funny side effect #of having several people start wondering where n how to read it #i do think the scp community is rlly the perfect place to be doing a goncharov bc the lore is so disorganized and confusing as is #that its easy to assume uve just not read smth LOL #but no yeah it wasnt even rlly supposed to be that we were mostly just ocposting. sorry #not art

[tintinology]

doesn't tintin always speak french because he visits colonies

Not necessarily. Of all the countries he visits, the only ones I can think of that would be French or Belgian colonies are Congo and Morocco (Bagghar, while fictional, is said to be located in this country). Shanghai had a French concession, though whether that's the one that Tintin visits (as opposed to the British concession for example) or not is unclear. And he does visit French-speaking countries in Europe (Switzerland and France) where he presumably is speaking French. But they're far from being the only ones he visits.

As for the other countries he goes to, some are English colonies (Egypt, India) or former colonies (US), so I don't think they'd necessarily speak French there. Not to mention that he also visits South America a couple of times and the characters from the countries he goes to are shown to speak Spanish (think of General Alcazar exclaiming "Caramba!" or Zorrino calling him "señor"). It's not a stretch to believe that there might be people who speak French there, but it certainly wouldn't be the norm. I doubt the Incas were speaking French, tbh.

For the fictional countries, it's harder to say. Khemed could have at some point been a French colony, but it's never specified, and both Syldavia and Borduria have their own (possibly Salvic?) language, though again, it's possible that they know some French (King Muskar might have spoken French, for example, it having been the language of European courts for centuries).

Anyways, aside from all that, both Tintin and Haddock canonically speak English; it's especially obvious in the French version of Tintin in Tibet, where Tintin actually switches to English to ask for directions and Haddock asks some kids if he can eat the peppers in English.

It does admittedly suggest that they do speak French most of the time and that switching to English is notable enough to be written out explicitly, though it's hard to say for sure. But Tintin definitely doesn't only visit francophone colonies, so if he's speaking French, it's not (solely) because of that. It's more likely just something that we're supposed to ignore as readers.

#I missed some countries there because I felt it might become a bit redundant #don't think french was spoken in the soviet union though #and he visits england and scotland i dont think he spoke french there #anyways yeah the language thing is probably glossed over in the comics for the sake of brevity #and to avoid questions about how tintin can possibly know so many languages at such a young age #but yeah its inaccurate to say he only visits french colonies they're actually a minority among the places he visits #anyways sorry for the long reply lol its just a topic i find interesting #answered #anon #tintin #the adventures of tintin

[simonstamenovic]

ok. cohlune updates bc im finally making progress on his route (or like. not his specifically but he shows up here). so hes the prime minister of caldealand but also seems to be taking care of the princess (muefell. i dont know WHERE her parents are rn). their dynamic is actually very silly to me, because cohlune seems to be responsible for her but she also is very silly and VERY prone to danger (girl that is addicted to running into danger for fun but shes literally fine) and cohlune has to do his best to kind of. keep her from that. the point i just hit in the game is that theyre trying to capture this dangerous creature (who used to be a safe one that muefell was friends with. its a long story) and cohlune is all prepared to go in there, until muefell hits him with the big wet eyes and is basically telling him that she wants to come w them (in much less words, i think you'd enjoy her speech patterns a lot as they're very short and choppy). and ofc cohlune tells her no because its CRAZY dangerous but she hits him w the big wet eyes and he gives in in like a minute because he cant handle being stared at like that. theyre very silly, i have a LOT of this route left so ill be periodically popping in to give more info if you want more :) but the more i see of him the more i think youd like him a lot :)

no thoughts no words but so real so real love it the brain is ruminating n will read again later its so so good

#THANKS UHM MAY RB W STUFF BC AM A BIT WEIRD BUT WE CHERISH THIS #maya uhm adolin in th brain uhm u see this it has uhm its got legs its like ciri n jaskier #O TWIST U KNO THEM HII lol sorry if thts sooo inaccurate we r bein insane rn love #ask.exe #feel we shld have a shorthand 4 ur url incase u makethe gaame popular in th next year BUT #volfoss #bloodletting #save #rly wanna rmemberrr this we r doin so weird #SO UHMM IDK BEAM INTO MIND #RMEMBER #also hi twist luvu

[orbdotexe]

IIIII dont see any reason not to, so. Timeline I've been using (mostly as a guideline and summaries) for TFE! yippee!! (this is mostly for. non-content box ppl bc yall already had access to this--)

[Black Garden] The Young Wolf begins to hear whispers around Darkness-infected areas after the Black Garden, confides in no one and brushes it off when Ghost asks. The effects begin fading away, pushed out of memory, before the Red War hits and it is amplified until they get their Light back.

[?] Osiris and Drifter meet about the Sundial, where Osiris tells him he should meet the Guardian. [Encounter intro] [Original lore: The Sundial]

[Forsaken] Petra sees The Young Wolf holding the gun after Sundance bursts, Cayde does not get a chance to tell her. He falls into a coma after throwing Petra out of the way of an attack from a Baron, and is presumed dead by Wolf. The Young Wolf is exiled, under the belief that they had attempted to murder Cayde. Before Petra and Wolf race to get to Uldren, Ghost receives and ignores a message from Ikora, asking for their side of the story. Later, Wolf gets to Uldren first, and kills the Prince.

[?] Drifter has an impromptu meeting with Shin, where, similarly to Osiris, he is told to meet with Wolf—For different reasons. [Do They Know?]

[?] Crow wakes up, after the Dreaming City’s curse had set in. [Bury Me Shallow, chp1]

[during/ pre-Season of The Drifter/Joker’s Wild] The Drifter seeks out the Young Wolf under Osiris's (and Shin’s) recommendation and sets up an exchange of favors. [Questionably Fortunate Encounter]

[Shadowkeep] 

[Beyond Light] The Exo Stranger takes up teaching the Young Wolf how to control Stasis, in an attempt to help them tame the hallucinations from the Black Garden. Elsie found out because she began keeping a closer eye on them after a vague warning from Drifter about keeping an eye on them.  Later, Wolf takes up hunting Eramis. 

[Pre-Defeat of Eramis, Post-Wolf getting Stasis] Cayde finally wakes from his coma.  Shiro acts as a bodyguard, making sure Cayde doesn’t do anything to get himself into trouble for a few weeks.

[Hunt] Starts after Wolf has already taken out the first of Eramis’ Lieutenants. Crow multitasks hunting the Wrathborn and prying for information on what happened to Wolf and why they killed Uldren from Spider back in the Shore. Wolf, unknown to him, stalks Crow to find out more about their replacement, between receiving more information on Eramis’ forces. Shiro assists Crow's Wrathborn hunts while attempting to track the Young Wolf after hearing word of sightings of them, unable to pin down their purpose for switching between Europa and the Shore.

[Chosen] Wolf crashes some Rites of Proving, proceeds as usual (?)

[Splicer] The Young Wolf, learning of Lakshmi's plan to invite the Vex inside the City with the intent of getting rid of House Light, sneaks into the City and publicly executes her - both to stop her before it's too late, and to take the heat off of the Eliksni's backs. [Bury Me Shallow, chp2]

[Lost] Now desperate for information on Wolf, and determined to find out what happened, Crow and Cayde attempt to consult Savathun in-between saving Mara's Techuens.

[post-reclaiming Uldren’s memories] Cayde and Crow, under Mara's request, try to find the Young Wolf. Cayde, unable to leave, is stuck playing intel. Crow, deep in abandoned ruins that were already difficult to get through, finds them and is warned against trusting the Vanguard not to turn on him. [One Mirror, Two Reflections, chp1: Warning A Replacement]

[Witch Queen] 

[Risen] 

[Haunted] Wolf’s Nightmare is the Speaker, who taunts them for letting the Vanguard take their chance at life and for being too weak to stop it. Crow is the only support they have through it (?), and without the connection through the Harvester. The Nightmare of Safiyah taunts Zavala with failing both Hakim and Wolf, pointing out he’s fucked over both of his children now.  Cayde’s Nightmare is Sundance, who taunts him about failing Andal, her, and Wolf.  Calus is not repelled (?), but the Witness still drags his consciousness from the Leviathan for Lightfall.

[?] A fireteam catches wind of the Young Wolf’s whereabouts potentially being on the Leviathan, and are assigned to check out the validity of the report. [Impromptu Arsenal Check]

[?] Cayde and Wolf see each other in person again for the first time since the prison. [A Lot of Firsts]

[Lightfall] (Crow and Wolf train together under Osiris in using Strand.)

[?] Crow, Saint, and Osiris wear down Zavala, trying to advise him to unexile Wolf, as the Coalition is spread too thin. Empress Caiatl, despite having heard much of the story from Saladin and Zavala’s points of view, makes the final nail in the coffin in a private meeting.  If she can see past Calus and his crimes and turn to protect her people; if Saint can see past the Fallen to protect the Eliksni and the City; if Zavala can see past Ghaul and trust her with his own— Then he can see past the Prison and take the risk. He talks Ikora into allowing him to unexile the Young Wolf.

[?] After some time, Crow finally convinces Wolf to take the opportunity to see the City again, and they are brought out of exile. [A Day In Town]

[Final Shape] Plight of The Honeybee.

#if theres a question mark to the *right* of a statement then its uncertain #technically ALL of this is uncertain bc. lore is mine to puppeteer and mutilate as i please #but anyway. #the question marks to the *left* of a statement are just. there to mark events between seasons/DLCs #the forsaken exile #oooh yeahhh. 'Do They Know?' is the current title for the Shin+Drifter short. if that wasnt obvious. and Plight is... well. its wolf's deat #yeah i think we all saw that coming #WELL. ig it depends on what i come up with. i still dont really have it planned. bc a lot of other things need planning #but rn they are very intended to. die. #F #some of this might actually be. a bit inaccurate. in which case im sorry #my notes are. ALL over the place. in these posts. in my doc. tucked away in discord somewhere random. who knows #so. grain of salt #AND Saviris isnt mentioned here either. ouughhhhghghg #ik its. ref for WHEN things happen not for WHAT happens but by the nine #and dont get me started on the bits with nothing beside them. im losing my mind #I do actually have a few things for Risen (mostly Crow. bc yeah. Crow.) #i jus... hhhhhhhnnnnngn #NOTHING PAST HAUNTED IS ON HERE AND IM. please kill me why am i doing this to myself

[steelycunt]

I also have nothing to add film taste wise HOWEVER I would love to know what remus and sirius think about the werewolves from twilight lmfao the whole franchise even

this is the part where i have to tell you i have never seen a single twilight film isn't it

#my friends made me sit through half of one of them but ill level with you i remember nothing from that night #HOWEVER im inclined to say any depiction of werewolves in media makes remus all pissy. he will always claim it is inaccurate even #if it isnt. he will sit there all 'i DONT do that. its NOTHING like that i dont look like that AT ALL' #im sorry anon :-/ what are they like in the twilight films i dont know...i have also never seen star wars i am bad for films xx #the werewolves in twilight look like they were a bit. er. dumb. is that a safe thing for me to say on here i dont know #everyone who HAS seen twilight please help me out xx what are your verdicts xx #telegram #anon

[caraphernellie]

cowboy like me // e.w. [chapter one]

summary: a modern day princess living under outdated royal protocol in which your own existence is forbidden. in a typical state visit to strengthen your country's relations with the united states, you find it harder than ever to keep your sexuality secret when you meet the president's daughter, ellie williams, and sparks fly.

wc: 2.1k masterlist

content warnings: fluff, angst, eventual smut. homophobia, governments, monarchy, politics. reader is specified as lesbian with she/her pronouns used for plot purposes i sorry, smoking, making out, femme! reader. u-haul lesbians fr. reader plays piano. ellie is a disaster lesbian lmaooooo. she's also super privileged and a bit of an ass. mostly based off of the british royal family in terms of royal protocol and all that shit, don’t kill me if things are inaccurate i’m not american, this chapter is more an intro to ellie's character and establishing tension

authors note: i'm so excited about this fic... but i might hate it in the morning so we'll see!! i've never read/watched red white and royal blue but it did inspire this fic (do not expect it to be anything like rwrb as i said i don't know what happens in it lmao). ellie's the president's daughter obvs. if your country doesn't have a monarchy just pretend there is one. if you're from the us then L 💀 play pretend

converse sneakers pelting across marble tiled floors with an onslaught of urgency, ellie makes her way through the halls. she stops at a mirror for a second, a muse in her mind– eh, good enough.

smoothing down flyaway hairs, ellie realises spending free time in the courtyard outside may not have been the best idea on a cool spring day such as this. the winter is still lingering, breezes battering the flag of red, white, and blue on the roof of the building as warm temperatures are still fresh. still- she needs as much a distraction as anyone else. as if procrastinating on something like homework, assignments, except the only thing ellie has done is make herself late to the introductory banquet of the royal family. all she knows is the president won’t be happy with her. 

bringing her wrist to her nose, ellie sniffs, though it’s less sniffing and more inhaling, trying to figure out if she has masked the smell of the cigarette she wasted or if she needs more cologne.

ellie’s caught by a housekeeper with her face stuck awkwardly into her suit jacket, furrowed brows as she inspects her own scent. pausing, a strained smile takes its place on chapped lips.

“he–”

“goodness, miss williams, you’re terribly late,” the housekeeper says, quickly approaching. “staff have been searching everywhere for you.”

“right,” ellie mumbles, straightening up her posture. “sorry. i’ll be on my way to the state dining room right now.”

approaching said room, ellie can already hear the fuss– loud and polite conversations, the snapping of photos, subtle classical playing over the speakers. christ, ellie thinks, how do i render myself invisible?

ellie’s worries ease the minute she steps inside, however, as the commotion isn’t around her own family today. it’s the royal family. and that realisation almost sparks up yet another mini freakout in ellie’s mind. she’s been looking forward to this for weeks, of course she has, a hot princess living in her home for an entire month..? that’s something she could get used to. but it’s real now, and just staring at you is sending a chill down ellie’s spine.

flash photography and yelling of the invited press is suffocating ellie as she ventures further into the room. she hasn’t even been noticed yet, thank god, so she decides to humbly busy herself at the table of finger food. until–

“ellie williams?”

a delicate voice smooth and sweet, ellie’s ears prick up to the sound of an accent unique and she knows exactly who this has to be.

fuck.

ellie makes quick effort to swallow the stupid cocktail frank she was eating and turns around, wiping her clammy hands on the ass of her slacks.

a princess standing right in front of her, of course these things only happen to ellie in her most cringeworthy moments. demolishing a table of finger food… what can she say? she’s an anxious snacker.

“ah-” ellie’s eyes meet your own and she gulps, extending a hand. “a pleasure to meet you, princess…”

get your head in the game, ellie. she clears her throat, putting on her famous, confident smile. and as you place your hand in hers, she acts purely without thinking, lifting your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. nobody was watching, but ellie drops your hand in an instant- is flirting with a princess the right move? even if it’s humorous?

your brain just about short-circuits, and ellie’s reeling. that was stupid, so stupid. acting on total whim.

the collar of ellie’s shirt feels too tight as she observes the split-second utter shock in your eyes, though she relaxes as you reward her a smile. and it isn’t that typical, media-trained smile, either.

“charming,” you murmur in response, eyes fixed on ellie’s piercing greens. however delighted you might be to be treated in this way by a girl like ellie, the way in which you hide it is effortless.

and charming, of course, is exactly what ellie is. messy, shirt creased and hair tousled and she honestly reeks of expensive cologne and faint smoke – but she has that handsome smile and that confident demeanour that the girls of washington d.c. fall for so easily.

“i hope so,” ellie says with an awkward chuckle, shoving her hands into her pockets. “that’s the aim of the game.”

you laugh similarly, politely, and make it as clear as possible to glance ellie up and down. “i’ll play.”

and the look on ellie’s face is plain silly at the least, her brows furrowed and eyes wide. “wh- uh..”

“say, it’s a little stuffy in here,” you say, gently fanning yourself, “you wouldn’t happen to know of any quiet spaces we could disappear to?”

ellie’s lips form a small o-shape as she processes the question. you want to be alone with her. a smirk crosses ellie’s face and she nods, “absolutely, your highness. my office.”

“would you be so kind as to show me to it?”

“of course, follow me,” ellie nods her head to the direction of the door. “we’ll have to sneak around.”

your heels click against the floor while ellie leads you down the hall, the sound a constant reminder to her that you’re actually walking alongside her. approaching a large door adorned by a gold plate with ellie’s name carved into it, she pulls a key from her pocket. and yet her eyes are on you the whole time.

the door clicks open and ellie holds it for you, only for her face to turn red when met with the sight of her office.

“excuse the mess,” she mutters, closing and locking the door behind the two of you. “i was uh, in here late last night. i had a speech to work on.”

“it’s alright,” you say, “some organised mess makes it homely.”

“right,” ellie nods. she’s beyond sensical thought now, just going along with anything you say. try harder. this is ellie’s issue, she eggs herself on too much, gets too overzealous, does things for the sake of doing them because her life has quite literally no direction if she doesn’t set herself these impossible dares. “just take a seat anywhere if you like. the couch is pretty comfy.”

ellie makes a pointless attempt to tidy some papers on her desk. she doesn’t necessarily do a lot of work here, though she enjoys being an activist, often writing speeches and finding causes to help others. though it did only begin in the first place as a way to increase the votes for her father’s party during the election- that doesn’t mean it isn’t genuine!

it’s just that ellie’s lazy ass needs pressure to do these things.

she gnaws her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, watching as you sit on the two-seater, eyeing the guitars along the wall of the office. “you play?”

“hm? no,” you say, watching ellie take a warm toned acoustic and sit beside you. “i’m a pianist, though.”

“pianist?” ellie chuckles, thumb stroking over each string of the guitar. “you’ll have to play for me sometime.”

you nod, watching intently as ellie begins playing a quiet tune. she can’t help but notice your rigid, straight posture. she can’t tell if you just have great posture, or if you’re uncomfortable.

but, noticing your eyes lingering over her nimble fingers as they pick at the guitar, ellie’s lips curl upwards just slightly.

she knows well when she’s got a girl worked up. she’d never expected the princess to be this easy.

“music is just beautiful,” you say with a small nod, again, that genuine smile small as ever on your lips insecurely. “nothing like it.”

“you think so?” ellie muses, and when you manage to finally stray your eyes from her hands, you meet ellie’s own soft gaze. “because i think… even the most beautiful ballad couldn’t compare to the solid view i got right now.”

you scoff, turning quiet as heat fills your cheeks. your brows furrow as you tilt your head a nod to the side, studying ellie’s features, searching for any hint of dishonesty. and it’s like she can tell that, with your gaze silently begging her to not be messing with you- she turns her expression more serious.

“you’re something else, williams,” you retort, though adjusting yourself a little closer. knees touch, and you don’t flinch away.

“yeah?” ellie grins. the room goes silent, ellie no longer continuing to play her tune. the guitar on her lap, she rests her chin over it. “something good, or something bad?”

there’s a more subtle smirk on her face now. she begins to move, setting the guitar down and leaning it against the couch as she shifts even closer.

“mmm…” you think for a moment, a smaller expression of interest visible across your features. “something that my head tells me is not a good idea, but my heart says is just fine.”

how the fuck did i get here, ellie wonders? she’s running on pure luck at this point. stumbled in late and somehow she’s got a princess way in over her head.

and ellie doesn’t leave you waiting a moment longer– the second you lean closer she’s grabbing your head and meeting your lips in a fervent kiss, one you gasp into and immediately lean into, hands falling into place with one on her chest and the other on the back of her neck.

pulling away breathlessly, ellie chuckles a bit and shrugs her shoulders, “eh- oops?” she looks almost embarrassed by her own reckless act. “sorry.”

there’s too much going on for you– just too much in your head. your first kiss, the first other lesbian you’ve ever met. her words get you weak in the knees, yet she gets just as flustered by her own actions which seem to only ever work on impulse. so you start laughing, and you can’t stop.

ellie herself laughs a little, watching you giggle at her pink face as you lean into the back of the couch and hold up a cushion to hide your face. it’s all snorting and snickering and ellie’s face is getting redder.

she snatches the cushion out of your hands and raises a brow at you, “if you keep being that cute i’m gonna–”

“sorry,” you laugh, “sorry-”

ellie can’t help but notice how much it seems like you really needed this laughing fit, the way it’s instantly relaxed you…

“that’s it,” she mutters with a chuckle, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer. “c’mere.”

the yelp of surprise that ellie’s movement elicits has her beaming, holding you on her lap. she rests a hand on the back of your head, the other cupping your ass. it’s indecent, indelicate to touch a princess like that, and yet you’re not stopping her. ellie’s already found herself addicted.

because this time ellie lets herself just go, pressing her lips to yours. she swipes her tongue over your bottom lip, grunting as you gasp. with your lips parted she slips her tongue into the kiss. she isn’t just kissing you, she’s devouring. she’s making sure not to leave an inch of your mouth unexplored, nor will she allow it for your body, getting rather handsy. every pretty little sound you breathe motivates her to continue, pulling you back in every time you pull back for air.

a hand slides under your dress, gripping your thigh, the other squeezes your breast before gliding to the curve of your ass, and she slumps into the couch. her boxers are growing uncomfortably wet and she needs to do something about it, hold you down on her desk and–

a key turns in the door and her eyes snap open, as do yours. not a single word is said but the panicked look you share tells all as you move back onto the couch beside ellie, smoothing down your dress. she grabs her forgotten guitar and moves it onto her lap.

and in mere seconds, the door opens to reveal a housekeeper who had used the master key to get in. and she’s clueless, though a little discomforted by the taut smiles you and ellie offer.

“sorry to interrupt you, ladies,” she offers awkwardly. “nobody has seen either of you in a long time, it was requested by president williams that we search the place.”

“ah,” ellie muses, clearing her throat before her voice can come out as weak as it feels. “i understand. we’re alright, yes, sorry, um… we needed a quiet place.”

sitting there with that prim and proper posture once again, your leg crossed over the other, you stare at ellie, resisting the urge to reach over right now and fix her hair after having ran your hands through it with desperation.

this is going to be an interesting state visit.

tag list (msg me or find my tag list in my pinned post if u want to be tagged!!): @dinasvampgf

🙈🙈 omg this fic..

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams x fem reader #fem reader #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ fanfic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x you #ellie x yn #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x yn #ellie fanfic

[everythingne]

you have me and I have you -- DR3

Taking the twins to meet Daniel at a race nearly ends in disaster for the youngest, luckily you remember a little saying that goes a long way for when her emotions get too big for her all weekend away from her favorite person on the planet.

daniel ricciardo x wife!mother!reader

warnings/notes: probably inaccurate f1 information (specifically with where they live but idc its my fic), i'm not going off any actual timeline of real events dude this is just vibes, maxiel content bursting out of this fic, might make this little family a series i dunno, i don't have the most knowledge of daniel's career so mind some gaps

--

You and Daniel lived an exceptionally private life--surprisingly. Alpha Tauri's home base was in Faenza, Italy. And when Daniel was announced to be driving for them, you both tossed around a few different city names until Max of all people found you both a quaint little house just outside of the main touristy parts of Ravenna.

Somehow the world champion knew the both of you would find it was a perfect spot to nestle in for the time being. You knew that once the girls really got into school, like proper schooling, you'd have to settle them near Daniel's family. That's what you'd agreed to do when you planned to return to teaching full-time, but for now, Ravenna worked beautifully.

And it was beautiful too.

You had moved and traveled a lot with Daniel due to his career, it had never bothered you in the near decade the both of you had been together. The two of you never fought, sure you argued, but nothing hateful. It was usually a 'stop overthinking this' or 'stop overworking yourself on that' and with two perfectionists who adored their careers and families it could get a bit tense. But, you loved Daniel more than anything, and he loved you just the same. So it always worked out in the end.

Three years dating, one year engaged, seven years married, five years parents. Parents. Two beautiful twin daughters, you hadn't not been trying for kids, and though the girls were a surprise, they were happily welcomed by the Ricciardo's and your family when announced. And of course their loads of F1 uncles, like Max, Yuki, Lando, and of course Pop Pop and Grannie Horner, who had just about died when the youngest of the two twins--Rosella, called them that without you or Daniel prompting her to.

"She speaks the truth!" Daniel had laughed when Geri scooped the little girl up in her arms and squeezed her, kissing her forehead. Max had just laughed for like ten minutes at Christian's face before the man finally made some remark that he was "finally old enough for that title."

And then a few months later little Penelope would do the same, with a quite similar reaction.

Life in Ravenna was perfect, and you had been blessed with a remote job that allowed you to work anywhere making your life a breeze of constant travel, love, and spending nights alongside your husband or his family and friends in lavish hotels for grand prix.

Speaking of Grand Prix, it was time to get the girls moving. The two of them, Rosella Grace Ricciardo and Sienna Michelle Ricciardo, are currently settled with their suitcases beside them in the living room as you finish unplugging the necessary items and locking up the house. Rosella was playing with her stuffed bear, idly singing some song her grandparents had been trying to teach her, and Sienna was currently trying to repack her bag that you had so meticulously put together.

"Si, stop messing with your bag, sweetheart." You try to not let any annoyance sink into your tone but fail a little as you make your way to the foyer.

"Sorry, Momma." Sienna pouts and hides in on herself, her big brown eyes and bouncy curls making you think of her father--who was currently in a car going god knows how fast on the track. Max had been the one to invite you to Miami, saying it would be good to get the girls there to surprise Daniel.

What he hadn't thought of was how hard it is to get two twins through the airport, who look exactly like Daniel Ricciardo, without raising any eyebrows because this was their first appearance at the track since they were toddlers and didn't look like much of anyone except for having Daniel's undoubtedly huge smiles.

"Hey," you say, but don't explain the sentence that brings both of your daughters immediate calm, "You have me and I have you."

The sentence, something from the night before you married the girl's father basically equated to 'we've got this, don't freak out, I'm not mad and you're gonna be fine.' and whatever else it needed to at the moment and it had been a constant in the past seven or so years of your life.

And Sienna calms herself immediately, nodding at you.

You peck a kiss to Sienna's hairline as you repack her bag, "All better, nothing to be sad about, okay?"

She nods, taking her bag and helping her sister grab her stuff as you get them out to the car. The two are pretty well-behaved by now and have learned when to do as you ask and when it's okay to play around a little. You thank Daniel for that, he'd always set a good example. Once everything is in the trunk, you secure the girls in their seats and then thank one of the women you'd become close with down the road for driving you to the airport.

Natalie grins, patting your shoulder as you settle in with a big huff, "I just wish you luck getting them through the airport by yourself! Usually, you have Michelle with you."

"Well, Michelle's unable to come to Miami because she's working, so it's just me this time!" You try to hide your annoyance at the whole situation already, but Natalie just laughs as she starts to drive through the streets of your beloved town.

"Don't stress it, those girls are too well-mannered to cause a fuss."

"I hope so." You sigh, glancing over your shoulder at the both of them.

--

The airport in Italy is a breeze, it's the Miami airport that gives you trouble with the girls because one file isn't filled out correctly. One fucking file. You end up leaving poor Geri Halliwell in the pick-up lane for like an hour while you scramble to fix it so you're not shipped off back home with the girls, who are tired and miserable and just wanna go to bed.

And you'd run out of snacks on the plane, which was another level of catastrophe as Rosella complains every two seconds she's starving and going to die while Sienna complains her feet hurt and makes you carry her around.

Luckily, the airport staff seems to take a bit of pity on you and push you through as quick as possible. You stumble out to the pick-up line to find your ride, the warm Miami air making the girls want to play a bit. Setting down Sienna you make both girls keep one hand on your suitcase as you meet Geri halfway to the car and she kneels down to give the twins hugs as they scream her name.

"So much for discreet." You huff, watching Geri happily interact with the girls. And you learn right then that she's always planning ahead (maybe it's the whole having four kids thing) as she pulls out two little baggies of packed snacks for the girls from her coat.

Once the girls spot Christian, it's game over as they sprint with their little suitcases bouncing behind them and he barely has time to kneel before they're trying to hug him.

"Lookin' good Mama," Geri grins as she picks up Sienna's discarded backpack and you laugh off the compliment as she stands, placing her hands on her hips, "I'll take it they missed us?"

"They wouldn't shut up about getting to see you guys all week after Danny left," You let her pull you into a hug as she kissed your hairline. She helps you get the girl's stuff in the car while Christian entertains the two who sit in the back seat and you end up between your daughters on the drive to the hotel.

"We rented you a room on another floor just for tonight, we figured you'd wanna surprise Danny at the race." Geri turns to talk to you as Christian drives and you nod, leaning forward so she can sit straight. Sienna's babbling to Christian about class, Rosella trying to butt in to get his attention too, and you lean your head on Geri's seat.

"Thank you guys, I'm serious when I say I'll pay you back."

"It came out of Oracle Red Bull Racing's pocket, not mine." Geri holds her hands up and you let out a soft laugh, finally feeling the weariness of the nearly twelve-hour flight.

When you make it to the hotel, Christian goes first to ensure the coast is clear, and you find they've already checked into the room so you're able to go straight up. Once inside, you thank the Horners one more time with tight hugs and a promise to bring them around to Italy soon before shutting the door.

"Momma!" Rosella whines as soon as the door is locked and dead-bolted shut, "I'm tired!"

"Me too!" Sienna copies her twin and flops on the floor and you laugh.

"Let's get you two ready for bed, yeah?" You muse, grabbing the suitcases and flipping them open, and letting the girls pick out the pajamas while you do the same with some loungewear. It's only around five at night, and you do still need to feed the girls a proper dinner, so you assume a short nap with a break for chicken nuggets before bed will be perfect.

--

You rouse from sleep to two sets of little hands hitting you, the girls giggling as they whisper, "Momma, momma!"

"Mhmn," You groan, rubbing your face, "Yeah?"

"Daddy called you, Rosella answered it like a big girl!"

"Mhm!" Rosella cheers, leaning to not-so-secretly whisper, "I didn't even tell him the big secret!"

"That's great--" You go to say sleepily and then you blink your eyes open when you hear Danny laughing over the phone and you sit up to your elbows and snag the phone from her.

"Both of you, shoo." You wave a hand and the girls shriek as you curl your fingers like you're going to tickle them and then sit up in bed.

"I swear I set an alarm." You laugh, rubbing your eyes as you check the clock--in Italy, it would be noon right now which would be typical for your afternoon nap with the girls.

"No big deal. I just wanted to call you when I was getting up for race day." Daniel yawns and you can imagine him rubbing at his face as he lets out a muffled groan over the phone, "How are you and the girls?"

"They're having a blast but being little tornadoes," You huff, "but I'm managing."

"Ah, that's my girl. Superstar mom." You can physically hear Danny's smile in his voice and it makes you laugh, when you ask him how he's doing he regales practice and qualifiers as you get yourself out of bed and grab the girls a change of clothes. Mouthing for them to get in the shower as you mute the phone so Danny doesn't hear the water as you turn it on. Walking back to supervise from the doorway you pop in a few questions here and there.

By the time the call is wrapping up, Sienna's gotten soap in her eyes, so you bid Daniel a quick goodbye as you scold Rosella for splashing her sister in the face and end the call. You double-check to make sure it's actually ended before you move into the bathroom.

It takes an hour for you to get ready, which means by the time you're bringing the girls down to meet with Geri, her kids, and Kelly and Penelope, all the drivers are making their way to the track.

But, of course, you have to run into Charles in the elevator.

"Didn't know you were gonna make it this weekend," Charles says as you step in, the girls shy away from him a little, especially Sienna who practically buries herself behind her sister. You laugh softly.

"Guys, it's just Charles." You say over your shoulder and they both peek up again before gasping and jumping over to hug him. He kneels down to the girls, accepting both of their tight hugs as you speak,

"We weren't until Max told me he got us paddock passes,"

"They're still that close, huh?" Charles stands once the girls release him and you shrug,

"I think Max feels bad for how it ended with them in Red Bull, kinda like how Lando and Daniel are still super close after McLaren because of--God, don't get me started actually." You pinch your nose, the wound of McLaren's drop of Daniel had been the most difficult part of your partnership with Daniel thus far. You hoped it stayed that way.

"I'm glad they're still close." Charles smiles and then bids you goodbye as a Ferrari employee starts scolding him in French--or Italian, or maybe both, as she drags him off in the opposite direction.

You cart the twins off to the little restaurant within the hotel, thanking the hostess who brings you to Geri and Kelly's table and you greet them with a happy smile. Once the kids are all introduced and settled, you relax and roll out your neck.

"I am exhausted." You announce and Kelly pushes a mimosa towards you, grinning, and you happily take it. Breakfast goes relatively well, Penelope wants to sit in your lap halfway through because she missed you, and Bluebell updates you on her applications for university.

The Halliwell-Horner kids are a mess of different parents, but all act just as loving as your own twins, it makes you smile as you notice Bluebell pause mid-sentence to make sure her sister ordered her food correctly and her brother has enough to drink when the waitress comes around to check on you all.

And then Sienna gasps and points at the TV, squealing at an ear-piercing decibel, "Dad!"

"Shh!" You hush her, both Kelly and Geri laughing as you try and handle the two kids who are excitedly pointing out their father on the TV. It's interviews from yesterday on replay in preparation for the race later. And the twins won't stop even with you, Geri, Kelly, and the other kids at the table (save for Geri's youngest) trying to hush them.

"Girls. Knock it off or we're going outside!" You hiss through your teeth, pointing at the two next to you, and Rosella literally screams 'no' at you.

"Good grief." You sigh, then grab her by the waist and wave for her sister to follow you. While Sienna's a little hesitant, a gentle tap from Geri makes the girl scoot off her chair and follow you and a screeching Rosella out of the small restaurant. The three of you settle on the floor as you try to calm a clearly upset Rosella, who curls into your side.

"C'mere, Si." You hold an arm out as you sit on the floor and Sienna curls into your other side. You wipe the frustrated tears off Rosella's face, she had always been attached to Daniel by the hip, you weren't sure why you assumed this would be easier for her than her sister.

"I know you guys are excited to see your dad, I know, I am too." You say to the two twins who sit in your lap on the floor in probably the nicest hotel in Miami, "I miss him just as much as you guys do but... we have to be quiet in restaurants. We can't start screaming like we're at home, okay?"

"Momma, 'm sorry Momma." Rosella sniffles and you pepper soft kisses to her hairline and wipe the tears from her face as Sienna gives her twin a hug.

"It's okay, darling, you know you have me and I have you, yeah? You just have big emotions you wanna get out, but we have to remember inside voices and that there's always a time and place for everything, okay?" You rub her back as she hiccups, big tears rolling down her face as she starts calming down with big gasps.

The girl nods, scrubbing at her face and you give her a little kiss on the top of her forehead before giving Sienna a kiss there too.

"Are we calm enough to talk now, Ella?" You say softly and the girl nods, you scoop her up and bring Sienna back in so she can sit at the table and eat, informing Geri and Kelly you'll be right back after you take Rosella on a little calm down walk.

And you end up in a little courtyard, bouncing Ella on your hip as she speaks softly as you pause at a fountain.

"And Daddy's always there when I'm sad." She recounts as she hiccups, still crying a little as you rock her and rub her back, "and I got sad he wasn't there, and then he wasn't there to make me happy, and it made me more sad."

"Oh honey, it's okay." You look over your shoulder, swearing for the third time you're seeing Lando out of the corner of your eye--which is impossible because he's at the track and you're just being paranoid.

"Big emotions come out sometimes, it's happened to me. When your dad and I got married, I freaked out on him the night before because I was so stressed something would go wrong. I screamed at him, like a full freakout," You sigh, pressing your lips to your daughter's hair before whispering, "You know what he did?"

"What did he do?" Rosella sits back so she can look you in the eyes, you bounce her up and readjust your grip.

"He held me like I'm holding you now and he said 'I know you've got big emotions and so do I, but you know what we also both have?'" You remember the way he'd pressed his lips to your hairline, hands tucking you into his body as he cradled you in the bathroom of the wedding suite in the hotel,

"And I said 'no' because I was having big emotions, and he said 'You have me and I have you.' Just like right now, Ella, you have me and I have you."

"Oh! That's why you and Daddy say that." Ella smiles, kicking one of her feet a little and you nod. She wipes the last of the tears from her eyes and you kiss her cheek, before walking back to the restaurant when she claims she's finally calm enough to eat and be a little quieter.

--

About ten thousand things are happening in the Alpha Tauri garage when you sneak in with Yuki's help. You see Daniel off to the side, talking with some engineers with a stressed expression, and instead of walking over to wrap your arms around him like you want to-- you cart the twins off to his driver's room and settle them in there.

"Should I get him?" Yuki asks once he's finally gotten Sienna to pry off his leg and you laugh, shaking your head.

"Surprise, remember?" You speak softly, hushing the giglging twins.

"Yeah, but he's..." Yuki makes a face and you roll the idea around in your head. The girls had never seen Daniel frustrated, any sort of negative emotions you and Daniel tried to keep away from them.

"How bad?" You ask, mouthing one to ten, and Yuki mouths back a solid nine. So you groan, dragging your hands down your face and holding up a hand for him to wait while you kneel down and wave the girls over.

"Listen, Ella, Si." You poke their arms playfully as they quiet down their giggles when you slowly lower your hands to the floor, "Quiet time, okay? Momma's gonna go out and see where Daddy is, and I might bring him back here, okay?"

The girls nod and you kiss both of their foreheads before leaving the driver's room with Yuki and speaking softly, "I'll come with you."

He nods and waves you along, making his way through the back hall and back into the main area of the garage where Daniel was standing with his back to you. Mouthing good luck, Yuki slips off to stand beside Daniel as they talk racing stats. You just stand for a while, watching your husband as he clearly fusses over some fudging of numbers and how the team seems to be running whatever tactic on a sort of hail-mary moment. You know he hates leaving it up to fate.

"Okay, well," Daniel groans, clearly wanting to change strategy but knowing he's unable to do so, "I don't even know."

Yuki suggests something, but it gets shot down, and then you slowly start to inch forward. You see the videographers and photographers readying themselves for the moments, cameras lifting up high as they wait for the moment or whatever line will come out of your mouth.

"This is literally just as frustrating as getting the twins to relax on a plane," Daniel complains, Yuki smirking and biting the inside of his cheek as you finally cross the room to stand behind your husband.

"I dunno, I did pretty well--"

"--Holy shit!" Daniel shouts, barreling himself into you as he sweeps you off your feet in a loud laugh, "Oh my god! Hello! What?! When did you get here?!"

He sets you down after a tiny spin and presses a long kiss to your lips before you can explain, his hands firm on your hips and your arms tossed around his neck, just like puzzle pieces.

"Max got me passes, we got in last night. Blame the entirety of Red Bull." You wave a hand and Daniel kisses you once more, arms now wrapping around you.

"Okay, fuck strategy for a moment, I need this." He says to the Alpha Tauri team who wave him off and laugh, and you let Daniel just bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the way too expensive Dior perfume he'd bought you for your birthday, and sigh out his stress.

"You have me and I have you." You murmur to him, pressing your lips to the side of his head, since it's all you can reach at this angle, a very similar angle to which his mini-me had been held in only a few hours prior.

"I know." He steps back, then blinks at you, "Wait. The twins are here too aren't they?"

"How the fuck--"

"You aren't wearing your necklace you always wear when you have someone babysit them for the weekend." He pokes the necklace you are wearing, one of your last names written in one of the prettiest fonts you'd ever seen, the gold blackened and dirty from its constant wear. A wedding gift from his mother.

"You little shit." You whisper, before turning and shouting, "Ella! Si!"

And it's like they were waiting for it because the sound of the door slamming against the wall followed by the patter of small sneakers sounds through the garage as the twins sprint to find you and their father. Their joyful screams overlap as Daniel drops to one knee to scoop both girls in his arms, fawning over their matching sundresses (custom-made to be the same color as his racing suit, as is the dress you wear) as he lifts them up to your height.

"Look at my girls." Daniel smiles, letting the twins babble on about whatever as he turns to press a kiss to your cheek, "Thank you."

"Thank Max." You step up to take Sienna from his arms so he can easily hold Rosella, but the arm you've freed snags you by the hip and pulls you close.

"There we go!" He grins at you, "All three of my girls in one place, yeah?"

And it's perfect, a little slotted puzzle piece, and regardless of if they figure out whatever issues are going on with the car you know Daniel will be loving every minute of Miami this year. Just because the three of you are there as his backbone.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #dr3 x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo fic

[rntoshi]

— isagi yoichi (n): the unintentional fuck boy.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏/ • yoichi is pro, all characters are adults.

no one would ever think to associate the term “fuck boy” to the heart of gold that is isagi yoichi. the blue eyed ravenette comes across as such a sweetheart when people first meet him. a bit hardheaded if you really know him, but a sweetheart, nonetheless. there's so much passion and drive behind his eyes that it's charming— alluring to the hopeless romantic type for the fact that they like to daydream about what could be. anyone could get lost in a fantasy about being swept off their feet by a pretty face like isagi, he makes it effortless really. golden retriever energy is what you would call it. it's why he's so popular with women, he comes across as this boy next door who’s so willing to do anything to achieve a goal he has set in his heart. that's the image he's painted for himself in the public eye, and not that it's inaccurate: it just simply doesn't translate well into his love life.

one of his issues is... isagi doesn't realize just how attractive he is. as it's been said before, he's himbo adjacent. the attention he gets... he sums it up as getting “lucky.” his friendliness can be perceived as flirting, even more so that he doesn't take into account that he's one of the hottest players in the blue lock program. his gorgeous face and his athletic but lean physique make him physically attractive but it's also the mannerisms he possesses as well. little things like being the type to place a gentle hand on the small of your back if he's trying to walk past you in a crowded area. a polite “excuse me, I'm sorry.” leave his lips and the prettiest smile when you two make eye contact lingers just a second too long. or the crease between his brows when he's frustrated or tired— running both hands through his hair which exposes his forehead. it.

he never intends to, but he can't help but to well... get cold feet after the climax of one of his newfound “flings.” once the initial excitement has passed, it's not as appealing for him anymore but there's a reason for this. it's his post nut clarity that gets him every time. that immediate clear mindedness or soberness a guy gains after blowing his load. lying in bed with a girl as she talks about their future— the pillow talk goes well until the plans she proposes clash with his career. isagi has a tendency to equate entertaining the thought of a relationship as him putting priority towards just that, and not his real passion. it's just that isagi is at a point in his career where... nothing will ever amount to how important his job is to him. he's dedicated so much time and effort to get to the point where he is now. its time consuming and mind plaguing, it's the long-lasting effects that blue lock has had on him throughout the years. it's built an insane work ethic and need to crave more. nothing can or will get in the way of him and his vision. it's a curse all athletes have and unfortunately isagi yoichi, our sweet mc, is not an exception. it probably affects him the worse, really.

these girls he gets involved with always seem to have a trend of leaving feminine items in his gym bag. thongs, bras, hair scrunchies and even jewelry in hopes of isagi returning them. some girls do it for his attention and others do it because they want to plant this seed that isagi is “seeing” them. the paparazzi can catch anything and will often seek for certain shots if they're tipped off.

it's kind of funny because out of everyone, raichi is the one who discovers isagi is a bit of a whore. it's a regular day at practice when all the boys were in the locker room getting themselves situated before hitting the field. isagi is sitting on the bench when he pulls out his cleats, and in the process a hot pink thong falls on the floor beside raichi's feet where he foot only a couple feet away. of course, blondie gives isagi a hard time about it.

“tch, you still seein' that one brunette, huh? she your girl yet?” raichi picks up the pair of panties, leaning against the locker with a smug smile twirling the skimpy garment around his pointer finger before sling shotting it back to isagi.

“hah.. no.” isagi lets out a small, breathy chuckle as he catches the underwear. he's a little embarrassed but it's nothing he's not used to. “i met someone else. she's a sweet girl though.”

“the hell are you talkin' about? you were just screwing this other chick last monday.” raichi raises a brow as he straightens his posture, only now realizing why isagi never said a specific name. it's because they were all different girls. ha, that's rich.

“ah.. well yeah.” isagi gives a shy smile, scratching the back of his neck before he shoves the panties back into his bag, in a smaller and more discreet pocket. raichi only shakes his head before turning around back to his locker.

“it's always the humble ones.” raichi mumbles to himself.

yoichi finds himself puzzled at how often these kinds of things end up in his possession at the most inconvenient times but he never thinks too deeply about it. his indifference to the situation makes them want to chase him even harder. do even more outlandish things to get his attention when his tunnel vision is impossible to break.

he routinely goes to the gym after these one-night stands. it’s like a detox but for his mind, cleansing it of all the diluted thoughts that fogged his vision. it's almost like his own form of meditation.

there’s something so hot about isagi working out after a hookup. it's the post sex glow he has, the thin layer of sweat on his body, the determined look in his eye as he pushes himself past his usual limits. his cock is semi hard in his sweats from his endorphins, creating a prominent print under the gym's harsh lighting. he feels like a brand-new man after. refreshed and ready for the next fight on the field.

isagi is sweet! he really is! he doesn't like making girls cry. but he can't help that he's awful at texting back or returning calls. yoichi just forgets, getting too caught up in practice, games and press conferences.

it's not all isagi's fault though, because he is such sweetheart and can come across as a little manipulative, women often think they can take advantage of securing a marriage with a professional athlete. most are in for a rude awakening when their plans fall short while others simply pick up on the behavior and more onto the next team with the next player.

it won't be like this forever though. i believe this version of isagi is the kind of guy to realize he's fallen in love with his childhood best friend. isagi is known to be extremely loyal so any relationships that have already been established are taken quite seriously by him. you were that sweet girl who lived next door to him for years. you always had cute band aids for when he scraped his knees and yummy snack to share after school. you weren't very athletic, but you always cheered for him even during his loses. you were also one of his biggest support systems when he was going through the blue lock programs. you've always been an anchor in his life and it's something he doesn't realize until you two lose contact for a couple years.

it's funny how things work out too because it just so happens that you two visit home around the same time. when he sees you in your mother's flower garden you had only gotten prettier. you're wearing a flowy sundress and a sunhat; he thinks it's so cute— refreshing to see in contrast to the girls that usually approach him. there's a moment where you finally lock eyes with him, and it makes his tummy drop.

and he realizes he's in love.

© rntoshi 2023. do not modify or repost.

#┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° bria writes! #blue lock x reader #blue lock isagi #blue lock isagi x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock isagi smut #blue lock x y/n #bllk isagi #bllk smut #bllk x reader #bllk isagi x reader #bllk headcanons #blue lock x you #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi smut #isagi yoichi #isagi yoichi smut #isagi yoichi x you #blue lock imagines #bllk #blue lock #isagi x you #yoichi isagi

[moonstruckme]

Dude I just get my hearing aid after have trouble hearing for some months

Could I request one for any character you like with a reader with hearing problem? When it happens they already in relationship so it a big change for both of them?

Cos not everyone in my family take it kindly... So it might happen in relationship too right?

I'm sorry you had to wait so long lovely! I don't have much experience with hearing impairments, so I apologize if anything is inaccurate—please feel free to let me know! And thank you for requesting <3

cw: frustrations around not hearing well, difficulties aquiring healthcare

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’re dicing onions, blinking hard against the fumes and trying to make as quick work of it as you can, when something touches your lower back. You gasp and jolt, knife slipping down the curvature of the onion and scaring you badly enough that you drop it as you spin around. 

Steve looks just as startled as you do, staring at you with wide eyes. Lately, you’ve had trouble catching everything people say when they talk, but that’s not an issue now because he’s immediately yelling. 

“Jesus—shit!” He drops into a squat, picking up the knife you hadn’t realized had clattered to your feet. Your heart’s still going a mile a minute, his panic fueling your own. “What the hell was that?” 

You press your fingers to your temples, mindless of the vegetable juice stickying your hairline. “Oh my god,” you pant, “you scared me!” 

You see it click in Steve’s face. “You couldn’t—I said hi when I came in.” He shakes his head, agitated. “You hummed back!” 

“I didn’t.” 

“You did!”

“I must have been humming about something else!” A belated, frightened tear leaks from your eye, and you take a harsh breath, trying to slow the adrenaline racing through your bloodstream. “I didn’t hear you.” 

The appearance of tears reverses your boyfriend’s demeanor in an instant. “Hey,” he says, now soft enough that you see his lips form the word more than hear it. He sets the knife on the counter, gripping your upper arms. “Okay, I’m sorry. Don’t cry.” 

“It’s the onions,” you huff, though you’re not sure that’s strictly true. 

He makes a sound that might be a word and pulls you into his chest. You fist your hands in the material of his sweatshirt, still a little bit furious at him. Or maybe at everyone. Everything. 

Steve says something else, and you sigh. 

“Can’t hear you.” 

Usually he’s better about this, but you still get sick of saying it. It feels like he’s making you remind him, forcing you to admit you can’t get on just the same as everybody else, though of course you know he’d never do that. Steve’s a good guy down to his bones. You’re just mad, lately. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he says at an audible volume. “I thought you could hear the door, and then when you seemed like you responded to me saying hi…I just thought I was good.” 

“It’s fine.” 

You’re shaking just slightly, the adrenaline working its way out of your system, and when Steve notices he tightens his grip on you as if he can contain your panic. 

“I almost made you cut your own finger off,” he says. 

“Well, I didn’t.” 

“Still.” He presses a kiss into your hair. “How long until you can get a hearing aid again?” 

Irritation prickles down your spine. “I don’t know. I’m still working it out with the insurance company.” 

Steve must hear the darkness seeping into your tone, because he gives your upper back a solid rub. “Let me know if there’s any way I can help.” 

You have to clamp your jaw shut, the temptation to be cruel sharp and cutting in your mouth. You could help by remembering to speak up, you want to say. It doesn’t seem like you’re asking that much of him. You can understand when other people forget, but Steve lives with you. It’s not so hard to raise his voice a little when he wants you to understand what he’s saying. Half the time, you can’t even hear yourself when you speak because you’re trying to be considerate of him and talk at a normal volume. When he doesn’t do the same for you, it makes you feel like you’re in this alone. 

Still, you know these thoughts don’t have so much to do with a deficiency in your boyfriend as your upset over your own change in circumstance. All of a sudden, the way you experience the entire world has shifted. You hate asking Steve to accommodate you, and you wish that you didn’t have to ask, but it’s nobody’s fault that you’re both still adjusting. In the time between now and when you eventually get a hearing aid, you’re just going to have to get used to this feeling that you’re a world apart from him. It’s not his fault he can’t be in it with you. 

Steve pulls away from the hug but keeps his hands on your arms, and he’s looking at you oddly. Considering. For all the shit you give him about not understanding when you need help, he really can surprise you with his intuition sometimes. Maybe he just knows you that well. 

You’re about to ask What? and hope your voice doesn’t come out as pissy as you feel when he says, in a tone somehow both loud and gentle, “Maybe I could get you a walkie talkie.” 

You blink. “Huh?” 

“Dustin just got these ones that light up when someone’s talking to you,” he explains. He lets you go, leaning back with his elbows on the counter opposite you and a pensive furrow between his brows. “So what if instead of trying to guess what you can hear, I just call you on that when I’m about to come inside? That way even if you don’t hear it you’ll see the light.” 

“That…could work.” You hesitate. “So I’d just carry it everywhere with me so I see if it lights up?” 

Steve winces. “I guess it doesn’t sound as easy as I’d thought.” 

“No, let’s try it,” you say, encouragingly as you can and nodding for good measure. “It might help.” 

“Yeah?” he asks hopefully. 

“Mhm.” You nod again. “Thanks, Stevie. I know I…I know this is really inconvenient. Thanks for trying so hard.” 

“Hey, it’s not. It’s nothing.” His voice drops until you can barely make it out, and when you look up at him Steve’s expression is softly fond. He makes sure you can hear when he asks, “You want another hug, honey?”

There’s that intuition again. You nod, stepping into his arms where he waits by the counter and wrapping yours tightly around his waist. 

“Thank you,” you say again, the material of his sweatshirt heating with your breath. 

Steve presses his cheek to your head. “Don’t mention it.” 

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x self insert #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fandom #stranger things x reader

[leaentries]

the moon & its stars | luke hughes

summary: luke “knows a spot” hughes

a/n: i’m so so so so soft for luke right, it’s not even funny. also im sorry if this is inaccurate, i don’t know the geography of new jersey and i don’t want to look it up

The car ride was bumpy and long. And you were getting frustrated.

Your night began early, since the Devils had a couple days off from their normal activities. Luke and yourself had every intention of staying cooped up in his apartment, wrapped in blankets..or the more appealing option: each other.

However, this didn’t last long as Jack bursted through the door with some of the guys claiming that he had called dibs on the apartment for the night. Luke tried his best to reason, more like argue, with Jack, but to no avail. Instead of sticking around the loud environment, Luke simply grabbed your hand and his keys and walked the both of you to his car.

“Where are we going, Lukey?” Your voice echoed through the empty parking garage.

“Don’t worry, I know a spot.”

You rolled your eyes at his response, “Luke, I’m serious. This is kidnapping.”

He turned to face you as he stood by the black car, “I can’t kidnap you if you’re not a kid, angel.”

“Then this is abduction.” You huffed.

Luke just smiled before placing a kiss on your cheek and ushering you inside the car.

❥.

Soft country music lulled in the background as Luke’s hand rested on your thigh comfortably. You watched as the buildings of Newark got smaller, your brows furrowed. Looking at the clock, you noticed you had been driving for at least an hour.

Breaking the peaceful atmosphere, you try to wear down Luke’s resolve.

“Lukey, can you please tell me where we are going. We are completely out of the city at this point.”

Luke laughed, squeezing your thigh lightly, “I promise we’re almost there, angel. Just a few more minutes.”

You groaned, going back to looking out of your window.

Another few minutes passed before Luke pulled up to an empty clearing. You looked around suspiciously.

“Oh my god, you actually fucking abducted me.”

Luke let out a breath, “Would you stop with that, woman. Get out of the car.”

You have him a dumbfounded look, “Out there?” You gestured towards the unknown territory, “I’ll die.”

“Oh for heavens sake, y/n. Come on.” Luke took it upon himself to open your door and help guide you into the outdoors. He walked over to the back of the car and popped open his trunk.

“I found this place one night with Nemo and Holtzy. We were bored and just started driving around. It was actually sort of traumatic.”

He grabbed a red and white blanket out of the car, “Holtz had google maps pulled up, but somehow got it turned around and going the wrong way. Next thing we know my tires’ blown out and we had to pull over here.”

You helped close the car door as you followed him further into the clearing, “How come you’ve never told me this story?”

He shrugged, “Don’t know, I guess I wanted to surprise you one day.”

You smiled at his confession. Even the little things he does is enough to make your insides all warm.

Luke continued a for a short while, before laying the blanket down and plopping himself right on top. He looked up at you expectingly, patting the spot next to him.

“C’mon, angel. I won’t bite.” He smirked at you.

“That,” You laid out next to him, “Is a lie. You have bit me before.”

Luke shrugged once more, brushing off your statement, “The past is the past, baby. Let’s focus on the present.”

“I genuinely dislike you.”

Luke gave you a cheeky smile in return.

He moved to lie on his back, gently pulling your body to lie on-top of him. You snuggled closer to his warmth, taking in the sound of his steady heartbeat and the smell of his cologne.

You closed your eyes for a moment, before you felt Luke’s nose nudge into your hair.

“Hmm?” You hummed out to him.

“Look up at the sky, angel.”

Peeking your eyes open, you looked up. You felt your breath disappear as millions of stars shone back at you in their blazing glory. It was very rare to see a sky full of brightness like this back in the city. You wished you could take a picture, to be able to frame this moment forever. But you knew nothing could bet do it justice.

You were speechless. Nothing you could say or do would be able to show how happy you were in the moment.

“You’re my moon, ya know?” Luke’s voice came out in a hushed whisper, “Something that brings light to the darkness. And helps guide me through the night.”

You sat up as he continued talking.

“I always feel connected to you when I look at the moon. Even when we are apart. Sometimes when I’m back in Michigan, I’ll look up at the moon when I miss you.”

Your chest clenched at his vulnerability. You don’t think you could ever love someone as much as you loved the boy in front of you.

“If i’m your moon, then you’re my stars.” You smiled at him, “Because one is never without the other.”

Luke felt his throat tighten with emotion, quickly pulling your face down to his. The both of you remained there until early into the morning, relishing in each other and the night sky.

The drive home was soft and warm, the glow of the early sun kissing your face. What the night brought had been changing for you and Luke, feeling closer to each other than you ever thought possible.

But, after-all, the moon is never without its stars.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes imagine #leawrites💋

[throwaway-yandere]

Ansy maybe I can send an idea about this. Maybe this yandere is turning into a zombie/monster, Reader sacrifices or willingly let's the yandere eat reader so the yandere wouldn't hurt others. Other idea, Yandere is a monster/cannibal and reader has a flesh that is very addicting to eat so yandere feels guilty for eating their darling but can't as darling tastes so delicious.

A/n: I'm actually currently writing the prompt I got earlier so here's some short ideas. also, what's up with me writing cannibalism fics for two older brothers with blue-white color schemes?? *shrug*. I'll go with the 2nd idea-ish (I'll tweak it again) in this one. First time doing headcanons so... I'll adios lol.

Content Tags: hello its yandere cannibalism lmao + Whodunit spoilers

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who strangely takes too long to respond to his childhood friend's messages. You're starting to get worried that he's spending too much time inside the dreamscape. Although your race greatly differs from his- being an ordinary human resident and all- you heard numerous stories that Halovians tend to carnally seek glamorous feasts after hosting series of events.

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who finally replied to your recent message, telling you "DON'T COME, PLEASE." with bold capital letters. You can only raise an eyebrow, considering you're already on his front door with a fruit basket at hand. In hindsight, perhaps you should've considered giving him a heads-up beforehand instead of rudely announcing your visit. But you are genuinely worried for his overall wellbeing, especially given what happened to his sister.

And perhaps, you were also just looking for someone who could understand your grief as well. He wasn't the only one stripped of their family so suddenly. The thought of your friend starving himself had pushed your own sadness away in favor of sheer platonic worry. That was how strong your bond was.

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who shook, mortified at the knocks on his front door. As much as possible, he can't let you in. The current nightmare he calls "HUNGER" was an unforgiving beast. He leaned against the other side of the closed door, breathing heavily.

"(Y/n), n-now is not the time for a visit! Forgive me for this crudeness, but I shan't open the door at present." You hear him inhale shakily. "To have you see me like this undermines all the work I've put in our... friendship."

You sighed. "Alright, I'm sorry. But... can I please just leave this on your porch?"

"... I will not bar you from doing so..."

"Thank you."

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY whose hands refused to stop trembling. You're so close. He can almost taste you behind that door. A chill runs down his spine as he noticed just how much his mouth was watering at the thought of taking a bite.

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who thought himself most detestable for his cravings. The Odes of Harmony preaches honesty among its many virtues, and he would drown himself for omitting the grim truth from you. THEY will not be happy with this relapse of his.

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who bit his thumb, drawing blood. THEY wouldn't endorse this behavior from a representative of the Family.

YANDERE CANNIBAL!SUNDAY who looked at his bleeding finger and laughed sorrowfully at the lingering question on his mind.

Whose blood was it? His... or THEIRS?

Sunday could never be at ease after committing this crime. A Halovian like himself would never allow their vision to be clouded in red, and it appears the devil had saw an opportunity to hurl at two birds with one stone. But that would be an inaccurate way to describe it. His wings had not been clipped; he had brutally torn it away himself.

Penacony's most shrewd man lied to the arrogant fool that evening. There were four murders in that timeframe. One was a stowaway, the other was his precious sister, and the last pair was both your father and mother.

THEIR vision of a happy future for you did not welcome HIM.

All he recalls now was their polite disapproval turned screams when he made an attempt to ask for their blessing. Sunday only realized what he had done the moment he had sunk his teeth down your mother's arm, noticing how your father was already but boney remains of himself.

This Halovian ancestry's secret... it served him no good.

Why was he born into this race and why wasn't he raised just like you?

"Watchmaker... How can I ever forgive myself for this...?"

How can he dare proclaim to mete out justice when he deserves to be served the same sentence? "Sunday" himself is a transgressor, unworthy of yielding Harmony's name.

What heathen he was, to partake in flesh and blood that was not for his stomach simply because they both smelled just like you. What heretic he was, to place anger and hunger above his better judgement.

What karma it was, to find out his sister has been killed in his moments of guilt.

What retribution it was, to face that what he had done to others, will be done unto him.

#ansy-writes #yandere sunday #tw: cannibalism #yandere fic #yandere hsr #yandere sunday x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai #yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #male yandere #yandere headcanons

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

Wild Horses

Part 3

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Doctor!Reader, other characters x reader

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4

A/N: Part 3 is finally here y’all! Sorry it took such a while to finally upload, I have been extremely burnt out and needed some time to recharge after completing my semester. Therefore I have made this chapter extra long! Also sorry if it in any way feels rushed, I tried to get this posted as soon as possible since it has long been due. Let me know if you would like some more dynamics between the reader and the other characters. As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated, I love hearing y'alls thoughts and things that you enjoyed! (Also this chapter contains a surprise guest!) 💜💜💜

Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Warnings and notes: language, violence, blood and gore, fluff, angst, slow-burn, slight implication of past abuse.

(Quick Disclaimer: I am not a doctor nor have any professional knowledge or experience involving surgical procedures. I am just a student studying in the medical field who has just started taking courses that are more degree-related. So I apologize if some of the stuff may be inaccurate.)

🍂That night, the same night Ghost saw you on that roof, your face illuminated by the stars and the moon that seemed to pale in comparison to you, he had returned to his own quarters as stealthily as he had came. His presence had always gone unnoticed both to you and the others at this time of night, a time of night when even the nightingales had laid down to rest, exhausted from their song. When he settled himself in bed that night, his torso covered by his blanket and his arm propped up on the pillow to rest under his head, he could not sleep, staring at the ceiling just as he did the night before. His body begged for a moment’s rest, anything to let his consciousness slip away in order to escape the reality of this world in which only sleep could provide. But in spite of the efforts of his nervous system, his mind contested for a few more minutes of wakefulness, moments that would only turn into hours.

🍂There was always this unspoken battle within Simon Riley, a battle of peace and conflict, a constant struggle between giving in to the comforts of life and leaving everything behind, or preoccupying himself with his current line of work that seemed to be the only thing that kept his thoughts at bay. But starting a new life? That was something that was not cut out for him. His past was and will always be his present and his future. Society had no place for people like Simon Riley, and he it. I’m telling you, this man needs therapy, bad. And one hell of a vacation.

Never in a day of his miserable life did he know you would be thrown into the mix. You, a woman of better upbringing, a woman so delicate and blinded with hope, a woman who shared the warmth of her spirit with all whom she knew. And yet, here she was, wasting her time away in a place with the likes of them, where war consumed every living soul that ever crossed its path. God were you naïve, and completely fucking daft, he had thought to himself many times, a doctor like you leaving the hospital in the city for a place like this. Jesus. Either you were a complete fool or the military offered you a shit ton of money. Or perhaps it was your youth. After all, you were younger than the rest of them. He believed a woman of your degree should not be here amongst men like them. You were soft, tried too hard to see the good in people, and one day, one day, that might be your downfall.

Sometimes he’d find himself hoping you would transfer somewhere else. And the more he thought on the subject, the more he came to despise you being here, part of the reason why he avoided you in the first place. And yet, as the days went by, the man had developed a bit of a soft spot for you as they might say. But don’t tell him that or else he might just loose another one of his knives. Truth of the matter was, he had seen what war had done, even to the best of people. And with no disrespect, a young woman like you would get eaten up alive in a place like this.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he did not want to see you wound up in this chaos. So what would he do? He'd often times monitor your activity, and by that I mean he would on some occasions check up on you, in his own avoidant way of course, whether it be making sure you woke up by standing around the corner to see you trudge along to the coffee maker in your white coat, or catching you finish your shift when you left your office in the evening. By this time, you'd be surprised to know that he has grown familiar with part of your schedule, from when you leave your room and make yourself a cup of coffee in the morning before heading into your office, to what time you have your little lunch, down to the hour of the evening when you leave your office after your shift has ended. He calls it "running a constructive operation", but you and I both know what it is. Despite his cold, masked exterior, he's not completely heartless and does want to make sure you're safe, as with the rest of his teammates.

At the same time, your safety also depends on your environment, and there is only so much a few men can do. Perhaps it would be best if you were somehow convinced to go back to the states and leave, lest this place will end up devouring every last bit of vibrancy that radiated in you. And if that meant being callous towards you and making your time here a living hell, as if you did not belong, so be it. I know it sounds like he absolutely loathes you but I promise it only seems that way.

The man obviously has trouble sleeping, which was nothing new to him, a good nights rest was something of a rarity in his case. But now it was you he found inhabiting the walls of his mind, and frankly, he found it to be quite a nuisance. And as if to make matters worse, tonight it was your voice that haunted his thoughts, that siren-like voice that rung out softly underneath the pale moonlight as if he were a sailor awaiting to plummet to his death down into the abyss of the deep indigo waters below.

He needed sleep, desperately, and if he did not get it soon he might just go insane. That’s to say he isn’t already. And despite finding you to be the cause of the whole ordeal behind it, behind him not being able to shut his eyes and fall into a short-lived coma, you were still the only doctor here and just how was he supposed to go about that. Usually people go to doctors if they have trouble sleeping, but how the fuck was he supposed to go to you. He couldn’t just walk in your office and ask if you had anything strong enough to knock him out. Sure there was always alcohol but that meant dealing with a hangover and you most likely sending him a pamphlet about the dangers of alcoholism without even knowing like some kind of psychic. On the other hand, knowing how you were, if he were to mention his symptoms you would just ask him a bunch of questions. And then what was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t sleep because you tormented and occupied his thoughts??? Never. He decides it’s better to just deal with it.

And boy oh boy your singing did not help. You reminded him of the nightingales that used to nest in the tree outside his bedroom window in his childhood home. You and your guitar, singing your song out into the night for someone out there, whomever and wherever they were. The song and your voice an empty promise, a false hope for the things that never were and never might come. And yet, despite his slight demurral towards you, in the days to come, he came to find comfort in your voice, his feet finding their way to the rooftop to see if you would be there.

On the nights that you were there, he would sit against the wall away from your line of sight, hidden in the shadows and listening to your voice, the only thing that kept him sane and dare say, even bring him an ounce of peace. He would say it was to make sure you don’t pull anything stupid or draw unnecessary attention towards yourself. But truth was, though he could not see it within himself, maybe he was watching over you, making sure no harm came your way. Little would he know, that your voice and the serenity of your aura would soon come to remind him of home, of the days where it was just him and his mother and the nightingales perched on the tree outside his bedroom window, the sound of your voice lulling him to a much needed sleep that his body craved.

Now back to the current.

That next morning you had woken up from the sun shining down on your face, its rays hot against your cheeks as you squinted against the bright light, pulling your blanket over your head with a groan before bolting upright, eyes widened with alarm. Oh shit, what time was it? You look at the watch on your wrist, eyes widening even more to see that it was NOON????? It's fucking noon?

"Fucking shit." You let out a string of curses between your teeth, grabbing your things off the floor only to get up with a gasped groan from the sharp needle-like sensations that shot up your spine, your back hunched over like a shrimp with kyphosis. You wince, hissing as you attempt to straighten yourself out, letting out a couple ows from the cracking sound that came out from between your vertebrae. Boy were you an idiot. Never sleep on cement, now your hips and back feel like they were broken in by the Hulk and you're willing to bet there would be bruises.

You could have sworn you looked like one of those grandmas depicted in the cartoons, wincing almost each time you took a step. A frown pulled on your lips as you headed towards the door that led back to the building, opening it up and nearly whining at the sight of the stairs spanning out below you. "Fuck my life."

You make sure to take your time going down, not wanting to tumble down the steps and risk a broken limb or concussion only to have one of the men patch you up and risk getting an infection. It's not that you don't trust their handiwork......but you don’t. And the thought of having your prefrontal cortex accidentally removed shakes you to your core. Don't tell them that though, you'd probably hurt their feelings.

"Y/n." You hear someone calling your name in the distance, turning your head to see Price heading in your direction.

God damn it, out of all the people to see you in this state. Don't tell anyone but Price is your workplace crush. I mean if we're being honest the whole team is fine as hell. But you loved his snarky sense of humor, his kind eyes and smile, and the way his eyes seemed to disappear into these curved crescent-shaped lines whenever he smiled or laughed. And now as he stood in front of you, his bulky frame towering over yours. You're praying there aren’t any spots of snot on your face from the way you bawled your eyes out last night.

"Oh fuck me." You inaudibly curse under your breath, knowing damn well that to hope he doesn't notice how you literally look a sleep-deprived Quasimodo would be damn near impossible.

"Where've you been? I was beginning to get worried." Price asks, looking over your hunched state that oddly paired with your puffy eyes and face. "Jesus Mary Joseph. Are you alright?"

"Yup, it's just allergies." You nod your head with a strained smile. "Perfectly peachy."

"Do you need any help?"

"Nope! I'm fine." You hurry past him. "I'm going to take a shower so whoever is in there right now tell them to hurry up."

Price watches you go with furrowed brows, wondering whatever the hell happened to you before shaking his head with a shrug and heading towards the showers to make sure it was empty for you. During your time there, the team had sorted out to give you a designated time slot for when you preferred to bathe, wanting to ensure that you received your privacy because of there only being shared showers, something which was common with being in the military. They had even given your own designated shower head. But even then, you always went in and came out fully dressed with both your towels and your clothes, terrified with the idea of the men seeing you in nothing but a towel once you stepped out. Luckily for you, no one was in there when you had arrived. When you hurried in there with your fresh pair of clothes and towels bundled in your arms, that had to be the quickest shower you had ever taken, other than the times you almost slept through your alarms and missed your exams back in med school.

So by the time you step out of your room with your white coat, empty coffee mug in hand and your hair barely brushed through looking like Dr. Emmet Brown, you don't even bother to put on any makeup or concealer to hide the fact that you had been crying last night, you already had a late start to the day as it was.

Going over to the kitchen, you groggily place your mug on the counter, staring at the pasty tiles for a good minute to gather your thoughts and remember just what it was your were doing in the first place before turning on the coffee maker only to see that it isn't working. "You have got to be kidding me." Honest to god if I don't have coffee in the morning I will commit a felony.

"There's no use meddling with that." Price comes up beside you, watching the way you moved the small machine around and smacked the sides with your palms. "I'm afraid it's broken."

"Broken?" You turn to the older gentleman, trying your best to mask your annoyance at yet another misfortune to add to your list of shit that happened today so you don't get written up for having an attitude or whatever it is they do here for uncompliant personnel. "What do you mean it's broken?" What you mean to say is, how the hell are you going to get through the day without your daily dose of caffeine? You were not in the mood for a caffeine withdrawal, not now.

"You'll have to blame MacTavish for that." Damn this man just threw him under the bus no hesitation.

"Soap? How?”

"Bloke put the coffee grounds where the water is supposed to go."

"He put the.......what?" You squint with a scrunch of your nose, trying to picture the young Scotsman mixing up the steps for the coffee grounds and water before pinching the bridge of your nose with a shake of your head. It's too damn early for this. Bitch it's literally the afternoon.

“You look like shite.” Price teases you of your completely disheveled appearance. Honestly he thinks you look pretty cute in a I just had 15 shots of espresso and forgone a whole week’s worth of sleep kind of way. Price is the type of man to see you at your worst looking like a corpse from the grave and dig it, with some concern for your overall health and well-being of course.

“Gee thanks.”

“You sure you’re all right?”

“Happier than a kid at Disneyland.” You roll your eyes before slipping out a small groan, burying your head in your arms upon the counter and muttering something along the lines of how you’re going to euthanize yourself.

“Oi. There’ll be none of that, you hear?”

“Wait and see.” You mumble to yourself but Price hears it anyway.

“Cheer up. I got you something.” You hear Price say to you before hearing something being placed on the counter.

"Is it benzoylmethylecgonine?" You mumble out.

"What?"

"Benzoylmethylecgonine." Your voice is louder this time but still muffled from your arms.

"The fuck is that?"

".................cocaine."

"Jesus Mary Joseph." Price rolls his eyes. “You’re a character, you. Why don’t you give it a look eh?”

You slightly lift your head from your arms, peering over to see a cup next to you.

"For ya." Price smiles as he pushes the cup towards you, watching you stare at the thing with skepticism.

"Well. Go on."

"Is that-?"

"Coffee.”

"Yeah I know that but-“ you lift yourself up to stare at the thing with a tilt of your head. “where the hell did you get it?”

"From a small coffee shop down a couple blocks."

Right. "What kind is it?”

"Iced caramel macchiato. Heard you mentioning it the other day."

"Oh. You did?” You blink. "You didn't have to do all that."

"Eh it's nothin, my treat. The men and I needed our caffeine too, and well, since Soap broke the machine, we needed to get it one way or another.” All but Simon of course. Dude hates coffee.

“What, did you tell him he's buying?"

“No.” Price leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares off into the distance in thought. “Now that I think about it I should’ve, aye?”

"Poor Soap." You shake your head with a chuckle, grabbing the cup to take a sip. “Oh......oh that hit the spot.”

Okay remember when the boys were competing with giving you little gifts and I said that Price showed his appreciation for you in other ways? This is what I mean. He makes sure you’re taken care of and that your little needs and requests are met. Though rare as composed to Soap's little visits, he likes to stop in your office at times, peeking his head through your cracked door and asking if there is anything you need. This man’s love language is acts of service, I’m sure of it.

“Proper innit.” Price chuckles at your blissed expression.

“Hm. Chef’s kiss.” You take another sip of your coffee as you lean back against the counter, savoring in the cold, smokey, buttery liquid as it went down your throat.

“The hell is on your feet.” Price nods towards your shoes.

“They’re my crocs.” You give a hurt look, the ends of your lips pulled into a frown.

“They’re downright hideous.”

“They’re comfortable!!!” You defend. “I even put little buttons on it.” You lift one of your feet up to show him.

“Doesn’t make it any less hideous.”

"You should try looking in a mirror first before you come talking to me about what's hideous and what's not." You snark, a teasing tone in your voice that catches the older man off guard.

Price is stunned, mouth slightly agape as he is surprised to see such a statement come from a person as demure as you, and dare say even aroused, at being affronted by someone smaller than him. "You cheeky girl." Price shifts his weight, pressing his tongue against his molars before tightening his jaw. "You've got a sharp tongue on you."

"Don't insult my crocs." You lift your chin with a raised brow, a smug expression on your face as you lift your coffee cup to your lips.

As Price and you talked, Ghost had appeared in the far corner, his eyes lowered to the ground and not a single thought behind them before hearing the sound of Price's voice. Stopping in his tracks, he peers around the corner, not wanting to look conspicuous but also curious to see who it was the captain was speaking to, looking over to see the two of you together engaged in a conversation looking a bit too comfy.

The soldier froze, tensing at the sound of you laughing and Price……flirting? Was the man flirting with you? Ghost watched the way Price leaned in ever so slightly in your direction, a slight yet noticeable shift in his demeanor as he told you a joke, the way your cheeks swelled as you snorted, your smile hidden behind the cup held in your hands in an attempt to hold back a laugh, and the way he reached a hand out to adjust the collar of your white coat. He is not jealous he is not jealous he his not jealous. Once again, HE IS NOT JEALOUS. Looking away from the scene, he turned back around and headed back to where he came. He had no reason to feel threatened by the situation, it’s not like he felt anything towards you or if you meant anything to him. And yet, why did it irk him to see you laughing with Price like that.

That was the first he had heard you laugh, though as light and brief as it was. He could tell it wasn’t your true full-hearted laugh, the ones that left you gasping for air as tears welled up at the corner of your eyes. He had seen those laughs many times at the pub from the groups of friends that gathered together after a long day of work or when they had just left from a futbol match, times when he craved a glass of whisky. The laugh you had let out right now wasn’t one of those full chested laughs, this one was different, more timid, like fresh rain in the middle of spring, where fog blanketed and seeped through the meadows and trees, where dewdrops patterned themselves like mosaics upon the blades of grass and the petals of roses. This laugh was light and airy, crisp to his ears, and it had sent a slight shiver down the stone-hearted soldier that he had never once felt before.

He convinces himself that what he saw between the two of you was none of his concern and that who you fancy is none of his business, and yet why did he find your little interaction with Price to bother him? Better yet, why does he find himself wishing he had made you laugh instead?

It should also be mentioned that Ghost did not fulfill the task he had promised himself when he said he would throw away the Dum Dum lollipops you had given him last night, thinking your little form of bribery to be quite inane. What did you take him for, a child? Regardless of the many times he stared at those two pieces of candy with your little note next to them, your graceful and sophisticated handwriting a strange polarity to the bright and colorful wrapped candy often meant for children, curiosity had gotten the best of him, as well as midnight cravings.

And alas, with numerous stealing glances toward the lollipops and his mouth watering for just a quick sample, the man had given in. And let’s just say, he’s addicted. I mean, I was not lying when I said this man has the sweet tooth of Augustus Gloop. Also, he may or may not have snuck into your office the next morning to steal a lollipop or two, or three, before rushing out the door. So you should probably hide the those things before you walk in on an empty tray one day.

"Also, I wanted to let you know that Alejandro, Ghost, and Soap and I will be heading out on a mission later today. Gaz will be staying behind just to make sure nothing happens here while we're away." Price informs you.

"What time will you be back?"

"Not till late. If everything runs smoothly, there's no need to wait up for us."

“Geez. Will it be dangerous?” Your brows furrow at the center. You knew what their job entailed, but that didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Well that’s part of our job now innit.” Price smirks.

"Just………make sure to come back in one piece alright. I'm not trying to perform any amputations today." You scrunch your nose in a teasing manner, though your words mean more than what your voice gives away.

"Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours. We'll be back like before aye.” Price gives you a comforting smile, bringing his hand up to brush his thumb and forefinger against the bottom of your chin before dropping it back down at his side. Though the action was small and brief, an informal unveiling of the captain’s fondness towards you, that didn’t stop your face from heating up faster than a hot pocket in the microwave. You were sure one would burn their hands if they grazed your cheek.

The others had soon cluttered into the area where you were, chatting amongst themselves before turning towards you and price, the sudden group of movement causing you to clear your throat and step just the slightest inch away.

"Hey doc." The men greeted you, their faces brightening upon seeing you before glancing down at your bright crocs.

"The fuck are those?"

"Oh my god. Don't tell me you guys have never seen crocs before." You exhale, your voice coming out in a scoff.

"Why are they called crocs?" Soap questions, brows furrowed with confusion. You and me both Soap, I don't have a clue either.

"Looks like something my abuela would wear." Alejandro comments, a mischievous glint in his eyes at teasing you.

“Que te folle un pez (get fucked by a fish).”

Alejandra is stunned from the words that just came out from your lips, cocking his head back and tilting it as he looked at you with surprised amusement. He never knew you spoke Spanish. Maybe it came with being a doctor and being around people all the time. On top of that, was this the first time he had heard you curse? Was that a stroke of confidence he heard from your mouth? Was he offended? Was he turned on? He couldn’t tell.

But as Alejandro still stood there, silent against your remark, the others begin to wonder just what it was that you said that had him like this.

“Uh what’d she say?” Soap leans over to whisper to Alejandro, his eyes darting between the two of you as did the other men.

“Ahora, ¿dónde aprendiste una cosa así, eh? (Now where did you learn such a thing, huh?)” Alejandro nods his head towards you, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Conoces gente de todo tipo cuando eres médico. Y además, el idioma era parte de mi plan de estudios de todos modos. (You meet all kinds of people when you're a doctor. And besides, language was part of my curriculum anyway.)” You shrug your shoulders, taking a sip of your coffee as your eyes meet Alejandro’s dark ones over the lid of your cup.

Alejandro chuckles, pointing at you with a smirk. “Bueno, será mejor que tengas cuidado cariño. Palabras como esa pueden meterte en problemas. (Well, you'd better be careful, sweetheart. Words like that can get you in trouble.)”

“No te preocupes por mí. Soy una niña grande Me licencié y todo. (Do not worry about me. I'm a big girl. I’ve got a degree and all.)”

“What are they saying?” Soap asks again, this time to Gaz.

“How would I know?” Gaz hisses, obviously annoyed with not knowing what the two of you were conversing about. Were the two of you planning a date? Were you plotting a scheme? Were you making fun of the rest of the team? The boys definitely didn't like being left out from a conversation, especially from you.

“I didn’t know you can speak Spanish.” Soap turns to you.

“Well it seems here that our little doctora is full of surprises.” Alejandro comments, making you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

“Right.” Gaz squints at you in a jest, adding on to the men poking fun at you. “Now really doc, what the fuck is on your feet?”

"Oh screw y'all, they're comfy for my feet alright." You roll your eyes at the way they tease you about your choice of footwear, though in all honesty, you're not able to hide the smile that tugs at the ends of your lips, that is until a certain someone appears.

Ghost is the last one to show up, hoping to have avoided your presence. But when he sees you still there leaning against the counter, his eyes lock with yours before looking away as if you had never even existed in the first place.

You're almost sure he hates you, chewing on the inside of your cheek from the way he looked you over like a speck of dirt on his boot before completely ignoring your being. You have no clue why he is the way he is around you, wondering if he had seen the note you left on his door. He has to have seen it right? He’s got to. And then it hits you, at least you think. Maybe your little detail of adding the lollipops had offended him, and you’re almost terrified to think what he thought of them. On top of that, he still had never bothered to show up for his blood results. So he truly was avoiding you on purpose, wasn’t he. You wish you knew the reason behind his avoidant behavior. Did he find you disgusting? Was that a possible reason? Had you somehow at some point offended him? Were you going to end up on his hit list? Maybe. Were you going to die some mysterious death by his hands tonight? Sounds likely.

“Alright you lot. Let’s get moving.” Price gestures the men to follow him before turning back to you. “We won’t be long. Gaz, you know the rules.”

“Yessir.” Gaz nods his head before stepping over to you, looking down at you drinking your coffee with a soft smile on his face. “I’m sure this day will go by smoothly.”

“Oof. Don’t jinx it.”

You wish he had not said those last words.

You had spent most of the day relaxing as Price had suggested when the men left, their gear strapped to their forms and their guns locked and loaded. A strange scene I might add, if one were to walk into the area of the building and see a group of bulky hardened soldiers and then you, a young woman in a white coat and scrubs and her special decorated crocs along with her vintage Donald Duck watch. You almost looked out of place with the war-ridden atmosphere.

When you had stepped into your office the first time that day, you were surprised to see a slight change in your usual environment, the lack of an apple at your desk. This absence, though small and what one might call insignificant, had saddened you to a certain degree. Though at first you found the little act to be annoying, of finding the red fruit there every morning placed upon your desk, as time went by, you had grown accustomed to it a bit. So when you noticed the absence of the apple after expecting to see it just like the days before, it had lowered your spirits. Though you did not know the meaning or intention behind the gesture or the person directly involved behind it, it had come to bring you a sense of security, a slight token of someone’s watchful eye over you. Or at least that’s what you believed it to be. Little did you it was just a simple act involving the confusion of idioms.

But imagine your confusion when in place of the lack of an apple, you instead find your tray of lollipops looking a little less full than it was yesterday. Had someone broken into your office or were you just loosing your mind. And as you inspect the little tray, you're even more surprised to find a distinct black, powdery substance smeared against the side of it, right on the edge. Using your thumb, you wipe it off the side of the tray, raising your hand to further inspect the foreign substance to see that it looks a lot like eyeshadow.

"Huh. That's strange."

Ooooooo someone just got caught.

With the men gone, all except Gaz of course, you went about reading more chapters of your book, lounging about on the couch in the common area before your nerves got the better of you and you decided to do some cleaning around the area, to which Gaz had offered some help, with much eagerness in his end. Gaz of course had kept watch, letting you lead the conversations as the two of you made small talk every once in a while before going back to your little tasks, you with your paperwork and inventory of medical supplies and Gaz with his patrol.

During the moments where the two of you did talk, you began to unravel little details about each other, details mostly involving Gaz since you still preferred to keep your walls up. You called it being professional, but those who were close to you would call it a fear to let others in. Perhaps they were right. After your father’s death, you had rarely let anyone in, sometimes not even your own self. And Gaz, being the sweet soul that he was, never pressured you to reveal anything you did not want to. He wouldn’t ask about your personal life or your past unless you offered to.

The more the two of you talked, the more you learned little things about the soldier that you never knew, like his love of the ocean and how he had wanted to become a marine biologist when he was a little boy, as well as how his favorite sea creatures were, and still are, sea otters and sea turtles. He had even mentioned how his favorite movie was Nemo growing up, with Crush being his favorite character. In fact, the movie was what inspired him to study in that field in the first place. He was extremely almost embarrassed to release that bit of info to you, scared that you might pass it on to the team and that he’d never hear the end of it. When that little bit of information slipped from his tongue, he practically begged you not to tell the others. So imagine his relief when you stick your pinky out in an offer to make a pinky promise on it. You honestly find it kind of cute.

As time dragged on and when the day had become night, when the sun had long passed the horizon to lay to rest, you had grown quite weary waiting for the men to return, and oh was there a sight waiting for them to behold once they did. Your little act of cleaning around the house had drained a good amount of your energy, eventually causing you to crash out on the couch with your head resting against Gaz’s shoulder. Your legs were curled up on the cushion of the sofa, your book placed open on your lap after Gaz had asked if you could read to him, curious about the story within the binding. But the late hour combined with the cleaning around had pulled a yawn from your chest as you read the pages out loud, your voice low and muzzy and your words drawling out as your eyes scanned the printed letters before another yawn escaped your lips, and another, then another, before everything became blurry and you slowly drifted off to a deep sleep.

Even Gaz, who was supposed to stay watch, had fallen asleep beside you, his head thrown back on the back of the couch and his mouth slightly parted as soft little snores escaped it. He was never one to fall asleep on duty, known for his control over his mental fortitude. But the poor soldier had soon followed suit, infected by by your fatigue as he too yawned after each time you did. In that time, he smiled down softly as he watched you grow tired next to him, resting your head unconsciously on his shoulder and chuckling at the sight of the thin line of drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth.

He almost felt relieved, and comforted to see this side of you, after having seen you do nothing but shove your nose into paperwork and files on top of staying on guard to take care of them and make sure no serious injury happens on your watch. And as he watched you, making sure to stay as still as possible as to not wake you, your soft breathing and the warmth radiating off your body had finally pulled him in, until eventually, his state of alertness fell limp, his head rolling back as he too drifted off shortly after you.

You don’t know long you had been asleep, nor did you know you had your face smushed up against Gaz’s shoulder, your lips parted slightly and your drool pooling into a wet spot on the fabric of his jacket. If you did, you don’t think you’d be able to look him in the eye from how embarrassed you’d be. Not only did you most likely cause his arm to cramp up and fall asleep under your weight, but you had also marked his shoulder with your saliva. And if the others were to see this, they would have a kick out of it, with Soap taking multiple pictures at unflattering angles and teasing the two of you for the days to follow. And in a short matter of time, they would have seen it, stumbling upon the scene if they had not burst through the front door like a team of SWAT.

The sound of the door slamming open and their shouts had startled you awake, their voices echoing through the front of the building and making you sit up in your seat.

“What the-“ you mutter out groggily, squinting against the dryness of your eyes and not even paying mind to how you had completely crashed out. Where they back?

“Sounds like trouble.” Gaz had also woken up next to you, quickly getting up from the sofa and rushing towards the commotion as you followed closely behind.

You almost froze at the scene, watching the men come into the area with their faces worn out and beaded with sweat and spots of blood. You knew what they were getting into, what their job required of them, yet seeing them return from the mission first hand had in some way unsettled you. Sure, you had worked in the ER during your residency. You had seen conditions far worse than this, patients suffering from injuries ranging of a varying degree as they were wheeled around, gruesome wounds that still at times scarred your memories till this day. And yet, why did this seem to daunt you far worse than anything you had seen in the emergency department. It's almost as if you forgot these men were killers, and you didn't quite know how to feel about that.

Alejandro had been the first to step into the area, carrying an injured Soap under his arm and helping the Scot walk next to him as he muttered some words of encouragement in Spanish.

“What-what happened?”

“Nada serio querida. No te preocupes. (Nothing serious love. Don't worry.)” Alejandro answers simply, groaning under Soap's weight and from his own injuries.

“Nada serio querida.” Soap copies what Alejandro had said with a limp in each of his steps, his face pale from the loss of blood from his wound as he gives you a smile to assure you that everything was in fact fine, though we all know this isn’t the case.

“Well it sure as damn well looks serious to me Alejandro.” You remark as you hurry over to help the man set Soap down carefully on a chair, your voice slipping the hint of your father’s accent, a small habit that revealed itself whenever you got upset over something. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to tread carefully around me, I'm not made of glass you know."

Alejandro fell quiet as he watched you try to examine Soap, taken aback by this more....authoritative side of you, not that he had any reason to be surprised, you were a physician after all and this sort of conduct was necessary especially since people's lives were in your hands. He had not intended to alarm or offend you, the reason why he said those words in the first place, but the situation itself had managed to speak much louder than his words could ever manage. And in this moment, maybe it's best to let you be in charge.

Your eyes scattered about the area as the others soon came through, focusing on each and every one of them to try to gauge both their mental and physical state. Ghost was the next to enter right after Price, his blackened eyes from behind his mask meeting your concerned ones for a brief and fleeting moment before looking away. The skull-masked soldier was supporting another man, another masked soldier you had not seen before, one whose stature towered over everyone around him, even Simon Riley himself, whom you have thought to be tall enough already. Y'all already know who it is.

“Sir-“ you spoke up to the troubled-looking captain as he walked up to you, your eyes studying the wounded and bloodied scene behind him. You don't know what the hell happened back there, but you didn't need to hear the details to know it wasn't good. “Is everything alright? The hell happened?”

“Y/n.” Price finally stood in front of you, his hand placed on your shoulder as means of reassurance, or even a way to steady his exhausted body as he turned back to his men, running his fingers through his beard before looking you in the eye. “We were ambushed. Suffered a few injuries but we got the most of em.”

“You sure? Y’all look like you took quite the beating.” You state lightheartedly but more so from a place of worry and sympathy. “Listen Captain, if you don't mind, I need to take a look at these men."

“Right. Right.” Price nods his head, breathless from the mission. His countenance was masked behind an aura of composure as he looked over his injured soldiers, but one look at his eyes told you otherwise. He was tense, nonetheless, and you could clearly see the restlessness behind them from the way he held responsibility over the lives of his men, believing himself to be accountable if any harm should come to them.

“Do you have any wounds I need to take a look at sir? Any trauma to the head? Any lacerations or punctures?"

“No. No, I’m fine.”

"It'll be alright." You give the man a comforting smile, placing a hand on his arm to provide the only means of consolation you can give him in a moment like this.

“Thank you.” Price returns your smile, placing his hand over yours and giving it a soft squeeze. Though he felt contrite for throwing such a burden on your shoulders, he knew that you were the only person qualified enough around here given the circumstances, and he could not be more grateful for your presence. "Just....let me know if you need any help."

"Of course."

The men were badly beaten from what you observed as you examined them. A few fresh bruises marked their bodies, nothing terribly serious, but Soap, Alejandro, and the new guy were the only ones who had sustained more serious injuries. MacTavish had taken a bullet to the thigh, but luckily for him, the bullet had missed his femoral artery as well as any major nerves in the area. The poor Scotsman had felt bad for disturbing you at such a late hour such as this. But you had reassured him time and time again that this was part of your job, and that you had read over the part of the contract that said you would mostly be on-call when you signed your name at the bottom.

Soap doesn't know why he was so on edge as you operated on him. He’s nervous, extremely nervous. And what does Soap do when he’s nervous? He talks, like a lot, like a lot a lot and I don’t mean that lightly. I mean this man just talks your ear off while you’re wiping away any excess blood on his thigh and practically knuckles deep into his bullet wound. This man had been shot before so why should this be any different. Was it the local anesthetic you had injected into him? Or was it because you were a practicing physician and therefore would be able to pinpoint the finer details and eventually break some kind of devastating news to him like "I hate to break this to you Soap but I'm afraid I'm going to need to perform an amputation." Also I genuinely believe this man is afraid of needles. Don't ask me how I know. I just know.

"Y/n." Soap speaks up, gulping from the question that is about to spill from his lips as he watches you disinfect his wound.

"Hm?" You hum, focused on cleaning the area where the bullet had lodged itself.

"Am I gonna loose my leg?"

"What?" You stop, raising your head to give him a weird look. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Don' know. Ye look pretty serious..........................ya sure I'm not gonna loose my leg?" He asks again, the panic in his voice more evident this time as an image is generated in his mind of him having a wooden pegleg like some kind of pirate.

"No. No you're not going to loose your leg Soap. You're just fine.” You go back to mending his bullet wound. “If anything, you're just going to get a few stitches. I am going to have to leave the bullet in place though, so don’t fret.”

"Yer leavin the bullet in there?" Soap's face pales after hearing your statement, eyes wide as he stares at you like you’re some kind of lunatic.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can feel you staring at me like I’m crazy. The reason I’m leaving the bullet in your leg is because it’s not in a fatal area that needs removal, and it's going to do more damage than good if I take it out. And besides, your body will build a sort of......wall of scar tissue around it so you'll be fine.” You try to explain to him in a way he can understand.

“I will?”

"I promise. Now once I’m done here I'm going to prescribe you some antibiotics and pain relievers as well as an ointment to help with the healing process and keeping away infections. Just make sure to get some rest and go easy on that leg of yours and you'll be up and running in no time."

"Oh.....okay."

Poor Soap is still nervous, despite your words of consolation. So in order to ease the tension he decides to crack a few jokes, a trait that has become familiar with his teammates, much to their annoyance, whenever he's out on the field. Whether it's for his own welfare or yours, we may never know. Perhaps it’s for both, but let's just say it’s more so for his own sanity. And the way he jumps from one joke to another only makes you question how the previous medics ever sat through it.

"Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon?"

"No."

"Great food. No atmosphere."

"Jesus."

"..............Hey y/n."

"Yes Soap?" You’re pretty sure this is the 45th joke he’s told you so far and now you’re just concerned for his mental well-being. But you also want to know where the hell he got all of these jokes in the first place.

"Why do seagulls fly over the ocean?"

Oh god. "Why?" You ask, bracing yourself for whatever was about to come next.

"Because if they flew over the bay, we'd call them bagels."

Jesus fucking christ. At this point you're positive your eyes are going to pop out from your sockets from how hard you are trying to stop yourself from rolling them. "Soap-"

"Yeah?"

"Please hold still."

Alejandro on the other hand was especially quiet while you tended to his wound, a gash on the proximal part of his arm on the lateral end, just below the acromial region, left from the bullet that grazed it. If he did speak, it would be small little words of motivation, sprinkled with terms of endearment in Spanish as he told you how good of a job you were doing, which you thought to be a risky thing to do considering you were sticking a needle in his flesh to sew his wound shut. He'd even tell you short little stories about his life before here, some of which may have elicited a soft chuckle from your frowning lips, a stern look that always unconsciously formed on your face whenever you were focused on something. He finds your little look of concentration quite cute honestly, the way you'd sometimes pout and squint your eyes. But most of all, he admired how calm and collected you were at such a task, as if you were doing something as simple as stitching the seams of fabric together.

He tried his best to soothe you, seeing the strained look on your face and imagining the stress you must be under, knowing when it would be best to offer you silence so that you may focus on the work at hand. And when you were done suturing his wound and wrapping fresh gauze around his arm, he pulls you in to give you a warm hug, which catches you off guard since you’re still wearing nitrile surgical gloves spotted with his blood and practically reek of alcohol-based solutions and the bleach-like scent of antiseptics. Regardless of how you look and smell like chemicals, the man only pulls you in tighter, wrapping his uninjured arm around the top of your back with his hand squeezing the back of your shoulder as he thanks you in his native tongue.

The two of you stand there for a moment in this sort of half-embrace, Alejandro with just a single arm around you and you with your hands held out behind him with your face pressed up against his chest. Next thing you know he presses a kiss to the side of your head, which takes you even more by surprise. This man really does not care how you look or smell. You could be covered in saline solution and antibiotic ointment and he’d still think you were the most stunning woman to walk the earth.

Also, speaking of smell, Alejandro smells really good, despite the hint of gunpowder from the mission he just returned from. But to say you are obsessed with his cologne is an understatement. This man smells AMAZING. His scent is woodsy, and spicy, like tequila mixed in with cardamom and bergamot, with sharp hints of clove and peppers balancing over velvety floral notes. He smells like something out one of those cheesy racy romance novels where the romantic interest climbs up your balcony during a hot summer night to hand you a single rose before whisking you away under the stars for a night of passionate-cough cough-you know what I mean. It's almost sinful, erotic, luring you in to perform acts that would make Satan and the Pope seek counsel with each other. This sudden emotion causes this stir in the pit of your stomach, lighting your whole body in flames and you almost feel ashamed for wanting him to stay a while longer just so you can get another and longer whiff of him.

“You know chica, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a really good machaca." Alejandro pulls away from the embrace, looking down at you with a slight smirk.

“Why don’t you go get one?”

“Only if you agree to come along.”

You’re stunned, caught off guard, and you better come quick with a witty response or else you’re just going to look like a fool standing there blinking at him. "Are you asking me out on a date Vargas?" Wow. I haven’t heard that one before.

"Mm, maybe. There'll be good food."

Speak no more. I am bringing the church and a marriage license. “You know, now that you've mentioned it, I suppose I have been craving some spicy food for a while."

The new guy, who’s name you found to be König, was surprisingly polite, despite his intimidating size and aura. He was a bit reserved around you at first, the blues of his eyes from behind the loose fabric of his mask studying your features to try to get a sense of your character as a person. He had heard quite a lot about you from the others, mostly the way you were gentle and kind in nature. Yet he had trouble understanding how a person could be capable of providing peace, as the others explained it, but one word from your lips and a benevolent smile in his direction was enough to convince him.

Telling from his body language, you made sure to inform him about every measure you were going to perform for the procedure, wanting to ensure he was as relaxed as possible with what you were doing, something you took seriously with every one of the patients you ever had. And the more you spoke, asking him simple questions like beginning with his name and asking where he was from and what his hometown was like and how he was currently feeling, he eventually warmed up to you, partly because he thought you were really pretty, but also because you made him feel comfortable in a place he usually did not find comfort in. I mean this man is still a killing machine despite his social anxiety. Not to mention, this was the first time he had met you. So the fact that you look out for his own wellness first really puts him at ease.

The tall Austrian had suffered a gunshot wound to his abdomen, an area that would usually require more serious care. But thanks to his bulletproof vest, the bullet was prevented from puncturing any organs or cavities or any major blood vessels or nerves, passing through his layers of skin and reaching the adipose tissue and barely imbedding into the muscle of his abdomen. You of course were able to extract the piece of metal, injecting some anesthetic for the pain and disinfecting the area beforehand before using a pair of forceps to carefully pull the bullet out.

Though the man was slightly anxious around you, he didn’t want to pry to much on your behalf and end up offending you in any manner, especially with how quiet you were, minus the little questions you’d ask him of course. Instead, he is fascinated by your steady hands and your precision, wondering how hands as small and delicate as yours were capable of performing such complex labor as he asks questions about every step that you take into the procedure and every tool that you have laid out on your table. By the end, he is completely starstruck by just how much you know. He even may have slipped a little compliment on how wise and pretty your eyes were. You’ve never heard anyone compliment your eyes as being wise, but you like it, not being able to hold back the small smile that pulls at the corner of your lips.

“Thank you for your help……..liebling.”

“It’s no problem.” You smile. You had heard that German term once before, a word once exchanged between an elderly couple that were once under your care. And the fact of knowing the meaning behind it warms your heart.

“Du hast sehr schöne kluge augen. (You have very beautiful, intelligent eyes)." The soldier mutters under his breath, nearly catching himself at the end of the sentence and praying you had not heard nor understood what he said.

“Sorry?”

“Oh um…….." König gulps, thinking of how to respond and deciding whether he should just lie or tell the truth to behind the meaning of his words. "It means you have really pretty wise eyes.”

“Oh……..why thank you. That's really sweet."

After handing König a bag containing his antibiotics, pain killers, and a tube of ointment, you also hand him a couple Dum-Dum lollipops to go with it. The Austrian doesn’t know how to react at first. Did you just give him a candy? Was this a common practice of doctors in your country? When he finally realizes this was just your way of showing kindness, he is more than delighted and thanks you for them in German, grasping both of your hands as he does so. Don’t ask me why or how but I just feel like he likes to hold both of your hands whenever he thanks you for something. Also the more eager he is, the more he shakes your hands in his.

This man’s crush on you has just went to the next level. König likes to collect whatever catches his attention, something he had done since he was a child from time mostly spent by himself. And it’s almost as if he has an eye for these things, picking out whatever has unique colors or patterns. So when you find some wildflowers or interesting looking leaves or a variety of colorful bird feathers or butterfly wings that had fallen to the dirt on your desk one day, just know he picked them out for you whenever he goes on a mission.

Believe it or not, the Austrian also has a secret talent of wood carving and is actually very skilled at it. During the days where his anxiety seems to overwhelm and suffocate him, he likes to sit outside in the grass surrounded by nature, covered in wood shavings with a knife in hand as he makes little wooden figurines of animals that he sees, whether it be birds, deer, foxes, bunnies, squirrels or skunks. It’s the only thing that he can fixate on that brings him total serenity and nirvana, sitting amongst the grass with his back up against the trunk of a tree, where there isn’t a single soul in sight except for himself and the ones that belong in the woods, where the only things that can judge him are the tall ancient trees and the creatures that walk it. But I won’t get further into this till later. Just know that he’s working on one especially for you.

Now, moving on.

By the time you were finished patching the three men up, you cleaned up the area and your tools, taking off your bloody gloves and throwing them into the biohazard container until you see Ghost stumble by in the corner of your eye. Little did you know he had been watching you from afar, not in a creepy way but in a ‘just want to make sure my teammates are alright’ kind of way. Not that he doubts your expertise of course. The lieutenant had not expected the mission to go sideways as it did, even though it was somewhat accomplished in the end. And seeing his team get wounded had unlocked this new fear in him that, to some degree, had always been there.

So when he stood there in the corner, leaning against the wall and hidden in the shadows like typical old Ghost, he found a sense of relief in watching how quickly and proficiently you moved about and just how composed you were, especially under the pace and pressure. Maybe it’s how quiet you are when you get really focused on something, maybe it’s how calm you are throughout it, or maybe it’s the amount of caution and supervision you take towards making sure the others are treated with the utmost care. Truth be told, you are like a remedy to Ghost, to the Simon Riley underneath, to the troubles and trauma that mold the broken man beneath the mask. If only the big dummy were to realize this instead of treating you like as if you were the plague itself.

When you lift your head towards the sound of slight shuffling in the corner, you catch him moving out of the shadows and sneaking away from the area. Usually you wouldn’t think anything of it, thinking he was just overseeing your work like a supervisor. But as you watch him walk off, you notice that something is off about him, something not quite right, and this intuition only builds this deep and heavy bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“Ghost?”

Ghost stops abruptly at the sound of your voice, his head ever so slightly tilted to the side as he was not expecting you to have seen him, much less even say something.

“Is everything alright?”

Goddamn you and your manners. The masked soldier moves away with the slightest huff, not wanting to answer your question but you call out once more.

“You’re not hurt are you?”

“Negative.” He begins to walk off, not even looking in your direction to acknowledge you.

“Lieutenant, could I please see you for a minute?”

“Another time.”

“I insist.” Your voice is more firm this time and it catches him by surprise.

He had not heard this tone from you before, and yet, he can sense the shakiness behind it, the uncertainty. The more there is silence on his end, the more you are sure that you have reached the expiration date of your life, terrified that you had officially provoked the stone-cold soldier and that he is about to march over here and stab you in the neck with your own scalpel any second now. And as he stands there, debating on whether he should just leave, he hears your voice once again, a faint ‘please’. Heaving out a heavy sigh, the man shuts his eyes for a brief moment before turning back around and heading in your direction.

You’re not sure if you should freeze up like the fresh-caught fish on a bed of ice at the supermarket or run in the opposite direction as this man walks towards you, his mask not helping in making him look any less more pissed off than usual. When he finally stands in front of you, his bulky form towering over yours, you can only do the first thing that comes to mind, freeze up. At first the masked soldier glares down at you, the irises of his eyes only darkened by the grooves of his mask as he waits for you to speak, wishing you were the first to say something, anything, but instead you’re staring at him like a deer caught in front of headlights. Don’t worry babes, I would too.

“Well? Whadya want?”

“I just want to check to make sure you’re not injured-“

“I feel fine.” Ghost narrows his eyes at you, slowly becoming irked by your constant need to monitor his well-being and wishing you would just take his word and leave. But he knows better than to argue with someone that was literally tasked by the government to manage the sanity and wellness of task force 141. Was your etiquette a part of the job requirements as well?

“You don’t look fine.” You snark.

“Yeh?” Ghost sneers. “And who the hell are you to say that?”

“I’m a doctor.” You blink. “Or if you wanna be more specific, I'm technically your doctor. It’s my job. And telling from the dampness of the blood on your mask there that still has not dried since the moment you stepped trough the doors and god knows how long since before,” you point to the area near the bottom of the left side of his neck, more so near his shoulder. “I’m guessing it’s yours and not someone else’s.”

“The fuck are you on about? Listen here princess, there’s no-“ Ghost pulls his hand up to his neck only to feel the exact same dampness you had just mentioned. Fuck. He had been so caught up with everything around him that he had not even been aware that he had been injured. When he finally pressed his fingers to the area there, tensing from the pain, that was when he was finally able to register through that thick and stubborn skull of his that he had in fact been injured this whole time. This man probably takes the phrase ‘mind over matter’ quite literally.

“Now can I please take a look at you?” You quirk a brow up at him, waiting for a response and knowing better than to expect a quick answer. But if there’s one thing you know, if you just slightly annoy and pester him enough, he might just eventually cave in, that is if he doesn't add you to his hit list. “Look, if you wait any longer you might pass out and go into hemorrhagic shock. And depending on the class, you can suffer from organ damage and even death. So unless you want that to happen-“

Well when you put it like that- “Fine. Get on with it.” Ghost growls as he sits himself down on the chair. Bloody fucking hell you talk way more than he had ever expected from you. But you sure can keep your ground, he'll give you that. He’s just glad that none of the others are here to see him being bossed around by someone almost half his size and about a foot shorter than him.

"Thank you for cooperating." You give a short and quick smile. You may or may not have exaggerated about the last part to get him to comply. Well…….that is.........depending on the exact location of injury and the amount of blood loss of course.

Thank you for cooperating. Ghost scoffs at your statement.

“You know……I wish you wouldn’t avoid me like I were a crackhead outside your local 7-eleven.”

A what? Ghost gives you a weird look, wondering if he had heard you correctly as you go over to the sink, rolling the white sleeves of your lab coat up and turning on the faucet. The shit that comes out of your mouth, he swears makes him question your license. Then again, he’s not sure how to respond to what you had just said. It's no lie that he has indeed been going out of his way to avoid you at all costs. But the idea of you even noticing his absence had never even crossed his mind, much so that you would come to be offended by it. Noticing your lack of pressing further on the matter, he shifts in his seat, watching you wash your hands in a methodical series of steps until he notices a small marking on your inner right wrist, a small and delicate tattoo of a heartagram. It can't be.......can it? He had never listened to much of their music but.......were you a HIM fan? If so, this is certainly a detail he had never expected from you and he almost doesn't know what to think of it. What other tattoos do you have?

Once he sees you turn off the faucet, he quickly returns to his original position on the chair, not wanting to make it seem like he was watching you.

"Now I’m just going to take a quick look here." You head over to where he sat, pulling the nitrile gloves over your hands as you look down at him, reaching out towards the bottom of his balaclava before feeling him swat your hand away.

“Hey!” You yelp, more so from being startled than the actual impact. “The hell was that for?” No way in hell he just did that.

“…………….”

"I promise I won't sneak a peak at your face if that's what you're afraid of."

“……………………..”

“Listen lieutenant. I can’t check to see if you’re okay if you won’t let me.” You sigh, reaching out once more, but this time you feel his hand grab yours, his gloved fingers wrapping around the bare skin of your wrist as he eyes the ground at his feet. The loud beating in your chest reaches your ears, deafening you as you stare at the soldier who could practically fracture your wrist if he tightened his grip. At this point most would be petrified, bracing themselves for the number of possibilities that can take place just from under his control. Most would either try not to glance over at the scalpel that lays out on the table just beside within arms reach, not wanting to instigate anything further in fear of the soldier catching the movement of their eyes, or some would dare to do so anyways as part of their fight or flight response.

Maybe you should be scared of him, of this soldier who has more blood on his hands than you can count. And yet, somehow, as you finally regain control of your thoughts after being startled from the sudden motion, you can’t seem to find yourself to. If he wanted to kill you, you’d already have been dead, you tell yourself, because here you are, well and unharmed. Despite the calloused disposition of the man notorious for his ruthlessness and merciless on the field and just the sheer size of his hand around your wrist, you’re surprised at the gentleness he handles you with, the carefulness of his hold a stark contrast to the rough fabric of his gloves that rub against the sensitive skin there.

Ghost can feel you tremble ever so slightly under his grasp, feeling your racing pulse through his gloves from under his palm, not to mention the peculiar coldness of your limb, but he can also feel the severity behind your eyes as you stare him down, as if you were just waiting for him to meet them. For a flicker of a moment, you have him wondering just how much more there is to you than the Dr. Y/n y/l/n that you put on stage only for others to see. Just what else lies beyond the pristine white lab coat, those neatly pressed scrubs and your observant orbs.

“Ghost-“ Your voice is firm but heedful. “Please let go of my wri-“

"I'll do it."

“What-“

“I said I’ll do it. You’re not touching the mask.”

“Alrigh-”

“I mean it.” He lets go of your wrist as quickly as he grabbed it.

"Okay." You throw your hands up in defeat, taking a step back to give him some room. "Fine by me."

Ghost can't help but huff at your behavior, hesitating for a moment before finally lifting the bottom of his balaclava, peeling away the fabric that had become sticky with blood to expose his neck. Damn you.

"Let's see here." You lean in closer to inspect the area before cursing under your breath. “Jesus fucking christ.”

Ghost side-eyes you with a raised brow at the words that came out of your mouth. Did he just hear you cuss? Better yet, just what the hell did you see to make you say those words. You almost don’t even have to hear him say anything to know what he is thinking.

“See this is why it’s important you come to me.” There’s that same strictness in your voice, and yet, this one is different. Is that a slight hint of genuine concern he hears? Realizing how you might have sounded to a man who has probably dealt with far worse, you straighten up, clearing your throat as you did so and fluttering your eyes away from his forbidding gaze. Pushing away whatever emotions that managed to rile you up like that, you clear your throat once more. “So, looks like there’s a laceration, along the inferior portion of your neck here, proximal to your acromial region. But lucky for you, your brachial plexus is still intact. The bullet, or whatever the hell you've been hit by, narrowly missed your suprascapular artery and nerve. Though I will have to perform some sutures to reconstruct your trapezius muscle."

"English, for fucks sake." Ghost grumbles at your rapid speech involving words he finds incoherent. But you and I both know it’s only because he finds it to be a turn on. That's why he let you ramble on in the first place.

"What I meant was, good news is, your nerves and blood vessels are okay. Bad news is, your trapezius muscle, which is the muscle that runs along the curve of your neck here and a portion of your back has a slight gash here at the top. So you are going to need stitches. And a lot of rest afterwards of course, to make sure it's properly healed."

"Fuckin hell." Ghost mutters under his breath.

"Now if you'll let me-"

"Yeh yeh. Just make it quick."

What had been a short amount of time had instead felt like hours for the masked soldier, for Ghost, for the wounded Simon Riley beneath all those layers as he remained in his seat like a statue, ensuring that he stayed as still as possible while you worked on him. He had not uttered a single word during the whole duration, not even the slightest grunt. And if it hadn't been for his steady breathing, you would have presumed him to be dead. He had to be the quietest patient you have ever dealt with, not to mention the most stubborn, and you found yourself wishing he would say something, anything. But to expect such from a man such as him would be a fool's errand, a fruitless endeavor.

And even if he chose to speak, what the hell would he even talk about? His fucking trauma?The man wouldn't even look at you, his eyes wandering everywhere but your face. In spite of his grievances towards you, his reluctance to ever establish any form of association with you, he'd find himself slowly stealing glances in your direction from time to time when you weren't looking directly at him. He'd find himself studying your features as he once did the first time he met you. You were wearing that same perfume, that deep woodsy and floral perfume that reminded him of an old bookstore, of one of those metaphysical shops scattered with different fragrances of the smokey incense, the unmistakable scent of you that had been ingrained in his mind ever since.

"So, what kind of a name is Ghost anyways?"

".................."

"Right. I forget you don't speak."

Ghost gives you a quick and sharp glare before staring straight ahead. Damn that sharp tongue of yours.

"You seem tired." You remark, picking on him just a tad bit to make a reference to when he commented on your dark circles, but also because he actually did genuinely seem tired.

"............."

A cock-up, no thanks to you, Ghost thinks to himself, knowing damn well the only reason he could not sleep was because of you, though he senses the only reason you said that was because he had mentioned to you how you looked tired.

More minutes pass, and he has yet to even snide at you. You'd almost prefer a huff of irritation directed at you over nothing.

"You know," you utter, "I went to medical school with an incredibly ambitious guy who was obsessed with collecting skulls. He'd do anything to get a head."

You what? Ghost looks at you just the slightest with a single blink. What the bloody fuck are you talking about? Oh wait.

“What is a sleeping brain’s favorite rock band?”

“……………….”

Oh no. It looks like Soap’s habit has taken hold of you.

“REM.”

“……………….”

Okay maybe that was a bad idea. The look that Ghost just gave you makes you want to never say another joke again. He actually thinks the first one wasn't too bad.

“You know, you’re lucky the bullet grazed you where it did.” You lean in a bit closer as you suture his wound. “Any more to the left and you would’ve have been in some serious shit.”

Your little movement manages to catch Ghost’s attention, and if you weren’t shoving a needle through his flesh he would have moved away. Instead he glances just the slightest over in your direction, his breath hitching in his throat at the close proximity between you both. His eyes trace over the details of your face as if he were studying a map, going over every one of the little characteristics that make you you. If only you could see the way he looked at you, you would have been able to see the subtlest change, the tiniest, sliver of a crack in the hardened shell that surrounded Simon Riley, of that shell that is Ghost.

There is a moment when your thigh brushes against the side of his as you turn away to move on to the next step after stitching his wound, a moment that goes by unnoticed to you, but not to him. The small contact, though brief, had managed to send a jolt of warmth through the soldier’s body, a feeling that is completely foreign to him, prompting him to tense up and bury whatever it is that has him reacting this way. It isn’t until you sense him shift beside you that you turn back to him, gauze and ointment in hand just as you catch him transfer his line of focus somewhere else. The faint alter of movement had you raising your brow, knowing well what you saw but unsure of the motive behind it.

While you went over to him, studying whatever you could gather from his body language and just his eyes due to the obstruction of his face, you noticed that his eyes were quite expressive for a man known for lacking any basic human emotion. While dressing his wound, you picked out the way his blonde lashes fluttered against his deep mahogany irises as they focused on anything but you, the black color smeared around the exposed area of his balaclava accentuating the blondes of his hairs. This had to be the first time you had actually taken a good look at him.

You would have complimented him on his eyes and lashes, but you thought against it, not wanting to embarrass yourself, or more importantly, the last thing you needed was to dig yourself deeper on his bad side and end up as a dusty file to be brushed under the rug. Speaking of. Now that you mention it, the stuff he wore around his eyes looked awfully similar to the stuff you found on your candy tray. Couldn’t be him could it? No, it can’t possibly be. The man avoids you way too much to even think about taking something that is even associated with you. Maybe you’re just overthinking like you always do and what you found was just from your own eyeshadow palette. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve accidentally smeared remnants of eyeshadow from your fingers to other things. If only you could ask him, but this man hates you enough as it is. You could casually bring it up one day, although now definitely isn’t the time.

When you were finally finished tending to him, getting up to gather some pain relievers, antibiotics, and some ointment for him to take with him, Ghost had noticed something that he had not spotted before, a small pitted and circular mark that sat at the left side of your neck. As he stared at it, trying to decipher just what it could be, it looked to be a scar of some sort, though a bit faded with time, it’s shade slightly darker than your skin tone. Where had he seen a mark like that before? And then it hit him.

“There you go.” You came back around to hand him his treatments in a brown paper bag, your voice causing him to quickly avert his gaze. “You’re all set.”

Taking the brown paper bag from your hands, Ghost couldn’t stop thinking about what it is that he saw marking the skin of your neck. Something in the back of his mind knew just exactly what that scar belonged to, what it meant. But Ghost, or Simon Riley, knew better than to delve into something that wasn’t his business, knowing well the cost. He could just be over-analyzing it all, mistaking it for something completely different. But why was he even bothering to do so in the first place. He had better things to do, duties that were assigned specifically to him, and trying to figure out that mark on your neck wasn’t one of them.

Ghost is quick to get up from his seat as he ushers you a quick thanks, the hardened wall once again building up to the masked soldier who had dared to even let it down just the slightest around you.

“Ghost wait.” You call out to him as he walks away, watching him stop in his tracks. “……before you go………next time you’re injured………promise you’ll at least come to me.”

“….I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Look,” you sigh, “I get it if you think I’m annoying……..or if you hate my guts, whatever, I don’t care. Just….at least let me help you.”

“Don' bother.” Ghost tightens his jaw as he tilts his head towards you, the brusque in his deep voice evident before he regains his steps, disappearing from your line of sight.

“What an asshole.” You breathe out with a shake of your head. You swear this man has you testing your Hippocratic Oath. You don’t know what it is that makes him despise you. Maybe it’s just him and that’s just the way he is, something you might have to ask the others about. Usually words like that would have you lying in bed awake thinking what you did wrong, but you are much too tired for that.

As Ghost went back to his room, shutting the door behind him, he opened up the paper bag you had given him, spilling out the pill bottles and ointment tube onto the table until he heard something roll off the edge of the table and fall onto the floor. Furrowing his brows, the soldier looked at the ground at his feet to where the mysterious item had fallen only to see a single Dum-Dum lollipop, sour apple flavor. Bloody fuckin hell.

Part 4

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[stellar-constellations]

Star Patient: Chapter 3 (ONGOING SLOW BURN SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), and possibly more.

Inaccurate canon-timeline (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 8,650 words (a big chapter since the next chapter will take some time to complete).

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, current chapter, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 + 6 (in the works)

Andrew’s brain surgery to drain the excessive blood was a success! Andrew felt loopy from all the twilight anesthesia they injected into him so he was asleep during the surgery, but he’s no longer suffering from double-vision, maybe soon he can start remembering things again.

        Andrew locked his wheelchair in place and refused to move from the hallway. He was dead set on waiting for (Y/N). Any nurse or doctor that tried to come near him to bring him back to his room (or get him out of the way) would be slapped away and assaulted with the most vile curse words that would make a nun have a heart attack. Whenever Andrew heard footsteps coming, he’d look over, eyes sparkling in excitement, before dropping once noticing it wasn’t in fact (Y/N).

        Another set of footsteps could be heard walking down the hallway. Andrew looked over and resisted the urge to smile or seem excited that she came.

        “Hi, Andrew! Sorry I’m late. I was watching the infants until the NNP came back.” (Y/N) explained.

        God, he loved how she said his name. Did it have to do with how damn cute she was, or was her voice really just that enchanting?

        “How do you feel? Tired? Dizzy? Loopy? Hungry? Thirsty?” she questioned, bombarding him with questions.

        “Mm.” Andrew shrugged his shoulders, resisting the urge to wince, but failing.

        “Oh, does your head hurt?" (Y/N) questioned. "Oh, well obviously it must! You had surgery!” she commented, realizing how stupid her question was.

        “It just hurts a bit…” Andrew muttered.

        “Let’s get you back to your room, then I’ll give you some painkillers.” She spoke.

        Andrew unlocked his wheelchair and started rolling away without (Y/N)’s help, stopping in front of her with a pointed stare glare as if to say “are we leaving yet?”

        “Oh! You got the hang of it. Good job, Andrew!” (Y/N) praised, causing him to advert his eyes and huff.

        “It’s not a big deal… It's a pretty easy thing to learn.” Andrew explained, ignoring how his heartbeat increased.

        “Aw, don’t be like that. You did it all on your own in only a few minutes, and you learned how to turn the wheel! That’s impressive!” (Y/N) smiled, only causing Andrew’s face to get more red.

        “Are you done?” Andrew huffed.

        “Okay, okay. Let’s get going.” She chuckled. “Follow me.” 

        Andrew didn’t exactly trust her sense of direction, especially considering earlier’s wild goose chase, but Andrew didn’t mind getting lost with her—it meant he got to spend a little extra time with her.

        “Before we go to your room, do you mind if I make a quick stop to a friend?” she questioned as they entered the elevator together.

        A friend? Andrew thought, a sore and red hot bubble starting to simmer in his chest. Who the hell is it?

        “Her name is Hailey. She has cancer so please be nice to her. She doesn’t have many visitors anymore so maybe you two could be friends!” (Y/N) cheered, excited at the possibility of the two of them getting along as she pressed the second floor button.

        At least it’s a girl. Andrew thought, the bubble of jealousy losing its fire-like temperature, but still having a bit of flame to it. 

        They exited the elevator when the doors opened and strolled down the hallway, (Y/N) stopping at a door and knocking on it.

        “Come in.” A girl, Hailey, spoke.

        She opened the door, keeping it open for Andrew to wheel his way in before she shut the door behind them.

        “Hey, Hails. I have a friend of mine I’d like you to meet. He might have a grumpy face, but he’s nice when you get to know him.” (Y/N) teased.

        Andrew shot her an unimpressed glare as he looked at her, before redirecting his attention to Hailey.

        “Hi…” he muttered, not quite interested in the conversation.

        “Hello…” she whispered shyly.

        With how long it’s been since she’s socialized with anyone except the nurses, she’s most likely insecure of her appearance. This is a good opportunity for her to re-learn how to make friends and have confidence, and now Andrew has someone he can visit and talk to when I’m off of work. She thought to herself.

        “Andrew, this is Hailey. Hailey, this is Andrew. I hope you both can be good friends.” (Y/N) introduced, a smile on her face. 

        Fat chance. Andrew thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

        They both stared at each other awkwardly before (Y/N) spoke up.

        “So, Hailey. How is the book so far?” she questioned.

        “I’m interested in it. I don’t understand why Nora wants to die though.” Hailey spoke.

        “Oh, I see.” She nodded. “This is one of my favorite books to recommend. After reading it, it really makes you look at life in a different perspective. Nora wants to die because she lacks happiness, or fulfillment, in her life. She hasn’t found a motive in her life to carry on because she’s so caught up in her own burdens and feelings.”

        “But why is she sad? She gets to go outside and live.” Hailey questioned, genuinely confused.

        Nora has what Hailey doesn’t, and Nora’s taking it for granted. (Y/N) thought to herself, understanding what Hailey means.

        “Do you want a simple definition or the long one? Like, science or no science.” (Y/N) questioned, taking a seat on Hailey's bedside Andrew silently huffing and glaring as she did so.

        “No science.” Hailey smiled.

        Hailey prefers subjects that are sugarcoated, they’re much easier to understand. She is ten, so (Y/N) supposes that's understandable.

        “Well, Nora is missing something in her life, but she doesn’t know what it is yet. Everyone is made differently. She is sad because she doesn't have anymore passions in her life because she never stuck to pursuing them, and she felt like she couldn’t confide in anyone.” (Y/N) explained. "Humans are social creatures, we need communication and care from others in order to functional normally. Nora doesn't have that, or at least, she has very little of it."

        “So Nora wants to die because she doesn’t know what she’s missing and she's alone?” Hailey questioned.

        “In a way, yeah.” (Y/N) nodded. “Because she’s so sad, she’s not even trying to live the life she was given. When people are as sad as Nora, they don’t eat or shower or take care of themselves because it all feels meaningless.” 

        Why does that sound familiar? Andrew thought to himself. 

        “I understand now.” Hailey nodded.

        “Andrew, do you like books?” (Y/N)questioned, the two girls directing their attention towards him.

        “I’m not too sure. I don’t read much.” Andrew answered.

        “Maybe you just haven't found a good book yet. What genre movies do you like?" (Y/N0 questioned.

        Movies? He just watched whatever was on the TV when he was locked in that apartment, but he was so hungry that he didn't have the willpower to actually focus on what was on the screen half the time. 

        "I don't know... anything really..." Andrew mumbled.

        "Let's find a book genre you like! We'll start with Hailey." (Y/N) smiled. "Hailey, do you have any suggestions for him to read?" 

        "Maybe... The Outsiders?" Hailey suggested at a moment of thought, a bit hesitant but starting to warm up just slightly with the new presence in the room.

        But what about your special pick for me you said you'd give? Andrew complained inside his head.

        "The S.E. Hinton one?" (Y/N) questioned.

        "Yes." Hailey smiled.

        "Oh, that's a good one. My favorite character was Sodapop." (Y/N) commented.

        "I liked Darry. He was smart and cool." Hailey chimed in.        

        "What about the book you wanted to show me earlier? The one specifically picked out for me for when I get out of surgery?" Andrew questioned, not exactly caring if it sounded rude to reject Hailey's suggestion.

        "Oh! Yeah. The book is called Eye of the Minds by James Dasher. He made the Maze Runner series if you had seen the movies." (Y/N) explained. "It's a sci-fi. I figured we could give that a try and see if you enjoyed it." 

        "I remembered when you showed me that book! The main protagonist was funny." Hailey commented.

        Andrew briefly wondered how long these two spent together everyday. The more he thought about it, the more he started to get jealous again. By now his headache was subsiding while his anger just grew.

        I never thought I'd be jealous at a little kid... he thought to himself. ...Why even am I jealous? 

        "(Y/N)..." Andrew sighed, succeeding in gaining the nurse's attention. "My head still hurts and I'm tired." He spoke.

        "Oh! I'm sorry, Andrew. I was excited to hear Hailey's input to the book. I didn't mean to neglect you." (Y/N) spoke, immediate guilt forming in her chest as a frown drew on her face.

        I didn't mean to make her feel bad... Andrew thought to himself, resisting the urge to sigh.

        "I'll see you later, hails. I'm going to take Andrew back to his room. I'll make sure to visit before leaving today." (Y/N) spoke, waving to Hailey as she opened the door for her and Andrew.

        "Okay." Hailey nodded, returning the nurse's wave as she watched them leave and shut the door behind them.

        "I didn't mean to ignore your pain, Andrew. I'm a bit of a scatterbrain, but that's no excuse." (Y/N) sighed, walking with Andrew to the elevators.

        "It's okay. You didn't mean it..." Andrew murmured.        

        "I won't do it again." She promised, a smile on her face as she and Andrew made it to the elevators and got an open one, walking into it.

        She pressed the fourth floor button and waited for the elevator to go. Even if she was growing to enjoy Andrew's company, she did feel a little uneasy being in the same elevator as him all alone.

        "So, Andrew. Do you have any favorite shows?" she questioned, trying to make small talk.

        "..Huh?" Andrew voiced, confused on where that came from.

        "I'll be seeing you pretty often now. I want us to build a connection." She explained. "A good way to do that is finding out each other's likes and dislikes." 

        Andrew huffed, ignoring the warmth in his chest that her confession made him feel. They walked out of the elevator and down the hallway, stopping at the staff's room.

        "I don't really like anything." Andrew admitted.

        "I refuse to believe that. We'll find something!" she smiled, determined. "Wait here a second." She instructed, pulling her lanyard from out of her shirt and grabbing her keys, unlocking the staff door.

        "Hi, Penelope." (Y/N) greeted once seeing the female present.

        "Ah. Hello, (Y/N)!" Penelope cheered, her strawberry blonde hair swaying as she stood up from her seat. "How was patient 402? Did he-" she looked behind (Y/N) and made an "eek!" sound, backing up.

        "Don't worry about him, just taking him back to his room. I had to grab painkillers first though." (Y/N) spoke, unlocking the medicine cabinet grabbing a pill bottle of ibuprofen and a bottle of water. 

        She grabbed a napkin and opened the pill bottle, putting two small tablets on the cloth. She walked over to Andrew with the napkin and water.        

        "Here, Andrew." She spoke, gently grabbing Andrew's hand and placing the pills in his palm.

        He accepted it and put them in his mouth without any hesitation. (Y/N) opened the water and tilted his head up, bringing the water bottle to his mouth, just in case he couldn't hold it on his own because of the weakening limbs from the surgery's sedation. He took greedy sips before tapping her hand, allowing her to move the bottle and screw on the lid.

        "There you go." She cooed. "Good job." 

        Why is she so much better at this job than me? She's a student! Why is my patient so trusting of her? Penelope thought. Aw, they look like such a couple! They're both so attractive too! This is too embarrassing! 

        Instead of doing what Penelope was thinking, she just spoke her mind.

        "W-wow..." Penelope muttered, utterly confused, shocked, and a bit flustered.

        "What?" (Y/N) questioned, turning to look at the young nurse.

        "Ack! Nothing!" she exclaimed, her face red as she covered her eyes with her hands.

        "Pen, are you feeling okay?" (Y/N) questioned, taking some steps towards Penelope. "Did you get enough sleep? Do you need food? Water?-"

        "N-no thanks!" she shouted, her face growing even redder at the thought of (Y/N) tilting her head and nursing her with a water bottle instead.

        Andrew understood immediately what was happening as he watched the two interact.

        Damn that nurse... Andrew thought to himself, glaring daggers at Penelope from behind (Y/N)'s shoulder.

        (Y/N) jumped, moving back a little, completely dazed and confused as she looked at the nurse. 

        THAT'S SO EMBARRASSING! Penelope screamed instead her head, resisting the urge to curl up in a ball and scream her heart out.

        Penelope has a problem with loving people too much. It's one of the reasons she became a doctor, to find someone in need and nurse them with her medicine and love. Unfortunately, she's a very shy person and stresses too easily, so her bursts of lovesickness can sometimes be too much for her heart and mind (it's one of the reasons Ruby from day shift can't stand her).

        "Okay...?" (Y/N) spoke, hesitantly. "If you need any help, call me. Okay?" 

        Penelope nodded quickly and spoke, quick to have the pair leave. "I understand! Bye now!" 

        Penelope shoved (Y/N) out of the room (Andrew just about ready to stand up and fight her, if it could walk, that is). Penelope locked the door behind them both as (Y/N) looked back, confused.

        "Huh, that's a little more of a panic attack than usual..." (Y/N) muttered to herself. "Okay, Andrew! Let's get you to your room." She smiled, acting as if nothing happened.

        (Y/N) walked down the hallway and grabbed a security guard that was stationed nearby, having them pick up Andrew and place him in his bed since she wasn't strong enough (she worked with picking up kids, not adults).

        "Alright, Andrew. You're probably really tired after your surgery. I'll leave you be." (Y/N) explained, watching as the security guard left.

        Just before she leaves, Andrew spoke up.

        "Will you be back later?" Andrew questioned, hesitant as he hid his flustered face by turning his head to the side, away from her view.

        "Of course! You can't get rid of me that easy, ya know?" she smiled.

        "Great..." Andrew sighed, not-so-sarcastically as he wished.

        "Oh, before I leave. Make sure you're behaving with the other nurses, they're only trying to help you." (Y/N) lightly scolded.

        I don't want their help. I want yours... Andrew thought to himself, resisting the urge to grimace at her words.

        “Ah, and before I forget too!” she gasped, reaching into her medical back and grabbing a book. “This is a sci-fi dystopian. You might like it! If not, no worries. We’ll find a genre for you.” She spoke, placing the book on his nightstand. “Don’t worry about reading it right now. Just sleep.”

        Andrew looked at the book, then her, before nodding. 

        (Y/N) left the room and shut the door behind her, letting out a sigh. 

        What do I do now? she thought to herself. Today feels so slow... I guess I can go back to the clinic and see what Doctor Ryan's doing. Or maybe I should go check on Penelope? She was panicky today.

        (Y/N) decided to check out Penelope and see what's up with her. (Y/N) is aware of Penelope's random bursts of lovesick confessions (Penelope has gotten into too much trouble with HR because of it, so everyone in the hospital knows about it), but (Y/N) had never really seen it take ahold of her that bad. Usually Penelope resorts to compliments (and light stalking), not full on shutting her brain down and panic.

        Did she find a new crush? (Y/N) wondered.

        Ever since (Y/N) became a student studying general pediatrics here at the hospital, she’s had her fair share of taking care of a patient every once in a blue moon for the psychiatric brand in case a nurse had a emergency and needed to leave. She met Penelope when Ruby had to leave because her daughter was in labor, and the usual nurse that took over Ruby's patients for the night shift had come up with the flu. (Y/N) had taken over Ruby’s patients that night and met Penelope, Penelope explaining what (Y/N) would have to do as a psychiatric nurse for the day.

        That was four months ago. They can technically be considered friends but they have the habit of being a little distant, though it’s slowly fading away ever since they agreed on hanging out every Saturday. Their Saturdays consisted of shopping and running errands together since it’s a day they’re both off. 

        (Y/N) walked back down to the staff room and unlocked the door, finding Penelope on the table face-down.

        “Are you okay?” (Y/N) questioned, standing a good distance from Penelope in case she needed some space.

        “How do you do it?” Penelope questioned, lifting her face off the table.

        “Do what?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “How can you be so calm with such cute guys?!” Penelope shouted, balling up her fists as her face went red.

        Does Penelope have a crush on Andrew? (Y/N) thought to herself.

        Her stomach twisted in either disgust or anger, probably both. She felt like throwing up as she thought about Penelope and Andrew together.

        Andrew was supposed to be Penelope’s patient, but (Y/N) swept him away from her after caring for him one day. Penelope had worked day shift that day since she was taking over one of the day nurses shifts because they were taking the day off for her son's graduation, so Penelope switched shifts with them for the day and worked their day shift, resulting in working with Andrew. However, apparently Andrew didn't like her care enough, or perhaps (Y/N) just has a more calm aura around her compared to Penelope. How she won Andrew over, she’s not sure, but he chose her. He chose her, not Penelope.

        “Ah, well… I guess I’m just really good at hiding what I feel?” (Y/N) smiled, feeling her polite smile twitch.

        “I’m hopeless. How can I ever find someone to love if I just freak out like this...?” Penelope sighed.

        “There, there, pen. I’m sure you’ll find someone one day.” (Y/N) comforted her, patting Penelope’s shoulder.

        Yes, not today or tomorrow. Not Andrew. (Y/N) thought to herself.

        “What will I do without you?!” Penelope cried, throwing herself on (Y/N) and hugging her tightly as she wept into her chest.

        (Y/N) resisted the urge to push Penelope off her. This was seriously unprofessional and she's certain if one of her coworkers (or worse, her superior and trainer Doctor Ryan) walked in, they'd possibly be sent to HR for how this may look. As much as they’re decent-ish friends, she’s not on the hugging level yet, but she doesn’t want to push Penelope off in case Penelope starts crying about that instead. 

        “Aw, pen. You’re too pretty to be crying about boys! Your eyeshadow is getting ruined.” (Y/N) spoke, diverting the subject. 

        “Aw jeez! Look what I did! I’m such a klutz…” Penelope sniffled, grabbing her phone and opening the camera to selfie-mode. “Aw! It was my good eye too! That took forever to even out.” 

        “How about I help you fix it?” (Y/N) offered.

        “You’re the best.” Penelope smiled, wiping the tears out of her eyes, only smudging her eyeshadow worse on both sides now.

        “Don’t mention it. Do you have the makeup on you?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “Yep.” Penelope spoke, cheering up as she grabbed her makeup purse from her staff locker.

        She sat down on the staff room table and handed the bag to (Y/N), allowing the girl to look through her most prized possessions that kept her feeling cute and confident.

        (Y/N) found an eyeshadow box and opened it, browsing the colors and looking for the right one Penelope had smudged all over her.

        “Cute colors.” (Y/N) commented, adoring the light shades of pinks and nudes.

        “Thank you.” Penelope blushed, watching as (Y/N) grabbed a small bag of makeup wipes and opening them.

        (Y/N) grabbed a wipe and scooted closer to Penelope, grabbing her chin and angling it down so (Y/N) could see better. Penelope ignored the blush rising in her face and her heartbeat increasing, instead opting to close her eyes to ignore the closeness the two shared as (Y/N) wiped the makeup off Penelope’s face.

        (Y/N) noticed the blush on Penelope’s face and decided it’d be best not to acknowledge it or tease her. The first time (Y/N) noticed Penelope’s blush when they first met, she made a joke about it that left Penelope speechless around her for a few days. (Y/N) would rather not experience that awkwardness again. 

        If anybody walked in right now, (Y/N) prays that it’s anybody but a manager or Andrew. With how close they are right now, anyone would get the wrong idea.

        She wiped off the remaining makeup before grabbing a small brush and dabbed it in the light pink shade Penelope applied earlier, fixing her eye makeup. It took a few minutes before (Y/N) finished it.

        “Ta-dah!” (Y/N) cheered, resisting the powerful urge to say “you were my star patient today, have a sticker.” (It’s grown in her vocabulary now).

        “Thanks.” Penelope smiled, grabbing her phone and admiring herself in the camera.

        “No problem. I’m going to get back to the pediatric branch. If there’s any problems make sure to come find me.” (Y/N) explained. “Oh, we're still meeting up tomorrow, right? Think about what doughnuts you want! See you later!” (Y/N) waved, quickly shutting the staff door without waiting for Penelope’s farewell.

        Now that that’s all out of the way… I should get back to Doctor Ryan. (Y/N) thought to herself.

        There was a lingering feeling dwelling inside of her. She still felt sick, like kneeling down and spilling her guts out on the floor. Her chest still bubbled with anger, feeling as though steam is escaping through her ears. 

        It’ll probably take all night for me to calm down. (Y/N) figured, letting out a sigh. What was I angry about again? she thought.

        She walked away from the staff room and down the hallway, heading to the elevators. She boarded on and pressed the second floor button, leaning onto the handrail. The elevator’s movement only worsen the discomfort in her stomach.

        (Y/N) exited the elevator when the doors opened, walking down the hallway to the staff room. She would’ve made it there if she didn’t hear obnoxiously loud whispering in the room next to her, sounding similar to a toddler bickering. She peeked in the room and saw two little boys huddled together in front of a hanging white sheet, speaking to what appears as themselves. She noticed the hospital wrist bands on their arms, confirming their admission here.

        “What are you two doing?” (Y/N) questioned, crossing her arms. 

        They both jumped, letting out their own squeals as they turned around and looked at her.

        “N-nothing! Just… playing!” one smiled.

        They both looked like twins, (Y/N) noted.

        “You both should be in your rooms. What are your names?” she questioned.

        “I’m Tom, that’s Jerry.” The other toddler introduced themselves as.

        “Like the cartoon?” she questioned, a smile on her face.

        “Um… yes?” he spoke, hesitantly.

        Wow. Am I that old? They obviously haven’t seen it… she thought to herself.

        “Well, it sure matches you both, since you sneaked out of your rooms. Who are you talking to?” (Y/N) questioned, resisting the urge to peek behind the curtain.

        Yeah. Like I’m that dumb… I’m not going to die like Psycho from a killer hiding behind a damn curtain. She thought to herself. And there’s no way I’m investigating either. I don’t mess with ghosts.

        “Come along, now.” (Y/N) spoke.

        (Y/N) watched as they walked away, shooting each other glares. She looked at the curtain once last time before shutting the door and walking away. If she looked behind the curtain, she would’ve saw Ashley hiding from the security guard, a scalpel in her hand and ready to attack (Y/N) and the kids if the curtain was opened. Ashley was still mad at Andrew, and now she was mad at all the nurses in the hospital, but especially Andrew’s new nurse he grew to favor. 

        (Y/N) led the two kids to the staff room and unlocked the door, peeking in and looking for any nurse that recognizes these two. She saw one of the pediatric nurses, Wally, and smiled.

        “Ah, Wally. Do you know these two?” (Y/N) questioned, bringing the two kids into the room.

        “I thought I locked their doors. They kept trying to escape…” Wally sighed, standing up from his seat.

        “I used a pen to escape.” Jerry smiled. “Then broke Tom out.”

        “Well, thank you for telling me how you got out, because now there’s a no pen policy in your rooms.” Wally spoke, giving them a stern glare.

        “Aw! You just had to run your mouth!” Tom huffed.

        “You didn’t stop me!” Jerry poorly excused as Wally dragged them back to their hospital rooms.

        “How was I supposed to know what you were gonna say?” Tom questioned.

        I wonder what they’re in here for. (Y/N) thought to herself. They sure seem energetic for being sick or injured, but I supposed it could be something internal. 

        She decided to ignore it and refill her medical bag. She grabbed a new bottle of water and pretzels since she gave her old pair to Hailey earlier. 

        She walked out of the room and locked the door, heading back to the clinic. She found Doctor Ryan’s office and stood outside, waiting a few minutes in case there was a patient, that way in case a patient was getting a shot they wouldn't get startled and jump, accidentally breaking the needle or causing harm. She heard nothing from inside the door and assumed there was no patients, so she knocked gently.

        “Come in.” Doctor Ryan spoke.

        “Hello, sir.” (Y/N) greeted, entering the room and shutting the door behind them. “Is there any new patients today?” 

        “Only walk-ins, remember?” Doctor Ryan reminded.

        “Yeah, but I’m so bored…” she sighed.

        “I’ve never met a student that’s actually excited to work.” Doctor Ryan admitted, chuckling.

        “Not all that excited, but I woke up today to go to work, and I get paid to work, so I wanna work. Time is so slow when there’s nothing to do.” (Y/N) rambled.

        “I agree. Hey, I heard you got Andrew admitted for surgery. Internal bleeding in the brain?” Doctor reminded.

        (Y/N) felt a flash of worry and she grimaced.

        “Was that… the wrong call?” she questioned, not even bothering to hide the discomfort and worry on her face.

        “It was the right call. Good job. I just wanted to see you squirm.” The doctor laughed.

        “Sheesh, you worried me! I thought I got fired before evening getting the real job.” (Y/N) sighed.

        “Sorry, sorry. How is he doing? Social-wise? Is he still stingy towards the other nurses?” he questioned.

        “I introduced him to Hailey today. They both were quiet, but they interacted for a bit, which is good considering Hailey hasn’t seen a new visitor in a while.” She explained. "He saw Penelope too and didn't throw anything at her. So that's... good?"

        “How’s Hailey’s condition?” Doctor Ryan asked.

        “She’s only getting worse. I really don’t think she’ll live for long.” (Y/N) sighed, a frown forming on her face.

        “That’s unfortunate. Sadly, it’s part of our job to see them go sometimes.” Doctor Ryan spoke, patting her shoulder. “But hey, we’re here to help prevent that.”

        “That does remind me, when is Hailey’s next chemotherapy session?” she questioned.

        “It’ll be Sunday, but you and me won’t be here. With our day off and all.” Doctor Ryan explained. “Any plans?”

        “I’m hanging out with Penelope from the psychiatric branch tomorrow. Sunday I’ll catch up on sleep.” (Y/N) informed.

        She noticed his smug expression and glared at him, but that didn’t stop him from making his joke.

        “Well, I bet Andr-“ 

        “Don’t finish it.” (Y/N) warned.

        “Okay. Okay.” He chuckled.

        “What do you plan on doing?” she questioned, redirecting the conversation. 

        “Hanging out with my wife and kids. Probably get no sleep.” He shrugged.

        “Poor you, family man.” (Y/N) teased.

        “You don’t understand what it’s like trying to sleep in a house with two toddlers during the day. It’s not very easy.” He explained.

        “How’s the wife and kids anyway?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “Jax just celebrated his third birthday. Piper’s learning to read. And Jane wants me to work day shift.” Doctor Ryan sighed.

        “Well, why don’t you?” (Y/N) questioned. “You sleep in the day and can’t spend time with your family at night since they're sleeping. I think it’d be best.” 

        “Exactly. Everyone does that. We don’t have enough nurses for night shift, especially skilled ones.” Doctor Ryan huffed, then remembered that (Y/N) technically qualifies as unskilled, at the moment at least. “Which is why I teach you! So I can skedaddle!” 

        “I’ll be the best pediatrician here.” (Y/N) smiled, then noticed the stare Doctor Ryan gave her. “Night shift wise, I will be. You’ll be on the day shift.”

        Doctor Ryan’s walkie-talkie went off, catching both of their attention.         

        “Doctor Ryan, a nurse is bringing a patient to you. Possible UTI.” The walkie-talkie spoke.

        “Aw, poor kid.” (Y/N) spoke.

        “Yeah, poor kid alright.” Doctor Ryan grimaced, just imagining the pain and discomfort.

        “Well, let’s get it checked out then prescribe antibiotics if they’re right.” She sighed, stretching her arms out and cracking her knuckles.         .         .         Thirty minutes before (Y/N)’s shift and she felt exhausted. The work day went by pretty fast and now she was walking down the hallway to see Hailey.

        She slowly opened the door, not wanting to knock and accidentally wake up Hailey, but she wanted to make sure Hailey was still breathing.

        She expected to see a sleeping girl but instead she saw that she was wide awake, using her nightstands lamp as a light so she could read.

        “Hailey!” (Y/N) lightly hissed through her teeth, quiet so she doesn’t accidentally wake up any nearby patients sleeping in their rooms.

        “Hello, Ms. Gwin.” Hailey smiled, unphased that she got caught. 

        “It’s 5:30 in the morning and you’re still up. You should’ve been long in bed sleeping.” She scolded, walking up to Hailey and sitting down on her guest chair. “But, since you’re up. How’s the book?”

        “I think it’s really interesting, the way her decisions could have such consequences. I never thought decisions would mean so much.” Hailey explained.

        “Of course. You know, I had to decide if I wanted to be a nurse or a writer.” (Y/N) admitted.

        “Well, you’re a nurse now.” Hailey smiled, before it dropped. “Do… you think if you weren’t a nurse, would we have never met?” 

        “Probably not.” (Y/N) admitted, not bothering to sugarcoat it to her. "But that's just a consequence from my decision. Not all consequences mean bad things. I don't regret not being a writer either. I'm here with you, aren't I?" she smiled, patting Hailey's hand reassuringly.

        "Uh, that boy from earlier..." Hailey started.

        (Y/N)'s smile disappeared as she felt a bolt of lightning strike her. She felt sick again, and her chest started to pop and boil, and her hands started to tremble. She dug her nails into her palms once more and tilted her head, leaning in close to listen to the girl.

        "He was scary..." Hailey muttered, causing (Y/N) to let out a forced giggle.

        "Ah, yes. I supposed Andrew was. But he's real sweet when he opens up." (Y/N) smiled, giving her a small white lie since she really didn't know herself if Andrew was sweet, but she at least wanted to ease the girl's nerves.

        "I think he likes you." Hailey teased, letting out a girlish giggle.

        "Everyone apparently thinks that." (Y/N) laughed, recalling Doctor Ryan's words. 

        "Well, do you like him back?" Hailey questioned.        

        "Oh, hails. I just met him yesterday!" (Y/N) pointed out, shaking her head as she smiled.

        "It's true love at first sight!" Hailey declared.

        "Where'd you learn that saying?" (Y/N) questioned.

        "I'm serious! I think you two would be really cute, you're like polar opposites!" Hailey claimed, ignoring (Y/N)'s previous question.

        Really, personality-wise, I don't think we're too different. Hailey doesn't understand my outside-work persona. (Y/N) thought to herself as she just smiled and went along with what Hailey said.

        "You should confess!" Hailey encouraged. 

        "What's with you and this?" (Y/N) questioned.

        "I know I won't live long enough to experience love like in the books... so I figured the second best thing would be having you live it." Hailey smiled, her smile fake and twitching.

        "Oh, hails..." (Y/N) sighed, getting up from her chair and walking to Hailey's bedside.

        Hailey scooted over so that (Y/N) could sit on the bed with her. Hailey immediately wrapped her arms around (Y/N)'s torso and dug her face into (Y/N)'s chest, her shoulders heaving up and down, giving away that she was crying. (Y/N) sighed and wrapped one of her arms around Hailey, the other she used to gently caress Hailey's bald scalp, a permanent reminder of her condition.

        (Y/N) wanted to tell her that Hailey would be alright, that she would make it through, but she knew she couldn't promise that, especially to a little kid. She wasn't going to accidentally give the girl false hope and have her miserable on her potential death bed. 

        "You're such a sweet girl, any boy would fall for you instantly. Your cute little button nose and brown eyes would have any boy smitten. Your laugh and sweet personality would have any boy confess their love for you. If you made some friends with the boys here in this branch, you'll have so many guys surrounding you, you wouldn't know what to do!" (Y/N) reassured, poking Hailey's nose and causing her to giggle.

        "Do you think they'd still like me even without hair?" Hailey questioned.

        "Course they would. If a boy only likes you for your looks, punch him for me." (Y/N) joked, smiling.

        "I will." Hailey giggled.

        "Hey, I'll tell you what. When I come back on Monday, I'll take you out to the garden. The flowers are in bloom this year!" (Y/N) spoke.

        "Promise?" Hailey gasped.

        "I swear on my life." (Y/N) smiled. "Now, I'm going to go pay Andrew a little visit. You better sleep when I leave this room, understand?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “Yes.” Hailey nodded.

        “Thank you. And good job today, Hailey. I’m so proud of you for talking with Andrew and staying strong as always. What color star would you like today?” (Y/N) asked, reaching into her medical bag.

        “Purple.” Hailey smiled.

        “You got it.” (Y/N) smiled, placing the sticker down onto Hailey’s nightstand. “Goodnight, hails. I’ll see you Monday.” 

        “Goodnight.” Hailey smiled, getting comfortable in her bed.

        (Y/N) walked out of the room and closed the door, making her way to the elevators. She got on and pressed the fourth floor button, waiting for the elevator to stop moving. The doors opened and she walked out and to Andrew’s room. She made it in front of the door then knocked.

        There was no answer.

        Ah, Andrew must’ve went to bed like I asked. It’s good that he actually listens to me. (Y/N) thought, a smile appearing on her face at the thought of having possibly tamed the cannibalistic murderer (however she did, she does not know).

        (Y/N) opened the door quietly, just to check. It’s also a possibility that he could’ve died in his sleep due to the anesthesia or a error in the surgery. It could also be a possibility that he jumped out of the window since he’s on suicide-watch (not like any other nurse had the nerves to come in and actually leave with no bruises).

        She opened the door and noted that he was still in bed, sleeping peacefully. His heart monitor was still on and showed his vitals, all sounding normal and looked it too. Her heart sped up a bit as she watched him sleep peacefully.

        He looks so peaceful. (Y/N) noted, admiring his vulnerable and slumbering figure. 

        He was handsome when he wasn't frowning. Well, even when he did have a scowl on his face, he was certainly able to make such an ugly face a pretty one. His pale skin in comparison to his dark hair was breathtaking, and his green eyes were simply divine, like Granny Smith apples; sour and tart, but a hint of sweet when you bite down just right.

        She eventually snapped out of her trance after remembering that she was still in the hallway and what she was doing was no doubt creepy, and shut the door. It probably would’ve been a good idea to have told him that she would be gone for a few days, but she’s sure he’ll manage decently. 

        She walked away and to the branch’s staff room, unlocking the door. Lucky, there was no one in for her to have to converse with—nobody except Penelope. Penelope patients were always the most tamest and laidback since HR knew her.. questionable... personality.

        “Hey!” Penelope smiled, just finishing clocking out.

        “Hello!” (Y/N) greeted back, walking towards her and grabbing the clipboard and pen from her hands as Penelope handed it to her.

        “How was patient 402 today?” Penelope questioned.

        “Ah, he had surgery so I didn’t see much of him. He saw Hailey for a few minutes before he went to his room and slept.” (Y/N) explained. 

        “Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m so glad he’s doing okay and I’m glad he’s getting along with Hailey.” Penelope squealed.

        “Mmhm.” (Y/N) hummed, finishing her clock-out.

        She used the computer and typed up today's report for all her patients. When she got to Andrew's she typed: get casting on leg done immediately while he’s still asleep so he or his sister doesn’t get hostile. 

        Penelope read the screen from over (Y/N)’s shoulder, then spoke.

        “Oh. His sister? I haven’t seen her since yesterday!” Penelope explained.

        “Huh. Well, maybe she had something to do today?” (Y/N) reasoned. 

        “Maybe! But I heard from Ruby that she was kicked out of the hospital after she got aggressive with Andrew. She probably got banned from returning.” Penelope explained.

        (Y/N) physically grimaced, a scowl forming on her face at Penelope saying Andrew’s name. She really didn’t like it when Penelope said his name and she’s not sure why.

        “Is there something wrong? Did you forget to do something?” Penelope questioned.

        “Oh, no. I just made the face because I can’t believe his sister could be so mean to him while he’s injured.” (Y/N) smiled forcefully.

        “Right? Poor Andrew… I really hope he doesn’t have to see her anytime soon! It makes me wonder how she usually treats him uninjured.” Penelope frowned, pitying the poor patient who wasn’t in the room.

        (Y/N) grimaced again, hating her saying “Andrew” just as much as she hated it the first time, if not, even stronger.

        “I agree.” She spoke through her smiling teeth, another forceful grin. "Welp!" she smiled, clapping her hands together. "See you tomorrow, Penelope!" she spoke, quick to clock out and leave. 

        (Y/N) quickly walked down the hall to the elevators, hopping in and pressing the lobby button. She took a moment to compose herself, leaning against the railing.

        I feel so weird today. My chest feels like it's being squeezed and I feel almost angry... She thought, confused of her emotions. 

        Maybe she didn't eat a big enough lunch. When she gets home, she'll eat dinner and drink lots of water before heading to bed. Yeah, she could use the meal and the sleep. It can be really difficult being the caretaker when you have no one to care for you, but in her own words, "in order to care for another, you must first learn to care for yourself."

        She got in her car and drove back to her apartment, shutting the door and locking it before she collapsed on her living room's couch. She laid on her back for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling blankly, no thoughts crossing her mind.

        She needed the few minutes to gain some energy. It’s always so exhausting smiling and being positive, especially in such a depressing and brooding setting such as a hospital where many meet their end, even worse that its children. 

        She doesn’t regret her decision in going through with becoming a pediatrician, but it does get heartbreaking seeing young kids die. She tries her best to help them, but sometimes there’s just some things out of your control.

        She knows that when Hailey dies, she’ll be absolutely devastated. Out of all the patients she sees and talks to, she always makes sure to give Hailey the most of her attention and time. 

        Hailey was first admitted into the hospital when she was seven. After weeks of in and out tests at the hospital, MRI’s and blood withdraws, she was diagnosed with cancer. From then on, she spent her days at the hospital. Hailey’s parents were always busy, one was a lawyer and the other was a traveling diplomat. The nurses were basically babysitters for her while her parents were working.

        Her parents loved her, they loved her so much that they couldn’t bare to see her slowly deteriorate in front of their eyes, so they forced themselves away from her side and indulged in work to rid the thought of their only daughter dying. They didn’t realize how lonely or terrifying it was for Hailey, to suddenly be surrounded by white walls and white floors and white sheets. Surrounded by the stench of heavy bleach and aroma of lemons. By radiation machines and clumps of lost hair on her pillows. 

        She watched out of her window as other patients walk in and out of the hospital, their families walking by their side, supporting them during their times of need. Her visitors weren't family, but nurses and doctors entering and exiting her room, no longer bothering to smile or give her white lies of how she'll heal soon.

        (Y/N) couldn't try to understand or emphasize, she wasn't sick in a hospital bed balding. She wasn't bedridden, and she had the fortunate ability to move her legs unlike Hailey's legs, the clumping of leukemia cells in Hailey's knees making it hard to walk on some days. (Y/N)'s been Hailey's nurse for five months now, she had started nursing Hailey before she decided to change her career.

        (Y/N) was originally going to be a pediatric nurse, make sure children are sticking to their proper recovery path and taking medications that they're doctors are prescribing them, provide utmost comfortability and nurturing to them as they could, and constantly run tests on their weights, diets, and symptoms, but she changed her studies to become a pediatric hematologist-oncologist after meeting Hailey. 

        (Y/N) graduated high school a year early by taking Advanced Placement (college-level) courses and getting a head start by going to classes during school breaks and on the weekends. It was exhausting and downright infuriating at times, but she managed and graduated with her high school diploma along with a certificate in child care after completing a three-year course in high school for early childhood education; allowing her to get a part-time job after high school by working in a daycare. Then she moved out from her parents, heading to college and completing one year of adolescent medicine (originally, it was supposed to be four, but her AP classes counted for college-credit and high school credits). She finished college five months ago, and now she's learning from Doctor Ryan JTED general pediatrics while taking online hematology-oncology classes to graduate med school early. 

        She had always been an over-achiever, aiming for success to please her parents and earn what little praise she could. It had been a goal ever since she was a child, to hear such little words from them with actual meaning, not just false words spoken on auto-pilot to shoo their child away.

        Her father wanted her to be successful and rich in life, so she wouldn't have to deal with poverty in her future anymore, and her mother... well, her mother really didn't care what she did. In fact, her mother never cared at all. Her parents were always working all the time. Her father worked as an overworked and underpaid mechanic who worked 6-8, never having any time for his daughter as he worked in the day and slept at night. Her mother was also a nurse, specializing in cardiology; she slept in the day and worked at night. Even on her days off, she slept and ignored (Y/N)'s needs. 

        From two years old to five, (Y/N) was locked alone in a room with a bed, TV, and a bathroom. She was locked in a dark room for 16 hours a day, with no food and the only water source was from the sink's faucet. All she did in that room was sleep, watch cartoons on the TV, and cry; begging to be let out of the room, begging for food, begging for any sort of affection or tenderness from her mother who slept in the room next door so that (Y/N) wouldn't interrupt her sleeping. Instead, the only affection she received in her life was the embrace of her bed's sheets.

        All her time in her hands caused her to sleep so much she developed a sleeping disorder, hypersomnia; the inability to remain alert, woke, or refreshed in the daytime despite having an excessive amount of rest. That condition became chronic, even now she struggled with it, which made her excessive daytime sleepiness so much worse due to working eight hours at the hospital for her JTED classes of general pediatrics (at least she got paid for her apprenticeship, working from 8 A.M. to 5 P.M.), and studying online for hematology-oncology for at least 3 to 4 hours after work. She's eternally grateful for her med school being paid, earning a scholarship due to all her high grades in her AP classes and completing college with her adolescent medicine degree. Medicine was a part of her mother's side of the family, and (Y/N) naturally became a caretaker after learning to care for herself her whole life; touch starved from the hands of her mother and father. 

        If (Y/N) had been the patient in the hospital bed, would her mother have cared then? Would she have shown a bit of sympathy? Even just touch her arm for a few seconds to feel for a vein and inject a IV needle in? The answer was no. Her mother didn't care when (Y/N) had been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, fainting after days of neglecting her needs of food and water in order to complete her piling school work. Her mother didn't care when (Y/N) pleaded for help at ten years old, saying she believed she had depression and needed help. 

        Instead of helping her, her mother shook it off as hormones from puberty, and even told her to stop overreacting that: "You can't be depressed. People have such worse lives than you, dying alone in hospital beds, and here you are, crying about a few hormonal mood swings." 

Her mother didn't even care when (Y/N) had tried to kill herself when she was just eleven years old. For a nurse, whose job is supposed to protect and care, she was cruel.

        Her father cared, he really did, but he just didn't have the time for her. While her mother slept and ignored her, he was at work busting his ass off to earn money and support their family. He had grown up poor, living in immense poverty, sharing a bedroom with his sister, unsure of when their next meal was. He never graduated high school, he went to the military but after a few years was rejected due to heart conditions, which led him to coming home and getting his GED so that he could go to college and become a mechanic. Money was always a problem for her family, even in a two-income household it was hard to meet living standards. A big reason she piled all that work on her and neglected her health was so she could get her schooling paid for. 

        Remember her saying from earlier? "In order to care for another, you must first learn to care for yourself." Well, she had to teach herself that the hard way. She realized she couldn't be a nurse and preach others to care for themselves if she couldn't even care for herself. So, she took on hobbies to help her mental health, forced herself to make friends and gain confidence, made an oath to stop her self-harm when she was young. This was a challenge, but it presented opportunity for growth, for success, for happiness. 

        Opportunity is everywhere, so long as you choose to believe it. You don't need to see things to know it's there, so long as you have faith. Opportunity is everywhere, lurking and waiting to jump out from the corner and get you! Even the corner of your bedroom, while you lay thinking of nothing and everything depressingly on your couch. Opportunity is stalking, waiting patiently for you to walk through your bedroom door so they could give you a big hug! Or a stab! Or multiple stabs! 

        Opportunity comes in many forms. Education, money, experience, decisions, and even people; such as Ashley Graves! Opportunities to pursue your goal of nursing, or if we use Ashley's motivation, a wonderful opportunity to stab a little nurse out of jealousy all because she just happened to get too close to her brother after he made a minor slip-up. A Grave consequence, really. 

A cliff-hanger! This is where the next chapter will take some time to come out since all the previous chapters were drafts I wrote for fun before I started writing for Tumblr.

Also, Penelope is one of my first yanderes I created myself, an OC! While she won't play a major role in this series, she'll have her own headcannons and such one day once I get around to it, maybe you'll find an interest in her yourself!

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for requests!

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, current chapter, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 + 6 (in the works)

#stellar constellations #coffin of andy and leyley #andy graves #andy graves x reader #andrew graves x reader #andrew graves #andy and leyley #fem reader #x yn #x reader #x you #x y/n #x fem!reader #x female reader #x female y/n #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x yandere #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x willing reader #female yandere

[thedevilsoftruth]

Every inch of you

Pariring: ( COMIC ) Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Jake Lockley x Afab reader

Summary; You're driving back home after having your honey moon with Marc and your family is waiting back at home for your arrival but none of Marc's alters seem to want to take their hands off you.

Warning: This is just pure smut, its just straight up porn. Inaccurate depictions of DID, unprotected piv ( don't try this at home) dacryphilla, spanking, car sex, Jake being mean to the reader, several orgasms, cream pie, MDNI!!

Notes: Finding comic Jake Lockley or Steven Grant smut is like rare so i decided i would step up and make this. They're based on their characters in the comics, so Steven isn't british and Jake doesn't speak Spanish here, ( because he doesn't speak Spanish in comics and it's just easier on me bc I don't speak the language and don't want to offend fluent speakers) sorry mcu fans lol. ENJOY!

" S-Steven I'm almost there.. " You moaned out to your lover, grinding yourself against him in the driver's seat of his black Tesla. He watched you move against him pathetically, smiling at you devilishly.

" Go ahead, babe. But the boys say they want turns with you. " He rested one hand on your hip, his other right in between your bodies, his thumb rolling around your clit.

The thought of Steven switching to Marc or even worse, Jake, was horrific. Marc wasn't as bad as Jake but every time Jake had the chance to get inside you, he tore you apart like a piece of paper.

You buried your face Into the crook of Stevens neck, breathing in his minty scent and moaning chants of his name. He ran a hand down your back and started grinding into you at a steady rhythm.

" Dont let Jake be too rough with me, " you panted in his ear. He hummed In response, increasing his speed and finally hitting your sweet spot. Your face contorted in pure bliss and your lips let out a choir of endless pants and moans.

" I can't make promises i cant keep, princess. " he chuckled, kissing your shoulder and breathing into your skin.You bit your lip and let out an orgasmic moan, feeling him getting just to the right spot.

" Oh, f-fuck. R-right there, Steven! " You cried out, digging your nails into his shoulders for dear life as he hit that same spot repeatedly, never changing his rhythm.

" Like that? " He asked, his usual gravelly voice changing to Marc's clear voice, letting you know he switched. All you could do was whimper and nod in response, to which he took well, pulling his hips back before thursting forward into your heat.

The windows in Steven's Tesla were fogging up, the inside of the car becoming hot with both of your ragged breathing. There wasn't anyone around in the empty parking lot he had parked in, the gas station nearby was completely closed and it was in the middle of no where, basically. All four of you knew you had to get back home soon and that your family was waiting for you, but Steven just couldn't resist you in that dress. Plus, you had just gotten back from your honey moon with them.He could just tell everyone you ran into bad traffic, right?

" Oh, Marc... so good. So, so good. " You moaned, craning your head back and grabbing onto the steering wheel from behind you. You sunk your bottom lip into your mouth as you felt waves of pleasure overtaking you, his cock buried into the deepest parts of you and his thumb still rubbing circles around your sensitive bud.

With one last long moan from your lips and one last thrust of his hips, you came undone all over him finally, your body quivering.

" Good girl, making a pretty little mess around me.. Oh, look at you." Marc cooed, swiping a drop of your milky white come off his shaft and licking it with his thumb. He leaned in and gave you a soft peck on your lips before you fell limp over his body.

" We should get going, baby. " You took a glance at the infotainment system and saw the same read 12:38 AM. A low groans errupted from Marc's chest and he pinched your thighs, making you yelp in surprise.

" But I'm not done with you. " He murmured against your ear, his voice deeper and more commanding than usual. You had forgotten about him.

" Go to the back. " Jake said, raising his big hand and giving your ass a slap. Those simple four words were enough to make you shake, especially hearing it from him.

" but it's getting late--"

" I won't repeat myself. " He snarled, slapping your ass again, this time harder. You quickly obliged, giving up your fight because you knew he was never going to agree. You climbed into the soft, black seats and layed down for him, allowing him to crawl on top of you. You automatically wrapped your legs around his waist, welcoming him back into your slick entrance and letting him capture your lips again.

" You have to do a better job at listening to me, princess. " He whispered harshly in your ear, rolling his hips against yours slowly, taking full advantage of your wetness. You averted your gaze from his intense eyes scanning your body. Your bottom lip trembled, knowing this would only be the beginning.

Jake grabbed your neck and forced your gaze back on him.

" okay? And you look at me when I fuck you, understand? " He hissed and gave your cheek a smack, his thrusts becoming faster amd harsher. His eyes glittered dangerously and you gulped, nodding quickly, your hands clutching the sides of the seat tightly.

" Y--yes, Jake. " you whimpered, barley even able to speak or look at him straight. A low hum came up his throat and he smirked.

" Good girl, so good for me. " he purred, his voice laced with dominance and desire. The intensity in his eyes sent shivers down your spine as he slammed his hips against yours, the force reverberating through your body. Your breath hitched at the sudden impact, the pleasure intermingling with a hint of pain, driving you to the edge of ecstasy. He brought his greedy hands underneath your shirt, his calloused fingers fondling with your breast gently.

Jake's touch, though possessive and demanding, held a seductive tenderness. His hand caressed your breast with a skillful touch, his thumb teasing your hardened nipple. Waves of pleasure coursed through your veins, electrifying every nerve ending in your body. The feeling of his hands on you, the feeling of him buried inside you. Your back arched instinctively, craving more of his touch, aching for the release that only he could give you.

His lips trailed hot kisses along your jawline, nipping at your sensitive skin.You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his skin brushing against yours as he moved with an agressive rhythm, driving you closer to the edge of oblivion.

" Oh, Jake... f-fucking hell, so good!" You moaned, throwing your head back, feeling him inside you so deep that you swore you could feel him in your stomach. He leg go of your breast and used that hand to rub your throbbing clit and further stimulate you. You bit your lip to contain your moans and threw your hand at the window, trying to get ahold of anything for support.

" Yeah? You like that?" Jake growled, his voice heavy with desire as he continued to thrust into you with an intensity that not even Marc would dare to match. Each movement of his hips sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, igniting a fire that burned hotter and hotter with each passing second.

Jake's hand grasped your neck, his grip firm but not suffocating, shaking you slightly. Everying about him seemed to turn you on; The dominance in his touch, the way he controlled every aspect of your pleasure. it all sent shivers down your spine and a surge of arousal straight to your core. You were completely at his mercy, surrendering yourself to his insatiable hunger. And the both of you fucking loved it. He loved watching you writhe, whimper and beg for him beneath him; loved knowing that he could make you do that.

" Jake, almost there again--s-slow down. " You choked out, tapping his wrist gently but he was too busy losing himself to seeing you so fucked out of your mind.

" Hmm? what was that, baby? Go faster? " He teased, his words striking you straight to your core and making you whimper. He lossened his grip around your neck a little tear ran down your cheek. He pulled his hips back and the straight forward, back and forth back and forth, hitting that spot you so badly needed him to hit again.

" Jake... Jake, please. " You cried, tears of pure bliss running down your cheeks and your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

" God its that good, aint it? So good it makes you fucking cry. " he laughs darkly, withdrawing his hand from your neck and wiping away your tears. All you could do was moan and nod.

" Yes, yes, oh god. " You mumbled, biting your lips hard as you tried to control your moans. Your fingers clenched his broad shoulders tight and your toes curled in pure ecstacy. He curled his fist into your scalp and growled.

" I want to hear you scream my name." He snarled, using his free hand to throw your quivering leg above his shoulder to deepen his thrusts. You gasped loudly and threw your head back into the leather seat, your nails digging into his skin.

" Say it, baby. I'm so far gone. " He whispered angrily, feeling himself coming to the edge of spilling inside you. You were also building up your high, your insides burning for that release. His cock slammed against your sweet spot persistently, and you were sure it would be any second before you came all over him again.

" Oh fuck, Jake, don't fucking stop! " the moans you were relasing were just straight up pornographic at that point, your face scrunching up in nothing but ecstasy.

" Louder. " He said, pushing himself as far as he could inside you.

" Dont stop, Jake! " and just hearing that made him release ropes of his milky white orgasm into your quivering cunt. The both of you were left simply panting, but he wasn't done.

" Tell me when, baby. " he said, giving you a couple fast thrusts before slowing down his pace a bit. You groaned loudly, the feeling of his release inside you and him still going was phenomenal. And then--

" S-stop. " You said, patting his chest. He nodded and stopped, pulling out halfway and feeling you release all over his length.

" Oh, so good. " he said, fully pulling out and watching your hips jerking involuntarily as you tried to recover. He smiled at you warmly and gave you a kiss.

" such a good girl, my good girl. " he said, running his finger through your hair as he looked down at you lovingly.

" what time is it? " You choked out. He lifted his right wrist and checked his apple watch.

" 1:20 AM " He murmured. it was probably going to take another hour to take back home and you were exhausted.

" okay whos driving? "

#marvel #marvel mcu #marvel smut #marc spector #moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #marvel comics #marvel fanfiction #jake lockley x reader #jake lockely smut #jake lockely x you #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector smut #marc spector x reader #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #moon knight smut #moon knight comics

[acerathia]

Magic Shop || S. Todoroki

Summary:

After 'accidentally' getting cursed, you seek the witch of the forest to fix this problem. Only did you not expect a beautiful man to reside there...

Wordcount: 12.4k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Witch!Todoroki Shoto / GN!Reader

Tags/CW:

witch!shoto, contractual partners to friends to lovers, pining!! lots of pining, aged-up characters, GN reader, honestly mostly vibes in the woods idk what to say, fluff, innuendos, but sfw, maybe shoto is ooc, forgive my transagression <;/3

Note:

Please note that information about witches may be inaccurate as I was only using my fantasy. And any links are safe!! Also!! This is part of the 'Haunted House Collab' by Willow's House, check out the other works!!

Your hand slaps against the surface of your ringing phone, hoping to silence it with a lucky stroke back to sleep. But that only works for a couple of minutes as it starts once again relentlessly chiming, with no way to stop it. With a groan you remember the infinite number of alarms you had set yourself the night before, your past self too aware of your strong desire to sleep overpowering your need to go to work. So you don’t have a choice, you’d like to keep your job for as long as possible, even with your current sleeping habits.

Slowly you swing your upper body up, and blink blearily, just staring into your room for a couple of seconds, just trying to force you to properly wake up. You take your phone into your hand to stop the still blaring alarm and of course every subsequent alarm after that one. You run your hands over your face, once again trying to wake yourself up before getting up. Shuffling your feet, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up. A good splash in your face does wonders against this fatigue, but only sometimes, so you hope it works today.

It actually helped a bit, your eyes stinging from the direct contact with the flying water. After finishing the rest of your routine, you go back to your room and put your work clothes on, ignoring the crinkles in them, even if your hands mindlessly try to flatten them, they will eventually disappear, hopefully. You just don’t have time nor the patience to iron them out. Nobody is going to notice them underneath a blazer. A last look in the mirror tells you that you do look presentable enough to show up at work. So you grab your necessities and hurry out of the door.

You don’t hurry because you might be late, you just like to be a bit early on the street, never sure what might delay your way, a traffic jam leading every car to link its arms with each other, making any other form of transportation nigh unusable. This especially accounts for you being stuck between arms and torsos of other people, holding for dear life on a pole in the bus, trying your best to avoid falling onto the ground with every rumbling stop.

Your stop draws near, and you’re finally able to leave the suffocating transportation can, you take a second to breathe, to collect yourself once again. The shaking of the bus has almost begun to lull you back to sleep, even if you were standing with hands in a death grip. So you slap both of your cheeks and continue your way to your workplace.

At your arrival, you think that luck must be on your side, as you still have a couple of minutes until your shift starts, enough time to calm down after all that speed walk, and simply drink some water. You put your stuff into the locker and begin your work. And you hope to keep that luck running for the rest of the morning.

But it seems that your luck is already strained thin, as you mess up some of the dates by accident, inconveniencing a visitor at their work. So you hurry up to apologize for this mistake before they can ask for your boss.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. We’ll fix this as soon as possible, so feel free to take a seat, Mrs. Nukarumi,” you offer her with a smile, not moving a muscle as her face shifts at the name-drop. You don’t realize your mistake until she steps closer, a menacing aura clogging your airways. You begin to panic, but you keep your face professional, a smile, a questioning tilt to the head.

“Listen, I can excuse some mishap at work, happens to the best of us. But getting my name wrong, and to such a distasteful degree is arrogant, especially after being quite the regular at your establishment,” she puts two fingers on your forehead, her nails pressing against your skin, and now you drop your smile for a frown, as the shadow of her hand covers your face, suffocating in a way only air can be. “It’s Nakamura, and I’d like to know how you will live your life without a soul ever recognizing you.”

Her fingers begin to feel warmer with each second, and at first, you thought it might be due to the prolonged skin contact. That is until this warmth turns into heat, her fingerprints searing themselves into your skull, your skin non-existent. Some kind of pain spreads all over your facial features, not painful enough to coax out a scream, but enough to make your muscles twitch in response. At this sensation, you try your best to pull away, but you seem to be glued to her fingertips, like she’s holding the strings of your body between her knuckles with this simple touch.

You finally manage to take a step back the moment her fingers leave your skin. She seems to be satisfied with whatever she just did, as a grin spreads over her face as she glances over your face. Mischief is coloring the outlines of her lips before she just leaves without another word, not caring if the situation is fixed any time soon.

For some reason, this is the least of your worries, as you make your way to the bathroom with quick steps in search of a mirror. But the moment you stand in front of one, you can’t see anything wrong with your face, not even a small print of her fingers on your forehead. Everything looks normal and proper to you, so you just shrug it off, keen on returning to your post behind the desk.

On the walk back to your space, you come across the manager, who gives you a weird look, and you glance down at yourself, thinking your clothes might have gotten in disarray. But there’s nothing wrong with them. You still straighten your blazer a bit, which doesn’t seem to help, as he finally comes up to you.

“Excuse me, this area is for staff only,” he tells you with a warning in his voice, and you can only furrow your eyebrows at that.

“Uh, yes, I am a staff. It’s my shift right now,” you reply, confusion tinting your voice.

“Lying is useless in this case, I don’t recognize you, and I know all of my staff.” He shakes his head in some form of disappointment before threatening to call security if you don’t clear the space immediately.

Absolutely confused, you just leave the space, and even the building altogether, just heading home, because what else are you supposed to do? You got kicked out by your boss, for some strange reason, and nothing makes sense to you.

What did he say again? He doesn’t recognize you? That’s the wildest reason to kick someone out, ever. Does he want to fire you, or is he pulling some kind of elaborate prank or scheme? You honestly don’t care, you just hope you still get paid for your work.

As you have some time to spare, for obvious reasons, you decide to take a short trip to the store to get yourself some groceries, and maybe you could chat a bit with your acquaintance there, letting a couple of minutes pass in idle talk.

So you enter the store and begin collecting whatever your heart desires, and whatever your wallet allows you, before making your way to the register, where your almost friend works. You smile and greet them, hoping to be able to listen to whatever gossip they have at the moment. But they only give you the usual customer service smile, the usual greeting voice, no recognition sparking in their eyes at all.

Your chest constricts and you try to think of what you might have done to offend them, yet nothing seems to be the problem. And you could hardly bother them while they’re working, so you leave the place without inquiring any further about any possible reason.

Trudging home, you can’t help but wonder if you had done something for all of this to happen. There’s no way this day is filled with one unlucky incident after the other. There’s no correlation for this bad luck, you started your day as you do every single day. The only weird moment was with that weird woman, who just grabbed your face for no reason. But whatever she did, it didn’t work, you checked yourself in the mirror and everything looked fine to you, normal. So why does it seem like no one can recognize you?

You enter your home as the final puzzle clicks, and everything makes sense, well barely. A gasp escapes you at this revelation, and you almost throw your groceries onto the table, grabbing for your phone. With a frown, you open the front camera, seeing yourself, with every feature you know and are used to. Maybe the effect is similar to the one with a mirror?

You decide to take a picture of yourself, not focusing much on looking good, but rather on verifying your thoughts. After you take one where you’re sure your whole face can be seen, you open the gallery to click on the newest picture. But instead of a picture, you’re faced with a blurred mess. Did your hands tremble? There’s no way they moved that much while you took the picture. Still, you take another one, and another one, and another one. And all of them turn out to be blurry.

Chewing on your bottom lip you scroll further to some of the older pictures you have on your phone and they all look normal, your face still visible and clear. So there’s only one conclusion: only the ones you took today have that particular problem, so that means the woman had actually done something unexplainable to you.

With a sigh you put your phone away, driving your hand over your face. You screwed up, you accidentally messed up with the wrong person today, and now you reap the consequences. What are you supposed to do now? How could you even undo this? You can’t go to work if no one recognizes you, and you can’t just not work! You’re ruined, your life will be in shambles over a little mistake, this is so ridiculous.

Panic is running hot through your veins and you do what every sensible human being would do in such a dire situation. You take your phone and look it up, even if you don’t know how to phrase the problem properly. So it isn’t surprising when the first couple of hits you stumble across are different subreddits and medical pages about loneliness. But no matter how far you read into those, there is just no correlation between them and your current problem.

Thus, you dive deeper and you discover some shady-looking forum, all small font and 2000s style of blogging, in which you read a rather recent post.

Does the witch in that forest actually exist? Cuz I heard rumors, but no one has shown real pics smh. If yes, how do you meet them? Like, I wanna get some potions or stuff, idk

– i guess that’s one way to touch grass – that’s some witchful thinking LMAO – ofc, u just gotta go that fb page, there’s proof

Your curiosity gets the best of you and you click on the link, which turns out to be a rickroll. You don’t know if you’re supposed to laugh or groan in frustration. The only upside of this is that you had gotten some form of lead to… something. You’re not quite sure what the whole witch thing is about, but if there’s smoke, there must be a fire. At least you hope so, because it’s the only thing that could solve your problem at the moment. You’re pretty sure the woman put some kind of curse or spell on you, there’s no other way to achieve this kind of effect.

Naturally, you’re going to look for that witch now. You have quite some free time left, so maybe there is some upside to that too…

Trying to be positive about the whole predicament, you trade your current clothes for something more robust, something suitable to endure a visit to the forest. The place mentioned in the post isn’t that far from your living place, so you plan to walk there, getting some blood running to prepare you for the worst.

With a bottle, your phone, and whatever is necessary for your trip, you leave the building. Your phone in hand, you try to discover the fastest way to these woods to avoid losing time.

Finally arriving at the entrance of the forest, you decide to take the already existing paths, leisurely walking along them. And you have to admit it has taken you some time to realize something important in your current endeavor: there’s no way a witch is going to be living on the equivalent of a main street of the forest. No one would do that if they’re actively trying to get by without notice, and witches don’t want people to know where they live. That’s like, their lore or something.

This makes sense, and you nod to yourself, convinced by your own logic before you step off the path. At first, you paid attention to where you put your foot down, careful to not destroy any plants or to get stuck somewhere. But after a while, you simply forget to look at the ground and where you’re going. As a result it shouldn’t be a big surprise when one of your feet gets caught in something, you’re not quite sure what, because the moment you topple over you immediately begin to roll down a hill.

Scrunching your face, you brace yourself for the upcoming impact, hoping sincerely you won’t get knocked against a rock or a stump, breaking something or injuring you in any other way.

Nothing happens. Slowly the rotations come to a stop and you feel your back thud against the ground one last time, even if you still feel the turbulence in your head.

After taking a couple of seconds to get your head straight, you hesitantly open your eyes, only to glance at the face of another person. And for a moment you feel like nothing is real, he’s beautiful. Soft plush lips, slightly agape in surprise, eyes widened and sparkling in the early afternoon sun, and you need to look a couple of times back to notice the different colors, gray and blue, a storm separated from its lightning. His lashes brush against his smooth skin on one side, and against a burn mark on the other, as he blinks, trying to understand what just happened.

You immediately close your eyes again, hoping to fool him into thinking you had passed out, even if he probably saw you staring at his face like a fish out of water.

A slight chuckle, air fanning over your face, tells you that he is no fool. So you have no other choice but to take a breath and to slowly sit up, avoiding looking into his eyes with all your might, even if you’re compelled to look at him just a while longer.

Instead, you start looking around and you notice that you have fallen onto the edge of a beautiful meadow, flowers sprouting all around you, colors bursting underneath the late afternoon sun. The wind dancing between the petals. The delightfulness of this place fills you in awe, and it only grows bigger when you glance back at him, seeing the perfect man sitting underneath the rays of the sun, the wind ruffling his red and white hair playfully. You think about how it feels to touch this cloud in the afternoon sun.

That is until you finally register his gaze lingering on you. Your eyes widen in surprise and you can’t look him in the face anymore, once again. Nerves get the best of you, as you realize that he must have caught you staring at him and you fiddle with your fingers before you gather some courage to talk to him.

“Uhm, sorry for that, heh… You might be wondering why I’m here, and honestly you won’t even remember me when I’m gone, which is for the best I’m not going to lie. But I still wanted to ask, and I know it’s a weird question, but honestly, my whole day has been so weird, you can’t even believe it. What I mean is, do you happen to know where maybe, just maybe, where the witch of this forest is? I kinda got into that situation and I need help…” After getting everything off your chest, you take a second to take a breather.

“Oh, yes, I know where the witch is–”

“Really? Wow, that’s cool, rad, cool, cool! Oh, do you mind telling me? That would be awesome, for real,” you interrupt him, leaning forward in an outburst of excitement, once again just staring at his face

“No, I don’t mind. It’s simple really. The witch is here,” he answers, and if you’d known it better, you could have sworn to see some mischief glinting in his eyes.

But you’re too distracted, squinting your eyes trying to see anyone else in this open meadow. The witch can’t be hiding in such an open space, so you turn around to look behind you.

You jut your lips out when you couldn’t see anyone in the near distance. “Where? There’s no one here?”

The corners of his lips raise slightly. “Well, because we’re the only two people here, the best conclusion is that I’m the witch, is it not?”

You can only nod slowly, mouth agape and eyes roaming over his figure once again. Now that he mentions it, if you focus a bit on his blue eye, the one seemingly illuminating and softening his scar, you could discern symbols circling his iris, whispering secrets only he is to know.

It takes you a moment to bring these two concepts together, as this turn of events just swept you over in a cold rush. Even if you’re going to be honest with yourself, what did you expect? Some beautiful woman with long black hair, miraculously emerging from the waters of some shallow pond? This probably is your sign to read less fantasy… Does it count as fantasy if witches are apparently real?

You blink and push this thought away, this is really not the time to contemplate the structure of your world. So you take a breath, trying to formulate your thoughts more coherently this time.

“Oh, okay. Uhm, so… hold on, no, how am I supposed to call you? Because there’s no way I’m calling you a witch for, I don’t know how long, but that doesn’t matter… Uhm,” you veer off topic before just introducing yourself in the same breath.

Wow, you did amazing, you should pat yourself on the shoulder, because how can someone start at a point and finish at the wrong place? You bite on your bottom lip, slightly crunching your face. But the moment he says your name, the strain seems to melt off, you’re so taken aback by how elegant your own name sounds from his mouth.

“Nice to meet you, I suppose you can call me Shoto.”

With a nod, you do your best to memorize his name and to replace the imaginary picture of a witch with a replication of him, sitting between the flowers, and you’re aware that your memory could never truly replicate this look, this moment; it always be something faded compared to this, and you curse your insufficient brain capacities. Until you remember the actual reason you came looking for him.

“So, Shoto. I need your help, you know, as the witch, because, uh, I don’t know if you noticed already, but I guess someone cursed me? For some reason. Unrelated to anything really…” you laugh nervously and avoid his gaze “Like no one is able to recognize me, which is weird! I look normal in mirrors, but not in pictures? And, uh, see, I kinda need my face to work, you know? Is there something you could do to help me? You’re my last resort, pretty please?” You had hurried to explain your reasons for arriving at this place before the silence between you could even start, or worse, before he got the time to just stand up and leave.

He leans back and his eyes glance over your face, examining you, and you notice how the contrast between his eyes seems to grow for a moment; one almost glowing eerily while the other darkens to reach the depth of the universe. It feels like you’re in the presence of a supernova, a star about to burst by its seams.

But the moment he blinks with a nod the moment is gone, almost like it never was any different. At least he looks like he found whatever he’s looking for, the curse probably.

“I will help you. But in exchange I do need you to aid me in the time it takes me to break this particular spell,” he sets his condition and slightly cocks his head to the side, waiting for your response.

A wide grin splits your face as he agrees to help you. excitement thrumming through your veins at the prospect of working with an actual witch, and even getting rid of this problem altogether. But you still take your time to weigh the choices in your head.

You don’t really have another choice, do you? Because if you refuse, what are you supposed to do? It’s either you help him with his potions, whatever that requires of you, you’re ready to even give your blood for this, or you just suffer for the rest of your life under this horrid curse of unrecognition. Even if you have to admit that this condition of yours could be a real killer in the shady business of the underground, assassinations, break-ins, or whatever illegal activities they entertain. No one would ever be able to catch you, as you practically have no face to be identified by. If you only possessed more usable skills to pursue this potential path of corruption, but you don’t. So you only truly have one choice left.

You readily agree to his terms, on your own condition, you want to be able to go home at the end of the day. You’d like to enjoy your sleep if you involuntarily have to miss work. With the same reasoning, you promise him to come back tomorrow before you’re already on your way home. You hadn’t noticed how late it already was, because the meeting didn’t feel like it took hours off your day. But who are you to judge the sun for packing up a bit earlier, at least it’s still bright enough for you to walk on your own. And on your trek home, you see his captivating eyes every time you blink, almost being able to feel the difference in temperature, coals and ice, hot and cold.

They haunt you, no matter how often you shake your head to get rid of them. You do have bigger problems to concentrate on. But your worries vanish once you land on your bed, all washed up and in clean clothes. The short hike seems to have taken a toll on you, or maybe the revelation of the whole situation, as you fall asleep as soon as you could even think of sleep.

The next morning you wake up all sore, and you whine into your pillow, already despising the possibility, the simple thought of getting up. Yet you sit up and grab your phone to tell your boss that you’re sick. Which technically isn’t a lie, if something does belong in that section, then it’s a curse for sure, and it’s the best option to not get kicked out again, or fired for not showing up to work.

With that you pat yourself on the back for finding a solution to that particular problem, and for giving yourself at least a week to solve this mess. If it doesn’t work out by then, you’d have to get a doctor’s notice, and you honestly doubt that a doctor can diagnose you with this if they even can recognize anything in the first place.

One problem out of the way, you go through your morning routine to head out to start solving the main problem. You put on some proper clothes for this trip, and this time you’re not keen on not tumbling down a hill, and being aware of the hill in the first place will definitely make it a lot easier.

The way to the meadow turns out to be a lot easier once you know the way, and as a consequence, you gain fewer bruises on the way down. You’re glad for that because the ones you earned yesterday throb every time they get touched, even by the barest breeze. But you will survive this horrendous pain, everything to reach your goal of getting rid of this curse.

If only everything is as easy as you wish it to be. Because the moment you arrive at the border of the meadow, you encounter another problem: Shoto isn’t here today.

You curse under your breath while glancing around the empty open space. What are you supposed to do now? You can’t just walk aimlessly and shout his name into the darkness of the woods. That would be stupid, you don’t know what lurks in its insides, and you’d like to avoid disturbing the wildlife and him, probably, if he is actually living in this forest.

Should you just take a seat in the middle of the meadow? Would he be able to see you from wherever his residence is? Once again you curse, but this time at your inability to plan forward, because you really should’ve asked for some details, but for some reason, his agreement seemed enough for you to just up and leave. Now it is obvious how you didn’t think any of this through.

With a sight, you lightly kick the ground. After you take one last look over the meadow, you decide to walk up the borders of the open space in hopes of finding some sort of hint about his possible whereabouts.

It takes you some time to come across a small river, water glistening clearly under the sun. and you decide to follow it on a whim. Honestly, this is probably the next best thing, because everyone needs some form of water, and this forest has no lake, so the river makes absolutely sense.

The flowing water leads you deeper into the woods, but you can’t actually get lost if you just follow the river in the opposite direction, so you’re not really worried about that.

This decision turns out to be the right one because after some time you spot a cottage in the near distance. Surrounded by bushes and the ivory sparkles under the rays of the sun breaking through the ceiling of leaves. As you step closer, leaving the river behind, you’re able to see the veranda filled with all different kinds of plants in pots, hanging, standing, thriving. You think you can even discern some form of garden on the other side of the building, but you decide to stop in front of the door rather than visit that small space. Who knows how a witch is able to protect their place.

Before you even think about knocking, you note how this place doesn’t look like what you expect of a lair, but honestly, you don’t have any other visual than the gingerbread house, and to be fair, that’s a fairytale and as much as Shoto looks like he came straight out of one, there’s no connection between these two. Not that it matters, you’re certainly not a kid, so you doubt he would eat you, which is unlikable in the first place.

You raise your fist to finally knock on the wood of the door, but before your knuckles could even connect with it, the door actually opens, and you make eye contact with Shoto. You slowly lower your fist and notice how he’s holding a basket in his hand, eyebrows raised in silent surprise. For a moment you both just look at each other in confused surprise until he finally starts speaking.

“Oh, good morning. I didn’t expect you to be here so early. Come in,” he steps aside to fully open the door, inviting you into his home.

With hesitation you step inside, looking around as curiosity tempts you with its soft claws. A smell of a mix of herbs wafts in front of you as you inhale. There is a small seating arrangement, a loveseat, a sofa, an armchair, all resting on top of a soft carpet, inviting you to sit on the ground and enjoy some tea or read a book.

Connected to that space is an open kitchen, to which he heads to, and you hurry to follow his lead. It takes you a moment to take your shoes off, so you can’t help but follow his path carefully, too scared to accidentally disturb this calm space of his.

His home seems rather normal, but once again, what did you expect? Some kind of massive cauldron, some random stuff hanging off the ceilings, or body parts in a mysterious liquid? You should’ve expected this, this is just a normal cottage in the depths of the forest, the only exceptional thing, or person, is Shoto, and you don’t mean him being a witch.

Once you arrive in the space of the kitchen, he motions you to sit at the table, and you do, your expectations getting the best of you and waiting for some form of grimoire to thud onto the table. But nothing of that sort happens, he just sits on the opposite side, leaning his chin in his hand and just looks at you with slightly furrowed brows and a small pout on his lips.

You try your best to stay silent, even if the urge to say something is getting stronger with the second, but you withstand his piercing gaze resting on your hot skin. You bite on your tongue to swallow your question down. Especially when his eyes begin to emit a low light once again, all stormy weather, dark clouds shrouded in lightning.

It abates the moment he hums. “I see. Well, I guess I am able to undo this spell, but we both don’t know anything about the workings of the spell, it probably will take me some time to fix the proper counterspell. For that, I need your presence. Should we get started?” He leans back, his eyes glowing under the sunlight, but this time it feels a lot softer, less like magic and more like a fairy tale.

The next thought you have is filled with indignation because he just assumed you don’t know anything about the spell. Well you don’t, but it’s about the assumption itself, not the fact that you have no idea about this craft. So you can’t really say anything in your defense, because there’s nothing to defend but your pride, and it’s not worth it at the moment.

“Sure thing, but I have to let you know: I know how that woman put this spell on me, and… uh…” you start confidently, only to peter out, not knowing how to continue this trail of thought.

Despite that, he does seem surprised by that in some way, indicated by the way his eyebrows shoot up. “Is that so? Would you mind telling me?”

You almost think to hear some sort of accusation in his tone, but you have no reason or idea why that might be. So you just shrug it off before delving into a short explanation of the events that had occurred to you, until you recount the first meeting with him. Of course, there are some details you omit, because you’d rather not embarrass yourself in front of such a graceful person, because he’s a witch, not because you think he’s so beautiful you might turn blind if you look at him for an extended period of time, that would be ridiculous. Also, telling him about your fall is just unnecessary to the plot of this story, isn’t it?

He nods, eyes telling you that he realizes the omission, but he doesn’t comment on it. At least he seems like he understands more about the situation than you, simply from the description of whatever she had done to you, from whatever you had felt.

“This does help quite a bit. Doesn’t make the process much faster, just easier. Not that it matters, I’m qualified to undo this spell either way.” He stands up and begins to open the cabinets, rummaging through their insides before pulling out a notebook and a pen.

There’s no way this is his spellbook. The place where he keeps his most secret, most important spells. It looks like any ordinary notebook from the store, and it probably is, considering how normal everything looks. Maybe he has a special way of safekeeping?

You squint and stare at the notebook, trying to discover something hidden, but the only thing you see is how Shoto is writing some stuff down, the signs clear and elegant.

Only occasionally does he look up, eyes roaming over your face without sitting still on anything in particular. You doubt he could even if he wanted to.

And now your thoughts wander to the possibility that he would actually want to look at you, how his gaze would soften when caressing your skin, the sun sparkling against his dual-colored eyes, making them glisten with adora–

No, you have to stop here, or you’re not going to survive his presence in the upcoming brewing sessions. Healing sessions… Yeah, healing sessions, because he’s healing your hurt ego, getting rid of your predicament. There’s nothing else to call them. Uncursing? Spell Deletion? No, that sounds ridiculous. Healing sessions sound like some form of therapy, and being in the forest is kind of therapeutic, well, his presence sure is. Not that the name matters, you’re never going to talk about it with anyone, ever.

You blink a couple of times to come back to reality, only to make eye contact with him and your breath hitches. You do your best to act casual and prop your elbow onto the back of the chair but you slip and you have to catch yourself with a jerk.

A nervous laugh escapes you and you lean back, crossing your arms in front of your chest to get rid of your fidgeting. You avoid looking into his eyes this time, focusing on the fringe falling onto his forehead, red and white braiding into each other seamlessly.

He doesn’t even bother to say anything about what just happened and just goes straight to business. “Here’s what we’re going to do in the next few days,” he starts explaining like you just didn’t utterly embarrass yourself in front of him. “I doubt a counterspell will work without consequences because we don’t know the exact working of your curse, even if I have a good idea of it. Still, I don’t want to risk it, so I’m simply going to brew a potion, which will wear it out until it disperses on its own. That means we have to go out and collect some necessary materials. We’re going to do that later though, as there are some preparations I have to make first.”

With that, he closes his notebook and leaves it on the table as he stands up. He motions you to follow him and you leave the house at his heels.

Outside he pulls some sort of platter from below a table and hands it to you before he kneels on the ground in front of a pot in the form of a long rectangle. Inside it is a green plant, stalks spreading out like rays of the sun, leaves tiny and feather-like.

“These are Maidenhair Ferns, also called The Hair of Venus. They could have some effect on your current condition, but we have to dry them first for their potency to unfold. I’m going to take care of the cutting of the plant and I ask you to put them neatly onto the platter. That way we can continue our work at a faster rate,” he explains, his gaze only brushing over you before leading his focus back onto the plant in front of him.

You nod, even though you’re not sure he could register this movement with the way he’s intently looking at the leaves of the ferns. You still take a seat by his side and put the big plate on your lap, ready to receive the first leaves and stems.

At first there isn’t a lot for you to do, so you’re busy looking around, taking in the sights of the forest, enjoying the sun on your face, but soon enough you start taking the stalks filled with neat leaves and arrange them properly on the plate, trying to avoid stacking them as much as possible.

Luckily, he doesn’t pick that many plants for you to even begin thinking of that possible problem too much. With a platter covered with just the right amount of leaves, he finally turns around to face you.

“We need to pluck the leaves from the stem because each part is different, and will need a different time to properly dry. We only need the leaves for the potion, but I’d hate to waste the rest,” he murmurs, his long, nimble fingers already running along the stem of one of the plants, picking the leaves off with careful fingertips, barely staining his nail beds in the process.

You proceed to take one fern in your hand, trying your best to imitate him and to rip the leaves at the right spot and not rip them apart accidentally. Sticking your tongue slightly between your teeth in concentration, you manage to not destroy the first fern, even if the process has gotten a bit messy, your fingers turning slightly green. You begin to understand why people who garden have a ‘green thumb’.

You both work in a comfortable silence for some time, simply enjoying the repetitive motion. Before you even dare to think about standing up, you both make sure that everything is properly separated and not layered. Just then you stand up and follow him around the corner to some sort of backyard. You reckon this is the place you glanced at earlier. There’s a table standing out in the open, and he motions you to put the platter you were carrying onto its surface. In that position, the sun is going to dry them for you, essentially doing the work for you.

The moment your hands are free, you get the urge to stretch into the rays of the sun, your blurry, lidded gaze glancing over the edge of the open space between the bushes. And that’s where you spot it. A beautiful deer.

With a silent gasp, you blindly try to tap Shoto on the shoulder, accidentally brushing against his jaw in your hurry. Normally you would apologize, but you don’t dare tear your eyes away from the deer, much less make a noise, in fear of it disappearing without a trace. The doe, you correct yourself, as it lacks any form of horns.

“Oh,” you hear Shoto say softly under his breath, finally spotting the deer too.

For a moment you both just stay silent, not daring to even move too much, simply enjoying the mesmerizing sight of a doe under the shining sun, framed by the lush green of the forest. That is until the deer just turns around and jumps away like it just doesn’t care about you both just staring at it in awe.

You release a small puff of air, some tension releasing as you had been too caught up in the moment. Turning around in his direction, you regret even breathing the second you lock eyes with Shoto, his face closer to you than you had anticipated. It seems like you both have moved closer in that short moment, huddling together for some reason at the mere sight of the doe.

Your eyes jump over his dark eye to the lightning blue one, electrifying you like a summer storm, and you wonder if he’s gotten hit by lightning itself, resulting in these mesmerizing eyes, and the scar around that bright eye, the only blemish on his smooth, soft looking skin. Maybe it’s connected to his powers, to these symbols deep inside the blue, unreadable to you.

To avoid staring at his scar, your gaze travels over his high cheekbones to his plumb lips, and you could almost imagine them quirking slightly, the moment before he reveals a true laugh of joy out of his soul. This thought startles you and you immediately take a step back, bumping into the corner of the table.

A low whimper escapes as you double over, clutching your wounded side in a dramatic manner. At least now you’ve got a reason to avoid looking at him, to avoid getting lost in all these daydreams about him and…

“Are you okay? Did you hit a sensitive spot?” he asks, worry tinting his voice as he puts his hand softly on your back.

You nod at first before you begin to shake your head, these two questions colliding in your head, all while you try to ignore the possible innuendo. If you step into that territory of thought, you might as well run into the woods and bury yourself in some random cave, to never face him again.

The pain slowly abates after you take a couple of breaths to calm yourself down. It’s going to form a bruise, which isn’t that big of a deal, but you wish it wouldn’t feel like something had impaled your guts.

Straightening up, you show him a thumbs up, even if his slightly furrowed eyebrows and jutted lips show that he isn’t quite convinced. But he doesn’t look like he’s going to fight you over that, so his hand leaves your back. The spot is suddenly so cold, and you can’t help but miss the warmth of his skin, even through clothing.

You try your best to divert his attention away, and maybe yours too, as you look around, in particular to avoid looking at his face. You spot some form of wooden fence, probably a small garden, and you step in its direction with a craning neck to see what he could have planted there.

“Oh, is that a garden? What did you put there? Do you sustain yourself like that? How do you know what soil to use for what plant? Are these to eat or just for your potions?” These questions pour out of your mouth, the perfect distraction for you both as you don’t have to pull out some random question out of nowhere. And you’re genuinely interested.

He seems to have noticed your attempt at distraction according to his rising eyebrows, but he still indulged you and steps closer to the high edge of the garden and you join him close behind him.

With a soft voice he starts explaining the use of each herb, each fruit and plant, patiently pointing toward them, all while mentioning neat little details, like their harvest season, how picky certain plants are. And you can’t help but be captivated by his knowledge and the way he shares it. Even if you sometimes break out of the immersion of his voice when your eyes begin to roam over his face instead of listening.

Time passes with you both kneeling in the soft grass and inspecting the little space filled with love. You only notice how late it has gotten with the way your eyelids feel heavy, your gaze unfocusing and hazy. And as much as you’d love to just take a nap in the middle of the grass under this beautiful weather, you have to get home before that.

So with a goodbye and a promise to return tomorrow, you make your way home, the way easier to walk as your body starts to memorize the path. You could say you could find the way to the cottage in your sleep with how tired you currently feel.

It’s no wonder you barely remember getting ready for bed, much less going to sleep because your brain is practically already out of commission before that happens.

The next day you wake up with a satisfied groan. You’ve never felt this refreshed in your life before, and when you glance at the time, you startle, realizing why. You’ve overslept, you’re late for work! You immediately stand up, heart beating a frenzy in your chest and your arms tremble slightly. With a sudden rush, you remember how you had taken sick leave just yesterday, and you slump back onto your bed.

With a shaken sigh, you sink back into your pillow. You could have slept a bit more, but it seems like your internal clock was keen on terrorizing you today. And with that rush of adrenaline, you might as well stay up and get ready to visit Shoto today.

You take your time to eat breakfast and just enjoy the silence of your home before you make yourself ready for the way. You also check on the state of your food, in case you need to get some groceries. But you don’t, so you clean your place a bit before heading out.

And once again you step through the same path you’ve been visiting the last few days, and you wonder if it would inevitably become some sort of established path with the amount of walking you’ve been doing between the same couple of trees. Maybe you should start changing the route a bit the next couple of times.

You arrive in front of his door and this time you’re able to knock on the door before it’s ripped open, and you startle by the look Shoto throws out of the door, all narrow eyes and downturned lips, almost resembling a snarl. You hesitate in asking if something is wrong. His eyes blink before recognizing you, in the widest sense, and his whole face seems to almost soften. With no exchange of words, he steps to the side and opens the door for you to step in.

Mirroring the day before, he makes way for the table and sits down, waiting for you to do the same. And you do, because you’ve been walking closely behind him.

His notebook is already open on the surface of the table, and he leans slightly forward. “The leaves of yesterday still need some time to fully dry, so today we should go out and collect some other stuff I mentioned yesterday. Is that alright with you?”

You would do anything to get rid of that curse on your face, so of course it’s alright with you, and you nod to show him that. He also nods in confirmation before closing his notebook and grabbing a basket to put whatever you will collect today inside.

While he is doing that, you hurry to the door to open it up for him, even bowing slightly with a grin across your face and the moment he passes by you, you think to see a small smile on his lips, amusement sparkling clearly in his face.

After closing the door behind you, you follow him to take his side as he ventures deeper into the forest. His steps are purposeful, and you’re sure he knows where to find the target material. Still, you wish you could help with whatever he’s looking for, but you doubt you would be able to recognize it even if he told you the name of it. Despite that, you’re happy to listen when he starts talking, explaining what he’s looking for.

“I have some vague idea of what could help against your current ailment. Right now, I’m looking for a Bird’s Eye…” he trails off as he seems to have spotted something.

This revelation confuses you. What does he mean with a Bird’s Eye? Is he going to pluck the eyeballs of some poor bird? Is that something he usually does? He doesn’t seem like the person to entertain such thoughts. You want to ask him if there’s another way, but he had vanished between some bushes.

You swallow down the tremble in your throat and fight through the shrubbery to catch up to him. You emerge a couple of steps next to the spot he’s bending over. With some paces to place yourself at his side, only to see him hold some sort of purple plant delicately between his fingers. Petals growing upward the long stem to a soft point. A lavender plant… A Veronica… And suddenly you feel stupid for still assuming something without real proof. Still, you can’t help the relieved breath you let out.

Straightening up, Shoto shoots you a look, all hidden crinkles, and creasing eyes, almost like he’s making fun of you, like he’s amused at your obvious relief. “Seems like you had expected something else, didn’t you?” he asks, his gaze resting somewhere on your cheek.

“Uh, what else am I supposed to think? Telling me, ‘oh yeah, we need some bird’s eye’, doesn’t sound like, I don’t know, like you’re about to pluck an eyeball? How am I– hold on, did you do that on purpose?” you gasp at your own accusation. “You did! That’s so mean of you, I can’t believe you would use my trust like that!”

You pout slightly, even if you doubt he could see it properly, so you cross your arms in front of you to show your stance on things right now, even if you’re aware that you look overly dramatic. But that’s the point.

Your stance doesn’t seem to affect him, because you suddenly hear a light chuckle escape his lips, and when you glance at his face, you can clearly see how his lips quirked up in a silent laugh, all soft and delicate.

While you’re staring at him, you’re suddenly glad he can’t see your face clearly, because you probably look stunned, amazed, stupefied, and every other word to describe the way your eyes widen and your mouth standing slightly agape.

His eyes wander over your face, eyebrows scrunched up as if he wants to see whatever the fog is hiding behind that blur. Whatever he’s looking for doesn’t seem to be there, because the frown only deepens before he turns back to the flower in his hand, putting it carefully into the basket.

“These are the flowers we’re looking for. Do you mind picking some up?” he asks, already doing so himself, inspecting each one carefully to only select the ones most fitting.

You nod and diligently begin to pick the ones you seem worthy, collecting them into some sort of bouquet in your other hand. After a while, your hand is barely able to hold onto more, and you’re quite content with the look of your makeshift bouquet. Not being able to resist the urge, you tap him on the shoulder and hold it under his nose.

“Please accept this!” you say dramatically, acting like you just confessed your undying love to him, but you couldn’t stay serious long enough to wait for his response, especially after seeing his raised eyebrow. You burst into laughter. “Sorry, sorry! I just thought it looked like a bouquet, so–”

“Oh, so you wanted to offer me the Eye of a Bird? How romantic,” he drawls, his mouth puckered and eyebrows high on his forehead. Only the gleam in his eyes seems to betray his serious stance.

You nod with a muffled giggle. “The peak of modern romance, of course! You deserve nothing less than the best.”

He takes the flowers from your outreached hand and inspects them, acting too critical of your offering before nodding in approval. “I shall accept these, but only this time.”

You gasp, a hand over your heart. “Only this time? My good sir, then I shall prepare something more glamorous, something you can’t refuse for the next time!” you declare with a boisterous voice and a puffed chest.

Once again his lips purse in consideration. “Well, I don’t know if this is possible, there won’t be a next time, that’s for certain. You shan’t woe me this easily.”

“We shall see how this turns out,” you puff with arrogance, only to break down in little giggles.

The moment you break the immersion, he too breaks his facade with a broad smile, pearly teeth on display and eyes crinkling with happiness and mischief. With the breeze ruffling his hair he looks like the image of pure bliss.

His obvious happiness makes you smile, and you have to catch yourself before you let out a dreamy sigh. You have no other choice but to break the line of sight, lest you do something you might regret, especially with the way your insides feel all soft and malleable at his sight, full, ready to give something to always enjoy the way he seems to be in such peace. But you can’t give in, no matter how much your heart seems to plead with your senses. You should not do this, you shouldn’t even think like this in the first place.

So you redirect all your focus into picking the perfect flowers, paying close attention to the details. With that, you both slowly fill the basket, and before you know it, the evening sun is shining through the leaves, putting everything in a soft orange glow.

The full basket has gotten quite heavy and you both decide to share the burden, each one of you grabbing a side of the handle to carry it together. This arrangement is there to make it easier for you both, so no problems should arise. Even if the path you’re taking is narrow in some passages and trying to get through them together, side by side, his shoulder ends up bumping, brushing against yours more often than not. And every time this contact happens, you do your best to not flinch away or to think too closely about the warmth he radiates; avoiding leaning closer to him than you already are.

Finally, you arrive at the cottage and you feel like you have lost all breath in your lungs, most of it evaporating by the simple look at him, by the simple brush. Despite needing some space, you continue to help him carry the basket to some sort of designated space inside the house. And once you get rid of that weight, you stretch your arms above your head, hearing a silent yet satisfying crack.

Feeling the need to rest outside, even if you just were under the open sky, you take some slow steps out of the door, because you desperately need a moment to breathe without being scared of brushing against him.

That’s how you end up sitting on his veranda. The sun had already set and darkness is swallowing the forest, which is now filled with entirely new noises and movements. Despite the lack of light and the unknown biting at your toes, you don’t feel unsafe or in danger, rather the silence and the cool breeze have a calming effect on you.

With a roaming look into the sky, you notice the amount of stars visible against the deep blue of the night. Without any trees obstructing your sight and no artificial lights destroying their twinkle, you can’t help but be entranced with them. You’re so fixated on their beauty that you almost miss Shoto taking a seat by your side.

For a moment you both stay silent, arm against arm, shoulder against shoulder, knee brushing a thigh, and this time you don’t even dare to hold your breath. You feel the desire to lean against him, to feel his breath flutter against your skin. But you’re satisfied with this moment, with the way he seems to glow under the stars, giving him a halo of silver light.

Only because you’ve been staring at him do you notice when he stretches his hand into the sky and lets his finger connect individual stars into constellations. You squint, trying to see the lines from your perspective but you struggle a bit as everything is shifted, so you don’t even know which stars are connected despite following the way his finger moves.

He seems to notice your struggle, as he scoots closer, his front now almost touching your back, his head hovering over your shoulder to get down to your height. After settling like that he carefully grabs your fingertips and waits for you to pull away or to react in any way to show him your rejection, but you don’t. You rather marvel at how soft his skin feels against yours in that feather-light touch.

His hand leads your fingers to make a fist with only your index finger pointing out. With your hand like that, he rests his palm against the back of your hand, on your wrist. Positioned like that he slowly begins to show you the constellations with your own finger, all while making sure it’s visible from your perspective. While guiding you, he softly murmurs their names and the planets and stars, explaining everything and yet nothing, because you’re almost too focused on his breath against your face, the way his chin brushes against your shoulder, and you try your best to not turn around to directly face him.

After some time you do begin to relax and to enjoy all this information and the light contact. You end up leaning against his torso, his cheek resting on your head, and you both remain like that for some time, simply soaking in the presence, the silence and the warmth between you.

So it’s no wonder how you barely notice the atmosphere wrapping around you, lulling you into something peaceful and welcoming.

You only notice how gone you were when the sun's rays hit your face softly, waking you up with their soft kisses, and you can’t even be mad at being woken up like that. It is comfortable and warm. Still, the moment you open your eyes, you startle slightly at the sight of the unfamiliar, yet familiar ceiling. You slowly sit up and a patchwork blanket slides off your shoulders to bunch around your waist.

With a quick look at your surroundings, you realize where you are: the cottage. And with that realization you put the pieces together: You fell asleep on him, while stargazing, while holding his hand.

You bury your face in your hands, embarrassment flooding your ears. You hope you didn’t mumble, or worse, drool in your sleep. Or you might simply never look him in the face again.

Peaking between your fingers, you spot him in the open kitchen, silently working on something over the stove, his back turned towards you.

“Breakfast is almost done. You can freshen up a bit, I put some clothes that might fit you in the bathroom,” his voice sounds and you flinch, surprised he had noticed you being awake. “It wasn’t difficult, you made quite some noise.”

You frown, jutting your lips out. Is he reading your thoughts? Is that one of the abilities of witches? You sure hope it isn’t, or else he would know about everything that had crossed your mind in his presence… You desperately want to avoid this possibility, but it can’t hurt to try. So you think of something so stupid, so outrageous, he has no choice but to react.

I couldn't read the witch's handwriting at all, she always wrote in curse-ive.

You almost hit your own face with a groan, but you keep your gaze on his back, trying to see if this entices any form of reaction out of him. But nothing happens and you just sigh, even if you’re still curious how he had guessed your thoughts to that degree. Maybe you should ask him later…

A shrug and you stretch the last bit of heaviness out of your limbs before you grab the blanket to fold it and to put it neatly onto the sofa you’ve been sleeping on. It would be rude to leave it crumbled like that, especially after he put the effort to carry… you… For a moment you stop in your tracks and just blink blanky at the blanket in front of you.

He carried you… and put a blanket over you… He carried you…?

This realization hits you like a swinging bat and you have to bite on your lower lip to suppress a gasp. Your eyes jump to his figure, making sure he’s not looking at you, his back still turned towards you, and you slowly make your way to the bathroom, your joints feel like they’re locked up and creaking like a bad oiled machine.

Once you arrive in the bathroom, you close the door behind you and lean heavily on the sink. You feel like you just gave yourself some serious whiplash. So, with a deep breath, you begin to splash your face with cold water, trying to calm yourself down before you turn around to look at the clothes he had prepared for you. Holding the shirt in front of you, you decide that it will fit you even though it might be a bit loose, but you can’t complain about that.

With that you change into the fest pair of clothes, folding your clothes neatly. You don’t even take the time to look into the mirror to check how they fit, almost afraid of what you might see.

You leave the bathroom with another stretch and enter the open kitchen to offer your help to him, but he refuses politely because he already plated the table and there’s simply not enough space for the both of you to cook something without elbowing each other.

So you take a seat at the table, resting your head on your palm, content with just watching him being busy with the food preparation. He moves with a practiced hand, movements smooth and elegant. You can only observe as his surprisingly broad shoulders move, muscles stretching and filling his shirt. Your eyes wander over his lean back and you purse your lips the moment you see his small waist. You wonder if you would be able to put your arms around his whole torso, or your legs…

You inhale sharply, immediately averting your eyes to the window, trying to divert your thoughts to something else, anything but to look back to his direction. It’s a beautiful day outside, there’s no need to stay in the bedroom, or inside, no need to have any thoughts relating to inside activities.

Your gaze jumps around, looking for something to latch onto, but there’s nothing but the wonderful depth of the forest, which isn’t quite enough to distract you from the possible way his muscles could coil when he leans over you…

A bite to the inside of your cheek brings you out of that train of thoughts, and you’re aware of how you need something more concrete for your distraction, like that deer. But you could only vaguely discern some movements in the bushes and nothing really stepped out of the shadows.

The clatter of a plate disrupts your almost desperate search as Shoto puts a plate in front of you, and you can’t stop the excited grin spreading over your face at its contents. He made some waffles, toppings dripping down its sides and its smell luring you in to take the first bite. It looks delicious, an absolute masterpiece. And you can’t resist it, barely taking your time to thank him properly for his efforts, before digging in and letting the soft dough melt over your tongue. You close your eyes and you almost moan out of delight, the taste an explosion of pure bliss. Instead of embarrassing yourself like that, you just stuff your mouth with another bite.

And before you know it, the plate is empty, leaving you full, yet yearning for more. But you doubt you could even manage to get another bite down and just slump backward into the back of the chair, feeling some kind of satisfied drowsiness.

“Shoto, my man, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten. You got some magic hands,” you tell him and grin widely when he raises his eyebrows at your choice of words.

Instead of properly answering your compliment, he lets out a puff of air before beginning to collect the empty dishes. You immediately stand up, keen on helping him this time around, especially when you don’t need much space to do the dishes. That’s how you end up drying the washed dishes and putting them away in their respective places. Of course not without him showing you where they belong first.

With this arrangement, you finish doing the dishes at a faster rate. He’s drying his hands as he turns around to look at you. “I’m going to brew the potion today, or at least try to. Feel free to take a book to entertain yourself for the time being.”

He points to the huge shelf covering the entire wall of the living room and you gape slightly at its size. How did you miss that in the first place? Even if you have been distracted by a lot of things, this thing is huge, there’s no way you could have just not seen it.

You barely give him a nod before immediately stepping closer to the shelf, running your fingers along the spines of the books. So many different topics, genres and authors, and there is no way Shoto didn’t read them all. No wonder he has such huge amounts of knowledge. After you have taken a couple of strides along the length of the shelf, you finally choose one of the books and take it out of its place.

With it firmly in your palm, you go and make yourself comfortable on the couch. Once you’re in the perfect position you start reading, thumbing through the book about heroes and their powers, and your brain rattles with all the possibilities and the groundwork of this fictional world.

The background is filled with the sound of utensils clashing and clattering, soft blubbering of his potion, and after a couple of pages, you decide to take a look from afar.

He’s still in the kitchen, bending over his work, a slight furrow between his eyebrows, a thoughtful pout tugging at his lips. And you just look. Just admire the evenly split hair of red and white softly falling, framing his face, the calm demeanor revealing his kind heart. You smile. You can’t help but think, these thoughts filling your veins, coming from your heart, how charming he looks, how beautiful, how handsome. Despite being aware that this relationship is entirely contractual, the chance of seeing him again after this ordeal is slim, you admit to yourself, you like him, a lot. And there’s no way to truly know how he feels about you. To him, you’re probably just another person requiring his services, nothing more, nothing less, only bound by the verbal deal you’ve made.

This realization makes you smile bittersweetly, already accepting the outcome. So you try to get back into the book, to put your focus back on the ongoing plot. But your thoughts circle back to the endless ways this could end, the endless ways this could turn and bend. And no matter how badly you wish for it to end otherwise, every path leads to the same blocked path, a deal done, a face regained and a connection lost. Who are you to interfere with fate?

You force yourself to face it, to accept it, no matter how much your heart resists. It will hurt, but everything turns out to be how it’s supposed to be.

A breath and you begin to digest the story word by word, forcing yourself to take them in until you finally relax and get into the flow of the story and its plot, all while the background noises fade out of your consciousness.

You feel yourself clutching at your non-existent pearls as you near the end of the book when Shoto walks up to you, nudging your foot with his to get your attention. And once you look up from your book, he holds a cup with some sort of tea in your direction. With thanks you take it and immediately sip from the warm liquid.

“I thought you’re supposed to brew that potion?” you ask him, cupping your hands to warm your palms on the glazed ceramic.

“I was. That’s the potion in your hand,” he answers and the corners of his mouth slightly dip upward.

You startle at this revelation and almost let the cup drop. “Wh-what? You could’ve said that earlier!”

“How could I when you so eagerly took it from my hands before I could even say anything?” he chuckles and cocks his head to the side, eyes crinkling at your shocked face.

You gape at him and look at the half-empty cup in your hands, then back at him. “Are you messing with me? It feels like you’re messing with me…”

He shakes his head. “As amusing that would be, I’m not. You’re drinking the potion right now. It will probably take some odd hours to take full effect, if at all.”

Slowly you nod and just down the rest of the tea-potion in one big gulp. You exhale and the warmth of the tea coupled with the late hour begins to make you quite drowsy. There’s no way you’re staying two nights at his place, that would be just so utterly rude of you, especially if you’re going to lend out some of his stuff. That means it’s time for you to head home, as much as you’d like to stay on the couch and continue reading.

You close the book and return it to its place before you thank him once again and take your stuff. With everything in hand you begin your way home, the evening still young and the wood still filled with enough light to not get hurt when crossing it.

Finally arriving home without accidents, the first thing you do is change out of the borrowed clothes and prepare them to wash later so you can return them to him. And you start doing your nighttime routine, even if the initial drowsiness is now gone for some reason, but you’d like to be prepared for the moment you feel tired again, and maybe you need some distraction. If you don’t, you might as well go insane with anticipation, literally expecting something to happen immediately.

This anticipation fills you with adrenalin or something, because for some time you just walk around your place aimlessly, not able to settle down without feeling your heart race. You finally settle on your bed with your phone in hand, trying to calm down to the best of your abilities. It doesn’t quite work, because you realize you never asked Shoto for his number, you never felt the need to, and maybe you shouldn’t even ask in the first place.

You sigh and roll around, beginning to scroll through whatever apps you have in rotations, and you only stop to scratch at your tingling face. At first you don’t think too much about it, as it only itches around your mouth. But then the itch begins to spread over your cheek and you have to stop everything you’re doing, because you have to know if you suddenly have some sort of allergic reaction. After thinking for a while, you don’t remember eating something that could elicit such a reaction, so it can’t be that.

It takes you a moment to realize what that could mean and you jump off the bed, rushing to the mirror only to stop in the middle of the way when you remember that mirrors don’t show your problem with your looks. So you race back and dive for your phone, almost hitting your head on the headboard. You don’t pay attention to that though as you’re opening the camera, facing it towards you.

After you take a picture in semi-good lightning, you click into your gallery, only to see the newest pic and stare at it. There’s you! With every single feature you remember and cherish.

And before you know it, you’re already out the door, dashing through the streets and into the woods. You know you should be careful about tripping, but the need to see him, to thank him, to hug him, is overwhelming. Excitement is coursing through your veins, giving you a boost in energy and you feel laughter bubbling through your lungs.

Then you stumble. Unlike the first time, you don’t immediately take a tumble down the hill, because someone catches you right on time, long before you could even get closer to the ground. You grab their arm to straighten up and end up looking directly into Shoto’s eyes. For a moment you just stare at him, mesmerized by his glittering, compelling eyes, by the way you can so clearly see them despite the darkness surrounding you both.

His words bring you back to reality. “Oh, back so soon?”

“Wh– huh? How? I mean, yes, but how did you know it’s me?” you ask bewildered, shutting your mouth with some force before you keep it open when you remember that he can see your expressions now.

He smiles, plush lips revealing perfect teeth, eyes crinkling with obvious joy while roaming over every detail of your face, taking their time over every little feature; almost like he finally found whatever he has been looking for every time he glanced in your direction. One of his hands cups your face, caressing your skin. You lean involuntarily into his touch, enjoying the soft skin on yours more than you should have.

His next words make your heart beat faster than you thought possible, and suddenly a new path opens itself before you.

“My dear, I would always recognize you, no matter what.”

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