#I was just kind of stunned that they’d ignore everything I said to come back w the same shit lmao

[melrosing]

Blocking people instead of actually countering what they have to say doesn’t suggest conviction in your own opinion

okay but consider this: I’ve been here before, and in the end it doesn’t actually matter how much conviction I have in my opinion, they have full conviction in theirs and they will just. keep. going until my entire blog is just me having to make the same points over and over only for them to come back with the same rebuttals and then I get ANONS doing the same thing and it literally doesn’t end until I say ‘I am tired of this and want to talk about something else’ and then they go COWARD!! GIVING UP ARE YOU!!!

like yes i am! and this time im doing it sooner rather than later bc it’s exhausting talking to you people and I find myself having to argue points that were already made in the original post they’re replying to that they just refuse to consider in good faith so what’s the point! it isn’t fun!

[lynx52]

Birds of a Feather

I don't know what really happened writing this.

Birds had always been something Tallulah loved; their wings reminded her of Phil, papa. His wings could be tucked under on a cold morning, or just when the day was feeling too much. Now when he hugged her, feathers brushed against her cheeks, comfortin her like little extensions of Pa trying to make sure she was okay. Crows' wings were good to sleep in, blocking out light from outside, letting her hide easier. 

However, the brighter ones' wings were stunning, little streaks of colour flying through the air, lighting up the sky. In the sanctuary, hummingbirds were everywhere, coming to her beck and call if she clasped one of the roses in her small claws. Chayanne liked them to flutter around him, spinning in joy as they attempted to land on his outstretched arms, grinning. 

Flowers were a secondary enjoyment they both shared. Poppies. Lilacs. Sunflowers. Roses now.  Even the moss that they slept beside. It all made her feel safe. The place she slept, the place pa found peace — Roses sanctuary, her father. Gifts shared between the family tended to involve flowers. And the birds liked those too.

Crows. Pa always had a crow nearby, they were kind to her and Chay. Telling little secrets to each other, sometimes teasing Phil, or calling out the same message over and over, attempting to get his attention as he tended to the children. They had loved Chayanne, him being Pa’s actual son, but they’d immediately accepted her, calling out when she was in danger, panicking and demanding for the one who’d harmed hers’ blood. That was something more concerning, but Phil said was best to ignore. They helped, so why worry if they wanted to ‘help’ by killing people. Most of the time they perched on his shoulders, or watched from window sills, cooing in delight when her or Chayanne did something they considered cute. They acted as if they were also Phils kids, enjoying the stories with them, calling out for food along with them. They might be odd, but they were part of the family, she supposed. 

Family was a confusing concept for her. It was to a lot of people on the island, with the assigned parents, the way people disappeared or had issues that kept them away for weeks. The eggs being taken away from their families hadn’t been any help to that. They’d come back, and almost immediately, they’d come to realise that some people had to leave again. With all the relationships that everyone had with each other, it was hard to know exactly what was happening, causing most adults to be dubbed Tio or Tia once trust from the egg was shown. But Tallulah had had a Dad. She’d had one parent. And he’d said he was going to be busy. But he’d taken her in. Then he’d had to leave, work keeping him away from her, and leave her with Phil, her Abuelito, Wilburs’ Dad. Instantly, he’d started caring for her, giving her gifts and items to keep her safe. She’d started considering him Pa, and had told him so. Phil softly told that he had already considered her his kid, and everything stayed, essentially, the same. 

Change was one of her greatest fears. Others changing ranged in amounts of fear, sure, but she herself was changing. When her Dad came back, would she still be the same daughter that he once loved and cared for? Would he see her how she was now and no longer want to look after her? Would he even recognize her? Really, were any of them recognizable anymore? 

Tallulah just wanted to be able to protect her family and friends. But how was she meant to know who those people were.  

[kl4us4]

EVERYTHING (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)

summary: your family don’t seem to care much about your birthday - but there’s one person willing to make it extra special for you.

masterlist / requests open

There are only two weeks left. Eddie’s been counting down the days, making sure he had everything ready for your special day. He knew what flowers he wanted to buy, jotting down a note he’d pinned beside his front door, so he’d be reminded every time he left his place for work. While Eddie smiled at the thought of your special day, you were dreading it. Your birthday was never something you’d liked to celebrate, it just reminded you of your separated family, the fact that you’d have to pretty much plan everything by yourself. Everyone's eyes on you as they sing you a song.

Oh, God.

This year was no different, you organised to spend time with your dad the day after your birthday; despite his lack of interest, complaining that he had to take time off his busy schedule to see you. You felt like a burden to him. But when Eddie greeted you, his smile wide and welcoming the night before your birthday, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“What’s that look for?” You wonder, looking him up and down as he closes the trailer door behind you.

“Nothing, baby,” he shrugs nonchalantly, sauntering over to his couch, “come here.”

You eye him suspiciously, noticing his reddish cheeks and open arms, “I always know when you’re up to something, you know?”

“You’re so perceptive and smart,” he bites his bottom lip teasingly, legs stretching out as he smiles suggestively at you, “so fucking pretty too.”

You roll your eyes, setting your bag onto the counter, “Shut up.”

“You shut up, I’m serious,” Eddie leans forward, elbows pressed against his knees as he looks at you, “too smart for me, it’s kind of annoying.”

“Right,” you plop beside him on the couch, “too smart to forget it’s my birthday tomorrow?”

“It’s your what?” He feigns ignorance, latching his arm over the couch's headrest and around your shoulders, “Hm?”

“You’re a shit liar,” you sigh, eyes scanning his cheeky expression.

He presses a hand on your thigh, squeezing, "And you look so good in your work uniform."

“Eddie, c’mon,” you raise your eyebrows, “I told you not to do anything.”

“Do anything for what?” He pouts a little, eyebrows raised, “Oh! For your birthday? When is that again?”

“Eddie,” you warn quietly, peering at him with a pleading gaze, “I don't... I don't want you to go to all this trouble and- and-”

"Hey, hey, hey," he stretches his arms out towards you, pressing his lips against your forehead, “Not doing anything you don’t deserve, sweetheart.”

A chill settles in you. “Just tell me, I… I gotta see what���s going on, you know, with my family.”

Eddie just hums, a smile on his face, “Don’t worry, they’re invited, okay?”

You pull back, “What? Really?”

He smiles sweetly, “Yeah, I called them on Monday. Introduced myself, the whole nine yards, baby.”

You look up at him, eyes filled with concern and shock, “They’re coming?”

“As far as I know, they're excited to come,” his smile fades a little, noticing your stunned expression, “why, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” You shake your head, biting your lip anxiously, “I’m just- I don’t know, surprised they’re gonna come.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I don’t…” you shrug awkwardly, letting out a laugh, “We don’t really celebrate much- uh, together. You know, they’re really busy so it's tough to find the time."

“Why?” He wonders, eyebrows furrowing, “You share a birthday with someone else or?”

“No,” you shake your head, swallowing the dryness in your throat, “just- I don’t know. We don’t really, like, celebrate much together. Like, for anything.”

Eddie wonders, eyes slightly wide with concern, “Should I, like, un-invite them?”

“No!” You exclaim, pausing for a moment, “They said they’d come, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods brightly, “your dad, and two sisters.”

“Where?” You wonder, adding quickly, “I mean, n-not to, like, ruin the surprise but-”

“Here,” Eddie answers sweetly, “Wayne took time off work, wants to do a whole barbecue and everything.”

“Really?” You raise your eyebrows, suddenly feeling bad, “Oh, he… he didn’t need to take time off work.”

Eddie gives you a strange look and you bite your lip, anxious that you’ve offended him somehow. You’re about to apologise and thank him but he speaks up instead, “Yeah, he always takes time off work for things like this,” Eddie admits kindly, his voice softening to a quiet questioning, “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you usually do for your birthday?”

You frown at him, holding back a laugh, “Usually just spend it at home, you know? We have dinner together like any other night but I usually subject them to some horrible film they’ll probably complain about.”

Eddie nods kindly, seeing your sweet, innocent smile. Eddie searches for the answers, “That’s sweet. I, you know, I hope we aren’t ruining that - it’s just I really wanted to make it special. Wayne too. He loves having people around- I, uh, I really hope that’s okay. I probably should’ve asked beforehand-”

“No, no!” You shake your head, pressing a hand to his cheek, “I’m so excited, really! Plus, you wanted it to be a surprise,” you shrug honestly, smiling, “I didn’t really expect anything. Usually, we’d just, you know, get a cake or something from the store and sing happy birthday.”

“Really?” He wonders fondly.

“Yeah,” you smile honestly, “Dad works a lot and my sisters are so busy, you know college and high school, but it’s good to hear they’re coming!”

Eddie gives you a nod, lips pressing together tightly. Even his Uncle, who worked all night to keep him and his nephew afloat, would take time off to celebrate Eddie’s birthday, or graduation, or anything. He still remembers Wayne taking four days off when Eddie and you graduated, whereas your dad couldn't take a Tuesday off to attend the ceremony. At least your younger sister could come.

“Wanna know what else?” He presses a hand to your cheek, rubbing gently, “Your dad said he's excited to meet me.”

You let out a sweet laugh, closing your eyes at his warm touch, “I’m excited too! I, um, I- thanks for this. I’ve never had someone else, sort of, I don’t know, organise my birthday for me. It’s kind of weird!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I usually, like, rent the movie and get the cake and all that; it’s a nice change,” you laugh wholeheartedly, giving him a wide grin, “really, thank you.”

Eddie gives you a fond smile, leaning towards your forehead and pressing a kiss to your warm skin, “Of course, baby; anything for you.”

The day of your birthday came; a quiet Friday afternoon. It’s nearly seven and Wayne finished cooking around an hour ago. You sit beside Eddie, plastic plate in your hand, along with an uneaten hotdog. You stare at the driveway, waiting for your family to show up. Steve and Robin gossip as they eat their food, arguing about the best dressings to put on their hotdogs. Eddie notices that you’ve been staring at the dirt road for half an hour, your food only half-eaten.

“I’m sure they’re just late,” Eddie suggests, pressing a hand to your back, “try and eat, baby.”

“Yeah, of course,” you bite the corner of your cheek, turning to give him a smile, “should I- do I call them?” You still can’t stomach the thought of eating, plagued by the anticipation of your family showing up.

“How about we wait another few minutes, maybe they got caught up,” Eddie suggests, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach as he looks back at his Uncle, who’s putting more sausages and burgers on the grill, “eat your food, birthday girl. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” you press a smile to your face, watching as Eddie rises to his feet.

“Rad Birthday,” Robin exclaims, sitting beside you with a wide smile, “I’m honoured to even be invited.”

You let out a laugh, setting your food beside you on the bench, “After all those freebies at Scoops, why wouldn’t you be?”

Steve lets out a scoff, “I thought we’d be invited ‘cause we all survived that Russian elevator together.”

You think it over, holding back a smile, “Yeah, you’re right, Harrington.”

"Either way," Steve smiles kindly, "it's good to be here, you know - feels normal, for once."

Robin lets out a small laugh, "Alright, don't go all sappy on us now. Please."

Steve rolls his eyes, turning towards the food table for another hotdog.

Eddie watches as you laugh with your friends, turning back to his Uncle. He is stood over the barbecue, placing the last round of hotdogs onto the tray. Eddie lets out a breath, “Hey, how’s it going here?”

“Good, kiddo,” Wayne smiles kindly, “about to get the rest of the meat from the freezer, you wanna give me a hand?"

“I, uh,” Eddie bites his bottom lip, leaning against the barbecue to be out of earshot, “look, I don’t think her family's showing up.”

Wayne turns, giving Eddie a frown, “No?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Eddie admits sadly, “I’m so sorry, I-I wanted to hold off until I knew but it’s-”

“No, no,” Wayne throws a teatowel over his shoulder, shaking his head, “that’s alright, son. Uh- does she... She okay?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie admits, glancing back at you. You’re joking and talking with Steve and Robin, but your shoulders are tense and your hotdog's uneaten, still. “I think she’s alright. Maybe we should, I don’t know..."

“Cake time?” Wayne suggests sweetly, raising his eyebrows at his nephew, “I got a present back inside for her too. Might cheer her up?”

Eddie lets out a small laugh, “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” Uncle Wayne shrugs, leaning towards Eddie, “but it’s her birthday, for God's sake.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie lets out a long sigh, seeing your discarded plate beside you on the table, “I’m sorry.”

“For what, boy?” Wayne frowns at Eddie, ready to dispel whatever sorrow he has.

“You spent all that money on food, I’ll pay you back-”

“You’re spewing nonsense right now, don't be absurd," Wayne gives Eddie a glare, to which his nephew just laughs gently. He presses his hand against Eddie’s shoulder, “She’s special to you, kiddo. And it’s meant to be her day; I don’t care about spending money on family, alright?”

Eddie smiles up at his Uncle, giving him a silent nod just in case he says anything to make the tears spill past his eyes. Wayne notices and just gives his nephew a strong pat on the back, imbuing him with the courage to walk back up to you. You know your family isn’t showing up. Wayne’s turned off the barbecue - you noticed.

You go to rise to your feet, reading to help him but Eddie presses a hand to yours. “Cake time, baby?” He smiles sweetly.

Your face only falls for a second, but you grasp his hand, rising to your feet. Standing beside him, you look towards his Uncle, “Does he need any help?”

Eddie lets out a quiet chuckle, “No, he’s alright. Tried to smack me with a teatowel when I offered to help him. Think he’s craving cake though, he's kinda got a sweet tooth.

You give Eddie a look, smile pressed against your cheeks, “My dad?” A look crosses Eddie’s face and you smile widely before he can answer, “That’s alright! Uh, it’s cake time then?”

Before Eddie can say anything, you’re announcing it to Steve and Robin who give you a gracious smile. It’s not lost on your that none of your family is present on your birthday. They’re not ones for celebration anyway.

Inside Eddie’s trailer, he rips open his fridge door, both hands carefully lifting the cake from within. You close your eyes, letting out a quiet laugh as he smiles widely, “Did you make this?”

"N-I-" Eddie laughs nervously, “Robin helped-”

“I pretty much baked the whole thing,” Robin exclaims, “he and Steve decorated!”

Steve raises his hands, “We did our best, alright?”

“I love it,” you grin, watching as Eddie lights a few candles on your cake, “really, thank you.”

“No time for thank you!” Robin exclaims before beginning a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’.

You smile anxiously, eyes closing at the sudden attention. But when Eddie presses his hand to your back, you look up at his wide smile. He sings along quietly for a moment before he presses his lips against your temple. It brings you comfort, making you close your eyes in bliss. You hear the snap of a camera and you look up. Uncle Wayne had taken a Polaroid, smiling to himself as he waits for it to develop. Eddie smiles and presses his lips against your ear as the song ends, “Happy Birthday, pretty baby. Love you.”

You squeeze his hand, "Love you."

Looking around at the smiling faces, all waiting for you to blow your candles out, you smile. Leaning forward, you suck in a breath before making a secret wish. Everyone claps and you stand up straight, clinging onto Eddie’s hand. His other hand rubs up and down your arm, letting out a laugh as Wayne grips the knife and decides how to cut the large cake.

You turn to Eddie, giving him a genuine smile, “Thank you.”

Eddie just shrugs, “Happy Birthday.”

“No, really,” you mumble quietly, rubbing the back of his hand tenderly, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

Eddie lets out a hum as he stands behind you, both arms wrapping around your waist. Pressing his lips to your ear, Eddie smiles happily, “You're everything to me - just wanted to show you."

[from-the-clouds]

Kiss Me More (Part II) - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist || Part One

Summary: Part two, read part one if you haven’t already! Sam & Bucky put reader in charge of looking after Zemo....again. Series loosely inspired by this song.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Kissing, heavy petting, mentions of sex, minor TFATWS spoilers.

A/N: Wow! I was so shocked on the feedback I got on the first part of this story. It has nearly 800 notes. I’m not used to my writing getting that kind of attention so I really appreciate the love. I decided to make this into at least a 3-4 part series and there will be eventual smut, but I feel like there’s something sweet between these two that goes beyond an obvious physical attraction, so I do want to build that a bit before we get there. This weekend I rewatched TFATWS & Civil War because I’m officially obsessed with Zemo lol. Please let me know what you think, and let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist. :) 

-----

“Keep an eye on him.”

Y/N watched Bucky and Sam split off again. That was now at least the third time she’d heard that phrase since she arrived in Riga. Little did they know, she was probably the worst person to be put in charge of Zemo. Truthfully, it was starting to be a little insulting.

It was unclear why she’d been brought along on this mission, when half the time Sam and Bucky were talking in hushed tones just out of her earshot. There was always more to the story than they told her, but this time, it felt like she was more out of the loop than ever.

She adjusted the neckline of the sweater she wore out of an abundance of caution, checking subconsciously to make sure it hadn’t exposed the mark Zemo had left on her from the day before. It was a discovery she’d made that morning, and persisted despite her efforts to cover it up with makeup.

“According to those two, I must be the best at babysitting you,” she muttered under her breath. It was petty, so she wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to hear. But he did.

“Babysitting?” Zemo lifted an eyebrow. 

“You know, a nanny, a governess….whatever a Baron’s equivalent is,” she said, looking him in the eye for the first time that day, which was a mistake. He looked so handsome in that long, fur-lined coat, tall and refined, hair styled perfectly. There had to be warrants out for his arrest since escaping prison, and in his current getup, he was hard to miss. 

It wasn’t easy to ignore the stifling tension between them. The Baron hadn’t left her thoughts since she’d closed the door on him the evening before. Now they were alone again. She couldn’t decide if that was thrilling or terrifying, so she decided on both.

“It’s nice of them to give us some alone time,” Zemo stepped close to her, one gloved hand pressing between her shoulder blades. Despite the cool temperature outside, it was the first thing today that had her shivering. 

“Walk with me,” he commanded sternly. She saw no opportunity to refuse as they started in the direction opposite of where Bucky and Sam had disappeared. 

“Zemo-”

“Helmut,” he corrected her. “But go on…”

“We have to focus on figuring out where Donya’s funeral will be,” she said, feeling his hand slide down to settle on the small of her back, trying to inch away, but he just pulled her closer. “We can’t waste time.”

“I know Riga inside and out, that won’t be as difficult as you and your friends think,” he murmured. His proximity was already suffocating. Or maybe comforting. It was hard to tell. “Tell me, what is your business with them? You aren’t an Avenger. This was my first time hearing your name.”

She snorted, finally finding the strength to pull away, and he dropped his hand. That was one thing that had confounded her. He was confident, took liberties with what others would allow, but knew when to stop pushing. There was something alluring to his nature. 

“I’m not,” she responded, wondering how much she was willing to share. When she stole a glance out of the corner of her eyes, his head was lowered, leaning in, listening intently for her response. She wondered if he really cared, or if he was good at pretending. It was easy to believe that he did.

“Bucky and I aren’t that different,” she continued. “That’s why we’re friends. I’m not a super soldier, but I was taught how to fight, how to kill. I followed orders for too long without questioning whether or not I was doing the right thing. And at least now, I think I am.”

“You think,” he repeated, and corrected her again like he had the day before. As much as she wanted some kind of clever or quick quip back, she wore her heart on her sleeve for the moment and shrugged. There was nothing to defend when she still wasn’t sure what responsibilities she had in this world. 

Zemo halted, and she paused too, turning back to look at him. “So you were an assassin,” he murmured, reaching out. Nodding slightly, she lowered her eyes when his gloved thumb brushed across her face. The buttery, overpowering smell of leather took her over as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I would’ve never guessed. Du bist so süß.”

Her knowledge of German was limited, but she could see a flash of what looked like affection in his eyes. He couldn’t be lying, could he? She wondered. She wanted to trust that he wasn’t, wanted to identify every good part of him she could, so she could justify the overwhelming attraction she felt towards him. Something in her just kept pulling forward against her will, like a magnet.

“You’d be surprised,” she answered, but didn’t pull away. The intensity of his gaze made her feel weak, but there was something strangely reassuring in his eyes. It was just the two of them, standing on a crowded sidewalk.

She rose her hand to clasp around his, frowning when she felt the hard loop of a ring on one of his gloved fingers. It had gone unnoticed by her, until now. He still wore a wedding band. 

It would have been easy to vocalize the observation, gauge his reaction, try to regain some upper hand and remind him who exactly he was dealing with. But, it would’ve been pointlessly cruel, as she knew what that felt like to answer that question. Those days were behind her, now. 

As if the universe was scolding her, a loud car horn broke through the perceived silence. His hand dropped from her face, and they began to walk again. 

“I had lots of time to think in prison,” he said after a heady pause in conversation. “About the things I’d done. Whatever intentions you have, to someone, you’re always the enemy. What I thought was important, trying to serve the greater good, it isn’t always worth the trouble. I was trying to protect what I had already lost, the places and people I’d taken for granted.”

Deciphering his words, she took a moment before responding. “That’s actually...very insightful,” she said, partly surprised by what he’d shared, appreciating that he felt her vulnerability, and matched it in his response.

“I know you’re stunned I’m not a brute,” he answered, increasing his pace to a determined strut rather than a lazy stroll. She was forced to keep up with him. “You’ve been told what to think about me by Sam and Bucky.”

She scoffed. “Not just them. The entire world. All the people you’ve hur-”

He halted and turned to face her so quickly, she collided with his chest and her breath caught in her throat. 

“I’m not that man anymore,” his voice was nearly a growl, disgust laced in his features as he looked down at her. 

But as soon as she recognized it, he became expressionless again, backing away. Falling back into step beside him, they continued to walk, a bit faster than they had been before. She followed him, at this point convinced that she might get lost without his guidance, but a little startled by his sudden change in behavior.

“What do you think of Riga?” he asked her as they cut through an alleyway. His voice held none of the venom that it had a few moments ago, so she wondered if she’d just hit a sore nerve.

“It’s beautiful,” she answered, admiring the old brick buildings and fine architecture. “But I think I haven’t had much of a chance to appreciate it.”

“Have you been thinking about me?”

They ducked under an alcove, and she realized he’d carefully led her off the crowded streets. It was much quieter here. She suddenly didn’t feel as protected as she had been with him in the open. The temperature in the shaded space was much lower than expected. And he was standing over her, waiting for some response she didn’t know if she could give. 

“I haven’t forgotten about last night, liebling,” he continued. 

Of course she had been thinking of him. Nearly nonstop. What they’d shared, what it meant. She hadn’t been able to sleep until she relieved herself, fingers rubbing her clit and delving into her warmth, whimpering his name when she finally came. Still, it had done little to quell the ache inside her. 

It was a horrible thing, she’d decided. Objectively horrible, and unprofessional. There was the consideration of accessibility. What did he see in her beyond a means to an end? Was she really going to throw everything she’d worked for away to a man who was going to use her to scratch an itch?

Too much was at stake, Sam and Bucky’s trust, her reputation, her job, and she couldn’t allow it to go on. 

But oh, how much she wanted it to. 

“Yesterday was nice,” she straightened up, holding her own. “I won’t lie to you.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly in a self-satisfied smirk. 

“But I’m not foolish,” she continued. “Coming on to the first woman you see after you get out of jail? Seems pretty convenient.”

At first, the Baron tilted his head to the side, his brows pulled together at her words. But after a moment, the smile returned, and he chuckled. “Is that what you think this is about?”

“Don’t insult me, Helmut,” she said sternly, trying her best not to feel embarrassed. She was only being honest.

“Are you always so severe to yourself?” he asked, tutting lightly. 

It would have been better to say nothing. Why give him anything at all? 

She didn’t answer his question, just backed away from him and began walking in no particular direction, wanting only to increase the space between them and regain her common sense. That was impossible however, as she was jolted backwards before she even knew what was happening, a firm hand on her upper arm, and she was chest to chest with Zemo once more. 

“We were in Madripoor together. I could’ve had my way with many women there if I wanted. But I didn’t.”

“Please-” she rolled her eyes.

“If all I wanted to do was fuck someone, I could have done it by now,” he stalked forward, the air pressure around them dropping, weighed by the tension hanging thick between them. “But that’s not what I want. I want you.”

His words, spoken in a soft, low purr rattled away every bit of resolve she had left in her. Some last ditch effort found her stepping backwards, but her body met the brick wall behind them and she realized he had her cornered. 

In more ways than one, she thought.

Taking in a shaky breath, she looked up at his eyes, clouded with lust. “I know you want me,” he said, not a shred of doubt in his voice. But why should there have been? He was right. 

Her eyes darted around, like someone or something around them was going to jump out and save her from herself. It didn’t go unnoticed. “There’s no need to be scared, liebling. I feel it, too.”

With that, he closed the gap between their lips. He tasted sweet, like the candies he’d been eating back at his flat. Turkish delight. She was drowning in him again, his scent, his touch, everything about him enveloped and beguiled her. Her shirt had bunched up slightly somewhere along their walk and his gloved hands explored the exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

She surrendered, letting him tease open her mouth and claim her wholly. It was still bad, she knew. But there wasn’t any last bit of self-control left in her. 

The layers of clothing between them didn’t allow for the same proximity she’d had to him the evening before. Groaning in delight and frustration, she reached up to tangle and rake her fingers through his hair, as his fingers curled around the top of her sweater, revealing the sensitive skin of her neck. 

“Don’t hide this,” his lips left hers as his eyes focused on the stamp of affection he’d left behind the day before. “Let them see.”

“You know I can’t,” she responded, sheepishly pulling it back into place. Studying her with amiable consideration, his hand rose to brush tenderly across her cheekbone. 

“I thought you’d come to me last night,” she confessed, drawing away slightly, shocked by her own admission. But right now, she didn’t feel the need to put up as much of a facade. He looked positively virile; panting, his cheeks flushed and hair mussed, pupils blown out as he focused on her. To know she was the cause of his current state of disarray gave her an immense amount of satisfaction. A buried, salacious part of her wondered what else she could do to make him look even more unkempt.

“I considered it,” he said, sounding almost timid. “But I want to do this right.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss beneath her ear. “In private, so no one can disturb us,” he continued, lips moving down her neck. “We can take our time, you can be as loud as you’d like.”

The mental image he was currently painting for her was doing very little to strengthen her convictions, whatever those had been. The thought of her legs wrapped around his torso, naked bodies pressed together sent a bolt of electricity through the pit of her stomach, radiating outwards. She wanted his lips on every inch of her skin. Aching at the possibility, the present tease of his teeth nibbling on her collarbone wasn’t helping.

“You know we can’t,” she didn’t try to stop the thought as it came out of her mouth.

“What is there to lose?”

Everything, she thought, but didn’t answer. She couldn’t really, as his gloved hand was trailing slowly under her jacket and sweater, against her bare skin, and cupping her breast through her bra. Whimpering, she couldn’t control the way her body arched against his.

Hooking her knee on his hip, she let him press forward, feeling the warmth of his excitement through his trousers and her jeans. He ground against her once, teasingly, and she moaned softly into his mouth. 

He was the one to pull away, and she was thankful he did. “Think about it, liebling,” he said softly, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. “Du hast die Kontrolle.”

“We can’t,” she answered again, but even she didn’t believe herself. Raking her hands through her hair and adjusting her rumpled sweater, she straightened up. “We have a job to do.”

Brushing past him out of the alcove, each step she took away from him gave her the self control she desperately needed. She glanced over her shoulder to see him reluctantly trudging behind. At this point, she wasn’t foolish. There were only two ways this could end.

----

Part III

Series Taglist: @juice-1981  @sapphiredreamer26  @tatooineisdry  @marvelsvision @spookycereal-s @trelaney @fireghost-x @booksarekindaneat  @thunderingbats  @felicityofbakerstreet @takacsgram @mischiefmanaged71 @fanfictionedagain @merelyhooper @gyllord @mundaytuesday @friday18eo  @lovegood7553  @adara-wolfhart @a-djarin @farawaywasteland @sky-writes-stuff @fuckinglittlekitten @katyasrussianaccent @agent-jbarnes  @neoarchipelago @pattispunk @kpopnena @purebloodwitch @spookyconsultingcriminal @msmarvelwrites @professorrw @lazyradeecal @captainrexstan @notyourfuckingbusinesss

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged, or if I forgot to tag you for some reason! :)

[dameronology]

you have my number {bucky barnes x reader}

summary: bucky barnes' memory is a little selective, thanks to all the brainwashing - but one thing he'll never forget is his love for you, even if you're a complete & utter pain in the ass. his ass. (based on deja vu by olivia rodigro)

^even tho this fic refers to bucky as having a new gf, the reader is still g.n :)

this is spoiler free! enjoyyy

- jazz xx

Your relationship with Bucky Barnes had been nothing short of a train wreck.

And frankly, that was putting it nicely.

It had been a short & passionate affair; intense and sweet and filled with so much emotion in such high concentrations that you'd both almost drowned in it. For every euphoric moment, there had been one so low that you'd scraped your knees on the ground. Climbing a ladder to heaven whilst simultaneously digging your own graves had taken its toll on you both, and eventually, you had no choice but to go your separate ways. It had been for your own sanity, really.

So there he was, tucked away in a neat little box in your brain, labelled don't touch, ever. Even when you were completely wasted, surrounded by your friends and their respective lovers, you never dared to venture back down that particular memory lane. Forgetting all the bad parts and selectively remembering the good parts was easy enough to do, but you had the common sense to remember why you'd broken up in the first place. Because Bucky Barnes, despite being easy on the eyes and having a charming sense of humour, was a pain in your fucking ass. He managed to press every one of your buttons without even trying and his ability to bring out the best in you was completely and entirely wiped out by his tendency to bring out the worst. That wasn't even getting started on his emotional hold-ups; a can of worms neither of you had dared to open until it became the very reason for your demise.

Six months had passed, and you'd managed to expertly avoid him. You worked different missions and Sam Wilson, god bless his sweet soul, went the extra mile to ensure your paths never crossed in a professional sense. On a personal level, however? That was a little more difficult. New York City felt a lot smaller after your break up. You found yourself occasionally ducking under your hood when you saw him on the F-train, or rushing to cross the road when you saw him coming towards you on the street.

That was when you had the whole city to lose yourself in; streets and shops and little food carts to distract yourself with should you need to. Being confined to the same room for a work party was a different story entirely, and one you didn't want to read. Yet, thanks to some insistence from your boss and a little grovelling from your colleagues, you found yourself rocking up to the former Avengers tower on a Friday night.

"So you do exist outside of your work uniform?" Sam Wilson greeted you with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah - nice to see you too, Wilson."

Despite your initial attempts to elbow him in the rips, he wrestled you off of him and pulled you into a tight hug. Sam was one of your favourite colleagues and oldest friends - he'd witnessed the rise and fall of your relationship with Bucky, and been there for you both during the break-up. That had been an exhausting few days, running between your respective apartments in an attempt to offer emotional support to you both.

"D'you want some champagne?" He asked.

"I'm good, but thank-"

You froze, eyes widening at the sight of James Barnes across the room. He looked quintessentially the same, bar for the fact his hair was a little longer and he had a fresh, pink scar under his left eye. Having ditched his usual attire for a black blazer, he looked good. Annoyingly so, in fact. It made you secretly grateful that you'd chosen to dress up a little more than usual too.

"- on second thoughts." You took the flute of champagne from Sam, also grabbing a shot of vodka from the same trey. It was gone in seconds.

"Need I ask?" Sam gave you a playful frown. His brown eyes followed your gaze over his shoulder, landing on the man you'd been staring at. "Ah. I need not."

"Sorry." You murmured. "We haven't actually spoken since, y'know."

"Since you had a break-up that made Ross and Rachel look good?"

"I don't think Bucky has ever seen Friends." You quipped.

"His loss." Sam shrugged. "You should talk to him."

"Nope." You snorted. "Absolutely not. I don't even know if he's moved on."

"Judging by the pretty blonde on his arm, I think he has," Sam replied. "Would you look at that! They're headed right for us."

That was a lot of information to process at once. You would have needed a week alone for your poor, tired brain to deal with the fact that Bucky had someone else on his arm, and a further three days to big yourself up enough to talk to him. Alas, that was not the case tonight. Instead, you had about five seconds between Sam finishing his sentence and your ex-boyfriend reaching you. It was just as well you found the energy within that timeframe to down your champagne.

You could see the woman on his arm clearer now. To give credit where credit was due, she stunning. She looked like the sort of girl who smelt of strawberries and Chanel, and grew her own vegetables on the fire escape. The kind of person you swore to be with every New Year that came, but quickly ditched after a week, returning to drinking coffee from the Starbucks under your apartment rather than going to the organic, vegan place a few blocks over. There was an ethereal glow about her and fuck. You were mad.

"Sam!" Bucky called out to his friend - for a minute, you thought he was ignoring you, before you realised he genuinely didn't recognise you. Your name rolled off his tongue with a tone of uncertainty, as though he was learning a new language and still learning how to pronounce things. "Wow. You look...different."

"So do you." You shot back. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Katie." He awkwardly smiled. "My...my girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you." You forced an equally pained grin, taking her hand in a shake.

"How do you and Bucky know each other?" She asked.

"Work." Bucky quickly said. You thinned your eyes at him, almost in disbelief.

"So you're an Avenger like these two?" Katie asked, clearly not picking up on the tension. "That's so cool."

"Not in an official capacity." You replied. "But they'd be fucked without me."

--

The night only got longer from there, really.

There wasn't enough champagne in the world to help the void in your soul. It was a gaping wound that Bucky Barnes had both filled and widened - and tonight, he was doing the latter. It sounded as though him and Katie were having a grand ol' time of it. From the parts of the conversation that you'd actually bothered to listen to, you'd gathered that she'd arrived in New York from London just over three months ago. That meant she had a fucking accent. Of course she did. It made everything she said a thousand times more interesting.

"We were in Paris, in this little cafe. What was it called, babe? Maison de vie?"

"Maison de l'amour, doll." Bucky corrected her. It had only sounded right when he was calling you that.

Your eyes shot up from your drink, immediately staring daggers at them both. The slimy bastard. You had been the one to show him that place. You'd been in Paris for a mission, and after realising it was your four-month anniversary, you'd taken him there for pancakes. It had been a slow morning, filled with hazy eyes and pink skies, and it had ended with him dropping the L-bomb for the first time. The photo you'd taken of Bucky, sat beside a pile of pancakes the same size of him and with whipped cream on his chin, had been your phone background until the day you broke up.

"I've been there." You didn't break away from his gaze, holding cold blue eyes in a trance that he found to be almost suffocating.

"Oh, nice!" Katie beamed. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah." You sniffed. "The company was shit, though."

"Oh, man." She replied. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not your fault." You gave her a sweet smile - to Bucky, it was a look of venom. "So, tell me more about your trip to Paris."

He quickly cleared his throat. "We didn't do much. Just a weekend getaway-"

"- are you forgetting that we saw Billy Joel?" Katie cut him off with a laugh. "The Billy Joel!"

"Right." It looked as though his mouth had gone completely dry.

"He told me he loved me for the first time to Uptown Girl-"

"-excuse me for a moment." You shoved your glass in her hand, before backing away from your little huddle.

Your brain was focused on getting away and only on getting away. The room suddenly felt a thousand times hotter, and a thousand times smaller too, as though the walls were closing in on you. Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad if they'd just collapsed around you and swallowed you fucking whole. Anything to get away from this situation.

Making a beeline for the balcony doors, you elbowed them open and stepped outside. The cold air of the rooftop gardens was a welcome contrast to the stuffy indoors, biting, night air hitting your face like an icy hug. The sounds of the city rung below you - sirens and yells and tourists - and tangled into the faint sound of the music, all parts of a world that your brain was working overtime to block out.

You focused on the city instead, using the bright lights of the surrounding buildings to anchor you to reality. None of it really even made sense - you were over Bucky. Had been for a long time. It was just the thought of him doing all the things that he'd done with you, with someone else. It made you feel a little bad for Katie, too.

"I was going to tell you about Billy Joel."

You glanced over your shoulder, giving a derivative snort. "Piss off, Bucky."

"I'm serious." He ignored your demand, cautiously approaching you.

"I brought you those tickets!" You turned around to face him. "We were meant to go together. Billy Joel was our thing."

"We broke up!' He reminded you. "Like I said, I was going to tell you that we went together-"

"- I don't care." You cut him off. "I genuinely don't care."

"That was a lot of storming off for someone who doesn't care."

"Okay, maybe I care a little bit." You huffed, taking a seat on a bench. "It's not even that you're with someone else, it's that you're doing all the things we did. The nicknames, the pancake place, the concert."

"I..." Bucky took a seat beside you, pondering for a moment.

"And declaring your love for someone to Uptown Girl is fucking weird." You muttered.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Vienna, obviously."

"You're such a pain in the ass." Bucky replied. "But for what it's worth, I wasn't thinking of Katie in that moment."

You glanced up at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"D'you remember that morning when we were in New Orleans?" He asked. "And we had a few hours to kill before our flight, so you started dancing around the hotel room to Uptown Girl?"

"I remember." You softly smiled.

"That was when I realised I loved you." He admitted. "I was replaying that in my head at the concert, and it just kinda came out, and Katie heard."

"Damn." You muttered. "Sucks to be her, huh?"

"I like Katie." He said. "Truth be told, doll, I'm still stuck in the past a little bit. With you, and with what we had."

"We fucking hated each other by the end, Buck."

"I know, but I mean all the stuff before that." He explained. "You were the first person who saw me for who I am and not what I've done. The first person that actually made me feel loved and worthy."

"I do try."

He lightly elbowed you "I'm serious. I think I'm just projecting my longing for what we had onto my current relationship."

"You're being painfully honest tonight." You observed. "It's fucking weird."

"Who taught me to be painfully honest?"

"Right." You rolled your eyes. "So this is how Frankenstein felt when he created his monster."

"You're the worst," Bucky muttered. "I genuinely am sorry, though. I shouldn't be recycling our memories. I should make new ones.'

Dusting off your trousers, you stood up. "You're right."

"Thank you, though."

"For what?"

"For finding me first," He replied, "and for teaching me what love is."

"Well, if you ever need to be reminded? You have my number."

[mc-lukanette]

Have you considered writing a "Truth" fix-it with Marinette admitting her secret to Luka? Maybe he could be a confidant like Marianne was for Fu.

Truth was having a terrible, awful, rotten, very bad day. If he could use his powers on the universe, he would've asked what he did to deserve this kind of treatment.

It started with his girlfriend keeping a secret from him concerning her ditching their dates, then escalated to Jagged Stone - who'd been his idol for years - turning out to be the father who abandoned him, and now he was fighting Ladybug and Chat Noir in Marinette's room after he’d been told by multiple people that Marinette’s supposed “secret” was that she was in love with Adrien, as if he hadn’t already known that and they just wanted to mock him.

His civilian self had never been never someone to presume, but now it's all he could do. Marinette must've ditched him because she didn't really love him, Jagged probably never even felt bad about abandoning him, and despite Adrien never even trying to win Marinette's heart, he was just better than Luka in every way, because the rich model with all the connections Marinette could ever want would always outmatch the "guitar boy" who worked a part-time job, lived on a houseboat, and had parents who either kept secrets from him or flat-out didn't want him.

Had it not been for his akumatization working to drive him towards a goal without interference, he would've cried. He wanted nothing more than to wake up and think the whole thing was just a bad nightmare, with dating Marinette just being brief highlights of it that kept getting shot down with a reminder that he wasn't good enough.

He wanted it all to be over.

Chat Noir was still trying to banter with him, but Truth wasn't having it. While going after Ladybug first wasn't ideal, as she was the smarter out of the two, it was easier to get rid of Chat Noir and deal with the heroes one at a time.

Thus, when Ladybug had run across the room to use her Lucky Charm, Truth acted. He managed to grab Chat Noir and throw him into the chest that Ladybug had been hiding in before, then locked it tight to prevent Chat from escaping. That done, he went after Ladybug, who was stunned but nevertheless prepared to fight. Chat Noir being out of the picture didn't impact her ability to fight, but Truth had Pharo on his side to knock Ladybug around when it was too hard to get a spotlight on her.

Finally, he managed to tackle her, her lying on her back and him pinning her arms down. The chest nearby rattled in protest, but Pharo shined its spotlight on it, preventing it from moving anymore.

Truth watched as Ladybug looked around for a method of escape, but she came up empty. Her eyes widened in the realization that... this was it. This was the end.

"Now," Truth said, clamping down harder on her arms as he leaned down, "tell me the truth!"

Ladybug tried to shut her lips tight, but he could see her struggling, her body shaking as she tried to free her arms to stop herself. It was only a matter of time.

Then, her mouth opened, and out came the words, "I love you, Luka!"

He froze, his fingers twitching in his confusion while he could only stare down at her in shock.

"And I'm so sorry! I'm sorry for everything! I wanted to tell you - I always wanted you to know - but I couldn't, and you deserve so much better than a hero who can't give you the time you deserve!"

A cold realization washed over him in form of a shudder. Those words could've been interpreted in so many ways, but he was the only one who registered their real meaning: that Marinette was Ladybug, her "ditching" had been her needing to fight akuma, her keeping secrets had been out of a desire to protect him, and he—

...He had only caused her more problems by getting akumatized, being no better than all those that had interrupted their dates. She loved him, and he gave into Shadow Moth to go against her.

Ladybug continued rambling, oblivious to his internal crisis, "You're incredible, and I just love you so much. I knew you were special from the day we met, when you called me—"

Truth clamped his hand over her mouth, preventing her from spilling any more secrets. He could feel Shadow Moth's influence in his mind, demanding that he remove his hand, but Truth ignored it, just as he'd been ignoring so many of his commands. The energy from akumatization that once made him feel powerful now made him feel disgusted with himself, guilt swirling in his gut and making him regret everything.

He reached up with his other hand, grabbing at his necklace and tearing it off. Ladybug's brows rose at the crunching of his akumatized object, and the last things he saw were the akuma flying free and Ladybug's expression turning to something...

thoughtful.

—————

Marinette de-transformed in a nearby alleyway and headed down towards the Seine, having not yet processed all of her feelings from that day. She had a little time left, given that Luka had quietly asked to walk back home himself, but she’d gotten no closer to clearing her mind since leaving her house. She was still a jumbled mess of "what if"s and "but maybe"s, and ultimately knew that it was going to be a matter of essentially winging it and just saying everything that she had on her mind.

As she approached the Liberty to wait for Luka, she paused as she noticed another figure already standing there. After all, Jagged Stone wasn't exactly someone you could not notice.

Before she could debate on whether to approach him, Jagged seemed to sense her and glanced over to make eye contact. She stiffened, only able to wave awkwardly and pretend like she didn't know why he'd be there.

"Hey, frockstar," Jagged greeted tiredly, his smile not quite reaching its usual lengths. "What are you doing here?"

"Um..." She walked over, standing next to him and staring in the direction where Luka was going to come from. "I need to talk to my boyfriend."

"Ah." It took a few seconds for the words to actually register with him, at which point Jagged turned to her, mouth agape as he grabbed her shoulders. "My son's your boyfriend?!"

She didn't quite have the energy to feign total surprise at the “son” comment, but she didn't have to. Jagged immediately pulled back without really looking at her, regaining his composure just as quickly as he'd lost it.

"You... wouldn't happen to be able to put in a good word for me, hm?" He grinned sheepishly, jabbing at Marinette with a hopeful elbow. "Haven't exactly figured out what I'm gonna say yet."

She was torn between being upset with him on Luka’s behalf and feigning sympathy because it was not only none of her business, but she was in a similar boat and felt like she had no right to judge.

She went with the latter, smiling weakly and jabbing him back. "That makes two of us." Then, she frowned as her nerves came back. "And... anyway, I don't know if he'll want to keep being my boyfriend after tonight."

For once, Jagged didn't pry or ask questions, the atmosphere probably felt even by him. They just stood there, waiting.

After a few minutes, Luka finally walked into view, staring at the ground and seeming defeated. Marinette felt ill at the sight, her fingers clutching at the fabric of her capris to find a sense of stability.

Should she approach him? Let Jagged go first? Or, maybe that would seem evasive, so—

She felt a pat on her shoulder, looking up at see Jagged urging her forward with his eyes. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful or consider him to be the evasive one, but Luka's akumatization was also mostly because of her and thus it only made sense for her to go first.

She ran the distance to get to him, Luka glancing up at the sound of her footsteps and stopping as she got to him. The usual light in his eyes wasn't there, and she had to force herself to even say a simple, "Um... hi."

"Hey." He hesitated, then rubbed the back of his head. "I'm really sorry, Marinette."

"Huh?"

"I got akumatized, and I was in your room when I woke up." His brows furrowed with uncharacteristic anxiety. "I didn't have to hear the song to know what the notes were. I must've gone after you."

Marinette blinked, having not even thought about him feeling guilty over the whole thing. She shook her head, reassuring, "No no! I mean—you told me to run! You didn't go after me, not really!"

She wasn't technically lying; he never sought her out to her knowledge, and even as Ladybug, she'd always had to chase him.

Luka sighed in relief, though his expression didn't change much. "I'm glad."

He met her gaze again. She yearned for the way he used to look at her like he wanted to get lost in her forever, but his eyes soon darted elsewhere as he noticed Jagged Stone standing not too far away.

Marinette tried not to get discouraged, stepping back into his vision and waving her hands to try and divert his attention. "Ah—don't worry about that! Look—" She paused, needing a moment to breathe, then lowered her hands and shifted to seriousness. "Can we talk? And walk? It's... really important."

She couldn't imagine the conclusions he must've been coming to in his head, partly because he didn't voice any of them. His eyes merely searched hers, seeking nothing in particular.

"Sure, Marinette," he agreed.

She managed a smile, happy that she made it this far at least. She reached out to take his hand, but stopped herself at the last second and simply walked past him, Luka taking one look back at Jagged before following after her.

The walk was tense and quiet, the only sounds coming from the evening ambiance and their footsteps. The uncertainty of it all gave her anxiety, but she'd been sure of that uncertainty since she first decided to talk to him about this.

Because, whatever the future of their relationship was, it would be in his hands.

—————

As they arrived at her intended destination, Marinette heard Luka briefly stop behind her, perhaps processing where she just took them. It was the Canal Saint-Martin, also known as the place where they'd first agreed to date, and now it was potentially the place where they'd break up as well. Marinette vaguely pondered if that would be for the best, like the memories would just cancel each other out and Luka could forget about it altogether if he wanted to.

Nevertheless, she walked over, glancing at the bridge for reference and sitting in roughly the same place she’d been all that time ago. She then tossed Luka a hopeful look, and he walked over to sit next to her.

Steeling herself up, Marinette took a breath, inhaling until she couldn't take in any more oxygen and then exhaling for just as long. At least a little more emotionally prepared than she was before, she finally spoke up.

"I...I'm sorry, Luka. I'm sorry that I got you akumatized—" She saw that he was about to interject and cut him off. "—and I know you don't blame me, but it doesn't matter—I mean—it does matter, but I'm still sorry anyway, okay? You had a right to be hurt and maybe if I'd explained myself better, then things would’ve been different."

He still seemed to want to argue, but was holding himself back so she could continue, which she appreciated.

"It's not that I didn't trust you. If anything, I—I trust you more than anyone else. You've never betrayed me and I know you'd never tell anyone if I told you my secret. You understand me even when I'm being the disaster that everyone laughs at - everyone but you - and..."

She sighed, pulling out her phone and navigating to her text conversation with him. Mentally wincing, she tapped on the photo of her Adrien wall that Ziggy had sent, then presented it to him. He leaned in to make sure of what it was, then looked back at her, clearly not understanding where she was going but knowing it wasn't her being spiteful or rubbing it in.

She said as much, "You don't assume anything, like when you got sent this dumb picture. I know it was obvious that it was an accident, but you didn’t have to go with it and you did. I wouldn't have blamed you if you got mad, but you didn't. Whenever I'm stammering and being an idiot because I'm scared or nervous, you don't judge me for it or think that whatever comes out is what I actually mean. That's so important to me, Luka, you have no idea."

She settled the phone between them and kept the picture on-screen. Her gaze flickered down to it, silently encouraging him to look at it too, then glanced back up at him.

"How much do you know about fashion?"

He tilted his head, thrown off by the sudden question, but answered anyway, "Only what my sister's ever talked about."

"Do you know why fashion trends die so quickly?" When he shook his head, she explained, "Part of it is the over-exposure. When people hear about what's in at the time, suddenly everyone starts wearing whatever it is, so everywhere you look, you see it, and then people get tired of it."

There was a flicker of understanding in his eyes, Luka looking back-and-forth between her and the phone like he was piecing a puzzle together.

She confirmed it for him, "That's why I have so many. I don't feel that way about him anymore - I don't think I ever did - but I just don't know how to act around him. I hate how the whole idolizing thing took over my life and I already tried everything else, so I figured this might work." She groaned. "And of course it blew up on me and you got sent that without any context. Of course."

He gave a look of concern at the exasperation in her tone, but she tried to ignore it, not wanting his sympathy.

"My point is..." She gestured vaguely at the phone. "I stammer about him, but it's not because I'm in love with him, it's because I've never really been his friend and I don't know how to do it. I'm not dedicated to him and I'm getting better at not doing the stuff I used to."

His eyes flickered again and she wondered if he was thinking about that day on the Liberty where she was late to Kitty Section playing, where she ignored Adrien entirely. Just for emphasis, she tapped her phone and deleted the picture, adding on, "I'm only dedicated to you, Luka. I—"

She shifted in place, hitting the wall behind her feet a few times with her heels to ease off the anxiousness. It was so much easier when she’d been Ladybug, though granted that she was under the influence of Truth's spell at the time. She and Luka were dating, yet she was sure he'd ask her to end it, making putting herself out there all the scarier.

"I..." She met his gaze. "I love you." He gaped at the confession and she continued on, "I love you like I haven't loved anyone else before; definitely not Adrien. It's the kind of love that actually makes me happy, and comfortable, and my life is better with you in it."

She bit her bottom lip, hands curling into fists at the tight feeling in her chest. She turned, placing one hand on the ground as she began to push herself up, her other hand landing on Luka's shoulder to wordlessly insist that he didn't have to stand with her, so his gaze merely followed her as she moved.

"But that's the thing." She took a few steps away, back turned to him as she stared up at the sky. Her stomach twisted itself in knots at the words in her throat, but she nonetheless admitted, "I don't think it's mutual."

Luka's voice took on a sharp, offended tone. "Marinette—"

She spun to face him, cutting him off, "—and I know that you're going to say something sweet and heartfelt about how everyone has a place in your life and then something about how bad notes can still make good songs, but... Luka, you don't understand."

She turned away from him again, this time pacing as she counted off events. "Bullies and liars target me, and sometimes that means going after people I care about. I'm clumsy and a stuttering mess and you wouldn't believe the mistakes I made that I couldn't have even seen coming. It seems like I draw bad luck wherever I go; I mean, your mother is one of the most chaotic people I can think of, so you'd think she'd get akumatized a bunch, but it was only the day I showed up that she did. Even the other boys who only loved me for a little bit either got akumatized over it or became an anxious mess until they found out who they actually liked, and that last one would've at least been really useful to think about if I'd just made the connection back then, but I didn't!" She paused, then met his eyes with a pained expression. "And then there's you."

"What do you mean?"

She stopped in place, not knowing whether to be touched or not by the fact that he either hadn't noticed or was pretending not to. Throwing her arms out, she explained, "Things go bad whenever we hang out! I already mentioned your mom, but then there was the ice rink; even without me getting distracted when all you were trying to do was make me feel better, there was an akuma and you probably got frozen solid by him. When we were hanging out on the Liberty, Adrien just happened to show up on that day with Kagami to turn me into a mess, and then Desperada came to make everything worse."

Marinette couldn't remember when she'd started thinking about such things or feeling guilty for everything that ever happened. There was just a point where it felt like she was always apologizing for something, no matter how small it was, and stuff being her fault became par for the course by then.

"Then, both times you got akumatized, it was because of me—and I know you don't blame me, but I'm always involved! You were ready to leave the TV station, but because I tried to put up a fight, Bob Roth threatened me and that was your last straw. Today was the same thing; you were already upset about what happened with your dad and then it was me who sent you over the edge!" She shut her eyes tight, the memories painful to relive. "You're always putting up with me, Luka. You put up with me crying all over you and even dropped your guitar for it, and then you had to protect me from Miracle Queen's mind control! I'm supposed to protect you!"

He recoiled at the volume of her voice, then furrowed his brows, his eyes darting back and forth as he seemed to process something particular about what she said.

"I'm supposed to make you happy, and I can't. Out of all the people in Paris who should be able to keep you from getting akumatized, it should be me, and all I've done is hurt you. You're the calmest person I've ever known and then I came along and gave you feelings you didn't ask for. Sometimes—" She shook, choking briefly on the words. "Sometimes I wonder if it would've been better for you if you never met me."

Luka's gaze sharpened. He didn't reply, but turned fully to her, pushing himself up as if to approach.

However, she stepped back, his look then flashing to hurt. She took a breath, expression determined as she said with her whole chest, "I'm Ladybug, Luka."

He froze, his body going stiff and his eyes blinking rapidly at either the reveal itself or the way she’d so firmly said it.

"I'm Ladybug," she repeated quietly, this time with an ache in her voice, "and I'm telling you not because I trust you—I mean, I do trust you—but I also believe in you; that you wouldn't sell me out to Shadow Moth even with all the mind control in the world. You've always had my back and supported me even when I didn't deserve it, and I want you to know. It's dangerous and I don't know what'll happen and I'm scared but I want you to know it." She put a hand to her chest. "I'm the one who has to save Paris whenever something happens, and that's why I always had to ditch you. I'm the one who messed up and lost you your identity as Viperion. I'm the new guardian of the miraculouses, and the kwami don't even listen to me; they invaded my privacy and it was one of them that took and sent you that picture."

She realized that her vision was staring to blur and looked skywards, trying to fight back tears.

"I-I'm not a normal girl. I can't be a normal girlfriend, or give you everything you'd want out of a normal relationship. It's my fault that you got akumatized because I just—I wanted you. I wanted to be in a relationship and go on dates with you, but Ladybug isn't supposed to want things. She's supposed to be selfless and only worry about everyone else, but... you made me happy, and I wanted more of that. You were the first person I really felt like I could be myself around without being scolded or lied to and I thought it would be okay..."

She noticed him moving and quickly turned her back to him, at least able to let the tears fall now without him seeing them.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I always think I can handle things but then it goes wrong and I end up hurting people. If I'd just gone home the day of the music festival instead of complaining about Adrien not being around, then none of this would've happened." She sighed in frustration, wiping her eyes clean of tears, and she was so focused on forcing her words out that she didn't hear the footsteps coming from behind her. "I-it's okay if you want to break up, Luka. It wasn't fair that I kept you in the dark, and I understand if you're mad, or you want to date other people, o-or if you don't love me anymore—"

Her voice cut off with a gasp as a pair of arms wrapped around her midsection, pulling her against a familiar, warm chest that had an unfamiliarly pounding heartbeat. She tried to look up at him, but his hair was shadowing out his eyes and left only his trembling lips visible. In fact, his whole body was shaking, as if it were winter and no amount of layers could keep him warm.

"L-luka?" she called, confused.

"Stop," he begged quietly, the hug tightening briefly to give her a squeeze. "Please."

"But..." She trailed off, acknowledging the request. She'd never heard his voice just break like that.

"You've already sung your part of our duet, Marinette. Now it's my turn." He paused, taking an unsteady breath before continuing, "I'm glad you told me your secret. I know you're worried about me being in danger, but it makes me happy that you can rely on me now. Music boxes aren't meant to stay shut, and you deserve someone who you can open up to, even if I hate that you have to mute yourself in the first place to keep everyone safe."

She opened her mouth, wanting to say that it was okay and it was just her job, but kept quiet to respect his earlier request.

"My life isn't worse because I met you," he murmured, an unspoken plea in his tone that told her to never think that way again. "I felt things with you that I never have before. My song started out as a flatline, then we met and you made it move. Music isn't exciting if it doesn't change but you did that for me. What you might see as bad notes is my passion for you, and I won't apologize for it or make you apologize for messing up just like every person does. I'd never wanted someone before you, and even if you never wanted to date me, I'm grateful that I got to know you; to fall for you."

Marinette blinked in an attempt to stop oncoming tears, Luka pulling her closer for comfort when she whimpered.

"All that mattered to me is when we were together, just the two of us. That's when your melody plays the clearest and when I get to see you. Those two weeks when we were preparing our music video were some of the best two weeks of my life because I got to see you in your element. I've accepted every break in the tempo because I've heard you, I've heard the Marinette you've wanted to be, and I want to be there for every beat of it." Then, he exhaled, adding with a somber tone, "I can't imagine how much pressure you must be under, or how awful things are and how impossible it must be to sing when you can't even take a breath without something going wrong. I just... I want to help you be happy. I don't care what you, your kwami, or anyone else says; you're allowed to be happy, Marinette, and I'd drop a thousand of my guitars if it meant that you get to play happy notes one more time."

She let out a sob, blushing pink as her hands unconsciously raised to rest on the ones around her waist, Luka sighing in content and nestling further against her.

"So I don't want to break up with you, Marinette. Not at all. I just want to find ways to make it easier on you - on both of us - and if that means finding ways of planning our dates around akuma attacks, or not planning at all and going wherever the rhythm leads, then that's what we'll do."

She tried to keep quiet, but couldn't help voicing, "W-what if... what if it doesn't work? What if I have to bail on you every now and then? People will think—"

"I was never worried about that," he retorted immediately. "I'm a Couffaine. My clothes are ripped, I carry my guitar in the basket on my bike, and I live on a boat. I stopped caring about what people thought a long time ago."

He was unbelievable. Marinette didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she did both. He just held her there, his heart still beating against her back but now serving as something to calm her.

"The only opinions that matter in our duet are yours and mine," he said. His hold loosened, though hesitating like it was physically painful to release her. He let her go nonetheless and held his hands out in front of her, palms facing the sky. "So what about you, Marinette?"

She stared at his hands, then slowly raised her own to hover over them. She breathed up, then slid her fingers across his palms until their calloused fingertips met, neither making any move to pull away.

"I...I want to make it work," she whispered, leaning back against him. "I want to be with you, Luka. I'm at my best when I'm with you. I just..."

She stopped, knowing that he would have an argument for anything she said. If she apologized for the failed dates that she can never fix, he'd argue that it'd be worse to leave things off a sour note, and that not every good song starts out good. If she tried to suggest other people for him to date or imply that it'd be easier with someone else, he'd say that his guitar plays only for her and he wouldn't change that even if he could.

"...I'm sorry," she said, smiling her first genuine smile of the night. "I won't doubt myself anymore."

Even though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was smiling too. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah. Do—do you?"

"Yeah," he replied, voice thick with emotion.

Wanting to see his face, she slowly dropped their hands and turned to face him, silently hoping that she didn't look awful from her earlier tears. However, to her surprise, she noticed that Luka's eyes were watery despite his smile, just like her. Realizing something, she raised a hand to her shoulder, where his face had been hovering over ever since he'd hugged her from behind.

It was wet.

"Oh, Luka..."

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him against her. He returned the gesture, squeezing her lovingly and giving her back a few rubs that she responded to with a happy hum. They held the position, the warmth of the hug completely negating the slight chill of the night air.

Even when they pulled away, it wasn't far nor for long. Marinette wasn't sure which of them initiated it, but one moment they were staring at each other and the next they were kissing. It had been long overdue and she idly thought that it was better than she would've imagined their kiss at the cinema to be.

She breathed in his scent, her fingers blindly reaching up to slide into his hair. She almost felt like crying again, though this time in relief that everything had actually worked out for once and they were kissing without interruption. Even though Luka was more subtle in showing his emotions, she could tell that he felt the same from the way his hand on her back shook, practically vibrating with happiness.

The kiss eventually broke with a soft click, though she kept her hands on him for the sake of stability. They were both breathing a little hard from the emotional toll of the conversation yet not necessarily in a bad way.

And the love in his eyes - the life that she missed so much - was back. She honestly thought she wouldn’t have seen it again and she was tempted to just keep kissing him in relief, part of her aware that he definitely wouldn’t have minded it.

It took her a few tries to get the words out, hesitant to break up their wordless exchanges of love. She knew what revelation was waiting for Luka back at his houseboat - maybe he'd already guessed it - and she wanted to be there for him, so she asked carefully, "Do you... want me to come back to the Liberty with you?"

Eyes half-lidded, he gave her a soft smile and gently squeezed her hand. "Yeah. Do you want to sleep over?"

She nodded. "Mm, I'd like that."

Holding hands, they began making their way back to the Liberty, the ambiance of the night finally coming through to soothe them. Marinette glanced down at their joined hands, then at the wide smile on Luka's face, the latter clearly caused by the former.

She looked ahead at where they were walking, pretending that she hadn't just been admiring him. "We could always go out for breakfast together. That might work out."

"That sounds amazing." Luka feigned a look of thoughtfulness. "Maybe Shadow Moth doesn't like mornings?"

Marinette squeaked mid-giggle. "You'd think that'd be the case from the name, huh?"

He chuckled, covering his mouth with his free hand, and the conversation remained light from there. Any bad feelings from the day had evaporated, leaving only smiles and hope for the future in its place.

Everything was going to be okay. For once, Marinette could truly believe that.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 126: Arranged Marriage

April 16th was an appropriately stormy day.

Harry sat in the window seat, watching the rain batter the glass and cursing arranged marriages, cursing Astoria Greengrass, cursing Draco Malfoy, and cursing himself for falling for his auror partner. Everything about today was awful and he was vindictively glad that it was pouring on their wedding day. He hoped that their umbrella charm failed and Astoria's lovely hair got soaked.

He was trying to find the energy to get up and make some tea when there was frantic pounding on the door. His head snapped up in surprise, heart jumping to his throat but he forced it back down. The knocking continued so he pulled himself up and headed to the front door.

"I'm not in the mood today," he said as he opened it.

"Hi."

Harry stared at the man who was standing before him in white and gold dress robes, his long hair bound in an elaborate braid with gold ribbon woven through. He was gorgeous and it made Harry's brittle heart shatter further.

"I'm getting married today," Draco said.

He swallowed, pain slicing through him like a well placed diffindo. "I know," he rasped.

"You," Draco started, flicking his braid over his shoulder and licking his lower lip, "You're supposed to be there."

"Don't ask that of me," Harry whispered, choking on the words.

"Harry, you're my best friend-"

He shook his head, "I can't, Draco," he begged, hoping he would understand. "I can't."

"Please, I need you-"

"No you don't," he replied, clenching his fist and digging his nails into his palm hard enough to draw blood.

Draco's lower lip protruded and he looked on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry, Draco," he whispered. "I just can't watch you get married to someone," who isn't me went left unsaid but Harry wondered if the other man could hear it anyway.

"But-" he began again.

He shook his head and stepped back, "Happy wedding day," he murmured, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "I hope you'll both be happy," he added before closing the door, putting it between him and Draco. Harry turned his back to the door and slid to the floor, staring unseeingly into the dark house and wondering if it would ever seem bright again.

(Read more below the cut)

Draco stood and stared at the door for a long moment, aching with the desire to reach out and open it, to pull Harry into his arms and promise to never leave him. He didn't know why he'd come, Harry not showing up this morning for brunch with the other groomsmen ought to have been enough.

He leaned his forehead against the door and gave himself one minute. One minute to allow the memories, the yearning to rush in. To remember the way Harry had looked last night at his bachelor party, drunk and smiling at him, smiling so wide that his dimples stood out. He remembered how they stayed up after all of the other groomsmen had pulled someone and turned in for the night.

Remembered the way they'd gone back to Draco's hotel room for a game of cards and ended up sprawled out on the floor, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, just talking. Let himself remember how free he'd felt, like he could be anything and Harry would still accept him.

"You're my best friend," Draco had told him.

"I'm in love with you," Harry had replied.

He tried to stop the memory there, tried to keep his brain from replaying the way Harry's face had crumpled, the way his tears had made his vivid green eyes brighter than all the stars in the sky. He tried to forget the way he'd said, "but I'm getting married tomorrow" and the way that had made Harry cry even harder. Draco tried to forget the way that Harry had stood up with a mumbled apology and stumbled from the room.

But mostly, he tried to forget the way that he had chosen not to follow.

One minute. That's all he allowed himself before he stood up and straightened his shoulders. Getting married was what was expected of him, the scene he would cause if he didn't, well, it didn't even bear thinking about. With one last glance at the door, he apparated away to tell Greg that he'd been promoted to best man.

-------------

Astoria looked beautiful. Her white and gold dress robes were radiant and she had pearls woven into her hair. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand when he reached out to receive her. "You look stunning," he murmured.

Her smile widened and she looked so happy that Draco's heart ached.

They approached the altar together and the ceremony started. When it came time for them to be bound by magic, Draco took her left had with his and they pointed their wands at their wrists.

"Ready?" Astoria asked. They'd practiced this, without their wands of course; they'd practiced timing the words right, syncing the words that would bind them together.

He stared at her, at her warm, comfortable brown eyes. He knew if they got married that he'd come home every night to those eyes. She was good and kind, and Draco loved her.

But not the way he loved Harry.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"What?" she asked, her smile slipping a touch.

"I can't," he said, parroting the words Harry had said to him this morning and shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Tor," he breathed, "But I can't do this."

Everyone around them started whispering and Draco's heart beat a little faster. "What?" she repeated.

"You're a dear friend," he said, ignoring the people around them, "but don't you want more for us? Don't you want passion and-"

"Draco," his father hissed, "Get yourself under control."

He released Astoria's hand, "Don't you want a love you've chosen?"

"It's Harry, isn't it?" she asked as a tear slid down her porcelain skin.

The room was positively buzzing now. "I'm sorry," he said again.

She took a breath and stepped toward him, and for a moment, Draco was sure that he was going to be slapped. But then her arms wrapped around him, drawing him into a hug. "You're being brave," she whispered, "and no one is going to thank you for it." She drew back slightly, "but I'm proud of you."

He pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Go," she said, pulling back and drying her eyes.

Draco nodded, "You should go on the honeymoon," he said because he knew that she'd always wanted to go to Greece. Then he stepped back before anyone could get to him and apparated out of the wedding chamber and straight to Harry's door not even bothering to put up an impervius to stop the rain. "Harry!" he shouted, banging on the door again. "Harry!"

The door flew open, "What are you doing here?" Harry asked, nearly frantic, "You're supposed to be getting married."

He stared at the other man, allowed himself to fully feel everything for the first time. His heart expanded and clunked painfully against his ribs and tears stung the back of his eyes and rain ran down his face, "I couldn't," he managed.

Harry looked stricken, "Merlin, Draco, I am so sorry. I never should have-"

Draco closed the distance between them and kissed Harry.

The other man's body went rigid for a moment before he melted into Draco, clinging to him and letting out a choked sob.

He pulled back, "I'm an idiot."

Harry blinked at him and then nodded miserably, "I'm so sorry-"

"No," he interrupted. "Circe, no. Not for kissing you but because I have spent the past three years in love with you and too stubborn and foolish to do anything about it."

"Draco," Harry breathed, eyes shining again.

"Can you invited me in?" he asked with a laugh. "We're getting soaked."

Harry nodded and pulled the other man inside, Draco was about to say something more but Harry caught him around the waist and pressed him back against the wall, kissing him again, his mouth hot and insistent against Draco's. "I love you," he murmured into the kiss, branding the words against Draco's mouth. Before pressing kisses all over Draco's face, along his cheeks, his nose, his chin, his forehead, and even his eyelids. "I love you," he said again, burying his face in Draco's neck and holding him tight.

"I love you, too," he whispered, carding his fingers through Harry's messy curls and pressing a kiss to Harry's temple.

"This is crazy," Harry muttered into the sensitive skin of Draco's neck. He pulled back and Draco saw that he was grinning at him, "You're absolutely barking. I can't believe you did that. Your parents must be pissed."

"I imagine they are," he replied.

"You imagine they are? As in you don't know that they are?" he asked incredulously.

He huffed, "Like I was going to just stuck around to find out. No thank you. Mummy will need time to talk Father out of disowning me, and Astoria will need time to convince her that this is the right thing."

"Astoria?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.

He nodded, "she's surprisingly good with my parents, definitely one of the perks of marrying her." Draco grinned at him, "The sex had better be good."

"The sex will be fantastic," Harry promised. "So, how long do you think it's going to take your parents to forgive you?"

"A few weeks at least."

Harry brushed the hair off Draco's face, "Let's go somewhere," he said.

"What?"

The other man nodded, "Like on a vacation or something. You're off the next two weeks because you were supposed to go honeymooning and I'm off the next two weeks because I didn't want to deal with an idiot temporary partner and because I was anticipating being a bit heartbroken," he shrugged. "Let's go on vacation."

He laughed, "I'll go anywhere as long as it's with you."

------------------

Day 125: Accidental Bonding | Day 126: Fake Dating

[hops-hunny]

Those Bloody Girls

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Beauxbaton!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Request: “I couldn't sleep soooo

Neville absolutely worshiping his beauxbaton gf but his friends think he's full of shit when he tries to tell them about how fucking gorgeous and fantastic she is. And everytime he tries to introduce her to his friends something goes wrong and his friends end up looking at him like he's crazy cuz he's introducing absolutely nothing but air. And separately she has been accidentally meeting all his friends one on one, helping Ron pick up his books in the hall, cleaning off some soot from Seamus face because he looked rather silly, encouraging harry before one of his quidditch matches/Triwizard trials etc and all the while they have no idea that's Nevilles wonderful gf and they all develop a crush on her never telling each other anything so when they finally meet her it's hilarious 😂

-🦡”

Summary: The request says it all

Warnings: None!

A/N: This was such a fun idea. I loved writing this all hail 🦡 anon.

If there was anything Beauxbaton girl's were known for, it was their beautiful looks. They were graceful and diligent, each one graced with the face of an angel, and Neville just so happened to have the prettiest one. They had met during the summer by a complete chain of accidents resulting in one of the greatest blessings he could've ever asked for. Neville was lucky and he knew it, never letting anyone forget.

"Oh bullshit! You're saying she's got a cute face, nice waist, and she can bake? Ha! I'll believe it when I see it, Nev." Ron snorted, Seamus nodding along with him.

"Yeah you expect us to just believe a girl from Beauxbaton of all places chose you? No offense Nev but Beauxbaton girl's have standards and none of us Hogwarts boys meet em." Seamus said, shrugging as he continued to throw rolled up bits of paper in Dean's hair (who still hadn't noticed.). Neville rolled his eyes in irritation, looking to Harry and Dean as well but for once, they were on the same page as the other two.

"Sorry Nev. It's just, a Beauxbaton girl? And from the way you describe it, the most beautiful one in her year if not school?" Harry said, giving him a sympathetic look. 

"Yeah mate. You've gotta understand where we're coming from." Dean chimed, turning his attention back to the assignment in his lap. Neville groaned, glaring at his friends.

"You guys act like I haven't tried to introduce you to her! Every time I try to you guys go and get yourselves into something stupid or I end up busy. Let's all agree that Friday you will meet her, no matter what." the boys all nodded in agreement, not really thinking much of it. After all, there was no girlfriend but if it'd ease his mind, they'd show up.

----------------

Ron swore angrily, rolling his eyes in frustration. It was just his luck that he'd drop all his quills and the massive scroll of paper rolling away with his bits of sanity. Normally he'd just collect them and go on with it, not really worrying about time but for once in his god damn life he had made an effort to study for the exam he had next hour and if he was late? All that bloody time would be wasted! However, his worries began to fade as a small manicured (s/c) hand began to gather his quills. His eyes widened as he looked at the girl, mouth gaping.

She had (h/l) (h/c) hair that was an even more vibrant (h/c) in the afternoon sun. Beautiful plush (s/c) thighs (that he'd like to see more from under that little skirt), and not to mention the most beautiful set of (e/c) eyes he had ever seen. But when she smiled? Oh when she smiled, he was hooked. The little emblem on her shirt confirmed his suspicion. Beauxbaton. However what he did miss was the words that were currently leaving her mouth.

"I'm sorry...what?" he asked, causing a giggle to erupt from the girl's mouth. She smiled, handing him the quills that he had dropped.

"I said it's a shame that this happened to you! I hope you aren't too late. I have a free period so I'll carry these to your class for you!" she offered, silence falling over them as he continued to stare at her in awe. His face flushed as she cleared her throat, looking at him expectantly.

"O-oh! Right, yes, thank you. That'd be helpful." He offered her a small smile as he began to walk. The entire time of the walk there, she helped him by quizzing him on the subject and by the time he got there, he felt like he remembered everything!

Everything but asking for her name. He felt like an idiot but for once, it wasn't because of school.

------------------------

Seamus sat at the cauldron, focusing on the ingredients list. His partner had decided from every other time in potions, that he wasn't allowed to touch anything. They had a perfect grade and didn't want it to be ruined from the likes of him. However, he was growing restless. It couldn't be too hard...right? Wrong, so wrong.

He dropped in a few spider legs, stirring counterclockwise like the book had instructed. However, as it turned an angry red and bubbles began to form, he knew that he had screwed up big time. He tried backing away but it was too late, the potion had erupted in a large explosion, black soot coating his face and hair. Everyone in the class turned to look at him, some laughing while some were utterly annoyed. This was such a common thing that it was a miracle when he didn’t blow something up. He flashed Snape a bright smile, ignoring the way the vein on the man’s forehead twitched and juttered in annoyance.

“Class dismissed.” he seethed out. Before he could issue a punishment, Seamus ran off down the hallway ignoring the harsh yells of the potion’s master. He continued to run and run until he accidentally bumped into a group of girls sending him straight to the floor. His face turned rouge with embarrassment as they laughed at his scuffed appearance but a divine voice broke through the laughter.

“Leave him alone guys! You all go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later.” she said, pushing her friends to go ahead in the other direction. Seamus looked up, admiring how beautiful they were but especially the (h/c) haired one in the middle of them all. She was a walking sculpture, a painting straight from the louvre. She was..

“Hot.” he blattered out, not even realizing his words. His eyes widened as he stood up clearing his throat. Luckily for him she hadn’t heard him, causing him to look up to the ceiling and give a quick thank to Merlin himself. She looked back at him, frowning slightly as she observed the soot on his freckled face. Her eyes lit up as she reached into the small purse on her shoulder, pulling out a silk fabric.

“Can’t have you going around looking all silly! Come here.” she said, motioning for him to lean down. He did so instantaneously, cheeks turning even more red as she licked the small fabric before beginning to wipe at the mess on his face. It was an action his mother had done multiple times but for some reason, he found this to be far more endearing. Her face was close to his, giving him a good look at the light layer of gloss on her plump lips. He couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had ever kissed them before, if she had ever had them wrapped around a-

“All done! I can’t do much for your hair but it’s not that noticeable. I have to get going though, bye!” She said flashing him a smile before walking away. When she was out of sight, he couldn’t help but wonder if that had even happened. Did a beautiful girl really just hold his face and clean it...out of the kindness of her heart? Was it truly possible for someone to look so perfect and act so kind? He didn’t know but he surely did wanna find out. He smirked to himself, standing up straight as he walked down the hall.

“She wants me.”

---------------------------------

Harry splashed some water on his face, running a shaky hand through his hair. No matter how many times he’d hop on that broom, zooming around in the sky with the intent to win, he always got painstakingly nervous before a match. He observed his appearance, grimacing at the sickly green undertone to his face. Was he going to puke again? Didn’t matter, he didn’t have time. Sighing he walked out the bathroom, sneaking to observe how many people were in the crowd. His eyes began to wander to the Beauxbaton girls, admiring how pretty they were in the stands. However, what he wasn’t prepared for was for a pretty face to walk over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Harry, right?” she asked, a gentle smile on her stunning face. His breath hitched as he felt himself be taken by a new set of nerves.

“R-right. Yeah that’s me. I’m, I’m Harry.” he internally kicked himself. How embarrassing. One of the most lovely girls he had ever seen and here he was, making himself look like a fool. His nerves were soothed some when he heard her laugh, a sound like beautiful Christmas bells.

“I think we already established that.” she said, grinning even more. She patted his shoulder as she looked at him, eyes full of sincerity. “No need to be nervous. I’ve heard you’re one of the best players on the field! Do your best out there! I’m rooting for ya.” she began walking off, flipping her Gryffindor scarf around her shoulder. Whether she meant rooting for him personally or the team didn’t matter. A determined look took his face as he began to make his way to his team. He was going to win this, for her.

----------------------

Friday came around quicker than any of them had expected, not like it mattered to them. They all sat around looking at each other, a shared thought running through most of their heads. As if Neville could hear it, he groaned standing up angrily.

“Guys! I swear she’s real! She’s just running a bit late, she’s horrible with time management. Plus, she’s well known amongst her peers so she’s always getting asked to help with things.” he grumbled, staring at them with disdain. 

“Nev, it’s okay you don’t have to keep lying. We’ll get you a girlfriend since clearly you’re going mad thinking that you have one.” Seamus said, prompting the boy to throw his textbook at the boy which hit his head with a loud thud. They all looked up as peach colored owl flew in, dropping a note into Neville’s hand. The boys set up a bit straighter, unfamiliar with the owl. The boy’s eyes scanned the page, taking in the words before nodding.

“Alright, it seems she wants us to come to her. She’s by the fountain in the courtyard! That’s cute, she forgot she was supposed to come to me.” he chuckled fondly at the thought of his forgetful girlfriend before turning to walk. His friends still sat on the couch, stunned that this girl might actually be real. “Well don’t just sit there, let’s go!”

All of them scrambled up and began to follow their lanky friend, mumbling amongst themselves.

“No way. Do you think she’s real?”

“Well I’ve never seen that owl!”

“This is insane. Okay if she’s real, she definitely can’t be as hot as he said she is.”

“Yeah probably one of the more...unsightly Beauxbaton girls.”

Wrong. Terribly wrong. Th-that was her? It couldn’t be. However, as the girl’s big doe eyes lit up it was slowly becoming a big possibility. And as she ran to him, jumping into his arms, that possibility became reality right in front of their eyes. Neville leaned in kissing the girl, holding her up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss as she pulled away. Her eyes turned to the group of guys, surprise taking over her face. Neville looked back and forth between her expression and the one of his friends.

“You guys alright?” he asked confusedly, setting the girl back on the ground before pulling her into his side. She eyed them carefully before tilting her head.

“Have we met before?” 

“NO!” they all shouted in unison. They all turned to each other in confusion, stepping away from the happy couple.

“You met her too?!” Harry whisper shouted, eyeing the other two. Ron nodded frantically, unable to respond verbally due to the shock and queasiness overtaking him. The beautiful girl from Wednesday was Neville’s girl? Life was not being fair by putting that bird in his hands.

“Like hell I did! She was practically all over me.” Seamus exclaimed, all of them turning to look at the girl who had a lovesick look on her face as Neville rambled on about something. 

“Okay now that one I doubt. I can’t fucking believe this. I’ve been thinking about her all week.” Ron groaned out, crossing his arms angrily. Harry nodded in agreement, grabbing the flask that Seamus had pulled out taking a big swig of it.

“You’re telling me. I did a lot more than think about her if you know what I mean.” Seamus mumbled, eyeing the girl’s rear.

“Sadly I do and I wish I didn’t.” Harry grimaced as the gruesome image popped up in his head. “Come on, we better head back over before they think something is up.”

“My bunny says she met you all earlier in the week! How come you didn’t tell me?” he questioned, watching as the boys practically drooled over her.

“I dunno sorta...slipped my mind.” Harry trailed off, eyes dragging along her exposed midriff.

“Nah I’ll be honest. Bird was too hot and didn’t get her name. ‘S a shame really.” Seamus shrugged, earning a kick to the knee from Harry. “What?! I know you thought it too. Congrats Longbottom, you’ve got a grade A girl there.”

Neville looked down at the smaller girl, smiling some as she looked away shyly at the kind words she was receiving. 

“Yeah, I do.”

[zafirosreverie]

Must be the eyes (Teacher!Agatha x Fem!Student!Reader) part 2

(Part 1)

a/n: this is long, like, really long. Uppsies

- - - - - - - - - - -

Salem ... you were going to Salem !!

Nick laughed at you when you jumped out of happiness, before wrapping your arms around him and spinning him around. You were quite excited.

"I see someone is excited" he laughed as you let him go

"Sorry" you laughed "I just can't believe it! We’re going to Salem, Nick!" you screamed with excitement

"Yes yes, I was in class too, history girl” he laughed again "But it doesn't seem a bit strange to you that just last friday you mentioned that you wanted to go, and today, monday, they tell us that they will take us on a field trip precisely to Salem? Not to mention that Ms Harkness doesn't seem like the kind of teacher who wants to take her students on trips. "

"So?" you asked. You knew exactly what he was implying, but you decided to play innocent "Maybe the universe thought it would be a good time to pay me what it owes me"

"Suuuuure. And Ms Harkness totally wasn't looking at you during the entire announcement" He said

"She wasn't" you agreed, making him roll his eyes.

Except that she totally was. Nick was right. From the moment the older woman had walked into the classroom, you could feel her eyes fixed on you. At first you felt like you were in trouble, but when she started talking about the trip she and professor Maximoff had planned, a part of you (a small and somewhat selfish part) couldn't help but think that maybe she was doing it for you.

It was silly and you knew it, why would a woman like Agatha Harkness go to the trouble of planning a whole field trip, getting a hotel, food and transportation for almost 30 students, just so that you specifically could fulfill one of your dreams? Not to mention, there was no way she knew about it.

But the feeling that you were something special to her, even if it was only in your imagination, was enough for you.

You sighed "Nick, if you're still upset about the project, I'm sorry ok? But don't get me in your business with her"

"Hey! I didn't sleep all weekend to finish it, okay?" he defended himself "I didn't even go to the movies with Dalton, Y/N. Do you know what that means? I missed a date with him!" he pouted, making you laugh

"First of all, you had almost the entire month to do the project, you shouldn't have put it off until the last minute. Second, it wasn't even a date! You haven't been able to confess your feelings to Dalton in two years"

"So? At least I'm making progress with him, you've been drooling over our teacher since the first day of college and all you've done is have these tense discussions with her."

"Shhhhh" you shut him up "shout it out to everyone, would you?"

"Hey, you started"

"It's different and you know it Nick" you sighed "You're only a year older than Dalton. There are at least 10 years between me and Ms Harkness, not to mention that she is our teacher!"

"Pfff, 10 years? Come on Y/N, we both know she's probably twice your age" Nick scoffed

"She's not that old" you blushed "And that's not the point anyway"

"Right" he nodded "the point is that your girlfriend is going to take us all to a haunted town just to make you happy" he smirked.

"My what- she’s not-" you stuttered.

Nick laughed and you flushed with both embarrassment and anger. You ran after him to try to hit him, not noticing the pair of blue eyes staring at you from a window.

________

Agatha sighed to herself as she watched you walk away with that little friend of yours. She had watched all the interaction and when she saw you blush she wished she could listen, but you were too far away.

However, what she did hear were your screams of excitement and she couldn't help but notice that her heart leapt a little at the thought that it was she who had made you so happy.

Again, she would never tell anyone, but the only reason she had agreed to accompany Wanda was because of the conversation she had overheard, when you told Nicholas that you didn't have money for two trips.

At first, it had been easy to lie to herself, saying that she was simply killing two birds with one stone: Wanda could have her field trip and you could visit Salem at no expense, that way you could save up to go elsewhere in summer.

However, when Wanda asked why she had specifically chosen your class, she hadn't known what to answer. She wanted to see you happy, she felt you deserved everything in the world, but she couldn't say that to the redhead, so she had given a bad excuse that your group was the least problematic. Wanda hadn't believed it, but at least she had the decency not to comment on anything.

She told herself that she had to be more careful. She couldn’t let anyone, student or teacher, find out that perhaps it was no longer simple affection what she felt for you.

When she walked into your classroom, however, she couldn't help staring at you from the get-go. She didn't want to miss your reaction to the news. From the sparkle in your eyes, the way the corner of your mouth lifted, how your nose wrinkled, the way your shoulders tensed, and how you clenched your hands to avoid showing your emotion.

She wanted to see all of that.

But that had made her look at you the whole time. She never once had she taken her eyes off you, almost forgetting that it was supposed to be a school trip, for all of her students, not a surprise gift specifically for you.

Even if that's what it really was. As she had told Wanda, she was more than capable of teaching Salem's history without having to take you there, but she did it for you. And a small part of her wanted to tell you, she wanted you to know what she had done, she wanted you to understand how much you meant to her, without having to use her words.

She wasn't sure if she'd made it, but your excitement was enough for her. She just wished she could be the one receiving that crushing hug, instead of Nicholas.

"Earth to Agatha" said a voice behind her, making her jump

"Maximoff" she sighed "No one told you it's rude to approach people like this" she crossed her arms and frowned.

"In my defense, I've been here for about 15 minutes, it's not my fault that you get lost in your thoughts so quickly" the redhead teased as she handed her a coffee "It must be age"

"I'm going to ignore the fact that you called me old, just because of the coffee" the brunette growled, taking it.

"Lucky me" the youngest smiled "So, ready for the trip?" she asked

"There's still a whole month to go, cutie" she said

"Don't even remind me, I was hoping they'd let us go sooner" sighed the redhead.

"Wanda, I know they are university students, but not all of them have the income, no matter how little the school charges them. We have to pay for transportation, meals and hotel, not to mention that many of them will want to buy souvenirs or do another activities" Agatha reminded her

"It's a field trip, Aggs, not a vacation."

"Try to convince 30 students of that" scoffed the older woman

"... fair enough" sighed Wanda "and we still need another chaperone"

"What do you mean?" Agatha frowned "Isn't that why I'm going?"

"Yes, but as we also take male students, by law we must bring a male teacher too"

"That’s bullshit"

"I know, but I'm not going to complain and risk losing my permit."

The brunette thought about it for a moment before sighing. Wanda was right. And she wouldn't risk having the trip canceled either, not after seeing how happy it made you.

___________

It was the longest month of your life! You were too excited, you could hardly think of anything other than the trip. You had worried a bit that it was too expensive, but were pleasantly surprised when you realized that it was less than half of what the trip would cost you alone.

Besides, Nick had told you that he could lend you money if necessary. It wasn't that you were broke, far from it, but being a college student, living alone in a rental department and with a part-time job, was difficult.

However, you had managed to save enough money to pay for the trip and still be able to even spend a little on souvenirs or other things, which would be necessary to thank your boss for giving you permission to be absent for two weeks and your friend Alisha for covering you.

"Hello" you smiled at the secretary

"Good afternoon" she replied, a little serious but at least she smiled back at you "can I help you miss?"

"Yeah, uhm, I'm here to pay for the trip to Salem, group 203" you said

"One moment please" she nodded and pulled out a couple of lists "Your name, queen?" she asked kindly

"Y/N  Y/L/N"

The woman scanned the names with her eyes, searching for the letter of your last name, but you felt your stomach drop a little when she frowned before looking at you.

"Are you sure, dear?" she asked

You blinked in surprise before nodding.

"How strange" she said "it appears that it is already paid"

"W-what?" now you frowned "It must be a mistake"

"No, Y/N  Y/L/N, paid. Are you sure you didn't forget? It usually happens" she assured you, smiling at you.

But you knew that was not the case. You hadn't paid before because you didn't have the money. Damn, you were sure you were the last to pay! You were supposed to leave in three days!

"No" you said softly "I'm sure I didn't pay for it"

The woman was about to say something when you heard a rather familiar pair of heels coming up behind you. You didn't even have to turn around to find out who she was.

Agatha smiled as she stood right next to you, her hand pressed to your lower back. She smiled at the secretary before speaking.

"Good afternoon, Lu" she said to the woman

"Good afternoon, Ms Harkness"

"Is something wrong? Or why the long face, Miss Y/L/N?" she asked, smiling at you

It took you a moment to answer, too stunned by the warm touch of her hand on your back and the smell of her perfume filling your air.

"Someone paid for my trip" you said simply

"Excuse me?" she asked confused

"Someone paid for my trip" you repeated "it wasn't me, miss"

"Well, I still don't see the problem" she smiled at you "maybe that little friend of yours paid for you, or someone is trying to win your heart" she winked

The way she said the last part sent a chill down your spine. It felt too intimate for some reason.

"Either way, I wouldn't worry about it" she said, pulling you out of your thoughts "take advantage of it, Miss Y/L/N, not all of us are lucky enough to be given a free trip, right Lu?"

"Absolutely Ms Harkness"

You weren't so convinced, but you weren't in a position to argue with a teacher and a secretary, they were two against one. That and the hand on your back was too much of a distraction to think properly.

You nodded and thanked them before turning on your heel to go find Nick, hoping it was really him who paid for you. You immediately missed the warmth of the hand on your back.

____________

Well shit.

You cursed yourself while running around your apartment. You were sure you had set the alarm, but it hadn't gone on. If it weren't for the fact that you had left the window open and the sun hit you in the face, you wouldn’t have woken up.

When you looked at the clock on your desk, you jumped up. You noticed that your phone had not charged at all and was, in fact, turned off. Double shit.

You tossed it along with the charger in your backpack, after getting out of a quick shower and bouncing around the room as you put on your floral dress and a pair of tennis shoes. You did not care about the mess you left, you would fix it when you returned.

You had 20 minutes to get to school or you were saying goodbye to Salem.

_____________

Agatha tried to appear neutral as Wanda took roll and Jimmy helped the students put their bags onto the bus as they arrived.

She supposed it could have been worse. Of all the male teachers in the school, Jimmy Woo, the chemistry teacher, was the most educated and one of the few that Agatha actually liked a little. At least the students listened to him.

Not that she was really paying attention to that, if she was honest.

Actually, the only thing on her mind was you. Nothing new, but this was different. You hadn't arrived yet and they were 15 minutes away from leaving. She was beginning to worry.

She didn't understand what was happening, you were the most excited about the trip, she had paid for you, and yet you weren't here? She had thought you would be the first to arrive. Have you regretted it? No, you would have told her or Wanda. Something happened to you? Surely Nicholas would have said something when he arrived.

So why was there no sign of your precious face? The brunette could convince Wanda to wait for you a little longer, but she wasn't even sure you were going to come. That made her sulk quickly.

She had agreed to take this trip, for you. If you didn't show up, she would have done everything in vain! She didn't even want to go to Salem to babysit! So you had better arrive in the next 10 minutes or you would be in serious trouble when they come back in two weeks.

"Smile Harkness" Wanda laughed, seeing her partner with her arms crossed and a frown "We're almost gone"

"Good, because we still have five hours of travel and I'm already starting to get tired of the voices of these children" she growled.

She really did hope her concern wasn't so noticeable.

____________

You sighed in relief when the taxi finally arrived at the school, seeing that the bus was still there. You did it!

You walked quickly, smiling at Professor Woo, who kindly put your suitcase on the underside of the truck.

"We were waiting for you, miss Y/L/N" he said kindly, helping you up the steps.

"Oh no, am I the last one?" you asked, blushing with shame.

"That's right" said Professor Maximoff, smiling at you as you went upstairs.

Well, at least no one had noticed. The rest of your classmates were all talking to each other, laughing and some flirting, not paying attention to the fact that you had just arrived. Excellent.

Except ... oh no.

You looked for Nick, to go sit with him. Sadly, it looks like Dalton was ahead of you and your best friend was too busy flirting to have saved you a spot.

"Take a seat please Y/N" Wanda told you

"Uhm ... where?" you asked, pointing to your companions.

The red-haired woman followed your gaze and realized that you were right. All the seats were taken. That made her frown. They were supposed to have all seats counted, so she, Jimmy, and Agatha had taken the liberty of using two seats each. But it seems they had miscounted.

"Well, I suppose you will have to sit with one of us" she told you.

You nodded, but didn't move, not knowing exactly which of the three to sit next to.

Fortunately for you, you didn't have to make the decision.

Agatha had kept a sigh of relief from escaping her lips when she saw you and Jimmy getting on the bus. She had been biting her nails nervously.

Your choice of clothes had not gone unnoticed and she, taking care that neither Wanda nor Jimmy caught her, let her eyes roam your body. The dress fit too well on you, hugging all the right parts, and ended just above the knees, allowing her to observe your beautiful legs.

She was so busy scanning you with her gaze that she almost missed Wanda's comment. "I suppose you will have to sit down with one of us." Her reaction was almost automatic.

She got up and motioned for you to sit in the window seat. "Take a seat, miss Y/L/N" she said, a little anxious, but with a frown so that the others would think that she was simply desperate to leave.

You blinked before nodding and scooting into the seat. You tried not to show any emotion when the older woman sat next to you and her thigh brushed yours.

You didn't know if you wanted to curse Nick for abandoning you in favor of flirting, or if you wanted to kiss him. You had five hours to think about it from here to Salem.

Wait. Five hours. Five hours trapped between Agatha Harkness and the window and without the possibility of distracting yourself with your cell phone. Oh shit.

___________

"It's not as bad as I thought" said Wanda "You were right Aggs, it's the least troublesome group" she laughed

The older woman rolled her eyes without answering. Her friend was right, most of the students were behaving quite well. There was no excessive yelling, no one was getting up from their seats or causing trouble, everyone seemed more interested in catching up on gossip.

But that didn't mean she liked being there. Her head was already spinning and there were still another three hours to go. The only good thing she had was that you were next to her.

Sure, she had to act nonchalant with you, just trying to get you talking a few times (which didn't work, but at least you had smiled at her and that was enough for her), but she couldn't help stealing glances from you every now and then.

She had given you the place by the window with the excuse that she needed to be in the hallway so she could throw death glares at others and make sure everything was in order, but the truth was, she just wanted you to be able to see everything. So that you don't miss even the entrance to the town.

It had worked for a while, because you looked quite entertained. Until that moment.

When the brunette looked at you sideways, she could see that your eyelids seemed to weigh and how you were starting to nod. Agatha had to admit that a sleepy Y/N was probably the cutest thing she had seen in a long time.

You struggled to stay awake, but after two hours of staring out the window (you were definitely not looking at your teacher through the reflection, thank you very much) your eyes felt tired. Maybe, you could sleep for a while, and hopefully when you woke up, you would be arriving in Salem and you wouldn't have to deal with the blush on your cheeks caused by the mere presence of your crush by your side.

It seemed like a good plan.

Sighing and careful not to kick the older woman, you settled into the seat better, closing your eyes and blocking out the noise around you. It didn't take you long to fall asleep.

Agatha knew the exact moment you had been lost from the world of the living, when your head began to tilt a little. She inwardly cursed you for being so cute.

However, she froze when she realized that little by little, you were sticking closer to her.

At first it was just your head leaning in her direction, but then you were leaning on her shoulder. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling (actually, it was perfect), but it did make her pulse race, especially when you kept falling more and more on her, until you ended up with your head on her chest and basically using her breasts as a pillow.

"Ok, okay, don't panic, everything is fine" she thought "act normal, you are a teacher taking care of her student, nothing to see here"

But she could feel her heart racing at a thousand kilometers per hour and as much as she didn't want to wake you up, she doubted you couldn't hear it, you had your hearing just above it!

She was too busy trying not to move, not to bother you, that she didn't notice the knowing looks and smiles that her two colleagues shared.

When Wanda stood up to supervise the students in the background, she raised an eyebrow, smirking at Agatha. The older woman rolled her eyes and mumbled something about not wanting to wake you up out of mere politeness, but the truth was that her arms burned with the need to hold you and pull you closer to her.

____________

Wanda giggled and motioned for Jimmy to take a look at Agatha's seat. When the man did, he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

At some point during the trip, the brunette had fallen asleep too, probably bored of not moving so as not to wake you up. However, it seemed like her precautions weren't working on autopilot, because the moment she fell asleep, she leaned on you, portraying a cute scene with you on the older woman's chest and Agatha's head on top of yours.

Wanda took out her cell phone and quickly took a photo of you two.

"This is gold" she whispered to Jimmy "this is valuable blackmail material, Harkness will have to do what I ask for at least a month"

"I guess I owe you 10 dollars" said the man.

When they were discussing the details of the trip, the redhead had told him her theory about how the brunette felt about you. Surprisingly, Jimmy hadn't been shocked, he didn't think the other woman had a crush on her student, but he wouldn't look down on Agatha if that was the case. They had both gambled on how long it would take for the woman to start being more obvious.

"And a coffee when we get to Salem" Wanda reminded him.

_____________

Agatha woke up when a particularly loud sound from the movie they were playing in the bus sounded from the speaker above her head. The woman blinked several times, before looking around her.

Jimmy seemed absorbed in the movie and Wanda was asleep. And God knew what the students were doing behind her.

But that was not the important thing. What mattered was the bulge in her arms.

Your hair had fallen over your face, so the older woman gently brushed it away, letting her fingers brush against your skin. You were a beautiful sight. You always were, sure, but just like that, asleep and vulnerable, you were just breathtaking.

Looking at the clock, Agatha knew that they were about to arrive in town, and although she didn't want to wake you up, really enjoying having you like this, she also wanted you to see everything. So she gently started shaking you to wake you up.

You groaned a bit at the annoyance, but in a few more moments your eyes began to open. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light, but when they did, you frowned.

Why were you so low? You remembered falling asleep almost glued to the window, so why weren't you there? And why did you have a pillow? You hadn't brought a pillow with you.

It wasn't until you caught a familiar scent that you realized you weren't on a pillow. You were on top of your teacher. More specifically, on her chest. Shit.

You got up quickly, muttering an apology and trying desperately not to look at her. You just used Agatha Harkness as a pillow! What an idiot! She sure hates you now.

The older woman was a bit surprised when you jumped up, almost hitting her in the process. If it wasn't because you looked adorable with a red face, she would have tried to comfort you. Besides, she couldn't risk any of her colleagues finding out about her feelings for you.

So she didn't say anything, as if nothing had happened. But she was loving the nervous version of you more and more.

_______________

When you entered the city, you completely forgot the whole incident. Your mind quickly entertained with the landscape and you could see how all those witch tales came to life in front of your eyes. Definitely better than Disneyland.

Agatha couldn't help the pang of pride she felt when she saw your excited face. It was a good choice to sit you by the window. If anyone deserved to have the best possible experience in Salem, it was you.

She just hoped the rest of the trip would go without incidents. Not that she thought falling asleep on her was a bad thing, it was just that she trusted herself less and less to keep herself under control.

- - - - - - - - - - -

tags: @midnight-lestrange @everythingmarvelsherlockspn (tag not working) @amethyst-bitch @juliejules-089 @powerfulmagicalgirl (tag not working) @novohyde @annie-mit-ie​ @agentbrownierso​

[oilux]

Nobara really, really doesn't understand Megumi.

If she had the most powerful cursed spirit wrapped around her finger, she'd know what to do with him.

Megumi doesn't even seem to realize how much Sukuna simps over him.

Yuuji sits across from them, Nobara's legs thrown in his lap, while Megumi sits on the floor before them. They all make a strange pile for their regular Friday night movie.

"I'm telling you," Megumi says, insistent, "he doesn't care about me."

Nobara rolls her eyes. Really, these boys, they'd be lost without her.

"Dude he never shuts up about you," Yuuji argues right back.

Nobara really has to do everything around here.

"Hey, Megumi," she drawls, looking up from painting Yuuji's nails. The bright pink color works for him, it matches his hair.

"If I can prove Sukuna simps over you, will you buy me that dress I saw today?"

It was almost four hundred thousand yen, and she wants it for her date with Maki tomorrow.

Megumi contemplates for a moment, but then he nods, confident Nobara won't be able to prove it.

But Nobara's never been a woman who's never been wrong before, and she's not about to start today.

She caps the nail polish, and reaches out to Megumi. He comes to her as he always has before, with trust.

It makes it all the easier for him to grab his ear and twist. Reflexively, tears bead in the corners of his eyes and he bats at her hand, pulling away from Nobara with an angry pout.

Nobara quickly moves her legs from Yuuji's lap before Sukuna can chop them off.

Sukuna cups Megumi's face in his hands, wiping away tears from his eyes, seemingly oblivious to the stunned look on Megumi's face.

"Are you alright, little one?" Sukuna asks, moving Megumi's face to look at his ear.

Nobara was sure not to leave a mark, but the skin is red.

Sukuna heals it with barely a brush of his thumb.

Megumi stutters for a moment, cheeks pink. "I-I'm fine, she's just messing with me."

Nobara holds her hands up in defense, shaking the pink bottle of nail polish in her hands. She'll have to finish Yuuji's nails another day.

Sukuna doesn't even glance back at her, four eyes all focused on Megumi. "The only one you should be shedding tears for is /me/, Fushiguro Megumi. No one else."

Ew, Nobara thinks. She really should have expected this, but it's still kind of gross.

Her boys would be so helpless without her. She stretches as she gets up from the couch, ignoring the pair on the floor, still intimately close.

"I want that dress tomorrow for my date, Megumi!" Nobara calls as she leaves, slamming the door behind her.

The next day, she finds her new dress in her room. It fits perfectly, so at least Megumi was paying attention when she said her size.

Since it's perfect, she ignores the hickey on Megumi's neck.

Really, they're hopeless.

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part VII (x reader)

Summary: Reader tries to make things right, with a little push from her mama.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: none

a/n: I know, I know— please just let our babies be happy ♥️ and so it was. Also, big ups to my tumblr gf @idmakeitbehave​ for being my beta the past two chapters.

Series Masterlist

———

One week.

That’s how long it had been since their argument. Spencer had driven back to his apartment in silence, absolutely stunned by the way things had blown up.

They’d gotten back from the case in Utah on the fifth of January, and he’d driven straight to Y/N’s, ready to give her a belated New Year’s kiss. Immediately upon entering her apartment, he knew something was wrong. Her hug was stiff, her kiss brief, her eye contact minimal. He’d spent the night, but they barely touched, and she left early for work without waking him. He’d let himself out and texted her later in the day to invite her over for dinner.

Dinner hadn’t been any less awkward, and when he felt awkward, he knew it was bad. He finally couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he’d called it out. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn’t expected that. Y/N never spoke to him with any malice at all, even when he was actually doing something that irritated her. She was the queen of healthy communication. So for her to speak to him like that meant that the underlying issue was much, much worse than he’d originally thought.

He’d gone over their conversations a thousand times, looking desperately for the moment that it went wrong. After some deep consideration, he was certain that something had happened on New Year’s Eve. He just wasn’t sure what. Y/N was insistent that she wasn’t bothered by the declined call, but he still wished he could go back in time and answer it. He was pretty sure the seeds of their argument had sprouted in that moment, regardless of what she said.

Spencer knew she was a creature of habit, and that sometimes she needed space to process and experience her emotions. And if he was being honest, he needed some space after the argument, too. But usually she would have at least texted him by now.

He sighed and set down his newspaper, realizing he’d read the same page four times and hadn’t retained any of it. It was Friday, and he knew she was working. But still his fingers itched to dial her number. He picked up the phone, pressing a key to light up the screen yet again.

No new messages.

He dropped the phone back to the table with a little more force than was necessary. He decided he’d give her the rest of the weekend. If he didn’t hear from her by Sunday, he’d have to do something.

…

Y/N dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and turned to lock the deadbolt. She had managed to sneak out of the building without being stopped by Anita, and she thanked the universe for small miracles.

She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She didn’t want anyone to know what an absolute troll she’d been. Considering that Sam and Spencer had practically become attached at the hip since they’d started hanging out more, Anita was bound to ask about him.

She showered and ordered Thai food, snuggling down on the couch to watch a movie with Roald. She settled on Dumplin’— a favorite for the body positivity, the southern drawls, and the Dolly Parton drag.

And then she came to the argument outside of Harpy’s and lost what little emotional stability she had left.

“Never took you for the type that cares much what people think.”

“I can’t, Bo. And that might make me a coward, but—”

“It does. Willowdean Dixon, I think you’re beautiful. To hell with anyone who’s ever made you feel less than that.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Roald meowed in distress. She choked out a sob and stroked over his ears, closing her eyes in defeat. “I really fucked this up, huh?”

It had only been one week, but it felt like years since Spencer walked out of her apartment. She’d stayed in bed for the entire weekend, crying on and off. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Owen had knocked over the first domino, but she’d done nothing to stop the rest from falling.

Spencer had done everything right. He’d done everything she asked, and she’d thrown it all back in his face. He had made the comparison to Mitchell Park, and he was absolutely right. She’d done the exact same thing, only she had almost a year’s worth of ammunition, and she cut a hell of a lot deeper.

Roald nuzzled against her, but she nudged him away— she didn’t even deserve the comfort. Instead, she fumbled in the couch cushions for her phone, swiping open the screen and tapping her favorites list, thumb hovering over Spencer’s name. Then she tapped on the name right above it and blew out a breath.

The line connected and rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, sugar! Your ears must be ringin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you.”

“Hey, mama,” Y/N breathed.

Her mother’s tone changed from chipper to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She leaned forward to the coffee table to grab Spencer’s scarf— somehow left behind in her apartment— rubbing it between her fingers. “I— I really messed up.”

“Oh, Lord. You need bail money?”

Despite herself, Y/N laughed wetly. “Oh my god , mama. No, I don’t need bail money.”

“Well, if you made bail it can’t be that bad,” Rose insisted.

“I didn’t— I’m not in jail, for Christ’s sake.” Y/N ran a hand over her face. “I messed things up with Spencer.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Rose responded matter of factly. “What happened?”

“We were fighting, and I said some really, really awful things,” Y/N admitted, tears spilling over her lash line.

Rose scoffed. “Honey, I say awful things to your father all the time, and we’ve been married almost 40 years.”

Y/N heaved a long sigh. “Not like this, mama.”

Her mother hummed in consideration. “Well, what were y’all fightin’ about?”

“It’s complicated,” Y/N hedged, toying with the fringe of the scarf.

Rose clicked her tongue. “Do ya want my help or not?”

Y/N dropped her head back against the couch. “I ran into Owen on New Year’s Eve—”

“Well, I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Rose practically growled.

Y/N closed her eyes as the tears tracked hot down her cheeks. “I didn’t. I— I let him get under my skin, and then I didn’t want to tell Spencer about it because it’s embarrassing, but he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop asking about it.” She had to pause and suck in a hiccuping breath, releasing it on a sob. “So I yelled at him and said all kinds of terrible things, and then he left, and now I think maybe we broke up, and I’ve literally never been so sad in my whole life.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and then she heard Rose sniffling. “Really shoulda had your brothers knock the mess out of that son of bitch when we had the chance. He's been gone five years, and he’s still hurtin’ you every chance he gets.”

Y/N swiped uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks, sniffling pathetically. “And now I hurt the person who’s spent the last year singlehandedly undoing all of his awful handiwork.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose cooed. Y/N could hear the creak of the floorboards as her mother walked through her childhood home. “You said he knew somethin’ was wrong, right? I can almost guarantee that he’s still just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on. I know he’s supposed to be a genius, but he’s still a man. And men are dumb, sugar. You gotta spell it out for ‘em. Have you talked to him since?”

“No.” Fresh tears spilled over Y/N’s lashes as the thoughts that had kept her from calling him spilled out of her mouth. “What if it was too far? What if I ruined everything? What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

Ross heaved out a long breath. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Y/N.”

“What if I’m right?” she whispered.

“And what if you’re not?” Rose countered. “That boy loves you. Anyone could see that, clear as day. He’d do just about anything for you.” Rose paused, and Y/N heard the springs of the bed squeak as she sat. “But you gotta let him, sweetheart. Right now you’re takin’ away his chance to do that. You’re makin’ the decision for him.”

Y/N listened as her mother’s advice crackled over the line, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

“If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, you need to let him tell you that. Don’t settle for a what if. Find out for sure, or you're gonna spend the rest of your life worryin’ and wonderin’, sugar.”

…

That evening found Spencer in his usual spot on the couch, reclined against the arm with a book in hand. He’d promised himself he’d give Y/N the weekend to herself— that he’d let her come to him. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone obsessively; it never buzzed with any new calls or messages, but he still looked every seven minutes.

The sound of the buzzer jolted his body to attention. He checked his watch and drew his brows together before closing his book and scrambling to cross to the intercom, a tiny seed of hope beginning to germinate. He pressed the button to talk, calling, “Yes?” into the speaker box and then listening for the response.

“Hi.”

Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the crackle of the speaker. He buzzed her in without hesitation, crossing to the door and opening it immediately. She made her way slowly up the stairs, turning at the top of the landing and pausing.

His heart broke at the sight of her. She looked utterly exhausted, dressed in black sweatpants and a soft purple sweater, a black puffer jacket over top. She was holding his scarf, wringing it in between her hands. Her eyes were ringed red, and the bags under them were worse than his.

He watched as she crossed the landing, coming to stand quietly in front of him. He’d known something was wrong, but the way she looked now made him wonder just how long she’d been battling whatever private demons she wouldn’t let him in on.

“I, um.” She cleared her throat, and it was clear she’d been crying from the thickness of her voice. “I have a lot to say— again. But since I was such an asshole, I wanted to give you the opportunity to say anything you need to say first.”

He’d imagined this conversation countless times over the last week, and never once had he thought it would start like this. “Um. Well. You— you really hurt me.”

She could barely look at him. “I know.”

He swallowed. “Please don’t do that again.”

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

Spencer tucked his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. “I know I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m a pretty good profiler. And I can tell when something’s wrong.” He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m just asking you to tell me when I do something that makes you upset.”

“You— you didn’t do anything wrong. I—” He watched her squeeze her eyes shut. “God, I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’m just— I’m sorry for so many things. For lying about being fine, for being up on my high horse about communicating and then not actually doing it, for being an absolute bitch.”

He wanted to argue— she wasn’t a bitch— but he could tell she was far from done.

“I— I thought therapy was supposed to teach me how to talk about things, but this still feels… impossible to say out loud,” she admitted, fingers fumbling with the fabric of the scarf. “It’s embarrassing and ridiculous. But I— I have deep-seated insecurities. That I’m not really that smart or interesting or particularly special.”

He thought back to that night in Mitchell Park and felt the guilt all over again. He’d practically said those exact words to her— it was no wonder she was feeling this way.

“And every person that I’ve ever been with has— really reinforced those ideas, so for a long time they were just… a set part of my self-image,” she explained, dragging a hand over her messy hair. “I thought— I thought that I was over it, but I— I don’t know. Maybe you never really are.”

His brain sorted through every moment of their year together, pinging off the countless examples of her self-doubt and insecurity. She was easily the most wonderful person he knew, but he could clearly see the cracks in the facade if he looked close enough. How had he missed it for so long?

“And then I met you, and you…” Y/N let out a wry laugh. “You’re easily the most interesting person I’ve ever met, but you made me feel like… I don’t know, like I’m interesting, too. Like I’m worthy of being with you, like I’m— like I’m good enough.”

He felt his heart splintering into a thousand tiny shards— good enough?

“But I can’t— I still have a hard time believing it sometimes. And I— I’ve been letting myself keep you at arms length. Letting you see parts of me, but… never giving you everything,” she admitted.

He watched her struggle to get the words out, her voice thick with the act of holding back sobs. He hadn’t realized she was carrying all of this. She was so good at supporting him and loving him through all of his trauma and issues, he hadn’t stopped to consider just how much she needed him, too.

She continued, “It’s why I took so long to say I love you… why I couldn’t talk to you last week. Because I just—” She shrugged as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize that I’m really nothing special. That you’re getting bored, or there’s someone who’s a better fit for you, or one million other things. That I’m needy, and annoying, and too much work.”

A fresh tear tracked down her cheek, and he felt his own eyes filling. She never failed to put a stop to his own insecurities— reminding him that she liked his rambling, that he wasn’t irritating, that he was just the right amount. In his eyes, she was perfect. He would have never guessed she felt this way about herself.

She continued, “That’s what happened before, and none of those guys were even half as wonderful as you are.” She swiped a hand haphazardly over her cheeks, looking at him sheepishly. “And then I was hurtful and awful, and I realized that I was just creating a self fulfilling prophecy and I don’t— I don’t want to do that.”

Her hand shook a little as she brought it back down to twist in his scarf. “Because it’s never— I’ve never felt like this. I've never been this happy with anyone else, and I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to give you up. Even if sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Her voice cracked on a stifled cry, and his chest physically ached. “And if you never want to see me again, I completely understand, and I’ll leave you alone, but I— I’m just so sorry. And I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard to be better.” She sucked in a ragged breath and let it out on an exhausted sigh. “And that’s, um— that’s it. If you want me to go, I—”

“I don’t want you to go,” he interrupted.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Spencer stepped forward and reached for her. “Of course not. C’mere.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she was tumbling into his arms with a choked off sob. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind them, walking her to the couch and sitting them both down. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear into thin air.

“Y/N, I’m right here,” he assured her. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But if you n-need space, I understand,” she sobbed.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need space. I think a week was long enough, don’t you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair.

She pulled back out of the hug, head down. “But I really hurt you.”

He held her hand. “Yeah. And I really hurt you, too.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s not how this works. I don’t get to hurt you just because you hurt me.”

“I know that.” He almost laughed at how indignant she sounded. “I’m not saying that we should hurt each other. I’m saying that sometimes it happens. And when it does, we apologize, and we forgive, and we move forward. And it’s okay if you need space. But I don’t.”

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered.

“Then I promise I’ll tell you.” Spencer tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you what I need, as long as you tell me, too. We’ve gotta use all those communication skills we learn in therapy.”

Y/N nodded, and he pulled her into another hug. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “If I hadn’t heard from you by Sunday, I was planning to bother you until you talked to me.”

He could feel the beginning of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth where it was pressed to his shoulder. “You never bother me,” she mumbled. She held him for a moment longer and then released him from the hug and sat back, fidgeting with her hands and letting out a breath.

“Sometimes I need to be told that my worst fears about myself aren’t true,” she admitted. “I know that’s so annoying, but—”

“It’s not annoying,” he interrupted, putting an immediate stop to that line of thought. “Telling you how amazing you are isn’t the chore that you think it is. I’m sorry that anyone ever convinced you that it was.”

He covered her hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs softly along her skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about her dealing with all of this by herself. He hated that she’d ever felt anything less than adored. More than anything, he hated that he hadn’t been able to help her through it. And he wanted to make sure that he never made that mistake again.

“A wise man told me once... that love is helping someone navigate their storms,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. She looked at him then, and he continued, “You’ve been my lighthouse for a long time, Y/N. And I— I’m trying desperately to be yours… But you have to let me.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she nodded. He let out a long breath and pulled her hands into his lap. “I understand that sometimes you need space, and that’s fine. I’m happy to give you whatever you need.”

He shook his head. “Just— please don’t try to weather the storm by yourself. You can’t do it all alone; no one can.” He smiled ruefully. “I can tell you from experience that’s pretty much a guaranteed way to capsize your boat.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he felt a tear slip over his lash line. “I’ll help you repair your boat, or build a new one, or you can just float on mine for a while. It’s not perfect but it’s pretty sturdy, I think.”

She brought her fingers up to brush at his damp cheeks, and he met her eyes. “What I’m not going to do is let you float out on the ocean by yourself. I love you too much.”

She was quiet for a long moment, sniffling a little and just watching him— almost like she couldn’t believe he was there. She brought her hand back to his and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along his skin. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He gave her a small smile and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. “Want some tea?”

She was frowning when he pulled back, her brows drawn together. “I need to tell you about Owen.”

The conversation he’d had with Anita was suddenly on replay in Spencer’s head.

… a real piece of shit… telling her lies about herself… isolating her… destroying her from the inside out...

He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head. “Talking about him takes away his power. I have to stop letting him have so much sway over my emotions.” She looked at him then. “I do things I regret and hurt people I love.”

He brought their joined hands up his lips. “Well, I’m here either way. And I’m still going to make you some tea.”

He stood and pulled her up with him, bringing her into the kitchen and refusing to let go of her hand. He filled the kettle and turned it on, found a bag of her favorite tea and ripped it open with his teeth. He dropped the bag into her favorite mug, and then made a mug up for himself.

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you’d let go,” she said, the hint of a smile in her voice.

“Mhm,” he agreed, but he made no move to release her hand. In fact, once he’d fumbled a spoonful of honey into each of the cups, he dropped the spoon into her mug and turned to pull her into another hug. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and closed his eyes as she brought her arms around his waist. “I missed you,” he whispered.

She squeezed him tight. “I missed you, too. I’m so sorry.”

She buried her face in his neck, and he felt her breathe him in. He pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then settled his chin again. “Apology accepted, in case it wasn’t clear.”

They stood like that until the kettle began to whistle, and then Spencer kept her tucked underneath his arm as he turned to shut it off and pour the water into the mugs. They each grabbed a mug, making their way back to the couch and setting them on the coffee table to steep. Spencer kept their fingers intertwined and stayed quiet, letting her set the pace of the conversation.

Y/N took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I guess I should start at the beginning. I, um— I had my first boyfriend in high-school: Cal Cunningham. He was older and cooler, and so I felt— I don’t know… special when he picked me.” She rolled her eyes. “In reality, he was rude, and arrogant, and kind of a misogynist. We didn’t date for very long, but it kind of… set me up on this path of dating guys who weren’t very nice.”

Spencer ran his thumb soothingly along hers, waiting for her to continue. “When I started college, I dated this guy Adam for a few months. He was nice enough but really self-centered and a little immature. When we broke up I just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“I was single for two years after that, just kind of… finding myself and whatever.” Her eyes tracked the path his thumb traced along her skin. “So when I started dating Owen at the end of junior year, it felt like my first real relationship. Like— we were both adults, and he dressed up for our dates, and he paid for things and bought me flowers and fit all the cliches.”

“And it was great at first,” she admitted. “We had a lot of the same friends, so we’d been hanging out for a while before we got together. He was a perfect gentleman— and smart, accomplished, and ambitious. I fell fast, and I fell hard, and we were sort of— it feels so stupid to say this, but it felt like we were an it couple.”

“A few of us made plans to move to DC after graduation— my friend Jess and her boyfriend Chris, Sam and Anita,” she explained. “And Owen and I, obviously. We moved in together in an apartment downtown. And that’s when everything changed.”

She drew her brows together. “It was little things at first. Like he’d jokingly call me stupid for forgetting something, or he’d complain about one of my friends being annoying. But it snowballed pretty quickly. He’d tell me I was stupid, and he wasn’t joking. All of my friends irritated him to the point where we couldn’t hang out anymore— even our former mutual friends. He thought that teaching kindergarten was a mindless, pointless job.”

Spencer tried to keep his heart rate steady, his facial expressions neutral, but his blood pressure was on the rise. No one deserved to be spoken to like that, least of all Y/N.

She continued, “We spent the holidays at my parents’ the second year we were dating, and he spent the entire car ride home explaining, in detail, how ridiculous and low-class he thought everything was.”

She shook her head and rubbed her free hand over her face. “I know it’s insane that I stayed with him for five years, but I— he did a really good job of convincing me that I was... that I was nothing. That he was doing me a favor by loving me. That he could have anyone, but he chose me. No one else was going to, so I should be grateful.”

He balled his free hand into a fist to avoid squeezing her to death. When Anita had said Owen was a piece of shit… he hadn’t realized just how deeply she meant it.

She picked at the fabric of her sweatpants, staring intently at the tiny pills. “When someone says all of that to you on a daily basis, and you’re not hearing otherwise from anyone else— because no one knew what was going on— when someone tells you you’re nothing… you start to believe it.”

Spencer relaxed his fist to bring his fingers up to her face, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a long moment. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a voiceless assurance that she was, in fact, everything. He felt her relax under the warm pressure of his lips, and he hoped that was enough for now.

He sat back to let her continue. “We were together for five years, and we only broke up because he cheated on me. It was a long term affair; they were sleeping together for almost a year before I found out. And… a lot of people knew. Almost all of his friends knew. But I didn’t. I was still being this ridiculous, desperate little Suzy Homemaker trying to make him happy, even though he was still treating me like shit.”

She laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “When I found out, I wasn’t even hurt. I was… embarrassed, I guess. But I was so relieved. I was so fucking relieved that I had a way out.”

He watched as her shoulders settled, almost like an actual weight had been lifted off of them. “I got a therapist and dropped all of the friends that were still hanging around with him. I moved to a new neighborhood, started hanging out with Anita and Sam, and just— started fresh. And I was doing really well. I’ve had my moments of insecurity here and there, but for the most part, I’ve been able to recognize the moments when I’m falling back into old thought patterns.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were so soft and lovely that his heart ached. “You’re a big reason for that. You’re so open with how you feel about me, and… it makes things a lot easier.” She dropped her gaze with a sigh. “But I— he was at the party on New Year's. And I didn’t know he was going to be there until I was already there , and then it felt stupid to leave. I thought I could handle it—”

“And then I didn’t answer your call.”

“No, no .” She shook her head and reached her free hand out to grasp his arm. “That’s— Spencer, none of this is your fault.” She furrowed her brow, and the crease between them was practically an abyss. “He sort of— cornered me on the patio. I hadn’t seen him in like, four years? And he was complimenting me, and asking about you, and then he tried to— well, he did kiss me actually. I shoved him off, and he didn’t like that, and he did his whole Owen thing. Told me that he’d cheated because I was uninteresting and worthless. That eventually you’d get bored of me, too. Just, um— generally awful shit.”

She took a deep breath, and the rest steamrolled off her tongue and over his heart. “And then he just— left . And he’d absolutely demolished my self-image in less than ten minutes, and I was embarrassed and angry at myself, and then you didn’t answer, but I was kind of glad you didn’t because I didn’t actually want to talk about it. And I thought I could just move on, but then I was being weird, and you knew something was wrong. And I just wanted to pretend like it never happened, but then you kept pressing me on it, and I just— I didn’t want to have to explain it all to you because I was afraid that— that maybe he was right.”

Y/N dissolved back into the couch, an unwelcome indication of the emotional exhaustion that came with reliving trauma. Spencer moved closer and mirrored the position of her body against the cushions, bringing his face close enough to bump their noses together. They breathed the same air for one noiseless minute before she finally met his eyes.

“I need you to understand that not one single thing he said to you— on New Year’s or ever— was right, in either sense of the word. None of it was factual, and none of it was acceptable.”

She gave him a weary nod, and he continued, “You are the single best person that I know. You’re kind, brilliant, and driven. You’re interesting, and wonderful, and lovely. You’re my absolute favorite person on the planet, and I will never get bored of you.”

He let his eyes trace over all the angles and curves of her face, and then raised his eyebrows. “He’s lucky that I respect you enough not to go over your head, because what I’d like to do is run a full background check and find any and every possible transgression that could be legally investigated and then use that information to ruin his life.” He tilted his head in thought. “That or— get really jacked and then beat the shit out of him.”

“God, please don’t. As much as I’d love to watch that unfold,” she cupped his face in her hand, “you’re better than that. And he’s not worth either of our energies… I already wasted enough time dwelling on it and hurt you in the process.” She dropped her hand back to her lap with a sigh. “I spent so much time in that relationship that my brain didn’t know what to do with this good, healthy one.”

He took both of her hands in his, squeezing them tight and then pressing a kiss to the back of each. He wouldn’t commit assault, since she’d asked him not to. But he wasn’t going to let Owen taint any part of his life with her.

“I’m so sorry that someone you loved made you think it was hard to love you. Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed his lips together and mused, “But I think maybe love has a learning curve. Especially when you’re used to being hurt. You have to unlearn all the bullshit. People will have you thinking that you have to water yourself down, or change who you are, or make yourself more palatable. I thought that, too.”

He brushed her hair back away from her face and waited for her to meet his eyes. “And then I met you. And you love all of it— all of me. All the rambling, all the quirks, and— even the dark parts, too.”

She sniffled a little, but really smiled for the first time that night. “What’s not to love about you?”

He smiled back. “I’m not sure if you realize that I fully reciprocate that feeling. What’s not to love about you? I have a hard time thinking of even one thing about you that I don’t absolutely adore.”

“Even when I act like a horrid bitch?” she mumbled, only half joking.

He leaned his head against the couch cushion. “A year ago, you stood on my doorstep and gave me forgiveness— after I’d been a complete asshole to you... I told you then that I wanted to learn how to love with you. I still do. In all the wonderful, and the weird, and the terrible. Even when we get it wrong.”

He shrugged, and then ran a soft fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “There is no one else I’d rather get it wrong with. Because when we get it right… it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to magic.”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and she brought both hands up to his face, holding him with an adoration that made his own eyes burn. “You can believe that you love me the most,” she whispered, “but just know that you’re wrong.”

He leaned forward to close the distance between them, pressing a kiss to her lips with a reverence that felt technicolor and devout and more magical than any trick he’d ever mastered.

“Agree to disagree.”

———

Permanent tags: @spacedikut @andiebeaword @averyhotchner @pinkdiamond1016 @shadyladyperfection @coffeeandendlesswords @justanothetfangirl @no-honey-no @ajeff855 @sapphic-prentiss @rexorangecouny @rainsong01  @blameitonthenight21 @moviequeen51 @90spumkin @reniescarlett @ncsls0515 @sturmmhond @takeyourleap-of-faith @saspencereid @calm-and-doctor @reidtheprettyboy @atabigail @ayo-cowbelly @muffin-cup @ssa-natalya-reid @wheelsup @reidingmelodies @this-is-gublerween  @spenxerslut  @reidemandweep @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @luwheezey @joalsglasses @je-suis-prest-rachel @enbyfaerie @spencie-adams @honestimanormalfan @blurryreid  @elldell1204 @babyhoneystvles @lost-in-the-stars03 @reiding-recs @minervaonmars @radtwinkie @crimeshowtrash @dayho3  

Permanent (sfw) tags: @mrs-dr-reid @eevee0722 @goldentournesol @froggybagels

Series tags:  @uhuhuh @itsametaphorbriansblog @magenta145 @annesauriol @watermelonfanfic-recs​ @ampal98 @mggsprettygirl @ceeellewrites @thatsmyfavoritewhiteboy​  @misshale21 @ilzieah @gublersbooblers @outcrbxrafe @andromedasstarship @reidspurplescarfs @hanniebee33 @nazdaniels @irisisonline @nazifa94  @laurnrnlds @outer-spacious @stupidcrazylittlething @princesssmooshie @luvspence @maddievevo @slaytherinthoughts​

Broken tags:  @archer561 (check visibility settings!)

[shiny-jr]

❝ ᴏ ɴ ᴄ ᴇ   ᴜ ᴘ ᴏ ɴ   ᴀ   ᴅ ʀ ᴇ ᴀ ᴍ ❞

➼ 𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕄𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕦𝕤 𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕒

It was a dream.

(Y/n) hummed as they skipped along the brick path. This place was beautiful, a sizable garden surrounded by dark woods. Gentle raindrops trickled down from the gray clouds dotting the sky, but they weren’t heavy enough to block out the setting sun’s orange glow it casted on the earth.

Merrily they jumped in the forming puddles, enjoying this illusion in dreamland. With each hop, water splashed upwards. Not caring if their hair got soaked or their raincoat was covered in droplets, they continued to have fun while singing softly all the while, “I’m singin’ in the rain. Just singin’ in the rain~”

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. 

(Y/n) stopped in their tracks, gaining the feeling of being watched. Looking back, they spotted a figure a few feet behind them. Stopping their fun, they faced the stranger fully with newfound curiosity.

The man blinked, stunning lime green eyes that seemed to glow gazed directly at them. “Hm…?” The stranger had a forbidding appearance, unsmiling and staggeringly tall. From his head were two black curved horns against his jet black hair. His voice slightly deep and he spoke clearly, his words echoing in the empty space around them, “Who are you?”

In the near silence, he could hear their quiet heartbeat. It wasn’t speeding up, it remained at a steady pace. The dripping and flowing water from the fountain sounded, calm and soothing. Right, this was a dream, (Y/n) remembered. There was no real man with horns, this was just a figment of the imagination.

(Y/n) stared back unwaveringly, just as confused as they murmured, “A guy…?” Why would a guy with such a strange feature appear in their dreams?

The man studied them from afar, crossing his arms. His expression remained unchanging, his gaze never leaving their form even as he reached a conclusion. “…You are a child of man.” Still, the question remained, what was a human doing in his dreamland? “How did you get here?” For a moment he appeared a bit irritated that his dreams were ruined by this newcomer. “This is a rare moment when I sleep, and I discover you…”

The young dreamer jumped on the stone edge of a large water fountain, continuing to watch the man from afar. Folding their hands behind their back, they too had many questions. Most importantly, “Who are you?”

For the first time since encountering, the man expressed an emotion: surprise. His eyes widened slightly, silent for a moment before beginning, “Who are… You don’t know who I am? Truly?”

“Should I know who you are?”

A smile crossed his features as he shook his head, “That is… exceedingly rare. Disregard that then. What should I call you?”

“My name is (Y/n).” Offering a smile, they hopped off the water fountain and approached fearlessly. Extending their hand out to him, they continued politely, “It’s nice to meet you,...?”

Astonished that this mere human had the bravery to approach and shake his hand. They really weren’t lying when they said they had no idea who he was. Accepting their hand, he felt their warmth against his cold skin, shaking firmly. “Likewise, what a pleasant encounter… (Y/n)? That’s an unusual name…” When they released their hold on his hand, his arm fell back to his side. The corner of his lips tugged upwards into a smile again, “I’m Mal--... Actually, no. I won’t tell you. Not knowing is for your own benefit. The moment you hear it you’ll feel a frost spread over your skin.”

“Okay… Got it, buddy.” (Y/n) calmly walked back to the water fountain, noticing that the man was following from a distance. “So, if you won’t tell me your name, what the heck am I supposed to call you then?”

“For your ignorance, as an exception, I’ll allow you to call me whatever you like… Though you may come to regret that someday…”

(Y/n) hopped back onto the water fountain, balancing on the edge before facing him again. Able to look him at eye-level now that they stood on this elevated platform. “I’ll think of a nickname eventually. For now I’ll just call you my dream buddy!” Gazing into the blue waters, they stepped in the water fountain. The soles of their rubber boots were submerged, creating small splashes with every hop. They paused once they felt the stare of the young man. Turning to face him, they offered him a hand while inquiring with an eager smile, “Wanna join me, dream buddy?”

“...” He raised an eyebrow before slowly accepting their hand, giving in to that warm smile and child-like twinkle in their eyes. “Very well. I will join you, child of man.”

The two dreamers spent their night together, (Y/n) splashing in the fountain and puddles with hops and jumps, while the mysterious man walked along the water with grace and elegance. After some conversation, he explained that the area they walked in was one he recognized, one from a school of magic he attended. The young human found the man to be strange, but interesting and calming. Even Malleus had to admit, this human he discovered in his dreams had a certain charm to them, they were unafraid of him.

“That’s crazy! There’s no magic in my world. The closest thing we have to magic is electricity and technology, but I’m not sure if that counts.” (Y/n) laughed lightly, entranced when their dream buddy spoke of magic, spells, and potions.

“Is that so?” He hummed, intrigued by their comment. A world without magic, huh?

Beep!

(Y/n) perked up at the familiar beep, scanning the area for the source of the sound. Their vision grew hazy and everything else, even that strange man, sounded distant. Looking up at him, those gleaming green eyes staring down at them.

“(Y/n)? Is something amiss?”

I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.

BEEP!

(Y/n) sat up with a jolt, feeling the loose pajamas on their skin and their bare feet against the warmth of the blanket. Underneath them they felt the familiar softness of their bed. Instinctively their hand reached out, tapping the alarm clock to prevent it from letting out another screeching beep. Yawning as they fell back onto their mattress, left to stare up at the ceiling while muttering,

“What a weird dream…”  

❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂

A few days passed from the night of that dream. That entire day after, they couldn’t help but wonder and look back at it. It felt so real and the scenery was beautiful, and their dream buddy seemed kind. However, after that day, like all dreams, it was forgotten, until nearly a week after.

And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem.

(Y/n) found themself in their dreamland, this time in an environment more familiar to them. A giant park that seemed to stretch forever with the towering skyscrapers of the city over the horizon. Like before, the sun was setting causing the sky to turn dark. Green orbs of light floated in the air, making the space appear magical. Humming as they followed the lights, singing softly as they went along, “A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you’re fast asleep~” Walking along a bridge that arched over water, a skip in their step as they enjoyed the breeze. “In dreams you will lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep~”

“My, what a lovely voice you have.”

The young dreamer stopped, turning around only to see that same mysterious man standing on the other side of the bridge. Brightening up, they smiled as they recognized those lime green eyes and those black horns. “Hey, my dream buddy! Malmal!”

“Malmal? By Malmal are you possibly referring to me…?”

“Yeah, you said I could refer to you however I like. You know, since I never got the full name. Just Mal, so I came up with Malmal, or I can call you Mal, either or.” (Y/n) stopped in front of him, frowning lightly as they inquired, “Would you like a different name or something?”

But if I know you, I know what you’ll do.

A smile appeared on the man’s face, laughing in disbelief, “Pfft… Haha! There aren’t many who refer to me with such nicknames. You really seem to know no fear. It is fine. I am not opposed to it, I quite like it.”

“Great! It’s settled then!”

“This is the second time I’ve encountered you in my dreams, child of man. Why is that?”

(Y/n) shrugged before admitting, “I have no clue. I honestly thought you were just part of my imagination at first, but it’s kinda obvious that’s not the case anymore. Everything feels so real, and I can actually remember the dream!”

The man’s gaze drifted towards the end of the bridge, overlooking the water and the greenery of the park. Over the trees he could see strange gray rectangle shaped buildings towering high, almost as if they were scraping the sky. “I do not recognize this place. Is this by chance part of your magicless world?”

“Yep, in all it’s magicless glory!”

You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.

Much of their time spent together that night, (Y/n) explained their homeworld to their dream buddy. However, their time did not stop there. Every week, the same phenomenon occurred, where their dreams were connected somehow despite the fact they were from two different worlds. Every time it happened, the two met and spent their time together. For so long this went on, and each time Malleus felt more connected to the fearless human that befriended him. Slowly but surely, he began to look forward to the sleep he didn’t need but still desired for a chance at connecting with (Y/n) again.

After three months, (Y/n) fell asleep eager as ever, and awoke in an unfamiliar forest. Sometime before they awoke, their dream buddy, Mal, would stumble upon their location and they’d get to spend another wonderful night together. So, while they waited for him to appear, they pranced around barefoot on the soft green grass, weaving around the pine trees as they sang a song they recalled, “I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream~”

Their dream buddy emerged from the forest, going unnoticed by the human. For a moment he stood off to the side, listening to their lovely voice sing such a pleasant and familiar melody. He watched them dance alone, his lime green eyes following their every movement as a smile curled at his lips.

“You’ll love me at once,”

Once their back was turned, he stepped forward and took their hands in his. Joining their waltz, and finishing the lyric in his low and smoky voice, “The way you did once upon a dream~...”

(Y/n) turned to face the young man, shocked at his sudden arrival. “Mal!” He continued to hold their hand as they visibly relaxed upon seeing it was just their dream buddy. “Nice day, right? Oh, I mean, nice night, huh?”

“Yes, it is a nice night.” Finally pulling his hand away, he inquired softly yet somewhat hopefully, “Are you here you provide me company once again?”

“Yeah! I was wondering where you were, you know. You’ll never guess what happened to me today!”

But if I know you, I know what you’ll do.

After six months of meeting, the strangest event occurred, much stranger than their dreams.

(Y/n) was at a party, a huge gathering at a popular bar. Deciding to take a break from the tight-packed crowds, blasting music, and flashing lights, they snuck away from their friends and found a private area on the balcony of one of the higher-level floors. It was beginning to drizzle, but they continued to watch the sunset without a care as the tiny droplets landed on their hair and their clothes.

Malleus was on one of his nightly strolls, it was peaceful and quiet, with only the chirping of crickets or the occasional hoot of an owl. It was easy to escape the watchful eye of the knights Sebek and Silver, quickly forgetting about them as his mind wandered off to the thought of (Y/n). Usually by now, he’d try to sleep in hopes of seeing them, but the human had mentioned last night that they’d be busy tonight and not have much time for sleep. He wondered what they were doing, who they were with, what were they talking about, where were they, were they smiling at this very moment?

Deep in thought, the fae was unable to think of anyone or anything but (Y/n) for quite some time. He had to wonder, would things be different if they were here in Twisted Wonderland with him? Such a thought made him smile. If that were to happen, he wouldn’t have to sleep to see them only twice or three times a week. He’d get to see them everyday, day or night, awake or asleep. Holding up his staff, he recalled the ancient spell he found in his hours of research. Perhaps, he could get another glimpse of them this way. Underneath his breath he chanted the spell. His pace slowed as he felt vibrations underneath him and in the air, the beating of music distant but he could still hear it and feel it. Lifting his head, he looked around until he spotted a familiar figure.

You’ll love me at once.

(Y/n) tensed upon feeling a gaze on them, fearing it was some drunkard that somehow made their way to the balcony. However, when they turned and saw those familiar lime green eyes and those black horns, they dropped their glass beverage.

CLINK!

The beverage shattered against the floor, the human gaping at the sight of their otherworldly friend before them.

Malleus was pleased the spell worked. He could see them, they could see him. Of course, he wasn’t actually there in their world, but he could sense some of the things around them. The booming music and vibrations, the distant sound of lively chatter. That must’ve all been around (Y/n). Seeing the shock on their face, he chuckled, “Hello, child of man.” Wanting to step forward, to engulf them in his arms, but he couldn’t move a step. He was frozen in place, just mere feet away.

“Mal?” (Y/n) appeared confused, so many questions buzzing in their mind. They too were unable to move forward, but that didn’t stop their questions. “How are you-- How is this-- I-- You’re doing this with your magic?”

“(Y/n)!” Distant voices called. Malleus looked at the source, able to see the hazy figures of multiple people joyfully calling out for his child of man, “What are you doing out here?! Let’s go back in and party!”

Party? (Y/n) skipped their meeting, the times he looked forward to, for a party with those people? He felt the vibrations vanish, and the illusion of his dear dream buddy disappeared as well. Holding his hand up to his jet black hair, he could feel the droplets that remained in his hair from the light rain in their world.

Perhaps it would be best to try a different approach…

The way you did once upon a dream. 

❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream.

It took a lot of work to find a spell that could transfer him to an entirely different world, it took the effort of both himself and Lilia to cast the spell. Even then, only one person could enter and he only had limited time to locate and find his dream buddy. Recognizing the park they often wandered in their dreams, the real thing was here just across the street. Looking up at the skyscrapers, he racked his memories for the one (Y/n) pointed to and called home. Finally, he spotted it.

It was a quaint apartment complex compared to the towering buildings lining every walkway. It was the middle of the night, so barely anyone was out. The building was brick and he imagined a few dozen other humans must’ve lived within, judging by the many windows. However, he recalled the important detail (Y/n) mentioned, about a small garden rooftop and their star-gazing spot.

In an instant, he teleported himself to the roof and saw it. A space made of glass with dew drops covering the clear walls, plants lining the wall and off to one-side within the glass room was a swinging bench. There they lay, his sleeping beauty, fast asleep. His green eyes gleamed, he felt his heart pick up speed as he reached for the door knob, silently entering as to not disturb their slumber.

I know you, that gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.

Upon entering, he could feel the warmth in the room that contrasted to the cold outside. Instantly, large black wings sprouted out from his back. The black feathers of his wings grazed over the green plants, causing thorns to rise up from the soil and suffocate the plant life that once grew there.

And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem.

Once he towered over their vulnerable sleeping form, he knelt down beside them. Lime green eyes took in every inch of body, his mind soaking in every detail and angle of their face. They were here, truly right here in front of him, so close that he could just touch them. His pupils dilated as he slowly reached forward, cold fingers lingering over their warm skin and soft hair. The contact serving as evidence that this was no longer just a dream he could long for, this was reality. When they began to stir awake and their eyes fluttered open, he smiled as his dear child of man, his beloved dream buddy.

But if I know you, I know what you’ll do.

“Mal…?” (Y/n) sat up, dazed and confused as they blinked sleepily. Perhaps this was still a part of their dream. “W-What are you doing here…?”

That smile on his lips remained as he picked them up, cradling them in his arms while his wings wrapped around them. The black feathers brushing against her skin, for the first time ever, (Y/n) was frightened of their dream buddy. They shivered when his cold skin touched them and those lime green eyes unwavering as he spoke, “I’m taking you home, back with me where you belong, my sleeping beauty…”

You’ll love me at one, the way you did once upon a dream. 

- You might like this!

[dragonsdomain]

Lair

“Well that explains why you’ve never been to your lair,” Ember said, smirking. “You didn’t even know it existed.”

Danny laughed before turning his attention back to the oddly familiar door in front of him. “Well I do spend most of my time in the human world. And I don’t even usually pay much attention to these doors. There are so many. How’d you find it?”

“Ectosignature, silly,” Ember said, rapping a knuckle on the wood. “Don’t you know anything about ghost culture?”

Danny looked away, rubbing his neck sheepishly.

“Er, sorry. I guess that was a dumb question,” Ember said. She gestured to the door. “Well here you go! There’s your lair. You can… ya know… explore it and stuff.”

Danny moved to open the door but let his hand hover over the knob, strangely apprehensive. “What was… what was inside?”

Ember’s eyebrows flew up. “You think I went inside?” She sounded dumbfounded. “Even if lair doors weren’t locked until the owner of the lair first opens them, Don’t you know how- I mean…” She corrected herself. “It is super rude to enter a ghost’s lair uninvited.”

Danny’s mouth formed a silent “O”, causing Ember to perform a facepalm. That did explain some of the encounters he’d had in the Ghost Zone.

“Well, uh…” Danny’s attention fell back to the door in front of him. “Do you at least have some idea of what I might find in here? I mean… what’s a lair usually like?”

“Eh, I don’t know exactly how it works,” Ember said, leaning back in the air thoughtfully. “I think sometimes they’re connected to your obsession. Sometimes they’re just like, where you’d be happiest or thrive the best.” She shrugged. “I dunno, I’m no scientist.”

Danny exhaled a puff of air. “Okay. That doesn’t sound so bad.” He placed his hand on the handle of the door. He hesitated. Why was he so nervous?

Vaguely ominous notes began strumming from behind him. Danny turned towards the girl behind him who was currently plucking out the foreboding background music on her guitar with a mischievous half-smile on her face.

“You know, you’re not helping,” Danny said in slight exasperation.

Ember stopped playing as she stifled a snicker. “All right, all right,” She said, feigning offense. “I’ll take my leave. Don’t die in there!” She said before speeding off into the foggy expanse of the Ghost Zone.

“Still not helping!” Danny called after her before turning back to the door.

Danny put his hand back on the handle. He hadn’t noticed taking it off. Perhaps because of curiosity, perhaps because of some unidentifiable anxiety, he paused before opening the door to examine its exterior. It looked familiar somehow, yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on where he’d seen it before. It was something he knew he should know, but the recollection of where the door was from escaped him.

He sighed. Come on. Just open the door. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

He opened the door.

And he suddenly remembered where he’d seen that door before.

Behind the door lay a perfect replica of his own bedroom. He looked around in puzzlement as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Every detail was the same, all his model spaceships exactly where they should be, the little glow-in-the-dark stars arranged on the ceiling as close to the night sky as he’d been able to get them, everything precisely where it should be all the way down to the math homework laid out on his desk which he’d only gotten that morning.

Danny looked behind himself at the door, an eyebrow raised questioningly. Had the door just taken him to his own bedroom? His own house? Was the ghost lair of a halfa just his own home?

He looked back at his room and let out a laugh, changing back to human form. He felt a little disappointed that his adventure had simply led him back to where he went every day, but mostly relieved. He’d been afraid he’d find… well, something… in his lair that he didn’t want to find. His lair simply being his own bedroom was a bit underwhelming, but far from the worst it could have been.

In fact, he thought as he looked back at the oh, so familiar door, it was a little convenient that he’d been dropped off straight at home. He’d had his little adventure, and now he could commence his evening again right off the bat.

As Danny opened the door, he was pleased to see that it opened to the hall of his house, not back into the Ghost Zone. Yep, he was back at home.

“Danny, come down for dinner!” his mother’s voice echoed up the stairwell.

“Coming!” Yep, very convenient that he’d been brought straight here. He didn’t want to make his parents suspicious by missing dinner again.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and was promptly greeted by his parents and sister, all sitting down at the dinner table.

“Hey,” Danny said as he sat down, looking around dubiously. “...Why are we all eating dinner together? What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing, Danno! Except that your mother and I thought it might be nice to have family dinners more often,” Dad explained.

“We know you’ve been having a bit of a rough time with school and, well, everything, and something’s obviously going on with you that you’re not telling us,” Mom began.

Anxiety spiked in Danny’s gut. Did they know? Were they going to figure it out? How did he mess up enough to tip them off to that fact? They couldn’t figure out his secret; they’d hate him if they knew that he was a-

“...But we just want you to know that we love you no matter what. And nothing could ever change that.”

“We wouldn’t even stop loving you if you became a ghost!” Dad bellowed jovially. Mom rolled her eyes at him but smiled at Danny in silent agreement to the statement.

Danny sat back, stunned. Did he hear that right?

Jazz looked as surprised as he was. “Did you just say you’d love him even if...?” Her question trailed off.

Mom cocked an eyebrow. “...He was a ghost? Of course. He’d still be our Danny.”

It was too good to be true. Danny still almost couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Tears pricked his eyes. “Thanks. That’s… good to hear.”

At the sight of the tears Mom wrapped an arm around Danny’s shoulders. “Oh, sweetie, was that what you’ve been worrying about? Why you always look so scared when we talk about ghost hunting?”

“It’s just that, the way you’ve been treating Phantom…”

“Oh, we actually just made a truce with him this morning.”

...Wait. What?

Danny glanced at Jazz in confusion. She was grinning at him, but stopped when she saw his confusion. What? She mouthed.

Danny’s eyes dropped to the table in puzzlement. Something was wrong here. That hadn’t happened. At least not to him. Was there a ghost impersonating him or something? He really needed to get Jazz alone to talk about it.

Just when he was about to speak, something beeped loudly down in the lab.

Mom and Dad’s eyes met. “Jack, did you forget to-” Mom started.

“Yes.”

At that, they both rushed down the stairs.

“...Perfect timing.” Danny muttered to himself. He looked at Jazz. “I didn’t make a truce with Mom and Dad this morning.”

Jazz frowned. “But you told me about it during lunch. It happened during first period, remember? You missed that chemistry test to go fight Skulker? And you told me about how you were worried that was going to make you fail chemistry but I told you your grades were great even if you couldn’t retake it?” Danny looked more confused by the second. “You don’t remember any of that?”

“Jazz, since when have my grades been great?”

Jazz raised an eyebrow, pulled out her phone, and showed him his grades on it. He stood up and walked around the table to get a better look. Straight A’s.

Danny stumbled back. That- he didn’t have straight A’s, what- something wasn’t right-

“Jazz, where are Sam and Tucker?” Danny asked hesitantly.

“I think they said they were going to be coming over any minute now.”

At that exact moment the door burst open. Sam and Tucker entered, looking too happy, too healthy, much too carefree. Oh no, not them too.

“Danny!” They called out, rushing to give him a hug. Danny returned their embrace stiffly.

“Hey guys. You look like you’re doing… really well.”

Sam snorted, pushing him away. “Well you sound weirdly disappointed about that. What, do you miss all the ghost fighting we used to do?”

“Used to do?”

Jazz looked down at Danny in concern. “Are you okay, Danny? Don’t you remember all the truces you made with the ghosts? You’ve hardly had to fight anyone for weeks.”

“...I…” Was he in some kind of alternate timeline? How did he get here?

He suddenly remembered something Ember had said about ghost lairs: “Sometimes they’re just like, where you’d be happiest or thrive the best.”

Of course.

“...This isn’t real…” Danny whispered.

“What?” Jazz asked.

“It’s not… you’re not real!” Danny stepped back and glared at the things that looked like his friends and sister.

“Dude, of course we’re real,” Tucker said, reaching out a hand in concern.

Danny slapped it away and stepped back again. “No, you’re all just figments of my imagination or something.” He stepped back again and found his back against the door. “This isn’t real. It’s all just… fake.” He wasn’t really talking to the people in front of him anymore. He slid down to the floor and buried his face in his hands. “Why would Mom and Dad actually make a truce with me? Or be willing to accept me? Of course it’s not real.”

A hand rested on his shoulder. “Danny-” Jazz began.

Danny flung her hand away and phased through the door behind him, ignoring the shouts of surprise from those in the room. He found himself back outside his lair, in the Ghost Zone. A glance over his shoulder revealed the door, which looked like his bedroom door again, still shut. No concerned voices leaked through. Nothing thrust the door open to search for him.

He stared at the door numbly. It had been nice while it lasted, to have a dinner with his family, to have his parents not plotting his murder for once, to see Sam and Tucker without injuries stemming from his folly. Even if it wasn’t real.

A wry chuckle escaped his lips at the same moment as tears began to well in his eyes.

Of course it couldn’t be real.

[bestillmyslashyheart]

50 First Breakups

Alex stared at them. Four anxious and apologetic faces stared back alongside one heartbroken one.

“What do you mean we broke up?” Michael asked again. No one had answered him the first time he asked and he was getting visibly more upset by the continued silence but Alex had no words for him. They’d broken up a month ago, a combination of growing distance, simultaneous bad weeks, too much alcohol, and a loud fight with things shouted that couldn’t be taken back.

And Michael apparently remembered none of it. He couldn’t remember anything of the last two months.

Alex looked away from his teary eyes that tore at Alex’s heart and stared at the crowd behind him. “What happened?”

“Alex-” Michael started but stopped when Alex held up a hand without even looking at him.

“Kyle?” Alex pressed.

Kyle shifted on his feet. “Honestly, I’m not sure. He hit his head but it wasn’t enough to cause this. Plus Max healed him, so...”

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled softly. He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d gotten the SOS text from Isobel but it certainly wasn’t to find his ex-boyfriend which short term amnesia that was just long enough to make him forget that they were very definitively exes now. Michael had greeted him with a bright smile and a kiss that Alex was too stunned to resist and it had gone steadily downhill from there.

“Alex?” Michael asked again. “What happened? The last thing I remember we were great and now you’re saying we broke up a month ago? What-”

“No,” Alex shook his head. “I’m sorry you’re going through this but I’m not going to rehash everything for you. We broke up. That’s it. That’s all that matters.” His eyes flickered from Michael to Isobel and Max’s worried faces to Kyle’s look of utter perplexion to Liz’s sympathetic grimace.

“That’s not all that matters!” Michael yelled back. “Tell me how we went from happy to this,” he waved a hand at Alex, “in less than a month.”

“Michael.” Isobel put a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe not right now? You two can talk it out later.” Alex opened his mouth to object but closed it immediately when Isobel shot him a glare.

“Yeah,” he agreed instead. “Later.” He cleared his throat. “If there’s nothing else...”

Liz took kindness on him and shook her head. “I’ll walk you out.” She stood up and they both ignored everyone else as they walked out to his car. “Are you okay?” Alex hadn’t told her, or anyone, the details of the breakup but they all knew it had been bad; he and Michael could barely be in the same room as each other these days.

“I’m fine,” Alex replied.

Liz snorted softly. “Yeah, okay. Well if you decide you want a friend while you’re dealing with all that fineness, you know where I am.” Alex gave her a quick hug and a small smile and got into his car.

Just before he pulled away, he rolled down the window and called out, “Liz?” She stopped in the open doorway to the house and turned around. “You’ll keep an eye on him?”

“We will,” she promised. Alex nodded at her in thanks before pulling away.

---

As much as Alex would like to have put Michael and his amnesia out of his mind, he couldn’t. The rest of the day, and most of the night as he tossed and turned, he played the situation over in his head. At first it had hurt to see Michael so happy to see him, to kiss him, to see his heartbreak over their breakup; it hurt to be alone in his misery and grief over their failure to make it last. But as he thought about it, the idea of a second chance crept up on him. A chance to wipe the slate clean, to move past that last fight. It wasn’t right, Alex knew that, to take advantage of Michael’s memory problems, and Alex would certainly never do it, but the thought was there. And it wasn’t going away.

When his alarm went off in the morning, Alex squeezed his eyes shut for a moment in protest before getting up with a groan. Today would be hell, but the sooner he got through it, the sooner he could go back to bed. That dream powered him through a shower and his morning routine all the way up until he went to make coffee and heard the truck pull up in his driveway.

Alex froze, one hand on the cabinet door, the other holding a mug aloft, as he heard first the slam of Michael’s truck door and the familiar turn of the lock on his front door before it swung open with a bang. “Shit,” he heard Michael curse softly amid the rustle of paper bags. A moment later the door slammed shut and Alex slowly lowered his mug to the countertop as Michael rounded the corner into view.

His smile lit up his face and Alex’s heart ached. “Good morning,” Michael greeted softly. He rounded the countertop and dropped the bags of food from the Crashdown on top of it on his way to Alex hello. Once again, Alex was too surprised to stop him or to stop himself from kissing back out of habit.

“I don’t know what I did last night,” Michael laughed softly when he pulled back, “but I woke up in Max’s spare room. Figured since I was out already I could bring back some breakfast.”

Alex stared at him, uncomprehendingly. “Michael,” he finally said. He wasn’t sure what he sounded like but it apparently wasn’t good since Michael stopped what he was doing with the food and turned to face him.

“Alex?” He reached for him but Alex leaned out of his touch.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Michael furrowed his brow. “Uh,” he looked down at the food, “going to the Crashdown for breakfast?”

Alex closed his eyes briefly. “Yesterday. What’s the last thing you remember from yesterday,” he clarified.

“I don’t know,” Michael shrugged. “I worked late and we had dinner at the Crashdown and then you had something to do with Greg so I went home and watched a movie. Why? Did I forget something?”

Alex stared at him. That had been two months ago. That was the last memory Michael had mentioned having yesterday. “You don’t remember anything after that?”

“No, should I? You’re starting to scare me a little. What happened? What did I forget?”

Alex pulled out his phone and pulled out the calendar and showed it to him. Michael stared down at it before shaking his head. “No, it’s April.”

“It’s June,” Alex confirmed.

“No, it’s not,” Michael insisted.

Alex sighed and called Isobel. She answered after on ring. “Can’t talk right n-”

“He’s here,” Alex cut her off.

Isobel cursed. “Sorry. He was gone before-”

“He thinks it’s April,” he cut her off again.

This time Isobel was silent. Then, “what?”

“Just...come over.” Alex hung up without waiting for her reply.

“Alex?” Michael asked, somewhat timidly. Alex took the cup of coffee meant for him and skirted around Michael to get out of the kitchen. Michael followed. “Alex?” He asked again.

“You hit your head yesterday,” Alex told him. “And now you seem to have amnesia.” Michael scoffed. “Yesterday the last thing you could remember was us going to the Crashdown for dinner and then going home and watching a movie while I went out with Greg. That night was two months ago.” Alex paused briefly before forcing out the rest. “We broke up a month ago. You moved out and you’ve been bouncing between Isobel and Max’s guest rooms.”

Michael stared at him. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Alex.”

“I’m dead serious Guerin.” Michael flinched as if Alex had struck him.

“Since when do you call me Guerin anymore?”

“Since we broke up.”

Michael shook his head. “Alex, stop-”

The front door burst open and multiple people stampeded down the hallway, Isobel in the lead. She let out a breath when she saw Michael before swatting him on the arm. “Don’t do that! We were worried.”

Michael stared at her. “Don’t do what? Go home?”

Isobel and Max stared at him then at Alex. Liz bypassed them and came straight to Alex’s side.

“Michael,” Max said gruffly but not unkindly, “this isn’t your home anymore.”

Michael shook his head. “I don’t know what possessed you and Alex to go along with this together but it’s really not funny.”

Liz put her hand on Alex’s arm and squeezed gently. “Michael,” Isobel tried, “you hit your head, it’s causing memory problems, you don’t remember-”

“Alex and I wouldn’t break up! And if we did, it wouldn’t happen that fast!” Michael was almost shouting now.

Alex couldn’t look at him. Two months ago he would have had Michael’s conviction too but it had all unraveled almost before he even noticed. One day they were fine, struggling a little bit but overall fine, and the next day they were done.

“Michael,” Isobel grabbed his arm. “We can talk about this at Max’s but I’m sure Alex wants his house back so we should go.”

“I have to get to work,” Alex admitted. He glanced at the clock on his phone. “I’m going to be late.”

“Great, then we really should go,” Isobel insisted. She tugged gently then firmly at Michael’s arm when he didn’t budge.

“Alex...” Michael looked to him.

“Go Michael,” Alex ordered quietly. And Michael went. Isobel flashed him a grim look over her shoulder as she led him out and Max barely glanced at him as he followed. Liz hesitated, her hand still on his arm. “Liz, I really do need to get to work.”

She smiled wryly. “Not going to tell me you’re fine?”

Alex shook his head. “No. Because I’m really not. But I do have to work so...”

“Okay. Call me when you get off and I’ll come over.”

Alex agreed and then she left too. He needed to be out the door five minutes ago but Alex took a moment to breath deeply and try to process just what the hell had happened here this morning. He’d spent hours thinking, albeit halfheartedly, that he and Michael might get a second chance, and now that was gone. At the very least, he had expected the hard part to be over with.

The unexpected reality of having to tell Michael they were over again was a slap in the face that he really hadn’t needed.

---

The next three days, Alex got a text from either Liz or Isobel telling him that Michael’s memory hadn’t changed. He woke up every morning thinking the previous night was that night two months ago and every morning they had to update him on what he’d missed.

Even if they hadn’t texted him, Alex would have known anyway from the sheer number of texts and calls he got from the other man. He was very close to blocking his number even though he didn’t want to do that, though honestly, with their group of friends, everyone needed to be able to get in touch with each other at a moment’s notice so blocking wasn’t really an option. And yet.

The fourth day was Saturday and Alex’s day to sleep in. Early enough that the sun was barely coming through the window, Alex woke up to a warm body slipping into bed next to him. He was still half asleep and his body still so used to sleeping next to Michael that he merely rolled over and tucked himself in next to him and went back to sleep.

He woke up again hours later to a firm jostling of his shoulder. Alex cracked an eye open to see Liz staring at him from next to the bed. Her eyes flickered between his face and the space behind his shoulder and Alex only had a moment to wonder what she was doing in his bedroom when he registered the furnace behind him and realized what had happened. “He slipped out early,” she whispered apologetically.

Alex squeezed his eyes shut, enjoyed the heat of Michael’s body for a brief moment more, then turned over and shoved Michael out of the bed. He hit the floor with a loud yelp before shooting to his feet. Liz blushed and turned her back at the sight of Michael’s naked body. Alex just closed his eyes again.

“Alex, what the-”

“Put your clothes back on and go with Liz,” he ordered without opening his eyes. There was a moment where nobody moved and he knew Michael was going to argue. “Now,” he added, his tone brooking no argument. Liz stayed where she was as Michael moved around the room and picked up his clothes. When he was dressed, Liz shooed him out of the room ahead of her.

“Alex, I am so sorry. We didn’t think he’d be up that early on a Saturday.”

Alex buried the palms of his hands into his eyes. “He used to pick up the opening shift at Sanders’,” he told her. “He’s used to getting up at dawn on Saturdays.”

“Oh.”

“Can you just get him out of here?”

Liz nodded and left without another word. Her voice carried down the hall from where she was talking to Michael but Alex couldn’t make out any of the words and a moment alter he heard the front door close. Only then did he let the tears fall.

---

Week two of Michael’s recurrent amnesia was no better than the first. The others did a good job of keeping him occupied and away from Alex but Alex still couldn’t bring himself to block Michael’s number and still had to deal with the constant interruptions. But not even their combined efforts could keep Michael away forever and on the third day of the second week, Alex came home from work to Michael sitting in his living room.

“Get out,” Alex greeted tiredly.

Michael’s face, hopeful just a moment ago, fell. “I don’t understand.”

“I know,” Alex replied honestly. Because he did, he understood that one day was not enough to understand everything that had changed for Michael. But he also understood that he couldn’t do this with him. “But I’m not doing this. I’m not explaining it and I’m not talking about it and I want you to go.”

“Why won’t you tell me? The others can’t tell me anything because they don’t know either.”

Alex sighed heavily. “What would be the point? You’re just going to forget again.”

Michael’s jaw clenched and he nodded jerkily. “Fine. You’re right. Why bother explaining anything to the guy with amnesia.” With that, he got to his feet and pushed past Alex on his way to the door. Part of Alex wanted to stop him, wanted to apologize, but he didn’t. It was harsh, but it was true. There was no point having it out with Michael only for him to forget it all over again. The only thing it would accomplish was hurting them both but only Alex would have to live with it.

---

On the second Saturday of Michael’s amnesia, Alex had dropped into bed so late Friday that he was fairly certain not even the shock of his dead father appearing before him could get him out of bed. And in his exhaustion, he forgot what had happened the previous week. This time he didn’t so much as stir when Michael slipped into bed beside him and pulled him into his arms. He only woke when he heard Max’s loud whispering from the doorway.

“Michael,” Max hissed. Michael groaned in greeting. “Come here.”

“Go away, Max,” Michael mumbled. “It’s Saturday.” He burrowed closer to Alex and wrapped his arm around Alex’s waist, his hand dipping low and that’s when Alex finally woke up. He grabbed Michael’s wrist and pulled it away from him before it got too close to certain parts of his anatomy. Michael whined and nuzzled into his hair. “Alex.”

Alex pushed his hand back over to his side of the bed and leaned over to grab Michael’s phone. Unlocking it, the password forever unchanged, he set a daily reminder for first thing in the morning telling Michael what had happened and that he and Alex had broken up and to stay away. That done, he dropped the phone on Michael’s chest and escaped to the bathroom before Michael could drag him back. He hid there for a few minutes before there was a knock on the door. “We’re heading out,” Max told him.

Alex didn’t bother replying.

---

The reminder worked for zero (0) days.

First thing Sunday morning, Michael came barreling into his room holding his phone in the air. “What the hell is this?” Liz came in hot on his heels.

“Michael!” She yelled. “What part of leave Alex alone told you to come running over here first thing in the morning?!” Alex groaned and put a pillow over his head, hoping to block out the two intruders.

“This is crap!” Michael shouted back. “It’s some sick joke.”

“Mikey,” Liz cajoled. “I will explain everything just please come with me. Let Alex sleep.”

“But-” Michael started to protest. Alex took the pillow off his head long enough to say, “go with Liz,” before immediately replacing it.

“Mikey,” Liz said again, softer this time. “Come on.”

They didn’t close the door behind them but Alex breathed a sigh of relief when the front door shut a few minutes later.

---

“I come in peace,” Michael greeted quietly when Alex opened the door a full week later. Alex dropped his head to the door frame and groaned but didn’t say anything. Michael watched him with a soft look for a long moment before continuing. “I have amnesia. I don’t remember the last three months. Every day I wake up and forget the previous day. You and I broke up two months ago. No one knows why.”

Alex arched an eyebrow in question when he stopped.

“I want to know why.” Alex didn’t have time to say anything before Michael held up a hand and continued. “I have a journal. It looks like I started keeping track of the days after the first week or so. I wrote down that I started it after I tried to talk to you about this before and you said it was pointless because I wouldn’t remember anyway.”

Alex straightened and looked at him in surprise. “No one’s mentioned a journal.”

Michael shrugged. “I don’t know if they know about it. No one’s mentioned it to me or suggesting I write something down so they probably don’t know. But I know. I don’t find it every day but I find it most days and when I do I write down what happened. So can we talk? I promise I’ll try to remember.”

Alex thought it over and then opened the door wider. He turned and walked into the living room, trusting Michael to follow him.

“So,” Michael started when they were settled on the couch. Alex had stopped to get a cup of tea even though he didn’t drink it just to have something to do with his hands. “What happened?”

Alex didn’t look at him, his attention fixed on the mug in his hands, his fingers toying with the string of the tea bag. “We grew distant.”

“In a month?” Michael interrupted. Alex glared at him and he held his hands up in apology. “Sorry. Continue.”

“We just kept getting busy with other things and didn’t see each other much and then we both had things come up with work and Maria and I fought and you and Max were going at it about something, I don’t even know what because you wouldn’t talk to me about it, and it all just boiled up. I was angry about work and Maria and you were pissed about something and you refused to talk to me about it. That lasted about a week. I’m not sure we really spoke that week. We definitely didn’t see each other other than a few minutes in the mornings. And then we made plans to go to the Pony and you wouldn’t stop drinking so I kept drinking because I wanted to stop being mad at you and then when we somehow got back here we just-” Alex stopped. “We fought.” He sighed heavily. “Things were said that can’t be unsaid and we broke up.”

The silence lingered between them for a long moment until Alex finally looked over at Michael. Michael was staring at the floor, his face twisted in concentration.

“Michael?”

Michael looked up at him and blinked a couple of times. “I don’t think you’ve ever said so much without actually saying anything before.”

Alex blinked. “What?”

“We got busy? We fought? So what? We do that all the time. It’s called life, remember?” Alex did remember. A few months into their relationship they had been drifting apart a little bit, both of them caught up in other things for a while and didn’t have time for each other, and it had scared them into going to couple’s therapy. They only went for a few sessions but the one thing that stuck with them was that they didn’t need to be together all the time. It was okay to have other interests and priorities so long as they kept making an effort to make time for each other. People got busy, the therapist had said, couple fought. It was normal. The couples that stayed together were the ones that made an effort to stay together. It was advice that had gotten them through a few rough patches over the year and a half they were together, but- “this was different,” Alex insisted.

“I call bullshit,” Michael protested. “One big fight and we just gave up? That’s crap. That’s not us.”

Alex looked at him steadily. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever thought of me?”

“What?” Michael shook his head slightly. “Where is that coming fro-?”

“Sometimes I really am my father’s son,” Alex cut him off and Michael’s mouth snapped shut.

It was quiet a moment before Michael spoke. “And what did you say?” He didn’t try to deny that he’d said it.

Alex looked away. “If I was my father’s son, you would have been in Caulfield with your mother.”

Michael sat there a moment before getting up without a word. The front door closed softly in his wake.

---

Three days later he was back.

“Michael,” Alex greeted warily.

“Alex,” Michael greeted. His voice wasn’t cold but it wasn’t as warm as it used to be. It was enough to tell Alex that Michael had written down their conversation and had read it today. “Can we talk?”

“Why?” Alex exhaled. “What’s the point?”

“The point is I love you and you love me and I don’t care what we fought about, it won’t be the end of us. I won’t let it be.” He took a step closer. If Alex tried to close the door now it would bounce off of Michael’s shoes. “Alex,” he added quietly. “If you really think one fight is the end of us, say so now. I’ll write it in my journal and I won’t come back.”

Alex looked at him, really looked for the first time in weeks. Michael let him, saying nothing and gazing back with honest sincerity in his eyes.

Alex opened the door further. “Come on in.”

---

The next time Alex saw Michael, Michael hadn’t read his journal yet. It was only two days after their last conversation and Alex wasn’t prepared for it.

“Alex!” Michael’s voice rang clear across the busy street. The honest joy in it stopped Alex in his tracks and let Michael catch up. “Hey, stranger,” he greeted when he slipped an arm around Alex’s waist. Alex remembered himself in time to dodge Michael’s kiss.

“Hey,” Alex returned, stepping neatly out of his grasp. He glanced around for Michael’s current babysitter, the others still not letting him go anywhere alone just in case something exactly like this happened.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asked, reaching for him again. Again, Alex stepped away. A few stores down, Isobel appeared out of a shop, her head down as she double checked her bag.

“Isobel!” Alex called.

Isobel’s head snapped up and she looked at him with wide eyes. She was a little too far away for Alex to hear but her lips clearly formed the word shit. “Michael,” she called as she hurried over to them. “I thought you were waiting for me outside.”

“I am outside,” Michael replied, glancing between her and Alex. “What’s going on?”

Alex looked to Isobel. She gave him a halfhearted apologetic shrug. “He’s always mopey after we tell him, I just wanted a few hours before that today. I didn’t think it would be a problem.” She didn’t think they’d run into Alex, she didn’t say.

Alex rolled his eyes. “I trust you all know how to handle it by now,” he told her. “So I will let you handle it.” He cut a glance at Michael before turning away.

“Alex?” Michael called after him. Alex ignored him.

Hours later, as Alex was getting ready for bed, his front door burst open. Alex groaned in frustration but continued brushing his teeth as Michael called his name.

“I talked to Max,” Michael’s voice came from the doorway. Alex rinsed and spit and didn’t reply. “I know what we fought about. Before.”

Alex looked at him through the mirror. “Max doesn’t know what we fought about.”

“Not you and me,” Michael clarified. “Me and Max.”

Alex dried his hands and picked up his crutches. “Oh?” Michael moved out of the doorway when Alex approached and led him back into the living room. Alex cast a forlorn look at his bedroom and followed.

“After I saw you in town earlier and Isobel filled me in, I went looking for a record or something. I knew there was no way I would just let myself never remember.”

“So you found your journal.”

“Yeah. You said that one of the reasons I was angry before our fight was because of issues with Max that I wouldn’t tell you about.” Alex nodded. “So I talked to Max.”

“How’d that go?”

Michael shrugged. “He wanted to know if I remembered anything but other than that it didn’t seem to be a big deal.”

“So what was the fight about?”

Michael twisted to the side and retrieved a stack of folders Alex had somehow missed sitting on the coffee table. He dropped them in front of Alex. “Max went digging through your military record. He said he knew we were serious but he didn’t want to take the chance of me getting hurt again so he wanted to make sure I knew what I was getting into.”

Alex stared at the files. “He shouldn’t have those. It’s illegal to have those.”

Michael shrugged. “My guess is Jenna or Charlie helped him out.”

“Did you read them?”

Michael shook his head. “No. At least, not today. I don’t know if I read them before.”

“If this was what the fight about, if I was what the fight was about,” Alex said slowly, “why wouldn’t you tell me that?”

“I don’t know,” Michael shrugged. “But I can guess. And I’d say that I probably was pissed at Max for butting into my relationship and for violating your privacy like that and I probably didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to know my brother had done that.”

Alex stared at him. “You were angry at him for violating my privacy but didn’t feel the need to tell me that he’d done it?”

Michael rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I’m guessing here. But it was the first thing that came to mind when he showed them to me tonight so I can only guess it’s what I thought last time.”

“You read it,” Alex declared.

“I told you I didn’t.”

Alex shook his head. “Not tonight. Before. During our fight you said something that didn’t make sense at the time because there was no way you could have known about it but if you had my file...”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Alex shot back. “Don’t apologize for something you don’t remember doing. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Fine,” Michael huffed. Neither said anything for a while. “What did you and Maria fight about?” Michael finally asked.

Alex looked up at him. “What?”

“You said we were both pissed off. Me because I fought with Max,” he gestured at the file, “and you because you’d fought with Maria. Now we both know why I was pissed, what about you?”

Alex sat back against the couch with a grunt. “She said some things I didn’t like.” Michael waited for him to continue but Alex didn’t add anything. He rolled his eyes and motioned for Alex to carry on. Still, Alex hesitated. “She- she wanted to give me advice. About you.”

Michael blinked. “Why would Maria give you advice about me?”

“Because she’s the only other person you’ve ever dated?”

“So? Our relationships are totally different.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How so?”

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” Michael sounded incredulous.

“Humor me.”

“Maria and I were good together but we weren’t going anywhere. It wasn’t going to be a forever thing and we both knew if even if we didn’t admit it. You and me, we are the forever thing. This isn’t a fling, or a fun way to spend a few months together. This is it. We are it. Maria wouldn’t know the first thing about me in a relationship with you because the two don’t compare. She and I had our thing and it was good and fun and it ended when it needed to. You and I have our thing and it’s amazing and it’s not ending because it doesn’t need to. Not now, not ever.”

“Michael,” Alex exhaled. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes it is,” Michael shot back immediately. “You said it yourself, this is it. No more fucking around, no more going back and forth. We are in it together and that’s how it’s going to stay. Whatever happens, we work through it. So let’s work through it.”

“You don’t remember,” Alex reminded him. “We said awful things to each other.”

“I don’t care,” Michael shrugged. “I don’t, Alex. I really don’t. So what if we did? So what if we meant them, even just a little bit of us? We’ve always been good at knowing where to hurt each other, that hasn’t changed, but that doesn’t mean we give up. Because no matter how many awful things we say, they’re just words.”

“Words matter.” It was a lesson they’d learned the hard way after too many years of too few conversations.

“They do,” Michael agreed. “But so do actions. And we have built a life together and it is good and I don’t want to give it up.”

“You did. You do.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You don’t fucking remember!” Alex shouted.

“I remember enough!” Michael shouted back. “Over a month and I never set foot in the Airstream. I bounced between Isobel and Max’s places and I lived out of a duffel bag and I never once attempted to move back into the Airstream. If I had given up, I wouldn’t have kept my shit in boxes in Izzy’s spare room. I don’t know why I agreed to move out but I know I didn’t think it was permanent. I know I kept everything boxed up and ready to move back in. A month, Alex. I lived out of a duffel bag for a month.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t done with this, with you, with us. I wasn’t and I’m not.”

Alex just stared at him, unable to come up with a reply. Michael stared back, his breath a little uneven. When Alex didn’t say anything, he stood up and moved closer until he was right in front of him. Alex had to crane his neck back to look him in the eyes but it was worth it. Michael hadn’t looked at him like that in months, not even on those days when he didn’t remember or know yet. “Michael...”

Michael slowly reached down and cupped Alex’s face. “I love you, Alex. And you love me. And it’s enough. Everything else is just...” he shook his head. “It’s not easy and it’s not perfect but it’s us. And that’s all I care about.”

“Fuck,” Alex cursed lowly. “I do. I do love you.”

Michael smiled. “I know.”

“I don’t know how to fix this though,” Alex continued. He pulled Michael down until he was sitting on the coffee table in front of Alex. “I remember the fight that broke us and as much as we talk about it and you write it in your journal, I don’t know how to move past it when you don’t remember it. I don’t-”

“We’ll figure it out. Kyle and Liz are doing their research thing to figure out what fried my brain. They’ll come up with an answer and we’ll go from there.”

Alex closed his eyes. “And if they don’t? If this is permanent?”

Michael was quiet for a moment. “Is that a deal breaker? Do I have to have my memory for us to be together?”

“Normally I would say no. We can always make new memories together but this wasn’t a small thing, Michael. I don’t know if I can be the only one in this who remembers it.”

Michael swallowed thickly and nodded. “Okay. Well. Let’s cross that bridge if we come to it.”

Alex wanted to protest. He knew it wasn’t that easy, but he also knew he was done fighting about it tonight. “I’ve missed you,” he admitted quietly.

“I’ve missed you too.” Michael moved from the coffee table to the couch next to Alex.

Alex rolled his eyes. “As far as you’re concerned we were together yesterday. Hell we were still together this morning.”

“I know. It’s weird. I still missed you though.” Alex closed his eyes and leaned against Michael’s shoulder and soaked in his warmth for a bit.

“You should go,” he finally said when his eyes were getting droopy. “You should go to Max or Isobel’s.”

Michael sighed but got up without complaint. “I’ll see you soon.”

Alex’s lips twisted in a wry grin. “If you say so.” Michael smiled back at him and kissed him softly on the forehead before leaving.

---

Every day for the next couple of weeks, Michael stopped by after dinner. Alex wasn’t sure where he was keeping his journal these days but he was pretty diligent about keeping it up to date and reading it. If Alex hadn’t known that he was still having the same memory issues he would have thought he was starting to form new memories.

It was still odd for Alex, to have conversations about Michael with Michael only without Michael knowing the context. He’d tried to explain the fight more fully but he would never be able to tell Michael what he’d been thinking or feeling during it or why he’d stormed out that night or why he hadn’t put up a fight when Alex suggested he move out. But still there were talking and it was more than they’d had in a while.

Maria’s words still echoed in his ears sometimes and his file sat on his desk like a beacon of Max’s interference but they were starting to deal with it. Michael still slept at Max or Isobel’s because Alex couldn’t stand to have that first conversation with him in the morning; the one time Michael had tried sleeping in the guest room, the morning after had been painful. It was one thing to see Michael after he’d read his journal and come to grips with everything, it was another thing entirely to see Michael as he was months ago. Before.

One night, Michael came over early enough for them to eat dinner and dragged Alex out to the Crashdown. They hadn’t been out together in months by that point and they garnered a few looks from people who had noticed their breakup but no one said anything to them, not even Liz or Rosa. Alex had forgotten how nice it was to just be out with Michael and he lost track of what was going on around them while they ate.

Maybe that was why he didn’t notice.

Maybe that was why it wasn’t until there was a gun pointed at Rosa’s head for him to realize there was a problem.

It was Liz’s voice, sharp and pained and anxious, that got Alex’s attention. He tore his gaze from Michael, a smile still on his lips, and turned to see his friends. A hush fell over the diner as others noticed the gun. Alex saw hands going for cell phones everywhere, a low whisper starting up as customers called 911, but Alex only had eyes on the gunman.

He was saying something to Rosa. Alex didn’t know what, his Spanish had always been awful, but he didn’t care. What he cared about was that the man’s finger was on the trigger and he looked prepared to shoot. Alex slowly rose from his seat. Michael grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him back down, his own hand reaching out to move the gun but Alex stilled him and shook him off. There was no way Michael could reveal his powers in front of everyone and there was no way Alex was sitting on his ass while someone threatened his friends.

Alex was thankful he’d brought his crutch with him today; the device fooled people into thinking he wasn’t a threat. Leaning heavily on it, he made his way to Rosa’s side.

“Fuck off,” the man said to him. His gun didn’t waver from Rosa’s head, though, and Alex ignored him.

“Rosa, you okay?” Alex asked quietly. Rosa shot him an incredulous look but didn’t say anything, her eyes flicking back to the gun quickly.

Behind the gunman, customers were starting to duck out the door. The man didn’t pay them any attention so more hurried out. They stayed quiet though so Alex ignored them. “I’m not sure what’s going on here,” Alex said, “but it doesn’t need to end badly. Just put the gun down and walk away.”

The man sneered at him. “Just walk away? That’s not how this works.” His attention was on Alex now and his aim wavered. On Rosa’s other side, Liz started to pull her away from the man. She made it two steps before his attention snapped back to her, the gun moving back to her face. While it was in motion, Alex moved. He hit the man with the full force of his body and drove them both to the floor.

The gun went off.

Rosa screamed.

Alex punched the man across the face with his crutch and watched his body go limp.

“Alex!” Michael yelled.

That was when Alex noticed the pain. It bloomed from a spot in the left side of his chest. He had barely felt it when hands gripped him tight and rolled him onto his back. “Shit,” Liz cursed. She pressed both hands on Alex’s chest and pushed until Alex cried out. “Rosa, get me something to stop the bleeding.”

Michael’s hands were on his face and then Alex was staring up into his eyes. “That didn’t go as I intended.”

“I fucking hope not!” Liz lifted a hand to grab something from Rosa and Michael’s hand replaced it immediately.

“What happened!” Jenna called in from the doorway.

“Alex got shot,” Liz called back. “The guy’s out cold.”

“Alright hold on, I can send in EMS.”

“Wait!” Liz and Rosa yelled in unison. “Get them back!” Liz added. Alex wondered why until he saw the strange glow emanating from his chest, or more specifically, emanating from Michael’s hand on his chest.

“Jesus Christ Guerin it’s the middle of the day!” Jenna huffed before leaving to get any and all possibly witnesses as far away as she could.

“Come on, Alex,” Michael urged. The glow got brighter and Alex felt his pain go away.

When it was nearly gone, Alex pushed Michael’s hand off. “Stop. You can’t collapse just yet and there has to be something to explain the gunshot and all the blood.”

“You got shot,” Michael panted, already exhausted.

“I’m okay,” Alex promised.

There was a sound at the doorway. “We got incoming,” Rosa warned. A moment later EMS and police swarmed into the diner and pulled Michael away from him.

---

It was the next day before the doctors (Kyle) and police let him go. Michael was already at his house when he got home.

Alex was about to reassure him that he was fine before he realized that Michael wouldn’t remember. “Michael-”

“You were wearing a blue sweater,” Michael cut him off.

Alex blinked. “What?”

“The night we had that fight. You were wearing a blue sweater. It looked amazing on you.”

“You remember-”

“Forrest bought it for you.” Michael pressed forward. He hadn’t gotten up from the couch, his body seemingly frozen in place. “That’s what set me off. I was pissed at Max and I felt guilty for not telling you why and it had been a shit week at work and I was drunk and you were wearing a sweater that Forrest gave you and it was the thing that tipped me over the edge.” He finally looked up at Alex. “I remember everything. And I’m sorry. I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have said and if I could take them back I would but I can’t so we’re going to move forward.”

“How?” Alex exhaled.

Michael nodded at him and pressed a hand over the left side of his chest, a mirror of where Alex’s wound had been. Alex didn’t need to tug his shirt out of the way to see the handprint there but he did it anyway. “Our minds are linked right now and it, I don’t know, jump started my memory or something. I don’t really care how, honestly, I just care that I remember.”

Alex walked over and eased into the chair opposite Michael. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I said things I shouldn’t have too and I wish I could take it back. Also I probably could have behaved better when you didn’t have your memory. I was a little-”

“Alex, no, I can’t imagine what it was like for you to have to deal with a me who didn’t remember and acted like nothing had happened. I don’t blame you for anything.”

“Still-”

“No,” Michael shook his head. “No more apologies. There’s only one thing I think we needed to apologize for and we’ve already done that. Now we can focus on moving forward.”

Alex looked at him carefully. “Why didn’t you go back to the Airstream?”

Michael let out a breath. “Because that would have been admitting it was over and I couldn’t do that. I was just...waiting I guess. Waiting for us both to cool down, to be able to talk about it. Admittedly, it was taking longer than I expected. The day of the accident I meant to go over to the Airstream to see if it was habitable but I didn’t quite make it there.”

“Probably for the best.”

“Yeah?”

Alex hummed. “Would’ve made packing it all up again a pain.”

Michael arched an eyebrow. “Just like that?”

Alex snorted. “No. But it’s not just like that, Michael, we’ve been talking for weeks. I’m not saying jump back in like nothing ever happened but I think we’re at the point where we can both acknowledge that we’re not done, we’re not over.”

“We’re never going to be done,” Michael agreed.

“Maybe you stay with Max or Isobel for a few more weeks,” Alex suggested. Michael didn’t look too pleased about that. “Or maybe you don’t.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I have a guest room,” Alex reminded him.

Michael turned to look over his shoulder at said guest room. “You do,” he agreed.

“I also have a really nice bed.”

Michael turned back to him, a smile stretching across his face. “You do.”

“And I really hate sleeping alone.”

Michael laughed softly. “You do.”

“We still have a lot to talk about and deal with,” Alex cautioned.

“We do,” Michael agreed. “But it’s been a very rough few months and you got shot and almost died in my arms yesterday so can we talk about it tomorrow?” He looked weary for a moment before he straightened his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “Tomorrow sounds good.”

[datawyrms]

snap

It is The Day I post my Invisobang fic! it was a wild ride to write everything and not post. This is actually the second fic I did, as the first fell into my pit of ‘i hate it now’ and will sit in limbo for the rest of eternity. I teamed up with Spirit ( @ghostportals ), who has done some accompanying art! That, and Red @redead-red saved my bacon by doing some betaing last moment, so tell em they’re great too. Hope you’re all enjoying the flood of finished fics and art this week! Only the first chapter is here, the rest is posted on my Ao3 and complete. hope you enjoy!

One careless fall changed Danny's life forever. He was kind of hoping one fall like that was enough for any lifetime. Clearly fate disagreed.

It's fine though! He's got this. He's fine. He can totally explain why he ran off with his own body to mom and dad.

The stairs had always been a little too steep, a titch too narrow, but he was used to them. Jazz worried too much- the whole Fenton family knew how to take them two steps at a time. He wasn’t going to admit she might have a point just because he’d slipped one time. He wished there was a railing to catch himself with- it would have spared him some of the pain of his head knocking on the stair.

It didn’t hurt that much. Plenty of ghosts hit harder, and far more frequently.

“Took a bit of a spill eh, Danno?”

Great, dad saw him slip like he was three again. He wanted to speak, wave his behemoth of a father off before he got tangled up in some long lecture about whatever they were working on down here. Just had to sit up.

He was a little stunned or something. All those late nights made his limbs rebel when he wanted them to hurry up. Come on, before he tries to help and accidentally shaves his hair off with some anti-ghost stepladder or something.

His arms stubbornly rejected his internal horror story. His attempt to say ‘I’m fine’ was more a gurgle than anything. Way to go, Fenton. Do everything to get dad to worry! Really using those genius genes. Jazz probably stole his anyway, or they got fried in the accident. Come on! A bit of self berating should have him sitting bolt upright by now. Maybe his arm twitched. He felt something move, anyway. More like a muscle spasm.

“Danny? You okay?” The large man came closer, his usual jog slowed.

Of course he’s fine. He could see dad, sort of. He totally moved his eyes to see him better, even. Stupid ghost powers were just acting up.  It’s okay,  just give me a second to stand up. You’re worrying over nothing.

 Jack had already made it over, crouching to get a better look at his fallen son. Like he was trying to look smaller or something with how carefully he was moving. Where was all that slow, ginger movement when he was driving? Or trying to tell them about some new invention that might burn off your eyebrows?

 I’m fine, dad. He couldn’t get the words to come out, but he was just fine. He really didn’t like the strange look on his father’s face. After all, ‘Jack Fenton doesn’t know the meaning of the word fear’ or whatever random thing he felt like shouting when chasing after entities from another dimension. Come on dad, stop looking like that. It was creeping him out. Moving should be easy, a snap, but part of him didn’t feel like doing it. Apparently an important part? He could visualize exactly what to do, but he wasn’t sitting up. He swore he could feel his muscles clenching but not finishing the movement. Maybe they were testing something down here that just made all the ectoplasm hiding inside him take a nap. His ectoplasm was so fired after this.

 “Can you look at me kiddo?”

 Coaxing him. This was weird. Why wasn’t he just hauling him off the floor and laughing about how clumsy he was at his age too? Looking at him was easy. Pretty hard to miss him, with all the bright orange.

 “Maddie? Can you come over here?” His question was strangely stilted, not much of a bellow.

 Dad was going to get the wrong idea because his body didn’t want to cooperate. Great. Fantastic. He could feel the warmth in his chest, the sign his heart was still going. He was just fine, just a bit inconvenienced at the moment. Why couldn’t dad just be  dad  and do something dumb like pick him up with one hand while sounding way too excited about some new tool that he built?

 “What’s wrong?” His mom said, her footsteps doing the same thing dad’s had. Speed that suddenly cut down to almost nothing. “Danny, did you hit your head?”

 “I think he might have, he’s not responding. I didn’t want to try to move him-“

 “You did great Jack, it’s okay.”

 Gross. He hoped they didn’t get caught up in one of their lovey dovey circles while he was stuck trying to get his stupid legs to remember how to do things. He was responding! He groaned, and he definitely twitched a bit. Weren’t they paying attention? He tried again, a bit more forcefully and ignoring the pang in his neck. More of a jolt from someone with too much static cling than actual pain, really.

 “Should I call 911? He isn’t moving! He just stayed there- didn’t even act all tough for his old man!”

 Jack was panicking.  Dad was panicking. Over nothing! Why wasn’t mom distracting him with fudge or some random study? No one was being normal today. Danny shuddered, he knew he did, it went with the pulse under his skin.

 “That’d be great sweetie, just stay close.”

 “In case you need my big strong arms to help carry him, right?”

 “Just in case.” She wasn’t wearing the hood of her jumpsuit, at least.

 It didn’t make it more comfortable when she crouched down, biting her lip and staring at him. Like this was concerning. It was the opposite of that, he was a klutz, a gangly teenager, it was normal for him to be a bit banged up. This shouldn’t concern her, or anyone. The only reason it bugged him was the not being able to move right now nonsense.

 “You aware in there sweetie?” she said, rather loudly and clapping near his ear.

  Yes I am, but I can’t tell you. Maybe he could focus on taking a breath and it would kick off whatever turned off his mind to body connection. Had he done anything strange before coming down here? Not really. He could absolutely feel her digging her nails into his earlobe though, ow! More motivation to move, but something wasn’t getting across. Maybe he was getting a bit freaked out about it too. Only because of his parents being weird. He was fine, he had to be fine. It was nothing, less than nothing.

 “I’m just going to make sure he’s still breathing Jack, do you have anyone on the line yet?”

 A loud response, but not to her question. “No it’s not a ghost emergency! It’s a human emergency!”

 Of course he was breathing. He couldn’t look that bad from such a small fall. Just breathe out the words ‘Hey mom, personal space’ and they’d laugh and it’d be nothing. All this fussing was making his skin crawl but of course he had to have ‘special ghost freezing up’. Was it his ice powers? Like he could get his powers being snarky like that, appreciated it in a twisted sort of way- but it would be better around people who wouldn’t assume the worst? Like anyone else. Even Dash.

 “Tell the operator he isn’t breathing.” Maddie’s voice was cold and controlled, even as she went back to biting her lip right after.

 He was totally breathing. He could feel the air that ran in and out of his lungs, the swell and fall that other ghosts knew as a weak point, a way to slow him down. He knew what being doubled over, air shoved right out of him from a harsh blow felt like, how it felt like the portal again. Throat twitching, body heaving and trying to regain what it lost. The darkness that bit at the edges of his vision as every nerve went screaming  You’re Dying . Hated that feeling, shook the ghosts who did that hard once they were in a thermos. This was nothing like that.

 “He isn’t breathing, you need to hurry! My wife knows CPR- just tell them to hurry this is my  son , please”

 Yelling to hide the quaver in his voice. Like a kicked puppy yelping. It sounded so wrong. This was going to be so awkward after. They’d just...pretend this never happened, right? That’d be for the best. No, he was going to get grounded forever for some ‘dumb prank’, since he was fine and worried them so much. Which didn’t seem too bad if it stopped all of...this.

 He moved a little. A toe, he was pretty sure. More notably was his mother, carefully getting him off the uneven stair to be flat on his back. Trying to keep his head from moving, and she couldn’t see he was looking at her? When she was this close? Too busy trying to be calm. Who could be busy enough to think he wasn’t breathing or tracking with his eyes? Another twitch, another inward curse that he couldn’t get back in control.

 “Just hold on, help is coming.” She said, but the half ghost couldn’t tell who she meant, exactly. Him, dad or herself? Either way the quiet remark did not prepare him for the sheer force slammed into his crest. Like she wanted to slam right through him! Was it so much to ask that his parents stop nearly killing him by trying to help? Just try moving again and everything will be fine.

 He couldn’t keep the mental mantra up when he heard- when he felt his ribs crack from the pointless force. She was killing him, he didn’t need help breathing, he had to get it through to them no matter how much his body buzzed and resisted his need to move. He had to focus and push through it, ignoring how cold and wrong it felt, how it seemed like he was squirming free of something that didn’t want him to go.

 Her bone crushing assault stopped once he got his arm up, not even needing to touch her before she froze. The fear was wrong, out of place so he redoubled his efforts, twisting and struggling against himself, the sticky mass that wasn’t letting him act or speak to calm them down.

 The phone hit the floor. He heard it. So why didn’t dad say anything? Danny twisted, wanting to make sure he was okay. Still stuck. At least he had a hand free and most of an arm, the edges of his fingers tracing the tiles of the floor. He could brace himself that way, pushing down hard to try and jar his shoulder loose. He could hear air moving, like a harsh breath out. Good- breathing was good. Even when it sounded so harsh and low. 

 “Jack- are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Maddie moved back, giving him the space he wanted ever since she’d cracked his ribs. They still stung under his skin, hissing at him to keep his parents away before he managed to get even more injuries over something so silly.

 “I’m not sure what we’re seeing.” The phone remained on the floor.

 That didn’t seem right. He’d sat up, mostly. Half sat up, propped up with an arm. Still mostly stuck and uncomfortable, the snapping and crackling sensation still clinging to his free shoulder. Really, he felt worse than how he started. at least there wasn’t pain in ‘hah my body is playing freeze tag without me’ land. The pulling sensation made his head ache and vision swim to the point he wasn’t actually sure if he was still looking at the ceiling or not. He couldn’t go back to just being frozen though, that’d suck. So just convince the rest of himself to get up. No problem!

Were lies in his head always this unconvincing? It felt like yanking himself free of a too sticky slime, strands clinging and tugging back until they finally snapped, parts still stuck but free of the main mass. At least ectoplasm had the decency not to stretch when you got drenched in it most of the time.  Come on, focus and keep it together.  He let out a wheeze as the last stubborn strands snapped, ignoring how loud it sounded to properly reorient himself.

 Sitting up, properly, good! Parents staring with weird, half horrified expressions: bad. Very, very bad. 

“I’m okay, I just fell.” Danny spoke, he could speak properly again. So why? “Sorry for scaring you guys?” He tried again, trying to ignore the first thought across his mind.

 They kept staring. Maddie seemed to be recovering, shoulders starting to relax, but she seemed to be reaching for her belt.

 He didn’t sound right. No, that wasn’t quite right, he just sounded wrong for Danny  Fenton. Who he should be right now, he hadn’t been able to talk, let alone go ghost. This probably looked really, really bad. How had he switched, anyway?

Mom was reaching for a gun, wasn’t she? Crud. Now he regretted talking at all, how was he going to explain why Danny Phantom was treating two ghost hunters like his parents? Or how he managed to look like their kid. Maybe he could change back and convince them they were seeing things?

Yeah no, that was way too dumb.

 “Wait.” Jack rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder, causing her to stop pulling the weapon. He wasn’t looking at the ghost at all, just her. Maddie remained stiff, not able to ignore the glowing kid on her floor.

 Okay...dad was usually the gung ho one. Maybe he could get away with this? Danny tried to get a better grip on the situation. Felt a new pain, sharp and cold in his throat. Deep green scars clashed against his white gloves and ran all across his jumpsuit,  glow intensifying as the panic choked him into silence. Fresh and angry like back- back before he managed to stumble out of the portal when he died when the accident happened.

With his human arms just as scared below them, still against the tile. The damage looked old, half scabbed over with only a dull glow deep in the death marks wounds. His arms attached to the rest of his body- that he was half out of. 

 Why? How was his body still and silent while he was sitting and looking at it. He’s cold. His body is cold. It isn’t  breathing  there isn’t some other facet of his personality sitting behind the dull blue eyes. This isn’t how it works! If he splits, it’s just temporary, he can fix it but his other half- corpse is wrong.

The pulling and clinging at his legs doesn’t feel like slime anymore. Rotting flesh that wants to drag him back, smother him in a cloying warmth that will only remind him why it burned, how it hurt. He had to move, he couldn’t stay half like this, it would get better once it wasn’t like this.

It didn’t want to let go as he tried to pull away, ectoplasm getting snagged on every nerve and muscle fiber, each pause a reminder of the shock and pain of his end that day.

He knew he screamed when he pulled free and slammed into the wall, furious green scars still marring his jumpsuit where there should be none.

 What would Mom and Dad think?

 No no no no no. He spotted movement from them and acted. He couldn’t let his mom break his body more, or look at it too closely. Dad couldn’t see what happened! This was fine, he could fix this!

 He grabbed his corpse and fled through the wall.

[peeterparkr]

red; tom’s version|two.

chapter two: the lucky one. “You don’t feel pretty, you feel used”

pairing: Tom Holland x Reader story summary: you’re reminiscing through your relationship a month after the heartbreak and breakup. Wondering if it went wrong from the very start when Tom arrived at New York, and him being a cautionary tale or if the problems came along the way. Perhaps the key to find back your way to him is going back through the nice things before the heartbreak came. Or is it too painful to go all over again?

chapter summary: bottle caps, a red scarf and two coincidences that probably mean something warnings: angsty a bit, cussing, word count: 6.7k playlist (updated after each chapter, including Red songs+ other for the chapter): Spotify | Apple Music

fic masterlist previous chapter next chapter

Present day. One month after the breakup.

Tom knew he had to stay quiet. Or rather, there was barely anything he could say while he was plotting his next words. He could barely believe he had a chance.

Walking down the streets with her quietly as he saw her, arranging her own thoughts. She had agreed to listen.

And he knew it was because whatever they’d felt, it made it worth it.

Y/N was angry. Not sad, angry. He had expected her to be crying. He didn’t want to be the reason why she would and he tried thinking he wasn’t. Though, deep inside, he was perfectly aware that he would be blamed for the tears that she’d shed in the last few months.

He wasn’t proud of that.

Guilt blinds. And Tom was blind in an attempt to shield. It was easier to shield on his own excuses that would serve barely as a plea to forgiveness.

Glares were directed at him. Her jaw was clenched and she had crossed her arms. The moment she’d realized what she’d agreed to, she’d turned stiff.

“Aren’t you cold?” Tom had tried asking.

“I don’t wish to speak to you.”

Fair.

And it was the middle of the night once again, how many times had they not walked under the stars with barely a destiny to reach. And now he was walking to his doom.

Y/N was mental.

In a good way. But the girl had taught him how insane you can be when it comes to relationships. In the best way possible, not as an insult.

Tom knew that he had fucked up. And he had been in New York for a while, though he hadn’t spoken to her directly, knowing that approaching her would only wound her.

It was colder now, Christmas was barely around the corner. In any other circumstance, it would’ve added to the romance.

Here it was just a bad omen of whatever would come next. The lights flickered as soon as they were walking past them.

“Are—are we not going to talk?” Tom questioned anyway. “I thought—“

Y/N shrugged. “I’m still deciding it, you see, I don’t know if I want to listen to you break my heart in an attempt of forged honesty.”

Tom dug his hands in his pockets. “I genuinely want to apologize.”

“And I genuinely don’t like you,” she snapped. “You see my problem?”

Tom sighed. “Fine,” he gulped. “But you are cold, that thing isn’t covering your neck or chest.”

Y/N had gone for a rather inadequate option for a cold winter day. Though Tom would agree that the black dress had been yet another punch to his stomach, all of course with an attempt to make him regret it, it was still rather unsuitable for the freezing city. But she looked stunning.

Her coat barely covered her, and her crossed arms were probably more of an attempt to warm herself and it served as a clear exposition of her anger.

She didn’t answer, however.

“You could wear this,” Tom offered, showing her the red scarf that once belonged to her. Tom liked to think that it now belonged to them.

The red scarf that had become a token to their relationship. From the very first day.

Y/N looked at it, and reluctantly took it. “It’s only because I’m cold.”

But Tom wanted to think it wasn’t only because of that. Wearing the scarf meant she was opening a door for him.

Seeing her again had been quite different from what Tom had expected, her hair was different and her makeup too. Her gaze seemed lost.

Whoever was standing beside him didn’t seem like her. She was a stranger, a very familiar one. But there wasn’t that visible spark that he’d fallen for. Not that he wouldn’t be able to love the figure in front of him but he feared he was the reason for its disappearance.

“It smells like you,” y/n whispered as she wrapped the scarf around her neck.

Tom smiled, briefly. “I’ve been wearing it. Your own smell wore out,” he regretted saying that. “That sounded way too creepy or cheesy.”

“Both, somehow,” she agreed. “Don’t ever say that kind of shit again.”

Tom gulped a chuckle, “noted.”

There was still that y/n in there, the one that liked the kind of cheesy things that he could say. The ones that came up at the right moment. Though, there was still that y/n that didn’t take any bullshit.

Tom hadn’t gone exactly through diamonds and sparkles after the breakup. And the city was now quite different from when it had first received him. Now covered with dark smoke and trash, with only skeletons of trees.

Guilt drowns. And Tom was, undoubtedly, drowning in a drought. Everything had dried off yet he felt like he could barely breathe.

Knowing you’re the reason for someone’s hurt is no fantasy.

And he was broken, too. Very, very broken. However, he knew he was seen as the bad guy here and he wouldn’t call himself less, and he wouldn’t admit he was aching too.

So he was trying to ignore it.

Her apartment building hadn’t changed. Not that Tom had expected it to, but it was nice to come to a familiar place. He noticed the stairs were still rusty and unclean and creaked as he walked in. New creaks had come in that he hadn’t memorized yet. He hoped he would have the chance to.

Y/N stopped at her door, with more questions than answers to give him.

“I really don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted to him. “But I know that if I don’t give you a chance to explain yourself I’ll never forgive myself.”

“That’s fair. But…I’ll do whatever you want me to, but please let me explain it to you,” he begged. “I—If you want me to leave New York and never come again I’ll understand.”

Y/N crossed her arms and leaned against the door, a red door that would open to memories he couldn’t quite forget.

“I already said I would listen,” she recalled. “But—“ her eyes met his, they looked tired. “I am having an inner monologue on why this is stupid.”

“Care to share?”

She took a heavy breath, “Well, you see, Tom, if that even is your real name…”

“Really? You’re—“Tom tried hard not to roll his eyes. “Yes, my name is Tom.”

“Tom….”

“Holland.”

“Hm, interesting. Holland, I remembered it being something else. You’re a liar, just making sure,” she said. “I’m—I just feel stupid. Because I shouldn’t be feeling this way for such a short relationship, is that even—was it? Can we even call it that?”

Her words felt bitter to Tom’s own tongue. He understood why she was defensive. “Yes.”

“Well, I don’t fucking know, maybe we confused whatever we were feeling with love, or—“

“I didn’t—“

“Could be easy, Tommy, you’re an actor, actors, as far as I know, act, and man did you play such an amazing role,” she snarled as she opened her door, leading the way. “Be quiet, by the way, I don’t want to wake up Lula or Jules.”

Tom walked in into what seemed a messed snapshot of how he remembered the place. It was the same, in essence. But sadder. The apartment still had a few sweaters here and there, and y/N’s notebooks all over it.

He could see Lula’s leftovers in their coffee table and some candy wraps that Julia had probably been eating while reading her book.

He turned to that one corner and saw it, the jukebox that had been what had defined y/n’s and his relationship. He dug his hand into his pocket to search for the locket y/n had given back. Tom squeezed it as he searched in his pocket for something else.

Guilt kills. And Tom was dying.

“Here,” Tom said as he reached out for three beer caps in his pocket, “I brought these to you,” he offered them to her, knowing there were jars full of them.

Y/N collected them. Or rather, it was her latest collection that she’d later use for her art. Or whatever she was into at the moment.

The apartment was small. It had two bedrooms which they all shared. They’d rotate whoever had the luck to have the single room. So small. And yet it felt so big.

Y/n pursed her lips but then took the beer caps and placed them on the counter.

“We’re going to the roof,” y/n said. “I’m just getting us some wine—No,” she shook her head, probably realizing that having wine would make the moment a tad more romantic or cuddly than she expected it to be. “Make yourself useful and make some tea, I’ll go change myself, I’m freezing.”

She’d brought blankets and a hoodie he hadn’t remembered he had left. They didn’t have to go to the roof, Julia was staying with Matt and Lula was not back yet from wherever she was.

She had stayed quiet, for a bit. Cuddled up in the same couch where they—

“Do you like your tea?” Questioned Tom.

She looked up. “Yeah, you can add that to your many talents. Right before lying.”

“I make better tea than lies? Good to know.”

Y/N shrugged. “How long have you been here?”

“A… few days,” Tom admitted. “I have been trying to walk up to your door but I keep getting lost in the subway, and when I did come here I panicked and cried.”

Y/N shrugged. “I thought I saw you, the other day,” she said.

“Oh?”

“It wasn’t you,” y/n confessed. “So I just yelled at a poor stranger. I—I genuinely feel sorry for him.”

Tom tried not to chuckle. “What did you yell?”

“I called him a bastard and asked what was wrong with him,” she scrunched her nose. “Not my proudest moment. I was kicked out of the bus.”

Tom gulped. “I’m sorry,” he took a deep breath. “You can yell at me if that helps.”

She shrugged. “No, I think I’m good, I let it all out with him,” she grimaced. “But I might just—“she picked up a pillow and threw it at him with barely any energy.

“Fair enough,” he nodded. “But I can be your punching bag, I deserve it,” he admired. “I see the jukebox,” Tom said, motioning to it.

She shrugged. “Yeah, would be stupid if you didn’t. It’s quite big. Barely any space left.”

Tom chuckled. “I meant—“

“No, no, I know what you mean. I’m trying to ignore it,” y/n admitted. “I notice it too, every day. Almost threw it away.”

Tom nodded. “Why didn’t you?”

“Well, it’s a very functional jukebox, the music on it,” she said. “It would be stupid to throw out something like that.”

Tom had expected a different answer, one rather more romantic. Like, that maybe throwing it out would’ve meant throwing him away.

“Right. I’m surprised the cops haven’t come for it.”

She smiled.

She… smiled?

She smiled.

Tom hadn’t thought he would see it again. So comforting. And genuine. Not forced.

“It’s not stolen,” she reminded him, “not really.”

Tom decided to smile back, but to himself. He couldn’t really look her in the eye.

“I guess I also kept it for the same reason why you kept that stupid scarf,” y/n added. Quieter now.

Tom took a deep breath. “It’s a fashionable accessory.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “It’s been out of fashion for 10 years.”

“Trends come back.”

Y/N looked up. “Not when they're horrible, no,” she said with a heavy breath. “I don’t—“She shook her head. “No, we can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Tom questioned.

“Talk like you didn’t break my heart,” she snarked, gulping down her thoughts. “I always knew your heart never truly belonged to me, you know?” y/n said, holding to her mug. The tea was probably cold now. As so were they.

Tom was taken aback by that statement. “I—at the beginning—“

“No, it never truly did. Not completely.”

“I—“ but Tom didn’t have an answer to it.

The night was cold and New York was still awake. But it felt like it was them and only them even if they felt like oceans apart. He hated it. The first time he’d ever been truly lucky he had run out of luck.

Y/N watched him. “I always knew it was meant to be for a short time and I didn’t need anything more, I somehow knew that you’d hurt me,” she explained.

Tom had never meant to go this far. “I never meant—“

“Imagine if you had meant it though, how crushed would I have been. It wasn’t your intention, and yet I ended up crying on the floor,” she said, ironically

Tom couldn’t say more but an “I am so sorry.”

“I know you are,” she said. “I hope you are.”

Tom stared at her, “I am.”

Y/N directed him a single glance. “I don’t think you understand, Tom. This month has been the shittiest in my life.”

Tom didn’t have enough words to apologize. Or he had too many to say. Instead, he could word out anything.

“The worst part is that you also gave me the best fucking days of my life,” she continued. “So I’m at a crossroads here. Because there’s a part of me that thinks it was all bullshit and there’s also the part that knows it couldn’t be.”

Tom watched her. “It was not bullshit,” he said. “It was real.”

“That’s the worst part,” she pointed out. “I think, yeah, all of it being real then it makes it hurt even more because that means I lost the best thing to ever happen to me and you lost something so real.”

Tom nodded. “I lost the best thing to ever happen to me, too.”

Y/N was, without a doubt, the best thing he’d never looked for.

“Did you lose it because of me? Or did you lose me?” She quickly questioned, raising her brows.

Y/N was also a murderer.

“Well,” she took a deep breath, ignoring his sight as he was trying to know how to Answer. “You better start explaining yourself.”

“Before I—I… I… Right, well—Before I came here—I—Ella—“

She closed her eyes. “Actually, no.”

Tom paused, in fear.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, we will….” Y/N tried arranging her thoughts. “Tell me from the moment you hopped on the plane.”

Tom stayed quiet.

“I need to know how it looked from the moment you arrived, not… before, although I’m risking the fact you’re an unreliable narrator.”

“I am a terrible narrator,” he admitted.

Two months before the breakup. Tom’s version.

Tom remembered how little it had taken him to make the decision to escape. He had decided to escape from what everyone told him he should love.

With a backpack, his passport and a half ass made suitcase, he had hopped on the first flight to New York. No regrets as it had taken off. Sweet Escape airlines had been so kind to him.

Not telling anyone about it. To their eyes, he probably was only late to a party, and they’d see him in a few minutes with an excuse of an apology.

Yet, he was on a plane. Escaping from the perfect life.

They always said how lucky he was. Didn’t they? How incredible it was to have what he had. Because he had everything.

And he was running away from it. He watched the people on the plane, his seat was unflattering, next to an old lady who seemed to be rather impolite.

He remembered when he had made the decision to run out, the night before, a camera flash had blinded him and time had suddenly stopped. Just a few hours before hopping on the plane. Everyone expected him to do something he was not ready for. Everyone thought it would come.

Even Eleanor.

Especially Eleanor. Ella was probably counting only the minutes for his arrival. He had promised her he would be there.

No one could ever judge Tom for the decision he had made. Well, everyone would. But Tom liked to believe they couldn’t. As a technicality, that is. That they had absolutely no right to do it.

His parents wouldn’t be proud of it. Too bad.

Tom was nervous, though. The decision had been, undoubtedly, rushed. He hadn’t shown up to that early brunch.

Still wearing a suit, with a white buttoned shirt unbuttoned on his neck. He had still almost gone to that brunch in that FancyAss restaurante.

A brunch? He thought to himself. How incredibly out of character it seemed, he had become a caricature of whatever they wanted him to be.

Did he have to apologize to Eleanor? He didn’t want to.

He really didn’t want to.

He looked at his phone, Harry was calling him. A few other texts from his mother, too. Two missed calls from Ella. Probably wondering why he was late. He hoped they didn’t wait for him, for he would never arrive.

New York was a bit far from it.

The whole flight had been him trying to figure out if it was a good choice.

But he was given an ultimatum, and when those come you have to decide.

His decision was to go to New York. And it was the best choice.

It was, of course, but it was alright to doubt it. It was not likely of him to simply run away.

He didn’t have it all figured out. And that’s why he was clutching his backpack. He was chasing a dream that he didn’t even know he had.

Maybe that’s why he was running away. He didn’t know who he was. But of course he had heard it, how he looked like a million bucks. And he had said it to everyone else the night before, how the stars looked like diamonds in the skies.

He was making a name for himself, he knew that. Or rather, they were making a name for him. And he didn’t know who he was.

The flight was rather short, or maybe Tom barely had any time to think about it.

Running away from his own country, from his family, friends and from Ella, whom he barely had a title for right now.

The city was quick to receive him with bustling crowds, people pushing and rushing. But also opening up as he was walking in. Dancing around him.

How magical. He thought to himself as he tried texting Harrison, hoping his best friend wouldn’t mind receiving him at his place.

Tom managed to get a taxi that was waiting right outside the airport.

He hopped in and grinned to himself proudly. He was there.

With a new city ahead of him and no one expecting anything from him. With no one telling him what to do, with no one giving him an ultimatum and no one with orders for him.

“Where to?” Asked the taxi driver, as he stared from the mirror.

Tom, though he was not proud of it, was having a moment. “I’m running away from my life,” Tom explained. “don’t you ever get tired of the role you’re supposed to play? Like you were not meant to play it but now you’re too stuck in it.”

“Man, I'm sorry, I ain’t got no time for that kind of poeticbullshit, I need an address.”

The moment ended quickly. “Right. Sorry. I’m an idiot… uh, it’s this one.” Tom had to look up for Haz’s address.

“Every time,” the driver sighed, chuckling. “Why do y’all think New York is some sort of magical city that will give you the answer to whatever you’re going through.”

Tom’s smile widened sarcastically, “Well, isn’t it?”

“Guess it is, in a way, but I’ll tell you something,” the driver stated, “whatever you think New York will give to you, it'll be the very opposite. It won’t be what you want but it might just be what you need.”

“Oh really?” Tom chuckled, “who’s the one with the poetic crap now?”

“No, I’m messing with you, damn all you tourists believe that kind of thing huh? New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of huh.”

“It’s what we’re sold,” Tom gave in.

“That sounds pretty, don’t it? To not get what you want but what you need.”

“It does.”

In a way, he was right. Tom would’ve thought he needed a break. To escape. That’s what he wanted right?

But what did he need?

The city welcomed him with a short rain, the water reflected the twinkling lights, as the shadows were reflecting the life he had left behind. The people rushed with their coats, as they were off to their lives. And it felt like he was finally breathing.

Although he would not share his thoughts with the driver again, Tom thought this was what he needed. A new start with no one that would judge him.

That’s probably why he’d chosen New York, the people are too busy living their own crazy lives to focus on someone so insignificant like him. He didn’t have to be whoever he was before, the pretty face, the cool guy everyone liked.

No, he was a guy in a stupid cab, and not to be worried if they said he hadn’t chosen a better ride, on a bigger car.

No, no announcement of whatever he was going to do on the papers because his dad had arranged it.

No, now he was but what he always wanted to be. One of those cautionary tales that they tell about people who go mad and escape and live.

He was a legend now.

Maybe they were right, he was lucky. He was lucky because he had finally made it out of there.

And he saw the lights, with Broadway shows waiting for him, with new adventures coming. With a new life that he wanted to create. The Broadway signs changed to Tom’s sight.

‘A very new life for the Lucky One.’ Starring Tom Holland.

A new beginning.

Maybe he was lucky. Though he never wanted to be in the spotlight. He constantly was, though.

Except, of course, for the fact that Haz hadn’t really answered his text the way he wanted to.

Haz probably didn’t believe Tom that he was in the city.

He would just knock at the door then.

“Well man, I hope whatever kind of role you want you get it,” the driver had said as Tom had hopped off.

Harrison’s building was far from fancy. Harrison had often described it as an ‘affordable pigsty’. Tom wouldn’t describe it as anything else.

But it was perfect. The perfect stage for his new charade.

Tom carried the now heavier backpack and suitcase up and was lucky enough that someone had entered the building so he could go up and show up uninvited to Haz’s apartment. If he could call it that.

He knocked, two times and Haz opened the door.

“Piss off, you’re not actually here!” Was the way Haz had decided to greet.

Tom laughed. “I fucking am.”

“You bastard,” Haz grinned before pulling his friend into a hug. “No way, I didn’t believe you. Man, I’m so glad to see you!”

“You too, man your place is…” Tom couldn’t finish.

“A pigsty but it’s home, I’ll make some place.”

And they had.

Haz had left a few years ago, with a dream in his head and a chance to make it. Or… a chance to get a chance to make it.

Leaving London had been quite such a simple decision for him. An inspiring actor that could’ve made it back at home but decided to leave for New York? It was stupid, honestly. Very anticlimactic of him.

But like Tom, Harrison had to escape before he was pulled in.

Just like Tom had been, tangled up. Tom’s ‘big break’ had yet to come but his family had managed to get him to the rising star he was.

He loved what he did, acting was definitely his true passion but not like this. Not buying his way into parts, not going out with someone so he could be considered. Hanging around with the right people just so they could get him a role.

Haz had gone for plays instead, and Tom knew he was fantastic. But he also had to get his big break. The industry had a funny way to say this.

“So, you just left?” Haz asked with a beer in his hand as he’d taken Tom to his favorite bar. Beers were cheaper there, and given that it was a Thursday, the happy hour lasted longer.

The bar was different from what Tom had expected. An old jukebox that was playing odd songs, colorful things. Very odd.

“I bloody just left,” Tom admitted. “What was I supposed to do?”

Harrison rubbed his face, “I dunno.”

“I couldn’t keep pretending,” Tom said, as he played with the bottle. “I—It wasn’t me.”

“But didn’t you just get cast in—something important?” He questioned.

Tom sighed, “Not for talent, no.”

He had seen a girl walk up to the jukebox and pay again to play “Twist and Shout” by The Beatles, she moved her head along to the song.

“Man, who bloody cares?” Haz rolled his eyes bringing the attention back to him. “You’re getting somewhere! You look pretty, you’re cool, and you’re getting somewhere.”

Tom knew where Haz was coming from. Things were going perfectly, one could argue. But it didn’t feel real. It was just a game of make believe where Tom had eventually been dug in.

“It wasn’t that,” Tom admitted. “Ella gave me an ultimatum.”

Harrison stopped, probably now understanding more why he had left. “And how do you feel about that?”

Tom stared at his beer. “Not how I’m supposed to.”

Harrison watched him. “One can only pretend for so long.”

“Yeah,” Tom sighed as he undressed the beer bottle.

“Does anyone know you escaped?” Haz asked.

Tom grimaced, pulling out his phone, turned off. “No, well, Harry knows, I told him I had left but didn’t tell him where to,” he said before unwillingly turning it back on, to show the billion notifications popping up. Multiple text messages, missed calls. “I need a new phone so I can keep this one turned off.”

“I think you should tell someone, otherwise they’re going to call the police or something,” Haz suggested.

Tom sighed, “Before I do let me go get another round,” he said as he headed to the bar.

Though Tom should’ve known right then and there that his life would change, he was very oblivious as he saw a couple. The beautiful girl sitting right beside… some guy. The very same girl who had played ‘Twist and Shout’.

She wasn’t smiling anymore, and Tom could only interpret her stare as something unpleasant. The guy and her were both stiff.

Tom couldn’t blame the guy because he was often criticized for also being like him. Not being able to make the beautiful girl beside him smile. Not understanding her worth and brilliance as anyone else in the room did.

She had dressed up, it seemed, just for her very date and he was just… there. The guy was simply an unuseful accessory adorning her side. His eyes were glued to the TV on the bar, a program that seemed to be very uneventful.

Tom often liked overhearing conversations, and this time wasn’t an exception.

“I recently discovered my new collection,” the girl said. Tom noticed the scarf on her neck,“I will start collecting bottle caps.”

The guy looked over, “Is it going to be for your new project that you’ll never finish?”

“I will finish it,” she said as she took off the scarf, now playing with it, tying and untying it. “And I’m going to ask Ben here to save me as many as he can.”

“Y/N,” the guy said. Pretty name, thought Tom. Fitting. “You never finish them.”

“Art is never finished, William,” the girl, y/n, defended again. “It’s only… abandoned.”

“My point,” The guy, William, rolled her eyes, “You never get through with them.”

“I do,” she defended herself. “You just never pay attention to it.”

Tom watched her frustration. Even then the guy wasn’t really into the conversation. He didn’t blame him, really. But he was more on y/n’s side.

“I think you should pay attention to more important stuff. Instead of wasting your time doing whatever.”

“Art isn't whatever,” she sighed, and then frowned, noticing Tom was watching them.

“I’m not saying it’s whatever, y/n, but you’ve got to have other dreams rather than collecting beer caps.”

Y/N looked away, “It’s for a painting.”

“A painting you’ll get bored of eventually, it’s always the same, y/n,” the guy was still too busy with his own beer watching the TV.

Y/N clenched her jaw but then directed her glance at Tom, still intrigued by the conversation.

Tom cleared his throat as he finally got his beers, the guy opened them for him but Tom asked for the beer caps.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help but listen,” Tom admitted before giving her the beer caps. “Good luck on your project.” The girl finally smiled as the guy accompanying her glared at him.

Tom shrugged and dedicated them both a smile before going back to Harrison. Had Tom been William he would’ve appreciated that someone made his girl smile, it was a waste not to share her smile with the world.

And Tom, out of everyone, understood what the girl had said, people bringing him down were always for him so to have genuine support from a stranger would help her. And him.

Yes never getting anything done but still having a passion for it was accomplishment enough.

“So what’s your plan?” Haz asked as soon as he was back. Tom watched the girl, still.

“I have none,” Tom admitted, watching as y/n and William were still arguing, probably now over the fact that Tom had left the beer caps. He didn’t feel guilty, even when both of them were pointing at him as the argument kept going. “I will just—Get a break for a few days. A well deserved vacation.”

Haz watched him. “Right.”

“You know, be a tourist,” Tom shrugged. “I—I dunno I just needed to get out,” Tom sipped from his bottle as his eyes were glued to the couple, now arguing loudly but not loud enough to be understood.

Haz followed his gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“Dunno, they’re odd,” Tom shrugged. But they weren’t really. He just saw his future, so uninterested to the girl beside him.

“Not really, you should get used to that,” Haz said. “But—You’re going to tell Harry, right!”

“Problem is,” Tom brought back the attention to Haz. “I don’t think Harry will be able to keep the secret.”

Harrison crossed his arms. “What are you really doing here Tom? You do realize that you’re hurting everyone—“

“Yeah, yeah fuck that, I know, I feel guilty. But—I can’t anymore. I couldn’t fucking stay there, not anymore,” Tom snapped. “It’s not Ella’s fault. Well not entirely but—“

“No, I know,” Haz rolled his eyes, “guess the perfect life can get boring.”

Harrison thought so too then. That Tom had the perfect life. How was it perfect? How was it really? Tom was not perfect. He was far from it, nothing about it was spectacular. He wasn’t living. Even though everyone around him thought he was having the time of his life Tom couldn’t help but feel miserable.

He wasn’t getting what he truly wanted. He didn’t enjoy the roles he was getting or the parties he was attending. He was far from what his dream was. And though his ‘breakout’ would come eventually and he’d have the chance to be who he wanted to be, it wasn’t coming any time soon and he doubted that he’d be able to be happy.

Or maybe he would be. He needed a break.

Tom caught up with Haz, his life, his misery and whatever the conversation led to, it’s fair to say that Tom’s head could barely pay any attention. His decision was sinking. He’d escaped his life.

He saw the girl from before leave, with the guy following her with frustration.

“They’re gonna break up,” Haz said watching them too.

Tom saw the girl had left the unfashionable red scarf behind.

He expected them to come back for them but they didn’t.

Eventually, Tom and Haz left. Tom picked up the scarf. He tried to say that it was a little reminder that he’d helped someone. He had actually been drawn to it. He couldn’t explain why. So he kept that idea.

Of course, he’d seen the red scarf and then regretted instantly taking it. Haz had judged him too.

“Why the fuck would you pick up a stranger’s scarf?”

“Because.”

The next day, with very little sleep and a bit of a headache from the jet lag and the beers, and after telling Haz he’d be productive, he decided he wouldn’t be and instead he wanted to visit a museum. Again, he was unsure as to why he wanted to go there. Lately he only followed his instinct.

But then again he had escaped so he could do whatever he wanted, and going to a museum seemed like something they’d never expect him to do. So that’s what he did.

But of course, he didn’t know much about art or anything so he decided he’d end up at the MET. Where else would he start?

He had planned getting on the subway but he decided he didn’t have time to memorize it and he didn’t want to look like an idiot so instead he took another cab. He didn’t tell the drivers this time any poetic bullshit.

When he got to the MET, he was immediately lost. Tom had this stupid habit of never knowing where the hell he was.

He didn’t mind this time. He would take the time to explore, to think to himself. To stare and read and to learn a little.

How ironic it seemed to be at the place where so many people were at. Basic, maybe but he was still enjoying it.

The big walls and endless exhibitions were making him feel small. And he hadn’t felt that way in a while. He liked that.

His path wasn’t being decided and he only followed his heart. He got to the musical instruments exhibitions.

A piano made him stop. It resonated with him. In some sorts, or it was interesting enough for him to make him stop.

“That’s the oldest surviving piano,” a voice mentioned from behind.

Tom blinked, realizing he had stared too long at it. “Oh?” He looked back at the voice and though Tom did not believe in coincidences he couldn’t help but think this was an oddly magical one.

The beer cap girl from the night before.

“Yeah, it dates back to 1538 and was created by—pardon my pronunciation—Bartolomeo Cristofori, the Italian man who is credited with inventing the piano,” she said, staring at it too. Her hair was slightly messed up. Wearing an overall that was covered with slight paint stains, a white cardigan over it.

“Oh, I would’ve never thought that,” Tom said. “It looks old.”

“Yeah,” she hadn’t looked at him, she was too entranced by it, her arms were crossed. “It's very old.”

Tom stared at her instead, how weird it was. He should’ve brought the scarf. No, that would’ve been weird, weirder than taking it.

“So you work here?” Tom questioned.

“No, I’m just incredibly good at lying,” she stated.

“Wha-what?”

“That fact I gave you, yeah that was a lie,” she grinned and finally turned to him. She tilted her head.

“Oh it sounded… very real,” Tom felt like an idiot.

“Yeah, I’ve worked on that for a while, lying to tourists, you’re my first one of the day,” she said. “So, a pleasure lying to someone with an accent.”

“It sounded very real,” Tom cleared his throat.

“I know, it’s a real fact, just slightly twisted,” she grinned. “I gave you the date wrong.”

Tom coughed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, and you straight up believed me,” she grinned. “The date is right there yet you listened to a random weirdo,” she grinned.

Tom blushed, “well, you sounded very—“

“No, don’t feel bad, it’s an art, lying to people,” she grinned.

He nodded in agreement.

She watched him curiously, “Do I know you?”

Tom faked to not recognize her. “I don’t think so.”

She narrowed her eyes, examining him head to toe. Then stopping at his face. “No, wait, were you at Bennie’s Beer Garden last night?”

She had recognized him.

“Uh—I was at a bar,” he decided to fake ignorance. “Oh—“he snapped his finger. “Wait are you—?”

“Beer cap girl, yeah,” she smiled. “Yeah, that was me, but I looked better last night.”

Tom smiled, “No, you look fine.”

“What a coincidence, thanks for the beer caps, by the way,” she chuckled. “How weird, and now you’re the first one I lie to.”

“It’s a pleasure, thank you,” Tom laughed.

“You must think I’m crazy, collecting beer caps and lying to strangers,” she blushed now, stepping back from him.

Tom did think that. In a good way. The girl seemed to be whatever he wanted to be: a fucking weirdo that don’t give two shits about anything in life.

“Surprisingly, no,” Tom shook his head. “I would lie to people instead if I was good at lying.”

Ironic, it seemed. Didn’t he make a living out of lying? Didn’t he technically lie his way through life?

“Yes, it's very tiring work, people say they don’t like being lied to,” she said. “I do, that’s why I love reading whatever is trending on twitter.”

Tom cackled, and turned his attention back to the piano.

“I’m y/n, by the way,” she mentioned casually.

“Tom,” he answered simply.

Y/N nodded. “So, Tom, what's your favorite lie supplier?”

“I watch movies,” he said, “or celebrity gossip.”

“A classic,” Y/N grinned. “Yeah, we all choose the lies we want to believe, I guess.”

“People like that, believing lies and feeling like they’re true,” Tom gave in. “Especially if they’re pretty. They help us escape reality.”

Y/N nodded slowly, and smirked. “We are getting deep now, huh?”

What the fuck did New York do to Tom that he randomly said poetic bullshit to strangers. He was embarrassed. “I—sorry.”

“No, no, I like that,” y/n was excited. “I guess you’re right. Lies are a way to cover something.”

“Yes, sometimes lying means protecting,” Tom bit his lip.

Y/N tilted her head. “Is it really?” She didn’t want to agree. “I would say lying is a way to actively hurt someone.”

“Well, were you trying to hurt me with your lie?” Tom challenged.

She licked her lips, defeated. “In a way,” she gave in. “I was trying to misinform you. So.”

“Well, what if the truth hurts more?” Tom questioned.

Y/N took a deep breath. “Then it’s a paradox.”

“Excuse me,” Someone interrupted them. “I’m sorry, y/n? I thought you weren’t coming today.”

Y/N smiled, “oh yeah, I wasn’t, I just forgot something in my locker and decided to walk around.”

The other guy turned to Tom. “Did she give you a fake fact?”

Tom chuckled, “she most certainly did.”

“Y/N, you can’t keep doing that,” the guy warned her. “You’re gonna get fired.”

Y/N grinned as she watched the guy go.

“I thought you didn’t work here,” Tom chuckled.

Y/N smiled mischievously, “I do, just another lie I said to you. You’re very lucky, two lies in one.”

Tom chuckled. “huh. Yeah, lucky me.”

“Yes, now if you’ll excuse me, little British man,” she grinned. “I’ll go lie to other people, nice lying to you.”

Tom grinned. “Yeah, yeah, nice… believing your lies.”

“Enjoy the Met,” she grinned. “Hope I get to see you again, thanks for the beer caps.”

“Thanks for the… lies,” he said, watching her leave. Maybe he was lucky.

fic masterlist previous chapter next chapter

want to be tagged?(please say it’s for red)

tag list and some friends: @noorrussell @nocturnalms @xxconfettiitsaparade @annathesillyfriend @butterflies-glitter @tomkindholland @the-salty-asian @words-to-accomplish-something @harryhollandsgirlfriend @bibliophilewednesday @tomhollandsbitch8 @boiolay @wizkiddx @spideyssunshine @parkertommy @erodasghosts @onewithnomightypowers @sunflowersandaydreams @tomshufflepuff @uglypastels @lilacsandwhiskey @badhollandfluff @saintlavrents @enilemes @white-wolf1940 @mannien @softholand @youcompletemesk @ughdangs@obiwanownsmyass @sleepingdancer @lonely-sag @n-pg-pw @readheadwriter @parkersroses @petesrparker @watermelonsponge @cherrygoldenn @a-daydreamers-day @marlenetough @mcu-spiderman