#and hanging out with friends enough recently that leaving is always the hardest part of my weekend

[ryteu]

The Parting Glass

The clock once more, as always, chimes the time

And says it's now that I must take my leave;

This merry holiday away, reprieve

From decay, numbing choking, in a lime,

Approaches now its destined apogee;

The fading final hours like violets shrink

Beneath the wrinkled leaves now fallen free

From Springtime boughs already at the brink.

No last song is sung when my time to rise

Has come; only I in sad and silent

Procession stand, my mind made resilient,

And go, hiding the light that in my eyes

No longer shines as I leave it behind

To serve as guide when next I may venture

To break the yoke, escape the snare, unbind

Myself from my ceaseless, senseless torture.

Still draw I ever toward that distant light,

Secure in mind that I will be welcomed

Back again to harbor safe and becalmed,

Though tossed within a dark and storm-wracked night.

There's no voyage I would not undertake

To pursue those beacons that I have left

Behind among those I could ne'er forsake,

For if lost, of all good I'd be bereft.

[orhelponefaintingrobin]

Happy Birthday

Recently, I thought to actually work out and check the day I worked out that there was maybe something a bit more drastic going on with my gender than I thought. Annoyingly, the day was yesterday and I missed it, but that's life I guess.

The 7th March 2019 was, importantly, the day after Ash Wednesday. I'm pretty sure it was the 7th, at least. Technically, it could have been the 8th, but the 7th seems more likely. It was the day I went from vaguely identifying as non-binary and not really changing anything about my life to realising that I'd be way, way happier living as something closer to a woman, even if it's taken most of the four years since to work out the finer details of that. Might even get there at some point.

Since then, the start of Lent has always been the point I reflect on; obviously it jumps around, but it's still the point where I think about that day, and the Sunday after where I went to church and had it spelled out pretty clearly by the big guy that I was on the right track. But the 7th March was the actual date. And normally, that comes with mostly disappointed feelings, disappointment that I still haven't acted on it in any meaningful way, that I'm still where I was back then. But this year, I'm not.

I still have a way to go, I still have to come out to my family, and because of that I still can't get away with more than the occasional day or two presenting more femme. But, I am making progress.

I bought some trousers in the summer for work, primarily to have something that was better suited for the heat but it was nice to finally have something that felt right for me, even if I couldn't admit that to my mum as we bought them. I do get those occasional days where I can wear the cute denim pinafore I bought in the summer, and even more where I've been able to work in more neutral but still technical women's clothes into my wardrobe; the odd t-shirt, a pair of dungarees, that kind of thing. It's not enough, exactly, I wish I could do more, but it's something. It's meant that I do, more often than not, feel at least somewhat happy with how I look.

And, more importantly, while the spectre of my family is still hanging over me a little, they (and connected social groups) are more or less the only important people in my life who don't know; both my main groups of friends (my old school friends and my uni society friends), and my counselling class, they all know, and have been so incredibly warm and accepting. I know they see me as I am, as I want to be, and after it all I finally really get what Gender Euphoria feels like.

This week, I finally settled on a name, something which I took a while to do. Adam-Elizabeth; the latter meaning 'God is my oath', the first name I considered all those years ago, even if I played with some others in my head since then. My society friends, they all gave the sweetest responses; my school friends, immediately enthusiastic about the fact that my name was now long enough to shorten, brainstorming nicknames (we'll see what sticks). I'm not someone who cries, not really at all; maybe a little bleary-eyed at the right show. But I'll admit, all of it didn't leave me far off.

So, this 'birthday', I realise that I have, finally, made some progress. I'm not there yet, I don't know when I will be. In a lot of ways, what I've still got to do is the hardest part. But I am making progress. And I wanted to say just how good that feels.

[ptergwen]

sensation

w/c: 4.6k

warnings: some swearing, suggestive tings, and a pretty bad ending

summary: it’s the last night of your world tour, and tom has the perfect way to celebrate

a/n: i know y’all have been waiting for this one! everyone really loved when worlds collide but i ran out of ideas for it lol sorry... anyways my solution was to turn it into a oneshot :D based off the au!! i’m honestly nervous about posting this cuz a lot of you asked for it and i don’t wanna disappoint but i tried my absolute hardest to make it special <3 please enjoy

-

“thank you so much! we love you!” you shout to the audience, laughing breathlessly when they shout back. one of your dancers pulls you into a side hug, you throwing your arm around his neck. “we’re so fucking lucky you chose us, that you came all the way here. i’ve seen some of you back at night one. wow.” your voice gets wobbly, thinking about how loyal your fans are.

the tour started in new york, and they’ve followed you here to london.

tonight is an emotional night for everyone. you’re about to wrap your last show before you continue again in the summer. touring the u.k. has been a dream, and you’re just as thrilled to travel the rest of the world after your break. it’s bittersweet because you’re going to miss the hell out of your crew and the millions of lovely faces you’ve sang to each week. but, you do get to spend your time off with a special someone.

he’s watching you from the sound booth, sending fond smiles and loud cheers your way. thanks to you, tom has been at every show you’ve played in england. he brought harry along this time because he’s also a fan and wanted to see you. well, tom is more than a fan at this point. you’d say he’s more of a boyfriend. you haven’t discussed labels just yet.

your dates have mainly been over facetime, since you live on opposite sides of the world with insane schedules. a heartthrob actor and international popstar is quite the combination. you’ve only seen each other in person a couple of times, the first being pretty recently.

zendaya brought tom along to hang out with you in los angeles. he happened to be there recording some lines for a movie. she saw your concert earlier that night and invited him to crash the dinner plans you’d made, resulting in the best surprise and most fun you’ve ever had. the other time you enjoyed each other’s company was one weekend in paris. that was... something.

besides those two miracles, everything between you and tom happens through a screen. you’ll down bottles of champagne or keep warm under blankets while talking about your days. it’s nice, having someone on the other end who listens and actually hears you. tom gets it. you both do.

finishing your tour in london is convenient because not only will you have tom to comfort you, but you get to stick around for a while. he’s invited you to stay at his place. you can’t wait to meet the other holland’s, his friends, and obviously tessa.

“fuck, i’m gonna cry. i’m already crying,” you announce to the crowd, though they can tell from the tears streaming down your face. more dancers huddle around you and turn your single hug into a group one. you’re laughing and sobbing and holding on tight to everyone. fans bawl their own eyes out, the fact that this is it starting to settle in. the onstage crew even gets choked up, seeing you like this.

tom pouts from where he’s watching. he wishes he could run up there and squeeze you tight, but he’ll have to save that for when you’re done.

“i love you all so much, literally every single one of you in this room,” you tell everyone for the nth time tonight, swiping a perfectly manicured finger under your eyes. “my lighting crew, sound crew, my band, my fearless fucking dancers-“ a hiccup cuts you off. people burst into fits of giggles, which is a much needed tension breaker. you adjust your headset so the mic doesn’t pick up any other bodily noises.

grinning, you rest your arm on a shorter dancer’s shoulder, then go on. “sorry, sorry. i just wanna say, like, three more thank you’s before i get out of here.” there’s a chorus of no’s and encouraging whistles at the mention of you leaving. you blink back more tears to delay the breakdown you’re going to have. “thank you to my friends who always show up for me.”

with a knowing smile, you glance over at tom. “and, thank you to my more than a friend.” he smiles back, both hands held over his heart. harry elbows him in congratulations. more screaming erupts from the crowd as they realize where you’re looking and who you’re looking at. this will be sure to spark some headlines. whatever, you’re used to trending on every possible social media platform by now.

“this is the big one,” you preface, taking in a breath while everyone quiets down again. “thank you to you guys. for trusting me, for caring about what i have to say in any way. i feel your love. i really do, and i hope you feel mine.” your fans yell that they love you back, dancers gently swaying you side to side, emotions on high. there’s one last song, and it’s over.

“this has been the sensation tour, and i’ve been your host. was i good?” you try to lighten the mood, earning a bunch of what sound like positive shrieks. the earpiece you have in makes it hard to tell. “y’all were even better.” exchanging looks with your dancers, you pull out of the hug so you can get to your mark for the finale. they follow your lead. music comes through the speakers.

“i’ll see you again soon, okay? i promise. here’s sensation,” you introduce the song, immediately bursting into more tears. it’s torture to say goodbye. thankfully, you have the most incredible fans on earth, so they sing along with you at the top of their lungs. that includes tom and harry, your ultimate stans.

when the show is over, you run right off stage and over to tom. he’s waiting on the side with actual heart eyes for you. you practically leap into his arms, a hand cradling the back of his head, both his arms draped low and tight around your body.

“you were so amazing up there! absolutely smashed it, darling,” tom breathes out. his face is smushed between your neck and mostly bare chest. “thanks, tom. seriously, thanks for being here tonight and every other.” you smile a tired smile and wind your other arm around his neck. he presses some light you’re welcome kisses to your skin. “mm, thanks for having me. how’s it feel to be done?”

you sigh, fingers running through his curls. “like the biggest relief, and also really sad.” you’re such a mess that you could cry again on the spot. tom senses it and lifts his head up to see if you’re alright. “super depressing,” you surprisingly reiterate without the waterworks. “i know the feeling. you’ll be back soon, though. you said it,” he murmurs, a grin on his lips as they brush against the corner of yours.

you’re about to kiss him properly, then one of your dancers comes up to you. you’d forgotten that there are still stage managers and security everywhere, too. you get completely lost in tom whenever you’re together.

“you killed, babe,” coco greets you, linking your arm in hers. tom takes the hint and lets go of you. he watches on with a smirk. “nah, you murdered,” you send the compliment back and bite your lower lip. “i dunno, i feel like someone murdered me!” there’s coco with her dramatics. she’s genuinely hilarious, your shared sense of humor playing a huge part in your friendship.

she brings your free hand to her heart. you gasp at how fast it’s going. “that shit is really beating, coco. are you, like, okay?” “probably not. it was the freestyle that got me.” coco went a lot harder than usual tonight, since it was her last big dance break for a while. she puffs air from her cheeks and nods to tom. “this your man?”

“yeah, you could say that. i’m tom,” he answers, holding out a hand for her. “coco.” she pulls it like you would in a handshake. you beam at them, one of your best friends and unofficial boyfriend finally meeting. “sounds promising. i approve,” coco mutters to you. bumping your hip into hers playfully, you take one of tom’s hands in both of yours.

“aw, we have your blessing or something? your permission?” you coo and get a push at your shoulder from coco in return. tom chuckles, his thumb running over the back of your hand. “no! i was gonna say you should bring him out back,” coco clarifies, like it was obvious. you’re not sure what she’s on about. “uh, what’s out back?” you question. “an axe?” tom teases.

coco gestures to the nearest exit. “we’re having a little goodbye party in the parking lot. fire pit, snacks. remember?” nope, you’d completely forgotten. the idea first sounded like the perfect way to end your night, so you agreed to go. that was before you were dripping sweat and mentally exhausted. now, all you want to do is unwind with tom and tom only.

the superstar life is one you’re happy to lead, just not at this exact moment.

“i do now.” you muster up your most apologetic smile for coco, tugging on tom’s hand. “i’m sorry, co. i think we’re gonna pass.” her jaw drops. you’re never one to skip these things. “aw, for real? it’s our last night!” tom threads his fingers through yours while you talk. “bro, we’ve been together for almost a whole year,” you laugh out, nuzzling your cheek into tom’s chest. “get sick of me.”

“never,” coco deadpans. she catches you gazing up at tom, relaxing as his arms hug your middle. she’s known you long enough to tell what’s a fling and what’s real love for you. this is something special, and she can’t get in the way of it. she’ll let you navigate this yourself. “ok, just for tonight. you’ll text me?” coco gives you a real smile, raising an eyebrow at tom. he gathers that’s a good thing. he’s in.

“mhm. maybe we can hang out tomorrow,” you agree and let your eyes flutter shut. all that’s keeping you up are tom’s strong arms. “tell everyone i love them.” “i think they know.” coco shakes her head lightheartedly. tom laughs at her. “be good,” she tells him and means it, rubbing your back on her way to the lot. that leaves you and tom alone at last.

custodians are cleaning up the arena, fans are piling out, and you’re clinging to tom while his steady heartbeat grounds you. this is the only after party you need.

“harry’s got the car when you’re ready,” tom mumbles, tucking a piece of damp hair behind your ear. you loop your arms around his torso with a hum. “i was kinda wondering where he went.” “yeah?” he gives you a small smile. “gotta ask what he thought... of the show.” yawns are creeping past your lips, tonight’s events catching up to you.

“i like feedback from the fans, or stans,” you elaborate in your sleepy state. tom uses his fingertips to tap your temple. “what about me? i’m your biggest.” “i’ll, um, follow up with you later.” your words are slurring. “right now, home.” warmth spreads throughout tom’s entire body, his house becoming yours for a bit. “your chariot awaits,” he affirms before helping you to your dressing room.

after collecting your things, you follow tom out to the car. harry is in the driver’s seat, and you two slip into the back. he exchanges a look with his brother through the mirror while you settle on his shoulder. you’re hugging his bicep, his lips pressing to the side of your head.

“thank you for driving,” you speak softly to harry. he starts to pull out of the spot with a nod. “no problem. get to say i was y/n y/l/n’s chauffeur.” tom clicks his tongue even though harry is joking. you snicker at his remark, joking back. “you want the job? better be a five star ride, then.” your banter brings yet another smile to tom’s face. his family is everything to him, so seeing you get along so well means the most.

“right, right. did you have a good time?” harry wonders, twisting to see behind him while he turns around. he also peeks at you snuggled up to tom before facing forward. “great, actually. did you?” you check, the grin clear in your voice. harry goes into full stan mode. “no shit! you were brilliant, y/n. god, every note was just like how you did it the studio.” he’s raving, which is much appreciated by you.

“good answer.” tom shoots his brother a wink. “‘s that what you wanted to hear?” he asks in reference to your conversation earlier. your response is a kiss to his shoulder. “yay. i’m happy you liked it, harry.” he buzzes with excitement, having his favorite artist care what he thinks.

not much is said for the rest of the drive. tom and harry make some hushed conversation about golfing this weekend while you struggle to stay awake. they’re obsessed with that damn sport. it’s honestly nice to see, that tom has something he likes to do when he isn’t shooting hollywood’s biggest movies. your free time will finally give you the chance to discover other hobbies.

you stumble out of the car upon arriving to the boys’ place, a backpack on your shoulders and tom’s hand held tight in yours. you’ve got only a few essentials with you for tonight. the rest is on the tour bus, so you’ll gather it after your hangout with coco. besides, everything you need at the moment is right here.

“home sweet home,” tom announces as harry unlocks the front door. his words bring a tired smile to your face. “finally,” you exhale, keeping your fingers laced with tom’s and following the two of them inside. “i could show you around a bit, give you the grand tour. or-“ tom stops talking, feeling your weight on him. harry huffs at how oblivious his brother is.

“mate, she’s falling over. save it,” he suggests and kicks the door shut lazily. you’re done in. you’ve been having to lean on tom since the show ended. “another time, then,” tom mumbles, securing his arm around your waist. “there is one thing i wanna see.” your voice is low, body curled into tom’s side. he raises an eyebrow. “and that is?” “your room.”

tom takes that in a suggestive way, like he does most things. “we’re getting right to it, are we?” he questions, harry gagging and you nudging his arm with your head. “not like that, dummy. ‘cuz i’m sleepy.” there’s a beat of silence. “ask me again in-“ “wow, look at the time!” harry interrupts so he doesn’t have to hear the details. he’s sure he’ll witness enough after it happens. “off to bed i go! goodnight.”

he rushes to get to his room, yelling out, “great show, y/n!” on the way. “thank you! night!” you call back, tom letting out a sigh. “div of the century,” he says under his breath. “must run in the family,” you playfully retort. that gets you a firm poke at your side. “where’s everyone else?” you glance up at him. there should be two other idiots and a lovely, furry lady running around.

“tuwaine’s gone to the pub, harrison’s filming late, and tess is at mum and dad’s,” tom fills you in, grabbing your arm and draping it around his middle. doing him one better, you hug him with both. you squint in confusion about the last part. “they watch her when i’m out,” tom answers your unspoken question. “ah,” you nod, then deflate ever so slightly. “i wanted to meet her, though. the other boys, too.”

tom smooths the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “you will, darling. it’s only for tonight.” he kisses the same spot reassuringly. “we’ve got loads of time.” “yeah, we do,” you agree, instantly cheering up and letting your head fall onto his chest. “now, where’s your room?” “just upstairs. you need some help getting in?” he’s only playing around, but you accept, tightening your arms around his neck.

“show me the way,” you beam at him. “happy to.” tom wiggles his eyebrows, you jumping up. your legs wrap around his waist, his arms holding you against him. with a satisfied hum, you squish your face into his insanely soft shirt. “what a diva,” tom sarcastically complains while taking you to the staircase. “doesn’t even say please. no manners from this one.”

“you try dancing in six inch heels for two hours,” you shoot back, patting the side of his neck. he moves one hand down to your thigh for a better grip. you’re nearing the top of the stairs. “think i’ll leave that to you,” he decides and squeezes your thigh. “look at me, carrying the whole music industry.” your face easily gets hot and your words turn to murmurs. “shut up. you should listen to other songs.”

you’re on the second floor now, tom going for the first door. he frowns at his rejected compliment. “no, i like yours. they’re my favorite.” “really?” your muffled laugh sounds from his chest. “what was the first thing i ever said to you?” he asks, a toothy grin on him even though you can’t see it. you recall the faithful night he slid into your dms while he carries you into his room.

he’d tripped over his words somehow, the fangirling fool. before that, he tweeted to the whole world that he wanted to see you in concert. it was a huge thing, and people were freaking out about it, even more so when your online interactions became routine. that’s nothing compared to where you are now.

you’re currently living with him and basically dating. possibly, in love. the base of it all really is your music.

“that you love me.” you pause for the ellipses. the corners of your lips turn up. “but, you really meant to say my work.” “both apply.” tom passes that off like it’s a side comment, carefully laying you down on his bed. you look up at him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what does that mean?” his cheeks flush, and he bites back the smile that’s growing. this was supposed to go... differently.

you sit up, breathing out a laugh at tom’s boyish behavior. he’s precious, truly. “you do love me?” those three words will change everything if he says yes. he takes both your hands in his and holds them between you two. you meet his doe eyes. “yeah, y/n/n. i do.” so, you were right. “i love you... and, that wasn’t how i planned on saying it.” signaling for him to elaborate, you tilt your head to the side.

tom sits down next to and faces you before continuing. “it was supposed to be romantic, right?” he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, annoyed he ruined this. “candlelit dinner, flowers, that sort of thing. seems more fitting for the occasion.” you shift closer to him until your knees are touching. your face is lit up, voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“since when do we do things the way we’re supposed to?” you point out and set your hands on his shoulders. “we’ve gone straight from online dating to me moving in. that’s usually not how it works.” tom chuckles lowly. his own hands find their place on your hips. you’re so good with words. then again, you are a singer. “guess you could say we’re, um, spontaneous,” he agrees, fingers drawing circles on you.

you and tom have explored some of each other’s most intimate places, yet you’ve never shared a moment quite like this. it’s like meeting him for the first time again. he’s too tongue tied to spit out what he wants. you somehow know, anyway. what you cherish most about your relationship is that you two completely and totally understand one another, on every level.

“tom?” you speak quietly, butterflies filling up your body. “hm?” he hums back. this is one of those moments where it all just clicks. “i love you. i really, really love you.” you giggle out of the pure happiness that consumes you, tom joining in your laughter. “i love you, too.” he sounds like he’s said it a million times and he’ll say it a million more. he leans over so his forehead rests on yours. “really, really love you.”

your warm breath hits his face, eyes darting from his own to his lips. “i want you to be more than...” you trail off, unsure of how to phrase it. “more than... more than a friend?” tom pokes fun at what you said during the show. there’s less and less space between you with every second. “you mean, like, a boyfriend?”

“exactly. be my boyfriend,” you all but demand. you’re half asleep and desperate to be able to call him yours already. “bossy, bossy, bossy,” tom chastises, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. how he goes from being shy and giddy to the cockiest person alive in minutes, you’ll never know. “please?” you throw in to sway him. your hand locks with his, slowly moving it off your face.

you run your tongue over your teeth. “at least kiss me.” “you don’t have to ask,” tom breathes, lips now ghosting over yours. “i was going to.” true to his words, he closes the microscopic gap between you, you pushing forward against him as you kiss back. your first kiss in love. his lips taste like the chapstick he always uses, and he moves them softly.

he places a hand on your knee, you opening your mouth so he can have access to it. instead, a yawn exits. tom pulls back with a breathy laugh. “you must be exhausted, yeah? let’s get you to bed.” he pecks your lips once more. “my girl needs her beauty rest.” that confirms your relationship. you scrunch your nose and grin wide. “and, she’s gonna get some with her boy.”

you’re reminded of how sweaty you are when you catch a whiff. “oof, wait. do you think i can take a shower first?” you grimace, fanning at the air for emphasis. tom uses the tip of his nose to nudge yours. “absolutely. need help in there, too?” he’s not asking in that way, only so nothing happens. the hospital wouldn’t be the most pleasant place to spend your break. plus, he doesn’t want to be without you too long.

“you know what? yeah.”

that’s how you end up intertwined under the hot water, letting it cascade down your back as tom hugs you close to him. you sigh in content and tangle your fingers in his fluffed over curls. you’ve learned that he’s super into having his hair played with. it’s endearing, how he instinctively leans into your touch, eyes closing as you tug on the roots.

he drops his head down to kiss your shoulder, dragging his lips to your collarbone in a way that tickles. they land on one of your breasts next. there isn’t anything sexual about it, only loving. just in case he gets too excited because it’s not uncommon he does, you gently put a finger to his lips. tom takes the hint and lets up. you continue combing through his wet hair while you step out of the water.

“do you ever sing in the shower?” he questions, drawing your naked body in closer to his. “sometimes, yeah. i honestly feel like i sound better there,” you admit and slide your hand down to the nape of his neck. tom’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “not true. you sound beautiful everywhere, and don’t fight me on this one.” he smirks in satisfaction, you groaning at your loss.

“i really enjoy hearing your voice when it blares through an arena, though,” tom keeps buttering you up. you shake your head and settle both arms around his neck. “man, i just love you so much.” “i love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs back, you switching places so he can give his hair a final rinse. you watch him and his glowing body, admiring the sight.

“what a sensation you are,” you say mostly to yourself, which doesn’t stop him from hearing. “i see what you did there.” he eyes you while you do the same to him. your arms still around his neck pull him back to you. “tommy? do you sing in the shower?” you meant to ask him before, then he started throwing all those compliments at you.

tom scoffs, walking you back so you’re against the wall. “i don’t sing anywhere.” “what?” you gasp and put a hand on his chest. “you’re lying, you have to be. wasn’t billy elliot a musical?” he narrows his eyes at you as he tries to gage where you’re going with this. “that i did a decade ago, and way before puberty. couldn’t sing a word without cracking after that.”

your mouth is left hanging open in shock and disappointment. you bet he has a nice voice, and he’s downplaying it. “y/n,” tom begins, cupping your jaw with his palm. “since we’re living together now, there’s a lot you’re going the learn about me. good things, weird things.” he shrugs casually. “this is one of the weird things.”

“only because you make it weird! come on, let me hear you,” you request and wrap a leg around his waist. you’re giving him a hopeful smile. “god, no. you’ll hate it,” he almost laughs, a hand on your thigh. “i’m literally a singer. how could i hate something i love?” you refute, batting your lashes at him. “especially when someone i love is doing it.” “i love you, too. but, i’m not.” he’s quick to shut you down.

“drop a bar!” you try to coax him, which he already has a comeback for. “you first.” “i can’t. my throat is all scratchy from earlier,” you lie. tom presses his lips into a line, feigning pity. “aw, you know what’ll make you feel better? tea. i’ll go get you some.” he turns to shut the water off, so you grab his shoulders. “no, the steam is working. you can stay.”

“love,” tom addresses you in a warning tone that you can’t take seriously. he can’t either, a giggle escaping him. “my voice is shit. ask anyone, and they’ll tell you.” “i won’t believe them,” you hum, pushing back curls sticking to his forehead. “sounds like you just have stage fright. we can work on that, though.” “how?” he tightens his arm around your middle.

“i’ll bring you on for my next show. we’ll do a little duet.” you’re joking, though that would definitely be interesting to see unfold. “uh, never. what happened to you being tired?” tom cleverly deflects and digs his fingers into your side. you look down in defeat. “i forgot about that.” “yeah, yeah. no, seriously. we should really get to sleep, y/n/n.” he’s back to his sweet, attentive self. “‘s been a long night.”

giving in with a nod, you capture his lips in yet another kiss. tom never gets tired of them, and neither do you. you break it after a few seconds, lips lingering on his as they detach. “carry me?” you ask again, not caring how whiny you sound. tom presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “oh, you’re adorable. of course.”

well, you’ve found something to keep you occupied until the next leg of tour. you’re going to discover the many layers your intriguingly unusual boyfriend has.

[andromedasstarship]

i could not choose between 77-80 so i overbearingly ask u to use each of them with spencer reid if u wish 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

80. “Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner.” + 77- “If you want to leave, we can leave.”

send a prompt + character from this list! 

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings - stress?? mostly fluff 

a/n - tysm kenna for requesting this i love you and i loved writing this. i also went overboard on this one bye! ive also never posted something this long in an ask reply before so if this looks weird BYE!

Your car had long gone cold, but you still couldn’t find the energy to pull yourself out yet. It was futile to try and wrestle your emotions into a tightly sealed box; as soon as you crossed the threshold of the town-home you shared with Spencer, you knew he’d be able to read you like a book. Damn genius profiler skills.

Taking a quick look at the time you knew you had to suck it up and go inside; you were pushing how ‘late’ you could be without him worrying something had happened on your commute home. With a deep sigh, you grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and exited the car; taking your sweet time with locking the car behind you and digging your house keys out of the bottom of your bag.

To put it simply, it had been a difficult year. It was the final year of your Phd. program and while- all things considered- you had had an amazing time, the past few months had been both physically and mentally draining. What was once your lifelong passion had suddenly started to feel like a chore; a chore you felt you weren’t even good at anymore. Almost every day was spent either in your own classes or teaching undergrads. Almost every night was spent on the final edits of your thesis or grading work from your students. The few moments of freedom you found were spent doing the boring parts of adult life: housekeeping, getting your car fixed, calling elderly family members, etc.

Neither of you had formerly addressed it, but you knew it was taking a toll on your relationship. Spencer being busy was a constant, but it was normally balanced out by your typical 9-5 schedule. But recently, even on the nights he was home you’d be too wrapped up in your own work to even sit down and eat dinner with him. By the time you crawled into bed he’d be long asleep and in the mornings you’d been leaving for work earlier and earlier in order to get research time in at the university library. It felt like the two of you hadn’t even been awake in the same room for weeks, let alone do anything relationship-y.

Tonight was supposed to change that. Kind of. His team was having a fancy dinner to celebrate some major milestone that you couldn’t remember. It’d been on the books for months, but kept getting pushed back by surprise cases. It felt like everyone held their breath this week, waiting for a case to pop up, but instead everyone was left pleasantly surprised when no such thing happened. It was going to be a great night: classic Rossi pasta dish, all partners and kids invited. Even though the two of you wouldn’t be alone, it’d still be a perfectly good excuse to get out, put on some nice outfits and have a fun evening with friends.

Spencer had been particularly excited. The past week, you felt as if it was the only thing he ever talked about. Not that the two of you were having extensive conversations. He kept talking about how great it would be to get out of the house and how much he was looking forward to having a totally work free evening. His excitement warmed your heart.

Which is why you were taking so long to find your keys. Today had been one of the hardest day you’d experienced in a long time. The thesis meeting you had with your advisor- that you’d been staying up late every night editing for- had gone horribly; it was as if everything you prepared was wrong. Almost every student in the class you taught scored poorly on the latest assessment- on a unit you considered yourself an expert on-, something you viewed as a failure of your ability to convey the info. And to top it all off, even though you felt as if you’d spent hours upon hours working yourself to the bone the past week- in order to clear space for tonight-, you still felt as if you had piles of work to catch up on.

You knew the stress and tension of the day would read clear on your body as soon as Spencer got a look at you. And with how excited he’d been, you absolutely didn’t want to ruin the dinner. You’d hate for him to feel as if you were being selfish or that you couldn’t even prioritize him in your schedule.

You took one last deep breath, before going to put the key into the doorknob. Just as you touched the handle, the door swung open from the other side.

“Jesus!” You exclaimed, one hand clutching your chest as you nearly jumped out of your skin. In front of you was Spencer, smiling down at you with that irresistible grin of his.

“Did I scare you? Sorry. I thought I heard you car pull up earlier and when you didn’t come in I thought maybe something was wrong so I wanted to come check-”

You quickly cut him off- even though you did find his worrying a bit endearing- by pressing a quick kiss to his lips. 

“A good song came on just as I pulled in, couldn’t just get out.” You lied, adding a small laugh for effect. It was an on brand situation for you, something certainly believable. If Spencer had any doubts, he didn’t question you, simply moved out of the doorframe so you could step in.

Inside the house, you set your bag down by the front door like you always did. While kicking your shoes off, you pulled your jacket off, smiling when Spencer had his hands already open to hang it on the rack. You knew he had that ridiculous memory- and you had a pretty set routine-, but it still made your heart swell every time he anticipated your next move and went the extra mile to be helpful.

“So, how was your day?" Spencer asked, as the two of you made your way to the kitchen area. “What’d Professor Addams have to say in your meeting?”

You clenched at the handle of the fridge, grinding your teeth before pulling the door open. When you turned to look at Spencer, you saw he made himself comfortable on one of the countertop stools.

“Went well. They gave me some uh, um, some comprehensive revisions.” You said flatly, turning back to face the fridge; missing the skeptical look Spencer was throwing you.

“That’s good?” He said slowly, before adding, “well how was class? You just wrapped up the last unit didn’t you?” You both knew he knew the answer, but was just attempting to further the conversation. Had it been any other day you would’ve found it endearing, but today just wasn’t that day.

You slammed the fridge door shut, just hard enough to be cause for concern. “I thought tonight was absolutely no shop talk. Huh? Why don’t we just start that rule now.” You said, a slight edge to your voice. It’s not his fault, it’s not his fault.

“Are you okay-”

“Yes! I just don’t-”

“If there’s something wrong, you know you can tell-”

“There’s nothing wrong-”

“Do you need to stay-”

“Stop!” You exclaimed, bringing an end to the constant cutting each other off. “Everything is fine. Okay?” You said, unable to maintain eye contact.

Spencer slowly nodded, though you could tell he didn’t believe an ounce of what you had just said. Luckily for you, he seemed to let it go, falling back in his seat.

“I’m gonna go shower and get ready and then we can leave, alright?” You asked rhetorically. When he just nodded again, you very quickly walked up to him and pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

---

The ride to Rossi’s was silent, something that normally wouldn’t have bothered either of you had it not been for the borderline argument you had in the kitchen. As you pulled up a few cars down from the house, you caught Spencer staring at you from the passenger seat, a slightly concerned look on his face.

“Stop doing that.” You huffed out, but there was no real bite in your voice.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked gently, reaching out to push a piece of your hair away from your face. God that was sweet.

You quickly nodded and threw a very forced smile his way, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m fine. I promise, come on.” You said, killing the engine and pushing open your car door.

Before you could fully open the door, Spencer’s arm shot out across your body and pulled the door back shut with a bang.

“Spencer!” You yelped, startled by his sudden movement. You turned and gave him a bewildered look.

“You always look over my head when you lie.” Spencer stated.

“Oh I do not-” You started, but letting the sentence fall flat as soon as you realized you currently were looking over his head.

“Your favorite song came on the radio, twice, on the drive here and you didn’t react at all either times.” He said. When you still didn’t say anything he continued. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me.”

The look he was giving you was making you feel all sorts of guilty. Of course he cared, that’s why you loved him so much. You just didn’t want to ruin something that’d been in the works for so long, all because you had a bad day.

“Spencer,” you started, giving him a very pointed look and making sure to hold eye contact, “I’m fine. Can we just go in?”

Spencer shook his head, externally searching your face for more clues while also internally thinking back to any clues from your kitchen fight. “We aren’t going anywhere, until you talk to me.” He urged.

It probably wasn’t the best move on his part, seeing as you both were incredibly stubborn. The two of you were unrelenting, both staring blankly at the other; hoping the other one would break first. After nearly 5 minutes of silence, it became very clear that neither of you were standing down anytime soon.

Spencer reached his hand out again, gently cupping your cheek; internally you cursed your body’s natural reaction to lean into his touch. “What’s going on?” He asked, voice much softer than earlier.

You were internally screaming over how caring he was. Damn him! You cursed yourself for not being able to just play the role of perfect partner for one night.

“I’m exhausted.” You said, voice quiet. “My meeting went horrible day. I absolutely failed at teaching my students the last unit. I’ve been bringing so much work back to the house I haven’t even been able to give you a second of attention. And now we have this dinner that you’ve been looking forward to for months and I don’t want to ruin-”

This time, it was Spencer that quickly cut off your rambles with a kiss.

“Do you want to leave?” He asked, as if it were the most simple thing ever

You gave him a shocked look. “Spencer, you’ve been talking about this dinner for weeks. I, I can’t ask you to put this off, you and the team rarely get time to-”

“If you want to leave, we can leave.” He said. His voice was so sincere it made the whole thing that much more difficult. He was too good.

“Spencer, no.” You said, putting special emphasis on the ‘no’. “We haven’t even walked in the door, there’s nothing to leave yet. I’m not going to ruin the dinner we’ve all been planning on for months. I’ll be fine for a couple hours.”

He didn’t answer, instead pulled his phone out and quickly started to type out a text.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Rossi, I’m gonna tell him you aren’t feeling well and we can’t come anymore.”

“We’re outside his house! It’s not a big deal-!

“Your comfort and happiness is more important to me than some stupid dinner!” Spencer cut you off, giving you a very pointed look. You weren’t sure your heart could take the swelling much longer.

“Spencer, you’ve been planning-”

“I don’t want to hear it-”

“You’ve wanted to get out of the house for so long!” You stressed, giving him a ‘duh’ look.

“We can go do something else!” He replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Just us, no pressure to be ‘on’ in front of anyone else.” That did sound good- No!

“I’m not gonna be the one who keeps their boyfriend away from his friends-”

“I see them every day. Every day. One dinner means nothing.” Spencer said confidently, clasping your hand tightly between his.

You contemplated for what seemed like hours; though it couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.” Spencer said, giving you a very mock serious look; you couldn’t help but laugh at that. “There you are.” He said, smiling to match yours.

You turned the car on, clicking your seatbelt back into place. “So, where to pretty boy?” You asked.

“Well, I heard of this new ice cream place that just opened up. Their ‘claim to fame’ is they make over 50 flavors in store every single day. Did you know on average it takes nearly three hours from start to finish to make a single batch of ice cream? Or that when ice cream-”

You shook your head in amusement, chancing a couple glances in his direction as you were driving. You loved his excited ramblings and animated hand motions as he further explained the history of ice cream; as well as all the random facts about the place he was directing you to. As you got closer to your new destination, all you could think about was how lucky you were to, to be loved by someone who always knew just what to say.

---

permanent tags - @sunflowersandotherthings

[hellomynameisbisexual]

“QUEER”

First of all, let’s clear up a common misconception. Queer does not just mean gay. It’s an umbrella term for an identity which deviates from society’s perceived norm: heterosexual, or straight. Queer can refer to sexualities — gay, bisexual, pansexual, — or it can refer to being gender-queer; i.e, any label that deviates from the perceived gender norm: the binaries, male and female.

“Queer” is a reclaimed slur.

If you do not fall under the umbrella of queerness, it is safe to assume that you cannot use it. At all.

I am bisexual.

This means I experience attraction to plural genders. Pansexual also works fine. For the difference between bisexual and pansexual — see here:

Being bisexual isn’t easy. I went through similar hardships to gay women: I experienced attraction to women and was scared of what this meant for me, in such an oppressively homophobic society.

I am not saying being bisexual is harder than being gay, nor the inverse. But my experiences are distinctly bisexual, not gay.

Without further ado, here are the 3 things I’ve found to be the hardest about being queer, but not gay (enough).

#1: Finding My Place

Or, not being queer enough

I always knew I wasn’t straight, but I didn’t know what I was. Up until recently, I was still questioning. This didn’t feel enough to join groups or conversations with LGBT+ folk, let alone go to pride. Was I even LGBT if I was never L, G, B, or T?

I am still yet to attend a pride, even though I identify (fairly confidently) as bisexual. I am in a relationship with a man. This is (problematically) known as a “straight-passing relationship” and makes me feel even more undeserving of a place at pride.

This has been upsetting to me at times. But for others, it can be outright devastating. Growing up and needing support, but feeling like you’re ‘not gay enough’ to ask for it? So many young people are being left alone and afraid. Finding others like you is vital to figuring out who you are. Likewise, finding spaces which are safe and inclusive is vital for anyone, regardless of their sexuality or gender identity. A friend of mine happens to be a transgender man, and he summed up the issue perfectly:

“One thing that I keep noticing is how all hangout spots are “gay bars”, or (far less common) “lesbian bars”. I’m a straight man, so I don’t feel like I’m supposed to be there, but hanging out at regular bars is still too much of a gamble, so I don’t really have anywhere to go.”

It goes without saying that gay folk aren’t always safe in these spaces, as seen by the homophobic attack on the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, in 2016. Bigotry hurts the entire LGBT+ community. Bigotry doesn’t stop to ask whether you identify as gay or otherwise queer before it pulls the trigger.

But the LGBT+ community itself is much more welcoming to those who “pick a side” and just come out as gay, already. The infighting is inexplicable when one looks to attacks such as that in Orlando: bigots don’t care which letter you are in the acronym. So why does gatekeeping exist when we need to be strong in the face of intolerance when fragmentation only makes us weaker? Who are we helping by continuing to exclude identities from the discussion?

#2: Myths and Misconceptions

Well, it stands to reason that if bisexuals are what they seem in TV and movies, why would anyone want to make them feel included? They’re “greedy” and inauthentic. They’re attention-seeking, not to mention their propensity for threesomes. Now, I haven’t been in a wild orgy yet, but it seems like it will only be a matter of time before I follow my natural path.

Straight men, in particular, need to own up to their assumption that bisexual women are down for a threesome. The thing is, we are. But not with you, you big ASSUMER.

Infidelity

All jokes aside, the stereotyping of bisexuals is not only hurtful, but leads to difficulties finding and maintaining relationships.

As I came to terms with my bisexuality, I also had to accept that I might never be fully trusted by my partner, regardless of their gender or sexuality. I was shocked when my partner reacted to my coming out with the equivalent of a shrug — so much so, that I burst into tears of gratitude that my soul-bearing moment hadn’t been met with slut-shaming or assumptions of disloyalty. Nothing has changed. If anything, our bond is even stronger for me having been more authentic after coming out.

But cruelty came from elsewhere: when I came out, I was told that my partner was to be pitied, either because I’m gay and in denial, or bound to cheat on him. The main consequence of such attitudes has been the crippling fear of coming out to my partner. It saddens me that I felt so relieved when he accepted me for being who I am, and loving him just the same as I always have.

This outcome is not the case for many couples, with straight folk worried that their bisexual partner will realise they’re gay and just leave them. This fear of abandonment comes from a place of ignorance. When the media presents bisexuality as a steppingstone on the way to “picking a team”, it’s no wonder that people struggle to trust their queer partners.

Other Queer Myths

The myth that all trans folk medically transition invalidates those who choose not to do so, and let’s not forget the ignorant jeers that it's all just a mental illness. Asexual folk battle the stereotype that they can never have a relationship and shall forever remain a virgin (because what an awful thing that would be, right?) And pansexuals… well, at the lighter end, they’re asked if they have sex with cooking utensils. But often, they’re erased as irrelevant because “we already have the label bisexual”.

This brings us onto the third and final difficulty that comes with queer folk who aren’t easily categorizable as gay: erasure.

#3: Erasure

Erasure refers to the denial of an identity’s existence or its validity as a label.

Non-binary folk face ongoing and loud claims that they simply do not exist. This is despite the historical and scientific evidence to the contrary. Plus, the most important evidence — them, existing. Asexual folk are told they simply have not found the right person yet, or that they are just afraid of sex. Demi-sexual folk are told “everyone feels like that, unless they’re just sleeping around!”. And bisexuals are dismissed as simply being in denial that they’re gay.

Monosexuality & The Gender Binary

Our culture is so built on monosexuality (being solely attracted to one gender — for instance, gay or straight). Monosexuality is reinforced through everything from marriage to dating apps, the media to what we teach in schools. People cannot fathom that someone might want to experience more than one gender in their lifetime.

The binary models of sex and gender are also deeply ingrained. These rigid belief systems combined are to blame for our inability to accept that bisexuals do not need to “pick a side”. I was paralysed by fear for 17 years because I found girls attractive and that might mean I’m gay, because bisexuals are just gays who haven’t realised they’re gay yet.

Bierasure

Bierasure is dangerous, firstly because it leads a child to have to internalise both biphobia and homophobia. For instance, I had to work through being taught to hate gayness, whilst being taught that any attraction to non-male genders made me gay.

Women were cute, and so I was gay, and this meant I was disgusting.

My own mother told me this. She also told me that something has “gone wrong in the womb” for a child to be gay. (Well, Mum, I’ve got some bad news about your womb!)And she, like any bigot, extended this theory to anyone who experiences same-sex attractions — anyone queer. This is another reason why bi-erasure is perilous. Whether you’re a gay, cis-male or a demi-bisexual, trans woman… if your parents will kick you out for being gay, they will likely kick you out for being any sort of queer.

If we deny the bigotry that bisexuals undergo, we will continue to suffer. It won’t just go away. It will fester, with bisexuals having no one they can go to who believes them. And thus:

Erasure Kills

Bullying and suicide rates of queer-but-not-gay people continue to sky-rocket. We must direct funding, support and compassion to every queer individual, as they are all vulnerable to discrimination and bullying. The problem is being left to fester. This is in part because bigots treat all queer labels as just ‘gay’, deeming them equally unworthy. This is how far erasure can go.

Conclusion

Earlier on, I stated that my experiences are distinctly bisexual. The same applies to any queer identity.

Emphasising our differing paths and struggles is important to avoid the aforementioned erasure of already less visible groups. But this does not mean that the LGBT+ community should be fragmented by these differences.

If we can unite in our hope to live authentically and love freely, we will be stronger against bigotry. We are fighting enough intolerance from without: there is no need to create more from within.

So out of everything, what’s the hardest part about being bisexual?

It’s the fact that nobody knows it’s this hard.

[ketamineharry]

Thank You For Stopping By - Ethan Payne

Requested: Yes ~ used to be in a relationship with one of the boys, you break up and reunite a few years later? feelings never really went away, every relationship since has failed, you're my one true love yada yada yada (any boy u want icon)

Authors Note: For anyone interested, this is based on a spoken word poem called When Love Arrives by Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye

In year seven, you were adamant that you knew what love looked like. He wore a shark tooth necklace and knew how to play all of your favourite Oasis songs on the acoustic guitar. His hair swooped to the side, the envy of any boyband member. He was taller than you and always wanted to take photos for Instagram that made everyone else envious.

When love finally arrived, in the form of Ethan Payne. He was a troubled teenager, grieving the loss of his father. He was off the rails and was constantly getting himself in trouble. Dabbling in drugs, drinking his life away on the weekends and hardly ever attending the college. Nevertheless, he enticed you. He became the reason that you lied to your parents, always relying on your friend Jess to cover for you when you wanted to hang out. You couldn’t imagine what your loving, but ultimately overbearing parents would have had to say if they found out that you were meeting up with — never mind dating, someone like Ethan.

The first kiss you shared was messy, teeth getting tangled together. Still, you could feel the spark charging through your body for every second your lips connected. Hand pressed against his face while his hand was wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you closer into him. It was safe to say that you got lost in each other.

When Ethan had finally decided to break it off with you, in what felt like some sort of amateur disappearing act. It hurt. The relationship had only lasted for a few months, but, it felt like there was a longevity to it that hadn’t been explored. The hurt that hit you, was unlike anything you had ever felt. The worst part about it was, your friends had been warning you for weeks. If you had listened to them and jumped ship before he was able to, maybe it wouldn’t have stung so badly. The reality of the situation was that you were loyal to a fault and you couldn’t have left Ethan without a valid reason.

The breakup had left you with songs that you could no longer listen to and wounds that you had no idea how to heal. You found new love, love that was willing to tell you just how beautiful you were over and over again; no matter how much you were sick of hearing it. But somehow failed to tell you when you needed to hear it most. This love baked you cookies, but would eat most of them for a midnight snack. This love wasn’t perfect, but they sealed the Ethan shaped hole that was burned into your heart when he decided to walk away. In spite of all of this though, you still longed for the excitement and adrenaline that being with Ethan provided.

-

Which is why it didn’t surprise you when after the end of your most recent relationship, when Ethan reached out to you and asked to meet up after such a long time… it felt like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. It didn’t take much to get you to agree, if anything the least meeting up with him would do is provide you with closure. With closure, at least then you could move on.

You were sitting outside a coffee shop, nursing a cappuccino in one hand. The other hand around your phone, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. A tap on your shoulder knocked you out of your thoughts. Ethan. From a quick glance, he looked so much better than when you had last seen him. He had lost weight, his sense of style had improved by leaps and bounds and he wore glasses that seemed to frame his face perfectly. He was even more beautiful than you had remembered.

“Y/N!” Ethan beamed, knocking you out of your thoughts. You stood up, to greet him. As you did, he engulfed you in a hug. The smell of his cologne instantly hit you. The man that stood before you, was certainly the boy that had broken your heart many moons ago.

You both sit down, hands connected; almost as if either of you let go, you’d wake up from some sort of fever dream. A comfortable silence embraced you both for a while. Until the harsh reality hit. It had been five whole years. Five years of wondering what had gone so wrong without so much as a single hint of explanation.

“Why did you just ghost on me like that?” You asked, daring to break the safety net of the silence. Ethan recoiled, lifted his hand from yours and crossed his arms. Whatever it was, it was clear that he felt uncomfortable about it. So much so, he had to comfort himself.

“I was trying to protect you. You were so oblivious to the way that I was treating you, I relied on you to break me out of a deep sense of grief that I was experiencing. No adult should have to deal with that, never mind a fucking child.” He mumbled, voice shaking.

“I feel so bad for what I did. I know it’s no excuse for it, but I was young and naive. I loved you more than anything. You kept me grounded and actually reminded me in my darkest times that it was alright to like myself, because of how much you adored me.” He continued. A sheepish grin spreading over his face.

You didn’t really know how to comprehend what he was telling you. It was certainly a massive relief on your part that he was willing to be so open without you having to prod too much to extract the information that you needed from him.

“So why did you want to get this done now?” You inquired.

“Because it’s time for the both of us to move on… properly.” He responds, matter of factly. You tried to not let the punch that his words served you with show on your face. But, Ethan knew you better than anyone. He was definitely able to see that something was up.

“Listen Y/N… a wise person once forced me to watch their favourite spoken word poem. If I remember correctly, it goes something along the lines of, ‘love arrives exactly when love is supposed to and love leaves exactly when love must’. We’ve both been holding on to each other for so long.” He confessed.

“I remember that. I thought spoken word poetry was for geeks though.” You jested, trying your hardest to lift the mood. Ethan laughed, his belly laugh, the one you had etched into your memory from the moment you first earned one from him. It was bitter-sweet, although you loved hearing it, deep down you knew that this would be the last time you ever would.

“Yeah it is. But I suppose when you love someone you try and get into their interests, geeky warts and all.” He smiled, regaining his composure.

As the afternoon went on, you shared jokes and reminisced about your adolescence together. Five years ago, you would have never comprehended that closure could feel this good.

Soon enough, the conversation weaved its way back into a silence.

“How did the end of that poem go?” Ethan asked. The pain now evident on his face. It was hard for the both of you. You both understood just how pivotal you were to each other’s understanding of life in its purest form, from way before the adult worries of bills and jobs had made themselves apparent. Letting go of that, meant letting go of your childhood in essence.

“If love leaves, ask her to leave the door open behind her. Turn off the music and listen to the quiet.” You offered. The poem that you had enjoyed for many years now plaguing and haunting you as you sat in front of the man you had loved from the sidelines, for years.

“I just want to thank you for everything you were to me. But most importantly, thank you for stopping by.” He whispered, leaning forward to kiss you on the cheek, before scraping his chair back on the concrete.

As he walked away, you knew it was over. But you were comforted by the fact that the next time love rolled around, you would have the door wide open, freshly baked cookies on the side for them to have as a midnight snack. You would be ready.

[heliads]

Breaking Barriers

You are a Winter Soldier, used to being a hired gun anymore and nothing else. When Sam Wilson calls you to help with the Flag Smashers situation, you assume it’s just a job like everything else. He might convince you otherwise.

masterlist

When you first see the call pop up on your phone, you’re not sure whether you should answer at all.

You recognize the name, you know who’s calling. You know who’s waiting on the other end. You also have a sinking feeling as to why they’re calling- you know you couldn’t stay dormant forever. You were a Winter Soldier, after all, and you would never be allowed to stay away from a fight for too long. No matter how much you wished you could avoid it.

In the end, you answer. James Barnes, as you suspect, is waiting for you to reply. He’s not alone this time, joined by one Sam Wilson. The Falcon, a possible Captain America, now an ally of the very man who once tried to kill him. Then again, if you were going by people who tried to kill him, you would also be on that list. You operated under harsh mind control, you lost every fragment of your reality and ability to think for yourself. You’ve only been able to recently claw back some semblance of control, and even that has been hard-won.

You had hoped that staying away from the fight, whatever fight it may be, would do something for you. After the war against Thanos, when you had fought your hardest only to die and be reborn into another fight, you had taken advantage of the time to relax. In a way, that brief death was one of the only true moments you had to yourself. In that instant, watching your fingers give way to ash and dust, you had thought for just a second that you would finally stop being someone else’s weapon. Then you had been brought back to life, and a gun had been shoved into your hands as you had been told to fight once more.

It wasn’t their fault, of course. The Avengers needed help, you were there. However, there is something nice about being asked whether or not you wanted to join Sam and Bucky’s cause this time around. Yes, there are strings attached, as there always seem to be, but there have rarely been jobs without them. You know Sam Wilson is a good man, and Bucky tries his hardest to be one. Of all the fights to start, this might be your best one so far.

You meet them at a small airport in the outskirts of Latvia. You’ve managed to make record time on your flight, but even from your first few footsteps in the dusty tarmac, you can tell that you arrived too late. Seconds before you landed, you saw the videos trending across the world. You saw John Walker, that false Captain America, raising Steve’s shield like a barbarian and using it to slaughter a man who was begging for his life. You know what this means, and you know why you’ve been brought here.

Even without the video, you can tell that something terrible has happened. There’s a haggardness in Sam’s face, a weariness that seems to line his brow. You hadn’t spent that much time socializing with the Avengers, as even the world’s mightiest heroes tended to shy away from silent, potentially mind-controlled soldiers who tend to operate between the darker shades of gray, so you couldn’t claim to know Sam as well as his other coworkers.

This being said, you’d come to see Sam as someone who always knew what to say. You’d watched with grudging admiration as he plied the tools of his trade: soft knocks on the doors of people who needed to talk, gentle reminders that it’s okay to let one’s guard down. He’s tried them on you before, but they never really stuck. You didn’t know him well enough to fully go along with his talks, or he was still too wary of you. 

You could hardly blame him- even Bucky Barnes was known first as a kind, courageous 40s-era veteran. No one knew anything about you; no files to prove your worth, to save you or damn you as someone worth the Avengers’ time. HYDRA had essentially erased you from history, and all the world knew about you is that you were one of the Winter Soldiers tasked with mindless killings up until Sam and Bucky had pulled you out. Even Bucky had Steve to back him up, but you had nobody. That is the way of the world, you suppose, not everyone has a protector. Some people have to pave their own way through.

Despite all this, though, it still shakes you to see Sam so worried. You didn’t realize how often you’d looked to him as a source of calm and reason until you saw him concerned. This alone is enough to make you lengthen your strides, closing the distance between you and the pair of Avengers until you’re standing only a few feet apart. Sam extends his hand without hesitation, and you try to match his trust when you take it.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N. You look well.” From anyone else, this would be a nothing, a pleasantry designed to get past the first few stages of protocol. From Sam, however, you feel something different. Like he might actually mean it, or know how to look for the good and bad in you. You’re not sure you were ready for that, or that you’re entirely displeased with the fact that he’s already looking out for you.

Sam gestures towards an awaiting vehicle at the far side of the airport, and the three of you begin walking. You nod once at Bucky, he nods once at you. Winter Soldiers, always knowing when to hold your tongues. Sam raises an eyebrow at this. “So the staring thing isn’t just him?” You smile inwardly. There’s the Sam you remember. Even this brief moment of humor, however, disappears quickly to be replaced by a look of concern.

“Judging by the fact that you’ve gotten here so quickly, I’m assuming you’ve seen the videos. John Walker has to be stopped before he does more damage, and we think he’s taken the super soldier serum. We could use your help in trying to get him to stand down or in taking the shield.” Even this last saying is phrased like a question. You can’t help but compare this to the way HYDRA or even the Avengers used to talk to you. Their speeches were always full of brief, harsh sentences saying exactly what would happen. You would fight, the enemy would not get away, you would stay until the job was done. 

Sam, on the other hand, always leaves a way out, an escape route if you need it. You’ve already taken his call, already arrived in Latvia. There’s no chance you wouldn’t be willing to take on this job, yet Sam still checks to make sure you’re fully on board with the idea. This simple act of empathy is oddly heartwarming, and you find yourself trusting the man even more.

You nod at him, forcing yourself to recollect your thoughts. You’ve been a soldier for a long time, far longer than you should have. You can at least pull yourself together and not act like a starstruck teenager just because Sam’s the only one in years who’s truly looked at you as something more than a weapon. But it does strike like something different, doesn’t it? That’s why it’s so hard to push aside.

“Sounds good. Walker won’t come quietly, though. He saw those cameras and kept going, I doubt he’ll hand over the shield without a fight.” Sam tilts his head in acknowledgement. “I would be surprised if he did. That’s why we’ve got you, though.” You raise an eyebrow. “Backup?” Sam grins. “A friend in case we die.” Maybe he keeps surprising you after all.

John Walker, as it turns out, does not like the idea of turning over the shield any more than you had thought he would. It ends up in a fight, as it usually does. Sam and Bucky approach first, as you had agreed, with you waiting in the shadows in case Walker decided to come out with fists swinging. When things had looked particularly dire, you had jumped in, using your enhanced strength to begin forcing the shield away from Sam’s exposed head.

Walker had glared at you, recognizing you the same way he had Bucky. “You’re another Winter Soldier. You’d turn to criminals instead of staying on my side?” This last part is directed towards Sam, who stands up with a grunt. Something flickers in your chest at the sight of blood slicing up his face. “She’s not a criminal. She is an ally.” Sam says. You’re surprised to hear the honesty in his voice. He truly believes you to be a friend. He might be the first in a long time.

Walker turns back to you, attacking with renewed vitriol. “It doesn’t matter. I am Captain America. The shield is mine, even if I have to take down another super soldier to get it.” You shake your head. “It’s not about the super soldiers, Walker. It’s about making the right call. And I’ve fought enough super soldiers in my time to know that this is the right one.” You manage to wrest the shield away from Walker long enough for it to clatter to the ground. At the sound of ringing metal, the fighting momentarily stops as everyone- Sam, you, Walker, Bucky- turns to face it. 

The din of metal on the ground fades away as it comes to a halt, and then everyone dives to either retrieve the shield or stop it from being retrieved by someone else. In a way, it kind of reminds you of the golden apples of immortality from the Greek Myths- one thrown, groups of mortals falling after them. The shield doesn’t just represent power as it does to Walker, it’s a legacy to uphold. The immortality of a name always seems to come with a legacy.

The fight ends with Walker unconscious on the ground, the shield finally returned to Sam. You watch as Bucky strides away after nodding one last time to Sam, then stand up yourself. Sam calls after you and you turn, seeing him silhouetted in the light of the empty door. The dark of the garage seems to hang around everything but him. It somehow seems right on him.

“Do you have a place to go? Somewhere safe? After this business with Walker, you’re going to get some unexpected callers.” You nod slowly. “I’ve been able to keep HYDRA off of my back for years. Disappearing without a trace is my specialty. I’ll be gone before you know it.” Sam considers this for a second. “What if you didn’t have to do that?” You cock your head at him, confused, and he takes a step forward. The light from the door seems to follow him in, reflecting off of the sharp white lines and metal details on his suit. 

“There’s a place in Louisiana. Delacroix, near the harbor. I have family there. You can come visit, if you like.” You smile, feeling the refusal already rising to your lips. “I appreciate the offer, Sam, but if you’ve got family then I probably shouldn’t be there. I attend to attract trouble.” Sam shakes his head. “So do I. So does everyone in this line of work. It doesn’t mean you have to be on the run forever. Take a chance, Y/N. It might pay off.”

With that, he leaves, disappearing into that window of light to the outside world once more. You watch him go, thinking over what he said. There’s a small motion from Walker and you glance over sharply, relaxing when you realize he’s still unconscious. Well, he’s going to wake up eventually. You might as well take a trip and see what you find in Louisiana.

Bucky ends up having the same idea as you, and the two of you meet up for the drive in. Once in Delacroix, it turns out to be fairly easy to find Sam- just follow the train of people congregating around one particular sun-bleached boat bobbing away by the dock. Sam’s gaze lights up when he sees you, and for some reason seeing his happiness makes you feel a little better about coming. You had always been taught that this lightness in your chest, this carefree feeling, was a distraction, something that would only serve to make you worse at your job. Yet why do you feel stronger now then you have in a while?

You don’t have that much experience with boats, but everyone around you seems willing to teach you. You’re not sure whether they recognize you as a murderous Winter Soldier from the news or are just willing to overlook it, but everyone seems ready to accept you as yet another visitor. You can see how this place shaped Sam- his unwavering kindness is present in every single face you see.

You end up working almost all day, and find yourself relaxing on the dock as the golden light of dusk starts to reflect out across the horizon. You hear steps echoing down the dock, and seconds later, someone sits down beside you. “I’m glad you came.” You turn to Sam with a slight smile. “I’m glad too. There’s a new kind of feeling here, something I haven’t had in a while. It’s good to get away from everything and just take a second to breathe.”

Sam gestures towards you in agreement. “That’s the thing. We can all be excellent fighters, but you’re going to wear yourself down to nothing if you stay on the battlefield for too long. We all have to give ourselves a chance to rest.” His tone becomes softer. “That goes for you too, by the way. You are worthy of taking a break.”

You force yourself to laugh. “I didn’t realize I was going to be having this in-depth of a conversation tonight. I would have prepared myself.” Sam gives you a look. “You’re trying to avoid the topic by making jokes. You’re forgetting that I do counseling for the veterans. You can’t use any of the old tricks on me.” You raise an eyebrow. “I can try.” Sam shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “It’s too late, I already know what you’re up to. The point is, your past can only take you so far. You have a right to a good future, and you keep running from it.”

You sigh, staring out over the water. “I just- I’ve done so much. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be without it. Bucky had Steve, had an entire museum exhibition where he could go read up on who he was. I don’t know who I was before the Winter Soldier program because HYDRA wiped it all away. Without something to fall back on, how do I know who I am anymore?”

Sam reaches over, gently wrapping his hand around yours. It’s a surprisingly comforting gesture, and you end up getting so distracted by it that you forget to move your hand away at all. “I know who you are. You are Y/N L/N, the Avenger who would never give up on a fight if she thought it was good. You have a drive unlike anything I’ve seen before, and you’re the one person I called because I knew you would always have my back. I trust you, Y/N, and I know that you will be able to find a place for yourself. You found a place with me, if it’s worth anything.”

You smile at him. It’s a full smile this time, unburdened by worry or fear of the past. “It’s worth a lot, Sam Wilson. To me, it’s worth everything.” When he kisses you, you’re not surprised at all. Just happy that it would be him to finally break down your barriers, and to convince you that you are worth all of the time and energy and love that he will have for you.

marvel tag list: @mycosmicparadise​

[guiltysecretpasttime]

bumi + lin getting caught or how everyone found out about their relationship :-))))

Title: Discretion

Note: Here’s what I have for this particular Lin/Bumi II prompt. Hope you enjoy 😊

· Pairing: Lin/Bumi II

· One-shot, post-series AU

· Rating: Teen

-----

Bumi was whistling as the hustle and bustle around Air Temple Island continued in preparation for Varrick’s wedding. Why they allowed the wedding and the party on the island, he had no idea.

He watched the tired teenagers who were hovering excitedly around the affianced. He supposed they all deserved some sort of merrymaking after what he had dubbed in his mind as the Kuvira Incident. It also was not a bad idea to have them use this time to work out their romantic entanglements, he thought as he eyed the various couples gravitating toward each other.

It also gave him a lovely excuse to meet up with his ownromantic entanglement.

The former military man faced the city pensively.

He frowned as the water lapped against the shore. The sun continued to shine brightly even as the buildings at the island across showed devastation, some still slightly smoldering days after the attack.

The Kuvira Incident did put things into perspective.

Well, that went dark quickly.

He blinked away grim thoughts and focused instead on the fairy lights being hung around the courtyard.

As he decided earlier, they all deserve some merrymaking.

---

“What are you doing skulking around?” Bumi asked the lady in green, who was looking down at a kebab that had seemed to have displeased her.

Lin Beifong scoffed. “I am not.” And continued to examine the mystery meat on the stick.

Bumi sauntered closer to her, standing at her side, joining her quiet observation of the party. “What on earth did that kebab do to you?” He waved his free hand to said meat on a stick; his other hand occupied with helping him take a swig of whatever fruity punch Varrick was serving.

She bit it furiously while rolling her eyes. “It’s a bit tasteless, if you must know.”

Bumi bit back a laugh and just hummed.

While she could eat instant noodles as well as any cadet living off rations, Lin did have her snobby side to food when it comes to social events thrown by the upper-class.

“Then again, Varrick is tasteless when it comes to most things.” Lin added, her scowl scaring off a Nuktuk-attired waiter who had the misfortune of glancing their way to offer more refreshments.

This time, Bumi let out a laugh, earning him a smirk from the metalbender.

“Well, that’s true. Let me join you in disparaging the libation too – not a single touch of alcohol in this drink.”

They stood there, at the fringe of the party crowd for a while – he sipping the vile drink, she chewing the tough meat.

“They allowed you to wear that?”

It took Bumi a moment to understand she meant his uniform. “I am a retired commander after all.” That and because he did not want to be dressed in formal wear that was almost identical to what his brother was wearing.

Lin swallowed her food. “Hmm, I've been thinking of that too…”

“Me in a military uniform?” Bumi waggled his eyebrows and received a smack on his arm. “You in my uniform?” Another smack.

“Retiring.” She said it so quietly he thought he must have misunderstood her.

He briefly wondered what could have made her arrive at a such a life-changing decision. Then again, if that meant that she would be closer to safety than danger…

“I don’t see why not?” He tossed back with a grin, noting the veiled concern on Lin’s face, worried about his reaction. “As long as it’s what you truly want.”

Lin’s posture relaxed after that.

They continued to sip and eat in silence.

They saw Rohan running at the other side of the court, weaving through the people who were starting to go to the dance floor. Huan was noticeably dragged by Ikki to dance (“Kid takes after her mother, doesn’t she?” Bumi murmured in jest, only to get an elbow to his side as Lin shook her head.).

As people went over to the dance floor, it would not be long before someone noticed the lady beside him. Chief of Police or not, she always did strike quite a figure. Without all the armor (literally and figuratively), it could be easily argued the Lin could be approachable.

He stood closer at her side. He twitched his pinky finger to touch hers.

Her eyes darted to him.

The mood of the party was happy and hopeful. He knew this feeling. He had seen this before. The sigh of relief and desperation for something good after a long hard military campaign.

His face remained cheerful and proceeded to talk about everything and nothing.

Lin’s expression softened. “Want to leave the party?” Her pinky finger hooked around his.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

As always, Lin was the only one who saw through him.

---

Propping himself up on his elbow, Bumi watched her sleep.

Lin had always been a light-sleeper. He got that – living with a constant threat hanging at their back or having a long career that required alertness and rapid reaction time does that to you. That was why it never ceased to amaze him that the metalbender manages to have long uninterrupted sleep whenever they were together.

Spirits knew how much she deserved to sleep in.

He had sighed in relief when Lin said she had lied last night. She had not just been thinking of retiring from the police force – she had already filed her retirement to both President Raiko and headquarters. And, in true efficient Beifong fashion, she had secured approval within days. He did not think she had fully recovered and taking a break (albeit a permanent one) was more than needed.

His eyes traced the dark eye bags and pale complexion. The rebuilding efforts and the ton of work post-Kuvira Incident took a toll on her.

Her skin, already marred with various scars and marks throughout the years, was much too pale. Each imperfection was linked with a story. Each story building up to who Lin was now today.

Her ankle had a small scar, almost invisible unless you knew where to look, from her childhood escapades.

There was the jagged scar, stitches very much apparent on her calf from her earlier days as a beat officer.

A smattering of bruises at her lower back was still present, souvenir from being tossed off the colossus.

Her shoulder, while exhibiting any outer trauma, was still healing from being dislocated from the same scrimmage with death.

There were more across her body, but the most recent ones were those that hit Bumi the hardest.

He was the one who found the Beifong sisters unconscious in the arm of the mecha giant.

He had been beyond terrified until found their respective pulses.

He feared it would have been too late for him, for them. Then Lin fluttered her eyes open, and, despite her shallow breaths, managed to croak out in a less than acerbic tone to help her down.

He mused now in the pale daylight that he ought to have done something then, said something then. He decided to rectify that now.

Before he could even reach over to wake her up in that delicious manner he was planning, several loud knocks beat at his door. He subconsciously tightened his grip around Lin’s waist.

“Bumi? Bumi!” Tenzin.

“We know you’re in there.” Su. “Open up!”

Bumi threw a worried glance at Lin, but she was still asleep and simply buried her face closer to his chest, ensconced under his fluffy comforter and buried under his equally soft pillows. He leaned back and closed his eyes, willing their unwanted siblings away.

Maybe if I pretended to be asleep, they would leave us alone…

Knock-knock-knock! A pause. Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock!

“Bumi!”

He closed his eyes tighter.

Knock-knock-knock!

“Wait a minute, maybe it’s unlocked anyway…”

What are they talking about?

Bumi found out soon enough when the sound of the door sliding open reached his ears.

“Bumi – I can’t find -!”

He sat up quickly, making sure Lin was comfortable and quite hidden from view.

His visitors stopped at the doorway, enough to trespass but not enough to take a full scan of the room.

“Ohhh, I’m – we’re – sorry –.” Tenzin stammered, quite apologetic for bursting in his brother’s room.

Su did not have the same misgivings. “Bumi has a lady friend!”

“He does?!” A new voice called out with shock.

Tenzin and Su, he can tolerate but having the kids over – Bumi decided he drew the line there.

Fight shock with shock.

He stood up quickly, unmindful of being seen in his birthday suit.

“Oh sweet Spirits Agni! Bumi! Cover yourself!”

“My eyesss!”

The Avatar and Bolin immediately shouted over gasps of shock.

Bumi stretched languidly, pretending that nothing was amiss. He will not be embarrassed. That was their problem, they were the ones who were invading his privacy.

To be fair, he had no issues about his nudity so it was not really a big issue. It was just that with Lin in his bed – well, the situation was a bit tricky. Fortunately, her face was still hidden under the comforter. He pulled it higher, never mind that part of her leg is still visible.

“To what do I owe this wake-up call?” Bumi scratched his beard, acting as though this was a normal occurrence. He did delight in making his brother uncomfortable. They became closer in the latter years. Old habits die hard though.

“Bumi, we apologize for barging in this morning.” Tenzin was looking over his shoulder. “But could you – at least -.” He waved at the general direction of the naked man.

Bumi took his sweet time going around the room to pull on some clean shorts.

Su took this opportunity to push out the kids out of the room, who he now saw included both pro-bending brothers, Asami, Opal, and the Avatar.

“Why is the entire cavalry here?” Bumi sauntered to the door, blocking everyone’s view of the room and angling his body to stand in the way of the bed. “What’s up?”

“It’s Lin.”

A beat.

“What about her?”

“She’s missing. I didn’t know when she went home last night.” Su wringed her hands in worry. “I called her house, no one answered. We went over and she wasn’t there.”

It annoyed Bumi how they were suddenly on Lin’s case when they barely said two words to her the night before. There was bound to be a hidden agenda to this sudden worry.

“Your sister is a grown woman and she's been taking care of herself without you lot for more than a decade now.

He scanned the faces around him.

Postures stiffened, Tenzin flinched, eyes avoided Bumi’s.

Yeah¸ that’s what I thought.

Su stomped lightly. “Regardless of that,” The woman was adamant and would not back down. “We intend to go to the station to report her missing, with or without your inputs.”

Mako looked downright uncomfortable, Bumi thought the boy genuinely cared for his mentor.

“Boy, anything you’d like to add, detective?” Bumi nodded at the firebender.

“We can’t file a missing person’s case unless the person has been missing for more than 24 hours.” Mako shifted his eyes.

“There you go. Drop the matter, Su. I’m sure Lin is fine.”

Su looked like she was about to argue and Tenzin was about to say something but Mako beat him to it.

Still not catching anyone’s eyes, Mako started. “And well, what if the Chief also had a lady friend like Bumi? Or a gentleman friend?”

Bumi almost snorted.

Gentleman friend, what?

The detective was looking ill now but props to the boy.

“Lin with a special friend is highly unlikely.” Lin’s sister said decidedly, waving off Mako’s theory.

Bumi snorted now. “Right, because you’d know, ain’t it right?”

“I don’t see why not?” Suyin frowned, crossing her arms.

Moments like this Bumi was reminded why Lin still held some form of dislike towards her sister.

Asami tried to mediate. “I don’t think Chief Beifong would appreciate her private life being discussed like this.”

Bumi knew he always liked the Sato girl, he nodded and added. “Please don’t do this to try to assuage your…guilt.”

As expected, there were reactions from Su and Tenzin.

“We are not -!”

“Nonetheless, Bumi, Lin is…” Tenzin’s words trailed off and color drained from his face as he continued to look over his brother’s shoulder.

Bumi knew the moment Tenzin realized who was in his bed. He quickly slid the door closed. He tried to meet his brother’s eye, but the man was resolutely looking away.

“Safe.” Tenzin managed to choke out. “Let’s go everyone, I’m sure Lin is very safe.”

Su turned on Tenzin, obviously shocked by his sudden change. “What are you talking about, Tenzin – we -.”

“If Bumi says Lin is okay, then she probably is.” Was the simple yet shifty response.

“But we need Lin to -!”

Opal elbowed her mother gently, asking her to drop the issue. It did not escape Bumi’s notice.

There was the hidden agenda – Su needs Lin for something.

The group scurried away as both Tenzin and Mako helped herding them away from the bedrooms.

---

Bumi figured it was too early to be dealing with anything.

He rejoined a sleeping Lin in bed, who in turn, burrowed into his side.

He will deal with the real world later. For now, he will enjoy this.

---

Ignoring Suyin who was still chattering about one thing or another (in all likelihood berating him for not supporting her call to search for her sister), Tenzin mulled over his earlier discovery.

Lin and Bumi are together.

Not just together but together – together.

He wringed with his hands as they walked to the dining hall.

How long have they been together?

He had thought that this knowledge would bother him – well, it did, he reconsidered, but not for the reasons he might have initially thought of.

It was bothering him the same way it would have bothered him to see any woman sleeping with his older brother.

He had reconciled with his siblings and the Beifongs in the recent years, but some things should have remained private between them.

Like Bumi’s sex life.

Like Lin’s sex life.

Like their sex life.

Oh, how he wished he gone back to the past few minutes when he was still blissfully unaware. Or he hoped he would have already forgotten the markings and scars on Lin’s legs in order to not have recognized her in his brother’s bed.

Ah well, Tenzin eyed Lin’s family, the Avatar, Bolin, Asami, and Mako walking beside him, here’s hoping they not find out soon.

He doubted greatly that Lin would enjoy her relationship being disclosed before she deemed it necessary.

He recalled Bumi’s stance earlier, how protective he was of an unknowing Lin.

End of the day, Tenzin just wanted both of them to find happiness. He had did them both wrong in their lifetime and was at a loss on how to rectify it. The airbender had been trying in the past years, but there was only so much he could do.

Too little, too late, he always thought.

Tenzin waved at the acolytes that were leaving the dining hall. Pema sat down beside him and smiled as she handed him the platter of food. He smiled back, thinking still how lucky he was to have her by his side.

And now, by some peculiar twist of fate, Bumi and Lin found each other.

And, if, they make each other happy and content, then, Tenzin decided then and there, he will support them in any way that he can.

---

“Bro, are you going to eat that last piece?”

Mako was shaken from his reverie. Bolin stabbed the food on his plate at his head shake.

“Are you alright, Mako?” Asami was always the sensitive and observant of the group.

The firebender tossed a look at the Avatar chatting with Bolin and Opal at the other side of the table. After making sure that they were preoccupied, he turned to Asami.

Asami raised her eyebrows at him. “Well?”

“I think I know where the chief is.” He could not help but dart a wary glance at the Beifongs. “But it’s not my place to say.” Mako quickly added.

Asami leaned back at her seat and looked at him quizzically. “How did you know where?”

Mako dropped his utensils on the plate and covered his face with his hands. He was not one of Lin’s proteges for nothing.

One of his strengths as a detective is his keen eye for detail.

And details did not evade him in that brief view of Bumi’s bedroom.

It was quite obvious to him that the strewn pieces of clothing belonged to someone he had seen in attendance in the wedding reception earlier.

And that someone is his commanding officer.

---

Said commanding officer made her presence known at the lunch table that noon, surprised at seeing everyone still on the island.

That Chief Beifong was not expecting that there were still other guests at the residential area of Air Temple Island was fairly obvious, as Bumi was walking beside her, whispering at her side with a smile.

The plan was, actually, for most of the guests to have already gone their own ways but that morning’s excursion to Republic City made everyone’s itinerary delayed and their breakfast turned into brunch.

She exchanged a look with Bumi who shrugged and tried to sit at one of the empty tables unnoticed.

Now, while Mako might have been blessed with a sense of discretion, the same cannot be expected of his brother.

This became much apparent when said brother had gaped and thoughtlessly exclaimed, “Lin! We’ve been looking for you all morning – at what corner of Air Temple Island did you sleep at? I doubt this is the walk of shame.”

This pronouncement drew the attention of everyone in the hall – attention at her (their) very late entry and at her clothes which were clearly too formal for the day.

No one dared speak up as the metalbender simply glared at the earthbender, not responding.

There was complete silence in the dining hall.

…until comprehension dawned on Suyin Beifong’s face.

Then all hell broke lose.

---end---

Note: That could have probably gone better but let me know what you think. Anon, hope that worked for you (feel free to leave a note/msg :) ) Hope everyone is doing good, at least.

[haikyuuthots]

You know I’m just a flight away - Tobio Kageyama

Pairing: reader x Kageyama

Warnings: some curse words, suggestive language but nothing happens.

Word count: 1.4K

Song to listen to while reading: Telepatía by Kali Uchis.

Summary: it’s Valentine’s Day and your boyfriend is miles away. Alone and upset, you weren’t expecting a surprise from him.

A/n: this is heavily inspired by Telepatía, if u listen while reading it will be a whole vibe I promise!! I love Kali and recently this song has been blowing up so I decided to write something about it. Also, a late Valentine’s gift from me to you. Enjoy besties! 💕

Masterlist

—————————————————————————

(Found the image on Pinterest, all credit goes to original artist! ✨)

Being away from your boyfriend had to be the hardest part of his job. Kageyama being a professional athlete meant that he had to travel occasionally for tournaments and so, but even then it never got easier being away from your boyfriend for several weeks.

Kageyama felt the same, he wished he could be with you every second of every day, in fact he once begged you to quit your job so you could travel with him freely. Although you loved him you kindly declined, because you loved your job, and loved making your own money. He of course understood your reasoning and never asked further.

Kageyama was in Brazil at the moment while you were back home in your comfortable apartment. It was February 12th and Kageyama wouldn’t be back til the 20th. You were a bit sad at the fact you’d be spending Valentine’s Day separated from your boyfriend.

You were currently on FaceTime with him, his beautiful face taking up the screen

“Have you eaten yet?” He asked curiously

“Yeah earlier. I really miss you Tobio.” You pout a bit

He sighs briefly at his phone “i miss you too baby, i want to be near you so bad.”

“You know I’m just a flight away.” You smile at your phone,

He chuckles at your response “I know. And I’m planning on catching that flight as soon as I can.”

“But you know what crazy babe?”

“What?” He asks curiously as he raises his eyebrows a bit

“We’re connected. I can feel you, even though we’re miles apart.”

He smiles once again as he watches you speak “you’re so cheesy.”

You laugh at his response “wow way to kill the mood.”

“I’m sorry baby.” He chuckles out “but I know what you mean, I feel you too. Anywhere I go, you’re always with me.”

You slightly blush at his words “look who’s being cheesy now.”

“Fuck I miss you. Your pretty face, your smile. He pauses for a second “your body, your touch.”

You laugh “there it is. I already knew where you were going with that. I can read you mind.”

“I wanna see you.” He cuts you off

“You are seeing me.” You respond, you knew exactly what he meant but you decided to feign oblivion

“No, i wanna see YOU.” He repeats sounding a bit more persistent now.

You were always willing to give Kageyama what he wanted, you had no problem with it, but you thought it’d be interesting to tease him a bit.

“Well Maybe...” you begin speaking as you slightly remove one strap from your top “if you caught a private plane and flew back here.” You continue talking as you take the other strap off “I’d show you more.” You finish off your sentence and as you do you place your shirt back to normal.

Kageyama who was already getting into your little show, lets out a frustrated sigh “that’s fucked up baby.”

You’re laughing at his frustrated expression “maybe. But God what I’d give to have you in front of me. I know I’d blow your mind away.”

“You can still blow my mind away from here!” He quickly responds

“It’s not the same.” You laugh.

His frustrated face relaxes a bit as he watches you laugh. Smirking to himself he responds “keep laughing. You won’t be when I see you again.”

“I have 8 days to prepare.”

He laughs at your response , looking at the time he frowns a bit

“Well I have to go baby, it’s late and I have to train early tomorrow.”

You pout through your phone, your entire demeanor switching, his words saddening you a bit. “Okay.” You say, a bit more quietly

“I love you and I’ll see you soon.” He says as he smiles,

“Not soon enough.” You mumble out

“Very soon baby, I promise, now don’t be sad and let me see that pretty smile of yours before I go.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, he always knew what to say to bring your spirits up.

“I love you too babe. I can’t wait to see you.”

And with that you say your final goodbyes and hang up, missing him instantly as you do.

>>> fast forward to February 14th>>>>

You woke up the morning of Valentine’s Day, you were expecting to find a cute text form Tobio in the morning, considering the fact that his time zone was ahead of yours, but you didn’t find anything. A bit confused, you furrow your eyebrows at your empty notifications, you decide not to think anything of it and text him first. Wishing him a happy Valentine’s Day, saying you wish you were together. As you hit send you put your phone down to continue with your morning routine.

Now hours later, it’s is 6 pm and you had still not received a word from Tobio. You were beyond pissed, he’d never ignored you for an entire day before. And the fact that he was doing it today in particular pissed you off even more. You had no idea why he wasn’t answering your calls or messages, but at this point you didn’t want to care anymore.

Alone and upset you head over to your bedroom trying your best not to cry you flip through your Instagram, becoming even more sad as you see all the happy couples on your feed. You’re subtly wiping away your tears, when you start to receive a call on your phone. It’s your best friend, you try to regain your composure so you can answer

“Hello?”

“Happy Valentine’s y/n. I know Kageyama is out of town so I wanted to bring you something. Come downstairs!”

You smile at her words, beyond grateful to have a friend like her “thanks Jaz, but can you just leave it at the door?? I feel kinda shitty right now.”

“Aww no come on girl, i know this will help you feel a lot better.”

You consider it for a couple seconds before you respond “okay I’ll be right there.”

You get dressed in comfortable clothes and apply a bit of makeup to hide the fact that you were crying, before you head downstairs.

Making your way outside. Your heart stops at the sight in front of you.

Kageyama is standing there. Holding a giant bouquet of your favorite flowers and gifts surrounding him.

You’re frozen for a moment before you can fully comprehend what was going on, when you do you instantly run into your boyfriends arms, crying from happiness.

Kageyama gladly takes in your embrace. Squeezing you tightly, as he speaks

“Happy Valentine’s Day y/n.”

Still crying a bit you begin talking too “omg Tobio. I can’t believe you’re here.” You nuzzle your face further into his neck. You quickly pull away from him and lightly punch him on the arm

“Ow” he chuckles out

“You asshole. I was crying all day because you didn’t talk to me.”

He leans down to wipe your tears away. “Aw I’m sorry, I was on a plane almost all day, plus I wanted to surprise you.”

You head over to hug him again, this time leaning in to give him a long, passionate kiss.

Pulling away, he holds you once again as you both head into the apartment.

As soon as you make it in the house Kageyama smashes his lips onto yours once again, carrying you towards the couch. Sitting down he sits you on his lap as he continues kissing you. You’re breathless, kissing him as much as you could, you missed him very much

“Wait kags.”

“Hmm?” he lets out still kissing you in between

“What about your game?” You question

He stops kissing you briefly as he smiles “oh I lied. It was actually the 13th. So I had this planned out from the very beginning.”

You stare at him lovingly as you swoon, you couldn’t believe how incredibly lucky you were to have him. Your arms tighten around his neck as you bring him into a warm embrace

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too. And I missed you so much.” He responds

You knew you were incredibly grateful to call Kageyama your boyfriend, but today you learned that you were hopelessly, and utterly in love with that man, and you wouldn’t want anyone else but him. There was a telepathic bond that existed between you two, one that neither of you could explain, but both of you knew was there.

[owl-with-a-pen]

We didn’t get much insight on nias breakup with brainy, like how nia was feeling through the whole thing! It was pretty upsetting. So how about an almost rewrite of reality bytes where Yvette takes nia out to a party to loosen her up, she gets drunk, and brainy comes to the rescue? Like takes her home, stays with her when she gets sick and takes care of her kinda thing. Thanks!

- Okay the word count speaks for itself but this one really got away from me. But I had to throw in all the angst I possibly could. Thank you for the prompt! x

Working under the oppressive eye of Lex Luthor grew worse by the day.

Brainy had always been a master at multitasking, and so he had never assumed it would be exactly there that he would struggle the most.

And yet, here he was. Trying his hardest to focus on Lex’s latest tedious task to keep him in check. After all, Lex Luthor may have very well believed Brainy’s impassive charade, but that did not buy trust. Only time and a one hundred per cent success rate would accomplish that.

To achieve it, distractions had to be eradicated. He had already made his excuses time and time again for not attending one of Kara’s famed game nights, and despite Alex’s insistence, he had not given in to any other form of group activity, either – especially those involving Al’s Bar. He needed to maintain a clear head, to do as his doppelganger had instructed; to protect his friends and their future, he had to rid his mind of them. All of them. It was imperative to success.

And yet, the moment his phone buzzed with an incoming call, Brainy’s heart leapt into his throat.

It was Nia’s name that popped up on his screen. Nia’s face. So jovial, so care-free. In the photograph, her arm was wrapped around Brainy’s shoulders where she had pulled him in for a last-minute selfie. She’d kissed his cheek just seconds after it had been taken, insisting it’d be an awesome couple photo.

He had meant to change that. Why had he not…?

He swallowed hard, focusing instead on his computer screens, relaying information back and forth between them. It was without passion, meaningless data that could be shifted anywhere whilst maintaining the same result. But, it still served a purpose, keeping him from his intestinal inclination, that gut instinct to reach for his phone and answer without a moment’s hesitation.

When was the last time he had heard her voice?

He had been keeping his distance where he could, maintaining a professional formality with her whenever he caught her in the field as Dreamer. He knew it hurt her, every time it hurt her, but he could not avoid his duties in as much the same way she could not avoid hers.

They were in effect destined to bump into each other. The only way Brainy could lessen that hurt was by avoiding conversation as much as possible, throwing up every wall he could think of, even if he had to stumble over his words to do so.

When Nia’s face disappeared, Brainy released the breath he’d been holding, letting it dust across his screens.

Then, his phone buzzed twice more.

Voicemail.

Nia never left voicemails. Not since he had ended things with her so abruptly, walking out of her apartment, refusing to elaborate, to offer her any kind of closure.

It was a calculated hurt powerful enough for her to abstain from asking questions; a necessary evil, and one Brainy would never forgive himself for causing.

He shouldn’t be doing this, his mind warned, but his thoughts were racing, derailing from all twelve tracks at once.

His hand was already poised over his phone. Before he could think better of it, Brainy snatched it up, connecting to his most recent voice message. He pressed it to his ear, pursing his lips in anticipation.

“You suck, you know that?”

Brainy flinched, the phone nearly slipping right from his hand. Nia’s voice was harsh, anger tinged with upset, but it was her voice. It could have been filled with all the fury in the world and Brainy would have still listened just as eagerly, if only for the chance to hear her again.

As the voicemail continued to play, Brainy realised that Nia’s words were slightly obscured by the heavy beats of music playing in the background, not to mention the loud chatting and whooping of people he certainly did not recognise. Brainy frowned. She must have been at some kind of party. Although, none of the voices present sounded as though they were talking to her specifically.

A nightclub, perhaps?

Nia wasn’t usually one for clubbing. So, why would she-?

“And y’know what?” Nia’s voicemail continued out just as harshly, cutting off Brainy’s train of thought. “Yvette’s so right, I deserve better than some guy who’s gonna leave me hanging, who leaves with zero explanation, and I- oh crap, sorry-” There was a scuffle, one caused by Nia knocking into a fellow patron if her apology was anything to go by. The slur in her voice was very evident, which led Brainy to conclude that she had been drinking heavily that night, enough to pick up the courage to call him.

His stomach lurched when he heard another voice in the background.

“Girl, what are you doing?” It was Yvette. Of course Yvette would have been the mastermind behind this apparent night out, likely with the well-minded intent of assisting with Nia’s mood.

Yvette’s voice grew louder as she came closer. “What are you- wait, are you calling him? No, no, you get off the phone right now, that’s messy as hell!”

Brainy was inclined to agree. Nia, however, seemed to have other ideas.

“It’s fine,” she insisted. “I-”

Before Brainy could hear anything more, the message cut off.

Brainy squeezed his eyes shut, clenching and unclenching his jaw methodically.

He shouldn’t do it. He shouldn’t be giving into gut instinct, not now, not-not ever. Not with so much at stake. He was supposed to be monitoring Lex’s movements, doing everything he could to keep a step ahead of whatever he was planning. So far, he had failed at that. And, if he continued to lose sight of his objective, he would only slip further still.

But, if there was one thing he could count on now more than ever, it was the Big Brain. Perhaps it was not that his skill at multitasking had been limited as of late, but more-so that he was not utilising it to its fullest extent. He could easily keep a thought track open for any updates on Lex’s data entry, could even continue development on the bug he was planning to slip into Lex’s private servers. For the moment, they were obstructed by a firewall even he was having difficulty breaching. But, with time…

Brainy’s fingers curled together, winding tightly around his phone. He had the room to deviate from his plans for one night. Besides, it would take mere seconds to get a lock on Nia’s GPS…

He had been trying so hard to keep out of her private business these last few weeks. The little he did know were only of her recent exploits as Dreamer that had been plastered all over the news. But, even knowing what she’d accomplished in such a short time, how capable she had become as a hero, it could not stop the worry that clogged so suddenly inside his throat.

He just had to know where she was, he rationalised. He just had to know that she was safe.

The moment her co-ordinates flashed in his mind, Brainy’s chest caught, lips parting. She was close-by, an estimated three minutes by flight from his current location.

He shouldn’t be doing this.

Brainy’s eyes scanned empty air, but beyond that he saw everything. The security for the club was rudimentary at best, and far too easy to hack. Nia’s most recent location had pointed her somewhere near to the club doors, which was only confirmed when Brainy linked up to the cameras out front, pinpointing her almost immediately.

Yvette was with her, holding up her weight as Nia slumped precariously into her side, nearly tripping down the club’s steps in an effort to remain upright. If it hadn’t been for Yvette’s guiding hand, she likely would have.

Brainy gritted his teeth. Just how much had she had to drink? He had never known Nia to drink so excessively, especially with how rigorously she had been training as of late. This was new behaviour for her, but not unpredictable. Brainy was more than aware of the many coping mechanisms one might find themselves adopting in times of emotional distress.

He had caused this.

He could fix this…

But he couldn’t, couldn’t - no matter how much his heart insisted otherwise, he could not give in. Nia wanted nothing to do with him, that much was clear from her message. And… Yvette was with her. Yvette would get her home safely.

But Yvette had clearly been drinking, also. What if something were to occur between the club and their apartment? Nia was disorientated, vulnerable, and with alcohol marring her judgement, her reaction timing would never match that of a clear-minded foe.

Brainy stood from his desk all at once, nearly toppling his chair in his haste. Fortunately, he was in a private office. Another upgrade from Lex. He swallowed down the bitter taste in his mouth; at least he could use this particular gift to his advantage.

He needed to get to Nia undetected. Immediately.

Brainy’s calculations had been - as expected - totally correct. He reached the club in no less than three minutes, giving himself ample distance to land so that no drunk bystanders might notice his arrival. Not that their likelihood of remembering any of this come morning was very high, but it was best not to push those odds.

The moment he saw her, Brainy’s world stopped moving.

Nia and Yvette were sat together on the club’s steps. It appeared Yvette had not been successful getting Nia all the way down them. Now, she was stubbornly trying to encourage Nia to drink from a water bottle she’d had stashed in her bag. Nia only turned away from her with a grimace, pushing her face firmly into her hands. Her cheeks were rosy from alcohol consumption, her dark hair beginning to thicken and frizz from the humidity of the club. The dress she wore danced with row upon row of sequins, glinting in purple and pink tones beneath the streetlight.

She was so beautiful it nearly caused a physical ache inside of Brainy’s chest.

Never had he wanted to go to her so ardently, to scoop her into his arms, hold her close and never let go.

But, he couldn’t. He was bound by his decision and, what’s more, he was the very cause for this entire situation in the first place. Nia was only in this position because of what he had put her through, and he couldn’t take that back. So long as Leviathan was a threat, he could not give up this ruse, he could not tell her the truth.

Even if he did… the acidic tone in Nia’s voicemail told him all he needed to know. That he may have well lost her for good by doing this. And he could barely stand to think it.

Again, a distant part of his mind queried why he was even here? Was this not already traipsing on incredibly dangerous territory? If Lex found any reason to distrust him, this logical and distant image Brainy had been parading would’ve all been for naught, and his Earth would meet the same fate as his female doppelganger’s.

No, no. Regardless of his decisions, the side he had been forced to take, he was still himself. In which case, there was nothing wrong with helping those that required his assistance, even if they hadn’t exactly asked for it. In that way, he could at least be there for Nia. If she would even allow it at all.

He hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but when Yvette recognised him from halfway across the club grounds, the look she gave him was practically poisonous.

“You,” Yvette sneered, wrapping an arm protectively around Nia’s shoulders. Nia only groaned, digging her fingers against her face. Yvette’s eyes narrowed distrustfully. “Voicemail didn’t cut it, hm? You know you broke her heart, right?”

“I’m… aware,” Brainy said tightly, trying his hardest to maintain the same collected calm he’d been offering the rest of his friends. Any slip-ups now could be the end of this ruse once and for all.

Nia had yet to lift her head, and so Brainy took that as his opportunity to remove his phone from his pocket, very clearly displaying the Uber app on his screen, making his intentions clear. “I can help get her home.”

Yvette snorted derisively, tightening her hold around Nia. “Uh-uh, there is no way I’m leaving Nia alone with your cheating ass.”

Brainy’s face fell. Cheating? Was that what Nia had told her? Or… or had that been Yvette’s own assumption of events? “I didn’t cheat on her,” he said, a little defensively.

“Please,” Yvette scoffed. “No one’s feelings magically change overnight unless there’s another woman involved.” She gave him a snide once-over. “She can do better than you.”

Brainy’s stomach sank, his eyes flickering to Nia, capturing every inch of her. “I… I have no doubt.”

It took some back and forth, but eventually, Yvette agreed to his help on the condition she came back to the apartment with them. Brainy understood that she hadn’t wanted to cut her own night short, but Nia’s health came first. At least on that, they could both agree.

Regardless, it was a very awkward Uber journey back to the apartment.

Nia didn’t speak the whole car ride, and Brainy began to wonder if she was lucid enough to understand her surroundings at all. She didn’t look up from her hands, and more than once Brainy considered that she might be doing it purposely, far too aware of who she was currently sharing a car with.

Although, the steadily worsening pallor of her skin pointed towards another, far likelier, possibility.

Which was confirmed the second they got into the apartment’s elevator.

The juddering motions of the small space was all it took for Nia to break her silence, cupping a hand desperately over her mouth.

“I feel sick,” she murmured into her palm.

“Hold off,” Yvette said gently, rubbing Nia’s shoulders. “We’ll be home any second.”

Brainy wished it could be him to offer Nia comfort like that, but he’d practically backed himself into the furthest corner of the elevator, acting as nothing more than a passive shadow to the night’s unfolding events. He dug his hands into his pockets, clenching them tightly to keep from reaching out to her, watching with worried eyes as Nia grabbed suddenly for the elevator’s rail with her free hand, swallowing thickly.

The moment the doors opened, Nia stumbled out, nearly tripping in her haste to exit. Brainy maintained his distance while Yvette helped Nia down the hallway, waiting awkwardly with his arms folded as she fumbled with the keys to the door. He hovered hesitantly outside the doorway when Nia broke from Yvette, rushing into the bathroom, although he noticed that Yvette was wary to follow her in.

When he caught her eye, Yvette grimaced, shaking her head. “I- I can’t, I’m a sympathetic vomiter,” she explained weakly. “If she hurls, I hurl.”

Brainy nodded his understanding, reviewing the door’s entrance as though it might swallow him whole. After a long moment, he ducked his head, stepping inside. “I can stay with her, if you would like,” he offered, quirking a brow. “After all, you are in need of rest as well.”

Yvette pulled a face, staring at him suspiciously. “You really don’t quit, do you?”

Brainy only shrugged.

“I’m keeping my eye on you,” Yvette said, which at first Brainy didn’t understand as an invitation. That was, until, she stepped aside, waving her hand in the direction of the apartment’s bathroom.

Brainy didn’t waste any time. He barely managed a breathy thank you before he headed the way Nia had disappeared.

Nia was curled around the toilet when Brainy pushed the door open, her hands pressed firmly against the rim. She hadn't appeared to have thrown up yet, but she was pale and shivering, her jaw clenched tight with discomfort.

The moment he was close enough, Brainy dropped to his knees, reaching out a hand hesitantly towards her, gauging her reaction. When none came, Brainy carefully rested the flat of his palm across her back. She didn’t try to move away from his touch; instead, with a shaky sigh, she relaxed against him, eyes fluttering shut.

And so, Brainy continued, boldly enough to massage his fingers gently and precisely around her spine, quickly finding a pattern that she seemed to appreciate. He rubbed her back in large, repetitive circles, filling the silence with the quiet crunch of sequins as they rolled lethargically beneath his palm.

It wasn’t long before Nia’s shoulders tensed up. Her chest convulsed and she groaned out, throwing her head over the toilet just in time before she vomited into the bowl. As expected, the contents of her stomach appeared to mostly be liquid, which certainly explained the dangerous level of her intoxication. Brainy remained exactly where he was, holding her back steady with one hand whilst studiously bunching Nia’s hair behind her shoulders with the other, tugging away loose strands that had caught across her lips. No sooner had he done so, Nia gagged again, squeezing her eyes shut as round two commenced.

Brainy continued to rub her back, murmuring soft comforts at her side, slipping between both English and Coluan. Nia had certainly picked up some of his native language in the months they had been together, but not enough for her to realise in that moment the weight of what he was telling her. Or, rather, what he wished he could be telling her - in a language she might recognise.

When Nia was reduced to dry heaving over the bowl, Brainy realised that her mascara had begun to run, bleeding black streaks down her face. The strain of vomiting could certainly cause such a reaction, but something in his heart told him that this was more than that.

He wished he could brush those tears away as tenderly as he once had, that he could reassure her that everything would be okay.

But how could he when he knew the probability of their relationship rekindling once the dust had cleared? How could he when said relationship was already in shambles, pushing them apart even while they were sat so closely together on the bathroom tile?

“Here.”

Brainy blinked out of his thoughts, turning his head to find Yvette stood in the doorway, trying very hard to keep her eyes away from Nia’s current condition. She held a glass of water outstretched towards him.

Brainy took it gratefully, lowering his head into a sincere bow. “Thank you.”

“You’re still so weird,” Yvette said, although for just a moment, he thought he caught a fondness in her tone. Then, she cleared her throat. “This doesn’t mean I like you,” she said quickly, heading back out into the hall. “Remember, I am one room over. You try anything, and I’ll-”

Her words were cut off by the slam of her door, but Brainy understood well enough the threat she had posed. He nearly smiled. If anything, he was glad Nia had a friend and roommate as protective as Yvette. She had been there for Nia in a way that Brainy had not been able to for far too long, offering her a shoulder to cry on, and a party to draw her mind away from the pain, if only for an evening.

Perhaps it hadn’t worked as Yvette had wanted, but Brainy hoped that even for a little while, Nia might have experienced something other than heartache that night.

When there was nothing but bile left in Nia’s stomach, Brainy took her shoulder, offering the water glass out to her. “Nia,” he said gently. “You must try to drink this. It’ll help-”

Before he could finish, Nia shot to life, slapping away his hand so hard that the glass’s contents sloshed down Brainy’s arm, drenching his sleeve.

“No!” Nia cried out weakly. “No, get off me, you jerk!”

Brainy let go of her immediately, shuffling away from her forlornly. He watched instead as Nia folded her arms angrily across the toilet bowl, pressing her forehead against the rim.

For a while, only her harsh breathing echoed around the small space. Then, Nia stopped, arms clenching as she squeezed her hands into fists. “Why’re you even here?” she croaked.

“You… called.”

Nia snorted. “That’s never stopped you from ignoring me before.”

Brainy’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “You were in need of assistance,” he said instead, trying his hardest to keep his voice from crackling.

“What is this, Brainy?” Nia asked exhaustedly. She lifted her head, dark hair curtaining her face, but Brainy could see that her eyes were trained downwards, seeing nothing. “Why’re you doing this to me?”

“Nia—”

“No, no, you go radio silent on me for weeks. You don’t give me any explanation, you don’t talk to me, you act like I don’t exist. And you think you can just turn up now and- what? What do you want?”

Brainy’s eyes were beginning to burn. He blinked quickly, doubling down on the same toneless voice he’d perfected over the last few weeks. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Nia laughed, although it sounded more like a sob. She spat into the toilet, lips twisting sourly. “Well,” she muttered darkly. “I’m not. You broke my heart. And you can’t fix that.”

Brainy’s own heart felt as though it might shatter in his chest. He opened his mouth, only to close it again when he realised there was nothing he could say that might absolve him. He didn’t want to be absolved. Nia was right. No matter what he said, even if he folded and told her everything right that second, wouldn’t fix what he had already broken.

He didn’t try to touch her again. Instead, he simply knelt there, watching as she picked up the water he’d left out for her, drinking the half that hadn’t spilt over his sleeve.

When Nia didn’t appear to be in danger of vomiting again, Brainy walked her to the bedroom. He stayed a respectable distance from her the whole while, enough that he could steady her should she decide to fall. At the last few steps before her door, she did stumble slightly, and Brainy held his arm out to her on reflex. Begrudgingly, Nia took it, staggering the final distance down the hall.

Nia let go of him the moment her bed was in sight, practically falling against the mattress, uncaring of the uncomfortable and clearly not bedroom-appropriate attire she was still wearing. Instead, she curled up quickly beneath the comforter, hugging her knees close to her stomach.

Silently, Brainy set about placing a fresh glass of water on her nightstand, as well as retrieving a trash can from the bathroom, tucking it within easy reaching distance of the bed. When he was done, he stood there a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of Nia’s back, wondering briefly if she may have fallen asleep.

“You know the way out.”

Her voice was devoid of any care, and yet it was still sharp enough to cut a hole through his heart. She sounded so empty and drained, exhausted by the night’s events.

But, worse yet, she had been exhausted by him.

Brainy closed his eyes, a million and one apologies budding on his tongue, desperate to leave him in a fierce burst, to explain everything, to beg for her forgiveness in every language he knew.

But as always, logic won out. No matter how much he wished he could tell her, he couldn’t. Not unless he wanted to put his family’s lives in mortal danger.

And so, it was upon Nia’s instruction that he left her without another word.

It wasn’t until he was out the front door, halfway back towards the elevator, that Brainy’s chest hitched, his breathing jerking harshly outside of his control. He stumbled into the wall, baring his teeth as the first of his tears began to flow.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured to nothing. To no one. After all, he knew in his heart that those words would never be enough; no words would ever be enough.

The longer he kept this up, the more he knew with one hundred per cent certainty that Nia would never forgive him.

And that hurt more profoundly than any words she left on his voicemail ever could.

[alwaysfeelingsaintlike]

Driving Me Mad [G.W] - Part 1

Series Description: You and George come up with a plan to help each other out by pretending to date each other. But what happens when you actually start to catch feelings...

Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor fem!reader 

Word Count: 2.2k

Description: You reconnect with George during a friendly game of spin the bottle.

A/N: This concept was inspired by one of my favorite 90s teen movies, Drive Me Crazy (which everyone should watch btw). I wrote this a few years ago and recently re-worked. This is part 1 of 8! Enjoy :)

                                                         X

“1…2…3…4…” you heard Fred calling. You took off at a run to find your spot. You were playing hide and seek, like you always did at these reunions. The Burrow was the best venue for hide and seek because there were so many great hiding spots, both inside and out. Fred and George seemed to be the best at this game, but you had one secret spot where no one could ever find you. You ran down the stairs quickly, hoping you wouldn’t be heard or spotted. Your parents were in the sitting room with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, waiting for the roast to finish and you tip-toed to the one area where you shouldn’t have been, the kitchen. It was an unspoken rule that the kitchen was off limits when Mrs. Weasley was preparing dinner, but you were never one to follow rules. You heard the adults talking in the other room and knew you had a very limited window to get situated. You opened the cabinet under the sink and went to climb in when you realized there was already someone in there.

“Hey! This is my spot!” you whispered, still trying to keep your cover.

“Well too bad, I was here first,” he spat back. 

“READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!” Fred called. Your eyes went wide in panic and you shoved yourself into the cabinet.

“Slide…over…” you said as you dug your elbow into George’s side. You knocked over stacks of bowls and pans and you quickly shut the cabinet door hoping to muffle the noise.

“I can’t believe you took my spot,” you grumbled.

“Your spot? I don’t see your name on it,” he teased. You smacked him and he winced. “Now, that wasn’t very nice.”

“Shh…you’ll give our position away.” You heard footsteps coming across the tile floor and held your breath. 

You sat there for what seemed like hours, whispering insults back and forth and laughing about stupid things. The hardest part about sitting there was that dinner was starting to smell amazing. It was torturous. That was the downside to having a great hiding place; you were stuck there until you got found.

“Okay, I give up. You guys win. Just come out now,” you heard Fred calling.

“Should we?” you asked George.

“Nah. It’s more fun this way.”

By this point all of the kids were looking for you both, and maybe even the adults. It was hard to tell for sure, considering you were curled up in a cabinet, but you could hear lots of footsteps and your names being called repeatedly.

“Kids, come for dinner!” Mrs. Weasley called.

“What about now?” you asked George, thinking that the seekers would stop looking for you the minute their eyes caught sight of the meal. 

George shook his head no and you trusted he knew what he was doing. “Just wait for it…” he whispered.

As if on cue, both the cabinet doors suddenly flew open. You had been caught. You then realized, it was Mrs. Weasley who had caught you and she had yet to notice two children were in place of her kitchen supplies. She was turned and was calling for the older boys to come and set the table. 

Slowly, very slowly, she turned around and bent down to tend to the cabinet. George’s face broke into a warm smile, knowing what was coming next.

“AAAH!” she shrieked upon seeing your childish figures cramped into such a small space.  You and George erupted into laughter at her reaction as everyone else scurried in to see what had happened. Mrs. Weasley was leaning against the counter, clutching her heart before she essentially beat you with a dishtowel to get you to come out.

“George! Y/N! What on earth were you thinking? You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Weasley! We didn’t mean to. We were just playing hide and seek,” you spoke, innocently enough. Her mood completely changed and it was as if nothing was wrong.

“Well…alright. Go wash up for dinner,” she said. 

Fred approached the two of us, “That was brilliant. Couldn’t have done it better myself,” he said, giving you both high fives. 

Dinner was full of laughs and merriment as the two families conversed over a lovely meal. George sat across from you at the table and every now and then he would kick your shins and give you that evil grin of his. This was your relationship. You were essentially the second Weasley girl, and according to the twins you were more fun to torment because you could dish it back.

Dinner drew to a close, which meant you could continue playing again. The adults stayed and talked more over tea as you all made up imaginary games, pretending to be people you weren’t. Then, soon, your parents would call you and give you the twenty-minute warning, which always meant you were leaving in an hour. You would say your goodbyes like it was no big deal, but once you started heading home you grew infinitely sadder knowing you’d be playing alone until your next trip to the Burrow.

                                                              X

A lot of time had passed since the hide and seek days. Now, hide and seek was used when you were playing hard to get, which happened quite often now that you were a 5th year. You also didn’t see as much of the Weasleys as you used to. When you were younger, you would go over to the Burrow all the time. But now you only really saw them in passing at Hogwarts. You were still friendly, of course, but you had found yourself in a different friend group. 

Recently, you’d been spending a lot more time with the Ravenclaw’s largely because you were dating Roger Davies. You had started dating towards the end of your fourth year and things had been going great. You were particularly excited for the upcoming school year because they had announced the Triwizard Tournament.

The champions had just been announced and you were in  Room of Requirement, sipping a butterbeer and celebrating with a majority of the Hogwarts population.

“Here ye, here ye!” someone called out. Your attention shifted to the center of the room where the Weasley twins were making an announcement.

“As you all know, we are here for two reasons. One: to celebrate the success of our fellow Hogwartsians,” one of them spoke. The crowd cheered. Cedric’s friends clapped him on the back while Harry stood awkwardly in the corner with a handful of Gryffindors from his year. 

“And two is to have a bloody good time!” the other twin shouted. That statement was followed by even more applause. People clinked their butterbeer bottles together as the twins made a few more remarks to the group.

You mingled around the party for a bit, keeping your eye out for Roger who hadn’t seemed to arrive yet. After a few butterbeers, you stopped worrying so much about your boyfriend’s whereabouts. 

“Who wants to play spin the bottle?” you heard someone call. That certainly caught your attention. All the participants sat in a circle on the floor.

“What rules are we playing tonight?” Cho asked. 

Fred spoke next, “Spinner gets one spin. Whoever the bottle lands on can decide if they want one kiss in front of everyone or five minutes in the closet. You only get a re-spin if the bottle lands on yourself. And all wands in the middle of the circle. We don’t need any interference. Sound good?” Everyone nodded in agreement and the festivities ensued.

Since Cedric was the champion, everyone agreed to let him spin first. His bottle landed on Lavender Brown and she chose to enter the closet with Cedric. Cho looked pissed, as she had her eye on Cedric this year. The two emerged from the closet minutes later, Cedric looking sheepish and surprised and Lavender trying to hide the grin creeping up her face. 

You waited and waited for your turn, and you found yourself getting bored. You were about to leave the game and head to bed but then you heard your name.

“You’re up.” 

The bottle slid over to you and you decided you would leave after your turn was up. You held the glass bottle for a moment before placing it in the middle of the circle and giving it a good spin. The bottle was almost mesmerizing as it completed rotation after rotation before finally slowing down to land on someone. You slowly looked up to see who was at the receiving end of your spin and you internally cringed to see that familiar smile. 

“Alright Y/L/N, I will see you in the closet,” he said. Everyone ‘oohed’ like you were preteens as he stood up and made his way to the closet. You reluctantly followed, knowing this was your ticket out of here.

“Well if it isn’t my first girlfriend,” he smiled as you made your way through the door.

“You wish, George. We were six…it didn’t count.”

“That’s what you think.” You rolled your eyes at his comment.

“Just so you know, nothing is happening in here. I have a boyfriend.”

“Ah of course. Well how are things?”

“Things are going great between us. We’ve been dating almost-“

He cut you off, “I wasn’t asking about Roger. I was asking about you. We haven’t talked in a while.”

“We run in different circles, George. We aren’t kids anymore. We’re barely even friends.”

He clenched his heart, “Ouch. That hurts.”

“Well it’s true!”

“Just because we don’t hang out or talk doesn’t mean we’re not friends.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you mumbled. 

“I bet I know more about you than your so-called friends, Cho and Marietta. In fact, I think I know more about you than Roger.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “Is that so? Prove it.”

“Well, I know that your favorite color is purple, your best subject is Charms, and you hate the cold but you love Christmas.”

“That is not that impressive. Roger knows all of that.”

George took a step closer to you, “Does he know that you secretly love watching Muggle movies, you’re ticklish on your left knee and that there’s a little star shaped mole just behind your ear.” He gently tucked your hair behind your ear and ran his finger right over the hidden mole. You looked up into his eyes and felt an unusual feeling that you weren’t sure how to define. For a moment, you thought you saw him leaning in towards you. He was going to kiss you and for some odd reason, you were going to let him. Just as your lips were about to touch he turned away as there was a series of knocks on the door. 

“I think our time is up,” you spoke softly. You slid from under his gaze and opened the closet door. “They all bolted…” you stated. The room was full of discarded cups and empty bottles, but no familiar faces to be seen.

“Filch or someone must’ve come by,” he said, “The knock was a warning.” You shrugged and without talking you made your way out of the room. “Heading back to Gryffindor tower?” he asked you. You had briefly thought about going to Ravenclaw tower to check in on Roger, but you decided against it.

The journey was silent, for the most part. Neither of you felt the need to talk. Just as you were about to turn a corner, George grabbed your wrist and pulled you back. You turned back at him confused and he said, “Not that way, we’ll get caught. Filch is usually patrolling that corridor.” You gave him an unamused look, thinking he was just trying to make things difficult when he added, “Trust me.” 

You weren’t sure why, but you did trust him. You followed him down a dark hall that you’d never been down before. You hoped he knew where he was going. It was dark and you couldn’t see very well but you didn’t want to give away your position by using Lumos. Out of nowhere, George took your hand and helped guide you down the hallway. You didn’t really understand why he was being so nice to you. You had barely talked over the years, aside from the occasional family gathering. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden pop of light. You looked up and the two of you were face to face with Professor McGonagall. 

“Professor,” he spoke.

“Mr. Weasley…Ms. Y/L/N. Is there a reason you two are out of bed past curfew?” she asked you sternly.

“Yes, but it’s not a very good one,” you said. You were toast. If it had been Flitwick or Moody you could’ve talked your way out of it, but McGonagall was too strict. You only hoped your punishment wasn’t too severe.

“Ten points will be taken from Gryffindor. Each. And you will report for detention later this week.”

“Yes ma’am,” George spoke.

“Now back to bed, both of you!” You scurried past her as you realized how close you were to the common room.

“So much for not getting caught,” you muttered.

“Hey, lay off it. I was trying to help,” he snapped. “Sometimes you can be such a bitch,” he added under his breath.  You weren’t expecting that, but you admittedly deserved it.

You reached the common room and you went in and immediately went up to your room. You curled up in bed and tried to sleep as best I could.

[urijihoons-blog]

Bokuto: Clarity

/ Kōtarō Bokuto x reader /

genre: fluff babyyyy

wc: 3126

summary: Finally, the truth has been revealed. You can finally look at him with clarity. After a little domestic bliss, you devise a plan to take down the one who wronged you, and it’s time to set it in motion. 

warnings: dOmEsTiC bLiSs

a/n: Hey guys!!! I am SO sorry this took so long!!!!!!! As answered previously, I got wrapped up in all the holidays and then just recently started back up at college so I’ve been putting this off, and then I noticed 2 days ago that my draft had completely deleted somehow so i started it again haha karma I guess!! ✌🏻🥺

BUT HERE IT IS AHA

pt4

///

You were stunned. Bokuto was explaining everything to you in extreme detail, slowly going over the past few weeks. Of course, he’d get a little off topic at times, getting too in depth about practices or games, which made you smile on the inside, but as soon as he’d realize he would continue his story. He told you how Tamra had acted as if she just was interested in talking volleyball, how she manipulated him into being her friend, and then how she won the trust of the whole team. Bokuto never saw it coming. You wondered if he felt as stupid as you did right in this moment.

“When I saw you after I opened that door,” Bokuto eyes lit up slightly at the thought, a small smirk forming through his low laugh. “I felt as if I had finally come up for air. You looked so excited, your face was more beautiful than I remembered and your eyes,” he looked down at your intertwined hands, you turning his ring on his finger. “were so bright.” A darkness came over his features and his voice started to shake, your body tensed in response. You knew the next part all too well. “I should’ve never said she could come over, I should have never even been friends with her, Y/N.” Tears started to trail down the sides of his cheeks, making you tear up as well. “I’m so sorry,” his voice broke as he laid his head facedown on the bed next to your side, clutching onto your hand as if it had been his life line. “I’m so so sorry.”

“You can’t be sorry for being yourself.” You squeezed his left hand with one of your own, and put the other in his hair, softly trying to comfort him. “You thought she had no one, so you tried to be a good friend. You can not be at fault for trying to be kind.”

“That doesn’t matter, Y/N. I was not kind to who matters,” his shoulders shook slightly as he continued to cry into the duvet. “You. When you started to cry in the room, and I tried to hold you, you flinched under my touch. When you got in that elevator, there was no light in your eyes. Your beautiful face had shattered. I did that to you, Y/N.” He sobbed now. “I should’ve done right by you.” You squeezed his hand tighter, letting him know you’re still there. “I want to do right- I need to do right by you.”

“Bo,” you cooed. His head lifted up when he heard his pet name. Your hand grazed his cheek, your thumb swiping at the tears. One of his hands reached to cover yours as he leaned into this intimate touch. His reddened eyes fluttered shut taking it all in, and then opened to look at you. “You have done right by me. You have always done right by me. Even tonight, you tried your hardest to do right by me, and you succeeded in the end. I-“ your voice was caught in your throat, you choked down a small sob, “I’m the one who failed you.”

You started to cry now, really cry. Bokuto’s hands flew to your cheeks, trying to stop the stream of tears as he shook his head. He was about to say something when you stopped him, “I should have stayed earlier. I should have at least tried to hear you out, but instead I ran. I should have known better, I should have trusted you.” You laughed sadly, “I mean we’re getting married, right? I should’ve-“

“You still want to get married?” Bokuto’s small voice broke out. He was still holding your face, and his lips were inches from yours. His eyes were now wide with shock. Your cheeks flushed, and for some reason you suddenly felt shy.

“Well, I assumed since we have fixed this-“ was all you could get out before Bokuto brought your lips down to his, hard. This kiss was one that was filled with longing, passion, and love. After your initial surprise, you leaned into it. You haven’t kissed him in so long, not only because of the whole train wreck of a night, but because he hasn’t been home in weeks. His lips felt so soft as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into the bed to be beside you, closer to you. You had missed him so much. He pulled away, both of you panting at the air.

“I can’t believe this.” He started, putting his hands to his head. “All of this pain I’ve put you through and you still want to marry me? Are you serious?” He asked, searching for something in your eyes. Rejection, maybe? He still looked so surprised.

You smiled softly at him, “Of course.” You stated plainly. “You’re the only one for me, Bo.” You leaned up to meet your lips to his once more, a quick, chaste kiss. He was still leaning into your space with his eyes closed when you had already pulled back. They snapped open when he realized you weren’t still kissing him, his golden eyes electric, waiting for your touch.

“Let’s go back to our room, sweetheart,” he smirked getting out of the bed, and held a hand out for you to take. “It feels weird that I want to make out with you in Atsumu’s bed.”

That night, you cuddled in his hotel room. After Hurricane Tamra, you both deserved to end your 4th year anniversary with a little bit of light. He had asked you about the shop and your plans for this trip. With your head on his chest, and those beautiful golden eyes constantly watching your every move, you spoke adamantly about your thought process with this whole trip. He was so excited that you were finally going to be able to watch him play, it had been awhile since you could attend a game in person.

Throughout your time there that night, Bokuto kept holding you tighter and tighter. Occasionally, he would bring his hand up to your face, while you both laid in silence, and would trace your features with his fingers lightly. He would also randomly pepper you with kisses from your forehead, to your neck, to your shoulders to show you that you have his full attention and affection. You knew it was because even if you had completely forgave him, these past few hours had been and will continue to haunt him for a while. After staying up for the sole reason to be in each others arms, you both finally got to sleep around 3:30 in the morning, which was not ideal, but was still perfect considering you got to spend time with him.

//

Game day. It’s game day.

Bokuto’s eyes snapped open at the thought. While his sleepy eyes cleared, he realized something was tickling his nose, it was your hair. This made him smile.

He hasn’t been able to wake up to your sleeping face in so long. The sun shone softly through the curtains, and it hit your skin enough to make you look as if you glowed. You were tangled together under the sheets, legs wrapped around one another while both of your arms are hugging each other. The sight made him excited for the future, becuase everyday would be like this. Bokuto was careful enough not to move too much, in fear of waking you up. He checked his watch. It was only 10, and he didn’t have to be anywhere until 12, so he was safe on time.

He started to play with your hair, slowly moving his hands down to stroke your arms, and then began drawing shapes on your shoulders. He didn’t want to wake you up, but he did want to spend some time with you before he left for practice and warm ups. You made a small groan, and took your time to open your eyes. Before Bokuto knew it, you had snuggled in closer for warmth, grabbing his arms and pulling them around your body. You started drawing shapes on his arms now, and Bokuto couldn’t believe that you were still his.

Last night, he felt as if he were in a nightmare and now, it’s like he woke into a dream. “Hey angel,” Bokuto rasped out in his low morning voice. “What do you want to do for the next few hours? We can grab breakfast, or-“

“I think I would rather just lay here with you, if that’s okay,” You cut him off, speaking quietly, moving to where you could fully see his face. “I haven’t seen you in a while, and I’ve really missed you, and I don’t want to poke our bubble just yet.”

Your words squeezed his heart, you missed him. Enough to not want to go get breakfast. Bokuto smiled sheepishly, pulling you in closer. “That is more than okay,” he leans his head down to plant a long, sweet kiss to the top of your head, “it’s perfect.”

When 11:30 rolls around, Bokuto is disappointed that he has to leave your warm bed. He quickly runs around the room, grabbing clothes and shoes and different essentials for the rest of the day. Every once in a while, he’ll pass you and give you a quick peck on the lips. He does this when he’s nervous about something. And that something today was Tamra. Of course her team was the one they were playing in the finals.

“The stadium is only a block away, and we can get dinner together tonight, and-“

“Bo,” You cooed. He picks up his face, red with both anxiety and frustration. “I understand it’s your job to see her. I’m not worried about this,” you step out of bed towards him. You only have on one of his big t shirts, he takes notice. “Or us.” Now his face is red for different reasons. You wrap your arms around his neck while you stand on your tippy toes. His arms automatically hang loosely at your hips. “I have complete faith that you are going to go out on that court and win the finals. I also have complete faith that you are going to do the right thing, like you always do. You don’t have to talk to her, in fact don’t even look at her. Don’t give her the satisfaction of your attention. You deserve the satisfaction of a solid win.”

That look you gave him, with those beautiful eyes, it could kill and save. Bokuto leaned down to give you a quick peck that turned into a long, passionate kiss that left you both breathless. This was the encouragement he needed, you by his side. With him going into battle like this, no one could stop him. You untangled yourselves from the loving embrace, and he picked up his bags. “Y/N,” he looked you directly in the eyes. “I love you with everything that I am.”

“Then play with everything you’ve got. Win this for me.”

The words still sent sparks down his spine as he dropped off his belongings in the locker room. He was thinking of the intensity that your beautiful face held when he walked out on the court to meet his teammates. The only thing that could take him out of his thoughts were the voices of his teammates.

“Kuto!” “Did you make up with Y/N last night?” “Is she okay?”

The smile on Bokuto’s face answered every nagging question of the team. A collective sigh filled the stadium. Of course they were relieved to hear the news, this wedding was the only thing going on in some of these guys’ personal lives. “I’m so glad to hear that, Kuto!” Hinata’s voice rang out as he entered the court.

Noises came from the opposite side, and everyone knew who followed them. “Okay guys, you know the drill.” Atsumu’s voice was tight. Everyone’s faces immediately dropped into a scowl. The team looked more focused then ever. Bokuto knew this was a big game, but didn’t think everyone needed to be so on edge.

“Why are you guys looking so hostile?” Bokuto questioned lightly. Everyone looked to him as if he should know.

“Y/N called with a game plan. She’s pretty smart, y’know?” Atsumu smirked, which made Bokuto burn a little at the thought of him having any private thoughts about you. “Anyways, this is how she believes it will go down.”

Atsumu went into fine detail about the days events, how everyone was to act, and where to lead the storm. Bokuto’s mind was racing, thinking and imaging everything that was to come. “When did she have time to plot this?”

“Oh, you would be surprised how quickly women can plot revenge.”

//

The game was about to start.

Every once in a while, during the warm ups, Tamra would stare at Bokuto, trying to pry his attention from the sport, or would beckon him over to try to talk to her. Of course he never looked in her direction because 1) he didn’t really care to even be in the same room as her, and 2) this was part of the plan. He could tell she was getting annoyed by the lack of attention though, he could feel her angry gaze on him almost at all times. It also didn’t help that whenever he would make a good spike, she would say, “Nice kill!” just to get a reaction from him, but this was to be suspected.

After a while of this, the teams headed into their respected locker rooms to get into their headspace for the game. Bo texted you, ‘Hey, so far so good, she’s pissed. I miss you tho 🥺 xx’ to which you immediately replied, ‘You’re going to do great tonight babe, on and off the court! I’ll be right on the center line in the front cheering you on!! I love you💗 xx’.

Bo smiled with anticipation. This is your first game you’ve gotten to see in person in probably a year or so. Because of your business and your work ethic, it was hard to align your schedules. Not to say that he didn’t wish to see you at every single one of his games, but it never really bothered Bokuto too much that you couldn’t come because he understood what it was like to be passionate about something. It was one of his favorite things about you. He sat there in thought for a very long time so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice the time flying by.

“Alright guys, it’s time. Let’s go!” The coach’s voice rang out. All of the boys were pumped, full of adrenaline and focus.

It’s time.

//

You’re heart could not stop pounding. You stood in your spot wearing one of Bo’s old jerseys, black ripped jeans, and some white tennis shoes. You knew you looked good. Your hair and make up was done, and your ring was shining like a star under the stadium lights. You heard the screams of fangirls and knew what was to come next.

The teams started jogging out to their respected benches, and you were sitting on the same side of the court as your lover. As soon as you saw that silver and black hair, you knew. Bokuto’s smile as he was jogging alongside his team made your heart flutter, but what was even better was how his eyes lit up as soon as he saw you. His smile broadened and his cheeks tinged a slight blush, he was practically glowing.

After he sat his belongings down at the bench he ran up to you and gave you a quick peck on the lips. “Hey doll,” he smirked as you wrapped your arms around his neck and hung them on his broad shoulders, “is she watching?”

You looked past his head discreetly and there she was, arms crossed, hip popped out, and a bright red face. You completely forgot she was there, that’s how forgettable she was. You let out a low laugh that made his eyes shine with desire, “of course.” You gave him another chaste kiss, “Time to go, Bo. You got this!” His smile was so bright, you were left seeing stars as he jogged back over to the team. At the sudden realization that you were in the crowd, Hinata and Atsumu both smiled and waved at you, and you returned the nice gestures.

Throughout the entirety of the game, it went like this. Tamra focused on you while doing her manager duties, you focused solely on Bo, and he focused solely on the game. Every once in a while, when he made a kill or a nice block, he would look over at you to make sure you were watching him, which of course you were, it was hard not to, and he would tap his thumb to his ring finger. This is something he started doing right before he proposed, something that meant it was for you. This made your heart burst.

After the game ended, with Bo’s team victorious, his team huddled up and let out a few howls in excitement. In the midst of the chaos, so wrapped up in the emotion of it, Bokuto searched for you in the crowd. You caught his eyes and he started running for you, his strong arms picking up and spinning you around in a big hug. You couldn’t help but laugh at his excitement. He gave you a breathtaking kiss right on the court, as if there weren’t hundreds of people cheering around the two of you for the win. “Did you see me? Did you see everything?” He pressed his forehead to yours, looking into your eyes.

“Of course I did, Bo. You played your heart out, that was the best game I think I’ve seen you play to this date.” You said, still breathing a little heavy from the kiss.

“I did it for you.” Those words squeezed your heart. The intensity in his eyes let him know he wasn’t joking. “It was all for you.”

You held him tighter, nuzzling your face in his neck to hide the brim of tears. “I love you.”

He drew circles in the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. “I love you too.”

His team called for him, and he knew he had to go, but he just wanted to live in this moment forever. “Bo, it’s okay. You have me all to yourself for the next week.” You reminded him, letting go of him reluctantly.

He nodded, “Okay, see you soon.”, now the real game began.

///

Okay so I’ve decided... there has to be a part 5. I needed domestic Bokuto so bad because we haven’t truly had any happiness in this fic until just now!!!!! So I’m doing part 5!! And then that will be the end of it🤗🥰💗✨ I hope you all enjoyed!!

[deathvalleyusa]

day’s eye

Summary: In the eyes of a child named Daisy, Alfie Solomons is a thing of adventure books and mythical tales. As she grows he seems to morph to even more mythical proportions. That is, until Margate shows Daisy just how mortal and human Alfie is. ONE SHOT.

Characters: Alfie Solomons, Child OFC, OFC

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Language, S5 spoilers

A/N: Wrote this a while ago but only recently picked it up again. I had plans to write a fic about Nora (Daisy’s mom) and Alfie but this ended up happening instead lol. x-posted from AO3.

When one grows up without a father, people assume a terrible fate befell him. The War. An accident. Perhaps he had found himself in trouble with one of the many gangs that ran the streets of every city on British soil. His absence could be explained away.

When one grows up without a mother, death is often called upon as the excuse as well. Childbirth. Influenza. Beatings no one saved her from.

But in certain cases, the father is simply gone and the mother still lives and breathes. Daisy was one such case.

Her mother, a lovely woman named Nora, had dreams. Visions of a house, a garden, and a job to keep her steady. Daisy was a part of the vision, but not a part of the journey thus far. So at her grandparents cottage she stayed. Six years old, knowing her mum was somewhere else, trying her hardest.

The day Nora came for Daisy was one of excitement. Tears. Good-byes from her Papa and Gran, hugs that melted into her skin. A buzzing ecstatic feeling as they boarded the train, heading to a place called London.

"It's all new there for us, Daisy," Nora had said. Pretty in her makeup and burgundy cloche hat. "A life for us, eh? Me and my girl?"

Daisy was not expecting to meet a man that week.

At six, she'd met her fair share of men from her grandparents' village. Her mum had never brought around anyone other than her uncle Harry. So this man was something new entirely.

Daisy had thought he maybe had been a bear before he was a man. Towering and scruffily bearded, he was an odd one.

"This is little Daisy, then?" He had asked. Voice low, accent unlike the Liverpool one she had lived with all her life. He spoke with a curiosity and a kindness, deep blue eyes twinkling.

"That's her," Nora answered, beaming. "Daisy, this is my lovely friend Alfie."

He offered a hand. Daisy stared, then gave a glance to her mum. A supportive nod, and her tiny hand met his.

It was not unlike her grandfather's, or Uncle Harry's. Worn and slightly rough on the pads, work showed it's time through calluses and small light scars. It was warm though, gentle as he shook hers before enveloping it in another large hand. Daisy couldn't help but admire his rings and the small crown tattooed into his skin.

Like a man from the pictures, she thought to herself, giving a pleased smile. Like a pirate. Or a king.

One thing Daisy learned, as she spent more time with her mother and Alfie, was how much he spoke and how rapt her mother's attention was to his words. He spun stories, rambled about the folk about town. Posed hypotheticals at Nora who would answer after a long pause. Alfie would always include Daisy, posing the same questions or asking about life in a quiet village.

Years passed. Daisy, in her infinite child wisdom, came to understand some of the nature of Alfie besides his sweetness. That he was just as she had suspected, a pirate and a king. He terrified others, kept the men in the bakery in reverence of him.

She came to understand her mother as well. A woman with muted glamor, someone with quiet dreams that slowly seemed to materialize. She was not the princesses or damsels in the films or books Daisy consumed. No, she was something of a beautiful warrior.

Daisy thought of herself as an adventurer. No one feared a child of her age, and she had no one who needed her protection quite yet. Instead, she was a wily spirit, content with exploration during the day and a cozy home with her mother, and quite often Alfie, at night.

It came as no surprise at the age of nine when Alfie sat her down and explained he had asked her mother to marry him. Truly, it felt like a long put off event, and Daisy had just wanted it over and done with.

Alfie's laugh filled the sitting room when she told him.

"It's not always that simple, Daisy Bell," he said. "But I'm pleased, your mum expected you to take the news hard. Not sure why, but you are full of surprises, yeah?"

And so, on one afternoon that had gifted pockets of sun, Daisy watched as Alfie made her mother his pirate queen. Daisy, in turn, became a pirate as well. And with her new place as the daughter of a pirate and a king came new lodgings.

Not a ship, but a house with many rooms. A place for her toys and baubles, and a new wardrobe to hang the pretty things her mother liked to dress her in. Daisy quite liked to sneak into Alfie's study, staring at the little collections that lined shelves. On the occasions she snuck in while he sat at his desk, he'd call her over with a wave of his big hand. A sweet would appear, followed by a kiss to the head.

"Don't tell your mum," he'd whisper in gruff tones, "or she'll 'ave both of our heads for spoiling your dinner."

It was those moments she liked best, when the two of them would hold a small secret. Daisy knew Alfie and her mother had their own secrets, whispered under their breaths as if Daisy would pay it no mind. Talk of bread, of a man named Shelby. Nothing that ever reached her in her fortress.

And in that fortress protected by men led by Alfie, who as Daisy neared eleven, seemed more pirate than king, she thrived. Played with the other children, took pockets of Yiddish they taught her home to practice with her mother. Spent hours feeding treats to Cyril behind her parents’ backs. Tormented Alfie's men with silly games and questions they usually had no answer to. Ollie was her favorite. He had taught her to play cribbage in the moments where his time wasn't completely occupied with Alfie's commands.

There were long stretches where Alfie did not return home, only giving a phone call to calm Nora's nerves. Her mother would get whispered conversations; Daisy was given sweet words and a gentle good night or morning. Daisy contented herself with this, until one day Alfie did not return.

************

"He's gone to Margate," Nora explained, rubbing at her tired eyes. They seemed to grow more tired with each passing year. "I haven't heard from him yet, Daisy. Perhaps tomorrow we'll get a ring."

The call did not come. Daisy thought of terrible fates that befell kings and pirates. How easily it could happen to a man whose business kept him in hushed conversations. How her pa, dear Alfie, could be struck down in crossfire with the polished guns he kept locked in his study.

When a letter came, and with it a terrible wail from the beautiful mouth of her mother, Daisy knew she was right. Wished it not to be so; that there had been a terrible mistake and the news written was wrong. But sneaking a look at the letter when her mother had finally let it out of her grasp, Daisy found her worst thoughts had not been bad enough.

Alfie's wonderful handwriting lay before her. Asking forgiveness of Nora, then of her. A betrayal to the Shelby man detailed Alfie's demise. A desire to end a painful, cancerous existence that he had never spoke of to Daisy.

Another letter detailed his condition. Alive, but for how long would be up to him. Where he could be found in the winding streets of Margate.

With no noise, she returned the letter to it's envelope. Daisy took care to walk quietly, letting herself hang at the entry of her mother's room. For the first time in many years, she crawled beside her in the vast bed, letting a desperate hug melt into her skin.

On the eve of her twelfth birthday, the house with many rooms lay barren. Everything had been packed and sent to Margate, which Nora explained would become their new home. Daisy had seen her mother hold back tears as they locked the doors for a final time. Her house and her garden that had materialized out of her dreams since Daisy was very small was no more.

Camden Town had too much risk lying to the north to bring Alfie back even in secret. He was no longer a king, but a ghost of one. They were to follow the ghost, live in a haunted home by the sea.

In that haunted home, Daisy helped place Alfie's collections and her baubles on shelves. She ignored the moans from the guest room, which had become a makeshift hospital ward. Instead she practiced her piano and read on the balcony to avoid the noise. Wished that Cyril, wherever he had gone off to, was by her side to help her ward off the ghost that lived here.

Alfie haunted her, night and day. He haunted her mother more, once he became more coherent and spoke his rambling nonsense to her. More than once she had heard Nora's voice raised behind the oak door, and no reply from Alfie. Her mother was not an angry woman, but Margate in those early months had sparked like a flint and filled Nora’s glamorous face with a rage-fueled fire.

As time passed, Daisy returned to her schooling. New friends were found, and so was a sense of normal. Her mother’s anger had become smoldering coals, and she started to leave the house. Sometimes for pleasure, other times for business still left from Camden Town. Daisy wondered often if Alfie, who remained behind the closed door, envied their comings and goings. She wondered more if he missed her, months separating the moment she had seen him in a gauze mask till now.

***********

On an unremarkable Sunday afternoon, her mother had gone out for some air. Daisy had been left to her own devices, plunking out a song on the piano in the sitting room. A voice, one she hadn't heard in more than a gruff whisper in weeks, sang out:

"Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do!”  

He was awake. Calling to her, it seemed, with a silly song he'd sing to tease since she was small.

"I'm 'alf crazy, all the love for you!”

Daisy rose from the piano bench, wood upon wood scraping quietly before feet plodded to the guest room she avoided. Now, though, the call from within was irresistible.

The door groaned silent as she peeked in, black curls slipping around her shoulders. There in bed lay the man she called father. A man in a pitiful state, but lucid.

"Daisy Bell, sweetie." he managed to crack a smile. "I'll cover up this nasty face of mine if you like, yeah, I just need to see that cherub one of yours."

She stepped in, trod closer.

"It's all right," Daisy remitted. "Will it always look like that?"

Alfie took consideration. "It won't always be as red, yeah, but it'll still look like a gnarled fucking tree. Maybe it'll smooth one day, but it's stuck, love."

"Then don't cover it," she said quietly. "If it's forever, I need to get used to it."

"Wise words from the mouth of babes."

"I'm nearly thirteen." A slight bristle shook through her voice, reminding herself of her mother. "I'm no baby."

"Is that right?" Alfie shut his eyes, heaving a grumbly sigh. A few beats passed, and he opened his good eye. Deep blue, like the ocean at night. Daisy sometimes sat on the balcony of their townhome and watched the waves roll in and out. Alfie's eye held no waves, just stillness.

"Well, if you're such a grown woman now, with wisdom and maturity beyond all our years, right, you'll fetch your dad a thimble of whatever Mum's got in that fancy bar cart she had to have, yeah? A secret between us grown ones, so I can partake of the earthly pleasures again."

Daisy's face hardened. "Mum says you can't."

"A biscuit then. With a strong cuppa." Noting her doubtful looks, he gestured to his face. "The tea to soften the biscuit so this old man can chew softly."

Daisy gave him a doubtful look, but obliged. Wondered how many times he'd asked for small tokens from the nurse or her mother and was promptly shut down. She returned, biscuits and tea in hand.

"You have my undying gratitude, Daisy Bell," he said.

He seemed quite happy, but Daisy couldn't tell if the biscuits or her presence was more the cause. As he dipped a corner of the biscuit into his tea, she thought how silly it was for a ghost to enjoy afternoon tea. She couldn't help an amused smile.

"What's that you're giggling about?" Alfie asked. His own mouth drew into a devilish grin. "You do something funny to these biscuits, ey?"

"No," Daisy replied, smiling wider. "It's a silly thought is all."

"I haven't heard silly thoughts in some time, just a nurse droning on and on about health and tablets. Indulge me."

For the first time in many months, Daisy felt heard again. Hands grabbed the wooden chair next to the wardrobe, scooting close to Alfie. She even let her forearms rest on the side of his bed, close enough to feel warmth not usually becoming of a ghost.

"Well you see," she started, "when we met when I was very little, I saw your rings and tattoo and thought of the men in the books my Gran would read to me. All while we lived in London, I thought of you as a pirate king."

"Is that so?" he chuckled, taking a sip. "Reckon you were a pirate princess then, weren't you?"

"Something like that." Daisy grinned before looking away at the wall. "After Mum got the letter and we couldn't bring you home… Well, I felt like you were a ghost. Like I've been living with a ghost this whole time in Margate."

Alfie didn't respond. Daisy had known he wouldn't; the wound on the soul was still as raw as the scar on his eye.

"But just now, seeing you eat,” she continued, “I found it quite funny to see a ghost eat a biscuit and enjoy a cuppa. All ghosts should be that funny, I think."

"Do you?" Alfie heaved a great sigh, then chuckled. "Better to be a ghost with a sense of humor and an appetite for sweets than a man who's lost both, yeah?”

Daisy nodded. The more she let what he had said rattle about in her mind, the more she came to understand the thankful truth of it. Though she mourned her pirate king, Cyril, and the house with many rooms, Margate and its ghost with his biscuit and tea had their own comfort.

She once again was a child who had a father with a terrible fate that had befallen him. A dozen excuses could be made for his absence but Daisy knew this time, at least, that in secret he still existed. The little secrets they shared had grown to one of great magnitude, like ones of novels and myths.

“I’ve missed you.”

Alfie, who had finished one of his biscuits, eyed her up with that twinkle she loved so dearly in the still dark blue iris. The cup clinked against the saucer as he set it on his lap covered by a blanket. Daisy felt the familiar roughness of his hand as it grasped hers.

“So have I, Daisy.” He gave her hand a squeeze, the feeling less ghostly than she had imagined. “Someday, I promise you, I’ll be out of this terrible fuckin’ bed and you and I can do whatever pleases your sweet heart.”

“That could be a very long time,” Daisy answered. “Is it okay for me to come back in? Will Mum be upset?”

Alfie took a pause.

“I don’t think so,” he decided. “And if she does get upset, it won’t last. The rotation of faces will do me good, yeah? That nurse sometimes makes me feel more ill by her presence alone, she’s got a particularly sour smell to match her face. The sooner I’m out of this room, the better I’ll be, I think. The sea air’ll do me some good, don’t you think?”

Daisy nodded again, vigorously. If Alfie thought the sea and the wisping salt against his face would help him be less a ghost and more a man, she would believe it too.

“We can go walking together,” Daisy suggested. “In the afternoons when I come home from school. And all day on weekends. Mum said she’d buy me a swimming costume for the summer, maybe we could swim—”

Alfie interrupted with his distinctive laugh, a near giggle unexpected from such a large man. The first time Daisy had heard it she had been taken aback, only to laugh along. Hearing it now was like a balm slathered on a skinned knee.

“We’ll start with a short walk, sweetie, then think about swimming in the next distant summer when these limbs can carry this old man easier. If I try to swim now, right, I might be swept away into the sea and some fantastical creature may happen upon me and drag me to its home in the depths. You believe in mermaids, love?”

“No.” Daisy sat back in the chair. “Not anymore.”

“Pity,” Alfie answered. “I saw one once at a carnival; pretty thing with a tail blowing bubbles under the water. If anything were to drag me out to sea, I’d choose her.”

“Stay on land, then!”

Alfie looked at her, quieted by her outburst. Daisy hadn’t meant for the words to leave her mouth so loudly. But all the talk of leaving once more sent her deep into a place of fear.

“I don’t want you to leave again,” Daisy tried once more in a softer voice. “I don’t want you to even try.”

“Then I won’t,” Alfie replied simply. “I’ll ignore all those siren calls I hear from the beach and stay right here, on your orders. You’re the boss, then.”

“Mum said she’s the boss now.” She shifted in her seat, wondered how cold the tea sitting on Alfie’s lap had gone. “Her and Ollie, she says.”

“Right then, you’ll just have to be my boss, won’t you?” Alfie shut his eyes. Daisy inspected his face, riddled with red scars and the patches of scaly rashes around his scalp he had explained as an affliction called psoriasis when she questioned it. He opened his good eye, giving her a quick smile. “Keep me in line and give me my orders to follow. First order is no following mermaids, got that love, what else should I heed from you?”

Daisy had never had that kind of power before, giving orders to an adult. The men at the bakery heeded her silly requests before, yes, but Alfie had always been the one to bark orders. As a child on the cusp of thirteen, it was an immense responsibility. She racked her brain, lips pursed as she ignored Alfie’s amused face, before settling on one.

“Get well fast,” Daisy finally said. “And don’t make Mum cross again, I’ll know if you do.”

“A tall order, that last one, but I’ll do my best,” Alfie grunted, tapping her hand before saluting her. “Yes ma’am.”

[yoditorian]

lacuna- part 7

din/reader

cooking is my love language so i made it rebel’s too (as ever, thank you to my love my life @brothersdrxke for being my shara) 💛 there’s rly only two more parts after this huh

series masterlist // main masterlist

word count: 2.7k

warnings: i don’t think there’s any swears in this one but just to be on the safe side, rebel has PTSD although it’s more suggested than actually experienced there’s a couple of moments that are shaky, softness and domesticity or just sadness?, sadness, the usual type of smut, 18+ no babies thanks

“No.”

At least Colonel Cintass has the decency to look surprised, he blanches when you show no sign of joking and sits up a little straighter. 

“If it’s a question of pay or location, both are negotiable. There’s academies all over the Inner and Mid rim, you’ll have your pick of the lot and a promotion if you accept.” He’s clutching at all the straws he has at his disposal, but you don’t budge. He huffs when you say nothing and asks, albeit agitatedly, what your plans are instead.

“Maybe I’ll go private. Pays well, I can do what I want-”

“There’s no glory in the private sector.” Cintass interrupts you, and your eyebrows furrow further.

“And there is here? If you joined up for glory, Colonel, I don’t think you should be calling the shots.” You’re right and you both know it. You’re all too familiar with the friends who’ve retired to find something quieter, and with the officers who spent their Rebellion days discussing facts and figures with politicians. People who’d never been on the front lines in the thick of it, never even seen a firefight, now in charge of fresh faced cadets and veterans with too many demons to feel like they belong anywhere else. You won’t stay here, not for any longer than it takes to pack your things.

You pulled out of Green Squadron the day after Shara told you she was retiring, the last of the original crew, you hadn’t wanted to fly any more missions without her. At least the Colonel heard you out and didn’t argue. He’d let you stay on as a temporary mechanic, while you figured out what it was you wanted to do. Although, now it’s clear he fought to keep you so he could get things in place to offer you a teaching job. 

It’s a good position, in all honesty. Miles better pay than you’ll get for the same job anywhere else, the choice to relocate to any of the shiny New Republic Navy training centres across the galaxy. But you can’t look a bunch of teenagers in the eye and tell them that this is everything they hope for. Not when the war chewed you up and spit you out the way it did. The scars on your back ache at the thought of it. 

Shara finds you in the hangar, loading up a couple of bags into your A-Wing’s pitiful storage compartment. All your belongings, your whole life, packed up and ready to go wherever you decide to take them.

“I don’t think you’re gonna be able to live in there.” 

“Ah, I’ll get a couple of hanging plants, maybe put up some curtains,” You smile at her from the top of the ladder, “Could be cosy.”

You know why she’s here. Not to talk you into accepting the teaching job, she knows you better than that. The idea was one she’d had right after she and Kes had found the old farm on Yavin IV, in need of a little tlc and a lot of patience, it was the perfect spot for them to raise their boy. And the little house further down the track, right at the edge of their land, was the perfect spot for you.

“I’m not saying you have to stay there forever,” She starts when you open your mouth to decline again, “I’m saying that when you need some solid ground under your feet, you don’t have to go looking for it.”

“Shara-”

“We’re family. You will always have a home with us.” It’s final. Non-negotiable. And something about the look in her eye makes you want to cry just a little bit. You think about the collection of scribbles tucked carefully away in one of your bags, the more recent ones at least are a little easier to distinguish as people. Four multi-coloured potatoes with legs. As far as little Poe is concerned, he agrees with his mother. 

You hop down the ladder and pull Shara tightly to you, maybe tighter than you have before. Because you’ve never really had a home, not a place you ever felt was worthy of such a title. But here she is, offering one to you like it’s nothing. 

“So, where are you off to now?” She asks when you finally have the strength to let her go. Both of your eyes are a little watery, but neither of you mentions it.

“Well, I turned down Cintass so it's up in the air. I’ve got some old contacts, so as long as they’ve forgiven me I can get a little income before I have to make any concrete decisions.” You don’t tell her exactly who the contacts are. Something about the way she raises her eyebrow makes you wonder if she’s already guessed where you’re going.  

It feels strange, guiding your A-Wing out of the hangar for the last time. You hope it's the last time. At least you had enough put by to get Green Four decommissioned and released to you, it might have been a little more difficult than you’d initially thought if you had to leave the ship behind. She’s old and you’ve put her through hell, but she’s yet to let you down.

You’re not overly surprised that your comm signal goes unanswered. You weren’t exactly the most gracious guest on your last visit. But you don’t get shot up on your approach, so maybe your old friends are feeling a little more amicable nowadays.

“Impressive.” Ran says when you hop out of the cockpit, helmet under one arm and a sheepish smile on your face.

“She used to be.” You know he’s already calculating how much he can get for it, or whether he wants to strip it for parts. Your heart aches at the thought of it but there’s not a lot you can do. If letting go of your starfighter is what gets you back on the team, then it’s what’ll have to happen. Even if it hurts.

Ran gestures at a couple of new crewmates, a Devaronian and a human, and you selfishly hope you won’t have to work too closely with them. There’s an insignia on the shoulder of the human’s jacket, one you don’t want to examine too closely for fear you’re right. He’s about to offer you your old room when the shooting starts.

The men are taking turns at a set of old side panels, blaster bolts melting the old steel on contact, and you know that. You flinch before you can stop yourself. Ran watches you suspiciously, but he says nothing. Before the war, you would never have even batted an eyelid at a little target practice. You probably would have been in the thick of it, laughing and betting and not watching your friends die over and over in your mind.

“You stink of soldier.” Xi’an sneers, although she means it more as an observation than an accusation. You don’t disagree, only shrug, and your hand hovers warily over your holster as you watch the shooting competition. Just in case.

“Where’s Qin?” You ask once your heartbeat returns to normal. Anger flashes across Xi’an’s face as Ran explains he’d outsourced a job a few years ago, and Qin hadn’t made it back. It’s unexpected, the odd way you find yourself a little disappointed. Even though he’d been cold with you on your last visit, even though you’d bickered and been at each other’s throats more than once. Qin had been a friend once, a lifetime ago. You suppose that’s exactly the problem.

“Are you still terrible at throwing?” Xi’an asks, and the awkward tension finally melts away. Her wicked smile returns and you find yourself mirroring it.

“I’m a little better.” You say. Although you’re still certain she’ll wipe the floor with you, it’s nice to see at least somebody around here missed you. It’s about as close to a confession as you’ll ever get from Xi’an. You’d be an idiot not to take the olive branch she’s so selflessly holding out in front of you. Maybe you won’t be so alone on the station after all.

Din’s wondering about you, some part of him always is, as he looks at the new pucks in his hands. A couple of humans, a mythrol, and a chiss. None of them should cause him too much trouble, but none of their last known locations are exactly close. He settles on one of the humans, last seen in the Yavin system, and tells himself it’s because he can stock up on supplies for some of the more long haul flights the new assignments will take him on. Definitely not because he could stand to be around people who might remind you of him, even just a little. Definitely not because he misses you.

Din watches you from across the market, chatting animatedly with a dark haired woman he’s half-certain he’s met before. The way she leans so casually, so naturally, against your shoulder as she laughs makes his ribcage ache. He wants that with you, always has. He wants to be able to take you to places like these. To hold you close in front of throngs of people and meet your old friends. He shouldn’t even be here.

The Armourer’s words still echo in his ears. He is responsible for the covert, their hardest working hunter. He cannot, should not, waste thought on times past. 

He shouldn’t be here.

But it’s too late.

Your eyes zero in on him, abandoning the conversation, and your friend follows your gaze. Din takes that as an invitation, slowly making his way towards the two of you in the shadow of a baker’s stall. The crowds part, as they always do, and for the first time he finds himself wishing they wouldn’t. You might have a life here, for all he knows. It’s been long enough. You deserve one, really. To have a home. To feel loved all the time, to not have to wonder. And then he’s there, in front of you, just staring. What are either of you even supposed to say?

A small boy peers around your hip, looking up at him in wonder. Too old to be yours, if he remembers correctly, but for a moment his heart seizes. You rest your hand in the kid’s curls, absentmindedly ruffling them. You’ve always fiddled when you’re nervous. 

“We should probably get home, but I’ll see you tomorrow?” The woman clears her throat, snapping the sudden tension into shards. Din’s careful not to cut himself on the edges. 

You nod enthusiastically, every language you know still lodged uncomfortably in your throat, and wrap an arm around her shoulders for a brief goodbye hug. She calls the boy after her as she leaves, their matching black curls bouncing when she heaves him up onto her shoulders.

“Shara,” You say, watching the two disappear into the waning crowd, “She teaches some of the older kids piloting basics. I help out when I’m here, mechanics mostly.”

“You find somewhere to settle?”

You shake your head. Give him some vague answer about drifting where the wind takes you. He doesn’t need to know you went crawling back to the only thing you knew before the war. It’s quiet for a moment, and even though you’re standing in the middle of the market, it’s as though you’re the only two people on the whole street. Din’s floundering for something to say, something to keep you here for just another minute, until you break the silence and save him. Just like you always do.

“When was the last time you ate something that wasn’t a ration pack?” 

Even with the way he treated you last time, you’re still showing him the kindness you always have. He’s still not sure he deserves it. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Come on.” You take his silence as an answer, and start towards an alleyway between two buildings. Din follows you without hesitation, and the path opens up to a small parking lot half-full of different speeder models. You lead him to an older one, yellow paint faded and scratched, and drop your bag in the backseat. He falters a little when you climb in and gesture to the seat beside you.

“Unless you wanted to sit in the back.” Your smirk is warm, familiar. It hurts to look at. So he hops in and settles on the front bench because he’s not sure he can bear to watch you look at him like that much longer.

The little home down the dusty farm track is not somewhere he ever expected you to call your own. You’ve always seemed like you should be on a background of stars, a hyperspace lane, not somewhere this domestic. At least that way he wouldn’t be consumed, so suddenly, with a very real idea of staying. 

You just look so comfortable, bathed in the low light of the afternoon sun through the windows, pulling vegetables out of a fridge covered head to toe in kid’s drawings. The little boy from the market, presumably. And it makes his ribcage ache to know that this too, is something that’ll always be missing from his every day. He won’t get to sit at your kitchen table and watch you fuss over a pot of stew, or have you slide up behind him and kiss his shoulder as he follows your favourite recipe. 

It’s the best stew he’s ever had. Easily. The sun has disappeared behind Yavin, bathing the whole moon in an odd red glow as he eats. The helmet seems to glare at him from the middle of your kitchen table. You’d ducked into the bedroom to eat before he could even suggest that you take the kitchen. Another sacrifice you’ve made for him. What does that make the number now?

His gloves stay on the table while he washes the dishes, at his insistence. Although you’d put up a little bit of a fight. Din doesn’t bother to pick them up when he passes the table, when he appears in your bedroom doorway and you look up from your datapad like it’s the most natural thing in the galaxy. 

You’ve pulled the curtains, shut the world out, and the room is plunged into darkness when you flick the lightswitch by the head of your bed. 

You’re expecting the warmth of his skin on yours when he finally finds his way to you in unfamiliar space. He always sheds his armour so silently. You don’t expect him to take your hands in his, and raise them to the sides of his helmet.

The breath catches in your throat, you know he can hear it. His fingers tremble slightly over yours but he doesn’t waver. He settles them both solidly on either side of his helmet, and guides you for a moment. Your hands follow the rest of the way when he drops his to your waist, you set it carefully on the bedside table and turn back to him. He’s not stupid. He knows you can’t actually see him. But it feels like every barrier between you is finally, melted away. And Din can lay you back on the bed as himself. 

It’s strange to have him in a space that’s become yours. Knowing that in the dark his helmet is sitting on a bedside table next to a picture frame of you and Green Squadron. That he probably saw every drawing Poe’s ever scribbled for you stuck to your fridge. But you force yourself to forget that. You shove it right down until there’s no room in your head for anything but the way he’s clinging to you. Until he is all you know.

“Tell me you don’t love me.” You’re almost asleep when the traitorous words slip out. 

Oh, you think you’re clever. You think you’re leaving him no choice but to confess. You think this is where things finally, finally, start to go your way. They don’t.

“I don’t love you.”

No differently than if he was recounting the weather forecast. And it hurts. But you don’t have it in you to run, to cry, to be angry with him at all. Instead, you fall back down to press your cheek against the warmth of his bare chest, defeated. He holds you there until you’re sleeping.

-

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@brothersdrxke @rebloogggs @keeper0fthestars @remmysbounty @sirianisrock @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean

[let-me-write-shit]

So, I had this idea for a harry imagine where they met during the 1D days and they took a trip for the summer alone and Harry wrote 'Summer love' for the reader. Then the reader got famous with a solo album and they never saw each other after that summer besides award shows and stuff. But then the reader puts out a song 'Summer by Kesha' which is a response to Summer love and Harry approaches the reader after the Brits (where she preformed) and wants to reconnect. You can end it yourself ❤️.

A/N: First Imagine after having covid. I’ve been trying to write this for weeks and my head was stuffy half the time, so I hope this turned out okay. Sorry it took so long. <3

Word Count: 4,378

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

To add yourself to my Taglist, click HERE

CLICK HERE TO READ OTHER COMPLETED STORIES

Friendly reminder to please like and/or reblog. It helps more than you think :)

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

Summer Love

It was always there; that weird underlying tension that fizzled in the air after releasing a particularly personal song. It was easy to write about, and even to perform in front of thousands of strangers, but when it came to interviews it seemed more difficult. Doubts started to settle in and you’d start to kick yourself about releasing something so obvious.

Y/N should be used to the feeling by now. She’s been doing this, professionally, for nearly six years now, and although she quickly and easily built thick skin, always pulling herself out of potentially awkward questions without getting too in-depth about personal meanings of songs and whom they might be about, always handling it with the right amount of grit and edge, to be performing at an award show in front of hundreds of fellow musicians whom she’s looked up to for years was a terrifying prospect. Especially considering he would be watching from the audience as she performed a song written about him.

She didn’t intend for this to happen. She didn’t even want to perform that song. But when she tried to fight against it, they almost pulled her out of performing and it wasn’t worth being cut. It was her first year performing at the Brits and her third year attending. She was still fairly new on the scene despite the amount of time she had been recording, and this was her biggest year in her career so far since the release of her new single. It was mostly due to the rumors behind the song, though the rumors did hold some truth.

She wrote it in response to a song He released about her years ago, but she’d been thinking of the right words to say and the perfect song to write for so long that she was sure people had forgotten by now. Back then, Y/N was too afraid to sing in front of people. But her stage fright didn’t affect her ability to make new friends. She was a wild child at heart and could make friends anywhere she went. She just happened to meet all the right friends in all the right places and it worked out in her favor. It’s how she met him in the first place. Y/N was lucky, and she knew it.

It was about ten years ago, now, when One Direction was dominating the scene. They had just finished their first tour and were on a short break for the summer when some of the boys attended a little party of a mutual friend of Y/N’s. She remembered the first time she saw him. His curly hair unruly and his dimples dreamy. It was at that party that she and Harry exchanged numbers. That was the start of it all.

They had spent nearly every day that summer together. Their differences in behavior would have a huge impact on each other and would set a tone in their own personalities for years to come. Y/N’s wild spirit and carefree energy was something Harry tried to implement in his life as often as he could. It was because of Y/N that he took more risks and started living increasingly by his own rules where he could. And Harry showed her peace. His calm and acceptance taught her how to take a step back and relax. They were yin and yang.

That summer was one they’d never forget and would find themselves randomly thinking about for years after, Getting high, drunk, hanging with friends, kissing until their lips hurt, sex whenever they could get an ounce of privacy, laughing until they cried. Two stupid teenagers having the time of their lives.

The thing about spending so much intimate time with someone for nearly two months was that you’d start to actually fall for them. Harry was the first to say the words ‘I love you’. Their friends would joke and make fun of them for thinking it would be anything more than a summer fling. How could it? They were having too much fun together. All of Harry’s friends loved Y/N, and Harry was the first person outside of her immediate family to hear her sing and encourage her to pursue music. Neither of them wanted it to end. But as August turned to September they both knew. They were young and naive to think it could last.

Y/N remembered the last time they saw each other. She found herself often thinking about it when she was sad and alone. They were at a private beach and the water was too rough to swim in so they stayed on the sand and talked. Harry was about to leave for London the next day and Y/N would be starting back at school soon. They whined about how they didn’t want summer to end. Y/N started getting emotional and Harry began to cry, too. They kissed and cuddled, crying to each other. They told each other that they’d try to keep in touch, but they both knew this was goodbye.

Pictures of them together leaked of that day and rumors began to spread like wildfire. It got even crazier when their next album came out and they released a song called ‘Summer Love’. Fans immediately linked it to the leaked pictures of her and Harry at the beach and her social media blew up with people in her DMs asking for details and stories that she never entertained.

She got angry. How could he write a song about her but not keep in contact? She started pouring herself into her music. It was barely two years later that one of her friends introduced her to a producer and she began to make music. No one expected her career to gain momentum so quickly. Her, least of all. She had no clue what it took to be famous and the first year was the hardest. Especially the interviews.

It was difficult, at first, figuring out how to navigate her ‘girl next door’ image when she couldn’t seem to break free from the narrative of being one of Harry Styles's ex-girlfriends. It would be brought up in nearly every interview and it got tiring. That’s when Y/N made the decision to stop caring about her ‘image’ and to be true to herself. She started shutting down questions related to her personal relationships and showed more of her goofy and real side. Eventually, it became less about Harry and more about how people connected with her as a person. Y/N was refreshing to see amongst all the same talent that’s been on the scene for a while.

There were times where Y/N and Harry would attend the same events and cross paths. He definitely remembered her and they’d share a quick nod or wave in passing, but they’d always be whistles in different directions, unable to speak. Until one event, in particular, last year.

Nothing crazy happened. It was just a fundraiser dinner and a lot of celebrities were in attendance. There were theatrical performances and a few bands playing while they ate, along with intermittent speeches and auctions. Photographers and videographers circled the hundreds in attendance, getting some behind the scene shots, but for the most part, everyone just mingled.

Y/N brought her manager and boyfriend at the time, and she sat at a table with James Corden, his wife, and manager, as well as a few other lesser-known celebs that were more into the business aspect of things. Everyone was talking. She found out that James’s wife was a big fan of hers and they were all laughing at something Y/N said, making promises to be on his show again soon, when a figure loomed behind them, tapping James on the shoulder but getting everyone’s attention, turning to see Harry.

“Oh, Harry! Hello mate! How are you doing?” James asked, attempting to hug him from his seat.

“Alright, man, how are you?” Harry asked, grinning coyly and awkwardly, waving at the rest of the table, “Hello!” and then he looked at Y/N, eyes glistening and nodding, “Hi.”

“Hey,” she grinned back nicely, tight-lipped, as her boyfriend’s arms snaked around her waist, pulling her just a little closer to him.

Her boyfriend, well-known for having a famous dad, had no clue of the history between Y/N and Harry but was a fairly jealous guy. He didn’t trust anyone around Y/N and it was something she resented in their relationship.

Harry turned his attention back to James after eyeing the couple, “I was just checking to see if you’d be performing tonight, too?” Harry joked, “Maybe a little number from Into The Woods?” he smirked, earning a laugh from the table and roars from James.

“No, no. They can’t afford me,” James played along.

“It’s a charity, James,” Harry shot back, “Or maybe they were worried people would walk out.”

“Excuse you! That musical had eleven nominations and three awards, thank you very much!” James laughed, pointing out the empty seat across from him and Y/N, “Would you like to join us?”

Harry agreed, taking the seat, and he stayed there for the rest of the night. He talked with everyone at the table, watched the speeches, and listened to bands play. Eventually, he got enough courage to start conversing more with Y/N, shocked to find that, although she’s grown in the last several years and had a pretty shitty boyfriend, she was still relatively the same carefree, wild spirit he met at that party.

They talked about the release of his first solo album and his time on his first solo tour. They talked about how she was working on a new album herself and the recent interview she had with James that seemed to be a contender for most-viewed. Harry had seen it, as well. He was enjoying being in her company again but could do without her boyfriend that seemed to butt-in at every chance he could. And from the looks of it, Y/N was annoyed about it, as well.

By the end of the night, Harry was kicking himself for not getting her number. As he lay alone in bed, those memories of that summer began flooding back as it did every few months since, and speaking with her today struck him. He felt nostalgic, missing their sandy kisses and midnight strolls. How they used to stay up all night talking on the phone just to see each other again when the sun rose. He contemplated reaching out via Instagram or Twitter but ultimately decided that she had long since gotten over him and that there was no point considering she had a boyfriend.

Except that wasn’t true. The whole car journey back to her hotel, Y/N sat in silence recalling every moment of the night and longing for that old connection for Harry back. The second she and her boyfriend got back to her room, she grabbed her notebook, ignoring her boyfriend’s beckons to join him in bed, and went to work. It was the fastest song she had ever written, taking a total of two hours. And she broke things off with her boyfriend not two weeks later. The news broke in less than twenty-four hours and it was the top story for weeks.

She almost didn’t include the song in her album, but at the last minute, she decided to add it. She figured enough time had passed where people wouldn’t know who it was about. She was wrong. Big time.

Her impending performance at the Brits was all anyone could talk about, and now that the day was here, Y/N’s nerves were reeling. The thought of singing this song and knowing Harry was here watching was enough to make her want to throw up. Every time the camera panned to Harry during the awards with his face plastered on a large screen off to the side, Y/N was certain she’d pass out. Luckily they were on separate ends of the stage and she couldn’t really see him from where she sat, so she just avoided the screen. Her normal ‘don’t care’ attitude was gone.

Soon, she was taken backstage to get wired and ready for her performance. She bounced up and down in her heels trying to summon some energy and shake the nerves, messing with the dangling strands of hair that framed her face and wiping her sweaty palms on her sleek, satin red dress with one off-the-shoulder draping sleeve and a long side-slit.

She was led out to a pitch dark stage and was positioned in the center, hands gripping tightly on her mic as a presenter on another stage finished a short speech and introduced the next act. Y/N looked down at her feet, listening, waiting for her queue, afraid to look up amongst the crowd of very talented, very famous peers.

“The incredible Y/F/N Y/L/N, with her new single, SUMMER!”

The lights shone brightly on Y/N and she began to sing, followed by the sounds of piano.

“I haven’t seen you since the summer

But you feel just like I remember…..”

Her heart pounded as she walked towards the edge of the stage, finally getting the courage to look up and into their faces, everyone smiling, bobbing their heads, and most even singing along. She scanned the audience, her mind racing, terrified and shocked that she had even found the courage to go through with singing this song here. And then she saw him. He sat towards the left of the stage at a circular table, close to the front, looking up at her, listening intently, with a lopsided smile, and their eyes locked.

That’s when something weird happened. The anxiety she felt just seconds before had washed away. For weeks, this had been her worst nightmare; having to sing this song to his face. She had given herself countless pep talks and dozens of plans to avoid eye contact with anyone in the audience while she sang just in case she ended up looking at Harry. But now that it’s happened, a sense of relief has washed over her. There were so many things she wanted to say to him over the past few years, but for some reason, singing this song at him seemed like enough for the time being. It summed it all up.

He could feel eyes on him, not just from Y/N, but from his table and those around him, as well. Everyone knew of the rumors about this song. Everyone assumed it was about him. Honestly, he figured it was about him, too. Some of the lyrics seemed to point to that summer. But assuming he meant enough to her, especially enough to write a song after all this time, seemed extremely arrogant of him, so he avoided vocalizing his thoughts on the topic and always pushed it aside when it was brought to his attention.

When he heard that she would be performing the song at the Brits, a part of him was scared. He didn’t know how he should react. Should he play it cool? Should he sing along? Should he ignore her performance? But when he saw her on the stage in front of him, he couldn’t take his eyes away. A smile formed on his face and all he could feel was pride. He was proud that he got to know her before all of the fame and got to see the talent before she blew up. He was proud that she worked so hard to get to where she was.

And then they locked eyes.

He was speechless. It wasn’t a particularly heart-wrenching song in its own right, but he could feel the meaning behind the lyrics deep in his chest. Harry could see the tension fading from Y/N’s eyes, something that would barely be noticed unless you were looking for it. And he laughed as she bounced and skipped around the stage. She kicked her heels off which earned an outrageous amount of screams and claps and he laughed as she spun around the stage, barefoot. There she was; that beautiful, carefree girl he’d known when they were just teenagers. And as the song ended and she began to slow down, they caught eyes once more and they smiled before the lights began to dim and everyone in the audience stood, clapping. Harry among them.

“Wow. That was incredible,” his sister, Gemma, awed beside him.

They shared a look; one of both knowing and apprehension. He never told Gemma about Y/N. Sure, she knew of the rumors and saw the pictures, but they never went into detail about their love lives with each other. She didn’t want to push anything out of her brother, but she was a fan of Y/N’s and didn’t want to make her brother feel uncomfortable if she was supporting an artist whom he had any sort of resentment about. But by the look of his smile and nod of agreeance, she knew that it was no trouble.

He found himself often peaking over the heads of the crowd in an attempt to steal a glance at her. And whenever he stood to clap, or collect an award, no matter how hard he tried to conceal his curiosity, he would always end up locking eyes. When she won the first award of her career, he clapped louder and longer than anyone else, and he knew that he was giving himself away. Everyone who had come with him had realized that he was increasingly becoming more interested in her as the night progressed.

When the award show was finally over, he attempted to shuffle amongst the crowd, hoping to catch her before she left, but that proved difficult as he kept getting stopped by other friends and celebrities wanting to congratulate him on his winnings and aiming to have a conversation with him. By the time he had reached her table, she had already gone.

The afterparty was brimming with people, with both celebrities who had gone to the awards, and some who hadn’t. The music was so loud in areas that you could hardly hear others speak. Servers were weaving in and out of people with trays of food and drinks while people talked, danced, and consorted. He was always surprised by the mix of people he saw at afterparties and the friendships he had never expected.

He was in the middle of a conversation with his sister, Alexa Chung, and a few others, when a reflection of glistening light just beyond their group caught his eye, and he looked past his friends to see Y/N standing towards the other end of the room laughing with James Corden, just like she had been the last time he saw her. He had made up his mind in an instant and politely excused himself, making his way over.

“Hello,” he dragged, cautiously edging up towards the two.

They both looked up and he noticed the surprise in Y/N’s eyes before James exclaimed, “Harry! How’s it going, mate?”

“I’m alright, James. And you?” He asked, and before James could respond he turned towards Y/N and muttered, “Hey.”

“Jesus Christ, Harold, you’re not very subtle, are you?” he joked.

It was only a joke, but both Y/N and Harry began to blush. James, too, knew of the rumors and even pressed his friend, off the record, about his brief encounter with Y/N. He knew that there were some reserved emotions between the two old lovers, but by the look of their reaction, it seemed to be a bit greater than he had anticipated and he knew he might have just inadvertently created a bit of tension between the two.

“Well, it was nice to see you both, but I’ve got to go look for my wife before she leaves me for Shawn Mendes,” James lied, giving both of them a friendly hug and kiss on the cheek, “Have a good night.”

They watched as James snuck off and stood there in a moment of silence as the room around them only got louder. Y/N smirked, waiting for Harry to say something. Years, she had pictured this moment. Years she had imagined having a conversation as more than just a passing node or group discussion. Still, if he didn’t get a move on, someone could interrupt them and it’d be just another fleeting moment in their years worth of run-ins.

“You look lovely,” he finally noted, motioning towards her dress.

Y/N snorted, raising an eyebrow, “Come on, Harry, what’d you really want to say?”

Harry grinned nervously, shaking his head, she could see right through him, “Could never get anything past you, could I?”

“Never,” she smiled, crossing her arms.

He looked at her a moment, scanning her eyes before his face turned more serious, “...I missed you.”

“Oh? Did you?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, teasingly jutting his head forward matter-of-factly, “I did.”

“I guess I missed you, too. If you couldn’t tell by the song,” she added, giggling.

“Oh, was that about me?” he asked sarcastically.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Nah, couldn’t be. Some other bloke, some other summer.”

Harry laughed, astounded. So much time had passed and Y/N was seldom not on his mind. Sure, he had seen her in passing at the many award shows and alongside him on the internet, but he always wondered what time had done to her. He, himself, had learned and evolved with time and with knowledge. He hadn’t considered himself a ‘changed’ man, like so many that had gained money and an ounce of power, but rather he considered himself just grown. He wondered if she would be the same and often worried that the lifestyle would have sucked her dry. He sees it time and time again, lively people turning into shells of their past while trying to keep up with the scene.

But seeing her here, now, he knew that not to be true. She seemed every bit herself, just….grown. More confident, smarter, but just as playful and beautiful as ever. The nerves he was feeling before had gone, replaced with the silliness that he remembered always feeling when he was around her.

“So, we’ve established that I missed you and you missed me. What should we do about that?” he asked, rather flirtatiously.

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side and as if it was the simplest answer said, “Well, I suppose that means you should ask me out to dinner.”

Harry smiled wider, “So no boyfriend, then?”

She shook her head, a playful smirk forming on her face, “Not unless you’re asking.”

His mouth fell open slightly. Her forwardness was always something he fawned over, and before he could speak, a dark-haired girl slunk up to the two of them and they turned to see Gemma. Y/N had never met Gemma before and only knew of her from the stories Harry told her when they were younger. Of course, she’s seen pictures of his older sister, but seeing them side-by-side she could see the similarities between the two siblings.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt…” Gemma started.

Y/N shook her head, “No, you’re not. It’s Gemma, right? I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

Harry watched as his sister attempted to stop ogling and accepted Y/N’s offer for a hug and polite kiss on either cheek. He knew Gemma must be internally freaking out as she admitted, “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a big fan.”

“Thank you. You look gorgeous, by the way. I can tell who got the good genes,” Y/N smiled, poking fun at Harry.

He feigned hurt and elongated, “Heeeeyyyyy.”

“Hush, now. The girls are talking,” Y/N winked.

The three spent most of the night together, conversing with dozens of other celebrities who approached them, but they hadn’t strayed from each other all night. Their conversation seemed endless and never ran out of things to say. They even started getting a little childish and would sneak off and explore the hotel in which the party was held. Harry was happy to see that his sister and Y/N had quickly become friends, even if it was at the expense of his ego. But as the night continued and the three fought to hide their exhaustion, it had gotten too late and Y/N’s manager had finally found them.

“Come on, Y/N, we should get going,” the blonde tugged at Y/N’s arm.

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, alright.”

They all stood up and gave each other hugs goodbye, “It was nice to see you again,” Y/N whispered into Harry’s ear, lingering in his embrace just a second longer before pulling away, smiling, and following her manager towards the exit.

Harry watched after her, sad to see her walking away again. Why was sleep even a thing? He could spend hours more talking to her about utter nonsense, filling in the gaps of all of their missed time together. He felt a nudge to the left of him from Gemma and he turned to see her urging eyes. He knew what she meant. And he didn’t need another nudge. In seconds, he bolted up and jogged ahead, catching up with them. Y/N must have heard his footsteps, because she turned, amused to see Harry yielding, out of breath.

“Forget something?” she joked, crossing her arms with a smile.

He grinned, nodding, “Your number.”

She smiled wider, holding her hand out for his phone and when he passed it to her, she quickly inputted her number and saved it, handing it back. “Please pass my number along to your sister, too.”

“Are you just using me to get to Gemma?” Harry joked.

“Of course I am,” Y/N laughed. There was a moment of silence before Y/N leaned in, kissing him softly on the cheek before stepping back towards her manager, “Don’t lose my number this time, yeah?”

Harry shook his head, lips twitching, “Never. I won’t make that mistake again.”

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

Taglist:

@odetostep @mylittleangel9403 @thurhomish @fallingfordolans

[lavendernhoney]

Bad Ideas

Loosely based on Bad Ideas by Tessa Violet because I was listening to it and was like, huh this kinda sounds like it could be about Chat Noir and Marinette. And then I thought about Chat Blanc and uhm. I couldn’t sleep until I wrote this.

“Ok, but do you and Chat Noir really not know each other’s identities?” Alya asks.

Marinette knew the question was going to come up eventually, but it still made her shift uncomfortably and avoid her friend’s eyes, “No, it’s to dangerous. So is telling you but, not as much as telling him would be.”

“Girl, you know I’m here for you no matter what, and I’m glad you told me, but you two are partners. Wouldn’t the risk of Hawkmoth finding out be worth having his support?”

Marinette looks out the window and for a moment she sees a flash of a different Paris. Everything washed out and pale, buildings half submerged in water, bodies floating through the streets. She blinks again and the street outside her window is bustling and alive again, people cheerfully going about their day, unworried about possible danger, trusting their heroes to keep them safe.

“No,” she answers. Alya must have seen something in her face, because she doesn’t press farther. For now at least. Instead they spend the evening cuddling and Marinette tells the easier stories, the ones that make them laugh.

***

The akuma fight had been a difficult one, lasting more than half the day. It wasn’t exactly the hardest or most frightening akuma, but it was the longest lasting to date. Chat fought bravely as he always did, looking to her to lead but giving his full support in every word and move he made.

After the battle, in the final minutes before their transformation wore off, she hugged him tightly and thanked him for being such a good partner. He smiled, more with his eyes than with his mouth, and told her there’s no one he’d rather go through hell with.

It made her heart ache. When they parted all she could think about was what his eyes would look like without the transformation and mask.

She’s still warm from Chat’s words the night before when she meets Alya near the Eiffel Tower so they can walk to the movies together.

Alya is already waiting, phone in hand. As soon as Marinette is in range said phone is shoved in her face, “You’re really still insisting there’s nothing romantic going on here?” Marinette furrows her brows and takes in the short video. Of course someone got the hug on camera. She watches herself slump in exhaustion after sending up the cure. Then Chat Noir cracks a joke and gives her a grin. She doesn’t laugh but instead smiles softly and pulls him into a hug before whispering in his ear. At least that couldn’t be made out on video.

Marinette purses her lips and looks away, “It was just a hug Alya.”

“C’mon girl, fangirling aside, I’ve only seen you look at one other person like that. And you can talk to this one. And he’s into you. What’s got you hesitating?”

Marinette continues to avoid Alya’s eyes, and then wishes she hadn’t. The scene in front of the Eiffel Tower flashes from a peaceful one, babies being pushed in strollers, couples holding hands or walking dogs, to one from her nightmares. Herself as Ladybug, and Hawkmoth, turning to dust and submerged underwater.

She swallows thickly, “It’s not going to happen Alya.”

***

She probably should’ve left it alone, but when she saw Chat Noir hanging out near her balcony she couldn’t help but call out to him.

He looked so downcast at first she was worried she was missing patrol again. Then she remembered it was definitely the next day. He had greeted her with a cheerful smile, a little bow, and his customary greeting from the few times he’d interacted with her as Marinette, “Princess.”

She’s never heard him give anyone else such endearing nicknames. Well, Princess could be mocking, but not how he said it. She tries not to think about these things too hard.

“What’s got you looking so glum Chat?” She asks him gently.

He looks a little surprised, but covers it with a smile. She’s noticed that more and more recently, how much he doesn’t smile when someone isn’t looking, and how quickly he can cover up a reaction he doesn’t want someone to see.

“It’s just been a long day, I was just needing to get out and do a little Cat stretch.”

She gives a little laugh, “C‘mon Chat, I’m a good confidant.”

His over dramatic facial expression softens and he gives her a little smile, “That I believe,” he leans against the balcony and studies her potted flowers.”

After a moment Marinette tries prodding gently, “Is it about Ladybug?”

He sighs and runs a hand through his already wild hair before answering, “I guess I have been pretty worried about her. She’s been really stressed recently, and it feels like we’re not as close as we used to be. At first I thought it was just about... some increased responsibilities she has, but I think it started before that. I just-“ he cuts himself off and looks directly at her for a moment before clearing his throat and looking away again, “Sorry, I uhm, I shouldn’t really be telling you all this. You don’t need all that.”

“It’s ok Chat, really.”

He bites his lip, “I guess I just miss her, you know?”

Marinette feels like her chest is trying to crack open, and she wants to let it. She wants to tell him, wants to pour everything out so that there’s no secrets between them, wants to gather him in her arms, kiss his cheeks, and soothe all his fears. She wants to tell him how much she misses him too. The words almost leave the tip of her tongue.

She looks at him and for a moment the black and bright green of his costume changes to stark white and she’s looking into empty blue eyes.

She wants to tell him everything. If only she didn’t know where such bad ideas lead.

She can’t meet his eyes as she says it, “I’m sure she’s just stressed Chat. Ladybug is lucky to have such a wonderful partner, she wouldn’t keep anything from you she didn’t have too,” at least that much is true.

After a few silent moments Chat says, “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. Thanks Marinette, you really are a good confidant.”

Marinette gives him a small smile and tells him stray cats are always welcome on her balcony.

He grins and leaves with a deep bow. She makes it down to her bed before crying into her pillow. She’s so tired of waiting until Hawkmoth is defeated.

***

She tried not to. Really she did. But after the conversation on her balcony she transforms and messages him to meet her. Not at the Eiffel Tower. She asked to stop meeting there a few months ago. Thankfully he didn’t question it.

He’s waiting already on a rooftop a few blocks from the bakery. He takes in the look on her face, which is probably revealing exactly how upset she is because she has no poker face. “Is everything ok?” He asks, clearly concerned.

A lump rises in her throat a she shakes her head. He take a cautious step closer, like he wants to comfort her but doesn’t know if it’s the right move.

She steps into his space and takes his hand, slotting their hands together. He’s surprised by the move but doesn’t pull away, just looks at her with drawn eyebrows, “My Lady?” he inquires softly.

It’s a bad idea. It’s a bad idea, but he fills all her thoughts and her dreams, she’s loosing sleep thinking about his eyes. It’s a bad idea, and she knows where it leads, but she pulls him close anyway and for just a moment, she’s okay with damning the world.

He lets her pull him into her space. His eyes are confused until they’re close enough that her intent is clear and she pauses, looking into his eyes, “My Lady?” He questions again, somewhere between inquiry and reverence.

Marinette closes her eyes and whispers, “I want so much more with you. I miss you every day I don’t get to see you, and even then I do. I’m scared because, this is all we can have. Meeting on roof tops and little moments after battles. It could never be enough, but I’m so tired of waiting.”

Her hand is resting on his chest, she can feel the steady rise and fall, “It probably is a bad idea,” he whispers back.

She almost laughs, “It definitely is,” she tells him, then she presses her lips to his anyway.

It feels dangerous, and short, and leaves her only wanting more. When they pull away and look into each others eyes, she sees everything she feels reflected back in his own eyes. Her heart aches, and she vows they’ll always be like that. Mask or not, his eyes will be full of life and love, because that’s Chat Noir. Until she can ensure her nightmares will never become reality again, this will have to be enough. This one kiss. Tomorrow will be hell, and the day after that, and every day until Paris is free of Akuma, but his eyes will never be empty. Chat will never become the dull, hollow version of himself Hawkmoth would turn him into.

She sees in his eyes when he figures it out- this isn’t happening again. He steps away with a sigh of acceptance.

She tightens her grip on his hand before he can pull it away, “After Hawkmoth is defeated Chaton. I promise. I’ll tell you everything.”

He considers her for several long moments before giving her a tight smile and kisses her forehead, “Solid motivation tactic My Lady.”

She laughs, a bit hysterical, and they smile at each other sadly before he vaults away. The ache in her chest is back in an instant, but at least now it is soothed slightly by the memory of his lips pressed to hers.

She wishes it was a strong enough memory to keep more persistent ones at bay, but she looks out over the city and wonders why her secrets could destroy it.