#like do parents actually stroke your hair and feed you soup

[astridthevalkyrie]

idk how one minute i’m like “my throat hurts I feel sick” and then in two minutes my mother is trying to force my mouth open to spray medicine down my throat and smacking my arm hard when I don’t open my mouth, like I do not get the instinct to hurt someone when they are sick I don’t understand at all.

#is being taken care of when one is sick actually a thing or just a myth #like do parents actually stroke your hair and feed you soup #because as far back as I can remember I just got yelled at for not liking medicine (as a kid) and I started making my own soup #and mind you I’m too old ig to be taken care of now #maybe it’s just the inner child that needs to heal #at this point idk if I could physically handle someone taking care of me I think it would make me nauseous

[youllallriseintheink]

Sammy and Jack. “Can we stay like this forever?”

Crisis of Faith, chapter 2

Sammy didn’t dream of Jack again until his next crisis of faith, and Sammy’s faith was very difficult to break. It had begun while Sammy, now a lost one made of fluid ink, was hiding in a wall, watching as a severely ink-infected woman raved.

“Mother, why do you punish me!?” she shouted as, with all the power left in her body, she tried to force open the padlocked doors of the women’s washroom. Her veins, prominent due to age and leanness, were a pitch-black web on her skin, and her wiry muscles had wasted away to bone.

Sammy had, on Joey’s command, overseen dozens of ink infections by now, and knew that there was nothing unusual about Emma Lamont’s case of it. Every single victim he had overseen had held some kind of delusion. Some believed that they were being poisoned by the government or their enemies, or that they were developing a mental illness. A very common one, however, was that they were receiving some sort of punishment, test, or reward from an all-powerful being- either God, or from a seemingly random entity that they’d decided to treat as one.

What if... Sammy’s beliefs were no different from this madwoman, screaming at the ghost of her mother?

Sammy moved on to check on the other infection victims. Even if Bendy wasn’t to be worshipped, the thought of ascension was all that kept him going. He sacrificed people on Joey’s command because the ink had told him to. He wrote his scriptures because he believed they were meaningful. He led the lost ones to Bendy and away from the lies their voices had told them because he truly believed that his voice had been the truth, and it seemed to give them hope, too.

Sammy passed  through the prison of ink creatures as he made his way to Joey’s sanctuary, where he now slept. A Charley was repeatedly banging its head against the bars of its cage. Lost ones wept. Ink stained every surface, making the brightly-lit room feel suffocatingly dark. Sammy was glad to phase through the wall into Joey’s sanctuary, where he could lie down on the couch and rest.

All this had to be leading to something. He couldn’t take it otherwise.

---

Sammy woke to the feeling of someone softly shaking him awake. He opened his eyes to see Jack, tears in his eyes and that disarming smile on his face.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” Jack asked gently.

Sammy, with a bit of difficulty, sat up and realized that he was in a hospital room, complete with an IV in his arm. He felt very weak, but also lighter- like a burden had been taken off of him. “Awful,” he admitted.

“Well, you want some good news? The ink is gone. All of it. You still have a lot of organ damage, but it’s nothing they can’t fix in a couple weeks. In other words, it’s over, Sammy. You’re gonna be okay.”

It took Sammy a half a minute to even process that. Once he did, though, he broke into tears of relief and hugged Jack as tightly as he could.

“Thank you. God, thank you for making me come here. You saved my life.”

Jack hugged him back. “Hey, I didn’t make you do anything. I know this took a lot of courage for you. And... I’m really glad you did it. I was so scared when I found you in your sanctuary. You were so sick... I thought I’d lose you. Sammy, I think I love you. But... we can talk about that later. Right now, you need to rest.”

“I love you, too.” Easiest words Sammy had ever said.

After a little more chatting, Jack left. Sammy wandered over to the bathroom to get a look at himself in the mirror. Admittedly, he didn’t look great. He looked like a person who’d narrowly survived a life-threatening illness, because that’s what he was. His skin was still pale and sunken, and he was still pretty gaunt, but the black veins, the bruise-like purple splotches on his skin, and even the staining in his mouth and his long, blond hair- it was gone. When Sammy woke, he would have given anything to see his human face again.

---Two years later---

As often happened whenever Sammy decided to play his banjo, a small crowd had gathered around him. Today, the crowd consisted of three lost ones, Jack (of course), a moderately ink-infected woman, and one of their last healthy men. The song Sammy was playing was "I’ll fly away.” He wasn’t singing it today, but he had sang it for his followers in the past, simply replacing the word, “God’s” with “his,” since “Bendy’s,” unfortunately, was two syllables.

“You know, it’s amazing how you can remember music like that,” said David, the only non-infected person in attendance. “I'm already forgetting the words to my favourite songs since it’s been so long since we’ve been able to just turn on a radio. How do you do it?”

Sammy would have smiled if he still had a mouth. “Well, a part of it is just natural ability,” Sammy admitted. “But. I have a secret to tell you. A part of it is faith. Faith can do great things. Collective faith in Bendy is the reason that we are the largest organization in this dimension. This village was built on faith. Faith keeps us united! Faith keeps us safe! And... faith allows me to to see into the old world every night when I close my eyes. I hope that all of you one day achieve that absolute belief that something in this world is good.”

“Heh. I’m trying. But all I have are nightmares of Bendy,” a lost one complained.

“Well, keep trying. Believe in his benevolence.” With that, Sammy got up and left for bed, patting Jack on the head on the way out. If only they knew that he used to be plagued by those same nightmares.

---

Sammy’s dream came in to form. He was on a bus, sitting next to Jack. Outside their window, snow was falling gently over a pretty,  snow-covered forest. For a while Sammy just sat in peace, holding Jack’s hand and enjoying the scenery.

“Excited to see your parents again? I know I can’t wait to meet them.”

Sammy nodded. “I can’t wait.” Sammy had always wanted to introduce Jack to his parents. He remembered that there was a strong reason why he hadn’t done it while he was alive, but he couldn’t remember what it was. “My Dad is going to love you. You’re a lot like him, you know. Do you remember why we didn’t do this sooner?”

“Because I’m a man,” Jack answered, totally calm.

“Oh!” Sammy had forgotten a lot about the outside world since his transformation, but nothing so big as the existence of homophobia. It was kind of alarming that the ink was affecting his brain that much. “God. I’m so... forgetful. I’ll just have to introduce you as my musical partner or something. It’s unconventional, but they've seen me do weirder.”

“You  know, Sammy, it’s like you got new lease on life after the ink incident. I love that. But yeah, you’re forgetting things left and right!” Jack teasingly jabbed him with his elbow.

“Yeah... Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” Jack said. Sammy worried what Jack would think, but looking into those calm brown eyes, he trusted him to not to react badly. And it would be nice to have one person he didn’t have to lie to.

“This is a dream. In the real world, I never got help for my ink infection, and now me and dozens of other people are trapped a dimension full of monsters. I’m holding a large band of people together by convincing them to collectively worship one of them. And you,” Sammy took a deep breath, “you’re there, too. But you haven’t had a coherent thought in years. I keep hoping that one day, we’ll make it out, and I’ll be able to confess to you and we’ll actually build a life like this. So... I’m forgetful because that ink is affecting my mind, and I’m happy because this world is my escape. And because you’re here, of course.” Sammy couldn’t meet Jack’s eyes. He’d probably just made himself sound like a lunatic.

Jack turned Sammy’s head to look at him. “Hey. I believe you. And... that sounds really rough. I wish I could help you.”

Sammy smiled. “Thanks. But you've been helping me all along.” Sammy laid his head on Jack’s shoulder. Maybe once the bus stopped, they’d get some hot chocolate and look at some shops before seeing his parents. It would be nice.

---

Sammy was violently shaken awake by a trio of searchers. More were behind them- as though half the village had crammed itself into his bedroom.

“Bendy is here!” one of them yelled. “What do we do?”

That was a good question. Sammy reached for his axe, but then he stopped. This was, according to the gospel he’d been feeding them, their saviour. “Go out to greet him,” Sammy instructed, trying not to sound as hesitant as he felt. “Bring him offerings of bacon soup. Bring everyone, even the Boris clones- they used to be human, too.”

The crowd of lost ones dispersed. Sammy watched with bated breath from the balcony of his lost-one village home as a massive crowd- lost ones, searchers, people both infected and healthy, and their three Boris clones- gathered along the ink river. Dozens of cans of bacon soup were placed along the river bank as an offering. Bendy stood on the other side of the river. Their drawbridge lowered, but Bendy decided instead to walk on the ink’s surface like the God they treated him as. The crowd gasped and made way. Bendy took an ink-infected man in one arm, stroked his cheek, and bit his face off.

Screams filled the air. People ran in all directions. Sammy was frozen for several seconds before he took action.

“Everyone! Run for cover! We have displeased him! I repeat, run for cover!” Sammy's booming, demonic voice covered the great distance it needed to. Upon seeing the people run and Bendy chase after them, Sammy himself slammed shut his doors and windows and listened in horror to the screams.

When it was over, all he could think to tell his people was that they needed to reconsider how they were paying tribute to the ink demon. If they changed their methods just a little, then the demon would be helpful instead of violent, and they would be freed.

To Sammy’s mixed relief, they actually believed it.

---

eleven years went by. Within the first three, every single flesh-and-blood person in the sketch dimension was infected, killed, or both, and became a lost one.

Their minds were rotting. Increasing numbers of lost ones struggled to remember anything about themselves or the outside world. Wandering aimlessly or resting in ink puddles, they were helpless as zombies.

But not Sammy. Sammy remained- comparatively, at least- as sharp as a whip, and told the lost ones tales so vivid about the outside world that they could almost taste its brilliance and freedom. Sammy only wished that Jack- the real Jack- could understand any of it.

There was nothing to do about that but what Sammy had been doing all along: keep the community together. Keep the lost ones moralized and sane. Figuratively and literally dream of a  better world. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Sammy didn’t want to forget a thing about the real world, but little pieces had fallen away, bit by bit. In his dreams, there were now places he couldn’t visit because he didn’t remember what they were like. His reflection in the mirror had become a human-shaped blur as he forgot his appearance. The same thing had happened to the faces of people he used to remember clear as day. One day, he would forget it all, too- just as everyone else had.

It was hard to keep hope.

One of Sammy’s dreams found him walking down a beach with Jack at his side. Sammy knew that the two of them had relocated at some point, but he didn’t know to where. His American geography was rather fuzzy at this point.

“Can I vent to you about the other world?” Sammy asked.

“Sure,” Jack said. Jack was one thing that Sammy’s memory hadn’t gone fuzzy on. Sammy still remembered every soft curve of his face, every freckle, every detail. His dark brown hair was starting to grey, but not because Sammy remembered him that way- it had been many years, and growing old together was part of the fantasy.

“Bendy came to the village again today. He killed a few lost ones and then left. People are losing faith in me and I don’t know how to get it back. And to make matters worse, a false prophet is going around saying we should worship the angel instead! She’d enslave us if we did that!" Sammy chucked a baseball-sized rock into the water, then composed himself a bit. “And you know, we’re all going to be mindless drones eventually. I’m thinking... maybe I won’t fight the false prophet. I could leave the village, hide in a vent, and spend as little time awake as possible. Ink creatures can sleep for days, you know. What do say? Can we stay like this forever? Enjoy this world until I lose my mind like all the rest?” Sammy took Jack’s hands and looked desperately into his eyes.

Jack hesitated, but by the look on his face, Sammy already knew what his answer would be. “I’m sorry. You know I have to say no. The lost ones need you.”

“But why am I the one who has to stay strong for them? I’m sick of it.”

“Because you’re the one who can. I know it isn’t fair, but you’re the reason they’ve been protecting each other. And it sounds like if you leave them now, they’ll throw themselves at Alice. Do it for them. And if you can’t bring yourself to care about them... do it for me. The real me. You still love him, right?”

“Of course...” Sammy probably would have done this sooner if he didn’t care about the well-being of his searcher friend.

Jack put a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “I don’t know how, but you’ll get out some day. And in the meantime, I’m here.”

Sammy tried to think of some objection, but he couldn’t. He muttered a “thanks” and kept walking along the beach. Jack followed. It was, if nothing else, a beautiful night, and he might as well enjoy it.

“Jack... tell me what I look like. I don’t care that it’ll just be something you made up. Tell me anyhow.”

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #Jack Fain #sammy lawrence #sammy x jack #my fanfiction #threadedsafetypin #thanks for the ask

[satan-chillin]

Spirited Away

Wei Ying, abandoned and homeless in the middle of a snowstorm, is spirited away by an entity that must have been the White Ghost.

He's brought home.

(Or WenZhou adopts WWX. The Fic.)

Also available in Ao3

❆❆❆

Wei Ying exhaled hotly against the cusp of his palms and shivered.

The snow had raged for days without letting up, and the cold did nothing on the itchy scabs of dog bites on his arms and the hunger squeezing his stomach. Wei Ying hunched into himself further. This would pass, though whether it was the snowstorm or the pain of his wounds or the hunger, he couldn’t say.

Carefully, he broke half of the molded baozi and then broke the half again into two; this way, the baozi would last him another three days. Hopefully, the remaining pieces wouldn’t be spoiled by then.

He was thirsty after a single bite that it took him to eat. Nothing filling, as usual, but it would be enough for now and something that sleep could improve through the night. The upside of having a snowstorm was the lack of nocturnal predators also hunting for food, therefore less to worry about whether he’d wake up mauled on the sidewalk. Curling himself into a ball in order to preserve what little body heat that he could, he prepared for sleep. He tended to sleep easier these days, tired and worn out as he was even without moving about much.

Wei Ying must have fallen asleep immediately that night and was quickly lulled into a dream because the next thing he knew, he could make out a vague shape of someone approaching him.

White. White as the storm of snow. Long white hair and robes billowed in the harsh wind. A ghost, Wei Ying thought immediately. He had heard of tales of a white ghost around the town, one that would eat unruly children who strayed out of their beds late at night. He used to believe that the white ghost had yet to find him, though now that he was found, oddly enough, he was not afraid.

Not when a pale hand reached for him, tender atop his head. Blearily, Wei Ying stared at the face and couldn’t seem to focus on anything else aside from the sudden warmth coursing from his head to toe. If the White Ghost would eat him, he wouldn’t mind as long as he got to be this warm forever.

“Sleep, little one,” came from a voice that was seemingly carried by the wind. “I’ll bring you home.”

Home. Wei Ying would love to go home.

❆❆❆

Wei Ying woke on an actual bed and with a man hovering over him by the bedside.

“You’re awake,” said the stranger with a tentative smile. He made no move to come closer, looking unsure the longer Wei Ying stared at him, the silence spanning between them. “I brought food.”

Wei Ying did not shy away from the tray laid before him. He took a bite out of the bread and drank deeply from the cup of tea. He almost choked if not for the man’s sudden alarm, gently patting his back and encouraging him to eat slowly. He reached for the soup before Wei Ying could, taking a spoonful and blowing before feeding it to him. Wei Ying obediently opened his mouth, delighted at the right temperature of the soup.

By the third spoonful, the man sheepishly brought down the spoon, murmured an apology, and asked him if he’d rather eat by himself. Wei Ying did not mind one bit, did not understand what the apology was for, and boldly requested to be helped with the soup. Something shifted on the man’s expression, his previous smile turning soft and sure when he assisted Wei Ying with the food, occasionally pausing to let him drink the tea or take a bite of the bread first.

“I’d get you more, but maybe later, once your stomach settles,” the man said. “It’ll hurt if you suddenly eat too much.”

Wei Ying remembered the baozi he kept under his robes, though upon touching his clothes he discovered that they were no longer the dirty ones he had slept in for as long as he could recall. The one he was wearing felt nice and soft and clean, something new and in the color of light blue with long sleeves that hid the bite marks on his forearms. He checked on his scabbing wounds and stared at them in wonder seeing as they were almost gone.

“A good friend of mine is a healer. He came by last week to take a look at you,” the man told him. “And Lao Wen made sure to apply medicine on them every day.”

Wei Ying did not know this Lao Wen—and what did he say? “Last week?” he asked, voice hoarse from sore throat. Wordlessly, the man handed him a cup of lukewarm water.

“What do you remember?”

“Snow,” Wei Ying answered. “Lots of it.” He frowned to himself, mind clicking on a significant memory. “The White Ghost came for me last night.”

The man blinked, a hint of amusement in his raised brows. “White Ghost?”

Wei Ying nodded eagerly. “It must be him because of his white hair. He also wears white. They say he eats unruly children who don’t return home in time.”

That earned him a snort, a grin lighting up the man’s face. He had a pleasant face, Wei Ying realized. “Ah, Lao Wen doesn’t eat unruly children, I assure you, not when he can be unruly as a child himself,” he said with a shake of his head. “He brought you here roughly three weeks ago. From what I understand, it was a long journey back from where he picked you up to here, and you had a fever during the trip.” He glanced at Wei Ying’s thin wrists peeking from his sleeves. “Ten days later, he arrived home with you.”

Oh. So this was the home the White Ghost was pertaining to. Wei Ying’s eyes darted around the room. It wasn’t cold here despite the snow he could see still falling outside the window that painted a night sky, and there was food.

“You’re in the Four Seasons Manor,” the man said as if reading Wei Ying’s mind. “Forgive my manners, my name is Zhou Zishu. Later, you’ll meet Lao Wen. What do I call you?”

“Wei Ying. My name is Wei Ying.” Wei Ying liked Zhou Zishu already for the sole reason that he did not ask where his parents were; he honestly had no idea. “Can I live here?”

“Of course,” Zhou Zishu said without hesitation, though his palm hovered uncertainly over Wei Ying’s head as if silently asking for permission. Wei Ying beamed up at him, inching closer to his side that had Zhou Zishu smiling. “This can be your home, Wei Ying, if you want.”

“I do!” It wasn’t as if Wei Ying had anywhere else to go, and it must have shown in his face judging from the flicker of Zhou Zishu’s expression. “I will help around, I promise!”

Zhou Zishu tsked amusedly. “Don’t make that promise when you haven’t seen the entire place yet.” He stood. “It’s better if you go back to rest, but I won’t stop you if you want to stretch your legs.”

Wei Ying felt the length of time he spent lying down on the bed through shaky knees, and Zhou Zishu was instantly there to carry him instead in his arms. Wei Ying automatically circled his neck, hooking his chin on Zhou Zishu’s shoulder.

“Right. You can stretch your legs later. I’ll carry you for now. Is that alright?” Zhou Zishu asked him. “If you fell asleep, then I’ll bring you back here.”

Wei Ying gave him an affirmative, liking the sound of that. Zhou Zishu swaddled him with a thick blue robe that was twice Wei Ying’s size before bringing him outdoors where the breeze swept the last dredges of snow. A firm hand stroked Wei Ying’s back comfortingly as they took a sedate trip around the manor. Zhou Zishu explained to him which was which, whose room was whose, pointing at specific locations. Later, he would let Wei Ying pick out his own room.

Wei Ying could not pinpoint what hour it was in the evening. It was quiet enough that he’d think only Zhou Zishu originally lived there; he did mention that he had some disciples and that if Wei Ying wanted he could join them once he recovered.

“But I already recovered,” he protested. “I can join them tomorrow.” He looking forward to meeting other children that he couldn’t wait to play and train with them.

“Not yet, brat. Give it another three days at least.”

Wei Ying pouted. “A-niang said my golden core is strong so I heal quick.”

“Golden core?” Zhou Zishu paused, thoughtful. “Your parents are cultivators?”

Wei Ying nodded. “They left for a night-hunt. They never came back.”

A frown creased Zhou Zishu’s forehead before a sigh escaped him. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure they were good people.”

His parents were never called ‘good’ by anyone who took one glance at Wei Ying, who was a homeless boy anyone would take pity in and promptly forgot once they crossed over to the next street.

“Do you want to be a cultivator like them someday?” Zhou Zishu asked.

“Maybe,” Wei Ying muttered. “I don’t know. Are you also a cultivator?”

“No. The Four Seasons Sect is not a cultivation sect. Not that kind of cultivation, at least. Though I can teach you its foundations: martial arts and the way of the sword, and help you develop your own body and spirit in order to prepare both for cultivation.” Zhou Zishu peered at him. “How about that?”

If Wei Ying couldn’t learn cultivation here, then that meant he would have to eventually leave and learn somewhere. Wei Ying did not want to, not so soon. His hold tightened, though Zhou Zishu hardly minded.

“Don’t overthink. You’re young, it won’t happen for years,” Zhou Zishu reminded him. “I’m a strict teacher, Wei Ying. I won’t deem you ready unless I say so.”

“Okay,” Wei Ying whispered elatedly. He would be a good student… or not if it meant staying here longer.

“And there’s also Lao Wen. He also teaches here.”

Wei Ying blinked at Zhou Zishu. “The White Ghost?”

“White Ghost doesn’t sound bad as far as titles go.”

There was a new voice from behind. The same white robes and the same flowing white hair from Wei Ying’s dreamlike memory. Like a floating ghost, he was quiet when he approached them, and Wei Ying stared at how the faint moonlight was caught at the White Ghost’s head.

The White Ghost pursed his lips at Zhou Zishu. “Isn’t it past bedtime for sightseeing?” At Wei Ying, he smiled fondly. “How are you, little one?”

“I’m good!” Wei Ying said, perhaps with a cheer that the White Ghost did not expect. “A-Shu toured me around the manor.”

“ A-Shu?” Delightfully, he addressed Zhou Zishu, “I see you already endeared yourself to the child you thought I kidnapped.”

“You—Do you even know his name before you picked him up?” Zhou Zishu demanded. He sighed exasperatedly at the shrug he received in return and the conspiratorial smirk the White Ghost shared with Wei Ying. “This is Wei Ying, Lao Wen. Wei Ying, that man you called the White Ghost is Wen Kexing, but he’s known as Lao Wen.”

“Wei Ying,” the White Ghost—Wen Kexing—Lao Wen—tested his name. “You have a good name, little one.” Delicately, he tucked a stray lock of Wei Ying’s hair behind his ear. “You can call me Lao Wen.”

“But you don’t look old,” Wei Ying pointed out. “Can I call you A-Xing?”

Wen Kexing’s laugh rang like a chime in the silence of the evening. “This little one is not shy at all.” He grinned. “I think we’ll get along really well.”

“He has a name,” Zhou Zishu interrupted. “And don’t encourage him to be troublesome!” he reprimanded. “He’s going to be a promising student of mine.”

“Aiyah, A-Xu, can’t he be both? Besides, he’ll be my student too, and I’ll teach him the ways of a proper gentry.” Wen Kexing winked at Wei Ying. “Would you like that, little one?”

Wei Ying believed he would. His father had mentioned studying before, though his mother would rather he play instead, so he never had the chance to actually sit down and learn, either alone with his father as his tutor or with other children.

He wondered for a moment whether this was also a dream. The last time he closed his eyes to sleep, he was alone outside the cold, freezing and starving and with no one to call; then he woke up somewhere warm and big and comfortable with two nice people, and more he’d meet tomorrow.

A part of him thought he might have been truly eaten by the White Ghost that night, though if he was, it would not be A-Shu carrying him but his quiet father who preferred smiling that private smile of his than speaking, and the one with the nice-looking face and draped in all white would not be A-Xing but his mother from his vague memories of her.

Maybe someday he’d see clearer faces of his parents, but not anytime soon when he had just committed A-Shu and A-Xing’s faces to memory and when Wei Ying started to picture himself growing familiar with them instead.

Wei Ying grinned excitedly at what tomorrow would bring. “I’d like that.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #shl fic #shan he ling #cql #cheng qing ling #mdzs #untamed fic #crossover #wwx gets adopted by wenzhou #wenzhou #wen kexing #word of honor #zhou zishu #the untamed #wei wuxian

[robo-writes-haikyuu]

Tooru Oikawa as a Father (Tooru Oikawa x fem!reader

Request:  Hi! I'm new to the fandom and Oikawa is one of my favs. could you do a Oikawa x f. reader Where they are married and have a few kids. (Reader could even be pregnant)Just some domestic fluff like Oikawa coming home after a hard day of practice or something along those lines.. It's totally up to you.You can throw in a bit of spice if you want to. Thank You!!❤ (I honestly think he would be a great dad. Fun & protective the kinda guy who lets his daughter put clips in his hair and he would wear them even while going out and he would gossip with his daughter saying stuff like "NOO, She didn't!! 😂 sorry this is not part of the request just a random thought. And this kinda turned out long sorry about that too 👉👈)

This is the purest thing oh my god 😭 I also 100% agree that he would be a fantastic dad, because he’s pretty much a big kid himself. I hope this is kind of what you wanted! I was going to give them more kids but for some reason it didn’t turn out that way. I enjoyed writing this, so I hope you enjoy reading it!

Pairing: Tooru Oikawa x fem!reader 

Words: 1.3K 

Warnings: tooth-rotting domestic/parental fluff, a hint of spice at the end 

You and Oikawa decided to settle down in Argentina, where you got married and had a little girl a year later. It only made sense; you wanted to travel the world, and Oikawa could pursue his volleyball career. 

You were trying to make dinner while balancing your two-year-old daughter on your hip and your phone between your shoulder and ear. You’d been stressed out becauseOikawa had been training extensively for the next league while you were trying to keep everything afloat at home. Luckily, your job allowed you the luxury of working from home so that you didn’t have to pay for a daycare or babysitter. 

“Who’s that, honey?” You whisper excitedly to your daughter as you hear the front door open.

“I’m home.”

She babbled and widened her eyes in curiosity. You put her down and carefully placed her feet upon yours as you held her hands above her head to walk her over to the front door. 

“Da!” your little girl chirped upon seeing her father’s beaming face. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he squealed, shrugging off his duffel bag and crouching down to scoop her up. She giggled as he nuzzled his nose into her cheeks, peppering quick kisses all over her face. You smile and wrap your arms around his torso. 

“Hi love,” he whispers sweetly to you as he tilts your chin up to meet him with a kiss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” 

You were always relieved when Tooru got home in time for dinner. Your daughter was a picky eater and he found the most creative ways to make her eat. 

“Quick,” he says frantically, swooping the cracker around in the air. “The UFO’s gonna make a crash landing!” She sits there with her mouth agape and he slips the cracker into her mouth for her to taste. She closes her mouth to register what just happened, and then slowly suckles on the cracker. 

Your heart couldn’t help but melt every time you saw the way Tooru was with your daughter. Even after an entire day of practice, he always somehow managed to muster enough energy to be fully present with her; it probably helped that he’s pretty much a big kid himself. 

She’ll garble absolute nonsense to him and he’ll respond to her as if sis is spilling the hottest tea. He’ll pretend to whisper something in her ear and she’ll erupt into a fit of giggles. She’ll try to do the same thing to him, leaning in and whispering gibberish into his ear, and he’ll let out the most animated gasp, inciting yet another round of giggles. 

You’ll be getting ready to go out and you step away from your hair products for two seconds. When you come back, all of your hairclips are missing. You walk into your bedroom to find that Tooru had all of your hairclips (specifically the sparkly pink ones) pinned all over his head, with tufts of his locks spiking out in all directions. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, while your daughter was on your bed pining the hairclips all over his head. They were looking in the mirror to admire his look, and he’d be trying out poses, adjusting his angles, and saying things like “the sparkles really make my eyes pop~” and “do you think mommy will think I look pretty?” You just chuckle and roll your eyes. 

That night after putting your baby down to sleep, you two snuggle in bed and watch a documentary on ancient alien civilizations. Tooru wraps his arms around your waist and tucks his nose into your hair to inhale your scent. You turn your head to face him and gently rub your hands up and down his arms with a sleepy smile on your face. 

“I’m so lucky,” he says, gently placing his lips on your neck. “I’m so happy I get to come home to you and our baby girl every day.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the lucky one,” you say as you turn around to face him. You cradle your hand around his face, tenderly stroking his cheek with your thumb. “My handsome king.” 

“Y/n-chan~!” A giddy smile sneaks onto his face and he bashfully buries his face into your shoulder. “Stop it~! You’re making me blush~!”

Even as a fully grown adult, this dork absolutely thrives off of praise. He particularly loved it when you called him your king; his ego would skyrocket every single time. So, you made sure to only use it once in a while or else it would go to his head. 

“I only speak the truth,” you giggle as you kiss his cheek. He continues to play up the act, coyly covering his face and nuzzling into your chest. You chuckle and brush your fingers through his hair, massaging small circles into his scalp. You could feel his breathing steadily relax as he let out a content sigh. 

“Am I a good dad?” he asks. 

You blink, completely taken off guard. “Where did that come from?”

“I worry I don’t spend enough time with you two,” he says, resting his chin on your chest and look up at you. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing. You always seem to know how to handle everything, while I feel like I don’t do much at all.”

When you decided that you were going to try to have kids, you were worried about Tooru’s busy schedule. You remember even back in your high school days when Tooru struggled with past relationships because of his challenges with prioritizing volleyball over relationships. When you two started dating in college, however, it actually surprised you how much his view on relationships matured. He always somehow made time to see you, even when he was utterly exhausted from games and practices. Not once have you ever felt like he was neglecting you nor prioritizing work over his family.

The thing with Tooru is that, as extra as he can be, he puts effort into the little things. He didn’t have to throw a parade or have jets write your name in the sky (although you wouldn’t put it past him). It was the good morning kisses, the little ‘i miss you’ texts, and playful pinches on the butt that were the backbone of your relationship. He always reminded you that he loved you and cared about you, so you didn’t need these grand gestures. 

You thought back to when you were pregnant. He doted on you constantly. Wacky cravings, he would try to find the most creative recipes that satisfied every single craving. Morning sickness? He would get up extra early and make you hot soup to settle your stomach. Feeling fat and gross? He kissed the grooved stretch marks and loose skin  on your belly, always reminding you how breathtakingly beautiful you were to him. 

Once your little girl was born, he was an even more doting father. He knew when you were too tired to get up in the middle of the night to feed her, so he would do it. While he wasn’t exactly excited about changing diapers, he was more than willing to do his fair share of them. Oh my god, and when your daughter smiled at him for the first time? It was as if everything in his life led him for that moment, when he looked into your little girl’s eyes and saw his own glimmering right back at him. 

You press a reassuring kiss to his forehead and brush his hair out of his eyes. “I wouldn’t have had a baby with you if I didn’t think you were going to be a good dad.”

He turns his face up to you with a devilish grin, a stark contrast to what you saw earlier. 

“You know,” he says in a low voice, bringing his lips to your earlobe. “We could always make another one.”

You bite your lip, “I have no objections.”

Not my best writing but I hope you liked it 🥺

Simp with me! 💗

#oikawa #tooru oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa x fem!reader #daddy oikawa #dad!oikawa #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq!! #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyū!! #haikyuu request #fluff #haikyuu fluff #fem!reader #happy birthday oikawa #haikyu #haikyu!! #robos requests

[leigh-kelly]

(More Hospital!AU)

The first days after Brittany’s surgery are difficult. Santana is used to being the one who tends to get snappish, but with Brittany in so much pain, it’s her turn. Every morning, she comes down stairs and a half hour later, she gets so frustrated by her parents fussing over her that she goes back up to bed and starts working on her computer. Santana tries not to get upset with her but she finds it so hard when Brittany isn’t listening to what Sue said, when Brittany isn’t doing the relaxing that her body needs to heal.

As much as Brittany is frustrated by her parents, Santana doesn’t know what she would do if they weren’t there. Even when they go house hunting during the day, they take Liam with them, giving Santana time to just focus on Brittany while Max and Oliver are sleeping. Though Brittany tries not to take the Vicodin every four hours, the pain gets so bad that she can’t even think straight and she cries out in pain in such a way that makes Santana feel like she’s going to be sick.

“Brittany?” Santana opens the door to the bedroom quietly, in case Brittany is sleeping. Instead, she sees her sitting up in bed, quietly staring into space. “Are you okay?”

“I just...I feel...Santana. I feel angry and sad and...useless. My leg hurts all the time, I keep getting frustrated with my parents and Liam and you. I can’t work, I can’t help with the kids...I just...” Brittany starts to cry and Santana sinks slowly down on the bed and picks up Brittany’s hand.

“Hey, Britt, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“I’m scared every minute of every day right now. We’ve both seen it on med school rotations, patients that get injured and get hooked on opioids. I keep trying not to take these pills and every time I don’t I feel like I’m going to die.”

“Baby, you had major surgery four days ago, you shattered two bones in your leg. No one expects you to be able to stop taking the Vicodin so quickly.”

“I know that, I do, but I just don’t know how to be like this. I feel like I’m on another planet, I can’t focus, my head feels cloudy, you’re doing everything for the boys and...it’s just hard not being myself.”

“You know I understand that. Just tell me, what can I do?”

“I really, really don’t know.”

“Let’s lay down for a little bit. Your parents insisted on taking the boys with them to look at this house, which I personally think they were crazy for offering, but I couldn’t talk them out of it. I’m here, it’s just you and me.” Santana soothes, helping Brittany lay back down. “I love you, Brittany Pierce. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. You’re my rock, my love, my soulmate. I’m here.”

“I don’t want your anxiety to get bad.”

“I need you not to worry about me, I’m okay. I just want to take care of you. You take care of me and worry about me all the time. Your parents are here, my mom’s been over, I have help. Lay your head on my chest, listen to my heartbeat. That always helps me when you do that.”

“I’ve always been so in control.”

“I know, but you’re hurt. It’s okay to let someone else take care of you.” Santana promises, stroking Brittany’s hair.

“Thank you, Santana. Thank you.”

Santana lies with Brittany for a long time. The house is quiet and just whispering soft words to her until she falls asleep is exactly where she needs to be. She’s usually the worried one, the one who’s convinced the worst is going to happen, so it’s an odd role, talking Brittany down from feeling the same. But Santana does it, she wants to make sure she’s okay, that’s all she ever wants, and though truth be told, she has been an anxious wreck since she found Brittany in the kitchen, helping her calm down actually calms Santana herself.

Once Brittany is asleep, Santana goes back downstairs and picks up Liam’s toys. She starts a bean soup that she read about in the Times and she slowly sips a glass of wine. She’ll have to go back to work in three days, but Pierce and Whitney are staying. They’ll be there for Brittany, they’ll help Santana’s mother with the boys. In all of this, she’s most grateful that they’re moving to New York. For one single second she can’t imagine how she would have handled the last four days without them. They love their daughter something fierce, they love their grandsons, and probably most shocking to Santana, they actually love her too.

“Mommy Noodle.” Liam creeps into the kitchen, using his softest voice since he knows Brittany may be sleeping and she needs her rest. “Gramma and Grampa are gonna buy the little house. They told me in the car.”

“Really?” Santana looks over to where Whitney and Pierce are by the front door, each of them holding one of the twins. “Was it a good house?”

“It was a really good house, it has a swing set and everything!”

“Then this is really big news.” She smiles, not scolding him for raising his voice in his excitement. “I think when Mama gets up, she’ll really want to celebrate.”

“When is she gonna get better?”

“It’s going to be awhile, Sir. Remember, she got hurt pretty badly?”

“I miss playing with her.”

“I know you do, but if she feels up to it tonight, maybe we can read some stories in our bed so you at least get that.”

“Okay, Mommy Noodle.” He nods solemnly, though Santana can still tell he’s sad.

“Why don’t you help me with Max and Oliver and then we can hear all about the new house.”

Whitney and Pierce are overjoyed to tell Santana everything. They made a full price offer and they’re just waiting to hear if it’s accepted before they get too excited, but it all sounds good. Santana thinks that Brittany getting hurt made everything seem even more urgent for them to get to New York and she gets it. If it were one of her children, she wouldn’t be able to be so far from them when something went wrong and all of that is just exacerbated by the loss of Olivia.

When everyone is done eating, Santana makes a bowl of soup and carries it up the stairs to the bedroom. Brittany is just waking up and Santana places the food on the nightstand for her. They both know that she really should be coming down to dinner, but the medication seems to impact her more than normal. It worries Santana, but she doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it unless it becomes a real issue. It has only been a few days, the anesthesia is still wearing off and it’s okay if Brittany is utterly exhausted.

“Your parents found a house.” Santana tells her softly. “In Massapequa, so they’ll be pretty close.”

“Really?” A smile creeps into Brittany’s face. “So they’re really coming.”

“As long as their offer gets accepted, then yeah. You’ll have them back around.”

“I know I freaked out about the moving thing, but you don’t know how happy that makes me.”

“I do. It’s going to be good for all of us.”

“I’m sorry Santana, that I’m taking everything so hard right now. I know that when you were pregnant I was pushing you to stay home even before you got put on bed rest, but I understand now why it was so difficult for you. I’m in pain, but I also feel like I’m...I don’t know. What if my leg doesn’t heal right and I can’t stand for surgery any longer? It’s a really scary thing to think about.”

“I know.” Santana kisses Brittany’s forehead. “I figured you were having those kinds of fears because I know I would be. But Meeks did a really good job, we saw the scans. You’re going to be back on your feet in no time.”

“It’s part of why I haven’t wanted to come downstairs, I’m so scared of putting pressure on it even with the crutches, or falling again. And I keep beating myself up for not thinking before I did this. My hands are insured, not my legs.”

“I’m going to push you a little, because you always push me. We need to start getting you downstairs, then out of the house. We’ll take it a little bit at a time, but I need you to do it.”

“I know.” Brittany nods. “I really do.”

After Brittany eats her dinner, she manages to get up from the bed on her crutches. Though Whitney had offered to put Liam to bed, both Santana and Brittany think it’s really important that they do it together. Liam needs his routine back, it’s clear from his aching for his Mama that he does and though Brittany can’t do bath time, she can sit on the bed and do stories. Once Brittany makes it down the hall to Liam’s room, Santana goes to get him. She promises Whitney that she’ll be down for Max and Oliver in just a little while and she watches as Liam scurries up the stairs, anxious to see Brittany.

“Mama! Mama! Mama! You walked!”

“I did, bud, and I’m going to try to walk a little more every day. You think you can help me with that?”

“If I was big and strong I would carry you right to the park and put you on the slide.”

“You would, would you?” Brittany laughs. “I don’t know about the slide, but maybe in a few days we can try to walk to the park.”

“I’m a few days, Mommy Noodle has to go back to work.”

“I know, but we’ll have Gramma and Grampa here to come with us and maybe push Max and Oliver in their stroller. How’s that sound?”

“I think it sounds great!” He claps, wiggling as Santana helps him get his shirt over his head. His arm may have gained a lot of strength, but it’s still difficult for him to do certain things himself.

“Come on, Sir, let’s get you in the tub so Mama can read books.”

Once Liam is bathed and settled into bed, Brittany lays down beside him and begins to read. After two books, Santana kisses Liam goodnight and slips out of the room. Her boobs are sore, still not totally healed from the mastitis, and she knows it’s time for the last feeding before the twins go down for the night. She retrieves Max and Oliver and brings them up to the bedroom, dressing them in their footed pajamas and laying them down on the bed while she settles against the headboard. Max is a little fussy, so she starts him first and once he’s latched on, she picks up Oliver and puts him on her other side.

“Hey.” Brittany smiles from the doorway, leaning her weight on her crutches. “He’s asleep.”

“Are you going to come sit with us?”

“I was planning on it. I’ll take a shower when they’re finished, if you don’t mind helping me.”

“Never.” Santana meets her eyes and gives her the softest look.

“Are you okay?” Brittany asks when she sits down on the bed and props her leg up on a pillow. “I haven’t asked.”

“I’m okay. Worried about you, but holding it together. As scary as this is, I’m not immediately assuming the worst, so it looks like the dosage on these meds is really working.”

“I’m glad. I really am.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me, Britt. I can handle this.”

“It’s a lot on you.”

“And you take a lot on with me every day. I’m really okay, I promise you that.”

“You’ll tell me if you’re not?”

“I’ll tell you if I’m not. But I’m holding it together, for you and these guys.”

“They’re getting so big, Santana. It’s unreal.”

“I know. I’ve watched so many babies grow up on the Peds floor, but it doesn’t feel the same when they’re your own.”

“Do you mind if I take them when you’re done? I haven’t held them since I fell and I just...I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to ask, babe. I think they’d love to be with you tonight.” Santana rubs Max’s head and feels that he’s done and hands him to Brittany. “Oliver has been eating more than usual.”

“Growth spurt, probably.” Brittany cradles Max close to her chest and kisses his head. “That’s good news.”

“He’s so strong.”

“He got it from you, honey.”

“I’m far from strong.” She shakes her head.

“You’re so much stronger than you even know. You suffered so much trauma and look at you, you’re a pediatric surgeon, you’re a wife, a mother. You should be so proud.”

“I just wonder if I’ll ever stop wishing for his approval. I never want to see him again, but I just think...maybe he’ll see me published somewhere, in a mainstream medical journal, maybe he’ll he like ‘huh, she did alright for herself.’ I know that’s stupid...”

“It’s not stupid if that’s how you feel. But you’re so much better than him, I want you to know that.”

“Thank you.” Santana smiles a little. “That means a lot.”

After Brittany cuddles with the twins for a little while and Santana puts them down for bed, they go to the shower. Santana had gotten a chair from the hospital and Brittany sits down on it as Santana helps her wash her hair. She knows that her wife hates to feel helpless and she usually defaults to caretaker, but Santana massages her scalp and shoulders, helping her to relax as she sits in the shower. It’s only temporary, they both know that, but it’s an adjustment for both of them and they’re learning.

Santana is surprised that after the shower, Brittany wants to go sit downstairs with her parents, but it’s a good surprise. She helps her get down the stairs and sets up her pillows on the couch so she can put her leg up. Whitney and Pierce are ecstatic, since they haven’t been able to tell her all about the house yet and while they settle in, Santana goes to the kitchen to make four cups of tea.

“You’re sure about this, right?” Brittany is asking them just as Santana comes back in the room. “You’re not just doing it for us?”

“We miss you, Brittany. We miss Liam. We want to have more time with Santana, Max and Oliver. This is a big move, but it’s for all the best reasons.” Whitney promises, accepting her mug of tea. “Maribel has been helping so much and we want to help too.”

“My mom will be really grateful for that, I think.” Santana smiles. “She loves having the boys, but some time off would also be good for her.”

“With the insane hours you two work, I’m not surprised.” Pierce chuckles. “We are going to have to go back to Boston soon though to get ready if they accept the offer. Are you going to be okay?”

“We...” Brittany looks at Santana, who nods. “Yes, we will. But...Liv’s stuff.”

“We’ll bring it all, you can go through it when you’re ready.”

“We’ll pay for the extra cost of moving.” Santana offers, but Whitney rolls her eyes.

“It’s nothing. We wouldn’t throw it out anyway, we just want you to have your pick of her things, Brittany.”

“I know.” Brittany nods, a sad look in her eyes. “It’s mostly for Liam.”

“It’s okay for you to want things for you too.”

Brittany gets really quiet. Santana knows that it’s nearly impossible for her to talk about Olivia because she’s spent so long compartmentalizing her grief, so she just takes her hand and squeezes it. Knowing his daughter as well as he does, Pierce changes the subject and starts talking about how he’s going to put a swing set in the yard for the boys and the light comes back to Brittany’s eyes.

They spend much longer than Santana expected downstairs and she’s glad for that. It seems to do Brittany good, seems to get her out of that funk that Santana knows all too well. Whitney and Pierce go to the guest room and Santana helps Brittany back upstairs—she really has no idea how she does those stairs on crutches. It’s clear when they get into the bedroom that Brittany is in a considerable amount of pain and she is clearly conflicted about whether or not to take a pill.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just felt really good being out of that Vicodin fog. But my leg hurts like hell.”

“It’ll help you sleep, Brittany. In the morning, see if you can go without it for a few hours.”

“I just wish the pain would stop. I don’t understand why—“ Brittany stops short and a look of guilt crosses her face.

“You can say it, you don’t understand how people have elective surgery.”

“I didn’t mean you.”

“I know.” Santana shakes her head a little. “It’s okay. Looking back, you know I wouldn’t have done it either. My last surgery...”

“It was to stop the pain and make you feel okay in your own body. I don’t consider that elective.”

“But maybe that’s how other people feel too, when they go under the knife. They just want to feel a certain way.”

“Are you, Santana Lopez, defending plastic surgery?” Brittany chuckles and opens her pill bottle.

“I just have been thinking about when I was a teenager. I wanted so bad to be something I wasn’t. I wanted to be straight. I wanted my father to love me. I would have given anything for that.”

“Do you think Liam will feel that way? The first thing, not the second.”

“I think it’s different with Liam. We’re raising him to love who he is. But I don’t know. I just don’t know what my answer would be if he told us he wanted to change how he looked.”

“I would want him to wait until he was eighteen. I don’t think I could sign the consent forms for him.”

“I agree with that.” Santana nods. “After what my father did to me, I just...couldn’t.”

“You know you’re not him, right?”

“I know, I do, rationally, but I fear it every day. I’ve told you before, I wonder if he was ever kind to my mother, if he loved me when I was small. I just can’t think that maybe one day I’ll snap too.”

“You won’t.” Brittany shakes her head. “I know you won’t.”

“I’ve read so many studies on victims of abuse and trauma.”

“I know you have and you’re aware. Santana, the way you love our sons, there’s no way you’ll ever be any different. I never would have chosen you to be Liam’s mom, no way I would have had more children with you if I thought any different.”

“You have so much faith in me.”

“You’re the love of my life. You have the best heart of anyone I know. I believe in you.”

“You’re going to make me cry.”

“It’s okay if you cry.” Brittany swallows her pill and takes Santana’s hand. “It’s been a tough week.”

“I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

“Oh honey, so am I.”

Santana wakes up the next morning to Brittany sitting up beside her. She’d fed the boys at around four, so they’re still asleep and Brittany is reading the journal that was beside the bed. Running her fingers through her hair, Santana sits up, careful, as she’s bred, not to jostle the bed and disturb Brittany’s leg. Brittany looks over at her and gives her the softest smile, her special smile, and Santana’s eyes crinkle as she smiles in return.

“I can’t believe Liam isn’t up yet.” Santana marvels, leaning over to kiss Brittany.

“Oh, he is. My mom came up and got him and they’re going to the park. You were in such a deep sleep when she came in to tell me.”

“I think my body needed it. Have you been up long?”

“About a half hour. I wanted you to sleep in, I know the boys had you up half the night.”

“I don’t know when they’re going to start sleeping through the night. I feel like keeping them in here and letting them smell me is just hindering the process.”

“You know the decision is up to you when we move them to their room.” Brittany reminds her gently, looking over to where the twins sleep.

“I know, and I’m dragging my feet about it. I just worry about Oliver. I want to know if anything goes wrong.”

“We have those socks we got at the shower.”

“The socks that say they’re not for medical purposes?”

“It’s still an alarm. If something goes wrong, we’ll know.”

“I guess.” Santana sighs. “I know we should do it, I really do.”

“I do mean it when I say only if you’re ready.”

“I know you do. But if we wait until I’m ready, it might be never. I just...I don’t know.”

“Hey.” Brittany shifts her body as much as she can so she’s facing Santana. “That’s okay.”

“You’re so good to me you know. Even when you’re hurt, you’re still just so sweet and gentle with me.”

“I’m always going to be that way, I promise.”

After another three days pass, Brittany is itching to work from home. She has scheduling and consults she can do over the phone and she begs Sue for permission. Probably knowing there is little she can do to stop her, Sue grants her request and on the day Santana goes back to the hospital, Brittany is set up in the home office with her foot on a chair and her computer and phone in front of her. Santana kisses her goodbye, makes her promise that she won’t work through too much pain and goes to work.

In Santana’s absence, Dr. Zises has started and almost immediately, Santana feels the competition rise up. She hasn’t competed for surgeries since she was an intern and it’s not like that’s about to start, but having another young attending on her floor makes Santana feel like she has to step up her game. Being out for a week, of course, put her behind, but she’s got a slate of surgeries ahead of her and she dives in headfirst, putting her worries about Brittany out of her mind.

While she’s eating lunch in her office, Kurt comes in. She feels bad, she’s been neglecting him since Max and Oliver were born, but it’s different with Mercedes. Mercedes likes being around kids and Kurt simply...doesn’t. He’s one of her best friends, but she finds it hard to balance her relationship with him when so much of her life is about Liam, Max, and Oliver.

“How’s she doing?” Kurt asks, sitting down and opening his salad.

“She’s good, actually. The first few days were hard, but she’s working from home now and she’s dealing much better.”

“Dave was going to stop by while I was at work the other day, but we just felt..weird.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, things aren’t like they used to be.”

“I know.” Santana sighs. “My life is really different.”

“I hope you know I’m happy for you. It’s not the life I want, but it suits you.”

“You know you’re still a big part of my life, Kurt. Just because I don’t go to the bar anymore after work doesn’t mean I don’t still want to spend time with you.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. You’re just...doing your thing.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me right now.” Santana sucks in air, feeling rage bubble up in here chest. “Doing my thing? I had a traumatic birth, one of my sons is developmentally delayed, I suffered a pretty nasty case of postpartum depression, my wife had surgery. I’m not doing my thing, I’m trying to keep my head above water. I’m sorry that I don’t have the time I used to, but I’m not going to apologize for being who I am now.”

“No one said you had to.”

“Well it sure as hell sounded like that’s what you wanted. I’ve had a hell of a week and I thought I was going to be able to relax and enjoy lunch with you.”

“I didn’t say we couldn’t.”

“You’re being really...I don’t even know right now. Don’t veil your issues with me. What am I supposed to do, Kurt? I invite you over and you always find an excuse not to come. I know you’re not into my kids, but they’re part of me.”

“I never said I wasn’t into your kids.”

“You don’t have to say it.” Santana huffs. “Look, I don’t need this right now.”

“I’m literally not doing anything.”

“Get out of my office.”

After Kurt leaves, Santana is in a fury. Maybe in a normal week, she wouldn’t have taken things so much to heart—or maybe she would, she tends to do that—but with everything going on with Brittany, everything that’s gone on in her life for the past months, she’s past rational thinking. Instead, she gets increasingly mad at one of her best friends because she feels like her life is an affront to him. Things were easy with them when her whole life was the hospital and she went out drinking every night, but things are harder now. She hates to go out, she’s afraid to leave Max and Oliver when she doesn’t have to, she wants to spend time with Liam, she wants to be in her pajamas with Brittany. Maybe it makes her a shitty friend, she doesn’t know, but somehow things have remained the same with Mercedes.

The rest of the day drags. She checks in the Brittany who tells her she’s taking a break from work to lay down for a little while. She checks in with her mom who took the boys out for the afternoon so Brittany could have quiet and Whitney and Pierce could meet with their realtor. Everything is fine, but still, she aches to get home. And when finally, she finishes her last surgery, she’s out the door more quickly than she’s ever been before.

She smells her mom’s enchiladas when she walks in the door and it gives her such relief that she doesn’t have to cook. She hugs her Liam, she kisses the twins and she goes upstairs to gently wake Brittany up from her nap. Together, they go downstairs for dinner and Santana holds in all of her anger toward Kurt until the meal is eaten and cleaned up, Liam is asleep and she’s sitting on the bed fresh from a shower holding Max and Oliver while they nurse. She knows Brittany can see the day written across her face and Santana just inhaled deeply.

“According to Kurt Hummel, I’ve been spending the past few months just doing my thing.”

“What?” Brittany tilts her head to the side. “What did he mean by that?”

“I have no idea. I guess that I’m unavailable to do stupid shit, I don’t know. He care by my office for lunch today and we had a big fight.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, no, I don’t know. It’s just like, what am I supposed to do, Brittany? He doesn’t want to come over here much because of the kids, I don’t want to go out and leave them when we’re gone all day. And he made me feel pretty shitty that I’m not who I used to be.”

“And how do you feel about changing?”

“I feel like...I wasn’t happy with my life back then. Yeah, I had fun going out to the bar but at the end of the night I’d come home all dark and twisty inside. I don’t feel like me changing is me being a dick and ditching all my friends because I’m in love, it’s because I’m growing and healing and the things I used to enjoy just aren’t for me anymore.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“No.” Santana sighs. “I just got really mad and pretty much told him that he has no idea what my life has been like.”

“That’s fair. But maybe you should tell him what you just told me. He loves you, honey. He might be a little misguided at times but he wants you to have the best life.”

“He wants it on his own terms.”

“I don’t think he does. I know it’s hard that he’s not all about the boys like Mercedes is but I think he’s genuinely happy for you.”

“I guess. I don’t know, it’s hard. I used to envision like, me Kurt and Mercedes in the old folks home for retired doctors or something and then you came along and my whole vision of the future changed.”

“And that’s okay.” Brittany kisses her temple. “That doesn’t mean you have to give up your friends.”

“Was I an asshole?”

“I don’t think you were, I think you’re just very guarded and he surprised you. And if you want a night to just go hang out at the bar with them, that’s okay.”

“That’s the thing though, Britt, I don’t. I want to be home at night to put the boys to bed, to fall asleep with you.”

“Then I think you should find some kind of middle ground with him.”

“I guess you’re right. But can I stay mad at him a little longer?”

“You absolutely can.”

#brittana #hospital!au #piece by piece

[deku-leaf]

virus - part 2 - “c’mere” - tododeku fic

summary: after izuku is hit with a quirk that makes him feel really sick, todoroki takes care of him while learning how exactly to comfort another human being

warnings: fluff, whump, mention of endeavor’s parenting, and a little bit of puke

word count: 2,375

author’s note: writing this made me so SOFT i hope others enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!!

part 1

--

Shouto mentally curses every pothole they hit on the ride back to the dorms.

Shifting in his seat, he looks down again at the mop of messy green curls that rests in his lap. Midoriya’s face is impossibly pale, and though he’s asleep, his face flinches with pain at every slight bump in the road. Shouto slowly brings his hand to rest on the far side of his friend’s head, and pulls him closer as gently as possible. He lightly presses Midoriya’s head against his stomach, cradling it with his arms ever so slightly. This probably doesn’t help with the bumpiness of the ride, but it’ll prevent Izuku’s head from bouncing so much. 

They reach the dorms in about 20 minutes, but it feels like much longer with his best friend suffering in his lap. Aizawa pulls into a parking spot and steps away from the car with a “Wait here.” Shouto glances back down at Midoriya and is surprised to see his friend’s eyes already open, seemingly alert. Shouto blinks.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Since the first pothole,” Midoriya breathes. He calmly yet quickly sits up, slides over to the other passenger door, and exits the vehicle. Shouto sits alone in the car for a moment. Midoriya seems to be doing surprisingly well for someone who immediately passed out upon standing just half an hour ago. Maybe the villain’s quirk is wearing off already? 

Then, Shouto hears the unmistakable sound of retching from outside.

He’s out of the car in an instant, eyes quickly narrowing at the feeble form of Izuku Midoriya vomiting into a nearby bush. He’s whiteknuckling the guardrail that surrounds the well-maintained shrubbery as if it’s the only thing keeping him standing -- which is probably true, Shouto notes. 

It’s a couple minutes until Midoriya is finished. Shouto keeps his distance for the duration of the event, partially because he doesn’t want to embarrass his friend by giving any unwanted attention, and partially because he has never seen anyone throw up besides himself and doesn’t know how to approach the situation. He has a feeling that there’s some sort of protocol he’s forgetting. Is he supposed to say something? Comfort his friend somehow?

A memory surfaces from the depths of Shouto’s brain. His five-year-old self retching on the floor of his father’s training room after a punch to the gut. His mother crouching at his side, resting a firm hand on his back as he wiped the tears and saliva from his face. Her gentle, soothing hand stroking his back and hair as he recovered. 

“He’s only five years old!”

Shouto suddenly finds himself crouching next to Midoriya, who has lowered shakily to his knees, still tightly holding the guardrail above his head. Shouto says nothing, but rests his palm on Midoriya’s back and begins dragging his hand up and down. Is this right? Shouto has never done anything like this to another person. But he’s pet cats before, so maybe that was similar? Izuku’s eyes close and the tension in his shoulders seems to relax slightly. Maybe this is right.

Shouto’s hand finds Midoriya’s hair, and he gently brushes it back from his friend’s damp forehead, the way his mother used to do for him. At this, Midoriya opens his eyes and turns to look at Shouto. Was that too much? That was probably too much. Midoriya’s tired, miserable eyes are searching his face and Shouto lowers his hand back to his lap, meeting his friend’s gaze yet not knowing what to say. 

Aizawa’s voice breaks the loaded silence. 

“Oh, he’s awake.” Aizawa is approaching the two of them with a wheelchair. “What do you think, Midoriya, will we be needing this?”

Midoriya’s eyes widen at the wheelchair. “I’ll- I’ll try to walk,” he says, using the handrail to pull himself up to stand. His lips are pursed in determination as he walks towards Aizawa, one hand still on the rail for support. Shouto rises as Midoriya passes him, trying to forget the embarrassment of running his hand through his sick friend’s hair. That was probably a more intimate form of comfort than their relationship and situation warranted. Shouto notes mentally that hair-touching is possibly inappropriate between friends, no matter how soft your friend’s hair is.

The journey to Midoriya’s room is a long one. At least, the first half. After needing to stop to catch his breath four times in five minutes, Midoriya reluctantly consents to using the wheelchair, and allows Aizawa to wheel him the rest of the way. As the three of them reach the elevator, Aizawa pauses. 

“Todoroki. Can you grab some things for Midoriya from the kitchen? Some lunch and water? I grabbed medicine from the nurse’s office, but Recovery Girl said he should only take it with food.”

Shouto nods, immediately turning away from the elevator as it opens. “I’ll be right back,” he says.

-

The moment Aizawa closes the door of the dorm room, leaving Izuku alone in his bed to rest, Izuku buries his face in the pillow beneath him and groans. His entire body is aching, and his heart is pounding laboriously in his chest. His lungs hurt with each breath he takes, and his headache is only getting worse. He knows he needs to sleep, but he can’t imagine getting any quality rest feeling like this. Hopefully the medicine helps.

Izuku glances at the bottle of medicine Aizawa had placed on the bedside table. He’s not supposed to take it until he has food. Todoroki will be here soon with some lunch.

A pang of guilt twinges Izuku’s insides. Todoroki has been so kind this whole morning, but it’s clear that the situation is making him uncomfortable. Izuku will be sure to excuse Todoroki as soon as possible. He’s already done more than enough to help, and Izuku would rather go through this alone than force his friend to watch him suffer. 

Izuku’s brain resurfaces the memory of Todoroki gently brushing Izuku’s hair back from his forehead, fingers lingering much longer than the gesture warranted. That was extremely out of character for Todoroki, and he looked just as surprised by the action as Izuku had felt. Izuku’s lips twitch upwards in a small smile as he considers his friend’s reasoning. Todoroki probably had no clue what to do to comfort him in the moment, and was grasping at straws. Still, for his first move to be running his hand through Izuku’s hair...Izuku’s stomach flutters briefly when he realizes it had comforted him. The feeling of Todoroki’s hand in his hair had brought a warm feeling to his chest, especially when he turned to meet his friend’s wide, sparkling eyes and had to catch his breath-

A small knock at the door pulls Izuku from his thoughts. His body flinches in surprise, and he stifles another groan as his head throbs at the sudden movement. “Come in,” he mumbles, and immediately clears his throat because oh my god my voice sounds like I lost a screaming match against Present Mic. 

The door opens slowly and Todoroki ducks inside quietly. He’s holding a tray of food and has a bag slung over his shoulder. He leans his back against the door carefully to shut it. He raises his head and meets Izuku’s eyes in the dark. The weight of things unspoken creeps back into the distance between them. Todoroki lowers his head again and clears his throat, moving swiftly to close the distance.

“I brought soup. And some water, and snacks for later.” He places the food tray gingerly on the bedside table and slides the bag down his arm to the floor next to Izuku’s bed.

“Thank you,” Izuku says quietly, grabbing for the soup bowl immediately. While he begins eating, Todoroki has grabbed the medicine bottle and is squinting to inspect the instructions in the darkness. Izuku would tell him to go ahead and turn on the light, but that might actually make his head explode. After a few moments, Todoroki measures out the correct dosage, and hands the tiny cup to Izuku. He downs it immediately and chases it with some water from a bottle that has suddenly materialized in his hand, also thanks to Todoroki.

Izuku looks up at his friend as he drinks. Todoroki is clearly sizing him up with his eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

Izuku feels the twinge of warmth and guilt again when he hears how quietly and gently his friend says those words. “Don’t worry about it,” he finds himself saying, sipping another spoonful of soup. It’s warm and feels good on his throat.

“Midoriya. Tell me what it feels like, I want to know.” 

Izuku is already tired of making people worry about him and it’s only been what, two hours? How was he going to make it multiple days like this? But he knows Todoroki wants an answer. Izuku lays his head back on his pillow and stares at the ceiling. He sighs as deeply as he dares, chest constricting in pain.

“Honestly? It feels like my body is attacking itself. The pain is...constant and everywhere. Like my immune system is just...blaring all the alarms and,” he pauses to roughly clear his ragged throat. “And I’ve never felt so exhausted in my life.” He glances over to see Todoroki staring down at him with an unreadable expression. Really, most of his expressions are unreadable. “Thank you, again, for bringing me food, and helping me and everything. I think I’ll be good now, you can uh, go about your day.” Izuku cringes at his awkwardness. “Thank you, again.” This is unbearable.

Todoroki’s eyebrows furrow slightly. He slowly looks over at the door, then back at Izuku. “Do you want me to leave?” 

“No! No. I mean, I want you to if that’s what you want. Like, you’re not trapped here. Is all.”

Todoroki blinks and Izuku wants to bury himself in his comforter and never come out.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Izuku just stares. Yes, I want you to stay. God, yes. I want you to feed me and stroke my hair and keep me company. I don’t want to be alone. Please, don’t leave me alone. “Only if you want to,” is what he actually says, barely above a whisper.

“Okay. Then I’ll stay.” Todoroki’s voice has never sounded so quiet. Izuku feels his heart stutter at the unsaid implication behind those words. He wants to stay. 

Todoroki sits down next to the bed and rifles through the bag of snacks, picking out a small box of animal crackers. “I’ll even do you a favor. I’ll eat the unhealthiest snacks first, so you don’t eat them and make your illness worse.”

Izuku scoffs. “Hey! You gotta leave me some comfort food. I have to heal emotionally, too.”

“Ah,” Todoroki replies, popping a zebra into his mouth and chewing. “My mistake. Here you go.” He hands Izuku a lion.

“Thank you.” The cracker is sweet and nostalgic, but sticks to his throat in less than desirable ways. He washes it down with water, and turns his attention back to his soup. Todoroki pulls out his phone and taps around for a moment before it starts playing a YouTube video about a friendly bear playing in a swimming pool. He leans his back against the side of Izuku’s bed, holding the screen slightly to the right (with the brightness on the lowest setting) so Izuku can see. They stay like this for a while, breaking silence only to laugh quietly or comment on whatever random videos pop up in Youtube’s suggestions for Todoroki. It’s mostly cute animal videos.

At some point, Izuku feels his eyelids begin to droop in an unnatural way. He blinks, and takes stock of how he’s feeling. There’s still pain, but it’s slightly subdued. His limbs feel strangely heavy, and sleep is tugging his eyelids persistently downwards. His headache is nearly gone.

“Hey, I think the medicine is starting to work,” he says. Todoroki hums in approval, his eyes not leaving the video of a fox stealing a kid’s doughnut and running away.

“That’s good, it sounded like Recovery Girl wasn’t sure if it would help at all.” Todoroki doesn’t say anything else, seemingly entranced by the antics of the fox on the screen. Izuku turns his head to look at the ceiling again, and numbly registers that the room is spinning. His breathing is almost concerningly slow, and his thoughts are quickly becoming muddled with dream-like nonsense.

“Todoroki…” he mumbles, trying his hardest to keep his eyes open. They keep fluttering closed against his will. He feels the side of the bed shift slightly as his friend turns to look at him, the video silenced.

“Yes? Are you okay?”

“Is the...on the medicine. Bottle. Is drowsiness a side effect?” Izuku allows his eyes to slip closed for a second as Todoroki reaches for the bottle on the nightstand. Dreams quickly begin to unravel against the back of his eyelids, and he forces them open again.

“Yes. Marked drowsiness may occur, it says. Are you falling asleep?” Todoroki leans slightly over the bed into Izuku’s field of vision. Izuku meets his eyes and blinks very slowly.

“Yeah.”

Todoroki’s lips twitch in amusement and he sets the medicine down. “Alright. I’ll let you sleep. Do you need anything before I go?”

At this point, Izuku is already dreaming. His eyes are closed and nonsensical imagery is dancing around in his subconscious. He reaches a hand toward Todoroki blindly, wrapping his fingers around his friend’s wrist and tugging him closer. “C’mere.”

Todoroki laughs quietly, just a puff of hair from his nose. He allows Izuku to pull his arm closer. Izuku places Todoroki’s hand on top of his head with purpose. “It felt nice,” he mumbles. Izuku is too tired to elaborate right now. Todoroki will know what he’s talking about. He’s smart like that.

Hesitantly, the hand on Izuku’s head relaxes, and brushes the hair from his forehead once again. Izuku sighs, and the hand traces its way across Izuku’s scalp back behind his ear, caressing the side of his head. The fingers card through his hair, once, twice more before Izuku is fast asleep.

-

part 3

#tododeku #tododeku fic #tododeku fluff #todoroki shouto #todoroki x midoriya #izuku midoriya x shouto todoroki #todoroki #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #my hero fan fiction #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fic #boku no hero #shouto x izuku #izuku midoriya #izuku #midoriya #fanfiction #fanfic #Fic #mine #shouto todoroki #fluff

[reminiscing-writer]

Unexpected Surprise

Prompt: Reid is a regular at his local bookstore, and also has a very good acquaintance with the young storekeeper there. When she turns down his date very last second, he finds a secret about her that can’t help but make him fall harder for her.

Warning: idk man I’m just tryna write fluff lmao I got hella carried awayyyy

We all deserve happy Reid

—————

The cold October air whizzed by, as Spencer walked into Pages And Pages, his local bookstore, with a large smile on his face, and two steaming coffees in hand. He’d made it a part of his schedule to try and drop by at least once a week. Sure, the books were very captivating, but so was the receptionist.

He thought, from the moment he laid eyes on her, that she was a beauty. Her hair was always loosely tied in a bun, her make up close to minimal, and her sense of style almost mirrored his- sweaters. Lots of sweaters.

He found it fairly easy to talk to her, because, although at first he stumbled with his words, her kind and soft spoken demeanor drew him into a safe space.

Y/n was very well aware of Spencer’s occupation. If he didn’t come by on his weekly visit, she’d figure he was out saving the world, as she liked to put it.

The little bell on the large oak door of the bookstore rang as Spencer entered, and headed straight for y/n’s desk. He was very punctual. 12:15 every Friday. Y/n didn’t even have to look up to know that the shadow covering her table was him.

She had a smile etched on her lips before she even looked up, “You realize I’m seeing you in less than 48 hours right?” She joked, taking the cup of coffee he handed to her.

“I do,” he smiled, just as stricken by her beauty as the last time he saw her, “but, I didn’t want to skip out on meeting with you today.” He tucked a strand of loose hair behind his ear.

She takes a sip of her drink, humming at the delightful taste, “Why won’t you just tell me what you order?” She has her eyes closed, having every taste bud tingle in happiness, “This is delicious.”

He laughs slightly at her happiness, “Becuase, if I told you, then you could get it yourself, anytime. And, I want these coffee meetings to be special.” He says, shyly shrugging.

Y/n’s cheeks filled with a rose blush, “Dr. Reid, you are over the top.” She laughed softly, shaking her head.

“Just wait until Sunday,” Spencer sips his own coffee, “I’ll pick you up from your place, by 8 o’clock, you said, right?” He double-checked. He didn’t need to double check. He had it memorized down to a T. Her address. The route. The time to pick her up. The restaurant he was planning on taking her too. The walk that he planned on them taking from said restaurant to a small ice cream parkour.

He didn’t need to double-check anything.

“Mm-hmm,” She hummed, sipping her drink this time, nodding slightly, “he should be down by then,” she mumbles to herself, quickly scribbling down something on paper, “I’ll be ready by 8, waiting for you.” She smiled.

-

“I’m so sorry.” Y/n apologied for the hundredth time. “I really feel awful. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.” She sniffled over the phone.

“No, I-its fine,” Spencer spoke into his cell, trying so hard to mask the disappointment that was dripping in his voice, “I understand.” He was pacing back and forth in the break room at the office, “We couldn’t possibly know you’d be getting down with bronchitis. It’s not your fault.” Spencer says, scratching the back of his neck.

Y/n had called Saturday afternoon, the day before the duos scheduled date. She had been coughing and sniffling, saying she went to the Urgent Care near her earlier that morning because she was feeling off, and they said she had came down with a pretty bad case of bronchitis.

She kept apologizing and saying she’d make it up to Spencer as soon as she felt better.

Spencer tried not to take the date-canceling to heart. Y/n really was sick, she wouldn’t lie about that- would she? No, of course not. She wasn’t like that.

“Listen, don’t worry about it.” Spencer stopped pacing, “Just rest. That’s what you’ll need to feel better quicker.”

He heard her giggle lightly, causing him to smile, “Thanks, Doc.” He snickered at the nickname, “Hey, Spence,” he hummed in response, “I really do like you.” She said, causing his stomach to turn, “Please, don’t think I’m turning you down or anything. I really was looking forward to our date. And, I really do mean it when I say we’ll go on another one.”

He smiled to himself, putting one hand in the pocket of his jeans and swaying slightly, side to side, “Promise?”

“I promise.”

-

It had to be the right address. Spencer checked his phone for y/n’s previous message and confirmed it for the third time. He held his breath for a second, and licking his lips, he rang the doorbell again.

He felt bad that y/n had gotten bronchitis that just didn’t seem to go away for almost 5 days now. His first priority of Wednesday morning was to stop at a small Chinese spot and grab some soup.

Surprising her would be a small little thing he was hoping would make her happy. So, there he was. At y/n’s doorstep, soup in hand, ringing her bell, awaiting for her to open up.

He checked his watch again, and shuffled his feet. His stomach fluttered as soon as he heard shuffling from behind the door.

“I’m coming!” He heard her voice from inside. He played with the box of soup in hand, and bit his bottom lip anxiously. That’s when he heard a faint cry. Not her cry, though. A cry that seemed to belong to a small child. A baby, maybe. Spencer furrowed his brows, confused. “Baby, please, you have to lie down.” He heard y/n’s voice from a distance.

After some more shuffling around, the door before him opened. Y/n distractedly looked up at Spencer just to do a double take, shocked. “S-Spence? What- What are you doing here?” She asked, barely in frame of the open door.

He looked at her, unable to speak for a second. She fully came into view of him. She adjusted a small sleeping baby in her arms, the child’s head resting on her shoulder.

“I-um, I came to see you.” He spoke slowly, and quietly, “I bought soup.” He held up the box in his hands.

Y/n smiled, and just as she opened her mouth to reply, the baby she was holding began stirring causing her eyes to widen, “Come on in.” She whispered hastily, nodding to Spencer before going into her abode.

Spencer followed behind her, unsure of what exactly was happening. Questions were running through his head, but it was as if his body was working before his mind could catch up.

Y/n went straight to a small couch, and sat down, pulling her legs up, and cuddling the small child in her arms, wrapping the both of them up with a nearby shawl. Spencer’s heart warmed up at the sight, and he unknowingly smiled to himself.

He slowly walked towards the two when he heard a small but gruel cough come from the baby’s mouth.

“You’re... not the one that’s... sick?” He slowly pieced together, sitting on a couch opposing from the one y/n was on.

Y/n sighed quietly and licked her lips. Shaking her head, she stroked the small child’s hair, “No,” she looked up at Spence, “I’m not. They’re calling it bronchilitis, because he’s so young. It should be gone in about a week total, so at least 2 to 3 days left.” She swallowed hard. “It’s the first time he’s ever gotten sick, and I couldn’t just leave him with a sitter, which is why I had to stay back on our date. Im sorry,” she apologized in the midst of her ramble, “I just...” she paused before breaking eye contact with Spencer, “we don’t have anyone but each other.”

Spencer stayed silent for a moment. He watched y/n hold the baby close and his heart felt all heavy. It was a sight he didn’t think could affect him at all. But, something about a girl he was already infatuated with, being so protective and loving made him fall even deeper for her.

He just couldn’t form any words to express this to her, so he stared at the mother-son silently. That is, until the baby started coughing again. Y/n cringed at the way her son shook as he forced the cough out of his small body.

“I understand if you want to leave,” y/n spoke up, feeling Spencer’s eyes on her, “I shouldn’t have hid the fact that I’m a mother. It’s just, I know that some people would have seen it as,” she shrugged, “extra baggage, so I just refrain from saying it at all. I apologize.”

“You apologize far too much.” Spencer spoke without thinking for once, shocking himself and y/n. He stood up from his seat, and wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans, “Does he, uh, drink soup?” Spencer asked nodding to the child.

Y/n cracked a small smile, “Adam,” she said, “and, yes, he actually is very fond of soup.”

Spencer nodded, before finding his way into the kitchen. As quietly as possible, he emptied the soup into a bowl, and plopped a decent looking spoon into it. Filling a small glass with water, he brought it out to y/n, who was now standing, pacing with a very upset looking Adam.

Spencer’s brows furrowed in worry.

“He’s fine,” y/n assured him, “just a little fussy. Don’t worry.”

“It’s tough, huh?” Spencer spoke, not sitting down until Adam had calmed, “Being a parent, I mean.”

Y/n had seated up the small one year-old next to her on the couch. She was slowly feeding him the soup, and although he was dozed off on meds, he slurped it up happily.

“Being a single parent is something I wasn’t ready for,” y/n admits, wiping some soup of Adams chin, “but, I love this monkey so much,” she scrunched her nose to her son, who gave a very sleepy smile in return, having Spencer laugh lightly, “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

-

Spencer answered the third FaceTime call he had received in the past 5 minutes, “Hey, sorry I was in a meeting with Hotch, is everyth-” he cut his sentence short when he saw his girlfriends face tearstreaked on screen. “Oh, my god,is everything okay? Are you hurt? Is Adam okay?” He quickly rambled, his mind thinking the worst.

Y/n sniffled, “I’m fine, we’re fine,” she quickly answered, “just, wait-“ she quickly runs into a different room and Spencer can hear Adam babbling in the background. He smiles hear the child’s voice. “Watch this.” Y/n tells Spencer. She pulls up a photo, and shows it to her boyfriend first.

It was of the two of them on New Years Eve, happily smiling. Spencer was holding a very giggly Adam, and had his free arm wrapped around y/n’s waist.

She turns the photo to Adam, “Sweetheart,” she tries to grab her sons attention, “hey, Adam,” He looks up to her wide eyed, “you know who this is, baby?” She points to herself.

Adam starts clapping and smiling, “Mama! Mama!” Y/n starts tearing up all over again.

“Yes!” Spencer encourages the child, “Hey, good job!” He gets shushed by y/n quickly.

She points to Spencer in the photo and asks Adam, yet again, “Okay, sweety, and who’s this?” She ask, already ready to cry again.

Adam starts laughing and jumping in place, “Dada! Is dada!”

Spencer gasps, covering his agape mouth with one hand. “Did you teach him that?” He asks a very ecstatic y/n who shakes her head.

“No, he just started to point to the picture all by himself and talk.” She sniffled, leaving the room her son was sitting in.

“Well, one things for sure,” a very smiley Spencer admits happily, “he’s smart, just like his Mama.” He attempts a wink, causing y/n to laugh.

-

It was early. Y/n could feel the December brisk air seeping into the apartment, making her pull her duvet up to cover herself further. She felt a tug, as her boyfriend pulled her covers back from her.

“Hey,” She grumbled, “no hogging.” She whined causing Spence to turn to face her and snicker sleepily.

The two heard their bedroom door open slowly, and the slight pitter patter of small feet tip toe in.

“He’s awake.” Spencer whispered to his girlfriend, peeping one eye open.

“Brace yourself.” Y/n groaned, just seconds before the three year old attacker jumped on the bed. He bounced and he jumped and he laughed loudly, inevitably causing him the grown ups in bed to groan and slowly sit up in bed.

“Mama, Daddy! It’s Critthy Time! It’s Critthy time, now!!” He pumped his tiny fists into the air.

Spencer smiles, still trying to open both eyes, “Did Santa even get you any gifts? You’ve been been pretty naughty lately.” Y/n groans, covering her head with a pillow.

“So many! Daddy, there’s like,” Adam puts up 3 fingers carefully, “this many boxes with my name!!”

Spencer fake gasps causing the child to have a giggle fit, “Honey, Adam has been such an angel, I’m sure all of the gifts under the tree are his.” Spence pulls the pillow off y/n’s face receiving a groan from her. “Long night?” He smirks to her, causing her to stick her tongue out. Her cheeks slightly blushed as she remembered the... eventful night the two shared.

“I’m exhausted.” She sighed, sitting up and rubbing her tired eyes. Adam jumps out of the bed and runs to the living room. Spencer can’t help but smile at the little ones pajamas.

They were a mom-dad-child set. So all three of them were wearing the same red plaid winter pajamas. Spencer and y/n had gone to sleep in just the pants of the set, so before they went out to the Christmas tree, they made sure to put on the shirts as well.

Y/n groggily made her way to the sofas, and sat by the foot of one. Spencer made his way to the kitchen to put the coffee on before he sat beside y/n, his arm draping around her shoulders, and her resting her head on his chest.

Adam came up to y/n, putting his face a mere centimeters from hers, as grabs her shoulders by his small hands. “Can I open, now? Please?” He pouted to his mother.

She laughed and kissed her nose, “Of course, monkey. Let’s see what Santa got my big boy.” Adam cheered before running to the small pile of boxes under the decently lit tree.

He help up a box, and took it to Spencer first, having him nod in indication that it does in fact have Adams name on it. Happily he plops down right in front of y/n and starts to tear open the wrapping paper. The smell of coffee starts to fill the apartment, and Spencer gives y/n a kiss on the forehead before getting up to go to the kitchen.

“Mama?” Adam whispers to his mother, who simply hums at him in response, “You know, Daddy opened presents not asking you.” He said to y/n innocently.

She furrowed her brows, ruffling his hair, “What are you talking about, Pumpkin?”

“Daddy,” he repeats, “he took a small box and hid it in his jacket. He don’t want you to know. So, you can’t get mad.” He explained, although causing more confusion to his already confused mother.

Y/n had suspicions for a few months now. She once overheard Spencer on the phone with his colleagues, saying something along the lines of yeah man, I knew she was the one a while ago. Any day now. I’m just deciding on when.

Then, she was borrowing his phone once when Adam has dropped hers down the toilet, and when she opened Safari, she saw 2 tabs open. One that had been searching for unique and special rings, and the other that was searching, children’s tuxes and suits.

But, what really put the icing on the cake for her, was when the three of them were coming home late after one Spencer’s teammates wedding. Y/n had been tired so she was resting her head, with her eyes closed. Adam was already fast asleep, snoring lightly. Spencer has put his hand on y/n’s thigh, and when her being to tired to respond, translated into she’s asleep for him, he said the words that had been tugging at y/n’s heart since then.

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

Y/n unfolds her legs, and slowly gets up, “Mama’s gonna go check on Daddy,” she informs her child, “I’ll be right back.” She kisses the top of his hair.

She goes into the kitchen to see two mugs with steaming coffee in them, but no Spencer in sight. She furrows her brows, and turns to head into the bedroom, looking for her boyfriend. Glancing over her room she fails to see him again. She frowns slightly, and turns around on her heels, almost falling over her own feet when she bumps into Spencer right behind her.

“You scared me.” She frightenedly giggles, putting a hand over her heart. “I was looking for- What... are you doing?” She narrows her eyes at him when he takes a step back, and gets down on one knee. She sees a paper and a small box in his hand.

Her breathing fastens, watching his every move, “I was planning on doing this on New Years, at Rossi’s house party,” Spencer started off, “but, my surprise seems to have been foiled.” He nervously laughs. “Y/n,” him saying her name causes her eyes to start tearing up, “You came into my life unexpectedly,” he says, “but, I decided a long time ago, that you were definitely the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” He looked over his shoulder to Adam, then back to y/n, “Both of you.” He inhaled as y/n’s bottom lip trembled, “Y/n,” she whimpers in response, biting her bottom lip, “will you do me the honor of making me your husband, and the official father of Adam?”

Y/n in the midst of her crying, sniffles and cocks her head, confused. She walks closer to Spencer, pulling him to stand up. He hands her the piece of paper and opens the small box in his hands.

A beautiful ring shone brightly in Spencers hands, and adoption papers shook in y/n’s hands.

1 very cold wedding, 2 additional siblings to Adam and a kitten later; and still, Spencer refused to tell y/n what type of coffee he would get for her when they go out.

-

I kinda like this mmm we’ll see my opinion change in a few days lol

#spencer fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds #pure fluff #fluffy fluff #im actually proud of this #hehe #daddy spence #dad!spencer #christmas #very long blurb lol #fluff #cute #single mom #thats not a trigger #right #lol

[normal-thoughts-official]

Do you think magnus has ever had panic attacks? how do you think alec or his friends (like raphael or cat or ragnor) would react/help?

I'm pretty sure he has, actually. i mean its pretty much impossible not to, with such a long live he's lived and all the trauma he's gone through. we got a glimpse of the kinds of nightmares he has, all the guilt he feels, and the unbearable pressure on his shoulders. he's strong af, but everyone breaks down, and there are parts of him that are still raw, and fragile sometimes

i imagine he's the type that absolutely tries to hide them, the type that feels them coming and is all like "excuse me" and manages to hold it back for exactly the time needed to get somewhere he can hide and break down. but his friends and family are attentive, and they know him, and after a while they start to recognize the signs that Magnus went away to have a panic attack/is about to have one

as for how they react...

Cat: cat is a medical professional, so i imagine she knows the best procedures. keep a distance, count the breaths, talk to him in a soothing voice, walk him through calming down, ask him about the things around him so he can regain his surroundings, etc. then, once he's back to breathing, she slowly comes towards him, asks if she can touch him, and when he says yes, strokes his hair and kisses his forehead. she then goes back and tells everyone Magnus had an emergency, takes him home (even if it takes some convincing to make him agree to leave), and stays the night with him, cuddling, talking about it, or providing a distraction

Ragnor: ragnor is probably a more awkward version of cat. The good thing about him is that he always keeps his cool and acts like whatever's happening is natural, and it's so absurd that Magnus starts laughing waterly and feels a little more at ease, because he's not making a huge fuss. He's like "oh dear, okay, Magnus, you're okay, let's calm down, yeah? breathe with me, in, out... yeah, see, that's not so hard" and it's kind of like ???? why are you so matter of fact about this??, but in a good way. then he probably conjures up Magnus some tea, and either portals him home, or goes back with him and stays by his side, sneakingly stealing the attention with crazy stories so people don't notice Magnus is off

Dot: Dot usually holds his hand, tells him that hes alright, might cheat sometimes by using magic to calm him down a little bit. Then once he's a little calmer, she probably serves as a pretty good distraction, talking to him about other things, playing music, allowing him to just forget until he's ready to open up and tell her what happened

Raphael: Raphael probably struggles a little, because Magnus is his father figure, and it's always a little earth shattering to see your parents breaking down. also, he has this image of himself as someone who struggles to express his feelings because hes not good at verbalizing them (plus autism frequently means his intentions are mistaken by people who don't know him) even if, actually, he's pretty damn good at showing Magnus that he cares. he worries so much about getting him to be okay it's painful, counting his breaths, cupping his face, Magnus, look at me, it's okay, you're okay, hugging him. Magnus might be scared but he'd never lash out at Raphael, so it works. then once Magnus has calmed down Raphael is just speeding around trying to get things for him. here's some water. here's food. can you portal home? I'll make you some food. like he needs to feel useful and also the latino instincts are always person sad = feed them. so he makes Magnus some soup, recipe of his mum that Magnus taught him especially for moments like these, makes him drink water and gets him blankets (gotta be toasty). usually Magnus ends up sleeping, but when he wakes up, Raphael is still there, probably cleaning his loft worriedly because he's like that, but as soon as magnus opens his eyes he's back at his side. are you alright? tell me what happened. and he listens to Magnus very attentively, free of judgement, and it's very heartwarming and reminds Magnus that Raphael cares about him so deeply, that he's not alone

Alec: he can probably never pretend for too long with alec when they arent home because Alec is always like "gotta keep tabs on my husband at all times" so if he disappears alec is immediately searching for him. he usually goes straight for the hug, and it's good, because he's so Big and can envelop Magnus like a cocoon if he wants, hiding him from the world and making him feel like, safe and sated. If sensory overload caused the attack it's particularly great, because it feels like a sensory deprivation chamber and he's just safe and with the right amount of pressure and touch, and Alec always feels nice. And he allows himself to cry on Alec's shoulder, and Alec whispers soothing things. Then Alec either takes him home and cuddles with him until he falls asleep and asks him about it the next day, or, if Magnus asks to go back, he goes with him. Alec understands the feeling of humiliation at having to leave an event because of something like this, and how sometimes, as a leader, or as a downworlder surrounded by shadowhunters, he can't without risking his position or the respect he gets. So he silently goes back with him, always with an appropriate excuse for their disappearance, no matter how long or sudden it was, and somehow even manages to be convincing enough that people dont think they left to fuck. he's a diplomat, after all. he guides Magnus through the rest of the event, making sure to avoid annoying people and to take the lead in conversations so Magnus doesnt have to strain himself emotionally too much. Then he takes Magnus home, helps him out of his clothes and makeup, cuddles with him until he falls asleep, and asks him about it the next day

i loved this ask, btw! It's interesting to think about how each of them would react to that situation and explore their dynamics and how each of them could be helpful. since each of them has a forte, depending on the situation they might call each other - raph, Magnus is too beaten up, can you get here and make some soup?, Alec, Magnus had a breakdown and he can't leave, would you come here?, Cat, we're worried, can you come and calm him down?, etc. Just give Magnus all the supporting network trying their hardest and playing their strengths to help him

#ask #anonymous #sh #shadowhunters #magnus bane #catarina loss #ragnor fell #dorothea rollins #dot rollins #raphael santiago #alec lightwood #malec #brotp: i'll do whatever it takes to protect them #long post #adhd magnus bane #autistic raphael santiago #panic attack tw #anxiety tw

[kurowrites]

Snow - Chapter 11

Entire fic. AO3.

I wrote this in between slaving over my final report today, and the final report is not yet finished but this is. I hope y'all are grateful.

A.k.a. more trauma incoming.

---

“Wangji! Wangji, wait for me! Hey! Wangji!”

Wei Ying tries to catch up with the boy, but Wangji is fast. Only when Wei Ying stumbles over a snowbank and nearly falls on his face does Wangji turn around and glare at Wei Ying.

Yes, yes, he knows. No running. No shouting. Wangji is prickly about things like that.

He finally catches up to Wangji, wrapping his arms around the sleeve of Wangji’s jacket in an effort not to slip and stumble again. His thin shoes aren’t made for ice and snow.

To his credit, Wangji doesn’t pull away, and he also doesn’t scrunch up his nose. He’s always good like that. He doesn’t really like Wei Ying, but he also doesn’t keep him at a distance, doesn’t treat him like the dirty, smelly street rat that Wei Ying really is. Wei Ying is trying to keep clean and orderly, he really is, but if you don’t have regular access to a bathroom and laundry facilities, you get smelly quick. He’s learned that by now.

But Wangji has never, ever made him feel bad about it, even when he criticises everything else. Like the shouting.

“You won’t even let me thank you for saving me from these dogs,” Wei Ying pouts. “You’ve been running away from me for days now.”

Wangji sighs, and pries Wei Ying off his arm.

“I did not do it for your thanks,” he says as he slips his school bag off his shoulders and opens it. “I do not need your gratitude. Here.”

He holds out a small, wrapped package.

By now, Wei Ying knows what’s inside. He eagerly opens it and takes in the morsels of food that Wangji has brought him. His stomach has been grumbling all day, and he hasn’t been lucky enough to find some decent leftovers in the trashcans today. He’s already been considering another heist at the little food stand that sells baozi, even though he knows that the proprietor is wise to his tricks now.

The food that Wangji gives him is better.

He doesn’t waste any time and immediately sits down on the nearest dry stone step to eat, careful not to waste the smallest drop of sauce, the tiniest bit of food.

Wangji sits next to him wordlessly and watches him eat, as he always does. Wei Ying isn’t quite sure why he keeps doing it, keeps bringing him food, since he doesn’t seem to actually like Wei Ying, but the food is good and he’s definitely hungry enough not to question Wangji’s motives.

Wangji gives him food and saves him from stray dogs, and he sometimes shows him what they’re learning in class, so that Wei Ying can learn too. Wangji might not like him, but to Wei Ying, Wangji is his best friend in the entire world. He’s also Wei Ying’s most favourite person in the entire world.

His parents don’t count, because they’re gone now.

He swallows a thank you with the last bite of the food, and hands the wrapping back to Wangji.

“Don’t you think it’s time that you tell me your real name?” he asks.

But Wangji remains quiet, still refusing to give Wei Ying his real name, as he always does.

The first time they met, they fought because Wangji caught him stealing a peach. Wei Ying demanded to know his name so he could always remember his archnemesis, the stuck-up boy that came between him and a delicious peach. And Wangji had told him that his name was “Wangji,” which was obviously fake and not even his full name! He’d never been so insulted.

Even now that Wangji brings him food, he’s still only Wangji. It’s a game by now, trying to figure out what it takes for Wangji to finally tell him his real name.

Wei Ying may not know his real name, but he does know a few things about Wangji. He knows that Wangji’s family is well off, that he goes to a good school, that he’s very conscious about being proper and orderly, and that his mother has died a short while ago. That’s not something Wangji has told him directly – he’s heard the neighbours gossip about it. They always call him and his older brother “the poor boys” in that lowered tone of voice that makes it clear they’re afraid of being overheard by someone (they don’t mind Wei Ying though, because Wei Ying is nobody). His mother had been sick for a long time, apparently, and it’s all very tragic, but Wei Ying also hears the badly hidden glee in their voices. A respectable, wealthy family like that, brought low by scandal and tragedy, yadda yadda…

At some point, Wei Ying grew disgusted of their shameless gossiping and stopped listening. Wangji is good to him, and that’s what matters. And he feels a kind of kinship with Wangji. They both lost people that they loved. Wei Ying understands what Wangji must be feeling.

And Wangji seems lonely. Wei Ying never sees Wangji with any other children his age, he never sees him playing, and he always has the same invariably serious expression on his face. If Wei Ying’s presence helps a little with the loneliness Wangji evidently endures, then that’s fine with him. They’re best friends. He will stick with Wangji for the rest of his life, if he has to.

Or at least as long as Wangji is fine with keeping a dirty street rat around.

He gives up his current attempt at finding out Wangji’s real name, and tries to think of a topic better suited for conversation.

“Wangji,” he says eventually. “Tell me about the rabbits.”

Wangji loves rabbits. He’s never been allowed to keep them when he was younger, but a short while ago, he’s finally gotten permission from his uncle to convert a small part of their garden into a rabbit pen. He’s been researching the needs of the rabbits, how to keep them properly, and has been dithering over the breed of rabbits he wants to keep. It’s both funny and adorable, to see Wangji like that. If it had been Wei Ying, he’d probably taken the first rabbit that he came across and stuck him in a cage, but that’s not how Wangji operates. He’s fully committed to creating a rabbit paradise. And Wei Ying loves listening to Wangji talking about his little paradise. It’s one of the few topics that actually make Wangji talk.

Wei Ying closes his eyes and listens to Wangji’s newest plans with a smile. The time that he spends with Wangji is one of the few periods in his day during which he feels safe. Living on the streets isn’t safe. The days are troublesome enough, but the nights are dangerous, and there are more people (and dogs) that wish him harm than he cares for. Still, it’s better than the orphanage. Even when he goes hungry more often than not.

Wangji tells him all about his current plans for the rabbit enclosure, but all too soon, he has to leave again. His uncle is really strict about the curfew. He shoulders his school bag and stands up, and Wei Ying follows him.

“Bye, Wangji,” he says a little regretfully, leaning up and giving Wangji a kiss on his left cheek.

It had been a joke, the first time he did it. It’s something he often did with his parents, kissing them goodbye before they left for work in the morning, or whenever he could, really. He misses their touch so much that he’s physically shaking some days. He was both feeling lonely and had kind of wanted to tease Wangji a little with the all-too-familiar gesture when he kissed Wangji for the first time, but for some reason, Wangji permitted it. He gave Wei Ying a shocked glare, but the glare wasn’t followed by a command to never do it again. So Wei Ying did it again. By now, he gives him a kiss every time they part.

Maybe, maybe, he thinks to himself sometimes, Wangji will come to return it one day.

Once Wei Ying manages to make Wangji like him, too.

---

Time has lost all meaning to Wei Ying by now, so he often doesn’t know what day it is, never mind what date. Today is just a terrible. Whether it’s Tuesday or Thursday doesn’t matter.

Wei Ying has been feeling sluggish all day, has barely found the energy to drag himself out of his hiding place. He managed to find some leftovers around lunchtime, but threw them up almost immediately, his stomach unable to tolerate the spicy food that he usually loves eating. He thinks he’s getting sick. He hasn’t been sick since his parents died, not really, and he feels appropriately miserable. He wants nothing more than a warm blanket, a gentle hand, and some hot tea to soothe him. Unfortunately, none of these things are achievable for him anymore.

Wangji finds him crouched close to one of the street stalls, leeching off the radiating warmth coming from the meat grill while the stall owner keeps his watchful eye on him (in case he’s getting any ideas, which he’s not). It’s cold enough that he doesn’t chase Wei Ying off, though, for which he’s grateful.

“Ying,” Wangji says as he reaches out and presses his cool hand to Wei Ying’s forehead. “You have a fever.”

“It’ll pass,” Wei Ying assures him, because that’s what fevers usually do.

“You need to rest,” Wangji says.

“I am resting. It’s warm here.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’ll be leaving soon,” Wei Ying sighs, hoping that Wangji would just leave him alone. He doesn’t want to talk right now. Talking is exhausting.

Wangji seems to have other plans, however. Instead of leaving, he lifts Wei Ying’s arm over his shoulder and basically drags him back through the streets to Wei Ying’s hideout. He bundles Wei Ying into his ratty blankets, making sure he’s as comfortable as an old mattress in an abandoned house gets before he leaves.

Ten minutes later, he magically reappears with hot tea and soup in thermosflasks, which he carefully feeds to Wei Ying. It helps a little, but now that he’s lying down, Wei Ying realises just how terrible he’s really feeling, and how sick he really is. He wouldn’t be able to get up again if he tried.

“I don’t feel so good, Wangji,” he mumbles, his eyes half-closed. “I’m scared. Please don’t leave me.”

“I will take care of you,” Wangji promises, and strokes his sweaty hair away from his forehead.

Wei YIng dozes a little, secure in the knowledge that Wangji is nearby, looking over him. He always feels safe when Wangji is around. Slowly, evening turns into night, and the sky outside is pitch black by now. The fever prevents him from falling asleep properly. He keeps tossing around, trying to find a comfortable position, a little soothed whenever Wangji strokes his forehead, his cheeks, with cool fingers.

Once, he thinks he feels a kiss pressed against his temple, and he wants to gloat a little.

See, Wangji, he wants to say, I knew you’d come around.

But the words refuse to leave his throat.

The next moment, Wangji stands up and leaves. His careful steps echo around the empty building. Then, Wei Ying is suddenly left alone.

“Wang…ji?” he cries out in a broken voice. But only silence answers him.

He waits for Wangji to come back. Maybe he just went to get some more tea. Maybe he needed to use the toiled. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Time passes by and Wangji doesn’t return. Bit by bit, the icy cold crawls under Wei Ying’s ratty blanket, and a different kind of coldness crawls into his heart.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but it’s enough for realisation to dawn: Wangji won’t come back. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

Wangji left him here, alone.

He left him alone even though Wei Ying asked him not to. He left him alone even though Wangji is the only person in this world that still cares about Wei Ying.

He’s cold and he’s exhausted, but he still has the energy to spill hot, desperate tears over this betrayal. Wangji has left him, too.

Wangji has left.

He will never, ever ask anyone to stay with him again.

That’s the last thing he remembers.

---

The next thing he knows, he’s in a hospital bed.

He is later informed that the police picked him up that night and brought him to a hospital, but he has no memory of it. He has no memory of any of the events that night. He only remembers being feverish and in pain, wishing that his parents were there with him.

When he wakes up, however, he finds a man sitting at his bedside, smiling at him gently. Wei Ying has never seen this man in his entire life.

“Hello, Wei Ying,” the man greets him once he’s taken in the sterile surroundings of the hospital room. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

It takes a while for Wei Ying to understand, but Jiang Fengmian, the man at his bedside, patiently explains to him that he’s an old friend of his parents, and that he’s been looking for Wei Ying ever since the news of their death reached him. By the time he contacted the orphanage Wei Ying had been brought to, Wei Ying had already run away, and no one knew where he was. But now that he’s finally been found, Jiang Fengmian is determined to adopt him, and bring him home with him to Hubei.

It all sounds far too good to be true, the things that Jiang Fengmian is saying. He’s going to have a family. He’s going to have an older sister and a younger brother, and he will never have to worry again about food. He will be able to go back to school, get an education. He will be taken care of in Hubei.

Hubei is very far away.

But what choice is there, really? Nothing is keeping him here in Suzhou. Only the memory of his parents’ deaths remains here.

He’s been living on the streets for months, cold and hungry and alone. There is nothing for him to lose. Nothing for him to regret.

He accepts Jiang Fengmian’s offer, and closes another chapter in his life.

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #snow fic

[apprenticeofcups]

i'm in the middle of getting over a cold so i was wondering if i could request the mains of your choice taking care of a cold-ridden mc. please and thank you

you bet!

🤒The Babes + Cold-Ridden MC

Asra

Makes you homemade soup every day until you’re feeling better

Brings you treats from the bakery, even though Julian says you should starve a cold

Draws you hot baths to help clear out your sinuses, with magic bath salts that makes the steam glittery-purple

Faust plops in to join you (Love a water!)

Sits in the bed with you so you can sleep with your head in his lap while he makes things to sell in the shop or works on the books

Strokes your hair and hums the songs his parents used to sing when he was sick as a child

Nadia

Won’t let you lift a finger. “Common” cold or not, you’re not getting out of bed

Bundles you up in her bed with extra-comfy pillows, right where she can keep an eye on you

She does most of the waiting on you, but makes sure your favorite servants are there for when she has to go do Countess things

Shows you how to use her neti pot (and gets more of those prime Nevivon salts to flush you out)

Takes you for a long steam in the baths and shampoos your hair

Forehead-kisses only ‘til you’re feeling better

Portia

Oh, you know you’re getting that special-order Mazelinka soup

Insists on feeding you by hand, just to make you laugh

Hot beer + honey for sore throat and congestion - it’s an old Nevivon recipe she swears by

It tastes kind of like liquid brioche, and it makes you sleepy, but it does work

Brings home “leeches” for you from Julian (they’re actually just leech-shaped throat lozenges, but he did prescribe them)

Pepi curls up in bed with you - and so does Portia, because cuddling with you is worth catching a cold herself

A yawn is a silent scream for coffee ☕

#the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana game headcanons #the arcana babes #the arcana game imagines #asra the arcana #the arcana asra #asra the magician #asra alnazar #nadia the arcana #the arcana nadia #nadia satrinava #countess nadia #portia the arcana #the arcana portia #portia devorak #pasha devorak #my headcanons #my requests

[sinning-on-a-sunday]

Hellooo! I was wondering if I could request a Jungkook oneshot in which he takes care of his s/o who has a fever and is fussy about taking her medicine :)) thank youu

fussy

warnings: yandere behavior, profanity, restraints

a/n: hi!! this is my first request, so i hope i answered it well enough. please tell me what you think as i am not super happy with how it turned out :)

i find it super ironic how i got this request on a day where i am actually home sick hahaha what a coincidence.

The cuffs bit into your skin, cutting off your movement as you tried to reach for another tissue. Yes, the bastard had cuffed you to the bed after you’d refused to stay under the covers.

You knew that Jungkook would baby you to the point of spoon-feeding if he found out that you were sick, so you’d tried to hide it from him. However, the man could read you like a book, and in no time he’d figured it out.

It wasn’t an enigma, to be honest. The signs were pretty obvious. Your nose was red-tipped and rubbed raw from all the tissues, beads of sweat dotted your forehead, and your cheeks were flushed from the heat of your fever.

Jungkook had insisted that you change into your pajamas and spend the rest of the day in bed. You’d protested, saying that it was no big deal, you felt fine, but Jungkook didn’t let up.

“I said, put these on and get in bed.” Jungkook ordered, a stack of clothes in his hand.

“I’m not sick! Would you please just leave me alone!” You replied, already tired of him bossing you around like you were a child and he was the parent.

Jungkook tightened his jaw. Narrowing his eyes, he tossed the bundle of clothes on the bed and crossed over to the door.

“I’ll be back in two minutes. When I return, I expect you to be dressed and in bed.”

You hadn’t listened, stubbornly adhering to the claim that you weren’t sick. When Jungkook had returned, finding that you’d ignored his instructions, his irritation only increased.

“Baby,” he began in a threatening voice. “You know what happens when you don’t listen to me.”

You just glared at him.

“I’m. Not. Sick.”

Jungkook’s eyes burned into yours for what felt like a solid minute of silence. Then, he sighed.

“I didn’t want to have to do this,” he said. “But you forced my hand. Just remember that you made me do this, Y/N.”

And that’s how you found yourself here: limbs chained to the bedposts, forcefully dressed in your pink bunny pajamas per Jungkook’s wishes.

You could hear him bustling around in the kitchen downstairs. By now you were starting to feel the symptoms really set in. Nausea was swimming unpleasantly in your stomach, your muscles were sore, and the pounding headache that had formed hours ago was now so powerful that it felt like a second heartbeat.

Maybe you were sick after all.

Jungkook came back into the room holding a cup of steaming tea. He sat down on the bed, leaning forward to bring it to your lips.

You took a sip, sighing as the warm liquid soothed your sore throat, eyes closed in bliss.

“You ready to admit that you’re sick now?” Jungkook said, raising a smug eyebrow at you.

You just narrowed your eyes.

“I just like tea, that’s all.” You lied.

“Oh, good. So you won’t mind drinking all of it, then.”

Should’ve saw that one coming.

After you’d downed the entire cup, Jungkook fluffed your blankets and disappeared back downstairs.

Now you were really starting to feel the effects. Your entire body ached, your sinuses were clogged and congested, and you were covered in sweat despite your body being racked by chills.

The next time Jungkook returned, an obvious look of alarm immediately crossed his features. He hurried over to the bed to press his hand to your forehead.

“Shit Y/N, you’re burning up.” He said.

You didn’t say anything, eyelids drooping as exhaustion started to drag you down. You were pulled from your daze by a light tapping on your shoulder.

Jungkook was hovering over you again.

Upon seeing the thermometer in his hand, you moaned in protest and squirmed away from him, the cuffs preventing you from getting very far.

“Aww, is baby being fussy?” Jungkook said in a high-pitched voice.

You glared at him.

He was enjoying this. Jungkook loved having you vulnerable and weak beneath him.

“Come on, open up.” He instructed.

You shook your head and wriggled away.

Jungkook huffed, narrowing his eyes.

“Y/N, I’m not going to ask you again. Open up.”

You didn’t want to deal with the consequences of disobeying him, so you complied, allowing him to place the thermometer under your tongue. He held it in place until it beeped.

Jungkook’s eyes widened when he saw the number.

“What? What is it?” You asked, sitting up as much as the restraints would allow.

He just turned and stalked out of the room.

You called after him, but the effort of shouting made your head spin and your vision go hazy, causing you to fall back on the pillows.

Jungkook came back a few minutes later with a spoon in one hand and a bottle in the other.

“Oh no.” You said.

“Oh yes.” He replied, pouring out some of the sickly purple liquid.

“No! I don’t like that kind, it makes me groggy.” You whined.

“You’re taking it.” Jungkook said like his word was law, once more plopping down next to you on the bed. He moved the spoon towards your lips, but you just clamped your mouth shut and shook your head frantically.

“Come on. Open wide.”

You shook your head again, moaning to further reflect your unwillingness to cooperate.

“Y/N, you won’t like how this ends if I have to force you.” Jungkook warned, eyes sharp and unyielding.

You crumbled under his gaze, averting your eyes in submission and hesitantly opening your mouth enough for him to slip the spoon inside.

“Good girl.”

It tasted awful. Your face screwed up in disgust as the bitter, syrupy liquid slid down your throat.

The medicine only made you more drowsy and out of it. By the time he’d made soup, you were barely conscious and weak as a kitten, and Jungkook was reveling in it.

You didn’t struggle as he spoon-fed you and dabbed at your flushed face with a cool cloth. He sat there holding a cold compress to your forehead to try to bring your fever down.

You melted into every touch, every pat of your head and stroke of your hair, just as disoriented as a baby bird that had flown into a pane of glass.

Jungkook hummed to himself as he caressed your cheek.

“Not so fussy now, huh?”

#yandere #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #yandere oneshot #yandere requests #yandere reactions #soft yandere

[vernonfielding]

I got hella homies

Story No. 29 of my Season 7 Countdown Project.

Summary: “Boyle says you brought Jocelyn to Shaw's last week.”

Jocelyn meets (most of) the Nine-Nine. Takes place before The Therapist. (Read on AO3.)

She notices Amy Santiago first, because Amy is standing at the bar wearing a full police uniform, and also, she has incredibly shiny hair, and Jocelyn’s always had a thing for brunettes.

Jocelyn pauses at the threshold of Shaw’s, eyes scanning from Amy to the booths that line the walls, until she finds the one loud group sprawled around a table toward the back. She squints, trying to identify Rosa, and that’s when someone slides up behind her and says, “Don’t move.”

Jocelyn bites her lip to keep from grinning. Rosa smells like fresh lemons and leather and just now, bourbon.

“Or what?”

A hand slips onto her hip and squeezes, and Rosa says, “Or you won’t get the first shower tomorrow morning.”

She gives Jocelyn a quick peck on the cheek, and Jocelyn lifts an eyebrow. “You should probably be careful about sneaking up behind people in a cop bar,” she says.

Rosa shrugs. “I just wanted a second alone before you meet everyone.”

“That’s sweet,” Jocelyn says. She knows Rosa will hate that, and sure enough, Rosa frowns and grimaces.

“C’mon,” she says, and tugs at Jocelyn’s hand.

Jocelyn had picked the right table, and she’s able to identify everyone else even before Rosa makes the introductions. Charles has an open, friendly face and kind eyes, and he’s wearing a tan button-down shirt and the dullest brown tie Jocelyn’s ever seen. Terry is massive and very handsome, but it’s the suspenders that give him away. Amy has re-joined the table and is sitting beside her husband. Jake is the last one she places, because she’s having trouble reconciling this man with the goofy grin and laughing eyes with the obsessed, sleep-deprived, manic detective Rosa described working with on a recent murder investigation. 

“Everyone, this is Jocelyn,” Rosa says. “Don’t be weird to her.”

“Hurtful,” Jake says, but he’s smiling, He has an arm slung around Amy’s shoulders, and he leans over the table and reaches toward Jocelyn to shake hands. “You have neat hair.”

“That was weird,” Rosa says.

+++

Jocelyn’s politics swing way left and she’s definitely never dated a cop before. But Rosa is confident and assertive and Jocelyn finds that extremely attractive, and to be honest, the fact that she carries a gun is weirdly hot. She is eagerly anticipating the day she finally gets to see Rosa in uniform.

She knows the past year hasn’t been easy, since Rosa came out to her parents. Jocelyn’s glad she did it -- to be honest, she doesn’t date people who aren’t out anymore. She gets why people stay closeted, she really does. But Jocelyn has been out since middle school and even at age 14 she knew that if someone couldn’t handle who she was, that person wasn’t worth the trouble. Now she’s 38, and she won’t be anyone’s secret.

So yeah, this feels good, squeezed into a booth at the back of a dingy cop bar with Rosa and her friends. Jake and Charles are shout-singing to Taylor Swift and Amy is pretending to be embarrassed but obviously loving it. Terry tells the table in general that he’s texting his wife that he’ll be home in time to put the twins to bed. And Rosa is definitely sitting closer to Jocelyn than she needs to, one hand on Jocelyn’s knee under the table.

+++

The invitation to join Rosa at Shaw’s came out of nowhere, which has been pretty standard. They’ve been dating a little over three months, and for most of that time Rosa’s been on the murder case with Jake, which means a lot of their dates have been spontaneous and pretty casual. (Rosa also has canceled a lot, which ordinarily would be a deal-breaker for Jocelyn, but Rosa did warn her that a detective’s life can be chaotic.)

Jocelyn got the text as she was leaving her frosting and highlighting class, the last of the day, and wondering if she should see if Rosa was free for dinner. She answered yes immediately and did a literal 180 to catch a train to Prospect Heights. Jocelyn has been dying to meet Rosa’s coworkers, who are clearly the most important people in her life given how much she talks about them. Which, honestly, isn’t a lot, but still about five times more than anyone else.

Still, she was a little afraid that the night would be all cop talk. But the Nine-Nine takes her by surprise. Ten minutes after she’s met them Charles has taken out a stack of actual printed photos of his son Nikolaj and is asking Jocelyn if she’s ever had Latvian beetroot soup, and then Terry has to show her photos (on his phone, like a normal person) of his daughters. After that Jocelyn can’t resist sharing a photo of her niece, who’s just eight months old and sadly lives on the other side of the country.

Then Amy asks her about cosmetology school and says that Jake is right, that her hair is neat.

“I’ve always wanted to try short hair but I’m afraid I don’t have the face for it,” Amy says.

“You should come by the school some time for a consultation,” Jocelyn says, tilting her head to imagine a look for Amy. “I could totally cut it for you.”

“No way!” Jake says firmly, mouth gone suddenly all pouty.

Jocelyn feels a punch of knee-jerk rage, that this guy would dare tell his wife what she can and can’t do with her hair. She opens her mouth, ready to lay into him.

And then Jake says, “You said I could cut your hair if you ever decided to go short!”

Amy rolls her eyes. “No, you are not allowed to cut my hair with the paper cutter at work. We’ve talked about this.”

“My wife is the worst,” Jake says in a whine. But he’s smiling and his eyes have gone all crinkly in the corners, and Amy tips her face up to his and kisses the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry, babe,” she says.

So Jocelyn decides that Jake and Amy are adorable and she wishes she could have been at their wedding, which Rosa said was the most romantic shit she’s ever seen, and that was after the bomb scare.

After a second round, Jocelyn asks if the captain ever joins them for drinks and Amy says, “I wish” in a dreamy sort of voice, and then she and Charles launch into a story about Holt single-handedly saving Shaw’s by drinking himself sick on Charbonnay. 

“Cabernet?” Jocelyn says.

“No,” Rosa says, looking like the very thought of that particular alcohol is going to give her a hangover. Jocelyn drops the subject.

“When do I get to meet him?” she says instead.

“Holt?” Rosa shrugs. “He’s not very social.”

“Are you kidding?” Charles calls out from Rosa’s other side. He leans over the table to address Jocelyn. “Captain Holt and Kevin love Rosa. I bet they’d have you over for Kevin’s famous white rice. I’m dying to try it but I’m not allowed in their home after last year’s tofu incident.”

Jocelyn has so many questions. “What’s the tofu-”

“Don’t ask,” Rosa says. “We should go.”

Everyone ends up leaving at once. Outside the bar, Charles gives Jocelyn a too-long hug, and Terry tells her he’s so glad they met and then seems to tear up a little and walks away in a hurry. Amy’s goodbye handshake is bone-crushing but her smile is genuine.

Jake pulls Jocelyn aside while Amy and Rosa are discussing a murder case and, improbably, blood-sniffing flies. He tells her in a hushed voice that he’s never seen Rosa happier in a relationship, and then he makes her swear to never tell Rosa he said that. (Jake also calls her Jackie, but he’s so friendly about it that she instantly forgives him.)

Rosa walks her home, and they hold hands and Jocelyn gushes about how great her coworkers are. “I wasn’t expecting to like a bunch of NYPD cops so much,” she says.

It’s dark out and Rosa is pretty inscrutable at all times anyway. But as they pass under a streetlamp, Jocelyn’s pretty sure she sees the smallest quirk of a smile.

“Yeah,” Rosa says, “they’re not bad, I guess.”

Jocelyn laughs. She recognizes high praise from her girlfriend when she hears it.

“Speaking of not bad,” Jocelyn says, and pauses, tugging at Rosa’s hand to make her stop too. She slips her arms around Rosa’s waist, and Rosa gives her another of those half-smiles and lifts a hand up to Jocelyn’s face. When they kiss, Rosa’s lips are full and soft and warm, and the slide of her tongue is electric. Jocelyn closes her eyes and hums a little, and Rosa strokes a thumb along her jawline, to the pulse point behind her ear. Her other hand curls around Jocelyn’s neck to pull her closer.

They’re both a little breathless when they break apart. Rosa’s eyes are so dark they’re almost black, but there’s a spark of something fond and joyful in them. She reaches up to brush aside the bangs that have slipped over Jocelyn’s forehead.

“They’re right,” she says, “your hair is neat.”

Jocelyn laughs out loud, and Rosa’s laughing too when they kiss again.

End Notes:

Title is from Feed the Beast (Bash Brothers).

Another massive thank you to @exploding-snapple, who put together a most amazing timeline of Season 6 without which I would have been totally lost trying to figure out the timing of this story. According to her timeline, Rosa and Jocelyn would have started dating around late December/early January of 2018-19. So by the time Jocelyn met everyone (in early April) they would have been dating about three months. (If that’s wrong for some reason, blame my math, not explodingsnapple’s timeline.)

Interestingly, much of their early dating would have taken place during The Crime Scene, which must have been intense, and perhaps influenced Jocelyn’s eventual frustration that Rosa consistently prioritizes her job over her girlfriend. (Canon is fun!)

I purposefully had Rosa sharing quite a bit of personal info about her coworkers with Jocelyn, which I realize runs counter to the Rosa we know. But my thinking is that Rosa really, really likes Jocelyn, and is maybe making an effort to be open with her. Plus, I think Rosa really loves her Nine-Nine family and would maybe want to talk about them, at this point in her life. Anyway, obviously that’s all open to interpretation.

#b99 fic #b99 season 7 countdown project #missing scene #the therapist #rosa/jocelyn #rosa diaz #jocelyn pryce #amy santiago #jake peralta #charles boyle #terry jeffords

[xathia-89]

Playing in the Alpha’s World - Pt 5

Travelling to Joetsu from Kyoto was the least stressful part of our journey. The moment we reached his parents' home, chaos was let loose. Norimasa, his stepfather who had raised him for as long as I had known, had apparently invited all of the family over. Kagekatsu had hitched a ride with us and dove straight in to go and find his little brother, Kagetora before his mother. Kenshin's sister, Aya, could intercept him for an embarrassingly public hug and kiss. Tamekage appeared from nowhere, scaring the hell out of me, and then laughed as he teased his little brother momentarily about childhood romance.  

It was like coming home in part, as I found myself in the middle of a hug between Norimasa and Eghosa. Everything felt natural as Kenshin and Tamekage brought in the overnight bags before Eghosa rushed back to the kitchen. A feast to feed an army was the standard here, as Norimasa was asking Kenshin what took him so long with a smile. Aya was already yelling at Kagekatsu about holding back some information on Kenshin while directing me up to our room for the next couple of nights.  

“Ugh,” Kenshin was rubbing his eyes before wrapping his arms around me, nuzzling his face into my neck, and then humming in content. “It’s so draining.”

“They worried about you being alone for so long after Isehime. You moved out of the flat you owned with her and seemed to be fixated on being alone. You only moved in with Shingen, Yuki and Sasuke because they didn't let you stew any longer, and they weren't letting you stay on your own," I pointed out. "They're more than a little ecstatic to see you aren't on your own, and it's not like I'm a stranger to them as well. They're so happy for you,” I smiled, turning around and cupping his cheek. “I’m just waiting for the ceremony questions and the inevitable ‘when are the babies going to be here?’”

Kenshin’s smile was so illuminating before he was kissing me. It always gave him the advantage over me, and possibly the only time he was able to stop me arguing with him over a point.

“I’m sure we will, but right now, I think I need to feel you under me,” he murmured, starting to kiss down my neck. “You’ll have to be quiet tonight,” his words were getting harder to focus on. “Be a good girl for me and try to be quiet?” His lips were against my throat as I nodded eagerly, feeling my body heat up for him.

“What did you move out to Kyoto for, Kayda?” Aya was more than knowledgable about what I had done to her baby brother the night before, given that my neck was covered in markings, and putting me on the spotlight was their version of hazing. I’d been on the other side of it when it was Tamekage doing the dating as I narrowed my eyes at Aya.

“Osaka was getting a little busy for me, and I wanted to get away from my parents, but not so far it would be impossible to get back in a hurry with my mom having her anxiety attacks so much,” I shrugged. “And you were all with me until we were twelve, so you know what a shit I was as a kid,” I pointed out, before helping myself to some of the rice porridge.

“That leaves the ages of twelve to twenty that you need to fill us in on," she pressed, giving me a shit-eating grin.  

“Well, everyone assumed I was alpha, myself included. So I never had anyone trying to move in on me. I studied business at university, which left me with very little free time. I was dragged out to a bar where I met up with Kenshin again. Then it became my hiding spot as I moved into work," I replied, my eyes cast down as they smiled at me sympathetically.  

“Your mom said you moped when Kenshin left,” Aya grinned, dropping that bomb on us.

My cheeks were aflame in embarrassment, covering them with my hands and squeaking in response, much to the amusement of Kenshin’s family.

“It’s cute to see you two together,” Eghosa smiled, telling Aya to leave me be. “And it feels right to me as a mother that you two should be together." Her expression was kind before looking straight at Kenshin. "You know your responsibilities, as an alpha, yes?"

“I don’t think you would allow me to forget,” Kenshin shrugged, tearing up some bread to dip into the miso soup. “And if Kayda breathed of the slightest hint of such to you, I’m more than certain you would bring enough of a storm down to Kyoto that I’d remember very swiftly.”

“Of course,” Kenshin grumbled in response to Eghosa’s confirmation, making me smile.

***

A few days later, we’d gone back to Kyoto, dropping off Kagekatsu and then spent a few days in Osaka. My parents had been elated as well, though more because it meant there would be a social lift for them involved. Kenshin came from money, so that was my mother’s focus. She commented that I had ‘sunk my teeth in properly this time’, making both me and Kenshin roll our eyes, but stayed polite.

I was more prepared to get back to Kyoto and Kenshin’s apartment, even though it came with judgemental looks.

I wasn’t exactly expected to be met with Shingen and Nobunaga mid-argument as I opened the door, and then both glare at me.

Kenshin took half a second to step in front of me protectively, glowering back before I could do anything. Unsurprisingly, Nobunaga wasn’t keen on the idea of transferring me out of the post. Kiyo was good at my job, but he wasn’t me. Nobunaga was willing to take the chance that I would spend a quarter of my time off work with heat over the next few months, as long as I was actually their secretary. I had them all sat down, mentally deciding to add ‘alpha wrangling’ to my resume before going to make tea and then see if there was a way for compromise.

Kenshin was on edge, I wasn't allowed to sit anywhere, but on his lap or on the arm of the chair he was seated in. I knew that this was an alpha standoff, and only myself or Kiyo had the ability to resolve it.  

“Right, Shingen has proposed to myself and Kenshin," I held up two fingers to silence them both from talking. "That I would be working in the same role I am now, but instead for him, Yukimura and Sasuke. I would largely be based here and seeing as Kenshin works evenings and nights then it should mean I can actually do the job. I would be required on occasions to go with any of them to a client, or to the office, but for the most part, it would be remote work. So, I get the impression that you are reluctant to let me be transferred and to find potentially three new secretaries for yourself, Mitsuhide and Hideyoshi. Still, you have to admit, I can't be expected to attend to my job to you remotely unless there's a change and I am strictly referred to as your secretary. I can manage diaries, screen calls and arrange for an extent of data entry from digital means such as emails or photos. Still, the physical running around will need to be relegated. Maybe as a compromise, and because we all know I can and will sort you all out: I am the remote secretary for you all. Install a phone line in this apartment, give me back the laptop and cell phone for work purposes and update my job description. I will assist in training two individuals, one based at each site who are to do the physical running around and data entry that can't leave the site."

Nobunaga and Shingen both glared at each other. Still, it did provide them with a decent compromise and only finding two junior roles instead of three senior. They shook my outstretched hands in agreement before Hideyoshi was being told what to do on a phone call, and Yukimura was already trying to figure out what I would need to know.  

Kenshin was slow and thorough that evening. We had taken a bath together, and he’d spent the entire time teasing me before carrying me to the bed and then making love to me, instead of fucking me. His head was buried in the crook of my neck, his arms around my waist and snuggled against me.

"You did so well today, and with both visits," his smile was threatening to make me melt. His fingers were stroking my cheek as he kissed me on the forehead, before resting his head on my chest. My fingers stroked through his hair, letting my breathing fall in sync with his.  

“It never crossed anyone’s mind that I wouldn’t be mated with one of them, and now it’s thrown them all,” I said, staring up at the ceiling.

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” he firmly asserted, moving to look me in the eye.

"I know," I weakly smiled. "It's still stressful, though."

“That I will agree with.”

#ikesen #ikemen sengoku #Ikémen Sengoku #kenshin uesugi #modern au #heat #omega #alpha #beta

[starry-kfics]

baby [namjoon]

so this is an imagine that i meant to post like three days ago, but i accidentally posted it on my other account, like an idiot. anyways, hope y’all enjoy!

word count: 3168

warnings: none, just a hs au

author: mel

♡

Ringing the doorbell, you nervously looked at your phone to double check that you had the right address. Today you were supposed to start a babysitting job for a single mom that lived down the street from you. She had just moved in, and needed someone to watch her baby weeknights while she worked night shifts. You loved kids, and happily accepted the job.

The door was opened by a young woman who bowed to you. "Are you Y/L/N Y/N?"

"Yes, Ms. Kim." You bowed back, and followed her inside.

"It's wonderful to meet you. Let me go get Jaesun!"

As she bustled away, you got more excited, that must be the baby you were to watch. Standing silently, you were starting to get anxious. You didn't like just waiting there.

She returned with a small baby swaddled in blankets and started explaining his care and schedule. "This is little Jaesun. He eats at five-thirty, I already have his bottle in the fridge, you just need to warm it up for him. Two minutes. I also made you some food for you to eat as well. Jaesun likes his lullabies to be played when he goes to sleep, they're in the CD player in his room. And his bedtime is eight o'clock, but he's usually asleep by then."

"Okay, I've got it, Ms. Kim." You nodded, and she gave her son a kiss on the forehead before handing him to you.

"I'll be back at ten-thirty, that's okay with your parents, right?"

"Of course, I just live down the street." You assured her, cradling Jaesun close to you.

"Wonderful. Oh, one more thing, my younger brother lives with us as well. I'm not sure exactly where he is right now, he said he was out with his friends. He'll probably be back before I am."

"Okay."

"Thank you so much. Bye." Ms. Kim waved and gave the baby one last peck on the forehead before closing the door behind her.

Moving some of the blankets from around his head, you finally saw Jaesun's face. "There you are, baby." You smiled, and he looked up at you with the most precious eyes.

He didn't need to be fed for another hour and a half, so you decided to sit on the couch with him. You weren't sure if he could crawl yet, and he didn't seem to want to get out of the blankets either.

Babies were so easy to talk to, they didn't judge you or talk back. They just listened, and you found that Jaesun actually seemed to be paying attention, mystified by your voice.

There was a sudden crash from down the hall where the bedrooms were, and you froze. Was someone trying to break in?

Holding the baby even closer to you, you picked up your phone and took cautious steps away from the sound. You needed to call the police.

"Noona!" A male voice yelled from where the sound had come from. "I knocked my lamp over. Again."

You didn't respond, unsure of what to do. Jaesun had other ideas, immediately crying.

"Sh, sh, come on baby. It's okay, sh, sh." You tried to calm him down, but he was still screaming.

"Soojung noona! Jaesun is crying again." The voice came again, this time accompanied by the door opening.

A figure walked out from the room, and it seemed to be a young man of about your age.

"Soojung!" He yelled again, then stopped when he noticed you rocking the crying baby. "Oh, you must be the babysitter."

"Yes, I'm Y/L/N Y/N. Are you Ms. Kim's brother?" You kept rocking Jaesun, he was starting to calm down.

"Soojung? Yeah, she's my sister."

"She said you were with your friends."

The boy shook his head, looking at the ground. "No, we uh, we just moved here. So, I don't really have friends yet. I just told her that I had some to make her feel better."

"Oh."

"I'm Kim Namjoon, by the way." He bowed to you, and you nodded back, not able to bow with the baby in your hands.

"It's nice to meet you." You looked back down at Jaesun when you felt a tug on your neck, he had grabbed your necklace charm and stuck it in his mouth. "I don't think so, Jaesun."

Shaking your head, you took it back then stuck his pacifier in his mouth.

"You're really good with him." Namjoon said, and you smiled over at him for a second.

"Thanks. Uhm, not to be rude, but why did your sister hire me if you're here?"

"She doesn't trust me to babysit."

"Why?"

"I... tend to drop things."

You couldn't keep from laughing, and quickly composed yourself again. "Sorry."

Namjoon was grinning too, stroking his nephew's jet black hair for a moment. "Don't be, it is pretty funny. Until I drop poor Jaesun on his head or something."

"I guess you're not going to be holding him then."

"Nope." The older boy said, looking up from the baby to you.

It was then that you realized how close you two were, only Jaesun's small body in your arms separated you from Namjoon. Then you saw the wall clock, it was time to feed the baby.

"Oh! It's Jaesun's dinner time!" You said, walking into the kitchen to grab the bottle from the fridge. Then you called out to the boy you had left in the living room. "Ms. Kim made dinner, if you're hungry too, Namjoon."

"It's so weird to hear you call her Ms. Kim." He commented, following you into the kitchen. "She's always just been Soojung to me."

You placed the bottle in the microwave, and set it for two minutes. "Well that's because she's your sister. She's employed me."

Jaesun seemed very interested in the microwave, watching it whir and spin around.

"Well yeah, but it's still weird." Namjoon went over to the stove, where a large pot of soup sat.

You nodded, you couldn't imagine hearing your parents be called by their first names. The microwave dinged, and you shifted Jaesun to one arm to grab it. Making sure it wasn't too hot, you sat at the kitchen table to begin feeding him.

"Do you want some, Y/N?" Your companion asked, setting his bowl of soup on the table.

"My hands are full." You shrugged, in one hand was a baby and in the other was a bottle he was slowly nursing from.

"Here." Namjoon filled his spoon, then held it out to you, hand hovering underneath it to catch any falling drips.

"Namjoon, I'm fine, thank-" You were interrupted by your stomach growling very loud, which caused both boys to smile. "Fine."

Opening your mouth, you let him put the spoon in your mouth, and you accepted the soup off it. Chewing the piece of chicken that was in it, you swallowed the delicious broth. "Your sister is a very good cook!"

"I know." Namjoon grinned, dipping the utensil back in to take his own bite.

After Jaesun finished his bottle, you'd shared the bowl of soup with Namjoon and talked amicably. Apparently you went to the same school, and shared some teachers, but no classes.

Jaesun was wriggling around in his blanket cocoon. "Oh, you've got some energy now, huh?" You giggled, rinsing out the bottle before placing it on a towel to dry.

Walking into the living room, you unswaddled him before gently setting him on the floor. The baby immediately began crawling, and you smiled as he slowly moved across the floor.

"Hey, Y/N, it was great hanging out, but I've got some math homework to finish." Namjoon said from the doorway, looking reluctant to leave.

"Ooh, have fun." You shook your head, tickling Jaesun's feet. "If you need any help, I already finished mine."

"Thanks."

Once the older boy disappeared into his bedroom, you shifted your focus completely back to Jaesun. The baby was moving back towards you, and you sat down to watch him. He got even closer, and attempted to crawl over your legs.

"What are you doing, baby?" You laughed as he ended up rolling over. Helping him back on his front, you stroked his head. "There you go, Jaesun."

Jaesun kept playing around on the floor as you made sure he didn't bump into anything. You saw him trying to grab the edge of the table to stand himself up, and gently helped him, making sure he didn't fall. He took a hesitant step.

"Namjoon?" You called behind you, not able to contain your excitement. "Does Jaesun walk?"

"What? No." He yelled back, voice muffled as it went through the door.

"Well he's walking now!"

You heard his door get thrown open, and he came running out to join you in the living room. As soon as his uncle got there, Jaesun plopped down, as if he had never stood up.

"Aw, come on, Jaesun." Namjoon whined, running a hand through his own dark hair.

"Don't make a liar out of me." You laughed, helping him get back up.

Jaesun took a shaky step forward, then another. When you looked at Namjoon, you could see that his jaw had dropped, and it became the widest smile you'd seen.

"Look at you go!" He cooed, cheering on Jaesun. "You're walking! Your mom is gonna be so proud of you!"

You were beaming as you watched the fond interaction between the boys, appreciating how happy Namjoon was. Happiness looked so good on him. You hadn't even understood how long you'd been staring until you realized that Namjoon was holding a crying Jaesun out to you.

"His diaper isn't smelling too good." He informed you, and you took the child from him.

"Haven't you changed one of these?" You sighed, getting up off the floor.

"I'm not the babysitter."

With an eye roll, you walked into Jaesun's room to change his diaper. When you walked back out, you saw Namjoon sitting on the couch with a textbook across his lap and a sheepish smile on his face. "So uh, how good are you at math?"

You put Jaesun in his stationary bouncing chair, then sat beside Namjoon. As Jaesun bounced happily in the corner, you worked with the older boy on his math homework. He was struggling, but thankfully this was a topic you were good at.

"I don't get it!" Namjoon groaned, sitting back on the couch.

You removed the book from his lap and set it on the table. "Let's take a break, okay?"

"Okay."

"Namjoon, do you mind keeping an eye on Jaesun while I use the restroom?"

"Go ahead, it's the first door on your left." He pointed down the hallway where the bedrooms were.

Following his directions, you found the restroom. As you were washing your hands, you looked over yourself in the mirror. You looked disheveled and tired, but there was still a smile on your face; you were having fun with Namjoon and Jaesun.

Then you heard the cries of the baby, and you rushed to dry your hands off then run back out to the living room. Jaesun was still in his bouncer, screaming bloody murder.

"I didn't do anything!" Namjoon said defensively as you gave him a look.

Picking Jaesun up, you held him close to you, rocking him gently as you shushed him. "It's okay, baby. Shh, shh. Come on, it's okay."

Jaesun started to calm down, hiccupping as his tears subsided. "Aw, your face is all red now." You cooed, using his bib to wipe at his tears. "You're okay, Jaesun. You're okay."

Turning on your heel to face Namjoon, you raised your eyebrows questioningly. "Are you sure nothing happened?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I was just trying another problem and he started crying as soon he realized you were gone." The boy assured you, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

"Babies don't have a sense of object permanency. He probably thought I was gone forever." You laughed, tenderly squeezing his chubby cheeks. "I wouldn't leave you like that, Jaesun. I promise."

Jaesun wrapped his whole hand around your index finger and started sucking on it.

"Aw baby, you have a pacifier for that." Taking your finger back, you stuck his purple pacifier in his mouth before he could cry again.

Sitting back on the couch with Jaesun in your lap, you looked expectantly at Namjoon. "We've got five more problems, you can do this, Namjoon."

When he was finally finished with his homework, it was five minutes till eight. Jaesun was already nodding off in your arms, and you stood up as slowly as you could to avoid disturbing him.

"I've gotta put him to bed now." You whispered to Namjoon, and he nodded.

In Jaesun's room, you gently changed his clothes, then put him into his crib. You found the CD player Ms. Kim had mentioned, and started it at the first track. A beautiful piano lullaby played, and you put a few blankets on Jaesun.

"Goodnight, Jaesun. I'll see you tomorrow." You kissed two fingers, then placed them on his forehead.

The door creaked behind you, and you turned to see Namjoon walking into the room. "I like to say goodnight as well."

You stepped back from the crib to let Namjoon tell his nephew goodnight. Then, you both left his room together, making sure to leave the door cracked open just a little, in case Jaesun woke up and started crying.

"Ah," Namjoon stretched before falling onto the couch. "We've got two and half more hours, now what?"

"Do you have all your other homework done, Namjoon?" You questioned.

"Y/N, you're babysitting Jaesun, not me."

"But still-"

"Y/N." Namjoon interrupted you sternly, patting the open couch beside him. "Relax. Jaesun is asleep, your job is done for today."

"Unless he wakes up." You murmured as he grabbed your hands to pull you onto the couch.

"Then you'll deal with it then. Now, let's find a movie to watch." He let go of you to grab the remote and turn on the TV.

"Quietly, so we don't wake Jaesun."

"Yes, quietly."

Through the whole movie, there wasn't a single sound from Jaesun's room. Just as the credits started rolling, the sound of the front door unlocking met your ears, and you stood up to greet the woman walking in.

"Hello, Ms. Kim." You bowed to her, speaking quietly. "Jaesun is asleep."

"Thank you." She smiled, then saw Namjoon on the couch you had just stood up from, half-asleep. "I see you met my brother as well."

"Yes." You confirmed, nudging him to get up. "Namjoon, your sister is home."

"Soojung!" Namjoon exclaimed, leaping up to hug his sister.

She shushed him as she hugged him back. "Hey Namjoon. You didn't bother Y/N, right?"

"He scared me half to death at first, I thought someone was breaking in." You admitted, laughing at the memory of you clutching your phone. It seemed much longer than a few hours ago.

When Ms. Kim gave her brother a disappointed look, Namjoon rolled his eyes. "No, I didn't bother her. She even offered to help me with my homework."

She looked to you, and you nodded. "Do I need to pay you for tutoring as well?" She asked, digging into her purse.

"No! No, you don't!" You insisted, you knew that a single mother supporting her son and her brother had to be tight on money. "Please, it was my pleasure."

"Thank you." She smiled, handing you just the amount for babysitting for the week.

"It was no problem, I had fun with the boys tonight."

"I'm glad Namjoon wasn't too much a bother."

"I'm not a bother." He insisted as his sister reached up to mess up his hair.

"I'll be going home now, unless you need anything else from me, Ms. Kim." You announced.

"Yes, go home. Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow." The older woman bowed to you. "Thank you again, Y/N."

"You're welcome. Goodnight." Bowing back to her, then to Namjoon, you turned to walk out.

"Here," Namjoon was suddenly at your side, opening the door for you. "I'll walk you home."

"I just live down the street."

"It's dark outside, you shouldn't be walking alone at this time."

Turning to his sister, you asked, "Is that okay?"

"Of course!" She grinned. "It's good to see Namjoon finally acting like a gentleman."

"Soojung." He groaned as she waved you two out the door.

As you walked down the sidewalk, you couldn't wipe the smile from your face. "I had a really good time tonight, thank you Namjoon."

"So did I." He replied, a small smirk on his face as he looked down at you. "Thanks for helping me with the math homework."

"It's one of the few things I'm good at."

"Don't talk like that, I'm sure you're good at a lot of things. You're really good with kids, Jaesun loves you."

"Thanks. How about you, Namjoon, what are you good at?"

"I don't like bragging, but, I like writing songs, and raps."

"Do you sing and rap as well?"

"Sometimes, yeah. I just wish I had someone to collaborate with."

You grinned as a thought formulated in your mind. "I should introduce you to Min Yoongi, then."

"Min Yoongi?" Namjoon asked, and you could in the faint lamppost light that he looked despaired. "Is that your boyfriend?"

"Oh my god, no!" You laughed, having to cover your face to keep from snorting. "He's one of my best friends, he does rapping and songwriting too."

"Good."

Finally, you were at your front door. "Thank you for walking me home, Namjoon."

"No problem. Like I said, you shouldn't walk alone this late at night."

"Well, goodnight then."

Just as your hand grabbed the door handle, Namjoon's grabbed yours, stopping you. "Y/N?"

"Yes?" You turned to him, he looked absolutely ethereal in the soft light of your porch lights.

"Could I see you again?"

"I'll be at your house tomorrow." You answered with a laugh, and he shook his head in response.

"I mean without the crying baby. Just us two." His dark brown eyes looked into yours.

Looking down at your hands that were still holding each other's, you took a deep breath to gain your courage. "As in, a date?"

"That's what I'd like."

"Then yes, I'd love to, Namjoon."

Namjoon's smile grew, dimples deepening in his cheeks, which made him even more adorable to you. "This Saturday? We could go get lunch."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Okay. Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Namjoon." You grinned as he turned to leave. "One more thing?"

"Hm?" As soon as he turned back to you, you got on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"See you tomorrow." With a satisfied skip in your step, you walked inside, leaving Namjoon on his porch, fingers gracing the cheek that you had just pecked.

#imagines: namjoon #bts #bangtan sonyeodan #bangtan boys #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts scenario #bts scenarios #namjoon #kim namjoon #majoon imagine #namjoon imagines #kim namjoon imagine #kim namjoon imagines #namjoon scenario #namjoon scenarios #kim namjoon scenario #kim namjoon scenarios #author: mel #fluff #namjoon fluff #yet another imagine that ive had written for like 5 months but never posted yet #and again its something to tide y'all over until my sanha imagine that im hyped abt!! #q #*mel

[stars-that-shine-at-night]

If the Shoe Fits Park Jimin x Reader Ballet Au!

1   2   3   4 

Disclaimer: I am not actually Korean, I just learned how to cook these foods from watching my aunt (ahjumma) while I was growing up. 

Jimin shuffled into the student kitchen of Etre. No one actually cooked in the kitchen, it was mainly used for the refrigerator, to store healthy snacks and produce. His head was still pounding, and sweat clung to his sticky skin. He cursed Hoseok for dressing him in actual pajamas, as he popped off the top button of the shirt. His body felt like it was on fire, and he badly needed water. Just by coincidence Yoongi was in the kitchen too, eating some yogurt. 

“Wow you look like hell,” Yoongi stated plainly. 

“I feel like I’m in hell.” Jimin gasped out, reaching for a glass. Jimin barely had the glass in his hands, and he felt it slip from his grip. The glass fell with a sharp shattering sound, followed by a blunt thump, as if a body hit the ground. 

“Jimin!” Yoongi rushed out of his seat to shake the boy who was passed out on the floor. Yoongi touched Jimin’s forehead, it was slick with sweat and felt extremely hot. 

“Shit,” Yoongi cursed. Jimin was sick, he must have been getting sick, from all that practicing. With his fall today, he finally started to rest, and his whole body caught up with him, and hit him hard. 

“What happened?! Yoongi are you okay?” Namjoon and Hoseok came running into the kitchen. 

“We heard a glass shattering,” Hoseok said.

“H-he’s just sick. I felt his temperature,” Yoongi stuttered out.

“He’s probably going to need some of the right nutrients to get better quickly,” Namjoon thought out loud.

“Where are we going to get that at two in the morning?” Yoongi asked. 

“I think I know,” Hoseok said, finally cutting in. 

                                                           ~

“Unnie, your phone is ringing.” Sehwa mumbled drowsily, as she shook you awake. 

“I’ll get it. Just go back asleep okay?” Sehwa nodded and crawled back under her covers. You grabbed your phone and it read ‘HO-seok’ on it. You stepped out of your shared room and answered the call.

“The hell do you want?!” you whispered yelled into your phone, trying not to wake up the other family members in your house. “This better be good. Do you know how hard it is to put a seven year old back to sleep after you have woken them up?!” 

“I’m sorry, I just need a favor. Jimin is sick-”

“What does that have to do with me?” You sharply cut Hoseok off. 

“I know you do not like Jimin, but you are the only one who can make the foods for when people are sick at this time. Please help him, actually no, not for him for me. (y/n) he’s my friend.” Hoseok pleaded. You sighed and massaged the bridge of your nose, you rarely ever heard Hoseok this stressed, and rarely he asked much of you. 

“Fine I’ll do it, but I am only doing this for you. Give me twenty minutes-” 

“Unnie, can you tuck me in?” Sehwa’s voice interrupted you, as she peaked her tiny head out from behind the door. 

“Never mind, give me at most an hour. Do you guys have a kitchen?”

“Yes, there is a kitchen we have some basic seasonings in here and all the equipment.” 

“Good, I’ll be there.” You rummaged through your kitchen to find some stuff that you would need. Ginseng, a jujube, garlic, rice, and green onions. You bit your lip looking at the full Cornish hen that was sitting in your refrigerator, you needed it for the soup, but your mom also needed it. ‘Snap out of it (y/n), you’re doing this for Hoseok, you’ll bear the yelling from mom just this once.’ You mentally scolded yourself and took the chicken. You quickly wrote a note to your mom apologizing for taking the chicken and saying you’ll buy another one once you got back. You put everything in a big bag along with some prepacked side dishes, apple pears, honey, and a jar of citron tea. 

You walked back into your room to put Sehwa back to sleep, and that was another twenty minutes of patting her on the back and stroking her hair to get her to pass out again. You had twenty minutes left to get to Etre, and there were no trains running. You ran out of your house with the heavy bag, and into the city where you can hail a cab. You paid the driver some extra money so he could get you there faster. You looked up at the gates, and they were closed. You pushed the heavy iron gate open and they groaned loudly from being moved. You quickly took a scan of your surroundings to see if anyone woke up. Hoseok was at the entrance of Etre’s dorms with the door open for you. 

“You owe me for all the grief I went through just to get here,” You said as you made a mad dash for the kitchen. 

“I agree that I do,” Hoseok said as he ran with you. When you got to the kitchen you washed the rice, and started to soak it. While the rice was soaking you cleaned the chicken abrasively with salt. 

“Is there something I can help you with?” Hoseok asked. 

“Boil some water for me.” You said, still focusing on the chicken, Hoseok silently obeyed and started to boil a kettle full of water. Hoseok also started to unload all of the food you had brought onto the counters, so you could have easy accessibility to each ingredient. Namjoon looked at all food and noticed what you were making. 

“Samgyetang (ginseng chicken soup)? How did you know Jimin had a fever?” 

“I didn’t, I just went with my gut.” You said washing your hands so you can tie your hair up. You washed your hands once more and continued to clean the chicken. You pulled out giblets of the chicken, you cut away the skin and all of the fat off the chicken, also the tips of the wings, so the chicken could fit in the earth ware pot you found. You peeled eight cloves of garlic and cut of their tips off, after you peeled the garlic, you heated up the earth ware pot on the stove with some water in it. You heard the kettle whistle with steam, and you immediately took it off the fire. You poured the hot water into a tea cup and scooped out one spoonful of the citron tea marmalade into the water, and stirred. After that you washed the ginseng root and jujube. Your mouth made an audible ‘tch’ sound when you realized there wasn’t enough time to let the rice fully soak, but you started to stuff the chicken anyways. You first put in four cloves of garlic, rice, ginseng, rice, the jujube, rice, and the rest of the garlic. You picked up the full chicken and placed it in the pot, you placed the remaining rice in the pot, and more water for broth. 

“So how does (y/n) know how to make all of this?” Namjoon asked Hoseok. 

“Well she learned from her watching her grandma, and started to cook more for her parents and siblings after her grandmother died. Her mother was in so much grief she wouldn’t cook or doing anything at all for months.” Hoseok answered. You let soup cook on medium heat for thirty minutes, you set the timer and started to peel and dice the apple pears. You place the diced pears on a plate and drizzled honey on them. You carried the tea and the plate of fruit up to Jimin’s room. When you got to his room you saw him lying in bed with another boy watching him. You knew of  Yoongi, but you didn’t really know him. 

“Thank god you are here. I was getting a little worried. He has a fever, and he’s been coughing and sniffling a while in bed.” Yoongi explained. You crinkled your nose. 

“Sounds like he has the flu, it has been getting colder,” you placed the plate of pears on Jimin’s nightstand. With your free hand you pulled the cold rag on his forehead. 

“He needs to sweat off this flu, don’t let him cool down, keep him hydrated, not cool. If you let him cool down his fever will persist.” You instructed. You blew on the hot tea a little to make it a bit cooler, so Jimin could drink it. 

“Jimin wake up you need to drink this,” you said, placing your palm on his shoulder to shake him. You help him sit up a bit so he can take slow sips of the tea. You supported him by wrapping your arms around his shoulders and shoulder blades. His eyes were closed, but he still drank the tea. When he was half way done with the cup, you started to hand feed him a couple of cubes of the apple pears. 

When did Miju get here?” Jimin asked Yoongi, you rolled your eyes. 

“Out of all of the times you offended me Park Jimin, I’ve never been as offended as I am now. I am not that ditzy fake ass Yoo Miju.” You sneered, but Jimin was too sick to hear you. Yoongi laughed at your response. 

“Jimin was right you are smart mouthed like me.” He said, you turned to face Yoongi. 

“I guess,” you shrugged as you continued to feed Jimin. 

“This should stop his coughing for a little bit,” you made Jimin finish that cup of tea, then you left to go back to the kitchen to check on the soup. You turned the heat down to low for another half hour, you peeled more apple pears and diced them. You placed the apple pairs into cold water so they wouldn’t turn brown later on. You placed a note on the bowl saying ‘Park Jimin’ so no one would eat it. You also wrote a note to remind Hoseok or Namjoon to later in drizzle honey, and have Jimin eat that snack two or three times during the day. 

“What in god’s name are you doing?!” You quickly turned to see a woman standing in the kitchen with you. You had no idea who she was, or what to say, so you froze. 

“Wait Madame Hyojeong it’s okay.” Hoseok said as he came running back, he left for a few moments because he was in the bathroom. Namjoon went back to his room, because Hoseok urged him to get sleep. 

“She’s here to help Jimin. He’s sick and she’s the only one I know who could make samgyetang,” Hoseok explained. Madame Hyojeong studied your face, and noticed your eyes. 

“Are you the dandelion maker? (l/n) Minjae’s granddaughter?” Madame Hyojeong asked. You didn’t answer, but you stared back at Madame Hyojeong, she was a bit familiar to you. You imagined her face without glasses, less defined wrinkles, and a smile. 

“You’re Lee Hyojeong aren’t you?” Hoseok’s eyebrow shot up. You have never met any of the staff, except for Master Daejung. 

“My grandfather made pointe shoes for you, I remember watching you dance as Swanhilda in Coppelia,” you continued, Madame Hyojeong softly gasped. 

“You are his granddaughter, you have the eyes.” 

“Wait what is going on here?” Hoseok interrupted, Madame Hyojeong cleared her throat. 

“Never mind that Mister Jung. Mister Park is sick?”

“Yes,” you answered, “Hoseok asked me to come. He did not force me, I came here on my free will.” You were going to stand your ground, it didn’t matter to you. Hoseok needed help, you were his friend. There was a shimmer in Madame Hyojeong’s eyes when she smiled. 

“You really are like Minjae. I’ll leave to your business Miss (l/n),” Madame Hyojeong said, as she turned and left. 

 “How did she know your name?” Hoseok asked.  “I guess you can say I’ve known her since I was a little girl,” you said shrugging. Your timer for the final thirty minutes went off you looked under the lid of the pot. The chicken is fully cooked with the rice, and the broth was beautifully clear. You let the soup get to another running boil and then took it off the heat, and placed green onions on top of it. 

“Go to bed Hoseok, you have class tomorrow,” you said.

“No, I can’t leave you alone,” Hoseok argued. 

“I can call in sick tomorrow, you still have class,” You were firm, but yet you weren’t yelling at him. Hoseok sighed, defeated. 

“Fine.” He said, as he walked back to his room. “Thank you again (y/n).” He said finally and left. You went back up to Jimin’s room to see that Yoongi was gone also, but the plate of apple pears was empty. It was around five in the morning, there was no way Jimin was going to class the next day. 

“Jimin, I have samgyetang with more tea. Come you need to eat.” Jimin weakly groaned, but couldn’t get up. You helped him up and out of his blankets, you then crouched in front of him. 

“Get on,” you said showing your back to him. Jimin used his little to none energy to slump on to your back. You lifted yourself and him up with your legs, and adjusted him once you were fully stood up. You walked all the way down to the kitchen, you placed him in a chair, but his eyes were still closed. It was like it was painful to open his eyes. You placed the bowl of soup in front of him, and an empty to plate to put all the rice and ginseng on. You also put down a cup of fresh tea and side dishes around. You didn’t expect Jimin to actually eat all of this, but it was better to have more than less in this case, and left overs were good. 

“Jimin can you feed yourself?” You asked, you answered by Jimin slumping forward and almost falling face first into the chicken. You quickly caught his head and pushed him back by his shoulders. 

“I am going to take that as a no,” you mumbled under your breath as you began to break apart the soft flesh of the chicken. You got some rice broth and a little bit of chicken onto a spoon and fed it to Jimin. He opened his mouth surprisingly, you made sure he sat up and kept his head up so he wouldn’t choke. You found the jujube, and started to peel the hot fruit so you could find the seed, that wasn’t supposed to be eaten. You ignored the burning feeling until you found the seed, you lightly blew the steam away, and fed it to Jimin. You scooped out the rice from the chicken and let it fall out on to the plate. You scooped the rice up and blew on it, you also made Jimin choke down the bits of the ginseng root. Apparently he doesn’t like eating it straight, but you still forced him. 

“The chicken is too plain…” You heard a small voice, Jimin’s eyes were slightly open. His face was still shiny from all the sweat that was produced from the soup. 

“I personally like the chicken with salt and sesame oil sauce,” he said. 

“Well…at least I know for sure I am not feeding a dead body,” you said, shoving another spoonful into Jimin’s mouth to shut him up. Jimin closed his eyes again, as you brought up the cup of tea to his mouth. You dabbed at his lips with a napkin, and you could feel the plushness of his lips through the paper. You were able to get him to eat some kimchi, half of the chicken, the whole ginseng root, the jujube, all the rice, and half of the cloves the garlic. You poured more water into the pot, and placed it back on the stove, so there would be more broth later. You helped Jimin finish off the rest of his tea, and sat back in his seat. He was breathing heavily from the heat, you knew you weren’t supposed to let him cool off, but you ran a clean soft rag under room temperature water to wipe Jimin’s face. You lifted up his black bangs so you could wipe his forehead of its sticky sheen. While you wiped his forehead you noticed he had three prominent moles on his forehead. Their placing kind of reminded you of an isosceles triangle, it was cute…

The lowest one was a bit above the inner corner of his eyebrow, another was place above that last one, but there was one in between the two on his right forehead. The last one was above the mid part of his left eye brow. You shook yourself out of the trance that was Jimin’s forehead, and continued to wipe the rest of his face; over his cheeks, upper lip, lips, nose, and the back of his neck. Instead of having a shiny appearance, Jimin’s skin now had a dewy appearance. You walked over to the earth ware pot and took it off of the stove and placed it on the counter. It was still hot, so you couldn’t put it in the fridge. Instead, you placed its matching lid on it with a note saying that the soup was Jimin’s and a short set of instructions on how to heat up the soup for him later on. You packed up the rest of the food and wrote Jimin’s name on them, along with the tea. You pulled out the chair Jimin was sitting on so he could climb onto your back. While you were walking up to his room you had to stop for a little and take a breather. You exhaled heavily, Jimin wasn’t too heavy, you were just tired from getting up early and cooking. You pulled out your phone to check the time, it was already six in the morning, you cursed under your breath. The other boys will be waking up soon, and that’s the last thing you wanted. 

To be caught as a girl in boys dorm with a boy on your back. You muscled your way to Jimin’s room without any of the boys actually seeing you, because none of them, luckily, left their rooms yet. You opened the door to Jimin’s door and quickly closed it. You really wanted to just drop Jimin on to his bed, but with the bit of energy you had, you gently laid him down. You were about to tuck him, but you heard him sniffling and started to cough. ‘I guess his fever is almost gone.’  You thought. That samgyetang work wonders you guessed. You ran back down to the kitchen grabbed the vapor rub, another cup of tea and ran back quickly to Jimin’s room without spilling or being seen. You placed the cup on his nightstand, and you were about to open the vapor rub, but you stopped when Jimin sat up. 

“I….need…the restroom…” He slurred. You groaned internally, yes he needed that tea, but it would also make him pee. You lifted him up princess style and carried him to the bathroom. You let stand steadily and turned away from the toilet. 

“Do your business by yourself okay?” Your cheeks were burning, you were literally in the bathroom with another boy who was not your brother or at least ten years younger than you. You visibly cringed when you heard the liquid sounds from behind you. You finally turned around when you herd the sound of fabric being pulled up. Jimin waddled to the sink and washed his hands, he was at the towel drying his hands, until he almost fell over from falling asleep again. You caught him and picked him up. 

“Jeez, the hell is wrong with you. I’ve never seen anyone this sleepy while having the flu.” You said to yourself, you walked back to Jimin’s bed, but his roommates were now awake. Luckily it was only Taehyung and Seokjin. 

“If any of you say a word about this I will deny everything, then slit your throats making your deaths look like accidents.” You said, not bothering to face them. Both boys didn’t say anything because they partly amazed and terrified. It was amazing that you were carrying Jimin, and terrified from your impressive strength that your threat seemed a little bit more real. 

“Hyung…” Taehyung weakly said, “I gotta pee now.” He said, and ran to the bathroom out of fear. You placed Jimin back on is bed, and shook your wrists out. 

“Can you believe?” you turned to face Seokjin, “that, I, the girl actually had to carry him like a princess? I guessed it is now confirmed Park Jimin is now a princess.” You said, chuckling at your own joke. You looked up and saw Seokjin with a nervous smile. 

“More power to you?” He said, then retreated to the bathroom quickly. Both boys impressively got ready at a fast pace, and left you alone with a sleeping Jimin. You finally got to the vapor rub and opened it without interruptions this time. You noticed the weight of everything you were about to do, when you saw the little bit of flesh that was exposed when Jimin undid his first button. This wasn’t your brother, this was a boy was not related to you by blood or marriage, Jimin wasn’t even your friend for crying out loud. But after five minutes of mentally slapping yourself and pulling up the courage you started to undo the rest Jimin’s pajama shirt. You decided to stop once you have cleared his chest. You wanted to save some of his and your dignity. You technically didn’t have his consent, and you were probably going to get yelled at by him, but you remembered you were doing this for Hoseok, your friend. You dipped your fingers into the creamy ointment and scooped a little out to rub onto Jimin’s chest. You started to slowly rub into his skin, trying to work it in while not waking him up. The skin of his chest was very smooth and you can feel the bumps and ridges of his fit muscles and tendons. It took a very a long time to cover his whole chest. You also delicately rubbed some of the rub on his throat, trying not to crush it or wake him up. The last part you covered was his nostrils. It was only a light coat that was meant to clear up his sinuses while he slept. You softly started to loop the buttons on Jimin’s shirt into their holes, covering up his skin by one clasp at a time. When you were done with the shirt you pulled his comforter up to his chin so he would be warm in spite of the harsh cold October mornings. You placed a note next to Jimin’s cup of tea telling to drink it even if it was cold. You sat next to Jimin’s bed and started to think about what you should make next, maybe yukgaejang? That would big time knock the cold out of him, You stood up to leave, but you were stopped because something grabbed onto you. You turned to see Jimin gripping onto the sleeve of your sweatshirt. He took his other hand and moved up your arm to pull you to him. He wrapped his long arms around what was your small frame, you could every breath he took and every beat his heart made. 

“Thank you for taking care of me (y/n).” He whispered into your ear. You pulled yourself out from his grip and laid him back down. 

“Ugh, I guess you become crazy when you are sick too huh?” You said, and left his room to run to the grocery store to buy food. You bought everything you didn’t have at home for yukgaejang, and all of the ingredients you needed to replace at home. After you bought everything you needed. you took the train home and replaced the hen you took from your mom. 

“(y/n) what are you doing up so early?” Your mom asked when she saw you in the kitchen digging around for hot pepper flakes and other seasonings that weren’t in the Etre kitchen. 

“Hoseok’s wanted me to make yukgaejang because Park Jimin is sick.” 

“Don’t forget to add rice, the rice will help fill him up so he gets more energy.” Your mother stated plainly. You turned and packed a small handful of red beans and rice. Red beans were high in helpful nutrients. You packed everything in another bag with all of the food you bought from the grocery store. 

“I promise I’ll re-buy everything I took mom,” you called out as you ran out the door. 

“You’re actually letting her go?” Jaewook asked as he took a seat at the dining table. 

“After all these years I stuck her behind a work bench, I feel really bad that she didn’t have as much fun as a regular teenager does. I even had more freedom than her.” Your mom said as she watched your running figure from the kitchen window. 

“Your dad actually mentioned she made a new friend yesterday and she was having dinner with him. I only remember Chaerin and Hoseok being (y/n)’s only friends. I robbed my daughter of that, I can’t get the past friends she could have made back. But what I can do now is let her have the friends she is making in the present.“ Your mom finally as said, as she disappeared into the house to wake up Sehwa.

You were riding the train back to Etre when you saw Jaejung squeeze his way through the mass of bodies. 

"Whoa what clan are you feeding darling?” Jaejung asked when he noticed the giant bag of food you were carrying. 

"Well that spoiled Siegfried got sick, and his close friend begged me to take care of him. I am now his shoemaker and cook.“ You said rolling your eyes. 

"Are you always a comedian twenty-four seven (l/n) (y/n)?“ 

"I’m here all week." 

 "What are you making?” Jaejung asked, changing the subject. 

"Yukgaejang.“ 

 "Oh that’s my favorite." 

 "I promise I will make it for you another day, deal?" 

 "Deal.” You and Jaejung linked your pinkies together and twisted your hands up so your thumbs touched. You felt you phone buzz in your pocket.  

HO-seok: Status update 

(y/n)iie: Uh….Fine I guess. I’m not with him at the moment….

HO-seok: What?! 

(y/n)iie: Before you go ham on me, I left him because I went to get more food for him.

HO-seok: Oh….that makes more sense now. Sorry for bothering you ^-^ 

You breathed out a sigh of relief, you were safe from Hoseok’s wrath. Hoseok was extremely friendly, you would agree if someone said he was the sun, but if you messed with his friends it was game over. 

HO-seok: Do you need any help? You’re probably tired.

(y/n)iie: get me a cup of strong green tea, and I’ll be good. I can handle the rest. 

You got off the train with Jaejung and walked with him through the city. While you were walking you two were talking about dancing some more. He was very passionate and loved teaching as well. He was telling about how excited he was to show off his new choreography as soon as it was done. Your heart fluttered, you never got to experience a first love given you only went to middle school, and for high school you were practically home schooled. 

"Hey do you want me to carry that bag into Etre for you? You look tired.“ Jaejung offered. You were about to say no, but he was already taking it from. 

"But don’t you have to go to work?” You said helplessly. 

"Don’t worry about it too much Darling, they won’t miss me too much.“ Jaejung lifted the bag and placed it onto his broad shoulders. 

"Is it too heavy?” You asked as you rotated your cramped shoulder. 

"It’s not too bad, I think I’ve lifted heavier in the gym.“ Jaejung answered. "Are you worried about me darling?” Jaejung smirked. 

"I mean obviously if I am asking.“ You replied bluntly. Jaejung laughed at your response, most girls would be all blushy and deny their feelings. Your straight to point personality was what attracted Jaejung, that meant you would never lie. You got to Etre and walked all the way to the student kitchen. The gates were now open so you didn’t have to open them yourself. Jaejung managed to sneak his way in without a pass with you. He set down the bag of food and took a breath. 

"Okay, that bag does get heavy after a while.” He admitted. You tossed a bottle of water at him and unloaded the bag. 

"I’ll see you around darling.“ He waved. 

"See you later Jaejung.” You waved back and watched him leave. You stored all of the perishable food into the refrigerator with Jimin’s name on them. Last thing you needed was to have another dancer think that food wasn’t anyone’s, eating it, and forcing you to go back out and buy more. 

You made another cup of hot citron tea and walked up to Jimin’s room. It was eight in the morning now, Sehwa should be already on her bus…

You were little disappointed that you didn’t have the time to walk with her again. You probably would have bought her chocolate after she was on the bus so she could have it after dinner, guess that’ll be for another time. You walked up to see if Jimin was awake, he wasn’t, not that you were shocked that he was still slumbering. You woke him up gently so you could get him to sit up and drink he tea. You supported his back while he slowly took sips. He still had a slight fever, but your yukgaejang was gonna knock this fever out of him, you knew it. Jimin finished half of the cup, and he pulled away from the tea. He looked and saw your face. Your hair was slightly messy, it wasn’t as neat as it usually was, there were some stray baby hairs that framed you face. The rays from the sun outlined your figure he could have sworn he was dead. His body still felt warm and heavy with sleep. 

“(y/n)?” Jimin muttered out in a low whisper. You started to lower his body back on to the bed. 

“Just go back to sleep Jimin.” You mumbled as you pulled the blanket back on him. 

Miju saw the whole scene, you left the door open, and Miju couldn’t help but peek inside. She saw you feed Jimin the tea, the brief moment you two talked, and tucking JImin in. Her grip tightened around the large canister of chicken soup. She couldn’t cook actually it was just soup from a can. There was a pang in her chest that pulsated with pain. She was sure that you knew Jimin for less time that she did, why were you here? 

Miju walked away from the Jimin’s room, and hid out of your line of sight when she heard your footsteps coming towards her. You closed Jimin’s door behind you and walked down to the kitchen to prepare everything for the yukgaejang, yukgaejang was not hard, just time consuming. You started be soaking and washing the gosari, while the beans were boiling, re-soaking in water so they were plump and supple to eat. You also placed the bright red brisket meat into a bowl of cold water to soak up some excess blood. While you were waiting for everything to soak or boil you started to chop the large green onion, cutting it into small stalks, and each stalk in half so Jimin could swallow them. After the green onions were done you started to wash the mung bean sprouts, rinsing a couple it couple of times so the vegetables, to get rid of the leaves. leaving only the milky stalks. When the gosari was done soaking you rinsed the mountain vegetables with cold water, getting rid of anymore lingering dust. You grabbed and handful and cut the stems into halves. You strained the boiled red beans saving the bean water so you could cook it with the rice. While you straining the beans you heard a pair of slippers scuffling across the hard wood floor of the kitchen, you looked and saw Jimin. He was actually awake, you felt your chest flutter, you were so proud that your home cooking brought him back alive. Meaning that you didn’t poison him, leaving a very angry school of dancers… 

“Morning sunshine…or should I say afternoon?” You said as you looked at the clock reading ‘1:45′. 

“You sure I didn’t die and go to hell, because you’re here with me?” Jimin replied sarcastically. 

“You know it’s not too late to slip arsenic into your food.” You mumbled and shot Jimin an evil glare. You walked away from the beans and started to re-heat the half eaten samgyetang on the stove. Jimin watched you walk around the kitchen, as you started to pour something into a sauce plate. 

"Wait do you actually have arsenic?!” Jimin gulped. 

“No, do you really think I’m a psycho?” You said as you placed the dipping sauce next to Jimin. It was for the chicken….Jimin did say in his sleep that his favorite was the sesame oil and salt dip for the chicken. 

“My favorite….” Jimin stared down at the plate. 

“Yeah, you kind of told me in your sleep.” You explained. 

“You actually listened?” 

“There was no one else here but me when you said that.”

“I just didn’t expect you to listen. I mean told Miju that during the summer when we got samgytang, but she only got that honey soy sauce dip.”  You crinkled your nose. 

“The two things I hate: people who don’t listen and that sauce.” Jimin chuckled at your response.

“So you don’t like honey soy sauce?”

“Ew, no.” You replied curtly, and removed the soup from the stove and placed it front of Jimin. You also set down another plate from him to use just in case and a set of utensils. 

“Thanks,” Jimin started to eat the dish. He stared down longingly at the soup. 

“Is there something wrong with it? I swear I-”

“It just reminds me of Jihyun.” Jimin said, cutting you off. 

“I’m sorry, but who?” You asked giving him a puzzled look. 

“He’s my little brother. We use to eat samgyetang together as little kids, and I’ve never had samgyetang that taste like this while I was away from home.” Jimin sniffled. You could have sworn you heard Jimin’s voice crack, but you opted not to say anything. 

“Is it good?”

 “It’s actually one of the best I’ve ever had.” Jimin said, “where did you learn how to make this?”

“My grandma taught me when I was younger. My mom didn’t trust me in the kitchen at that age. My grandma…believed in me…she was something else.” You muttered. Jimin could tell that this was a sensitive subject for you and didn’t say anything else, and continued to eat, dipping the bland flesh of chicken into the salty oil. Jimin finished the whole chicken, rice, garlic, and broth. 

“How’s your throat?” 

“It’s still sore and scratchy.” Jimin admitted. You walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out the cold bowl of apple pears. You grabbed a couple of handfuls, dried them off with paper towel, and drizzled honey over them. 

“Our cook use to do this for me when I was sick.” Jimin said, popping a couple cubes into his mouth, filling his cheeks.

“Cook?”

“Yeah, my parents hired her. My mom doesn’t really know how to cook.” Jimin said, as he continued to eat. You poured Jimin a fresh cup of tea, which he drank without saying anything. He was asleep whenever you made him drink the citron tea, now he could finally taste it. 

‘It’s sweet…and sour…like her.’  He thought as he drank the warm tea. 

“Let me feel your forehead,” you said, while walking over to Jimin. Before he could say anything you slid your palm under his bangs and felt his forehead, and smiled. Jimin could feel his blood careening into his cheeks. He’s never had a girl touch him like this or smile at him this closely. You quickly pulled your hand away and did a little victory dance. 

“Yes! I did it, your fever is gone. That means Hoseok won’t kill me~!” You said, acting dorky until you went back to your spot at the kitchen to continue Jimin’s dinner. 

“You can go back to bed now.” You said shooing Jimin away. Jimin hung his head and walked back to his room. 

You washed the rice added the red beans and the red bean water and began to cook the red bean rice. You also put the soaked beef, some dried mushrooms, and onions into a pit of boiling water to create the broth. 

                                                                   ~

“Wait you mean (y/n) carried Jimin?” Hoseok asked, “(l/n) (y/n)?” Taehyung and Seokjin blankly nodded. 

“See, that’s why you don’t mess with her. She’s insanely strong.” Chaerin snickered. 

“I’d say she’s like Doo Bong Soon.” Taehyung added, Yoongi slapped Taehyung in the back of the head. 

“Don’t over exaggerate. This isn’t a drama.” Yoongi hissed. 

“That still is impressive, she carried Jimin multiple times.” Namjoon said, "she must be tired, she’s been awake since two in the morning.” 

Hoseok frowned, he felt guilt nibble at him. He asked you to sacrifice a bunch for a person you didn’t even like. This was your own time you were throwing away for him.  

“She’s a good person, I’ll make sure I’ll make it up to her somehow.” Hoseok admitted. 

“We should reserve a front seat for her at ‘Sleeping Beauty’ and buy her dinner afterwords!” Jungkook excitedly suggested. 

“That’s a terrific idea, what do you think Miju?” Chaerin asked, Miju didn’t say anything up to this point in their conversation, and she usually would have thrown her to cents in by now. 

“Yeah….that sounds great.” She answered quietly. No one really was concerned about her silent response, and continued onto a new subject to talk about. 

Jimin actually slept as you cooked in the kitchen. Now that the stock was  made and you shredded up the beef you added the chili peppers, sugar, and oils that gave yukgaejang that famous kicking heat. It was almost dinner time, and your stomach rumbled, crying for you to feed it. You totally forgot to eat during the day, you pulled out your phone and called up a nearby restaurant to drop off food. The other students of Etre were eating dinner in the dining hall, so you were pretty safe. When ever you heard someone coming you would make a mad dash for the bathroom and lock the door. You poured the soup into another earth ware pot, and started to scoop out the rice in a bowl, and placed it on the table with other dishes. You went to Jimin's room to see he was actually awake, sitting at his desk. You could see the lines of thinking wrinkling his forehead as he tried to figure out the problem in front of him. You peeked over his shoulder to see that he was working on, chemistry. Jimin massaged the bridge of his nose and tapped his pencil against his temple. You noticed that he was studying constant acids and bases. 

"Do you need help?" You offered, Jimin looked up from his worksheet. 

"Didn't you drop out of high school or something?" You frowned at his answer. You were perfectly capable at high school academics like any other student. 

"To find the concentration of OH in a weak base you must create the conjugate acid so you have one less hydrogen in water. If you have one oxygen and one hydrogen, you'll get the OH." You said, drawing out the conjugates on his paper. Jimin looked at you amazed. 

"Wait you knew all that?"

"If I didn't why would I offer pointless help." You said dryly and turned to leave his room. 

"Dinner is ready, come down after you made your ICE chart and found Kb." You sat in the kitchen eating your own dinner, when you saw Jimin shyly peek in. He was holding his chemistry work sheet, calculator, and pencils in his hands. 

“Can you help me out while we eat?” He asked. He was a bit ashamed that he assumed your level of intelligence when clearly knew what you were talking about.

“What from me? A high school drop out?” You fake gasped. Jimin pulled up his seat at his place setting. 

‘I’m sorry for what I said, I really am ashamed I looked down upon you. I didn’t know.” 

“Just because you don’t know, doesn’t mean you can fill it in with your own truth.” You answered eating another spoonful of rice. 

“Please, I am begging here, chem is really kicking my ass.” 

“Fine.” You huffed, “eat, then we’ll work. You can’t think when you aren’t full.” Jimin nodded like a puppy and picked up his utensils. Jimin ate quite a bit in general, but he never ate as often in a day like today. You figured he was always hungry today, because he was sick. Jimin put half of the rice that was in his bowl into the soup. 

“You made red bean rice?” He said, looking up. 

“The nutrients in the red beans will help you.” You answered, picking up Jimin’s problems to see what he was working on. 

“Do you understand what is going on?” He asked, you nodded and flipped the paper. 

“I’m already done with everything I need in chemistry to be honest. I’m doing advanced biology now. I think we use the same program for schooling.” You said, recognizing the problems as arithmetic you did a while ago. 

“Wait really?”

“Not the high school drop out you thought I was huh?” 

“I said I was sorry.” Jimin said, going back to eating.

“How is it?” You asked, changing the ubject.

“It’s really good, I think the spiciness is perfect for me.” Jimin admitted, eating a spoonful of hearty vegetables. When Jimin was done you picked up his dishes and took them to sink to wash. You rinsed each dish and proceeded to soak them in water. You were about to sit back down in your seat, but you heard a group of students coming. They must have been coming back from dinner, and were going back to their rooms. You quickly ran and hid behind the island counter that was in the kitchen. Jimin noticed you hiding and realized why you were doing what you were doing so he acted like he was paying attention to his chem homework so no one would suspect a thing. When the coast was clear Jimin leaned over the counter see your huddled body.

“You can come out now, no one is here.” 

“AAHH, you scared me!” You screamed, looking up to meet Jimin’s eyes. You noticed how close you and Jimin were, you two could touch noses. You pressed your palm against his face and pushed him up and away. 

“What was that for?!”

“You were too close,” you said sitting back at you seat, “let’s just get back to chemistry.” 

Jimin took his seat next to you and worked with him for hours, sometimes having to re-explain the concept in different ways so he could understand it more clearly. You were patient with him, and to his surprise you didn’t yell at him one bit. it was nine-thirty at night and Jimin managed to get a grip on what he was finally doing. He went off the finish his problems on his own, with you watching carefully, or so he thought. He could hear small snores coming from your direction, and was met with your covered eyes. You had a moment of silence, and finally dozed off. He was about to shake you awake but Hoseok was passing through coming from a late night practice. 

“Wait, don’t wake her up.’ Hoseok ran over to stop Jimin. “She’s been awake since two in the morning. I think she’ll bite your head off if you woke her.” Hoseok chuckled. 

“She’s been here since two?” Hoseok nodded. 

“Yeah, she’s been here since you passed out, I asked her come. She actually didn’t have to come, she came here on her free will.” Jimin looked down to the ground feeling more guilt. You’ve done so much for him already, stepping out of your everyday life to help him, and never ask for anything. You don’t even tell him that it distracts you from your own world full of duties, you let him think that it was a requirement or job of yours. 

“I’m not too sure what you think of her, but she really is a good person.” Hoseok added. “Anyways, I’m going to bed, goodnight.” He said and disappeared. 

Jimin glanced back you, and thought that the table was uncomfortable, so he walked over and picked you up. Surprisingly you weren’t too heavy for his weak body. He carried you up to his room, hugging you close to his body so your limbs wouldn’t hit anything while he was walking. Taehyung and Seokjin were already in the room, when Jimin walked in with you. 

“Well at least she’s not the one doing the carrying.” Seokjin said snickering, Taehyung laughed also, knowing that  Seokjin was referring back to the morning when you were carrying Jimin around. Jimin shot the two of them a confused look. 

“Oh you don’t know?”

“(y/n) was carrying you this morning just like a princess.” Seokjin finished. 

“She’s crazy strong, she even threatened us if we tried telling someone else.” Taehyung said. Jimin’s lips formed and ‘o’ shape. Jimin sat on his desk and worked throughout the night trying to finish up homework, but he eventually fell asleep, he didn’t know he fell asleep or when he did. When you woke up you looked at your phone and realized it was eleven. You only had one more hour until the subway closed and there goes your ride home. You got and noticed that all three boys were asleep and quietly left the room. Jimin woke up when his head slipped out of his hand and hit his head on his hard desk. Jimin rubbed his forehead and looked over his shoulder to his empty bed....

Wait...empty bed? Jimin ran out of his room and into the kitchen and noticed all of your bags were gone. He ran through the school looking for you, he finally ran out of the school and saw you walking towards the front gates. He ran up to you and spun you around to face. 

“What are you doing?! You can’t just wonder around at night.” He hissed.

“What are you talking about? I’m just going home.” 

“But you shouldn’t be, not at this time.”

“I don’t belong here Jimin.” Your last sentence rang through his ears. What did you mean that you don’t belong here, he forgot you weren’t a dancer, and you haven’t been attending this school for years like he did. 

“You have to stay here, you might get hurt out there.” Jimin was met with a combination of your sarcastic eye roll and scoff. 

“I don’t know what you are thinking Jimin, but we aren’t friends,” There was a pang in his chest, “we never were.” And there it was again. “We aren’t close at all, I only came here because Hoseok begged me. What happened today doesn’t matter. None of this means anything, it all means nothing to me.”

#bts scenarios #bts #bts jimin #bts fanfic #bts x reader #park jimin #park jimin scenarios #park jimin fanfic #park jimin fluff #kim seokjin #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #min yoongi #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios #kpop

[kittenwritesstuff]

Fix the broken

Gif’s not mine!

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x (Auror)reader Genres: angst, platonic fluff Words: 1.971 Summary: Reader shows up at Malfoys’ mansion after not having heard from Lucius for a while. She’s there just in time to prevent him from harming himself and stays to take care of him during his mourning - requested by @directorpercivalgraves 

You hear a quiet scratching on the window; you turn your head from a soup you are stirring and see your owl. With an envelope you gave her still in her beak.

Frowning, with confusion and concern running through your body, you open the window and let your owl in, taking the letter from her. Your pet leans into your hand and so you stroke her head, smiling.

“No one let you in, darling?” you coo and your owl screeches, expressing her complaint. You scratch her a little and she squeals, making you let out a small laugh.

“I’ll go there. I’m worried, you see. I don’t think they left England. He would’ve told me, I suppose.”

You fall silent after that, focusing on your meal. Your owl warbles and then flies away to her favorite spot, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Lucius was surely in the Manor. You would’ve known if they left the country or moved to a different place. You work in the Ministry, nothing happens without It knowing, even despite the hard times you are in.

Actually, that was how you met Malfoys. Over ten years ago, the Ministry received an information about numerous magical items that were illegally spread around. The Minister ordered that Aurors would be paired with workers of Department of  Magical Equipment Control and sent in the field to investigate whether said families were in a possession of any kind of unregistered magical items.

You were sent to Malfoys’ Manor to search for them. Lucius was utterly displeased by being suspected of such a thing but Narcissa patiently showed you around the huge house, while little Draco watched you curiously as you waved your wand around for magical objects to show.

You had found nothing illegal and so you thanked for their cooperation. Lucius was still resentful by being visited by a Ministry’s hounds, as he called you, and the next day you saw him in Ministry, waiting for a meeting with the Minister himself.

Few chance meetings later, he invited you for a dinner in their mansion, saying that Narcissa would like to get to know you, curious about your work and you, in overall.

You went there and that was how it started – despite differences in your beliefs and social status, you managed to form a friendship, based on respect and, surprisingly, similar interests with Narcissa.

Your heart almost broke when you found out that Narcissa died in the Battle, believed to be punished for her son’s and husband’s disobedience. You can’t even begin to imagine how hurt Lucius and Draco are. The Malfoys appeared to be cold and emotionless but you saw that there was love between them, even if they weren’t able to express it.

And it seems that Lucius was in a dire need of a friend. You haven’t seen him since the Battle, you haven’t even spotted him or Draco in Hogwarts when you were sent to help with restoring the castle. They must’ve fled during or just after the Battle ended.

You couldn’t bring yourself to visit Lucius, justifying yourself with work and personal stuff, but the truth is, you are scared of what you may find there. You’re afraid that you won’t be able to help him, to comfort him. That you’ll fail as a friend.

On the other hand, however, not offering him your support is failing as well.

With a sigh, you turn the stove off and pour the soup you’ve just finished cooking into an easier to carry pot. You fish out your wand and wave it, apparating in front of the door to the Manor.

You knock loudly, but there’s no sound from the other side. Only silence, heavy and terrifying. After knocking few more times, you decide to let yourself in. You push the door open, sliding in and looking around for any sign of presence.

There’s a dim light coming from the living room – you head there, careful not to drop the pot you’re carrying. You assume there’s not more than two or three candles lit there, hence the almost non-existent light in otherwise shadowy rooms and corridors.

“Lucius?!” you call as you enter the room and you find him nowhere to be seen. He must be somewhere here, why would the candles be lit?

“It’s me, Y/N.” you try again, hoping that when he hears familiar voice he’ll come out from whatever spot he’s occupying right now. Placing the pot on the large wooden table, you mutter a spell and all the light in the room light up, pushing away the darkness from it.

And that’s when you spot him, and it makes your heart sink to your stomach.

Lucius is curled in a far corner of the room, agony written on his face as he presses his wand to his temple. His eyes are squeezed shut, his face paler than usual and only now you notice that he’s been crying.

Jumping into action, you wave your wand, performing an Expelliarmus spell and Lucius’s wand flies into the air and right into your hand.

“Why..?!” he whines miserably, covering his face with trembling hands and you hide both wands into a pocket of your coat before you rush to him. “Why did you stop me? I wanted to do this, I wanted to…”

“Lucius, believe me, you didn’t. This is not a way, can you hear me?” you mutter as you wrap your arms around his shaking form, holding him firmly as he sobs.

“I’m here now, I’ll help you. Forgive me for not coming sooner, but now I’m here for you.”

“You can’t help me… Y/N, it hurts, it hurts so much” he mumbles between the sobs and you almost tear up yourself, but you know you can’t. You need to be strong – Lucius needs it.

“I know and I cannot take away the pain. But it will go away, I promise. Not entirely, but it will hurt less with every passing day.”

“How can you know that?” he asks, lifting his agony-filled eyes at you and you smile sadly.

“I buried both my parents, remember? I know what I’m saying. Now, how about we get you all cleaned up? I’ll draw you a bath, alright?”

Lucius doesn’t say a word, only nods and lets you set him on his feet and lead him to one of guest rooms. You assume he doesn’t want to be in the bedroom he shared with Narcissa.

You motion his to sit on the bed while you start the water and watch it fill the bathtub. You add some bubble bath and once you’re pleased with it, you go back to bedroom to find Lucius sitting just as you left him.

“It’s my fault…” he whispers as you approach him and reach to the front of his black button up. He stares blindly at the wall before him, not really seeing you.

“It is not your fault,” you state softly as you push the shirt from his shoulders, gripping his forearms to pull him to a standing position.

“It is, Y/N. I’ve failed. I’ve failed my wife and now, because of my weakness, she is dead.”

“And you think killing yourself will make it better? Do you think Narcissa would want it? You cannot give up, Lucius, you have a son to take care of,” you say, unbuckling the belt and unzipping his trousers. Lucius stops you before you can take them off and does it himself.

“Draco is angry at me. He blames me for what happened.”

“Did he say such a thing?”

“No,” Lucius replies and you give him a reassuring smile.

“See? Draco needs you, he needs his father. You have somebody to live for, Lucius, you cannot leave him.”

He says nothing when you take him to the bathroom and turn around to give him at least a bit of privacy as he strips himself off the last piece of clothing. You hear the water splash as he slides in so you come to the bathtub and take a sponge, crouching by the tub.

Lucius is silent as you wash him, not even uttering a sound. Any bit of shame is long forgotten, neither of you thinks of it – you are here to support him and Lucius realizes it. He doesn’t complain when you tilt him head back to wash his hair, silently allowing you to take care of him.

And you can only hope that it’ll be enough.

When you’re done, you stand up and offer him a towel, walking out of the bathroom to grant him privacy. You busy yourself with preparing a clean outfit and leave it on the bed, waiting outside the guest room for Lucius.

He exits it few minutes later.

“I brought a soup. Do you want to eat?”

“Yes, please,” he mutters and you take his hand, leading him down the stairs, to the living room. From the kitchen, you bring two bowls and spoons, magically warming up the meal and pouring it to bowls.

Lucius sits still by the table, looking at steaming fluid with indifference.

“I- I can’t-“

“Let me,” you offer and take the spoon, feeding him with the soup. At first, he looks ashamed but as you carry on, he eats with more appetite. You take it as a good sing.

When you’re finished, you clean the dishes and come back to the living room, finding Lucius sitting on a sofa by the cold fireplace. You wave your wand and the logs blaze with fire, illuminating the room with an orange glow.

Carefully, you walk to Lucius and he wipes at his cheeks quickly, lowering his head.

“Lucius,” you start gently, sitting next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Allow yourself to grief. There’s nothing to be ashamed about in suffering and mourning. It’s natural and no one will judge you for that.”

“Stay, please,” he asks, his voice broken and pleading and you nod, pulling him into you embrace when he gives in and starts crying. You hold him through it, rubbing his back and stroking your fingers through his long hair, giving as much comfort as you can.

He does not resemble the proud man, with his head high and a grimace of displeasure on his face, when he clings to you as if his life depends on it. He’s no longer a determined wizard, looking down at everybody when he stops sobbing, exhausted and broken.

Surely, no one would recognize the arrogant, haughty Lucius Malfoy in a man that is now grasping on your legs and laying practically at your feet, in a silent beg of you to not leave him. He’s fast asleep now, his deep steady breaths lulling you to sleep as well and so you close your eyes and allow yourself to rest.

_____

Draco tries to not make a sound when he opens the front door and steps into the house. He’s surprised, almost shocked when he hears a crackling of the fire. He left in the early morning, having grown sick of the coldness and silence in the Manor.

He was reluctant at first, when Harry Potter offered his help after Draco’s mother died. Draco didn’t want it. He was sure that he was able to deal with it himself but time showed that he needed someone to see him through it. And with his father shutting himself from outside world, lost in his own grief, Draco eventually reached out to Harry.

He quietly comes closer to the living room and peaks in it. A small smile appears on his face when he sees you. He’s grateful that you’re here and suddenly he’s convinced that things will get better. You’ll help his father, you’ll bring him back to life.

Your presence alone is enough.

#lucius #lucius x reader #lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy x reader #x reader #reader insert #harry potter #hp #hpfic #directorpercivalgraves